For Everything There is a Season

https://ragadamed.com.br/2024/09/18/sgvigeis96m "In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

When Grief Surprises You

Maisy waiting in the car with Mom while Dad was getting his Covid shot.
She absolutely loved car rides!

Buy Valium Bulk Uk I woke up today with the intent of not letting another day go by without getting our tax information ready for our accountant. I know, you’re probably saying, “But it’s August”!

enter site We file extensions every year because my husband’s business tax information doesn’t come to us until right around this time. Meanwhile, I gather all our forms and work on my medical deductions.

get link Calculating the medical deductions is getting easier for me every year, but it takes time. It’s best for me to do it all in one sitting as I have to go through multiple sources to document mileage, tolls, parking, deductibles, etc. I wanted to get it out of the way today because I have some extra free time and because September will be very busy for me. I didn’t want the stress of getting it done hanging over my head.

here I sat myself down in my office this morning and got to work. I have a system put in place that works for me. One aspect of that system is going through my credit card statement, line by line, for the past year. I do this to look for medical expenses that I paid for out of pocket.

Buy Valium Bristol As I was scrolling through my credit card report, I began to get anxious. I wasn’t anxious at all this morning so I noticed it and just kept going. As I continued scrolling, the anxiety got worse and I realized I was on the verge of panic. I have a history of anxiety that recently has been under control, so this feeling was surprising to me.

go Since I am armed with an arsenal of coping skills, I knew I needed to stop what I was doing and deal with the anxiety because it was just going to get worse. I put my pen down and did some diaphragmatic breathing.

go to site It didn’t work.

https://livingpraying.com/lxt5ng7 That was surprising. So I moved on to other breathing techniques, including box breathing and 4-7-8 breathing. I did a grounding technique. I got a little relief, but my heart was still racing like crazy and I thought I was going to throw up. For a split second, I wondered if it was something medical, since these symptoms are also indicative of heart attacks in women. But, I know my body. I know my anxiety.

https://www.drcarolineedwards.com/2024/09/18/4hjzcs9gjt I stopped everything and went through my mind as to everything I had done since I got up this morning to try and figure out what was causing the anxiety. I wasn’t anxious about doing the taxes, but I realized that the page I was on in my credit report was line after line of veterinary charges…

Countryside Animal Hospital
Tufts Veterinary Hospital
Sturbridge Specialty Animal Hospital

And, a host of other expenses for medical and behavioral treatment.

https://www.modulocapital.com.br/v1bg7m403vv I started to cry; not the tears rolling down your cheeks type of crying, but the chest heaving, sobbing kind.

https://www.thoughtleaderlife.com/glh0sb86 It was Maisy.

https://boxfanexpo.com/fv3g6y3exy I was still grieving Maisy.

go site I’ll be honest, this surprised me. Our dog, Maisy, passed away about fourteen months ago and I thought I was on the other side of that grief, as much as one can be anyways. But I knew, with absolute certainty, this was the cause of my anxiety.

https://luisfernandocastro.com/yvc8cdvihy Maisy was the third dog we had lost in the span of five years, one right after the other. Dogs are not just pets to my husband and I, they are family and each loss compounded the previous one. I always said I would write their stories for this blog, but I never found myself able to do so.

https://boxfanexpo.com/lnl0tq9gk Even now, I don’t want to get into the specific details of all we went through with Maisy because it was difficult, heart wrenching, and the stress of her illnesses was one of the many causes of me going through a tough mental health crisis. I have worked through losing Maisy, and the loss of Molly and Foxy, in therapy, but while helpful, therapy is not a cure for grief.

enter There is no cure.

source link And, there is no way around the grief. You have to walk through it and hope that as you do, the good memories will slowly take over those difficult memories of their illness and subsequent death.

https://technocretetrading.com/osot81z9 The grief of a beloved pet is a unique one. For me, it has been just as hard as the losses I have experienced with my loved ones. It’s the loss of a companion, a friend, and your source of comfort.

click here It’s the loss of unconditional love.

see Whether it’s the loss of a pet, beloved family member, friend, job, health, etc., grief has no rules that it plays by. It is an experience that we must journey through and weave into the fabric of our daily lives.

https://semnul.com/creative-mathematics/?p=sjuox4k61 One of the hardest parts of grief for me is how it can catch me off guard at the most unexpected times. The other day, I was scrolling through my Facebook memories and there were photos of Molly in her healthier years and it truly brought me joy. Another day, I came upon a video on social media of a purebred husky that was playing just like Foxy used it and the resemblance was uncanny. It made me sad as I yearned for all the experiences we wouldn’t have with her. Last night, my husband and I were watching the end of the Westminster Dog Show and enjoyed watching the final selection, as well as cheering for the winner.

Buy Diazepam Uk Next Day Delivery But this morning I was doing taxes, and BAM, there was all my grief over losing Maisy, pouring out like it had happened that day in June 2020. So, I let it pour out. My first instinct was to try and ignore it while pushing on with doing my taxes, but I have come to learn that I need to allow what I’m feeling to be what it is, in that particular moment.

source site I put my head down on my desk and cried for as long as I needed to. I immediately felt better afterwards. My heart rate returned to normal. My stomach settled down. I had very little left to do to finish the taxes, so I finished them. But then, I felt like I needed to do more with my grief experience. I needed to write. I often ignore this need in favor of getting some other task done. Also, when I do write lately, I have been focusing on journaling just for myself.

https://traffordhistory.org/lookingback/yp3io8m This one though, I’m putting out into the world. Because I know you, the people who adore their beloved pets, and the grief we experience when their too short lives end, sometimes after years and years of love and devotion and sometimes just when we start to fall deeply in love with them.

Buy Diazepam Uk Reviews Our pets are such an important part of our story.
Love them.
Grieve them.
Honor them.

Published Essay on The Mighty Website

Order Diazepam Overnight Delivery Happy Summer, everyone! I had a great experience recently that I’d like to share with you. For those of you who are not familiar with the website The Mighty, it is a supportive, safe community for people, who deal with medical/health challenges. I have found many of their essays to be helpful to me personally, both for information and to read about struggles other people with illness face. I first heard of The Mighty many years ago and had considered submitting amd essay, but was too focused on my blog at the time.

follow site Recently, a friend encouraged me to submit a piece of my writing to The Mighty and I did. I haven’t done a lot of formal writing recently (just journaling), and it felt so good to create something again.

here The essay is titled “I’m No Longer Ashamed of Using Disability Parking with an Invisible Illness” and I’m happy to report that it was published on The Mighty’s website earlier this month. If you are interested in reading it, I’m including it below. Happy reading!

Buy Diazepam 5Mg I’m No Longer Ashamed of Using Disability Parking With an Invisible Ilness

https://www.drcarolineedwards.com/2024/09/18/x2obq87

From Bed to Couch and Back Again

This is me today. I have been awake for two hours and out of bed for about an hour. I’m surprised I’m even awake at all since all I want to do lately is sleep. I have successfully brushed my teeth and made my bed. That’s it.

I am now sitting on the chaise portion of our way-too-big-for-the room couch and despite considering putting up a big fight, I’m surrendering to the fact that this is where I am spending the day. And when it gets to be too much, I’ll walk the ten feet back around the corner to my bed. And, try to be OK with that.

I look at this photo and I see a lot. I see someone who desperately wants to wash her hair and doesn’t have the energy, or balance, to do so safely. I see the sweatshirt that I have now been wearing for several days, but changing it would mean doing laundry. I see the tiredness in my eyes from the inconsistent sleep and medical stress that has come my way lately.

Behind my eyes is my brain trying to convince itself that everything is alright…that all the small things I had planned at home for today aren’t going to happen and it’s not the end of the world. The catch up phone calls won’t happen. They are too daunting because I honestly cannot remember something I heard ten minutes ago today, so I can’t focus, and I just don’t have the energy to spare today. And as anyone with chronic illness can tell you, talking on the phone is the equivalent of going for a fast paced walk for many of us.

I try to be patient with myself and my current restrictions, but it is hard. The past ten days have not only flattened me physically, but mentally and emotionally as well…maybe even more so than physically. I got a diagnosis from one of my doctors that is in no way a big deal, but does require monitoring and possibly some treatment decisions down the road. This, I can handle.

I got a second diagnosis that is major in all the ways that these kinds of things can be: you have to first accept it, digest it, think about the short and long-term implications, start a treatment plan, get frustrated with treatment plan right off the bat because damnit, you just want your body to work right for once in its friggin’ life.

You cry.

You yell at God.

You apologize for yelling at Him. Although you’re pretty sure He understands.

You thank God that it’s not worse.

You beg God to just give you enough energy to make your husband supper tonight because gosh, that man deserves one hot meal waiting for him this week.

I am not handling this diagnosis as gracefully.

But let’s get back to the photo. What if I looked at the photo differently? What if instead of choosing to see all the things I can’t do or can’t take care of, I look at my face, one which smiles with memories of joyful times…my eyes, which are bright with hope for the future…my chest, which holds a heart that has been loved several lifetimes over.

My days on the couch, or in the bed, don’t define me and neither do my illnesses. Maybe the couch days are quiet opportunities to spend time with the One who does define me. Maybe they are a chance to try and be friends with my rebellious body. Maybe they are a chance to be still and grateful. Since I had no intention of blogging this week and I rather spontaneously picked up my laptop to write this morning, maybe the couch days are opportunities to use our gifts.

If you are having a couch, or bed, day today, know that you are not alone. There are a lot of us out here with you slogging through our health issues the best we can.

It’s alright to have couch days.

It’s alright to rest.

You’ve got this.

The Difficult Balance Between Nature and Development

go site Guest post written by Patricia D’Ascoli

Photo credit: Patricia D’Ascoli

The setting is Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, a lovely, ever expanding city that invites tourists and retirees. I am of the latter category. Although a recent transplant, I find myself objecting to the burgeoning housing almost as heartily as a native. But on the other hand, not really, because I have no idea what this coastal town looked like in days gone by, before monster hotels and multi-story condos intruded upon the “Grand Strand” as it is called, wiping out unobtrusive motels and filling up the shoreline with sun blotting structures.

What I do know is that in the two years I have lived here, residential developments have lain waste to acres of forested land; stately pines have been murdered and hauled away to meet their fate in the shredder. Perhaps they will become mulch. But in their absence, the bare, brown ground sits littered with stumps and branches. Birds and other wildlife have evacuated; there is nothing left for them to feed on or nest in. Monsters sit poised upon this land—great excavators and bulldozers await their instructions from greedy developers.

Homeowners in the vicinity weep. I think they do at least, as they see another development going up in their backyards. How quickly they forget that not too long ago, their own pretty neighborhood was a forest. When I say pretty, I don’t mean that at all. Developments less than ten years old are devoid of meaningful foliage. Palmettos planted uniformly grace every front yard. Scrappy bushes pass for hedges. Fake ponds attempt to break up the monotony of beige houses that all look alike.

This is what once proud trees have been sacrificed for.

I live in a condo overlooking a beautiful golf course that has recently been closed. Holes and pipes dot the landscape where manicured greens once welcomed golfers. Soon construction will begin on a new residential development that will feature 220 single family homes. “No Trespassing-Construction Zone” signs have been posted at strategic locations to warn asylum seeking walkers to stay away. The paths along the course are now forbidden territory.

My view of pine trees, luscious Bermuda grass, whimsical sand traps and peaceful ponds will be obliterated. The sounds of excavation and building will disrupt the tranquility I have enjoyed for two years. What was once protected land will be destroyed.

There are almost 100 golf courses in Myrtle Beach. Each course is an oasis amidst the arid landscape of ever expanding residential and commercial development. I am not a golfer, but I enjoy living on a golf course, as many residents do. Several courses were forced to close during the pandemic, and it remains to be seen whether they will reopen or if their owners will be forced to sell to builders. Many homeowners who currently enjoy a golf course view will no doubt have to contend with the decimation of charming vistas.

I am devastated by the take down of defenseless forests. If the lands were destined to be golf courses, the destruction of trees would be a little less painful to me. Just a little. In my own neighborhood in Carolina Forest, several arboreal graveyards along River Oaks Drive will soon house unattractive commercial complexes and nondescript neighborhoods. It is heartbreaking to see once magnificent woodlands wiped out.

As a concerned citizen perhaps it is my duty to make my voice known—to get involved with local groups fighting against further development. For such development will surely affect the environment, strain water and sanitation systems, increase flooding, impact the infrastructure, and put greater demands on emergency services.

I could attend zoning meetings. I could write letters to council members. And yet, it is not fair for me to oppose such development. I would be a hypocrite. After all, I escaped to Myrtle Beach; I sought haven in a place where the weather is warm and beaches beckon year-round. A place where property taxes are low and housing prices are relatively reasonable. So how can I begrudge those who follow in my footsteps? Should they not be allowed to experience all this area has to offer?

In the end, they will come. Perhaps they will not object as I have to the charmless developments springing up throughout the area. It is likely they will, in fact, occupy the beige houses that sit upon land once covered with splendid pine trees. And they will enjoy Myrtle Beach, oblivious as I was to how it looked once upon a time.

The Beauty In Psalm 139: 13-18

Photo credit: Sanjeevan SatheesKumar

This is my verse of comfort tonight after a challenging week. It is my reminder of where I come from, who’s in charge, and who I truly belong to. So much peace in these words.

Be well, friends. ❤️

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you.”


‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139:13-18‬ ‭NIV‬‬

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