Raise your hand if you've heard that before; either in statement or question form and either directed at you or someone else.
It's a phrase that's been around for a while; at least a few or more decades, doncha know.
And to answer the question: actually - yes, I do; except only one . . .
:)
Going back to July when I had to take a trip to the ER because of sustaining some injuries during a seizure . . . the CT scan they performed showed a a small tumor on my brain. The specific type of this illustrious visitor is called a meningioma.
The cool thing about meningiomas is that they are slow growing and are usually benign.
Now. The cool thing about the meningioma that has claimed my cerebral area as its residence is that it is calcified (the tumor; not my brain - let's be very clear on this, y'all Ha!). A calcified tumor means that it's been there a while and it's not going to grow in size. Not growing in size is definitely good news.
The ER suggested that I visit a neurologist for further consultation. After finally getting to the place where I was able to even consider this, I made the appointment, and then Tex and I went to it together.
Pre-appointment, I figured the doctor would want to order an MRI. I figured correctly.
The MRI was performed last week, and we will learn the results on October 2nd. The reason why we need to wait so long is because my doctor is out of the office during the month of September. However, I am choosing to go on the premise that "no news is good news". I'm also guessing that if something of significant impact were to show up on the MRI, that one of my doctor's colleagues would surely immediately call me. Hence, no news is good news.
In the meantime, I'll go on with life and try not to get wrapped up into "what ifs".
*~*~*~*~*
Speaking of what-ifs . . . I'm not so much concerned about the tumor. It's calcified (hence, having a rock in my head - LOL) and it's not going to grow. It probably is also benign.
But.
And, to seque for just a bit . . . through personal experience, I've known for some time that a seizure can affect one's short-term memory. Specific to me, a seizure absolutely does affect my short-term memory for a day or two preceeding and following a seizure. Boiling that down even more and providing a real example, there's a good chance that if I meet someone during that time frame, then the next time we meet, I'm probably not going to even remember that I met such a person. It won't be a case of simply forgetting their name; it will be as if we've never met; at least for me. My apologies to y'all in advance in case this ever happens to you; it certainly isn't intentional. There are other examples of short-term memory loss that I've experienced, but let's stick to just one for now.
Going back to the "but" (the conjunction, not one's derriere) . . .
. . .What knocked me off my feet for a few days after my appointment with the neurologist is what I learned about long-term seizure histories. Basically, the more seizures one has and the longer period of time that one has a seizure history, the greater the risk of pervavise comprehension and cognition loss / decline; not just short-term memory loss surrounding specific seizure events.
I was not at all prepared to hear this.
If you know me, then you probably know that I have been researching food, health and nutrition since 1987. You also might know that the first seizure occurred about 6 months into the beginning of my endeavoring to live a healthy life and that is then when I also started slanting my research to include combating seizures without pharmeceuticals. You probably also know how so very much I avoid anti-seizure drugs. I arrived at this stance not only by doing research but also and most importantly through my own experience with several different anti-seizure pharms. None of the drugs I was prescribed ever controlled the seizures; and more importantly, the side effects were horrendous, with a couple of such side affects being completely intolerable for me.
One such unacceptable side effect was that of losing my comprehension skills while on the drugs. This was in the early 90s, and I don't know if I can ever convey to anyone how completely daunting that was for me.
So. The drugs were not controlling the seizures and the side effects were appalling. That's when I decided that anti-seizure drugs were not for me.
And if you know me, you probably also know that I'm anti-pharmeceutical pretty-much clear across the board (not just regarding seizure drugs) . . . I don't even take OTC pain relievers, nor do I even use "seemingly innocent" products that have drug warnings on their labels. I'm certainly not proclaiming that everyone follow suit; but for me, I'm just not into taking drugs of any kind.
But . . . I suddenly found myself between a rock and a hard place a couple of weeks ago, while sitting in the doctor's office. Taking anti-seizure drugs can affect one's ability to think and comprehend. However, long-term seizure histories can do the very same thing. Twenty-six years seems a bit long-term to me, and I won't even try to guess how many seizures I've had during that time (I didn't start logging them until a few years ago).
But. All is not lost. :) I've got a quasi plan in place and have discussed it with Tex. He is in agreement with me on it; and that is so very wonderful. Of course it all depends on what we learn about the MRI in a few weeks; but going on the presumption that nothing else (other than the calcified tumor) is wrong inside my grey matter, I do have a plan; one that I actually implemented about 2.5 weeks ago.
That's about all for now. I'm sure I'll be writing more about all of this; but for now this seems like a good stopping place.
Am I nervous about this (whatever all this entails)? Yes, I am.
BUT. I also know that none of this came as a surprise to Our Lord, and that He already was covering all of this before I ever knew about it. I know that to be Truth.
I don't know where this journey is going to take me, but I do know two immutable facts: (1) God is going to be with me on this journey - every step of the way. (2) And, so is Tex.
What more could a girl want?
:)
Thanks for reading; y'all be blessed!
HIS Peace & HIS Joy,
Sharmie
Monday, September 9, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
Me, Myself . . . and Seizures (Part 2)
From Part 1:
"My next blog entry will deal specifically with how people have responded to me, seizure-wise . . . and likewise, my general, thoughts, feelings and outlooks to such responses. My hope is that I will be able to educate, explain and even encourage."
Click here to read Part 1.
*~*~*~*~*
The first thing that I want to mention in this particular blog post is that I know that the majority of people have my welfare at heart at regarding things they say to me about seizures. I *know* this.
Having said that . . .
:)
. . . I would like to address a few things that have come up over the years; things that people have asked, suggested or said regarding me and seizures.
Please and thank you.
:)
And, while these are my own personal thoughts regarding my own life, perhaps they will also resonate with someone else who has had similar experiences with seizures.
*~*~*~*~*
Most people who know me already know that I am a bit anti-pharmeceutical. "A bit" is actually more than an under-statement . . . I do not even take OTC drugs; not even aspirins and other similar type pills.
I am especially anti-pharmeceutical regarding anti-seizure drugs. Occasionally, this has proven to be quite baffling to various people in my life; even after I explain my reasonings. Simply put, in the past, I have tried *many* anti-seizure drugs, and the results were not at all satisfactory; and sometimes, such results were even completely unacceptable. Since I am the one who is going to have to experience the "side effects" *along with* the inefficacy of an anti-seizure drug, I figure I'm also the one who gets to decide whether or not I take such illustrious drug. So . . . if you disagree with me on this stance, please do not treat me condescendingly because of it and please do not roll your eyes at me, scold me, criticize me or do anything else that will convey to me your disapproval regarding this very personal decision.
Case in point: The lady that was asking me intake questions and taking my vitals at the ER the other day did this very thing. She actually pulled a Dr. Phil on me; and let me tell y'all, dear friends, it was not appreciated - not at all. After telling her that I had fallen because of a seizure, she then asked me which anti-seizure drug(s) I was currently taking. When I answered that I wasn't taking any of them, she looked me up and down, stared at my injured face and then said, "And, how's that working for you?" With the exception of that one instance, she was actually a very nice person. But. This very nice person didn't know me from Eve. She didn't know my case history regarding seizures and she certainly didn't know of my research or my personal experience with anti-seizure pharms. Nor did she know how very rare it is for me to incur an injury during a seizure (I can count on one hand, with digits to spare, the number of times I have seriously hurt myself because of a seizure).
I'd like to encourage y'all to remember this example. So often it's easy for us humans to assume that we are capable of immediately ascertaining all the ins and outs of a situation; and then, we feel quite justified in offering our unsolicited expertise / opinions. But. Often, it's simply not that cut-and-dry. Often there are many factors that cannot be known "at first glance". To assume otherwise usually justs mucks up things and causes some uncomfortable moments.
*~*~*~*~*
Throughout the years, some people have assumed that stress is the cause of the seizures that I have had. Now. While it is true that stress can cause seizures in some people, it is not an across-the-board trigger; not everyone who experiences a seizure does so because of stress. Looking back on the past 26 years, I'm very confident that stress is not a seizure trigger with me. I know this because some of the most emotionally stressful times in my life have been seizure-free, plus some of the seizures I've had have throughout the years happened during incredibly peaceful and/or happy time periods. There ya go.
So! :)
When you ask me if I had a seizure because of stress and I indicate that stress isn't a seizure trigger for me, please, please, please do not noticeably disagree with me. By the way, can y'all imagine how stressful that type of conversation is? Ha!
*~*~*~*~*
How many of y'all have a physical "thing" that you deal with occasionally? C'mon. Raise your hands; don't be shy. I'll put my hand up. For me, that physical thing is a neurological disorder known as seizures. Now . . . for those of y'all that have raised your hands, how many of y'all like for people to make mention of that physical disorder, illness, etc. every time they speak to you?
Didjy'all just notice how quickly I put my hand down?
:)
May I just say right here and right now that I truly could happily live the rest of my days without ever being asked, "So, have you had a seizure recently?" (or, "When was the last time you had a seizure?")
Some of the sweetest people in my life feel that they have to ask me about seizures every time we have a conversation. I cringe when they do this. I know they are simply expressing their love and concern for me . . . I *know* this. I deeply appreciate that they do love me and that they care for me. But, I'd like to suggest that I am far more than just a seizure history. Ask me about Tex or our daughters or our grandbabies or any of our other family members. Ask me what I've created in my studio lately or what I think of the most current news item. Ask me anything; just please don't ask me for a recounting of when I last had a seizure if I haven't brought up the topic. Seizures do not define me; they are simply a pain in the patoot that I occasionaly have to deal with - and of which I have great hope that one day I will truly be seizure-free.
*~*~*~*~*
Here are a couple of tidbits that you may or may not know about seizures:
- Technically, I have epilepsy. Epilepsy is not a "cause" of seizures; it is simply an "umbrella" word for unexplained seizures; meaning there isn't a physiological reason for the seizure (i.e., diabetic seizures are not epileptic in nature because diabetic seizures are caused by diabetes). Oh, and while I technically have epilepsy, I do *not* consider myself to be an epileptic . . . I consider myself to be a human being. There ya go.
- Seizure-control via pharmeceuticals is not always possible. In fact, more than 30% of people who have epilepsy have seizures that cannot be controlled via anti-seizure drugs.
*~*~*~*~*
So. Do you have any questions regarding me and seizures? Please feel free to ask them here. I never mind questions; they're great learning tools. Truth be known, I'd much rather someone ask a question than make an assumption.
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Be blessed,
Sharmie
p.s. - One more thing, please . . . they are not "my" seizures. They are "the" seizures. Yep, semantics are important; most definitely. Want to read where I write the very same thing about 15 months ago? Click Here
"My next blog entry will deal specifically with how people have responded to me, seizure-wise . . . and likewise, my general, thoughts, feelings and outlooks to such responses. My hope is that I will be able to educate, explain and even encourage."
Click here to read Part 1.
*~*~*~*~*
The first thing that I want to mention in this particular blog post is that I know that the majority of people have my welfare at heart at regarding things they say to me about seizures. I *know* this.
Having said that . . .
:)
. . . I would like to address a few things that have come up over the years; things that people have asked, suggested or said regarding me and seizures.
Please and thank you.
:)
And, while these are my own personal thoughts regarding my own life, perhaps they will also resonate with someone else who has had similar experiences with seizures.
*~*~*~*~*
Most people who know me already know that I am a bit anti-pharmeceutical. "A bit" is actually more than an under-statement . . . I do not even take OTC drugs; not even aspirins and other similar type pills.
I am especially anti-pharmeceutical regarding anti-seizure drugs. Occasionally, this has proven to be quite baffling to various people in my life; even after I explain my reasonings. Simply put, in the past, I have tried *many* anti-seizure drugs, and the results were not at all satisfactory; and sometimes, such results were even completely unacceptable. Since I am the one who is going to have to experience the "side effects" *along with* the inefficacy of an anti-seizure drug, I figure I'm also the one who gets to decide whether or not I take such illustrious drug. So . . . if you disagree with me on this stance, please do not treat me condescendingly because of it and please do not roll your eyes at me, scold me, criticize me or do anything else that will convey to me your disapproval regarding this very personal decision.
Case in point: The lady that was asking me intake questions and taking my vitals at the ER the other day did this very thing. She actually pulled a Dr. Phil on me; and let me tell y'all, dear friends, it was not appreciated - not at all. After telling her that I had fallen because of a seizure, she then asked me which anti-seizure drug(s) I was currently taking. When I answered that I wasn't taking any of them, she looked me up and down, stared at my injured face and then said, "And, how's that working for you?" With the exception of that one instance, she was actually a very nice person. But. This very nice person didn't know me from Eve. She didn't know my case history regarding seizures and she certainly didn't know of my research or my personal experience with anti-seizure pharms. Nor did she know how very rare it is for me to incur an injury during a seizure (I can count on one hand, with digits to spare, the number of times I have seriously hurt myself because of a seizure).
I'd like to encourage y'all to remember this example. So often it's easy for us humans to assume that we are capable of immediately ascertaining all the ins and outs of a situation; and then, we feel quite justified in offering our unsolicited expertise / opinions. But. Often, it's simply not that cut-and-dry. Often there are many factors that cannot be known "at first glance". To assume otherwise usually justs mucks up things and causes some uncomfortable moments.
*~*~*~*~*
Throughout the years, some people have assumed that stress is the cause of the seizures that I have had. Now. While it is true that stress can cause seizures in some people, it is not an across-the-board trigger; not everyone who experiences a seizure does so because of stress. Looking back on the past 26 years, I'm very confident that stress is not a seizure trigger with me. I know this because some of the most emotionally stressful times in my life have been seizure-free, plus some of the seizures I've had have throughout the years happened during incredibly peaceful and/or happy time periods. There ya go.
So! :)
When you ask me if I had a seizure because of stress and I indicate that stress isn't a seizure trigger for me, please, please, please do not noticeably disagree with me. By the way, can y'all imagine how stressful that type of conversation is? Ha!
*~*~*~*~*
How many of y'all have a physical "thing" that you deal with occasionally? C'mon. Raise your hands; don't be shy. I'll put my hand up. For me, that physical thing is a neurological disorder known as seizures. Now . . . for those of y'all that have raised your hands, how many of y'all like for people to make mention of that physical disorder, illness, etc. every time they speak to you?
Didjy'all just notice how quickly I put my hand down?
:)
May I just say right here and right now that I truly could happily live the rest of my days without ever being asked, "So, have you had a seizure recently?" (or, "When was the last time you had a seizure?")
Some of the sweetest people in my life feel that they have to ask me about seizures every time we have a conversation. I cringe when they do this. I know they are simply expressing their love and concern for me . . . I *know* this. I deeply appreciate that they do love me and that they care for me. But, I'd like to suggest that I am far more than just a seizure history. Ask me about Tex or our daughters or our grandbabies or any of our other family members. Ask me what I've created in my studio lately or what I think of the most current news item. Ask me anything; just please don't ask me for a recounting of when I last had a seizure if I haven't brought up the topic. Seizures do not define me; they are simply a pain in the patoot that I occasionaly have to deal with - and of which I have great hope that one day I will truly be seizure-free.
*~*~*~*~*
Here are a couple of tidbits that you may or may not know about seizures:
- Technically, I have epilepsy. Epilepsy is not a "cause" of seizures; it is simply an "umbrella" word for unexplained seizures; meaning there isn't a physiological reason for the seizure (i.e., diabetic seizures are not epileptic in nature because diabetic seizures are caused by diabetes). Oh, and while I technically have epilepsy, I do *not* consider myself to be an epileptic . . . I consider myself to be a human being. There ya go.
- Seizure-control via pharmeceuticals is not always possible. In fact, more than 30% of people who have epilepsy have seizures that cannot be controlled via anti-seizure drugs.
*~*~*~*~*
So. Do you have any questions regarding me and seizures? Please feel free to ask them here. I never mind questions; they're great learning tools. Truth be known, I'd much rather someone ask a question than make an assumption.
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Be blessed,
Sharmie
p.s. - One more thing, please . . . they are not "my" seizures. They are "the" seizures. Yep, semantics are important; most definitely. Want to read where I write the very same thing about 15 months ago? Click Here
Me, Myself . . . and Seizures (Part 1)
If you are one of my Facebook friends, then you probably know that I had a seizure 8 days ago - and that during this particular seizure, or rather, during the fall occurring at the onset of the seizure, I incurred at least one orbital bone fracture (a scientific and pretty way of saying I cracked a bone in my face).
I don't always announce or discuss whenever I have a seizure; but the accompanying injury of last week's seizure made it a bit unique, so I posted a prayer request on Facebook about the whole thing. And, then of course, it's also hard to go out in public with major bruises and swellings interspersed all over one's half of their face without bringing even a tiny bit of attention to themself. Yesterday, while I was picking up mail at my mailing center, I also had a package to claim. Once I got up to the counter, I believe I so unnerved the young employee helping me that I literally had to tell him what he needed to do so I could receive my parcel . . . and the entire time, he was politely trying not to "look" at me while all the time also trying to "look without looking". There ya go.
*~*~*~*~*
One of the reasons that I don't always let people know when I have a seizure is that, well, frankly, it just seems a bit weird to me to make such an announcement . . . it's not the most pleasant of topics - at least, not for me. Another reason why I choose to not always speak about whenever I've had a seizure is, well, the things that people say to me in response to learning that I've had another seizure often can be "interesting". Well-meaning, but still "interesting", none-the-less. Ironically, some of the things that I hear spoken to me regarding seizures are somewhat common; "common" in that it's usually not the first time I've heard it and the person speaking it to me is usually not the first person to say it to me, neither.
The intent of this particular blog post is two-fold: to educate y'all on how a seizure affects me and to address some of the things that have been spoken to me over the past few days (and sometimes after other seizures, as well).
While I don't particularly find it necessary to publicly proclaim a seizure event every time one happens, I have found it important to educate people about seizures; either in-person or via the wonderful world of wide webness. Because of that, some of this blog post will already be familiar to some of y'all. Liken it to a good comedy routine, if you will - comediannes will perform the same act over and over. (BTW, does anyone else other than me find it strangely curious that I am comparing seizures to a comedy act? For what it's worth, the comparison was purely unintentional).
*~*~*~*~*
Having a Seizure and Recovering from Its After-Effects
The first seizure that I remember having was back in 1987. It was a nocturnal grand mal seizure; "nocturnal" meaning that it occurred while I was asleep and "grand mal" (or "tonic-clonic") describing the type of seizure it was. Grand mals are the kind of seizures that television shows and movies love to overly-dramatize. I cringe whenever I see a grand mal seizure being acted out; truly, I absolutely cringe.
From 1987 - 2000, all of the seizures that I had were nocturnal and grand mal. Then, one day in early 2000, it was as if a switch was thrown . . . I had a waking seizure; still a grand mal, but it occurred during my waking hours. For the past 13 years, all of the seizures have been waking seizures; and I would say well over 99.99% of them have also been grand mals.
Some people have auras (warnings that a seizure is going to occur). There are myriad types of auras; in fact, auras are pretty-much distinct from person-to-person. For me the auras are very brief and only give me about a 2-second warning before the seizure actually takes place. And, it's weird. Freaky-dejavu kind of weird. The auras I experience involve my "remembering" that whatever I'm doing (at the time of the aura) is actually a seizure trigger. The "memory" of course is false; as is the impending feeling that the action is a no-no. It doesn't matter what I am doing at the time of the aura; the aura takes that information and then tells my brain that whatever I am doing is actually a seizure trigger. There's a momentary sense of panic and then there's also a momentary "call to action" where I know that I need to do something. Usually, though, by that time, the seizure has already started - and I am thankfully, rendered unconcious. I'm not being facetious neither - a grand mal seizure is a violence against the body and there are merciful reasons as to why people are unconcious when experiencing one of them.
Now. The next thing I remember is waking up . . . usually in bed. But. Given that I have not had a seizure while in bed for the past 13 years, how I end up there pretty-much remains a mystery to me. I have never been able to remember the time period of a seizure beginning from the aura until when I wake up in bed. I like to think that angels are sent to minister to and take care of me during this time period. And yes, the vast majority of seizures that I have had have occurred while I've been by myself (or while I was among people, just not in their direct vision.)
There are actually a few "waking ups" after a seizure. The "first one" that I remember (as mentioned above) is probably actually "the second one", with regards to "coming to" after the seizure. But no matter, that particular waking up is also like a re-booting for me. It's then that I have to figure out the most basic of information; i.e, I have to discern who I am, where I am and even when I am - down to my age, and year. Often I'm unable to pinpoint the day, the month or even the season without help. I will also call Tex during this time-period and let him know that I have had a seizure. It amazes me that in all of the after-seizure fogginess that I experience at this point that I am able to even ascertain who Tex is and which phone number is his. After I re-boot, I pretty-much pass out again and will sleep anywhere from a few to several hours. When I wake up the next time, I will realize how very sore I am; especially in my arms, legs, back and neck. It will take a couple of days for me to be able to walk normally and without pain. It will probably also take a few days for me to be able to speak clearly, swallow comfortably and chew solid foods (I do a number on the inside of my mouth during a seizure - it's not fun).
Over the years, I have noticed a type of depression that occurs after a seizure. It usually begins the next day after a seizure; and it hits hard - and always unexpected . . . until I remember that this is "normal" for after a seizure. Ick. I have to fight very diligently against the depression. I can usually come out of it within a day or two; but going through the depression itself can feel almost staggering.
I attribute the depression to two things: (1) I believe that the majority of the depression is chemical in nature. Afterall, a seizure is simply a chemical misfiring within the brain. It stands to reason, then, that the chemical misfiring would cause a chemical upheaval and commotion, depression-wise. (2) I'm sure that a small fraction of the depression is emotional in nature. In all honesty, I abhor seizures. There's nothing at all that I like about them; and in the days following a seizure where I am still trying to overcome all of the after-effects, it can get a bit daunting and overwhelming. But. As much as I abhor seizure, I loathe pity-parties even more . . . and especially so when I'm the hostess of such a blowout. I simply do not see any value at all in pity-parties; I'd much rather focus on the vast number of things for which I can express gratitude . . . and if you know me well, then you know that I also like to encourage people to do the same in their own lives. Living a grateful life is much more meaningful and abundant than living an ungrateful life. There ya go.
*~*~*~*~*
I thought when I started this blog post that it would be one post and that would be that. But, alas . . . that will not be the case.
My next blog entry will deal specifically with how people have responded to me, seizure-wise . . . and likewise, my general, thoughts, feelings and outlooks to such responses. My hope is that I will be able to educate, explain and even encourage.
Thanks for reading!
And, as always, your comments and/or questions are certainly welcomed and appreciated.
Y'all be blessed,
Sharmie
I don't always announce or discuss whenever I have a seizure; but the accompanying injury of last week's seizure made it a bit unique, so I posted a prayer request on Facebook about the whole thing. And, then of course, it's also hard to go out in public with major bruises and swellings interspersed all over one's half of their face without bringing even a tiny bit of attention to themself. Yesterday, while I was picking up mail at my mailing center, I also had a package to claim. Once I got up to the counter, I believe I so unnerved the young employee helping me that I literally had to tell him what he needed to do so I could receive my parcel . . . and the entire time, he was politely trying not to "look" at me while all the time also trying to "look without looking". There ya go.
*~*~*~*~*
One of the reasons that I don't always let people know when I have a seizure is that, well, frankly, it just seems a bit weird to me to make such an announcement . . . it's not the most pleasant of topics - at least, not for me. Another reason why I choose to not always speak about whenever I've had a seizure is, well, the things that people say to me in response to learning that I've had another seizure often can be "interesting". Well-meaning, but still "interesting", none-the-less. Ironically, some of the things that I hear spoken to me regarding seizures are somewhat common; "common" in that it's usually not the first time I've heard it and the person speaking it to me is usually not the first person to say it to me, neither.
The intent of this particular blog post is two-fold: to educate y'all on how a seizure affects me and to address some of the things that have been spoken to me over the past few days (and sometimes after other seizures, as well).
While I don't particularly find it necessary to publicly proclaim a seizure event every time one happens, I have found it important to educate people about seizures; either in-person or via the wonderful world of wide webness. Because of that, some of this blog post will already be familiar to some of y'all. Liken it to a good comedy routine, if you will - comediannes will perform the same act over and over. (BTW, does anyone else other than me find it strangely curious that I am comparing seizures to a comedy act? For what it's worth, the comparison was purely unintentional).
*~*~*~*~*
Having a Seizure and Recovering from Its After-Effects
The first seizure that I remember having was back in 1987. It was a nocturnal grand mal seizure; "nocturnal" meaning that it occurred while I was asleep and "grand mal" (or "tonic-clonic") describing the type of seizure it was. Grand mals are the kind of seizures that television shows and movies love to overly-dramatize. I cringe whenever I see a grand mal seizure being acted out; truly, I absolutely cringe.
From 1987 - 2000, all of the seizures that I had were nocturnal and grand mal. Then, one day in early 2000, it was as if a switch was thrown . . . I had a waking seizure; still a grand mal, but it occurred during my waking hours. For the past 13 years, all of the seizures have been waking seizures; and I would say well over 99.99% of them have also been grand mals.
Some people have auras (warnings that a seizure is going to occur). There are myriad types of auras; in fact, auras are pretty-much distinct from person-to-person. For me the auras are very brief and only give me about a 2-second warning before the seizure actually takes place. And, it's weird. Freaky-dejavu kind of weird. The auras I experience involve my "remembering" that whatever I'm doing (at the time of the aura) is actually a seizure trigger. The "memory" of course is false; as is the impending feeling that the action is a no-no. It doesn't matter what I am doing at the time of the aura; the aura takes that information and then tells my brain that whatever I am doing is actually a seizure trigger. There's a momentary sense of panic and then there's also a momentary "call to action" where I know that I need to do something. Usually, though, by that time, the seizure has already started - and I am thankfully, rendered unconcious. I'm not being facetious neither - a grand mal seizure is a violence against the body and there are merciful reasons as to why people are unconcious when experiencing one of them.
Now. The next thing I remember is waking up . . . usually in bed. But. Given that I have not had a seizure while in bed for the past 13 years, how I end up there pretty-much remains a mystery to me. I have never been able to remember the time period of a seizure beginning from the aura until when I wake up in bed. I like to think that angels are sent to minister to and take care of me during this time period. And yes, the vast majority of seizures that I have had have occurred while I've been by myself (or while I was among people, just not in their direct vision.)
There are actually a few "waking ups" after a seizure. The "first one" that I remember (as mentioned above) is probably actually "the second one", with regards to "coming to" after the seizure. But no matter, that particular waking up is also like a re-booting for me. It's then that I have to figure out the most basic of information; i.e, I have to discern who I am, where I am and even when I am - down to my age, and year. Often I'm unable to pinpoint the day, the month or even the season without help. I will also call Tex during this time-period and let him know that I have had a seizure. It amazes me that in all of the after-seizure fogginess that I experience at this point that I am able to even ascertain who Tex is and which phone number is his. After I re-boot, I pretty-much pass out again and will sleep anywhere from a few to several hours. When I wake up the next time, I will realize how very sore I am; especially in my arms, legs, back and neck. It will take a couple of days for me to be able to walk normally and without pain. It will probably also take a few days for me to be able to speak clearly, swallow comfortably and chew solid foods (I do a number on the inside of my mouth during a seizure - it's not fun).
Over the years, I have noticed a type of depression that occurs after a seizure. It usually begins the next day after a seizure; and it hits hard - and always unexpected . . . until I remember that this is "normal" for after a seizure. Ick. I have to fight very diligently against the depression. I can usually come out of it within a day or two; but going through the depression itself can feel almost staggering.
I attribute the depression to two things: (1) I believe that the majority of the depression is chemical in nature. Afterall, a seizure is simply a chemical misfiring within the brain. It stands to reason, then, that the chemical misfiring would cause a chemical upheaval and commotion, depression-wise. (2) I'm sure that a small fraction of the depression is emotional in nature. In all honesty, I abhor seizures. There's nothing at all that I like about them; and in the days following a seizure where I am still trying to overcome all of the after-effects, it can get a bit daunting and overwhelming. But. As much as I abhor seizure, I loathe pity-parties even more . . . and especially so when I'm the hostess of such a blowout. I simply do not see any value at all in pity-parties; I'd much rather focus on the vast number of things for which I can express gratitude . . . and if you know me well, then you know that I also like to encourage people to do the same in their own lives. Living a grateful life is much more meaningful and abundant than living an ungrateful life. There ya go.
*~*~*~*~*
I thought when I started this blog post that it would be one post and that would be that. But, alas . . . that will not be the case.
My next blog entry will deal specifically with how people have responded to me, seizure-wise . . . and likewise, my general, thoughts, feelings and outlooks to such responses. My hope is that I will be able to educate, explain and even encourage.
Thanks for reading!
And, as always, your comments and/or questions are certainly welcomed and appreciated.
Y'all be blessed,
Sharmie
Monday, July 1, 2013
The Living Years
"I wasn't there that morning when my father passed away
I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say." (from, "The Living Years", Mike + The Mechanics)
Last week brought the 23rd anniversary of my father's death.
I remember that I was at work when I got the news. Suddenly, I was left to make decisions that I had never really seriously considered prior to that. Funeral arrangements had to be made, along with other tasks that usually follows the death of a loved one. I was 26. In light of the responsibilities that I encountered at that time, that seems so young to me now - such a long time ago; and in other ways, almost as if it were yesterday. Time's a funny thing, doncha know.
As the song says, I didn't get to tell my dad all the things I had to say to him.
BUT. The blessing that will forever be a blessing is that we had started down that path of trying to understand each other. We both had made conscious, determined efforts to come together again; and we had begun that journey about a year prior to his death. I've always recgonized this as such a tremendous blessing. In fact, if I may . . . while the coroner, the police and I were in the house with Dad, with neigbors milling around in the yard, I remember silently thanking Our Lord that Dad and I had mended our relationship with each other before he died.
My mother had died 16 years prior to my dad's death. I was 10. One very poignant memory for me surrounding that time was, while still in church at my mother's funeral mass, the priest leaned over to say something to me as I sat in the pew. He whispered to me that it was ok to cry; that I didn't have to hold the tears in. It was then that I quickly learned that people were expecting me to be sad. But. I wasn't sad. I was worried for my father. Even though he was publicly putting on a brave, stoic face, his grief was so very evident to me. But, for me personally, I felt no grief, no sadness; only relief. Finally, her abuse towards me had come to an end; she would never be able to hurt me again.
So many life-shaping events happened in the time frame between both of my parents' deaths; too much to even try to relate here in this one particular blog post.
Both of my parents were alcoholics. Drinking simply was something that had always been around me; even from my earliest memories. I don't know this for certain; but I suspect that they were both heavy drinkers even before they first met . . . which, was about 15-18 years prior to when I came along (they were actually my grandparents; they adopted me when I was an infant).
While I was growing up, they were "functioning alcoholics"; I imagine that no one really ever suspected the amount of alcohol being consumed at our house. And speaking of the house, we lived in a nice middle class house, out in the country. The bills were paid, the clothes were clean, the house was tidy, there was food in the fridge, two vehicles in the driveway and always a dog playing in the yard, along with chickens, rabbits, a goat and a garden. Who could have known that things weren't really as they appeared?
After my mother died, Dad and I were left with each other. Neither one of us did very well in that regard. He became more and more immersed in the bottle, and I responded to that in myriad ways; none of them being very good choices, some of them being extremely unwise.
We both were living reactionary lives. Even my mother had lived a reactionary life. Growing up being abused herself, she then became the abuser. Children live what they learn. This can be good or not. Regarding the not so good, when left unexamined, the children then grow up to repeat what they learned as a child.
On the other side of things, my father had a long, successful military career. He was a fighter pilot in 3 wars (WWII, Korea & Vietanam) and had also been decorated. He retired from the Navy as Lieutenant Commander. After he retired, he continued to teach flight training to new, up-and-coming Naval pilots.
I also know that one of the reasons why he chose to drink was to drown out the horrors of those wars. The dichotomy of it all.
Our own relationship with each was also such a paradox. During my teenage years, he and I had a very tumultuous relationship with each other; and it truly is a wonder that we hung in there with each other. But. The one thing I always knew about my dad was that he would never physically hurt me; and for me, that was a rarity.
Earlier, above, I alluded to the importance of living an examined life. When I entered my 20's, I knew I was seriously in need of some very intense life scrutiny on my part. I asked my dad to pay for counseling sessions, which he did. Actually, I very sanctimoniously demanded that he foot the counseling bills, and also sharply accused him that he was one of the reasons why I needed counseling in the first place.. Sigh. The arrogance of it all. While I spoke the truth, it was nowhere near kind nor gracious.
But. That was the beginning of our being able to come together, to forgive each other and to realize that we truly did love each other.
About a year prior to his death, I asked Dad to come to one of the counseling appointments with me. It was then and there that I told him of the physical abuse from my mother and from various other people as well. It was then that I also revealed the sexual abuse I had endured as a toddler from "trusted" male babysitters.
And. He believed me.
While everything I told him was true, I still wasn't certain he would be willing to accept it as being true. But, he did. I don't think I'll ever be able to express just exactly what that meant to me.
*~*~*~*~*
"I wasn't there that morning when my father passed away
I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say."
I told my dad many things while he was alive. Boy, did he get an earful - and then some. He heard my anger and my disgust. He heard my disrespect and my vehemence.
Thankfully, later on (during the year before he died) he also heard how much I loved him and how very thankful I was that he never gave up on me.
My mother was, in reality, my maternal grandmother; but Dad and I weren't even blood relatives. He was actually my step grandfather - my maternal grandmother's second husband. He adopted me, he raised me . . . AND he loved me - as his very own. And when things got tough between us, he was still my dad.
What I wish I would have also told Dad was how proud I was of him; flaws and all. I never told him that. I can only hope that Our Lord conveyed it to him before he died.
*~*~*~*~*
That year before he died . . . there was much reconcilliation and forgiveness between the two of us. 1989 is truly one of my most cherished years; it was the year that Dad and I started really reaching out to each other again.
And, just to let y'all know, I have also been able to forgive not only my mother but all the other people who had hurt me in one way or another when I was growing up. How can I not forgive them? For you see, I, they, all of us . . . we all make mistakes; sometimes very grievious ones at that. But. When we look beyond the surface and try to truly see someone, we often learn so very much. To hold onto bitterness and hurt does no one any good; not them and certainly not us. Forgiveness, on the other hand, can open doors to tremendous peace, joy and love; truly it can.
Thanks for reading y'all;,
Sharmie
*~*~*~*~*
p.s. - I hadn't planned on writing about Dad's death anniversary this year - life truly is for the living, afterall. I do automatically remember the date; it's just part of who I am . . . but I remember with a happy heart, not a sad one.
While zooming through YouTube this morning, I came upon, "The Living Years". The year that Dad died, this song was burning up the radio waves. It soon became intricately connected with Dad's death . . . to this day, the two are one. It also became a wonderful "safe place" for me while grieving and healing from his passing.
Please listen to the words of this song; they are so very powerful and can be applied to any relationship.
Y'all be most abundantly blessed!
"The Living Years" (Mike + The Mechanics)
I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say." (from, "The Living Years", Mike + The Mechanics)
Last week brought the 23rd anniversary of my father's death.
I remember that I was at work when I got the news. Suddenly, I was left to make decisions that I had never really seriously considered prior to that. Funeral arrangements had to be made, along with other tasks that usually follows the death of a loved one. I was 26. In light of the responsibilities that I encountered at that time, that seems so young to me now - such a long time ago; and in other ways, almost as if it were yesterday. Time's a funny thing, doncha know.
As the song says, I didn't get to tell my dad all the things I had to say to him.
BUT. The blessing that will forever be a blessing is that we had started down that path of trying to understand each other. We both had made conscious, determined efforts to come together again; and we had begun that journey about a year prior to his death. I've always recgonized this as such a tremendous blessing. In fact, if I may . . . while the coroner, the police and I were in the house with Dad, with neigbors milling around in the yard, I remember silently thanking Our Lord that Dad and I had mended our relationship with each other before he died.
My mother had died 16 years prior to my dad's death. I was 10. One very poignant memory for me surrounding that time was, while still in church at my mother's funeral mass, the priest leaned over to say something to me as I sat in the pew. He whispered to me that it was ok to cry; that I didn't have to hold the tears in. It was then that I quickly learned that people were expecting me to be sad. But. I wasn't sad. I was worried for my father. Even though he was publicly putting on a brave, stoic face, his grief was so very evident to me. But, for me personally, I felt no grief, no sadness; only relief. Finally, her abuse towards me had come to an end; she would never be able to hurt me again.
So many life-shaping events happened in the time frame between both of my parents' deaths; too much to even try to relate here in this one particular blog post.
Both of my parents were alcoholics. Drinking simply was something that had always been around me; even from my earliest memories. I don't know this for certain; but I suspect that they were both heavy drinkers even before they first met . . . which, was about 15-18 years prior to when I came along (they were actually my grandparents; they adopted me when I was an infant).
While I was growing up, they were "functioning alcoholics"; I imagine that no one really ever suspected the amount of alcohol being consumed at our house. And speaking of the house, we lived in a nice middle class house, out in the country. The bills were paid, the clothes were clean, the house was tidy, there was food in the fridge, two vehicles in the driveway and always a dog playing in the yard, along with chickens, rabbits, a goat and a garden. Who could have known that things weren't really as they appeared?
After my mother died, Dad and I were left with each other. Neither one of us did very well in that regard. He became more and more immersed in the bottle, and I responded to that in myriad ways; none of them being very good choices, some of them being extremely unwise.
We both were living reactionary lives. Even my mother had lived a reactionary life. Growing up being abused herself, she then became the abuser. Children live what they learn. This can be good or not. Regarding the not so good, when left unexamined, the children then grow up to repeat what they learned as a child.
On the other side of things, my father had a long, successful military career. He was a fighter pilot in 3 wars (WWII, Korea & Vietanam) and had also been decorated. He retired from the Navy as Lieutenant Commander. After he retired, he continued to teach flight training to new, up-and-coming Naval pilots.
I also know that one of the reasons why he chose to drink was to drown out the horrors of those wars. The dichotomy of it all.
Our own relationship with each was also such a paradox. During my teenage years, he and I had a very tumultuous relationship with each other; and it truly is a wonder that we hung in there with each other. But. The one thing I always knew about my dad was that he would never physically hurt me; and for me, that was a rarity.
Earlier, above, I alluded to the importance of living an examined life. When I entered my 20's, I knew I was seriously in need of some very intense life scrutiny on my part. I asked my dad to pay for counseling sessions, which he did. Actually, I very sanctimoniously demanded that he foot the counseling bills, and also sharply accused him that he was one of the reasons why I needed counseling in the first place.. Sigh. The arrogance of it all. While I spoke the truth, it was nowhere near kind nor gracious.
But. That was the beginning of our being able to come together, to forgive each other and to realize that we truly did love each other.
About a year prior to his death, I asked Dad to come to one of the counseling appointments with me. It was then and there that I told him of the physical abuse from my mother and from various other people as well. It was then that I also revealed the sexual abuse I had endured as a toddler from "trusted" male babysitters.
And. He believed me.
While everything I told him was true, I still wasn't certain he would be willing to accept it as being true. But, he did. I don't think I'll ever be able to express just exactly what that meant to me.
*~*~*~*~*
"I wasn't there that morning when my father passed away
I didn't get to tell him all the things I had to say."
I told my dad many things while he was alive. Boy, did he get an earful - and then some. He heard my anger and my disgust. He heard my disrespect and my vehemence.
Thankfully, later on (during the year before he died) he also heard how much I loved him and how very thankful I was that he never gave up on me.
My mother was, in reality, my maternal grandmother; but Dad and I weren't even blood relatives. He was actually my step grandfather - my maternal grandmother's second husband. He adopted me, he raised me . . . AND he loved me - as his very own. And when things got tough between us, he was still my dad.
What I wish I would have also told Dad was how proud I was of him; flaws and all. I never told him that. I can only hope that Our Lord conveyed it to him before he died.
*~*~*~*~*
That year before he died . . . there was much reconcilliation and forgiveness between the two of us. 1989 is truly one of my most cherished years; it was the year that Dad and I started really reaching out to each other again.
And, just to let y'all know, I have also been able to forgive not only my mother but all the other people who had hurt me in one way or another when I was growing up. How can I not forgive them? For you see, I, they, all of us . . . we all make mistakes; sometimes very grievious ones at that. But. When we look beyond the surface and try to truly see someone, we often learn so very much. To hold onto bitterness and hurt does no one any good; not them and certainly not us. Forgiveness, on the other hand, can open doors to tremendous peace, joy and love; truly it can.
Thanks for reading y'all;,
Sharmie
*~*~*~*~*
p.s. - I hadn't planned on writing about Dad's death anniversary this year - life truly is for the living, afterall. I do automatically remember the date; it's just part of who I am . . . but I remember with a happy heart, not a sad one.
While zooming through YouTube this morning, I came upon, "The Living Years". The year that Dad died, this song was burning up the radio waves. It soon became intricately connected with Dad's death . . . to this day, the two are one. It also became a wonderful "safe place" for me while grieving and healing from his passing.
Please listen to the words of this song; they are so very powerful and can be applied to any relationship.
Y'all be most abundantly blessed!
"The Living Years" (Mike + The Mechanics)
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Whom Do You Praise?
As I go through my newsfeed over at Facebook Land, I often see posts from some of my Christian friends talking about what the the father of lies (the devil) is doing in their lives (i.e, "I'm under attack from satan", The devil is messing with my life", "I must be doing something right; satan sure is mad at me", etc., etc., etc.).
Additionally, as I go through a day, a week, any time-frame, really, I often am privy to other similar offline conversations, as well. Granted, not all Christians do this; but it does seem to be a very common practice.
Frankly, this strange behavior has *always* bothered me. If Christians are followers of Christ, shouldn't they, instead, be talking about what Christ is doing in their lives?
I wrote the following the other day as a comment to one of y'all's blogs that I read. It sums up pretty well my feelings and opinion of whom Christians should be discussing regarding what's going on in their lives. I share it here now, with y'all. :)
*~*~*~*~*
I can understand how easy it is for people to focus more on the abilities of the father of lies than they do regarding Our Lord’s Majesty. Sure, satan can really muck up our lives – IF we let him; if we believe his lies. I personally prefer to remember that he is already defeated and that he will *always* be defeated; even (and especially) through Eternity. There’s an awesome security in knowing that he simply cannot hurt me; not in any manner that means anything. In fact, on the rare times that I do refer to satan (such as discussions like these), I intentionally refer to him as the defeated one; because that’s exactly what he is.
It’s not so much what other people do or say (or don’t do / don’t say) that shapes our lives; it’s our response to them (or any situation) that is what’s really important. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own lives. Having said that, each of us should also strive to treat people the way that Jesus would have us treat them. Sometimes people (anyone) can miss the mark on that – BUT, that doesn’t negate that ultimately we (and no one else) are responsible for our own lives.
Also, do we listen to the lies from the defeated one or do we turn our focus and attention to Our Lord? Do we praise the defeated one by talking about what all he’s doing in our life (because that’s exactly what it is to his ears; anytime we talk about what satan can do or is doing, we’re giving him praise) – OR do we choose to praise Our Lord instead, and to stand on His Word?
In Ephesians, Our Lord gives us specific instructions as to how to stand firm against the defeated one: “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of Peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.” (Ephesians 6:10-18)
Here’s to standing firm in Our Lord’s Peace and Joy!
Be blessed,
Sharmie
Additionally, as I go through a day, a week, any time-frame, really, I often am privy to other similar offline conversations, as well. Granted, not all Christians do this; but it does seem to be a very common practice.
Frankly, this strange behavior has *always* bothered me. If Christians are followers of Christ, shouldn't they, instead, be talking about what Christ is doing in their lives?
I wrote the following the other day as a comment to one of y'all's blogs that I read. It sums up pretty well my feelings and opinion of whom Christians should be discussing regarding what's going on in their lives. I share it here now, with y'all. :)
*~*~*~*~*
I can understand how easy it is for people to focus more on the abilities of the father of lies than they do regarding Our Lord’s Majesty. Sure, satan can really muck up our lives – IF we let him; if we believe his lies. I personally prefer to remember that he is already defeated and that he will *always* be defeated; even (and especially) through Eternity. There’s an awesome security in knowing that he simply cannot hurt me; not in any manner that means anything. In fact, on the rare times that I do refer to satan (such as discussions like these), I intentionally refer to him as the defeated one; because that’s exactly what he is.
It’s not so much what other people do or say (or don’t do / don’t say) that shapes our lives; it’s our response to them (or any situation) that is what’s really important. Ultimately, we are responsible for our own lives. Having said that, each of us should also strive to treat people the way that Jesus would have us treat them. Sometimes people (anyone) can miss the mark on that – BUT, that doesn’t negate that ultimately we (and no one else) are responsible for our own lives.
Also, do we listen to the lies from the defeated one or do we turn our focus and attention to Our Lord? Do we praise the defeated one by talking about what all he’s doing in our life (because that’s exactly what it is to his ears; anytime we talk about what satan can do or is doing, we’re giving him praise) – OR do we choose to praise Our Lord instead, and to stand on His Word?
In Ephesians, Our Lord gives us specific instructions as to how to stand firm against the defeated one: “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the Gospel of Peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.” (Ephesians 6:10-18)
Here’s to standing firm in Our Lord’s Peace and Joy!
Be blessed,
Sharmie
Monday, May 13, 2013
Instant Communication
Note: This post will probably step on some toes. It's not meant to do so. It *is* meant to offer another perspective; one that is, hopefully, also laced with encouragement. There ya go. :)
We are at a period in time when some of us still remember life before electronic communication. Fiddle. There are even some of us (though, admittedly, far fewer in number, who can remember that a telephone was a luxury and not every single home - much less every single person - had such a device).
Before electronic communication (emails, IMs, Pms, texts and the like), people kept up with their long-distance friends through postal mail (long-distance phone calls were very costly; and not considered a way of life back then). Sometimes several weeks would pass before one friend replied to the other; it just depended on what else was going on in the writer's life during that time specific period as to how expedient they would be able to reply.
Part of that was that correspondence used to be an art; or at least, an event to be savoured.
I like that. I like being able to sit down, relaxed and completely unrushed and focus my attention completely on whomever I am writing to at the moment. I like being able to have moments of memories regarding the recipeint of my note. It's almost the next best thing to be there with them. I also realize that many of y'all are probably staring at your computer screen and asking me just exactly when you are going to be able to find the time to do this. I get that; it's a busier world today than it was yesterday. But, nonetheless, I still like thinking of keeping in touch as an event to be savoured; even if the event last just only minutes.
("Moments of memories" - y'all like that? I just made that up. At least I think I just made it up; who knows; the web of world wideness might be filled with that phrase. That's how it goes; everytime I think I'm creating something original via my words, I find out that it's already been created and breathing on its own. Fiddle).
*~*~*~*~*
Today, firmly ensconced in the Information Age, we can access any type of information in mere seconds. This speed of transmission also applies to how quickly we can communicate with each other.
And . . .
. . . It also has changed our perspective on how quickly others should respond back to us. We have become an impatient society; wanting our replies from others to arrive at the speed of light. When the replies do not come quickly enough, we take offense and receive hurt feelings where none of neither was offered in the first place. We imagine various scenarios as to why the other person hasn't yet responded; all usually pointing at some type of negativity that we know they must be feeling toward us. "We", of course, is generic; "we", in this instant, truly doesn't apply to me; and kudos to you if it doesn't apply to you, neither.
I'm not talking about business and customer service. I do believe that businesses should be prompt in replying to inquiries, complaints, et al (however, I also do recognize that there should also be a reasonable time period allowed for such replies; and that time period is *not* instantaneous). However, as I mentioned, this post is not about the business world.
This post *is* about the personal communications we have with each other; whether those communiques are via emails, PMs, IMs, texts or other similar such zooming-fast avenues.
Over the years, I have periodically received an electronic communication wherein the sender either asked me if they have offended me or apologized for doing so and/or both - asked about and apologized for an offense . . . when no offense was even perceived on my part. The motive behind these notes? I had not yet responded to their note they sent to me. My memory can recall at least three separate times (with different people each time) where I have received such curious correspondence. Since three times is the charm (as the saying goes) I've decided it's time for this post.
What's most puzzling is that those notes in question were sent maybe a day prior (if, even that long) to my receiving the writer's next note wondering if they had offended me; sometimes mere hours had passed before the question of offence was brought up. When I then ask them why they think they've offended me, they then tell me because I haven't responded to their note yet. Just to be clear, we are not talking about emails or PMs that carry any type of urgency with them, nor are we talking about notes wherein there was already pre-existing friction between the writer and me; the notes in question were not time-sensitive nor urgent in any way.
Sigh.
Heavy sigh.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Repeat. Breathe in. Slowly. Now, breathe out. Slowly.
Now. Repeat this 3 more times.
I had to take a moment to decompress. Thank you for bearing with me (and perhaps, you, too, took your own moment to bring relaxation back into your life, as well).
Have we become that impatient as a society that all correspondence must be answered immediately? Or, is it not impatience that fuels such uncertainty, but perhaps insecurity? I ponder that last part because of various things I read on people's Facebook walls that clearly show their insecurity regarding their relationships with people as a whole (but, again, that's a whole other topic, for another day).
Either way, may I tell y'all, dear friends, that the outcome for the recipient (being me) of such notes is usally some type of stress; regardless as to whether the notes were fueled by impatience or insecurity, or even both. If prior to the "original" note, there wasn't any friction between us, why create some by writing the second note wondering if I have been offended because I haven't immediately answered your first note?
Can y'all see how that would be frustrating; especially given the short time frame between when the first note was written and then the second note written? Why borrow trouble where none exists?
*~*~*~*~*
So! Here are some reasons as to why I might not respond to your note to me right away:
*~*~*~*~*
One more thing, y'all . . . I've received several electronic messages over the past few days. If you are among this specific group of wonderful people, please, please, please do not assume that I'm talking about YOU in this post. And while there's only been one of y'all recently that has asked if they have offended me, know that I'm not talking only to you. You, my charming friend, may have been the catalyst for this blog entry (being the charm of the third time and all that, doncha know), but I am *not* singling you out; you just gave me great fodder for this post. :)
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Be blessed, relax, practice patience and take time to savor.
In other words. . . Chill, babycakes!
:)
~~Sharmie
We are at a period in time when some of us still remember life before electronic communication. Fiddle. There are even some of us (though, admittedly, far fewer in number, who can remember that a telephone was a luxury and not every single home - much less every single person - had such a device).
Before electronic communication (emails, IMs, Pms, texts and the like), people kept up with their long-distance friends through postal mail (long-distance phone calls were very costly; and not considered a way of life back then). Sometimes several weeks would pass before one friend replied to the other; it just depended on what else was going on in the writer's life during that time specific period as to how expedient they would be able to reply.
Part of that was that correspondence used to be an art; or at least, an event to be savoured.
I like that. I like being able to sit down, relaxed and completely unrushed and focus my attention completely on whomever I am writing to at the moment. I like being able to have moments of memories regarding the recipeint of my note. It's almost the next best thing to be there with them. I also realize that many of y'all are probably staring at your computer screen and asking me just exactly when you are going to be able to find the time to do this. I get that; it's a busier world today than it was yesterday. But, nonetheless, I still like thinking of keeping in touch as an event to be savoured; even if the event last just only minutes.
("Moments of memories" - y'all like that? I just made that up. At least I think I just made it up; who knows; the web of world wideness might be filled with that phrase. That's how it goes; everytime I think I'm creating something original via my words, I find out that it's already been created and breathing on its own. Fiddle).
*~*~*~*~*
Today, firmly ensconced in the Information Age, we can access any type of information in mere seconds. This speed of transmission also applies to how quickly we can communicate with each other.
And . . .
. . . It also has changed our perspective on how quickly others should respond back to us. We have become an impatient society; wanting our replies from others to arrive at the speed of light. When the replies do not come quickly enough, we take offense and receive hurt feelings where none of neither was offered in the first place. We imagine various scenarios as to why the other person hasn't yet responded; all usually pointing at some type of negativity that we know they must be feeling toward us. "We", of course, is generic; "we", in this instant, truly doesn't apply to me; and kudos to you if it doesn't apply to you, neither.
I'm not talking about business and customer service. I do believe that businesses should be prompt in replying to inquiries, complaints, et al (however, I also do recognize that there should also be a reasonable time period allowed for such replies; and that time period is *not* instantaneous). However, as I mentioned, this post is not about the business world.
This post *is* about the personal communications we have with each other; whether those communiques are via emails, PMs, IMs, texts or other similar such zooming-fast avenues.
Over the years, I have periodically received an electronic communication wherein the sender either asked me if they have offended me or apologized for doing so and/or both - asked about and apologized for an offense . . . when no offense was even perceived on my part. The motive behind these notes? I had not yet responded to their note they sent to me. My memory can recall at least three separate times (with different people each time) where I have received such curious correspondence. Since three times is the charm (as the saying goes) I've decided it's time for this post.
What's most puzzling is that those notes in question were sent maybe a day prior (if, even that long) to my receiving the writer's next note wondering if they had offended me; sometimes mere hours had passed before the question of offence was brought up. When I then ask them why they think they've offended me, they then tell me because I haven't responded to their note yet. Just to be clear, we are not talking about emails or PMs that carry any type of urgency with them, nor are we talking about notes wherein there was already pre-existing friction between the writer and me; the notes in question were not time-sensitive nor urgent in any way.
Sigh.
Heavy sigh.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Repeat. Breathe in. Slowly. Now, breathe out. Slowly.
Now. Repeat this 3 more times.
I had to take a moment to decompress. Thank you for bearing with me (and perhaps, you, too, took your own moment to bring relaxation back into your life, as well).
Have we become that impatient as a society that all correspondence must be answered immediately? Or, is it not impatience that fuels such uncertainty, but perhaps insecurity? I ponder that last part because of various things I read on people's Facebook walls that clearly show their insecurity regarding their relationships with people as a whole (but, again, that's a whole other topic, for another day).
Either way, may I tell y'all, dear friends, that the outcome for the recipient (being me) of such notes is usally some type of stress; regardless as to whether the notes were fueled by impatience or insecurity, or even both. If prior to the "original" note, there wasn't any friction between us, why create some by writing the second note wondering if I have been offended because I haven't immediately answered your first note?
Can y'all see how that would be frustrating; especially given the short time frame between when the first note was written and then the second note written? Why borrow trouble where none exists?
*~*~*~*~*
So! Here are some reasons as to why I might not respond to your note to me right away:
- I may be time-pressed. I might have time to read a note, but not have the time to respond. Nature might have called. The puppy girls might have come bounding up to me with tales to tell me of their outside adventures. Tex might have come home (and, yeah . . . pretty-much, when Tex is home and is not working on his thesis or out weeding the flower beds or anything else that doesn't involve me, we are probably going to be together, focusing our time on each other). Perhaps, grandbabies or great nephews and/or nieces or even non-familial babies entered the picture at that moment (yep, if a baby is around me, I'm definitely going to be immersed in his / her world, along, most definitely, with the awesome adults of whomever brought the babies to see me). Maybe, I needed to turn my attention to things of the kitchen. Perhaps there's a knock on the door and the person whose knocking either wants to award me an obscene amount of free cash or they want to name a new country after me. Fiddle. The reasons for being time-pressed are as many and as varied as there are shades of color.
- One of the main reasons why I don't respond immediately to an electronic communication is that sometimes, my response to your note requires thought and contemplation. I'll think about the contents of your note to me while I go through my day(s); and then when I'm ready to respond, I will.
- Now. Admittedly, there are times when I do let an email or a PM slip by with too much time before answering. But that doesn't mean that I'm offended; it just means that either I'm forgetful or busy (or both). Please don't automatically assume I'm over here, in my little corner of the world, nursing hurt feelings because of something that you've written (especially when the intent of your note was completely void of anything like that). Really. Don't do that. Don't do that to me *AND* don't do that to yourself. If I feel someone is being offensive to me (and especially, if it's out of their character to do so), I'm pretty capable of asking for clarification before assuming that an offense was intended. And, even if an offense was taken (regardless as to whether it was intended or not, you can bet your boots that my personal preference will be to work it through with you; not to go on silent mode. But. Either of those two scenarious (asking for clarification or working through a rough patch with a friend) will often also require thought and/or time before I respond. I'm not a "fly off with my fingers" kind of communicator (yeah, sometimes I do that with my mouth, but definitely not with the written word). If too much time has gone by and you haven't received a reply from me yet, don't be shy about giving me a gentle nudge / reminder. But. Please let that timeframe be at least a few days. And, remember, please don't automatically assume that you have offended me and now owe me an apology. (Speaking of apologies, I receive waaaay more apologies from people than I think are required; regardless as to why the apology is proffered. Rarely, rarely, rarely do I think someone owes me an apology. Ironically, sometimes when I do think an apology to me is truly appropriate, it is not forthcoming. Go figure. We're a crazy, mixed up bunch, we humans - and I'm including myself that time in this particular "we". And just as an FYI, frankly, I'm much more ok with the apologies that never come versus the multitude of extraneous apologies that are given so freely. Please don't apologize your life away.)
*~*~*~*~*
One more thing, y'all . . . I've received several electronic messages over the past few days. If you are among this specific group of wonderful people, please, please, please do not assume that I'm talking about YOU in this post. And while there's only been one of y'all recently that has asked if they have offended me, know that I'm not talking only to you. You, my charming friend, may have been the catalyst for this blog entry (being the charm of the third time and all that, doncha know), but I am *not* singling you out; you just gave me great fodder for this post. :)
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Be blessed, relax, practice patience and take time to savor.
In other words. . . Chill, babycakes!
:)
~~Sharmie
Friday, May 10, 2013
Gentle reminders
I love life lessons that are wrapped in gentle subtleness. I've been blessed to receive a few such gifts lately; for me, they have been very profound and quite timely.
*~*~*~*~*
A few weeks ago, I was visiting our youngest daughter, her husband and their two kids (my two youngest heart captors, otherwise known as grandbabies). Allow me to share a couple of incidents that happened that have affected me on a deeply personal level.
One day, Little Miss was running around the carport. She's 3.5 years old; that's what she does. She's a very agile, nimble and an incredibly active little girl. Quite vivacious. Absolutely loves life. Suddenly, Little Miss tripped on a garden hose and fell. Hard. She fell hard. VERY hard. Face-first onto the concrete (thankfully, her face didn't make impact; she caught herself before that happened). My heart skipped a beat or two, and I immediately started towards her. About a foot away from being able to reach her, this amazing little girl pushed herself up (into an actual push-up). With pain being so evident from her facial expression, she then shook her head as if to say, "Pain, pain go away; I don't have time for you today". She had some scraped knees and palms of hands. She also had the breathe knocked out of her. When I asked her if she was ok, she allowed me to pick her up and kiss her; and then she said, "Yes, Sharmie; I'm ok." After we hugged and I put her down, she resumed her running adventure. I also noticed that this time, she made sure not to run near the garden hose.
I was reminded of two valuable lessons from Little Miss that day.
(1) When you get knocked down, shake it off and go on with your life.
(2) Learn from your mistakes.
*~*~*~*~*
On another day during my visit, the kids were playing in mud. Yep. Mud. They're country babies, doncha know. :)
Bruiser Charmer Boy (who is 2) decided he needed to make more mud for his adventures. He had a toy in the shape of boat (minus any sails). It was the most perfect thing for transporting water! He would toddle over to the dogs' bowl (big, honkin' huge thing - big honkin' huge dogs, also), dip his boat in and fill it up with water. Then, he'd toddle back to his mud pit and dump the water. The whole aventure, took probably took about 2 minutes, round trip.
He's 2 years old (and barely, at that), and he's still learning so many things (hopefully he'll continue to learn throughout his entire life). He's extremely smart and very observant; but, give the boy a break - he's only 2! One of the things he's still trying to master is how to hold things properly; in this specific case, how to hold a toy boat full of water so that by the time he gets back to his mud pit, he has more than just a drop or two remaining. It was so cute to watch. He'd get to the mud pit, turn his boat over to release the water; and instead of a couple of cups of water pouring out, only a small drizzle would make its appearance. Did that deter him any? Absolutely not! I sat there for quite a while immersed in watching him make trip after trip after trip AFTER trip - all the while smiling and giggling (truth be known, both of us were doing the smiling and giggling). At one point in all of this, his mother did try to show him how to hold the boat. He tried; he truly tried. But, perhaps, he needs just a bit more life under his belt before he fully understands that particular concept.
My lessons that I was reminded of while watching him:
(1) Little by little; each step toward your goal is progress.
(2) Don't give up; keep going . . . and SMILE!
*~*~*~*~*
Last, but certainly not least, there are several friends in my little corner of Facebook Land that have started new businesses recently (as recently as within the past few days to within the past few years). Some of them are consultant type businesses for various home-party companies; some of them are craft-related, wherein they are making and selling the very wares that they peddle. Some of my friends are immersed in various service and/or educational type businesses, while some others are writers (books, professional blogs, etc.). Also, while not self-employed, some people are full-out pursuing their passions via their chosen careers. The ages of such illustrious friends range from 21 years to 70+ years. I like that. I like that I have such an eclectic variety of friends. Now, truth be known, and between you and me, my friend who is in her 70s, while definitely self-employed, has had her own business for a little over a decade now; but I still wanted to include her, here, - I've learned a lot from her while watching her run her business.
I love cheering people on and giving them encouragement regarding following their dreams and achieving their goals (or about other things as well; but I'm trying to stick to the topic, doncha know). I love to hear (or read) about their victories; it's exciting and it's encouraging. It's also very motivating.
I also appreciate knowing when my friends are needing a little extra support from their cheering section (of which I like to think I'm part of those groups). Let's face it - pursuing one's goals; regardless of what such illustrious goals are - can be quite daunting at times. It takes grit to keep at it sometimes. It also takes a proper perspective . . . the gloomy gusses of the world rarely suceed in what it is they want to accomplish. Please understand, there is a great difference between looking at things realistically and working through the downfalls, versus complaining about every little thing and having a defeatist attitude right out of the gate. To my gloomy friends, my true encouragement to you, my heartfelt prayer for you is for you to change your mindset. Develop joy and gratitude! If you're working on this but are not quite there, keep plugging along. If you haven't tried this approach, please consider doing so. There is always something for which a person can be grateful; and that very attitude of gratitude, along with true joy, will shield you in the tough times and carry you places that otherwsie would not be possible.
I love that I can learn from people (when I truly want to and when I get ME out of the way). I'm over-the-moon overjoyed that my sweet, precious grandbabies can teach me things just by being exactly who they are.
I love that I can learn from friends and other loved ones by "watching" their progress via Facebook.
I think of my 21-year old friend over on FB; and I'm humbled by her stick-to-it-tiveness regarding her new business. She amazes me; a young mother of a young baby, whose husband's career takes him away from home for a couple of weeks at a time. Yet, she is plugging along and really making a success of her business. Wow!
I am also reminded of a friend of mine who is pursuing her chosen career full force; in spite of the undeserved roadblocks that have been placed in her path; such roadblocks being created by people who don't want her to suceed because she doesn't fit the "mold" of someone in that particular career. She pushes through the painful experiences and still goes after her goal. I find that extremely inspiring. I have a lot of respect for her.
There are so many of y'all that touch the core of who I am and gives me pause to look at what y'all are doing - even in the midst of the individual adversities that each of y'all encounter. I'm speaking of y'all, regardless as to whether or not your goal is a business/carreer goal or simply another type of goal.
I thank y'all deeply. And, I want to encourage y'all to keep doing what you're doing . . . I'll be here cheering y'all on and being proud of your accomplishments.
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Here's to each of y'all's goals, dreams and passions!
Y'all be blessed,
Sharmie
*~*~*~*~*
A few weeks ago, I was visiting our youngest daughter, her husband and their two kids (my two youngest heart captors, otherwise known as grandbabies). Allow me to share a couple of incidents that happened that have affected me on a deeply personal level.
One day, Little Miss was running around the carport. She's 3.5 years old; that's what she does. She's a very agile, nimble and an incredibly active little girl. Quite vivacious. Absolutely loves life. Suddenly, Little Miss tripped on a garden hose and fell. Hard. She fell hard. VERY hard. Face-first onto the concrete (thankfully, her face didn't make impact; she caught herself before that happened). My heart skipped a beat or two, and I immediately started towards her. About a foot away from being able to reach her, this amazing little girl pushed herself up (into an actual push-up). With pain being so evident from her facial expression, she then shook her head as if to say, "Pain, pain go away; I don't have time for you today". She had some scraped knees and palms of hands. She also had the breathe knocked out of her. When I asked her if she was ok, she allowed me to pick her up and kiss her; and then she said, "Yes, Sharmie; I'm ok." After we hugged and I put her down, she resumed her running adventure. I also noticed that this time, she made sure not to run near the garden hose.
I was reminded of two valuable lessons from Little Miss that day.
(1) When you get knocked down, shake it off and go on with your life.
(2) Learn from your mistakes.
*~*~*~*~*
On another day during my visit, the kids were playing in mud. Yep. Mud. They're country babies, doncha know. :)
Bruiser Charmer Boy (who is 2) decided he needed to make more mud for his adventures. He had a toy in the shape of boat (minus any sails). It was the most perfect thing for transporting water! He would toddle over to the dogs' bowl (big, honkin' huge thing - big honkin' huge dogs, also), dip his boat in and fill it up with water. Then, he'd toddle back to his mud pit and dump the water. The whole aventure, took probably took about 2 minutes, round trip.
He's 2 years old (and barely, at that), and he's still learning so many things (hopefully he'll continue to learn throughout his entire life). He's extremely smart and very observant; but, give the boy a break - he's only 2! One of the things he's still trying to master is how to hold things properly; in this specific case, how to hold a toy boat full of water so that by the time he gets back to his mud pit, he has more than just a drop or two remaining. It was so cute to watch. He'd get to the mud pit, turn his boat over to release the water; and instead of a couple of cups of water pouring out, only a small drizzle would make its appearance. Did that deter him any? Absolutely not! I sat there for quite a while immersed in watching him make trip after trip after trip AFTER trip - all the while smiling and giggling (truth be known, both of us were doing the smiling and giggling). At one point in all of this, his mother did try to show him how to hold the boat. He tried; he truly tried. But, perhaps, he needs just a bit more life under his belt before he fully understands that particular concept.
My lessons that I was reminded of while watching him:
(1) Little by little; each step toward your goal is progress.
(2) Don't give up; keep going . . . and SMILE!
*~*~*~*~*
Last, but certainly not least, there are several friends in my little corner of Facebook Land that have started new businesses recently (as recently as within the past few days to within the past few years). Some of them are consultant type businesses for various home-party companies; some of them are craft-related, wherein they are making and selling the very wares that they peddle. Some of my friends are immersed in various service and/or educational type businesses, while some others are writers (books, professional blogs, etc.). Also, while not self-employed, some people are full-out pursuing their passions via their chosen careers. The ages of such illustrious friends range from 21 years to 70+ years. I like that. I like that I have such an eclectic variety of friends. Now, truth be known, and between you and me, my friend who is in her 70s, while definitely self-employed, has had her own business for a little over a decade now; but I still wanted to include her, here, - I've learned a lot from her while watching her run her business.
I love cheering people on and giving them encouragement regarding following their dreams and achieving their goals (or about other things as well; but I'm trying to stick to the topic, doncha know). I love to hear (or read) about their victories; it's exciting and it's encouraging. It's also very motivating.
I also appreciate knowing when my friends are needing a little extra support from their cheering section (of which I like to think I'm part of those groups). Let's face it - pursuing one's goals; regardless of what such illustrious goals are - can be quite daunting at times. It takes grit to keep at it sometimes. It also takes a proper perspective . . . the gloomy gusses of the world rarely suceed in what it is they want to accomplish. Please understand, there is a great difference between looking at things realistically and working through the downfalls, versus complaining about every little thing and having a defeatist attitude right out of the gate. To my gloomy friends, my true encouragement to you, my heartfelt prayer for you is for you to change your mindset. Develop joy and gratitude! If you're working on this but are not quite there, keep plugging along. If you haven't tried this approach, please consider doing so. There is always something for which a person can be grateful; and that very attitude of gratitude, along with true joy, will shield you in the tough times and carry you places that otherwsie would not be possible.
I love that I can learn from people (when I truly want to and when I get ME out of the way). I'm over-the-moon overjoyed that my sweet, precious grandbabies can teach me things just by being exactly who they are.
I love that I can learn from friends and other loved ones by "watching" their progress via Facebook.
I think of my 21-year old friend over on FB; and I'm humbled by her stick-to-it-tiveness regarding her new business. She amazes me; a young mother of a young baby, whose husband's career takes him away from home for a couple of weeks at a time. Yet, she is plugging along and really making a success of her business. Wow!
I am also reminded of a friend of mine who is pursuing her chosen career full force; in spite of the undeserved roadblocks that have been placed in her path; such roadblocks being created by people who don't want her to suceed because she doesn't fit the "mold" of someone in that particular career. She pushes through the painful experiences and still goes after her goal. I find that extremely inspiring. I have a lot of respect for her.
There are so many of y'all that touch the core of who I am and gives me pause to look at what y'all are doing - even in the midst of the individual adversities that each of y'all encounter. I'm speaking of y'all, regardless as to whether or not your goal is a business/carreer goal or simply another type of goal.
I thank y'all deeply. And, I want to encourage y'all to keep doing what you're doing . . . I'll be here cheering y'all on and being proud of your accomplishments.
Thanks for reading, y'all!
Here's to each of y'all's goals, dreams and passions!
Y'all be blessed,
Sharmie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)