Category Archives for Mindfulness

Pain Tears

Waking up and feeling pain so intense it makes me cry is becoming a regular occurrence, at least it seems to be. This morning, when I got up to take my early morning dose of medications I was met with such terrible pelvic and hip pain it caused my eyes to water. I didn’t cry for as long as I did one morning about a week ago, but getting to this point with pain is more common now. I’m not certain if it’s the arrival of colder temperatures or because my sleep is so erratic, but whichever it is, it’s taking an emotional toll.

I almost long for the days when after running long distances my body would ache in places I didn’t know could hurt. Because that pain was different. That pain reminded me that I was active. It made me think about whether I needed to improve or change something in my stride as I ran. It made me question if I needed a new pair of running shoes or if I needed to stretch more before or after a long run. That pain, the pain that erupted in my body after running 10, 15, or even 25 kilometers (6 to 15 miles), reminded me that my body was strong and I was using it and pushing its limits.

This pain makes me feel defeated even before I’ve risen from my bed. This pain that makes me cry tells me I may never run the distances I did in the past nor feel the freedom of unencumbered movement from a healthy active body. Maybe that’s the reason I cry. Maybe without being conscious of the loss, my body – actually, my muscle memory – is mourning deeply and the only way to express it is through tears. Tears that are sometimes brief and at others pour out an hour’s worth.

At times, like this morning, when the pain is so bad that all I can do is cry, I long for the days when my body ached from the known punishment of running for hours…

Pain Tears - December 2017
Pain Tears – December 2017
Pain Tears - Colour - December 2017
Pain Tears – Colour – December 2017

 

After InkTober 2017 Is Over

Now that I’m finished with InkTober 2017, I need to figure out what I’m going to do to occupy my time. Last year, I worked on teaching myself to draw better, which I believe paid off in this year’s challenge. What feels like the right direction for me this year, is revisiting the colourful geometric art I enjoyed creating in the past. What I created then ranged from simple shapes with basic colour to intricately combined lines with bright bold colour palettes.

In recent years, as I’ve searched for my artistic style, the geometric pieces I created keep surfacing in my thoughts. Because these thoughts are so persistent, I intend to use this style as a base. To this base, I will add the different artistic methods I’ve taught myself over the last four years as I’ve sought creative ways to cope with my illness. I’ll also make use of any new skills I pick up as I go along.

I’m looking forward to the new things I’ll create with old-established methods.

If you participated in InkTober 2017, what are you going to do now that it’s over?

 

InkTober 2017: Day 31 – Mask

I’m done. I finished the InkTober 2017 challenge. I’m a few days late but I needed to take time out for self-care at a couple of points, and I’m glad I did because it tells me I’m prioritizing my health. The last prompt for the challenge is ‘mask’, which is an easy word for me to relate to.

Psychologically and emotionally, everyone wears a mask. Some of us wear more masks than others do. Each mask helps us to fit into a specific situation. Who are we when we are with our family, our friends, or in our workplaces? Then who are we when we are alone when the mask(s) can come off?

I wear multiple masks. More than ever, I wear them to obscure the effects of my illness. I’ve become quite good at hiding what my body is doing to me psychologically and emotionally. I don’t believe anyone, even those who know me well, have a clear picture of who I’ve become over the course of the past four years. Because of this, I’m convinced these masks have to stay on, otherwise my family and friends might be the ones who can’t cope with what I’m living with each day.

Although, I must say, wearing the many masks I do when I feel pain all the time is tiring. Always being hopeful is tiring. Always trying to be cheerful is tiring. Always trying to make others worry about me less is tiring. Most of all, always acting as if I’m okay so others don’t treat me different is tiring. Yet, I will continue to wear my masks because the alternative, showing the rawness of what I’m living with, isn’t an option.