Rolling Along

Some times you just need to roll wth it even if it’s not your your cup of tea.  Unless of curse you own it all, then you don’t have to roll with it.  And let’s face it, adapting to change, making comprises aren’t always fun, but it’s better than rolling in it, if you know what I mean.

Today was one of those days where I had  just roll with things.  No nd dnt want to, no it wasn’t my idea of a good thing, but it sure beat rolling in poop, which is what would have happened if I decided not to roll with things.  It doesn’t mean I have to enjoy rolling with things, it just means I know it needs to be done.

So I rolled with it, considered things a fair compromise and got on wth the getting on.  Meanwhile a friend had decided there was no way for her to roll wth it because she didn’t see the comprise as being fair.  So she fought it, except she was fighting out administration which is a stacked deck.  It wasn’t fair, but she knew that going in.  And at the end of it, she rolled in crap just to end up having to get on with what I had agreed to roll with.  

Difference, since neither of us liked it, ncould see a compromise.  And am not a fan of rolling in poop when I get crapfrom administration.  So she rolled in poop and is still having to make the changes.  Ultimately you could say she’s a bit of a stinker and I came out smelling, well, at least better than her.

The Promise I Made

Years ago I promised myself that I would never let lupus run my whole life.  I would still do as much as I could, even if it meant doing it differently than I had first thought I’d accomplish things.  And if it meant altering some of my dreams so be it.  But I would not allow lupus to take over my life.

It was a very easy promise to make.  Especially as it was made from a place of anger.  It was and always has been much harder to keep that promise, but not impossible.  Soemtimes it has meant taking a few steps back or a pause to find my way through the trees that make up the forest.  And sometimes it has seemed a never ending struggle, but it has always been worth it.

I wish there was a basic formula that would work.  One I could share and encourage other lupus warriors with.  But the illness is as unique as each person who has it.  No one set formula works.  But over the years, I have learned compassion and compromise work wonders.  

That means showing myself compassion when I’m in the midst of a struggle.  It means finding a compromise that I can live with and doesn’t cause a lupus flare.  It has meant accepting help, sharing a dream to allow others to let it grow.  Mostly it has meant letting go of anger and hurt and getting on with living as fully as I can.

Dancing In The…Kitchen

The soundtrack to the days of my misspent youth filled the air as I sliced and measured. The four-footed one danced back and forth near my feet.  It wasn’t so much the music that had her dancing as the hope of something good falling down to her level.  We had spent a few hours enjoying the music, the weather and creating in the kitchen when Beloved came in.

He wrinkled his brow at my taste in music and politely asked that I turn it down.  He mumbled something about aliens from the next galaxy being able to hear the music, but I promise you it really wasn’t that loud.  It’s more a case of Beloved and I enjoying different things including the type of music we enjoy.

Pits moments like these, when he comes home from something very serious and formal that I am reminded of the gap in our age as well as the different childhoods we had.  Where I associate the music of my misspent youth to innocence and fun, Beloved associates the same type of music to a more serious time in his life.  His early teenage years were jot spent visiting amusement parks, beaches and such.  Instead he worked to help bring home money or so he could eat more than one meal a day.

His memories, associated with this soundtrack are so different from mine, so filled with more serious and real issues.  Alas the music of his early years is stuff I have only ever heard on the radio that played “easy listening” stuff.  In other words the stuff my parent so out do site now on even though Beloved is nowhere near their age.

When he came back into the kitchen, looking less formal and adult, I turned off the music while he put on some swing music.  That way we could dance, sort of, together in the tiny kitchen while we finished pulling the meal together.   It’s our compromise, he that we do a million times over in the small space.  We turn off our individual soundtracks and found one that pleases both of us!

Sleeping On Change

You can do anything for five days, someone once told me.  You can a mange anything for ten days the same person told me.  And yes I can do most things for five days, but is five days enough time to truly make a change?  What about ten days?  Is that enough time to make a lasting change?

A different person told me that if you are trying to change something it takes a minimum of thirty days.

Still another person told me that if you really want to make a change it is simple and can be done overnight.  The key, this person told me, is knowing why you want to change.  Provided that it’s for yourself, anything is possible.

But what about when you want to change something that is beyond your control?  The only thing you can realistically change is your response to that what isn’t how you want it. Which again is not always the easiest thing to do.  And when it comes to wanting someone else to change, well that’s just waiting for a huge fight isn’t it?

I know there are things done Beloved wishes would change about me.  Just as there are things I wish were different with him.  But asking someone to change just because I want him to, because it fits my ideals more, is not only silly, but down right wrong.  I’ve no right to ask for these changes.  So we compromise on most things.  But we now have hit an area we cannot ignore any longer.

First let me say this, I adore my four-footed companions.  I just don’t adore sharing  my bed with them.  As in they are in bed sleeping now it has else.  Their furry heads on my clean pillow.  Their sandy feet in my clean sheets.  Beloved sees nothing wrong with this.  He doesn’t mind and can’t understand how I’m okay with them sleeping on the foot the of the bed, but nothing higher.

So when the four-food wonders are with me alone, they sleep on the foot of the bed and when they are alone with Beloved, they sleep in bed.  Clearly this isn’t fair to them.   And we haven’t worked out how to compromise on this.  So whether its five days, ten days, thirty days or overnight, I don’t see the change happening yet.  Because we aren’t sure what to change.  Crazy yes?

Promising Compromise

I tried to adopt a piglet today.  Apparently they frown upon that in this place, we’ll probably most places.  She was a cute little piglet, spotted and ever so sweet.

She followed me and looked up at me with these loving eyes that demand she be picked up to rest her dainty feet.  While I held her, yes I held her, she squealed her request to come home with me.  Her current owner told me that the piglet had “taken a shine” to me.  So of course I simply had to bring her home.

So being a logical type of sole, I left my wee (get it?) little friend at her current residence and went about gathering information to adopt her.  Only to discover I’m not allowed.  I was told it simply wouldn’t be in the pig’s best interest.  Which of course is silly.  I’d love her and teach her all new things.

It can’t be a mixed species thing because I have a puppy and there is no problem with that.  Unless they discriminate against pigs, I pointed out.  And the lady told me ever so gently that it wasn’t that.  She was sure I was pig friendly.  She had no doubt that I would love the piglet and provide for her.  It was, she said with a slight smile, a case of zoning.

Cities aren’t zoned for livestock or farm animals.  Even if it’s a pot-bellied  pig.  Pigs are deemed livestock. And no, she told me, I can’t call her a special dog or use her as a helper animal.

Dejected, I drove home and felt sorry for my precious piglet and myself.  Beloved told me he had a fix and suggested we get in the car.  He drove back to the piglet’s house and spoke briefly with the owner.  She told us she couldn’t promise anything, she had to speak with her husband, but it may be possible to own the piglet and simply have the piglet board there.

On the drive home, Beloved told me it was the best comprise we’d get.  So maybe we shall have the piglet after all.  Whee!

Full Of Living Life

I was listening to a man explain that the key to living your passions in life is to just simply do it.  If you dream it, or have a passion for something, you should simply go about and try to live it as fully as you can.  Abandon all paralyzing fear, set aside judgements and excuses and just do it.

it all sounds so easy, I mean you boil this down to a few simply phrases and viola you are on your way.  Except it’s never that easy.  First you must find you passion.  Not a passing lust, but a pure passion.  Next you need to take you passion and apply it to your whole life.  Sometimes at the cost of things.  You must put you full energy into this without excuses.  Try that when here is so much stuff going on in the “sidelines” of your life.

My father once told me that if you got to the end of your life with little regrets and no energy leftover, you probably lived a full life.  He also told me that to move a full life you had to set aside things like worrying about what other people would think about you.  He told me he didn’t think he’d make the grade on living fully and he was okay with that.  He may have a few more regrets, but he certainly wouldn’t have had to kick out some space to light the way for what he wanted so that was an ideal trade-off.

perhaps to live your passions you have to be willing to have that become your whole life.  Sure you make some space here and there for the other stuff and people, but you must live completely for and with your passion.  And that can be daunting as well, when you consider how many aspects of your life might be ignored or placed on a lower priority.  I know my dad wouldn’t be happy living that kind of life.  The question is, where do I fit into that equation.  How about you?  Where do you fit?

I Go Because…

Isn’t it funny how with the right person things you swore you’d never do or enjoy become things that you do and if not enjoy than at least enjoy the time they afford you with that person?

I wasn’t born with ice skating ankles.  As a matter of fact I was born with the opposite kind of ankles so the minute I put on a pair of ice skates, my ankles give way and I’m flat on the ice.  And for the record I’m not a fan of sitting, falling or crouching on the ice.  I’m also not a fan of being put in a position of not being able to stand up.  In other words ice skating is not my idea of a good time.  Cold, by the way, is also not my cup of tea.

Beloved, on the other hand, has discovered his inner ice skater.  He isn’t very good a time to, it he enjoys going out and strapping in some skates and not-exactly-gliding his way across the surface.  He seems to have at least partial ice skating ankles to support him.  He has no need to hold into boards to make his way cautiously around the rink.  Nope, that would be me.

But I go with him, even though he can’t help support me.  Even though he can’t pick me up off the ice.   I go because I love the giggle that surfaces from him now and then.  I go because I love the way his tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth ever so slightly as he makes his way around he surface.  I go because I adore seeing his child like glee as he completes his way around without falling once.

Of course I also go because I love the conversation over a warm drink that always happens after he has completed his fun!

A side effect may be that I develop quasi-ice skating ankles!  But I’m not holding my breath on that, nor do I really care.  Because I can always move off the ice and just watch him when I have acquired enough bruises for the day! 😉