Improvement

I checked my blood sugar level this morning and it was 80. I think that's good.
And today, while missing my mother terribly, it was more of an ache, dull, than an all-consuming spasm of pain wracking my body, especially my chest.
That's an improvement, right?

New Worries

So I am thinking that I am getting diabetes. This is not some idle worry or threat. My mother had diabetes, my father has it, both of my grandmothers had it. My grandfathers died before they could get it. They had bad tickers.

The seroquel is said to raise your blood glucose level. Read: sugar. So I've decided to again try to go off of sugar.

Seriously, this is a pain in my ass. And I'm addicted to it like a drug. Last night. Eeek! I don't even want to write it for fear of making it worse and more real.
Deep breath. Last night, after dinner, I checked my level. It was 241. That seems awfully damn high to me. Dad said not to worry, we'd check it this morning before breakfast. It was 115. I thought that was pretty damn high also. He said not to worry -- over 120 is bad.

So once I got to the office, I googled it. Fasting glucose (sugar) levels should be below 100. Over 100 but below 125 is probably pre-diabetes. And here's the thing (well one of the things, anyway), I've been having to pee a lot lately. So much so that I was thinking maybe I was broken down there or maybe I had a urinary tract infection. Nope, that's just a sign of diabetes. That and the thirst I have all of the time lately.
And slow healing. This one doesn't really count because I've always healed very slow (when comparing to others).

Anyway. I'm not usually one of those persons who trolls webMD and then thinks they have whatever they've read. But I do think this is real. And I seriously need to get my shittake in order. I mean really.

One of my professors said once, "You can warn someone the train is coming, but sometimes people don't believe you until they get run down." Is that me? Am I going to get mowed down and then - ? Who will I have to blame? Myself? I already do that all the time anyway.

Gotta start working out too. Let's see if we can slow this train down a bit. Or get the hell off the track. Seriously.

Too much

So, I guess that internet dating site sees when you are at the site, for whatever reason. And the more you are on the site, the higher it puts you as a search result.
?
Is this true?
Because all of a sudden my inbox is blowing up! Too many! Too many!
All with the ever-present Eww! and Yuck!

Maybe I should just remove my profile because, let's be honest, I'm in no shape to start a relationship.
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On a different topic, and I know it is too soon, I am feeling much better. Yes, yes. I *know* that it is too soon for the new medicine to work. And I am just having an "ok" day which I have anyway, from time to time.
But I am worried that I am having high blood sugar and that I am developing diabetes. I have been getting dizzy - for no reason, and then getting nauseated - for no reason. Oooh, and let's not forget - oops, already forgot. (OOPS! ALREADY FORGOT!!!)

Well. I have no idea what I was going to write there. Moving on.

Anyway, I'm going to start checking my sugar and see where I stand. Really, not looking forward to that. I did look online and a couple of different sites read that if you exercise, eat right and shed a couple of extra pounds, you can effectively stave off diabetes.
So here's hoping!

Doctor. And Sad.

I went to the doctor today to get a refill and tell him I'm taking more of the med than he prescribed.
And he added on Cymbalta. And this stuff, yeah, it's supposed to be like a miracle drug. So let's see if it produces some miracles.
And I was really sad thinking about things. And the sun was not out --which always makes me sad. And then trying to explain to the doctor that I don't want to get as bad as last time. That I'd rather be dead than get that depressed and get that lost again. But I don't want to say that - because I don't want him to get all worried that I'm going to do myself harm. Because I don't want to do myself harm. And as I don't really believe in an afterlife - unless there is reincarnation - I don't want to be nothing under the ground. So, yeah, I don't want to be dead. At least not yet.
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But!
I did text every one. And I did say - Hey, let's have a dress up party. And I put constraints on it. To Not Spend Money. Because, let's face it, we're all poor.
So my idea was this: Go pull something, some concoction out of your closet. Something we, hopefully, haven't seen before. A weird combination of clothing and turn that into a costume. So you could be slutty or dirty or fancy or a hipster doofus. I guess you could wear pajamas or that fancy, fancy dress that you bought but don't have an occasion to wear. That was my idea.
Plus, make it a pot luck. And everyone bring one bottle and we'll mix them all together and make a witch's brew.
We voted and Saturday night seems to be the night.

Something to look forward to. I hope it goes well.

I'm hoping that I am not too fat to wear this pretty, fancy, stupid dress that I bought - for no purpose other than it was on clearance and was sooo pretty, I couldn't not buy it. Let's see shall we?

Wish me luck.

Confession

Mc made me sign up for an internet dating site. It's free, so that's something.

But the more I think about it, the more oogie it seems. It's like we've found an entirely new way to meet people who are unsuitable for ourselves. And I like to take things slowly and these guys are: BAM! Here's my phone number! Bam! Text me! Bam! Let's have coffee.

Yeah, no.

Mc is of the opinion that I need to let go of fear. I think I just need to let go and just forget dating. It seems so yucky and so - plastic. Like: here is my face at a certain angle in 2D and here are the selected things I'm going to tell you about myself to put myself in a particular package and wrap it up nicely with a bow.

It's so fake and uncomfortable. I'll report back from the trenches.

Did I just post a reminder?

Because I just had some orangecicles. They were good. I can Stop All Sugar now.
I can. But I am going to the ballet with Tm and I'm sure I'm gonna have some drinks. Let's get this party started!
Hee. That's how I roll.

Reminder

I am striving yet again to treat myself better. To treat myself with Love/love.

No more sugar.
Exercise, with care.
Take care of outside, take care of in.
Treat self as precious.

This what I wrote - not even a month ago.

I think I needed a reminder. How about you?

Oh! and a pretty picture to help us remember that we deserve handsomeness in our lives.

Thanks imdb - oh, and Ray Stevenson. Pretty.
:)

Torturous Dreams

So I've been having dreams about my mother lately. Vivid dreams. But I can't quite remember them when I wake.

Last night it seemed if I was having a psychotic break in my dreams because I was talking to her and doing things with her and then I remarked or knew somehow that she was a ghost. And still she laughed. And I don't really remember but I just miss her terribly.
Then I was invoking Trustworthy T. And later he called, all in the dream of course. And I was amazed that he called and he was calling a wrong number- or pretending to- and at once, I recognized his voice. I wondered at how he had my number and then realized that Mom had kept my line for business. I don't know why: she just did. And he spoke about his life, that he had a plumbing company-very small-that he was hoping would make it. And how his life was so good now. And it was because he had no pain. He had finally exorcised his demons and was free from pain. Something like, I should try it and it was the easiest thing in the world: to be pain free.
And in my dream, I could hear myself saying something really bitchy, but then stopping and tempering my voice and telling him, good for you. I'm glad.
And as I left my parents' house where I grew up and where they no longer live, I saw him trying his old tricks, trying to follow me. And that's where the dream gets all retarded and I'm leading him - not really - on a high speed chase.

Some back story.
Trustworthy T was not trustworthy. He was tortured. He had a tortured soul. And my soul rushed to soothe his. This, of course, cannot be done and many years did his soul, his being, torment mine.
Also: he was a dick. A right asshole.
He was the closest thing I have had to a boyfriend and yet, he wasn't my boyfriend.
He was abusive. And a drunk. Oh, and don't forget, mentally ill. He had crazy ideas and in high school and after, I ate them up.
In the beginning, he called all the girls, "Doll." Heartrendingly adorable. He wore sunglasses, Ray-bans, all the time, even at night. He was small and smoldering. Dark hair, dark eyes.
And I wanted desperately, needed desperately, to be in his life. We became inseparable.
Through the years, once I finally, finally ended it. I've demonized him. I'm not sure it is fair but he is not the hero in my story. And he was one abusive fuck.
And I was addicted.

I've effectively hidden from him for years - but then with home ownership and the ever-connected web, I'm sure he knows exactly where I am. And it is entirely possible that he's watched me. But, at this point, I doubt that he would even care to do as much. He used to stake out and be a right effective stalker but I am sure I am not his prey. Not anymore.
He's threatened more than once to kill my parents, to kill me. And I told him I would never have the strength to leave him again but I did, finally, and this time it stuck.

My chest feels heavy and tightly coiled. And the sadness is heavy, heavy.

And the reality probably is
He is probably happy and well. Good for him.
And I am not. Sad for me.

Let him be happy -- far away from me.
But don't I deserve some happiness? What should I do to find it? To release this pain inside my chest?

Mid-week, Mid-October

I've been having trouble posting recently because while I'm not terribly sad, I'm not terribly happy either.

I have been doing some good work, so that's a bonus.

I did, this past weekend, attempt to clean my shower. Yep, you read that right. This entire weekend. Also: attempt. You see, I have a really, really big shower/tub enclosure. It is a sunken, tiled-in expanse of approximately six feet long and four feet wide. The tile reaches all the way to the ceiling which, as I was scrubbing this weekend, I estimated at being 12 feet tall. It is supposed to be a tub, it's rectangular and (as I've said) tiled and missing some grout and doesn't hold water very well. Even if it did hold the water well, the surface area is so vast, the water cools down almost immediately.
Now, I used to clean it fairly regularly, if not often, but when I had that last bad bout of depression--it got really bad, mostly because I did not notice until it was downright disgusting. I've tried to clean it a bit since then but have found that it just might be too late for my shower. I might have to burn it down and gather the insurance money and go on vacation where, supposedly, some unseen hands clean their showers for them.
I bought the foaming kind of cleaner that goes on one color and then once clean should magically change color so that you know you don't have any work to do at all. Well. I sprayed it on (and unlike the commercial in which it appears that it is sprayed on and at an undetermined future point the foam will go blue - wait, white - it started blue) and it immediately went from one color to the finalized "clean" color. I wiped away. And then I kinda scrubbed away. And while the tile did look better it brought up the notion that it was cleaner but not clean. Plus with my shower being so big, I broke the task into different sections. Also - it might have said on the container and I didn't read it, but the tile canNOT be wet. It has to be completely dry. So I had to further break up the cleaning process.

Ok. You are totally bored now, I can tell. The final point being: the shower is cleaner, not clean.
But I also cleaned at my toilet, which is pretty near sparkly, I'll tell you.

Perhaps all of this is my perfectionism, which is supposedly to blame for my procrastinationism. (procrastinationness? heeee.)

I also attempted to put away laundry - but mostly just put away bedding. I attempted to clean the guest toilet - which is grody. Ack. Gag. Boys are nasty. Girls ain't no picnic neither.
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We did come down early again this week and it seems to be working better. At least my week isn't so strained in the very beginning. We have finished the Percy Jackson audio books and have moved on to swashbuckling privateers - aka murderous pirates. It's fairly gross but at least it's different.

My friend B just shot me an email. She's having "a fucking asshole of a day." Let's all send her some good juju, shall we?

OOOH! Also: the #Occupy movement has not stopped. It has increased. See if it's come to your city/town. Support them. It's for all of us.

A Sunday mid-October

The weather here is starting to lighten up. Not by much, granted, but at least when you're in an air-conditioned room or house, you're actually cool. Unlike during the height of the summer and you walk into a room from the outside and for a moment it's like heaven and then you realize, it's hot in there too.

OOOH. I maybe mis-spoke. It's gonna be a hundred today. Ewww. But it is cooling down nicely overnight. I think. Maybe I'm just turning the a/c down lower. That is a distinct possibility.

Eh, it's always hot until Halloween. I always say that and it's always true. You go out and you buy a very light, nearly-naked costume because it has been so freaking hot and then Halloween night comes (which let's face it, is November) and it is Cold. Not cold like the mid-west but Phoenix cold.
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I was riding a high of my accomplishments all through Friday and I crashed and burned yesterday. Ahhhh, Depression. I cannot forget you.

Had a nice dinner with my cousin last night. The brain doctor. (Fancy, right?) Anyway, it was pleasant, as it always is. Then we went and saw a small play. Wow. Powerful stuff. Then came home and hung out for awhile with Mc. Let me tell you, at this time in my life, I really appreciate having him around. And so I told him.

What a difference feeling good makes. *There's* an understatement. But seriously, I was cleaning the shower and the toilet, I was moisturizing, I was wearing mascara (gasp!). Oh, I was taking vitamins. Last night, I was so tired / uncaring I didn't even take my crazy pill(s).

G came over and rescued me yesterday. I had locked myself out with the dogs. Heh. I just picked up the phone to call him. I got as far as the area code and remembered that he is busy today. He is always busy. - It was super nice of him to come and rescue me (said without sarcasm). What followed felt like torture, though. It just felt awkward and it felt like he wanted to leave but didn't know how to tell me he had to leave and that I would accuse him of not really having to leave and he was trying to avoid a fight. Eh, probably my fault because Mc got a puppy without asking me and I asked if G thought that was ok and G kinda went off on me about it. G thinks it's ok. Obviously. -Problem is: we are just Not Connecting. At all. On any level. He is so busy and I am not useful to him. It's a problem. A major problem. He's being a shitty friend. Maybe so am I. I just can't figure out what to do differently.

Ok. I'm gonna get myself and my crapola together and get Dad some breakie. Then I have to plan the evening meal. Boo.

Victory, sort of.

I've been feeling very sad. And that is such an understatement that I don't even have words to describe how lacking they are to tell you how sad I've been.

It's like all the joy in the world has been murdered.

And this week at work . . . well, it's a deadline week. So much needed to be done - including my parents' tax return.

I started the day on a roll and quickly got many things accomplished and felt pretty darn pleased with myself. I knew pain would come - and I let it. I sat alone in my office and cried and did my parents' tax return. After the first few waves of grief, I calmed down for a good portion of the day and was able to work the data in front of me. I skipped over the rental and the business and just went through the rest of the information. When it was time, I had to swing back to the business and enter the information there. It started new, fresh pain. And I cried.

I cried for a good portion of the evening but finished the return. Maybe it was cleansing, maybe not - but it was necessary. I did what was needed and finished the tax return. Good for me.

P.S.
Also: I had pleasant dreams last night. A welcome relief.
Also: they starred a handsome man whose picture I've posted before. Heeeee. I was a dork in my dreams, just as I'd be in real life. So much for fantasy.

Good news.

A little off topic, but still.

Three women were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize yesterday. All three work for equality and social justice. That's amazing! Good for them. Good for us.

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
Leymah Gbowee
Tawakkul Karman

Again Sad

I haven't posted in a few days because I've been really very sad.
Nothing to say that's witty or funny or even anything beyond wallowing in my sadness.

And there's a whole bunch of anger. Anger scares me. I believe it can cause cancer if it continues unchecked. (I am not! saying! that everyone with cancer caused it by being angry! I just believe it can poison a system and that poison can contribute to cancer.) I do. I believe it.
Also, this anger I'm feeling - doesn't seem to have a beginning or an ending. It just is. It's kind of like oxygen. It's surrounding me and entering into my lungs and then flowing into my veins fueling every part of me - and also poisoning like dirty air, polluted and foul.

Mostly I am just splintered. A shard stabbing there, a piece breaking off here.
Many years ago, I was doing a little dance, in my house, in my bare feet. I stepped on an earring full on and the pain was so intense, I twisted my ankle hard and broke it. Actually, it shattered. This is apparently what happened because it happened so fast, I was on the floor in intense pain. I kept walking on it and it kept getting worse: more pain, more swelling. Only years later, after I had broken it again and x-rays were taken did the tech say, "You've broken your ankle before," did I know that that moment, I shattered something vaguely important and it would haunt me endlessly. I had never taken care of it, precisely. That's a story for another time. But I have these shards floating around in my ankle that never healed.
Now, every once in awhile, one of the shards from that faithful, funny dance hit a nerve, and I crumble and fall into a heap from the pain of it all.
This is what my depression/grieving feels like. Except it's not months and years between events. It's hours and days. I'm just going about my business and Bam! huddled mass writhing in pain on the floor.

This is me. Angerball and hideous misery circulating through me trying their best to fuse and become one.

I'm damn tired of it. And there's anger there too. Anger at myself for feeling this way. And anger begets anger.

Now what?

I've been taking more of the seroquel. Hoping it will help. Sleep is not coming easy. Only pain. That comes easy enough.

So I was thinking

That's always a bad sign: me thinking.

Yeah, I was thinking that I need to lose some weight. (Ha! Seriously.) And that if I begin right now, I have approximately seven months before the end of tax season. And maybe, just maybe, if I work my ass off (heee literally) I can lose a hundred pounds. (A 100 lbs.)

!!!

Yeah, that was yesterday and the day before. I was sincerely thinking that.

I went off sugar and stayed off for a week. Until last night and I had some cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. And today I couldn't shake the wanting of Cheetos. Bastard, that Chester Cheetah.

I went for a walk with Mc and the girls and the new girl. And this morning I went for a short but heaving chest/short of breath walk up a (slight) hill.
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I'm *expletive* sad. Just sad. Depressed. I just saw my doctor and told him I was doing better on the medicine. And maybe I am. But I'm going to go and take the entire pill and see if it helps at all. Just too sad to function at this point.

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Oooh! My cousin may be getting a new house. She's in escrow (I guess) and is just waiting for the pieces to fall into place.
And! I just bought her a Zombie Garden Gnome! I am so pleased. She really loves zombies and apocalyptical stuff, so I'm thinking that I've just purchased the perfect housewarming present. I hope I have, anyway.

I got it from Etsy and if you type in "garden zombie gnome" into google or etsy, you can purchase one too.

I had to use my credit card but hey, you only live once, right?

________________

How do I stop from feeling this way?

Huh. That wasn't really helpful. I just typed "bereavement" into google and it came up with information - well, lots of information, but the top site talked about severe symptoms only lasting two months. Really, two? Yeah. That's an issue. Now I'm worried about that, too.

I am sad today

I got up and went to the doctor. Pretty standard, really.
I called my father and met him up at the car repair place. More money going to the car - but it's old, it needs some TLC. Plus: it got us through our cross-country odyssey, so it deserves a break today. Ha!
We went to a soup and salad bar for lunch/breakfast. It was a nice change of pace.
Went back to his place and I finished up the laundry, folded and put away, etc. I also washed this footstool/cube thing that my mother had purchased that had goodness-knows-what all over it. I'm hoping putting the cube under the one side of the bed will make it less tilt-y and easier for me to get out of it.
I just am sad. Crying, really. A little, anyway. As much as I'll let myself, which isn't much.
Mc bought a dog. She's a tiny little thing. A Boston Terrier that actually squeaks when she barks. That'll get annoying really quick! But we went for a walk - all of us, Mc and his new girl and me and my two girls. Let's hope a little exercise will get me out of my depression.

I forgot to say "Rabbit"

Long ago in a nebula far, far away in a land called Virginia, Virginia Beach to be precise, I was a young school girl. And at this particular school there was a grey-haired teacher named Mrs. Webster.

She was alright.

But she had a secret.

Her secret involved her teaching style. She would encourage us to get all of our work done, because if we did, we could listen to story time. If you didn't finish your work, you would have to stay at the back of the classroom where the lights were on and work on work. If you had completed your work, you were treated to having the lights dimmed and getting comfortable on the floor with mats and pillows to listen to her tell stories.

Still, her true secret was her story-telling ability. She told fantastical stories about a young girl in the pioneer times ala Laura Ingalls Wilder who was chased and eventually captured by non-PC and savage "Indians." It was actually one story told over many pieces, many days, many weeks that continued and wove such a great tapestry that all these years later, I can remember it. Well, parts of it, anyway. There was danger, suspense, and action galore! It really wrapped up our young minds into another world.

One thing Mrs. Webster told us I still remember and I still practice to this day. It was that if you say "rabbit" the very first thing on the first day of the month, you would get a present. You wouldn't know when it was going to be but sometime during that month, you would get a surprise.

It's quite a difficult thing to do, to utter "rabbit" first thing in the morning when you wake up, the first thought in your mind. As adults, at least for me, things start zinging through my mind, not the least of which is "10 more minutes" and "damn, I'm late."

Try it yourself. I have found it is always true. I always receive a present some time during the month that I remember to declare "rabbit" first thing. I must confess, however, that I only ever remember to proclaim, "Rabbit!" on the first day of my birth month and December. Months guaranteed to offer up presents. But still, every month I try to remember and some months I do. And I get a present without fail.