Out of the Blue

I've lost some things recently - my best friend, back in January; a beloved honorary niece, in February; the little dog who saved my life three years ago, in July. My friend died of complications from a brain tumor. My niece was tragically killed in a terrible accident that took three of her friends as well. My little dog, Oskar, died of cancer the week after my birthday. Maybe it doesn't seem as though Oskar should be listed with these other, huge losses, but the people who know me understand that being listed with my dog means I really, really love the people I mentioned. It has been a strange and terrible year. The recent rise in racial tensions, the troubling changes in our government, and the lack of leadership at the highest levels have combined to create a great deal of stress for most of us. The emotional pain of loss complicates that stress. That is why I have not written much in the past months; it takes most of my energy just to get through my days, work, and home....

It is February 13th. The stores are filled with roses, bouquets, beautiful boxes of candy and chocolates of every description; bakery windows are stuffed with heart-shaped cakes, cookies, and pink-frosted confections. Red streamers, glittering pink and red banners, teddy-bears, plushy bunnies and puppies, and even jewelry are prominently displayed everywhere I look. Valentine's Day is at hand, and here I am, single. Valentine's Day as we celebrate it today is a holiday for lovers. Sweethearts buy each other flowers, candy, and other gifts. They make plans, have dinner, or go away for the weekend. Couples get engaged on Valentine's Day. There is a coalition of singles, an unspoken cadre of the unattached, who are supposed to be anti-Valentine's Day. They make plans to pig out on pizza and bash the idea of love and relationships. My married, or coupled, friends are careful not to talk about their Valentine's plans when I'm around. They don't talk about the g...

I had a four day weekend for Labor Day, and being sick today turned it into a five day weekend. Last week was crazy busy at work and I really pushed myself to complete some tasks that were critical. I got home exhausted every evening, so my house was in terrible shape by Friday, and that was with my daughters helping clean after school each day. I was very tired when I got up on Friday morning, but I decided to clean house anyway. I've gotten a bit smarter about it, though - I clean for thirty minutes and then rest for thirty minutes. Or twenty minutes, or ten - the point is to balance activity with rest. So I made it through Friday pretty well and the house was clean by the end of the day. The girls went to their dad's that afternoon, and they each took their dog along, which left just me and Oskar, my shadow-weenie, at the house for three days. Talk about vacation! I was too tired to go out Friday evening, even though I had planned to go listen to some music with a friend. ...

For the past week, I've stayed at a ten on the pain-scale. Monday started out well - my knee felt good, the rest of me was fairly level. Things took a sharp nosedive with an extra dose of emotional distress on Tuesday morning, but I shook that off fairly quickly. It was just a confirmation of what I already suspected; that a person I had spent a lot of time loving had become someone I didn't know anymore. I didn't want to accept it, but denial only lasts so long. I've spent the past three months mourning the loss of that love and it is time to move on. So - I'm doing that; living life, focusing on being happy and getting well. Wednesday morning, I got up and tried to leash my dog to go for a walk, and I threw my back out. Immediate agony flared across the L5 region. I couldn't straighten up. So I did the bent-double duck-foot shuffle to the couch and pushed myself upright. SCREAMING pain. INCREDIBLE pain. Fortunately, my seventeen-year-old was home and she hel...

I am on vacation this week, and I guess it's perfect timing. I had a cortisone shot in my right knee on Friday of last week, and the prescription included rest, ice, compression, and elevation. At my last rheumatology appointment, I had an x-ray to diagnose the source of the pain and swelling. Back in May, I was walking and both heard and felt a pop on the inside of my knee. The x-ray couldn't pinpoint soft-tissue damage, of course, but did show considerable degeneration in the joint. So my doctor prescribed a cortisone injection and RICE. I've been doing that since Friday and have seen good improvement. There is still some pain, but nothing like the constant throbbing I felt before. I can walk without my cane. The knee pops occasionally but it isn't bad. It helps that I don't have much of anywhere to be. I'd have preferred a more active vacation, with some hiking, biking, and maybe kayaking. I'm still planning on the kayaking, but the other two will have ...

Below is a post from my other blog, Today's Wilderness Journey . I wrote it in September of 2012. I happened across it today after spending time with some very dear people. We talked about some deep subjects - pain, emotional distress, and suffering - which sent me backward through my memories and turned up this bit of writing. Because I have been struggling lately with my health, my life, and my love, this spoke powerfully to me. I admit it - I hate change. After my father died, I reverted to my native mode of being, which is co-dependency, clinging, and hoarding. Not hoarding in the usual sense. Hoarding time with people I love. Hoarding life. Hoarding myself, refusing to give of who I am. It has taken losing what I held most dear to make me remember that only in releasing what we love can we actually have it. Khalil Gibran said it eloquently: Love one another, but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup,...

Yesterday was beautiful. Blue sky. Warm sunshine. It was humid but not unbearable. My bones, joints, and muscles felt okay, so I got up and went hiking in the Cherokee National Forest, which is practically just out my front door. My love of the woods is something I got from my dad, and that's why I chose to go hiking yesterday to mark the day of his death. Also, I needed to be somewhere else, doing anything I could to keep from thinking about the loss. When I was around fifteen, my dad and I would go walking in the woods around our farm. He would tell me stories about where the brandy distillery used to be, relatives who used to farm the land, or take me to see old abandoned houses that were hidden in the forest. He knew everyone who had lived around there and could tell tales about all of them. One of the most difficult things about having RA is that it limits the amount of hiking I can do. There's nowhere I feel closer to my dad than when I'm in the woods. Since I...

I have been plumbing the depths of my soul looking for some words of motivation or of hope. All I come up with is flat, meaningless platitudes. I tell myself things will get better. I tell myself I will learn how to cope with this pain. I tell myself that things aren't as bad as they seem. I am such a bad liar. A few years ago at Lent, I gave up lying to myself. It has become a habit to be personally truthful and I think that for the most part, that's a good thing. But it leaves me unable to self-comfort. I can't tell myself little lies and believe them, the way I used to. But I can still live in denial. It is a comfortable blend of not examining where things are or admitting how desperate I feel. I don't have to lie to myself to do this, I just don't spend time in self-reflection. I avoid examining how I feel. I push myself into other things; mindless things, like marathons of The Walking Dead or Supernatural, or hours of mowing my lawn - using the riding ...