Lotto.

With my recent luck I spontaneously bought a lottery ticket, testing the universe to see if my luck would hold. I opted for a Euro millions ticket for the same night Tuesday, I have never tried that one before. Now days later, I wonder if I won, ha, yes I know it is doubtful, but just now I can inhabit the world of limbo, where I can imagine the prize being mine. That’s my problem, on the rare times I have purchased a ticket, I have wished and almost expected to win. I have once or twice won another free try but never any money.

I have always believed in earning your way in life, that hard work and commitment will lead to wealth and comfort, of course I have never achieved these and secretly I have prayed to the universe to send me free money. What would I do with my winnings, well this I do know, I would open a residential centre for chronic illness support. I would live a good live and share my luck with others by giving back to society and helping the M.E society. I would use my knowledge of this illness to reach others and who knows where that might lead me. Well I doubt I will ever win a fortune and so I must look at these dreams and try to build something of my life towards fulfilling them without money.

Who knows maybe this ticket will be the lucky one, we all have a chance, right? You must be ‘in it to win it’ and all those other advertising slogans that draw us in and tempt us. What is the national lottery really? Isn’t it just another tax on the poor? Which socio-economic group is most prone to buying into the illusion? Those with less are the ones to take such chances, the desperate are most prone to take the gamble, it’s such a small amount of money, who does it hurt? Scratch cards are a temptation to those in need, those who work hard and still have nothing, the money raised goes to support good causes, win win all round or is it?

So many charities fill the void left by our government, RNLI, why is this a charity with volunteers rescuing people at sea, why isn’t this a paid organisation? Other charities too exist for the people, providing support which is lacking in our societal systems. In other words we are paying to serve our own needs, therefore, its a taxation, not a harmless fun industry afterall. Those most in need pay most. GGGrrrr, I am getting started, and still I am praying to the universe to make me rich. This is exactly how it works.

I selected my numbers at total random, with no thought behind it. How many of us have routines for our choices, important numbers and dates to use, we are all buying in to the system. This time I left it to the universe to guide me, being already lucky that day, I barely looked at the numbers, five 1-50 and 2 lucky stars.

Maybe I am already a millionaire and don’t even know it?

Time to check and end the dream.

Wish me luck,

Chris. xx

Lucky.

Well I am lucky! Yes me,I am lucky, I do not have cancer and it seems I do not have a lump anymore. I attended my breast clinic appointment to indeed have my life force reaffirmed. The Registrar examining my breasts found no cause for alarm, she explained that my HRT had probably caused changes, wey hey, phew, I knew it, Yes!

Still I had to move on down the line of the clinics procedures, to have a mammogram and an ultra sound scan, but hey, this nightmare is over!

It was a strange experience attending this clinic, it was all very friendly and also sombre. I arrived at the main reception, with time to spare, lucky really as the taxi had been late, not lucky, just well prepared and planned for. A printed ticket directed me to Outpatients one, here I sat for less that ten minutes, I was just starting to enjoy a book on my kindle, settled in for a long wait, but it was quick, a nurse called my name and led me to another waiting area, Waiting 3, gave me a questionnaire to complete.

Here were the other women, all huddled in the chairs, silent, waiting nervously, wearing strange clothes, the letter had advised loose clothing and you could tell they had all attempted this. Me I was bra less, with a loose shirt and jumper.

One by one we were called down the corridor. The atmosphere was serious, the only sounds came from the kind and deliberately compassionate chatter of the staff. I could feel their consideration, they knew this was scary, maybe life changing and they were respectful. I was feeling cheerful, happy to be here, already positive it wouldn’t be me getting the bad news, like my body had already told me so.

My name, disturbed my book page again, this time I was led to a doctors room, she introduced herself and asked what brought me here, stupid question, I hate those. ‘Oh my knee’s been playing up duck, could you take a look?’ No jokes really, I quietly explained my journey to this point instead. She went through the sheet checking my answers, I was aware that there seemed to be no worrying markers in my history, no family members past, no signs of breast problems, that pleased me. My fears were evaporating rapidly. I whipped my tops off for a brief examination by her with a nurse present, she was careful and gentle and found nothing. ‘Whoohoo, lets get out of here!’ screamed in my head. She explained that HRT can cause changes that come and go, but still told me I would have the scans to be sure, and to come back any time I feel anything new.

I rushed out of there, aware it was not the place to sing and high five the other women, maybe my positive situation would provide relief for the tension? But maybe it was bad taste. Down the corridor further and to Wait 2, This was in a room with a receptionist, she seemed to have been chosen from some day release scheme, a jolly but seemingly incompetent woman, who talked towards us and to herself, apologising for getting everything wrong, like a little comedy show, put on to break the tension. Other women looked solemn and avoided eye contact, I wanted to break out of this say high, ask, ‘who’s for a mammogram?’ but again, not the place. I was aware, despite my own relief and good news that others sitting near me may be leaving today with a different result, for some their wait would continue, following a biopsy, the results needing more time to process. I felt sad for them and suppressed my happiness.

Name call again and onwards down a corridor, this time , the mammogram machine, tops over head before she could blink and ready, tits squashed and squished and twisted, they are deflated sacks nowadays so all very easy to manipulate. All very quick, clothes back on and out, ‘I’ve never seen anyone dress so quickly’ yes well, I’m not one for wasting time. ‘Lets get me out of here!’ Hospitals have always terrified me, I do not linger in them.

I was led down the corridor to Wait 1, woohoo nearly there, there were less women in this waiting bay, some already left, on their way to freedom, that was good to see, more silence here, but not long to wait before I was called into the room for an ultra sound, all polite chit chat, tops off, laying on bed, side propped with wedge cushion, gel squeezed on and breast checked, no , nothing! Yey. Though hold on I wasn’t free yet, she had to check with her boss and then yes, I was free, dress and run, follow the signs for way out and run!

So I am a lucky one, no cancer for me, this is such a relief but all I could feel was numb. Was it the solemness of the experience, the thought of other, less lucky women? Was it just the release of tension, finally I could let go, stop holding myself together? Was it just the exhaustion caused by the experience and location, the florescent lights and all the up and down, the assault on my senses? I don’t know, did I suppress my happiness and it stuck or was it just too close for comfort, too serious a miss to warrant joy.

It is now the next morning, I had thought I would celebrate afterwards, but all I could do was crash out and sleep. Today I awoke with a sense of normal, no more distraction, life to get on with. I am shaking it off but an echo of the fear still lingers. Am I disappointed, I don’t have a disease that people understand and sympathise for? That a cure exists for, an illness to battle and win? That I am still me, with this ongoing struggle, no escape, no way out. While I want to live forever, I don’t want to suffer endlessly, have I been denied an escape, am I being punished, was a get out of jail card waved at me and then taken away? I know I must not think like that, but deep inside I do, should I say that out loud, probably not, but honesty has always been my policy. I feel sad, whatever the cause, a week without HRT, its no wonder. Well no more of that, onwards and upwards, back to the plan.

I have never been lucky, am I lucky now?

Just incase, I bought a lottery ticket, if luck is going my way, winning millions would be good. I haven’t checked the results yet, wish me luck with that.

Here’s to faith and not fear, to living well and being honest.

Chris. xx

Faith Not Fear.

I sit to write this with a shadow of fear hanging over me. Just as I get into a new routine, life rears its head at me.

Sitting recently, my breasts felt tender and I gave a little massage only to feel, that least wanted of things, a lump. I instantly denied it, took my hands away, ignored it. Then panic rising I went in for a more examined feel, yes, there it was, just as I thought I imagined it, hard, different.

Okay, okay, don’t panic. leave it and check again later, this was my common sense response. The next time I checked there was nothing there, I reassured myself and put it from my mind. Curiosity got the better of me and fear crept in, now all that I touched were lumps, I’ve always had lumpy breasts, but now they seemed like rocks of death.

I talked to my daughter, who calmly urged me to ring the Doctors and have it checked. By this time I had decided I was just paranoid, I agreed that if I found it next time I would ring.

The weekend took over and I put it from my thoughts, by Tuesday morning, my head was befuddled, was I imagining or was it real. I rang the surgery and to my shock had an appointment later in the day. Now I was convinced there was nothing there and the Doctor would reassure me, nice and simple not long to wait.

To my horror, the Doctor did indeed feel a lump, right where I thought it was, so much for imagination. She referred me to the breast clinic, a one stop shop, where they do all the tests worst of all she advised me to stop taking my HRT in the mean time, I left feeling numb.

The next morning before 9am, I was called with an appointment for the clinic, exactly a week later from seeing the Doctor, one week to wait. Okay, okay, I can do that. I am a grown up. It is probably all fine. AAAArrrrggghhhhh! inside my head was imploding!

It is now the day before my early morning appointment, have I held it together? Mostly, I think, I haven’t broken down, screamed audibly, or drowned my sorrows in self pity, but I am scared. Very scared! Very, very scared!

A good friend sent me messages to remind me of my importance within the universe, to focus on my faith in it and not my fear. She is so right. I am holding to that. My favourite quote is ‘ since the fear did her no good, she ceased to be afraid.’ from Angela Carter’s The company of wolves. Strangely I saw a play version of this last weekend, when all this was in the cupboard marked denial. Yes do not give in to fear, it does no good. I must have faith in the universe. I must not allow these thoughts to roam freely around the vault of my mind, I can over think take tangents, link it all in a big bundle of suffocating fear, but I won’t.

Even now I am telling myself, there is nothing there, if there is, its just a cyst. The letter and booklet for my appointment clearly states that most often people leave reassured they do not have cancer.

Here’s the thing, most of my life I was prone to believing in the negative outcome over a positive one, where there was a choice. For example, when I discovered I was pregnant, I learned that cancer can cause a positive pregnancy test, before it was confirmed by the Doctor, I was of the mind that I was having a baby or had cancer.

I am not a lucky person, I don’t win at games of chance, never have, if there’s a raffle I will win the booby prize. Being pregnant was a shock to me and it was through pregnancy and birthing my beautiful baby that my outlook changed. Honestly, I had expected something bad to happen throughout the whole process and when it didn’t it changed my world. Sitting near my sleeping baby, I vowed to change, to believe in the goodness of the universe and never again let negativity in.

Well that was nearly 21 years ago and my vow has been tested to the limit. Maybe pregnancy was the booby prize all along, maybe parenting is a curse not a joy? Now I am getting dark, but no, being a mum has been the most wonderful and tortuous experience and I wouldn’t be me, without her.

So I must stand by my vow, I believe in a positive result, I already suffer, surely cancer would be over kill.

I so just want to know, there are three tests and I am believing I will be sent home after test one, all reassured, feeling foolish for wasting people’s time. I just don’t know yet. Waiting is hard!

This time tomorrow it will all be over, this little drama, done and dusted. All will be back on track, so I better keep to my routine and keep moving forward.

Maybe we all need to think of our mortality from time to time, at this point I have an overwhelming urge to live, this surprises me as I have at times wished my life away, understandable with this condition. Is this pay back? Does it serve me right for the times of darkness. Is this a life lesson, to remind me, I am precious, I am not done yet.

Or did the universe hear my deep, dark, secret cries for an escape, a legitimate way out, that no one could blame me for. Does my truth seep through and corrode my breast.

Is there a fight ahead? One way or another there will be, even when I don’t have cancer, and I will fight, hard and strong, I will live to be a hundred.

Should I post this now while I still don’t know, or wait until tomorrow when I have an answer, maybe I should keep you all waiting as I wait and wait,

Here is to faith over fear!

Chris.xx

Mad world.

Why is it that when we mention M.E people reply with some reference to mental illness? It happens all the time and I am sick of it. It is not a mental illness. While, just like every illness it impacts negatively on our mental health, it is a physical, medical condition. Just because people don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. More research is needed and one day we will have tests and treatment too. I have to believe that. Already research has found that it is a cellular level problem, more will follow.

Some time ago I connected to some facebook groups, I was horrified to read comments linking our illness to mental illness, I commented saying such and received a tirade of bonkers responses, yes some of these people are mad, but that is not what M.E is.

We are fighting such negative impressions of our disease and it is wrong. It used to be that anti depressants were thrown our way, as though, yes you are ill, now get perky and cheery and stop minding. These drugs taken when you are not depressed do make you high and life can be nice like that for a little while, but it doesn’t solve the problem. That we took these, is that why people assume its in our heads?

Okay so now a number of SSRI’s are helpful, in treating neuropathic pain and they do give us a cheerful boost, now they are used with some understanding of the condition, rather than just taking a chance. Now there is a range of helpful drugs to lesson our symptoms, but still there are people within the NHS who don’t believe it exists.

Well I am a believer! I am proof to the existence of this condition. Things will change and soon. Covid sufferers are now being diagnosed after long covid, with M.E/CFS, is any one suggesting they are mad or doing it to themselves? No not at all.

Okay, moan over.

Stay strong, spread the truth.

Chris.xx

Deadly.

Well I am into my routine so far, that’s good news, however I can’t write my planned post today as real life news has taken hold in my thoughts.

This will be a sad and depressing post so if you are not feeling strong stop here and do not read on for today.

On Saturday morning, I was up early to head for my weekly ballet class, as usual I drank coffee watching BBC Breakfast, it takes me some time to wake and the early hour does not suit me, just the dance classes have changed and this is now the only ballet session at the gym so I persevere.

Stick to the point Chris, I am even avoiding that, so disturbed am I.

So, here goes, there was a segment about an inquest into the death of a young woman with M.E, I was shocked and watched on. She died of malnutrition and dehydration as a result of severe M.E. I cried, it was all so shocking. I know this is a serious illness but knowing this happened to her, hit me hard. I always say stupid things that minimise this curse, like its a battle but it won’t kill us. How wrong I have been. It is a killer! What’s more, our medical system does not support us or help in any way.

I am nervous sharing the details of this woman’s life, its out there in the media, but still I want to be respectful of her family. The details are horrific. She suffered with M.E for 10 years, becoming so ill, she could not sit up, drink or eat. I can see how that can happen. On this morning I was up after going to bed on Thursday night, during that time I could not use the loo, drink or take the pills I needed. I was awake at times but unable to move, even reach for the water next to my bed. Now for me this is a normal occurrence, I can sleep through three or four days a week easily. That is a normal part of my routine when I am doing well. I think back to the times past, months, spent bedridden, I think of the years my daughter has lost from her life. Death feels like a small step away.

This suffering woman was treated at her local hospital, where doctors did not believe in her illness. Did not believe? In this day and age? Medical professionals? They should all be fired! I feel such anger!!

It is hard enough to fight our symptoms, without Doctors denying our diagnosis. This beautiful young woman was sent home to die, even palliative care was initially denied. Its horrific. How can this happen??

Well the inquest at least has spoken out of the failings of the NHS, there are no dedicated beds in any of the country’s hospitals for M.E. As all sufferers know there is no treatment with specialist clinics being very few and then their services are very simple.. For most of us there is no medical knowledge or support available. I have accepted that but now it seems so wrong,

Long COVID has lead to large numbers of M.E, say long COVID and people understand and sympathise, say M.E they shut down, judging, thinking its imaginary! I am so cross but also devastated. My heart feels heavy and my soul wants to crumble.

I tell myself to take the positive, compare how well I am doing and how far from death, but it doesn’t cheer me. So yes I am off on my way to prance and dance, but she died. I say to myself I must reprogram my expectations for my daughter’s life, she is alive and that means something. It must be enough. Still I can not shake the horror. It is a killer! We must not forget that.

So I am through with minimising it, laughing it off like it is my personal freakishness, no more of that! It is real, it is serious and it kills. Time to start speaking up, like some kind of AA admission. Hi, I’m Chris and I have M.E, I am alive but suffering and I could easily die. Time to tell people like a mantra, let those around me know the truth.

I told all at dance of her life and death, it caused discomfort, one woman asked, how did she not eat? Was it mental illness? No she did not refuse to eat, she was denied medical help. Time to explain loss of muscle control and deconditioning, pain, how to explain? Is it neurological then? Yes, yes! That and more!

How to explain? The agony, the hypersensitivity, the loss of bodily control. Even when well I can not wear my fake tooth or use my much needed gum shield at night. I simply can not tolerate either touching against my mouth, like a foreign bomb I fling them out no matter how often I try to acclimatise them, no matter how I train my brain. Who can explain the burning pain of a light finger touch?

I once had a cannula port inserted to my hand at hospital, a precautionary action in case they needed one, the agony it induced was all consuming, I begged and begged for its removal and was treated as though quite mad. I do not wish to make this post about me, but I need to share my experiences in the hope it will help others understand her suffering. Would it hurt to ask and apply pain relief first and to take extra care? No, we are treated as meat in a butchers window.

How to explain that a woman was left to starve to death, in this world! There can be no explanation, can there? Heart breakingly, she had written a letter to her Doctor, begging for help, declaring her will to live, to eat! Even this suggests the judgment she encountered, written off as mentally ill, even if this was the case, didn’t she deserve help, wasn’t there a way. Unfortunately mental illness treatment barely exists in our world either.

I have witnessed a family member, near death with malnutrition it is most horrid, with feeding tubes and ensure drinks and sheer will power, he came back from skeletal. That was luck, it brought to me how easy it is to reach that point and how quickly the body responds to sustenance. Such suffering seems like medieval torture. All too often people are left to die this way in hospital, usually the elderly or sufferers of degenerative illness. We make allowances for it believing there is no way forward; but this was M.E, come on, she had a life ahead, she could have, should have recovered!!

Later in the day, I told my daughter of this brave soul and her struggle. She looked it all up and sobbed, we sat wrapped together, feeling the fear, our worst fears made real.

This woman had a supportive family, two parents caring for her, fighting her corner and it still happened. What chance do we have? Just the two of us, both defective and unable at times to physically care. No I must never go down that rabbit hole. I have worried enough that she could lay dead behind that door and I wouldn’t know for days, as has she, somewhere in there is a bell, for her to ring, to signal, she needs help, but could she even reach it, never mind ring it. I hope that bell never rings.

I can rant for this poor woman until I cry and then until my tears dry and then again. I am shocked, angry, sad, disgusted and utterly bereft.

Please look her up, take the time to see her and think, tell all you can of her life and unnecessary death.

May we all fight on, may her death not be in vain.

In memory of Maeve Boothby O’Neill

Password Protected.

Feeling good and preparing to get back into this blog sharing recently, I called into the library to look over my accounts and check my mail. I have actually had a new laptop and so in theory I can work now from anywhere, that is exciting, my old laptop had stopped charging properly and so I could only work plugged in. Now I have a lovely new thing, perfect for all my needs, it even has a pen so I can make notes on screen, yey, its so exciting.

However the last time I tried to access my email connected with this blog from home, I got into a mess of cyber security, as I hadn’t accessed it from there before and it treated me like a hacker, ha. This time I was not going to get caught out, I went to the library and entered my details, believing it would be a quick visit, how wrong I was.

An hour later as my P.C was about to time out, I still had gotten nowhere. I had entered so many account details and passwords, it was a farce.

How is it that the modern world, so reliant on tech can suddenly become so frustrating?

My data runs slowly in there, so waiting for emails to hit my inbox was painful. I couldn’t remember if my account was wordpress.com or.org. I didn’t recognise the format of the login pages. Then I kept doubting my memory of my password. I entered every version I could think of on each of the log in pages, to no avail. Ggggrrrr!

I am sure I appreciate the security of my accounts but in that moment I really felt it was overkill. I don’t sign in regularly to my daily email, does any one anymore? It’s in my phone and automatic, making it all even harder.

Well suddenly I realised my P.C was timing out, that’s an hour gone, wasted, no progress made, I realised the time, 5.30pm, my gym class was starting, I was late, I am never late aaargh!

My hair a little torn out I gave up and dashed off to exercise, feeling inside like I had undergone some mind bending ordeal, had I been abducted by aliens? The modern world is great until its not. Sometimes the simplicity of life past seems more desirable. Befuddled and annoyed I managed to vent in the gym, vowing to succeed next time.

As you can see I finally did!

Here’s to remembering all our accounts and passwords and never getting locked out.

Chris. x

Well hello there,

my its been a long, long time.

Well hello, hello. the lengthy intermission has ended and I am back to it. I am aiming for a regular routine too. As you may know I always say that, so here goes and who knows.

Wow, its been a year nearly, I can’t believe it, where have I been? What have I been up to? I hear you ask. Well those are questions, in truth I have little idea. I wonder where the time went myself. How did I fill it? Errr??

I was busy living I guess, well getting on with my limited routines, some how I just could not find the time or head space for writing, despite vowing to make it a priority. Life took over, well other peoples lives took over me. I touched on these responsibilities a little in my last post I think. My mum was unwell and this year there have been a number of visits to A&E, with a range of scares, she has been frail and needy and I am who she has. My daughter reached the point of agoraphobia, being totally consumed by her illness and again I am who she has, so in most part I have felt the crushing responsibility and fear for the future that brings.

All is brighter now, mum is strong and herself again and my girl, girl no longer as she is twenty, has finally reached a point of accepting medical help and fighting back. Don’t I sound like a good person, I am not, mostly I have crashed out on waves of exhaustion and panic. I’ve done all that I could and little else.

Death paid us a visit and grief reared its head to bite, and that took up some time and attention. I am being vague here, I don’t feel ready to share these details yet, though I am sure I will at some point. It’s not that I am avoiding grieving just that, for now I need to separate it.

I was a little productive for a few months earlier this year, I studied two short courses, one in person and one online, these were a positive experience, reminding me I still have skills and can learn. I will definitely be devoting some time to writing about these in more detail.

Can we ever really answer these kind of questions, as to what we have been doing over time? With these conditions are we ever very far from simply striving to exist? Do healthy people find it easier to account for their time, their lives? I am not sure that they do. What do you think?

Time passes like river rapids and here I sit, wondering, thinking, what now? I turned fifty last year and this had a powerful affect on me, I have become very aware of myself, my desires and dreams for life and so now I must put my money where my mouth is and get on with my projects and start living the life I want. Wish me luck with it.

Here’s to the future!

Chris.xx

Lift me up, I wish!

So the library lift is out of action again, its been weeks and no one knows when it will be fixed. My pain is up and there is no getting me up those stairs.

Just now I am sitting on a low chair at a high desk in a thoroughfare on route to the children’s library, hence a young child has just stampeded past happily shouting her excitement and I can not concentrate.

This is an express P.C so I must think and type fast despite the discomfort. Numerous times I have called in to check the lift status and try to sit and write here, but the frustrations keep mounting. Last time I tried unsuccessfully to log on repeatedly before realising the P.C’s were booked.

I have marched out mournfully most times I have entered, vowing to get my head around writing at home and yet failing to do so. Home is a mess, chores shout out at me and I can not clear my head to think. Its turned cold now and sitting still requires heating, I am on a mission to conserve all the heat I can. Freezing does not appeal to me and so I am here rushing this moan off at you.

How simply things can change around us and detract us from our plans. Recently during a dog walk I was longing to reach a point of sit down, picturing the bench a short distance ahead was like seeing a desert oasis, yet I arrived there to find the bench had vanished! Yes the space was there, showing where it had stood and yet the bench itself was gone. I nearly cried with pain and frustration, before struggling on to the next one, wondering if this one too had been whisked away.

I do not know when I last saw or sat on that bench, it may have vanished a considerable time ago, for we only notice the things we need when we need them. The library lift is no big deal until I need to get upstairs, I only thought of the bench when I needed a sit down. So the world moves and changes and I am oblivious unless it immediately impacts on me.

Its another day and I am here again, this time at a desk and seat that match at least. Still no news on the lift, other than an engineer has been a number of times. So I must face up to working at home, I just need to get my head into the right gear.

Well that’s my moan over, a dull waffle indeed, but I wrote something so that’s progress.

Till the next time,

Chris.xx

Take a tip!

Recently a new member joined my cardio dance classes, she was explaining to the instructor that she suffers with vertigo, overhearing this, I butted myself into the end of the conversation, keen to ask if she takes prochlorperazine and recommend it if not. The woman just looked down at me as if I was a crazy person, telling me no no, its her head, she has medication. I tried asking more and noted that the medication she spoke of, I recognised, though don’t remember now, knowing that it was not a treatment for Vertigo. Well I left her with the drug name and my recommendation based on my life experience. I refrained from telling her that I never do the turning moves and just skip out all that exacerbate my condition. Fuck you, I thought crossly to myself.

So what is it that blocks us, that stops us from hearing helpful advice, this woman should have replied, thank you I will look into that, or something similar, instead she acted like I was trying to recruit her into a cult. Now I realise her reaction was probably nerves and discomfort at speaking to a new unknown person, but it got me thinking.

Why is it that we listen to advice but then don’t actually take the advice offered. Is it that we don’t trust other people? Or that we secretly like having our problem and are not looking to solve it? I am as guilty of this as anyone. A long time ago now my supportive and caring long distance friend told me all about how Tapping’ had changed her life for the better and she recommended her favourite and trusted online practitioner. What did I do with this information? Nothing, I filed it in a corner of my mind thinking it is not for me. In the past my mother had been a fan of tapping and was a little obsessional about it, was it this that put me off? I watched a short clip of her favourite guy, and felt immediately repulsed and that was that. Now it may be that its not for me, the movement itself using your fingers is hard for me and with the feeling of electrical current and pulsing I experience, the idea of tapping myself alarms me. Sometimes in life we must look again at these reactions, I clearly have an intense reaction to this practice and so I must look into it properly and fairly.

Well finally I have asked for the recommended name again and now I realise it is time to look again, open my mind and try it. I must trust in my friend and do it simply because she thinks it could be good for me, for everyone. So I write this for my lovely friend V, I will be watching Brad Yates very soon and I thank you for the advice.

I urge everyone who is offered advice at any time to make a mental note and look into it. We should all be helping each other and we have nothing to loose in learning something new, even if it turns out to be not for us.

Chris. x