CAN YOU THROW SHOES AND STILL BE ZEN?

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When I first moved in with my parents four years ago I felt like one raw nerve. Pretty much anything could set me off, and did. Moves are stressful. Most of my stuff went into storage. Some of my stuff that was supposed to go to FL went into storage and vice versa. Finding my things became my enemy. Pretty much anytime I needed anything it ended with me not finding it, and closing the door to my room to have a long cry. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. It seemed like this happened daily. You can only go on like that for so long before you hit a place of acceptance or denial. I don't know which one I hit, but the crying stopped and I just chilled out abut the whole thing. Whenever someone asked for something I hadn't seen in a long time, they got the shoulder shrug and a "beats the hell out me" answer. That may not have served me all that well in some cases. For instance, I only got my 2006 taxes done last year, but I am now caught up. The important thing was I knew I couldn't keep pace with that level of anxiety. I was already one big migraine and that was not helping my recovery. I had to learn how to let go.

So, what's up nutterbutter? Why this blog if you're all zen now? I'm losing my zen. I've been trying to hold on to it all day long, but I'm at tolerance right now. I'm really close to throwing things. I am not sure what comes after that. I've been avoiding the cry because they give me the worst sinus headache. Have you ever had a sinus headache and a migraine at the same time? Misery, let me tell ya. I prefer throwing things, like shoes.

Here's the deal. I'm not very organized. Say what? I know. It's crazy. I live in this tiny, little room and it's chaos in here. I really should be institutionalized for that alone. Who does that? Me. So, I have this really horribly expensive medication just lying in the morass of junk on the right side of the bed that no one sleeps in. Since no one sleeps there, I think it should be functional. Therefore, it harbors my stuff. It got thrown into the heap when my mom picked it up for me at the pharmacy, and it only got pulled out today because today was when I NEEDED it.


Here's the part that turns me into the maniacal bag lady pushing her shopping cart down Main Street: the bag was open and my pills were gone. Huh? It is a mystery. I have zero recollection of opening the bag, so I also don't remember touching the bottle, ergo I have NO IDEA where my pills are. I NEED MY PILLS DAMMIT. I didn't go to crazy quite that quickly when this first happened. I was actually still pretty cool. I cleared all the debris off the bed first thing. Smart, right? No pills. I moved everything from around the bed. Nothing. I looked under the bed. There's actually nothing under there. I was shocked. Moving on... By now, I have started doing some praying. Serious asking for help. I go to the bathroom, just in case I took the bottle in there, and actually put it away and forgot. Nope. It isn't there. I decided to backburner it and calm down.

An hour later my mom gets home and we do the same routine with a flashlight. I can feel myself starting to lose it. We stop. I tell her to pray about it; perhaps God is just not listening to me today, but her prayers might get through. I wait a few hours and go again. This time I am pissed. It is a SMALL ROOM. I have asked several times and those pills are not being given. I need those pills. I can't just say, "Oh well, when they turn up it will all be good" like I did with my CDs and other material stuff.

I can feel myself about to melt down. I decide to listen to a meditiational CD. It is either that or throw things. CD it is.

It is now one and a half hours later from the initial writing (meaning everthing you just read). We have eaten dinner and my stepdad has been brought up to speed on the missing meds. So, after dinner he did a thorough sweep of my room and bathroom and came up empty-handed. I go back to the last bottle of pills that I do have. It is dated December. I go to the bag that I do have. It is dated January. Holy tomoly. I didn't pick up my February prescription. And my forgetfulness about taking my medication is actually working for me instead of against me. What are the odds???? BTW, I just recently added this med to the list of "meds I write down because I can't remember if/when I take them."



So, my stepdad is at the pharmacy right now getting my prescription filled and my mother is convinced that the "lost" bottle will turn up where we least expect it. I will let you know if/when/where that happens. Ooooh. My Zen is back and it feels sooooo good.

THE THINGS WE SELL OURSELVES

Do you know how to make a long story short and still make it good?  I don't.  I try.  I tell myself that I am going to be concise and I still end up with a Dickens novel.  Seriously.  I promise to try.  Maybe I will just use key words and phrases instead of full sentences and abort punctuation altogether.   Wouldn't that make it more confusing rather than less?  I think I hear a clock ticking.

I moved to FL and in with my parents in 2006 because of bad migraines.  Really bad migraines.  Doctor said 2-3 years of no-stress/low stress along with meds and vitamins and I could be back in business.  I didn't believe her.  Kept doing and bringing stressful things into my life, wouldn't quit my job and didn't get better.  Hmmmmm.  Eventually it started to sink in.  So I traded one for the other.  And then back again.  I never could quite get the hang of it.  When my parents decided to move back to GA I was working a part-time no-stress/low stress job and doing okay with that.  It was four days on, three off.  The first three were good.  The last day I was dragging.  I never have been a morning person.  Never.  And that last day kicked my butt every week.  I got a call out of the blue from a sales company looking to hire an outside sales person in their GA territory, same business I was in before I moved.  I am thinking this is fate.  It is meant to be.  I am ready for a full-time sales job.  I am ready to reclaim my life.  I am ready to actually have money again.  Praise be to God.  The buy on the house fell through.  However, someone else bought the house a few months later.  When I got to GA the company had just hired someone else that morning.  But they were going to need more people soon.  All was not lost.

All of my belongings were still here in storage since I always planned on coming back to GA, so we pulled my mattress and box spring out and set me up.  A month and a half later and I was down.  Way down.  I was in migraine hell.  It was like I never left.  Any ground I gained in Florida was gone.  Any thoughts of full-time employment were gone.  Even part-time employment was out of the question.  Each day it was an effort just to get out of bed.  Never does the thought even occur to me that I am sleeping on dust and mold galore.  Fortunately someone in my house has their brain plugged in and suggests that maybe the bed is full of dust and mold (lightbulb).  I am highly allergic to dust and mold.  I guess that explains the previously unexplainable rash that has taken over my entire body, too.  I did see a doctor about that one and it went away until the medicine ran out.  Bye bye mattress and box spring.  New mattress, new box spring.  Mild improvement on migraines.  You heard me.  Mild improvement on migraines.  That mattress/box spring incident was the equivalent of a nuclear bomb to my immune system.

The thing you should be asking is this:  if you were so healthy how could you be compromised so easily?  That, ladies and gentlman, is the million dollar question.  I posted my resume on monster.com right after the job I thought I was going to get fell through.  I received a call four days ago requesting an interview.  I explained that I was ill and needed to remove my resume and apologized, but it got me to thinking.  Before I left Flordia, I sold myself on the idea that I could work a full-time sales job knowing full well what that meant (more than 40 hours a week) when I could barely work a 32 hour/wk no stress/low stress part time job.  Then I thought about the medications I was taking in FL at the time of the move... Rx anxiety meds, anti-depressants, pain killers, nausea meds, and I supplemented all of that regularly with over-the-counter Excedrin Tension Headache because it works better than Excedrin Migraine.  What was I thinking?  Not only did I sell I myself on this clearly delusional idea of a full-time sales job, but I sold both of my parents on it!  Is this how people become liars?  They just want something to be true so badly that they convince themselves that it is true and, therefore, it becomes true in their own mind?