I should begin with an apology - To anyone who goes on to spend some amount of time with Billy Ray occupying your brain... I sincerely apologize (kind of)!
TLOML and I have finally had a cross word, she simply failed to understand the way it works when I cook something. When I cook - anyone who is going to consume the output simply MUST contribute to the chorus of angles singing "Hallelujah"; they MUST prearrange a Standing Ovation! Then upon tasting the gold encrusted output they MUST collapse in paroxysms of rapturous delight! It is simply NOT acceptable to stay on the phone and suggest that this ambrosia can be reheated later. Needless to say I got snippy, one might even say pissy... or if one was not very favourably disposed towards me one might say shitty... I didn't yell or scream, I didn't do back-flips of uncouth gestures, I think I kind of hurumphed off with words that were vaguely aligned with the much maligned and totally attitudinous "Whatever".
Interestingly enough the day after this moody 'tudey outburst I began doing the prereading for my soon to begin Master of Conflict and Dispute Resolution (yes the irony is not lost on me). One of the first things I learned is that the ability to simultaneously comprehend and understand multiple diverse points of view is a sign of having a highly developed ability to manage conflict. In effect I can recognize that my expectations with regard to the award presentation that needs to take place every time I come within a foot of the stove are unreasonable, and perhaps even a little childish, while simultaneously feeling angry and disrespected that those expectations have not been met. I have learned that when I feel these conflicting feelings (or perhaps when my inner adult is not doing a good enough job of giving my inner child a time out) I am engaging in intrapersonal conflict. I actually do quite a lot of that I think!
Now here is not the place to sound off about anyone else's contribution to a dispute so I will simply say that there are some aspects of my personality that might be just a touch anal and that I am not always my best and most grown up self when other people are a bit more loosey goosey with plans and targets than I am. Interestingly I gave the appearance of being hard and TLOML found that off-putting. I'm not hard, I'm never hard... that audible clang which sounds so hard is actually my shell crashing closed over my wounded, wimpy innards. I am a good representative subject of my star sign - Cancer. Under threat (real or imagined) this super-sensitive little crab hunkers down inside her shell with her pincers raised in defense.
In view of the fact that TLOML and I have been going through quite a stressful, and very frustrating, external situation I really think we are doing pretty well. It hasn't been easy for either of us and we have both proved ourselves to be capable of empathizing with the other and gently trying to find solutions that minimize the damage to us as a couple. As in all things communication is the absolute key and I know that I really shouldn't get cranky about not getting my standing ovation when I haven't fully explained the imperative need of said standing ovation (and the chorus of angels and paroxysms of rapture). We have talked it out, and moved on, feeling more loving and stronger and hopefully a little more aware of our individual needs.
OK so much for the bitchy part... now to the itchy... eeep!!! I now don't know if the stings are real or imagined. This place is crawling with a staggering bio-diversity of stinging and biting things! Over the last few days I have been almost constantly scratching. My skin is on the move with real, and brain induced false, sensations of being stung or bitten. I spend so much time slapping myself that I should get a pair of lederhosen and take up German folk dancing. I also overdid it a few days ago when I replaced the decking boards on the landing and I've been paying with constant muscle pain and roving spasms. Oh well at least I achieved something, I could have had the same pain and spasm while doing nothing. I'd like to launch into a big whinge right now about how irritated I am re hurting all the time but I'd rather close by suggesting that all stove manufacturers consider installing a special feature - when you turn the dial to OFF, the stove should play a soundtrack of a crowd giving a rousing round of applause, cheering and yelling "BRAVO!!!"
Showing posts with label expectations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label expectations. Show all posts
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Rump pain and pain rump (Unsafe for vegetarians)
The other day TLOML and I walked into the bigger of the two tiny stupidmarkets on the island and I noticed an incredible deal in the meat department... Whole rump was for sale for only $5 a kilogram (this equates to roughly $2.27 per pound for my imperialist readers). We are both pretty determined bargain hunters and we both believe in stocking up when things are on sale. I went through all the vacuum sealed rumps and chose what looked to be the nicest one, fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective, it was also one of the largest weighing in at well over 8 kg (roughly 18 lbs).
When I last lived in Australia back in the 1990's I lived in an area on the NSW Mid North Coast that, aside from being spectacularly beautiful, had a thriving beef industry. Our town of 10,000 people had no less than 8 butcher shops in the early 90's. Back in those days, when I was settled in a long term relationship with the woman who is The Boy's other parent, we often bought things like whole rump or a side of lamb. We would carry it home and I would spend however long it took to slice and freeze the spoils of our shopping trip.
I actually come from a long line of butchers. My dad was a doctor (pun intended) and his mother was the daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and great-great-granddaughter of butchers. I am seriously not kidding. My first Australian ancestor was a convict who arrived at the colony in 1792 and almost immediately established a butcher business where he employed/was allocated other convicts as labourers. That butcher shop was in George St Sydney opposite the Town Hall. While I understand that some may find this abhorrent I have actually always quite enjoyed handling meat
Now I know that others may want to hit me upside the head with a brick for being so thick, but yet again... yes I know this is a recurrent problem... I failed to realize that I am not in fact the same healthy, fit person I was fifteen years ago.
First I spent about two days looking at this massive package that was dominating one shelf in the fridge. Then I began a familiarization process with TLOML's set of knives that were sharp like sledgehammers. I'm not sure if I have mentioned it here lately but ever since the night of the Shabbat dinner (where I spent a while washing dishes) I have had a lingering case of 'Wimpy Arms Syndrome'(WAS). I'm not actually as weak as I feel, I can do stuff with my arms but afterwards I always feel like my arms are in an anaerobic state - sometimes for days. In a knife attack of a different kind I attacked the knives with the steel. That wore me out and exacerbated the 'WAS'.
Finally on Monday I copped a total rush and after dropping TLOML off to work I set about butchering the rump. Wow what a mammoth undertaking! This was clearly made more mammoth by my fixation on trimming ALL the fat from anything other than steaks. I would cut off the fatty bits and then cut the meat left on the fatty bits off them for the dog... I don't want to clog her arteries any more than I want to clog my own! I got half way through and had to have a rest for a while. Not only was the 'WAS' playing up but standing was making the rest of my body rebel and the rump was becoming quite a pain in the butt!
I resumed after a couple of hours horizontal. I ended up with;
When I last lived in Australia back in the 1990's I lived in an area on the NSW Mid North Coast that, aside from being spectacularly beautiful, had a thriving beef industry. Our town of 10,000 people had no less than 8 butcher shops in the early 90's. Back in those days, when I was settled in a long term relationship with the woman who is The Boy's other parent, we often bought things like whole rump or a side of lamb. We would carry it home and I would spend however long it took to slice and freeze the spoils of our shopping trip.
I actually come from a long line of butchers. My dad was a doctor (pun intended) and his mother was the daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, and great-great-granddaughter of butchers. I am seriously not kidding. My first Australian ancestor was a convict who arrived at the colony in 1792 and almost immediately established a butcher business where he employed/was allocated other convicts as labourers. That butcher shop was in George St Sydney opposite the Town Hall. While I understand that some may find this abhorrent I have actually always quite enjoyed handling meat
Now I know that others may want to hit me upside the head with a brick for being so thick, but yet again... yes I know this is a recurrent problem... I failed to realize that I am not in fact the same healthy, fit person I was fifteen years ago.
First I spent about two days looking at this massive package that was dominating one shelf in the fridge. Then I began a familiarization process with TLOML's set of knives that were sharp like sledgehammers. I'm not sure if I have mentioned it here lately but ever since the night of the Shabbat dinner (where I spent a while washing dishes) I have had a lingering case of 'Wimpy Arms Syndrome'(WAS). I'm not actually as weak as I feel, I can do stuff with my arms but afterwards I always feel like my arms are in an anaerobic state - sometimes for days. In a knife attack of a different kind I attacked the knives with the steel. That wore me out and exacerbated the 'WAS'.
Finally on Monday I copped a total rush and after dropping TLOML off to work I set about butchering the rump. Wow what a mammoth undertaking! This was clearly made more mammoth by my fixation on trimming ALL the fat from anything other than steaks. I would cut off the fatty bits and then cut the meat left on the fatty bits off them for the dog... I don't want to clog her arteries any more than I want to clog my own! I got half way through and had to have a rest for a while. Not only was the 'WAS' playing up but standing was making the rest of my body rebel and the rump was becoming quite a pain in the butt!
I resumed after a couple of hours horizontal. I ended up with;
- two huge steaks
- five normal sized steaks
- six thin BBQ or sandwich steaks
- one about 1.5kg chunk for roasting
- roughly three kg of trimmed sliced stir fry meat (completely fat free)
I froze all of it except half the stir fry meat that I cooked up into my mother's famous steak diane for dinner. I don't know what has come over me. Here I am cooking twice in a week when in 2010 I probably only cooked twice in the whole year! I am developing a terror that TLOML now has these outrageous expectations of my performance as a "Domestic Goddess". Over and over I am telling her that I really can't cook and I only have three dishes (yes there is one still to come)... She doesn't believe me. I hate cooking. Oy Vey!
So just in case my cooking is exciting any interest in you, my long suffering reader, I will tell you how I made the steak diane.
Start with a nice quality cut of meat in my case rump (duh)... I have tried with blade which wasn't nearly as nice. Slice it very thinly and cut into pieces about 1.5 inches by 1 inch (it doesn't really matter as long as it is cut VERY thinly). Trim all fat and gristle from the meat. The closer to completely lean the better. The next thing I did was marinate the steak in a mixture of 3 parts red wine to 1 part Worcestershire Sauce, about a quarter of a cup of minced garlic (maybe a heaped tablespoon), and a VERY generous sprinkle of black pepper (I also threw in about fifteen whole black peppercorns). Just to give you some idea of proportions this was marinating in a tupperware container about 9 inches by 6 and was about 3 inches deep. I tossed that in the fridge and had another lie down that was urgently needed. The next thing I did was put the whole mix into a large saucepan on medium heat. I brought it to the boil stirring regularly and then turned it down and allowed it to simmer for a long time... maybe an hour? Well until it was reduced to about an inch less moisture in the pan than there was to begin. Then I poured in 600ml of thickened cream (just when you were thinking this might actually be good for you LOL), stirred constantly until it returned to a slow simmer. Then you just let it keep cooking with regular stirring until the meat is in a medium runny sauce... somewhere between a thin goulash and a thick soup. As you can tell by these instructions I have no idea about cooking descriptions, quantities, temps, or timing. To top it off I almost never taste what I am cooking and I cook by smell. If it looks and smells alright then it will taste ok too. It should be very strongly flavoured with the garlic and the pepper well represented. I made enough to feed the two of us for two nights.
OK TLOML was in the throes of ecstasy over the steak diane (I'm sure more than half the ecstasy comes from her not having to think about dinner for two nights in a row). So I have gone and given the wrong impression completely! She seems to think I'm pretty terrific and I hate the idea of the fall I am going to suffer when she sees how hopeless I really am. Now you know why I haven't been blogging as much lately... it's hard work being terrific!
Sunday, 11 December 2011
Women Do Something (Continuing the conversation)
A couple of weeks ago I attended an event called Women Say Something and, naturally because I tell you guys almost everything, I blogged about it. Thanks to that first event and the wonders of Facebook I am now hooked in to some super cool active women, the kind of women who get off their arses and make an event like this happen. It seemed natural that I would go to the follow up event, after all it was free and I am broke, it's about feminist issues and I'm a feminist. Best of all the event was attended by the fabulous Kimberly Dark.
Kimberly is a sociologist and a story teller. She uses humour, irony and anecdote to open our eyes to the strange and interesting diversity of thought and perspective in our world. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to attend and to enjoy her work.
Lots of very interesting topics were raised and discussed by the group. Many would be worthy of exploration and commentary. The thing that resonated with me most intensely was the need to hold to our beliefs and represent our points of view every day in as many situations as we encounter. One articulate young woman pointed out that thirty or forty years ago there was a huge gap in equality, it was blatant and gaping. It was easy to see the cause, to know what was needed in the fight for Women's Liberation, for the Women's Movement, for Feminism. So many things have changed and so many barriers have been broken down that it is more difficult than it was back then to simplistically categorize the target. Yet inequity still exists in every arena. As the young woman put it, "there are many small gaps rather than one large one".
I can't remember a time in my life when I did not believe that we influence the world one person at a time. Mostly, on a day to day basis, I just try to make people smile in the hopes that they too will make someone else smile. Long before that disgusting schmaltzy movie "Pay It Forward" claimed the high ground I believed in the difference small interactions can make. As a lesbian I have always been "Out and Proud" in virtually every situation I have lived through. This is how you combat homophobia. You keep showing people that gay people are just normal everyday people like them, they/we are their friends, co-workers, family etc. I don't think anyone has ever said this better than Hilary Clinton did recently at the Human Rights Day in Geneva, here courtesy of the Huffington Post is a transcript of her brilliant speech.. I digress...
Feminist is (as Girlwiththecane said in a comment on the last blog) still a dirty word.. But I don't really care what we call it (though it would be convenient to have a title that symbolically represented basically the same thing to everyone) but I do care about women and equality. I believe we need to not shirk the day to day responsibility of having the courage of our convictions. The courage to clearly state what we believe and why it matters to us. I believe that we need to be Out and Proud as women and as feminists (regardless of the title). We are 51% of the population, the world over, and we own less than 1% of the world's property.
Kimberly is a sociologist and a story teller. She uses humour, irony and anecdote to open our eyes to the strange and interesting diversity of thought and perspective in our world. I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to attend and to enjoy her work.
Me under the star with the star of the show, Kimberly Dark.
Lots of very interesting topics were raised and discussed by the group. Many would be worthy of exploration and commentary. The thing that resonated with me most intensely was the need to hold to our beliefs and represent our points of view every day in as many situations as we encounter. One articulate young woman pointed out that thirty or forty years ago there was a huge gap in equality, it was blatant and gaping. It was easy to see the cause, to know what was needed in the fight for Women's Liberation, for the Women's Movement, for Feminism. So many things have changed and so many barriers have been broken down that it is more difficult than it was back then to simplistically categorize the target. Yet inequity still exists in every arena. As the young woman put it, "there are many small gaps rather than one large one".
I can't remember a time in my life when I did not believe that we influence the world one person at a time. Mostly, on a day to day basis, I just try to make people smile in the hopes that they too will make someone else smile. Long before that disgusting schmaltzy movie "Pay It Forward" claimed the high ground I believed in the difference small interactions can make. As a lesbian I have always been "Out and Proud" in virtually every situation I have lived through. This is how you combat homophobia. You keep showing people that gay people are just normal everyday people like them, they/we are their friends, co-workers, family etc. I don't think anyone has ever said this better than Hilary Clinton did recently at the Human Rights Day in Geneva, here courtesy of the Huffington Post is a transcript of her brilliant speech.. I digress...
Feminist is (as Girlwiththecane said in a comment on the last blog) still a dirty word.. But I don't really care what we call it (though it would be convenient to have a title that symbolically represented basically the same thing to everyone) but I do care about women and equality. I believe we need to not shirk the day to day responsibility of having the courage of our convictions. The courage to clearly state what we believe and why it matters to us. I believe that we need to be Out and Proud as women and as feminists (regardless of the title). We are 51% of the population, the world over, and we own less than 1% of the world's property.
Courtesy of Girl's Guide to Taking Over The World
This fight has not been won.
This struggle is not over.
This complacency is killing us.
Every day in every interaction, we, the ordinary people not just the high profile organizers and activists, WE need to take this debate to our friends, our co-workers, and our families...
Stand up and be counted or stand down and be trodden on.
(As an aside some of the women were kicking on for a drink at my old stomping ground The Imperial but unfortunately I was starting to get that urge to be horizontal so I gave it a miss... maybe next time!)
(As an aside some of the women were kicking on for a drink at my old stomping ground The Imperial but unfortunately I was starting to get that urge to be horizontal so I gave it a miss... maybe next time!)
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Is you is, or is you ain't depressed?
Yesterday I had a bit of an argument with the psychologist I have been seeing,
She thinks that I'm depressed and I don't think that I am any more depressed than any intelligent person would be in my situation. There's a lot of stuff going on in my life at the moment that is cause for concern. Problems with housing, money, the government, oh and let's not forget the stress and uncertainty associated with my health. There would be something wrong with me if I were vivacious, bright, bubbly and effervescent all the time! Quite frankly, if you take your car to the mechanic and you tell him what is wrong with it, is he or she very likely to turn around and tell you you sound like you hate your car? Of course when I am at the psychologist I talk about the things that are bothering me! I have been depressed, I've been down in the blackest parts of my soul. Hell, I've hung out down there and had a good look around; stirred up the demons. I know what depression feels like and this isn't it!
Perhaps I should be aiming to give a more fair and balanced account of my state of mind? Maybe then people would stop asking me if I am thinking about hurting myself? (This was asked at least 5 times last week which I must confess was a rather low week for me.) More to the point I am concerned that if the medical professionals who are handling my case start to focus on the idea that I am depressed the next thing they will be saying is that the pain and fatigue (and all their nasty little friends) are all caused by depression and THAT is quite simply NOT the, case. This pain has followed me, to a greater or lesser extent, through all kinds of emotions, through great highs and horrible lows, through hopeful excitement and abject misery.
Sooooooooo in view of the fact that it has been Thanksgiving in the US, the first Thanksgiving I have missed in a dozen years I am going to talk about some of the things that I am hopeful and excited about.
She thinks that I'm depressed and I don't think that I am any more depressed than any intelligent person would be in my situation. There's a lot of stuff going on in my life at the moment that is cause for concern. Problems with housing, money, the government, oh and let's not forget the stress and uncertainty associated with my health. There would be something wrong with me if I were vivacious, bright, bubbly and effervescent all the time! Quite frankly, if you take your car to the mechanic and you tell him what is wrong with it, is he or she very likely to turn around and tell you you sound like you hate your car? Of course when I am at the psychologist I talk about the things that are bothering me! I have been depressed, I've been down in the blackest parts of my soul. Hell, I've hung out down there and had a good look around; stirred up the demons. I know what depression feels like and this isn't it!
Perhaps I should be aiming to give a more fair and balanced account of my state of mind? Maybe then people would stop asking me if I am thinking about hurting myself? (This was asked at least 5 times last week which I must confess was a rather low week for me.) More to the point I am concerned that if the medical professionals who are handling my case start to focus on the idea that I am depressed the next thing they will be saying is that the pain and fatigue (and all their nasty little friends) are all caused by depression and THAT is quite simply NOT the, case. This pain has followed me, to a greater or lesser extent, through all kinds of emotions, through great highs and horrible lows, through hopeful excitement and abject misery.
Sooooooooo in view of the fact that it has been Thanksgiving in the US, the first Thanksgiving I have missed in a dozen years I am going to talk about some of the things that I am hopeful and excited about.
- I'm eagerly anticipating going back to University next year. I see it as an opportunity to retrain into an area where I might be able to get high paying part-time work that I could participate in regardless of the effect of fibromyalgia (or whatever the hell this is). I also see University as an opportunity for me to shine and to increase my pretty low self-esteem. I have always done well in the past and I hope to do well again. Furthermore it is an opportunity to meet bright, interesting people and to expand my social circle.
- I have been spending time with The Boy who is now looking at staying in Sydney and perhaps not moving to the UK for a while. He makes me feel happy and proud and we are close and getting along well (complete with our usual bickering).
- I have rediscovered many of my old friends and I have been spending time with them and I have been feeling appreciated and cared for. The Best Friend is like a shining beacon of warmth and support and makes me laugh hysterically every time we meet!
- The Reader is angling to get me some copy writing work which would be something I could comfortably do while lying down (which I spend 80% of my life doing). This would help with my financial woes, and perhaps even my housing problems.
- Then, out of the blue, there is The New Connection with an old friend that seems to be blossoming into something tender and beautiful. There is even a tiny little voice inside me that is asking ...? well... I'll pause that thought for now. However she is coming to visit Sydney soon and I am very much looking forward to spending time with her when she is here.
- I have been seeing a really AWESOME group of doctors. Dr McLovely is caring. helpful, compassionate and kind and Professor McCool is uber cool and is leaving no stone unturned. While his investigations are hanging over me a bit at the moment I am definitely more hopeful than fearful.
- Today I had a telephone interview for a part-time job. The good news is that it will not be until next year which gives me some time to resolve all the issues that are holding me back at the moment. Hopefully by then I will also be feeling better and stronger and I'll be able to work this around my University studies.
Yesterday I had an MRI (ordered by McCool) so no more calling me brainless, ok? I do have a brain I have a picture to prove it! I will be seeing McCool on Monday afternoon and although I am frightened of some of the possibilities (and of him finding nothing) I am also excited and hopeful that there might be something that can be treated. Naturally this is hanging over me to some extent... but I am honestly more hopeful than trepiditious.
Anxiety, I will cop to, I do have issues with anxiety and stress is a huge trigger for me, but depression? Not at the moment!
Monday, 7 November 2011
Expectations are the root of all disappointment
The title of this blog is my phrase - I coined it about thirty years ago and I have never heard anyone else saying it... It came to me in one of those fits of clarity when one of the pieces falls into place... It came to me when I had an awakening that my dad was never going to be like Gidget's dad. He was never going to be Mike Brady or the character Brian Keith played in A Family Affair; not Father Knows Best, not Ward Cleaver. There was a seminal moment when I realized that I was unhappy because I had expectations that were not being met.
Were they reasonable expectations? I'ts a good thing you asked that question! Is it ever reasonable to expect someone to give more than they want to give? Is it ever reasonable to expect someone to be someone they are not? Is it ever reasonable to think you should be welcome at your father's home?
I wrote a blog the other day about my disappointment in my brothers not attending Eileen's funeral and I took it down because I thought I had been too hard on them. Their reasons were valid and it is unreasonable for me to subject them to the standard of honour I apply to myself. Yesterday before the funeral Gay Brother called me to ask me to convey his regrets which was fine, but in the conversation I told him that I have a problem with my thyroid (among other things) and he casually said that Straight Brother has also. Straight Brother has a auto-immune disease that is strongly hereditary and Gay Brother had been tested but did not have it. At the time I was only mildly perturbed and the conversation moved on. Later when I was thinking about the conversation I started to be very concerned that no one had bothered to tell me. If the condition is hereditary and Gay Brother bothered to get checked out why did it not occur to either of my brothers to tell me so that I could be checked out? Why didn't anyone remember that I too carry the same genes and the same propensity to be affected by the same conditions? It's just another reminder that I am invisible, out of sight - out of mind I guess. It looks, from my blood results, like I have Hashimoto's Disease which manifests at hypothyroidism where my brother's condition manifests as hyperthyroidism. Still, I may have been further along the road to understanding my issues if someone (anyone) had bothered to mention this "hereditary" problem to me. Or is that just another unreasonable expectation?
Today has been physically a BAD day for me. The pain in my shoulder when I washed my hair this morning was so bad I had to sit down and sweat for a few minutes before I could move enough to dry myself, today is one of the days when my clothes are hurting me, when any movement can stimulate a stabbing pain, when everything aches. If I hadn't had an unavoidable appointment I would have spent the day recovering from the not very strenuous day yesterday. At that interview today with the government I was asked when I last had a good day and it made me realize that my definition of a good day is changing. I need to think about that some more. What I call a good day at the moment might well have been what I would have called a bad day 2 years ago. Are these just my expectations making natural adjustments to my situation?
If I could find a way to have no expectations would I always be delighted with what I was given? Would every day be a good day?
(Is this secretly just another point of view on the pessimistic optimist?)
Off to see Dr McLovely now after my urgent horizontal rest.
Were they reasonable expectations? I'ts a good thing you asked that question! Is it ever reasonable to expect someone to give more than they want to give? Is it ever reasonable to expect someone to be someone they are not? Is it ever reasonable to think you should be welcome at your father's home?
I wrote a blog the other day about my disappointment in my brothers not attending Eileen's funeral and I took it down because I thought I had been too hard on them. Their reasons were valid and it is unreasonable for me to subject them to the standard of honour I apply to myself. Yesterday before the funeral Gay Brother called me to ask me to convey his regrets which was fine, but in the conversation I told him that I have a problem with my thyroid (among other things) and he casually said that Straight Brother has also. Straight Brother has a auto-immune disease that is strongly hereditary and Gay Brother had been tested but did not have it. At the time I was only mildly perturbed and the conversation moved on. Later when I was thinking about the conversation I started to be very concerned that no one had bothered to tell me. If the condition is hereditary and Gay Brother bothered to get checked out why did it not occur to either of my brothers to tell me so that I could be checked out? Why didn't anyone remember that I too carry the same genes and the same propensity to be affected by the same conditions? It's just another reminder that I am invisible, out of sight - out of mind I guess. It looks, from my blood results, like I have Hashimoto's Disease which manifests at hypothyroidism where my brother's condition manifests as hyperthyroidism. Still, I may have been further along the road to understanding my issues if someone (anyone) had bothered to mention this "hereditary" problem to me. Or is that just another unreasonable expectation?
Today has been physically a BAD day for me. The pain in my shoulder when I washed my hair this morning was so bad I had to sit down and sweat for a few minutes before I could move enough to dry myself, today is one of the days when my clothes are hurting me, when any movement can stimulate a stabbing pain, when everything aches. If I hadn't had an unavoidable appointment I would have spent the day recovering from the not very strenuous day yesterday. At that interview today with the government I was asked when I last had a good day and it made me realize that my definition of a good day is changing. I need to think about that some more. What I call a good day at the moment might well have been what I would have called a bad day 2 years ago. Are these just my expectations making natural adjustments to my situation?
If I could find a way to have no expectations would I always be delighted with what I was given? Would every day be a good day?
(Is this secretly just another point of view on the pessimistic optimist?)
Off to see Dr McLovely now after my urgent horizontal rest.
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