Thirteen Ways to Happiness & Wishin' and Hopin' by Wally Lamb

I was going to write about this study I read about the other day. Children that grow up in homes with violence end up with the same types of brain responses as soldiers in a war environment. I remember my therapist told me about that and I sort of believed it but was also skeptical. How could I compare what happened to me to that of a soldier in combat? Well...there it was, all true. The thing is, I also didn't want to write about it. It depressed me.

I liked this article much better and it fit in nicely with the Thursday Thirteen theme. See, I waver between feeling up and positive to feeling depressed and negative. It's a battle to stay upbeat but I find if I can do it a couple of days in a row, I can get a momentum going and keep at least an even keel for a while.

The article talks about what happy people do differently to stay happy. There was a list of 12 things and then I added one:

Thirteen Ways to Happiness

1. "Express Gratitude". Even if the only thing you can say is you have a roof over your head and food in your belly, this helps. I think about the things I do have when times are rough--like now, with the spending Christmas season. Things could be a lot worse.

2. "Cultivate Optimism". This is something my therapist was trying out with me. It involves saying things like, things aren't going so well but they can get better.
Or they will get better.

3. "Avoid over-thinking and social comparison". In other words, instead of worrying about the Joneses' just focus on yourself. So I'll just not concern myself with all the lights and decorations everyone else seems to have.

4. "Practice acts of kindness." This is a good one. I've done lots of these and it really is true--it gets that feel-good serotonin flowing.

5. "Nurture social relationships." This is a little harder for me to practice except on the internet. I never did make any friendships here in NJ mostly because it just seems like I have to say good bye to people I've made close friends with in the two states I lived in before, MD and NY. I try to attend to my internet friendships though. I've found some of my closest friends online.

6. "Develop strategies for coping". Ah, well, this is a skill I learned as a child when there were all sorts of crisis and chaos going on around me. I would come up with a Plan A, B, C, D, and E. If one failed, I'd turn to another.

7. "Learn to forgive". That's come with age. It's not something I could do when I was younger and filled with righteous anger. Over the years, the anger's tempered and I've learned a lot about how people behave and think.

8. "Increase flow experiences". Well, that's something I need to work on. I can get into the flow when I'm writing but haven't been able to focus recently. If I developed a hobby I enjoyed I could get into the flow too.

9. "Savor life's joys". Ah, yes, like spending the day with Little T or watching a snowstorm from the safety of my home or the sun coming up over the ocean.

10. "Commit to your goals". This is another one I need to work on. I feel adrift because I don't really have any goals other than getting through each and every day.

11. "Practice Spirituality". We do that, praying several times a day.

12. "Take Care of Your Body." I could improve in this area. I could exercise more regularly and watch what I eat. I could make sure I get to doctors for regular check-ups and preventative tests like mammograms and stuff.

13. Keep your sense of humor. This my own addition. I think if I didn't have a sense of humor (albeit a dark one sometimes) I would have lost my mind already. When I laugh, I feel those feel-good endorphins flowing around.

Last night, I finished reading a book called Wishin and Hopin by Wally Lamb, one of my favorite authors. The book was funny and sweet, focusing on 10 year old Felix Funicello, his family, friends, and school teachers. I saw it marketed in the book club as a Christmas book. I wouldn't have called it that although Christmas is in it. So are Halloween and Thanksgiving. It's more a coming of age story and Felix reminded me of Ralphie, the kid from A Christmas Story. I also got a kick out of the book because it was like a walk down memory lane--the way people dressed and talked, the TV shows they watched, and how simple everything used to be. Families ate together instead of apart. It was a fast, entertaining read and I'm glad to add it to my Wally Lamb collection!

Thursday Thirteen Random Thoughts on Friday

I meant to post this yesterday using the meme format but I just never got the time to sit down and do it. I'll get to that in a minute.

1. So Bank of Satan, I mean, Bank of America, is thinking about dropping the idea to charge all its customers $5 a month for using debit cards. They say it's because of all the feedback from their customers. Ha. I'd like to think it has something to do with November 5 switch-from-a-corporate-bank-to-a-credit-union day. I heard some of these other banks that were jumping on board with BOA are also reconsidering. Thank you. How much money did we spend on bailing out BOA and other banks again? They're making nice profits and what do they want to do? Squeeze more money from all of us!

2. And don't get me started on those obscene bonuses executives of other corporations bailed out are receiving!

3. Part of the reason I didn't get to blog was because TB and I were busy going to Walmart and Lowe's to get a couple of things for the craft show on November 12. This venture is costing us. It's not expensive if you've got it but we're using money that would go to other stuff. TB needed things like lemon oil, sand paper, cash box, queen size sheets ... Yes, queen size sheets. I think we're going to borrow them from his mom. They're to cover the table from top down to the floor. The lady running the event said she uses queen size sheets so it should be good.

4. I'm seeing "Blithe Spirit" with Kristin on Saturday night. She's treating me, which is really nice. She's taking drama this semester and one of the requirements is that students have to take in a play. It's been quite a while since I've seen a play...maybe almost two years. Tickets for non-students is only $10 so Bill wanted to join us. I'm looking forward to this!

5. I'm relieved that Dr. Greenbaum was pleased with how TB's doing after his most recent appointment. The abdominal wall infection cleared up and the seepage from the incision slowed down considerably!

6. We're having a hard time remembering to finger stick first thing in the morning! Our sugars have been running over 100 lately so the doctor wants us to test for two weeks before deciding what else to do. After testing several times a day for years, you'd think this would be old hat to us but I guess two years of freedom from it all has totally erased all the old habits. If we forget to get the fasting level, we go for an hour after the meal. I'm kind of bummed that the levels have been above normal.

7. Another reason I didn't have time for blogging is I had a therapy appointment. She thinks I am depressed again. Really? I think it's situational. Yes, I'm stressed. There's a lot going on. I don't think there's a pill for that. I take a nap to escape the stress.

8. Christmas decorations in October? If you looked, you could see them lurking in the background. The Halloween decorations barely came down before the Christmas ones went up. Does anyone else get depressed about this stuff? I mean, what about Thanksgiving? Can't the stores wait until "Black Friday" weekend to start all this commercialism? The arrival of Santa at malls was traditionally after Thanksgiving. Now it could be anytime in November. I was in the middle of filling out this survey for B101, a radio station in my area, and they want to know when did I want to start listening to Christmas music? Now? November 15? After Thanksgiving? I was about to say after Thanksgiving but then I thought if I have to be subjected to all this other crap now, why not enjoy the music? Holiday music does lighten my mood considerably.

9. Now I'm rating Christmas songs for B101. There sure are a lot! It doesn't seem like they all get played because in past years if feels like I just hear the same ones over and over.

10. Kristin's taking ASL 101 this semester and it's fun to practice with her. Her signs are nice and clear and her face is very expressive. I'm glad I can help her practice. She's doing very well in this class.

11. I'm still working on that Christmas song survey for B101. I wonder if they'll pay attention to my results? I wonder if anyone else had the patience to sit there and rate all those songs?

12. Why does trying to find the best insurance plan/a doctor have to be so darn difficult? We're still trying to figure out our medicare options, waiting for the information about the insurance companies to come in the mail. Also: Kristin was on the phone for about an hour trying to find doctors that would take her insurance. We'd first called the insurance company and they passed us off to the "preferred provider", whatever the hell that means. The preferred provider at least was more helpful. The representative got on the phone with the gynecologist's office and finally got them to understand who they were. The doctor's office then agreed to make an appointment for Kristin. As for the other doctor, well, we struck out and so the rep is doing a search among nurse practitioners to find an appropriate doctor. Don't ask me why nurse practitioners are doing this. I have no clue.

13. I don't think there's an end to this Christmas song list on B101. I'll probably be here tomorrow too! ;)

Our Hospital Visit & PTSD Work

I saw this quiz on Facebook and decided to try it. Here are my results:

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Personality Disorder:	Low
Schizoid Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Schizotypal Personality Disorder:	Low
Antisocial Personality Disorder:	Low
Borderline Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Histrionic Personality Disorder:	Low
Narcissistic Personality Disorder:	Low
Avoidant Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Dependent Personality Disorder:	Moderate
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info --

So it's nice to know I'm just moderately nuts in some areas! I'm surprised there was nothing for anxiety and depression. Those are the areas my diagnoses lie. Anyway...

Starting backwards, today I got up and was off and running almost right away. TB wasn't bleeding and was in relative comfort so I took Kristin to school and then went for my therapy appointment. For the last month, I've been working a program used by the military to diminish symptoms of PTSD. I've never been to war but it seems I have PTSD from growing up in another kind of war zone, the home of two alcoholic angry deaf adults.

One thing I've been working on is called "stuck points". They are areas where I've given myself an incorrect message because of something that happened to me. An example is when my mom found my writing, read it, and went all ballistic all over me. That's the incident. The message I tell myself, writing is bad; writing is not safe. The feeling is shame. There are hundreds of these "stuck points". Another one is where my parents were fighting and beating on each other. In terror, my brother and I ran from the house to our neighbor's. What I told myself is that I should have been able to stop the fight and didn't; I ran away instead. The feel is inadequacy.

With that example, my therapist wanted to know what I would tell the younger me. I thought about it and said I would say I'd done the best I could and it wasn't right that I should be put in that position. The therapist pointed out something I wasn't aware of. She said my affect was that of an orator and that I was disconnected from what happened. She said through all this, she's never seen me cry. She seemed surprised.

I told her there's no point in crying. It doesn't change anything and all you get for it is swollen eyes, hitching breath and a stuffy nose. She wondered when was the last time I cried and I can't remember. I'm sure it was after Rich died but then after that--say the last 5 years--I just have no clue.

The therapist thinks I've got repression going on, a defense mechanism to protect myself against painful feelings. That doesn't surprise me. I know I can detach from my feelings very easily. I also have a wall up that no one gets through. Will any of this change? After all, I'm 56 years old and have been using these defenses my whole life. Still, I have to try.

I would like to feel whole. I've often heard Dr. Phil tell parents that if they fight in front of their kids or abuse them or expose them to bad things, it changes the child forever. It's true. My brother and I were forever changed.

TB's surgery was a success! The procedure was done at the same hospital where we had our duodenal switches, Lourdes Medical Center. We really are impressed with this hospital and continue to be in spite of the mix-up in what time we were supposed to report. TB originally had an appointment with his orthopedic doctor in the morning because surgery was to be in the afternoon. However, we were told initially to report at 9 and so he had to cancel his appointment. Then they called back after it was too late and said oops, surgery is in the afternoon, come in at 11.

I had an up and down experience with the cafeteria. I went in at 11 to get a cup of coffee and found the door was locked. The vending machines outside didn't have coffee so I checked the time to see when I could come back. As I was doing that, the manager of the place saw me and said although the place was closed for half an hour, I could wait there. "Could I buy a cup of coffee?" I wondered. She smiled and said, "You can HAVE a cup of coffee." Ah! What a nice person. After TB went up for surgery I returned for a bite to it. There were no prices listed anywhere and no grilled cheese so I took a chance on a single slice of pizza and an iced tea to mix my protein with. It cost me just under five dollars!!!! For those two bitty things! Yikes, I felt like I was on Jersey Turnpike! So they got back they money for that first coffee. ;)

Dr. David Greenbaum did the surgery so we knew TB would be in good hands. Dr. Greenbaum also did our duodenal switches. He called me in the waiting room to tell me everything had gone well and TB would be back downstairs for me to see him in about an hour. Because TB missed his appointment with the orthopedic doctor, Dr. Greenbaum refilled his script for one of his pain medications.

So TB is holding up pretty well. His next big adventure is getting his tooth pulled on Saturday.

Which bright lights decided this?

Way back when, I'd asked our Medicare Part D counselor about dental insurance since Medicare didn't cover it. He answered that getting dental insurance was way expensive and it would be cheaper just to pay out of pocket. Maybe he's was right then but we sure need the insurance now. I called Medicare to find out if they'd cover Ted's broken tooth since it's now an emergency and they said no.

I next called our secondary. Sometimes when the primary doesn't cover a service, the secondary will pick it up. That's when I discovered the dismaying news that the secondary is not allowed to. If it's not covered by Medicare, none of the secondaries can pick it up. I asked why and the representative could only tell me that's what the people in Washington decided.

Sure. These are the same people who enjoy full coverage of any type.

It makes no sense to exclude dental and vision from the elderly and the disabled. All of us need cavities filled or teeth pulled or root canaled or what have you. When a tooth goes bad and becomes infected, that infection can spread to the heart. That would lead to an emergency room visit and probably a hospital stay, maybe even death, and sure that's more costly than providing for routine visits so it never gets to that point. As for glasses, what's up with that? The older you are the more likely you are to need glasses. What are fixed income people supposed to do if there's no generous Lion's Club in the neighborhood? Drive around half blind? I guess so.

Hearing aids aren't covered either. As we get older, our hearing diminishes. TB is already pretty much deaf in both ears. Luckily he got hearing aids before he became totally disabled. I guess everyone else just has to take ASL classes. :P

If I ever get to the Take Over Philly protest, my signs would be about health insurance reform. I would like to see President Obama's original health bill passed but I think that will never happen unless there's a major rising. The Take Over movement has the right idea but they're not focused. Everyone's protesting different things and there's no real unity. People are just fed up with everything but I don't know that change can come of something that generic. :P

Update

I've been absent for nearly a month, for many reasons. One has been a sort of "brain freeze" for writing. There's been a certain blahness and sameness to the day-in day-out stuff and the pains of financial struggles. I do want to get back into blogging more regularly though and thought to start out with an update.

Poor Cubby developed a horrendous infection in his tail. We're not sure how it happened but suspect that Munchkin may have scratched or bitten him. We didn't realize anything was wrong until the infection had progressed so far the vet thought Cubby might lose part of his tail! TB and I had him isolated in the office to keep him away from the rest of the gang. We were applying medication to his tail and giving him oral antibiotics. We had compresses on his tail to help the infection drain. We sat with him a lot to keep him company and so that he wouldn't knock off the compresses or worry his tail. Well, it all paid off because he's healed beautifully and didn't lose his expressive tail!

I was in a great deal of pain one day and ended up going to the emergency room with TB. It turns out I had a kidney infection. I had a cat scan of my kidneys and there might be an adenoma on the left side. I also seem to have a hiatal hernia which isn't really bothering me. Anyway, I'm seeing a kidney specialist about the adenoma later this month.

TB's in more pain than ever because he has this cracked tooth that has exposed the pulp. I persuaded him to go to the doctor for an antibiotic while he waited for a dental appointment. It's true he should have gone to the dentist when it first cracked but, he told me, it didn't hurt and we didn't have the money for the appointment. We don't have dental coverage. Now, though, it's become critical and so we called for the earliest appointment. It's today. Also today, TB's seeing the kidney specialist because he's got a lot of protein in his urine. It could be damage from the diabetes he'd had for so many years ... or maybe he's just taking in too much protein.

I was doing more chauffeuring than usual in the last 2 weeks due to broken down cars and what have you. No one can afford to get a car fixed, including TB and me. Luckily the car trouble Heidi had seemed to be related to a disconnected hose and was easily fixed.

I started working with my therapist on PTSD issues and my writing. I'm hoping this 12 week program helps. So far I'm not noticing a difference.

Here are the two memories that most interfere with my writing:

When I was a little kid--maybe 2nd grade--I wrote this story about a couple of kids, a talking black-eyed Susan and a magic flying carpet. Apparently my teacher submitted it to a local paper and they published it in their Sunday magazine. My teacher told me about it and I went home proudly and told my mom. She didn't believe me and got really angry with me, calling me a liar. No one would publish one of my stories in the paper! I felt confused and ashamed and scared. The next day, the teacher wanted to know what my family thought and I told her they didn't believe me. She gave me the magazine to show my mother. My mom apologized but it was sort of too late. I already doubted whether or not I could really write.

The other memory is from when I was about 12. I would hide my writings in my desk. I came home from school one day to find my mother holding my notebook in her hand, spitting fire and rage in her eyes. I'd been writing about a family with an "evil" stepmother and apparently my mom recognized herself. I didn't think I'd intended to write a story about my mother and actually remember very little about it except denying frantically that the stepmother was my mother. It didn't feel safe to write anymore and that's when most of the freeze started.

Sometimes I have strong bursts of inspiration and I have to write. I had one of these bursts ten years ago, when I wrote some fan fiction. Other times I've had some inspiration but it's but rare and far between. I know I can do it, though, because I took a creative writing class and, under the pressure of a deadline, I was able to produce.

The rest of the time, though, I'm just filled with doubts and self-recrimination.

Well, with this therapy, I'm supposed to read the memories over every day to lessen the impact. I also pick out different incidents, write down what happened, what I tell myself, and what I think as a result of all of it.

I thought about tracking my progress over the remaining weeks of therapy. I guess we'll see if I follow through with it!

When medication quits working

A big part of my arsenal in my "war" with depression is the medication. The other part is self talk and support but when the medication fails, sometimes the other things aren't enough. I noticed I wasn't feeling very well over the winter months but I figured that was just all the stress that's always there.

As soon as the spring semester started, I immediately felt overwhelmed and tired or sleepy all the time. I didn't look forward to going to classes and two of them most related to my education major! I looked at all the work that was expected and wondered if I could do it. TB was so encouraging and supportive. I didn't feel reassured however.

I felt dread about going to class. I felt sad and overwhelmed and all I wanted to do was just stay in bed. Luckily I'd learned some of the self talk over the years to cope with a bout of depression and I just kept getting up. I also talked to my doctor about what was going on and told him I felt so overwhelmed I just wanted to quit.

He said my anti-depressant must have stopped working and wanted to add another, wellbutrin. He said it worked on a different receptor than the Prozac and hopefully the two together would work to make me feel better. I figured I'd give it a try. One of the psychiatrists I saw over the years explained that my depression is biological and that the medication for it is like insulin for diabetes.

Now what I'd say to myself was, it takes a month for the medication to kick in. Just keep going until then I'd also tell myself see how your grades are after the midterm and then decide. Well, I got all A's so poor grades was not going to be a reason to quit! TB was also still encouraging and supporting me so I struggled through some tough weeks but stuck it out.

Not long after the midterms, my mood began to lighten up and I didn't feel so wrung out and hopeless. The medication finally started working. I made it to the end of the semester and am so glad I hung in and didn't quit. The struggle was worth it.

The long road to graduation

I did it! I finally graduated on May 21, 2011. It only took some thirty odd years! :D

I didn't go to college when I graduated high school in 1973. I was under the impression my parents couldn't afford to help me out and I didn't qualify for financial aid nor did I win any scholarships. I decided I would work and save up the money to go. We all know how that goes. ;)

Almost two years later, I was going to a church for the Deaf and the pastor there took an interest in me, deciding I really should be in college. There was a big crisis between my parents and I left home. I rented myself an apartment in the city but was only there a few months when the pastor decided I should move in with him, his wife and mother.

The pastor wanted me to go to school so I reapplied for financial aid and to the local university. This time, I got the aid and it was enough to pay for my tuition and books. It was a new, intimidating and totally confusing experience for me to go down and try to make a schedule. When I was done, though, I felt great.

About a month into this, the pastor was accused of misappropriating funds. He plotted a counterattack against the treasure, making up a bunch of lies to spread around. I happened to overhear and was horrified. The pastor tried justifying it all to me and I just kept saying, "But it's not true!" I felt totally betrayed--this was a man of God trying to destroy the reputation of another based on lies. The pastor called me a Judas and I knew I had to get out of there.

I probably could have rented myself a room and continued on but I spiralled into this depression, hurt, angry, disillusioned and sad. I just stopped going to classes. First I lived with a roommate in Baltimore City and went to work. I was offered a better job in Washington D.C. My parents were living nearby and asked me to join them so I could save more money for college. I agreed but that was a mistake.

By 1978, I'd saved enough money to take a couple of classes and reapplied to the same university (different campus). I enjoyed the classes so much! I was into the second year when my mom went on a drunken rampage and chased me from the apartment with an ice pick. That was in the middle of a semester and instead of renting a room somewhere and muddling through, I just sort of collapsed and became depressed again.

Then I started again in 1994. By then, I was married to a wonderful man and had my three beautiful children. Rich encouraged me to try again and so I did. I almost finished, too. I was stymied by geometry and an unexpected move to New York. Once we got to New York, I figured I could finish up somewhere...but Rich died. The early bouts with depression was a tap dance compared to the way I felt then. I've learned that fibromyalgia can develop from trauma and I am sure that's when my symptoms started.

Fast forward to 2010. I never thought I would ever find love again but a miracle occurred and I met and married TB. When I started talking about finishing my degree, he was completely supportive and has been there for me throughout. I had another bout of depression this spring and he is one of the reasons I didn't give up and drop out again.

So on May 21, I graduated with an AA in education, with "highest honors"--a GPA of 3.9 overall in all those classes over the years. It feels good to be able to say "I did it!"

Snowy Saturday

I remember the weather forecasters last fall said something to the effect that we would have a *cold* winter but not a snowy one. Huh? In two weeks we've had three events and another one predicted for next week. Granted, the amounts have been nothing like they were last year. That first storm (on December 26) dumped two feet on us. Yesterday's snow brought a couple of inches and today we're expecting another 4-6. I hope that's all because clearing the snow has become a big issue for us!

This morning TB and I took Buddy for a walk as the snow was getting underway. It sure is pretty when it's falling. We went back to where the woods are but didn't go in. We'd have to cross a log bridge to get anyway and that would have been a little risky for us because I'm sure the log would be slippery.

I took this picture of Cubby and Indigo in our bedroom window this morning before we left for our walk. I had the flash on but the picture came out really dark.

It was especially good for me to go on a walk because I've been struggling with depression again. I look at some of the things I need to do and feel overwhelmed. I think about writing something but then can't seem to find my focus. I think stress and worry are getting to me. When I don't get things done, I get mad at myself--the old all or nothing type of thinking I still struggle with. I think I need to exercise and find things to do that will distract me. The internet doesn't hold my attention anymore so it'll have to be something else. Meantime, I'll look for free things for TB and me to do to help keep me busy.

I need "3 On Your Side"

Something like this is happening to us:

The number of homeowners in the Obama administration's flagship foreclosure prevention program is growing, but it's not all good news. As 3-On Your Side's Jim Donovan reports, many applicants sit for months in limbo, awaiting final answers from their banks.

Adrienne Ervin has lived in her Drexel Hill home with her son and daughter for nine years. She tells us that she was working non-stop and had a great job with great pay until things suddenly changed in 2009. That's when Adrienne was laid off from her job. Unable to pay her mortgage, she reached out to her lender, Bank of America, for help.

After several months, the bank agreed to modify Adrienne's loan. They lowered her interest rate, gave her a new payment, and also gave her 60 days before she was to begin making payments.

But then, without warning, Adrienne says, "They took it back and said they approved me for the wrong kind of mortgage."

So it was back to square one.

Adrienne says, "I sent my pay stubs about 20 times, I've sent my utility bills, my bank account statements, everything they asked for."

Then one day the Sheriff came by to tell her that foreclosure proceedings had started.

The rest of the article is here.

I feel like we're in the Twilight Zone with The Bank From Hell, Bank of America. I've been misled, put into the wrong mortgage program, run in circles, and been outright lied to since November. I don't believe a single word any of them say to me anymore, especially now that I've learned they give false names and false information to get you off the phone.

They say banks want to help. Don't believe it any more. I think this is just something they say and they're just as happy to foreclose on people. Why else would the situation be like this with so many run around in circles by the same bank. When we were dealing with the company before BOA (Taylor Bean Whittaker), everything was spit spot and on the ball. Unfortunately that company apparently got itself into trouble and sold all their accounts to BOA.

I think BOA would like to dump any of these customers, including us.

I contacted consumer reporter Jim Donovan, who has the "3 On Your Side" series. I mean, I left a message for him. He helped the lady in this article. Wouldn't that be awesome if he could help us?

Right now, I'm stressed and depressed. I feel pretty hopeless but I'm trying not to. I'm trying to see things could still work out.

Things on my mind this morning

I've been feeling anxious on and off since yesterday morning. I worry about things, about stuff I can control and stuff I can't. I have to review and practice again things I'd learned years ago: "let go and let God" and "take it easy" among a couple of them. When I was in the hospital, I asked for a book that I could write in. It was really helpful because I noticed I could get a lot of emotion out by pressing hard with the pencil if I needed to. I brought the book home and one of my goals today is to write in it again, especially when I feel anxious. I want to go for a walk, too, because that will release endorphins to help me feel better. I wanted to go to church but TB is feeling sick and I'm not feeling strong enough to go by myself. I mean, I don't think I can handle everyone asking, "How're you all doing?" and "How's your mom?" They don't know what happened.

One thing I "forgot" especially was to put it all in God's Hands. I'm scared to drive over bridges--I have severe panic attacks. So what I've been doing to get over is to say, "God, I can't do this. Please take the wheel for me." And He does and He holds the wheel and the car goes across the bridge. I was talking to Anthony (another patient) about these negative looping thoughts we get into that just keep spiralling around and around. He was reading a book by Norman Vincent Peale and he was trying to learn from it. I asked, what do you do then? And he said, he prays. Wow, I thought. Why didn't I remember that? Just as I'd prayed to God to help me over the bridge, I could have been praying to God to help me with this. Why did I forget that or not think to apply that to this situation?

I've also forgotten to work the steps. I am one of those who fell away from working on my recovery. I'm fine, I told myself. I can deal with it all. I'd been dealing with it very well--stress and life's issues, I mean. Then BAM! This happens. Why? Well, one reason is that obviously I'm not well. I'm not fully recovered. It's a lifelong process, not something that goes away just because the issues aren't in my face anymore. Before I embarked on any of this, I should have worked the steps. One thing I've been doing since I got out of the hospital is checking out the CoDA (Codependents Anonymous) and ACOA (adult children of alcoholics) online groups. I was aware of them before but I never took the time to really focus on them.

I'm going to read and re-read. My MIL gave me a gift that will really come in handy right now. It's called Where Do I Find It In the Bible and it's a resource guide grouping topics so I can find the verses I need quickly. I also found books from the two 12-step websites that I've already requested from our library. My priority needs to be focusing on recovery.

When I used to go to ACOA meetings, the twelve steps were exactly the same as the AA steps. When I checked out the two websites, however, I saw that the steps--at least the first one--had been adapted to fit specific needs of CoDA and ACOA. I'm not sure if I more fit one or the other or both but here's the twelve from ACOA and I'm going to start working on these:

1. We admitted we were powerless over the effects of alcoholism or other family dysfunction, that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand God.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory
of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to our selves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and
became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and, when we were wrong, promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve
our conscious contact with God, as we understand God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry it out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others who still suffer, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

ACOA has a 12 step workbook. I'd like to get that when we have a little more money. I think it would help. Meanwhile, reading the books from the library and taking notes on them and going to online meetings will help me.

I made a list of things I want to do today and I wanted to keep it manageable so I just put a couple things down there. Many are easy to accomplish: read, nap, go for a walk. Right now, I've accomplished one of my goals of the day, too--blogging how I feel. No more secrets.

Home from the hospital

This is not an easy post for me to write but I'm not ashamed, just at a loss for words.

TB and I went voluntarily to the hospital ER Tuesday morning after I started to have an emotional breakdown at the therapist's office. I don't remember *a lot* of what happened that day. I remember saying that I wanted to break glass with my fists and I had an urge to take a broken piece of glass and cut my arms. I remember I said I didn't want to die but I wanted to escape from the pain and desperation I was feeling. I wanted to take a bottle of my valium so that I could relax and not feel what I was feeling. Susan called it passive suicidal thoughts and she's right. I don't know if I would have gone through with it because I've had these feelings before when I was a teenager and when I've felt trapped and I never did anything. Still, the situation at home was getting so bad maybe I would have acted this time.

And so Susan and Dr. Layne said I was at risk and needed to go to the ER.

I was admitted and I stayed in the psych ward until last night. TB and Bill came to pick me up. They'd just come back from returning my mom to Maryland and so I was able to go home. I felt better last night but I still feel very fragile and anxious. It doesn't help that TB spent a lot of money on stuff we didn't exactly need right now and we're so tight financially. I couldn't get my meds today because there wasn't enough money. Luckily I have enough...and it turns out some of them had already been filled on Halloween. I guess I forgot the pharmacy was holding them.

So why did I have a meltdown? Well, it's complicated. It started with mom moving here. I thought that it was the right thing to do. I thought I was able to cope with all of that. Years ago, when I was married to Rich, I'd gone for counseling and to ACOA meetings. At that time my therapist said that my parents were toxic and that I needed to distance myself so I could get well. So I was distanced for 20 years while my brother was left to deal with it all. And when my dad died and I knew mom was coming to live with us, I was sure I could handle it. After all, I'd had all that counseling and years of distance and I thought I was okay.

It's really weird trying to understand all of this. On one hand, I think to myself: hey, it wasn't all that bad and mom is just a little old lady, unable to hurt anyone and she's just lost her husband. I figured she still had a lot of anger issues and it's so hard for an elderly person to lose a spouse and then get uprooted from home--even if she says that's what she wanted to do. I figured it was normal for her to be angry and resentful and to blame my brother and me for everything happening. She said we'd forced her out of her home, she wasn't comfortable with us, she wanted to be alone and not bothered with all these children nor having to share a bath and so on and so on. And she'd stay she was stuck because my brother didn't want to care for her--even though I'd explained until I was blue in the face that he *had* been taking care of her but wasn't able to run to her ever minute she wanted. She blamed my dad for almost everything and when she wasn't blaming him, she was blaming my brother. I think if I hadn't been there and my brother had, she would've blamed me for everything.

I tried to tell myself that this was just normal kvetching on the part of a bitter woman who'd lost her husband and was unable to take care of herself in her own home anymore. So I'm not understanding why I fell apart like I did, knowing all these things. I just know that her anger and hostility against my brother and my father and yes, even me, started to freak me out. She'd get "that look" on her face and go off and suddenly it was like it'd been when I was a kid and so scared of her rage. How stupid is that? I'm 55 years old for crying out loud!

And it wasn't ever going to stop. The first time it happened I let it go. The second time, I wrote her a note and said I was sorry she was so unhappy and that she ought to go back to MD since her trailer hadn't sold yet. She'd say no, she was stuck here now because she couldn't afford to go back. I didn't get that at all because she's got quite a bit of money in her account. But old people worry about that stuff, right? I wrote her that this was creating too much stress for me and she stopped, said she was sorry and "behaved" for a while. But then it began again. And she's been like that my whole life so I didn't see it would ever ever be different.

I would never be good enough, never do enough to make her happy, never make the right choices...it would always be wrong. My brother and I talked about it and he feels the same way. Nothing we do will ever be right or enough.

I wrote her another letter and I could see it was just going to be the same old thing. There were excuses and rationalizations for everything. Above all else, she maintained she couldn't go back even though she knew she'd be happier. I'd hear her door close as she'd come out to the main living area and I'd cringe, dreading having to talk to her or see her angry face. On Wednesday night, TB said he was scared because he saw me run through a gamut of emotions within a very short period of time--fear, anger, compassion and then fear again. I couldn't sit still. I scootched down in the chair so she wouldn't be able to see me if she came in. I stalked around the room in a rage. And I beat myself up for not being kinder to an old lady.

So we had an appointment with Susan Tuesday morning. It started out okay even though I felt stressed. When I started talking to Susan though, all the emotions I was feeling broke through and I couldn't shut myself up.

About smashing the glass and cutting: yes, I wanted to do it. I'd been thinking about it Wednesday night. I didn't want to die. I just wanted to escape and I felt so trapped and in such pain. I thought if I could just break the glass and cut myself I could release some of the rage and fear I was feeling. If I could just gulp the pills down my heart would stop pounding the way it was. And I just wanted to be honest when I answered Susan--she asked, "Are you thinking about hurting yourself?" And this time, instead of lying and saying, no, of course not, I blurted it all out.

I heard her and Dr. Layne saying I was at risk. I heard them saying that it was toxic at my house right now and that the thing to do would be to return my mother to MD as she wanted. And so Ted did, taking Bill along to help.

When I was in the hospital, one of the nurses said to me that I had to be prepared for my mom to be mad and to tell everyone what a horrible daughter I am--that I kicked her out. Well...it won't be in my face every single day. And it's not true. My brother and I wanted her to be safe. She said she wanted to live with me, that she couldn't manage on her own. TB was having surgeries and so we needed to move her in September. Now she says we forced and rushed her, that she should have stayed there, wish she'd stayed there, etc etc and so really, we were just doing what she wanted.

That's what I'm telling myself.

Guilt is an ugly monster though. I struggle. I tell myself this but I hear a little voice whispering, you are a bad, bad daughter.

Moved to a town that was right for me

Throughout the 1970s, I tried to break free of my parents. The first time was in 1974. My mother overdosed on sinequan and I tried to call the ambulance--but my dad hung up. He didn't want to be embarrassed, so I called the doctor. The doctor just said, "Get her up and walking. If she won't walk, you'll have to go to the ER."

My dad and I dragged my mother out of bed and began walking her around. Luckily either there weren't enough pills in the bottle or they just didn't affect my mother the way she thought they might. She began to wake up and eventually came to herself. By then, I was a nervous wreck.

I called the pastor of the Deaf church, told him what was going on and was relieved to hear him say, "Pack a bag and get the hell out of there. Come to the church."

I threw some clothes and all my journals into my suitcase. I told my mother I had to go away for a while. She nodded sadly and said she understood.

The pastor was surprised at how heavy the suitcase was. When he found out it was full of journals, he busted out laughing. Still they were of more value to me than anything else I owned. I stayed with the pastor, his wife and mother for the weekend and got some pretty intensive crisis counseling.

They found a place for me to stay. It was a boardinghouse run by the Methodist Church. I had a room of my own and shared the bathroom and eating facilities with all the other women. There was a couple of large rooms with TVs. Breakfast and dinner was included and I could easily afford it. I was happy!

My dad came down to try and talk me into moving back home and I said, no thanks.

That experience in the boarding house helped me break out of my shell. I made some casual friends and we'd go out to eat or to the movies. For the first time, I could sleep at night without feeling like I needed to be on guard for noises in the night which could be my parents drinking or fighting.

Eventually I saved enough money from my job and moved into an apartment with a co-worker. We began to socialize with other people at work and from the church. We had parties. That's when I began to drink and unfortunately, that did get to be out of control. Still, I felt free for the first time.

I was on my own for 3 years. Meanwhile, my parents moved from Baltimore to Laurel, which was closer to Washington DC where my dad worked. My brother had also moved out by then and my parents didn't see any point in staying in a big townhouse by themselves.

Then I was recommended by my boss (who became a good friend over the years) to the director of the National Center for Law & the Deaf in Washington DC. I would be making a lot more money and it was a big jump up for me. I decided to take it and reluctantly arranged to live with my parents until I could find my own place. Big mistake.

The night before I was to move, my mother showed up at the apartment. She was covered with bruises and said she'd left my father. One of the advantages (heh)of growing up the way I did was that I learned to think fast on my feet. I called my soon-to-be former boss and said I needed a place in Washington near Gallaudet--right away.

She had gone to Gallaudet for the masters program and so she knew A LOT of people. She hooked me up with two guys renting a house right across the street from the college who were looking for 2 roommates. So when I went to my new job, I was living in that new, strange house and I'd taken my mother and cat with me.

The two guys, involved in the drama department, were Deaf and gay and pretty cool. It looked like it would be all right.

And then my father found us a week later. First he showed up at my new job and I went to lunch with him to get rid of him. After work, he must have followed me home because the following day he came back and said everything was fine and my mom had gone "home" with him and that I was welcome to go too.

I was shocked and pissed. I drove to my parents' place after my dad went to work and found my mother lying on the couch. She could barely move and was having trouble breathing. What's wrong? I asked. She told me she'd fallen on the stairs at the new house. Living here would be safer because there were no stairs for her to fall on.

Uh. Right.

She looked terrible and I told her I was calling an ambulance. She argued with me but I did it anyway and off we went to the ER. The doctor told me my mother had some broken ribs and that one of them had punctured her lung. It was partially collapsed. My mother was being admitted to the ICU.

Well...I felt like I had to move back with them to protect my mother. If I was there, maybe I could prevent the violence.

So that time I lived with my parents two years.

One night my mother had been drinking and became totally irrational. That particular night, my brother and his best friend were there. They were staying for the weekend or something and she started off trying to pick a fight with them. They wisely left and went out and I retreated to my room and locked the door.

My mother opened the door with an ice pick and came in wielding it. Enough was too much and I ran out of the apartment. I drove to a friend's and stayed overnight.

At that point, I was finally getting counseling for the panic attacks I was suffering. I called the doctor and he made an emergency appointment to see me. When I told him what happened, he said I needed to convince my father to have my mother committed to the hospital.

Hmph. I already knew that wasn't going to happen. I also decided I needed to move out again. My temporary stay with my friend became six months until I could find my own place. Once again, it was a relief and a big burden off my shoulders when I moved out. Now I was working as an interpreter for the Deaf and made a whole new group of friends.

Things were great for 2 years and then my car engine seized at both ends. I couldn't get to work and couldn't pay any bills. My parents said, oh, we're buying a mobile home. Come and live with us, you'll save lots of money. You can use our car!

Again, big mistake. That was 1979 and I was totally miserable there. The panic attacks, which had abated, were back in full force and I was filled with rage. I began attending Al-Anon and ACOA (adult children of alcoholics) meetings.

In 1980, it was this song that moved me:

Funky Town by Lipps, Inc.

Gotta make a move to a
Town that's right for me
Town to keep me movin'
Keep me groovin' with some energy

Well, I talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about, Talk about
Talk about movin

Gotta move on
Gotta move on
Gotta move on

Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown

Gotta make a move to a
Town that's right for me
Town to keep me movin'
Keep me groovin' with some energy

Well, I talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about it
Talk about, Talk about
Talk about movin

Gotta move on
Gotta move on
Gotta move on

Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown
Won't you take me to
Funkytown


I had to get away or I would lose my mind.

My beloved grandmother died in May, 1980. We went to Long Island for the funeral and my mother and I stayed behind in Grandma's cottage to help my aunt and uncles sort through everything.

I was surrounded by my cousins, aunts and uncles again and hit with strong nostalgia for the town in which I'd grown up. I began to think of Long Island as my Funky Town. What if I just stayed? What if I didn't go back with my mother?

I approached my uncles. They wanted to sell my grandmother's cottage but needed to have it fixed up first. It was a buyer's market then and might stand empty awhile and they didn't like the idea. I suggested they rent it to me. What a great idea! Even better, my cousin saw this as an opportunity to become independent too and said she'd like to share the cottage with me.

Free at last, free at last, Thank God Almighty, I was free at last!

I did leave Long Island again--but not to go live with my parents! When I married my first husband, Rich, we realized we wouldn't be able to afford Long Island if we wanted both a house and family. And so we moved back to Maryland--at least an hour's drive from my parents! But that is another story.

Usually I like to keep it light and do some cat blogging on Fridays but I didn't have any new pictures or stories. I did find this, however. I wish I'd been at their wedding.

Defining Songs In My Life

I was going to do a Ten on Tuesday meme about 10 songs I hate and I'll get to that after this post. While I was thinking about the songs, I suddenly remembered those that had a big affect on me at different times in my life. I thought if I write about them it might give me some insight into what I was feeling as a kid and young adult.

I blocked a lot of feelings and memories from my 'tween years. Previous to that, I can remember being a pretty happy kid in spite of my mother's unpredictable rages. I lived on Long Island and all my family (except for one uncle) lived a short distance away. My grandmother was my hero and my protector when I was little. After we moved to Maryland, I lost that whole safety net. I've written about this before.

My parents began drinking and going to the Deaf social club. I was socially immature when I got to junior high. I was no longer a valued tomboy player of alley kickball or punch ball. I'd become everyone's goat. I was also coping with my parents' drinking, my mother's worsening rages, and becoming the family interpreter (even for things I didn't understand, like when our house was put into foreclosure). I was the one who broke the news to my parents of their parents' and siblings' deaths...three in one year.

Anyway, one day I heard this song on the radio and I was instantly riveted. It was 1966 and I was around 12. I thought, this is my song, this is how I feel. It was "I Am A Rock" by Simon and Garfunkel and these are the lyrics:

A winters day
In a deep and dark december;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Ive built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
Its laughter and its loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Dont talk of love,
But Ive heard the words before;
Its sleeping in my memory.
I wont disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

I realized somewhere in my soul that I was withdrawing myself and hiding behind a wall to protect myself from rejection and anger. I'd been betrayed by kids who used to be my friends one year and turned on me the next. As for love--well, I wasn't sure that my parents loved me. I know they needed me to interpret for them but I had the feeling I was a burden otherwise.

Loving my mom was scary. When she'd get really really mad, she might hit us or tear our rooms apart. Worst of all was when she'd announce she was sick of us and walk out on my younger brother and me. My brother and I would try to block her from leaving, begging her not to go, but she always pushed us aside and left for hours. She'd return just before my father would get home from work. My brother and I were too scared to tell what she'd done.

Many things have changed over the years of course. I have friends. I have and do love. But somewhere deep inside I'm still wearing armour and there's still a fortress that no one's been in. I'm not even sure I can get in there because I can't seem to unlock the door or take the walls down!

I'll keep going with this but for now, the

10 Songs That I Hate:

These songs are from around the same time as "I Am A Rock", give or take a few years. I don't really hate them (except for the first one) but I just never cared for them.

1. Honey by Bobby Goldsboro

2. Indian Giver by the 1910 Fruit Gum Company

3. Worst That Could Ever Happen by the Brooklyn Bridge

4. Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town Today by Kenny Rogers & the First Edition

5. Little Woman by Bobby Sherman

6. Jean by Oliver

7. Sugar, Sugar by the Archies

8. Dizzy by Tommy Roe

9. Crimson and Clover by Tommy James & the Shondells

10. Hooked on a Feeling by B.J. Thomas. I have to admit, though, that I really can't stand the remake by Blue Swede--although I do like the dancing baby!

What happened!?

This is both an update and an angry question.

Kennan called to tell us that Little T came home from his weekend visitation with a raised red hand print across his chest. Kennan saw it when he went to give the little guy a shower and took pictures. There's a really lame story from Linda about what happened and I am just furious and disgusted. I think I can guess what happened and it's not pretty!

Also, Heidi took the contract TB and I made up for her to Marianne's to read it over and think about what she wanted to do. She called me the next day and said she'd decided to move in with Marianne because there were just too many rules. She and Marianne came over in the afternoon and packed up a lot of her stuff.

Since they needed to borrow the van to move some of the furniture I decided to drive (with Bill along to help) so I could "meet the parents" and see where Heidi would be living.

Marianne's mother is very nice, born in Germany and moved here at some point. She said that she runs a 100% German household and that she and her husband read the contract and thought it was "the weirdest thing" she'd ever seen.

I was taken aback. I said, "This was something we had to do" and then stopped. I decided to let Marianne's parents think we are weird. Let's see if Heidi can change her behavior. I don't want to put any negative thoughts into Sonya's head so we just chatted pleasantly for a little while while the younger people unloaded the cars. Lord only knows what Heidi's told the parents about TB and me.

Marianne's father was arriving as Bill and I were leaving so I just shook hands with him and said hello, nice to meet you.

Over the weekend, it seems like the bottom's dropped out on me. I've been very depressed and crying. It's not just missing Heidi. I'm worried about our finances, feel like I'm trapped here in this house with the incredibly high mortgage and that we are always going to be in a hole. I worry that Bill is alone most of the time and seems to have no friends or social life. He says he likes it that way; I worry. Ted often doesn't feel well and sleeps a lot. Kristin is sort of closed to me. She doesn't confide in me except about very superficial things. Thank goodness I see my therapist tomorrow!

No Empty Nest Blues

TB and I are struggling with the blues today. It's not just the financial stuff. There's a lot of stuff going on.

Is 25 and 30 the new 18 and 21? I've heard of "empty nest syndrome"...parents missing their adult children who've moved out on their own or to college. I've also heard of the boomerang generation--adult kids who've been out for a while and then come home. Now there's this latest trend...adult children who don't leave home.

When Kristin ages out of social security in June 2010, TB and I won't be able to afford the mortgage on this house unless we both have good jobs. Maybe we will, by then. Who knows? But if things stay the way they are, we'd have to put the house on the market spring of 2010. I know we've talked about that in front of the kids before so imagine my surprise when Heidi went into freak out mode about it Monday.

It turned into a real drama. She was sure she'd never be able to save up to move out on her own because she had to give us "everything" she makes. She's going to be stuck working at Shop Rite the rest of her life and will have to live in her car.

Well, I tried reasoning with her. We went to DVR (Division of Vocational Rehabilitation) to get her some help and hopefully by then she'd be back in school and working at a different job, one that she enjoys. Heidi countered that the counselor emphasized counseling which she does not want--although she desperately needs it!

As for having to give us "everything", I suggested she buy her own car insurance, phone and food. And as for school, she dropped the ball on that one by not going to financial aid and seeing her counselor. She screamed, "You expect me to know how to do everything!"

But...I've already been to the college with her to pick a schedule and talk to counselors and told her to google for insurance--why doesn't she remember how to do that? Is it the bipolar or learned dependence?

TB says to me, "I feel doomed. We'll never be alone in our own home."

Is he right?

We said to Heidi and Bill that if we were to stay on in this big house, we'd need more income. Heidi freaked out again--oh no, she'd have to work two full time jobs, never go back to school and so on. Bill took it logically and said divided five ways, it could be done. He's right...but do we want to?

The kids don't respect our house. Their rooms are totally trashed and we've just learned to pick our battles and not fight over that. The biggest battle is keeping the mess from migrating downstairs. They don't keep either bathroom clean and it's embarrassing. The other day, TB went around the family room picking up dirty laundry hidden here and there. It's not like it gets accidentally left out. Hiding it shows they knew it was wrong. Getting them to help us with chores is an ordeal.

So...why would we want to stay in the big house? Yet it's a nice house and fixed up the way we like it.

We swing back and forth between wanting to stay and wanting to run away. It really is very depressing. :(

Cats on Tuesday: Twofer

Usually I've got one cat on my desk and one waiting on the arm chair to leap on as soon as the first one vacates....like right now. Mouse is on my desk and Amber is waiting, somewhat impatiently.

One day last week, though, I had both Mouse and Cubby. Usually when this happens one cat or the other will back down and jump off but not this time! I had a twofer on my desk! Two cats to pet in the space meant for one. Other than giving each other the evil fishy eye from time to time, they shared very nicely.

Yesterday I talked to my therapist about what happened yesterday morning and, really, what's been happening in recent days and weeks. Everything overwhelms me, from trying to answer all my email to straightening up my room to going to this training. The therapist helped put things into perspective for me: I've been through a lot.

We also agreed that it was time to start working on my specific issues--like anxiety--instead of week to week crisis management.

Before my first husband died, I wasn't exactly a social butterfly but I was definitely more outgoing. I tend to hide in my house and have been for the last couple of years. I used to write, fan fiction it was but still they were long stories with plots. I could do it again if I wasn't afraid. I used to work and was a good interpreter.

I don't like being a hermit and so fearful of everything. I worry about what people think of me when they see me. I worry my stuff is no good and I'm just wasting my time. I worry about panic attacks in public. I wonder what happened to my philosophy of let go and let God.

Anyway, the therapist suggested that this month I should try to heal. As for coping with the anxieties, she suggested making a list of a few things that I want to accomplish during the day--not a lot of things, just a couple.

One thing I wanted to accomplish was a Cats on Tuesday post. Another thing I want to accomplish is visiting people back. Another is to make an appointment for myself to see the eye doctor. Another is to straighten up a part of my room so it won't be so overwhelming. Baby steps.

Want more Cats on Tuesday? Be sure to check out Gattina's blog. Today is also Tuxie Tuesday and then there's Blogging Cat Noos for all the latest!

I'm hoping this is normal but...

I wasn't quite expecting this reaction to the good news. I expected to feel relieved and I am. I also expected to feel energized and upbeat but I'm not. I guess the stress was really at work on my body because I don't feel what I expected to feel after learning we'd be able to save the house and so on. I feel exhausted and drained, irritable and unable to focus. I thought I'd be posting cat pictures and blogging away happily, catching up on all the kind comments people have left for me.

Instead, I'm wondering why I don't feel better. Maybe I should take a nap.

Most people want to avoid having their vehicles re-po'd and I'm wondering when Toyota is going to get their act together and come get the car. We leased TB's car in 2005 and don't let anyone tell you that leasing is a great deal, it's not. But that's another story. We've been trying to give this freaking car back since January. By June of this year, we were telling Toyota look, we have no money, please just come get the car. And Toyota, inexplicably, was saying, we don't want to come get the car.

In the beginning of the month we got a letter from Toyota stating that if we didn't pay what we owed, they were going to break the lease July 17th. Good...they'd come get the car and we could stop worrying about it.

It's July 27 and they haven't come for the car. TB's taken everything out of it that was of any value to us anticipating that it would be towed away any day. I'm thinking we have to take it to the dealership and leave it there.

Now I'm going to take a nap. I'm going to be kind of myself and not put pressure on myself to feel something I don't feel or do something I'm not ready to do (like happy blogging). I'm hoping this feeling of blahness will pass soon.

More Bad News

Why are things so cruelly hard for the disabled? We got a letter from TB's union today that our health insurance was dropped. So he called to find out what's going on and the secretary said she didn't know he was disabled and so he'd be covered in full for a year. After that we thought we'd pay part of the premium like we did when TB was out for two years but no, we have to go with COBRA--at over $500 a month. This would be at the point where the temporary disability (a mere pittance) from the union is going to stop.

Obviously we wouldn't be able to do COBRA. Obviously we'd have to find some kind of coverage. TB has diabetes and so many other health conditions--he can't not have insurance. Maybe we would qualify for a state program. I know Kristin would under Family First New Jersey.

This is like being kicked over and over and over when we are already down and can barely get up. There's no good news, it's all just bad and getting worse.

I saw an episode of Cold Case the other day. A mother was driving around with her two daughters--they were living out of their car. I thought, yes, that could be us in just a few months. I don't know what we're going to do.

Exercising...or anything else...with depression

I got another one of those articles in my mailbox today. You know, one of those "just DO it" ones. This one addressed exercising when you are depressed. I wondered if the author knows anything about trying to do anything when you are depressed. The article just made me feel more depressed. I feel very inadequate.

I know I need to exercise. When I saw the title, I hoped that it was a miracle article, something that would have just the right words to help me get motivated. This is what it said.

When you're already depressed, exercising may be the last thing you want to do--even when you know it can help you. So how do you get started, when simple things like taking a shower, getting dressed in the morning, or doing the dishes seem like more than you can handle?

The answer is: Just do it! The issue here isn't whether or not you can muster up the willpower to make yourself exercise--it's about giving yourself a fair chance to see if it can actually help you.

Just do it? Thanks. How did I not think of that? I must be an idiot. No, seriously, I can't say how many days I've said to myself, just get up and do it and then felt totally drained of energy to the point of being unable to get up. Maybe that sounds ridiculous to some people but it really does happen. And then I bash myself for being unable to get up.

The article then goes on to suggest ways to get the most out of your exercise program.

1. I'm supposed to talk to the doctor. Yes, the guy who barely has fifteen minutes to talk to me. He's the one that's already in a hurry to get going and nods and says yes, yes, exercise would be beneficial, any exercise would be...like I'm some kind of dolt or something. And if I tell the doctor how hard it is to get going, yes, yes, I know, it's very hard, just do the best you can. Yeah, that helps.

2. I should find activities I enjoy. Well, I must be a witless wonder to need to be told this. Of course they have to be something I enjoy. If I didn't, why would I do them?

3. I should create a plan B ahead of time so that when I am unable to get up and move, I can put this second plan into effect. And what would plan B entail? Oh, it could be an exercise buddy (I don't have any friends nearby) or exercises I could do at home (they're the ones I'm trying to do in the first place).

4. I should plan for setbacks. Plan for them? I can't even get myself going. I'm already set back!

I guess I just sound like a whiny crybaby with this post. I can't seem to get my act together to do anything lately. I'm overwhelmed by simple chores like cleaning out the fridge or changing the kitty litter. I'm also overwhelmed by things I used to enjoy, like emailing and blogging. If I can't even do that things I enjoy, how am I ever going to get my mind around exercising?

Tuesday Sundries

I feel very restless, like I should be doing something important but I don't know what. Nothing really holds my attention for more than a few minutes at a time, not even reading. I feel as I did when I first quit smoking. My body is alternately tense and tired. I feel revved up and frustrated that I can't get anything accomplished. I sleep to get away from it all. I guess it's a combination of the stress, bipolar, and everything else going on in my life and I wish I could stop it. I just want to feel like me again.

Music Memoirs

Tuesday Tunes Week 40

Name the first musical thing ie artist/song/album etc that comes to mind when you see these words:

peace: All We Are Saying Is Give Peace A Chance
love: All YOu Need Is Love
sign: Signs
summer: Summer in the City
trip: San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)
book: Book Ends (by Simon & Garfunkel)
drug: With A Little Help From My Friends
simple: Simple Gifts (a Shaker song)
psychedelic: Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds
70s: disco

target="_blank">Ten on Tuesday

10 Favorite Movie Characters:

1. Elwood P. Dowd from Harvey
2. Rick Blaine from Casablanca
3. Indiana Jones
4. Forrest Gump
5. & 6. Norman & Ethel Thayer from On Golden Pond
7. Atticus Finch, To Kill A Mockingbird
8. John McClain, Die Hard series
9. & 10. Martin Riggs & Roger Murtagh, Lethal Weapon series