I am attempting to complete an online training course and I have a headache from hell and it is raining. These three items are conspiring to tempt me to curl up under my desk with Herbert the Stinky and take a nap. I would rock a nap right now rather than learning about OSHA standards for electrical safety. **blink**
There is just not enough diet coke in the universe to keep a girl up for this. **big yawn**
In other news I have a continual problem that I don’t know if anyone else has? Basically whenever I manage to shave my legs I invariably miss a stripe on the back of my legs. I have no answer to why this happens or why I only notice it when I am no-where near a razor (at work; at the beach). I wish I was like this one lady I see at the beach who is all
“screw y’all—I don’t shave” and wear a bikini. She has thighburns (like sideburns…but on your thighs) but they aren’t thick or scary. She is so comfortable in her own skin that she doesn’t look weird—yet I miss one stray hair and it annoys the ever loving crap out of me.
To continue along the path of H’s body and how it is annoying her today please let me discuss pants with you. I find pants…challenging. Additionally, I consider skirts to be basically pants because to prevent thigh burn I wear bicycle shorts underneath. So, to summarize: pants = difficult for me. I invariably buy my pants too big. Why? Here is my pop psychology reasoning: when I moved back to the united states at age 17 and was required to go into high school for a senior year…well, my mom had no money. So as I continued to gain weight and my pants got tighter and tighter I recall having heartburn that hurt me so badly I would cry between classes because I knew we couldn’t afford new pants. I wore loose shirts and unbuttoned my pants whenever I could. It was horrible. So I think some part of my mind (and by mind I mean belly) is all “NEVER AGAIN BITCH!” and I get uber big pants. For a little more than 3 years this entire problem was negated by coveralls…they did not constrain the belly, they were comfy, and overall I am a total fan. Large pants were rarely flattering but invariably comfy for sitting in. Recently I have been losing weight…enough to make a sincere size difference and when buying pants I succumbed to the pressure of buying “pants that fit”. So now I have these pants…they look really nice and all but it appears I have developed (am finally showing) that I have a ‘fat pad’ when I sit down. I don’t hate it…but it is a little weird and when I sit for a long time…well, my tummy gets squished by my pants…and I dislike that.
…and thus ends my random story for today. J
Actually, shit really ain’t that wacky. This is me posting an update; a comprehensive update—not a quick one. I say that because I am fairly certain that every “update” I have ever done included me saying “quick”. Which, to be fair, is completely lame.
So. How am I? Still breathing…what the hell else y’all want? Actually, for the first time in a long time I feel mild – moderately sane. *deep exhalation* ’bout time, right?
*shrugs* I don’t know how to explain the emotional turmoil and doom-filled existence I just survived which began in January. I always wondered if losing my mind would feel like when you pop a zit…you know, hard pressure with ow. ow. ow. and then POP and a relieved sigh. Turns out that particular joy is only related to acne (holy crap, I really love popping zits…that is probably not so normal. *sigh*)
Anyway, I have learned a lot about myself of late, ready? Okay:
- I write better in lists. *grin*
When stressed/depressed/scared/lonely/upset I withdrawal and find checking email, answering the phone, or just pretending to function to be exhausting and all I want to do is hide in my bedroom and avoid the world. This goes against everything I have always thought of myself. In public I am extroverted, exciting, animated, and feed off the energy of other people. When home I just sort of shrink into a quiet place and recharge. I am currently struggling to figure out whether recharging is healthy for me or just escaping. I really don’t know.
- During a visit to my family before starting this new job my father used the term fragile to describe me while we were talking over breakfast. Fragile. I have never used fragile to describe myself and I don’t think I like it. However, a woman in my recent training class declared that I was a rascal. Rascally is a term I really like to use as a descriptor of myself.
- I had never dealt with the death of my marriage. I did not go into marriage lightly and I truly thought it would last forever. As I watched myself becoming someone I didn’t want to be and devolving into a hated cycle of behavior I knew it was time to get out. So, the paperwork was sent (for a second time) in early January and on my birthday (July 1) it was finalized. I spent this year’s birthday in bed grieving over the death of my marriage; the worst part about this grief is I didn’t know where it was coming from and I truly thought I had lost my mind. Thankfully I have a wonderful friend who spent some time with me via skype and helped me realize what the hell was wrong with me. I hope I never deceive myself like that again—the pain and horror of not knowing what was wrong with me and why I wanted to kill myself to get rid of the rubbery slimy feelings of despair and the thought that all of my hope died. This was one of the worst times in my life.
- I was unemployed for the very first time in my life after the refinery closed. I hated it, but needed the break that came after the closure more than I ever needed anything in my life. The whole thing was so bad and stressful and I spent the 4 months from announcement to closure attempting to make things better for people around me and I have no idea if I succeeded. The company I worked for at the end was a very challenging one and to be perfectly honest the idea of continuing to work for them seemed horrible to me. So I avoided them and turned down their offers.
- Because I found a job here. A very good job making a lot less money than I used to and I am scared crapless that I am going to be bored out of my mind. But the benefits are mindblowing. They want me here. They want my knowledge. They are willing to invest in training. I couldn’t ask for more than that but I think I will do much better when I have other people to work around. Being by myself is not so great for me.
Physically I am healthier than I have been in years; doing yoga and am carefully medicated. I take a lot of medications every day—why? Because I am diabetic, suffer from anxiety, depression, constant neuropathic pain, and just for funsies I have adult ADD. Yes, yes, we all have ADD. But I was finding myself so overwhelmed by daily tasks that I could no longer function; so that lead to (more) medication. Bright side of being medicated for ADD? I can accomplish things on a daily basis. Down side of being medicated for ADD? I can no longer hyperfocus on things (like my blog) to the exclusion of the rest of the world. The best way I can describe a hyperfocus episode is imagine an incredibly messy living room? Okay, now instead of being able to pick up the living room and make it visibly appealing I will spend 6 hours cleaning a table in the corner. That table will have been gone over with Qtips, any loose screws replaced, the paint will be touched up and the table will be perfect and beautiful. But the damn living room would still be a mess. So, you see? By being able to clean the living room I’m better able to function.
- As an addendum to this health update I have officially begun training Herbert as my service animal. He is serving a dual function as a psychiatric service animal and a diabetic alert service animal. Why? Because I do better having him with me and the little jackass sits on me when my sugars get high and scratches the fuck out of me when I start getting low. We are up to working on him getting me the phone and getting medications. But he is pretty good at it so I feel blessed to have the little butthead in my life. But the next person who says I look too healthy to have a service animal needs to be smacked—however I will continue giving the same answer of, “thank you” before moving on with my life which is enhanced by the stupid little dog that doesn’t let me stay in my room in a depressed and panicked funk nor allow my blood sugars to get too out of control. For a 35 year old woman living alone—these are not bad things.
So, there is my update. I could list out the horrors of the past 7 months; but I am trying very hard to move forward and not dwell on the bad. These times of non-communication have lost me some friends, and I can only understand that they were hurt by my lack of availability and move forward. I’m trying. I’m breathing. I’m not always going to be happy…but one step at a time, one breath at a time.
I would appreciate the world explaining to me why in the hell if I have to be awake I struggle and stumble my way into the morning with one eye glued half closed and forget to find and wear important adult things like pants. Yet if I don’t have to be awake my body decides that at 5AM on a Sunday is the PERFECT time to WAKE UP in EXTREME OUCH with no drowsiness whatsoever. So I figured while I waited for the generic Advil to kick in I would say…hi.
I got back to STX on Thursday night after a really long and challenging training. The concepts behind the training were not difficult, it was more the rampant hell bitch of a lead trainer combined with me being in the state where the house I used to own is in the process of foreclosure where my ex continues to squat and I continue to avoid. I can say that the trip was amazing because it allowed me to remember that I had an entire life that had absolutely nothing to do with my ex-husband; I had honestly forgotten. By seeing old friends and co-workers who still care as well as meeting some pretty decent new people (not including hell bitch lead trainer) it felt like I was able to exhale a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. ~shrugs~ who knew?
However, traveling and stress and having no money and having to learn how to use a western-union type service for the first time to receive money from über boss to keep me able to eat…well, that stress left me physically ouchy as hell this morning. If I had any money I would get a massage…alas.
There is a crap ton of stuff I feel like I should write about but I am just exhausted. Not physically exhausted but sort of…soul weary? yeah, that sounds about right. soul weary. Anyway, here is a fun list of crap I should write about:
- Herbert as a service animal
- traveling with a service animal
- working for an agency (sort of) I used to see as the enemy
- diabetes is a complete bastard
- traveling with diabetes
- how people who treat diabetes by type as serious vs. no big deal could be the perfect evil of uneducated bias
- cocoa nibs and how they are delicious and the best thing that ever happened to a diabetic
- taco bell is not cuisine but it is so damn satisfying I could be convinced to move stateside for it AKA how I would get stupid fat if I lived stateside again
- my body is weird because I can take serious narcotics to reduce pain and function just fine but Advil (even generic Advil ~grin~) knocks me on my butt which is why I avoid taking ibuprofen (aka Advil) unless I can sleep. ~shrugs~ all bodies are wired a little different, huh?
So, quick round-up–things ain’t bad. surviving stuff. sort of. 🙂 Advil has kicked in and I am off to dreamland.