Thinking Out Loud

So here I am, upright and alert at 1 am. The upright part is a constant struggle, but the alert part, happens a lot. I told myself I was taking a hiatus from blogging, and I certainly have kept true to that. The problem is, the mind didn’t stop writing. For me, I find myself composing a million entries in my mind, but not having the willpower to physically bother to just type it out. It’s like that is one step too much a lot of the time the past few months. So I lay there and think about things. Religion, politics, the state of my health, family drama, sometimes zombies after watching too much of The Walking Dead. I craft it all out in my head, what I would say, IF I was writing. Telling myself that the therapeutic value of writing is something that I have found helpful in the past, but still, not actually getting up and doing anything about it. So, still in the fashion of not making promises to myself I don’t know if I’ll keep, I sit once more trying to jumpstart the disconnect between my brain and putting it down on paper (or blog as the case may be)

I have been though a lot since I was doing this as a regular thing. My health has been a roller coaster of coming to terms with the way things are and trying to manage life as things get thrown at me. I spent three months recently not eating enough to sustain energy to function, because Gastroparesis decided to take over my body on top of the Rhuematoid Arthritis becoming increasingly hard to manage. Spending days on end fearing and steering away from food, having my joints uncontrollably ache to the point of needing extra assistance walking and surviving in general just sum up a pretty miserable winter by most counts. We have been adjusting to Ken working nights, sleeping days and not quite knowing where I fit into all that. Digging out of financial issues, trying to retain a tether to friendships I haven’t been able to keep up with, and going into a pretty deep depression have dominated all in the past few months. At one point, I just wanted to curl up in the most remote corner of my house, with a blanket and just not think anymore. The freedom of stretching out in bed seemed even too overwhelming some nights. I went off pretty much all my medications and am currently struggling to get back into a regimen that keeps me as functional as possible. I had plenty to be thankful for, yet bringing myself out of the pit was something I just could not seem to undertake. Sometimes its hard to think about the reality that it probably WON’T be the last time I go through this sort of thing. That I just have to keep moving on and letting myself take the time to rest and reorient as needed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

At the moment, we are dealing with the logistics of having our car damaged in a car accident, dealing with insurance and the waiting game of getting our car back. Ken is on his way out the door for two weeks military assignment in Hawaii, which doesn’t include me, and I’m jealous about that. He better look sufficiently sad in every picture he takes, the nerve. I have to mentally and physically prepare to drive up to DC for a few days, mostly to help out my grandmother with some stuff, maybe feel good enough to enjoy a few things while I am there. It certainly helps that the rental SUV we have at the moment, I thoroughly enjoy and I might have to give it back with great sadness when all things car are completed.

In other news I have been craving eggs on my burgers lately, and its kinda been non stop on that end…I want one right now actually. Which reminds me, our oven is broke and I need to call that in.

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It’s Hard Admitting Real Life Behind The Facade.

So it’s been a month since Ken graduated. And things are hard for us. REALLY hard. I’ve never felt this uncertain before. Ken keeps going on positive interviews and then not hearing any news for weeks, or in one case an internal applicant suddenly popped up and got priority over him. Everyone is impressed with his resume, he is a friendly interviewer, AND he has the degree with 12 years experience  there is just so much competition out there apparently. As his wife, I want to just bust into these places and tell them what talent they might miss out on because I used to work with him as a colleague as well, but ……that would be inappropriate. So here we sit, bills piling up, my SSDI case on appeal, no jobs, being bailed out by the greatest family member in my life. And I feel horrible about it.

It’s why I took my friend’s advice and started this therapeutic art thing. Its kinda what’s keeping me  engaged at all with life, even if I’m just focusing on a piece of paper, a pen and the creative side of my mind. It’s working for the anxiety at that moment. That’s also the problem. After that moment is over, it’s anxiety city up in here again, and I start getting manic because its one of my natural actions to anxiety. Either I want to soothe myself with going and playing with the world, money and consequence be damned, or I go into the dark depression where I want to be swallowed into a black hole and ignored by everything with a pulse for days on end. I have anxiety meds, but i really only use one of them at night to sleep. I worry about the other, because I’m just on so much medication for other health issues it kills me to accept one more. I don’t know WHY think the Ativan is less important than the 17 other pills I take (by last count), but something in my subconscious feels its something I can sacrifice.

It doesn’t help much either that Ken will be leaving for a month in a couple weeks for Ft Knox and we are going to be awaiting some more orders for him to be gone another 3 months to Ft Sam in Texas. But hey, its pay right? We are even looking into going back on active duty on the reserve side because a place may be opening up in his current unit, but that is in its baby stages of being worked out right now. Don’t want to jinx it.

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Up Shit’s Creek Without A Paddle.

My cat has conjunctivitis.

I feel like leaving this post just at that sentence alone, because that’s just the overall tone of my week. Everyone is laying around sick trying to give what they have to the next person (or cat). The lethargy in this house is epic. Ken and I have been sprawled out in bean bag chairs in the basement, pretty much just drooling, looking at the TV and willing there to be a magic fairy that would bring us food. And that fairy must know what we want, because we sure as hell didn’t.

I was shown the way into some totally free college courses by major universities this week as well and I’m pretty excited about the prospect, but to be honest, I don’t know how much I can handle at this present moment. I have registered for two classes, and I’m checking out two archived ones, but the commitment terrifies me even though its totally self paced. I haven’t been able to sign on but one night this week and only for like 30 min because of all the sick going around. But I want to share this resource for anyone interested in learning just to continue learning. Some of the programs will give you legit completion certificates at the end, and they will grade you and take your assignments serious as a college course should be taken for an extra small fee. edX.org is the website.

Also I have taken up some stress relieving meditative art. I’m getting into zentangle, which is kinda like creative pattern doodling, where you just make patterns and go with it, creating this wonderful masterpiece as you go. Mine are still on the new and crude side, but the really good ones are truly beautiful works of art.

I really need some stress relief in my life because financial relief isn’t coming soon enough. Ken has been going on interviews and there is good interest shown, but the hiring process potentially takes so long we are drowning in the meantime and have been turned down for every state assistance I have been able to apply for. Losing round 1 of my SSDI case was really a huge blow even though it was a long shot to begin with and I STILL have to appeal that. I don’t know if I have the strength to move on and do it, I’m just broke down right now really. The last thing I want is a legal battle. Just like the last thing I want is an eviction. And both of those are on the table it seems, when you are disabled and no one has any income coming in or help to offer. Things were supposed to get better. College degrees open doors right?

I feel like such a failure at life.

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My First Zentangle

Aside

Are We There Yet?

It’s been awhile eh? (i’m feeling Canadian in honor of my friend Laurie today.)

Move 2014 has been successfully executed. This is mine and Ken’s 8th move since we have been married in all of 5 short years. Between Army duties, deployments, moving, school, health issues and regular marital stuff, our marriage is really really exhausting. I feel like its been an uphill battle the entire 5 years, and I’m with a partner who loves me and who grins the whole way. This move was no different. He put up with my neuroses of starting to pack 6 weeks ahead of time. Though color coding and labeling all the boxes. He helped me purge the extra items for a 15 box donation to Purple Heart. On move day our pep talks went a little like this:

Him: “Deep breaths, we will make it. We are already there!”

Me: “Please don’t punch my dad when he says/does something infuriating.”

Outcome? I didn’t die, and he didn’t punch my dad.

Of course over all the people that came to help were pretty extraordinary to move all our shit that fast and pretty cheerfully at that. I am thankful. After everyone left Ken and I still made another couple truck runs for last min stuff and to clean the house, before we were able to fall down and do nothing last night and survey the disaster that is the new house.

My hips ache. I can barely keep my eyes open and the nausea is pretty constant, and the fibro fog is getting the better of me, but other than that, I came out in one piece. This is going to be a pretty short blog because I am passing out at the computer as I’m typing. I just don’t have it in me to bust out some Pulitzer Prize stuff right now.

If That’s Movin’ Up than I’MMM….Movin’ Out!

Big things have been brewing here at the Woodlands. Ken finally got the call that he would be starting his clinicals at the VA Hospital, starting…..today. We have been waiting for this phone call since the beginning of January and were growing worried he wouldn’t get in and therefore NOT graduate on time. HUGE sigh of relief. On the stressful side this means 10 hour days, and no car for me at home for him to catch up for time lost, but we will take it. Anything to get this done.

However in the same day we also had to make a HUGE decision. Our current lease is almost up so we were sent our lease renewal papers. The new rent was just too high to justify paying for the house we are in and all it’s problems. So we have decided to move, or transfer units. We were lucky enough to get a renovated unit, that while it’s only two bedrooms, it has a basement rec room, so it’s actually a LARGER floor plan for the same amount of base rent that we pay now. Having two furballs though to pay rent for is going to raise our rent uncomfortably, but at this point we have no choice. Until Ken has a steady job, we can’t prove income to move anywhere cheaper. It’s more important than ever I win my disability case.

So we are moving in April, and I’m already obsessively packing and purging. I have a huge donation for Purple Heart, a veteran’s charity, of clothes and household items we really have no need for, and so much of our stuff is getting packed away because it’s just clutter it’s unbelievable. I’m so stressed and excited to have a new house and floor plan to play around with, but I want it to be nice and clean, not overstuffed and cluttered. I’m a minimalist, Ken is the pack rat. My therapist probably thinks I’m a special kind of nuts at this point because to be honest, I’ve been freaking out over the stresses of the possibility of moving since October, and now that it’s actually happening, Ken’s going to have to hold me back from falling over the edge. We have moved 8 times in 5 years, yay Army! , and I’m so moved out I have a complex about it now. So, there might be some moving talk coming up if I forget to take my Ativan.

Peace out.

Dear Fatigue. You suck.

Today I dedicate this post to fatigue. I’ve been entirely too fatigued to post a lot lately. And I use the word fatigued because it’s different than tired. It’s more extreme and when it washes over you it feels different, it presents different, and for me at least it can make me want to pass out right where I stand.

Every few weeks my body switches it’s cycle when it hits. Sometimes it’s once a day, sometimes it’s twice or more times a day. Right now we are at twice or more a day. Which is really inconvenient because it means I have about 2 hours to be productive between spells or I have to push through and hope someone is there to help me though it because it could be dangerous with how foggy my mind becomes, someone to drive me around, make sure I have chairs to sit in, talk me into consciousness the whole time….

I’m also on a whacked out sleep schedule where I go to bed early and wake up several times a night. As of this moment, I’m banging this little whine fest out at 4am because I’m awake and angry about it, and having a moment of exasperation.

Also, winter, and dry heat inside my house can go right to hell too. I’m thankful for heat, don’t get me wrong, but it’s tearing up my nose and sinuses like crazy and anyone living in a dry heat environment knows how awful that can get. I’m there, the worst scenario.

And now I shall take my leave, for the cats are obviously fighting out whose turn it is to watch over mom at the moment, on the bed and need a intervention.

We’re Still Having Fun, And You’re Still the One.

Five years ago today woke up next to my best friend. We got dressed, ate breakfast with my roommate, she went to work like it was just another day. It wasn’t for us however. We proceeded to do the scariest thing I’ve ever done. We went downtown and got married. Yup, just like that. There was a moment of cold feet in the courthouse elevator but other than that the story was short and sweet.

In five years, we have moved 8 times, were separated the first 4 months of our marriage, been though the countless struggles and issues with my illness, craziness of the military, spent almost 3 years as a poor college couple and survived a deployment. I came to realize that though all of this, we have never fought, REALLY fought not even once. Mind blowing. I was raised in an environment where knock down blow out fighting was the norm, and taught that early on and throughout a marriage it was to be expected and for 5 years I’ve been waiting for that ball to drop. I realize now, this warped expectation of relationships has caused me great anxiety when really I have the healthiest relationship right in front of me. We are being our own example and I didn’t even know it.

So, today, I’m still waking up next to my best friend. And we are going to get dressed, eat breakfast, and celebrate today the best thing we ever did in finding each other. Committing to it long term.

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Some of you may remember this, but for those who missed it, here is my wedding story.

I feel like we are that couple that no one ever knows quite what to do with. It’s marvelous. He’s this super nerdy nice guy who’d jump in front of a train for a total stranger…..or a puppy. I’m a headstrong sometimes bitch who will cut you if you dare abuse the niceness of my husband, or try to legislate my uterus, whichever. We were brought together during such outwardly mundane circumstances (work). He was a small town boy (LIVIN’ IN A LONELY WORLD….sing with me!) who joined the military and ran into me, a city girl (WHO TOOK THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN GOING ANY-WHERE!), working at the Pentagon. We clicked, and that’s all she wrote.

Actually, that’s not “all she wrote.” We actually have one hell of a story of an evolving friendship and quite a backstory to go with it that’s led to this incredible thing we rightly and proudly call a not so traditional marriage we have today. (DON’T WORRY INTERNET, IT’S TOTALLY LEGAL AND NOT PERVERSE, AND THERE ARE NO ANIMALS INVOLVED, RAND PAUL).

What I love the most about our story is this: IT’S OURS. Some people know the abbreviated version of events. Our closer friends know more of the intimate details. However, there are only two people on the planet that know some of the most important memories of all involving how everything came to be when we started legally sharing the last name of Woodland, and that’s Ken and I. I intend to keep it that way, because I’m complicated like that.

But I’ll tell you this. Our original wedding rings were purchased by hopping off the Red Line of the Metro at Union station and bought from a street jewelry vendor. We took a cab to the courthouse in Arlington and were legally married in a law office underneath a Jerry’s Subs and Pizza. No one mentioned God, nor did we bear any vows to a religious nature. (Gasp! No! Those Atheists have gone and ruined the sanctity of marriage!) We promptly had 5 shots of Jameson at an Irish bar to celebrate after. There were no witnesses. And I was married in my sneakers. Hell yes. I love the city.

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