I found her only to lose her...

Blew my resolution to post every week, huh? What's it been--three weeks? I guess I could blame it on the weather (snow and ice) or my birthday (late January), but neither would be true. I've just been doing more reading lately. I'm in the middle of reading five series, and I'm not even a big fan of series. When I know a new book is almost out, I usually re-read all the prior books just to remember what happened, which sometimes feels like a big waste of time. But most authors take +/- a year to get the next book out, and when I think about where I've been in the last two years, I can see why I don't remember anything.

I posted earlier--actually, the last post now that I look--about reading the Stieg Larsson trilogy that started with TGWTDT. I wasn't certain how I felt about that first book. Since then I've finished the other books, The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest. Again, once I started reading, I couldn't put them down. I felt obliged to read the second one but then couldn't wait to start the third. Larsson is most definitely a master storyteller. This trilogy was like a roller coaster ride. It started out by taking me slowly up that first hill, and once it reached the top, it was a wild ride from then on. Lisbeth Salander finally stole my heart. I think I couldn't relate so much to her at first because she was so unemotional, and of course that's so not me. But I gave her and the author the benefit of the doubt and was rewarded by an amazing story of remarkable survival despite the odds, extraordinary courage acting against those who did harm and blossoming trust that reluctantly acknowledges that there are some good people in the world that we might call friends. I know, I know, I'm prone to seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and the glass half full. Lisbeth gave up on that a long time ago. She was motivated by a lot of hate, but still, I got her. In a way that someone who has never come close to suffering what she did, I got her. I really wanted to know more about her.

It's unfortunate that there may be no more books in what was to be a ten-book series. Larsson had a basic outline of the entire series, and he had about half of the fourth book written before he died. His life companion has said she could finish it, but it's tied up in the legal system. It was to be primarily about Lisbeth and her life as she adjusts to what she finally has revealed about her past. We were going to learn about the meanings of her tattoos, namely that each represented someone who had hurt her. I wanted to know what happened to her twin sister, Camille, and how she might have reacted upon learning about Lisbeth's trial and the truth of their lives. And I really wanted to know more about Lisbeth.

Not only do I highly recommend this trilogy, but I also would suggest reading Larsson's biography. His outspokenness in fighting racism made him a target of violence. Explains why he could write about it and make me feel it.

Reading List

Absolutely nothing going on of any interest to post. And having had two more snow days--really more like ice days--this past week and an upcoming holiday on Monday means not much computer time. I am currently re-reading four books of a series in anticipation of reading the fourth. The series is on the level of the Harry Potter books, but surprisingly I've enjoyed it. No, I didn't read the HP series nor have I seen any of the movies. And I finally read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Now there is a book about which I have very mixed feelings. I never felt a connection to any of the characters, and it was a tedious read, not to mention that some of it was just hard to read. That said, I stayed up all night to read it--I could not put it down. Hhmm. Weird. It did make me reconsider getting a tattoo. I've always wanted one. Probably too old now. I recently picked up the second book by Steig Larsson, The Girl Who Played With Fire, so I'll be reading that soon as well.

Cookies, chocolate and calories--Oh My!

One of my New Year's resolutions was to post at least once per week. Well, here I am once again at the last minute trying to get something in, but that still means that Resolution #1 is on track. Resolution #2 is in process as I've found a few things and put out a few feelers. I felt really vulnerable by opening myself up, and it has created some apprehension since I haven't heard back from anyone yet. I'm playing a guessing game with myself--who have they contacted and what have they been told?

Resolution #3 was to lower my spending even further, and so far into 2011, I am doing fabulous on this one! Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it's only the first week? Continuing to clean up my house was #4, and that one hasn't gotten underway yet. I guess I can use the same excuse as for #3. And #5 was for me to be more creative, so making up excuses for the others has that one going strong!

Well, at least I didn't include the usual promise to lose weight. That one would have been out the window by the second day. If only my hubby hadn't bought those extra bags of after-Christmas sale priced Moravian cookies...

Resolved...

It's been over a month since I last posted, but things seem always to be so busy between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was a great month for me, though, as I really was able to appreciate the season and enjoyed spending time with my family. It's been almost a decade since I've been able to say that.

I started this journal last year with the intention of trying to work through my emotional collapse. Steff recently said something about the need to study the effects of journal/blogging online. I hadn't thought of it until then, and I completely agree. Maybe I can be a guinea pig in the study! I do think that this was a big part of helping me work through my state of mind and was better for me than a handwritten journal. It was a big step for me to take since I tend to be very wary of sharing anything with anyone. I was also able to use my need to be creative which I found wasn't at all inspired otherwise. My creative spirit was as depleted as my emotions.

I realized that today is December 31, the last day of the year, and I'm inspired to make some New Year's resolutions, again for the first time in years.

1--Continue to post to this journal at least once per week to track my mental and emotional health.

2--Determine and then do the one thing I can do at this point either as a volunteer or an employee (part-time). I have to find a way to put meaning back in my life but not at the expense of my healing to date. I hope to do more as healing continues.

3--Take my slowdown in spending to a new low. I have enough of stuff for ten people. I don't need to purchase anything except personal items and books. I don't think I can limit it so strictly, though. Not at this point. So I don't want to resolve to stop buying the unnecessary stuff.

4--Continue to do the cleanup that began when we refinanced last year. I got it only halfway completed. I need to get my surroundings in order. It's part of my healing and will give me another thing to feel that I do have some control over my life.

5--In somewhat of a combination of resolutions #3 and #4, be creative again. I have accumulated a lot of materials to make things and need to use them or lose them. I know that creativity is something I need in my life, whether it is art or clothing, and I like to make both.

Best wishes for a happy and successful 2011!

Happy New Year!!

(Image is from the Etsy shop, Hudsonsholidays. Handmade New Year's flashcards that can be downloaded and printed. Good thing since I've waited until the last minute...)

Gobble, Gobble...

Today is Thanksgiving Day, and all over the country people and families will be sitting down to a bountiful meal and offering up thanks for the blessings of their lives. Regardless of circumstances, we all have something for which to be thankful. As for me, I think every day will be Thanksgiving Day from now on.

Turkeys everywhere are probably thankful that that won't be the case for anyone else.

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

(Image used is from best-norman-rockwell-art.com)

There is a Gaelic proverb that says our reactions are but echoes of our past. I can see now that that is exactly how I've lived--reacting to the present based on my past. Can I change that? Can hope send its roots deep and allow me to react/interact while looking at the present or even to the future?





This state of calm has brought hope, more hope than I have had in a very long time. I will hold it, nurture it and cherish it.

image via stadpolitik.wordpress

The calm after the storm...

For the last few months, I've been considering no longer posting to this journal. I felt like I had nothing new to say or address regarding my mental and emotional health. I started this journal in an effort to try to find ways to deal with the depression that has plagued me for over 25 years. I have had no success in talking with a therapist--I seem to be unable to open up with a "live" audience. There are things that I have shared with only a few trusted friends (who later betrayed my trust) and things that I've buried deep inside and never told anyone. This journal was to be my outlet for digging up and discussing those issues. Some entries took minutes to write. Others took days. They were written and rewritten and sometimes deleted. Most of them were written through tears. I often felt drained after finishing some of them. I usually spent hours looking for just the right image to express the sentiment of the entry, but that creative element was often what brought relief to an otherwise emotionally draining time. I haven't ever gone back and reread my entries. Not yet, anyway. I will, someday.

But now, I find myself at a turning point after 14 months of near isolation spent in introspection. Last night, I had something of a revelation, one of those sit-straight-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night kind of moments. I realized that I really feel different. Almost calm. I wouldn't say that I am at peace, more of a feeling of being comfortable or content. I thought, at first, that this sense of calm was emotional exhaustion. Now I realize it's that I've lost the overwhelming despair that I've been dealing with for the past year. Despair has made every moment of every day seem hopeless and meaningless, so much so that I will admit to often wanting to just quit trying to get better. Despair is like constantly having a dark cloud overhead that threatens to turn into a storm at any minute. It colors every thought, feeling and action.

So I've decided to continue with this journal but with a different purpose. Many thanks to those who have stuck with me and read my past entries, painful though they might have been. Thanks, too, for the encouragement and words of wisdom. What I hope to accomplish in staying the course here is to chronicle my continued healing, not peppered with despair and exhaustion, but with strength and hope born from a year of struggling through the storms. I'm working on making some changes to the site to reflect my new found self.

I can't wait to get started...

Dancing the night away...

I saw "Billy Elliot" way back when it was released on--ahem--tape. It actually seems much longer, but it came out a bit over ten years ago. It has multi-layered meanings for me, and I watched it probably three times a day for a week. I originally got it because it was about dancing, and if only for that, it is amazing. Anyways, we went to see "Billy Elliot, The Musical" last night. It came here for its debut tour stop. I knew it was going to be good--it won the Tony for best musical--and it was "Billy Elliot," for crying out loud--but I really didn't have high expectations. I didn't think it could come close to touching me on an emotional level the way the movie did. And I was right. The production was fantastic, no doubt. The dancing was incredible. There were five different boys playing the part of Billy due to the rigors of the roll. The kid we saw could not have been better, but Jamie Bell holds a piece of my heart. I was a little surprised by how close the musical stayed true to the language of the movie. Down yere in tha sowth we dowt git much cussin in orwn shozs. Ah, wake up, y'all! I argued all the way home about how integral it was to the show. It was about miners in Ireland during a strike. Miners. Ireland. Duh. I drank a Guinness during the first half of the show in support of those miners.

So, I give it a thumbs up and highly recommend seeing it if it comes your way. Be ready to laugh. The scenes between Billy and Michael are hysterical. Be ready to be amazed by the dancing. But don't worry about bringing a Kleenex or three.

At last...

Hit a slump about ten days ago. Not a really bad one, but enough to keep me down-in-the-dumps and my brain in rehash-mode. I've thought through so many past events, step by painful step, and didn't resolve anything. As usual. Makes for a hard time sleeping, too, and when I have been able to sleep, I can't remember my dreams. I started writing down my dreams a few months back. I read somewhere that as we change and age, our dreams change as well. Mine have. Most of my dreams have always revolved around anxiety of some sort. Two of the most frequent involved falling or drowning. Lately, however, I'm either trying to find something or to get somewhere. I guess I don't need Freud here, huh? I know dreams are supposed to be the brain's way of siphoning through our experiences and emotions, resolving what is/isn't important and dumping the crap. It's funny how the mind works, though. When I think too much about stuff, I don't seem to dream, and my strangest dreams occur during my most normal times. Or whatever passes as normal for me.

On a completely unrelated note, my bonus for curtailing my spending habits is the purchase of a long-wanted piece from my favorite designer, Patricia of Artlab. I'm sure anyone who has followed her as long as I have already owns the Andromache shirt made of deconstructed tshirts. This incredible garment can be purchased from her shop at Etsy.

Sail away, sail away, sail away...

Today is Columbus Day here in the good ole' US of A. The day is celebrated in both North and South America because Christopher Columbus (the "American" version of Cristoforo Colombo, his name in Italian) is usually given credit for having discovered the New World in 1492. However, the Vikings were really the first to do so. Norsemen from Scandinavia arrived here in the 10th century and began settlements in the northern part of the continent in what is now Canada. Less well known is the American holiday Leif Erikson Day, celebrated (such as it is) on October 9th and commemorating the day his ship arrived in New York Harbor bringing immigrants from Norway.

The USA is primarily a country of immigrants. Except for the descendants of the indigenous people who are now referred to as American Indians (Columbus thought he had landed in the East Indies), our ancestors either came here looking for a better way of life or were brought here. Sadly, for a country founded on freedom, we didn't offer that right to everyone in the earlier years.

Again, sadly, the freedoms we cherish as individuals often conflict with the freedom of the whole. We guarantee the freedom to worship but protest when we don't like the religious practices of another. We have the right to free speech but think we can force our words or beliefs on others. Freedom of the press often means not always hearing the whole story or maybe not even the truth. We vote on our leaders as a democracy, but then don't have, as individuals, a say in the actions of those leaders. The very makeup of our country--immigrants--guarantees that our country will always be diverse and often divided. The melting pot can be a hot pot of controversy.

Sometimes I wish I could be like Columbus and Erikson and discover a New World where everyone would live in freedom, peace and harmony.

(Image used is entitled "Santa Maria." The photograph is of the bow of the ship of the statue in Columbus Circle outside Union Station in Washington, DC. Visit the Etsy shop at Raceytay or the artist's blog ibrakeforbokeh.com for more beautiful pictures and information.)


When Columbus started out he didn't know where he was going, when he got there he didn't know where he was, and when he got back he didn't know where he had been.
--Anonymous

Did I mention freakish?

When I discovered that Orphaned Land, the Israeli metal band I found on Steff's blog, was going to be in town, my younger brother was the first one I thought of asking to go with me. When we were growing up, he always had heavy metal albums playing with the volume up as loud as it would go. I remember thinking that the album covers would freak my mom out if she ever saw them.

My brother and his wife are like me--older in age but completely young at heart--and they're usually up for most anything. Whenever I'm with them, we laugh at almost everything, especially each other, so they are a lot of fun. They didn't think that they could go at first but ended up working it into their schedule. And last night was the night! I wasn't entirely comfortable going into a crowd, but the feeling passed. Plus, I was just plain uncomfortable due to a freakish accident (more on that in a moment). While the first band played, we gradually made our way forward through the crowd. By the time OL started playing, I was practically on the stage. They were so amazing! When they finished, they came out to the bar area to sell their merchandise. I got all of their autographs on the insert of my CD "The Never Ending Way of ORwarriOR" and had my picture made with them. We started chatting with some other fans, and my sister-in-law Theresa took tons of pictures. We talked about our favorite songs, all got t-shirts and autographs. I could tell that I wasn't the only one crazy about OL. However, I probably should mention that while everyone else in the entire place was wearing black/goth/punk/vampire/something-I've-never-seen-before-with-fur, I was wearing a white shirt. Freakishly white. I felt freakish at first, too, and really, who could feel freakish among vampires and something wearing fur? Then I decided it just didn't matter. And it was a freakish accident because I'm always the one who wears black, so what was I thinking? Freakish. Theresa and I also decided we were the oldest two people there, but again, who cared? I got to drink Guinness and see Orphaned Land up close and personal! Not only are they all gorgeous, but they are ssooooo nice. Nothing like I expected nice. Almost shy. Well, that might have something to do with the fact that they don't all speak English well or maybe not at all. Truly beautiful people. I'm so glad I got to see and meet them.

Steff, I owe you.

(Image used is entitled "Le Petit Assassin" and can be purchased at Etsy shop naughtyandnice. The artist claims to have been "raised by wolves and fairies.")

Yeah, saw those last night. Freakish, huh?

Sigh...

I've been spending a lot of time lately paring down my list of online favs and bookmarks. As with everything else in my life, I tend to go overboard and want to hold onto every site that interests or inspires me. Unfortunately, I've made it difficult to find those few that I go to every day. As I was sorting through this maze, I stumbled upon a blog that features a woman who must have some Swedish or Norweigian ancestry because she decorates her space in white and primarily wears black and white. Her posts consist of two or three photos of herself in a drool-inducing outfit and a few well-chosen words. She wants no distraction or chaos. Apparently, her life is extremely well-ordered.

I want to live in her world.

(Image used is entitled "Serenity" and can be found at Etsy in the shop alifethroughthelens. The artist says that photography helps find the calm moment, to "slow down and look for details that I would otherwise miss." Ah, to find that myself. Oh, yes, see more of this artist at iseelifethroughalens.blogspot.com)

Sapari li...

My favorite blogger, Steff of kOs, has once again provided me with what I'm considering might be the best band ever, along with causing me to reminisce about my favorite place ever! A few months ago, she introduced me to Eleveitie, a Celtic metal band. I was immediately in love with them and their sound. Now, I'm completely enthralled by the Israeli band Orphaned Land. By completely enthralled, I mean that not only have I ordered two Cd's but that until I get them I have been constantly playing their youtube videos. I didn't even do that with Eleveitie, and I thought they were beyond fabulous. So yeah. Con. Stant. Ly. I wonder if I can break either my computer or youtube. The number of views for these videos has seriously increased in the past week thanks to moi. Orphaned Land has combined metal with Middle Eastern instruments and sounds--I'm pretty sure I even heard what sounded like a shofar blast at one point. I really love the combined effect, plus they do an incredible job at putting ancient texts to music. Love, love, love them. And I just happen to love their country.

One of the things on my bucket list was checked off four years ago when I went on a 2-week journey through Israel. It will probably rank as the highlight of my life. I would go back in a heartbeat if I could. Israel is a country of contradictions and diversity, and it affects all the senses. There are lush, abundant gardens and dry, sparse deserts right alongside barbed wire fences and bunkers. Certain cities are a combination of ancient ruins and bombed buildings. Yet despite all of the obvious signs of conflict, Israel remains one of the most beautiful places on earth. I can't begin to explain how much this trip meant to me. I really was fortunate to be able to go there considering the politics of the area. At the time, I was involved in a study whose leader was able to plan a better tour than most because of our guide and his contacts. The lady in charge of the study had been to Israel earlier and met him, and together they arranged what might be the perfect tour. The guide was knowledgeable about the political situation and decided that our dates of travel were well-timed. We traveled the length and width of the country. We landed in Tel Aviv and headed north to Mount Hermon, right at the border with Lebanon. The Hezbollah would attack six weeks later. Yes, this trip could have been dangerous, and my hubby and family certainly thought so, but quite honestly I was never afraid. Our guide was a Palestinian Christian, so we even made it through several Palestinian checkpoints without incident. We did have to exit the bus and walk in a line set up like a ride at Disney. The main difference was the grated ceiling and the uzi toting guards watching us from above. We saw armed soldiers almost everywhere we went, and we did find ourselves in the midst of gunfire at one point. We ducked. As for the guide, he was considered to be one the best in the area, known to almost everyone, and he was a serious scholar of history and religion. He must have memorized everything he read because he could quote for hours and would give us the detailed history of whatever site we were getting ready to see. As for the places we toured, I can't begin to recount all of my thoughts and feelings. Okay, so I'll try, but take all the usual touristy spots and multiply by ten. Maybe twenty. It was really intense. I got re-baptized in the Jordan River, crossed the Sea of Galilee in a replica of an ancient boat and walked knee-deep in the Dead Sea and got caked with the clingy mud. I stood in the ruins of the city of Masada and felt the silence. I walked quietly uphill along the narrow Via Dolorosa amidst the chattering merchants in their market stalls. I climbed the exact steep steps to Caiaphas' house that Christ would have climbed as He was taken to the high priest. I prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the slope of the Mount of Beatitudes and at the Wailing Wall. My Jewish neighbor sent a "tefilah," or prayer, she had written on paper and rolled into a scroll for me to insert in a crack in the Wailing Wall, which of course I did. I knelt reverently before a small grotto in the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem where Christianity had its beginning and stood quietly on Mount Meggido looking down on the plains where Armageddon, or the end, is prophesied. I grieved at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Memorial, and wept at the candle-lit Children's Memorial with its endless, quiet recitation of names of the Jewish children who died in the Holocaust. I saw the oldest arched city gate in existence, which as a ruin still stands two stories high, in the ancient city of Ashkelon and shivered to think that I was standing where the Canaanites lived almost 4,000 years earlier. I visited Jericho, Qumran, Caesarea, Mount Carmel and Beit Shean and marveled at the old cities and the ruins. I saw Jews, Muslims and Christians together in one place. I ate some of the best food I've ever tasted. So how to top a trip to the Holy City? Why, with a tour of several Greek Islands, the city of Athens and the ancient city of Corinth and Ephesus in Turkey, of course! We had one free afternoon in Athens that wasn't planned to the absolute last second, and wouldn't you know it but that afternoon, the students had an organized riot and we got caught up in it! We did our best to stay out of the way, but there were several city blocks of students battling the heavily armed αστυνομία, or police, and tanks! We even got tear gassed, but we loved every second of it!

Phew. Just reliving this amazing trip was tiring. I think I slept for a week when we got back. I was jet-lagged and just plain exhausted from going full speed for 14 days. So now back to the subject that got all of this started! Orphaned Land is coming here!! I happened to check their tour schedule and saw that they will be right here in less than two weeks! Here within 20 miles of my house!! I am way passed excited, but guess what? I can't get anybody to go with me. I'll admit to having very few friends who would be interested in listening to a metal band, but then again, I'm not the biggest fan of old-style heavy metal, either. But since Steff opened my eyes (really, I should have said ears here, right?), I've learned that the genre has expanded to include folk metal, viking metal and symphonic metal. Come on, there's gotta be something for everybody in the list of subgenres, right?

So, tell me Steff, are you up for a trip to visit me if I can't persuade anyone else to go?

(Image used is from the newest release by Orphaned Land, "The Never Ending Way of OrwarriOR," a "concept album" with their "unique brand of exotic, heavy music." Their wish is for people to rise above their cultural and religious beliefs and be united by the universal language of music. This image actually combines Hebrew and Arabic lettering. The band had a calligraphy artist to create this for the album. Read more about them at www.orphaned-land.com. Watch and listen to their single, "Sapari," at www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUi1yf97paw. Steff's amazing blog is at www.musingsofbuffyleigh.blogspot.com .)

I am a warrior...

Good news on every front! Dad is doing great after his surgery from over a month ago. Mom's lab work on the mass removed from her breast was negative! Yay!! Maris recovered from the vertigo eight days after she got it. Woohoo!! Now she is trying to recover her strength. For the duration of the vertigo, she stayed in her "safe" place--the recliner--and didn't move unless we picked her up to take her out. Now she is actually trying to go up and down the steps on the deck and is jogging around the yard trying to keep up with the others!! She does have the head tilt the vet said she might get. Funny how that happens. My other half is just happy she is now willing to be back on her usual bed so he can have the recliner back! In other news, the cars are not in the shop, I am not having any more panic attacks and I got a thank-you note from my boss for doing the extra work! Also, since I went to my internist three months ago, I had blood work done to check on my progress. All of the high "bad" numbers were down below half of what they were, and the low numbers--primarily Vitamin D--was well above the "good" range!! I have even lost eight pounds. I wouldn't say that I can tell a huge difference, but I did manage to zip up and wear a pair of jeans that I haven't worn in almost a year when I went in for the appointment last week. Of course, slow and steady is the best way to lose, so eight lbs in three months isn't too bad. Last time I lost weight, it was soooo slow to start with and then it seemed like I was thinner overnight. Hopefully that will be the case now. Since hubby was diagnosed with diabetes this summer, we have really changed our eating habits, which is a good thing for us both.

Whew. Now that all of the craziness of the past six weeks is over, I'm working through emotional fatigue and the resulting physical fatigue. With the panic attacks and anxiety and the "tied-up-in-knots" feeling, my insides are exhausted. I'm basically feeling "flat" now--too tired to have any emotions. But I'll take that over the roller coaster ride any day! I'm pushing through to the other side.

Two weekends ago, I worked for my friend on the Saturday of her anniversary sale. It's always a zoo but can also be a lot of fun. And although I didn't start off the day so well, it ended up being good. Part of that was seeing people I haven't seen for a long time, one of whom was Linda. She lost her husband a little over a year ago, and I met her at last year's sale. She and I hit it off, and I was so happy to see that she looked good and has been working through her own issues. She told me that she has started journaling to help with the process, and she had recently decided that she was a warrior and was battling to become her best self. Sounds familiar, I said. I immediately pointed to the "braids" in my hair. I got my hair cut shorter about three weeks ago. It was the first time I've had anything done to my hair in a long time. I think the gal cut about six inches off. Anyway, I've been twisting some of it and letting it dry so that the braid-looking bunches wouldn't come apart. I guess I could actually braid it, but this is so much quicker! I've read that Scottish warriors often braided two plaits, one on each side, before going into battle, so that was what I was calling these--my warrior braids. I purposely did these on Saturday, and I also wore my "armor" jewelry--some spoons that one of the sellers on Etsy made for me. One is hammered and the other has small holes in the length of it. They both pretty much cover my fingers. I also have a finger-long twisted-fork ring and bracelet. I wore all of these together (too much??) when I went in on Saturday in an attempt to keep a visual as I worked. My job was to write up the sales, so it was easy to see them and remember that I could do it. I could make it. I would make it cause I am a warrior. It was so comforting to know that Linda and I were there for one another that day, that we could give each other a thumbs-up and feel good instead of anxious or sad. Another friend, Sandra, stayed several hours after the store closed to help me balance out the day. She also gave me a ride home and told me several times how much she had missed seeing me since last year. It felt good to know that so many people hadn't given up on me. Looking back on it, I'm glad that I didn't throw in the towel and stay home that day. I fought the battle and won the day.

Here's to winning the war...

(Image is a grant winning limited edition digital photo-montage print by artist Suzanne Gonsalez. It is entitled "Mayan Princess" and combines scanned fabric with vintage photographs. She sells her work on Etsy at her shop ravenwolf. More of her work can also be seen at ravenwolfgallery.com)

Back out of the saddle?

It started with the emails and phone calls about returning to work. I was anxious about going, but I went. Then Dad had surgery. I took the projects home from work so I didn't have to go to the office, but I was still feeling the stress of the deadline. Lost several nights' sleep. Found out Mom's mammogram showed an unidentifiable mass. Tried to work every day but got so anxious that I never got far. More sleepless nights. Feeling more stress. The transmission in my hubby's car blew up. Took it to the shop. Went a week without transportation since he was driving my car. Had to cancel several appointments. Boss is calling because he thought I would be back within a day or two and what's up with why the work isn't finished. A few mild panic attacks.

Stress gets worse. Mom's doctor scheduled her for surgery. On the day of Mom's surgery, Maris, my precious little angel baby, woke up and ate breakfast, then collapsed. We found out that she has a severe case of vertigo, but we thought she had had a stroke. For two hours that morning, I'm a complete wreck. I've never heard of dogs having vertigo, but according to the vet, it is rather common. I've never actually known a person who has had it, either; however, the symptoms are exactly the same--dizziness, nausea, vomiting, uncontrolled eye movements, difficulty standing or moving, etc. Maris spent the entire day at the vet's office. Find out that her recovery will take two to three weeks. That same afternoon, hubby had a doctor's appointment, I was supposed to deliver the work to the accountant, his car was ready to be picked up and Maris had to be picked up at the vet. Super stressed since I couldn't get the work delivered. I thought hubby was going to have a heart attack because of the cost of getting the car fixed as well as the vet bill. I was anxious because he was. He didn't sleep Thursday night. I spent all day Friday crying because Maris was in such a pitiful state. Had hubby deliver the work to the accountant. By Friday night I thought that I was going to have a heart attack.

Unfortunately, I had agreed several weeks ago to help my friend at her annual anniversary sale on Saturday. She owns a clothing boutique at which I used to work. The anniversary sale is a wild and crazy day with a mob of customers and long lines for both the dressing rooms and the checkout counter. I always run the cash register--I am one of the few who can run the register and credit card machine, write out the handwritten receipts and talk to customers all at the same time without making major errors. Of course I do make some, but I apparently I make fewer than others. Or maybe it's because no one else wants to run the register on that day. Who knows. Anyway, it is always a 12+ hour day what with the set up, sale, break down and closing/settling the register. Part of me wanted to call her on Friday and back out, but I knew I wouldn't and couldn't. Feeling so anxious I can't get to sleep. Very bad since I know how hard the next day is going to be.

Got up on Saturday at 5:45 to feed Maris by hand. Later, while getting ready for work, I had a tremendous panic attack, one so bad that I hyperventilated. I was supposed to be at the boutique by 8:30am, but hubby drove me there around 10:00. Thankfully, I was okay once I got behind the counter and focused on the work. By the end of the day, my brain had stopped working. Although I had made a few errors, I had marked the register tape so I could correct them. I think we balanced within a few dollars, which normally is not acceptable to me, but on a day like Saturday, I'll take it! My dear friend gave me a ride home much later in the evening. I finally ate my lunch (?!) and went to bed. Slept until late Sunday afternoon. I went back to bed at 9:00 that night and slept like the dead.

This morning, Maris has shown a little improvement, and I'm the one who is dizzy.

(Image used is entitled "Carousel in Central Park" and can be found at beautifuldarklight at Etsy.)

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)

Bananas...

Bad, bad me. I didn't make it to work yesterday. I got showered and dressed and put on a few pieces of funky jewelry from a fav Etsy Seller. I even put on makeup, and that hasn't happened more than a handful of times in a year. Took my anxiety meds. Wrote yesterday's post. Listened to a frantic message from my boss.

Maybe I'm being stubborn, but I don't think so. I think I'm picking up their anxiety, and it's building on top of mine. Either way, getting to work ain't happened yet. I called this morning and told them I was trying again this afternoon. Trying. Again.

I mentioned that I got dressed for work and put on makeup, right? What I did forget to say was that I'm also taking my little pet monkey. He hangs out and eats bananas. And didn't we learn from Chiquita Banana that bananas have to ripen before eating? Ripen=progress=prepare. Hey, I'm preparing!

And here I thought being bananas was a bad thing.

(Image used is a print of an original collage that is mounted on a wood block. It is entitled "What's Wrong" and is available for purchase for the Etsy shop WicksomeMay.)

(The original Disney Studios commercial featuring Ms. Chiquita Banana has been out since the 40's. Do you remember the tune? Saying that I do really shows my age. See the entire minute-long video here www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFDOI24RRAE )

But not in my head...

After weeks of staying away from work, I'm getting ready to head that way today. I knew this day was coming, but I just didn't know whether or not I'd be able to handle it. September 15th is a tax deadline, so they are requesting my help ASAP. Tax deadlines would definitely be one of the things that could motivate me to get my butt into the office. Nothing else has managed to do it. I'm feeling apprehensive, and I hope that I will be emotionally able to work at the office. They said that I could take it home if I needed to, but I would like to work there since it would be so much easier than carting a boatload of paperwork back home. Plus, my laptop is set up for the printer at the office and not the one at home.

Got butterflies? Who me?

(The image used today is a portion of an original contemporary mixed media painting by artist Diane Ackers, and it can be purchased in her Etsy shop DianeAckers. I love her use of color as well as the serene expressions on the subjects' faces. For more information, visit her at http://dianeackers.blogspot.com/ )

Sticks and stones...

While I've been dealing with my skyrocketing blood pressure, my dad decided to join the fun. He and I both have problems with something that none of our doctors have ever diagnosed. He deals with more reflux/indigestion while I have nothing but the excruciating pain in my gut. Feels like I've got knives sticking in me from the front and back and lasts for ten or more hours. Both Dad and I have had test after test, both have gone to the ER, etc. without any luck. My problem started when I was in college. Back then, I'd go to the infirmary and they would give me a sedative. Nice. Wake up twelve hours later with no pain. Unfortunately, the real world isn't so accommodating. About 15 years ago, I had an ultrasound on my gallbladder, but it showed nothing conclusive. Six years or so later, I started a battery of tests that my doctor said he could do to eliminate causes one-by-one. First, an ultrasound on the gall bladder, next an upper GI test, then a laparoscopy to look at the esophagus and stomach lining. I don't know what would have come next. The first two didn't indicate any problem, but the laparoscopy revealed several ulcers, and my doctor decided these were probably the cause of all the pain. I told him how much I doubted that since for years I had been taking massive doses of Ibuprofen to kill the pain, which had likely caused the ulcers. He refused to keep working through the tests until the ulcers cleared up. I have to confess that I was fairly disgusted with him since he wouldn't listen to me, so I never went back. And of course, my pain continued. Since then, I have been eating massive amounts of peppermint candy after reading that it helps with digestion, particularly the muscles used in the process. I can usually get some relief from the pain, but it's often after four or five hours of sheer misery. I had given up on finding a cause and had self-diagnosed myself with IBS. Plus, I have cut so many foods from my diet. Now get this--drinking too much caffeine and/or eating fatty foods cause the most pain. Aha, you say. That sounds like a gallbladder problem. Uh-uh, I say. I've had at least two ultrasounds showing nothing wrong with my gallbladder. I had given up trying to get help. Until now.

My dad has had the problem for as long as I can remember, and like mine, his pain has increased over the years. Last week, he went to the ER for the second time in a month, and once again, after load of tests on almost every organ in his body, he left knowing no more than when he arrived. However, after running a high fever over the weekend, he went back to his doctor on Monday, still in quite a bit of pain, and his doc said to go back to the hospital, that he would call ahead and get my dad admitted. The doc recommended a surgeon who began the testing again. Thankfully, this guy was willing to look carefully at the gallbladder rather than pass it by for lack of info. He decided to do surgery very late on Tuesday. Turns out, Dad's gallbladder was inflamed with infection, swollen and full of gallstones so tiny that the doctor said it was like sifting through sand. The infection could have caused worse problems had it gone unnoticed. Yesterday, I asked one of his nurses why there weren't any better tests for the gallbladder. She explained that it was like looking into a deflated balloon--it's has a thin wall, but without the air, the wall isn't stretched enough to see inside. She also told me about a test that measured the activity of the gallbladder instead of the organ itself. She was surprised neither of us had even heard of it.

So I've decided to see if I can get that test done. If I could be rid of this plaguing pain, I would be willing to undergo surgery even though I said I would never have it again (I react violently to the anesthesia).

No telling what they'd find...

(Image is entitled "Hollyhock Seeds" and can be purchased from FoundDays at Etsy.)

PS--My dad is back at home and doing just fine! Thanks for asking.

Five, four, three, two, one...

Now that I am into a more reflective time of self-examination, I'm much more aware of how seemingly unrelated events cause the most revealing thoughts to pop into my brain. Oh, it may take a few days, but it happens. For example, while getting an acupuncture treatment two weeks ago, I was telling my chiropractor--aka my acupuncturist--that I felt hyped up and couldn't relax. I had been feeling like that for several weeks, and I was erroneously thinking it was just an elevated mood. Apparently, a recently increased dosage in one of my medications was sending my blood pressure into dangerous territory. I freaked out when I got my BP reading and read about the numbers, especially the word "crisis." Yikes. Spent that day and the next four--including a weekend, which is why I couldn't get in to see my internist sooner--being extremely cautious, including making the stupid decision to stop taking most of my medications. I've been fighting taking the Hormone Replacement drugs due to the increased risk of heart attacks and strokes, and most of the other meds have some mention of the same side effects. I debated going to the Emergency Room, but part of me thought that was overreacting. As it turns out, my decision was serendipitous. One of the other meds was the one that was causing the problem. My internist, whom I saw ASAP, lectured me in no uncertain terms that I might have caused a worse situation by quitting my meds cold-turkey and that I was very fortunate indeed and to call her no matter the time, day or night, if something like that ever happened again. Phew, she chewed me out! Once it was all over and I felt calmer, I suddenly remembered something the chiropractor said about my hyperactive, manic feeling--"You jump into everything feet first, full tilt and give it 150%. You don't hold anything back, and it wears you out to do that." Of course, he had no way of knowing that it was the meds causing the problem, but I've been a patient of his for the past two+ years, so he knows me fairly well. I started going to him when I needed treatment for a pinched nerve in my neck. I forget the correct medical term, but there isn't really a nerve being pinched, although that's exactly what it feels like. Anyway, I had always viewed my initial energetic ventures into jobs and projects as stemming from a caring attitude. I always want to do everything perfectly (as if!), and I really care about the people involved. I was surprised to think that the physical aspect could have had as much of an impact as the emotional one. I've always thought that the emotional stress caused the physical problems. Maybe the combined results of both is what always pulled me down into a pit. The most unfortunate outcome, regardless of the cause, is the way others reacted to my decline, not to mention my own guilt for not meeting my own expectations. For that reason, I've been reluctant over the past year to get involved with anyone on any level to keep from feeling the pain and hurt when I don't meet their expectations.

The thought that I could get involved in something without launching myself into it is my pop-upped thought of the week.

(Image is entitled "Rocket to the Moon" and is available from Etsy shop loriontdorr. Do you see it?)