feel better

if you want to feel
better. learn how to focus
not on have but give


Had a hard day today. Had a hard week this week. But when I focused on someone else and doing good for them, I felt better. Things got better.

Praise God.

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kaleidoscopic

Distracted
Reactive
Didactic
Unattractive

I close my eyes
To listen for your words
They feather down on me
Like a flock of birds

When I find my still
And meditate on choice
I climb through clouds
And hear your voice

My sunglasses sprinkled
With drops of rain
I don’t mind
Transcend this plane

I open my eyes
And see your worlds
Kaleidoscopic prisms
Rainbow swirls

Colorful snowflakes
Buzzing like a hive
Dancing on my vision
Proof that you’re alive

I pray to you
Bring me peace
Only then
Does my calm increase

Thank you
For your amazing display
I am humbled and awed
By your magic every day

Sympathy, But No Admiration

I skimmed an article the other day about a woman with 5 children. It started with her morning routine and I couldn’t make it past bed-making. It looked like an attempt for recognition for her task-filled day as a working mother.

She began with, “After making 5 beds…” She has 5 children and not one of them can make a bed?

I would teach the child to make their own bed. And if they can’t? Unmade beds are the least of your problems.

I would admire you more if you taught your children how to care for themselves rather than ask for attention in doing for your kids. Or you taught them a lesson and one to yourself about leaving and accepting the unmade beds.

“Want a made bed?” I would ask my child. “Let me show you how.”

Yes, sometimes I make my child’s bed. But she’s one child and I’m happy to do it. She works hard at school, makes straight As, and doesn’t always have time. And if it doesn’t get done? That’s ok.

She knows how to make one and can do it if I ask her. One can also just shut the door.

One day your kids will care about the way their room looks and until then, it doesn’t matter. As long as there’s no pizza or soda actively attracting ants under the bed, right??

Joy is found in the wrinkled, wrestled sheets of bedtime tickles and snuggly stories of the day. Don’t sweat the small stuff. You have 5 kids, you should know this.

At the end of your life, do you want to say, “All the beds were made, every day”?

Or do you want your kids to know, “Mom loved me.”


Zen-like enlightenment or peace does not originate from a made bed. If anything, it is the opposite. The acceptance of impermanence. It’s strange that some humans endeavor in a lifelong attempt at domesticating Earth and they made an entire website devoted to it (looking at you, Pinterest). Peace comes at the realization of bed-making futility. The temporal tool of Bed should be put into perspective. It’s for sleeping, not decorating. It can be enjoyed, not fussed over.

It’s also home to several million bed mites. I’m sure they like it neat. The bed mites appreciate your hard work, Mom. LOL


When we wake up, we should greet the day with awe at the rising sun. Not worry about the messy sheets. It’s a process. I get it. I’m talking to myself as much as anyone.

Who makes their kid’s bed? Just curious.

So Fracking Philosophical at 8 AM EST–Sorry

Christian or not, until we submit to the Power that created us, Universe or God (as long as we struggle against the nature of things?) we will only know strife and pain. If we submit to the higher power of God/Nature, we will become one with the everlasting.

Experience true peace and happiness.

To try and control that which we do not understand will bring inconsolable sadness and eternal, unquenchable desire.

It is futile to rail against the inevitable in pursuit of the inconsequential.

To misinterpret is human. To understand is divine.

We must embrace the overwhelming power of Creator and become Creature. It’s the difference between Heaven and Hell. And the difference between Languidness and Transcendence.

Grumpy Cat!

WARNING: SOME FOUL LANGUAGE AHEAD (Little bit, and a little ugly spew, much like a cat’s hairball, about doctors. Sorry! If you need sunshine, keep scrolling. It has a happy ending though.)

I am a blonde (yes, I am, shut up!), blue-eyed, suburban, white housewife/mother of 1. Nonviolent, mostly. Soft and squishy around the edges. Sheltered and meek, having no upper body strength and bad knees. Kind to most strangers, frequent smiler. Helper of lost cats, dogs, children, poor people and domestic violence victims. I’m not a superhero (at all!), but if I was, I would want to use my powers to punch all the doctors in all the throats! At once!

Not all. But most.

My weight loss surgeon and his team have been awesome. They saved my life. (Even they couldn’t find my diseased gall bladder, though. I had to whine and squeal about it for weeks before they fished it out.) But all other doctors can go straight to…the ER, IMO. That would be hell.

I went to the endocrinologist yesterday. I would have rather had emergency rectal surgery. Every time I go to a bleeding endocrinologist, they are the worst. I don’t know why, but they are the snootiest, most ill-mannered doctors I have ever encountered. And I’ve encountered several doctors, of all kinds, lately.

I have lost a total of 166 lbs. Some on my own, some from my weight loss surgery. I went to the doctor yesterday and she wanted to argue about how much weight I’ve lost. I told her that I lost 109 lbs. since surgery.

“Actually, according to our records, you’ve only lost 96 lbs.”

I wanted to kill her. “Why argue with me? You’re not my weight loss surgeon. You’re not my magical talking digital scale from home. You’re nobody!! You have no idea what you’re talking about, what my journey is/was, what I’ve been through or the challenges that I face/have faced. Shut your bloody mouth!” is what I wanted to say.

But I just kept quiet and silently stewed. Mousy housewife that I am. Mousewife. There was no point in even engaging this ignorant, self-righteous She-doct-whore. (Sorry.) She also didn’t listen to me when I told her about my thyroid removal, gall bladder removal, medicine fluctuations, the other obstacles I’ve faced as an overweight patient, medical literature I’ve read about my condition because doctors didn’t know what was happening with me (I diagnosed my own G-D GB failure! for Christ’s sake), and countless other beneficial pieces of medical history. Didn’t want to hear it. She wanted me to answer her inane, predetermined questions.

The nurse asked me all those questions that nurses ask you:
Pregnancies, family history, illnesses, surgeries.
Then the bloody doctor asked the same stupid questions, all over again.
How many times do I have to answer? And how many times will you ignore my history? It didn’t matter that I answered those questions TWICE! because she didn’t even consider the answers!

I can tell you this right now, I will never answer two sets of questions again! Never! For any doctor. I will simply say, “Asked and answered!” It’s so friggin’ stupid. I’m intelligent, honest and consistent. I shouldn’t have to pass a security clearance to get medical help or be seen by a doctor.

BTW, she kept me waiting in the lobby for over an hour and saw me for only 15 minutes. I was a new patient. They will charge me over $400 for that shit. AND I was early for my appointment! I was early for my ass reaming. Gah!

“Make sure you arrive 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork!”

Not seeing this doctor ever again. Disgusted!!

Doctors think they can take advantage. I know you went to medical school, Doc. But you never seem to know what’s wrong with me. You got your medical degree, but you failed bedside manner.

Not feeling very thankful today. Working on it. :/ I got a new hat for my daughter’s field day at school tomorrow. I think Grumpy Cat is leaking through my skull. :<

grumpy cat hat 2.jpg

I AM SO SORRY, WORLD! When I frown, I look like my Grumpy Grandma. (Remind me to write about that sometime. She also criticized my weight loss for not having lost enough when I was 18, weird!) Attitude adjustment achieved. I like the way I look when I’m smiling.

martha bw dress half.jpgSo I can let anything roll off my whiskers.

Unfailing

Like the ship on a sea,
My body is Home.
You always have rest
Wherever you roam.

To know true Peace
We must struggle and wrestle.
Our cargo is Honesty
Carried far in a vessel.

Don’t give up, please,
Holding through the night.
Words and wisdom will come.
Keep praying for the light.

Like sun in the morning,
Your smile is Life.
Want is not need.
Sacrifice is a Wife.

Never Needed

Never raped; never robbed.
Never threatened, molested, accosted or mobbed.

Never needed a gun.

The only man to ever abuse me
Was my dad who always accused me
Of being:
Lazy.
Fat.
Less than.
Ungrateful.
Worthless.

He owned 2 guns.

So if you ask me, “Do you want a gun?”
I would say, “No. Why would I need one?”

I’m beginning to wonder though.

If everyone who needs a gun
Buys a pistol. Rifle. AR-15. Grenade-lobbing launcher…
How will I protect my body? My daughter’s body?! My rights?
My right to exist.
How will I defend myself against those who have an entire arsenal at their disposal?

Do I want to live in a country
where I am required to arm myself
against those who would hunt me?
(Because they are paranoid
that the world is coming for:
their rights,
their guns,
their women
and most importantly,
their stuff!)

No.

No more alabaster cities that gleam,
We’d be no better than 3rd-world regime.
The kind that grabs power by force.
The kind that keeps boots on the necks of the poor.
The kind that muzzles our boisterous press.
The kind that punishes peaceful protest.
The kind that installs corrupt institution.
The kind that criminalizes sacrosanct Constitution.

No.

I don’t want to live with that.
I don’t want to die with that either.
But, no.
I will never need a gun.
Never needed a passport either…