coping
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I’m not certain if control issues were inherited or ingrained, but my mother was the pinnacle of having things in order, and bits of her need to control all the things all the time were handed down to me, and I handed bits down to my daughter. It isn’t always a bad thing to want
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There is this common statement among those who choose a Christian religious base for their belief system. I hear it often. I hate it more every time it is said. “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” I call bullshit. I am dealing with more than I can handle. I’ve been dealing
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Yesterday was too much. In fact, the too much started the day before, and I didn’t do a good job of mitigating it at the outset. But who is great at mitigating, really? On Thursday, when I took the bus to the doctor, there was so much chaos. There was a woman who insisted her
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This morning I asked the dog, “Wouldn’t my mother be proud of me, swallowing up to 11 pills at once?” Shockingly, he responded by turning his head to one side and looking at me with cuteness and confusion, wondering if I were asking him something he wanted to hear … he hasn’t mastered English language
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I can’t write this week. I’ve tried several times. Two or three paragraphs in, it falls apart and the message I meant to speak becomes a ball of words with no real significance. I’m too tangled up inside, I think, to be able to present something linear and coherent on the outside. I’m a mess.
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Sometimes, when I am explaining my symptoms to a new doctor or physical therapist, I use this expression of “dead leg”. It isn’t the pins and needles feeling that we commonly associate with numbness. It is more of a lack of a sensation than a sensation. It is like that portion of my body is
Learning To Be Whole 