A Week Outside the Bubble

 

Life looks nice in a glass bubble. From the outside, anyway. I don't live there.

It's been a strange week. Woke up on Saturday and couldn't walk. Inflamed bursa in my leg. The pain was terrible. I forgot I can't wear flat shoes or go barefoot. 

Plantar fascitis means I need to wear heels. I love heels. But not to wash dishes or vacuum. And I don't own any real pearls. 

That is going to go over the head of anyone who didn't watch 50s television. Think Leave It To Beaver's mom.

Today is Friday. I've been to the pain doctor, and he's sending me to physical therapy because we both believe that fewer drugs are better. Today I have my annual torture session at the Breast Center. It makes me a better person. At least I tell myself it does. On the 30th, I see PT. 

I'm alternating between depression and a weird happiness. No idea, so please don't ask me to explain. I know where the depression is coming from. The weird happiness, too. I'd like to reconcile them so I only feel one a day. Or maybe just one and not depression. Weird happiness isn't bad. It just isn't genuine happiness in the sense that you feel secure. It's very shaky. Like skates. I don't skate well. So, yeah, that's what it feels like. 

No holiday decorations, but I've reconsidered it a bit. A wave of immense guilt washed over me when my son asked me to fix a ham, remembering I no longer celebrate Christmas at all. Well, he's been away from home for the holidays for years. Now he wants a ham? 

Don't get me wrong. I celebrate the birth of Jesus. I don't need trappings to do that. They're nice. I love them. I enjoyed decorating. But decorating an empty house is not weirdly happy. It's utterly depressing. So, since I'm already battling that beast, I won't feed it. 

Writing? Yeah, that's been going full blast. Only this week, I've kind of hit a bump. The leg pain means sitting for lengthy periods is pretty uncomfortable. I usually can't walk for several minutes without pain. Also, wearing heels leads to foot pain in the metatarsal area. Heels are not for daily wear, although I did it when I worked. I don't know how! Regardless of that; I have to wear a shoe with at least an inch and a half heel if I want the pain to lessen. 

So, 66,612 words for November and December is a lot of writing. I began on the 12 of November, and that's the count as of today. And I still seem to have a lot of it left. It's so odd because I haven't done this much writing in years. Not in one book. Weirdly productive? Maybe. Hope it last till I get it done because the storyline has now made it impossible not to have a book 2! I do not know how that happened. 

I'll wish you a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year. 

May the dreams you dream come true and the wishes you wish do too.

CM

Escape

I said in a post I wouldn't write many more posts about grief, but I must have lied. Or maybe I anticipated. There's that. 

Crawling out of a grave sounds like a good thing. Overall, I think it is. But you don't know what you're crawling toward. And that darkness — it follows you.

Something happens when you try and get out of a grave. It's the stuff of horror movies, actually. Things have wrapped around you, grown over you, tangled in your hair and limbs. 

It's a terrifying endeavor. 

You can get out, but the struggle reaches a point you question whether you actually want to get out, or whether it's safer and warmer, and easier just to give up. But it's so horribly dark. 

Last night I shared with a friend a scripture that I carried with me for years after Jerry died. It was the only thing that seemed to anchor me. On my worst days I'd find that scripture and read it over and over. Lamentations 3:21-24. You'll probably be familiar with it. Hopeful, if not helpful. It is a verse of comfort in a dark place. 

Later, when I was going to bed, I remembered something. I used to read the whole chapter. I had a vague idea of the contents. Jeremiah is in a dungeon. Last night I tried to read it again. 

It is not a chapter to read in dark places. It is a chapter to tell you someone else has been in that place. That someone else probably understands. Once you read it, when you read it, and you will, you may relive the darkest moments in your life. But for a minute you won't be alone there.  

I cried all the way through that chapter last night. And many nights before. I think that will happen every time I read it in the future. Because once you've been in dark places, it follows you. You'll always wear the marks of the battle to crawl out and it will always follow you. 

That's when you read Lamentations 3. 

In the last few weeks, I attempted to step out of the dark. The light was blinding. And the pain of crawling out is excruciating. There is a point where I had to decide to leave parts of myself there, in that box. My God, it hurts. Never would I have imagined how painful it is to leave a grave, not once but twice. 

The first thing you notice is you can't breathe. You're chest is tight. You're throat closes, and your nose gets stopped up. Then things start to hurt. First it's just that tight chest but then you have pain across your back and neck. Vision is a challenge. You head hurts. 

It's a kind of dying.

It is the Lord's mercies ... it doesn't feel merciful. It is painful. But you keep crawling. 

We are not consumed. But it feels as if you are. The box has devoured you. It isn't locked but it saps all your strength. It is easier to just rest. 

But it isn't rest. It's death.

I'm not writing this to make you feel better or to make me feel better. I'm writing it to tell you that staying there is death. Crawling out feels like death. They're not the same. 

I went to bed in tears. Again. 

Don't assume there is anything to crawl toward. I woke up this morning to a kind of goodbye text. I cried again. 

It's sun up. I can't see. But I know it's up there. 

I'll just hope in Him.

New Update on What's Happening In My World

I've had two people in the hospital. My son Mike was in for a week after a stroke. Then, a few days after he came home, my sister went into the hospital with a severely infected foot. They've saved it, but we don't know for how long. She's a bad diabetic and had a hole in her foot where a bone was working its way out. They took out the bone and the one next to it, and according to the doctor, will work its way out as well. Tomorrow they will go back in to check the foot and see how well its healing and if they have the infection under control. 

This week, Mike and I put his apartment back in order after I had it cleaned while he was in the hospital. He is going home to his place tomorrow. The doctors said he has to be monitored yearly for problems in his brain with blood flow and veins. 

I'm exhausted, y'all, tireder than I've ever been. And I'm better than I was a week ago. I thought one day I was just going to pass out because I had dizzy spells for a couple of days. My driving was horrible,and twice I had a couple of near misses. I couldn't stop because there was no help. No friends, no family. I've never lived in a place where there was no one to call for help and comfort. 

There are a couple of other issues that we're concerned about that I won't share. We've decided how to handle these, but it's still depressing. We've reached the end of our strength and tolerance. 

One thing I've learned during all of this, you find out who you can turn to in troubles. I've been praying about an issue for months now, and this weekend, the answer brazenly presented itself. It isn't what I wanted, but helped me make the decision. 

Don't become reliant on people or institutions. They'll never be there when you need them. I don't care what rewards you're promised. Only God never fails. He always answers. His schedule is never too full. 

Disobedience

 So, I just got done cleaning the garage! I could barely walk for over a week. I've had severe pain in every major joint and my hands. This pain wasn't caused by my fibro, because my OTC medication for it works well. 

No, the doctors removing my anti-inflammatory medication, Lodine caused this. They decided I could go to pain management. You know, narcotic painkillers. Not happening. I've been dealing with the results of that since February and it had become almost impossible to take the trash to the street. And God forbid I should have to get on the floor. It has been so depressing and stressful to not be able to do anything constructive. I've sat in the chair watching videos and reading when I could focus. 

Monday evening, I had to get on the floor to get something behind the computer. Y'all, I thought I was going to have to call someone for help. I could not get up. My knees were in so much pain and I couldn't lift myself. And I'm not the svelte 130 I was when I came to Evansville. I stayed on my knees and wondered who I could call. I remembered David is in town now and was off that day. So I considered calling him to come help me. 

Do you know how humiliating it is to have to call someone to help you off the floor? Can you even imagine how frustrating it is not to be able to just stand up? I decided that I could do it. 

I grabbed the desk chair and positioned my body in the seat, and got my feet under me. And that sounds much easier than it actually was at that time. Let me just say my knees were extremely unhappy with that decision. I managed to get up and had to immediately sit down in said chair. And yesterday, they paid me back in spades. Hips and knees united in a front to fell me with a swoop. I was in so much pain. I woke this morning in only moderately less pain.

So, how could I clean the garage today? 

I broke the unspoken rule that says do what the doctor says. I took an OTC naproxen. It is half the dose of my prescription. Within one hour, ALL my pain had abated to a one. Knees work fine. Feet don't hurt. Hands are not swollen and stiff. Shoulder doesn't hurt. Neck doesn't hurt. 

Yeah, I'm pretty annoyed, but there is nothing I can do about the doctor's orders. I just don't have to follow them. Their reasoning was "too much risk". I've been on it for 20 yrs. And two other meds I take have life-threatening risks. They have to monitor my eyes because of one of them. It can cause permanent blindness. 

I'm just thankful I feel better this afternoon. My morning looked bleak until I took that pill. 

Try To Remember... September

 My senior check-up today went well. I could remember the three words and set a clock. I told them they should ask me about the calendar instead, since half the time I don't know what day it is. My doctor, who is probably half my age, said she can't either. 

The doctor I see is lovely. She doesn't berate me about my "herbal" experiments or refusal to take certain medicines or shots. They gave me a pneumonia shot, but I refused the flu shot. I told her the only time I ever got a flu shot was in 1999 and it made me terribly sick. I haven't had one since. She said, "I saw that."

I've lost 10 lbs in the last month. It is probably because I've cut most of my carbs and I've eliminated one meal a day. I also have been taking B1 for three months now and it has had a huge effect on my sugar cravings. So, we'll see how this goes.

The effect on my fibro is nothing sort of miraculous. Brain fog disappeared and my pain from fibro has dropped very low. I still have RA and fibro, but most of the fibro symptoms are barely noticeable. The only thing I still notice is fatigue. It has lessened but not disappeared. 

I have started back at the gym but I'm not doing weights for a bit. My arm is doing well, but they've said to wait because of the pain I've been having in the arm. 

I've been trying to get myself organized. Again. I've been making lists of things I need to do the next day. Then, as I do it, I mark it off. This may sound fairly normal to you, but for me it isn't. I'm definitely not a list person. 

For weeks, I've had problems with depression and a sense of despair. Auto-immune diseases do that to you. But so does the news. No one wants to hear about your problems, so you have to keep it bottled up. Again, not a good idea. So, I spent an afternoon ranting to God. He's much nicer than people. He listens, doesn't smite me, and once I'm finished, he helps me see much clearer. I had a short piece of writing that day that came to me and was surprised it helped me. For some reason, the contents helped me. I'll share it on Rendered Praise soon. Maybe someone else needs it.

After my meltdown, I realized the people who fail you are often the most surprising. People say things you never dream they'd say. It's painful when it happens, but it reminded me that what a person says in those moments tells you more about who they really are than the face you often see. Those unguarded moments, reveals the person behind the mask. 

For a day, I hung clothes on the line. I planned to hang more, but by the time I got to the next load, it was getting dark and I don't actually like hanging clothes in the dark. I don't get scared, but having my back to the dark part of the yard is uncomfortable. Having my back to open doors is too, but in the dark, that's worse. 

Last weekend I priced wall panels for the half bath. Bead board panels. That bathroom is so small I can't do a lot of crazy stuff. The wall is so damaged after having contact paper on it, that I either have to rip it out or find something to go over it. Panels are the easiest and bead board, I think will look nice in a small space. To make it feel less closed in, I plan to hang a picture of a window with an exterior view on one wall. A smaller sink will also give me more space. I mean, all we do in there is wash hands and brush teeth. I'm not washing my hair or doing laundry. 

So, that's my September. 

A Level Field: For Now

Today was an average day. Pain levels were down, except my knees. Depression lessened. No agitation or frustration to speak of. I wasn't ecstatic, but I wasn't mad either. Like I said, an average day. 

We went to church, getting there about 15 minutes late. I don't know why; I think I was trying to get a jacket that wasn't covered in cat hair. Or maybe I took too long on my teeth. Whatever, we got there.

Service was good. Teaching/Preaching was good. Worship service was good. My neighbors were friendly, and the babies were adorable. (There are about three new babies around me.)

I tried to write the last couple of days but I keep getting so sleepy. It's very frustrating when that happens. I can't stop it or correct it because I do not know what is causing it. So, I just walk away. And lie down.

And of course, at this point in the writing, everything sucks. I don't know why that happens either. For a week, I thought it was great. Today I don't want to look at it, let alone read that drivel.  

Tonight, I watched funny videos and shared them on Facebook. I laughed so much but I feel better. 

Jet is sitting next to me on my desk, in the bed I put there for him. When he gets in it, he's much less annoying. I try to remember to pet him now and then, so he gets the attention he craves. At the moment, he's making biscuits. He only does that in this bed. Very weird.

The house is colder because I'm keeping my heat down lower. The utility bills are simply insane here and they want to increase them. I don't know how they think people will keep the power on. My utilities are now about what my house payment is. I feel for folks who are paying more for their house and have even larger bills. 

I'm getting ready to go to bed for the night. I may shut the cats out. They keep waking me up early and I'm not resting well. They seem to think they can't finish their breakfast without me in the kitchen. Jet has begun messing with my water container, which has a lid on it. He knocked over the lamp when I swatted at him about the water. It is a glass lamp, but he didn't break it. I was still angry with him because it was 7:30 and I didn't want to get up. So, I'll probably lock them out tonight. I really hate to do that to them.

Oh yeah, we had snow this weekend. I got up on Saturday morning and opened the kitchen curtains and was shocked to see several inches of snow. As of today, the snow was gone. We may get more in a few days, but for it to stick around, the ground has to freeze. 

I still haven't finished my handbag project! Will work tomorrow on it. I hope.

For now, I'll get off here and turn in for the night. I hope 

End of November!

I guess we all know there are only 31 days left in 2020. November delivered a snow shower at a parting gift. 

I really think there should be a global celebration of good riddance. It has to be the worst year in the world's history, except for the years when the Black Plague was active 1347 & 1750 {est. deaths: 75,000,000 - 200,000,000}. I'm pretty sure things were worse. 

Whatever, I'm glad this year is ending. I don't have hope of a better year. We've seen the levels people will sink to in order to make the world a horrible place, and we've watched elected officials show their true colors. We've seen former humans act worse than the lowest snake, sub-humans. Burning cities, destroying businesses of people who worked hard to build them, willing to kill people for no reason.  We've seen corruption sweep through the electoral process and 50% of the public is just fine with it, as long as they get their pick. If it is someone else, they'll then become concerned citizens. Right now they're sycophants hoping for handouts. 

Thanksgiving didn't start well. It never does. But my son and his family drove in for the weekend, and it was truly wonderful to see them. His last marriage was a joke, and he could never come home for a visit because she was too good to come here. And I wasn't welcome at their house. Looks like he's married a much nicer lady this time. She did all the cooking! It was so nice to feel like I didn't have to impress anyone and that they were glad to be here.

I also got to see Sarah and spend time with her this weekend. That was a wonderful treat. I am so happy when I can spend time with her. She makes me laugh and feel more like myself. She always has done. After Jerry died, she was all that saved me. 

Mike and I are nearly through the COVID-19, I hope. We're still coughing and battling fatigue. That's the worst part to me. Wash dishes, rest. Change sheets rest longer. Sweep a floor, rest. Takes forever to get things finished and before I am, it is time to start over. For a while, I was sleeping 10-20 hrs a day, part of that in 2-4 hr naps. Mike was doing something similar at his house. I'm taking fewer naps. Upward!

I've felt better today. I think having my family visit and the improvement of symptoms are responsible for that. Now if I can just go back to church! I'm staying away as long as this cough persists. I'm not contagious, but I know it is disturbing to some folks. I'll wear a mask to make sure people feel safe. It doesn't work, but if they feel like it does, that saves me the trouble of arguing.

I start December hoping I can accomplish some things here at the house that halted with the Covid invasion back in March. You couldn't get things you needed and then we got sick. So, maybe we can do a few things. The garage is colder than a well, so it won't be fun having to use the saw, but needs must.

 

For now, I'm heading for a hot shower. I hope your November ends happily and December begins with joy and continues.

A Cold, Wet, Dark Street

Cold, wet, and dark, well, except for the security light above my head. As I pulled my collar up around my neck, I realized I should have brought a heavier jacket.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the dark, rattling the door behind me, and the rain increased. A sudden gust pushed the drops horizontal, slapping me in the face, and I swiped at it with the back of my hand.  

The street beyond the wide sidewalk was void of traffic and I watched debris rush along the gutter, carried on swift currents, toward the drain somewhere in the dark. The waiting vortex would suck it down, into a cold spiral to a subterranean pool and from there to wherever useless things go. I suppose the ocean eventually. Someplace exotic? A fish's belly? A subduction zone, crushed and roiled into a mix of molten rock? 

Thunder exploded with a blinding flash that blew out the sensor on the light and cast me in to utter darkness. The rain became a deluge. I stepped back toward the doorway, trying to shelter against the building. The light struggled back to life after a few moments. Once restored, the glaring light made it nearly impossible to see beyond its circle. I felt trapped by it, like some bug in a glass. 

Yeah, that's what it felt like. Someone had dropped me in a glass and put a light over it. Where it was warm and dry and light reigned. They were probably sitting in a chair with a cup of coffee, feet on the desk, watching me in my damp, dark test tube. 

I sighed. Too much imagination. 

We measure our life by our success, and if we do not perceive any, we deem ourselves a failure. But perception can be flawed. Only we won't realize that until, well, until we're standing in a cold rain on a dark street, drowning. 

I'd sort of considered myself a failure at many things, but not the things that mattered. A job well done, a happy family. They were marks of success, right? I didn't have any plaques. Just a lot of photos that showed smiling success. But photos are an imperfect view of success. They're what you see at the moment. And sometimes the smiles aren't real.

The wedding photos, filled with lots of laughing, smiling people, were a prime example. Everyone there had a secret pain. A failure. Or would have before the day was out, before the week was out, before the month... you get it. 

Why is disappointment a requirement to everything? Do we really expect so much of ourselves that even a slight bump of it totally derails us? Or is it that we expect so much from our successes, more than they can deliver? And when they don't, we blame ourselves.

A streak of lightening flashed across the sky, turning the street an inky black moments later. I closed my eyes. It felt safer than that dark street. I blew out a deep sigh and opened them. The light over my head flashed and came back on. I wonder why closing my eyes felt safer. 

I sighed. Too much imagination. 

Stepping away from the wall, I stuck my collapsed umbrella out and popped up the canopy and raised the cover of bright cherry blossoms over my head, cutting off the downpour. The street seemed to lighten as the umbrella dimmed the glare from the security light. I turned and started my walk back to the real world at the end of the street. I could see the lights, cars dashing back and forth, people crossing the end of the street, not turning down this long dark one. The sounds of horns were faint but grew louder as I approached the intersection. 

Didn't seem to matter much now if I was a success or failure. I was the only one who knew the truth. Others might surmise but smiles hide many things. If you looked happy, people believed you were. If you looked successful, people believed you were. You had to walk down cold, wet, dark streets to know for sure. Most people never make that trip. They don't want to know. I was a rebel, I suppose. My laughter echoed against the buildings, a laughing audience mocking me. Well, them's the breaks. 

I stepped from the dark alley, onto the brighly lit sidewalk of the boulevard, the lights reflecting around me from the rain like a pagent catwalk, as if someone wanted to make me feel special. Maybe I was. I smiled.

Echos

This will be my 10th Christmas without Jerry. It is still painful to look at his photo and realize he's not coming home. No, I'm not over it. It is unlikely I'll ever be over it. No, I don't have a boyfriend and I haven't remarried. I can't even imagine that. That man in the photo is what I see if I even consider meeting someone else.

Ten years. So long to be away from someone you shared your whole life with. I met and married him when I was 17 and he died when I was 52. A whole life.

You know, he wasn't perfect, and he made me furious at times. But he was so very good to me. I always felt like I mattered, that someone loved me and cared about me. There would always be someone to catch me if I fell and set me back on my feet. If the car broke down, I knew who to call. There was always someone to help with the heavy lifting.

Oh, but that's not the worst of it. There were things to do and new places to go and he'd be there with me. We shared memories and even fears. At least, I did. He never wanted to worry me. I hate that because that's what makes the marriage. You both have to share the bad along with the good. He wanted nothing to darken my days.

How much he'd suffer if he knew how dark my life became with his leaving. Sarah was the only light I had to light my way.

This year, that light is gone. For the first time in 13 years, my beautiful Sarah will not be with me for Christmas. She has gone to live with her dad and I will probably never have Christmas with her again unless I live to see her grown. She is far away, and they never come here for Christmas and I've never been there for it.

Sarah was the light that kept me focused and the joy that kept me laughing. So this week has been very hard. There will be no lights, no tree, no presents, no decorations, and no excited laughter. No peaking at packages, no Christmas stories, no special meals. It will be just another dark day in an empty house filled with the echos.

The old year is dying and day by day I do too. I haven't been sorry to see a year end in 10 years. I will not care this year either. I do not look forward to a new one. Why should I?

Down in the Dumps Day

It's Wednesday. I'm feeling better physically, except I am really tired because I'm still having problems with the Bipap machine. The truth is, I'm depressed today and I don't even know why. I should not be depressed because I feel better. I am rather scared to admit it but even the nerve pain in my left arm is not as bad today. So feeling depressed seems foolish.

It's probably the lack of sleep or proper sleep that's causing this. I don't know what else I can do about it. I used a new mask last night and it did not help. I guess I just keep trying.

I am supposed to see my new primary care today. I don't think that would make me depressed but one never knows. I'm hoping it works out better than the one I've been using. She's a very nice doctor but I just think she's too inexperienced and I have some pretty severe problems. I really wish I could find another Dr. Like Dr. Beckman. The guy I see today is actually a fairly good doctor. I have used him years ago. I'm just really tired of having to find doctors that don't treat me like I'm an idiot. Of course, things have changed, and he may treat me that way, too.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. I've been sitting here all morning feeling down and too tired to do anything. I don't think writing this will help me feel better and I really don't know what will. Sarah has been with her other grandparents this week and I am really missing her. Maybe that's why I'm depressed. When she's here, she's a lot of work but it is work I enjoy and her company keeps me from thinking too much about things that actually do depress me.

At any rate, I'll stop this here. I have nothing else to say and there's no point in going on and on about how rotten I feel today.

Surprise!

Yep, I'm back. Been a while, hasn't it? Over a month, in fact. I wish I could say I'd been doing something constructive but I haven't. I did go on vacation to Branson, MO two weeks ago with my aunt, uncle, and sister. We had a great time. I only had a couple of days where pain was a problem. Fortunately, the resort had a hot tub I could use for a bit and it helped. I also remembered to bring medicine to help with the pain. So, my trip was not bad at all.

Once I got home, of course, things took a turn. I worked a couple of days and my pain escalated. Had four days of lower back pain and sciatica. I think the sitting for hours aggravated it.  And because it hurt so bad, I had to sit even more. There were a lot of storm fronts moving around but despite that, only the back gave me real trouble.

This week has been better but I go back to work on Wednesday and I'm going to be there for half a day. I'm concerned that I'll have another flare up with my back. We'll see. Sitting is hard on your back.

Tomorrow I will start painting my bedroom. Mike came and helped me move the furniture out on Saturday and I've spent the last two days deciding on the color. I'm not totally happy with my choice but I'm going to live with it. I will start painting in the morning. I've got the windows taped and may do that first as they are the most tedious. I have to sand the wall where I've patched 20 years of holes. I must have moved pictures around a lot. I couldn't believe the number of holes. I still have a few to patch but I simply was too tired to bother with those high up. The downside is it takes hours for the spackle to dry. It may interfere with my painting.

Writing has not been happening. The back was so bad I couldn't even read. I simply sat in the recliner, not good for bad backs either, by the way, and watched Peyton Place on YouTube. I couldn't believe I found that! And it was actually pretty good. I've gotten bored with it this week but it sure took me back to my childhood. I watched it with my Mama. I wasn't even 10 yrs old when it went off the air. I felt like I was with old friends. Since I have very few friends, it was a nice feeling.

My youngest sister is in the hospital this week. She's going through some bad times right now. If you pray, please say a prayer for her. It looks like they're going to keep her for more than a week.

That's it I think. I wanted to write for a bit to see if I still could. This blog seems to be gradually fading away. I seem to be here less and less. Although I don't have a ton of readers anyway, it has been a great form of therapy for me. I'd be in a loony bin after Jerry died if I couldn't have written down what I was going through. Maybe I did. I still wonder sometimes. My life was turned upside down and poured out into some great black hole and I've never really escaped. Maybe, in reality, I'm in an asylum and all that has happened since is in my head.

Did I mention I've been a bit depressed? I think it is just because after my trip I had to come back here, to this empty house. Sarah is away for the summer with her Dad. She's having a blast. I can see in the photos she is enjoying herself. I'm happy for her.

And that's enough of that.

Tomorrow comes early. Of course, it will take me two hours to catch up.

More Wasted Days

I had about two good days after I saw my doctor and it has been mostly downhill since. I'm so tired and today I've had a headache all day. I am taking my second Imitrex now and hope that will get rid of it. I came home as tired as if I'd worked for two days with no break. The only bright spot is I may have defeated the sinus infection.

I don't know when it became such a chore just to put one foot in front of the other. I can't remember. I don't want to do anything. Even sleep is not good. I wake up as tired as I was when I went to bed. I'm tired of it. I just want to sit down and never have to get up again.

I go back to the doctor the last week of the month. I'm supposed to go on vacation beginning the 18th. I don't know if I will be able to go anywhere. I can't see sitting in the car for 12 hours feeling like this. It just isn't worth it.

Days pass and I don't know what I've done. I don't accomplish anything. I've been working on a shawl for two weeks. Last night I had to pull out five rows of work. I only had about 4 rows left but I did something wrong and didn't realize it until I reached a place that simply did work right. I had to back track visually and figure out what went wrong, rip it out and now I'm working on putting it back right. Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal but it is now. I don't have time to waste repeating work. What brief moments I have of clarity and strength I have to use for what must be done. I can't waste time on hobbies.

I looked at the yard and found a whole section that wasn't cut. So, now people want to cut the yard but only what they don't have to get off the mower to cut. I'll have to be the one pushing the old mower and using the weed trimmer for the places the rider doesn't reach, I suppose? This is ridiculous. Where did the real men of the world go and how did I end up with a bunch wimps? I'm embarrassed to say these people are related to me. I refuse to call them men. I've had nothing but trouble over the yard for years. They are the laziest human beings I've ever seen.

Enough whine. Another waste of time.

Wanted: A Mountain Cabin & Two Bad Dogs

The vampires have been sated. They took about five vials of blood. I followed doctor's instruction and simply got up, dressed, and went. I hurt everywhere. It is astounding because I have not hurt this much in years. But I've given my blood to find out what is wrong. I hope that is enough sacrifice.

I actually had trouble sleeping. I took my medicine but drinking coffee apparently has a counter effect. Go figure. I wanted coffee. (See below.)

I've spent most of my time off reading and unsubscribing from things. I'm eliminating the excess baggage. It is time to eliminate the things that are counterproductive to my well-being. This morning I've been praying for insight to that end. Maybe everything should go and I should start over with more positive pursuits. After reading up on this adrenal fatigue, there is some hope to correct at least some of the physical problems. Clearing out one's life can be healthy. I always liked it when the Army moved us. I loved starting over with new friends, places to see, and things to do. It was like a second chance every 4 years. That's very liberating. 

I went through a period of wanting to throw away everything after Jerry died. Every three months for a year I did a stem to stern cleaning and hauled out truckloads of junk. I was horrified at the piles. I have photos to prove it. I am feeling that same need now. The junk isn't all material but is junk nonetheless. I'm hoping tomorrow will dawn sunny and warm and there won't be a lot of pain and I can clean some junk out of the house, the material stuff. My problem will be that I'm only good for about 4 hours before I crash and burn and for the rest of the day I may only be fully functional for about three hours total, and not consecutively. 

I looked up Adrenal fatigue. I never heard of it. Thanks to my friend, Nancy, I know a bit about Cushing's Disease but not adrenal fatigue, which is not Cushing's but both are caused by problems with the levels of the adrenal hormone, cortisol. And apparently they both wreak havoc on the body. Here's a list regarding adrenal fatigue I found on a site called Women to Women. They are eerily familiar.

Symptoms and health risk of sustained cortisol levels:

• Lightheadness & salt craving
• Fatigue and weakness
• Suppression of the immune system
• Muscle and bone loss
• Moodiness or depression
• Skin problems
• Hair loss
• Autoimmune disorders
• Insulin resistance
• Thyroid imbalance
• Weight gain
• Insomnia
• Aches and pains from inflammation
• Lower sex drive

Sustained high cortisol levels are dangerous because they:

• Slow down healing and normal cell regeneration.
• Co-opt parent molecules needed to make other vital hormones
• Impair digestion, metabolism and mental function
• Interfere with healthy endocrine function
• Weaken your immune system

There are apparently things I can do. They tell you and basically the same thing my doctor told me is what I have to do. 

• Avoid gluten — a protein that many women with adrenal imbalance may be sensitive to.
• Eat adequate protein at every meal — important for energy and stamina.
• Eat within an hour of waking — helps restore healthy blood sugar levels.
• Eat healthy fats.
• Eliminate all "white" food – refined sugar, flour, and grains, at least temporarily.

Now, I just have to get the blood work results and see what's really going on. But based on what I've read this is what fits all the problems I am experiencing.

Oh... and I have to avoid all the things I'm dealing with in my life...

Things that make demands on the adrenal glands:

• Lack of sleep
• Work stress
• Personality conflicts
• Yo-yo dieting
• Relationship turmoil
• Reliance on stimulants like caffeine and carbs
• Digestive problems
• Too much exercise
• Illness, infection or surgery
• Unresolved emotional issues
• Overwhelming responsibilities at home

Yeah, that's gonna be easy. I'd get me to a nunnery but I'm not Catholic. But a cabin in the mountains has always had an appeal. I used to tell Jerry that we'd retire to one. There'd be one road in and one road out and a couple of very bad dogs roaming the woods. The image is always in the back of my mind. 

I have to go now. Just had a dizzy spell and feel sick. I've been up since 7 a.m. and it is nearly 11 a.m. now. That's 4 hours. Right on target.

My heartfelt thanks go out to all those praying friends who have responded to my requests for prayer. I've made many this week. Despite all the medical knowledge in the world, I know where the only solution to any problem lies. When I can't help myself, I know He does. 

A Happy Face

I slept really well last night. One little pill and I feel 100% better. I still have pain in my hands. I'm still tired but I don't feel as bad as I obviously did yesterday and for the last month. I'll probably take these for a few more days at least. The sleep is what helps the most and the pill helps with the anxiety. 

I'm in a place where I'm not happy. In fact, I begin to wonder if I've ever been really happy. There is nothing anyone can do about that so don't offer consolation or solutions. You don't know what it takes to make me happy. I don't either. So, it is my problem to solve. 

Happiness, in a general sense, is not found in people. People constantly disappoint you. Or they go away. No one is who they say they are, even though they think they are and will argue with you till the cows come home that "what you see is what you get". It isn't true. Most  of the time, we all are pretending something. So, depending on people to make you happy is self delusion. 

Happiness is not in things. Things get broken and if you rely on them to feel good, you're going to feel bad a lot. At the least, you'll be dissatisfied with something else. 

Happiness is not about where you're located. You can live in a palace and be unhappy. And while I suspect that all of these things can pacify a person, that is not happiness either. That's a drug.

Does anyone actually like people who always seem to be happy, without a care in the world? Don't lie. You know that you don't. I don't either. Because below it all, we know we're being deceived. We don't like that.

Most of us, in my opinion, don't really know what happiness is or how to get there. Yet, I've learned one interesting thing. Your physical condition does impact real happiness. I don't care what anyone says about people who are stoic in the face of critical illness and how some of them are happy despite being terminal. That's a bunch of poppycock. They aren't happy. They just recognize they can't fix it. They make the best of a bad situation. Pardon me if I cry because I'm sick. I'm not happy about it and I refuse to expect people who are suffering to act happy. I expect them to act civil, not overjoyed at their state of being. I forgive the grumpy old man who is hooked up to oxygen and will never leave his wheelchair again. He has reason to be grumpy. I forgive that and try to make him smile. It isn't happiness he feels and I can't give him that. I can give him a moment's relief from having to pretend.

Here's a quandary.  I'm a Christian and there is this warped idea out there among my brothers and sisters in Christ that no matter what the situation we are supposed to be overjoyed all the time to just be Christians. Our problems are not supposed to get us down and if they do we somehow embarrass God! I have no idea where anyone got this concept. It is not scriptural to me. Maybe someone took something Paul said and made it fit but I've read the Bible, several times, in several orders. I don't see it. 

Let me tell you misguided folks something you seem to ignore. When Jesus carried that cross, he was not dancing up the road to tune of "Singing in the Rain". He was dragging that thing behind him on a back filled with open, bloody gashes that exposed the bones. And when they nailed him to the cross on that hillside, he was not singing "The Hills are Alive". He was in agony and he showed it. He was in pain. He was suffering. He cried. He did not smile at the crowd and say, "It's ok, folks. I'll be fine." He even asked, "My God why have you forsaken me!" Does any of that sound familiar to anyone but me?

So, if I hurt and seem to moan about it and sob and cry...I'm in good company. I'm not happy about my condition, my position, or my location, I'm just thankful God has forgiven me for my failures.

I don't know where this post came from but I think sometimes I moan and groan too much and I feel bad about it. I dislike not being "happy" in a recognizable way. I get embarrassed that my blog contains so much grief, disappointment, and pain. But I realize that is what this societal conception of happiness has done to people. It has made us feel ashamed when we suffer. It tells us that we must greet pain with a smile. We must put on a "happy" face that says, "Don't mind me while I'm bleeding here. Just carry on with the party."

It is just a facade, a word that means a false face. You know it better by its more common name. A lie.

A Patch

I've reached my limit. I've had a horrible month. I anticipate this time of year being difficult for me but I expected more around the first of the year, the anniversary of Jerry's death. I was so busy it slipped by unnoticed for a week or more. So, I guess it just caught up with me.

Instead, in the last two months, I've simply been on the slippery slope where I was physically ill with a variety of things. In February, I had a rash on my ankles and legs that I have no idea what caused it but that cost me several nights sleep and a trip to the urgent care. I had pain in all major joints, was unable to walk without limping for days, was not sleeping well, even with medicine. I had increased ringing in my ears, more lost sleep, coughing, sneezing, and now, pain in my hands.

 I've been struggling with pain in my hands the last couple of days that was so bad I was having trouble working. I do tons of data entry. I write. My hands are my living. And they were in bad shape. Tonight, they are better. I asked people to pray for me and I started putting some medicine I use on other major joints on my hand. I still have pain but not nearly as bad. I am hoping by tomorrow that the pain will be gone.

And then there has been the last three weeks of overwhelming exhaustion that had me barely able to get through a day at work without falling out. Some days I had to simply find some place and put my had down because I was so tired I couldn't hold it up. By the time I dragged myself home I was in tears because I was so tired I couldn't bear it. It is a tired that you can't begin to imagine. No, you can't. I can't imagine it either. And when I lay down I could not rest. Things hurt.

The sheer volume of what I'm dealing with has become unbearable. I simply can't take it anymore. The proverbial brick wall lies in shambles from the impact. And when my mind starts reasoning that what I'm doing is not living, but dying slowly, in pieces, then I know I'm in a bad place. It is a road I've traveled several times and it ends on a ledge overlooking a bottomless pit. You're too tied to do more than stare down into it and think about how very easily it would be to just close your eyes and lean over and let go. It isn't going to get better.

I came home from work today and took Ativan. They prescribed it for me when Jerry died. I was on it a couple of months. It is amazing stuff but I stopped taking it after a while because it is highly addictive. I have enough problems without an addiction. I've taken them a couple of times since then, for about a week at a stretch. But I still have maybe 25 pills. Tonight I started again. This is the point at which addiction is a very minuscule issue.

No, it isn't a fix. I've decided nothing can be fixed. It's nothing but a patch.

A Tiny Piece of Heaven... Wrapped in a Candy Shell

There has to be a place where you can escape all your problems and still be breathing and above ground. I mean, don't they say "if you can imagine it, you can do it"? So, I can imagine a place like that....

And there has to be enough money to not have to worry about bills or anything. And you're meals will be brought right to your chair on the lanai where you are intently studying the clouds' motions as they move with the sound of the surf. Right?

HEY! I'm a writer! I can make it up.

That's my point. If I can make that up, there has to be a place like that.

I'm depressed. I'm got this ringing in my ears and it is driving me mad, seriously. I'm so tired I could simply lie down right where I stand. Just give me a pillow and a blanket. I suspect they're connected. I don't want to know, so don't tell me. Even if they are there is nothing that can be done, just like everything else I have wrong with me.

I used to look up things to see if I could find out what was wrong and if there was something I could do. I stopped. Knowing became more frightening than not knowing. Now I just want to go away.

I don't know where that place is.  Instead, I'm sitting here eating Peanut M&M's.

That's as close as I can get to heaven right now.

Leave a Message

Every day I receive a Bible verse in my email. Sometimes it doesn't seem to fit anywhere. I read it and think about it for a few moments and then I usually delete it. Sometimes, I leave it in my email all day and will periodically go and read it again. It fits my mood, gives rise to a question, answers a question, or comforts me in some way. I save those until it serves its purpose.

This morning I had this verse in my email.

"Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." Psalm 73:25-26 KJV

I don't know why but this came at a time when I was feeling very alone. I've felt the isolation more this week because I was dealing with physical problems that deprived me of large amounts of sleep. I tend to go into a depression after such episodes.

When you are awake and sick at 4 a.m. and there is no one to call, it is a terrible feeling. It is at moments like this that you realize just how vital human companionship is to each of us. Even the worst companionship is better than none to some. In fact, the worst decisions of your life will be made when you have no one to call.

Of course, I could have called across the hall to my son but he has to be at work by 6:30 and so he wouldn't have been able to help. I'd have only caused a shortage in his sleep. There was no one else. So, at times like this, you just sort of call God. Unfortunately, it is at the worst possible times that he seems to be away from the phone.

I know He's not really gone anywhere but the distance is just so far and the comfort of another voice, a hand to hold, or just someone sitting in the room with you is no little thing. We feel it so much more in times of distress. Humans crave other human contact in times of crisis more than any other time. Suicides rarely kill themselves when they are with someone.

I've had more days of stress in the last four years than I've had in my entire life. Nearly every week for 208 weeks something has hit me with enough force to knock me off my feet. I don't know how many more there are to get through. I only know that doing it alone is much harder than sharing the load. And some days the load crushes me.

So I make the call. I leave a message. This morning I had an email.

Smoke & Mirrors

I'm feeling very down tonight. Coming home to an empty house is hard, even after I've been doing it for so long. I was going to go get Sarah but it isn't David's day and so I have to wait. That's is probably the hardest thing of all, not being able to see her when I want to see her.

I thought today about what I'm going to do with this house and this big yard. I do that once in awhile but the last couple of years it has become a bigger issue. This week I am more serious about it. It is a yard meant for children to run in with dogs. I never look out there that I don't see little blond boys and a brown terrier running all over, giggling and barking echoing against the house. Even Sarah doesn't play there anymore. It is lonely and filled with ghost.

Smoke and mirrors.

I remember when David planted that tree of his out there. It was not as tall as he was at 8. Today, it is a couple of hundred feet high. When we planted it we were planting the future. He was excited and watered it faithfully. Every year we watched it grow taller and taller. We forgot it for a bit and one day we realized it towered over the yard. The tree grew but the future didn't.

Smoke and mirrors.

I often wonder what dreams are actually made of and how they come about.  I've stopped making plans for any kind of future and dreams are for children who don't know any better. The truth is that fairy tales are the result of someones dreams.

Smoke and mirrors.

Perhaps it all sounds melodramatic but I've lived this life. Sometime, maybe I should put up the real story my life instead of the supposed one. Blow the smoke away, break the mirrors. Sometimes I'm sure I sound as if I came from a very normal background. I remember at 12 praying, no, really, for a normal life.

Smoke and mirrors.

Two Mondays a Week

I feel like I'm chasing my tail. If I had a tail. Today is, of course, Tuesday... after Labor Day which, in my view, makes this Monday. It has been Monday all day long. 

My day started off at a run. I'm going on vacation on the 16th and will be out of my office for a week. So, that means I have to really get ahead in my caseload. Since I am already behind by about two weeks, this is not good. I have really hit it hard today, doing about 12 files of data entry. This is actually excellent. Generally, I can get 10 at the most done in a day. So, two more is a good thing. But not enough. I have nearly 20 more.

This is no way to start a week. The last week was fairly rotten in the first place. I was sick and family crises fell like hailstones. To start another week, a new month in fact, even worse is just frustrating. 

It feels as if my life is imploding. That's different from an explosion. It means to collapse inward from external pressures or to break down or fall apart from within. I can't find a much better description. I don't want to go into it here on this blog at this point. Someone pointed out that I'd once again have to go  through a form of grief. I don't want to do that anymore. Ever. I am so stressed at the moment that I can feel it in my chest. No, not actually pain. Just that heaviness you get when things are at their worst and you know you can't fix it. Fear sort of just gnaws at you bit by bit. You get tired.

I am tired. Of a life that seems filled with every dream and hope that I ever held shattered at my feet and then I am forced to walk across the razor sharp shards to some nebulous end. There is not pot of gold. There's not even a rainbow.  There will be those who say I overreact. Maybe I do. You need to walk very quietly from the room. Don't come back until I call you. Don't hold your breath. 

Monday I went to the Urgent care for a bug bite. Silly old thing that I am, I had a mosquito bite on my thumb but then there was some other bite on my leg, above my ankle. It happened in the car. Mike and I were taking Sarah home around five. She'd been to the Labor Day picnic with us but I was tired. I suppose the bug got in when I did. I got stressed because the mosquitoes here are infested with West Nile virus. I'm been so careful going out and taking Sarah out. But I only went from inside the house to inside the car. I shouldn't have to shower in Off. But I got bit.

The one on my thumb looked like a normal mosquito bite. The one on my leg didn't. It didn't get the red raised mound of a normal mosquito bite. It got very red and made a rectangular mark that grew to about the size of the end of my pinky from the join to the tip. It stung, not as bad as a bee sting but sort of like it feels when you stick a hot match to your skin. I had a terrible meltdown. There was no one to really care about it. No one to hold my hand, talk me down to a sane frame of mind. I called a couple of people. They have lives of their own. They moved on. 

Of course no one was as concerned as I. I don't know what I expected. I was terrified. Yeah, I know I nuts. You're late. The mark just got redder and redder and seem to spread over the course two hours. I finally decided to go to the urgent care. I called and ask David to go with me. Jerry would have gone with me if he'd been here. Mike would have gone if I'd called him but he doesn't handle my stress well anymore. Who am I kidding... I don't handle it well anymore. He's just not equipped for it, although he tries valiantly. More so than anyone else. 

Anyway, Dave went with me. I melted down in the car. He actually handled it pretty well. I really  needed Jerry to be there. Really, really, really. I got Dave to drive. I sat in the waiting room two hours and the mark faded away. Once they called me back I felt stupid but I have to say they didn't treat me that way. The were very kind and understanding and the doctor, when I saw him told me he was going to take notes on what had happened and if something changed I was to call. He said there were things they could tell me on the phone to do so I wouldn't have to come back in. I dropped David home and came home alone. 

It is an eternal irony that I don't want to live with people but I do not want to be alone. I am not able to resolve the paradox. 

The State of Happiness

Today is Jerry's birthday. He would have been 63. He could have officially retired. He had so looked forward to it. But at 59 he died. I kept breathing.

Since 2009 I've been through a series of physical, emotional, and mental upheavals that defy description but if you truly want to torture yourself, it's all here in the blog. I lived in a nightmare hell the first year and can't remember huge amounts of time from that year. The second year, I woke up and realized it wasn't a a nightmare at all, it was just hell. The third year I though I was going to be able to crawl out and maybe, just maybe I'd be able to live among other living beings only to fall back into the pit. I am approaching the 4th anniversary and I've begun to question if life after death is even possible. Not my death. His. Is it even possible to push back the darkness and be, if not happy, content?

I've sought to involve myself with people and things and stay busy but honestly, I live in a vacuum where the only time I see or hear from most people in a 50 mile radius is when someone else has a need. Never when I have one. I try to be obliging but the results is I end up running short of energy, time, money, and reciprocation of such. Nearly 4 years later, I still am sitting in my house, alone, in silence and listening to echos. I have no more outside contact that I did the day the last person left after the funeral and the last calls came in. It shocked me to my core then. I don't shock so easily now.

These days, I don't actually think it is possible to be happy.  The people I know personally are miserable. The problem, as near as I can figure, is our concept of happiness is distorted. People seem to think happiness is doing something we enjoy, all the time. Happiness is being in a crowded room with lots of people we like and who like us and having fun, all the time.  Happiness is having the money to buy all we want, all the time.  Happiness is having security, jobs, friends, things. Happiness is stuff. All the time.

You think, when you don't have things, that getting them will fix it. You'll be happy for sure then. I'll get a new house, go to a new school, a new church, move to a new town, meet new people, get a new job. Right. It won't work.

I've got stuff. I'm not happy.

Let me tell you what unhappiness is and maybe that will explain it better. Living without the person who knew everything about me, right down to my birthmark is the most difficult thing I've ever been forced to do. I once said it felt as if I'd had my arm cut off. I was wrong. It is more like having a leg removed at the hip. And they don't sell a prosthetic for it. Someone said "Think about the good times." I don't dare. I can't reclaim them. I can't relive them. And I can't make new ones. I shatter in a billion tiny pieces and have to pick them up. They are made of obsidian glass and flay me.

In all the 35 years of marriage, I distinctly remember being terribly unhappy on many occasions, times when he displeased me and when I displeased him. Of course, we got past them but there were some times that neither of us really got over. We were human after all. We weren't happy all the time and as he grew sicker, we both grew less so. For years, I was so stubborn and demanding. He seldom said no to me and I was cared for and cherished. Right up to the night he dropped dead.

But you know something, right now, this very minute, I would do everything he asked me if he'd just come home and complain about something. I'd be happy! I'd be ecstatic if he stepped into the room and griped about something trivial. If he left the towel wadded on the seat of the toilet, his shorts in the floor, his shoes in the middle of the living room. I would be overjoyed. If he left dirty dishes on the counter.... I'd wash them with a smile. He had a hard time keeping a job the last few years and I didn't know why. He was sick. But today, if he was unemployed and broke and simply wanted to complain about it, I would so listen and put my arms around him and say, "I'm here. We're in this together. It looks bad but we have one another."

The truth is that there is no feeling like being loved, cared for, and made to feel you are the Queen of the Universe or the King. Realistically, it isn't always like that. But knowing it is always there, why, you can live in a hovel and never notice. I've lived in a few! There is nothing that can take the place of looking across the room when you're worried and having someone smile at you. Or lying in the dark staring at the ceiling and having someone squeeze your hand. They don't have to speak. You just know that they just sent you a message. I'm here. We're in this together. It looks bad but we have one another.

Nothing else in the world feels like that.

Jerry, I'd be happy to see you're face smile across the room.