I know it's been along time since I've posted. I may be speaking only to myself, but if even one person reads this and benefits in even the smallest way, it is worth it. It's worth it, even if not, for as a writer, I am compelled, audience or no.:-)
Much has happened in the past two, almost three years, but rather than try to catch you up on everything, suffice it to say last year, 2011 was very challenging in that I broke my foot and almost died from an untreated condition whilst in hospital. From about September on, I have been slowly improving from the aftereffects of their negligence. I am here now due to a couple of brilliant doctors and my own belief in the Creator within. Which brings me to some stupendous healing news:
About three weeks ago, I received an email from one of those docs. It had his suggestions and observations of a sleep study report which was faxed to him. His take on things was scary, but encouraging. After an initial panic, I decided to watch something light and funny on Netflix, until my husband came home that night from work, to get my mind off of the scary parts.
As I watched the marquee on the Netflix home page scroll by with suggestions, the first one I saw was called " Fat, Sick, And Nearly Dead." It felt as though I was getting a cosmic message, so I watched it.
It's a documentary by an Australian man who was very wealthy and successful and had put on about an extra 100 pounds as he partied his way to the top. He decided to make a 60 day journey across America on a complete juice fast with a doctor's supervision. Along the way, he spoke to people about food, diet, their health, what he was doing and he inspired a lot of people. There's much more to it than that but, the thing that made so much sense to me was he piled high a big platter with the recommended daily allowance of fresh fruits and vegetables and asked if viewers could ever see themselves eating that much in one day. Of course he said no he couldn't, but he could certainly drink the juice made from them. There was a lot of information about micro-nutrients and a lot of input from physicians and nutritionists. There is a whole movement now in Australia and in the United States called Reboot Your Life. You can learn more about it at www.jointhereboot.com.
I knew I didn't want to do a complete fast, especially just on my own, but three weeks ago this past Sunday I started making freshly extracted juice from fruits and vegetables. I've been drinking from 24 to 32 ounces per day and have lost 5 pounds in three weeks while still eating my usual, regular meals. The doctors who have seen me, including a idney specialist, have all said my colour has greatly improved and I have noticed a big change in how I feel and even in how I intake supplemental oxygen. It doesn't feel so desperate now.
For years, I have tried to do everything medical science has recommended, but the one thing I knew I had turned over, mostly to my husband, Roger, was preparation of my own food. I knew deep down that it was important for me to take more of a responsibility for what I put in my body. Last year I made a contract with my body by promising it I would do everything I could to help it out. Until three weeks ago, when I feel I really took charge, I felt defeated and as though I was spinning my wheels not getting very far with weight loss and exercise.
The other thing I pledged to myself three weeks ago was to practice qi gong and do morning meditation at least Monday through Friday. I'm happy to say, I have stuck with both. This week will be my fourth week.
There is one other good thing which happened, recently, but I'll save that for the next post.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Affirmation
Just wanted to share an affirmation a friend, a wise woman, gave to me, today:
My blessed I AM presence is present in my whole being and, I shall reflect that in my whole life process.
That just about covers everything and is something I will be working with for the next while.
To my few followers...thanks for being here and please accept my apology for not keeping this up. It's been an interesting and long year. I would post more, but putting private stuff out here, any more, seems a bit scary. Time for more reflection. Thanks for your understanding.
My blessed I AM presence is present in my whole being and, I shall reflect that in my whole life process.
That just about covers everything and is something I will be working with for the next while.
To my few followers...thanks for being here and please accept my apology for not keeping this up. It's been an interesting and long year. I would post more, but putting private stuff out here, any more, seems a bit scary. Time for more reflection. Thanks for your understanding.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Why I Hated Camping at Nighttime
While a friend online has been relating her journey, almost daily, through surgery and chemo for ovarian and uterine cancer, bringing us all to tears, laughter, great joy and awe at her courage, I have had a very difficult time trying to put get up the energy to put two words together about my own challenges this year. I admire her fortitude and recognize that there is a time for everything...as I cannot sleep and the Muse has sort of struck, again and finally, here I am. It's been awhile and will take a while to catch things up, so I'll give an abridged edition for now and get to the reason for the title of this entry.
As for the treatment of depression, I have been off of zoloft for some time now. The only thing I take, at all, is xanax at night, but even that is becoming less frequent. I continue with biofeedback which has been really helpful, remembering those good, slow and steady deep breaths which kick in the right sympathetic system enabling me to sleep a wee bit longer and deeper than in previous times. I also continue to see the therapist who is very insightful and a delight to work with...he has helped me a lot when it comes to our kids. Our son, who is an alcoholic, had a breakdown and had to come live in our backyard in a small travel trailer which is full of storage items. Our daughter, the Grandson's mom, had forbidden him to be around his uncle, so it's been interesting, however, the Son In Law, whom I had pegged a bit wrongly, came through and sorted that out a bit, so the twain may now meet without any of us suffering her wrath. There are various other things going on with our son, but this catches you up, at least, sort of, right?:-)
So, why did I hate camping at night when I was a kid? Or, for that matter, now, if I were to try it? I always froze! I have always had a difficult time generating my own heat, probably because of a leaky heart valve, now repaired, but still has to work a bit hard at times. I was the youngest and my family loved to go camping. I did, too, but come nighttime, I dreaded climbing into pyjamas, taking off my shoes, and climbing into a thin sleeping bag with every little sharp pebble a mountain could produce poking me in the back, legs, shoulders, and arms. I don't know why I never said anything, but I do not remember ever having done so. In speaking with one of my sisters, recently, she couldn't remember my having ever said anything, either. She did wonder why I was always given the thinnest, least expensive sleeping bag to use and I thought it was because I was the youngest. Mom and Dad didn't even have sleeping bags until we were all almost raised. All I remember them having was a biggish bedroll and their own tent which my dad designed and mom sewed. It was ingenious. Shaped much like a tepee with a big loop at the top and a floor attached, the entire thing made from canvas. One had only to put a rope through the loop, climb a tree and secure the one end of the rope and repeat the process on an opposite tree. Then attached tent pegs to the loops sewn in round the bottom and voilà! One easy tent, theoretically. I don't remember it being that simple, but I think mom and dad were rather proud of it; the regular tent they'd had never pitched right and never stayed up, especially in the wind and rain. I have no idea how in the world my mom sewed unless by hand. It was too large, I think for her regular and only Elna sewing machine. Dad was brilliant when it came to designing and drawing out plans in his welding business, so he just transferred those skills to the tent design.
Dad hated pitching a tent. In the high Colorado Rockies there's a lot of rock under the dirt and, in those days, one didn't just give a tent a snap and have it pop up. It was made of canvas with wooden or aluminum poles and tent pegs and never fit together quite right on the first try. Someone would have to stand inside with the centre support pole stuffed up in the middle and try to lift the whole thing up whilst those on the outside scurried round to set the side poles which ran parallel to the ground, then connected with slanted vertical poles which one then secured in the ground with tent stakes through ropes with loops. Along each side and the back and front there were also loops attached directly to the tent which had to be staked. I forgot to say, none of this occurred until a trench had been dug all the way round where the tent would be pitched. This was to catch rain water to keep it from getting the inside of the tent, meaning us and all of our gear, wet. It always rains in the Rockies in the summer, you can count on it, every afternoon. Then the sun usually would come out, the little birds would renew their singing, the blue jays and camp robbers would scold us for food, the dog would go dig up an old pancake he'd buried, and we kids would resume our playing in the crick (that's "creek" to most folks)and mom would start thinking what to cook up for supper. Sometimes, though, the rain didn't go away. It would fall from giant cloud buckets stuck on the tips of the mountains, rivulets of cold water running wherever they found channels and invariably some would find a small breech or two in our trench, our moat of piled dirt, overrun it and commence an icy rinsing of anything in their paths: us, the poor dog, our clothes, sleeping bags, books, etc. Those nights we'd repair to the car and Dad's truck with the welding rig on the back. That was the one great thing about it...Dad could always start a fire no matter how wet the wood might get using his welding torch, however it was a sorry son-of-a-b who didn't remember to put dry wood away in the trunk of the car, under the truck or otherwise dry spot just for such emergencies. Being native Coloradans and longtime campers, mom and dad never forgot to keep some wood dry. I suppose it was partly, too, that they neither one did well without their morning coffee.
I loved the rain...the afternoon rain was usually gentle which grew into a a crescendo of raucous downpour tapering off to slight sprinkles, just enough to settle the dust and leave a delightful fresh scent. If it kept up for awhile, it was perfect reading-in-the-tent weather, especially if one was into Poe, Christie, and M.R.James stories. It often included mood-setting lightning and thunder which fuelled the imagination even more.
I still loved the rain at night,too, but NOT in the tent. If I thought I was cold before, it was nothing compared to being cold AND wet. Still, I don't remember saying anything. I remember thin socks, cold feet, cold nose poking out of my jacket which had a hood. I remember thinking the dog must be cold, too, and gave him my older jacket which no longer fit me. In Best Kid's Dog fashion, he put up with his front legs being stuffed in the arms and the hood being propped up over his ears, sitting in front of the campfire. He must've been roasting, but a picture of him shows a valiant smile just for his kids.
In the daytime, braving the early morning chill to run out to the campfire which mom or dad had already started going for the day, I have a memory which lingers even today, of their hot coffee scenting the air. I loved camping. After a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon, the day held adventures, surprises, and untold peace and beauty which I craved and loved. My sisters and I would launch sailboats made of bark, twigs and paper sails in the crick, wading in our bare feet until the crisp mountain water became too cold, following our adventurous vessels, watching them take off, swirl in a maelstrom eddy just like the Argonauts, then catch the Express channel, rapidly bobbing beyond our reach. We would sit on the edge, then, and dig our toes into the squishy, soothing warmed-by-sunlight sand, the water so clear, the sunshine so bright, the pebbles in the water shown like a queen's gems and they were, to me, the most precious because they were Nature's gems.
Somewhere on one of those camping trips, when I was fairly young, probably about 5 or 6, I asked my dad as we walked along in the forest, why people thought they had to go in a church to talk to God; why didn't they just come outside to the forest. He told me he didn't know, but the forest and its critters were a good enough place as anywhere he knew and I have never disagreed with his assessment.
After a lunch of sandwiches and chips, my brother and sisters might go for a hike, taking the dog with them. If we were running low on ice for the ice box or other supplies, we might all pile in the car and drive to the nearest town.
Staying in camp, in the warm afternoon, with the noon sun still fairly high in the sky, the tent would get too warm, so I'd find a cool granite boulder to sit upon with a good book. Sometimes we would all go for hikes, but I couldn't keep up very well, being so much younger, so I tried to stay in camp as often as possible. If I were lucky, I'd have a bag of salted sunflower seeds and maybe a bottle of coca cola along with a new Classics Illustrated Comic to while away an hour or two. My clothes would be dry, the sleeping bags hanging out in the sun and there'd be no rain. I'd find a special flower for my mom, remembering it was against the law to pick a columbine, the state flower, but bring her others for a paper cup vase of water on the picnic table. The days were great and even the evening as we'd gather around the campfire first for supper, then later for hot cocoa and toasted bread. We would sing, dad played his banjo or fiddle and it was a very idyllic time until time for bed. When I had to leave that fire warmth, crawl into a now cold sleeping bag, toss and turn dodging more poking pebbles which seemed to have sprung up during the day, when the sun suddenly fell behind the mountains and night came on, I was reminded why I hated camping at night...I became another chilled-child-in a nylon-with-little-flannel sleeping bag, either too afraid to speak out or not aware of it being an option. My family were not mean beyond some teasing about being the "baby" now and then. Perhaps it was that, but I do know the thought of telling anyone I hated that sleeping bag and always froze just never crossed my mind. Wonder if the therapist will make something of that in our play on family dynamics!*smile* Thanks for reading!
As for the treatment of depression, I have been off of zoloft for some time now. The only thing I take, at all, is xanax at night, but even that is becoming less frequent. I continue with biofeedback which has been really helpful, remembering those good, slow and steady deep breaths which kick in the right sympathetic system enabling me to sleep a wee bit longer and deeper than in previous times. I also continue to see the therapist who is very insightful and a delight to work with...he has helped me a lot when it comes to our kids. Our son, who is an alcoholic, had a breakdown and had to come live in our backyard in a small travel trailer which is full of storage items. Our daughter, the Grandson's mom, had forbidden him to be around his uncle, so it's been interesting, however, the Son In Law, whom I had pegged a bit wrongly, came through and sorted that out a bit, so the twain may now meet without any of us suffering her wrath. There are various other things going on with our son, but this catches you up, at least, sort of, right?:-)
So, why did I hate camping at night when I was a kid? Or, for that matter, now, if I were to try it? I always froze! I have always had a difficult time generating my own heat, probably because of a leaky heart valve, now repaired, but still has to work a bit hard at times. I was the youngest and my family loved to go camping. I did, too, but come nighttime, I dreaded climbing into pyjamas, taking off my shoes, and climbing into a thin sleeping bag with every little sharp pebble a mountain could produce poking me in the back, legs, shoulders, and arms. I don't know why I never said anything, but I do not remember ever having done so. In speaking with one of my sisters, recently, she couldn't remember my having ever said anything, either. She did wonder why I was always given the thinnest, least expensive sleeping bag to use and I thought it was because I was the youngest. Mom and Dad didn't even have sleeping bags until we were all almost raised. All I remember them having was a biggish bedroll and their own tent which my dad designed and mom sewed. It was ingenious. Shaped much like a tepee with a big loop at the top and a floor attached, the entire thing made from canvas. One had only to put a rope through the loop, climb a tree and secure the one end of the rope and repeat the process on an opposite tree. Then attached tent pegs to the loops sewn in round the bottom and voilà! One easy tent, theoretically. I don't remember it being that simple, but I think mom and dad were rather proud of it; the regular tent they'd had never pitched right and never stayed up, especially in the wind and rain. I have no idea how in the world my mom sewed unless by hand. It was too large, I think for her regular and only Elna sewing machine. Dad was brilliant when it came to designing and drawing out plans in his welding business, so he just transferred those skills to the tent design.
Dad hated pitching a tent. In the high Colorado Rockies there's a lot of rock under the dirt and, in those days, one didn't just give a tent a snap and have it pop up. It was made of canvas with wooden or aluminum poles and tent pegs and never fit together quite right on the first try. Someone would have to stand inside with the centre support pole stuffed up in the middle and try to lift the whole thing up whilst those on the outside scurried round to set the side poles which ran parallel to the ground, then connected with slanted vertical poles which one then secured in the ground with tent stakes through ropes with loops. Along each side and the back and front there were also loops attached directly to the tent which had to be staked. I forgot to say, none of this occurred until a trench had been dug all the way round where the tent would be pitched. This was to catch rain water to keep it from getting the inside of the tent, meaning us and all of our gear, wet. It always rains in the Rockies in the summer, you can count on it, every afternoon. Then the sun usually would come out, the little birds would renew their singing, the blue jays and camp robbers would scold us for food, the dog would go dig up an old pancake he'd buried, and we kids would resume our playing in the crick (that's "creek" to most folks)and mom would start thinking what to cook up for supper. Sometimes, though, the rain didn't go away. It would fall from giant cloud buckets stuck on the tips of the mountains, rivulets of cold water running wherever they found channels and invariably some would find a small breech or two in our trench, our moat of piled dirt, overrun it and commence an icy rinsing of anything in their paths: us, the poor dog, our clothes, sleeping bags, books, etc. Those nights we'd repair to the car and Dad's truck with the welding rig on the back. That was the one great thing about it...Dad could always start a fire no matter how wet the wood might get using his welding torch, however it was a sorry son-of-a-b who didn't remember to put dry wood away in the trunk of the car, under the truck or otherwise dry spot just for such emergencies. Being native Coloradans and longtime campers, mom and dad never forgot to keep some wood dry. I suppose it was partly, too, that they neither one did well without their morning coffee.
I loved the rain...the afternoon rain was usually gentle which grew into a a crescendo of raucous downpour tapering off to slight sprinkles, just enough to settle the dust and leave a delightful fresh scent. If it kept up for awhile, it was perfect reading-in-the-tent weather, especially if one was into Poe, Christie, and M.R.James stories. It often included mood-setting lightning and thunder which fuelled the imagination even more.
I still loved the rain at night,too, but NOT in the tent. If I thought I was cold before, it was nothing compared to being cold AND wet. Still, I don't remember saying anything. I remember thin socks, cold feet, cold nose poking out of my jacket which had a hood. I remember thinking the dog must be cold, too, and gave him my older jacket which no longer fit me. In Best Kid's Dog fashion, he put up with his front legs being stuffed in the arms and the hood being propped up over his ears, sitting in front of the campfire. He must've been roasting, but a picture of him shows a valiant smile just for his kids.
In the daytime, braving the early morning chill to run out to the campfire which mom or dad had already started going for the day, I have a memory which lingers even today, of their hot coffee scenting the air. I loved camping. After a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon, the day held adventures, surprises, and untold peace and beauty which I craved and loved. My sisters and I would launch sailboats made of bark, twigs and paper sails in the crick, wading in our bare feet until the crisp mountain water became too cold, following our adventurous vessels, watching them take off, swirl in a maelstrom eddy just like the Argonauts, then catch the Express channel, rapidly bobbing beyond our reach. We would sit on the edge, then, and dig our toes into the squishy, soothing warmed-by-sunlight sand, the water so clear, the sunshine so bright, the pebbles in the water shown like a queen's gems and they were, to me, the most precious because they were Nature's gems.
Somewhere on one of those camping trips, when I was fairly young, probably about 5 or 6, I asked my dad as we walked along in the forest, why people thought they had to go in a church to talk to God; why didn't they just come outside to the forest. He told me he didn't know, but the forest and its critters were a good enough place as anywhere he knew and I have never disagreed with his assessment.
After a lunch of sandwiches and chips, my brother and sisters might go for a hike, taking the dog with them. If we were running low on ice for the ice box or other supplies, we might all pile in the car and drive to the nearest town.
Staying in camp, in the warm afternoon, with the noon sun still fairly high in the sky, the tent would get too warm, so I'd find a cool granite boulder to sit upon with a good book. Sometimes we would all go for hikes, but I couldn't keep up very well, being so much younger, so I tried to stay in camp as often as possible. If I were lucky, I'd have a bag of salted sunflower seeds and maybe a bottle of coca cola along with a new Classics Illustrated Comic to while away an hour or two. My clothes would be dry, the sleeping bags hanging out in the sun and there'd be no rain. I'd find a special flower for my mom, remembering it was against the law to pick a columbine, the state flower, but bring her others for a paper cup vase of water on the picnic table. The days were great and even the evening as we'd gather around the campfire first for supper, then later for hot cocoa and toasted bread. We would sing, dad played his banjo or fiddle and it was a very idyllic time until time for bed. When I had to leave that fire warmth, crawl into a now cold sleeping bag, toss and turn dodging more poking pebbles which seemed to have sprung up during the day, when the sun suddenly fell behind the mountains and night came on, I was reminded why I hated camping at night...I became another chilled-child-in a nylon-with-little-flannel sleeping bag, either too afraid to speak out or not aware of it being an option. My family were not mean beyond some teasing about being the "baby" now and then. Perhaps it was that, but I do know the thought of telling anyone I hated that sleeping bag and always froze just never crossed my mind. Wonder if the therapist will make something of that in our play on family dynamics!*smile* Thanks for reading!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Giving Thanks Meditation ca 1989
Amongst the strife and challenges, I am finally to the point where I can muster a bit of energy for spiritual work. I recently found a version of the following which I wrote around 1989. I am going to use it for a guide to get me started.
Giving Thanks Meditation – circa 1989
(personal names have been removed)
I start by seeing a candle flame burning steadily within the very centre of my heart. I feel the warmth of it bathing my heart and body. As I watch, it grows spilling into the rest of my body until I am diffused with Light. There is a great feeling of relief and happiness as I let the Light spread through my body. My shoulders drop; my hands are relaxed in my lap, my eyes closed. As the Light grows within me, I become surrounded by a sphere of the same Light without. With my fingertips and toes tingling with the radiating warm glow of Cosmic energy, I become a sphere of Light, moving, walking, breathing, driving, talking and sleeping within this ball of Cosmic Light.
I turn to greet the members of my family starting with my household. I reach out to each one; reaching out, our hands touch and they receive the Light which fills them until their sphere is fused with mine, so that we are encompassed within two, interlinked balls of Light. I travel on with them, two Light beings, full of joy, happiness, health, and boundless energy. Each member of our family is thus greeted and brought into the Circle of Light, travelling on to greet the next until we are one large circle of family: (List names of those included;) with luminous eyes and radiant smiles we greet each other with much hugging, exclamations of joy and kisses of love. We are full of love, joy, and peace.
As I move on, I stop by the homes of friends to leave them their sphere of Light to heal, protect, and love. Wherever we go on our daily journeys, we each carry that Light with us touching those around us, passing on the Light until our entire world becomes filled with Light, joy, and peace.
I then come back to the circle of family and bring each family pet to the centre. I see them arranged on a carpeted circle of steps, with my beloved, now-passed on (insert name) at the top. (Continue with listing as many as you wish to include.) Each of them radiates with that special unconditional love for which we all love them so much. They all glow with health and Cosmic Love within our circle of Light where we dance with joy, clasping each other’s hands in Love. Here, too, I greet with longing and peace, those humans and animals who have passed on: (list here.)
Once I have seen us join in the circle, I come back to my house and begin to see it filled with Light. I visualize a giant can filled with Light being poured out over the roof of my house, coating it as a painter coats a wall. I see this Light becoming a river flowing from my house to include the whole neighbourhood, then the town, then the state and then the continent, spreading, spreading Light to every corner, leaving no trace of the darkness of anger, fear, and hatred, the whole of our planet becomes encircled with Light, until I also see another giant can upended over our Mother Earth, spilling its contents labelled Love, Joy, and Peace into every house, hovel, building, cave, tree, rock, stream, grass, four-legged animal, winged creature and water being of our beloved home planet; dispelling all strife, disharmony, fear, and anger; bringing Peace Profound to all it touches; being spread by all it touches, just as a flowing river overflows its banks, linking all it touches with its cool, damp, life-giving force. I travel out into the Universe, light as a feather, a ball of Light energy, moving with ease, with no visible distance or time, viewing Earth from above, an Earth encircled and bathed in a bright, healing Light; truly a global village of Light beings, radiating Peace and Goodwill to the entire Universe. So mote it be!
Giving Thanks Meditation – circa 1989
(personal names have been removed)
I start by seeing a candle flame burning steadily within the very centre of my heart. I feel the warmth of it bathing my heart and body. As I watch, it grows spilling into the rest of my body until I am diffused with Light. There is a great feeling of relief and happiness as I let the Light spread through my body. My shoulders drop; my hands are relaxed in my lap, my eyes closed. As the Light grows within me, I become surrounded by a sphere of the same Light without. With my fingertips and toes tingling with the radiating warm glow of Cosmic energy, I become a sphere of Light, moving, walking, breathing, driving, talking and sleeping within this ball of Cosmic Light.
I turn to greet the members of my family starting with my household. I reach out to each one; reaching out, our hands touch and they receive the Light which fills them until their sphere is fused with mine, so that we are encompassed within two, interlinked balls of Light. I travel on with them, two Light beings, full of joy, happiness, health, and boundless energy. Each member of our family is thus greeted and brought into the Circle of Light, travelling on to greet the next until we are one large circle of family: (List names of those included;) with luminous eyes and radiant smiles we greet each other with much hugging, exclamations of joy and kisses of love. We are full of love, joy, and peace.
As I move on, I stop by the homes of friends to leave them their sphere of Light to heal, protect, and love. Wherever we go on our daily journeys, we each carry that Light with us touching those around us, passing on the Light until our entire world becomes filled with Light, joy, and peace.
I then come back to the circle of family and bring each family pet to the centre. I see them arranged on a carpeted circle of steps, with my beloved, now-passed on (insert name) at the top. (Continue with listing as many as you wish to include.) Each of them radiates with that special unconditional love for which we all love them so much. They all glow with health and Cosmic Love within our circle of Light where we dance with joy, clasping each other’s hands in Love. Here, too, I greet with longing and peace, those humans and animals who have passed on: (list here.)
Once I have seen us join in the circle, I come back to my house and begin to see it filled with Light. I visualize a giant can filled with Light being poured out over the roof of my house, coating it as a painter coats a wall. I see this Light becoming a river flowing from my house to include the whole neighbourhood, then the town, then the state and then the continent, spreading, spreading Light to every corner, leaving no trace of the darkness of anger, fear, and hatred, the whole of our planet becomes encircled with Light, until I also see another giant can upended over our Mother Earth, spilling its contents labelled Love, Joy, and Peace into every house, hovel, building, cave, tree, rock, stream, grass, four-legged animal, winged creature and water being of our beloved home planet; dispelling all strife, disharmony, fear, and anger; bringing Peace Profound to all it touches; being spread by all it touches, just as a flowing river overflows its banks, linking all it touches with its cool, damp, life-giving force. I travel out into the Universe, light as a feather, a ball of Light energy, moving with ease, with no visible distance or time, viewing Earth from above, an Earth encircled and bathed in a bright, healing Light; truly a global village of Light beings, radiating Peace and Goodwill to the entire Universe. So mote it be!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Semi-downer Update
Over a month since last I posted. My apologies. It has been interesting. Christmas went better than I expected as our daughter will not allow our son to be around her or her family, plus her in-laws came down for the day. We went to her house, before they for there, to see M-the grandson open his presents and have breakfast. We then went back to our house for an early dinner with my brother. My Rog made the whole meal except for pies. I actually got it together enough to make my famous pumpkin pies and they turned out pretty good. Later that afternoon, we went to our son's house and had a really good time with him and his partner and her 8 year old son as well as her mom who was visiting (I wish she lived here!)
After Christmas went pretty well, too. I had a red letter day in there somewhere...the first day I drove myself somewhere since starting on the meds. That felt good.
I continue to have the odd attack now and then; not sure why, but xanax is still helping, though not at night. It has lost its efficacy in helping me to sleep, so I've a call into my new doc for advice.
We upped the zoloft to 75mg last week and to 100mg as of today. I hope I start feeling more effects from it. At the moment, I have a hard time getting motivated to do anything except sit at the computer or go lie down. I had a bug, or something I ate didn't sit well over the weekend, so I know I feel worn out from that and still feel a little under the weather, but I also feel a deep concern that I am not getting out of the house on my own. My Rog says the weather doesn't help as well. It's been cold for weeks with snow on the ground still and the thought of packing around an oxygen bottle which is heavy makes me feel defeated before I even step out the door.
I had one session with the therapist after Christmas; the one just before was cancelled as he was called out for emergency response for the thirty people the hospital told would lose their jobs after the 1st of January. It put things into perspective when I was disappointed about not seeing him to prepare for Christmas day family stuff, but then it's all relative. (No pun intended.:-)
The last session felt more like meeting a good friend for coffee...a kind of mutual admiration society. He told me his wife loved the necklace I made for her and that I had inspired him to the point that he went home and made jewellery for all of his family members. I really like him, but we didn't talk about what I think I need help working on, etc. I have a call into him, today, to talk with him about it. I have the names of two other therapists I may see instead. I want some real help with what is causing the depression and anxiety. I do have three books to check out, recommended to me by a therapist friend, one of which is a workbook which I think will be very helpful.
Sorry if this feels like a downer of an update. I still am better than I was and I am going to try not to give the negative so much "press" time as I do believe we attract with our words. So, some good news...I was able to mentally get myself to do about 12 minutes of qi gong this morning AND wash my hair. I have washed my hair every day of my life with few exceptions. Since this all started, it's been once or twice a week. For awhile I thought it was just that my scalp and hair had less oil and I could tolerate it better. Now, I see it as one more sign of depression, so getting it washed first thing in the morning is a good thing.
As ever, thanks for listening!
After Christmas went pretty well, too. I had a red letter day in there somewhere...the first day I drove myself somewhere since starting on the meds. That felt good.
I continue to have the odd attack now and then; not sure why, but xanax is still helping, though not at night. It has lost its efficacy in helping me to sleep, so I've a call into my new doc for advice.
We upped the zoloft to 75mg last week and to 100mg as of today. I hope I start feeling more effects from it. At the moment, I have a hard time getting motivated to do anything except sit at the computer or go lie down. I had a bug, or something I ate didn't sit well over the weekend, so I know I feel worn out from that and still feel a little under the weather, but I also feel a deep concern that I am not getting out of the house on my own. My Rog says the weather doesn't help as well. It's been cold for weeks with snow on the ground still and the thought of packing around an oxygen bottle which is heavy makes me feel defeated before I even step out the door.
I had one session with the therapist after Christmas; the one just before was cancelled as he was called out for emergency response for the thirty people the hospital told would lose their jobs after the 1st of January. It put things into perspective when I was disappointed about not seeing him to prepare for Christmas day family stuff, but then it's all relative. (No pun intended.:-)
The last session felt more like meeting a good friend for coffee...a kind of mutual admiration society. He told me his wife loved the necklace I made for her and that I had inspired him to the point that he went home and made jewellery for all of his family members. I really like him, but we didn't talk about what I think I need help working on, etc. I have a call into him, today, to talk with him about it. I have the names of two other therapists I may see instead. I want some real help with what is causing the depression and anxiety. I do have three books to check out, recommended to me by a therapist friend, one of which is a workbook which I think will be very helpful.
Sorry if this feels like a downer of an update. I still am better than I was and I am going to try not to give the negative so much "press" time as I do believe we attract with our words. So, some good news...I was able to mentally get myself to do about 12 minutes of qi gong this morning AND wash my hair. I have washed my hair every day of my life with few exceptions. Since this all started, it's been once or twice a week. For awhile I thought it was just that my scalp and hair had less oil and I could tolerate it better. Now, I see it as one more sign of depression, so getting it washed first thing in the morning is a good thing.
As ever, thanks for listening!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Getting better...for real!
Sorry it has taken me so long to post, again, esp. after that last post. A lot has happened. Today is the tenth day since we bumped up the zoloft to 50mg. A friend's psychiatrist told her it takes ten days to feel anything and thirty for it to really kick in. I can definitely feel the difference and I know Rog does, too.
I have had some rough days in between and a few attacks, but not like before. The worst, most recently, was the morning we went to meet our new doctor. I didn't slept the whole night, I was so nervous. Xanax didn't even make a dent and I didn't take another all night because I didn't want to be groggy when we met her. I was rushing around, trying to get ready, voicing my fears when Rog told me to take another one. I think he thought we might not make it out the door, I was so anxious. Part of it was because of the weather. We'd had several inches of snow, which is very unusual for here, and the roads were still packed with ice. We'd also had record-breaking lows of 10 below. We had to go in his big pickup truck, plus our driveway was packed with snow-ice. I fell on ice once and broke open the back of my head, so I do NOT like walking on it. Wearing my Birkenstocks with Rog carrying my oxygen bag, we crept out to the truck. Finally, we got to the truck, he opened the door, and set a small plastic step-stool down for me; otherwise I couldn't get in...my 5'2" just won't reach. I was even afraid to step up on the stool, it was so icy. By then, I was sure we were going to be late. With Roger's help, I managed to get in and settled. As it was, we walked in the door right at 8a, our appt. time!
After filling out papers to have our records transferred (YES! No more bully doc for us!), they took us in a room to take our vitals, then told us the doc was late as her kids' school bus wouldn't start and she had to wait with them until another came. We didn't have to wait too long and by the time she came I was settled down from the xanax and relief to just be there.
She is very nice, astute, asked a bunch of good questions and, most importantly, she listened well. When I said something about our old doc, by name, she looked me in the eye and said she'd been a partner of his. I wasn't sure whether to say, "so you know" or ask if that would be a problem. Before I could decide, she said they'd "had their differences" now and then. So I knew she knows what I meant. I told her I put great credence in what a doctor tells me, if I trust them, and everything I hear goes straight to my heart, so I need a doc who will be careful how they phrase things and also one who will give me credit for knowing my own body. I elaborated a bit on what happened when the bully didn't do so.
We took care of prescriptions, she examined Rog and asked him questions, too, then told him he didn't need to come back for six months and I needed to see her in three, as long as we were doing okay. I felt so relieved and we were both impressed and pleased. After waiting so long to do something about getting a new doc, then going through with it made me feel so good.
One of the main ways I know the meds are helping is I have noticed a BIG difference in Roger. What it must've been like for him all this time, living with me being depressed and not even knowing it...just being crabby, etc., well, yes and genuinely ill, at times. Anyway, I feel I am getting my husband back. He had withdrawn and spent much time on his computer, still does, but now we talk, really talk and laugh and discuss and enjoy one another's company, again. I am not whining to him the minute he walks through the door, begging him to rub my shoulders, feed me, and/or talk to me. That one always gets him. He'll say "what do you want to talk about?" I'd say, "Anything, just talk!" Well, a girlfriend will understand...we just think differently. I do know, though, that a part of his frustration wasmy the depression and the effect it has had on both of us. So for now, I will say, I still feel fragile, BUT much better and I have some joy back in my married life which is really wonderful. I know I have a long way to go, but I keep getting these neat glimmers of who I really AM and can't wait to get her back!
I have had some rough days in between and a few attacks, but not like before. The worst, most recently, was the morning we went to meet our new doctor. I didn't slept the whole night, I was so nervous. Xanax didn't even make a dent and I didn't take another all night because I didn't want to be groggy when we met her. I was rushing around, trying to get ready, voicing my fears when Rog told me to take another one. I think he thought we might not make it out the door, I was so anxious. Part of it was because of the weather. We'd had several inches of snow, which is very unusual for here, and the roads were still packed with ice. We'd also had record-breaking lows of 10 below. We had to go in his big pickup truck, plus our driveway was packed with snow-ice. I fell on ice once and broke open the back of my head, so I do NOT like walking on it. Wearing my Birkenstocks with Rog carrying my oxygen bag, we crept out to the truck. Finally, we got to the truck, he opened the door, and set a small plastic step-stool down for me; otherwise I couldn't get in...my 5'2" just won't reach. I was even afraid to step up on the stool, it was so icy. By then, I was sure we were going to be late. With Roger's help, I managed to get in and settled. As it was, we walked in the door right at 8a, our appt. time!
After filling out papers to have our records transferred (YES! No more bully doc for us!), they took us in a room to take our vitals, then told us the doc was late as her kids' school bus wouldn't start and she had to wait with them until another came. We didn't have to wait too long and by the time she came I was settled down from the xanax and relief to just be there.
She is very nice, astute, asked a bunch of good questions and, most importantly, she listened well. When I said something about our old doc, by name, she looked me in the eye and said she'd been a partner of his. I wasn't sure whether to say, "so you know" or ask if that would be a problem. Before I could decide, she said they'd "had their differences" now and then. So I knew she knows what I meant. I told her I put great credence in what a doctor tells me, if I trust them, and everything I hear goes straight to my heart, so I need a doc who will be careful how they phrase things and also one who will give me credit for knowing my own body. I elaborated a bit on what happened when the bully didn't do so.
We took care of prescriptions, she examined Rog and asked him questions, too, then told him he didn't need to come back for six months and I needed to see her in three, as long as we were doing okay. I felt so relieved and we were both impressed and pleased. After waiting so long to do something about getting a new doc, then going through with it made me feel so good.
One of the main ways I know the meds are helping is I have noticed a BIG difference in Roger. What it must've been like for him all this time, living with me being depressed and not even knowing it...just being crabby, etc., well, yes and genuinely ill, at times. Anyway, I feel I am getting my husband back. He had withdrawn and spent much time on his computer, still does, but now we talk, really talk and laugh and discuss and enjoy one another's company, again. I am not whining to him the minute he walks through the door, begging him to rub my shoulders, feed me, and/or talk to me. That one always gets him. He'll say "what do you want to talk about?" I'd say, "Anything, just talk!" Well, a girlfriend will understand...we just think differently. I do know, though, that a part of his frustration was
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Some fun and a bumpy road
I had a great session with L on Friday. My assignment had been to show him a new piece of jewellery I made. I told him I'd make a necklace for his wife. My one-of-a-kind custom jewellery designs are made through intuitive guidance as I *tune* into my client and the gemstones. (My company is StonePeople Designs.) I didn't even know his wife's name, nor colouring, nothing except he thinks she looks prettiest in pink!
I had been having trouble going into the office/jewellery room as I'd spent all of my days and evenings in there until recently and it feels like a cage. I had a real aversion to it recently; hence the assignment. So I sat down, finally, on Wednesday to see what I could come up with. It took several tries, always with the beads letting me know if they liked where I put them. Finally, I came up with a design using rose quartz and small fresh water cultured pearls with glass beads of green with swirlies of purple when the light hits them just right. There are also some small, finishing beads of green, pink and white swirled together.
L really liked it and assured me his wife would, too. He then showed it to his office manager who said, "Oh it looks just like her. She will love it!" Turns out his wife is blond and loves pastel colours, esp. pink and green, so that made me feel really good. I guess I still have the "touch."
That evening, our grandson came over while his parents went to a holiday party. I had a tiny bit of anxiety at the thought of having him over in the evening, esp. after such a busy day for me. It was the first day I'd driven myself anywhere since I started taking antidepressants. It turned out fine. We had a lot of fun and he went home around 9p, after teaching "mama" how to play a star wars video game with him on our tv. First time I've ever played an active video game; it was a lot of fun. He is so good at it; it was funny; he'd pat me on the back, tell me I was doing a good job (at the beginner's level!) and he'd moved me up to the No.1 position on his team!
By then, I was feeling very tired and my intestines had been uncomfortable. I never slept that night, Friday, nor the next. I don't know if it's a side effect of zoloft kicking in, but both nights were rough roads...up almost every hour, sitting in the bathroom, defecating more than seemed possible for one body. Zoloft at night along with a whole tablet of xanax did nothing to help me relax and sleep last night. That old joke about the asshole ruling over the mind and the rest of the body came to mind.:-) The only sleep I did get was when Rog actually put his hand on my abdomen and held me...it helped me relax..his hands are always so warm and soothing.
There is not as much pain from it, today. I did eat out twice last week which may have upset things as it was the first meat (chicken and bacon, separately) that I have had in about two months. I will call the doc, tomorrow, if it hasn't improved. I hope I sleep tonight. I am only having oatmeal and toast with maybe a little mint tea.
It made me realise how fragile I may still be. This afternoon, I was feeling so cruddy. I had a major panic attack which went off into the realms of "Oh, no, what if it's (name your malady!) What if I have to fight with the new doctor to convince her I know my own body? What if she insists on this and that!?" All the old PTSD from being bullied by my former doc. came up. There is nothing anyone has told me about the new doc which would indicate her being at all like that. Xanax has taken the edge off of, plus Rog was once again, quite helpful. And, so it goes. Learning to live in balance, again.
Thanks for listening!
I had been having trouble going into the office/jewellery room as I'd spent all of my days and evenings in there until recently and it feels like a cage. I had a real aversion to it recently; hence the assignment. So I sat down, finally, on Wednesday to see what I could come up with. It took several tries, always with the beads letting me know if they liked where I put them. Finally, I came up with a design using rose quartz and small fresh water cultured pearls with glass beads of green with swirlies of purple when the light hits them just right. There are also some small, finishing beads of green, pink and white swirled together.
L really liked it and assured me his wife would, too. He then showed it to his office manager who said, "Oh it looks just like her. She will love it!" Turns out his wife is blond and loves pastel colours, esp. pink and green, so that made me feel really good. I guess I still have the "touch."
That evening, our grandson came over while his parents went to a holiday party. I had a tiny bit of anxiety at the thought of having him over in the evening, esp. after such a busy day for me. It was the first day I'd driven myself anywhere since I started taking antidepressants. It turned out fine. We had a lot of fun and he went home around 9p, after teaching "mama" how to play a star wars video game with him on our tv. First time I've ever played an active video game; it was a lot of fun. He is so good at it; it was funny; he'd pat me on the back, tell me I was doing a good job (at the beginner's level!) and he'd moved me up to the No.1 position on his team!
By then, I was feeling very tired and my intestines had been uncomfortable. I never slept that night, Friday, nor the next. I don't know if it's a side effect of zoloft kicking in, but both nights were rough roads...up almost every hour, sitting in the bathroom, defecating more than seemed possible for one body. Zoloft at night along with a whole tablet of xanax did nothing to help me relax and sleep last night. That old joke about the asshole ruling over the mind and the rest of the body came to mind.:-) The only sleep I did get was when Rog actually put his hand on my abdomen and held me...it helped me relax..his hands are always so warm and soothing.
There is not as much pain from it, today. I did eat out twice last week which may have upset things as it was the first meat (chicken and bacon, separately) that I have had in about two months. I will call the doc, tomorrow, if it hasn't improved. I hope I sleep tonight. I am only having oatmeal and toast with maybe a little mint tea.
It made me realise how fragile I may still be. This afternoon, I was feeling so cruddy. I had a major panic attack which went off into the realms of "Oh, no, what if it's (name your malady!) What if I have to fight with the new doctor to convince her I know my own body? What if she insists on this and that!?" All the old PTSD from being bullied by my former doc. came up. There is nothing anyone has told me about the new doc which would indicate her being at all like that. Xanax has taken the edge off of, plus Rog was once again, quite helpful. And, so it goes. Learning to live in balance, again.
Thanks for listening!
Monday, November 30, 2009
Give Yourself to Love
The past weekend, I have had an "earbug"...the chorus of Kate Wolf's song, "Give Yourself to Love." I didn't know the whole chorus and I missed a couple of small words, but the message came through gently and insistent, I must "Give yourself to Love, Love is What You're After, Give Yourself to Love." As I said, I missed a few, but it worked for me. Here is the full chorus:
You must give yourself to love
If love is what you're after
Open up your hearts, to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love
As you can see there is no "IF" about it for me. I feel it is imperative that I MUST turn towards the Love in my life as well as take the medicines, etc. In fact, I feel the zoloft is working, a fog is lifting and has enabled me to HEAR the message of the song. Quite some synergy there. Now, if I can get motivated to exercise my body which is desperately asking to be moved and stretched, I will feel all parts of me are being treated. I hope the zoloft will help with that motivation. I think it will based on this past weekend.
We were to run a few errands on Sat. then take the rest of the day to relax as Rog had to work on Friday and I went with him for part of the day. When we got home from getting groceries, I couldn't sit still, lie down or anything else of inaction. My mind rebelled; I could not face another day of doing nothing! So, I asked Rog to help me. I emptied my grandmother's trunk; made a pile of stuff to send my daughter back East and a pile to put elsewhere. The trunk was empty and I had a mirror which needed to go to Morgan. So I called my daughter and she had her husband come over to get them both. That's the first decluttering thing I have done in months and months, it seems, major one, at least. It is something I've been meaning to do for ages. By then, I was tired, it was later in the afternoon, so I stopped. No panic or anxiety for the day AND able to get something major done. Well, well...and all the while I was hearing "Give yourself to love, love is what you're after..." and, that brings to mind another singer/songwriter, Woody Guthrie, who spoke no truer words when he wrote Love is the only God I'll ever believe in...I'd post the whole thing here, but it's a copyrighted piece. Please do follow the link and read the entire piece. It is quite profound in my opinion and Love is what I am after...in all things...a focus on the positives in my life.
You must give yourself to love
If love is what you're after
Open up your hearts, to the tears and laughter
And give yourself to love, give yourself to love
As you can see there is no "IF" about it for me. I feel it is imperative that I MUST turn towards the Love in my life as well as take the medicines, etc. In fact, I feel the zoloft is working, a fog is lifting and has enabled me to HEAR the message of the song. Quite some synergy there. Now, if I can get motivated to exercise my body which is desperately asking to be moved and stretched, I will feel all parts of me are being treated. I hope the zoloft will help with that motivation. I think it will based on this past weekend.
We were to run a few errands on Sat. then take the rest of the day to relax as Rog had to work on Friday and I went with him for part of the day. When we got home from getting groceries, I couldn't sit still, lie down or anything else of inaction. My mind rebelled; I could not face another day of doing nothing! So, I asked Rog to help me. I emptied my grandmother's trunk; made a pile of stuff to send my daughter back East and a pile to put elsewhere. The trunk was empty and I had a mirror which needed to go to Morgan. So I called my daughter and she had her husband come over to get them both. That's the first decluttering thing I have done in months and months, it seems, major one, at least. It is something I've been meaning to do for ages. By then, I was tired, it was later in the afternoon, so I stopped. No panic or anxiety for the day AND able to get something major done. Well, well...and all the while I was hearing "Give yourself to love, love is what you're after..." and, that brings to mind another singer/songwriter, Woody Guthrie, who spoke no truer words when he wrote Love is the only God I'll ever believe in...I'd post the whole thing here, but it's a copyrighted piece. Please do follow the link and read the entire piece. It is quite profound in my opinion and Love is what I am after...in all things...a focus on the positives in my life.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Cautiously Optimistic aka Possible, For Sure, Maybe?!
A glimmer of hope has come my way, finally. It seems the zoloft may be kicking in. For the first time in months I actually *felt* like doing something. I didn't do it because I had to or to suit others, etc. I did it because I mentally felt like doing it. I went through one old trunk, emptied it to give to my daughter. Consolidated some of what I took out into another one which was almost full. What is left out is my other daughter's artwork from years ago; it will all go to her as part of her Christmas present. We now need something at the foot of our bed, a table or bench, but we'll find one in good time. For now, we have an armchair there holding the ubiquitous laundry basket full of clean clothes which never seem to get put away.
This morning, apparently, I needed to sleep more. We had to go run a couple of errands after breakfast, so off we went. I fell asleep. Rog, bless his heart, knows I get my best sleep in the car, have done for years, but only if he's the one driving. Anyway, he took me up on our usual Sunday loop, up on the palisades (bluffs) among the peach, apple, pear, and cherry orchards. It is high above the Colorado river and I feel better when we get up above the valley, so I usually stay awake to watch, but I have no memory of this morning's ride except that the sleep felt really good and the dog was very happy. He loves his rides, too.
Anyway, my eyes are sore, really tired, but my mind is slightly clearer. It feels as though a fog is lifting in tatters, here and there, from my mind. I had to stop with Rog's reminder that I need to keep things in balance. I have a tendency to go great guns when I feel better; beyond what I should do, then I crash. Not this time, though...I stopped, then we went for a bit. This evening, I have felt a little let down, energy-wise, but no anxiety, no lethargy, no panic, no xanax...bless me, god/dess and wake me up and thanks!
This morning, apparently, I needed to sleep more. We had to go run a couple of errands after breakfast, so off we went. I fell asleep. Rog, bless his heart, knows I get my best sleep in the car, have done for years, but only if he's the one driving. Anyway, he took me up on our usual Sunday loop, up on the palisades (bluffs) among the peach, apple, pear, and cherry orchards. It is high above the Colorado river and I feel better when we get up above the valley, so I usually stay awake to watch, but I have no memory of this morning's ride except that the sleep felt really good and the dog was very happy. He loves his rides, too.
Anyway, my eyes are sore, really tired, but my mind is slightly clearer. It feels as though a fog is lifting in tatters, here and there, from my mind. I had to stop with Rog's reminder that I need to keep things in balance. I have a tendency to go great guns when I feel better; beyond what I should do, then I crash. Not this time, though...I stopped, then we went for a bit. This evening, I have felt a little let down, energy-wise, but no anxiety, no lethargy, no panic, no xanax...bless me, god/dess and wake me up and thanks!
Friday, November 27, 2009
So long, Lexapro; Hello, Zoloft
I hate this. I hate trying new meds. I hate dealing with side effects and indecision about whether they are side effects or just the depression, etc. Hate is a strong word I prefer not to use; it is a word of anger which is born of fear. Last night side effects had me groaning in pain, half-asleep, aware enough to be full of fear that this will never change for the better. I knew that was not good thinking, so I woke up Rog and asked him to repeat a certain phrase for me, over and over which helped.
By now, you probably know I am not religious, but I am spiritual. A friend recently told me a story which stuck with me. I paraphrase it, so it's not exact, but the gist of it is correct. During WWII, a gentle man, a Quaker had to get a job. He was in desperate need and finally secured a place in a factory; a rather rough place with much rough and profane language. After his first day, he went home in consternation. He didn't know what to do as he felt he could not work around such language, but he really needed the job, so he spoke with his god. He received a message. Each time someone used rough language, he was to send them the thought, "May God bless and wake you up!" The next day, he did just that and things seemed to go better. He continued to work there until the war was over. His boss came up to him then and said he didn't know what the Quaker had done with his unit, but if he'd had a dozen more of them, working so well, it would have really paid off.
So, my friend tells that story to everyone, even little children in Sunday school and she tells us all, it doesn't hurt to look in the mirror and say "God bless and wake ME up!"
So, that was my mantra last night. It was the only thing that came to my muddled mind as l fell asleep to Rog repeating it over and over.
By now, you probably know I am not religious, but I am spiritual. A friend recently told me a story which stuck with me. I paraphrase it, so it's not exact, but the gist of it is correct. During WWII, a gentle man, a Quaker had to get a job. He was in desperate need and finally secured a place in a factory; a rather rough place with much rough and profane language. After his first day, he went home in consternation. He didn't know what to do as he felt he could not work around such language, but he really needed the job, so he spoke with his god. He received a message. Each time someone used rough language, he was to send them the thought, "May God bless and wake you up!" The next day, he did just that and things seemed to go better. He continued to work there until the war was over. His boss came up to him then and said he didn't know what the Quaker had done with his unit, but if he'd had a dozen more of them, working so well, it would have really paid off.
So, my friend tells that story to everyone, even little children in Sunday school and she tells us all, it doesn't hurt to look in the mirror and say "God bless and wake ME up!"
So, that was my mantra last night. It was the only thing that came to my muddled mind as l fell asleep to Rog repeating it over and over.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Off the rails - maybe a good thing?
After reading over my initial post, from October, I found out I was angry at myself for not being able to just conquer all of this with my metaphysical training. Then I realised nowhere did I ever learn I was to eschew help of any kind which seemed "right" including medical help and medicines. I have never been one who does not believe in using Western medicine when necessary. So, again I learned I am not a Super Woman and that's okay. I still love me..I can even say so in the mirror! I am not weak for using xanax and lexapro to help me recover from a depression which I think has been going on a lot longer than I ever knew.
One thing I know I have been doing a lot over the past few years is avoiding conflict. I quit writing op/ed columns at a time when I was being published nationally; I quit volunteering for a human rights organisation for which I had done PR work; I stopped friends, the tv, and radio if the least little thing came up which I thought would be too much for me, would upset me too much. I knew it was partly because I am an empath and we do have to protect ourselves, but now I am wondering if it wasn't just fatigue from depression; just not having the wherewithal to listen, debate, etc. There are a handful of friends with whom I have had a back and forth, a give and take, throughout and I am convinced this has kept me going much longer than otherwise.
Today started out angry, but improved after breakfast. Our son called to see if I still wanted to go target shooting. I have not been in over thirty years and have a whole different outlook about guns, now, but I do still have my dad's .22 single shot rifle and fond memories of Sunday picnics when dad would set a penny on a log and shoot a hole through it with his six-shooter. I come from a long line of Western sharpshooters and ranch people so using a gun properly was instilled in us from a young age; likewise my children were taught the extreme safety measures of true respect for the lethal weapon a gun really is.
I had been so shaky from meds last night I wasn't sure I could even hold the rifle much less hit the broad side of a barn (not really, no barns in sight and I wouldn't have shot at one, anyway!) Last night, I took the third night of a half-dose of lexapro. I tried to make it the night through without any xanax, but at 1230a, I gave up and took one half of one. That settled me for a bit. I tossed and turned a lot from side effects of the lexapro, according to what I have read about it.
I did okay the rest of the day, sort of. We did go target-shooting and I found out I could hold the rifle and I could at least get to within a few feet of a target. Once I get used to it, again, I might do my dad proud and get back to "dead-eye" status. My Rog did a bullseye, dead center with our son's 9 millimeter and I did hit one target with one shot from it, but it's too loud and heavy for me to like shooting. I'll stick to my old-fashioned, slow and easy .22.
When we came home, we stopped off to pick up our grandson, M. He was a busy bee with his toy tools, going all over our house pounding in screws, hammering on windowsills. Then he set up a pillow, a yoga ball on a bin and crawled under them to tell me he would have my car ready for me soon; there was a lot to fix! By the time he was done it had seating for 14 and a swimming pool! He is so inventive and fun. We played a few hands of UNO then he went home.
A little later just as I was starting to feel anxious, Rog and I left for the store. I went in, this time, and it was a horrible time. I did okay, we got the groceries, but everything annoyed me and I couldn't wait to get out, plus my feet hurt. That is not like me, at all. Usually, I try to smile at folks because I know they probably don't want to be there and it might brighten their day.
A friend opined we strong women, Wise Wimmin, go and go, taking on more and more, not recognising the toll it is taking until there is one pebble too many added on to the pile. I believe she is spot on; that is just what I feel like. I cannot even get in touch with my metaphysical practices because my head is just kind of stuck. I can sit and say "thank you" over and over and know the Cosmic/Great Spirit hears me and knows, but that is about it, for now.
We went for a drive after the store, but it was in the wrong direction through ugly developments and did nothing to alleviate my mood; usually I can at least get a nap in the car, but not so this time. So, I have been restless, angry, frustrated and demanding. Puir Rog doesn't know what to do. I took a xanax to stave off the anxiety I felt coming. I didn't know what to eat; nothing sounded good, though I was very hungry which is a side effect of lexapro. Finally, I had a cup of brocoli soup and a piece of toast with raspberry preserves. I do not feel as lethargic, today, as I did yesterday, so maybe the one half xanax at night for another few nights will be okay and the lexapro will kick in. I do not feel the side effects as much now as earlier. I definitely think taking it at bedtime works best for me.
I have to figure out a way to get my mind into the exercise my body is screaming for...my mind is still in the old invalid way thinking of how much work it is and how much easier it is to let Rog get things for me and such. I am active during the day when I am alone and with M., but I have to get back to a steady program...my body is just craving it so badly. One thing at a time seems to be the most I can do. So, get the meds going and move to the next.
I did get some laundry done, today; cleaned the bathroom with M's help; and, with Rog's help, cleared a space on the jewellery table. (There's a bunch of stuff we didn't get to, today, but Rog needed more time off. We had to go to the station last night for an emergency.) Oh, and I have to practice my dulcimer in order to play for the volunteer coordinators at hospice on the 30th! What was that I was saying about one thing at a time?
I hope this is really helping someone; it seems like more spewing to me.:-) Thanks for listening.
One thing I know I have been doing a lot over the past few years is avoiding conflict. I quit writing op/ed columns at a time when I was being published nationally; I quit volunteering for a human rights organisation for which I had done PR work; I stopped friends, the tv, and radio if the least little thing came up which I thought would be too much for me, would upset me too much. I knew it was partly because I am an empath and we do have to protect ourselves, but now I am wondering if it wasn't just fatigue from depression; just not having the wherewithal to listen, debate, etc. There are a handful of friends with whom I have had a back and forth, a give and take, throughout and I am convinced this has kept me going much longer than otherwise.
Today started out angry, but improved after breakfast. Our son called to see if I still wanted to go target shooting. I have not been in over thirty years and have a whole different outlook about guns, now, but I do still have my dad's .22 single shot rifle and fond memories of Sunday picnics when dad would set a penny on a log and shoot a hole through it with his six-shooter. I come from a long line of Western sharpshooters and ranch people so using a gun properly was instilled in us from a young age; likewise my children were taught the extreme safety measures of true respect for the lethal weapon a gun really is.
I had been so shaky from meds last night I wasn't sure I could even hold the rifle much less hit the broad side of a barn (not really, no barns in sight and I wouldn't have shot at one, anyway!) Last night, I took the third night of a half-dose of lexapro. I tried to make it the night through without any xanax, but at 1230a, I gave up and took one half of one. That settled me for a bit. I tossed and turned a lot from side effects of the lexapro, according to what I have read about it.
I did okay the rest of the day, sort of. We did go target-shooting and I found out I could hold the rifle and I could at least get to within a few feet of a target. Once I get used to it, again, I might do my dad proud and get back to "dead-eye" status. My Rog did a bullseye, dead center with our son's 9 millimeter and I did hit one target with one shot from it, but it's too loud and heavy for me to like shooting. I'll stick to my old-fashioned, slow and easy .22.
When we came home, we stopped off to pick up our grandson, M. He was a busy bee with his toy tools, going all over our house pounding in screws, hammering on windowsills. Then he set up a pillow, a yoga ball on a bin and crawled under them to tell me he would have my car ready for me soon; there was a lot to fix! By the time he was done it had seating for 14 and a swimming pool! He is so inventive and fun. We played a few hands of UNO then he went home.
A little later just as I was starting to feel anxious, Rog and I left for the store. I went in, this time, and it was a horrible time. I did okay, we got the groceries, but everything annoyed me and I couldn't wait to get out, plus my feet hurt. That is not like me, at all. Usually, I try to smile at folks because I know they probably don't want to be there and it might brighten their day.
A friend opined we strong women, Wise Wimmin, go and go, taking on more and more, not recognising the toll it is taking until there is one pebble too many added on to the pile. I believe she is spot on; that is just what I feel like. I cannot even get in touch with my metaphysical practices because my head is just kind of stuck. I can sit and say "thank you" over and over and know the Cosmic/Great Spirit hears me and knows, but that is about it, for now.
We went for a drive after the store, but it was in the wrong direction through ugly developments and did nothing to alleviate my mood; usually I can at least get a nap in the car, but not so this time. So, I have been restless, angry, frustrated and demanding. Puir Rog doesn't know what to do. I took a xanax to stave off the anxiety I felt coming. I didn't know what to eat; nothing sounded good, though I was very hungry which is a side effect of lexapro. Finally, I had a cup of brocoli soup and a piece of toast with raspberry preserves. I do not feel as lethargic, today, as I did yesterday, so maybe the one half xanax at night for another few nights will be okay and the lexapro will kick in. I do not feel the side effects as much now as earlier. I definitely think taking it at bedtime works best for me.
I have to figure out a way to get my mind into the exercise my body is screaming for...my mind is still in the old invalid way thinking of how much work it is and how much easier it is to let Rog get things for me and such. I am active during the day when I am alone and with M., but I have to get back to a steady program...my body is just craving it so badly. One thing at a time seems to be the most I can do. So, get the meds going and move to the next.
I did get some laundry done, today; cleaned the bathroom with M's help; and, with Rog's help, cleared a space on the jewellery table. (There's a bunch of stuff we didn't get to, today, but Rog needed more time off. We had to go to the station last night for an emergency.) Oh, and I have to practice my dulcimer in order to play for the volunteer coordinators at hospice on the 30th! What was that I was saying about one thing at a time?
I hope this is really helping someone; it seems like more spewing to me.:-) Thanks for listening.
Friday, November 20, 2009
On the Lexapro Trail
I can tell the effects of the lexapro have lessened. As the morning went by, I felt better, but still too shaky to drive, so Rog came home for lunch then took me to the coumadin clinic. Good news on that. My INR is right in the center of where we want it, so all of the meds increased, decreased, and added in have not mucked that up, thank goodness!
I fell asleep for a short time on the ride home. When I got in the house I saw my son-in-law had called just after M was to be picked up at school. I thought "Oh, no, my daughter must've been mixed up and we were supposed to get him." So, I didn't listen to any messages, I just called my s-i-l and asked if we'd messed up. He was nice and said that M had called to see if he could come over for a short while. So, M came over and we played Monopoly until we both almost fell asleep. It is too warm in the house, the sunshine was making us sleepy, and the little water fountain sounding like a small brook in the living room also made us sleepy, so I sent him home and came to catch up, here, before I tottle off for a nap with my fur-persons. They've both let me know it's naptime!
I spoke with the nurse who reassured me DocJ will be in on Monday if this isn't working with the lexapro. I spoke with the pharmacist who agreed with me that taking it at night might help with not noticing the side effects as much. He also said it is one of the easier drugs out there with less side effects. He said it is the old prozac with some of the old "bugs" worked out of it and that most people tolerate it well.
I have to decide what to do...if I try more of it this weekend, or wait until Rog is off next week. He may have to go on the mountain, tomorrow, if the new equipment comes in. If he does, I will want to go with him, but not if I feel the way I did last night and this morning. On the other hand, I would feel a lot happier being with him, rather than alone and anxious as most days have been. We won't know if the equipment will be here until about 1030a, so if I take it tonight, maybe the worst of the effects will have dissipated by then. If I don't take it, then I am faced with taking it tomorrow morning and having the effects hit me, if they are going to, in the middle of while we're on the mountain, away from all comforts except Rog (a major one!) and his truck (warm!) and cellphones. I think, after I talk with him about it, I will probably take one, tonight, and let the chips fall where they may. I want to make things as easy as possible for him, if he has to work tomorrow, but we both want me to get better. Personally, I am giving thanks the new equipment doesn't get here until Monday and he won't have to go any where!
Thanks for listening!
I fell asleep for a short time on the ride home. When I got in the house I saw my son-in-law had called just after M was to be picked up at school. I thought "Oh, no, my daughter must've been mixed up and we were supposed to get him." So, I didn't listen to any messages, I just called my s-i-l and asked if we'd messed up. He was nice and said that M had called to see if he could come over for a short while. So, M came over and we played Monopoly until we both almost fell asleep. It is too warm in the house, the sunshine was making us sleepy, and the little water fountain sounding like a small brook in the living room also made us sleepy, so I sent him home and came to catch up, here, before I tottle off for a nap with my fur-persons. They've both let me know it's naptime!
I spoke with the nurse who reassured me DocJ will be in on Monday if this isn't working with the lexapro. I spoke with the pharmacist who agreed with me that taking it at night might help with not noticing the side effects as much. He also said it is one of the easier drugs out there with less side effects. He said it is the old prozac with some of the old "bugs" worked out of it and that most people tolerate it well.
I have to decide what to do...if I try more of it this weekend, or wait until Rog is off next week. He may have to go on the mountain, tomorrow, if the new equipment comes in. If he does, I will want to go with him, but not if I feel the way I did last night and this morning. On the other hand, I would feel a lot happier being with him, rather than alone and anxious as most days have been. We won't know if the equipment will be here until about 1030a, so if I take it tonight, maybe the worst of the effects will have dissipated by then. If I don't take it, then I am faced with taking it tomorrow morning and having the effects hit me, if they are going to, in the middle of while we're on the mountain, away from all comforts except Rog (a major one!) and his truck (warm!) and cellphones. I think, after I talk with him about it, I will probably take one, tonight, and let the chips fall where they may. I want to make things as easy as possible for him, if he has to work tomorrow, but we both want me to get better. Personally, I am giving thanks the new equipment doesn't get here until Monday and he won't have to go any where!
Thanks for listening!
Getting to know lexapro
finally called Doc J, yesterday afternoon. She told me she thought the shakiness was probably more from the xanax than lexapro, but it had started before I took the xanax. She urged me to try to get past the side effects of lexapro, as they should subside in a few days. I was feeling really nauseous as well as very hungry, but no food sounded "good" and I know my blood sugar was getting low, so I became even more anxious about needing to eat, but not wanting to. She suggested that I not take a lexapro today and give my system a bit more time to adjust to it. That lifted my mood a tiny bit, gave me some relief from that particular anxiety.
Earlier, a girlfriend emailed me to urge me to talk with my doc as she had had terrible side effects from lexapro and didn't get hold of her doc right away thinking it was just her being weak or whatever; so, she tried to stick it out and things got worse as well as her doc went out of town that week. She felt better about me knowing I'd spoken with my doc. If I am not doing well with it by Monday, we will do something else. My Rog may take most of next week off, so I guess it would be a good week for more experimentation, though I would really like for the lexapro to work...I don't like mixing up new "cocktails." With the coumadin and heart meds I am on, we've reached a happy medium...it is scary to mess around with it. My system has always been hyper-sensitive; now, it seems even more so...the slightest change can have a fairly major effect.
So, no lexapro since yesterday morning, yet I felt it, still, this morning. I woke up angry, really, really angry. My thoughts were scattered; I didn't know what I might do; it scared me, not as in kill myself. I have never felt suicidal not in all of my life, but as in get in the car and drive when I shouldn't because of the shakiness, etc. I told Rog. I begged him to stay home with me; I told him I was afraid to be alone. He stayed until 9am, after fixing me breakfast, listening to me, talking with me, and asking me to please be well as he had to go in for a couple of hours at least.
So...here I am...it's been 1.5hrs since he left. I have managed to speak with my daughter when she called. (I will not have my grandson this afternoon, which is good, even though I miss him.) I have washed my hair...a major accomplishment! And, even more major, I spoke, coherently, with a woman from hospice who got my message about wanting to play my dulcimer there. We have set up an appt. for the 30th for me to go in to meet her and another volunteer coordinator so they can hear me play, then they will set me up with a schedule to go play for the patients. Phew! That's big scary, but GOOD scary as I know it will help me and I will love helping anyone who might need a bit of respite. I've been completely upfront with them about where I am coming from and why I want to be doing this for myself as much as for them. I thought that sounded a little selfish, but they seemed to completely understand. This feels like an incredibly HUGE step out into the community. We've lived here seven and a half years now; granted I was mostly an invalid for the first few, but it's still been a long time away from folks.
And, now, my Siamese, Kipling, who never in his life has climbed up onto my desk, has just, for the second time in two days, crept very carefully over to the pad in front of my keyboard and lied down on it, right in front so that it is difficult for me to type and I cannot reach the track ball. Yesterday, he very carefully nested right over the track ball like a biddy hen! I guess he wants me to stop, so that's all for now. Thanks for listening!
Earlier, a girlfriend emailed me to urge me to talk with my doc as she had had terrible side effects from lexapro and didn't get hold of her doc right away thinking it was just her being weak or whatever; so, she tried to stick it out and things got worse as well as her doc went out of town that week. She felt better about me knowing I'd spoken with my doc. If I am not doing well with it by Monday, we will do something else. My Rog may take most of next week off, so I guess it would be a good week for more experimentation, though I would really like for the lexapro to work...I don't like mixing up new "cocktails." With the coumadin and heart meds I am on, we've reached a happy medium...it is scary to mess around with it. My system has always been hyper-sensitive; now, it seems even more so...the slightest change can have a fairly major effect.
So, no lexapro since yesterday morning, yet I felt it, still, this morning. I woke up angry, really, really angry. My thoughts were scattered; I didn't know what I might do; it scared me, not as in kill myself. I have never felt suicidal not in all of my life, but as in get in the car and drive when I shouldn't because of the shakiness, etc. I told Rog. I begged him to stay home with me; I told him I was afraid to be alone. He stayed until 9am, after fixing me breakfast, listening to me, talking with me, and asking me to please be well as he had to go in for a couple of hours at least.
So...here I am...it's been 1.5hrs since he left. I have managed to speak with my daughter when she called. (I will not have my grandson this afternoon, which is good, even though I miss him.) I have washed my hair...a major accomplishment! And, even more major, I spoke, coherently, with a woman from hospice who got my message about wanting to play my dulcimer there. We have set up an appt. for the 30th for me to go in to meet her and another volunteer coordinator so they can hear me play, then they will set me up with a schedule to go play for the patients. Phew! That's big scary, but GOOD scary as I know it will help me and I will love helping anyone who might need a bit of respite. I've been completely upfront with them about where I am coming from and why I want to be doing this for myself as much as for them. I thought that sounded a little selfish, but they seemed to completely understand. This feels like an incredibly HUGE step out into the community. We've lived here seven and a half years now; granted I was mostly an invalid for the first few, but it's still been a long time away from folks.
And, now, my Siamese, Kipling, who never in his life has climbed up onto my desk, has just, for the second time in two days, crept very carefully over to the pad in front of my keyboard and lied down on it, right in front so that it is difficult for me to type and I cannot reach the track ball. Yesterday, he very carefully nested right over the track ball like a biddy hen! I guess he wants me to stop, so that's all for now. Thanks for listening!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Next Phase - Admitting Depression
I met with the therapist, Doc L yesterday. It was our third visit. I used some absolutes whilst talking about a girlfriend, saying I would never be talking with her again and I recounted some of the same "forever" statements I knew I'd used the night before to my husband. So...this week, I am to watch out and remove the absos from my vocab.:-)
I also, with Doc L's help, gave myself permission to let go of the nanowrimo novel, for this year and not beat myself up over not completing it. In case that is as clear as mud, nanowrimo is a wonderful, crazy, fun event which comes about every November in which writers commit, to themselves and the world if they wish it to see, to write a 50,000 novel in the month of November. One turns off their Inner Editor and just goes for to it. I have done this, successfully, in 2006 and 2008. I think I am not supposed to do it on unevenly numbered years, so I'll try again next year. This was a HUGE decision as I was really disappointed and feeling as though I'd let myself down. I was really down on myself. Way down. Okay, I know you've got the picture. I was bummed!:-)
One of the things I've noticed since starting with Doc L and starting AlterKATE, my op/ed voice seems to be coming back! I lost it around 2000 and, no matter how hard I tried, it just wasn't there. Well, I think there are glimmers and I am going to work on my first piece, probably in a different blog. I'll post when I get it done.
Anyway, one of my tasks this week is to clear off the jewellery-making table and make a piece of jewellery to show Doc L next time we meet which will be after Thanksgiving week. When we moved my office PC out of that room, everything just was dumped, so the jewellery table is slightly buried. It won't take long, but the mental effort seems so much, today. Maybe later in the day.
The major thing I have admitted this week is it is not just anxiety, it is depression. Doc Jeri and I spoke about it on Monday and Tuesday. Doc L and I spoke of it on Wednesday when he agreed with her, that some medicine might help. They both think it is likely, given past events, that my serotonin levels are depleted; meds may help bring them back up. Later that same day, I went back to Doc J and asked her for medicine to help. She gave me samples to try of Lexapro with words of caution, encouragement, and a big hug. She is the most wondrous doctor. She told me she was proud of me for taking this step as she knows how reluctant I am to take any prescription meds and it was difficult for me, as a healer, to admit I couldn't take care of myself, on my own, this time even with the wonderful support and love I've received from friends. I feel very fortunate to have such friends and such caregivers as her and Doc L.
So, I took half of a Lexapro yesterday about 2pm and within the hour I was having a panic attack thinking maybe it was causing worse symptoms. I decided to ride it out a bit, felt fairly sleepy so tried napping...was too restless, much to the disgust of my cats. By 5pm I was pacing, then called Rog to beg him to come home early. He had to stop at the grocery store. I had to get out of the house; by then I was really in a tizzy. I loaded up the dog, my O2, and car keys; went out to the car, in the dark, let the dog in, climbed in and started the car from the passenger seat. We waited for Rog to get home as we would ride along to the grocery store. It would have been a lot easier for him to stop on his way home, get what we needed and just come home, but he came to get me. He knows how much even just getting out to the store can mean to me when I am feeling so frazzled and anxious.
For the first time ever, just before he came home and with his agreement, I took a generic xanax. I've never done that before, always used them only at night. Doc J and I both hope the Lexapro will be so effective I will not need the xanax, but for now it is available. She said it can take up to six weeks for the Lexapro to take effect.
My hair has really been an indication of stress and moods. I have always washed it every morning of my life until the last few months when I just haven't felt like it. Lately, it has been coming out in handfulls, it seems like, and has been dry and flyaway. Some of that is from dehydration, but Doc J says it is also from the stress.
This whole thing seems to be about my body wanting more exercise and care taken with it AND my mind catching up to my body. I had been in that invalid state of not being physically able to do much for so many years...there's a lot of old thinking which needs to be cleared out. Here's hoping the meds, therapy, and my friends and my own self can pull it off!
I also, with Doc L's help, gave myself permission to let go of the nanowrimo novel, for this year and not beat myself up over not completing it. In case that is as clear as mud, nanowrimo is a wonderful, crazy, fun event which comes about every November in which writers commit, to themselves and the world if they wish it to see, to write a 50,000 novel in the month of November. One turns off their Inner Editor and just goes for to it. I have done this, successfully, in 2006 and 2008. I think I am not supposed to do it on unevenly numbered years, so I'll try again next year. This was a HUGE decision as I was really disappointed and feeling as though I'd let myself down. I was really down on myself. Way down. Okay, I know you've got the picture. I was bummed!:-)
One of the things I've noticed since starting with Doc L and starting AlterKATE, my op/ed voice seems to be coming back! I lost it around 2000 and, no matter how hard I tried, it just wasn't there. Well, I think there are glimmers and I am going to work on my first piece, probably in a different blog. I'll post when I get it done.
Anyway, one of my tasks this week is to clear off the jewellery-making table and make a piece of jewellery to show Doc L next time we meet which will be after Thanksgiving week. When we moved my office PC out of that room, everything just was dumped, so the jewellery table is slightly buried. It won't take long, but the mental effort seems so much, today. Maybe later in the day.
The major thing I have admitted this week is it is not just anxiety, it is depression. Doc Jeri and I spoke about it on Monday and Tuesday. Doc L and I spoke of it on Wednesday when he agreed with her, that some medicine might help. They both think it is likely, given past events, that my serotonin levels are depleted; meds may help bring them back up. Later that same day, I went back to Doc J and asked her for medicine to help. She gave me samples to try of Lexapro with words of caution, encouragement, and a big hug. She is the most wondrous doctor. She told me she was proud of me for taking this step as she knows how reluctant I am to take any prescription meds and it was difficult for me, as a healer, to admit I couldn't take care of myself, on my own, this time even with the wonderful support and love I've received from friends. I feel very fortunate to have such friends and such caregivers as her and Doc L.
So, I took half of a Lexapro yesterday about 2pm and within the hour I was having a panic attack thinking maybe it was causing worse symptoms. I decided to ride it out a bit, felt fairly sleepy so tried napping...was too restless, much to the disgust of my cats. By 5pm I was pacing, then called Rog to beg him to come home early. He had to stop at the grocery store. I had to get out of the house; by then I was really in a tizzy. I loaded up the dog, my O2, and car keys; went out to the car, in the dark, let the dog in, climbed in and started the car from the passenger seat. We waited for Rog to get home as we would ride along to the grocery store. It would have been a lot easier for him to stop on his way home, get what we needed and just come home, but he came to get me. He knows how much even just getting out to the store can mean to me when I am feeling so frazzled and anxious.
For the first time ever, just before he came home and with his agreement, I took a generic xanax. I've never done that before, always used them only at night. Doc J and I both hope the Lexapro will be so effective I will not need the xanax, but for now it is available. She said it can take up to six weeks for the Lexapro to take effect.
My hair has really been an indication of stress and moods. I have always washed it every morning of my life until the last few months when I just haven't felt like it. Lately, it has been coming out in handfulls, it seems like, and has been dry and flyaway. Some of that is from dehydration, but Doc J says it is also from the stress.
This whole thing seems to be about my body wanting more exercise and care taken with it AND my mind catching up to my body. I had been in that invalid state of not being physically able to do much for so many years...there's a lot of old thinking which needs to be cleared out. Here's hoping the meds, therapy, and my friends and my own self can pull it off!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Catch-up No. 15
Fifteenth Installment 17 Nov. 2009:
One of the constant sources of anxiety is family, esp. my brother who lives in town and a couple of other family members. I have to constantly set boundaries with him. He has a way of making everything sound like everyone else's fault...really into a victimhead...has been most of his life. He hates his part-time senior jobs and wants someone to listen to him piss and moan. When I shut him off, he always says, "I knew you wouldn't want to hear about it!" Usually I just hang up; today I said, "then why do you start?" It gets worse then, so I ALWAYS hang up. The only reason I called was to tell him he got some important mail in our mailbox which neither of us can figure out why...where they got our addy. He'll sort that out, at least.
He is very toxic for me to be around. He is all alone. We are tied up in his music with him, to some extent. So...I don't feel as though I can disown him, but I will continue with very ltd. phone calls and very infrequent in-person visits. He is a genuis composer...too bad that seems to go hand-in-hand with social disfunctions. It is very upsetting to even speak with him when he is like this.
I can tell the therapist and I will have much to work on tomorrow.
One of the constant sources of anxiety is family, esp. my brother who lives in town and a couple of other family members. I have to constantly set boundaries with him. He has a way of making everything sound like everyone else's fault...really into a victimhead...has been most of his life. He hates his part-time senior jobs and wants someone to listen to him piss and moan. When I shut him off, he always says, "I knew you wouldn't want to hear about it!" Usually I just hang up; today I said, "then why do you start?" It gets worse then, so I ALWAYS hang up. The only reason I called was to tell him he got some important mail in our mailbox which neither of us can figure out why...where they got our addy. He'll sort that out, at least.
He is very toxic for me to be around. He is all alone. We are tied up in his music with him, to some extent. So...I don't feel as though I can disown him, but I will continue with very ltd. phone calls and very infrequent in-person visits. He is a genuis composer...too bad that seems to go hand-in-hand with social disfunctions. It is very upsetting to even speak with him when he is like this.
I can tell the therapist and I will have much to work on tomorrow.
Catch-up No. 14
Fourteenth Installment 16 Nov. 2009:
I have let go of a large hunk of anxiety today. I saw Doc J, the one who does my OMT. She has agreed to be my interim doc until I get set up with a new one who is coming in Dec. THIS is a HUGE relief to me as I needed advice/direction on several things which she addressed, today. I will still take xanax at bedtime for a little while longer as it is really working for me as far as sleep is concerned. I had cut back to 1/2 pill over the weekend as I didn't know when I would be able to get a refill, but 1/2 really didn't do much. I think that lack of sleep really didn't help this weekend, at all, so I expect the next few days to improve. I will also be seeing the therapist on Wed. and we will talk about depression etc. then. Just knowing I have a doc to rely on makes me feel so much better.
I have also decided to cut myself some slack and not worry about getting the 50,000 word novel done in Nov. I am up to about 23,000 words; should be at least to 30,000 by now. Not sure i have it in me this time to finish that quickly, so...if I do, I do, if not, it's okay. I did it in 2006 & 2008. Maybe I was supposed to wait and only do it on even years...2010, here I come.:-)
I have let go of a large hunk of anxiety today. I saw Doc J, the one who does my OMT. She has agreed to be my interim doc until I get set up with a new one who is coming in Dec. THIS is a HUGE relief to me as I needed advice/direction on several things which she addressed, today. I will still take xanax at bedtime for a little while longer as it is really working for me as far as sleep is concerned. I had cut back to 1/2 pill over the weekend as I didn't know when I would be able to get a refill, but 1/2 really didn't do much. I think that lack of sleep really didn't help this weekend, at all, so I expect the next few days to improve. I will also be seeing the therapist on Wed. and we will talk about depression etc. then. Just knowing I have a doc to rely on makes me feel so much better.
I have also decided to cut myself some slack and not worry about getting the 50,000 word novel done in Nov. I am up to about 23,000 words; should be at least to 30,000 by now. Not sure i have it in me this time to finish that quickly, so...if I do, I do, if not, it's okay. I did it in 2006 & 2008. Maybe I was supposed to wait and only do it on even years...2010, here I come.:-)
Catch-up No. 13 and some - almost there!
Thirteenth Installment Plus! 10 Nov. 2009:
I think I am going to move over to my blog, AlterKATE and let this thread go along, accessible for emergencies, if any, and/or reinforcement. A lot of what I have written here could be part of my blog (and may be, as I may copy and paste some of it)...so the bulk of my writing of recovery will be there from now on.
Thank you all so very, very much. I met with the therapist yesterday. He has a giant, two year old golden retriever named Gus, who stands about 31-32 inches at the top of his head. BIG, quiet, loving Gus. His "dad" plays guitar, just bought a mando, AND once made a dulcimer from a kit! I will get a group going, yet! More on my blog, later, I think, about how things went. It was very interesting...it's all about balance with me..now where have I heard that before!? Ha ha ha!
PLUS:
This is probably a sleep issue, as in I never do well the day after no sleep, but if any of you could send a few thoughts my way tonight, I would really appreciate it. I am feeling anxiety and depression trying to move in.
Rog was called out at 130a last night. I went with him as he thought it would be a problem he could resolve at the station, but had to go up the mountain. Lots of very dark, winding, paved and dirt roads. Takes about an hour to get to the site. It was cold and windy. We finally got to be about 530a. Neither of us is used to that any more!
Go away vague feelings of disquiet.
Go away aura of malaise.
I shall call on my friends,
Take a deep breath
And, blow you out!
Thanks for your support and inspiration, my friends.
AND: 15 Nov. 2009:
Did get a huge heart smile this morning. M-the grandson came over with his mp3 player; the one we gave him for his birthday. I loaded some folk and trad on it, all friends, of course. Imagine how good it felt then when I heard him wailing away at the top of his lungs, "Hey-ho, nobody home, no ..eat..no..." and then, "a sold, a sold, a sold cake, please...tress, a sold cake, apple a pear, plum or ...ree...anything ...TO MAKE US ALL MERRY!" I sang along, so he now knows more of the words. But he announced it was his FAV. except that I haven't loaded Bill O'Shea, yet, which also a fav.:-)
I think I am going to move over to my blog, AlterKATE and let this thread go along, accessible for emergencies, if any, and/or reinforcement. A lot of what I have written here could be part of my blog (and may be, as I may copy and paste some of it)...so the bulk of my writing of recovery will be there from now on.
Thank you all so very, very much. I met with the therapist yesterday. He has a giant, two year old golden retriever named Gus, who stands about 31-32 inches at the top of his head. BIG, quiet, loving Gus. His "dad" plays guitar, just bought a mando, AND once made a dulcimer from a kit! I will get a group going, yet! More on my blog, later, I think, about how things went. It was very interesting...it's all about balance with me..now where have I heard that before!? Ha ha ha!
PLUS:
This is probably a sleep issue, as in I never do well the day after no sleep, but if any of you could send a few thoughts my way tonight, I would really appreciate it. I am feeling anxiety and depression trying to move in.
Rog was called out at 130a last night. I went with him as he thought it would be a problem he could resolve at the station, but had to go up the mountain. Lots of very dark, winding, paved and dirt roads. Takes about an hour to get to the site. It was cold and windy. We finally got to be about 530a. Neither of us is used to that any more!
Go away vague feelings of disquiet.
Go away aura of malaise.
I shall call on my friends,
Take a deep breath
And, blow you out!
Thanks for your support and inspiration, my friends.
AND: 15 Nov. 2009:
Did get a huge heart smile this morning. M-the grandson came over with his mp3 player; the one we gave him for his birthday. I loaded some folk and trad on it, all friends, of course. Imagine how good it felt then when I heard him wailing away at the top of his lungs, "Hey-ho, nobody home, no ..eat..no..." and then, "a sold, a sold, a sold cake, please...tress, a sold cake, apple a pear, plum or ...ree...anything ...TO MAKE US ALL MERRY!" I sang along, so he now knows more of the words. But he announced it was his FAV. except that I haven't loaded Bill O'Shea, yet, which also a fav.:-)
Catch-up No. 12
Twelfth Installment 8 Nov. 2009:
I remember I tend to go great guns then crash, so I am trying to temper myself and stay in balance.
I may have done this subconsciously today. I was to help clean house then go to a nanowrimo write-in event, to write for four hours on my novel, in a nice quiet library space.
We did clean the house. We took M-the grandson a rocking chair as part of his b-day present for next week. I was going to put something on ebay today which left my clothes full of sticky fibers, so at about 11a, I stripped, put them in the wash and decided what else I could wear to meet my fellow nano-ers.
Along about 1145a, Rog was gone buying beer and bringing me back lunch when I put on the other trousers which I fixed; I go to fill my pockets and realise my cellphone is being washed, squeaky-dead clean in the washer, in my pants' pocket, along with my poor crystal, lapis and a couple of other stonepeople! They are okay, the phone is toast.
I find out Rog was planning on driving me in anyway, so that's okay, but then I realise I will have to find a phone to call him when I am ready and I will have too much to carry around to do so, SO, I call my almost six year old grandson and ask if I might borrow his cellphone!**bg** Of course, he said "Sure!"
About that time, I realise it is after twelve o'clock, the event starts at 1p and I haven't washed my hair, eaten, or finished getting dressed. So, I wash, I dress, I sit down to eat. It's okay, it's only 1230, I thought. I tell Rog I'll be ready in a minute, which I am, but the clock says 1240p! We take off. He's found me a nifty little bag for the mini-lap and he carries it, my water, and extra O2 tanks out to the car and we are off with a quick stop at M's for the cellphone. We get a ways down the road when I remember I forgot my weakest glasses for using with the mini-lap, so we go back with Rog getting instructions of where to find them and to grab the external rollerball mouse. All the while, I am trimming and sawing away on my fingernails with a file as they bug me on the keyboard if they are too long (besides when playing instruments like the fiddle and dulcimer, I know!) THEN, we start off once more.
Twenty minutes later and we are there. Only the library lady is in the special room set aside for nanowrimo. Silly me, on a beautiful Sunday, I expected scads of insane people, pulling their hair out with bleary eyes, mumbling two thousand, four hundred and ninety three, only forty-seven thousand and some to go. Oh gawd! I'll never do it! And/or, some zippy thing flouncing in and singing out, I am over the hump and on the down slope at thirty-five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine! Instead there is a nice library lady who says a couple more folks said they'd be in sometime and... there's me. Rog helped me get set up. I visited with her for a few minutes then put the stick in the USB to upload the latest version of Ranch on Poison Spider hot off my PC at home, when I see I saved it in the wrong format...ALL of the html is showing. I'll never be able to write with all of that muck. (I have Open Office on my mini-lap.) So, I start looking for how to convert. (I am new to OO.) By the time I figure out, I think, how to use the OO converter, I have saved all versions with the html showing, so now the converter thinks it is supposed to be part of the rtf or some such, so I get the same thing. The librarian offered to look for a converter online, but didn't find anything quickly and by that time I figured something was telling me I wasn't supposed to be there, so I called The Knight in Shining Armour Services. They sent over their oldest, most experienced champion who loaded my gear and me into the chariot and brought me home, although it was in a roundabout fashion, past a couple of other places where he was employed. So, here's my writing of the day...for you, my friends. I hope it made ya laugh, at least. And, not to worry, I have the formatting all figured out and am going to check with the branch library about having a write in nearer to home.:-)
I remember I tend to go great guns then crash, so I am trying to temper myself and stay in balance.
I may have done this subconsciously today. I was to help clean house then go to a nanowrimo write-in event, to write for four hours on my novel, in a nice quiet library space.
We did clean the house. We took M-the grandson a rocking chair as part of his b-day present for next week. I was going to put something on ebay today which left my clothes full of sticky fibers, so at about 11a, I stripped, put them in the wash and decided what else I could wear to meet my fellow nano-ers.
Along about 1145a, Rog was gone buying beer and bringing me back lunch when I put on the other trousers which I fixed; I go to fill my pockets and realise my cellphone is being washed, squeaky-dead clean in the washer, in my pants' pocket, along with my poor crystal, lapis and a couple of other stonepeople! They are okay, the phone is toast.
I find out Rog was planning on driving me in anyway, so that's okay, but then I realise I will have to find a phone to call him when I am ready and I will have too much to carry around to do so, SO, I call my almost six year old grandson and ask if I might borrow his cellphone!**bg** Of course, he said "Sure!"
About that time, I realise it is after twelve o'clock, the event starts at 1p and I haven't washed my hair, eaten, or finished getting dressed. So, I wash, I dress, I sit down to eat. It's okay, it's only 1230, I thought. I tell Rog I'll be ready in a minute, which I am, but the clock says 1240p! We take off. He's found me a nifty little bag for the mini-lap and he carries it, my water, and extra O2 tanks out to the car and we are off with a quick stop at M's for the cellphone. We get a ways down the road when I remember I forgot my weakest glasses for using with the mini-lap, so we go back with Rog getting instructions of where to find them and to grab the external rollerball mouse. All the while, I am trimming and sawing away on my fingernails with a file as they bug me on the keyboard if they are too long (besides when playing instruments like the fiddle and dulcimer, I know!) THEN, we start off once more.
Twenty minutes later and we are there. Only the library lady is in the special room set aside for nanowrimo. Silly me, on a beautiful Sunday, I expected scads of insane people, pulling their hair out with bleary eyes, mumbling two thousand, four hundred and ninety three, only forty-seven thousand and some to go. Oh gawd! I'll never do it! And/or, some zippy thing flouncing in and singing out, I am over the hump and on the down slope at thirty-five thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine! Instead there is a nice library lady who says a couple more folks said they'd be in sometime and... there's me. Rog helped me get set up. I visited with her for a few minutes then put the stick in the USB to upload the latest version of Ranch on Poison Spider hot off my PC at home, when I see I saved it in the wrong format...ALL of the html is showing. I'll never be able to write with all of that muck. (I have Open Office on my mini-lap.) So, I start looking for how to convert. (I am new to OO.) By the time I figure out, I think, how to use the OO converter, I have saved all versions with the html showing, so now the converter thinks it is supposed to be part of the rtf or some such, so I get the same thing. The librarian offered to look for a converter online, but didn't find anything quickly and by that time I figured something was telling me I wasn't supposed to be there, so I called The Knight in Shining Armour Services. They sent over their oldest, most experienced champion who loaded my gear and me into the chariot and brought me home, although it was in a roundabout fashion, past a couple of other places where he was employed. So, here's my writing of the day...for you, my friends. I hope it made ya laugh, at least. And, not to worry, I have the formatting all figured out and am going to check with the branch library about having a write in nearer to home.:-)
Catch-up No. 11
Eleventh Installment 8 Nov. 2009:
So far, another great day here, although my house is a mess. We played today! Did go get cat food and mail at the post office, but then we picked up M and went to a culture fest at the downtown library. We were there for about 3-4 hours. It was small, but jam packed and wonderful. There were booths with country info, ethnic food & clothing, and some with musical instruments for China, Uganda, Nepal, Mexico, Navajo Nation & Lakota, Congo, Thailand, and some others which I missed.
We spent an hour listening to a guitarist talk about the classical guitar through the ages, playing beautiful examples and passing around copies of the sheet music, complete with tablature from the 1500s. Then we spent another hour listening to a Native American drummer/singer and his friend who makes and plays NA flutes. Beautiful! He even had a flute made from a sunflower stalk! M did pretty good at sitting and listening. He was esp. interested in seeing all of the notes on paper and realizing the guy was playing all of them. He also drummed with the Ugandan guy who was really good with him.
We are home now, so it's catch-up time on housework, but I don't care. It was so much fun to just go play.
So far, another great day here, although my house is a mess. We played today! Did go get cat food and mail at the post office, but then we picked up M and went to a culture fest at the downtown library. We were there for about 3-4 hours. It was small, but jam packed and wonderful. There were booths with country info, ethnic food & clothing, and some with musical instruments for China, Uganda, Nepal, Mexico, Navajo Nation & Lakota, Congo, Thailand, and some others which I missed.
We spent an hour listening to a guitarist talk about the classical guitar through the ages, playing beautiful examples and passing around copies of the sheet music, complete with tablature from the 1500s. Then we spent another hour listening to a Native American drummer/singer and his friend who makes and plays NA flutes. Beautiful! He even had a flute made from a sunflower stalk! M did pretty good at sitting and listening. He was esp. interested in seeing all of the notes on paper and realizing the guy was playing all of them. He also drummed with the Ugandan guy who was really good with him.
We are home now, so it's catch-up time on housework, but I don't care. It was so much fun to just go play.
Catch-up No. 10
Tenth Installment 7 Nov. 2009:
I had a very busy day which was fun, but I am ready to fall in bed. Had M from breakfast-time at 730a as his mom had to go to an early mtg. So I dropped him off at school at 830a, came home and did a few things, then it was time to pick him up for lunch. We went to the park for a fast-food picnic, then he played on the slides, etc. with another little kindergarten boy who was there. Then we headed to town to look at shoes. I went out on a limb and decided to try Birkenstocks, again, for the first time in about five years. They feel very strange to me, but I love their look and they are just ME, so I hope that I can wear them. I put tape on the bottoms so they won't scuff. I will only try them out at home for a few days as they will refund my money if they don't work out. I am hoping the work Dr. J has done with my feet is enough for me to tolerate them again.
Then we stopped at the other shoe store to get my deposit back for some shoes which have been on backorder for who knows how long, so I wasn't going to wait. Then, we hit the road with M complaining that I was wearing him out! Then we went to a small newspaper's office to pick up rolls of unused paper for art projects. They just give them away for free. They are really great for a kid to have a blast with. We got one for his house and one for ours. About then, I realised my tank of O2 was empty, so we hightailed it to the O2 place which wasn't far away and got another bottle. By then, I was getting tired, too, so we headed home. Morgan managed to stay awake. We dropped off one roll of paper at his house, came home, went potty, he got out the UNO cards as that's what he'd been asking to do all day, and I got us half bagels and OJ. He'd just dealt the cards when his mom called him. He thought she said she'd be here soon, then we heard a beep-beep...she was in the driveway. By this time it's 330p, but we're having so much fun, he begs to stay she says yes, I beat his socks off a couple of hands of UNO, then he went home. It's okay, he beat my socks off this morning before school about six games worth.
All in all it was a pretty good day baring a couple of twinges of anxiousness and some aches and pains and feeling tired, but you know what? It is a good tired because it is from being so active instead being tired from illness etc. Wow, what a new and welcome feeling.
I have not worked on the novel today or yesterday except in my head. I have a bunch of stuff I need to add in. On Sunday, there is a NaNoWriMo Write-In Event at the local library...four hours of nice quiet space filled with writers tapping away on their greatest hope. I've always eschewed getting into groups like that because I write well on my own, but I think it will be fun to just meet others and, if someone is fairly new, who knows, maybe I can show them the ropes.:-)
Tomorrow we may take M to see a classical guitarist and a Native American dancer and singer at the library's culture fest.
I had a very busy day which was fun, but I am ready to fall in bed. Had M from breakfast-time at 730a as his mom had to go to an early mtg. So I dropped him off at school at 830a, came home and did a few things, then it was time to pick him up for lunch. We went to the park for a fast-food picnic, then he played on the slides, etc. with another little kindergarten boy who was there. Then we headed to town to look at shoes. I went out on a limb and decided to try Birkenstocks, again, for the first time in about five years. They feel very strange to me, but I love their look and they are just ME, so I hope that I can wear them. I put tape on the bottoms so they won't scuff. I will only try them out at home for a few days as they will refund my money if they don't work out. I am hoping the work Dr. J has done with my feet is enough for me to tolerate them again.
Then we stopped at the other shoe store to get my deposit back for some shoes which have been on backorder for who knows how long, so I wasn't going to wait. Then, we hit the road with M complaining that I was wearing him out! Then we went to a small newspaper's office to pick up rolls of unused paper for art projects. They just give them away for free. They are really great for a kid to have a blast with. We got one for his house and one for ours. About then, I realised my tank of O2 was empty, so we hightailed it to the O2 place which wasn't far away and got another bottle. By then, I was getting tired, too, so we headed home. Morgan managed to stay awake. We dropped off one roll of paper at his house, came home, went potty, he got out the UNO cards as that's what he'd been asking to do all day, and I got us half bagels and OJ. He'd just dealt the cards when his mom called him. He thought she said she'd be here soon, then we heard a beep-beep...she was in the driveway. By this time it's 330p, but we're having so much fun, he begs to stay she says yes, I beat his socks off a couple of hands of UNO, then he went home. It's okay, he beat my socks off this morning before school about six games worth.
All in all it was a pretty good day baring a couple of twinges of anxiousness and some aches and pains and feeling tired, but you know what? It is a good tired because it is from being so active instead being tired from illness etc. Wow, what a new and welcome feeling.
I have not worked on the novel today or yesterday except in my head. I have a bunch of stuff I need to add in. On Sunday, there is a NaNoWriMo Write-In Event at the local library...four hours of nice quiet space filled with writers tapping away on their greatest hope. I've always eschewed getting into groups like that because I write well on my own, but I think it will be fun to just meet others and, if someone is fairly new, who knows, maybe I can show them the ropes.:-)
Tomorrow we may take M to see a classical guitarist and a Native American dancer and singer at the library's culture fest.
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