The Return To Innocence

Holy random acts of kindness, Batman.
After getting my flu vaccine, I went to look at the cane rack, because they have this beautiful blue and silver one that looks like dragon scales, and I have been waiting for discounts and coupons so I could get it. The price is under twenty dollars, but still.
A middle-aged man who looked so much like Idris Elba that I did a second take, also reached for the blue silver cane. Our eyes met, I smiled briefly. He said, "You know, I bet this would make an awesome magic staff for cosplay."
I grinned and said, "Good plan! I should at least join a game just so I can brag. Or just be my paganish elf self and cosplay every day." Which was blurted out because my filter is so thin.
The Idris Elba lookalike chuckled. "I adore that idea. I just pray to all mighty Atheismo that we aren't going too deep. Like that Tom Hanks movie."
My jaw dropped. "Duuude," I said. "Futurama reference plus obscure D&D rip-off movie nee book reference? Cripple high five!"
We high fived and missed on purpose, stumbling. "Mild cerebral palsy, spastic hemiplegia" I said. "Mild cerebral palsy, diplegia mixed," he said. "And knee arthritis."
"And sciatica," we said in union, surprising ourselves.
"Fibromyalgia and epilepsy and autism too," I added.
He said, "My twin nieces are autistics! Their world is so awesome. I think they prefer me to my brother when they're in meltdowns, they talk about what's going on in detail."
"Awesome!" I said.
At this point, we had been staring at the canes and I had been avoiding too much eye contact. I was about to ask the Idris Elba lookalike about advocacy. Then I saw a gleam in his eye and sensed a topic shift. "Hey, listen," he said. "I'm a proponent of the pay it forward thing. I know we're strangers, but I do know enough about you that you really want the dragon scale cane."
I tilted my head. "Yeeeaah?"
"So, okay." He pulled some pieces of paper from his pocket. "I've got a buy one get one half off for this brand of canes. I will buy you your cane. What do you think?"
I blinked a few times. I looked at him. He wasn't hitting on me. He wasn't being creepy. He was just a fellow cripple offering help.
"Okay," I said, "thank you! That's really kind."
"Hey, the community needs all the assistance we can get from each other. Cripples helping cripples, you know?"
I smiled. "Totally."
As we walked to a register, he said, "I want you to know that I had no intention of hitting on you. I see your rings, and for all I know they could mean something else. But while I think you're a gorgeous-looking person, I have no plans on being a That Guy. I punch Those Guys on a regular basis."
"Huh?"
"Physical trainer. Not so much punch as pinch in sensitive areas. Men can be scum."
I giggled. "Hashtag Not All Men!"
He laughed. "Anyway, let me pay for everything." He nodded at my basket, which had a few comfort items. I immediately said he shouldn't, since he was getting me the cane.
He then put my basket on the conveyor belt, looked at me until I noticed that his eyes had gold rings, and said, "Then pay it forward. Help another cripple." The corner of his mouth turned up. "Even if it's just donating to help someone get better access."
I nodded. I was going to cry any minute. He paid for everything, put his things in two totes and put my things in two more totes. He saved me almost forty dollars.
He said, "I would offer you a ride, but my friend's picking me up so we can go back to Philly. It's been a great road trip so far."
I nodded. "It's cool. I'm going to take the bus home anyway." I was feeling giddy. "Well, obviously we had this encounter for a reason. So. It was lovely meeting you, clone of Idris Elba."
He threw back his head and laughed. "I get that a lot. Same to you, clone of Mia Sara. Anyway, I'm Laurence."
"Joanna."
We fist-bumped and he helped adjust my cane for my height. We walked outside together, and he stood at the curb to wait for his friend while I walked across the parking lot. I turned and waved. He waved back and kept looking at me. I realized it was to make sure I was safe.
I got to the sidewalk crosswalk and peered back. I saw him get into a green SUV. I realized I would probably never see him again.
I am definitely going to Pay It Forward.

***

Also! Links! For future reference!
http://www.neurodiversity.com/main.html
http://cerebralpalsy.org/about-cerebral-palsy/associative-conditions/
http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2013/10/03/autism-common-cerebral-palsy/18775/

***

Also!
PMS is vicious. Although with oral contraceptives, it's technically withdrawal bleeding rather than menstruation. Besides, I haven't truly bled in over a year. Being on the highest dose of birth control for over fourteen years will do that to some women.
PMS is vicious. A veliciraptor chewing through my pelvis. There's a photo out there of a plastic female human skeleton, with a toy raptor stuck head-first through the pelvic bone.
And the bloating and bizarre fluctuations on the bathroom scale.
Having slid back to psychiatric anorexia after failing to control neurochemical anorexia, I know damn well I should not stand on that scale especially during this time. I know damn well that numbers don't mean as much as how my clothing fits. But paranoia bred from life-long anxiety over disordered eating patterns is paranoia. And then there was the entire food=growth=death connection when I was little. And then there was being under a hundred pounds until my mid-twenties. And then there was the anorexia voices insisting that I needed to get back to that, being under five feet tall. I was never overweight. I used to weigh something around the high "set point" - but I have no idea where I've constructed this memory of being convinced to lose twenty pounds. Unfortunately, my illness has burrowed deep enough into my subconscious that my thoughts have turned to the classic hallmarks of anorexia: "I absolutely must be below X number or I will never feel right". The unwillingness to stop. The belief that everything is wrong. I know where I am. I know what's happening. I've been able to compartmentalize and separate enough so that I smack myself when those thoughts occur, so that I at least eat an apple or two, or cheese, yogurt, celery, even cheesecake or dark chocolate. My friends are with me.
Sag Harbor will happen next week, with Thanksgiving. Part of me is in a total blind mute panic. That part doesn't want to eat anything. That part wants to Be Good, Be Perfect. It doesn't matter that I'm over thirty, says the panic. It only matters that I am extremely small and I must keep being extremely small.
To bring everything around again: PMS is not helping. PMS is several numbers upward on the scale because of fluid retention, bloating... losing that fight to not overeat. PMS is barely fitting into the purple dyed jeans yesterday and having them slightly loose today. It isn't helping anything.

But I look at that blue and silver dragon scale cane, bought for me by a total stranger with the same disability as me, and I think the best way I can Pay It Forward is to make sure someone I care for stays as mentally healthy as possible...

Yup, it still kills me every time.
*hits replay*



http://meowaum.com/1378-very-cute-kitten-grooming-by-herself/

This is almost kind of ridiculous.
I still have a migraine... and I am fully full of bouncing energy, and vicious pain, and emotional thrill, and I have a smile on my face just because for no reason, and I am in terrible terrible pain, and I am still mildly postictal, and I am on the edge of a major depression episode, and I am making happy thrilled noises, and I cannot explain any of it. I could connect it to being smacked in the head twice yesterday, but I doubt it.
But I'm just going with it. Because why not.
I totally need, like, a plushie brain, with the amygdala specifically colored in a happy color.

I stretched the hell out of my back and legs and arms. It was lovely. I did it my way. I am very pleased and very satisfied. I won't discuss the various burning barbed wire pains that are distracting me even through the codeine, but I will talk about the beautiful meditative exercises I've been working with. Peaceful, serene, tranquil, calm, relaxing, refreshing, fantastic in multiple ways. The scene always changes, but always appears Zen in some way.
I had mentioned that my human coping mechanisms, my spirit guardians, had begun communicating with each other deep in my brain without my conscious knowledge, which leads me to believe that parts of my brain are starting to come together as part of the story, as my unlimited imagination and writerbrain is starting working on a whole new, amazingly unique, private story all on its own. No wonder I have been working on Amber's story beyond these bits of my brain. Amber has also given me free reign to write her as a fully developed character and not just a created coping mechanism.
In general, I am just... very happy.
And the funny thing is that I am in a depressive episode. I have all the symptoms, and I am quite conscious and aware. But I have things that are helping distract me: Talking about my imagination and my creativity, talking about the triggers for my panic attacks and my simple seizures, talking about comedy TV shows and powerful fiction books. Somehow it all is able to keep the major depression away, although it is a very intense fight. Sometimes I find myself weak and struggling, even physically, as thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness, frustration and terror, pessimism and guilt all slam into me and my wall and my shell.
I suppose I could say I am happy. I feel happy.
But... what is happiness?
"Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy." Sure, I feel those things. However, there is a strong undercurrent of the exact opposite.
Brains, man. Brains are wild. Brains are weird. Brains are so complex. One day, I want to have an MRI and see exactly what my brain is doing. I want to sit with multiple brain specialists for hours on end, and just... talk. I want to talk about my brain.
Brains, man.

Quote of the day so far:
"Oh, that's okay. Sometimes my very existence amuses, confuses, or utterly angers people for various reasons. Myself included. I am so fucked up and insane and crazyweird that I unintentionally upset someone or entertain someone every time I do anything. Why am I here? Who am I, really? Hell if I know. I forgot why a long time ago. But it is a good life, full of fascinating people, and I'm happy to stay for as long as it will have me."

Sometimes I just want to be Honey Badger eating pistachios. But I have too many emotions and too many reactions. Damn my screaming amygdala.

My mother says it is impossible for me to not be overly emotional to everything. Even, like, air.

I think that's why I like online socialization so much. I can have my emotions and my reactions and my masks and shells, and everyone I socialize with can have theirs. I struggle with physical interactions so much and I wind up draining my reserves. You know what I mean!
But!! My shells are cracking all on their own because I'm getting more confident. I've been collecting broken beautiful shells left and right. How about you??
We are so beautifully screwed up but we are together and I adore all of you.
Also, cracking shells have started becoming a new symbol for me. I'm covered in layers of shells of different colors and intensities. Gently breaking each one feels reliving.

***

I have no idea why, but right now I am so happy, joyful, blissful, content, and serene that bluebirds should be frolicking around my head. I just feel totally zen.

I am happy about my writing, my book reading, cleaning my house, brushing each cat for ten minutes, taking long walks, meeting random people and having small talk, being on the internet, not being on the internet, being by myself, cleaning my house again, being disabled forever, knowing all my limits and raising those limits and pushing forward when I can and pulling back when I can't, having several canes to walk with, taking medications that work, sharing my stories with people, loving myself because of all these wild flaws and faults.

Even being personally insulted on geek forums because I'm not wild about the fandoms. That makes me happy. Because it makes me laugh. People are adorable!

Just... happiness. Pure. Simple. I can't even explain or understand it. It permeates me. Like a Lotus Sutra. Like a Buddhist chant. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
I don't think I could feel anything but happy right now. Even when it fades later, and it will, I shall remember.

Somewhere, Honey Badger is smiling.

So, a couple of months ago, I was chatting with naamah_darling about her fabulous custom made My Little Pony dolls, which she paints herself with her own designs and even new hair. She sells them on Ebay for reasonably understandably high prices, because they are really extraordinary and unique.
I casually mentioned that one day, when I could afford it, I'd love a custom pony for myself. The matter was dropped.
And then a week or so ago, on Facebook, Naamah mentioned on Facebook that she was sending me a package. Since I've been sending her care packages full of skin care and supplements, I figured it was something similar, like a thank you. I didn't realize how anxious and excited she seemed about my receiving the package.

A couple of days ago, the box arrived. I opened it up and found the card first, with a glittery dragonfly on the cover. I opened it and on the left it read:

"Funny you should talk about a custom..."
And my heart kind of skipped.
And on the right it read:
"It took me a while to figure out her name, but it turned out to be so simple once she told me.
Serenity.
I made her thinking of you start to finish. She's all yours. She'll be a friend who can always be there for you and remind you that you are never alone.
Hope you love her. <3"

And even before I pulled away the paper wrappings, I was crying. And when I had the pony in my hands, and I saw her flank symbol, I cried even harder, murmuring "Oh my gods, oh my gods, she did this for me, she made this for me, oh my gods, this is amazing, this is so beautiful, oh oh oh..."

Because I had seen a photo, on Naamah's Livejournal, months ago, of this pony being painted, and I had instantly been pulled toward it, wishing it could be mine...
And here she is.
Meet Serenity.
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151406320840684.1073741827.640545683&type=1

Every morning, I look directly at her when I wake up, and she makes me smile. It is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Honestly, I don't think I can express it in words. Just... incredible. Love you, Naamah.

Adam and Luna.
She really is such a precious and royal cat to us.
And she adores him so so much.

Holy Gaia's Eyes, you guys, I finally figured out how to move the novel along more quickly. I finally wrote that one sentence - just one sentence - that broke through that blank wall of "Well, fuck, now what happens?" that many writers struggle with.
And now I'm several paragraphs past that. This is the first time I've managed to do that since summer. This is such an insanely massive personal breakthrough that I want to celebrate. But we already have cake and ice cream, so I'll just mark the day and I'll just keep on writing until fatigue begs me to stop.

And to think, all it took was for me to make the antagonist notice the main female protagonist's purple tourmaline engagement ring, which should have helped psychically protect her but didn't, because they're all powerful psychics there and can do what they want. Now to make her fiance suffer that broken neck a little more.

Seriously, though, I want to hug myself and cry a little.

Funny thing? I am in a violent amount of pain today, so severe that I really cannot to much other than type and type and pour my frustration and mood out into documents. Well, then.

To writing! *whiskey shot*

Well, what do you know. The pain specialist nurse informed me that my stabby electric knee pain is totally a symptom of fibromyalgia. And it took me saying "Wait, really? Seriously? Are you sure?" before she started laughing. Also, my stabby electric wrist pains are a symptom of ulnar entrapment, and the doctors are going to give me a nerve test and then suggest specific exercises and braces for my elbow. Also, the nurse wants me to go to a physical therapy place that focuses on fibromyalgia. That thrills me. It's like, "YES! People really get it!"

So now I can add the thing that has annoyed me forever: When someone honks and cat-calls at me while they are barreling down the road especially in the opposite direction, what the fuck are they trying to do? I'm not going to respond. They'
re not going to slow down or stop (please gods no). What. Is. The. Fucking. Point? WHY?
It's funny. I HAVE been asked out by men and women in vehicles parked or slowed while I was walking, and they were always pleasant when I said I was married. Literally, "Hey! Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? or Are you married? Yes? Aw, I got here too late. Well, you have a good day!" And they would smile kindly and move on. I mean, yes, it is still weird, but it's not harassment. If I'd said I was unattached, they would have asked me out, and we might have chatted for a bit. But they were at least polite. People who yell out wildly are so fucking creepy it gives me chills.
http://brutereason.net/2012/10/14/on-men-who-think-street-harassment-would-be-awesome/

The thing that really really made my day like forever: A pain specialist nurse saying that fibromyalgia really can produce crazy evil symptoms just by being fibromyalgia, and that nurse recommending a very specific fibromyalgia physical therapist. I mean, truly, that made me so fucking happy I could cry. If only every fibromyalgia patient could have it like this.
Spears raised.

Sally Hansen Nailgrowth Miracle Nail Polish in Forbidden Fudge.
You guys, my nails look like gold infused dark chocolate. I don't know if this will increase or decrease my chocolate cravings. Probably just make me smile while eating chocolate.
http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fX--nOoiv6w/TRDk1MZtDnI/AAAAAAAABqc/4q5SfcGPK8o/s1600/Picture+023.jpg
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fX--nOoiv6w/TRDk2sGx_fI/AAAAAAAABqk/gc0SxessJ7s/s1600/Picture+026.jpg
Also, the Nailgrowth Miracle Polish in Divine Wine is still my favorite, but Forbidden Fudge is close. Divine Wine is bloody wine red with gold shimmer like my lipsticks, Forbidden Fudge is dark chocolate brown with gold shimmer like my hair color. Awesome.

So, I've discovered that I prefer wood bristle hairbrushes and boar bristle mixed with plastic or wood bristles, and metal bristle brushes. They all work so much better than regular plastic brushes. Ionic, cermaic, and tourmaline infusions are also awesome. The brand Goody has a couple of gorgeous plastic boar mix bristle ionic and ceramic brushes that are fairly cheap. When I can, I go to Ulta or Whole Foods and go for Olivia Garden brushes and Bass Brushes. And a dear friend mailed me some small Widu wood brushes that are stupidly expensive but seriously amazing.

Dear "Endlessly" by Kiersten White: I know I've been promising to read you since the end of July when you were released, but I got so distracted by other books; I am so sorry. People kept shoving books at me, and I kept finding new shiny books, and and... I know those are bad excuses, but I promise that this time I will read you, because I love you, and I have loved you since "Paranormalcy" and because I have so many other books to read but I swore I would finish you first.
Dear Self and Friends: No more book recommendations, no more new to me books, no more shiny books to adore until I am finished with the one book I promised to finish three months ago.
I'm glad that's out in the open now.

Seriously, though, honestly, I am so fucking thrilled about my discussion with Nurse Mary. She is so very knowledgable and helpful about fibromyalgia, cerebral palsy, and nerve pains. She smiles all the time. She really really wants to help me. She hugs me. She wants to see me every month, and also because she likes me. I like you too, Nurse Mary.

You guys. YOU GUYS.
This is so COOL.
We took our own car, by the way, with a coworker driving the big truck.
So, Adam and I stopped at my parents' house in Sag Harbor to say hello and eat dinner. And then we drove the Montauk. We got two niights at an adorable little oceanside resort, but we will only use one because GUESS WHAT? Today and the rest of the week, we get to stay at GURNEY'S. AUGH.
http://www.gurneysinn.com/
WHARGARBL.
Adam will be working his job there until FRIDAY and the client wants him and the coworker close by. So we are staying at one of the best and most beautiful resort inns on the East Coast.
Eeeeeeeeeeee!
Vacation. Awesome. Whargarbl. Augh.
So. We have not had a room booked yet. So Adam will work, and my parents will come get me whileI sit in the lobby, and I shall spend the day in Sag Harbor until Adam gets our room and such and it will continue until Friday afternoon and OMG THIS WILL BE SO AWESOME YAY IN CASE YOU CAN'T TELL I AM VERY EXCITED.
I brought a huge pill bottle full of a weeks' worth of drugs and right now my body is rocking the Ultram, Soma, and Klonopin, and I am so ready.
Also I am eating a slice of cold pizza with extra mozzarella, from last night delivered to the hotel room. NEW YORK PIZZA YOUSE GUYS. IT WAS LIKE EATING MAGIC.

BULLETINS AS THEY OCCUR. FROM THE HAMPTONS.