Daily Archives: March 11, 2017

Reblog – Mindful Mondays: How to Show Compassion to a Body in Pain

Originally posted on The Invisible Warrior:
How do you show compassion to your body when you are in pain? Mindful Mondays: How to Show Compassion to a Body  in Pain. If you follow me on Instagram, chances are you have…

Night on the Rack

Sleep is supposed to be restorative, or so we are taught.

Last night proved anything but.  I lost count of the awakenings occasioned by the loud complaints of various joints and their wounds. 

At 0230 I arose and rummaged through my bandage box, half asleep but unable to finish the job because of the excruciating hypersensitivity of the skin overlying the destruction in my wrist.  It feels like a remake of the RSD from 30 years ago…can that be?  I don’t know, but it is so stupidly sensitive that the mere touch of my well-padded wrist brace feels like liquid fire.  That’s what RSD feels like.

In between excursions to the bathroom and to the bandage box for a piece of biogel to put over my wrist bone, my night was spent in my mind’s idea of a torture chamber.

The scene:  I am conscious that I have been brought to this torture chamber to be “interrogated.”  I have no idea why.  The torturer is probing my mind for vulnerabilities.  At the same time, I am probing my mind for strengths and strategies for survival of what looks to be a prolonged ordeal.  I have no facts to give up, no-one to betray except my own autonomy.  

For that’s what’s at stake, isn’t it?  That’s the thing we, or I for one, most fear losing: autonomy, self-determination.  Aside from mobility and self-expression, that’s what I stand to lose from prolonged torture.

He is sizing me up.  He’s making pleasantries.  I play along, playing for time.  I know he knows that’s what I’m doing.  “Just doing his job,” that’s all.  I ask about his family.  He laughs.  

He wants to know which kind of pain I fear most.  What??  Does he think I’m actually going to answer that…correctly?  Surely, if I say “burning,” he’s going to burn me?!  But wait, if I say “burning,” he’ll know that I’m trying to deflect…no. I’ll say “all kinds.”  I fear all kinds of pain!

He laughs again.

Maybe, he muses, what we need to do, in order to properly sort this, is to try…a sampler.  That way we can explore a variety of stimuli, to see what works best for you.  Pain is such an individual thing, you know…

I’m awake again.  The sky is growing faintly pale.  I decide to get up and enjoy the coolth of the dawn morning.  It’s going to be another blazing day in Paradise.


Fly With The Angels

angel

I’m feeling a little melancholy today.  We have some family friends who have a little girl who has been fighting mesothelioma and ovarian cancer since she was three years old (she’s twelve now) and today she didn’t wake up.  Poor girl.  Yesterday was her last day on earth.  It just seems so cruel that a child’s life was spent fighting cancer, and then the battle was lost.  Life is so uneven!  Some people seem to sort of float through life unscathed, they don’t seem to struggle, they grow up, they have babies, they seem happy, while others seem to have all the struggles.  I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’ve had my share of struggles, but I’m coming out the other side.  My head is above water.  I just…FEEL!  Feel so bad for this little girl, her parents, her sister.  Loss is not fair.  I hope there’s an afterlife, and I hope it’s good.  I hope she’s a happy angel, flying high, playing Minecraft without a care or a pain in the world.  Her name was Zaida.  Be happy and free, Zaida.  Rest in the arms of Love.


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Death, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Bipolar Disorder, Blogging, Depression, Grief, Hope, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Fly With The Angels

angel

I’m feeling a little melancholy today.  We have some family friends who have a little girl who has been fighting mesothelioma and ovarian cancer since she was three years old (she’s twelve now) and today she didn’t wake up.  Poor girl.  Yesterday was her last day on earth.  It just seems so cruel that a child’s life was spent fighting cancer, and then the battle was lost.  Life is so uneven!  Some people seem to sort of float through life unscathed, they don’t seem to struggle, they grow up, they have babies, they seem happy, while others seem to have all the struggles.  I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’ve had my share of struggles, but I’m coming out the other side.  My head is above water.  I just…FEEL!  Feel so bad for this little girl, her parents, her sister.  Loss is not fair.  I hope there’s an afterlife, and I hope it’s good.  I hope she’s a happy angel, flying high, playing Minecraft without a care or a pain in the world.  Her name was Zaida.  Be happy and free, Zaida.  Rest in the arms of Love.


Filed under: Bipolar, Bipolar and Death, Psychology Shmyshmology Tagged: Bipolar, Bipolar Disorder, Blogging, Depression, Grief, Hope, Mental Health, Mental Illness, Psychology, Reader

Take Care Of Your Mental Wellbeing In A Different Way

Originally posted on My Brain Has Hiccups:
About a month ago I experienced three weeks of mental instability – I was seriously ill. (I still want to write a story…

A Woodsy Vlog: Endorsements & The Awesome Mohr Stories Podcasts

My Fall Creek Redwoods Vlog  If you’re brave enough to listen (and braver still to watch my shaky camera work), you’ll be updated about my quest for book endorsements and other tidbits. I forgot to mention that my Scottish collie Lucy has the same birthday as I do: March 18th! She’s turning a whopping 3. (By … Continue reading A Woodsy Vlog: Endorsements & The Awesome Mohr Stories Podcasts

FROM RUSSIA, WITH…

http://www.vox.com/conversations/2017/2/22/14697718/donald-trump-putin-russia-kremlin-hillary-clinton

I know I’m naive.  And I know my mind likes to take things apart into itty bitty bits, in the hope of making sense out of sensory input.

The New Regime has had my poor head spinning around on its stalk faster and faster, till all I can do is cry out in agony, “Ghost of Ronnie Raygun, please dazzle some yea or nay into this Doublespeak word salad!”

And so it was that I found the above article.  The light has been dazzled, and now I’m afraid to hit “PUBLISH.”  It’s worse than I thought.