True about warning labels. Oh yeah. Almost made that mistake myself (within the last year) so I have some symapthy, though what saved me from a similar fate? Reading the warning label (and consulting a drug interaction database, which granted most people do not even know exists, let alone when/how to employ it.)
www.epocrates.com is a friend.
w/o complaint? I'm in a bit of a thicket. This morning I realized it felt like my body, the one that is typing this to you is one end of a barbell. My emotions, everything I'm trying to own and contain, my fears, my shame, my pain, the must do's, the things for which I am very fortunate, the mask, the part of me that must act as if it knows what to do even when silently screaming in confusion are all the other end of that barbell. If I try to unpack it right now, I will have a gross imbalance, a hemorrhage of sorts. Yet I have a growing awareness that if I don't figure out something soon, no amount of direct pressure, "butching it up", pretending I'm fine when *I* know very clearly that I am not will stop what wells up... well, I don't need to continue this hyperbole, and I know many will be thankful if I don't. I'm "not okay," but I can't engage with the "not okay" right now because there is no room for things to not be okay, or I may drop everything. If I don't deal with it soon, the damage done may have unseen and irreversible effects.
It's not that I don't give thanks everyday for everything wonderful around me, and I acknowledge how incredibly fortunate I am to be sitting here. Always, I have to be cognizant of how what I say or don't say will affect others. I feel equally damned for what I feel I need to say and what I feel I can't or don't know how to say. There are no easy solutions--nothing that doesn't feel sloppy somehow.
Lately, I embrace a line in Stone Butch Blues which talks about having to be an authority in one's own life and not having anyone to ask for advice. And that the business of surviving doesn't leave much luxury to think about it. I gave myself the luxury of an hour to put this into words. There isn't room for more. I have no one to blame but myself, and I own that. So, onward.
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www.epocrates.com is a friend.
w/o complaint? I'm in a bit of a thicket. This morning I realized it felt like my body, the one that is typing this to you is one end of a barbell. My emotions, everything I'm trying to own and contain, my fears, my shame, my pain, the must do's, the things for which I am very fortunate, the mask, the part of me that must act as if it knows what to do even when silently screaming in confusion are all the other end of that barbell. If I try to unpack it right now, I will have a gross imbalance, a hemorrhage of sorts. Yet I have a growing awareness that if I don't figure out something soon, no amount of direct pressure, "butching it up", pretending I'm fine when *I* know very clearly that I am not will stop what wells up... well, I don't need to continue this hyperbole, and I know many will be thankful if I don't. I'm "not okay," but I can't engage with the "not okay" right now because there is no room for things to not be okay, or I may drop everything. If I don't deal with it soon, the damage done may have unseen and irreversible effects.
It's not that I don't give thanks everyday for everything wonderful around me, and I acknowledge how incredibly fortunate I am to be sitting here. Always, I have to be cognizant of how what I say or don't say will affect others. I feel equally damned for what I feel I need to say and what I feel I can't or don't know how to say. There are no easy solutions--nothing that doesn't feel sloppy somehow.
Lately, I embrace a line in Stone Butch Blues which talks about having to be an authority in one's own life and not having anyone to ask for advice. And that the business of surviving doesn't leave much luxury to think about it. I gave myself the luxury of an hour to put this into words. There isn't room for more. I have no one to blame but myself, and I own that. So, onward.