A war begins. Ugh. My spouse owns a property I affectionately call 'The Shed'. It is a dilapidated and run down mess. The roof is collapsing, the wooden floor is warped and sagging, mice and roaches are the currents tenants.That is not the worse. My spouse is a collector (hoarder). It is full of bits and pieces, most not valuable. The benign sort of 'Wow, someone got rid of this! I can fix it up and sell/use this.' Time passes and the value that might of existed is drained away through neglect.
Tomorrow. I had a child out of wedlock. My parents made me (Then) give her up for adoption. The me (Now) would have not gone along so acquiescently. I remember avoiding the nursery since I knew she was not mine (Then). She was (Now). A few times I attempted to guess in which of the bassinets along the wall she lay. She started life in the back of the class. I should have asked to see her. She was of me, from me. Could-a, would-a, should-a.
The dilemma? I want to start a search. Unfortunately, the adoption was arranged in a 'closed records' state. I put contact info in her file years ago, but no strangers have knocked on the door. She is 37. Old enough to have unanswered questions. Maybe no one told her. What then?
As I have mentioned other times, I have poor memory. Perhaps it is a consequence of the fibromyalgia I struggle with most days. Perhaps it is a blessing from above to wake unhindered from past mistakes, regrets, and sorrows.
"Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door. --Saul Bellow
Ah-OOO ooo oooo oo. I can hear them howling. Insignificance panting on the horizon. Poor memory made me struggle to remember the birth father's name, a boyfriend my junior year of high school. After a few hours of Internet searching, I found him. Facebook. Duh. He recently moved back to the scene of the crime. Also opened that Facebook account. Serendipity. So what now? Do I contact him? To what end? I am searching my motive. Time enough in the tomorrows.
Today. The spouse had the follow up appointment for his edema. We never got the results. His complaints started shortly after we arrived. The customary bitching about the appointment time is merely a suggestion for the doctor. Okay. I agreed, but that is reality. It was bla-bla-bitch all the time in the examining room. After two hours he said outta here and off we go. On the ride home, he says he better not be charged for this visit. Like it is my job to fix that! He did wonder if I would have any repercussions from his actions. Nope, I am not the one acting like an ass. My coworkers know my character. It did amuse me when he ranted the doctor could now call him at home with the results. If only...
Yesterday. I miss waking daily to see my daughter and grandboy. My trip east was restorative. I felt real. I returned to the facade. I want to be there, not here. *Howl*
Saturday’s Child--by Countee Cullen
Some are teethed on a silver spoon,
With the stars strung for a rattle;
I cut my teeth as the black raccoon—
For implements of battle.
Some are swaddled in silk and down,
And heralded by a star;
They swathed my limbs in a sackcloth gown
On a night that was black as tar.
For some, godfather and goddame
The opulent fairies be;
Dame Poverty gave me my name,
And Pain godfathered me.
For I was born on Saturday—
“Bad time for planting a seed,”
Was all my father had to say,
And, “One mouth more to feed.”
Death cut the strings that gave me life,
And handed me to Sorrow,
The only kind of middle wife
My folks could beg or borrow.
I can't understand some patients. Friday, I take a call from the doctor's office requesting a STAT abdominal ultrasound. Unfortunately, Patient has eaten. When I explained I can schedule for next week, I get Doctor on the line. Suspected appendicitis. (Made me pissy, not one time did MA mention a diagnosis. Appendicitis = major buzz word and gets you all kind of free passes.) I know my job and food with an abdominal ultrasound usually does not get Patient in the door. Would Doctor like to order a CT? No, too much radiation? No problem. Let me talk to the department.
One ringy dingy. Radiologist did not feel 'comfortable' doing the ultrasound (he wanted a CT, bingo! Score one for me). Patient is sent home until Radiologist Dos returns from lunch in an hour. I got a contact number for Doctor and Patient. *Jeopardy theme*
Two ringy dingies. Radiologist Dos is agreeable to do ultrasound. I call Patient and a young man answers. Patient is shopping at Walmart with Aunt and did not take contact phone. OMG. I quickly regroup and hope I can find another contact number in Patient's account when I schedule the exam. I called Grandmother, got Aunt's phone number and yes, they are on their way. Whew *relief*.
One hour later--A call from Ultrasound Tech reminding me she leaves in 30 minutes. Do I know where Patient is? OMG! Another call. Patient went to get Mother. They will be here shortly.
Now two hours later--I take a call from Doctor's office. He has not received the report for his patient. OMG! Informed MA, Patient has not arrived. MA states it was made clear to Patient the severity of the situation, but she will tell Doctor.
Forty minutes later--Patient arrives. Ultrasound Tech will have to be called in on overtime. Patient, Patient's Boyfriend and Mother barely made it before Radiologist Dos left for the weekend. I tell myself to stay in my office because I have many choice words I could spew to the Patient and Mother. Don't waste my time. Don't waste your Doctor's. Don't receive special concessions for your sake and not appreciate them. What was so important at Walmart? I had to peek. Not one grimace of pain on Patient's face. Mother looked irritated. Boyfriend must be there to return cell phone. Save Money, Live Better.
Eat vegetables. Grow healthy. Become healed.
I watched a movie named "The Gerson Miracle". It examines many of the elements of the Gerson Therapy, explaining why we are so ill and how we have in our grasp the power to recover our health without expensive, toxic or mutilating treatments.
Could I overcome the pain and fatigue I live with daily?
The butterfly effect is the observation that an event as seemingly insignificant as the flapping of a butterfly's wings might create a huge storm in a distant place. It is sometimes applied to a small, almost imperceptible thing that can have a large and momentous consequence. The mayonnaise jar is a pivotal moment. His bursts of anger always leave me drained, gasping, and running for higher ground. The day will come when I keep running without looking back.
Dr. John Gottman, a psychologist at the University of Washington, studied more than 2,000 married couples over two decades. He discovered patterns about how partners relate to each other which can be used to predict – with 91% accuracy – which marriages will succeed and which will fail. The four attitudes that most predict the dissolution of a relationship, especially in combination, are criticism, defensiveness, contempt and stonewalling.
Before Jay Leno and David Letterman, the King of Late Night was Johnny Carson. He donned a turban and cloak and became Carnac the Magnificent. Ed McMahon would continue,
"No one knows the contents of these envelopes, but you, in your divine and mystical way, will ascertain the answers to these questions having never seen them before.
Carnac would hold a business size envelope to his forehead and give an answer. He’d then rip open the envelope and read the question. I can see him adding this to his routine.
Answer: Engagement ring, wedding ring, and suffering. Envelope ripping. Question: How is marriage like a three-ring circus?
Fletcher: The pen is blue, the pen is blue, the goddamn pen is blue!
My husband and I went out to eat tonight. I've been fortunate in having a spell of overtime, but it leaves me spent after eleven hour days. So off to the trough where I don't have to cook or clean up!
We stood in line behind a large group of teenagers accompanied by two or was it three adults? The adults could have been teachers or counselors leading the outing which included pigging out at an all you can eat buffet. The skinny one was off making arrangement with the manager. I heard snippets of the conversation about price and the offer of the party room for them. She returned and spoke quietly to the dark haired one waiting with the group. The cashier began to take their drink orders.
The dark haired one turned to the remainder sharing in a whisper, 'You are all twelve.' My brain went 'Huh?' Not with the breasts on some of those girls. A few looked confused, but quickly snapped to the scam. Some were affronted. They worked really, really hard to be fourteen. Others smiled at getting something for nothing. None objected.
I wanted to raise my hand. Hey, Skinnyocchio, a lie keeps growing and growing until it's as plain as the nose on your face. A pattern is being established tonight for a way of life. Lying is okay to meet your needs. Lie your way to a better life. Lying is normal. You can trust me. I told a lie for you.
*Takes deep breath* Work got difficult one day and stressed me to the max. I had a panic attack and felt totally freaked. Went to the doctor and bawled in the office. Was diagnosed with agoraphobia. Like duh. I don't feel safe unless I am home or with someone I know. Received a prescription for antidepressant and Valium. Took Valium as soon as the prescription was filled.
Oooo, really liked the Valium. Everything was mellow. Keep the Valium in my purse for emergencies. Started feeling better as antidepressant kicked in. Increased my progesterone to supplement GABA production in my brain.
Life is better. Spouse acting very nice. Perhaps he is a pod person? Then had to move our stuff next door so the landlords' could renovate our apartment. Good grief, what a production moving the Smithsonian. Spouse attempted to move it in slow stages. Landlords' finally gave three day deadline. Huff, huff, tote that barge, move that bale. And to think I did give a heads up to the landlords' in December my spouse would need a deadline. I got swept up in the whirlwind. The apartment will look really good when it gets finished. Not, so very not, looking forward to the move back.
Started my Etsy business. Having a blast learning that. Attempting to sew on the weekends. Ordered lots of fun fabric. I found I still need lots more choices. Playing games on Facebook. It got really cold here. My 'Check Engine Light' came on. I suspect because the young man overfilled my gas tank. It has since gone out. Fatigue is a continuing problem. I started Adkins the beginning of February. Lost 7 lbs so far. Amazing for me-the carboholic. This is my extra stress week at work, once every four weeks. I took a Valium today. I miss my blog.
I am strung out and wrung out. I had an anxiety attack at work because the most hated words in the English language are '...and other duties as assigned'.
I made a lateral move at work because what I had been doing for three years was becoming increasingly stressful. I could no longer deal one-on-one with the public. Nothing with a face across from me ever again. A constant barrage of dealing with problems, personalities, and expectations drained me. In my new position, I have an office with a door. I close it when the ambient face noise begins to jar my nerves. I deal with a few outside offices by phone. Most of my work arrives electronically. I am safe in my little office cocoon. I can take mental breaks as needed; get up, move around, surf the net, or visit my coworker to consult on some issue.
Not today. I had to fill the old position. A constant stream of strangers in and out of my office for-eight-straight-hours as I prepared their paperwork. Sign here. Make copies. Separate. Shuffle and staple. Give directions. Thank you for coming. Keep moving because people with faces are waiting. One was a woman with four small children, one of whom climbed on my chair, pulled my mouse cord, used an OUTSIDE voice with her sister, all the while her baby sister was crying.
Several did not speak English. One even stared at me to the point I was freaked out. My phone rang off the hook. I couldn't answer because I was not available to take care of their needs. Messages I could not retrieve are piled up for tomorrow. I broke down and cried. I don't want the old job, but the hated words in my job description allow my boss to assign as she pleases.
My brain is frozen. I don't function in the wintry dark and cold. Seasonal Affective Disorder. I was doing fine until I dared the Universe. The Equinox came and went with no symptoms. The winter had been very mild up to then and I was now on the flip side. I had to speak aloud how well I was doing. This dark season was going to be 'eeeeasy'.
Two days later, well, we have this here entry called Braincicles. I drag myself up at six each morning and claw my way into work. Forgetful. No concentration. Higher levels of anxiety. Need a granny nap in the afternoon. Must..try...to...function. Unfortunately, I'm addicted to eating and hot water so I must go on. I'm so cold...Jack, hold me...
Rose: I love you, Jack.
Jack: Don't you do that, don't say your good-byes. Not yet, do you understand me?
Rose: I'm so cold.
Jack: Listen, Rose. You're gonna get out of here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady warm in her bed, not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?
Rose: I can't feel my body.
Jack: Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me... it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.
Rose: I promise.
Jack: Never let go.
Rose: I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go.
I'll not give up. I want to die an old lady with the warmth of the sun on my face. My heart will go on. I wonder what do people do who live above the 33rd parallel?
I had to write a 'bio' for my Etsy page. I have read others--college degrees, design school, Hollywood, years of experience in the fashion industry--sheesh, a bit intimidating. So being me, I improvised. Here it is.
"If I was a Sotheby's catalog listing: A sure to delight 1950s vintage woman. Genuine product of dedicated American craftsmanship. Excellent condition. The signs of her years of service have been preserved. Decorative smile lines enhance the mouth and eyes. Artistic bent gathered from time spent in world travel. Quirky grain running throughout makes a very bold and imaginative statement. Comes equipped with a needle and the desire to please.
There you have it. Me, the bio, a vintage woman looking for serenity in a bit of felt. Find time each day to see beauty and love in the world around you. Close your eyes and open your heart. When love is flowing, serenity is found. I hope you find something here to love.
I think it suits. Quintessentially quirky.
I made a decision. Good or bad, I don’t know, but it felt right. I am staying in my marriage. He said something to me that caused me to re-evaluate my expectations. To me, marriage is a partnership of common goals and ideals. I picture it as a pioneer couple on the frontier. Each may have duties, but the goal is to carve out a homestead. At the end of a life, there is proof positive of things accomplished, tangible things left behind, a mark on the face of the planet.
When I expected him to fulfill his duties like cut the wood, haul the water and hunt a critter duties, I got disappointed. I isolated myself, which I know is a poor coping skill. Hiding does not help with reaching a goal like happiness. I can’t remember the words said. I have had memory problems ever since I was a child. I can recall the emotion of the words. It was an ‘Oh’ moment. Oh, I need to find my own happiness because you are not my pioneering partner. Oh, I can do that. Oh, I will do this instead. Oh, I feel empowered. I have found an outlet for the creative-accomplishing-tangible-things-left-behind need. I have been setting up an Etsy business. I have always, always wanted to own a business and work from home. So there it is--a New Year's revolution. Find happiness, not outside my marriage, but inside myself.
