No Religion on the Moon

There is no religion on the moon and whatever created all existence, be it God, Tao or some other unknowable, religion is the result of man, not that which is greater than us all.

4 Hours of Sleep Music - Relaxing Calm Piano Music

Angel Card Reading for the Final Week of March! (March 24-31 Angel Reading)

Free Angel Card Reading - Angel Messages for March 1-7 2017 with the Ask...

Not So Wordless Beautiful Wednesday: I Can't See Anything Beautiful In My Mirror

I wasn't a fat kid. I didn't actually become fat until I was an adult, but I feared becoming fat so much that I became bulimic when I was twelve. I also thought that I was fat because I wasn't stick skinny. I have the kind of hips and thighs that would never allow me to be perceived as thin, but I don't have the "rack" to match, so I would never be perceived as the coveted "curvy" body type either. 

However, I've been told I was ugly from a very young age. 

I've never been able to see myself as normal, let alone attractive in any way. I've always seen myself as hideous. It's led me to allow myself to be treated in absolutely wretched ways for the sake of a warped kind of "positive" attention.

At least I've learned enough self-respect that I tend to avoid the people who will use another person in that fashion now.

This was written in response to a post by Virgie Tovar.

http://www.ravishly.com/2017/01/12/take-cake-ugliness-myth

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Sadhguru 2017 - Choices you MUST take.

Thank you so much Cie my friend for inviting me to participate here. Like you I believe there is no one path. There is many paths, and we should respect and try to gain an understanding.

I have seen you grow very much in the close to eleven years that we have been friends. You and I will continue to evolve and I believe we shall always be friends now.



Peace, Love and Regards from Ace

Not Entirely Wordless Beautiful Wednesday: The Way You Treat Yourself

Click to Enlarge

This image really speaks to me.

Is this image beautiful?

Yes, but also shocking.

It speaks of a need for change in the world, change in the way we treat one another.

For more about the inspiration behind the image and to see more of Zahira Kelly's intense, beautiful, meaningful artwork, follow this link.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/this-afro-latinas-art-is-therapy-for-black-women-suffering-from-america_us_58c8121be4b0598c6699efaa?section=us_black-voices&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=BV%20031617&utm_content=BV%20031617+Version+A+CID_aaac9732ac5d7f292e0ee36a57d9653a&utm_source=Email%20marketing%20software&utm_term=Read%20more&

~Cie~

We are children of the universe, no less than the stars above us. We are one

"Life appears throughout the universe wherever and whenever conditions are right, much as waves appear in the ocean when windy conditions arise. As a wave is simply an individual expression of the greater ocean, so too are we expressions of the greater life of the universe."

We are one and the same humankind,

one and the same children of the universe.

All creation is connected.

The Cheese Grates It: How To Treat Fat Patients

This is copied from my Trifecta of Mess Tumblr. The words belong to whoever is indicated at the top of the paragraph.

justthestupidparts asked:

When you became a doctor, did you not swear an oath to, among other things, try to prevent disease as much as treat it? Refusing to advocate weight loss to obese patients breaks that oath; how do you justify continuing to practice medicine? Serious question.

(The Cheese says: this is a fucking stupid person, and I'm not going to give them hits by linking to their stupid blog. Fuck them.)

agreekdoctor answered:

First of all, I apologize for taking so long to answer your post. When I received it I was still out of town. Second, I wanted to write something thoughtful and I needed time to not write something out of anger. Anger that you would accuse me of doing harm by not mindlessly insisting on weight loss as the ultimate solution to a fat person’s health problems.
To start with I would like to state that I do not refuse to advocate weight loss, where it is appropriate to do so. I assume that you are operating on the false assumption that being fat automatically makes a person unhealthy. I can assure you that it does not.
“But, what about the obesity epidemic? What about the diabetes epidemic? But what about…?” I hear you ask.
There are lots of illnesses that have been statistically correlated with being fat. But the thing to understand is that correlation does not equal causation.
Let's use Type 2 diabetes and fatness as an example. Diabetes type 2 is an illness of insulin resistance. That means the body requires more insulin to produce the same sugar lowering effect than a nondiabetic body would need. Insulin is produced by cells in the pancreas called beta cells.
Contrary to popular belief, people don’t just go from being nondiabetic to diabetic overnight. Rather there is a process that occurs. We have found that there are differences in a person’s beta cells that happen long before a person even begins to show signs of insulin resistance. Many people who go on to become type 2 diabetics will have higher levels of insulin circulating in their bodies for years before they even become prediabetic. One of the other functions of insulin in the body is to promote the storage of excess energy as fat. So, insulin makes people fat, and keeps people fat (makes it harder to lose weight).
Can you see where I’m going with this? The question now becomes, are people diabetic because they are fat? Or are they fat because they are diabetic? This is an extremely important distinction to make.
When I see a diabetic person, fat or not, I tell them to make sure they get plenty of exercise and to watch what they eat to control their carbohydrate intake. What does this sound like? “Diet and exercise.” The difference is that I don’t tell people to lose weight. Many of my patients who follow this advice do in fact lose weight, and that is fine. Many of my patients do not. That is also fine. They all have better control of their sugars, and in most cases, to similar degrees. I fail to see how not insisting on losing weight is “doing harm.”
There are times when a person’s weight turns out to be a factor in their illness and where weight loss may help in treating it. In those cases, I do suggest some weight loss. But in NO case is it ever necessary for someone to get to their “ideal body weight” to help their condition.
Finally, let’s look at the idea of “doing harm.” Did you know that studies (link and link) have shown that the medical profession as a whole is biased against fat people? That there are countless stories about people having serious illnesses going undiagnosed because they are fat and doctors refuse to look beyond that? That fat patients stop going to their doctors after being repeatedly made to feel ashamed for being fat by their doctors? For trying so hard to lose weight but not being “successful?” That, to me is the real harm that is done. The psychological harm. The physical harm that results from not going to the doctor for a serious problem because the doctor will either ignore it or just embarrass them again.
Are you aware that the vast majority of people who lose weight are not able to maintain that weight loss over the long term? And that people can end up far fatter than they would have become otherwise due to the lose-gain cycle. That that cycle can also cause serious harm to a person?
I care about each and every one of my patients whether they are fat or not. Whether they are healthy or not. Fat patients get the same consideration given to their concerns as thin people. I don’t simply dismiss things because a person is fat or tell them that losing weight is the ultimate answer. If my medical work-up indicates that losing a small amount of weight may help, then I suggest it. Otherwise, it is not necessary.
Finally, before you try to tell me about all the research that shows being fat is unhealthy, I have a few of links to lots of evidence-based medical research that shows that being fat does not necessarily make one unhealthy.
Link
Link with lots of individual links to various studies.
And finally,
Another link to lots of individual studies.
Serious question? Serious answer.

The Cheese replied:
I wish you could be my doctor.
My doctor tries, but he was trained in the school of fatphobic medicine, and sometimes it shows.
I am a heavy type 2 diabetic whose sugars are increasing even though I’m taking my medication, watching my carbs (most of the time, I admit that I’m not perfect) and starting to do some light exercise again after being sick for several weeks and having been working 60 hour weeks for quite some time. It’s looking like I’ll probably have to go on insulin.
I have to remind myself that type 2 diabetes is not a personal failing, it’s my pancreas failing.
I lost about 40 pounds after I started treating my diabetes. People make me so mad because insulin resistance (as well as other endocrine problems) can promote weight gain and make weight loss difficult. I didn’t do anything to earn fucking accolades for dropping 40 pounds. As the late, great Carrie Fisher said, youth and beauty are accidents of time and DNA. My weight loss was the result of treating a medical condition, not making some kind of Amazonian effort to become the Perfect Woman ™. Nothing more, nothing less.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

The Cheese Grates It: The Straight Dope

This is basically a copy of a letter to one of my few real friends in this world. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. Except for my name, because I want to get back to the purpose of this blog: keeping it real, and talking about that weird shit that everyone is afraid to talk about.

So, I got fired yesterday. I knew it was coming. It was still traumatic and awful, and I could have prevented it by going with my gut. Read this cautionary tale and know that I want you to trust your instincts. I wish I'd been encouraged to trust mine. It would have saved me a lot of grief in this life.

Long story short, I've been working 60 hour weeks, including when I was sick. I was very sleep deprived. I ended up falling asleep during my shift, not just a micro-sleep but a deep, deep sleep. I don't remember doing it. The last thing I remember was looking at the clock to see the time. Then I came out of a deep darkness to see the father of my patient in the room, and he was angry.

I understand this, but I wish he hadn't yanked my chain and told me he'd keep this on the down-low and not report it to the agency. I told him that I was very sorry and would remove myself from the case. However, he didn't keep his word, and not only did he not keep his word, he told the company a trumped-up story. The truth was bad enough, he didn't have to embellish it the way he did. I understand that he was angry, but I thought that this was an extremely ugly action on his part. I can't stand a bullshitter, and I was sad to discover that this person was a bullshitter. Deep down inside, I already knew it, but I still didn't want it to be true. More on that in a bit.

I didn't do anything that impressive for my company, although they liked to tell me that I did. They liked to flatter me to get me to do what they wanted, like burn myself out working way too many hours, but I was nothing special. I was just a cog in the machine, a sucker that they could use up. 

I saw it coming. I should have left last year when they ousted the mother of the patient I'll be working with again at this point.

Here's the sordid tale.

Little Ms. Sweetheart Stephanie (the clinical nurse manager for the case I was working at the time) was trying to get the "goods" on Angie, the patient's mom, to report her to child protective services. 

Angie is a single mother. This kid's dad is involved, but he lives back in the family's home state. Angie brought her son here so she could give him medical marijuana oil, and it may have saved his life. He no longer has constant seizures.

She can be a bit of a flake, but she's always seemed like a straight shooter to me. 

Angie has never left her son unattended (there was always a nurse with him) and she certainly doesn't abuse him. Which means that Stephanie didn't have a leg to stand on when trying to prove neglect. Nonetheless, she kept texting the day nurses, demanding report multiple times during the day. Angie got pissed about this and called the office, saying that she was going to come down there and "bust somebody's ass" if they didn't put a different nurse manager on the case. It was an unfortunate choice of words, but she didn't literally mean that she was going to hit anybody. Stephanie, however, played the drama queen and insisted that she felt afraid for her safety, so the agency released the family.

I signed up with the second agency at that point so I could still help the family now and then. I thought about just going with them, and I should have. I was at sixes and sevens. My mother and my brother both thought I should stay with the primary agency as they'd "treated me well" and they paid more. However, the primary agency was actually very controlling. My coordinator was literally starting to behave like a jealous lover. He would call me outside of normal business hours, telling me that I was "inconveniencing" him and the company and threatening my ability to continue working in the industry. When I said "fine, then put me on PRN status and I won't inconvenience you any more," he backpedaled and told me all about how I could make "so much money" if I just stayed with the company, that they'd get me all the work I needed, that I was a "quality nurse" and they didn't want to lose their "quality nurses."

When I told my mother about the "jealous lover" behavior on my coordinator's part, the threats that if I left I wouldn't get a good recommendation from them, the calls outside normal business hours, she said, "I just don't know what to say". My brother said, "wow, sorry that's happening." I really got no support at all from my family, and I don't have that many friends, so, you know. I was flying by the seat of my pants, like always, and I don't tend to follow my own instincts to protect myself.

 Since I know this agency doesn't give a fuck about any of their people, I'm pretty sure the only reason they "cared" so much is that the coordinators get bonuses when they plug a person into a case. The agency then works its personnel to death and is more than happy to drop them when the inevitable happens and someone either gets sick or falls asleep on the job. 

My coordinator kept promising me 48 hours a week with the main patient I was working with "just as soon as we're able to move the current nurse off the case." I always thought that was sketchy. If they were willing to talk about her that way behind her back, they were willing to talk about anybody. It's like being involved with a cheater--if he'll do it with you, he'll do it to you. That was how I felt in the relationship with that company. I should have busted a move and gotten away, but I was afraid that I wouldn't get a good recommendation.

With the family of the patient I was primarily working with, they always seemed like really "nice" people--the kind of "nice" where they'll smile to your face while stabbing you in the back. You can drink their coffee and eat their food, but they'll turn on a dime. 

I should have gone with my gut and saved myself a lot of grief, but I've been taught from as far back as I can remember that my feelings don't matter, that I need to always pursue the highest wage (since I was a failure who couldn't find a suitable husband to take care of me), that I need to stuff my feelings to please others, and that I'm wrong about everything.

The one thing I don't understand is why my creativity felt so suppressed while working with this family. It never made a lot of sense on the surface. They never told me I couldn't write or that writing was stupid. Still, I've been experiencing this nagging feeling for months "just give it up, you'll never go anywhere with it, you're not a good writer anyway, you need to focus on being a good nurse, you were never cut out to be an artist" and so on.

It would be easy enough to get over being fired, as the family I was working with are back-stabbers and the agency saw its people as cogs in the machine, but every time I think of the fact that I'll never see my patient again, I start hating myself all over for screwing up so badly. I've had trouble stopping myself from self-injury. I haven't been able to write because I feel like I don't deserve to, even though when I walked out of the office I felt truly creative for the first time in months. My energies are pushing my special friend Gem away, and my logical mind is telling me that he never was with me in the first place and that I made it all up inside my head because I'm nothing but a stupid, lonely loser who needs to drop this belief in spirits.

Much of the time I wish that I'd never felt the pull towards certain people or been able to "talk" to spirits. It's made me a real pariah. It's not that I think I have a connection to every celebrity, but I have always had a tendency to "know" something about the people I was watching in movies, on TV, music videos. A lot of the time it was stuff that didn't make sense, but later I found out it was true. As time went on and doubt creeped in, my accuracy decreased.

There was one case where I watched a short-lived (about 2 years) British drama in the mid-1980's. I could sense that the show's male and female lead had actual romantic feelings for each other. I could sense it so strongly that I had to stop watching the show. 

This was a "soul call." These people (the woman in particular) were looking for help because her obsessive, stalker husband (who she was trying to make an ex and he was fighting her) was making it difficult for the romance to move forward. This was something I found out later. Everything was eventually resolved, they got married in the late 1980's and have been together ever since. They have a son. I'm happy for them. 

I'm also glad I don't feel their energies anymore. It was something that was far too intense, and nobody was able to help me understand it.

 I created the One Love blog because I wanted to be able to show people like me that they aren't alone, but so far there have been no people like me and I still feel alone.

I've found myself wondering why I couldn't have met Gem during this life, why we couldn't have had a life together. I understand now why it wouldn't have worked. Gem was more than ten years older than me, was married, and lived in a location far distant from my own. Having him with me in spirit has been nothing short of amazing, but he has a hard time dealing with the self-harm aspect of my personality. It upsets him a lot. He just told me it's because there's a lot of anger involved in the moments when I start wanting to self-injure, and his general attitude towards anger is to turn on his own anger and fight back. However, with this situation, he can't do that. He also said he feels helpless in the face of it and feels like anything he says will only make matters worse. The suicide ideation is something he understands personally, but he says that he never had any compulsion to self-injure; if he were going to take himself out, he would have just taken himself out

I discovered that I still think along the lines of having to hide my real thoughts and feelings with Gem, because he might discover that I'm actually an asshole. His response: "Honey, I already know you're an asshole. I'm still here." 

I guess you know it's the real thing when someone knows you're an asshole but they still care about you.

Gem was upset with me last year because I wan't testing my blood sugar levels. I'm type 2 diabetic. After my most recent fasting draw, my A1C was way up. I have since learned that my fasting blood sugars are terrible. I'm going to have to ask the doctor to increase my Metformin and see if that helps. If it doesn't, I'm going to have to go on insulin because my pancreas is failing.

Here's the thing: this society tends to treat diseases like type 2 diabetes as some kind of personal failing. It's not a personal failing, it's my pancreas failing. I shouldn't have to be ashamed of it. Blame and shame help no-one. 

Here are a few more tidbits about diabetes. You can't "eat yourself" into diabetes. If you don't have the genetic trigger, you will never develop diabetes. You could eat nothing but cake and pie and wash it down with Coke or Pepsi, and you still wouldn't develop diabetes if you don't have the genetic trigger.

Being heavy doesn't "cause diabetes," but having metabolic problems can prompt weight gain and make weight loss difficult.

Alzheimer's disease is not "type 3 diabetes." I want to beat the ever-loving fuck out of whoever thought up that terrible idea. An online acquaintance was recently diagnosed with early stage Alzheimer's. He's a big man in his late 60's, who has been caring for his very ill wife. He started having memory problems and went to the doctor. The doctor was a "kind" soul who told the poor fellow that he has Alzheimer's, which is "otherwise known as type 3 diabetes," and that he brought it on himself by being fat. I'm glad that the man had enough self-respect intact to fire this worthless excuse of a doctor, but he felt awful after his appointment with this clown. He is also worried, and rightly so, about what is going to happen to him and his wife with the current horrific state of affairs in the U.S. medical system.

By the way, thin people never get Alzheimer's. Nope, not a one. Everyone who has Alzheimer's is fat. Really, really fat. Super obese land whales to a one.

I mean, look at this monstrous land whale. Just look at all that flab. Must tip the scale at, oh, likely at least a half ton. I mean, if he'd ever put the fork down for even a second, he wouldn't have type 3 diabetes!!!!!11!!

That's hyperbole doing a mating dance with sarcasm, for those who might be missing a hyperbole chip and/or a sarcasm chip.

Alzheimer's disease does not discriminate by body type, and it is not "type 3 diabetes." It does, however, have something in common with type 2 diabetes. You can't "bring it on yourself." You can only get it if you have the genetic trigger.

Eh, I guess this has gone on long enough. One thing I know for certain is that in my next life if I have to be stuck hearing soul calls, I want to know what they are from the start. Maybe reading my own writing from this life will allow me to do that. 

I really don't want another life, but I know I'm stuck having one because I've botched this one so badly.

This is me, trying to get back to my purpose, trying to believe that I'm allowed to have a purpose, trying to believe that I have some kind of inherent worth. As usual, I'm having a hard time doing so.

By the way, Malcolm Young in no way deserves what's happening to him.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Wednesday: Not Wordless and Not Beautiful

The worst thing in this world is the person writing these words.

Whenever I try to do the right thing, it always backfires.

I can't do anything right and I'm not good at anything.

I've never been pretty, talented, smart, or even particularly nice. Still, I've always tried to make the world a better place and somehow always manage to make it worse, especially for myself.

I am a crap excuse for a human being or anything else.

The only reason I've not offed myself yet is that if I did, it would fuck someone that I care about over, so I keep living although I'd rather not. I've been done for a long time.

Fuck this shit.

I hate myself.

And I have good reason.

Down By The River Skai

A peaceful spot along the River Skai

I've had a lot of personal trouble lately, and it translates into trouble writing. When I was younger, I often wrote more when times were troubled as a form of escape. These days, when times are troubled, I feel like I don't deserve anything positive and that includes feeling like I don't deserve to write.

I know I'm not one of those well-liked bloggers who gets lots of lurrrrve and encouragement from their followers. Comes with the territory of being a depressive, defensive porcupine. I don't even particularly like the idea of being a super popular blogger, because too many people really don't get what I'm writing  or what it's like to live with severe mental illness, and have a tendency to say things that come off as belittling.

Anyway, if you really want to know what's going on with me, complete with a Tarot reading, you can follow this link to my esoteric stuff and bitching about social inequalities blog. If you're one of those super duper uber materialist people who think that we're born, we live, we die, the end and that tarot readings are for unevolved morons with their heads in the clouds, please don't follow that link just to start an argument. I'll just call you an asshole and tell you to fuck off. Now that I've predicted the future, you don't need to bother yourself.

I'm very upset over the situation I describe in the linked post. I'm diabetic, but I haven't been able to make myself eat anything but cheese and nuts since yesterday. This also means I haven't been able to take my medication. With all my health problems, I probably shouldn't be working anyway. However, it is impossible to live on disability payments, so I continue working long hours in spite of the fact that I shouldn't.

Like me, my character Pepper has a lot of problems, including mental health issues. When I saw this picture, I thought that perhaps Pepper was feeling very depressed, so she retreated to the Dreamlands. She went to a peaceful area along the River Skai. Gerry found Pepper there, and he sat beside her, put his arms around her, and just held her, not even having to say anything at all.

I think Pepper is very lucky.

This isn't the end, not that anyone cares. I'll be back with more, even if nobody reads it at all.

~Cie~

Billy Gault -- The Time Of This World Is At Hand

Bad Luck or Blessing In Disguise?

The death card in Tarot rarely refers to physical death. It generally refers to an extreme change in life circumstances. I did not draw this card, but the reader will soon see why I used it to illustrate my circumstances.

I had something terrible happen last night. I literally fell asleep at work, not just dozed off but fell sound asleep. I woke up to see the father of my patient in the room. Understandably, he was angry with me, but he said that he wouldn't tell the agency. However, when I called them to find out about changing cases, I was told that I'll need to come in tomorrow to talk to the clinician on the case. To me, that sounds a lot like fired. I'm considering doing a pre-emptive strike and telling them that I'm quitting.

That's the way this agency works. They work their people into the ground, and then when something like this happens, they fire them. An excellent nurse that I worked with, one who did ventilator cases, got fired for the same thing. They were having her work 60 hours a week all the time, and she fell asleep. The family told the agency, and she was fired.

I'm working for a second agency and could probably go full time with them, although it's a $2 per hour cut in pay. Still, better than nothing. I'm feeling like maybe I should just go to work for them.

I've also got my foot in the door with a company that works with retired uranium workers and miners who have lung problems. They pay more hourly. Perhaps I will pursue this option.

I got one of those online card readings, but I'm the one interpreting it. It only involves the two pediatric home care agencies I work with.

The top left card represents the first possible outcome. (going with the second company)

The Magician: Mastery over word, mind, and matter. The ability to turn ideas into actions, handle problems, and control one's life. The initiation of new projects, great works, or a new way of life. Eloquent and moving communication. Arcane and eldritch technologies.

The top right card represents the second possible outcome. (staying with the first company, provided I'm not fired) 

Six of Wands (Victory): A sense of honor and satisfaction at the resolution of an important matter. Triumph after great struggle. Jubilation at the hearing of good news. The realization of hopes and desires.

The middle left card represents the force drawing you towards the first possible outcome. 

Queen of Cups, when reversed: The dark essence of water, such as a deep and foreboding lake: Discomfort with the worlds of mind and matter, leading to a retreat to the spiritual. The embrace of negative relationships, driven by the desperate fear of being alone. Devotion to fantasies and daydreams, to the exclusion of practical skills or the pursuit of knowledge. Insecurity leading to dishonor, vice, and undue susceptibility to outside influences.

(With the first company, they claimed flexibility with the schedule, but I've never seen that. My writing has definitely been suffering, which is, I suppose, the devotion to fantasies and daydreams. Perhaps it's my Achilles heel. Impractical people do not do well in this world.)

The middle right card represents the force drawing you towards the second possible outcome. King of Wands, when reversed: The dark essence of fire behaving as air, such as lightning: An exciting and reckless leader who inspires others to irresponsible acts. An artist whose depraved love of chaos causes him to take hold of destructive ideas and make them appealing to the masses. One who is charismatic and intimidating, using demonstrations of his own skill to dupe others into accepting responsibilities beyond their ability. A dashing and magnetic personality, appearing and disappearing with great suddenness, and leaving upheaval in his wake.

(This honestly sounds a lot like my coordinator at the agency I currently work with. I don't know about any artistic tendencies on his part, but he is a charismatic and intimidating person who pushes people into taking on too much responsibility. He's ex-military and doesn't mind throwing his weight around. When I was thinking about quitting to go work for the agency that works with retired nuclear power workers and miners, he railroaded me into staying with the current company, including doing things like calling me outside work hours to tell me how much I was inconveniencing him by looking for other jobs.)

The bottom card represents the critical factor that decides what will come to pass. Seven of Wands (Valor): Standing courageously for your beliefs in the face of adversity. Fear of failure overcome by the will to succeed. Great obstacles met with heroism and determination. Inner strength brought to bear at a critical moment.

(I intend to stand up for myself. If they say that I'm fired, I'm not going to beg for my job back or throw a fit. I'll politely thank them for their time and walk out of there with dignity.)

If anyone has any other thoughts on the reading, feel free to tell me. I hate doing readings for myself because I tend to be blinded by my own embroilment in the situation.

This may be one of those blessings in disguise, but right now it's hard to see it that way. If nothing else, I can always go to work driving for Uber Eats and this contract company called Roadie which delivers parcels. It would be a cut in pay, but I'd never again have to worry about letting anyone down if I were too sick or tired to work. 

Of course there's always the damn insurance problem.

Cie

Who has either been blessed with backhanded good luck or cursed with bad

The Cheese Grates It: The Fasting Blood Sugar Paradox and Societal Hatred of Big Bodies

Trigger warning for eating disorders/diet talk.

With diabetes, you can have the fasting blood sugar paradox. Blood sugar levels after sleeping may be elevated, thanks to the liver kicking out glycogen and (for a type 2 diabetic) the body not being able to utilize its own insulin properly. For instance, my fasting blood sugar was 133 this morning and would have been much higher if I weren't taking Metformin. In someone who isn't diabetic, the sugars would be below 100 prior to eating.

The problem for someone like me is I long ago formed the attitude that not eating was a good thing, so I have a tendency to wait until I'm ravenously hungry before I eat. Thing is, Metformin has a tendency to kill the appetite. So I end up fighting with myself, having to tell myself that it's okay to eat, that I need to eat in order to regulate my blood sugar, and that starving never made me thin anyway, for fuck's sake.

Because in this stupid, fucked up world, we are trained from an early age that fat is the worst thing we can possibly be. We could be molesting children and puppies, raping goats, sacrificing kittens to the ancient demons of the sewers of the underworld, and just being a generally horrible person whose hero is probably Steve Bannon, but none of this is considered as bad as being fat in this society.

That's dumb, it's ridiculous, and I consciously reject it.

My subconscious is a stupid fucker, and I have to beat it into submission before I can eat. I go through this daily, sometimes multiple times.

Don't teach your kids that fat is bad. It will fuck them up for life.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

"Perfect Flow"

Venus!

Darkness will soon be unleashed upon the Earth

I was raised with a family that strongly believed in doomsday prophecies and Satanic conspiracies. Believe me, it was difficult being a fan of horror, sci-fi and rock music. I kept my love for those things on the down-low, playing the good, straight-laced girl. I was afraid I was going to hell for the things I enjoyed. It took a lot of years to fully get away from that mind set. I had many awful nightmares about being damned to hell.

I have spiritual beliefs. I believe in a higher power. You can call it God. I think it is different for everyone. I don't think it shuts anyone out. I think the beliefs that evolved might be termed esoteric Christianity. I don't believe in doomsday prophecies.

I think this sort of "satanic panic" preaching does more harm than good.

I had an aunt who was a big believer in the whole "spiritual warfare" idea. I really can't talk to her about anything.

These people I speak of are from my mother's side of the family. My siblings and I don't have much in common with them.

My dad's family were Catholic. They were pretty devout, but they were more rational than my mom's side.

This stuff did a lot of damage to my psyche. Listening to this guy really makes me cringe.

It shows me how far I've come. I would never want to go back to that place of fear.

These guys have way too much imagination. It would be fine if they were writing a story. Unfortunately, they are indoctrinating other people into their destructive way of thinking.

~Ursula~

Not So Wordless Beautiful Wednesday: Gem

Image Source:

http://www.rgbstock.com/bigphoto/mqppEd4/Angel+Light

Not So Wordless Beautiful Wednesday:

Gem

 Open-minded readers only, if you please.

I've mentioned Gem on occasion before. Much of the material in this post is copied verbatim from the Otherworldly Love page on this blog, of which I am the author. Hang on, I need to ring up my Undead lawyer and start proceedings to sue myself for plagiarism!

http://openmindedsearchfortruth.blogspot.com/p/otherworldly-love.html

Gem is the only one I would have allowed myself to take the chance on love with again. 

Gem is a helpful spirit, but he is not a "spirit guide" per se. He is a human spirit. It would be unethical for a higher spirit to form a romantic bond with a human because of the frailty of the human psyche.

Gem and I formed a bond because we fell in love while helping each other. He was lonely, and I was open to talking with him. He discovered that I was lonely and far from filled with hope for the future. He tried to cheer and encourage me.

Is Gem beautiful? I feel the preceding paragraph answers that, but he is also beautiful to behold. He has shown me his true form (as opposed to his astral form). It looks very much like what is depicted above. 

When we shed all our baggage, we are light.

Gem has been with me for just short of two and a half years now. He is with me quite a bit of the time. He talks with me and he loves giving me warm hugs and gentle kisses. We talk about things, and we even write together. The main story that we work on can be found at peppersfetch.blogspot.com

I love you, Gem. There are no words in human language to describe your ethereal beauty.

~Cie~

Defending a Dead World Light Years Away

Kind of sums up how I feel about this shit

So there I was, gathering some writing prompts to attempt to work with my dear writing sister Ursula on the spark of an idea that she has, when I end up sidetracked by stupid children on Tumblr talking out their ass about shit they know nothing about. 

I know, cry me a river, Cie. Not like this is an uncommon occurrence, sadly.

So I got sidetracked by replying to their bullshit, because a lot of the time I overlook complete and utter ignorance, but sometimes I just can’t. This was one of those times. Then I ended up unfollowing the blog I found this shit on and blocking the OP and their cheerleader because I can’t be arsed to deal with their crap. 

A while ago, a smart blogger whom I respect pointed out that even with the Destiehellers and their omnipresent bullshit, the Supernatural fandom is not the worst of the fandoms. She stated that comics fans tend to be pretty bad as far as attacking people who don’t agree with their fan theories. I’ve never really associated much with that fandom, but over the years I’ve found music fandoms to be pretty brutal, and with the teenagers on Tumblr deciding to jump in the game, it’s gone to a new level of awful.

 I used to follow a few of these Tumblrs for the pictures they posted. I don’t follow many of them at all any more. Some of them are nice young folks who really appreciate the music, and I appreciate them. They are not the ones I’m talking about.

Just like with Destiehellers and C0ckles Stans, these young women are hypocritical and disrespectful as well as delusional. Here are a few examples.

On one occasion, a Tumblr I was following reblogged a drawing of a member of The Who. It was a beautiful free-hand drawing, excellent quality. I was about to sing the praises of the artist, when I saw the caption.

“I drew this picture of our Daddy.”

Stifling my urge to barf, I sped away without comment or reblog.

I would venture to say that the majority of these men do not want to get busy with women young enough to be their granddaughters, let alone underage girls. Most of them have long since settled down and had families. They aren’t interested in reliving their young and wild years fooling around with children who have no idea what the hell they’re talking about.

I find this sort of thing incredibly disrespectful, to be honest. It reduces these musicians to how attractive they may have looked in some picture taken 30, 40, or in some cases, 50 years ago. It negates the hard work that went into their creations. It negates their personal struggles. It reduces them to objects rather than human beings.

As well, these young “ladies” (and I use the term loosely) are often rude to older fans who may actually have had experiences meeting members of these bands, who may have been among the first to hear the band when they were first starting out, who may have been fans of the band for many years and may feel sorrow when a person who has, in a sense, been “with us” all of our lives becomes ill or dies. Although I later determined that the attacks were coming from one person with multiple accounts, I was targeted primarily for my age when I expressed dismay after learning that someone I considered to be a longtime personal hero was terminally ill. 

The person making these attacks has written lengthy posts about how regardless of the more than forty year age difference between her and the object of her affections, she is the one person who truly loves him. Never mind that his children and fucking GRANDCHILDREN are devastated by his fucking terminal illness. Of course she is encouraged by her followers, who tell her things such as “he’d be crazy not to fall in love with you!!!11!”

Not only is this cringe-worthy as fuck, it’s disrespectful as hell.

That being said, it’s hilarious that I was called a bitter old bitch when the person they’re laying their claim on is more than ten years older than I am.

I’m not saying that people never develop powerful feelings for actors or musicians. They do. But there is a way of expressing these feelings which is respectful, and there is a way of expressing them which is completely rude, self-centered, and entitled. All too many of the fan girl contingent opt for the latter.

It doesn’t upset me to be aging, although the worsening of certain of my ailments in a political climate which is threatening to tear away health care options is concerning. It doesn’t sadden me to see the musical heroes who helped me through my own difficult teenage years aging. It does sadden me to see them becoming the victims of devastating disease processes. It saddens me to see them dying. 

Oftentimes watching videos of my favorite bands is like looking through a telescope at a dead world light years away. It breaks my heart, and it disgusts me all the more that there are those people out there who reduce these fascinating, creative individuals to nothing more than a “cute boy” who they want to fuck, or whom they want to imagine boning his band mate.

I’m not trying to say my generation was perfect. Overall, we were kind of a bunch of assholes. But we didn’t do shit like this. We couldn’t have imagined doing shit like this.

Just before writing this, I found a wonderful image of David Bowie on my dash.

David Bowie meant--no--make that MEANS a lot to me. The creative world lost a shining star when he died. The world as a whole lost a kind and compassionate spirit when he died. But truly, most importantly, his children lost a loving, caring father, and his wife lost her soul mate. Still, some of these entitled sorts think it’s okay to gush about how they wish they could be his groupie. Honestly, what the hell is wrong with you?

I’ll wrap things up with a couple of images from that dead world light years away. I suppose I’m melodramatic, but it really does get to me that these real, vulnerable, mortal people are seen as nothing but dolls to play with by some.

Cie

David Bowie (RIP 2016, age 69, cancer)

David Cassidy (diagnosed with dementia, age 66)

Jani Lane (died 2011, age 47, complications of alcoholism and substance abuse)

Malcolm Young (diagnosed with dementia at age 55, current age 64)

John Lennon (murdered 1980, age 40. I heard about it on the radio the morning of his murder and couldn’t believe it.)

Dimebag Darrell (murdered 2004, age 38)

Respect them.

The Myth of Rebirth

~

~

~

Listen Lark wing, fragile as November  rains,

The mists that cover hood and brow in fine veil

Carry not the weight of suffering nor life's kiss.

They, like you, like me, are passing through.

~

~

~

The Cheese Grates It: The Harsh Judgment of Victims of Multiple Cosmetic Surgeries

The person in the picture is Melania Trump, prior to having cosmetic surgery. She was told that she was too foreign looking to be a successful model. Of course the response of many people is to bash her for having had the procedures done.

I don't think it's right to say cruel things when a person feels pressured into getting cosmetic surgery or other procedures. Society puts a huge amount of pressure on people, particularly women, to remain young looking into our middle years and beyond. It often looks artificial, and it's sad that people feel such a push to alter their natural appearance. Saying things such as "she looks like crap" don't help. Judge a person's character, not their physical appearance.

I feel like it's sad when people have multiple cosmetic procedures in an attempt to preserve a youthful appearance, or due to body dysmorphic disorder, that they end up not looking entirely human. I question the ethics of a doctor who will do that many procedures on a patient.

I had a few minor procedures when I was younger, hadn't yet discovered size acceptance, and hated myself even more than I do now. I'd have the caps put on my teeth again. Because of the nerve damage to a couple of my front teeth, they are dark. I would still be self-conscious about that. I don't think I'd be as concerned about the gap that the orthodontic procedures which killed the nerves in the teeth from pulling on them too hard didn't close.

I had a mole "removed" with a laser, which I regret. It actually only lightened it, so now it looks like a bump. I don't know why I didn't get a second opinion. I didn't trust the guy who did it to do the surgery on my chin, which I had later. He wanted to take bone from my hip and implant it in my chin as he said I had a "weak chin." I just wanted liposuction. Why I let him talk me into the mole removal, I'll never know. He was later brought up on charges of molesting his female patients while they were under anesthesia. I was not under anesthesia for the mole removal, so he just got away with some of my money.

I later had a doctor with a more conservative approach do the liposuction on my chin. I have a one inch scar on the underside of my chin from the surgery, but just after the surgery I looked like I'd been in a really bad accident. My face was swollen and bruised. I had to wear an elastic band around my head for a month until the swelling went down.

While my face was in the process of shrinking, my loopy boss asked me what had happened. When I told her, her response was to pinch my cheeks and say "why didn't you have them do something about these chipmunk cheeks too?"

Being the delightful bunch of contradictions that I am, I vowed at that moment never to have any more plastic surgery just to piss people like her off. But who knows what may have happened if I had somehow gotten a "lucky break" and gotten into Hollywood, which used to be my big dream. I may have had all kinds of procedures in an effort to become "beautiful," because being a round-faced, chipmunk-cheeked, East European looking critter (my father's maternal ancestry is Lithuanian and I have that look) is not the chiseled, aristocratic look that Hollywood wants in its properties.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Toowoomba Region - Australia Day - Welcome Home

Love and tolerance looks like this.

The Cheese Grates It: Silly Cheese, Don't You Know Pomegranates are for Weight Loss, Not Eating Pleasure?

Here's a WTF moment in eating. (Trigger warning for discussion of food and body policing.) I get deliveries from Home Chef, and today for my lunch, I decided to make the blood orange and bulgur salad.
It has lots of good ingredients, like arugula, bulgur, almonds, blood orange, sweet potatoes, shallots, and pomegranate seed.
When I went to open the container of pomegranate seed, I noticed the picture of a pomegranate, which at first looked like it had a Saturn ring around it, or perhaps it was wearing a belt for reasons. But nope, it was a picture of a tape measure. Because fucking pomegranates are not something you eat because you like pomegranates or fruit in general, they are something you eat because they may just help you achieve that coveted, Next To Godliness thinness.
 Fuck. That. Shit.
I'm going to enjoy my salad anyway. I'm going to eat it right out of the god damn bowl, because I'm the only one eating it. Anything left over will be put in a container for later. But you know what? I would have enjoyed it all the more if I could have just prepared it without having the ever present reminder that people with bodies like mine should be eradicated shoved in my face.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It With Much Wrath~

The Cheese Grates It: Don't Let The Bastards Grind You Down and Always Keep Fighting

Me, every day of my life:

"Come on! Come on! Come and get it, baby! Come on! I don't got all day! Come on! Come on! Come on you bastard! Come on, you too! Oh, you want some of this? Fuck you!"

(Private Hudson, as the Xenomorphs surrounded him)

Life is filled with xenomorphs, although the real life xenomorphs aren't nearly as cool to look at as the ones in the movie. They're the shitty little microagressions that those of us who aren't considered pretty or cool have to face every day of our lives. 

Sometimes they take you down.

The only thing you can do is always keep fighting.

I have a tattoo to remind myself of this.

~The Cheese Hath Grated It~

Not So Wordless Beautiful Wednesday: Bill Paxton

17 May 1955 - 25 February 2017

The Netherworld loves our Private Hudson, but Bill Paxton brought life to so many other roles. He was a humble man, grateful for the opportunities he'd been given in life, never behaving arrogantly. His death is a great loss for film lovers, for his family, and for the world as a whole.
Bill passed away suddenly from complications of heart surgery on February 25.
Bill painted the name of his then-girlfriend Louise Newbury on his armor when he played Hudson in Aliens. He went on to marry Newbury, and they had two children, James and Lydia. Bill and Louise were together until the time of his death.
Is Bill beautiful? Many people would consider him ordinary-looking. He wasn't some sort of "Hollywood hunk." His proudest role in life was likely "father." His warm smile and kind eyes aside, Bill was indeed a truly beautiful person. He was gracious, decent and real. He will be missed.

Love,
Cie