After discussing before bed how I was pretty sure that we were becoming the Miracle Max and Valerie of the blogosphere, with him shouting getting back witch and me shouting I’m not a witch I’m your wife and I’m not even sure I want to be that anymore and what about true love! Jow asked me, what have I done personally magically about the fibromyalgia. It was that lovely time of night where I had watched a satisfactory amount of Judge Judy, malas had been said, and pills had been taken rendering me more dreamily contemplative than ornery and we were lying in bed in the dark where all truth is born.
Reiki, I said finally. And that’s all. I don’t know why I never did more than that. But . . .I haven’t.
Do you think it’s because of shamanism?
Maybe? I was always to understand that having this nebulous condition meant that you were special, that you were chosen. I mean, other things too. But to my mind it’s like I can think that god turned his back on me or I can think that this makes me more magically delicious. It’s a lot easier living with b. than a.
Some gift though. No, really you shouldn’t have!
I know right? Okay thanks for my -1 difficulty on all my magical dice rolls, but the +2 difficulty to daily life leaves something to be desired.
But before I went to sleep, I wondered what I always wonder when it comes to my fibromyalgia, I am who I am who I am who am I/ Requesting some enlightenment/ Could I have been anyone other than me? More specifically, who am I without my pain? Where is my power? Where is my sacrifice?
I don’t know. I went to the ocean in my head and laid there until I fell asleep.