So shoot me...

Well, my family vacation was a bust. More on that later. The head doctor who has been treating me for about ten years retired recently. I have seen the doctor who she recommended one time, but I really didn't click with her. The old doc was low key, wore her medical jacket and did not ask me to talk. The new one looks like a glamour girl, all matchy-matchy with really red lipstick and said she couldn't help me if I didn't want to talk. Sheesh. I couldn't help it that I didn't want to talk. It was a bad day. What's the point in seeing her if she can't deal with my bad days? So, I'm in the process of trying to decide if I need to find a new doctor. The determining factor may be my insurance, which is surely the most stupid thing ever invented. Pay a boat-load of money for something that doesn't pay for mental health stuff. Sure, have a real illness like high blood pressure or diabetes and only pay a small co-payment. Period. Like $20. And yes, I do get my medications at substantial savings, but it's a shame that the insurance companies don't consider mental health an issue. Never mind that over half of the population is being treated for some kind of mental health problem. And I have mixed feelings about national health care. Another thing to address later. But really, I'm pretty frustrated right now with the whole system.

Wouldn't it be better to make it easier for people to be treated for their mental health than to wait until they go off the deep end and start shooting?

(Image used is by one of my favorite Etsy artists, Margaux of TheBlackSpotBooks. She makes the most amazing tiny, usable books, then creates jewelry with them. She also has some haunting photography. This is one of those, entitled "The Falling and The Gathering of the Leaves III." When she was a featured artist, I learned that she lives in a mid-1800s home that once belonged to a bootlegger; she "romps" around the world with her husband and son; she used to wake up before dawn and ask her brother "Do you want to make stuff?"; she and her husband mapped out a plan to live at sea (which she loves, by the way), and they dream of "making things whilst out in the water and visiting the world from the inside out." Wouldn't we all love to be in this woman's world?)

(PS--I couldn't bring myself to post an actual "gun" or "shooting" photo although there are many from which to choose. There's already way too much violence in the world to promote it.)

A good time was had by most...

I'm heading off to the beach tomorrow for our annual family vacation. Everyone else made it there on Monday. I tried to go earlier this week as well but couldn't do it. I had a difficult time with my family ten or eleven years ago. The result was that I was unable to see them or talk to them for over two years. I still have a lot of trouble with extended time together. I don't remember if I've ever given any of the details in this journal, but I won't go into them now.

If I do, I might change my mind and not go at all.

(Image used is entitled "Vacation" and is a photograph taken at the beach where I am going. It's by PaulettePhotography and is just one of the many pictures she's taken where she lives in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. She has a lot of amazing animal photos, too.)

Slowly but surely...

Okay, I don't know who I was kidding, but I really haven't been able to start everything in my "better health plan" this week. I've made several changes, but all of them? No way. I guess I'm going into it gradually since that's what my brain seems to be doing. Some things have been easy to change, and those are the ones I've started on. Why do I always save the hardest for last?? The good news is that I am trying! I lied when I told my doctor I could do it all this week, but she said I should be able to do it all this week. Who was she kidding?

I can only change a few pieces of me at a time...

(Image by OutsideTheBoxArt at Etsy entitled "Funky Face.")

Let it ring...

In gratitude to all men and women of any nation who have fought or who continue to fight for freedom.

In memory of those who gave their lives in the fight for freedom, as well as the many who were casualties of war.

In recognition of those who have lost a loved one in a war and those who wait for loved ones to come home from war.

Freedom comes at a great cost. We who live in freedom can never say thank you enough.

(Image is from the blog Something Sublime.)

Time to stop running and start running...

Went to a new doctor today. I've had a family doctor for general stuff, but my ob/gyn had told me that I should see an internist. I never really knew that an internist was like a family doctor, only better. Someone who looks at the big picture, not just the pieces. My ob/gyn gave me a recommendation, and I took her advice. Turns out this doctor is really good. She was so nice and took extra time with me. That doesn't happen much these days. I have two pages of notes that she wrote to remind/tell me what I need to do. I already knew most of it--better diet, more exercise, etc., but she gave me some very specific instructions. My recent blood work indicated that my cholesterol was up from last time, which is why I went to this new doc in the first place. Even though I knew I needed to take better care of myself, I wasn't doing it. Now, I have someone to answer to, and that's a good motivator.

Plus, I'm ready to start making changes...

[Image used is entitled "Time is a Runaway." It is by RLDesign, who unfortunately doesn't have anything in her Etsy shop anymore. She had several listings, all of which used parts of dress forms. Her creations were wall-mounted sculptures. It may not be evident at first glance, but this is/may be a working clock. Look on the right breast to find the clock hands. It also says the following (read from upper left to below the clock to lower left): "They say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." More good advice.]

Don't mess with me...

I can hardly believe that May is almost over. Most of April and May were taken over by everything related to refinancing. It really did take two months to complete the process. The initial contact to get the ball rolling was on March 25th, followed by the cleaning spree and then finally the fiasco of waiting on the bank to fix a 20 year-old error. Phew. Done. Over. Let's move on.

So now I'm back to reading a lot about hormones and menopause and about stress and how it affects aging and hormones. I think I may have said several times how confusing the whole menopausal phase is when no one talks about it. One author notes that it wasn't so very long ago that women were sent to sanatoriums because of the symptoms of nervousness, sleeplessness, irritability, and "a tendency to cause trouble"!! (Yeah, I would definitely be in a sanatorium.) To even speak of it was to risk being placed in a institution because if a woman knew about then it she must be experiencing it, and it was considered a dangerous time of life. (Dangerous to anyone around a menopausal woman, that is.) Thus, very little information was handed down. Hysteria was once considered a medical disorder diagnosed only in women. The word uterus derived from the Greek work for hysteria. Go figure. Plato discussed the problem of the "wandering uterus" creating havoc as it moved through the body. (I might buy that since I experience quite a bit of havoc inside.) However, by the mid-19th century, it was generally thought that hysteria "stemmed from sexual dissatisfaction," and several methods of treatment would result in "hysterical paroxysm," now better known as an orgasm. Huh. (Strangely, my doctor, a woman, has never mentioned this as a possible treatment for me.) Now get this. Treatment was tedious to physicians (who were always male) who tired of manual vaginal massage. Awww. (I think tedium must be the male equivalent of hysteria. Tedious males should have been put in institutions. Makes me wonder why their hands got so tired anyway.) It wasn't too long before massage devices were invented so those poor old doctors wouldn't get tedium. In the mid-19th century, a "hydrotherapy" device was available at bathing resorts. People used to go to these resorts to bathe in the waters, usually considered to having healing properties. Hugely popular. Now we know why. "By 1870, a clockwork-driven vibrator was available for physicians." (I wonder how long they set it for. Ten minutes? Two minutes?) "In 1873, the first electromechanical vibrator was used at an asylum in France for the treatment of hysteria." Catch that? Used at an "asylum"? Well, that is where we all were sent when we got hysterical. Thank goodness I didn't live back then. I probably would have been sent to the asylum when I was 12 and would have been placed in the hands of a doctor who treated his patients with vibrating electrodes attached at the temples. No paroxysms for me.

Seriously, all of this is just interesting to me when I think about how people view symptoms of stress and menopause now. I don't think much has changed except that we no longer are thrown into those sanatoriums. No, we are expected just to keep pushing ourselves harder and keep working a job while also doing all the work at home. We aren't supposed to think of ourselves, we should say yes to anything asked of us and feel deeply guilty should we ever consider saying no. If we are moody or irritable, just stuff it. And never, ever say that we're too tired. (The sanatorium is sounding better all the time.)

I'm also beginning to think there might have been something to Plato's ideas because something has definitely moved in to increase the size of my upper abdomen. It makes me feel like I am full all the time. Sitting makes me much more aware of it. I've always had a bit of a lower belly, but now the upper as well?

Makes me want to get into a hysterical fight with a tedious man.

(Image used is a pastel and pencil drawing entitled "Mood Swing" and is by orbisdeo at Etsy. The information on the histroy of hysteria was found at Wikipedia.)

Just breathe...

My rant and rave on Monday was apparently based on some serious anxiety because before the day ended I felt the beginning of an allergy attack. I woke up yesterday with rosacea and hives all over my face. Itchy and blotchy red spots that could drive a person mad if she weren't already. I have two creams that I use to combat them, so I slathered up yesterday and again this morning. I have to use the creams about four times a day, and it will take two or three days for things to settle down.

And I actually have settled down from the distress. Part of that might be the combination of the anti-anxiety meds plus the benedryl making me woozy. Woosie? Maybe it's not even a word. Maybe I got all stressed because of going out two days in a row. I have no idea.

It's all I can do some days just to remember to breathe.

(Images used today are wood blocks with "Inhale" and "Exhale" on them and are by homeshanti at Etsy.)