I’m tired of being told to sleep. Even more tired of being told to sleep more. You’d think I sleep in a crib with bunny sheets, stuffies, and a Nightmare Before Christmas mobile for the amount I’m told to go to sleep. Everyone is telling me to sleep, wishing me a good night’s sleep, telling me all about the importance of sleep. Magazines and blog posts tell me to sleep. Books tell me to sleep. Family and friends tell me to sleep. TV tells me to sleep, even provides programs that attempt to bore me to sleep, nice try TV, still awake.
I’m mocked by the benefits of sleep. I know that sleep is connected to the brain and it’s the most important organ, then again, look what’s telling me that, my left brain barely knows what my right brain is doing.
Sleep promotes creativity, attention, apparently it helps heal, restore, keeps anxiety, depression, colds and other ailments at bay, and improves memory….Hmm, what were we talking about? Oh yes, sleep. It helps you lose weight, build muscle, stop inflammation. Doesn’t sleep sound amazing?
I crave sleep, like it’s a plump juicy strawberry covered in rich chocolate nestled on fluffy clouds of whipped cream. I dream of sleep. I covet it. Sometimes sleep envy eats at me like a rat gnawing on cotton candy at a country fair.
I worship sleep, who needs celebrities, I only want to imitate sleep, I want to be sleep. Hi sleep – I’m your #1 fan (and those aren’t pillows).
I even snuggle with my bed, swaddling it with a decent thread count, soft blue sheets decorated with sheep, each with their own number, jumping over fences. My room is almost as dark as the bottom of the Mariana Trench, perhaps darker than the Batcave when Batman can’t find the light-switch.I slept during the first trimester of pregnancy, I’d do just about anything for sleep, but, ummm, well…
Like many with Fibromyalgia https://yadadarcyyada.com/2013/08/31/fibromylagia-is-just-another-word-for-lazy/ https://yadadarcyyada.com/2013/08/08/fibromyalgia-is-a-four-letter-word/ I’ve tried: melatonin, serotonin, valerian, chamomile, progressive muscle relaxation, sleeping pills, tryptophan, alcohol, Tai Chi, yoga, meditation, alien cuddle exercises…
sleep masks, abdominal breathing, cognitive behaviour therapy, kava, but no, my alpha waves are trouble makers. Is it any wonder I love the band R.E.M.? I’ve even thought of building a wall between my alpha waves and my delta waves and make the alpha waves pay for the wall. And now as an added bonus I’m playing that hot new game: blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, blankets off…what was the prize again?
Insomnia has some benefits. I get exercise walking and I experience the, er, inspiration of public transit because I won’t drive when tired. I’ve also been organizing my home on the theory if I’m extremely organized I’ll sleep better. So far, no luck, but maybe obsessively organized people are just be too lazy to search for stuff. I wouldn’t want to be seen as lazy.
I wish I could use the time to write or do something else productive, but alas, after a certain hour my mind is more or less mush.
You can’t always get what you want, like sleep, but that doesn’t mean you just give up. You keep going, keep trying, keep reaching, whether it’s for a forty winks, a job, losing weight, climbing Mount Everest, seeking to right wrongs, swimming the English Channel, help others, being an author, scientist, artist, astronaut, singer, teacher, leader…
I do have ambiguous feelings about a creepy Sandman sneaking into my room, or some strange Greek god invading my dreams, shudder, what form would he take on these days, no thanks, Morpheus. It’s not like I’m asking to be Rip Van Winkle or Sleeping Beauty, just less tired.
Maybe I could think of my insomnia as a fascinating quirk, but all things considered, I’d rather be sleeping.
Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate (it should be every single day!) and remember, shopping is not the true meaning of being thankful…really.
“Did you sleep well?”
“No, I made a couple of mistakes.”
As a writer I have to believe words have power. One of the words I dislike is hate (note I didn’t say I hated hate). It’s overused. People hate their life. Family. Weight. Home. Car. Cats (maybe they sense your hate). Government. Politicians. Job. Hair. Cake (you are so reading the wrong blog). Books. TV shows. Songs. Actors. Movies. Vegetables (how do you hate something plant-based?).
I’m tired of hearing people say they hate…I’m not sure they know what that word means. Hate should be reserved for really, really bad people and things, like: child abusers, rapists, murderers, Hitler, warlords, dictators, alien overlords, stuff like that.
1. Let’s review, do you really hate your life or just certain aspects? Your whole life is a big category with many moving parts, pick the right part to hate, let the rest roll on.
2. Standing in the middle of a room silently or loudly screaming, “I hate my life” or “no No NOOOO!” repeatedly will probably make you feel slightly better for about 30 seconds, but it’s not a long-term ‘fix’.
3. This is usually the point when advice-giver types tell you to change your life. That’s all well and good, but what if some things are beyond your ability to change? Should you just accept them, or rail against them, lay down and kick and scream until you feel better, or until someone offers you ice cream to stop, or threatens to call the authorities (and no ice cream)?
4. How much time do you spend each day ‘hating your life’, I suggest you cut that in half, help others with the other half, you’ll feel the hate drift away.
5. Take a deep breath. This probably won’t help you hate your life less, but hopefully you might get a nice breath of fresh air, or the smell of fresh-baked goods.
6. Do something, maybe something different, or something to help someone else, again, may not make your life full of singing and woodland creatures doing your housework, but it might remind you of the good things.
7. Take charge of your life, unless you wouldn’t feel comfortable having you in charge, after all, do you even remember where your keys, or the remote is right now?
8. Are you at least changing the things you hate about your life? You’d hate to get stuck in a rut of hating the same things for decades.
9. Check your birth certificate. Are you old enough to hate your life? There are some weird laws out there, you don’t want to be breaking any.
10. Write down what you hate, maybe there’s a great book, or movie or TV show, song, etc. in all that hate. As much as people say they love positivity, so many popular shows, movies, books, plays, songs, etc. are about dysfunction, hate, crime, death, destruction, apocalyptic worlds, and misery, including Misery.
Maybe the haters just need a nap. A nap always makes you feel better. I’ve been enjoying a tiny bit more sleep (even when awake) in the past week (new meds).
Fibromyalgia and sleep don’t get along, but as much as I can hate the pain it inflicts on me 24/7, the constant fatigue, feeling left out of life sometimes, there’s no point, it is what it is. I have a choice, I can choose hate and be all grumpypants, or I can choose love and keep enjoying what I have and hoping for better days ahead.
If I said anything wonky during my blog party https://yadadarcyyada.com/2016/01/29/always-on-my-mind-blog-party/ (still open by the way, drop by anytime and promote your blog, for free, yes, free – we hear that word often, but it’s rarely true, in this case, it is) – I’ll blame it on the drugs (totally legal ones). Thanks to all those who came out. Happily, my bed and I are back on speaking terms, for now, and we didn’t even need sleep counseling.
Haters gonna hate, so let’s bake them a cake…seriously, who can hate when eating cake?
Be brave. Be bold.
Choose love…and naps…and cake
(not necessarily in that order).
Hello, it’s good to be back!
Thanks to all of you for standing by me, supporting me, my blog, and my blogging break.
Against all odds, I’ve tried to keep up with your blogs too, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy or inspiration to write a post myself.
I’ve resolved not to make any resolutions this new year, but to keep exploring this uncharted life of mine.
But here’s what happened when I was gone, sort of….
1. I learned I’m never going to be a proper gym bunny. It seems to involve an excessive amount of hair-flipping, giggling, spandex, and a thong or two where they don’t belong or two.
2. Inconsiderate people keep using my public library to take out books I wish to read. On a brighter note, they’ve increased the hold limit to 60 items!
3. Another plane, another train, but no way to get those Beastie Boys outta of my brain. Every time I see or hear an ad for the movie, Brooklyn voices inside my head sing: “No sleep till Brooklyn!”.
4. If you don’t try you can’t fail, but you can’t succeed either.
5. I miss when stuff didn’t have so many names or labels, when you could just like what you liked. My lovely childhood crushes on Tom Baker, Kirk, and Bobby Darin, ok, that one ended badly when I found out he’d been dead for several years (somewhere beyond the sea, for sure), anyway, all that would now be called ‘fangirling’. Long before Mr. Darcy plunged into that lake and Daryl Dixon picked up a crossbow, I had labels I didn’t know about. Forget labels, just be you, that’s enough.
6. People who say, “I’m not going to say I told you so” are really saying, “I told you so”.
7. I missed blogging! I needed a break, to write my book, catch up on life, which is being dreadfully uncooperative, but I missed this and you, dear readers and I bet you missed all my, er, blogging advice.
8. Imagine, you win millions in the lottery, would you spend it on a vanity project? That’s what Alice (Kristen Wiig) does in Welcome To Me, a weird little film with a big, brilliant cast including: Tim Robbins, Joan Cusack, James Marsden, Wes Bentley, Linda Cardellini, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Alan Tudyk. Full of uncomfortable moments, it had me questioning quite a few things, especially blogging – is blogging just a vanity project, a sort of emotional exhibitionism?
9. While suffering from Doctor Who, The Walking Dead, Haven, The Blacklist, Into The Badlands withdrawal, which wasn’t pretty and mostly consisted of me trying not to whine about it, since these are clearly First World Problems, to the extreme, I decided to read more (is that possible?). Why not get caught up on a few of the fascinating ‘And Philosophy…’ series from Open Court? I started with Doctor Who and Philosophy, then Downton Abbey, Homeland, and The Walking Dead. I noticed all these books toil to shatter the myth that TV is simply a vast cultural wasteland. Fighting zombies, taking tea, traveling through time and space, those are hooks to get us to watch and keep watching, it’s really about the interaction between the characters, the choices, the sacrifices, those moments when we see ourselves and feel or learn something. If it can happen in a book, why can’t it happen on TV or in movies? I love these books because like the TARDIS, they’re bigger on the inside, making me feel all esoteric, ideologicalish, and thinky, but without getting that time-consuming philosophy degree. Just the way I like it.
10. I sometimes forget (or wish to forget) what a tricky beast and ruthless, relentless taskmaster Fibromyalgia can be, but I’ll keep trying to keep on keeping on…easier said than done.
Tomorrow we could be alive or dead, but today, my friends, today we are alive, so go out there and live.
To me, blogging is
a version of the
in a bottle.
The blogging world
is a vast ocean,
we throw our
message out there
and hope against hope
someone finds it.
Some of us are trying to
connect, share, find others,
teach, or maybe even
send out an SOS.
So how do you start
your own ‘message in a bottle’
and make it reach others?
1. Don’t think about if your readers will love what you write or you’re going to be discovered, just make sure you love it, then hopefully, they will. If not, there’s always chocolate.
2. Remember as you send these bottles out, those you’re trying to reach are never far from the madding crowd (hearing people mispronounce the title, Far From the Madding Crowd is actually more fun than the book/movies, is that wrong?). People are busy, so when they open their email to see a hundred billion bottles washed up on their shore, it can be overwhelming.
3. In this same vein, posts can be vampires, sucking away time. Or maybe sometimes a vampire is just a vampire.
4. Posts can also be zombies, shuffling into our readers or mailboxes, taking bites out of the day. I don’t know if I Fear The Walking Dead so much as opening my email, in other words, know your audience…it can be a grave error to write long or many posts if your readers don’t have time to read them. You make your readers snooze, you lose.
5. Adding images to posts amuses me, makes me laugh, makes a point, or just makes me happy. Hopefully they resonate with others.
6. Sometimes readers won’t get what you’re saying or don’t agree. Sometimes your jokes fall flat. Maybe they haven’t read the same books, watched the same movies or TV shows…Some are trolls, actively dislike you, perhaps even use your Gravatar at which to throw darts – the internet is built on people being offended, appalled, shocked, and downright grumpy. Just do what you do.
7. How can you expect people to have a deep relationship with a shallow person? Be real, write your own stuff, if that makes people think, learn, laugh, smile, cry, or even spit their coffee out…they’ll want to read more.
8. Like it or not, successful blogging has a degree of popularity. Let’s jump back to vampires, they depend on brooding, pouting, sparkling, hotness, intensity, and overacting with a penchant for black clothes, especially black leather, but blogging can’t all be about flash and no substance.
9. Get out there, enjoy other blogs, find those messages in bottles and answer them, don’t be timid about liking, sharing or commenting – let others know you’re out there. Make them feel like they’re not alone in being alone.
10. Most of you are part of a large, sprawling, at times dysfunctional, human race family, so you’ll be part of the blogging family. Like vampires, family can sometimes be a pain in the neck, but still we hunger for the connection.
11. When the unexpected or unwanted happens, say, your computer breaks, you have a dental emergency, you can’t get a song by The Police out of your head; out of town company; Fibroflare; anxiety about a coming event; a sinus infection and the list goes on…um, write a blogging advice post?
12. Wow, that advice is bloody awesome…or terrible, depending on your point of view. Forget all of it, just do whatever feels right to you.
And I hope that someone gets your…I hope that someone gets your message in a bottle. Here’s mine.
We’ve all forgotten where we put our car or house keys.
Who hasn’t walked into a room and forgotten why?
Been speaking when the word you want goes missing, you know it’s there, you grope around in your mind, finding other words that might work in it’s place, but the word you wanted is gone.
I’m forever putting things ‘where I know they’ll be’ then fairies spirit them away, only to be found later in a totally illogical spot. Those fairies.
Forgetting is normal. Our minds are full. Overfull. We’re stressed or tired.
What if it isn’t just that?
What if forgetting is a symptom?
I made the mistake/best choice to watch Still Alice, based on the stunning novel by Lisa Genova about a 50-year-old Linguistics professor who learns she has early onset Alzheimer’s. I hadn’t been quite prepared for the visceral punch of watching a woman close to my age lose her mind and herself.
How can your thoughts, memories, love, dreams, the essence of who you are all be ripped from you, not by some invading army, some natural disaster, but by your own brain?
How could we lose: Our Dad’s laugh. Mom’s wisdom. Joking with siblings. Husbands. Wives. Friends. The smell of our children as babies. The feel of loved ones in our arms. Our first date, first kiss, first job. Or our best date, best kiss, best job? I can’t even begin to imagine staring at pictures of family and friends and not knowing who they are.
Our knowledge and memories so greedily gathered over the years, erased as though they never happened.
Losing who we are, even before we’re gone.
In the movie, Alice (played the exquisitely talented Julianne Moore) quotes Elizabeth Bishop’s poem, One Art, sad and famous words,
“The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.”
As a person with Fibromyalgia I’ve long appreciated and hated those words. For those who live with illness every day the art of losing isn’t hard to master, it becomes more of a science. You learn to manage, modify, accommodate, cope, compromise, let things go, adjust, re-adjust and always adjust your expectations – there’s a trick to life, except you’re not always sure it isn’t being played on you.
At times we all want to forget. Forget pain. Forget sorrow. Forget humiliation. Forget betrayal. Forget loss. The seductive lure of forgetting makes us forget that remembering is a gift, one that should never be wished away.
I won’t recommend this film. Not because it wasn’t wonderful, it was.
I won’t urge you to watch this film. Instead watch the news, so full of ISIS, FIFA, elections that are months or even years away, what celebrities are wearing, eating, doing, it’s all sooooo important, we really should be paying close attention.
Don’t worry about Alzheimer’s, cancer, MS, heart attacks, strokes, diabetes, asthma, and all the other illness that take our loved ones.
Don’t watch this movie, there wasn’t any sex, violence, special effects, car chases, CGI, superheroes. It’s only about change, dignity, character, and highlights that things we too often think matter, you know, little things, petty things, stupid things, don’t matter at all.
“They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naturally they became heroes.”
Princess Leia Organa of Aldaraan, Senator
This is one of my favourite quotes from Star Wars, though it was never used in the movies. I don’t know how many times in my life I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if one believes in fate, perhaps I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Each day is filled with choices, decisions, some huge, life-changing and others little, although who knows, they might be life changing as well.
Today is May the 4th, some may know it as Intergalactic Star Wars Day. For some, that’s everyday.
Nerds greet each other with, May the 4th Be With You. Posts, memes, parties, hash tags, sales, and news stories converge, in greater numbers.
Although this May 4th, the news is more about Princess Charlotte Elizabeth Diana than Princess Leia.
Tomorrow, to a lesser degree with Revenge of the Fifth, although I think Revenge of the Sixth makes more sense. Is that a thing?
An old nemesis has descended upon me this May the 4th – my Darth Vader, my Boba Fett, Jabba the Hut (probably rather have Pizza the Hut), Rancor (although it smells better), Greedo, or Count Dooku – I’ve loosely titled it, Stars Wars VIII: Return of the Back Pain. Luckily it doesn’t hurt as much when I sit…and if I go over to The Dark Side, I hear they have cookies.
I think I know what brought it on, an unusual activity (not nearly as exciting as it sounds).
It also brings back horrible memories of the car accident where the pain originated and I’m left to watch my back, like the aptly titled book, Watch Your Back! by Richard A. Deyo MD (Cornell University Press). I read this last time my back pain flared, hoping for some answers. It left me with more questions as it’s straightforward information shone a light on The Dark Side of the medical profession which offers people less and less, for more and more.
We don’t like to think that our pain is a business, but it’s big business.
This book won’t be popular, it points out that the medical profession, like politics and other systems, to paraphrase George Lucas, is like a great tree, able to withstand any external force, but rots from within. The lure of money, power, and prestige can overcome common sense and decency.
I understand the temptation of the magic fix, but realistically I know I have to do most of the figurative heavy lifting.
As patients we should be pushing for more treatments that are sensible, empowering, and give effective, long-term results for moderate costs.
I’m used to being in constant pain with Fibromyalgia, it waxes and wanes, but never actually ceases, but in a strange way pain can also be freeing. You see past the Jedi mind tricks or I guess more like Sith mind tricks…you see the truth.
What about you, dear readers, do you ever see The Dark Side of people when they think they can’t get anything from you?
Do you also see the power of The Force of goodness when some people like you just the way you are?
The latter is what I choose to believe in.
May the Fourth be with you.
Depending on where you are, this week is:
Spring Break, March Break, March Madness, Spring Equinox, St. Patrick’s Day or maybe it’s just March.
So for our own form of March Madness, a Spring Fling to get us in the mood, let’s have a Blog Party!!!
Please use the comment box below to tell other bloggers about your blog –
don’t forget to include your blog link!
Tell us something about yourself and/or your blog
and share it so other bloggers will find out about you and everyone else!
I started this blog for relaxation (although sometimes, especially when WordPress makes changes, relaxation is not the word I use), but now, over 500 posts later, I look at my followers and views with wonder.
As a single mom with Fibromyalgia, raising a child with Autism and other health concerns, relaxation is important because most days I feel like Wile E. Coyote with his tiny umbrella.
I’ve learned a lot, but the best part has been my dear readers.
You make it all worth while.
Finding each other in this giant virtual haystack is astonishing and awesome.
I’d hoped it would also lead to fame and fortune; that part hasn’t panned out, but who knows?
Till then, still broke and just a tad less obscure.I’m thankful for all the awards I’ve received, but narrowing down other nominees has become too challenging as I find more and more astonishing bloggers whose insights thrill, stories chill, make me cry, laugh, smile, remember, make me think, wonder, and dream.
I love that you think of me, but my time and energy are limited so I’ll use them by responding to your comments and leaving some on your blogs, Tweeting, Retweeting, and sharing your posts.
I’d like to thank some of my most stalwart supporters, those of you who follow, take the time to press the Like button; who humble me by reblogging; Tweet and Retweet, share on Facebook, Google+, Reddit, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Tumblr and more. I find myself looking forward to your posts, comments, insights, loving your stories, glowing…
I just want to soak them all up.
So join me here, it’s easy to Follow via email or WordPress
and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/yadadarcyyada
Twitter @yadadarcyyada for some Hashtag parties:
Sundays: #SundayBlogShare @suzie81blog
Mondays: #MondayBlogs @MondayBlogs
Wednesdays: #wwwblogs (Women Writer Wednesdays),
and #BeWoW (Be Wonderful posts on Wednesdays @RonovanWrites)
Any day with compassion: #1000Speak @1000Speak
Weekends: #WeekendBlogHop @WeekendBlogHop
Excellent ways to find posts and bloggers.
So thank you all for a memorable time here on this big bouncy web.
Please don’t leave without sharing your blog link and info below,
so other bloggers can find you
and you can find other bloggers.
Keep checking back, who knows how long this party will last?
My brain is often at war with my body.
I want to do more. More! More! Yes, on days like this my brain sounds like a strange combination of yearning romance novel heroine and petulant child.
Such is the hidden world of Fibromyalgia.
My body dragged itself out of bed to start another day. Not really sure why I have a bed sometimes, but at least it’s there for rest and decoration. I also once again failed to get the license number of the Mack Truck that hit me while I was sleeping.
With FMS another day means more pain, fatigue, frustration, disappointment, doubters and just more of less.
I don’t expect anyone who doesn’t live with Fibromyalgia to understand it. I don’t have cancer, that doesn’t mean I can’t have empathy and understanding for those that do. Or ALS, MS, CP, Diabetes, Autism, depression, heart disease, stroke, Alzheimer’s, etc.
Doesn’t mean I can’t understand a man because I’m not a man.
Or the rich because I’m not rich.
As human beings we have a wealth of empathy, understanding, and compassion available to us at any time.
I get some people think Fibromyalgia is made up by lazy or unmotivated people. Ok, why do doctors and other professionals go along with it, what’s in it for them? They have more than enough patients, unfortunately cancer alone keeps them pretty busy.
So it hasn’t been my day, my week, my month, or even my year, but I do know that laughter is truly the best medicine so I thought today was a good day to review Conversations with Steve Martin edited by Robert E. Kapsis (University Press of Mississippi). Thank you Netgalley.com for letting me borrow this ARC copy, available in stores early September 2014.
I’ve already had many conversations with Mr. Martin in the last 35 years – usually he’s wearing an arrow through his head or bunny ears, or a balloon hat, playing his banjo, getting Happy Feet, dressed in a King Tut outfit, and/or eating tiny chocolate cookies while juggling small cats. No cats were harmed in my fantasy conversations with Steve Martin.
Conversations with Steve Martin highlights Martin‘s contributions not only as a comedian, but as a writer, musician, artist, and free-thinker through a series of interviews and profiles. It’s sort of a living eulogy of Martin’s rollercoaster career over the past 4 decades.
Steve Martin has thrilled and disappointed audiences for decades with his ever-changing style, from eccentric, incongruous, and wacky to mature to sinister to bizarre to mellow.
As much as I’ve enjoyed some of his later work, I sometimes miss the wild and crazy guy, the Cruel Shoes, King Tut, Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid, The Jerk, The Man With Two Brains https://yadadarcyyada.com/2013/11/27/the-man-with-two-brains/ and more.
That being said, I’m so glad he moved on and didn’t get stuck.
If you’re a Steve Martin fan this latest book is ubercool, if you’re not, well, excuuuuuuuse me!
You can read, watch or have pretend conversations with Steve Martin or maybe really pretend 140 characters or less magical moments on Twitter @SteveMartinToGo
Carl Reiner may have said it best, “His strength, as an actor, I’ve found, is his beautiful body,” Carl Reiner said jokingly. “His weakness is too much hair on his body.”
Laughter may not fix all the world’s problems, but it sure does know how to make them seem less dire.
I think tonight will be a Steve Martin movie night.
Thank you Mr. Martin for another lovely conversation, next time, you bring the cookies.
It’s not as though me and my Dad built decks for a living or built lots of decks together.
We built one deck together. It took us a few days. And by us I mean mostly my Dad.
Up front, I’m not sure whether I was more of a help or hindrance.
I recall smashing my thumb with a hammer. Dad said, more or less, “Great, your Mom is going to kill me”, with a laugh. It was a family joke. She understood. I had suffered many injuries in the care of everyone, as well as those that happened while with friends, in school, alone. I was known as clumsy. Turns out I actually had: Epilepsy, Fibromyalgia, and Hypermobile Joint Syndrome. It’s very possible I’m also clumsy.
Why was I at the camp (some call them cottages or summer home, in Northern Ontario, they’re called camps) helping my Dad with the deck? I seemed an unlikely choice, but my older brother who was actually helpful in building situations was away at university and everyone else was working. My Dad was on vacation and we needed a deck at the camp.
We’d work during the day and in the evening we’d have supper then ice cream, watch TV, I’d read to my Dad, or we’d both read to ourselves…and we’d talk.
You may have noticed I refer to my father as Dad, never my father because he’s a Dad, always. Funny, smart, sweet, sometimes annoying, sometimes really annoying, kind, and fun. He loved friends and family, cars, talking about cars, looking at cars, fixing cars, driving cars, watching cars, taking pictures of cars and with cars, also, cats, beer, eating, TV, movies, working, laughing, dancing; he was a gentleman and a gentle man, hopelessly silly…and always a Dad to me and my brother.
There’s never a picture of him where that mischievous twinkle isn’t in his eye except when he had dark sunglasses on, but we know the twinkle’s still there.
I’m not sure we were always aware of how lucky we were to have a Mom & Dad, not just a Mother & Father. We did always know we were loved. Of course, look at us, we were adorable. I love my Mom & Dad today and every day.
I have lived at least six or seven lifetimes in the past 30 or so years since those days at the camp. I wish my memory was perfect or more robust, but the happiness I felt in that time has never faded in my heart.
Enjoy the times you have because you never know until later those times were actually treasures.
Happy Dad’s Day to all those men who care enough to be Dads, not just fathers!
You’re lazy. You’re a whiner. You’re attention seeking. It’s all in your head. Fibromyalgia is just another word for lazy. Feel free to add more. I’ve heard them all.
Let me get this straight, the medical profession conspired and effectively implemented a fake syndrome just to cater to lazy people. Sounds perfectly reasonable. It’s not as if doctors have anything better to do. Or have reputations and licenses to protect. Or have ethics. And what exactly would their motivation be? Why would they make up an illness? Aren’t there enough illnesses? Cancer alone should keep them hopping.
There are many health issues that can not be found through standardized testing, for example: Multiple Sclerosis, ALS, Cerebral Palsy, Parkinson’s, Autism, Lupus, ADD/ADHD, wheat or gluten ‘sensitivity’, acute back pain, as well as many mental health issues.
Does that mean they don’t exist? Does that mean the people that have these issues don’t suffer, don’t feel, don’t actually have these medical challenges?
People like to mock. I get that. I’d guess those same people would want doctors and people to believe them if they were ill, even if there was no standardized testing for their illness.
To the best of my knowledge, there’s no standardized testing for ignorance or stupidity yet either, but I’d buy stocks for that future booming business.
I didn’t ask to be ill and I certainly didn’t ask to be mocked and harassed because I’m ill. Even if it was just ‘in my head’, shouldn’t anyone with a health issue be treated with dignity and respect?
Maybe we need a standardized test for intolerance.
This isn’t a whiny post (at least I’ll try, no promises), or a ‘it can be fixed blog’, or whatever. Just a few thoughts about why people think Fibromyalgia isn’t a real syndrome, that it’s just lazy, unmotivated people and mostly, why I don’t have all the answers.