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Marcela: Unfiltered

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An Act of Fielty

01 Friday Nov 2019

cock rock

It would be an act of treasonous hypocrisy against me,
to pay homage to you in death,
for truthfully, I neither respected nor liked you,
in life.

It would be an act of heinous duplicity against me,   
to attend an event graced by many who have hurt me profoundly, repeatedly,
in order that I may pay a false-loyalty tribute,
to you, or them.

I wish(ed) you, and them,
no harm,

BUT,

It is an act of love toward self,  
and a clear and present Fuck-You(s),  
that I have lain my sword of Fielty,
at my own feet! 

And on that day of reverence for you,
I shall attend to that, which pleases my heart,
instead.
As befits one who acts, 
unequivocally,
as her own Queen. 
~Marcela: Unapologetically Growing further, ever deeper, into my own skin.  
November 01, 2019



Poetry and Photograph: All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry

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Desperately Seeking: Words.

14 Monday Oct 2019

20191014_183234_resized-e1571105039264.jpg

Words are all I have,
to tame the chaos;
you have wrought upon every organ, in my body.

Words are all I have,
to quell the havocs;
you have wreaked in every crevasse, of my world.

Words are all I have ever truly loved,
in the ‘doing’ of life, in the doing of work, in the doing of art;
in the ‘doing’ of self.

I cannot hate you,
for you do precisely as I;
battle for survival, at the other’s expense. 

But I cannot accept you,   
for to do so is to accept a life;
unequivocally, unacceptable, to me.

My words, my mind, my life's blood;
You will not take these from me, Lyme.

Marcela: Desperately seeking: back to words. 
October 14, 2019

Writing and Photographs: All Rights Reserved.

 

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under My World(s), Poetry

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No Silver Bullets

31 Saturday Aug 2019

Tags

Lyme Disease

Broken-Heart-Sidewalk1

(I originally posted this to a forum I belong to, full of folks just like me, desperate to Kill the Beasts. Many, have been on/off horrendous amounts of anti-biotics and anti-malarials/parasitics for months, years, decades, only to kill the very thing we need to heal anything, a healthy gut/biome, and to get sicker by the day, many to the point of absolute disability and with no quality of life. Many of the younger folks inherited it in the womb and have been sick most or all of their lives. But apparently, congenital and/or persistent Lyme & Co. do not exist and antibiotics are the cure. I refuse to use the word chronic, for it is a complete and utter misnomer  for this set of complex issues, but that is another elephant entirely. I personally know at least one person who has been absolutely mis-diagnsed with Parkinsons, and no-one want so hear that that Parkinsons meds are not working because she doesn’t have Parkinsons, she has Lyme, and likely other infections. MS, Parkinsons, Alzheimers, many others, are often misdiagnosed in people with Lyme and Co-infections like Babesia and Bartonella, because the Bugs impact the same systems as these diseases. Testing in these people generally comes up negative because we test for antibodies. A body under siege, a body whose immune system is broken, cannot produce, cannot show, antibodies in the blood. They, these bugs, wreak havoc on every single life-sustaining system in the human body, and they are neither simple to diagnose, nor easy to eradicate.)

No Silver Bullets 

Following weeks of various preparations (body/food/products/home), I took my first dose (125 mg) at 10 this morning, of this very old drug (almost 70 years and counting since approval for the pharma-market), with many new, as yet fairly experimental, off-label uses.

Providing all goes well, I will be taking 125 mg every three days for the next two weeks and then adding 62.5 mg every two weeks, and later, adjusting the dose frequency, until I reach my maximum daily dose of 375 mg, which my ND and I figure I will stay on for at least a couple/few months. I am not under any illusion that this will be a ‘quick-fix,’ or for that matter ‘the fix,’ but I have faith in my own capacity to persevere, and I have faith in the useful support I have found here and elsewhere in my world. This is not my first rodeo with a ‘really big lifey-life bitch-slap,’ though it is perhaps in the top 2 on the F-UGLY list, one of the most heinous of the heinous-nesses I have waded through to date, and for so many reasons, for real-for real.

If I have learned anything in the nineteen-ish distinct and wildly different (from one another) lives I have lived in this one skin, in several countries on 2 continents, over 58 years, and through (too) many lifey-life bitch-slaps, traumas and dramas, self and other inflicted, it is this:

There is no getting over, no getting around, no getting under, anything. There is only through. Shortcuts, at least for me, inevitably, turn into the longer, more painful, more laborious, more expensive (monetarily and otherwise), way around.

There is little space left in my world and person for anything other than taking charge of my own life and of course by direct extension, my health. The only way I know how to do this for myself or for/with the people in my ‘driven by human-suffering’ work-world, in one of the so-called ‘helping professions,’ is by arming myself with as much (useful and credible) information, by utilizing critical thinking skills, by exercising prudence, thoughtfulness, and by accepting responsibility for that which is mine: my choices, based on the information I have at any given time, in any given circumstance, and by not enmeshing myself in/with, that and whom, which are not my concern.

This does not mean that I am not frustrated as all f*** with my experience and the level of ‘are you kidding me,’ regarding the bugs who have taken up un-invited and rude residence in my/our bodies, but I am challenged with being furious, or blaming them anymore, because at the end of the day, they are just trying to do what we all do: survive, literally, by feeding off another living thing. And they, unlike humans, do not have the ability to think or feel. They are microbial-doers, doing what microbial doers do. Humans on the other hand, think and feel, and then do, often despite clear and present evidence that they ought to think, feel, and do, differently.

None of this means that I am not appalled, that I am not saddened, that I am not broken-hearted beyond description at the levels of ignorance, incompetence, conjecture, conflict, confabulation and all other messes in between, around these bugs, by both the mainstream and naturopathic medical communities, and their various offshoots like research and pharma, as well as Jane and Joe Average, and our, and the people closest to us, suffering (often for years, decades), as a direct result of all that chaos.

This does not mean that I will be ‘happy,’ for having had this experience, and it is highly unlikely that I will ever be ‘grateful for it,’ specifically, once I have enough energy back to do more than go to work to afford the gas to get there, the roof over my head, the food in my fridge, and the pricey protocols and supplements that keep me on my feet (barely),  just so I can go back to work to run the cycle all over again. But, it is my most fervent belief, that a great deal of  my physical, emotional and psychological suffering has only been exacerbated by the ‘fury’ of it all, at it all, at them who don’t, won’t, or can’t ‘get it,’ whether ‘it’ is related to the bugs, or any other lifey-life-bitch-slap in my more recent or further pasts.

This does not mean that I co-sign, sanction or accept the really bad, bordering on libelous actions and non-actions of my ex-GP, and all the other doctors out there who are quite simply, WRONG. It means that I know better than to expend my oh-so precious energy at trying to do anything about anyone else, what they do or don’t believe (in), it means that the only thing I can do about any of it, lies in my response to it, what I choose to do with it, how far I choose to allow unhelpful feelings to run it, or not. To that end, I have chosen to disengage, even if too late, from some of the conversations I found unhelpful here and in other parts of my life, and have tried to walk the talk I speak of above, to the best of my innately flawed, and acutely human, ability.

I cannot articulate strongly enough, my gratitude for this group. I have prepared as much as I humanly could under my current physical, psychological and financial circumstances, and I could not have done it half as well without some of the great information and support in this forum. I go into it knowing that I have done what I can to provide myself the best possible success given all of the unknowns, the complexity and myriad variables that are inherent to this treatment, these Beast, and most importantly, I know that there are few, if any, silver bullets in life, most especially in life with Lyme and Co.

Thanks for helping me start, I’ll post updates as coherently and as often as possible. I work full time in a fairly high-maintenance job, with a commute, and my work-hours spent supporting folks in the midst of their various lifey-life bitch slaps, with both of us trapped in most inadequate systems and resources. So in the event I am not present here as often as I would like to be, please know, that I appreciate so many of you so very deeply! I have also learned to set and respect my own boundaries (because they are there to ‘keep me in, not others out), and there are times when I simply cannot engage with anyone, in the e-world or in-human, in regard to any topic, never mind foraging in the deep, dark forests of the Beasts occupying my (and your) body, and the entirety of many of our lives.

With love,
Marcela, doing battle with some mighty tiny, but mighty powerful, Beasts, and the systems around us in the world.

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Commentaries: On what matters to me, Life Lessons & Stories, Poetry

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Quackery Wackery Dock: This Poem IS To/About Me

30 Sunday Jun 2019

 

Quackery Wackery Dock, ye, yes ye, our Quackdom Queen,

hath doth run out of socks!

Tho multitudinous, thy choice of footwear, and never (ever), lacking frocks,

a fine mess ye royal dressing chamber, so tidy, clean and launder,

ere thy head done doth befound itself, on ye olde chopping block!

June 30, 2019

~Marcela: taking poetic license and squishing lines… rebel rebel, but doing it, as ever, finely and fun-ly clad, for I have indulged my penchant, for (too) many choices… let it be known, however, that most often, this Queen prefers to purchase previously loved (thereby planet friendly), high end/well-made (thereby lasting a very long time), attire and previously noted multitudinous pairs of footwear.

Day 2: Who was the last person you texted? Write a five line poem to that person.

It so happens, that I was the last person I texted. I often send myself reminders, and this one was about some measurement or other in ye Royal Dressing Chamber, the last room in the new Quackdom, still requiring significant attention…

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under 30 Days 30 Poems, Poetry

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M A R C E L A: This Poem is Not About Me…

29 Saturday Jun 2019

Moralistically meager,

Arbitrarily ardent,

Rectitude and righteous ‘truth(s)’

Creep calculatingly closer,

Ever encroaching into their thoughts, while

Lackadaisically lacking(?), their very

Acquiescences.

June 29, 2017
~Marcela, playing by the rules, how odd, how very very odd…  aaahh, but there is method to my Maddness:

Day 1: Write a poem where each line starts with a letter from your first name (an acrostic). It can be about anything, but it should not be about you or your name.

Check this out if you want to learn more about Psychopolitics: 

Image courtesy Depositphotos.com

 

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under 30 Days 30 Poems, Poetry

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The Unlikeliest Catch

23 Sunday Jun 2019

Tags

Life, Love, Poetry, Relationships

My oppositional flailings
to the expectation-less relationship
you desired,
have inadvertently
weathered my person
into a deepening of spirit,
reminiscent of the sea-years
etched upon your face
dearest Sailor.

With the persistence
of waves on stone
at the seashore,
these flailings and failings
have smoothed
harmful rough edges,
jagged bits of a younger, old me
no longer useful
to anyone.

And I am grateful.
Not despite,
but because of,
that which my net
failed to capture.

~Marcela: version 57.9 despite myself.
June 22, 2019

__________________________

"Let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the 
spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own 
mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the 
unprofitable is caught."
-kahlil Gibran

Interestingly enough, I deliberately cast a net a few years ago, 
and in so doing, despite my oppositional flailings against its 
very nature, the 'catch' quite inadvertently developed, 
through a love and friendship unlike any other I have known, 
into a profound deepening of my spirit, one not unlike what 
Mr. Gibran speaks of. 
~M.Y.M. 

Kahlil Gibran quote from Google Search
Poetry and Image: All Rights Reserved Marcela Mrnka, please share 
but do attribute. Thank you. 
~M.

 

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Life Lessons & Stories, Poetry

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Madam Bitch-Slappy

07 Tuesday May 2019

In my vertigo-ed state
I lurched to my perch,
for the water-coloured sky
changed as quickly,
as Life-Dom Madam Bitch-Slappy,
has changed mine…

~Marcela.

May 7, 2019
Photographs and Writing: All Rights Reserved

 

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No Permanent Affliction

04 Saturday May 2019

Tags

Life, Poetry, Truth

The truth is:
There is no permanent affliction or injury
physical; emotional or psychological,
sustained in the day to day sport of human living.

The truth is:
There are only innings, periods, heats and quarters
of battle, endurance, triumph or loss
in this game called life.

The Truth is:
the ether or some mystical inhabitant of it
keeps not, (y)our score of wins or losses, deserved and not
you and I, solely, are umpire, referee, and judge.

The truth is:
There is no permanent affliction
physical, emotional or psychological
only Game Changers
permanence and winning are a Lie.

So play the game
play it well,
play it now. 

~Marcela.
May 03, 2019.


An intruder has taken up squatter’s rights in my body.
Whether microbial, myco-toxic, fungal or parasitic (all four?)
in nature, it is fucking me up but good: my hair is falling out, 
there are moments during which I feel like I'm going to have a 
seizure any minute, I can't feel my limbs half the time and the 
other half it feels like something is crawling around inside them, 
or biting me, from the inside out. My kidneys hurt all the time, 
my vision has taken a beating, it is blurry half the time, 
my eyes are pinned all the time, and I see floating spots 
every time I blink. I have a constant 'cold,' I am in physical 
pain all the time, it ‘travels,’ my ears ring most of the time, 
I sound like a crack whore, I have had a tooth (molar) removed 
because my (awesome) dentist and I thought maybe the numbness 
was because of that, way back in December, when things first 
started. That hole in my mouth severely impacts my ability to 
eat certain things and the way I talk. I talk for a living.

I have been treated (to the tune of what is adding up to 
thousands of dollars) by my (awesome) naturopath for (potential) 
mold/mycotoxin illness and parasites, gotten rid of furniture I 
can’t afford to replace because potential mycotoxins, taken more 
(unpaid) time off work, lost too much income, to travel and see 
the most useless doctor on earth almost weekly for pretty much 5 
months (here, have some anti-anxiety meds and/or pain killers… 
no, thank you anyway…), and everything I have/am experiencing 
points to Lyme, or some other bacterial/parasitic/fungal thing, 
but she does ‘not believe’ in that, ‘does not have time’ for 20 
different things, symptoms ( but that’s how Lyme, and other less 
common microbes work in the human body) in one visit or 40, 
couldn’t be bothered to test for anything outside her limited 
box, and literally gets (intimidation) uppity when I mention 
anything I have talked about (including Lyme) with other health 
care professionals.

The list of her endless negligence and tyranny toward me is so 
big and hurts so bad I can’t even go there. It is safe to say 
that other than pregnancy when they said I couldn’t, I have 
never hoped for a ‘positive’ test result from a healthcare 
professional in my life, until now. The walk-in doc I saw in 
Nanaimo last week gave me no useful news yesterday, and won’t 
take me on as a patient because he’s leaving that clinic anyway… 
but he did give me the name of another doc there, and I managed 
to get an appointment with her for next week. In keeping with 
the recurring theme in my life, none of this is straightforward 
and it might even go way back to something I may have picked up 
working at the hospital in Duncan about 3 years ago, remember the 
Hashimotos thyroid thing (?), and I will continue to work with my 
naturopath, who unlike the ex-GP, is not intimated by other 
perspectives, mainstream medicine or the folks in it, 
she believes they should all work in a complimentary and 
collaborative way. Yeah, me too, but it feels like that is 
so far away from what we have that it borders on wishful 
thinking and we all know how I feel about that shit.

I am not giving up, while at the same time, 
working extraordinarily hard not to let my anger 
and hurt consume me, for it is not productive, 
harms me more, and attempting to regain some measure of life 
quality, while working full time (there is very little choice 
here) in a field and area of said field, which requires my full 
physical, mental and psychological acuity. I am out of energy, 
out money and out of credit, but I repeat, more to hear it myself 
than for your benefit, I am not giving up. 

She is a brutal fucking bitch at times, this game called life, 
and she is in a particularly bitch-slappy mood at this juncture. 
What she doesn’t know however, is that at least in this very 
moment, right here, right now, so am I.

~Marcela: Battling, unwell, wielding all power toward 
living, for survival is no longer an option I am inclined to 
entertain.

The Score

Illness: 5 (months, maybe years…)
Marcela: 1 (tenous)
GP: Useless but winning, because safely swathed, in God-like 
white coat, and unbeknownst to her, fired.

PS: Please, oh please, spare me the ‘you got this,’ and any 
manner of ‘positive energy’ and other platitudes. And please, 
oh please, respect my beliefs by not, under any circumstances 
praying for my Atheistic-Realist soul, in the same way I don't 
atheist all over your posts/struggles/issues/triumphs... 
for the only defense I have left for this manner of 
un-helpfulness, is delete and block. No tackle left for 
bullshit, not a smidge. Comments the likes of ‘this sucks ass,’ 
are so much more meaningful, as are none at all, if positivity 
and prayer are all you know how to do to support someone in pain. 
Thanks.

PPS: If I have to 'deal,' with whatever is eating me alive, 
I will do it wearing cherries and polka-spots...



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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Life Lessons & Stories, Poetry, Rants & Other Musings: Unfiltered-Raw

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Un-learned; an Intelligence of Self.

26 Tuesday Feb 2019

Tags

Poetry, Self, Truth


“The Artist is no other than [s]he who unlearns what [s]he has learned, in order to know [her]himself.”
-E.E. Cummings


The longer I write, create anything, the more I get this on a level so profound it hurts; and it hurts so good that at some point it stops hurting, and serves to validate, that, which I have always known, self.

The less I care about what you or anyone think, of anything I create, written or otherwise, the more I unlearn about all you and they have inured me with: false concepts and ideas, of who and how to be.

The more I unlearn about these things you have gifted me with, the less I need your, and their validation for my art; or anything, pertaining to me, any little thing at all.

And the less I need your validation, the more forth-rightly I can inform you, when you have mis-read me, again, and care little, if at all, about what you do with that. This is a freedom, an intelligence of self, I have not known, here-to-fore.

~Marcela.
February 26, 2019.

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Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Poetry, Unfettered

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Diamonds’n Hoars

17 Thursday Jan 2019

Tags

haiku, WordPlay


        Cold-drunken Hoars, drop
        frosty icicle diamonds
        in the grassy ditch


Marcela: itching to go walkabout,
January 17, 2019
Image and Poetry: Please share without plagiarizing. Thank you.

 

 

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Recent Posts

  • Flying a Cherry-Blossom Flag on Remembrance Day
  • An Act of Fielty
  • Desperately Seeking: Words.
  • Gratitude, for a young woman, I’ve not yet met…
  • The ACK Method; for Navigating My Bitch-Slappy Life
  • No Silver Bullets
  • I Understand Why They Kill Themselves
  • Why I (still) won’t wave a patriot flag on Canada Day, or any day.
  • Quackery Wackery Dock: This Poem IS To/About Me
  • M A R C E L A: This Poem is Not About Me…

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