Learning About Me

Every day has become a journey, a space in time where I am becoming and learing about becoming. I am creating a life wherein I am in love and joy and peace. I am embracing and receiving and stretching and growing. I am creating. I am healing. I am living.

Just a little over a year ago, I faced the choice of whether I wanted to live or die. For two days, I sat in that space and wondered... do I REALLY want to be here?

I chose in to my life. I chose in to being alive. And oh! What a difference that has made!

One Would Think

Yes, indeed! One would think that given all my positive mental attitude stuff I've got goin' for me and the fact that I am flying free that I would be all healthy and happy. Yes, well. One wouldn't want things to be too good now, would one?

Happy? Yes.

Healthy? Not so much.

My daughter brought home from her father's house a nice "change of season" illness. I, apparently, still have a weakened immune system from my walk through the Nile last year so I take on anything that breezes by me. Thus, I now am enjoying a thoroughly congested system and coughing, once again and delightfully so, so hard that I am wetting myself. Damn. I feel old.

This upcoming bit may be TMI (too much information for those who are deficient in textese) on the personal front... but... I think I passed some tapeworms yesterday!!!! OH! MY! GOD! Talk about gross and feeling all third-world-ish. Yeah. That's me. I have no idea how I got them and I am calling them tapeworms because they looked like slender fettucini noodles (Ye-eah... I am NEVER gonna eat fettucini again!) and according to the image search I did (which, in and of itself, was enough to make me never eat ANYTHING again) regarding intestinal worms, "tapeworms" most closely matched what was expelled from my body. And did I say it already? OH! MY! GOD!!!!!

Okay... more possible TMI... it is quite startling to stand up, turn around to flush the toilet after doing my "business" and see white noodle-like substances floating in the excrement!!! I about passed out. What the...???!???! I am an American, for godssake! This sort of stuff only happens in third world countries.

Sooooo... I stood there... now what do I do???! I stared at the toilet feeling all dirty and ashamed - for some reason. I was curious about that shame/guilt part. Still don't understand that feeling. I felt like I wanted to hide away. That, somehow, I was no longer good enough for the human race in general, let alone America. Somehow these parasites had made me less of a person.

I had been feeling sick, though, for several days so I rationalized that, perhaps it was undigested food. Granted, I had never seen undigested food that looked like that but I was willing, at that point, to belief anything my feverish mind would concoct. Forgive me for telling you this, but I decided to fish out the offensive material with a fork (which I threw away, afterwards) to see, up close and personal, what the hell it was. As far as I could tell from standing up and staring in, it looked like there were clusters of noodles - two distinct clusters. Up close, it was not noodles. I have no idea if it was one worm that had broken up on discharge, or if it was a bunch of little worms. Either way... I am completely grossed out!!! (And I imagine you are, as well.)

However, it gets better (or worse, depending on your state of mind at this point)! One of the sites I perused regarding intestinal worms stated that some worms can be transmitted via mosquitos. Good God! Could it be that last year while I traversed the Nile there were worm eggs also incubating in me?!?! If only I could find that damn mosquito. I would toss him in acid and watch him squirm!

Soooooo... all night I dreamt of insect infestations - oh surprise! My body felt like I had vermin crawling all over it just under the skin. I dreamt my body was being taken over by ugliness. Ugh... I am tired today. And, surprisingly, I feel angry too. I wasn't expecting that one.

All I am hoping is that the worms I did release were the entire cult. It is time for a candida cleanse, for sure. I heard they thrive in yeast. Ugh...

ps... I was gonna post a lovely picture of a tapeworm for you to look at. However, I just could not do it. If you really want to see lots of yummy stuff about human intestinal worms, CLICK HERE and enjoy. Not!

Grrrrrrrrr!

I feel angry.

For a long time, I chose to not advertise my business and opted for the "word of mouth" way of life. It worked for some time, until I got lost in the Nile. When I came to, after that lovely adventure, I discovered I had no clients and, thus, no "word of mouth" to rely on. I made a split-second decision one day while at one my favorite conscious-thinking bookstores and placed several of my business cards on the community cork-board.

Within 24 hours, I received a call. I was elated! Until I realized that the doh-head who was calling me was "not really in need of sessions" because he had "done it all and was good" and he was "only calling because he was curious" about what I did.

The second call came just moments ago from some woman named Leona with an accent so thick and guttural that I had difficulty understanding a word she said. She was calling, "to be up front and honest, I am not interested in healing sessions," but rather because she wanted to sell me something! WTF?!!

Awareness...

I am aware that, as of late, my posts have been all "love and light." I'm not usually this sappy or continually peppy. In general, I am a happy person, yet I am still prone to having long lengths of time where I am intensely angry and hateful. Life just seems to be going good right now and when it comes time to write, I feel excited to say, "I FEEL GOOD!"

I have spent years trying to find my Happy Place. There were so many times I wondered if I could go on and if it was even worth trying. For a long time, if you had asked me if I wanted to live, I would have answered, "Yes. I want to live because I have a beautiful daughter. I want to see her grow up into a beautiful woman." For a long, long time my daughter was my only reason for living.

Then, I had a Life or Death choice eight months ago when I walked through the Nile. When I was faced with that choice, I realized that I truly did want to live. I chose in that moment to take another breath, to choose to be here, to stay here for myself and no one else. That choice, I believe, has made all the difference in my life.

So, I will revel in this beautiful life I am creating and I will share with you the joy and love I feel. If it gets dull, all this loving, I am okay if you move on. I imagine there will be down times and times when I am seething again. However, right now, it is not one of those times and I am going to cherish that fact.

Knowing Myself

The red SUV sped almost past me on the right side of the freeway in rush hour traffic. Then, almost as abruptly, slammed on their brakes and slowed considerably so that their vehicle stayed parallel to me. The driver grinned at me and the passenger leaned way forward to peer around her and grin at me, as well. Then they sped on and pulled in front of me. It was then that I understood their bizarre behavior.

See, last October, after I had made my six-week-long trek through the Nile, I came out on the other side feeling very disoriented and disillusioned and several other "dis"s. For all of my life, I have not been one of those people who chose to adorn their car with bumper stickers or window decals. Ever. It just wasn't something I was into. That is, until last October.

I was wandering aimlessly in my car one fine autumn day last October with my Auntie, Mother and Daughter. It was a gorgeous day and I made a split second decision to veer to the right and parallel park in front of a store called SpellBound that I have been eyeing, but have not found (made) the time to stop in. It seemed that that day was better than any and without causing much whiplash devastation to my passengers, I stopped.

We walked in and I found myself in one of those places that feels like my home away from home - the air laced with the smell of nag champa and various other incents. The lights bouncing off the crystals and gems. The luxurious appearance of shimmering-velvet capes and swords and wands. It was like walking into a magical haven. I love finding places like this and I can generally wile away many hours in these places.

"Oh look!" Mom said, calling me over to the rotating rack. "I dare you to get these!"

(editorial sidenote: keep in mind that, just four days prior to this moment, I had moved into my highly-religious father's domain.)

I glanced at the two bumper stickers she held in her hand. I read them both, laughed right out loud, promptly grabbed them out of her hand, took them to the counter and purchased them. I never once thought, "I don't like bumper stickers."

It seemed that, after my personality-altering bout with the Nile, purchasing those bumper stickers was the only thing that felt normal to me. Placing them on my bumper was the only thing, in six weeks, that had made sense to me. The messages on them were the only thing I could relate to, that felt right.

And that red SUV that was playing looksie with me on the freeway the other day? This was on her bumper:

I laughed all the way to work. I forgot that I had publicly outed myself, which is something I have the opportunity to remember frequently with random encounters on the road such as this. She was just another of my kind trying to say hello. Such a small world.

(ps... Juls... I can hear you "tsk tsk"ing from here. LOL I know that you loathe these bumper stickers. *sigh*)

TT - The Fiery Place

(excerpt taken from my Meditation of the week post entitled Autumnal Gratitudes.)


Living With West Nile

I was "unofficially" diagnosed with West Nile by two separate doctors. To be officially diagnosed would have cost me thousands of dollars - without insurance - in specialized testing. Due to the onset of my symptoms in relation to when I had been in the mountains, the duration of my symptoms, the pattern of the symptoms and the fact that no one around me became sick, my personal physician stated he was 99.9% certain that we were dealing with that virus. However, because we did not have the testing to back his diagnosis, he approached my treatment from every angle. Being a naturopath, he diagnosed a series of intense homeopathy to support my immune system, which was doing its utmost best to keep me alive. It worked and I am alive today.

I experienced West Nile as a very debilitating disease. For me, it started with the muscles of my neck and shoulders being completely immobile. For two days it was as though I had an anvil placed on my shoulders and attached to the back of my skull. It was all I could do to hold up my head. Driving was excruciating as I could not look from side to side and most of my upper body was clenched in a death grip, as well.

When the rigidity passed, I had no strength in any of my muscles. I was weak and unable to do even the most basic of tasks. Dressing myself was an exertion. Taking a shower caused me to need to nap for an hour. Walking down a flight of twelve stairs left me winded and exhausted. Going up those same stairs required I take a break halfway through to catch my breath and regain my strength.

The low-grade fever began on the third night. Interestingly enough, it disappeared during the day and would only show up as I began to ready myself for bed. The heightened body temperature made for uncomfortable, sleepless nights. By the fifth day, the fever began to invade my body during the day and was settling in for an average of 101.9 and peaking to 104.3, at times. For 24 days, I lived with this fever. I felt parched and sunken. My eyes burned and felt as though they were bugging out of my head.

The fever-induced nightmares with images that scalded my brain. Some nights I struggled in and out of the depths with demons chasing me, opening my eyes in the dawn to find I felt worse than when I had laid down the night before. One night I dreamt I was drowning in a hot pool and awoke to find myself still in the water. Startled to find that the dream was reality and that I was, in fact, in a lake, I shot up in my bed. My bed, my pajamas, my body and my hair was completely drenched to the point that it was dripping from me and pooling in uncomfortable places. That night, my fever was at 104.3 and I was sweating away my precious life fluids.

On the seventh day the rash appeared in annoying, itchy patches all over my body and mostly on my scalp. My entire head felt as though it had been dipped in sap and fire ants. Everywhere the little bumps appeared, I would have an irrational need to scratch. There would be a slight burning sensation as a small hint that a patch was going to pop up in one area or another and then, the screaming irritation would assail my senses and I would spy the telltale perfectly-round and slightly raised bumps.

The most disconcerting and debilitating aspect of this illness was the apathy that accosted me, in combination with the zapping of my energy. There were days when I wallowed in the mire of indifference and wished for Death - who, in the beginning, always lurked outside my door - to take me. When the battle began in my body, I had only ten minutes of energy in my reserve and then I would crash into bed for four or five hours to be assaulted by feverish images of horror. My eyes burned with fever. My eyesight wavered noticeably in the heat and, sometimes disappeared all together; therefore I could not read or watch television. My attention span was all of about 30 seconds so I was good for nothing that required concentration. I existed on water and chicken broth for about four weeks and have yet to regain my appetite.

After being sick for so long, I feel out of touch and as though this writing is stretching me. Interestingly enough, I am a changed person after my extended sabbatical. I feel new and strange in my body and in the circles in which I used to travel. It is not as though I have been reborn but, instead, have been born for the first time. I am a new person.

Now my energy reserve is up to about ten hours a day, for which I am grateful. I have become really clear on my boundaries through this process. I definitely know who I am, what is okay for me and what is not. More importantly, I am able to clearly express my limitations and hold strong to what is good for me. If I am pushed in a direction that is not good for me, I know immediately and I retaliate. This is all new for me. In the past, I did not know myself nor did I know my boundaries and if, by some chance, I realized that something was "wrong" I definitely could not voice it. I have also discovered that if I push past the point where my body says, "I'm done," then I become toxic. My body will reek of toxins and lethargy begins to pull me into an abyss.

This illness has blessed me. I have had six weeks of exaggerated aloneness and isolation to reflect on myself and my relationships. It has purified me and has brought clarity that I am willing to bet would have come no other way. Through the process of healing, my personality has been altered and my character defined. My eyes have opened to truths I could have seen no other way and I have come to realize that there are just some things - and people - that are no longer worthy of the time and energy I once devoted.

They say that when one faces death, it changes the life they live. Yes, it does. And I am grateful.

Imagery

On December 13th, I attended a product launch of one of my friends and mentors, Megan Sillito, wherein she gave a mini Genius Workshop. I love Megan. She has a way of presenting what she says in such an inviting and welcoming way. If you ever get a chance to attend one of her workshops or classes or to read her books, I highly recommend it.

In this workshop, I sat wide-eyed and ready to be fed, just as a baby bird awaits her mother. I have sat at the feet of this Teacher/Genius for over five years now and, yet, it is still always new. I find new insights for myself. I hear new things. I am awakened, yet again, to new and wonderous ways of thinking. I begin to actually live!

This night was no different. Although, it felt different. I felt different. Due to my journey through the Nile and the recurring illnesses resulting thereof, I have been away from my friends, my community, my "learning places" for almost four months now. To sit there, amongst them again and listen to Megan speak was manna for my whole being and I felt myself coming back to life.

She guided us on an imagry experience through the next twenty years of our lives. I am all about guided imagry sessions. I believe it is one of the coolest, funnest and eye-opening (even though your eyes are closed - LOL - I am talking about your real eyes, silly) experential way of learning. Because it is imaginary, it is limitless. I like that idea.

She had us go to a stairway. Mine was a beautiful, winding stairway with stunning ornamental design. My stairway, as I traversed it downward upon her instruction, evolved with the journey. Steps appeared just as I needed them and instead of walking down, the steps came to me and lowered me down. No effort. At the eventual bottom of my staircase, the space opened into a massive cavern adorned with vibrant, glowing crystals and gems. There was a pool of shallow water which had gathered upon the floor and reflected the light all around. To the left was an archway which I exited through to find myself in the woods.

It was quiet there, cool and serene. The only sounds were of my footsteps and an occasional flutter of the aspen leaves high above me. I smelled the earth, damp and fresh. I smelled decomposing leaves and pine sap. I smelled the dew which sparkled in the dappled sunlight. Soon, I spied a small fawn stepping delicately through the undergrowth. It stopped in the pathway and looked at me. No fear, just stillness. It continued on its way and was soon followed by a majestic deer, which bounded through the forest without heeding my presence. His assurety was evident. He was King of the Forest, his impressive rack of pointed antlers held proudly aloft. He was the largest of his species I had ever scene. I thought for a moment, due to his size, that he was a bull elk. I have experienced those up close (read more here) and know them to be sizeable animals. I asked him what he was and he told me he was a deer, 'the biggest deer you've ever seen.' I smiled, grateful that my animal guide had a sense of humor.

He allowed me to approach him, the situation void of wariness or fear on either being's part. I put my arms around his chest, my fingers not being able to touch on the other side, and I buried my face against his neck. Warm. Alive. Knowing. He allowed me to ride his back for the next part of my journey, which took us out into an open meadow. The sunlight on my face warmed my skin. The slight breeze then cooled it, lifting my hair lightly and causing the grasses to sway gently.

In front of me, as Megan suggested, my Self, one year from now, appeared. I was happy to see she was smiling. She shimmered mysteriously and I watched as she gracefully danced nearer to where I stood. She moved with ease and a sinuous elegance. I was surprised to see her apparent litheness, although she was not a small-bodied woman. Her smile radiated and filled the space. She had a message for me: You are on the path now. You have all you need within you. Your key is Gratitude.

We embraced as I thanked her and I felt her solid strength. I felt such gratitude.

She left me and another woman joined me. She was the Me of Five Years Hence. I audibly gasped out, then covered my mouth when I remembered there were others near me. I was caught off guard to see her holding an infant with such ownership. I felt confused. How could I possibly be holding a baby? I lost myself for a moment trying to figure out the why of the image and whose baby it was. Then I came back and focused on her. She was so peaceful. She held that baby, looking down into its face with such love. She smiled at me and delivered her message: You ARE joy. You travel forward, going step by step, in the direction you are guided. Allow your Soul to lead you. Allow the Universe to guide you. Your key is Joy.

When I embraced her in gratitude, I felt the Joy of which she spoke. The baby was warm between us and I was enveloped in a Love so intense, I could feel the physical presence of it.

She sauntered away and I was joined by the Me of Twenty Years Hence. She was tall. Very, very tall and I laughed silently at that since I am so not tall. Her smile was permanent and she moved with the wisdom and assurances of a life well-lived. She held out her hand to me and took it in mine. I could feel the ages reverberate through us and my own hands, there in the physical space where I was in the Now, began to sparkle and vibrate in that way that is so familiar to me now. Her message: You are complete right here, right now. You live as you are meant to live. You do what you are meant to do. You BE who you are meant to be. They are waiting for you. Your key is Completion.

She stepped back from me and I felt shaken with knowledge. She smiled at me and caressed my hair then tilted my chin back so that I could look into her eyes. I felt her touch the Me that I am now and, as I thought thankfulness into her, she merged with me and I was complete.

I found myself holding onto the neck of my Deer. He looked at me and I asked if he had anything to share with me. His message: I am Deer. I am King of This Forest. None rival me in size, in presence, nor in rack. Focus on my antlers.

I thanked him for his presence and made my way to the stairway. I stepped on the first step and it quickly unwound itself to the top. Slowly I came into the physical space and opened my eyes, feeling the generations of Me around and within me, feeling grateful, full of joy and so very complete....

Later that night, I got out one of my favorite book, Animal Speak, to look up "antlers." This is what I discovered:

...antlers are solid bone, and they are shed every year. Antlers grow behind the eyes and are very protective. Each year until the age of five, the antlers grow bigger and with more points... Antlers are symbols of antennae, connections to higher forms of attunement. Deer with antlers thus can be a signal to pay attention to your inner thoughts and perceptions, as they are probably more accurate than you think.

The antlers are shed every year, and each year they grow back larger and with more points, for five years. If a deer has entered your life, look for new perceptions and degrees of perceptions to grow and expand for as much as the next five years. It can indicate that there will be opportunities to stimulate gentle new growth increasingly over the next few years.

The antlers grow behind the eyes, again hinting at the symbolism of heightened perception. When the antlers are shed, they are eaten by dear and rodents who gnaw on them to assimilate the calcium...

To sleep...

I have never been one to whom sleep came as a rare commodity. I have been able to lay down my head, fall asleep relatively fast and sleep soundly. These days, I am surprised by the difficulty of doing such. Since I traveled through the Nile, my sleep patterns have been interrupted, or more accurately, completely shattered. And what sleep I get is interrupted by dreams of struggle. I was getting almost normal toward the end of September, right before I moved into my father's guest bedroom. Now, it is a seemingly impossible task.

Last night, or rather, early this morning, I did not doze off until almost 3:00. I was wound up from the festivities and then my writing, which caused my brain to ramble on and on and on. Then at 8:23, my father bounded out of his room and shouted jovially at his wife, "Wow! It smells good! Whatcha making?"

Good morning!

He's right. It does smell good. My mouth is watering and my stomach is growling. Banana bread... it's such a homey smell.

And now I am sitting here, a tad kerfuffled and feeling tired but knowing I cannot sleep, and I am staring at this framed portrait that is staring directly back at me. It is the Christ in traditional Mormon regalia - white tunic and red robe (I cannot remember why his robe is red! Why is his robe red???!) The picture of this surprisingly Caucasian Jewish man from Nazareth has a quote which states: I never said it would be easy. I only said it would be worth it.

This is a oft-used declaration used in the LDS church (and perhaps others, as well, although I cannot quote from personal experience) to boost the spirits of the Fold. It reminds them that they chose to come here because it would be worth it, not because it would be easy.

I feel angry about that.

All my life, I have been taught that life is hard and ya gotta work hard, but have nothing to show for it. It is a wicked paradigm, this life is hard way of thinking. It robs men of their joy. Life is spent struggling to make ends meet, struggling to become perfect, struggling to save, struggling to get ahead, struggling, struggling, struggling. And, within the Church, there is an even more insidiously destructive way of thinking: life will be better in the hereafter. Therefore, people spend their entire life in limbo, thinking that this life is meant for struggle because the hereafter is going to be so much easier.

I have come to believe that the hereafter is just that - here after. I take me with me and it will be what I create of it, just like in this life.

*sigh*

It will be what I create of it, just like in this life?

Yes, yes, I know. Angie, listen to your own preaching... my life is as I create it. And all the New Age colloquialisms come rushing at me: what you resist persists; what you think about, you bring about; it is as it is and as it is, it is.

Yeah yeah yeah... I hear ya. I hear it, but have yet to assimilate it, apparently.

Now I am going to go eat some banana bread for breakfast and take a nap in a bit because dad and his wife will be at church and the house will be quiet. Perhaps I will be able to assimilate after a satifying, dream-less nap.

Tremors

One of the effects I experienced with West Nile is that I totally lost my cool when it came to driving in inclement weather. As I live in Utah, where the weather changes on a dime, being unnerved by Mother Nature's tempestuous displays of power is debilitating.

I first made this discovery back in October, while I was still in the attractive throes of the illness. Going stir-crazy from being in the house too long, I had decided to invite my mother for a ride up the mountains. The drive up was relaxing and rejuvenating. I almost felt like a human being again.

The ride down, however, was an altogether different scene entirely. The weather changed while we were driving around the upper-class neighborhood of Promontory Point, jaws agape and gasping in wonder at the multi-million dollar mansions owned by celebrities such as Sylvester Stallone and the Hiltons. Everything was super until I hit the freeway to head out of Parley's Canyon. This canyon, even in good weather, is a tad terrifying and requires the utmost concentration as vehicles racing above the set speed limit of 65mph weave in and out of the lanes.

This day it was raining. I had no idea that I was going to freak out. Why would I? I had driven this road more times than I can remember and had never freaked out, even in the worst conditions. However, as soon as I got up to the required speed limit and then the clouds opened and the downpour began, I knew I was done for.

I started breathing shallowly, unable to get my lungs full as the panic set in. My hands clutched the steering wheel in a death grip, as if grasping it tightly was going to keep us on the road. I began to sweat from every pore. My heart was racing. My eyes bugged out of my head. Although I have never had one, I was able to recognize that I was in the middle of a full-on panic attack.

"Ummmm..." I said breathily, aware that my mother had been staring at me the whole time, watching my meltdown. "Ummmmmm.... yeah...... I am completely freaked out!"

I am happy to report that we made it down the mountain in one piece, although it was the longest drive of my life.

Now, it's winter here. It is snowing. There is about nine inches of snow outside right now and I have to drive across town to a family Christmas party. There have been a couple other snow storms this season, but I have been blessed to only be out in the beginning of the flurries. Today I will be in the thick of it.

I can already feel the tremors beginning...

Smeller

I am grateful to say that my smeller is back online. It seems like forever since I was able to take a huge inhalation through my nose and actually catch any scents. I am happy to report that a man walked passed me at lunch today looking all crisp and clean, as though he had just left his shower, and smelling of high-end cologne. I love the smell of man. And... yay! I can actually smell it!!!

Fear and Loathing in SLC

I have a fear...

Yes. Only one fear.

Riiiiiiight.

If life were only that simple. It's not. But this one fear is really eating at me. And I know that fearing/worrying is planning so I am sitting here recognizing this fear in hopes that the recognition is going to kick this fear's ass out the door...

My fear? I may never be healthy again. And I loathe that thought.

Since my seven-week journey through the West Nile, I have not yet got to be my own, whole self. I have not felt the pep that I had on September 3, 2007, the day before I began the trek into the Nile. And, while I struggled and lumbered through the mire of that illness, I continually sought refuge through remembering how I once was. And the thought of perhaps I will never be that person again plagued me every step of the way.

Turns out, I am not that person anymore. That Angie died in the feverish depths of the Nile. The me that I once was is now gone. And it has been like mourning the death of a loved one. At times, I have felt as though I am a stranger in my own body. I look at myself in the mirror and do not recognize the features. And, apparently, the change is obvious to those around me. Many people who know me actually stare at me for some time before saying, "Something's different about you."

Yes. I know it is. And I am scared about that. At 39 years old, I am brand new. How do I do this?

My immune system is fragile and weak from traveling through the Nile. Thus, I catch every damn illness that skips past me. Today, I am experiencing a sinus infection that has my head feeling like it is stuck in a vice grip and stuffed with saturated, bloated sponges.

I feel angry that I am experiencing sickness. I feel angry that my life mantra seems to be "Ick. I am feeling icky right now." I feel angry that, just as I started to have a glimpse of a full life, I am knocked flat on my ass again. I feel angry that I am writing, yet again, about being sick because sickness is what is in my life at this moment. I am angry that I am starting to sound like my progenitors who diagnose themselves with every popular illness one could catch. I am angry that I am sick.

I want to be well. I want to be strong. I want to accomplish all that I am meant to accomplish.

No amount of positive mental attitude-ing this or holding space for health or playing with this or loving myself for creating it... none of that New Age bullshit is helping me. No amount of knowing that I am whole and well and perfect in this moment is helping me. No amount of rest and natural remedies are helping me. No amount of medicine is turning me back to life.

I fear this is what I have in store for the rest of my life. And I loathe that thought...

4:00 am

My daughter and I have moved into my father's house, or rather, the very petite guest room of my father's house. Four months prior to the move, I had made the firm decision that I would not be signing another lease with my apartment complex. I had decided I was going to downsize to pay off bills, clear up my credit and qualify for a house. I planned on six months until I was in my own place. As September neared, and the impending move loomed near without having anywhere to go, my anxiety level rose exponentially. Then I got sick.

My illness made it impossible to look for a new residence. Eventually, as I succumbed to the Nile, I realized that I had to resort to my last resort, plan X, or we were going to end up on the streets. That was when I called my father and his wife. It was a move of desperation while I wallowed through West Nile.

I am grateful they had space and were willing to take us in. Having been married for almost eighteen years without any kids from that marriage, they have spent the bulk of their marriage together alone. When we lived with them in Idaho Falls for a couple years, after I went into hiding from my former husband, we were all so much younger and they lived in a place with three separate floors so we were able to find space alone. Here, in their much smaller, one-floor house - which is more practical for them as they age - we are walking on top of one another. I imagine it is a huge stretch for them.

I know it is for me.

It wasn't until this morning at 4:00 am - normal waking time around here, God knows why - as I lay in this bed listening to them bumble around their room and my father's deep voice resonating with muffled, insensible timbre, that I realized how big of a stretch it is for me. I had no idea how much of a homebody I had become and how much I cherish my alone time, my quiet time, my space, until I moved here. There is nowhere for me to go here for peace. In a two bedroom house where the television blasts at 800,000 decibels for most of the evening, there is no respite.

I am spending a lot of time holed away here in the guest room - in the mornings with my head buried under a pile of pillows praying for silence and stillness. I feel like a hermit. I am imagining that my father and his wife wonder if I don't like them. And, bless their hearts, they are doing everything in their power to make it comfortable here for us and to accomodate us. I just had no idea what moving here would mean for me.

Nor did I know what 4:00 in the morning looks like. I have never been a morning person and I am really not a morning person when I don't get a good, healthy chunk of uninterrupted, deep sleep. One of the lingering effects of West Nile is that I am still not sleeping as soundly as I did prior to getting sick. So I awake - at 4:00 am every single damn morning - feeling grumpy and tight and pissy because I am awake two hours prior to when I need to be.

It's not that they wake me up purposely. They are just doing their thing, their little routine that they have worked themselves into after eighteen years. Thing is, their little routine happens on just the other side of that four inch, poorly-insulated wall. I can hear it if one of them sighs. God help me if they find their libidos!

One good thing, though, about this ungodly waking hour... I never miss a sunrise now.

Alive!

Oh my God!

I
AM
ALIVE!

And I am so grateful for that... for awhile, I did not think that would be the case. You can read all about it by following the link below.

God! It's sooooooo good to be alive...

Blessed be!

Click here for this week's meditation

Be well, my Friend!

Visiting the Neighborhood

Clang-Clang-Clang!

It was the Trolley, announcing it’s arrival and impending departure for the Neighborhood of Make Believe. Remnants of the theme song floated on the air…

Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Won't you please,
Won't you please?
Please won't you be my neighbor?

Momentarily, I pause. What the hell? Why am I in Mr. Roger’s house???

It’s only a breath I take before, suddenly, being there seemed quite normal. Trolley scooted forward and back on the track, clanging with each sudden lurch. I rushed to slip on my canvas shoes and glanced down at my feet. They looked like Cardinals staring up at me. I slid my arms into the crimson cardigan, buttoning it haphazardly and without care that it was lopsided.

I approached Trolley and reach out my hand to it. Somehow I shrink to fit inside, or Trolley grows exponentially to allow me to board because I find myself sitting comfortably upon her stiff chairs, the only passenger aboard Trolley. The only person, actually. There was no engineer but that was less troublesome than the tunnel looming ahead.

As a child, that tunnel had held curiosities for me. Why don’t they let us go with them through the tunnel? What is in there? What does it look like?

I was now about to find out and I was none too pleased. With a Clang-Clang and a lurch, we were off with the happy tinkling sounds of Trolley’s music following along behind us. The tunnel was so dark I could not breathe and in a blink, I was spit out into the Neighborhood of Make Believe in a light so brilliant, I could not see.

Brushing myself off and attempting to right my crooked, crimson cardigan, I stood up and gazed about me. I was at the castle of King Friday and Queen Sara. With trumpets blaring, King Friday approached me and bleated something inconsequential and completely false. Rather than pointing out the obvious error and feeling fear of retribution, I lowered my eyes and followed protocol.

“Correct as usual, King Friday,” I muttered with as much regal decorum as I could muster.

I wanted to kick myself for having lied to myself and the world and for allowing his false prophesies to continue. Ashamed, I stared down at my cardinal canvas Keds and shuffled from foot to foot, as I tugged at my crooked crimson cardigan. I wanted to be gone, my shame was so intense.

As King Friday blathered on and on I sidled away from there, hoping with all my heart to avoid Lady Elaine Fairchilde because I was still horrified by her, a lingering childhood terror. I came to the Tree and, although I could not remember who dwelled there, I knew it was not Lady Elaine and I would be fairly safe. I lay down upon the prickly plastic grass and wrapped myself around the base of the tree, hoping for protection and wondering why my crooked crimson cardigan was suddenly sopping wet.

I opened my eyes, the mists fading away, to find myself protectively fetal, curled around myself and swimming in a pool of sweat. I sat up, dripping and disoriented, the words, “Correct as usual, King Friday,” ringing through my ears.

I wondered in my haze, how many times I had lowered my eyes to hide what I know to be true from those who speak falsely.

Thus are the ramblings of a feverish mind... hour upon hour upon hour... without relief... seemingly without end.

Longing

I long to feel good

I long to feel neither shivery nor boiling hot

I long to be able to breathe deep in confidence

that my lungs will fill with oxygen

I long to have this weight lifted from within me

I long to have someone hold me

I long

I long

I long

And I sigh

Writhing

I am writhing
And burning up
Internal temperature escalating
Skin crawling with a million red-hot ants
Scorching welts and hives rise and fall on my fair skin
Turning me into the surface of Mars
Searing
Dry
Seemingly uninhabitable
For which, I suppose, I should be grateful
But, I'm not
Because something is alive in me
Although the All-Knowing-They
Know Not
Not even one whit
Not even an inkling
What it could possibly be
A virus perhaps, They say
Just wait it out, They say
Just live with it, They say
Fuck
Is this what I have succumbed to?
Just live with it?!
What have I unleashed?
What am I choosing to resist?
What rage am I hiding from?
Yeah, fuck that
As one of my instructors once said
Sometimes a fever is just a fever
And it's time to stop analyzing it
So... yeah... maybe it is just a fever
And maybe that extremely remote chance
Of it being West Nile
Is only that, an extremely remote chance
Nothing to worry about
And maybe just because They
Could not narrow it down to what it is
But, instead, narrowed it down
To what it is not,
Maybe I should be grateful for that
And maybe, just maybe
The tides are going to change soon for me
'Cause God and all His angels know
I am tired of being Mars
I am tired of being in bed
I am tired of being weak
I am tired of processing
I am tired of anger
I am tired
Enough already