Age is a funny thing it's relative, personal, and it's tied to time which is such an elastic concept that there seems to be no rhyme or reason. The passage of time is completely esoteric. You certainly can't pin it down.
Yesterday The Best Friend had a birthday. She was treated to the dubious pleasure of TLOML and I singing Happy Birthday onto her answering machine. The Best Friend was one of the youngest women in our class at school. In June I will turn 50 and TLOML hits her half century in November. Strangely,The Chef, who was featured recently in a newspaper article has managed to only be 47.... Hmmm very interesting, cause I am almost certain that she was actually older than me! LOL. Oh well, we know that there are some things that can halt the passage of time and most of them have to do with wealth and fame. I don't blame The Chef really; after all, 50 is a VERY BIG number!
Jazz, my blogging fibro sister, has written a great blog about feeling older than she is and rather than repeat all the things I wanted to say that she has already said I will just link to her here (I'm sure she won't mind). It's a great blog. So often I have ideas fermenting in my brain getting close to becoming a blog and Jazz will jump in just before I am ready to write it and steal all my thunder! Sometimes we seem to be eerily in sync.
My take on this feeling older actually needs to be credited to a conversation I had with The Best Friend a couple of months ago. She pointed out the way elderly people negotiate their way through a crowd. Many/most/perhaps all seniors move near other people with a visible hyper-vigilance. This isn't "defensive driving", it's "defensive walking". Keeping a very close eye on anyone else who is moving nearby and testing the ground before putting all weight on the leading foot has become a way of life for me. I get it, I really get how elderly people feel out in the world. I know what it's like to fear an accidental bump with a stranger - I know because it hurts! It hurts like (insert expletive of your choice) when I get jostled in a stupidmarket queue or when someone laughing unexpectedly steps back into me and it triggers a series of painful spasms that radiate from either the site of impact or from the part of me that moves unexpectedly to save myself. I now travel the world with the wary, skepticism of a bona fide Methuselah!
When I was a kid I never took a staircase at less than two steps at a time; almost every time I ran down steps I would jump down the last five or six. I touched a banister only to vault out of the stairs or down to the next flight. There were two speeds, flat out and stopped. Those days are gone. Now I traverse the globe with care, caution, and a desperate desire to anticipate the movements of any other things that move!
Last night I knocked over a glass of water. Startled myself which hurt my back. Dropped to my knees to wipe up the spillage which caused stabbing pains to explode from both knees. Reached under the bed with the bathmat and seriously popped some kind of tendon in my right shoulder. Then stood up and collapsed on the bed groaning in pain.... see what happens when I am surprised? Thank goodness TLOML was there to take over and clean up my mess. The knees and shoulder have yet to relent. So do I feel older than I am - damn straight I do. Do I move like someone older than I am - pretty much all the time (unless I forget or react and do something like I did with wiping up the spill last night). Do I have that suspicious hyper-vigilance about how other people are moving? Yep, I do.
So to all my geriatric followers (of whom I have none) I get it! I know you are careful and that the cranky look on your face is actually fear. I, like you, fear the unexpected. I don't need to bungee jump for thrills - walking through a crowd is about as much excitement as I can stand!
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 March 2012
Thursday, 16 February 2012
My itchy bitchy heart...
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!!!"
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!!!"
Monday, 6 February 2012
The things I can write..
Well, here's the story - I'd like to write but I can't really talk about the thing that is dominating my thoughts at the moment. Perhaps I can best use this forum to talk about the things that are going well.
- TLOML and I are wonderful together. Even though we have been going through some really very difficult stuff we have supported each other pretty much seamlessly. I could not have imagined that we would work together so well, so caringly (I know that isn't a word), when going through a crisis situation. Our precious new relationship has faced an external assault and has proved resilient and solid. I am astounded by her grace under pressure and by the sensitive awareness she manages to maintain even in the heat of the moment.
- I have been doing reasonably well, health wise lately. A few days of quite bad pain here and there, some weird things (like the whack-a-mole phenomena mentioned in my last blog), and a general weakness, but mostly I would say that life in the tropics is working well for me. This is particularly good in view of the stress of the last few days. I know that I can have an almost immediate physical reaction to stress and fortunately it hasn't been too bad this time. (Not long before leaving Sydney I was in a stressful situation and even while it was still happening I began to experience very acute pain in multiple areas.)
- The day before yesterday (Sunday), as part of a deliberate plan to try and relax a bit, TLOML and I went for a swim in one of the pools formed in a creek. There has been a lot of rain lately and as a result all the creeks and waterfalls are flowing. We slowly and carefully trekked a couple of hundred yards to an oasis of beauty. On the way in, someone leaving pointed out a koala sitting quite low in a tree. I have not seen a koala in the wild since I was a small child. This young fellow was hanging out in the fork of the tree watching us. It was very exciting. We arrived at the pool at about the same time as a young family that was climbing up the creek bed but they didn't stay long and soon we had this natural haven blessedly to ourselves. At one point I lay back and floated, totally relaxed (for the first time in ages!), I looked up though the gum trees to a spectacular blue sky with puffy white clouds. If it sounds idyllic it is only because it is. About the time we were ready to leave another group arrived.... they could not have been more different from us, they had cigarettes, beers in hand, a bull dog, a boom box, and were yelling to each other. It takes all kinds...
- Today in about an hour I will pick up TLOML from work and we are going to take the dog and explore another creek that runs into one of the bays here. Being a weekday, and getting a fairly early start, I'm hoping we will be alone. TLOML never hurries me or becomes irritated with me when I am slow or unsteady; she's always ready to give me a hand or a shoulder to hang onto. About the dog - TLOML has a wonderful dog and we've become pretty close, she hangs out with me all day and then she and I share the highlight of both of our days when we go together to pick up TLOML from work. Four bright loving eyes are waiting in the car for her which must feel pretty good!
- I feel so very fortunate to be here, to be Australian, to live in a country with boundless natural beauty, and abundance. We did an online shopping order and bought a "Fruit Box" which is a selection of the fruit that is good at the moment. It was a bit of a mistake and we ended up with all kinds of things we would not normally order (green apples, strawberries, cherries, red grapes etc) but it has been lovely eating my way through all the stone fruit - peaches, nectarines, apricots and plums and I even feel like I am performing a service by eating them before they go off! The fridge is full of wonderful food, there is beauty at every turn, and I feel loved; how much better does it get than that?
I am missing The Boy, though we talk often on the phone and occasionally on skype, and I'm missing The Best Friend whose warmth and good humour saw me through all those strange and dark days. I talked to her on the phone yesterday for quite a long time and it soothed me. She is taking care of my boy and nurturing him for me.
TLOML has an amazing best friend too and I really need to mention her here... I think I will call her The Nurse. Throughout this stressful situation The Nurse has been an unfailing voice of reason and sense, she has provided direct guidance and constant support, not only of TLOML but also of me. I can barely scratch the surface in expressing my gratitude and appreciation to her for her validation and insight. She has welcomed me unequivocally and I value her in a multitude of ways.
So there you have it... we are taking the rough with the smooth; we are holding together and being kind to each other. So, for someone who couldn't talk about the big issues, I seem to have managed to have plenty to say!
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Shopping... ugh...
The other day while I was waiting in the pain clinic I saw an advertisement on TV for some shoes. I need some new shoes. When I came home from the US I was RUTHLESS, I tell you, I was completely devoid of all RUTH! Any shoes that were uncomfortable, worn, of just plain ugly were unceremoniously consigned to the Goodwill. Any jeans or shorts that were too tight, same destiny. (I still ended up with so much excess baggage to cost me nearly $1000 in baggage fees AND my carry-on bag was over 50 lbs and I couldn't lift it into the over-head locker without some help!)
Unfortunately among the rejects were some very nice semi dressy sandals that had a little heel (maybe an inch and a half), I used to wear them but the leather was a bit hard over my toes and they cut into my feet if I was in them for to long. I also ditched my crocs (making The Boy happy because he thinks they are the ugliest shoes in the world) and my 'go to' comfy heels. So anyway, the shoes advertised were very reasonably priced and I thought I might find something suitable there. There was only one problem... None of their stores are anywhere near where I live.
So today, after a pitiful night's (I say euphemistically) sleep I decided to head out to the factory outlet stores in the western burbs of Sydney. In spite of the fact that I arrived only fifteen minutes after the centre opened there was no handy parking, and there were definitely no disabled parking slots. I'm not sure why but it seems here in Australia there are more "people with babies in prams" parking spots than disabled ones... I'm not sure why, but if I ever figure it out you will definitely hear from me. I eventually found a parking spot and made my way into the stores. The shoe outlet definitely did have lots of potentially suitable shoes but they only had a couple of chairs to sit in while trying on the shoes and working one-handed (as my other hand was busy with my portable banister) I juggled several pairs to try on. I chose a nice pair of sandals with about a two inch heel and for good measure (and to annoy The Boy) I popped for the $5 for a pair of navy blue imitation Crocs too. There is a reason I, a butchish lesbian, wear heels... I know it seems a little incongruous but I have bilateral partial ruptures of my Achilles tendons and flat shoes cause all kinds of pain in that area (unfortunately heels cause all kinds of pain in other areas far to often). A glance towards the two open registers showed lines of at least ten people each, so seeing as I was already there I decided to check out the jeans. The good news is that I have lost about three inches around my waist! (Never fear there is still plenty of me to go around, or should I say to be gone around?) Anyway I did choose a pair of French blue jeans that I think look a little more flattering than the super baggy over-sized jeans I have been wearing lately.
Queues are NOT my friends. Not only am I forced to be on my feet for much longer than is actually comfortable but I also have some issues about having strangers in my personal space and so I get a little anxious when I am in any kind of a "crush" of people. I generally have to practice some self meditation to endure a queue, I picture golden sands, soft breezes, palm trees etc... I waited, for the most part with good grace, I did get a woman behind to hold my place for a moment while I grabbed a shirt for The Boy's Christmas present. I finally paid and escaped and had a collapse for a few minutes on one of the couches in the middle of the passageway. I did make one other purchase of a Christmas present from a cooking shop but by the time I was out of there I was seriously dragging my arse (which is ironically the antithesis of "hauling ass"). I was moving very slowly. Normally my left side is much more painful than my right, for some reason, so I have become accustomed to holding my cane in my right hand but typically today, when I am also carrying shopping bags, my right knee decided to demand my attention. It was very odd trying to coordinate with my cane in my left hand... it felt wrong.
When I got back to the car I was so relieved to flop into the seat that I just sat there for a while before pulling out, to the irritation of the people waiting for my spot. I'm very happy to be home and horizontal again. What an ordeal!
On a lighter note, today it is only six days until TLOML arrives for her first visit. Things have been progressing very nicely on that front. I still feel a little strange using her name and I'm not sure how comfortable I will be whispering "Displaced" to her in a tender moment, the idea of beginning a relationship with someone who has my name is kind of odd. My friend The Mathematician calculated the odds of two people with our specific name becoming a couple and it came out to around one in a billion (based on name stats and population of the US, and a presumption of % of lesbians, and the eye of a frog and the hair of a stegosaurus, add water and stir). It is entirely possible that we may actually be the ONLY couple in the world who share our particular name, which is really pretty cool I think!
It's no secret I am besotted! I must say I have been getting a little anxious about our first meeting, the idea of my mental image of her combining with my memories of her from school and amalgamating into the reality of her live and in person sitting in my passenger seat is VERY exciting and a little frightening too! Still, this experience is the best thing that has swum into my ken (to borrow from Keats) in many long and miserable years and win, lose, or draw I am grateful for every moment.
Rest assured - I will keep you posted!
Unfortunately among the rejects were some very nice semi dressy sandals that had a little heel (maybe an inch and a half), I used to wear them but the leather was a bit hard over my toes and they cut into my feet if I was in them for to long. I also ditched my crocs (making The Boy happy because he thinks they are the ugliest shoes in the world) and my 'go to' comfy heels. So anyway, the shoes advertised were very reasonably priced and I thought I might find something suitable there. There was only one problem... None of their stores are anywhere near where I live.
So today, after a pitiful night's (I say euphemistically) sleep I decided to head out to the factory outlet stores in the western burbs of Sydney. In spite of the fact that I arrived only fifteen minutes after the centre opened there was no handy parking, and there were definitely no disabled parking slots. I'm not sure why but it seems here in Australia there are more "people with babies in prams" parking spots than disabled ones... I'm not sure why, but if I ever figure it out you will definitely hear from me. I eventually found a parking spot and made my way into the stores. The shoe outlet definitely did have lots of potentially suitable shoes but they only had a couple of chairs to sit in while trying on the shoes and working one-handed (as my other hand was busy with my portable banister) I juggled several pairs to try on. I chose a nice pair of sandals with about a two inch heel and for good measure (and to annoy The Boy) I popped for the $5 for a pair of navy blue imitation Crocs too. There is a reason I, a butchish lesbian, wear heels... I know it seems a little incongruous but I have bilateral partial ruptures of my Achilles tendons and flat shoes cause all kinds of pain in that area (unfortunately heels cause all kinds of pain in other areas far to often). A glance towards the two open registers showed lines of at least ten people each, so seeing as I was already there I decided to check out the jeans. The good news is that I have lost about three inches around my waist! (Never fear there is still plenty of me to go around, or should I say to be gone around?) Anyway I did choose a pair of French blue jeans that I think look a little more flattering than the super baggy over-sized jeans I have been wearing lately.
Queues are NOT my friends. Not only am I forced to be on my feet for much longer than is actually comfortable but I also have some issues about having strangers in my personal space and so I get a little anxious when I am in any kind of a "crush" of people. I generally have to practice some self meditation to endure a queue, I picture golden sands, soft breezes, palm trees etc... I waited, for the most part with good grace, I did get a woman behind to hold my place for a moment while I grabbed a shirt for The Boy's Christmas present. I finally paid and escaped and had a collapse for a few minutes on one of the couches in the middle of the passageway. I did make one other purchase of a Christmas present from a cooking shop but by the time I was out of there I was seriously dragging my arse (which is ironically the antithesis of "hauling ass"). I was moving very slowly. Normally my left side is much more painful than my right, for some reason, so I have become accustomed to holding my cane in my right hand but typically today, when I am also carrying shopping bags, my right knee decided to demand my attention. It was very odd trying to coordinate with my cane in my left hand... it felt wrong.
When I got back to the car I was so relieved to flop into the seat that I just sat there for a while before pulling out, to the irritation of the people waiting for my spot. I'm very happy to be home and horizontal again. What an ordeal!
On a lighter note, today it is only six days until TLOML arrives for her first visit. Things have been progressing very nicely on that front. I still feel a little strange using her name and I'm not sure how comfortable I will be whispering "Displaced" to her in a tender moment, the idea of beginning a relationship with someone who has my name is kind of odd. My friend The Mathematician calculated the odds of two people with our specific name becoming a couple and it came out to around one in a billion (based on name stats and population of the US, and a presumption of % of lesbians, and the eye of a frog and the hair of a stegosaurus, add water and stir). It is entirely possible that we may actually be the ONLY couple in the world who share our particular name, which is really pretty cool I think!
It's no secret I am besotted! I must say I have been getting a little anxious about our first meeting, the idea of my mental image of her combining with my memories of her from school and amalgamating into the reality of her live and in person sitting in my passenger seat is VERY exciting and a little frightening too! Still, this experience is the best thing that has swum into my ken (to borrow from Keats) in many long and miserable years and win, lose, or draw I am grateful for every moment.
Rest assured - I will keep you posted!
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!
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Family
Warning - down beat - woe is me - gonna eat worms blog to follow.
Stop reading now unless you take great interest in train wrecks and freeway accidents.
I'm warning you for the last time...
Somehow I have managed to become one of those people almost nobody cares about.
My son is an exception to this sad sack statement. I have a few good friends and I am not in any way belittling their love and kindness, I do feel it and I do appreciate it, but friends are not partners, and friends are not family. My friends have spouses and kids and busy busy lives and I am not integral to their existence.
It's Saturday night and I am sitting alone with my computer on my lap watching/listening to a terrible little TV, with a "rabbits ears" aerial. There is an Agatha Christie mystery showing (I think that is what it is) but there is so much snow that I can't really see the features of any of the actors. I don't care 'cause I don't want to watch it anyway although I the soundtrack in the background fills the void in my room somewhat. My knees are burning (they've been hurting all day) and my left foot is cramping and in spasm, my left hip is throbbing as usual (there is other crap hurting but I'll only bore you with the more extreme issues). I'm worried about Christmas.
My family isn't close. I have two brothers both wrapped up in their own lives/families - my parents are dead. My relationship with my step-mother and step-sister has always been problematic. My sister-in-law, for a reason I have never known, has not spoken a single word to me since 1992 (I think it was because I was pregnant too). My other brother's male partner is a great guy and he and I get along pretty well. Not one of them is in any way interested in what matters to me. how I feel, what I think, what I blog about or anything else. They don't seem to place any value on my intelligence, wit, or insight. You know how you get labeled as a child in a family - "the naughty one", "the clever one", "the sensible one" -- somehow I was tagged as "the serious one" or perhaps "the boring one". On the rare occasions when a member of my family actually "hears" when I say something funny or witty they look at me like I have suddenly explained the physics of a black hole or sung an aria in Italian, because I am NOT "the funny one". (Strangely my friends and former coworkers have never had this same perception.) But I digress...
Recently I returned to Australia after living for 12 years in the US. Aside from my mother's death and my father's funeral I have pretty much managed to avoid all family gatherings. Mum and my gay brother used to visit the US and see me pretty often but mum has been dead now three years.
My step-mother is hosting Christmas. The email invitation came out inviting us all. Everyone's name was mentioned, in-laws and kids too, except mine but I know that was just an oversight - Freudian maybe, but not deliberate. My son was named though! So this motley crew is assembling at her house on Christmas eve, cause everyone except me has lots of other places to be on the actual day. It will be the first time I have been in the same building as my sister-in-law for over 19 years, the first time I have seen my niece and two nephews in at least 10 years, the first time I have seen my straight brother since my dad died 21/2 years ago, and I think it will be the first time we have ever ALL been in the same place.
None of these people have any idea how much FMS is bothering me, even my son doesn't really know, cause I always push so much harder when he is around, I always want him to see the best of me. I don't think either of my brothers even knows I have fibro, though I know I have told them somehow I don't think they really heard me. To be honest I don't think anyone in my family ever hears me. Except to chastise me for my failures, to dictate to me with advice that is not open to discussion, or to patronize me with superficial interaction I don't think they are interested in me at all. I am superfluous.
If I wandered off and none of them ever heard from me again would anyone give a shit? Would anyone look for me if I were kidnapped or wandering lost with amnesia? Would anyone visit me if I was sick in hospital? Aside from my son, the answer is no. I have not fostered or built these relationships, I carry the lions share of the blame, I have created my own irrelevancy. My mother was the glue that bound my brothers and I together, she was so happy when she was dying to see the three of us together getting along, but after she died we just went back to our corners of the world.
I feel unloved and unlovable and I don't know how I will endure this gathering and yet I could never bring myself to not go. I could not deprive myself of even this twisted a gathering of magnified dysfunction. Is it like playing with a sore tooth? Am I drawn to poke at this bruise that exists where family should be? Or is it like most things a mixture of good and bad, happy and sad, healthy and sick, understood and misunderstood, happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain, love and hate...
I guess I will know more on Christmas Day when it is all over and I am sitting alone the same way I am now...
Stop reading now unless you take great interest in train wrecks and freeway accidents.
I'm warning you for the last time...
Somehow I have managed to become one of those people almost nobody cares about.
My son is an exception to this sad sack statement. I have a few good friends and I am not in any way belittling their love and kindness, I do feel it and I do appreciate it, but friends are not partners, and friends are not family. My friends have spouses and kids and busy busy lives and I am not integral to their existence.
It's Saturday night and I am sitting alone with my computer on my lap watching/listening to a terrible little TV, with a "rabbits ears" aerial. There is an Agatha Christie mystery showing (I think that is what it is) but there is so much snow that I can't really see the features of any of the actors. I don't care 'cause I don't want to watch it anyway although I the soundtrack in the background fills the void in my room somewhat. My knees are burning (they've been hurting all day) and my left foot is cramping and in spasm, my left hip is throbbing as usual (there is other crap hurting but I'll only bore you with the more extreme issues). I'm worried about Christmas.
My family isn't close. I have two brothers both wrapped up in their own lives/families - my parents are dead. My relationship with my step-mother and step-sister has always been problematic. My sister-in-law, for a reason I have never known, has not spoken a single word to me since 1992 (I think it was because I was pregnant too). My other brother's male partner is a great guy and he and I get along pretty well. Not one of them is in any way interested in what matters to me. how I feel, what I think, what I blog about or anything else. They don't seem to place any value on my intelligence, wit, or insight. You know how you get labeled as a child in a family - "the naughty one", "the clever one", "the sensible one" -- somehow I was tagged as "the serious one" or perhaps "the boring one". On the rare occasions when a member of my family actually "hears" when I say something funny or witty they look at me like I have suddenly explained the physics of a black hole or sung an aria in Italian, because I am NOT "the funny one". (Strangely my friends and former coworkers have never had this same perception.) But I digress...
Recently I returned to Australia after living for 12 years in the US. Aside from my mother's death and my father's funeral I have pretty much managed to avoid all family gatherings. Mum and my gay brother used to visit the US and see me pretty often but mum has been dead now three years.
My step-mother is hosting Christmas. The email invitation came out inviting us all. Everyone's name was mentioned, in-laws and kids too, except mine but I know that was just an oversight - Freudian maybe, but not deliberate. My son was named though! So this motley crew is assembling at her house on Christmas eve, cause everyone except me has lots of other places to be on the actual day. It will be the first time I have been in the same building as my sister-in-law for over 19 years, the first time I have seen my niece and two nephews in at least 10 years, the first time I have seen my straight brother since my dad died 21/2 years ago, and I think it will be the first time we have ever ALL been in the same place.
None of these people have any idea how much FMS is bothering me, even my son doesn't really know, cause I always push so much harder when he is around, I always want him to see the best of me. I don't think either of my brothers even knows I have fibro, though I know I have told them somehow I don't think they really heard me. To be honest I don't think anyone in my family ever hears me. Except to chastise me for my failures, to dictate to me with advice that is not open to discussion, or to patronize me with superficial interaction I don't think they are interested in me at all. I am superfluous.
If I wandered off and none of them ever heard from me again would anyone give a shit? Would anyone look for me if I were kidnapped or wandering lost with amnesia? Would anyone visit me if I was sick in hospital? Aside from my son, the answer is no. I have not fostered or built these relationships, I carry the lions share of the blame, I have created my own irrelevancy. My mother was the glue that bound my brothers and I together, she was so happy when she was dying to see the three of us together getting along, but after she died we just went back to our corners of the world.
I feel unloved and unlovable and I don't know how I will endure this gathering and yet I could never bring myself to not go. I could not deprive myself of even this twisted a gathering of magnified dysfunction. Is it like playing with a sore tooth? Am I drawn to poke at this bruise that exists where family should be? Or is it like most things a mixture of good and bad, happy and sad, healthy and sick, understood and misunderstood, happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain, love and hate...
I guess I will know more on Christmas Day when it is all over and I am sitting alone the same way I am now...
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
I am my mind
I'm scared shitless.
The things going on with my body are (at times) inconvenient, unpleasant, depressing, annoying and disabling... they are not terrifying though. I am not my ability to move fast or my ability to contort into pretzel -like positions, I'm not my ability to sit still or to walk long distances, I'm not my balance or my tactile sensitivity (well maybe I am that a bit) or the strength of my grip, I'm not my energy level (though I do mourn that one). Experiencing significant degeneration in these areas doesn't alter the core of 'me' it just makes everything harder.
For the past two years I have abjectly refused to even consider that I might have any kind of cognitive problems caused by Fibromyalgia. There is a symptom colloquially known as "Fibro Fog" which is present for many FMS diagnosed people. It manifests as forgetfulness, aphasia (the inability to remember words or communicate effectively), and a general inability to recall the things you are trying to recall. I have often made the point that experiencing constant pain creates a level of distraction that increases forgetfulness, as does stress, and I have blamed any deficit in myself on these factors.
Last night I could not remember a song that I have known all my life... I don't mean I couldn't remember the lyrics - I couldn't remember it at all, I had an aching annoying sensation of having it be on the tip of my tongue but out of reach. I remembered where and when I had sung it on stage. I knew when it was played at sporting events. I knew it was stirring. I knew everyone knows it... everyone but me. This morning I attempted to remember it again and came up with another similar song... for a little while I thought I had solved the mystery but it didn't exactly feel right. As the feeling of "not rightness" grew I googled surrounding subjects and found it listed in Wikipedia. Land of Hope and Glory... not Rule Britiannia (this morning's effort) nor God Save The Queen which was all I could think of last night. I know everyone has things like this happen to them sometimes, the more stress the worse my recall has been for the last 10 years, but I am beginning to think that this is happening more often than it should. I walk to the kitchen to get the phone and a plastic bag and return with a plastic bag and the vague feeling of failure. I write these blogs and reach a point where i am searching for a word and it doesn't want to come... the other day I could not remember the word "ancillary" for some reason my mind kept suggesting "incendiary" and I KNEW that was wrong. Roget was needed to save me from that one. Yesterday I kept thinking the gallows were called a galley... When in my adult life have I ever done this???? Anyone who knows me knows that I ALWAYS have the right word on the tip of my tongue. I'm a walking thesaurus for Pete's sake!
I'm frightened that other aspects of my intelligence might be affected too (though I have not noticed my processing slowing down I think) - what if I don't have the gifts that earned me a slew of High Distinctions last time I was a student?
But I am just totally frightened, scared shitless and witless because I am not my body but I AM my vocabulary. I AM my quick incisive wit. I AM my mind!
The things going on with my body are (at times) inconvenient, unpleasant, depressing, annoying and disabling... they are not terrifying though. I am not my ability to move fast or my ability to contort into pretzel -like positions, I'm not my ability to sit still or to walk long distances, I'm not my balance or my tactile sensitivity (well maybe I am that a bit) or the strength of my grip, I'm not my energy level (though I do mourn that one). Experiencing significant degeneration in these areas doesn't alter the core of 'me' it just makes everything harder.
For the past two years I have abjectly refused to even consider that I might have any kind of cognitive problems caused by Fibromyalgia. There is a symptom colloquially known as "Fibro Fog" which is present for many FMS diagnosed people. It manifests as forgetfulness, aphasia (the inability to remember words or communicate effectively), and a general inability to recall the things you are trying to recall. I have often made the point that experiencing constant pain creates a level of distraction that increases forgetfulness, as does stress, and I have blamed any deficit in myself on these factors.
Last night I could not remember a song that I have known all my life... I don't mean I couldn't remember the lyrics - I couldn't remember it at all, I had an aching annoying sensation of having it be on the tip of my tongue but out of reach. I remembered where and when I had sung it on stage. I knew when it was played at sporting events. I knew it was stirring. I knew everyone knows it... everyone but me. This morning I attempted to remember it again and came up with another similar song... for a little while I thought I had solved the mystery but it didn't exactly feel right. As the feeling of "not rightness" grew I googled surrounding subjects and found it listed in Wikipedia. Land of Hope and Glory... not Rule Britiannia (this morning's effort) nor God Save The Queen which was all I could think of last night. I know everyone has things like this happen to them sometimes, the more stress the worse my recall has been for the last 10 years, but I am beginning to think that this is happening more often than it should. I walk to the kitchen to get the phone and a plastic bag and return with a plastic bag and the vague feeling of failure. I write these blogs and reach a point where i am searching for a word and it doesn't want to come... the other day I could not remember the word "ancillary" for some reason my mind kept suggesting "incendiary" and I KNEW that was wrong. Roget was needed to save me from that one. Yesterday I kept thinking the gallows were called a galley... When in my adult life have I ever done this???? Anyone who knows me knows that I ALWAYS have the right word on the tip of my tongue. I'm a walking thesaurus for Pete's sake!
I'm frightened that other aspects of my intelligence might be affected too (though I have not noticed my processing slowing down I think) - what if I don't have the gifts that earned me a slew of High Distinctions last time I was a student?
But I am just totally frightened, scared shitless and witless because I am not my body but I AM my vocabulary. I AM my quick incisive wit. I AM my mind!
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