I always knew pain was our friend. I told my kids this all the time they were growing up. All kinds of pain is good. We feel physical pain to let us know to move our hand from a hot burner or come in out of excessive sun.
We feel emotional pain when it’s time to do something different — react differently. Change something.
Sometimes it’s a combination of both that is the catalyst for a different approach and I can feel the synchronicity of my situation –June and Einstein’s Time and Place — pushing me to pay attention.
That’s how I feel about my bout with shingles here.
Of course, these idiot “experts,” the ones we’re allowed to listen to, say that even though recent studies prove the spike protein alone is causing illness,( and that’s what the vaccines are or cause our bodies to produce–duh), vaccinated people can’t shed these proteins to the unvaccinated. And of course, it’s pure coincidence that the “conspiracy theorist” debunked doctors are reporting cases of blood clots, menstrual irregularities, Bells palsy, some auto-immune problems and wait for it … shingles … among unvaccinated people who have close contact with the recently vaccinated. It’s completely coincidence that I have shingles out of the blue. Since my father insisted on the Moderna vaccine and I caved in as I usually do when he throws his weight around.
My son and I both have Hashimotos which is an autoimmune type thyroid disorder so we might be more at risk.
My father insisted on this vaccine. Even though I wasn’t sure it was right even for him who was mostly quarantined here at home, and even though I had concerns for the rest of us since some of this “conspiracy” virology information was already out there to some degree, I let him do the vaccine figuring it was his body–even though my gut told me he was affecting us all. He has always pushed his weight around and not only done as he pleased but pushed me to do things I didn’t want to do that affected my life.
Of course, this is my fault, not his.
Just another opportunity to see you can love someone without giving them that kind of control over your physical and emotional life–especially when you know it’s not in your best interest.
There will be no more vaccines in this house unless we all decide it’s in our best interests to do them and the situation makes sense for us all at the time. This is my house now and I have a handicapped son to consider here. So if he insists on booster shots and I am not convinced it’s right for us, he will have to go to a facility to live. I am absolutely unconvinced to date that these people have a clue of what they are doing with this virus and/or this vaccine. They have no clue. And instead of getting to the bottom of it, they are covering up this nightmare to save their own asses and continue their funding.
So they can make hybrid human monkeys and put a cloud around the sun, release GM mosquitoes, make fake meat for us to eat. All those sane projects they have in mind for humanity.
But I digress.
Of course, it’s more than that. It’s about freeing myself of him imposing his will upon me–behaving in ways on purpose–subtle though they may be–that are meant to make me feel bad. Like he knows I’m sick, but goes days without asking me how I am–making it clear that any time I am ill, it is an inconvenience for him. Women should never be ill, you know. Even though by the time my mother was my age she was DEAD, I’ve outlived her two years, and he had blood clot issues, Parkinson’s disease and COPD brought on by years of abusing his body with cigarettes and way too much booze. Those things have inconvenienced MY life more than a little. And my health issues are not self-imposed.
He’s a little more sympathetic about something like this he can see.
But the point is, he’s a separate person. He’s not me. I should say I am not HIM. And because HE is miserable, I don’t have to be any more. I’ve spent way too much of my life responding to his every nuance and I need to let that go once and for all. Do my best here to take care of him, but not let him color my days in the way he has. And I need to stay away from him (and my son Josh), until he stops shedding so many spike proteins because this is too much coincidence to please me.
So nothing will happen in this house that affects our health without all of our consent. And no more ruining my days with his foul moods and behavior designed to do just that. Especially not now when I’m sick. Shingles is a lot more than a skin disease. It puts me at a higher risk for stroke and heart attack for at least 27 months, so I can’t afford to be stressed and anxious on top of it. And it’s a nerve disorder that in my case is affecting not just my side and back, sciatica, but my intestines. I can feel my bowel is numb/painful. I had the runs all day yesterday.
So my husband got up here since Dad’s alarm went off a couple times. Which is good. I will go back to sleep for a few hours and celebrate my new resolve to insulate myself from his crap.
Which of course, if I can do that, will make me even more empathetic to his issues, not less. Less resentful and more compassionate. That’s how it works, of course.
Happy Tuesday. I’ll sleep a while, then see about the garden for a bit. Supposed to be a cloudy day which sounds restful to me after 91 and sunny and humid yesterday. A day less imposing.
On all fronts.