Comments on: Post-hospital

By: Jennifer Turner

Jennifer Turner — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 08:20:40 +0000

I hope you know that you are a healer too, with your own family practice. What a community you have built here! I use Rite Aid =)

By: Anne

Anne — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 16:59:55 +0000

YOU CAN DO IT.

By: Deb

Deb — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 07:40:51 +0000

Oh jenn…..your writing, the comments have me sobbing here. Can I just pretend they are saying these amazing things to me too? Some days I just need to borrow some of that hope and energy and understanding….the incredible moment of acknowledgement that it isn’t being lazy or crazy…..i can’t call people back or go do things. I can’t do the grocery store either. It takes all I have and then that it is for the day, back to bed I go.
Today all I can do is commisserate instead of offer the beauty and kindness that others offer. Love to you, my friend

By: laurelbirdsong

laurelbirdsong — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 17:12:05 +0000

One of my best friends chronically has this too. Not that I “know” but I know…. she is my Pisces friend, my Suze, my daughter’s Aunt Sue. And I love her. And I understand her. And she can have as much space as she needs and (I hope) she knows that when she needs us, we are here. If I lived closer, she would have pasta on her porch all the time.
You are beloved. In your fragile state and in your strong state, you are loved.
Recognize fear but don’t let it have you. Keep up your dialogue (maybe it is monlogue but act like it’s a damn dialogue!) and we’ll keep listening out here in teh interwebs. Don’t know you, but we know you.

By: pogonip

pogonip — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 04:52:27 +0000

Dearest Jenn, when cocooned in those warm blankets, with dark thoughts hovering over you, and the world pressing down–remember us. We love you more than you can know. Your prescription for cyber-hugs is a click away, to be taken as needed. Side effects are rare but may include sudden rays of happiness, warm fuzzies, tears of joy, and the beginnings of a smile. Can you feel all those positive vibes from Nevada and points eastward? Be kind to yourself. Love, love, love, love…

By: Barb

Barb — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 22:50:37 +0000

Hop, skip and jump to our house, which is very peaceful in the evenings and weekends except for Neal snoring.

By: Redneck Mommy

Redneck Mommy — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 20:02:24 +0000

I struggle with the same illness. I have to force myself to leave the house. Force myself to remember the joy that once came so easily to me.

The fog threatens to swallow me and I fight to stay above it.

I’m here for you. Out here in the mist. Cheering you on.

By: Julie

Julie — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 16:16:15 +0000

Much love from a fellow mom who’s been there recently as well, if not the same country, the neighboring one. Still struggling, but still curious enough to see what happens next, so that’s gotta count for something, right?

By: zeke

zeke — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 13:40:53 +0000

Love to you.

By: Rebekah

Rebekah — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 01:36:51 +0000

Its hard, so very hard. And for what its worth, you must know from these many comments that you are not alone and also not unique in your pain. For me, when I am struggling, that is sometimes helpful to try to remember because it is such a lonely and isolated place (though I know this does not relieve your own pain).

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.
But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real
you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
-from “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams