Talking Out Loud: Feeling Sorry For Myself

My throat is scratchy, every time I swallow it’s like a science experiment. I feel cold even though I am under three blankets. Oh wait, I shouldn’t be surprised, we’re back from our short vacation in the sun.

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We are anticipating a snowstorm with wind and ice and I’m sure the clouds can just feel me smoldering with anger and resentment, like a fire just beginning to spread quickly.

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The Universe can feel that I don’t want to live here anymore, the Winters are too tough for my aches and pain, Fibromyalgia has never been my friend but it is becoming my worst enemy.

I hate having to confirm a lunch date with my best friend in the morning although she totally understands.  Will I be okay for getting up and out of bed? Can I dress myself and drive my car and meet her over salads sipping strong, strong coffee? I have NO energy and NO short-term memory. That is excruciatingly embarrassing to me, that is the worst part.

I will know that only tomorrow morning and even that is iffy. I can deal with this chronic pain disease much more easily in the Spring, Summer, even Fall but Winter? Oh, Winter is the devil of all evil, to me. He’s that bratty, bad boy, the one every grade school had who tried to make other kids’ lives unbearable, the bad boy brat that succeeded in torturing a grade.

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Way back, when I was a child, we never had a “No Bullying Allowed” rule. We just had the town bully and everyone knew who he was. I can picture his face so easily in my mind as he grabbed my winter hat and threw it around the bus to taunt me.

Now, we are all grown-up, the bullies, the kids, those of us who care for our grown-up children and parents and dogs. We face problems every single day. The stress and tension are finally catching up with me.

I don’t smile much anymore. It’s tough enough to get out of my warm, comfortable bed with my dog lying beside me. Sometimes, I choose not to get out of bed. I’m okay with that.

Please, I don’t need platitudes or well wishes, I just need circumstances to change. I need a sign, I’ve been patient. Until now.

Yes, I will ask the Angels for help.

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I will ask anyone for help. But, so far, nothing has worked. I’m so very tired. I want to curl up in my bed until I see that it is Spring. Things will change in the Spring, for the better. We will make it change, not now, not during the bleak, gray darkness of Winter.

The new us, starts in the Spring, 2015.

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Too Much Death In The Air

I haven’t written. I know. I’m down. Way down. I admit it. The scent of death lurking in the air. Gail, John’s wife is dead. John has an inoperable brain tumor, everyone wishes he would die, especially him. He only has days to live, Gail died yesterday. These people were like part of my family. They loved our dog, once they had their own dog. It brought back memories for them. Sweet memories.

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Waiting. In tears, or on the verge of, always. Like now, all the time. Writing it down doesn’t make it easier or harder, there is no solution. Nothing can resolve this miserable situation, not a funeral, not two funerals.

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Only, if they were buried together, if he died too, in the next two days, then, I could somehow see something positive because they were meant to be together always, married together, buried together. Everyone would feel better. When you tell a terminally ill brain tumor patient that his wife has passed and he says “Thank God” what does that mean?

Her suffering was more important to him than his own. I can’t seem to get over this very personal story, this couple, extended family, invited to every birthday party of my children, every summer barbecue for years.

When my father was alive they were my parents’ best friends, very best friends. When my dad died, they “adopted” my mother, were so wonderful to her, every day. When the wife coveted a certain kind of brownie I would buy it for because she loved nothing more than chocolate, except her husband, always her husband.

Somewhere, this must be bringing up my father’s funeral inside me, it has to be, I am sobbing in that way, down deep place that there is no control over. Of course it would bring up his death. I am really slow. My mother, who would never acknowledge this about herself has lost her two closest friends, while she may not relate this to her husband’s death, deep down she will feel it unconsciously.

I feel helpless and I acknowledge I am helpless. I am oversensitive and needy. I ask friends for reassurance, while direct, is not necessary. Because once asked, does it really mean the same thing? I regret asking now.

Taking a short break from social media where some people are cruel with their words, there is no room in my life for cruelty of any kind.  I want to be moving and doing and yet, I remain huddled in bed. Last night I crashed at 8:30 pm and I am still in bed at 11:00 am with no motivation to move.

Everyone wants them to be buried together at the same time. It would give the story some meaning, a tiny bit of meaning.

I cry, I dry my eyes, I cry again.

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The Prayer

 

When it is my time, place on my grave, only heart shaped rocks or stones

of varying hues.

There is no need for darkness or brown shapeless objects,

celebrate me with your memories of love.

I want to be remembered with your feelings of joy for what we did have, not for what we won’t have in the future.

Nobody stands a chance with Time, it controls us, every single one of us.

We have no power for when we leave this Earth.

However, you know I truly believe our Spirits, our Souls, live on and that

Love Never Dies.

Try to believe that for me.

For I will never stop loving you, my loves.

How could I possibly stop?

I love you even more than always and forever, but you know that, right?

I’m a child, a sister, a wife, a mother.

Mother’s don’t stop loving their children for a split second,

we just learn to adjust to your leaving.

We never leave you, in Life and in Death.

You are in our Lives, our Hearts, Forever.

You may not see us, though you can if you want to, but we are always there.

Open your heart and mind, listen.

Love Does Not Die.

Haiku Horizons, Clear

 

Clear, sun-speckled sky

Angels fluttering like song

Wrapping me with love.

 

* forgive the lack of an image but nobody at Zemanta or any images will help me and I have been trying for a week. Thank you for understanding.

 

Haiku Horizons, Content

Content life, morning

Coffee, swirling milk angels

Being One with Now.

 

 

 

 

 

In love with food, grace

bellies, content, sugar bombs

lick my lips, linger.

 

 

 

 

Dog lies next to me

Love (Photo credit: Noël Zia Lee)

her paw resting, yawns, content

Leaning on my leg.

 

In The Spirit Of Angels

Water Angel (Photo credit: Hance Gesell)

I Do believe in Angels and Spirits from Beyond. I DO get messages from my dad who has passed. I fully believe in this. It comforts me. My dad’s spirit fuels me. LOVE DOES NOT DIE. Believe in what you want, just don’t disrespect what I believe in.

I know you don’t believe in the things that I believe and I’m not arguing that you should convert. But, at least give me the courtesy of your respect to believe in what I believe without the shared glances and the roll of the eyes. I have never done that to you, not once.

I’m fine with agreeing to disagree but I have seen the judgment and the crazy swirl of the finger pointed behind my back and that I will not allow. I refuse to be disrespected in any way. Got that? Good. I suggest you remember it.

No one has the right to judge my belief systems. If you don’t want to believe in anything that is your personal choice but to have influenced the children with your strong, angry voice I find disconcerting, at the very least.

I  smiled privately at my two signs (heart and wings, pc) that I knew so well but of course I wouldn’t share that with you, I didn’t need to and I certainly don’t want you to make fun of me. You saw the license plate for yourself twice or three times by yourself. Were you just humoring me or was that just a coincidence too?

Vaffa Day – 8 settembre 2007 (Photo credit: ! . © Angela Lobefaro . !)

All that is important to me is that I believe and that what I believe in comforts me, it is the unwavering truth. Signs from my dad, from the deceased is comforting, incredibly comforting and while I know he cannot change things in my life, I know he his with me and loves me and will always support me. Always.

What could be more important than that?

I don’t care what you or they believe in but you won’t find me standing in judgment and voicing my own opinions.

Believe in what you like, take comfort in anything, but do not, ever, disrespect me AGAIN.

I have a voice. I have a STRONG voice,  I am using it. Now and forever.

Sending Love Into The Universe

 

I have just changed my life. It is Monday and I have just sent off a piece of the new me, courageous, CONFIDENT, CHANGE MY LIFE – ME into the universe, the big, bright blue sky.

 

Angel-wings (Photo credit: johnb/Derbys/UK.)

 

Yes, I’m taking a chance at doing something different. At least, I am trying. I’m sending this with a hug and a wish out to the atmosphere, with the Spirits that I believe in, with my Angels and my Dad to help me when he can “there is only so much he can do. His hands are tied.” I don’t doubt that for a second, I trust you implicitly. Just so you know. I love to imagine that you are not in pain anymore and that I can almost hear you laugh, and I can practically stroke your soft, sweet face, I would smell the shaving cologne as strong as you used to splash on your neck.” The perfume factory.”

Angel (Photo credit: Stephie189)

I’m trying, to rev up, like the motors of the airplanes you used to love, worship. The rumbling has started within me. For the first time I am trying for lift-off instead of being grounded forever. I too, need a change. I need to get out of the shadows and into the sunlight and through my chronic pain. I can do that.

I know I come across as pure emotion but as you know, deep down inside me, I am very, very strong, I will come through. I can handle what the world gives me, I should certainly be able to handle change, a new direction, movement, and climbing out of my comfort zone. I will do it with Faith and Spirit on my side.

Let it begin. I’m Ready.

 

 

 

Miley Cyrus, The Climb

 

 

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Restless Spirit I (Photo credit: Bill Liao)

I know if you could help me in any way, you would. There is no doubt in my mind, not a second’s hesitation that your “hands are tied.” Did you think I ever doubted that? No, not once. I know you would move the stars and the earth and the moon and the seas to help make sense of my life, to our life, to guide us on an easy path.

But, that’s not your job, I understand, really I do. You sent me signs and I was so grateful: a bird, our numbers, songs: My Immortal,by Evanescence, Dance With My Father Again, by Luther Vandross.

You knew I was there at the hospital everyday, you and I were the ones that counted. She remembers the day before you died but you did that on purpose, you wanted to see me laughing at you sticking out your tongue, how we heard over the loudspeaker that my car was about to be towed.

I miss you, Daddy, but I know you are with me.

I believe.

 

/photo credit Bill Liao

Whoever Said “Facebook Friends Aren’t Real” Is One Big, Stupid Idiot.

An American version of a fruitcake which contains both fruit and nuts. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The holiday season is winding down and I’ve read blogs about fruitcake, go ahead, start the jokes… Pass them around like some people did (not me, kids) like a joint or bottle of beer when they were in college. I’ve heard it all, all the silly jokes how nobody likes fruitcake, and everything is artificial, ad nauseam.  My father, when he was alive, ate fruitcake joyfully and loved it; he passed that gene on to me.

I love fruitcake, I honestly do. For years I begged people if they had received fruitcake as gifts NOT to throw them out because I would happily take it off their snobby shoulders. Funny, in all that time, nobody offered me their unwanted fruitcake. Nobody, until recently, one of my Facebook Friends, Sarita, saw me talking about fruitcake and out of nowhere she offered to send me a mini fruitcake that was baking in her oven.

Sarita, is one of my group of Facebook Friends that share a common and unyielding illness. We all seem to have some sort of chronic pain disease, in my case, Fibromyalgia. Believe me, it is not limited to Fibromyalgia (Fibromyalgia generally doesn’t work alone) but comes with many other ailments. I also have an auto-immune disease, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis and some of my friends share that as well. Others have different, chronic pain but we are connected, perhaps not in person since we live in different places but definitely in our hearts.

When I told my (adult) children that my friend on Facebook was sending me a mini-fruitcake across the country they looked at me with those critical eyes, and the “what are you crazy” stare? “Mom, they said slowly in single syllables, you. don’t. even. know. her. she. could. be. send.ing. you. An.thrax.” I had never heard a more ridiculous thing in my life. Of course I knew her, I have known her for years, we’re friends, we are here for each other, we support each other.  The fact that Sarita was a “stranger” NEVER ONCE crossed my mind because Sarita was my friend and I was hers.

“So, my observant 19-year-old daughter said,  you wouldn’t mind if I was corresponding with some random man on the internet and he baked me some cookies and sent them to me and I wanted to eat them? Well, now that was indeed different, I said. I have talked to Sarita on the phone several times, we’ve been in touch with each other for years and I am not 19 and Sarita is certainly not some stranger. However, my daughter was right, I would not feel comfortable with her taking candy from strangers but I hardly see it as the same situation.

Facebook Friends for those of us with common limitations are not only useful to us but sometimes life-saving, Who knows better what it feels like to be in a Fibro Flare than another Fibro patient? I don’t like to complain to my family or my friends at home because frankly, they just don’t get it. How could they? They don’t have the illness. I’m not saying they lack empathy (most lack it a few don’t) but my Facebook Friends understand what I feel, completely every single day.

To them, I say THANK YOU, for the love and support and the ongoing kindness. We are all here for each other and that means a lot. I need to take a break now, for some more fruit cake and with it some pumpkin bread as well. What did you say about my Facebook Friends? Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s okay, we are all wrong sometimes……May God or Spirit or Angels Bless these special people in my Life. They are in my life for a reason.

All That Is Good: Roland Comtois

Angel Cloud – HDR (Photo credit: Free HDR Photos – http://www.freestock.ca)

I don’t idolize “celebrities” or “actors” like some people do, I need to know a person inside and out before I hand over my heart. However, there is one man who I absolutely adore and I have met him personally several times. His name is Roland Comtois, he is a Medium, receiving messages from the other side (those who have passed away) and giving them to those who have lost a loved one. I DON’T work for Roland nor do I sell his books or get a percentage of anything he sells. I just want you to know that I believe in him so much and that he is such an amazingly GOOD PERSON that I wanted to share his name with you.

He rarely does private meetings anymore but he so kind and gentle with a voice that sounds like angels playing their harps, like laughter in the heavens, like what pure honesty would sound like. I have never doubted him for a minute, except the first time I ever went to a gathering at Helen’s house (Starvisions) and he picked up on that and said out loud that I was there “checking him out.” So true.

Roland Comtois. He is a medium, with a heart and a spirit so open that I imagine dozens of white doves fly from his heart and pass his messages from those who have passed to those who are living. I was lucky enough to get two of those purple papers and Roland knew my name even though there were no name tags nor was he told in advance who was coming. He stood over me, with his soft, gentle eyes and addressed me, gave me a message from my father who had passed, and I burst into tears with joy and peace and love. I am the lucky recipient of two Purple Papers and I was the conduit for another woman in the audience.

His message is sweet and simple, we don’t NEED a medium to get messages from our loved ones, which I have always known. I do get messages on my own and have for years. But, for those that don’t, keep your heart open, ask for messages from your angels, from God, from the person you miss, directly, and be open to any sign that may come. Be patient and open and most of all, believe in yourself. The sign will may not be blatant like a photo or a picture, mine come in initials and numbers or music and birds. My first message, the most important one, came in the form of a luggage tag. Yes, it’s true.

Be aware of your surroundings and be open to love. I consider it an absolute privilege and honor to have met Roland in person. Thank you, world.

Special thanks to http://www.freestock.ca