When Abnormal Is Normal And It Shouldn’t Be

A touch of this, a dash of that.  A careful swipe followed by a swirl until it’s all blended together.  A lesson in decorating a cake?  Hardly.  Just another sad attempt on my part to disguise the red patches across my cheeks.  Oh and highlighter or brightened to hide the dark marks below my eyes.

Some women wear makeup to enhance their looks.  Others as a form of battle paint so to speak.  Me?  I use it as camouflage, as part of my quest to look normal.  I mean who wants to see flaming red cheeks, dark circles under the eyes and exhaustion walking around among the healthy? So I try to blend in.

Some days I’m a little better at it than others, but of course it’s never fully successful. I mean you can’t hide the pain and exhaustion lupus brings.  You can’t hide the limping from sore joints and sometimes thinning hair cannot be artfully arranged enough to hide the thinner spots.

Make up never hides the turning down of invitations at the last-minute.  The apologies over and over again about how I just can’t do x right now.  Make up and clothes can’t hide the last-minute cancellations or having to leave early.

But still I try.  Because it’s important to feel normal, to be normal.  Although why I’m not sure.  Because normal varies from person to person.  Because lupus is not, nor will it ever be, normal.  Nor should lupus ever be normal…healthy should be normal.  The same can be said about cancer, chronic illnesses of all kinds.


Massive Monster

He wa covered head to toe in muted, almost muddied, green.  The kind of green you’d find in the camouflage section.  He was just missing flashes of orange, but then that would defeat the purpose of blending in.  Not that he was doing a good job of blending in, not when he was resting against the side of the house which was a pale grey.

A small part of me wanting to laugh at it all.  I mean he was doing a poor job of blending in, but at the same time he was huge.  Massive.  Larger than my hand.  Thankfully he hadn’t brought any of his friends.

I debated what to do.  They are, after all, related to locusts and as we know those will eat anything.  From what I know of grasshoppers, they do the est anything.  Goats, without wings or cute faces of soft fur and floppy ears.  You see grasshoppers have hard bodies.  Very hard bodies.  This I know because we once had a dog that couldn’t bite a grasshopper.  Sure he managed the legs, but the thing didn’t get bitten through.  Armour  I guess.

And now me of these monsters was on my house.  Surely he was sending out messages to the hordes as he cocked his head and twitched an antennae my way.  What’s a girl to do?

Beloved is of no use in these situations.  None at all.  To him it’s live and let live deal.  Until his car gets the paint eaten, or the rubber seal removed.  Then he is all about killing.  Usually with odd things, such as kitchen implements. Implements that must never be used again.

I grabbed the hose and turned it on full, pointed it at the offending monster and hoped it would keep away from me.  The thing with grasshoppers is they have incredible grip.  The water didn’t dislodge the thing.  Now water dripped off him, but still he sat.

Five tense minutes later he was gone.  No he didn’t hop away.  Mr. Crow decided that a feast of this size couldn’t be passed up.  And I was able to breathe normally, although I just know he was a scout.  The hordes are coming and I will be safely locked away n the house until, they are gone.  I don’t care what you say about them being harmless, I’m scared to death of these things!

Human Chameleon

It never occurred to me, not really, that I have adapted and adopted to my second home as easily as my first.

Perhaps it is because I take bits and pieces from all sorts of cultures, food and concepts. Whatever strikes my fancy and whim is tried and if it works it stays. Sure it’s all modified, but that’s okay.

A colleague recently pointed out that to a degree I am like a chameleon, blending into this backdrop of North America. And in the blink of an eye, albeit a long blink of an eye and an airplane ride, I blend into my Beloved’s European world.

I didn’t plan this, not really. Actually I had no idea hat there would be differences such as there are. Instead I only knew that Beloved’s main home worked for him, and his established life and career, just as mine worked for me. Neither of us thought the other’s career was lesser than the others and so we maintain two households on two seperate shores.

Beloved has smoothed into this world of ours rather easily as well although I suspect there are times he struggles with it. There are some things he cannot give up from his home country, one of them is the correct way to make things like tea.

I’d like to say I’ve adopted a “when in Rome,” attitude, complete with a shrug of the shoulders, but that’s not really true. Guess having been exposed to so many cultures throughout my life, I’ve had time to learn and find joyous things in all of them.

This colleague of mine, the one who made the remark, pondered if there were places I wouldn’t fit. And of course there are. I’m Western enough to stand for this idea at women are not subservient, that women are just as capable as any man. I also don’t hold my tongue nor do I sit by as things happen. I believe we are all equally and entitled to things like education.

My friend decided that there were places that a feminist could not live. There is truth in this, but I quickly pointed out I’m not really a feminist. Not really. Sure I won’t get married because I don’t think I need it. What does the piece of paper prove these days? The whole idea of marriage from a historical sense indicates that one person is of less worth than the other.

What I am, when you get right down to it, is an equalities type of person. Equalities regardless of gender or race or religion. Not in the sense of socialist either, for we should get paid for our efforts of work. Rather I believe we all are capable of things and sure gender gets in the way of how we do things, but that’s about it.

So I guess maybe as also part of the chameleon disguise I chose to wear. I enjoy observing and absorbing things that I find positive and uplifting. I chase knowledge like it is an elusive butterfly, not carrying where I have to go for the knowledge, but only that I’ve given it it’s full breadth. Again it helps to be a bit of a chameleon. Perhaps that’s what I do best, just blend and mix as needed.

Some might be insulted by what my colleague said, but not I. I took it as a compliment and started to reflect on other people I know and how they do these things.