(not suitable for an embroidery sampler)
1 Pair of shoes that fell apart, plus
2 belts that did as well.
3 Pairs of sad slacks with stains.
4 Part-time jobs I’ve worked this year, for
5 people whom I’m supporting.
6 Pairs of raggedy undies and
7 pairs of holey socks I tossed in the trash.
8 Hundred is a great credit score,
9 hundred is a mortgage payment,
10 days since I’ve applied for a mortgage in just my name, and
11 months I’ve paid the mortgage on my own.
12 Kitchen cabinets & drawers that are falling apart, plus
13 year old stained carpeting and gouged vinyl need replacing.
14 Days after applying, the letter will follow the phone call that said Grandma doesn’t make enough money to get her mortgage.
I’ve been having intermittent bouts of vertigo (some severe), along with worsening tinnitus and resulting difficulty understanding what people are saying. My GP said I got poor results on the tympanogram, and is sending me to an ENT, whom I see next week. I’m no longer driving on the highway, and take extra care if I’m carrying my grandson.
Meanwhile, someone at school told the principal that I was “doing the wall thing”, meaning touching the wall to steady myself as I passed down a hallway. This resulted in being called up for a Official Meeting. By the time I left, I was feeling queasy and light-headed for entirely different reasons:
- Being a couple hours late to phone in my absences due to migraine and due to a Emergency Room visit for vertigo, had previously earned me a stern warning for procedural lapses.
- Going to or staying at work if feeling dizzy is prohibited because an educator with vertigo is a liability.
- Leaving work 30 minutes early for a doctor’s appointment must be taken as sick time.
- No “flex time” is allowed for appointments (i.e. leaving a bit early and making up that time by staying later another day).
- Thirty minutes, half a day or a whole day all count equally as an incident of using a sick day.
- Taking 19 sick-day events by October due to viruses, migraines, vertigo or doctor appointments is excessive, and any further such absences can result in termination of employment.
- Which specific number is unmentioned, but up to the Powers That Be in the Human Resources department.
- Any employee who is feverish with a virus must stay home.
Alas, this is all legal, and there seems to be a large limbo of being disabled by irregularly re-occuring conditions without actually being Disabled enough for some kind of accommodation.
Even if I somehow negotiated with H.R., the interpersonal climate with the school admin is too prickly to stay. This is a shame, because I have a great relationship with my classroom staff/faculty.
I’m looking for a different job, hopefully something full-time that also pays well enough so I can have just ONE job in my life. But everything I’ve seen pays fast-food wages, or else is so technically specific that my skills profile is a mis-match.
The free-floating anxiety is just HELL.
“You sound sick,” stated my daughter’s fiancé, M.
“I can’t be sick,” I mumbled in protest, and honked into a tissue.
“Redunculus; you’re sniffling.”
“I can’t be sick; it was Mr W’s day to be sick,” I explained. “He got first dibs on being out sick today … If all the classroom staff members who were sick stayed home, there wouldn’t be anyone left!”
I’m sure the students wouldn’t have minded having some of their classes cancelled. But no, we slogged through the day, hour after dreary, mind-numbing, O-PLZ-STFU hour. It was, I decided, a veritable hotbed of apathy. The lead teacher was battling a sinus infection, and I was suffering from what felt like temporal phase-shifts. And my aches ached. My ears were ringing and making sharp pains and I was having dizzy spots and nausea. I was cold and then would have a sneezing fit and then be hot, and would have some odd spastic tic and then be cold again. They cannot invent a vaccine for this shit any day too soon.
It’s worse when you’re feeling crappy and working 60 hours a week. But it seems like every few days I discover yet another person who’s working multiple jobs, the latest being a cashier with two jobs and Lupus. (Maybe what the economy really needs is for everyone to take a week off just to get some rest already. All in favor say, “Aye!”)
And then there’s the strange stress nightmares I get before a semester starts, going through an interminable dream about teaching 3rd grade but starting the same day the students do, and having an unworkable U-shaped classroom without a chalkboard or whiteboard, and the women’s bathroom stalls all cost 75 cents in quarters to use, and …
If you, too, are ready for a diversion, our favorite engineers (previous post) have a new video up on Advanced Cat Yodeling. M just about ROTFL, as he has been Yodeling with his cats for a long time, and favors the Machine Gun Kiss™ approach.
For the first time in months and months — far longer than it should have been, but there we are with the insane busyness of life — a friend and I got together at her house for dinner.
“You look like you’re finally relaxing,” she said after I’d been there a little while, and we decided to not wait in conversational limbo for the third person (who never did show). “You were so stiff when you came in,” and she made reference by some expression (that now escapes memory) of how I was indicating being relaxed by behaving more normally.
Not “normally” in the er, Normal (neurotypical) sense, but me-normal, where I felt comfortable enough to sit and rock slightly, to not worry about making eye contact, to get a bit flappy at funny events or when agitated, to shed the pent-up motor tics. To just be me. To “let my hair down” and to set aside unnecessarily restrictive social norms. To eat my chicken and rice with a fork, and the still-crisp cooked green beans neatly with my fingers (as one does with fries or asparagus), because her table was Nicely Set for our aesthetic enjoyment and yet we weren’t standing on formality.
We talked about typical stuff, like the foibles of spouses, the concerns for college-age kids, the drudgery of eternal home repairs, the quirks of cats, of temperamental computers and the thrills of new mobile phones, of career changes, and the vicissitudes of economic times.
We also talked about atypical stuff, like the difficulties of college education and employment when dealing with various educational/neurological disabilities, of managing arthritis pain and joint issues, of the wonders of TMJ bite blocks, of dealing with the profound cluelessness of the general public for the extreme pain of migraines and how hospital Emergency (A&E) is a horrid place to physically be when in the throes of gut-wrenching-head-splitting pain and the snarkiness of some medics therein.
Crip chicks like we don’t diss on our disabilities, we diss from our disabilities. It’s not poor-pitiful-me whining but the healthy pitch-a-bitch whining from someone who understands, even when our respective glitches are not all issues shared in common.
I need more social life, but there’s so much of ordinary socialising that I find enervating.
I’m not antisocial; the interest in socialising is not a binary form, where one either does it or doesn’t do it. But over the years I have learned what I actually enjoy (as opposed to what one is “supposed to” enjoy). My intro/extroversion levels vary wildly because some kinds of social interaction are nothing but draining, while others leave me (if not physically) at least spiritually recharged.
I’m not fond of socialising by large quantities of people all chattering with each other in the same room, where the conversations get all blenderized from my Auditory Processing Disorder, to where I end up trying to tease apart sequential fragments of half a dozen unrelated conversations, fruitlessly trying to follow just one voice or two, and reasoning out from fractured context what some of the mis-heard words could possibly be.
I’m not fond of socialising where the content gets watered down to less-consequential subjects of chit-chat, by dint of less privacy and some unwritten code of how long one is “supposed” to entertain time with another guest before moving on, and by the other unwritten rules of conversational quid pro quo, where my monologuing to fully deliver a story complete with back-explanations and thesis statements delivered at the end is discouraged in favor of witty repartee.
I like the time to mutually share and analyse our respective news, and the real, content-laden answers to our mutual questions of, “How are you?” The real “How are you?” question, not the fluff of “How-are-you?” or “How-was-your-day?” that is the social minefield trying to distinguish between polite interested query of acquaintances and polite disinterested query of associates (that latter social coin that is all form and no content), or the mental quagmire of trying to answer “How-was-your-day?” when the question is so vague and our answers are so experientially linear and tangential instead of whatever the hell others were expecting.
I was comfortable — we both were comfortable — because together we had created a social environment that enabled our mutual comfort. It was an agreement that had been developed by long familiarity and by various conscious decisions over decades, to create a friendship that fulfilled our individual needs over the culturally-proscribed forms. True friendship enables positive interactions, and supports needs and affirms and enriches our lives.
Here’s a toast to real friendships!
That is, de-pile-ing*.
* Not to be confused with depilling, which is trimming off those annoying “pills” that form on knitted garments. Presumably those wee balls of fuzz form due to the blasted orneryness of the universe, especially with regards to the cosmos’ dreaded knack for providing supplemental stress to anyone with OCD tendencies.
Depiling means to systematically remove piles of clutter. On my desk, that means not just the usual bills, statements and paperwork, but also:
- documents to be scanned,
- Copy Center requisition forms,
- old appointment cards and unnecessary receipts unloaded from my pockets and other ephemera,
- 35mm slides to be scanned,
- an empty postage-stamp strip,
- wire twist-ties,
- caps to ball-point pens I don’t even use,
- hort industry infomercials masquerading as press releases or “educational materials”,
- spare tins of lip balm and cuticle salve,
- important receipts to file,
- a really cool concave rock to use as a water dish when I refresh Rosie’s habitat,
- the booklet on Inservice courses for Job #2 that I cannot attend because of Job #1,
- beads that are still surfacing from when the curtain tie-back snapped last month, Continue reading Depiling
“It’s been a long week — I bet you’re ready to decompose.”
I stared at my husband, blinking through the mental fog of too-many-jobs-not-enough-sleep.
“I’m not ready for the compost pile yet,” I replied, trying to figure out what his latest malapropism was meant to be.
“Or whatever the term is,” he added.
My brain finally catches up. “Decompress,” I answered.
What an incredibly long week. I can’t remember the last time I had one like this, and in my over-busy world that’s saying something.
Wednesday last week I had a pneumonia vaccination, which left my arm so sore I couldn’t take off my jogbra without assistance, nor even get my hand up to head level until the weekend. Moreover, Continue reading Backwards Symphonies
I keep fixing things around here, increasingly with the wonderful help of the Kid (who at 17 now has skillz in home repairs unmatched by his dad, which is a satisfying thing when you’re a teen).
The bad news is the increasing apparency of a 2b/f ratio, where 2 things break for every 1 thing fixed. I replaced the garbage disposal, and one of the brackets for the shower towel rack broke, chipping the tub enamel as it fell. I replaced a shower head, and the textured ceiling crap is coming off the bathroom ceiling (necessitating scraping it ALL off, then painting on sealant primer and ceiling white), and apparently I need to unclog the P-trap to the bathroom sink. We replaced a light fixture in one bedroom, and I observe that the ants have found a new inlet around the kitchen sink/window, and a curtain tie breaks, spilling beads all over the floor. We replaced a light fixture in another bedroom and two more garments get added to the mending pile.
And so it goes. Which is partly grousing and partly an explanation for why I’ve not finished several posts.
(Oh–there’s another bead…)
Got my computer fixed. It was only gone for a few days, and I backed up my docs and music and pix and extra programs before taking it in, but as I anticipated, it came back with a fresh OS installed. So I had to sort through the shiny new programs and adjust all of my setting preferences, and decide which files I really need to dump back on. After three days of paranoia and considerable annoyance, I found where I had backed up my 200+ bookmarks some three months ago *whew!* Imported calendar data into different program and got to two appointments okay *double-whew!* Finished job app. Got class reports turned in on time.
I feel like I’m making progress, but considering that my Things To Do list never gets any shorter, I might just be walking the wrong direction on a “slidewalk” (moving walkway). But omigosh, I will actually be able to get some blogging done again!
But not soon; I’m tired, and then there’s tutoring and a bunch of errands and an exam to sit and grocery shopping and probably several other things that aren’t coming to mind at the moment, that need to get done first.
On the other hand, I did find a Minuscule that I had not seen before, and I’m going to assume that everyone else is likewise “up to their ass in alligators” and also needing some fun. So kick back and enjoy the surprise ending!
“L’attaque de la sucette rose”
There are a lot of difficult things with getting used to a condition that causes regular pain or chronic fatigue. Part of it is just getting used to the idea that there is no quick fix, that this is the New Normal in our lives.
Part of it is realising that medication and treatments will alleviate some of the pain, but that they don’t always eliminate it. Even if we’re not feeling horribly crappy, that doesn’t mean we can just blaze through the day like we used to. The reductions in overall capacity from tiring and/or painful conditions create additional problems that are not always easy to anticipate.
There are the social issues, of not wanting to sound whiney, but also of needing to advocate for ourselves, and either forgo doing some things or request accommodations for others. Meanwhile, everyone else is still working on the idea that relieving pain means making-it-go-away, and that “if you’re not in pain, then you can do everything just like normal”.
There are weighing issues of prioritising things. When we don’t fully adjust to this new normal, it can be partly denial, and partly not realising just how much the condition permeates things in life. It’s one thing to say, “I’m hurting, I’m not going to do this right now,” or “Doing that causes me too much wear and tear so I’m going to do this instead.”
But it’s quite another to realise that we can’t keep putting things off until “I have more energy” or “I have more time” or “When I’m feeling better in the afternoon”. In reality even though there are better times of day or just better days, and even though we find alternative means, what we find is that we still can’t do all those things.
We can do them, but we can only do some of them. When we’re having a good afternoon or a better day, we then find that we have a backlog of Things To Do. In truth, there was no way we could really could do all of them previously in our lives, which is why everyone has those long To do Lists in the first place!
There are budgeting issues of allotting energy. In the new normal, we not only can do less because we have fewer good time periods, but also because we have to pace ourselves. If we push ourselves too hard, then we crash and feel worse than we would have otherwise, and will just get even behinder. (And both the crashing and the getting behinder result in being grumpier, making us and everyone around us miserable.)
What makes pain such a bastard is not just the direct issue of hurting — a lot and frequently, or variably and all the time — but also the secondary issues of pain causes stress and stress aggravates pain and the dreadful feedback loops.
Chronic stress-pain loops can result in not having much appetite (so not eating regularly or nutritious foods), being more sensitive to the ordinary incidental pains in life as well as the chronic issues, getting more easily stuck in anxious, obsessive or depressive states, having depressed immune responses, and of course, it can create the whole horrible pain-bad sleep feedback loop. There’s nothing like chronic pain to make one realise just how inter-related psyche and soma really are.
Chronic issues mean not having much in the way of energy reserves. It can be really easy to fall into a bad habit of “cheating” the budgeting or pacing by relying upon crisis energy. Lots of people (especially those with AD/HD) rely upon the “salvation by deadline” to get them energised to do or complete a task. But this kind of crisis energy is really hard on the body because it relies upon the adrenaline from the sense of crisis. Once that adrenaline rush is past, we crash. It’s a way of pushing ourselves that is counter-productive in the long run.
People who are able to integrate the new normal successfully throughout their lives are those who do best with chronic issues. The novelty fades and the issue is simply another part of their life. Acceptance is not the same thing as giving up. We can accept that we have problems without abandoning efforts to find new ways of improving things.
Prioritising and budgeting energy are important components of the adjustment, just are various therapeutic approaches and regular stress management. Energy prioritising and budgeting are especially important because they are less about what we cannot do, and are more about enabling ourselves to do things that are important.
Whatever “important” gets re-defined as.
“But pain… seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?”
~Lois McMaster Bujold