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Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Yesterday was an angry post. Anger, anger, and fear, really. That’s what fear does in me, keeping me going and out of bed, it refuels itself into anger.

Yesterday was all pretty scary for me, but also, I’ve heard fairly common. Mammogram call-backs, even biopsies, don’t necessarily mean doom. I didn’t know.

Today, I’m just tired. It’s emotionally draining stuff all that bare prodding, kneading and squishing while standing in a cold room in a loose drape. Doctor’s really should be more attentive to their medical language (so foreign), their demeanor (they may do this a hundred times a day, but this is MY first time. Be understanding. Use common English. Skip the big medical terms. I won’t remember anyway.)

And for goodness sakes, get your patient a chair before you break this scary news to her. All the blood is about to pool in her feet. It’s the least you could do.

Today, people sound very loud. I feel like a frail bird. I wish they’d talk softly too me. Pretend I was found in the park. Wrap me gently in a blanket. Give me something nourishing: coffee, warm bread, and just sit quietly by.

I believe I am going to be okay, really, but it doesn’t make this journey any less frightening. Except for the dogs, I’m going it alone. I refuse to worry my family–Oh, we are worriers! I couldn’t bear watching their worry, while dealing with my own. Too much! I can see the furrow in my mother’s brow from here, her hands wringing at 3a.m. No, no, no.

Coming here is good. I tell you. I get it out of my head. I move on. That’s what writing does. It buoys me, even rescues me, when I can’t get my arms around the monster in the room. Writing shrinks the monster. 🙂

I’ll let you know what happens next, when it happens. I know you are quietly listening and that helps enormously. Honest, engine. 🙂

d, xo

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I want to write a very long reflection on these days but I can’t. I need to stay off the computer, which is the hardest thing for me to do.

I haven’t had a migraine in two lethargic days. My pain went away, but my energy and emotional stamina is zapped. Still, I have come up for air and gotten a glimpse of the big picture again. It’s a start.

I went to the acupuncturist. What I wanted was something as simple as lying my body down on a comfortably warm table and getting plugged from head to toe in needles and sleep. What I did was fill out miles of overly personal biological info, get questioned for eons, then diagnosed into the gutter. Apparently, he tells me, with a frown, I am in bad shape. Well, no kidding. Anemia, hypoglycemia, hormones, thyroid, muscles carved in brick, etc, etc. He thinks I’m allergic to wheat, wants me to live on meat and vegetables ALONE for 3 WEEKS. No coffee, no bread, no nuts, raisins, cereal, yogurt, cheese. . . Can I re-mention the “no coffee” statement. I have little left, that I love, to give up. Finally, he got to the acupuncture and it helped, so much so, that I went out to the co-op, investigated things like “gluten-free” bread, wheat free cereal. I bought Omega-3 vitamins. I bought salmon, decaf, tofu, soy dogs. This isn’t brand new, it’s just brand new, again.

acupuncture by hradcanska, flickr

Life seems to be a series of endless starting-overs. Maybe, it’s just my life. My motivation, determination, memory, ebbs and flows. My only constant, that no one ever has to tell me to do, is walk the dog. I love to walk, really long, long walks, where no one can find me, where I can’t see or hear another soul. That’s hard to do in a city, but I make the effort for sanity.

My migraine is creeping back. I can feel it in the far splinters of my head, just a twitch. I took a long hot, submerged bath. wrapped my neck and head in Tiger Balm, took Advil, drank water, covered my eye, and yet, here I am typing! Writing is also about sanity. I don’t know what migraines are about.

Back to my pillow. I’m going back to the acupuncturist. I will let him talk about wheat, allergies, vitamins, diets, stress and hormones, while he sticks pins in my head, and I drift beneath it all, take a long walk in my mind with Zephyr down a long dirt road where it’s quiet and I can’t hear anything but the birds and the wind.

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Isn’t this lovely? It’s a “journal jar.” inside each is a batch of 100 journaling  ideas. This is my favorite and she has 5 others! Get over there and buy one. They’re so beautiful. Thank you InspirationMemories !

Sweet Sue, 1900s  inspired journal jar

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I’ve been working on my cards for Dahlila. They’re fun but they aren’t photographing well. They don’t pop–but then they are typed, HAND typed on an old Olympia manual. The fun is fading, as is the ink ribbon. My fingers hurt and I don’t think the antiquity of it all is appreciated, really. The computer printer is calling my name. . .

See, you can’t SEE the writing. This one says, ” Sharon discovered her family’s rantings were much less grating when she mixed the Adivan into her afternoon tea,” Dahlila 2008.

Now, that’s my kind of sentiment, which is why I wrote it. 😉 d.

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As a writer I am a pesky editor. I am constantly going back and rewording items that most won’t even read. Plus, now that I’ve admitted I’m a writer, YOU are now searching for errors, aren’t you? Please don’t. You will surely find some. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not perfect–even when I really, really want to be. 😉

I have just been scrambling to fluff my Etsy shop, make it more alluring. It’s hard to do. EVERYTHING is on the photos. I’ve reshot some and am now waiting for the fog to lift so I can shoot more.

I’ve been terribly productive making scarves and experimenting w/scarflettes, chokers, beads and buttons. Today a batch of felting is going for a hot bath and I am very excited to see the results. Felting is such fun.

I also went thrifting yesterday and found some wonderful sweaters. One to wear; one to revamp. A beautiful dark blue with light blue and white Swedish edging will make a great pillow cover. The arms will be wrist warmers–for Etsy or myself. I can’t decide. Sometimes selling is hard, since I design everything to be loved by ME.

Fog or not, I’m off to cafe for coffee and soup. Friday is clam chowder day w/baguette. R has been happy–his girlfriend? Yes or no? Who knows. Am tempting him to purchase fuchsia scarf for his darling daughter.

Postal arrival! Real mail from my dearest friend, T. It has squirrel stickers and a bumble bee. T sends lovely letters and cards.  Very happy. Coffee AND letter.

d.

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