I've left Facebook. The withdrawal pangs I felt all day yesterday were immeasurably strong...like someone needing a 'fix'. Who knew that social media could feed such fervour in a person? I've gotten over the 24 hour stretch and am feeling fine. My life hasn't fallen in around me in any great way. I've given my private email to a few hand picked individuals that I truly care about sharing correspondence with, some already have my private email or phone number, and the rest...well...

Let's see if I remember what life was like before I spent most of my reclusive life watching people's statuses change, changing mine or posting inspirational images or sayings....I have a book and a collection of poetry to write. Best get cracking.

Photocredit & Copyright: Fiona Smith 2012

LOVE

Love is a funny thing.

It can lead you down a path that might not be healthy for you.
It can lead you to your soul mate.
It can lead you back to your Self.

But you have to be real about it.

If what you have in front of you is GOOD...Be there. With her. And love her. Don't wish to be elsewhere.

BE Present.

Long Time No See...or as the Japanese say "O Hisashiburi"

I'm sorry I haven't blogged in a LOOOOONG time. I have been in the murky muds of depression me thinks. So many anaphylactic reactions (1 a week or so, or more...), recovering, feeling isolated, and continuing to try and figure out WHO I am now.

I've started writing a collection of poetry, tentatively called "Finding Abraham's Daughter"...as you can perhaps imagine, it is what it sounds like - an exploration of the Jewishness that perhaps has always been inherent in me? If that makes any sense...And I mean I've STARTED. I've just written a few things. But I have been able to see a vision for this as a COLLECTION, so that's why I'm holding to it as such. One must have goals.

It's time for me to return to the land of the LIVING. I haven't read much of anything; listened to much of anything; seen much of anything; made much of anything; engaged in much of anything. I've been sitting and sleeping on this same spot on this couch for months now and it's not getting me ANYWHERE, is it?

It's a sad, sad state of affairs if ALL you've done in a day is have Facebook open on your desktop.

So...I've ventured out of my shell today...here I am...

I hope you've all been as well as you can be. Please, drop me a comment, let me know how you've been. And if you blog, I'll be catching up on what you've written...

I'm Jewish!!!

Yah, you heard me right.

I'm Jewish!!!

How is it, I've managed to make it to 42 years of age and only just found this out???

I recently took part in a DNA study for Myeleoproliferative Diseases, of which Mastocytosis is one, and got back a whole bunch of DNA information about myself from my spit. Pretty amazing, actually. And one of the things I learned was that I'm of Ashkenazi Jewish descent on my Mother's side. My DNA profiling could only trace my maternal line because they need a brother, Uncle or Father sample from my family to do the paternal side of the family. This came as a HUGE shocker to all of us, who up until now, thought my Mother's family was pretty much Anglo-Saxon white bread. Turns out there's some heavy duty Eastern European blood coursing through those veins.

I burst into tears when I read the report that told me this. NOT because the report was actually telling me I was carrying the three gene markers for breast cancer and that there is an 80% chance that I will develop breast cancer before the age of 60, but that these three gene markers are specifically Ashkenazic Jewish gene markers...because it felt like this huge piece of my life's missing puzzle was neatly plopped into place. And I KNEW who I was. A peace washed over me.

I cried really hard for about 3 hours. My husband, between loving bouts of comfort, was laughing at me. "So I was right, you ARE a Jewish Princess!?!?!"...all these years, he's joked about me being one...and it turns out, I may well be one.  I cried because I was relieved, like I said, I FINALLY sort of had a sense of WHO I was/am/ARE; but more than that...I was crying because I was thinking about EVERY single time I have been treated badly by a Jewish person for being lesser of a human being than 'them'; for being a Gentile; a Goy...things I've been called by a former roommate and her friends who used to return from Synagogue a couple of nights a week to hang out at our apartment and proceed to rip said Gentiles and Goys to pieces, including me and I was present.  It was the first time in my life I experienced racial profiling and was routinely belittled for being what I was - me. Which is to say, not one of 'them'. Because that's what the world seemed to be divided into for the Jewish people I was experiencing..."THEM" and "US".  Even the two extremely successful millionaires I worked for as personal and executive assistants who were Jewish...they made sure I understood that there was "US" and "THEM" and the world was divided; one was better and we (that is to say, my kind, non-Jews) were lesser.  

I did take the time, during the course of knowing those people, to ask why they felt this way. Interesting to me was that all them shared the same response: "We are God's chosen people."

Apparently, this gives you a sense of superiority over all men and other races?

I don't know.  I can't imagine that this is ACTUALLY the case for all Jewish people.  After all, it turns out that I am one.  And I don't feel that way about human beings.  

However, I'm the first to admit, I don't know the first thing about being Jewish.  I'm eager to learn though.

And it would be wrong of me to leave you thinking that I've only been treated badly by Jewish people...that's not true. I have a lovely and dear Mastocytosis friend who is Jewish, and in one of my hours of need, she kindly and voluntarily helped me with medication that I couldn't afford at the time, and I remember thinking at the time...WOW, this wonderful woman is Jewish and is helping me and isn't treating me badly because I'm Goy or Gentile, she is just a beautiful human being and I am soooo grateful for HER (and her family.) I'm not sure even she knows how that small act of kindness helped shift what had been up until that point a VERY negative experience with pretty much every Jewish person I had encountered. But she did.  So, Julie, thank you. :)

But here I am, 42 years old and I've just found out that I'm Jewish.  It's funny but all my Jewish friends (I do have lots of Jewish friends it turns out...) all quickly wished me "Mazel Tov" and welcomed me to "The J Sisters"...and I like it. But I have to be mindful that I don't segregate the world into "them" and "us" and start enjoying belonging to a club that refused to have me as a member before now.  At the end of the day, we're all human and aren't we all made in God's image and loved by Him? Am I being too idealistic??  

I know it's not as simple as all this....I mean, there's being Jewish by blood and then there's being Jewish by faith.  I know NOTHING about being Jewish by faith, but I want to know. I have a genuine curiosity and fascination with it (and always have) and for years have wanted to go to Synagogue.  I'm not even sure how to begin though.  I have no Elders in my community to look to for answers or guidance. I have no Grandmother or Grandfather or Parents to ask in the ways and traditions of my people. When I've asked my Jewish friends to help me understand and learn about being Jewish I am politely silenced.  I may be asking the wrong people. (That's just occurred to me.)  So for now, I will use the internet and the library to learn what I can, as I can.  I guess I have another 42 years to learn what the first 42 years was missing.

And so, there you go, one more gift that Mastocytosis has given me...now I know my genetic background and I'm Jewish.  I would NEVER have known this if I hadn't gotten this crazy disease and taken part in this DNA study...see, you just never know where life is taking you....that's one heck of a gift I tell you. It's crazy good. I'm thrilled!

JINX!

So, last week when I wrote that I was afraid to jinx myself but what the heck, I was almost a week anaphylaxis free? Well, lo and behold, I ate something Thursday night (I wrote the blog on Wednesday night) that my body didn't like and whammo, I was in anaphylaxis pretty quickly. I did everything wrong too. I left the room, gagging and ran to the loo. I shut the door (thankfully didn't lock it) and proceeded to vomit into the toilet. Pretty sure the only thing keeping my airway open was my vomit forcing it's way UP the airway. Antony was frantically searching for my epi kit downstairs because it had fallen out of my bag and was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, it was found, he came upstairs to the loo and stabbed me with an epi pen...and then...sigh...everything got better. I stopped gagging and choking on my own mucous (well, the mucous slowed down...), felt like a bear had been lifted off my chest and air could go IN. Oh, it was painful not having air go in.

So, we got through that.

My cold left.

And then we had beef stir fry for dinner again tonight. And again, I threw it up, hived up, flushed up and got short of breath, felt like a bear was sitting on my chest. The dog was going crazy around me. It's made with whole ingredients...so what is in it that I'm reacting to? The ginger? Brown sugar? Soy sauce? Garlic? Any of the veggies? The beef? All I know is, it's bloody painful to wretch it back up, so that's the last time I eat it. It's sooooooooooo delicious and is soooooooooo colourful and 'good' for you. SIGH...

The dog didn't settle down until we'd used an epi pen.  He's become really attuned to what's going on when I'm reacting. He seriously starts pacing, whining, wagging his tail and whining AT us with this sense of urgency and he jumps up at me, paws at me and whines a lot. He KNOWS. At first, we thought he wanted 'out' or food or water or fuss, but once we'd ruled out these basic needs/wants, and it was obvious that it was something else that was bothering him, we let him tell us what was wrong.  He danced around me and paw'd at me and whined.  How does he know that I'm short of breath? Once I've had the epi pen, and am feeling better, he settles right down and cuddles up beside me. Won't leave my side.

Anyway, two epi pens since last Thursday. This has to stop.