A year!

I’ve had my little blog up for over a year and… well, I’ve lived up to its name, haven’t I?  

Slacking on emails, barely calling family/friends, not even posting here or in the other more (or less) ‘secret’ places – I’ve dropped off the face of that portion of the internet.  Save for the occasional status update on Facebook which, lets face it, those are never 100% honest and if they are 99% honest, it’s only to tell when something good has happened. 

But this year hasn’t been all bad, of course.  It certainly beats the hell out of 2010-2011 (which was a very, very, dark and twisty time).  I guess a little summation would work:

Still at my job… I still like what I do, I’m still glad I went into the industry I did… I question sometimes the actual location – I think most people have a love/hate relationship with their workplace or a particular coworker.  I try to keep myself focused on the thing I like: designing.  Everything else is small potatoes. 

Still have my shrink and my talk-doc.  Thought I came upon a bit of an epiphany a few months ago… even went so far as to send in said epiphany to a certain postcard site (unsigned, of course).  It felt good to put the apology to the world out there, even if only one dude in Maryland ends up being the only person to see it.  

I still wonder sometimes when my life will begin – and I know I really need to open my eyes very very soon and realize I’m living it, even if every step hasn’t gone exactly how the little girl inside of me thought it would. 

Can’t get out of my past section of my brain.

Sometimes I simply wonder if I am a bad person… If, the reason I feel like things can look as if there is totally no hope is because of things I have done in my past.

Going slightly mad

 

So, THAT happened.  What is “that”, you ask?  THAT is me exercising twice this week.

It’s been a very introspective month since coming back from Massachusetts.  I think this is the time of year where I always tend to get a little…  dark and twisty, if you will.  A combo of the end of summer, the loom of the holidays, the fact that another year is going by and I am still stagnant in a great many aspects of my life.  This became a topic with the talk-doc the last time I saw her and I literally gave her a time line of major events in my life, most of them involving a huge life change (a.k.a. move way the eff away) and eventually finding myself back where I started, but with different outdoor scenery.  Now I wonder if my Mass-move idea is because I want to live there, or because I want a change.  For the time being, it’s still a thought, still something I would seriously consider for all the family reasons, but I need to figure out my “me” reasons too.

What ANY of this has to do with running… that I am not entirely sure, but, I got a wild hair on Monday and realized that once upon a time I actually signed myself up for a marathon, went so far as to purchase an ipod nano inscribed with “Maui 2007, 26.2 Miles – You CAN do this!”, and maybe ran a total of 5 days (according to the Nike chip I also purchased for said nano).  Weighing in these days at at least 30-40lbs more than I did when I actually thought I could run 26.2, I decided to set my sights a little less drastic and instead, I signed up for a 5K.

I didn’t, and still don’t, really want to broadcast this to the entire world (though, here I am putting it on the internet.. heh), but I did confide in a coworker of mine whom I know enjoys running.  I asked her for some tips and tricks and she said, “Do you want to know what I did when I started running?”  “Yes please!” was my reply.  She didn’t follow a particular program, she didn’t set her sights on running a specific length, she just got outside, walked, and ran when she thought she could.   She’d aim for one block, and if she made it, great…  if not, she’d try the same block the next day.  And kept building her endurance that way.

It’s not exactly rocket science.

And I remember when I had my other blog (when I was planning to marathon), someone commented to me that the biggest tip for exercising he ever got was to just “get out there” – put your shoes on, go to the gym, and decide what you want to do when you get there.  If you only work out for 5 minutes, hey… work out for 5 minutes.  But the hardest hurdle, for me anyhow, has always been that first part… getting out there.  The second largest hurdle has been to not feel like a total and utter failure when all I get done is 5 minutes of any workout.

So the idea of working out with no real goal in mind is pretty fantastic for me.  While I totally appreciate the rigidity of C25K, I always felt like a mega loser when it came down to the time for that second sprint of a run and I was still trying to catch up from the first 60 minute run.  For my “plan”?  Step one is getting out there.  Step two is just walking…  and when I feel the burst to run, I run!  When I feel like I can’t run anymore, I go back to walking.  I work up a sweat, I drink water like a mofo, and before I know it, I’m feeling like “OK… that’s enough” and I realize, “huh…  I just did about 20 minutes of cardio that I didn’t do yesterday!”

I am only 2 days in…  knowing me (I mean, hello… look at the NAME of this blog!) there might be a chance that I won’t make it to the Hot Chocolate 5K… BUT, I am going to strive like hell to break my own stereotype.

Arachnoid Cysts / Arachnophobia

First things first: My Dad made it through surgery just fine.  While in recovery, immediately after, he was cracking jokes all over the place.  He complained about still feeling funny in his ears and head, but for the most part – he was just himself.  He’s still in the hospital, potentially going home tomorrow.  He has his good days, and his bad days, but – he feels ready to take on his home.

His home… I’m about two steps away from contacting Hoarders to get them out to his house.  To say that the last time it was thoroughly cleaned was when my mom lived there (34 years ago) is not an exaggeration.  I could have (should have) spent more time at his place than I did, but… the 5 hours I did spend there, I don’t think it looks like I did anything other than make the bed.  But, in reality, I probably displaced a good portion of the spider population north of the Mason-Dixon line, not to mention the inches of dust I cleared away.  

I am not an overly clean person – ask anyone who has ever seen my apartment on the 364 “off” days I have.  HOWEVER, I cannot fathom living in an environment that it literally toxic to both myself, and those around me, for well over 30 years.  It’s just awful.  And I feel awful for feeling disappointed in my Dad, when there are bigger things to worry about right now.

Not how I imagined my “summer vacation”

I’m looking up flights for a trip back east.  I had been thinking about going there this summer to visit family and pay a visit to the Vital Records office in Massachusetts (I’m on a major, major Genealogy kick!).  Instead, I will be spending some time before, during, and after my dad’s noggin surgery.

There are a great deal more things I want to say, and express just how all this feels but..  I can’t put it all into actual words yet.

Braaaaaains.

I’ve broken my own rule that I have been so adamant about with my parents – if they are sick, or end up at the doctors or hospital for ANY reason, I want to know about it immediately – even if things are unknown.  All too often I’ve found out after the fact that, “Oh, I went to the ER on Friday and they kept me in for a few days.  I’m home now, it was nothing serious.”  Being far away from both parents makes this very very unsettling.

So my dad has been very forth-coming with telling me about the current issues he is having with his noggin.  Since he has the trump card on brain issues, I failed to tell him that I have been having headaches for well over a month and, after seeing my family doctor, I was referred to a neurologist.

Today was said neurologist appointment and after some questions, a brief exam that involved me walking a line similar to what I’ve seen cops do to DUI people on TV, neuro doc said he didn’t even think my headaches were migraines.  He explained that it could have started off as tension headaches, and by self-medicating like I normally would with a headache, I could have given myself an adverse effect and tossed ‘rebound’ headaches on top of tension.  Just to be safe – for my own peace of mind, because I’m young, and because of dad’s noggin (which he said wouldn’t be hereditary), he said he would order an MRI.

I walked down the hall to the imaging office and they had an opening for the test today.  I texted my boss to change my half day to a full day, grabbed some lunch, went back to the imaging office and knit for an hour or so in the waiting room.  While waiting, I struck up a conversation with a woman whose husband was getting a bone scan.  When I told her I was having an MRI she shuddered a little and said, “oof.  Have fun with that.”  To which I replied, “Well, I’ve had a CT scan before… can’t be much different, can it?”  She started to talk and I said, “You know what?  Tell me about it afterwards.”  Of course, she was long gone by the time I came out of the MRI, but I sort of get what she might have “oof”-ed about.

Your head?  It’s strapped to the table.   The machine?  It’s loud as all get out.  My dad had told me when he had his MRI they played music in the background.  I was not asked about music, nor would I have been able to hear a darn bit of it.  At one point, I started counting the clicks and beeps – I might have dozed off even, but then a very loud beep made me jump a little.  Worried if I pressed the button to get me out of there, or even that my jump would have screwed things up, I tried to just keep breathing and reminded myself it would all be over soon.

And I silently laughed that for someone who was having chronic headaches, the Rx of putting said person in a large, loud machine was just oh-so-rich.

Anyhow, I made it through the scan.  I asked the tech if I could take a look at my noggin.  He said sure, but that he couldn’t comment on what he saw, other than to point out that I did, in fact, have a brain in my head.  I told him that my mother would be pleased to know that it really exists!

A few hours later I got a call from the neurologist and he said everything on the MRI was fine – my brain is clean.  There is nothing physically wrong up there.  Which means that the headaches I’ve been sporting for well over a month are probably being caused by one teeny, tiny little thing.

Stress.

What a motherfucker.

 

PS – I sort of wish I had seen this video BEFORE the MRI experience…  but, it does totally explain how it all goes down in a non-threatening fashion.

A very quick post…

Monday evening I met with my therapist.  My day had been otherwise pretty good, up until the last half hour of it all.  I fumed the entire 20 minute drive over to her office, replaying what went wrong just prior.

I took the elevator up to her floor, flipped the switch and sat down in the waiting room.  I continued to fume in my brain, with one word being repeated over and over in my noggin.  The door opened and my therapist walked me back to her office.  I kicked off my shoes, sat down on her sofa, let out the biggest sigh ever and said, “Am I allowed to use the word ‘motherfucker’ in here?”

She laughed.  I laughed.  And I instantly felt better.

(For what it’s worth?  She totally said I could use the word ‘motherfucker’ whenever I wanted to.  Good to know!)

The Barn and the Farmhand

I used to be able to sleep on command.  Give me 5 minutes and poof… out like a light.  In a movie theather, in a car, on my sofa… the one time and place I can’t seem to sleep lately is in my bed, and past 4am.  At first I’m sure it was because of the elephant who moved in above me…  his work schedule apparently has him waking up at 5am on the dot and since he never learned the art of “walk softly”, I was waking up at 5am right with him.  Over the past month or so, the time my body decides to wake up has gotten earlier and earlier.  I seriously rolled over last night, wide awake, looked at my phone and it said “2:34”.  I said aloud, to no one, “No.”  I don’t know how long it took me to get back to sleep, but it felt like it was only 5 minutes later when I looked at the time again and it was “3:45”.

Anyhow, there is more to the story of me waking up early and the bottom line of it all is a massive sense of insecurity in a great many aspects of my life.  Did I choose the right career?  Am I ever going to find the right man?  Why does my brain and heart always long for the East Coast?

In one of my fits of not sleeping, I started looking up real estate in New England.  It’s not like I am financially in the market to purchase property of ANY sort right now, but I was utterly amazed that for less than my car payment I could actually own a house and be close to family and friends.  Win-win, right?  I found a piece of property that caught my eye mostly because of price, but also because of location, size, and… how much friggen fun would this be to fix up?

Yes.  It’s a barn.  I am unsure how it has not just two, but two and a HALF bathrooms… but with 5000 square feet, I could sure as heck build a new one if I didn’t like the two that were existing already!

And now, my reason for writing this post, was to share with you a conversation with my dear pal Stephanie.  It started off as most conversations about a barn-property would go, but she took it to a whole new level with her imagination and perhaps by knowing me a little too well (especially considering how relatively new our friendship is!)  This happened via text messaging and is transcribed verbatim:

Me: I would like to take you for coffee some evening and borrow your rational and logical brain.  My emotional one is literally sore.

Steph: Ouch. What’s up?

Me: I’m better than yesterday.. I just need a plan.  And I tend to go head first into them without thought.

Steph: I can see where that could be problematic.

Me: Because really? A 5000sf barn in Massachusetts is super appealing.

Steph: …?

Me: Oh I found a 5000 sf, 2 bath (?) barn in mass for 80k

Me: Mortgage would be less than my car payment

Me: Emotional brain says fuck all and go live in a barn.

Me: My twinge of rational brain said I need to eat.

Me: And without a job I couldn’t afford the cows or chickens for said barn.  Not to mention I’d give them names and suddenly be vegan.

Steph: You cannot possible need a whole barn’s worth of yarn storage space.

Me: Oh I hadn’t even GONE there… Now I MUST have barn!!!

Steph: Um. Is this an actual barn?

Me: Yes!!! I can email link tomorrow.

Steph: Does it have AC? Or plumbing?

Me: It says 2 baths… but it also has 2 acres so maybe it’s a hole behind a tree or two

Steph: How about floorboards?

Me: Not so much 🙂 luckily, I’m a designer!!

Steph: Electricity?

Me: Unclear

Steph: Gee, this place sounds like a steal

Me: Lol 🙂

Steph: Well, if you decide to embrace your inner Amish, I want to see live blogging from the public library 200 miles down the unpaved road.

Steph: Or you could rent Season 1 of Green Acres

Steph: Although, it would be a fine opportunity for you to milk a cow! 🙂 {Author’s note: it is on my bucket list to milk a cow}

Steph: OK, at some point I started mentally rewriting this convo as a romance novel

Me: I can totally see romance novel written all over it!

Steph: I’d be cast as the unsupportive friend who laughs when you buy an unfurnished barn in the middle of nowhere, which you will obviously furnish and make profitable through sheer talent and force of will

Steph: Obviously the farm comes with a sexy as hell farmhand who is at first annoyed by your existence, then strangely protective, dropping by to help you with chores

Me: I love this story!!!

Me: Most people are first annoyed by my existence.

Steph: Finally, he decides to have a go at convincing you to try a little “sharecropping” over a nice meal, and you two have to band together to save the town steeple

Steph: Which is being dismantled by a crooked restoration company that wants a plant to make drills

Steph: But your farmhand is on the local historical society, and you plan to throw a design festival to demonstrate its worth

Steph: Where you discover a talent for cake decorating in the process 😛

Me: Ok… I’m totally copying and pasting this on my blog with your permission!!

Steph: Go for it

Steph: Be sure to mention the later creative use of fondant and cake frosting!

Me: Mmmmm… Frosting!

Steph: Yeah, that’s what he said.

 

 

 

Therapy Fodder

I was in about 5th grade when my mother threw away my Barbie dolls. She didn’t think I played with them anymore, but that was only because I was playing with them in secret. At whatever age a 5th grader is, I somehow thought it was too immature to be playing with dolls anymore. One time when she had finally had enough of looking at my mess of a room, she grabbed a handful of my Barbies and said, “I’m throwing these out because you don’t play with them anymore.” I was crushed as I watched her place them in a trashbag, but I couldn’t tell her this. I saved it for therapy, and now, my blog.

I played Barbies like I think most kids did – they weren’t the traditional Barbie, Ken (I didn’t even own a Ken doll, though I did have 3 of the New Kids on the Block dolls… those were Barbie’s boyfriends – and of course one would later turn out to be gay). Barbie and “Ken” were getting into fights… Ken would end up getting into a car accident and Barbie was left grieving and taking care of her child that grew from infant to teenager overnight. Barbie would then run off, become a movie actress and live a life of independence, not giving a crap what anyone thought of her. (Alright, maybe most kids didn’t play Barbies this way, but I have heard stories from other friends who said Ken ended up hanging himself from the balcony while Barbie popped her own head off from time to time.)

Without Barbies to fill my imagination, I turned to other things… stuffed animals… I made paper collages… there was always some sort of art project going on in my room… I painted things with nail polish that weren’t my nails (I had the BEST rock collection ever!)

Cassette tapes were also big back then, so I would listen to some on repeat. 2 in particular that belonged to my mom were played nearly to the point of breaking. Abba Gold, and Carly Simon Greatest Hits Live. It wasn’t long before I started came up with a new way to play “Barbies”, without the Barbies but WITH a soundtrack. My bottles of nailpolish? They became members of a chorus and did shows – often.

Books would be stacked in a stepping fashion (the stage, of course) throughout songs like Coming Around Again or Waterloo, the bottles would move from one step to another, depending on whose turn it was to sing the next verse or chorus. Only a few bottles could sway at a time (I couldn’t imagine myself a few extra hands to get the entire group to sway at once) so the background singers mostly stood still, awaiting their turn at the mic (a half-Q-tip with the cotton end made black by a licorice-scented marker – the base was made of two toothpicks glued in an X).

Oh there was drama within the group too. Sally Hansen, for instance, was a prissy soft-pink gal who never sang a note off-key and ALWAYS got the solos. Wet N Wild in a dark purple shade was always late for practice and constantly got her choreography wrong. ClearCoat was the peacemaker – the neutral needed to bring everyone together and make sure every show finished flawlessly.

Sometimes I think that my generation was the last one to grow up truly having to come up with ideas to entertain ourselves. Imagination? Totally necessary.

Ideas

I started reading through an older blog, from back when I was seemingly a different person. A person who was determined, had goals, and consistently described herself as “strong”.

It was eye-opening, this little jog down memory lane (no pun intended), and it reminds me why I like keeping a blog/vlog/journal of any sort, even if it does result in the occasional familial mess when I say the wrong thing about the wrong person.

But, I digress. 🙂

I had planned to run a marathon in 2007. I had even purchased my plane ticket and read up on various different methods of training. I feel like I knew what Couch-to-5K was before it became an app that everyone (including me) was able to download onto their smartphones (because, to be honest, when I was “training” – I use the term loosely – I was using an iPod Nano and a Nike Chip that I safety pinned into my shoes.) Then I lost my job, and somewhere I lost my motivation. Along the way I also lost some little bits of myself. I don’t think people look at me as a strong woman anymore and I can say, with complete certainty, it’s due largely in part that *I* do not look at myself as a strong woman anymore.

But, I want to make this change. And here’s where today’s blog post title comes in:

I feel like I have decent ideas floating around in my head. Where I fail with 99.9% of my ideas is execution. My latest idea in my head seems like one that should be easy enough to accomplish, but in the 2 days it’s been there, I’ve managed to excuse my way out of it each day. The idea is this: Since I am waking up early most days anyhow, and coming to work a full hour earlier than I am scheduled to (not always “working” that full hour early, mind you), why not put some of that time to use and go to the gym? Here’s how little effort this should take: My apartment? Literally next door to the workout room in my apartment complex. If I wake up at 5am (which I do most days, honestly… with or without the beast upstairs), I could go over there and as long as I was able to get back into my apartment to shower and be on the road by 7:30 (even 7:45), I would still make it to my desk at 8:30am, which is on-time.

A plan B? There is a workout room here at work! And showers! For real! I could crawl out of bed, drive down here, work out, shower, and be sitting at my desk WHENEVER I am done! I think the only time constraint is that the building opens at 6am, but seriously… getting out of bed and driving down here would make it around that time when I was here anyhow… that’s a full TWO AND A HALF hours to work out and shower.

I have ZERO reasonable excuse not to make this happen. I even Googled yesterday “tips for working out before work” and one of them was to go to bed in your workout clothes – GENIUS! This would be perfect for working out in my apartment complex because all I would need to do is toss on a bra, and my sneakers, and walk out the door. HOW EASY IS THAT?

So easy that it’s Tuesday and I sat in bed messing around on my iPad this morning thinking that I could be doing the exact same thing except be on a treadmill at the same time. And instead, I chose to stay in bed.

I need to make this happen. I need to think of the rewards of it all – how fantastic would I feel afterwards? Would it help me not feel like I NEED that coffee in the morning (because I also need to cut back on caffeine for health reasons)? It could reboot the weight-loss I had already started but seem to be plateaued at.

I need a good swift kick in the rear to get over my sheer lazy factor.