Why I changed my life. (Fibromyalgia)

Photo by Nandhu Kumar on Pexels.com

Eleven years ago, in 2011, I began this blog to document a new phase of the journey of my life. To be honest, the new phase started in 2008 when I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia. In 2010, I made a significant decision, the kind that is not easily reversible. I decided to walk towards the unknown. I decided to step within and uncover or discover a different way to live.

Flying to…

Certainly, walking towards also means walking away from. I left behind a life I worked hard to create and tried to live. The reality, however, was that life threw me curveball in the form of fibromyalgia. Back then, I had many reasonable feelings and perhaps some unreasonable thoughts about developing this chronic illness.  

My feelings ran the gamut, from anger to fear to sadness to happiness (after all, life can always be worse). My thoughts were both pratical (how can I survive like this?) and seemingly impractical (how can I move to Italy?).

Only two things were certain: the present could no longer exist, and whatever future I have, I would need to trust to instinct and chance because I could not trust my body to function as usual. I needed to learn to accept that I was no longer who I once knew myself to be.

New Cover Art for YouTube. Click to Visit Vlog: Rome Off the Beaten Path.

You may be wondering why I decided to write about this topic today. Recently, a friend told me that they were asked by someone else, “So, why did Diedré leave her previous line of work (considering the renown of the hospital)?” It made me realize that it may be difficult for others to understand my path.

Sometimes in life your life may seem ideal to others. They may think, “You have everything I would like.” This way of thinking is not inherently wrong. It is merely uninformed. We cannot fully know or understand the intricacies of anyone’s life. It is enough to take on the challenge of knowing and understanding our own.

Ajigaura Beach, Hitachinaka, Ibaraki, Japan

So, why did I decide to go towards the within to the unknown parts of myself? Because I needed to find a new way to live, to understand myself, and I am naturally curious about the world around me.

Thirteen years ago, I sat in a fibromyalgia group support meeting. I was the youngest member of the group, by about 10 years. Listening to the group members, I learned how much fibromyalgia had changed their lives… for the worse. They could no longer work, had difficulties with daily functioning, were angry, sad, and frustrated with the hand that life dealt them.

I didn’t see their path as mine. I decided to find a different way, even if others may not understand it.

Hitachi Seaside Park, Hitachinaka

I am now in same age range of those fibromyalgia group members. Over the past decade, I have travelled quite a bit, studied, and am now working full-time. It is a very simple life that I have crafted based on my abilities and health.

I don’t know how life would have been if I had continued on my original path. I do know that the path I chose has led me to learn more about the world and myself.

If nothing else in life, know this: only you can live your life, and only you can change your path.

Until next time.またね(⁠^⁠^⁠)

With What Time…

Photo by Ian Lai on Unsplash

And so I break my silence. It’s been more than a year since I posted. In the interim, I have been on a new journey in Japan. I moved to a new city, am trying new things, and learning more about the world in which I live. Life, with all of its many intricacies, is wonderfully fascinating–when we slow ourselves down enough to appreciate the ease and challenge of it all.

まだ静かなりたくないです。声まだがりますだから。命は本当に面白いですね。。。でもよく私たちは気に付きません。毎日働きまして心配して食べすぎる飲みすぎる「これは命です」と言います。そして。。。

Ich wünsche mir, dass wir einen anderen Weg finden können. Jeden Tag versuche ich zu verstehen, was eigentlich der Sinn meines Lebens ist. Ich habe noch keine Antwort. Jedoch bin ich glücklich.

A volte mi chiedo dove dovrei andare. Dove potrei trovare la mia casa, la mia famiglia, me stessa? Dove sarò domani o dopodomani? A volte sembra che qualsiasi cosa facciamo e chiunque siamo o scegliamo di diventare non sia mai abbastanza per gli altri.

Still, I am enjoying the process of it all. As such, I have decided to begin writing again. I am still working on teaching myself Japanese, trying my best to keep Italian and German.

Also, every now and again, I remind myself that my thoughts exist in English, too.

With What Time I Have

let the snowflakes fall,
turn my hair from black to white,
smiling, I drink tea.

Con il tempo che ho a disposizione

I fiocchi di neve cadono, trasformando i miei capelli da neri a bianchi –
sorridendo, bevo il tè.

Mit der Zeit, die ich habe

Schneeflocken fallen und färben mein Haar von schwarz zu weiß –
Lächelnd trinke ich meinen Tee.

この命の時間に

雪が降って、私の髪を黒から白に染める -。
微笑みながら、お茶を飲む。

Sometimes we cannot understand our paths as we walk. Sometimes we are judged, rightly or wrongly, for what we choose. What I have come to understand is that the most important thing that any of us can do is live…and live now.

So, with what time you have, how shall you spend it?

As for me, I am enjoying my tea and watching the seasons and myself change.

Until next time…

Life in Japan | Begin Where You Are

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Mito, Ibaraki, Japan. Weather: Rainy.

I’m sitting in one of the many cafés I consider a second home, watching passersby struggling with or embracing the rain. It’s Sunday morning and early enough that the late night clubgoers are still heading home. I am in awe of the high schoolers heading off to club activities and the salarymen who are likely heading to work some more. An obaachan holds on to her umbrella for dear life, her hands look gnarled yet strong and her bent back has seen its fair share of field labour of potato and rice harvesting, I imagine. That’s right, I am imagining, imagining the lives of the many people who happen by and who will likely remain unaware of my observation. What about my own life?

Recently, I have taken another step, shifting away from simply observing to taking action. A life lived in limbo is a life left on pause. I decided it was time to press my play button and see what happens. It’s a wild yet freeing feeling. I am learning to make peace with who I am and where I am in my life. Beginning where I am as who I am…what a crazy notion, at least for me. And it all began with a simple question: who would I have been if [insert whatever traumatic experience] didn’t happen?

Upon waking, I thank the universe that I have another opportunity to continue on this interesting journey called life. I am grateful for my breathing because I know that I am here. I make my bed with pleasure. I stretch for a moment and then clean my apartment…and then stretch some more. My body still feels heavy because of old experiences and thought patterns. However, I am feeling lighter in my heart and body as each day passes. I make a simple breakfast and lunch–I am practicing letting go of greed. I am letting go of suffering.

Photo by Nandhu Kumar on Pexels.com

Actions taken without worry, without the nagging inner critic or concern for the outer critics. This is the type of life that I am creating…and it is empowering. I am learning how to listen to feedback, whether from self or others, nonjudgmentally, taking from it what I find necessary for self-improvement and letting go of the rest. Freeing myself from the suffering of shame, the feeling of being inherently wrong as a human being, is my work now. I have discovered that my mind left without self-compassion is a dark and seemingly unruly place. I have also discovered that I am not my mind, nor am I my body. I am who I am.

Understanding that I am and am not has been crucial to pressing the play button on my life. I can observe the parts of myself, my mind and my body, with curiosity and then with intention. How shall I shape my mind to think? How shall I shape my body to move? My mind is my canvas, and I am the painter. My body is my clay, and I am the sculptor. In this way, I am choosing to move forward with my life.

Recently, a friend shared with me her knowledge of kintsugi (金継ぎ) or kintsukuroi (金繕い), the Japanese art of mending broken pottery using gold, silver, or platinum. She said to me that she thought that it was a lovely metaphor for when we are feeling broken in our lives and trying to mend ourselves. That is, that we can choose how we mend those places in which we have experienced hurt, to make those places and our overall sense more beautiful and stronger in the process.

So, in letting go of suffering, taking action in our lives through acknowledging ourselves, not just as mind and body, we can begin where we are on our journey and heal those places in which we have experienced hurt. We can begin creating new paths to an authentic self.

Have a beautiful day today and every day.

D.

Poetry |静けさ – Quietness

It’s a quiet morning. The sky is grey. And slowly, I am working on improving my Japanese.

When it comes to language learning, I find it challenging. Language is such an inherent part of identity–who do we become once we learn a new way of expressing ourselves in the world?

I’ll be frank: language learning can be grueling, anxiety-inducing, and sometimes downright embarrassing. I am far from fluent in the languages I can speak. Still, I find my process of learning so very rewarding.

My process: using creative writing and literary translation as my primary tools for language learning.

Currently, I am focusing on Japanese and am writing poetry in Japanese. Eventually, I would like to begin writing short stories. When writing, I write in Japanese (or any other language) first and then translate to English. For me, this method feels most natural. Today, I am sharing a poem.

夏末の静けさ

涼しい風が吹いて、
遠いところに動物の遠吠えを聞いて、
まだ野花の綺麗な色を見ます。
ここにいる。

夜の空の闇の静けさ、星がキラキラ、
段々息がゆっくりになります。

まだセミの最後の歌を聞いてみます。

The Quietness of the End of Summer

A cool breeze blows,

animals howl in the distance,

and the beautiful colors of wild flowers

have captured my gaze.

I am here.

The night sky’s quietness, the glittering stars,

gradually my breathing slows.

Still, I am trying to hear the last song of the cicadas.

Black History Month | Event: “Lift Every Voice” (Feb. 27th, 6PM CET)

Image by John Cabot University

I am honoured to have been asked to participate in John Cabot University’s Black History Month 2021 celebration. Many sincere thanks to Alexandria J. Maloney for inviting me to join her esteemed panelists in this discussion on our experiences living and studying in Rome.

Please, join our discussion . You can register by using the following link: Event Registration.

Poetry | Trying #Tanka #Poetry Form

春風が吹く。髪が白くなる。季節を数えることをやめなさい。

The wind tells of spring. My hair is becoming white. This season and next season, I keep on counting. I really ought to stop now.

5/7/5/7/7 Style

The wind tells of spring. 

My hair is becoming white. 

This season and next 

season, I keep on counting.

I really ought to stop now.

Poetry | On Language Learning & Negativity

Itako, Japan

On Language Learning & Negativity.

Listen to me.
Like a child,
my words are misspoken
and my grammar is broken.
But, listen to me anyway.

Hear my words
because they have meaning
and create a connection
between you and me.

I am building a bridge
with a language that isn’t my own.
Won’t you help me?
Or, at least, not demean me?

That I speak your language
in broken sentences
and accented words,
what does it matter?

I am trying to build a bridge,
many bridges, in fact.
I am trying to understand
the world around me,
even if you don’t want
to understand me.

SoCS & #JusJoJan 2021 Daily Prompt – Jan. 30th| The Beginning, The End

In the end

I knew what I needed

to do to move forward–

and

that is really all that matters.

Now I only need to step across

the beginning

of my new path.

Poetry | An old cup

An Old Cup

Shattered,
glass fragments
scattered
like a mind tormented
by irrelevant
matters–
it’s only an empty cup
that was never once
filled up
with anything
particularly wanted.

Poetry | Untitled (Thoughts on Writing)

Tonight, I want
to write freely,

without pretense
or consideration.

I hold in my hand
a book of poetry,

seeking inspiration

or emotions,
long lost and unknown.

In this moment, too,
my hands shake.

yet still,
I reach for my pen.