Bella Joffre's Open Salon Blog

My Struggle with Hashimoto's and FVL* (story #2)

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 16:07:20 -0400

*an ongoing struggle ---and a series of stories

A Story of Personal

"Phar Laps"

I don't know very much about horses, except that I have always thought that they are very mysterious and beautiful. My dear friend Allie loves horses. This past week, when I went to the doctor and found out that I had a clot in my leg, attributable to the Factor V Leiden blood disorder/gene mutation that I carry, I cried for myself. Another clot. The third one in three years. It isn't unlike Allie to put me on a journey of the soul... and this is just what she did. Two nights ago. I had a Skype conversation with her from her home in London. And she said something that changed my perspective on things entirely.

You must understand that we have been friends since college. She knows how painful these health struggles have been for me. She has a long ear and a big heart. And she knows that the chances that I will be on bloodthinners for my lifetime continue to rise with each new clot. Nevertheless, in a way very much according to her personality, right in the middle of a grave conversation, Allie made a mercurial comment about how racehorses have survived years of bloodthinners, and that I could be a racehorse too. At first, I did not welcome her assertion. (Nevermind, Allie, that the number one cause of poisoning in animals is lead and arsenic, and for years, racehorses have died at the hands of their trainers because of arsenic poisoning. But... remember... I am the serious one.) For once, I stopped to see the sun poking through the clouds.

Yes. I feel like I am in a race. Why not see myself as a racehorse? They are strong, and proud. There is no limit to their potential. This is a good metaphor. We laughed. And after we finished our macabre conversation about arsenic poisoning, coumadin, and survival, Allie mentioned that I had to see the movie Phar Lap-- if I didn't know it. I didn't. This is where I began this personal journey.

Because 99.99999% of Allie's movie suggestions are fantastic, I searched for a copy of the film, and found one. The 1983 version of this Australian film was really worth watching. Phar Lap is the true story of the legendary "Aussie Seasbiscuit" --a horse who went showing little promise of ever winning a race to being nearly unable to lose one. (Okay... I connect!!)

The movie highlights the love between his groom (Tommy Woodcock) and his great red horse, much as Seabiscuit highlighted the love of Red Pollard for his little bay. It demonstrates the the curiosity over his cause of death, as a topic that remained of high interest even some 75 years afterward. Incidentally, many tests were done on the hair and tissue of Phar Lap, but researchers were unable to separate the chemicals used in preserving his hide and heart vs. those that actually killed him, and they were never able to prove the arsenic poisoning-- until recently. It wasn't until 2008 (using only six of his hairs), that scientists were able to prove that 30-40 hours before his death, he had ingested a massive dose of arsenic. The poisoning was sad. But, what a horse! What a story of survival and endurance! What a story to learn from!

Last Thursday, I was supposed to go to a college reunion in Washington D.C. Allie should have been part of that reunion, too. The fact that she now lives in London makes it a bit hard for her to pop on a plane and attend a reunion. So, she understandably couldn't attend. But plans were in the works a few weeks ahead, and I was able to go. As I indicated in my last post, I began feeling unwell right before I was about to go... the Hashimoto's was in swing, swollen legs and feet, pain in the legs, the fatigue. Everything worsened. I called the doctor. He ordered tests. Then... no discussions over the phone, just in person. I knew I was in a bad place. Before I could even meet with the doctor, the nurse with whom I spoke advised NO CAR TRAVEL right now. Washington D.C. is a three-four hour car ride from my home. I wouldn't be able to make it. I began sending my apologies to my friends---- "I am so sorry that I will not make it this year. I know that you understand, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel very down about it." Why did this have to happen NOW?

Like Seabiscuit or Phar Lap -------out of the race.

Man, I missed it. Of all the things about being sick, this is the worst part. Missing out. Not being able to participate. It is hell.

Missing that reunion was awful, but it put so many things in perspective, as well. I missed seeing Ted and his wife and baby boy. I heard that they are a darling family. I missed seeing Lynne and her new husband Paul, and Richard and his fiance. I missed driving down to D.C. with Noah and Tim, and it had been years since I had seen Wil-- and he was expected to be there with his new gal. Most of all, I missed seeing the Mighty Jo (my prof) and her hair-raising redesigned hairspace. Short hair! Wow! Cutting the hair was BIG for her. I heard it looks tres-chic! And I bet the discussions at the table that night were full of energy. I missed the chance to be there, being me.

But you don't race with a clot. After the nurse called and told me that the doctor wanted to see me in person, it began a flurry of activity relating to doctors and radiology appointments, transferring medical records, keeping one doctor at pace with the other, researching what doctors didn't completely explain to me, worrying, waiting, and wanting, writing emails and making phone calls to friends about missing the reunion, and coping with pain and managing medication. Finally, there was and is the dreaded "d" word: DISABILITY. I am looking into SSDI-- again. Ugh. This feels like a horror. It has been granted to me before on a temporary basis, and now -- I must reapply and go through the dreaded reapproval process. Waiting again. Waiting in lonely rooms has become my race today-- a race of patience. I realized this when I began to have chest tightness, dry coughing, and shortness of breath... I could explain this as someone who used to be familiar with a quick run around a track. I told my doctor, of course. And the next day, I was in for an echocardiogram. Pray not pericarditis, with all of the fluid buildup in my legs. Thank G-d, not.

When I got into the car after the echocardiogram, I breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing wrong with my heart! If there was something wrong, they would have kept me in the room for "bad news"... the room with the telephones ... where they ring especially for you, only you don't want to pick up the receiver, because you feel like you have been taken aside like the bad child, to be punished for something you never ever did. I didn't have to do it. OHHHH! The Superone above... gave me another chance. I would drive away, and I would get another chance. And I would get back into the traffic, like a horse on its highway in its race, only this time, keenly aware of the prize. Horses seem to be in a contest of their own, against a time that is apart from human time, against an opponent we cannot see -- because the opponent is not along side them. It is within them. I've lost sight of that. I've lost sight that the race is only about me, and it is one of patience and deep personal investigation. I make very deep connections with Seabiscuit and Phar Lap. What I am learning is that this race is a race with all of my demons and dreams.

It is a race with myself. And the prize is only about my life. No one else's.

Thank you, Allie-- for this, and for years of carving incredible new personal insights for me.

Seabiscuit (2003) Movie Trailer

During the Depression, a former bicycle repairman, Charles Howard (Jeff Bridges), owned a small, knobbly-kneed horse called Seabiscuit. Howard teamed up with half-blind ex-prize-fighter Red Pollard (Tobey Maguire), who became the horse's jockey, and former "mustang breaker" Tom Smith (Chris Cooper), who became the horse's trainer. People around the country became fascinated with the story of Seabiscuit, who won Horse of the Year honors in 1938.

film summary from netflix.com

Clips from Phar Lap (1983) (Australian)*

*now available in a new 2 disc DVD with extra footage

After launching his career as a dubious contender with no pedigree, Australian racehorse Phar Lap stunned the world as he began winning. But when scores of professional gamblers started betting on his long-shot reputation -- and he faltered -- they lost hundreds of thousands of dollars. The thoroughbred's subsequent death after winning a key race sparked debate about whether foul play was involved and whether gambling interests were to blame.

film summary from netflix.com

My Struggle With Hashimoto's and FVL* (story #1)

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 09:07:23 -0400

I haven't posted in a while, because I have been struggling with debilitating fatigue. This fatigue is all too common and familiar in my life. It is the result of a lifelong struggle with depression, and what I found out to be (several years ago) -- a struggle with Hashimoto's Disease. Hashimoto's Disease happens to be the number one cause of hypothyroidism in the United States, and one of the first autoimmune diseases that has been widely studied by researchers. But for some reason, when I tell most people what I have they look at me strangely and laugh. I think it is just the name of the disease! The complexity of the issue seems to be that I am also extremely overweight, and a lot of people seem to believe that people who are overweight should just join a gym, or go on a diet and exercise some more and stop complaining. As if it were that simple, or that those of us who are in this situation hadn't tried those things before.

It isn't that simple. My body has been working against my mind's attempts over this matter for years, and anyone who knows anything about psychology might know something about the concept of learned helplessness. This is what I feel has happened to me over the years. And on many days, like today, I don't feel very energetic. Yesterday, I didn't feel like caring or fighting anymore. In fact, I felt unbelievably exhausted- from doing nothing. From taking my fat, lazy bumper from the couch to the kitchen to get a healthy lunch, and then to take a long afternoon nap, and then to wake up and watch television... and start the routine again with the evening meal. yes. woooohooo. Tough day. From what I can see as I look out into my back patio, the weed in between the patio bricks fought harder for a life than I did in the last several days.

Okay, I am not giving myself credit here. It took me a long time just to get to this place.

Everyday is a fight. I take a lot of medication to keep my spirits and my energy levels up. Taking the meds is a fight. The thyroid meds are important, but I hate taking medication for depression- and I wish I could get off of them and kiss them all goodbye. Sometimes I wonder about being on all of this stuff. Health and Happiness does have a price.

I should also say that it took me nearly 4 years to get my thyroid medication levels to my own definition of perfection. There are so many doctors who REFUSE to prescribe the medication that I take for my thyroid. WHY? For reasons I do not understand. I am on a natural and NOT a synthetic thyroid hormone replacement. I take dessicated pig thyroid, called ARMOUR. Doctors all over the United States refuse to prescribe Armour because it competes with the pharm. industry's main drug- Synthroid. I will NOT go through another maddening fight with the pharmaceutical industry to have my Armour medication. I understand that they are now only making it in certain doses-- which limits availability to consumers even more.

And finally, my feet are swollen today. I think I have been sitting for too long at the computer and I need to elevate my legs. But ANYTHING that concerns my legs/feet is a HUGE concern for me. A couple of years ago, I had two clots that originated in my leg- as I mentioned in a previous post (see The Door Dwell). Because of the blood disorder that caused the clots, I had to take coumadin for a period of time exceeding a year. I still fear that every pain in my left leg is another clot in formation. Once you have that pain, the memory of it is like passing a baby through a straw. Clots turn the legs into hardened, itchy, bread dough. But scratching is not an option; it could move the clot inside. Clots are painful and extremely frightening and I NEVER want to have another clot again. I keep my legs moving constantly.

I go to the doctor tomorrow afternoon to discuss all of these things. I thought I would share all of them with you because many of you have written to me asking me to continue to share my health stories -- so that maybe they can help someone. Maybe they can. I HOPE they can.

*I will keep going with this as a continuous story, and I will number the posts.

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

All Rights Reserved

Old Coffee Spoons

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 20:07:59 -0400

This morning, I went shopping for a new external hard drive for my business. It is amazing how I now have run out of space on a hard drive that I once considered to be the master of space---- a year ago. What do I say when I look at my old hard drive? "Clunker." "Junk." "Busted." "Time to go." This is because I am just as much a part of today's "buy and bye" culture as our kids. As a teacher, it would be an embarrasment --and my professional suicide, not to keep up with them. So I have been keeping up (or at least I think I have!) with the latest technology: scanners, Photoshopping (notice the capital P here), and of course, blogging. I am also always working on building presentations for my students, because this is how my digital natives learn best. Paper and pencil were ripped and broken, respectively, in the 1980s. The only time they are used today is for testing.

I remember a time when my parents used to keep every old electronic thing-- just in case the parts became useful for something new. Today, people toss things away like used coffee spoons. (Important to mention, my mother has a hard time even throwing away plastic spoons. She puts them in the dishwasher, and reuses them.)

I felt alone and unsure of what I was going to find when I walked into the local hip-tech amusement store- what I call the Worst Buy mega-electronics-store. I found the correct aisle, and as I was examining the external hard drives for my needs, I noticed that many of them had increased quite a bit in memory capacity since I last purchased one. I felt a sense of awe and excitement come over me! "Back with the program again!" I thought. I can do anything with more memory! These hard drives were 320GB, and 500GB. Wow! More than anyone would ever need! I grabbed the 500GB for around $100. I even thought that was a fantastic price for such a bundle of memory.

Then, a teenage boy with one of the storeblue vests seemed to turn, look, and run my way. All smiles. Oh dear!

He shouted over at me, "You know, I wouldn't spend my money on that. For the same money you could have one tera, and you could be having so much more FUN!"

I thought, "What a smart ass." "How does he know I am into that?" I thought that "OneTera" sounded like the name of yet another GAME.

I replied, "I am not really into gaming."

In retrospect, for just that moment, all of my personal rules went out the window. I was the presumptuous smart ass. I left the store, and decided to hold off until tomorrow on buying the hard drive. I felt a sense of satisfaction that I didn't buy the hard drive before actually researching its reliability and reviews. "MORE points for me," I thought at the time. But, it was at this time that my thinking took a turn. I wasn't happy with how I responded to that kid. I wondered what "onetera" was, and my curiosity was eating away at me. I had serious doubts now, that this "tera" thing was a game.

I got in the car, and the rain kept on coming down. The weathergal was predicting flashbulbs in the sky all afternoon.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

I got back to my little comfort zone at the computer and dried my clothes and hair. The fact that I got so wet should have been a sure sign that I was a fool.

In a matter of teraseconds (which in real time I have since learned is appoximately 17 minutes), I managed to research the word "tera" at my computer, and found not only its definition, but its WORLD. I was convinced that someone decided to open this new age and not tell the dinosaurs of the giga era. The young little shaver at Worst Buy had thrown more than laughter in my face-- as I had known at the time. He had kept me from my own extinction.

Knowledge is the differential. I found out that a "terabyte" (for those who do not know-- like me) is 1,024GB. That is an amazing amount of memory! We have pushed into new territory. For those who think in terms of money, imagine: moving from a MEGA millions jackpot to a GIGA millions jackpot! THEN.... just when you thought you couldn't imagine any more money... along comes TERAmillions.

I say... "Who needs all of this?"

I feel like an old coffee spoon today. Please save me and run me through the dishwasher.

Eastern Standard Time: OLD FASHIONED Analog CLOCK

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

Growing Up in the Seventh House

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 10:06:02 -0400

I don't have to tell you that Sunday is Father's Day. I feel terrifically uncomfortable on Father's Day. I am already fearing the stomach pains and the headache. For me, this day is filled with so many expectations, and so many expectations unfulfilled. I am sure it is the same way for him.

My relationship with my father used to be wonderful, until 1997. That was the year when everything fell apart. I love my father, but it has taken me years to forgive him for leaving the family. I am the only child, a product of that marriage, so it makes it even more difficult that he left my mother after 29 years after much indecision and pain in 2000, because it felt as though he was leaving me as well. I am and always have been extremely close to my mother. We could see things coming down the road for four LONG years, and during that time, we all tried very hard to hold it together. His idealism was ultimately a lot more important to him than being with my mother or with me. Now, bear with me here. I have a theory on my dad. And it has to do with astrology. Yep. It has to do with those stars, and planets, and their alignment with each other and all that. Dad doesn't believe much in astrology. Asking dad what his sign is would likely yield a reaction like, "Isn't that birth profiling?" I wouldn't be writing about this if I didn't see some strange connection in how one-twelfth of the world happened to fall into some sort of a profile, but, um... for him (profiling or not) it happens to be true. I don't know how. It just is. One of those things in life that I can't explain. And I grew up in the Seventh House. It was always the Seventh House at my house. That was even the number of our house, ironically!

For those who are astrologically challenged, the Seventh House is the House of Aquarius. My father is an Aquarius. Oh yes, he sure is an Aquarius! He meets all of the Aquarian characteristics-- although I have met many Aquarians who do not leave their families in favor of their dreams. (In fact, many are able to live their dreams with their families.) Extreme idealism is his trademark. He is a dream weaver. A hard worker. A brilliant man. He thinks for society, when society cannot think for itself. Dad is an erratic genius. He has always had a deep desire for knowledge. He is clever and skillful and incredibly inventive. His skill with any number of things can solve the most difficult problems with ease, but he does have an annoying habit of leaving his projects. Like a lot of dads, he is good at making business decisions, he isn't very competent at making or helping to make personal ones, and he lacks in the common sense department.

The New Age phenomenon is seen by some astrologers as marked by the conjunction of the planet Uranus, ruler of the sign Aquarius, and the coming age, with Pluto, ruler of the masses-- some say, bringing radical change in the 1960s. Dad is definitely a product of the 1960s, and was proud of marching on Washington, participating in protests and sit-ins, and loved the occasional act of vulgarity for the sake of peace. But did the Age of Aquarius start in the 60's? For other Hair fans out there (besides me), I am sorry to say, no. Technically, because of a particular movement of the Earth's pole, the Sun crosses the Equator at a slightly different point every year. With the passing years, this point shifts from one degree approximately every 72 years and shifts signs approximately every 2,156 years. Therefore, every 2,156 years, a new age begins. According to astrologers, we are currently in the Age of Pisces, while being influenced by the Age of Aquarius. And it should be pointed out, that an age's influence is strongly felt around 500 to 800 years before the exact juxtaposition of the signs and constellations. This would put the Age of Aquarius at an unofficial start time of around the French Revolution. No coincidence that these two ages invite us to broaden our souls by showing love towards our fellow human beings and by taking the available scientific and technological means to improve our well-being and comfort. We are already in a society based upon knowledge, information and communication. Some say that soon, we will come to know real universal fraternity. I am a Generation Xer, born into the digital revolution but not a digital native. In the Seventh House, dad had me on the computer all the time. He was [and I should mention he still is] obsessed with the idea that everything will soon be digitized and we should just "throw out ALL the paper"! "Burn it!" I would have to say that this has been one of his shining examples of lack of common sense.

Oh, and if only people were important to my father. Helping out at the polls, soup kitchens, being an advocate for the disabled and the indigent, camping, and networking with his worldwide philatelic contacts were all activities that were more important than his family. Did you misunderstand? Dad loves people! But I am not certain he can stand being one on one with actual people for too very long. He left and moved to the mountains to live a solitary existence for quite a few years. Now, he finally lives a more social life in a large metropolitan area. Clearly, my father has the ability to take some things to extremes. Certainly, the influence of the Age of Pisces has invited the world to show love, goodness, mercy, compassion and generosity towards our fellow human beings. The influence of the Age of Aquarius has invited nations to show altruism and favor scientific, systematic or technological solutions. And my father loves altruism. Let me add that if he can find a technological way to solve a problem, and not have to have face to face communication with someone, he will do it. My father so heroically becomes associated with the virtues of the Age of Aquarius- the nonconformity, philanthropy, and the veracity. Unfortunately, like a lot of the other one-twelfth of his world comrades, he is out of his element when it comes to interpersonal communication. A bit like a cat in a bathtub. Very ready to run.

I can only hope to be as much of a dreamer as my dad, and my mom says that I do have my father's dreams, and my father's ambition. But as my mother says, "Thank God, not his common sense." Wanting things more as they ought to be - rather than as they are - presents problems. Thank God I have enough common sense to know this, I guess. It was my father who introduced me to books. I lived in my father's library when I was a child, spending hours doing my homework on the floor next to his desk while he was on the computer typing and typing what seemed to me like something that didn't matter-- but that carved an enormous section of his briefcase the following morning. It was with my father that I first began to ask myself what was truly real and good in the world, and to surmise what part of what he believed I would take on as my own concern. As it turned out, I took most of it. The Seventh House was spiritually appealing, and my father, as a man of the 60's, who had undergone great transformations of thought, had come out of it with a new definition of democracy, freedom, and humanitarianism that had not existed in ages before him. His music and his religion spoke to one another. Dad has always been a mythological package that I have been sold on.

These past couple of years, I have learned some important things about the man, the father. What I didn't understand was that although the Seventh House house was alluring, this personal expansion, progress, and inspiration was all designed to form partnerships-- NOT to purely engage the self. All of those years, I really believe that dad had been purely engaging himself, and not forming the types of partnerships that involve mutual respect. At one time, I thought he had, but it takes a mature adult child to reflect on her father's frailties. Dad always held a great deal of pride in his "fair mindedness." I do think that he is open minded, and he can provide perspective for others on a wide variety of issues, but a keen observer would see that dad is only fair to the people that he is not looking down upon. He is just good at oppressing those voices. He is strong willed and not easy to anger; nevertheless, he can have a spiteful tongue if someone betrays him. Unfortunately, this has not given my father the best reputation as a loyal, warm, and encouraging advocate. Someone will always betray him, and someone always has. And after dad is through, they are the ones who walk away feeling puzzled, angry, and guilty. Today, my father has a difficult time figuring out why it is that other people do not see him for the mere mortal that he is, and why it is that he cannot achieve the expectations everyone has of him. If only he could see that he has set and maintained his place in the Guinness Book of Great Men (if ever there was or would be one). It is very hard to argue with a man's image of himself, once he believes the image has become the man.

It did not matter that I was an extremely sensitive child, prone to insecurity, or that my mother had the vibrancy, posture, social magnetism, self-confidence, and savviness of a high socialite. My father was all about his own needs and desires. And those needs and desires were all about embracing new concepts, ideals, and theories about how to make the WORLD a better and happier place. Forget the people closest to him. But here, one more Father's Day away from those dark years that our family experienced, I am trying to see my father for who he is. We rarely speak on the phone, and emails contain very impersonal accounts of our days. But this is okay. This is the progress we have made. Dad is [presumably] well, and I am at a good stage of my life to stop blaming him for so much of what he has done, and begin forgiving him. Every Father's Day gives me another opportunity to just celebrate where we are. So, over the years, I have really considered who my father is. It has not been easy NOT to demand the reciprocity that I want. However, I have made a conscious decision to "volunteer" to love my dad, or risk not having a relationship with him at all. And what is even more important, I have realized that accepting my dad for who he is may have to take place before he can accept me for who I am. This might be the best time of all to put in place that idealism that I keep as his inheritance from the Seventh House.

________________________

"The New Age movement is more accurately a phenomenon and yet seen by many as the harbinger of this future changeover of values associated with the arrival or imminent arrival of the Age of Aquarius.The 1967 musical Hair, with its opening song 'Aquarius' and the memorable line 'This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius,' brought the Aquarian Age concept to the attention of audiences worldwide."

Credit to Wikipedia and astrosoftware for the astrology research in this article.

Dad, this song is for you. I love you. Happy Father's Day.

*Except for what is credited to other sources, the contents of this post are the sole copyright of the author, and cannot be reprinted in any form without the express permission of Bella Joffre.
Here is the Fifth Dimension performing the infamous song, "Aquarius":

Is it all a lie, or a big illusion, Mr. Nietzsche?

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 10:06:18 -0400

I think most people have heard the adage
"The past is history.
The future is a mystery.
The only time we really have is now - just this moment."

How about this one?
"Many people are so concerned with adding days to their life that they forget to add life to their days."

The other day, I was doing more than a little light reading. My usual way, really. My friends describe me as very "cerebral." This description has always made me feel a bit like an egghead. But, oh well! I read what I enjoy. It just happens to be ...stuff like... the great philosphers, mythology and religion, world literature... for good goodness sake, I am a literature teacher! I read things that really sink into my soul.

I was reading Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None, by Friedrich Nietzsche. Nietzsche, of course, believes that religion is a comforting, but limiting self-delusion. His attitude is a bit imperious for my taste. I am not a Christian, so perhaps, this is why I find his writings easier to swallow than most, with some objectivity. I do like Nietzsche for his passion and consistency, and Thus Spake Zarathustra happens to be Nietzsche's lifetime seminal work--besides being his most personal. It is easy to see why. I came to section 47, part 2 of the book, and I read about the vision and the enigma of time. In this section, I could explicate the meaning of the book, not just in terms of the theme of the entire work, but in terms of the context of Neitzsche's overall philosophy. When I arrived at the crux of the matter between Zarathustra and the dwarf, two characters who had been for some time debating the essence of truth (much as happens in Plato's "Allegory of the Cave"), it read, "Look at this gateway! Dwarf!...it hath two faces. Two roads come together here: these hath no one yet gone to the end of. This long lane backwards: it continueth for an eternity. And that long lane forward--that is another eternity. They are antithetical to one another, these roads; they directly abut on one another:--and it is here, at this gateway, that they come together. The name of the gateway is inscribed above: 'This Moment.'"

Zarathustra is a man with a mission at the age of thirty to retreat into the wilderness and find the essence of truth by struggling free of the chains of illusion. I feel a bit like Zarathustra. And at this moment in this story, I come to an "aha." This is the reason that I connect with this character. The eternity behind and the eternity ahead may always have been there, but I have never seen them coming to any sort of crossroads in this moment. This is a shift in thinking for me. I do have a lot of trouble living in the moment. I am always living in the past or the future, but why?
If this is my core preoccupation, surely I should understand it. I have certainly found myself in the moment, thinking about what I did yesterday and what I need to do tomorrow. I am surely spending most of the time in my life distracted. Distracted from the moment, and not immersed in an experience. And has it not been proven that mindfulness reduces stress, boosts immune functioning, reduces chronic pain, lowers blood pressure, and helps people cope with problems? Goodness. I should do it. I need to tackle this problem.

Shit. I am thinking of the future again.

Bella Joffre's Open Salon Blog

My Struggle with Hashimoto's and FVL* (story #2)

A Story of Personal

"Phar Laps"

*now available in a new 2 disc DVD with extra footage

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

All Rights Reserved

My Struggle With Hashimoto's and FVL* (story #1)

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

All Rights Reserved

Old Coffee Spoons

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

All Rights Reserved

Growing Up in the Seventh House

I don't have to tell you that Sunday is Father's Day. I feel terrifically uncomfortable on Father's Day. I am already fearing the stomach pains and the headache. For me, this day is filled with so many expectations, and so many expectations unfulfilled. I am sure it is the same way for him.

Is it all a lie, or a big illusion, Mr. Nietzsche?

©2009 BLOG POST by Bella Joffre

All Rights Reserved