Prompt: Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?
I received some lovely gifts throughout the year. I prefer to give gifts rather than receive - I rarely like the attention that receiving a gift can bring. I prefer siting back and watching someone open a gift - the excitement, the pleasure, the chuftness of it. I enjoy planning and shopping for gifts for others. I like getting an idea for one and hunt for signs or clues as to whether or not the intended recipient will like it or not.
I emember viewing a socia anthropology film in Society class in high school, that broached the topic of giving. They examined a pacific tribe in which the act of giving is a community pass time. A large handmade pot sits mounted on a pedestal. Always adorned with fresh flowers etc. The pot never stays long in one place. It is constantly in motion, a symbol of the pride and community spirit of this tribe. The pot exits to be given. This tribe holds the act of giving much more esteemed than receiving. Once received, the receiver gets the pot for a period of time during which they become the giver and ponder who in the village they will give the pot to. Much thought is valued and weighed as giving the pot to someone begins a new partnership.
I wish I could remember the film's name so I could see it again.
I love love love spoiling E. There is nothing more wonderful then seeing the look of surprise and then glee he gets whenever I buy him something. E is more of a do-er - he likes to do things for people, makes him feel useful.
I took a friend shopping recently and also reserved at first, she really got into it. So much fun.
I have no clue why I love giving, but I have been doing so much of my adult life. I don't intend to stop. It brings me so much joy, so much fulfillment
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 29
Prompt: Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
Besides the obvious?
When I realized that returning to MSH ER was more than likely out of the question. I'd had an inkling for a while, but refused to admit it. One visit to the the ER earlier in the year, I'd sat down with my manager for a chat and had steered the topic towards my return to work. She seemed slow to reply and said that it would have to be done via Occupational health and to do so two months before I wanted to return. Something in her tone - it was flat, guarded. Not encouraging. At this point I thought I could return a year to the day of my accident. I was working hard to do so. After the summer surgery in July I realized that October wasn't likely given how slow I was to recover. Early fall I saw my manager at a retirement party for one of the senior nurses. We'd had a great chat and I told her I would be taking longer than I had previously thought I would. She had half smiled and told me to take all the time I needed, and that no one expected anything more.
In November I was able to face the truth. It still rips me to shreds but hopefully I'll find something else to do. The heartbreak and pain just doesn't stop in this recovery.
Besides the obvious?
When I realized that returning to MSH ER was more than likely out of the question. I'd had an inkling for a while, but refused to admit it. One visit to the the ER earlier in the year, I'd sat down with my manager for a chat and had steered the topic towards my return to work. She seemed slow to reply and said that it would have to be done via Occupational health and to do so two months before I wanted to return. Something in her tone - it was flat, guarded. Not encouraging. At this point I thought I could return a year to the day of my accident. I was working hard to do so. After the summer surgery in July I realized that October wasn't likely given how slow I was to recover. Early fall I saw my manager at a retirement party for one of the senior nurses. We'd had a great chat and I told her I would be taking longer than I had previously thought I would. She had half smiled and told me to take all the time I needed, and that no one expected anything more.
In November I was able to face the truth. It still rips me to shreds but hopefully I'll find something else to do. The heartbreak and pain just doesn't stop in this recovery.
Reverb#10 - Day 28
Prompt: Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 27
Prompt: Ordinary joy. Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?
Friday, December 24, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 25
Prompt: Photo - a present to yourself. Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.
Reverb 10 - Day 24
Prompt: Everything's OK. What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?
A while ago I was pretty low. Very down, sad, angry. I did something I shouldn't have and then panicked and phoned a friend. Someone I knew would understand my thoughts and would be able to talk me through. A kindred spirit.
She did that and more. This was the first time I had called someone when I was truely low. She came through for me. Restored my faith in my friends. My faith has been so shaken this year. But there are some who have stayed with me throughout all this and for them I am truely thankful.
I am going to remember who they are. So if this ever happens again, I will know I don't have to be alone. An upturn in an otherwise downward spiral.
A while ago I was pretty low. Very down, sad, angry. I did something I shouldn't have and then panicked and phoned a friend. Someone I knew would understand my thoughts and would be able to talk me through. A kindred spirit.
She did that and more. This was the first time I had called someone when I was truely low. She came through for me. Restored my faith in my friends. My faith has been so shaken this year. But there are some who have stayed with me throughout all this and for them I am truely thankful.
I am going to remember who they are. So if this ever happens again, I will know I don't have to be alone. An upturn in an otherwise downward spiral.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 22
Prompt: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?
Due to my recovery we haven't traveled much. We went up to my dad's house many times, just to get out of the city. He lives in the rolling hills of Moonstone, just N of Barrie. His lot faces a small valley which is a great place for the dog. We brought Higgins up when he was very wee and he loved it. Tearing through the long grass at the back of the property, running around the lawn, chasing small animals. A dog's life!
Our first Vacation was to BC for a wedding. I've already posted about it earlier in the blog. It was pure magic. A perfect two weeks.
In January E and I are headed to Mexico. The in Feb I am going to the Western coast of Mexico with my mum and sista for a yoga retreat at an eco-lodge. I'm imagining it will be a riot.
Then in June we are headed to Portland for ten days.
So some plans, nothing epic, simply a short break with my family. Perfect.
Due to my recovery we haven't traveled much. We went up to my dad's house many times, just to get out of the city. He lives in the rolling hills of Moonstone, just N of Barrie. His lot faces a small valley which is a great place for the dog. We brought Higgins up when he was very wee and he loved it. Tearing through the long grass at the back of the property, running around the lawn, chasing small animals. A dog's life!
Our first Vacation was to BC for a wedding. I've already posted about it earlier in the blog. It was pure magic. A perfect two weeks.
In January E and I are headed to Mexico. The in Feb I am going to the Western coast of Mexico with my mum and sista for a yoga retreat at an eco-lodge. I'm imagining it will be a riot.
Then in June we are headed to Portland for ten days.
So some plans, nothing epic, simply a short break with my family. Perfect.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 21
Prompt: Future self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)
Five years from now, erm. 2015, at the dawn of 2016. I'll be 38. Hoo boy.
Interestingly enough this prompt comes on an interesting night. The total lunar eclipse is just winding down. It was beautiful. The moon was this reddish brown colour, we could see it flickering between red, bronze and brown. My dog went nuts at totality, running around in the snow, back and forth, chasing something only he could see. Dogs and the moon. Something to that, it seems.
The last lunar eclipse I witnessed was in 2001 on Paradise Beach, just outside of Gorkana, SW India. One state south of Goa. Fresh off the holiday season madness that befalls Goa, my friends and I had ventured south to Gorkana, in search of chill beaches, chiller charis and a group of friends we had last seen in Diu. Dawn, a rad Californian had found us in Arambol, Goa at some point around New Years and had come south with us to meet up with her friends Dave, Nadia and Andy, who had been camping in the Hampi Caves since Xmas. She knew they were headed for Om Beach, a 45 minute hike south over the cliff tops. Om Beach is quite cool. If you stand on the cliffs just North of the beach, the beach is actually two smaller beaches split from each other by a sand bar. From the cliff, the whole beach looks like an OM symbol. We thought it would be chill and peaceful, but the Goa crowd had moved south as well following New Years, and had set up shop on OM Beach for a 3 day psy-trance party. Fueled mostly by the Israeli contingent, who are known to spawn mass migrations towards anywhere quiet and near a beach, usually by hauling the craziest speakers system into the middle of nowhere. How they do it, is a mystery unbeknown-st to us Anglo lot. We arrived at one of the cafes and eventually found Dave, Nads and Andy (DNA). They had word of a quieter beach, Paradise beach, and were heading in that direction, having no interest in partying like it was New Years all over again.
The party was in honour and in awe of an Eclipse, which occurred on the last night of the party. What better way to view an Eclipse than to stay up all night, dancing and thrashing about on the beach while the ocean goes mad. Primal madness at it's best.
We stayed on OM beach for the first night, to take in the vibes and music. India is full of characteurs to begin with. Goa and anywhere involving an Israeli rave has the oddest, sketchiest, craziest characteurs, all who temporarily (or permanently) lose their minds at some point and make the best spectacles of themselves. Maybe the drugs are more potent, maybe the elements work one into a frenzy, maybe a combo of both. Who knows. My friends and I spent the night dancing, sitting, dozing, dancing. We had rented a storage room where 6 of us could dump our bags and sleep on the floor if needed, but the room was to the side of the party so it was like sleeping in the speaker itself.
After one crazy, hilarious and endless night we decided to head for Paradise Beach as well. I joined Dawn in her search for her group DNA, after splitting from Corinna and Annwyn, who were heading back up to Arambol to guesthouse sit for a few weeks.
Another 45 minute hike down the beach and we were there. A quiet craggy beach, nestled next to a large steep rocky outcrop. One shack with one restaurant, and a few basket like huts next to the restaurant. The outhouse was a trench dug into the cliff side (I'm not kidding), and the bottom of said trench was exactly what you think it was. A bed of toilet tissue and rapidly drying waste. How it didn't stink up the beach is another Indian mystery.
I opted to sleep on the beach with a few friends and keep my bag in the shack. My larger rucksack was in a storage locker at a hotel in Gorkana, and I had filled my day bag with what I needed for the next few days. The honour system was highly regarded, as everyone had stuff lying in and around shabby basket huts. Our belongings remained safe. The first night was spent chatting with the other residents of the beach, building campfires, smoking chillums and making plans for the Eclipse.
The next day we swam, ate, smoked, swam, ate, hiked, swam, chatted, smoked etc. The shack did a special Eeekleepse curry with rice and lassis. The Indian guys told us to build our fires further up the beach as the water would get big. We built it almost as high as they had recommended because why would peeps who had lived on these beaches their entire lives and probably seen 5 dozen beach side Eclipses know better than us backpacking folk where to build a fire. Duh.
The sunset was absolutely stunning. Blood red to purple to pink to orange. It lasted for well over an hour, the colour was insane. At one point Nadia looked back to me an mimed "What the Fuck" with big Indian arm gestures. Al I could do was nod in agreement. The sunset was so incredible that all us watching had a group hug to celebrate the fact that our heads didn't explode from what we just witnessed. Incredible.
The eclipse was expected to start at around 12-1230. After sunset we noticed an increase in ocean activity - the waves usually hit the beach with a quiet thump, like a heart beat. This time it was harder, more intense. The tide was excited and the closer it got to the Eclipse beginning, the more frenetic the waves and tidal movement got. Bubbling, crackling, more aggressive in movement. The waves ran longer up the beach, as if to swallow the earth in its path. Our fire was raging by this point, and as it grew, so did the ocean. Soon we were inching up the beach, to the shore side of the fire. All of a sudden a wave hit the beach with a snarling thump and the oceans of water flew the length of the beach, into the side of our fire. We scrambled to get out of the way, as the ocean was claiming whatever was in it's path. The air felt completely electric by this point. Under the full moon he wave caps looked like snowy mountains and avalanches of sea water. As the light dimmed, we could still make out the waves, more of a muted grey. Nadia grabbed my arm and hissed "we're going in." She pulled me towards the water. I barely scrambled out of my clothes before hitting the water. The chill of the water wasn't what made me startle. The water felt alive, as if every droplet was a different entity. We didn't go deep, but sat in the shallows, barely able to take it all in. I had always known the power of the ocean but never felt it, never experienced it in this way before. It crashed around us, merciless, unrelenting, hissing, bubbling, the sea foam dancing all around us.
One of the crazy swedes from the shack swam further out and he told us later the ocean was insane. He literally felt like he was riding a wild animal. Fantastic.
Nads and I left the frothing water, and shimmied back into towels and clothes. The fire by this point had been breached and completely swallowed by the water. Everyone was huddled around a large fire further up ground. Dawn told us later the Indian guys were laughing at us down on the beach and were further entertained by the drowning fire and us "kraaaaaazy" swimmers.
The moon by this point was almost swallowed whole, only a sliver of light could be seen. We could still hear the roar of the ocean, could see the thrashing spitting waves. The fire was a good size and roared back at the ocean. It was truly a natural phenomenon. I fell asleep that night next to the fire, listening to the sounds around me, exhausted by the experience I had witnessed.
The next day I was awoken by the heartbeat of the waves on the beach. Much of the shoreline had been altered slightly, sharper lines in the sand, sand banks were worn down. No driftwood etc. to be seen. Andy returned from the party. It had been nuts over there as well, the music completely bonkers, driving many into a worked up frenzy. More internally charged as opposed to the external show we had seen at our little beach. Quite the Paradise.
We would eventually leave Gorkana and head East to Chennai, where we'd catch the 3 day boat ride to the Andaman Islands. Probably the most incredible experience ever. I'm so grateful I recognized a good thing when I saw it.
Tonight this eclipse was quieter. The dog was the only thing worked up and I wonder how much of that was due in part to his puppiness. I woke Erick just before totality, and he came outside to see it. Cold, clear night outside. Perfect viewing.
My future self's advice to myself for the year ahead: Keep your head in game and don't lose hope. Be kind to yourself. Enjoy the little moments. Love your friends. Be thankful for what you didn't lose and what you have. Change is a given. Rewrite your stars.
My current self's words of wisdom to myself ten years ago: 2000. I was in India. In Diu, Gujarat. Just before the earthquake. About to enjoy a Christmas that I only just connected with some of the participants to remember what a great time that was. A week away from heading south to Goa for NYE, and Gorkana for the Eclipse. although I certainly didn't know it.
Hmmmmmmm. Don't over think things. Enjoy yourself. Make friends, stay in touch. Follow your instincts but don't forget to follow your heart too. Don't worry what if. Things have this funny way of working themselves out.
Ten years ago, almost to the day I had just re-met Nadia in Diu, having first met her in Pushkar. We were all eating at a long table in a restaurant. Corinna and I had just arrived and met up with Chrissy and Co. Dave and Nadia, Dawn and Andy were leaving the next day for Hampi. Nadia came up beside me touched my arm, said "it's good to see you again." I had smiled back and nodded, too shy to say anything else to this adventurer I so wanted to be friends with. Nads told me later she couldn't remember how she'd met me only that I was familiar, quiet, and that she was sad she was leaving because she wanted to know me better.
Connections within connections. In January Erick and I are heading down to Tulum, Mexico to visit Dave and Nadia in their eye shaped casa in the jungle. I love living with them. My only regret in life is not spending more time with them in Manchester, as they really wanted me to stay it seemed. My soul breathren. During my time at Bridgepoint Rehab Dave had seen my Facebook wall posts from concerned peeps and had messaged me. I told him what had happened to me, and he told Nads. They both sent me messages and cards throughout the year, even reminding me of the Hangi we did on the Andamans. Another pair of arms holding us up, supporting Erick and I through a very dark time. We are so lucky to have the friends we do.
We mix Tulum and Tofino up frequently. Both small touristy towns, beautiful, magical, holding so many good memories. Each representing a sister-friend - my Didi in Tulum, and my Banyani in Tofino.
Connections within connections.
Five years from now, erm. 2015, at the dawn of 2016. I'll be 38. Hoo boy.
Interestingly enough this prompt comes on an interesting night. The total lunar eclipse is just winding down. It was beautiful. The moon was this reddish brown colour, we could see it flickering between red, bronze and brown. My dog went nuts at totality, running around in the snow, back and forth, chasing something only he could see. Dogs and the moon. Something to that, it seems.
The last lunar eclipse I witnessed was in 2001 on Paradise Beach, just outside of Gorkana, SW India. One state south of Goa. Fresh off the holiday season madness that befalls Goa, my friends and I had ventured south to Gorkana, in search of chill beaches, chiller charis and a group of friends we had last seen in Diu. Dawn, a rad Californian had found us in Arambol, Goa at some point around New Years and had come south with us to meet up with her friends Dave, Nadia and Andy, who had been camping in the Hampi Caves since Xmas. She knew they were headed for Om Beach, a 45 minute hike south over the cliff tops. Om Beach is quite cool. If you stand on the cliffs just North of the beach, the beach is actually two smaller beaches split from each other by a sand bar. From the cliff, the whole beach looks like an OM symbol. We thought it would be chill and peaceful, but the Goa crowd had moved south as well following New Years, and had set up shop on OM Beach for a 3 day psy-trance party. Fueled mostly by the Israeli contingent, who are known to spawn mass migrations towards anywhere quiet and near a beach, usually by hauling the craziest speakers system into the middle of nowhere. How they do it, is a mystery unbeknown-st to us Anglo lot. We arrived at one of the cafes and eventually found Dave, Nads and Andy (DNA). They had word of a quieter beach, Paradise beach, and were heading in that direction, having no interest in partying like it was New Years all over again.
The party was in honour and in awe of an Eclipse, which occurred on the last night of the party. What better way to view an Eclipse than to stay up all night, dancing and thrashing about on the beach while the ocean goes mad. Primal madness at it's best.
We stayed on OM beach for the first night, to take in the vibes and music. India is full of characteurs to begin with. Goa and anywhere involving an Israeli rave has the oddest, sketchiest, craziest characteurs, all who temporarily (or permanently) lose their minds at some point and make the best spectacles of themselves. Maybe the drugs are more potent, maybe the elements work one into a frenzy, maybe a combo of both. Who knows. My friends and I spent the night dancing, sitting, dozing, dancing. We had rented a storage room where 6 of us could dump our bags and sleep on the floor if needed, but the room was to the side of the party so it was like sleeping in the speaker itself.
After one crazy, hilarious and endless night we decided to head for Paradise Beach as well. I joined Dawn in her search for her group DNA, after splitting from Corinna and Annwyn, who were heading back up to Arambol to guesthouse sit for a few weeks.
Another 45 minute hike down the beach and we were there. A quiet craggy beach, nestled next to a large steep rocky outcrop. One shack with one restaurant, and a few basket like huts next to the restaurant. The outhouse was a trench dug into the cliff side (I'm not kidding), and the bottom of said trench was exactly what you think it was. A bed of toilet tissue and rapidly drying waste. How it didn't stink up the beach is another Indian mystery.
I opted to sleep on the beach with a few friends and keep my bag in the shack. My larger rucksack was in a storage locker at a hotel in Gorkana, and I had filled my day bag with what I needed for the next few days. The honour system was highly regarded, as everyone had stuff lying in and around shabby basket huts. Our belongings remained safe. The first night was spent chatting with the other residents of the beach, building campfires, smoking chillums and making plans for the Eclipse.
The next day we swam, ate, smoked, swam, ate, hiked, swam, chatted, smoked etc. The shack did a special Eeekleepse curry with rice and lassis. The Indian guys told us to build our fires further up the beach as the water would get big. We built it almost as high as they had recommended because why would peeps who had lived on these beaches their entire lives and probably seen 5 dozen beach side Eclipses know better than us backpacking folk where to build a fire. Duh.
The sunset was absolutely stunning. Blood red to purple to pink to orange. It lasted for well over an hour, the colour was insane. At one point Nadia looked back to me an mimed "What the Fuck" with big Indian arm gestures. Al I could do was nod in agreement. The sunset was so incredible that all us watching had a group hug to celebrate the fact that our heads didn't explode from what we just witnessed. Incredible.
The eclipse was expected to start at around 12-1230. After sunset we noticed an increase in ocean activity - the waves usually hit the beach with a quiet thump, like a heart beat. This time it was harder, more intense. The tide was excited and the closer it got to the Eclipse beginning, the more frenetic the waves and tidal movement got. Bubbling, crackling, more aggressive in movement. The waves ran longer up the beach, as if to swallow the earth in its path. Our fire was raging by this point, and as it grew, so did the ocean. Soon we were inching up the beach, to the shore side of the fire. All of a sudden a wave hit the beach with a snarling thump and the oceans of water flew the length of the beach, into the side of our fire. We scrambled to get out of the way, as the ocean was claiming whatever was in it's path. The air felt completely electric by this point. Under the full moon he wave caps looked like snowy mountains and avalanches of sea water. As the light dimmed, we could still make out the waves, more of a muted grey. Nadia grabbed my arm and hissed "we're going in." She pulled me towards the water. I barely scrambled out of my clothes before hitting the water. The chill of the water wasn't what made me startle. The water felt alive, as if every droplet was a different entity. We didn't go deep, but sat in the shallows, barely able to take it all in. I had always known the power of the ocean but never felt it, never experienced it in this way before. It crashed around us, merciless, unrelenting, hissing, bubbling, the sea foam dancing all around us.
One of the crazy swedes from the shack swam further out and he told us later the ocean was insane. He literally felt like he was riding a wild animal. Fantastic.
Nads and I left the frothing water, and shimmied back into towels and clothes. The fire by this point had been breached and completely swallowed by the water. Everyone was huddled around a large fire further up ground. Dawn told us later the Indian guys were laughing at us down on the beach and were further entertained by the drowning fire and us "kraaaaaazy" swimmers.
The moon by this point was almost swallowed whole, only a sliver of light could be seen. We could still hear the roar of the ocean, could see the thrashing spitting waves. The fire was a good size and roared back at the ocean. It was truly a natural phenomenon. I fell asleep that night next to the fire, listening to the sounds around me, exhausted by the experience I had witnessed.
The next day I was awoken by the heartbeat of the waves on the beach. Much of the shoreline had been altered slightly, sharper lines in the sand, sand banks were worn down. No driftwood etc. to be seen. Andy returned from the party. It had been nuts over there as well, the music completely bonkers, driving many into a worked up frenzy. More internally charged as opposed to the external show we had seen at our little beach. Quite the Paradise.
We would eventually leave Gorkana and head East to Chennai, where we'd catch the 3 day boat ride to the Andaman Islands. Probably the most incredible experience ever. I'm so grateful I recognized a good thing when I saw it.
Tonight this eclipse was quieter. The dog was the only thing worked up and I wonder how much of that was due in part to his puppiness. I woke Erick just before totality, and he came outside to see it. Cold, clear night outside. Perfect viewing.
My future self's advice to myself for the year ahead: Keep your head in game and don't lose hope. Be kind to yourself. Enjoy the little moments. Love your friends. Be thankful for what you didn't lose and what you have. Change is a given. Rewrite your stars.
My current self's words of wisdom to myself ten years ago: 2000. I was in India. In Diu, Gujarat. Just before the earthquake. About to enjoy a Christmas that I only just connected with some of the participants to remember what a great time that was. A week away from heading south to Goa for NYE, and Gorkana for the Eclipse. although I certainly didn't know it.
Hmmmmmmm. Don't over think things. Enjoy yourself. Make friends, stay in touch. Follow your instincts but don't forget to follow your heart too. Don't worry what if. Things have this funny way of working themselves out.
Ten years ago, almost to the day I had just re-met Nadia in Diu, having first met her in Pushkar. We were all eating at a long table in a restaurant. Corinna and I had just arrived and met up with Chrissy and Co. Dave and Nadia, Dawn and Andy were leaving the next day for Hampi. Nadia came up beside me touched my arm, said "it's good to see you again." I had smiled back and nodded, too shy to say anything else to this adventurer I so wanted to be friends with. Nads told me later she couldn't remember how she'd met me only that I was familiar, quiet, and that she was sad she was leaving because she wanted to know me better.
Connections within connections. In January Erick and I are heading down to Tulum, Mexico to visit Dave and Nadia in their eye shaped casa in the jungle. I love living with them. My only regret in life is not spending more time with them in Manchester, as they really wanted me to stay it seemed. My soul breathren. During my time at Bridgepoint Rehab Dave had seen my Facebook wall posts from concerned peeps and had messaged me. I told him what had happened to me, and he told Nads. They both sent me messages and cards throughout the year, even reminding me of the Hangi we did on the Andamans. Another pair of arms holding us up, supporting Erick and I through a very dark time. We are so lucky to have the friends we do.
We mix Tulum and Tofino up frequently. Both small touristy towns, beautiful, magical, holding so many good memories. Each representing a sister-friend - my Didi in Tulum, and my Banyani in Tofino.
Connections within connections.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Dr does not mean Right
I fucking hate doctors. The idiots. The plebs who got the title because they can figure out a multiple choice test, have a trust fund backing them, sucked the prof's dick or studied for hours without actually reading the words on the page.
THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!
Just because some yobo in a white coat comes in the room and introduces themselves as a doctor DOES NOT MEAN THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!
Being a doctor does not mean they understand what is wrong with you. If you are at a tecahing hospital, often the staff doctors will send the residents who will send the junior residents who will send the med students if their's one swanning about, full of themselves because they got into med school and if they can survive the next 5 years or so of pure torture they will be bankrolling $300,000+ for the rest of their lives.
So please, people, take your health in your hands. You have the absolute right to ID the person coming into see you and the eternal right to ask for clarification when they say "I'm on the medical team/ I'm one of the Doctors." You want to speak to the person who makes the final decision which direction your care goes. There are too many idiots with the title of "Doctor" running around discrediting all the good, intelligent Drs actually working and treating Pts and not mincing around tripping over their own ego. Ask questions. Own your health and the care you receive.
THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT!
Just because some yobo in a white coat comes in the room and introduces themselves as a doctor DOES NOT MEAN THEY KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!
Being a doctor does not mean they understand what is wrong with you. If you are at a tecahing hospital, often the staff doctors will send the residents who will send the junior residents who will send the med students if their's one swanning about, full of themselves because they got into med school and if they can survive the next 5 years or so of pure torture they will be bankrolling $300,000+ for the rest of their lives.
So please, people, take your health in your hands. You have the absolute right to ID the person coming into see you and the eternal right to ask for clarification when they say "I'm on the medical team/ I'm one of the Doctors." You want to speak to the person who makes the final decision which direction your care goes. There are too many idiots with the title of "Doctor" running around discrediting all the good, intelligent Drs actually working and treating Pts and not mincing around tripping over their own ego. Ask questions. Own your health and the care you receive.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 20
Prompt: Beyond avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn't because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)
Is it me or are some of these prompts repetitive? I'm not feeling this one.
However.....
2010 was in part about me discovering the on-line world. Namely the creative side. Etsy. The mecca of meccas for crafters, creators, artists. A springboard for a new business. I discovered so many amazing businesses and people via Etsy. Definately helped me rebuild myself so I owe them all serious props.
I really wanted to try owning an Etsy store. For vintage clothing and maybe adding something else, something that I made. I am so inspired by the creativity of others. What people are capable of creating with their own hands as opposed to a machine stamping out the same thing repeatively. Little differences here and there. Driven by passion, by expression. A friend of a friend started a knit wear store, inspired by her life on the west coast. This inspired me to knit again. And so I did, and during the winter olympics I sat in my Lazy boy and worked on a sweater, after being inprired by this person I didn't know and a colleague from work who believed in my abilities to knit. I am half an afternoon from being done. One more seam to graft, fix up any small tasks and then block. And then wear with pride.
My Etsy store was a venture with my sister. We were going to sell all our vintage and vintage-esque clothes. This task would keep me occupied with a modest income. The more time I spent online, the more I was exposed to the online entrepreneurial community. I found business courses and guides and bought some as an investment in my Etsy store dream or any venture I or E decided to do.
But I chickened out. Too frightened to risk exposure to failure my Etsy stores sits empty, a skeleton business plan drawn out but covered in dust. Maybe next year, when I am not so afraid.
I think I also caved due in part to my recovery status. 2010 was a hard year - much fatigue, pain and a busy rehab schedule. I figured I wouldn't have the energy to see to the day consuming tasks of owning an Etsy store. It is a full time job for many, a side project for others. I can only imagine how much time and energy it would take from me. Not one accustomed to fear dissuading me rom a chosen path, I kept glancing over my shoulder at my oasis of a dream. Of expression and creativity.
If this post seems disjointed, it is because it is. I am tired, you see. I've been up, looking and searching on Etsy. For inspiration. For my dream. For 2011?
Is it me or are some of these prompts repetitive? I'm not feeling this one.
However.....
2010 was in part about me discovering the on-line world. Namely the creative side. Etsy. The mecca of meccas for crafters, creators, artists. A springboard for a new business. I discovered so many amazing businesses and people via Etsy. Definately helped me rebuild myself so I owe them all serious props.
I really wanted to try owning an Etsy store. For vintage clothing and maybe adding something else, something that I made. I am so inspired by the creativity of others. What people are capable of creating with their own hands as opposed to a machine stamping out the same thing repeatively. Little differences here and there. Driven by passion, by expression. A friend of a friend started a knit wear store, inspired by her life on the west coast. This inspired me to knit again. And so I did, and during the winter olympics I sat in my Lazy boy and worked on a sweater, after being inprired by this person I didn't know and a colleague from work who believed in my abilities to knit. I am half an afternoon from being done. One more seam to graft, fix up any small tasks and then block. And then wear with pride.
My Etsy store was a venture with my sister. We were going to sell all our vintage and vintage-esque clothes. This task would keep me occupied with a modest income. The more time I spent online, the more I was exposed to the online entrepreneurial community. I found business courses and guides and bought some as an investment in my Etsy store dream or any venture I or E decided to do.
But I chickened out. Too frightened to risk exposure to failure my Etsy stores sits empty, a skeleton business plan drawn out but covered in dust. Maybe next year, when I am not so afraid.
I think I also caved due in part to my recovery status. 2010 was a hard year - much fatigue, pain and a busy rehab schedule. I figured I wouldn't have the energy to see to the day consuming tasks of owning an Etsy store. It is a full time job for many, a side project for others. I can only imagine how much time and energy it would take from me. Not one accustomed to fear dissuading me rom a chosen path, I kept glancing over my shoulder at my oasis of a dream. Of expression and creativity.
If this post seems disjointed, it is because it is. I am tired, you see. I've been up, looking and searching on Etsy. For inspiration. For my dream. For 2011?
Reverb#10 - Day 18
Prompt: Try. What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn't go for it?
I'd like to try getting on my bike. Even just riding a few feet. My physiotherapist wants to make this a treatment goal for May next year. The idea of riding in the city makes me want to vomit. Too soon.
I'd like to join the Toronto Temperance Society. I think it would be fun, a real treat, and a possible return to actually having a life. E and I enjoyed ourselves immensely last time. My sister and her boyfriend purchased a membership between them. This allows them and two others to enter the club and hang there. Drinks are $10. These are true cocktails, pre-prohibition style. All the ingredients are made in house. The menu is fantastic, a smorgasbord of tasty drinks, for a steal of a price. Plus they hold tasting nights, where a product is featured, and on those nights, the drinks are free. E and I have decided that or xmas our presents to ourselves is this membership. We could take our friends, have a night out twice a month. Have an actual social life. The club is above Sidecar restaurant, which has an excellent prix-fixe menu, in the heart of Little Italy. It'd be brilliant in summer. We also want to start a movie night twice a month.
We are also hoping our trip in January to Tulum will enable me to try diving and see if it is something I could do again. I hope so. If I can we are buying ourselves a full dive kit. And learning the maintenance for it. If not, maybe one day.
I'm also hoping to develop a creative side. I loved making the mouse ornaments for the ornament exchange. I got a sewing machine for my birthday this year so here's hoping I can have fun with it. My knitting continues, although I've frogged the same sweater countless times. Sigh.
Little things begin big things. Bunny steps.
I'd like to try getting on my bike. Even just riding a few feet. My physiotherapist wants to make this a treatment goal for May next year. The idea of riding in the city makes me want to vomit. Too soon.
I'd like to join the Toronto Temperance Society. I think it would be fun, a real treat, and a possible return to actually having a life. E and I enjoyed ourselves immensely last time. My sister and her boyfriend purchased a membership between them. This allows them and two others to enter the club and hang there. Drinks are $10. These are true cocktails, pre-prohibition style. All the ingredients are made in house. The menu is fantastic, a smorgasbord of tasty drinks, for a steal of a price. Plus they hold tasting nights, where a product is featured, and on those nights, the drinks are free. E and I have decided that or xmas our presents to ourselves is this membership. We could take our friends, have a night out twice a month. Have an actual social life. The club is above Sidecar restaurant, which has an excellent prix-fixe menu, in the heart of Little Italy. It'd be brilliant in summer. We also want to start a movie night twice a month.
We are also hoping our trip in January to Tulum will enable me to try diving and see if it is something I could do again. I hope so. If I can we are buying ourselves a full dive kit. And learning the maintenance for it. If not, maybe one day.
I'm also hoping to develop a creative side. I loved making the mouse ornaments for the ornament exchange. I got a sewing machine for my birthday this year so here's hoping I can have fun with it. My knitting continues, although I've frogged the same sweater countless times. Sigh.
Little things begin big things. Bunny steps.
Reverb#10 - Day 19
Prompt: Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2011?
This year was all about healing. Physically I have done well. In January I could barely move without fatiguing, my backside was that of an octogenarian. I was thin, weak, frail. I didn't walk so much as shuffle. My main point of rest was my Lazy Boy. I couldn't cook, stand for long periods. I couldn't even lie in bed without constantly shifting, so my battered pelvis didn't hurt. Each night I wore a bone stimulator over my pelvis, to prompt the calcium cascade to regenerate my bone, cause them to grow and heal the breaks and cracks, strengthen the integrity of the entire pelvis. Fuse it.
Tonight, at the sunset of 2010, my situation is changed. I still walk with aids but I can stride longer, farther, stronger, more uniform in my steps. I can fend for myself and cook and clean, albeit slowly. I am tackling my cognitive issues, finding and developing strategies. I attended care conferences, physio, OT, psy-chology and -chiatry. I took the necessary steps of recovery.
Am I healed? I recovered from the summer surgery well. Much fatigue and pain and swelling but now I move so much more free-r. Baby steps.
This year was all about healing. Physically I have done well. In January I could barely move without fatiguing, my backside was that of an octogenarian. I was thin, weak, frail. I didn't walk so much as shuffle. My main point of rest was my Lazy Boy. I couldn't cook, stand for long periods. I couldn't even lie in bed without constantly shifting, so my battered pelvis didn't hurt. Each night I wore a bone stimulator over my pelvis, to prompt the calcium cascade to regenerate my bone, cause them to grow and heal the breaks and cracks, strengthen the integrity of the entire pelvis. Fuse it.
Tonight, at the sunset of 2010, my situation is changed. I still walk with aids but I can stride longer, farther, stronger, more uniform in my steps. I can fend for myself and cook and clean, albeit slowly. I am tackling my cognitive issues, finding and developing strategies. I attended care conferences, physio, OT, psy-chology and -chiatry. I took the necessary steps of recovery.
Am I healed? I recovered from the summer surgery well. Much fatigue and pain and swelling but now I move so much more free-r. Baby steps.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 17
Prompt: Lesson learned. What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?
I learned many things about myself this past year. Some good, some bad. Most valuable. If anything, the best was how adaptable I am. Having come off the worst four months of my life, with the next 12 months poised to be just as trying, I was pleased to discover that I developed an ability to adapt to whatever was before me. Be it falling down the stairs, keeping my cool when in a trying situation, or preparing to possibly have to take the stand to testify in the criminal case of the guy who caused the accident, I was able to keep it together long enough to get the job done. When my hairdresser cut my hair just a little too short from my comfort zone, I swallowed my tears, embraced the new, shorn me, and remembered that hair ultimately grows. Nothing lasts forever. Words to live by. Be it pain, distress, joy or a good bottle of Sauvignion from New Zealand, nothing is permanent. Change will always win. Being able to adapt is key to surviving this life.
The same is true for the most enjoyable moments. The week in Tofino for our friends wedding flew by and E and I knew it would. We tried to enjoy every moment while we could. The beach, the lodge, the cinnamon rolls. All spectacular. The big tree trail. Stunning. We also realized pretty quick we wouldn't do everything we wanted. Instead, we loved what we did do, and put the rest on the list for next time.
Going forward into 2011, I hope to keep this attitude of adaptability as needed. I've been to edge of my abilities. I can walk, I am alive. I have enough control of my brain to live independently and fulfill most of my dreams. I have a fantastic partner, of whom I owe so much. I have an incredible dog and a gorgeous cat. I have a supportive family. And a career in what ever form it decides to take. All I need to do is adapt which ever way I can and all will work itself out.
I learned many things about myself this past year. Some good, some bad. Most valuable. If anything, the best was how adaptable I am. Having come off the worst four months of my life, with the next 12 months poised to be just as trying, I was pleased to discover that I developed an ability to adapt to whatever was before me. Be it falling down the stairs, keeping my cool when in a trying situation, or preparing to possibly have to take the stand to testify in the criminal case of the guy who caused the accident, I was able to keep it together long enough to get the job done. When my hairdresser cut my hair just a little too short from my comfort zone, I swallowed my tears, embraced the new, shorn me, and remembered that hair ultimately grows. Nothing lasts forever. Words to live by. Be it pain, distress, joy or a good bottle of Sauvignion from New Zealand, nothing is permanent. Change will always win. Being able to adapt is key to surviving this life.
The same is true for the most enjoyable moments. The week in Tofino for our friends wedding flew by and E and I knew it would. We tried to enjoy every moment while we could. The beach, the lodge, the cinnamon rolls. All spectacular. The big tree trail. Stunning. We also realized pretty quick we wouldn't do everything we wanted. Instead, we loved what we did do, and put the rest on the list for next time.
Going forward into 2011, I hope to keep this attitude of adaptability as needed. I've been to edge of my abilities. I can walk, I am alive. I have enough control of my brain to live independently and fulfill most of my dreams. I have a fantastic partner, of whom I owe so much. I have an incredible dog and a gorgeous cat. I have a supportive family. And a career in what ever form it decides to take. All I need to do is adapt which ever way I can and all will work itself out.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 16
Prompt: Friendship. How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was this change gradual, or a sudden burst?
My view on Friendship in general has changed. I have no expectations anymore where friends are concerned. I've found it hurts too much whenever they aren't met. Until I am able to feel I can trust people and myself again, I will try to refrain from having expectations.
I mat discussed this before, but the notion that you learn who your friends truly are in times of crisis is so true. And it has surprised me. There were some that I thought hands down would stick by me. And although they initially visited me in hospital, once I was discharged home, they left, rarely returned my phone calls and seemed to not want to know me or my issues. My oldest friends did this. She was coping with big life issues of her own and perhaps couldn't handle anything else but I did think we would at least stay in touch and commiserate on the unfairness of life together. No such luck. I did get an apology of sorts a while back but when I've tried to follow up on how she is doing I get no response.
The same can be said for the emergency department I worked at. At the beginning, when I in he ICU and on the trauma unit, I would hear from people, friends would stop buy. I constantly received well wishes, etc. I was told once I felt up up it I would receive an enormous wave of visitors. Only a handful visited and once I was at rehab, very few. I went to social events when I came home - dinners, camping trips, I stopped by the department. But eventually I heard from no one, invitations weren't extended any more. I went by the department the other day and realized I didn't belong there any more, or so they all thought. Most odd. You'd think a group of nurses would be supportive and understand what I am going through, but again this is an expectation without thought. Just because someone works in health care doesn't mean they care. Or they understand.
My closest work friend was someone I knew from nursing school. She had gradated to the ER too, to everyone's surprise. I always got the impression she was afraid to go it alone somewhere else, so when I was accepted to work at MSH and I told her about it, she applied as well. The day of my accident she was with her mum, and a mutual friend/co-worker called her to tell her what had happened to me. She called E at the ER I was at, and she quickly became my families liaison between work and them. At the beginning she visited often. One of my first memories is her face. She was sitting next too me, giggling and smiling. Erick arrived then too and we all sat together, smiling. In my delerium I named her one of the pretty girls because she was, along with my sister and another co-worker. As I gradually got better her visits stayed frequent,but when the MRSA scandal hit, very soon she lessened her visits. Soon she would come only with someone else, and then not at all. I would see her at work events but she woulds always be with other people. I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe she finally got the acceptance she was after into the upper social echelons at work, and had no need for me further, as it was becoming doubtful I would be able to return to work at the ER. I miss her. I always knew I was more her friend than she was mine. The summer before the accident I was on medication to proactively treat a latent TB infection. I told my friend to keep this info on the down low, and she agreed but later outed me via joking around with our co-workers while working at Triage. I was so disappointed, as at first she tried to brush it off as a joke, but later apologized. It was then I realized we were friends so long as it was beneficial to her, much as it had been in school. I did hear from her recently when I was gearing up to present at the SMH trauma conference. She had initially told me she would be at the conference to support me etc. but later told ,e she couldn't get her shift covered and had to work the day of the conference. She didn't call me after to see how it had gone - I assume she heard what she needed to from those who went. Now that she had complete acceptance at work and was in the leadership ring that seemed to be the cool kids of the ER, I doubt I will hear from her much. Sad, but true.
I understand that life goes on for those still working and that mine is the only life affected by my accident. Crisis is a terrible time to lose friends, as it is then one needs the comfort and support of other people. But being supportive isn't many people's bag as ultimately it draws attention aware from the individual. Petty, but this seems to be what being an adult is all about. Self-interest, self-preservation. I am not truly in the thick of fending for myself, there is no buffer of youth to protect me. Once you are exposed to the darker sides of life, to many you are tarnished and not worth the effort of knowing. Adults are the most self-centered form of humans, even surpassing teenagers, which at first seems doubtful. Teenagers are all about their friends and the opinions of others. Adults seem to care less.
My view on Friendship in general has changed. I have no expectations anymore where friends are concerned. I've found it hurts too much whenever they aren't met. Until I am able to feel I can trust people and myself again, I will try to refrain from having expectations.
I mat discussed this before, but the notion that you learn who your friends truly are in times of crisis is so true. And it has surprised me. There were some that I thought hands down would stick by me. And although they initially visited me in hospital, once I was discharged home, they left, rarely returned my phone calls and seemed to not want to know me or my issues. My oldest friends did this. She was coping with big life issues of her own and perhaps couldn't handle anything else but I did think we would at least stay in touch and commiserate on the unfairness of life together. No such luck. I did get an apology of sorts a while back but when I've tried to follow up on how she is doing I get no response.
The same can be said for the emergency department I worked at. At the beginning, when I in he ICU and on the trauma unit, I would hear from people, friends would stop buy. I constantly received well wishes, etc. I was told once I felt up up it I would receive an enormous wave of visitors. Only a handful visited and once I was at rehab, very few. I went to social events when I came home - dinners, camping trips, I stopped by the department. But eventually I heard from no one, invitations weren't extended any more. I went by the department the other day and realized I didn't belong there any more, or so they all thought. Most odd. You'd think a group of nurses would be supportive and understand what I am going through, but again this is an expectation without thought. Just because someone works in health care doesn't mean they care. Or they understand.
My closest work friend was someone I knew from nursing school. She had gradated to the ER too, to everyone's surprise. I always got the impression she was afraid to go it alone somewhere else, so when I was accepted to work at MSH and I told her about it, she applied as well. The day of my accident she was with her mum, and a mutual friend/co-worker called her to tell her what had happened to me. She called E at the ER I was at, and she quickly became my families liaison between work and them. At the beginning she visited often. One of my first memories is her face. She was sitting next too me, giggling and smiling. Erick arrived then too and we all sat together, smiling. In my delerium I named her one of the pretty girls because she was, along with my sister and another co-worker. As I gradually got better her visits stayed frequent,but when the MRSA scandal hit, very soon she lessened her visits. Soon she would come only with someone else, and then not at all. I would see her at work events but she woulds always be with other people. I'm still not sure what happened. Maybe she finally got the acceptance she was after into the upper social echelons at work, and had no need for me further, as it was becoming doubtful I would be able to return to work at the ER. I miss her. I always knew I was more her friend than she was mine. The summer before the accident I was on medication to proactively treat a latent TB infection. I told my friend to keep this info on the down low, and she agreed but later outed me via joking around with our co-workers while working at Triage. I was so disappointed, as at first she tried to brush it off as a joke, but later apologized. It was then I realized we were friends so long as it was beneficial to her, much as it had been in school. I did hear from her recently when I was gearing up to present at the SMH trauma conference. She had initially told me she would be at the conference to support me etc. but later told ,e she couldn't get her shift covered and had to work the day of the conference. She didn't call me after to see how it had gone - I assume she heard what she needed to from those who went. Now that she had complete acceptance at work and was in the leadership ring that seemed to be the cool kids of the ER, I doubt I will hear from her much. Sad, but true.
I understand that life goes on for those still working and that mine is the only life affected by my accident. Crisis is a terrible time to lose friends, as it is then one needs the comfort and support of other people. But being supportive isn't many people's bag as ultimately it draws attention aware from the individual. Petty, but this seems to be what being an adult is all about. Self-interest, self-preservation. I am not truly in the thick of fending for myself, there is no buffer of youth to protect me. Once you are exposed to the darker sides of life, to many you are tarnished and not worth the effort of knowing. Adults are the most self-centered form of humans, even surpassing teenagers, which at first seems doubtful. Teenagers are all about their friends and the opinions of others. Adults seem to care less.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 15
Prompt: 5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.
Rescuing my dog: In April E was starting a new job which required him to be gone for long stretches of time. I was feeling quite stuck and meaningless, unsure of what to do with me days and so sick of me and my recovery. I'd wanted a dog for sometime. I knew of an organization that rescued unwanted dogs from the Northern reserves. When I went in on the website I discovered a new litter of puppies had arrived at the shelter and after discussing it with E, we applied for one. My Reiki practitioner had rescued a dog from said organization and wrote a letter of endorsement for us. Our lack of backyard was a strike against us but my including our intent to purchase a house in the summer softened said strike. Before we knew it, arrangements were made to bring the litter to our house for the in home interview. A truck pulled up outside the house. A large man knocked on the door, grabbed Erick and went back outside. Two minutes later a bewildered Erick arrived, carrying 3 puppies, followed by the owner and three more. In total 6 puppies arrived and ran all around the study. Two were tired and immediately fell asleep on either side of my sister, like book ends. This left us with a hyper female who was the runt of the litter, a soft, big eyed friendly male and a daydreaming, energetic male. This daydreamer was of different colouring to his siblings: brown red and white a white face with a black mask. It didn't take long to pick him. He became my world - it was nice to finally be looking after someone else. I quickly fell in love with him and here he sits beside me as I type this. He was a rescue dog was Higgins, but in actual fact I think he rescued me.
Other memories to keep are purchasing our house this summer, our trip out west, meeting Lucy, our cat, all over again when I came home. And finding ourselves together again, when all the dust had settled.
Rescuing my dog: In April E was starting a new job which required him to be gone for long stretches of time. I was feeling quite stuck and meaningless, unsure of what to do with me days and so sick of me and my recovery. I'd wanted a dog for sometime. I knew of an organization that rescued unwanted dogs from the Northern reserves. When I went in on the website I discovered a new litter of puppies had arrived at the shelter and after discussing it with E, we applied for one. My Reiki practitioner had rescued a dog from said organization and wrote a letter of endorsement for us. Our lack of backyard was a strike against us but my including our intent to purchase a house in the summer softened said strike. Before we knew it, arrangements were made to bring the litter to our house for the in home interview. A truck pulled up outside the house. A large man knocked on the door, grabbed Erick and went back outside. Two minutes later a bewildered Erick arrived, carrying 3 puppies, followed by the owner and three more. In total 6 puppies arrived and ran all around the study. Two were tired and immediately fell asleep on either side of my sister, like book ends. This left us with a hyper female who was the runt of the litter, a soft, big eyed friendly male and a daydreaming, energetic male. This daydreamer was of different colouring to his siblings: brown red and white a white face with a black mask. It didn't take long to pick him. He became my world - it was nice to finally be looking after someone else. I quickly fell in love with him and here he sits beside me as I type this. He was a rescue dog was Higgins, but in actual fact I think he rescued me.
Other memories to keep are purchasing our house this summer, our trip out west, meeting Lucy, our cat, all over again when I came home. And finding ourselves together again, when all the dust had settled.
Reverb 10 - Day 14
Prompt: Appreciate. What's the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?
I appreciate being alive. But this is a given and not what I want to write about today.
I appreciate E. His love, dedication, unwavering faith that I could battle back from the wreck in the hospital bed. He came every day and once school had started then every night to the hospital. He missed two nights - once to study for a big mid-term, and once because Ryan dragged and I insisted he go to a concert at the Opera House.
My first memory is my sister's voice but my first visual was my friend T smiling and asking "who's that?" and gesturing to the other side of me. I turned my head and there he was. I stared at him, the most goofiest expression, I'm sure, on my face. He was smiling. Someone once said when E smiles the world is a better place. So true.
E supported me through everything, when everything seemed so black. He stayed strong when I begged him to take me home because I was so scared and in so much pain. When I finally did come home, we sat together for the rest of the day. He made me a sushi dinner for NYE and together we drank champagne and watched The Pacific. He has been everything to me and more. He is my best friend, my shooting star, my geeky, smart-assed sarcastic softy. He has the softest heart and the most prickly shell. He is the brain and brawn behind Jenerick enterprises. I love that he was surprised at how much he loves having a dog and how jealous he seems that Higgs sleeps on my side of the bed. He knew my favourite stone was jade, so he went to Pacific Mall in the boondocks of Scarberia to find the perfect ring, and then showed it to my sister and Britt to be sure it was the right one. He asked me to marry him on the beach because he knew it was what I always wanted. I introduced him to my travel family and it was a mutual love fest. He is the perfect side kick and instigator a girl could have.
I never truly saw who E is until that moment in ICU. I never truly appreciated who he was is will be until that moment. He will forever hold the string to my balloon.
I can imagine a life without walking. I cannot imagine a life without Erick.
I appreciate being alive. But this is a given and not what I want to write about today.
I appreciate E. His love, dedication, unwavering faith that I could battle back from the wreck in the hospital bed. He came every day and once school had started then every night to the hospital. He missed two nights - once to study for a big mid-term, and once because Ryan dragged and I insisted he go to a concert at the Opera House.
My first memory is my sister's voice but my first visual was my friend T smiling and asking "who's that?" and gesturing to the other side of me. I turned my head and there he was. I stared at him, the most goofiest expression, I'm sure, on my face. He was smiling. Someone once said when E smiles the world is a better place. So true.
E supported me through everything, when everything seemed so black. He stayed strong when I begged him to take me home because I was so scared and in so much pain. When I finally did come home, we sat together for the rest of the day. He made me a sushi dinner for NYE and together we drank champagne and watched The Pacific. He has been everything to me and more. He is my best friend, my shooting star, my geeky, smart-assed sarcastic softy. He has the softest heart and the most prickly shell. He is the brain and brawn behind Jenerick enterprises. I love that he was surprised at how much he loves having a dog and how jealous he seems that Higgs sleeps on my side of the bed. He knew my favourite stone was jade, so he went to Pacific Mall in the boondocks of Scarberia to find the perfect ring, and then showed it to my sister and Britt to be sure it was the right one. He asked me to marry him on the beach because he knew it was what I always wanted. I introduced him to my travel family and it was a mutual love fest. He is the perfect side kick and instigator a girl could have.
I never truly saw who E is until that moment in ICU. I never truly appreciated who he was is will be until that moment. He will forever hold the string to my balloon.
I can imagine a life without walking. I cannot imagine a life without Erick.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 13
Prompt: Action. When it comes to aspirations, its not about ideas. It's about making ideas happen. What's your next step?
As mundane as it sounds, my next step is to simply keep going. Keep working, keep striving, keep focused. I am starting to understand what is at stake and what is expected of me in the next few years. I have a few roles to fill, and I have dreams that I want to fulfill. Given what happened to my last round of hopes I intend to keep these dreams within the confines of my inner circle. For now, I will keep my head down, eyes forward, instincts on the prize. Rehab, therapy, different treatments, these are all plans for a good a recovery as possible.
As mundane as it sounds, my next step is to simply keep going. Keep working, keep striving, keep focused. I am starting to understand what is at stake and what is expected of me in the next few years. I have a few roles to fill, and I have dreams that I want to fulfill. Given what happened to my last round of hopes I intend to keep these dreams within the confines of my inner circle. For now, I will keep my head down, eyes forward, instincts on the prize. Rehab, therapy, different treatments, these are all plans for a good a recovery as possible.
Reverb#10 - Day 12
Prompt: Body integration. This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn't mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 11
Prompt: 11 Things. What are 11 things your life doesn't need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?
This feels like a long post. Yeesh.
1) bullshit - I feel like I endured much bull shit last year. Some of it unintended, some of it just happened, and some of it happened for the last time. Whatever the reason, I'm done with bull shit - from friends, associates, hospitals, corporations, family. I'd like a year with as little bullshit as possible. Eliminating most of it requires knowing myself and my boundaries inside and out. And being able to keep my cool and emotions in check. Which brings me to...
2) losing it - To day my body is rife with emotions is a vast understatement. Anger seems to be to most predominant emotion and for good reason. I've lost it control wise over big complicated things and little things, such as cream instead of milk in my coffee. No matter what losing my cool requires and takes much energy, which I don't have in quantity as I used to. Again, I need to keep myself in check. I need to hone in on something like my breath, and just breathe. Sorta like that self hypnosis athletes do before competing. Push myself into the immediate now. I suspect there is much more to come and I need to learn adequate coping strategies. 2011 seems as good a time as any.
3) mindless stuff - I've been trying to liquidate as much as possible. I've got rid of many things this year and the space has been nice to have again. I need to stop mindless spending or acquiring when I feel empty of sad. I'll regret the expense as well as the clutter. I need firmer rules by which to adhere to when acquiring. I need to say no more when offered free stuff I don't necessarily want or need.
4) fake friends - This accident showed me who my friends are. These are the only people I need. I don't want to waste my energy on flighty unreliable friends. I deleted a whole pile off my Facebook the other day. It hurt too much to see them. Most of them were work friends. I need to let work go.
I also need to let go of friends who are so simply because they always have been. High school/traveling etc has been over for awhile.
5) expectations - I wrote about expectations earlier. They do nothing expect blur the lines of experience. Once I expect things I invite desire, deserve, disappointment, comparison, entitlement and other fun wrecking emotions to the table. To expect is to live in the future or the past, not the present. No expectations = little stress.
6) self-unkindness - Our inner critics influence much of what we do if we let them. The greatest, most powerful thing I can do is to be kind to myself. No expectation, no criticism, no denial, no worthlessness. Just love and kindness when needed, and a kick in the butt to keep myself in check. I've spent the last year so down, so sad and so lost. I would like to move forward. I should be kinder to myself in order to do so.
7) apathy - In the wake of trauma, apathy is often the easier way out. Safer. To be numb, feeling-less, void of all hope and positivity feels the safest. If I don't care, nothing can hurt me again. Time slips by at a fast pace. I want to care again. I need to motivate myself to do things. Get out of bed, shower, get dressed. Too many days spent in my PJ's. If I am dressed I can go out, see friends. Not be a hermit. Maybe then feeling will get better, safer.
8) cable television - All I watch is On Demand. We can download off the net pretty much anything. All cable provides is commercials. Most of them are annoying. Screw cable.
9)cheaply made stuff. - I buy it, it falls apart. I got what I paid for. I hate cheap junk. Takes up space. Beautiful handmade items inspire me to create, to decorate, to give. Handmade, small business, arts and crafty items are better quality, not much quantity and encourage you to do rather then consume. Cheap plastic mass produced kills creativity, meaning, and most importantly the planet.
10)too much sentiment. I have boxes of bad pictures and ex-boyfriend evidence. I don't need them. 10 amazing pictures are a better conduit to memories then a boxful of just 'cause pictures. I'd rather build a bonfire and spend an evening with friends, burning what I don't need anymore. Seems cleansing. And fire is cool. It really is.
11) and finally...the big one..
Fear - Frank Herbert once wrote in his epic Dune Saga that "fear is the mind killer." When I was young and invisible these were words I lived by. As I got older I realized fear was necessary to show me my weak points and what I truly care about. A indicator of vulnerability. What I loved about the ER was not knowing what could come through the door next. Chaos was fun for me and yet I spent a good amount of 2010 afraid of the unknown. Fear shows us how to be human. It is a deep primal instinct. To feel fear is to feel alive. To feel fear is to connect with the prey side of yourself. To feel fear is to sense death, be it physical or emotional or existential. I've avoided death a few times now. I don't necessarily want to do without fear as it is so much a part of me. I would just like to live instead of cower. It is time to get my life back. Maybe 2011 is the year to do so.
This feels like a long post. Yeesh.
1) bullshit - I feel like I endured much bull shit last year. Some of it unintended, some of it just happened, and some of it happened for the last time. Whatever the reason, I'm done with bull shit - from friends, associates, hospitals, corporations, family. I'd like a year with as little bullshit as possible. Eliminating most of it requires knowing myself and my boundaries inside and out. And being able to keep my cool and emotions in check. Which brings me to...
2) losing it - To day my body is rife with emotions is a vast understatement. Anger seems to be to most predominant emotion and for good reason. I've lost it control wise over big complicated things and little things, such as cream instead of milk in my coffee. No matter what losing my cool requires and takes much energy, which I don't have in quantity as I used to. Again, I need to keep myself in check. I need to hone in on something like my breath, and just breathe. Sorta like that self hypnosis athletes do before competing. Push myself into the immediate now. I suspect there is much more to come and I need to learn adequate coping strategies. 2011 seems as good a time as any.
3) mindless stuff - I've been trying to liquidate as much as possible. I've got rid of many things this year and the space has been nice to have again. I need to stop mindless spending or acquiring when I feel empty of sad. I'll regret the expense as well as the clutter. I need firmer rules by which to adhere to when acquiring. I need to say no more when offered free stuff I don't necessarily want or need.
4) fake friends - This accident showed me who my friends are. These are the only people I need. I don't want to waste my energy on flighty unreliable friends. I deleted a whole pile off my Facebook the other day. It hurt too much to see them. Most of them were work friends. I need to let work go.
I also need to let go of friends who are so simply because they always have been. High school/traveling etc has been over for awhile.
5) expectations - I wrote about expectations earlier. They do nothing expect blur the lines of experience. Once I expect things I invite desire, deserve, disappointment, comparison, entitlement and other fun wrecking emotions to the table. To expect is to live in the future or the past, not the present. No expectations = little stress.
6) self-unkindness - Our inner critics influence much of what we do if we let them. The greatest, most powerful thing I can do is to be kind to myself. No expectation, no criticism, no denial, no worthlessness. Just love and kindness when needed, and a kick in the butt to keep myself in check. I've spent the last year so down, so sad and so lost. I would like to move forward. I should be kinder to myself in order to do so.
7) apathy - In the wake of trauma, apathy is often the easier way out. Safer. To be numb, feeling-less, void of all hope and positivity feels the safest. If I don't care, nothing can hurt me again. Time slips by at a fast pace. I want to care again. I need to motivate myself to do things. Get out of bed, shower, get dressed. Too many days spent in my PJ's. If I am dressed I can go out, see friends. Not be a hermit. Maybe then feeling will get better, safer.
8) cable television - All I watch is On Demand. We can download off the net pretty much anything. All cable provides is commercials. Most of them are annoying. Screw cable.
9)cheaply made stuff. - I buy it, it falls apart. I got what I paid for. I hate cheap junk. Takes up space. Beautiful handmade items inspire me to create, to decorate, to give. Handmade, small business, arts and crafty items are better quality, not much quantity and encourage you to do rather then consume. Cheap plastic mass produced kills creativity, meaning, and most importantly the planet.
10)too much sentiment. I have boxes of bad pictures and ex-boyfriend evidence. I don't need them. 10 amazing pictures are a better conduit to memories then a boxful of just 'cause pictures. I'd rather build a bonfire and spend an evening with friends, burning what I don't need anymore. Seems cleansing. And fire is cool. It really is.
11) and finally...the big one..
Fear - Frank Herbert once wrote in his epic Dune Saga that "fear is the mind killer." When I was young and invisible these were words I lived by. As I got older I realized fear was necessary to show me my weak points and what I truly care about. A indicator of vulnerability. What I loved about the ER was not knowing what could come through the door next. Chaos was fun for me and yet I spent a good amount of 2010 afraid of the unknown. Fear shows us how to be human. It is a deep primal instinct. To feel fear is to feel alive. To feel fear is to connect with the prey side of yourself. To feel fear is to sense death, be it physical or emotional or existential. I've avoided death a few times now. I don't necessarily want to do without fear as it is so much a part of me. I would just like to live instead of cower. It is time to get my life back. Maybe 2011 is the year to do so.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 10
What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?
We took the plunge and bought a house this summer. A lot of factors played into it. Because of my recovery and the years it will take to settle the law suit, we decided that buying a house made more sense. Our apartment was old, the stairs steep. Our bedroom and bathroom were in the basement so just needing to pee was arduous when I first came home, as the staircase was quite steep. We had the 1st floor and basement of a row house so except for the kitchen, the apartment had no light. Quite depressing in winter. I'd been saving and investing since I started nursing and i had amassed enough for a down payment. We decided on a budget, went to a friend who was a real estate agent and started looking. We knew we wanted to stay in the East end of the city, and anywhere from where the apartment was east to the Beaches would work location wise. I ideally wanted to live near my best friend Britt, who had bought a house a few years earlier at the end of a dead end street that ended at a railway line. The area, Little India, was residential, had long tree lined streets, ample parks, and was still close to the down town by means of the Gardiner expressway, the Southern express route that followed the Lakeshore westwards out of the city, and the Don Valley Parkway which was the main artery North out of the city.
Originally we wanted a three bedroom house, with most of the necessities recently replaced or serviced. Four weeks of looking and a few unsuccessful bids later we realized that to stay within our budget and not have to do any major renovations or replacements, we would have to either look outside of the area we wanted or consider a two bedroom house. We opted for the latter, which turned out to be the smartest decision we'd made all year. That weekend I came across a 2 bedroom house that met all our requirements, right in the heart of the Indian bazaar. The best part. It was one street east and a 5 minute walk from Britt's house.
The moment we went to view the place I knew that we'd found our home. It was clean, bright with a long backyard, a covered porch/cloakroom, a newly renovated bathroom with a spa like shower which meant no hauling myself in and out of a tub. It had a new kitchen, a large unfinished basement with tons of potential, new essentials, a large bright master bedroom with excellent storage and tons of warmth and characteur. It is perfect.
We put a bid in and after two nail biting days, the house was offered to us. We closed with the typical stress 4 weeks later and moved in 2 weeks after that on a Friday. We spent the first weekend in shock that the house was ours, that we had sunlight in our bedroom for the first time in 4 years. We repainted, pitched a ton on unneeded stuff to charity. 33 months later we still haven't completely moved in yet but the dog has a backyard and a dog park 7 minutes away, I live near Britt and delicious Indian food again, we aren't on a main street but instead a quiet one way street, the house is clean and new. Even the cat is much happier as she can sit in one of he many windows and sunbathe or watch the world go by, and sometimes we let her outside for a bit, as the street is quiet and lazy, and she has all sorts of trees, yards and other cats to play with.
Our family is happy which makes me happy. My recovery is much more enhanced simply because I live n a much better space. Our office is in the second bedroom. The walls are this beautiful blue-lavender, which we figured would be a gender neutral colour for the nursery we hope to have sometime from now.
Our house. Definitely the best decision yet.
We took the plunge and bought a house this summer. A lot of factors played into it. Because of my recovery and the years it will take to settle the law suit, we decided that buying a house made more sense. Our apartment was old, the stairs steep. Our bedroom and bathroom were in the basement so just needing to pee was arduous when I first came home, as the staircase was quite steep. We had the 1st floor and basement of a row house so except for the kitchen, the apartment had no light. Quite depressing in winter. I'd been saving and investing since I started nursing and i had amassed enough for a down payment. We decided on a budget, went to a friend who was a real estate agent and started looking. We knew we wanted to stay in the East end of the city, and anywhere from where the apartment was east to the Beaches would work location wise. I ideally wanted to live near my best friend Britt, who had bought a house a few years earlier at the end of a dead end street that ended at a railway line. The area, Little India, was residential, had long tree lined streets, ample parks, and was still close to the down town by means of the Gardiner expressway, the Southern express route that followed the Lakeshore westwards out of the city, and the Don Valley Parkway which was the main artery North out of the city.
Originally we wanted a three bedroom house, with most of the necessities recently replaced or serviced. Four weeks of looking and a few unsuccessful bids later we realized that to stay within our budget and not have to do any major renovations or replacements, we would have to either look outside of the area we wanted or consider a two bedroom house. We opted for the latter, which turned out to be the smartest decision we'd made all year. That weekend I came across a 2 bedroom house that met all our requirements, right in the heart of the Indian bazaar. The best part. It was one street east and a 5 minute walk from Britt's house.
The moment we went to view the place I knew that we'd found our home. It was clean, bright with a long backyard, a covered porch/cloakroom, a newly renovated bathroom with a spa like shower which meant no hauling myself in and out of a tub. It had a new kitchen, a large unfinished basement with tons of potential, new essentials, a large bright master bedroom with excellent storage and tons of warmth and characteur. It is perfect.
We put a bid in and after two nail biting days, the house was offered to us. We closed with the typical stress 4 weeks later and moved in 2 weeks after that on a Friday. We spent the first weekend in shock that the house was ours, that we had sunlight in our bedroom for the first time in 4 years. We repainted, pitched a ton on unneeded stuff to charity. 33 months later we still haven't completely moved in yet but the dog has a backyard and a dog park 7 minutes away, I live near Britt and delicious Indian food again, we aren't on a main street but instead a quiet one way street, the house is clean and new. Even the cat is much happier as she can sit in one of he many windows and sunbathe or watch the world go by, and sometimes we let her outside for a bit, as the street is quiet and lazy, and she has all sorts of trees, yards and other cats to play with.
Our family is happy which makes me happy. My recovery is much more enhanced simply because I live n a much better space. Our office is in the second bedroom. The walls are this beautiful blue-lavender, which we figured would be a gender neutral colour for the nursery we hope to have sometime from now.
Our house. Definitely the best decision yet.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 9
Prompt: Party. What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.
My banyani Ariella's wedding to her Timbotz. A one week hoopla in Tofino, BC which is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.
I'm going to save this post for when I have more time. The whole week rocked so there's so much to say.
My banyani Ariella's wedding to her Timbotz. A one week hoopla in Tofino, BC which is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.
I'm going to save this post for when I have more time. The whole week rocked so there's so much to say.
Reverb#10 - Day 8
Prompt: Beautifully different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different - you'll find they're what make you beautiful.
I never know what to say when asked this sort of question. The concept that what makes you different is ultimately what makes you beautiful never sits well with me. It's like saying that to be beautiful you have to get your freak on. Beauty is so subjective - only you can ultimately ascertain what is beautiful to you. A mother looking with pride and awe at her child isn't different but it can be seen as beautiful, as she is revealing her true passions and what she holds dear. Man on the street might find a woman who looks like Barbie, boobs and all, the ultimate in beauty. Dude next to him thinks loving kindness is the fountain of beauty. Totally individual. I think a better question is "what makes you feel beautiful?" Or "how do you define beauty?"
Myself, I feel beautiful in water, out with my husband, whenever I wear green or blue.
I think humans can teach each other what beauty means to them. It might make this world a more caring place.
I never know what to say when asked this sort of question. The concept that what makes you different is ultimately what makes you beautiful never sits well with me. It's like saying that to be beautiful you have to get your freak on. Beauty is so subjective - only you can ultimately ascertain what is beautiful to you. A mother looking with pride and awe at her child isn't different but it can be seen as beautiful, as she is revealing her true passions and what she holds dear. Man on the street might find a woman who looks like Barbie, boobs and all, the ultimate in beauty. Dude next to him thinks loving kindness is the fountain of beauty. Totally individual. I think a better question is "what makes you feel beautiful?" Or "how do you define beauty?"
Myself, I feel beautiful in water, out with my husband, whenever I wear green or blue.
I think humans can teach each other what beauty means to them. It might make this world a more caring place.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 7
Prompt: Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011?
Because of the accident, I have been mostly home bound. I started surfing the web for fun and eventually started browsing Etsy and other online shops. This led to style blogs, knitting blogs, entrepreneurial blogs, lifestyle blogs... In short the online community opened itself to me and suddenly home didn't seem so confining. I eventually stumbled upon Bindu Wiles, a Buddhist writer living in NYC and working out of Sarah Lawrence writing school (www.binduwiles.com). Bindu is an interesting person - her blog always provides food for thought. She likes the idea of forming communities online and has run courses online throughout the year.
I did the 21/5/800 - you practice yoga 5 times a week and write 800 words a day for 3 weeks. While the Yoga proved too much, the writing was a delight to do. I had reached a point in my recovery where I wanted a creative outlet, and this challenge proved perfect timing. This is how this blog was born. I initially wanted it to be a resource for other trauma survivors, but so far it has been a resource for me.
Bindu also ran another challenge, the shed project, where we went through our homes and minds and shed/got rid of anything we didn't need or want anymore. Bindu created a group on Flicker and people could post pictures, and she would leave instructions on what to tackle next. She also had guest posts by people who had done this sort of venture in their life - from clearing house to whittling their possessions to 100 items, or a suitcase.
Bindu also ran a writing course which I partook in, and it was there that I started work on a manuscript about the accident and everything since. I am also in the second session, which is running currently.
The online community is interesting - there is something for everybody. I've certainly enjoyed shopping online, and I've made some neat friends and found an outlet for myself for which to express myself. I am also going to PORTLAND,OR in June for the WORLD DOMINATION summit (http://worlddominationsummit.com) , where unconventional people living unconventional lives will meet for 3 days and discuss their lives, the universe and everything in it. The Art of Living Unconventionally is a book by Chris Guillebreau, a purveyor and example of doing just that (www.aonc.com). He writes for a living, has a mission to visit every country in the world within 5 years and is able to do so because of his art of living unconventionally and via the website/blog and the life style aid products he sells there. The trip was an impulsive decision which I think is going to be so much fun. We are hoping to do the summit first and then take our time winding up the NW coast through Seattle to Vancouver, where we can hopefully spend some time with two of our favourite botz's. I miss my banyani. More later.
I also came across Danielle LaPorte who is a entrepreneurial coach (www.whitehottruth.com). She created The Fire Starter Sessions (FSS), which is a guide to discovering what you really want to do in life and how to make career out of said passion. The FSS is said to be mind blowing. She is razor sharp in her vision, focus and writing, and writes blog posts that provide so much to think about and a very interesting take. She is very women oriented and is a very motivational speaker. I purchased the FSS as an investment into mine and Erick's future. I have yet to finish it but already my thought gears are turning.
And then there are the many artist's/creative types who work and small businesses have really impressed me. The handmade movement is so infectious - so much more personal, meaningful and buying handmade puts the money in the pockets of the creator as opposed to the middle man. Much more sustainable, transparent, feel-good. Investing directly into the dreams and creations of others allows for more meaningful experiences, can link one with some lovely people and could ultimately change your life if you let it.
In 2011, I would like to become involved in a sewing community, particularly sewing vintage patterns. I'd also like to be more active on knitting communities, and diving groups online. More writing e-course and workshops would be great.
I would also like to become involved in trauma support groups. I'd like to start a trauma blog for survivors, and see if there are groups locally. St Michael's hospital had very little in terms of support and I would like to see if such a resource could become available. They have a head injury clinic, why not a service for inpatients/outpatients dealing with the outcome of living/recovering from such. Food for thought.
Because of the accident, I have been mostly home bound. I started surfing the web for fun and eventually started browsing Etsy and other online shops. This led to style blogs, knitting blogs, entrepreneurial blogs, lifestyle blogs... In short the online community opened itself to me and suddenly home didn't seem so confining. I eventually stumbled upon Bindu Wiles, a Buddhist writer living in NYC and working out of Sarah Lawrence writing school (www.binduwiles.com). Bindu is an interesting person - her blog always provides food for thought. She likes the idea of forming communities online and has run courses online throughout the year.
I did the 21/5/800 - you practice yoga 5 times a week and write 800 words a day for 3 weeks. While the Yoga proved too much, the writing was a delight to do. I had reached a point in my recovery where I wanted a creative outlet, and this challenge proved perfect timing. This is how this blog was born. I initially wanted it to be a resource for other trauma survivors, but so far it has been a resource for me.
Bindu also ran another challenge, the shed project, where we went through our homes and minds and shed/got rid of anything we didn't need or want anymore. Bindu created a group on Flicker and people could post pictures, and she would leave instructions on what to tackle next. She also had guest posts by people who had done this sort of venture in their life - from clearing house to whittling their possessions to 100 items, or a suitcase.
Bindu also ran a writing course which I partook in, and it was there that I started work on a manuscript about the accident and everything since. I am also in the second session, which is running currently.
The online community is interesting - there is something for everybody. I've certainly enjoyed shopping online, and I've made some neat friends and found an outlet for myself for which to express myself. I am also going to PORTLAND,OR in June for the WORLD DOMINATION summit (http://worlddominationsummit.com) , where unconventional people living unconventional lives will meet for 3 days and discuss their lives, the universe and everything in it. The Art of Living Unconventionally is a book by Chris Guillebreau, a purveyor and example of doing just that (www.aonc.com). He writes for a living, has a mission to visit every country in the world within 5 years and is able to do so because of his art of living unconventionally and via the website/blog and the life style aid products he sells there. The trip was an impulsive decision which I think is going to be so much fun. We are hoping to do the summit first and then take our time winding up the NW coast through Seattle to Vancouver, where we can hopefully spend some time with two of our favourite botz's. I miss my banyani. More later.
I also came across Danielle LaPorte who is a entrepreneurial coach (www.whitehottruth.com). She created The Fire Starter Sessions (FSS), which is a guide to discovering what you really want to do in life and how to make career out of said passion. The FSS is said to be mind blowing. She is razor sharp in her vision, focus and writing, and writes blog posts that provide so much to think about and a very interesting take. She is very women oriented and is a very motivational speaker. I purchased the FSS as an investment into mine and Erick's future. I have yet to finish it but already my thought gears are turning.
And then there are the many artist's/creative types who work and small businesses have really impressed me. The handmade movement is so infectious - so much more personal, meaningful and buying handmade puts the money in the pockets of the creator as opposed to the middle man. Much more sustainable, transparent, feel-good. Investing directly into the dreams and creations of others allows for more meaningful experiences, can link one with some lovely people and could ultimately change your life if you let it.
In 2011, I would like to become involved in a sewing community, particularly sewing vintage patterns. I'd also like to be more active on knitting communities, and diving groups online. More writing e-course and workshops would be great.
I would also like to become involved in trauma support groups. I'd like to start a trauma blog for survivors, and see if there are groups locally. St Michael's hospital had very little in terms of support and I would like to see if such a resource could become available. They have a head injury clinic, why not a service for inpatients/outpatients dealing with the outcome of living/recovering from such. Food for thought.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 6
Prompt: Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?
I'm an avid blog reader, particularly the crafty blogs. The blog Modish did a post about an annual ornament exchange where you are part of a ten person group and make and ornaments for everyone in the group, and then sit back to wait for your ornaments to arrive. It sounded like fun so I joined.
I decided on mice ornaments. I halved and cleaned out the walnut half, made felt ears and tails, glued the ars in the inner top and the tail in the inner bottom, glued in a hazel nut for the head, glued on googly eyes, stuffed the bottom half with batten and covered it with material and voila! A mouse all tucked into his/her walnut half bed.
I finished them tonight, and my husband painted a nose and mouth on the hazel nut.
They are so cute! I want to keep them all!
I also knit, and have compiled a varied yarn stash. I wish I had more time to make more projects, as the rhythm of knitting I find very therapeutic. I also got a sewing machine for my birthday. My husband made a dining room table this fall. He only just finished it so now I have a big surface on which to start sewing.
I also would like to cook more. My head injury has kept me out of the kitchen as I find it quite confusing now, particularly the multitasking. My OTA is gearing our sessions towards cooking these next few month so this week I made a dhal. I used to make large curry spreads - 3-4 dishes at a time - and while this is unattainable currently, it felt nice making dinner this week.
I'm an avid blog reader, particularly the crafty blogs. The blog Modish did a post about an annual ornament exchange where you are part of a ten person group and make and ornaments for everyone in the group, and then sit back to wait for your ornaments to arrive. It sounded like fun so I joined.
I decided on mice ornaments. I halved and cleaned out the walnut half, made felt ears and tails, glued the ars in the inner top and the tail in the inner bottom, glued in a hazel nut for the head, glued on googly eyes, stuffed the bottom half with batten and covered it with material and voila! A mouse all tucked into his/her walnut half bed.
I finished them tonight, and my husband painted a nose and mouth on the hazel nut.
They are so cute! I want to keep them all!
I also knit, and have compiled a varied yarn stash. I wish I had more time to make more projects, as the rhythm of knitting I find very therapeutic. I also got a sewing machine for my birthday. My husband made a dining room table this fall. He only just finished it so now I have a big surface on which to start sewing.
I also would like to cook more. My head injury has kept me out of the kitchen as I find it quite confusing now, particularly the multitasking. My OTA is gearing our sessions towards cooking these next few month so this week I made a dhal. I used to make large curry spreads - 3-4 dishes at a time - and while this is unattainable currently, it felt nice making dinner this week.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 5
Prompt: Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?
I let of a few things this year. A few fair weather friends and some close friends.
I let go of a lot of stuff. The physical stuff I donated or attempted to sell. The metaphysical stuff, well, that's still rattling around somewhere but one day I'll figure that out.
I let go of so much expectation. Expectation in "life long" friends who felt less strongly about that then I did. Expectations in the health care system. Expectations that someone's profession says much about how they are as a person. That the world is ultimately a good/bad place. The notion that humanity and human kind encompasses all like minded traits. In short, I let go of expectation as a deciding factor. It is far too random a term to define anything of value.
When I was younger, I traveled for a spell through the Indian continent and South-East Asia. I spent some time ordained as a novice Buddhist nun in Thailand, at a national park that housed a monastery. There I met two of the most interesting women I'd ever met. Maria was a German lady who had journeyed to Thailand ten years earlier, had fallen in love with Buddhism, traveled back to Germany to sell all her worldly possessions and explain her new life course to a disbelieving family. She had soon returned to Thailand, where she entered the monastery and stayed, her heart and life bound to life by the words of the Buddha. I had never met a Westerner who had so fully renounced and let go of the Western way of life so entirely, in the name of religion. For Maria, religion was such a disposable word to describe what she had found in the monastic way of life. She was very serious most of time, making sure I didn't eat anything except at the one meal time of the day, made sure I counted each mouthful and each bite of the food I did consume. She made me stick to my Buddhist principles, and ensured that I meant them. She was filled with stories related to the Buddha and took great delight in sharing them. I could have listened to her for hours.
Christina was a lady from the USA, whose last city of residence had been Houston. Christina was a nomad: she had lived in many places and studied many things. She told me that she had many degrees and certificates and schools of thought behind her name. She was as warm and open as Maria was serious and reserved. She too had come to Thailand to live as a Buddhist, but for very different reasons. She and I would go on great excursions across the Park to this auspicious cave or that holy field near that holy rock near the river. We once put up our mosquito nets from a low bower of a banyan tree and sat in meditation for the better part of an afternoon. Christina was funny. She loved to make Maria break a smile. They were like Yin and Yang. She fussed over me like a light-hearted big sister, explaining this and that and encouraging me to do better in my studies and meditations, whereas Maria minded me as her desiple or young student, and often chose to say nothing so that I might work out the answer on my own. Both women were awesome to spend time with and they both had my interests at heart.
We were sitting around the house one night, listening to a sermon in Thai by a well revered monk. Maria of course could follow - she spoke German, French, Thai, and Pali. Pali is known as the language from the earliest of Buddhist scriptures, similar to Sanskrit more in a dialectic sense then from an origin of time. Most of the readings and recordings were in Pali, and the prayer books had translations into Thai and English. Pali to the naked, unknowable ear sounded old, I always imagined the Buddha himself speaking it so many centuries ago, particularly in inner monologue form as he sat under the banyan tree, before he gained enlightenment.
Anyhow, Maria would translate the parts she felt were important. Christina was still learning Thai. She stated she would learn Pali when she felt she could get a proper hold of it. During this listening session, Christina grew very quiet, and it wasn't until after the tape had been switched off that she made her thoughts known.
Essentially, Christina felt lost. Her trip to Thailand was another attempt at finding out what she wanted to do with her life. Her greatest anguish was that she excelled at most of what she did, but could never seem to stay rooted to one thing for any long period of time. She had had many failed relationships, too much schooling, and so many experiences that she didn't know what to do with all the knowledge she had gained. In short, she felt she was wasting her life. This had become more apparent each time in the last few years that she had moved. In Houston, she had come close to feeling some sort of satisfaction in her expectations. But that had fallen through and while flailing about, she had found Buddhism. She clung to this find, like it was a life preserver, and had dove headfirst into this new venture, finding solace and peace for the first time in ages. However, because of the trail of broken expectations and disappointments, she decided to put herself to the test. So she sold everything she owned, save a small storage unit in Houston, shaved her head, and had flown to Thailand to lose herself in Buddhism so that she may ultimately find herself. But she feel it not working. And she felt like fleeing. Back to her storage locker? Maybe.
I listened to all this in stunned silence. Everything Christina had just said had floored me. To me, she was the most optimistic, most outgoing and self-assured person ever. Her feelings of flight seemed so familiar, so much like mine. My expectations in her were so different than who she had revealed just now. I looked at Maria, who sat looking at Christina, her lips pursed.
"You need to stay here and stop running away from yourself," said Maria finally. "Where else is a better place to do this than in a monastery, a place of meditation and worship. You need to truly give yourself to Buddha's teachings, and what you seek will reveal itself."
"But I have," said Christina. "It isn't working."
"Of course not. You haven't given yourself to the teachings yet. You go into mediation and wait for something to happen. It isn't a sideshow. It is going within, and watching things as they are meant to occur. So that the outside does not bother you."
"But the inside is bothering me. This is why I want to go."
"No. It is the outside. It is your expectations, your entitlement of what you feel the world owes you, that causes you to flee when they aren't met. Stay here and see them for what they truly may be. Take a vow of silence for ten days. Talk to no one, let nothing distract you from you. Truly give this a chance to take seed."
"I've been studying for months. Months. But nothing! I keep hoping and praying."
"These are expectations. Leave them outside. Truly commit to following the teachings. That is the only way this can work for you."
I almost wanted to smack myself to see if Maria had transformed into a tiny green creature with big green ears and cream coloured robes. There was such conviction, such calm behind her words. Even now, I can still here her speaking to Christina, kindly, but firmly. No sugar coating to be found.
"Westerners, they do this. They throw expectations on everything. They feel hope and try to put meaning on to many things. Why? It seems cruel. The expectation, it becomes so heavy. You don't seem able to measure up to what you expect. Or to what they expect. Who's they?" Maria, I felt, was now addressing both of us.
"Because we are a new continent?" I asked.
Maria smiled. "Maybe. In the European sense. Funny, yes?" She poured some water into a glass, gave it to Christina. "Sleep on it. Jenny and I will go to temple tomorrow. Early morning. If you need to, meditate here. We won't judge." Another ghost of a smile.
Christina took a sip of water, nodded to us both. Then excused herself to her room. I wanted to give her a hug, but was not allowed to. Another precept.
The next morning, it was just Maria and I at temple. I had my most successful meditation session yet. After the meditation, it was made known that a bus was going to take some monks back to Bangkok. Maria was going too. I had a feeling I would be too.
At the house, Christina stated quietly that she would stay behind. "I think I might go silent for a few weeks," she said. Maria smiled, and bowed her head.
Before the bus left later that day, Christina and I walked around the grounds one last time. "You will not stay with me?" she said. "Stay, and we can go inwards together for a few weeks. Even be silent. It will be hot in Bangkok now. Here it will be cooler. More quiet."
"No, I should go back. There are things I need to do." Part of me wanted to stay with her, in the quiet park. But more of me did not want to be a distraction.
As the bus pulled away we waved at each other. I watched her go up the walkway to the house.
On the bus I was quiet. Maria turned around in the seat in front of me. She started telling me a story. I listened only too gladly.
Sometimes when I look at my own expectations in things, I can hear Maria. I don't wonder about her, as I am sure she is sitting somewhere, focused inwards, and on the teachings. Christina, I wonder where she is. If she ever found a place to stay. And if so, does it meet her expectations? Or had she become unburdened?
I let of a few things this year. A few fair weather friends and some close friends.
I let go of a lot of stuff. The physical stuff I donated or attempted to sell. The metaphysical stuff, well, that's still rattling around somewhere but one day I'll figure that out.
I let go of so much expectation. Expectation in "life long" friends who felt less strongly about that then I did. Expectations in the health care system. Expectations that someone's profession says much about how they are as a person. That the world is ultimately a good/bad place. The notion that humanity and human kind encompasses all like minded traits. In short, I let go of expectation as a deciding factor. It is far too random a term to define anything of value.
When I was younger, I traveled for a spell through the Indian continent and South-East Asia. I spent some time ordained as a novice Buddhist nun in Thailand, at a national park that housed a monastery. There I met two of the most interesting women I'd ever met. Maria was a German lady who had journeyed to Thailand ten years earlier, had fallen in love with Buddhism, traveled back to Germany to sell all her worldly possessions and explain her new life course to a disbelieving family. She had soon returned to Thailand, where she entered the monastery and stayed, her heart and life bound to life by the words of the Buddha. I had never met a Westerner who had so fully renounced and let go of the Western way of life so entirely, in the name of religion. For Maria, religion was such a disposable word to describe what she had found in the monastic way of life. She was very serious most of time, making sure I didn't eat anything except at the one meal time of the day, made sure I counted each mouthful and each bite of the food I did consume. She made me stick to my Buddhist principles, and ensured that I meant them. She was filled with stories related to the Buddha and took great delight in sharing them. I could have listened to her for hours.
Christina was a lady from the USA, whose last city of residence had been Houston. Christina was a nomad: she had lived in many places and studied many things. She told me that she had many degrees and certificates and schools of thought behind her name. She was as warm and open as Maria was serious and reserved. She too had come to Thailand to live as a Buddhist, but for very different reasons. She and I would go on great excursions across the Park to this auspicious cave or that holy field near that holy rock near the river. We once put up our mosquito nets from a low bower of a banyan tree and sat in meditation for the better part of an afternoon. Christina was funny. She loved to make Maria break a smile. They were like Yin and Yang. She fussed over me like a light-hearted big sister, explaining this and that and encouraging me to do better in my studies and meditations, whereas Maria minded me as her desiple or young student, and often chose to say nothing so that I might work out the answer on my own. Both women were awesome to spend time with and they both had my interests at heart.
We were sitting around the house one night, listening to a sermon in Thai by a well revered monk. Maria of course could follow - she spoke German, French, Thai, and Pali. Pali is known as the language from the earliest of Buddhist scriptures, similar to Sanskrit more in a dialectic sense then from an origin of time. Most of the readings and recordings were in Pali, and the prayer books had translations into Thai and English. Pali to the naked, unknowable ear sounded old, I always imagined the Buddha himself speaking it so many centuries ago, particularly in inner monologue form as he sat under the banyan tree, before he gained enlightenment.
Anyhow, Maria would translate the parts she felt were important. Christina was still learning Thai. She stated she would learn Pali when she felt she could get a proper hold of it. During this listening session, Christina grew very quiet, and it wasn't until after the tape had been switched off that she made her thoughts known.
Essentially, Christina felt lost. Her trip to Thailand was another attempt at finding out what she wanted to do with her life. Her greatest anguish was that she excelled at most of what she did, but could never seem to stay rooted to one thing for any long period of time. She had had many failed relationships, too much schooling, and so many experiences that she didn't know what to do with all the knowledge she had gained. In short, she felt she was wasting her life. This had become more apparent each time in the last few years that she had moved. In Houston, she had come close to feeling some sort of satisfaction in her expectations. But that had fallen through and while flailing about, she had found Buddhism. She clung to this find, like it was a life preserver, and had dove headfirst into this new venture, finding solace and peace for the first time in ages. However, because of the trail of broken expectations and disappointments, she decided to put herself to the test. So she sold everything she owned, save a small storage unit in Houston, shaved her head, and had flown to Thailand to lose herself in Buddhism so that she may ultimately find herself. But she feel it not working. And she felt like fleeing. Back to her storage locker? Maybe.
I listened to all this in stunned silence. Everything Christina had just said had floored me. To me, she was the most optimistic, most outgoing and self-assured person ever. Her feelings of flight seemed so familiar, so much like mine. My expectations in her were so different than who she had revealed just now. I looked at Maria, who sat looking at Christina, her lips pursed.
"You need to stay here and stop running away from yourself," said Maria finally. "Where else is a better place to do this than in a monastery, a place of meditation and worship. You need to truly give yourself to Buddha's teachings, and what you seek will reveal itself."
"But I have," said Christina. "It isn't working."
"Of course not. You haven't given yourself to the teachings yet. You go into mediation and wait for something to happen. It isn't a sideshow. It is going within, and watching things as they are meant to occur. So that the outside does not bother you."
"But the inside is bothering me. This is why I want to go."
"No. It is the outside. It is your expectations, your entitlement of what you feel the world owes you, that causes you to flee when they aren't met. Stay here and see them for what they truly may be. Take a vow of silence for ten days. Talk to no one, let nothing distract you from you. Truly give this a chance to take seed."
"I've been studying for months. Months. But nothing! I keep hoping and praying."
"These are expectations. Leave them outside. Truly commit to following the teachings. That is the only way this can work for you."
I almost wanted to smack myself to see if Maria had transformed into a tiny green creature with big green ears and cream coloured robes. There was such conviction, such calm behind her words. Even now, I can still here her speaking to Christina, kindly, but firmly. No sugar coating to be found.
"Westerners, they do this. They throw expectations on everything. They feel hope and try to put meaning on to many things. Why? It seems cruel. The expectation, it becomes so heavy. You don't seem able to measure up to what you expect. Or to what they expect. Who's they?" Maria, I felt, was now addressing both of us.
"Because we are a new continent?" I asked.
Maria smiled. "Maybe. In the European sense. Funny, yes?" She poured some water into a glass, gave it to Christina. "Sleep on it. Jenny and I will go to temple tomorrow. Early morning. If you need to, meditate here. We won't judge." Another ghost of a smile.
Christina took a sip of water, nodded to us both. Then excused herself to her room. I wanted to give her a hug, but was not allowed to. Another precept.
The next morning, it was just Maria and I at temple. I had my most successful meditation session yet. After the meditation, it was made known that a bus was going to take some monks back to Bangkok. Maria was going too. I had a feeling I would be too.
At the house, Christina stated quietly that she would stay behind. "I think I might go silent for a few weeks," she said. Maria smiled, and bowed her head.
Before the bus left later that day, Christina and I walked around the grounds one last time. "You will not stay with me?" she said. "Stay, and we can go inwards together for a few weeks. Even be silent. It will be hot in Bangkok now. Here it will be cooler. More quiet."
"No, I should go back. There are things I need to do." Part of me wanted to stay with her, in the quiet park. But more of me did not want to be a distraction.
As the bus pulled away we waved at each other. I watched her go up the walkway to the house.
On the bus I was quiet. Maria turned around in the seat in front of me. She started telling me a story. I listened only too gladly.
Sometimes when I look at my own expectations in things, I can hear Maria. I don't wonder about her, as I am sure she is sitting somewhere, focused inwards, and on the teachings. Christina, I wonder where she is. If she ever found a place to stay. And if so, does it meet her expectations? Or had she become unburdened?
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 4
A friend of ours had a "I got my Canadian citizenship, let's PAARTY" party Friday night so I didn't get around to writing about Prompt 4 till the day after. Oops, you'll forgive me won't you? You, you, you, whoever you are! Anyhow, we dressed up in red and white Nordic best, and drank cheap beer, said "eh?!" a lot, and perpetuated the stereotype that Canadians are all a bunch of hosers. Good fun all around.
I had a case meeting this week with My case manager (CM), Occupational therapist (OT), and physiotherapist (PT). We meet to go over current goals and objectives, scheduling, and where do we go from here. It was intense. My schedule was lightened a bit - we decided to stop Pool for now until the new year and then see if drop sessions for AquaFit at Bloorview (a Rehab facility) would work. We also stopped exercise sessions with the PTA and increased the Pilates to three sessions a week. I am going to start seeing a nutritionist weekly, organize my kitchen enough so that I can start cooking regularly again, figure out what the source of my chronic fatigue is, and try and get a handle finally on my pain issues. In short, a tall list.
Which brings me to yesterday's prompt.
Prompt: Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?
I wouldn't call it wonder, but more amazement. And a hard, cold dose of reality. In Fall of 2009, after the accident, my body was broken, battered, sick and invaded by an infection which pushed my immune system close to the edge. I dropped enough weight to become skeletal. Emotionally I void of feeling. I lived day to day, and some days it was hour to hour. My family rode an emotional roller-coaster that fall - shock, despair, hope, anguish, disbelief, anger, outrage - all these emotions and more plagued those closest to me for months. When I was finally discharged on December 11th came home to an exhausted husband who still had to finish school, pass all sorts of exams and find a job. Not o mention he was now the primary caregiver to a wife who was still sick, broken and very needy of care. I spent most of Christmas on the couch, surrounded by family.
My care team was in place by the New Year. Most of my care was out of home. The winter was spent exercising - I was so weak and atrophied that my PT had to lift my leg for me and I would try to join in. But my care team took over and before long I had someone to talk to, I was medicated for anxiety and depression due to grief and PTSD. In short my recovery became a large organization, multi faceted, employing a large group of people and services, lake a large corporation. Hence the name for this blog, Recovery Inc.
The scope of this recovery has me amazed. I never thought it would become so big. At a care conference there were 12 people, not counting my legal team, reiki, Thai massage and pilates therapists, family, and physicians/surgeons that handled my multi-system care. My team is so big here is a case manager who over seas each professions to ensure every aspect runs smoothly. Despite my profession, I had no idea that recovery from this kind of accident was so large and took so long.
But my amazement is in myself. A year ago I was in rehab, about to be discharged home, barely able to walk. Now I am down to trekking poles, I can walk around my house on my own. I can lift things again. I can do cardio again. I am progressing fast enough in Pilates that another session has been added, one that puts my in charge of my own routine. I have to remember the order of my program, how to set up and run the equipment, and the techniques needed to do the exercise and do it well. My pilates instructor still prompts me but she said I accelerated quickly enough to her having to rethink the course of my program. Even my PT seems impressed, not only with my progress, but with pilates as a whole. High five, Pilates!
I still have so far to go. But when I think back to where I was last December, and where I am now, I am truly amazed. I've come so far. Farther than I thought I could. The human body is incredible. If I have any wonder it's in this body of mine. I was able to heal a severe break and survive an even worse trauma. The fact that I am walking is incredible. I wish I could remember this when things seem bleak or when I am being hard on myself.
So there, wonder. Not shock and awe a la Bush administration, but visceral, cerebral wonder. High my constitution you. Couldn't have done it without you. :)
I had a case meeting this week with My case manager (CM), Occupational therapist (OT), and physiotherapist (PT). We meet to go over current goals and objectives, scheduling, and where do we go from here. It was intense. My schedule was lightened a bit - we decided to stop Pool for now until the new year and then see if drop sessions for AquaFit at Bloorview (a Rehab facility) would work. We also stopped exercise sessions with the PTA and increased the Pilates to three sessions a week. I am going to start seeing a nutritionist weekly, organize my kitchen enough so that I can start cooking regularly again, figure out what the source of my chronic fatigue is, and try and get a handle finally on my pain issues. In short, a tall list.
Which brings me to yesterday's prompt.
Prompt: Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?
I wouldn't call it wonder, but more amazement. And a hard, cold dose of reality. In Fall of 2009, after the accident, my body was broken, battered, sick and invaded by an infection which pushed my immune system close to the edge. I dropped enough weight to become skeletal. Emotionally I void of feeling. I lived day to day, and some days it was hour to hour. My family rode an emotional roller-coaster that fall - shock, despair, hope, anguish, disbelief, anger, outrage - all these emotions and more plagued those closest to me for months. When I was finally discharged on December 11th came home to an exhausted husband who still had to finish school, pass all sorts of exams and find a job. Not o mention he was now the primary caregiver to a wife who was still sick, broken and very needy of care. I spent most of Christmas on the couch, surrounded by family.
My care team was in place by the New Year. Most of my care was out of home. The winter was spent exercising - I was so weak and atrophied that my PT had to lift my leg for me and I would try to join in. But my care team took over and before long I had someone to talk to, I was medicated for anxiety and depression due to grief and PTSD. In short my recovery became a large organization, multi faceted, employing a large group of people and services, lake a large corporation. Hence the name for this blog, Recovery Inc.
The scope of this recovery has me amazed. I never thought it would become so big. At a care conference there were 12 people, not counting my legal team, reiki, Thai massage and pilates therapists, family, and physicians/surgeons that handled my multi-system care. My team is so big here is a case manager who over seas each professions to ensure every aspect runs smoothly. Despite my profession, I had no idea that recovery from this kind of accident was so large and took so long.
But my amazement is in myself. A year ago I was in rehab, about to be discharged home, barely able to walk. Now I am down to trekking poles, I can walk around my house on my own. I can lift things again. I can do cardio again. I am progressing fast enough in Pilates that another session has been added, one that puts my in charge of my own routine. I have to remember the order of my program, how to set up and run the equipment, and the techniques needed to do the exercise and do it well. My pilates instructor still prompts me but she said I accelerated quickly enough to her having to rethink the course of my program. Even my PT seems impressed, not only with my progress, but with pilates as a whole. High five, Pilates!
I still have so far to go. But when I think back to where I was last December, and where I am now, I am truly amazed. I've come so far. Farther than I thought I could. The human body is incredible. If I have any wonder it's in this body of mine. I was able to heal a severe break and survive an even worse trauma. The fact that I am walking is incredible. I wish I could remember this when things seem bleak or when I am being hard on myself.
So there, wonder. Not shock and awe a la Bush administration, but visceral, cerebral wonder. High my constitution you. Couldn't have done it without you. :)
Friday, December 3, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 3
Prompt: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
It was October 12th. Erick and I were seated aboard an 10 seater 2 propeller plane - ORCA AIR - which serviced Vancouver Island and Vancouver. We were gearing for take off. Erick and I were fresh from a doze while waiting in the South Terminal of Vancouver International. I could still taste the overpriced fries I had enjoyed an hour ago during the layover between arriving from Toronto and journeying on to Tofino. Vacation had finally arrived. We had only been planning it since March and it was the first vacation for us since the accident. 13 months ago. Now, seated aboard a small plane, awaiting take off to one of the most beautiful spots in Canada, let alone the rest of the world. We were headed there to watch two of our favourite people get married on the beach beside our clifftop hotel.
The pleather felt rough beneath my fingertips. A dull white colour the seating. Outside the sky was an atypical west coast shade of grey. We could see he mountains in the background.
The plane began taxing away from the terminal. The captain's voice came on the loudspeakers, even though we could reach out and touch him, he was that close. The roar of the propellers and engines initially drowned out his voice.
We reached the runaway and paused for the all clear. I could barely sit still, my heart racing, Erick grinning. Finally, vacation. The plane lurched forward began to pick up speed. My stomach sank into my gut. I could barely stand the suspense. Then, gracefully, the plane tipped back, the nose came up and the back wheels left the runaway. The plane sloped forward with a big rush as we lifted up into the air. I was practically out of my seat with excitement. The plane began to bank to the right and the ocean came into view, endless and silver, stretching out into nothing.
Finally, vacation.
It was October 12th. Erick and I were seated aboard an 10 seater 2 propeller plane - ORCA AIR - which serviced Vancouver Island and Vancouver. We were gearing for take off. Erick and I were fresh from a doze while waiting in the South Terminal of Vancouver International. I could still taste the overpriced fries I had enjoyed an hour ago during the layover between arriving from Toronto and journeying on to Tofino. Vacation had finally arrived. We had only been planning it since March and it was the first vacation for us since the accident. 13 months ago. Now, seated aboard a small plane, awaiting take off to one of the most beautiful spots in Canada, let alone the rest of the world. We were headed there to watch two of our favourite people get married on the beach beside our clifftop hotel.
The pleather felt rough beneath my fingertips. A dull white colour the seating. Outside the sky was an atypical west coast shade of grey. We could see he mountains in the background.
The plane began taxing away from the terminal. The captain's voice came on the loudspeakers, even though we could reach out and touch him, he was that close. The roar of the propellers and engines initially drowned out his voice.
We reached the runaway and paused for the all clear. I could barely sit still, my heart racing, Erick grinning. Finally, vacation. The plane lurched forward began to pick up speed. My stomach sank into my gut. I could barely stand the suspense. Then, gracefully, the plane tipped back, the nose came up and the back wheels left the runaway. The plane sloped forward with a big rush as we lifted up into the air. I was practically out of my seat with excitement. The plane began to bank to the right and the ocean came into view, endless and silver, stretching out into nothing.
Finally, vacation.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Reverb#10 - Day 2
So the prompt for today is this:
Writing. What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing -- and can you eliminate it?
The answer doesn't just apply to writing, but to everything. It is a day to day distraction, prone to whims of impulsivity, whimsy, hours wasted and plans shoved aside. It is a distraction in the truest sense. It allows procrastination room to fester as much as it provides a welcome distraction from a really hard day or feeling lonely and disconnected. It is a necessary evil. It is what brought me to this challenge. "It" being the internet. Naturally.
Some might say it is a chosen distraction - I choose to shelve my plans aside and get lost for hours in blogs and online shopping. It is a social hub, thanks to Facebook and Twitter. It makes benign events and thoughts seem epic enough to tweet about. The internet and the identity it brings or creates is the face of the new generation. Kids today seem to feel this need to announce to everyone what they are doing. Privacy isn't hip anymore, at least not to the newer generations.
When I came home from the hospital the time at home was so lonely. My care was predominantly at my home so people came and went, but they were all there concerning the accident and my rehab. Not much of a distraction. As the excitement and novelty surrounding my predicament waned and fell from the collective radar the loneliness began to creep in. The internet gradually became something for me to do. I discovered al these blogs and stores and places that I had never known of. Etsy became a shopping heaven and eventually I began to meet people and form some relationships. I joined writing groups and online challenges. I found some pretty inspirational people to read about and soon my Inbox was flooded with daily blogs and posts. My Visa bore the brunt of my new hobby. Sometimes I wondered if my shopping was getting out of hand but I managed to restrain myself from bankruptcy. Buying myself presents to make up for hardships or pain or tough situations became an almost daily ritual. It was retail therapy to the max, dude. For awhile the distraction worked. It still does sometimes today. I've come to realize my shopping is ultimately a pick me up hit for my depression and anxiety concerning my situation. But, dude, do I look good!
But anyhow, the prompt. The last paragraph was a perfect example of the distraction the Internet can cause. Amazing.
Although the Internet and all the blogs, pages, shops, collective etc can provide inspiration and it certainly has. I didn't realize what a therapeutic tool the internet could be until I found the writing groups I belonged to. I wouldn't have met my writing coach. I wouldn't have found the motivation guru of the Net - Danielle LaPorte. And I wouldn't be going to Portland on a whim for a convention of remarkable people living remarkable lives, hosted by Chris Guillebreau. So although the internet prevents my writing, it also gives me material to write about. It allows me to exist in places outside of the accident. Hell, it even allows me to start to look back on what happened in the last year and begin to start healing.
My strategies for cutting down the mindless surfing - which I am so guilty of doing.
Close all open windows except for the document I am working on. Work for an hour or whenever creativity grabs a hold, and have a break every hour or so for ten minutes. If surfing is still a problem, take a notebook and a pen to the table and brainstorm or figure out an outline to what I am working on. I could always give myself 75 minutes of internet per day.
For now my personal challenge is to write every day here for the duration of this challenge. And to cut down my time spent surfing the net. I have some plans concerning the internet. Hopefully this challenge will provide the inspiration and motivation to proceed with them.
Writing. What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing -- and can you eliminate it?
The answer doesn't just apply to writing, but to everything. It is a day to day distraction, prone to whims of impulsivity, whimsy, hours wasted and plans shoved aside. It is a distraction in the truest sense. It allows procrastination room to fester as much as it provides a welcome distraction from a really hard day or feeling lonely and disconnected. It is a necessary evil. It is what brought me to this challenge. "It" being the internet. Naturally.
Some might say it is a chosen distraction - I choose to shelve my plans aside and get lost for hours in blogs and online shopping. It is a social hub, thanks to Facebook and Twitter. It makes benign events and thoughts seem epic enough to tweet about. The internet and the identity it brings or creates is the face of the new generation. Kids today seem to feel this need to announce to everyone what they are doing. Privacy isn't hip anymore, at least not to the newer generations.
When I came home from the hospital the time at home was so lonely. My care was predominantly at my home so people came and went, but they were all there concerning the accident and my rehab. Not much of a distraction. As the excitement and novelty surrounding my predicament waned and fell from the collective radar the loneliness began to creep in. The internet gradually became something for me to do. I discovered al these blogs and stores and places that I had never known of. Etsy became a shopping heaven and eventually I began to meet people and form some relationships. I joined writing groups and online challenges. I found some pretty inspirational people to read about and soon my Inbox was flooded with daily blogs and posts. My Visa bore the brunt of my new hobby. Sometimes I wondered if my shopping was getting out of hand but I managed to restrain myself from bankruptcy. Buying myself presents to make up for hardships or pain or tough situations became an almost daily ritual. It was retail therapy to the max, dude. For awhile the distraction worked. It still does sometimes today. I've come to realize my shopping is ultimately a pick me up hit for my depression and anxiety concerning my situation. But, dude, do I look good!
But anyhow, the prompt. The last paragraph was a perfect example of the distraction the Internet can cause. Amazing.
Although the Internet and all the blogs, pages, shops, collective etc can provide inspiration and it certainly has. I didn't realize what a therapeutic tool the internet could be until I found the writing groups I belonged to. I wouldn't have met my writing coach. I wouldn't have found the motivation guru of the Net - Danielle LaPorte. And I wouldn't be going to Portland on a whim for a convention of remarkable people living remarkable lives, hosted by Chris Guillebreau. So although the internet prevents my writing, it also gives me material to write about. It allows me to exist in places outside of the accident. Hell, it even allows me to start to look back on what happened in the last year and begin to start healing.
My strategies for cutting down the mindless surfing - which I am so guilty of doing.
Close all open windows except for the document I am working on. Work for an hour or whenever creativity grabs a hold, and have a break every hour or so for ten minutes. If surfing is still a problem, take a notebook and a pen to the table and brainstorm or figure out an outline to what I am working on. I could always give myself 75 minutes of internet per day.
For now my personal challenge is to write every day here for the duration of this challenge. And to cut down my time spent surfing the net. I have some plans concerning the internet. Hopefully this challenge will provide the inspiration and motivation to proceed with them.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Reverb 10 - Day 1
So today while online, I came across this project - Reverb 10. The premise is to reflect on the past year and manifest what's next. Putting the past year to bed and preparing the motivation juice to jump start the next year. Through daily prompts I will reflect and think about the past year and verbally amp up the next. Sounds cathartic!
The timing is excellent. I just had a team meeting with my case manager, physiotherapist and occupational therapist to discuss my current schedule and forming goals to work towards in the coming months. My sessions with the PTA Heather are now on hiatus to make room for a 3rd weekly session of Pilates, as well as a nutritional consult. Many plans were made and I left the meeting feeling pretty good about things to come. So this challenge feels right. Maybe evoke some good ju ju for once.
So today's prompt.
December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
Recover. The name of this blog and the word of the year. This year has been all about recover for me. Jan 1st 2010 I was house bound, essentially chair bound, very skinny and weak having just been discharged from hospital. I had to figure out home rehab, figure out how to navigate my house. I had to recover what was left of my life and start over. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. So defenceless due to my fragile state. I had the ass of an eighty year old - atrophied and all bone. I had to recover myself from the inside out. Throughout the course of the year what I had lost became apparent and I had to get over the grief, loss and sorrow for my former self. In our apartment I lived with a ghost, the ghost of my former self, in every nook and cranny. Towards the end of the year I regained the weight I had lost and then some. Now very little fits. More loss, as I had amounted a killer wardrobe. I had to recover, head to toe.
Recover - the word of the year.
The timing is excellent. I just had a team meeting with my case manager, physiotherapist and occupational therapist to discuss my current schedule and forming goals to work towards in the coming months. My sessions with the PTA Heather are now on hiatus to make room for a 3rd weekly session of Pilates, as well as a nutritional consult. Many plans were made and I left the meeting feeling pretty good about things to come. So this challenge feels right. Maybe evoke some good ju ju for once.
So today's prompt.
December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
Recover. The name of this blog and the word of the year. This year has been all about recover for me. Jan 1st 2010 I was house bound, essentially chair bound, very skinny and weak having just been discharged from hospital. I had to figure out home rehab, figure out how to navigate my house. I had to recover what was left of my life and start over. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. So defenceless due to my fragile state. I had the ass of an eighty year old - atrophied and all bone. I had to recover myself from the inside out. Throughout the course of the year what I had lost became apparent and I had to get over the grief, loss and sorrow for my former self. In our apartment I lived with a ghost, the ghost of my former self, in every nook and cranny. Towards the end of the year I regained the weight I had lost and then some. Now very little fits. More loss, as I had amounted a killer wardrobe. I had to recover, head to toe.
Recover - the word of the year.
aching neck
517AM - Wednesday morning. Can't sleep. Neck aching. Posture pathetic - hunched like an old crone.
Spent all night surfing the internet. Looking at clothes, blogs etc. Could have been doing a million things instead. Procrastination is the worst enemy when you are house bound. I wish I could get back all the hours I have spent online. And all the money I have spent online. Geebus!
Briit told me today I should be a personal shopper. To do that I would have to have style. I don't feel I do, certainly not for myself. No theme no basics. Just buy, buy, buy. I kidded myself that it was retail therapy but really it is self-indulgence.
Spent all night surfing the internet. Looking at clothes, blogs etc. Could have been doing a million things instead. Procrastination is the worst enemy when you are house bound. I wish I could get back all the hours I have spent online. And all the money I have spent online. Geebus!
Briit told me today I should be a personal shopper. To do that I would have to have style. I don't feel I do, certainly not for myself. No theme no basics. Just buy, buy, buy. I kidded myself that it was retail therapy but really it is self-indulgence.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
mucho bueno
Got the title from a blog post by twitch vintage. Could be a mantra for meditation or a yoga practice.
Last little while has been tedious. I miss blogging regularly. I've been thinking of setting up a lifestyle blog but lack the motivation. Nothing too personal - really just a "Lookit What I found" blog. Some of my friends ask me where I find the items I do, so it might be an nice information gathering venture.
Appointment today with the Pain Clinic. Imaging of my Left foot, a nerve conduction study, trying to isolate the neurogenic issues and pain I have been experiencing. May drop by the ER after, if I'm feeling up to it. Still struggling with the reality that the ER is done for me. It feels like what I imagine it would feel like to be painter and lose control of her hands. Identity changing.
Figured I'd dress up today to feel better. Even if the inside is a mess, decorating the outside can help. One must start somewhere!
Last little while has been tedious. I miss blogging regularly. I've been thinking of setting up a lifestyle blog but lack the motivation. Nothing too personal - really just a "Lookit What I found" blog. Some of my friends ask me where I find the items I do, so it might be an nice information gathering venture.
Appointment today with the Pain Clinic. Imaging of my Left foot, a nerve conduction study, trying to isolate the neurogenic issues and pain I have been experiencing. May drop by the ER after, if I'm feeling up to it. Still struggling with the reality that the ER is done for me. It feels like what I imagine it would feel like to be painter and lose control of her hands. Identity changing.
Figured I'd dress up today to feel better. Even if the inside is a mess, decorating the outside can help. One must start somewhere!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Overdue, shamefully
The worst thing (or at least, the 49th worst thing) is about rehab and recovery is the demotivation that occurs with recovering.
Take for example this blog. I was so gungho about posting, sometimes writing posts to post at later dates. Just like Chris Guillebreau and Danielle La Porte tell you to, so that the well doesn't dry out. If I had already posted for the day, I would write a new post as a word document so I could post it the next day.
During October, the most exciting things to happen in a long time occured but my motivation to post about it went straight out the window!
Maybe it was laziness, maybe it was procrastination. Perhaps I viewed blogging as negative, as it had become my outlet for things that were bothering me. Maybe I just wanted to keep those moments to myself. In retrospect, anything is possible.
But bye and bye, the motivation for blogging left me. Blogging ceased to be an outlet for me and became just another item on the list to tick off. The list on "How to get my LIFE back..."
Given all that I've lost, all that has been taken from me in some form or another, one would think I'd be comping at the bit to whittle away at this list, to get closer to achieving wholeness. Wrong. God, anything but.
October was sacred. It gave me two weeks to step away from my life now, to leave all the rehab and doubt and the angst about recovering and just go west. To the promise land. T and A's wedding was awesome. Fun, delicious, boisterous! I haven't seen E look that relaxed in months. That alone, made the cost all the more worth it.
Take for example this blog. I was so gungho about posting, sometimes writing posts to post at later dates. Just like Chris Guillebreau and Danielle La Porte tell you to, so that the well doesn't dry out. If I had already posted for the day, I would write a new post as a word document so I could post it the next day.
During October, the most exciting things to happen in a long time occured but my motivation to post about it went straight out the window!
Maybe it was laziness, maybe it was procrastination. Perhaps I viewed blogging as negative, as it had become my outlet for things that were bothering me. Maybe I just wanted to keep those moments to myself. In retrospect, anything is possible.
But bye and bye, the motivation for blogging left me. Blogging ceased to be an outlet for me and became just another item on the list to tick off. The list on "How to get my LIFE back..."
Given all that I've lost, all that has been taken from me in some form or another, one would think I'd be comping at the bit to whittle away at this list, to get closer to achieving wholeness. Wrong. God, anything but.
October was sacred. It gave me two weeks to step away from my life now, to leave all the rehab and doubt and the angst about recovering and just go west. To the promise land. T and A's wedding was awesome. Fun, delicious, boisterous! I haven't seen E look that relaxed in months. That alone, made the cost all the more worth it.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
VACAY DAY 2 - Collecting
6AM – day of the wedding. The surf is pounding to the quiet beat of Lightning Dust. Wish I’d seen them live, but seeing as we are now in their home province maybe I could call them up, ask them to busk somewhere so I could sit on a bench nearby and listen. Hmmmm….
The morning was spent on the big tree trail. Tofino is in an inlet, filled with small, jewel like islands. It is also in the Clayquout Sound Biosphere, which is classified as a rain forest. You can feel it all around you – on your skin, which is so soft here, to wafting into your nostrils as the most intoxicating perfume ever. My urban lungs are powerless to resist such a powerful entity that I succumb entirely to it’s hypnotic power, and I float around in a blessed out cloud, at one with nature. Damn smog. It leaves me defenseless to the natural environment.
The big tree trail was accessible only by boat, a 10 minute ride through the mountains to a cove. The weather was fantastic – warm sun, clear day, not much wind. We arrived at the rocky access point to the forest. The Nordic hiking poles my Dad bought me proved invaluable, as they allowed me to navigate the hilly, moist, boardwalk, providing support and traction.
The forest was crisp and beautiful, with majestic old trees soaring overtop, a dark green tinted with golden sunlight against a sky blue. Truly beautiful. The air was thick with the smell of the bark and earth. The calls of birds provided backdrop to the chicanery and giggling that comes with hiking with your friends. Eliav found a Douglas fir to fall in love with. Tim caught our spirits with his camera, but ultimately catalogued our delight at the incredible environment of the forest. Trees so big we could crawl through to stand at the middle. Eliav, when trying to scrabble out of the tree, caught stuck in the trunk as his blackberry was hooked on a branch (?????). We have the pictures to prove it.
Although I kept my glance down, to watch my footing, I was filled with elation that I was actually capable of doing this. A year ago, in my hospital bed, I would have never thought I’d be able to go on vacation, let alone find myself hiking a West Coast trail!
T and A lent us the car for the afternoon, so we went to a local eatery, that I had found last time I was on, to feast on a hearty seafood chowder. I got Erick a surf t-shirt from an espresso shop and Erick inquired into surf lessons for Saturday. We headed to town and say on a patio by the main road, chatting with the E’s as they worked on schoolwork that couldn’t be ignored.
Most of the wedding guests arrived today and convened on the lodge deck for a BBQ, and meet and great. I finally met some of A’s friends who I’d heard so much about. Saw some old faces, which I realized I still didn’t know how to talk to.
My social anxiety crept in around dinnertime. I had to leave the party and go back to my room so I could cry like a baby and purge the mounting anxiety I’d been feeling socializing. With PTSD, the fear can creep in any time. So many of A’s friends told me they’d heard so much about me. This struck a chord, as I assumed they’d meant the accident. Not something I had wanted to be known for. My career goals, fuelled by my disappointment at my predicament fueled together to render me a sobbing wreck. This sorrow, it overtakes me till I barely recognize myself. Convinced I was a bad person because the accident had occurred, I blubbered to Erick that I clearly deserved what had happened to me. Erick, being the incredible person he is, built me back up, he allowed me to cry all over him, said exactly the right thing and got me to smile sooner rather than later. After a calming cigarette, we rejoined the party.
I chatted to many new and old people. The lodge served the most sinfully fantastic cookies at around nine PM, and thankfully, the rum in my drink was Sailor Jerry.
I finally met Kyla. We chatted about traveling, knitting, her Etsy store and growing up in BC. She asked me about the Shed Project, Bindu and the Diamond Cutters writing workshop. Neat chick.
Wedding tomorrow. But first, morning yoga class, which was put together by Caroline, who is my fantastic Thai masseuse, a talented yogi and even better friend. Then back to the lodge to primp and get dressed at Ariella’s cabin. Then the ceremony, followed by dinner at the lodge and the party afterwards. Such a busy, awesome day packed with love and light and socializing and imbibing and dancing and posing.
The morning was spent on the big tree trail. Tofino is in an inlet, filled with small, jewel like islands. It is also in the Clayquout Sound Biosphere, which is classified as a rain forest. You can feel it all around you – on your skin, which is so soft here, to wafting into your nostrils as the most intoxicating perfume ever. My urban lungs are powerless to resist such a powerful entity that I succumb entirely to it’s hypnotic power, and I float around in a blessed out cloud, at one with nature. Damn smog. It leaves me defenseless to the natural environment.
The big tree trail was accessible only by boat, a 10 minute ride through the mountains to a cove. The weather was fantastic – warm sun, clear day, not much wind. We arrived at the rocky access point to the forest. The Nordic hiking poles my Dad bought me proved invaluable, as they allowed me to navigate the hilly, moist, boardwalk, providing support and traction.
The forest was crisp and beautiful, with majestic old trees soaring overtop, a dark green tinted with golden sunlight against a sky blue. Truly beautiful. The air was thick with the smell of the bark and earth. The calls of birds provided backdrop to the chicanery and giggling that comes with hiking with your friends. Eliav found a Douglas fir to fall in love with. Tim caught our spirits with his camera, but ultimately catalogued our delight at the incredible environment of the forest. Trees so big we could crawl through to stand at the middle. Eliav, when trying to scrabble out of the tree, caught stuck in the trunk as his blackberry was hooked on a branch (?????). We have the pictures to prove it.
Although I kept my glance down, to watch my footing, I was filled with elation that I was actually capable of doing this. A year ago, in my hospital bed, I would have never thought I’d be able to go on vacation, let alone find myself hiking a West Coast trail!
T and A lent us the car for the afternoon, so we went to a local eatery, that I had found last time I was on, to feast on a hearty seafood chowder. I got Erick a surf t-shirt from an espresso shop and Erick inquired into surf lessons for Saturday. We headed to town and say on a patio by the main road, chatting with the E’s as they worked on schoolwork that couldn’t be ignored.
Most of the wedding guests arrived today and convened on the lodge deck for a BBQ, and meet and great. I finally met some of A’s friends who I’d heard so much about. Saw some old faces, which I realized I still didn’t know how to talk to.
My social anxiety crept in around dinnertime. I had to leave the party and go back to my room so I could cry like a baby and purge the mounting anxiety I’d been feeling socializing. With PTSD, the fear can creep in any time. So many of A’s friends told me they’d heard so much about me. This struck a chord, as I assumed they’d meant the accident. Not something I had wanted to be known for. My career goals, fuelled by my disappointment at my predicament fueled together to render me a sobbing wreck. This sorrow, it overtakes me till I barely recognize myself. Convinced I was a bad person because the accident had occurred, I blubbered to Erick that I clearly deserved what had happened to me. Erick, being the incredible person he is, built me back up, he allowed me to cry all over him, said exactly the right thing and got me to smile sooner rather than later. After a calming cigarette, we rejoined the party.
I chatted to many new and old people. The lodge served the most sinfully fantastic cookies at around nine PM, and thankfully, the rum in my drink was Sailor Jerry.
I finally met Kyla. We chatted about traveling, knitting, her Etsy store and growing up in BC. She asked me about the Shed Project, Bindu and the Diamond Cutters writing workshop. Neat chick.
Wedding tomorrow. But first, morning yoga class, which was put together by Caroline, who is my fantastic Thai masseuse, a talented yogi and even better friend. Then back to the lodge to primp and get dressed at Ariella’s cabin. Then the ceremony, followed by dinner at the lodge and the party afterwards. Such a busy, awesome day packed with love and light and socializing and imbibing and dancing and posing.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
VACAY DAY 1
Pitch black outside. The sound of the roaring, rolling surf filtering in my open window. The air smells so fresh, so clean. Like a drug.
By a limo to a big plane to a little plane we arrived in Tofino, BC by mid afternoon. I’m still in a daze. So much planning, nail biting, healing, praying and now, here we are.
ON VACATION.
The wedding is the day after tomorrow. We were the first guests to arrive. We figured taking an extra day to settle in was wise given the frenzy of arrivals that will monopolize tomorrow. A. and her mum are taking us to the big tree trail tomorrow morning on a nearby island, to walk along a boardwalk and take in the soaring cathedral like trees of the coast line.
The last time we went away, we went to Egypt to dive in the Red Sea. Absolute heaven and tranquil calm awaited us under the sea. Exploding colour and serenity with so much marine life, we would sometimes just float in the ebb and flow of the current. One of the best parts was the chance to adventure independently, at our own pace. The second half of our trip we journeyed up the Nile and were taken back in time to the time of the pharaohs. Spent our last week in Rome – eating, walking, shopping and more walking. 3 weeks of ancient wonder.
Tofino is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Small fishing town with stellar surf, nestled on a bay below the rain forest of Clayquot Sound. The craggy mountains and rocky shores, with big majestic redwoods and Douglas fir, moody gray and silver toned sky. There is so much natural beauty. It’s mind blowing.
E’s never been to Vancouver Island. Only half a day spent here, and already he’s in love with the rain forest and ocean. I doubt it would take much convincing for him to consider moving our life out here.
My back has been acting up all day, due, I think, to the cramped sitting on both flights. Lounged in T-botz’s hot tub, took an easy stroll along the beach, sipped some honey mead. Resting in bed while E joined the families for dinner in town. I’m too sore to go along. I am worried that this will be a common theme this week. Unfortunately I don’t have the crazy endurance that I did the last time I was here.
I love the sound of the ocean beating against the shore. So lulling, so captivating. I love falling asleep to the sounds and hissing of the ocean. I’m thinking of renting a wetsuit and bobbing about in the shallows while Erick has his surfing lessons. Hydrotherapy and negative ions = optimal health.
By a limo to a big plane to a little plane we arrived in Tofino, BC by mid afternoon. I’m still in a daze. So much planning, nail biting, healing, praying and now, here we are.
ON VACATION.
The wedding is the day after tomorrow. We were the first guests to arrive. We figured taking an extra day to settle in was wise given the frenzy of arrivals that will monopolize tomorrow. A. and her mum are taking us to the big tree trail tomorrow morning on a nearby island, to walk along a boardwalk and take in the soaring cathedral like trees of the coast line.
The last time we went away, we went to Egypt to dive in the Red Sea. Absolute heaven and tranquil calm awaited us under the sea. Exploding colour and serenity with so much marine life, we would sometimes just float in the ebb and flow of the current. One of the best parts was the chance to adventure independently, at our own pace. The second half of our trip we journeyed up the Nile and were taken back in time to the time of the pharaohs. Spent our last week in Rome – eating, walking, shopping and more walking. 3 weeks of ancient wonder.
Tofino is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Small fishing town with stellar surf, nestled on a bay below the rain forest of Clayquot Sound. The craggy mountains and rocky shores, with big majestic redwoods and Douglas fir, moody gray and silver toned sky. There is so much natural beauty. It’s mind blowing.
E’s never been to Vancouver Island. Only half a day spent here, and already he’s in love with the rain forest and ocean. I doubt it would take much convincing for him to consider moving our life out here.
My back has been acting up all day, due, I think, to the cramped sitting on both flights. Lounged in T-botz’s hot tub, took an easy stroll along the beach, sipped some honey mead. Resting in bed while E joined the families for dinner in town. I’m too sore to go along. I am worried that this will be a common theme this week. Unfortunately I don’t have the crazy endurance that I did the last time I was here.
I love the sound of the ocean beating against the shore. So lulling, so captivating. I love falling asleep to the sounds and hissing of the ocean. I’m thinking of renting a wetsuit and bobbing about in the shallows while Erick has his surfing lessons. Hydrotherapy and negative ions = optimal health.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Calm before the storm
539AM. Cannot sleep. Team conference today. Everyone is meeting to discuss my path of care - PT, OT, SW, Masseuse, Bill from OV. The adjuster from BD. I'm hoping not all of this conference will be spent addressing ongoing issues with the adjuster. This is supposed to be about my care but there have been so many problems with this adjuster that my care is becoming impacted. Delayed responses to Tx plans or no response at all. Repeated mistakes, odd denials of Tx vs. odd approvals of Tx - no sense to it. Never returning phone calls. Seems to dislike reading reports. No payments received. It would be easy to label this woman incompetent but no one is sure if that is the issue. Is all this delay, this headache indicative of the insurance business or is this delay being orchestrated purposely by the insurance company. So frustrating. Back when I was discharged from Bridgepoint, Holly suggested a tempurpedic mattress would be easier to sleep on and improve circulation while decreasing stiffness. Dr Ahn wrote me a prescription, the Tx plan was sent off and we waited. The obligatory 10 days for BD to respond came and went with no answer. Holly phoned, left messages and e-mails still no answer. Almost 3 weeks later Holly got a hold of the adjuster who stated she had never received the Tx plan. When she checked the fax - lo and behold! - there it was sitting there, along with many other Tx plans for myself. The adjuster never checked the fax.
Eventually appproval was granted. Still no check. Holly called to arrange delivery of the mattress and to set up a bill. Holly called the adjuster, was told she has sent the check to Holly's office. when Holly checked the address the adjuster had, it was wrong. Holly gave the correct address, double checked what had been been noted and waited. Still no payment. The adjuster had sent the check to the wrong address again. The lawyers got involved. TWO MONTHS after I had obtained the RX, I finally got my bed.
I also received a Rx for a recliner, as I could sit on any of the chairs and the couch currently in the living room. Seeing as this was where I would pass most of my day, Holly decided to put in a Tx plan for the chair. We went ahead and bought it, because I had no where comfortable to sit. The response finally came a few months later. Denied because the reason for it was not understood. The adjuster paid for an independent OT to come and assess my need for such a chair. He arrived with no background, no list of injuries, no history of the accident. All he was given was one page from another persons chart. Once he saw my state and read though some of our copies of the reports he agreed completely with the Rx and state he would give approval for the chair. To this day, we have heard nothing.
This whole predicament has me thankful that I have a legal team who advocates for me. I never have to deal with the adjuster. I could not imagine being in the condition I was upon discharge and then having to start chasing the insurance company for benefits. This stressor would have had a serious impact on my mental health, but especially on Erick's as he would have most likely dealt with it when I was too upset. The MBI clinic the nurse clinician told me that insurance was a big issue at this clinic. Some Pt's are discharged with no lawyer, no community support and have to start dealing with the insurance. I cannot imagine what this is like and whenever I get frustrated with my lawyers or care givers I try to remember how lucky I am to have them advocating and caring for me.
With the changes brought in on September 1st, insurance has changed drastically - much has been taken away from consumers. Yet no one would know this unless they pay attention to this area, or they are dependent on the insurance companies. The pay out for non-CAT pt's has been slashed in half. Attendant care, housekeeping and anything involved with the home etc. is now extra. Before, these benefits were not taken from the maximum amount of the policy. not it is being deducted from the total amount given. If the public knew just how much was being taken away from them, I think they would be furious. But because this is accessible only when the worst happens, no one thinks about it or pays attention. So typically human.
Eventually appproval was granted. Still no check. Holly called to arrange delivery of the mattress and to set up a bill. Holly called the adjuster, was told she has sent the check to Holly's office. when Holly checked the address the adjuster had, it was wrong. Holly gave the correct address, double checked what had been been noted and waited. Still no payment. The adjuster had sent the check to the wrong address again. The lawyers got involved. TWO MONTHS after I had obtained the RX, I finally got my bed.
I also received a Rx for a recliner, as I could sit on any of the chairs and the couch currently in the living room. Seeing as this was where I would pass most of my day, Holly decided to put in a Tx plan for the chair. We went ahead and bought it, because I had no where comfortable to sit. The response finally came a few months later. Denied because the reason for it was not understood. The adjuster paid for an independent OT to come and assess my need for such a chair. He arrived with no background, no list of injuries, no history of the accident. All he was given was one page from another persons chart. Once he saw my state and read though some of our copies of the reports he agreed completely with the Rx and state he would give approval for the chair. To this day, we have heard nothing.
This whole predicament has me thankful that I have a legal team who advocates for me. I never have to deal with the adjuster. I could not imagine being in the condition I was upon discharge and then having to start chasing the insurance company for benefits. This stressor would have had a serious impact on my mental health, but especially on Erick's as he would have most likely dealt with it when I was too upset. The MBI clinic the nurse clinician told me that insurance was a big issue at this clinic. Some Pt's are discharged with no lawyer, no community support and have to start dealing with the insurance. I cannot imagine what this is like and whenever I get frustrated with my lawyers or care givers I try to remember how lucky I am to have them advocating and caring for me.
With the changes brought in on September 1st, insurance has changed drastically - much has been taken away from consumers. Yet no one would know this unless they pay attention to this area, or they are dependent on the insurance companies. The pay out for non-CAT pt's has been slashed in half. Attendant care, housekeeping and anything involved with the home etc. is now extra. Before, these benefits were not taken from the maximum amount of the policy. not it is being deducted from the total amount given. If the public knew just how much was being taken away from them, I think they would be furious. But because this is accessible only when the worst happens, no one thinks about it or pays attention. So typically human.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Aftermath
The last day has flitted by in a blur. Situation with a friend reached a nasty rolling boil. Emotions raging, I ranted at a keyboard, poured the acidic bile out of my heart and mind, to see if I could make sense of the cloudy mirk staring me in the face, from a too bright screen. I fell out of my chair and sent an e-mail that was never to be sent. A volcano of hurtful reactions was hurtled back at me and I cannot really blame the poor soul. I sent him quite the bitch slap. Course, he backhanded bitch slapped me and everything fell apart. Good thing my level headed man friend stepped in and smoothed things over. Bless him. Still reeling, but not as fast.
All week I've been sitting more than doing, slothing more than being productive. This happens all too often. It's like my body goes on strike and waits for my mind to slow down. Fatigue is an enemy of rehab. Suc a fine balance - I have to push myself to make limits more pliable, but push too far and I fall with a crash. I tackled a 30 day yoga challenge a while back. Pre-hard ware removal I had begun doing yoga to calm my mind and increase my flexibility, while strengthening my core. Days 1 to 4 were filled with savasanna, light poses and easy, breezy sun salutations, slow like molasses. On day 5 I decided to try a yoga video I had bought online for 21.5.800. Threw myself in with vigorous aplomb but forgot my flotation device. I could barely walk due to too long in pigeon pose, my lower back and gluts were on fire. The next 4 days were recovery, massage and self-scouldings to be kinder to myself.
There is such a pressure to perform in rehab, especially for a perfectionist like myself. If I'm progressing each class I get frustrated. This rehab has been so intermittent, stalled and difficult. Not much flow, nothing continuous be it illness, double booking, rescheduling. It is so easy to lose motivation. So easy to fall into depression.
I haven't had a depressive episode in a while. The anniversary of the accident was hard, but I didn't cry as hard as I thought I would. I started cognitive behavioural therapy a few weeks ago. My therapist is kind, empathetic, the most thoughtful person ever, and clearly driven to provide her clients with the most holistic service possible. I have a CBT notebook to take notes in. She wants me to bring her a copy of my manuscript. I may let her read this blog. She suggests books for me to read, even gave me a book for Erick to read, so we could understand trauma together. I see her every other week and I find her sessions helpful. I also have a social worker who I see weekly and a psychiatrist who keeps track of my medications and mood, and encourages me to share my thoughts and feelings regarding care, the accident etc.
I f anything, Anger is the dominant emotion for me currently. I am so mad at so many things it quickly becomes so overwhelming. I get irritable about the silliest things - noise, neighbours, comments E makes, my own mess and disorganization. Scheduling has become a problem,, as I keep forgetting to input plans into my smart phone. Often I'll get calls asking if plans still work, and I have forgotten all about them. My memory is terrible. Anything short term is very difficult to recall. ith long term memories, not so much. It becomes so frustrating and I often feel that I can't seem to keep my life balanced and in check. Holly my OT and I have been working on strategies, such as carrying my smart phone, med dosette and keys in a pocket. Problem is, have the time I forget to do this, or I misplace the jacket etc. where I put all my vital items. We got a keyless door lock so that I do not have to worry about keys. Sometimes I forget the code but mostly the lock has worked out well.
Sleep continues to be an issue. It is 4AM as I write this post. My eyes are heavy, my body tired yet still I can't drop off to sleep.Late nights seem to become late starts and then my day is all out of whack, all my plans get diverted by my fatigue.
All week I've been sitting more than doing, slothing more than being productive. This happens all too often. It's like my body goes on strike and waits for my mind to slow down. Fatigue is an enemy of rehab. Suc a fine balance - I have to push myself to make limits more pliable, but push too far and I fall with a crash. I tackled a 30 day yoga challenge a while back. Pre-hard ware removal I had begun doing yoga to calm my mind and increase my flexibility, while strengthening my core. Days 1 to 4 were filled with savasanna, light poses and easy, breezy sun salutations, slow like molasses. On day 5 I decided to try a yoga video I had bought online for 21.5.800. Threw myself in with vigorous aplomb but forgot my flotation device. I could barely walk due to too long in pigeon pose, my lower back and gluts were on fire. The next 4 days were recovery, massage and self-scouldings to be kinder to myself.
There is such a pressure to perform in rehab, especially for a perfectionist like myself. If I'm progressing each class I get frustrated. This rehab has been so intermittent, stalled and difficult. Not much flow, nothing continuous be it illness, double booking, rescheduling. It is so easy to lose motivation. So easy to fall into depression.
I haven't had a depressive episode in a while. The anniversary of the accident was hard, but I didn't cry as hard as I thought I would. I started cognitive behavioural therapy a few weeks ago. My therapist is kind, empathetic, the most thoughtful person ever, and clearly driven to provide her clients with the most holistic service possible. I have a CBT notebook to take notes in. She wants me to bring her a copy of my manuscript. I may let her read this blog. She suggests books for me to read, even gave me a book for Erick to read, so we could understand trauma together. I see her every other week and I find her sessions helpful. I also have a social worker who I see weekly and a psychiatrist who keeps track of my medications and mood, and encourages me to share my thoughts and feelings regarding care, the accident etc.
I f anything, Anger is the dominant emotion for me currently. I am so mad at so many things it quickly becomes so overwhelming. I get irritable about the silliest things - noise, neighbours, comments E makes, my own mess and disorganization. Scheduling has become a problem,, as I keep forgetting to input plans into my smart phone. Often I'll get calls asking if plans still work, and I have forgotten all about them. My memory is terrible. Anything short term is very difficult to recall. ith long term memories, not so much. It becomes so frustrating and I often feel that I can't seem to keep my life balanced and in check. Holly my OT and I have been working on strategies, such as carrying my smart phone, med dosette and keys in a pocket. Problem is, have the time I forget to do this, or I misplace the jacket etc. where I put all my vital items. We got a keyless door lock so that I do not have to worry about keys. Sometimes I forget the code but mostly the lock has worked out well.
Sleep continues to be an issue. It is 4AM as I write this post. My eyes are heavy, my body tired yet still I can't drop off to sleep.Late nights seem to become late starts and then my day is all out of whack, all my plans get diverted by my fatigue.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Silent night
Silent Night. Quiet, after a raging thunder storm and sheets of rain.
Today started with a bang over at the shed project. Bindu issued a declaration, a slogan, for the shed project. It is: FUCK YOU!
Naturally someone got offended, drama ensued. A member left, cursing the project. order was restored. Somewhat.
Bindu's provocative slogan resonated into my life today. I literally awoke to a mess in my Inbox. A long time friend screwed us over some long laid plans. Apparently a life long friendship is worth $193 and an inability to organize oneself. I tried so hard to make this seamless, e-mailed, researched, organized and for what. A fuck you to the face. I can't sleep I am so upset.
I spoke to the claims adjuster on my legal team today. The insurance company seems to have stopped paying out what they owe me, and with the team meeting next week I am worried that this meeting, which is supposed to be about me, will end up being about this idiot adjuster's incompetence. Completely unacceptable and it makes me so incredibly angry. To think of how much we've paid into car insurance only to be stonewalled by a farce of am adjuster. My lawyers have to undertake harsher measures to obtain way the insurance
I guess this is what my therapy is for. To help me navigate my way through the stages of grief and loss.To figure out why Erick and I always get screwed, why we seem to be targets for the behaviour of others? I am so tired of dealing with other people's shit. I am really beginning to lose my faith in humanity. I feel so much anger building up inside me. Things need to change.
I have Pilates in a few hours, which is the best part of my week. I just hope I can stay awake for the session.
One of my assets or vices, is I care too much about others. i always put myself out there, open to the issues of others. I try to help, get frustrated when it isn't reciprocated. I think I held on to a certain group of friends too long. That maybe it would be better to let them all go. Make new friends, like I did when I was traveling. The problem with travel friends is once you are home, the context is gone. Harder to stay in tough with friends in their natural habit because they will be different at home. The best part about travel was becoming a different person. Clean slate, no one knows you. You can live completely in the moment, without the weight of the past or future.
It would be wicked to be able to change the way I see things. I see only the failures, which overshadow the richness of experiences and makes everything seem horrible. I wish I could only focus on the good stuff, life's treasured moments. A self goal for this time off, maybe even for the shed project if I can get to it, is to go through all my travel photos and saved mementos from my wander years and make a scrapbook, a record of all the amazing stuff. Learning from the bad stuff, while focusing on the positive.
So far I have thinned my closet, my books, my Cds and Dvds. I want to go through my personal effects. I want to work regularly on my manuscript, beginning with re=reading all the critiques from Diamond Cutters, and making a list of chapters, so I can expand my work. I want to attack the basement, organize and purge the clutter.
Beside her drama llama, Bindu also posted a fantastic post bu a guest writer. http://binduwiles.com/buddhism/the-shed-project-guest-post-from-rebecca-self/
The writer stated that our lives should be filled with stuff we love and cherish and use. Our possessions should make us happy, not stressed. Same is true with our friends. Forget emotional attachment or obligatory stuff, and own only items which allow us to shine and be productive. This outlook, while written within a sad context, spoke to me so clearly. Such an overly simple concept. I am quite preoccupied with this drama of my own but once a solution is found I think I am going to take a good look at what sort of existence I truly have and how to improve it or clean it out.
I am so tired of the inefficiencies of others. It is time for some me time.
Today started with a bang over at the shed project. Bindu issued a declaration, a slogan, for the shed project. It is: FUCK YOU!
Naturally someone got offended, drama ensued. A member left, cursing the project. order was restored. Somewhat.
Bindu's provocative slogan resonated into my life today. I literally awoke to a mess in my Inbox. A long time friend screwed us over some long laid plans. Apparently a life long friendship is worth $193 and an inability to organize oneself. I tried so hard to make this seamless, e-mailed, researched, organized and for what. A fuck you to the face. I can't sleep I am so upset.
I spoke to the claims adjuster on my legal team today. The insurance company seems to have stopped paying out what they owe me, and with the team meeting next week I am worried that this meeting, which is supposed to be about me, will end up being about this idiot adjuster's incompetence. Completely unacceptable and it makes me so incredibly angry. To think of how much we've paid into car insurance only to be stonewalled by a farce of am adjuster. My lawyers have to undertake harsher measures to obtain way the insurance
I guess this is what my therapy is for. To help me navigate my way through the stages of grief and loss.To figure out why Erick and I always get screwed, why we seem to be targets for the behaviour of others? I am so tired of dealing with other people's shit. I am really beginning to lose my faith in humanity. I feel so much anger building up inside me. Things need to change.
I have Pilates in a few hours, which is the best part of my week. I just hope I can stay awake for the session.
One of my assets or vices, is I care too much about others. i always put myself out there, open to the issues of others. I try to help, get frustrated when it isn't reciprocated. I think I held on to a certain group of friends too long. That maybe it would be better to let them all go. Make new friends, like I did when I was traveling. The problem with travel friends is once you are home, the context is gone. Harder to stay in tough with friends in their natural habit because they will be different at home. The best part about travel was becoming a different person. Clean slate, no one knows you. You can live completely in the moment, without the weight of the past or future.
It would be wicked to be able to change the way I see things. I see only the failures, which overshadow the richness of experiences and makes everything seem horrible. I wish I could only focus on the good stuff, life's treasured moments. A self goal for this time off, maybe even for the shed project if I can get to it, is to go through all my travel photos and saved mementos from my wander years and make a scrapbook, a record of all the amazing stuff. Learning from the bad stuff, while focusing on the positive.
So far I have thinned my closet, my books, my Cds and Dvds. I want to go through my personal effects. I want to work regularly on my manuscript, beginning with re=reading all the critiques from Diamond Cutters, and making a list of chapters, so I can expand my work. I want to attack the basement, organize and purge the clutter.
Beside her drama llama, Bindu also posted a fantastic post bu a guest writer. http://binduwiles.com/buddhism/the-shed-project-guest-post-from-rebecca-self/
The writer stated that our lives should be filled with stuff we love and cherish and use. Our possessions should make us happy, not stressed. Same is true with our friends. Forget emotional attachment or obligatory stuff, and own only items which allow us to shine and be productive. This outlook, while written within a sad context, spoke to me so clearly. Such an overly simple concept. I am quite preoccupied with this drama of my own but once a solution is found I think I am going to take a good look at what sort of existence I truly have and how to improve it or clean it out.
I am so tired of the inefficiencies of others. It is time for some me time.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Sleeplessness and Similies
Awoke at 5AM, couldn't sleep. Boo.
Busy day today. OT, PTA, Diamond cutters. Doesn't look busy but for my limited energy expenditure it will be. So frustrating.
If someone were to ask me what was the largest hurdle to overcome throughout my entire recovery I would have to say that the fatigue factor wins hands down. No matter how good you slept the night before, no matter how nutritious and energy boosting the meal plan, no matter how pumped up you are to have the best day ever, fatigue or low energy can still wreck all your plans. So incredibly frustrating. Some days making breakfast puts me on the couch for a good hour. Walking the dog around the block can bring on a three hour nap. It amazes me that despite my being active for ten months now, I still feel like I've just been discharged from rehab. The weariness, the droopiness. The sleeplessness.
My banyani recommended Badger Sleep Balm for enhancing slumber. Lovely citrus lavender scent. Rub it on your temples, under your nose and bam!, you're put out like a light. Most nights.
Insomnia has always been a friend of mine. Sleepless nights for no reason other than my brain won't shut down for sleep. Always running, constant ticking. Deep yogic breathing helps sometimes. I'll think back to my time at the Vipassana retreat where even there I still had bouts of insomnia. Despite a waking silence, the mind will not quieten down. I've counted so many sheep that I could make a sweater from all the wool caught in the fence. When I was little I used to think that they should make a nighttime film reel to play on the wall opposite your bed. Sheep jumping over the fence. Polar bears skating in circles. Headbangers doing their thing on repeat. What ever the fancy. I wonder if I should patent these sleepless mind farts, in case there's money to be made from the madness that ensues.
Pain keeps me up. In my back, in my heels, in my foot. Burnings, pulsating, creeping, nagging. A painless night is a treat. Eat it by the spoonful, enjoy it till the reprieve is over. I finally got an appointment at the Wasser Pain Clinic by playing the employee card I didn't realize I had. One of my physician colleagues spoke to the head MD of the emerg, and he spoke to the head of the pain clininc. They made an appointment for me. Maybe this will help. Pain clinics are a wealth of knowledge for just about anything. I am hoping they will have sleeplessness clinics. Coping strategies to make it through the day. I am coping for now but soon the long acting pain meds will have to be weaned down.
I never tell anyone that I am terrified of the pain coming back. I remember those days in hospital where something was on fire and I was too immobilized to do anything except cry and press the call button for the nurse. One night when the pain in my foot was tag teaming with my general discomfort and back pain, I rang for the nurse and an ally appeared. An agency nurse, picking up a shift that night. She came in, all in white, middle aged.
"What do you need, honey?" she said tiredly.
"for my pain to stop," I warbled, tears streaming down my cheeks.
The nurse rounded the bed, her eyes sweeping my small broken form. She helped me reposition, Helped me roll from side to side, tuck a pillow under my aching side.
"I remember where you are," she said. She told me that 20+ years prior she had been in a bad car accident, had been t-boned at an intersection by a impatient driver who had sped through and not seen her till to late. Her back was a mess, multiple fracture down one side. She said it took a few months in hospital, even double in rehab before she felt like herself again. She couldn't sit for long periods of time and felt numb down the left side of her body. She felt the financial disparity of her situation and went back to work too early.
"I see you lying here and you remind me so much of myself back then." She was leaning against the bed, rubbing my foot. "I know how frightened you are. "It's almost worse to be a health care professional and a patient because you are privy to the inside scoop of what's really going on."
I could feel my eyes filling up again as I listened to her tell her story. More than anything, her story was filing me with hope that I do would recover and nurse again. I was really missing it during those first few days on the Trauma unit. Add to that the enormous amount of stress this situation was causing in every aspect of my life, well, it's no wonder I was crying about foot pain. I could have cried 1000 oceans of tears and may not even touch the surface off all that was troubling me. Grief is like a layer cake, the superficial aspects don't take long to show themselves but as the trajectory of accident moves along, the deeper issues begin to show themselves. I am now just starting to understand what the actual impact of this accident has had on my life, with more to follow I'm sure. The legal end, for starters. Whoa.
Busy day today. OT, PTA, Diamond cutters. Doesn't look busy but for my limited energy expenditure it will be. So frustrating.
If someone were to ask me what was the largest hurdle to overcome throughout my entire recovery I would have to say that the fatigue factor wins hands down. No matter how good you slept the night before, no matter how nutritious and energy boosting the meal plan, no matter how pumped up you are to have the best day ever, fatigue or low energy can still wreck all your plans. So incredibly frustrating. Some days making breakfast puts me on the couch for a good hour. Walking the dog around the block can bring on a three hour nap. It amazes me that despite my being active for ten months now, I still feel like I've just been discharged from rehab. The weariness, the droopiness. The sleeplessness.
My banyani recommended Badger Sleep Balm for enhancing slumber. Lovely citrus lavender scent. Rub it on your temples, under your nose and bam!, you're put out like a light. Most nights.
Insomnia has always been a friend of mine. Sleepless nights for no reason other than my brain won't shut down for sleep. Always running, constant ticking. Deep yogic breathing helps sometimes. I'll think back to my time at the Vipassana retreat where even there I still had bouts of insomnia. Despite a waking silence, the mind will not quieten down. I've counted so many sheep that I could make a sweater from all the wool caught in the fence. When I was little I used to think that they should make a nighttime film reel to play on the wall opposite your bed. Sheep jumping over the fence. Polar bears skating in circles. Headbangers doing their thing on repeat. What ever the fancy. I wonder if I should patent these sleepless mind farts, in case there's money to be made from the madness that ensues.
Pain keeps me up. In my back, in my heels, in my foot. Burnings, pulsating, creeping, nagging. A painless night is a treat. Eat it by the spoonful, enjoy it till the reprieve is over. I finally got an appointment at the Wasser Pain Clinic by playing the employee card I didn't realize I had. One of my physician colleagues spoke to the head MD of the emerg, and he spoke to the head of the pain clininc. They made an appointment for me. Maybe this will help. Pain clinics are a wealth of knowledge for just about anything. I am hoping they will have sleeplessness clinics. Coping strategies to make it through the day. I am coping for now but soon the long acting pain meds will have to be weaned down.
I never tell anyone that I am terrified of the pain coming back. I remember those days in hospital where something was on fire and I was too immobilized to do anything except cry and press the call button for the nurse. One night when the pain in my foot was tag teaming with my general discomfort and back pain, I rang for the nurse and an ally appeared. An agency nurse, picking up a shift that night. She came in, all in white, middle aged.
"What do you need, honey?" she said tiredly.
"for my pain to stop," I warbled, tears streaming down my cheeks.
The nurse rounded the bed, her eyes sweeping my small broken form. She helped me reposition, Helped me roll from side to side, tuck a pillow under my aching side.
"I remember where you are," she said. She told me that 20+ years prior she had been in a bad car accident, had been t-boned at an intersection by a impatient driver who had sped through and not seen her till to late. Her back was a mess, multiple fracture down one side. She said it took a few months in hospital, even double in rehab before she felt like herself again. She couldn't sit for long periods of time and felt numb down the left side of her body. She felt the financial disparity of her situation and went back to work too early.
"I see you lying here and you remind me so much of myself back then." She was leaning against the bed, rubbing my foot. "I know how frightened you are. "It's almost worse to be a health care professional and a patient because you are privy to the inside scoop of what's really going on."
I could feel my eyes filling up again as I listened to her tell her story. More than anything, her story was filing me with hope that I do would recover and nurse again. I was really missing it during those first few days on the Trauma unit. Add to that the enormous amount of stress this situation was causing in every aspect of my life, well, it's no wonder I was crying about foot pain. I could have cried 1000 oceans of tears and may not even touch the surface off all that was troubling me. Grief is like a layer cake, the superficial aspects don't take long to show themselves but as the trajectory of accident moves along, the deeper issues begin to show themselves. I am now just starting to understand what the actual impact of this accident has had on my life, with more to follow I'm sure. The legal end, for starters. Whoa.
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