Problem Of Pain

Migraine, or whatever it is, hurts so bad that nausea sweeps in.

Five days of it, every three to five weeks, for, what, twenty years now?

Family physicians, a neurologist, naturopaths, a homeopath, chiropractors, massage therapists, and a physiotherapist all failed to fix.

CBD oil prescription is expensive and doesn’t fix. It helps minimally. THCa oil in acute attacks does the same.

Hospital emergency rooms in desperate moments is a gamble. Triage. Wait a long time. Downtime from duties. Need someone to do the drive home. Get shot with something that sometimes works. Demerol worked once, but when requested the next time, it was refused. Morphine took the edge off and allowed sleep, but the pain returned by morning. Ketorolac 60 mg injected with Gravol to combat the nausea it can cause works 80% of the time.

Face-first into a wall in 1988. Unknown whiplash unhealed. Spine grown twisted. Escaped from perpetrator.

Now add in the pain from being knocked over by a dog. Twice. Back of skull first day. Then knee next day.

Monday: Liquid nitrogen to plantar surface of left foot for wart. Burns.

Tuesday: Cleaning the kitchen because foot too sore Monday to clean before bed. Stuffing and baking a turkey. Many hours. Remove stuffing and refrigerate. When turkey cools, remove meat from bones and refrigerate. Put drippings in container to use for gravy. Too late at night to make gravy. Make it tomorrow.

Wednesday: Many processes to prepare for making turkey pies. Grind wheat outside in grain grinder because it leaks flour. Thank God for grinder given by friend. Good grinder is mailed to Vancouver Island shop under warranty.

Make turkey bone broth. All day.

Clean, clean, clean. Laundry. Floor. Cat litter boxes. Delegate but only so much kids can do. Listen to kids. Answer kids. Interact with kids. Pray for kids. Dishes in dishwasher, plus ongoing big pots and bowls washed in sink. Fold and put away laundry. Declutter stuff in ongoing decluttering after new bedroom carpet installed.

Thursday: Whole wheat olive oil pie crusts x6.


Chopped carrots, celery, onions. Sauteed.

Other things unremembered. Many. Too many. Tears in there a time or two. Mine.

Thursday night, now: Suddenly realize forgot to let dog back in house. Oldest daughter to the rescue, brings her in. Long past bedtime.

Brain is gone. Somehow over three days of cooking, this is result:


Stuffing from homemade bread

Gravy for turkey pies

Three turkey pies

Vietnamese spring rolls

Turkey soup

So much rice.

Onions were absent so they had to be bought this morning.

Family ate filling for turkey pies when it wasn’t yet done so had to stretch it by thawing Italian sausage from freezer and browning it… then driving to store to buy potatoes to cook and add.

Big pots to wash in sink. Sore hands from so much washing.

Phone calls I cannot return, added to list.

Deadlines for forms that needed to be filled.

People to contact via text and email. None for pleasure. Business and stress.

Dear friend in distress. Suicidal. Fear. Prayer.

Dear friend’s father had a seizure and in hospital. Prayer.

Noises in house.

Kids doing what told not to.

Me yelling.


Ringing sound. High pitch ringing that permeates the room. Source unknown.

. . . . . .

See also: Giving Up


Saturday nothings…

spring melt2

Just a quick note because I want to keep seeing the little thing that tells me how many days of a streak I’m on with posting blog entries on WordPress.

The photo above is from the nearby town of 100 Mile House, BC. Snow has finally melted away, the ice is turning back to liquid H2O, and the sun is shining.

I had a great day today, but right now there’s no time to write about it. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk another time about the meeting I had with a local author, and all the encouragement I gathered as a result, but for now I’m off to buy a few beef weiners and maybe some s’mores ingredients for a bonfire is in the works this evening.

Oh, and if you want to leave a comment, I hope you can find the procedure to do so. I’ve not had time to fix things up on my blog to make the comment section easier, or to include an auto-signature line that apologizes for the necessity of having to sign up with a free WordPress account before you can comment. But if you do get it figured out, let me know you’re alive and tell me a bit about your day. Not many people read my blog anyway, so you don’t have to worry about ending up being spammed by replies.

PS: Here it is – the thing that tells me I’m on a 7-day streak.
Saturday nothings indeed! 🙂

7 day streak


That feeling of wanting to tell people about the things that are troubling you because maybe someone who is reading it can relate and not feel so alone themselves, or maybe someone could offer hope, but holding back the details because the echo of “who cares?” rings on in a mocking tone…

Knowing that few to no people read my blog, I am relatively safe to go with my first feeling and do some venting.

My blog here on WordPress is not like the dreaded Facebook where any one of 560 people might suddenly decide to post a rude comment to make themselves feel superior and knock me down a little further.

Why do I have such volatile people on my friend list in the first place? Well, they don’t show that side at first. It’s not until they get to know me more that they see things about me that they dislike and they feel safe to blast me.

Wow, does that ever sound familiar. That was the case with the ex. He seemed so nice at first. And he sure saw a lot about me that he disliked. I did him a favour and removed my reprehensible self from his presence, but he took it as an offense and did all he could do to punish me for leaving.

Of course, that is far in the past, yet he and his new wife retain an interest in keeping tabs on me. They find out about things I write on my Facebook timeline when it is set so supposedly only “friends” can read it. I don’t write anything I wouldn’t want to be read by them, but it is strange that they get my news without being on my friend list.

Apparently, someone on my friend list is an informant.

I must be important!

Sometimes I don’t feel like being so visible, so I retreat to another Facebook account that contains a smaller number of friends, none affiliated with the ex and co.

They all might read this, too.

I don’t care.

On an unrelated note, today I drank too much coffee. I had three cups. Normally, I have one or zero cups. It is late in the evening. I want to sleep but am too caffeinated, so I am writing here.

And today was emotionally exhausting.

That is all I will say about that.

I wish some really nice person would read this and message me with an offer to come take me to a cabin in the wilderness for free, telling me the only catch is that I produce at least 200 pages of my book draft before they will return to bring me home.

The really nice person could give me a day to pack. I’d bring my laptop, my journals, a toothbrush, toothpaste, some clothes, and some food.

The really nice person would come pick me up, drive me to the cabin, and then drive back to my house to care for my kids while I am gone. They would be a patient and loving soul, able to coach my family on the importance of initiative in doing chores, explaining to them how much it has been killing me to be the manager and executor of far more than a mother should do, and that if they don’t lighten her load considerably, her next departure will be permanent, as her strength will have expired and death will claim her.

I am tired. Maybe my mind will slow down and I can sleep.

Tomorrow might be better. Or worse. Who knows?

(And yeah… Who cares?)

Former Friends

Even the people you think are friends can sometimes really be enemies. Such hatred aimed my way by those I thought I knew is shocking, but all the more does it push me to lean on the Lord Jesus Christ as the One who will never leave me nor forsake me.

Scrawling About God

Sometimes I feel like going out to my incomplete writing shed, taking a pen and notebook, and writing in big scrawling letters about how much I love God, obliterating the thoughts of how frustrated I am with everything else in the world.

Yes, focusing on my love for Him (“We love him, because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:19). and what I know from His Word about His love for me, throwing in some imagination and inferences about how heaven is going to be, is what I need to do, and perhaps I will find that for those few moments, nothing else will matter.

If I could do it in crayon on large sheets of newsprint, all the better.

But then…

“Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.” *

*Taken from Frederick M. Lehman’s “The Love Of God”
(Of note, “scrawling” is not considered a proper word. Right now, I do not care.)

Perfume and Anxiety Reduction

Could it be that a beautiful perfume might reduce my feelings of anxiety?

Breathing deeply is supposed to help, so maybe if I buy that bottle of Meow perfume, about which I wrote in yesterday’s blog entry, it will encourage me to partake of more air when it is of a lovely scented variety.

That thought occurred to me as my almost-4-year-old daughter placed her oatmeal bowl on my desk.  She said, “I’ll leave this here for you, Mama, so you can smell it.  Go like this…”

And she demonstrated a deep breath, which she released with a satisfied, “ahhhhhh”.


I didn’t want a box around my signature.
How do I remove it?

Related posts:

Flashbacks from this time a few years ago

Today, I keep having flashbacks of January/February 2004, when I was living in the women’s shelter.

I have had several flashbacks of going through the search for a place to rent.

It was January 25, 2004, when I made the final step in my escape from the abusive ex.

There’s more, but that’s all I want to say about that for now.

Here’s the long story, needing chapter divisions and grammatical revisions:

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