It's almost noon and I'm still in my jammies. A couple of months ago there was nothing unusual about that but I've been doing a lot better. Not today, though. I was beat down by 5 yesterday evening and even contemplated going to bed early, but I was afraid I'd wake up at 3 am and not be able to go back to sleep. So instead I dozed off and on on the couch, falling asleep and then waking up and realizing I'd missed part of my show and rewinding (I love DVR!!) til I finally decided to go to bed. Apparently the last time I fell asleep was a good one because I didn't wake up til after 2!! Crap! Here I go again! This morning my back hurts and I'm tired and cranky. So I'm still in my jammies, playing with my cockatiel Coco and drinking coffee. And blogging (obviously).
Currently Coco is sitting on the back of the chair chewing his toes. I Googled. It's normal bird behavior.
NOS was very resistant to getting off the computer and doing his homework and going to bed last night. He apparently was also very quiet getting around this morning because I just knew he'd overslept and missed the bus. However...he didn't AND he put the trash can on the curb. Without being reminded by his mother. I'm so proud.
It's picture day for my little ones, so I made sure their clothes matched and picked a coordinating background color. School photos are getting expensive. $25 for each kid and you don't even get that many pics!! And the smallest package was still $18.
Now Coco is chewing on the wood trim around the window. I Googled again. Also normal bird behavior. Not sure if chewing is the right term, he doesn't have teeth, but beaking doesn't really sound right either.
I was reviewing my calendar and fall is going to be very busy for me!! Last outpatient surgery is coming up in a month. We've started planning our second anniversary party at the bar. Big D and I are booking bands right and left. PTA convention, school events, family get-togethers, the holidays. So much to do, so little time.
I'm feeling loathe to leave my house on a day that I don't really HAVE to when I think about all the non-lazy days I have coming up. The couple of things I had on my list for today can wait til tomorrow. That way I don't have to drive to the big city twice in two days.
See, I'm conserving energy, treehuggers.
So bring on the Nutella s'mores and a Criminal Minds marathon.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
I'm feeling a little verklempt...towk amongst yourselves...
Well, I had good intentions of blogging last night, but somehow the sandman caught up with me by the time I finished googling how to spell "verklempt." A google search of that word, of course, brought up the old Mike Myers Coffee Talk with Linda Richman skit from Saturday Night Live, and of course I had to watch it. Top of the list on Hulu was the one with Madonna and Roseanne where Barbra Streisand made a guest appearance. Ahhh, memories.
But verklempt I was yesterday when I walked into the 7th floor waiting room at Siteman Cancer Center. As I looked around the room while I waited to get my blood drawn, I couldn't help but remember being there for the first time last August. I was scared to death but trying not to show it. I'm glad I had my good friend Kondee's Mom and my loving DH with me. It made me wish I'd tried a little harder to get someone to come with me yesterday, but I honestly didn't think it would be anything other than routine. And it really wasn't, except inside my head and heart.
All that talk about coffee made me want some, and coffee made me want breakfast, but now I'm back.
It's been hard to blog this summer as I've gotten busier and not had much of a schedule. But with school starting Thursday, I think it's time to get back on track. I have a running to-do list a mile long, but it's torture to only do chores, so I've been trying to intersperse some fun stuff in there too. Funny how I don't have a hard time checking "get nails done" off the list, but "clean out junk rooms" (yes, there's TWO of them!) just keeps sitting there, big blank space off to the side, and all the junk keeps sitting there too. So I've made it a goal to work on the junk, 15 minutes at a time, and eventually it will be gone. As long as I resist adding to it (I can hear DH laughing as he reads this!!)
But anyway, back to my overwhelming emotions yesterday. It was such a strange mix of happy and sad, foreboding and relief. I teared up as I was waiting to get my blood drawn, but I sucked it up quickly because I realized that I really didn't want someone I don't know diving into my business, asking what's wrong, comforting me, etc. Yep, that's right, I'm finally getting back to normal!!! I looked around the room and saw people who looked sick and people who looked well. I saw suffering, bitterness, anger, despair, hope, desperation, acceptance, sadness and joy. I realized I'd been through all those feelings and so much more over the past year. In fact, in my verklempt moment, I think I experienced all of them at once, which was why I felt so full. I WAS full. And full is so, so much better than empty.
Empty. Yep that's the word I was looking for. That's what was different. I had felt empty for a few months as I was transitioning from being sick to being well. Don't get me wrong, I still had the support and love of my friends and family. I still had people calling or texting, offering help if I needed it, being gracious if I declined invitations and understanding if I left early. But still, I felt like something was missing. I know my doctor saw it too, which is why she offered to refer me to the psychologist at Siteman when I saw her back in March. I figured a head shrinker 200 miles out of the way probably wasn't going to be helpful, so I started seeing someone locally about 4 months ago.
I was surprised, initially, that anyone could possibly think I needed some mental help after the events of the last year. After all, I was coping, wasn't I? I was getting out of bed every day, brushing my teeth, eating, cleaning up after the kids, going to PTA meetings, doing stuff for the bar, etc. I was getting back to normal life. Except I wasn't.
In reality I was burying my feelings, unless they were happy ones. And they should be happy ones, right? After all, I have so much to be thankful for! I'm done with cancer treatments, my kids are healthy, my DH has a good job, the bar business is growing, I'm losing weight, I have a dependable car and a roof over my head. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts.
But I still felt empty. If I was an evangelical, this is where I would inject that I needed Jesus to fill me up. I'm a Christian, so I know it wasn't God or Jesus I was missing. In fact, I've felt closer to God over the past year because of all the troubles I've had. I've felt like Job at times, although he had it WAY worse than me.
Empty. All this good, all this light, but empty. Why oh why when I lay my head on the pillow at night could I not turn my brain off and go to sleep?? Why oh why would I fall asleep watching TV or reading and then crawl in bed and it's like I just drank a venti red eye?? What was wrong with me?
Dr. E has finally helped me put my finger on it. Talking to her every couple of weeks for an hour has helped me discover what the problem is, why I should be happy and can't, why in the past I should have been sad and wasn't. Cyclothymic disorder. It's like a mild form of bipolar disorder. As a matter of fact, what clued me in was the article in People back in April about Catherine Zeta-Jones struggle with bipolar disorder. After I read the article, it was like the pieces of the puzzle finally started to fit.
I talked to DH and he read up on it a little and agreed the symptoms seemed to align with my behavior. I mentioned it to Dr. E and we explored the possibility that I was bipolar as opposed to dysthymic (like a mild form of depression). In the end, since my up moods were not extreme (no $10K spending sprees or gambling weekends), she settled on cyclothymic disorder for a diagnosis.
Diagnosis. A label. Some people would find having a diagnosed mental illness to be disturbing, shameful, embarrassing. I find it...relieving. Yes, there really is something wrong with me! (Pipe down over there, peanut gallery!) That doesn't mean I'm GLAD there's something wrong and I'm not going to use it as an excuse for bad behavior, but to know that there is something a little off in my brain that causes my mood to cycle up and down, well, it helps. If I'm aware of it, I can have some control over it. I've been working with Dr. E on ways to recognize my mood is going one way or the other and strategies to control it.
Yep. That's right. I said control. Dealing with a mental disorder is all about control. I can't control my brain chemicals, but I can control my behavior. I can exercise, I can have a routine, I can have a bedtime, I can limit alcohol, I can take a sleeping pill when I need it. I can recognize when I'm cycling up or down and not feed into the behaviors that go along with the up and down.
No more dragging out my entire closet onto my bed because I have to clean out my closet today. No more procrastination, which is an off-shoot of perfectionism. No more perfectionism, for that matter.
I wish I could figure out exactly what clicked yesterday. What made me realize my gauge had moved from empty to full? I'm looking around my house, and I'm still seeing my little fires that need to be put out. I'm going over my "to-do" list and there are still things that need to be done. That list will never be empty. Maybe that's what it is. The understanding that I will never get it all done, and it will never be perfect. But I can still get a lot of it done, and I can do my best. Not perfect.
Just...me.
But verklempt I was yesterday when I walked into the 7th floor waiting room at Siteman Cancer Center. As I looked around the room while I waited to get my blood drawn, I couldn't help but remember being there for the first time last August. I was scared to death but trying not to show it. I'm glad I had my good friend Kondee's Mom and my loving DH with me. It made me wish I'd tried a little harder to get someone to come with me yesterday, but I honestly didn't think it would be anything other than routine. And it really wasn't, except inside my head and heart.
All that talk about coffee made me want some, and coffee made me want breakfast, but now I'm back.
It's been hard to blog this summer as I've gotten busier and not had much of a schedule. But with school starting Thursday, I think it's time to get back on track. I have a running to-do list a mile long, but it's torture to only do chores, so I've been trying to intersperse some fun stuff in there too. Funny how I don't have a hard time checking "get nails done" off the list, but "clean out junk rooms" (yes, there's TWO of them!) just keeps sitting there, big blank space off to the side, and all the junk keeps sitting there too. So I've made it a goal to work on the junk, 15 minutes at a time, and eventually it will be gone. As long as I resist adding to it (I can hear DH laughing as he reads this!!)
But anyway, back to my overwhelming emotions yesterday. It was such a strange mix of happy and sad, foreboding and relief. I teared up as I was waiting to get my blood drawn, but I sucked it up quickly because I realized that I really didn't want someone I don't know diving into my business, asking what's wrong, comforting me, etc. Yep, that's right, I'm finally getting back to normal!!! I looked around the room and saw people who looked sick and people who looked well. I saw suffering, bitterness, anger, despair, hope, desperation, acceptance, sadness and joy. I realized I'd been through all those feelings and so much more over the past year. In fact, in my verklempt moment, I think I experienced all of them at once, which was why I felt so full. I WAS full. And full is so, so much better than empty.
Empty. Yep that's the word I was looking for. That's what was different. I had felt empty for a few months as I was transitioning from being sick to being well. Don't get me wrong, I still had the support and love of my friends and family. I still had people calling or texting, offering help if I needed it, being gracious if I declined invitations and understanding if I left early. But still, I felt like something was missing. I know my doctor saw it too, which is why she offered to refer me to the psychologist at Siteman when I saw her back in March. I figured a head shrinker 200 miles out of the way probably wasn't going to be helpful, so I started seeing someone locally about 4 months ago.
I was surprised, initially, that anyone could possibly think I needed some mental help after the events of the last year. After all, I was coping, wasn't I? I was getting out of bed every day, brushing my teeth, eating, cleaning up after the kids, going to PTA meetings, doing stuff for the bar, etc. I was getting back to normal life. Except I wasn't.
In reality I was burying my feelings, unless they were happy ones. And they should be happy ones, right? After all, I have so much to be thankful for! I'm done with cancer treatments, my kids are healthy, my DH has a good job, the bar business is growing, I'm losing weight, I have a dependable car and a roof over my head. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts.
But I still felt empty. If I was an evangelical, this is where I would inject that I needed Jesus to fill me up. I'm a Christian, so I know it wasn't God or Jesus I was missing. In fact, I've felt closer to God over the past year because of all the troubles I've had. I've felt like Job at times, although he had it WAY worse than me.
Empty. All this good, all this light, but empty. Why oh why when I lay my head on the pillow at night could I not turn my brain off and go to sleep?? Why oh why would I fall asleep watching TV or reading and then crawl in bed and it's like I just drank a venti red eye?? What was wrong with me?
Dr. E has finally helped me put my finger on it. Talking to her every couple of weeks for an hour has helped me discover what the problem is, why I should be happy and can't, why in the past I should have been sad and wasn't. Cyclothymic disorder. It's like a mild form of bipolar disorder. As a matter of fact, what clued me in was the article in People back in April about Catherine Zeta-Jones struggle with bipolar disorder. After I read the article, it was like the pieces of the puzzle finally started to fit.
I talked to DH and he read up on it a little and agreed the symptoms seemed to align with my behavior. I mentioned it to Dr. E and we explored the possibility that I was bipolar as opposed to dysthymic (like a mild form of depression). In the end, since my up moods were not extreme (no $10K spending sprees or gambling weekends), she settled on cyclothymic disorder for a diagnosis.
Diagnosis. A label. Some people would find having a diagnosed mental illness to be disturbing, shameful, embarrassing. I find it...relieving. Yes, there really is something wrong with me! (Pipe down over there, peanut gallery!) That doesn't mean I'm GLAD there's something wrong and I'm not going to use it as an excuse for bad behavior, but to know that there is something a little off in my brain that causes my mood to cycle up and down, well, it helps. If I'm aware of it, I can have some control over it. I've been working with Dr. E on ways to recognize my mood is going one way or the other and strategies to control it.
Yep. That's right. I said control. Dealing with a mental disorder is all about control. I can't control my brain chemicals, but I can control my behavior. I can exercise, I can have a routine, I can have a bedtime, I can limit alcohol, I can take a sleeping pill when I need it. I can recognize when I'm cycling up or down and not feed into the behaviors that go along with the up and down.
No more dragging out my entire closet onto my bed because I have to clean out my closet today. No more procrastination, which is an off-shoot of perfectionism. No more perfectionism, for that matter.
I wish I could figure out exactly what clicked yesterday. What made me realize my gauge had moved from empty to full? I'm looking around my house, and I'm still seeing my little fires that need to be put out. I'm going over my "to-do" list and there are still things that need to be done. That list will never be empty. Maybe that's what it is. The understanding that I will never get it all done, and it will never be perfect. But I can still get a lot of it done, and I can do my best. Not perfect.
Just...me.
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