You know, I won't even begin to get started on how the Army more or less just dumps you once you get out of active duty, regardless of how many tours you served in Iraq. If you weren't injured or killed, you're pretty much just tossed out there with a pat on the back and a "good luck." I won't even get into the discrimination being an Iraq war veteran gets you (somehow having that on your resume is a negative. When applying for jobs, Chris looked into applying for a job at Google. It actually said that one "need not" put military experience on their resume, as it was not considered experience. Seriously?? That is insane to me, and is essentially outcasting veterans as they would have a huge chunk of missing time on their resume, or it would look like they did nothing at all since college. They may as well say "We don't hire vets.")
But this one? This really killed me. The following is from an article I read this morning...""
"FRESNO, Calif. - Forced to leave the combat zone after his two brothers died in the Iraq war, Army Spc. Jason Hubbard faced another battle once he returned home: The military cut off his family's health care, stopped his G.I. educational subsidies and wanted him to repay his sign-up bonus."
It goes on to explain that he petitioned to his congressman, who is thankfully trying to rectify the situation. However, that's because this guy spoke up. There is no telling how many similar stories there must be, perhaps less educated or knowledgeable soldiers who may not have realized that petitioning a congressman was an option.
One recent experience Chris and I have had? We do our banking with First Command, an Army bank, albeit a private bank. The only reason we were ever involved with them was because they provide a lot of free banking services to soldiers and veterans. For life.
Well. They did. You're assigned a "financial planner." This was always free. We are thankfully good with our money and my brother helps us with investments so we never really needed him much, but he was there to touch base with now and then. All of a sudden he's calling us all the time and wants us to just come in and touch base. I should have known this was fishy. He gets us in there talking talking talking our heads off and then slaps us with this "new policy" that First Command is now "fee for service" and his financial advice would cost us $1500 from this point on.
Yes, you heard me. $1500. Besides the fact that this was completely ridiculous in so far as how it was presented to us, that is an EXORBITANT amount of money to ask. My uncle was a financial planner for many years and said he's never heard of anyone asking that much just to put together some friggin pie chart of your investments. Now again, Chris and I have the education and the resources to know that this is effing ridiculous. A "financial plan" is essentially a subjective snapshot, as my uncle explained to me, that can change year to year. So really, having some guy tell us how much money we should put in investments we already have is completely unnecessary. (so he is not picking investments for us. my brother helps me do that and they are all already set. he's just telling us how much we'd need to put it in to retire some day. we already know it's a lot more than we can put it right now. i don't need to pay you $1500 to tell me that).
So we explained to the man that we were very put off by this as our only reason for being involved with First Command in the first place was that they have special services and rates etc for soldiers and veterans. Now that was suddenly null and void. Now they are essentially useless to us. They suck as a bank anyway.
Perhaps I should petition MY congressman. Eliot Engel look out!!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Christopher
Sometimes I think it's hard to describe Chris and I. As I've stated in previous posts, we've been through more crazy shit than anyone should had to have gone through at our age. But yet it's really never affected us in how we interact with each other. Sure it wasn't always easy. Things take their toll. It took some getting used to having him back after deployments, but for the most part, after everything we've gone through, we are still...us. And us is pretty damn cool if you ask me. We've managed to strike some perfect balance between our stark differences and while sometimes our problem solving solutions are quite different (his being stay quiet if I get annoyed at him, mine being do a crazy song and dance....literally... if he gets annoyed at me. I mean how can you stay mad at me when I am performing my own rendition of "Bump and Grind" with the broom while singing at the top of my lungs? I mean seriously...) we always seem to figure it out and move on quickly. And for the record, there is no end to my singing and dancing. I make up songs for everything I do. I have a dance for just about every moment of the day. Most men would (and have) run screaming from someone like me. I am so completely ridiculous at moments that I am not quite sure sometimes how Chris...even keeled level headed Chris...ended up with a whack-a-doo like myself. But boy I sure am glad he did!!
Of course then I remember that beyond his Ultra Running and military background, Chris spent his younger years in a sketch comedy group in Providence, spent his high school years dressing in polyester 70s bell bottoms dancing to Saturday Night Fever (for some reason he developed a thing for disco) and is best known for his absolutely amazing ability to do the worm.
Maybe we aren't so different after all...
Of course then I remember that beyond his Ultra Running and military background, Chris spent his younger years in a sketch comedy group in Providence, spent his high school years dressing in polyester 70s bell bottoms dancing to Saturday Night Fever (for some reason he developed a thing for disco) and is best known for his absolutely amazing ability to do the worm.
Maybe we aren't so different after all...
Cancer Sucks
I mean, I guess that's more or less understood. But seriously. What the hell?
This year I am again participating in the Revlon Run/Walk for Women. My fundraising site is here.
If you're feeling generous, feel free to click on the donations link. I haven't gotten any yet but last year I managed to collect over $700!! Take a minute to also check out my team, "Team Oogie". The Team Oogie page is run by my lifelong friends Liz and Monica Walsh in memory of their mother, Cathy Walsh, who died of breast cancer. They created a team and now we all run in memory of our moms.
So this brings me to a disturbing observation. Lots of my friends have dead moms. In fact I'm starting to feel like more people I know have a dead mom than not. When my mother died, I was in high school. It was a few days before my 17th birthday. At this point, it was completely unheard of for someone to lose a parent. Most specifically a mom. My mother died very suddenly from lung cancer so no one even knew she was sick. There wasn't really any time for the word to get around. By the time she was diagnosed it was way too late. Her lungs had actually begun to liquefy. I just remember the strange state of shock it sent me into and the way I sort of just floated about ignoring it. I just wanted to get back to school, get out of my house, go take tests and go to the boys' school's lacrosse games with my friends (my high school was all girls). But when I went back to school after Christmas, as she died right before my birthday/xmas and the xmas break, all eyes were on me. I was literally like a walking freak show. The tip toeing, the randoms coming up to me to say sorry, the nuns harassing the hell out of me. It was more like pure torture than anything. I always got this feeling that everyone was waiting for me to completely break down and scream and cry . I never did cry.
But then I fast forward to today. The experience I went through at such a young age has seemed to become commonplace now that I am in my late 20's. I don't think this is how it's supposed to be. I expected that once I got to 40 I'd see lots of my friends losing parents. But not now. Not under the age of 30. I know so many other people who have lost moms. All of them to breast cancer actually. Losing Mrs. Walsh was horrible. I grew up down the block from Monica and Liz and so I've known them my entire life. Mrs. Walsh was like my second mom. And then she died too. At her funeral it was like we had all joined some secret society, me and the Walshes and th several other motherless friends. We were able to joke about how completely ridiculous it is, what a disaster our poor dads are, what a circus it was listening to everyone give their "heartfelt condolences" when really they all just said the most asinine things imaginable. We started to wonder if Rockland and Bergen counties were somehow built on a nuclear waste dump at the rate our moms were dropping like flies...
Needless to say, this was never a club any of us expected to be in. Cancer sucks.
This year I am again participating in the Revlon Run/Walk for Women. My fundraising site is here.
If you're feeling generous, feel free to click on the donations link. I haven't gotten any yet but last year I managed to collect over $700!! Take a minute to also check out my team, "Team Oogie". The Team Oogie page is run by my lifelong friends Liz and Monica Walsh in memory of their mother, Cathy Walsh, who died of breast cancer. They created a team and now we all run in memory of our moms.
So this brings me to a disturbing observation. Lots of my friends have dead moms. In fact I'm starting to feel like more people I know have a dead mom than not. When my mother died, I was in high school. It was a few days before my 17th birthday. At this point, it was completely unheard of for someone to lose a parent. Most specifically a mom. My mother died very suddenly from lung cancer so no one even knew she was sick. There wasn't really any time for the word to get around. By the time she was diagnosed it was way too late. Her lungs had actually begun to liquefy. I just remember the strange state of shock it sent me into and the way I sort of just floated about ignoring it. I just wanted to get back to school, get out of my house, go take tests and go to the boys' school's lacrosse games with my friends (my high school was all girls). But when I went back to school after Christmas, as she died right before my birthday/xmas and the xmas break, all eyes were on me. I was literally like a walking freak show. The tip toeing, the randoms coming up to me to say sorry, the nuns harassing the hell out of me. It was more like pure torture than anything. I always got this feeling that everyone was waiting for me to completely break down and scream and cry . I never did cry.
But then I fast forward to today. The experience I went through at such a young age has seemed to become commonplace now that I am in my late 20's. I don't think this is how it's supposed to be. I expected that once I got to 40 I'd see lots of my friends losing parents. But not now. Not under the age of 30. I know so many other people who have lost moms. All of them to breast cancer actually. Losing Mrs. Walsh was horrible. I grew up down the block from Monica and Liz and so I've known them my entire life. Mrs. Walsh was like my second mom. And then she died too. At her funeral it was like we had all joined some secret society, me and the Walshes and th several other motherless friends. We were able to joke about how completely ridiculous it is, what a disaster our poor dads are, what a circus it was listening to everyone give their "heartfelt condolences" when really they all just said the most asinine things imaginable. We started to wonder if Rockland and Bergen counties were somehow built on a nuclear waste dump at the rate our moms were dropping like flies...
Needless to say, this was never a club any of us expected to be in. Cancer sucks.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Ultra-Running Fool
My husband Chris is an ultra-runner. For those of you who don't know what that means (beyond it meaning that he is totally insane), it means that he runs races greater in distance than a marathon, or greater than 26.2 miles. Now for some, "beyond" 26.2 might only mean a 50K (30something miles). For my husband? It means not only 50 milers, but 100 milers as well. Yes, you heard me correctly. Chris has run 100 miles- 29 hours and 24 minutes of running with no sleep and little stopping to eat, pee, etc.
The fact of the matter is, I am beyond baffled at this entire sport. The whole ultra-running community, being that it is so small, is totally incestuous. I mean everyone knows everyone who's run with everyone somewhere sometime somehow before. We met people at the 100 miler in Wyoming that Chris had run with at races in NY. I think on some level, you sort of have to be born for this sort of thing. Chris was just made to run. And run and run and run. You can't just go from someone who doesn't do anything to being an ultra runner. You need to have a certain body. One with great joints, great oxygen capacity, great circulation, a natural ability for serious endurance. Chris happens to fit the bill perfectly. He completed several marathons when he realized they weren't a challenge anymore. With hardly training he could still manage to run a 3.5 hour marathon. I believe his best time was somewhere around 3 hours and 12 minutes. (that's under 7.5 minute miles for 26 miles, for the record). So why not try ULTRA marathons?? Not to mention he wanted to move on to more trail running.
That's where they get ya. Trail running! How fun! Ultras are almost always trail runs through the middle of insane mountains in the middle of nowhere. SO doesn't that sound great? Let's meander through the woods alone and at night for hours and hours and HOURS on end! Next thing you know you're signing up for 50 milers, then you're buying head lamps to wear in the middle of the night to run 100 milers, then you're scheduling your entire life around the next 12 hour run you can fit in. It's a slippery slope, my friends!!
Being married to an ultra-runner is a funny thing. For several months of the year, our lives revolve around Chris's running schedule. Training for ultras means a full day of running. Saturdays are out for months at a time. In the end I don't mind really. Races are often held in beautiful scenic locations and in the end I know all the training will turn into a cool camping trip come race time. But I know more about runners that I'd ever hoped. I know about their gear, their lingo, the top names in the industry. It's a pretty addictive lifestyle. And the people you meet!! Most couples you meet consist of co-athletes. They met in the running scene, they run together, train together, crew each other's races.
And then there's me. Yes, I look like I should be a runner. I'm tall, I have long scrawny legs, I'm relatively thin. So people come up to meet asking what I'M training for. Naive fools. I should just start lying about it. "Right, I ran the Mountain Masochist 50 milers in 8 hours last year, it was CRAZY!" But instead I just say, "No, I don't run. But I can swim for a really really long time!!!!" I mean I used to run. I used to love running. But what am I going to say? "Yes, I used to be a pretty good runner. I was running 6-8 miles a day at one point. But then I got Lyme's disease and my entire body, especially the joints, went to shit, had open heart surgery progressing it into further shit, but hey, I'm starting to get better and my knees can almost tolerate a whole one mile run now!!" Right. I'd rather crawl into a hole and hide.
So instead I am just the outcast. The problem with the ultra community is that anyone who isn't a runner is seen as a primadonna of sorts. This greatly pisses me off. I don't not run because I'm lazy. I would love to run, I just can't yet. I don't know that my knees will ever really appreciate me taking on something like that again. I'd like to think so, but I can't really say.
In any event, Chris was supposed to be running the North Face Endurance Challenge today. It's a 50 miler run by Dean Karnazes (THE name in ultras- duuuuh) which is pretty damn cool. It's held at Bear Mountain, which is where Chris trains. Home turf. It was going to be awesome. The trails there are SICK to run on and out of towners have no idea what they are in for. It was rated 5/5 in technical terrain, 5/5 in overall challenge, and 4/5 in elevation difficulty. But my poor guy got injured. This was a little bit like someone ripping his heart out. So instead, he's volunteering. He got up at 1:00 this morning to get to Bear Mountain for 2:00am so he could run/walk (being that he is injured) the first 10.5 miles of the 50 miler to make sure it was marked correctly, cracking glowsticks along the way. As luck would have it, it was raining all night and morning, the fog is so thick you can't see 2 feet forward, and my guy was out there in the middle of the damn woods all night in these conditions. Head lamp or not, I would have an all out panic attack in about 30 seconds in conditions like that. Hell just in the DARK I'd probably die. I won't even take the dog out to my backyard in the dark!!!! I'm terrified. But anyway, I heard from him and while it was a very slow pace, he finished the job. Now he'll stay there all day manning an aid station.
Perhaps he'll snap a picture with Dean when he runs by. :)
The fact of the matter is, I am beyond baffled at this entire sport. The whole ultra-running community, being that it is so small, is totally incestuous. I mean everyone knows everyone who's run with everyone somewhere sometime somehow before. We met people at the 100 miler in Wyoming that Chris had run with at races in NY. I think on some level, you sort of have to be born for this sort of thing. Chris was just made to run. And run and run and run. You can't just go from someone who doesn't do anything to being an ultra runner. You need to have a certain body. One with great joints, great oxygen capacity, great circulation, a natural ability for serious endurance. Chris happens to fit the bill perfectly. He completed several marathons when he realized they weren't a challenge anymore. With hardly training he could still manage to run a 3.5 hour marathon. I believe his best time was somewhere around 3 hours and 12 minutes. (that's under 7.5 minute miles for 26 miles, for the record). So why not try ULTRA marathons?? Not to mention he wanted to move on to more trail running.
That's where they get ya. Trail running! How fun! Ultras are almost always trail runs through the middle of insane mountains in the middle of nowhere. SO doesn't that sound great? Let's meander through the woods alone and at night for hours and hours and HOURS on end! Next thing you know you're signing up for 50 milers, then you're buying head lamps to wear in the middle of the night to run 100 milers, then you're scheduling your entire life around the next 12 hour run you can fit in. It's a slippery slope, my friends!!
Being married to an ultra-runner is a funny thing. For several months of the year, our lives revolve around Chris's running schedule. Training for ultras means a full day of running. Saturdays are out for months at a time. In the end I don't mind really. Races are often held in beautiful scenic locations and in the end I know all the training will turn into a cool camping trip come race time. But I know more about runners that I'd ever hoped. I know about their gear, their lingo, the top names in the industry. It's a pretty addictive lifestyle. And the people you meet!! Most couples you meet consist of co-athletes. They met in the running scene, they run together, train together, crew each other's races.
And then there's me. Yes, I look like I should be a runner. I'm tall, I have long scrawny legs, I'm relatively thin. So people come up to meet asking what I'M training for. Naive fools. I should just start lying about it. "Right, I ran the Mountain Masochist 50 milers in 8 hours last year, it was CRAZY!" But instead I just say, "No, I don't run. But I can swim for a really really long time!!!!" I mean I used to run. I used to love running. But what am I going to say? "Yes, I used to be a pretty good runner. I was running 6-8 miles a day at one point. But then I got Lyme's disease and my entire body, especially the joints, went to shit, had open heart surgery progressing it into further shit, but hey, I'm starting to get better and my knees can almost tolerate a whole one mile run now!!" Right. I'd rather crawl into a hole and hide.
So instead I am just the outcast. The problem with the ultra community is that anyone who isn't a runner is seen as a primadonna of sorts. This greatly pisses me off. I don't not run because I'm lazy. I would love to run, I just can't yet. I don't know that my knees will ever really appreciate me taking on something like that again. I'd like to think so, but I can't really say.
In any event, Chris was supposed to be running the North Face Endurance Challenge today. It's a 50 miler run by Dean Karnazes (THE name in ultras- duuuuh) which is pretty damn cool. It's held at Bear Mountain, which is where Chris trains. Home turf. It was going to be awesome. The trails there are SICK to run on and out of towners have no idea what they are in for. It was rated 5/5 in technical terrain, 5/5 in overall challenge, and 4/5 in elevation difficulty. But my poor guy got injured. This was a little bit like someone ripping his heart out. So instead, he's volunteering. He got up at 1:00 this morning to get to Bear Mountain for 2:00am so he could run/walk (being that he is injured) the first 10.5 miles of the 50 miler to make sure it was marked correctly, cracking glowsticks along the way. As luck would have it, it was raining all night and morning, the fog is so thick you can't see 2 feet forward, and my guy was out there in the middle of the damn woods all night in these conditions. Head lamp or not, I would have an all out panic attack in about 30 seconds in conditions like that. Hell just in the DARK I'd probably die. I won't even take the dog out to my backyard in the dark!!!! I'm terrified. But anyway, I heard from him and while it was a very slow pace, he finished the job. Now he'll stay there all day manning an aid station.
Perhaps he'll snap a picture with Dean when he runs by. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Calming Sounds
In honor of the fact that the buggies are out in full force, I am posting a blog I've had up on my myspace for awhile...
Ok, if you want to hear one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world, go to this link and this link and hit "play" on the little players simultaneously. It completely makes me forget about anything that may be troubling me. I love it.
Ok, if you want to hear one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world, go to this link and this link and hit "play" on the little players simultaneously. It completely makes me forget about anything that may be troubling me. I love it.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Wheezy, Sneezy, and Hack
Well, surprise surprise. After my whole immunity blog, it's no wonder that I am super sick right now. This only feeds into my delusional OCD that states anything I think or write down (or type) before it happens will no longer happen (I refused to mark my wedding date on my calendar), or anything I think or write down (or type) that's good will immediately go bad. The reason I chalk this one up to the OCD is that I know it's completely irrational and makes absolutely no sense. But yet the paranoia remains. In making this blog I was hoping to be over and done with that bit too. So no, I'm not going to go and stop blogging or feed into it further. Just saying, a bit ironic, no???
Sunday, April 6, 2008
SPF
It was supposed to be overcast this weekend. Turns out Saturday was gorgeous. I know with the way I've been feeling, a little sunshine is just about the best medicine I could ask for. Kate and Jim were visiting so we decided to sit outside for a little bit.
I'm talking a LITTLE bit. I'm not sure if it's a commentary on my body's failing defenses or our planet's failing layer of ozone, but for me to sit outside on a 55 degree day in April for an hour and end up burnt like toast...is somewhat disturbing. Now I have a totally ridiculous tan line on my chest from my shirt, which will make it totally ridiculous to wear anything that dips down a little in the front (at least until the burn fades) and my arms are bright red. Thankfully I use face moisturizer with SPF or I'd probably be burnt to a crisp there too. But I am a bit shocked! I used to get tan instantly and never burn. Then all of a sudden I just started getting lots of freckles. But now? I go outside for an hour on a not that warm day in April and I'm burnt to a crisp?! The weird part is, it doesn't hurt at all. It just LOOKS totally ridiculous.
Note to self: should probably make an appointment with a dermatologist to check out the notable increase in freckles, sunburns and the like!
I'm talking a LITTLE bit. I'm not sure if it's a commentary on my body's failing defenses or our planet's failing layer of ozone, but for me to sit outside on a 55 degree day in April for an hour and end up burnt like toast...is somewhat disturbing. Now I have a totally ridiculous tan line on my chest from my shirt, which will make it totally ridiculous to wear anything that dips down a little in the front (at least until the burn fades) and my arms are bright red. Thankfully I use face moisturizer with SPF or I'd probably be burnt to a crisp there too. But I am a bit shocked! I used to get tan instantly and never burn. Then all of a sudden I just started getting lots of freckles. But now? I go outside for an hour on a not that warm day in April and I'm burnt to a crisp?! The weird part is, it doesn't hurt at all. It just LOOKS totally ridiculous.
Note to self: should probably make an appointment with a dermatologist to check out the notable increase in freckles, sunburns and the like!
Friday, April 4, 2008
Googleable
Feeling a little better today, for the record.
So I found out that my blog here is googleable. As in, if you type in my name, it pops up. I promptly turned off that feature as while this is not some super secret blog...it's meant to be public...I also don't need to make it quite so easily accessible to people such as:
-parents of the kids I work with
-creepy psycho ex-boyfriends
-people that made my head want to explode and hence have no need for them to bust in on my personal life
Most specifically though, I'd say parents of the kids I work with most. The last thing I need is them coming to me stating I can't see their kid because they don't agree with something I wrote in my blog. Typically, I am not apologetic about my views. They are my views and I'm entitled to them. And so knowing I would not be willing to apologize for them makes me less willing to make them known to the parents. I don't need to be getting into political and philosophical debates at work. And as much as I love that, I simpy don't have the time.
I know you probably think this is nuts. Why would a parent google their occupational therapist? Well, parents are nuts these days and think everyone is out to harm their child. So with the resources we have, I have a feeling I've been googled more than once. But then you might ask, what parent would really take something like a blog to heart? I'm very good at what I do in the sense that I will go above and beyond to help in every way possible. So wouldn't that be enough?
You'd think so.
I love the kids I work with. Mostly, I love their families too. But in some weird way several of them have said the most bizarre insulting things to me. And not about my treatment or my professionalism or what I do with the kids. But all about me PERSONALLY. I'll compile a short list here to give you an idea of what I'm dealing with. The following things have been said to me by parents of the kids I work with:
-*looks me up and down* So I guess you don't ever eat, huh?
-Why don't you get a nose job? You might look pretty.
-It must be nice to be able to go to work looking like a total mess (um, I roll around on mats with kids all day. I don't particularly plan on wearing my power suit and pumps)
-You sort of look like Hillary Swank. She's got those big teeth and bony jaw and all that too.
-(in a disgusted tone) Why don't you start wearing makeup?
So needless to say, they pick apart my appearance to no end and shoot my (already shitty) self esteem into the crapper faster than I can say boo. Perhaps you can understand why inviting them into my personal and social life would only fuel their fire further. For this reason, I am no longer allowing people to google me and find my blog. The end.
So I found out that my blog here is googleable. As in, if you type in my name, it pops up. I promptly turned off that feature as while this is not some super secret blog...it's meant to be public...I also don't need to make it quite so easily accessible to people such as:
-parents of the kids I work with
-creepy psycho ex-boyfriends
-people that made my head want to explode and hence have no need for them to bust in on my personal life
Most specifically though, I'd say parents of the kids I work with most. The last thing I need is them coming to me stating I can't see their kid because they don't agree with something I wrote in my blog. Typically, I am not apologetic about my views. They are my views and I'm entitled to them. And so knowing I would not be willing to apologize for them makes me less willing to make them known to the parents. I don't need to be getting into political and philosophical debates at work. And as much as I love that, I simpy don't have the time.
I know you probably think this is nuts. Why would a parent google their occupational therapist? Well, parents are nuts these days and think everyone is out to harm their child. So with the resources we have, I have a feeling I've been googled more than once. But then you might ask, what parent would really take something like a blog to heart? I'm very good at what I do in the sense that I will go above and beyond to help in every way possible. So wouldn't that be enough?
You'd think so.
I love the kids I work with. Mostly, I love their families too. But in some weird way several of them have said the most bizarre insulting things to me. And not about my treatment or my professionalism or what I do with the kids. But all about me PERSONALLY. I'll compile a short list here to give you an idea of what I'm dealing with. The following things have been said to me by parents of the kids I work with:
-*looks me up and down* So I guess you don't ever eat, huh?
-Why don't you get a nose job? You might look pretty.
-It must be nice to be able to go to work looking like a total mess (um, I roll around on mats with kids all day. I don't particularly plan on wearing my power suit and pumps)
-You sort of look like Hillary Swank. She's got those big teeth and bony jaw and all that too.
-(in a disgusted tone) Why don't you start wearing makeup?
So needless to say, they pick apart my appearance to no end and shoot my (already shitty) self esteem into the crapper faster than I can say boo. Perhaps you can understand why inviting them into my personal and social life would only fuel their fire further. For this reason, I am no longer allowing people to google me and find my blog. The end.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Rough Patches
All good things and good times have rough patches. I'd like to be done with them. I know this isn't always that easy. Woke up today assured I would be feeling better than the past few days but the minute I sat down I felt that weight again. Just an all around heaviness that creeps up on me from time to time. I'm still remaining determined to fight it off.
Two nights ago I heard the crickets outside. Crickets are a good sign. I love the sound of crickets, cicadas, katydids- the sounds of summer. Nothing else could make me happier. I think all I'll need is a night or two with the crickets and this might pass. I wanted to go away in April...somewhere warm and sunny. I need some sun. But things are just too expensive right now. I'm still spending over $1000 a month on uncovered healthcare costs. I just imagine sometimes how much easier life could be if I didn't have to pay for all of this shit. I could certainly use that extra $1000 for things like... my mortgage. But I don't like to look at it that way. For me, that $1000 is more important than just about anything else. Though it does still suck. Hard.
To be honest, as much as I love my psychiatrist, I'd really like to be done with all of that. I want to separate myself from it. I know on some level I still need him, but part of me needs to know I can do this on my own. Part of me needs to say "I'll call you when I need you again" and hope that time is never. Sure I'm in a rough patch now, but it's about 1/3 of what my rough patches have been in the past. I'm still eating. I'm still sleeping. I'm still going to work. I haven't stopped functioning. I just feel that heaviness. I feel exanimate. I feel completely disconnected. But I'm doing what I have to do. I know I'm sort of contradicting myself from previous posts, but as far as professional help like psychiatry, I just want to do it on my own for awhile.
I mean..when is someone finally going to tell me, "You're going to be okay, Lorraine." I feel like I've been waiting to hear that for years...
Two nights ago I heard the crickets outside. Crickets are a good sign. I love the sound of crickets, cicadas, katydids- the sounds of summer. Nothing else could make me happier. I think all I'll need is a night or two with the crickets and this might pass. I wanted to go away in April...somewhere warm and sunny. I need some sun. But things are just too expensive right now. I'm still spending over $1000 a month on uncovered healthcare costs. I just imagine sometimes how much easier life could be if I didn't have to pay for all of this shit. I could certainly use that extra $1000 for things like... my mortgage. But I don't like to look at it that way. For me, that $1000 is more important than just about anything else. Though it does still suck. Hard.
To be honest, as much as I love my psychiatrist, I'd really like to be done with all of that. I want to separate myself from it. I know on some level I still need him, but part of me needs to know I can do this on my own. Part of me needs to say "I'll call you when I need you again" and hope that time is never. Sure I'm in a rough patch now, but it's about 1/3 of what my rough patches have been in the past. I'm still eating. I'm still sleeping. I'm still going to work. I haven't stopped functioning. I just feel that heaviness. I feel exanimate. I feel completely disconnected. But I'm doing what I have to do. I know I'm sort of contradicting myself from previous posts, but as far as professional help like psychiatry, I just want to do it on my own for awhile.
I mean..when is someone finally going to tell me, "You're going to be okay, Lorraine." I feel like I've been waiting to hear that for years...
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Zoned
I've had an all around disturbing day. I've been on planet Lorraine and I have not been able to get my shit together. I feel like my brain has been drinking antifreeze. I was driving home from my PT appointment and I was absolutely starving as I realized I had not eaten all day. I was driving my dad's car today because he needed mine, and he typically has some snackies hiding out. I found a little mini Twix bar so of course I ate it. Not sure what I did, but I was still completely zoned and probably even more so after my session as I think I was reacting to it by zoning more...and something went down the wrong pipe. I started wheezing at first but then my throat actually closed up and I couldn't breathe anymore. I was at a red light with a few other cars and for a moment I started to get out of the car thinking well, I guess I'll be needing some help. But then I paused. Maybe just maybe for too long. The sentiment actually going through my head, if I am completely honest, was...
"...finally."
Then just as suddenly as it started, I was back to wheezing and could breathe fine again. I took my hand off the handle and kept driving.
So...what does one make of all that exactly?
*sigh*
"...finally."
Then just as suddenly as it started, I was back to wheezing and could breathe fine again. I took my hand off the handle and kept driving.
So...what does one make of all that exactly?
*sigh*
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