living through “I hate you”

Being a parent is not all you are.  But living with pain a person tends to search for motives, reasons, inspiration … for living with that pain.

Why do you want to live?  Have you thought about this question?  Do you just experience, whatever you may do and have done to you or with you – without wondering?  Wondering about whether there is a point, a reason, a motive that justifies it all?

I suspect anyone stumbling across this blog may well be enaged in self examination of their life.  I for one do not experience the bliss of ignorance without challenge to that deepest question of all, “why am I here”?

Because I must be here for my children.  Plain and simple.  They need me.  It isn’t merely shelter, food, and water that sustains them.  My love demonstrated through actions as wide ranging as my giving a hug, to efforts to guide my children in how they choose to perceive the world, perceive their experiences, and do so in manners that are most emotionally healthy and productive.

Defining myself by my children is forgetting something incredibly important.

I am more than my children.  Peering through the iron filings of chronic fatigue, around the stabbing knives of pain and dodging the violent trolls – I can see that I can make people laugh.  So can you.  I can create.  I can give and receive goodness.

So can you.  You may not feel it some, most, or any of the time.  And here is where you must get deliberate.

We must practice self love.  Remember that we matter and that the pain does not take away from who we are, but certainly makes it hard to remember.

We must be ACTIVE thinkers, DELIBERATE in the direction we allow our thoughts to take.

We must push against the despair, and remember we deserve to live because of ourselves, not merely for others.

Time and again I find myself weighing, am I more burdensome or worthwhile?  That burdensome and worthwhile is based upon my (biased by my own emotions) viewpoint about myself.  How very limited and certain to be inaccurate, for we struggle to see ourselves from any perspective other than our own.

Yet to be as mentally healthy as we can, we must practice self love.  Practice means having to engage in activities purposefully that make us feel good.  This could be meditating, eating a delicious meal, taking a bath.  But it need be soly focused upon treating yourself with loving kindness.

When we love ourselves, we are stronger.  Reality is, we can also be better parents when we don’t hing our worth merely upon our children’s reactions – but necessarily utilize our judgements and insights.

Yours in practicing what seems impossible,

Renée

This is no joke:

Pain-related helplessness was the only predictor for suicidal ideations among the cognitive variables.

Twisted humor a must

Our kids need spiritual food from us parents.  Smiles, hugs, kisses, laughter and expressions of love, all vital to making sure your child doesn’t become an adult asshole.

All the goodness, that spiritual food, comes from a parent’s core of happy strength.

Pain, especially chronic (never freakin ending, this must be a joke, what the heck!) pain – tends to warp that happy strength core – sucks that goodness from a parent’s soul leaving instead a whirlpool of despair.

Whirlpools of despair won’t be full after feeding on the parent’s happy strength, the next victims are the children.

How to stop from getting sucked deep into that whirlpool of despair?  

Find a funny.  Something that makes you actually, spontaneously, truly – laugh out loud.  

And because you’re in pain, “normal” type humor may just not cut it.

It will likely have to be something ironically twistedly true that is utterly ridiculous in fact so the laughter is hysteria tinged.  Note: cutting down as much hysteria tinge as possible is better when finding humor and your kids are with you.  Hysteria is almost as freaky to our kids as them seeing us suffer.

Actively seeking funny seems phony.  Until the laughter spurts without thinking.  Laughing (and all those natural brain chemicals that laughter releases which make us feel happy) breaks thorny brambles of anger/frustration/sadness, making holes so the funny can also find you.   Of course, it isn’t like buying an ice cream cone and getting instant yum.  Finding funny and helping it find you is WORK.  Because you’re in pain goddamn it, and pain simply sucks.  And on its own, pain is far from funny.

You love your kids though, and that love needs laughter to thrive and be expressed so those kiddos can feel it.  So personal to you, what you find funny, don’t allow meanness to get any hold – leave negativity to the pain (it’s an expert).You, as a thinking parent, make it positive with your funny.  And don’t worry, most likely your funny won’t be mainstream, well yeah, because having chronic pain is not mainstream.

Meet one of my three trolls – all are my constant companions – this big guy pictured up top is probably the one who is most insecure, seemingly wanting the most attention from me.  And we know that insecurity is the root of most evils.

He loves to squish his thumb into my skull trying to pop my eyeballs out.  Imagine that rubber kid toy where you push in the top of the head and the eyes pop out.  Funny right? Well funny enough for me.

I found this big meanie greenie (the three trolls are the “meanie greenies” they don’t deserve individual names) in the “oh my god how am I going to function today I need to get back to sleep” early hours of a morning.  Just fyi, having horror dreams, me waking at the moment of being killed, are wonderful for providing the chance to do random internet searches.  It was while waiting for my heart to find its way back into my chest after the horror dream grabbed it, that I happened upon images of three trolls.

To my great (and admittedly initially hysterical) amusement, I found each troll image to exemplify (to my mind, again this is as personal as can be), my three major categories of pain.

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He is the most disgusting.  He sits on a shoulder and just twists that spike up into my head while going “squeak squeak”; ofttimes he uses a strand of rusty barbed wire, threading it up from my neck and out of my eye.  Twisting with his “squeaking”.  In my imagination I try to shove him off and he just picks his nose and flicks it. Yuck!
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This guy is mischievously unpredictable and enjoys wacking me here, there, everywhere! Just when I think I can anticipate a spot where I’ll have a sharp stab of pain… nope, he gets a totally different spot…. whoooohooooooooo!

 

All three of these jerky fellows are having their fun right now so I’m going to see if I can nap them into calm.

How about you?  Do you look for funny?

Sincerely ours in not giving in,

Renée