Dear Bloggers,
Today I am taking a day off to celebrate another year that lies past me.
Some would call it the day of the big things that came to us. On of the first things that i remember is that we switched from normal black and white to colour television, and we could receive more channels and we had a telephone as not everyone had a phoneline yet. I got my first bicycle and later a moped. And I was able to vote and get my driving licences. I took the decession to go sailing as there was not that much work at the time. We bought our first house and got our children. I have to say that in those 15.705 days that I am on this cruel planet.
As there were also bad things that i remember Martin Luther King was killed, the Vietnam war, the hazardous fire on the Scandinavian Star, the disaster with the Herald of Free Enterprise, the fireworks explosion at Enschede, the attack on the twin towers, the tsunami in Indonesia and her surrounding countries and of course things that happened just around me that loved ones past away from us.
It left happy memories and some deep scars in my inner person.
“Maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had, and what you've learned from them, and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.”
Here are some facts that might be seen as useful information to some of my readers but maybe it isn’t.
· You are exactly 43 years 1 week 2 days 9 hours 40 minutes 57 seconds old.
· You will receive your next birthday gift in 14 hours 19 minutes 3 seconds later.
· If your hair were never cut since 13.March.1968, it would be 6.266 m. today.
· If your nails were never cut since 13.March.1968, they would be 1.555 m. today.
· An apple tree seeded on 13.March.1968, bore 3,818.536 kg. apple till today. Its contribution to economy is €15,236.0 and it fed 6,407 people. We hope that in your life you, as a human being, achieved more than that poor apple tree.
March 12, 2011
March 6, 2011
Yes, spring is on it's way
Hang in there! Spring will be here soon.
Dear Bloggers,
Finally winter is moving out as cold and moisty weather is not my best friend I am looking forward to the Spring and Summertime again. The best part of spring is the great smells of new life in the garden. I think that this is natures best period of the yearly cyclus.
I noticed a few daffodils around town blooming this week and was happy to see two in my garden just starting to open. Another first bloom of spring is a lowly dandelion but it does look cheery after months of winter. I'll wait awhile and enjoy it before i pull it. The other sign of the season change is the longer days. Some days it's still pretty chilly but I get to spend some time each day doing some garden chores. What a great way to finish the work day. So here is the first daffodil that i saw.
It seems like a jibe in this weather. The icy blasts that hit you as soon as you leave towards the parking to grab your bus, the mornings are stone cold and the passengers are happy to see you. It is only –2 degrees celcius but the wind is biting cold. The morning dash of coffee and a loaf of bread did nothing to smash the calm blankness of sleep of my wife and kids. Mornings on the bus on Monday are a kind of zombie march. My head is not fully functioning yet, what can you expect at 06:30 in the morning. I have an automatic path that I follow on the route that I have to do as if I am trundling down a fixed railway line.
By the time the cold hands grab the steeringwheel and you drive to your starting point, you see people outside the bus doors on push bikes in that freezing cold weather and you are just partially awake, and my defrosted body enters again to go into chilling. Then into traffic, making little jokes with the passengers, most of the regulars are feeling home on the bus. After my two support rides that I need to do I unload the passengers and drive back to the garage, Sit down. Time to drink coffee.
I like to come home and write as soon as I can. It is already evening as I write this. I wonder, sometimes if the reason that I write is for the following reasons---is it Writers and the act of writing,--- or is it killing my devotional time, as some sort of way to enter aloneness and prepare for final silence? Or is it a well formed habit only designed to make products that I temporarily own and then discard? What is the purpose of weekly writing?
I’m not sure. I think that writing is a way to clarify my mind and my miserable life—as I am only here passing time, like everybody else. Today I write something down; this is true for this minute, but then the next thing I write contradicts what I said or thought about three days ago. Writing is sometimes difficult and somehow endlessly disruptive. When I consider this fact of lack of agreement in anything I write down--the fact that one day--I may be all for one position and the next --not--what this tells me is that I am mirroring my mind that is also as fluid as the writing. In other words, my mind is a thinking machine that functions on chemicals.
What do they do to store--memory--logical thinking processes--emotions--the self? And if everything is stored in neurons--how are they stored? Is memory a simple stockpile of chemicals with half lives that are reached continually and progressively until no memories are finally left? If so --this makes the act of writing down --critica But if what we write down is contradictory, emotional rather than rational, considered useless by our society--is it still worth it to be writing devotedly--as if despite these deficiencies in textual depictions of a mind--it is still a worthy practice to engage in the writing down of a mind?
I suppose this decision is based on what you value. Do you --if you have sufficient time--value working at something that will return you more goods and services--or do you in your free time prefer to do what makes you see clearly into your own small life and its attachments? It depends entirely on value and the type of life you want to live. This type of writing is not valuable if you would rather paint or draw; if you need to work on a career; if you prefer other activities. But if the main method of learning for you (and your main interest is learning) is to use words in multiple ways--then writing is a weekly practice that unknots and untangles a great many small minor problems a human being can encounter in a life. It also serves to waken up that human being to luck and good fortune.
I only think about nature sometimes when I am driving and my mind is at ease. After a few days I will sit down and write about it. I only think about the good fortune to be married to a kind, loving woman like my wife and the extreme luck of having two daughters, when others have no kids. Writing practice inevitably introduces you to the grace of your own extreme luck in being born into such a life of privilege.
Even the long winter is a lucky matter for it makes spring and summer like desserts after a long tedious meal of rubbery food. Outside the winter wheels and grinds us down to nothing. The pond that is still filled with a thin layer of ice that is close to my house.
Winter is the ultimate season. The poor trees stick out like old timers TV antennae and looking very dark on the horizon. And winter paints them with icy colours, It is all very beautiful –if you are sitting in the writing room like I am out of the battering fists of the wind, sympathetically appreciating the troubles of the ice cold conditions that nature has to go through, like the the locked in birds, the hares and deer that live right near here along in the bloody forest that gives them also shelter as well.
Usually I’m hanging on the couch together with my wife and watch some Tv at this time of the day. But today, I’m sitting behind the computer and my wife is leaving me alone without any resistance or whatsoever. The weather is a powerful incentive to writing—encouraging me by the hammering cold windy fists on the house walls. Crocusses and daffodils are showing their face that is the sign by the extended care that says—Spring is coming soon—but just not today.
The Old Sailor,
Dear Bloggers,
Finally winter is moving out as cold and moisty weather is not my best friend I am looking forward to the Spring and Summertime again. The best part of spring is the great smells of new life in the garden. I think that this is natures best period of the yearly cyclus.
I noticed a few daffodils around town blooming this week and was happy to see two in my garden just starting to open. Another first bloom of spring is a lowly dandelion but it does look cheery after months of winter. I'll wait awhile and enjoy it before i pull it. The other sign of the season change is the longer days. Some days it's still pretty chilly but I get to spend some time each day doing some garden chores. What a great way to finish the work day. So here is the first daffodil that i saw.
It seems like a jibe in this weather. The icy blasts that hit you as soon as you leave towards the parking to grab your bus, the mornings are stone cold and the passengers are happy to see you. It is only –2 degrees celcius but the wind is biting cold. The morning dash of coffee and a loaf of bread did nothing to smash the calm blankness of sleep of my wife and kids. Mornings on the bus on Monday are a kind of zombie march. My head is not fully functioning yet, what can you expect at 06:30 in the morning. I have an automatic path that I follow on the route that I have to do as if I am trundling down a fixed railway line.
By the time the cold hands grab the steeringwheel and you drive to your starting point, you see people outside the bus doors on push bikes in that freezing cold weather and you are just partially awake, and my defrosted body enters again to go into chilling. Then into traffic, making little jokes with the passengers, most of the regulars are feeling home on the bus. After my two support rides that I need to do I unload the passengers and drive back to the garage, Sit down. Time to drink coffee.
I like to come home and write as soon as I can. It is already evening as I write this. I wonder, sometimes if the reason that I write is for the following reasons---is it Writers and the act of writing,--- or is it killing my devotional time, as some sort of way to enter aloneness and prepare for final silence? Or is it a well formed habit only designed to make products that I temporarily own and then discard? What is the purpose of weekly writing?
I’m not sure. I think that writing is a way to clarify my mind and my miserable life—as I am only here passing time, like everybody else. Today I write something down; this is true for this minute, but then the next thing I write contradicts what I said or thought about three days ago. Writing is sometimes difficult and somehow endlessly disruptive. When I consider this fact of lack of agreement in anything I write down--the fact that one day--I may be all for one position and the next --not--what this tells me is that I am mirroring my mind that is also as fluid as the writing. In other words, my mind is a thinking machine that functions on chemicals.
What do they do to store--memory--logical thinking processes--emotions--the self? And if everything is stored in neurons--how are they stored? Is memory a simple stockpile of chemicals with half lives that are reached continually and progressively until no memories are finally left? If so --this makes the act of writing down --critica But if what we write down is contradictory, emotional rather than rational, considered useless by our society--is it still worth it to be writing devotedly--as if despite these deficiencies in textual depictions of a mind--it is still a worthy practice to engage in the writing down of a mind?
I suppose this decision is based on what you value. Do you --if you have sufficient time--value working at something that will return you more goods and services--or do you in your free time prefer to do what makes you see clearly into your own small life and its attachments? It depends entirely on value and the type of life you want to live. This type of writing is not valuable if you would rather paint or draw; if you need to work on a career; if you prefer other activities. But if the main method of learning for you (and your main interest is learning) is to use words in multiple ways--then writing is a weekly practice that unknots and untangles a great many small minor problems a human being can encounter in a life. It also serves to waken up that human being to luck and good fortune.
I only think about nature sometimes when I am driving and my mind is at ease. After a few days I will sit down and write about it. I only think about the good fortune to be married to a kind, loving woman like my wife and the extreme luck of having two daughters, when others have no kids. Writing practice inevitably introduces you to the grace of your own extreme luck in being born into such a life of privilege.
Even the long winter is a lucky matter for it makes spring and summer like desserts after a long tedious meal of rubbery food. Outside the winter wheels and grinds us down to nothing. The pond that is still filled with a thin layer of ice that is close to my house.
Winter is the ultimate season. The poor trees stick out like old timers TV antennae and looking very dark on the horizon. And winter paints them with icy colours, It is all very beautiful –if you are sitting in the writing room like I am out of the battering fists of the wind, sympathetically appreciating the troubles of the ice cold conditions that nature has to go through, like the the locked in birds, the hares and deer that live right near here along in the bloody forest that gives them also shelter as well.
Usually I’m hanging on the couch together with my wife and watch some Tv at this time of the day. But today, I’m sitting behind the computer and my wife is leaving me alone without any resistance or whatsoever. The weather is a powerful incentive to writing—encouraging me by the hammering cold windy fists on the house walls. Crocusses and daffodils are showing their face that is the sign by the extended care that says—Spring is coming soon—but just not today.
The Old Sailor,
February 24, 2011
Are you still able to work wit FMS
Dear Bloggers,
For nearly everyone I know with Fibromylagia, it is not the pain, or the fatigue, or even the restless sleep that frustrates them the most, it is the feeling of no longer being productive or able to contribute to a normal society. Also the misunderstanding of the illness by other family members leaves deep emotional scars. How many of us have had to quit our jobs or restructure our lives completely because of this illness? Sorry it is not an illness but a so called syndrome and it is not recogneized by the beneficiary services. It is not a health issue but a mental problem. Most of us I am sure. And for those of you still maintaining your lives and careers, it is through sheer strength and will that you are able to do so.
For myself, Fibromyalgia has forced me into a change. I was working in a passenger ships reception at a high-pressure, fast-paced ferry company when I first was diagnosed in 2009. For months I tried to hang onto the position I had spent several years building within the company, but ultimately I had to let it go. It was not an easy choice to make, but it definitely led to an improvement in my life and allowed me to manage my symptoms without the stress and pressure I faced daily as a receptionist. And yes I loved my stressy job.

I became a bus driver and worked for a temps office, able to set my own schedule, and as long as I met or exceeded my and their goals, I could work as much or as little as I needed. Some weeks I worked full-time, others I put in less than 20 hours. My position required me to drive a lot, but all of my rides were within driving distance so I became a master at routing myself and to take advantage of my "good" days and I had enough breaks to recharge for the next run. The planner knew that he could count on me if he needed someone to fill in.

For several years I was pretty succesful and even thrived in my ships career. At the time it was a very compatible career for me. Then in 2009, as I was sailing to one of my destanies, I was hardly able to get out of my bunk, I waved it away as it was nothing serious and I probably would get the flue. And the comfortable life I had spent the last ten years of building up my carrer was shattered in an instant. Even though I had been living with Fibromyalgia for ten years, I had no idea how relatively manageable my symptoms had been. Sure I had some bad days and debilitating flares, but this was only in the winter season. But nothing like I began experiencing after this bloody morning.
So once again I was faced with a decision. I knew I could no longer manage my sailing territory and my health. I could have pursued the opportunity to go on disability, but I was afraid if I allowed myself to be labeled "disabled" I would start to believe that I no longer had anything to contribute. When I ended up at the UWV office they straight away told me that there are no benefits for this syndrome called FMS. This was puzzling me as the Danish government declared me not able to work a full time job and I was also entitled to a disability pension. It made me angry and confused as I was sitting in between two different opinions. And I made the choice to work as a bus driver but in my own speed. Please do not get me wrong I honor and respect those of you who have and need the security of disability, it was simply my personal decision to eliminate that as one of my choices. So what to do then?

For the first time in my life, I decided to follow my passion for driving. I didn't just wake up one day and decide though. It came about out of the natural progression of me trying to manage and improve my health. Things were pretty dark immediately after my job loss. As the weeks and months past, I continued to feel worse, not better. My despair led me to go and do the driving course and exams needed to become a bus driver and to get my license of course. I started driving for the summer period, and this continued until the 31st of December last year.Unfortunate the contract was finished.

Thinking about my health and wellbeing, and then a weird thing happened - my life began to come back into focus again. I felt like I had a voice and a purpose again. And then slowly, I started for an other region in the same company again. Maybe this was not the best choice that I have made. As all other temps I am just another number where no one is happy and among the ones with a steady job sickness is up to more then 10%. I would call it a low social people management close to modern slavery.
It is by far my least lucrative career, but that doesn't even matter to me. I am healing through my driving, I am reaching out to all of you that there is always something that you still can do, and I am doing something I am passionate about. So do I thank Fibromyalgia for bringing me to this spot in my life. I don't think I will, even though I believe everything happens for a reason, and that I am exactly where I am meant to be, I also think my path was a little too painful for me to be grateful. Maybe I will just be grateful that I made it through.
So this is my story, but I am really curious to learn about all of you. Are you able to work while managing your Fibromyalgia symptoms? Do you simply push through it, or have you made adjustments to allow for the unpredictable nature of Fibromyalgia? Have you had a career change? Are you on disability? And if you are on disability are you still able to earn a supplemental income? Any thoughts you have on working with Fibromyalgia, I would really appreciate if you shared them in the comments. As you might have guessed I am planning to find another place to work again, all in quest for better health and wellbeing.
The Old Sailor,
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