How Do You Do?

Doing: it's what I'm not and haven't been for a long while. I used to, a lot, and I need to again. I've just got to get over this speed bump that looms like a twenty-foot granite wall. I just need a way over. Or around.

I have a sign saying "Action" on my bathroom mirror, per the instructions of my good friend Bob. Most mornings I am now getting at least pretend-dressed (yoga pants and a sweater) before I come downstairs. And some days I even put on regular shoes to help put me in the mindset of activity, per another good friend.

I'm still mostly inert.

I did go for a walk around the neighborhood with the housemates today. It took Griffin to push us into it. I used to be able to push myself. Hell, oftentimes a walk would simply sing its siren song and I'd feel compelled to follow, to walk along the verge or the walking path to a park or a school or simply around the neighborhood. When did I become so solidly still? How did I turn to stone?

I think it mostly started with a devastating depression in my mid-30s that just about cut me off at the knees. With help, I clambered out of that hole and began working my way up to full functioning. Then, in 2000, I was hit with a bad case of vertigo of unknown origin (also known as "idiopathic") that allowed me to work only 20 hours a week or so. (Insurance did not accept anything my rack of doctors said and declared me "not disabled" — stupid things.) While I did that work, I also attended a program in scientific illustration. That's all I was able to do (including my homework); the rest of the time I was stuck on the couch, exhausted from feeling like I was always in motion.

Again, I eventually got over the vertigo (after about 18 months). I had moved to the beach by the time it passed and I started walking on the beach most days. I found work and walked around the estuary at our work campus most days. I still walked on the beach. When I moved to Houston, I walked in the park. When I was on the road, I walked whenever I could.

Baby Steps, 1

Per a suggestion by Susanne, a regular reader and commenter on my blog, I am posting what steps I made on a daily basis for a little bit, to be interspersed with blogs of a heftier sort if and when necessary.

As I am also trying to think less and do more, I am going to try to focus on the action and the functional rather than the what and why. Sometimes I feel like a self-centered brat, always moaning and going on about my problems. But when I presented this perspective a some friends last night, one of them has already responded with a totally different perspective of me as one who is brave and committed to healing and willing to face and talk about my crap and stuff. She doesn't see me the same why I've been seeing me, not even close. That actually makes me feel better.

So, without further ado, I present yesterday's baby steps.

1. Took a short walk with Sabine. It was around the center circle of the neighborhood, so it wasn't that long but the way back required climbing a pretty good hill for about half the walk. It took 10+ minutes and we were both out of breath (oh so horribly out of shape!).
2. Assembled steel-cut oats for slow-cooking to be eaten this morning. (Unfortunately, Griffin didn't turn it on last night and I'm not sure how quickly they will cook on high this morning.)
3. Turned off computer by 9. Didn't start surfing or Pinterest in iPad. Used it for music and found that my good earbuds fit, which made me ecstatic. My good earbuds are Ultimate Ears, which I got 6 years ago, when I bought my MacBook and my iRiver Clix2 mp3 player. Both player and earbuds were most highly rated for sound quality and usability and they rock. Plugging my earbuds into the iPad after having downloaded all my music to it, then listening to the music and hear the full range of sounds, from subtle based to solid midtones and crystal clear high notes just blissed me out as I listened to the end of a playlist before bed.
4. Took a melatonin supplement and got into bed by midnight. Might have made the sleep window but reflux/acidic stomach interfered and I eventually took the 2nd pill. I'm feeling groggy this morning (but then, sleep was still broken and I got 5 1/2 hours of sleep total, but the potential is there). So I tried and will continue trying on that front.

So that's the scoop for yesterday. Tonight I am scheduled to attend a professional meeting (networking, dinner, presentation, more networking). I will NOT allow myself to skip out on it just because I "don't feel like it." Not this time. I am sick of being unemployed (or underemployed) and living in my friends' house in a bedroom. I need my own place. Now. And I need to get out on my own more.

I'm glad I accomplished what I did. I'm disappointed in that it was little. I got very little sleep the night before and didn't get ready very early. More like in the afternoon. Then there was little time to do things. Today I was up a little earlier but as mentioned before am quite groggy (on melatonin but insufficient sleep perhaps?) and my breakfast isn't ready so I'm a bit cranky. While I'm trying to avoid naps in order to be more ready to sleep, today I may make an exception just so I'll be bright-eyed and bush-tailed for the meeting tonight.

That's the news so far today. Thanks, Susanne. This is a great way to keep track and take note.

That's it for

Feeling, Detaching, Continuing

I haven't written in wow — 10 days! I know I usually write about my therapy, but last week, I just couldn't.

Last week's therapy ended up being very emotional and very raw. We started talking about what I wrote about in my last post and pursued it far into my mind and my feelings to see what is behind this desire to reconnect with my past. At the very base of the vortex, we found abandonment and being completely alone. Intellectually, I know that my family did not abandon me and I am not completely alone (besides that fact that we are all basically one on one level). I have people who love me, both locally and scattered across the country. But, at the heart of the matter, those are what I feel.

I cried some. Not as bad as most of the times I cried in Karen's office, but the first time I've cried in Michele's, and the first time I've cried in a while. I really don't like to cry, for numerous reasons. Even more, I don't like to cry in front of someone else. It exhausts me. And when I experience a strong emotion, afterward I detach from emotion for some amount of time.

We ended the hour with a long imaging session. Imaging, visualization, creative imaging: whatever you want to call it. Michele led me and helped me find my way through it and discover things. I'm not going to describe it because it's intensely personal and there are very few people I would be comfortable sharing it with. Hell, I'm barely comfortable sharing it with myself!

Thus, whenever I thought about writing for the blog, I kept thinking about writing about the session, then about how I didn't want to write about the session. So I didn't write, and I didn't write.

I had therapy again today, and after I finished chattering, I told Michele about how I didn't write about last week's session and why. Which in turn led to my emotion/detachment pattern.

I don't want to have this pattern. Last week, on the way home, I left the radio off so I could stay with the feelings from the session and the imaging work. I wanted to ride that emotional wave to the end, the way Michele encouraged me to do. And I did ride it, all the way home. Then, exhausted, I took a long nap. Afterward, I didn't return to thinking about the therapy session or my feelings or the work we'd done and ended with. I didn't do so again until today's therapy.

Therapy Hangover

Sometimes, when going through therapy, a person can experience what some call a "therapy hangover." This feeling can occur from extreme emotions experienced during therapy, from reaching a deep place during therapy, and from intense realizations or epiphanies reached during therapy. Usually this feeling doesn't come during or right after the therapy session, but a little while later.

I think that today I experienced a therapy hangover.

Today's therapy was good. I was feeling disappointed with myself for not achieving the goals I set at last week's session. I've been feeling disappointed in myself for not putting more time toward my freelance job and being behind in reaching my deadline. Those were the feelings we started off the session discussing. Fairly simple and normal stuff.

I tend to approach my sessions in a freestyle, stream-of-conscious style. I lose track of original points as some new thought or memory comes to mind and I chase after that. I've told my previous therapist and my current therapist about this tendency and given them permission to control the session more, but both of them have basically let me follow my paths and tangents.

Today, in particular, I think this tactic was useful. I went from being disappointed in my not reaching my goal for the week to disappointment in myself regarding work to having developed the feeling over years that I'm going to disappoint my employer eventually, so I might as well get it over with right away. (I tend to feel this with friends, too, but forgot to bring this up during therapy.) So I tend to do something that will disappoint: I take a sick day early in my employment, I change plans suddenly (such as not coming in on a day I was scheduled to be in the office, saying I'll work at home instead), and I don't always work as hard as I feel I should and can. I'm not just in the process of disappointing others — I'm disappointing myself.

Ideas and memories and feelings kept coming to mind as I spoke, such as my parents' insistence on straight A's, even though they couldn't do the work I was doing in school and they had no understanding for how hard math was for me, for example. I told my therapist that I'd tried not to internalize that mindset, but that I had anyway. Perfection is hard to live up to.

Bedtime

When I was a child, bedtime was a pleasure I looked forward to. When it was time to go to bed, I went happily, looking forward to resting and dreaming. Even though I was prone to nightmares and night terrors that my parents didn't even know about, I still had more good dreams than bad and I looked forward to each new day.

Fast forward a few decades. The summer of 2007, I wasn't working and it was one of the most glorious summers ever on the Oregon Coast. Temperatures ranged from 75 to 85 most days, with sun and a bit of a breeze and I spent almost every day walking down the hill to the beach, walking up and down the beach, including into the breakers, and then walking back up the beach. I was in good condition, I was losing weight, and I was actually enjoying myself, but I wasn't going to bed until between 2 and 3 am every night. This was highly unusual for me: I hadn't pulled all-nighters or even super-late-nighters in college!

That summer, I was staying awake late because I had created an enormously detailed imaginary life and I stayed up every night into the wee hours living and creating that life. The people sharing that life with me were so real, with complete life histories and backstories. It was beautiful. Every night I would turn off all the lights in the house, turn on some music, light some candles all over my bedroom, and watch the moon wash across my bed and the floor in the room outside my door. And I would dream.

This imaginary life bothered my therapist. She was afraid I was hiding from reality within it. It wasn't until a conversation in mid-summer that she suddenly said "I get it now! Your mind needs to be occupied and it's so unused right now that you need to do something with it." And that was, in great part, why I stayed up late every night dreaming. Once I went back to doing some work and thinking about what I wanted to do next, the imaginary life just melted away.

Fast forward another few years. I've returned to Houston after getting things moving with my mom's estate. I'm miserable: lost, rudderless, and more alone than I've ever been in my life. My closest friend in Houston was rearranging things in his life, in particular his marriage, and he no longer made time to do things with me other than a few days in the Spring to go photograph birds and the occasional lunch. I spent my time — all day, every day — surfing the web. I stayed up far into the night more often than not, not because I had an imaginary life I loved but because I had a real life I despaired of and I stayed up late to put off having to begin another new day.

Victim Thinking

One of my more persistent issues is that of victim thinking. When  that is the way I am thinking, I feel powerless and hopeless. For example, when I feel tired, I generally don't do anything, feeling "too tired to do anything" and like my only option is to give up and do nothing. Or when I am approaching a problem or a project in a certain way and it's not working for me, I feel like I have no other options. Victim thinking makes me feel like I have no choices.

My therapist can basically tell when I'm caught in victim thinking just by my body posture and my voice. (Yeah, not going to take up professional poker any time soon.) Then we talk about how there are other ways to approach a situation differently, that I do have choices and options other than what I feel stuck with. That's powerful, active thinking. It's definitely the kind of thinking that uses the cognitive therapy techniques I've been working on.

The problem is that I've engaged in victim thinking for such a long time that it tends to be my default way of thinking and I still too-easily forget my cognitive techniques. One reason why I still need a therapist: to help me remember to use these techniques and to detect when I am engaged in victim thinking.

I've been caught up in victim thinking for a while since I've been in Seattle. I've grown more and more tired and sleepy since arriving here, so I sleep and don't accomplish the things on my to-do list. I haven't started looking for work and I've been here for a month and a half! I've been feeling unwell off and on and my fibromyalgia has flared up. So I've been thinking things like "I'm too tired to start an online job search right now; I'll take a nap first" and "I don't feel well enough to take a walk" and "My body hurts; I'll unpack later." So I haven't unpacked or started job searches or taken many walks. Then I feel stuck and tired and overwhelmed and ashamed, which thoughts just tend to spiral in on themselves.

I do have moments of powerful thinking. I wrote about them in my last post. I know what to do, what I need to do, what I want to do. But I let my old pattern of victim thinking and non-activity rule me, thus I don't do these things. This is not how to create the life I want. This is not how to be happy and contented.

I need to continually remind myself to check in on my thinking and self-talk. To do this, I need to have an easy way to remind myself. Wearing a rubber band on my wrist has worked in the past; I don't even need to snap it to encourage behavior/thinking modification. Just wearing it works. But I'm not sure where the ones I had back in Houston are right now. Of course, if I unpacked a few things, I might find them. Or I could ask my housemates if they have any large, wide rubber bands (I like them to be a little bit loose). *grin*

Stuck to Unstuck? My New Journey

Oh, how badly I've been stuck. I've been exhausted. My brain has felt clogged and slow. I've taken naps for hours almost every day. I have done virtually nothing to further my plans or contribute to the household. I have been a lump since arriving in Seattle.

Luckily for me, my hosts have been very understanding of my exhaustion and have asked little of me so far. Friends have supported my need for sleep and rest. It's just been me who has had higher expectations.

I have a comprehensive list of things I need to do: catch up with people online and over the phone; contact professional connections; get in touch with local contracting agencies; join professional organizations and meetups and attend meetings and events; unpack what I brought to the house; and begin revising my novel.

I don't expect myself to do everything every day or all at once. I have date ranges for everything in my list. Of course, I'm behind on probably half the list so far. But maybe that's due to my unreasonable expectations in the face of unexpected setbacks. Like needing to sleep all the time.

I have a long history of overindulging myself. In response to what seemed to me a lifetime of excessive and unreasonable expectations and a lack of understanding of my needs, I began to allow myself to slack off on things, which started small and gradually grew to encompass everything in my life.

Well, I've completely changed my life again and this, too, must change. There are things I want to do and things I need to do and blowing them off is not acceptable to me any longer. Blowing off these things does not lead to the life I want to live. And that's the important point: there is a life I want to live and I have to put in the time and effort to create it. Always before, I've waited for it to happen. No more.

When I was younger, I pursued my life more actively, so I know I can do it. There are many things I did and was when I was younger: I cleaned frequently and regularly; I wrote and drew and painted on virtually a daily basis; I did physical activities that I enjoyed; and I didn't dwell on my mostly solitary state. And I daydreamed. I played. I imagined. Those are important things in anybody's life, but particularly in the life of a creative person.

So I'm going to relearn old good habits and discard current bad ones. I'm going to be healthier in ways that I can enjoy. I'm going to rediscover my true self and let her out of the various boxes and closets where I've hidden her and all her wonderful, brilliant aspects. I'm going to love for love's sake, I'm going to love and value myself, and I'm going to live a full and rich life for as long as I possibly can.

Slow Maelstrom

That silence you've heard for the past week and a half was me resting, sleeping, and surfing on the interwebz. You might have heard some snoring, too, from the sleeping. My mind has kind of been like that empty, static-filled screen you see in the middle of the night on some TV channels.

So I'm here, in the Seattle area, and it's kind of weird. I still feel like I'm visiting, even though I oversaw the movers when they put all my stuff in a storage unit. Part of that is because I'm staying in someone's guest room, I'm sure, and some of it is because those times when I have been here over the last dozen years I have been visiting. I need to change my mental framework.

I'm very glad I'm here. I'm also kind of weirded out by it. Many thoughts and feelings have been swirling around inside of me: happiness, exhaustion, stress, anxiety, surrealism, expectations, trying to not have expectations, positivity, fear, and today I'm having some fibromyalgia pain, which I think is partly a delayed reaction from all the stress I was experiencing just getting ready to move. Everything has been swirling slowly, probably due to the exhaustion, for which I am grateful. I couldn't handle vertigo too right now!

The weather has been quite a bit cooler than I am used to. Colder, really — in the 50s during the day. We had a lot of rain and gray days my first week, but we've been having some simply glorious days recently, with brilliant blue skies, puffy white clouds, spring greens, flowers and flowering trees in all colors. These are the days that almost make you forget about the rain and the gray.

I remember when I first moved to Houston: one of the habits I had to wean myself off from was always taking or wearing a jacket or at least an overshirt with me when I left the apartment. Well, I changed that habit and got very comfortable going outside in just a tank, shorts, and sandals. Now I'm in the position of having to reverse the process! I'm underestimating how much I need to wear to be warm enough, usually by a thin layer (think an undershirt or camisole). And I don't always bring a rain jacket when it looks like rain (which is often). I need more weather-appropriate shoes and probably another jacket or vest or two. My BFF says I can borrow his sweaters until I can buy more of my own, which is nice. I really need an income so I can buy these weather-appropriate clothing items. I'm just hoping that I can make enough of my Houston wardrobe work here in Seattle enough of the time so I don't have to buy an entirely new wardrobe, which is more or less what I did in Houston.

Days 5 and 6: Almost There!

Tonight I am so tired I hurt. I also hurt from being in the car so much. I think my fibromyalgia is playing into both the tired and the hurt.

So I'm not going to write much. 

Yesterday we spent most of the day in Joshua Tree National Park and so didn't get as far as planned. However, tonight we are halfway from last night's hotel to Seattle, so that's good. We've had to put in a little extra time driving, as we will tomorrow, but it will be worth it. I have no idea yet how my pictures from Joshua Tree turned out, but I will share them in the pictures blog post.

Tonight we are in Yreka, CA. For those who don't know, it is pronounced "why-reek-uh". Possibly because there is also a Eureka, CA. We encountered a fair amount of rain and clouds today and tonight we are at almost 3000 feet above sea level and it's in the mid-50s. Brrr! Tomorrow I will be wearing the warmer clothing I packed. No more shorts or thin tee shirts for me for a while!

My body doesn't travel well and it gets all discombobulated. I'm down to eating yogurt for dinner because that's all that sounds good. I felt lucky that there was a crockpot full of oatmeal at breakfast this morning. I felt rather queasy much of today. But I'm feeling better tonight. I am currently in bed with the computer on my legs. I'm going to post this and then probably go to sleep very early.

I am glad we are almost done. I am also extremely grateful that Steve flew down and has been helping me drive my car to Seattle, even if we have wanted to push each other out of the moving car from time to time. I've probably gotten some good pictures here and there and it's been cool seeing things that I haven't seen before, or haven't seen in four years. I'm excited about getting back to Seattle, and I'm looking forward to seeing my "family members". I'm also looking forward to a good and stable internet connection and sharing with y'all pictures from my trip.

Talk to you again soon!

Falling In and Out of Love

My love affair with Houston has been waning, as many of you reading my blog have already surmised. I don't have many friends here and none of them are close friends. I don't have work. And it gets too hot and humid for too long for my taste in the summer. And it has giant roaches.

That being said, I have a terrific therapist and psychiatrist. I am involved with an interesting non-profit for which I do both volunteer and paid work. Rarely is there snow and ice in the winter.

I know that the friends part is due largely because I haven't gotten involved in a lot of things. I have gone to professional meetings and networking lunches and met a couple of women there, but they have drifted away. I'm involved with the non-profit and enjoy the people I know through there, but only a couple of them socialize with me and that is rarely. So I guess I have tried.

I think I'm noticing this more since my trip to Oregon. I got to see several friends (and was perhaps busier than was necessary for a vacation). I got to see the ocean again, which I love. I even imagined the sound of gulls my first morning back in Houston. 

Emotional Pinball

I feel like my emotions are in a continual pinball game. Some places are lit up constantly, and pinging, pinging, pinging. Some places never light up, never make noise. The noise is constant, the stimulation is constant, and I don't get a chance to rest, to look away, because the next ball is in play and I have to keep it going for as long as possible. I don't know what will happen if I don't, but I fear it won't be good (my go-to thoughts and emotions are generally negative).

It's exhausting. As an extreme introvert, this much stimulation tires me even on an occasional basis. On a constant basis, well, I have fibromyalgia.

So I sit each day, finding concentration difficult, a constant pinball game playing in my head, wondering why I have so many difficulties getting it all together.

I think that the solution would be to just stop playing the game. Unfortunately, it's gone beyond my control and it plays itself. So now I have to figure out how to make it stop itself. Along with all that other stuff I'm doing to my mind.

Do you ever feel like your mind is a pinball game, or a thunderstorm, or some other powerful, highly stimulated state? What do you do when that happens?

Absolutely Exhausted

'Absolutely Exhausted' is a phrase used by my mother since I can remember. Of course, I picked up this phrase from hearing it all my life. Most of the time, it's simply an example of hyperbole or poetic license, but there are occasions when it was ... or is ... a completely concrete description of my condition.

For example, there was the time I went to Knott's Berry Farm with my youth group when I was 15. My best friend, two boys we barely knew, and I spent the day and evening wandering around the theme park, riding on roller coasters and eating whenever we felt tired. The next day, not only could I barely move, I couldn't stand. I was absolutely exhausted. And my feet hurt.

When I was in my mid-20s, my doctor informally diagnosed me with fibromyalgia. At the time, few doctors had even heard of the condition, much less gave it legitimacy. But fibro (as my friends and I call it) gives concreteness to 'absolute exhaustion.' In fact, when the fibro is flaring up it makes me feel a lot like a block of concrete. Tired concrete.

Know what else causes 'absolute exhaustion'? Depression. Grief.  Eating poorly (too many simple carbs). Too little exercise. Poor sleep: too little, too much, not staying asleep, and so on. Basically, I have an absolute exhaustion trifecta, or quadrafecta, or whatever. And I am absolutely exhausted. And I have a plane to catch.

Okay, so I don't have to catch the plane for another 59 hours (is that all?!), but considering that I am almost welded to the couch I'm so tired and immobile, 59 hours — including time for sleeping eating commuting working errands laundry dishes packing reading email and picking up my new iPhone on Thursday — isn't much more than a blink. A slow blink. And slow is all I can do right now.

Fibro and fatigue have been teaching me about essentials over the years, and I am getting better at pushing aside the little errands and activities and things that are nonessential for travel (I almost don't overpack anymore!). But I still have a helluva lot of essentials to handle before Thursday night. And I am Exhausted — Absolutely.

How about you? Is 'absolute exhaustion' a poetic notion or a concrete adjective in your life? Do you have any family sayings that are truer now than they once were?

NaNoWriMo, Day 2: Even Worse!

Unfortunately, today was a very long day. I was busy with one of my jobs most of the day, then led a meeting for that one. I didn't get to my other job at all and as of 9 pm I haven't written for NaNo. Not sure yet if I will. Because after a very long meeting, I drove down the road a ways and discovered I had a completely flat tire. And I wasn't in a very good neighborhood. Thank heavens for cell phones!

Luckily, I have roadside service with my insurance coverage. So after about 45 minutes parked at a gas station, a nice man came and changed my tire. Ah!

But now I'm exhausted and my eyes are all squinty (I was on the computer all day, in a much more intense way than when I'm on it just messing around). I'm tired. I'm wired. I'm not sure if I can manage to write creatively.

But if I can, I'll report it tomorrow.

TTFN!

Word count for the day: 0.

Where Was I?

So much has happened since my last post, written that innocent day in mid-August when life seemed so much simpler. Full of work to do, yes, but not as complicated as it was to become. I'm very glad I didn't know the future!

Where do I start? I added a week to my two-week stay so I could finish all the tasks I needed to finish. Two days before I was due to fly back to Houston, I had an emergency appendectomy. Luckily for me, I finished all the main things I needed to finish and had sequestered my own things in one place. Sure, a few small things went missing after that, but I hadn't gotten around to sequestering them, and who needs more than one copy of the key to the lock on the storage unit? Only those of us with OCD issues about losing the remaining key.

So I had surgery. And no home to return to: it was being readied for the estate sale. But people offered to let me stay with them, and I was and remain grateful to them for this. My realtor/friend was more nurturing than my mom's friend, so it's good I stayed with my realtor first. Plus, she had no animals, which made my time there very peaceful. I entertained her and her husband, even when I wasn't looped out on Percocet; later on she told me that, during a rather uneventful visit by her nephew, she and her husband looked at each other and said, "I miss Skye!" Aww. They want me to stay with them the next time I visit.

But there went another week and a couple of days before my doctor said I could travel.

Then my friend Steve from Seattle drove down and took me back to Seattle for a much-needed visit. Not only was I not entirely recuperated enough to be sent home, I needed to be with my friends there to distract me from the anniversary of my mother's death. (Actually, I think I did my grieving as I lay in pre-op, realizing that my mom couldn't be there for me then and wouldn't be there for me afterward.)

Finally, five weeks and two days after I left Houston, I returned home. My car, parked under cover at the Park n Fly lot, started right off. For only the second time since surgery, I drove; I got home fine, but I was exhausted and my tummy was sore. And the apartment was just as messy as it was when I left it, unfortunately. Where are those house-elves when you need them?

I've rested a lot since I got home — I can only go so long before I simply fall over, and so long isn't that long. I gave myself the first three days to lie around in my pjs and do nothing. 

I've accomplished things, I've left the apartment, and yet the place is still virtually as messy as before. Tomorrow, my mom's — now my — RAV4 arrives in Houston, driven by a couple of very generous friends. Soon thereafter, they drive away in my Subaru, taking it to its new home. Change, change, change, change. Dammit.

I have projects promised, I have been offered an insane work proposition, and I have a lot of people to reconnect with. But I'm taking it slowly, because my tummy still hurts and my mind is still swirling from the point when everything flew apart and I just haven't landed yet.

I have some posts started when I was still in Oregon that I'll finish and post, later. But I wanted to catch up to the present, before reaching back into the past. I have so much to do, and so much I want to do, that I wanted to at least settle onto the hard-packed earth of right now. I lost my footing. I need to ground myself so I can go on.

So here I am: crazy and tired and swirly and wanting to work and so much less sure of things than I expected to be at this point. I keep reminding myself: this is not my true natural state; this is an artifact of the way my life has been for over a year. Slowly perhaps, I will make my way back to the focused, fun, highly capable, and cheerful person that is me. My current state is transitional and temporary and I'll sweep it out the door just as quickly as I can.

With that, I bid you good night.

Exhaustion Trumps Creativity

Today I was kept company by the demons of sore muscles and fatigue. I did get to watch two muscular young men move stuff from storage back to the house, and chat with them. I even bought groceries.

But I was brought down by extreme exhaustion (where did you come from?) and feel asleep for four hours. I figured that someone would call or text me and that would wake me up. A phone call did come in, from one of my favorite people, and I slept right through it!

Now it is late and there is no way I'm bending my mind towards a decent post. Just come back tomorrow.

That's all. Shoo!

Territorial

I spent today marking my territory. Instead of pee, I used lime green post-it notes and a blue gel pen.

The friend who was helping me suggested I mark items before beginning The Great Adventure in Packing. Smart woman, that Kem. So we wandered thru much of the house marking stuff to be sent to me in Houston, to go into storage for me (and a couple of things for my aunt), and then marked things for the estate sale as $ for Skye or $ for Carolyn. It was a useful day, complete with lunch from Subway and lots of talking. 

All that remains are the two smaller bedrooms, although there is a lot of stuff in one of the closets. Once all the marking is complete, then the packing can begin!

I imagine I'll begin some of the packing tomorrow, after a break and perhaps a walk on the beach. Then my friend Glynis will be here all day Monday; I imagine we will finish most if not all of the rest. Plus a walk on the beach.

The movers come Tuesday to swap stuff in and out of storage. Then Wednesday I begin to go thru my own storage unit so I can make room for whatever is left in the second storage unit.

Universe, please give me enough money so I can afford a larger living space and be able to move the things in my storage unit in Oregon to my home in Houston. Really, I've spent more than enough money on storage. And, no, getting my portion of the estate will not be the money I'm asking for. See yesterday's post and my comment for why.

I'm tired and should consider going to bed very soon. I imagine I will feel like this most days that I am here. (Hey Merry! Come join me at the beach!) But it's a good kind of tired. It's a "I've been on my feet almost all day and accomplished a lot" kind of tired. And I am very grateful that I had help; I couldn't have accomplished half of what I did without it.

Travel Tribulations and Exaltations

or How I came to the Coast, met Julie of JulieLand, and rediscovered the Need for Sleep

For those who don't already know, I flew from Houston to Oregon on the 18th and Julie promptly visited me here on the Coast. She arrived late Wednesday night, we stayed up way too late talking (plus I was already two hours behind and suffering from a 4- to 5-hour, broken sleep the night before — I don't always travel well), and she left Thursday about 8 pm. And we didn't accomplish nearly enough or spend enough time together! But much fun was had by all, and there was much rejoicing (and we didn't even have to eat the minstrels! — we did, however, eat dessert).

The fun began when I forgot to bring my cell phones with me. I discovered this delightful fact when I got out of my car at the Park 'n Fly lot in Houston. Too late to go back and get them (yes, there are two and no, I won't explain it right now) and how would I call someone to get them for me?

Portland's elevated walkway with clear "ceiling".

The line to check baggage was long. The line thru security made the baggage line look like a poser. A third of the way thru the security line and I was wishing for my cane; my lengthy exercise-free phase and my "oops, accidentally undernourished" streak made me weak and unready for such a long time standing. When I finally arrived at the gate, perfectly ready to upgrade to first class, the flight was not only full, it was already boarding! I typed up a couple of urgent emails and sent them off so people would know that I had no phones. It has been (and continues to be) Very Uncomfortable.

Long flight, interesting seat mate, too little room, got a kink in my back (not the good kind and I'm still working on it). Waited three hours for the shuttle out to the Coast, then half an hour for my ride home. At least the sun was shining. 

I got the basics of food, went home and exploded all over my bedroom (luggage here, clothing there). Then I proceeded to email Julie and nap until she arrived around 11. Ah, the wonderfully distinctive sound of the VW Bug (original) engine!

Julie was everything I imagined she'd be and more. We had the best time and we both talk a mile a minute when we are excited. We both adapted our sleep schedules. Then, instead of tromping thru the treasure cave (storage unit), we spent the day dealing with dead car battery, trying to charge it, getting new one. I think some of our activities were redundant, but that's okay.

Julie's the cute one. I'm the scary redhead.

While waiting for the car, we wandered around the shops nearby (one or two were highly interesting), then went home. At least Mom's house is within walking distance from the mechanic, a very useful aspect of that mechanic shop (besides being trustworthy and good at their job).

Then it was time to take a nap, then have dinner, and there went Julie, driving off into the darkness toward Eugene.

I'm already looking forward to this coming Wednesday and I'm trying to catch up on my sleep beforehand!

Now I'm off to rest up so I can write another blog post later!

All Whacked Out

Not in the right place. My bad. Let's just say I had an annoying day full of too much caffeine and too little sleep. I fell asleep over my laptop and woke with a mind and body that just didn't want to function or work together.

Fear of Sleeping and a Taste of Pain

I had intended to write regularly this summer. After all, my tasks were light. All I had to do was take my mom to treatments and help her out. But cancer consumed my summer, and then it consumed my mom.

I don't want to go to sleep at night. I don't want to get up in the morning. Tonight I fell into a rampage of sobbing, with my best friend patting me and holding my hand. Then he got me kleenex for my nose and a cool washcloth for my face.

I don't usually cry when someone dies, not much. I'm usually the strong one. When my dad died, I felt I had to be strong for my mom --- who was destroyed --- and my brother --- who was young. When my brother died at 18, I had to be strong for a host of people who were leaking tears and acting distraught; no one asked me if I needed any comfort.

There is no one to be strong for now but me. No one who depends on me for comfort.

No one who will be my anchor when I wander in the void. I feel as if gravity has given way and I don't know how to find my way home, or if I have a home to find a way to.

Meep

As some of you know, my grandma died last September after a long period of becoming progressively weaker. She ate less and less and drank less and less. After she died, although Mom and I missed her a great deal (she lived with my mom for several years), Mom wanted very much to travel, and to travel with me when possible. She wanted to go to Europe and to Hawaii with me.

Mom finished radiation on August 13th, just over 3 weeks ago. She has gotten progressively tired and weaker since a couple of weeks into radiation. We've been told that the effects continue after the treatments. She is now so weak that she can barely stand without help. i have to haul her up to get her from a sitting position; so far I haven't hurt myself or dislocated her arm (we aren't doing this correctly but haven't made any other route work yet). I am going to contact Home Health: I cannot do this by myself anymore.