There are a lot of kids living in my neighborhood and my daughter being the social entity that she is knows most of them. She adapts quickly to new social situations. Recently she was promoted in English (she has been moved up a grade and into a special class for students who have English as their 2nd language). She loves her new class and is already comfortable with her new classmates, in fact she was the one who ultimately decided to accept the promotion (it was optional). She is always very excited for English, she also really likes swim class, woodworking, and math. She usually can’t wait to go to school but she has had some problems lately. She is friends with a brother and sister. The boy who will call Jacob is also in the 2nd grade. The girl who will call Destiny is a year older. She plays with them both regularly. Jacob is very loud and rowdy. Generally, they get on very well together but the other day during recess he hit her for no apparent reason other than he was having a bad day. According to my daughter he’d been angry all day, not at her, but just generally in a bad mood. She didn’t take it personally and quickly forgave him after he apologized. Despite what happened she still went to school the next day excited about one of her favorite classes. The very next day they were playing together again and he hit her this time giving her a bloody nose and again there didn’t seem to be any particular reason for the outburst. Destiny brought her home and hubbie decided to have a chat with the parents. When relaying the story to his parents Jacob attempted to put the blame on my daughter but Destiny quickly called him on the lie and came to her defense. I am not exactly sure what to do. Destiny has been a good friend and hasn’t done anything wrong so I want the girls to be able to get together but at the moment my daughter doesn’t really want to play with Jacob. I have said Destiny can come over and play without Jacob at our house but I do not know if that will exacerbate the problem since he is likely to feel left out. While I am certain my daughter will forgive him soon, I do not feel good about the whole thing. Hitting is not okay. We talk all the time about what it means to be a good friend. She didn’t hit him back according to the teacher or the girls who were present during the other altercation. She didn’t really respond the first time because he ran away directly after to avoid confrontation with the teacher. The 2nd time she said she didn’t want to hang out anymore because of the hitting. When he came by after the 2nd altercation to apologize she seemed a bit stressed and a bit forced in her friendliness. She left for school this morning again with no complaints though she did express anxiety last night that he might hit her again. I really hope that she has a good day, without any stress. I don’t want to mislead you into thinking my child is a perfect angel (she isn’t, she is very emotional, stubborn, and at times bossy) though in the recent incidents there is no evidence that she has been bullying or harassing him in anyway. She told me that Jacob has a hard time expressing his feelings with words, but that she does not think it is okay for him to take his frustrations out on her. At the moment she seems to be keeping things in perspective but I know she is feeling pretty anxious.
Generally speaking when people ask me about my day I cringe internally. I tend to be open with my feelings but for some reason talking about my day to day is a challenge. Since I have started therapy it has become increasingly important that I learn how to retrace my steps so to speak.
So here goes a boring day in the life of yours truly
6:00 am I woke up refreshed (no seriously I woke up in an unintelligible stupor tripping over imaginary tea kettles)
I post to my blog first thing after getting dressed drinking a full glass of water and taking my birth control pills 😛
Yoga for 30 minutes
Prepared breakfast for me and Isadora
I had two slices of herby bread with Italian cheese baked into the crust with a little bit of butter (I am not big on butter) and fat slices of seasoned tomato, an orange
Cleaned up after breakfast
Brushed my teeth (made sure Isadora brushed her teeth properly)
Then it’s on to the serious workout
I did this one today (full dying toward the end)
Then I had a shower and changed clothes
At some point in the morning I read some posts
Went to Stadium Outlet with everyone to get some socks for me and Isadora. Looked at bathing suits for her (I would never dare I hate shopping for bathing suits!) but they never have her size =(
Went to the grocery store (I might want to slow down lest you get overstimulated :-P)
Came home put on some laundry while Sam made (heated lunch) I get super hungry by 11 am like can’t even think hungry. I had some sort of tortellini with vegetables and a tomato sauce. A slice of apple cake for dessert yum
I think I did more email and more laundry
Weeded Isadora’s clothes
Took out the recyclables with Isadora’s help
I talked to my mom on Skye!
Did more laundry and more emails
Set up my prompt
Played some type of alphabet game with Isadora
Explained to Isadora that our ordinary fan is not sucking up all the cold air from outside and making it hot (she didn’t believe me)
Gave Isadora an early bath because she was out in the yard running around and was just really sweaty
Watched a live action with Sam
Wrote my poem for the day =)
Found out I have to get my ID renewed =( Is absolutely terrified!
Ate dinner Sam made tonkatsu which is like a Japanese breaded pork with a sauce, rice and peas (it was delicious)
I am technically on a diet admittedly it’s a vanity diet since I am not overweight just over my normal weight. I didn’t eat very healthy though did I lol Whenever I go on a diet Sam gets in the mood to cook. He is probably going to make a peach cobbler with ice cream tomorrow which I will eat to support him haha Whenever I go on a diet I notice he starts feeding me. Why are you measuring that rice, eat another bite, have some pie. I think he likes my curves. I never like to take full body photos because they get into weird hands. Like I asked a question on 4 chan about hair and someone posted a picture of me talking about my amazing boobs (their words not mine). I am too shy to be curvy.
And here are some old pictures of me and Sam. Look how cute he is its insane!
I do have a lazy eye but I am also looking at multiple things lol I used to have great skin! My hair is dyed in this.
For me the first step to accepting my new diagnosis is to own it. I’ve written a note to Facebook to inform my real life friends and my cousins of the new diagnosis. I have published a lengthy post here at Curious Flowers describing the ordeal, albeit ineptly, and linked it to my primary blog Mindlovemisery. I’ve even adjusted my about pages. I can’t imagine going through every post I’ve ever published and omitting the word Epilepsy nor can I feasibly contact all of my followers. I wrote my mom a long email as well describing the situation. I have no idea how she will take the news. I am not sure if she is familiar with PNES or the dissociative disorders. Actually I feel fairly certain she isn’t familiar with PNES but I have no idea about the latter.
I have even written an apology letter to Dr. G. Dr. S allowed us to read Dr. R’s notes and what he reported to Dr. G versus what he said to us (on numerous occasions) does not add up. Though I am not satisfied with many aspects of my care I felt it necessary to clarify the source of our misunderstandings now that I have discovered them and to apologize to her for my suspicion. I never fully trusted her because of my loyalty to Dr. R. I can admit that. I also wanted to give her the opportunity to clarify. I am still uncertain as to when she made the diagnosis of PNES if recently then it is perfectly understandable that I am only just hearing word of it myself. Even though she is no longer my doctor and thus I have no reason to see her again I still wanted to take responsibility. She has already emailed me thanking me for my letter and has informed me that she will contact me by telephone. Yikes I am so awkward on the telephone.
I guess that’s stage one complete now I need to study PNES!
For those who have known love only as entrapment you have not yet found real love.
My regular readers are likely familiar with my past, at least so much as I have disclosed. For those of you who are not familiar I was abused in different ways by both parents. I spent much of my early life hidden. I never confided in anyone and I believed myself responsible as children are so tragically inclined to do. When I met Sam and decided that he was the man I wanted to spend my life with I made the decision to tell him the truth about my past. The results were both terrifying and liberating. I had numbed myself to such an extent that I couldn’t feel physical pain. With confession came sensations that I had not known my body capable of experiencing. He didn’t blame me for what had happened and more than that he welcomed me into his heart. His acceptance has helped me forgive myself bit by precious bit.
Sam encourages me to pursue my dreams even if we don’t have the means to finance them, even if they are far-fetched and impractical. The first book I ever made, he sewed every single copy by hand. There have been times where I have blamed him for holding me back, when in truth it was I who had placed the limitations on myself. Each time I tie myself up in the knots of self-doubt and indecision he is there unraveling them. He challenges me, he forces me to look at myself honestly, and most of all he loves me, through success and through devastating failure. With him I have the courage to be myself unaltered and unadorned, the very self I spent my whole life demonizing.
Does he piss me off? Absolutely when I want to give up he’s there giving me the proverbial kick in the ass. When I just need a moment to recuperate he’s there for me whether it is a shoulder or solitude that I seek. I chose a partner who is my opposite, many find this type of friction unsettling but in truth I believe it essential to growth and yes passion. Do we fight? If fighting is discussing alternative viewpoints then yes we do. If fighting is raising our voices. Then sometimes, I raise my voice when I get excited. If I am talking about my book I practically scream with enthusiasm. As for raising our voices in anger sometimes but we don’t get into screaming matches or shout over one another. If fighting is exchanging blows verbal or otherwise then no we really don’t. Yes we offend each other on occasion being that we are different there are misunderstandings and hurt feelings and times when we take things too personally or in the wrong way but we don’t trash talk.
For me love is freedom. We have not grown into each other such that we must compete with each other for our very survival, we have grown alongside. We have our own personalities, we have dreams that overlap, and dreams that we hold as individuals. He brings me out of my shell he doesn’t stuff me kicking and screaming into another one.
I weave my nerves into the eye of Moirai
That I may know intimately the conditions
Underneath which we heedlessly suffer
I press my heart firmly against your palate
That my warmth might thaw your resignation
Please do not solicit me with indifference
Instead, let me lick the condensation
Of your hidden fires that you may carry me
Unholy in the base of your spine
Love is not hard to find so much as it is difficult to receive.
There exists within humans an impetus toward chrysalis. We want to escape pain even at the risk of anesthetizing our experience of life. Many of us do have opportunities to connect be it romantically and/or platonically but we simply choose to stay indoors with the blankets pulled over our heads. Many of us do in fact have worthwhile relationships of some sort already but our insecurities prevent us from recognizing the depth of the other person’s regard. When I am feeling particularly isolated/undesirable it is not because I am truly alone in this world, it is because I’ve refuse to let anyone inside for a visit.
As a shy person the number of people I approach is miniscule and yet for years I wondered how it was that I never met new people. Even when someone did approach me I often dismissed their conversations/invitations as social obligation and/or pity. This doubt has nothing whatsoever to do with my feelings for the individuals in question (in many instances I found them charming company), it has to do with my feelings for myself which are largely negative and entirely too invasive. Some people did persist despite my avoidant tactics but imagine how they felt? I spent so much time feeling sorry for myself that I never never even considered it.
Love is everywhere. People who have it, have it because they’ve put themselves on the line countless times. People who have it have been rejected countless times. The same goes for talent, people who have it have worked their assess off to obtain the skills in question. They’ve had the courage to fail and to succeed. They’ve pursued their dreams with every fiber of their being so never diminish that with dismissive comments about luck. While I do believe in luck, success will never come without risk or effort.
Genius and torment. All humans suffer of course but how many believe that the artist must suffer above and beyond to achieve a requisite depth? Why should pain be the superior muse? I have been thinking about this a lot lately. I lack emotional depth because I haven’t allowed much space for joy. Don’t get me wrong I have allowed space for gratitude. I am severely depressed but I still have my sense of wonder (possibly because I experience so much as new/mysterious). I cry when something is beautiful, I even laugh unabashedly. I have emotions.
I have a long way to go with self-acceptance though. I feel so completely unforgivably worthless. Now this is the part I can’t explain so bare with me. Sam had a job evaluation recently, all positive. His co-workers say he works like 6 people and he really does the man is an entire army. He still sees himself as worthless. He never feels good enough. How much more could one person do? Would he achieve more without the baggage? Would he enjoy himself more? I have trouble understanding what self-acceptance means. What precisely should I be accepting? What if I am doing something harmful? Should I not to try to change? Sam can’t explain it to me because he has the same issue. I can see the positive version of some of my flaws but then some traits I just want to be rid of entirely. I am sure those undesirable aspects contain lessons even if I can’t riddle them out.
Is it okay to get on Disability? Is that a cop out? Or is it the responsible thing to do while I work on my rehabilitation? For me the biggest thing missing is trust in myself but is it irresponsible to trust myself when my brain is the problem? This is where all my confusion comes from, this is where I get completely stupid. This is where intellect isn’t convincing enough to circumvent emotion. I have trouble seeing what has to change, what has to be accommodated, and what is actually keeping me as an individual together.
Do you have a reputation and what is it?
Being rather anti-social I can’t say that I have much of a reputation in the real world. I doubt that my name even features in conversation with any frequency. If people are talking about me I can’t even begin to imagine what they are saying! I can say that when Sam loses track of me in a store he asks people if they’ve seen a small woman with big hair and a dazed look on her face and that always produces accurate results.
According to my mother-in-law Sam and I are eccentrics. I imagine this to be a generally agreed upon observation. I think even my own mother would agree to it.
To my doctors I believe I am perceived as inarticulate, with a proclivity to hypochondria and anxiety. Whenever I meet with a doctor I get so nervous I either brush off my symptoms entirely (which negates my reason for even going) or I ramble on and on about who knows what.
To those I role-play (cowrite) with I make for one hell of a villain haha
To my bloggers I suppose the most frequent comments I receive are about my bravery and honesty. I’ve also gotten a lot of positive feedback on the prompt I host. I encourage but don’t limit creativity with excessive restrictions so they say. I believe at WordPress I have a good reputation but I would not be the least surprised if people found me a bit odd or gloomy. I am a bid odd and yes even a bit on the pessimistic side.
I think people consider me to be open-minded and trustworthy because people are very real with me. While I do run across overly polite and elusive types, more often than not, people reveal themselves to me in a very beautiful and unguarded way. Though I don’t get out much I do have some fabulous conversations with strangers and online friends =)
Olga Valeska self-portrait
For today’s challenge we were asked to share a post from our blogging community that we found inspiring. Oliana submitted her post to the “Tender Love” prompt. I host weekly prompts at Mindlovemisery and through that platform I’ve connected with many talented individuals. Whenever I try to compliment I always end up sounding like the creepy kid in the back of the class who has imaginary relationships with the popular kids so I will try not to get too carried away. Oliana’s post touched me very deeply and for me those feelings are difficult to relate in words. She has such a beautiful and generous spirit and the relationship she shares with her mother is just extraordinary. Reading her post I couldn’t help but think of my grandmother.
My grandmother was also Catholic. I was raised by my grandmother, at least partially. My mother worked multiple jobs just to make ends meet. As for my biological father he wasn’t much of a human being at all. When my mother left him and moved in with another man two hours away I begged her to let my grandmother move in with us. For those of you who are avid readers of Mindlovemisery you already know a little about my family dynamics. Mood disorders run in my family and my grandmother had a pretty severe case of something. On the one hand she was incredibly loving and devoted. She listened to my long narcissistic rambles without judgement or complaint. No matter what I did or failed to do she accepted me just the same.
Her rage was no secret to me, my stepdad and mother received the brunt of it. Sometimes she turned it on me as well but she was the only one who “got” me and I would have forgiven her most anything. She could go from joyful, to depressed, to incensed within the expanse of five minutes. She was hysterically funny and my friends loved her, they didn’t get to see the “evil” side. Growing up as I had, I assumed everyone had an evil side. I was a monster. We were all monsters. As my grandmother got older it became apparent that something wasn’t right, her bravado had made some of her crazy seem intentional. She started to see demons and angels. She was plagued by her past.
She had multiple versions of the past many of them conflicting. After my grandmother passed my mother looked up her only remaining family member, a niece hoping to gain some clarity. The moment my mom asked about our family history the woman began shrieking and wailing hysterically. At that point her husband got on the phone and apologized. He would only say that what little he knew of his wife’s past was too horrific to speak about. What happened to my grandmother? Was she a victim of unspeakable abuse? Was she a villain? I’ll never know.
My grandmother developed dementia and at long last she received a diagnosis and treatment for her mood disorder. Everything that had been good and pure about her came to the surface. The demonic voices went away. The rages and mood swings vanished entirely. With her past beyond recollection it seemed a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She was at peace. She never forgot the people closest to her. She never became unable to recognize us. The once strained relationship between my mother and grandmother healed. They developed a close and loving relationship, the kind that only I had ever been able to establish with her before, as I had been the only one in the family able to see through her illness. Reading Oliana’s post reminded me of the closeness I had with my grandmother and the beautiful relationship that developed between her and her own daughter in those final years.
Oliana’s post can be found here: