A very good friend of mine posted this link, on Facebook, with the following comment:
http://www.foxnews.com/opinion/2012/09/14/staying-celibate-before-marriage-was-best-thing-ive-ever-done/
"This article is an excellent example of how the social construct of "virginity" can turn someone into a holier-than-thou asshole. It is also my expert opinion that this guy has a small penis."
Now, I rarely get into arguments on Facebook. It's not that I never write anything offensive, because I do quite a bit, I just don't see the point of making people angry when they already know, by the way I live, that I don't see eye to eye with them. Most of my friends are from the secular atmophere, and I've come to accept them, despite their faults, and show them Christ by my love. They know I accept them - not their sin - and it is this fact which has earned me friends of all colours. This type of article and sarcastic comment I would usually pass over, ignoring the inner contradictions, but this time, the issue was too important to me to say nothing. This was what I replied:
"First, I just want to say that this guy is an idiot. The article is badly written and offensive for the sake of being offensive rather than trying to simply explain why waiting is worth it. I mean, I waited; Benny waited… and our sexual relationship is anything but awkward. The wedding night itself wasn’t even airbrushed by anxiety or nervousness about potentially bad performance – on either side – because we were so excited to give ourselves completely to one another. The fact that we could enjoy that union without even considering anything like negative “Sex with _____was so much more satisfying” or even positive: “Man, he’s way better than ____.” We didn’t have a set of sexual standards in our heads that the other person had to meet, and it was a relief to both of us that we would never be measured, sexually, based upon the experience of the other.
Also, we are both so eager to please one another that we never think: “Wow, I wish I had more experience with lots of people so that I knew a lot of technique.” Actually, just having one another has meant that we are learning the needs, impulses, and pleasures of the other. Every day, we learn how to better please one another. It’s a really awesome gift, and I’m very glad I waited. I mean, even if I had just slept with Benny before we married, there would have been no awesome wedding night, because all the anticipation of waiting and the build of tension is lost.
I’m not condemning people who don’t wait, contrary to this guy. I mean, I think it’s a wonderful idea, and I think everyone should wait, but I understand that there are a lot of things that contribute to loss of virginity, and I can’t shun people for being human. I’ve done poorly in other areas that I’m not proud of, so I definitely am not better than them.
Mostly, this is what I think: sex is awesome, and it’s worth waiting for the perfect moment."
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
Other Blog...
I realized, recently, that this blog is so different in purpose than my other blog that I have never linked the two. This blog is completely random in design and purpose; however, the other one is specifically a poetry blog, where I "showcase" my current poetry projects and experiment with juxtaposing music and poetry, which I think is a beautiful art. So, here is the link! If you enjoy poetry of any sort, you'll probably find something you like. Some is very dark, some is funny, some is purely experimental:
http://kinshop.blogspot.com/
http://kinshop.blogspot.com/
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Attending an Antipodal Church
Now, just to clarify before I even start, this post is not meant to bash another church, theology, or even to say which one is right or wrong. I do have certain beliefs which will show, because it is inevitable that one often thinks he or she is right. I only want to share my thoughts on how it feels to attend a church that is founded on theology about as opposite of mine as you can get in the protestant group.
~~~~~
There are various things one will look for in a church. Some look for fellowship, others look for a good children’s program, some look for a specific denominational background. You can’t look for a perfect church, because if you happen to find one, you would ruin it by joining. When Benny moved to Appleton, almost a year ago, I told him I trusted him to pick a church for us to attend after we married. This, I knew, was to take a risk, because although we basically agree theologically, he paid a lot less attention to it than I did. You can imagine how nervous I was when he called me, excited about this church he had found and thought would be a perfect fit for us, and told me it was an Orthodox Presbyterian Church.
Don’t get me wrong, here. I’m not saying that I don’t like being exposed to other denominations. I’ve experience the worship and teachings of various ones, including – at least three full length services, often more – Nazarene, Baptist, Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Bible Missionary, Congregational, Evangelical, Methodist, etc. I was raised Wesleyan-Arminian in a non-denominational church. When asked what denomination I am, I always give the same answer: I’m Wesleyan-Arminian Congregational (not Roman) Catholic Baptist Nazarene Methodist. Is this a cop-out? Nope. I simply understand that my theology and how I follow Christ can be traditionally seen in each of those denominations, if not seen in the present time.
Why this explanation? Mostly to illustrate how different the church I was raised in is from the one I now attend. I went from a Wesleyan church to a Calvinist church (glad I knew my TULIP well…). I’ve attended close to two months of services in this church, now, and have had some thoughts on what I truly value in a church.
First, and most importantly, I value a church in which the pastor is a genuine shepherd. This means that the pastor has studied his doctrine and church history well and desires to impregnate his congregation with those doctrines and traditions which he believes have been fundamental. In other words, he believes firmly in what he stands on and desires to hold his flock to the standards which he believes God has biblically founded. A pastor who additionally pulls no punches is an excellent pastor to have.
Second, I value a church in which great importance is placed on the family. This can be seen in many ways, but it is always clear when the family is important to the church. Partly it is seen within the literal families but mostly in the blood-washed family. A church where there is clear fellowship, love, and a desire to serve one another is a church where I cannot help but feel blessed.
Third, despite of (or in spite of?) any differences in doctrine which may be present, it is clear that the people there yearn to serve God with all their heart, soul, strength, and mind. I believe that anyone who truly serves God and longs to serve Him better every day will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, despite what doctrines he may hold. Although I deem your doctrine is incredibly important, I do not believe it saves you – but nor does it keep you from the throne of grace. I follow God to the best of my abilities, and I believe that my doctrines are scriptural. I know many who differ in doctrine but live with that aim as well, thus I cannot condemn them but rather wish them many blessings.
Attending this church has been a challenge, in several ways, but I have found it to be a place of peace as much as the church in which I grew up. God is preached there. I don’t feel persecuted or hindered by the differences in such a way that I am unable to worship. In fact, I find the differences strengthening my faith and encouraging me. I am fed, for each of us comes knowing we have fallen short of the glory of God and desperately need His strength for every step to come.
In Christ.
~~~~~
There are various things one will look for in a church. Some look for fellowship, others look for a good children’s program, some look for a specific denominational background. You can’t look for a perfect church, because if you happen to find one, you would ruin it by joining. When Benny moved to Appleton, almost a year ago, I told him I trusted him to pick a church for us to attend after we married. This, I knew, was to take a risk, because although we basically agree theologically, he paid a lot less attention to it than I did. You can imagine how nervous I was when he called me, excited about this church he had found and thought would be a perfect fit for us, and told me it was an Orthodox Presbyterian Church.
Don’t get me wrong, here. I’m not saying that I don’t like being exposed to other denominations. I’ve experience the worship and teachings of various ones, including – at least three full length services, often more – Nazarene, Baptist, Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Presbyterian, Bible Missionary, Congregational, Evangelical, Methodist, etc. I was raised Wesleyan-Arminian in a non-denominational church. When asked what denomination I am, I always give the same answer: I’m Wesleyan-Arminian Congregational (not Roman) Catholic Baptist Nazarene Methodist. Is this a cop-out? Nope. I simply understand that my theology and how I follow Christ can be traditionally seen in each of those denominations, if not seen in the present time.
Why this explanation? Mostly to illustrate how different the church I was raised in is from the one I now attend. I went from a Wesleyan church to a Calvinist church (glad I knew my TULIP well…). I’ve attended close to two months of services in this church, now, and have had some thoughts on what I truly value in a church.
First, and most importantly, I value a church in which the pastor is a genuine shepherd. This means that the pastor has studied his doctrine and church history well and desires to impregnate his congregation with those doctrines and traditions which he believes have been fundamental. In other words, he believes firmly in what he stands on and desires to hold his flock to the standards which he believes God has biblically founded. A pastor who additionally pulls no punches is an excellent pastor to have.
Second, I value a church in which great importance is placed on the family. This can be seen in many ways, but it is always clear when the family is important to the church. Partly it is seen within the literal families but mostly in the blood-washed family. A church where there is clear fellowship, love, and a desire to serve one another is a church where I cannot help but feel blessed.
Third, despite of (or in spite of?) any differences in doctrine which may be present, it is clear that the people there yearn to serve God with all their heart, soul, strength, and mind. I believe that anyone who truly serves God and longs to serve Him better every day will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, despite what doctrines he may hold. Although I deem your doctrine is incredibly important, I do not believe it saves you – but nor does it keep you from the throne of grace. I follow God to the best of my abilities, and I believe that my doctrines are scriptural. I know many who differ in doctrine but live with that aim as well, thus I cannot condemn them but rather wish them many blessings.
Attending this church has been a challenge, in several ways, but I have found it to be a place of peace as much as the church in which I grew up. God is preached there. I don’t feel persecuted or hindered by the differences in such a way that I am unable to worship. In fact, I find the differences strengthening my faith and encouraging me. I am fed, for each of us comes knowing we have fallen short of the glory of God and desperately need His strength for every step to come.
In Christ.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Autistic Love: Challenging the Definition
Introduction: Before I write a sentence about what I plan to address, I want to briefly say this: I am in no way an expert on Autism – or any other neural development disorder I may mention. I am basing my opinions upon hours of research, yes, and the copious amount of time I’ve spent with such children and adults, but I realize that these things don’t make me right. This essay is actually a watered down idea I’ve been considering and preparing to write for several years. I write about it not because I want to make others seem silly/stupid or because I want to seem smart… but I have a theory that I think is important to think about, and I believe it may be applicable to other situations.
This essay is all about challenging definitions. One definition, actually: the definition of love. Now, I’m not talking about the typical arguments about how romantic love is not the same as familial love is not the same as philia (love between friends) is not the same as eros (erotic love) is not the same as agape (a love only experienced through God). Am I crazy? Definitely, because I’m about to say something fanatical: love is not dimensional. What do I mean by that? Basically, that love cannot be measured, weighed, or limited by our minds. It is limitless and cannot be defined by any one factor except that it is what sets us apart from animals, thus it serves as the copyright of God on our souls. This is incredibly important to understand, because it means that you cannot assume you know every aspect from which it can be seen.
Now for the other bookend: autism. I have studied this and many similar disorders with great interest for six or seven years, reading about upcoming treatments, possible causes, and whatever else I can find. I have worked with them extensively, as well. One of the classifying definitions of autism is emotional detachment. Basically, it is believed that autistic children are unable to understand and communicate emotions. In other words, autistic children are said to be unable to love.
When I first started reading about this particular aspect of autism, I felt incredibly sad for the parents of such children. I thought it must be horrible – almost unbearable – to raise a child who was incapable of loving or understanding love. It was the aspect of this order which held the most interest for me, because I was curious about how parents dealt with that. The accounts I read were heartbreaking, and my sympathies grew. However, I also realized that I was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with the definition. There were several reasons for this.
1. In all my work with autistic children, their responses to individuals, though abnormal in comparison with other children, differed according to whom they had received the most loving treatment. They weren’t necessarily more kind, but they might sit next to them when playing, watch them more carefully than others, or show some other sign of watchful attention.
2. We are said to be created in the image of God. 1st John 4:7-8 states: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” If you believe the Bible to be infallible, if you believe that anyone can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, and if you believe that God is just, then it is impossible for you to believe that anyone is born unable to love.
3. Love is not limited by our definition. If God is love, and this is as inexplicable as the Holy Trinity or as eternity. They exist, we see evidences of them, and we even can almost explain them, but there are aspects of these things which cannot be illustrated in a way that our brains can comprehend.
Taking these three things into account, I had to challenge my own assumptions, because I realized that I had believed my entire life that love was shown through communication of emotions, desires, and service. When the wish for closeness and communication is absent, what is there left to love with? A great example of the limitations would be the five love languages: receiving gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service (for more details, go here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/). These definitions can be helpful in communicating love to people who understand, but those with the inability to understand are left with nothing. Many autistic children like regularity, being alone, being in the quiet, etc. It is not in their “nature” to accept love as we define it.
Here is my challenge to you: who is to say that love can only be communicated in ways we understand? I think every person in this world is equally capable of showing love, but we have limited them because of our rigid understanding of how that can be displayed. I show love by hugging people, but I have quickly learned that many autistic children don’t want to be touched. They were not limited by their autism but rather by my definitions of how they should act. When I realized this, I learned to recognize and communicate love in ways they understood. And every child is different! It’s a learning process, as much as with developing any relationship.
Autistic children can’t love? Ridiculous. It’s time to recognize the limits of our definitions and allow them to express love in ways they understand. We might not be able to identify these acts of love, because their language is awkward to us, just as ours is awkward to them. Not understanding does not equal absence.
This essay is all about challenging definitions. One definition, actually: the definition of love. Now, I’m not talking about the typical arguments about how romantic love is not the same as familial love is not the same as philia (love between friends) is not the same as eros (erotic love) is not the same as agape (a love only experienced through God). Am I crazy? Definitely, because I’m about to say something fanatical: love is not dimensional. What do I mean by that? Basically, that love cannot be measured, weighed, or limited by our minds. It is limitless and cannot be defined by any one factor except that it is what sets us apart from animals, thus it serves as the copyright of God on our souls. This is incredibly important to understand, because it means that you cannot assume you know every aspect from which it can be seen.
Now for the other bookend: autism. I have studied this and many similar disorders with great interest for six or seven years, reading about upcoming treatments, possible causes, and whatever else I can find. I have worked with them extensively, as well. One of the classifying definitions of autism is emotional detachment. Basically, it is believed that autistic children are unable to understand and communicate emotions. In other words, autistic children are said to be unable to love.
When I first started reading about this particular aspect of autism, I felt incredibly sad for the parents of such children. I thought it must be horrible – almost unbearable – to raise a child who was incapable of loving or understanding love. It was the aspect of this order which held the most interest for me, because I was curious about how parents dealt with that. The accounts I read were heartbreaking, and my sympathies grew. However, I also realized that I was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with the definition. There were several reasons for this.
1. In all my work with autistic children, their responses to individuals, though abnormal in comparison with other children, differed according to whom they had received the most loving treatment. They weren’t necessarily more kind, but they might sit next to them when playing, watch them more carefully than others, or show some other sign of watchful attention.
2. We are said to be created in the image of God. 1st John 4:7-8 states: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.” If you believe the Bible to be infallible, if you believe that anyone can enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, and if you believe that God is just, then it is impossible for you to believe that anyone is born unable to love.
3. Love is not limited by our definition. If God is love, and this is as inexplicable as the Holy Trinity or as eternity. They exist, we see evidences of them, and we even can almost explain them, but there are aspects of these things which cannot be illustrated in a way that our brains can comprehend.
Taking these three things into account, I had to challenge my own assumptions, because I realized that I had believed my entire life that love was shown through communication of emotions, desires, and service. When the wish for closeness and communication is absent, what is there left to love with? A great example of the limitations would be the five love languages: receiving gifts, quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service (for more details, go here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/). These definitions can be helpful in communicating love to people who understand, but those with the inability to understand are left with nothing. Many autistic children like regularity, being alone, being in the quiet, etc. It is not in their “nature” to accept love as we define it.
Here is my challenge to you: who is to say that love can only be communicated in ways we understand? I think every person in this world is equally capable of showing love, but we have limited them because of our rigid understanding of how that can be displayed. I show love by hugging people, but I have quickly learned that many autistic children don’t want to be touched. They were not limited by their autism but rather by my definitions of how they should act. When I realized this, I learned to recognize and communicate love in ways they understood. And every child is different! It’s a learning process, as much as with developing any relationship.
Autistic children can’t love? Ridiculous. It’s time to recognize the limits of our definitions and allow them to express love in ways they understand. We might not be able to identify these acts of love, because their language is awkward to us, just as ours is awkward to them. Not understanding does not equal absence.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Problems During "Coffee With Jesus"
I had a hard time deciding whether to write this or not, because I know there are a lot of people who really enjoy the comic strips “Coffee With Jesus.” Ever since they started to appear in my facebook newsfeed, I quickly found that they made me feel incredibly uncomfortable – and not in the good “thank you, God, for showing me the error of my ways and giving me the chance to improve” way. Instead, they seemed like closet hypocrisy.
I can already hear the protests. “Woah, Sarah. Aren’t you taking this a bit too seriously?” I don’t think so. You might argue that these are just joking around and that if I can’t take a joke, I should butt out. Well… that’s not the problem. All people know that there are some things you don’t joke about. Some jokes are bad in certain situations or with certain people (like wearing fur to a PETA meeting), and some jokes are never funny (such as jokes about spousal unfaithfulness and other various jokes with sexual connotations). I can get a joke. In fact, I probably have a greater range of humour than most people, but I know that some things shouldn’t be put into a circumstance that makes them lighter than they actually are. I try not to joke about serious spiritual matters, and I never want to make light of God.
Problem 1: “Coffee with Jesus” as a “comic” makes light of things which should not be made light.
Another person might say: “Well, sometimes you have to get a person’s attention.” I understand that sometimes you need a left hook, but this particular strip uses the left hook of offense. They are written to be offensive. If you don’t believe me, look up the earliest strips. They even deleted some of the oldest because they were too offensive. They may be more subtle these days, but they haven’t changed all that much. I realize that sometimes we offend people with our beliefs, but I deem that to offend anyone on purpose is a sin. Check out Matthew 17:24-7. This is the conversation between Jesus and Peter when Jesus says to pay taxes “lest we offend.” And in Romans fourteen, Paul talks about not doing anything which will cause your brother to sin or offend him. To offend a person is to cause strife, pain, and resentment. None of these things bring a person closer to you. If people are always feeling attacked by you, you have lost your witness.
Problem 2: “Coffee with Jesus” as a tool to teach by means of offense actually undermines your ability to witness.
The big argument: “It’s good to learn this way, because it brings Jesus down to our level so we can understand Him better.” I am all for learning more about Jesus. That is incredibly important in the life of any Christian; however, since when has anyone benefitted from trying to be equal to God? You might not look at it that way, but think about the way that these comics take Christ out of context. I’m sure that if He were on earth, he might very well drink coffee with us, discuss whatever we wanted, but do you think He would discuss things in such cavalier ways? When He was on earth the first time, He took witnessing quite seriously, and I don’t recall Him ever joking with someone: “Well, you just doubled your time in purgatory.” These strips portray Jesus stripped of the reverence and grace which He portrayed over two thousand years ago. Sure, He was sometimes angry and offensive, but He was a Man of grace and the comics do not portray Him in that light.
Problem 3: “Coffee with Jesus” puts Jesus level in status with me and portrays Him as a man without grace.
Those are my basic problems with the new “I’m a cool Christian” craze. Things pop up all the time that bother me, but this one actually gave me pause and made me concerned about the type of God we are portraying. I don’t think it’s wise to flaunt Jesus in any context, even if the intentions are well founded. I think these could be dangerous and undermining.
That’s all.
I can already hear the protests. “Woah, Sarah. Aren’t you taking this a bit too seriously?” I don’t think so. You might argue that these are just joking around and that if I can’t take a joke, I should butt out. Well… that’s not the problem. All people know that there are some things you don’t joke about. Some jokes are bad in certain situations or with certain people (like wearing fur to a PETA meeting), and some jokes are never funny (such as jokes about spousal unfaithfulness and other various jokes with sexual connotations). I can get a joke. In fact, I probably have a greater range of humour than most people, but I know that some things shouldn’t be put into a circumstance that makes them lighter than they actually are. I try not to joke about serious spiritual matters, and I never want to make light of God.
Problem 1: “Coffee with Jesus” as a “comic” makes light of things which should not be made light.
Another person might say: “Well, sometimes you have to get a person’s attention.” I understand that sometimes you need a left hook, but this particular strip uses the left hook of offense. They are written to be offensive. If you don’t believe me, look up the earliest strips. They even deleted some of the oldest because they were too offensive. They may be more subtle these days, but they haven’t changed all that much. I realize that sometimes we offend people with our beliefs, but I deem that to offend anyone on purpose is a sin. Check out Matthew 17:24-7. This is the conversation between Jesus and Peter when Jesus says to pay taxes “lest we offend.” And in Romans fourteen, Paul talks about not doing anything which will cause your brother to sin or offend him. To offend a person is to cause strife, pain, and resentment. None of these things bring a person closer to you. If people are always feeling attacked by you, you have lost your witness.
Problem 2: “Coffee with Jesus” as a tool to teach by means of offense actually undermines your ability to witness.
The big argument: “It’s good to learn this way, because it brings Jesus down to our level so we can understand Him better.” I am all for learning more about Jesus. That is incredibly important in the life of any Christian; however, since when has anyone benefitted from trying to be equal to God? You might not look at it that way, but think about the way that these comics take Christ out of context. I’m sure that if He were on earth, he might very well drink coffee with us, discuss whatever we wanted, but do you think He would discuss things in such cavalier ways? When He was on earth the first time, He took witnessing quite seriously, and I don’t recall Him ever joking with someone: “Well, you just doubled your time in purgatory.” These strips portray Jesus stripped of the reverence and grace which He portrayed over two thousand years ago. Sure, He was sometimes angry and offensive, but He was a Man of grace and the comics do not portray Him in that light.
Problem 3: “Coffee with Jesus” puts Jesus level in status with me and portrays Him as a man without grace.
Those are my basic problems with the new “I’m a cool Christian” craze. Things pop up all the time that bother me, but this one actually gave me pause and made me concerned about the type of God we are portraying. I don’t think it’s wise to flaunt Jesus in any context, even if the intentions are well founded. I think these could be dangerous and undermining.
That’s all.
Friday, April 13, 2012
The Monster I’ve Become – Living with FMS
It’s almost two in the morning. I’m exhausted, and yet my brain won’t turn off nor will my body relax enough to go to sleep. I’m in relentless, arthritic pain in all the major joints of my body. My hands and muscles ache, and my skin feels like the lightest touch of fabric would make me weep from the scraping. I’m freezing, but my body is feverish. Every several minutes, my back twinges with such severity I have to reposition in order to stop the spasms. I know that if I stay mostly still, I’ll be able to deal with the pain. If I have to move, I move as slowly and deliberately as possible. If I move too quickly, I’ll fall over because of dizziness and visual disorientation. I might even temporarily pass out. When I go to sleep, I’m likely to have nightmares. I will wake up at least once in the night because I’m having a hot flash, though in all likelihood I will wake up three or more times. When I wake up in the morning, I’ll feel as though I didn’t sleep at all. I’ll lie in bed for many minutes, slowly stretching my joints, preparing to get out of bed. When I finally stand, my entire body will be stiff, and anyone who’s close will hear my bones cracking. I’ll pick out my clothes depending on how sensitive my skin is to fabric that day. Then I’ll put on a smile and leave my room, ready to greet my friends and family as though I am perfectly healthy. If I’m having a good day, the pain will be a mere nuisance. If I’m having an okay day – which is most of the time – I’ll have some pretty serious pain going on, but not enough to inhibit me too seriously. If I’m having a bad day, it will take all of my willpower to keep from going back to bed.
If it’s cold, the joint pain will increase until I can’t hold a pen, type, or do anything which requires flexibility in my hands. Bending at the knees or waist is akin to pulling teeth, and I’ll avoid it as much as possible. I’ll sit in the highest seat off the ground that I can find so that I can get up and down with more ease. I may put a soft towel in the dryer so that I can wrap it around my hands for temporary relief. I’ll want to sit and keep warm as much as possible, because when my joints are warm I am in the least pain.
If it’s hot, I’ll wish I could wear a satin nightgown or nothing at all. My skin will be on edge, as though something is crawling under every pore of my body. It is the most excruciating feeling I suffer as a result of my condition – not because it is most painful but because there is nothing I can do to relieve it. Even my teeth will hurt, and I’ll be so nauseous I’m afraid to move. It is on these days I am most likely to get a migraine – a force of pain that is increased by noise, light, movement, and smell. All I want to do is crawl under a sheet in a dark room, keeping cool and protected from abrasions.
Warm, cloudy days are when I’m most comfortable. The sun doesn’t hurt my head, the heat doesn’t bother my skin, and the cold doesn’t make my joints ache. During these days, I often only have to deal with the muscle tenderness of every day.
As I live my life, simple things become exhausting. Showering, doing chores, cleaning my room. Being stationary, in any position, for any length of time, is real work. I’m restless as a result.
Sometimes I may want to read or write. On a good day, this won’t be a problem, but I often find that it’s hard for me to concentrate for any length of time. Even when I enjoy reading a good book or working on another project, I have to take frequent breaks in order to refocus. This means that even the simplest tasks take me much longer than they would most people. Driving is incredibly stressful, because I am trying extra hard to be alert and cautious. If someone asks me a question, I may take several seconds to respond. Your question has to penetrate the almost constant fog in my brain, register, and then I have to make sense of it before I can consider my answer and respond. I may even realize I still didn’t hear you and need to ask you to repeat yourself once, twice, or even three times. This is probably much more frustrating to me than to you, because it means I’m almost constantly catching up, and I’m embarrassed by this handicap. It is next to impossible for me to concentrate on more than one person talking at a time. I find it is much easier to stay quiet in large groups than attempt to participate. This condition is called “fibro fog,” and it effects more than conversations and concentration. I daydream more than most, and even while concentrating on conversations, my mind will drift, and I’m far too easily distracted. It takes exhausting effort to focus.
The chronic pain is, well, a pain. It is more inhibiting than I like to admit, and I do my best to hide my discomfort. If I’m showing any pain at all, it’s severe enough that I am struggling to deal with it. I hate it when I have to let people shoulder things I feel I should be able to do. I want to be angry when people carry something for me or take over a task I’m doing, but I’m thankful I don’t have to worry about messing up by trying to do it alone. I want to cry when I realize I can’t twist the handle of a can opener, open a bag of chips, or take the lid off a peanut butter jar, because the muscles it takes to do these things are so tight that the simple movement makes my muscles seize up, and I drop whatever is in my hands. When I sit at the piano or organ, trying to play for church or for pleasure, I wish that I didn’t fudge so much because of the inflexibility of my fingers. It hurts to know that the pain is so inhibiting, and I hate it for the burden it puts on others.
I live with a constant prayer on my lips – that I won’t ever feel like I need to give up. No matter how severe the pain, I try to focus on my blessings. I try to think about the people who give me their full support and try to help me as best they can.
Fibromyalgia is a terrible thing, but I’m not Sarah, the girl with Fibromyalgia. I’m just Sarah, and I am not defined by the pain I suffer. I welcome your comfort, your love, your compassion. I need it, even. I will do my best to live as full a life as I can. I’m just Sarah – plain and tall – and your warm embrace is all the understanding I need.
If it’s cold, the joint pain will increase until I can’t hold a pen, type, or do anything which requires flexibility in my hands. Bending at the knees or waist is akin to pulling teeth, and I’ll avoid it as much as possible. I’ll sit in the highest seat off the ground that I can find so that I can get up and down with more ease. I may put a soft towel in the dryer so that I can wrap it around my hands for temporary relief. I’ll want to sit and keep warm as much as possible, because when my joints are warm I am in the least pain.
If it’s hot, I’ll wish I could wear a satin nightgown or nothing at all. My skin will be on edge, as though something is crawling under every pore of my body. It is the most excruciating feeling I suffer as a result of my condition – not because it is most painful but because there is nothing I can do to relieve it. Even my teeth will hurt, and I’ll be so nauseous I’m afraid to move. It is on these days I am most likely to get a migraine – a force of pain that is increased by noise, light, movement, and smell. All I want to do is crawl under a sheet in a dark room, keeping cool and protected from abrasions.
Warm, cloudy days are when I’m most comfortable. The sun doesn’t hurt my head, the heat doesn’t bother my skin, and the cold doesn’t make my joints ache. During these days, I often only have to deal with the muscle tenderness of every day.
As I live my life, simple things become exhausting. Showering, doing chores, cleaning my room. Being stationary, in any position, for any length of time, is real work. I’m restless as a result.
Sometimes I may want to read or write. On a good day, this won’t be a problem, but I often find that it’s hard for me to concentrate for any length of time. Even when I enjoy reading a good book or working on another project, I have to take frequent breaks in order to refocus. This means that even the simplest tasks take me much longer than they would most people. Driving is incredibly stressful, because I am trying extra hard to be alert and cautious. If someone asks me a question, I may take several seconds to respond. Your question has to penetrate the almost constant fog in my brain, register, and then I have to make sense of it before I can consider my answer and respond. I may even realize I still didn’t hear you and need to ask you to repeat yourself once, twice, or even three times. This is probably much more frustrating to me than to you, because it means I’m almost constantly catching up, and I’m embarrassed by this handicap. It is next to impossible for me to concentrate on more than one person talking at a time. I find it is much easier to stay quiet in large groups than attempt to participate. This condition is called “fibro fog,” and it effects more than conversations and concentration. I daydream more than most, and even while concentrating on conversations, my mind will drift, and I’m far too easily distracted. It takes exhausting effort to focus.
The chronic pain is, well, a pain. It is more inhibiting than I like to admit, and I do my best to hide my discomfort. If I’m showing any pain at all, it’s severe enough that I am struggling to deal with it. I hate it when I have to let people shoulder things I feel I should be able to do. I want to be angry when people carry something for me or take over a task I’m doing, but I’m thankful I don’t have to worry about messing up by trying to do it alone. I want to cry when I realize I can’t twist the handle of a can opener, open a bag of chips, or take the lid off a peanut butter jar, because the muscles it takes to do these things are so tight that the simple movement makes my muscles seize up, and I drop whatever is in my hands. When I sit at the piano or organ, trying to play for church or for pleasure, I wish that I didn’t fudge so much because of the inflexibility of my fingers. It hurts to know that the pain is so inhibiting, and I hate it for the burden it puts on others.
I live with a constant prayer on my lips – that I won’t ever feel like I need to give up. No matter how severe the pain, I try to focus on my blessings. I try to think about the people who give me their full support and try to help me as best they can.
Fibromyalgia is a terrible thing, but I’m not Sarah, the girl with Fibromyalgia. I’m just Sarah, and I am not defined by the pain I suffer. I welcome your comfort, your love, your compassion. I need it, even. I will do my best to live as full a life as I can. I’m just Sarah – plain and tall – and your warm embrace is all the understanding I need.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)