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It’s been almost 2 weeks since I blogged that I was taking a break from the virtual world.
I’ve been back a few times: visited folks blogs and sometimes left comments; dropped in on fb; dealt with the weird evil twin sister’s third cousin’s post.
Can’t report on the low histamine diet: if I ate low histamine all day, I always seemed to need to take one of the meds on the “do not take list;” if I didn’t take any of those meds, I didn’t manage to eat low histamine all day.
Actually, my real world life has been spinning a bit out of control lately; I’ve been using trips to the cyberverse to avoid non-virtual issues. The abstract of the web is better sometimes than the reality of life when the computer is turned off.
Over the next couple of weeks, I need to accomplish a year-or-two-for-me’s worth of stuff. I need to focus and be as pain-free as possible. The days I didn’t use the computer, my pain levels were better. So, another absence is required. I put in for a “leave of absence” from my moderating duties (which I haven’t been fulfilling as much as I should), will post a note on facebook, and will only check my email. If enough gets done in the real life, then I can catch up on folks’ cyberlives later.
Couple of things before I go “silent” for a time. The American Pain Foundation’s fibrocreativity download is amazing. Using words and pictures, folks express their feelings about/how to feels to have fibromyalgia. The APF is focusing on fibromyalgia this month, including downloadable booklets and the opportunity to order 10 free copies of their fibro awareness materials to distribute to libraries, doctor’s offices, to friends and family as part of their “action of the month.”
CBC radio’s Spark had a very interesting show that caught my ear. The segments on enchantment and designing joy were particularly intriguing. Have you heard of a “duchene” (spelling may be off) smile? It’s a smile that includes your eyes and jaw. Thus, crows feet aren’t a sign of age; they are a sign that you have smiled with your eyes and your jaw versus what the author called a “Pan Am plastic smile.” I think folks with chronic illnesses look into people’s eyes more than others do. We know how to smile with our jaws, when the pain and/or sadness keeps us from smiling with our eyes. Our “plastic smiles” hide what lies within.
Parental activity update. Well, the truce over the basement lights seems to have held. However, often I get a sense of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I look, there is nothing there. The house seems to make more noises than I remember; thumps as well as the usual creaks and groans. Some things could be my forgetfulness, or the actions of my mother. I don’t think I’d go out leaving the front door open and unlocked, but . . .
The strangest and perhaps clearest of messages came while I was organizing things in the garage prior to the yard sale. It was mid-afternoon, and I distinctly heard glass shatter. I thought perhaps I had put something too close to the edge of a shelf, or piled glasses one glass too high. Nothing was amiss in the garage or basement. I checked all the windows; no rocks thrown through. Nothing to indicate broken glass at any of the neighbours. I don’t think my mother was too happy about the prospect of a yard sale.
A friend recently blogged about her trip to the garden center. To make her trip easier, she decided to take advantage of one of the store’s electric scooters:
I don’t know why I hesitate to use those scooters…I guess I’m afraid of the “looks” I might get. Oh well, hooray for me…I did it!!
I commented as follows:
Your story highlights something that I really should blog about. My mother let her world shrink for a variety of reasons, but one was her stubborn resistance to using a wheelchair or scooter. She would bitterly lament not being able to go shopping, but wouldn’t let me arrange a trip using a store wheelchair/scooter. Her mental and physical health declined because she wouldn’t leave the house. Not couldn’t, but wouldn’t. I really wish folks would take advantage of ANYTHING that keeps their world from shrinking (mom refused the computer and internet, too). So you think: you’ll look old or dorky; it’s admitting defeat; it’s giving in to your illness. Think of it as just another way of fighting those chronic illnesses that [can] limit our horizons. Please, folks, don’t let mobility issues keep you in the house. There, I’ve ranted long enough.
Mobility wasn’t the only reason my mother shrunk her world, but she refused to consider something that would make her less miserable and isolated. That’s why I, so far, can’t completely abandon the cyberverse for too long. I don’t want to shrink my world; I don’t want to be isolated; I don’t need to feel miserable and alone.