So I pretty much had the craziest Monday of my life. It was long, involved, looooong, and there was a great deal of pain present, not just mine. Here's what went down…

I had an appointment scheduled with a pain clinic for 8:30 am on Monday. I couldn't get anyone else to drive me, so M left the ren faire she was working early Sunday evening to crash on our couch and drive me up early Monday morning.

3:30 am-- We hit the road in C's truck. M is driving while I am filling out the 27 pages of New Patient paperwork I printed out the night before. (I never got a packet in the mail.) A few hours later, I doze intermittently while M keeps driving.

6:30 am-- I snap awake in time to scream as M slams on the brakes and hits the car in front of us. Traffic just kind of… stopped… but we didn't. At least, not in time. The car in front of us was pushed into the car in front of them, and was totaled. The car at the far front just had a little bit of a smashed bumper, and they were able to drive away. M was injured in the accident with soft tissue damage to her wrist and ankle but refused treatment because she had to get me to my pain doc appointment. She helped me to mix up my emergency steroid shot and I stabbed myself in the leg for the injection, to avoid going into adrenal shock. An hour and a half of procedures and such later, I took over driving the now snub-nosed truck and we made it to the pain clinic with 15 minutes to spare.

8:15 am-- The secretary has no record of me in their system, and insists that I have no appointment with them. I am devastated, baffled, and slightly upset as they were the ones that called me to set up the appointment. We go outside and I proceed to fall apart emotionally. It's now been about 12 hours since my last pain killer (which was only 1/2 of one since I had been on half-doses that week, trying to make them stretch), and I have no option for getting more. M has an idea, and we pull up the phone number of the pain clinic that the neuros initially referred me to but had turned me away, and sure enough… I took us to the wrong place. It's now time for my appointment, and we're 1.5 hours away. They agree to try to fit me in at some point in the day, and we jump in the truck and book it over there. (In my defense, I have been drugged up on sleeping pills the past week and a half-ish, and the difference between Arizona Pain Institute and Arizona Pain Specialists really isn't that great. I think my confusion is justifiable.)

12:30 pm-- I'm now laying on the floor of the pain clinic, since I can't handle being upright any longer. They take me back to a room so I can lay on a bed thingy at least while I wait for the doctor, and I finally break down into tears from the pain. The nurse comes in, takes my vitals and information, and not too long after the doc comes in. It was a good appointment, and he takes me seriously. He is really happy to hear what rheum I am seeing and says that he's one of the best. He feels that there is something systemic, possibly autoimmune, that is causing the scope and severity of my pain beyond just fibro. (Finally, a doctor that agrees with me!!!) He prescribes me my regular pain killers along with aqua therapy, but I have to pass a urine test before I get my prescription. Makes sense. I make it to the bathroom before throwing up from pain, but then realize that they gave me the sample cup for some other woman. They bring the the right cup, I make it to the bathroom before throwing up (again), and pass my urine test. Sign a contract for responsible usage, get my script, and hit the road in search of a pharmacy.

???? pm-- The CVS down the street doesn't have the meds I need, but they suggest the Walgreens across the street. We get over there, they have the meds, but it'll be like, 30 minutes. While we wait, we fill up the gas tank and hit the Starbuck's for some tea (me) and coffee (M). Keep in mind that M is damaged this whole time, and is getting increasingly stiffer and sorer from the accident. She's still driving me around like a champ, though, limping along beside me and my walker, and even pushing me once or twice. I can barely walk at this point, and my pain has been at a 9+ for hours. I've only cried a little since leaving the doctor's office, but it's getting harder and harder to handle my pain.

As M is getting in the truck after pumping gas, we're approached by some white guy who claims that he's a Marine and served _____ places for ______ months and has $1600 in a bank account, but the bank doesn't have any branches around here and he's going to get it transferred to his wife's Wells Fargo account tomorrow but he doesn't have any money today and he needs to get gas in his car so he can go pick up his four year old daughter from daycare and they charge $20 for every 30 minutes you're late and can we spare some money to help him and he'll even give us his driver's license to hold until he pays us back? I say no, M says no, and he begins to protest. We tell him we don't live here, we're leaving in a few minutes, and he asks if we have an address he can send it to? I'm just like, "Nah, bro. We can't help you. No." He gives up and goes away, and M and I talk about all the inconsistencies in his story, which are many. I knew he was trying to scam us right away when he began swamping jus with unnecessary details. That's a pretty sure indicator that someone is lying to you, trying to convince you of the "truth" of their story.

We make it back to Walgreens and get my pills, which were cheaper than I expected. (Hallelujah!) As we are walking/limping/shuffling away from the pharmacy counter, I suddenly felt very faint and knew that I was going to pass out. I said so to M, "I'm gonna pass out," and knelt down with my head resting on the walker seat. After that, it's kinda fuzzy. I guess I slumped over and ended up on the floor with my face super pale followed by flushing, and was more or less unresponsive. (I remember bits and pieces, but most of this is what M told me and I just kind of gut feel that it's right.) A lady who was standing in the aisle came over and helped M get my sweater partially off so that I could cool down because I was very warm and sweating, and they took the pillow off of my walker seat and put it under my head. The lady in the white sweater held my hands and massaged them to get the oxygen back into them (my hands and face were numb, and I was hyperventilating some I guess) while M pulled my purse off of me. The male pharmacist came over and was also holding my hands (how many hands did I have?!), and another female employee was there as well, I think. Everyone was patronizing me, telling me what a good job I was doing and to keep breathing steadily, deep breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. They told me to squeeze their hands if I needed to, as hard as I needed, and as I was writhing on the floor they kept telling me to lay however was comfortable for me. The pharmacist told me to go to my happy place and I laughed. He said that his happy place would be under a race car, scraping off mud. I laughed again and told him that sounded like a crappy happy place. He said something about how he loves to race, anything involving that would be his happy place.

By this time, someone had called 911 and blocked off the aisle so that no curious onlookers could crowd around. (I never opened my eyes through all of this, so I don't know what anyone or anything looked like.) At some point, M tells me that I started screaming. Loudly. I hurt, okay? I know that I broke down and started crying, but apparently I was screaming/wailing very loudly while doing so. I don't recall that. I did wave my medic alert bracelet at them at one point, and they were questioning M as to whether or not we were together. She said, "Yes, we're together. She's one of my best friends!" (That's heartwarming to me ^_^) I somehow told them that the meds in the database for my bracelet weren't entirely up to date (they are changing so much and so rapidly lately!), so M went out to the truck for my big binder of medical info. I am so glad I have that thing!! I think the EMTs were there by the time she got back, but they wouldn't talk to her about what was going on. They wanted to hear it from me, probably to know that I wasn't delirious or anything.

I started getting my breath back and becoming more aware of my surroundings when the EMTs were working on me, so I was able to answer their questions. One of them asked me if I had any medical conditions, and I laughed at him. Then he asked me what medications I was on and I laughed at him again. I mean, I told him, but I laughed first. They got me sitting up, and then standing, and it was decided that I would just take a pain killer and try to make it back to our town. Since my case is so complex, with so many overlapping conditions, there really wasn't much they could do for me besides take me in to the hospital which I did NOT want to do. (We're kinda tight on funds right now, with all this traveling to the big city for my appointments, and ambulance rides and hospital visits are expensive. Not to mention the fact that we wrecked the truck that morning, too…) The EMT guy was like, "We can take you in, but you know your body and we don't. Do you think you'll be okay with just taking a pain killer? Is that what you think you need?" M and I agreed that it probably was, so I got them to push me out to the truck on my walker so M wouldn't have to, since I didn't really want to try my luck walking again. Somehow I ended up with a bottle of water that I drank, but it had no lid.

When the ambulance was at the crash scene that morning, I had insisted that M go with them to get checked out since she was obviously in a great deal of pain. She was so emphatic that she had to stay with me to get me to my appointment, and she was so cocky about how it was a good thing that she didn't go with them that morning or else I would have been dealing with all of that by myself and obviously I needed her. Yeah, yeah, yeah… lol. When the EMTs showed up, I waved vaguely in the direction of M's voice and said, "You're supposed to be the one going with the ambulance, f***er!" (I have found that swearing makes me feel better, but I think I should cut down on the habit since I have been doing it some very inappropriate places lately… such as when my mental capacity is diminished and/or I'm in a great deal of pain. Last time I got a steroid and pain killer shot at my doctor's office, I dropped a very loud f-bomb because it hurt SO. BAD. I thought it was in my head, but C was laughing at me and informed me that it was, well, out loud. Oops.)

The EMTs asked me what my pain level was at once they got me standing, and I immediately answered, "10. Wait, no… 9.5. I'm saving my 10." That day without meds was definitely the most pain I've gone through yet with this whatever-the-heck-disease-this-is. Every time I have to go without pain meds, it's worse. Now though, I've got consistent, established care with a pain doc and I won't have to worry about trying to scramble for meds. Well, I won't have to worry if I stick to the regimen of 4 a day. I know now that I can handle extreme amounts of pain, especially if I have sleeping pills on hand. I just know that I can't expect to have much of a social, professional, or personal life for a while yet. Not on only 4 pain killers a day. I'm not working anymore (which is also contributing to our financial crunch), so that pressure is off a little… I can pretty much just stay in bed. Not that I want to, but I gotta lower my expectations so that I can actually mentally make it through on 4 pills a day, without such a strong temptation to take more. I rationed out the correct amount of pills into my pill organizer and gave the big bottle of pills to C to hide. I told him that I'll come to him on refill day and ask for it back, then when I've refilled for the week I'll give it back to him to hide away again. Seeing the small amount of pills I have for every day will help me be less free with my consumption, because when I have the big bottle I'm digging my pills out of it's easy to think, "Oh I have plenty left… It won't hurt to take one extra right now, 'cause I'm really hurting…" Well, I have to realize that I'm pretty much always "really hurting" now, and I can't escape that.

Anyway, we got me packed into the truck and M drove us back home. The closer we got, the more pain she was in, so I stayed awake to chat with her and distract her from her pain (and mine). At my insistence, we met her mom at the ER as soon as we got into town and I left M with her. Guy M literally ran over to the hospital from his girlfriend's house (his ride fell through) and he drove me home in C's truck. He also spent the evening with me until C got home, which was nice. M finally got out of the ER at about 3 this morning (we got her checked in at the front desk about 7:30 pm), but fortunately she's only banged and bruised up. She was having chest pains even before we began our trip and could hardly eat or drink a thing the whole time, but that was determined to be an esophageal issue, and she will be following up with her primary care for that. (She had me worried! I was like, heart problems? Noooo!) The officer at the scene of the crash was talking to M and I just before we left the scene, and after I told him that I had wanted M to go get checked out he looked at me and said, "Why is she driving if you're not in any pain?" I was like, "Ohhhh, I'm in pain! I'm always in pain." It was funny. There were so many funny moments scattered throughout the craziness of the day, but the moral of the whole story is that M is a badass and an amazingly loyal caretaker and friend. We've decided that in the interest of simplicity, we're simply going to identify as sisters from here on out. It's just easier that way.

C took the news of his crushed truck surprisingly well, but he's definitely distressed about it. He had been planning to pay off a significant portion of the loan on it with his tax return, and also to put a chunk of money towards a new car for me since mine is set to crap out on us at any time. (It makes him nervous to be driving my car around, since he's afraid that it'll break down on him on the way to work.) Instead, he'll be paying the insurance deductible to get the truck fixed, as it's leaking oil in addition to the body work it needs. I'm really glad that it got us through all the running around we needed to do. We also have had to give up on the idea of the Celebirthsary that we were hoping to do, but I'm not as devastated as I might be since that was a tenuous hope at best to begin with. He wasn't sure we'd have the funds for it even before this happened. Guy M said something about how M was distraught over the idea of us not being able to have our Celebirthsary and how they were going to make it happen or some such, but I don't know if C will accept that. He has a proud streak… but I'm not above accepting charity! LOL. I'm just happy we got to go to one ren faire, even if it wasn't my favorite one. I knew that even if we got up there we wouldn't be able to do a nice dinner or go to the adult toy store like I wanted, but we'd at least have a decent hotel room and a day at the faire. But maybe I can put together a stay-cation for us here? Something, at least. I mean, our first wedding anniversary… it's kind of a big deal. Plus you've got our birthdays on either side of it, hence the Celebirthsary.

Oh, for those of you who haven't seen it, this video is the origin of the term "Celebirthsary". It's hilarious because C and I are so much like that couple. I mean, I don't go to trick C, but I love to celebrate anything, whereas C doesn't celebrate anything if he doesn't have to. The man doesn't even want a Valentine's card. He told me not to get him a card for anything, every, any occasion. Hah. Like I'm going to follow that rule!

So yeah. There you have it. My longest, craziest Monday ever. I'm still recovering from it (pretty much haven't budged from the couch), and I almost passed out again this morning, but I laid down in time and got it under control. I ordered myself a small pizza this afternoon and ate the whole thing by myself in one sitting. It was delicious and I totally savored it… until I started throwing it up several hours later. M said he totally knew that was going to happen. I guess I need to stop eating pizza. This is the 3rd one inside of 2 weeks… and I'm allergic to a lot of the stuff that makes it up. If I want to be kind to my body, I'll knock it off. But oh… I want to be kind to my taste buds, too! I figured I deserved an indulgence after a day like that… but maybe next time I'll indulge in something else. Like cheesecake. Except I don't know of any place that delivers cheesecake...

I got a notification last night  that I had received a comment on an older post of mine. I LOVE getting comments (kind of feels like when you get a letter in the mail, you know?), and this one stirred me pretty particularly. Cherryblossoms wrote to me on the post "God won't protect you… or will he?" from May of 2012. This is what she said:

"Hi cassandra, i see ur blog was written a while ago and i just gotta say it REALLY spoke to me. I have not faced abuse but emotionally i resonate with all your struggle in trusting God. I've had a chronic illness for a while and last year was really...really hard. Suicidal at times. And in retrospect i can certainly see where God provided for me but like....exactly like u said, i didnt feel protected. and then i thought well...was i promised to be protected? and if i'm not how am I supposed to trust someone who doesnt seem to bother to protect me, if He could? I mean i sure wouldnt trust another person who did that to me, stand by and do nothing when maybe they couldve done something. And if it was all to teach me a lesson....well okay...did my suffering have to be that overwhelmingly painful just for me to learn something? like really? and im still not sure about what i learned. i have vague ideas. mostly i just think i learned how to be real pissed off all the time. and like u i sit here and think, im such a bad christian! i feel the same. how do i tell people jesus loves them when i still feel hurt for feeling abandoned? Anyway, i wanna know if , since time has passed since this post...if u've found wisdom or solace or anything u can offer me. hopefully u see this comment lol. anyway, take care u sound like a lovely woman nonetheless < 3"

I, of course, had to reply…

"Life with a chronic illness (or more than one) is hard. Period. And I think that some emotions are universal, regardless of abused/not abused, etc. Have you ever seen The Princess Bride? One of my favorite lines from that movie has always been when Wesley, under the guise of the Dread Pirate Roberts, tells Buttercup, "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."

I can't say that I've come up with any answers… or wisdom… or solace. In fact, I don't even consider myself to be a Christian any longer. I just couldn't reconcile my experience with the facts presented in the Bible. I may come back to it someday, I can't really say… but at this point, I'm more of a quasi-Bhuddist/skeptic/deist/agnostic. Still figuring it all out. What I HAVE decided is that God wasn't responsible for my pain, I don't think. My abusers made the choice to be world class jerks, and the responsibility of my pain lies with them. Could God have stopped it? Maybe. Did he? Not that I'm aware of. But, basically, I've learned to live my life from the inner strength that I possess within myself, and the strength and hope offered to me by the people I've surrounded myself with. 

Now that I'm an adult, I can choose who I let into my life for the most part. I had no choice as a child or young adult whether to let those painful, toxic people into my life. So I surround myself with people that will feed my soul, and I stand amazed at the fact that they seem to feel the same way about me. I am learning to own my own strength, light, and love, rather than dissembling and deferring with "humility" and giving God all the credit. You say that your last year was really hard, and you were suicidal at times. (If you read some of my more recent posts, you'll see that I've been there at times lately as well.) But… you're still here. You chose to fight, to hang on, to believe in hope (maybe), and it's that strength within you that will carry you. Find hope where you can and where it suits you best. If that's in church and a belief in God, then more power to you. I have found, though, for myself… I have found that I lead a happier, more peaceful, more fulfilled and strong and hopeful life as a non-believer than I ever did as a Christian. I know that's blasphemous to some people, but it's the truth. It's safe to say that I'm a better, more authentic person now than I have ever been before in my life.

I have no idea if that addresses any of the questions floating around in your heart, but it's all I've got to offer. Thank you for the comment-- it really brightened an otherwise crappy evening (feeling VERY poorly, physically), and I hope to see you around. Oh, and thank you for the compliment :) I hope you see this!"

I've held back from outright stating some of this stuff, because honestly… I'm afraid to catch flak for my new beliefs (or lack of them, I should say). Since I spent so many years immersed in an intensely Christian culture, an overwhelming majority of my relationships and friendships are with people who are staunch Adventists and who feel that everyone should be an Adventist. If you're not, you're lost. And I really, really don't want to deal with the stigma or evangelistic efforts that would come with such an admission. I mean, if we're being honest here, it's not a state secret. It's pretty plain from my Facebook page that I've changed my stance on a lot of things, without my ever having to say anything. But I want to be seen as me, as a person, as Cassandra… not as my beliefs. Not as my religious affiliation. 

Did I tell you that when I "came out" to E about my lack of Christianity, she seriously considered asking me to resign? Why? Because our organization is faith-based, and we, the leaders, must set the example. I personally think that the organization is stronger for having a diversity of beliefs and religious convictions, as the population that we are trying to reach doesn't all fit into the standard Protestant mold. It's unfair to expect them to, and I think it's unfair to require the staff to all have the same beliefs and life choices. I mean, I totally respect other's beliefs. I have no problems with you if you're Christian, Pagan, Muslim, Greek Orthodox, whatever. It doesn't matter to me. As long as you're a good person (wherever the catalyst for that comes from) and you treat others with fairness and respect, we're good. I could wish that the same attitude were applied to me. I don't want to be discriminated against for my lack of Christianity.

And, honestly… I'm afraid. I'm afraid to lose friends. I'm afraid of being judged, of being attacked, of being the target of some campaign to change how I feel and think and believe. I have my reasons for my choices, and it feels so very invalidating for someone to assume that they know better and that if I only listened to them I would see that I am being a fool and need to come around to their point of view. I also hate the pity that is reserved for "the lost". Please, please, please… just treat me like a human being, yeah? My bestie J is a marvelous example of how the relationship between believers and non-believers should be. She sees me as a person, not an evangelistic target. We discuss religion and God and exchange thoughts, theories, viewpoints, etc., but at the end of the day we both respect each other's choices as valid and reasonable and know that the other has perfectly legitimate thoughts and feelings that went into those choices. My other friend H is a good example of this as well. It is kind of sad, though, that I find myself so appreciative of interactions that bear the mark of basic respect. I wish it were a more common thing, and that I didn't find myself living in fear of the Christian community, or the conservative SDA community, to be more specific.

Don't worry, I'm better now.

C came home, and I spilled my guts to him. He sat on the couch with me, my legs across his lap, and rubbed my aching knees while I cried and blathered on about what was going on with me. He listened attentively, gave me wonderful long hugs and cuddles, and then sent me to the tub for a soak to ease some of my pain and help me unwind further. Oh, how can I forget the awesome words of affirmation he gave me as well? I'll get to that, though. It makes more sense in context.

While talking to C, I was able to kind of pinpoint some of the factors that brought me to the sad place I was in last night. First of all, I did some research yesterday morning on alternate names for soy and gluten hidden in foods. It was... discouraging. The list is incredibly long, especially for soy, and I've been unknowingly ingesting soy in some of the foods I had previously thought were safe. I'm not as concerned about the gluten, and the list is shorter for that one, but I am definitely sensitive to soy and want to stay away from it. I guess I was just frustrated by the thought of having to refine my diet even further, and this means that I am going to have to do more cooking. That thought is daunting, because I often am so tired and ill and in pain that cooking is difficult. Now I have to cook, because I can't just get stuff from the store. I mean, can't I catch a break?!

So there was that. And then I went to work, even though I really didn't feel like it. At the end of the work day, we stopped by the store to buy turkeys for the turkey boxes we're giving away to several families. The lifting of the turkeys in and out of the cart, the walking around, and the waiting at the register for 15-ish minutes while the clerk messed things up several times took a toll on me. By the time I got home I was aching fiercely. I had decided earlier that I would not be able to participate in the bar tending fund raiser that's coming up for the HJ which discouraged me some, because I feel like I'm always letting the agency down and it was just another indicator of how much things have changed for me, how much I can't do anymore. The trip to the store validated my decision, but that didn't encourage me any.

On the way home I stopped by the store to pick up my pain killer prescription, which I had to buy without insurance this time for slightly complex reasons. I had expected it to be forty, fifty dollars maybe, as it was several months ago when I had to do the same thing. Because I am taking a different sort of med, though, it came out to over one hundred dollars. All that for less than a month's worth of semi-functioning capability. If that wasn't depressing enough, that also means that my credit card is now maxed out. It's not like I've used it for frivolous things, but having to live off of it for a while last year, various medical expenses, groceries from time to time, and household items when we first bought the house have all added up. I pay on it regularly, but I don't have much in the way of disposable income so it doesn't make much of a dent. The sicker I get, the harder it gets to pay on it... and the more I end up having to use it. It's a vicious cycle.

I've always had difficulties relating with money, but not in the sense that I have a hard time managing it. I'm good with money, when I'm able to make it lol.  No, the difficulties I have are that I don't feel worth it being spent on me. The high price of my pain meds was a blow to me, because C will be the one that gives me the money to pay that off, and I question deeply whether I'm worth it or not. I don't feel that I am. I hate being in debt for any reason, and I'm in the largest non-tuition related debt I've ever been in. I feel like I'm failing at life (for so many reasons) and I'm just dragging C down with me.

I think the money thing, the high price and the maxed out credit card, was the deeply insecure straw that broke the neurotic camel's back. The blow to my already wavering self-worth and self-confidence was fierce, and then I came home to a messy house that I hadn't had the energy or  good enough health to clean in several days. I was hurting, discouraged, and found myself thinking, "What's the point? Why should I even keep trying? I can't seem to make this work. I'm failing at life, and I'm taking C down with me. Am I worth this effort?"

Well, C's love, listening, and words of affirmation really did a lot to boost my spirits. When I was exploring my feelings about money and self-worth, he told me, "You are worth more than money." He also laid out his financial plan for the next few months, which put my heart at rest some. We're going to be okay. I am not breaking him financially. We're going to get through this. It's going to be okay.

Most importantly of all, the look of pure, overwhelming love in his eyes as he stroked my face, held me close, and kissed me deeply buoyed me up like nothing else could have. Even after I had just spent the better part of half an hour rambling and crying and being sad all over him, he still had nothing but love and support for me. I knew I knew what I was doing when I married the guy. Sometimes all it takes is just for someone to listen, affirm, support, and accept to really turn things around. I went to bed happy and fell asleep quite quickly, which was a relief.

Tomorrow is his day off, and I'm looking forward to spending the day together. (Well, if I ever get back to bed. I spent most of yesterday and last night sleeping, but I woke up a few hours ago from pain so I've just been watching movies while waiting for it to die down enough to sleep again.)

I saw the neurologist today. While he is more skeptical of fibromyalgia than I'd like (it has no objective test to prove its presence in a person), he seems to know what he's talking about when it comes to other things. In addition, he's friendly and laughs easily, so I will stick with him, at least for now.

When I told him about the twitchies, he immediately began asking questions. He feels that many of the things wrong with me are puzzle pieces, including the fibromyalgia. Indeed, there are several diseases that fibromyalgia mimics the symptoms of, so in reality I could not have fibro at all, but some other disease. Isn't that interesting? So I'll be getting an MRI, an EEG, and some electrical testing in the next few weeks, to see what's going on with my nervous system. Honestly, there are several suspects that we are trying to see if we can rule out, and MS is one of them. Many of the symptoms of MS are the same as fibro, and the twitchies are definitely of a neurological origin, so it's a suspect until we rule it out. Lupus is another. Basically, we're looking at autoimmune causes it seems, although he agrees with me that the big accident back in '06 may actually have something to do with my nervous system dysfunctions.

Other than that, life's been pretty calm. I've had a few more instances of grieving D, but I know it's normal and healthy, so I just go with it and cry it out. C will often hold me while I cry, which is nice.

Have I mentioned lately that I love being married? The more time passes, the more love I am filled with for C, and the more gratitude wells up and overwhelms me. I am so grateful that I chose this path for my life. I am filled with more satisfaction and happiness than I have ever had in my life. My time in Id was very fulfilling, and comes a close second, but the work I was doing to heal from my past adds an element of discord and instability that is lacking in my current life. I have stability, for the first time in my life. Real, honest to goodness stability. I have C to thank for that. He is a Mr. Steady, that's for sure, and he works so hard to make sure that all of our ends meet. I know I can trust him and rely on him to care for me... and our children, eventually. I love that man, more than I thought I was capable of, and it's clear that he loves me as well. Life is good. Loving and being loved, despite whatever financial difficulties we are having... everything else pales in comparison. I am basking in the glow of knowing that I have my own little home, a place that will always be here for me. That doesn't mean that I don't still get restless and have the urge to go on an adventure, but the adventure is sweeter knowing that home is waiting. A real home. My home.

I see the pain specialist tomorrow, and I hope that he can help me. The patch took a few days for the medicine to build up in my system, and it's helping a little, but I'm still quite reliant on painkillers. I feel less shame about using them now, less guilt for taking them. I don't really understand why I feel as though I need to prove myself by enduring large amounts of pain, but I'm realizing that it's pretty silly. If I'm hurting and have the means to lower that pain, why shouldn't I? I would want anyone else to do the same. I do tend to treat myself much more harshly (and abusively) than I would ever treat someone else, but I'm working on overcoming that. I'm still learning how to be kind to myself. It's a long process, but one that is proving worthwhile. I think it's contributing to my satisfaction and joy in life. C is wonderful, but he is not and cannot be my everything. It would be unhealthy for me to expect that. I need to find my own joy and satisfaction outside of him and our relationship, although he does bring me much joy and satisfaction. That's why I'm grateful that I can still work some. It does a lot for my spirit to know that not only am I still somewhat self-reliant, but I am helping others. It's been hard, this loss of independence and control over my life... but I still have some measures of self-reliance left, and I cling to them.

Now I'm just rambling. I ran out of the effective painkillers my rheumatologist gave me to tide me over, so I had to take a large dose of two other painkillers that I still have. It worked, and I feel very relaxed and happy, which I love. I can see how easy it would be to become a prescription pain killer abuser, but that is something that I do not want. That contributes partially to my guilt over pain meds. I'm afraid that by enjoying the relief from pain and the mild euphoria that the drugs sometimes bring, I am choosing the path of the drug abuser. I know that's not the case, but enjoying the effects of the pain killers frightens me in a way. The weather has been forcing me to take more pain killers than I would normally (the barometric pressure is all over the place!), but I have other, more active ways to relieve the pain as well. C claims that I'm going to kill him with wanting sex so much, but it's just a natural part of who I am. I think he secretly enjoys the fact that I want him so much. In fact, I know he does. He pretends to hold out because he likes to watch me try to convince him to "give me a dose of painkillers". I found that little tidbit out last night, and I pretended offense, but I find it just as fun as he does to try to convince him, so the game will go on.

Summary: getting the medical help I need, despite our financial hardships. (Payment plans FTW!) Life is good. I love my husband, and I love being married. Took some meds, I feel good, and I borrowed some books from the library so I've been reading like crazy lately. I've been more fatigued than usual, so it's a good past-time.

We got our marriage license today. Now it's starting to feel official! It's hanging on our fridge, just waiting for the big day to come...

I tell you, it still bemuses me a bit how this man can look at me and see past the pain, past the limitations, past the coping mechanisms I've shrouded myself with, right to the core of me... and want to link himself to that for the rest of his life.

We're only nine days out, and I've got cold feet.

Not about marrying C, not at all! It's the thought of "forever" that freaks me out. The thought of, "I can never ever just pick up and leave again."

But then again, there are other, bigger thoughts that crowd those out... like the thought of, "This man has supported me through my lowest lows, has seen me sobbing and disheveled, has borne the brunt of my impatience and insecurity... everything. He's taken everything I and my crazy life/past have thrown at him, and he's still just here. Patient. Unendingly loving and wise. Not going anywhere."

And that's enough to quell the panic that rises inside me. Sure, maybe I'm voluntarily turning myself into a caged bird, but it's that very cage that will hold me up when I fall off my perch, dizzy with fatigue and shaking with pain.

You know, an interesting though struck me the other day... See, I've only just started to identify with the "chronic illness community" because of the fibro, and the disruption in my life makes me crave community and support. I realized, though, that I've had chronic illnesses for quite some time. I mean, the food allergies? Totally a chronic illness. The hypothyroid? Yep. Adrenal insufficiency? For sure.

They limited me in many ways, especially the food allergies. The fatigue was a big problem I had to contend with, but it was nothing like it is now. I just never considered myself as much less than normal, because I could still keep up with the big dogs if I pushed myself enough.

There's really no point to that observation, it was just a small "aha!" moment of mine. No moral to the story, sorry.

Mom and I talked for a good 3 hours the other day! It was really nice to connect with her again... she and I have both been busy, kind of overwhelmed with the stuff going on in our lives... She's got a ton going on, and I believe she's struggling with depression still, and definitely with fatigue. She has discovered that working out consistently and changing some of her eating habits is helping her with that, though, and I'm very glad to hear it.

I told her what happened with BJ, just an overview, but I did mention what was brought up about my having fibro because I left God, allegedly. She thought that I said "because I love God", and she was like, "Oh, I totally agree!"

I was shocked, because I thought she was agreeing with what I said, not what she heard. Rather than just shrug it off, I addressed it, saying, "Ouch, Mom! That is a hurtful statement. Do you really feel that way?"

Of course, she was confused, which led to clarification of what I had actually said, which led to her vehemently opposing the idea. She believes that, basically, I'm being attacked by Satan because I'm a threat. From there, she went on to give me this really, really affirming talk about how she's always felt that I am meant for something great, like I have a big destiny, that I was meant to live a big life.

She felt for a while that, in marrying and settling down with C here in this little town, I was basically settling. Now, though, she really feels that it is the best thing I could be doing, because it gives me the stability and support that I need to really flourish and blossom. She said that no matter where I go or what I do, I'm going to influence people and make an impact, and live a big life. She also pointed out that the fibro has only slowed me down, not stopped me. She said that nothing has or can stop me. Basically, she told me that I was an amazing person who has this incredible power to inspire others, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, and that the bad things that have happened to me really only serve to inspire others more, because they just can't get me down! It was, as I said before, very affirming. Very filling. Incredibly encouraging. I was happy. (Still am!)

When I told C about what Mom said, especially the part where she said that marrying C is the best thing I could be doing with my life, I could tell that it really pleased and affirmed him, too.

I shared with Mom how my perspective on my chronic illnesses is changing. It's much like how my perspective on being abused has shifted over the years. At first, when I was first coming to terms with it, it was devastating. I still have a tough time with it on some days, because the state of illness that I'm in has fundamentally altered my life in many ways. I didn't exactly want my life fundamentally altered, thankyouverymuch! As I've come to grips with it, though, I am starting to view it more through the lens of optimism.

Sure, it's been tough. Very tough. This last flare did not make me happy at all. Living life in constant, intense pain is wearing. I don't like it, and I wouldn't choose it. The sheer exhaustion that comes after doing basic daily tasks that I used to take for granted (even with the fatigue that I experienced previously limiting some activities) is incredibly frustrating, and I would only wish it upon my enemies.

That being said, I have gained so, so much from this experience. I have connected with communities of chronic illness survivors and made some really incredible new friends. We are developing a rich connection that wouldn't be possible if we didn't share something so intimate and difficult as chronic pain and frustrating health conditions. It's like the ladies in my support group-- we are all there for similar reasons, and we can bond because of our pain and our shared will to survive and conquer.

My relationship with C has been strengthened, I think. I know now beyond a shadow of a doubt that he will never waver in his commitment to me. His character and loyalty have been very much tested, and he has proven to be solid gold.

My desire to live an intentional, authentic life has been honed and sharpened. I only have so much energy, so where am I going to put it? What is important to me? My priorities have been refined.

This woman, Stacey Kramer, sums it up beautifully. She survived something incredible (no spoilers here! ^_^), but she can now see it as a gift. That's kind of how I see this debilitating, chronic illness now. It's a gift. A terrible, wonderful gift.

I may have days when I totally don't feel that way, and that's okay, because in the big, grand scheme of things, I really am grateful for the life that I'm living. I am blessed. I love my life, and I am very content. I can say in all honesty that I am the happiest, healthiest (yes, really!) and most authentic that I've ever been.

I talked about that today when I spoke at a domestic violence prevention training. I've survived a ton of crap, but I'm such an awesome person now... how can I not see it as a terrible, wonderful gift? Would I rather not have had to go through it? Hell yes! I would rather NOT have been abused, molested, neglected, and rejected. I would really prefer to live my life without pain hounding my every footstep. (Or foot-shuffle, as the case may be...)

But would I be the person that I am right now if I skipped all those things? Probably not. And I love who I am. I love the life I'm living.

So I choose acceptance. And I choose gratitude. And I choose to accept the gift and make the most of it, in all its terrible, wonderful complexity.

There have been a few interesting twists and turns of events in the past few days. I just haven't had the energy to think about them, only react in real-time.

So Tuesday was kind of a sad day, with this giant wall of "shoulds" looming over me that I felt in no way equipped to fight. I felt trapped by my body and my health problems, trapped by my financial situation, trapped by my living situation (more on that in a minute), like I was failing as an employee and a productive member of society, and just generally defeated.

See, it's one thing when the Should Monster (who bears a striking resemblance to the Cookie Monster) is stridently insisting upon one particular Should. It's a whole 'nother ball of wax when it feels like a veritable tidal wave of Should is bearing down upon you, and you can't pick out one particular thing to combat.

I can't be too hard on myself, though, because truly, I'm still learning how to pull out my tools and deal with this stuff. I'm not going to get it perfectly the first time, or every time for that matter. So I forgive myself for not immediately bouncing up and away from the sadness and the Shoulds and the defeated attitude.

Wednesday, I had my last session with my counselor. It was a good one, and I realized something interesting towards the end, beyond the things I already know. Like, I know that the Should Monster is handing me a load of crap and I need to stand up to it, and self-affirmations will help a ton in this regard; that I am afraid of either living up to or acknowledging and owning my awesomeness, because then I feel like I have to perform at this super-high level all the time and that just kind of sets me up for failure and disappointment, so it's better and easier to just put myself down all the time and operate under the premise of "I'm messed up, I'm sick, I'm so screwed up" all the time.

I learned that I perform in spurts. Seriously. This is how I operate best. Rather than having to be operating or performing at a certain level all the time (think 9-5 job, 5 days a week), I am way more productive and don't have meltdowns when I have a spurt of awesome (however long that lasts) and then can retreat into non-productive mode. Think artist, or wedding planner, or somesuch. Musician. Trapeze artist. Writer. Whatever. Being "on" all the time doesn't work for me. And realizing that is super freeing and empowering. Like, just realizing how I operate is... cool. Part of what's been such a downer about the struggle with work is that I "SHOULD" be able to do that 9-5 thing and make it work and get over myself and just survive, right? Dude, I'm just not wired that way. Even if I weren't sick, I would still hate it and get burnt out. Which I have. Again and again. And being frustrated by it because I couldn't understand what was going on.

I also realized that I tend to live so much in the present that it's hard for me to see past this moment. I know it's a little weird, because I have struggles with being fully present in the moment, but let me explain... It's like, whatever is happening now is how things will be forever. If I'm happy now, I will always be happy. If I'm sad now, I will always be sad. If I'm in a place of limbo (which I am), things will never change and it will always be like this and I've failed. If I'm succeeding, it will always be like this... and when it changes, I'm devastated. Destroyed. Because I must have done something wrong, or else it would have always been like that.

I have a hard time understanding on a very fundamental level the ebb and flow of life, the changing, and the fact that whatever is happening now... will not be this way forever.

Maybe it comes from the type of childhood I lived. When things are crazy and dysfunctional, you're not thinking of the future. You're reacting to right now, and this is all there is. "Right now" is your world, because you never, ever know how things are going to change in three seconds. They could stay the same (Daddy's happy. Good. He's been happy all afternoon. Good.), or they could change in the blink of an eye. (Daddy was happy, but then I made a noise and annoyed him and now he's really mad and I'm being punished and he'll be in a bad mood the rest of the night.) The present moment is your world.

So. Interesting things.

But I am learning, and growing, and learning how to wield my tools with yet more proficiency. I was sad about things ending with my counselor, but I'm grateful for all she taught me and showed me. It was really a good little phase, and I know I'll always remember her fondly.

So then I've been fighting Food Stamps for two weeks, 'cause they're playing these stupid games with me. They called me for my interview a couple of times during the time when I specifically wrote down that I was unavailable, and when I (finally!) got a hold of them again, they said they'd put me back on the call list. Days later, when I haven't heard anything, I call back and find out that they never actually put me back on the list. That happened several times. Finally, yesterday, I decided to go down there after school. It was the first day that my schedule allowed me to, so I figured I'd take advantage of it. Plus they'd pissed me off the day before. After another round of calling me during unavailable hours, my calling them and them promising to call me back that day, I called them just before closing and got put on hold... for over twenty minutes. Then they hung up on me and wouldn't answer the phone anymore. (Did I mention this isn't the first time they've put me on hold and then hung up on me?) I was ticked.

As I'm walking up the sidewalk to the Food Stamp building's front doors, my phone rings. It's them, and they're calling for my interview. So I talk to the lady while I'm standing in front of the building! Hah! Long story short? I don't qualify for Food Stamps, because I'm a student and I'm working less than twenty hours a week.

Now, let me get this straight.

You won't help me because I'm in a position where I need help?

Right. Because, the lady explains, food stamps are meant to be a supplement, not the sole source of support.

Yeah, okay, so supplement me. I don't need to be fully supported. If you only knew how I'd been scraping by...! I can make it with your supplement. I'm not asking for welfare, here.

So I explained that I'm physically incapable of working 20+ hours a week while in school, but it makes no difference.

The door is closed in my face.

So I did what any normal woman would do... I went to my car and I cried. Because I don't know how I'm going to survive. Food stamps are out, disability isn't an option at this point... work is a mess right now anyway, but I'm doing all I can there... I'm out of options, and the only thing I can do at this point is live off of my credit card.

So I cried.

Then I called my mom. And she sympathized, but had no ideas for me, except that C should be supporting me.

I've heard that from people before, and I disagree.

It's not that he won't help me out if I ask, because he will. He's proven it, and he's blatantly stated that he won't let me go hungry. That's great. But, though we are engaged... I am not his financial responsibility. I didn't move in with him so that he would take care of me. We never, ever agreed to that, and I refuse to place a burden of responsibility on him that doesn't belong there. Just like if I moved back in with Gramma and Grampa, it wouldn't be their responsibility to take care of me, just because I'm living with them, just because I'm their granddaughter. It doesn't work like that. So I guess I get a little up in arms when people question C's moral integrity for not "taking care" of me while I'm in my dire straits here, because it's like judging him for failing to do a job that's not his. You know?

So I thought about it all day, and I finally decided to bite the bullet. Unfortunately for me, I didn't even think of the fact that I'd had all day to mull it over and C had just gotten home from work and needed some time to decompress, because I just hit him with it right after he walked in the door! I apologized later-- it was thoughtless of me, and rude. He accepted the apology and told me it was fine. Whew.

Now, we've had several "serious" conversations the past few days. There was Tuesday, when I broke down crying because I felt like a failure. (He maintains that I'm not.) Then there was Wednesday, when I had realized from Tuesday's conversation about having space of my own and feeling like a hangers-on that it's really, really important to me that a.) I know that when the house is purchased that it's our house and not just his, and b.) it's really important to me that after we're married we have our own place and space (i.e. no roommates). That was a good convo, and it went well. And, yes, it will be OUR home, OUR house, not just his. It's hard for me to feel that way now, because he's the one putting all the finances toward it... but when we're married, we're partners. Equals. His house, my house. (Right now, in the bachelor apartment, my stuff is kind of socked away in convenient locations because I came along last. He was already settled, and so was S, so it's their place, it feels... I just happen to live here.) And I'll be the one decorating it and cleaning it and all that, so I think I will feel more ownership. Right now is just a weird time of trying to fit myself into convenient little gaps.

I explained what happened with the food stamps, and C was sympathetic. He was very upset on my behalf when they were being so frustrating, so I knew he'd understand my disappointment at being turned down. So then I told him how I went and cried, and then I just asked him... I asked him if he'd be willing to support me until I can graduate and get a job. I know it's bad timing, what with trying to save for a house, but I'm trying my best and I'm doing all that I can, but I'm stuck in this weird limbo and falling between the cracks and I just don't know what else to do.

He asked how much I thought I'd need a week, and then he kissed the top of my head after I told him, "Sorry." He said that he knows I'm trying my best, and that means a lot to him. It's not like I'm just sitting back and doing nothing. So I asked for $200 a month. That will cover gas and should cover most basic food. I will continue to work and go to school... none of that will change. I'm just getting some help from my sugar daddy :) He says he knows what he can afford, and he's told me before that it's not like I'm a gold-digger. I hate to ask him to do this for me, but... I can't see any other way at this point.

It was funny-- I had texted him during the day that I wanted to make Rice Krispies treats, but he doesn't get the texts until he picks up his phone from the weapons locker at the end of his shift. So he's walking out the door with some other guy, and his phone goes off. When he sees it's from me, he's like, "Uh-oh, that's never good..." So he opens it and reads, "I want to make Rice Krispies treats...", and he's like, "I can deal with that. I can very, very much deal with that!" LOL He told me the story when he got home.

So we traipsed off to Wally World to get the ingredients, and while we were there, do you know what he got me?!??!

A neon/fluorescent sweater! Like the one I used to have in high school! (Actually, he's the one who bought the first one for me, while we were up at Ren Fair the year it was super cold and rainy.) I wore that thing to death, and finally got rid of it at SOULS, because I learned that you weren't supposed to draw attention to yourself with your clothes... and neon is definitely attention garnering. In the years since, I've regretted getting rid of it, since I figured I'd never have an opportunity to own one again.

I thought wrong!

You should see this baby in the sunlight. It'll sear your retinas right off :D

So. That has been my past few days. What an adventure. *sigh*

And what a good guy I've found.

Thank you, God, for my fiance.

And with that... I'm off to make the promised RK treats.

C took me to the pumpkin patch today.

I woke at a good time (covering my eyes to block out all light is helping with my sleep problems some-- helps the pineal gland regulate the production of melatonin), and spent a couple of hours working on a project for C. Don't tell him, but I'm compiling all the blog posts I've written about him, letters I wrote to my future husband, and letters/notes I've written to him into a book, which will also contain the backstory of our "love story". It'll be my gift to him, either before or after the wedding. Haven't decided yet. The reasoning behind it is that, on that first night we spent back together figuring out and declaring our undying love for each other, a repeated comment from both parties was that we could write a book about our story-- a multi-volume set! Also, I figure it'll be cool for the kids to read someday. They can see how their mommy and daddy got together.

After showering I spent some quality time with C while he woke up, then headed off to Goodwill to cobble together my costume for the zombie haunted house. I'll be a pseudo-military survivor leading groups through the supposedly uncontaminated abandoned warehouse to the safe zone. Unfortunately for us, we find out once we're inside that the place is infested with zombies, and I try to get the group through safely. As I'm herding them out the large steel doors at the end, I get snatched by a zombie and the door slams shut. (This will allow me to make my way back to the beginning and start with a new group.) On the other side, they receive their "rations" (candy) and are chased by zombies/military personnel out the gate and into the parking lot. It's going to be an adrenaline rush, that's for sure. And gross. I hate zombies. If this weren't for the HJ (proceeds are being donated), and if I didn't love theater... Well, I won't be a zombie, anyway. I'm a survivor. Ooh-rah!

I was disappointed to realize that today is not 50% Off day as I had thought, but I didn't realize it until after I'd paid. Too late! It was pretty inexpensive regardless. Even after tattering up the clothes, I have a feeling that at least the shirt will become a favored item of clothing... especially after it's spattered with fake blood.

When I got home, I whipped up some chicken, broccoli, and black beans. I was the only one who ate the beans (which were great with the chicken, 'cause I cooked it in green salsa), but C actually voluntarily ate a good size helping of both broccoli and chicken! And cake. lol. I had more broccoli for dessert.

After hanging out for a while, watching an episode of some tv show S has on his computer, and having an INCREDIBLY silly conversation about S cloning dinosaurs and C training, riding, and taking them into the store with him ("What? It's my seeing eye dinosaur!"), we packed up and headed out to the pumpkin patch.

The patch itself wasn't much special-- a local church puts it on, and it's geared towards little kids, but there was no way I could know that-- but we had fun regardless. We worked the hay maze and hung out in the petting zoo, where I made a couple of good friends, both of the donkey persuasion. One bit my shoulder and then stared at me after I gave him a good talking to, and the other (a miniature donkey) kept butting me with his head in search of scratches and trying to climb in my lap. No joke. Unfortunately, C says we cannot have a donkey. Apparently the dining room is not a great place to keep one. (I say it'll keep the snake good company.)

Our time at the patch was over rather quickly, so we swung by WalMart on our way home, ended up wandering around the aisles looking at random things. Mostly exercise equipment. And candles. He bought me three candles, because I couldn't decide what scent I wanted. Simmering Apple Cider is wafting through the room as we speak.

C and I also had some really good conversation about our future kids, the atmosphere of our future home, instilling morals in our kids (in addition to self-defense tactics) and such.

We came home and I tidied up, cleaned the bathroom (as I've been hankering to do for days, but just didn't feel well enough), worked on my costume, took a walk, and now I'm watching the Princess Bride as I work on the bail websites.

Pshew.

It has been a really, really good day.

I'm so glad I'm feeling better.

I love my mate.

Oh, yes, did I also mention that I'm engaged now? I mean like, officially officially. As in, he got down on his knees and all that :)

I believe a backstory is called for, yes?

This morning as I was getting ready for school, I went to go put my ring on. Much to my shock, surprise, and dismay... the little white box wasn't where it usually was. Figuring C must have moved it somewhere, I made a mental note to ask him about it later and grabbed my celtic medallion instead.

I was doing work/homework when C got home tonight, but I put it aside and followed him into the bedroom for some quality time/conversation, as I usually do. Amidst playful banter and stories about my professor, I asked him what he had done with my ring. Of course, he pretended to not know what ring I was talking about, or what I was talking about at all! Naturally, I plied him with questions as to why in the world would he hide my ring?!

So, here's the set of the scene-- he's gotten up from the bed where we were nestled cozily and swung himself into his big computer chair, and I'm sprawled across the covers facing him. He won't tell me where it is ("I guess you'll just have to find it!"), but he does crack a few jokes about thinking about being super devious and switching out the ring in the box for a different, older ring (one that doesn't even fit anymore!), about hiding it partially to see how nuts I would go looking for it. He didn't make it hard to find, though. As he swiveled around in his chair, it was plain to see that the little white box was sitting on top of the low bookshelf behind him, blending in with the white wall behind and the white alarm clock next to it.

"I found it!" (In my defense, it was dark in the room this morning. And I had to hit the door or I would be late. No time for a hunt.)

He picked up the little white box, opened the lid, and spent a few moments in quiet contemplation. Then he looked up at me, a funny expression on his face. I couldn't stop the excitement from rising within me as he slid to his knees, stating that he wanted to make it official. He pulled the ring from the box, took my hand, and as he slid the ring on my finger (after I showed him the right hand to put it on lol) said, "I do want to marry you. I love you." He was gazing into my eyes with this super melty, super lovingly intense look.

I replied, "I want to marry you too. I love you."

It's all kind of a blur, really. That's as specific as I can make it, and I'm not even sure I got the right phrases in the right places or the precise sequence of events. It doesn't really matter, I think. I just want to remember the sweetness of the moment, the silly grin on his face and how he was practically giggling at the fact that we're engaged! I was totally silly, too, grinning like a fool and kicking my heels.

Me: Wait, so... you really just proposed to me?
C: I assume so. I'm pretty sure that's what that was.
Me: Squeeeeee! *huge grin*
C: *goofy grin*

C: Now you can show off to all your friends.
Me: ... You know me too well.

C: I'm glad you're back.
Me: Me too.

So why'd he hide my ring? Because he wanted to give it back to me before I "stole" it again! Hah!

He was planning on taking me out to our special lake, "stealing" his dad's boat, and having the guys disguised in the boat with signs. As they went past, he would point the boat out to me, and the guys would be holding signs that said, "MARRY HIM!!!" However, I was out of town this last weekend, and he just couldn't wait, so he did it tonight.

You know what? I'm not disappointed. Not at all. It was so... us. So him. So sweet and simple and just a genuine outpouring of love.

He said that he was waiting until I stopped expecting it. As we all know, that only happened like, a week ago! Hence the "delay".

*Sigh*

I have found the one whom my soul loves. And I guess he liked it 'cause he put a ring on it.

Squeeeeee!

I was thinking about this last night as I took a walk (3.3 miles, not too shabby). And somewhat yesterday "morning" as C and I were at the range. And during the week, while I was laid out on the couch, sick.

Suffice to say that it's been on my mind in various forms a lot lately. :)

I feel like I'm finally learning how to do life well. Probably due in part to The Gifts of Imperfection and A Deeper Story, my mindset is changing. Imperfection doesn't send quick bolts of fear to my heart like it used to. (Um, okay, as much as it used to.)  My vocabulary is changing. I no longer seek the right choice, as though there were only one right way to do things out of the myriad of choices we are presented every day, but a right choice. I have come to believe that there is more than one right way to do things, more than one right choice. Maybe they vary in degrees of rightness-- I haven't gotten that far in refining my personal philosophy yet. But I'm breaking free of my black and white prison.

Probably part of it is due to my wonderful mate. (I almost typed husband! Almost... just 6 more months.) His no-frills way of approaching the world has helped me to be realistic, to take the machete of common sense to many of the briars that had grown up to choke my mind. It's not all briars, to be sure. I come across many valuable little plantings that I want to keep and nurture. And sometimes he disagrees, and that's okay. We have fun little clashings, interesting philosophical conversations that leave both of us shaking our heads because it's like trying to talk to a rock. (We're both a little stubborn, and too smart for our own good.)

Maybe it's because I have stability and safety, I can focus on the smaller aspects of life now. I can take the time to be good to myself, to speak my own love language, to be kind to myself. I don't have to be "on" twenty-four hours a day. And that is a huge relief and blessing.

Another thing I'm learning is to just let the day happen. Don't try to force it into a mold of what you think it ought to be like. Just let it go. Experience it as it comes. This is what I was thinking of yesterday at the range. I have a habit of looking forward to something being over even when it's hardly begun. Maybe so I can remember it and think about it, I don't know. It's like my chewing habits, but with experiences. I bolt down one forkful because I'm already looking forward to the next.

I think this "chewing thoroughly" thing is teaching me more than I'd bargained for.

Anyway, yesterday we went out and C taught me how to shoot his pistol. (I'm not good, but I'm not bad, either. If someone were coming at me, I'd say I have a 70% chance of hitting them, but odds are it wouldn't be where I was aiming!) (C is telling me that if someone is coming at me, I ought to treat it like the Renaissance one-shot pistols they used to use in sword fights-- fighting, fighting, take your pistol out and plant it directly against their chest. Did it go off? No? Then keep fighting with your sword! lol Apparently pirates used to do it that way, because it takes your chances of missing down to zero, and they already had to worry about whether or not the gun would actually go off, because the powder might be wet, etc.)

While we were out there, I found myself wanting it to be over, not because I wasn't having a good time (I rather enjoyed myself), but just because that's what I do. Fortunately, I caught myself, and I was able to focus and be more or less present for the rest of the few hours we were out there.

And as far as "planning my days"... I've more or less given that up. I mean, there are certain things I need to accomplish on certain days, to be sure, and I work on getting them done. What I mean is that detailed scheduling that I'm so fond of. "Okay, I'll do homework from one to three-thirty, at which point I should be done, then I'll clean the house from three-thirty to five, and then C and I will watch a movie, and then we'll do this, and then while he's playing SWOTR, I'll do this certain craft, and then..." Yeah, that's kind of boring. Plus it leads to frustrated expectations. What if C doesn't want to watch a movie, or cuddle with me when he gets home like I thought in my mind, or what if he wants to play SWOTR first and then do something with me, or what I if I don't feel like doing that craft? I think that dissective mindset was one of the things that led me to "soldier through" the day and activities, even if I wasn't feeling it. Like, I said I was gonna do it, so by gum I'll do it!

Allowing myself to take naps really shattered that. I can't exactly schedule a nap into my day, because who knows if I'll even need one, or how long I'll nap for, or... anything?

It's so much more pleasant to know what I need to get done and just let the day evolve as it will. There are times (especially this last week!) when I have to tell myself, Look, I know you want to quit this and do something fun. I understand, and I'm sorry. But this needs to be done, and you need to do it. Yes, you will be rewarded for your hard work, just not right now. Capice? So it's not like I just goof off and let my days fly to the wind. It's more of an "I'm not dead set on when this must occur, and if I don't get everything accomplished today that I'd like to, it's not the end of the world and I can get it done tomorrow."

I like this new way of living.

I like the little things that I'm free to do now. I like feeling free to buy myself a bouquet of flowers and decorate the jar that I put them it. I like being able to go to Michael's in the evening and window shop. I like being able to take long walks. I like being able to cook myself good food. I like being able to watch a movie, with or without C. I like being able to take a nap, should I so desire. I like being able to spend an hour or two Stumbling neuroscience articles, craft sites, and cartoons. I like my plans to decorate the house for fall, just because. I like being able to take time to just freak out if I'm dealing with stuff, if I need to.

I like my life.

I'm happy with it.

I never thought I'd be able to say that with such conviction and satisfaction.

...to bring good dreams.


Lay down your head and I'll sing you a lullaby
Back to the years of loo-li lai-lay
And I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow
Bless you with love for the road that you go

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune
With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet
And may you need never to banish misfortune
May you find kindness in all that you meet

[Chorus:]
May there always be angels to watch over you
To guide you each step of the way
To guard you and keep you safe from all harm
Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay

May you bring love and may you bring happiness
Be loved in return to the end of your days
Now fall off to sleep, I'm not meaning to keep you
I'll just sit for a while and sing loo-li, lai-lay

[Chorus]

Loo-li, loo-li, lai-lay...

Woke up from a nightmare last night.

I half sat up in bed, peering blearily around the room, not really sure of where I was. After a split second, though, I knew. (Much to my relief!)

C, on the computer next to the bed, noticed and asked me what was up. When I told him I'd had a nightmare, he laid down next to me, wrapped me up in his arms, and proceeded to soothe-talk me. The only thing I really remember him saying was, "You're always safe here." That, and "I love you, my sweetness." Or something like that.

As I drifted back off to sleep, I kept starting to go back there, to the scene of my nightmare, picking up where I left off. I did not want to go back there, so I tried to get my mind off onto another track by mumbling questions at C.

What's your favorite color?

You know me... anything on the dark spectrum.

Where's your favorite place to be?

Right now it's right here.

Awww, that's sweet...

Etc.

I drifted off fairly quickly, woke up at the time appointed (my alarm went off), and then realized I was much too tired to function, so I went back to sleep. (I actually did go back to the nightmare scene, but I changed it. I escaped.)

I slept for twelve hours last night, and I didn't even go to bed late! I put myself to bed at a good hour, because I had noticed that when I went to bed before/around midnight, I was able to get up in the morning and feel more refreshed and energetic, without the sluggish energy crash in the late afternoon that I've become accustomed to. Also, I struggle with less negative feelings throughout the day. Well, Friday night I made the mistake of staying up until 4 a.m., and yesterday I was feeling irritable and sluggish all day.

Maybe my body just needed to catch up on what I missed Friday "night"?

Either way, I'm discovering that I like to be up at 8, 9, 10 am. Anything later than 10 I don't care for. Maybe I'm more of a morning person than I'd thought?

Today I'm still feeling "bleh", though. Nausea, mostly... a general queasiness. And very frequent loose stools, yesterday and today... the past couple of days, actually. Maybe I'm fighting something?

I still need to take a shower...

Fortunately, today is Read Books day-- I'm trying to research and prepare myself to be a better facilitator for group. Is hard. (Read the last "sentence" with an accent, if you please.)

Honestly, I feel really intimidated by the task of facilitating, now that I've realized I made a bunch of mistakes. I want to be able to help these girls... and yet I don't really know what I'm doing! #frustrated

If only I had some sort of training to fall back on... but I don't. Only my own experience and what I've read.

I've just begun a book on the neuroscience of the teenage brain (called The Primal Teen), which is fascinating! Apparently, the teenage brain is in a state of flux, where the synapses (I think?) at first grow like crazy, then diminish over the next years. This explains why teens seem to, at times, have the mature judgment capacity of an adult, and then they go do something totally bonkers and leave you scratching your head.

And this is the place my girls are at... the place where long-term consequences don't exactly mean much... because they literally can't think through them. The brain is not developed that way yet. (Think pre-frontal cortex-- doesn't fully develop until mid to late twenties.) The book has already begun discussing the prefrontal cortex, which is exciting to me, but I'm just barely in the first chapter and a half. I can't say anything for sure yet.... just that I'm very, very interested.

The implications for my group and its "success" are staggering. I've been trying to help these kids by emulating the format of the women's group, but it's obvious that it won't work. Why? Their brain processes are fundamentally different at this point. If I can figure out how to use what I learn about how the teenage brain processes and utilizes information, then I can work out a curriculum that will enable me to help them deal long-term with the issues they are facing and will face. Now, according to my calculations... (LOL! Couldn't help but toss that in...)

Made it safe to my destination in the wee hours of the morning. Almost exactly 24 hours on the road, with a stop for a one hour nap once.

Let's just say that those 5 Hour Energy drinks really do work--not to get you hyped up and jittery, but to keep you alert and rational, not feeling sleepy at all.

I wasn't looking forward to the drive, because, let's face it-- 24 hours straight is grueling.

Some "minor" events came up that I survived-- gas-guzzling that I hadn't predicted, dense fog, freezing rainstorm, deer in the road, car's heater/ac breaking somewhere after Salt Lake City, boredom and loneliness, construction (LOTS and LOTS of construction), "seeing things" from lack of sleep...

Grabbed a few hours of sleep before hanging out with my "family" for many hours. Now, though... I need a nap. Like, physically need. I don't think I can make it to bedtime without one.

Not looking forward to the drive home, either. Happy to be here, but I wish there were another (faster), less grueling way.