I’m Scared

They say one of the best ways to deal with your fears is to face them.  To this end people have let spiders crawl on them, sat in rooms full of spiders or other insects/animals that the person is afraid of.  Som people have jumped out of airplanes and others have forced themselves into things like Toast Masters.

If you are a somewhat regular reader of this blog, you know my strong dislike for spiders.  I’m not sure if I’m afraid of them because I really don’t like them.  I know I’ve slept in a room where I had seen a spider, once. I know there are far more I can’t see so I probably sleep with spiders on a regular basis.  I’m positive I’ve eaten or swallowed an unfortunate spider at least once in my life.  So I dont think I need to let them crawl all over me, or sit in a room full of them.  I’m okay letting them do spider stuff and me do my stuff provided they keep their space away from mine.

Live jumped out of airplanes, with a parachute and person with me.  Just for the thrill of it.  I enjoyed it, we’ll all of it other than the landing.  The landing wasn’t enjoyable because ground is hard.  I’m not hard, I’m soft so hitting hard ground was not so much fun.

i don’t mind speaking, heck it’s how I pay some bills.  So I’m not overly afraid of that, although like any person I have insecurities around judgements and such.  I try to ignore them, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.  Most times it is because my speaking isn’t as good as I want it to be.

I have silly fears.  Fears like moths.  I know they can’t hurt me, I’m not wool so they won’t eat me, but I’m scared of them, same with butterflies, crickets, grasshoppers and such.  I’m scared to death of cockroaches, but a lot of people are I guess.  I’m not about to let any of those bugs sleep with me, or crawl in me and I’m most certainly not willingly going to eat one either.

I’m afraid of sharks.  Mostly because in the water I’m sure I look like easy prey.  A seal of sorts, that can’t swim as good as seals swim.  I can’t imagine what it would be like if a shark decided to “taste me” because let’s face it, they have big mouths filled with sharp and pointed teeth.

Face a shark?  No thanks, I can keep that fear.  Sure ive seen sharks, touched on once, in a special aquarium.  But hop into the water, the open water with sharks?  Hungry sharks?  No thanks!

I have a massive fear that when I die (I’m not afraid of being dead, worried a bit about the actual method/pain level) I will leave behind a horribly messy house for some poor soul to contend with.  All of my worldly possessions up for scrutiny and such.  What impressions and opinions will those make I wonder.

Of course I could get rid of the knickknacks now I guess and then the whole messy house, lots of stuff to sort out fear goes away or shrinks a bit.

I suppose I should be afraid of flying, because if there is an issue in the air, it normally doesn’t end well.  But I’m okay with flying, enjoy it for the most part.

Most of my fears are silly really.  Silly because when am I ever going to encounter a hungry Nile crocodile in North America? I guess to people who do not share our fears we seem funny to be afraid of what scares us.  But part of being human is to be scared.  And to learn from those fears and over come them.  It’s way to see just how strong we really are.

 

 

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Believing In Magic

There are some places, he told us,  where you can go and be transported to another place.  He pointed to a patch of land just up a small rise and said one night he and a friend spent the out on the hill.  He said that during the night, while he was down in his sleeping bag, he suddenly had a sense he was falling.

He wouldn’t take about the experience, beyond what he had offered.   If the fairies were going to come to us, they would.  If they didn’t want to, they’d leave us alone and we’d just have some time on the hill.  I didn’t say it out loud, but in my mind I was wondering what exactly he and his friend had been consuming before spending the night out on hill!

it isn’t that we believe in fairies as per say, but Beloved pointed out that there wasn’t an actual reason to not enjoy our time and the legends/stories from out here.  Besides it wasnt as if we’d spend a whole night out there!

This is pretty much the same thing he said when we were near Loch Ness and he wanted to see if he could find anything in the water.  That time we spent a week near the water.  I didn’t want a week on the hill.  😉

Perhaps because I don’t believe, perhaps because I doubt, the fairies never came to visit during our time on the hill.  I suppose the sad part is my inability to believe, that’s why the magic isn’t there for me.

Weighty Subject

When you have an autoimmune illness a lot of times part of the added fun is weight issue.  If they prescribe steroids for you, you are going to put on weight because you end up in a case of hungry-hippo starvation feeling.  So you eat and eat and eat.  Or you and retain water, for the hungry-hippo of course! 😉

Sometimes you eat to get rid of th horrible taste your medication leaves in your mouth.  Or to prevent yourself drin feeling sick (yes I know weird, but true).

Sometimes your illness makes weight loss near impossible.  You work out, you watch what you eat and still you keep the weight on.

And sometimes being with the “normal” people, the ones who can lose weight is a bit much.  Especially the calorie counting ones because despite you counting calories and spending more calories than you eat, you still gain weight. 😐

All around you are skinny people, people who are working on getting skinny or fit and watching what they eat and you just know that the glass of water your drink will add to your weight.  What is a person to do in this situation?

Well you can’t hide from the skinny or fit people, nor can you hide from those people who are counting calories.  All you can do is your best and try not to let those overly happy, weight losing people, get you down.  Especially if your weight gain is from steroids, because at least when you cycle down, you will drop the weight again.

Mission Success

The market had opened, which was good because I was a girl in a mission.  My kissing, much I had already accepted, was to acquire wool.  Nice, soft, lovely wool.  From sheep.

Because it is natural, there is no need to worry about to stuff  like dye-lots.  There will be some variations in the color, but it’s all natural and lovely.

So off I went, a bit like a runner out of the blocks, minus the running and the blocks.  Twelve balls was my mission.  Twelve balls of wool from a specific type of sheep…Jacob’s sheep.

while she was particular about where the wool came from, she wasn’t into spinning her own so I had to ensure it was already spun.  The market seemed the best pace to go so off I went, not a care in the world.

And then I hit  the market itself.  I cared where the wool was, how many place sold this wool and the price of it.

I found twelve lovely balls of beautiful wool, explained to the lady working there i had intended to ship them to North America.  She told me it was easier for her to get the product there because she could do it from her business account, so I had her parcel them up and ship them off.

WhenI returned home, I asked Beloved how he felt about a few sheep.  He said he preferred eating lamb to mutton, but if that’s what I had, he was okay with it.  I told him I wanted a few because they are cute as a button when they are lambs and they can mow the grass for us and we can shear them from wool.

Not missing a beat, he said we could milk them and make cheese too.  😉  Now frankly that is going a bit too far.  I don’t want to basically work on being self-sufficient, I just a few cute lambs!😊

needless to say, I am not getting my lambs, but the wool is on its way to North America!

Of Steamrollers, Lupus and Signs

There are days I want to  out an out-of-order sign on my body and just melt into the floor, or the bed or some other place.

In the cartoons, when a steamroller runs over a character, it makes the individual paper-thin and alms of as light as air.  Interestingly the steamroller only stretches the person into a taller form of his/her self.  I’m pretty sure in real life that same steamroller would make me go splat, and spread out in all directions.

I don’t live in a cartoon, but I do live with lupus.  This means that it only feels as if a steamroller drove over me, then reversed over me for good measure. 😳  Living with lupus also means that there are days that my body or brain is out-of-order.  Okay not really out-of-order,  it just seems that way.

There is another sign I’d like to have to hang, this one would read “do not disturb”.  This would be my magic weapon!  Never mine a magic wand, or a tank.  I’d much sooner have this sign, ask I could pull it out when lupus comes around.  I’d wave it and lupus would have to follow the directions.  Lupus would have to obey the sign and leave me alone! 😉

I guess that, though, is a bit like the steamroller in the cartoons!😊  I figure that they’d balance out in that world, but in this world, the one I live in, the only balancing is the daily act of living without lupus running my life.

It’s In The Name

If you name it, you can’t eat it because the animal ceases to be livestock and instead becomes a pet.  That as a hard fast rule I learned growing up.  To this day, if I bestow a name on sn animal I will not eat it!  Okay so I don’t eat dog or cat or newt so those were never up for the consideration of livestock.  But still.  I mean I’ve  held true to that rule all along! 😊😉

once you name something you are on different terms with that thing.  You perspective of it changes, which alters your behavior and attitudes towards said thing.  Once you name it, there is a personal connection, a link that has been made.

the same theory holds true, at least for me, when it comes to medical diagnosis.  Once you have a name for that which ails you, part of the struggle is over.  You know it’s “real”.  Sure it was always real to you, but now it’s been verified by the experts so to speak.

with that verification comes plans if attack, medicines and such.  There is a path that can be followed to some degree.  The foe can no longer hide behind complete invisibility for it has been found out, its ways somewhat known.

Ah the relief at knowing what type are up against, even if it’s something scary or horrible.  Knowledge is after all a bit of power and this helps move you from vulnerable the to slightly less vulnerable.  Decisions can be made, choices and options can be explored. A proper fight can begin because you and your medical tea, have a plan of attack and have some training in place.

when you can’t name it, when you have a broad category of “unwell” or “something is wrong”  the link is different.  The proof eludes you and you are fling with ghosts who don’t fight fair.

so next time when you think a diagnosis is horrible, realize the power of naming it.  Realize there is strength in just knowing what you have because behind that are attack plans and treatment courses and above all else proof that it is there and not a ghost.

Seeing Pictures

While going through some old boxes, I came across a stack of photos.  Most were black and white, a few were in sepia.  All of them featured people from another time and place.  Fascinated I lost track of time as I tried to sort out who these people were.

There was my maternal grandmother, looking self-confident and beautiful while she clung to the hand of an older man, tall and thin.  The woman I knew as my grandmother was nothing like this spitfire of a girl in the picture.  She had a look to her that said she knew what she wanted and she was going after it.  That tall, thin man she held hands with?  Her father, my great-grandfather.  He looked very serious and stiff in the picture.

Here is my maternal grandmother with her parents, both serious and dressed in dark clothing.  My grand mother is sitting on her father’s lap while her mother is flanked on either side by two older girls, and an infant rests in her arms.  Those older girls?  My grandmother’s sisters and the infant, her only brother.

There are photos of old houses, bikes, and smiling faces.  This, then, is the box of photos my mother hauled from place to place and hardly ever looked at.  She just needed to know they were there, as if by being able to touch the, she was able to connect again with her past.

The only photos that exist of my maternal grandfather are from his wedding day forward.  His family didn’t have time or money for photos.   It was only at the insistence of my grandmother that he ever had his picture taken.

In these wedding photos he looks impossibly young and full of hope, humor and mischief.  I have memories of him being a soft-spoken, quiet man.  When he was up for it, he’d have a wicked sense of humor, but he’d seen too much and been through too much by the time I was around.  Most he sat and kept to himself, smiling at some silliness I was caught up in.

My father never felt the need to have photos or sentimental items to keep in contact with his history.  He had exactly one picture of his mother, my paternal grandmother, when she was in her mid-teenage years.  And he had a copy of his parents’ wedding photo and was it.  His father was orphaned at an early age, living a had scrabble life in many ways.  My paternal grandfather had no time for frivolous items when he was young.  He was focused on becoming someone and not being dependent upon anyone for anything.

I have kept these photos and other’s because they are a link to so much that otherwise I wouldn’t know.  I dont see them as tying me to a place or people so much as creating a link that helps show where some of my habits and characteristics stem from.  And I keep them because. Am curious about the people and places, the lives lived and ended.

Truthfully most old pictures do that for me.  They ask me to consider the people and wonder what their lives were like.  Puzzle over the reason for some of these pictures and learn a bit about them.  I guess in a way it keeps them alive or in this world.