November 7, 2014

The Friday night injections promise to be an enormous gift. They are supposed to slow the progression of the condition which in itself is a medical miracle. While they are extremely expensive, they are paid for by a funding source. They weren't available twenty years ago. Two nurses have come to my home on three occasions to teach me how to administer the injections. How fortunate am I?
The first two months I experienced flu-like symptoms or depression. Lately, I haven't noticed any side effects. This month on Friday my thinking gradually turned more hopeless. Early Saturday morning, I recognized this as resulting from the drugs. But also I noticed that my own  fears and insecurities have been amplified. My regular stuff in bold colors for me to look at.
This consideration with Joanie of self-publishing brought up the heaviness I've carried about being not accepted or being judged or being dismissed. Lots of unhappy memories from years and decades ago have arisen. I choose to let them go but I admit they have been frequent. The possibility of allowing myself to be known by a wider audience again elicits those concerns. Am I inviting disparagement on a greater scale?
Constrictions from fear make me mad. I don't have any more time to hide. My alignment with Source is enough to trust. I don't need approval from anyone. I'm putting my work out there because this is my life's contribution. This is who I am and I am good enough.

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