Friday, June 9, 2023

 Friday, June 9, 2023

  I got up too late for a long walk, given I had to be at the dentist's office by 7:40. What was I thinking? We just went to the end of the block and came home. I fed Elsa and jumped in the shower. I was done just in time to make it.  

   The dental hygienist, Roxy, said my plaque didn't look too bad. It was what she would expect if I hadn't just brushed my teeth. However, she found several cavities. One was actually black. Holy cow! I used a soft plastic pic between my teeth, followed by a metal bristle pic, followed by flossing. Then, I brushed my teeth with an electric toothbrush. She pointed out things I needed to be doing. She also said I had twenty minutes after eating to clean my teeth before bacteria started feasting on them, particularly if I ate any form of carbohydrates. The dentist told me that brushing once a day for two minutes would remove all plaque, which is the culprit of tooth decay. Taking good care of our teeth is more challenging than it seems. Waving a toothbrush in the general direction of your teeth doesn't cut it. I left feeling confused, helpless, and depressed.

    I planned to go to town after the dentist to deposit money in my local account to cover the cost of my new iPad Pro + before Visa pulled the money automatically from my account. As I was leaving, it occurred to me I had yet to take my required four antibiotic pills before the dental appointment. Roxy assured me I could take it within an hour after the dental work. I went home immediately and promptly forgot. 

   I had an appointment with Shelly at nine am. I lay down to get some rest before the session. The morning activity left me exhausted. I wanted to work on my residual fear. I had the phone in my lap and was ready to answer it when it rang. A few minutes in, I jumped up, "OMG! I forgot to take my antibiotic." I ran to the bathroom to get the pills. Shelly said, "Trust your immune system." What was she talking about? I had to take the pills because I couldn't trust my immune system. I asked her why she said it. She said to help me calm down. She was denying my reality. How could that help me calm down? She hadn't understood that my reason for taking it was the vulnerability of my immune system. My surgeon and doctor had said I would be vulnerable to infection for at least two years after the THR surgery. The muscles take that long to encapsulate the implant and shield it from bacteria. She assumed my response was unreasonable. She never asked. How can gaslighting me help me calm down? I don't get it. I planned to pursue this with her. If I can understand her point of view differently than I do, maybe I can develop more tolerance for that behavior. As I see it from my experience with my mom and Mike, they calmed me down because my upset upset them. They were basically saying, "Shut up!" Now, maybe they were justified. My hyperness triggered them. Mike got to a point where he was open about that, and I tried to respond. He would say, "Are  you a safe part of my environment now?" He didn't do what my mom did, accuse me of doing or being something wrong. 

  I recently had an insight into why some people see me as selfish. I want giving to others to be a joy. I question the value of giving that benefits the receivers and the givers only suffer. There are situations where that is necessary. Some believe you can only determine the value of the giving by the suffering of the giver. You should always search to perform giving as an act of pure joy. What a privilege, what a delight to give to someone else. Seeing how someone else's mind perceives reality differently than yours is fun. What a pleasure to adapt and see how something suits you. Is it because I don't wear the mantle of martyrdom that people think I am selfish and self-centered? Judy says I have an unusual outlook. She doesn't know anyone else like me. I'm sure there are others. The downside is that I expect it to be a joy for everyone and for them to feel perfectly comfortable when I ask people to accommodate me. 

  I wanted to work on the fear my mother instilled in me as a child. My mother's behavior terrorized me as a child, meaning, well, no less; she gave a gift that keeps giving.   Shelly always asks where the emotion manifests as feeling in my body. It was on the left side somewhere along the bra band. When I get scared, I contract at that point and shift my body weight over to the right, throwing my back out. This is a lifelong fear response. When Shelly asked me to describe it, I gave it a color, black, and a shape, long and narrow; texture, a bit like fluid steel without being hot. Shelly commented this was the first time I had given that much detail. Strangely, I had never done it before because I would ask the people I work with to describe the sensation with descriptions. Shelly said she sometimes asks her clients those questions. That leaves me wondering why she didn't do it with me. I thought of another reason it never occurred to me to do it. I'm trained in Vipassana meditation. You focus only on the sensation to resolve feelings, nothing else.

   Shelly recommended I view this sensation as an implant. In other words, it is not part of me but something someone else inserted into me. I have never done well with this image. Everything we learn in an implant. It's a parent's job to implant their values, beliefs, and rituals in their children. It's that or nothing for the kids. That would leave children without knowing any rules for surviving in the social world. Children with mental disabilities manage to avoid these implants. That's not good. If I learned it, it's mine. My parents implanted their language in me. I learned German and English. I did not learn Japanese or Swahili. I don't feel that 'implant' is an imposition, an intrusion on who I truly am. Some of what my parents implanted was good, and some bad. That's the way it works. I doubt there is such a thing as a parent who implants only positive aspects. No one escapes the human condition. The best we can do is just the best we can do.

   I asked Shelly why I should view a feeling as an implant rather than an aspect of self. It took a while to resolve that: to help me get some distance from the sensation. Feeling responsible for our bad feelings makes dealing harder. Distance is good. I have other ways of dealing with that than blaming someone else for my continuing limitations.  

  I switched my perspective. Instead of feeling it, I looked at it from the outside. I recognized that I got my fear from my mom. I called her the high priestess of fear. Fear worked for her; it got her through life successfully. She was a brave woman who took on challenging tasks that would have overwhelmed a lesser person. My mom was a piece of work; I was so proud of her- and grateful for the positive 'implants' in my life. That fear may have worked for her, but it is not working for me. 

 I focused on the physical image of my fear and saw its connection to my mother. I've seen it before. We all want people who vibrate at the same frequency we do. When the rhythm is off, the interaction feels like bumper cars. It doesn't feel good. She wanted her children on her frequency. Her frequency was one of fear. If I free myself from fear, will I lose all connection to my mom? I know she's been dead now for twenty-two years. What am I talking about? When I focus on people, alive or dead. Each one has their own frequency. I can identify them by it as much as I can by their faces or voices. Through it, I can still feel my connection to them. I can feel their presence in my life. It's a wonderful feeling. Fear was a big part of the frequency I shared with my mom. How can I maintain the connection without fear? How can I resolve this problem, keep the connection, and be free from fear? That's the question I sat with for the session and afterward. How can I get both? Some would say, "Impossible." There must be a way. Whatever, I'm going to continue looking for it. It may be my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but pursuing ideals has often worked enough for me to make it worthwhile.

    I got this strange text from Adolescent D's mom apologizing for the unexpected changes in the schedule. They were adjusting to the summer routine. Huh? What was she talking about? Was there a change in plans for today? It was a few minutes before my scheduled class with D. Yes, there was a change. Okay, What was it/? Finally, I got a message from D saying he was in a class and couldn't meet with me. Could we reschedule? Sure, but it would have been nice if you had told me earlier. It was obvious that his mother had told him to tell me. Why didn't he? He will say he forgot. That's probably true. His short-term memory is worse than mine. I suffer from that problem; I make notes or do the task immediately. I compensate for my deficit. He has to learn to compensate for his disability to do well in the world.

   Paulette called. Was I coming up to get water? Good timing. I picked up the blue bottles for the Kangen water. Elsa went ballistic. She leaped into the car. As usual, I let her out at the bottom of the long driveway. She charged up the hill. I giggle every time. 

  I had a lovely visit with Paulette. She was feeling somewhat better. The drainage tube was out of the infected area. She knew the cause of her cough: a post-surgical problem. The Waimea Hospital hadn't identified the problem. The staff at Kona Hospital, known as a poor hospital to be avoided at all costs, identified the problem and gave her the gadget to practice deep breathing.   Her surgeon told her it would be two months before the surgical site's inflammation completely healed. This is what Sandor reported happened to him. Oh, boy.  

     Scott played with Elsa while she rolled on the kitchen floor. He commented on how red her belly was. When I checked this morning, it didn't seem too red. I thought she was doing okay. I guess not. That redness indicates inflammation. It was late in the day. The sun was close to setting, but it was warm out. I threw her in the kitchen sink and bathed her. She's a good girl with this. We did our evening walk right afterward. It was starting to rain as we walked just to the end of Nehiwa before I turned around to head home. Elsa stopped to smell something. When I turned around, I saw Lutz coming around the corner. I walked back toward him to walk together until I got to my driveway. There was no way I was going to make my 10,000 today.

    I was exhausted by the end of the day but didn't want to go to bed too early. I watched the end of a Netflix movie called Stromboli. It's not terrible, but it's a bit of an overblown psychological drama about recovery from sexual violence.