Words

A deadline is negative inspiration. Still, it's better than no inspiration at all.

~Rita Mae Brown
Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement.

~Alfred Adler

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Entries by Jen (666)

Sunday
Nov042007

Sunday Brevity

While getting my daily exercise this morning (going out to buy cigarettes, unfortunately) I decided that I wasn't going to talk about #3. Mostly cause there are just some thought processes and truths about ourselves that no one except ourselves need to know.

If I were to actually tell anyone then I think that all the progress I've made would feel like I did it so other people could lend their affirmation to my own.

It would make it less.... well, less.

In this case, my own affirmation and admiration is all I need.

All I've got then, this lovely afternoon is The Diary of a Psychotic Cat (excerpt below). Now, go away.

Despair! My She-Keeper has been gone for four days, having left only enough food for two (factoring in several obligatory between-meal binges to soothe the pain of our separation). Delirious with hunger, I cloud my mind with the anemic hallucinogens of a two-year-old catnip chew toy. I see a mirage of fat mice frolicking in the stale shallows of the Christmas tree water, swat weakly at their tails, and catch only pine needles and a single dead housefly in my trembling paw.

Is this the beginning of my final march toward death? What an ignoble end to such a glorious beast! Perhaps I should have been kinder to my She-Keeper. She did rescue me from that Texas death-house all those years ago, and in her own misguided way she tries to serve me well. Oh, to hear her sweet voice again, to curl up in the warm cushion of her lap, to gently bat her face at dawn until she rose to feed me – a ritual she anticipated with such eager pleasure! Have I seen her for the last time? I crawl under the kitchen table and curl around a five-pound sack of rice, but it makes a poor substitute.

Saturday
Nov032007

This is Where I Live (Part II)

Now, where was I?

Ahh. Number Two.

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about the patients at the hospital. My role in 'patient care'. There are three I spend more time thinking about than any others but I'm only going to tell you about one, because she illustrates the joy and tragedy of the two-edged sword best of all.

I've found that working in a hospital is only exactly what you let it be. Irritating. Inspiring. Heartbreaking. Affirming. A lot of the people I work with allow it only to be a job in the very basest sense of the word. Someplace they go to be angry at their lives, rude to the people around them, a place to complain about the small pains in their lives while ignoring the large pain all around them, spending more time stirring the pot than in any attempt at seeing the patients, - a job they could do in any sector. A job that I don't think they should be doing in a hospital. (but that is only one of my personal soapboxes that I won't be climbing up on today)

What I mean by 'seeing' the patients is hard to explain but it's not about just knowing their names - most of the time I can't remember a patient's name five seconds after seeing it - it's about, well, SEEING and letting that sight affect their day. And yours.

A few weeks ago we had a lady come through from the emergency room who had fallen down while she was out doing her Thursday figure skating.

Here's the inspiring part. Every Thursday she figure skates. Not just your run of the mill turn or two around the rink but figure skating.

What's so great and inspiring about that? She's 93.

Ninety-three. Think about that for a moment and let this amazing woman in. Let her make you vow to be like her when you're even half her age. Let her inspire you to greater things. Just think for a little bit about how you could make the choice to allow this woman to touch you.

Now, think about why she was in the emergency room. She broke her hip when she fell. She'll never figure skate again. Oh sure, they'll fix it but at that age? It'll never be strong enough for her to go back to her weekly spins.

If this weekly joy for her is the main joy in her life, the loss of it may very well kill her. Even if it doesn't she's probably lost the main thing that's kept her vibrant and young to this age.

So in a way, that single tumble is the beginning of the end of a life.

A life that 30 minutes before was amazing. A life that filled me with awe.

A life that turned around in a moment.

A double edged sword.

I'll never see that woman again but in a very real way, I've seen her. I'll never forget her and at some point in my life, remembering her may very well give me a reason to make a different decision. A decision that could keep me young and vibrant to a jolly old age.

The awe and the heartbreak of her have now become a piece of me and I am the better for it.

I doubt that most of my co-workers could say the same.

Friday
Nov022007

This is Where I Live (Part I)

However urgent a thing is, there comes a point where there are no more places to go. The urgency burns out, and you sit there like you have all the time in the world, while the world rages on around you.

While I have all the time in the world, I'm not spending a lot of time in self-reflection. Self-mutilation. Self-improvement. Self-pity. Self-castigation. Self-alienation. Self-betterment (unless you count Yoga Face which I came across in the library). Self-critique. etc. etc. ad infinitum.

There are three things, however, that I am spending time doing. Each of them has turned out to be a two edged sword.

One is just enjoying the small things. The day to day things that someone who stays at home actually has the time to do. However, as wonderful as it is to have the time to keep a spotless home - dust the books, cook meals, brush the cat - it is just as utterly frustrating to start doing the dishes every day, twice, and get down on my hands and knees to pick up yet more cat hair.

All the little things you never have the time to do are suddenly there staring you in the face. Reproachfully.

(I'm breaking this up. Mostly cause I have something else I have to do and I wouldn't want to make it most of the way through and miss my posting. Sorry! Numbers Two and Three on their way.)

Thursday
Nov012007

NaBloMoFoGlo... oh whatever.

You'd never know by the echoing emptiness in there that I spent most of September and October at home. That the migraines escalated to 6 days a week, every other week. That I made it to only 50% of my shifts.

In theory, I've had lots of time, TONS of time to come in here and blabber on.

You'd never know by the continuing dearth of words that for the last 10 days I've actually be completely off work. That the doctor pulled me once and for all.

So, oh my god, I've had days and days of uninterrupted time to come in here and whine, bemoan my fate, rail at the people who have spent the last 14 months deciding whether or not to PAY me and generally just make myself and everyone else totally miserable.

But, I'm not miserable. I used to worry about the things I cannot change. Now, I do what little I can do and move on. The world moves at it's own pace and there is not a blessed thing I can do about it.

My state of mind is good. I'm undiscouraged. I am, frankly, a little freaked out by my fortitude. I'm in possession of all my parts and a suprising amount of calm. I haven't sunk into an unwashed drunken state.

Sure, I have nightmares. I often wake up in a pool of my own cold sweat - so obviously a part of me IS all stressed out. I'm perfectly okay with it being a subconscious part.

I'm in a state of ...limbo..., making a pitiful amount of money on a medical claim but I get to do the things I love.

Walk every day. Hang out in the library. READ! Watch movies. Talk to the cats. Not worry about whether or not I'm going to make it to the next shift. READ! Not try and force myself to go to work to make just enough to get by on. Cook myself good meals. READ! On nice days I can garden. I set myself goals. I may actually sort through years of paper and filing.

One of the things I used to love to do was write.

Maybe, just maybe, being a part of this thing I have a hard time remembering how to spell will help me get back to that, as well.

How long have I been in this storm?

Thursday
Sep202007

Little Bored, Is All


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Thursday
Sep132007

I'm a What? I'm a Who?

This first thought has nothing to do with anything, really - today would have been my parents 49th Anniversary.

Weird. Trust me.

The quotes say it all for me right now. I have a (life) choice to make and for the last four weeks I've been utterly unable to make it. I'm stuck. I've got until the 24th and on that day, well, I go one way or another.

And I don't have the slighest clue how to get there by then.

Onwards - nipped from BW...

You scored as Existentialism, Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life.

“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.”

“It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.”

--Jean-Paul Sartre

“It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.”

--Blaise Pascal

More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page...

Existentialism

85%

Hedonism

60%

Justice (Fairness)

55%

Utilitarianism

50%

Kantianism

50%

Apathy

35%

Divine Command

30%

Strong Egoism

25%

Nihilism

10%

What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03)
created with QuizFarm.com

(am I) gaining ground

(am I) losing face

(am I) lost and found by saving grace

Thursday
Aug162007

Each Small Step Compels The Next

We all face struggles in our lives and we all deal with them in different ways, even the same issue is dealt with in different ways at different times. I think all that 'positive thinking' shit that’s always been around is just that ... shit. I think that we always have a choice and I think that we forget this every day; from the seemingly insignificant to the obviously life-changing.

But what if the seemingly insignificant choices ARE the life-changing ones?

After all, big decisions are really only possible after a long string of little ones. I, for example, never believed - growing up where I did- that I would ever own my own place as a single person. I moved to a city where that was a realistic goal but still, it just never occurred to me - I didn't make enough, my credit would take years to rebuild etc etc etc. My boss one day convinced me to start putting money into an RRSP - something I'd never done and honestly, something that, also, had never occurred to me mostly because I think I believed I'd never live that long. Or maybe, to be honest, I never really wanted to live that long, never wanted to face old age, alone and poor.

I think I put in $25 every two weeks, I still do, in fact. Big deal, right? Whoopee!

Five years later while at my bank asking for a car loan to help rebuild my credit the banker suggested we look at buying a condo. A seemingly innocent decision – the small amount I put into RRSP's each month, enabled the big decision. Suddenly, I actually DID have the money for a down payment.

Now, five years later again, the sale of that condo would net me at least $150,000. What freedom I have. If/ when I want it. All from one little choice - to listen to a piece of advice. I've achieved something I'd thought wasn't possible, without even meaning to.

If you put some thought into it - all that's happened in your life, good AND bad, started out with one small choice. That may seem too simplistic but I think that life IS simple and each choice we make leads to every other choice we're faced with. We don't give enough credit to ourselves for the good things and there's always someone else to blame for the bad.

"They" tell us that one of the hallmarks of happiness and well-being is a feeling of control over our lives.

The Internal-External Locus of Control Scale, developed by Julian Rotter, in part addresses this.

Rotter believed that one dimension along which people varied was the degree to which they believed they controlled what happened to them. Those that felt that their efforts made a difference were labelled internals. People who believed that nothing they did made much of a difference, that they were pawns manipulated by fate, luck, or capricious powerful others, were called externals.

Internals and externals vary in a number of different ways. Generally internals are more active, alert and task-oriented in their attempts to manipulate and control their world. Externals tend to think they have no choice but to sit back and take whatever fate hands to them. Externals tend to be somewhat neurotic, resentful, suspicious of others, irritable, depressed and low in self-esteem. This is not to say that internals cannot have their share of psychological problems, but externals do in fact tend to view the world as a threatening and hostile place, and they tend to feel that nothing they can do will make it better.

In other words - there are perpetual victims who need not take responsibility for their actions, choices and lives and there are people who aren’t.

People choose their own unhappiness. If you've chosen that for yourself, that's fine. You don't have the right, however, to inflict that upon anyone else and I think that lately, this is what's been upsetting me most. Somewhere along the line I've started really seeing the patterns around me and further, have lost my ability to willingly be a part of them, even if it's only implied by my silence.

It's time to stop playing the victim. To the world. To me. To yourself.

Do us all a favor and start making those small choices.