I don't want to work today. This is what happens when I have to work on the weekend. Monday comes and I'm not ready. I'm tired. I'm cold. I have an early meeting followed by a boring phone conference and then negotiations for my new job. (That I dread a lot; I hate that part). This means less visits get done. And then this week is nuts anyway because I'm watching my mom's dogs Thursday and Friday, so I'll be running like crazy those days. I ordered some shoes through Zappos that for some reason came as signature required so I have to make sure I leave work exactly on time Thursday to hit UPS to sign, but I have to first stop and let the dogs out, and then go see Dr. Mind, so I won't be home until 9 or so and then Friday I have to get home as soon as I can to let the dogs out again. Saturday I go to see Dr. Brain, which is an all day thing. Then I'll have Sunday to rest. The following weekend I'll be gone all weekend at a training. So I am going into today knowing it's the beginning of a long spell of being tired.
But that's ok. I'll live and eventually I'll wake up enough to not be grumpy. Don't know why I woke up grumpy today but I did, even at 4. I made myself sleep more and still grumpy.
OK, time to see if I can avoid ironing.
Monday, October 04, 2010
Sunday, October 03, 2010
Update on my body
Along with bipolar there of course is a physical body here. And in this case we have a physical body that is pretty clearly starting perimenopause. My mom was my age when it started. My doctor thought it was rare and that it was more likely endometriosis since my pain issues would prevent me from acknowledging pain easily. I've been tracking and it's very clearly hormonal. I had put off my gynecologist appt. to assess this until February; depending on how time off works with my new job I may move it up as the pattern is clear. My periods are getting LOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGG, starting to eat up a week or more plus another week to 10 days of PMS. They are heavier than I've ever experienced. I have cramps and even pimples for the first time ever. And I have a serious carbohydrate craving issue. I also crave milk like crazy, drinking at least a gallon a week and very often 2 pints just in the morning. That doesn't bother me, but it is weird.
So that's the next fun step of my life. Yippee.
So that's the next fun step of my life. Yippee.
I did it
One I'm sorry email sent, to my sister. Many more to go. I only cried a little. Maybe I really am ready for this? Who knows.
Responses to comments
Each comment I've gotten so far from yesterday's post deserves a response. So here they are. And thank you. I arrived home tonight realizing I am ready to apologize to my sister. Not who I thought would be first, but she has forgiven me enough that today I was one of the very first people to ever get a giggle from my niece. Most awesome feeling ever. So I'm going to start that tonight or tomorrow.
Anyway, in the order they are listed:
WinnyNinnyPoo-
I do feel safe. Strangely so. Dr. Mind was very wary when I wanted to do this now, as the usual plan is to provide some adjustment time after an episode and then move gradually into something hard. So he was quite surprised to hear I felt fine after the first session on this, and while the 2nd was harder and more tearful, I came home and slept like the dead, which has ONLY happened when I was really medicated lately. I think I felt such weight lifted just going near this that instead of the upset he expects I just feel relief. I think this stuff has been waiting to turn into words for a very long time, and yet it took precisely the wrong hurt and the precise dose of anger at my mother for it to cohere enough to become words.
Michal-
Thank you for the perfect verse. There was a time many years ago, about 18 months before I was diagnosed with bipolar and still thought I had severe depression that I could not stop crying. I could make it through work, but then the tears were in control. At that time I thought crying was wrong and a friend spent a lot of time trying to Biblically prove that it was ok to cry. I remember during that he finally made me read the story of Elijiah and how when he was emotionally worn down God himself made him eat, rest and then try again. The story made such an impression that I named my next kitten Elijiah as a reminder that God says the way to handle depression is to take care of yourself (which in my case included having an Elijiah). You have just handed me the verse to help me feel strong during a time that feels very weak. I have told you I can't memorize verses, but I will write this out and keep it with me during this experience.
Learp17-
Welcome and thank you for taking an interest in a subject most people want to avoid. I wish more people would get interested and learn because so many people have mental illness and so often people don't realize this and adopt an us/them mentality that is often the worst part of the whole experience. Thank you also for knowing about child abuse and not avoiding it as "icky". I can't imagine what it is like to be a parent and look at your own child and imagine them in that situation.I think that one thing that is very helpful with abuse though (as well as detrimental) is that it is often all you know of childhood. At least for me that's true. There's no "before and after" like so many bad memories we gather during our lives. Abuse is a terrible thing and I wish that as a society we worked harder to prevent it. If you read more you'll eventually know that I grew up in a small town where virtually everyone knew what was happening in our home and while there were calls to child protective that went nowhere (because my already assigned caseworker would like to protect her friend my mother) and there were the coaches who protected me quite a bit, but that was about it.
And yes, my father's girlfriend and I were in school together. He was a teacher/pedophile (this story will make you want to remove your children from public circulation) who we believe molested various girls over the years.Somehow this one first he started with all this special treatment, gradually brought her to our home more and more, ignored the rest of us (including my mother) in favor of her and would become unhinged if his time with her was disrupted. He got sick with MS soon after this and the school board pushed his disability retirement through the system rather than deal with the legal mess and publicity. This was at a time cases like this were huge national news because of a few cases that I don't remember adequate information to name right now. Eventually she moved in with us and he had an affair (if you can call it that when the 2nd woman isn't even a woman yet, she's 15 or 16 year old) in the basement while the rest of us functioned upstairs. So she and I went to school together; she was 2 grades ahead. It was not good. At all. He was even more physically (and obviously sexually and emotionally) abusive to her than the rest of us, which is saying something. Later on when I was in college my parents divorced, he married his girlfriend, they had a baby when I was about 21 and then she realized what he had done/was doing and left. A messy divorce where his visitation status was all over the charts occurred and by the end all parental rights were terminated. After that eventually I lost tough and my brother will be 14 next month and I will not have seen him in 10 years.
My life is not typical, praise God, but it is also not boring......That's probably the craziest true story you'll read for a while......I hope anyway because it was a very hard life.
and that's the nutshell version.
Everyone-
I know this gets confusing, there are just so many factors involved. Please feel free to ask anything. If I don't want to answer I won't (don't see that as likely ) but am going to be talking about stuff that is confusing if you haven't had time to read 1200 plus posts written by someone who tends to be long-winded and sometimes makes no sense, and even then some of the posts with explanations felt too detailed and were removed. And I have no clue where to link for explanations; tags would be nice but let's face it, tagging 1200 posts takes time and I have a 3 hour commute daily. However, I'm planning to have my ankle operated on in 2 years and when I do that I'll have about 12 weeks of sitting at home, so that's on the list of things that might help keep me sane. But I don't mind. My past hurts, but not because someone asks. It's not like you are reminding me of something I'd forgotten, and if you do that's probably a good thing. It is through comments on this blog that I'm really able to start doing this project, and that's an awesome thing.
Anyway, in the order they are listed:
WinnyNinnyPoo-
I do feel safe. Strangely so. Dr. Mind was very wary when I wanted to do this now, as the usual plan is to provide some adjustment time after an episode and then move gradually into something hard. So he was quite surprised to hear I felt fine after the first session on this, and while the 2nd was harder and more tearful, I came home and slept like the dead, which has ONLY happened when I was really medicated lately. I think I felt such weight lifted just going near this that instead of the upset he expects I just feel relief. I think this stuff has been waiting to turn into words for a very long time, and yet it took precisely the wrong hurt and the precise dose of anger at my mother for it to cohere enough to become words.
Michal-
Thank you for the perfect verse. There was a time many years ago, about 18 months before I was diagnosed with bipolar and still thought I had severe depression that I could not stop crying. I could make it through work, but then the tears were in control. At that time I thought crying was wrong and a friend spent a lot of time trying to Biblically prove that it was ok to cry. I remember during that he finally made me read the story of Elijiah and how when he was emotionally worn down God himself made him eat, rest and then try again. The story made such an impression that I named my next kitten Elijiah as a reminder that God says the way to handle depression is to take care of yourself (which in my case included having an Elijiah). You have just handed me the verse to help me feel strong during a time that feels very weak. I have told you I can't memorize verses, but I will write this out and keep it with me during this experience.
Learp17-
Welcome and thank you for taking an interest in a subject most people want to avoid. I wish more people would get interested and learn because so many people have mental illness and so often people don't realize this and adopt an us/them mentality that is often the worst part of the whole experience. Thank you also for knowing about child abuse and not avoiding it as "icky". I can't imagine what it is like to be a parent and look at your own child and imagine them in that situation.I think that one thing that is very helpful with abuse though (as well as detrimental) is that it is often all you know of childhood. At least for me that's true. There's no "before and after" like so many bad memories we gather during our lives. Abuse is a terrible thing and I wish that as a society we worked harder to prevent it. If you read more you'll eventually know that I grew up in a small town where virtually everyone knew what was happening in our home and while there were calls to child protective that went nowhere (because my already assigned caseworker would like to protect her friend my mother) and there were the coaches who protected me quite a bit, but that was about it.
And yes, my father's girlfriend and I were in school together. He was a teacher/pedophile (this story will make you want to remove your children from public circulation) who we believe molested various girls over the years.Somehow this one first he started with all this special treatment, gradually brought her to our home more and more, ignored the rest of us (including my mother) in favor of her and would become unhinged if his time with her was disrupted. He got sick with MS soon after this and the school board pushed his disability retirement through the system rather than deal with the legal mess and publicity. This was at a time cases like this were huge national news because of a few cases that I don't remember adequate information to name right now. Eventually she moved in with us and he had an affair (if you can call it that when the 2nd woman isn't even a woman yet, she's 15 or 16 year old) in the basement while the rest of us functioned upstairs. So she and I went to school together; she was 2 grades ahead. It was not good. At all. He was even more physically (and obviously sexually and emotionally) abusive to her than the rest of us, which is saying something. Later on when I was in college my parents divorced, he married his girlfriend, they had a baby when I was about 21 and then she realized what he had done/was doing and left. A messy divorce where his visitation status was all over the charts occurred and by the end all parental rights were terminated. After that eventually I lost tough and my brother will be 14 next month and I will not have seen him in 10 years.
My life is not typical, praise God, but it is also not boring......That's probably the craziest true story you'll read for a while......I hope anyway because it was a very hard life.
and that's the nutshell version.
Everyone-
I know this gets confusing, there are just so many factors involved. Please feel free to ask anything. If I don't want to answer I won't (don't see that as likely ) but am going to be talking about stuff that is confusing if you haven't had time to read 1200 plus posts written by someone who tends to be long-winded and sometimes makes no sense, and even then some of the posts with explanations felt too detailed and were removed. And I have no clue where to link for explanations; tags would be nice but let's face it, tagging 1200 posts takes time and I have a 3 hour commute daily. However, I'm planning to have my ankle operated on in 2 years and when I do that I'll have about 12 weeks of sitting at home, so that's on the list of things that might help keep me sane. But I don't mind. My past hurts, but not because someone asks. It's not like you are reminding me of something I'd forgotten, and if you do that's probably a good thing. It is through comments on this blog that I'm really able to start doing this project, and that's an awesome thing.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Here goes nothing
There's been a bit of a build-up on this blog to my newest adventure in learning to overcome mental illness/child abuse. That's because it feels like the hardest topic ever. Basically I have to learn to let go of my anger, both at people who I felt hurt by when they walked away from me because I was hateful and scary (but didn't understand that), and at my parents and grandparents, especially my mother, for the things that happened to me and how she has handled my illness.
The thing is that anger scares me. I am afraid of people being angry with me. I've spent most of my life trying to avoid that. I think the defining moment on why that is so true is a story I've told part of but not all of. Really to anyone. When I was 15 I ran track. We didn't have a track that was full-sized so we had no home meets except this one little practice meet with the boarding school up the hill and some other tiny school that didn't have a real track. I only actually got to run one year thanks to the ankle fracture/destroyed knee incident, and since I was a cross country runner and ran long distances regularly throughout the year I was one of the 2 mile runners. The other one on our team with my father's girlfriend, although she ran shorter distances than I did (and therefore could sprint better). I ran that race in the lead. I was determined to just once in my life beat her. At the end she sprinted in front. I ran as hard as I could for the last 1/4 mile and she won by about 2 steps. In the meantime I, who never ran that fast, had hyperventilated because there wasn't enough air. I was terrified and crying and gasping and the coach was walking me around, talking me through breathing slowly. I'd about half recovered when my father charged down through all the athletes, coaches, and officials and began screaming at me about what a horrible loser I was and what he was going to do to me and a lot more I don't remember. The coach, who was awesome and big, merely grabbed my arm and walked away with me. I have no memory of the walk to the school and if my father followed; I believe other coaches restrained him. In the school I was locked in a safe room (no windows), given water, allowed to cry, and I think another coach came in with me while the big one went and basically threatened my father's life if he touched me or ever acted like that again. Again, I do not know details.
I do know that I was still so scared because I knew the ride home would be horrible. We had a black minivan and he forced me to sit where he could see and reach me and we'll abbreviate the 20 some minute ride to "it was abusive and terrifying and threatening" and I lied to everyone the next day when they asked. I also adopted a new hairstyle to hide my black eye. I think that was the time that happened. Or one of them. Who knows, I knew a lot of tricks to cover or lie about injuries, although most of them weren't easily visible.
That, to me, is anger. Anger also is the dark, deep uncontrolled horribleness that made me tell people I love that I hate them, that made me accuse people of horrible things (anger let my paranoia have a voice), that made me an awful customer because I was so horribly rude and demanding and insistent I was right no matter what. Anger is the feeling that I had when I used to assume people who care about me were going to some day immediately hate me and that every tiny mistake they made meant they hated me. Anger is me doing things I'm horribly ashamed of, including hitting my sister when I was way, way too old to do that.
Anger also is what has led me to spend years thinking I was the wronged party when people moved themselves away from me, when really I probably did or said something awful. I've spent so many years being so angry with most of the people I care about, for rational or irrational reasons. I just didn't have the ability to see how I could hurt people much worse than I thought they were hurting me.
But now I do. And so I am starting to face my feelings about anger and starting to apologize to some of the people who really deserve it. I'm not sure how, and it's very hard to apologize when I know only that something happened which caused change and it is 99% likely that I caused it and have no memory of it and that it seemed perfectly right at the time.
During the years I hurt people so often I remember this one person was supposed to call me to explain something that was affecting our relationship. There was an emergency and the call wasn't made. Rather than think "this is someone who cares about me and something has happened" I sent an email of horrible accusations, fury, and an overall statement that this person clearly had never cared and had just been lying to me like everyone else and that just like my whole life caring was just fake and I could be thrown aside wtihout thought. When we spoke the next day I begged my friend to not read that email. I will never, ever forget the hurt in his voice when he told me he already had.
I've done some horrible things because of my illness and it's only now I'm ready to take responsibility for that. I am not going to find everyone I've ever hurt, this is not AA, but it is something I have to do to make what I've done seem less horrible, which then maybe lets me deal with the even deeper anger.
Regardless, I am afraid and I feel so uncertain how to do this. It's just frightening and yet so necessary.
There's a lot more involved in this and I'll get to that tomorrow or Sunday. Tomorrow I have to work for a few hours and then I'm going to go get some baby snuggles in. So I don't know how I'll feel when I get home.
I do know that I cut my seroquel dose tonight because I overslept this morning because I"m worn out emotionally after that session with Dr. Mind and it is working like it is supposed to. So maybe I can get off the sky high dose soon.
The thing is that anger scares me. I am afraid of people being angry with me. I've spent most of my life trying to avoid that. I think the defining moment on why that is so true is a story I've told part of but not all of. Really to anyone. When I was 15 I ran track. We didn't have a track that was full-sized so we had no home meets except this one little practice meet with the boarding school up the hill and some other tiny school that didn't have a real track. I only actually got to run one year thanks to the ankle fracture/destroyed knee incident, and since I was a cross country runner and ran long distances regularly throughout the year I was one of the 2 mile runners. The other one on our team with my father's girlfriend, although she ran shorter distances than I did (and therefore could sprint better). I ran that race in the lead. I was determined to just once in my life beat her. At the end she sprinted in front. I ran as hard as I could for the last 1/4 mile and she won by about 2 steps. In the meantime I, who never ran that fast, had hyperventilated because there wasn't enough air. I was terrified and crying and gasping and the coach was walking me around, talking me through breathing slowly. I'd about half recovered when my father charged down through all the athletes, coaches, and officials and began screaming at me about what a horrible loser I was and what he was going to do to me and a lot more I don't remember. The coach, who was awesome and big, merely grabbed my arm and walked away with me. I have no memory of the walk to the school and if my father followed; I believe other coaches restrained him. In the school I was locked in a safe room (no windows), given water, allowed to cry, and I think another coach came in with me while the big one went and basically threatened my father's life if he touched me or ever acted like that again. Again, I do not know details.
I do know that I was still so scared because I knew the ride home would be horrible. We had a black minivan and he forced me to sit where he could see and reach me and we'll abbreviate the 20 some minute ride to "it was abusive and terrifying and threatening" and I lied to everyone the next day when they asked. I also adopted a new hairstyle to hide my black eye. I think that was the time that happened. Or one of them. Who knows, I knew a lot of tricks to cover or lie about injuries, although most of them weren't easily visible.
That, to me, is anger. Anger also is the dark, deep uncontrolled horribleness that made me tell people I love that I hate them, that made me accuse people of horrible things (anger let my paranoia have a voice), that made me an awful customer because I was so horribly rude and demanding and insistent I was right no matter what. Anger is the feeling that I had when I used to assume people who care about me were going to some day immediately hate me and that every tiny mistake they made meant they hated me. Anger is me doing things I'm horribly ashamed of, including hitting my sister when I was way, way too old to do that.
Anger also is what has led me to spend years thinking I was the wronged party when people moved themselves away from me, when really I probably did or said something awful. I've spent so many years being so angry with most of the people I care about, for rational or irrational reasons. I just didn't have the ability to see how I could hurt people much worse than I thought they were hurting me.
But now I do. And so I am starting to face my feelings about anger and starting to apologize to some of the people who really deserve it. I'm not sure how, and it's very hard to apologize when I know only that something happened which caused change and it is 99% likely that I caused it and have no memory of it and that it seemed perfectly right at the time.
During the years I hurt people so often I remember this one person was supposed to call me to explain something that was affecting our relationship. There was an emergency and the call wasn't made. Rather than think "this is someone who cares about me and something has happened" I sent an email of horrible accusations, fury, and an overall statement that this person clearly had never cared and had just been lying to me like everyone else and that just like my whole life caring was just fake and I could be thrown aside wtihout thought. When we spoke the next day I begged my friend to not read that email. I will never, ever forget the hurt in his voice when he told me he already had.
I've done some horrible things because of my illness and it's only now I'm ready to take responsibility for that. I am not going to find everyone I've ever hurt, this is not AA, but it is something I have to do to make what I've done seem less horrible, which then maybe lets me deal with the even deeper anger.
Regardless, I am afraid and I feel so uncertain how to do this. It's just frightening and yet so necessary.
There's a lot more involved in this and I'll get to that tomorrow or Sunday. Tomorrow I have to work for a few hours and then I'm going to go get some baby snuggles in. So I don't know how I'll feel when I get home.
I do know that I cut my seroquel dose tonight because I overslept this morning because I"m worn out emotionally after that session with Dr. Mind and it is working like it is supposed to. So maybe I can get off the sky high dose soon.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Here we go
This week hasn't been that bad really, yet I've not written much. It all has to do with dreading tomorrow. Tomorrow is trial by fire day for me.
I grind my teeth. Then I break them. I have a bite guard but I can't wear it all the time depending on how gaggy I am. The joke at my dentist's office is that I get a crown a year. About 15 years ago when I was a camp counselor an autistic child who was agitated from noise made a beeline for a more open area and was running while raising his hands to his ears. He ran smack into me and his rising arms hit under my chin, slamming my mouth shut and breaking the top off my tooth. My dental practice at the time was a father/son deal. The son was great, I loved him. The father was a bit beyond where he should have been practicing. I know that because each time a tooth breaks and they get inside they find a messed up filling. Most of my fillings have been replaced or crowned now so hopefully this will let up, but he repaired the broken tooth. He slapped some bonding on it and called it done. Fast forward to this year and I broke the bonding off, probably grinding. I went to the dentist expecting to get it re-bonded but he just smoothed it off and said bonding wouldn't work because the tooth was essentially shattered, and that it would gradually crumble and I'd need a crown. Within 3 weeks of this prediction I woke up with my lip shredded because the tooth broke more and had a sharp edge. So tomorrow is the crown, at least part one of it. I also have this odd feeling he said something about a root canal, but I'm hoping I made that up.
I painfully put aside the $500 co-pay (money that I could use elsewhere in the great debt resolution 2010, plus I need new shoes. Mine hurt. A lot. Apparently I'm going wear shoes out really fast until my ankle is fixed. Yippee.) And tomorrow I'll go and medicate myself for the anxiety, keeping the remainder of what Dr. Brain said I could take where others can access it. They'll go through their whole routine of making everything the same and making sure I'm as comfortable and relaxed as possible, they'll numb me (with extra shots because I can't have regular numbing with the MAOI) and then let me sit for quite a while until I am extremely numb, and then I'll have to deal with horrible sounds, fighting gagging, holding still when someone messes with me, etc. I know the dentist isn't holding me down, but it is similar. And the whole time I sit there I know that he knows that it is highly likely not only sexually abused but that oral sex was part of what happened to me. Because people who act like I do are likely to have that history. I found that out accidentally, had it confirmed by Dr. Mind who said that the only thing he really knew before he was given the great list of things that happened to me was that this was likely, and while they are wonderful and so kind, it is emotionally so hard to have my face messed with and not be able to move.
So tomorrow isn't much fun.
I've also been working hard on figuring out what to negotiate for on Friday. Which is scary as I hate negotiating, yet I also am taking a humongous pay cut no matter what (unless they are insanely generous) and so I have all kinds of data and reasoning, and I'm nervous about it.
Today I left before dawn and got home just after the sun set.I did go to the fabric store for a few minutes, but such a long, long day. I still have 30 minutes of paperwork I'm avoiding. Tomorrow I'll undoubtedly rest a lot, and then I see Dr. Mind in the evening unless I'm hurting too much. However, i really need to see the billing person as my stupid insurance has now marked all claims for therapy for the whole year rejected. Which is a HUGE amount of money that I wouldn't have minded paying visit to visit, but in a lump sum it's a lot to handle. We spent literally months trying to get them to understand they were paying what they shouldn't (they paid in-network when Dr. Mind isn't) and eventually gave up. I suspect they've now discovered the mistake and are demanding the $ back.
I have to finish those notes now. I'm going to be sleepy very soon.
More tomorrow unless I'm too high on Vicodin.
I grind my teeth. Then I break them. I have a bite guard but I can't wear it all the time depending on how gaggy I am. The joke at my dentist's office is that I get a crown a year. About 15 years ago when I was a camp counselor an autistic child who was agitated from noise made a beeline for a more open area and was running while raising his hands to his ears. He ran smack into me and his rising arms hit under my chin, slamming my mouth shut and breaking the top off my tooth. My dental practice at the time was a father/son deal. The son was great, I loved him. The father was a bit beyond where he should have been practicing. I know that because each time a tooth breaks and they get inside they find a messed up filling. Most of my fillings have been replaced or crowned now so hopefully this will let up, but he repaired the broken tooth. He slapped some bonding on it and called it done. Fast forward to this year and I broke the bonding off, probably grinding. I went to the dentist expecting to get it re-bonded but he just smoothed it off and said bonding wouldn't work because the tooth was essentially shattered, and that it would gradually crumble and I'd need a crown. Within 3 weeks of this prediction I woke up with my lip shredded because the tooth broke more and had a sharp edge. So tomorrow is the crown, at least part one of it. I also have this odd feeling he said something about a root canal, but I'm hoping I made that up.
I painfully put aside the $500 co-pay (money that I could use elsewhere in the great debt resolution 2010, plus I need new shoes. Mine hurt. A lot. Apparently I'm going wear shoes out really fast until my ankle is fixed. Yippee.) And tomorrow I'll go and medicate myself for the anxiety, keeping the remainder of what Dr. Brain said I could take where others can access it. They'll go through their whole routine of making everything the same and making sure I'm as comfortable and relaxed as possible, they'll numb me (with extra shots because I can't have regular numbing with the MAOI) and then let me sit for quite a while until I am extremely numb, and then I'll have to deal with horrible sounds, fighting gagging, holding still when someone messes with me, etc. I know the dentist isn't holding me down, but it is similar. And the whole time I sit there I know that he knows that it is highly likely not only sexually abused but that oral sex was part of what happened to me. Because people who act like I do are likely to have that history. I found that out accidentally, had it confirmed by Dr. Mind who said that the only thing he really knew before he was given the great list of things that happened to me was that this was likely, and while they are wonderful and so kind, it is emotionally so hard to have my face messed with and not be able to move.
So tomorrow isn't much fun.
I've also been working hard on figuring out what to negotiate for on Friday. Which is scary as I hate negotiating, yet I also am taking a humongous pay cut no matter what (unless they are insanely generous) and so I have all kinds of data and reasoning, and I'm nervous about it.
Today I left before dawn and got home just after the sun set.I did go to the fabric store for a few minutes, but such a long, long day. I still have 30 minutes of paperwork I'm avoiding. Tomorrow I'll undoubtedly rest a lot, and then I see Dr. Mind in the evening unless I'm hurting too much. However, i really need to see the billing person as my stupid insurance has now marked all claims for therapy for the whole year rejected. Which is a HUGE amount of money that I wouldn't have minded paying visit to visit, but in a lump sum it's a lot to handle. We spent literally months trying to get them to understand they were paying what they shouldn't (they paid in-network when Dr. Mind isn't) and eventually gave up. I suspect they've now discovered the mistake and are demanding the $ back.
I have to finish those notes now. I'm going to be sleepy very soon.
More tomorrow unless I'm too high on Vicodin.
Monday, September 27, 2010
More on however you say the name of this place I live
I had been considering this for a while but decided to go for it last week.
During times I am well enough I'd like this blog to reflect my life a little. More than work and illness and treatments, the things beyond that. One of the things that I truly treasure and which I am becoming more attuned to as I work in the most rural places imaginable is my Appalachian culture.
There are ways that I have been pulled away from the culture. Growing up with an English teacher I never used some of the slang, although I do/did drop the"g' from "ing" and have a number of characteristics of my speech that are pure Appalachian. However, I (sadly) worked hard to get rid of some of it in college because I wanted nothing to do with my past, and then in grad school my accent changed because people in Michigan talk very differently than how I did. For whatever reason I am totally unable to re-learn colloquial vowels,so that everyone thinks my name is some variation of "Jan" rather than Jen. I can't hear it, although others do, that last bit of Michigan in there. In college I had a professor from Appalachia as well and my roommate would tease me after his classes because I'd leave with the accent much stronger. There are other ways I'm "different": educated, female and educated, the level of education I have, female homeowner (especially back when i first owned the house in my twenties), unmarried, childless and intending to stay that way,and I've lived a significant part of my life outside of this culture.
But I also see it all the time. I have patients who speak traditional Appalachian, and I'll give you some of those phrases when my meds aren't kicking in sometime.
But for now, as soon as I get around to it, I'm going to start sharing some of what I see on my daily trips around the countryside. The trick is that all photos are taken from a moving car. I haven't looked so see what I've captured, and I know I missed one I really want: the camper with a portapotty where someone lives. That one I'll have to keep trying. I also have to avoid my patients' homes and possessions. However, there are still thousands of things to see. Some of what I want to capture is the beauty of rolling hills as far as you can see, the rural churches that are almost more frequently seen than farmhouses; the lovely colors as fall comes (although this is going to be a bland fall due to lack of rain) and hopefully I can find a way to show the craziness of the wealth that is interspersed with the poverty. There's literally one place I know of with a home worth at least $250000 HERE (lots more elsewhere) side by side with shacks. It's kind of weird.
I'll bring my camera in soon an we'll see what I've gotten so far.
During times I am well enough I'd like this blog to reflect my life a little. More than work and illness and treatments, the things beyond that. One of the things that I truly treasure and which I am becoming more attuned to as I work in the most rural places imaginable is my Appalachian culture.
There are ways that I have been pulled away from the culture. Growing up with an English teacher I never used some of the slang, although I do/did drop the"g' from "ing" and have a number of characteristics of my speech that are pure Appalachian. However, I (sadly) worked hard to get rid of some of it in college because I wanted nothing to do with my past, and then in grad school my accent changed because people in Michigan talk very differently than how I did. For whatever reason I am totally unable to re-learn colloquial vowels,so that everyone thinks my name is some variation of "Jan" rather than Jen. I can't hear it, although others do, that last bit of Michigan in there. In college I had a professor from Appalachia as well and my roommate would tease me after his classes because I'd leave with the accent much stronger. There are other ways I'm "different": educated, female and educated, the level of education I have, female homeowner (especially back when i first owned the house in my twenties), unmarried, childless and intending to stay that way,and I've lived a significant part of my life outside of this culture.
But I also see it all the time. I have patients who speak traditional Appalachian, and I'll give you some of those phrases when my meds aren't kicking in sometime.
But for now, as soon as I get around to it, I'm going to start sharing some of what I see on my daily trips around the countryside. The trick is that all photos are taken from a moving car. I haven't looked so see what I've captured, and I know I missed one I really want: the camper with a portapotty where someone lives. That one I'll have to keep trying. I also have to avoid my patients' homes and possessions. However, there are still thousands of things to see. Some of what I want to capture is the beauty of rolling hills as far as you can see, the rural churches that are almost more frequently seen than farmhouses; the lovely colors as fall comes (although this is going to be a bland fall due to lack of rain) and hopefully I can find a way to show the craziness of the wealth that is interspersed with the poverty. There's literally one place I know of with a home worth at least $250000 HERE (lots more elsewhere) side by side with shacks. It's kind of weird.
I'll bring my camera in soon an we'll see what I've gotten so far.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Michal Part II
- Thanks for the reminder. It depends what part of Appalachia you live in how you say it, I think. More southern, Tennesee area people use the Appa LATCHA thing. I say it App a LA(long A) shu. I live on the edge of it, that might mean our way is really weird. The funny books as long as you look for Janet Evanovich and Stephanie Plum series you get the right ones. They are all named numerically, I think it's One for the Money and I know no other titles. Lean Mean 16? They truly are enough to get heavy laughter out of me every time I'eve read one except in the hospital last year when I couldn't follow. Later that book did turn out to be funny.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
What not to do to assess your progress in recovering from an epidose
So if you have torn 2 ligaments in your ankle beyond repair (except the surgical variety) and know that if you hurt it again you have to have major, many weeks of disability, surgery that you also know you'll be having in a couple years anyway, and the best way to keep your ankle safe is to wear a bulky brace every time you walk on uneven ground, it's really not smart to a) go outside without the brace, turning your ankle. Not badly, but every time that happens a little more damage can occur to the already useless ligaments. And tearing a 3rd ligament means REALLY major surgery. b) Drop a crockpot, catch it but not the lid, and have the lid come down hard on the inside of your ankle, causing a 4 inch long bruise that includes the area where the brace is tighest and where the edge of the hard plastic rubs.
Now I get to pad the stupid thing Monday. I have pain patches that probably would do it but I hate to waste a pain patch (none addictive med) if I don't need to.
Oh, and while you drop the crock pot also knock over another container full of soup all over the floor in front of the fridge.
Then, later, decide things aren't bad enough and go back to the kitchen for fresh cider, your favorite fall treat. Bump your cup and watch cider fly all over the other half of the kitchen.
Know your episode is lifting when you don't cry for 3 hours. Or even 3 minutes.
Now I get to pad the stupid thing Monday. I have pain patches that probably would do it but I hate to waste a pain patch (none addictive med) if I don't need to.
Oh, and while you drop the crock pot also knock over another container full of soup all over the floor in front of the fridge.
Then, later, decide things aren't bad enough and go back to the kitchen for fresh cider, your favorite fall treat. Bump your cup and watch cider fly all over the other half of the kitchen.
Know your episode is lifting when you don't cry for 3 hours. Or even 3 minutes.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Meet Michal
(Who has one of my favorite names, still :).
1. I speak Swedish.
I speak Appalachian?? I have nothing to compare to that one. I took German in high school, but it was from a Danish woman so I spoke horrible, limited German at graduation with a Danish accent. Not good. I was SO GLAD to not have to take a language in college, first because science majors didn't have to, and when I added my 2nd degree (pysch) I had enough years in high school to opt out. I had the German teacher for another class and loved him and would have been horrified to speak my hideous German in his prescence. Language is not my gift (see I'm Appalachian, sometimes we barely speak English).
2. I was a National Ski Patroller back in the day.
I have such coordinated readers. What are you doing on this page?:)
3. My grandkids are fifth generation Seattle (area) residents which isn't common anymore!
Wow. Growing up I was 4th generation in my town, which wasn't unusual but wasn't common either although I was more unusual in being 4th generation on both sides. I have no idea how my great-grandmother wound up in that town after immigrating from England and I know only that my great-grandfather played professional baseball before become small town postmaster. I never knew either of them and didn't want to from what I've heard. I did know and love another great-grandma and she was pure Appalachian. I have a pt. now who reminds me greatly of her. I hadn't realized that, but she does.
But now I've moved so many times I don't belong anywhere. And in this town I will NEVER belong. After 7 years I'm still an outsider, a newcomer, etc.
What is your favorite color?
Green. Sometimes blue. Like all routines that I adhere tightly to I have a thing about owning blue cars. This goes so deep that once Dr. Mind had me draw something representing how my manic mind felt. I drew a racetrack with a car and he identified it as a car mainly because it was blue. I don't know why I like that kind of routine but I do. The first car I drove a lot (my mom's) was blue. My first car was red, but I didn't pick it. My 2nd and 3rd were blue and my new car will be blue as well. But I have to watch it or I wear far too much green. I've been working on branching out in clothing from blue, green, cream and that's about it to include pastels, purples, etc. This is all probably part of why Dr. Mind thinks I have mild OCD, huh?
How is it looking for your upcoming vacation?
Vacation is on. They seem to understand how badly I need it. I had so much overtime I added a day away, so it's me, my kitties, my sewing machine, trees,and the wildlife at the feeder on my 5 acres allotted to my cabin from Sunday until Thursday morning. I am so excited.
Do you ever watch t.v?
I own a tv, but 2 or 3 years ago realized that with the virtual end of sitcoms and the 10th year of ER (I didn't miss a single episode for 10 years, but after Noah Wyle left never made it through another), that there was nothing that interested me but re-runs of a few sitcoms. So I unplugged the cable and decided if 6 months passed and I hadn't plugged it in then I was done with cable. I paid so little attention that 8 months passed before I even remembered. So I don't have TV. I was DVDs, mostly Friends or Everybody Loves Raymond, over and over, because very few shows hold my attention and mostly those are on while I"m doing something repetitive like cleaning the kitchen and need distraction. Movies almost never do because I can't focus that long, esp. not while sitting still. I am forced to watch a lot of tv while working. I've seen more Judge Joe Brown, Judge Judy, Judge whoever to qualify me to replace them upon retirement. I've also been forced into watching episodes of the really whacky talk shows, like Jerry Springer, that are horrifying. But truly it's amazing how little I miss TV.
Favorite books?
I have stopped reading much in the last year. I wasn't able to for so long and it never came back. I think partly though this is because I listen to books on CD in the car for at least 4 hours per day, average. I enjoy a wide variety. I like mysteries, although less so in the last year. Right now I'm listening to John Grisham, who I always like, especially his non-legal books. I really like Jodi Picoult because I always wind up thinking after her books. Her latest I want to write a post on; it is the best explanation of sensory processing dysfunction and what the world feels like to someone like me that I've encountered, ever, including professional training. James Patterson is generally good;I've been a reader of his stuff from before he was remotely popular. I heard one Anne Lamott and want to hear/read more. I've listened to several Anne Rivers Siddons lately and those are good. I love Pat Conroy. I also love the Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich. There is sexual content that may not be for everyone but there is also humor that when I first heard one of her books (#6, it was the first I could find) I laughed so hard I had to pull over to regain control because I was crying. I will always be grateful to the nurse who suggested her; those books get me through depression frequently.
1. I speak Swedish.
I speak Appalachian?? I have nothing to compare to that one. I took German in high school, but it was from a Danish woman so I spoke horrible, limited German at graduation with a Danish accent. Not good. I was SO GLAD to not have to take a language in college, first because science majors didn't have to, and when I added my 2nd degree (pysch) I had enough years in high school to opt out. I had the German teacher for another class and loved him and would have been horrified to speak my hideous German in his prescence. Language is not my gift (see I'm Appalachian, sometimes we barely speak English).
2. I was a National Ski Patroller back in the day.
I have such coordinated readers. What are you doing on this page?:)
3. My grandkids are fifth generation Seattle (area) residents which isn't common anymore!
Wow. Growing up I was 4th generation in my town, which wasn't unusual but wasn't common either although I was more unusual in being 4th generation on both sides. I have no idea how my great-grandmother wound up in that town after immigrating from England and I know only that my great-grandfather played professional baseball before become small town postmaster. I never knew either of them and didn't want to from what I've heard. I did know and love another great-grandma and she was pure Appalachian. I have a pt. now who reminds me greatly of her. I hadn't realized that, but she does.
But now I've moved so many times I don't belong anywhere. And in this town I will NEVER belong. After 7 years I'm still an outsider, a newcomer, etc.
What is your favorite color?
Green. Sometimes blue. Like all routines that I adhere tightly to I have a thing about owning blue cars. This goes so deep that once Dr. Mind had me draw something representing how my manic mind felt. I drew a racetrack with a car and he identified it as a car mainly because it was blue. I don't know why I like that kind of routine but I do. The first car I drove a lot (my mom's) was blue. My first car was red, but I didn't pick it. My 2nd and 3rd were blue and my new car will be blue as well. But I have to watch it or I wear far too much green. I've been working on branching out in clothing from blue, green, cream and that's about it to include pastels, purples, etc. This is all probably part of why Dr. Mind thinks I have mild OCD, huh?
How is it looking for your upcoming vacation?
Vacation is on. They seem to understand how badly I need it. I had so much overtime I added a day away, so it's me, my kitties, my sewing machine, trees,and the wildlife at the feeder on my 5 acres allotted to my cabin from Sunday until Thursday morning. I am so excited.
Do you ever watch t.v?
I own a tv, but 2 or 3 years ago realized that with the virtual end of sitcoms and the 10th year of ER (I didn't miss a single episode for 10 years, but after Noah Wyle left never made it through another), that there was nothing that interested me but re-runs of a few sitcoms. So I unplugged the cable and decided if 6 months passed and I hadn't plugged it in then I was done with cable. I paid so little attention that 8 months passed before I even remembered. So I don't have TV. I was DVDs, mostly Friends or Everybody Loves Raymond, over and over, because very few shows hold my attention and mostly those are on while I"m doing something repetitive like cleaning the kitchen and need distraction. Movies almost never do because I can't focus that long, esp. not while sitting still. I am forced to watch a lot of tv while working. I've seen more Judge Joe Brown, Judge Judy, Judge whoever to qualify me to replace them upon retirement. I've also been forced into watching episodes of the really whacky talk shows, like Jerry Springer, that are horrifying. But truly it's amazing how little I miss TV.
Favorite books?
I have stopped reading much in the last year. I wasn't able to for so long and it never came back. I think partly though this is because I listen to books on CD in the car for at least 4 hours per day, average. I enjoy a wide variety. I like mysteries, although less so in the last year. Right now I'm listening to John Grisham, who I always like, especially his non-legal books. I really like Jodi Picoult because I always wind up thinking after her books. Her latest I want to write a post on; it is the best explanation of sensory processing dysfunction and what the world feels like to someone like me that I've encountered, ever, including professional training. James Patterson is generally good;I've been a reader of his stuff from before he was remotely popular. I heard one Anne Lamott and want to hear/read more. I've listened to several Anne Rivers Siddons lately and those are good. I love Pat Conroy. I also love the Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich. There is sexual content that may not be for everyone but there is also humor that when I first heard one of her books (#6, it was the first I could find) I laughed so hard I had to pull over to regain control because I was crying. I will always be grateful to the nurse who suggested her; those books get me through depression frequently.
Sorry I didn't get yours done this morning. I was doing 3 things at once and suddenly it was time to leave.
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