Art imitates life

Question is asked, "So how do you feel today?"

Answer:

Eh.

But things may be improving...sort of... kinda... who knows?

I had some remote Qigong work done this weekend. It definitely did SOMETHING, but what it was, I have no idea. Still working, maybe... see above, under "have no idea."

But, no adverse side effects. We like that.

Took care of some over-the-web business this morning. Might head to the bathroom to transact some  Bathroom Business, might get a quick snack to transact some Nutrition Business, might head to the bed to transact some Lie Down And Do Nothing Business.

Or all three.

So many of my fellow MS bloggers tell of so many rich adventures, even if they're only "inner" adventures, before which my Feebles seem to pale. But, as has been often said, the real jihad is the internal jihad, and each of us gets a custom-designed internal jihad placed before us, whether we're into it or not.

Which, I would presume, most would not. Oh well.

So, that seems to be it for now. No music. Snack, bathroom, bed.

Maybe I'll treat myself to an online Rick and Morty. a new series on Adult Swim.

The characters of which show are definitely doing the "internal jihad" polka. Some with more success than others... Morty's dad (on the left, in the picture below) has a humongous internal jihad, at which among so many other things he seems utterly incompetent, which makes him face-plant into reality very often, and very painfully.

Which actually, tragically enough, makes MS seem ... merciful.

Art imitates life, eh?

REALLY facing loss

This is a hard one, to write about.

All of us MSers pretty much get a face-plant into "this body eventually stops working the way we had becomes accustomed to."

So now I'm in a wheelchair. So now I'm in the Cath Club. So now I can't raise my wheelchair into the back of my truck so I can't drive places without help at the end of the journey. So now I can't deal with eating anything unless I have the right medicinal herbs to help my appetite.

We can all go on for hours. And not just MSers, all of us who have come to this incarnation eventually "get" to deal with such things. For too many of us, to "deal" with such things.

But something really slapped me hard... fine control over my hands, today it's especially my right hand which has always been my first choice for "fine control."

Try to use chopsticks to pick up something. I used to be really, really good at chopsticks. Apparently, not so much today.

Try to use a spoon to feed yourself. It feels like I'm going to lose all control over the spoon the second I pick it up and try to use it.

The mouse and the piano-style keyboard, for writing music on the computer. I can almost not use either. Lord, I tried to show somebody how the finale to Widor organ-symphony 5 worked, and could barely operate the keys even badly.

I drop things all the time. "Oh, why don't I just throw all this stuff on the floor," I find myself saying. All the time.

I tried to fold a shirt that I had just somehow put through the laundry, yesterday. Didn't work.

Tried to pick up a piece of cloth to wipe my glasses. Almost couldn't.

OK, I can just hear the trying-to-be-wellwishers saying things like "But no, you DID very nearly fold it! See, that's a triumph!" Yeah, well, I don't feel that way.

My legs took quite a while to "give out." I'm hoping that I can get them back a little closer to functional, for things like "stand up and take that off the shelf without dropping it," but things like playing the organ? I think that's ... over. Which, unless something radical changes, it is. And although that was painful, losing playing the organ, it took a while to get to the "can't get there from here" point, and the line in the sand between "you can" and "you can't" took a while to draw. Which maybe, maybe, made things a little easier. A little easier... maybe.

But this "hand failure" is coming at me so fast that I'm just watching independence and accomplishment vanish... even for small things like "mash up the avocados to make guacamole," which my hand was nearly unable to do. Nearly unable to even stir the avocados.

And let's not go into "what do I think," the better question is "what do I feel?" I feel... and this is the hard part... well, I scream when my hand fails, I think I feel fear. Terror. About what, doesn't matter; what I feel, does. I feel...

Terror. And loss.

Now, long ago when I started this blog, it was about gifts. About learning things. About finding the new, even the funny.

I haven't found any of those things. Yet, at least. Is there a gift there, waiting for me to discover it? I say "yes" very quickly, but truth be told, I ain't there yet. I feel terror, and loss.

Which maybe is the gift. Telling the truth. Witnessing the truth, no matter what it is, no matter how terrifying it may be or how much grief it brings me. Because facing those things may be the gift it has for me.

Just because people like Ram Dass speak very soothingly on loss, or that "everybody has to deal with it," doesn't make things easier. (That one, I've always been infuriated by. Yeah, everyone has to deal with it, and that lessens MY pain... how? They're suffering TOO. And that's supposed to make me feel better... why? Everyone in the room has a grand piano sitting on their face. That makes the piano sitting on my face weigh less... how? That makes my face feel better... how? Other people's suffering does not lessen mine. If it lessens YOURS... good for you.)

But this loss... I can't get through by "living in my head." This, I've actually got to face, and deal with.

Is that the gift?

... mmmaaaayyyybe...... ....  ............

Layers of truth (and Truth)

Types of truth...

There's simply accurate, like 2+2=4 is simply accurate.

There's what I'm calling today "shallow truth," like a snap judgement or a rehearsed response. Something just kinda "snaps out" when you're asked to answer a question (such as "how do you feel today?" or "when person X does Y, how do you feel?"). Sometimes one speaks from one's own memory of ... whatever... but sometimes what you're really reacting to is not the specific question or moment, it's something that underlies the moment or question but that hasn't been processed yet.

Shallow truths are often clouded by emotions about other people or circumstances. You think you're talking about [whatever you think you're actually talking about], but actually, what's really bothering you is something different.

Deep Truth--yes, capitalized--is very simple. Three words, usually... "I feel [feeling]." And that's all. No "they," no "you," just "I."

Very powerful, Deep Truth is... and especially powerful in how liberating it can be.

You don't need to tell someone, like a pastor/priest/counselor. Nobody needs to hear you. (You can address such things to whatever spiritual being you like, depending on your own faith traditions and paths.) Actually speaking these Deep Truths is powerful, even if all you speak them to is the wind. But  what's key is that you "cop" to them. You really, really, just... admit them.

Sometimes you need to force yourself into (and thus out of) the corner, metaphorically... You can find yourself railing about "Damn it, They (whoever "they" is/are) did X and that was just WRONG!!!!" but then, you stop yourself; and you ask, "But how to YOU feel?" And here, "you" is actually "I," but a little separation, even if it's only metaphoric, sometimes helps.

But it's hugely liberating. "Person X did Y and that's just not fair, what's wrong with them?" That's not liberating. "Don't judge," as Rick of Rick and Morty often says. But if you come back to yourself, and force yourself to come clean with "Yes, but I feel... [whatever]," and you go really inside yourself to reach that Deep Truth... That is liberating.

So that's part of my internal struggle, nowadays. Sometimes, it's easy... and how do I feel about having to use this catheter to empty my bladder? I really like this catheter is about all I have on that particular topic. I truly don't think I'm imprisoned by my membership in the Cath Club. But I've still got chains wrapping my heart from my former employer. When I can really drill down to the "I feel...[specific feeling]" level, I can feel the chains unwrapping. I actually felt some major back muscles relax and the way I was sitting up completely change, my Heart not only spiritually opened, but my chest opened and let the Heart breathe, metaphorically speaking.

This is all part of the Witness; being truthful, Deeply Truthful, to and with one's self. To cop to what your process actually is.

A good thing indeed, MS or not, the Witness.

But yeah, Deep Truths. They have power. And, as the Good Book says, the Truth will set you free. And good book or not...

It will.