Acceptance

    Acceptance of Self and Others.We gladly accept the glorious, glamorous, gorgeous, flawless, fabulous. In ourselves and others. But acceptance of all the quirks, neurosis, foibles, flaws, insanities, imperfections, scars? To accept, unquestioning, unresistant, openly, happily. In ourselves and others. Accept the perfection of imperfection. See scars as tribute to a life lived. Insanities as the electricity in the wire. Quirks as the unexpected bite of pepper in the stew. Flaws as the openings to the heart. None can make it through life unmarked if they have lived a worthy life. None can bare their soul, open their heart, take risks, push boundaries, live, love, experience, and manage to come out the other side without an indelible mark A life well lived leaves traces behind, transfer evidence, that cannot hide from the light of day without crippling the soul and hindering joy. Yet we attempt to hide our flaws, ignore imperfections, medicate insanities, spackle over scars, dampen quirks. These elements that make us unique. Make us human. Accepting one's own imperfections is a hard row to hoe, but acceptance of self makes acceptance of others a simple task. Embrace the flaws, cherish the quirks, kiss the scars, revel in the insanity. See the perfection in imperfection. Accept.  

This Is Your Brain On Fatigue

    "This is Brain on Fatigue" *cue egg frying in skillet.* Fatigue acts as a mild hallucinogen on Brain. When tired, Brain wanders odd pathways with no set objective, much as in the days of my Misspent Youth when I was known to indulge in the "occasional" chemical recreation. No, never anything hardcore, just simple little voyages into mood altering substances. But I digress, this is not a confessional of my halcyon days, but merely an attempt to explain. And so fatigue, legal and socially acceptable, flips on the mental meanderings most can only access through consumption of illicit chemicals, and withe far fewer messy side effects. I consider myself quite fortunate, I never have to rely on induced intoxication, though Fatigue has its own weird hangover.
    Day in and day out I am usually in one form of altered state or another; Mania, Melancholy, Fatigue, Euphoria. Each has its own unique form of altered perception. Mania easily replicates the unrelenting, spastic energy of amphetamines. Melancholy has the cry-in-your beer, achy, lethargic, sleep disrupting earmarks of alcohol, as well as the self-flagellating, degrading delusional aspects of  long term heroin abuse. No, I have never tried heroin, so that particular comparison is based on speculation and observation. Fatigue has the laid back, spaced out, meandering mind, demotivational, attention deficit aspects of a bong hit, replete with munchies. Euphoria is a drug unto itself, an altered state that is more elusive than the others, and far more desirable then, say, Melancholy, and reminds me of a mild acid trip with heightened perceptions, boundless energy, and a brain misfiring on all cylinders.
    But lately, Fatigue has been more the constant companion. Largely from lifestyle choices, racing through the summer taking every advantage to play, compete, workout, work outside, cycle, run, motorcycle, see the sights, enjoy our brief summer. There is too much to do to waste time sleeping. I figure my annual hibernation mode is only a few months away, and then there will be plenty of time to rest. Once the autumn rains come, and they will come, then I can sleep. But for now, I am enjoying Life. I am partaking in as many opportunities as I can. I am exploring options, pushing boundaries, stepping outside the parameters that confined me for so long. So Fatigue will be my companion, with all the unusual effects. I will let Brain meander, wander in circles, step out to lunch, run on autopilot. But I also know Brain will be there in full frontal when needed. So this is Brain on Fatigue, silly, spaced out, goofy, short circuiting Brain. We will rest, one of these days, but not quite yet.

Feasting With Both Hands

    I was once accused of being addicted to drama. Okay, actually was accused of it more than a few times. I denied it then, and deny it now. But none the less, I find life is more exciting with the unpredictability of tumultuous emotions, random power surges, near misses with catastrophe, the warm touch of chaos, the frigid hand of Melancholy, the fire of Mania, and don't forget my Demons that wait in the wing for their cue. Add a second personality into the mix and what is a fragile balance quickly becomes a tightrope act without a net. And I like it that way. The frisson of danger that lurks just beneath the surface. Under my surface. Just under the skin, the potential for cataclysmic event, maelstrom, whirlwind. The whirlwind has dominated these last few months, propelling me through life, carried in a vortex that is only just barely within my control. It is exciting, the power, danger, chaos, lunacy. Do I seek it? No. It finds me. But I do not discourage it. Few can understand the thrill of the epic coaster ride within my own head. Few would know and understand the gamut of emotions that can roil through my body from quaking panic to joyous hysterics to weeping melancholy to rampant mania. Few would understand the appeal of this leap from one extreme to the next. Most would be quick to medicate it down to a soothing beige. True, I am on meds and supplements, but mostly to keep from teetering over the edge and falling too deep into the abyss. It is not to take the wild colors from my life, to drain the verve, steal the electricity. Yes, there are days of grey. Days when the color has been leached from my vision. But I know it is temporary. I know that all I need do is wait for Melancholy to loose its grip, and soon enough Mania will be back in blazing technicolor. Even the negative, the trembling, panicked, gut wrenching, weeping desperation has an intensity that I can relish in the afterglow.
    Am I addicted to drama? Only if I can say I am addicted to life. Addicted to My Life. Because what is Life without Drama? It is a half-life, a token of reality, a smear of emotion. I am not addicted to drama, but I will feast of it with both hands, willingly. I will feast of My Life, gluttonously, for it is a feast. A glorious, unimaginable feast.

Crash and Burn

    I worry. I feel a pending Crash and Burn, and it is not the season. It is coming, as inevitable as the tides. It hovers over me like a heavily loaded slope of snow, waiting for any sudden noise to release the avalanche, the tumbling mass, a white out, painful, tumbling, crashing, chaotic. I can sense it. And pray to the gods that there is silence, calm, quiet, no sudden outbursts or explosions to release that leading edge, freeing the entire mountainside to come and consume me, swallow me whole, bury me in the cold, white nothingness.The foreboding. All the signs are there, if one knows how to read them. I have had ample experience in reading the telltale signs, far too much experience.
    There is a slight advantage to knowing the earmarks of an imminent crash, the foreknowledge lets me take precautions, take certain measures to lessen my impact with the earth. I know what to do, though it is much like waiting in a bunker for the bombs to land and praying that there is not an calamitous direct hit. It is the best I can do.
    Now all I can do is wait, hope for calm, hope for quiet. I flex my fingers, wipe perspiration from my palms and hold on for dear life. I cannot trust autopilot with this one. The controls are in my hands. Maybe I can hope for a controlled crash. They say any landing you can walk away from is a good landing. I just want to be able to walk away.

My Gift, My Superpower, The Price I Pay

    "Sticks and stones may break my bones.... but words can really hurt me."

    Sensitive. Delicate. Fragile. Gentle.  Having a sensitive Spirit is not an easy burden to carry through life. At times I wish I could harden myself, toughen up, desensitize. But I cannot. It is impossible. I know, because I have tried, tried and failed. I cannot count the number of self pep talks, self-analysis, probing, and rallying of Spirit that I have perpetrated upon myself. I am an expert at shoring myself up during easy moments, but a failure at holding fast to those shorings when put to the test. No matter how strong is Body, how logical is Brain, neither can manage to protect Spirit when the need arises. Is this my weakness? My Achilles's Heel? Is it my cross to bear? Or is it one of my greatest strengths? In the midst of an emotional crash, crises, shattering, it feels like nothing less than sheer and abject failure of strength, weakness of character. I so easily  revert to injured child, quivering lip, eyes filling with unwanted tears. Even in the depths of my pain and angst I feel an anger towards myself for what, at that moment, I can see as only weakness. But once the pain has passed, the child has been comforted, Spirit has crept out from hiding, then I can look back on whatever caused the crippling reaction with understanding and empathy.
    Empathy is my Superpower. Empathy is my Gift. Empathy is my Magic. I know this. I love this aspect of myself. But it carries a high price. A price I pay daily. It is what makes me hypersensitive to the Power of gestures, the Power of the spoken word, the Power of  emotion, the Power that surrounds every creature I come into contact with. Empathy makes interaction difficult, emotions rolling off of others like waves of palpable energy, for good or ill. Empathy makes me feel the hurt and pain of others as a physical manifestation that cannot be ignored or easily dealt with. At times I wish for a simple treatment, a drug, a vaccine, against this ability to feel so deeply, so easily. A pill to numb my senses. But I would never actually do such a thing. Instead I work myself to exhaustion, for in sheer fatigue I do find an ability to somewhat normalize my reactions. The flipside of this is that when I am exhausted, every chink in my armor becomes exposed, and it is flimsy armor at best. So I can calm my reaction to everyday interactions, but am less able to withstand a frontal assault. It is a payoff. And I have to hope that I can make it through a day without assault. If an assault comes, intentional or not, I crumple before it. I cannot withstand the impact. I crawl into myself, wishing to block out the world, hiding, crying, berating myself for my helplessness, forceless as a child. I tell myself that the next time I will stand firm, stand tall, stand up and fight. I tell myself that Body and Brain will step up to the plate for Spirit and defend to the death. But when blindsided, all my resolve disappears with the first unshed tear.
    Empathy, it is my greatest weakness, and my greatest strength. It is what makes me the individual I am. It fuels my passions, and feeds my pain. It bares my soul, flays my emotions, opens me to damage, makes me cautious and yet reckless. Empathy lets me love deeply despite the threat of potential devastation. Empathy opens portals to unimaginable highs. It gives a zest to life that only the threat of a deadly Crash and Burn can bring. It is a fine line, a tightrope with no net. Empathy is my Superpower, and as every geek knows, every Superpower has its Price. I pay the price, daily, some days dearly. I pay the price, but would not change it if I could.

Weirdweirdweird

    Oh the weirdness that is my life. Weird, wonderful, worrisome, wearying, wonky, whacked, and weirdweirdweird. Weird in the changes being wrought upon Brain, Body and Spirit by forces both internal and external. Brain has ceased to fire on all cylinders these days, leaving me spacey, tired, confused and at times feeling adrift inside my own skull. Brain struggles with daily duties; morning routine, getting out the door on time, remembering where I put keys, phone, swim cap. Days go by when it seems as if Brain must have stayed in bed, trusting Body and Spirit to be able to take the controls for a while and run on autopilot. The easiest excuse is "hormones." That does lay the blame at the feet of that sinister villain that has plagued my life from pre-puberty, through teen angst, pregnancy, adulthood, and now into menopause. Menopause, fuck, seriously? As if the ignominy of hitting my half century mark wasn't enough on my plate this particular year, now I get to feel the full brunt of the hormonal shitstorm of menopause. It is worse than the hormonal chaos of pregnancy. At least with pregnancy there is a time frame, a carefully measured date and time, as well as the a baby at the end of it for a grand Ta-Da. But now I get the nausea, cramps, aches, pains, fatigue, food aversions, mental shutdown, sleep disorders, general G.I. fucked up-ness, night sweats, hot flashes, and all with no limit, no schedule, no end in sight. Just random freaky shit that crops up sporadically, yet more frequently, mimics frightening medical issues, and seems to lay in wait for the least convenient moment to slap me upside the head with something annoying and uncomfortable.
    I think the hardest part for me to cope with is the fatigue and spaciness. I have a full life, needing Body and Brain to be in the game at top performance levels, not lagging, flagging and dragging. Lassitude, lethargy, languor and listlessness are not a part of the game plan. There is too much to do and never enough time as it is. I cannot waste time wishing for more sleep, lounging in my favorite chair, searching for lost keys, taking a "rest day." A Rest Day? What the hell is that? There is no such thing. For me a day of Rest mostly means I can sleep a little later, have a cup of coffee and breakfast before getting dressed and starting in on the endless To-Do List that dominates my fridge door. There is no down time. Not really.
    And how do I cope with my chronic lethargy? Body's languor? Brain's malaise? Spirit adds more to the plate. We take on more activities, more responsibilities. New endeavors, new adventures, new challenges. Am I insane? Well, yes, I have never denied that. But in this particular case, am I Insane?! By the gods, can't I slow down, take it easy, relax, rest? No, I can't. Not now. Not when there is so much to do. So many new, exciting avenues to tread. Adventures. Pleasures. Discoveries. Challenges. Races to Run. Places to go. Experiences to savor. Now is not the time for Rest, it is time for Life Redefined. My Life, re-imagined, renewed, revived, raucous, rowdy, reinvented, restored, rampant, relevant, real. Relevant and Real. My Life.
    Now is not the time to sit on the sidelines, to be benched, to give a doctor's note. Now is the time to reach deep for that energy that will sustain me for this leg of the race. I have been told "don't leave anything on the course." Don't finish a race with energy to spare that could have been used on the course. So, despite Crashing Fatigue (the latest smack upside the head), chronic fatigue and mental short circuits I will keep pushing, adding challenges, upping the ante. Despite Brain's malfunctions and Body's lethargy, Spirit will keep pushing, playing and participating to the fullest. We know of no other way. Giving up is not an option. Quitting is not a part of my vernacular. Taking it easy is a foreign concept. Full speed ahead. Nothing by halves. Push ahead, break through the wall, catch a second or third wind, find my stride, and finish strong. We know of no other way.

Fire Within, and Fire Realized

    As life keeps propelling me forward at a breakneck pace, tonight I take another step towards a new adventure, and even more excitement to pile into my already frenetic life. Tonight is my first official meeting as a volunteer firefighter. I have passed the Firefighter's Physical Agility Test, passed the drug test, passed several interviews, and now I step into the Station as a newb and probie, but also as "one of us." Tonight I will get my first set of Turn Outs, the protective gear worn when on a call. True, the academy is not until January, and that is when I will truly learn what it means to be a firefighter. To say I am excited would be an understatement.
    I know this has come as a surprise to many people. But what they do not know is that I have long harbored the desire to be a volunteer firefighter. It has been a deep secret sheltered within my heart for my entire adult life. This is a dream that I have never dared whisper to a soul, but every time I would pass a station, or see a fire engine, the secret would whisper to me. I knew when my sons were young that risky endeavors were not to be undertaken, but now with both sons grown and independent, my life is my own to risk or not to risk. I know that chances of serious injury are likely slim, but there is always risk when dealing with a potentially dangerous unknown.
    I wish I had taken this step sooner. I wish I had let myself set aside more self-indulgent expenditures of my time, or tried to fit more into every day, or just allowed myself to make the decisive step. But the time was not yet ripe. As those who know me will attest, once I make a decision I do not like to hesitate or procrastinate. But as one who knows myself, I know that I can procrastinate and hedge when a reality is a bit frightful. Though it has been a long standing desire, I have hesitated for it is a scary prospect, but once I made my decision to step up to the plate I felt I couldn't act quickly enough.
    One aspect I find amusing, ironic, and more than a little bit apropos is my acknowledgement of my own Inner Fire. My Elemental Fire. I have a fire that lives within me that can flare easily from ember to maelstrom with the slightest of provocation. Along with my inner fire, there has been my well documented spiritual journey through fire. I have been singed and burned to the core, figuratively. I have written so often of spiritual Fire, as an entity that surrounds me, fills me and inspires me. Fire that cleanses, purges, and purifies. Fire that inspires, motivates and drives me. And now to step into a new phase of life when Fire will become a literal entity, a physical motivation, a force to be understood, respected. No longer will the fire in my life be only The Fire Within.
    There is a quiet excitement and exultation that simmers in my heart at the thought of things to come. Yes, I am sure the bulk of my experiences will be mundane, even boring. But there is the opportunity to help, to contribute, to make a difference within my own community. I am excited. I am going to be a Firefighter.