Television

There's a television advertisement that comes to mind a lot lately. You see people not smiling at their dog, alone and laying on the couch, and in both cases, looking very despondent. The refrain goes something like "depression hurts, xyz drug can help."

I've been thinking of this commercial a lot because it seems lately as though everything hurts. Everything. My shoulders are tight, lower back acts like its gonna give out at any time, I've got consistent headaches and stomach aches and my bum and the bottom of my feet hurt whenever I stand up. All I want to do is sleep. And if I can't sleep, I want to eat comfort food - potatoes, mac and cheese, burgers and fries, chocolate and caramel, or coffee.

I said in a recent post that I haven't felt like this since Twig was a baby and I had postpartum depression quite severely. It is true now, too. Except the postpartum piece, of course. (Ha!)
The part of this commercial coming to mind that is interesting to me is that I am noticing these symptoms for what I believe they are (I should see the doctor about the headaches -okay everything- just to be safe but I had a physical a couple of months ago and I got a mostly clean bill of health, save the fat cysts and spots on my skin that I need to have checked regularly. Ah to have no olive tones.). While I don't typically like anything advertising stands for, this commercial has been helpful in making my mind aware.

A friend, who is so lovely and wise and spiritual, recently noticed my sadness and reminded me that "it" doesn't have to be this way. The simple sentence in her text reminded me that I am an agent of change. That changing myself and others, systems, beliefs, this is my purpose on this earth.

She suggested that I map out what I want. With big sheets of butcher paper and colored pens, to write my story - to change the course, set my own stage  with my own story, actors, ending(s) - to let the universe know my intentions. It will give me what I need and want - when it is the right time.

Knowing why I hurt is half of the battle. Being reminded that I am an agent of change and the maker of my destiny is part of the strategy. With the help of a television advertisement (and a great friend), now I can do get back to making change.

Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned

Turns out that confession is the best route to giving up on the junk food and crazy feelings of complete and utter self-loathing. Unfortunately, I had to confess to a number of people throughout the week to begin to feel normal again.

But it worked. That's all that matters, right?

The intriguing part of this story is that I was beating myself up for wanting to walk out on my family - my life actually, and that in those moments when I said it out loud, for fear that if I didn't speak Truthfully I really would leave - when I got to telling the person closest to me I learned that he feels the same time - often.

In my distress Wood was supportive and kind. I was rather a hot mess.

Over the weekend he let me sit on my lazy butt and do nothing. I say "let" because he didn't fight too much about what he needed to do in my absence. It's been tough but I've been forcing him more often to step up and take charge of things when I know I can't.

I'm not bingeing on junk food like I was last week. I'm not eating perfectly but I'm on a path toward better. The Boy and I went to the store today - he helped bag all of the groceries AND carry them to the car.



It's the little things that help me to feel whole.

Wrecked

The week has been full of emotional turmoil. The fantasy about walking out on my family was so intense - leading up to it and afterward - that I fell hard into old bad food habits - before and afterward - just to keep functioning.

Monday morning I spent nearly $25 on candy and junk food for the office. Twinkies, Ho-Ho's, peanut butter cups, Rolo's, and Milky Way's. Ugh. Just the act of seeing it in print makes my stomach flip-flop and my skin crawl. By Wednesday morning I'd eaten half of the Twinkies AND Ho-Ho's so I relinquished the rest to a colleague and asked that he require me to have a mini counseling session in order to get something from the box 'o junk food. Since this conversation was in front of several colleagues, I also said "save me from myself". They were given the green light to tease about how the box of junk food was organized by type of junk.

Another colleague walked up on the tail end of the conversation and looked at me as if she was sure I'd already gone mad. Which of course, I explained that I had, and then proceeded to confess that the candy was a futile attempt to stave off bad thoughts - sugar being my drug of choice - about the fantasy in which I walked away from my family with no regard for anything but my own mental health (gasp!). The confession happened to coincide with my office having lost power so I couldn't work anyway - although I kept 4 other people from working for several minutes - and as I explained, if I didn't say it out loud, I was quite certain that it would come to be that the family I worked so hard to have simply disintegrated because of my lack of clarity lately.

By Friday I had polished off an entire bag each of Rolo's and Milky Way. As one colleague, who wasn't privy to the confession on Wednesday morning, so aptly put it when she saw how I'd finished it all off: "you have a serious problem". I explained it was serious mental issues.

I am pretty clear that I've completely screwed my body. The headaches started before the candy but the candy certainly hasn't been making things better. And to think, a year ago I was eating Clean every day of the week. I was probably at the pinnacle of my healthful self then. Now I'm just a walking chemical.

Sugar has always been my go-to food in times of stress - since I was about 8 or so and could make my own bowls of cereal I piled it on. To the point that there were spoonfuls of gritty sugar at the bottom of each bowl. Apparently eating the stuff makes one feel good. I learned from the best - how to binge AND hide it in plain view. My mom would binge at dinner and purge while doing the dishes. At every meal, actually. I was taught only the binge part (thank goodness, I think.) but realize its not serving me well. My body doesn't feel good. I've got swelling feet and hands, arthritic fingers, poor sleep and digestion and roller coaster emotions. Granted I'm not sure if the roller coaster emotions are the chicken or the egg... but I know the food, which I have been really disregarding, is a sign.

I've not felt depression like this since Twig came into my life. Not only during my pregnancy with him but also during his first several years of life. Never before or since that time in my life have I craved chocolate and avocado, nor have I felt so out of control of my food consumption. Out of control, period.

Wrecked is how I feel right now. And as much as I know what I need to do...

It Continues To Grow

That alien feeling in my chest...

I want to stay in bed, take a shower, sleep for days. This morning I fantasized about getting out of bed and leaving. Wood at work already; Twig and Grandma asleep still. No phone, no keys, no shoes or wallet. Just leaving. Walking, running, riding my bike - as fast as I could. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but these feelings.

If wearing the same pants for three days in a row, crying for no apparent good reason, tight painful shoulders, constant headaches, and a penchant only for coffee, twinkies (no joke), and chocolate is a sign - not to mention the running away fantasy - I need something.

Telling myself I can get through it helps only for a millisecond.

The alien is trying to take me over and I'm considering letting it do exactly that.

Oops!

So, I had this phone interview on Monday. Pretty cool. I wasn't really nervous during the conversation, save the few times that I had zero word recall and kept bumbling when things wouldn't come out of my mouth.

It seemed that I gave a fair representation of myself - what's important to me, who I am and such. In retrospect, I could have sold myself a bit better, been a bit more polished, had clearer answers to the questions.

Interviews are such crappy tests. They don't really give credence to who people are in their day to day lives. Some people test well. Some people don't. It's not indicative of who people are - what they have done or can do.

I decided to send an email note to thank the interviewer for the time spent on me. Here's what it said:

"Thank you for talking with me about the ...(title)... position and ...(organization)... earlier this week. I sincerely appreciate your time and consideration, and look forward to the possibility of talking to you again in the near future." 

Perfectly good email. Short, sweet and to the point. Respectful. I thought it was great. Stared at it for several minutes wondering if it was okay. I finally hit send and thought "Done".

It hit me about 15 minutes ago - the title of the email was "Tuesday Phone Interview". 

The interview was on Monday.

Doh!

If I get a face to face interview, I'll be very surprised. Maybe the mistake won't be noticed. Maybe it won't be relevant - all other things being equal.

I'm trying to get to space cadet - que sera sera - and I'm not telling anyone but you.

Queen Crankypants

There's this feeling just below the surface of my chest, kinda close to the heart that is tight, full, and feels like it's ready to climb out and consume everyone in sight. The consumption will be in an alien-esque way - kinda gross and definitely gory.

This weird combination animal is a combination of insecure, sad,overwhelmed, confused, and tired. It doesn't even know what it is. Lately it has been heavy and taking over a bit of my sunny disposition each day.

I need to slay this monster and right quick. Any thoughts?

Confidence

What is it about an interview that can make my confidence plummet to levels not seen since my pre-pubescent years?

Perhaps it's the issue of being last on the field to be chosen. The fact that stumbling over your words is embarrassing. Or that moving on to the next adventure is in my play book - but not necessarily the universe's.

In the end being true to ones own self is monumentally important. I was true to myself today. If I get called to a face-to-face interview, I'll be pleased. If I don't, I'll be disappointed but aware that there are other lessons to learn now. I'll do my best to focus on the positives of the here and now. And learn the lessons I'm supposed to learn.

And remember that I'm pretty hot stuff.

Disinterest

My head has been bothering me all week. A bit dizzy here and there. Sometimes a headache. Congestion periodically.

Thursday whatever it was made it impossible to function so almost as soon as I got to work, I turned around and went home. Slept for several hours and felt better on Friday. Not normal but better.

This weekend the strange symptoms haven't subsided, even with pseudoephedrine, advil, and as of today, saline nasal rinse. I'm feeling tired and disinterested in the 587 chores that need doing. My attitude stinks - the work that I tried to complete took too long and was overly complicated - I got angry and had a bit of a tantrum. Not toward anyone, just a feeling of sheer frustration.

It's not allergies - the allergist said that allergy tests were all negative. That explains why the allergy meds aren't working. I'm probably just tired. Whatever.

Yes!

Only you, Wood and the woman who will call me knows that I have a phone INTERVIEW Monday afternoon. Eeee!

As of yesterday, my boss probably has an idea that almost everyone in the office thinks she's leading the ship to sink. And as exciting a time as this could be (strategic planning), as long as she's at the helm, I think it's never going to be the right place for me. I want more opportunity and less Crap.

Monday may not pan out but that doesn't matter right now. There's hope.

Old vs. Young

I am:

-an incredibly bright shade of white - glow in the dark white according to Auntie Slam

-not a slave to fashion - I like what is comfortable and my sense of style is, well, all my own thank you very much

-prematurely grey - I had my first grey hair at age 16 and nope, I don't color my long, very silver hair

- the owner of a big, round, plump ass, size D breasts (that I used to feed my kid for 3 years)

- over age 40 and GLAD to be - I'm finally somewhat mature

- accepting of myself just the way I am

But every now and again, something happens and I become

- mildly annoyed by the young blonde, buxom, bronze twenty-something who looked at me with disgust and pity while grocery shopping

Little girl, you can kiss my big, fat, lilly-white ass. You don't know shit. And I say so because when I was 20-something I didn't know shit, either.

Tuesday Tinkerings

The business of being grown up is cut-throat hard core, I say.

The business of parenting, even tougher.

I refuse to apologize for being the parent in this household. Particularly when I do not make mistakes, when I am simply setting boundaries and sticking them. "Bad Mom" and "You are so mean" now glide off of me like water on a birds feather.

With the help of an amazing child psychologist who has the testosterone to whip my child into submission with a mere inflection of his voice, I will be the Alpha Mom. I am the Alpha Mom and my child now knows it.

I am bossy and in charge - I know this is something I must own in every fiber of my being. All the time.

"I Hate Dr. S, I will never go back! You can't make me!" is music to my ears. I know its scary to hear that things aren't okay the way they are, that I am the parent, the one in charge, and that you will lose some privileges and power in this exchange. In the end though, you'll be much happier for it my sweet child.

This is my issue (and in part, Wood's, too) - my personal experience with other people being physically aggressive toward me, taking my power, controlling me. I know it and I have been fighting, albeit quite silently, against fighting at home. In the end, it has made us fight more.

Demon fighting, still, I am. Difference now is, I've never been less afraid of the battle.

The privilege of being a grown up and a parent is on the line.

Truth

I'm Tired

This week is turning out to be tougher than the last three combined. Work is off the hook busy with big projects and Twig is acting The Fool morning, noon and night.

Work is work is work. It feels manageable although there's too much. My newest staff person (acquired, not hired by me) may have finally gotten the point that she needs to buck up and play by my rules - for her own good - as I've been asked to take the reigns and direct the ship. More importantly, my boss is allowing me to be the Director lately and that is helpful. Autonomy is very appealing and when I have it, I produce amazing things.

Twig, on the other hand, is pushing Wood and me -mostly me- beyond our capacities. He's very often acting like an enraged and caged hippopotamus. He's overly angry when he doesn't get his way. Usually taking it out on me. Last night he charged me with his hula hoop because it was time to come in - and after being asked and ignoring me three times, lost his kung fu class. Tonight it was because he refused to eat his dinner and didn't get dessert as a result. For that I got punched in the chest.

BUT... he went to his room, came out and finished eating because he knows I mean business. He had his dessert. I didn't get an apology. But it's PENETRATING his brain! I have renewed faith. Last nights clarity that I did nothing wrong and would not feel guilty really helped!

Decisions, Decisions

People have to make a million decisions every day. To get out of bed, what to wear, what to eat, which route to travel to the office, what to eat. Underneath each of those decisions is a kajillion other decisions that we don't even acknowledge that we make.

This knowledge may make some people feel comfortable. Apparently, I'm not some people. Okay, even I know I'm not some people. But, still, decisions are becoming freakishly hard for me to make.

Particularly when it comes to business at "home", I'm not confident. To sign the Property Management Agreement(s) or not?  All that legal mumbo-jumbo is nerve wracking. Especially since we just got out of a very expensive legal mumbo-jumbo related to our home.

Wood says it's now a business transaction. No feelings.

Obviously, to sign the agreement. However, not without a LOT of angst.

Blue

Sad, full moon, mercury in retrograde hormonal fluctuations of the grandest proportions blues.

These last few days I have felt equally powerful and an utter failure to be all the things I swore I'd be when I was a kid: happy, not a mean parent, cool, hip, and awesome.

Yep. Only you know it. Oh, wait. I accidentally posted that on Facebook this morning. And outed my family in the process.

Going to bed now.

We're both feeling better this morning. Twig is still sleeping so his attitude is yet to be seen.

I get so many people expecting me to take on their feelings and fix situations at work, I'm beat when I get home and when my husband, his mother, and my child expect me to fix their problems, too, I kinda lose it. Truth is, I'm reaching my limit and it's showing.

Wood's probably past his. And it shows.

I'm boss, for sure, but I have to do a better job of taking responsibility for myself. And the people around me need to do the same. Wood knows it.