Easy-Does-it Sick Day #2

I'm still sick, but I am incrementally better than yesterday—YAY!

I was able to stand up in the bathroom after my shower and brush and braid my hair.  Yesterday, I had to lie down as soon as I got out of the shower.  So that's an improvement.

I still feel incredibly tired.  I feel as if a gallon of coffee and a box of dark chocolate truffles might help.  But they would only make me feel worse later, so I am not caving.  No coffee, no chocolate, I hope.

I am simply going to take it easy.  One minute at a time.

It takes three to four days to clear the system of 75-90% of toxins and tiredness (assuming sleep in the meantime), and ten days to clear it entirely.  I am hoping in a few days to be able to function relatively normally and resume my regular daily activities.

Easy does it, a twelve-step Slogan, reminds us to be gentle with ourselves and  not burden ourselves with more than we can handle. We try to approach life in a relaxed manner while taking responsibility for living in the solution. Things have a way of unfolding when we are willing and patient.

EASY DOES IT!  I need to hear that.  And--DO IT!

An Easy-Does-it Sick Day or Four

What does it mean when someone with a chronic disease who works from
home decides to take a "sick day?"

I have fibromyalgia and with it, chronic fatigue. I am feeling
exhausted, depressed, and overwhelmed.

I always feel exhausted, depressed and overwhelmed. I am always sick.
But I still have my ups and downs and right now, I am having a down.
It's from the traveling, which is very hard on me.

I've decided I'm taking some "sick leave." I will get "paid" for it,
too, just as much as I always get paid: nothing at all. Well,
nothing for my labor. I do have a small income. And BB has one. The
pay, however, is not the point.

The point is, I am totally overwhelmed, sick and unable to cope. The
chronic fatigue that comes with fibromyalgia is getting the better of
me. I had 8 days of rain, soakings, insufficient sleep and bad food.
It's caught up with me. And I have too much to do.

I always have more to do that I have time to do it, more to do that I
have the energy to do. And there is guilt associated with that. I
feel as if I "should" be getting more done.

But STRESS is one of the major exacerbators of fibro and chronic
fatigue and it stresses me out that I feel guilty about not getting
enough done--and then I feel angry and resentful at everyone who I
imagine is judging me for my "laziness." "Walk a mile in my shoes," I
want to shout at everyone, because I am under the impression that no
one knows or understand what it feels like inside me with the pain and
exhaustion, because if they DID understand, they wouldn't expect so
much.

But--how CAN they understand when I live with it every day and I don't
understand. Why can't I function like a normal human being and get
more done? I must be lazy and if I am lazy, I must be BAD! That's
what I think about myself when I'm like this, and that's what I
imagine everyone else thinks.

But is someone with cancer or diabetes BAD because they have cancer or
diabetes? I don't think so. While some lifestyle choices may
contribute somewhat to either of those conditions, they are diseases
that are largely beyond the control of the sufferer--and so is chronic
fatigue, at least at this point. Though my choice to travel and the
subsequent choices that followed from that contributed to my current
state, am I supposed to remain sequestered and never move? NO! I
don't think so. Already my condition keeps me from a number of things
I'd like to do.

OK, so I am sick, genuinely sick, today. And I will be, probably, for
several more days. This is why I am taking some sick days.

So, what do I then mean by this? I am going to try to take it easy.
I am going to try to lower my expectations as to what I can accomplish
today and for the next few days. And, I am going to try to not beat
myself up when in fact, I accomplish little and was secretly still
hoping against hope to accomplish more. I am going to try to take
time to rest and relax. I hope to sit and simply rest from time to
time, and maybe even lie down. Something I rarely do (even at night,
LOL!).

I am feeling guilty also for feeling sad and depressed about my
condition--I've had it put into perspective because a person who was
once a very close friend and also a sister-in-law and is still
numbered among my dear friends has an aneurism and stroke and I
haven't heard any more, but I hope she's going to recover. I'm
frightened for her, and for myself, and for all of us. Stroke is
terrifying, can be fatal, can render one unable to talk or eat or
move. And I know little about what is going on with her, so I am very
afraid. Worried and beyond worried.

Even with the perspective that her condition is so much worse, and
that I at least am alive and able to function somewhat, I am still
suffering and overwhelmed. I am still taking some sick days. I need
them!

Life is short and could come to a sudden end at any time. Or be
irrevocably changed. I need to take the best possible care of myself,
and I need to start NOW--with a sick day. This day right here.
Today. Easy does it.

"Easy does it" is one of the slogans of the 12-steps, and it is one I
keep forgetting to practice. EASY DOES IT. One day at a time.

I am crying now, because I am so hard on myself. No one can tell,
probably, because I am such a failure. But I work SO hard at what I
think I should be doing. I need a little more EASY DOES IT before I
stress myself out of existence. Today. Now. Sick. Rest. Relax.
Easy Does it.

Mary, Thursday, October 02, 2008, 1:49 PM

The Zen Backpack

This is from a Wings 4 you challenge called Zen Suitcase. I made a
"Zen backpack." It's all the stuff I want to take with me into my new
improved life: my husband, love, happiness, paintbrushes, camera and
books, my manuscripts, and the paper dolls represent friends and
family. LOVE, yeah love. The backpack is the pot of gold at the end
of the rainbow, the dubloons represent abundance of all good things,
LOL! Ink and colored pencil with gesso and Wite Out for white.

The books represent books of healing, books of learning, and all the
books I want to write and illustrate.

Links

I'm adding some links to our list in the side bar that I think people will find interesting. The first is Isabella Mori's blog Change Therapy. She's a counsellor with a lot of useful information on the 12 steps and eating disorders. The other is Peggy Collins' Help Is Not A Four Letter Word, where you can get free information on how to ask for help.

Enjoy :]

Grateful

I am so grateful for the 17 years I had with my husband. When I first met my husband, I was 19 years old, and had just ended a five year abusive relationship. It sounds funny to say that now. How many 19 year olds have been in a five year relationship? At the time, though, it didn't seem strange. I dated him off and on through high school, and lived with him for a year, but it took several years to get over him. My husband helped me through it.

He was a patient man, who listened to me. He was 30 when we started dating, and he said that he knew right away that I was the one for him. I guess he was old enough to know what he wanted. I still had some growing up to do, so he waited patiently for me [a couple of years] to realize that he was the best thing that ever happened to me.

At first the relationship was awkward to me, and I was very insecure. I was so used to being put on a pedestal and then shot down, which is common in abusive and co-dependent relationships. He wasn't emotionally dependent on me, and it was difficult for me to understand why he was with me. He helped me to finally realize that he didn't need to be with me, he just really wanted to be with me. When I understood this, my life changed.

He was my best friend. We could tell each other anything. Nobody has ever known me, or loved me as much as he did. Not even my parents. With him, I learned self respect, and how to see myself as worthy of love. To him, I was special, even when we reached that phase in our marriage where we were in a rut and taking each other for granted. I could tell him I was bored, and he didn't get defensive or judgemental. We worked together to make our marriage more interesting and find new things to do as a couple.

We spoke the same love language. We both showed our love by being there and listening. All he ever wanted from me was for me to be home when he got home from work, to listen to how his day went, and to be on his side supporting him. He didn't care if the house was a mess or that there was no dinner. An hour or so of venting about work and a good back scratch, and he was happy. In return, he was always understanding of my depression, and never judgemental.

He wasn't perfect, though, and had his faults. He was messy. Ok, he was a slob. Sometimes, I would just give up cleaning up after him. I learned to live with that. He also wasn't very out going or social. As long as he had me around, he was inclined to be a hermit. To outsiders, he seemed grouchy, but to the people who knew him, he was laid-back and easy going. Everybody that knew him liked him. It was easy to overlook his imperfections and occasional grouchiness.

I have never met anyone that I've had more respect for. He was honest, hard working, and principled. He gave each job his best, even when the pay was little. A trait that was important to both of us. He had quite a reputation of respect in his industry. When a company had a job they couldn't fix, they would call whatever company he was working for at the time. He was proud of his reputation, but I was more important to him than his career, and he would always put me first.

As a result, I centered my life around him. I had no idea how dependent I had become on him until after he died. I trusted him completely, and didn't worry about him leaving me. On June 30th 2001, he died from a heart attack. He previously had no sign of heart trouble. I could not believe he was gone. It didn't seem real to me. Yet, there must have been a part of me that feared this, because I remember telling him once regarding his smoking, that I did not want to become a widow before I was 40. Now, seven years later at the age of 42, I find that I'm still lost without him.

What I miss most since he's been gone, is having him to talk to. Part of what I was learning when we were going through that "boredom" phase of marriage, was that I needed to find myself again as an individual rather than as a couple, and not be so dependent on my husband for happiness and purpose. This process was much easier when I could talk to him about it.

So, why am I so grateful? Most of the people around me are carrying some pretty hefty scars from their past relationships and marriages. I can't imagine going through what I'm going through today without ever having known the love, trust, and respect my husband showed me. Because of him, I know what a healthy relationship should be like, and how to love myself. He gave me the opportunity to see myself through his eyes, and no one can take that away from me.

The picture above is a T-shirt design that I made for him when we were first married, and I was working a printing company. He wore that T-shirt out.

The twelve steps and forgiveness

I just wanted to mention that the very effective twelve step programs
that helps so many alcoholics, gamblers, drug users and overeaters
deals more with forgiveness than any other issue.

Twelve Steps

1. We admitted we were powerless over
alcohol/drugs/food/gambling/other people(etc)—that our lives had
become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore
us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of
God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact
nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to
make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to
do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong
promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious
contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of
His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we
tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these
principles in all our affairs.

4-10 have to do with forgiveness, more than half, as does step 12,
which is to contue working the steps above. Being "restored to
sanity," has in large part to do with giving and receiving
forgiveness. (And of course, confession is such a large part of the
Catholic Church.)

Sunflower, first section

I have finished reading The Sunflower, just the first section of the book with Simon Wiesenthal's story. I cried a lot. Strangely, perhaps, I did not cry at all during most of the early book. I cried when he began to truly struggle with his memories and with forgiveness. I cried hard and loud and luckily was alone.

I also read one of the responses, the one from the Dali Lama. I have to say I found it a bit alarmingly pat, annoyingly so. I guess there was so much soul searching going on by Simon that I felt a pat-seeming answer was inappropriate. Somehow disrespectful. (I often feel that way when leaving comments on people's blogs who have exposed their souls, and I can only say, now now, don't worry, everything will be fine.)

But nothing will be fine, or, everything will be fine in the sense only that there is some perfection in imperfection.

I have struggled all my life with issues of forgiveness, but this book brings up larger issues than the ones I have previously deeply considered.

Are there unforgivable sins or wrongs?

Does anyone have the right to forgive on behalf of someone else or a group?

Are there times when forgiveness is actually wrong?

I always thought that forgiveness was always right, but that it was
just terribly hard to do in some cases.

I heard on NPR recently about a case where the parents of a girl who
was murdered somewhere in Africa has helped the murderer and now
consider him like a son.

I have a hard time imagining myself able to do something like that, or
even that it was the right thing to do. I was very upset and confused
when I heard the story.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. Clearly, we are not to take
revenge against others. And for Christians, Jesus died on the cross
so that our sins would be forgiven.

Which brings me to another personal story. This is a sort of weird
story and one that some people have reacted badly to, so I am a little
afraid to tell it, but I guess I will, since I seem to feel compelled
to do so.

First, a little background. My father was an atheist. He was raised
Catholic, but did not believe on God. My mother was an agnostic and
talked more and more about God, or the possibility of God, as she
aged. (This annoyed some of the other atheists in our family.) We
lived in a small community, and my parents liked to sing, and the only
opportunity for singing there was the church choir. We went to church
and my parents sang in the choir and we went to Sunday School.

When I was in high school, I was baptized and confirmed in the
Presbyterian Church. A few years later, I repudiated the Church and
God and became an atheist/agnostic. Confused, basically. I remain
confused, lo these many years later. I am of two minds, a scientific
mind that says life ends when we die, period, and a hopeful, questing
mind that seeks belief. I have tried many forms of religion over the
years and have been unsatisfied with each and all of them.

Maybe about ten years ago, or so, I was sitting in the little park in
front of the museum where I worked. It was evening, and I had had to
work late. I was alone, having my dinner break before returning to
work. I had been reading. The park and streets were full of people,
a small band was playing nearby. I stopped reading, looked around,
and closed my eyes briefly.

I was not asleep. I could hear a man talking on the phone (a pay
phone near me--this was before cell phones were so prevalent). I
could hear people talking on the other side of me, and people coming
and going.

Suddenly, Jesus was standing in front of me. I was not entirely
pleased and said something to him that would sound sarcastic and
disrespectful to a true believer, but I was not a true believer. I
said, "What are you doing here?" He smiled. He communicated to me
directly in my mind, like a conversation, only silent. He gave me to
know that he had been out on the desert fasting, praying and
meditating. That seemed appropriate to me, as I did a lot of that
myself. A connection, or sorts. Grains of sand clung to his skin. I
could see every hair and pore on his skin. He was deeply tanned and
nearly naked. He told me, very clearly, more than once, that I was
his, that I belonged to him, forever. That I was forgiven, now and
forever.

I think of that moment, sometimes, when I feel unloved and unworthy.
When I feel that I have done something bad, something unforgivable, I
remember that I am forgiven. At least by him.

Other times, I dismiss it as a hyopnogogic/dream or wishful thinking.
But I was fully awake and had not been wishing (consciously) for Jesus
and was not even pleased to see him! I did not consider myself to be
a Christian.

I still do not believe in God, not entirely, anyway. I do not attend
church and do not consider myself to be a Christian, exactly. But I
continue to find solace in the notion of my being forgiven.
Continuously, forever.

I have not succeeded in forgiving myself or other people I need to
forgive, with some exceptions, and I have not asked for forgiveness
from all the people whom I have wronged. I believe this is important
work and that I need to do it. Being forgiven by Jesus that night
does not excuse me from doing the important work of forgiving and
asking forgiveness. But it gives me a sense of peace and courage,
sometimes, when facing traumatic forgiveness issues in my life.

As an abuse survivor and very human and flawed person, I have lots of
personal forgiveness issues both in giving and receiving forgiveness.
But I have had little intimate experience, thank God, with the horrors
of genocide, war, and so on that Simon speaks of, or the incredibly
difficult choice he was given. I cannot answer what I might do, at
this point, or what even is right. I have to start all over to
consider these questions.

I keep wanting to believe that forgiveness is always right. But
torture? Murder? Rape? Inflicted terrible sufferings to total
innocents--children, the aged? If you forgive the perpetrator, what
about the victim?

The Dali Lama urges forgiveness and compassion. I want to agree with
him. Jesus said, love thine enemies. He didn't mean hug them and kiss them or have sex with them.

What did he mean? He meant compassion, forgiveness, understanding.

When someone hurts me, it takes me a while to reach the point of being
able to forgive--even small injuries.

Simon was still being hurt, and was in imminent danger. He was living
in fear and numbness. It's much easier to forgive from a distance,
much harder to forgive while immersed in pain. Closer to home, should
a woman who is in an ongoing abusive relationship forgive her husband
who is still beating her? As he is kicking her, should she forgive
him?

The Bible says, turn the other cheek. But that is easier said than
done, and may not be safe for the woman in question. I knew a woman
who was a very nice sweet lovable, kind woman, and very forgiving.
She kept forgiving her husband for striking her. Over and over, she
forgave him. He killed her. Killed her dead. Now she is gone.
Confusing.

I still think forgiveness is the right thing to do--but get safe
first, if possible.

I think I am rambling here. I think personal forgiveness is right.
It's what I believe in.

Forgiving for a group in a situation like Simon describes, that's a
little harder. No, it's a LOT harder. I still think I believe in
forgiveness. But could I do it, in that situation? Probably not.

Here's what I think. Each person is an individual. One cannot hold
the SS guy (Karl) responsible for all the sins and wrongs and horrors
of all the SS. Only for what he personally has done, and then you
have to look at the extenuating circumstances. You have to be able to
walk a mile in his shoes. We can't do that well. That's why the
Bible says, "Judge not, lest ye be judged." It's not our job to
judge. We cannot know, truly know, what is in the heart of another.

Can you forgive without making a judgment? Do you have to believe
that the person is "worthy" of being forgiven? Who makes that choice?
Can you forgive without it? I think yes. Personally you can,
anyway. You have to. For yourself.

Who do we forgive for? Ourselves or for others? Or both? I think both.

WOW! I could go on and on and on about this, but I have other things
to do, so I am just going to stop for now.  [All this relates to steps 4-10 and 12, which deal with wrongs and righting wrongs and forgiveness!]

(photo by me, mary taitt)