One-sided conversation with my brain

So, speaking of anxiety and things I can't control...

Last night, I was sitting in the living room late at night with Boy-child. Neither one of us could sleep and so we sat and just talked. We discussed his new fish, and what he did on his mission trip, and then came around to high school, which he begins this fall.

It was really only about 30 minutes, but it was a nice thing. Hanging out. Just the two of us quietly chatting.

And then we went to our own beds and I lay down to try to sleep.

BRAIN: Hey! Guess what? Your son is starting high school! Do remember high school? Do you remember how much it sucked for you? What if it sucks for him, too? What are you going to do then, huh? Do you remember that you were only a little older than he is now when your mom died? Do you? Huh? Huh? It was the last day of your freshman year, so you were fifteen. Way to start your summer break. Geez. I mean, seriously, your body is probably already riddled with cancer and you're dying right now and you're going to leave your kids and hubby alone just like your mom did. What would their life be like? Cycle back to the beginning and start over. Let's beat this dead horse to a bloody pulp, shall we? I mean, you don't really need sleep, right? It's not like you have to get up in the morning. Oh, wait, yes you do! Ha! Hey, let's sing "She's a maniac!" She's a maniac! Maniac on the floor! And she's dancing like she's never danced before. Tra La La.

Yeah - this is my brain. And it's no wonder I'm tired all the time. Leave it to my brain to give me something else to stress about that I have no control over. One thing is for sure, I'm going to get every cancer screening I can think of. Hateful disease. Stupid anxiety.

TTFN
JMS

Me vs. My Traitorous Mind

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please watch this video BEFORE reading the post below.

Watching this video, I realized yet again, that I am not the only one who has this problem. BUT, for every person who has anxiety issues, there are just as many people who don’t, cannot, or refuse to, understand the anxious person. I’m no doctor, but neither can I explain WHY I feel or think the things I do.

Granted, a lot of the things I think or feel might not be true, at least as far as the non-anxious person is concerned, but the things ARE true to me.

I DO feel fat and ugly and useless and good for nothing and…(I won’t go on)…even while at the same time I know those things aren’t really true.  Yes, I may be overweight and average-looking (who really cares, right?) but I am not useless and good for nothing. And see…even as I type that my brain is working against me: But what about all those days you come home from work and do nothing except crawl into bed, huh? What about those times? What about when you just want to be left alone and don’t want to talk to anyone, even your family, when all they want is your time and attention?

Well, I can’t explain it. I’m tired. Really, actually, truthfully tired. And it’s not just a physical exhaustion, it’s a mental one – which is even harder to explain. I’ve spent all day “people-ing” and I just don’t have it in me to “people” any more. And every time I hear my name I cringe inside. And stuffing my ears with an audiobook doesn’t help, because I get interrupted anyway. I cannot ever tune out 100% as I want to.

And yes, dammit, it’s freaking selfish. I know it’s selfish. But it’s also self-preservation. And – if I’m being honest – I’m preserving others, too. The 11^th Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Harm Self or Others. That’s an institutionalizing offense!

So, when I express aloud that I feel a certain way, and it’s irrational and confusing to you, by the love of all that is holy, please, let it go. (No, I won’t sing.) Just assume it’s my anxiety talking and go with it. Trying to question me, or make me see things a different way, only makes me more anxious and then I yell. Or cry. Or some snotty, tearful combination of both. Suffice it to say, it gets ugly.

Every day I tell myself how awful I look because I FEEL AWFUL!

Every day I wake up and want to immediately put my head right back down on the pillow and IGNORE MY RESPONSIBILITIES in lieu of sleep. Sleep is good. But then I have insomnia, too. So, I have trouble sleeping - both getting there and staying there. And my legs are restless which is SO ANNOYING.

Every day I have to force a smile when I speak to most people. I have to qualify that: MOST people. Not ALL people. There are some people who do not make me anxious, but they’re very few. And people as a general whole, en masse? Nope. Sorry. I’ll stay in bed, thanks.

Every day I tell myself how others feel negatively toward me, no matter what they might say aloud to the contrary. I’m convinced I’m not worth anyone’s real love, attention, or respect.

BUT I STILL TRY. I still try to DO IT ANYWAY. I’ve said this before. I try to get up anyway. Go to work anyway. Talk to people anyway. Smile and be friendly anyway.

And today isn’t any different.

I cannot say doing it all anyway is strength or courage. It isn’t. It’s a survival mechanism.

And you don't want to hear all this crap anyway.

TTFN

JMS

Wild Things

If you have anyone else living in your home (doesn't matter who) have you ever felt like you're constantly stepping on, stepping over, stepping around or picking up stuff that doesn't belong wherever it is? (Usually on the floor.)

I had a rough night last night. I watched the time on the clock slowly creep toward midnight and was still mentally wired. I had a zillion things zinging around inside my skull so it was impossible to settle. As my brain played pinball, (TILT!) I fussed at things, picked stuff up, looked through a file for something I was trying to find, did laundry, fixed the dishwasher, took the trash out (twice), made sure everything I could recycle was in the recycle bin, scooped the litter box, and generally buzzed around (another analogy) like a fly caught in a Mason jar.

Eventually, I gravitated toward the bedroom realizing that the clock had gone well past midnight and was closing solidly in on 2:30AM. Physically, I was exhausted. Mentally, I was wired. Those two things don't make for restful sleep. Further, both fur kids decided it was time to seek revenge for earlier in the day when I played Alpha Female and captured them to clip nails and apply their monthly flea meds. There was much roaring of terrible roars, gnashing of terrible teeth, rolling of terrible eyes, and showing of terrible claws. (Usually directed at my feet under the covers.) Thanks, Maurice Sendak.

Needless to say, I'm not myself today. I'm tired, my head feels fuzzy, and I can't concentrate very well. Thank goodness for being busy or I'd be taking a nap under my desk. I'm expecting a busy night tonight, as well. Maybe I'll be able to get in bed before 10PM?

Wish me luck!

TTFN
JMS

Tidbits

I'm getting old.

I find my lack of Christmas Spirit is disturbing.  (See what I did there, you Star Wars fans?)

Did I already mention I'm getting old?

My coffee tastes like rancid cat urine, but I'm so desperate for caffeine right now that I don't care.  And yes, I know that's gross.  

Puppets are fun.  They give me an opportunity to be someone else for a little while.  The kids found a Lambchop puppet the other day and hubby bought it for me.  I'm no Shari Lewis, but I think I can probably make this work.  At least it will be fun to try.

I need the following VITs (Very. Important. Things.):

• Someone to fix my bathroom.  We have one bathroom in the house and it's kinda falling apart.  Anyone feel like donating expertise?  Tools?  Time?  Funds?  I would very much like to avoid taking a bath in a tub that has fallen into the crawl space below the house.
• New bedroom furniture.  At least a new bed.  I don't think I, or my hubby, can take any more waking up in pain every morning.
• Living room furniture.  Notice I did not say NEW living room furniture?  We don't have any.  Having good friends who just got new furniture admittedly makes me a tad jealous, but truthfully, I'd take just about any sofa that doesn't smell of the above-mentioned rancid cat urine, cigarettes, or body odor.  And yes, I know that's gross, too.
• Sleep.  A lot of sleep.

However, even though I'm a Grinch this year, and feeling like I need to seriously win the lottery, I am trying to foster a thankfulness mentality in my children - to be constantly thankful.  Therefore, I am thankful for my house and the fact that my house has bathroom at all, the coffee I do have, my sweet family, my job, the little space heater that keeps me from freezing at the office, my little car, being able to read, the calendar above my monitor that reminds me tomorrow is another day, the Dilbert cartoon on my wall which makes me smile, the little hand-made notes and pictures my kiddos make for me, the cardboard trophy given to me by girl-child proclaiming me to be the best mom in the world, coffee (don't care if I've already said it), puppets, and chocolate and mint flavored candies.  The list of things I am thankful for far outweighs the things that should fall into the deepest, darkest pits of Moria.

This will probably be the last post of 2015 so hope your holidays are merry and bright and that your New Year celebrations are life affirming!

TTFN
JMS

The more, more, more mentality

I talked a little bit about my recent experience with a prescription cough medicine.  And while on the surface I’ll say that typically I’m leery of that kind of medicine and, frankly, it tends to make me sick, I’m very glad I had it this time around.  It was helpful and practically stopped my cough in its tracks.

You need to understand that when I say “that kind of medicine” I mean a low-level narcotic medication or prescription narcotics in general.  It was a hydrocodone combo with an allergy medicine.  And, though I was instructed to, in no uncertain terms, take only the teaspoon prescribed to me, what the doctor didn't know – couldn't know – is that I wouldn't have taken it at all had I realized what it was.  It never occurred to me.  I just knew it was medicine to help with my cough.  I knew what it was, but didn't realize what it was…if that makes any sense.

When I took my little teaspoon of the stuff before bed, I knew it would put me out – the doctor told me it would – but didn't realize that it would be like a slow, warm, ooze into dreamland.  Syrupy and sweet and comfortable.  And while I was drifting contentedly toward the general direction of sleep, I remember distinctly thinking to myself, “A teaspoon wasn't enough.  Maybe you need more?  More…  More…  more…  more…”  And as soon as that thought ran through my mind I bolted back out of the drift and thought – lucidly – “NO!  Stick with the instructions the doctor gave you, no matter what!”  And was, quite honestly, a little surprised that the thought had crossed my mind to begin with.

Then, as I lay there recovering from my start, I thought, “What devil or whatever put that thought into my head?  ‘Cause it certainly wasn't me!”  And I wonder now, in daylight, in complete lucidity, if those kind of thoughts are what plague an addict?  “Must eat/drink/take more, more, more…!”  Whatever the situation is; whatever the chosen addiction may be.  Does more, more, more pervade every waking – and sometimes sleeping – thought?  And later I wondered if that's also the kind of thinking that causes people to fail in things like diets, for example (which I know isn't the same thing).  I don’t know, but it's something to think about.

I'm not an addict.  I used to be addicted to cigarettes, but now I'm not – and that road was tough!  But that's honestly as close as I can come to understanding the true addict's mentality.  Which is a fancy way of saying I can't understand.  Unless you count that screwy errant thought which ran through my head the other night as I was heading off to La-La-Land.  And that, frankly, scares the hell out of me; that maybe I could be easily swayed by the lure of those kinds of medications.  I now can no longer think, when I hear of others who became addicted to pain meds or whatever else, that it couldn't and/or wouldn't happen to me.  I don’t think any of us is immune.  What I DO think, though, is that it’s another notch in the plus column for a little something called Will Power, which is not the same thing as Free Will.

TTFN

JMS

That elusive thing called Sleep

As most of you probably have figured out, I love sleep just about as much as I love coffee.  Sleep, however, is becoming more and more elusive for me and I must say: I really don’t like it.  (Hubby would probably be making comments here right now about snoring and stealing covers, but he rarely reads my blog so, whatever.  It’s funny, the person I most want to read my blog…doesn’t.  I don’t think it’s because he doesn’t care, he just doesn’t want to take the time to read all these words.  It is the same with when I’m telling him something face to face; there comes a point in any conversation where I can see he’s tuned me out and isn’t really listening anymore.  It’s OK.  I’m pretty sure it’s a guy thing.)

Anyway – back to sleep.  Or, more accurately, the lack of it.

So the other night it was about 11:30 and I had put away Netflix for the evening because I felt it was in my best interest to attempt a few hours of sleep in order to be fully prepared for work the next day.  (This would have been Sunday night, I believe.)  Here’s how that went:

Flop.

                                Shift.

                                                                Flop again.

                                                                                                Sigh.

Hm…I’ve never noticed that red light before, I wonder what that is...?

                Flop.  Sigh.

                                What time is it?

                11:40 PM.

                                                Sit up.  Pound pillow in frustration.  Adjust, adjust.  Sigh.

Blink, blink.  That street light is awfully bright.  I really need to get some black out curtains.

                Hm…I wonder what time it is?

                                                11:45 PM.

Crap.  Am I gonna do this all night?

Flop.  Adjust, adjust.  I think I might need a snack.

                                No, you don’t need a snack, dummy!  It’s almost midnight and you’re counting calories.

But…please?

                NO!  Stay where you are…I’m warning you!

                                But…can’t I just go look in the fridge?

Oh, for heaven’s sake!

                                                FLOP!  SIGH!  POUND POUND!  Crap!  Did I just wake up hubby?

This, essentially, went on in a similar form or fashion until about 2:30 AM when my exhausted brain and body finally gave in to that elusive thing called sleep.  I woke at 5:15 AM to take my thyroid medicine (as I always do), fully expecting to sleep another 30-45 minutes (as I always do) but NO-OOO!  I was awake now.  Not as in simply not asleep anymore.  I was A-W-A-K-E!

Dammit.

OK. 

So, going back to the Netflix thing.  It seems to be that the more occupied my brain is with other things the less likely I am to sleep.  I try to numb my brain into submission by occupying it with something else, like reading (which doesn’t work as well as it used to) or, now, Netflix or Amazon Prime movies and TV shows.  If I’m watching a movie, I choose something I’ve seen so that I might grow bored earlier and drift off to the Land of Nod without missing something exciting, or, at the very least interesting.  If I’m watching a TV show, it’s harder because if the show is good, I want to binge watch and immediately move right on to the next episode, and the next, and the next, and before I know it it’s nearly midnight…again.

Reading used to help a lot.  I’d get into a book and, regardless of how good the book was, I’d eventually get to a point where I realized I was reading the same sentence over and over and over again.  I’m off reading right now, though.  I haven’t found anything lately that piques my interest and I don’t want to re-read any of my old standbys.  I guess I’m in a Reading Rut.

I know there are a bazillion tricks that people all over the world have to help one sleep.  Counting sheep, sleeping on your left side instead of your right, changing your pillow, adding a pillow, removing a pillow, turning down the house temperature, meditating (something I’ve NEVER been good at, though I’ve tried hundreds of times), warm milk (ick), warm bath…  The list goes on and on.

Counting sheep bores me.  I already sleep on my left side.  I switch out my pillow situation about every other night.  Hubby keeps the house temp at 67° at night anyway, which is either too cold, or too warm.  And that’s another thing, I’m usually TOO WARM.  But if I kick off the covers, then I’m too cold.  If I cover up, and kick one foot/leg out that helps, but then when I turn over I get all woozled (yes, woozled) up and I have to start all over again.

I won’t bore you with more.  I’m sure, if you’re human (and possibly a female human in her forties) you’ve been through this.  I envy those who can put their head on a pillow and be out like a light in about thirty seconds (ahem…girl-child!).  My friend, Scoop, can put his head down, be asleep in about thirty seconds, sleep hard for like five minutes, and wake up completely refreshed and ready to go.  I’ve never understood folks like that.

Anyway – wish me luck.  This time, it’s been about a week since I’ve slept through the night.  Not taking into account the night when I took some cold medicine and was down for the count.  That’s medicated sleep, which I do not recommend as a viable alternative to the real thing.

TTFN

JMS

Writing in the present, reading about the past

For those of you who don’t know, I tend write these posts a day or two ahead of time.  I love the schedule option afforded to me by Blogger.  For example, as I write this, it is Thursday evening, the twelfth of February, 2015.  I am currently sitting in bed feeling quite pleased with myself at having made a pair of navy blue hand/wrist/arm warmers out of a very well-loved but much too small pair of girl-child’s old tights.  I’m crafty like that.  I just grabbed the pair of super-sharp scissors out of my bedside table drawer and after 6 snips – TA DA! – comfy warm things I can wear while I type.  My fingers are still kinda cold, but I’m toasty warm up to my elbows!  Go me.

Anyway, I just spent the evening with girl-child.  She started out kinda grumpy but pretty soon managed to dig down deep and find her happy.  We took a trip to the Greens of Wal and purchased some super-groovy Valentine’s Day cards for her classmates.  Then, at home, she spent a very happy 30-40 minutes filling out the cards and making a special one for her teacher.  There was even humming involved.  Humming usually means relaxed and content girl-child.  Humming is a good sign.  You don't want to interrupt the humming girl-child or relaxed and content may be in jeopardy.

After that, she and I played a few rounds of 4 Pics 1 Word.  She’s super good at that game and tends to be a lot faster than I am.  Then boy-child came home with Hubby and, though he came and joined us for a few minutes, he sorta broke the moment.  Not that I wasn’t happy to see him – he’s a goober and I adore him – but girl-child and I were doing fine without him and boy-child is nothing if not competitive.  I’m sure you can see the problem.  There began the pushy-shovey-my-turns and I finally had to call the game and kick them both outta the room.  Sheesh!

It took absolutely ages to get everyone in jammies with teeth brushed and tucked in bed with kisses and hugs and dream-lites making blue star patterns on ceilings.  But now that young'uns are settled and I am able to settle a little bit, too – I realize that I am bone tired and my brain is mush.  I am more scattered than usual.  (Probably the reason for this very poorly written, all over the place post.  Sorry.)  

I am very much looking forward to tomorrow night, which is actually Friday, because remember, you're probably reading this on Saturday so tomorrow night as I type is actually last night when you’ll be reading this.

Confused yet?  So am I.

I think I need to go to bed.

TTFN

JMS

Patience vs. Will Power vs. Caffiene

• For all those times when all you want to do is stay snuggled, safe and warm, in your bed and ignore your alarm clock because it’s cold or rainy outside and really, what’s your motivation?  
• For all the times you say “no” to your alarm clock.  Or the dog who has to go outside to pee.  Or to your own bladder, for that matter (ha!  How clever am I?)  Or the child who got up at the BCOD.
• For all those times you say to yourself just five more minutes and then those five minutes turn into ten, then twenty and now, suddenly, you’re going to be late. 
• For all those times that you think I really don’t need a shower (yes, you really do, I promise) so you use the time you would have taken up by showering to catch a few more minutes of shut-eye. 
• For all those times when you’re allergy-ridden and therefore you resort to a full dose of medication like Benadryl or Zyrtec and then the next morning (and possibly well into the next afternoon) you are decidedly zombie-like.
• For all those times when you’re sitting at your desk trying desperately to focus on the task at hand but your chin somehow keeps winding up in your hand and you continually find your head inching closer and closer to a full face-plant on the keyboard.  (Just imagine the pretty, lettered impressions on your cheek.)
• For all those times when it takes everything in your power not to shove your chair back, kick your feet up on the nearest elevated surface, lean as far back as your chair will allow and just close your eyes for two minutes all the while knowing if that actually happens there will be a full-on Drool & Snore Fest.

TTFN
JMS

You ain’t got nothing on me!

Move over Red Bull.  Take a hike Five Hour Energy.

One of the most important parts of my morning routine is…of course…coffee.  First, I pick up my mug.  Then, I take a trip down the hall to the break room to wash out said mug.  Then, I stride with purpose back down the hall to my office and proceed to select one lucky K-cup from the spinny-thing on the coffee bar.  I open the maw of King Keurig, pop in the proffered offering, and pierce it through with joyful anticipation bordering on glee.  I usually yawn once or twice, just for good measure, while I wait for King Keurig to spew forth its beautiful, lava-esque liquid.  Strong Coffee, Ultra-Strong Coffee, and Holy-Crap-That’s-Bracing-GASP-Just-Let-Me-Catch-My-Breath-And-Wipe-My-Eyes-Before-You-Try-To-Talk-To-Me-Coffee.  Yeah.  That’s the stuff.

Cream? Nope.  Sugar?  Definitely not.  Why ruin a good thing?

Oh Jen…why?

Because Death Wish Coffee – that’s why.  The most beautiful sacrifice King Keurig has ever, or will ever, touch.  It slices, it dices, it kick’s sleep’s ass.  It’s the best thing since sliced bread.

Wait!  Seriously?  Death Wish Coffee?  You’re kidding, right?  I sincerely hope you’re kidding!

Nope.  It’s awesome.  You, oh coffee-lover extraordinaire, must get some.  Take it from me (in this totally unsolicited, absolutely from-the-heart, truest form of flattery “advertisement” for the brown grounds that are made of awesome) if you truly love coffee in its purest form this is the caffeinated beverage you’ve been dreaming about all your life.

Don’t believe me?  Go to http://www.deathwishcoffee.com for proof. 

TTFN
JMS