Respect 

Respect 

I hear the word “respect” all day. Someone wants their opinion to be respected. Someone ele is making accusations that another person disrespected them. What is respect, anyway? I define it as treating others and yourself with worth. Well, to me that seems an easy task. However somewhere along the way it came to mean giving someone power. Power to think for you. Power to treat you as they see fit. Power to be in control of you. This is not respect. This is Tyranny.
I would much rather we demand more tangible and necessary things. Ideals that are seriously lacking from today’s society. I demand compassion, forgiveness, kindness, empathy and patience. Those are the true measure of a person who deserves “respect” from me. It should be for all mankind. 
“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”

-Dr. Seuss

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Rainy days and dialysis always bring me down. 

Rainy days and dialysis always bring me down. 

It’s hard to be positive all the time; it takes a concentrated effort. Sometimes you’re thrown a curveball and it makes it harder to overcome the depression and anxiety involved with the new predicament. This is the case of Home Dialysis. I was prepared physically, emotionally and financially but not psychologically. Let me explain.
Part of being able to stay positive is the ability to escape. You can pretend it’s not happening so that you don’t go insane worrying all the time. However, now I have a dialysis unit in my bedroom. It’s the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I see when I wake up. I spend five days a week for 2 1/2 to 3 hours each time getting dialysis as opposed to three times a week for four hours. I was not prepared for how pervasive this would be.

Your bedroom is your safe place. It’s the place where it’s OK to have dreams, to sleep peacefully, to be free of all the burdens of the day. That becomes difficult to do when you’re staring your illness in the face. I am working very hard to overcome this feeling of depression that this has brought. It’s not always easy, and it isn’t always pretty; the lies you have to tell yourself in order to remain positive. But that’s what I do. Because if I don’t, then I’ve given in. And my mama didn’t raise a quitter. So if I’ve been quiet, this is why. I am working towards it being better every day and sooner or later it will be.