Reacting wrong

The year 2020 really sucked!

It is the day before Christmas Eve 2020 and I am really trying to be optimistic, but life has been making it really hard.  While I am fully aware that I am not the only passenger on the miserable ride of 2020, and I am certain that what has happened this year is not about me while I feel otherwise....  I have one major flaw.  I react poorly to bad news.

When it comes to bad news, my reaction teeters between childish/petulant and a 2.0 version of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.... far more annoying with the negative undertones.  Of course, I am firmly believing that it really does not matter what I do/react to because I manage to drive DH nuts.  I have been told that I just cannot dial in or dial back my reaction properly.

This whole pandemic was the catalyst, to what I believe is the worst year ever.  Sure, there are some silver linings here and there that I managed to find, but believe me.... it took some serious effort to find it.  Our financial strain has been non stop since 2008 and the moment we were starting to see a little above the red line... WHAM! Smashed down under again!  I held off seeing the doctor as long as I could and because I am (cough cough) 52 years old, I finally decided to focus on my health for once.  Little did I know that unleashing the testing hounds would result in being diagnosed type 2 diabetic and all the fun pokes, prods and tests that would follow.  Colonoscopy resulted in finding 5 polyps and a request to repeat that miserable test in 5 years instead of 10.  Getting the diagnosis of Eosinophilic gastritis requires a daily pill I hate swallowing to go with the other 3 I take for my diabetes.  Restricted diet is not easy to follow when DH has such a picky palate and is the key holder to the food budget.  What I thought was a silver lining with managing to lose 60 pounds over the past 10 months became overshadowed with the demand from my doctor to lose another 50 pounds. I have managed to lose an extra 12 pounds, so 38 more pounds to go!  Starting to look like a shrinky-dink that didn't shrink properly.  Darn getting older does not allow excess skin to shrink back.  Lucky me that I look better in clothes, but I will never look good in a swimsuit....  I guess the lighter weight might keep my spine from degenerating more than it is now.  Sadly, I knew that losing weight does bring on other issues, because really, this is not my first time trying.  Last time I lost weight, I had dental issues that resulted in getting a second root canal done on a tooth to remove the elusive extra nerve the dentist missed the first round and I also got my gall bladder removed.  This time, I am staring down the barrel of getting that darn 2-time-root-canal tooth removed because it broke off at the gum line on a banana (of all things!), and have a tooth next to it removed because a different dentist misaligned a crown and left a gap in a tight space to get a cavity that is traveling down to the root.  Then, I get to spend roughly $3,000 on a partial denture so I can chew food.  Money I don't have and haven't had access to since the Obama legislation!  With all of this going on, my mom passes away and I mentally broke from the sadness.  The clients that I have at the salon, (the ones that came back after reopening during the pandemic that is still not over), have noticed that I am not the same person.  The once chatty gal is struggling to carry a conversation.  Of course, the panic attacks of working with a mask on for hours on end does not help matters much.

Of course, I am taking it personally about the things happening at home.  My printer broke and my reaction set DH into a frenzy that I need to "get a grip".  Then, the dryer breaks and DH was not thrilled to spend money we don't have on a new one, but did once he saw how much money is costs to go to the laundromat every week. Then, there was the broken maple tree in the back yard.  About 1/4th of it snapped and was wedged into the oak tree, and just between the trees are the power lines to the house.  Total hazard!  Only took several estimates for DH to pick someone to take the tree down (the tree was actually cracked all the way to the trunk and was also a threat to hitting the house), and 6 weeks for ComEd to come to cut the power so the tree can be taken down safely.  A little under $3,000 for that experience (including trimming the oak tree).  Money we don't have, yet again being spent.  I am still waiting for the water damage in my kitchen to be handled, but our homeowners insurance denied the claim and.... yep.... we don't have the money to fix it.  Luckily, DH did manage to fix the issue that created the water issue in the first place. It is just replacing what is damaged that needs to be done.

Now, there is only one thing I was allowed to react poorly to this year and that is the loss of my mom.  Well, I was allowed to react as I felt fit for a little while.  Then, I was reminded that while it is okay to grieve, it is also important to keep living.

As this year has been filled with challenges and difficulties, I did the best I could to try to find a "silver lining" in all this doom and gloom.  My biggest blessings are my grandsons.  Yep, I have 2 grandsons now.  Both were surprise pregnancies for DD, but she and her fiancé are finally getting the horse in the right place to the cart with getting married soon.  They wanted to save up for a traditional church wedding, but with 2 little ones to tend to.... a courthouse wedding will have to do.  Something else with a celebration to follow will happen at a later date.  I am thankful that everyone in my house (DH, DD, her fiancé, the grandkids, and the family dog), myself included, are relatively healthy and safe while a pandemic rages all around.  A couple of my mom's cookbooks from her expansive library have produced some diabetic friendly meals that the picky eating committee (aka DH) enjoys.  I am blessed to have a stronger connection with my siblings during this year of loss and I pray it stays strong.  I have no doubt that my parents are smiling from heaven with the knowledge that their kids are finally getting along.

So, with the chapter of the year 2020 nearing it's close, I pray that 2021 is far better than what 2020 has offered.  Thanks for letting me share my thoughts today and I hope you all have a blessed holiday and better 2021...  

Letters to Mom

I made the announcement that I would start blogging again and I knew I had to take some time to think long and hard as to what I would decide to share.  Trust me, it has been really hard to unleash the blogging beast after such a long break.  What I failed to mention was that I did something I even harder than typing my feelings for those who choose to read my blog just last month.  I wrote my first eulogy.

I think the dent in my forehead from bashing it on the table, trying to find the right words to write that eulogy, has finally healed.  Now, I suffer writer's block something fierce.  You see, that eulogy was for my mom that passed away on Saturday, August 8, 2020.

Now, as over a month has passed, I did my best to go through the grieving period.  Most of my crying happened, in secret, while my mom was in the hospital, then in a nursing home, back to the hospital, back to the nursing home, and while she was in hospice.  All this happened in roughly a month, during a pandemic, nonetheless.  I did my bet to hold it together for those around me, but my family saw the strain and pain I felt.  I tried to hide reading books, playing games on my Kindle, and a few times I spent praying at my father's grave for strength.  Because of the pandemic, visiting my mom was not exactly allowed.  That is, when she was placed in hospice, we were allowed to visit her, but with the restrictions, it was a process.  I can at least admit that while it was really hard to see my mom in her final stages, I did get to see her a couple times before the call came that she passed.  One day, I call "the bad day:, and the other "the good day".

The first day my mom was placed in hospice, I was called at work.  Having a light day and basically done with my clients for the day, I raced out of work to go see her.  Being told that my siblings would understand if I didn't go see her, I knew deep in my heart I had to.  That day, was the bad day.  She was sedated, confused... and a little detached from her surroundings. She couldn't speak.  Her beautiful blue eyes looked almost translucent in color, and a tear formed in the corner of her eye.  I was not sure if she even recognized me.  Seeing her like that nearly killed me.  I did my best to not cry and talked to her.  All I remember saying is that I loved her and that everything is going to be okay.  I ran from that room crying all the way back to my car, and sat there crying for a good half hour.  Once I calmed down, I went and saw my brother for a bit, then I went home.

The second day of hospice, I was not all that certain I could return there alone.  I didn't know if I was strong enough to see my mom again.  I called my brother to see how he was doing and he got a call from my older sister, telling him that mom was alert and talkative.  Shocked to hear this, but thrilled to go see her, I raced back to the nursing home to see for myself.  To my relief and surprise, my mom looked great.  We had a good talk and I managed to get out what I needed to say about how much I loved her, to tell her I am sorry that I failed her as a daughter.  I should have done more for her instead of pushing her to do more for herself.  While I admitted that I have always seen her as a strong and capable woman, I should have listened more to her truth than brushed it off like I did for so long. She said she forgave me and loved me.  She reminded me that she is proud and loves all her kids no matter what.  We talked about my daughter, my grandson, and my husband.  She asked about work, and our conversation fell back into what we usually did.  She told me she wanted to go home and I said she would, knowing that was not going to be the case made me feel sick to my stomach, but deep down I had hope that would happen.  I noticed her looking tired, so I told her I loved her one more time for good measure and said I would be back the next day.  That was the good day.

The next two days that followed were bad days and I couldn't bring myself to have my last memory of her be from the bad days, so I didn't go.  She passed away the next morning.

Knowing that blogging would help with the grieving process, I hemmed and hawed over what I would blog about.  I had too much and too little to share.  My panic attacks came back with a vengeance.  With those attacks, I tend to do one of two things... I shut up or I shut down.  I have done both.

I announced on social media that I would start blogging again and started to think of what I should blog about and this one thought came to mind.... Letters to Mom.  You see, the first thing about losing a parent is the inability to have a conversation with them anymore.  That daily phone call.  Sometimes I would do the dialing and others... she would do the dialing.  I could easily dial up her number, but she is not there to pick up anymore and that just hurts.  With the eulogy that I wrote for her, I felt I said all that I could have said, but there are some times it would be so wonderful to still have a conversation with her.  I know prayer can do that, but I wanted to do something more.  Maybe it will help squash the panic attacks, maybe it will let me share what I would say if she was here to show you the relationship I had with my mom, but without her "nothing held back opinions", it will definitely fall short.  so here goes....

Hi Mom,

I bought a journal the other day.  I know, I know... that crackpot of a therapist didn't help with finding how to stop the panic attacks, but maybe she had something right.  Maybe, if I write you letters about how I am feeling, then maybe I can crack the code to jam those damn feelings of that I am going to die at any given moment back into the box of things to stop fretting about.  I know it is a tall order to do that, but I am at least going to try.  So here goes.

Let's start with the obvious.  I feel a little lost since you have been gone.  I also became a little curious about life and started reading the bible.  I am not that far into reading it, but I am willing to take some time from my day to read a little.  I guess I am trying to find solace in my faith that life does go on.  Since I had a talk with my priest all those years ago, I am still grasping that while faith is blind, it is that faith that allows me to believe that God does have a plan for everyone.  Including me.  Doesn't give much to ease my mind not knowing what is going to happen to me.  Nor does it give me peace to take comfort that when my time comes that it doesn't leave me feeling like I missed something, or left something behind that causes pain to those I left behind.  Sure, my brother, my sisters and myself are handling things fine in your absence, but that is because you taught us to move forward.  Heck, sometimes you pushed us forward against our will.  You were a great teacher.  I am not all that certain that I managed to follow your footsteps for my daughter.  Maybe you could give me a guiding hand sometime?  That is, if you feel compelled to do so.  Since I gather that Heaven is all that we have been told it is to be.  I guess that is why I am turning to reading the bible.  To understand what God has for us and also be thankful for his son and his sacrifices to make that happen.

Work has been slow lately.  Not sure if it is the hype of rushing through the doors dying down or if the fact that the economy tanked that is killing business, but I have had a little more free time on my hands lately,  Oh, and if you offered a little help to push our circa 1970 Maytag dryer to pasture?  Thanks!  You knew I wouldn't see a new appliance in this house until all attempts of fixing it fails.  Looking forward to the new Maytag dryer to be delivered at the end of the month.  As for now?  I have to go to the laundromat.  Kind of a pain in the tush to do that, but when laundry needs to be done... it gets done.

Well, that is all I have time for today.  DH is home for lunch and I have a doctor's appointment.

 I miss you mom...

Thanks for reading.   

They say I am, but I say I am not..... or am I?

There are some days I feel that there is a huge target on my back, telling people to kick me down.  I am not all that certain why I feel this way, but I have noticed a pattern I need to break or I will become another statistic.  Trust me, what I mean by "statistic" is just another person labeled depressed.  Not suicidal.  Thus today's blog.

I fully understand that people can get depressed from time to time.  That feeling of being "down in the dumps" is what comes to mind.  As described in multiple viewings of what depression is, I believe that everyone is depressed from time to time.  That lack of desire to do things once enjoyed seems to be the main component in deciphering if you are depressed or not.  Of course, there are the feelings of worthlessness, the desire to stay in bed, crying jags, weight gain/loss, and as I could go on and on with the other factors considered, I would like to try to explain how I am feeling.  Obviously, with hopes that I can get out of this "funk" I have been in for quite a while.

On the surface, I am a happy person with a sense of humor.  A sarcastic one at that.  This is what I allow people to see.  Unbeknownst to everyone, I feel trapped, silenced into submission that my fears, my sadness, my frustrations hold zero validity in being discussed with anyone.  Especially, those I have chosen to share my deepest feelings.

As I tend to be more of an empathetic soul, I tend to do more and ask less.  A problem solver that strives to make people feel better and be happier.  Case in point, my husband.  While I am aware that my husband is just like me (happy on the outside, troubled on the inside), he has managed to break free from the crushing feeling by talking to me about his feelings.  Sometimes, I try to offer some sage advice that I have been given, but he shuts me out.  A recent complaint about work had me figuratively swatted on my nose with a newspaper when I offered my opinion.  I was only trying to offer a different perspective to diffuse the situation, but I have been told that it is "none of my business", and "I have no clue what I am talking about".  I can only gather that he wanted to vent and did not ask for help from me, but it was done in a manner of which I believed he wanted feedback, empathy, or to bounce around some ideas to fix the problem.  The backlash I received was just another notch in the feeling of worthlessness column.

Being aware that people can be stressed at times, I tend to try to help where help is not asked for.  Case in point, my daughter.  She happens to have a lot on her plate with being a young mom, a part time college student and a part time worker at a local grocery store.  Being as smart as she is, she is in some difficult classes that have high expectations.  All I was trying to do was help her be more organized so it would be easier for her when it comes to the demands of time constraints.  Running around, looking for things only adds more stress to a stressful situation.  Being organized is a way to keep chaos in check and offer a little comfort of the mind that you know where everything is.  From planning the next day the night before makes a smoother flow of the day, thus not frazzling your nerves trying to figure out simple things like what to wear, to what to pack for lunch, to having all the necessary papers for class.  The only rule that ever stuck with her was to get homework done when you get home and then do other things more fun afterwards.  At least, your time is better managed that you are not up all night or scrambling to get the assignments done in the morning they are due.  While my daughter is a lot like me, she is just as confrontational as her father when I try to help.  Is it wrong for a mother to offer helpful hints when everything seems so crazy?  As she is a sensitive soul, like me, she seems to be so sensitive that she shuts me out of having real conversations.  Yet again, another notch in feeling worthless.

Not trying to place blame on anyone, but there are times I feel the need to talk.  I have concerns that are real to me, but in the eyes of others, they are nothing but nuisances and stuff I just need to "get over".  In fact, I am accused to being constantly plagued with things I need to "get over".  That feeling that I am drowning in anxious thoughts, and disappointment. 

This past year has been filled with doctor appointments and tests.  Tests that I have avoided for a while.  Turning 50 has not felt like the new 30's as some people like to claim.  Especially for women.  Between the annual mammogram, pap smear, and physical, you would think that is enough for a person, but once 50 rolls around, there are bone density tests, eye exams, colonoscopies, endoscopes, EKG's, and so on.  Feeling 10 feet tall and bulletproof stops when your mortality rests upon preventative tests to stay alive.  Fear of the "C - word" takes center stage.  We all would like to remain blissfully unaware of our demise, but there are some that are better than others at dealing with mortality fears than others.  I am not one of them.  Just the thought of what may or may not happen plagues me daily.  Some days, it is fairly easy to brush these fears off, but there are some days I really need someone to talk me down from the figurative ledge.  This is where I feel lost because when I reach out for someone to talk to about my fears, I am ridiculed for my feelings.  I am told that everyone doesn't need to hear how I am feeling.  Nobody cares that I feel like I am about to jump out of my skin in fear.  That everyone else made it through whatever I went through just fine.  That worrying about the "what ifs" and the "what could be's" is a waste of energy.  To just "get over myself" and forget that grain of sand in my path.  Just so you know... grains of sand do accumulate if there is nothing to stop them from accumulating.

As I would like to share a little more thought, I hear DH getting restless.  It is grocery shopping day and I need to get the list made and the planned meals of the week approved by the PEPIMHC (Picky Eating People In My House Committee).  If you are interested in reading more of this topic and my hopeful finding of a solution... stay tuned.  I will write more later.

Does a healthy mind really make a healthy body?

I was a thin gal once.  It took me until my teenage years to get there, but I was thin once.  What I found interesting back then was all I had to do was move more than most to get there.  You see, back then, I was able to eat candy and ride my bicycle for miles and managed to lose weight.  I guess it was the “move more” movement that worked for me, but once I got my drivers license, I resorted to eating less… way less to stay thin through the rest of my teenage years.  Little did I know that I would go down a very long spiral into becoming a stress eater with high expectations that being on a diet for a week would be the answer I need to get thin again.  Adulthood really let me down when I worked in an office and sat most of the day.  When I worked in the salon, I was on my feet.  There has never been a balance to consider as my age went up with my waistline.  The moment I fully landed in obesity city is when I was pregnant with my daughter.  Probably didn’t help that I waited until I hit my 30’s to become a mother, but having my daughter was worth it.  I sadly was complacent in overweight-ville for far too long and lost focus.

 

Believe me, I tried dieting to lose the weight, but there were so many roadblocks that set me up for failure.  I tried Jenny Craig and managed to lose a few pounds, but could not see myself eating Jenny Craig approved TV dinners for the rest of my life.  I had heard of some people succeeding, but would land back in obese city once they were left to their own devises to maintain that goal weight.  Sure, there were some that probably won the battle and stayed a winner, but I have no doubt that there were just as many that fell off the goal weight pedestal they worked at getting to.  I had tried Weight Watchers…. Twice!  I did well my first round with losing 45 pounds, but hit the brick wall of a plateau that had me quit.  I figured that once the scale budged more than a tenth of a pound, I would jump back on the food Nazi bandwagon and get to my goal.  It was nice to have anything I wanted to eat and maintain my weight, but lost focus and my weight skyrocketed before I could stop it.  I went back to Weight Watchers to try again, but their program changed in a way that I couldn’t meet that important weight loss goal of 10% of my body weight.  It was like my body decided that losing weight was a bad thing and held tightly to every fat cell that resided inside me.  It was a plateau situation all over again!  Only, I managed to lose 15 pounds and not the 45 I once lost before.

With even more weight to lose compared to the first time on Weight Watchers, I decided that after a year of no changes on the scale, I decided to go on the journey alone.  At least my wallet got a break.  That monthly fee to sit in meetings and be told it is bad to eat like normal people when it came to celebrations and eating out with friends.  That constant nagging need to figure if I could spare the points for my day to have a piece of cake at the birthday party or a few chips with salsa for a snack.  Heck, trying to figure out how many points it is for the salad dressing at the restaurant was giving me a migraine.  I understand that things should hold a value, but every bleeping crumb that passed my lips was getting to be a bit tiresome.  Then, let’s not forget the activity points you can earn.  Gee, was shoveling the driveway of snow for an hour a high intensity exercise with more points I can eat?  Or was my shoveling of the snow for an hour a low intensity activity because I didn’t throw out my back?  I was truly starting to believe that I lacked the ability to decide for myself anymore, but I at least figured that if I ate less carbs and ate more lean meats with vegetables and fruit, something will happen.

For the next couple years, I thought I had my eating all figured out, but then the evil beast all women call Menopause came knocking on my door.  The hot flashes, the mood swings, the night sweats and the itchy skin came to play and they brought the most unwelcome friend to the party…. Weight gain.  That beast thwarted every attempt I made to lose weight.  Sure, I had a moment that proved promising and that was drowning myself in drinking only water.  Sadly, I was not aware that too much of a good thing can potentially kill you when your sodium levels drop and you almost pass out doing ordinary tasks around the house, but I did lose 10 pounds.  With a little tweaking, I got myself back to feeling normal again, but it took me gaining those 10 pounds I lost.

I had accepted my fate and my body decided that I am meant to be obese.  That is when something changed inside me.  I started losing weight!  Albeit, it was not much.  A pound or two here and there, but there was progress.  I recall going to the doctor and was told to step on that blasted scale, only to find that I was down 4 pounds!  It is not anything monumental in the eyes of my doctor, but it was a welcome surprise to me!  I started thinking long and hard as to how this happened and came to the conclusion that my daily taking of a multivitamin was the step in the right direction.  Sure, I took vitamins while on all those diets and restrictive eating plans I tried over the years, but this just seemed…. Different.  It was not some disgusting horse-pill sized daily vitamin that got stuck in my throat every day.  It was a chew-able gummy vitamin that tasted like candy to me.  Made taking vitamins so much easier and I actually look forward to taking them.  I also added a probiotic gummy that has prebiotics for digestive health.  It was like getting candy for an after breakfast treat!  With taking vitamins daily now, I noticed that I am not painfully sick in the fall and winter like I have been, and it has become easier to eat in moderation.  Of course, eating in moderation has been something I always worked on, but there have been times I would take a second helping without thinking much of it.

Another thing I noticed is that my family life has changed.  I became a grandma almost a year ago and with the additional mouth to feed and the budget to maintain, I went into what I call the martyr mode of eating.  I made sure that everyone had enough to eat before I even think of having seconds of anything (and that included vegetables), and I always make my portions small to start.  Noticing that being satiated was enough and getting stuffed only made me want to throw up.  Along with the change in eating, I was moving more because I had more cleaning set before me.  I have noticed that I am okay with snacking here and there, but even that has improved.  I am not denying myself anything and it is so freeing from all those years of counting calories, points, and whatnot while forcing a diet on myself.

Sure, there are times I do not see those big changes on the scale, but every pound matters.  The last time I stepped on the scale for my official total, I was down a total of 41 pounds!  Of course, there are times the number on the scale goes the wrong way, or no way at all, but I remind myself that getting upset only pushes me to give up hope.  I am losing this weight for myself and nobody else.  I have a goal weight in mind and I remind myself that it will take time.  That there are obstacles everywhere, but if I appreciate the progress and not beat myself on the setbacks, I believe that there is hope that I can get there.  Not in the time-frame that I would like to have, but in the time-frame that my body allows it… it will happen.  It boils down to having a little self-love and a whole lot of patience.

Just recently, a client that has not seen me in months came in to get her hair done.  As I walked up to greet her, she gave me the compliment that I needed to hear… “WOW! You lost weight!  I almost didn’t recognize you!!”  Just knowing that people can see the change means a lot to me.  It validates the progress that I have made and is peeling away the pounds that were hiding the person inside.  The person I am proud of.  As long as I remain positive in my efforts and strive to keep trying.... I will get there.

So, in conclusion.... Does a healthy mind make a healthy body?  I think it does.

Thanks for reading and have a great day!