Shut the fuck up. Please.
I was at my support group the other day and having a bad day. I had woken up from a nightmare...again. Woken up several times in the middle of the night in pain. Once, I couldn't move my left leg without excruciating pain. I carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying not to cry out and wake up T. Found my CBD oil. Rubbed it into my knee. It began to work almost immediately. The pain eased. Then, another time I woke up and my right shoulder ached so badly that I felt a pulse. Again, I found my CBD oil. Again. It helped. It never fails to amaze me that something so simple can do what all the opioids can't. So far.
T came in and said goodbye as she left for school. We kissed. I carefully slid back under the blankets.
"You won't have nightmares, just soft sleep," she had said. She knew that this was my danger time for nightmares. I have no idea why but for some reason, I tend to have nightmares between 7-10 a.m. I guess that a solution would be to just get up, but I am still so sleepy at 7. I went back to sleep.
Woke up with a nightmare. A stupid recurring one. I was somewhere alone. Like a tenement house. I was sharing a twin bed with another woman. She stank. I guess I must have smelled badly, too. We were in like....a poor house. I had been lucky to even get a bed. Everything hurt but I was expected to get up and work. I had some sort of job making food. I was nauseated but did it anyway. I hurt so badly and was so sleepy but TERRIFIED of losing my job.
Kind of a strange dream, I know. I woke up when the woman in my bed tried to strangle me. She kept saying it wasn't personal.
So...yeah...woke up gasping and crying.
This happens frequently. The bad dreams. Not always the same, but some version.
So, I got up and went to the support group even though I felt pretty rough. I do not handle the cold well. I am always freezing. Sometimes, in the car I start to warm up but T ends up looking towards me and saying things like, "I am going to turn the heat to dual, okay? I'm melting." I will look at her and see her sweaty face and realize that 90 degrees is not everyone's cup of tea. We keep our heat on 68 in the Winter in the house to save money and energy. I sometimes wear two sweaters, a hat, and a scarf inside my own house.
But, okay....back to the support group. Jewel was there. I like Jewel, in general. She is the most upbeat person alive. She has been dealing with metastatic breast cancer (MBC) for over 8 years and is always praising Jesus and the power of prayer for this. What bothers me is that she seems to have no idea that this might seem a little insensitive to those around her who die quickly. Did they not pray enough? Jesus just didn't like them as much as her?
The truth is that Jesus has nothing to do with healing and everything to do with strength. I am still not totally sold on the fact that there even is a God, but if there is.....I am willing to bet that it isn't survival of the ones who pray the hardest. But there was Jewel. Hands in air, proclaiming a beautiful day that her lord created. Hugging everyone, telling them that everything was going to be beautiful that day.
Maybe she is right and I'm just on the wrong frequency. But, truthfully? I think it is good to try to be hopeful, but okay if you feel as if everything is totally fucked up and you feel like you got kicked to the curb while everyone else got to get up, fix their hair and head for work.
I finally gave myself permission to feel a bitch a few months ago. To listen to some teenager in the lobby whine at her Mom who obviously felt like shit and was wearing an ill fitting wig about how she really needed some decent clothes....that all she had in her closet were rags.
I know I am old. But, seriously? I would NEVER have DARED to talk to my Mother that way. And if she had cancer? I would never have had the heart to act like that.
So, I did it. It was time to go to support group. I had been waiting in the phlebotomy lab. I got up and leaned down and said, very quietly in her ear, " "Shut the fuck up. Please." The girl looked daggers at me. I snickered as I walked away.
Did she think I couldn't take on a little brat like her?
And then there was Jewel, doing her Praise God talk all over the place. I didn't tell her to shut up. I knew she meant well.
And then I got to thinking about that teenager. She didn't need me telling her to shut up. Yes. She was acting like a brat. Yes, she obviously was an entitled young person who felt wronged. But. What was going to be the outcome? Was she suddenly going to learn to show a little compassion? Doubtful. I might have even made it worse.
Which brings me to the question. When is it okay to step in and correct someone who is behaving like an entitled brat?
I just don't know. What do you think?
T came in and said goodbye as she left for school. We kissed. I carefully slid back under the blankets.
"You won't have nightmares, just soft sleep," she had said. She knew that this was my danger time for nightmares. I have no idea why but for some reason, I tend to have nightmares between 7-10 a.m. I guess that a solution would be to just get up, but I am still so sleepy at 7. I went back to sleep.
Woke up with a nightmare. A stupid recurring one. I was somewhere alone. Like a tenement house. I was sharing a twin bed with another woman. She stank. I guess I must have smelled badly, too. We were in like....a poor house. I had been lucky to even get a bed. Everything hurt but I was expected to get up and work. I had some sort of job making food. I was nauseated but did it anyway. I hurt so badly and was so sleepy but TERRIFIED of losing my job.
Kind of a strange dream, I know. I woke up when the woman in my bed tried to strangle me. She kept saying it wasn't personal.
So...yeah...woke up gasping and crying.
This happens frequently. The bad dreams. Not always the same, but some version.
So, I got up and went to the support group even though I felt pretty rough. I do not handle the cold well. I am always freezing. Sometimes, in the car I start to warm up but T ends up looking towards me and saying things like, "I am going to turn the heat to dual, okay? I'm melting." I will look at her and see her sweaty face and realize that 90 degrees is not everyone's cup of tea. We keep our heat on 68 in the Winter in the house to save money and energy. I sometimes wear two sweaters, a hat, and a scarf inside my own house.
But, okay....back to the support group. Jewel was there. I like Jewel, in general. She is the most upbeat person alive. She has been dealing with metastatic breast cancer (MBC) for over 8 years and is always praising Jesus and the power of prayer for this. What bothers me is that she seems to have no idea that this might seem a little insensitive to those around her who die quickly. Did they not pray enough? Jesus just didn't like them as much as her?
The truth is that Jesus has nothing to do with healing and everything to do with strength. I am still not totally sold on the fact that there even is a God, but if there is.....I am willing to bet that it isn't survival of the ones who pray the hardest. But there was Jewel. Hands in air, proclaiming a beautiful day that her lord created. Hugging everyone, telling them that everything was going to be beautiful that day.
Maybe she is right and I'm just on the wrong frequency. But, truthfully? I think it is good to try to be hopeful, but okay if you feel as if everything is totally fucked up and you feel like you got kicked to the curb while everyone else got to get up, fix their hair and head for work.
I finally gave myself permission to feel a bitch a few months ago. To listen to some teenager in the lobby whine at her Mom who obviously felt like shit and was wearing an ill fitting wig about how she really needed some decent clothes....that all she had in her closet were rags.
I know I am old. But, seriously? I would NEVER have DARED to talk to my Mother that way. And if she had cancer? I would never have had the heart to act like that.
So, I did it. It was time to go to support group. I had been waiting in the phlebotomy lab. I got up and leaned down and said, very quietly in her ear, " "Shut the fuck up. Please." The girl looked daggers at me. I snickered as I walked away.
Did she think I couldn't take on a little brat like her?
And then there was Jewel, doing her Praise God talk all over the place. I didn't tell her to shut up. I knew she meant well.
And then I got to thinking about that teenager. She didn't need me telling her to shut up. Yes. She was acting like a brat. Yes, she obviously was an entitled young person who felt wronged. But. What was going to be the outcome? Was she suddenly going to learn to show a little compassion? Doubtful. I might have even made it worse.
Which brings me to the question. When is it okay to step in and correct someone who is behaving like an entitled brat?
I just don't know. What do you think?
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