Helping Women Survivors of War Rebuild Their Lives | Women for Women International

Helping Women Survivors of War Rebuild Their Lives | Women for Women International.

scheduled for an MRI at 11:45

Having nothing to do with hoarding, other than I am hoping to have a copy of the images to help with scientific illustration, I am scheduled for an MRI at 11:45 today.

I am very curious about the results.

That is all for now.

Waiting to see what is going on in there …

If I were brave …

What do you see?

I am still in a prone position.

I was feeling much less hideous today, and so after my kids both got off to school (late I might add and with the helpof my son’s teacher -thank you Penny) I decided I should deal with the kitchen at least moderately. I found that in standing long enough, just to go to the bathroom and get ready to do dishes my left side from lower back to the tip of my toes became numb, cold and painful. Somewhat dejectedly, I have returned to my recliner.

Backing up, for a moment, I should say that I have had some very lovely offers of help. My house, however, is keeping me from accepting the offers. In much the same way that I am  too terrified to post more than isolated snippets of  the inside of my house, I am also entirely horrified of letting anyone in the door. I am afraid I will prove once and for all, that I am not worthy, that I am too screwed up to coexist with people I call friends and people I don’t know. This is all under the surface, of course. It doesn’t usually sit on top of my psyche trying to suffocate me. When I am home and not drugged into submission, it pops up and extends tendrils of doubt and self loathing deep into my being. These are the entries that take so long. The ones about more than stuff, more than learned behavior of hanging onto things for a rainy day. I suppose now is as good a time as any to explore the depths of my psyche, not much else to do. I suppose, this is my upside. I am always looking for one.

I have expected myself to be perfect for as long as I can remember. I have, of course, never been able to live up to that expectation. In some kind of internal and cosmic scale, it seems the better I do in one area (career, for example, or general perception by others of me) the worse I will do in another (hoarding, cleaning, organizing). Perhaps the correlation here is mythic, and not real, another way to defeat myself. I live so awfully much in my head it is hard to tell sometimes what is really going on. It does seem like there is an integral core in my make up that is self defeating that is constantly fighting with the other core that wants to excel, become exceptional and successful. They battle always and I’m never sure who is winning. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in the middle and not at either end. If I can let go of my expectation of perfection perhaps that will allow me some faith, some ability to admit that I am not sufficient for everything on my own. I need other people. I need there help, their love, their kindness, forgiveness, their general humanity.

I would never expect another human being to act as their own mircrocosmos, self sufficient in every way.  Why then, do I expect that from myself? Perhaps if I free some of myself up from feeling like I must be responsible for everything I am involved in or for the needs of my family, I can feel better about not being able to provide everything, or change everything. I can let go of some of the crap I carry around, both psychologically and physically.

If you were wondering about the potato flower, I was wondering what you noticed first and in the most lasting kind of way about it? do you notice: beauty, missing bits, the bug crawling on it,  the leaves, the potato it will become? Everyone will most likely see it and remember it differently. Perception is channeled through our filters we can’t help that. We can, I can, be more aware of the filters and how they effect and affect my view.

If I were brave, I would admit, that this is not a great way to live and that not only do my children deserve more, not more actually, but better, and that I do as well. We are all worthy of living in a house that is homey, that freinds can come to at a moment’s notice without horrifying me. I should like to have enoough faith in setting personal boundaries that I can protect myself with the strength of my will and convictions, and not just with the depth of my stuff. 

If I were brave, I would take up more of the offers of help. It is not only my house that is stopping me, but my perception of weakness if I do. I suspect I may be here for long enough to get brave, to learn about the strength and pwer of not being perfect and accepting help without feeling diminished.

A Period of Indefinite Confinement

 

I saw my neurologist today.
He told me I need to be on 99% bed rest, where I am flat on my back. He is in the process of ordering an (emergency) MRI to see what, exactly, is going on with my back. Depending on the MRI results either some amount of bed rest will be the cure, or I will need to be referred to a spinal neurology specialist  for back surgery.
The upside is that I was working on some scientific illustration (actually more of a logo with a scientific bent) for a friend of mine while I was waiting for my appointment, The doctor saw them and liked them and now I will get copies of my MRI for illustrative purposes! Always an up side.
I will continue to post, but my posts will most likely be sporadic and possibly somewhat incomprehensible as I am currently taking a muscle relaxer and a pain killer.
Posts will most likely be about process, about figuring this all out, as even getting up to go to the bathroom, briefly is incredibly uncomfortable. I suppose I need to put more time into this end of things anyway.