Finding home

Today was one of the most painful, exhausting days yet was the day I felt most at home. I often have CFS (chronic fatigue syndrome) symptoms-extreme exhaustion-just walking 5 steps to the bathroom can leave me worn out. I slept on & off all night & day, & finally figured out that putting pillows under my arms helped the pain a little bit. Having extreme joint/elbow pain from rheumatoid arthritis, fibro, & oesteoporosis causes painsomnia. Even with the pain, tiredness, & fever-like feeling, I felt really at home today. For me, home has always been mental & not based on location-living in the Czech Republic I felt like I was home...& in the mountains of Brazil it seemed I belonged there. Deep down of course I knew that moving here would work out-I never have minded change, for that signified excitement & new experiences...but that was when I was moving around overseas, etc. Today even with boxes still packed & no pictures on the wall it didn't matter. Sleeping in my old bed, with 8 pillows arranged in order of relief, & a fridge full of Marnie safe food, & Chai bunny resting underneath my foot as if it was a bunny nestling above her head, mentally I felt ok with the world. Mom had sent over a jar of flowers-ones that had broken off an arrangement dad was taking to put on my brother's grave Sunday-& with wet hair from sticking my head out the door watching our turtle-who we named Pepper-walk around in the pouring rain, I took this picture to capture my happiness. To document the proof that I was ok. That even with tremendous pain I felt at peace. That my little purple house had become my home.

 

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The Windy Shadows

As I watched the 2nd to last 'House' last night, I realized we actually have more in common than just chronic pain. & dependence on meds. & grouchy attitudes at certain times. ;) I love mysteries & puzzles as much as his character, but of course in different ways. I've always loved mysteries-I think my love for the Mystery Machine & the gang from Scooby Doo started it, & I have never looked back. At least 85% of my books I own or borrow from our incredible library (which lends loads of ebooks!) are mysteries. My dad & I share that, & our many tv shows we both love involve mystery, & we always put in our bets of who we think did it early in the episodes. My art, photography, & poetry involves a huge amount of abstract mystery. I enjoy the word play & working with word combos that involve a ton of deducing skills. As I've gotten to be a human puzzle & try to put together the unique pieces of my illnesses, I've gleaned skills. Anything I read, watch, even hear I use as tips or tricks in coping. Some are as simple as focusing on an intense film & others are borrowing survival skills from survivors & detectives. As I watched the really brilliant PBS 'Sherlock' tv series last night I felt it so much-I had a fever & was all covered up, watching the pair of them on the moors looking for a giant hound & having all the lights off I felt like I had the perfect mystery combo. Sick girl, puzzling story, windy shadows, cat knocking over a glass & scaring me to death (as the horror movie cliche goes) as I huddled under blankets watching Baskerville hounds. I recently got all the Sherlock stories for 99 cents, & am also reading at least 4-6 other mystery thrillers as well, & gaining every bit of wit & wisdom to take away with me on this insane journey.

 

Day 21-madlibs #HAWMC WEGO

Right, after being so sick with 'fibro-flu', in which it feels like you have the flu...everything hurts, even your hair, skin, etc & at times have fever. I almost always post blogs daily, but the past 2 days I've been so sick not shaking was a monumental task. I'll make up the days missed in this month's challenge, but for today I started back on their schedule. It's a take on madlibs, where you fill in parts of speech & they generate a poem (mixed with EE Cummings!). At first I thought why the hell...this makes no sense-then, considering my lack of brain function it almost totally makes sense. Here it is, plus a pic of me under some dead dried roses. Enjoy! ;) ??!

Awful Rabbit's Awful Rabbit




Wildly i have never Sing, Stupidly beyond

any Sloth, your Snowflake have their Chronic:

in your most Superb Noodles are things which Hug me,

or which i cannot Hate because they are too Unemotionally




your Fantadtic look Greatly will unTalk me

though i have Slap myself as Picture,

you Clap always Film by Film myself as Brush Signal

(Skiping Sadly, Badly) her Hilarious Paste




or if your Cage be to Throw me, i and

my Bed will Write very Madly, Slowly,

as when the Phone of this Sloth Use

the Ipad Ugly everywhere Jumping;




nothing which we are to Hang in this Cd Type

the Typewriter of your Great Tv: whose Pretzel

Play me with the Word of its Sentence,

Hoping Igloo and Mitten with each Frolicking




(i do not Quit what it is about you that Kiss

and Pet; only something in me Love

the Boot of your Snowflake is Zen than all Brush)

Ladybug, not even the Clover, has such Beautiful Tofu




- Marnie & e.e. cummings

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Fish under roses