Just-a-Quote #10 (Missing Dad... Fathers Day)

"I miss you, Dad. SO MUCH!" ~ Kimmie x

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related Post: About A Man

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Symptoms of Fibromyalgia... (My experience)

It's been a while since I posted anything more than the odd quote/poem. It's been a tough few months here, on top of (as many of you already know) an incredibly tough Two-ish years. 

For weeks now I've been in one of my (just-coming-out-of-still-subject-to-change) withdrawal phases. 

I've struggled to connect, online or off, and on top of that, (frustratingly), for a variety of reasons, (not least symptoms of FIBRO-BLOOMING-MYALGIA), I've struggled to write, (other than in my journals). 

On that note, Dear reader, you may notice that the following post contains large chunks of  'oi-Kimmie-you-said-that-already', with some fresh-ramble thrown in... because you're worth it ;o)

THE FATIGUE

Actually, fatigue doesn't cover *This Tired*, I'm not sure there is any stand alone word that does! o_O 

Having suffered mental illness for years (including, depression, OCD, anxiety, and an Eating disorder) I'm no stranger to fatigue, but *This Tired*, Oh my! never-have-I-ever experienced *This Tired* before! 

No amount of sleep eases 'This Tired', it is extreme, overwhelming, relentless....it knocks me off of my feet, muddles my brain, limits my ability to 'do', and forces me to rest after even the shortest periods of 'doing'. 

'This Tired' has been getting progressively worse over the past few years, and has been a constant for the past year (or so) - and when I say constant, I mean constant, every second, of every minute, of every day... Every. Single. Day!

There was a time, not so long ago really, that I could have painted a room, tidied/cleaned house, garden, kids (and self) in a day... these days I'm lucky if I get through a shower without collapsing. 

I drag myself up in the mornings feeling like I've been hit by a dumper truck (even if I've slept all night) and spend the rest of the day (when I'm not napping) doing very little - and 'very little' is mind-blowingly exhausting! 

I've always had a high pain threshold (with the exception of headaches, which I HATE!), and though I detest the walking stick that I now need to get around outdoors, and often grumble-grouch-ouch, (swear-a-bit),  pain alone wouldn't usually stop me from getting things done. 

Fatigue is BY FAR my major complaint, because it (often) makes it IMPOSSIBLE to carry on, If I had to chose, and could only cure one or the other, pain or fatigue... I'd drop the fatigue in a heartbeat. 

There have been a few severe (excruciating) pain episodes that have prevented walking for a while, but I could still read, write, enjoy social media, take in a T.V program; if only I wasn't... So. Damn. Tired! 

Pain gets me down, there's no denying that, but it doesn't knock me out, it doesn't suck the life out of me, it doesn't prevent me from living. Fatigue does that. 

I could go on with the fatigue issue (I have more words!) but I'd rather you didn't hit the 'bugger-this-I'm-off-button' (assuming you haven't already) so I'll move on.

***

THE PAIN(s)... There's a list o_O

Pickaxe to the head: I'm not kidding, well actually, I am.... but MY GOD, if anyone should ever take a pickaxe to my head, I reckon I'd know what'd hit me!  

This can happen at anytime, sometimes more than once a day. It stops me in my tracks, and is (thank God it doesn't last long each time - seconds usually) excruciating!

Knife through the shoulder blade: Clearly, I'm dramatizing again, I've never (literally) been stabbed in the back, but there really is no other way to describe it. Knife pain lasts a lot longer than pickaxe pain, and transmits a heavy-achy feeling down my arm and into my hand, causing partial numbness in the process. 

Alternative shoulder pain: This one is bothersome (because it disturbs sleep) it's painful, intensely so at times (though more heavy/achy/bruised than stabbing) and occurs under pressure....by pressure I mean laying on it/leaning on it.

Chest Pain: I sometimes get a sharp, severe, stabbing pain in my chest just above my left breast, or, in the center of my chest. The pain often radiates through to my neck and/or shoulder, it hurts more when I breath in, and when point of pain is touched (on instinct) it's exacerbated. This one frightens the life out of me (exacerbated by OCD thoughts) - *is it my lungs? is it lung cancer? Am I having a heart attack?* ... You get the picture. 

Bone Pain (deep): (periodic) Specifically knees/hips - when I say deep I'm attempting to describe (in short) an excruciating pain that would be better described as 'cork screwing' or 'boring' the bone - It hurts... a lot! o_O 

Itchy-Twitchy-PAINFUL Nerves: Oh. My. God! How do I even begin to describe this one. 

Have you ever had a trapped nerve, dear reader? Well, The pain's a lot like that, except it affects multiple nerves, wide spread, at the same time.  It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "It's getting on my last nerve"!

As for the itch... It's sort of on the outside, but really on the inside. It moves around, runs away when you try and scratch it. Have you ever scratched an itch in your armpit to discover (but not before scratching at least 10 other body parts first) that the itch is actually in your foot... Well, it's a lot like that o_O

THE RANDOMS.

Facial/head numbness: This one's weird, and can hit at anytime (though not every day) - not only do I experience numbness in my face and/or head, but it's accompanied (or followed by) a strange internal trickling sensation, almost like cold running water, underneath the skin. It's extremely disconcerting.

Pick & choose hands; I told you my symptoms were random! What I mean by this is - my hands (more often than not the right hand) can be working perfectly well one minute, and be practically useless (powerless) the next. 

Generally there is very little pain involved, but it is incredibly frustrating when I attempt to pick something up and... 'hand says no'. 

Muddling words (forgetting words) OFTEN!: I've always been an outstanding read-out-louder (blows own trumpet) but really, I have; in fact at school (more often than not) I would be the 'chosen one' if any reading out loud was going on. 

Now however, I'm noticing more and more; whilst reading to my daughter, that I'm either muddling the beginning/end of words, stuttering, reading words the wrong way round, or (most worryingly) reading words that are not even on the page. 

It's almost as if my brain and mouth are in no way connected. To give a for instance - When (at time of writing) I read this paragraph aloud, I read the word 'words' as 'swords' o_O

Similarly, I'm Having trouble writing/typing words correctly - specifically, I'm writing letters in the wrong order, or missing words out of sentences altogether.  

Even tweets require an edit before posting these days - and Iv'e lost count of the mistakes I've had to correct while writing this post (FYI - I originally wrote dyas in the line above, as apposed to days, and then corrected) o_O

These issues, coupled with my referring to the kettle (to give just one for instance) as "Oh, (tut) you know, the black thingy that boils water" is enough to drive me (and the rest of the family) insane! 

Makes no sense - Literally! 

These days (some days) it's a miracle if I can remember my own name, let alone where I am in a task/activity/conversation. It's like, I know all of the pieces of the puzzle are there, but I'll be damned if I can find the next piece.

Dizzyness/feeling faint: Especially when fatigue is at it's worst. 

Recently this symptom has become quite debilitating, and has prompted me to visit the GP to confirm (by way of other investigations) that these frequent (almost daily) attacks are indeed nothing more than ANOTHER fibro issue.  

Lead Legs: Heavy, achy (sometimes numb-ish) legs; that have to be willed on when walking, and often make me feel nauseous when resting - it's not a nice feeling, nor is it one I can easily describe... except perhaps to say that; when it occurs, I can feel my legs, (including pain) but they're not quite with it, or with me... Does that make sense? - Well anyway, if there is such a thing as 'lead legs', I have them. 

Itchy/painful ears: Oh how I hate this one. During the day my ears are more itchy than ouchy, but at night the pain is frequently unbearable. 

For months now my ears have objected to being caught between my head and the pillow, and will often wake me up (screamingly) to let me know how pissed off they are. 

Once they've woken me, they refuse to allow me to lift my head without first sliding my hand between them and the pillow, and keeping said hand firmly over the offending a***hole ear hole until I've (carefully, because it really bloody hurts) lifted myself up into a sitting position. 

Drunk walking (minus the drinking): Probably explains itself this one.. but in short - I (often, not always) find I can't walk in a straight line. I've lost count of the amount of times I'm walking down the street beside hubs one minute and under his feet the next. The annoying thing is, I can feel myself suddenly veer off to the left, but there's bugger all I can do about it.  

Finally, and briefly, cause it's taken me days to knock this lot out, (despite the Oi-Kimmie-you-said-that-already chunks) and 'This Tired' is killing me! 

Palpitations - Twitches - numbness: Hands/feet/toes/hips/bum; anywhere's possible. Balance issues. Dreams (more than usual). Sleep issues: can't sleep, or, can do nothing but sleep - no sleep is enough sleep - there is no relief from 'This Tired'!

Linking up for the Chronic-Friday-Linkup with Being Fibro Mum

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

Please Note: The above symptoms list is based solely on my own experiences. This post should not be deemed as advice or counsel... or referred to for self-diagnose. Please seek proper medical advice if you (or someone close to you) are experiencing similar symptoms.

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Just-a-Quote #9 (Grief. The Loneliest Loneliness)

"Grief is the loneliest loneliness." ~ Kimmie

***

PRAYER
I'm lonely, so so lonely... but not alone in grief; a few of my friends have lost loved-ones recently. Lord, bless them, please. Hold them tight. Help them through the 'Lonely'. Amen.

Thank you for allowing me to share

Bless you; all of you who have supported me over the past year... It's meant more to me than you could possibly know. 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related Post: In a nutshell... Because Nutshells are easy.

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She Shines Forth Brilliantly.

 Portrayed 

no semblance of truth 

Innermost 

Hidden from view 

Captured

in transient light

Blackness 

cloaked in sunny

                                              

Radiant
in a haze of darkness
apparent
out of sight

Foretimes
consuming the present
Caught between
Fade to black

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related Post: Cloaked in Sunny

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Wordless Wednesday 20/04/2016... Creative Breakfast

Kimmie x

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Just-a-Quote #8 ... (Tell me honestly)

"If I showed you my flaws... If I couldn't be strong. Tell me honestly... Would you still love me the same?" ~ Adam Levine. 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related: Just-a-Quote #3 (Mental Illness)

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Just-a-Quote #7... (grief)

"I hate this feeling... Like you're here, but you're not. Like you could hold me, but you don't. Like you're somewhere close... faraway, and there is no in-between." ~ Kimmie

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related post:

If I could live one day again.

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If the Tables were Turned... (a #1000speak Post)

If I were sat on concrete throughout the day, curled cold in a doorway at night. If stone were my pillow, cardboard my sheet, and my blanket fell from the sky. 

If I were hungry, huddled, cold, exposed; afraid of an unsheltered night. If I'd found a hideaway, been discovered, moved on; had nowhere else to go. 

If I knew what it was to hunt butts on the floor, scavenge food from a bin. beg handouts from passers by. If I was hungry, thirsty, drained; tortured by bellies cry.

If my gloves were wet from shifting snow, my fingers froze to biting. If my feet were screaming, barely shod, my skin icebound in tattered clothing. 

If I had to look down, was too ashamed to look up, was afraid of the look in their eyes. If I knew what it was to be guessed at, frowned upon, judged in a moment. 

If the tables were turned. If I were Homeless. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion. 

Poem by Cliff Letts. Read more Here

***

If my life had been torn apart by conflict. If I knew what it was to watch friends and loved ones die. Torn apart, blown apart, tortured. 

If I'd been forced to leave my home, community, country. Leave a life time of people behind.

If my life, my children's lives depended on running, if there was little hope in the running but running was all we had. 

If I'd had to bundle up belongings, a whisper of our all. Drag my babies through the night, throw them onto an uncertain boat... answer their cries with lies and maybes. 

If I (we) survived the journey. Were thrown (traumatized) from a sea of hope into an unfamiliar (largely unwelcoming) world.  Washed up, weary worn, stranded! 

If my children now wandered barefoot in the rain, in the-there-that-we-had-run-to... rejected, hungry, hurting.

If I'd arrived at hope to find hopeless, and would rather we'd died in the there that we'd fled... than die in the there that we'd run to.   .

If the tables were turned. If I were a Refugee. I'd wish for (pray for) compassion. 

***

If I were old, lonely, unwanted, forgotten. Old; forgetful, childlike, demanding. Old; frustrated, sharp tongued, aggressive. If I were hard work...a burden.

If I'd been Marie; unloved, abused. Surrounded by hopelessness; voiceless. confused. If I'd known fear without comprehension. If my screams had gone unheard. 

If I were alone; scared, unprotected. Nothing-to-no-one; wretched, neglected. If I were they that are!

If the tables were turned. 

*** 

This is a #1000speak post. Thankfully, there are a lot of kind, compassionate people in the world. People who make a difference. People who give what they can, do what they can, bring hope to the hopeless.  Not least the folks who write for 1000-Speak.

1000-Voices-For-Compassion is such a beautiful movement. There are so many contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

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Just-a-Quote #6... (Homeless. Compassion.)

"If you can't help all homeless people, then just help one." ~ Kimmie

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related Posts:

                                       

                                       Somebody's Son                                         

Streets Ahead 

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Wordless Wednesday 10/02/2016... (Poorly Pooch)

Kimmie x

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If I Could Live One Day Again...

An excerpt from an archived post... HERE

If I could live one day again...  it would be the last day I saw my Dad.

My Dad lived a long way away from me, and, as mentioned in previous posts, mental illness/fear prevents me from travelling. In February of last year (3 months before he died) my Dad; my always-there-and-if-he-wasn't-there-he-was-getting-there, Dad, came to me. Riddled with Cancer, barely able to stand, and in unimaginable pain, he came to me. He came to say goodbye.

We hugged lots, loved lots, talked as much as he could manage... goodbyes were left unspoken, neither of us able to say the words.

When he left, knowing how hard the moment was for him, I hugged him brave... like a grown up. The child inside was bawling, I didn't let her out.

He released my hold on him, kissed my head, and said "keep smiling babe.", then he turned and walked down the garden path.

When he reached the gate he turned and looked straight at me, he held my gaze for only a moment before turning away again. In that moment I read my life time in his eyes... and I read his breaking heart, his I love you... his goodbye.

I didn't want to be brave anymore. I wanted to run down the path with the child's tears pouring down my face, throw myself into his arms, beg him to stay.

I stayed dry-eye-brave in the doorway until he'd disappeared through the gate. Then went into the toilet, stamped my feet like a child, and cried.

If I could live that day again... I'd run down the path!

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related Post: It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to

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Just-a-Quote #5 (Dad)

"When God was handing out Dads... He saved the best for me." ~ Kimmie

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Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Related Post: About a Man

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Just-a-Quote #4... (Hope)

"With every heartbeat there is hope." ~ Kimmie

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

Related post: Still Afraid... and the line's still fine

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Wordless Wednesday 27.01.2016... Cookie

Kimmie x

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Just-a-Quote #3 (#mentalillness)

"Symptoms of Mental Illness are (usually) very well hidden. Behind award winning smiles... 'I'm fine.' - 'I'm okay.' " ~ Kimmie 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x

Related Posts                                                                                                                                    

Cloaked in Sunny                                               I Am                                                                                                                                                     

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Streets Ahead (a #1000speak post)

It would be impossible to write this post without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet, because the events of the two (short, I promise) compassion stories I'm about to share with you, were born of my own compassion. But, it's not MY horn I want to blow today... Ignore my horn! :o)

***

A while back, November-ish I think, Hubs and I were on our way to post some letters when we passed a homeless guy. He was sat on the pavement; head down, eyes closed, huddled. 

Within moments of passing the man I was kicking myself for not stopping, and knowing that we would be crossing his path again on our way back to the Co-op I asked Hubs if he had any spare change in his pocket. He dug out what he had. It wasn't much. 

The mans reaction when we stopped and handed over 'not-much' was smashing. His face lit up instantly. His expression a mix of surprise and... actually I'm not quite sure about the and; relief with a hint of joy I think. 

At this point he had already made my day!

We said goodbye to the man and crossed the road to the Co-op, stopping first at the cash point just outside the store. While I was waiting for Hubs to withdraw the money we would need for our shopping I noticed another (elderly, frail) homeless man sat just to the right of us, outside the bakers. 

I turned to hubs, and was just about to ask him if we could spare anything else, when I heard... "Come on mate, up ya get, I'll buy ya some breakfast." followed by a mumbled, (inaudible to me) reply. 

I turned toward the voices (as nosey people do ;) and then watched in awe, as he (the man we'd just left on the other side of the street with not-much to his name) gently helped the somewhat bemused elderly man to his somewhat shaky feet. 

Turns out not-much, as far as Mr Compassionate was concerned, was enough. More than enough for two!

I turned back to hubs, and under my breath, asked, 'Can we spare a bit more?'.

After adding a-little-bit-more to their not-much , we said goodbye to Mr Shaky and Mr Compassionate. They, one held up by the other and both smiling, shuffled off in the direction of the nearest cafe. We, also smiling, disappeared into the co-op to get the food we needed to cover our own meals that week. 

Someone once said (Mary Poppins, I think), "Enough is as good as a feast."... Well then, I hope my Mr Compassionate, was served 'enough' fit for a king!

***

Some weeks later; the week between Christmas and New Year. We (me, Hubs and Littlie) were on our way to The Book Shop in Town (to spend Littlie's book-vouchers), when we saw another homeless man, sat on a concrete step between two shops. Eyes to pavement. In a world of his own.

He looked up, startled, when hubs approached him, and was just about to accept the coins offered when he suddenly pushed Hubby's hand away, exclaiming, "No, I can't!" 

At first I thought we'd offended him, hurt his pride, but then he gestured toward Littlie (in her wheelchair) and said, "Disabled, I can't take from disabled, it's not right." 

His reaction took my breath away. He was so sincere. Clearly, more concerned for us than for himself. Choked up even. 

We're not well off by any means, Dear reader, but we had, just days earlier, enjoyed Christmas dinner (and pudding), by fairy-light-glow.  Opened gifts. Eaten sweets. Watched Christmas TV... Together.

We have a roof over our heads; food in the cupboards. Hot water, home comforts, warm beds... Each other. 

We're a long way from concrete!

Anyway, I, made brave by HIS compassion; took the coins from hubs, approached the man myself, and said,  "please take it. It's not much, and I promise you... we have enough." 

The man (I wish I'd asked his name) took the coins from my hand and said 'Thank you'. 

As we turned to walk away he called out, 'Wait'. Then he stood up and shuffled towards us, saying, (addressing Littlie, but looking between us and her for approval), "Let me give you something; can I give you a kiss, Child." then gently, (as gentlemen do) he leaned forward and  kissed Littlie on the cheek. 

The Mum-in-me (without meaning to) had mentally clocked his grubby beard, queried germs, made a mental note to dig out the wet wipes when we were out of sight. 

The ever-present-fear-in-me was on edge, not quite sure, fingers-crossed. Because, well, that's me. 

But I didn't stop him. Nor (amazingly, for a germ obsessive such as me) did I wipe away his gift; his compassion (his 'enough'), when we were out of sight. 

They didn't amount to much; the coins we gave him... they never do. 

But there was love (and compassion) in the giving, and an unspoken; 'I-hope-it's-enough'. 

Much like his gift to us! 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

I wish you enough. 

Kimmie x 

***

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 

Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

***

Related Post: Somebody's Son 

 

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