30 June 2011
29 June 2011
Come regularly to meeting for worship even when you are angry, depressed, tired or spiritually cold. In the silence ask for and accept the powerful support of others joined with you in worship. Try to find spiritual wholeness which encompasses suffering as well as thankfulness and joy. Prayer, springing from a deep place in the heart, may bring healing and unity as nothing else can. Let meeting for worship nourish your whole life.
- Advice & Queries #10
This is passage is one I go back to time & again to remind myself it's okay to struggle. Because I do struggle; I'm usually tired, in pain, depressed and spiritually cold. It makes reaching that state of quite balance I'm searching for so difficult.
It feels like months since I achieved the magical reassurance, peace and even discovery, that I can find in the silence of meeting. Today was particularly frustrating. Between my sprained toe, the ache in my kidneys, the fibro pain in my hip and the swollen thyroid gland pressing on my throat, I was driven to distraction. Each time I accepted one pain enough to ignore it, another jumped up in its place. Like a frustrating game of whack-a-mole, I just couldn't settle into the deep silence.
After twenty minutes of frustration, someone started drilling outside our window. I've never been so glad for the harsh grating noise of construction work. While I'm sure it irritated others, the grinding noise blended all the pain into a single feeling I was finally able to ignore.
Finally I settled into the silence, only to find I couldn't reach that voice deep inside. Whether you consider it you conscience or that of god inside each of us, it is wonderful to experience. Somehow you can see the world objectively, without the cloud of our own worries and perspectives, revealing to you the path you should follow.
But I can't reach it, it's like there's a thin barrier in my way. I can feel a tension in my mind that I can't release. I take a deep breath and try to relax the knot in my mind, only to find my eyes watering. Such sadness and I can't even tell you why.
And I think that's the problem. How can I reach that voice of truth if I'm not opening myself to it completely? Instead I have an attic of emotional boxes. A collection of life's everyday obsticals that I can't change. So rather than fret, I pack them in a box, slide it out of the way and move on. But like lead weights, these boxes seem to drag me down.
So today I tried to be honest. I tried to open myself so that the 'light' could reach every corner. I imagined I was shedding the hard protective shell I hide behind to reveal my true emotional centre, with all its raw and ugly intensity.
I failed of course. Its second nature for me to put a cheerful smile on everything and a difficult habit to fight. I'm not suggesting of course that I need to solve every problem in my life, or even that I need to talk about the experiences hidden in these boxes, but perhaps I need to accept them and the difficult emotions wrapped around them.
Maybe I can't find myself and that centre I'm looking for because I'm ignoring so much of myself. Maybe I can't find my voice in my writing because I'm hiding from myself. To reach that deep restoring silence, maybe I have to honestly accept the weaknesses I'd rather just ignore.
27 June 2011
I don't even know where to start. I've been feeling awful for weeks now and it's leaving a haze of frustration and anger over my life at the minute. Not that awful things haven't been happening as well...
22 June 2011
12 June 2011
I would say it’s been a long hard year, but it’s only been 8 months since I last posted.
Towards the end of November Mr Goldfish’s results came back as fine. Apparently the extra vitamins and the loose boxer shorts made a huge impact on his morphology. And while this was good news, it meant I was back under scrutiny. With the stress of Christmas and also losing my Incapacity Benefit, I found I didn’t have the energy to open up and write about the weeks of waiting and stress. I was battening down the hatches, locking away the worries and pain.
We made it through Christmas and the last few tests, before being proscribed three months of Clomid. Four weeks later I crawled out of bed and took yet another pregnancy test. Groggy and half asleep, I waited the three minutes and then crawled back into bed disappointed. Ten minutes later, while I debated between indulging in a good sulk or plastering on another smile, Mr Goldfish calls in from the corridor “... You know there’s a line?” What???
I hadn't put my glasses on that morning, so I’d missed the very, very faint positive line. I was completely torn between guarding my heart and daring to hope. We took another test that day, just to see if it might be a mistake...but there it was, that slight hint of colour! The next morning we impatiently tried another test, but the line was still hard to see. Where was the really dark line you see on the commercials?? So we waited two more days, we knew we were pregnant - I just worried the faint line could mean it was ectopic or that we may miscarry. Four days after our first test the line was only slightly darker. Luckily we had an appointment booked with the doctor. She thought we were going to get the results of my thyroid test, so when I pulled out the four positive pregnancy tests she was a bit shocked.
With rather bad timing, my thyroid test showed it was hyperactive to such an extent that I had turned toxic in just a few months. While in the doctor’s office that day my pulse rate was about 142 bpm. Not a brilliant situation at the best of times, it certainly wasn’t good while pregnant. After some quick phone calls to the local hospital the GP sent us out with several sets of tablets and an urgent referral. Unfortunately, the urgent referral wasn’t exactly quick. It bounced from department to department at the local hospital before being rejected. They weren’t willing to treat the hyperthyroid condition if I was having my prenatal care at Liverpool Women's. So more referrals were made and I finally had an appointment booked for the 1st of March. I got my big plastic envelope full of pregnancy advice and had my big binder for appointments. This was really happening, I was 7 weeks pregnant.
March 11th I was home on my own when I felt the start of an IBS attack. I ran up the stairs to the bathroom, but nothing seemed amiss. I went and sat on my bed a while waiting. Another trip to the bathroom and I was starting to feel dizzy and ill, but my stomach wasn’t budging. I rang Mr Goldfish at work to tell him I wasn’t well. It felt a bit like the first (and very worst) kidney stone pain I’d had, so I tried curling up on the hall floor with my back in the air. That just made things worse. I went to the bathroom again, still hoping that it was just bad IBS. I wouldn’t be so lucky. On returning to the bedroom I remember bouncing into the wall; I awoke to find myself lying on the floor. I rolled over and felt around, finding my bedside table just inches from my head. I now knew where I was, but I was having some difficulty moving. I climbed on the bed and rang Mr Goldfish again, telling him to come home now! I was hot and clammy and the polyester Canadian Hockey jersey was making everything worse. I managed to pull the jersey off and then didn't move for the next hour or so till the Mr got home.
With Mr Goldfish there for support I headed for the bathroom once more, but collapsed again. We didn’t really know what to do. There was no bleeding, I was conscious and talking for most of the time...I just felt really rotten. He called the hospital for advice, and they told us to call the GP for a home visit. He called the GP and they said call an ambulance.
It’s probably a good thing we did. The pregnancy was ectopic and ruptured at 8 ½ weeks. I now have the equivalent of a caesarean scar; I also lost 4 litres of blood and my right tube. In the end I received 5 units of blood, 5 units of frozen plasma and another 2 units of blood in ICU.
That was 13 weeks ago, and for the most part I’m back to normal, though we can't try again for another 3 months.
So it's back, yet again, to waiting.