Here..Here..Present!

Remember the smart-alic kids in elementary school during roll call?  The entire class would say “Here!” when their name was called…except the few bent on being cute who said, “Present!”  I don’t know what made me think of that for this post lol.  All I know is — both responses feel GREAT right now!!…to be both Here and Present!

First, I want to thank all my blog friends again for the kind words, the cheers, the prayers, and positive thoughts during this time.  I send you all abundant love and appreciation.  I’m slowly up and about after surgery, waiting for the last remnants of soreness and dizziness to bid adieu.

Looks like I’m not a general anesthesia virgin anymore lol, and what I previously thought was a problem with awareness, was really a problem of expectations (the docs had only given me the “cocktail“, not full-blown anesthesia).  This time, they got me good lol… “Just take deep breaths of the oxygen.”  After 3-4 breaths, the next thing I remember was waking up with what felt like a pipe up my right nostril.  So, now I’m nursing my throat and neck where they also inserted the breathing tube into my chest….a tell-tale sign of past unconsciousness.

Another sign? Nausea.  This throwing up business happened with my “cocktail” episode too.  Only then, I wasn’t in front of the hospital in a wheelchair, upchucking into one of those small hospital basins.  Not a very cuteful moment LOL….but anyway…*smile*

Fibes and polyps?  Well, the latter was all removed (pathology report soon), and the former were no where to be found!  This could mean the fibes are in a deeper place, or healed altogether.  Wouldn’t that be fab?!  I’ll keep tabs on it with another ultrasound this year some time….

Overall people?  God has been super gracious to me!!  Little to no pain, blessed to have a job and paid time off from that job, hubby has been my hero, moms has been my shero, support from friends and fam, and I survived the what ifs that had caused me great angst.  Don’t laugh, but when you’re new to sickness, surgery, etc….you think about it.  Is this my time?

So grateful purpose still lives large in me, and I want to accomplish every purpose and dream predestined for my life, in a healthy body…hmm, like having other women read my story before they live my story.  Let the new day begin…

Wanna Win? Shoo the Birds!

Blood pressure.  120 over 80.  Weight. 156.  Darn 30 is now darn 6 .  Smoker. No.  Alcohol. Twice a year count?  No. Drugs. No.  Chronic disease? Diabetic. No.  Stroke. No.  TB. No. Chronic pain. No.  Acid reflux. No. Heart murmur. Heart disease. Heart attack. No, No, No.  Std. HIV. No, No.  Asthma. No.  High cholesterol.  Thyroid problems. Blood clots. Ulcers. Seizures. Arthritis………

The cute PA with the baby face checked off a laundry list of No’s for pre-op.  She finally ended the form with, “You’re a very healthy woman”.  Her smile was geniune.  Maybe it was me that projected the question in her eyes…”what are you doing here?”

I’ve been very blessed…thanks be to God!  Hearing those words made my soul smile, so grateful to say No to sooo many diseases others deal with on a day-to-day basis.  I have no clue.  But, her words sparked not only gratitude, but reflection.  The mirror of my past, and thoughts of my now. The journey that brought me to that very chair in the hospital room, discussing patient history, anesthesia options, and having blood drawn in case I need some during surgery tomorrow.

Never experienced serious illness before this journey.  The dis-ease they’ll remove symbolizes the dis-connection from pain and depression.  By the grace of God, we are strangers now, no longer intimate friends.  

Moms tried to refute my argument.  Probably a loving petition to take myself off the hook.  “Well, there are many people who haven’t experienced traumatic events…and they develop disease.”  This may very well be true.  But, I believe we underestimate the traumatic effects that prolonged anger, bitterness, unforgiveness, stress, and the like have on our bodies.  How do we respond and manage traumatic events?  The cells in our bodies aren’t hard of hearing, and they respond to every thought we have in our minds. 

I was researching psychosocial/psychological stress and its effect on health.  Stanford U has a very engaging site about stress & health…check it out.  Looks like the same physiological stress response early humans had while running from predators, is the same response modern humans have for taxes, divorce, or even public speaking.  The only difference is, when the predator is gone, our bodies return to a state of rest…we release the stress response.  Not so for stress in our daily lives.  Why do we keep the heightened state of madness going, changing, increasing?  Could it be cos our minds are so advanced, creative, imaginative now…that we’re smart enough to keep it going, foolish enough not to turn it off?

For me, this concept magnifies when I think about women.  We are creators, no?  The very essence of creativity, the center of life lies within us…our womb.  And when it comes to fibes, this goes triple for African-American women for some reason.  What happens when we carry seeds of unresolved hurts, pains, trauma…extensions of stress?  We do what we do naturally — we create!  We give life and bring forth chaos in our bodies. 

Moms asked me the other day, “Do you want to win?”  Health, peace, joyous life…insert any prize into the blank.  She’s never been to college, let alone read the Stanford U findings, but funny how they agree substantively.  After my resounding “Yes!”, she says, “Well, the battle begins in the mind.  Negative thoughts are like birds…you shoo them away before they land, don’t give them time to build a nest…that’s more than half the battle won.” 

Lord, help me to be smart enough to LET your mind be in me, and LET the beautiful birds of truth, love, purity, goodness, honesty, fairness, and praise dwell with me always.

Until soon….

I wanna…

…write.  do.  something.  create some music.  finish some lyrics.  read. sleep. run. walk. instead.  i’m sitting here. thinking. nothing. everything. i’m really going through with it. still a week out. and you’re already starting to trip, girl. living wills. durable power of attorney. insurance cards. anesthesia options. every # and address you have. yeah. the hospital’s called twice today.  pre-op registration. whateva. as much as i’d like to trivialize this thing. tell myself it’s really not that serious.  or better yet, high-tail it from reality. it’s starting to feel. serious. like the one who “hates” docs and hospitals and forms and needles and bed gowns. is really gonna go through with it. sigh. where’s my well? who moved the light switch? positivity. any minute now, faith. real substance. jump start. switch me. shift me. to perfect peace. a mind. focused. that sees only Creator God. a stare. frozen in time. melting away. the nagging angst………..

On the Job Training

When I was a kid, I could work a rollercoaster.  Fearless.  The deeper the drops, the faster it moved, the louder the screams, the sicker my companions lol — the better.  Recently, it seems like the rollercoaster’s been working me…in a wild cat and mouse game of who’s ridin’ who.  Suffice it to say, I don’t like rollercoasters much anymore, especially the ones you can’t see, but your emotions can feel…the ups, downs, the looping arounds .  I’m beginning to get the big picture of how to deal with emotional rollercoasters:  Either develop a twisted affection for the anxiety….or get off.  Yeah, sounds simple in theory…doesn’t it.

So, in my quest to jump ship, I’ve checked myself into specialized training with an expert.  Yep, class is in session on how to handle the really painful events that leave a bruise on life…how can I view and respond to these events, without prolonged or re-occurring anger, bitterness, and without blaming and charging God with wrongdoings?  Seems like a pretty tall order, but my instructor has been there, and I’m sure I will learn alot from his example.  My instructor’s name is Job.

Funny, it never dawned on me to study Job, I mean like really read the whole story, until a ranting phone convo with Mama after the challenging Thanksgiving season.  Mama shared with me how her friend, who’s been suffering a long time with illness after illness, studies the book of Job whenever she feels at her lowest, and how the story encourages and lifts her spirit.

Allow me to go back a month to share how my drop began…

Remember the 6-month waiting period…the big month of November ‘08…is it cancer or not?  Well, I’ve got thankful news, and news to watch.  The pre-cancer cells in my womb are now NORMAL (Ahhh!!!  Can everyone say Thank God right there!!!!).  Oh how I wanted to really take my time and write about that experience, but life’s been too busy, so I have to go cliff notes for now .

The news to watch?  The same visit I get that great news, the doc tells me they’ve found polyps in another area of my womb, and that they’d like to schedule early ‘09 surgery.

OK…they clearly didn’t get the memo.  I explain to the doc that I don’t do surgeries well, and how wacked out anesthesia awareness is.  She understood, and offered surgery with an epidural to make sure I didn’t feel any pain.  Huh?  Man, last time I had one of those, birthing daughter, I almost broke hubby’s hand off lol.

So, back to the rollercoaster dip…

With this new news, my spirit just dropped.  Surgery?  This was too much.  Straight drama.  And for what?  Been in near perfect health my entire life, had a healthy womb that didn’t crash until I had to face my demons.  I became so angry at it all, went through all the ‘why did this happen’, ‘why did that happen’..till…I got even sicker, and my face broke BACK out .  When I recognized what I was doing…thinking, feeling, and took action to slowly readjust my thoughts, guess what…I started feeling better, and my face cleared up!  And herein lies my rollercoaster lesson….When you blame and harbor anger and bitterness, every cell in your body (esp. the womb) listens, responds, creates accordingly.  How many times will I have to cross this bridge, before I burn it?  All this junk was addressed in therapy…2 years of working my healing.  I can’t afford to go backwards, BUT…doctors weren’t talking surgery and cancer this and that back then either.

So, me and Job are gonna spend some quality time together..as well as some other readings I’ll be sharing in a few.  Yes, thoughts can still be trained and re-trained…even the ones that seem renegade.

And now, I’ll leave you with words that totally rock me…from my instructor Job (paraphrased in 1st person):

“…after losing my wealth and all of my children, still, I worshiped God, and not once did I blame Him, nor charge Him with any wrongdoing.“

The Love You Need

Well folks, it’s been a loooong six month wait.  A wait that ends this week with round 2 tests at the doc’s.  I’m in cool spirits, with confidence in the Love I love….

—–

Krystal watches her from the waist up.  A trepid view of her at work between two knees. Gentle was good, painless divine.  Determined to interpret every wrinkle in her forehead, every squint of her eyes, she gave Krystal nothing to wrap her wits around.  Not until that moment.  The moment that shattered silence into a million pieces on the exam room floor.

Somehow, even before the first word left the doctor’s lips, Krystal knew.  After today, she would never be the same again.

Life had taught Krystal many things.  When it comes to words…the ones that warm the ears, prick the heart, and rock the soul…sometimes the position one is in, at that moment, heightens the very intensity and relevance of the words spoken.

Snapping off the left, then the right latex glove, Dr. Harmon smiles and lays it on her.  “Mrs. Ashe, you have got to make sure…you get the love you need.”

As if all the air had been sucked out of the room, Krystal couldn’t breathe, let alone speak.  How do you respond to something like that? “Okay” seemed inadequate, almost juvenile.  “I will” felt utterly ridiculous.

“…the love you need.”

Like reams of Polaroids scattered in her mind, Dr. Harmon’s words were worth a thousand pictures.  Nine hundred and ninety-nine of them told tales of toil, near hits distracted by attractive counterfeits, scenes of searching for even the slightest resemblance of love — neatly packaged with Krystal’s name affixed to the label.

Beyond that batch of madness, one Polaroid remained.  The first one ever taken.  Still under-developed in a film of dark grey, waiting patiently to be fanned and shaken.

“…the love you need.”

Krystal didn’t need her legal training to see it.  She clearly recognized the inherit assumptions supporting Dr. Harmon’s statement.  Get the love I need?  Heck, do I even believe the love I need exists?  And if it does, does it cry out for me, does it need me as much as I need it?

As if her thoughts had echoed to the grave, Krystal could hear Grandma Josephine, as clear as the days she sat in her Big Mama chair with her light blue house dress, rubbing her feet together.

“It?!  Chile, donchu mean Him?  If you believe in God, you believe in Love.  God IS Love, baby.”

Somehow, even before the first word left the doctor’s lips, Krystal knew.  She would never be the same again, not after fanning and shaking the first and last Polaroid.  Krystal realized — her last and only real hope had been waiting first in line.

(c) 2008.  Ashe.Selah

The Secret Keeper

At first, I took offense to his words. I was 30+ pounds heavier at the time, so I guess my head went right to the thighs and booty. (I kinda miss my old booty, but I digress lol). I didn’t show my offense, of course. Struggled hard to keep from wrinkling both the left and right eyebrows. For one, he was Daddy, and respect was first nature — not second. Plus, Daddy’s words always had this underlying meaning. A punchline you never saw coming when it punched you. You never really knew where he was going, until YOU got there. Yeah, we’re nothing alike, right lol?

“You’re gonna have the heaviest casket in the family.”

I don’t remember if he asked me something, and I replied, “sorry, can’t tell ya” or what. But when I realized he meant my ability to take “business” to the grave, from that day on, I knew how serious Daddy was about me being the family “secret keeper”.

I’d hear him on the phone with my siblings, talking about personal issues. He’d say, “Look, what you need to do is tell {my name} your business. She can hold water…you know I can’t. She’ll tell you what you should do, and she’ll never tell me or anybody else.”

I still to this day consider this one of the best compliments Daddy ever gave me. Only now, the more I work on my book, I’m wondering how long I’ll be able to hold the title…

Some of the scenes in the book are shifting. Time shifting. Say, where there was a flash back, I think I need to bring the reader into it present tense..and vice versa. I’ve also been doing some heavy research for the doctor character in the book, yeah, i.e. therapist. Being that I have no formal training in psychology, psychotherapy, counseling, and the like, I want this character to really know her stuff. She must be as awesome and dynamic as another character will need her to be…

Funny. Guess what? This is my 201st post here at Ashe.Selah, my anonymous footprint in the blogosphere, where I tell magnanimous secrets. How crazy. Who’dve thunk I’d still be here in ‘08, that anybody anywhere would give a hoot about my life and thoughts. Oops, I digressed again, didn’t I.

So, here I am researching characters, and I’m uncovering myself. Finding answers and reasons for this intense desire to disclose, come out of hiding with all my junk (even if I’m cloaked in a pseudonym). Man, what happened to that secret-keepin’, heavy casket chic?

Well, she kinda stumbled upon the mental, emotional, psychological benefits of — Writing. Let’s be clear folks, before stuff hit the fan, I wasn’t a diarist, a journalist, no pad and pen beside my bed. I had zero desire to write, not alone a passion. Fast forward to the present…I’m blogging, writing a book. Where’d that come from? Why did I gravitate to writing, of all things?

And lordy, don’t talk content. The secrets I’ve held for a lifetime wrapped neatly in fiction. The book I wish someone would have handed me when I was reaching up to scratch the bottom. Because I’ve gone through such a butt-naked transformation lol, I get lectured all the time….”there’s a difference between transparency, and uncovering” or “tell this part, but don’t tell that part.” No, I don’t want to do all the work it takes to write a book, and end up regretting it cos I “told too much” or someone says “uh huh, I know you were talking about me/them.” Truth is….I care, I don’t want to hurt anybody (esp. family)…..but I just don’t care enough to keep it bottled up inside anymore. The Great Secret Keeper…is fading fast….I dunno…

For now, I’m really digging Pennebaker’s research…why do we keep secrets, how do we categorize secrets, how does secret-keeping affect our stress levels, our health? I believe there’s some truth to the positive correlation between writing about traumatic or emotional experiences, and mental and physical health.

Who was that chic that said, “Secrets are like kisses. Feels better when you give them away.” Cover your ears up there, Daddy. It was…Me. Ashe.Selah

Cyclops or Four-Eyes

OK..so this post is all chopped up, as I’ve been stabbing it, hit or miss, for the past three days..content aging…thoughts changing. Try to work with the randomness…….

The verdict is in…doc says I have a small tear on the cornea. So I’m home for about 4 days workin’ the bacterial drops and sportin’ the coke bottles that I love to hate. If I wanna venture outdoors (which I can do, now that I can handle sunlight)….it’s really a choice of the lesser of two evils…kick it as a cyclops in one contact lens, or sport the specs. Let’s just say, if I squint the healing eye, cyclops really isn’t that bad .

Since I’ve been on the bum…a hard chill mode for the past couple of days, I think I’ll ramble a bit without agenda…

Hmm….hubby is feeling better after experiencing the dark side of the sun last weekend. Cutting the yard when the sun is at its peak will introduce you to dehydration, a nice ambulance ride, and an IV prick that’ll sting for days. He bounced back by the evening, thank goodness. Yeah, it’s been a trip week at our house.

The next morning after the hospital drama, I got up and made everyone strawberry pancakes. Now, I’ll admit, hubby is the ultimate cook in the house. But Mama picked up the slack while he was on his back. While me and daughter prepared the batter, we found the loveliest strawberry in the wwworld in the batch…almost a shame to eat it (but we did). Daughter knows me, and before I could make a move, she says, “ooh, get the camera” lol. Isn’t it lovely *smile*?

The ‘A’ has been having some pretty treacherous storms lately. We found this blocking half of the driveway when we got home from the hospital. Last week, the kiddos and I got a work out in the yard…breaking and bagging limbs, etc. I can see and feel why they call yard work — exercise.

Has anybody seen the summer? Last I heard it was thumbing a ride 75-S to FLA. Man, if I were a kid, I’d be hot as McDonald’s grease right about now…and not just because of the hot weather. I literally blinked and summer was gone. We were the worst-but-doing-our-best parents this year….yeah last minute school shopping was the name of the game. But it was fun watching the kids assemble all of their supplies for their bookbags. Anything “new” and “mine” excites them. I’m pleased with the teachers we met at open house…Son has his 1st male teacher for 5th grade….something we think he’s needed since 1st grade lol…he’s excited and so are we.  When I met Daughter’s teachers, the 7th grade head said, “So you’re Daughter’s mom?!”  (Remember, I was, for the most part, m.i.a. last year working and caring for Dad)  “Oh, I just want to tell you, Mom, you’re doing such a great job with Daughter…very well-mannered…she’s making you proud.”  Well, how ’bout them apples lol…Woo hoo!  That’s the best compliment any Mama can get…when teacher wants to meet or know “who is Her/His Mama?”

Ok..all for now.  Let me try to get my thoughts back on track…there’s so much more going on…inside & out….:)

Moving Forward, Waiting For Reverse

What lies behind me, calls before me. Only bigger and better.

Better. I love the sound of that. It’s been a min since I’ve done a health update. Sometimes, not talking about stuff gives you that well-deserved reprieve from the facts, while you do your very best to invest energy into the Truth. Truth is….there is a healed and whole “me” I’m catching up to….mind, body, and Spirit. We’re very close to each other…I can feel it . I cannot find words to explain how I long for “us” to stand in the same place and time…..in purposed Time.

Facts? I’m in what I found out last week is called the “waiting period”. Are the cells gonna keep turning left or veer right?

I mentioned after the 4th that I was gonna try a new health regimen. I’m actually on day four today. Decided against massive doses of hormones…ugh….and now I’m taking crisis doses of cell food. Huh?

I’ve decided to address my health at the root…the cellular level, and give glyconutrients a try. Glyconutrients are dietary supplements made from plants that contain essential sugars needed for optimal cell-to-cell communication. Miracle cure? Nah. But with the declining nutritional value of our food supply, hey, why not give my cells a boost with with pure, natural cell food. It costs a grip, but it’s better than my alternatives. So, here’s to the next 4mos of waiting, watching, and praying….while my cells eat right….a powder plus 16-20 pills a day…from antioxidants, to supplements for women “issues”, to intestinal and colon-based supplements. Sounds like fun, huh lol?

When I was in FL planning my new regimen, the family friend asked what was going on…what were some of the diagnoses. While I was able to communicate the word fibroids and other dis-ease within my creative center, when I got to the words pre-c_____ to describe the cells as the doc had, man, I lost it. My throat got tight…I tried so hard not to cry, to be strong and walk this leg of my journey like a champ. Then I remembered, I’m not Superwoman anymore. And I’m not hiding how and what I feel anymore. She said the words for me…..it was like if I said the words I would immediately drop dead (that’s what I felt). It’s just that….6mos ago, I watched that disease consume Daddy from a front row seat…an evil thing, it is. Pre- or not…I don’t want that word near ME…don’t EVER use it in the same sentence with MY name! Not miss never-been-sick before (other than colds/flu, kid stuff like chickpox)…before the world caved in.

I was actually looking at dates recently. When did these cells turn south? My last annual test before May ‘08 was in ‘06…everything was normal, healthly, nothing to report. By the summer/fall of ‘06, I had lost it mentally, emotionally….broke down…and apparently my body began the process of “your wish is my command”.

Some may not get this…but I am where I am in my health because of what I created in my mind, body, and Spirit. No, don’t take that as I’m beating myself up, because I know it was created out of ignorance, I didn’t know how to handle everything I was going through (and would go through in 07 and 08…what a ride). I’m a stubborn chic..relentlessly pursue what I want…and when I decided to die, I put ALL my energy into secret planning and preparations. Ya think my body wasn’t taking notes? It was. Am I writing my book so that others can take away something from my experiences? I am.

I believe God has this big ‘ole eraser lol…He’s given me back my mind, I’m functioning a whole 170 degrees better than those horrible days (a minuscule 10 degrees are under construction..Woohoo!…He’s got those too). What’s worked for the mind can work for the body.  Abnormal cells of unknown origin?….if I can create chaos, don’t I also have the power to create harmony, wellness, and balance?….Is there any mess too big for God, who IS Love, to clean up? Anything too damaged to reverse the harm and make it even better than the former?

For now, I wait. Most times patiently and faithfully. Other times tearfully in doubt and fear. This is all so new, so scary….and I’ve never had to exercise Faith like this before. First week in November, the wait is over…and we’ll see where things are. Regardless, I believe God is able to do what frankly I cannot see…not right now, not yet. Ashe.Selah

Sistine Dreams on a Crayon Budget

I’ve been in this place for a second, a funky place in a small, but important space in my life. Been trying to figure out how to write about it, in a way that honestly describes what I feel, without shooting TMI into the veins of my blog…hmm…let’s see.

I thought about who I’d go to for perspective on this off-kilter feeling, this frustration in which I grapple for shreds of gratitude, nonetheless. One morning last week, the perfect subject came to me — Michelangelo.

So, in my mind, I thrust ‘ole Mike into this nightmare of a place that mirrors my reality…just to see how he’d respond…and better yet, if he came back to ME for advice, what would I tell him?…how would I suggest he deal with it?

And there he sat, as prisoner. A prison more so of circumstance than physical shackles, locks, and bars. See, he’s commissioned once again to paint a masterpiece. Sure, he still identifies more with sculpting (let’s pretend he adores painting just as much), but after the Sistine Chapel, he has an intimate knowledge of creating visual masterpieces, of reaching heights in his craft that very few people achieve in a lifetime. He’s excited about the project, spent years of time and money in preparation. But, with the final budget Pope-approved, and the perfect crew assembled, a debilitating disease cripples his hands. He still has movement, but overall, he’s heartbroken. “But, hey, don’t worry Mike. In lieu of the masterpiece, here’s an 8ct. box of crayons with red, yellow, green, blue, brown, black, orange and purple. Just do what you can, it’ll still be a masterpiece, because it’s Michelangelo.”

The Michelangelo in me is screaming, “what?!”

I am filled with creative energy. A woman with deep thoughts, feelings, and a vivid imagination (can u tell?). In this space of reference, I’ve created masterpieces to behold, magnetic works of art with a connect that warms the heart, mind, body and soul…brush strokes where every bristle massages vibrant colors into the skin of the canvas, the vibrations of which I am truly one with….

So, maybe I’m spoiled in the fact that I get high off the grandiose I’ve known and loved, and 99 1/2 isn’t good enough for me to give. I want the masterpiece…not just a piece of what I’ve mastered. But, my hands are challenged right now. And herein lies the dilemma…how do I, having created and achieved levels of masterpiece, appreciate the simplicity of crayons?

Man, if I could’ve lived this anecdote last week, I’m sure I would have thrown that Crayola box across the room in a tirade. A sistah had had it lol. But, slowly, my Spirit is humbling, as God compels me to approach this thing differently. I wanna pick up the crayons I’ve scattered here and there, the ones I tried to step on and break…take a good look at them…rethink this thing…choose again. Umm, Ms. Creative, is your collection of paint colors and brushes the only way to create a masterpiece? Have I boxed my masterpiece into this one-dimensional thing…when I have the power to create limitless expressions beauty? Could I create something beautiful simply with the colors of the rainbow? Hmm…

What would I say to Mike (me)? Sometimes we miss the beauty in the journey of creating..the beginning, the in between, worried about the final product. Sometimes we forget how things could be worse, and how there are people who have learned to do much more with less. Then, there are others with paints and brushes at their disposal, but zero movement — and vice versa.

In every situation, we are all creators of our own reality, and I can either create frustration, imbalance, or a different kinda masterpiece. Let’s just say, I’m beginning to see my crayons in a whole new, creative light. And with 180 degree thoughts, I really ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Ashe.Selah

Playing Doctor

Ok, so. I had this theory right? Cos I know MY body, and just maybe Ms. Doc, even though you’re a board certified holistic MD, you may be barking up the wrong tree. Let’s see…..When I do X, the symptoms and pain show up automatically. Yeah! Maybe it’s X…stop doing X for a minute and see if the symptoms and pain go away. This way, I won’t have to take those icky pills.

Dontcha just hate smart, know it all people. I told ya’ll I’ve been this way from a child, smart(alic) in more ways than two lol. Yeah, I stopped X and the symptoms came back anyway this week. I thought the evidence was so clear. But I wasn’t asked to think. They did ask me to get on high doses of hormone therapy, allow it to alter my body’s natural functions, and if the symptoms go away in the process, they’ll kindly diagnose me with something that has no medical cure. Alrightie, woo hoo…sign me up! Yeah right….what the? What kinda jacked up plan is that, doc?

Since I’m outta theories and test plans, doggone it, I guess I’ll be (re)starting the regimen tonight. I gave it my best fight (ie. resistance). Need I say how ticked off I am right now. I’m battling hard for the sake of balance and a positive attitude…right this sec, all I have is attitude, and thus the vent.  But I maintain a brewing passion to help others see how emotional pain can and does attack the physical, in this season as a poster child .

I was balled up in bed this morning with the heating pad. Gotta call from hubby. We may be getting a visit this weekend from the last person on the planet I ever ever want to see again. Yeah them….folks, when it rains, sometimes it pours.

Oh Lord, I wish they would go away (how do you make family go away, just one person, but keep their children and siblings in fellowship, huh?…answer me that!). A sistah just doesn’t need this right now. And as I started feeling angst about them being in my presence, perhaps even coming to my house, an overwhelming fear came over me. Now hold up…wait a min! I’m not ’bout to let n-e-body make me fearful in my own house….where I pay bills (see my neck and eyes rolling lol?). I already gotta take those pills…this may be the wrong time for them to fool with me lol. My angst is turning to anger, and I feel old Washington Park (my ‘hood) rising up in me. I thought to myself, “I could just haul off and kick their arse and get it over with….swing first, talk later!” But what could I physically do to them that would give me back thirty plus years? What could I strike them with hard enough that would erase the pain and influence their crap had on me? God, why can’t I just forgive them from afar…why you gotta let them come into my space?

Yeah, I hear You…I don’t like it right now, but I hear You..and I will submit. There’s a healing and a level of forgiveness for me that I’m catching up to…it already exists NOW, I’m on my way to it….where I can be in the same room, and it won’t even matter to me anymore. I won’t feel the anger, pain, sadness, shame….and neither will my physical body be in an uproar about it either. Total healing. Total wholeness….from the Great Physician who never loses a patient. He hasn’t lost me yet….in the meantime, I’m grateful for the promise. In between time, I vent.