Have you ever wondered, “What exactly is my purpose on our little shining blue ball floating around in our vast universe?”
Congratulations, so have I!
It took me the better part of my teenage years – if not very young adult life – to get to the stage where I thought, “Yes! Eureka! Yes, I found out what I am doing here!”
Translated, it sounded more like this, “I know where I am going to live!”
Part of the master plan that had been hiding in my unconscious mind had already been set in motion, albeit drifting rebelliously between my conscious and the harder to access unconscious level, before mischievously appearing again.
[Submissive Sunday] “The needle, so needed. The fluid, water of life. Not stopping my illness progressing, but slowing down relapses. MS, as always having more than one meaning, one more way of living it.”
Injection needle, fridge. Taking out another pre-filled syringe to ward of future multiple sclerosis relapses.
To others? A scary thing, a daily habit they could not fathom.
Please allow me some nepotism and introduce you to the honourable American/Irish author and my friend Trevis Gleason! He penned a fantastic, witty, humorous and moving memoir about a very unexpected MS diagnosis, ending an old and starting a new career and fulfilling his dream of living in Ireland. You can buy his book here:
“Oh, you can bet I am willing, I am usually more than willing. When physical restraints curb your potential, you realise that you want so more from your own life, and out of your own reality. Life is moving forward outside your medically induced world, and you feel annoyed when healthy people don’t realise the worth of their bodies, their unused potential.
It simply reminds you that being chronically ill sucks.
It’s energy being depleted in all the wrong places. There is no uptake to being ill. There is no room for maneuvering when you’re faced with an illness that will -quite literally- be there until you draw your last breath. Do take it from someone who’s already stared death in the face because of it; it is so not all it’s cracked up to be, honey.“
In proper Wikipedia language, it reads “An argument or other discussion that has continued ‘to [the point of] nausea.” In Irish slang, “We are bloody well tired of talking or hearing about it.”
And that, dear reader, we are. Severely sick and tired of hearing that the Irish government will ratify the UNCRPD by a specified date, only to find out that they very silently forgot to live by that promise. Needless to say, having the gift of the gab in Dáil Éireann is an advantage, yet those we elected to represent our very needs refuse to use that gift when it matters most. Continue reading “UNCRPD, Ireland’s ten-year moral outrage”→
Imagine this… Some time ago you were finally able to give answers to these two questions, “Who am I, and what is my purpose in life?” While admitting the questions were rather philosophical as well as personal, you are suddenly thrown back to square one, and you once again want to find out who and what.
The last few months, I’ve read and watched more political news about Donald Trump than I could stomach. As a result, shortcut rambling and biased vernacular on Twitter now linger in my own vocabulary when I try to write.
While it is true that you cannot bring about transformation by using blank expressions or hyped-up buzzwords that portray unfairness, ignorance and baseless conjecture, there is a limit to what is morally and personally allowed. It’s fair to say, so, that I have never been so amazed and shocked by any politician in such a short time frame. More annoyingly, because I love psychology so much, I keep going back because I want to know more about Trump’s state of mind.
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