PATRON SAINT OF THE MENTALY ILL
If you have trouble with anxiety, depression, PTSD or any other mental illness, then Saint Dumphna is your gal. Her father was so crazy he agreed to marry his own daughter when his wife died and then became so obsessed with the idea that he chased her to where she had fled and killed her because she refused the preposterous (and revolting) idea.
When friends ask me how is it that I seem to have so much "bad luck," I remind them of all the saints like Dymphna who had TERRIBLE lives. Nearly every saint had an awful set of life circumstances. That is what is so inspiring about them. Despite the gross difficulties, they clung to The Lord with everything they had - their heart, soul and mind. In the process, there is much healing.
I myself have PTSD, so Saint Dymphna is a favorite of mine. The examples of saints like her are what keeps me buoyed up! I highly recommend a little meditation on the lives of the saints. Google Saint Dymphna to learn more about her.
SOME GOOD NEWS
I have noticed that my eyesight continues to improve and I am crediting it, partially, to being more disciplined with taking my vitamins and supplements, as well as eating better. Medical studies prove that these things improve a patient's chances of keeping some of their vision. It is very expensive, though, and my Social Security is rather modest, so please consider helping me with a bit of food from my AMAZON WISH LIST
LOVING MY NEIGHBOR
One of my neighbors has Parkinson's Disease and has had it for 29 years. She is doing REMARKABLY well with it, considering how long she has had it, and she has gone even so far as to get electrodes placed in her brain to prevent the tremors from shaking her to bits.
I was coming back from the Walgreens with some Coca Cola for her, when I saw a young man drive his motorcycle up onto the grass where we are supposed to walk our dogs. I have seen his motorcycle parked there many times before, and I believe he is responsible for the deep grooves into which I have fallen and nearly broke my ankle several times. Also he is responsible for the lamp getting pulled down, as I have seen his motorcycle chained to it many times.
I was walking to my mailbox, using my wheeled walker with the nice big seat and stopped and asked him if he was one of my neighbors. He was about 6 feet tall with dark curly hair, wearing bright red plastic sunglasses.
He was very rude.
I explained that if he left his motorcycle in this spot he could have it towed away. He screamed and yelled at me, called me "dirty English," started complaining about Americans. His language was just filthy. His accent sounded Dutch or Germanic to me.
Although I was calm and restrained, fairly soft spoken, the man was just flipping out. Mostly he swore, in very vulgar language, calling me many names and making reference to my being "dirty English" or "f...ing American" and making a lot of statements about how awful Americans are. I remember thinking that if he does not like Americans, he could go home - wherever home is, but of course I did not say that. Who knows what he would do?
I just told him, "look, I am just trying to help you." (This was not entirely true, since I was really more concerned about the ditches his motorcycle had been making in the grass for the last year or two.)
"Where the F...k am I supposed to park?" he screamed at me. I pointed out the visitor parking and then he really became incensed. More profane language ensued. He did not want to park in the visitor parking because he was convinced someone would steal his motorcycle because there was nothing to tie it to.
It is usually not a good idea to escalate this sort of thing, so I did not reciprocate, but as he continued to scream and swear at me, I did ask him, "do you talk to your grandmother like that?" He stopped for a moment. He must have had a nice grandma.
I went to my mailbox and then started back toward my apartment, walking slowly with my little wheeled walker. He apologized to me but then went right back to screaming and swearing at me. I don't know what made him become so unhinged.
So far, I had seen him park there only on Sunday in the late afternoon and at no other time. It was some kind of appointment, and perhaps he wasn't even visiting someone in this complex. It occurred to me that perhaps he works somewhere cloe by and he became unhinged because he was expected somewhere at a particular time and was pressed for time. Perhaps that was it.
Anyway, he put the chain into a little case on the side of the motorcycle and drove off the property. It occurred to me that, considering he had such an inappropriate response to my mild-mannered approach, perhaps he also has some mental illness.
Dear Saint Dymphna, please protect, soothe and heal everyone with mental illnesses that is either temporary or a permanent feature of their psyche!
Silver Rose
All rights reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment