I’m not a gardener. Well, metaphorically speaking, I guess. I shovel shit. I clean up messes. I plant shit and it grows. It withers. I fight to keep it alive. And at a certain point, I just have to trust. That’s my stretch. I don’t trust much. Not people. Not God. Not the Universe. Not Family. Again, that is my big soul lesson, and I’m working it, and working it good. I had a teacher that once told me that soul lessons are learned. And then, when you’ve got it learned, the universe flips the lesson on its ear and shows it to you again. And again, and again. Coupled with the trust lesson, is the lesson on support. I struggle daily about how to get it, how to deal with feelings of abandonment. Again, multi-faceted lessons knock me on my ass everytime.
As one of my oldest friends reminded me today, “Well behaved Women Rarely Make History”.
This is my blog. I use metaphor, I process, and I take creative liberties. At times I disrespect people and joke at their expense, but I don’t mean it literally. I use METAPHOR.
- Main Entry: met·a·phor
- Pronunciation: \ˈme-tə-ˌfȯr also -fər\
- Function: noun
- Etymology: Middle English methaphor, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French metaphore,from Latin metaphora, from Greek, from metapherein to transfer, from meta- + pherein to bear — more at bear
- Date: 15th century
1 : a figure of speech in which a word or phrase literally denoting one kind of object or idea is used in place of another to suggest a likeness or analogy between them (as in drowning in money);broadly : figurative language — compare simile
2 : an object, activity, or idea treated as a metaphor : symbol 2
— met·a·phor·ic \ˌme-tə-ˈfȯr-ik, –ˈfär-\ or met·a·phor·i·cal \-i-kəl\ adjective
— met·a·phor·i·cal·ly \-i-k(ə-)lē\ adverb
This blog helps me to survive. Both as a mom of sick kids and as a person with two parasitic infections and one bacterial infection that flourishes in the CNS and brain tissue.
Spend a day in my shoes, and you’ll take shots where you can.
If you understand, you understand. If you don’t, you don’t. I have to do my life the best I can. Maybe I’ll call David Sedaris for pointers.
I was bit by a tick in 1985, my senior year of college(and some before and after, I’m sure) and it changed the course of my life. Now, as a parent of two children with congenital lyme, I have to re-define myself. I’m not a lyme warrior. I’m not an advocate. I don’t want to be defined by my illness AND I don’t want to deny it. I don’t want to live in my loss, AND I want to build and plan a future.
If you think I have made Lyme my identity, feel free to help me figure out how to do it differently. I need help with that, because I rarely have moments when my bones don’t hurt me to tears, and when I don’t think my brain is rotting, which it appears to be doing until we get the Bartonella under control. And I don’t know how to do this. There is no protocol for Lyme. There aren’t a whole lot of role models for folks who have an entire family that is chronically ill.
If I offend you, I am sorry. Walk my life for a day and tell me you would do it differently.
There's only us There's only this Forget regret-- or life is yours to miss. No other road No other way No day but today There's only yes Only tonight We must let go To know what is alright No other course No other way No day but today I can't control My destiny I trust my soul My only hope is just to be There's only now There's only here Give in to love Or live in fear No other path No other way No day but today