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.

THREE IN A ROW

This may seem unremarkable, and very sad, but today will mark the third day in a row that I actually leave the house (by car) if I go to Allstate later and pay my premium per my plan. For those of you who know me are probably experiencing some form of shock. Yes, I have become a recluse.


Day one was my trip to see my doctor. That really wasn't a great day. However, I did leave the house and so it counts. My driving skills are beginning to frighten me. Actually it isn't so much the driving but the remembering. And that has been frightening me for a long time. It was really bad when I lived here and was working. I'd be in my territory and forget how to get to an account I'd been to a million times. Then I'd have an anxiety attack while I was driving because I couldn't remember how to get where I was going and I knew I should. I got lost going to my doctor's office. Not lost, lost. Just wrong turn lost. I got found again. It didn't give me an anxiety attack; it just made me mad.


On day two I remembered the rest of what Debbie Strait said about filing for disabilitity... all of the work involved. I spent most of the day drowning out her voice by playing on facebook and writing a nice blog about my dog. I wanted to think about ANYTHING else. My mom had made plans to have dinner over at my aunt's house. My mom cooked dinner and took it over because my aunt had a biopsy done yesterday and she knew that she wouldn't feel like cooking. All prayers for her are appreciated:-)


I was still writing my Shelby blog and wasn't quite ready to go and drove separately since they only live a mile and a half away. I don't know what it is about the car but someday someone is going to name a band Drivin' and Thinkin' because that is invariably what happens when I get in there. Dontcha know I got lost going to my aunt's house since I was so lost in thought! Not really lost but I had to turn around and figure out where the heck I was. Anyway, I will explain my vision flashes because that's what they were for me: flashes. You get the long version.


Back in December 2005 I was divorced but very sick and my parents had already moved to FL. At Christmas they came to me because there was no chance of it being the other way around. The look on my mother's face when she walked into my house was priceless. My house was a disaster. It was paper everywhere. I hadn't eaten in my dining room since Rob and the kids moved out. I had stacks of mail all over the table, all around the floor surrounding the table, it had creeped into the living room, smaller stacks were in the kitchen, den, office, etc. My mother is super-organized. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She spent the rest of that trip trying to find my bills. I got 2-3 pieces of work mail daily, junk mail, and bills all mixed together. She had her work cut out for her.

I learned later in Divorce Recovery Group that hiding your mail like that is a subconscious coping method that people use when they know that they aren't making enough money to pay their bills. How true that was. I can't tell you many times my lights, water, etc, were cut off and I had to call my dad saying, "Help, I'm in the dark/without water, etc."


Overlay all of that with Debbie's voice telling me I needed to be super-organized to get SSD because the government is one big red tape machine that only cares about facts. It wants facts. What meds did you take for how long, etc. Holy crap. This all started back in 2001. I'm writing down when I take my pain pills because I can't remember so I don't overdose myself. I can't even remember my neurologist's name from back in 2003! Fear is the great immobilizer. I could feel myself spiraling down and that is how I missed my aunt's house.

Earlier today, I read a blog I've been following (A DELIBERATE LIFE). For right now, you will have to go to my profile and look at blogs I follow until I can figure out how to move what I want onto my main page (eeks!). She is waging her own war on her weight and she has been winning *yeah* until she hit her own roadblock. She used a chicken coop metaphor that I won't ruin for you. The thing is this: we all reach a place where we have to make a decision of which fear is greater. Hers has to do with her weight and her history. Mine has to do with wading through a lot bureaucratic medical bullcrap that will take time, money (I am going to have to go back to each doctor/hospital for a history and some will charge for this stuff by the page), and it will be migraine-causing, BUT I will have the information that I need or I can do nothing and continue to cause my parents to suffer and still have a migraine. It's always a no-brainer in the end. You just have to kick down that wall of fear to see it.


As for me, I have to try and find some visually interesting pictures for you and then I have a car insurance payment to make. I hope I find the Allstate office....