' My Very Dearest, Wonderful Friends, A 'Life' Test For You...'

‘ My Very Dearest, Wonderful Friends, A ‘Life’ Test For You: Is There A ‘Balance In Your Life? ‘

04/11/12

One morning at about 5:00 AM, with my hair undone, and sprawled over my head which was cradled in my arms, I—once again—awoke in an utter agony of pain, sitting out at the kitchen counter; I did not reach full consciousness easily, but resisted it with all my sense of purpose.  My eyes were blurry, almost glued shut, keeping tempi with my heartbeat as my head thrummed in a migraine so severe that I felt red-faced, and sweaty.  It almost seemed as if I had been dragged awake in jagged stages, to find myself in such a totality of pain, that I began to rock back and forth as I sat there, tears, slowly running down my face, and over sinuses, and a nose that was clogged with congestion.

My voice was capable of making only aching, animal-like sounds, and from my illnesses—and, having spent most of the night in an office chair in a kitchen whose lights were suddenly too bright, they hurt my eyes.  At that moment, I could not pause to rationally assay the seeming limitless of my pain.  And yet, to try to somehow, reclaiming my scattered thoughts, I allowed the pain to tear through me, as every muscle and joint resonated with pain, and I imagine all bodily systems were as impaired.

Quickly, I lumbered over to where I keep my pain medication, and took extra the ordered dose, because—at that point—I did not care, and…DO not care, when faced with such an thorough assemblage of utter pain, as long as I do not use up my prescriptions too soon, if they can instill some often brief relief, I will thus take them, leaving consequence, and consideration, until some more-relaxed time.

To me, there is no 1—10 pain scale; there is either a regular amount of pain that I can bear, to that which most effectively reduces me to an ‘animal state’ of pure reaction.

But, my very, very dearest friends, and ever kind and constant readers, while I was waiting for the coffee to be made—in an ‘adult’ attempt to shrug-away the suffering; while sipping on a reflective, and steaming hot cup of coffee, holding yet another cigarette in trembling hands, as the pain medications slowly, ever slowly brought down ( but did not eliminate!) by mind and body’s global agony, not six feet away from me, was my dog Daisy, sleeping on the living room rug, her whispered exhalations letting me know that she was sound asleep, and who occasionally has pain of her own; here was the dog who had adopted my late mother and I some twelve years ago, who had decided to extend her trust to us, rather than to a mongrel’s brief, and uncertain life, to enlist us in her own, small ‘pack’, and, for times both good and bad, was on the day of her arrival, committing self to carefully guard her ‘humans’.

I suddenly experienced a rush of love for her; that she had dutifully followed me sometime during the night from the ease and comfort of the bedroom carpet, two feet from me, to follow me out to the kitchen, to stay with me, be with me, for, even if her silly ‘human’ wants to leave the warmth, and comfort of the bed—behind—to seek my rest, instead out in the kitchen then—to her—I must have had an important reason for doing so, and so kept me in her snoring sight to ever be close to me.  And, for that, I was suddenly grateful.

I realize that those at MDJunction come from many ages, and many, different complaints, yet, we still have a few things in common:

1)           That very curiosity that makes us Human.

2)            The pains and losses and despairs we share, as:

3)           In having such unutterably pain, we seek to know ‘why?’, and ‘where?’, and how much?’.

4)            As social creatures, even in our worst conditions, we still seek those at MDJunction, and, elsewhere, with whom we can bond, and share our complaints, knowing that MDJ—by and large—is a ‘safe zone’, in which no judgmental, nor negative comments will be offered; that only hope will  attend our frail, and inchoate searchings.

5)           There is no cure, and so, we look to others to see how they manage and ‘get by’, despite crippling pain.

6)           How often at this site, have we found compassion, support, and care too often denied us in life, when there is often no one else to care; or can care; or even hope to care?

7)           We all come to the table offering different ages, lifestyles, and circumstances. Often—though-- we are self-deluded, trapped, by, ‘can’t; won’t; couldn’t; shouldn’t’, to which I would ask you for a while to change—and consider instead, ‘can; will; could; and should.’

And while many times, I have heard (or said myself!), our illnesses and our suffering somehow draws a line across the sand of all our hopes, aspirations, dreams, desires, yet I would kindly ask you to consider—for a moment—my erred paraphrasing of the late Socio/Humanist Philosopher, Joseph Campbell, who once said that, were we to look back upon the events of our lives, close and bias-free, we might see a most discrete line—as fine as spider web—that would seem to reject all randomness to reveal a chart or path that would appear to have some, linked-together, and purposeful path, that somehow had meaning, truth, and beauty to it.

What I am asking of you, my dearest friends, is to take some much-needed quiet time (hopefully when pains are reduced, lest they pollute the scale), and with honesty and sincerity, evaluate your life to this hour, this minute, this very second.  Think of it as a something of a ‘Life Quiz’; for which you’ll need a lined tablet, and a reliable pen.  I have not, will not ask you to consider religion, or lack of it, for the true responsibility of ‘tending’ to your spirituality is unique, and much your own business; neither—for the same reason—am I interested in your politics, or of your ‘global’ opinion…for that is

yours and yours alone.  The assay I want you to take is more simplistic, more basic, and—perhaps—more about ‘fun’, than ‘fundamentals’.

Upon this tablet, I want you to draw a line down the center; label by number, if you so choose; one column titled ‘X’, and, the second, title ‘O’.  For what I am truly asking you to do is to make an evaluation of your lives, filled with both good and bad occurrences.

For every ‘yes’, you may—as you’d like—to place under each heading, an ‘ X’; and for every ‘no’, perhaps an ’ O ‘.

Remember, please that this not a scientific, to-be-published work; it is not professional in any way, but is based loosely on insurance actuality tables, some, little past experience, and personal observation these past forty years, and some twenty+years as a health care provider, with some reference to my work and degree in Social and Behavioral Sciences.  And so, I must confess to you, my very dearest friends, that a lot of thought went into these questions.

And while the questions might seem either odd or inappropriate, I do believe that they impact our daily lives, but that the ‘Quiz’ is both casual and arbitrary.

All it involves is that you be rigorously honest with yourself, in marking both ‘X’s’, and ‘O’s’. Should a question not apply, just skip over it to the next.

The goal is to give you (in totaling both the ‘X’s’, and the ‘O’s’), a rough look at the balance in your life; obviously—then, in general—the more ‘X’s’ that you add up, the better.  But having ‘O’s’, does not in any way imply that you are somehow a ‘bad’ or ‘deficient’ person.  Only YOU will be able to ascertain any areas of your life that need changing.

The questions that I shall pose come in no certain order, nor of magnitude.  What started my consideration was that morning I awoke in so much pain…yet, beyond me was my dog Daisy, who loved me unconditionally.

 In addition, in order to make the questions answerable with both, ‘X’s’, and ‘O’s’, most—perforce—are ‘yes’ and ‘no’ questions; for those questions that have deeper roots, I gladly leave them to you.  For, inside your very secret heart of hearts will you find other answers should you but seek them.

I asking for this ‘review’ of you, of course it is not scientific in any way, and, I must confess to you—dearest friends—that I seek answers for myself, and much as for you.  Alright.  Comfortable?  Quiet? Ready to go?  If so, please

let us kindly commence.  Remember, take your time, taking breaks as you may want them.

1)           Do you live alone? Give one ‘ O ‘.

2)           If you live with others, are you happy with the arrangement? If yes, one ‘X ‘; if no, one, ‘ O ’.

3)           Do you have a pet? If yes, one ‘ X’; if not place a ‘O’in the appropriate column.

4)           If you have up to three pets, one ‘ X ‘.

5)           If you have over five pets, one ‘ O ‘.

6)           Do you have children with criminal records? Or, in re-hab.? Or, in endless trouble? One ‘ O ‘, for each child.

7)           Do you have children who obey the law, are—in general—considerate and loving? One ‘ X ‘, for each child.

8)           In the past five years, have you had more than one relationship? Place a ‘O’ there.

9)           If you have had no relationships in that time, give two ‘O’s’.

10)   If—in the past five years—you have had only one relationship, ‘X’;

11)   If—in the past ten years—you have had only one relationship, mark two ‘X’s’.

12)   Would you consider your current relationship to be abusive in any way?  Place a ‘O’ there.

13)   If you are currently trying to escape from an abusive situation? Mark down an ‘X’.

14)   If you have successfully escaped from an abusive relationship, and are no longer abused, write down three ‘ X’s’.

My very, very dearest friends…please note that I have—after a long, soul-search—included relationships that are abusive, or that have become toxic; it is in NO way my intention to make light of, or, in any way make less serious, and often, life-threatening abusive relationships can be.  Nor, is it my goal to in any way attempt to lessen the pernicious EVIL that is abuse. NO ONE deserves to be abused…whether spouses, children…or pets.  I cannot help but laud the bravery of those who seek to escape from such relationships; I hope that my past stance on abuse will speak for me.  Neither do I think that the penalties for abuse are strong enough, nor are the vital resources needed are as established and available as should they be, to help those trying to end abuse.

But, after much thought, I decided to include it here, as it is a demonstrable, though lamentable part of Life, and—as such—could not be readily ignored, and…it does impact most severely the lives of those who are abused.  While I am seeking to provide a rough ‘live’ examination to you, and to all my constant, loyal readers, we all—nevertheless—have a distinct obligation to use our minds and hearts, and souls to report abuse whenever it is seen.  I apologize from my heart if I have offended anyone reading this, and hope you will see my meaning as if pertains to this entry, and this entry alone.

 15) Do you have a running car, a reliable source of transportation?  If yes, place an ‘ X ‘.  If not, place an ‘O .’

16) For every, major credit card you have that is maxed out, place an ‘ O ‘.  For every one

you have—that currently—you have a charged balance less than 35% of your credit limit, place an ‘X ‘.

17) Do you have a savings account? If yes, place an ‘X’.

18) If you have more than $150.00 in savings, place an ‘X’.

19) If you own your own home outright, mark down two, ‘X’s’.

20) If you are able to make mortgage payments, or rent, on time, ‘X’.

21) If you have trouble making these payments, ‘O’.

22) If—this past week—you, or you family has had to miss a major meal owing to finances: ‘O’, for every meal.

23) Do you smoke? ‘O’

24) If you do not smoke: ‘X’.

25) Are you considered overweight ? If yes, then ‘O’; if no, then, ‘X’.

26) If you eat 1-2 servings of fish a week, mark an ‘X’; if not, mark a ‘O’.

27) If you are on prescription medications and take them as ordered, regularly, write in an ‘X’; if you cannot afford them; or forget doses, or just skip them, mark a ‘O’.

28) Do you have health insurance? ‘X’; if not, mark ‘O’.

29) Do you see a Primary or Pain Management physician at least once a month?: ‘X’; if not, mark with a ‘O’.

30) How many very close, caring, and reliable friends do you have? For each friend, mark an ‘X’.

31) If you feel you do not have friends, please write two ‘O’s’.

32) Do you routinely sleep from 6-9 hours every night (you may also want to consider naps ), ‘X’

33) Do you often have trouble sleeping, or sleep less than 6 hours a night, ‘O’.

34) Do you sleep more than 12-14 hours a day? Mark down two ‘O’s’.

35) If you have grandchildren who live locally, can you see them without difficulty, or parental consent? Place an ‘X’ for every yes, ‘O’ for every no.

36) Do you have any religious affiliations, or believe in a ‘higher power’? Put ‘X’ for yes, ‘O’ for no.

37) Do you pray fairly regularly? ‘X’

38) If you pray, do you pray for yourself more, or others more? If yourself, ‘O’; if for others: ‘X’.

39) In any given week, how many times do you tell someone you love them?

      A. fives time a week or daily, five ‘X’s’;

         B. two to four times a week, two’X’s’;

         C. One time a week, ‘X’;

         D. Rarely, if ever, or never, three, ‘O’s’.

40) What is your ‘usual’ pain level?

       A. 7—10, on a ten point scale:  four ‘O’s’;

       B. 5—7+, three ‘O’s.

       C. 3—5, two ‘O’s’

       D. 1—3, one ‘O’.

       E. My pain level is always around ‘2’ or less; is controlled by my medication; or I can bear it. ‘X’.

41) In general, I am happy: ‘X’

42) In general I am sad: ‘O’.

43) I think of death a lot: five ‘O’s’.

Again, my very dearest friends, while we all occasionally contemplate mortality, to think about it constantly warrants immediate intervention, either by self, or by concerned family members; while I included it here, as sort of a general guide to self-feelings, morbid, repetitive thoughts of death, or of potential self-harm, should be treated by a professional Therapist of Psychiatrist at once. Behaviors that might be demonstrated for a family member or a friend to see include, but are not limited to: 1) isolation; 2) verbal expressions; 3) a depression that seems unrelieved, or worsens; 4) nightmare; 5) paradoxical behavior strange to the individual, whether in speaking, dressing, a sudden lack of interest in former interests; 6) inattention to hygiene; 7) too much sleep, and the inability to want to wake up; 8) if on prescription medications, taking them erratically, or too frequently; 9) the abuse of alcohol, and/or other abused substances; 10) secretiveness, or hiding behavior.

Please do not wait until an individual has begun to fully exhibit these behaviors, and above all, please do not—in rage, or lack of patience yell at them, shake them, or simply tell them to “Snap out of it.” And please never be so cruel as to dare them to follow-through on their statements. For if you cannot help that person, except to encourage these negative behaviors, then please, please step aside to allow that individual to get real help, from those who DO care.

In Conclusion

I have—at some length—tried to present to each of you—my very, dearest friends—with a simple, and very generalized “ Wellbeing Assay”, that I hope, in writing down, might hope to better codify your feelings within your current situations.  And while I freely admit that in lacking professional status, it is—at best—a highly subjective, and personalized way of ‘keeping score’, of how you may be, whenever you should happen to take the Quiz, for it can be taken over and over again, at intervals to measure both your progress, and your hopes.

Of course, it is my fondest hope that—as you reckon up each value, and then add the total number of ‘X’s’, and,’O’s’ together, you will, in fact come away with a greater number of ‘X’s’ in hopes to show you that, while some areas in your life may be hardly perfect, yet, you are doing the best you can, which is an admirable task these days, considering your illness(es), your pain, the economy, your health, and your social strengths.

Should your total involve a few more ‘O’s’, than ‘X’s’, then there are a myriad ways (not all included in this assay), where concerned energy, regard, safety and love can result in improvement.

For despite the many, and often seemingly unalterable and overwhelming circumstances in our lives, it has been ever my sincerest desire that you be happy, fulfilled, and…truly blessed.  I wish for you—as always—days of lessened, or of ‘no pain’; quiet, wonderful days surrounded by ones who truly love you; income-sufficient to meet your needs, AND, provide a little extra.  And a natural tiredness at end of day; and nights of restorative, and pain-free sleep, as ever kept safe, and guarded by loving, watchful angels.

Please always know I love you dearly

‘Zahc’/ Charles

'....A Too Typical Weekend...'

‘ A Too Typical Weekend; A New Injury; An Unexpected Kindness From A Neighbor’s Daughter; Pain, And A Tribute To my Dog ‘

04/09/12

To my ever dear, and wonderful friends, and kind, and loyal readers,

I don’t know why I seem to expect something more, something different on the Holidays; perhaps, some bit of new excitement, pulse-racing with anticipation, and much hoped-for delight, perhaps.  Of course, none of those things happen in the imagination fueled by a rejection of utter sameness, and, as always, pin-cushioned in a hundred places by pain that circles like some foreboding formation of vultures, waiting for the prey to die.

So alike are these days, consisting of unending hours, wherein there is a struggle to maintain an inertia of basic needs, such as preparing tasteless suppers; too much coffee; and of always dosing up, my day predicated by cyclonic agonies, that weary, yet prolong the passing of the day.  Friday—for example—is now a blur to me…there was nothing even slightly memorable about it.  I do recall I took an whole sleeping pill, though it did not stop the nightmares, nor the frequent wakening, nor of finding myself—again, sitting out at the kitchen counter, head in hands, in a kind of twilight sleep—waking cold, with the back door open to all and sundry sometime around three AM.

On Saturday, while reaching in an odd, sideways posture to reach around the coffee pot to get the coffee jar, in leaning over, heard a distinct ‘popping’ sound, that meant I had re-fractured, an already multiply fractured rib; oh great….another pain to pile on top of pain (oh yes, my dearest friends, pain can be stacked like that).

Late Sunday, there was a faint knock to the front door; the daughter of my neighbor had brought me a little plate of ham, and mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole; on top of that, was a small pan with a piece of pumpkin pie in it; two small brownies; a cupcake; and a small bowl of Easter-style, Hershey’s kisses.  It was a kind and thoughtful gesture, that—in even thinking of me—struck me as inordinately generous.

And lastly, for this evening, and for others in the past, I will often be sitting at the computer, or else, back out to the kitchen, half-consumed by pain, or, waiting for a couple of pain pills to settle in, and only leave me wuzzle-headed; better than the pain, assuredly.  Before long, I hear the scritching of her claws upon the wooden floor, and Daisy—with what I can only describe as a smile on her face (as I DO believe they can smile !), as she comes up to me to put her head in my lap; she only wants a few minutes of attention, and—if I am able to do so—will slowly lower myself to the floor to ‘play’ with her; she fully KNOWS when Daddy hurts all over, and—at fourteen, now, I imagine that she has more than a few pains of her own.

She really IS my only company; and while I often I could do much better by her, I could not lover her more, and I also think—this too—she knows.

Soon…too soon, perhaps, but the, what else is there?, it will be time to retire to my freshened bed.  And, Daisy will come in to turn-around the requisite three, or four times, hoping—I suppose—to find that one, most comfortable place to lie down on the rug beside my bed; and since her canine conscience is much clearer than mine, I often hear her snoring before I can even drift off.  I want her to relax, and in a ‘doggie R.E.M.’, find plenty of rabbits and squirrels to chase.

For during the night, she protects me, waking to bark, if something, or someone is outside, and near the house.

And so, my very dearest friends, and constant readers, I hope that you and your family or friends enjoyed a singularly pleasant Easter weekend, with music, joy, games, and toys; and LOTS of wonderful, delicious food (and, don’t forget the chocolate bunnies !).

I wish you happiness, a lack of pain, and a solid, restful sleep!

Please always know I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’/Charles

' A Jar Of Pickles '

‘  A Jar Of Pickles  ‘

04/07/12

To my ever dearest, kind, supportive friends, and loyal readers, I thank you for a friendship that has come to mean so much to me; it is a thing I value, and truly treasure; in addition, I am ever grateful for your readership, and for your thoughtful comments; for they remind me just how wonderful you are, and how wonderfully accepting of me you have been.

In knowing you, and reading your diary entries, and treads, and ‘hugs’, I’ve found a genuine privilege, and the pleasure of a gladdened heart; I most willingly credit you with my transformation from idle loneliness, to feeling as if I might have some purpose after all.  And that also makes glad my heart.

And should I prove in some small way to be of help or interest to you, dearest friends—instead of a continued rant about my pain, or of my circumstance, or of the thousand irritations that these days seems to diminish me—in lack of self-aggrandizement and complaining, I find in your special friendship an anodyne to pain, and a greater understanding that causes me to treasure our similarities and differences, and makes so crystal clear your added meaning to my life, and better appreciation of your beautiful uniqueness.  And for all those things, and more, I shall be as ever grateful to you.  I wanted you to know that.

Some twenty years ago, more or less (as memory often is an irresponsible, and unreliable liar, in choosing what truths it wishes to recall and follow), while still my health was good, I had moved back home, then stayed to try to care for my elderly, and increasingly ill father and mother, my schedule was often full, with working full time nights, and running errands for my folks in the morning, after work.

I would do the grocery shopping then, on my way home from work.

On one occasion, I stopped at a grocery store on my way home; and after having worked the night before, was naturally tired, and wanting nothing more than to discharge my errands, and then get home as quickly as I could, in hopes of finding no elapsed calamity had occurred meanwhile, and so I could have a quick bite of breakfast with my mom and dad, and then hit the bed as soon as I could.

For those of you who have ever had to work at night ( and, try to sleep during the day), it is in direct conflict to a zillion years of evolution, as—perhaps—9/10ths of the globe snooze the night away, while being up and functioning during the day is taken, quite for granted as the ‘norm’.  Our bodies simply are not used to working a ‘night shift’, and so, trying to sleep days, when all the world seemed to be awake, moving, and making LOTS of noise, daytime sleep becomes as precious as spun gold. And since I was usually on my feet for six of the required eight hours, I was ALWAYS tired, and, frequently just exhausted, and whenever I had to ‘stay up’ to run errands, I wanted them done and over as quickly as possible, before I fell asleep at the steering wheel of my car.

When usually I had groceries to get, it was from a list, pretty-much adhered to, and so looking neither to the right, nor to the left of me, I would try to breeze-through the store as if on roller skates, particularly as an hour spent at the store, was a potential hour less sleep available to me.

As was usual at that time of morning, and—really, too often an occurrence at stores during the day—there would—out of maybe twenty-five registers, be only two open: one for those with over-ladened carts, who stretched behind out in a line like coal cars, into the man aisle, and pushed by understandably sullen customers, and one ‘express aisle’, wide-advertised with admonitions of ‘ten items, or less’, that I wondered if in presenting twelve items, would warrant the death penalty ?  Were the managers armed?

Oh well…on this particular day, it happened that I had, maybe, eight items in my cart, and I most gladly steered-around all the other shoppers to race to the express line.

But somehow, there was a problem, a quiet commotion, something serious that ground all commerce to a halt; I scarcely gave it notice as I put my trophies on a conveyor belt that had ceased to function.  And waited.  And waited.  The problem seemed so inconsequential to have left me in a state of stalemate with the cashier.

On the conveyor belt ahead of me was a single, large jar of pickles, and the customer, a tiny lady in perhaps her late eighties trying to proffer to the cashier a small and crumpled coupon.  The bright eyes of that older woman, and her faint, apologetic smile while not quite knowing what the commotion was about as she was hard of hearing, began to fade as the cashier explained and explained to her that the coupon—for a goodly amount off—was for the purchase of three jars of pickles….not one.

I could not help but see—somehow—the light go out of her as she gently put the jar of pickles back on the conveyor belt, and, slowly began to limp away.  I watched all this.  Could her simple happiness depend upon a stupid coupon being able to afford a simple treat? How often in life are we all similarly crushed when even little, minor dreams are taken from us and destroyed?

Without thinking, I told the cashier to get the lady back, and to put the pickles on my tab; for God’s sake, they could not have cost more than three dollars.  “But you don’t have to do that, sir,’ the cashier, who was maybe all of eighteen said, “Its not necessary.”

I saw that single jar of pickles, and the distance from it to an old lady’s happiness.  “Its alright”, I told the cashier as she gave the lady her pickles, “I want to do it, and I think it very necessary.”  The cashier shook her head as if in disbelieve, or else that I had lost my marbles; but I hardly cared.  What I was watching was that older lady, who—in some confusion—smiled at me (and yes…that tiny radiance was there!), and, in taking the jar from the cashier, slowly carried it out of the store, cradling it in both arms.

And these twenty-some-odd years later, what I can still recall are her crinkled, fading eyes, and the uncertain, hesitant, but miraculous return of her small, but happy smile.  After a lifetime of dreams fulfilled, and—more often—dreams that failed, that morning, her hopes were pinned on a simple jar of pickles.

As Humans in an indifferent world, while we do on brief occasion experience the ethereal, and the ecstatic in our hopes and expectations, too often we—too—well know when dreams are lost, or pushed aside; to have our even tiny hopes destroyed; our hopes ground into powder often by an idiot, whose only power is to say, “NO”, and who do so only because they can.  Except for the occasional fantasy that we entertain, I think that—by and large—our true hearts and souls are made content by that which is more reasonable, which should be more easily attained, except for life’s real, and drummed-up demands.  And while it has become a catch phrase about ‘random acts of kindness’, what about ( instead), my dearest, sweet and loving friends, ‘random acts of Altruism’, done without thought of thanks; or expectations of repayment; or of seeking self-appointed sainthood?   For ‘good’ that’s done for ‘good’, rather than for ‘Self’?  In this case, is full-derived the term: selfishness.

That long ago, jar of pickles did not confirm upon me any moral superiority, but, later—though—it did allow my soul to rest more easily in itself.  And, you know, dear friends, I may have even slept a little better that day…who knows?

My very dear, and dearest friends, and ever constant, loyal readers, I wish for you a long, and pleasant weekend (and more!) of much-lessened, or of ‘no pain’; compassionate in your dealings with others; full-surrounded by those you most love, who truly love and care for you;  happy, balmy days and afternoons free from want or care; quiet, and lazy afternoons free of worry; and oh…dear friends, of untroubled nights, of solid, blissful sleep, kept ever safe, and comfortable by, “flights of angels to sing thee to thy rest!”

Please always know I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’/Charles

' Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night...'

‘ Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night Be Torn Asunder With Hellish Dreams, Instead?  ‘

04/05/12

To my very, dearest, and sweet friends, and both kind, and constant, ever-loyal readers, I first want to speak to you of my complete thanks, and gratitude for your befriending me, and…abiding with me, even when my complaints of wracking pain, or nerves, or want have doubtless become too tedious; for you have great pain yourselves, or mental heartache, or despair, or of financial want equally as oppressive

Yet, in full demonstrating your patience, love, and support of me; and, in reading my diary posts with some regularity, how much you elevate my heart.  And it is to you, my dear, dear friends I ever hope to be a willing ear, to be ever ‘there’ for you when you might need me most.

While I will not bore you with shadowy details, as the recollection of horrid dreams was of possible interest, only to those—in ancient times—who visited the ‘ Oracle Of Delphi ‘, to be given a shouting, screaming, weeping session of hallucinatory dream interpretation as it might apply to future successes in battle, or in life.  And thus, emulating Cassandra’s gift of foresight, ‘dream-reading’ is highly speculative, very subject-influenced, and now often, the province of dream dictionaries, or of two-bit fortune tellers.

Plus, as an added bit of trivia, some time ago, it was discovered that the river that ran beneath the ‘Oracle’ contained a natural hallucinogen, which I am sure made for some very, interesting prognostications; yet, the ‘Oracle’ was well-known, and feared; its garbled readings were surprisingly correct.  But they were to a most subjective audience who could interpret their meanings any way they secretly wanted, and that—alone—skewed the Oracle’s correct predictions of the future.

Today we are still very much influenced in our regards to dreams from the work of Sigmund Freud…that, the subconscious is the source of dreams, usually recapitulating the frustrations, desires, needs, and problems of the day, in a sort of metaphoric ‘short hand’, so that they could be worked upon for resolution by the conscious mind while at rest.

But there are, my dearest friends, so many kinds of dreams, so that they occupy different subsets within a dreaming whole.  And if the source of all these nocturnal thoughts is the primitive brain, it is now overwhelmed by other concerns than securing food; finding a mate; reproduction; safety; and the successes of the hunt.  Now, in a broader sense, new subconscious ‘anxieties’ have been thrown into the game.  Such modern issues as the societal consideration of illness; the need for medication; the lack of funds; the attempts to find, and keep a job, no matter how we may personally loath it; the worries of living a sub-par life on current Entitlements; trying to keep the house out of foreclosure; keeping the family car wheezing along; the fears of growing crime, and the ‘Fate Of Nations’. While most may find a root in more primitive fear, there is yet more than enough to be the wellspring of utterly hellish nightmare, which does not so much ‘problem solve’, but rather finds its course in disrupted, broken sleep, headaches, middle-of-the-night continued worries of the day, which are worries every day.   And, frankly, all the subconscious can do is throw shit at it.  And make one tired and exhausted all the next day.

While I have addresses the subject of ‘Nightmare’ in other posts, last night, was one of unalloyed horror, as nightmare cascaded into nightmare, like some retrospective of the works of Stephen King, and others.  Dreams that disturbed, destroyed any chance of rest I might have had, gave me a rollicking headache somewhere around 1:30 AM; and in a state of such shallow sleep, with bathrooms calls thrown in, I feel—this morning—as if I had stayed awake the entire night, underscoring agonies of pain, even though I took extra pain medication, AND, and an extra sleeping pill.

Whether this tendency to nightmare is abetted by my illnesses, my singular loneliness, my continual financial problems, my medications (a likely suspect, owing to their side-effects, a near-empty pantry (and all, so early in the month!), I do not need my subconscious to ‘nail bite’ me into being often—really—too tired and mind-fogged with despair to even try to problem-solve during the day.  I fully know that the difficulties of life will still there upon the morrow.

Sometimes, even a major life-altering problem can be solved, if dealt with in small, discrete, and solvable steps.  Some problems know no solution, while others quite depend upon the so-so, transient, unreliable intervention, and assistance by others, or outside agencies who may not simply give a damn about your needs and problems. And, to having to rely on these most unreliable things is the surest path to folly and frustration.

My previous day had not been remarkable by any immediate disaster, yet those accumulated ‘disasters’ remain. There was no parting of golden clouds, while angels descended carrying wads of cash.  And yet my often and unutterable pain, depression, agoraphobia, and other ‘woes’ must somehow cloud my nighttime sleep.

And when—at last—I locked the doors for the night, left lights on in the house, whistled for my dear Daisy to come into my bedroom to curl-up upon the rug next to my bed, and having medicated for the night, and having had a blissful shower, and clean, crisp linens, and a fragrant room, I slipped into bed, tired, and wanting only to sleep.

After having said my jumbled prayers, closed my eyes to let my body relax as much as it could, so I could hopefully drift off—and with unbroken sleep—awake today with some much-needed sense of recuperation and allowing mind, body, and soul to seek its rest.

Instead, my needed sleep was broken into a hundred pieces by nightmare that panicked, unsettled, and disturbed.

And no…one nightmare did not seem enough, for they assailed me all through that restless night.  Each one was a tortured mix of people, events, and monsters.  And this is almost every night, so that I need some kind of nap in the afternoon—which seems—somehow—bereft of horrors, in order for me to halfway function the rest of the day.

Perhaps, my dear, dear friends, and gentle readers, that you might kindly comment if you have the same trouble; and—if so—what effective steps were you able to take to rid yourself of unending and terrible nightmare.

I really want—and need—to sleep.  The occasional ‘happy’ dream would be more than welcome.

Meanwhile, please allow me to wish for you days of lessened, or of ‘no pain’; freedom from want or care; surrounded by those who truly, truly love you, and care for you; quiet afternoons that bring you satisfaction, and—yes—delight, because you well-deserve it; and nights…oh, soft and gentle nights of blissful, and restorative sleep, kept in the care of blessed angels.

And, please always know, I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’

' Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night....'

‘ Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night Be Torn Asunder With Hellish Dreams, Instead?  ‘

04/05/12

To my very, dearest, and sweet friends, and both kind, and constant, ever-loyal readers, I first want to speak to you of my complete thanks, and gratitude for your befriending me, and…abiding with me, even when my complaints of wracking pain, or nerves, or want have doubtless become too tedious; for you have great pain yourselves, or mental heartache, or despair, or of financial want equally as oppressive

Yet, in full demonstrating your patience, love, and support of me; and, in reading my diary posts with some regularity, how much you elevate my heart.  And it is to you, my dear, dear friends I ever hope to be a willing ear, to be ever ‘there’ for you when you might need me most.

While I will not bore you with shadowy details, as the recollection of horrid dreams was of possible interest, only to those—in ancient times—who visited the ‘ Oracle Of Delphi ‘, to be given a shouting, screaming, weeping session of hallucinatory dream interpretation as it might apply to future successes in battle, or in life.  And thus, emulating Cassandra’s gift of foresight, ‘dream-reading’ is highly speculative, very subject-influenced, and now often, the province of dream dictionaries, or of two-bit fortune tellers.

Plus, as an added bit of trivia, some time ago, it was discovered that the river that ran beneath the ‘Oracle’ contained a natural hallucinogen, which I am sure made for some very, interesting prognostications; yet, the ‘Oracle’ was well-known, and feared; its garbled readings were surprisingly correct.  But they were to a most subjective audience who could interpret their meanings any way they secretly wanted, and that—alone—skewed the Oracle’s correct predictions of the future.

Today we are still very much influenced in our regards to dreams from the work of Sigmund Freud…that, the subconscious is the source of dreams, usually recapitulating the frustrations, desires, needs, and problems of the day, in a sort of metaphoric ‘short hand’, so that they could be worked upon for resolution by the conscious mind while at rest.

But there are, my dearest friends, so many kinds of dreams, so that they occupy different subsets within a dreaming whole.  And if the source of all these nocturnal thoughts is the primitive brain, it is now overwhelmed by other concerns than securing food; finding a mate; reproduction; safety; and the successes of the hunt.  Now, in a broader sense, new subconscious ‘anxieties’ have been thrown into the game.  Such modern issues as the societal consideration of illness; the need for medication; the lack of funds; the attempts to find, and keep a job, no matter how we may personally loath it; the worries of living a sub-par life on current Entitlements; trying to keep the house out of foreclosure; keeping the family car wheezing along; the fears of growing crime, and the ‘Fate Of Nations’. While most may find a root in more primitive fear, there is yet more than enough to be the wellspring of utterly hellish nightmare, which does not so much ‘problem solve’, but rather finds its course in disrupted, broken sleep, headaches, middle-of-the-night continued worries of the day, which are worries every day.   And, frankly, all the subconscious can do is throw shit at it.  And make one tired and exhausted all the next day.

While I have addresses the subject of ‘Nightmare’ in other posts, last night, was one of unalloyed horror, as nightmare cascaded into nightmare, like some retrospective of the works of Stephen King, and others.  Dreams that disturbed, destroyed any chance of rest I might have had, gave me a rollicking headache somewhere around 1:30 AM; and in a state of such shallow sleep, with bathrooms calls thrown in, I feel—this morning—as if I had stayed awake the entire night, underscoring agonies of pain, even though I took extra pain medication, AND, and an extra sleeping pill.

Whether this tendency to nightmare is abetted by my illnesses, my singular loneliness, my continual financial problems, my medications (a likely suspect, owing to their side-effects, a near-empty pantry (and all, so early in the month!), I do not need my subconscious to ‘nail bite’ me into being often—really—too tired and mind-fogged with despair to even try to problem-solve during the day.  I fully know that the difficulties of life will still there upon the morrow.

Sometimes, even a major life-altering problem can be solved, if dealt with in small, discrete, and solvable steps.  Some problems know no solution, while others quite depend upon the so-so, transient, unreliable intervention, and assistance by others, or outside agencies who may not simply give a damn about your needs and problems. And, to having to rely on these most unreliable things is the surest path to folly and frustration.

My previous day had not been remarkable by any immediate disaster, yet those accumulated ‘disasters’ remain. There was no parting of golden clouds, while angels descended carrying wads of cash.  And yet my often and unutterable pain, depression, agoraphobia, and other ‘woes’ must somehow cloud my nighttime sleep.

And when—at last—I locked the doors for the night, left lights on in the house, whistled for my dear Daisy to come into my bedroom to curl-up upon the rug next to my bed, and having medicated for the night, and having had a blissful shower, and clean, crisp linens, and a fragrant room, I slipped into bed, tired, and wanting only to sleep.

After having said my jumbled prayers, closed my eyes to let my body relax as much as it could, so I could hopefully drift off—and with unbroken sleep—awake today with some much-needed sense of recuperation and allowing mind, body, and soul to seek its rest.

Instead, my needed sleep was broken into a hundred pieces by nightmare that panicked, unsettled, and disturbed.

And no…one nightmare did not seem enough, for they assailed me all through that restless night.  Each one was a tortured mix of people, events, and monsters.  And this is almost every night, so that I need some kind of nap in the afternoon—which seems—somehow—bereft of horrors, in order for me to halfway function the rest of the day.

Perhaps, my dear, dear friends, and gentle readers, that you might kindly comment if you have the same trouble; and—if so—what effective steps were you able to take to rid yourself of unending and terrible nightmare.

I really want—and need—to sleep.  The occasional ‘happy’ dream would be more than welcome.

Meanwhile, please allow me to wish for you days of lessened, or of ‘no pain’; freedom from want or care; surrounded by those who truly, truly love you, and care for you; quiet afternoons that bring you satisfaction, and—yes—delight, because you well-deserve it; and nights…oh, soft and gentle nights of blissful, and restorative sleep, kept in the care of blessed angels.

And, please always know, I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’

' What'ere The Errant Mind Regrets, The Heart Must Grieve '

‘ What’ere The Errant Mind Regrets, The Heart Must Grieve ‘

To my dearest friend, ‘Strenuba ‘

04/03/12

I

What’ere the errant mind regrets, the heart must grieve

until by weight of care, is full deceived

by half-remembered lies that are ignored, or, scarce believed;

so that the ‘sundered soul cries out—oh God !--for it to leave.

II

When the pleasant shore of all we love is crumbled by the agony of storm-tossed pain

When lashed by thun’drous waves again, again.

And thus a blinded mind, and sorrowed heart in vain

can find no safer ground, when—midst mighty roils of thunder, crash—and no safe havens remain.

III

How quick, the ‘cummulated years pass away !,

The dreams of a youthful happiness cannot be found within a nightmare’s grave that’s visited by night, ignored by day

 as too often, base transient needs betray:

the needs for food and shelter hold more important sway.

IV

And yet, too many hours of dread remorse are seen;

So that the once-fair visage, now lined and mean

is rendered by despair a thing obscene.

 Could pitied tears wash as thorough, and as clean ?

V

It is a hellish, living death to death to death that has no end.

Oh! Would flights of Angels, sent by some kinder God descend

 to offer some rarer comfort, to loose a feebled tongue some while to send

to you, ‘Strenuba’, my constancy, my deep regard, my love, my ever, dearest friend.

End