Day 244

I need to call an elderly gentleman back named Harry.  I have been putting it off.  He is the husband of a lady who goes to the same PT as I do.  He wants to cheer me on and give me pointers about Graves' disease.  I did not ask him to, but he insists. 

My friend Carrie's cat also has the disease I do.  He too takes Methamazole.  When he doesn't take his, it results in yeowling and the loss of fur.  Apparently, Graves is common in elderly felines.  Really puts things into perspective, doesn't it?  All I have to say is, Meow.

Harry, you don't need to worry.  I can just yeowl with Carrie's cat and life goes on.

I've been fielding questions as to how I am.  In fact, maid of honor extraordinaire T has composed an ode worthy of publication lamenting the loss of words on this blog.  To you my dear friend, I bow in literary lethargy clearly your prose is making mine shamefaced and woebegone.

I am well.  I am really well in an I don't recognize within myself sense of calm.  I don't have to fill pregnant silences with pickle sentences and crunch until I'm sure all is ok.  I can walk the halls of church and be quiet if I want to, speak if I desire.  There isn't the sense of urgency there was.  The crucification of self esteem if I didn't stretch myself into seventeen different directions and if anyone was left alone.  With that mania comes a cost and I had been gladly paying it for...ever.  There's something to be said for the life of the party.  Even if the price is dear-for what goes up must come crashing down.  Now there's not so much north and south, I just hang out around the equator.  Perhaps, there's a question of too much medication and that's possible.  I'm at a triple dosage and it will, according to doc's orders, take a mere 18 months to regulate. 

I miss you, yes you.  Those hearts that speak the language of black squibbles on white paper.  I'm tired of hiding away.  The walls I keep around myself are eroding with time and I'm practicing letting others through.  Sometimes it's easier than others.  K called me.  She does that if she needs and I do the same when I feel it all bubbling up around me.  She was talking and the next thing I knew I was talking and it wasn't easy or pretty and I could not believe the words coming out, that have always been written in my heart and I  told her what I thought about her situation and as I gasped for breath at the end of my tirade, I wondered if I would be on the do not call list anytime soon.

I felt the need to apologize, not because I had been mean in anyway, but because I had spoken truth...my truth if you will.  I had never done that and I felt the loss of control keenly.  I called her the other night and the first thing she did was thank me and tell me it was about time that I said what I was thinking, feeling.  I realize that I do do that, but only in writing and very rarely verbally.  She said she's been waiting years for the two to somehow connect.  Suddenly all the things I should have said but didn't flooded my memory.  Maybe it's ok if I often write them out instead.  I can measure my fingers a great deal more than my tongue. 

Still, she's not the first who's told me this.  And as I am always up for a challenge, I have pondered her words.  I'm not living up to who I am if I'm whitewashing walls wherever I go.  That's not why anyone calls or reads or counts on, at least not from me. 

Day 243

Hi.  So, in a twist of fate, my reaching farther and going the distance turned out to be not in the cards.  I have been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called Graves.  It's a thyroid disorder, hereditary and all that jazz.  I've been stopped in my tracks for the past six weeks.  The doc believes I've had it for a long time, but due to my be-all do-all attitude, things came to a head and all my symptoms came crashing down around me.

I sometimes dream about writing.  My ability to focus is not sharp right now and so I haven't attemped more than thank you notes to the army of friends who make it their business to serve me.  I have no pride left.  There is nothing to hide behind.  My house is what it is.  Friends visit and I call to them to visit me as I lie down to catch another nap. 

I have quit everything except mothering and my calling.  I know there are amazing activities going on around me, or actually not really, since I often plan said activies.  Games nights?  Not happening.  Girls night?  Used to happen.  Weekend away?  Oh, I dream of this.  Once T got a job, I thought OK, but who wants to get away with someone who can't stop shaking like a leaf?

I sound pessemistic and cryptic.  I don't mean to.  I'm actually very happy, grateful for what I believe is yet another piece in the healing process.  I meet with the Endocronologist on Monday and I hope that it gets the ball rolling.  I can't go back to how I was.  I used keeping busy as a crutch, I think.  Since slowing way way down, to a slug really, here's what I've noticed...my ability to receive and act on inspiration has increased.  There's not all the pressure.  I'm not saying sit on a couch all day, but it's been interesting to see what being quiet and thoughtful can accomplish, even if the ability to concentrate will hopefully be enhanced by some thyroid medication.

So, this is where I am.  T writes every day and is almost finished with his novel.  I'm proud of him. 

Day 242

I threw T a surprise 40th birthday party this weekend.  I hadn't done this since his 25th.  I read his journal again (don't  judge me) the other night just because he is better keeping up on his, apparently I have no boundaries, and I like to reminisce about easier lighter days.  Fifteen years ago I threw one humdinger of a party and sent out witty, personal invites and was still rather gaga over it all.  Fast forward to now, and it seemed like a means to an end.  I needed to do it.  I needed him to know he is on my radar, that through the craziness that is reality right now, I acknowledge the passing of time, of his time, stuck with me as he is.  I have alluded, let's face it, bluntly stated how hard our marriage sometimes is.  He is gone now, living out his days as is his role and it has been easier than I anticipated...still, when I am alone commuting yet again to the other city I frequent so often, I miss picking up the phone and having him there just because he always was-is.

The thought of starting my new "old"  job again this Thursday is terrifying to me if I let it be.  It is so growth inducing to be so out of my element in so many ways and if I let my boss-mentor-friend down I will take it to heart very deeply.  She expects me to be on top of my game, as well she should, but in my weaker moments, I doubt my ability.  This is where I am.  Trying to find some self confidence.  Let's face it, I have often thought I have been rather clever in hiding it, but the truth clings to me in violet hues.  I find the need to downgrade the play I have written to "cheesy" just to save face.   The fact is, I like it, it conveys the message it needs to, and I laugh out loud sometimes as the actor's deliver their lines, but I realize that unlike a short story or novel, the words are up on a stage for others to critique.  Once again, this is good for me.

That's the thing.  I dig my heels in a little bit, but I don't stop.  I cannot be content to not reach further.  I have lived a life before that has been too much in what I thought was my comfort zone and it is anxiety riddled and is not who I am, nor who I was born to be.  There has been too much time in which through pain I have reacted to life instead of acting first.  I have to look fear in the face and then walk through it until I am not afraid anymore.   And I have just begun...

Day 241

T got a job offer today.  Lots of travel, but that will probably be good for me.  As of now, I depend on him a lot.  Like living under my level of strength dependence.  I think that's because I was hurt for so long and then he's been home forever.  Whatever the reason, it will be hard on me the first little while to not have him here.  Now, I suppose I could go the other way and throw wild parties and serve the kids cake for dinner just because I can...

I know my reaction today should have been wild relief, rejoicing, a chicken dance, anything really, but instead I feel raw, bruised, unsure, suspicious even.  Will it work out?  Will we find ourselves in this same position again and if so, what is the answer?   At that point, do we crumble up and give up?  Don't go all worried about me, we are a scrappy pair, fiercely holding on, holding up, but still there's a limit, isn't there?

This whole stream of consciousness writing thing makes my grammar even more abysmal than usual.  I have been listening to Ben Folds song "You Don't Know Me"  with Regina Spektor about 47 times.  Once I love a song, I listen to it until it's crumbled to dust.  I love me a man with a piano and clever writing slays me.   I want to take piano lessons again.  My real wish would be to take cello, but I will have to wait until the resurrection since that would put my healing backwards by a mile.  I want to take ballet or some sort of dance class too.  

As this is a writing blog, I'm trying to come up with some sort of extravaganza for a RS enrichment night in February.  My dream was a to write a play, but since I haven't started yet, we'll see how it all goes.  I will write something.  And then let's pray it's any good.

Day 240

 I've had a fever the past few days and I've felt calmer than I have...ever.  I like it. 
Little C has a loose tooth.  What the?  She's 4.
Today I got offered my job on Thursdays back.  Turns out they miss me...
T and I have been holding our breath.  Hopefully I will have news to share about that soon.
Yesterday I had 8 kids running around my house.  Due to aforementioned fever, I felt calm about it.
They all like C's new ping pong table.  Party house for the winter months?
Today I pried out a paper jam in my boss's shredder w/ a serving fork. That will look great on a resume.
How do I spell resume(e)?

T's favorite group right now is Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.  One song is about having a boyfriend who treats her poorly.  Little C finished brushing her teeth tonight and told me, "Mom, if my boyfriend ever does that to me, I'm gonna walk away and find a new boyfriend."  

I absolutely believe her.  I may be the Fire Woman, but that girl blows me out of the water. 

Day 238

There are a closet full of presents for the children.  Each one wrapped and labeled and brought over by angels who which to remain anonymous.  I mean four garbage bags full of presents.  There is also a Christmas tree in my front room that was dropped off on our porch.  A check in the mail, a Thanksgiving feast.  All I know to do is say is Thank You.  I have an idea where some of it may have came from, but the thing about giving anonymously is that it's usually in poor form to rush up to someone and shout, "I know its you!!"  So, I thank God for you.  I bless you in your life and I will try to live my life and serve wherever I can (though not monetarily right now) in some sort of pay it forward.  I guess I am lucky.  I know how to give and I am learning (it's hard sometimes) how to receive.

C won his geography bee at school.  I don't mean his class, I don't mean his grade.  I mean that he is the top student of his entire school.  He beat out 8th graders, 7th, 6th, 5th and 4th.  He was the last man standing and has two gold medals to add to his ever growing collection.  He takes a test now to qualify for the state finals.  Do you remember last year?  He was out in the first round.  His only goal this year was to not be the first one out.  He kept going...and going...and going...and going.  It was a tender mercy for our family.  So stressful, so huddled together, and this?  We are joyful at his exuberance.  I always wondered if he would ultimately be school champion, but I had no idea it would be in his fifth grade year.  

Have I been writing?  Why yes, yes I have.  I received my first paycheck as a copywriter for concepts I helped with for a major company.  I will not name them here on this blog, but I admit I cried with happiness as I received the check.  I LOVE coming up with concepts and to have gotten paid for it is beyond comprehension.  I can do the creative thing.  The portfolio thing and the marketing thing, I am in way over my head.  But I CAN do the creative thing.  I hope and pray to have other opportunities to do this very thing.  Writing lights me up.  Being creative lights me up.  Marrying the two together?  Magic.

Last but not least.  Little C called my friend M who had promised to come to our house to watch her sing and dance the "Angle Song."  M came right over and sat for over 1/2 an hr. watching my daughter sing and dance her heart out.   Little C threw her arms around her neck and told her they need to hang out again.  There have been very few times I have ever seen my daughter that happy.  Isn't the Lord great?  These moments of joy eclipse any heartache. 

Day 237

It's cold down where we have our computer now.  T's office is in the basement just until he finds a job and I shiver as I write this.  I received an ultimatum from my work yesterday:  40 hours a week or no job.  To the world it makes no sense.  T doesn't have a job.  I have an opportunity for full time and I'm not going to take it because I'm not going to leave my kids.  So, no more unlimited free classes or discounted PT stuff.  I know it will be ok.  I am telling myself that another opportunity will open or a way to keep healing will present itself. 

I still work for the doctor.  Maybe I could get more hours with her to now pay for all the PT I still need.  It was a blow.  I felt like I was fired.  Maybe I was.  I've never been fired before.  Maybe this is so I will know how T feels.  Today I just huddled on the couch.  I made like 17 hair bows for little C.  I put on movies and gathered myself together.  Tomorrow I will do what needs to be done and the next day, but nothing is in my control anymore.   Except my will.  See, now I write this and intellectually agree, and yet my body is in knots.  I can feel my shoulders hunch like they do when I am stressed.  I'm having trouble sleeping.  It's funny.  I feel so blessed and I feel the storm all at the same time.  I guess it's just like Paul says:  I know how to abound and how to be abased.  I know how to be filled and to suffer need all at the same time.  Trust me when I tell you, that this scripture has taken on new meaning for me.  No matter the blessings, no matter the opportunities to see miracle, the trial must be there to continue the growth.  There is no joy without adversity.  Always when I wish this would end, I think and then what?  Can I finally be happy when T gets a job?  When I publish something?  When my son has no problems?  What then?  When there is nothing to strive for, what then?  It cannot be.  There must be opposition in all things.  Ouch, though.