Today was one of those "I feel like I'm doing life/chronic illness management wrong" days. Not that anything in particular triggered these thoughts, no instances of failure, but I just woke up kind of... off.

It's hard to fight the "voices" when they're indistinct and muddled. If I had a clear thought to combat, then I could make some headway. I do want to start counseling or therapy of some sort again, if I can find an inexpensive/free counselor. With all of the other medical bills I rack up, I feel bad tacking another one on that's not "essential".

I do know that I'm doing the best I can, though. I rely on pain killers to make it through the day, and that's okay. I have to be okay with that, because it is what it is. My not taking the pills won't help anything; I would just end up miserable and incapacitated with pain and aggravation of my other symptoms.

Speaking of aggravation of symptoms, I've been having a horrible time with nasal and mouth sores. The roof of my mouth has been tender, swollen, and ulcerated for almost a week now, and the sores have spread all over my tongue as well. I started taking a B vitamin complex supplement, for the folic acid, and I've also been rinsing with warm salt water. Those both seem to be helping a little, as the sores hurt less, even though they are more prolific. I am also sticking to "mushy" foods, easily chewable and nonabrasive.

I got some super awesome validation from a source outside my inner circle today. I was discussing a project for the upcoming DV vigil with one of the HJ's board members who is also on the Victims' Rights Committee with me, and he spoke about how he always enjoys working with me, and he is very impressed with the quality of work that I turn out. He also mentioned in the course of conversation that I do a lot of work for the committee and the HJ, regardless of my physical handicaps, which he admires and really appreciates. So it was just really good to hear praise from someone who isn't close to me, because it can sometimes seem like your loved ones are, like, paid to tell you nice things. You know what I mean?

I bought the fixins for fall/autumn decor for the house today while I was at the craft store getting supplies for the DV vigil's ribbon pins. (Everyone was so taken with the ones I made for the homicide vigil that I was forcefully nominated to do the ribbons for this vigil as well. I was flattered and excited, because I like doing crafty stuff and being able to contribute, especially when my contribution is so lauded.) C and I have had to hammer out compromises in the realm of decor, as he does not particularly care for seasonal decor of any kind and is pretty staunchly opposed to holiday-specific decor. I went on Pinterest and gathered several pictures of possible decor ideas, and he went through and pointed out the elements that he liked and disliked so that I could get an idea of what to steer clear of. Anyway, now that I have some supplies to round out what I already owned, I plan to purty up the place tomorrow, after cleaning up a bit. My house is never really dirty, but it is in need of a good tidying, especially the bathrooms. (Actually, I take it back. I'm sure that the house could use a good deep cleaning, because everything tends to get a nice thick layer of dust on it due to the fact that we live in a sandy desert.)

I really need to get with the program and buy a medic alert bracelet. Just due to the adrenal insufficiency, I should have one to alert anyone in the case of an emergency that I need a shot of cortisol to keep from going into adrenal shock. That wouldn't be good. Also, with all of the meds I'm taking it's a good idea to have that kind of thing easily accessible for doctors/EMTs to see. The risk of negative drug interactions is not a good risk to take. Ugh. Maybe I'll just bite the bullet and go do that right now, online...

As a parting thought, I'd like to share something that showed up in my news feed on facebook that correlates to my fight for optimism and self-acceptance today:

"Kick fibro in the ass! "What does that mean though?" Kicking fibro's ass just means hey, I take my meds, I do my treatments, if I can go for those walks I will, if I can't go for those walks I'll stay in and let my body rest, I won't PUSH myself beyond what I can't do. I'll try not to be so hard on myself, and I will do my best to release myself from the guilt other people put on me or the comparisons other people put on me as well because I don't deserve to be treated like anything less than a wonderful human being. So go kick fibo's ass, one flare at a time. YOU deserve it. It's not about being "physically strong" all the time. We understand how fibromyalgia makes us all feel, weak, tired, in pain, nauseated, shriveled up with sadness, yet we somehow prevail through it all. It's about giving yourself the credit you deserve for getting through such a difficult battle every day. It's about self-acceptance and empowerment. We all matter no matter what."

The brain amazes me. Truly.

Today, I worked overtime. While I was moving Christmas decorations from the warehouse to the coffee shop, I had to use the owner's big, BIG Doge 3500 truck. It was a standard transmission. I haven't driven standard in... in... um... Yeah, well, it's been that long!

And I knew exactly what to do. My feet and hands didn't skip a beat, even when I had to press the clutch, step on the brake, shift into the next gear, and switch on the turn signal all at the same time!

Amazing.

It takes almost as much coordination as playing the piano. I thought I was just practicing special music for church, but no! I was practicing driving at the same time! LOL

I found this here, which led me to here, and thought I'd give it a try.

I am from cigarette ashes and Pontiac cars and Dr. Pepper-- lots and lots of Dr. Pepper.

I am from apartment after apartment, white walls blurring together in a whirlwind of sensory amnesia. I am from cracked sidewalks shimmering in summer's heat, palm trees rising in stout vigilance, and chain link fences tottering weakly through rasping weeds.

I am from the cloud-sodden skies of the coastal Northwest; the rippling, life-giving fields of the Breadbasket; the majestically parched, mountainous deserts of the Southwest; the coniferous sweeps and river-carved valleys of my new home.

I am from "High-Lows" and fierce determination, from "the little wise one" and the Jones' eyes.

I am from the tumultuous solitude of a family torn apart and the gratifying agony of a family pieced back together.

From "3-foot-2, eyes of blue, prettiest girl I ever knew" and, "If you swallow a watermelon seed, your belly will swell up and you'll have a baby."

I am from 6 generations of my denomination, but without a Cross to kneel before. I am from Bible Bowls and memory verses and rainbows that prove God has heard us. I am from bedtime Bible stories and teenage confusion and "Why, God, did you let this happen to me?!"

I'm from everywhere and nowhere, unsure of my heritage, falling neatly into line as another "Heinz 57" American.

I am from lemons zested on the tree by mischievous Great Grampa (a literalist like myself), from the land of Hide and Go Seek and safe havens and "Mount Cheese and Crackers".

I am from boxes saved out of the kindness of a neighbor's heart when all else was ripped away... again. I am from dusty albums under the living room table, the repetitive snapshots of distant scenery and unfamiliar faces pushed aside in favor of a good game of Jenga. I am from stories over coffee and cigarettes, the laughter weaving around the words drowning out the rain on the porch roof. (Neither my aunt or my mother ever seem to forget a story.)

This is childhood. Maybe tomorrow I'll do a teenage version... then an adult version.
Wow. This stirred up so many memories, many of them bittersweet.
I do realize, after thinking through this prompt... as a child, my world began and ended with my mother. Mom was the end-all, be-all to my life. I'm so glad she was a good one.

Just a little under the weather today. I should have expected it, but I didn't. I think Aunt Flo might be coming to pay me a visit soon, anyway.

H pointed out that I'm stressed. Why can't I see that for myself? Why do I need others to point out the obvious to me? In any event, she's right. So I can see why emotions are a little wacky right now.

I kinda feel like I've regressed a little... because I overate again today. A couple of times. To try and fill the jittery emptiness within.

I was antsy... restless. So I went to Goodwill and bought some necessary things that I had been planning on buying anyway. Then I went to the store to try and find some ice cream. No go. So I got Taro chips instead, and a green tea.

I've finally got most of my sermon put together. Oh, and I have the kid's story, too. That's what's really been getting my goat- I have the sermon, and I feel like I'm failing because I don't have it done yet. So it feels good to have most of it done. I want a short one this week- I'm thinking 15-20 minutes, because they'll have the school kids out there doing songs and stuff, too. So it'll be less of me preaching and more of me giving them something to chew on for the rest of the week (hopefully). I've entitled it, "The Broken Bride". I'll share more when I've actually got it done. Anything could change at this point.

So, setbacks and fatigue and doldrums and all, I think it was an okay day. I still know in my head that my emotions do not dictate my reality, and that's growth in and of itself.

I'm going to go take a bath now. Maybe that will wind me down enough to sleep. I'm still restless.

Mom's out of the hospital now. I'll be talking to her tomorrow, so I'm not sure exactly how she's doing, but I know it's better than before she went in, so that's a blessing.

Our new pastor was at group meeting last night. It had the potential to be awkward, 'cause it's like, how am I supposed to keep up appearances when you show up at one of the few places that I really bare my soul?! I had heard him banging around downstairs prior to the meeting (I was upstairs lying on a couch and reading, since I'd already finished cleaning and I had wiped myself out earlier that day), so I took off my ring and stuffed it in my pocket... just in case. Then, when group started, we all had our eyes closed for prayer, and I thought, "You know what? Screw it. I'm just gonna be myself. He can hate me if he wants to." So I pulled the ring out and slipped it back on my finger, where it remained for the rest of the night. He never said anything. As a matter of fact, I even got comfortable and bared my soul during check-in time. "How was my week? Well... my mom's been in and out of the hospital all week and she just got out of surgery right before we started the meeting and it's been really freaking me out because Larry just died out of the blue and I'm afraid that my mom is going to die too so I've been bargaining with God/trying to grasp at straws for the control that I've basically lost over my life and everyone I love and so I've been seriously contemplating anorexia even though I know it's stupid and will ruin my future and won't actually help me control anything and won't do anything but help me live in denial and make me sick but I've been kinda doing it and so I've lost weight and it makes me feel kinda giddy inside, and... oh, yeah, and I'm struggling with whether or not I actually trust God... but I know for sure now that I believe he exists. That happened about 3 weeks ago." I then went on to explain the bombadier beetle to the group, especially C ("It's a beetle that shoots fire out of it's butt!) and how that comforts me because if God puts that much care into a stupid beetle, then some of that care and creative energy must be directed my way.

Oh, yeah, and they noticed that I'd lost weight. Apparently, since I have those high cheekbones that everyone loves, it's more noticeable when I lose weight. They say "gaunt"... I say "not so much". Anyway, I'm not sure whether to be happy about that or not... and even though everyone says they can tell I've lost weight (not just in my face, the fam says my body is smaller, too, and my collarbones more prominent, which doesn't bother me because I love distinct collarbones), when I look in the mirror, I actually seem to be fatter than before. How can that be possible? It's not drastic.. just maintaining, maybe a little bit wider... but I don't see the loss. I know that I don't want to go full-blown eating disorder, but now that I've lost some weight... I really, REALLY don't want it to come back. I'd much rather maintain, or even drop another five or so.

Now that life is sorta good again, though, I guess I can stop freaking out. Less stress means my appetite will come back.

I made an accomplishment yesterday. I was upset b/c Mom was going into surgery that day, so I went for a walk. I decided to walk up to the next road, which is...? miles, and some of it's uphill. Anyway, it took me about an hour, but I made it there and back in time for lunch, and the most important thing is that I told myself that I could/would do it, and I did! Awesome.

I don't know how I feel now. It's all confused and swirled around inside... like I'm not super-happy, but I'm not sad, necessarily... and I don't really hate myself at this point... there's not much anger floating around in there...

It's so weird how the landscape of emotions is constantly changing. That's the one thing to remember: this, too, shall pass. No matter what it is, it will pass eventually... right?