Living Proof

Where am I? Sometimes I feel disoriented in life (not literally), but more so a feeling of either anticipation of what's to happen next, whether good or bad. But I don't want to say "bad" because the universe might hear me. They say... "they say", that whatever you put into the universe comes back to you in return. I also dislike the word "karma" because it's just wishful thinking for negative people who want to see bad things happen to those who have hurt them. I get it, you were hurt, but never wish bad on anyone, regardless of what they have done to you. Just by muttering out the word "karma" says, " I'll get him or her back." Disagree if you want, but think about it the next time you use the word. "Whatever comes around," and maybe so, but does it really? Where was I?  So I was thinking a lot this past week. I also read the last few posts I wrote on here. It's amazing when the fog clears and yo...

What's it been, a 5 day break? Not bad. Every time I jot stuff down in this blog, things seem to 'move' mysteriously. My pain has lessened, from a level 10 on the pain scale to a nice solid 5. I can definitely deal with that. Anyone who says that laughter is the best medicine has never had sciatica pain. I had a couple of friends over last night who nearly put me right back into the hospital because they made me laugh till I literally HURT. So, it flared up a tad and I was able to maintain without the drugs. This entire summer was just horrible, horrible, horrible. Pain, drugs, hospitals, ER nightmares, doctor appointments, blah! I went shopping yesterday and grabbed a shirt that says, "LOVE LIFE". Yeah, me. I truly believe there's some truth to the saying, "Gotta fake it till you make it" -- so I'm sticking to that. Here I am sitting in my beautiful office complaining about sciatica pain and how scared I am about taking pain meds, while there ...

Thank you for those who commented on my previous post. It was an unfortunate mishap that turned out to be an outburst from something that had nothing to do with me. I understand him all too well though, because I’m just like him at times. While staying at a friend’s house, I received numerous calls from my mother upset, asking me to talk to my father. She said he was crying. This big man full of power---crying? He apologized, but not in the conventional way you would think. There’s no verbal, “I’m sorry”, or anything of that nature. It’s gifts or underlying jokes and gestures, implying that “it’s okay”. I accepted his “apology”. It’s his way. Instead of walking in, leaving him with a questionable look on his face, I ran over to him and gave him a big kiss and a hug. The big bully giggled. “Sit and eat! I maydja’ some pot roast!” “Ya fatha’ made it, Deb.” My mother said, trying to put all the credit onto my father. They’re both a team in the kitchen. At that point, I wasn’t very hungr...