Category Archives: Writing

Habit Reset

What now?

She is not me

I need a new driver

Infusion Day

Real Talk

I know it’s been a while since I posted. I’m still writing almost every day, because it’s what I must do for my general sanity, but I haven’t felt a strong need for blogging. Well, that’s not true. This whole blog is pretty much my personal stream of consciousness, and I haven’t wanted to bore you with my thoughts lately. But I’m going to try to get back to it. I’m trying to work some consistency into my life with writing and exercising, so adding blogging into that isn’t a huge stretch. (That’s a lie, I started this post 5 days ago.)

Consistency is a challenge when you are having to work around bouts of fatigue. I never know when it will come and how long it will last. And to be even more honest, it really bothers me that after nearly 15 years with M.S., I still struggle this hard with fatigue. Thankfully it doesn’t send me into a tailspin of depression the way it used to. My brain is getting better at managing, I suppose. Thank you to my therapist for that. And for the Holy Spirit, who whispers wisdom when I make a point to stop and listen.

I’m still running. Still writing. Still deaf, and still mostly blind. I have days when I feel okay with my physical limitations. Days when I’m just putzing around the house, so it doesn’t interfere too much. And then days like last Wednesday, when I was out grocery shopping with a friend. It’s exhausting and psychologically taxing. For someone who lived most of her life as a people pleaser with strong codependent tendencies, it’s a tough switch to not care about bothering the people around me. This is the attitude I must take whenever I am out in public if I have any hope of not collapsing into a puddle of tears. Metaphorically speaking, of course. What I am trying to say is that in order to make it through a store, even a store as small and streamlined as Aldi, I need to put on my blinders and not worry that I might be in other shoppers’ way. There is no sign on my back that warns – “Slow shopper, please excuse” – in order to solve the mystery of why I’m staring for so long at a wall of bread. (They all look so similar and I have to carefully read the labels on the shelves.)

I’m not sharing all that to garner pity or validation (well, maybe just a little). I think I’m mostly sharing it because I want you to remember this the next time you are at the grocery store, or in line at a fast food restaurant, and the person in front of you is taking an excessive amount of time (from your perspective). Maybe there is someone on a motorized scooter parked right in front of the chips you came for, and you have to wait an extra minute or two. Does it irritate you? Does it make you mad? Remember, they are probably just as frustrated having to use the stupid scooter. So please, have some patience please. Your kindness goes a long way.

**********
So that post went an entirely different direction than I expected. I came back to it today and groaned. This is the life of a writer. Not every day can be a great writing day, but you keep doing it anyway. The catch with blogging is other people are reading your crap writing and may be (gasp!) *judging* you. So I figured I have two options: obsess over every sentence to tweak and make it better, or delete it altogether. I’m going with a third option. Hit publish and move on with my day. I’ll be back with more updates, I’m sure. See you later, folks. Have a beautiful day.

Shall we chat about food and writing?

Well, I spoke too soon about the dysesthesia (the burning sensation) on my back. I had a day’s reprieve, but it returned today. So that was kind of disappointing, but it’s fine. It just requires some wardrobe adjustments and limiting my upper body movement until it settles down. No biggie.

With my increase in energy I was able to make more meals at home this week! One of the downsides of my fatigue is that I’m not making meals for my family. This means they are eating crap processed food from the freezer, or Ramen (my daughter’s personal favorite), or fast food. So this week it has been really nice to get back to some better meals. Wednesday I made BLTs and onion rings. Thursday I made shredded chicken for tacos in the crockpot and it was so good (and plentiful) we had it again for dinner tonight. Tomorrow I’m planning to make pulled pork for sandwiches with coleslaw, and Sunday, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Most would probably not call any of these meals healthy, but compared to what we eat when we are in mom’s-fatigued-crisis-mode, it’s a nice change. Also, it’s mostly been food my picky family all enjoys, so that’s always satisfying.

In addition to returning to healthy habits, I’m trying to get back to writing and working on my memoir. I had been plugging along pretty steadily on that when the fatigue hit. I knew writing a memoir would be challenging, but I’m finding it challenging in ways I didn’t expect. Through the magic of the interwebs I’ve connected with a lot of other memoir writers, however, and I am learning a ton. It’s been really great to bounce ideas off other people who can relate directly to the challenges I’m facing. They offer advice that they’ve learned along the way, and hopefully I’m able to offer them helpful feedback as well. I joined a weekly writer’s group to help keep me motivated. Just being a member of the group keeps me accountable and encouraged to not give up on the process.

You might find this interesting: I’ve read in several books on how to write memoirs, that writing a memoir is akin to training for a marathon. Which is humorous to me. I’ve trained for two marathons, and writing this memoir is by far the most challenging. At least with the marathons I had cut and dried plans to follow. But while “how to write a memoir” isn’t so cut and dried and that is frustrating to me, it means there’s a lot of room for creativity and I’m learning how fun that can be. For example, this past week in my writing group I took a stab at a “quick and dirty” shortened version of what I *think* the book will end up being about. I read it to the rest of the group and it was a lot of fun! It felt silly and free, and like it had sort of gotten me “unstuck” from where I was in the process. I still have so far to go, but I at least feel like I’m headed in a (mostly) forward direction. I will include my quick and dirty short version at the end here, in case you are curious. Keep in mind, it’s not to be read for critique, it was only written as an exercise in searching for a skeleton or outline to the book, which has been one of my ginormous struggles up to this point. I have a plethora of life experiences and stories in my head as well as on the page, and needed to find a way to filter out what actually belongs in this book.

Here is what I wrote this week:

Once upon a time there was a woman. She sat at home alone, feeling helpless and hopeless. She considered swallowing a bottle of Xanax to put an end to her suffering. (They said I should start with my lowest point.)

But! A desperate cry into the interwebs resulted in a friend coming over to save her from herself. She vowed never again to give up fighting.

Why was she so hopeless? What was she fighting? Multiple sclerosis yes, but more recently deafness, permanent vision loss. How will she come back from all this? What will rehabilitation look like?

She decides to start with the basics. Cleaning, cooking, connecting with family and friends. She developed new routines, and as things were scary or feeling new to her, her friends and family helped her to adapt. She overcame fears of boiling water and cutting apples, for example. She began walking around the block with her walker, and eventually walking with her cane to take her kids to the bus stop for school. She eventually was able to give up the cane until one day, she decided to see what would happen if she jogged for a couple of sidewalk squares.

Incredibly, she did not fall!! Bolstered by her victory, she worked and worked at building up the strength in her legs, taking solo trips around the neighborhood. When news came of a local 5k race happening, she decided to sign up to run it. (And here’s where we could write more about all the races she’s run and how she had to adapt, not ever having been a runner previously, and certainly never one with physical impairments.) Five years later, we see a woman running alone in the street, leaning hard to the left, hobbling her way to a makeshift finish line. As she sobs, she breaks through the caution tape and collapses into her husband’s arms. She has just run her first marathon, 26.2 miles, in just under 7 hours. She is elated, ecstatic to have finished on her feet, but vows never to run another one.

That ending is obviously incomplete, but it was a timed exercise so that’s where I had to leave it. I’ve always struggled with endings, so I still don’t know where to go with it, but I’ll figure that out (for those who know my story, if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!). If you could see the mess of chapters and paragraphs I’ve collected so far, you would appreciate that writing this quick and dirty tale is a major step forward in creating a plotline for my memoir. Beginnings seem to come naturally to me when I’m writing, but I get a little lost in my head through the middle and by the end I just don’t know how to “land the plane”. So that’s something I’m accepting about myself and working on. This writing project is proving to be a great lesson in grace and patience with oneself! For real.

And that is all, folks. It’s after 9, my brain has officially shut down. No more editing. This is what you get. Have a fabulous weekend!