*So, I'm doing Oprah and Deepak Chopra's 21 Day Meditation Experience. Why not? It certainly could only help me.
At times in my life, meditation has been too difficult, because it would bring up ugly stuff floating around in my mind that was too difficult to look at. I have been pretty good at processing events and such that I feel guilty about (guilt for me is the number one cringey issue that makes my brain want to run away) and moving those feelings through with the experience/release process that I learned in a book I can't even remember what that book was called*, but it was both boring and helpful at the same time.
*Update 3/23/2018 I looked up the book. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1963638.The_Untethered_Soul
After reading some of the book Writing Down the Bones I learned that some of us do better with writing meditations. So I wrote -- over and over - om laghu bhavram. I found this very helpful, and I worked on trying to think about the meaning of om (I'm) laghu (lightness) and bhavram (itself) without translating it in English through my brain each time. I'm not quite there yet, but I know that if I can connect the words with the images in my mind I won't have to take that extra step.
I did find this first experience heartening and far more enlightening than I imagined. I certainly feel down, slow, and heavy today in part because of the last few months and how difficult they have been, yesterday's burden, and the tapering of prednisone.
I've been too beat up by life lately to be particularly hopeful, but I will freely admit to enjoying the experience.
What I absolutely love is the first centering thought:
"My struggle has ended. I am in harmony with myself."
Sounds like kind of a death, right? That's not the death I've been experiencing.
The Triumph Of Death by Pieter the Elder Bruegel
I'm doing all I can to make money on TPT so that I don't feel quite as worthless. I wonder how I'll do. I still feel pretty worthless though. Things are still very rough and painful and wrong. This is not just about me. I can see that other members of my family are suffering about things that do not have much of anything to do with me. I'm not happy that they are having difficulties, and I'd like to help, but I'm relieved that at least some of the trouble isn't about me.
Going to see Lynn at the beginning of April hopefully will give me a direction. Thank God for her.
I want to rise up like a phoenix, but I'm getting worried. What if I just stay here? Dead?
Perhaps its having no answers to my questions about my health that leaves me lost on this landscape.
Maybe it's my son who is so... what? What is he right now? Fourteen? A teen? Angry? Is he? I am not in a place where I find the teenaged-boy brain comforting. It's unsettling, insensitive, ignorant. But that's not him. He has always been different -- he has been my companion, my friend, my thoughtful, knowing, and wise child. He's bouncing off of peers now and that's normal. I worry, though, because I see him becoming inflexible. I don't want to see him become that person with his significant-other-to-be. I see him putting rigidity and judgment over love and joy. I see him being unhappy, escaping into a virtual world. I hope I'm wrong. I just miss my wise child. I'm sure he'll come back again; he's still in there somewhere.
My daughter and I are close, but she is so emotional and right in the midst of what may be some of the toughest years of life for a girl (and many guys too).
I can depend upon other people to a point for support, but ultimately this is about me. I've got to become a friend to myself. Drop the self-pity. Drop the self-destruction.
And orchestrate my own rising.
I think I can do it, but I'm truly better off wandering the desolate landscape right now, dodging the ghouls.
My daughter has suffered the most with my illness. I'm on a drug that, well...
"Prednisone 'roid rage can turn some people from a mild mannered Dr. Jekyll into a raving Mr. Hyde. Irritability, aggressiveness, anxiety, mania, and depression. -- Health Central
I"ve got to get off of this stuff. In the meantime, this piece is in way of apology to my daughter.
Remember all those qualities I wrote about in what a true friend would be to me? Well, she is my daughter, but she is my true friend as well. She is by far the most loving and caring friend I have ever had.
She is brave. She would go on adventure with me. She's up for anything.
She is passionate about this experience of life and being.
She instinctively knows that enjoyment of life is more important than a green lawn or a vacuumed rug.
Here is what I want for her:
1. To see how beautiful she is. Why is it so hard to see that when you are thirteen? Maybe it's hard for any woman to see it. She is beautiful on the outside, but she sees flaws. I do know that it has been proven that when a teenager looks in the mirror she is usually unable to accurately see the image that is looking back at her. It has something to do with development at that time. I think she looks at herself and sees defects, when she is actually, objectively very beautiful. (I have had a problem with this my whole life -- I guess I'm stuck in a developmental stage).
2. To love her body.
3. To be brave. To dive right in and tackle anything she wants to do. To never let the jealous ones, or the arrogant ones, or the negative ones get her down.
4. To love and be loved. I hope she will always, always know how much she is loved. By me. By her father. By her brother, even (though he just can't show it 99% of the time). By her friends. And maybe someday by a significant other who shares her goals, dreams, and desires -- though I hope she doesn't think any one other is necessary for her happiness. She's got everything she needs inside of her. She's the coolest.
There's more. but I've got to go pick her up from school now.
Being metaphorically dead, (actually I'm not sure if that is how to describe it) or maybe spiritually in limbo or spiritually or psychologically dormant -- whatever state I'm in whether it be psychological, spiritual, and/or physical -- I'm not going to rise up like a Phoenix right away. That's okay, though. I can feel it. Though I am anticipating my reawakening, I understand that I need to be in the ashes for awhile.
My cough was better for several hours today. Maybe that prednisone is actually getting to it.
While I was in the disappearing stage of all of this I had so much to write about. I was in a spiritual crisis, struggling to communicate with my loved ones, and looking to move the balance of my "life worth living" scales. Now the balance of my scales is better. I see many reasons to live and much enjoyment ahead. I'm just not there yet. And my writing is just simple and matter-of-fact right now. I have no desire to wax poetic or be quite so self-indulgent.
I've been organizing, cleaning, moving bags and bags of stuff out of my house. I'm getting ready for change. I travelled a bit which took me out of myself quite well (skiing). I have not gotten back to writing in a meaningful way. I think I'm ready to begin soon. I'll be turning Liz's novella into a screenplay. I need to think about some secondary characters and subplot. She' s missing a subplot, but this is my first short so I'm not sure if there is much time for it. I've been watching Bates Motel with John again. John and I have been bonding through TV and reading Star Wars. It's a challenge -- bonding with a fourteen year old in the throes of puberty, but we were always really close. I think we both felt it slipping and we are coming back to each other again.
I wonder when I'll come back to life. And I wonder what it will be like? My significant other is trying to hold on to the way things were. Sometimes I can get through to him that everything is different now, but he's not a "flow" kind of person. He's more like a boomerang. He continually comes back to try to recapture something he believed existed in the past. I'm not sure he has the ability to authentically move forward with us, with him, or in his relationships, but really it's not my problem. It can't be. I've got my own rising to work on. I know that's harsh, but ultimately we have to follow our own paths in life. Sometimes they are side by side and other times they're not. My path has departed his for now. If he tries to get off of his own path to join me on mine, it will never make him happy. And my path will veer further away from his.
I'm going to see Lynn, a psychic medium in Metuchen. She is someone who I used to see (the last time I saw her was about three years ago). She is a legit psychic with a strong moral compass. I have to say I didn't get quite that vibe from the lady in Woodstock. I have never seen Lynn with the intention of communicating with my parents (maybe mostly because I'm always a little mad at them for leaving me -- I know how unfair that is after all these years). They always come to the session though, and this year I think I'll talk to them if I can. My question to them is why they can't ever seem to help me. I have asked them for help through the years, and from my narrow Earth perspective it doesn't feel like they answer or offer any help. The other person that always comes to the sessions with Lynn is my husband's deceased sister. It's interesting how my mother said at one of the sessions that "she doesn't stand with me," because she is not from my side of the family. I barely know her, but I like her. I like how she shows up. And I like how she tries to get through to my husband. We are kindred spirits in that way, I guess -- trying to get through to someone who is not spiritually open.
The reason I haven't seen Lynn is that she was going through something -- not sure what -- but she didn't see clients for awhile. She wasn't returning my texts to make an appointment and I gave up. Then, I was trying to sell some old biofeedback software and found her information again. Just yesterday, I found some notes I had made based upon a reading with her from about 2010. What she knew about my parents and my husband's sister was just impossible for any fake to fake. (ha ha) I had forgotten she was that good. Not that she couldn't mess up, but she even messed up in ways that proved she sensed stuff. For example, she saw my mom being furious at my dad for all of this stuff -- boxes of useless papers and books -- that he refused to get rid of. That was actually me mad at my significant other about his useless boxes of papers and stuff. I had just organized the entire basement in an effort to sell the house, and I set aside tons of old computer training books and papers and asked him to go through it and get rid of everything and to this day we still have all that crap. Sometimes the only solution is a sneaky one. If I'd done the "wrong" thing and just pitched it myself then I would not still be saddled with it and he'd be 100% ignorant of the "loss." Sometimes I think I should do the wrong thing more often.
Anyway, it's 5:00am and the prednisone still keeps me up and energetic. If you ever want to see a truly legitimate psychic medium in action find some reruns of The Haunting of... with Kim Russo. She's the real deal like Lynn. The difference is that she's probably made millions doing it. I think it's interesting that Lynn just stays in her little house in Metuchen doing readings for $85 an hour. It's not bad! I envy her, having a skill that can bring in that kind of money.
The picture below is from my favorite episode: The Haunting of Charles Shaughnessy. I love it the most because that man is a beautiful soul and his whole in-spirit extended family accompanied him on that journey.
I've wept all those tears today. And I'm dead. And I've finally disappeared. So all feels like it could be okay again.
And I think I'll reappear again soon! And I'll never regret dying, and I won't regret the tears. And I'll want to live again.
You may be curious as to why I had to disappear and die. I can't put details here in public, but I spent a lifetime betraying myself and my true feelings. I didn't like myself. I didn't want to cause pain, discomfort, and trauma. So I tried to make something work that could not work. And I suffered and made others suffer by being weak and afraid. It was partly my baby Voldermort (my illness) and partly my finding a good therapist to tackle my lifelong eating/body image disorder that allowed me to die. It took too long, but no regrets. It took as long as it needed to take. And when I rise up again, like a Phoenix, I'll be beautiful. I won't be a passive aggressive bitch, I'll be a wicked crispy bitch!
Update 6:02PM: Having had to die today was such a good thing, but it really wears a person out. All I can do is just sit here like a zombie. I'm not floating in the heavens making plans to come down yet. I am floating, but no plans at all. Just a welcome nothingness.
Below is the old picture of me as I was disappearing.
So of course the doctor didn't contact me until I contacted her. I don't have MS. At least I guess not. No lesions in the spine. I do have numerous lesions of the brain. Who knows what that means?
I'm relieved, of course. The more I think about it and what I would be facing with MS the more relieved I feel.
I am now, however, back in the same stupid boat. I have no diagnosis. No reason for my cough. And now I may lose my mind (I think I already have) and have a stroke or several.
In spite of my low blood pressure I guess I'll start some baby aspirin. What else is there to do?
You know how most people just hate that "everything happens for a reason" stuff? Well, I did learn something from all this. I believe it's going to change my life for the better. I've learned that I'm not going to continue on living in a way that makes me miserable. I do care how my decisions affect others, but I won't sacrifice myself for them anymore. And I won't spend another moment with other human beings who cannot see me for who I am... not another moment.
All I know is that I have this one life to live at least for now, and I'm not going to live it the way I did before. I'm done tolerating misery and praying for it to get better. I'll make it better. Period.
And I'm getting a lot less worried about how other people deal with what I need.
I am not as angry today, yet it wasn't pleasant. I wouldn't want to live through a repeat.
That's me. Acting like a baby. Indulging in self-pity.
I need this time to wallow. I'll get back to being selfless another day.
The harder my life gets, the less guarded I will be here. I am willing to be reckless, I guess. Privacy schmivacy. Who cares? It's just life on Earth.
I am waiting for results of an MRI. No matter what the results, there will be a level of suffering, because if it's MS then I've got MS. If it's not, I have missing myelin sheath, and no reason for it. And I'm sick.
And then I'm truly lost.
I know life is suffering, but I'm not being very Buddhist about it.
I think about my mom when she had brain cancer. She kept asking my dad to take her to this particular apple orchard. I know how she felt. She needed to get out, get away, escape the suffering. My suffering is not physical pain, though. It's dread. It's a sense of impending doom. It's profound disappointment. And it's not just about my stupid cough. (That's the part I continue to keep private for now).
This is just a down day. My up one might come tomorrow.
That's how it works with me.
Waiting for this test result... that's what's getting to me.
**UPDATE** Still no results yet, but I wanted to mention that I got over this misery in just a couple hours. Here is what helped. I sewed some pillows (I never would have sewed if not for the influence of Vera Farmiga and Norma Bates). Then, I went to the gym and did an intense 2.5 miles on the elliptical. Sometimes exercise does not help me. In this case, it really did.
You won't, so I'm done.
And you see yourself honestly.
You put on a burqa.
I have no energy to undress you.
I don't want to.
A lifetime victim.
Sarcasm: (Isn't it fun to live with a martyr)?
If you were a self-professed asshole,
I might love you.
I'd respect you more.
If we are what we eat, do you eat fear?
My friend will do this and understand this:
I need a dog. Anyone who knows me just a little knows that I need to have a dog to breathe. S/he would love me so much that s/he would find me the perfect, beautiful canine companion and buy it for me as a surprise.
My friend would want to read my writing. My friend would crave to know what is going on inside of my subconscious even if it challenges his or her own belief system.
My friend would love to get coffee and talk late into the night.
My friend is brave and might go on adventure with me. Maybe we would sell everything we own and go to Bali.
My friend would have deep thoughts and share them. S/he would be passionate about spirituality
My friend would know that enjoyment of life is more important than a green lawn or a vacuumed rug.
My friend would see my children (and my dog) for the magical, beautiful souls that they are.
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