Bzzzzzzzz the anxiety is high today. Bzzzzzzz It rings in my ears, vibrates through my bones, reverberates through my skin and echoes through my lungs as my chest tightens in around itself like a nervous armadillo. Bzzzzzz my eyes lose focus and my train of thought ceases. Bzzzzzzz I forget how to breath and here comes the tears. It’s getting dark. It’s a panic attack.
This is how I started my morning. The last few days I’ve been physically and mentally exhausted. I’m wide awake all night long and unable to fall asleep until almost lunchtime. I get a few hours of snooze and then I’m up again. Not quite awake but not asleep, I’ve been drifting through the last few days like a ghost.
I’ve had a lot of pain in my wrist/arm which I am now convinced is broken but I loathe hospitals and rarely have a drive so I haven’t gone and gotten it checked out. What the hell am I gonna do with a cast on my arm? I got shit to do. I usually have to feel like I’m physically dying to justify going to the Emergency room. With all the pain in my wrist, back and neck, the only way I’m comfortable is lying down. I’ve gotten nothing done around the house, I haven’t blogged or been on Social Media, other than brief lurking and Gif viewing.
I’m just tired.
Tomorrow, we travel home to Nova Scotia for Christmas. We have to take the ferry. It wouldn’t be as bad if we had a car but lugging all our suitcases and my little dog and standing outside in the weather until boarding time then all the walking you have to do once you board just kills my body. I have to drop my dog off at the kennels and then go up stairs to find a place to perch. It’s the holidays so I’m guessing the boat will be packed with people. Ugh. It’s usually cold on the boat so I’ll have to bring a blanket. The whole thing is a pain in the ass. I look forward to the day when we can just pack up our car and drive there, avoiding all the noise, hassle, pain and cold of the ferry. I usually need a day or so to recover from the travel. It’s embarrassing.
It’s a week of visiting and dinners and family and friends and food I’m not supposed to eat. I’ve mentioned before how I’m not in the Christmas spirit at all this year, so it’ll be a week of acting, watching my language and making sure my dog doesn’t poop anywhere in the house. My mother in law’s house is really large so it’s a lot of walking and stairs. At some point, my legs will go out and I’ll be stuck in the basement for a day crying out of frustration and humiliation.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my in laws. They’re wonderful people and they’ve been very kind to me. I love to see them and the little nieces. It’s just me. My body doesn’t always cooperate. I get tired fast. I just run out of spoons. It both depresses and frightens me so I cry. I’m peri menopausal so I cry. I’m grateful for their kindness so I cry. I cry over everything these days. It’s embarrassing and I don’t want them to think less of me.
I’m a bumbling, Pajama wearing mess.
But I have to try to be normal for a week.
I have a ton of shit to do today to prepare for our trip, I just want to crawl back in to a warm bed and sleep.
How do you handle all the activity during the holiday season?
What do you do when you just don’t have enough spoons?
I love reading your comments!
Subscribe to my mailing list and follow me on Twitter @LezGeek
We’re an indulgent society aren’t we? We binge eat, binge drink, binge watch ourselves in to addiction, obesity, diabetes, loneliness and isolation. When it comes to indulgence, we don’t do anything half-assed. We save the sloppy for the big things, the things that really matter. Things like personal relationships, jobs/careers and responsibilities will often get thrown by the wayside to make room for some of our dark indulgences..
I’m going to tell you about one of mine…
A few years back… wait… it’s been a decade. Where does the time go? Anyway, a decade ago, my aunt gave me 2 dozen homemade shortbread cookies. It was Christmas, and she knew they were my favorite. Christmas Eve I found my self watching the old 1951 black and white A Christmas Carol starring Alastair Sim, alone, an annual tradition of mine- when I realize I’ve eaten all 2 dozen cookies. I had purchased some shortbreads from the store earlier not realizing I would get these homemade ones, so I found those and I ate them too.
This was not, and wouldn’t be my last rodeo battling shortbread addiction.
Years prior, I visited my mother in Ontario for the holidays. In anticipation of my arrival, she baked 4 dozen shortbread cookies. I ate them all. Myself. True story. I couldn’t shit for a week. Since the counter on which they enticingly sat was a mere foot step and a hop away from the bathroom door, I would grab one or 2 on my way. Each time I passed that alluring plate, I would grab 1 or 2. I would wake up in the morning with ghost crumbs on my face and pillow without recollection of having eaten cookies.
This remains a battle to this day. Every holiday season I simply MUST have shortbread cookies. I’ve seen myself counting coins out at home only to rush to the store to buy the in-store baked shortbreads. They’re not as good. Must be missing the love. They’re made with minimum wage resentment instead of love. Not the same at all.
My lust for the sweets doesn’t end there. It also extends to cakes, pies, loaves, donuts, flaky pastries, cupcakes and squares. (I like to eat)
I’ve baked and iced chocolate cakes only to eat the entire thing myself in 2 days.
My inner “Sweets Whore” has no personal time clock. She will covet a slice of that chocolate cake your sister in law made at 3 am. She doesn’t care if everyone’s asleep. She will make you eat cheesecake in your underwear over the sink at midnight like some kind of sugar fiending Gollum. No shame.
In recent years, I have been diagnosed with a wheat/gluten intolerance. Now when I eat baked goods I inflame. I swell in my hands, eyes, feet and legs. I get eczema patches and rashes all over my body and face, particularly my eyes. I get furiously tired, unfocused and scatterbrained.
Well played God. Well played.
I think you’ve had enough cookies my child.
What about pie?
It’s going to be challenging going home this year for Christmas. There’s always delicious food and homemade things everywhere. I have to stay away because I can’t take the consequences anymore. It’s hard to really enjoy that cake when you know that the next day, you’re going to fully understand why dogs bum scoot on carpets.. Yeah… that’s a symptom of wheat allergy/gluten intolerance.
I must stay strong. I can do this.
Are you addicted to sweets?
Do you have a wheat allergy or gluten intolerance?
I started to write Blogmas posts but quite frankly, I’m just not feeling writing about Christmas. See my first Blogmas post here.
It’s all so commercial. Geared towards the consumer. I haven’t been a proper consumer in years. I haven’t been able to work in years. I’m trying to do things from home. It’s picking up but it’s slow going. When you’re poor and chronically ill and in pain daily, your priorities change in life. Where, at one time I fretted over things like the perfectly decorated Christmas Tree, or making sure I baked enough cookies. Will I get all my Christmas shopping done in time? Now I think things like, can I stay awake long enough to visit with people? How many bed ridden days will this holiday bring? Can I handle the stress of the travels? Am I going to break down and cry in front of her family? Am I going to annoy my partner because I’m so exhausted I’m going to need to rest when she wants to go out?Please don’t let my dog poop in the house. There’s a lot of stairs in that house and the house itself is huge. My body is not used to that, so my legs and back often give out while I’m there. It’s embarrassing. ME/CFS is embarrassing. The only other people who understand it, typically, are those with the disease. To others, we’re just depressed or lazy or need to get out more or or or.
My partner and I also both lost our fathers. Hers to cancer about 16 months ago; mine at his own choice by cutting me out 18 months ago. The loss of her father still hangs heavily on everyone’s hearts. He was a great man. A kind, gentle and caring man; one of a kind. My father, still alive, has always been kind of a jerk. Selfish, immature and somewhat ignorant of the world. He’s not a loving man. Nevertheless, he’s my Dad. I still love him and his absence hurts. My mother’s absence hurts; we haven’t spoke in 5 years. Family is actually incredibly important to me and it’s always bothered me that mine is so fractured.
Being chronically ill disables you. Physically and mentally. Unfortunately many of us fall into that grey area on paper where you don’t qualify for provincial or federal benefits. Most people require legal representation to get those federal benefits. If you can’t work, you rely on your “family”. My family consists of my partner “C”, my dog Lucy, my partner’s family and my sisters from other misters. These are my close gal pals that I confide in. That confide in me. They’ve helped me many times. I trust these women. In my life, I haven’t been able to rely on or really trust my own blood family, but I can trust these women. They are my support.
I have other things on my mind right now besides Christmas. I’m more concerned about getting by day by day. My partner’s job could be gone any time because there’s no job security where she works. I can’t go in to detail about what she does as it’s kind of a public job. It’s stressful. So, are we out spending money on presents? No, we’re trying to keep up with bills and the ever increasing cost of eating healthfully which costs just as much as our rent I might add.
Do I want to write a holiday inspired post everyday? No. Not really? I just don’t give a tiny rat’s ass right now. I’m still battling a virus, my partner has it, my wrist is still healing/broken. I won’t know unless I sit at the hospital emergency for hours and hours because let’s face it, it’s not really an emergency, I just don’t have a doctor and really need an X-ray.
I need a nap.
Please subscribe to mailing list and don’t forget to follow me on Twitter @Lezgeek
We all have our guilty pleasures. Those weird little things that give us joy or instant gratification that we rarely talk about out of fear of being made fun of. Well, fear be damned. I’m coming clean.
On Being “Dirty”
One of my many guilty pleasures happens rarely. I’m a clean freak. Like personal hygiene- clean freak. Even though I have ME/CFS and arthritis which sometimes means I am in too much pain to get a shower that day, I always push myself to do so even if it means I am lying on the tub floor while the shower beats off my sore body. Every now and then though, I say Fuck it. I’m not doing it today. Then I proceed to remain filthy for the day. Filthy to me anyway. It’s not like I’m going out daily getting covered in tar and feathers, I rarely leave my house and I am more likely to be covered in peanut butter toast crumbs. The part 2 of my filthy day involves just laying on the couch all day reading a good book with my dog laying on me. No phone, no texts, no Facebook or Twitter notifications. Just dirty me and a book. Heavenly.
Most of my favorite TV shows are British. My 2 absolute favorites being Doctor Who and Coronation Street. I own EVERY Doctor Who episode from Classic to the 2010 Reboot/current series. The only episodes I don’t own are the ones that were destroyed or lost by BBC. 54 years of the Doctor, his companions and their travels. I have Doctor Who everything in my home. Shirts, Bathroom accessories, including a TARDIS toothbrush holder, mugs, glasses, nightlight, calendars, Christmas Tree decorations including a Weeping Angel tree topper. Daleks everywhere. Let’s just say, when “C” and I first met, her first impression of me was Giant Nerd/Dork. As for Coronation Street, I’ve been watching on and off since I was a child. My grandfather watched it, and my mother watched it. I’ve been a die-hard fan, never missing an episode for about a decade now. I’ve read the giant book, “Four Decades of Life on the Street”, I have a pile of Corrie magazines, a Corrie Teapot, tea mug, keychain and even the limited edition Corrie Trivia Game that I have never played with anyone. It’s predictable sure, everyone sleeps with everyone else’s spouses, someone is always evil and someone will get their “come uppance” soon. I love it. Other honorable mentions go to Downton Abbey, The Thick of It, The Catherine Tate Show, BlackAdder, Red Dwarf, Peep Show, (and anything Mitchell and Webb do), Sherlock, Black Mirror, and Absolutely Fabulous (anything Jennifer Saunders does really). I just find British TV more satisfying than American programming. The acting is better, the writing is better and it’s deeper. I find American TV goes beyond what it needs to be, trying to impress with effects and set designs and large salaries but the scripts and writing are often too weak for me. No.
On Peanut Butter & Snacks
I’m a peanut butter freak. “C” always complains I don’t leave her any. I put that shit on everything. I even dip plain potato chips in it. If I’m hungry, I grab a spoonful of peanut butter and the world seems right again. I am also addicted to Diet Coke. I know it’s bad for me with it’s aspartame and such but I just can’t give it up. To me, there are few things more appealing than an ice cold can of Diet Coke in all it’s carbonated glory. Delicious. Satisfying. Bad for you. I cannot be trusted around baked goods either. Despite my gluten intolerance and severe reactions: if I see cake, I’m eating cake. I am not above getting up in the middle of the night at my mother in law’s house and sneaking up to the kitchen oh so quietly to sample her baked wares. She’s an excellent baker, and I can’t resist or control myself. I usually end up going home swollen with skin issues and one partially closed eye, but… Cake. Other guilty pleasure snacks include dark chocolate (preferably with peanut butter), potato chips in a rainbow of flavors and seeds and nuts.
On Music Preferences
My favorite band of all time is Metallica. I have been a fan since I was 13 years old and have all their albums. I listen to them almost daily. Other favorites include Queens of the Stone Age, anything Jack White does, the Black Keys and 90s Grunge. That being said, when I’m in a mood, I’m not above blasting Kelly Clarkson, Cher, Jill Barber, ABBA or old Carpenters tunes. My favorite, feeling good song is Nina Simone’s I’m Feeling Good. I also reluctantly, enjoy Kanye West‘s old music. Jesus Walks is my all time favorite rap/hip hop tune. I’m not versed in new music at all. I kind of found a decade I liked and stuck with it. I am not ashamed of knowing all the lyrics to old Linda Ronstadt songs either.
My Hobbies & Interests
I have many. I have a hard time just sitting still and doing nothing. I need to have something to do with my hands at all times. Be it a video game on my IPad, coloring in one of my many Adult Coloring books, knitting or writing. I used to paint as well and it’s something I really miss but I need supplies. I have painted pet portraits for a living in the past. Animals are my favorite painting subject. Particularly dogs. They have such expressive faces and pure souls. It brought me a lot of joy. I created a website for my paintings several years ago but I haven’t kept it up to date but you can view my paintings here (it’s not set up for mobile devices however).
Other Things to Come Clean About
I’m a book hoarder collector. I have hundreds of books and thousands more digitally. I’ll never read them all in my lifetime. It doesn’t stop me from getting new books though.
I like taking hour long baths with my Ipad. I put something good on, like I don’t know, Doctor Who, and sit in the hot water submersed. It’s heavenly and oh so relaxing.
I love ALL the dogs. I may not know your name, but I know your dog’s name, his interests and time of day he likes to poop.
I love miniature things. I have a miniature dachshund. If it were socially acceptable, I’d still have a dollhouse to play with and rearrange the furniture in. Someday, I will have an old haunted dollhouse. Even if I’m 80.