8/3/12 9:42pm
I will drink water. It will cleanse me, form a shield to protect me from drama and stress. A readily-accessible remedy. I’ll grow me a magnetic bullshit shield lined with peace. I will call this a distress tolerance skill. It also fits into PLEASE Master. Self-care combats the stupid people, builds tolerance. Makes me into a warrior.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
7/18/12 6:17pm
I went to an ANAD meeting today. (I’m feeling anxious right now.) I went to the meeting and I realized how grown-up I am, how much progress I’ve made. I am not in that anymore. I’m not even in me. I worked for S-. I’m being opened to wisdom.
I have better boundaries. I understand why I do things. I practice mindfulness and DBT. I plan. I take care of me. I let things go.
Today last year I checked into CAP2. I could barely talk. I wanted to die. I was terrified. Dr. N was mad at me for giving up. I was so tired that I didn’t have it in me to try. Too tired to want to get better.
(deep breath, crickets) zap.
I rested. Then I did the work. And all year I’ve been working, learning, growing. Experiencing. Life.
I am more able now to deal with tsunamis of emotion. I can handle physical symptoms without freaking out. I made it through several crises, one of which I really would’ve preferred to be inpatient for, on the outside. I did it. And I’m doing it. I’m doing it.
My set of symptoms hasn’t changed much, but my ability to deal with it has. I also have stuck faithfully to the charting system I created with Dr. N in the hospital. July 28th will mark one year. It’s been good seeing him often and having a system we both understand and agree on. I trust him.
I’m finally to that point of being able to think about creating a life worth living. I want more for me. Marc wanted me to do that in 2008. I wasn’t ready. I don’t know what it will look like – probably a lot different than the picture in my head – but I’m open to ideas. I’m open to what God has planned for me. I’m open to God.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
7/18/12 9:30pm
Thought of the Day
I am not an asset.
I do not belong to anyone.
I belong to God.
I choose whom I work for, when and what I do.
I set clear boundaries.
I enforce me.
I am on a journey in a set direction and nothing will deter me.
I am free.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
7-4-12 10:46pm
I didn’t feel like sitting in traffic so I walked 3 miles after the fireworks tonight. Fireworks make me cry.
As I walked I talked to myself and God, enjoyed the cool night air, the freedom to move and to be me. I was thinking about a DBT lecture note in my journal:
Acceptance allows gentleness – making room for something in our lives without approving or judging.
I thought about Mom and Don and about independence. I’ve been thinking and planning and dreaming lately about what I want and what my future could look like. It greatly raises my anxiety. So as I walked and talked to God I tested out some positive affirmations, things to say to myself to make it less scary. I came upon this one that hits the spot:
I can do grown-up things without losing me.
(breathe…) I can do grown-up things without losing me. Growing up scares me. I don’t want to do it and thinking about it freaks me out. Like someone trying to kill me. But I can do grown-up things without losing me. Or killing me. Or changing me. I like me. I love me. I need to keep loving me.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
4-25-12 1:34pm
Can I just say I love Crest Sparkle Fun toothpaste? Alongside the adventure of trying to learn to cook, I have also embarked on trying to take care of my teeth.
Many of you know that me and oral hygiene don’t exactly mix. And by don’t exactly I mean almost never. I always avoided brushing my teeth growing up. I’d lie to my mom that I did. Aside from a dental “check-up” before kindergarten I never saw a dentist either. When I was 18 I got all my cavities taken care of and got braces. They were helpful not only in straightening my teeth but reminding me to take care of them. But when they came off I stopped working at it. For a long while brushing my teeth made me throw up so I just didn’t do it. Then I got sicker and for the past few years I’ve been afraid to brush my teeth. I’m not sure why.
Anyway, I saw a new dentist this week and got a plan for how to fix up my teeth. Not sure where I’ll get the money but I want to do it. I do genuinely care about my food crunchers. I do love food ya know. Yesterday my doctor was like, “Once you get all this work done, start brushing your teeth.” It would be so much easier if they had pot roast flavored toothpaste.
So when I was at Walmart yesterday buying the skillet I don’t know how to use I stopped in the sample-size aisle and picked up a few mini-toothpastes to see if I could find one I was willing to endure every day. I hate toothpaste, I hate brushing my teeth, and I hate the taste of mint and strong cinnamon. I happened to pick up a kids travel pack with a tiny Sparkle Fun toothpaste and a small monkey toothbrush that could only be more awesome if it shook like a rattle when I brushed. I LOVE it. It has glitter in it and tastes like bubble gum. I’m sure I’ve used it before but it wasn’t called Sparkle Fun, although it is quite sparkly and fun.
I’m proud of myself and really grateful for this thing that is fun and does not taste like mint and makes me not scared of brushing my teeth. You should try it. Might change your life. ;)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
4/24/12 9:32pm
So, I met with my doctor today. Had a super 
great session. And my homework is to learn to cook. (deep breath) Cook? I’ve never cooked real food in my life. I order pizza, warm up pizza, occasionally make a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. But I don’t cook. I am intrigued and terrified by the idea. I bought myself a skillet today at Walmart. Not sure what to do with it. But I wanna give it a go. This thing called cooking.
So this is a shoutout for cheap easy recipes.
What I have:
Microwave, toaster oven, oven, stove, toaster, blender, crock pot, turbo cooker
I don’t like:
Garlic, thyme, rosemary, sage, seafood
He said anything frozen doesn’t count as cooking. Damn. Anyway, I’d appreciate some recipes people really like that maybe a seven year old without supervision (aka ME) could try. Thanks in advance!
Michelle
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
(a conversation between me & a voice in my head after hours and hours of writing)
4-11-12 1:43am
(big breath)
I am alive.
I am alive.
If I have no control over what happens to or around me and what I do doesn’t matter…
If there is no such thing as should or real…
If I’m the only one my importance matters to, why am I here?
‘Cuz I like it.
(??) What?
I said because I like it. And I always get what I want. You can’t have hugs and the ocean without pain. Face it. You fear life.
No shit. I know that.
Yeah. But you don’t know that you love it too. You can’t see that in order to feel joy, you must know pain. The music comes with heartache. The ocean comes with pain. The dancing comes with a loneliness that pushes you to death. There are no substitutions. You can’t get away. You can’t strain off the bad. It is one.
(stare)
Michelle, you don’t want to die. You want not to feel the pain. The fire inside and the physical stress of your body melting away. But it’s not going away. It’s here to stay. What you do with it is your choice. But, like you said, you have no control.
There is no anti-life pill. You can’t strain out the seeds. Can’t sugarcoat it. You have pain.
You also have music. And hugs, and flowers, and writing and what you see in your head. You have God and the pirates.
(crying)
You have me.
But it hurts so much.
I know.
I’m so scared.
Like Jim said, you don’t have to understand right now.
I just have to be.
Just be.
I love you, Mom.
I love you too.
Acceptance is realizing the pain is an entry fee, a price of admission, to the theme park of life. Non-refundable. It’s your choice if you have fun or not.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
3-30-12 12:55 am
i wonder how the mind works seven in the night. Tonight I went to a bar to hear music. I pondered the plasticity of the brain and soft shoe dancing. And “Mona Lisa” made the joints of my ring finger tingle. I wrote about my feelings and fears, drank tea and ate bad chicken. Altogether a good night.
I was disturbed though by this one waiter. He’s never nice to me. He tries to appear to be but he’s cocky. He asked to see my ID to be in the bar after I’d already ordered. I said since they serve food there’s no age limit. He said I would need a “guardian” with me. Wow. How old do I look? I’m not drinking. I’ve been there many times before. My behavior is not disruptive. I walk around and write. Even 20 year olds don’t have guardians. I felt offended. He blamed it on his manager. I guess tea drinking chicken eating writers are not wanted as regulars there. Quite disconcerting. For the record, I’m 26. And sober.
I talked to Jim today about my trip to GA. I went to Possum Trot last weekend and had a blast, remembered how much I love clogging and how much I need to do it more. The project/idea side of my brain started scheming and I decided I need to take a trip to GA to find myself through clogging for a month. My mom is completely against it, says it’s ridiculous and crazy. My friends and providers think it’s great. I think it’s awesome and exciting and terrifying. But I so wanna do it. I found a craigslist room for rent ad there and actually emailed about it. I want to find me. Wherever I left her she’s waiting.
I took a trip to GA 8 years ago under very different circumstances. I’ve grown a lot since then. It’s something to remember. I want to learn to be more independent, to take care of myself and not have to rely on others. I think this might be like a missions trip. Mission: Find me. Get away for a time from everything here, everything doctor, illness, all the labels and expectations. Write, dance, breathe. I don’t know if it will happen but the planning gives me hope. A thing to believe in. A thing to be.
It’s weird. Today I hear the cadence of what my thoughts should be, but I can’t quite hear the words. It’s annoying. And free. Really it’s not free, but it should be. Knee. Things rhyme but they don’t make sense. Whatever. Just me. I spent $95 at Victoria’s Secret today to get a free umbrella. I shoulda just bought an umbrella. They never have panties that fit me. I know I have a big butt but it’s not THAT big…
Zoe’s on the door and I can’t think. I noticed at the workshop this weekend that I didn’t have as much trouble thinking. Less confusion and thought blocking. And the more days of not dancing the worse it gets. I have to wonder if I danced every day if I’d be less confused. Life processed through dancing makes sense. Life processed through other things is just a mess. Oh yes. (sigh)
I’d really like some peanut butter and jelly. Not so much the bread. Imran. (big smile) I know I’m rambling, but I like rambling, and so do you. Here’s to not making sense. (clink)
I gotta sleep. I feel like someone rearranged all the connections in my brain and it no longer works right.
Happy trails, Michelle
PS – I’ve lost my love of capital letters lately. like wearing pajamas to work.
(happily watching Stand Up For Mental Health videos and random YouTube comedy)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
1/22/12 12:25pm
What’s wrong with you? You’re just you. Nobody else could be you. And they wouldn’t want to if they knew what it meant. And you’re pretty damn good at it. So keep doin’ it. You’re the only one who knows how.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
1/4/12 12:20am
Oh, good God. The race has begun. They interruped my tv show to talk about the Iowa election today. It’s all over FB. Really?
I used to somewhat like politics. I thought voting was exciting. I thought I could make a difference in the world. But it’s not true. I have zero faith in the system. I don’t understand why Iowa and Florida are so important. And I know that no matter who wins they will cut social services and healthcare and try to kill me. And that my entire year will be spent trying to avoid radio, print and tv ads by the people vying for the position of person who can kill me and all the people fighting each other about various propositions.
Was it always this way? This sleazy and annoying? What would FDR think? Would Benjamin Franklin embrace this insanity or climb back into his grave? I can’t imagine him loving our “progress.”
It would be nice if I could just sequester myself until after the election, or at least close to it. Where is the hope? I need some political hope. Is there such a thing?
© Michelle Routhieaux 2012
12-25-10 11:04pm
I’m so grateful for Dr. Collan. My symptoms have improved drastically since seeing him. For those of you who know me, you’ll understand how much that means.
Since I’m not freaking out about my body I don’t want to die. I’m not cured but I feel human again. I climbed stairs at church without stopping and without pain. I walked to 7-11 and lifted the turkey today.
I still have symptoms but they are less intense. Mostly cognitive and psych stuff. I feel mostly calm and pleasantly out of touch with reality. I need structure and can’t handle being rushed, but I get things done in my own time.
I ran across Dr. Collan quite by chance. (Dr. Collan Koeppen – aka Upper Cervical Jedi) Met him in a free check at a walk. I won the most fucked-up patient of the day award. I like that. ;) I bought a discount visit certificate and figured if no one else can help this couldn’t hurt. I never go by those booths and I don’t have lots of money to pay, but I’m so glad I stopped at this one. Glad I took a chance and believed.
Dr. Collan is kind and gentle, quite knowledgeable and rather funny too. Check out his website and try him out if your body ails you or you need a great chiropractor or you know someone who does. Tell him Michelle sent you. ;) Six weeks ago my body was falling apart and I was freaking out and wanted to die. My neurologist actually gave up on me. He said, “This is where the science ends.” Today I celebrated Christmas with my family, cooked and rode in the car for awhile and I didn’t freak out AND I wasn’t in pain – except when I hit my elbow on the door. ;) Miracle-worker I don’t know. But he’s damn good, that’s for sure.
Thanks, Dr. Collan. You’ve made my life worth living. I’m so thankful for you.
1-5-11 3:03am
Update – Saw my primary doctor today. He was both impressed and flabbergasted by the improvements. Lol. Said he’ll have to remember chiropractic really does work and remember to refer people. I certainly hope so.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
Journal entries – Dear Me is a fight I had with myself today.
11-15-10 11:48am
Today’s show is brought to you by the letter F, as in flashbacks – the experience of re-experiencing something, usually something you prayed never to experience again. Splendid. Tomorrow’s show brought to you by the letter S, as in sarcasm.
1:02pm
Why am I wearing sequins? Ask me why I’m wearing sequins today. Because everyone will say I look beautiful and not ask how I feel. Actually, I thought they’d make me feel better. The brush-off is a secondary benefit. It’s not making me feel any better.
I wanted to walk to catch the bus to lunch. But I missed that window of upset energy. Too much FUCKING planning. Now I’m tired and want to sleep and cry. I posted on my FB “I can’t do this.” P- said, “Do what?” Does it really matter?
Dear Me,
Stop saving me. I don’t want to be saved. Ya hear? Why aren’t you listening? Why can’t you DO something? Paralyzed by pain and fear. I don’t want to be here.
Yes you do! You just want to be loved. And YOU can’t give that to me. You fucking failure.
ME? I keep you alive. Every fucking day you don’t want to go on and I pull you out or put you to sleep or find you whatever crazy food will distract you long enough. You are the failure you. You NEVER change.
That’s right. I’m the failure. Saving lives and managing crazy people EVERYWHERE I go is failing.
Yes. You’re not doing what you love. You are withering.
I’m not withering. I’ve already died.
Then why are you still fucking up my life? WHY do I keep having to save you? to find reasons for you to go on?
Because I don’t want to die.
Can we make up our minds? I thought you were already dead.
I am.
No you’re not.
Yes I am.
Then how are you writing?
It’s you that’s writing, remember? You’re the one who keeps saving me.
I hate you.
I hate you too.
I’m still hungry.
Pizza?
You’re on.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
9-9-10 11:40pm
I was talking to a friend tonight about her new boyfriend and she was all stressed that (in a nutshell) they’re not forever material, that everything’s not quite right. I thought about it. I do it all the time. I did it tonight. I talked to a guy I kind of like and, while it may have appeared to be a conversation, it was more like math – a puzzle or equation. Does he fit? Is he what I need? Are our lives compatible? In reality it doesn’t matter. I can’t control forever. All I have is tonight and even that’s out of my hands. But I always come back to that. The forever trap.
Sugarland has a song “Settlin’” that says “Mr. Right Now not Mr. Forever.” While I do want a Mr. Forever, I want a Mr. Right Now. Because right now IS forever and it’s gone in a blink.
Right now I am happy, and cold.
Right now my thumb hurts from texting.
Right now I’m not worried about my problems. I’m just riding the trolley one-mindfully.
Right now.
I like right now.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
8-30-10 2:34am
Dear Magical Wish-granting Fairy in the Sky,
I wish for a clogging studio, please. The one I see in my head. It’s one of those dream/wishes that’s not really possible but that I’ve been dreaming about since I was little. I’ve yet to find a genie or a shooting star or a sugar daddy or to find hidden treasure. I thought maybe you could help me out. It’s worth asking, right? So, please, if you could. Help a sister out. Thanks.
Michelle
8-23-10 2:33am
I feel peaceful tonight, calm. (big smile) Listening to worship music on YouTube.
I was thinking about Tick Tick Tick today. The ending was missing something. On the end it should say, “So let’s play.” I’m not waiting for anything. If today is what I have, I’m gonna have fun. And I think you should too. Let it rain. Feel the drops on your face and smile. (rocking but happy)
Tonight is a haze. My body hurts but I’m happy. I feel free. I don’t know or care why. I feel like something big is about to happen that God’s been preparing me for. I don’t know what, good or bad, or why. I just know that it’s coming and whatever it is He’s got my back.
I am so grateful for what He’s given me. For my unique perspective. And for the ability to see that it’s time to play. Writing last night about illness and death somehow made me happy. It peaks my anxiety, but it’s like letting go of what isn’t and grabbing on to what is. And I like what is, even if it isn’t perfect.
(wave of nausea and trouble breathing… yawn.)
I can’t speak for tomorrow, but tonight I love and accept myself. It’s like a big warm hug from God. :)
—
It feels like I’m standing in the ocean and my emotions are changed with each passing wave… but the waves aren’t knocking me down.
—
It’s time to say goodnight… It’s time to say goodnight… It’s time to say goodnight (goodnight). It’s time to say goodnight… It’s time to say goodnight… (repeat until sleeping ;) )
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
8-22-10 2:56am
I was listening to Sacha talk to this guy on Friday about his son, a singer who’s not living up to his potential. And there was something she said that sticks with me. It’s a very small and powerful phrase. “Tick tick tick.” He’s 24 and time’s a wastin’. There’s not much left.
It has a different meaning for me, but it’s generally the same.
Tick tick tick
Your life is almost over
Tick tick tick
Before you melt away
Should you stay one more day
What will you be?
Will you be free?
Will your dreams come true or will you watch them melt away, today?
Tick tick tick
I don’t know what time it is
Tick tick
Or what day, or the year
Tick
I don’t care.
I just want to be happy.
Tick
How to be happy … what was I saying?
Tick tick
I know the time is running
Tick tick tick
Faster than I can see
Tick tick tick
And soon I will catch up,
Or maybe it will catch me.
But hopefully when we meet we’ll have some good stories to tell,
Of dancing (tick) and singing (tick) and feeling mighty swell.
Cuz when we meet up (tick) I won’t be walking away.
Tick tick tick.
Just give me one more day.
I know my clock is ticking, in every meaning of the phrase. It makes me quiet and fills my face with vapor. Tick tick. (close my eyes and sigh…) I won’t be walking away.
(thought continued in So Let’s Play)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
8-22-10 1:35am
I can’t remember what I did for my birthday this year. I remember the night before at Bing Crosby’s and the black dress. I remember at Ralphs not letting them buy me cupcakes (I don’t like Ralphs’ cupcakes.) I remember opening the four cards Mom got me and the bouquet of flowers, but I have no idea what I did that day. Maybe I was sick. I know there was a plan and that it didn’t get followed… (flash) Dinner at Rubio’s. Yes. That wasn’t the plan though. I don’t even remember if I had a party sometime that week. This concerns me as I think it’s something I SHOULD remember. Don’t you?
(break to watch the rest of “Blue Collar Comedy Tour Rides Again”)
I got out my ring last night that I bought when I tested negative for HD. I was thinking about it because last week Sacha mentioned wanting to buy herself an engagement ring and the ring I have is just that. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is. Sadly, after a few hours it hurt my finger so bad that I took it off. Apparently my fingers are fatter now. But I wondered what my reward to myself will be when I get the results of this upcoming test.
I’ve been waiting on a diagnosis for years now. And the list I was expecting from a friend is not coming so I called my neurologist Friday night on a break and told him which test I want him to order. There is one dx I’m looking at in particular. It’s called DRPLA. Good luck Googling it and finding anything useful. This is the best thing I found http://www.ataxia.org.uk/data/files/drpla.pdf. It seems to fit and I’m hoping it’s what I have – not because I want it but because I want an answer. I want a name, some validation. You know? I want to be able to say, “See, I’m not crazy. I DO have an illness and it has a name.” I’d have an answer for, “Why are you twitching?” I’d have some proof that’s it’s not, in fact, a conversion disorder but it is in my head. In my BRAIN, not my thoughts. In my fantasy today I would get this wonderful/awful news and have a Celebrate Life party. The news itself would be a relief. This part of the search would be over. However, if it’s not what I have, it would be devastating… I want to have that party. I want to know what’s going on.
I talked about it with my therapist this week. It’s great having a neurology professor as a therapist. I asked him if he had any tips on dealing with cognitive impairments and he said if it is cell death in that region of the brain the best thing I can do is dance. God is good, isn’t he? (big smile) I also bought a ping pong paddle and balls. It’s all part of the story, revealed one page at a time.
I’m so exhausted. I really should sleep now. I’m going to a piano thing tomorrow and have to be on the trolley in 8 hours. Yuck. Hopefully it’s worth it. Thanks for listening.
Love,
Michelle
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
6-10-10 3:15am
I reached two milestones recently that I’m proud of myself for. I’ve been blogging now for 4 months (131 posts so far) and June 23rd will mark one year out of the hospital for me. Two major things.
Last year at this time I was inpatient for my longest stay thus far, 28 days. By this point in the stay I had reached East Wing 2 and was a bit better but I was seeing things and hearing original electric guitar music and thinking in pictures and all sorts of shit. Since then, I’ve managed to shake most of the craziness. I spent 8 months at Scripps and now I’m just with my doctors and the group. And FB, of course. And the blog.
Blogging has been such a gift. I’m grateful for Sacha and Traci and Andrew’s encouragement. I have a band of mostly silent invisible followers. It’s like having friends that listen and never talk back. Sometimes frustrating but mostly comforting. I’m so honored to know people read this. Blogging gives me a place to put my thoughts that I have no one else to tell, and gives me something to tell the people I have no thoughts to give. Lol. Nice. :) It’s exciting for me, gives me a point of reference, helps me remember. And it’s been big in helping me share with people.
Sharing your innermost thoughts with the entire world is scary. But less so when you don’t care what they think. I’m addicted to my stats page. Since only like 3 people ever leave comments it’s a gamble to see how many hits I have each day and what people are looking at. While it loads I guess. What number will it be today? Sometimes it’s predictable, but there was a day a few weeks back when I had a TON of people and I hadn’t posted anything in several days. Weird. Oh well. Made me happy. Blogging is good for me.
So if I ask myself how it’s goin’, it’s goin’ well. I’m healthier mentally, sicker physically, and have a different perspective on life all around. I’m happy with who I am even if I’d like some things to be different. I’m taking steps in the right direction. I joined the Broadway San Diego Street Team this week, though I’m still not quite sure exactly what that means. I joined Jazz88 last week and bought an all-fair pass today. I also bought Sea World passes for me and my mom. Don’t tell her. She won’t know for a few more hours. I’m trying to add structure to my life that’s fun, not related to mental health or illness, and gives me something back. (big yawn) I’m proud of myself.
-Michelle
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
6-10-10 2:35am
Sorry I haven’t been writing. I just haven’t had the energy. I had a good week and now it’s time to work again, on illness that is, or with it. I’ve been inundated with symptoms. Another day of no moving or talking, constant exhaustion, weakness. In the past few days the large movements have come back. Today I was a buzz of zaps and weakness and sticking my tongue out all the time. In between I managed to do things. I went to therapy, then to Quizno’s (couldn’t breathe), then to the beach. I lasted about 20 minutes and climbed the stairs. Quite a feat. Went to the bay to see the big ships with Mom. I walked all over Target and made it almost to the checkout at Albertson’s before almost collapsing. That was nice. Zapping all over. Crashed in the car. Some more movements tonight and now I’m okay again, minus the frequent unwarranted blinking, grimacing and sticking out my tongue. I wrote on FB tonight:
In between God’s version of invisible lightning dances and frog imitations, today I saw Jim, went to the beach, looked at that big old ship that’s here from Portugal and went to Target and Albertson’s. Long but very good day. Tomorrow’s Mom’s birthday. Hopefully it will go well.
My primary goal, after staying alive, right now is to have fun. Followed by being with the people I love and staying away from the people who bug me. On any given day, just one is enough. But two or more is great. I told Jim today it was frustrating thinking I was going to die Saturday night (due to fucked up vital signs and the inability to breathe) because I actually like my life right now. He said he’d never heard me say that before. That was powerful. I’ve been with him for a year. And I don’t think I’ve felt like this before. I like my life when I’m doing things I love. I don’t WANT to die right now. And that’s a good thing.
I said that I’m trying to make the best of it, of being sick. I don’t know what it is and even if I did or when I do there’s probably not much I can do about it. He said, “It doesn’t sound like there is a best.” But he’s wrong. There is. It’s the music.
My mom doesn’t understand why I go out when I can barely walk or breathe. I keep trying to explain it to her. I don’t need more sleep. I could be sick anywhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s here at home or at a restaurant or concert. But I’m so much happier when I’m sick to live music than when I’m just sick at home. The music is healing. Just for a moment, nothing else matters. I can just be free. I can’t dance right now. But I can still hear the music. And trust me, I need it.
I’ve been working on this project for a few days for a friend. I’ll post all about it when I’m done. It’s meant to provide comfort, but it’s providing comfort to me. We talked about codependence today and giving versus receiving. Jim asked if the drama is really worth it. And right now, I think it is. Cuz if I can’t have what it is that I need right now, having something is better than nothing. My friend was telling me about the 5 Love Languages last week and I took the quiz on the website. In descending order, mine are: Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch, Receiving Gifts, and Acts of Service. I think it’s kind of a pecking order because if I can’t get quality time or words or touch I give gifts or do service. I need to give. But I need to receive as well.
I was listening to Celine Dion and crying last night with the main part of the project I’m working on. There is this song of hers that always gets me. “I Want You to Need Me.” (whooooooooooo…) Just listened again. Makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes I just want to scream, “What do you want from me?! Please, whatever it is, just tell me. Let me give you something or do something for you so you’ll spend time with me.” But I’ve realized the people I want to need me, they don’t want anything from me. There is nothing I can give to get the time that I need. And they don’t have that time to give. I’m just along for the ride. But until I find or get something, it’s a ride. The music. It helps.
M- posted today “Make a Wish!” and I held my breath in anticipation and excitement, then paused. What should I wish? I was torn between two things – my friends in pain being happy or my health. I wondered if not putting them first made me selfish or if I could find a second thing to wish on, but I settled for wishing for them first AND me. I’m getting there.
Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday. The gift I got her requires energy, which I don’t have, so I hope she okay for postponing it. Thanks for reading and sharing your time.
-Michelle
PS – I attempted to read a book today. Remind me not to do that again for awhile.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
5-26-10 2:46am
“Will I?” from RENT keeps playing again and again in my head tonight. It’s such a powerful song. It’s a many part round of this phrase:
Will I lose my dignity?
Will someone care?
Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
RENT was my soundtrack for several years. When I was living with Mary I listened to it for days at a time while pacing her backyard (when I wasn’t crocheting and watching Law & Order.) It speaks to me. At the time with being at-risk for HD it was particularly relevant. I was constantly wondering what would happen to me. The show is still relevant. I’m just less scared now.
I think practicing mindfulness and acceptance has really changed me. I know I’m going through something I can’t change, something I can’t fix. But I’m not scared right now. Just for today, I’m okay.
“One Song Glory” also speaks to me. Especially the line that says, “One song, before the virus takes hold.” I think I’m writing that song. I think that now is my time. You know?
Do you ever feel like something really big is happening in your life? Like you’ve gotten to this very moment for a reason and you’re about to find out?
I’m pretty sure I will lose my dignity. And I don’t know if someone will care. And I probably will not wake up tomorrow from this nightmare. But it’s okay… It’s okay.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010
Writing Towards Happy 