I was left a small inheritance from my grandma. Unhesitatingly, I gave it away to a cousin – one of my grandma’s other grandchildren – that was in school and really needed the money far more than I did. It got me thinking, why the money was something I wasn’t at all greedy for when I am greedy for so many other things. I realized I never really thought of the inheritance as mine. I never imagined a future with…
This body is not my own. If it were mine it wouldn’t be showing such intense signs of aging and wear after just 41 years. My skin wouldn’t be covered in brown and red spots. My hip joint and toe joint and knees wouldn’t be worn and hard to use. If this body were actually my own it would reflect my idea of who I am –pretty and fit and buttoned up and in control ( if not of everything…
Like the Underwear, the Lady parts are not mine. My Lady Parts are not my own. If they were they would never become filthy or smelly, uncomfortably moist, sweaty, itchy or infected. If my lady bits were my own they would stay fresh and clean all the time. They would stay healthy and disease free. But alas, no matter how many times I shower, all it takes is a few hours before my lady parts become stinky again. No matter…
This Underwear is not Mine My underwear are not my own. If they were, they would never become filthy, smelly, moist and soiled. If my underwear were my own they would stay fresh and clean at all times. But alas, no matter how many times I wash the underwear, all it takes is a few hours of wear before they become filthy all over again. My underwear is not mine, if it was, it would be under my control. In fact…
The sunscreen I diligently use, depend on every day isn’t mine — it is something I use to protect myself, but it is also leeching chemicals that can harm me through my skin. My blood isn’t mine, it is supposed to protect me, nourish my tissues and organs, but it also carries lipids to my heart and clogs my arteries. Is something that acts against me –threatens my life, mine? My skin cream is not mine. It is a consumable…
My skin is not my own. If it were mine it would go unchanged, hold tight to the form I adore, it wouldn’t crinkle or wrinkle or sag with ease. But in truth my skin has already shown the tell tale signs of ware, it has age spots, wrinkles , lines and sags. Despite all my lotions and potions and exercises and machines, the skin has assumed a shape I so not adore. All it took was excess heat, excess facial…
My band aid is not mine. If it were mine it would stay put when I applied it, it wouldn’t wrinkle or crinkle and fall off with ease. But in truth my Band-Aid began to unstick within hours of application. Despite what the box advertised, it easily became unstuck. All it took was a small amount of water and the bandage began to come off in the shower. At the very least, if this bandage were mine, it would protect…
Like the phone strap, this body is not mine. My body is not under my control — all the lab work suggests it is wearing out faster than I want it to. I fear that at the current rate of wear it will become useless to me sooner rather than later, at least sooner than I am ready to part with it, while I still need it. This body is not my own because it will depart from me on its…
This Phone Strap is Not Mine My phone strap is not under my control — it is wearing out faster than I want it to. At its current rate of wearing it is likely to become useless to me before I am ready to part with it, while I think I still need it. This phone strap is not my own because it will depart from me on its time and not on mine. This phone strap is not under…
Body is like my computer. This body is not mine: This body is not my own. If it were mine it wouldn’t be showing such intense signs of aging and wear after just 41 years. My skin wouldn’t be covered in brown and red spots. My hip joint and toe joint and knees wouldn’t be worn and hard to use. If this body were actually my own it would reflect my idea of who I am –pretty and fit and…
The next few blogs — written as in the days I awaited my cervical biopsy results — are a return to an exercise, from the Anatta-lakkhana Sutra, that I had been doing during my 2020 personal retreat. As a little reminder, the exercise was a series of questions, framed as a conversation between the Buddha and the practitioner, to guide contemplation on the nature of self in regard to our bodies and our physical belongings. The contemplation begins by taking…
I went to the gynecologist for my annual exam, yet another post-vax appointment for adulting that I so loathed. The thing is, this year, it wasn’t really an annual exam — I had skipped 2020, fearing covid, so now I suppose it was I bi-annual exam. Breast exam was fine, check. But during the pelvic exam the doctor found something “atypical” on my cervix and collected cells for a biopsy. I got home and, naturally, started stressing. I stressed that I…
One of my first post-vax appointments was the dermatologist. I left the doctor’s office with a few fewer moles and refills on my rosacea medications. When I got home and cracked open a fresh new tube of my medicated cream, I decided to once again thinking about rupa, rosacea and me. Specifically about how exactly –what it will finally take –to make myself see clearly that this face, this body, it isn’t myself or mine. It isn’t about me. At first, I…
Finally, after over a year of strict isolation, I got vaccinated and was ready to burst out of my bubble and embrace the world again. But, before I could bask in the joys of my newfound freedom I had responsibilities to attend to. First and foremost, a shit ton of doctors appointments I had put off far too long. Of course, I don’t really want to go to the dentist, GYN, eye doc, etc. These things are not fun, these things…
At my first visit, my new rheumatologist asked some questions about my symptoms (I had none save the one time blue finger) and ordered additional labs. When all the results came back, I had a second appointment and the Dr. basically told me that I had markers of a possible, future autoimmune disease, but in the absence of symptoms, there was nothing to do but wait and see. I pressed her for solutions, things I could do to keep the…
Waiting for more information from the doctors, waiting for a diagnosis, waiting for the symptoms of illness to set in, waiting to get sick and die, I got to thinking more about what exactly autoimmunity is and how it is an illness that fits my own brand of crazy… What is autoimmunity — it is my own body attacking myself. It fits. It fits my personality. I am so harsh and unaccepting, of others, but especially of myself. It is part…
Suddenly, my finger turned blue, and with a momentary sting, a shock of color, my whole life changed. The pain was over in a flash. The fingers back to their normal pink within 2 days. But the Drs visit, and the subsequent lab work, uncovered abnormalities –markers of autoimmune disease — with a lingering effect. I was referred to a rheumatologist, and as I waited for my appointment with the specialist, I started down the google-rabbit-hole to try and self…
