A quiet life.
-
Today started early and cloudy and humid and blah. John had a doctor's
appointment at 7:45 and we got up early and went to it. I was with him
because he ...
18 hours ago
Monday, May 20, 2013
DON'T PANIC
I watched part of the debate about the Marriage Equality Bill in Parliament today. A bill that might mean homosexual people are treated equally under the law. I am not naive enough to think it will change peoples bigotries. As I watched I listend to all sorts of reasons why I should not be treated as fully human, and why some people, like religious people, should be allowed to continue to treat me as sub human, how teachers woulds till be allowed to teach children that same sex love is wrong, that no registrars will be forced to marry homosexual people. The exclusions grew. I realised with mounting rage that this is not going to be a law making us equal in law at all. It is merely going to be window dressing, a appeasement. No such conscience clauses are given to racists, to those who oppose inter faith and inter race marriage, to those who think people of differing races are less than equal. It is not legal to bar blacks, irish, Gypsies etc from hotels because of conscience. But it is going to be allowed if the matter of conscience is against me and my kind. You know a woman recently wrote to me angry that i was upset with 'normal' [people for thinking this way. she has the nerve to still touch me at shows, as if I think well of her or am such a wimp I need her fucking approval.
I got so angry whilst watching and listening and then it hit me...I am HURT and I am tired. From the day i was born I knew I was not acceptable. My father made that very clear. Only I didn't know why until I was 16. Yes I finally realised that those evil people they kept on about was ME! I then spent far too many years believing I was the one at fault.
Not any more. No. Those who know me well know when the change happened.
I don't really know how I can ignore this. I don't know how I can continue to read and hear injustice and not react. Not just the injustice toward me and my brothers and sisters but toward others too. i juts read of a woman who lost her children, by order of a judge, because she wasn't going to bring them up fundamentalist!
I cannot live like this, enraged at the cruelty all around me. The mean spiritedness. The shit flung at me day in and day out. Seeing how people treat other people, how women are treated, how children, mostly children, are treated. the casual way people refer to immigrants as if they are not human, calling them names, blaming them for our lot.
It sickens me. It truly does. I do not know HOW people can be so cruel, can think so poorly. Even those I know and love are guilty of seeing people as disposable, as different, as to blame.
It frightens me. The atmosphere around now is how I understand it was like in 30's Germany. It led to the Holocaust. I imagined those MPs who spoke so eloquently and cruelly about me in Parliament today being no different to those who spoke the same way about those who were different back in Nazi Germany. i hear friends today call others 'filth' and it cuts like a blade and sends a chill through me because I know that come the crunch they will either too late see their error or they will turn their back.
I am totally at a loss. I think I have to immerse myself in fiction books, my knitting, my dyeing, my dogs, light films, comedies and push ti all out and away from me. But if I do that I fear i won't hear the jackboots as they stop at our door.
I lived in fear as a child with good reason. It was violent. I've spent my life trying to assuage that fear, to find somewhere safe. To feel safe. Physically removing myself from the childhood situation has not altered that fear one bit. I now know it wasn't just my family. Opening my eyes to them opened my eyes to rest of this world. There is no safety. No peace. People don't want that. They prefer to hate. I won't join the hate club. I am so glad today that i never fitted in.
One day that long sleep will come and perhaps safety too.
Sunday, May 05, 2013
MAX (socks)
MAX-my latest pair of socks. I always have a pair on the needles as they are so easily portable. They are far easier to take than an aran sweater for example. The yarn is an impulse buy I could not resist. A sock yarn by Wendy. It split rather easily but I still like the colourway and the handle.
I utilized my own Andersson Toe Up Method and the Andersson Heal Mach II.
I used 2.25mm circular needles, one for each sock, knitted simultaneously. The brand was Karbonz by Knit Pro. I find them a good needle though my favourite sock sized needles are still Chiao Goo.
I utilized my own Andersson Toe Up Method and the Andersson Heal Mach II.
I used 2.25mm circular needles, one for each sock, knitted simultaneously. The brand was Karbonz by Knit Pro. I find them a good needle though my favourite sock sized needles are still Chiao Goo.
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
LIVING WITH BI-POLAR
I frequently receive emails from people who read my blog telling me their stories and how much solace they get from what I write. I have recently had a couple that address the subject of bipolar disorder.
Most of the time I completely forget that I have bipolar disorder. I am quite certain I forget this because it suits me to.
I stopped taking medication for bipolar disorder about 10 years ago if not a little longer. One of the things that I hated about the medication was how flat it made me feel.
Most importantly having done the work I needed to do with regard to my life of abuse my mood swings became much less extreme. I say my life of abuse because to say that I was abused only as a child is not at all true. I consider my time spent in psych wards as abuse. Yes, the stories you hear about abusive staff are certainly true. Back in the 80s I was called to give evidence about one of the hospitals I was in and the questioning psychiatrist asked me why I said nothing at the time. I looked at him squarely in the eye and I said to him: I was locked up in a mental hospital. I was being abused by the staff in that hospital. Why do you think I did not complain? Honestly what a stupid question to have asked me!
I still have the mood swings. It is just that they are not very noticeable now. However in times of stress they do become much more volatile. Last year was a good example of this. With all the stress of the house remodelling and our wedding I started to become really quite hyper and then the Jimmy Savile affair hit the news and I crashed but I kept this all to myself and I did not go to my GP. My illness had really taken over at this point and I had become paranoid. I was frightened that if I said anything to her that I would be locked up again. In the end I had no choice but call a locum in the middle of the night. I knew of course that this would be reported to my GP although I was not conscious of the fact at that particular time. I realise now that I called the locum knowing full well that he would have to tell my GP and that was my way of letting her know that I was in trouble. As a result of this we had a very good conversation and she made me a solemn promise that she would never ever do anything without my consent and she also did not think that I needed such treatment anyway. She made me feel very much better by letting me know that I was not the only person so badly affected by the Jimmy Savile affair and she had also told me several times previously that the house alterations and our wedding were very stressful occasions for people in general not just to me but given my added complications she is surprised I handled it all so well.
I guess the whole point of this is to remind myself of how far I really have come but also to remind myself that it has not gone away completely and it is never likely to. Everything that I write about myself and my disease and how I have coped is purely personal and if it helps other people I am very glad. I have no intention of getting involved in the argument of whether this is a purely biological disease. I personally do not think it is or at least if it is, it does not mean that therapy cannot help it. I can only speak from my own experience which has seen a huge lessening of the bipolar effects as I came to terms with myself and my past.
Who knows what the future may hold. Considering just how stressful last year was, the bipolar affective disorder could have been very much stronger in reaction to all that stress. The fact that it was not I believe is down to be years of work I put in upon myself. However the way that it still presented itself and took hold of me is still frightening particularly the paranoia that I felt which kept me from seeking help or at least telling somebody.
I know that I am quite hard upon myself and yet when I write a post like this I amaze myself. I am truly astonished at the journey I have taken and if the feelings were not so clear I would find it hard to believe that the man writing this is the same man who went through all this. If I have a regret about my writing it's that I do not have talent enough to convey the sheer horror of it all so that people can really see what I used to be like compared to what I am like now. I so want to convey the message that healing is possible that no matter how bad the situation is it really can be bettered. Yes, there are a lot of battles to be fought along the way not least of which will be against loved ones and medicos who will wrongly feel that they know best. At least that was so in my case. I was very lucky that I always had John on my side and after his first experiences with the medicos in relation to my treatment he very quickly learned what I was up against and he supported me in searching out alternate avenues for my recovery.
These alternate avenues did involve a lot of new-age hokey pokey and treatments but I soon saw through those as well.
In the end the two things that really set me on the road to real recovery were this; reading books by a woman called Dorothy Rowe and finding a therapist who was a survivor of abuse himself and therefore knew what I was going through. He also never once told me there was something wrong with me and he never once diagnosed me. He never once let me down either. Even when I went into a full-blown mania as was likely to happen when I started to deal with the pain of sexual abuse. He did not leave my side. He kept his word.
Some of you will have read my comments regarding my memories and how I can't look back over my life and see anything other than blackness and pain. Perhaps the above goes some way to explaining what I mean.
The last seven years have truly been the best of my life. They have not been without their difficulties and as I have already described last year was challenging to say the least but the good of the last seven years far outweighs the bad. For the first time in my life I am able to look back over a period longer than a few weeks and say that it was good.
Most of the time I completely forget that I have bipolar disorder. I am quite certain I forget this because it suits me to.
I stopped taking medication for bipolar disorder about 10 years ago if not a little longer. One of the things that I hated about the medication was how flat it made me feel.
Most importantly having done the work I needed to do with regard to my life of abuse my mood swings became much less extreme. I say my life of abuse because to say that I was abused only as a child is not at all true. I consider my time spent in psych wards as abuse. Yes, the stories you hear about abusive staff are certainly true. Back in the 80s I was called to give evidence about one of the hospitals I was in and the questioning psychiatrist asked me why I said nothing at the time. I looked at him squarely in the eye and I said to him: I was locked up in a mental hospital. I was being abused by the staff in that hospital. Why do you think I did not complain? Honestly what a stupid question to have asked me!
I still have the mood swings. It is just that they are not very noticeable now. However in times of stress they do become much more volatile. Last year was a good example of this. With all the stress of the house remodelling and our wedding I started to become really quite hyper and then the Jimmy Savile affair hit the news and I crashed but I kept this all to myself and I did not go to my GP. My illness had really taken over at this point and I had become paranoid. I was frightened that if I said anything to her that I would be locked up again. In the end I had no choice but call a locum in the middle of the night. I knew of course that this would be reported to my GP although I was not conscious of the fact at that particular time. I realise now that I called the locum knowing full well that he would have to tell my GP and that was my way of letting her know that I was in trouble. As a result of this we had a very good conversation and she made me a solemn promise that she would never ever do anything without my consent and she also did not think that I needed such treatment anyway. She made me feel very much better by letting me know that I was not the only person so badly affected by the Jimmy Savile affair and she had also told me several times previously that the house alterations and our wedding were very stressful occasions for people in general not just to me but given my added complications she is surprised I handled it all so well.
I guess the whole point of this is to remind myself of how far I really have come but also to remind myself that it has not gone away completely and it is never likely to. Everything that I write about myself and my disease and how I have coped is purely personal and if it helps other people I am very glad. I have no intention of getting involved in the argument of whether this is a purely biological disease. I personally do not think it is or at least if it is, it does not mean that therapy cannot help it. I can only speak from my own experience which has seen a huge lessening of the bipolar effects as I came to terms with myself and my past.
Who knows what the future may hold. Considering just how stressful last year was, the bipolar affective disorder could have been very much stronger in reaction to all that stress. The fact that it was not I believe is down to be years of work I put in upon myself. However the way that it still presented itself and took hold of me is still frightening particularly the paranoia that I felt which kept me from seeking help or at least telling somebody.
I know that I am quite hard upon myself and yet when I write a post like this I amaze myself. I am truly astonished at the journey I have taken and if the feelings were not so clear I would find it hard to believe that the man writing this is the same man who went through all this. If I have a regret about my writing it's that I do not have talent enough to convey the sheer horror of it all so that people can really see what I used to be like compared to what I am like now. I so want to convey the message that healing is possible that no matter how bad the situation is it really can be bettered. Yes, there are a lot of battles to be fought along the way not least of which will be against loved ones and medicos who will wrongly feel that they know best. At least that was so in my case. I was very lucky that I always had John on my side and after his first experiences with the medicos in relation to my treatment he very quickly learned what I was up against and he supported me in searching out alternate avenues for my recovery.
These alternate avenues did involve a lot of new-age hokey pokey and treatments but I soon saw through those as well.
In the end the two things that really set me on the road to real recovery were this; reading books by a woman called Dorothy Rowe and finding a therapist who was a survivor of abuse himself and therefore knew what I was going through. He also never once told me there was something wrong with me and he never once diagnosed me. He never once let me down either. Even when I went into a full-blown mania as was likely to happen when I started to deal with the pain of sexual abuse. He did not leave my side. He kept his word.
Some of you will have read my comments regarding my memories and how I can't look back over my life and see anything other than blackness and pain. Perhaps the above goes some way to explaining what I mean.
The last seven years have truly been the best of my life. They have not been without their difficulties and as I have already described last year was challenging to say the least but the good of the last seven years far outweighs the bad. For the first time in my life I am able to look back over a period longer than a few weeks and say that it was good.
Monday, April 29, 2013
JOSH
Thursday, April 25, 2013
THESE ARE THE DAYS
Am knackered. Nothing doing today. Although in bed by 11:40pm, I was still awake at 2:45am due to leg pain which i finally medicated at about 2am. I had only been to dog club so was hardly on my feet very long and I was medicated well before I went. Anyway, was up at 8am as the youngsters still needed dealing with.
These episodes are frequent, nothing new, but still I cannot help but feel grateful that I can watch tv, listen to music and knit, so despite being prevented living a 'normal' life by my body, I am still having a good life.
Recently I have been thinking a lot about how life used to be. I know that when I was in my 20s I found occupy myself in a satisfactory way extremely difficult. I was very anxious to find a career and constantly fought for that despite my health. Gradually over the years my talents came to the fore and as I healed so my days became more and more fulfilling.
Whereas back in those days I found the day is far too long I now find the day is far too short!
I have written about fear recently. One of the comments suggested that one should not pick over the scabs of old wounds. Whilst I agree with this I do not think it is wise that we ignore feelings if they are persistent as my waking up in fear each day had become.
As is often the case just thinking about the fear and what could be causing it has brought me to the last few days of feeling much better.
I read a short piece the day before yesterday about forgiveness. I began to realise that much of what I had been thinking about my past was the lack of forgiveness of myself.
When ever I think back about how used to be I feel shame and embarrassment. I have realised that this could be different. I get upset when others don't understand that people behave in certain ways when they are disturbed and should not be judged. Yet here I doing exactly that with myself. I need to think of my past self with understanding and compassion instead of wanting to forget him because I feel so ashamed of him. I could not have been any different and it wasn't as if I wasn't trying the whole time but I was far more damaged than me or anybody else knew and I wasn't getting the help that I needed. It was not for want of me looking for help. I even cringe with embarrassment when I think of some of the things that I did in my quest for wellness.
My overwhelming memory is the sheer darkness of the pain that I was in for so many years. So why do I not give myself a break? Whilst I would not say I condemn my past self the mere fact that I feel shame about it tells me that I hold myself accountable and do not see myself as having been ill. For me the shame shows my lack of forgiveness and understanding.
I need to find within myself a different way of viewing and feeling my past. I would like to be able to view my life from a compassionate standpoint. Whilst I do not think that I need to go into details with anybody and certainly not here on my blog, I do think that I'm would like to be at the point where I can lay my past before myself and not feel shame and distain for myself.
Whilst I've would not call this a negative, I certainly did not expect that along with the happy state of affairs that is me today would come a crushing awareness of just how disturbed I used to be. It seems I am far more understanding and forgiving of others who do terrible things in their quest to free themselves from pain. Whilst I know that the desire to stop hurting was the impetus for everything I am not yet at that point that I can think of my behaviours and not feel shame. Even though I know that some of my extreme and distressing behaviours were the direct result of large doses of chlorpromazine I still remember the incidents as if I were in control and the person I am now instead of an extremely disturbed and abused person who was being abused even more with these drugs. Chlorpromazine and haloperidol are two of the most evil drugs. I really think that before people prescribed them they should take them themselves so that they have some understanding of the horrors they produce in those who take them. I know I am not the only one to be seriously affected by such drugs. There is even some evidence that my present neurological problems could be the result of these drugs. I still have to live with the memories of my behaviour whilst out of my mind on these drugs. Worse still was the total ignorance of the medical profession and therefore of the people around me, of the effects these drugs have. No one's in the medical profession seem to understand that the sudden serious worsening of my behaviour was brought on by the medication.
I think I may have to revisit this topic because I feel I cannot do so now. However I think my reluctance to take medication for my present disease is clearly understandable in light of the above.
Who would even think that self forgiveness is a concept, let alone a necessity. This does require more thinking about but for today I'm done.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
NO REGRETS
We were having a very difficult time with Fanny. She has to be the most stubborn dog I have ever owned. We sent her away to friends of ours who train dogs. I felt I really needed her to go away because she was having bad effects on Alexander.
It turns out that I did the right thing. She came back yesterday after 10 days away. Not only does she now sleep in her cage all night without barking but she eats in her closed crate as well. Alexander, who has always slept well in his crate, is now eating well too. all this week he had not as he had started to do what Fanny had done; not eat in his crate. Now that they are both together again they are both eating normally and sleeping normally. The only challenge still left is to train Fanny for the lead which she is still refusing, or at least is not completely happy with it yet.
As for me I have still been having trouble with fear. I spoke to John about it yesterday. I told him how I'd been feeling a lot of fear recently. I also told him how this is usually the prelude to a dark and terrible time of flashbacks with me coming out the other side and more "enlightened". This has been the result the last three times.
However after the last time when I finally realised that I had not been abused because of who I was but because of who they were I really thought that was enough. To be quite frank, I have had enough of this. I really do not want to go through any of that shit again. What can possibly be left that I have not felt or understood?
I think that this fear is more to do with the fact that my life is really good. As contrary as that seems, I have never been in this situation before. I do find it frightening. I am used to having to fight. I am used to having to swallow down fear. I'm used to the battle to survive. I have lived like that all of my life. It is now time to enjoy the fruits of my labour. I have earned this. I deserve this. And I am so very afraid that this will all be taken from me. Now I think that something terrible is going to happen to John or to myself.
I know that it is not logical. Yet the pattern of my life has always been one of loss. The constant moving. From one continent to the other, from one country to the other. Leaving behind a home that I knew, friends, pets. I stopped getting attached. In my mind I knew that I would lose these friends, these pets, this home. I remained detached.
I am no longer detached. Over the years that I have been with John, I occasionally had my love for him break through my barrier. I may have been putting food into the freezer, reading, bathing a dog, and all of a sudden I would feel this overwhelming love and it would terrify me. Well since my epiphany not only do I feel this all the time but I also feel it for my dogs, especially Whitney.
I understand that loss comes to us all. I also understand that we all die. It is ironic that I spent my whole life surviving only to discover that I will die anyway. The terror I felt as a child of dying by the hands of my father, or the paedophiles of whom I was a victim, has not left me. I will die anyway.
I have to find some way of integrating this so that I can enjoy all that I have. Whilst I understand that most people deal with this with denial, it seems that I cannot. I don't know that it is possible to go back into denial. I also feel very strongly that I want very much longer left because otherwise I feel that I will have fought all of my life to just get a few years of benefit.
I know that I have no control over time. That death will come when death comes. Like many people, I need to stop seeing death as punishment. This is what I was taught when I was a child through religion. What an evil thing to teach anyone let alone children. Death is not punishment it is what happens to our bodies and we cannot do anything about it.
And we cannot do anything about it. For a control freak that is really a problem. I have pretty much dealt with my control issues with regard to other people. Some of it is necessary, like doing what I can to organise my day and our trips so that the requirements of my disease are met. In other words I control as much of those as I can whilst accepting that there will always be stuff beyond my control.
I have no control over death. Yes, I can hasten my end, which I am likely to do in the event of a drawn out painful end. Other than that, just like everybody else, I have no control.
I therefore need to live my life joyously despite this knowledge. I don't know how to. The irony of all this, from what I understand of the literature on the effects of child abuse, is that had I had a secure upbringing I would be dealing with my own demise and that of my loved ones in a way that did not prevent me from enjoying my life. Instead, having been in constant fear throughout my childhood and witnessing the violent murder of my best friend, has left me with fear. About halfway through therapy it dawned on me that I would not survive, that no amount of coming to terms with my past, loving myself, was going to remove the fact that death would come.
I understand that death is something to be feared. Rather, the manner of death. And the uncertainty of it. What is not right is that my now is being so negatively affected by my fear of it.
Although it all boils down to this in the end it is also very much about my inability to enjoy the good life that I have claimed for myself. That I have fought so very long and hard for. It would be really sad if I did not find some way of truly enjoying all that I have now.
Perhaps, now that I have written, and through the course of writing come to understand what is behind the way I have been feeling recently, it will gradually begin to heal of its own accord. As always when I start to write I did not know what I was going to write about and so I am surprised as maybe you are.
I do want to make it clear though to my fellow survivors that regardless of where I am right now I have absolutely no regrets at all in going through the healing process that abuse survivors must go through. It is worth it. It is necessary. No matter how brief, feeling happiness and joy and peace is worth it. To have love and respect for oneself instead of loathing is worth it. No, I most certainly do not regret seeking healing in the way that I did. I do not regret being where I am right now. I also know that where I am right now is yet another effect that abuse has on people.
I think people in general, including we survivors, do not fully appreciate the enormity of the damage that child abuse inflicts upon the soul, or the psyche if you prefer, of the child. It is far more enormous, far more deep, and far more destructive than we imagine it to be.
It is not insurmountable. Seeking recovery is worth it. We are worth so much better than a life without recovery affords us. No, the seeking of healing, whilst lifelong, is worth it.
It turns out that I did the right thing. She came back yesterday after 10 days away. Not only does she now sleep in her cage all night without barking but she eats in her closed crate as well. Alexander, who has always slept well in his crate, is now eating well too. all this week he had not as he had started to do what Fanny had done; not eat in his crate. Now that they are both together again they are both eating normally and sleeping normally. The only challenge still left is to train Fanny for the lead which she is still refusing, or at least is not completely happy with it yet.
As for me I have still been having trouble with fear. I spoke to John about it yesterday. I told him how I'd been feeling a lot of fear recently. I also told him how this is usually the prelude to a dark and terrible time of flashbacks with me coming out the other side and more "enlightened". This has been the result the last three times.
However after the last time when I finally realised that I had not been abused because of who I was but because of who they were I really thought that was enough. To be quite frank, I have had enough of this. I really do not want to go through any of that shit again. What can possibly be left that I have not felt or understood?
I think that this fear is more to do with the fact that my life is really good. As contrary as that seems, I have never been in this situation before. I do find it frightening. I am used to having to fight. I am used to having to swallow down fear. I'm used to the battle to survive. I have lived like that all of my life. It is now time to enjoy the fruits of my labour. I have earned this. I deserve this. And I am so very afraid that this will all be taken from me. Now I think that something terrible is going to happen to John or to myself.
I know that it is not logical. Yet the pattern of my life has always been one of loss. The constant moving. From one continent to the other, from one country to the other. Leaving behind a home that I knew, friends, pets. I stopped getting attached. In my mind I knew that I would lose these friends, these pets, this home. I remained detached.
I am no longer detached. Over the years that I have been with John, I occasionally had my love for him break through my barrier. I may have been putting food into the freezer, reading, bathing a dog, and all of a sudden I would feel this overwhelming love and it would terrify me. Well since my epiphany not only do I feel this all the time but I also feel it for my dogs, especially Whitney.
I understand that loss comes to us all. I also understand that we all die. It is ironic that I spent my whole life surviving only to discover that I will die anyway. The terror I felt as a child of dying by the hands of my father, or the paedophiles of whom I was a victim, has not left me. I will die anyway.
I have to find some way of integrating this so that I can enjoy all that I have. Whilst I understand that most people deal with this with denial, it seems that I cannot. I don't know that it is possible to go back into denial. I also feel very strongly that I want very much longer left because otherwise I feel that I will have fought all of my life to just get a few years of benefit.
I know that I have no control over time. That death will come when death comes. Like many people, I need to stop seeing death as punishment. This is what I was taught when I was a child through religion. What an evil thing to teach anyone let alone children. Death is not punishment it is what happens to our bodies and we cannot do anything about it.
And we cannot do anything about it. For a control freak that is really a problem. I have pretty much dealt with my control issues with regard to other people. Some of it is necessary, like doing what I can to organise my day and our trips so that the requirements of my disease are met. In other words I control as much of those as I can whilst accepting that there will always be stuff beyond my control.
I have no control over death. Yes, I can hasten my end, which I am likely to do in the event of a drawn out painful end. Other than that, just like everybody else, I have no control.
I therefore need to live my life joyously despite this knowledge. I don't know how to. The irony of all this, from what I understand of the literature on the effects of child abuse, is that had I had a secure upbringing I would be dealing with my own demise and that of my loved ones in a way that did not prevent me from enjoying my life. Instead, having been in constant fear throughout my childhood and witnessing the violent murder of my best friend, has left me with fear. About halfway through therapy it dawned on me that I would not survive, that no amount of coming to terms with my past, loving myself, was going to remove the fact that death would come.
I understand that death is something to be feared. Rather, the manner of death. And the uncertainty of it. What is not right is that my now is being so negatively affected by my fear of it.
Although it all boils down to this in the end it is also very much about my inability to enjoy the good life that I have claimed for myself. That I have fought so very long and hard for. It would be really sad if I did not find some way of truly enjoying all that I have now.
Perhaps, now that I have written, and through the course of writing come to understand what is behind the way I have been feeling recently, it will gradually begin to heal of its own accord. As always when I start to write I did not know what I was going to write about and so I am surprised as maybe you are.
I do want to make it clear though to my fellow survivors that regardless of where I am right now I have absolutely no regrets at all in going through the healing process that abuse survivors must go through. It is worth it. It is necessary. No matter how brief, feeling happiness and joy and peace is worth it. To have love and respect for oneself instead of loathing is worth it. No, I most certainly do not regret seeking healing in the way that I did. I do not regret being where I am right now. I also know that where I am right now is yet another effect that abuse has on people.
I think people in general, including we survivors, do not fully appreciate the enormity of the damage that child abuse inflicts upon the soul, or the psyche if you prefer, of the child. It is far more enormous, far more deep, and far more destructive than we imagine it to be.
It is not insurmountable. Seeking recovery is worth it. We are worth so much better than a life without recovery affords us. No, the seeking of healing, whilst lifelong, is worth it.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
THE HABIT OF FEAR
I have woken up feeling afraid today. Not just a mild fleeting anxiety in my belly but actual fear. I have no idea why. I didn't sleep very well at all. I don't know what time I woke up but it was long before it was light and I lay there until it was time to get up at 6:30 to be ready to take John to the train station at 7:30.
I then had a common battle with myself: do I go swimming as planned or do I come home and go straight back to bed because I am very tired and I need to sleep. I decided on the latter, thinking that I can do a lunchtime swim. If I had gone swimming I would have ended up going to sleep this afternoon. That would have made matters worse.
I have said before that I think that I often wake up feeling fear because I did for so many years. Meaning throughout my whole childhood and into my 30s. It wasn't until I started therapy to deal with my childhood abuse issues that I began to wake up some days without fear.
I am almost too ashamed to even talk about this but I do think this might possibly have to do with why I keep feeling fear so much recently. Firstly, I do think that if one has felt a particular emotion all day every day year upon year upon year it becomes a habit even when the reason for the emotion has gone. However I do think that this fear is coming up again for a specific reason.
My life is going very well. The house is finally settled. I think we have both decided that we will never be uncluttered! We are financially secure. John's health is very manageable and so is mine. I have found a medication regime that works well for me now. I am doing well with my dogs and I am pleased with what I have bred. I am back doing my knitting. I will soon be back doing my dyeing also.
I am not used to things being good. I am very used to things not lasting and being taken away from me. I know that everything in life is temporary. When I was a boy though I experienced no security whatsoever. I did not feel loved and accepted or safe within my own family for good reason. On top of this we moved constantly and so I was constantly going through the grief of loss until I eventually just stopped feeling and getting close to people and animals. It was just far too painful to constantly have to say goodbye.
I have been thinking quite a lot about my past life recently and I don't know what I really should think about it. I don't really have any good memories. The only really good thing that happened was meeting John and then my therapist and the friends that I still have, all two of them. (I have since made more.) I remember clearly just how awful it all was and I remember particularly my own behaviour and how bad it was. All the self harming and compulsive behaviours and the harm that I caused other people albeit unwittingly. I cringe when I think of who I used to be. I do truly understand that I could not have been anybody else and that I really did try my hardest and I eventually made it and pulled myself out of the mire. However I am left with all these terrible memories and I don't really know what to do with them.
I had thought I was going to write about how my life is so good now that the rug is going to be pulled from under my feet and that is what I was afraid of. I didn't realise I was going to start talking yet again about my childhood and my past behaviours but I think I haven't thought about it from this angle before. If I stop and really think I can remember exciting times like when we first arrived in Singapore. That was a very exciting place to me with all the smells and sounds and different looking people but these memories are soon interrupted by the fact that this is where I was first sexually assaulted as far as I can recall and was also where my father nearly killed me for the first time. Everything I try and remember every nugget of good I try and pick out always has this bad stuff connected.
I love music and over the last few years I have collected lots and lots of new music and part of the reason for this is that my music collection is hard to listen to without it bringing up memories that are dark and painful.
I want time and plenty of time to enjoy what I now have. I want my body to last me long enough. Thus I do what I can to keep my disease from progressing too rapidly. I want long enough to be able to have years of good memories so that when I reminisce the dark stuff is a long way away.
You have to bear in mind that I did not start to live in colour as I describe it until the very end of 2007 when I had my epiphany. I'm not going to describe this again but it came at the end of the most painful period. I will never forget it as long as I live and the dramatic change in me is still with me. I became the Colin I was always meant to be. And truly the best way to describe it is that I went from living in monochrome to living in Technicolor.
I don't feel as afraid as when I started to write but I'm not sure that any of what I've written is the reason for the fear. I think probably fear can be habit as well as of course my own thinking which is often worrying about John now getting really sick and dying on me or me getting really sick. I have even become acutely aware of how short the lives of my dogs are.
I then had a common battle with myself: do I go swimming as planned or do I come home and go straight back to bed because I am very tired and I need to sleep. I decided on the latter, thinking that I can do a lunchtime swim. If I had gone swimming I would have ended up going to sleep this afternoon. That would have made matters worse.
I have said before that I think that I often wake up feeling fear because I did for so many years. Meaning throughout my whole childhood and into my 30s. It wasn't until I started therapy to deal with my childhood abuse issues that I began to wake up some days without fear.
I am almost too ashamed to even talk about this but I do think this might possibly have to do with why I keep feeling fear so much recently. Firstly, I do think that if one has felt a particular emotion all day every day year upon year upon year it becomes a habit even when the reason for the emotion has gone. However I do think that this fear is coming up again for a specific reason.
My life is going very well. The house is finally settled. I think we have both decided that we will never be uncluttered! We are financially secure. John's health is very manageable and so is mine. I have found a medication regime that works well for me now. I am doing well with my dogs and I am pleased with what I have bred. I am back doing my knitting. I will soon be back doing my dyeing also.
I am not used to things being good. I am very used to things not lasting and being taken away from me. I know that everything in life is temporary. When I was a boy though I experienced no security whatsoever. I did not feel loved and accepted or safe within my own family for good reason. On top of this we moved constantly and so I was constantly going through the grief of loss until I eventually just stopped feeling and getting close to people and animals. It was just far too painful to constantly have to say goodbye.
I have been thinking quite a lot about my past life recently and I don't know what I really should think about it. I don't really have any good memories. The only really good thing that happened was meeting John and then my therapist and the friends that I still have, all two of them. (I have since made more.) I remember clearly just how awful it all was and I remember particularly my own behaviour and how bad it was. All the self harming and compulsive behaviours and the harm that I caused other people albeit unwittingly. I cringe when I think of who I used to be. I do truly understand that I could not have been anybody else and that I really did try my hardest and I eventually made it and pulled myself out of the mire. However I am left with all these terrible memories and I don't really know what to do with them.
I had thought I was going to write about how my life is so good now that the rug is going to be pulled from under my feet and that is what I was afraid of. I didn't realise I was going to start talking yet again about my childhood and my past behaviours but I think I haven't thought about it from this angle before. If I stop and really think I can remember exciting times like when we first arrived in Singapore. That was a very exciting place to me with all the smells and sounds and different looking people but these memories are soon interrupted by the fact that this is where I was first sexually assaulted as far as I can recall and was also where my father nearly killed me for the first time. Everything I try and remember every nugget of good I try and pick out always has this bad stuff connected.
I love music and over the last few years I have collected lots and lots of new music and part of the reason for this is that my music collection is hard to listen to without it bringing up memories that are dark and painful.
I want time and plenty of time to enjoy what I now have. I want my body to last me long enough. Thus I do what I can to keep my disease from progressing too rapidly. I want long enough to be able to have years of good memories so that when I reminisce the dark stuff is a long way away.
You have to bear in mind that I did not start to live in colour as I describe it until the very end of 2007 when I had my epiphany. I'm not going to describe this again but it came at the end of the most painful period. I will never forget it as long as I live and the dramatic change in me is still with me. I became the Colin I was always meant to be. And truly the best way to describe it is that I went from living in monochrome to living in Technicolor.
I don't feel as afraid as when I started to write but I'm not sure that any of what I've written is the reason for the fear. I think probably fear can be habit as well as of course my own thinking which is often worrying about John now getting really sick and dying on me or me getting really sick. I have even become acutely aware of how short the lives of my dogs are.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Monday, April 08, 2013
PALE MINT CASHMERE
It is 2 ends of 2/28 mongolian cashmere. That is about 700m/100g, The sweater weighs 406g. I gave it my usual treatment of washing and tumble drying three times. This sweater will now always be able to be washed on the 30c hand cycle and tumble on hot for 45mins without further shrinking. I have done my cashmere sweaters like this for 30 years yet I still not considered to know what I am doing according to some! yes, i have allowed someone to irk me. They wrote on a knitting list I belonged to that I was stupid and ignorant. It wasn't so much the email that bothered me but that NO ONE said anything in defence of me. I said nothing and I left the list soon after but telling the owner what i thought of the appalling treatment I got. There was more to it than this. Like they engaged the writer as if he were the expert and ignored me.Then an innocuous email from me, on another subject entirely, was edited! I realised I wasn't respected at all. It was enough for me that one person was outwardly homophobic toward me and that my wedding was ignored but this email was the final straw. As if I needed another hint that I wasn't welcome. I am annoyed with myself for not having got the message sooner and for feeling rankled by it all in the first place. I don't want to know people like this.
Sunday, April 07, 2013
RELIGION HURTS
Fanny and Alexander are proving to be a challenge. I am having problems getting them to eat in their crates. I feed all of our dogs in their crates. This stops any fighting, it makes sure each gets their quota, and it alerts me very quickly to any dog that might be sick. These two puppies are unlike any I have had before.
I am not having a good day because I fucked up last night. We went out to dinner for John's 66th birthday, which is tomorrow. I didn't take my knitting with me. I forgot. Well, I didn't know what to do with my hands whilst waiting for food. If I am knitting, I can converse easily. Not last night. I felt lost without my knitting. Normally, I do not find it a problem waiting for John to finish his pudding because I am knitting and talking or just knitting. Last night I joined him in having pudding. I awoke this morning with my joints on fire, my gut hurting. Now I remember why I don't eat that stuff! How many times do I need reminding? So today I feel sorry for myself yet I know it is my own damn fault. It will be three days before I feel okay again. So I ought to awake on Wednesday feeling different. i was going to say well but of course I won't be well. It is hard to explain what i mean and why today is worse than the usual pain and gut problems. It just is. I cannot give a good explanation except that just because I have this disease, which can can vary from crap to really bad, doesn't mean my allergy to wheat will not make it worse!
Normally if I have a ding ding with someone on the 'net it is nothing worse that me feeling angry for a while and forgetting all about it. Recently though something happened which has left me feeling hurt. I still find it hard to believe that this person wrote what they did. I was angry about the fact that a virulent anti-gay Roman Catholic priest was found to be gay himself. I wrote about it on Facebook and I also said that i found it difficult to understand how people can still be putting money in the collection plate at RC churches when they know that the money is being used to hound abuse survivors, to deny them, through the RC Church employing lawyers to silence the victims.
Unknown to me, a friend was RC and attends church. Okay, so I can understand her having a negative response to what I wrote. That is fair enough. However, what she wrote was 'now I hang my head for I feel sad that you hate me for loving God'. To say I was shocked and hurt is understatement. Nothing I wrote would even suggest such a thing. I also don't know how this person, a friendship with whom I have had for years, could not know I am not atheist, just not religious. My own spirituality is the most important thing in my life. Even as I write this, I still feel shocked by this sentence. I can't believe she wrote it. Yet she did. And has refused to discuss it since. No communication at all. It does show me though that people DO put ideology before people and their feelings. I guess my comment hit a nerve. I would never have chosen to hurt this lady, not ever, I am shocked she had no such qualms with regard to me. This is the problem with religion. It makes people behave in shocking ways because they put defending their ideas about God before any other consideration. This is how the religious can kill and maim and feel justified.
I hate no-one and I never have. I hate some ideas which I think are harmful. For this woman to suggest I hate her, especially for 'loving God' is just vile.
I have been knitting a lot recently and I feel much better for it. I have a very strong need to create. I feel good when I am creating. I have finished a cashmere sweater for myself, almost finished a wool sweater using the garter carriage on the Brother 940. I have almost finished the back piece of Johns Aran sweater, am half way thru a pair of socks, half way thru the back and front, knitted in the round, of my alpaca sweater.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
IT IS NOT FAIR!!! (SOMETIMES)
I am not always accepting and stoic with regard to my disease as I am sure the intelligent amongst real will have realised. I am just not a moaner, at least not always!
In truth I spend a lot of time battling against my disease and not accepting its limitations. It is not always easy to know when it is right to push myself and when it is not pushing myself but lack of acceptance.
I swim. I love to swim. In the water I am free. I am not completely pain free but I am very mobile, I swim very well, and I just love it. I force myself to swim even when I do not feel like it. This is the good kind of tenacity because swimming is good for my body and my disease. It keeps me mobile, keeps my weight down, list my mood, and probably delays the progression of my disease.
There are other times when my battle is pointless. It is me refusing to accept that I cannot do something and thus causing myself more grief in the process.
Today I was meant to be going to a breed club open show. I was all packed and ready to go. The two dogs I was taking were bathed.
However, I was still awake 1 o'clock. I was awake at 3 o'clock. My gut was not good and twice I had to go to the bathroom. By the time the alarm went off at 6 AM, which was really 5 AM as far as my body was concerned as our clocks went forward last night, I had just under three hours sleep and that was fitful and not deep. I still insisted that I would attend the show. I left. Common sense ruled and I turned round and came back home and went back to bed feeling very sorry for myself.
I am very disappointed that I was unable to attend. I am particularly upset because I really wanted to support the young man whose first breed club appointment this was. I believe this man has talent for judging as is evidenced by the fact that so many of his winners at open shows have gone on to be placed in the puppy and adult groups at the same shows.
It is times like this when I know that the only sensible thing for me to do is accept that my disease will not allow me to do something.
Had today just been an ordinary show I don't think I would've got into such a tiz about it but I had agreed to support the judge and I felt really bad for not fulfilling that. I have to say that at the time I made the agreement I did not know that the show was three hours away from me and even when I did find out I pretended it would not matter. It would not have mattered had I had my sleeping drugs.
It still amazes me that there are people that consider me able bodied just because I am not paralysed! Never mind what I have described above in the way of preparing to just go to a bloody dog show that I have left out the difficulty in getting dressed and the inordinate amount of time it takes! No, no able-bodied person goes through this just to appear normal! (I was about to say how many people do you know who put an overcoat on over their pyjamas to go to the supermarket because they cannot get dressed that day and then I remembered all those photographs I get sent via email about Walmart shoppers!)
Only yesterday I was talking with a friend about driving to Poland because I would like to visit Warsaw. I was talking as if I was perfectly able to do this. The days of me being able to drive long distances like that are over. Yet every year I still make plans to drive to cities over 1000 miles away only to petulantly accept that I am unable to drive that far. Oh, I can drive that far but in three days not overnight like I used to. So it would take me three days to drive there, I would need at least five days there the first two of which would be recovery days, and then I would need another three days at least to drive back. This is unreasonable and although I am not happy I accept that this is unreasonable and so I do not do it.
The most obvious thing that people say to me is well why don't you fly. The simple reason being I have to take far too much stuff with me including my electric wheelchair that flying is completely impractical.
Normally I take sleeping pills the night before the show. the sleeping pills are not kept in the house, John keeps them in London. No not because he is afraid I will overdose on them. I asked him to keep them for me because it would be too easy for me to take them when I'm having difficult nights which are frequent. My dog shows are extremely important to me and without sleeping pills I would not be able to go to them. To me therefore it is imperative that I only use them for that purpose. It is too tempting to have them at my fingertips. they used to sit in my drugs draw And I only ever used them for dog shows. However, as my disease has progressed and painful disturbed nights have become much more frequent, I found I went to my drawer and got my pills even when I had no dog show the following day. I knew then that I had to not have my drugs at home.
In truth I spend a lot of time battling against my disease and not accepting its limitations. It is not always easy to know when it is right to push myself and when it is not pushing myself but lack of acceptance.
I swim. I love to swim. In the water I am free. I am not completely pain free but I am very mobile, I swim very well, and I just love it. I force myself to swim even when I do not feel like it. This is the good kind of tenacity because swimming is good for my body and my disease. It keeps me mobile, keeps my weight down, list my mood, and probably delays the progression of my disease.
There are other times when my battle is pointless. It is me refusing to accept that I cannot do something and thus causing myself more grief in the process.
Today I was meant to be going to a breed club open show. I was all packed and ready to go. The two dogs I was taking were bathed.
However, I was still awake 1 o'clock. I was awake at 3 o'clock. My gut was not good and twice I had to go to the bathroom. By the time the alarm went off at 6 AM, which was really 5 AM as far as my body was concerned as our clocks went forward last night, I had just under three hours sleep and that was fitful and not deep. I still insisted that I would attend the show. I left. Common sense ruled and I turned round and came back home and went back to bed feeling very sorry for myself.
I am very disappointed that I was unable to attend. I am particularly upset because I really wanted to support the young man whose first breed club appointment this was. I believe this man has talent for judging as is evidenced by the fact that so many of his winners at open shows have gone on to be placed in the puppy and adult groups at the same shows.
It is times like this when I know that the only sensible thing for me to do is accept that my disease will not allow me to do something.
Had today just been an ordinary show I don't think I would've got into such a tiz about it but I had agreed to support the judge and I felt really bad for not fulfilling that. I have to say that at the time I made the agreement I did not know that the show was three hours away from me and even when I did find out I pretended it would not matter. It would not have mattered had I had my sleeping drugs.
It still amazes me that there are people that consider me able bodied just because I am not paralysed! Never mind what I have described above in the way of preparing to just go to a bloody dog show that I have left out the difficulty in getting dressed and the inordinate amount of time it takes! No, no able-bodied person goes through this just to appear normal! (I was about to say how many people do you know who put an overcoat on over their pyjamas to go to the supermarket because they cannot get dressed that day and then I remembered all those photographs I get sent via email about Walmart shoppers!)
Only yesterday I was talking with a friend about driving to Poland because I would like to visit Warsaw. I was talking as if I was perfectly able to do this. The days of me being able to drive long distances like that are over. Yet every year I still make plans to drive to cities over 1000 miles away only to petulantly accept that I am unable to drive that far. Oh, I can drive that far but in three days not overnight like I used to. So it would take me three days to drive there, I would need at least five days there the first two of which would be recovery days, and then I would need another three days at least to drive back. This is unreasonable and although I am not happy I accept that this is unreasonable and so I do not do it.
The most obvious thing that people say to me is well why don't you fly. The simple reason being I have to take far too much stuff with me including my electric wheelchair that flying is completely impractical.
Normally I take sleeping pills the night before the show. the sleeping pills are not kept in the house, John keeps them in London. No not because he is afraid I will overdose on them. I asked him to keep them for me because it would be too easy for me to take them when I'm having difficult nights which are frequent. My dog shows are extremely important to me and without sleeping pills I would not be able to go to them. To me therefore it is imperative that I only use them for that purpose. It is too tempting to have them at my fingertips. they used to sit in my drugs draw And I only ever used them for dog shows. However, as my disease has progressed and painful disturbed nights have become much more frequent, I found I went to my drawer and got my pills even when I had no dog show the following day. I knew then that I had to not have my drugs at home.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
KNITTING PROOF
I am pretty sick at the moment and have been since Cruft's back on the 8th. I expected to feel really bad the two days after the show but that feeling didn't lift and I gradually got worse and worse until finally I developed a fever (tho now I think I had one a lot sooner than i realised) and difficulty breathing. I had been taking more and more pain killers because my joints were on fire and I was hurting much more. Anyway, I finally went to the Dr today and I had a temp of 38c and a chest infection for which I now have anti-biotics. I should have gone last week of course but didn't want to make a fuss!
Thursday, March 14, 2013
NO END POINT
I thought I was okay when I woke up, having slept well. As the hours have passed, I have become aware that I don't feel okay at all. I feel afraid today. What of I am not sure. The future? How my disease is progressing?
The last few weeks have been emotionally charged. The build up to Cruft's which I dreaded attending and then really enjoyed. Mary-Grace did very well too. The recovery from it. Trying to make peace within myself with regard to someone who hurt me deeply. Not sure I can. Yet I hate discord with people. If I were not going to see them again it wouldn't matter I suppose but I am likely to and it is preferable for me that I feel okay about it. I made a move in that direction which seems to have had a positive result but I find my feelings toward them are not resolved. In time they will be. There is a part of me that doesn't want to give the impression I have forgotten and all is well. There will never be trust there. It isn't about dislike or ill feeling. It's about trust. I don't trust them and never will. Can I live with that and still be friendly?
We are still in the process of getting the house sorted out. I think we have come to accept that we will never be clutter free. Given that, there is still stuff to be done. A tonne of rubbish to be removed to the tip. This is when I get frustrated. I can't do any of this on my own. It only gets done during the four days John is here and there is a limit to what he can manage too.
I still struggle with misplaced guilt. Feeling guilty that we are in such a fortunate position now. Enjoying what we have and our financial freedom. The difference is that I know it is misplaced or more to the point, is unnecessary as misplaced suggests I should be feeling guilty about something else. I was brought up to feel guilty. I was programmed, deliberately, to feel guilty. I have come a long long way from those dark days but as I have written and said a hundred times, more probably, the remnants of those days still haunt one. There is no 100% recovery. There is so end point, no destination, only a progression, a growing toward, no arrival. If I think about that, it is really obvious. An end point? A time when growth stops? No more learning? That sounds like stagnation to me. Death even.
Perhaps I can grow beyond feeling guilt and shame when I am in a dip and just accept it is part of life, part of our learning, part of the process of knowing. I have more or less stopped feeling guilt and shame with regard to my physical problems. Juts the mere fact of being in pain made me feel ashamed and thus I went untreated and unknowing for so many years. Even since my diagnosis back in '04, and my accepting pain medication in 07, I have had strong feelings of both not just about the pain itself about the medications. Guilt because I must have done something to cause this and guilt over using drugs to help me. Shame for being weak and not good enough to overcome this myself. (Guilt is about what we do and shame is about who we are.)
My stomach has settled somewhat since I started to write. I never know what I shall write until I start to write. I note how frequently I express fear, guilt and shame. This is not surprising. All abuse survivors will know these feelings intimately. A moment here to explain that there was a time I did not know these feelings because i had locked them all away. When people spoke to me about them, I had no idea what they meant. In self help groups people would talk about their feelings. Some would show their feelings and I would be horrified and feel such a fraud because I did not feel like that. in fact there were those who indeed thought I was a fraud too because I did not share these feelings. What I did not know, and what these people did not know, was that I was numb. I was so terrified of my feelings, of experiencing what had been done to me, I had disassociated completely. Thus I was able to relate a horror that had been done to me with no emotion. this is the danger of self help groups. there will always be people in them who think they 'know' and they are a danger to the weak and vulnerable, like me. Inevitably they come across someone like me and I am outside their 'knowing' so they dismiss those like me as frauds or 'too sick to help'. I guess this attitude is part of their damage too. I only know that for me, it heaped more damaged upon me and had me barking up the wrong tree for the recovery I was so desperate to achieve.
I received the best compliment I could have received recently. My long time friend, longer even than John, said to me that she did not know anyone, not one person, who had wanted recovery more than i did, who had fought for it harder than I did, and who had succeeded as much as I have. See, she knew me back when I was 20. She has also known many many damaged people throughout her life and so I took her words as the compliment they are. I often wish I wish I could show those who read me, who are still struggling deeply, the frightened very damaged boy i sued to be. i cannot do that. I can only share with you my life today and my memories and my thoughts and I hope I do it honestly enough that it gives hope.
The last few weeks have been emotionally charged. The build up to Cruft's which I dreaded attending and then really enjoyed. Mary-Grace did very well too. The recovery from it. Trying to make peace within myself with regard to someone who hurt me deeply. Not sure I can. Yet I hate discord with people. If I were not going to see them again it wouldn't matter I suppose but I am likely to and it is preferable for me that I feel okay about it. I made a move in that direction which seems to have had a positive result but I find my feelings toward them are not resolved. In time they will be. There is a part of me that doesn't want to give the impression I have forgotten and all is well. There will never be trust there. It isn't about dislike or ill feeling. It's about trust. I don't trust them and never will. Can I live with that and still be friendly?
We are still in the process of getting the house sorted out. I think we have come to accept that we will never be clutter free. Given that, there is still stuff to be done. A tonne of rubbish to be removed to the tip. This is when I get frustrated. I can't do any of this on my own. It only gets done during the four days John is here and there is a limit to what he can manage too.
I still struggle with misplaced guilt. Feeling guilty that we are in such a fortunate position now. Enjoying what we have and our financial freedom. The difference is that I know it is misplaced or more to the point, is unnecessary as misplaced suggests I should be feeling guilty about something else. I was brought up to feel guilty. I was programmed, deliberately, to feel guilty. I have come a long long way from those dark days but as I have written and said a hundred times, more probably, the remnants of those days still haunt one. There is no 100% recovery. There is so end point, no destination, only a progression, a growing toward, no arrival. If I think about that, it is really obvious. An end point? A time when growth stops? No more learning? That sounds like stagnation to me. Death even.
Perhaps I can grow beyond feeling guilt and shame when I am in a dip and just accept it is part of life, part of our learning, part of the process of knowing. I have more or less stopped feeling guilt and shame with regard to my physical problems. Juts the mere fact of being in pain made me feel ashamed and thus I went untreated and unknowing for so many years. Even since my diagnosis back in '04, and my accepting pain medication in 07, I have had strong feelings of both not just about the pain itself about the medications. Guilt because I must have done something to cause this and guilt over using drugs to help me. Shame for being weak and not good enough to overcome this myself. (Guilt is about what we do and shame is about who we are.)
My stomach has settled somewhat since I started to write. I never know what I shall write until I start to write. I note how frequently I express fear, guilt and shame. This is not surprising. All abuse survivors will know these feelings intimately. A moment here to explain that there was a time I did not know these feelings because i had locked them all away. When people spoke to me about them, I had no idea what they meant. In self help groups people would talk about their feelings. Some would show their feelings and I would be horrified and feel such a fraud because I did not feel like that. in fact there were those who indeed thought I was a fraud too because I did not share these feelings. What I did not know, and what these people did not know, was that I was numb. I was so terrified of my feelings, of experiencing what had been done to me, I had disassociated completely. Thus I was able to relate a horror that had been done to me with no emotion. this is the danger of self help groups. there will always be people in them who think they 'know' and they are a danger to the weak and vulnerable, like me. Inevitably they come across someone like me and I am outside their 'knowing' so they dismiss those like me as frauds or 'too sick to help'. I guess this attitude is part of their damage too. I only know that for me, it heaped more damaged upon me and had me barking up the wrong tree for the recovery I was so desperate to achieve.
I received the best compliment I could have received recently. My long time friend, longer even than John, said to me that she did not know anyone, not one person, who had wanted recovery more than i did, who had fought for it harder than I did, and who had succeeded as much as I have. See, she knew me back when I was 20. She has also known many many damaged people throughout her life and so I took her words as the compliment they are. I often wish I wish I could show those who read me, who are still struggling deeply, the frightened very damaged boy i sued to be. i cannot do that. I can only share with you my life today and my memories and my thoughts and I hope I do it honestly enough that it gives hope.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
ENDING THE WIND PROBLEM
We have just spent 90 minutes watching a woman called Jeanne Robertson, a 'humourist' from North carolina. She was very funny. Gentle humour without any rude bits at all. I love the accent. I have no problem with rude humour but I really like this woman too.
I am knackered. I am off to bed. I had a good physio session today. I was a good boy and didn't just swim, I did what the hospital told me to do and did these weird exercises involving my legs and groin which when I was first shown I thought to myself 'are they taking the piss or what? These are really easy. I not a cripple for goodness sake (well actually it was for f*cks sake).' It turns out they knew what they were talking about after all which i suppose since they have medical degrees and I have no education past 15 is not too surprising. These exercises are bloody hard to do and thank goodness I get to do them in the water and not on land cos if they were on land, i'd fall over on the concrete and that would really not be good. Quick thinking, Batman. I suppose a medical degree is useful after all. I have no idea if the physio works or not but it hurts. That either means it is working or that they don't like me.
Well, early in the morning a man is coming around to fill my hole. I have been meaning to have it filled ever since we moved in here, 14 years ago. Now finally, I found the right man to do it. I had asked Ernie the builder but I guess Ernie the builder didn't care very much for filling my hole as he never did get around to doing it. Well, it has to be done because on windy days the wind comes right through and it is really noisy. It can be quite scary and even the dogs move away from it and turn and stare at it. So finally, my hole is being filled and this should not just stop the wind problem but also prevent the heat escaping too. The coal and then the natural gas fire that used to fill my hole is no longer there, hence the hole. It really isn't necessary for it to be there and when I think about it, 14 years with it unfilled is just,well, unthinkably unthinkable. So tomorrow a man named Howard is going to fill it and we shall leave him to do it in private because of the next paragraph.
I feel like going out tomorrow so we shall. We will our usual exciting trip to John Lewis where the staff know us so well it's a wonder they haven't stuck 'sale' stickers on us. As odd as it may seem, i find it de-stressing to just wheel around the mall and looking at stuff. i look at stuff I am never going to buy. I am always taken aback, every time, at just how big some bras are. Blimey! I had no idea boobs came in that size. I see some very nice hand bags which I ponder upon but decide I like my balls and I really am not going to get rid of them just because I love that orange hand-bag. Women are so lucky with the variety of stuff they
can wear.
I am trying to persuade Joh to have swap our 40" for a 46". I have told him that now we have an electric bed, we can have the 40" on the wall opposite the bed. We can watch DVDs in bed and be situated just right to do so. You see, we replaced a very expensive Blu-Ray player for another very expensive Blu-Ray player (both 3D too). We have one very expensive BD player under the settee. I have told him that really is a waste of a very expensive BD player and wouldn't it make more sense to buy another very expensive tv, this 46" one, to put on the wall in the lounge and move the 40" one that is presently there, upstairs to the bedroom where we can then use to watch the very expensive BD player that is going to waste under the settee? Doesn't that make sense to you? It does to me.
Saturday, March 09, 2013
PUTTING ON MY FACE
I went to Crufts yesterday. On the Wednesday I was absolutely dreading going and I really thought that I might not. I just could not face the idea of having to put on the show persona that I do in order to make the shows doable.
Yet after my swim on Thursday morning I came home and within about 10 minutes I had come up with my outfit for the show. This enabled me to contemplate actually attending.
I showed Mary-Grace. It was a very difficult decision even to enter Crufts in the first place. If I did not enter I would have hurt a dear friend and I would have given in to the nasty aspect of the dog came. Yet by entering, if Mary Grace did well, then this nasty element would be thrilled to bits to have something they can bitch about and make themselves feel happier by putting both me and the judge down.
When Mary-Grace one limit bitch I was completely shocked. In fact I did not realise that I had one I thought that the judge had just picked out the first cut. It was the steward who told me that Mary Grace had been placed first. So if you were at the show and you are reading this now you know why my face look the way it did and why I did not have a big grin on my face!
The open bitch winner was absolutely gorgeous and in full bloom and I knew that Mary-Grace would not win the bitch ticket. In fact I was not expecting anything else at all. So when Mrs Cain came up to me to present Mary-Grace with the reserve bitch ticket I was once again shocked. Of course I was absolutely delighted.
It was an incredibly long day. I think I did not get into the ring until 4 PM and I had been up since 2 AM and at the shows since 6 AM.
It was lovely to meet so many people and have so many people come up and introduce themselves to me because they are friends on Facebook or just because they had heard of me and they wanted to wish me well. It was also a delight to have the owners of one of the boys out of my present litter watch me in the ring and of course see me win.
I got home about 8 PM in absolutely vile foggy weather. I went to bed soon after and I got up at midday and of course I feel as though I have been run over by a truck. I got through yesterday with much more medication than I would normally take, which is allowed by my doctor because she knows that dog shows are an integral part of my quality-of-life. Today will probably be just an ordinary day as regards the amount of medication.
I have deliberately not named any of the friends that I met some of whom I have not seen for a long time. I will not mention any people by name because I'm bound to leave some out and I do not wish to hurt anybody's feelings. You know what my memory is like!
Mary-Grace is for me the ideal Lhasa Apso. She is feminine yet sturdy. She is very well angulated without exaggeration. She covers the ground effortlessly and with the economy of movement needed in their natural environment of the Himalayan mountains. Her skull is moderately narrow rather than the moderately broad that many seem to prefer and her nose is half the length of her skull. Meaning that her nose is one third of the length from the tip of nose to the occiput. Now that covers her qualities as a show dog but she surpasses all of that with her most delightful personality. She is incredibly affectionate and she is very smart. She is not the easiest of dogs when it comes to other dogs and she does not back down easily once she decides that she will dominate another! Some puppies she adores and other puppies she does not and we have absolutely no idea what makes the difference! She is very typically weird as all Lhasa Apso are!
Yet after my swim on Thursday morning I came home and within about 10 minutes I had come up with my outfit for the show. This enabled me to contemplate actually attending.
I showed Mary-Grace. It was a very difficult decision even to enter Crufts in the first place. If I did not enter I would have hurt a dear friend and I would have given in to the nasty aspect of the dog came. Yet by entering, if Mary Grace did well, then this nasty element would be thrilled to bits to have something they can bitch about and make themselves feel happier by putting both me and the judge down.
When Mary-Grace one limit bitch I was completely shocked. In fact I did not realise that I had one I thought that the judge had just picked out the first cut. It was the steward who told me that Mary Grace had been placed first. So if you were at the show and you are reading this now you know why my face look the way it did and why I did not have a big grin on my face!
The open bitch winner was absolutely gorgeous and in full bloom and I knew that Mary-Grace would not win the bitch ticket. In fact I was not expecting anything else at all. So when Mrs Cain came up to me to present Mary-Grace with the reserve bitch ticket I was once again shocked. Of course I was absolutely delighted.
It was an incredibly long day. I think I did not get into the ring until 4 PM and I had been up since 2 AM and at the shows since 6 AM.
It was lovely to meet so many people and have so many people come up and introduce themselves to me because they are friends on Facebook or just because they had heard of me and they wanted to wish me well. It was also a delight to have the owners of one of the boys out of my present litter watch me in the ring and of course see me win.
I got home about 8 PM in absolutely vile foggy weather. I went to bed soon after and I got up at midday and of course I feel as though I have been run over by a truck. I got through yesterday with much more medication than I would normally take, which is allowed by my doctor because she knows that dog shows are an integral part of my quality-of-life. Today will probably be just an ordinary day as regards the amount of medication.
I have deliberately not named any of the friends that I met some of whom I have not seen for a long time. I will not mention any people by name because I'm bound to leave some out and I do not wish to hurt anybody's feelings. You know what my memory is like!
Mary-Grace is for me the ideal Lhasa Apso. She is feminine yet sturdy. She is very well angulated without exaggeration. She covers the ground effortlessly and with the economy of movement needed in their natural environment of the Himalayan mountains. Her skull is moderately narrow rather than the moderately broad that many seem to prefer and her nose is half the length of her skull. Meaning that her nose is one third of the length from the tip of nose to the occiput. Now that covers her qualities as a show dog but she surpasses all of that with her most delightful personality. She is incredibly affectionate and she is very smart. She is not the easiest of dogs when it comes to other dogs and she does not back down easily once she decides that she will dominate another! Some puppies she adores and other puppies she does not and we have absolutely no idea what makes the difference! She is very typically weird as all Lhasa Apso are!
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
POSITIVITY IS NOT DENIAL
I have the puppies to vaccinate today at 4pm. I am lucky that I have a vet who is a personal friend, Cere Vidal. She is lovely. Dumbo here did not realise that when she left the local practice she had moved to an independent surgery just 20m away. I only found this out when we spent the day together recently and had lunch in the place we had our wedding dinner. So now she is who I go to. She is Spanish. It is one of those occasions I really wish my mum had brought us up bi-lingual. Cere speaks excellent English it just reminds me that i missed out on another language. I have no aptitude for languages as an adult. I've tried.
I fell asleep last night right here in my computer chair. My balance was terrible last night too. It seems okay this morning.
The sun is shining and I have plenty to do today. Nothing I have to do except go to the vet. So I think I shall design and set up DAK8 on the new PC. I have to say that I really quite impressed with W8. I have had no trouble with it. the Samsung PC is easy to use. It is touch screen and mouse controlled. Easy to find stuff.
I am not going to lie and say I feel on top form today. I don't. It is just these days though that the mental work I have done, the positivity, comes into play. In the past days like to day would have been spent miserable and in bed or raiding the fridge. Instead, I accept today is not my best, do what i can do, like play with the PC and knit. Keeping in mind that this will not last and that there are those far worse off.
This isn't mental gymnastics. Nor is it denial or whistling in the dark. it's true. YOU decide what to dwell upon. What you dwell upon tends to grow. So if I dwell on my body and how unfair it is that I have this damn disease the result will be misery and a person not fun to bea around. So instead I dwell upon the truth: I have a wonderful husband, my dogs, good friends, the ability to use my mind, my creativity-I can hand paint yarn when i physically can-I can knit, I can read. i have so many interests and not enough hours each day. (I could dwell upon how I can't do all I want to do).
So you see, it isn't lying to one's self nor is it a mental game or trickery. It's the truth. you can decide what to dwell upon. the negative of the positive. It isn't what soem New Age guru's cruelly teach people-that they can cure their disease by thought and either overtly or covertly blame people for their diseases. no. This is dealing with what actually is and deciding which of the two choices-negative or positive-we will choose at any given time. Choosing the positive will make your life easier. it won;t make you rich and it won't cure you of all your ills. It will just make you happy despite the crap. (I know a person who always thinks on the negative. She always moans and it is always her so hard done by and nothing is ever her fault, always others. Well, within a year of being diagnosed with the same disease, she is permanently in a wheelchair and totally dependent and still blaming everyone and still moaning. Perhaps a change in attitude would have made no difference to the progression of her disease but it most certainly would have made her and those around her happier.)
Sunday, February 24, 2013
DOG SHOW NASTIES
I have noticed that those who complain about horrible people are in the dog game are usually those who are the reason! You know what I mean. Those who complain about the gossip and the back stabbing. They are usually right in the centre of it. That doesn't mean i don't think they are genuinely upset by it. I think they just don't see how they create the bad atmosphere that they complain about. There is a couple that both John and I have been polite and friendly to. they don';t know us because they have never been polite enough to respond in anything but the most perfunctory way. Yet I know, for a very brief conversation, that they too complain about how mean people are yet they themselves are hardly friendly, all but ignoring John and only just managing to respond if I say Good Morning. Why do people do this? Don't they realise we all feel the same way? we can feel hurt. we all can feel mistrust. What if we stopped the crap, looked at ourselves and saw just how we contribute to it? I know that for myself, I have reigned in my attempts at friendliness and openness. i wrote a letter of support to someone and it was interpreted in the most negative of ways and I was made out to be the villain yet it was the person themselves who carried the venom not me. So now I don't even try to encourage or support or compliment. However, i will NOT allow myself to become brittle and unfriendly. Will you? Do we want a dog world like this? Do we want to use FB for back stabbing? Do we want to use it as just another way of being cruel and mean spirited? The under hand remarks made about Deita and why she won. Stupid. they come from a place of jealousy. far better to put your energy into breeding a quality dog so that you too can enjoy the wins and have to listen to people like you deride every win! Those that forever bleat on about the crookedness and unfairness are not seen as paragons of virtue by others. no we see you as bitter and twisted especially when you show inferior dogs to boot! (This is where they won't even see themselves!) I know that I have a good friend in someone who, were the gossips to be believed, is nasty egomaniac. i now know this not to be true and I am embarrassed to have let it get to me in the first place. Not that i am alone. I am not how others were led to believe either. As you can see from my very open views of my home and dogs, they are not stacked in cages to the ceiling and I do not breed many litters every year. These two things were spread about 'virtuous' people and were the reason I was kicked out of a breed club. Don't be daft, of course no one apologised! They have just looked for other reasons to do me down. The baffling thing is that these people believe they are the virtuous ones. seriously. It is they who complain about mean people are. They don't see their own behaviour . I had put it all behind me and did my best to be befriend and kind and friendly. That was a mistake for which i was punished and a lesson I have learned. some people are just mean spirited and nothing I do will alter that.
No we cannot change others. That leaves us with the most powerful tool at our disposal. We change ourselves. Yes. We make sure that we do not add to the shit. Never repeat anything we are told by another about another and never believe it either! don't rubbish a dog you have never been over. Don't rubbish a dog you have been over and if you are a judge you most certainly ought not be talking about those dogs you have had the privilege of going over unless it is in positive terms. It is childish to refuse to speak to people. A polite Good Morning is all that is required. It gets really stupid to have load of people sitting around not talking to each other!
If we want our hobby, (it's a hobby, we are not searching for the cure to cancer) to be a happy enjoyable one, then we have to make it one. yes, i know it's hard to be nice and friendly to people you know do you down at every opportunity they get. Ironically, if we don't continue to be who we are, they win and we become who they say we are! If who you are is suspicious, distrusting, cynical, then perhaps you ought not be int he game or you need to put some serious effort into personal change.
Oh, I know that none of the above is going to make going to make going to shows a blissful experience! Of course not. Most will dismiss this as the ramblings of a wanker. That's okay. I know from experience though, through listening, that there are people who are very decent and nice people and they suffer as the result of this atmosphere. THEY don't have to. By refusing to let others dictate how they behave or react, they can take control of their own selves and come to find the shows enjoyable despite those who would have it otherwise.
It does the breed harm in the long run. New people are not welcomed. Good breeders are afraid of being stung. Judges take any questions about their judging as criticism and are very defensive so people don't bother to ask questions. Another avenue of learning blocked. The knowledge of the successful long term breeders is blocked because they are rubbished by those around for a year or two who think they know it all. Vicious campaigns of lies started by those who think their pets ought to win and think they don't because of who they are instead of recognising that their dog is not quality enough to win.
There IS judging that is crooked or ignorant. This game involves humans. they are still in the minority.
No one is suggesting that we look only though rose coloured glasses at the game. No. Only that we look to ourselves, our own behaviour, our own attitude and ask ourselves how we contribute to this game. Is it negative or positive? It's quite easy. ask yourself if this is positive or negative: I am not speaking to him, because so and so said he doesn't like my dog. I am not speaking to them because they didn't place my dog. It doesn't take much looking at to find the answer.
None of us is perfect, no, but not all of us are mean of spirit either. And yes, some of us when hurt, contribute in negative ways which we are not aware of and would be ashamed if we were.
Well, that is my ramblings on this subject. It was triggered by the fact that I hear so often about how 'awful' people in our breed are and the realisation that those saying this contribute to the awfulness! It is always someone else's fault. well, no its' not. We each create the atmosphere under which we show our dogs. So the responsibility is ours.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
AN ORDINARY DAY ( FOR AN ABLE-BODIED MAN!)
I wake up and not for the first time. This time I decide that I have had enough of trying to get comfortable. I shuffle over to the side of the bed so that I can reach my sidetable wear I find my drugs.
In a small tray lays 800 mg of gabapentin, 20 mg of morphine, 100 mg of tramadol, 500 mg of paracetamol, 75 mg of aspirin, 25 mg of atenolol, and 200 mg of colofac.
If I manage to get the drugs out of the tray and into my hand without spilling any I swallow them all in one go with a sugarfree drink out of a bottle. Never water because my mouth tastes like the bottom of a bird tray.
I then have to wait at least 40 minutes before I feel capable of getting out of bed. Before we got our electric bed, I would shuffle myself to the side of the bed and then allow myself to fall out of bed so that I fell onto my knees. I would then use the radiator and the bed to support myself as I got up onto my feet. Now with the electric bed I press the button until the back support has risen to almost vertical. I then move my legs until they fall down the side of the bed. I shuffle along a couple of feet on my bum and then I press another button which raises the part which I am sat on until I raised so much that I am standing. Using the wall for support I put on my slippers and grab my walking stick. I'm now ready to go downstairs. I take the stairs slowly and the two dogs that sleep with me wait patiently at the top of the stairs until they know it is safe for them to come down as well.
I can now manage to let the dogs out and make myself a coffee. I take my coffee and I go and sit at the computer. During my time at the computer the effect of the drugs increases and I then feel able to do more demanding jobs such as getting myself a meal.
What I have described above is an ordinary day and you will note that I have not included showering nor dressing. Only on a very good day can I do either of these things without help.
On a swimming day, I will add 20 mg of oxycodone or another 20 mg of morphine to my morning dose. This will enable me to get to the pool to take off my pyjamas put on my swimming trunks and swim. After my swim I can barely walk. However I have a nice large room kitted out for the disabled and using the hoists and supports and the bed I can manage to shower and put my pyjamas back on. What I cannot do is dry myself completely as I cannot dry my back so I invariably and putting pyjamas on a wet body.
On a bad day, I will not be able to get out of bed at all without doubling or tripling the amount of morphine. I most certainly would not be able to dress or wash.
On a dog show day, I have two get up to and a half hours before I need to leave. My clothes have all been set out the day before. The day before the amount of painkiller I use is increased and I also take a large dose of sleeping pill. I then go through the usual process of getting myself ready. Although I do of course automatically increase the amount of drug I take first thing, I am sure that the adrenaline that has begun to course through my body helps me do what it is I must.
By the time I have arrived at the show I am of course in a lot of pain because of the drive. However as I am usually the first person to arrive I have plenty of time to take more drugs and to wait for them to take effect. I then find where I need to be and I take all of my stuff and my dogs to that place using a trolley which is now electrified so that I do not have to push it.
I sit at ringside all day until it is time for me to show my dog. With any luck I will not be kept on my feet for very long and I will not be asked to move many times. We have one or two judges that like to have you going around in circles after circle after circle while they make up their minds what they are doing. I will not show under these judges now and to be honest I don't really think they know what they are doing. I think it totally unnecessary to move our breed five times in one class.
During this day, I am acting. One, because despite what people may think I am an introverted person. I do enjoy the dressing up very much and it is a distraction from the way I walk. Two, by acting and interacting I am able to push my physical difficulties into the background. I recall quite vividly at one dog show where I had just won best of breed. I was moving my then un electrified trolley to the group ring when another exhibitor saw me and said, you didn't win then. I replied that yes I had one best of breed. His response was you look miserable. What this person had seen was me with my guard down and the look on my face was pain.
When I arrive home from a show, I go straight to bed. John will unpack the car and deal with the dogs. Later he will come up to the bedroom and help me get undressed or if I have fallen asleep he will undress me.
The following day I will be incapable of doing very much at all. I certainly will not get out of bed without double or treble morphine and I will then have a very quiet day. I will sleep most of it. The day after I will be almost back to normal as described above.
Everything I describe here is a normal day. It does not describe the bad day or a terrible day, just a normal day.
Some people think I am able-bodied.
In a small tray lays 800 mg of gabapentin, 20 mg of morphine, 100 mg of tramadol, 500 mg of paracetamol, 75 mg of aspirin, 25 mg of atenolol, and 200 mg of colofac.
If I manage to get the drugs out of the tray and into my hand without spilling any I swallow them all in one go with a sugarfree drink out of a bottle. Never water because my mouth tastes like the bottom of a bird tray.
I then have to wait at least 40 minutes before I feel capable of getting out of bed. Before we got our electric bed, I would shuffle myself to the side of the bed and then allow myself to fall out of bed so that I fell onto my knees. I would then use the radiator and the bed to support myself as I got up onto my feet. Now with the electric bed I press the button until the back support has risen to almost vertical. I then move my legs until they fall down the side of the bed. I shuffle along a couple of feet on my bum and then I press another button which raises the part which I am sat on until I raised so much that I am standing. Using the wall for support I put on my slippers and grab my walking stick. I'm now ready to go downstairs. I take the stairs slowly and the two dogs that sleep with me wait patiently at the top of the stairs until they know it is safe for them to come down as well.
I can now manage to let the dogs out and make myself a coffee. I take my coffee and I go and sit at the computer. During my time at the computer the effect of the drugs increases and I then feel able to do more demanding jobs such as getting myself a meal.
What I have described above is an ordinary day and you will note that I have not included showering nor dressing. Only on a very good day can I do either of these things without help.
On a swimming day, I will add 20 mg of oxycodone or another 20 mg of morphine to my morning dose. This will enable me to get to the pool to take off my pyjamas put on my swimming trunks and swim. After my swim I can barely walk. However I have a nice large room kitted out for the disabled and using the hoists and supports and the bed I can manage to shower and put my pyjamas back on. What I cannot do is dry myself completely as I cannot dry my back so I invariably and putting pyjamas on a wet body.
On a bad day, I will not be able to get out of bed at all without doubling or tripling the amount of morphine. I most certainly would not be able to dress or wash.
On a dog show day, I have two get up to and a half hours before I need to leave. My clothes have all been set out the day before. The day before the amount of painkiller I use is increased and I also take a large dose of sleeping pill. I then go through the usual process of getting myself ready. Although I do of course automatically increase the amount of drug I take first thing, I am sure that the adrenaline that has begun to course through my body helps me do what it is I must.
By the time I have arrived at the show I am of course in a lot of pain because of the drive. However as I am usually the first person to arrive I have plenty of time to take more drugs and to wait for them to take effect. I then find where I need to be and I take all of my stuff and my dogs to that place using a trolley which is now electrified so that I do not have to push it.
I sit at ringside all day until it is time for me to show my dog. With any luck I will not be kept on my feet for very long and I will not be asked to move many times. We have one or two judges that like to have you going around in circles after circle after circle while they make up their minds what they are doing. I will not show under these judges now and to be honest I don't really think they know what they are doing. I think it totally unnecessary to move our breed five times in one class.
During this day, I am acting. One, because despite what people may think I am an introverted person. I do enjoy the dressing up very much and it is a distraction from the way I walk. Two, by acting and interacting I am able to push my physical difficulties into the background. I recall quite vividly at one dog show where I had just won best of breed. I was moving my then un electrified trolley to the group ring when another exhibitor saw me and said, you didn't win then. I replied that yes I had one best of breed. His response was you look miserable. What this person had seen was me with my guard down and the look on my face was pain.
When I arrive home from a show, I go straight to bed. John will unpack the car and deal with the dogs. Later he will come up to the bedroom and help me get undressed or if I have fallen asleep he will undress me.
The following day I will be incapable of doing very much at all. I certainly will not get out of bed without double or treble morphine and I will then have a very quiet day. I will sleep most of it. The day after I will be almost back to normal as described above.
Everything I describe here is a normal day. It does not describe the bad day or a terrible day, just a normal day.
Some people think I am able-bodied.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
