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Write Carol....just write.
I've had a bad headache now for two days. Nausea is a by-product. Yesterday my entire effin' face hurt along with my teeth.
My teeth. Probably the most expensive portion of my body. Hmmmm, nah. Now it is my titanium hip. But who the hell knows? I've (we've) spent so much money on my health. At least it has paid off. What would I have done had we not had the funds? I guess I would have died.
I recall when Dottie asked me once regarding my health, "What are your options?" I answered, "Believe or die." That must have been in 1994.
I recently perused some journal notes from '94. I quit journaling in '83, picked up my pen for a few months again in '94, ceased again, and then the ink spilled over in '98. It's been spilling over ever since. It was '98 that began so many life-changing occurrences. I say that, but there was a build up to that point in October, 1998.
October. October. October.
In my personal recovery work this past year or so, I told my counselor that I didn't consider myself as having survived trauma. I mean, everyone has their bumps, their valleys, their hills. Trauma. Trauma. Trauma. It's all on a continuum, like the other comparisons in life. It's not good to compare traumas. Yet, it is good to keep life's challenges in perspective. It seems that can only be done by comparisons.
I had denied my feelings for so long. It may not seem so, but I had. I buried so much effing pain, endeavoring to be strong, etc.
I remember times I'd sit in my home in Hickory, in that rocking chair in the den. The den where I had contimplated suicide more than once. I remember such deep, deep pain and grief. I'd be doubled over, wanting something to take it all away. I wailed more than once, "I feel like someone has died!" But no one had, at least on the physical level.
October. October. October.
This past year I listed traumas, or so-called traumas. I only got as far as 18 years old. I found myself denying that what happened in my life was traumatic. Hell, other folks have it much worse; I haven't lived through combat and war. My stomach turns.
October. October. October.
I recall one year when Way leadership told me that the reason I have trouble in October is because that is the Way's anniversary month, and the adversary stirred things up then. The person who told me that has a doctorate in psychology. That was a lot of help to me, great unsolicited advice. Ha!
Often times through the 80's and 90's, I'd have severe health trouble before big Ministry functions. The answer was always that the adversary was trying to keep me from the Word. I would always fight and most always get to the function. One time I rode lying down in the van from North Carolina to Ohio to some Advanced Class Special or something. I'd been told I had a herniated disc before I left for the trip. At the ACS, I went to see a believer chiropractor that told me I didn't have a herniated disc. It was a mess. I'm glad my neighbor had loaned me a walker.
One time, I think it was 1993, when I went to the Rock of Ages I was having asthma badly. I had rented a pop-up; me and my kids and another mom with her kids. We were put way out yonder in that field next to the Auditorium. I couldn't handle all the pollens of the tall grass. At 2 AM I walked what seemed forever, as I wheezed, to the ROA camping headquarters tent. Someone I knew was working...Judy and Bud. I asked if there was a spot we could have our camper moved to, that I was having a lot of health trouble down in the field. Judy responded, "You should contact and talk with you Twig leader." I said, "I am the Twig leader," and started crying. I felt so much shame for my lack of believing. I should have requested, prior to the ROA, a special spot on grounds for my pop up. But I was trying to believe God. I had brought my meds and nebulizer and stuff. But my lung had started hurting, the spot that would flare up where I'd had pneumonia a few times. And I was starting to have back pains, one of my warning signs that I need to do something before I'd end up at an Emergency Room. Hospital emergency rooms were a regular occurrence for me through the 80s and 90s. There were 3 ambulance trips; those were always fun.
Judy was compassionate and understanding. The next morning Bud came down and moved the pop up on grounds. He was very kind and helpful. I was so very thankful and appreciative. I didn't have to walk so far to activities that way. And being out of all that grass helped.
I don't know why I'm writing all this out. Sometimes I feel so very dirty; it's not fun. I don't like it. Well then, just stop. Ha!
Sometimes I'm embarrassed at my immature decisions through the years. So much was based on what I thought was truth. I still get confused. Sometimes I think too much.
Could I get a brain transplant?
I'll be glad when October passes...I think I will anyway.
I tell myself that it's o.k. to cry. This too will pass....and I breathe freely now. I have no back pain anymore; I have few pains. I may be the healthiest now, at 50 years old, than I've ever been. I do need to get back to my regular exercise; pre-hip and post-hip surgery waylaid me in that category. I've put on weight that I don't like.
Hey Carol...remember that mantra that JK gave you?
"God damn, am I good or what!"
That brings me a smile and a chuckle.
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