Because, really…I’ve feckin’ needed it.
So. First you have “When doctors and The Doctor collide” to catch up on.
Then. Your immediate response will likely be “It’s only hair.”
But…there are these feelz that have been surfacing over the past week and I’d like to illustrate one of the more important ones in order that you can best assess my current level of “Meh.”
1. Until now, lupus (and it’s mistresses: fibromyalgia and Type 2 diabetes) has been, for what it’s worth to the general population, invisible. I’ve been managing lupus and fibromyalgia for the past four years, Type 2 diabetes for the past eight years.
I’ve gone on to do oodles of awesome things in my life. I got married, I’ve been running my own business, became a Chartered Herbalist, owned my shit, engaged in a plethora of ritual celebrations…even helped my husband start his dream, Kubb Canada. I’ve been keeping of the doing and of the keepin’ on.
As I’ve been watching my skin fall off from psoriasis…as I’ve been having allergic reactions to the shampoos that had been prescribed to use, chemical burnt ears and nape of neck…something has happened to me on in the inside of “Me.” :
I have been watching disease come out from the inside…to be manifesting itself on the outside.
It wasn’t enough to have a hidden illness. Now there’s a visible one, to boot.
Suffice to say, I’ve not been very social. Everything causes me stress and anxiety. The news. The newsfeeds. The Everything.
“This too, shall pass.”
Dude. I know that. I really, really do. But what I really need right now, is to focus on “Me.” The soul-hurt and the heart-heavy.
Because I’ve had enough.
“But you do awesome things, all the time!”
Ponder with me the feelz on my inside: If nothing changed/was modified by those in my life/lifestyle upon the diagnosis of an invisible disease…and nothing has currently changed/been modified by those in my life/lifestyle upon the diagnosis of a very visible disease…
*gives you a moment or three to have a think on that*
And? That’s often the way life works, doesn’t it. No one *has* to giveth a shiteth. No one *has* to pick up the slack when my Go, Go SpazzyHands don’t work or I feel like death warmed over. But not warm. Because Raynaud’s is a bitch.
One mustn’t…and I cannot stress this enough…one mustn’t bully the “healthy” just because one got the “width of human hairs are longer than this sumbitch short end of the stick” one receives in life.
So? I’ve been taking a stand with myself to alleviate the stresses that I can, by finding comfort in the things that are “Me.” And, by finding #gladitude…those small things that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed if I’d not but taken a stolen moment to “See.”
Thanksgiving weekend at the cottage with all five of my spawn…who were totally amazing! No fighting or whining (because I would’ve totally lost my entire shit in the presence of the gaggle of folk gathered…true story) and many thanks that were given by all of them.
#gladitude: falling leaves from painted trees, frogs, warmth from the stellar orb, coffee, Buff tubes, finding escapism in the world of Minecraft (I still can’t walk a straight feckin’ line, but can I ever shear a sheep!), dollar store Star Wars math book that my littlest just-on-spectrum twin (Thing 2) has been working through with passion, Lush “Dream Cream” that my galpal Ang Googled that doesn’t make my skin fall off, my dog sneaking up the bed to lie at my back, friends who lend true, compassionate words of support and encouragement = time of their own spent in a little of mine, Samhain/Halloween decorations that are uber-cool…because the younglings are old enough to *not* freak the hell out \m/
Bonus: One drop of shampoo required. Hair dries in a microsecond. (But, not the shampoo that causes chemical burns to ones ears and neck)
*Not* bonus: All of my cool, geeky t-shirts & hoodies are…black. Not conducive to skin of the falling off variety. 🙁 I’ve spent I-don’t-have-the-budget for head wraps to keep the skin on the “in”…now it’s a Value Village hit-up for grey. Or, whatever.
It’s really been a help for the feelz this past week. I’m not “Eeyore Sad”…but I’m that kind of sad that just comes under the umbrella of “Enough.” The kind that you don’t ugly cry over, but the tears spill out over the ledges of your ocular orbs without any other facial expression. They just…fall out.
And so, I continue. I continue to find the little things that 1) reduce the anxiety, 2) minimize the stress and 3) find that bit’o’sparkle that will shine in the core of my soul and radiate to the Cosmos. The good one.
Because (sweet mother of all things holy do) I (ever need to) “Can.”