Placebo?

Today marks two weeks of being on the antidepressant Venlafaxine (Effexor). The lowest dose possible taken each morning with food. Here's what I've noticed:

About an hour after I take it I get a bit "heady". Spacy, tired, or something along those lines. Hard to describe. And a bit of dry mouth that lands on my throat and sinuses. Makes me feel a bit "gaggy".

It all wears off by mid morning and I'm able to focus on the activities of the day with more focus than usual. With the exception of the second or third day of the medicine in which I had an intense bout of anxiety that lasted nearly an hour, I'm calm, able to organize my thoughts and words, interested in leaving the house, and in relatively zero pain!

Well, I am a bit uncomfortable from being constipated but that's nothing new. My colon has long held on too tight.

So, I don't lack emotional fortitude. It's an honest-to-goodness physical-brain thing. Which is at the same time comforting and disconcerting.

My doctor has said I don't need to take the medicine forever. My mind is already planning on when to try to get off of it. My other mind says slow down and ride the wave for a minute. Let your body rest. Let your mind find some new coping tools. Let it sink into your bones. Slow down!

Placebo or not, it feels good.

So Far

So good.

I've had dry mouth induced nausea each day for a couple of days. It lasts a while but eventually calms down. Nite to self: Increasing water intake should help.

Yesterday I had a bit of a panic for no apparent reason so I took a break alone instead of pushing through. It took a long time to come down.

I'm as tired as usual but the pain may be less than it was earlier this week. Could it be working? Could it be working that fast? 

Mornings haven't been as painful and I've had thoughts of what I need/want to do in the morning. Follow through, not as much but maybe on the uptick?!

Today I'm writing while I test the couch position that is most common, super uncomfortable and always makes me hurt when I get up. So far, my knees aren't screaming at me.

Okay, I should get to my morning.

😊

The Plunge

The pain I've been experiencing for some time now has reached its tipping point. Third visit to the doctor in less than a year for continuing leg pain and now joint pain feels a bit hopeless. Hopeless isn't the right word but it's all that comes to mind.

It's an antidepressant and is very often used to treat myalgia, in this case, the diagnosis. And you, my dear readers, are well aware that depression could possibly be the culprit as well. I openly admitted to the doctor that depression is a real likely thing. If I'm honest, it's probably *the* thing - I'm farther down the rabbit hole of disinterest, doing less than the bare minimum at home and squandering any free time I do have with tv or listening to stories or isolating myself than I can remember ever being before. Seeing it here is kinda frightening and forces me away from discounting it by saying "I'm not hopeless, or suicidal or feeling horrible all the time". On the other hand I'm not enjoying much. I'm sitting back watching life busy doing it's thing. There are some great moments for sure but moreover I feel disconnected and a bit numb. Yeah, that's *the thing* called depression, isn't it?

First dose of Effexor today. I noticed dry mouth and a headache.

I agreed to take the lowest possible dose and see if it works. Just like the IUD, if I don't like it or it doesn't work for me, I'll stop. It's quite simple, really.

I'll keep you posted.

Format Change

Due to a ton of spam comments, I've made a change. Sorry for any inconvenience. I do love your feedback and hope the change won't keep you from sharing your thoughts.

Do Something for Yourself. Something You Love.

I've always been the one to capitulate to the needs of others, reinvent myself to suit their needs, to blend in, be silent to keep the peace. This is a problem for me because I don't consistently get my needs met.

The Nice Lady has recommended that when Twig gets incorrigible, mean or nasty, that I should leave and do something for myself. Something nice like buying flowers for myself (and not sale flowers).

It's been super hard to decide what to do, what I enjoy, what I like, and how to take care of myself. I have given up activities I enjoyed once upon a time, dropped ones I was trying to enjoy, and kept myself from exploring new ones. For financial reasons, mostly. But also because of space and time and family and work.

Excuses.

Since my temper tantrum last week where I sat in my fury and did nothing to make it easier for Wood or Twig to be near me - which I NEVER do (see first sentence above), I have felt closer to myself. 

Baseline self care...it's almost second nature for me these days to continue to eat at regular intervals, own my anger and not allow anyone to talk me out of my feelings, and ask for help from a friend. These are not things that have come easily to me - ever - they have been hard earned even after YEARS of soul-searching and gut wrenching work.

Wood told me Thursday evening that the Dr. knew immediately that I was angry with him and worried aloud that I wouldn't want to go back (I had left to pee and they talked ever so briefly).  In this session, I was forced to SEE MYSELF and despite "what matters" being the (not so great) delivery mechanism, it pushed me in a way I needed to be pushed.

I'm proud that I didn't give up my feelings. That I continued to feed and hydrate myself. That I voiced my feelings and didn't let other people off the hook. That I called a friend and over hot cocoa, had my feelings validated. Moved past being angry. And began listing activities and interests that I enjoy or want to enjoy - ways to take care of myself and nourish my soul.

Walking
Listening to stories - Podcasts - Snap Judgement, Strangers, 99% Invisible
(!) Photography - graffiti (!)
Crafting - taking art classes
Writing

And maybe most important, having hot cocoa with friends.

A N G R Y

The child psychologist said today that I need to:

-Let it go
-Decide what's important
-Accept that "this" is what kids do
-Have no emotions about it, whatever the fuck "it" is that's making me upset
-To not be angry

Guess what?

I am I N F U R I A T E D!

As in I want to demolish things, throw Shit, drive the car into people or a building. I want other people and things to feel my fury. F U R Y!

The fact that he suggested that what I want isn't important is the piece that has got me.

Is it not important that my kid (at age 10):

-flush the toilet after taking a dump?
-do homework?
-help around the house by putting HIS shoes, backpack, lunch, and other sundry items WHERE THEY BELONG?

What about:

-turning off the lights?
-closing the door when he is the last person in the house?
-brushing his teeth?
-wearing clean clothes?
-washing his hands after using the bathroom?

"Is it important?"

Fuck you.

It makes a difference to ME when he refuses to help with his stuff. I'm not a fucking servant. I DO NOT live to take care of his stuff because, well, he *doesn't feel like it* right now. So why expect him to follow through? Is it important? Not to him. So, you don't have to do anything if it's not important to you. Mom is the giving tree. The Boy just takes and takes. Great lesson.

This makes me want to move out and live alone.

Ramble, ramble. Sorry. Not sorry. My space.

Yes means Yes

I've kept a secret for 20 years. As in, haven't told anyone. Ever. Until today.

A little bit of shame was released in telling my best friend, Wood, that when I was a young undergrad, doing political work, I traveled across the state as a representative for my school, and what happened to me one weekend away.

The people I "worked" with had connections to other people that had come before us. Whenever there were opportunities to do so, the generations were connected.

I was "connected " to a guy who had a "big man on campus" type of reputation. One of those people that others either really liked or really didn't like. I didn't have any information at the time, except that my people really liked him.

For this particular weekend trip, my people asked if he could share my hotel room. I agreed. I'm supportive like that.

When he was in my hotel room, in my bed, and it was time to sleep, he didn't want to sleep. I didn't say "Yes", I didn't say "No".

He raped me.

I took the morning after pill as soon as I could once I got back to campus.  And told no one. It wasn't violent, it was a violation. One that I should have had the voice to say no to. I was ashamed to have agreed to let him stay in my room. It could have been prevented. By me.

So. There it is.

Excellent, Amazing

These words are used to describe my performance at the new gig. I like the job. The work isn't very tough. I have headspace at the end of most days. It's nice to hear I'm doing well. Unfortunately, by the time I make it back to my desk, I'm questioning whether it's true.

Its time to channel Stewart Smalley - "You're good enough, you're smart enough and gosh darn it, people like you." I'll add in something about how I'm already perfect and mistakes are inevitable.

Believing it and living it: this is the lesson.

Stretching

Many, many years ago I took a yoga class. During the class I felt rage - I wanted to scream, yell, throw things, and light the studio on fire - an intense rage! Today's lunchtime yoga class was the opposite of the rage filed class. Today's class was actually quite enjoyable, even calming. I plan on going back!

Judgment Card

Good morning and happy Monday! The new job begins today with startup paperwork and some scheduling... The judgment card came up for me this morning. Current phase is ending, be honest about past mistakes, and successes, dream big. I'm ready for new and I will make it GOOD!

Three Days

This is the third night in a row I've had insomnia. It had been at bay for a while. I'm not sure what shifted except maybe Wood being out of town or the ever elusive start date of my new job. Wood comes home tomorrow and the job, despite my new boss being fired today, starts Monday.

All in all, I've been well. There are moments of real clarity about my life, what's important, and what I want. I feel strong enough, most days, to manage my feelings and coach Twig through his. There are tough moments but they feel manageable. They don't have as much drain power that they did for a while.

Talked to another mom today who's has a very similar yet shorter duration Family-member-with-Alzheimer's move-in then out experience. And she described the crippling depression and anxiety that pummeled her once her mom moved out. It was so nice to hear someone talk about the exact feelings and responses I've had. Except she reluctantly decided to go the meds route.

There's so much more but I don't have the mental fortitude to continue to form semi-coherent sentences any more. It's 3:40am and I should try to get some sleep. G'nite.

Shift?

Monday is the day I meet with my nice lady, Rebecca. She's great, save her insistence on my attending Alanon meetings. Whatever.

I read my last post to her. Out loud. It was weird because it was scary in a way that writing and knowing someone will read it isn't. We talked a lot about fear and trauma. It felt good.

Maybe because it was my birthday Monday was swell. And so was Tuesday and today (even though someone decided to use our garbage area as a toilet. Eww, just gross.). Something feels easier. I suspect tomorrow, at my old job's luncheon, will be good. Friday too.

I feel like I can have a thought, make a plan and have it stick. We shall see.

On Celebrating Mothers Day

This year, I'm not all that interested in celebrating Mothers Day. It makes me sad. It's not just this year. Honestly, Hallmark holidays don't do it for me. Valentine's Day - Blech. Christmas - ugh. Okay, I generally don't like any holiday that everyone is supposed to celebrate the same thing in the same way.

See, there are people out there that don't have a mom. Women who lost their children to stillbirth, disease, abortion, car accidents, abduction. Moms that don't do too hot-a-job at caring for their kids or others. Women who want desperately to be a mom but can't. Moms who are here but are no longer mothering.

My friend J's mom died a couple of weeks ago. I loved that woman even though in the nearly 20 years J and I have been friends, I never met her. And C, someone I'm not at all close to, only acquaintances with, really, lost her dog suddenly last week. That dog was a sweetheart that I had the pleasure of being around a couple of times. Maybe they're celebrating, I don't know. I don't think so. I feel their pain on mothers day. 

Wood always asks what I want for Mothers Day and my birthday. I don't want for much. Rarely can he shop for me knowing he's hit a home run. This year, I sent him a list. I must have, around the same time, complained that our sheets were in disrepair. So, I didn't get what was on my list. I got bed sheets. They are lovely and I am grateful. It's just that I rarely have a want much less say what I want so not getting it is disappointing.

It's a lot like taking grandma out to eat for Mothers Day only to have her be unhappy the entire time. There's so much we can't have, will never have again. It's hard to celebrate three bathroom trips, two walks and countless stares or misunderstanding and pity during brunch. Wood's hangover from it, despite the fact that I cared for her during this challenging meal, was exceedingly heavy afterward.

I feel Wood's pain. Twig's, Grandma's, mine, yours, everyone's.

The holiday feels contrived. Dishonest. Exclusionary.

We made a valiant effort but it's hard to celebrate loss when you're in the thick of it.

Feelings oh-oh-oh Feelings

It seems like the primary feeling living inside me is sadness. I feel it so often for almost any reason - a television show, a kind gesture, a fleeting thought, idea or memory so faint I can't even conjure the image. It finds its way to the surface and before anyone knows what's happened the tears are flowing full force. They can be hard to stop.

Then there are the times I'm primarily overwhelmed. Suddenly, without notice, there is too much input, too much noise, I'm shaking and need everything to stop. I feel attacked, primarily at home, during simple conversation about things like what's for dinner. These interactions leave me feeling battered. It's like being afraid. Not the kind that is motivating. The kind that is exhausting and debilitating.

These feelings come and go. Some days I can power through the tasks on my list. Much of the time I feel weak. I definitely feel out of control. Not a reckless yell at people lack of control, more of an 'I'm not really sure that I can spend energy on anything except what's absolutely necessary and there's very little that's really important'. In this state its an 'I'm not in charge, I'm lacking a clear agenda, I'm close to unrecognizable, not sure of who I am and who I want to be' lack of control.

It's almost like a paradigm shift - a reevaluation of the value of every decision to do something, of every moment in time leading up to now and whether being productive, performing, or perfect is at all relevant. Because I feel irrelevant. And that's simultaneously the most freeing and discouraging feeling I've ever had.

My family notices these energy rifts and has taken to asking what's wrong. I'm not interacting with too many other people so it's not much of an issue. Time and space are what I need now. There's a lot of processing, reimagining, and stuff happening. I'm eating and sleeping a lot to keep up the energy needed to find and use my bravery.

Wahoo!

I got the job!

Whew.

Tuesday Highlights

Twig is in the median percentile for both height and weight. This may be the only place he takes the middle of the road.

*He chose* to have his wart frozen off instead of the lengthier option of lotion. He was brave and I was very proud of him.

He has eczema, brought on by lavender oil. Poor kid.

We went out to lunch today to celebrate his bravery. It was a nice time!

Peaceful Waiting

It's 3:30 am, that could be why I'm feeling peaceful. Wood's loud breathing woke me and the side effect was the theme of an intense dream, that I can't recall but only feel slightly, turned my brain on.

Leading up to this moment I've been weepy again. Feeling the tears bubbling at the surface, later becoming a waterfall, with little notice. My emotions are bigger than they have been in a while. I'm not "doing" much, remembering, thinking, acting very well. My intense hyperdrive energy has dwindled to a mere nothing. My heart and soul are trying to catch up with my body and mind - I'm not that person - I will not be that person - I'm beyond burned out - and it's okay!

Reinventing myself is proving a great challenge. It's weird to have few, if any, aspirations.

Still no word on the job. I will be okay either way, that much I know. Something will come along. I will be seen for the goodness in me. I will see it. I'm searching.

Waiting

The birds are chirping, quite loudly. We are dog sitting for our neighbor. Baseball photos and a birthday party today.

I'm patiently waiting to get a job offer or let down for a great job opportunity I interviewed for last week. Trying to be patient, that is. Not knowing is rough. I'm trying to have faith that it will work out as it should.

Next week is my birthday and mothers day. For that I wait for a gift of a fitness tracker, a digital camera or a necklace. My goal is to find some inspiration to live rather than waiting to live. To risk and be brave instead of being bored and boring.

My energy is still rather low so waiting in stillness has a strong appeal. It will shift, as all things do.

Body Fail - Plugging Along

Vacation! Here we are in New Orleans with friends. It's so lovely except my body is freaking out.

Of course my time of the month started and while my skin is much better than it was, it's still a bit upset with itchy dry patches that don't respond to my home made oil-salve. My gall bladder had a tantrum about all of the fried food we've been enjoying (its still got me on notice), I've got a pretty rash along my bra-line as well as where my thighs rub together and I've got a hemorrhoid.

But wait, there's more!

I fully expected the plantar fasciitis to be in full gear and it is. What I didn't expect was that I'd sprain my ankle on the same foot a week and a half before our walking trip. In addition to that pain, my legs/feet are swelling like balloons from the heat and all the walking we've been doing. I got some compression socks to help but it doesn't much. My left knee, the one with torn cartilage, started clicking with every step earlier and I just woke to hunger pains and what I think may be a bug bite on my Achilles. Itchy & Ouchie.

Our friends are the best. I fel like I'm complaining and that I've slowed the group down. The feel badly that I'm in such discomfort - and they only know about my foot/ankle. Despite all of it, it's lovely to be on vacation. I'll post a bit of our activities another time. My 4am hunger pangs have been addressed and I think, now that it's almost 5am, it's time to go back to sleep.

Another Interview

I wasn't offered the last job I interviewed for. Came close but clearly not the best candidate.

It's okay. As the saying goes, "one door closes, another opens". I was invited to interview for a job that pays better, is more interesting and has similar aspects as the other, and is PART-TIME!

For a minute when I got the invite, I worried that I'd have to ask for another date/time. We come home from our trip to New Orleans the day of the interview. I'll be super relaxed, that's for sure!

So, it's also good, I have some time to prepare myself. Set my questions, line up my answers, decide how to present myself. Over good music and food, with friends, in the heat and Sun! 

Deserving

This weekend was tough. We allowed Twig a completely "down" day on Saturday in which he was able to choose to do what he wanted to do.

After opening day for baseball that included a very crowded opening ceremony and parade (I didn't attend) and lots of rain that got the first game of they year cancelled, he chose to put on his pajamas and watch tv.

All day.

Wood and I ran errands. We went to the Beauty supply, the hardware store, to get groceries and the running store to get me some new shoes. We came home in between stores to check in on and make sure he was okay, and to encourage him to get dressed and come out of the house with us. No dice.

Once the TV was off he was a raging jerk, being snarky, snotty, and downright disrespectful. And, despite our due diligence, it hasn't subsided since.

We screwed up.

We suffered for our enjoyment of the day because it was easier thank having the argument. Besides, he rarely has quiet days.

The concept of "deserve" comes up in discussions with my nice lady. As in the child must deserve, or at least work for, the privileges he gets. This is difficult for me - to balance punitive  and expectation. Especially when he's being rude and nasty for days in a row.

Because I allowed him to have his brain leached by crappy TV7 sit coms all day.

We're gonna get this right!

The Theme

Self care is the theme.

Not exciting but necessary. I got new shoes and inserts yesterday.

Have been taking my breathing and skin meds - it's rather nice to be able to breathe and interesting to note that I'm able to tolerate a rather high threshold of poor respiratory (or skin or other) health. My foot hurts SO much though. I'm doing my best to work through the pain, do the exercises and stretching. I will also look for an ART (Active Release Method) therapist for massage. Apparently it is an effective treatment for the plantar fasciitis. Fingers crossed.

Tweak

I cried a fair amount today. Chaperoned a field trip, applied for a couple of jobs, met up with a former colleague turned friend, and took my asthma maintenance medication (for the first time in about a month).

I felt noticeably good at the end of the day because of the last two activities. Being with a grown up, talking about a variety of things, and being able to breathe made a  significant difference in my attitude.

Note to self: It's the little things that make life grand.

So Special

In the past two weeks I've seen a gynecologist, dermatologist, podiatrist, and a pulmonologist. I have special needs.

Severe eczema of the lady bits, fast growing nothing to worry about skin growths on my face, plantar fasciitis of the left foot, and  lifelong crappy lungs. I've got a lung medication regimen for which I'm often non-compliant. I start and stop and start and stop. For reasons I'm not entirely aware of. I've been pondering this - why is self care so difficult? Because I don't love myself, I shouldn't need medication, I'm lazy and forgetful?

My soul hurts.

Many days, getting out of bed is difficult. People are exhausting. Cleaning the house isn't important; grocery shopping, cooking and laundry get done only when it's absolutely necessary and even then begrudgingly. I forget what I was doing, get lost going to regular places I always go to. My mind wanders off unpredictably, words don't make their way to my mouth. The couch has a stronger hold on me than just about anything. I have many, many good intentions. Very little follow through.

I see what I'm saying and experiencing, yet, I don't want to try anti-depressants. The dance of getting it right sounds downright exhausting. I have more shame about the possibility of needing medication for my mood than for the eczema of my lady parts. And I have a lot of shame about my lady parts. I struggle with not being strong, knowing full well that white-knuckling it isn't working. Not working, not getting much in the way of attention for the job applications I send out is a blow to my ego, too. I wonder if taking something will help me feel like myself again, help me to manage life on a day to day basis or cause more problems and have negative side effects.

My soul has been here before.

Cue Grey's Anatomy and the insight I think I need. It doesn't help me decide to go get meds. But it does remind me to have a bit of hope for the future.

"There's a stage you go through during childbirth; it's the toughest part, its called the transition stage. You've been pushing so hard and so long you're exhausted. Spent. And there's nothing to show for all of your effort. During this transition stage it feels like you just can't go on. But it's only because you're very nearly there.

Transition is movement. From one part of life to a whole new one. And it can seem like one long dark scary tunnel. But you have to come out the other side. Because what's been waiting there, might just be glorious."

I'm definitely in a life transition. What's on the other side is unknown, scary as hell. I don't remember childbirth transition as Meredith Grey is talking about it here but I know I experienced it when I gave birth to Twig. Being stuck in fear. Just like now. I made it then. I'll make it now.

Das Boot

Plantar Fasciitis...Poop!

I'm wound up oh, so tight that the doc had to work to get my left foot to flex at a 90° angle. It's not surprising. My hamstrings, quads, hip flexors, and low back are chronically tight.

He suggested that it could take 3 months to get back to pain free. Lordy. The body is telling me to love it. Forcing me, actually.

I will commit to 3 months of stretching 4 times a day in addition to my eczema and asthma meds twice a day. Sleeping in the boot that keeps it stretched at night. I will see the naturopath to see about the eczema issues to see about dietary changes I can make. I already started drinking more water, have been applying a homemade oil of vitamin e, jojoba, and coconut and it is helping. Today I also started a turmeric and probiotic supplement for inflammation. It may be harder to forego the dairy. Yesterday I had ice cream and today, fresh mozzarella cheese. Mmmm, cheese. But only.once, not several times. Baby steps.

I have focused my job search to public sector work, preferably part time and have settled on a pay range. The application process is harder than for Craigslist jobs, and perhaps more competitive, but the compensation is worth the effort. I finished an application for a part-time position today and feel hopeful about my chances. And, the last public sector job I applied for I was a serious contender. I will find the right fit with reasonable people, preferably part-time and good pay. That is what I want. I have wanted it for a long time. It is my time.

My time to get what I want so that I can take good care of me, too.

Flared Up

Yikes, my skin is a hot mess! I've got bumps and scabs everywhere. Fucking eczema.

It's not just that though. I hurt. My joints, my hips, my fingers, feet. Cramps from hell. Achy muscles. I think it's because I've been eating dairy. A lot of dairy - ice cream, cheese, whipped cream. All things that taste good. I've always been allergic and didn't eat it except periodically on pizza. Now I eat it all the time. Ding, ding, ding.

Twig is over tired and asking for my help. He needs food before he takes a shower. He doesn't know what he wants when it comes to food and it is so frustrating. I just want sleep. He's mad at me for my little outburst, having his own. Wood is in charge now. I'm going to bed.

Letting Off Steam

My husband went out with friends from work tonight - they saw a show. Some old-school rock band.

I heard him come in. I was exhausted tonight because my hormones are a-raging and fell asleep at about 8:30. When I heard him, it felt early. He was obnoxiously and differently loud. It was 10:30.

He's been in the bathroom for nearly 2 hours. Vomiting his guts out. Apologizing (almost as profusely as he's vomiting). He had 4 beers and a shot of something. Plus the contact high of the concert. Nothing for dinner, he said, and spicy food at lunch.

We're going camping tomorrow. My bathroom and bedroom smell. My husband is a lump of a mess on the bathroom floor. I'm not amused. Not angry but not exactly sympathetic either. Now I can't sleep. That's what pisses me off the most. My sleep is fucked up as it is. I was tired, now I'm wired. I'll pay the most for his lack of booze pace. He's going to suffer enough without me rubbing it in. This, I know. But damn it should be an interesting weekend. Good thing I'm a doer.

I saw two doctors today. Eczema of the girl parts and possibly yeast. Chronic, of course. The doctor was so awesome about it that I didn't feel a bunch of shame about it. Maybe mild shame. Shame for sure but I worked through it. Its unnecessary. The nurse said they see 3 people each day with yeast and related infections. That helped a lot.

Apparently, it looked like yeast but wasn't clearly yeast on the slides. So a culture was taken for a more sensitive test. If it is as I suspect, yeast, he will prescribe a 3-6 month course of weekly oral yeast meds.  The eczema gets the strongest cortisone ointment available three times a day for at least two months. Only the top of the line for me. A follow up at the end of the two months of aggressive treatment and the knowledge that this may be a recurring issue that will require periodic aggressive treatment... Okay, I'm here, I'm ready... I don't want to have what feels like a constant episiotimy any more. Fuck that. I deserve to NOT be in constant pain. I owe this to myself.

The dermatologist wasn't concerned about the rest of my skin. She suggested using the steroid cream when I have flare-ups. They're everywhere right now - on my neck, back, arms, chest, legs... They start out like yeast bumps and get itchy and since I come from a long line of pickers, I itch and scratch until they are a scabby mess. I need a better skincare regimen. Starting tomorrow (or is it today, Wood?) daily moisturizing of my entire body. Again, I need to care for myself. I deserve to be healthy and pain free.

The spot on my eyebrow that showed up and grew quickly over the past few weeks is just a little scaly growth. Nothing to worry about but she froze it off anyway. She gets the picking part of me. This is one area I don't feel weird about caring for. I have a bit of vanity tucked way down deep. Plus skin cancer is a real problem for a pasty white girl such as me.

Monday is the podiatrist - for these aching feet that makes it nearly impossible to walk. I don't want it to be plantar fasciitis. Another regimen sounds taxing. Then it's off to the pulmonologist to keep my lungs working. More medication, self-care routines that I hate. But a conversation about medication and it's possible effect/contribution to yeast and eczema will ensue.

Self-care, self-care, self-care. We all need more of it.

The end.

Serious

Whew, what a whirlwind of a week!

Twig is in Guys & Dolls and the show opens tonight! Whew, I'm so glad it's almost over. But even more glad that I've had this time to be with my boy, to do carpool duty, be backstage support, and build costumes for the intermission bit the kids will do. Mostly I've enjoyed being with my boy. Even when he's being a lippy little snit.

Today is Second-Interview-Friday. I'm a top tier candidate invited back for a second look. This will be my second opportunity to assess the supervisor and team culture, and subsequently my fit for the job.

It seems like a good fit. The job isn't difficult - I'm pretty sure it would be easy, almost boring; it's writing and process stuff. My big concerns are about personality and culture related to expectations. The interpersonal stuff. I want to fit well, do good work, and be left alone, unless I don't want to be, you know?

It's a good paying job. Great benefits. Fantastic commute. Nice offices. Supervisor and other people seem like genuine, good, honest people. The interview was good. It felt easy, right. My gut told me it was the job for me when I applied. I have hesitation. Because my last gig was so horrible? It was different, I knew that one (supervisor) was wrong and did it anyway. She tried and failed, too.

This is different. I DO have a choice. If chosen, I'll do it.

And do it well.

In Through The Nose

Out through the mouth.

I have a job interview this morning. For a job I want.

The universe knows if it is the right job for me. I will know soon, too.

My former boss left her Executive Director position. Former colleagues have kept me in the loop. I'm still sure that leaving for the other job, despite the fact that it didn't work out, was the best decision for me. I was so unhappy there.

Now, I am open to what I want: a support role, quality work, supportive colleagues, good working environment, meaningful work. Pay. Retirement benefits.

Okay, off to make this a reality!

Gone

Wood and I talked briefly about my feelings...no hot sex...in a strange feat of bravery I was honest with myself and him.

Every time he travels for work I feel this way. Afraid, lonely, jealous, and slightly relieved. Although the relief comes once he's gone and I settle into it for a minute.

This trip and the 24 year old Female Colleage feelings resurfacing highlighted something that I haven't given much air-time before now, and that is: I'm afraid that when he leaves he's going to realize, because he's someplace else, enjoying the company of new people, new places, new things, that he's unhappy with the boring life he has with me. That I'm NOT good enough or the person he really wanted.

After however many years it's been that we've known each other - almost 15 - I've become used to our life together. I've settled in and that's usually when it gets taken away - when I really care. When I really care, I'm helpless, I'll be really seen for the fraud I am, I'll screw it up because I'm so damaged and nobody wants me for the True Me.

My Facebook-Friend list is significantly large but it's deceptively so. Most of the people there are, at best, acquaintances. Don't take this wrong, I feel something for each one of them but it's more of a psychic, spiritual connectedness-to-the-universe feeling. Not, 'I'm there for you every day and understand you' kind of connectedness - my circle is Wood and Twig. I want more than just them but the idea of just them or them plus others is constrictive and frightening. It's being in relationship with others that's difficult for me.

People have become tiring. Actually, when I think about it, I've always needed a lot of down time, being left alone to my thoughts, to recharge through absence of input. I never fully learned how to maintain my Self in the midst of other people. I get pulled in too close and then tear myself away because it's all I can think to do to not become completely engulfed.

I know that I can take care of myself. Even when Wood's gone. More importantly, when he's here. He will come back to me. I will let him - I will greet him with an open heart. Someday, when he doesn't, I'll long for the love he has shown me through the years.

Que sera sera.

One Year Later

One year ago I went to Las Vegas with Wood - he was attending a work conference and I tagged along. We went a few days early for a mini-vacation.

On the first night of the conference, a female colleague of Wood's rolled up on him like they were more than colleagues. When we were introduced, she was uncomfortable and said so. I went for her jugular. But every time I turned around, the bitch was there.

As we left the conference, the rage built up. By the time we got on to the plane, I'd accused Wood of having an affair, and made quite a stink. He wasn't angry at my accusation. He was hurt, sad even. We talked through it - I asked pointed questions and felt reasonably assured that I was being insecure.

Wood leaves tomorrow for another conference. Skanky Bitch, we, I mean colleague, is going to be there. She was too familiar with him. I'm fuming again.

Part of me doesn't believe that they are/were just friends. I don't recognize myself here. So what, I tell myself, there's nothing I can do. What happened happened, whatever will be will be. And I will be fine.

Right?

Do I talk to him about my feelings before he leaves? When he gets home? Ask for details when he gets home? Require a daily phone call to Twig? Meditate on my insecurity? Have super hot sex with him tomorrow before he boards the plane? All of the above?

I'm not 44 years old. I'm 13.

Zen Tough Love

During our appointment with the child Psychologist, I cried. And cried, and cried. Overwhelmed with emotion. During the trip to the office Wood and Twig had both been so demonstrative. Wood because I had changed my mind over the course of several days whether Twig should attend the appointment and Twig because, once he knew he was going to the appointment, he was infuriated. He wailed "No, I don't want to go!" in a really, super pathetic groaning voice I've not really heard from him before. It was interspersed with angry tones and kicking the armrests and seats that Wood and I sat in. It was very, very difficult to keep it together while driving 55mph along Highway 5 in morning rush hour traffic.

When we arrived, the Nice Man chatted with Twig alone in another room for a few minutes before meeting with Wood and I. He quickly asked Twig to go to the lobby. He complied, happily, cheerfully. Our conversation started with small talk. An update about what's been happening in our lives and moved on to what's happening with Twig. How things have started to slowly increase in intensity and that the boy has begun to get somewhat physical with me again. It's not to the extent it was last year when Grandma had moved in with us (and everyone was angry) and I literally feared for my life at times. But it did require me to lock myself in my room for fear that either he'd hurt me or I'd lose my cool and really hurt him. The thought "I really want to beat the living crap out of him - if I did that he'd really get the picture" scared me so I took my computer and some yarn into my room, texted Wood to get his ass home, and stayed there until he did. 

The conversation between the Nice Man, Wood and I centered on our responses to Twig's behaviors. How these responses play into the downward spiral is not new information. We must not give any emotion. We must say things once and provide natural consequences. Duh, duh, and duh. We also implemented all of the techniques that we learned in a class we took last year - to no avail. So, he's upped the ante. 

The plan at this point is that Twig will choose to be cooperative, helpful and respectful. If he does not, he will get nothing from us. Here are a few examples: Yell at me because you're not pleased with the food I made, refuse to help set the table, empty the dishwasher, etc? Figure out your meals yourself. Toss a fit because you don't want to put your dirty clothes in the hamper, not willing to put your clean clothes away? Good luck with that, you're on your own. Push something to the extent that you get sassy and/or physical? Mom gets to leave the house and go do something fun - without you. So what if you're not supposed to leave a kid under 12 home alone. We're not talking about the usual kid upset from frustration, sadness, confusion, etc. We're talking about his demonstrative behavior for which I feel like I'm constantly at war, on the defensive, angry. The Nice Man handed down his verdict and explained that if this didn't go in Twig's favor - meaning if he can't get it together (because he knows what he's doing) - Military School, haircut the way Mom & Dad wan't it (his hair is long), clothes we choose, removal from the school he currently attends, and stopping all extra curricular activities, may be the only logical next option. He may have been scared straight.

Day 1 (even though it was the same day as the appointment, I think it counts) I dropped him off at school with zero fanfare. Except the required hug and kiss upon departure. The usual stuff here. It was after school, when I picked him up from martial arts, and thereafter, that was different. He greeted me with an actual smile (it's usually a detestable roar of "why are you here to get me?"). He put his things away where they're supposed to go with no reminders - shoes, backpack, coat, lunchbox and all of it's contents! I didn't get into anything with him. Let him stay up as long as he wanted. 

Day 2 

The morning routine was mine because Wood had an early meeting. Twig woke up and came into my room for a bit of a cuddle. Nice. A few minutes later I stated "I need to get up and get my day started. If you want a ride, you need to get ready within 20 minutes." My bad, I shouldn't have stated a timeframe because I know the timeframe isn't really reasonable - for him. And we don't have a clock in the house. I'll be getting one today. He got himself breakfast, dressed. I made his lunch. Offered a couple of reminders in the form of a question - are you going to brush your teeth today? And, only because I don't have anywhere to be, told him to let me know when he was ready to leave. I stood there fully dressed, keys in hand, waiting for him. 

The evening was the same. At pick up, I talked to his Martial Arts teacher. He let me have the time without any questions and no interruptions. He had a great attitude. Helped when asked. OFFERED TO HELP MAKE DINNER. Washed his hands without a fuss. Participated. Talked about his friends, his school day. A 180 degree departure from usual.

Day 3 - This morning was about the same. He generally participated, did what he needed to do, had a good attitude and even told us what was left on his getting ready list of things to do. Without prompting. 

Well, this has been an absolute dream couple of days. This, this is the family I've always wanted. I'll keep you posted because I'm sure, no positive, that it's not going to be this easy for ever. 

An Order and Permission

It's been more than a month since I've thought to post. Well, I've thought about it. But clearly, this is the first I've stopped and used my thumbs to write words and string together sentences (that aren't cover letter and resume related).

Off in a cloud, my world had been both upside down and dream-like. Clothes sit in a poorly organized and hardly folded pile atop my dresser. Too small to wear, ignoring their existence seems all the energy that can be mustered for them. My days are mostly my own. Wood has taken on the morning routine, getting Twig off to school. Baseline is possible most days but I've also been very, very tired. I give in to my body and mind. Napping is glorious!

Grappling with what I was as opposed to what I am or what I want to be is the order of the day and it's painful, heart wrenching stuff. I am not the person I wanted to be. Not the person I thought I'd be.

My Nice Lady (and a child psychologist that I'll call 'Nice Man'), upon hearing the struggles to get my child to be a civil, participating member of the household have suggested, quite directly, that I need to let go. Of caring, expectation, demonstrating displeasure for failed responses, of getting stuff done, of offering or being of service. And when things get out of hand, I have been given permission to leave. To Go Have Fun. With my husband if the circumstances warrant.

"Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us."

That is my mantra. I'm scared but in the throes of it. It's time to learn the lesson, not just master the assignment.

Finally, after a lifetime of distancing myself I no longer want to be distanced. Especially from the people I care about most. And yet, here I am. Forced into learning self-preservation, yet again.