852 NGUOUY Part 16 TRICK QUESTION :)

Whoops!  Just noticed that while editing post 851, I was interrupted and forgot to re-post it, so if you've not read it, may I suggest back tracking before moving on to post 852.  :)

Post 852:
Without minimizing the importance of retrieving a major detail concerning the bigger picture that defies conscious memory, my most recent bout with déjà vu suggests that I figure my way out of this mental maze or sleeping dogs may awaken to bite me, again.

In the aftermath of this paralyzingly experience, which literally scared me out of my wits, I've come to understand what makes me so doggone determined to unlock my mental block, thus emptying my junk drawer of unnamed fears that limit my sense of personal freedom in covert ways, today.

Riddle:
When contemplating the development of personal strengths, which inner strength seems to rise to the top, over all?

Hint:  This is a trick question :)

851 NGUOUY Part 15 REACHING IN AWAKENS SLEEPING PORTIONS OF SELF ESTEEM :)

During recent weeks, when heightened levels of stress signaled instinct to suck the sum of my personal strengths inward, I wrestled with fear until my conscious mind pulled this plum of an insight out of my hat:  I came to see that during those weeks of intense introspection, I'd actually endured the mirror image of the mental stress that had been erased from my memory during childhood after Mother Nature had cast a spell of denial over my conscious mind in hopes of freeing a terror-stricken, little girl from remembering an experience so confounding as to repress every terrifying detail, which had proven too complex for my undeveloped think tank to process with anything resembling clarity … However …

Now that my mind has matured to the point of casting aside all pretense of having experienced an ideal childhood, I've worked consciously, step by step, toward reclaiming the sense of freedom-to-be-me, which had been lost when my connection to sanity demanded that my defense system create a lets-pretend world, which served as my safe haven whenever fear threatened to overwhelm my sense of personal well being.  And that insight makes me ask—what could be more intriguing than figuring out the inner workings of one's own brain?  I mean, seriously—once we come to understand how the complex workings of the brain direct each one's life as to what to explore in depth and with whom, common sense suggests that we gain insight into balancing logic with emotion, effectively, while working toward achieving any heartfelt goal that seems beyond one's reach.  And to that end, I've learned to make good use of reflection to make certain that my decisions are not based primarily in fear.

As each detail, repressed within my mental block, reveals itself to me in a piecemeal fashion (which at first glance seems totally unrelated to whatever is heightening my stress level, today), I gain clues into why a heavy weight exists behind my ever ready smile—hmmm—no wonder why we question that which Mona Lisa may have secreted away :)

If you ask: Annie, does that mean your smile was untrue, I'd sincerely reply:  No one can fake sparkle … and since human nature has two sides, I choose to feel grateful for every good thing that comes my way.  When we stop to think about it, isn't that what positive focus is truly about—consciously refocusing our minds to move past that which felt bad with heartfelt appreciation for that which feels too good to pass up, today?  I mean, we don't need to muster positive focus when life feels like a picnic, right?  It's when our picnic feels like we're sitting atop an anthill that attitudes need to refocus on sound reason to recreates that which ignites sparkle within our spirits' smiles.  With positive focus intact, the sun will come out tomorrow.  And if you don't get ants in your pants then with patience, your next picnic may offer even more pleasure than the last.  (Guess my corny sense of humor is returning—I just couldn't resist :)

So, guess what turns sparkling smiles into fearful frowns more often than we'd think?  Guilt.  And here's the rub:  It can be very hard to tell when feelings of guilt are undeserved (more about that, later) …

If you ask, Annie, why choose to dive ever more deeply into your mind if self discovery proves such a painful process, I'd reply:  As long as details, making up the bigger picture of this mental burden, remain buried within my subconscious, I'll experience times when my spirit will dive into dark corners of my mind as though freedom to enjoy life with the utmost of zest is suddenly caged inside an air tight chamber, where stress sucks the oxygen out of my lungs.

With that thought in mind, here is sound reason why I enlist positive focus while working toward change for the better:  Each time lack of oxygen ties my thoughts into tight, little knots, my defense systems sounds a silent alarm—and like a scared rabbit, every muscle in my body tenses in readiness to fly free of unidentified danger by diving into a hole, which in my case proves to be a junk drawer with a hair-trigger lock that springs open as soon as my sense of safety feels threatened—and that insight explains why I had need to invent The Line of Control, which cautions my mind to take time out to think smart on the spot as soon as instinct feels any sign of unnamed danger closing in … Whew!

On the other hand, each time the junk drawer in my mind flies open, I get to pull another painful detail out of my memory bank, which can be likened to pulling a stubborn cactus spine out of the top of my head.  You see, each puzzling piece of fear that needes my mind, inhibits me from enjoying a slice of life that proves as enriching to my spirit's well being as disgesting a heart healthy salmon, caught in a fresh water stream, after spawning life anew :)

Once these insights stop popping like popcorn and my story, concerning these past several months, resumes, I believe you'll see how objective reflection offers relief from pain each time I consciously identify and shed undeserved guilt, thus creating change for the better, which ends in gain, all around, because each detail withdrawn from my memory bank acts as a clue—or better yet, a puzzle piece—that helps me to recreate the bigger picture, which, to this day, remains locked out of sight within my deeply troubling mental block.

As this troubling mystery colors itself in, one detail at a time, I identify strengths, which had been half baked.  As working to strengthen vulnerabilities offers me sound reason to doubt myself less, my sense of self trust, concerning decisions made, today, grows ever more secure.  And as life moves forward, I seek insight into creative solutions in hopes of resolving conflicts that defy understanding by setting fear to one side in favor of appreciating that which feels better, today, over that which felt worse, yesterday.  And in this way does my spirit's desire to thrive drive my mind toward identifying and conquering fear of remembering an experience that had scared me into denying reality when I was a vulnerable child.

In short, my mind seeks insight into working consciously to ensure that my heart does not fear undeserved guilt to the point that I deny my own needs.  And in this way do I free my spirit's sparkle to offer and accept love so openly and compassionately as to inhale a sense of inner peace more deeply than when my persona had been intact—suggesting that in retrospect, I am deeply thankful for the implosion of my protective shield :)

I've also come to see that emptying this junk drawer of its power to limit my mindsets requires that my spirit embrace leaps of faith toward personal growth.  That was not true when I was young and—rather than setting a goal to achieve the freedom to be true to me—all I wanted most was to 'fit in' with family and friends.  So each time I 'chose' to spurn my need to tune into my true self, I'd squeeze my sense of independence into the limited space allotted to my person within the air tight chamber that embraced friends and family but felt too small to hold all of my spirit intact.

As long as 'fitting in' remained my primary goal, there was only one choice that seemed safe to the undeveloped mind of this particular child:  Leave heartfelt needs unmet while flying with birds of a feather, whose attitudes made it clear that I see things their way or it was the open highway for me.  And here's why I did not contemplate venturing out on the path less taken after the age of five (at which time I'd packed a bag but got no further than the sidewalk outside of our front door):  I'd felt deeply loved by many and feeling deeply loved conquered any thought of questing toward a path where each voice feels free to be true to one's deepest sense of self.

As loving freely and feeling loved deeply felt very good, my instinct to survive by accepting life within this airtight chamber stole away large portions of 'my' independent voice.  And as I thrived much more often than those few times when unidentified fear arose, causing my high flying spirit to crash into the depths of that junk drawer, I'd silence instinct and choose personal limitation over existential freedom, time and again.

Each time my spirit crashed, self trust would arise in the form of this mantra, which regularly came to mind—I crash but for some reason, I do not burn—and you know what 'they' say:  It matters not how many times you fall—what matters is how many times you stand up to try, try again—until you succeed—you know, like a scientist in a lab, experimenting until an antedote is found for much that had gone wrong when I was young.

Over the years each stage of life continued to prove kind and not … you know how that goes.  And as long as my primary focus remained bent upon 'fitting in', my spirit shed portions of independence, here and there, now and again, in hopes of feeling accepted by this group or that.  Though this herding instinct left gaping holes in my self esteem, which, during moments of contemplative reflection left me feeling deeply conflicted or rawly wounded, for the most part, I developed a false sense of security, and that false sense of gain numbed my spirit's pain as long as 'fitting in' was what I'd cared about most.

While riding this merry-go-round wearing blinders, I'd no clue that that which had caused my mind to spin off its axis in such a stormy fashion as to turn logic upside down was fear, geysering out of my junk drawer, grabbing control over the independent portion of my brain—yet again—just as had been true when I was a child, dependent upon the minds of adults to keep me safe …

In its deepest sense, this post describes the ways in which a thriving spirit can suddenly dive toward barely surviving when repressed self awareness has not yet thought to embrace tools that crack through walls of denial, behind which palpate strings of insight into self discovery, empowered to resuscitate caged portions of self esteem.

If asked why I'd say it takes patience, courage, tenacity and a whale of self trust in order to develop the degree of objectivity necessary to dig one's way out of a scared rabbit's hole I'd say: Giving birth to subconscious fear can feel as painful as releasing a kidney stone, and thus do so many shy away from deeper truths, peeking out from places within the mind that feel too darkly troubling and scary to reflect upon in depth without knowledgable help.  In short, healing from post traumatic stress is not for sissies.

BTW if you thought I had, upon awakening this morning, any idea that this train of thought was lying in wait to chug out of my mind before I even had time to arise from my bed … Please think again!  Honestly, at this point in my life, this stuff just happens!  And that's no lie!  Upon awakening, a thought drives me to reach for my mini iPad and—I'm off!

Geez!  Who knows what mindful treasures may be mined when we consciously choose to strip away our personas, layer by layer, in hopes of making better use of our brains so that insight into change for the better will link one mind with another, day by day!  If it's true that anything is possible, like—human brains, working together, conceiving of a plan to build a rocket that actually sends people to take a walk on the moon!!!!—I mean if the human brain can accomplish a feat as amazing as that and if world peace still escapes us, then doesn't it make sense for more of us to raise children in nation after nation in such a knowledgable, kind hearted environment as to actualize individualized heartfelt goals that reach as high as the sky while we hold hands with each other across the expanse of many miles … and thus do I awaken, empowered by my inner drive, to share insights, born of introspective reflection that grows more objective with practice, each day—

Seventy-six nations and since I've lost count … maybe even more :)

850 NGUOUY Part 14 THAT WHICH IMPLODED PROVED TO BE MY ...

That which imploded proved to be my persona!
And once one's self protecting persona is blown ...
Vulnerabilities are most certainly exposed!
As I'm feeling transparent …
I can see what I feel straight into my core
And the more I see into myself the more I come to know myself
So it's no wonder that I just spied Socrates wings clapping with glee …
You see, once vulnerability to an unidentified fear is fully disclosed
Another portion of injured self esteem is empowered to heal for all time …
And what could be more appropriate than giving thanks
For a blessing as profound as that on this day of good fortune when
We celebrate Thanksgiving with family and friends :)

Uh ... hold the phone for just a sec, because
Insight's calling me to task, again ...
Though I'd thought never to have felt
Such depths of fear to compare with that of the past several weeks
Here's why that declaration proves yet another mistaken belief:
If it's true that the depth of my reaction was the mirror image
Of terror I'd experienced as a child
Then this recent bout with fear
Had been born of déjà vu, suggesting that
This particular fear has laid dormant in wait of
Biting into my sense of personal safety with
The same degree of anguish I'd experienced
As an innocent child, who'd not understood that
Both sides of human nature exist within every individual and
Having placed my trust in one who'd betrayed my innocence
Life grew too confounding to comprehend ... So ....
That which had been too frightening to remember, I forgot
And now that this specific fear, which I've not yet named for you
Is transparent to me …
Insight into that sleeping dog, which
Had recently awakened to terrorize me, again
Has been tamed, suggesting that this fear has lost its power
To attack my personal sense of safety, unexpectedly, ever again
And as one insight continues to light up the next, eventually
A string of Aha! moments will illuminate
Each detail of my mental block, which is still opaque
And as each opaque detail of my mental block
Becomes transparent, ultimately, the bigger picture, which
Eludes comprehension, today, will clarify, one step at a time …
For example, the story that's unfolding, right now, aims to
Show you (and me) how, at first glance
The dark side of my mind twisted
My sense of self trust out of shape to the point that
I'd mistakenly thought the sum of my strengths
Had deserted me in my time of greatest need when in truth …
Over time, my inner strengths gained clarity into logic, which
Arose to save the day by offering conclusive evidence, which
Will prove beyond a shadow of self doubt
That my hard won inner strengths remained intact :)
And as soon, my friends, you shall feel free to judge that for yourself
With that said, let's feast on good fortune before the turkey gets cold :)

849 NGUOUY Part 13. STRENGTHS SUCKED INTO FEAR DID NOT DISAPPEAR :)

Please make no mistake, I'm not suggesting that logic did not succumb to fear.  Because it most certainly did.  What I am suggesting is that we refer to inner strengths for sound reason :)

So, here's what I'm aiming to say, clear as rain, today:  When fear struck such a mighty blow as to suck in logic, the sum of my strengths did not dry up or disappear into thin air.  Rather than becoming subservient to terrorist attack, my strengths converged within the darkest corner of my mind as though formulating an underground movement, which, led by my spirit's NGUOUY attitude, fought valiantly back while observers, who could not see into me, wrung their hands, fearing that this unnamed terrorist, which none could see including me, had already succeeded in wrestling the best of my independent spirit to the mat, when in truth, the true state of my mental acuity was bound and determined to win the last round that ended this deeply personal war of wills, which continued to test the fortitude of my strengths for several weeks.

And if you'd like to know how I know full well that what I say, today, is true, well ... Seeing is believing, so please stick close, and you'll be bound to see how my spirit rose above the fray, leading the sum of my strengths to duke it out with overwhelming fear until self trust wrestled Goliath to the mat ...

Whoops!  There I go, letting today's train of thought run so free as to get too far ahead of my plan to relate my story in an orderly, step by step fashion ... and to that end, tis time to caution my mind to call forth the strengths of patience and self discipline, yet again :)

As to answering yesterday's riddle (If my well developed, oft practiced strengths remained intact then what imploded in their stead?) … well … today's train of thought has not yet pulled into its station, suggesting that we muster patience in hopes that yesterday's riddle will be answered tomorrow.  Why?  Because our house is filling up with homing instinct :)

Since our family takes the meaning of Thanksgiving literally, we create a safe haven in which loved ones gather and partake in our traditional roll-of-the-dough, pre-holiday fest, where adults laugh and tease each other, good-naturedly, while children, perching on stools, brandishing marble rolling pins, connect with several generations, who, standing around the center island, take turns, rolling, stuffing and frying potato knishes enough to serve an army, and having glanced at the clock, which reminds me of making timely airport runs, it's plain to see why time to write is short, so I'd best press pause on today's train of thought, for now … :)

(BTW ... Our knish rolling evening was no party for me during those early years when, in addition to the rest of my super busy life, I'd worked till late at night to accomplish the entire task on my own.  As knish-making had been Will's family's tradition, something [called resentment, firing up inside me] had to change for the better ... So with insight into that awareness, my mind called upon its creative director to transform a time-consuming task, step by step, into a festive, pre-Thanksgiving occasion enjoyed by the entire flock.  Once my spirit had thought to fire up creativity, that dark spot in my mind, which had caused my smile to droop, brightened for all time.  And the more my spirit shone with delight, the more others chose to rally round, and some even stayed to tidy up :) 

848 NGUOUY Part 12. OMG! AWOKE WITH A FLASH OF INSIGHT SO BRIGHT AS TO … :)

Holy smokes!
Awoke with a flash of insight so bright
As to illuminate my spirit immeasurably!

My inner strengths did not implode, after all!
It just looked that way and felt that way, so …
I assumed that's what happened until ...
Today, when this insight came to mind:
I remembered that two situations, which seem alike
When life feels dark, may prove very different after
Time has passed and sound reason exists
To reconsider initial perceptions that prove to be misconceived
Due to the fact that surface judgements had been made in haste

Rather than imploding ...
My strengths had sound reason to submerge …
Diving ever more intently into the depths of my mind in hopes of
Penetrating the defensive wall that separates
My conscious mind from the mental block that
Lurks, ghostlike, within my subconscious

As you shall see in posts yet to come
This ghost-like presence proceeded to stalk my mind, relentlessly
Until instinct signaled my attitude of NGUOUY to arise and
Thank God for that, because
As weeks passed, my dogged determination to identify
Whatever was scaring me half to death
Coaxed my defensive wall to
Develop a new crack through which
One vital detail, concerning self discovery
Slipped into my conscious mind … suggesting that
The submergence of strength of spirit and mind
Had worked in tandem to free up one specific fear that's
Haunted me, unknowingly, since I was a teen!
Gosh!  I'm still amazed to see how
One insight leads to the next until
A lengthy train of thought pulls into a station where
The heavy weight of a particular piece of baggage
Is identified, and once a particular source of
Stress is identified and unloaded
Confusion and self doubt, born that particular fear, will not
Distress my wearied mind to distraction, again!
And though I'm eager to disclose the detail that
Pinpointed my most recent (and last) bout with that fear …
Insight into effective story telling suggests that I
Reveal the paralyzing nature of this fear
In the same geyser-like way that insight shot out of me …
So rather than ending today's post
With such an eye opening reveal
I'll leave you to ponder a riddle, instead:

Riddle:
If natural instinct had sucked my strengths into the darkest corner of my brain in hopes of diving ever more deeply into my subconscious until insight into a forgotten memory brightened my conscious mind just enough to spotlight a fear, which, until that moment, had remained unnamed, then what actually imploded instead of highly disciplined, well practiced strengths?

Need a hint?  Okay, here's one, served up on a silver platter:
That which actually imploded
Caused my vulnerability to feel transparently exposed :)

847 NGUOUY Part 11 WHOM TO TRUST WHEN STRENGTHS IMPLODE?

Though you're probably waiting to read what happened
In the aftermath of Will's biopsy
This next train of thought is determined to post itself, today …
Monday, November 25th:

Please know that my smile is sincere and
I know myself to be strong of spirit …
Even so, my sense of personal safety
Is still in the process of healing, suggesting …
My feeling more vulnerable than I'd like to admit

Plain and simple, here's what I'm getting at:
Though fear has lost its chokehold on my sense of logic
Somehow the fact that the depth of my vulnerability
Was unexpectedly and shockingly fully exposed—to me
Made me feel more transparent than ever before
And as much of my vulnerability still feels transparent
A state of watchful, deeply pensive self discovery
Is maintaining protective control over
The greater part of my mind, and …
Here is why that's true:
My identity is processing through change …
Change so profound as to be lasting in nature
And while my identity undergoes metamorphosis
Without benefit of a cocoon … 
My old comfort zone is no where to be found, and
My new comfort zone has yet to develop, so 
Outside of relating this story concerning
Overcoming fear by embracing
A huge leap of faith toward personal growth
(Once again, with insight into pain came gain :) …
My need for introspective quietude continues to outweigh
My natural bent toward connective loquaciousness while
Both sides of my mind work in tandem
To establish an expanded comfort zone into which
I'll eagerly welcome you to feel at home :)
So, if you continue to muster the patience
To buckle up and ride sidekick
As I travel back and forth in my mind's time machine
I believe that before too long, you, too, shall
Come to see how it came to pass that
Fear overwhelmed my sense of logic after
Will's diagnosis caused subconscious trauma to stir
And with subconscious trauma
(Which was totally unrelated to cancer)
Lumbering around, mystifyingly, deep inside …
My brain gave rise to muscle memory, which
Grew so intense as to tighten my throat and constrict my chest
Until I couldn't eat or breathe
And lacking in oxygen and fuel
The computer controlling my sense of logic
Crashed, allowing nameless fear to run wild until …
Self trust arose on its own and acting like a vice, squeezing
Both sides of my brain together, this personal strength
Caused the defensive wall, separating conscious memory from
My mental block, to develop a new crack
And guess what managed to slip through that hairline fracture?
One additional detail, which transformed confusion 
Concerning my reaction into understanding
And with comprehension into the depth of my reaction
That missing detail, which had terrified me during recent weeks
Clarified …
With clarity, fear released it's choke hold on logic
And like a dam come undone, I experienced
A huge and sudden flood of relief for this reason:
My faith in self trust had achieved success over
Paralytic fear, again
And in hopes of absorbing initial feelings of release from
That particular fear more completely
I sought out therapy and
Relied upon the solid support of loved ones until, slowly
Painfully contracted muscle spasms lessened and
As muscle tension relaxed my lungs felt free to expand and
As I was able to inhale oxygen more deeply and easily
My appetite began to improve naturally …
As to my reaching out to family and friends … well …
There's a time to reach out and
A time to feel gratified when solid support pours in …
And that is why the law of averages must be considered
When we define deeper meaning to balance in all things :)

Here's one more thought that buoys my spirit with each passing day:
It's not just reassuring to know whom to trust when strengths implode
It's imperative to know whom to trust when vulnerability is fully exposed
And if, when I'd felt unable to write
It seemed as though I'd dropped your hand
Please think again …
You see, during this time when
Struggling with fear demanded all of my attention
Every drop of my energy turned in
Suggesting none was left to reach out
And that's why your show of support ...
Demonstrated by how many of you turned up upon my return
(Best month in terms of hits, ever!)
Means more to me, today, than I can say :)
So with Thanksgiving's approach
You can believe how deeply thankful I feel!
Your friend,
:) Annie

846 NGUOUY Part 10 TWENTY QUESTIONS ...

It's a wonder that we have any forests left at all …
What makes me say that?
Well, after parking his car next to mine, I see that Will's arms are full of catalogues, pamphlets and junk mail of various sizes.  Why?  Because my husband's pragmatic nature stopped at our neighborhood's communal stack of mailboxes before he drove up the street, pulled his silver BMW into our garage and spied me moving toward the driver's side of his car.

Over the years, I've embraced the patience to accept Will's pragmatistic traits, so choosing to exhale impatience while waiting to hear what the urologist said, I follow my husband, a surgeon of methodical habit, from our garage into the laundry room and through the house as we make our way toward the expansive space of our light, bright, all white-highlighted-with-primary-colors-whimsically decorated kitchen.  Then, while I stand in wait next to Will, who's begun to separate fliers from bills, this man of few words holds out a small square, hand addressed envelop, which will offer up a thank you note.  Upon accepting the envelop, I place it unopened on the center island, reach out for his hand and calmly say, Will, can't the mail wait till we've discussed what the urologist said?  And there it is, question number one ...

Though it's not easy to pry Will's mind loose while he's on task, this man, who's shared my life since I was seventeen, turns toward me and as our eyes meet, my natural instinct to hug him, protectively, emerges, again.  And this, our second nuturing embrace of the day, will lead toward sharing countless more as the next several months unfold.  Then, hand in hand, we make our way out of the kitchen, back through the dining room and into the living room, where we sit, side by side on the couch, one of three, shaped into a conversational 'U'.  Generally, while sitting together, our eyes face our built-in T.V.  Not so, today.

Today, my eyes are glued to the serious expression covering Will's face while I steel my mind to hear that which he seems reluctant to say, as though whatever remains unexpressed is not yet real …

He found a polyp, Annie.
What? A polyp?  But Michael said ...
I know what Michael said, but Dr. B. does this, every day, so his sensitivity has developed to a greater degree.
Does a polyp mean ... cancer?
It means we need to check further.
So what's next?
I need to schedule a biopsy.
Who will do it ... Dr. B?
Yes.
Where?
At his office.
When?
Hopefully, if he has time, within a couple of days.
I'm going with you.
Of course.
It won't be cancer.
Will is quiet ...
So am I

Most of our evening is quiet.  Pensive.
Neither of us feels very hungry
While sitting side by side, watching a favorite show on our DVR
We each get lost in our own thoughts, causing us
To lose track of whatever's taking place in plain sight just like
People who sleepwalk past any truth too painful to face fully awake
And it's then that I come face to face with this fact:
I know nothing about prostate cancer
Unlike breast cancer, I don't even know anyone who's had it …
Except for one cousin, who lives across the country
And I remember wondering if his mind was in order
When he'd chosen not to treat it ...
I remind Will of this and hold my breath, because …
Now I remember one fact concerning prostate cancer:
Generally speaking, it's slow to grow …
At first, Will is quiet
Then he replies, if it's cancer, I'll treat it
Sighing in agreement, I'm relieved hear it
Thoughts of cancer growing inside a person I love makes me shudder
I think of my mother ...

What happens after the biopsy?
Let's take this one step at a time, Annie ...

If Will is a one-step-at-a-time kind of guy, I am the same when seriously alarmed.  In fact, stopping to re-organize my mind to think smart under pressure is the reason why I take time out on the spot.  Taking time out on the spot became a conscious habit after I learned that oxygenation re-energizes my brain to operate effectively.

So if, when stressed, I know myself to be a one-step-at-a-time-kind-of-person, here is what I am not:  I'm not one who runs to my computer to study up on illness.  And this is where the lay person in me differs from the surgeon in Will.

Will gets off the couch, walks into our home office/second guest room
And takes a medical text off of one of the book shelves that climb up to the ceiling.

Being that I'm Will's computer secretary
My husband, partner and dear friend of forty seven years
Calls out, asking me to Google prostate cancer
While choosing which website to open, I ask:  What'dju think of Dr. B?
I liked him.
Did he seem thorough?
My first impression is yes … time will tell … Annie …
We're not telling anyone anything until after the biopsy
I know
If it's cancer, we'll tell the boys first
Of course …  and we'll tell them in person.  But Will … it won't be …

As long as my brain is not frayed by fearsome exhaustion
I hang my hat on pragmatic discretion, buoyed by
A hopeful sense of positive focus …
I mean, really—I'm not called Pollyana for nothin'
Now that Will is ready to mind-wrestle with
The website on the computer screen
I stand up, and he takes my seat
Then, bending to plant a protective kiss on his cheek
I make my pensive way into our bedroom
Turn on a soothing CD, the volume set so low as to be barely audible
Because, somehow, this inspires my mind to relax quite deeply
And having instinctively created a haven that proves peaceful
I reach for my mini iPad
Thus immersing my conscious mind in a heartfelt activity
That deepens my personal sense of security …
Namely, writing or editing a post or checking nations in stats
Or connecting with family and friends via email
And while busying my spirit with positively focused, mental activity …
I'll have no clue whatsoever as to the subconscious state of terror
Which will, over the next two months, proceed to coil up
Deep within my mind until the calendar turns to September …
And day by day, anxiety will deepen until suddenly the cap separating
Tightly coiled terror from my conscious mind snaps off and
Life feels so dark and scary that all sense of logic implodes …

Geez … how'd I leap from July to mid September when
So much happened in between …

845. NGUOUY. Part 9 SICK AND TIRED ...

Guess what?
I've been more than tired
I've been sick and tired
Not sick and tired of writing, editing and analyzing that which I observe so as to absorb insight into my reactions in hopes of aging wisely.  I'm just plain sick.  Head and muscles aching, stomach kinda queasy, just a little sneezy.  Must have inhaled a virus.  Simply put:  Understanding what's wrong is easy when missing details simplify a situation, which had felt too complex to comprehend.  Once I knew that being sick made me tired, I chose to rest my mind and body.  And with thoughts of  directing energy toward healing more quickly, I'll refill that prescription, today, so that  hopefully...

... Twenty questions will pop out of my popper, tomorrow ...
Until then, it's fluids and catching up on zzzzzzzzzzzzzz's, for me ...

PS
Just glanced at stats ...
Broke my record for best month ever ...
With several days to go before calendar flips from November to December :)
Since it's clear that breaking my record for all time highest hits in one month
Would be impossible without your active participation ...
I'd like to shout out a heartfelt Woo-hoo!  inclusive of all of you, everywhere!
Seventy-six nations and counting ...
(Actually, I lost count during those weeks when my mind knotted with fear ...)

Lots to feel thankful for when Thanksgiving rolls out its welcome mat, next week ...
And with hope that the upside of feeling solidly supported
At times when strength wains holds true for you and yours, I remain
Your smiling, sniffling, strong spirited friend,
:) Annie

844 NGUOUY Part 8 GIVE ME A BREAK …

What just happened?
I have no clue how post 821 landed between yesterday's post and today's.
Seriously ... Last time I looked it had been rightfully sandwiched between 820 and 822!
And guess what?
Though this confounding situation mystifies understanding, my mind feels too tired to work toward comprehension.   It's enough that I work, daily, to understand confounding reactions as they emerge, unexpectedly, from my subconscious ...

BTW, in case you think trains of thought penned in my posts have already been absorbed by my conscious mind, that's not necessarily true of my process.  First I write what I've observed; then absorption takes place during the editing process when strings of insight, popping like popcorn, spotlight dark pockets of memory in need of reconsideration.  And each time depth in comprehension brightens my mind, baggage, which I'd unknowingly lugged forward throughout each stage of my life, is identified and following each Aha! moment, my spirit lightens up ... again.  And now I know why it makes good sense for me to edit, again and again.  And again :)

Lots of writing, editing and absorption of insight into what feeds my passion to live life to the fullest, this week …to the point that I've been waking up really tired.  Though I want to describe what I learned while playing twenty questions after Will's first visit with Dr. B, it makes more sense, considering my weariness, to give my mind a break, today … So, will I or won't I make good use of my smarts?  I guess time will tell whether or not I'll follow sage advice that I'd offer to a friend :)

Yesterday, I was so tired as to cancel my afternoon in favor of returning home with thoughts of resting my mind.  Upon walking into my house, what did I do?  Hung my jeans on a hanger in my closet, slipped a comfy, red sweatshirt over my head, pulled on navy yoga pants and climbed into bed where I cuddled up under the quilt with my iPad and edited, yet again.  Oy …

As I awoke feeling no less tired, this morning, and as today is just getting started, let's hope yesterday serves as a learning experience :)

821. IF ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING THEN ...

If attitude is everything, and if many are in need of identifying and reprocessing pessimistic attitudes, leading toward self defeat and if, for the most part, I've been in need of reprocessing idealistic attitudes in hopes of connecting, more often, with a conscious sense of optimistic realism then what might it behoove me to know?

I need to know that change for the better is improbable unless I grow consciously aware of my attitude as well as which attitude is responding to what I feel the need to write and say:
A complacent attitude of ho hum ...
A fearful attitude that limits choices within a narrow minded framework ...

A pessimistic attitude of bah humbug ...

An idealistic attitude filled with unrealistic expectations ... or
An optimistically realistic attitude, suggesting that heartfelt expectations, leading toward success, line up with what is likely to take place when long range goals align with dedication, perseverance and good fortune, translating into:  Never Give Up On Understanding Yourself  :)

843 NGUOUY Part 7 FIRST VISIT WITH UROLOGIST ...

As usual, I'm writing away when the grinding of the garage door signals Will's return.  Though I'd asked to accompany him, his decision to go on his own had been accepted respectfully.

With one ear cocked in readiness to welcome my husband home, my mind is not remotely immersed in 'the zone'.  In fact, so eager do I feel to hear what the urologist had to say that without so much as pushing save, my body spins out of my chair like a top.  And after flying through our office and laundry room, barely stopping long enough to fling open our back door, I find myself standing between Will's car and mine before my husband, looking like the poster boy of good health, has had time to open his door.  As you can imagine, I'm rarely accused of lacking in animated anticipation, whether news be good or bad.

In fact speaking from a place of introspection as often as has become my habit, you'd think that those who assume to know the sum of my traits would expect the unexpected from a spirit that proves as complex as mine  ...

On the other hand, most everyone leads such a busy life as to focus ( and rightly so), upon juggling personal goals with achieving unmet needs, and with that insight concerning human nature waving in the breeze, you'd think we'd embrace the common sense to douse flaming indignation, on the spot, each time pessimistic attitudes darken our best intentions to resolve long-standing conflicts in mutually respectful ways ... unfortunately, we've not.  All too often, tension, crackling through the air, awakens the inner beast, and rather than massaging each other's worries with soothing balms of compassion, we resort to snapping off each other's aching heads.  Good reason to practice 'time-out-on-the-spot.

So anyway back in the garage, I reach up to welcome my husband with an affectionate kiss while readying my mind to play twenty questions for this reason:  If, on a scale of one to ten, your loquacious friend Annie is a twenty when airing informative details, I know Will to be a man who's saving his words in wait for mine to dry up, as mentioned in my very first post.  Therefore, upon engaging in conversation with Will, my mind readies itself for this game of twenty questions, and to this end, experience suggests that I can minimize frustration on both sides by mustering a whale of patience each time my husband offers an answer, which wastes nary a word.

Luckily, right before irritation causes muscle memory to tense up, the 'sageful' spirit of my faithful friend whispers words of wisdom into my ear.  Then quick as a flash, the wide berth of Socrates' wing span soars high into the sky above our small, small world in search of countless others, who like me, must muster high levels of patience in hopes of transforming temper into tenderness ...repeatedly ... And BTW, though I perceive this sage to be my guardian angel, you'll see no halo above my friend's head, because he, who implores us to think deep in hopes of  judging others less harshly, does not elevate his behavior above yours or mine; thus, no righteous saint is he.

Upon cautioning myself to pull back on my reins and employ listening skills while Will doles out bits and pieces of knowledge, I feel grateful for consciously taming my tension by asking questions with attention to TLC, because clearly, Will's answers offer us both sound reason to worry …

842 NGUOUY Part 6. EMOTION PROVES AS UNPREDICTABLE AS PSA LEVELS

Following our first conversation concerning this dread disease of which I find myself utterly ignorant, the waiting game causes our summer to move forward at a snail's pace.

During that trying time while one month crawls toward the next, confounding reactions emerge that compel me to view two people, whose traits I'd thought to know well, in a brand new light  … namely, Will and Yours Truly ...

Following our initial reactions, which prove mutually unsettling, we buoy our  own spirits and each other's with powerful injections of positive focus.  And laughing a bit too much at pretty much nothing, this bravado holds true for months.  Actually, until the end of August.

Luckily, my friend Socrates, who emulates Jiminy's high level of patience while cautioning Pinocchio to learn from experience, swoops down from on high whenever thoughts of cancer invade my conscious mind, tightening my stomach, which makes me feel slightly nauseous.  You know, like if I eat  anything, I might lose my cookies.  So ... if you pay close attention when posts show up, describing changes in my up beat attitude, you may witness angel's wings tickling my ear, as, time and again, the sage sweeps in to save the day by cautioning me to know myself more deeply than ever before ... Until a ghost-like figure, lumbering around inside my subconscious, reaches out from the past,  and grasping a weapon from my junk drawer, clubs my conscious mind half to death ...

And with hopes of never repeating reactions, which, over several weeks, go from bad to worse, you'll see what emerges when my think tank submerges into the deep end of my mind until subconscious memory coughs up one detail, which merges with those that had been deposited into my conscious memory bank, and suddenly, as both sides of my mind act as one, insight into a reaction so confounding as to overwhelm all sense of logic clarifies, right before my eyes… but I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's return to that first week in July, when Will returns home after his first consultation with Dr. B. ...

841 NGUOUY Part 5 QUESTIONS CONCERNING PSA TEST ...

Like a thirsty sponge, my mind absorbs Will's answers to questions, which fly out of my mouth as fast as a popper pops kernels of popcorn into the air ...

As listening to Will stirs my energy source too much to sit still, I arise from my ergonomic chair, as though to fortify myself while listening attentively to that which instinct does not want to hear ...
What's a psa test?
It's a blood test, indicating the health of the prostate ...
Are you saying this test is used to indicate ... prostate cancer?
(And there it is ... hanging in the air, one of the most dreaded words ever uttered anywhere ... the word my parents' generation had feared so deeply as to whisper it with a shudder, because at that earlier time the big C was a death sentence ...)
Yes, Annie.  But my psa is still in the range of normal, so most likely, there's nothing wrong.
What's considered normal?
Anything between negligible up to five.
What's yours?
4.5
So why does Michael want you to see a urologist?
Because my last psa was just over two.
When was that?
Five years ago.
Five years ago?  But Will, you have a physical every year.
Yes, but psa tests are so unreliable that it's not considered necessary to repeat them annually.
Wait, now I'm confused; they're unreliable? ...
Yes.
In what way?
Their findings are not always accurate.
Will, you're losing me ...
Look, Annie, the only reason to have a psa test, annually, is to indicate whether levels are rising.
Well, doesn't that seem important in the light of what I'm hearing, today?
With a sigh, Will replies, It's water under the bridge, so let's just take it from here ...

Though a sudden burning sensation shoots through me, Will's tone cues me to rein in this natural reaction to cast blame, so pausing to calm my mind and refocus on problem-solving, I ask my husband and dear friend, What happens, next?
I'll make an appointment with the urologist Michael suggested ... and don't worry, Annie, because during my physical, Michael did not feel a polyp ...
Well, thank goodness for that!  What do you know about this urologist?
So far, I like what I've heard.  After seeing Michael, I stopped at the hospital for lunch and asked around in the doctor's lounge.  Evidently, Dr. B has a sterling reputation.  He had prostate cancer ten years ago at the age of fifty, and following his surgery, he limited his practice solely to studying up on the most current methods for curing this cancer.
So he's done nothing but prostrate for ten years?
Yes.
Wow!  That very reassuring ...
I thought so, too ...

With that vote of confidence, the positively focused side of my conscious mind gains control over my thought processor.  As anxiety relaxes into the wings, most of my muscle tension does, 
too ... And in this way, while opening my arms to welcome Will into a warm hug, does the first inning of this game of wait-and-see begin ...

840. NGUOUY ... Part 4 … Hmmm …

Two things, right off the bat:
Post 839 had lots to say, so I did quite a bit of editing in hopes of simplifying the complexity of yesterday's train of thought.

Secondly, please bear with me, because I awoke with one more train of thought stealing center stage, suggesting that Annie and Will must wait at bit longer in the wings   …

As the potency of subconscious wounds shapes up into fear, and as unrelenting frustration elevates toward anger, emotional TNT cannot be left to fester in an unidentified state, overlong, or one day, an explosion of tightly coiled tension will overwhelm all sense of logic within a deeply stressed mind.

Upon seriously considering that line of reasoning, I can't help but wonder how you would peg yourself:   Are you a person who, upon feeling stress burning inside, silently heaps blame for unhappiness onto others until your nervous system explodes?  Or are you, like me, a person who, upon feeling emotionally overwhelmed, heaps blame unknowingly upon oneself until my nervous system implodes?

As a self professed student of human nature, here is why I'll quest toward gaining insight into both sides of my nature in hopes of shoring up half baked strengths, forever:  It's a fact that as we age, life's greatest challenges don't get any easier!

In fact, emotional climate is often as unpredictable as a tornado touching down, suggesting that we each check inside, from time to time, in hopes of identifying partial accountability when changes take place, which you'd not consciously have chosen, concerning a relationship that's deeply valued on both sides.  Though many relationships wain because of misunderstandings, the most stealthy relationship killer of all time goes by the name of Complacency.

And having clarified that, let's make effective use of story telling to ripen our sense of insight into the wisdom of 'balance in all things', which implies that we acknowledge vulnerabilities hidden behind our strengths :)

Though shoring up unidentified vulnerabilities takes a whale of patience, intensive concentration, and a healthy dose of humility—every goal achieved by my strength of spirit is worth the effort I choose to expend, most especially at those times when all sense of thriving plunges unexpectedly toward barely surviving—and having expressed today's train of thought, let's hope both sides of my mind feel free to welcome Annie and Will onto center stage when the sun comes up tomorrow …
So sayth, your friend, Annie :)

839. NGUOUY ... Part 3

How often do you think about the food chain while watching chicken, cattle, and Mary's sweet, little, newly slaughtered lamb chops rolling along the conveyor belt, encased in plastic wrap, while checking out at the supermarket?  Rarely if ever, I'll bet.  Same with me.

Sooo—if I don't squirm while purchasing, seasoning, cooking, slicing, serving, salivating, chewing, swallowing and digesting the choicest cuts of God's creatures then when do conscious thoughts about the food chain give me the chills?  In the middle of the night when you are fast asleep, and I was too, until an adorable, little critter, like a cotton tail or prairie dog, or some other underdog is screaming for pity until that pack of cyotes end their feast by howling at the moon.  And if for some reason, I'm sleeping so soundly that the screams of small fry, uh, I mean small prey fail to awaken me, you can bet that the howling of wild beasts, nearby, does the trick.  Either way, whenever I find myself rudely awakened by predator feasting upon the tender flesh of vulnerable prey, my think tank needs to refocus away from flooding with empathy for God's defenseless creatures in hopes of falling quickly back into a peaceful sleep.

If asked why I feel empathetic rather than sympathetic while covering my ears to the shrill screams of helpless creatures caught in a web as tightly wound round them as a fly that spies the spider closing in, I'd reference the powers of association:  While listening to prey being systematically devoured at the foot of the mountain outside my bedroom window, my thought processor can't help but zero in on my struggle to understand portions of the mental block that stimulates muscle memory to tremble with fear whenever the little that I can recall concerning that traumatic experience—which Mother Nature slipped into my subconscious when I was too small to defend myself from harm—oozes through my defensive wall, which becomes ever more permeable as EMDR therapy inspires my conscious mind to muster the courage to entice my subconscious to release 'forgotten' memories, which Mother Nature had thought to bury until my mind matured enough for me to understand character traits, which, shaped by fear, developed into vulnerabilities that my ego hid (from me) behind that my academy award winning persona until my mask shattered and the false front, which had fooled everyone into seeing me as as self assured, imploded … Whew!

Thank goodness, the coyotes do not stalk their prey beneath my window on a nightly basis.  Most nights, the desert, surrounding my home, feels as deceptively peaceful as though small creatures are waltzing to music made by crickets.  However, on those nights when fear and tension cause quaking sensations of wakefulness, I must stop thinking of myself as prey, suggesting that my train of thought needs to switch tracks, fast.  So to that end, I've trained my mind to numb empathetic reactions to small creatures screeching in anguish for survival by choosing to refocus upon common sense born of logic, because engaging with logic disconnects my conscious mind from empathetic emotion by concentrating on acknowledging the universal concept of survival of the fittest.

 Each time I agree to accept reality on Mother Nature's terms, meaning that life throughout the world has always been brutal, dangerous and far from perfect, my objectivity, concerning that painful truth, deepens, as well.  Though the cyote and javelina are not nearly as cute as those little critters they hunt down and devour, every living creature, large and small, cute and ugly, survives by relying upon instinct and cunning while satisfying basic needs.  BTW, every living creature includes people, who, like the coyote—which feels no guilt—make cunning use of defense mechanisms, like denial, to wipe our memory banks clean of all accountability after satisfying personal needs by taking advantage of or casting blame upon or dismissing the needs of another, who, for some illusive reason, seems a bit too eager to please.

Though attaching to logic eases my mind enough to fall back to sleep, logic, devoid of sympathetic emotion, does not provide a nurturing and thus effective response when a deeply valued relationship is slipping toward a state of flux …. you see, all living things change, meaning that, thriving spirits are known to take sudden dives when unforeseen change unsettles the nerves.  And like living things, relationships thrive or merely survive in exactly that way …

Please note that I do not explain my take on people feeding off of each other's vulnerabilities to condone insensitivity to one another but rather to address yet another painful truth:  Each time my understanding of circumstances—which led me to evolve into a world class pleaser—deepens, I am better able to balance my desire to feed the needs of others without dismissing my own.  And that change is truly significant when confounding circumstances cause me to experience inner conflict, today ...

As I work to achieve this profound change in my identity, my persona is not able to fool me as easily as it had in the past, when I'd no clue as to how often subconscious fear had made me feel as vulnerable as prey.  Though instinct suggests that my personal sense of safety had sound reason to feel seriously compromised when I was young, in truth, no one person was at fault as much as a general sense of naïveté, concerning both sides of human nature, all around.  In light of that insight, it should come as no surprise that instinct inspired me to devote my life to studying human nature.  And thus do I study my own.

As you shall see in stories down the road, all minds are capable of rewriting memory, and rewriting memory may result from egocentric fear more often than anyone wants to know.  As the wounded ego is pre-programmed to employ defensive ploys, I choose to gain insight into both sides of my nature for this reason:  The more I come to see my vulnerabilities playing hide and seek with me, the more my mindset opens to compassion for vulnerabilities hiding behind the persona of others, and each time my attitude is shaped by compassion, forgiveness is mine to give.  Once forgiveness for past transgressions flows freely from my heart and mind, I no longer see others as predators with me as prey.  Why?  Because compassion and forgiveness are hard won strengths, which show up whenever my sense of self trust is intact.

Each time I think to forgive the cyote for devouring dinner neath my bedroom window, both sides of my mind feel peacefully relaxed though Mother Nature's food chain remains as unchanged as when crashing thunder and flashing lightning inspired Noah to create an ark as safe haven for all creatures that roam the earth … hmmm …

If we pause to consider the power of association, again, then why might thoughts of Noah, creating an ark in hopes of providing all vulnerable creatures safe haven from confounding storms that rain down from above, pop out of my mind, right now? … Could it be that Noah, who felt instinctively inspired to create an ark, providing a universal sense of safety from devastating floods, may be likened to Annie, who feels instinctively inspired to create mind bending posts, concerning confounding storms raging within?  I mean when we stop to think about it, why does Annie check stats to see how many of God's lambs and lions throughout our small, small world are seriously considering her thoughts before she turns off the light and snuggles peacefully neath her colorful quilt—purchased on sale (of course) at Pottery Barn—in the still of the night … 76 nations and counting :)

In recent years, I've chosen to embrace an attitude that accepts both sides of human nature, most especially at those times when someone I love smacks me in the face, figuratively or literally, undeservedly.  And if, during those confounding confrontations, I choose to turn the other cheek, please make no mistake—I don't turn the other cheek to accept another undeserved smack but to remind my defensive reaction to take a spontaneous time out on the spot, thus ensuring that I don't smack back in some passive aggressive way.  You see, defensive reactions prove natural to one and all, so this choice to muzzle mine often proves quite a feat, because, speaking from experience—practice does not make perfect!

Though exchanging smack for smack is natural, much that feels natural produces change for the worse, and that's why I work, daily, to maintain poise under pressure, in hopes of responding in a self disciplined, loving manner no matter how often defensive assumptions of birds of a feather darken their perceptions of my best intentions.  And here is why I remain eternally thankful for having placed The Line Of Control in the tool box that keeps my conscience well oiled:  Each time the positively focused side of my spirit directs my mind to love less defensively, more objectively, my heartfelt reactions disprove that which darkened imaginations conjure up—repeatedly.  And thus does clarity into universal vulnerability enable me to offer up a true sense of forgiveness, resulting in a shared sense of mutually respectful tranquility more often, today, than ever before …

Each time my therapist asks where I feel safest, my answer remains the same:  At times when emotion consumes my sense of logic, I create a sense of safety by consulting both sides of my brain.  While thinking how best to create a sense of compatibility between empathy and logic, I am better able to draw forth inner strength wherever I am.  And now you know why I Never Give Up On Understanding Myself.

In case you're wondering why I've digressed away from my storyline in favor of writing about defensive reactions, which made me feel akin to prey—well, the puzzling nature of this post is sure to make as much sense to you as it does to me once my true tale of these last four months gets underway.  And having offered you reason to ponder upon my digression, let's return to the scene where Annie's blue eyes have flown wide open and her body has tensed while her mind hangs in suspense to hear Will's reply to her question:  What's wrong?

Annie, do you remember that I had a physical earlier in the week?
Yes.
Well, Michael (Will's internist) called my office, today.  He wants me to see a urologist.
Why?
It's probably nothing, but he feels uneasy about my PSA.

Having wed this surgeon when he was a diligent med student, forty-seven years ago, I know Will to be far from alarmist; in fact, he can be a bit too stoic when blood tests indicate the possibility of a serious physical irregularity.  When others leap to worst conclusions, concerning illness, my husband proves to be a let's-wait-and-see-what-develops kind of guy.

On the other hand, my profession has enhanced the accuracy of my sensitivity to reading body language and facial expressions, and I note that Will's body is tense and his eyes are surprising dull for one who professes to feeling relaxed about his PSA.  Though back in July, I didn't have a clue as to what a PSA test measures, instinct alerts my sense of awareness to the fact that we're about to dive into unexplored territory.  And thus do I listen attentively while my husband, the surgeon, offers up knowledgable anwers to the line up of questions that are bumping against each other inside my head …