Distracted

I was going to write about something. I can't remember what it was. It's really frustrating when this happens. I can't think of a name or the word I want to use. I couldn't think of "windchimes" this morning when talking to my neighbor. I think parts of hers fell down on the lawn over the winter and they were finally uncovered under the melting snow.
"They" say that this is normal for folks over fifty. I'm not comfortable with that. I saw how my Mom, at 82, could only tell me if she wanted red or yellow pop (Coke or Sunkist) and wanted "Hellmann's Meat Without Beets" on her shopping list (Hormel's Chili without Beans). I know where this could be headed. I don't like it.
I still can't remember what I came here to write about today. Feh.

Haiti and Helplessness

Go to this You Tube clip and advance to about 6minute 30seconds in.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvJ8MvUeq34
This is the way I feel about disasters such as the earthquake that happened in Haiti this week. It seems there is nothing more I can do than throw money at the problem. I cannot go and lift rubble. I have no needed skills. I don't know what else to do. The scope of the destruction and desperation is too big to comprehend.
I got sucked into some of the streaming coverage on television. Watching and wringing my hands is not going to help. I've stopped watching. I haven't stopped giving. I have exclaimed to my understanding of god that the help sent needs to be received now. That time is of the essence. That I'm helpless to do anymore than watch and demand the earth be unbuckled and the cranes in the Port be untwisted. That the suffering be alleviated.
I can write to my representatives in Washington that we accept refugees. This island, only 750 miles from Key West, Florida has three million people homeless and/or missing. We must provide sustainable shelter for them here if they wish to come. Other nations must also offer to open their doors along with their hearts and wallets. We must welcome them to our communities and support organizations that will assist in this endeavor.
It's been easy to ignore Haiti. The world has done it for centuries. The earthquake has put it in our sight in all it's usual poverty compounded a thousand fold. What else can we see if we'd only take a look? What else could we accomplish if we'd turn off the TV and actually do something?

Denial and Diabetes UPDATED

I was diagnosed with type II diabetes about four years ago. Where does the time fly?
Having a parent with diabetes I was tested quite often for the condition and always came back negative. It just goes to show that you are healthy until you aren't. The body is an evolving organism and who knows what flips a switch in there to go from cells saying "send in the sugar" to "no admittance." Or, "regenerate normally" to "go crazy and make a tumor!"
So one day the cells put up the "you can't unlock me with that crazy insulin to let in sugar" sign and I went all diabetic.
Now, my Dad was a rotten diabetic. He ate anything he wanted and as much as he wanted. He would get a bag of donuts and just up his insulin a few more units. Sure he died young and pretty messed up with cardiovascular complications but those donuts sure were yummy. I, on the other hand, just deny having diabetes altogether. I know in my brain I have been diagnosed and I take my prescribed medication but I don't believe it. Not really. I know my feet tingle and burn from neuropathy but I don't really mind it that much, I guess. I test my blood sugars and see the numbers. I know what the numbers mean. It does register.
So why don't I believe I'm diabetic? Maybe because I don't fall over if I eat candy. I don't turn yellow when there is too much sugar in my blood. I'm spoiled and inconvenienced and complacent. It's an easy disease to ignore until you are losing a limb or going on dialysis.
I'm angry, too, because there is nobody to take care of me or, even more basic, nobody to care for me. High levels of carbohydrates and simple sugars have been my drugs of choice. The trendy way to say it is "comfort foods." I call them corn flakes and pasta and cookies and ice cream. Kit Kat bars and buttered toast and sweet rolls and white rice and Poppycock.
Yes, I've cut out regular soda completely. I don't drink fruit juice. Most everything else, though, is still on my grocery list or in my pantry.
My therapist says I haven't had a crisis yet. This keeps denial a viable option. If only I could get to the crisis without the damage. If only somebody would intervene and make my life all it should be. Wah, wah, wah.
So what do I do? I'm not ignorant, therefore, I have no level of bliss in my denial. It's an argument I lose with myself most every day.
UPDATE: I'm learning to drink my coffee without any sweetening agents. I'm drinking green tea. A book I'm reading (The Chemistry of Joy) describes a Western Medicine/Ayurvedic/Buddhist-mindfulness approach to depression. It all jibes with the DM life. Who'd a thunk it? Hope springs.

Hitting the Canvas

Today I went into an art supply store to pick up a gift for a young artist. I haven't been in an art store for years. They smell neat and have so many fun things to look at and imagine. I pulled out some pre-stretched canvases and looked at the paints and brushes. I felt completely lost.
Years and years ago I used to paint. I liked acrylics because one could have any consistency from palette knife oils to watercolors. They mixed well, dried quickly and cleaned up easily.
Now I stand in the aisles overwhelmed by the tubes and the tools and the idea of creating.

Church of the Bean

Most every Sunday morning my friend and I meet for coffee at a local Barnes & Noble. We call it "secular church" or, alternately, "Church of the Bean." It does more good for my soul than most church services I have attended. The baristas know us so well that sometimes our order is already filled by the time we reach the counter. We are what you might call regulars. We aren't the only ones.
We see the same faces week after week. There is "hat man" and "Asian Lady that I know from someplace but can't remember" with her husband and mother, "Aging boomer couple," "suit man," etc. We all recognize each other on sight and sometimes exchange a nod or pleasantry, much as one would at a regular church. I ponder writing a book about all of us one day and creating intricate background stories for them. Nobody steal that idea!
My friend and I go all the way back to early childhood together. We have always been friends. No gaps. We know just about everything there is to know about each other. We share so much common history that we are big on reminiscing these days but will also talk about most anything under the sun. It's about the most positive time of my week and I sure look forward to it.
Church of the Bean grounds me (pun intended) for the rest of the week. It's my touchstone in time and space. It's a spiritual renewal and my cup runneth over.

Buy Nothing Day

When I was in Junior High through College age I used to go shopping with my friends the day after Thanksgiving. It wasn't called "Black Friday" back then. No "Blow Out" sales or "Door Buster" specials. The stores opened at 9-10AM like they would on any other weekday.
It was the roll out of the Christmas shopping season. The day Santa would start seeing kids, the decorations would be put up and lit. My friends and I would take the bus downtown in the morning. We'd usually have lunch at the cafeteria over the Woolworth's. Take the bus back home before it got dark or when our feet gave out. It was a fun day. A nice break from busy school schedules. One of the few opportunities to get shopping done before school and church obligations took over our time.
Then a few years down the road the "Cabbage Patch Kids" phenomenon happened. Followed by "Power Rangers" and "Tickle me Elmo" and a hundred other "MUST HAVE" toys and gadgets. Of course, kids have always wanted things for Christmas and their birthdays. Somehow, somewhere the want changed to need and the adults lost common sense. The day after Thanksgiving is no longer a fun day. It's a marathon that starts in the middle of the night and doesn't end until the day after New Year's.
I don't run that race.
Yes, I do still buy gifts for Christmas and birthdays. I am a consumer. I've been known to impulse buy and go overboard at times. Every year, though, I resist a bit more and with a bit more success. A gift should be symbolic of regard or emotion felt towards the recipient. I don't want my feelings to be symbolized by a chunk of plastic molded into whatever is the fad of the day. I don't need to go into credit card debt to measure anyone's worth or to project mine.
Today is official "Buy Nothing Day" in North America. You can read about it here: https://www.adbusters.org/campaigns/bnd
Some sponsors of this day suggest extremes such as not using utilities or even not buying anything, ever! The main aim of Buy Nothing Day, however, is to take one day to make a conscious decision to not buy for one day. Become mindful of all the purchasing you do in the course of a day or week. Question your needs and your motivations behind consuming. Separate from the herd and do nothing consumerist today. I'm doing it...or NOT doing it. It goes against the grain of modern America but the splinters eventually wear down. Just takes a bit of grit.

Meds are our friends

I've relearned a lesson this week: Don't go off your meds! In this case I did to my cat what I've done repeatedly to myself over the years. She's feeling good, she hasn't had barfies for weeks. She doesn't need that medicine anymore!
Three weeks go by. No barfies. Yesterday, barfies! Just like before she was on her medicine. Back on the maple smelling Flagyl for you, kitty!
[Now the folks at the vet office swear that it is not maple. My nose just interprets it that way. If I really pay attention I do detect the aroma of a bouillon cube. Bleh.]
I should have known better than to wean her off. I've played that game on myself so many times. "I'm feeling pretty good. I have a bright outlook now! Who needs these silly pills?" Then about three weeks later I'm feeling horrible and I can't figure out why. Durr, durr, durr.
Antidepressants are not "mood elevators." They are mood normalizers. Through rebalancing synaptic brain responses and chemistry they provide the miracle of having a regular day. No more feeling like one has been crushed by a granite slab only to have a giant boulder fall on top of it. No more seeing the landscape through a sepia toned lens, washing all the color out of the world. No more being in a state of constant dread, fatigue and morose inertia.
I think part of any illness is a certain level of denial. With chronic illness that denial is compounded by fear and exhaustion. Who has the strength to deal every day, year in and year out? Oh to be carefree, running along the beach with the wind in one's hair. Tra-la-la!
Strength, health, independence all self-obtained and self-sustained. Being a winner, an All-American myth come to life.
But it's not about being a winner or a loser. It's about serotonin and nor epinephrine and ions and cells. For some reason Depression occurs when things get out of balance. The cells are receptive or there isn't enough chemical to go around. The analogy often used is of diabetes and insulin. It's a good analogy but I've got other denial issues about that so let's move on.
So, I narcissisticly put my poor, old kitty through the same misguided folly. I think she will be ok again. Sorry little fur-baby.
I give myself points for seeing the corellation and learning the lesson in kitty-form.