Scrapped for time...

I did finally make it in to work yesterday afternoon. It was a little bit unnerving at first because they hit me with about four different tasks when I walked in the door. I explained that I had to concentrate on the taxes and anything else would have to wait. They were very gracious and told me several times how much they appreciated my help. One of them even made a point to tell me that I was not to get stressed--the situation wasn't my fault. I was grateful that he said that. Once I got into the project, I had about three uninterrupted hours to punch in numbers. Not at all like how it was when I was working full time. My whiteboard always had over 50 things that were in process and needed to be completed yesterday, and I was always being asked to move from one to another as priorities were changed. I'm really more of a tunnel-vision type worker or like the tortoise rather than the hare. I'm one-task oriented and for me, slow and steady means I do a really good job on that task. Too many things to do at one time and nothing gets done well. Having to work like the hare raced is why I was soooo stressed. Jumping and bounding from one thing to another without finishing anything.

I'm getting bent out of shape just thinking about it.

(Image is an abstract metal wall hanging by artist David Armstrong. He suggests it can be birds and fish or the tortoise and hare. I just happen to love metal, especially scraps! I'm the one you might see stopped by the side of the road investigating a strange looking metal object to use in one of my own projects! This beauty can be purchased in Mr. Armstrong's fairly new Etsy shop strongarmstrong. See more of his work at www.birdsflyfree.com)

Playing Solitaire...

After spending so much time at home and seeing pretty much no one to speak of, I seem to have become the proverbial social butterfly this week. Not that I am happy to claim the title. My preference would be to remain the anonymous soul I've been for the last eight months. However, as luck would have it, my social calendar runneth over. Last night we went to dinner with a group of neighbors, then back to one of their homes for a round of Trivial Pursuit. We made up our own rules and played men against women. Need anyone ask who won?? We all moved into this newly developed neighborhood at the same time some twenty-odd years ago. We had cul-de-sac parties at which we all brought grills and hand-cranked ice cream makers. We did the moving party at Christmas, going from house to house. We went to movies and comedy clubs and restaurants together. We were all of a similar age, and several families had small children. I have watched these same children grow up, go through their own trials and waved them off as they were married or back as they divorced. This is no doubt one of the best bunch of individuals I know. They are truly great friends. Tonight, we have tickets to the play "Annie," and we will no doubt see several of my other half's acquaintances. The tickets were an end-of-year gift for him as he teaches the 14-year-old star of the play. It's bound to be a great event, but I don't know many of the parents who will be there, so I'm a bit on the anxious side about it. Finally, tomorrow we have a brunch scheduled with friends who moved to Virginia two years ago. I am already dreading this because this is one of the friends who hurt me very badly several years ago. She brought me into a Bible study, encouraged me to be in leadership and then was one of those who said nothing when I was asked to leave as the proverbial scapegoat. (Hmmm, onto that word proverbial today.) The leader of the study didn't like what an audit team had to recommend, and as the one who was asked to lead the audit, I was the one to get the boot. I've come to realize just how controlling the leader was, not to mention being quite the "queen bee" type. As for my friend, I haven't seen her since the "break-up" and will confess that I was hurt, then angry at her. For her to have been such a good friend, one whom I might say had been a bit of a mentor to me, I really would prefer not to see her and just forgo the brunch. I'm fairly certain that isn't an option. Too bad.

On the work front, I have avoided going back into the office for almost two weeks. I'm no longer able to manage my stress on any level, and when the tough got going, I bailed. I think I've recovered enough to pick it up again this weekend when I can work alone.

Because really, this socializing has seriously cut into my hermit lifestyle.

(Image is a collage found at AnangkaArts at Etsy and can be purchased in the form of a magnet or a greeting card. It is representative of the Tarot card "The Hermit" and goes by the same name.)

Size does matter...

As previously mentioned, I've been working part-part-time on a project for my previous employer, and it's been eating into my journal time. I've been going to the office several days per week, and I'm at the point that the work should be completed in another day or two. I don't know what, if anything, I'll do there once this is finished. They may need me for a few days per month, but we will see. As the weeks have gone by, the same things that caused me to leave have gradually started up again. I'm certainly not where I was six months ago, but this week has seen a bit of a setback for me. It just confirms that I need to stay away from highly emotional and stressful situations.

Speaking of stressful, I just read that a "plus-size" model was protesting her recently published photograph. It seems that the publisher had the picture airbrushed from a size 10 to a size 2. She said she was proud of her size and felt it was insulting to her for the photo to be changed. Funny, I was insulted to find out that a size 10 was considered a plus-size! When did that happen? I knew that the modelling business has been getting bad press for pushing the girls to be so thin that they aren't healthy, but I didn't realize that those standards were now being pushed on women in general. However, I have noticed as I've shopped online for the last year or more that designers do seem to be using less material. A size Large just ain't what it used to be.

I recently found a picture of myself taken about 5 months before I got married. Both my other half and I agreed that I look way, way, better now. We both thought I looked anorexic in the photo, but I remember never feeling thin enough. As I've aged, predictably, I've gained those few pounds per year. Anyone who has seen me within the last 10 or so years has said that I look great, maybe because I now have curves.

The good news from the fashion front is that curves are back in vogue! I just wish someone would tell that to all of those designers who think a size Large is equivalent to a size 8. Who would like to volunteer? Anyone?

(Image is a black and white gelatin silver print entitled "Hands." It can be purchased at Etsy from leanaphoto.)

Stay calm, don't panic...

I know I've come a long way from where I was several months ago because this week I've gone back to work. Yep, me, back to help them with some reports that needed to be rechecked. They have been calling me for months, but I haven't had much success at it before now. I've been every day so far this week, and I'm going back today and probably tomorrow. I'm standing here beside of myself. Whoa, bad line--where did I hear it? Seriously, I am amazed that I've been able to do it. Just have to keep pushing.

The biggest thorn in my side right now is my other half. He has been out of school for three weeks, and he will be out again next week. TV on day and night, constantly on the computer. Heaven forbid if he ever retires. I will have to run away from home for sure.

I also have a friend who called me this week to let me know that she was setting up an Etsy store. She wanted me to help her with the technical aspects of listing. Me?? Obviously, she has no idea that I can barely logon without help. I'll be glad to do whatever I can, but I told her not to hold her breath. She is a fiber jewelry artist who uses vintage items in her creations. I've been wearing her pieces for 20 years. Beauties, each and every one.

Well, although I've been in a sad state of cracked and broken for awhile, it looks like I've returned, perhaps temporarily, to calm...

(Image is from Etsy artist livingferal and is a collage entitled "keep calm and carry on" "when you've nothing left to lose, and are past the point of no return...")

Around and around I go...

My journal reads like a record that skips and plays the same thing over and over and over (does that tell my age?). I'm beginning to believe that I've always been this way. Add the stress and the emotional turmoil on top of it, and the highs and lows were just, well, higher and lower. But in somewhat of a bubble here at home, I realize that I really am always just slightly depressed. Even with meds, I still cycle through the milder lows on a regular basis.

We closed on the refinancing loan last Friday. At the lawyer's office, there was an assistant that everyone was praising for her abilities and her cheerful attitude. That used to be me. Clients would tell me how much they appreciated me, and some of them wanted to hire me! So, I was a bit down upon leaving the office that afternoon, brooding the rest of the evening about much has changed. On Saturday, I went to have my nails done and to get a pedicure as well. It's been two months since I last went. Aahh, bliss. A spa pedicure with a reflexology foot massage and seaweed wrap. Oh, and, of course, pretty toenails. But while sitting in line with the other 11 women, I noticed that my legs were getting a lot of attention and not in a good way. My legs are blindingly white, having not seen the sun for over 20 years. They were the first place that my hives appeared, and that signaled the end of my days in the sun. Heat just makes them worse. It would seem a blessing in disguise since I have fairly good skin from staying out of the sun. But trust me, blinding white is not pretty, especially since I cannot shave my legs because of my hives. I do not understand Vietnamese, so I could only imagine that the lilting sing-song of their conversation went something like this: "What wrong with her? She have weird skin. Funny color. Eeww, hairy. Look terrible. Don't want to touch. Put on gloves. Hee hee." (Sorry, that is how they talk. No offense meant.) The bliss of the treatment was undermined by my humiliation. Plus, I wondered afterwards why I even bother to keep having my nails done. Who sees them but me? Huh. Afterwards, I finally made it to the mall to return those stupid shoes I've had for a month. I had one other errand I wanted to accomplish, and the two stores were at opposite ends of the mall. Walking through, I find that the mall hasn't changed much since the last time I was there many years ago. There are still no stores for old people, unless the mattress store is considered. Anyone over 40 is sitting on benches and watching the younger crowd. Probably in envy. There was still store after store specifically for teens and twenty-somethings. The clothing was cheap and cheaply made, minimally priced and sized to fit teeny bodies. Now, I had to try on no less than three pairs of pants on Friday before I could find a pair that would fit. This not-going-out-of-the-house situation has made me realize that I have put a few pounds onto an already less-than-svelte body. I was determined on Friday not to let it bother me, but at the mall, it was too painfully obvious that I was out of my league. The "big" league. Not the one I wanted to be called up to.

So once again, I find myself in a slump. I'm questioning everything about myself. I hate this uncertainty and the feeling of not being good enough in any way. I'm afraid to try to work for anyone because I doubt I could maintain any kind of schedule or handle any stress at all. I would love to work at the boutique where I was offered a job, but my consistently low moods won't go over very well in a store where I would have to be "up" all the time. And I haven't made it back to the office where I was employed to get the things I need to work at home. I have not started the Etsy shop I have planned and now am wondering if I'm going to be able to anyway. My ideas involve non-eco-friendly materials, and I've been doing a bit of thinking about that lately. I would have to change quite a lot of my designs if I go to all natural materials. And, I screwed up at the shoe store because they wouldn't let me return the shoes (I paid through Paypal so I could only exchange them), and I traded them in for a pair that I know I will never wear because I have nowhere to go. I have a closet full of awesome clothing that I'm not wearing because I can't fit into them and have no place to go. I'm not taking care of myself, inside or out, because who will notice? Certainly not my other half. Nor would he care. I'm not doing anything meaningful, nothing with a purpose, nothing that benefits anyone. What is the point of being me??

I hate feeling this way. I hate being the way I am. And I hate continuing to write about it. What used to seem like a good place to record my thoughts now just feels like a place for constant pity-parties. Wasn't the point of writing in a journal to feel better? To keep track of my progress? I'm not progressing, I'm stuck in a harmonic wave of oscillating moods that are like a record that skips and plays the same thing over and over and over...

(Image used is a funky necklace entitled "You Sound Like a Broken Record." It's made by WillowandIvy and available at the Etsy shop of the same name.)

Toss me a towel...

The recent appraisal and my marathon cleaning project have propelled me deeper into depression. My biggest triggers that caused the decline are stress and lack of sleep. Fatigue can be a trigger, but it is often a result of not sleeping enough. The last weekend prior to Monday's appraisal was the most hectic of the three weeks I spent cleaning. I got very little sleep Saturday night and practically none on Sunday night. The appraisal itself became a stressor as the deadline got closer, and my other half constantly voicing his worries only added to my stress. I thought if I heard him say one more time that we weren't going to make it (to the deadline), I was going to shoot him. Thankfully, I don't keep a gun in the house. His lucky week, I guess. Anyway, between pushing my limits in these areas (fatigue, lack of sleep, stress) and getting a new puppy, I went downhill quickly. The puppy isn't stressing me at all, but my allergies have gone haywire since getting him! Whatever he was bathed in on the day we picked him up is doing a number on my sinus and skin allergies as well as keeping the door slightly opened so that I can teach him that the yard is where he goes when he has to go. Add to that the dust stirred up while cleaning. By late Wednesday, I had a minor case of hives along with a mind that wasn't functioning well. I was in tears by Friday with a major case of hives and no mind to speak of. I had to take extra Benedryl to combat the hives, which really puts me in a fog. I tried to do several puzzles to keep my brain focused, but I wasn't even seeing all of the numbers. Saturday and Sunday were both the same.

Today it has been one week since the appraisal and most of the things that occurred to send me into this decline. I have tried to keep up with the events in terms of my depression cycle as well as how long it takes me to recover. Having been able to avoid my stressors for awhile, I can track the cycle better than I have ever been able to. I know that I have hit the bottom of this cycle and am on my way back up. Last week after the appraisal I was supposed to get my nails done, return some shoes at the mall, go to a chiropractic appointment and get the quarterly information from my employer by Friday. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to leave the house to accomplish any of those things. And they all were very necessary. I am apparently going to keep experiencing this fear of leaving the house when I am in a low cycle. Good to know these things and even better to be able to track them. I should be back to the point at which my meds are controlling my depression by the end of the week. Hopefully, sooner.

Meanwhile, I'll rest and recover and let the craziness of the last four weeks drip off/out. I think whoever said "don't sweat the small stuff" must have never had much stuff and could afford to forget the small ones. I'll sweat it all away, thank you.

(Image used is entitled "Tranquility," an oil painting by shiloratnerart at Etsy.)

Take the trash out and let the dog in...

Our appraisal has come and gone, thank goodness! Although I never did get the house completely in order, the lady said it looked great, took a few pictures, made some measurements and left. Strangely enough, the fifteen minutes she was here was a bit of a letdown given that I had prepared for it for a whole month. For something that took over my life for that length of time, she should have stayed and celebrated with me!! Oh well, several good things did come out of the cleaning spree. First, I actually put a major dent in the task that has hung over my head for years. Secondly, I am feeling much better about staying home now that I'm accomplishing something meaningful. I have vowed to stay on top of it each week so that it will never become so overwhelming again. And lastly, we can actually have people in to visit for a weekend or just come over for dinner. Or open the front door when the pizza is delivered instead of going out through the garage.

In the meantime, my other half has been in contact with a person who rescued a Golden Retriever from a shelter on the day it was to be put down. She had gone in to adopt another breed but couldn't leave this little guy to his fate. She took him home with the intention of immediately giving him away. My other half apparently saw her offer to adopt him at the same time she posted it. They began emailing about a week ago, and she has promised us first chance at adopting him. Somehow, this all managed to go right over my head since my head was buried in the stuff I was cleaning. I can't decide whether it is a good idea or not, but if the dog ever makes it to our home, he'll be here to stay! The five-month-old puppy is a white-blond, smallish male. He was dropped off at the shelter overnight with no information. According to his rescuer, he has obviously been abused and is frightened of almost everything. My heart is telling me to go for it, of course! Staying at home gives me the best opportunity to work with him to overcome his fears. But four dogs? Well, I guess if people can have four kids, we can have four dogs. Hubby drove over an hour to see the puppy last night, but didn't bring him home. I think that was just a waste of gas, if anyone asks me. We had several calls and messages asking if we got him, so it seems he has told everybody about getting this dog. However, when he went to pick him up, he said he wasn't quite sure about it. I think he just doesn't want to overwhelm the other three dogs we already have! He's worried about how they will react. I don't think it's going to be a problem, since each time we bring one in, the rest just smell him/her and then go back to what they were doing. They are so accepting of another pack member. So, hubs is going back tonight to get the dog. Waste of gas. And of course, we've already named him. What does that say? My hubby worked for a short time for the NY Yankees and has always been a huge fan, so that is how we got started on the current names. We've had Yogi and Berra (brothers), Maris, Guidry and now....drumroll....Munson! He was the catcher when Guidry pitched for the Yankees, so it seemed like the name to choose. I'm sure I'll be posting about Munson soon.

As I said, I'm really feeling good about things right now. I had felt guilty for so long about staying home. But my employer has decided to let me do the bookkeeping at home, and I got a call last week from someone who wants me to work in her boutique a few days per week. And I'll probably soon have another baby to love and train.

Bookkeeping, boutiques and babies. Sounds pretty good to me!

(Image used is entitled "Coming Home" and is by everydayeros at Etsy.)

Just say whoa...

Most people say time flies when they are having fun. For me, time flies even faster when I have an unpleasant chore, maybe because I wish the time away. I simply cannot believe that it's been two weeks since my last post or that I have done one thing and one thing only in that same time. Clean. Clean and then clean some more. (Yikes, big lie there. I'll explain in my next post, hopefully sooner than two weeks from now!)

For the last five or more years, my schedule was so full that I had very little time for cleaning. On the weekends I was exhausted from doing too many things at one time. As usual, I said yes to too much and needed to learn to just say no. In between the stuff I was doing were several emotional upheavals (are there other kinds in my life??) that created their own stress and exhaustion. And at some point within the last few years, I had gradually started that winding down time of life known as menopause. While some women may have been prepared for the changes, I was not. I have always had fatigue that resulted from monthly hormonal changes, and this was as bad if not worse. Suffice it to say that if I was at home, my preference always was to rest rather than clean. If I did any cleaning, it was minimal.

Funny how things can really pile up. One day there is that day's mail on the counter, then suddenly there are weeks' worth just sitting there. Not to mention the things emptied out of my hubby's pockets each night as well as the stuff I brought in each week from the many projects I was working on. It was so much easier to move the piles upstairs to keep them out of sight. Of course, there came a point when the piles had to stay downstairs because there was no room upstairs. And laundry? Piles of dirty laundry versus piles of clean ones. Did I mention that I don't like to use the washer on a lot of items and never use the dryer on anything except linens? I have four clothes racks that are labeled by color and are constantly in use. Move the dry clothes off the rack onto the sofa and start the whole process over again.

Imagine how completely embarrassing this is for me to reveal. Now imagine how it was to actually have anyone see it. No one, and I do mean no one, was allowed to come in my house for the last five years. One friend did see it because she took me home after a surgical procedure, and at the time I could have cared less that she saw it. Later, however, I was truly mortified. My other half's family were sending him articles about how to deal with hoarding. As angry as that made me, I still did nothing about it. I knew I wasn't hoarding, and he really didn't think it was either, but he wasn't certain. The few times I did try to work on the house, I got so overwhelmed that very little was actually accomplished. There was too much to do in such a short amount of time.

Which brings me to what has kept me away for two weeks. We are refinancing since I haven't been working and contributing to household expenses. At some point, there will be an appraisal, and that is what ultimately motivated me to get to work. The first week was almost a full-time cleaning event. Almost round the clock since we thought that the appraisal was going to be "any day now." Unfortunately, I got so tired that the second week has been more part-time with rest periods in between and an early quitting time. I am happy to report that things are looking much, much better! I have managed to get all but one room in decent shape. Not completely clean, but I will go back and do more if I have time. I saved the worst room for last. Actually, I started upstairs and worked my way downstairs, so it just happened to work out that way.

Anyway, that's what I've been doing, and time has flown. I have purposely not taken time to look at anything online, knowing how I have a tendency to spend hours bouncing around in space. No reading since I usually start and finish a book in a single sitting. And definitely no tea parties! No, I forced myself to focus on the cleaning. Now I know why an annual spring cleaning is recommended. Otherwise, stuff, both necessary and not, just piles up and becomes overwhelming. And although it took a TV show ("Hoarding" on AandE, I think) and several chats, my hubby realizes that I'm really not hoarding, just holding onto and collecting things for all my artistic endeavors. I'm not sure, but I think he based his decision on the fact that in the show there were lots of dead creepy critters underneath all the "stuff" that was shoveled out. Thankfully, I didn't have to use a shovel, and I am happy to report that no critters were found during my cleanup. Well, except for the three that kept taking the trash out of the bags and playing with it, making me wonder if they shouldn't go in the bags, too!

I also thought about hiring some help at first. This crew looked interesting and did have a shovel, but I couldn't find any recommendations, so I just said...

(Image used is entitled "Mule Day Cleanup Crew" and is by PhotoAmerica at Etsy.)

These shoes were made for walking...

Another problem these days is trying to decide what to do about finances. I was out of work last year for almost six months. I went back part-time in January, but thus far I've only been able to go one day per week. Our financial situation isn't one that will allow me to remain on the employment fence much longer. Actually, I think I have to be off of the fence by the end of this weekend.

It may be so hard to get my butt into the office every week because the extreme stress that sent me over the edge is probably always in the back of my mind. There is something in my head that just refuses to listen to reasoning even when I know I'm really going to be in trouble with my other half if I don't go into work. I have often thought that shame might play a part in how I feel about my failures or when I can't meet expectations. I remember specific incidents of shame being the disciplinary vehicle my mom used. Guess it carried over. It's either fear of the stress or shame, or it may be a combination of the two, but I'm not doing a very good job of getting past it.

I really liked my job. I really like the people I worked for. But I couldn't take the stress of being the only other employee doing all the admin and client paperwork. They admitted on more than one occasion that they needed at least two people and maybe three. They knew I was working too many hours and never making a dent in the stacks. We just couldn't ever find anyone. The one person we hired stayed only a few months. They hired someone else after I had been gone about two months. Now I'm more of a gopher, trying to help get things caught up. I can make my own schedule and am not responsible for any of the day-to-day stuff. It should be a no-brainer, so why am I so hesitant to go back? Maybe I should go be a greeter at Walmart or get a part-time job at the mall. I couldn't work at a bookstore, clothing store, shoe store or pet store. I would simply hand my check back to the owner on payday. That doesn't leave me many no-brainer possibilities for employment. I don't want to work somewhere that I will get so involved and feel so responsible. Gets me into too much trouble. I would love to do something at home, but I have no self-motivation right now. And there is still the issue of making a difference whatever I do. I saw an ad on TV recently that advised doing marketing surveys online that paid "thousands" of dollars. Yeah. What I really wish is that I could get paid for cleaning up my house. It has suffered the past year right along with me.

During tea today, my friends gave me a bit of advice. Alice said she wouldn't recommend falling into a hole, but she did admit that if I was in a place where everyone was mad, mad, mad, I might feel right at home. I'm thinking that the most important thing about their experiences is that neither one of them had a need for cash. Not in Wonderland or Oz. Something to consider.

Wonder how far it is to Yellow Brick Road. If I don't start making a monetary contribution to the home fund soon, I'm gonna be sent packing.

(Image used in this post is by artist Margaret Teichert and is entitled "The Yellow Brick Road." It can be found at margaretteichert.com.)

Who am I...

I find myself pondering the questions of who I am, where I am going and what I have accomplished. These are things that until now I've never asked myself. I've made choices I thought were the right ones to make. I've done my best in anything I endeavored to do. I have tried to make a difference wherever I am. I have always walked to my own drummer's beat and hopefully always will. I have never let age be an issue, never given it a second's thought. I have always known exactly who I am. Until now.

A little background info might be the thing. I had a very stressful time of it last year and took a "leave of absence" from work. Twice. For almost four months total. It took three of those months to recover from the emotional and physical consequences of the stress. Emotional stress isn't anything new for me, but the physical problems were not only new, they resulted in a state of mind that led me to The Place. I have changed physically in significant ways. Physically, I am no longer who I was. The overwhelming change that occurred was being thrown into post-menopause. And therefore being thrown into a tailspin of questioning everything about myself. Something has "died" inside of me, and I can't seem to get my head around that.

So in the midst of trying to decide who I am now and where I'm going, I'm also struggling with how to get back into the workplace. I've been given the green light for a part-time job with the employer for whom I was working when I was so stressed. There has been no definition of "part-time" on his part, however, and I am one who needs structure. Therefore, I'm left hanging as to how to proceed. Of course, there is the fact that the stressful part of the job hasn't really changed. I'll walk right back into it even as a part-time employee. Now, I will admit that he has hired someone to take my place, so it won't come close to being as bad as it was before, but it still will be bad. So what with knowing that it will be a bit stressful and not knowing exactly what my new part-time position entails, I'm feeling a bit lost.

As I have said, I am one who needs to make a difference no matter what I do. I have always been aware of this need, especially when I felt like I wasn't meeting it. Because I have been away from a work environment for so long, I'm giving more thought to my options. Isn't there a saying that if one does what one loves, the rest will follow? I'm assuming that "the rest" means an income. So what is it that I love doing? Can I do it well enough to make a living at it? Will it make a difference in this world? And most importantly, will it help me to leave The Place where I no longer know who I am? Asking myself these questions is enough to make me hyperventilate.

(Image used in this post is entitled "Trying to Breathe" by LightLeaks, found on Etsy.)