tangible things

All posts in the tangible things category

All bets are off

Published August 8, 2016 by 51percentawesome

 

I hear that when AIDS first happened, doctors didn’t know what was happened and assumed it was psychosomatic. Until people died, and they found a biomarker.

The problem with chronic fatigue is that you don’t die. With no disrespect intended to those with terminal illness, at least you know that the pain and restriction will end- usually you’ll either die, or you’ll recover.

Quality of life for people with chronic fatigue is worse than those on kidney dialysis or with cancer (study).The suicide rate is six or seven times the rest of the population.

I can move my arms, my legs, I can talk and laugh and dance and sing and do my own shopping and cooking and showering.

But for every 30 second block of activity, I will pay. With instant heavy limbs, dizziness, breathlessness. With sound and light sensitivity that makes the smallest rustle spread pain through my body like an electric shock. I will whimper as my arms and legs tremble, as suddenly I’m spent, as my gland swell, my arm pits ache, and the touch of material on my skin overwhelms me. I will lay awake, exhausted but unable to sleep, yearning to escape the nightmare that becomes my body. Exhaustion that goes on and on and on.

So I sit up slowly. I stop moving my arms, gesturing, dancing in the car. I stay away from people I don’t know, text instead of phone call. I weigh it up before I reach for things, before I move. I hold onto my pee. I rest my body on doorways, my head on couches, I sit on the floor. I stay in bed. My partner carries me to the toilet to maximise the energy I’ll have left for talking and eating, and extend the reach of the day. I only eat soft foods so my jaw doesn’t ache. I mininise sex and try not to move too much. Mininise, maximise. Careful with those spoons. If I manage it carefully, I won’t go into meltdown.

No playing with puppies. Swimming. Hot baths and showers, laying in the sun. Staying up late. Eating out for dinner. Walking on the beach. Driving. Chopping vegetables. Using my arms to pat the cat. Watering the garden.

 

Not it if I want to make it through the day.

bottom line

Published May 23, 2013 by 51percentawesome

Relationships involve bringing life into physical form through conception and birth. Two together, separate from the whole. Part of the whole, and not separate, but separate. If you want the highs, accept and run with the lows. Unless you turn your back on the attachment which is the physical manifestation of human romantic love, the time based commitments of two physical forms, and the heights of ecstasy from such a physical connection, you are bound with physical experience and emotion. To coordinate, you will require your mind to make decisions and communicate your intentions and creations. The spiritual reality of the now, of non-attachment, of accepting presence and the ultimate release into spaceless timeless oneneess with divinity… Well, that is ever-present. First and foremost though, we are humans, and our actions are birthed through our bodies. With divine intention, sure, but there is no dismissing our place in a cause and effect world. We cannot change or fix what essentially is in tangible form, we can only accept and move with the flow which comes through us. Through us come the ripples of movements long ago, over which we have no control. Just sayin’.

365 days of celibacy

Published March 7, 2013 by 51percentawesome

It’s 35 days since I had sex. It was the quickest shag of my life, and I didn’t come.

I’ve lost weight, and I like the way my body looks. I caught a glimpse of my flat stomach in the mirror today, and this body was made to be touched. Right?

Starting from 13… Boyfriend, heartbreak, singleness, kisses laid enthusiastically on random faces, a boyfriend, another boyfriend, sex, heartbreak, singleness, another boyfriend, more heartbreak, more sex.

Jesus. It goes on like this for twelve years. My relationship history reads like… Well. 13 was also the age I decided to learn to barefoot water ski. I spent a year going along on my ass in cold water, standing up and falling over. I smacked myself repeatedly while my dad towed me back and forth. Eventually I got sick of all the bullshit and just stood up. I was so fucking shocked I fell right back over. I still don’t like to stand up, with the experience I have amassed falling over… But I can. And eventually, even relax and have fun exploring it.

I recently decided to learn to headstand. Kick my legs up, fall the fuck over. And over, and over. I learnt to tuck and roll in order to not break my neck. I’d try until I was exhausted, or in pain. A friend (who headstands effortlessly) watched amused, commenting that if nothing else, I am tenacious. Determined. Today I folded my knees in and very, very slowly extended them to the sky, held them for a few beats, and lowered them back down.

I can headstand, and I can barefoot water ski. Both require core strength, a certain amount of skill, and guts. But as far as relationships go, I’m still standing up, falling over, and getting injured in the process.

Circus

Published August 21, 2012 by 51percentawesome

And this hoop, and that hoop, and good god my manuscript is a mess.

Giving birth to a book takes longer than I expected. I have the gestation period of an elephant.

In other news. For the nerds like me out there who like statistics:

..and for those of you who know how to read graphs:

And even if you didn’t grasp the graph, or the stats, here’s a vlog update.

See you next tuesday

Published July 31, 2012 by 51percentawesome

Tuesday is for timewasting. Tuesday is for putting problems down, in resignation or other wise. Tuesday is a ceasefire. No emails or phone calls with an agenda. No organising, ‘following that up’ or replying out of obligation.

Tuesday is for living just for the now. No future planning or foundation building. The challenge is to play: to sing, dance and have meaningless conversations.

Tuesdays run against my grain. I find myself making suggestions (fucking good suggestions), problem solving for those around me. Engaged engaged engaged, in making things better.

Tuesdays are about acceptence, and surrender. Seeking comfort, looking at rainbows, sitting in the backseat. Remembering the things I love, not because of what they can do for me, but just because they are. Spontaneity needs room to move, and in my urgency to create and manifest, it appears to have been stifled. My attempts at singing and dancing are, at present, stifled. Some aspects of the to-do list that is my life snuck in: upon waking, i changed the kitty litter. I checked my emails, and deleted the unnecessary ones. I returned my voicemails, though I drew a line at filling out a form: that shit will wait until tomorrow. Out of the house looking pretty with appropriate amount of walking and vitamin d, check. Who am I if not my to-do list?

Prohibited: conversations about life challenges and issues. Prohibited: self-help and cookbooks. Prohibited: any activity designed to turn me into something other than I am.

Allowed: sunsets, riding buses in the opposite direction, blog writing.

Future suggested activities: Busking. Swimming. Hitchhiking. Movies. Eating out. Going dancing. Drinking tea. Sewing. Listening to music. Laying on the grass. Skateboarding. Beach. See you next Tuesday 🙂

Only one way out of hell and that’s through it….

Published July 20, 2012 by 51percentawesome

This is your life. It’s not going to get any better. She’s not going to change. I know it’s not what you wanted. But you’re really lucky. Get down and gimme 50 reps why.

I’m really lucky that my mother takes the time to feed me. I am lucky that she understands natural laws. I am lucky that my mother is incredibly giving, and wants to give me every single lesson she ever learned. I am lucky that my mother has a sense of humour. I am grateful my mother tells me to wear colour. She tells me I am beautiful, and she (!) books, takes me to, and pays for me to get my armpits waxed. I am lucky that my mother takes me to the fruit shop and asks what I want every. single. time. I visit. I am grateful for my mother being a creative person, for her wonderful food presentation. I am lucky to have a mother who is enthusiastic and wholehearted about life. I am lucky to have a mother who would (and has) give me the clothes off her own back just because I say I like them. I am grateful for my mothers passion for cooking- she really cares about food. I am grateful for the wealth of resources my mother has and can provide me with. I am grateful for these zucchini patties. I am grateful for the fact my mother rinses her washing up. I am lucky to have a mother who cares about animals and the environment. I am grateful that my mother has never turned her back on me. I am glad my mother taught me how to spell. I am lucky that my mother taught me how to think. I am grateful that I became so competent and level-headed in the face of her chaos. I am grateful that my mother was crazy because it motivated me to become close to other family members. I am grateful for the fact that my mother taught me to live outside the box. I am grateful for the large amounts of food, books, and kitchen appliances my family give me. I am grateful for the fact I can ask my mum any question on a large range of topics and she can usually answer. I am grateful for her honesty. I am grateful that knowing my mother is knowing what it is to be open, raw and responsive to the world. I am grateful for my mother’s friendliness with strangers. I am grateful that my mother and father separated so I have places of refuge from each. I am grateful for my mother teaching me to be a critical thinker. I am grateful for my mother teaching me to dance. I am lucky to have experienced her love of the water. I am lucky to have lived in a house with no TV and hand-written my assignments from encyclopaedia’s. I am lucky for the animals my mother allowed into my life. I am grateful to have experienced natural freedom as a child. I am grateful for summer salads made into smiley faces on the front porch. I am grateful for the experience of eating fresh snow peas off the vine. I am lucky to have known what it is to save and care for animals at a young age. I am lucky to have lived with trees, lake and beach. I am grateful for the town she bore me into. I am grateful for her valuing, and teaching me to value, education. I am lucky she slept in so I could spend so much time making a mess and climbing trees. I am lucky to have the kind of crazy left-field mother who chains herself to a bulldozer.

True story.

Rejecting your family is rejecting yourself. You don’t need to like them or agree with them or even spend time with them, but as long as you wish they were different, you wish you were not yourself. And you’re pretty fuckin awesome.

Just sayin’.