Selfish

Yup, that's me. I'm a big, flabby self-centered mess.

I mean, I get that it certainly wasn't Jill's intention to set me back in the grief department. When she was going about her business this week as a licensed realtor or taking care of her kids (her son's probably too young even to understand what's happened), she certainly didn't expect to be robbed of life and transformed to spirit so soon. 32 years old, 2 little kids...it seriously makes me want to scream. But more than that is how it's not just bringing death back to the forefront in my life; it's the idea that it could happen to me or someone in my age group. And that's just unacceptable. Denial all over again. I was just starting to pass into anger and leave denial behind, and it comes back with a vengeance. This couldn't possibly happen to me. I have too much to do. I ache for her family; how will they make peace with this? It's one thing when it happens like it did to my friend Gretchen's mom...she died in a car accident last winter, but it was CT and they knew that she hit a patch of black ice and there was nothing that could've prevented it. But Jill's family may never know if she dozed off at the wheel or swerved to avoid hitting an animal or something. I've heard people calling her accident tragic, but that word doesn't begin to describe it for me. Yup, the word unacceptable covers it in my book.

I'm going to the funeral tomorrow mainly to pay my respects to Jill, who I respected as a team leader and appreciated as a friend when I knew her. But I'm also going because I know to do so will help me heal and make me a little stronger. This has been a very hard week; I backslid to crying at work when I found out on Wednesday, and yesterday I indulged in comfort food while the voices inside my head screamed at me all day for wasting my life in my cube, editing websites so people can sell things that other people don't need, contributing to the throwaway society that I find so reprehensible. The little black cloud locked itself down on top of my head, and it wasn't until I pulled out the random wrap to knit on when I got home, that I began to feel like I could breathe again. When I finish that sucker, I'm going to need to start another one, I think. There's a strangely therapeutic quality to random knitting.

I'm sick of being able to see the Thestrals!

My friend and former colleague, Jill Garrido, was killed this morning in a one-car accident. No seatbelt. Maybe dozed off for a second at the wheel and overcorrected, flipping her vehicle several times and ejecting her. She was 32...has 2 small kids. I ache all over again.

I don't understand a god that would take a mother from her kids like that. What's the f-ing point? To teach them that you should always wear a seatbelt? There's gotta be a less excruxiating way to drive that home. I took an early lunch and couldn't stop crying while I drove to run errands (granted, not the safest way to travel either, but I was extra careful given the sitch). I want to scream all over again. I want to go to her funeral but I know I wouldn't be able to handle it; it's just too soon. I want to hold her kids and tell them about their mom. I want this not to have happened.

Check for an eclipse.....

...or evidence that the earth has done a 180 on its axis...well, there was that earthquake in Peru, and Dean's currently a CAT5.....hmm.......

Last night, Melanie did something extremely rare for her personality. EXTREMELY.

She worked out. Exercised. Performed a complete weightlifting scenario.

::pause for the collective gasp of surprise::

Maybe the key lies in not planning, not making a huge deal about it. Just recognizing that it needs to be a natural part of your routine. Whenever I tell myself during the day that I want to work out, 9.85 times out of 10 it plain doesn't happen come end of the day. Guilt happens instead. Chocolate happens.

Last night was different. Wasn't even thinking about it. I got home and wasn't hungry yet, so I decided to do some stretching. I've been off Celebrex for a couple of days now, and thank goodness, my back seems to be better. Lack of snacking due to lack of funds has caused me to drop those four or five lithium pounds I'd added back on (well, it definitely feels that way anyway...haven't jumped on a scale yet, but you know how it is when your pants start fitting nice again and when you suck it in, you recognize those old friends, your ribs). So I'm feeling a touch better about myself, just a little stiffness in the lower back that I knew I could work out with some flexibility exercises. So I throw down my workout mat (because my yoga mat is buried in a sad heap next to the easy chair), and start with sun salutation. And when I'm down enjoying Cobra pose, my line of sight is directly next to where I keep the bag with my weights, the air pump for my Bean®, and where I'm pretty sure I last stashed the Kathy Smith Lift Weights to Lose Weights book. The book I promised myself I wouldn't start until I was sure I wouldn't be ruining it by writing in like, 2 pages and then giving up. And something flooded through me, I finished sun salutation, pulled out what I needed, and proceeded to do Day 1 all the way through. Minimum reps, reading carefully...I'll lower the weight on the triceps and lats for Day 2, but for the most part, not hard at all. And SO. Freakin'. Energizing. Today I'm sore, but it's good sore...it's "hey let's go for a walk and work out this soreness after work" sore. Now I just need to find the willpower to stay in my chair at work and not go walking, like, NOW.

Was grumbling to myself as I was getting ready for work, that I wouldn't mind being up this early if it was for a nicer reason.....like, because I'd already milked the cow, fed the chickens, and put the sheep and goats out to pasture. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to put my kneepads on and weed the squash and pumpkin patch before the heat gets to be too much.

It sure is a nice place inside my head these days.

Manic Monday

So the kimono had the towel thrown in on it...it was vexing me for some reason, or I'd just had enough of knitting baby stuff. Well, that can't exactly be it, because I'm thinking of starting a baby blanket for no one in partic. (in other words, wishful thinking). But I finished the bumblebee hat and booties (pic coming) and threw in an aloe for good measure for my boss (woohoo! One down, 7-something to go!). I'll take pics of my aloe soon too. Kind of before-and-afters...it just dawned on me that people, friends, family, poor slobs I meet on the street, etc., will be more receptive to acquiring the aloe if it's in a smallish container. I currently have it in, I think, about five medium to large containers (not including the Big Boys), which could semi-easily be broken down into smaller cuttings.

I realize that growing aloe in Florida is kind of like growing cactus in Arizona (not a toughie), but I'm still damn proud of my haul. Our friends Steve and Lynn gave us one cutting probably 5 or 6 years ago, and from thence cometh my porch garden. It's probably the only thing I can grow on that porch...the western exposure means it catches full sun in the afternoon, and in the summer that can be murder for your average plant. I'm still hoping to try some herbs and veggies out there this coming year; I know I'll be tending them more carefully than I've done in the past. I just hope there's a semi-green thumb in my psyche.....my mominlaw can pinch a leaf off of something, give it its own pot, and have a flourishing plant a week later. My mom, on the other hand, killed a cactus once. I'm hoping to be somewhere in the middle.

Ok, bear with me...

Just downloaded more pics from the digicam...feeling very pleased with myself. See, the ones on the right side of the blog I stole from my Dad's Everlasting Memorial website (is that grave robbing?).

These pics were more from the CT trip...

The Warren Congregational Church, Warren, CT




The photo is Mom & Dad's wedding, January 21, 1967 at St. Jerome's Catholic in Norwalk, CT (and of course, Dad sits in front of the picture)




Me, Lil Sis, & Lil Bro (Whaddaya want? We're Irish...there's an excellent chance all three of us were tight.)




My Uncle Dan's 1927 Model T Ford (no better way to blow off steam after a funeral than going for a drive in that beauty! Yes, it runs!)

It's nice being able to look back on that trip and feel happy. It was so good to see everyone; we got back in touch with cousins we hadn't seen in 20+ years. I look forward to saving and going back.

Hit the library to start some preliminary study on agriculture. Managed to finish the hat and booties...if I ever get off this computer, I'll put a row or three on the kimono.

Lizards and light hearts

I'm definitely doing ok these days. Downright unsettling. Meara thinks we've switched personalities. I'm alternating fairly easily between the happiness and the grief, but it feels healthy, not bipolar ::wry grin:: I'm so happy at the end of the day to be home with Husby, doing little things like cooking and cleaning, while later when I was knitting the bumblebee hat (for the boss's little one), I found myself weeping for my children who will only know their Lyons Grand-Sir through stories. I know he'll see them and know them, but it's so not the same, and it makes me ache.

The lizards I'm referring to in the title are the ones that run rampant in Florida...I'm guessing they're also pretty prolific in states like Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico, but this is definitely a dilemma reserved for the significantly southern states. I'm referring to driving down the road and realizing you have an unexpected visitor clinging for dear life to the hood or wipers of your car. I'm impressed by the strength and tenacity of small critters like that; I'll never forget a trip home to campus (Tampa) from Wachulla years back, where I discovered that my under-hood areas were populated by dozens of tree frogs who'd made the trip back with me. Well, this morning one of the little buggers showed himself as I was getting onto 95, too late to pull over and offer him his freedom. I felt bad...as a granola, I've developed a soft spot for just about everything except snakes and hard-backed insects, but I was stuck on the highway and so watched him (and the road occasionally), as he positioned himself away from the worst of the wind. We're talking a lizard no more than 2 inches in length, hanging onto the wiper arm facing me while his tail whipped back and forth and his little neck caught the currents. Finally he slid down under the hood somewhere, and I had fantasies of him flying into the car via the air-conditioning vents...with a tiny little yell of "whoo-aaaah!" and landing on my cheek (I hadn't had my coffee yet. And I've been watching a lot of "Scrubs" lately...).

Couldn't find him when I got to work : ( Probably did all that fighting only to slide out of my car and promptly get squashed by the next vehicle. Such is life.

Had to rush the pot roast prep, so I wasn't happy with the outcome...certainly edible, but not deserving praise. I need to look up more brisket recipes; it's too easy to create the same flavor every time with a meat like that. Bumblebee hat almost to the decrease point, kimono withering from neglect, but Kyle XY and Closer had my attention as well last night.

3 Months

Denial vs. survival.....I'm starting to push the thoughts out of the way when they come at inopportune times. But I'm certainly still dealing rather well, letting myself cry, had two decent breakdowns this weekend . . . just finding myself saving it for less public times. That's gotta be a natural evolution; I mean, people let you weep in the early days, wherever, whenever, but now that a reasonable amount of time has gone by (reasonable to whom is certainly a question), it becomes less seemly somehow to let yourself grieve in public. I know I shouldn't give a crap, and I don't really...it's more a personal choice, especially since my weeping of late seems to come from some deep chasm, making me feel as though I won't be able to stop. So it's better that I'm keeping it to myself for now.

Still, it's a little baffling that it's been 3 months already...normally I'd be pleased that the summer's flying by like that, and I probably would be now, were it not for the fact that the true Florida summer weather seemed to have kicked in finally around August 1...this past week, the heat indices reached into the 100s. It's really been mild for Florida standards up until now this summer (well, to me anyway, and that's saying something, because I seriously loathe this state's weather), and I hope that doesn't mean we're in for a short autumn...autumn is usually a take-what-you-get notion in Florida anyway, but it's my favorite season so naturally I want more of it.

Knitting kimono and hat...naturally didn't get those suckers done in a weekend. Saturday I tidied and puttered, weeded my vast collection of aloe (seriously, KBers, who wants some?!), and then went to Mom's to do laundry, hang, and catch the Suns game with my mom. Really nice time with Mom...we both enjoy the people-watching at a venue like a Suns game, as much or more than the game itself, plus a rain delay lent a blessed coolness to what had been a rather sweaty event. Sunday I cased the local Farmer's Market again, which proved very disappointing, did a small shop for groceries, and relaxed the rest of the day. Luckily my boss is on paternity leave right now, so I've got some time to spare on the baby stuff. He's getting aloe too. >:)

Why was the Farmer's Market disappointing, you ask? Because it ain't real, not by a long shot. I went looking for farmers, and instead found dressed-down retailers, where the supposedly local produce is mixed in with California onions, and bananas, mangos, and pineapple that you know aren't grown in Florida (we're tropical, but not that tropical). It's infuriating...makes me wonder if they sprinkle dirt on the potatoes to make them look more authentic. I'm sure there's a couple of genuine farmers in the mix, but it was also in the 90s and I just didn't have the energy at the time to inquire. It got me thinking hard about a couple of things:
1. Expanding my search to the true 100-mile radius that people use as a barometer when searching for local foods. This would be a slow process, given the gas prices and our financial sitch, but the outcome would be worth it.
2. Performing an audit on the local farmer's markets...thinking up questions to ask them about their operation, where they're located, what other markets they frequent, etc. Kingsolver's book is excellent, but there's definitely a need for something from a lower-class point of view, someone like me who's going to be trying to grow food on an apartment porch and searching for local food sources in an area that's known for citrus and not much else.

I went shopping yesterday with a carefully rationed amount of money, and used my cell phone's calculator to note everything that went into my cart, so that I wouldn't embarass myself in the checkout line. It sparked something inside me...that combined with the inability to buy things I wanted to, because the good stuff costs more. I want to be able to buy the good stuff, the organics and fair trade products, and as much as it requires more money coming in, it also requires we make good and proper use of that money when we have it. Firehouse or Pizza Hut vs. a home-cooked meal is an excellent example; we've been lazy for far too long. I've planned meals the past couple of days...even if it's as simple as "the roast hasn't defrosted enough yet, let's do sandwiches," the difference it makes vs. us standing around going "I don't know, what do you want?" is marked. And if we want pizza, I want the damn ingredients on hand to make it from scratch...I think I'd enjoy veggies on my pizza if they were fresh and I knew where they came from. It's such a neat and simple idea, and one that must pay off in spades in maintaining a level of continuity when you have kids, the idea of having one night, like Friday (because it's a celebration of the weekend ahead), be a make-your-own pizza/burger/sub/whatever night. Why pay good money for something the consistency of corrugated cardboard when you could be treating yourself to homemade sauce, fresh veggies, and meats where you actually have a clue of the fat content?

So. Frigging. Inspired. Next step is reading The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan, and finding a copy of Plenty by Smith & MacKinnon, a BC couple who tried a similar experiment as Kingsolver's clan (a year of local eating). In the meantime, I just finished Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, so I'm going to start at the beginning and read it through again. Most of her husband's essays have links to various websites to learn more about how to positively impact the environment, and it's time for some of her daughter Camille's recipes to get trial runs.

Friday

Blissful, delicious Friday...

My boss is becoming a daddy today. I'm alternating between being delighted for him and insanely jealous. I know I'm not ready yet, that I/we still have some work to do...heck, my back alone is proof of that this week. Doesn't make the feelings any easier though...but at least I know what I'm knitting this weekend. Started the kimono last night in sherbet green LB Jiffy; thank goodness I came to my senses about doing a blanket for the kid too!

Begrudgingly admit the Celebrex is working...caught up on sleep last night, feeling better...

Random question...do all labors start in the middle of the night, or does it just seem like that?

This weekend...Saturday is laundry at the house, Suns game with Mom Saturday night, getting to see Hunter (and Cyril), then Sunday at home for some serious cleaning. Also Sunday I'm doing a ritual to both celebrate Lughnassadh a shade late, and commemorate Dad being gone 3 months.

Patience

Yeah, sure. Ain't exactly in the cards this week.

The day degenerated badly yesterday after post, as the prescribed amount of muscle relaxants hit my system and turned me into a chair of molasses. I ached all afternoon to go home and nap, and once home, I passed out for 3 hours. Was a nice catchup, but I slept like crap last night afterward, so there was no question what was supplementing my regimen this morning. And I called the doc and left a drug-seeking message on the nurses' voicemail. Not expecting miracles, as the lady isn't a big proponent of the good stuff, but I had to try...I don't want to be borrowing from Husby's stash when I truly run out.

It doesn't hurt when I walk, mainly when I'm sitting or bending, so I'm going to get back to walking ever-so-carefully. Even up and down our driveway (about 1/2 mile one way) would be better than nothing, and it's inclined, which is certainly hard to find otherwise here in Florida. Scenery might get boring, but it's better than breathing in exhaust - we live on an access road surrounded by main drags, so if I want a quiet, stress-free hike, I'd have to drive somewhere, and we just don't have the gas. The other option that I look forward to investigating is a nature preserve right near my work.

So other than my current miserable existence, what else is going on.....I'm so into Kingsolver's book, I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to eat the hamburger we currently have in the freezer with a clear conscience (never mind that it was purchased from an Army commissary, which brings up a host of other issues beyond fuel consumption and factory farming). Granted, she's got it easy with a net worth that allows for the purchase of only organic, fair trade, and local food and household items, but there's certainly things we could be doing, small things, to do our part as well. You've gotta start small with something like this; I mean, I get that I can basically buy twice as much food at Winn-Dixie for $100 vs. $100 spent at Native Sun. But the alterations need to start occurring in our lives, from the simple things like turning off the blasted TV when it's not really being watched, to recycling, to hitting the farmers' market for our vegetables and knowing what's in season. And research, research, research...I mean, we both love bananas, and if my potassium supplement is any indication, they're only doing my body good, but where the frick do you find fair-trade bananas in Jacksonville? Is it even possible to buy them in Florida without contributing to global warming and abysmal working conditions in some third-world country? Which leads to nutrition study, so that if they do need to be eliminated as a food source in the short term, we have something to back it up. I don't even need to hit the library for that; I have the ADA's big fat Nutrition manual right in my overpacked bookshelves. I've been having trouble finding meals this week, not just because I have no appetite because of my back, but because I'm craving vegetables, and we're cleaned out for the foreseeable future. This is a good thing, me wanting to find different recipes and ways to incorporate veggies back into our lives...well, into mine period, and back into his. Les grew up on things like butterbeans and rice as a side dish ::shudders::; it's time to get us both on a healthier course.

Of course, I'm always full of bright ideas when the good meds kick in, which is why it's so important to blog this stuff, so I can go back to it later. No gas or $ for KB this week, so I'll work on the hat at home tonight, maybe start the kimono too. Didn't get a blessed thing accomplished last night, thanks to my blasted back. Patience.

Mind over matter

Coffee NEEDS to start working its magic. I think the meds are making me sleepy. This sucks. The good news, I guess, is that it does feel as though the Celebrex is doing its job. It's not as good a job as the fun leftover pills I have from Husby, but that only makes sense...we're talking the difference between a COX-2 inhibitor NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory something) and a narcotic, so naturally the narcotic is going to erase the pain rather well, but then not last as long. But I'm trying to save those babies for special occasions, and my mobility has increased quite a bit on the regimen the doc gave me, so it's time to suck it up and quit whining.

Finished the booties, started the hat. Unfortunately, the Babies R Us card we snitched from his sister was tapped, had a whole $.60 on it, so I may have to content myself with just the hat, booties, and kimono for Brenton's little one. SO enjoying Kingsolver's book. Makes me want to hit the farmer's market, especially since we're probably right smack in squash and tomato season. Funds are dangerously low at present though...we'll pay rent first and then see.

This back thing really takes the wind out of my sails end of day, so I'm trying not to be hard on myself for not getting enough accomplished after work. It feels so good to get home in the evenings though. That combined with my impatience for TV lately oughta help get a little more done after work in the evenings in the coming months. Even when the new tube season starts up, I have a feeling there will be less stuff drawing my attention toward the idiot box, plus I'm thinking that 2 of my faves, House and Grey's Anatomy, won't hold nearly the allure of past seasons, not until we've put some more time between us and Dad. So good. I've got too much on my plate to be wasting it in front of the idiot box anyway. I oughta turn the damn thing off for a month and see if the electric bill shows a difference.

So tonight we'll transfer a couple of the listed items to a journal for easy reference, work on the hat, and think on easy areas of those lists that can be performed with a bum back.

10 Things

My apologies for yesterday's post...I was in a lot of pain.

Admittedly, this blog has been a necessary vent for the past almost-3(!) months, but I'm reaching a point where positive activity needs to start occurring again in my life. My head is chock-full of ideas about studying, organizing, moving and removing furniture, finances, cleaning, gardening, knitting...the list goes on...much of which requires physical capabilities I don't currently possess, naturally. But to keep the frustration level to a minimum, I'll go back to something I haven't done in forever and grew up doing: making lists. Itemizing and categorizing the things I wish to occur. I'll mostly keep these to myself or stick them on my SC Moving blog, but by listing things I want to occur, hopefully the frustration won't slop over onto here so much.

Which got me thinking about a nice idea that I'm thieving from our buddy ruthee, who got it from 10 Things. You don't have to be a shiny, happy person to appreciate the simplicity of recognizing beauty and gratitude in life (good thing or I'd be screwed ::wry grin::). I notice some things everyday, have done so ever since becoming a witch. But it's definitely important for me right now to take note of the noteworthy...sounds redundant, but it's not. I'm doing a lot better, functioning at work, productivity almost back to normal, sadness doesn't sneak up on me, but the trade-off appears to be that when the sadness does strike, it feels like I won't be able to stop crying. I'm sure this is a necessary step in grieving, but it kind of sucks. I know working on the grief books I have will help, but they've been pushed aside again in favor of knitting and Kingsolver, which are certainly their own brands of therapy too. Rationalizing to justify fiber time...yeah, knitters never do that :)

In no particular order...

1. The scent of the crape myrtle trees when I get out of my car at work.

I'm actually not a fan of crape myrtles...my first encounter with them was when we moved to NC. Gastonia was mad with them, but that year the gypsy moths infested big time, leaving tons of dead-topped trees with this disgusting webby nastiness in their armpits. But there's a row of them right where I park my car, a nice bit of business district beautification, and although they still irritate me, because I'm usually too lazy to park elsewhere when it rains and I end up with their fine, messy blossoms all over my hood, their scent strikes me when I get out of the car and makes me smile. It's like in April when you suddenly catch wind of a pretty scent and know that there's azaleas blooming somewhere nearby. And gosh knows first thing in the morning heading into the artificial atmosphere of computers and air-conditioning for 8 hours, it helps to have something to smile about.

2. Good medical benefits.

The ease of going to the doc when I want or need to, and paying a copay with a credit card that's specifically a medical account...my cup runneth over with gratitude for that. I may get pissed about how they increase the premiums and copays every year, but I can't knock it when I compare it to a) other plans, or b) no decent plans at all. I don't even have to fight for referrals. Meanwhile I watch a family member (on husby's side) with fibromyalgia, a medication dependency problem that the fibromyalgia has only exacerbated, and nothing but straight Medicaid at present for herself, her significant other, and their baby. I know how good I have it.

3. Chocolate.

'nuff said.

4. The fast gratification of knitting baby stuff.

Even after several years at the needles, the delight I get from finishing a project is hilarious. Had to bring the bootie out to the living room to show Husby, and it's sitting on my end table on display, telling me to hurry up and finish his mate, which should be done tonight, at which time they'll both be taunting me to get the matching hat done.....they don't exactly talk to me....it's more a mental thing....(yeah, melanie, mental's a good word...I hear y'all thinking!)

5. Farm blogs

Been living vicariously through them this week.

6. The Knitting Bitches

We don't meet as often as we'd like, but it's nice to know they're there :)

7. Yahoo Messenger - sneak-chatting with Lil Sis at work...keeps us both sane, I think.

8. Lil Sis

Ain't she a knockout? Not that I'm biased er nothin'...

9. Suns game with Mommie this Saturday!

10. Having a surplus of good meds for my blasted back.

Celebrex and homeopathic meds appear to be doing...very little unfortunately. Muscle relaxants appear to be helping, not nearly as uncomfortable as I was yesterday (as long as I don't sneeze again), but it's nice to have the good stuff available for when I decide to cave. Now if I could just go home to my wing chair and my knitting.....ah well, that's what this being thankful nonsense is for :)

Pity party

Why me?
If there's a lesson in this, I appreciate it...I'm certainly open to life lessons of late, but if the gods could just give it up now, and skip the 3-4 weeks of pain I'm about to go through, that'd be much appreciated. I just don't have time for this; my PTO is in the basement, which means I have to go to work, even if I feel like absolute shit.
I hurt my back, lower right quadrant, so badly that basic movement is compromised. Getting in and out of the car is teeth grinding, and I simply can't get comfortable sitting or lying down. Makes it real easy to work at my desk or catch up on sleep. That's sarcasm, folks. Can't lift my arms, especially on the right. Can't sit certain ways or the pain travels down my right leg. Went to my doc today, who gave up some Celebrex, which ain't doing dick, and an Rx for muscle relaxants, which I can't get until after work. I'm barely functioning, and I have no choice but to do just that, because I can't take any time off work.
Wah.

Sick of this blog being such a downer. I did start some baby stuff this past weekend. My boss's wife is due this month...I've done one bootie, started the other, and plan to also do at least a hat and kimono for his little girl. Also elbow deep in Kingsolver's new book, Animal Vegetable Miracle...quite inspiring and thought provoking, about eating locally and healthily. Can't wait to try some of those recipes!

Another lesson on taking life for granted...

And believe it or not, I'm not talking about that bridge in Minneapolis. Man, I hate when stuff like that happens though. Watch in horror, allow yourself to be temporarily overwhelmed by the randomness of life, the idea that you could make all these plans for your future - happy ones involving kids and grandkids and going back to school and owning a farm - and then an airplane engine could fall on your head in the middle of said plans. Shake it off, move on...

No, I'm talking about my fear of debate. I've never liked to debate or to watch debates...I know the concept is a free exchange of ideas, but it just seems like controlled fighting to me, and I saw enough fighting growing up to be completely turned off by it. Plus a debate was never a debate in our house; it was Dad's opinion, period. You had to be a learned, educated adult with solid facts and zero emotion behind your argument to get any kind of respect or attention from Dad, so regardless of the strength of my convictions, I just stopped bothering to engage him in discussions as I grew older, especially ones involving politics after I jumped to the other side. This was a guy who watched Fox News and enjoyed the gospel according to Bill O'Reilly, so I knew better than to talk with him about the tough stuff...no, it wasn't that I knew better, it was that I just didn't want to put forth the effort, because it was exhausting trying to talk with him about things when you knew your opinion stood a good chance of being beaten into the ground. That may sound unfair, but that's how it felt.

So I'm in the shower yesterday with random stuff ping-ponging around in my head (talk about random! the reason I started thinking politics in the first place was a scene from M*A*S*H* where Hawkeye and BJ are trying to get a rise out of Charles by telling him that his parents voted for FDR......4 times! I swear I shouldn't be allowed to operate heavy machinery......) and it dawned on me that now that Dad's gone, I'd love nothing more than to spend an afternoon with him, debating the merits of say, the campaign promises of Fred Dalton Thompson vs. Dennis Kucinich. And the ache hit and I allowed myself a cry. And another lesson was learned, about the preciousness of time and the value of communication, ANY communication, that involves people sharing ideas, opinions, things that open one person to another. We're such a lucky species, to be able to use our brains like that. And yet these are lessons that you can't learn for yourself, until you can see the Thestrals.

Dig the Harry Potter reference? I'm entrenched in Book 7 so all knitting's taking a backseat, because holy crap, what a ride so far! I'm a little more than halfway through and so impressed with how action-packed and well-written it is.

Lughnassadh

First harvest. Witnessing and honoring the turning of the wheel of the year. Nifty :)

Speaking of the wheel turning, Dad had an undetected enlarged heart due to myocardial fibrosis (heart walls thicken to the point of chambers not being able to properly sustain life). Helluva segue there, huh? My family's not taking it well. I'm taking it too well. Mom and Meara have passed from denial into anger; how could his doctors not have detected this? I totally see how the docs could have missed it; the heart wasn't necessarily growing larger, rather, the walls of the heart were growing thicker, using up interior space in the heart chambers, so to speak, so technically it may not have looked enlarged on a regular scan - it was just heavier. Internet research indicates that a delayed-enhancement MRI may have detected something like this, but he was only just starting to show symptoms of irregular heartbeat, so I doubt it would have helped. Sure, he may have had other symptoms that he wrote off due to his other health issues (the carotid artery blockage produced eye migraines, mini-strokes, and a host of other difficulties), but either way, I'm basically of the mindset that raising a stink isn't going to bring him back. I'm feeling very TML* about the whole thing; finally seeing what Dad meant when he told Cyril not to grieve too long once he was gone, because what would be the point. We can learn from his death, and possibly help others through our experience (meaning I'd love to do research on deaths attributed to myocardial fibrosis, and whether early detection could change anything/prolong life...maybe write a paper on it?), but suing people or trying to smear Baptist wouldn't be the most positive means of getting the message out. But I can also tell that I need to keep my too-rational thoughts to myself for now. People don't want to hear "couldn't be helped" when they're still searching for answers.

One thing I am curious about is if he'd always had this. The autopsy suggested evidence of a previous MI, which as far as we know he never had, but as I was writing this, I remembered 1982 and couldn't help wondering if that episode was his first heart attack. When I was in the car with him that day, he had a full-blown seizure...his body contorted as though possessed, he made an awful noise, his left arm seized, and his pupils went down to pinpoints. Luckily, they diagnosed aneurysm and rushed him off to surgery; but it was patch work, never open heart, so for all we know, the fibrosis had already started to form. And disorders such as bilateral cardiomyopathy (his resultant condition - the decreased size of both ventricles) and myocardial fibrosis have possible hereditary factors. I am SO losing this weight and getting myself an MRI!

*We refer to things in our family as being TML (Timothy Michael Lyons). Dad was a bit OCD, quite anal-retentive, and had very definitive opinions about things. Add a large ego and you have a personality with idiosyncracies that permeated the way we operated. He could be unnervingly self-righteous, but for the most part, if I'm referencing something as being TML, it's with wistfulness now, respect, and love.

So I'm still feeling decent (also a tad unnerving, but such a relief!)...thumbed through my new books last night and read some Harry Potter - SO action packed! Lower back is still strained, so I'm doing mainly stretching exercises this week. My boss's baby shower is this Friday, so I know I won't have anything done knitwise in time, so the pressure's off. Haven't even started his stuff...started the other baby's sweater, but it took a backseat to the Cascade bag last night, cuz I'm itching for a new purse (switched back to my Vera Bradley in the meantime, trying to get in an autumn mood). Plus when I washed the Katja top before giving it to my niece, I noticed that the tie straps felted nicely, so it got me intrigued about felting, which I'm planning to do with that bag. So much fiber, so little time!

I'm thinking of clearing off the back porch, both because it desperately needs it and because I'd love to do ritual out there. Hope the weather's clear tonight. Happy Lughnassadh, y'all!

I'm wide awake now.

There's this really delightful movie, circa 1998 or so, one of M. Night Shymalan's first works. Wide Awake tells the story of a 10-year-old boy who goes on a search for God while grieving the loss of his grandfather. It's On Demand right now, and I've watched it at least twice; it's speaking to me on some level...plus it's a really sweet flick.

I woke up Sunday morning with a sense of purpose. I knew I wanted to go check out Hitchcock Woods in downtown Aiken, and didn't see the point of trying to go back to sleep just so I could feel worse...the mattress I was on was lousy (my lower back still hasn't forgiven me), and I'd drunk enough wine the night before to kill a small horse. Had talked to Lil Bro the night before, and what I gleaned from the intense medical jargon of Dad's autopsy (still waiting to read it myself to see if I'm correct or not - Mom, as well as Dad's cardiologist are both in denial about the results at present) was that what set his catastrophic events in motion may have been a garden-variety MI. A heart attack. This may turn out not to be the case, but hearing this woke something inside of me. I'm not even sure what it is yet...it's definitely going to take some mental hashing out. But I went to those woods to walk and began to feel such strength, such clarity. Doesn't even make sense really...we'd always been told a stroke would take him; to have it be his supposedly healthy heart oughta bring nothing but more questions...and it does certainly (though certain parts of it also make sense, like they wouldn't have noticed all the symptoms because the pain that normally travels down one arm as well, would've been on the arm that hasn't been right since 1982, didn't give an accurate BP reading ever since his seizure back then)...that's why I asked Mom for a copy of the autopsy, because my time in the medical field gave me a really decent understanding of their terminology (and Mom and Lil Bro are getting an appointment for translative purposes with Dad's cardiologist, who's also going back to Pathology to make sure those results are accurate).

But maybe my clarity stems from an understanding that knowing the why doesn't help with the closure much at all....it certainly doesn't make him any less dead. Christ, could I be headed for acceptance already? Because in those woods, walking carefully on the soft dirt trail, stepping carefully to avoid the frequent road apples (I didn't see any horse folks, but it's obviously heavily populated by the Aiken horse crowd), I regained my peace and faith. As I was walking, I realized I hadn't grounded in months and suddenly, the earth's energy was flooding up through my legs and arms. It was overcast and muggy out, but almost cool, not more than 70 F. I was surrounded by tall trees, fern banks, and gorgeous groves of greenery. There's a canyon and a sand river...I barely scratched the surface of these woods, can't wait to go back and explore further, and it's a privately owned and funded area only a mile from downtown Aiken. I'd kick myself for not finding it sooner, were it not for how fantastic it's made me feel. I had a good cleansing cry and so totally recharged my batteries; my cup runneth over with how I'm feeling now.

Spent the rest of Sunday knitting, relaxing, and reading and writing in my grief journals. My resolve to lose weight and get healthy has taken on fresh life, because if any of us kids needs to be worried about potential heredity factors from Dad now, with that news, it's certainly me over the others. And that scares the living shit out of me, since I have every intention of living a helluva lot longer than 30 more years. So I joined the Heart Walk in Dad's memory, am eating healthier, and my exercise regimen begins today, in spite of my sore back. I'll take it easy, but I'm not going to lay out. I'll celebrate Lughnassadh tomorrow and the beginnings of my favorite season.

Heck with the Methodists

Of course I don't mean that literally...it's just I'm realizing that my impatience at my lack of inner peace is causing me to make rash decisions about faith. Going to a Christian church when you're really a Unitarian is an exercise in self-flagellation. Add to that the fact that it's in SC, a state so steeped in the Bible belt that they're basically moving backwards socially, and you've got a recipe for anything but inner peace.

So I found a city park with hiking trails that's a whole 8 minutes from the house. That's where I'll be Sunday morning while the others are sleeping in. I'll pack my raincoat, procure some bug spray, and go traipsing through the woods.

I'm really looking forward to getting out of town. We haven't been north since March, when we went on our last scouting trip for the move. We rambled around Columbia, bursting with the hope that accompanies that type of life change - a move to another city. Circumstances may have changed, but SC still holds a special place in my heart, and we're still planning to eventually move there. The air tastes better, lighter; his folks' house is surrounded by pine trees that are great for hugging and shade; and we'll get to see his family, hopefully diffuse a bit of the tension that they live with constantly. The household consists of Mom & Dad J, Grandma, Les's sis Kara, her significant other Allan, and their daughter Kylie. It's become a pretty tight fit; there's a lot of strong personalities under that roof. Kara and Allan are in their 30s, but lack the motivation to move out on their own; and Grandma, while someone I respect for her elder status, is a sharp-tongued pill at times. It'll be good to have us there to distract them for a bit, and I'm looking forward to playing with Kylie, who turned 1 this past week. Also looking forward to seeing Dad J, though I know I'm going to break down when I hug him, because it'll remind me so strongly of what I've lost.

Knitting this weekend will be all baby stuff...I'm finishing Kylie's top, and then I'll start a sweater for Cooper and some booties, maybe a hat and some washcloths for Elise.

Not nearly as bad off as I thought

Hello! I am Figaro. I have a white bib and belly, and 4 white socks. This picture is an illusion. I am not normally so well behaved. My favorite pastimes include rattling the vertical blinds to vex Daddy, jumping on my big brother Jordan, and tear-assing around the apartment. Mommy says I'm hell on 4 paws, whatever that means.

So I sat down at the new therapist's office (Melanie, not Figaro) (yet another therapist that I'm probably not comfortable enough with to indulge in a second appointment), and started talking. Didn't go back nearly as far in the past as I did with the last one, because I didn't want to get to T-minus 10 minutes to go and feel like I was just starting. So I talked and I wept, and I mentioned how concerned I was that I was delaying the grief or not dealing properly with it thanks to the lithium, and it dawned on me: SFW. I've been feeling guilty for having the medication that allows me to better deal with all that's happened (guilty that Mom, Cyril, or Meara don't have what I have), and the clouds parted as I allowed myself to realize that they a) could certainly have access to meds if they felt the need, and b) probably don't have lithium deficiencies. The way I'm feeling now, on my meds, is normal; it's Melanie's normal, so why beat myself up for what's right for me. If I had to guess whether I inherited the lithium deficiency from Mom or Dad, Dad would win that sucker in a landslide. Unfortunately I'll probably never know now; haven't a clue if it's something that's normally measured on an autopsy (that is, if Baptist EVER gives up the f*cking thing!). But the point is that I can't feel guilty for something that's a legitimate medical condition; it's out of my hands. I've treated it as such for years, so what makes it different just 'cuz I'm facing this mind-blowing grief now? Nothin', that's what.

Don't know what to do about the counseling...made a 2nd appointment, but I'll hunt some more. Got my grief book and journal from Amazon this past week, I'm starting exercising, getting a change of scene in SC this coming weekend, and I'm getting back to church, trying out the Unitarians and the Methodists both, I think, as I search for a happy medium to my faith to help combat the ache. The Katja top will get all my knitting attention until it's done, cuz i'm hoping to finish it for Kylie's birthday, give it to her when we're up there this weekend.

Monday...could be worse...

Woke up with a splitting, nauseous headache this morning, no clue why, so now that the meds have kicked in, I'd love to be anywhere but at work. When you feel so much better after feeling so lousy, the last place you want to be is stuck in a cube...you want to savor it. Ah well.

Semi-productive weekend...worked a pinch Saturday playing catchup with my hours. Moved furniture in the bedroom Friday night and discovered something I haven't seen in a long time: floor space...and I didn't even have to move one of the coffee tables to the closet. Did laundry Saturday night at Mom's house, which was nice, but sad. They have a new couch and coffee table, so the living room is infinitely more comfortable to hang out in now, but the place is still chock full of memories. I remarked to Lil Bro recently that the damn garage is a time capsule, and it definitely brought back the ache as I worked Saturday night...got some good cries in, which naturally has me wondering if it hurt so badly that night because I haven't been crying nearly as much since getting back on lithium. It's helping me immensely in my ability to function day to day, but am I trading coping with the grief for just plain coping, and will that actually prolong my pain/retard my ability to heal? Good questions for the doc tomorrow - new psych appt after work Tuesday. Still I've been a good girl, maintaining 2 a day on the lithium, so it was nice to see the grief break through that actually, even if it hurt like hell.

Yesterday, Sunday, we went to the flicks with Steve & Lynn; I work with Steve - we've hung out on occasion for years (cookouts, birthdays, etc.). We went to the new Harry Potter, which none of us were overly impressed with, unfortunately. The fact that they've managed to keep all the same actors in the key roles really helps, but this movie was the most uneven, poorly edited of them all so far. Complete lack of segues, really blunt feel. Then we went back to their house for dinner, which was nice, though they can barely socialize at present. I think they kept the invite open to us to maintain a feeling of normalcy, but their lives aren't normal right now. They have a little boy who's going on 3, a delightful handful who took to Les like a duck to water yesterday - it was beautiful. Usually I'm the one who hits it off with the small people, but for some reason, Lukas wasn't having me yesterday. Lynn's pregnant with their 2nd boy though, and it's been a very difficult pregnancy - she developed an absess below the baby that is pushing down on nerves, creating a great deal of pain as well as numbness in one leg, and she's on IV nutrition at night. So she's wiped out from that, and Steve's wiped out from picking up the slack. Still it was nice to socialize and get a visitor's eye view of parenthood again.

So, this week...a couple of things. Getting back on my big knitting projects...I've been neglecting the log cabin blanket and the random wrap. Instead, made myself a small pouch for a makeup kit and a sunglass case over the weekend, just cuz. Which reminds me of one funny thing from the Harry Potter movie, when the Weasley kids all opened their latest hideous knitted creations from their mother at Christmastime. Lord, keep me from being one of THOSE knitters. I also want to start 2 baby projects this week: something for Steve and Lynn's new guy, Cooper, and something for my team leader's impending new daughter. Easy stuff like booties and washcloths for the latter, maybe a first stab at a small person's sweater for Coop. Toughest thing on that will be the sizing; I prefer running large on baby clothes, but these folks are quite small in frame - Lukas is a 3 year old wearing 18 month clothes, so I'll actually pay attention to whatever pattern I choose and go for something less than 9 months in size, I think. Will continue to dig into that apartment and reorganize, unpack and repack boxes, etc. We'll bring the coffee table upstairs (it's still in the car from last week), and decide what to do with it. We took the first end table from Mom's and made it the new TV table; the shelves are handy for Les's PS2, and I look forward to getting the other end table/chest from Mom's because that'll allow me to unpack the VHS tapes and store them, which'll free up the boxes for the closet. Definitely need to make some lists of what I'd like to accomplish...I'll do that tonight, so that it won't be so daunting. I tend to wander the apartment looking at stuff and feeling overwhelmed, and that's not the most productive way to get your excrement together.

Random photo thoughts

Now granted, my dad liked posing for pictures about as much as he enjoyed dental work...but I can't help wondering if Mom goosed him right before that one on the right was taken. Would explain the high look on his face, and the self-satisfied look on hers...:)

Where's the lighthouse?

Answer: I got frickin' tired of it. Unfortunately, the selection of templates on Blogger could be better, but I made do. Naturally forgot to save my Links until after I'd saved a new template, so there's less of those because I had to input them manually. And I stole the idea for the What's Going On...section from my Celtic knitting goddess pal, ruthee; she does something similar on her site, and I figure it'll help me be more accountable for getting decent food on the table a couple of nights a week.

Busy weekend ahead...Harry Potter book, Harry Potter movie with friends, furniture moving, cleaning, organizing, laundry....hopefully at least a couple of those things will actually get done. I'm getting decent sleep on the lithium, not nearly as dragged out during the week, so hopefully I won't spend the weekend thinking I need to catch up. I can't access my work voicemail, so can't be sure that I ever received a callback from the shrink...I'll go to the psychologist next Tuesday, and see if she can refer me to anybody.

Blankwoman

My primary doc is a DO who operates a rather revolving-door family practice, which means it's easy to get an appointment usually, but you're crammed into a miniscule waiting area teeming with snot-nosed kids and rednecks (please excuse my class bias, but that's how it feels in there), and you're lucky to get your 15 minutes with the actual doc. So I'm not going to bother with another appointment just to hash out that I can't stand that I'm feeling so much better. But it is bringing home to me that I need a shrink, not a psychologist...I need someone who's skilled in the medicinal end of things as well as the emotional, and a psychologist just doesn't have enough experience. So I'll hang onto my appointment with the psychologist while I search for a psychiatrist.....

Because the damn lithium has me feeling pretty entirely blank. I'm not grieving at all; when I think of Dad, I feel.....very little. And that just ain't right. I was looking for a happy medium, something that would keep me from having panic attacks and hyperventilating every time I think of him, while allowing me to function better at work and such. Instead I'm feeling...nothing. My grief has been erased by a little beige pill, and I'm barely taking enough for it to be considered therapeutic. I dropped back to one a day this week, and if that doesn't work, I may go to every other day. I'm NOT going to go off of it without talking to somebody with an MD after their name, but as I am right now, I'm not dealing with much of anything, and that can only serve to bite me in the ass later.

I've started a tote bag with the brown Cascade in 2 strands, based on the Interweave Musical Stripes pattern (downloadable from Knitting Daily)...when I get bored with that yarn, I'll add either the slate blue or rose pink of that wonderfully rough, peace-fleece-esque wool that Dana gifted me...both those yarn types should make for a neat felting project, just won't double the blue or pink - it's thick enough on its own.

!@#$%^&*(+?!

I don't think I've ever been so unsettled to be feeling better.

Last week, I visited my doc and went back on lithium. Since my body basically doesn't produce the stuff on its own, the effect is fairly instantaneous when it's introduced back to my system. My mood lifts, I sleep better, my appetite is ravenous...that part's not cool at all, not when I've just started to lose a bit. Husby offered the oh-so-helpful notion of recognizing when I feel that way and then just eating less. If he wasn't such a sweetie, I'd have beaten the crap out of him for that latent male response.

But it dawned on me Sunday that my anger had dissipated, and that I was crying less, which begs the question, am I dealing with my grief properly? I shed a few on Saturday, but had to make myself on Sunday—watched the movie "Wide Awake" again just to see if I could fetch up my grief feelings (VERY sweet movie, about 10 years old, one of M. Night Shymalan's first...about a 5th grader's search for God following his grandfather's death). And that's when I realized I couldn't find my anger, which I hadn't even realized was a significant issue, a natural progression of my grief, that feeling that I've been wronged somehow to be enduring this loss. Now granted, I was getting pretty tired of all the crying and aching. But that worries me, that knowledge that if I let myself, I'll start blithely going along again like life is normal. Sure, that needs to happen eventually, but not yet, not to that extent anyway. I've never been down on myself normally for doing that, because once I found out about the lithium deficiency, it was easier to peg my issues as biological rather than emotional...but I don't want to do that now, because we obviously have a serious emotional issue at the forefront that shouldn't be buried.

So, other than me not being able to take happiness at face value, it was a good weekend...spent Saturday on the westside, got to see Mom, Lil Bro, and Hunter, and we treated them to Les's teriyaki chicken, and my cheddar corn spoonbread and apple butter/pumpkin pie—YUM! Hunter's such a beauty, behaves quite well in stores thanks to his meds, and he's obviously good therapy for my mom. Six years old and he comes up to my chest! I'm 5'8"...the kid's frickin' huge!

Been slacking on my health studies...I'll create my notebook this week for the AHA Choose to Move info that I'm pulling off the web, as well as any other pertinent health and fitness stuff. Lil Bro has free weights I can use, which I'll hopefully get from him sometime this week in between procuring furniture from them and shoving Husby into one of about 4 job fairs that are being held this week. Thinking of ripping out some more projects; spent some time on log cabin yesterday and I'll put more time into the random wrap this week, because I'm looking forward to getting that one off the needles and wrapping it around me while I watch TV, knit, read...

Ah poo!

No SC this weekend, they had to postpone the baptism. I find it hilarious just how cliquish and cult-like the average Christian church gets...(which further punctuates just how well Kevin Smith nailed the problems of manmade religions in the movie "Dogma")...when you ask to baptize your child with them, if you're not yet a member of the church, you better have the checkbook handy. You'd think they'd jump at the chance to grab another critter into the flock, but no...in spite of the contributions of past family members (this is Husby's grandmother's church), they refused. These are Methodists; aren't they supposed to be more open than say Catholics or Baptists? Well, it is SC, so not sure why I'm surprised...it's one of the things that concerns me about moving up there, the idea that the majority of people you'll run into are likely to be more vocal about the fact that you're going to hell for your beliefs. That espousing my ideals could lead to un-Christian-like behavior from the Christians...then again, we parked our car away from the church at Cyril's baptism so that people wouldn't be put off by our bumper stickers, so it stands to reason that anywhere in this Christian majority, you're going to run into issues. Anyway, it's just as well SC got postponed...this way I'll be able to take at least a whole day off around the weekend in question by then (still recooping my PTO - paid time off). And this way I'll get at least one thing knitted for the kid before we go up...I started Katja last night, and can tell it'll knit up fast.

Hopefully a bit of an organizing weekend...we're cooking dinner for Mom and Cyril on Saturday, looks like, and might be inheriting some furniture in the bargain, which will mean disposing of some crap in our house to make room and moving some stuff around. Hunter's over this weekend too, which is always nice. Thankfully his condition has never allowed him to ask outright yet where Grand-Sir is, though he's recently been improving quite a bit on fetching up complete sentences without prompting, so time will tell.

2 Months

That's probably the most shocking thing about all this...the fact that life goes on, even though someone ripped the spinal column out of our family. We go to work, pay bills, make plans, even start to forget a little...not about him, of course, but that it's happened; it doesn't remind you every 5 minutes, more like every 10...and that's almost harder because then there's the inevitable "my gosh, I haven't thought about X for Y minutes/hours...what the hell does that mean?" And you hash it out in your head and try not to feel guilty for letting life do that, and wonder if it's you coping or burying, and what that'll do to you in the long run...there's some vicious cycling to this train of thought. But you're usually saved by some random thing that results in a complete meltdown and the guilt abates. Was flipping around last night and came across "It's My Party" on the Logo channel. I love this flick; the plot is sad, but the gallows humor is hilarious. But the main character dies peacefully at the end, and it brought to mind how Dad may have taken the decision from us, but it wasn't peaceful; it was 36 hours of fear and pain masked by morphine, and he died with tubes shoved in every conceivable orifice. I know I can't think that way; besides, the morphine had him basically comatose at the end. Still, it made me ache, and I was a mess the rest of the evening.

So today will be a quiet day, a thoughtful one...can't do KB tonight because I can't spare the gas and have no dough for coffee, so I'll putter and pack, because we're going to SC tomorrow night after work. Our niece Kylie is getting baptized on Sunday. I'm thinking of wearing at least the top of my funeral outfit; it's so bright and pretty, and it'd be nice to wear it for something happy. I look forward to hugs from Husby's fam, holding Kylie, walking around their neighborhood, and enjoying a sit in their side yard where they have a respite of hardwood outdoor furniture amidst the pine trees...I like to knit out there, but we'll see how oppressive the heat is. Hate going up to the baptism empty handed though...is it completely unrealistic for me to try and knit a baby sweater in 60 hours?

Thought that counts

Making myself actually read Kathy is keeping me from working out! The most I did last night was carry the laundry up and down the stairs, and conserve gas by walking to the laundry room when I switched stuff from washer to dryer. A short jaunt, but still pleased with myself. But in my defense, I REALLY don't want to screw myself this time. I was thinking of copying the training log pages out of the book so that I don't screw up the originals, but that got me thinking that I'm already setting myself up for failure because I've stopped midway on stuff like this in the past and then I'm ticked that I don't have clean original copies to start over on.....so by thinking that I need copies, I'm already thinking that I won't make it through the 12 weeks without slip-ups? But let's face it; a small part of me is still a Virgo and certainly my father's daughter, so having the book act as a template and making copies for the actual working out is organizationally prudent...a little anal, maybe, but prudent...so I just need to change my thinking, because she emphasizes how the plan can be adapted, modified for continuation after the first 12 weeks, so if I'm more comfortable making copies of the training logs than writing directly in the book, then that's a positive move toward my program, right? Yeah, that's it! This regular exercising thing is going to be just as mental as it is physical, so figuring this out now rather than 2 weeks in, has gotta help, right? Think I'm almost convinced...it's tough starting a daily program after 37 years of doing nothing of the sort...requires a discipline and love of yourself that you didn't know existed up until then. Getting the good news about my BP at the docs was a relief, but there's no way I'll take it as an excuse to slack off or be complacent about my health. So it's really ok that I'm taking my time getting to know this program, because it'll mean less confusion once I've started, which'll make me more comfortable. Sounds like I'm trying hard to convince myself of this, huh? Actually it's just me thinking out loud. It dawned on me that one of the reasons I fail so easily at exercise is because I don't give it the attention, before as well as during, that it deserves. We're talking about moving—physically, intellectually, emotionally—toward a healthier lifestyle, toward a way of living that'll be beneficial for the rest of my life. Of course it requires study and attention to detail, and careful planning. It's the key to why diets don't work, because people are only looking to change until the scale hits that magic number, and then they think they'll just automatically be good from there on, when in fact it gives them license for things to "go back to normal." I can't, no, won't let that happen. I want to chase after my kids without getting winded. I want to live to be 102.

So I took stock of my workout equipment and read last night, and thought about rearranging the furniture in the bedroom so that I have a space. I know I'd be more comfortable working out in the bedroom, and thankfully, they're still using the downstairs apartment as a model, so I don't have to worry about bothering neighbors for now. Besides, it's not like I'll be doing aerobics much; I'll keep my main cardio work outside or at the complex treadmill, unless I decide to join the Y. I hate giving money to a gym, but if it has equipment that I could use, I may investigate the option, because it's RIGHT NEXT DOOR to my office, so the convenience factor is obvious. Hard to think about something like that when we usually can't pay our way out of a paper bag though, so for now, I'm assessing what I have so I can make do. Might ask Lil Bro if he has any cast-off workout equipment, and luckily dumbbells are cheap. Point is I can start with what I have; it doesn't require any serious spending, though I'll be glad when my gift card is back up to its balance so I can indulge myself a bit.

This whole entry oughta go in my MJ Health & Happiness blog...ah well. But I'm getting excited about this as I write about it! That's gotta be a good sign. I woke up groggy as hell this morning after stress dreams, but just thinking about getting healthier is getting me jazzed. Tonight I'll move the furniture and finishing reading up to the training logs.

Man, I feel good!

What a difference a little good news makes! What I weighed is barely worth celebrating, but it's been so long since I've weighed that fully clothed on the doc's blasted scale, that I practically floated back to work. Set aside the knitting and spent the evening giving one of my Kathy Smith books a hard skim; going to do more of the same tonight to make sure I understand stuff and don't overdo it my first time out, work out on the Bean tonight, and start Kathy tomorrow. We're out of money for this week, so that means no junk food anyway, and I'm back in the habit of trying to drink close to 2L of water at work. Going back on the lithium, so that oughta be status quo anyway.

I have an appointment in 2 weeks with a psychologist who takes credit cards, and we have an SC trip coming up either this weekend or next, so the trip out of town oughta do some good too, though I know I'm going to melt down when I hug Dad J. Dad L. will be gone 2 months on Thursday. Unreal.

So laundry, reading, and exercise tonight...hell, I'll get enough of a workout just going up and down the damn stairs with the laundry, so I think I'll mainly goof around on the Bean tonight, acclimate myself with the different exercises, positions that are currently possible with this bod...looking at the pictures in the manual is one thing, performing them with a spare tire for a waist is another. Reminds me of when Yoga Journal did an article on yoga positions for big women; there aren't nearly enough of those types of instructions out there. All the commercials for this type of exercise equipment (the stuff they advertise for on TV) showcase beautiful people still; they need to have separate vids for us fatties who are just starting out, so that we don't hurt ourselves or cause damage to nearby furniture, animals, etc. ::wry grin::

Could it be? A decent Monday?

Went to my primary doc today for med assessment. I've lost 10 pounds and my BP is 110/70. Hot damn and yay, me!!!

Yes, folks, she figured out her digi cam!

Yeah, ok, so I have some practice to do still...

The first one: Dad's urn (cherry or rosewood? can't remember which...) backed by Mom and Dad's wedding photo. The seal is for the Department of the Army; he served from 1953 to 1956. The rest:

Timothy Michael Lyons
KT • Papa • Sir • Grand-Sir
June 10, 1939 – May 12, 2007

"Until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of his hand."

Irish Blessing

KT stands for King Timothy; I was the Long Mountain Princess, the name of the street we lived on in New Milford, CT. When Lil Sis came along, she became the Above All Princess after the street we lived on in Warren, CT. Grand-Sir is how Hunter knew Dad; we brought it up as a joke right after he was born and it stuck.

The green Model T actually runs! It's a 1927, I believe, belongs to my Uncle Dan and he still drives it in local parades and the like. He fired that sucker up after the funeral and we all took rides to the cemetery and around town in it; quite a blast when you're drunk!

The headstone is the family plot, conveniently situated on the first corner on the right as you come into St. Johns Cemetery in Norwalk. Meara couldn't get over all the headstones; I had to remind her that those suckers would sink right into the aquifer in Florida, which is one reason you rarely see them that prolific in the South. They'll put a nameplate for him on the main stone, as we're running out of room for separate markers around it.

I know Mom's bummed that he's up there, but I can't help thinking that that's where he belongs, right near his brother and dad, in the neighborhoods where he grew up. The three of them can ramble around the area fixing old cars and doing yard work. I miss the area already...it was a great visit, and I hope I can scrape up the dough to go back up there when Nanie passes.

Kinda dishy, huh? :)

Can't believe it's taken me this long to put this up!!

If you go to the website http://www.mem.com and look to the left side of the page, you'll see fields for last name and a drop-down menu of choices. Type in Lyons for the last name, and Everlasting Memorial for the drop-down. There are 5 pages of Lyons' on the site; he's on the top of the 5th page. It shows his obit, plus a bunch of photos arranged in gallery or movie form. We get to add/replace photos down the road.

I'm thinking this pic was from his 2nd senior year of high school, but I'm not positive...I'm going to add some more pics later this weekend from the trip to CT; his urn and the family plot were really pretty!

Love you Papa!

Categorizing

In the beginning, say, oh, the month of May, there was a definitive and noteworthy distinction between what I term my "regular" depression and my grief. I could tell that the overwhelming emotions I was feeling were most definitely from the grief and not exactly a byproduct of my past issues. I consider my time in Fort Myers to be the worst of my depression; I was on medication that did more harm than good, and the side effects literally had me wondering if I needed to check myself in someplace with soft walls and canvas jackets. So it's easy to compare bad times to that and think I'm not that bad off.

Now it's July; it's been almost 2 months. Already. Things will never be as bad again as they were in Fort Myers, but I think we can safely say that the distinction between my depression and my grief has left the building. They've melded into this emotional blob, and the result is this shell person who's sleepwalking through life at the moment. My memories of Dad inexplicably tend to immediately shift to the last moments, coming upon him and realizing he's gone, that his soul has left the room. It's a palpable, vacuum-like feeling that causes my soul to start shrieking. I did some screaming last night to try to eleviate this feeling. It wasn't enough. I gotta find a better way to release...my vocal chords are never gonna forgive me.

So thanks to the observances of a friend, I was easily convinced to take a more active approach to my recuperation. I made an appointment with my primary doc to talk meds. I'm calling a psychiatrist back on Monday to get her earliest possible appointment, and I'm keeping my appointment with the Master's level clinician in the meantime. I see that I'm barely pulling off coping at the moment. As soon as I fix the Amazon screwup that occurred yesterday, I'll be repurchasing the grief book and journal that I want. I'm going to try to write in the green journal every night, the one I bought so I could talk to Dad. Avoidance (to give yourself time) as a healing tactic only does so much before it becomes more detrimental than therapeutic. I realize there are parts of this that can't be forced, that time will heal to a certain extent, but it's obvious I need to grab my bootstraps a bit in order for my sanity to punch through this grief better.

I hope Dad's not disappointed in us. We're all still so reeling from his absence. The man was the central nervous system of the family, and you just can't have an ego and personality like his evaporate and not have it leave this gaping chasm. I've said before the man had self-esteem issues, so if he were still around, he wouldn't understand the how and why of our grief. I guess I need to stop thinking about how it's affecting him and focus on me. Was talking to the counselor Tuesday and she remarked how she was hearing me talk of how others were coping, but not about how I was. There's a message in that, that demands further exploration on my part.

Dana, bless her soft fuzzy heart, gifted me a bunch of yarn last night (2 skeins of Noro, some Peace Fleece wannabes, plus some soft wools), which I look forward to playing with this weekend. Was brainstorming last night when I got back from KB about how to use the PF wannabes and found a nice light pattern for a scarf that I decided to try the Opal on, so I frogged the Jaywalkers for now. I'm just not in the mood for socks right now, don't have the patience for dpns. I'm thinking of a deliciously long scarf somehow combining the two PFs, because they're in pretty complementary colors, a rose and a slate blue...and I'm adding some Noro to the log cabin blanket. NICE! It is pretty warm to be working with thick & quick (the blue wrap), so I think I'll pull out the random wrap for some quality time this weekend too.

Still blank

I give Mom and Lil Bro kudos for not going completely 'round the bend from living in that house. Never mind that the furniture ain't comfortable; the place is one big memory bank. I can't imagine being more in pain than I already am, but I'm pretty sure that living in that house would produce that feeling. Lil Bro combats it by working out/exercising for now, and it seems to be helping...he admits that to not do physical activities would put him in a corner in the fetal position at least emotionally. I'm not sure how Mom's coping...still a tough read. She admits to breakdowns like we all have, but with people, even family, there's this strength for the most part that pervades her personality, that's so apparent it makes me worry that she's surpressing. More likely she's going through the motions like we all are, and it's harder for me to distinguish because I'm in such a fog of my own as well.

Problem is, and she's admitted to this as I have, that reading about how to cope with grief is difficult because it forces you to sit down and absorb it, get to know it, curl up and have conversations with it, and that's just physically painful. I guess it's normal; I mean, in the first month when it's still so very fresh, you're already thinking about it 24/7 so to purposefully try and read about it would probably send your psyche right over the edge. I read a little in the early days to convince myself that I was going to survive with this big chunk of my heart missing, and to reassure myself that everything that was occurring in my head was normal. Can't deal with past depression like I have and not be concerned with how this life-changing event would affect...everything. Then I ignored the books for about 6 weeks, and now I'm slowly opening to the idea of exploring them again, maybe doing a little journaling. Gotta do something, as I can already tell that counseling won't do as much as I'd like...after the session the other day, it produced a long-forgotten memory of driving to my sessions in Fort Myers, and going over in my head what I wanted to cover beforehand, because those damn 50 minutes are so precious and short. It's just not enough time to produce decent results on its own...probably why so many people medicate now. The way I voiced it to Lil Sis is that it may help steer us in the proper directions, but the emotional/intellectual heavy lifting will be up to us.

Had 4 beers yesterday, so my body's one big joint creak today...dumbass...Suns game was fun though! I actually only pulled out the knitting at the very beginning...the rest of the time I was able to enjoy people/vendor watching and the game itself...we won 3-2 and it went by faster than baseball I've been to in the past. Fireworks were quite neat afterward, and the rain only sprayed us right before the first pitch, which was hilarious because most folks scattered for the upper levels, but we stayed put and put ponchos on, so our seats stayed dry while others had soggy pants issues afterward :) Then yesterday we went over to Mom's, Lil Bro and Husby cooked kabobs out on the grill (yum!), there was lowfat berry cheesecake afterward, and it was nice just hanging out with Mom and Lil Bro. I was exhausted on the drive home, but we got back early enough for a light 2nd wind/wind-down that left me refreshed before bed.

Projects this week are the log cabin and the blue wrap...random wrap will be revisited this weekend, and I need a 3rd skein for the blue wrap, I can already tell. My QC team all chipped in and got me 2 gift cards, because they could tell I've been having a hard time coping, and the one that works like a Visa debit is burning a hole in my pocket...definitely looking for a particular grief book and workbook with that sucker, as well as some stash enhancement (yarn for you laypeople).

Surviving

Counseling is a crap shoot. In this age of HMOs, PPOs, and Web-search everything, looking for a mental health counselor is quite simple. In the case of my insurance, it has its own site entirely dedicated to mental health...punch in the criteria you're looking for in a head-shrinker, press Submit, and viola! Looking for a psychiatrist as opposed to a social worker? Click! Feel more comfortable with a black male, or a white female? Click! But you're still spinning the roulette wheel as to how you'll feel once you've met the person, whether you'll actually be comfortable enough to open up with them and get any work of substance done.

This wasn't my first time on the couch; I started counseling at 19 in college and tried it on and off til age 27. Then my meds put me on a reasonably even keel, and I've spent the last 10 years feeling, dare I say, normal. So it wasn't so much trepidation as skepticism that tagged along as I went to my first visit with X. Keeping in mind that it's impossible to feel satisfied after the first meeting with a new counselor, because you're forced to nutshell your life into a 50-minute segment so that they have a clue about your issues . . . I was finally getting down to the details of Dad's death with 8 frickin' minutes left in the session. So my initial feeling about it is...blank. She'll be fine, nice lady, mid-50s, country club type without seeming airbrushed (which is a relief, lemme tellya...I try not to judge books by their covers, but those women who look like they just stepped off a golf course drive me nuts)...but I can tell that time and study will be quite the healers in the coming months, maybe more so than her skills...won't sell her short yet, it's not her...it's just this grief thing really is a growth experience that can't be pigeonholed or categorized too stringently. Lil Sis made a comment on her Facebook about how she's ready for things to seem normal again.....I hope she means a new version of normal, because I don't see back to normal in the cards at all. We're all going to change from this, are changing...there's still this abyss in my soul where my dad used to be, and getting that abyss to heal ain't gonna happen overnight, that's for sure. And when it does, it'll be an entirely new section of my soul, from chrysalis to butterfly, as it were. I'm being a little close-minded about the counseling, I know...I'm going to dig into those grief books from the library in the meantime, and I have another appointment scheduled for next week. We'll see...my brain may be blank, but that existential ache in my belly's pretty bad today.

One thing I'm tired of...being tired. I catch up on the weekends, but I'm lucky to get 5 or 6 hours a night during the week, because my brain won't turn off, and work is just exhausting. Which is quite frustrating because all I do is sit on my ass in front of a computer all day, I'm a true cubicle mole, but then I get home and my brain's oatmeal, so that even knitting takes an act of will at times. I'm going through the motions at work, and I don't even realize I'm holding something in, it's entirely rote or robotic or something, doesn't feel like I'm holding anything in, until I'm driving home and can't catch my breath because a memory pokes its way out...I can tell I'm due for some more therapeutic screaming.

So, Suns game tonight if we're not rained out (fireworks and free ice cream! gonna rain all day tho', so trying not to get my hopes up), and family time tomorrow. Gotta renew the library books Thursday, so I'll take a look at them in the next day or two and decide which ones are even worth keeping.

Surprisingly ok mood

For a Monday, that is...hell, a couple of days last week were real butt-draggers. But I slept the clock around Saturday night, and spent Sunday doing a whole lot of relaxing. I could just tell that I didn't have it in me to clean much, so I picked up my knitting and tucked in. Later in the evening, gave myself a foot bath and repainted the toes. And best of all, can't begrudge myself the slacking because it was very necessary.

Frogged 2 more projects, and planning to pick up mr. sock's mate tonight to get myself in the mood so I have something to bring to the baseball game tomorrow night ::grin:: It's either that or watch us get spanked by Mobile. We're going with Mom and hopefully, Cyril will join us after he works out. May have to bring more than one project, now that I think about it, to distract me from my desire for a beer. I'm definitely not touching alcohol in the foreseeable future. I'm giving my body a month on the potassium; then I'll call my doc to get my blood work done and get a referral for a cardiologist so I can get additional prophylactic tests done. No sense ignoring the possibilities just because I had a CAT scan done 2 years ago; I mean, heck that was 10 pounds ago and my BP was normal back then. I'm back to eating healthier, which sucks...but it really doesn't when the alternative is feeling as crappy as I've been feeling these last 2 weeks.