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I went into Wal-Mart this morning to pick up milk and butter. Since it was the day after Easter, I decided to pick up some discount chocolate on Cheap Chocolate Day. I go into the clearance aisle with my cart, and move out of the way to avoid some older women coming through. While trying to back up, I move into a display that I didn't know was behind me, unfortunately, I also push my cart into a woman with a mobility scooter. Now, I laugh at myself because this is what I always do in situations caused by my own clumsiness, but the lady in the scooter takes things the wrong way. I can't really blame her, but I do apologize because I really just didn't see her there.

She says, "Sure you are, that's why you're laughing." Now, I realize she's got issues which is why she's using a mobility scooter, and she's probably got plenty of other reasons to be angry. I just say "Bitch" and wonder off to look for some other things I actually *needed* in the store. I come back later, and the woman backs her scooter up into my ankle braces.

"Thanks for running into my ankle braces," I say, as I walk on my way.

I hear her mutter, "Sorry."

If there's any moral to this story, it's that I shouldn't have been buying clearance Easter candy I didn't need just because I wanted a cheap supply of chocolate. It could be a lesson that I need to work on my responses, or it could simply be a lesson that the lady was dealing with her issues in her own way.  I do not know the story of that woman.

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Okay, I'm only posting this here because I'm sure it means something, and I've spent all day trying to figure it out.

I am traveling down a railroad track near the family cabin. Something happens, but I don't know what it was. When I wake up, I am in the cabin with my paternal grandfather and grandmother. I'm dressed in a yellow night gown. I can see and here everything around me, but for some reason I can't communicate or make myself understood in any way. My mind is still working, but everyone is treating me as if I wasn't there or something tragic happened.

In any case, after I leave the cabin, I go to a Dollar General store with my brother and sister. For some reason, this store has floors. I break off from them and go to the elevator and choose the second floor. Here the dream breaks off from me, and I see my brother and sister conversing with each other.

My brother speaks first, he says, "He must remember what the manager did to her."  (Apparently my subconscious still has trouble with pronouns as well.  Then again, my brother would never refer to me as 'her.')

My sister just says, "I'm glad she remembered something.

I think this dream was about feeling powerless, and it might have been my subconscious trying to deal with all of the frustrations in my life at the moment.

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Because I've been in a better mood, I decided to take up some hobby. Initially, I thought this should be some sort of crafting, but I realized that my poor coordination would not permit good quality items and baking is just too expensive for me right now.  I decided to delve back into video gaming, specifically mobile gaming and see if I could make a few videos.  (This may or may not have been driven by my housemate's incessant need to watch game videos.)

At some point, I decided I wanted to do more than screen recording, so I thought getting a  digital camera with recording capability might be a good idea. I used some of the money my father gave me for Christmas and picked up the Jazz DV140 at Wal-Mart.  Well, for playing around it works fine, but I've found out my Windows tablet and my cell phone have much better cameras, even with the front facing option.  (It does not have very good reviews, but it does function as a camera.)  In any case, it will still work fine for me to learn the basics of working with a digital camera, even if the highest resolution it can capture is 640 x 480.

For the moment, I don't know what to talk about. Since I've had more energy I've been turning to various projects, including advancing the e-book I was working on. (I may just give up on it on some point and put it on Google Play and Amazon.  I don't have high hopes for it in the first place. it was an extension of what I did for Letters for My Sisters.

In any case, I took a shower this afternoon, and gave the problem of a decent tripod for my camera some thought.  I hit upon the idea of using the housemate's music stand, an option which I had considered before. This stand caused me to think about the adjustable music stands that I had once use, and I remembered that I actually had one in a trumpet case.   I took it out, tried shooting a video with it, and it worked just fine.

Now, it seems that if I want to record myself talking, I'll at least have that option until I can afford better equipment.

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I finally bit the bullet and made an appointment to get my remaining wisdom teeth removed. The original appointment was scheduled in January, but someone canceled their appointment and a slot opened up tomorrow. I am not excited about this particularly, but I am sincerely hoping waking up due to pain in the cheek was caused by a decaying wisdom tooth and not one of the other various fun things my anxiety likes to imagine happening at a time like this.  Unless my anxiety has legitimate reasons to suspect something more scary in these situations, it should expect me to ignore its suggestions as best as I can.

I had two days to prepare for this.  After I returned from a therapist's appointment this morning, I found my cell phone and started to make a few calls. I expected a royal run-around from Anthem Blue Cross/Blue Shield, and I almost got one. I had two make two calls to Anthem and two calls to the dental office total. The dental office agreed with me that Anthem Blue Cross/Blue Shield was as much of a pain in the a** as I said they were, and eventually said she would have the dentist fill out the form tomorrow. Now, I just have to get this oral surgery out of the way.   (I did, afterwards, have to make it clear to the housemate that whether I get sedated or not, she is not getting out of going with me to this appointment tomorrow.)     Getting the insurance to pay for it and getting the wisdom teeth taken out quickly was the victory in this session.   (Some people would say the likelihood of getting strong painkillers is also a victory, but I've tried to avoid using prescription painkillers as much as possible.)

The victories are nice, but there was also a defeat. Because of the financial situation, I will likely have to let my car insurance lapse. I called the company today to see if I could get an extension, but it turns out that I cannot. All I can do to keep it in effect is pay 75% of the premium amount owed. This does me no good when I won't have the money until this Saturday, and I can't get them a money order out until Monday morning.  I could use a prepaid credit card, but it would still be cheaper to use the money order, stamp and envelope.  At least I can pick up the insurance again when the situation improves.

But since today is the sixteenth, it's time for some holiday wishes: If you are Jewish, I hope you had a Happy Hannukah. If you are Christmas, I will wish you a Merry Christmas. If you will be celebrating the Saturnalia and then the Larentalia starting tomorrow, Io Saturnalia!, if you are Asatru or Neo-Pagan, Happy Yuletide!  To the Asatruar, watch out for Old One Eye. He has a tendency to be as tricky as Loki and he's known for being especially active this time of year.

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 Despite not getting a lot of sleep last night, I'm feeling pretty good today. I may be a little stiff and sore, but I didn't wake up feeling tired for the first time in weeks, and I didn't need to take a nap in the afternoon.  I'll try to hit the gym later tonight, and I may need to ask the Y if there's anything more they can do to help me continue my membership. The housemate may have two good leads on potential jobs, and this will ease some of the financial problems in the house. I hope she follows up on both of them and doesn't wait for people to call her.  Her financial situation getting fixed is far more important than mine getting fixed at the moment.

I am aware of the shooting in California and I heard one report saying it took place at a center that provides services to adults with developmental disabilities.  I will catch up on this later, but I fear this will be another excuse to call for the warehousing of mentally ill people and calls to further restrict the rights of people who have mental illnesses and no history of violence.  

For now, I'm just going to wait for dinner to be prepared and listen to some Simon and Garfunkel. No point in not enjoying these times for as long as possible.

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 The attempts at Cross stitch did not go well, but I am not too upset by their failure. I suspected my lack of coordination might be an issue for this particular task.  It’s probably more useful right now to continue my attempts to learn additional Spanish at least. (Duolingo says that I am still at 51%.)  There’s also that project that’s been on the back burner that I should really complete. It won’t take too long if I can just bring myself to do the editing. I am, unsurprisingly, lacking the motivation for the last part.  I’ve also noticed that Udacity has added an Android development course. I may pick that up if my language studies come to a satisfactory point that lets me rest a bit.  Even though things have not improved much, I am still in a good mood.  Things are stable for now.  Now, there’s the issue of the housemate suggesting I should check into my options in Pennsylvania, but that is six months away. For now, I have time to deal with this.  It may be time to look into getting the van back on the road and taking the chance to get the Hell out of Indiana. 

I am still grateful for having had the chance to live here for three years.  I have a wonderful friend and I have met interesting people.   I’ve even settled in a bit and gotten used to the ways of the Hoosier. I will even miss establishments like Steak ‘n Shake if I should leave the Midwest behind.   However, given how much I’ve complained about how this state has treated people in my situation, I doubt I’ll miss it that much.

Nothing is certain yet, and there may even be a way out of the particular situation, although it will not be through me getting disability. I still have yet to hear back from the Indiana Vocational Rehabilitation office, and the housemate has been doing a bit more earnest job searching. I’ve even suggested she return as an adjunct professor to the Indiana Vocational Technical College, or IVY Tech. I hope this works out for her. I hope she can find the CNC job she wants as well.

I cannot prove it, but I have a bit more than a vague feeling that things are starting to get better. Now, if  there would just be some actual change in circumstances that backs up my faith.

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 The Parke County Covered bridge festival ends this weekend. Even though I have lived in Indiana for three years, I have not actually been to this event. Normally, I avoided it because it’s a crowded, over-priced affair designed to separate tourists from their money. I avoided local festivals for the same reason back in Pennsylvania.  I did feel, however, that I should go see it one of these years just for the sake of seeing it. The housemate, who feels much the same way I do about these festivals, asked if I wanted to go see it. Much to her surprise, I said yes.  After she asked the sentence and heard the response, she realized her mistake and looked quickly for a way out of it.

Fortunately for her, a quick limp into the kitchen provided her with the answer she sought. “Okay. We’ll go. But you do understand that you’ll have to walk a lot, won’t you?  If I see any indication that you’re not able to walk long distances, we’re staying home.”

Now, I did not have a good response to this at the time, but now I think I do. Many such festivals have taken the leads of stores and provided mobility scooters and wheelchairs for people with mobility issues to use. I think I’ll just suggest that we rent one to her if she balks about going.  After all, she doesn’t mind spending extra time in the store when she can see I’m in pain if it will save a few cents.

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 I woke up early this morning. I felt tired, but that is not new. I did some surfing on the Internet, and went to put away the dishes. When my legs and hips started to hurt, a thought occurred to me. I wondered if I had been focused so much on what has gone wrong in the past year that I have failed to appreciate the good things in my life.  As I walked out to the kitchen, thinking that it needs a good cleaning, as I usually do, I thought I would take the time to inventory them.

First, there’s the housemate.  I don’t really know how to thank her for what she’s done. She’s given me a place to stay.  This place has allowed me to transition. Cathy may almost be as stubborn as a Pennsylvania Dutchwoman, and I’m slowly trying to adopt her into this tribe, particularly with food offerings, but she thinks it’s better to remain a Hoosier.  Let’s boil this down to the basic facts. Without her, I’d be on the streets right now, and things would be much worse for me than they are. She is one of my transgender sisters, who I often fail to appreciate.  It’s hard to realize that the people closest to us suffer with us, even if they cannot fully understand what is happening inside of our bodies.

Then there’s my biological sister.  She may be stubborn, opinionated, and a Fox News devotee, but she’s almost always been there when I needed her.  700 miles may separate us, but she’s always been the biological family member I’ve been closest to. I know she does not think much of people who have my diagnosis, and does not necessarily understand the invisible part of the illness, but I think she acknowledges something is wrong. I think she might think I’m exaggerating, and sometimes I wonder if I am. Usually when I get this way, a really bad pain day will come along to remind me that I still have issues.

Before I forget them, my brothers. I was going to separate this into half- and full-, but I realized that’s ridiculous. They’re still blood relatives, no matter how many of my parents’ DNA we share. Andy and I may not get along or see eye to eye, but there are still times when he has been there for me, and my actions – particularly regarding refusing to use State Farm because of what his State Farm agent did while he was in Afghanistan – have surprised him.  Bill probably would like to have known his other siblings better when he grew up, but circumstances prevented this. He is trying to reach out now, and that is what counts.

My family in general. My grandmother has tried to be supportive, even though I have kept information from her. I don’t want to worry an 88-year-old woman unnecessarily. My father still tries, even though he thinks what I’m going through is merely the result of getting older. (I’m getting tired of hearing this from people, by the way.  The only normal part of aging out of this has been the need to wear eyeglasses constantly.)  The remaining aunts and uncles have offered as much support as they can, if they’ve paid any attention to my Facebook page.

Online Friends.  I have always felt more comfortable sharing my feelings online in semi-anonymity than I do in real life.  Partly, this is the whole socialized as male thing, which I hate in more ways than I can describe. Even though I hate it, these behaviors have long become habit.  Vlad has been there to offer a shoulder to cry on the most throughout this process, and I’ve probably adopted them as an unlikely mentor who guides me through unfamiliar territory.

Online support groups have been helpful, and I’ve tried to focus a lot of my complaining there.  At first, I told everyone, but that started to get old, even for me.  The people I chat with regularly in the Fibro support group I’m in, who I know as Poolgoddess, Quilter’s Way, E1989 and QueenPink know the struggles and the ups and downs of going through the disability process.  One of them, Quilter’s Way, managed to get it on the first time through. PoolGoddess and I are going through reconsideration, and QueenPink, who lives in Ireland, has not had to go through the social security administration to get disability benefits.

I will post this to my Blogspot and Dreamwidth blog, so everyone who knows about either blog can read them.

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 Spending time in fibro chat room can be depressing. Such forums often turn into a vehicle to air their complaints. However, it's also one of the few places you'll find other people who understand.  Last night, the topic turned, as it often does, to the financial struggles each of the regular chatters face. One person, who lives in Ireland, successfully got her social security equivalent. The people in the United States are still struggling with various elements of the disability system in the United States. Most of us are stuck in disability limbo. We are either married or have support from another source.  All of us would rather not have to live off of other people in this matter.  The system, in each of the states in question, seems to be the same one that exists in Indiana. The other two people I see regularly in the same situation cannot even get food stamps because their husbands make too much money.  (Now, everyone here, for some bizarre reason, has been diagnosed with fibromyalgia and some form of arthritis, even if the form is non-specific. I think it's just coincidence.)  Eventually, she expressed regret that there is no help for people like us.

And she's exactly right.  Even though she's in her late 50s and fairly close to collecting social security benefits anyway, the government expects her to prove that she cannot do the work that she used to do.  Her doctors told her to stop working, but the Social security administration is making her wait to even get the initial review. (The one that almost always says the doctors are wrong and someone either is not disabled or can do some other form of work.)  They sent her case into administrative review and she has to wait until December to even get that answer. My case went quickly.  I think they'll take more time with the reconsideration, as they're actually seeking out the records that exist under my dead name.

In the meantime, we exist in limbo. We live and keep roofs over our heads, but we enjoy this privilege only as long as others tolerate us. We're forced with living on the street or finding a new job to keep us afloat. As far as the government is concerned, getting a new job means we did not need to apply in the first place. If the same problem happens, the law does not consider that we were only delaying the inevitable to avoid the unpleasant circumstances of not having an income.

Part of me really wants to go back to Pennyslvania, but I'm stuck here for now, unless some other miracle occurs.
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 ...this conversation needs to be shared.

Housemate: Have you seen Fox News's lead story on their website today?

Me: No.

[Looks over at screen]

Housemate: Mom and Dad in the Dark: Oregon pays for Teen sex-change operations

[Angry ranting]

Me: Wouldn't you have done that when you were a teenager?

Housemate: Well, yeah.

Me: Which one of us was arguing against moving to another state in the Pacific Northwest last night?

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 The state of Indiana continues to be helpful with my current situation. I set out this morning to apply for the Lifeline program, to go to the Work One office to see if I could figure out what was going on, and I had to stop at the Division of Family Resources building to clear up something with my SNAP claim. I did not intend to do the last item, but I found out they had canceled my food stamp claim on the phone earlier this morning.

 The SNAP issue was resolved quickly.  The workers figured it was some sort of common SNAFU with the main office in Marion County, who probably didn’t bother to read the official separation e-mail I sent them. It’s one less worry at least.

 Next, I went to the Catholic Charities building, which usually has a sign outside advertising the SafeLink program. No one put the sign out today, so I will have to wait for another time to use that method. This was a minor setback, and I can apply for the program online.

 With that out of the way, I set out for the Workforce building to see if there was anything that could be done with my unemployment claim.  I found out that it was still waiting available because I quit for medical reasons. I was told the process could take up to ten weeks, and there was no guarantee I would be approved. The worker still said I had to keep filing until the decision is made. (This does not make sense to me, but it just seems to be one of the hoops I have to jump through.)

 I wish I knew more about how to navigate this state’s systems, but it seems there are frustrations at every turn. Now it’s time rest and to recover the energy spent this morning.  Then, I can go on to doing dishes and baking bread.

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 Me: So, how was the new Mad Max movie?

Sister: It was just one long, poorly-plotted road fight.

Me: You have seen the Mad Max movies, right?

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For the past few days, I've been able to tell when a storm is coming through. It's not a surprise to anyone who shares my affliction, but my housemate feels the need to check the actual weather reports. It led to this conversation.

Me: "I'm pretty sure it's not going to rain in the next couple of hours, so I'm going out."

Her:  "Hold on, wait. Let me check the weather channel's website."

Me: "Why bother? I no longer need to rely on primitive tools like the Weather Channel to tell me when a storm is coming."
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 Today is the housemate's 42nd birthday.  She shared this information early in the morning, and I paid as much attention to it as I pay to her requests for me to kill the spiders in the bathroom. (I like the spiders in the bathroom. They kill things I don't like. As long as they aren't poisonous to me, I'm happy to share my house with them. Plus, it's bad luck to kill spiders.)  

Eventually, the information made its way into my brain. I said "Happy Birthday."

I did not get thanked as she expected. Instead, she reminded me that she was an fat woman over 40 who did not want to be reminded that today was, in fact, her birthday.  I realize there are other events that she probably does not want to remember, including er getting arrested for actually following Indiana law. The anniversary of my arrival in Indiana also occurred a few days later.  But even though I'm not over 40, I share her weight issues and I still want people to remember my important days.  I just refuse to believe Star Wars turns 40 years old at the same time I do.

Sadly, I would have taken out to see Agengers 2: Age of Ultron if the doctor who did my foot surgery had not forgotten that I proably wouldn't be able to go back to work right after the surgery.

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 I have encountered many treatment and diet suggestions that purportedly help with my condition.  Usually people make these out of a place of concern. I will listen to them patiently. If I think the suggestion has merit, I may act upon it. If I do not have information, it means I will research it first.  Failure to act immediately is not a judgment against someone trying to give me additional information. I am only exercising skepticism and trying to avoid the many snake oil scams that target people with certain conditions. If a suggestion has merit, I will do my own research. I may even try it, provided that the information does not contradict what I already know. Anyone who gives me this information should have some faith that I will reach out to them if I want their help managing my medical conditions.

Such advice often extends to dietary issues. People often latch on to the latest fad because they think it will improve their health.  Gluten-free mania and the paleo diet are the best examples of this at the moment.  Despite what some alternative health practitioners believe, removing gluten from the diet does not benefit fibromyalgia patients unless they also have celiac disease.  This is also true for almost all autoimmune diseases, with one obvious exception. (I know there are a few other conditions that may require a person to cut out gluten, but I do not know what they are off-hand.)  Until leaky gut has more scientific evidence behind it, should such a thing ever occur, I will remain skeptical.  Believers put forth plausible-sounding theories, but I have not seen any research coming from academic sources that proves the existence of the condition.

People who have fibromyalgia and/or autoimmune conditions – other than celicac disease again – who have tried these methods and found that they work should not give them up.  Such patients may experience the placebo effect or the nocebo effect. They may even have undiagnosed wheat allergies or celiac disease. I will not question their stories about how one of these diets worked for them as long as they do not insist that the same diet will work for me. (I’ve tried it. It didn’t do much. Besides, I had reasons *for* trying a gluten-free diet, reasons which include a doctor who just wrote my symptoms off as fibromyalgia before he ruled other conditions out.)

Politely thanking a concerned party and turning down their suggestion is not a rejection of the person. It only indicates that I have decided not to follow that person’s suggestion. I am likely to dismiss ideas that come across as pseudoscience. If the idea sounds plausible to me, I will ask for more information. Any person who has made it this far should avoid using phrases like “Google It.” The third party brought this information to me. By engaging in a conversation, I have already made the reasonable assumption that  they want me to ask about their proposed solution.

I understand that the people closest to me and compassionate people worry about my health, particularly if they see me on high-pain days. Please make the assumption that I really am doing the best I can with the resources I have available.  Unlike the concerned third party, I have to live in this body every day. This body is better than some and worse than others. Assume that I know what works for me and what does not.  Do this  and  I will do my best to return the favor.

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 1.) Lobby to provide low-income coverage to residents of the state of Indiana and get approved
 2.) Provide paperwork that shows an impressive array of services  at what are supposedly cost-saving measures.
 3.) Sign up  the state and get customers to pay a modest premium
4.) Do everything you can possibly can to prevent those services from being provided
5.) Ignore federal law that says you can't discriminate against transgender people, frequently change the gender marker every time a doctor's office sends in paper work with a gender marker that is the opposite of your legal gender
6.) Refuse to pay for this low-priced medication on principle, even though you've already refused to cover Linzess and probably certainly wouldn't cover Lyrica because there's no generic for it at the moment. (Thank goodness I'm on gabapentin.)

Okay, I'm done complaining.  This is the second time they've pulled this particular trick. I'm getting sick of it.   It was a fairly good day  until I went to pick up the prescriptions.
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(Note: Readers can see the video here.  There is a lot of valid criticism to apply to this message, but I am only applying it to my situation.)

Yesterday, I came across a video called, “Sometimes we just need to shut up.” I am not going to argue for or against the Vlogger’s advice on a broad level, but I think it’s applicable to me.

When I first started suffering from intense pain in my right thigh nearly a year ago, I complained vociferously about the pain I felt in my right thigh. It’s understandable. The cramping kept me up at night, and the pain almost brought me to tears.  However, even I got tired of it, and I realized other people probably got tired of me complaining about it. The only lasting effect I’ve had from this is learning a lot more about migraines than I’d care to because my roommate now figures it’s safe to talk about her symptoms when she experiences them. 

Perhaps one of the things that drew me to journalism in the first place is the belief that information should be shared. I want to put helpful information out there so people can use it.  A side effect of this is I often offer up information that people do not need to know or even care about.  (This could indicate that I’m on the Autism spectrum.)   At first, I told everyone how I felt, but eventually I realized that most people do not care.

It does not mean that complete strangers are cruel or heartless. It’s just that they do not know me. They have problems of their own that they do not share with me on a daily basis. A complete stranger has no reason to trust me with this information, and even if they did, there’s often little I can do about it anyway.  Some of the people who I might have told, including co-workers, might not have had my interests at heart. Because my workplace is dominated by women, I know that its interpersonal politics can be quite vicious.   Starting the job while presenting as male shields me from some but not all of this behavior.

I don’t always withhold this information when I should. If I experience a lot of pain, I may let this information slip because my mind is elsewhere at the moment. I’ve also had to answer the questions of persistent people who can see that something is wrong. One customer even handed me a business card and told me he could fix my problem.   (That business card is now hanging on the refrigerator, ostensibly in order to build a ‘quack file’ of people never to contact.)

Now, she suggests just saying that someone is fine as a way of starting new conversations or taking a break. I am not as social as the woman who does the Chronic Babe vlog and Youtube videos, but regardless of why she or I do it, it’s still a good practice not to focus on what is wrong all the time.

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 The past year has presented its own challenges.  Becoming sick, dealing with chronic pain, and having to deal with all of the fallout that’s come from that. It’s not over yet.  However, it’s also caused to re-evaluate some of my long-held beliefs. Unlike my religious beliefs, they are not deeply held beliefs. They are simply assumptions that I had made about which political party had the right idea to fix some of the problems in this country, particularly for people who are working class and otherwise poor. I have also re-examined some of my spiritual beliefs as part of the process.

Although I do not claim to be an expert on Daoism, I do appreciate the spiritual philosophy of the Dao De Jing.  The Dao, supposedly, shows us the way. Like water, it goes to the low and loathsome places – according to Ursula K. LeGuin’s version – and it nourishes all.  It does this for every thing, and it asks nothing in return.  We are all caught in its current, and each of our lives takes place within its streams. Going against that path makes things tougher for us, although it is not impossible to change direction, but the current makes it extremely difficult for each of us to drastically change our directions.

I thought about this for a while and how it sits with how I have lived my life, which is essentially in conflict from the direction it seems to be taking.  Now, this also conflicts somewhat with how I see things.  I believe that life is a struggle that we face from the day we are born until the day we die.  

Finding a way to avoid the cognitive dissonance caused by these two conflicting beliefs is not easy.  However, I think there is a way.  I don’t know if there’s something I’m supposed to learn in this life or not. If there is, I think it’s about learning which battles I should fight and which battles I should not.  I don’t want to let go of the path my life has been taking. I’ve had fairly steady employment.  I’ve finally kept a job for more than two years, even if it does not pay particularly well. The signals I’m getting now are telling me I should let go of this and accept that the elements of my Wyrd that are beyond my control. Those elements are suggesting that my life needs to take a new direction.

Whether I like it to or not, my Wyrd has been joined to the Wyrds of others who suffer from chronic illnesses. Maybe it’s time I used my meager talents to help them. I’ve even got a good idea of how to do it.

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Perhaps it's just the fact that it is finally getting to be summer-like and now the housemate and I can agree on the temperature in the house being too warm, but I remain in a good mood today. My circumstances are not much better than they have been, but at least they do not seem to be getting worse right now, as far as I know.

I think I'll even try going out for a short walk today.  It's the type of day that a wise person would enjoy. Maybe I'll even drive to Hawthorne Park and go for a short walk in the woods. Even though this isn't that good of an idea, sometimes I just need to be in the woods to recharge my spiritual batteries.  (Of course, driving to the park and walking in the woods might expend physical energy that I might only think I have right now.)

I just hope this trend continues.

Now, if this pressure in the throat would stop.  It's not quite sore, but it is distracting. It feels like I'm wearing a tie when I'm not.

sinisterporpoise: (Default)
 It seems that the aftermath of the toe surgery has drawn to a close. I was cleared to go back to work and to wear real shoes again today. At least I can finally start breaking in the orthotics I received just after they completed the surgery.  At least that's one less thing to worry about. Sadly, I'm not scheduled to go back to work for another week yet.  I hope I'm not misreading the signals from some of my bosses, who think that this will solve all of the problems I've been having with standing at work.  (Of course, I'm still not clear on why the surgery was necessary.  Performing it to relieve the pain doesn't seem to be a valid one since the pain from the toes didn't bother me that much. Nor did he seem to answer my question about why the extra bone in each big toe would become inflamed after 38 years or so of causing no problems.)

Next week, I will meet with a new therapist, who apparently has worked as an LGBT activist and in social justice causes according to the pamphlet put out by the Hamilton Center. I will meet her the day after I come back to work. I think meeting her will be an interesting experience, regardless of how it turns out.

Although things seem okay right now, there was one problem  that has bummed me out slightly.  My laptop screen got cracked somehow last night. I am not sure how this happened. Either I stepped on it and didn't realize it as I went out to get some milk at 3 a.m. in the hopes that it would finally get me to sleep, or I did something in my sleep that caused it to become cracked.  (I'm betting on the first option in this case.  It was hard to tell exactly where my feet were while I was wearing the surgical shoes.)

The only downside of getting out of the surgical shoes is I'd finally adjusted to how they were affecting my balance.  Now that I'm back in normal shoes, it's going to take a few days to get the original sense of balance of back. 


sinisterporpoise: (Default)

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