The Big Guy and I have a new saying, "RSP ALERT!"
RSP= Random Shooting Pains
He's been experiencing them as he ripens on the vine of life, or ...well, gets older. From time to time, we'll be minding our own business folding laundry or opening mail and for no apparent reason a sensation that is similar to getting speared with an ice pick somewhere on the body will happen. Then, as quickly as the pain arrives, it leaves. Typically lasting for no more than 30 seconds, at its worst.
I've been experiencing them for as long as I recall breathing and I believe we all have, to some degree. These human bodies of ours need a great deal of maintenance, and I've been a crazy rodeo rider all the way to flinging myself off cliffs with two fiberglass sticks strapped to my feet. I think they're called skis.
I've had an active life. Hiking, boating, baby making, and more.
There I am with two of my teenagers. Way back when. I remember that day, Fourth of July 2007. I wasn't feeling so good, as I recall it. I should have embraced that kind of "not feeling good" a bit more.
And, all my life I've had more than my fair share of illness; weirdness that medical science has had a difficult time explaining. If I had some rare blood type or even a mixed heritage in ancestry, that might account for some of the strange rashes caused by food allergies or extra teeth, among other things. For instance, I have a supernumerary nipple that I thought was a weird mole under my right breast. If we were living in the dark ages I'd be shunned as a witch, burned or stoned for certain. We all know I'm a kitchen witch, and I light candles while chanting to a number of hidden realms, but that's not my point.
My point is a rare condition called Allodynia. Essentially it's a response from the body and brain that says, "OMG! Why am I on fire?" when touched. Over and over. It's excruciating, and I've learned to live with it. It tends to be most extraordinary on my back, thus random hugs are a no-no. I quit shaving my legs a long time ago. Bonus points for my European hubby. He doesn't care.
That picture was on my 50th Birthday. Seven years ago. We went home to Denmark, and I think that was the last time I felt ...amazing? At least on a birthday.
Sigh.
Again, there is a sense of remorse for not embracing that sense of "amazing".
When I was diagnosed with Eppstein-Barr in my 30's, that illness escalated into such a mountain of other illnesses that my doctor kept a separate file and I agreed to be a pin cushion for the Mayo Clinic at one point in exchange for better health care, as my insurance was limited.
They kept "trying" to diagnose my particular brand of illness.
Some gentle readers here may remember the popular television series "House" from the early 2000's. There was a saying that became popular at the time, "It's not Lupus" -- unless, of course, it was. From "know your meme (dot) com"
The phrase was coined when the younger doctors were suggesting a case of lupus, when they couldn't figure out what was wrong with the patient. Because lupus usually takes several years to be diagnosed, Dr. House usually says "It's not lupus." or "It's never lupus."
I cannot tell you how many times I was tested for lupus.
Chrones. Lyme. Psoriatic Arthritis. Multiple Sclerosis. Sjogren's. Morgellons. Rheumatoid Arthritis.
Myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS) is what they've formally diagnosed me with, accompanied by "Allodynia".
I tell myself that I have "All or didn't ya?" Because it makes me laugh, while helping me to remember the names of things. Like my dog. For those of us who have children, do you ever find yourself calling your dog one of your kid's names instead of the name of the dog?
No?
I do.
Which brings me to the next point: Brain Fog.
I often wonder if I'd be better at running the world than the current leaders of the planet, because if I didn't have this Fog in my Head, I would be your fearless leader. Not that I'm smarter than most people, I'm just clever. But I lack the ability to recall much of anything without a great deal of effort these days. My short-term memory has suffered, because (now brace yourselves) I'm not just a former pin cushion for the Mayo Clinic, but I have been diagnosed with ADHD, complex PTSD and I'm an HSP. How the hell did I remember entire scripts when I was acting?
How did I run restaurants? Or show up for my family? HOW was I such a kick ass broker once upon a time?
Welcome to the pretzel machine.
What all of this means is that I've reached the tender age of 57 with most of my equanimity intact and while I won't pretend I'm not something of an optimistic misanthrope, I do find myself becoming slower these days and people are annoying, as well as exhausting to be around. That's a new thing for me.
Honestly, I did not expect this to happen.
People would often point at me (in the past) and say, "You need the Taj Mahal built in a day? Call Sarah..."
I was on every committee and created a few of my own. Let's not forget I'm a counselor. A damn fine one too.
This is the first time I've written extensively about any of this. I did not want to become one of those people whose health is their hobby, or who had a story to match everyone else. Furthermore, if one more person tells me that I need to "follow this regimen" or "do that thing for your adrenals" it won't be pretty.
My habits and my food intake are stellar. I do stay active, I meditate, and I don't drink or do drugs. I don't even smoke marijuana even though it's legal in my section of the USA.
Pain medication is something I avoid too. As in when I take Advil, I feel guilty. As if I'm cheating myself by freezing my fascia. I am.
But I'm slower. Moodier. Less tolerant.
Socializing is a pain in the ass, for a multitude of physical and mental reasons which is why I adore HIVE and blogging more. That 19 year old woman in that picture below would not recognize me. Or, maybe she would.
But ...I have changed. I've become an older woman, and just yesterday I told The Big Guy I was afraid we were aging too fast. I muttered "let's not get too old, too quickly" as we groaned going up the stairs after a short binge of weeding in the garden. God willing, I have another 30 years in me for some quality living, right?
And that's my fear. Not of dying, no. It's the "quality" of life I'm seeking.
I'm far more tired than I want to be, and doing less. I know it's not "my fault" and I'm not being "lazy" but it feels like I am at fault. It feels like I'm being lazy. I remind myself that I can "feel" any emotion however and whenever I want to, even if it doesn't reflect the truth of a situation.
Which brings me to my final point.
I've made such a fuss in the past about not making a fuss, that it's caught up with me. The truth of my situation is that after getting over COVID last summer and then a new round in the Winter? I'm not bouncing back as fast as I have traditionally. I am slower. It's taking me some time to wrap my head around it, and then to make adjustments in my life that make me grumpy because I'm unable to do as I once did.
There was a very real part of me that wanted to defy the statistics as I once did too. The simplest answer is typically the most correct: I'm getting older.
I apologize in advance for failing to be your next world leader. I do believe in reincarnation though, so I'll just take notes now. And share them here. Maybe we can all learn together?
Thank you, so much, for reading and I always welcome your comments!
Take a look at @Labyrinths when you have a moment, and join our labyrinth community on HIVE if you're interested. We just started it, so there's not much going on yet, but if you're ever in the need for a "down to earth" (but not too earthy) psychic, you can find me online at Brigid's Aether.
Any images and graphics (unless noted) are mine.
