Skip to main content

Blogging on Medication

It's late...and I'm on some meds that make me loopy and uber relaxed. So...what could wrong by combining that with some blogging? Suuuuure. Nothing, right?

Been a couple of weeks since I blogged. Mostly been collecting stress and super gluing it to my neck and head and shoulders and eyes. This is why today, when the doctor put her hands on my neck and shoulders, she took a quick breath and said, "Oh honey. You are a mess."

Why yes, yes I am. Thanks for noticing. I'm not going 'round the bed mentally or anything, although I think a mental vacation of a sorts might be just the thing. No, I've just accumulated so much tension in my life recently, that it's collected in my back, shoulders, neck and eyeballs.

Did I mention that most of the time my eyes feel as though they are sitting inside of a cannon, about to be shot into the air at high velocity. They hurt so badly. Thankfully I am the happy recipient of a plethora of medicinal pallatives and an appointment for physical therapy and massage.

oooooh, massage. I can hardly wait.

I would tell you of the stress that has been settling upon me as a heavy, scratchy wool blanket on a hot summer night. You know, when you really wouldn't WANT it on you, but I'd be discussing private matters and that would never do. It would, in fact, cause greater stress to settle down upon me.

So here I sit, relaxed enough that I'm 'bout to fall right off this chair. It's wonderful that I can think about the various situations going on and not have that tight, hot ball of dread roiling around in my chest making it difficult to catch my breath. I know the problems will still be there in the morning---but for now, just for a tiny bit of time---I'm going to take a break from them and just...breathe.

Breathing is highly under valued.

As I close out this spectacularly boring blog post, I wish to you leave you with this:
There are so many moments in my life that I am unable to recall. I don't remember the first time I rode a bike, or have any memory of having chicken pox. So, so many things that are not accessible in my memory...but this one thing I will never forget. The soft feel of Stephanie's cheek when I felt it for the first time. Her tiny little head, hardly any hair....holding her iddy biddy body in my arms and gently running my finger back and forth over the softest thing I'd ever experienced in life. I can literally still feel that. If I close my eyes, I can bring back the scent memory of her---and I am awash in tender memories.

Many things have changed since that day, 23 years ago. My total love and devotion to this soft-cheeked child has not. She'll never hold the memory of me lightly grazing her cheeks with my finger to feel that velvet, but I'll never forget it. Ever. It was at that moment that I knew I would protect her with my life---and I don't mean figuratively. I hope one day she will know this feeling...and then she will understand.


  1. Cindy Rhoades12:11 AM

    Loved that last paragraph. It explains everything. I'm right with ya.

  2. I know I'm not alone in my struggles. Sometimes it feels that way....and then I realize I have wonderful friends who share my sorrows and my burdens. I'm thankful for each of you.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…