I’ve heard that there is a place for comments on here and yet I cannot find them or read them if they are there.


Here is my truest desire with this blog: To receive no comments.


Connecting with others is a great joy for me. Yet when connecting with others in a public forum, flames of anxiety engulf me, and my health pays the price. Focusing on this energy while remaining curious as to the driving force behind it is a practice I’ve taken on. Posting and even commenting on Facebook most always fans the flames of anxiety. This is one of the reasons I’m so thankful for this blog. I can bare my heart, share my view of life, and it will not be part of any “news feed.”


I know it’s an extra step to go look for this blog, and I am thankful for anyone who makes that choice.


And I’m working on peeling back layers to discover that which feeds the anxiety meltdowns.




More about comments at another time. My brain is getting slippery and it can feel impossible to complete a thought. It will be lovely if that is a function of lack of nourishment. I also realize I may be heading into some form of dementia. The slippery brain could also be a function of my deep MS fatigue and all the medications I’m on. I suspect it does not matter if I do my best to be present in as many moments as possible. Building a doomsday narrative serves no function but to yank me out of the ever changing here-and-now, which is the only place I want to be. If I’m less tired, I enjoy accepting the humorous reality of a lost thought. Many times a person is answering a question I just asked and I have to stop them and ask, “I can tell you are answering a question, but would you remind me of the question I just asked?”




In last night’s post, I discovered the word syay instead of stay. I thought I’d caught all the misspelled words and started to hunt for instructions on editing posts. Quickly I realized my brain would not be able to follow through any tutorials. That was a spike of anxiety which prompted the part about comments. It is such a weird practice to have compassion on this experience when I’ve lived so long with self-chastising. Yet to reference episode #218 of the podcast, 10% Happier with Dan Harris, “Our egos cannot comprehend our own death, or loss of self, and will fight with any means possible.” That approximates his guest’s quote.


I just unlocked a key to myself: anxiety is my ego’s tool to keep me alive.


Turns out, it will kill me without my eyes and heart open to the frightened 4-year-old energy inside. I choose to embrace it with compassion and forgiveness. Being a flawed human is to be celebrated.


My brain is gone, so rereading for coherency (as with all my other posts) is not going to happen.


This is me, allowing life to be publicly messy and accepting of that fact because its my truth.


Thank you to all who trudge through this raw space with me. May we all know joy.






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