Wonder- Hillsong United

Friday, May 30, 2014

Polar Ice

I just got out of the hospital on Wed.  Today is FRiday. Please forgive my silence here. Other than my struggle to breathe, there is not much to report.

The steroids have bumped up some of my symptoms.When I got home on Wed.  I heard dragging footsteps on our deck and heard a raspy voice --sounding like the speaker was at the point of death, --calling my name. I thought someone was hurt.  I ran to the door and looked at the peephole.  NO one. No car in the drive.  I finally had to admit that my stupid brain was playing its games and freaking me out by it.

However the steroids are good for something. Not just my breathing.  My swelling in my hands, ankles and feet is going down due to the inflammation killing action of the steroids.  I have 12 more days of oral doses.

The really good news is that while in the hospital,, and while on steroids, I did manage to lose 8 pounds  I have to be really careful now, not to regain.  I've started on the Eat to Live program once again. I am hoping this is adequate to, not only keep me from regaining but to lose some more. The last time I was serious about this method of eating...I lost 30 pounds in six weeks.

I know no one wants to read my thoughts about my body, weight or food...They are my "go-to" topic in times of communicating when I'm at an impasse and need to talk about something.

I've been trying to write a bit...I am meeting with horrible resistance in my own heart, when I try to write.Poetry seems a distant dream to me right now.  I have to say that I blame my  psych meds for that. They have leveled me, flattened me all out.  True--I  no longer wish to fall off the earth but it's a high price to pay for peace  No creative urges what.so.ever.  Not for visual art or writing. I feel that, without that inspiration, I'm just a flattened out door mat...plain. just there. inspiring no one to song or to cogitation....I cannot encounter what it takes to move souls to sing or even to think deeply.

Is this writer's block?  No, I haven't written enough to struggle with that. This is SOUL block. There is an impediment in my spirit.  I am divorced from my feelings.  And granted, that may not be all bad.  But as a creative being, it is painful.  I long to be moved deeply.  And that seems about as likely as a polar melt down.
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