Never Go To Bed Angry

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“Never go to bed angry” is one of the earlier pieces of advice I heard, or read, or somehow acquired.  Who knows where from, or what it was for, or why, but it’s advice I have occasionally worked quite hard to follow.

Tonight is an excellent example.  Tonight I am feeling very put upon and sorry for myself – to be honest, I have been for most of the week, because this week has been awful, and I feel like I’ve been dumped on by people who should be trying to relieve my burdens, and by people who I felt should have recognised that.

I have been sick.  Not sniffles sick, but full on fever, vomiting, delirium, the works.  This will be the fifth day.  I still have a fever.

On top of that we’ve had no power to our hot water cylinder, which I’ve been tasked with finding a resolution for (long story, no one wants it to be their fault, I JUST WANT HOT WATER).

The dog had a really bad hotspot and needed to be seen by the vet.  That same night my friend’s dearly beloved cat and companion took a very sudden turn for the worse, and when I met her in the emergency clinic, it was decided that she would not be returning home with us.

I had a nurse’s appointment, then a doctor’s appointment.  An exam.  Still no hot water.

My lovely human (who I will gently address this with) said with a stern voice “we have to do something about this food in the fridge, it’s all going to go off!  We’re going to have to give it away!”  Except his tone of voice meant that I was the one who would have to do this, along with everything else.  “I can smell the dog, you’ll have to clean the cushions after this,” while I’m lying on the couch, unable to keep more than toast and honey down or stay conscious for much longer than an hour.

I am exhausted.  Tonight I mistook the dog’s medication for the cat’s medication, so off we went to the after hours vet clinic to have vomiting induced (which didn’t happen … until we got home!).  I even had a little cry in the waiting room while everything just hit me.

So I’m feeling very sad and put upon.  And not without reason, either, it’s been a catastrophically shit week and it just doesn’t seem to want to end.  It’s taking a lot of effort not to mope and sulk and be petty.  It’s when I feel like this that I know I’m at nope point and I need to take some time to relax.

A bit of music goes a long way, so while I’m waiting for my cat to be a bit more conscious, I’m chilling.  Then I will sleep!

Massage Therapy and Fibromyalgia

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I have always found I benefited from a deep tissue massage.  When working in my more boutique workplaces, we would have heavily subsidised 15-20 minute back massages every fortnight in the office.  The good ones would get right in there with their thumbs and elbows, while the not so good ones would give a formulaic “back rub”.

Unfortunately for me the waiting list for the local (good) masseuse is … rather long, and they’re not exactly cheap.  Which is good, they are worth the money, only it’s money I don’t have for regular massages.  So when a shiatsu massage pillow came up for sale on one of the facebook groups I’m on, I leaped at the chance!

I’ve had it for just over a week now.  I’ve used it every night.  It is amazing.

The first night I wholeheartedly over did it.  I slowly worked my way down my entire back, pressed the shiatsu balls to my hips and legs, to the pressure points around my knees.  It was too much at once, and while I felt sick the next day, I also felt less painful.

I’ve used it almost every night since and I have seen a tremendous improvement in my overall wellbeing.  I typically spend an hour slowly working my way down my back.  I really notice when I haven’t done my lower back properly – my hips ache a lot more if I haven’t.  I go all the way to the ischial tuberosity in the butt cheeks.  If I have time, I do the undersides of my thighs and my calves, by propping the massage pillow up on another pillow while sitting on the couch.

For me, I feel like a lot of my issues stem from nervous innervation from my lower back – these are the areas that are most affected for me, from my gastrointestinal tract downwards.  It stands to reason, then, that heated massage to bring circulation and relaxation to my lower back would improve things.

And it really, really has.  I haven’t been using my cane as much.  I’ve been doing more, feeling better, having a clearer head, and being in less pain.  It has been amazing.

I’m now eyeballing what I can get to do the entirety of my back in one sitting, instead of having to ease the pillow down step by step (and missing bits of my back) over an hour.  I’m sure there’ll be something suitable!

A Big “Fuck You” Kind Of Day

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It’s a beautiful day.

The sun is shining, the breeze keeps it cool enough to wear pants, all the animals are curled up and snoozing, and I have a large break from university.

I just want to scream at the world and hit inanimate objects and swear at the sky and flip off the butterflies.

They’ve done nothing to offend me, I’m just having a big “fuck you” kind of day.

It’s one of those days where I feel itchy inside my own skin, as though it’s wrong.  It’s one of those days where my elbow aches and my stomach won’t unclench and I have a permanent unimpressed bitchface going on.

I’ve done some woosah.  I’ve listened to my relaxing music and done my best to let it sweep me away.  I’ve done some stretches to ease my sore muscles.  I’ve stretched my back.  My last port of call is going to be a few minutes out in the sun.

Even though I’m doing all of these things, and they’re not quite working enough, I’m not fighting the feeling of almost manic anxiety and frustration.  Not fighting it takes conscious thought and effort, because we naturally want to push away the bad feelings and not feel them.  Unfortunately, that makes the bad feelings worse, because fighting them is also a negative feeling.

So when I’m having one of these days and I notice myself getting pent up trying to fight off the bad feelings, I take a big deep breath and relax my stomach as I exhale.  I take another deep breath and relax my stomach further, then work on my shoulders, my neck, and lastly my face.  I make ridiculous faces as I stretch out my muscles from their scrowl and reset my eyebrows, the muscles around my eyes (which always pinch when I’m stressed), my mouth and my chin.

And I just do this every time I notice I get pent up, which is every few minutes.

It’s interesting how much of an impact your facial features have on your mentality.  Or the way your body is, how clenched your stomach is, how tight your hips are.

Mental state is tied intrinsically with body state.  They influence one another, and a change in one produces a change in the other.  So it stands to reason that in order to relax the mind, one must also relax the body.

There are many methods of relaxing the body.  I find using music helps, as it gives me an external thing to focus on while I work my way through my muscle groups.  I also find lying in the sun helps, as the sun warms tight muscles and helps them relax.

It’s difficult to not go boneless like a cat in the sun!

 

Photo by W A T A R I on Unsplash

The Power of Music

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I’ve been having a bit of a crappy weekend.  Things went, but things never quite went well.  I was tired, technology wasn’t working, there’s too much clutter in the house that I just don’t have the energy or motivation to sort out, and I’m feeling a bit sulky because I feel like I’m the only one who does the dishes.  Which is partly true, and something I’m slowly working on.

I’m supporting a friend through a particularly rough period involving a narcissistic friend, and it’s bringing a lot to the surface because of how we’ve both been abused.

I mistakenly watched “Abducted in Plain Sight” and watched a narcissistic psychopath paedophile seduce the mother, sexually abuse the father, and then horrifically sexually abuse the daughter, all the while abusing and manipulating everyone.

I think my amazing human is a wee bit depressed – he’s holing up a bit.

Then It messaged me.  I just about backflipped.  I was not in a headspace to interact with It at all.  I could feel myself beginning to escalate into an anxiety attack.

I decided I didn’t have time for that and went straight to Youtube where, bless their algorithms, they had We’re All We Need by Above and Beyond on my front page.  After the first 20 seconds of letting the music flow over me, I was in a wonderful state of relaxation (okay, there is probably also a lot of emotional repression going on) and able to manage the less than pleasant interaction.

I’m still a bit antsy, it’s one of those days, but I’m a lot more relaxed than I was.

Being Open

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I have slowly but surely begun to come out of my shell of …  some of it was self pity, most of it was self care.  Regardless, I have been unclenching myself and allowing myself to be more open and honest with everyone around me about my difficulties.

Some days it’s harder than others.

Some people say “I can cure you, I promise!” and I ignore them, because there is no cure for fibromyalgia, generalised anxiety, and PTSD.  There is only management.

Some of them look at me strangely.  I am sharing too much of myself, and the honesty has made them uncomfortable.  Even the superficial information makes them uncomfortable – I’d never want to see their faces if I were to describe anything in any detail or depth.

And then others say “I am walking the same path you are, and it sucks, and I am here for you”.  They say “this is what I have found useful for me, it may be useful for you”.  They say “I know what you feel”.

It is worth the other reactions to find the ones who understand, the ones who are going through something similar to what you are going through.  Because you need people who understand you, and you need people you understand.  Who speak your language and intimately know the trials you are going through.  There is such compassion in those people.

But there’s another benefit to being open – you’re not bottling it all up.  By letting it out, you’re owning your trauma and releasing it in some way.  I’ve felt lighter since being more open about everything.  It’s a relief.