HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

Self Love is

Knowing what you need

EVERYDAY

Then making sure

You RECEIVE it.

💜💖💜

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!!

Self Love is

Asking yourself what you need

EVERYDAY

And then making sure

You receive it.

💜💖💜

New Year, New Dynamic

Mom died.

It’s been about seven weeks since her passing.  Time seems to go buy at different speeds at the same time.  I’ve hit new levels of stooopid I never knew I could.  I’m still not eating right, sleeping well or taking care of myself as I should.  The only thing I’ve been capable of doing is making crochets shawls.  I can count to 8, I can sit and watch it grow and not have to do anything else.  Since December 1, her last time to the hospital, I’ve made seven shawls.  One is my “house hold” shawl because I would rather wrap up than turn up the heat.  I seem to  keep going back to the hook for comfort.  They feel like hugs.  I’m trying to make one for all the women/girls in the family for the boat ride out to skater Mom’s ashes.  Hopefully I will be more back in the world by April.

I  haven’t really cried yet.  Maybe writing this out might break open the flood gates and release the torrent of tears that are just waiting for the opportunity to flow.  I don’t know why it seems so hard to express myself that way.  It could be the general fear of crying; if I start I won’t be able to stop.  Or it could be the medication is still providing the buffer that keeps me from completely dissolving into a puddle.  I’ve gotten the basics down in my journal but not really the emotions.  I wonder if I’m actually going to have any.  I mean, it’s not like this is out of the blue.  I’ve spent the last 12 years taking care of her as she, well not exactly slowly, declined.  The last three to five years have been the hardest, and living with her and taking care of her really tore the wellspring of hope out of me several times.  It did happen really fast, in the hospital on the 1st, back home by the 5th, then dead by the 10th.  There wasn’t  a rally coherent good by on her end due to the hypoxia from the lack of oxygen.

My team of professionals and myself have held the theory/belief that part if not most of my depression and anxiety was due to my environment.  Maybe I’m overmedicated now that the environment has changed or maybe I’m so completely overwhelmed (I had my car broken into after the memorial service and I drove myself to see my sister C. run in the Carlsbad marathon, I lost my job when I lost my mother, going back to school in February, and creditors filing suit).  I’m overwhelmed.  I guess I should stop trying to push myself so hard and try to do things one day, one task, one blog post at a time.

I’ve had some dark days, but in general I still have the light and hope for my future, so I don’t believe I’m back in the void, although, truth be told crawling back into that warm dark place to hide sounds really inviting..  I’ve had more bouts of anxiety than depression, I’m becoming more aware of my desire to take care of myself (like eat, bathe, change clothes, etc.)  In some ways I feel like I’ve been reborn into this world but I’m going to have to fend for myself.  I’ve got to find a job that pays well enough for me to write until the nectar of creativity runs dry.

My nephew gave me the best advise yesterday.  I didn’t want to go home, it felt like a trap so he told me when he feels that way he goes out into the world and tries to find something beautiful.  So, I went home briefly and grabbed Sammy and we took a trip to the coast and watched the boats in the marina and on the way home on Highway 35, I got pictures of a beautiful sunset over the foothills in the valley.  It was beautiful and my anxiety was calmed.

Time Is Not Kind

Well, I’ve been gone.  I choose to blame my itty-bitty computers hesitation to merge onto the virtual highway.  It was far more work than I felt I could deal with most times…..and sometimes just getting back into the habit of facing my feelings into the ether.

So, for the feelings…..

I am still on the light side of the void, skipping along the bleeding edge of it, but I’ve not fallen back in.  I still have hope, I have dreams….reachable ones…..so I’m okay…or fine as we the afflicted say.  At least there is more hope and dreams to keep me from surrating my self to la la  land.  That said I’m tired, I go through times of anger and frustration and then a affectless dumbness that feels like home.  I’ve gone down on my meds, then gone up a little, but I think it’s time to bring it down again, which means more unruly feelings to tangle with.  I’m not looking forward to dealing with that, but that is the goal…to feel.

Time seems to be pressing down on me, like time is running out with it’s fading ticks and tocks using my spine as a xylophone so I feel intimately the menacing vibrations throughout my whole body.  I wish I could put the world on hold while I go through the last of this never ending form of self/family/friends/world analysis.  I’m trying of trying to figure out if this is something I should be doing, if I’s where I’m supposed to be, if it’s where I’m supposed to go……and knowing this job that I’m doing isn’t done until it’s done, but needing to get out and getting a job, terrified I will melt into a shadow of myself if I get another fulltime job.  Yes, I will have more help this time, but will I, really?

My new plan terrifies me.  The plan is to get a stay-at-home job, working on customer support or something like that…I have a computer that can keep up with me now, and I have a monitor and I can make the office space in my room comfortable and ergo-safe the only problem is my desk is in the same room with my bed and the safest place I know t be is in my bed.

Maybe I am back in the darkness…I dunno.  Trying not to obsess about myself online only made me obsess about myself in the fog of life and only scared myself more.  All the while there is this subsonic rumble coming at me from all directions….Tick…Tock….Tick….Tock.

Be Careful of Your Habits

Be careful of your thoughts for they will become your actions.

Be careful of your actions for they will become your habits.

Be careful of your habits for they will become your character.

I have a nasty habit of pushing things to tomorrow on my ToDo list.  I don’t think I’m unique in that, but I have noticed things on my task list that shouldn’t be, these things should be second nature to someone of my years and education….like showering.  For the record, I don’t smell bad, I think if I did I wouldn’t have a problem remembering to shower.  It’s just by the end of the day I’m too tired and I tend to drag my feet during the day until I have no time before I have to go to school…..(yes I’m in school now….for another blog).  When my pits start to stink I used a flowery underarm solid to control it, when my hair wants to stand on end because of the grease and product I slap on a cute casual or more formal hat.   This was a problem during the depth of my depression, and it seems to have become a solid hang-on habit.  I have everyone terrified in the family to point it out for fear I will take it the wrong way, but then, that conversation would go something like “don’t you ever bathe?” with a wrinkled up nose, a disgusted demeanor and shocked stance.   And I’m not suppose to take it personally, of course.

I thought for a while that when I moved over the line back to the light that all my bad hygene, sleep, and eating habits would go away and I’d be ‘normal’ again.  I’m really starting to hate that word ‘normal’, there really isn’t any such thing as normal.  But it seems the habits I had then are habits that I have now.  Along with trying to rebuild my stamina and not get overwhelmed on a regular basis I have to re-educate myself on practicing good citizenship skills and eating habits.  So annoying.  I just want to be cured, I wanted to cross into the light and be a shining example of what surviving depression is like.  I wanted to be done with this bull crap so I can move on.  But it seems like there is a lot of aftermath that needs to be tended to.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, I am starting to be a house keeper.  Not just someone that turns off the lights when the house needs to be clean, but an actual cleaner….with bleach and everything.  I’m not a fan of the bathroom, I try to keep the toilet clean but beyond that I’m stymied as to how to get the boys dirty foot prints off the bottom of the tub and I really don’t want to try.  I’ve claimed the kitchen as my own and I keep it in working order during the week and let the dishes pile up during the three day weekend, but I am cooking, I’m cleaning and I’m doing all the Molly Mormon stuff I swore I’d never do.  And, I’m enjoying keeping my kitchen the was I want it.  I’ve decorated it with my copper bottom pots and pans, I steam clean the floor regularly and vacuum instead of sweep because the broom is useless.  My room is still in disarray but I’m making it functional.  It’s still hard for me to work in there without the bed monster grabbing me and lulling me to sleep.

So, I started the thought process of changing my mind; thinking about the things I need to do.  I need them to grow into actions and actions into habit and try to reverse the damage done from my days of darkness and anger.  Too bad I can’t wash my brain and make it all better.  I’m sure it would sting a bit but I’d eventually get used to it and be able to move on faster.  Not that fasting is better, it really isn’t.  But the sooner I can get this stage behind me the sooner I can move onward and upward into my plans.  That’s what I’m excited to do!

 

What Dreams May Be

Dreams are like movies directed by the soul.  Your mind works out all the tangles and knots your daily life creates and then smooth’s things over so we don’t all go bat-crap-crazy.  Of which I am truly grateful.   There are certain things, symbols in dreams that are consistent with all the dream weavers out there….

There’s the anxiety dream where you can’t run when you’re being chased.

There’s the project dream where you dream you have a baby, a puppy, or something new born that is in your charge and you need to take care of it.

The wanting to speak dream where you try to say something but your mouth is full of gum or food and no matter how hard you work to pull the stuff out of your mouth you can never quite get it all out, ofrom between your teeth.

The happy dream is where you fly.

My dreams a few nights ago had puppies and flying.  The puppy was the sample of a business idea that someone came up with in my dream…..Send A Friend A Puppy….Even I had a double take in my dream and asked them to repeat it.  It works like this, you have a friend you want to cheer up so instead of flowers you send them a fluffy, clean 6 to 10 week old puppy.  In this case it was a golden retriever puppy.   They come in a box with food and puppy-poopoo-pads and gloves.  You have to admit no matter how sick, sad or frustrated you are, an afternoon with a puppy will take a lot of the gloom and doom and shine up your attitude in no time.  My mind has been feverishly trying to remake the main character in my completed novel less of a push-over and more of an woman that is 75% intelligent and 15% stubborn and 10% without a clue…..like most women.  That’s the new puppy.

Later in that dream I was told that I could fly again.  I didn’t believe them, but they assured me I could.  So I took to the sky and doing my rudimentary swimming motions I propelled myself into the air.  Though I was flying, and I was happy while I was aloft, I noticed that the scarf/sleeve had either sand or rice trying to pull me back towards the ground.  I struggled against gravity and as long as I focused on staying in the air I did.  I love flying in my dreams….they truly are my favorite dreams.  I see this as a promise of present happiness despite of the things that seem to be trying to tie me to the ground.  That’s to my surrender I no long dread or hate or even feel put upon taking care of my Mom.  When she gets angry with me I react internally first and then sort of laugh at the whole thing….she’s like a toothless Chihuahua.  It does kind of make me laugh and I try very hard not to do it in front of her.  So, mom is one of the bags that are trying to hold me down, the other, I believe is my work with OA.  I ran into a woman while getting food for my family and se said some of the OA speak and I asked her.  I told her my problem with getting sponsor and she said she would be more than willing to talk with me.  She said most people that can’t get the fourth step done is because they haven’t truly done the third step: Surrendering to your higher power.  I’m trying to learn to surrender on the celestial level now, trying to surrender myself, my control and my life to God the Father and Jesus Christ.  It’s harder than I thought it would be.  But then anything worth doing is never really easy.  It only seems easy when you see it through the rearview mirror.

I’ve also been having anger dreams where I just rant and rave at my sibling about stuff they don’t understand.  And there have been a few anxiety dreams as well about running out of time, which is an anxiety that chases me in the waking hours as well, but I don’t remember the specifics of the dreams only the impetus of them….the hospice nurse made the comment that Mom was deteriorating and it triggered the anxiety and a feeling a fear and dread at the idea of my mother passing.  (That’s a whole other post).  The events in the dream disappear almost with my eyes focusing on the alarm clock, but the anger and anxiety tend to fuss with my day for a while.

Okay, why the post about dreams?  Because it is confirming what I’m starting to realize myself.  I’m happy, really happy.  And I know I’m burdened some with my responsibilities and my health but I’m still happy.  If surrender brings this much happiness I would hope surrendering to the other conflicts in my life should and would be easier.

Pleasant and prophetic dreams to all!

Gobsmacked by Life

So, when last we met, dear reader, I was embarking of under-employment but ever so hopeful things would continue on the course I had set it on.  I stopped climbing the walls, so to speak only to have the freaking wall fall on me!  I planned on giving myself one week off from work, which is reasonable since I hadn’t really had five straight days to myself since, well, since I don’t remember when….and starting the next week Mom shot up a temperature to like 103.1 and then it would go down, then back up.  I got the temporal thermometer to see if the digital one was not digitizing the information the way we wanted but it was telling the truth.  Which basically means now I have a really cool thermometer…..but I digress.  I called 911 and had them take her to the ER in Mountain View.  If there is one thing I can say about being on anti depressants and anti anxiety SSRI and dopamine enhancers is that when you are faced with something serious your emotions shut down and you can focus on the task at hand get things done. Well, sort of.  Apparently  was being a real pain in the caboose and my humor wasn’t what my sisters would have liked.  After a few long, tiresome hours they realize that Mom was dehydrated.  Who knew you ran a temperature when you are dehydrated.  S. had heard about it when she went through her medical assistant training but she wasn’t sure.  Once that was determined they decided to give her IV fluids and see if it brought her double digit BP back to the normal range….well, normal for an 85 year old woman.  They admitted her around 2 am, I went home and had dinner, took a chill pill and went to bed around 4am.

What I learned from this experience is that 1) the right hospice agency makes all the difference and 2) never make plans that you can’t put off for later.  We’ve changed our hospice agency which is more aggressive towards the pulmonary set, unlike the last one that would have been happy for me to give Mom morphine to calm her down and let her die in her sleep.  The hospital doctor sent her home with a nebulizer and between me and K we have been militant about her getting her treatments, eating whether she wants to or not, and drinking at least two quarts of water a day she is gaining ground.  Just as she started to get back on her feet the holidays descended like a biblical plague.  Okay, so I’m not a bit holiday fan but being broke, being literally tied to the house like some house bound prisoner because Mom doesn’t like to be alone and “misses me” even if I’m in the other room.  Did I mention she’s almost as deaf as a door knob?  (hearing aids are on the list of things to do in the New Year).

I guess what I’m blathering on about is that I’m tired, I feel like a well used rubber band that is still functional if you don’t push it beyond it’s but when too much pressure is applied  it will loose the last of it’s elasticity and then when pushed father will snap and crumble to bits.  My doctor thinks I’m doing fine, but then we didn’t talk about how I imagine sawing through my arms again, or how I want to use a razor to carve a cross hatch pattern from my wrist to the bend in my elbow.  I won’t do it, I know I won’t, I’m too big of a sissy when it comes to physical pain but he seems to think it is something that should be reported to him.  I wish he was tech savvy enough to just read this and prescribe accordingly.  I can’t go up any further on m=any of my meds so what other choice does he have then to tell me I’m doing good and hope the placebo effect will see me through until the stress passes?

I’m pretty sure this will be my last entry for 2014.  May the New Year be bright, healthy and prosperous.  Thank you for reading and following me.

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