the last few months have involved a continual cleansing process in my life. i've been de-cluttering, purging, letting go. i've quit smoking, come off of medications, thrown out or given away what amounts to several truckloads of things. i'm putting less garbage in my body, and letting go of the physical things that surround me. what i didn't expect, in all of this, is that i'd be purging the people in my life too.
it's a strange thing that's evolved, and i can't quite put my finger on how or when it started, but slowly & surely i've let some people go from my life. at first i didn't really think anything of it, because it's really common for me to go through periods of hermit-like behaviour and just shut the world out, especially in winter. but this year has been different. i haven't felt the need to make excuses, or apologise for not keeping in touch; some of my relationships have just organically shifted, and in a few cases, basically ended. the strange thing this time, is that in a few cases, when the opportunity to do so has arisen, i've realised i don't want to resume the friendship.
last week i had a long visit with someone who was, until recently, one of my bestest. for no particular reason, just a little of this, a little of that, we had barely spoken in months, and hadn't had a good visit in a few. it didn't feel like a break-up of the friendship, although i had intentionally put some space between us at other times in the distant past. when we got together though, and she expressed how much she's missed me, i realised just how far we had come from the kind of friends we had once been. though i still love her, i really don't feel any pull to go out of my way and resume the closeness we once had.
i'm wondering if the difference lies in where my spiritual life has gone lately. since receiving my Reiki Master attunements, not just my body, but my mind, my very soul, have been much more clear with what they want - and what they don't want - around. hours of real crime shows & crime dramas are no longer entertaining, but just make me twitchy. music with sexist, violent, racist lyrics compels me to switch channels. i find myself trusting my instincts, my intiution more, and if something makes me uncomfortable, i don't do it.
that's not entirely true. if i sense the discomfort is something i need to confront, like in an anxiety exposure exercise, then i'll feel the fear and do it anyways. different kinds of discomfort require different responses. some things i just don't do. i'm speaking up more about things that are hurtful to others, but perhaps most important, i'm speaking up about things that are harmful to me. i'm not interested in putting up with disrespect anymore, because bottling it up not only hurts me more, it denies the other party the opportunity to be called on their shit & decide if they want to continue, or do things differently in their lives.
more interesting things have come from this practice. i'm finding myself more and more surrounded by people who also value honesty & respect. i'm drawing in people who are committed to self-reflection & self-growth, and those people in my life who are interested in drama, and finger-pointing, and self-indulgence are slowly but steadily moving on. i'm truly relishing all the deep conversations, all the mucking about in dark areas of the psyche, explorations of the underbelly of the human soul. i'm spending more time deepening my awareness, and my spiritual practice, and i'm realising those people in my life who are leaving aren't inherently more flawed than anyone else, they were just taking up space i'm now using for things that make me much happier. i hope the space i've left in their lives fills up with something equally joyful :)
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
more than two months medication-free :)
when i started this here blog, i intended to use it as an online repository of my thoughts and as a record of my steps in recovery from severe mental illness. i haven't, in retrospect, really accomplished that particular goal. Or at least i haven't really formally recorded too many steps i've taken, tangible things i've done, etc. This whole thing is, in large part, for myself, though by making it a public blog my intent was to lend a small modicum of support (of the you're not alone variety) to other folks struggling to make sense of their selves.
And so, a post about recovering from anti-depressants/anti-anxielytics. specifically, Effexor) If you've ever taken Effexor, and tried to stop or missed a dose, you'll know first-hand that the withdrawal symptoms can be more horrific than any symptoms it's prescribed for: neurological symptoms that comprise everything from dizziness to uncoordinated movements and tremors to the sensation you're being electrocuted over & over for weeks on end. Depression, anxiety and paranoia that not uncommonly escalate into delusions and even full-on psychosis. sleep disturbances. violent intrusive thoughts. nausea with or without vomiting. i could go on, but instead i'll just add these links in case you're interested in more.
So under a doctor's supervision, i began scaling back my Effexor dose at the end of last summer. We discussed my goals & motivations. i want to become pregnant & Effexor can cause complications during pregnancy. It's also risky in terms of life long disabilities to children born of women who consumed Effexor during pregnancy. I'd rather be through all the withdrawal before even attempting to go there. I've completed a round of cognitive behavioural therapy relating to my OCD/hoarding, and have great social supports in place. I'm not formally employed, but want to start my own business, and didn't want to go through withdrawal after starting that process. He agreed it was a good idea to see if i was able to go drug-free. There's clinical evidence that folks with a true clinical depression prescribed Effexor have a 50% decreased chance of relapse as compared to consumers of other antidepressants.
The withdrawal was horrible. We stepped down my dose by 37.5 mg every few weeks, and each time the first two weeks at the new dose was a struggle. I was blessed to have my Muse with me throughout the process, as well as the support of my parents and a few close friends. The final step down from 37.5 mg to nothing was the start of one of the most difficult months of my life. It was uncomfortable to do anything other than lay down for hours each day (and even laying down i didn't feel well). You know that sensation when you spin a bunch of times in a circle & stop? when the pressure on your head feels like an explosion is imminent? When you move your head & it takes your eeys a few seconds to catch up & refocus & all the while you still feel like you're in motion? Yeah, that. That for about three weeks solid. No reprieve, just slightly better and worse moments. That & migraines, irritability, violent intrusive thoughts, sensitivity to noise & light. Honestly the first night i was without vertigo i danced for hours in my living room because it felt so good to move without puking.
I didn't tell most of my friends what i was doing, because i didn't want to deal with well-intentioned, yet misinformed questions like, "how will you control your depression without drugs?" How misinformed, you may ask? Depression is generally episodic, with some people experiencing relapses. Being on the same dose of meds long-term treats depression as a chronic condition. There's little evidence to suggest that someone who is depressed will always continue to be so. The first psychiatrist who told me this was a Ghanaian-Canadian woman who hadn't bought into North American pharmaceutical marketing rhetoric, and she urged me to go off my meds so we could assess if i actually still needed them. I was 18 at the time, and lived drug-free for the next 3 years with nowhere near the skills and supports i now have. I intend to keep thriving, drug-free, this time.
And i do mean thrive. My life is better in most ways than i ever remember it being. I'm in close contact with both my family & my birthfamily. I've started teaching Reiki professionally. I'm in better physical health than i've been in recent memory. I auditioned for and was asked to join a performance art troupe. I'm writing poetry again - profusely! Mentally i feel much clearer, much more lucid.
It's certainly not all sunshine and roses, but mostly it is. I have some days when anxiety & intrusive thoughts make an appearance. If yoga, meditation, journally and/or Reiki fail to calm the monkey mind, i take a little herbal remedy. I'm cautious about my use, because cannabis can exacerbate depression & anxiety if over-used. So far it's brought increased calm & additional clarity. It was absolutely indispensable in getting me through all the nausea of withdrawal, but since that's resolved i'm using it less and less. It's been ten weeks since i stopped Effexor entirely, and i haven't felt any signs of relapse. huzzah! :)
And so, a post about recovering from anti-depressants/anti-anxielytics. specifically, Effexor) If you've ever taken Effexor, and tried to stop or missed a dose, you'll know first-hand that the withdrawal symptoms can be more horrific than any symptoms it's prescribed for: neurological symptoms that comprise everything from dizziness to uncoordinated movements and tremors to the sensation you're being electrocuted over & over for weeks on end. Depression, anxiety and paranoia that not uncommonly escalate into delusions and even full-on psychosis. sleep disturbances. violent intrusive thoughts. nausea with or without vomiting. i could go on, but instead i'll just add these links in case you're interested in more.
So under a doctor's supervision, i began scaling back my Effexor dose at the end of last summer. We discussed my goals & motivations. i want to become pregnant & Effexor can cause complications during pregnancy. It's also risky in terms of life long disabilities to children born of women who consumed Effexor during pregnancy. I'd rather be through all the withdrawal before even attempting to go there. I've completed a round of cognitive behavioural therapy relating to my OCD/hoarding, and have great social supports in place. I'm not formally employed, but want to start my own business, and didn't want to go through withdrawal after starting that process. He agreed it was a good idea to see if i was able to go drug-free. There's clinical evidence that folks with a true clinical depression prescribed Effexor have a 50% decreased chance of relapse as compared to consumers of other antidepressants.
The withdrawal was horrible. We stepped down my dose by 37.5 mg every few weeks, and each time the first two weeks at the new dose was a struggle. I was blessed to have my Muse with me throughout the process, as well as the support of my parents and a few close friends. The final step down from 37.5 mg to nothing was the start of one of the most difficult months of my life. It was uncomfortable to do anything other than lay down for hours each day (and even laying down i didn't feel well). You know that sensation when you spin a bunch of times in a circle & stop? when the pressure on your head feels like an explosion is imminent? When you move your head & it takes your eeys a few seconds to catch up & refocus & all the while you still feel like you're in motion? Yeah, that. That for about three weeks solid. No reprieve, just slightly better and worse moments. That & migraines, irritability, violent intrusive thoughts, sensitivity to noise & light. Honestly the first night i was without vertigo i danced for hours in my living room because it felt so good to move without puking.
I didn't tell most of my friends what i was doing, because i didn't want to deal with well-intentioned, yet misinformed questions like, "how will you control your depression without drugs?" How misinformed, you may ask? Depression is generally episodic, with some people experiencing relapses. Being on the same dose of meds long-term treats depression as a chronic condition. There's little evidence to suggest that someone who is depressed will always continue to be so. The first psychiatrist who told me this was a Ghanaian-Canadian woman who hadn't bought into North American pharmaceutical marketing rhetoric, and she urged me to go off my meds so we could assess if i actually still needed them. I was 18 at the time, and lived drug-free for the next 3 years with nowhere near the skills and supports i now have. I intend to keep thriving, drug-free, this time.
And i do mean thrive. My life is better in most ways than i ever remember it being. I'm in close contact with both my family & my birthfamily. I've started teaching Reiki professionally. I'm in better physical health than i've been in recent memory. I auditioned for and was asked to join a performance art troupe. I'm writing poetry again - profusely! Mentally i feel much clearer, much more lucid.
It's certainly not all sunshine and roses, but mostly it is. I have some days when anxiety & intrusive thoughts make an appearance. If yoga, meditation, journally and/or Reiki fail to calm the monkey mind, i take a little herbal remedy. I'm cautious about my use, because cannabis can exacerbate depression & anxiety if over-used. So far it's brought increased calm & additional clarity. It was absolutely indispensable in getting me through all the nausea of withdrawal, but since that's resolved i'm using it less and less. It's been ten weeks since i stopped Effexor entirely, and i haven't felt any signs of relapse. huzzah! :)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
so last night, at a party to do some fundraising work for a local festival, i met the current fiancee of my former fiancee. i knew she was going to be there - the host had warned me ahead of time - and i didn't want to be awkward, but i suppose some degree of discomfort was to be expected.
there were some conversations that were a struggle. at one point i was talking about my degus, and she jumped in, interrupting me, to talk about how awesome degus are, and how her fiancee had the cutest awesomest degus, and telling stories about them & these kittens that were living there at the time, blah blah blah. i found it extraordinarily hard to not interrupt & bitch her out. i mean please, she never met my fucking degus. she never met two of the kittens mentioned, and she's interrupting me to tell stories about them? a few minutes later, when the conversation moved on to a local campus she attends, & which guests work there, she asked how long ago i had worked on campus, and suggested i might know her awesome fiancee! "uh yeah. i used to be engaged to him." i managed to restrain myself and to gently point out that the degus she had just been talking about were, in fact, the same degus i had been talking about. what i really wanted to say was, "oh and the degus you were talking about, the ones you never actually met, those were my degus, that your charming fiancee dropped like a bag of burning dogshit when we split."
i don't actually dislike her, but i can't say i'm a fan either. she's extraordinarily young, and terribly insecure, and emotionally very teenager-like. it was hard listening to her bitch about my former mom-in-law, and whining about some really insignificant thing that had happened and how it was so obviously the biggest, worst thing ever to happen! and to sit there realising that had i not miscarried, i would have given birth to my first child (and said ex's first child) while she was still in elementary school. fuck.
as i listened to her talk, especially as i observed her distain for children & her self-absorption, i realised again how utterly grateful i am that the Ancestors, Spirits & my Higher Self did not allow that pregnancy to come to full term. a number of friends & family members are currently going through messy separations, and i am so utterly grateful that not only is the ex not in my life, but that this woman is not participating in raising my child.
when i got home i laid in bed for a while, angrily tossing and turning. it's amazing to me how most of my ex-partners are people i still utterly love and cherish, yet there are a few i'd still like to punch in the face. i don't know that there's a decernable pattern in who fits into which column, but the ex-fiance/handfasted partner/common-law spouse is certainly in the latter group. i'm still angry that he told me after we split that he would never again date a younger person, never again date a student, and yet at least two of the women he dated after leaving me were teenagers when he first started seeing them - this one included. i try really hard to not be judgemental about age differences between partners, but there's something extraordinarily skeezy to me about a man in his thirties who dates a 19 year-old. i don't know if it's my in-born suspicion of men, or my intimate knowledge of this particular man that has me judging him. i wonder, if someone continues to get older, and yet he keeps dating people who are younger, and younger, what does that say about his emotional development? i can't help but draw the conclusion that he's still avoiding all the difficult work of self-interrogation that enables a person to learn and grow as an emotional being.
so last night, after an hour or so of tossing & turning, i got back out of bed. i had a good cry for the child that i lost, and reminded myself that being grateful for the way things turned out is not a rejection of that child's life, nor is it being grateful for his death, but rather it's gratitude that he's waiting for a healthier time to come through. i smudged, and read some Dharma (Buddhist teachings), then sat in meditation and released all unjust anger. i let go of all that anger that no longer serves a purpose in my life now, or in the future. i released all anger that would harm myself or others. i held onto the anger that is just, that is productive & protective, all that anger that is meant for healing & learning, but all other anger i released. i feel pretty exceptionally good today after it all, and way less irritable than i've been over the last few weeks.
i think i'm getting a handle on this life thing :)
there were some conversations that were a struggle. at one point i was talking about my degus, and she jumped in, interrupting me, to talk about how awesome degus are, and how her fiancee had the cutest awesomest degus, and telling stories about them & these kittens that were living there at the time, blah blah blah. i found it extraordinarily hard to not interrupt & bitch her out. i mean please, she never met my fucking degus. she never met two of the kittens mentioned, and she's interrupting me to tell stories about them? a few minutes later, when the conversation moved on to a local campus she attends, & which guests work there, she asked how long ago i had worked on campus, and suggested i might know her awesome fiancee! "uh yeah. i used to be engaged to him." i managed to restrain myself and to gently point out that the degus she had just been talking about were, in fact, the same degus i had been talking about. what i really wanted to say was, "oh and the degus you were talking about, the ones you never actually met, those were my degus, that your charming fiancee dropped like a bag of burning dogshit when we split."
i don't actually dislike her, but i can't say i'm a fan either. she's extraordinarily young, and terribly insecure, and emotionally very teenager-like. it was hard listening to her bitch about my former mom-in-law, and whining about some really insignificant thing that had happened and how it was so obviously the biggest, worst thing ever to happen! and to sit there realising that had i not miscarried, i would have given birth to my first child (and said ex's first child) while she was still in elementary school. fuck.
as i listened to her talk, especially as i observed her distain for children & her self-absorption, i realised again how utterly grateful i am that the Ancestors, Spirits & my Higher Self did not allow that pregnancy to come to full term. a number of friends & family members are currently going through messy separations, and i am so utterly grateful that not only is the ex not in my life, but that this woman is not participating in raising my child.
when i got home i laid in bed for a while, angrily tossing and turning. it's amazing to me how most of my ex-partners are people i still utterly love and cherish, yet there are a few i'd still like to punch in the face. i don't know that there's a decernable pattern in who fits into which column, but the ex-fiance/handfasted partner/common-law spouse is certainly in the latter group. i'm still angry that he told me after we split that he would never again date a younger person, never again date a student, and yet at least two of the women he dated after leaving me were teenagers when he first started seeing them - this one included. i try really hard to not be judgemental about age differences between partners, but there's something extraordinarily skeezy to me about a man in his thirties who dates a 19 year-old. i don't know if it's my in-born suspicion of men, or my intimate knowledge of this particular man that has me judging him. i wonder, if someone continues to get older, and yet he keeps dating people who are younger, and younger, what does that say about his emotional development? i can't help but draw the conclusion that he's still avoiding all the difficult work of self-interrogation that enables a person to learn and grow as an emotional being.
so last night, after an hour or so of tossing & turning, i got back out of bed. i had a good cry for the child that i lost, and reminded myself that being grateful for the way things turned out is not a rejection of that child's life, nor is it being grateful for his death, but rather it's gratitude that he's waiting for a healthier time to come through. i smudged, and read some Dharma (Buddhist teachings), then sat in meditation and released all unjust anger. i let go of all that anger that no longer serves a purpose in my life now, or in the future. i released all anger that would harm myself or others. i held onto the anger that is just, that is productive & protective, all that anger that is meant for healing & learning, but all other anger i released. i feel pretty exceptionally good today after it all, and way less irritable than i've been over the last few weeks.
i think i'm getting a handle on this life thing :)
Friday, January 22, 2010
water is a cleansing gift
i am filled today with such deep, deep sorrow. i am an empath - one who can feel the emotions & physical experiences of others - and i'm having one of those days wherein i can no longer discern what is mine, and what belongs to those around me...
a number of my loved ones are dealing with the resurfacing of deep wounds, of dark & painful memories, and even worse, with the realisations of how deeply their lives are still affected by the horrors they have survived. it's reminded me of how much healing there remains to be done in myself, in my own life. it's also reminded me that lots of us walk around looking so together on the outside, and yet operating from a place of disbelief that we even deserve to be happy, that we deserve any love, that we deserve anything good. it's also reminded me that sharing my vulnerabilities can help someone else feel less alone.
at the same time i'm feeling so much gratitude. a Haitian friend has been found safe in Canada. people are still being pulled alive from the rubble. the world community community is waking up to the realities of unfair debts that place nations such as Haiti in a state of perpetual poverty. Canadians are rallying across this country demanding our government behave democratically, and to hold accountable those responsible for abuses in Afghanistan. i truly believe that the world is becoming a better place.
and yet... in this country, people with mental illnesses are still often treated as less than human. rates of recovery for mental illness have worsened over the last 50 years, in spite of - of perhaps even because of - the variety psychiatric medications that are widely available. rather than helping people live clean & sober lives, the disease model of addictions has led many addicts to battle endlessly with substance use (and other self-destructive behaviours), believing themselves victims & invalids, incapable of actually changing their lives.
yesterday i received news that a friend had passed some months ago, his death the result of a drug overdose. he was Mohawk & white. he was raised in a family that had survived, but never really healed from, the horrors of the residential school system. his mother's own struggles with addiction led to her early death. an AA membership & "treatment" for bipolar disorder did nothing to furnish him with the tools needed move past his traumas. he hit his partner, and within his shame & anguish of finding himself continuing the same cycle of abuse that had brought him to that place, he chose the only way out he could see.
so tonight i find myself crying many hot, salty tears. i'm crying for the children (and the adults they've become) who have endured things no being ever should. i'm crying for parents who were themselves once these same children, and who never had someone help them learn differently. i am crying for children who have lost their parents entirely, and parents who have found their children dead amongst the rubble that once was Haiti. i am crying for friends who made it out safely, yet who's family have not.
and i'm crying for myself tonight too. i'm crying for the things i have overcome, and i'm crying for all of the things i have not yet healed. i'm crying for the deep deep blessings of being a healer, and having so many other lightworkers in my life. and i'm crying in the hopes that one day there will be enough healing for all of us to grow past our traumas, and into the light.
a number of my loved ones are dealing with the resurfacing of deep wounds, of dark & painful memories, and even worse, with the realisations of how deeply their lives are still affected by the horrors they have survived. it's reminded me of how much healing there remains to be done in myself, in my own life. it's also reminded me that lots of us walk around looking so together on the outside, and yet operating from a place of disbelief that we even deserve to be happy, that we deserve any love, that we deserve anything good. it's also reminded me that sharing my vulnerabilities can help someone else feel less alone.
at the same time i'm feeling so much gratitude. a Haitian friend has been found safe in Canada. people are still being pulled alive from the rubble. the world community community is waking up to the realities of unfair debts that place nations such as Haiti in a state of perpetual poverty. Canadians are rallying across this country demanding our government behave democratically, and to hold accountable those responsible for abuses in Afghanistan. i truly believe that the world is becoming a better place.
and yet... in this country, people with mental illnesses are still often treated as less than human. rates of recovery for mental illness have worsened over the last 50 years, in spite of - of perhaps even because of - the variety psychiatric medications that are widely available. rather than helping people live clean & sober lives, the disease model of addictions has led many addicts to battle endlessly with substance use (and other self-destructive behaviours), believing themselves victims & invalids, incapable of actually changing their lives.
yesterday i received news that a friend had passed some months ago, his death the result of a drug overdose. he was Mohawk & white. he was raised in a family that had survived, but never really healed from, the horrors of the residential school system. his mother's own struggles with addiction led to her early death. an AA membership & "treatment" for bipolar disorder did nothing to furnish him with the tools needed move past his traumas. he hit his partner, and within his shame & anguish of finding himself continuing the same cycle of abuse that had brought him to that place, he chose the only way out he could see.
so tonight i find myself crying many hot, salty tears. i'm crying for the children (and the adults they've become) who have endured things no being ever should. i'm crying for parents who were themselves once these same children, and who never had someone help them learn differently. i am crying for children who have lost their parents entirely, and parents who have found their children dead amongst the rubble that once was Haiti. i am crying for friends who made it out safely, yet who's family have not.
and i'm crying for myself tonight too. i'm crying for the things i have overcome, and i'm crying for all of the things i have not yet healed. i'm crying for the deep deep blessings of being a healer, and having so many other lightworkers in my life. and i'm crying in the hopes that one day there will be enough healing for all of us to grow past our traumas, and into the light.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the promise of more beauty to come <3
from notebook: november 8/09
There's this kind of beautiful promise in a brand-new notebook - pages perfectly clean & untouched, edges crisp, the sound and sensations of turning a page for the very first time it's ever been turned.
I'm hoping this week - maybe even today - i will finish off my last notebook & be able to recycle it all. It's a work book really. It contains notes from my OCD hoarding texts, draughts of poems, a dozen or so fragments of journal entries that were intended to become blog posts, plus to-do lists, gratitude lists, accomplishment logs, shopping lists, etc. The poems i intend to type into my laptop, & email the files to myself (just in case), and likewise with the notes from a recent business course. The gratitude lists i'll probably re-read for a smile, then let go to recycling. . . some of it will make it into this brand-new notebook, i'm sure.
Things have been happening at what feels like break-neck speed lately. I'm incredibly grateful for having received my Reiki Master/Teacher training in June, most especially for the attunement themselves. We did a lot of healing work on ourselves and each other, and the attunements (like a Buddhist empowerment, or a Christian sacrament of baptism) cleared so much energy, so much resistance in my life. I feel like most days i can now just intend for something to be learned, or some past hurt to be let go, or what have you, and it just happens. It's new and powerful, and sometimes i forget about it. It's a good thing to remember, because i certainly don't want to focus my intent on negativity, but also because there's no good reason to make things any more difficult than they need to be.
The energetic and physical clearing happening in my home is very nearly breathtaking. I realise that probably seems like a funny thing to say. . . i imagine most people just think they'd like to have a clean, tidy house, and then just do it. Then again, perhaps more people find decluttering difficult than i believe is the case. Regardless, this process of overcoming my OCD-driven hoarding is an absolute joy. It's brutally hard work at times. It's emotionally exhausting, mentally challenging, and has pushed me to the absolute limits of what i believed i was capable of. The end result, thus far, is that i've had to accept that i'm capable of far more than i ever gave myself credit for. That's a little un-nerving i suppose, but overall, sheer bliss <3
There's this kind of beautiful promise in a brand-new notebook - pages perfectly clean & untouched, edges crisp, the sound and sensations of turning a page for the very first time it's ever been turned.
I'm hoping this week - maybe even today - i will finish off my last notebook & be able to recycle it all. It's a work book really. It contains notes from my OCD hoarding texts, draughts of poems, a dozen or so fragments of journal entries that were intended to become blog posts, plus to-do lists, gratitude lists, accomplishment logs, shopping lists, etc. The poems i intend to type into my laptop, & email the files to myself (just in case), and likewise with the notes from a recent business course. The gratitude lists i'll probably re-read for a smile, then let go to recycling. . . some of it will make it into this brand-new notebook, i'm sure.
Things have been happening at what feels like break-neck speed lately. I'm incredibly grateful for having received my Reiki Master/Teacher training in June, most especially for the attunement themselves. We did a lot of healing work on ourselves and each other, and the attunements (like a Buddhist empowerment, or a Christian sacrament of baptism) cleared so much energy, so much resistance in my life. I feel like most days i can now just intend for something to be learned, or some past hurt to be let go, or what have you, and it just happens. It's new and powerful, and sometimes i forget about it. It's a good thing to remember, because i certainly don't want to focus my intent on negativity, but also because there's no good reason to make things any more difficult than they need to be.
The energetic and physical clearing happening in my home is very nearly breathtaking. I realise that probably seems like a funny thing to say. . . i imagine most people just think they'd like to have a clean, tidy house, and then just do it. Then again, perhaps more people find decluttering difficult than i believe is the case. Regardless, this process of overcoming my OCD-driven hoarding is an absolute joy. It's brutally hard work at times. It's emotionally exhausting, mentally challenging, and has pushed me to the absolute limits of what i believed i was capable of. The end result, thus far, is that i've had to accept that i'm capable of far more than i ever gave myself credit for. That's a little un-nerving i suppose, but overall, sheer bliss <3
Friday, November 13, 2009
not the kind of heart-pounding excitement i'm generally into...
i’m absolutely terrified.
My Muse’s heart is pounding – a fast, irregular beat that’s hard to pin down. My mother’s dad died when he was 42. A past love died at age 41. My last partner’s father died at 44. That alone wouldn’t be enough to launch me into paranoia, but my Muse was also diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. He told me he was once given just a few months to get his blood sugars under control before being prescribed insulin, which he did. I’m skeptical when he says he’s not currently diabetic, because my understanding was that insulin treatment comes well into the progression of diabetes, not near the beginning. I’m confused and concerned: Muse has been avoiding testing his blood sugars for i’m not sure how long, but certainly a few months, as i don’t believe he’s tested them since we’ve been dating.
i know he’s an intelligent man – he’s seriously a fucking criminal genius (except mostly law-abiding) – and in most ways he’s soooo good at taking care of himself. He pays attention t o the amount of sleep he gets, drinks lots of water & little alcohol, avoids too many sweets…he keeps his mind open & clear with challenging reading and serene meditation…i could go on, but the overall pattern is that he’s good at balance in most things, and he dives deeply into things to fully understand them. I find it hard to believe that he dedicated himself to lowering his blood sugars (and did it) without totally throwing himself into understanding insulin-related illness, their etiology, prevention, and treatment.
Because of all this, i can’t get my head around the possibility that he may not understand (or know all about) the long-term consequences of continually fluctuating blood sugars and/or untreated diabetes. The damage to internal organs alone is frightening, nevermind the threat to limbs and extremities. There’s got to be something else going on, and i have no idea what.
I don’t know what to do. Earlier he was complaining of back pain & a stiff, sore shoulder. He’s getting over the flu, and often suffers shoulder pain. He had a tightly wincing pain in his neck…same possible explanation as above. Last night and today his breathing was laboured and wheezy…fuck, and now this. After he told me about the chest pain i started to get really scared & he could see/feel my rising panic & immediately recoiled, and asked me to stop…i don’t think my fear is at all helpful, and i don’t think it’s at all unreasonable either… maybe i should just go upstairs and check in… i don’t think i can be there without worrying – and that’s stressful for him. If i’m down here on the couch worrying, will that be stressful? Fuck. I’m so afraid he’s having a heart attack…
* * * * *
So i chose to go upstairs, and when i did, Muse was happy to see me again. We snuggled briefly, my mind racing about how much – if anything – to say. After what seemed like only a moment, he said he needed more space. i was so confused. i tried to make myself as small as possible, to take up just a sliver of the edge of the bed, hoping he just meant physical space, and that he would give me some indication of wanting to snuggle again, if that’s what he wanted. I was so cold, so heartbroken…the gap between us felt like a vast emotional chasm & the actual space let in a stream of cold air down over my extremely sore spine. I shivered with sadness, cold, & pain through the night. At one point Muse got up to use the loo, & when he came back he crawled on top of me, over the blankets. He said he was loving me up because i seemed so sad, but when i asked why he thought that was, he just sighed and went back to his side of the bed.
It was a long night, and in spite of all my physical discomfort & emotional angst, i actually came to some good insights. I realised i’d been making some decisions over the previous few days that were really self-sacrificing in an unhealthy way… I don’t want to insinuate that selflessness is a bad thing, even for me. I think making decisions for the benefit of others is a beautiful thing when done joyfully, but it’s not at all beneficial (for anyone) when it’s done out of feelings of obligation, or self-deprecation, or when there’s an expectation of anything in return. I need to come to some…conclusions…decisions? i don’t know the word i’m looking for. I need to find ways i can support my Muse in his journey towards better health that feel good for me, and that also feel good for him. I also need to find a way to be able to express my concerns for his health in a way that he understands comes from a place of love, and a desire to see him happy… We had a decent chat in the morning, before we needed to part ways. i’m hopeful we’ll get to a good place with this. In the meantime i’m taking some time to review my own self-care goals, and recommit to the ones i’m already working on. First stop, yoga!
My Muse’s heart is pounding – a fast, irregular beat that’s hard to pin down. My mother’s dad died when he was 42. A past love died at age 41. My last partner’s father died at 44. That alone wouldn’t be enough to launch me into paranoia, but my Muse was also diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. He told me he was once given just a few months to get his blood sugars under control before being prescribed insulin, which he did. I’m skeptical when he says he’s not currently diabetic, because my understanding was that insulin treatment comes well into the progression of diabetes, not near the beginning. I’m confused and concerned: Muse has been avoiding testing his blood sugars for i’m not sure how long, but certainly a few months, as i don’t believe he’s tested them since we’ve been dating.
i know he’s an intelligent man – he’s seriously a fucking criminal genius (except mostly law-abiding) – and in most ways he’s soooo good at taking care of himself. He pays attention t o the amount of sleep he gets, drinks lots of water & little alcohol, avoids too many sweets…he keeps his mind open & clear with challenging reading and serene meditation…i could go on, but the overall pattern is that he’s good at balance in most things, and he dives deeply into things to fully understand them. I find it hard to believe that he dedicated himself to lowering his blood sugars (and did it) without totally throwing himself into understanding insulin-related illness, their etiology, prevention, and treatment.
Because of all this, i can’t get my head around the possibility that he may not understand (or know all about) the long-term consequences of continually fluctuating blood sugars and/or untreated diabetes. The damage to internal organs alone is frightening, nevermind the threat to limbs and extremities. There’s got to be something else going on, and i have no idea what.
I don’t know what to do. Earlier he was complaining of back pain & a stiff, sore shoulder. He’s getting over the flu, and often suffers shoulder pain. He had a tightly wincing pain in his neck…same possible explanation as above. Last night and today his breathing was laboured and wheezy…fuck, and now this. After he told me about the chest pain i started to get really scared & he could see/feel my rising panic & immediately recoiled, and asked me to stop…i don’t think my fear is at all helpful, and i don’t think it’s at all unreasonable either… maybe i should just go upstairs and check in… i don’t think i can be there without worrying – and that’s stressful for him. If i’m down here on the couch worrying, will that be stressful? Fuck. I’m so afraid he’s having a heart attack…
* * * * *
So i chose to go upstairs, and when i did, Muse was happy to see me again. We snuggled briefly, my mind racing about how much – if anything – to say. After what seemed like only a moment, he said he needed more space. i was so confused. i tried to make myself as small as possible, to take up just a sliver of the edge of the bed, hoping he just meant physical space, and that he would give me some indication of wanting to snuggle again, if that’s what he wanted. I was so cold, so heartbroken…the gap between us felt like a vast emotional chasm & the actual space let in a stream of cold air down over my extremely sore spine. I shivered with sadness, cold, & pain through the night. At one point Muse got up to use the loo, & when he came back he crawled on top of me, over the blankets. He said he was loving me up because i seemed so sad, but when i asked why he thought that was, he just sighed and went back to his side of the bed.
It was a long night, and in spite of all my physical discomfort & emotional angst, i actually came to some good insights. I realised i’d been making some decisions over the previous few days that were really self-sacrificing in an unhealthy way… I don’t want to insinuate that selflessness is a bad thing, even for me. I think making decisions for the benefit of others is a beautiful thing when done joyfully, but it’s not at all beneficial (for anyone) when it’s done out of feelings of obligation, or self-deprecation, or when there’s an expectation of anything in return. I need to come to some…conclusions…decisions? i don’t know the word i’m looking for. I need to find ways i can support my Muse in his journey towards better health that feel good for me, and that also feel good for him. I also need to find a way to be able to express my concerns for his health in a way that he understands comes from a place of love, and a desire to see him happy… We had a decent chat in the morning, before we needed to part ways. i’m hopeful we’ll get to a good place with this. In the meantime i’m taking some time to review my own self-care goals, and recommit to the ones i’m already working on. First stop, yoga!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
i've been somewhat frustrated lately with blogging - or rather frustrated by not blogging. i have 2-3 entries (maybe more actually) written down on paper, but when i get to the laptop either i go blank & my anxiety peaks, or i avoid it & get drawn in by crackbook & twitter. When i do type a post directly into blogger, i end up re-reading & editing the post for an hour or more after. it's a real struggle to resist the correcting compulsion.
so i've determined that the best way for me to continue with this whole process is to keep writing in long-hand, then type it up later. Sure, it doesn't mean you'll see my updates in "real time," but is anyone demanding that besides me? i think not. i was reading the Daily Coyote the other day, & found it's author Shreve Stockton saying the exact same thing. Since the whole point of this blog is to document my recovery & to share my struggles & triumphs with others - not to be an exposure exercise in and of itself, that's how i intend to proceed. please bear with me, k?
i'm also reworking the tags/labels to do away with the lolspeak. sure it's fun, but it's somewhat geek elitist, and not terribly helpful in search engines. hurrah for progress!
so i've determined that the best way for me to continue with this whole process is to keep writing in long-hand, then type it up later. Sure, it doesn't mean you'll see my updates in "real time," but is anyone demanding that besides me? i think not. i was reading the Daily Coyote the other day, & found it's author Shreve Stockton saying the exact same thing. Since the whole point of this blog is to document my recovery & to share my struggles & triumphs with others - not to be an exposure exercise in and of itself, that's how i intend to proceed. please bear with me, k?
i'm also reworking the tags/labels to do away with the lolspeak. sure it's fun, but it's somewhat geek elitist, and not terribly helpful in search engines. hurrah for progress!
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