Bitch on the Blog

May 6, 2010

Premature

Filed under: Despair — bitchontheblog @ 11:59

Friends, foes, countrymen, sweethearts and bystanders,

The rot has set in. Age wise I don’t even qualify:

Dementia is mine. Evidenced by my referring earlier today  (in a reply to Magpie) to Dartmoor as Dartford Moors, I then go out to buy some grocery and my card’s pin is not recognized (I do know that there is a “what’s it” and a “what’s it” involved but clearly not  in the right order). Considering that I use that number every day – on auto pilot – am now spooked and frightened as to what the  future might hold for me. Fled shop embarrassed, asked them to hold my shopping till brain is ticking once more and/or my son contactable as he will know my pin. It’s awful. Is this what happens to people past their sell by date? And why is my mother still fully functioning when I am clearly not?

U

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25 Comments »

  1. Well, clearly, it’s because you don’t get enough sleep. Up at 3 AM at the computer. Try Books on CDs, the only thing that gets me to sleep– along with exercise, but not too late in the day.

    Don’t you just love people with unasked-for advice?

    As for memory lapses–I get those often. At least I know that Bush is our President. (That’s a joke.)

    Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 14:17 | Reply

    • I too miss Bush and his clangers. Just came across this one, and it’s perfectly harmless if baffling: “I know the human being and fish can co-exist peacefully.”

      Pregnant pause. And I am not even pregnant.

      My true loss is Bill Clinton. It never mattered to me WHAT he said. His delivery was/is divine.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 19:37 | Reply

  2. bikehikebabe,
    I know they say don’t exercise late in the day but I do at least some just before I go to bed. I have trouble sleeping if I don’t.

    Ursula,
    If you’re sleep-deprived anything can happen. Don’t make too big a deal of it.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 17:29 | Reply

    • Jean, don’t make a big deal of what? Being sleep-deprived or anything happening?

      I have been told that sleep deprivation (one of the torture methods used to make you confess to having murdered your own grandmother) coupled with a somewhat distinct lack of appetite should be made a very BIG deal of indeed. Unfortunately, I don’t. I just ignore it. Neither do I pop pills.

      My son has his own take on it: “Mama, you are killing yourself.” And he might well be right.

      Sometimes in life, Jean, and I am prime a example of it, it’s no use to pretend that all is well. With me everything is always well. And it is. Denial, misplaced optimism, downright irresponsible? Who knows. I am one of those hugely – to others – irritating people who always puts a smiling optimistic spin on things. But any of us can only hide for so long, and then the car veers off the road.

      This blog has become somewhat of a confessional which in itself is a complete hoot since I am being accused, even by close friends, of being one of the most private/secretive people ever. Still, maybe it is easier to weep at the bosom of strangers. Sometimes I wish BHB could take me on one of her walks to clear my head. I am sorry, Jean, I am not so good at the moment.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 17:57 | Reply

      • Don’t make a big deal about acting flaky when you’re sleep-deprived.

        “I am one of those hugely – to others – irritating people who always puts a smiling optimistic spin on things.” So your ranting about positive thinkers is really aimed at yourself?

        Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 18:42 | Reply

        • Jean, your response, considering that I lay myself wide open, is rather interesting in its brevity and not responding to my aches, as feeble and negligible as they may be. Maybe coincidence, but I do keep running into people in my life who are very good at rationalising but show no sympathy whatsoever to any woes one might have. Always thought it a peculiarly British trait. That few do [show sympathy] no doubt a reflection, once more, on my own wanting self. No wonder I keep myself to myself.

          U

          Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 19:28 | Reply

          • Poor, poor baby, Ursula. I’m so sorry you are having little aches, pains & set-backs in your life right now. I know life is hard sometimes. —How’s that for sympathy.

            After you get the love & understanding you need, remember not to waddle in self pity. When you look back later, you won’t even remember what you worried about.

            Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 20:50 | Reply

            • Bike Hike Babe, I am surprised at your response and do not know what to make of it.

              Unfortunately, my aches are not “little”. Neither are they “set-backs”. Let’s call whatever is happening ‘propelling’ me forward.

              As to self pity: People readily prescribe to the notion that in order to love someone else you need to love yourself first. Let’s add, sensibly, that there is no merit in feeling pity for others when we can’t extend the courtesy to ourselves.

              U

              Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 22:17 | Reply

  3. PS You might like the graphic in my latest post:
    http://stresstopower.com/blog/2010/05/07/sometimes-it-pays-to-procrastinate/

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 18:44 | Reply

  4. Ursula,
    “I do keep running into people in my life who are very good at rationalising but show no sympathy whatsoever to any woes one might have.” Ah, yes, sympathy. I used to be a sucker for sad stories but in the course of teaching classes and leading groups on stress management, personal growth, dealing with difficult people for over ten years I ran into a lot of people who weren’t interested in improving their lives, they were mainly interested in having people listen to their tales of woe. That wasn’t true of everyone. Some people did change their lives.

    Anyway I’m no longer interested in people who seem determined to wallow in their misery. I don’t know enough about you to know if you’re one of them but my default reaction is no longer to say “Poor dear.” I’m more apt to think what I say to myself when I’m tempted to indulge in self-pity: “Suck it up. Life is tough. Why should you be any different?”

    The most interesting experience I had with my compulsion to be a good listener was the period when I was a listening post for a woman:
    http://stresstopower.com/blog/2008/04/13/what-i-learned-from-being-a-listening-post/

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 21:36 | Reply

    • Jean, maybe I should have used the word “empathy” instead. In short supply.

      What I so detest about what I call the ‘happiness industry’ is that these platitudinous books make you feel responsible for that over which you have NO control. It’s bullshit. The Americas have us now believe that positive thinking will conquer any ills. Lovely. Absolutely brilliant. So your cancer won’t go into remission, and guess what: You only have YOURSELF to blame. A spot of positive thinking, reassuring your mirror every morning how marvellous you are and a quick prayer before bedtime and you will live happily ever after. THE END.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 22:26 | Reply

      • Your point is very well taken.

        BUT— if I think about the positive & don’t dwell on the negative, which will probably go away anyway, I save myself a lot of worry & heartache.

        Don’t know how I’d deal with cancer that won’t go into remission. I don’t believe positive thinking eradicates cancer.

        Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 23:13 | Reply

  5. Ursula,
    Your posts seem to be high on drama but they don’t contain enough details to tell a compelling story. My guess is you would evoke more sympathy if you improve the narrative.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 22:29 | Reply

    • Yeah Ursula, how can we be sympathetic if we don’t know what the problem is? We can be especially sympathetic if we relate to the problem. Misery enjoys company. Then we can pity ourselves & you too. That’s a bond.

      Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 22:44 | Reply

      • O.K. I went back & read the original post. You forgot your pin number & I said we all have memory lapses. But there must be more underlying complaints that you don’t tell us.

        How about this. I’m old. I’ll die soon the way time flies. We have plenty of money, but I’ve never indulged myself & spent it. You wouldn’t believe the way I save the pennies.

        My house is beautiful, but it’s hidden under too much stuff, which I keep accumulating from Freecycle. (Not like those houses on TV where the furniture is covered.) I hate that, but don’t think I can change. I seem to like my clutter, but love the pics of stark modern rooms with the bare essentials—some furniture, period.

        I’m recovering from all my joint replacements but IT’S HAPPENING MUCH TOO SLOW! etc.

        Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 23:03 | Reply

      • Jean and Cynthia, I take your point. However, you have highlighted where the crux lies. And where I made a mistake. And why – by instinct – I never wanted to write a blog.

        Firstly, and I mean it: What I wrote was never meant to elicit any sympathy/empathy. Since I am perceived as very strong I’ve got used to not getting much of either. Which is fine. Secondly, how can I give a narrative of my life in what is such a public medium? I can’t. It’s not me. Some people will tell me their life’s story after the first five minutes we have met. They don’t care. It’s enviable. I am not like that. I have nothing to hide, yet even I am vulnerable.

        My son, having witnessed how unhappy it makes me whilst laughing my head off at the same time, believes that the internet (other than leaving the odd comment here or there) is not my medium to communicate with other people. That I should concentrate on what he calls “the real people” in my world. No doubt, he is right, considering how easily I hurt. But – and this is where the cat chases her own tail – for me all of you ARE real. I talk to you as if you were sitting right there around my dinner table. Now I am calling taxis.

        U

        Comment by bitchontheblog — May 6, 2010 @ 23:19 | Reply

        • I think of you as being a real (& very interesting) person too.

          Comment by bikehikebabe — May 6, 2010 @ 23:39 | Reply

  6. Ursula,
    “What I wrote was never meant to elicit any sympathy/empathy.” So what was the purpsoe of this bit?

    Maybe coincidence, but I do keep running into people in my life who are very good at rationalising but show no sympathy whatsoever to any woes one might have. Always thought it a peculiarly British trait. That few do [show sympathy] no doubt a reflection, once more, on my own wanting self. No wonder I keep myself to myself.

    It sounded as if you thought people should be more sympathetic.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 23:37 | Reply

  7. Obviously that should have been purpose not purpsoe.

    I agree that in general blogs aren’t the best medium for personal conversations. Do you trust e-mail more? They’re not quite as public and it does mean you can connect with people outside of your immediate friends/acquaintances.

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 6, 2010 @ 23:41 | Reply

  8. Here’s one gal I have a lot of compassion for: http://www.jennyryan.com/?page_id=3694

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 7, 2010 @ 17:16 | Reply

    • She has fibromyalgia. But was relieved after her surgery according to her comments. Didn’t understand that.

      Comment by bikehikebabe — May 7, 2010 @ 18:18 | Reply

      • She talked about that in a previous post. As I recall she also needed gall bladder surgery in addition to the fibromyalgia and a previous bout of C. difficule. She really is dealing with a lot. My heart goes out to her.

        Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 7, 2010 @ 20:42 | Reply

  9. Of course, speaking of suffering, my sister-in-law struggled with MS for 21 years. She was in intense pain part of that time. Her determination and positive attitude didn’t help.

    http://linguistlist.org/issues/19/19-2338.html

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — May 8, 2010 @ 08:07 | Reply

  10. Ursula, chill! It’s happened to me too. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong!

    Comment by gaelikaa — May 10, 2010 @ 18:30 | Reply

  11. Oh, I’ve completely forgotten my pin numbers from time to time. Not to mention people’s names, how common words are spelt, whose child is whose etc etc. It might be age, but then again it might just be information overload. We’re expected to remember so many things nowadays, like passwords and pin numbers and mobile numbers, it’s not surprising if sometimes our brain seizes up and just can’t retrieve something. Now what was your name again?

    Comment by Nick — May 15, 2010 @ 07:32 | Reply


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