I made it through January, even though I had some doubts about that along the way. This month sucked! I spent most of it either dealing with car issues or almost bleeding to death. I'm emotionally spent and am having a lot of trouble getting back to my usual self and usual habits. Part of me isn't sure that is even possible anymore. I guess we'll see.
I am having a lot of trouble with the hat I'm doing for commission. The yarn is screwing up my perspective and nothing I've tried so far is making it better. I'm not sure if I like where things are going now, although my roommate asked if I was trying to be professional or just being picky. I really couldn't answer him because I wasn't quite sure. I would love to believe it is just me being picky, but deep down I think the hat still sucks. I still have the weekend to finish it, so we'll see how things look tomorrow.
The hat is giving me a headache. I hope that part stops as well. Normally, working on something like this steadies my world and makes everything feel really balanced. I'm not getting that with this hat. I'm not sure if it's the yarn or just the fact that I'm not fully recovered, but every time I work on it, my brain just rebels. This is pissing me off because I can not lose the ability to do the one thing that actually makes me money. I'm hoping it's just my problem-solving reserves being used up.
RuPaul's Drag Race starts again in Feb. I'm looking forward to it and to my roommate and I subversively celebrating Valentine's Day. That's always a lot of fun. Here's to a month of better health, better weather, and the ability to conquer yarn.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Little Madnesses
I've still not had any more major bleeding issues, though the trauma from the episode continues. I'm still very tired, though my strength is returning a little. I managed to put away three laundry baskets of clothes today, even though I was completely exhausted by the time I was finished. I'm working on a commissioned crochet project and that is very nice to be doing again. It's challenging because it's a type of yarn I'm not used to and it's turning out differently than I anticipated. I started the hat part of it over today and, while it is more even than it was, it's still not to my liking. I'll keep working on it tonight and see how I feel about it in the morning.
I'm finding that I'm not comfortable in my room anymore. After spending so much time in it and being beyond miserable, completely out of control of things, and in messy, messy pain, I just really hate being in there. Whenever I go in there, I find myself trying to do other stuff. I'll watch Netflix or something. Anything to not focus on being in that bed and knowing everything that has happened there. I know this isn't a rational response, but then again, I was fairly convinced I was going to bleed to death. I would sometimes lay there, listening to my faint heartbeat, and wonder how much blood I had to lose before I would pass out and just never wake up. It was that bad.
This is one of the many little bits of madness that are now part of my life. Another one is that I constantly feel like the bleeding is going to return because I got cocky and too comfortable with the idea that my life had returned to normal. Last night, I stayed up until almost two, did what was mostly the normal routine of how my life used to be, and went to bed terrified that the blood would start again . . . as a punishment for having a good day, as a punishment for having something close to a normal day.
Maybe in a while, I'll get past this. Maybe, hopefully, I can go back to just being ME, with only the usual level of madness. Maybe all of these new worries and terrors will calm down and fade into the background. I really hope so. I really do.
I'm finding that I'm not comfortable in my room anymore. After spending so much time in it and being beyond miserable, completely out of control of things, and in messy, messy pain, I just really hate being in there. Whenever I go in there, I find myself trying to do other stuff. I'll watch Netflix or something. Anything to not focus on being in that bed and knowing everything that has happened there. I know this isn't a rational response, but then again, I was fairly convinced I was going to bleed to death. I would sometimes lay there, listening to my faint heartbeat, and wonder how much blood I had to lose before I would pass out and just never wake up. It was that bad.
This is one of the many little bits of madness that are now part of my life. Another one is that I constantly feel like the bleeding is going to return because I got cocky and too comfortable with the idea that my life had returned to normal. Last night, I stayed up until almost two, did what was mostly the normal routine of how my life used to be, and went to bed terrified that the blood would start again . . . as a punishment for having a good day, as a punishment for having something close to a normal day.
Maybe in a while, I'll get past this. Maybe, hopefully, I can go back to just being ME, with only the usual level of madness. Maybe all of these new worries and terrors will calm down and fade into the background. I really hope so. I really do.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Very Tiring Baby Steps
It is about 3:30 pm and I have gone almost 36 hours without any kind of major blood mess. There has been some spotting, but nothing dramatic or scary. My body still feels strange and I sometimes feel that ickiness in the pit of my stomach, but for many, many hours now, I have gone without an incident. I am very thankful for this. Even if it starts back, the fact that I was given this many hours in a row without anything happening is wonderful.
My life got another normal aspect returned to it today. I got to visit my best friend. This is the first time we have seen each other all year and it is almost nearly the end of January. I went to her house and spent some hours there, although I had my roommate pick me up at two. I probably could have stayed longer, but I just didn't want to chance it.
When we got home, I took some time to rest, but then managed to get my trash out to the curb. Last week I was too weak to even do that. Last week it was all I could do to manage to bag the trash and hand it to my roommate for him to take out with his portion. I got it outside today, but by the time I was back in the house, I was exhausted. I sat in the laundry room for a good ten minutes and tried to catch my breath. I'm still very fatigued from all of this, but on the bright side, not as much as I was last week.
There has been just enough emotional trauma over this to make me paranoid about the whole thing. You'll notice I'll still doing my posts early, because I have no idea what kind of shape I'll be in by midnight. I'm also checking myself like a mama checks a baby, just to insure blood isn't about to gush everywhere. I still worry about any situation where I may need to bend and as humans we bend a lot. I still worry that things could go back to being as bad as they were and that my uterus wasn't sloughing off what was in it so much as just refilling again and again.
But for now, I'm going to bask in my nonbloody state. I'm going to view the tiring baby steps back to my normal life as victories. I'm going to appreciate what I have. I'm going to sit with oxygen on because I'm about as winded as a was 150 lbs ago.
My life got another normal aspect returned to it today. I got to visit my best friend. This is the first time we have seen each other all year and it is almost nearly the end of January. I went to her house and spent some hours there, although I had my roommate pick me up at two. I probably could have stayed longer, but I just didn't want to chance it.
When we got home, I took some time to rest, but then managed to get my trash out to the curb. Last week I was too weak to even do that. Last week it was all I could do to manage to bag the trash and hand it to my roommate for him to take out with his portion. I got it outside today, but by the time I was back in the house, I was exhausted. I sat in the laundry room for a good ten minutes and tried to catch my breath. I'm still very fatigued from all of this, but on the bright side, not as much as I was last week.
There has been just enough emotional trauma over this to make me paranoid about the whole thing. You'll notice I'll still doing my posts early, because I have no idea what kind of shape I'll be in by midnight. I'm also checking myself like a mama checks a baby, just to insure blood isn't about to gush everywhere. I still worry about any situation where I may need to bend and as humans we bend a lot. I still worry that things could go back to being as bad as they were and that my uterus wasn't sloughing off what was in it so much as just refilling again and again.
But for now, I'm going to bask in my nonbloody state. I'm going to view the tiring baby steps back to my normal life as victories. I'm going to appreciate what I have. I'm going to sit with oxygen on because I'm about as winded as a was 150 lbs ago.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Therapy Day
After two weeks and much trepidation, I have managed to make it to therapy. I am out of breath and my body is protesting, but at least I showed up. I have about 10 minutes before it starts. That will give me enough time to calm down my breathing and collect my thoughts. I have not had the chance to tell my therapist about any of the horrible blood issues, so this session will be pretty full.
I wish I could be more comfortable. This is usually a safe place for me, but right now I am just trying my best not to start bleeding all over the safe place. I wasn't even spotting when I left, but sadly, that doesn't mean anything in terms of what the next hour (or even the next 15 minutes) could hold. I did everything I could to protect myself. That is all I could control.
Of course, therapy is always frought with its own issues. Bad parking, children, my therapist needing to leave early to deal with her own medical stuff. All of that is normal though. These are things I am used to. They just happen to be bigger challenges now that I have to deal with this new, unwanted aspect of my life.
I made it through the session. We mostly talked about what is currently happening with my body. I talked a lot about how angry I am about the whole thing. I didn't cry, but I considered it.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I crashed into my bed and slept for a couple of hours. It kind of amazes me that it took so much out of me just to go to the therapist, but then again, I've been doing next to nothing for the last several weeks. This was a start. Maybe next week, things will go better.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Towels, Fatigue,.and Disappointment
I've decided to keep blogging about this evil blood thing/parimenopause as long as it is going on because I think the more information out there, the better. In a way, I feel betrayed because the older women in my life didn't discuss this, but then I remembered they had been socialized to make light of very serious matters. Discussing horrible bleeding or the other issues associated with parimenopause would have seemed like they were calling attention to themselves. I have this blog for the purpose OF calling attention to my issues, and if it helps someone else along the way, awesome.
I folded the backlog of towels today. I'm not sure how long this actually took, but it felt like it took the better part of an hour. Mind you, all I did was fold them. My roommate brought them to me and put them away. My only action was just that of folding and as we all know, folding is a pretty simple process.
Except for right now. My body is so worn down and fatigued, that the simple act of folding towels left me exhausted. I was out of breath, shaky, and just at the end of my rope by the time I was finished. It also brought on the first serious instance of bleeding-with-massive-clots that I have had since getting the Depo shot on Thursday. For about an hour and a half, I had to lay in bed and tough it out, changing the tampons as often as I could. It was a strange bleed, very pale and not that sticky. There was a massive abundance of it though, and very large clots.
During the whole ordeal, I could feel my uterus contracting as fast as it could. Maybe it was just trying to get out some left over goo. I don't know. Every time this happens, I always hope it is the last time. So far, even though I get reprieve for hours (and thankfully, sometimes days) at a time, it is always coming back now. If things don't slow down, I may have to call the Depo shot a failure and try the next step.
I folded the backlog of towels today. I'm not sure how long this actually took, but it felt like it took the better part of an hour. Mind you, all I did was fold them. My roommate brought them to me and put them away. My only action was just that of folding and as we all know, folding is a pretty simple process.
Except for right now. My body is so worn down and fatigued, that the simple act of folding towels left me exhausted. I was out of breath, shaky, and just at the end of my rope by the time I was finished. It also brought on the first serious instance of bleeding-with-massive-clots that I have had since getting the Depo shot on Thursday. For about an hour and a half, I had to lay in bed and tough it out, changing the tampons as often as I could. It was a strange bleed, very pale and not that sticky. There was a massive abundance of it though, and very large clots.
During the whole ordeal, I could feel my uterus contracting as fast as it could. Maybe it was just trying to get out some left over goo. I don't know. Every time this happens, I always hope it is the last time. So far, even though I get reprieve for hours (and thankfully, sometimes days) at a time, it is always coming back now. If things don't slow down, I may have to call the Depo shot a failure and try the next step.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Much Like You
Personally, I am not much in the way of tradition. If you read the blog, you know that what little traditions I DO keep to, I see them as very important. Decorating the tree with my best friend and watching holiday specials with my roommate help to set and define the winter holiday season for me. So, to that extent, while I am not overly-traditional, I do see the value in it. I can also appreciate how these traditions are important to others.
For the people in my state who are against gay marriage, I think maybe it is time for you to look at the matter from another perspective. It seems like the only part about homosexual people getting married that you focus on is the "homosexual" part. Some of you speak about the issue as if the gay people are a group of foreign invaders who moved to Oklahoma to change our way of life. For the most part, I doubt that to be the case.
Most of the gay people that I know from Oklahoma are people who were born here or people who have been raised here for the majority of their lives. They are our siblings, our neighbors, our cousins, our coworkers, our parents, our classmates, and our friends. They have been the witnesses to our lives, our confidants, and the people who stood by our sides.
For many of them, the ideas a about love, marriage, commitment, and fidelity are the same as your own. When you met that person that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, you experienced a mixture of elation and responsibility. You loved this other person and you wanted to honor that love by dedicating a great deal of your time, thought, and emotion to building a life with them. You are not some child who sees marriage as a prize. You see marriage as the most important way to love the person who means the world to you. Much of why you feel this way is because you were raised around people who taught you this. It is a basic value in our (and many other) area.
These values are the same values that the gay people raised in our area have. Like you, they grew up believing that loving someone meant honoring them with fidelity and building a life with them. Other than loving someone of the same gender instead of the other gender, their feelings about marriage and family are much like your own. Houses, well manicured yards, dogs, stable neighborhoods. They aren't trying to destroy marriage. They love marriage as much as you do. They just want to have the option of participating in it with someone they love.
I've always found it very interesting that conservative Americans, especially those who promote the family, were so against a group of people who very much want to have families of their own. I could understand them opposing divorce or people just living together or people like me who don't see marriage as worthwhile . . . but instead they focus on the people who really want the same stuff they do. It doesn't make a lot of sense.
These values are the same values that the gay people raised in our area have. Like you, they grew up believing that loving someone meant honoring them with fidelity and building a life with them. Other than loving someone of the same gender instead of the other gender, their feelings about marriage and family are much like your own. Houses, well manicured yards, dogs, stable neighborhoods. They aren't trying to destroy marriage. They love marriage as much as you do. They just want to have the option of participating in it with someone they love.
I've always found it very interesting that conservative Americans, especially those who promote the family, were so against a group of people who very much want to have families of their own. I could understand them opposing divorce or people just living together or people like me who don't see marriage as worthwhile . . . but instead they focus on the people who really want the same stuff they do. It doesn't make a lot of sense.
Depo Update
This is the end of the first weekend on Depo Provera. So far I have been overly paranoid, otherwise emotional, and suffering from a headache. I also have a backache, lots of fatigue, less focus than usual. All of these things, mind you, could be the after effects of being in bloodhell for the last 2 weeks and not side effects of the drug, even though they all are side effects of the drug. I just need to stay aware of them.
I haven't stopped bleeding. It has lessened, but it has never stopped. Breakthrough bleeding can also be a side effect of Depo, so either what was in my system is just slowly winding down or this isn't going to ever stop at all. Sigh. I really hope it's winding down. I am so sick of this.
So far, the backache is the worst development. I can't get comfortable, no matter how I lay or sit. I honestly feel like crying it gets so bad sometimes. Again, I'm not sure if the backache is an after effect of what has happened to me since Jan. 7 or a side effect of the Depo. I am also not sure if the want to cry is genuine. I just know that I don't feel comfortable in my own skin anymore and I am very tired of feeling that way.
I'm really disheartened right now. I know I only had the shot a few days ago, but it sucks that I'm seeing and experiencing a lot of the bad and not the one really good thing I wanted to come from it. I know I have to be patient, but that is kind of difficult at this point.
Maybe things will be better tomorrow.
I haven't stopped bleeding. It has lessened, but it has never stopped. Breakthrough bleeding can also be a side effect of Depo, so either what was in my system is just slowly winding down or this isn't going to ever stop at all. Sigh. I really hope it's winding down. I am so sick of this.
So far, the backache is the worst development. I can't get comfortable, no matter how I lay or sit. I honestly feel like crying it gets so bad sometimes. Again, I'm not sure if the backache is an after effect of what has happened to me since Jan. 7 or a side effect of the Depo. I am also not sure if the want to cry is genuine. I just know that I don't feel comfortable in my own skin anymore and I am very tired of feeling that way.
I'm really disheartened right now. I know I only had the shot a few days ago, but it sucks that I'm seeing and experiencing a lot of the bad and not the one really good thing I wanted to come from it. I know I have to be patient, but that is kind of difficult at this point.
Maybe things will be better tomorrow.
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Progress Perhaps
The bleeding is still slowing down, although I did have some clotting when I changed things about half an hour ago. I panicked when I saw it and got really depressed because I do not want this to start again. It's scary. I'm tired of my life being dominated by uterine issues. I'm also tired of the blog being dominated by them, as I am sure you are as well.
It was nice to get something close to my normal sleep last night. I still had to wake up to deal with issues, but not as many times. Even having the small reprieve I've had gives me more strength about the whole situation. I guess I shouldn't be too worried. The nurse said it might take up to a week. I hope it doesn't, but I have to be realistic about this. So far my treatment has been hormonal and it is possible that hormones have nothing to do with what is going on. It is, so far, just their best guess.
Aside from that, since it has been ruled that the law that banned same-sex marriage in Oklahoma is unconstitutional, one of our brilliant leaders has decided the best way to combat this is to ban ALL marriage in the state. Talk about gathering up your toys and going home when someone makes you play by the rules! Idiots.
I mean, this is fine with me. I don't believe in marriage anyway, but for all the folks out there who want to be married, why not just let them do it? Is it really such a big deal? Really?
It was nice to get something close to my normal sleep last night. I still had to wake up to deal with issues, but not as many times. Even having the small reprieve I've had gives me more strength about the whole situation. I guess I shouldn't be too worried. The nurse said it might take up to a week. I hope it doesn't, but I have to be realistic about this. So far my treatment has been hormonal and it is possible that hormones have nothing to do with what is going on. It is, so far, just their best guess.
Aside from that, since it has been ruled that the law that banned same-sex marriage in Oklahoma is unconstitutional, one of our brilliant leaders has decided the best way to combat this is to ban ALL marriage in the state. Talk about gathering up your toys and going home when someone makes you play by the rules! Idiots.
I mean, this is fine with me. I don't believe in marriage anyway, but for all the folks out there who want to be married, why not just let them do it? Is it really such a big deal? Really?
Friday, January 24, 2014
Doctor Appointment
Yesterday's doctor appointment might have proved to be useful. She says a lot of my hormonal fuckery is due to weight loss. I told her how the stuff the ER doctor gave me didn't work as much as just slow things down. She said he didn't prescribe it for long enough and that it was too late to go that route again. Instead, she had my roommate (who drove me there) go pick up a shot of Depo Provera for me. When he brought it back, they gave me the shot, which is suppose to suppress my ovaries for the next three months. The bloodmess should stop and like should get back to normalish.
In the meantime, she wants me to consider having NovaSure done. It's less drastic than a hysterectomy and would be less time recovering. The downside is that it hurts some women like a motherfucker and only has about an 80% success rate. Though, those are good odds, really. I'm very strongly considering it because I don't want to stay on the Depo for long and having some kind of major solution would be good.
Anyway, the blood has slowed today. I'm cautiously glad about that. She said it might take a few days for the blood to completely stop (the nurse said up to seven) so I can't get my hopes up too much. It would be nice though because I would like to blog about something besides my uterus.
In the meantime, she wants me to consider having NovaSure done. It's less drastic than a hysterectomy and would be less time recovering. The downside is that it hurts some women like a motherfucker and only has about an 80% success rate. Though, those are good odds, really. I'm very strongly considering it because I don't want to stay on the Depo for long and having some kind of major solution would be good.
Anyway, the blood has slowed today. I'm cautiously glad about that. She said it might take a few days for the blood to completely stop (the nurse said up to seven) so I can't get my hopes up too much. It would be nice though because I would like to blog about something besides my uterus.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Hopeful Progress
Yesterday afternoon, my doctor's office called and said she wanted to see me today at 3:30 instead of tomorrow at 10:45. Thank all the gods for this! Hopefully things can be started today, whatever THINGS happen to be. If nothing else, she will be personally aware of my situation and how awful I look.
I managed to bathe, which is a miracle in and of itself. There have been days when I didn't feel up to it and other days when the bleeding just wouldn't allow for it. This morning, however, I had a window of nonheavy bleeding and enough time to bathe, dry my hair, and then rest for a bit before I had to get up and eat breakfast. I did better at bathing this time. Last time, I didn't get all of the shampoo out of my hair. This time, I made sure that happened. See, this is how dizzy I'm staying.
I'm lucky that the blood had gone into low drive today because last night was hellish. I halfway woke up to tend to a very bad bout of bleeding and clotting. I was still asleep enough to be dreaming I was a spy and this was some kind of horrible attack. A few hours later, soaked, drained, and sore, I woke up completely and remembered I was no spy. There is nothing glamorous or fascinating about my life. I'm just a chick trying to live through this hellish blood process.
I'll update you when I know more.
I managed to bathe, which is a miracle in and of itself. There have been days when I didn't feel up to it and other days when the bleeding just wouldn't allow for it. This morning, however, I had a window of nonheavy bleeding and enough time to bathe, dry my hair, and then rest for a bit before I had to get up and eat breakfast. I did better at bathing this time. Last time, I didn't get all of the shampoo out of my hair. This time, I made sure that happened. See, this is how dizzy I'm staying.
I'm lucky that the blood had gone into low drive today because last night was hellish. I halfway woke up to tend to a very bad bout of bleeding and clotting. I was still asleep enough to be dreaming I was a spy and this was some kind of horrible attack. A few hours later, soaked, drained, and sore, I woke up completely and remembered I was no spy. There is nothing glamorous or fascinating about my life. I'm just a chick trying to live through this hellish blood process.
I'll update you when I know more.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
And Now I'm Second Guessing Myself
Last night, I tried to be somewhat self-aware and questioned if I was overreacting to this whole 'bloodmess' thing. Maybe I was seeing it as too much of a big deal. After all, when I have discussed it with doctors and other medical people, they don't seem that concerned. Could it be that just the mess and unease and unfamiliarity of this level of blood is making me fearful for no reason?
I thought about this for a while and then asked my roommate what he thought. He reminded me that this is leaving stuck in bed for hours at a time, in pain, unable to function like a normal human. It has made it impossible for me to drive to the store or go to therapy. I don't know if I'll be able to visit my best friend until this is all over. This bloodmess, that no one else seems to be willing to take seriously, is destroying the process of my life. It is costing me money (in washing, pads, tampons, etc) and it is causing me pain.
If you will notice, even how I write the blog has changed. Writing the blog used to be the last thing I did before going to bed. It was the way I wrapped up my day. Now I'm usually writing the blog in the middle of the day because I have no way of knowing what shape I'll be in whenever night comes around. I don't know if I'll still be capable of sitting by the computer or if I'll be in bed, writhing in pain. So much of my life has been reduced down to preparing for massive uterine chaos that I feel trapped by it.
So no, I'm not over reacting. I am reacting as I should be. Nothing should be allowed to cause this much havoc in my daily activities. But of course, I questioned it because when it comes to medical issues, women are basically told not to trust themselves and their instincts. Everyone else is basically told not to trust us as well. I get nervous about the idea of calling to see if my doctor has looked at my ER report because I have been trained not to make waves and not to be a nuisance or bother the nice doctors.
Fuck that. I hope I bleed all over her office on Friday.
I thought about this for a while and then asked my roommate what he thought. He reminded me that this is leaving stuck in bed for hours at a time, in pain, unable to function like a normal human. It has made it impossible for me to drive to the store or go to therapy. I don't know if I'll be able to visit my best friend until this is all over. This bloodmess, that no one else seems to be willing to take seriously, is destroying the process of my life. It is costing me money (in washing, pads, tampons, etc) and it is causing me pain.
If you will notice, even how I write the blog has changed. Writing the blog used to be the last thing I did before going to bed. It was the way I wrapped up my day. Now I'm usually writing the blog in the middle of the day because I have no way of knowing what shape I'll be in whenever night comes around. I don't know if I'll still be capable of sitting by the computer or if I'll be in bed, writhing in pain. So much of my life has been reduced down to preparing for massive uterine chaos that I feel trapped by it.
So no, I'm not over reacting. I am reacting as I should be. Nothing should be allowed to cause this much havoc in my daily activities. But of course, I questioned it because when it comes to medical issues, women are basically told not to trust themselves and their instincts. Everyone else is basically told not to trust us as well. I get nervous about the idea of calling to see if my doctor has looked at my ER report because I have been trained not to make waves and not to be a nuisance or bother the nice doctors.
Fuck that. I hope I bleed all over her office on Friday.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Venting
I have been angry today. I am angry because I didn't get to go to therapy because of the blood issue and this sucks because I really NEED to go to therapy to talk about the blood issue. I am angry because my doctor hasn't called me back, even though I have made it known that I need help. I am angry because I worry I sound like my grandma . . . and I'm angry that this bothers me. I am angry that if I was a man and my reproductive business was bleeding, I would already be in the hospital, surgerized, and tended to. But I am a woman and vaginae just bleed so I'm clearly overreacting.
I am angry that when I needed to be bleeding, when the ER doctor was giving me the exam, I wasn't bleeding. Any other time I probably could have blown a clot in his face, but no, not then. Not when it was important that it happen. Stupid body betraying me.
I am angry that I am still writing about this. That over a week later, this is still dominating my life, still dictating what happens, still calling the shots.
I am angry whenever I see any happy, plucky message on Facebook about how we are in control of our own destiny. FUCK. YOU. I am not in control of jackshit right now. I'm just the person who changes the pads. There is no control and not one goddamned thing I can do about it.
Mostly, because I like my simple little life and the path I have carved out for myself, I am angry that all of that has been disrupted.
I am angry that when I needed to be bleeding, when the ER doctor was giving me the exam, I wasn't bleeding. Any other time I probably could have blown a clot in his face, but no, not then. Not when it was important that it happen. Stupid body betraying me.
I am angry that I am still writing about this. That over a week later, this is still dominating my life, still dictating what happens, still calling the shots.
I am angry whenever I see any happy, plucky message on Facebook about how we are in control of our own destiny. FUCK. YOU. I am not in control of jackshit right now. I'm just the person who changes the pads. There is no control and not one goddamned thing I can do about it.
Mostly, because I like my simple little life and the path I have carved out for myself, I am angry that all of that has been disrupted.
Monday, January 20, 2014
Crone Perspective
I'm sitting in the Walmart parking lot and I am behind the driver's seat for the first time in so long I can't even remember. My body feels icky and I am a jumble of emotions. I keep bouncing between utter fear/depression and shedding the very last of the fucks I have to give. My guess is that the latter will win.
This is such a humbling process. Having to constantly talk about and think about the stuff that you most want to keep private rips at your soul. I find myself looking at all the older women around me with a newfound respect. They survived this mess! They survived this hell and somehow found reason and strength to continue living. I am in awe of that.
My perspective is changing. I saw an old lady in a sparkly silver shirt. Before all of this, I would have rolled my eyes and wondered what she was thinking. Now I applaud her for it. Want to wear sparkles? Awesome. Do so. You have been through enough already. You do whatever you please.
Maybe if I come out of this hell alive, I'll do the same. I'll buy myself a sparkly shirt and wear it all the damned time.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Research and Reflection
I did a lot of research today about bleeding issues and hysterectomies. I know that no amount of research really prepares one for the real thing, but at least I have a better idea now. It isn't as encouraging as I had hoped. Then again, I was thinking this was kind of like getting the cat fixed. A night at the vet's and then the cat comes home, staggers around until the drugs wear off, and then they're basically fine.
Even the most gentle of hysterectomies will still leave me in the hospital for one to two days after, possible complications, bleeding for another two weeks (though not this HellBlood) and unable to lift stuff or drive for a month to six weeks afterward. Maybe it won't be that bad, but it is best to be prepared.
Maybe it won't come to that. Perhaps there will be other ways to handle the bleeding. It doesn't look hopeful though. With almost everything I have read, removal is usually the only way to stop it completely. It's less of a big deal to me than to other women. I never wanted kids. Still, losing a part of one's self is still a loss. There will be mourning involved and rituals to grieve. I'm not happy about it, but then again, if the uterus wanted to stay, she shouldn't have become such a bitch.
The meds they gave me have slowed things down, but the bleeding hasn't stopped completely. I'm hoping for enough of it to subside tomorrow for me to do human things like shower and maybe drive my roommate to the store. I'm also going to call my doctor and tell her what happened on Friday. Maybe she can get the ball rolling on removal or more meds or something.
I would love to say that the blog won't keep being about my female troubles, but I suspect it will be. Sadly, this is kind of dominating my life right now. Well, that and the green beans my roommate cooked for lunch. They were so good!
I think if anything good is coming out of this hellhole, it is a new perspective I have on food. I've always eaten when I wanted to and not waited until I was crazy levels of famished. Food tastes amazingly better when you're hungry though. The fact that it tastes so good that way is helping me keep from eating between meals or too late in the evening . . . well, that and the fact that I really don't feel like walking into the kitchen. Did I mention I almost fell while trying to get a coke this morning? Yup, that is my life right now.
Even the most gentle of hysterectomies will still leave me in the hospital for one to two days after, possible complications, bleeding for another two weeks (though not this HellBlood) and unable to lift stuff or drive for a month to six weeks afterward. Maybe it won't be that bad, but it is best to be prepared.
Maybe it won't come to that. Perhaps there will be other ways to handle the bleeding. It doesn't look hopeful though. With almost everything I have read, removal is usually the only way to stop it completely. It's less of a big deal to me than to other women. I never wanted kids. Still, losing a part of one's self is still a loss. There will be mourning involved and rituals to grieve. I'm not happy about it, but then again, if the uterus wanted to stay, she shouldn't have become such a bitch.
The meds they gave me have slowed things down, but the bleeding hasn't stopped completely. I'm hoping for enough of it to subside tomorrow for me to do human things like shower and maybe drive my roommate to the store. I'm also going to call my doctor and tell her what happened on Friday. Maybe she can get the ball rolling on removal or more meds or something.
I would love to say that the blog won't keep being about my female troubles, but I suspect it will be. Sadly, this is kind of dominating my life right now. Well, that and the green beans my roommate cooked for lunch. They were so good!
I think if anything good is coming out of this hellhole, it is a new perspective I have on food. I've always eaten when I wanted to and not waited until I was crazy levels of famished. Food tastes amazingly better when you're hungry though. The fact that it tastes so good that way is helping me keep from eating between meals or too late in the evening . . . well, that and the fact that I really don't feel like walking into the kitchen. Did I mention I almost fell while trying to get a coke this morning? Yup, that is my life right now.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Plans Interrupted
I'd not really mentioned this before, but one of my plans for the new year was to blog every day. I know I blog most days, but I wanted to really blog every day and give an accounting of what happened during my day. I wanted it to be a real Year in the Life Of thing. I wanted to publish it at the end of the year, call the book 40, and be happy about it.
That has been shot to hell.
It make me angry. It makes me angry because this wasn't my choice. It wasn't my laziness or my flaky nature that ruined this. THAT I could accept. THAT I could handle because at least I would be the one who did it. NO! This is the stupid blood stupid perimenopause stupid body betraying me bullshit that now seems to dominate my life.
And it is dominating my life. Every minute seems to be good or bad depending on if I made it through said moment without blood going everywhere. This is HELL. I want out of it as soon as possible because it is just almost impossible to live with. My life has been reduced to activities and plans happening on whether or not I can go without making a mess. What kind of a life is that?
Maybe I will get used to this change. Maybe it will go quickly. I really hope it does. Right now, I just feel very trapped and very broken into pieces.
Messy, bloody pieces.
That has been shot to hell.
It make me angry. It makes me angry because this wasn't my choice. It wasn't my laziness or my flaky nature that ruined this. THAT I could accept. THAT I could handle because at least I would be the one who did it. NO! This is the stupid blood stupid perimenopause stupid body betraying me bullshit that now seems to dominate my life.
And it is dominating my life. Every minute seems to be good or bad depending on if I made it through said moment without blood going everywhere. This is HELL. I want out of it as soon as possible because it is just almost impossible to live with. My life has been reduced to activities and plans happening on whether or not I can go without making a mess. What kind of a life is that?
Maybe I will get used to this change. Maybe it will go quickly. I really hope it does. Right now, I just feel very trapped and very broken into pieces.
Messy, bloody pieces.
Technical Difficulties
Sorry I've been out of sorts lately. I had to go to the ER yesterday to see if they could do something about this bleeding problem. They gave me some pills. I really hope they work. I'll talk more when I can.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
The Me
Another one of the rough parts of being so depleted is that the core of your personality shuts down. For about 36 hours, I wasn't ME. I was just Default Me, as in I was on automatic pilot, with just enough awareness to move from Point A to Point B and try to function while I was there. I was alive, but not living as me.
In a way, this lack of self is the scariest part for me. Being me has always been the biggest perk to being alive. The thought of losing ME is horrifying.
When I was 25, I had a surgery that did not go well. I ended up on morphine for the duration of the hospital stay (at a drip every 15 minutes) and Oxycodome when I came home. For about a year afterward, I was not myself. I just went through the motions of life. It was like trying to filter everything through a layer of cotton. It was hell.
To cope, I developed an alternate personality. I created someone else to be because I couldn't be myself. I didn't know HOW to be myself anymore. I didn't know how to FIND myself. I hated being no one though, so I decided to find a new person. This personality is still used to this day, although only in select situations, and is as real to me as my own.
To cope, I developed an alternate personality. I created someone else to be because I couldn't be myself. I didn't know HOW to be myself anymore. I didn't know how to FIND myself. I hated being no one though, so I decided to find a new person. This personality is still used to this day, although only in select situations, and is as real to me as my own.
So now, any time I find myself stuck in automatic, it frightens me. I know how long this can last and the kind of steps needed to get out of it.
Around six last night, I was curled up in fetal position the bed. I managed to take a shower, though this had been a somewhat harrowing experience. As I laid there, all clean and physically drained, it was like a wall lifted and I was suddenly ME again. There are no words for the joy and relief I felt in that moment. I was back. Thank all the gods and everything else, I was back.
Needless to say, a part of what frightens me about this whole menopause thing is the potential of losing ME again. Between the mood swings and the depletion, I've had moments when I was really scared about this. I like being me. It's really my favorite thing about life. I need to make sure I hold onto that.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Perimenopause is the Worst
WARNING: Graphic discussion of blood and vagina.
I didn't blog last night because I was sick and depleted from what most websites blandly refer to as 'irregular periods.' This seems so simple, so innocent, so unhorrible. Sure, it's not the normal way of things, but it's just a little irregular. It happens quite often to women during perimenopause. If you don't know the term, perimenopause is this place of jolly, fun years before menopause, when you experience hot flashes, night sweats, and irregular periods.
Le me tell you about those irregular periods, just so you don't freak out when your time comes. It's kind of like giving birth, but instead of having a kid when it's finished, you have a lot of goopy blobs of nasty clots. These clots are bigger than your tampon and will knock it out of your body. To help the clots move, you get to bleed and bleed. At some points, you feel like you've bled all the blood you have and should probably go get some more. You will not feel strong enough to get more.
You will not want to leave the house. You won't feel like it is safe. At any moment, you could start the horrible 'push out the clot' processes again. You will feel trapped and alone. Just remember you're not alone. A lot of women go through this. A lot of women don't talk about it, because it is gross and terrifying and, in a strange way, you feel like you've gone through something violent.
When your body finally decides to stop doing this part, you get to enjoy the intensely painful experience of your cervix contracting back into shape. That feels like hell, but it is a good kind of hell, because at least you know the scary clot part is over . . . for a while.
I have been told this is due to estrogen levels spiking while progesterone levels are low. I am going to try and get something done about this. Hopefully it will help. Otherwise, I will probably fall over dead from blood loss. As painful as this has been, I kind of won't care.
I didn't blog last night because I was sick and depleted from what most websites blandly refer to as 'irregular periods.' This seems so simple, so innocent, so unhorrible. Sure, it's not the normal way of things, but it's just a little irregular. It happens quite often to women during perimenopause. If you don't know the term, perimenopause is this place of jolly, fun years before menopause, when you experience hot flashes, night sweats, and irregular periods.
Le me tell you about those irregular periods, just so you don't freak out when your time comes. It's kind of like giving birth, but instead of having a kid when it's finished, you have a lot of goopy blobs of nasty clots. These clots are bigger than your tampon and will knock it out of your body. To help the clots move, you get to bleed and bleed. At some points, you feel like you've bled all the blood you have and should probably go get some more. You will not feel strong enough to get more.
You will not want to leave the house. You won't feel like it is safe. At any moment, you could start the horrible 'push out the clot' processes again. You will feel trapped and alone. Just remember you're not alone. A lot of women go through this. A lot of women don't talk about it, because it is gross and terrifying and, in a strange way, you feel like you've gone through something violent.
When your body finally decides to stop doing this part, you get to enjoy the intensely painful experience of your cervix contracting back into shape. That feels like hell, but it is a good kind of hell, because at least you know the scary clot part is over . . . for a while.
I have been told this is due to estrogen levels spiking while progesterone levels are low. I am going to try and get something done about this. Hopefully it will help. Otherwise, I will probably fall over dead from blood loss. As painful as this has been, I kind of won't care.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Recent Forgotten Treasures
It seems that my niece was upset that everyone else got a beard/hat but her. I didn't exclude her to be mean. I didn't make her one because I didn't think she would be interested. I should have realized that to a youngest child: fashion < having what everyone else has. My SIL suggested colors and said I should make it for her birthday. It's not that far off so I went ahead and did most of it today. It's adorable. I'll attach it tomorrow and then work on the jewelry I planned for her as well. That way she gets fashion AND what everyone else has. I'm awesome like that.
When I wasn't working on the hat, it seems like the rest of my time was spent putting on lip gloss. The wind and dryness in the air is causing all kinds of issues with my skin and sinuses. This is like my third straight day of sinus headaches. As much as I am enjoying the respite from freezing, I could do with a bit less sinus hell. And yes, I'm never happy where the weather is concerned.
My roommate now has a computer in the living room as well. I adore this! There is something so folksy and pleasant about us both working on computer stuff together! I have no idea why that makes me so happy, but it totally does. He has a little stand over by the couch and we can work on stuff and talk and it's just so homey to me!
Anyway, the process of setting up a new computer is always involved, especially if you use a lot of programs. He was going through some old storage disks and found some stuff from when we lived in our first house. This was about 12 years ago. It was neat to see the things we were doing at that time. In fact, some of it involves projects that I meant to do but never got around to doing. I have more time now, so maybe that can change.
Overall, it was a peaceful Sunday. We needed a nice, peaceful day. Here's hoping we have a nice, peaceful week.
When I wasn't working on the hat, it seems like the rest of my time was spent putting on lip gloss. The wind and dryness in the air is causing all kinds of issues with my skin and sinuses. This is like my third straight day of sinus headaches. As much as I am enjoying the respite from freezing, I could do with a bit less sinus hell. And yes, I'm never happy where the weather is concerned.
My roommate now has a computer in the living room as well. I adore this! There is something so folksy and pleasant about us both working on computer stuff together! I have no idea why that makes me so happy, but it totally does. He has a little stand over by the couch and we can work on stuff and talk and it's just so homey to me!
Anyway, the process of setting up a new computer is always involved, especially if you use a lot of programs. He was going through some old storage disks and found some stuff from when we lived in our first house. This was about 12 years ago. It was neat to see the things we were doing at that time. In fact, some of it involves projects that I meant to do but never got around to doing. I have more time now, so maybe that can change.
Overall, it was a peaceful Sunday. We needed a nice, peaceful day. Here's hoping we have a nice, peaceful week.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
But I'll be Dead Soon, So . . .
It was warmerish today and we got to turn off the heaters. This was nice because the heaters really dry out the air, an amazing accomplishment considering how humid this house stays. I'm always just in awe of how I can be completely dried out and completely uncomfortably moist in this place. I guess the house is striving for some kind of contrast.
This is about the time last year when I received my 1099C in the mail and it destroyed my life for the next several weeks. I got this nasty little bit of information on top of dealing with tons of car issues and other annoyances, making for one very unpleasant January. So far this year, we've had to replace a computer, deal with that damned tire thing, and get medical stuff screwed up. Again, it's not really turning out to be all that great of a January.
I think I'm starting to settle in to this idea of being 40, though probably for the wrong reasons. I'm hitting this weird kind of zen about the whole thing . . . . because I know I'm on the downhill slide towards death!! I am serious about that! I'm actually looking at this as a good thing. See, things are scarier when you're 20 and you have potentially 60 to 80 years ahead of you. Me? I'll be slipping back into the stardust in a few decades, so things aren't as scary anymore. All I have to do is just slide along and not fall off the edges.
I guess it's kind of like how my grandfather handled one of my stepfathers. Said stepfather had come to bother Mom or me or someone, I don't even remember the circumstances. Anyway, Grandpa told him that if he came near us again, he would kill them. He knew he'd go to jail for it, but he reasoned that he was an old man and soon to die, so it's not like he'd be in jail for a long time.
So yeah, this is the comfort I'm finding in turning 40. I am comforted by the fact that I am closer to death and so there is less to really worry about. I'm not sure most people would see that as progress . . . but it doesn't matter if there is progress, because progress just maybe isn't that important anymore.
This is about the time last year when I received my 1099C in the mail and it destroyed my life for the next several weeks. I got this nasty little bit of information on top of dealing with tons of car issues and other annoyances, making for one very unpleasant January. So far this year, we've had to replace a computer, deal with that damned tire thing, and get medical stuff screwed up. Again, it's not really turning out to be all that great of a January.
I think I'm starting to settle in to this idea of being 40, though probably for the wrong reasons. I'm hitting this weird kind of zen about the whole thing . . . . because I know I'm on the downhill slide towards death!! I am serious about that! I'm actually looking at this as a good thing. See, things are scarier when you're 20 and you have potentially 60 to 80 years ahead of you. Me? I'll be slipping back into the stardust in a few decades, so things aren't as scary anymore. All I have to do is just slide along and not fall off the edges.
I guess it's kind of like how my grandfather handled one of my stepfathers. Said stepfather had come to bother Mom or me or someone, I don't even remember the circumstances. Anyway, Grandpa told him that if he came near us again, he would kill them. He knew he'd go to jail for it, but he reasoned that he was an old man and soon to die, so it's not like he'd be in jail for a long time.
So yeah, this is the comfort I'm finding in turning 40. I am comforted by the fact that I am closer to death and so there is less to really worry about. I'm not sure most people would see that as progress . . . but it doesn't matter if there is progress, because progress just maybe isn't that important anymore.
Friday, January 10, 2014
Freedom: Winter 2014
I've been sleeping in layers for weeks now. Every night when I would go to bed, I would have on socks, pants, underwear, an undershirt, a long sleeved shirt, a thin jacket, gloves, and a hat. This has served me well. It keeps me very warm. It is really blissful to wake up with warm hands. At the same time, this is also a really confining way to sleep. The layers start to weigh on me. The cold weather dries out my skin, which means I am always itchy under the layers, especially my back.
Last night, it was just ever so slightly warmer than it had been. As I was getting ready for bed, I realized I could survive without the layers. I smiled at the thought, knowing that i probably wouldn't get a night like this for a while. Then I stripped down to just a long, loose nightgown and panties. It was blissful. I felt so much freedom. I stretched out, curling my toes, and sighing at how much pleasure could be found in just the simple act of being in less clothing. I swear it was like my skin was giggling. Clearly every part of my body needed this.
When I woke up this morning, I was cold. I'd curled up into fetal position in my sleep and had a blanket twisted around me. I was also very, very well rested. I slept better than I had in weeks, mainly because I didn't have so many layers of clothing on me.
Again, it's not as cold tonight as it has been. I certainly plan on sleeping in just the nightgown. No socks, no gloves, no jackets. I'm going to take advantage of the better weather as much as I can because I know we're in for a long, hard winter. The cats always take advantage of any sunlight they get during the day, making the most of it for as long as possible. I think this is a good lesson for everyone. In any bad patch of life, there will always be times when you can revel in a little bit of relief. It may not be much. It may only be for a few hours. If the chance comes up, however, take it. The small moments of pleasure, the tiny little freedoms, these are the things that help us to emotionally survive the hardships. Bask in the sunlight. Strip down to your panties.
Again, it's not as cold tonight as it has been. I certainly plan on sleeping in just the nightgown. No socks, no gloves, no jackets. I'm going to take advantage of the better weather as much as I can because I know we're in for a long, hard winter. The cats always take advantage of any sunlight they get during the day, making the most of it for as long as possible. I think this is a good lesson for everyone. In any bad patch of life, there will always be times when you can revel in a little bit of relief. It may not be much. It may only be for a few hours. If the chance comes up, however, take it. The small moments of pleasure, the tiny little freedoms, these are the things that help us to emotionally survive the hardships. Bask in the sunlight. Strip down to your panties.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Paid for Skill
I finished my first commissioned hat today. I made a little extra on it because I finished it quickly, which made me quite happy about the whole thing. It actually made the hat more profitable as well. I need to get more confident about this. Emotionally, it was difficult to let the hat go. I could see every flaw on it and felt it wasn't worth being sold. Part of this means I need to continue to improve. The other part of it kind of explains why I'm poor. I have this strange sense of guilt when I get paid for doing things that I should be paid to do. It's so strange.
I guess it's one of the reasons I don't monetize and/or promote this blog. I love the blog and I consider myself a blogger, but the idea of making money off of it would probably destroy it. My motivations would change. I think my content would change. If you read this blog, I am assuming it's because you get the organic me (in whatever mood I happen to be in) and I'm not sure you would get that any more if I was being paid to do it. You'd get me trying to be clever and entertaining on purpose . . . which would probably suck.
At the same time, I know that my creations are my strength and if I'm going to make an independent living, that is how I could do it in the way that made me the most happy. There is such a feeling of accomplishment when a project is finished. I want to write and draw and make dolls. I want to make money doing these things. And yet some impulse holds me back from it.
I think I have the topic for my next therapy session.
I guess it's one of the reasons I don't monetize and/or promote this blog. I love the blog and I consider myself a blogger, but the idea of making money off of it would probably destroy it. My motivations would change. I think my content would change. If you read this blog, I am assuming it's because you get the organic me (in whatever mood I happen to be in) and I'm not sure you would get that any more if I was being paid to do it. You'd get me trying to be clever and entertaining on purpose . . . which would probably suck.
At the same time, I know that my creations are my strength and if I'm going to make an independent living, that is how I could do it in the way that made me the most happy. There is such a feeling of accomplishment when a project is finished. I want to write and draw and make dolls. I want to make money doing these things. And yet some impulse holds me back from it.
I think I have the topic for my next therapy session.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Desk Drama
As I was raised poor (and by grandparents who grew up during the Depression), I am always loathe to throw anything away if it is still functional. I'd rather repurpose it, store it, or give it away. At the same time, I don't want to be a hoarder. In fact, I worry about hoarding a lot, especially once I found out that hoarders can get this mental condition to where they just don't see all the piles of junk building up in their house. With that in mind, I try my best to occasionally purge the house of stuff we don't need. Still, if something is useful, I will keep it until it just absolutely breaks beyond repair. Just as an example, I have a plastic laundry basket that I got in 1992. It's still functional, so I still have it.
Also back in the 90s, though towards the later end of them, I bought a computer desk. I wanted a strong one that could store a lot of stuff. And back then, of course, they needed to be strong because computers (and especially monitors) weighed a ton. The desk had a hutch on it that held cds and extra books (or paper, if you needed it to). It had a keyboard tray, but over that was a slanted board to hold papers or books you might need as reference as you typed. It had a shelf for the printer, a shelf for a scanner, a compartment for the pc, and room to spare.
In other words, it was big, bulky, cumbersome, and dominated most spaces. In my 20s, I kind of loved it for that. These days, I was tired of it taking up so much space.
We put the desk in the front part of the living room, with the hope of creating a printing hub/office space in that part of the room. The desk housed a computer, a fucked up printer, an ancient scanner, and whatever cat happened to decide to hide on it. Because the desk was so thick, it wasn't really possible to leave an office chair in front of it. Because it had no chair and to get one to it was annoying, the computer on it never really got messed with or updated. After a few years, the computer on it was fairly much a relic.
Recently, we decided to remove some stuff from the valuable space that is the living room area. The things in the living room should be both functional and useful to us. All of the outdated computer stuff on the desk needed to be removed from the room to make way for craft/art supply storage. The desk also needed to go. And while this was a wonderful thing because that damned desk is a pain in everyone's ass, it also bothered me on a moral level. I hated it, but it was still functional . . . I just couldn't stand the thought of throwing it away.
We debated about this for days, going over possible ways to repurpose or give away or do something with that desk. I suggested it become a habitat for the outdoor cats, but my roommate pointed out that it would warp in the weather and then be even harder to take apart. We asked some people if they needed a desk, but found no takers. We thought about just breaking it down and storing it flat, but realized we didn't have the room and it would be almost impossible to try and put it back together. This morning, as it is the day we take out trash, we knew we had no choice. The desk had to be disassembled, scavenged for parts, and the rest thrown away.
It's funny how inspiration hits you. I think it's always a good idea to really keep an open mind whenever a scenario like this happens. Stay calm, because creativity and insight hit you the most when you're calm.
My roommate removed the slanted piece that hid the keyboard. He stepped back to look at the desk and I remarked how much better it looked,even with just that one piece gone. And as I said that, I suddenly saw the new purpose of this old desk. With that piece gone, it was the right height, open enough, and strong enough to function as a sewing table.
The desk is now out of the living room. A bookshelf sits in its place, waiting to house art supplies. And in my room, I now have a sewing table. All the sewing supplies and the sewing machines have been taken out of storage. They sit on the shelves of the desk, ready for use whenever we need to sew something.
I am so thrilled about this! For one thing, supplies that have been neglected due to their inconvenient placement are now easily accessed. For another thing, space that was just kind of used in a blah way is now used in a far more functional way. And most of all, because I am so opposed to discarding stuff that still works, I am beyond happy that the desk has found a new purpose. It has a new life as a sewing station. And all the villagers rejoiced.
Also back in the 90s, though towards the later end of them, I bought a computer desk. I wanted a strong one that could store a lot of stuff. And back then, of course, they needed to be strong because computers (and especially monitors) weighed a ton. The desk had a hutch on it that held cds and extra books (or paper, if you needed it to). It had a keyboard tray, but over that was a slanted board to hold papers or books you might need as reference as you typed. It had a shelf for the printer, a shelf for a scanner, a compartment for the pc, and room to spare.
In other words, it was big, bulky, cumbersome, and dominated most spaces. In my 20s, I kind of loved it for that. These days, I was tired of it taking up so much space.
We put the desk in the front part of the living room, with the hope of creating a printing hub/office space in that part of the room. The desk housed a computer, a fucked up printer, an ancient scanner, and whatever cat happened to decide to hide on it. Because the desk was so thick, it wasn't really possible to leave an office chair in front of it. Because it had no chair and to get one to it was annoying, the computer on it never really got messed with or updated. After a few years, the computer on it was fairly much a relic.
Recently, we decided to remove some stuff from the valuable space that is the living room area. The things in the living room should be both functional and useful to us. All of the outdated computer stuff on the desk needed to be removed from the room to make way for craft/art supply storage. The desk also needed to go. And while this was a wonderful thing because that damned desk is a pain in everyone's ass, it also bothered me on a moral level. I hated it, but it was still functional . . . I just couldn't stand the thought of throwing it away.
We debated about this for days, going over possible ways to repurpose or give away or do something with that desk. I suggested it become a habitat for the outdoor cats, but my roommate pointed out that it would warp in the weather and then be even harder to take apart. We asked some people if they needed a desk, but found no takers. We thought about just breaking it down and storing it flat, but realized we didn't have the room and it would be almost impossible to try and put it back together. This morning, as it is the day we take out trash, we knew we had no choice. The desk had to be disassembled, scavenged for parts, and the rest thrown away.
It's funny how inspiration hits you. I think it's always a good idea to really keep an open mind whenever a scenario like this happens. Stay calm, because creativity and insight hit you the most when you're calm.
My roommate removed the slanted piece that hid the keyboard. He stepped back to look at the desk and I remarked how much better it looked,even with just that one piece gone. And as I said that, I suddenly saw the new purpose of this old desk. With that piece gone, it was the right height, open enough, and strong enough to function as a sewing table.
The desk is now out of the living room. A bookshelf sits in its place, waiting to house art supplies. And in my room, I now have a sewing table. All the sewing supplies and the sewing machines have been taken out of storage. They sit on the shelves of the desk, ready for use whenever we need to sew something.
I am so thrilled about this! For one thing, supplies that have been neglected due to their inconvenient placement are now easily accessed. For another thing, space that was just kind of used in a blah way is now used in a far more functional way. And most of all, because I am so opposed to discarding stuff that still works, I am beyond happy that the desk has found a new purpose. It has a new life as a sewing station. And all the villagers rejoiced.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Seven Days In
Again I am sitting in Rabbitkiller. Again I am doing so because of a tire on the van. This is the same tire we've had them look at twice now. They keep claiming there is nothing wrong with it, but clearly there is or it wouldn't keep going down. I just hope that whatever s wrong with it isn't "fat woman drives the van," although I worry this may be the case. I guess I should worry less about that these days because I weigh less than I uses to, but that's just not the case.
This will be my third trip to the mechanic today. I went before therapy to have them look at the tires on Rabbitkiller. This took forever because they checked the tires for some chatty cop first. I was almost late for my appointment. I cursed under my breath a lot. Now that I live with someone who values schedules, I have began to value them as well.
Being a jobless person has made value my time more as well. You would think it wouldn't, but when you don't work, people act like your time and your plans mean nothing. They think they can change things for you at any point and you will be okay with it. And yeah, most of the time it is no big deal. Other times, it feels very disrespectful, especially when it is something to do with an aspect of my health or money.
There ended up being a sliver of metal in the tire, which doesn't sound like it was the fat woman's fault. Yay. Unless, you know, that piece of metal got in there because the fat woman makes the car gain more metal or something. Though, being more metal would make me cooler. Now that the van is home, perhaps the rest of the day can proceed in peace.
Before you think today was just a study in bitchery, some really good stuff happened. I sold a beard/hat and will be receiving the stuff to make my commissioned hat tonight. Plus, my roommate got this killed new plan with our phone provider which means, for the first time in almost a decade, I get a new phone!! Yay!!!!!! This is such great news because my Nokia's screen is so scratched, I can't even see out of it anymore.
So yeah, a mixed bag for the seventh day of the new year. Lots of good stuff, lots of annoying stuff. Still, I'm not going to let the bad stuff outweigh the great things that happened. A. New. Freaking. PHONE!! Whatever will I do?
So yeah, a mixed bag for the seventh day of the new year. Lots of good stuff, lots of annoying stuff. Still, I'm not going to let the bad stuff outweigh the great things that happened. A. New. Freaking. PHONE!! Whatever will I do?
Monday, January 6, 2014
Freezing Temps
Very little, to nothing, in my life is designed to handle the level of cold we experienced today. This includes me. After just a few hours of being outside, mostly in a car, mind you, I still have chilblains on my toes. Those aren't comfortable, by the way. I do not recommend them. The van did not like the cold. It made protesty noises all the way to the store. The plastic carrier things that I use to handle multiple grocery bags did not like the cold. They kept trying not to close or to distort from their shape.
Most of all, the cats do not like this weather, which is ironic because they're the most suited for it. One of them climbed in my lap and basically demanded every blanket near me. Another one huddled near my roommate and did the same. Tinkerbell kept to herself, but we discussed her issues yesterday.
Tomorrow is supposed to be equally cold and I'm not looking forward to it. I have to be out during the morning, going to therapy and paying some bills. I'm hoping this is the last really crazy horribly cold time we have, though I'm somewhat doubting that. It's shaping up to be one hell of a nasty winter. Dammit.
Most of all, the cats do not like this weather, which is ironic because they're the most suited for it. One of them climbed in my lap and basically demanded every blanket near me. Another one huddled near my roommate and did the same. Tinkerbell kept to herself, but we discussed her issues yesterday.
Tomorrow is supposed to be equally cold and I'm not looking forward to it. I have to be out during the morning, going to therapy and paying some bills. I'm hoping this is the last really crazy horribly cold time we have, though I'm somewhat doubting that. It's shaping up to be one hell of a nasty winter. Dammit.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
Hella Cold, With Extra Hell
As I am typing this, it is all of 14 degrees outside. That, oh my brothers and sisters, is a bit too cold for my blood. Also, the little chart on Weather Channel informs me that it feel 4 degrees. Four. Winter, I am not sure what kind of game you are playing this year, but no one likes it. Stahp.
I got into a fight with Tinkerbell last night. My roommate had put the Netflix thingy on the computer-desk-that-holds-no-computer-so-Tink-sits-on-it. Tink now feels like said desk is her domain and that anything on or near it is hers for the taking. Normally, this isn't too much of a problem, but the Netflix thingy is technically something we don't own and needs to be treated with respect (unlike our other stuff).
So Tink starts playing with the package, wiggling it up and down along the ridge of the desk. It was loud and clearly something she's not supposed to be doing. My roommate was already asleep, so it fell to me to correct her. Or at least, I assumed that was my role as I turned around and whispered to her in Firm Mom voice. "Tink, no."
I received no eye contact or acknowledgement. She just kept playing with the Netflix.
"Tink, you leave that alone."
Nothing.
"TINKERBELL! YOU STOP THAT NOW!"
Now that hissed whisper got her attention. Her little paw froze on the Netflix and she moved it away. I had eye contact now, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. As I've mentioned before, Tink claims my roommate. She does not claim me. She doesn't even really like me much. And in that moment, as she was watching me with those angry kitty eyes, I knew what every step parent with good intentions must feel like. Her look was "YOU ARE NOT MY MOM AND I HATE YOU HATE YOU!" in its pure anger and resentment. I really hope I didn't cringe when I saw that look. It's possible I did.
I went back to listening to music, putting the whole mess out of my mind. Or at least, I did until about half an hour later when I looked back at the desk and saw that she was still staring at me with that same angry look. Cats have some very intense opinions about things and cats can hold some serious grudges. I'm pretty sure Tinkerbell was plotting my death, or at the very least, plotting some way to maim me.
I'm starting to think it's going to take this cat a lot longer to accept me that I'd anticipated. I thought with the colder weather, she'd be more interested in hanging out with the family. She isn't. She has thick fur and deep stubbornness. Every day she wakes up and renews her commitment to tolerate my roommate, snicker at the other two cats, and hate me.
I do not like being the step-mom.
I got into a fight with Tinkerbell last night. My roommate had put the Netflix thingy on the computer-desk-that-holds-no-computer-so-Tink-sits-on-it. Tink now feels like said desk is her domain and that anything on or near it is hers for the taking. Normally, this isn't too much of a problem, but the Netflix thingy is technically something we don't own and needs to be treated with respect (unlike our other stuff).
So Tink starts playing with the package, wiggling it up and down along the ridge of the desk. It was loud and clearly something she's not supposed to be doing. My roommate was already asleep, so it fell to me to correct her. Or at least, I assumed that was my role as I turned around and whispered to her in Firm Mom voice. "Tink, no."
I received no eye contact or acknowledgement. She just kept playing with the Netflix.
"Tink, you leave that alone."
Nothing.
"TINKERBELL! YOU STOP THAT NOW!"
Now that hissed whisper got her attention. Her little paw froze on the Netflix and she moved it away. I had eye contact now, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. As I've mentioned before, Tink claims my roommate. She does not claim me. She doesn't even really like me much. And in that moment, as she was watching me with those angry kitty eyes, I knew what every step parent with good intentions must feel like. Her look was "YOU ARE NOT MY MOM AND I HATE YOU HATE YOU!" in its pure anger and resentment. I really hope I didn't cringe when I saw that look. It's possible I did.
I went back to listening to music, putting the whole mess out of my mind. Or at least, I did until about half an hour later when I looked back at the desk and saw that she was still staring at me with that same angry look. Cats have some very intense opinions about things and cats can hold some serious grudges. I'm pretty sure Tinkerbell was plotting my death, or at the very least, plotting some way to maim me.
I'm starting to think it's going to take this cat a lot longer to accept me that I'd anticipated. I thought with the colder weather, she'd be more interested in hanging out with the family. She isn't. She has thick fur and deep stubbornness. Every day she wakes up and renews her commitment to tolerate my roommate, snicker at the other two cats, and hate me.
I do not like being the step-mom.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Walk Up Booking
Today I was innocently sitting by my computer, playing games and thinking about various things. Okay, maybe none of that was truly innocent, but you get the idea. My roommate was in his room, also innocently playing games on his computer. I'm thinking he was actually even being innocent at the time. The cats were in various states of napping. Cats are never innocent.
I heard footsteps on the porch and someone wiggle my door handle. I froze and did my best not to breath. The freezing and the not breathing were an attempt to go unnoticed by whatever person was at the door. This is a pretty useless tactic, as my door is glass and you can see me from inside. I have no idea why I always do this but I always do. Maybe I'm thinking the people outside will think the people who live here bought some life-sized fat woman statue.
The person didn't knock though. They just wiggled the handle again and walked away. I stayed frozen, wondering what had just happened. Clementine has put on winter pounds, but not enough to sound like a fully grown human in stompy boots. My roommate came out of his bedroom, looking as confused as I was. He opened the door to see what was going on and discovered a book had been left for us.
Said book was one of those religious publications of the crazytown variety. You know, the kind printed in some tiny font, on brown paper, set in two columns, and just full of the ravings of paranoid crazy people. It's pure propaganda, written with a kind of fevered madness . . . and not well-written either.
Here's the problem though. I am not the kind of person who just wants to trash a book. It seems morally wrong to do so. But I will never read this and no one I know will ever read this. What do I do with it? I don't want to keep it. I have this THING where I only want things in my house that I use. Now this random person in heavy boots has showed up, unasked for, and fucked up my system.
This is worse than giving someone your opinion when they didn't want it. I can ignore your opinion. I can't ignore a physical something you gave me, especially when it is presented in bookform. Now I have a damned responsibility to do SOMETHING with the book. Hint . . .that something will NOT be reading it.
If you, as a religious organization, have money to toss around, why not give to to a cause that will actually benefit people? Why not give it to the food bank or help someone pay their bills? Why not buy some stuff for the police or help the old people? Why waste your money on books no one will read? How is that doing any good at all? How is that really promoting your message at all?
In the meantime, whichever one of my friends pisses me off the most will get that book as a gift this year.
I heard footsteps on the porch and someone wiggle my door handle. I froze and did my best not to breath. The freezing and the not breathing were an attempt to go unnoticed by whatever person was at the door. This is a pretty useless tactic, as my door is glass and you can see me from inside. I have no idea why I always do this but I always do. Maybe I'm thinking the people outside will think the people who live here bought some life-sized fat woman statue.
The person didn't knock though. They just wiggled the handle again and walked away. I stayed frozen, wondering what had just happened. Clementine has put on winter pounds, but not enough to sound like a fully grown human in stompy boots. My roommate came out of his bedroom, looking as confused as I was. He opened the door to see what was going on and discovered a book had been left for us.
Said book was one of those religious publications of the crazytown variety. You know, the kind printed in some tiny font, on brown paper, set in two columns, and just full of the ravings of paranoid crazy people. It's pure propaganda, written with a kind of fevered madness . . . and not well-written either.
Here's the problem though. I am not the kind of person who just wants to trash a book. It seems morally wrong to do so. But I will never read this and no one I know will ever read this. What do I do with it? I don't want to keep it. I have this THING where I only want things in my house that I use. Now this random person in heavy boots has showed up, unasked for, and fucked up my system.
This is worse than giving someone your opinion when they didn't want it. I can ignore your opinion. I can't ignore a physical something you gave me, especially when it is presented in bookform. Now I have a damned responsibility to do SOMETHING with the book. Hint . . .that something will NOT be reading it.
If you, as a religious organization, have money to toss around, why not give to to a cause that will actually benefit people? Why not give it to the food bank or help someone pay their bills? Why not buy some stuff for the police or help the old people? Why waste your money on books no one will read? How is that doing any good at all? How is that really promoting your message at all?
In the meantime, whichever one of my friends pisses me off the most will get that book as a gift this year.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Third
First of all, I would like to congratulate my roommate on both of the accomplishments he talks about in his blog. When I think about how things were 14 years ago as compared to now, I am very proud of what he has accomplished with his life. His blog is three years old today and if it wasn't for his blog and his encouraging, this blog wouldn't exist. And I'm very glad it exists.
Aside from his blog entry, we didn't talk or really acknowledge the anniversary of this date. We did other stuff. We had errands to run and some bills to pay. I was a total bitchy ragehound while driving. It might have had something to do with having just woken up from a lovely nap or possibly low blood sugar. Logic tells me it was the fact that everyone else on the road was stupid. And they were.
My roommate, who at one point just started laughing at my grumbling, said that for the most part, my commentary to other drivers was coming out in snarls and growls. I guess I saved most of the actual cussing for when I was trying to find a parking spot. This took forever. I think I was only in my parking spot for three or four minutes before he was finished with what he was doing in the store.
My bad mood aside, we ran our errands, got lunch, and came home. The rest of the day has been quiet and peaceful. We watched a couple of TV shows, though they both proved to be confusing and jumbled. I really do not think taking four weeks off during the holidays is a good thing. People lose their momentum and interest in things. We all have short attention spans now.
The thing is, doing the normal things today was, in its own way, the best form of acknowledgement for this anniversary. Outside of a cure for HIV, the biggest victory comes in the form of days where everything is normal and sedate. Fourteen years ago, when we found out that my roommate was positive, I didn't know if he would live. I was worried he wouldn't because he was very ill, the medication was very expensive, and we were really far away from any type of assistance.
These days, he works on his health every day. He is on top of his meds and doctor appointments. We have a home, modest security, and a strange little life filled with humor, long conversations, creativity, and cats. I'm very grateful to have that and very grateful to have him.
Aside from his blog entry, we didn't talk or really acknowledge the anniversary of this date. We did other stuff. We had errands to run and some bills to pay. I was a total bitchy ragehound while driving. It might have had something to do with having just woken up from a lovely nap or possibly low blood sugar. Logic tells me it was the fact that everyone else on the road was stupid. And they were.
My roommate, who at one point just started laughing at my grumbling, said that for the most part, my commentary to other drivers was coming out in snarls and growls. I guess I saved most of the actual cussing for when I was trying to find a parking spot. This took forever. I think I was only in my parking spot for three or four minutes before he was finished with what he was doing in the store.
My bad mood aside, we ran our errands, got lunch, and came home. The rest of the day has been quiet and peaceful. We watched a couple of TV shows, though they both proved to be confusing and jumbled. I really do not think taking four weeks off during the holidays is a good thing. People lose their momentum and interest in things. We all have short attention spans now.
The thing is, doing the normal things today was, in its own way, the best form of acknowledgement for this anniversary. Outside of a cure for HIV, the biggest victory comes in the form of days where everything is normal and sedate. Fourteen years ago, when we found out that my roommate was positive, I didn't know if he would live. I was worried he wouldn't because he was very ill, the medication was very expensive, and we were really far away from any type of assistance.
These days, he works on his health every day. He is on top of his meds and doctor appointments. We have a home, modest security, and a strange little life filled with humor, long conversations, creativity, and cats. I'm very grateful to have that and very grateful to have him.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Here In The Car
On Jan. 2, I rode with a friend to Fort Smith so she could get some enrollment stuff done at the college. I waited in the car while she was talking to them. I listened to a podcast and worked on this blog post. I like having the iTouch, although even before I did, I was still always very good at entertaining myself. I think this springs from a childhood spent waiting in the car by myself.
Of course these days it would be unheard of to leave your kid in the car. I get it, really. Our weather is more extreme than it used to be and it seems there are more crazy folk out there who would take an interest in hurting kids.
This really sucks though. When I was a kid, I loved being in the car by myself. I wasn't in the crappy house and I wasn't having to directly deal with my crazy family. Cars were a safe zone for me. Even if the car is hot or too cold or whatever, I still feel more content while I am alone in a car than just about anywhere else in the world.
This isn't to say I was always exactly safe when I was by myself in a car. In fact, one of my more scary moments happened during one of these instances. I was in middle school at the time, I think about 12 or 13. Like a lot of kids who lived in perpetual PTSD, I had certain rituals I would do to send myself into fugue states. Usually just being in a car was enough to zone me out, but sometimes, if I was stressed out too much, I would need a push to get my mind to disconnect.
One of the ways that I did this was to light stuff on fire and watch it burn. Both steps were always needed for me to really feel the level of contentment I needed to get me through whatever it was my mind was trying to process. And yes, I know how psycho that sounds. It was psycho but at the time, it was also something I very much needed. It was dangerous and destructive, but it honestly helped me to survive.
I was in my dad's car so it must have been a Sunday. Dad always came to get us on Sundays. We were in Fort Smith and he was in some store with my brother. It was dark and I'd been left in the car by myself. I don't remember the details of what made that day horrible, but something had because I decided I needed to burn things. Dad was a smoker and always had lighters around. More than likely, I would have had a lighter in my purse anyway.
There was some strips of plastic laying by the lighter. I picked one of them up and held it above the lighter's flame. They burned delightfully. Even all these years later I can remember being thrilled as a hole formed in the middle of the plastic and everything faded out of existence in little bubbles of black and pops. In that moment, it was so, so beautiful.
The rush of happiness filled me as it burned, my breathing slowed and I felt like everything was right with the world. For a few minutes after the plastic was gone, I sat in total contentment. It didn't last though. It never did. I picked up the next strip of plastic to repeat the process.
This time, it didn't go as planned. As the plastic heated, it flipped back on the fingers holding it. It was just melted enough to adhere to my skin. I dropped the lighter (which thankfully lost its flame) and screamed in pain as the hot plastic sealed to me. It was white hot stabbing pain, violent and angry and so deeply sudden. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the plastic away from my flesh, watching as a layer of said flesh came with it.
I didn't tell anyone about my injury because it would have involved admitting I was burning stuff. If my family knew that, they would have made a big deal out of it, in as so much as it related to or affected them. Thankfully, none of them really paid that much attention to me otherwise, so I was able to muddle through life as best I could with my injured fingers. They healed after a while, but if I think too much about it, I can still remember that pain in vivid detail.
These days, as I am armed with some small measure more of sanity, security, and judgement, I no longer sit in the car and set things on fire. These days, I knit or play games or read. I often listen to music and now that I have the iTouch, I'm pretty apt to write in the car.
I have to admit that all of these things are easier when I'm alone in the car. I enjoy my time there and I probably always will. I also think it sucks that climate and crazyfucks have made it almost impossible for any generations past me to truly have this joy as children.
Then again, most of them would probably just set stuff on fire too.
This isn't to say I was always exactly safe when I was by myself in a car. In fact, one of my more scary moments happened during one of these instances. I was in middle school at the time, I think about 12 or 13. Like a lot of kids who lived in perpetual PTSD, I had certain rituals I would do to send myself into fugue states. Usually just being in a car was enough to zone me out, but sometimes, if I was stressed out too much, I would need a push to get my mind to disconnect.
One of the ways that I did this was to light stuff on fire and watch it burn. Both steps were always needed for me to really feel the level of contentment I needed to get me through whatever it was my mind was trying to process. And yes, I know how psycho that sounds. It was psycho but at the time, it was also something I very much needed. It was dangerous and destructive, but it honestly helped me to survive.
I was in my dad's car so it must have been a Sunday. Dad always came to get us on Sundays. We were in Fort Smith and he was in some store with my brother. It was dark and I'd been left in the car by myself. I don't remember the details of what made that day horrible, but something had because I decided I needed to burn things. Dad was a smoker and always had lighters around. More than likely, I would have had a lighter in my purse anyway.
There was some strips of plastic laying by the lighter. I picked one of them up and held it above the lighter's flame. They burned delightfully. Even all these years later I can remember being thrilled as a hole formed in the middle of the plastic and everything faded out of existence in little bubbles of black and pops. In that moment, it was so, so beautiful.
The rush of happiness filled me as it burned, my breathing slowed and I felt like everything was right with the world. For a few minutes after the plastic was gone, I sat in total contentment. It didn't last though. It never did. I picked up the next strip of plastic to repeat the process.
This time, it didn't go as planned. As the plastic heated, it flipped back on the fingers holding it. It was just melted enough to adhere to my skin. I dropped the lighter (which thankfully lost its flame) and screamed in pain as the hot plastic sealed to me. It was white hot stabbing pain, violent and angry and so deeply sudden. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the plastic away from my flesh, watching as a layer of said flesh came with it.
I didn't tell anyone about my injury because it would have involved admitting I was burning stuff. If my family knew that, they would have made a big deal out of it, in as so much as it related to or affected them. Thankfully, none of them really paid that much attention to me otherwise, so I was able to muddle through life as best I could with my injured fingers. They healed after a while, but if I think too much about it, I can still remember that pain in vivid detail.
These days, as I am armed with some small measure more of sanity, security, and judgement, I no longer sit in the car and set things on fire. These days, I knit or play games or read. I often listen to music and now that I have the iTouch, I'm pretty apt to write in the car.
I have to admit that all of these things are easier when I'm alone in the car. I enjoy my time there and I probably always will. I also think it sucks that climate and crazyfucks have made it almost impossible for any generations past me to truly have this joy as children.
Then again, most of them would probably just set stuff on fire too.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
First Day Superstitions
I'm weirdly superstitious about New Year's Day. I believe in eating my blackeyed peas. This brings you good fortune for the year. I also believe that what you do on the first day of the year will reflect what you do for the rest of that year. With that in mind, I was certain to include various things in my day. There were some other things that happened that I didn't so much plan, but feel very good about anyway.
First of all, I did positive things to take care of myself. I exercised, brushed my teeth and hair, bathed, and ate fresh fruit. I sorted my meds and made sure to take them. These are all activities that I feel are vital to my life during the coming year. I want to stay as healthy as possible, physically and mentally. All of the above actions lead to better health and wellness. If I do no more than these things where my health is concerned, I will be at least walking in the right direction.
If Christmas taught me anything, it was that my social skills need to be rekindled. To this end, I tried my best to make some meager connections with people on Facebook. I sent a couple of messages. I commented on some things. I wished everyone who was having a birthday a happy one. I liked some things and even made plans with a friend. Of course, none of these things are large steps towards more social interaction, but they were, at the very least, active ones. I participated a small bit. It's something.
I also spent time talking to my friends. Not all of them, but at least some of them. The thing is though, I'm socially FINE with small tiny groups of people. It's just when you start adding and adding that I begin to emotionally freak out. I handled the six other people at my dad's house just fine. Any more people than that, however, and my brain starts to skip sideways.
As luck would have it, this was the day we take the trash out. On a symbolic level, I was happy with this. I love the idea of spending the year in actions that result in me removing things I don't need. Purging is a beautiful thing.
My roommate also solved a small mystery that had been going on. We kept finding these stray bits of gray plastic in the driveway. The van has a lot of gray plastic on it, so we thought it was from it, though we could never find anything that seemed broken. It's been puzzling us for a couple of weeks. We were starting to worry if maybe the plastic was something off the house. This could have been bad.
Anyway, as I was walking my trash out, my roommate was outside already. He'd taken his part of the trash to the curb and was busy pulling dead bits from one of the plants.
"Hey," he said. "Look at the broom. Do you notice anything missing?"
I looked at the broom. I noticed that the little cap that covers the part where the bristles join the handle was gone. "Yes," I said, "it's missing the......thingymajigger." As always, my Masters in Communications was being put to excellent use.
"And what is that made out of?"
"Um......metal?" Because of course, we could afford a broom with metal thingymajiggers.
"Nope," he said. "It was made from plastic. Gray plastic." And of course, this broom takes the brunt of our outside abuse. It brushes snow off of the van. It's used to prop up the top of the van when it won't stay open. There are probably tons of ways the thingymajigger could have fallen off of it and hit the driveway to become broken bits of mystery plastic.
Besides the unexpected solving of mysteries, today also happened to be the day I finished a hat. I'm hopeful about this because if I am finishing projects on the first day of the year, maybe I can keep finishing them throughout the year. That would be such a pleasant change of pace for me.
All in all, it was a great first day of the year. I accomplished the stuff I wanted to accomplish. I got to have some nice added stuff along with that. I finished a project, and we solved a mystery. If the rest of the year goes like this, it could be really fun.
First of all, I did positive things to take care of myself. I exercised, brushed my teeth and hair, bathed, and ate fresh fruit. I sorted my meds and made sure to take them. These are all activities that I feel are vital to my life during the coming year. I want to stay as healthy as possible, physically and mentally. All of the above actions lead to better health and wellness. If I do no more than these things where my health is concerned, I will be at least walking in the right direction.
If Christmas taught me anything, it was that my social skills need to be rekindled. To this end, I tried my best to make some meager connections with people on Facebook. I sent a couple of messages. I commented on some things. I wished everyone who was having a birthday a happy one. I liked some things and even made plans with a friend. Of course, none of these things are large steps towards more social interaction, but they were, at the very least, active ones. I participated a small bit. It's something.
I also spent time talking to my friends. Not all of them, but at least some of them. The thing is though, I'm socially FINE with small tiny groups of people. It's just when you start adding and adding that I begin to emotionally freak out. I handled the six other people at my dad's house just fine. Any more people than that, however, and my brain starts to skip sideways.
As luck would have it, this was the day we take the trash out. On a symbolic level, I was happy with this. I love the idea of spending the year in actions that result in me removing things I don't need. Purging is a beautiful thing.
My roommate also solved a small mystery that had been going on. We kept finding these stray bits of gray plastic in the driveway. The van has a lot of gray plastic on it, so we thought it was from it, though we could never find anything that seemed broken. It's been puzzling us for a couple of weeks. We were starting to worry if maybe the plastic was something off the house. This could have been bad.
Anyway, as I was walking my trash out, my roommate was outside already. He'd taken his part of the trash to the curb and was busy pulling dead bits from one of the plants.
"Hey," he said. "Look at the broom. Do you notice anything missing?"
I looked at the broom. I noticed that the little cap that covers the part where the bristles join the handle was gone. "Yes," I said, "it's missing the......thingymajigger." As always, my Masters in Communications was being put to excellent use.
"And what is that made out of?"
"Um......metal?" Because of course, we could afford a broom with metal thingymajiggers.
"Nope," he said. "It was made from plastic. Gray plastic." And of course, this broom takes the brunt of our outside abuse. It brushes snow off of the van. It's used to prop up the top of the van when it won't stay open. There are probably tons of ways the thingymajigger could have fallen off of it and hit the driveway to become broken bits of mystery plastic.
Besides the unexpected solving of mysteries, today also happened to be the day I finished a hat. I'm hopeful about this because if I am finishing projects on the first day of the year, maybe I can keep finishing them throughout the year. That would be such a pleasant change of pace for me.
All in all, it was a great first day of the year. I accomplished the stuff I wanted to accomplish. I got to have some nice added stuff along with that. I finished a project, and we solved a mystery. If the rest of the year goes like this, it could be really fun.
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