Thou shalt not take thy partner for granted

I have the most understanding, loyal, and accepting husband in the world. While I have been busy browbeating myself all day for my actions yesterday, he has looked at the situation with so much clarity and offered nothing but compassion and logic. Maybe when I'm feeling better I'll post the gory details of last night, and the shame I feel about it all. But what's important to me right now is making sure my husband knows how much I love him. It's so easy to become wrapped up in myself, or the stress of life, and take my amazing partner for granted. I think it was time for me to get a wake up call. Maybe this was it.

Shock Value

My internet connection is finally up and running! I've been without it for a week and going through serious withdrawals, thanks to a typical Indiana thunderstorm. I've been up all hours of the night, wishing for my internet as I fight my ever present insomnia.

I went in for my epidural on Monday afternoon, and if you ask me, it did not go so well. Last time I had it done, I had them sedate me with a drip. I decided to brave it this time. The doctor goes in under floroscopy- so he can see where he is precisely inserting the medication in the spinal space. I don't know if my nerves are just bunched up together from the herniated disks, or if he was being careless, but two separate times he touched nerves that sent literal shockwaves from my head to my feet. The first time it happened, I nearly fell off the table. The second time, I wanted to get up and leave. The doctor kept mumbling an empty apology, but I couldn't help but think to myself, 'Buddy, this is your job, and if your hands aren't steady enough, get those needles away from my fucking neck!' But instead, like a good girl, I braved the rest of the procedure.

My feet were numb right after the injections, and the doctor kept telling me it was nothing, just typical from the nerve jolt.(I've carelessly touched a live 120V socket, which is enough to shake you up a bit, but this one had me more than just a little dizzy) Yesterday, I woke up with a numb left foot, and today, it's the same. I can stick a needle in my foot and feel nothing. I've phoned the office, but no one has returned my call yet. Have I mentioned, that I'm getting really sick of doctors and waiting rooms, impatient assistants, and bossy nurses? Keeping a pain journal, logging in how I feel (with one being the best and ten being the worst)? Filling narcotic prescriptions every month and looking like a skeleton??It's all such frustrating bullshit sometimes.

If this procedure helped, I should notice within the first week. So far,I've had no relief. I'm supposed to go in for a second epidural in 2 weeks, but I'm going to be talking to my specialist first. There's no way I'm going back until my mind is at ease.

Today is a counseling day. I owe my therapist a list of ten more things I appreciate about myself, and I still haven't come up with them. I asked my husband for ideas, but like the smart guy he is, he said that would be defeating the whole purpose of the exercise. So, I've got until 2pm today to come up with something, or I go in, tail between my legs, and admit that I couldn't think of anything else I really like about myself. Won't that open up a Pandora's Box...

Weight

Today is not starting out so well. I have been wracked with guilt and crying continuously for the last hour. I don't want to get into the why's. All I know, is that it's moments like this when I wonder if I am truly capable of change. Have I made no progress over the last week,month, year... decade?

What a prime example of yesterday's counseling session. Under the covers I go.

Heavy Baggage

Counseling today! It is getting more interesting and intense as the sessions continue. Today, I had to read aloud the letter to myself, and what stuck out most to the therapist was the guilt and the shame that I carry about past mistakes and experiences. So, he did a little exercise. He threw a few blankets on me, and then kept piling things on until I was physically uncomfortable. The lesson was not lost on me. I realized that he was physically showing me the baggage I carry around on a daily basis, and how it affects my self image and state of mind. The bottom line I'm working toward accepting is that I am not the sum of my mistakes.

That's a difficult concept for me to accept. I see the truth in it, but it's very easy to continually beat myself up. I take full responsibility for the choices I've made. But, what I didn't realize is that I also take full responsibility for the things I couldn't, and can't control. I always assume everything is my fault, when in reality, that's just not the case. The guilt and shame weigh so heavily on me sometimes, which makes it very difficult to cultivate any sort of change. Letting go is hard to do. Forgiving myself is even harder. The important thing is that I am trying, and becoming more self aware every day.

Since my letter contained only one paragraph citing what I appreciate about myself, my 'homework' is to find at least ten more things I like about me. God that's hard to do, especially when my self image can be so distorted. Looking in the mirror, I often see the ugly, awkward teenager who was outcasted and afraid. I think maybe it's time to start writing notes to myself, and leaving them in key places to serve as reminders that I don't have to feel that way anymore, and I'm no longer that little girl.

Dedicated to Dubla

My husband is a huge South Park fan, but he has to bribe me to watch it with him. Once and a while I'll laugh at the statements the show makes, but most of it is tasteless garbage, in my opinion. (Actually, I'm sure garbage has a horrible taste, but that's neither here nor there.) This is for you, honey.

Isaac Hayes has voiced the character of Chef since South Park debuted. He has been let out of his contract due to his religious beliefs. Isaac was upset after a show that mocked Scientology ran, because he's a member of that group.The creators issued this statement: "This is 100 percent having to do with his faith of Scientology," "He has no problem - and he's cashed plenty of checks - with our show making fun of Christians."
Isaac issued this statement: "There is a place in this world for satire, but there is a time when satire ends and intolerance and bigotry towards religious beliefs of others begins. Religious beliefs are sacred to people, and at all times should be respected and honored. As a civil rights activist of the past 40 years, I cannot support a show that disrespects those beliefs and practices."[NME]

No more Chef? Who's next, doll,your beloved Cartman? ( I once told him he reminded me of Cartman when he's in certain moods, and he took it as a compliment. Silly boy.) As for the Scientology. Well, when the religion is founded by a science fiction writer, and Tom Cruise is lambasting Matt Lauer on tv about antidepressants, I can't help but think it screams crazy cult. Then again, I used to believe this shit- www.watchtower.org .

Don't miss this opportunity!

Why is it that some people are just suckers for multi-level marketing, and think I need to get in on it?? I did my due diligence with www.arbonne.com and I will never buy the stuff or have a party again. It was a 2 hour long presentation on how this makeup and skin care is the fastest growing, best quality...Yada yada yada... My Neutrogena is a hell of a lot cheaper and seemed to work far better than this stuff.

Now,my dear old dad has a new business venture-www.unitedtsi.com that he wants me to get into. I checked out the link, and maybe I'm just a cynic to the core, but it looked like hogwash to me... A pay it forward scheme designed to make you wealthy? C'mon now. My parents have always been drawn to this stuff; Amway, phone services, vitamins, jewelry, make up... I guess if you really wanted to devote yourself 100%, it's something you could make good money at. But I didn't see my mom nor my dad make a substancial income from any of them. I'm not interested in 'investing' into that bullshit. The whole concept of the one my dad and stepmom are promoting seems like it is taking advantage of the giving spirit people posess. The links don't work on the page, it's very vague, and it just seems fishy to me. He's asked me to get back to him about it. I want nothing to do with it, but I feel so sorry for the man. He's in chronic pain, unemployed, and depressed. Not unlike his daughter. But he's way worse off than I am, and I don't want to contribute, in any way, to his decline. If I turn my back on something small and annoying to me, will I be an unsupportive daughter? This stems so much deeper than this stupid money making business, and I don't feel like going there... Not today.

I've just spent an hour studying insurance, and I'm no longer actually reading, but skimming, so thought I'd take a break. My head is swimming with annuities, whole and term life insurance, tax rules, policy payouts... It's starting to fit together, but it's still somewhat overlwhelming. And boring. I just keep telling myself that I need to give it a shot. This is a step forward. I don't have to keep living in the shadows.

I was up at 3 am again today, but I went to sleep by 8 last night. My schedule is so off... I used to stay up until midnight or later every night and get up at 8 or 9 am. Then I started working nights, so I was up for nearly 24 hours straight before going to bed. But these days, my mornings start before dawn, and I find myself fighting off drowsiness by supper time. Part of it can be blamed on Ripley, our sweet but bratty kitten, who wakes us up at least 3 times a night before one of us gives in and gets up. The rest is plain old depression, (although my spirits are up from a few weeks ago) pain, and worry. Aaron has adopted a similar sleeping schedule, which comes as no surprise. I feel bad for him. He's working full time while dealing with me, our financial stress, and his own problems- without getting a good night's rest. We're going through such a transition, but such is life. I'm sure things will level out.

I feel blahhhhhh

Until I met my husband, I had never heard the word 'blah' used to describe one's mood. But, sitting here on a late Monday afternoon, that's exactly how I feel.

Friday night we went out for dinner with another couple, and I even managed to make it out to a local bar to see a band play. Wow, Alli makes it out somewhere! I almost bailed after dinner, but thanks to a little pep talk from everyone, I went and had fun.

I spent the rest of the weekend almost entirely in bed. Saturday, Aaron had the boys over to play some new Xbox crap, and I had no desire to compete with the dueling testosterone levels and trash talk. They played for 8 hours, so I caught up on last week's missed sleep. Aaron tried to bribe me to go shopping, (which is a ploy that would normally work,) but all I wanted to do was hibernate. Yesterday, I was soooo groggy, and again, didn't move much, except from the bedroom to the living room. Ripley, my bratty kitten, kept her schedule the same, waking me up at 4am like clockwork both mornings. Aren't kids the ones who are supposed to wake you up for early feedings?

Today, I've managed to get some housework done, and the groceries bought, but I still feel like crashing. It's just now dinnertime, and I feel like I'm ready for bed. What am I, 80?

So tired.....

Buckling down

My newest assignment from my counselor is to write a letter to myself. In it, I'm supposed to reveal what I resent, regret, and appreciate about myself, my choices, and my experiences. So far, I've written 4 pages filled solely with resentments and regrets. I can't say that I'm surprised. Who knows how long the letter will be when I'm done. I'm guessing that it's going to be an exercise in forgiveness and letting go of guilt.

I've also finally started studying for my Life and Health Insurance license. It's been seven years since I was in school, and studying doesn't come so easily anymore. It's overwhelming to all of a sudden have to learn and retain information about something completely foreign. To be honest, it's not all that interesting- it reminds me of economics in college. But even if I get licensed and don't like the work, it will only be part time. It will be in an office, and I like that sort of atmosphere, plus, it will look good on my resume. Despite dropping out of college, I've held some great jobs. I've worked as a pharmacy tech in a hospital, a curator's assistant at the Geological Survey of Canada,and I was a well rounded receptionist at a large financial firm.

Since moving to the US, I've learned the value of hard labor, and having an education. It's still very possible that I will go back to school part time. In fact, the mere process of studying and going to a class again will help me get acclimated for when I do go back . I have options and opportunities now that I didn't before. It's important for me to keep that in mind when I'm in a panic about learning all of this new material. It's just time to dust the ol' brain off and put it to good use.

55 Things About Me

1. I consider myself an introvert, but if I know you well, I am me;loud and
quirky, self effacing and even a tad bit obnoxious.

2. I love me some reality tv. I’ll admit it. But I draw the line at 'The Bachelor' and 'The Biggest Loser'.

3. I get fits of giggles over the silliest things and can’t stop laughing ridiculously hard over dumb jokes or random thoughts.

4. I don’t consider myself a flirt, yet everyone tells me I am.

5. I used to be a stripper. No, wait, an exotic dancer. Oops, let the cat out of the bag there.

6. I have a small problem with organization and neatness. I try to be neat and clean, but my evil twin comes in and messes everything right up.

7. New Kids on the Block will always have a place in my heart.

8. I am an impatient driver. Someone is always going too slow.

9. My first celebrity crush was Kirk Cameron.

10. I have an immense distaste for Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson. I think they give girls a very unhealthy image to look up to. Pretending to be dumb, or playing a ditz, is not cool.

11. My high school nickname was E.T. It stood for enormous tits. Nice, huh?

12. I can’t swim and have a fear of deep water, although I can handle the low diving board at the community pool. Lessons are on my to do list.

13. I have a bad habit of interrupting people when they speak. Especially my husband.

14. I am a clothes whore, and love to follow trends.

15. I am a cat person all the way.

16. I love the smell after a rainfall.

17. I don’t know html, and am dying to learn.

18. My parents split when I was 2, and have never uttered a kind word about each other since.

19. As much as I love long hair, I am just one of those people who looks better with short hair.

20. I always seem to pick the slowest lines at cash registers. It never fails.

21. I dance in front of the mirror often.

22. I refuse to believe that I’m not a good singer.

23. Movies? Anything, I’m a junkie. Indies are always my faves.

24. If I’m going to drink, it’s either wine or vodka.

25. My greatest fear is never achieving anything I dream of, and turning out bitter like my mom.

26. My biggest dream is to publish a memior.

27. My biggest regret is dropping out of college.

28. I hate to go a day without my internet.

29. I can be passive aggressive when I’m angry.

30. I was asked to pose for a “Hustler” magazine contest, but I chickened out. No regrets about that one.

31. I love chain restaurants, but Starbuck’s doesn’t hold a candle to small town coffee shops.

32. I’m a Scorpio, through and through.

33. I wear my emotions on my sleeve.

34. I love Dr. Phil.

35. I can be a green eyed monster called envy.

36. I believe in a combination of Nature and Nurture.

37. Sometimes I am completely reckless, manipulative or childish.

38. I am slowly learning to appreciate the NFL and PlayStation.

39. I care what people think about me. In fact, I can be downright obsessed with it.

40. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 20.

41. I am a know it all.

42. I used to be a ‘cutter.’ I hate that term. I have scars on my arms and legs to remind me.

43. I take things for granted when I know better.

44. I hate the stigma that is attached to mental illness. I still feel ashamed telling people I struggle with depression and anxiety.

45. I was once diagnosed with Adult ADD. I took medication for it, and by god, the house was clean, my mind was clear. It made me sweaty and sleepless, so I nixed it.

46. I was an illegal alien in the US for 2 years.

47. Besides writing a book, I would love to get into psychology. I feel like those of us who have been to the depths of despair, addiction, and rage can offer a slightly different point of view.

48. My kitten is obsessed with the computer. She often chases the mouse onscreen and steps all over the keyboard when I’m at my desk.

49. I have yet to travel outside the US or Canada.

50. I have a hard time keeping close friendships.

51. I’m not huge into body art, but I like some. I have two tattoos, the Asian symbol for strength between my shoulder blades, and the symbol for beauty on my hip. I would like one more, but a little more exciting and original. I also have had nearly everything pierced at one point or another. All I have pierced now, are my nipples and my belly button.

52. I take things way too personally

53. I wish my mom and I had a friendly, mature relationship.

54. I love board games. I can kick anyone's ass at Scategories!

55. Christmas is my very favorite time of year. I don't know how I went without it for 2 years.

Ashen Memories

I got my first diary on Christmas Day, 1986. It had a tiny lock and key, and I kept both my precious and disturbing thoughts in there. I was only eight, and already keeping some dark secrets. Writing became an outlet for me as I reached puberty; I would write sad poetry about being an outcast, and make promises to myself that I would change my dark moods and bossy temperament. When I was bullied in junior high, it was my journaling and my love of New Kids on the Block (LOL!) that got me through.

Once I hit high school, my mom found it necessary to read one of my diaries. When she confronted me with it, I was horribly embarrassed and humiliated. I started hiding my writing, but inevitably, she would find it, using 'cleaning' or 'looking for something' as an excuse. Finally, out of frustration, I burned some of the writing, because it seemed as if that was the only way to keep my mother's prying eyes out of it. When I moved away to college, there were no more worries. I would unabashedly tell all about my partying, my slightly obsessive crushes on guys, my sexual curiosities, my friends. Everything.

After my first year at school, I returned home for the summer. I had gained about 20lbs from my fast food and alcohol diet- something that shocked me, but my family as well. I guess my mom took that and some other signs (like my new nose ring and my cigarette habit) and decided she needed to find out what was really going on at school. So, once again, she found my diary, and confronted me with it. My reaction was no different this time around. I was humiliated, and did nothing but hang my head and sob. I felt such a huge betrayal. She had done it again. Didn't she know that if we had a good relationship, she could have talked to me about it? Didn't she know that invading my privacy would only cause me to isolate myself from her more? Didn't she know that I wasn't a bad kid? I seemed like an angel in comparison to a lot of the students I knew.

I returned to school for my second year, and my visits home became shorter and less frequent. I still kept a journal, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to actually vent inside it's pages. I didn't feel like it was safe to get my feelings out on paper anymore. Gradually, as I separated myself more from my mom, and sought out a counselor, I was able to write again.

Then, at age 20, after being formally diagnosed with depression, I met my ex-husband. After a whirlwind courtship, and my decision to become a Jehovah's Witness, I dropped out of university to become a good JW wife. The night my ex 'proposed,' (I use quotation marks because I bought my own wedding ring, there was no engagement ring, no formal 'will you marry me?') he had a little ceremony that included burning all of my journals that came before him. Years worth of memories turned to ashes in minutes. I remember thinking to myself, "what am I letting him do??"

Today, at 27, I have dozens of spiral notebooks filled with raw emotion, experiences, and recollections. I have pages and pages of writing saved on my computer, and now, I blog. I have a love hate relationship with what I write. I love to do it, I can't not do it, but at the same time, I can be so critical and over analytical about it. I wish that I had something more concrete than just memories, to look back on. As time passes, memories can fade, and I feel there's a piece of my life missing. While there's no use in regret, I can't help but wish I had kept my treasured journals. They were snapshots in time that I set ablaze, in an effort to cope with life.