Okay, I admit that my last post about Drogo was written out of my own irritation, and I'm glad that I have this safe place to vent and not go pouring my wrath upon him whenever I have fleeting feelings.

What I do have right now, though is kittens "helping" me to blog.

They are climbing on my hands and the keyboard and popping up between my arm and my side. It's pretty adorable.

Anyway, back to my admittance… I think Drogo just needed some time to, you know, be all grouchy and moody and whatever, and now he's getting over it. I pretty much decided that I was just gonna hold off and not really interact with him beyond passing conversation (i.e. not seek him out and "try to make things better") because I realized that women need a closeness when things are going wrong. We want to connect, to draw together, to be reassured and to talk and know that it's all gonna be okay etc. Men aren't like that. They want to be apart, to do productive things that will assure the desired outcome (that the thing going wrong won't be going wrong anymore) will come to pass. My continual pressing on him to make me feel better and to try to make him feel better and see if there was anything I could do to make things better and make the situation better was really just making things worse. So… I decided I was going to do for him what he needed. Space. Time. Silence. Okay.

I had to check my motives, though, and make sure that I wasn't ignoring him to punish him for being irritating, but to make sure that I was holding back from him to give him space to finish being grumpy on his own terms and in his own way. Waiting, you could say. Not punishing. And I did. And it felt kinda weird, but I knew I was doing the right thing. He came in after work and laid down with me for a bit, and I enjoyed that. He asked what I did, and I filled him in on the day. We discussed some "to do" things that I needed to accomplish that are urgent and I assured him that I would the next day (and I did!). He got up and went to go do his thing and I did my thing and eventually I went to sleep. While I was getting ready for sleep, though-- flossing, brushing my teeth, washing my face, etc.-- I came out and watched him play with the kittens for a while, which was adorable. We talked about them for a bit, too, and then I went to bed to sleep (versus going to bed to just lie down, which I do frequently). 

I woke up a few hours later 'cause pain and hunger and bladder, and as I stumbled into the kitchen I blearily noticed the sensation of my feet felt a bit different. I shuffled a bit further and realized-- Drogo had swept the floors! Granted, it's his chore and we'd both agreed it needed to be done that day, but he did it! Yay! I shuffled delightedly to the sink, only to be shocked into an utter standstill. The dishes were done. Normally I wash my dish right after I use it, but the past day or so had been especially bad for energy and muscle fatigue, so I'd let a few bowls and plates pile up and was dreading the thought of washing them all up. Now, though, I didn't have to, because the dishes were done!

And now I felt bad for being irritated with my husband at all ever. He wasn't far behind me in entering the kitchen, so I maneuvered my way back across the clean floor and kissed him passionately (do men know how sexy a clean kitchen is? Men everywhere--- this will get you into a woman's pants faster than roses and chocolates and fancy pick up lines! Okay, maybe not the chocolates, but it's really, really impressive!!) and thanked him profusely. I also thanked him again in the same manner the next day, and both times he was adorably bemused at my gratitude, but hopefully he'll store it away for future reference. He just said, "You were getting behind." Hah. Yes. Yes I was, and I'm grateful for the help.

So he's coming out of his grumpy shell bit by bit, but here's the bombshell… he broke his two cat rule. He has this big thing about only have two cats at a time. He claims it's to keep me from becoming a Crazy Cat Lady, and he's probably right, but I resent the Two Cat Rule with a passion, 'cause kitties! Anyway, we're re-homing the black cat that doesn't like people and keeping one of the kittens, right? Right. But the kitten will be oh-so-lonely without mama and its litter-mates because that's all it's ever known! So I proposed to Khal Drogo that we keep two kittens, especially since Juneaux is terrified of kittens and they'll need each other, at least until they're more significantly grown. He's been thinking about it, and today he mumbled that he guesses we can keep two kittens… and then he picked out the one that he likes the best. He broke his own rule! Ha-HA! 

Sorry. I just feel rather victorious at the moment. He didn't let me celebrate, though. I squeee'd once, very loudly, and he told me to "stop freaking out, woman". So I did. I replied "I will stop freaking out because I know that if I continue to do so it will jeopardize the decision you have made. Am I supposed to act like this is no big deal?"

"Yes."

"Cool. No big deal then. Can I smother you in kisses?"

"I'll be in there to kiss you in a minute. I'm leaving for work."

"Besides that one. Can I smother you in kisses?"

"…I'll be in there to kiss you in a minute. I'm leaving for work."

"…Alright, fine."

So I admit that I was writing out of my own annoyance yesterday, and he is being an adult and getting over himself, at his own pace, in his own way… and he's making overtures of kindness toward me, I think to make up for the grumpiness that he knows has hurt me this past week and more. I haven't discussed that here, but there have been incidents. It's been rough. Anyway… our marriage isn't in danger. We're just people, like anyone else, refusing to give up on each other. And isn't it super sweet that he swept the floors and did the dishes and is letting me keep kittens? My heart is so totally melted right now!!!! <3 p="">

I'm stressed 'cause I'm depressed... or is it that I'm depressed because I'm stressed? Or maybe I'm both stressed and depressed for a different reason entirely? Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter... the reality of the two things is enough.

The day started off well enough. I got my hair cut, finishing out the transformation. That made me giddy, especially because I quite like how it turned out.

The purple is for fibromyalgia/lupus/abuse awareness, and the red is because it looked more awesome than teal on the swatches. Teal would have been pretty sweet, though. Next time.

While chopping bell peppers for my salad at lunchtime, I suddenly flashed back to a memory of D involving bell peppers, and I just lost it. I cried for a good 5 minutes, overcome with grief. Then I was okay, but still sad.

I worked today, very hard. I like work. It makes me feel like a useful, contributing member of society... like I can actually still do something, you know? And my boss values my work very much. She considers me invaluable, actually. I know I will never be replaced unless I should actually choose to leave. But now I am tired... more tired than is reasonable for the amount and type of work that I did, and that's... frustrating.

I stopped by the bank on the way home and started the process of trying to get a personal loan, which is terrifying because I will have to pay it back and I don't have that kind of money... but I have to get this car thing taken care of. There is no postponement option. I hate being in debt. Hate, hate, hate it! And I feel like I'm in so much debt... That stupid credit card that has saved my butt so many times... I'm trying desperately to pay it off, throwing everything I have at it, but it still doesn't go away. It pisses me off that I'm in this situation, honestly.

And then I called R to see if he was comfortable co-signing the loan (he's not, which is fine), and we ended up in a conversation about the stress and troubles of life back home. Without going into details... it's troubling to me. I know that's their thing, and there's nothing I can or should do, but I still just want to see everyone happy and healthy, and right now that's not the case.

So it's the end of the day, and I have work I could be working on, but I'm all worked out. I'm tired, and I hurt, and my painkillers are barely taking the edge off, and I'm nauseous, and my guts are cramping, and it's been this way all day... and the day before... and the days before that... and I'm just getting really sick and tired of being sick and tired all the damn time. It gets so old, so fast.

I want to move as many of the smaller things to the new house as I can tomorrow, and put the boxes and stuff already there in their appropriate rooms (most of which I've already done, but the last few loads were just dumped in the living room), but... I can't do it by myself. I know that I will just make myself very, very sick, and I can't afford to do that. I asked a friend to help me, but she can't tomorrow, so I don't know what to do. It's frustrating to have a job that needs to be done that I could have done in the past, but now I'm helpless. It pisses me off, frankly. And it depresses me. I just want to sit down in the middle of the floor and cry. Tears of frustration, anger, and sadness. Like a little kid who needs a nap. I need the world's longest nap, and I need to wake up from the nap all better.

I seriously considered telling R today that I'm not going to doctors anymore, that I'm getting off of my medicines and whatever happens, happens. I am so tired of being a financial burden to him, like an anchor around his neck. I never wanted this... I may still make that decision. Like, after this run of acupuncture is done, I don't want to ask R to do it again. It's thousands of dollars for the long-term treatment plan, and I can't do it. I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't do this anymore...

No more doctors. No more medicines. Just me, curled up in bed, hoping to make it through another day with my sanity intact.

My life is fucked.

I'm sorry. I told you I was feeling stressed and depressed. I have no "it'll all be okay" optimism left in me right now, and I can't fake any of those inspirational life lessons. I got nothin'.

What did I do to ever deserve this? I must have been a kitten killer in another life. They say karma's a bitch, but I really wish she'd tell me what I did wrong before she slaps me. I probably killed kittens with other kittens, and then killed those kittens with rainbows that I turned into drugs to sell to children.

I just really don't want to do this anymore. I could use some of those kitten-killing rainbow drugs, honestly...

Alright. I'm done bitching. 'Cause believe me... I could go on and on and on...

Whew. Today has been a rough one.

I did a ton of packing yesterday, and then we moved it all over to the new house, so that definitely wore me out. On top of that, I had a doctor's appointment and a couple of errands to run, plus my last Spanish class, and I was already fighting major fatigue. I did not want to help load up the truck and move our belongings last night-- I wanted to go to bed!! But I helped my beloved anyway, because it would be a jerk move for me to leave it all to him. He looked over at me in the passenger seat and said, "I can tell that you overdid it today."

"You think so?" (Not sarcastically, genuinely questioning.)

"Yeah."

And he was right. I was hurting yesterday, but I woke up at 5:30 this morning due to pain and a growling tummy, and I could NOT get back to sleep. I was so frustrated! So I got up, ate something, and settled onto the couch with my trusty, newly-fixed laptop. After an hour or two, I dozed off and was able to get a couple more hours of sleep before my acu appointment. I wasn't up to walking, because even two painkillers hadn't dulled the pain to a "let's act normal" level, so I drove. That was a big tip-off to E, my acupuncturist, because I usually walk. When she saw I didn't have The Stick with me, she knew I was hurting. She did a more intense treatment on me this time, on my back instead of my front, and then my massage therapist worked on my back when she was done. I still hurt when I came out, but I felt tons and tons better.

I've been medicated today, but I feel funny. Weak. Like my eyes won't focus right, and my legs are going to give out... and this funny, weak, up-and-down feeling in my torso. I don't know how to explain it. But I'm tired. Sooooo tired...

So anyway, I came home and made some food, chatted with J for a while, then hopped in the shower with C and got ready for my next doctor's appointment. To the dermatologist! I got my stitch from the punch biopsy taken out, so now I have a neat little crater that's healing up quite nicely. It turns out that the blotchy rash-lesions on my chest are a fungal infection, and we can blame that on my suppressed immune system. Not only is my immune system compromised, but the dexmethisone for my adrenals suppresses the immune system, and the hydroxychloriquine is a suppressant of sorts as well. So the derm said that I'll probably see reoccurrence with this, especially while it's so hot. It's not unsightly or anything, but still... first acne, now this? I guess I'll just be battling my skin all of my life! At least it was clear and beautiful for my wedding pictures. I am unendingly grateful for that.

Also, I had my appointment with the lady doctor yesterday, and after describing that bleeding situation with her she put me down for a pelvic ultrasound. She didn't feel any lumps or anything in the manual exam, and everything else looked good and healthy, but she'd rather make sure that everything's okay than miss something terribly important... or even not-so-important. I'm cool with that.

After my dermatology appointment, I ran a couple of errands, saw my friends at the pharmacy (heh.), and then headed down to Mexico to try and hunt down a cheaper version of Savella for R. Bad news-- no one has it. Like, they've never even heard of it. Bummer :( But it was worth a shot, and I've found that I'm much better at dealing with the pushy vendors and the even pushier guys. I had one older man follow me for half a block asking if I wanted a Mexican boyfriend. We walked past his friend, who made sure to shout at me that he was single. Oy. I just kept walking, eyes forward, head high, no eye contact. Doing my thing, and ignoring them. There was a really nice guy in a safety vest that held my car door open for me, and stopped traffic so that I could turn around on the narrow little street to get back to the border. He was very kind, and I was grateful for him. I also noticed him tailing me briefly as I first began hunting for pharmacies, making sure that I was okay (because at the first pharmacy, the one that I parked in front of, some guys started trying to heckle me as I walked in). As I said, he was kind.

I was SO ready to be back home and collapsing into bed by the time I was finished with the Mexican pharmacies, but lo and behold... I got stopped at the border for inspection. I had to pull my car off to the side and sit on a bench while they went through every inch of the vehicle. I suppose it was the heat, but I got hit with the most incredibly intense headache while talking to the agent that directed me to pull aside for inspection, and it frightened me how sudden and shockingly intense the pain was. It was focused in my left temple and around and behind my left eye at first, but then it spread to my entire head while maintaining an emphasis on the left side. Any movement hurt, and it was kind of difficult to see. (Driving? Not fun.) When I was finally allowed to drive away and I got the air conditioning cranked up, it abated some.

I got home, changed, and collapsed into sleep for a couple of hours. Mercifully, when I woke up, the headache was gone. Now I'm just left with an upset tummy, an exhausted body (MOAR SLEEP!), and tendrils of a headache dancing through my noggin. And the twinging, painful frame, of course. I don't want to take more painkillers, but I may have to. If only I'd had the Comet I needed to scrub out the tub yesterday, I could take a bath now. But I kept forgetting it at the new house and only picked it up today. If only someone could or would come over and scrub my tub for me!! Alas...

I'm trying hard to be balanced, I am. I don't want to overdo it and pay an awful price, but it's hard for me to realize when I've run out of spoons, or when I'm working with diminished levels to begin with. C says that I have a lag in my energy levels, so that by the time I realize I've run out I'm already in the red. He's right, and I must learn to work with that.

My massage therapist gave me another "prescription" today. In addition to doing one thing each day that makes me happy (and makes me feel happy-- she emphasized that point!), I am to slow down on the packing, take more breaks, and make it fun. Okay. I can do that. At least she didn't forbid me to pack, like she came close to doing! I am definitely forbidden to move furniture, though... Nothing heavier than a chair. (Yeah, I totally ignored that two days ago when I was hauling boxes to the new house...)

So now I am laying on the couch, drinking coffee and tons of water and watching "Shall We Dance?" I love JLo, and I love Richard Gere, so this movie makes me happy. It makes me want to learn to dance. It makes me want to make C watch it so he'll want to dance so we can learn ballroom dancing together! :)

Yeah. It's been a rough day. But there have been bright spots, as there always are. I don't feel down, really, just physically trashed. I really just want C to get home, because I miss his face. And his presence. I love that guy...

Oh, and a major bright spot in the day? I've been getting very positive feedback on the Flip Flop Theory. J said that as she was reading it she was confused for a moment, as she thought that it might have been written by "a professional psychologist person", but when she checked she realized that it was indeed me that wrote it. So she said that I write really well, and it was well done. This pleases me. It pleases me greatly, especially since Miss J is a talented writer herself, and a fellow grammar nazi and etymology enthusiast. (Oooooh, alliteration! I love alliteration.) I am very grateful to be accoladed as a good writer, since it's a talent of mine that I'm especially proud of... and that makes me vulnerable in that area, and vulnerability is scary, scary stuff. So sharing my writing with the world? It's hard, but often quite rewarding. I guess I'll keep it up... :)

So I've discovered that I absolutely despise buckwheat hot cereal.

I hated it the first time I had it the other day, but I thought, "Hey, maybe I did it wrong. I'll give it another shot before I condemn it."

Alas, no. It is intrinsically gross. The only good thing about that bowl of buckwheat cereal I choked down was the butter and maple syrup I put into it. It was kind of like a really disgusting liquid pancake. When I do the butter and syrup thing with rice grits, it tastes like a liquid pancake-- pure heaven! I have to be careful how much butter I put in, though, because apparently I'm secretly either Southern or French and it's really easy for me to just load it in there.

In other news, I carted a bunch of stuff over to the new house, and I cleaned it all up so it's now move-in ready. Next move is packing boxes full of the things that we aren't using and taking those over. I need to stop being so picky about organizing everything before I begin to pack it, because that's just spending extra time. I should organize and sort while I pack, then I'm getting two birds with one stone! And as far as packing materials go, we don't have any newspaper or such... but we do have an abundance of towels, and I just picked up a couple sets of sheets, so I'll just use those. Then, when we unpack everything, I can just store the towels and sheets on the shelves I'm going to put up above the washer and dryer. We have no cupboards or linen closet for that, so I had to get a little creative.

I'm excited to be nesting and settling down in my little house. Apparently C took his brother and some others over to the house last week to show it off, so it would seem that he's excited, too.

More than just the house itself, I'm excited about what it symbolizes for me. To me, it symbolizes the life that C and I are building together, the solid foundation of "us" that we're working from that can weather any storm. Our life together has not been what we thought it would be, but it is better than I could have imagined. I love that man so very much, and I'm so happy and proud to be setting up the house that I will be sharing with him for many days (and years?) to come.

I have requested (and C agreed) that we have a celebratory barbecue once the house is all moved and settled into... Kind of like a housewarming party in reverse. Like, "here, let us give you food and show you how grateful we are for all the support you've given us... and for helping us move." 'Cause the guys are totally going to help us move the furniture, that's just a given.