I am frustrated beyond explanation. Thought about screaming, but that really, wouldn't solve anything. At this point, I am looking for results, more importantly, relief. You have no idea the restraint I am showing here. I want to drop every "bad" word there is. I am so tired of this. Last night, in my dream, I discovered weed (this from a girl who has never done ANY type of drug). I didn't smoke it. It didn't even look like it does in the show, Weeds. It was just there and somehow, I knew I had absorbed it. I felt FANTASTIC! Pain free and in my dream, I was sleeping peacefully, even waking to comment on it. Then I woke up. Nope. It surely was a dream. I was already dreading getting up and moving. Get up, go to the bathroom and be instantly consumed with the diminishing hope that today I will get some answers. Today, I know there will be no answers. Yesterday, I completed two more tests and have an MRI tomorrow. Maybe Thursday? I just need a plan...and a goal.
Stupid kidneys. Chronic infections with no real explanation. Bad, bring you to your knees, spasms, faithful evening low-grade temps, chills, freaking pain. Exhaustion. Crazy body aches. No, more than aches. Joint swelling, muscle and bone pain. Right now we have to treat the infections before the joint issues. One thing at a time.
I used to think and be told that I had great pain tolerance. I am no longer sure that is the case. I can feel all of this breaking me down. I try to remember that there are others, enduring so much more and wake to do it each day. That is endurance. I have to admit, I am ready to throw a temper tantrum. It has been 7 months now. I am tired.
I had a plan. I recovered from one illness that knocked me for a loop and was eager to start anew. Sometimes, I really wonder if this is all in my head. I mean, really, who gets this crap? I seriously start to wonder if I am crazy. I am not kidding here. We have all heard of the women who think they are pregnant and start to show signs of pregnancy, even when she is not at all pregnant. But, then I remember. The ER visits, the test concluding infections, the seemingly endless rounds of antibiotics, pain meds, the shots in the ass because I was so clearly uncomfortable. Enough already! I can't do this anymore. I don't want to.
I am now seeing a nephrologist. I have been repeating most of the same tests all saying the same. Great. So what is the plan? I NEED a plan. I am a planner, a doer. Lately I am more of a sitter, a wheel spinner. The past week and a half has been particularly rough as I currently have an infection and to get true results, I have to be off the antibiotic. I am in Ill Limbo. I hate this.
I HAD A PLAN! I know, I know...that expression, tell God your plans and watch Him laugh. Those earthquakes, that was God listening to my plan...I made Him fall on His ass, He was laughing so hard! Fantastic.
I am napping. I am talking crash hard 3-4 hour only waking because I had to pee naps. I am only able to do this once hubby gets home. Basic daily activities are exhausting to me. Sure, sure, I am overweight, you say. Really. Because before this all started I could run circles around some. I am a doer, a mover. I am NOT a sitter. Well, at least I wasn't.
I miss my kids. I feel like I am missing things. I want to do more. Don't get me wrong, I am sure that if I were anywhere near a healthy weight, I would not be as bad off. Where do I start? Shopping is a joke. Get in, get out. Our shelves are as low as they have ever been. After getting through the day, I am too mentally exhausted to put in the effort to create a real list. We have been rotating the same meals, for simplicity. Most nights, hubby comes home and cooks while I lay down. He also is doing the laundry and taking care of our children as well as other household chores. I cannot even begin to explain how hard all this is. Besides my children, he is another ray of light in my life. I am so lucky to have him. This brings on the guilt. Doesn't he deserve better? I feel like I am letting so many down.
I just want answers and a plan. I have always believed that things happen for a reason. I am and have been struggling with all of this for some time now.
I called a very good friend last week and just broke down. I had reached my limit that day. She pointed out that I have a tendency to not allow or believe myself to be sick unless it is confirmed by someone else. She is right. That adds to the stress because even though there are those around me who know that I have been sick off and on, they fail to treat me as so. There are no breaks. Then, in my (very messed up) head I think, "If they know I am sick and are still expecting the same, then maybe I am expecting too little of myself." And so I move on, feeling like crap and carrying great resentment. Deep down, I KNOW that I feel like crap and I should rest, but the feelings on the surface tell me not to disappoint. So I suck it up.. I know where this stems from. In the past, I have had significant illnesses, injuries, etc. When I brought them up, the basic response was that others have issues and they deal with them. I had responsibilities. In an effort to please, regardless of how I felt, I kept on. The ultimate validation was when a doctor would eventually say, "she needs surgery". Even then, post-op I was expected to tolerate too much too soon. I know...crazy. But these things stick. So much so, that I still act as though those expectations are still there. That is because they are. I place them on myself and crumble at the tiniest of signs that someone else expects the same, regardless. I wish I could just say to myself, "They are selfish and rely on you not to be.". It just isn't that easy. So, I rely on my good friend to shed some light and remind me that this is what is happening. But, here is the crazy, true side of what years of manipulation does to you. After admitting that she has a point, I later think that maybe I am seeing her point because that is the answer I wanted to hear. Commit me.
So, another day, no answers. I am hopeful that this time next week, I will have a plan. I need a plan. Have I said that before?
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Memories...
One of the most important and by far the most influential people in my life has been my Grandmother. Gram. Just the thought of her or simply saying, "Gram", gives me the warmest feeling. Her love, kindness and encouragement for me has, time and again, reminded me how blessed I am. I wonder if she ever knew what an incredible role she played in my life.
I am luckier than most, I guess, that my Gram is still with us. I have trouble saying this because, I am not sure, just how with us she really is. She has been, for sometime now, suffering from dementia. The worst has been the last year. She took a pretty harsh fall and hit her head, aggravating and advancing the disease further to her current state. Her short-term memory is poor. She still remembers most of us. It's the newest additions to the family that are lost to her. As well as dinner and lunch dates or parties that are on her calendar.
It has been a tough year for me. I have been racked with guilt. To the point where it is hard for me to see her. Although, I know I am not directly responsible for the state she is in today, I often find myself wondering, "if only".
I was always close with my Gram. And in the past ten years, since motherhood hit, even more so. After the age of 7 or so, I wasn't able to see her as much as I would have loved to. The years before then, we spent quite a bit of time together. I loved being at Grandma & Granddad's so much that, when it was time to leave, I would "forget" something so it could get mailed back to me. When it was returned, I would soak in the smell. It was a mixture of pipe tobacco (the sweetest smell!), wood (my grandfather was a carpenter) and just goodness that comforted me in so many ways. I knew her handwriting and felt instant love when a letter or card came addressed to me. My Grandparents had built a big red house out in the hills of Bolivar, NY. When you stepped onto the deck, you could hear the leaves softly rustle as a mild breeze moved through the trees just before it brushed across your cheeks and through your hair. Oh, and the scent of the fresh air! I loved it so much that, when my parents moved us from Tonawanda to Orchard Park (where they bought a house with wooded property), the first morning we awoke in the new house, I immediately went to the back porch to see if I could drink in the same sweetness as I enjoyed in Bolivar. It was pretty darn close, but could never be the same. Because at Grandma and Granddad's, I was safe and free.
When I was about 20, my Granddad (who was wonderful to me as well) passed away. While Gram remained in The Big Red House, she was rarely there. Shortly after my Granddad's passing, one of her daughters, my Godmother and Aunt, Kath, was diagnosed with cancer, again. Over the next seven years, Gram would dedicate her time to helping and caring for Kath, who lived in Kentucky. She did so until Aunt Kath lost her battle with breast cancer. Gram returned home. To The Big Red House where she carried on with her life. She enjoyed her local friends, meeting her kooky, lovable and fun sisters, visiting with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She advised, listened, shared recipes and her love.
At some point in the past six years, Gram decided it was time to move. The house was getting too much for her. Although she had been told this long before, she needed to be ready herself. She was very independent. So, to my delight, she moved to an apartment that was only three miles from my house (By the way, I bought a house that offered that same sweet smell, almost). Everyone helped to get her settled. I was thrilled. I've got Gram!
My Grandmother and I are very much alike. We share the same interests such as photography, sewing, cooking, baking, planning and constructing. She was also very good at planning large meals and parties. She appreciated my knack for the fine details and always complimented me on how beautiful everything looked and tasted. She often took pictures of my place settings and food. Gram ALWAYS had a camera in her hand.
There is a funny story between Gram and me. When I was in 9Th grade and was taking Home Economics, we were to bring in a favorite recipe from home. The recipe I chose was Dutch Apple Cake. Gram made this all the time and I loved it! About 5 years ago, after apple picking, Gram came over for dinner. I asked her if she wanted to help make the Dutch Apple Cake. As we worked in the kitchen together she said, "Rach, have I ever told you where I got this recipe from?". I replied, "No Gram, I don't think you ever have!". She went on: "When I was in 8Th grade, this was the recipe the Home Economics teacher had us prepare.". You can imagine the surprise and laughter. Not to mention the irony! We had a special bond.
Unfortunately though, my time with Gram was slipping away quickly. She was becoming more and more forgetful. She wasn't taking her medicine (she was also diabetic) and that was making things worse. I wanted so badly to protect her. I wasn't willing to write her off. I knew how much her independence meant to her. I was doing as much as I could to help, knowing it would never be enough. My time was limited. I have 3 small children, a house and job. I was struggling to manage everything. She would come over here and I was so on edge. At times, it was like having another child. I was constantly watching so she wouldn't pick somebody up and then possibly fall. I knew that, aside from potential injuries to herself and the child, she would NEVER forgive herself if she had caused harm to a little one that she loved so much. I had to lie to her about why she couldn't be left with the children so I could run to the store. I hated all of this so much. I just wanted my Gram back!
I tried to organize visits, meal drops, medicine checks all with very little response. I knew I had to be careful. I didn't want the wrong response (prematurely sending her to a nursing home). I felt very strongly, that if I could keep her meds regulated, she would get better. There was just no way to make this happen. Remember, in all this, I am just the granddaughter who doesn't know what she is talking about. The truth was, I was the granddaughter who loved her greatly and wanted what she would have wanted for herself. There were others involved, well meaning. But, I still feel that I really knew my Grandmother and what she needed. NO! Wanted! I know that the others where also trying to do what was best. It was a hard situation.
Last September, I got a call from a sleepy, confused Gram. This was not abnormal, as she would often wake from a nap and call me to help her reorientate herself. She wanted to know where her kids were, she said they never came home from school. It was dinner/pick-up/karate time here so it was hectic. I reminded her that her children were grown and where they all were now. Convinced that this was a typical call, I wasn't alarmed. Then she said something that stuck with me, not immediately, but later. She said, "I think I hit my head, can you please give me a call in a couple of hours." I always did. So I said goodbye. After things died down, I sat to give Gram a call back. At first she seemed fine, but then she started talking about her children as though they were still little. Once she started talking about the fact that she thought she was in Mexico, bells went off. I called my mom, her sisters, her son. They, for the most part thought I was overreacting. At one point, my Aunt tried to convince me that she was fine. She had just spoken to Gram and she was doing dishes. "Fine!", I said, "But she thinks she's doing them in MEXICO!". It was well after 9:00 PM. I had to get over there. What if she really did hit her head, what if she had a concussion, what if she had a stroke? So I went.
I knocked on her door and she opened it with a great smile. I noticed the huge bruise on her forehead. I walked in and said, "Gram, please don't be upset with me. If this were me, I know that you would want the same. I am taking you to the hospital to be checked out." She smiled and said, "OK." She was in the middle of eating and I told her to go ahead and finish while I got her things in order (every time I picked her up we had to play Find the Purse. She would hide it for safety and then forget where!) . She sat and ate and we were chatting. When I found her things I was checking for ID, insurance cards, etc. She looked up at me and said, "I'll need my papers if we are returning to the US. We are in Mexico, right?" Thank you Aunt Kath! (Who's in Heaven). I needed that sign, that I was doing the right thing. Off we went...not before I noticed that there was only a quarter of the Lemon Meringue pie left. I had taken her shopping the day before and she bought it then. Remember, she is diabetic.
I went to the hospital with her and stayed until they sent me home for sleep at 6:00AM. The next morning my Uncle went in and I returned to visit later. I was so upset. She wasn't at all the same as when I had left her. I stayed there to wait for the doctor. Gram was in another time. She knew who I was, but in her mind, she was mothering her four young children. What had I done? Did she have a stroke and I didn't pick up on the signs? She told me she had a bump on her head. Why didn't I get to her sooner? This was my Gram. She cared for me and loved me and I let her down. I was too busy in my own little world and Gram needed me. She has never been the same since.
It is suspected that the combination of not taking her meds, along with eating too much of her favorite desert, caused her sugar to rise and she fell (in the bathroom) and hit her head on the sink or tub. It was a pretty good bump. I wasn't there. I could have brought her here for the day. I can't tell you how often these thoughts run through my mind. And when I see her, despite her smile and tight embrace for me, my heart breaks and I am filled with guilt and sadness. Where is Gram?
Gram never returned to her apartment. I had taken her out for the last time. In fact, she doesn't even recall that apartment or the three years she spent there. It is lost to her. She is now very happily residing in a beautiful assisted living facility. She has made friends (a special man friend!!) and tells me how she likes it there. She talks of selling her house and buying a new car. I have been drastically less worried about her. I know that she is getting her medicine and meals and constant companionship. I don't get to talk to her everyday like I used to because she is often not in her room when I call. That's OK. I know where she is. But I worry that she will forget about me. I also wonder if she feels that I have let her down. I miss her so much. I miss her advise. I miss everything.
Gram turned 80 last October. Before her fall, I was planning a party for her. It is hard for me to see others her age and older out and about, like she should be. Now I fill photo albums with pictures she has kept and taken over many years. Only a fraction of them were left here with me. She lights up each time I give her a new one. Although I know how completely unrealistic it is, part of me hopes that she looks through the memories and well...remembers. What I am grateful for is that she is happy in this state. That her life had these moments engraved in her mind to give her a home of comfort if this was what was to become of her. I know Gram is still here, but I miss her.
I am happy for the time that I had with Gram. I imagine her quickly moving from room to room and the wrinkles she would get in her forehead while in deep thought. Her endless lists and yellow notepads with pencils laid beside them, always ready for her next thought. The cup of coffee that she would loose throughout the house (just like me). The clicking noise she would make while she danced through the kitchen. The Polka music I more than tolerated. It is because of her, however, that I enjoy listening to Andre Rieu. She adored my children and they got to know her well. Gram was a Nursing Home Administrator for years and would often get upset with those that would mar the reputation and name of good nursing homes out there. I know that she must have seen the possibilities that lay before her. The saddest part of all this, is that she is healthy. It is her mind, that got her so far in life, that is now failing her.
I will most likely never know if there was something I could have done to prevent this and give her more of what she deserved. What I do know is that I will spend the rest of her life letting her know how much she means to me. I will laugh with her, listen to her, hold her and love her. The best that I know how. The way she did for me. I love you Gram.
Love,
Ra Ra
I am luckier than most, I guess, that my Gram is still with us. I have trouble saying this because, I am not sure, just how with us she really is. She has been, for sometime now, suffering from dementia. The worst has been the last year. She took a pretty harsh fall and hit her head, aggravating and advancing the disease further to her current state. Her short-term memory is poor. She still remembers most of us. It's the newest additions to the family that are lost to her. As well as dinner and lunch dates or parties that are on her calendar.
It has been a tough year for me. I have been racked with guilt. To the point where it is hard for me to see her. Although, I know I am not directly responsible for the state she is in today, I often find myself wondering, "if only".
I was always close with my Gram. And in the past ten years, since motherhood hit, even more so. After the age of 7 or so, I wasn't able to see her as much as I would have loved to. The years before then, we spent quite a bit of time together. I loved being at Grandma & Granddad's so much that, when it was time to leave, I would "forget" something so it could get mailed back to me. When it was returned, I would soak in the smell. It was a mixture of pipe tobacco (the sweetest smell!), wood (my grandfather was a carpenter) and just goodness that comforted me in so many ways. I knew her handwriting and felt instant love when a letter or card came addressed to me. My Grandparents had built a big red house out in the hills of Bolivar, NY. When you stepped onto the deck, you could hear the leaves softly rustle as a mild breeze moved through the trees just before it brushed across your cheeks and through your hair. Oh, and the scent of the fresh air! I loved it so much that, when my parents moved us from Tonawanda to Orchard Park (where they bought a house with wooded property), the first morning we awoke in the new house, I immediately went to the back porch to see if I could drink in the same sweetness as I enjoyed in Bolivar. It was pretty darn close, but could never be the same. Because at Grandma and Granddad's, I was safe and free.
When I was about 20, my Granddad (who was wonderful to me as well) passed away. While Gram remained in The Big Red House, she was rarely there. Shortly after my Granddad's passing, one of her daughters, my Godmother and Aunt, Kath, was diagnosed with cancer, again. Over the next seven years, Gram would dedicate her time to helping and caring for Kath, who lived in Kentucky. She did so until Aunt Kath lost her battle with breast cancer. Gram returned home. To The Big Red House where she carried on with her life. She enjoyed her local friends, meeting her kooky, lovable and fun sisters, visiting with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She advised, listened, shared recipes and her love.
At some point in the past six years, Gram decided it was time to move. The house was getting too much for her. Although she had been told this long before, she needed to be ready herself. She was very independent. So, to my delight, she moved to an apartment that was only three miles from my house (By the way, I bought a house that offered that same sweet smell, almost). Everyone helped to get her settled. I was thrilled. I've got Gram!
My Grandmother and I are very much alike. We share the same interests such as photography, sewing, cooking, baking, planning and constructing. She was also very good at planning large meals and parties. She appreciated my knack for the fine details and always complimented me on how beautiful everything looked and tasted. She often took pictures of my place settings and food. Gram ALWAYS had a camera in her hand.
There is a funny story between Gram and me. When I was in 9Th grade and was taking Home Economics, we were to bring in a favorite recipe from home. The recipe I chose was Dutch Apple Cake. Gram made this all the time and I loved it! About 5 years ago, after apple picking, Gram came over for dinner. I asked her if she wanted to help make the Dutch Apple Cake. As we worked in the kitchen together she said, "Rach, have I ever told you where I got this recipe from?". I replied, "No Gram, I don't think you ever have!". She went on: "When I was in 8Th grade, this was the recipe the Home Economics teacher had us prepare.". You can imagine the surprise and laughter. Not to mention the irony! We had a special bond.
Unfortunately though, my time with Gram was slipping away quickly. She was becoming more and more forgetful. She wasn't taking her medicine (she was also diabetic) and that was making things worse. I wanted so badly to protect her. I wasn't willing to write her off. I knew how much her independence meant to her. I was doing as much as I could to help, knowing it would never be enough. My time was limited. I have 3 small children, a house and job. I was struggling to manage everything. She would come over here and I was so on edge. At times, it was like having another child. I was constantly watching so she wouldn't pick somebody up and then possibly fall. I knew that, aside from potential injuries to herself and the child, she would NEVER forgive herself if she had caused harm to a little one that she loved so much. I had to lie to her about why she couldn't be left with the children so I could run to the store. I hated all of this so much. I just wanted my Gram back!
I tried to organize visits, meal drops, medicine checks all with very little response. I knew I had to be careful. I didn't want the wrong response (prematurely sending her to a nursing home). I felt very strongly, that if I could keep her meds regulated, she would get better. There was just no way to make this happen. Remember, in all this, I am just the granddaughter who doesn't know what she is talking about. The truth was, I was the granddaughter who loved her greatly and wanted what she would have wanted for herself. There were others involved, well meaning. But, I still feel that I really knew my Grandmother and what she needed. NO! Wanted! I know that the others where also trying to do what was best. It was a hard situation.
Last September, I got a call from a sleepy, confused Gram. This was not abnormal, as she would often wake from a nap and call me to help her reorientate herself. She wanted to know where her kids were, she said they never came home from school. It was dinner/pick-up/karate time here so it was hectic. I reminded her that her children were grown and where they all were now. Convinced that this was a typical call, I wasn't alarmed. Then she said something that stuck with me, not immediately, but later. She said, "I think I hit my head, can you please give me a call in a couple of hours." I always did. So I said goodbye. After things died down, I sat to give Gram a call back. At first she seemed fine, but then she started talking about her children as though they were still little. Once she started talking about the fact that she thought she was in Mexico, bells went off. I called my mom, her sisters, her son. They, for the most part thought I was overreacting. At one point, my Aunt tried to convince me that she was fine. She had just spoken to Gram and she was doing dishes. "Fine!", I said, "But she thinks she's doing them in MEXICO!". It was well after 9:00 PM. I had to get over there. What if she really did hit her head, what if she had a concussion, what if she had a stroke? So I went.
I knocked on her door and she opened it with a great smile. I noticed the huge bruise on her forehead. I walked in and said, "Gram, please don't be upset with me. If this were me, I know that you would want the same. I am taking you to the hospital to be checked out." She smiled and said, "OK." She was in the middle of eating and I told her to go ahead and finish while I got her things in order (every time I picked her up we had to play Find the Purse. She would hide it for safety and then forget where!) . She sat and ate and we were chatting. When I found her things I was checking for ID, insurance cards, etc. She looked up at me and said, "I'll need my papers if we are returning to the US. We are in Mexico, right?" Thank you Aunt Kath! (Who's in Heaven). I needed that sign, that I was doing the right thing. Off we went...not before I noticed that there was only a quarter of the Lemon Meringue pie left. I had taken her shopping the day before and she bought it then. Remember, she is diabetic.
I went to the hospital with her and stayed until they sent me home for sleep at 6:00AM. The next morning my Uncle went in and I returned to visit later. I was so upset. She wasn't at all the same as when I had left her. I stayed there to wait for the doctor. Gram was in another time. She knew who I was, but in her mind, she was mothering her four young children. What had I done? Did she have a stroke and I didn't pick up on the signs? She told me she had a bump on her head. Why didn't I get to her sooner? This was my Gram. She cared for me and loved me and I let her down. I was too busy in my own little world and Gram needed me. She has never been the same since.
It is suspected that the combination of not taking her meds, along with eating too much of her favorite desert, caused her sugar to rise and she fell (in the bathroom) and hit her head on the sink or tub. It was a pretty good bump. I wasn't there. I could have brought her here for the day. I can't tell you how often these thoughts run through my mind. And when I see her, despite her smile and tight embrace for me, my heart breaks and I am filled with guilt and sadness. Where is Gram?
Gram never returned to her apartment. I had taken her out for the last time. In fact, she doesn't even recall that apartment or the three years she spent there. It is lost to her. She is now very happily residing in a beautiful assisted living facility. She has made friends (a special man friend!!) and tells me how she likes it there. She talks of selling her house and buying a new car. I have been drastically less worried about her. I know that she is getting her medicine and meals and constant companionship. I don't get to talk to her everyday like I used to because she is often not in her room when I call. That's OK. I know where she is. But I worry that she will forget about me. I also wonder if she feels that I have let her down. I miss her so much. I miss her advise. I miss everything.
Gram turned 80 last October. Before her fall, I was planning a party for her. It is hard for me to see others her age and older out and about, like she should be. Now I fill photo albums with pictures she has kept and taken over many years. Only a fraction of them were left here with me. She lights up each time I give her a new one. Although I know how completely unrealistic it is, part of me hopes that she looks through the memories and well...remembers. What I am grateful for is that she is happy in this state. That her life had these moments engraved in her mind to give her a home of comfort if this was what was to become of her. I know Gram is still here, but I miss her.
I am happy for the time that I had with Gram. I imagine her quickly moving from room to room and the wrinkles she would get in her forehead while in deep thought. Her endless lists and yellow notepads with pencils laid beside them, always ready for her next thought. The cup of coffee that she would loose throughout the house (just like me). The clicking noise she would make while she danced through the kitchen. The Polka music I more than tolerated. It is because of her, however, that I enjoy listening to Andre Rieu. She adored my children and they got to know her well. Gram was a Nursing Home Administrator for years and would often get upset with those that would mar the reputation and name of good nursing homes out there. I know that she must have seen the possibilities that lay before her. The saddest part of all this, is that she is healthy. It is her mind, that got her so far in life, that is now failing her.
I will most likely never know if there was something I could have done to prevent this and give her more of what she deserved. What I do know is that I will spend the rest of her life letting her know how much she means to me. I will laugh with her, listen to her, hold her and love her. The best that I know how. The way she did for me. I love you Gram.
Love,
Ra Ra
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Camp
"You're in!". A friend said this to me after hearing I had been invited out to "Camp". This was 19 years ago. I had only just met this group of new friends a few months prior and apparently, being invited to camp was the ultimate form of acceptance. "Fun...I guess", that 's what I thought. I love to camp, but what was the big deal here? What made this such a special invitation?
For me, it's close to 20 years later and that invitation was, indeed, something special. At the time, the big deal about being invited just meant that you were seen as fun enough and responsible enough to go. A friend that could be trusted not to get themselves or anyone else into trouble. Back then, camp was run by the "rents" and the "kids" had to stay out of trouble.
Trust me, we drank...a lot. We laughed...a ton!, Played tricks, dehydrated ourselves, sat by the fire, listened to our fav songs, danced (sometimes on the tables!) and snacked. We learned and played games like Beer Pong, Euchre, 3 Man, Spoons & Asshole. There was "Big Ball" (a game of volley ball with a HUGE ball. I played once, got crushed and decided it was more fun to watch!). We crashed into our tents hours past midnight and woke to have the sun beating down on us, turning our tents into roasting domes. That was because it was close to and sometimes after noon. Even though there were fantastic breakfasts prepared, most of us often missed them because we slept through them.
We also created life-long bonds full of friendship and love. Over the years we grew up, got married, bought houses, had children and our tents have turned into campers with all the luxuries us campees could ever need.
These days the thought of going to Camp is still exciting. The drinking, still happens, though not nearly as much. Seems our bodies and level of responsibilities (children who wake early top the list!) make the thought of a heavy hang-over super scary. The laughter and time spent around the fire with such wonderful friends, almost like family, at night is my favorite.
This new generation of Camp includes us girls planning the menus, prepping and cooking fantastic meals, just as the amazing women before us did. The men now really kick in to help with the prep and clean-up, as well as tending to the children, our children. In the morning, we are awakened by a new kind of sunshine, our little ones. They are excited to wake and start the day...and their equipment! They eat and gear up to ride quads and dirt bikes. It is too cute.
Camp really is a magical place. It's were men become boys and leave the women folk to go and build a fort up on "The Mountain" to protect themselves from bear. This is no joke. They also disappear for hours on end with gallons of water and chainsaws and come back sweaty and happy. Boys and girls leave trails of dust while riding and return with dirt bike face (only the spot where the goggles were is clean). In the past few years a private pond has been added where you can jump off a dock, swim, canoe and soon fish. The women have a chance to sit and chat, sometimes. Often we sit for a bit and then start the prep for the next meal when the hungry people come back. And they ALWAYS come back!! Even though it can be work, I enjoy doing it with my favorite gals. We make amazing meals together and it is always appreciated. Camp, for the most part, is the epitome of teamwork.
The most incredible part of all this is that "Camp" started out as a ride in the country for a father, his wife and their children. I have no idea how long ago that was. Since then, they and countless friends and family have come to gather in this special place to enjoy each other, fine food and God's land. So many have stood to admire the view at peak season in the fall. It serves as a hunting camp as well ( I don't want to know what happens at hunting camp!). Camp has taught many great lessons and served the family well over the years. In the past, potatoes have been grown and harvested as well as Christmas trees. The value of hard work and the dollar it earns was learned. Working together as a family. All four of Larry and Sharon's children have grown and now own a piece of this heaven. There is tradition here.
This weekend I saw the excitement in my children too. All the way there, my littlest kept asking, "Are we at camping yet?". One morning, my oldest little guy, lay in his bed, looking up, hands behind his head and said, "I never want to leave Camp, mommy". I know Bubba, I know just how you feel. I am so greatful for that invitation so many years ago. It has been, by far, the most priceless invite I was ever given.
For me, it's close to 20 years later and that invitation was, indeed, something special. At the time, the big deal about being invited just meant that you were seen as fun enough and responsible enough to go. A friend that could be trusted not to get themselves or anyone else into trouble. Back then, camp was run by the "rents" and the "kids" had to stay out of trouble.
Trust me, we drank...a lot. We laughed...a ton!, Played tricks, dehydrated ourselves, sat by the fire, listened to our fav songs, danced (sometimes on the tables!) and snacked. We learned and played games like Beer Pong, Euchre, 3 Man, Spoons & Asshole. There was "Big Ball" (a game of volley ball with a HUGE ball. I played once, got crushed and decided it was more fun to watch!). We crashed into our tents hours past midnight and woke to have the sun beating down on us, turning our tents into roasting domes. That was because it was close to and sometimes after noon. Even though there were fantastic breakfasts prepared, most of us often missed them because we slept through them.
We also created life-long bonds full of friendship and love. Over the years we grew up, got married, bought houses, had children and our tents have turned into campers with all the luxuries us campees could ever need.
These days the thought of going to Camp is still exciting. The drinking, still happens, though not nearly as much. Seems our bodies and level of responsibilities (children who wake early top the list!) make the thought of a heavy hang-over super scary. The laughter and time spent around the fire with such wonderful friends, almost like family, at night is my favorite.
This new generation of Camp includes us girls planning the menus, prepping and cooking fantastic meals, just as the amazing women before us did. The men now really kick in to help with the prep and clean-up, as well as tending to the children, our children. In the morning, we are awakened by a new kind of sunshine, our little ones. They are excited to wake and start the day...and their equipment! They eat and gear up to ride quads and dirt bikes. It is too cute.
Camp really is a magical place. It's were men become boys and leave the women folk to go and build a fort up on "The Mountain" to protect themselves from bear. This is no joke. They also disappear for hours on end with gallons of water and chainsaws and come back sweaty and happy. Boys and girls leave trails of dust while riding and return with dirt bike face (only the spot where the goggles were is clean). In the past few years a private pond has been added where you can jump off a dock, swim, canoe and soon fish. The women have a chance to sit and chat, sometimes. Often we sit for a bit and then start the prep for the next meal when the hungry people come back. And they ALWAYS come back!! Even though it can be work, I enjoy doing it with my favorite gals. We make amazing meals together and it is always appreciated. Camp, for the most part, is the epitome of teamwork.
The most incredible part of all this is that "Camp" started out as a ride in the country for a father, his wife and their children. I have no idea how long ago that was. Since then, they and countless friends and family have come to gather in this special place to enjoy each other, fine food and God's land. So many have stood to admire the view at peak season in the fall. It serves as a hunting camp as well ( I don't want to know what happens at hunting camp!). Camp has taught many great lessons and served the family well over the years. In the past, potatoes have been grown and harvested as well as Christmas trees. The value of hard work and the dollar it earns was learned. Working together as a family. All four of Larry and Sharon's children have grown and now own a piece of this heaven. There is tradition here.
This weekend I saw the excitement in my children too. All the way there, my littlest kept asking, "Are we at camping yet?". One morning, my oldest little guy, lay in his bed, looking up, hands behind his head and said, "I never want to leave Camp, mommy". I know Bubba, I know just how you feel. I am so greatful for that invitation so many years ago. It has been, by far, the most priceless invite I was ever given.
Monday, May 24, 2010
My Obstacles...My Life
I have been trying to think of how I can continue to write. Clearly, things are not going as I hoped. I haven't given up, it's just been small changes. How do I write about such little things? I don't want to sit here and write about the same, well, almost nothing. But you know what? I started this because I knew I wasn't the only one out there. I wanted to give a voice to all those suffering the same, feeling the same, wanting the same. Those who felt they were all alone. I wanted to be sure to reach out to all of them, you. I wanted to diminish those feelings and inspire others. I wanted to help. I WANT to help. I am not done. Obstacles. That's all. Have you heard the expression, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."? I make Him laugh, daily!
So what's been happening? Simply put, I feel like crap. I hurt. All over. There is a cane next to my bed because when I get up, I can barely walk. Once I start to move a little, it gets better. This happens EVERY TIME I SIT, for any length of time. Sometimes, I just go into the bedroom and flop my upper half onto the bed, feet still on the ground. I do this, because I am in need of a rest, but don't want to sit because getting up can be so painful. I am sure this makes things worse, because I don't allow myself the rest I need. If you know me, it is nearly impossible for me to sit still. I am in constant motion, constant project mode always trying to get that "one more thing in". I am not sure if I wrote about this before, but my husband witnessed just how bad it can get. It was the end of the day, I sat down for a bit. When I got up, I started down the hallway, turned into the bedroom and just flopped into the bed (upper half only again). This all happened in one motion. Stopping once I am in motion is also painful, so I just kept moving until I could "fall" into something. He knew I was hurting, but hadn't seen this before. I got the lecture ("you have to stop, rest, take care of yourself...."). Yeah right.
On top of all this, what I initially thought was a strained muscle in my back turned out to be a pretty nasty infection of the kidney. Three weeks later and I am finally feeling better. This is all so incredibly frustrating, infuriating, to me. Last year at this time I discovered I had a broken foot (that I walked around for a month on without knowing it was broken). Three months of recovery and I thought I was on my way. Until this past fall. I was sick and let it go too far. I was then, very sick. Fluid around my heart and lungs. I was very lucky that I recovered. But, it took, what seemed like, forever to fully recover and my energy level to return to normal. I have only been back to "normal" for a couple of months now. Eager to get on with things, changes. Except now, I feel pretty bad.
I have finally talked with the doctors about the aches and such and I am getting tests done to get to the bottom of it all. I had been putting it off. So far, as of Friday, I have completed almost all the tests requested. Now we wait. I just was hesitant because I don't want to have to take any medications. I hate taking meds. Need to find natural alternatives.
And that brings me to this past weekends events. A couple years ago, I was put on anti-anxiety medication. I had been on something similar for depression in the past, but this time, I was having panic attacks. If you have never had one before...WONDERFUL! They are downright scary! This is the longest I have ever been on anything like this. I tried last year to wean off, against the doctors advise. She thought my life was still a bit "hectic". She said this as I sat in her little examination room with five little children lined up against the wall behind her. She turned to look at them and then back at me again. They were just a fraction of my responsibility (as well as, the most enjoyable). I hate taking the meds. I feel like a failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Get it? Even though, she explained to me that I had an incredible amount of responsibility on my shoulders and it (Lexapro) was a crutch. It was actually healthier for me and my body to be on them than not. At that time, she was right. I decided to stick with it. Since then, things have eased up considerably. I am ready to try again. After taking the last pill. I decided I was done. So, Friday I was fine. Saturday, I thought good. Then Sunday! I woke with a familiar feeling. Jolts. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. I've experienced this before. Last time, I was just too busy to bother taking the meds. That awful feeling was so bad, I don't think I have missed a dose since then. I think I understand why addicts are so willing to get their hands on another fix. The feeling is terrible. You can actually hear your brain "misfiring" I don't know how else to describe it. It sounds like little zaps. And I get a headache and very dizzy...and tired. So I had the script refilled. feeling much better now. I will be properly weaning myself off. I really hope I can be done.
Please, if you are taking something, do not feel as though I think any less of you. You see, for me, I feel as though I should be able to handle things better. I know so many out there that can and do. This is my own hang-up. Also in the back of my head is my mother's voice ridiculing me for having to resort to such measures. In her eyes, counseling was a great sign of weakness on my part. Years later, I discovered that it was more about her own insecurities and not my weakness. Again, my own hang-up. Not yours. I do think that there is a time and place for such aids. I think that they can be very beneficial. I am glad that I accepted and tolerated them over the past few years. I do believe that they made me a better wife, mother and friend at a time when I could have failed so many in my lost and semi-panicked state. Life is for living, not just getting through. If medication helps you to do it, then do it. Let it help you find your way through the mess and see you through to the other side. I would be lying to you if I said I wasn't a bit worried that I am not quite ready. If I am not, I won't wait as long to get help. I am that clear now.
So these are the things happening. Add on the spring factor and all the things that need to get done. I am also the house mechanic and getting our lawn mowers and such up and running is keeping me very busy. Our son has also started baseball and there is piano, school, extra children, etc. In all this, I have been able to keep up on water and drinking unsweetened iced tea (and coffee, of course!). Need to push those fruits and veggies though. I think for some guidance and because a friend is doing it, I will do the South Beach lifestyle. This has been recommended by a couple of my docs. We'll see. One day at a time.
***A side note here. I should also state that taking the medication gave me a sense of clarity that I otherwise would not have had. The meds cleared away the haze and helped me greatly to see things for what they were. It is for this reason alone that I wish I hadn't been so resistant to taking them a long time ago. I can say that I am stronger and more focused. I see what matters, what doesn't and what can go to hell! I'm just sayin'...
So what's been happening? Simply put, I feel like crap. I hurt. All over. There is a cane next to my bed because when I get up, I can barely walk. Once I start to move a little, it gets better. This happens EVERY TIME I SIT, for any length of time. Sometimes, I just go into the bedroom and flop my upper half onto the bed, feet still on the ground. I do this, because I am in need of a rest, but don't want to sit because getting up can be so painful. I am sure this makes things worse, because I don't allow myself the rest I need. If you know me, it is nearly impossible for me to sit still. I am in constant motion, constant project mode always trying to get that "one more thing in". I am not sure if I wrote about this before, but my husband witnessed just how bad it can get. It was the end of the day, I sat down for a bit. When I got up, I started down the hallway, turned into the bedroom and just flopped into the bed (upper half only again). This all happened in one motion. Stopping once I am in motion is also painful, so I just kept moving until I could "fall" into something. He knew I was hurting, but hadn't seen this before. I got the lecture ("you have to stop, rest, take care of yourself...."). Yeah right.
On top of all this, what I initially thought was a strained muscle in my back turned out to be a pretty nasty infection of the kidney. Three weeks later and I am finally feeling better. This is all so incredibly frustrating, infuriating, to me. Last year at this time I discovered I had a broken foot (that I walked around for a month on without knowing it was broken). Three months of recovery and I thought I was on my way. Until this past fall. I was sick and let it go too far. I was then, very sick. Fluid around my heart and lungs. I was very lucky that I recovered. But, it took, what seemed like, forever to fully recover and my energy level to return to normal. I have only been back to "normal" for a couple of months now. Eager to get on with things, changes. Except now, I feel pretty bad.
I have finally talked with the doctors about the aches and such and I am getting tests done to get to the bottom of it all. I had been putting it off. So far, as of Friday, I have completed almost all the tests requested. Now we wait. I just was hesitant because I don't want to have to take any medications. I hate taking meds. Need to find natural alternatives.
And that brings me to this past weekends events. A couple years ago, I was put on anti-anxiety medication. I had been on something similar for depression in the past, but this time, I was having panic attacks. If you have never had one before...WONDERFUL! They are downright scary! This is the longest I have ever been on anything like this. I tried last year to wean off, against the doctors advise. She thought my life was still a bit "hectic". She said this as I sat in her little examination room with five little children lined up against the wall behind her. She turned to look at them and then back at me again. They were just a fraction of my responsibility (as well as, the most enjoyable). I hate taking the meds. I feel like a failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. Get it? Even though, she explained to me that I had an incredible amount of responsibility on my shoulders and it (Lexapro) was a crutch. It was actually healthier for me and my body to be on them than not. At that time, she was right. I decided to stick with it. Since then, things have eased up considerably. I am ready to try again. After taking the last pill. I decided I was done. So, Friday I was fine. Saturday, I thought good. Then Sunday! I woke with a familiar feeling. Jolts. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. I've experienced this before. Last time, I was just too busy to bother taking the meds. That awful feeling was so bad, I don't think I have missed a dose since then. I think I understand why addicts are so willing to get their hands on another fix. The feeling is terrible. You can actually hear your brain "misfiring" I don't know how else to describe it. It sounds like little zaps. And I get a headache and very dizzy...and tired. So I had the script refilled. feeling much better now. I will be properly weaning myself off. I really hope I can be done.
Please, if you are taking something, do not feel as though I think any less of you. You see, for me, I feel as though I should be able to handle things better. I know so many out there that can and do. This is my own hang-up. Also in the back of my head is my mother's voice ridiculing me for having to resort to such measures. In her eyes, counseling was a great sign of weakness on my part. Years later, I discovered that it was more about her own insecurities and not my weakness. Again, my own hang-up. Not yours. I do think that there is a time and place for such aids. I think that they can be very beneficial. I am glad that I accepted and tolerated them over the past few years. I do believe that they made me a better wife, mother and friend at a time when I could have failed so many in my lost and semi-panicked state. Life is for living, not just getting through. If medication helps you to do it, then do it. Let it help you find your way through the mess and see you through to the other side. I would be lying to you if I said I wasn't a bit worried that I am not quite ready. If I am not, I won't wait as long to get help. I am that clear now.
So these are the things happening. Add on the spring factor and all the things that need to get done. I am also the house mechanic and getting our lawn mowers and such up and running is keeping me very busy. Our son has also started baseball and there is piano, school, extra children, etc. In all this, I have been able to keep up on water and drinking unsweetened iced tea (and coffee, of course!). Need to push those fruits and veggies though. I think for some guidance and because a friend is doing it, I will do the South Beach lifestyle. This has been recommended by a couple of my docs. We'll see. One day at a time.
***A side note here. I should also state that taking the medication gave me a sense of clarity that I otherwise would not have had. The meds cleared away the haze and helped me greatly to see things for what they were. It is for this reason alone that I wish I hadn't been so resistant to taking them a long time ago. I can say that I am stronger and more focused. I see what matters, what doesn't and what can go to hell! I'm just sayin'...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Don't Count Me Out Just Yet!
I know, I know. It has been a while. I haven't stopped working towards my goals, just trying to keep up with my frantic pace in life! I have also been feeling a bit under the weather and trying to ignore it all at the same time. I will be confronting all that later this afternoon. In the meantime, I am resting, so I have time to sit and write.
So, as I stated above, I am still making changes for a healthier lifestyle. It hasn't been easy, but I am making progress. No Pepsi (boo-hoo). More water and only unsweetened iced tea for me these past several weeks now. I eat before I leave or prepare myself before we go where I could go and what I could get. No more rushing to order. I have to thank all the fine eating establishments for being VERY patient with me whilst I choose wisely!
If you were in OP last week and on the very same road I traveled at the very same moment, you may have observed something "odd". We had been very busy prepping our house and yard for Emily's upcoming party for her First Communion. This left me with very little time to think about, much less prepare meals for dinner. I had to run out and gather more supplies and decided that I would pick up Arby's for the children on the way home. I did the drive through and proceeded on home. Something strange came over my hand. The smell of the seasoned curly fries possessed it. The next thing I knew, my hand left the steering wheel and attempted to dive into the bag containing the fries!! Hell NO! I pulled the car over. Right there on Milestrip Road (just before Target). Grabbed the bags, got out of the car, walked all the way to the very back, opened the hatch to the minivan and THREW the bags in there!!! HA! Got in the FRONT of the car and drove away. I could still smell them...but I couldn't reach them. In days past, this would not have been the case! I went home and enjoyed my salad (with controlled amounts of dressing) from Olive Garden and less than half of the entree I got to go with it. Proud moment!
So I am still in the game. Just moving slower than I would like to. On the advise of a beautiful and smart little friend of mine, I am going to tear down some walls and address some issues I have been avoiding today. Maybe then I can progress more quickly. I've got great plans for myself and nothing is gonna stop me!!
By the way...2.4 pounds...GONE!!!
So, as I stated above, I am still making changes for a healthier lifestyle. It hasn't been easy, but I am making progress. No Pepsi (boo-hoo). More water and only unsweetened iced tea for me these past several weeks now. I eat before I leave or prepare myself before we go where I could go and what I could get. No more rushing to order. I have to thank all the fine eating establishments for being VERY patient with me whilst I choose wisely!
If you were in OP last week and on the very same road I traveled at the very same moment, you may have observed something "odd". We had been very busy prepping our house and yard for Emily's upcoming party for her First Communion. This left me with very little time to think about, much less prepare meals for dinner. I had to run out and gather more supplies and decided that I would pick up Arby's for the children on the way home. I did the drive through and proceeded on home. Something strange came over my hand. The smell of the seasoned curly fries possessed it. The next thing I knew, my hand left the steering wheel and attempted to dive into the bag containing the fries!! Hell NO! I pulled the car over. Right there on Milestrip Road (just before Target). Grabbed the bags, got out of the car, walked all the way to the very back, opened the hatch to the minivan and THREW the bags in there!!! HA! Got in the FRONT of the car and drove away. I could still smell them...but I couldn't reach them. In days past, this would not have been the case! I went home and enjoyed my salad (with controlled amounts of dressing) from Olive Garden and less than half of the entree I got to go with it. Proud moment!
So I am still in the game. Just moving slower than I would like to. On the advise of a beautiful and smart little friend of mine, I am going to tear down some walls and address some issues I have been avoiding today. Maybe then I can progress more quickly. I've got great plans for myself and nothing is gonna stop me!!
By the way...2.4 pounds...GONE!!!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Lucky Girl
Feeling sexy is: walking into your local Tractor Supply store, dressed for a fancy evening out. Whoa Doggie! Did we turn heads! Felt good! Damn good! I knew what they were all thinking...men were drooling as I reached up to select the proper air filter for my lawn tractor (without any help). In their minds, they were watching in slow motion. Darn! I should have shaken my sexy hair for them as I pulled the filter from it's peg. All this attention made me fergit my big girl status for a bit. Seriously though. I knew what they were all really thinking. "What in tarnation?!? Somebody help those folks. They're lost and think this is one of dem there cute little novelty shops!"
That is not how we intended our evening to play out. There was an installation dinner being held for our fire company. For as long as I have been a member, it has always been held at a nearby country club. Not this year. And somehow, I missed the change. Which is crazy, because change doesn't happen easily or without a lot of noise there. Don't get me wrong, it is a wonderful organization filled with compassionate and courageous people, but, as in most the same, what is done (for the most part!) is always done the same! So, after hubby dropped me off at the pretty big white doors, I waited outside for him to return to me after parking the car. As he approached, I noticed him, really noticed him. He was walking towards me, one hand in his pocket. which pushed his jacket to the side and I thought to myself, "I am a lucky girl." And it was that moment right there that determined how the rest of the evening would play out.
Together, we walked in and I was hit with an odd feeling. Where were all my girls? The men? Scanning the room, nothing was familiar. We asked a staff member about our party and he informed us that it was not there. Walking out the big pretty white doors my mind was spinning. "Think! Think! What was said, what did you miss?" I knew that we had the date right. There had been a lot of chatter leading up to tonight. I assured Jim that, yes! It is tonight, people were posting like mad about it on Facebook. I called the only cell number I could remember at that point and of course no answer. How could she answer over all the laughter, conversation and with a drink in her hand? Come on! I know...call home(to check the machine)...darn it! Emily must have left the phone off the hook after calling Dzia to confirm their plans for the evening. Smart girl. Confirm your plans! So that was it. We were done. Going home to check the pile of mail for the newsletter (I never read) that could contain the location of this most special event was out of the question, since it would make us too late.
"Where do you want to go for dinner?" James asks me. "I am sorry." I tell him. "For what?" he replies. "For not paying more attention. What about Olive Garden?". As deflated as we both felt that our plans fell through, we both knew we couldn't let this evening go to waste. The kids were staying over at their Bousha & Dzia Dzia's (Grandparents) house overnight. We were free! The headache I had been nursing all day had gone away and we were both exhausted from the week's work and such, but going home was not an option. Besides, we were both all gussied up!
As we were about to pass it , we decided to drop off two old tractor batteries that we in the car at Tractor Supply. I had been working on getting our lawn tractors up and running this week. I also needed a new air filter. As I previously stated, it was a pretty humorous event. I was paying for the multi-tool we found for Ethan and new ball for the hitch when I suddenly realize, "I forgot the filter!". Jim says, "I'll get the car." This is how our marriage runs. I'm Mrs. Fixit and he's my Mr. I"ll Dowhateveryouneedjusttellme. It works. So off I went to the isle to retrieve my filter, where I helped another gentleman pick his out, paid for my newest item and left. Knowing that the whole time the guy at the register was scratching his head over our visit.
On our way to OG, we were joking about our trip to TS. I commented on how over my past few visits there this week, I observed several people with an accent, the southern type. I wondered why. This made Jim slip into his "farmer Jim" accent. I told him how nice I thought he looked tonight and commented that people in the store were wondering how I ever snagged him. He laughed and reminded me that he always has thought I was well out of his league. Jokingly, I said, "Yep! And so you made me fat so you never had to worry about another looker!" In the "Farmer Jim" accent, he replied, "Yeah, I like my women like I like my farm animals. Fat and happy!" We both laughed. And this is so not true! We both know I outweigh him by quite a bit (bastard that can eat anything!) and this is something he never imagined he would desire. But I was able to laugh with him about it. He loves me. No matter what. I was becoming more comfortable in my own skin. The hate for myself, my body is disappearing. And while that shows nothing on the scale, it shows a lot for my image of my self worth.
That has been happening more and more over the past month or so. Getting dressed is not as hard as it used to be. Acceptance. Knowing that I am changing. Understanding that it will take time. Acceptance even as I look in the mirror. It's all good.
So we went to Olive Garden. We talked without any interruptions other than our waitress checking in to see that we had everything we needed. There was real conversation (no spelling out words, editing, implying). Real listening. Real understanding. Refocus and re-center. Remarkably, the same thing had been on both of our minds lately. It was an event that happened last fall and we both had been thinking about it. It wasn't anything between us, but something that hurt us both deeply. We reassured each other and enjoyed our meal together. In the end, I knew we really do get each other.
What could have been a disastrous evening, turned out to be something quite wonderful and truly needed. Life is funny that way sometimes. Last night we just rolled with the punches and everything was alright. Starting with the moment my DH was walking toward me and I noted what a lucky girl I was. I am.
That is not how we intended our evening to play out. There was an installation dinner being held for our fire company. For as long as I have been a member, it has always been held at a nearby country club. Not this year. And somehow, I missed the change. Which is crazy, because change doesn't happen easily or without a lot of noise there. Don't get me wrong, it is a wonderful organization filled with compassionate and courageous people, but, as in most the same, what is done (for the most part!) is always done the same! So, after hubby dropped me off at the pretty big white doors, I waited outside for him to return to me after parking the car. As he approached, I noticed him, really noticed him. He was walking towards me, one hand in his pocket. which pushed his jacket to the side and I thought to myself, "I am a lucky girl." And it was that moment right there that determined how the rest of the evening would play out.
Together, we walked in and I was hit with an odd feeling. Where were all my girls? The men? Scanning the room, nothing was familiar. We asked a staff member about our party and he informed us that it was not there. Walking out the big pretty white doors my mind was spinning. "Think! Think! What was said, what did you miss?" I knew that we had the date right. There had been a lot of chatter leading up to tonight. I assured Jim that, yes! It is tonight, people were posting like mad about it on Facebook. I called the only cell number I could remember at that point and of course no answer. How could she answer over all the laughter, conversation and with a drink in her hand? Come on! I know...call home(to check the machine)...darn it! Emily must have left the phone off the hook after calling Dzia to confirm their plans for the evening. Smart girl. Confirm your plans! So that was it. We were done. Going home to check the pile of mail for the newsletter (I never read) that could contain the location of this most special event was out of the question, since it would make us too late.
"Where do you want to go for dinner?" James asks me. "I am sorry." I tell him. "For what?" he replies. "For not paying more attention. What about Olive Garden?". As deflated as we both felt that our plans fell through, we both knew we couldn't let this evening go to waste. The kids were staying over at their Bousha & Dzia Dzia's (Grandparents) house overnight. We were free! The headache I had been nursing all day had gone away and we were both exhausted from the week's work and such, but going home was not an option. Besides, we were both all gussied up!
As we were about to pass it , we decided to drop off two old tractor batteries that we in the car at Tractor Supply. I had been working on getting our lawn tractors up and running this week. I also needed a new air filter. As I previously stated, it was a pretty humorous event. I was paying for the multi-tool we found for Ethan and new ball for the hitch when I suddenly realize, "I forgot the filter!". Jim says, "I'll get the car." This is how our marriage runs. I'm Mrs. Fixit and he's my Mr. I"ll Dowhateveryouneedjusttellme. It works. So off I went to the isle to retrieve my filter, where I helped another gentleman pick his out, paid for my newest item and left. Knowing that the whole time the guy at the register was scratching his head over our visit.
On our way to OG, we were joking about our trip to TS. I commented on how over my past few visits there this week, I observed several people with an accent, the southern type. I wondered why. This made Jim slip into his "farmer Jim" accent. I told him how nice I thought he looked tonight and commented that people in the store were wondering how I ever snagged him. He laughed and reminded me that he always has thought I was well out of his league. Jokingly, I said, "Yep! And so you made me fat so you never had to worry about another looker!" In the "Farmer Jim" accent, he replied, "Yeah, I like my women like I like my farm animals. Fat and happy!" We both laughed. And this is so not true! We both know I outweigh him by quite a bit (bastard that can eat anything!) and this is something he never imagined he would desire. But I was able to laugh with him about it. He loves me. No matter what. I was becoming more comfortable in my own skin. The hate for myself, my body is disappearing. And while that shows nothing on the scale, it shows a lot for my image of my self worth.
That has been happening more and more over the past month or so. Getting dressed is not as hard as it used to be. Acceptance. Knowing that I am changing. Understanding that it will take time. Acceptance even as I look in the mirror. It's all good.
So we went to Olive Garden. We talked without any interruptions other than our waitress checking in to see that we had everything we needed. There was real conversation (no spelling out words, editing, implying). Real listening. Real understanding. Refocus and re-center. Remarkably, the same thing had been on both of our minds lately. It was an event that happened last fall and we both had been thinking about it. It wasn't anything between us, but something that hurt us both deeply. We reassured each other and enjoyed our meal together. In the end, I knew we really do get each other.
What could have been a disastrous evening, turned out to be something quite wonderful and truly needed. Life is funny that way sometimes. Last night we just rolled with the punches and everything was alright. Starting with the moment my DH was walking toward me and I noted what a lucky girl I was. I am.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Pushing Through
Can't sleep. It is 5:30 am and I have been laying in bed, awake since before 3am. This has been going on for awhile. I wake up with my joints aching and can't get back to sleep. I lay there rotating my ankles and stretching my feet and legs out. The lower joint pain has been going on for a long time, what's more recent is the ALL OVER joint paint. I have decided to go with the cortisone shots. I have been putting this off for a year now. I kept thinking, "just let me get some of this weight off and I am sure I'll find some relief." Nope. There seems to be this vicious cycle going on. I attempt to work out and my joints hurt so badly, I stop. Do some yard work and at the end of the night, I am in so much pain. As long as I am in motion, it's not so bad. It's when I stop. I sit there dreading having to get up because the pain is rough. The medicine I have been prescribed is no help at all. So I will have them inject my foot area with the hopes that I can at least tolerate exercise as well as normal daily activity. That's the plan for now.
This hasn't changed my plans for a healthier me though. I still haven't lost my first five, but that's alright. I am still learning. Yesterday, something amazing happened...I was in this house WITHOUT a single child! OMG! Great! Because I was on a mission. Fix the lawn mower. So for the most part, while I was child-free, I was removing parts, looking up parts, shopping for parts. The children arrived just in time for me to reinstall the parts. I fixed the lawn mower! So, of course, I HAD to mow the lawn, which turned into raking the yard, trimming and burning sticks. Before I knew it, it was 8pm. Nobody had eaten dinner. Because nobody fixed dinner. So, we went out for dinner. I should also mention that I hadn't eaten all day. This is typical for me when I don't pay attention. I just keep going and try to squeeze in everything I can, except time for me to nourish myself. I'll stop to feed the kids, but then, I jump right back into what I was doing. In my mind, there is no time to stop. My life is constantly in a you never know what is going to happen state. So I try to make the most of the time I have.
We went to Applebee's. All I could think of on the way there was the Chicken Quesadilla. I was so hungry I could taste it. Never mind the wonderful healthier menu choices they have. My hunger took over. My mind agreed. Chicken Quesadilla it is. Oh, but then, my sister ordered French Onion soup. A favorite of mine. I almost ordered a salad and at the last minute, my deprived belly called out, "I'll have the French onion too, please!". Darn it! I had been doing so much better. I don't even allow myself pop any more. I hate diet pop and I am pretty touchy about water. Too many times I order water, only to find it tastes awful and inevitably drink from my hubby's glass or order pop. However, I have always loved unsweetened iced tea and order that where it is available. I ordered it last night as well. It so refreshing.
I understand that the queadilla was not the best choice. But the addition of the French Onion soup was just bad. So, it came out and I looked down at it and ate two spoonfuls and pushed it off to the side. I couldn't do it. I knew I ordered without thinking it through better. I was already treating myself to a dinner out and quesadillas. That was enough and I needed to be in control. My daughter discovered that she likes French onion soup too. She really enjoyed it and I was content with that.
Thinking back, I was extremely thirsty when I first started dreaming about what I would eat. I should have stopped and had some water before we left. I was also extremely hungry (remember, no food ALL day). We always have plenty of fruit in the house. I should have grabbed a banana or something to eat on the way. Even a handful of nuts would have been smart. I'm not beating myself up over this though. Although what I did was mindless at first, I did stop and think about it before eating the soup. That's progress in my book. I see the importance of eating throughout the day.
My life is crazy busy. That's not going to change any time soon. It is a pace I am comfortable with and don't know if I could function any other way. Small changes, tweaking here and there is the way I need to do this. I have met several challenges in the short time I have been doing this, all of them taking me to a new level. I'll find my way through this most recent challenge (joint issues), but it doesn't mean I have to stop what I am doing. There are so many changes that I have to make if I want this to be a life long change. Working out is important, but it is not the only key to success. My success.
I would like to acknowledge a friend here for her great efforts in working out. Way to go Mishelle!!! I think of you all the time and how awesome you must be feeling in every way! Soon enough, I will be on your tail girl!! So proud and so thankful to call you friend! And another I am thankful to call friend, Ironmamma! Ride like the wind baby!
This hasn't changed my plans for a healthier me though. I still haven't lost my first five, but that's alright. I am still learning. Yesterday, something amazing happened...I was in this house WITHOUT a single child! OMG! Great! Because I was on a mission. Fix the lawn mower. So for the most part, while I was child-free, I was removing parts, looking up parts, shopping for parts. The children arrived just in time for me to reinstall the parts. I fixed the lawn mower! So, of course, I HAD to mow the lawn, which turned into raking the yard, trimming and burning sticks. Before I knew it, it was 8pm. Nobody had eaten dinner. Because nobody fixed dinner. So, we went out for dinner. I should also mention that I hadn't eaten all day. This is typical for me when I don't pay attention. I just keep going and try to squeeze in everything I can, except time for me to nourish myself. I'll stop to feed the kids, but then, I jump right back into what I was doing. In my mind, there is no time to stop. My life is constantly in a you never know what is going to happen state. So I try to make the most of the time I have.
We went to Applebee's. All I could think of on the way there was the Chicken Quesadilla. I was so hungry I could taste it. Never mind the wonderful healthier menu choices they have. My hunger took over. My mind agreed. Chicken Quesadilla it is. Oh, but then, my sister ordered French Onion soup. A favorite of mine. I almost ordered a salad and at the last minute, my deprived belly called out, "I'll have the French onion too, please!". Darn it! I had been doing so much better. I don't even allow myself pop any more. I hate diet pop and I am pretty touchy about water. Too many times I order water, only to find it tastes awful and inevitably drink from my hubby's glass or order pop. However, I have always loved unsweetened iced tea and order that where it is available. I ordered it last night as well. It so refreshing.
I understand that the queadilla was not the best choice. But the addition of the French Onion soup was just bad. So, it came out and I looked down at it and ate two spoonfuls and pushed it off to the side. I couldn't do it. I knew I ordered without thinking it through better. I was already treating myself to a dinner out and quesadillas. That was enough and I needed to be in control. My daughter discovered that she likes French onion soup too. She really enjoyed it and I was content with that.
Thinking back, I was extremely thirsty when I first started dreaming about what I would eat. I should have stopped and had some water before we left. I was also extremely hungry (remember, no food ALL day). We always have plenty of fruit in the house. I should have grabbed a banana or something to eat on the way. Even a handful of nuts would have been smart. I'm not beating myself up over this though. Although what I did was mindless at first, I did stop and think about it before eating the soup. That's progress in my book. I see the importance of eating throughout the day.
My life is crazy busy. That's not going to change any time soon. It is a pace I am comfortable with and don't know if I could function any other way. Small changes, tweaking here and there is the way I need to do this. I have met several challenges in the short time I have been doing this, all of them taking me to a new level. I'll find my way through this most recent challenge (joint issues), but it doesn't mean I have to stop what I am doing. There are so many changes that I have to make if I want this to be a life long change. Working out is important, but it is not the only key to success. My success.
I would like to acknowledge a friend here for her great efforts in working out. Way to go Mishelle!!! I think of you all the time and how awesome you must be feeling in every way! Soon enough, I will be on your tail girl!! So proud and so thankful to call you friend! And another I am thankful to call friend, Ironmamma! Ride like the wind baby!
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