disability as a prelude to blessings??!!

 I am halfway through an audiobook The Boys in the Boat, about rowing in Seattle nearly one hundred years ago.  It details the lives of young men preparing for the 1936 Olympics. One student found summer work as a logger and relayed his experiences toiling alongside a disabled WW1 veteran. The vet's vocal cords were, due to the war, almost nonexistent yet he commanded his logging horses in an effectual whisper as opposed to the  shouting that all of the other men used. 

The story tells of how this disability actually assisted him, that his horses would pull harder for him than any other logger, due to this seeming gentleness of speech. I abhor the animal slavery business yet was moved by this account. My focus remained on the disabled man and how he continued on with his work, doing what no other could.

I can only wonder what he was like before his disability. I have a friend who, after her stroke, moved and spoke in an entirely different manner after the incident. Because of this change, animals viewed her as much less threatening and a timid cat became her friend, when no other person could approach that cat. 

What are the so-called gifts of any disability? My own battle with Lyme disease served to change my eating habits for the better. And I had previously never been able to drink water without throwing it up or at least feeling horribly nauseated. One of my 'assignments' from my Lyme doctor was to drink as much water as possible. It was a difficult task.  But, after two years of dedication to it, I succeeded and find myself with a new and important freedom -I can drink water with nothing added to it (whereas before, I had to add a splash of something to disguise the 'taste') and for that I am so very grateful!

-GG

Dealing with pain of all kinds

 

I have vacillated between believing that physical pain is preferable to mental pain. After a recent bout with pain that, if asked at the ER, would have registered as a 10, I have changed my mind.

Neither are wonderful in the least bit.  And if and when they come in pairs, my only consolation is that it cannot possibly last for forever.

Yet, I have dealt with both for decades now, with only a brief respite of the mental pain. The physical pain is so persistent that it is fully part of my body. I try, in vain, to imagine what a completely healed body would feel like. I think back to childhood, when I was able to do pretty much anything, pain-free.  I do have those clear memories but still cannot imagine having a pain-free day with my 58-year-old body.

Pain is supposed to be a gift - a signal to help us stay alive as humans. Once we feel pain, we know that part of our body is communicating an essential message -that it needs attention.  I have learned to ignore those clear messages. But the pain itself is still very much present. I "work through it" in order to accomplish daily tasks. Or to do things that bring me joy and fulfillment.  It sometimes seems a pretty high price to pay.

Below is an interesting quote from C.S. Lewis about pain as it relates to coping with society.  Thousands of folks with invisible disabilities must, until we as a culture gain more education and compassion, continually deal with doubters, well-meaning yet ignorant friends, and policies that completely leave us out.

 “Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”
― C.S. Lewis

I disagree with his notion that mental pain is less dramatic. I can remember the drama of smashing my head through a window, which I often did in years past, due to mental pain. But his assertion that the burden is greatly increased is spot-on.  Would that we could all grow to be open and feel safe about revealing our inner selves.

-GG

A stranger's love message makes a huge difference

 I had, only ten minutes before, sopped my handkerchief with tears after a very difficult visit with my dementia-inflicted father.

My car was now in the local fix-it garage getting attended to and I was blowing time walking Main Street of the town I lived last year. Paper hearts clung to every storefront window. Knowing that Valentine's Day had just occurred, I ignored them. But as I was looking past one, into a closed shop, wishing I could go in and browse, I focused on the heart. It had words of encouragement and care on it. I looked at the others and they all spoke of dozens of creators who hoped their message might be seen by someone in need of a lift.

It is difficult to put into words just how affected I was by these multiple gifts. I was much distressed, exhausted, and feeling lost. It is awful to have one's father believe his daughter is his deceased wife and have him act on it. But after dealing with that nasty hour, I was now being showered with words of comfort. I will never know who wrote them, never know if others were helped, as I was, by these bits of paper. I can tell you, though, that should you ever decide to leave similar random messages for strangers, you may be providing them with an extremely potent bit of soul nourishment.

-GG

Self-care vs cat care

 As a cat devotee, I do all I can for my furry ones. Millions of other pet owners do the same.

As I have been paying attention lately to how much care I give to myself, I have become alarmed at the lack of attention I give to the head of the household- me. If I do not honor myself and my needs to the extent I do for my pets, I am in danger of crushing the very foundation I work so hard to build for the four-legged family. If I become exhausted injured, or in a depressive funk, how will my pets thrive?

I have begun to slowly change my ways. In spite of a pitiable look from my cat who seeks yet more attention, I tell her aloud that I need to talk a walk, read a book, do my physical therapy, meditate. It is very difficult to turn away from them in order to provide my own self with that much-needed care.

The other day, my hands, after constant washing, became so chapped that they were bleeding. Yet I refrained from using lotion because when I reach out to my cats, they are repelled by the fragrance (even though I use fragrance-free stuff!) and I can't stand that gesture of rejection or that offense to their precious noses.  My compromise is now to coat my hands only at bedtime, after I have given them all their final petting. In this way, everyone is happy and my skin is recovering.

My goal is to find more compromises during the day, to focus on my own needs in a way that prevents guilt and that supports the leader of the pack.

-GG

An unexpected quote

 

About three quarters of the way through the audiobook The Wright Brothers, a quote came up that delighted me as much as the marvelous historical accounts of the struggles and successes of early flight.

Wilbur and Orville's father Milton wrote to his son after a bad crash of the plane. He said, "We learn much by tribulation and by adversity, our hearts are made better." Of course, I have heard dozens of such inspirational/wise phrases over the years but they were always on a support website or other places where I would expect them to be. Thus, I did not pay attention to them in the way I did, suddenly, when this quote came up in the book.

It is interesting how a person can be affected by something based solely upon when and how they encounter it. I had, for many hours, 'come to know' the Wright family through the book, which includes a wonderful collection of their letters and diary entries. I was much affected by the Big Crash which injured Orville quite badly. I imagined the body and emotional pain he endured. My own emotional and body pain has been spread out over decades but his came all at once. When I heard the narrator read Milton's quote, my ears and heart were open and I absorbed it unlike any other time I had been granted yet another 'hang in there' quote.

I have indeed learned much by tribulation. And adversity has made my heart better, made me reach out to help others because I could understand their  adversity and by helping them, I eased my own somewhat.  

It was a mini reset button for me to hear the wonderful quote, unexpected, in a library audiobook.

- GG

Why I am happy about the spider in my bedroom

 I have not always been enamored by spiders. I had some interest in the wolf spiders in the hay barn where I played as a child, but had a healthy respect for them and did not get very near.

As an adult, I appreciate all life, human or otherwise and do what I can to keep them safe from harm. This attitude alone has caused me to learn a bit more about those critters who I might encounter on a daily basis.

We all know that spiders are very helpful in eating other bugs who we don't much welcome but do you know just how many?  A spider can consume, according to discoverwildlife.com, hundreds of insects in one day. Tired of dealing with the flies that go up your nose every time you try to put something in your countertop compost bucket? Rely on that spider in the corner to deal with it. No need to fear her or do her any harm.

I have a spider in my shower that I look for before turning on the water. He is sometimes on the actual tub floor and it would break my heart if he were accidentally washed down the drain. Normally, he is in a high corner. Just this week, he disappeared and I miss him. He was 'company' as I took my shower.

The one in the photo here lives in my bedroom. Never seems to go anywhere. I am sure she is in her winter torpidity, waiting for warmer weather, when she will become more active and eat more. She can go for a very long time without a meal. My cats become interested if she moves but are more prone to watch the darker ones, more easily seen. I am thankful that they do not go after them. It makes me sad to see any predator harass another creature, even though it is part of Nature.

I am no expert so don't know what sex any of them are and do not care. I respect them, marvel at their beauty and abilities, and really do appreciate them just being there. If they never ate any 'pests,' I would still welcome them wholeheartedly.

-GG

Icy resilience

 

On my walk after a recent cold snap, I got down close to the earth (well, close to the stream) to marvel at the formations. In many instances, green grass shoots appeared in the midst of frosty patterns. Green!  And I always associated winter green with pine trees and the like.

I captured dozens of images of feathery bits, each more lovely than the last.

My cheeks and nose protested in the wind but it was all good.

I felt both envy and respect for the grasses that appeared just fine, embedded in the ice. Why could I not be that strong? I concluded that the human brain is often just as much a hindrance as a miracle. It is my PTSD wiring that keeps me from living fully. From thriving in 'ice.' From just being.

In the end, I fell back on my gratitude list, the first being that I have the capacity to enjoy what I encounter in Nature. I am also lucky to have a working camera that can capture these images which I can then view in the comfort of my own home, without being encumbered by 5 layers of jackets. 

-GG

Mesmerizing shadows

 I was much rewarded after deciding, in spite of my depression, to get out of the house. I walked to the upper fields in search of anything lovely to counterbalance the trials of daily life.

I was most impressed by the shadows and the deep blues and purples of them. Although it was high noon when I ventured out, the winter sun was low in the south, as usual.

The perfect heart, created by a bent briar stem, was my favorite.

I also marveled at a dried bracken stem with seed bits that cast a very braid-like shadow.

Many goldenrod flowers gave lovely patterns on the sparkling snow.

At one point, I found myself laughing so hard.  There was a perfect shadow from a dried weed but the view of it was interrupted by the dangling over of the plant itself.  With the mindset of someone who cannot find their cellphone and decides to text themselves in order to find it (!) I began to reach out to pull that weed out of the way, only to suddenly understand that the very shadow I wished to photograph would go with it!

The temperature was hovering around zero and I felt my toes going numb, but with each new discovery, it was very easy to become absorbed in the beauty and completely forget my discomfort.

I loved seeing the details of each thorn from a wild rose bush.

As I neared the end of my walk, I realized that I  had focused on only the small shadows and that before my lay a hundred feet of beauty. It was as if I 'could not see the forest for the trees.'

About fifty yards from my home, where my cats awaited my return, looking out the window at Crazy Mama, out in those frigid temps, I took my last picture. A shadow, combined with tiny mouse footprints, proved that I was not the only one to venture out on this lovely winter day.

-GG