December 29, 2009 - life goes on - b/d #51

another birthday, more horror. i hoped to some non-existent universal entity to end my life, but alas woke up again. i so wish i felt like living. i imagined using a bathrobe belt to string myself up in the basement but those ancient supports would never hold my ass long enough.

then of course the guilt: the first voice i hear this morning is my daughter's wishing me a happy birthday. guess if i pulled the plug, i wouldn't have been here to appreciate that! no matter how horrible i feel inside. :)

i took this last week of the month off from work as leftover vacation days don't carryover; i should have just gone to work. i cannot listen to the husband for 1 more minute - dude, there's nothing i can do about your license, you've said all this resentful crap before about state agencies, judges, local government - it's like watching a favorite movie again and again. what starts out like cool heaven turns to shitty hell after the third showing.

he's not speaking to me right now, something that happned last night - and i hear him starting to cough inside. can't be on the pc when he gets up, that means i actually have a secret life away from here and reality.

help. i felt the blackness coming yesterday and it scared me. i'm about 2 weeks post-period and have been sugar-raging for a week. going to pick up a nice cake today for the birthday.

Nation...every day I want to die.

It took every bit of will this morning NOT to drive into telephone poles all the way to work. I remembered something that just tore me up with guilt. In 2001, my daughter was hospitalized twice for depression (she was 14 years old). During one of those admittances, she was calling home 2-3 times a day, saying nothing, just crying. At the time, I know I felt that the in-patient placement was the best place for her - but now, almost 10 years later - I'm hysterical that maybe I handled it wrong. Couldn't I have at least tried to comfort her over the telephone? I remember 1 call in particular, she asked me; "don't you want to talk to me?" while crying. I answered her, "you're not talking, you're only crying. No matter what I say, you only cry." I am such a horrible mother. How cold that must have seemed to her at the time; it feels so heartless to mes now! What made me think of that today while driving to work? I swear things pop in my head like punishments.

I just hate being alive; I'm constantly reminded of what a poor excuse for a human being I truly am. Uselsss, worthless, quite beyond hope.

Nation...it is time to Bring Back the KRAMPUS

Krampus is the dark counterpart of Saint Nicholas, the traditional European gift-bringer who visits on his holy day of December 6th, a few weeks earlier than his offshoot Mr. Claus. Like his American descendant, the bishop-garbed St. Nicholas rewards good kids with gifts and treats; unlike the archetypal Santa, however, St. Nicholas never punishes naughty children, parceling out this task to a ghastly helper from below.

Known by many names across the continent, such as Knecht Ruprecht, Klaubauf, Pelzebock, Schmutzli and Krampus, this figure is unmistakably evil; he often appears as a traditional red devil with cloven hoof and goatish horns, though he can also be spotted as an old bearded wild-man or a huge hairy beast

On December 5th and 6th, in Austria, Switzerland, Croatia, Germany and other regions of European, children greet kindly St. Nicholas with his bag of toys and sweets only to find the Saint's devilish assistant trailing behind. Hideously costumed as a devil or wild man with a whipping switch or chains, Krampus comes to frighten mischievous children into contrition.

Back in America, the rise of a new Father Christmas icon, a modernized St. Nicholas called Santa Claus, plays a central role in recreating the 'traditional' Christmas, a mildly pagan if nominally Christian holiday. The American St. Nick no longer brings his infernal assistant, but instead incorporates some of the elements found in Krampus and his ilk.

This traditional American Santa Claus places coal in bad children's stockings and is occasionally depicted as a punishing figure, sometimes even with a whiff of pagan horror. And like Krampus, Santa seems to knows everyone's moral state, as famously described in the 1932 song 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town': "He's making his list, checking it twice/ Gonna find out who's naughty or nice."

But over the decades Santa Claus seems to have lost his punishing edge. In this age of crass consumerism few if any children receive a lump of coal or prunes in their stockings, or a gift of cleaning supplies under the tree. Are not the services that Krampus provides sorely needed in this land of spoiled and dissatisfied children?

I'm SO ready for Krampus!

end the marriage...?

I always get upset when the husband says we have nothing in common, but we really don't. Not only that, we have nothing about which to even talk. He hates when I read a book, but especially when I use the internet. He calls it my 'other life'. Who wants to discuss the news? how pathetic to go that route. Our family members (his sister & brothers) are so far from our place that discussion of their issues is meaningless. As to our daughter; she is quite her own person and I do not see her staying with us much longer - I'm hopeful until she finishes grad school. Then I know I'll have been a good mother.

I used to cry when thinking about ending my marriage...from fear or the unknown. But how much different would my life be, married or not? I wouldn't be any more alone than I am now; I know I wouldn't be yelled at for whatever chore I didn't perform. That would be a good thing. I wouldn't be running down to the pantry in the basement to scrape my arms with the blade of a knife...just a hint away from true cutting. The only thing I would lose is my house; I could not afford to pay for it on my own, but neither could the husband.

I wouldn't have to listen to his litany of resentments, which always sends me to a bag of tostito's lime chips or a bag of truffles. The empty-carb hour is 330-430; then I start dinner.

my life is drawn out like Dante's Inferno, with it's many levels and rooms of torture.

I've got every symptom - Primary & Secondary

Clinical depression is diagnosed when an individual experiences a severely depressed mood that includes five or more primary symptoms that cause an impairment in usual functioning nearly every day, during the same two-week period.

Primary Symptoms
Feelings of overwhelming sadness and/or fear, or the seeming inability to feel emotion. A decrease in the amount of interest or pleasure in all, or almost all, daily activities. Changing appetite and marked weight gain or loss. Disturbed sleep patterns, such as insomnia, loss of REM sleep, or excessive sleep. Psychomotor agitation or retardation nearly every day. Fatigue, mental or physical, also loss of energy. Feeling and/or fear of being abandoned by those close to one.Intense feelings of guilt, helplessness, hopelessness, worthlessness, isolation/loneliness and/or anxiety. Trouble concentrating, keeping focus or making decisions or a generalized slowing and obtunding of cognition, including memory. Recurrent thoughts of death (not just fear of dying), desire to just "lay down and die" or "stop breathing", recurrent suicidal ideation without a specific plan, or a suicide attempt or a specific plan for committing suicide.

Secondary Symptoms
Other symptoms often reported but not usually taken into account in diagnosis include:
Self-loathing. A decrease in self-esteem. Inattention to personal hygiene. Sensitivity to noise. Physical aches and pains, and the belief these may be signs of serious illness. Fear of 'going mad'. Change in perception of time. Periods of sobbing. Possible behavioral changes, such as aggression and/or irritability.

unbeloved

nation...how sad a picture is a 50-year old woman wishing to be in a fictional place in the arms of a thorough lover whispering unintelligible, yet suggestive-sounding Gaelic phrases breathlessly into her ear (from behind of course!)...? last night, i invited my present day husband into our hot tub - he declined. so in the cool night air, under an overcast sky, listening to the falling acorns, i conjured up my Jamie - to recline under me on a single lounge length with jets of water on my sore feet, and bubbles caressing my sore knees. The jets on my neck became his calloused hands easing the tension from my stressed existence. And I could only sob...for the man I'll never know. Would that I could be just loved and have someone enjoy my company.

as each day passes, i realize not only have I never known in life the love or even mere affection that i imagine feeling from a fictional character (and I never will), but i am starting to think i may be losing my mind. I cry for all the emotions i cannot feel, and all i'll never have. The more I imagine myself with this fictional character, the more I hate who I am and just want to die.

how can something that has brought me so much joy become a mirror reflecting just how empty my life REALLY is? My husband doesn't even like me; I am more convinced of it each day. There is no feeling in his eyes (with the exception of maybe disdain) when he talks to me, the put downs and demeaning tone comes more frequently. Nothing I do or say is accepted or acceptable. i am so alone in this toxic existence, there is no light anymore, no glimmer of anything positive...

I so badly want to give myself over to the ever creeping black that surrounds me; NO ONE would ever even miss me. How sad is this life - that I bring nothing of value to anyone.

Time May Heal All Wounds, But It Certainly Doesn't Change Their Cause

Nation...After the death of my brother in July 2007, I have felt I am wandering this earth alone - my daughter being my only blood relation. But they were all of them deceived; there is another relative I have found - on of all places the internet site Facebook - my cousin Penny. She is about 14 months older than me; I couldn't believe it when I found her. I haven't seen or spoken to her in more than 25 years.

Well, I haven't actually spoken to her yet, however, she has sent me her phone number but I find myself extremely hesitant to call her. First, she hasn't aged a fucking day: she is the spitting image of Mariska Hargitay. Where'd she get those genes? Her mom, my Aunt Julie, is living and still looks good. Penny's got a daughter (that I remember from when we were young: her name is Michele). Well, she's got 2 beautiful children, a girl and a boy! There was also a sister, my cousin Laurie; from what I am gathering in the photographs, Laurie also has children - like 4, but I could be wrong about that.

Why do I hesitate to re-learn my blood family? I don't know; I should be in therapy. I should be thrilled, but I am not. I almost want to kick myself for sending her a message that I thought I recognized her and that we may be related. Why couldn't I just leave well enough alone?

My extended family at the compound in New England is where I feel comfortable; I was always so jealous of Penny and here I am 50 years old feeling like a 10-year-old having a hissy fit. She is engaged and obviously has a very full family life with 2 grandchildren and nephews and nieces. I wonder if she ever married between the birth of the daughter and meeting her fiance? Maybe I should just call her; I can always hang up like a gay idiot, right?

Why do I have to feel I have nothing to offer anyone? God I hate feeling this way. Wish I could have an epiphany.

I did decorate the front of the house this weekend with autumn leaf garlands and red & yellow lights - really looks beautiful.

I may be able to write more this week, as my boss is traveling.

Feeling good in general

Ladies of O-Nation...who says you just can't find good help with the laundry? Check it:

I think this has been photoshopped - not that this guy isn't the hottest thing sincce the great Chicago fire, but the facial skin don't match the bod skin.

What a Difference a Day Makes....24 Little Hours

(Bonus Points if you can name the artist/group who sang the title song)

Nation...I have known for quite some time that every life touches so many other lives, mostly in ways we can never see. I raised my daughter with that knowledge, always trying to have her see that everyone has something positive to offer - sometimes you gotta dig a bit.

When I read the posts I have previously made, I cannot believe they were written by me. I feel like a surfer, riding the waves in an ocean of raging hormones. Cowabunga, dude!

More often than not, I cry while reading...how can this porr person even go another day? Then I realize "omg...it's me." Then I cry harder.



Yesterday was an exceptionally bad day when I started blogging. I had some heavy concentration on how the husband paid me very little attention at all, save to berate me. I have a feeling he is probably on the borderline of a depressive crisis. I hadn't really taken the time to consider that possibility, instead focusing on me and my overflowing pity-pot.

He received a phone call yesterday morning from a friend of his; the friend's wife had a cousin who was indicating they wanted to stop drinking but couldn't, or was scared, whatever (I didn't ask many questions as this is not a matter for family discussion). The husband made some calls and started what became a sort of telephonic intervention, which in the end was for naught as the woman felt better after several hours (of people paying attention to her; it seems to strengthen the fortitude of an alcoholic, to know they haven't totally screwed up yet) and wasn't quite ready to stop drinking.

All in all, just a few hours wasted in the attempt at helping another human being. The husband takes these interventions (as well as complete sobriety) extremely seriously; it's life or death for him. But it gave him a purpose for the better part of the morning. I made sure to let him do what he needed to do, and busied myself with laundry.

After his first set of calls were made and lots of reading was done. he came into the bedroom where I was folding and gently came up behind me. He made it clear, quite quickly, what was currently on his mind. I stretched to fold the towel out before me and he reached around, supporting both my breasts in his hands. "God, they're so heavy. They feel fantastic."

I can't even remember how long it's been since he even said that to me. He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled me in between his legs, and rubbed his thumbs over my nipples through my very thin shirt. My nipples have no conscience and were ready to make their demands known. He slowly lifted my shirt and again held my breasts in his hands, eyeing them appreciately. "They're so lovely" (yes he said lovely - I couldn't believe my ears) "god, they're perfect." And then began a too-short demonstration of the oral worship of heavy, perfect breasts. It was like a hit-and-run; then he was gone. I was left wet & giddy.

After dinner - hours later - we were watching tv. I was laying on the cat, using her as a pillow, he was sitting near my feet. He leaned over and started rubbing my back and neck, then reaching around...god it was wonderful! I sat up wanting to continue the oral worship of earlier in the day, but instead was manually convinced to go back into the bedroom for a proper servicing.

I don't know if there is a moral to this story or not. But I felt alot better after a bit of positive attention, which I'm sure became available because someone needed positive attention from the husband. Maybe like "paying it forward". I'm not even sure, I'm still on cloud 9.

Gay hormones.

Depression Test results = from Discovery Health

The Depression Test - Abridged
Depression is one of the most prevalent and serious mental illnesses in the world today; approximately one in four women and one in eight men experience at least one bout of clinical depression in their lifetime. Almost every one of us has, at one point or another, experienced a "blue mood" as a result of a disruptive life event (like ending a relationship) or day-to-day stress. However, true depression is a pervasive feeling of sadness that impairs our general functioning and lasts for more than two weeks. While we often throw around the word "depressed" to describe any fleeting moment of unhappiness, depression is actually a biological illness that doesn't simply disappear overnight.

As researchers and doctors work to better understand the biological roots of depression, treatment options improve and become more available. With proper treatment, in fact, the feelings of despair, hopelessness, and helplessness can be alleviated so sufferers can go on to live rich and fulfilling lives. Unfortunately, the diagnosis of depression is often delayed, as well-meaning friends and family tell the depressed individual to "just snap out of it". Many people still carry the misperception that depression is a character flaw, a problem that happens because the individual is weak. Because of this stigma, people suffering from depression often hesitate to seek medical treatment.

The first step towards breaking free of depression is diagnosing the problem. The Depression Test is a good start, but if you show any signs of depression you should not hesitate to seek professional advice.

Results of the Depression Test

Depression Index
Your score = 84


What does your score mean?
It's common for people to feel a sense of hopelessness for a time when undergoing certain traumatic but rather common life events, such as significant personal or economic losses. However, this feeling seems to be fairly persistent in your case and a serious condition may be developing. Your feelings most likely interfere with your job performance and/or limit your social activities putting a damper on experiences that have great potential. It is important that you take active steps to decrease the frequency and intensity of these emotions so that they don't dictate the way you carry out your life.

Look over the list of symptoms provided below. If your symptoms are connected with a negative incident in your life, then you might overcome them naturally if you give it some time. However, if there has been no such incident, there may be cause for alarm. Depression is treatable and the success rate is very high. You may feel now that every day is a struggle, but it can get better. After some time, with proper treatment, facing another day will become easier and gradually, you will find joy again. Talk to a physician.
Some of the more common symptoms of depression are:
Changes in sleep habits such as insomnia, early morning awakening, or sleeping too much.
Changes in eating habits such as loss of appetite or weight gain.
Decreased energy, feeling of fatigue.
Restlessness and irritability.
Difficulty in concentration, remembering, and making decisions.
Feelings of hopelessness, helplessness, guilt or worthlessness.
Persistent sad, anxious, or empty feelings.
Loss of interest in pleasurable activities, such as involvement with loved ones or hobbies.
Thoughts of death or suicide. To fulfill the diagnostic criteria for major depressive episode (in other words to receive an official diagnosis of depression), five (or more) of these symptoms have to be present during the same 2-week period and represent a change from previous functioning. At least one of the symptoms must be either (1) depressed mood or (2) loss of interest or pleasure (DSM-IV, 1996).

Stranger in a Strange Land (9.07.09)

Nation...where do I belong? I'm alone in a crowded room, my husbnad wants nothing to do with me - unless he can be telling me how much his life sucks because he doesn't have a license.

Even writing those words I can feel my throat tightening and the tears coming. How many times can you listen to someone say the same thing over and over, and with the same amount of resentment? Am I supposed to pretend that this is news to me? I can't fake interest anymore. We've done all we can; short of a pardon from the governor, I cannot think of anything.

I always drive when we go anywhere, which generally I do not mind. But for god's sake don't resent me because you can't drive. Don't refuse appointments because you can't drive yourself there. Why am I always at the receiving end of the blast?

I feel as fragile as a snowflake, and just one more screaming match will just melt me away. Thoughts of death are always near - but never by my own hand oddly enough. I just want to BE dead; that's not suicidal right? I briefly pictured myself in a hospital, but they won't leave me alone there to just be; they'd want me in some structured day room playing with blocks.

I never feel welcome in my own home; all I do is cry for everything that I am not. I'm totally ungrateful and wish I was anywhere but here.

I want to just disappear, thereby not leaving a mess for anyone to have to clean up. Just want to have never been born. Nothing to offer to anyone, even though I try sometimes. I want to vomit every time I see myself in a mirror. My fucking life is a joke.

Just realized a great parallel to my story: I'm like Miss Celie in "The Color Purple". The only thing I don't have is the beatings.

I also thought before that my marriage day-to-day can be viewed as though a tiny dog is snapping at your ankles; always nicking the skin, but rarely drawing blood. Those bloodless wounds, however, always stay very sore. At least the bloody ones can be tended.

Nation...I woke up this morning still married and still breathing.

My life is an incredible exercise in futility; Ihave never felt more useless, homely and unhappy.
I never do or say anything even acceptable, never mind correct. I mispronounce words like "route"; the husband tells me it's 'root, like a highway'; I said "route (rowt) like when one football teams rolls over another one". He then summed it all up with, "I guess it depends on who you hang out with. We certainly don't have 1 fucking thing in common."

After I kicked over the dining room chair, I spent the rest of the day wondering if maybe he's not right. We will have been married 25 yearsd in 2011, and I was planning to renew my vows in Scotland. Now I wonder why would I spoil such a potentially wonderful trip?

I must be crazy to spend 1 more day in this god forsaken shithole of a life, where nothing is appreciated and I feel like a leper-troll. This man wants absolutely nothing to do with me, if it doesn't involve berating me at some point.

I'm ready to leave, but again It's a holiday weekend - no attorneys are available tomorrow. I was thinkingn before about how great it would be to just never wake up again. My daughter certainly does not need me; she's always at the boyfriends and when we are together it's like she rushes through any time spent with me. I just cannot stop feeling that my husband hates the sight of me, he won't even touch me in passing never mind for anything else. I am left to my mental imagery and manipulation (usually by showerhead); I've never been so clean in my life.

I hate everything about me. and now I'm too old for anyone to even want.

Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in...

My manager has sent me this email: "I’d like to request that you take over the scribing of our meeting minutes as well as setting the agenda and scheduling the meetings as we go forward. Please let me know if you are okay with this request or have any questions/concerns."
Translation: "Oh, you're gonna do it. Whether you enjoy it or not is your own affair."

Nation...I have spent the better part of the last 6 months setting up monthly reports to run systematically with the least amount of hands on from me. Save for a bit of tweaking, like column width changes or font/color adjustments; my reports run themselves. If I could get the opposing systems to email them out, I'd make that part of the process. So that is still me. But during the other 3-weeks of the month, believe me I am bogged! My employees LOVE to rearend other drivers, but they especially love backing into their own vehicles at their homes in their garages or driveways. They run over road debris, dogs, tire dregs and broken guardrails. I AM BUSY. I also set these same drivers up with training as required by the appearance of events on their driving records.

What I want to know is, what happened to the other person in our group who was performing this duty with extremely organized skills? Only response; "This will be a permanent change. "You can be just as organized as Cxxxxxx; I have faith in you." I wanted to write how 'faith is a dangerous thing', but did not. ASked to talk to her about it all today - I have no experience in doing this and I certainly do not want to do it. I barely can stay awake through the conference calls as it is.

Another issue plaguing me currently: I was about to ask for permission to resume going to lunchtime classes at the gym here, and if I'm late coming back - staying after to make it up. Have I addressed the gym issue here yet? I had been going 5 days a week, different class daily, in the best shape of my life, when in April 2008 she couldn't find me to do something ONCE on a Monday and by Wednesday of the same week basically had me written up for extended lunches and told me I couldn't spend more than 45 on a lunch break. "I don't want to infringe on your right to exercise, but I've got to keep the lunch time accurate" or something. I've been hearing from my little gym rats that MY MANAGER has been going to the same gym (usually between 1 and 2 PM after most of the general population has returned to work) for sessions with a Personal Trainer. She's been seen there twice a week for several weeks now. I know it's not her fault that I chose not to continue exercising after work or at home, but the convenience of using a company-sponsored membership ($2) whenever I want; I just really do think of this as an infringement. I don't know what to do about this now.

I'm trying to quit my chocolate coffee drink cold turkey. There is no way I'm going to make it. Today is day 1; I'm plowing through 2 cans per week AND I make it with milk (skim) but still; the drink size is 16oz, which always overfills the cup so there's extra milk, so extra mix, and I'm going through gallons of milk, while my husband and daughter can split their gallon of 1% for more than a week.


I buy organic milk (at like $1.50 more each gallon) but are the cows treated like family when they get milked or is it like a horrible electrosuck factory? I love my chocolate coffee, but when I think of Bossy's brown eyes (and horrible farm images the media insists burning onto my cerebral cortex...) I just don't know what to do about anything anymore.


I have asked the husband to take me to Scotland for the 25th W/A, which is in April 2011. I'd love the SIL and BIL to come, since they got me started on my Outlander series, but it helps that my father's family was from there originally. I've traced tham back as close to the highlands as Falkirk, so I've got to keep digging. At parades, I always run to the bagpipes instead of away from them, so it's gotta be in the blood.

Thursday, August 13 - Neither Menopausal Nor Pregnant

Nation...On Saturday, August 1st (after 2 full months without a menstrual period, but extremely hormonally-despressed and craving sugar), I purchased a home pregnancy test. I'd been certain that as soon as I became glad of having no periods, I'd discover I was pregnant and too far along for a termination ("Go, Palin!") Good news...no further offspring at this point in time; bad news...my period started the very next morning! What are the fucking chances? I hate my body and my life.

On August 4th, the husband had his cataract surgery; August 5th and 12th, his post-op follow-up visits. Surgeon indicated it would take a full month before he saw the complete result; however, on the day after surgery, he was reading license plates from moving cars as they passed us on the highway! He's doing very well with healing per the surgeon, who was pleased at his 1-week post-op progress.

I made note in this blog about 2 weeks ago about the surgeon being out of network, but the office at which she works is IN network. After the visit on 8/12, a staff member gave us a statement regarding the $805 balance. This is after we have paid for the lens implant ($850) and the actual surgery ($1000). It seems that the pre-op appointment from July 15th is being billed by the surgeon, and NOT the office - so no out of network benefits! They want $150 for the actual office visit, plus $700 for various testing that ran about 30 minutes total. Since the husband paid $35 Specialist Co-pay (thinking it was a visit being billed through the office) the balance is $805. I was on the phone with them yesterday, and now waiting for a call back to see if they'll lower their expectations a bit (to maybe what an insurance carrier might pay them! -) Bastards. They always get you.

I'll update this later, as I think my micro-manager will be in the office today.

Back from the Edge

Nation...there is nothing like a family visit to remind you not only how shallow the gene pool is, but also that little amoebas can surprise you with their unpredictable behavior.

By the time the husband and I arrived, I was feeling a lot better. That's always a surprise, because I never know how those feelings will ebb and flow like the tide. The visit with the family was fun; the Atlanta brother-in-law, his wife, and their 2 oldest children were a blast to talk with. Especially the kids; god I miss being young! The oldest is 27 (girl), and she is having a horrible time at work - her job in advertising is just sucking the life from her. She is physically ill with guilt and depression. My heart broke for her. We talked about yoga and some stress relief; she is developing horrible carpal tunnel from never leaving her desk and just the tension in her body. The middle is 25 (boy), and has worked as an investment broker as well as an actuary. I put him to work immediately checking the SIL's 401K (which she had wanted me to move some investments around for her, but I figured why not pick the youthful brain instead, and save my limited cells...) Currently, he is also working in advertising, but working as a sales forecaster for (small world) the rival company of the older sister's client!! He has put an offer in to buy a little Tudor down in Atlanta, while the sister is barely making ends meet. So there's lots of static there. I was seriously counting my blessings.

I finally got to see my middle niece's "new" baby - born last Nov 4th. I did see her at Thanksgiving, but that was 8 months ago! My god, they grow fast...like goslings! She is just the sweetest baby; I cried when I held her. Don't know where that emotional flood came from!

Now, the father in law...I did speak with him at length about the husband's eye. He was under the impression that the problem under consideration was the old trauma injury, but I explained to him that there is nothing they can do with that vision and that it was a very large, dual sided cataract that was causing the current condition. He cried; I cried. I explained the doctor out of network situation; he immediately offered $2,000 to cover the surgery (which I immediately and graciously accepted; although quite honestly that wasn't the reason for my telling him the story. He really surprised me.)

After our trip, I also attended (alone - the husband found someone to let him work for a few days) the fitness conference I've been discussing here. The first class was Friday in Older Adult Fitness. Very interesting and I think I passed the certification exam. The real purpose for my going, however, was the 2-days Yoga Phase I instructor class and certification. Well I woke up Saturday morning at around 4:30 and had an anxiety attack, similar to the one I described on this blog a couple of months ago: room spinning, hyperventilation, nausea. I almost did not attend the class. But off I went; wasn't quite the last to arrive but I was a literal train wreck for most of the morning. The 2 ladies next to me knew each other, and were kind enough to take me in as a third member, so I didn't feel completely left out. I don't know why, but it took a lot of pressure off and made the learning a lot easier. The critical point was having to instruct the entire group in a run through of Sun Salutations, which I did and forgot a section on the 2nd half of my session. Even though lots of us made mistakes, he said we all passed the practical, which was great - that's usually my weak point. I am confident about my performance on the written portion, just need to get my notification in the mail. We'll see how it goes. I'm thinking of maybe doing something on a short term basis, like those night time Adult classes as high schools - it usually lasts like once or twice weekly for 8 or 10 weeks.

I'm so anal, I brought all my own food so I wouldn't have to spend much additional money. The only food I puchased in 5 days was a $4 cup of chowder (like 4 ounces - cheap bastards) and 3 lobster rolls (it took me 3 days to eat the first one I bought - dinner Fri., lunch & dinner Sat., and lunch on Sun.) I took 1 whole one home to the husband and ate 1/3 of the last one for dinner Sun night and brought the rest home to eat there. This single-sandwich feast is mandatory eating up in Massachusetts. I found mine at The Raw Bar on Ocean Street in Hyannis. Order the "original'; it's enough to fully feed at least 2 hungry adults. I had yogurt, fruit and my salad with me, as well as dressing, iced teas, and cereal.

Good to be home; nice to be missed.

Thursday, July 16 - "I may be blind, but I can see you're fucked up..."

Nation...I think it's happening again. I am sick with fear and self-loathing. Everything seems to be just piling up on me, and I can't get out from under.

I had a crazy sugar fit last night after eating 1/3 of a take-out container of penne vodka w/shrimp. I think it may have been the white flour used for the penne. I hadn't even wanted to eat out; I had a beautiful baby greens salad at home with fruit and homemade cranberry-balsamic viniagrette. But the husband is "getting tired of that salad." The guy just consumes mass quantities of whatever is within reach: english muffins (can't even keep them in the house - they disappear) w/butter (breakfast), w/peanut butter & jelly (snack right after breakfast), no lunch, english muffin with cheese (snack right before I get home so he can tell me, "I'm starving, can we eat dinner early maybe?".

I swear it starts the moment I get in the door. I feel so bad for him in his current work situation (there is none), so he just sits on the couch all day and watches TV and eats english muffins, pretzels, chips, etc. He has no friends (only people he works with - when they work) and never talks to anyone all day; so he's full of conversation when I get home. All I want is quiet. The moment he opens his mouth to speak, I'm reaching for salty carbs.

Whatever he has to tell me always seems to do with something I have become responsible for: "did you mail the bills?", "did you call the doctor about the insurance benefits?", "did you fill out that form from the insurance company for the flood insurance?", "did you call the accountant and set up our appointment?", "did you call the doctor and change my appointment?" , "my credit card bill came today; why isn't the payment we made over the internet showing up?", "did you write the amounts you spent at the store in the checkbook? I know you forget all the time and I never know how much money is in there..." and on..and on...and on. I'm at the point where I sort of don't want to go in the house when I get home.

This is really a fucked up situation as well, because now - even though there is no work - if there was work, he wouldn't be able to get assigned. On May 11, all of a sudden a cataract has completely taken the vision in his "good" eye; he had a trauma to the "bad" eye about 20 years ago and hasn't really seen well from it since; nothing can be done. So he continued working with the cataract developing though the end of the last union assignment (Memorial Day). Since then he's been working at our home putting in new bluestone walk and stepping stones from the driveway. He compensates a lot for the loss of vision, but also just from experience does a lot of work by touch.

I haven't been completely neglegent; did get him seen by an opthalmologist, who found him to be borderline glaucoma, so put him on some drops and really got the pressure down. (This is about the time the cataract came on full throttle). She sent him for an MRI (w/regard to the 'pale'optic nerve in the bad trauma eye), which came back with no masses. This led to possibly being a candidate for cataract surgery and picking a surgeon. Coincidentally there is a surgeon in the opthalmologist's office. Great caring doctor, didn't look at us like we were idiots, explained cataracts in simply worded sentences (because we are idiots) discussed the procedure and the special lens she would place in the husband's cataract eye. Everything seemed too good to be true...

She's not in network. He turns to me in and says, "I thought you checked all this already." I was (and still am) devastated. Not so much as she's not in network, but because of his comment. What I heard was, "why did you have me waste my time waiting for and going to these appointments and all the time the doctor is not in network and you could have kept all this from happening if you had just made some phone calls or looked on the internet and gotten some real information..." etc.

I looked through the websites of so many doctors, checked names against my plan. I think I may have assumed the surgeon was in-network because the office she works at "IS" in network, as is the primary opthalmologist also in-network. But as it turns out, even if my benefits would pay for an out-of-network doctor, it would only be at a 50-70%, so we'd still have balance bill. The surgeon's office manager has agreed to charge us the same fee as they charge medicare ($1000) instead of her usual $2500. The special lens costs an additional $850, as it is made to correct astigmatism (so the husband's eyeglass prescription will change dramatically). The surgical center gets an additional $300 (just to have the lens available to you - bastards). This wouuld all be additional cash out even if the doctor was in network; insurance carrier only pays for the straight, plain, no-help-with-your-vision-problems lens.

...but I digress. I was talking about me and my utter black despair. So all I could think must of yesterday (and all of last night) was what a piece of shit I am. All I am is a liability to the family when we have no money to spare. On top of this, I have traded in my Yoga certification tickets from last years conference (that I missed due to a self-esteem crisis) to one happening July 23-26. So again, here I am with no confidence to go (keep thinking 'what the fuck am I thinking? I barely have a home practice') as well as no-money (no fucking bonus this year thanks to my boss and her issues with me that I can't prove innocence of).

I just feel so overwhelmed; we are going to the family compound tomorrow (the husbands brother and wife are coming from Atlanta; haven't seen them since 2004) and coming back Monday. I was really looking forward to going, but now just feel so worthless - I have nothing to offer anyone. Just useless, horribly obese, ugly skin hanging off me, I just want to vomit constantly. I definitely do not want to see anyone.

On July 14th, the husband has made it 19 years without picking up a drink. He has started going to meetings again (not often enough IMHO), but he's going. I was psyching myself up to go to the gym last night, just for 45 minutes, and ending up eating 1/2 package of LU Le Fondant wafers from France and 2 tiny-snack-size HaagenDaaz Coffee and almond bars. On top of the fucking white flour pasta, I felt like there were ants crawling under my skin. I started doing the dishes (because the cabinets were empty and sink was overflowing) to try and be positive, and everything that has been pushed down in my emotional steamer trunk just came out, like it was recovered from the remains of the Titanic. I literally could not stop crying.

So the husband comes home, just as I was finishing the dishes (and the crying). "Why are you crying? What's the matter?" I told him, "I don't know. Everything and nothing..." I forget what else we said next, but I brought up the fact that I have nothing to offer, and it's my fault about the choice of surgeon. "Because of me, we have to pay money we don't have.." He said, "Because of you, I'm getting treatment from the best doctor I could hope to find."

Today is also the pre-op physical for the husband; I'll be driving him.

I just wish the hurting would stop.

Monday, July 6, 2009 - Good Times, Bad Times: Strange Days Indeed

(This entry was started on June 30th)

Nation: so much has been happening lately - we are losing celebrities as though the Plague has made a return to modern earth: Ed McMahon (83), Farrah Fawcett (62 with legendary hair - even with cancer), MICHAEL JACKSON (50!!), and Billy Mays (50 "OxyClean" pitchman). All these people are too rich to die. What is happening here? 4 gone in less than 1 week! Over the weekend (July 4th), triple MVP Steve McNair, former QB of Houston Oilers/Tennessee Titans and then Baltimore Ravens was shot dead - he was 36 years old. Holy crap. Apparently a woman was found shot to death also at the same location.

I have a new iPhone. Just wanted something for easier texting, but through my company I got a phenomenal discount, so I couldn't pass it up. I even got my Tech Dept to circumvent administrative firewalls so I could upgrade to brand new software! (Gotta have a friend in IT.)

So here I am as old as the hills, blind as a bat but I've got cool technology in the palm of my hand.

On a much more somber note, July 1 was the 2 year anniversary of my brother's passing. On that morning while driving to work at 6:45am, I was coming up the hill on Route 17 into Saddle River. There about a quarter mile ahead was the FERGUSON

delivery truck. I cried of course. I could hear Christopher in my

head: "Don't forget about me." Like that could ever happen.

I've been missing Christopher more than usual this past 6 weeks, as my daughter graduated college and I think he would have liked to have been there. I know he would have RULED at her graduation party, which she arranged (we paid) in our backyard - tent, catering, and 3 bands. In between, Band 2 was actually a partially 'unplugged' session with members of #1 and #3 (along with other musically-inclined party guests) playing acoustic (one kid had a mandolin!). No family for us was there at all, which sucked, as they are all so far away and the in-laws (not Grampy) came down from the compound for the graduation ceremony, so they couldn't do both. Here's a pic of the boyfriend singing with Band #1 (that lonely folding chair held the lyrics which nervousness kept Keith from remembering); the acoustic session; and our headliner (which so rocked the neighborhood one of our neighbors from down on the river set up a chair on his deck to listen while his wife and daughter (who is autistic) just danced in their backyard):

I think it's been just about a year for the gray hair experiment. It's certainly a great shade of silver, but it won't grow fast enough. If it's not one thing it's another:

Lots of work stuff (and personal empowerment) going on as well, but that'll have to keep for another day.

Friday, May 15, 2009 - Pain of unknown origin

Nation...In my weakened state, I find it difficult to even think straight. Last weekend, I sort of determined that my always unpredictable blood letting (aka my period) was probably looming (the cravings always a good meter.) By Monday it still hadn't started, but I had tenderness in the left ovary. On Tuesday, the pain had spread literally across my pelvic area and the other ovary joined in the reindeer games. Wednesday the cramping was unrelenting, it had become difficult to stand from a seated position, and my hip joints (not the lower back) were aching. Last night (Thursday) I was getting my nails done at my friend's house - she has 2 huge Great Danes: Spartacus and Storm. These dogs were happily beating me with their tails, which are about 18" long and flexible. It was like getting hit with a black jack or police baton - plus it would wrap around the leg! I could not believe the aching all over my body yesterday; now in addition to the aforementioned lower body stuff, none of which has abated in the least, my upper body is aching. Add to this not sleeping through the night anymore due to 1. the husband choking to death from smoking trying to tell me he's allergic to cats; and 2. fucking menopause. I read somewhere that your sleep patterns can be bad.

Since the day I was born, I have slept like I'm dead; all it takes is 3 deep breaths and I'm out for 8-10 hours. Over the past year, this has been gradually changing. First I'd get up with night sweats, but was able to change pajamas and covers to return to sleep. Within the past 6 months, if I wake and do not get back to sleep in less than 15 minutes, I am up for the night and through the morning. This has happened at 2:30am, 4am, 3am, etc. (And then I start my regular day at 5:30 making lunches, driving [with suppressed reflexes] to work, etc.) It doesn't help that the husband won't shut up if he knows I'm awake. He has never been a good sleeper; he has sleep apnea and startles himself awake, and then asks me "what are you doing?" as though I was banging pot lids together.

The pain today is pretty bad, and I'm starting to get worried. If I warm my hands and lay them flat over both ovaries it really feels good, but the minute the downward pressure is removed, the pain returns.

One of the directors here was in Mexico about 2 weeks ago, and I heard him complaining yesterday about how he felt so crappy when he woke up the past 2 mornings, he was asking himself, "should I go in today?" BUT THEN HE COMES IN!! Who comes to work when they're sick, especially when you've just returned from a place where medical care is non-existent. I bet this guy has brought his swine flu in here.

Upcoming events (if I don't die of ovarian necrosis): the daughter graduates from college May 28th, which is another story as it involves less admission tickets than I have asked people to come and now I'm stuck; same weekend, the creator of Jamie Fraser - my only love - author of my beloved Outlander series will be appearing in NY at an industrial trade show. I've managed to get tickets to this event through my publishing connections here at work. I want to surprise the in-laws since they gave me my first copy of Outlander and started this madness, and it's their anniversary the same weekend. They're coming all the way from the family compound in New England (and they are the ones for whom I'm scouting tickets for the graduation! I am in a real pickle)

Gotta go, my neck is starting to hurt and I've got tons to do today.

Thursday, May 7, 2009 - Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

Nation: the past few weeks have been tumultuous; work is going quite well, home life is returning to quasi-normal as the husband is finally working again. My daughter has applied to graduate school and there was an interview as part of the application process. She had been unable to reach the phd in charge of her program, as his voicemail was full, and he wasn't answering emails. When he finally called, on the Friday night before Easter, his cryptic telephone message indicated that she "should meet him in Parking Lot 3, behind the Charter School, on Mon., April 20, at 12 Noon". We all thought "how odd..." but maybe it's easier to meet her there, and then proceed inside for the interview. She and I both took the day off from work and, with the husband playing logistics commander at home by Weather Channel and voice-comm, we drove down to the school - in an absolute downpour - to wait, ever patiently, in parking lot #3. The PhD never showed up! Nor had anyone seen him when my daughter called the Psychology Dept of the grad school. She left 2 messages; we waited from 11:45AM-1:50PM and then drove over to the undergrad school in NYC and picked up the actual bachelor's degree: Forensic Psychology cum laude.

Almost a week went by before I found the name of an advisor at the grad school who could maybe help out. My daughter wrote to him; he responded same day by email and by phone. By the next day, she received an email from the original PhD, who was 'sorry for the miscommunication- as he thought he told her to meet him at the Charter School in some-such room number.' I saved the original telephone message in case crap ever came from it. So they re-scheduled an interview, Mon., April 27, at 6:45pm - in between classes. My daughter was like, "how much time can he be giving me? There's only like 15 minutes between classes at night down there." Well, she was right; she was in and out by 7:05pm. He basically reiterated what he had explained at the Open House '74 credits, rigorous program...' and said he was looking through her documents and GRE scores (my daughter said her heart dropped as her scores were nothing to brag about), but then added: "I don't think you'll have any problem getting into this program."

I think she was more shocked than anything; thrilled, yes - but how could this guy make such a determination when each of the ONLY 8-12 accepted students each semester would also have to pass a panel of the entire department of people. So this guy was basically putting words in the mouths of about 6 other PhDs! She was 'cautiously optimistic'...


Email arrived this morning at her undergrad school email account: "Congratulations on your acceptance..." I am so happy for her; my bowels have been in an uproar ever since she got the sentence out! I feel a bunch of different emotions: I am also a bit scared; not of any inability to complete the workload. As this comes closer to becoming a career reality, I am concerned about her exposure to children (teenagers, too) whose problems may place her in a vulnerable position.

How many therapists have been attacked by their patients? What about school shootings?
Gotta try and not think so much about that stuff. Just be happy for this moment in the sun!


The reason for this blog...the hair. I really love the color of the hair; so many women here at the job tell me that if their gray looked like mine they'd stop coloring. That's really nice. Guess it helps that my hair is thick as well. It just seems to be stuck not growing. I really want it to get long like that older model, Cindy Joseph. She started modeling at 48!! I've posted her pic below. When it gets just long enough for a pony tail, I might buy a long extension and do an "I Dream of Jeannie" ponytail with a braid wrap.


Me today

Monday, Apr. 13, 2009

Nation...On April 1st (quite appropos) I had the required opportunity to sit through a "tear down" session (aka the yearly review and appraisal) with my manager who, in an very unexpected show of god-knows-what, grabbed my hand during the review and told me how committed she is to my success here at the company. How do you respond to that? I would have more expected an MMA cage match in her office. Totally caught me off guard. So I put my other hand over hears and patted it. Long story short, I have been placed on Performance Review (like probation) unknown # of days. I was apparently putting out crappy work last year, along with being late (is 7:05am late for a 7:00 start? I'm told it is); leaving early (NEVER!); but the worst was being told "in a random sampling of emails, a number of Jackie's responses were found to be curt." Nation, on my worst day ever - screaming at the husband, sucking so much oxygen that my dental plate dislodges from the roof of my mouth, I am not curt. I am genetically incapable of being curt. I just wanted to put this whole episode behind me, and since I have no intention of going out and looking for another job, I signed the paperwork and promised myself that if anything comes up that's questionable here on the job, I'm going right to her and talking about it. Apparently I can't trust a co-worker that I've been talking to. Funny thing; this co-worker cries in emails all the time about how she thinks the manager is mad at her; no responding to her emails, etc. So I keep my fucking distance from anything here except my pc, which has been spitting out Disturbed and Slipknot of late. Nobody bothers me.

My much-beloved child will be walking in graduation ceremony at the end of May. She has graduated cum laude ("with honors" for all non-Latin inclined readers) with a degree in Forensic Psychology, and has applied to graduate school for a masters in Educational Psychology and Professional Certificate in School Psychology. I stated early on here in this blog that she is everything I'm not, and more than I could ever hope to be. And she is. :)

The sister-in-law and husband are coming down from the family compound for the ceremony. Now I'm scrambling to get 1 more ticket to the graduation, as each student is only allowed 4, and with the boyfriend coming also, that only left 1 ticket. I'm already dicking my husband's 91-year-old aunt, who has been asking since last year and wanting to go. I'm sure I'll burn for this.

Hair is crazy grey but seems to be only growing in the fron on top of my head. Can't wait till it's long enough for a pony tail. Like the old gray mare - she ain't what she used to be!

Mon., Mar. 16, 2009 - Armagedden

Nation...I'm about as sick to my stomach as one can be with the knowledge of an impending shitstorm from which you cannot jump away. I'll probably be getting my review today, as the manager has been away all of last week - giving reviews to my counterpart in Colorado and the safety manager at a Texas facility. I don't know why reviews require a face-to-face in the age of webcasts, webex, and webinars; not to mention rotary dial telephones. She never sees these people anyway; how can she possibly hold them up to any type of measuring bar for job performance?

I ended up writing a separate 2 full pages of documentations over the accusations and treatment I have received from her over the past year (Jan 2008 - current). A dear friend of mine has told me that I am still grieving for my brother, which is of course quite true. I'm sure most of anything I thought, said or have done since July 1 2007 has been under a haze of grief. My boss has lost her father (after a long illness 4 years ago); her mother is still quite alive as is her sister. She was quite close to her father and was very upset when he passed, however, I do not think she can empathize with me over my loss, but when thinking of this, I do not hold it against her. I do not think she has any idea of the way she comes across: she seems to think she manages with her heart first and then her head, but I think by 'heart' she means interpretive feelings. She feels she cannot trust me, yet she has no way of proving any of her suspicions and, conversely, I have no way to prove that I am here on time, and staying later than necessary - if that's what it would take FOR her to trust me. I asked security and IT for reports indicating my building arrival/departure times, computer login/logoff times. Both have indicated that the company does not record this information as it would be too much of a potential Big Brother situation.

I know I have stated in this blog previously about her trust issues with me. I have also stated that it's all I can do to keep from laughing in her face about trust. I know from long, painful experience that there is nothing in this world that can move one person to trust another, once they get a thought in their head. Doesn't matter that the thought, once verbalized, is denied by the so-called guilty party. It also doesn't matter that the thought CAN be proven to be FALSE; the suspicious mind will never bring it to that point. Then they'd have to question themselves, "could I maybe have been wrong?" Individuals with self-esteem issues are always suspicious of the ones closest to them; probably for whatever reason they thinkof themselves as either unlovable or unworthy. And it never, ever matters how much or how often they hear otherwise. They just are incapable of believing it.

Oh well...
Into the valley of death rode the 600 ("The Charge of the Light Brigade")
Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I fear no evil, for thou art with me (funeral rite)
It's the end of the world as we know it; but I feel fine (REM)
This is the end, beautiful friend, the end (The Doors)
"Stay alive! No matter what occurs; I will find you." ("The Last of the Mohicans")

If I survive the battle, I will return to blog again.

Fri., Mar. 6, 2009 - My Cubicle is The Doom Bunker

Nation - life as I have known it is over. It's been almost a month since my last post, however, it seems like yesterday. I didn't mention last time that my boss told me on Fri., Feb 6, that she was placing me on Performance Improvement Plan (because '2008 was a tough year for me, and she hated having to do it because I was doing fantastic work in the past 3 months. Everyone is happy with reports, ins cards, certificates...') when she reviewed my appraisal in the following week (Feb 9-13). The appraisal didn't happen, but I was so thrown by it that I called a contact I have in HR (and NOT the person assigned to me because she cannot be trusted.) I saw my contact at a different location and told her everything that my boss had said. I was concerned because I had been on a PIP in 2005, so I felt that maybe 2 in your folder could be termination grounds...corporate crap, so concerned with having proper paperwork. Anyway, turns out it wouldn't be a problem jobwise, but she said once I got the review on paper to bring it to her and we'd go over it and see what, if anything, was worth fighting. Excellent idea.

Well, today is exactly 4 weeks since my boss told me about the upcoming placement, and I have yet to have my appraisal/review. She's going to CO to give my counterpart hers on Monday, then traveling to TX later in the week to give the Safety Mgr his. How long should a condemned man need to wait for execution? It's basically the same thing. Anyway, she popped a gasket yesterday because I took the initiative to ask a question about a Sales Rep that I discovered was driving in her personal vehicle to do her job (we have a fleet of cars to assign our drivers). I told my boss verbally that a sales rep was driving her own verhicle and she said "she can't do that". The woman I questioned sent my email to some exec who wrote me back a dissertation of stuff, very little of which had to do with my original 1 line question. So I forwarded his paragraph to my boss and simply stated: Following below is an email that I think you should definitely review to respond. She sends me back an email: You never should have asked the question in the first place. There are thresholds in place that the groups determine on when to put a person in a company vehicle as stated below. How do you plan on responding to this or do you expect me to now? I printed the email and I plan to bring the whole scenario up at my appraisal. If there are things going on behind the scenes in the corporate auto program, I feel I should know about them so I know how to respond to something when I hear about it. She wants me to handle the day to day of the auto program, but wants to tie my hands by keeping me like a mushroom.

In addition to printing out that email, I've started going through some older stuff in which she corrects my grammar, tells me to say thank you, and other crap. I've started keeping notes of what transpires on a daily basis so I can add it to my appraisal at the spot where they ask "What Can Your Manager Do to Help You Achieve Your Objectives?" I think I'll need a second sheet.

I'm tired of playing her bitch.

I was just physically sick for the rest of the day; I wanted to call the husband just to cry, but didn't want him to have to hear me when it was so fresh. I called my friend who is the Asst Manager of the vehicle program and talked to her. She said I'm way too analytical (about the program.) I just know that if I had said "great someone is not driving a fleet vehicle" and forgot about it, this person would have an accident, and it would come back to me that I knew she wasn;t in a fleet vehicle and why didn't I mention something to someone. It was just eating at me all afternoon and evening, and then my husband made some comment about how he knows what I'm thinking while I'm doing something and I just lost it. "You do not know what I'm thinking." I don't even remember what else I said; but as he went outside I just got sobbing and choking hysterical. Calmed down shortly thereafter, but after going to bed at 10:00, I was having a fucking hot flash at 230 this morning so got up to pee and was just struck with the dizziness of a full drunken sailor: the room started spinning, my eyes wouldn't focus. I had to reach out and hold the wall just to give my eyes a non-moving object to focus on. Then more crying (scared crying) as I walked my way down the bedromm wall on my hands to the bathroom. The bathroom was spinning, I was hot, I was cold, I was hyperventilating. I went out to the living room to sit - sweating under a little blanket, but freezing if I came out. Then my mouth started watering, the burping started and vomit flowed. Thankfully I made it to the bathroom, barely, but as I stood there vomiting, each body-shaking retch squeezed my bladder and I was soaked from crotch to knees. Same thing happened to me after surgery: puking coming out of anesthesia, and peeing with each hurl. Add major incontinence to my ever-growing list of "life blows" symptoms.

Friday, February 13, 2009 -

Nation - so much has been going on since my last post, I've been mentally and physically very busy. The husband is on vacation in the Virgin Islands; he'll be back on Sunday after being away for 10 days. I had thought I'd be at the gym every day, really going full throttle back into taking better care of myself (I started back on Sat., Jan. 31st and absolutely overdid it; I was crippled until the following Wed., Feb. 4th) Instead of going back on the night of the 5th (the day the husband left) I went out to Cheesecake Factory for dinner with my daughter and her boyfriend (they gave us 3 slices of cheesecake free because they screwed up on our table assignment! How fortuitous that I had chosen to return to the gym!) I digress...

My intention was to go back to the gym; instead I have been painting my living room and dining room since Monday night after work. I've been up until 1AM every night this week: taping edges and removing electrical outlets (Mon), cutting in with a 2" brush (2 colors, 2 rooms Tue), rolling on coat #1 (2 colors, 2 rooms Wed), rolling on coat #2 (2 colors, 2 rooms Thu). Tonight, I will be doing some final touch ups, replacing hardware and pulling tape. Cleaning paint rollers is an exercise in futility. The absolute worst thing about painting is the clean up! What a fucking mess! And you have to do it each time you use the brushes, rollers, and pans. In my humble opinion, I think I did a great job, considering I have never brushed 1 stroke on any wall, anywhere. I have a whole new respect for painting contractors. After a full week of sweat, soreness (including spasms in my tendonitis-stressed elbow), paint in my hair, 4 hours of sleep per night, 8 hours of "abuse from my boss" work per day, I hope the husband isn't too upset with the depth of the colors I chose: Dark Ash (very dark grey) and Evening Hush (extremely dark/deep grey.) I gotta be about the gray, right? I think it looks very hip, and surprisingly elegant.

My elbow is killing me, and my right hand is throbbingly sore - no blisters, though.

Haircut tomorrow morning; how does hair become too long overnight to gel? One day it was good, then suddenly it all went to crap. Color is great though; one of the best decisions I've made as an adult.

Meeting my daughter for lunch; god I need sleep. I want to get that painting done TONIGHT - no exceptions. I may turn up the hot tub and soak on Sat night. Picking up the husband on Sunday night, and taking off Monday for a nice reunion day.

OH - almost forgot; while lying on the living room floor unscrewing socket covers last night, my daughter stepped out the front door (I figured maybe forgot something in her car.) She came back in with a dozen roses and a little bag containing a teddy bear and a heart box of truffles!

Special delivery - for me - long distance from the Caribbean! The husband is very disobedient: I told him no Valentine stuff, as we could do something together for the crazy prices they charge.

I'm glad he didn't listen! Happy Valentine's Day!

Sunday, January 25, 2009 - Early Bird

Nation...it's the dawn of a new America. Did anyone watch the Colbert Report on Inauguration Night? OMG it is classic TV with Stephen weeping and weeping! The spot goes on for close to 6 minutes, and it is just classic Stephen. I tried to embed the vid, but I think it's too long for the blog, so here's the link: http://blog.indecision2008.com/2009/01/21/stephen-colbert-gets-emotional-over-obamas-inauguration/ He is only sniffling in the beginning, but into the 4th minute, he is a snotty mess!

I've been feeling really good since my last post (the 3rd!). Work is going well, but the launch of the driver safety program is suffering from some glitches. I'm trying to work with those responsible, but it takes so much time out of the day, I sometimes don't feel as though I'm accomplishing all that could be done.

Physically I seem to be at an impasse with my body. I have been ruthlessly performing cardio of 55 minutes (Fri., 63mins, and yesterday 68mins) and when I got on the scale I weighed exactly what I did when I last saw the doctor. I see her on Thursday, so we'll see what she says.

The husband is already up and talking constantly, making comments about me being on the internet already. This is why I get up early, to be left alone - but to no avail.

Ok he's outside. I had crazy dreams about the ex-boyfriend last night. My daughter had an unexpected meeting w/her boyfriend's ex and another girl who broke up her first love. She was uncomfortable with the situation and we talked about it. The husband said "oh, it should be okay that if you see an ex that everyone sdhould be able to get together..." She and I were in the kitchen stuffing shells and I marched into the living room and started ranting about how during the workers compensation injury (2002-2004) and were at the medical mill in Elizabeth, I saw the ex-boyfriend on line to be seen and I thought I was gonna die. I wanted so much to say something, but due to his raging jealousy (which would have lasted for 2 weeks) which undoubtedly would have followed my even saying hello, I didn't and now I don't know if he even recognized me (I hope he did) never mind anything else.

He said, "you were foolish not to say hello." So what do I know? Nothing and less. My whole life is based on second-guessing.

Saturday, January 3, 2009 - Black Veil

Nation - is someone sane when they can feel the depression coming on? I can't even word what is wrong, but I am crying as I write this. I feel so stupid and worthless, I don't want to do anything that might take time to make me feel better; this includes cleaning the house, cooking, walking. I've been sleeping not only my 8 straight hours at night, but have taken 3-hour naps on Thursday and Friday, and am looking forward to one today.

I have to postpone my upcoming doctor appt, because I want to make sure I lose a couple of pounds so she keeps me on the phentermine. I also want her to up the dose. I've been using 37.5mg for years on and off (she doesn't know this), and she's got me on 15mg. Like that will ever help my fat ass.

This depression comes on the heels of the most hormonally-surged two weeks I've had since I can't even remember when. Following my husband around the house like a dog in heat. When I think of it, I'm kind of grossed out, as who wants an out-of-shape 50 year old panting around? I guess it's okay with him, or else he's a really good actor.

I do need to venture out later for a huge container to hold wrapping paper, and I need a couple of bottles of sandalwood-scented oil for my warmer in the car.

OK - back from the slog of humanity that is Saturday shopping in Paramus. I went - for the very first time - to The Container Store. What a bunch of crap! The prices were outrageous. Everything was made in China. I'm so tired of everything, it's nauseating. I never made it to The Body Shop for the sandlewood oil; too tired.

I need my Jamie, in his kilt, riding behind me on horseback, whispering all he'll do to me once we get home.