perchance to dream

My sleeping habits are no secret. Toss and turn for a few hours, start to drop off into deep sleep about dawn, and if left undisturbed, sleep blissfully until noon. This doesn't work in today's world for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I have responsibilities. If I were awake and being productive until dawn, that would be one thing. But that's not the case, of course.

Tonight I'm going to try some medication my doctor has prescribed for me. Her thinking is that a two-week course of this might make all the difference to break the pattern. I need to enlist hobbitt's help in this, since he's going to have to wake me up.

I'll keep you posted.

In other news, today would have been my grandmother's 124th birthday. She's been gone for 40 years. I can still hear her voice, and feel her cool dry fingers on my face. I miss her.

dagnabit!

Wishing a happy birthday to my one-and-only, hobbitt.

I love you! I do!

And you know this is how much of a dork I am. I went to the supermarket to get greens for our lunch salad. Remembered that my younger brother and sister turn 49 on Thursday. Picked up birthday cards for them. When I got home, and while you were unpacking the grocery bags, you handed the cards to me saying, "I probably shouldn't look at these."

Did you notice my "deer in the headlights" look?

Yep. Me. Dork. Love me anyway?

something amazing

So all you have to do is scroll down a bit to see that I've been having some issues lately. Big ones. It's tiresome and familiar. I want to be done with that but I'm not sure brain chemistry is subject to my will. And on top of that I tend to think of myself as a weak person.

But something amazing happened this weekend. It was part "hang out with people I love, indulge in very bad behavior, laugh my ass off and recharge my batteries" but there was much more. Many, many deep conversations with folks who have both physical and mood issues paid off in profound and subtle ways.

One of my friends, a very active person, has been relegated to a wheelchair for the most part. We talked a bit about what it's like to make such an adjustment - my issue being two bad knees as well as the abuse I heap upon them by being as large as I am - and her attitude was simple: Yep. It sucks. And I'm dealing with it, and it's okay. What's my option? It wouldn't occur to her to wallow in self-pity. Life's way too short for that.

Many of the conversations I had not only with her but with a few others centered around what I call "attachment to suffering." I was hearing my friends talk about their trials and tribulations, and listening to the stories they were telling themselves. Not so different, at all, from the story I've been telling myself.

I don't want to tell myself that story. That story sucks.

So here goes. My parents loved me the best they could. There is no doubt in my heart about that. And yet, what I needed from them was something else. And guess what? I'm a big enough girl now to know where to get that kind of love, acceptance and approval. Like I did this weekend. In spades.

I'm done with fretting about what I have to do, and instead will strive to simply do it. Procrastination hasn't won me any awards or accolades. Instead, what I reap from it is self-loathing and anxiety. And I want to do that why?

Same with poor choices in food and beverage. And exercise. And socializing, or rather the lack thereof.

In 1994 I faced a big fear - my mortality. With that gun to my head, I changed my life around completely, effortlessly, and with the help of loving friends. Every choice I made back then reflected a simple goal: health and healing. I told myself that every day. And I lived it. That wasn't the work of a weak person.

Moving to New Joy Sea was the hardest thing I'd ever done. Yes, it was harder, emotionally, than dealing with cancer. And while I was packing up my house to get it ready for sale, my little sister was diagnosed with cancer. I think we can agree this was a wee bit stressful. But I stepped up to the plate, saw her through surgery, returned home to finish the packing, and when we sold, I took off alone to find our next home.

I had 850 miles to tell myself a happy story. My mantra then was "I'm going to find the perfect home. There will be no snags. It's going to be smooth sailing. And I'll be back near my family! How cool is that!" And it worked!

Suffice it to say that shit happened, obstacles were overcome, and the force was with me. It took focus and determination and it all worked out just fine. That wasn't the work of a weak person.

Now, had I told myself another story, it could have been a gut-wrenching nightmare, even though the same events would have occurred.

I tell myself all the time that nothing in this world exists that wasn't first a thought. I tell myself all the time that energy follows intention, I've even proven to myself that it's true. Why am I not listening to myself? I know everything I need to know to walk in the world with integrity, peace, and power.

Right now I don't know the answer to why I indulge in those old, tired, suffering stories of myself. And frankly I don't really care about the why all that much. From here, I'm going to get busy living. Make choices that serve my highest good, not my sorriest weaknesses. Do what's in front of me, the way my beloved husband does. I so admire him for it - I always have. I'm going to do what will make me feel good about myself - not just something that will make me feel good. I'm going to open my heart to those folks around me who are suffering, with the hopes that they will see even just a little bit of light for themselves.

I'm going to be better than all right. And most importantly, I'm going to be in closer touch with those wonderful friends who showed me the way, whether they knew it or not, this past weekend.

fyi

Thank you, my friends, for worrying about me. Here's why you can put that to rest:

A few times in my life I've experienced the "wow, this would be easy to end" syndrome. Every time I've known it was appropriate to immediately talk to my doctor.

I'm not prepared to even begin to think about ending my life. Not on my list of things to do, as long as I'm healthy and in full possession of my faculties.

Yet, when those thoughts arise, it's appointment time.

Doc Mel is not just an excellent physician, but also my dear friend, who also suffers from depression. I'm in good hands. And I'm happy to ask for help.

So, I'll be here for a while yet. Thanks for taking the ride with me.

FYI

Where have I been? Vancouver, Chicago. Off to Lexington next week.

And in-between? Stuggling with a very dark depression, and doing mega-mailings for the new grant program our local Master Gardeners Foundation has begun.

Mostly I'm okay. No worries. I'm sure I'll be back to this soon enough. When I have something to say, that is.

Carry on!

engineering

I bought a new bra today.

This is noteworthy for two reasons. First, I haven't worn anything but sports bras in more than a decade. The uni-boob look works for me, since I'm so lopsided since surgery. Think left = C and right = DD.

Second, I haven't bought a bra, any bra, in almost that long. Dammit but these sports bras are indestructible!

So I got fitted and tried on some high-tech big girl bras. May I say holy sweet shit?!? My boobs haven't been this close to my face in a long time (see above). Nor have they been so far in front of me, other than while floating in a hot tub, for that same length of time. I believe they will enter a room a few seconds before the rest of me arrives.

The difference between them is still noticeable. Same as with the sports bras, which don't have such obvious lift and thrust. However, the bra I bought has some pockets inside the cups, and little air bags ("bubbles") that can be placed here and there to correct for such things as I have going on. Not that they really need it, since the cups seem to have a life of their own. I could carry a small purse in the void left on the left. Maybe I will. Or an ice bag. I'll be in Chicago, after all. It will be close to 90 degrees.

So I'm still going to look lopsided, but I'll also be wearing a colorful kimono, which should provide some cover in that regard. Also, I'm not the bride. All eyes will be on her, which is as it should be.

I'm bringing my trusty sports bra with me to the reception. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to wear such an amazing piece of engineering, or how long I can stand having my breasts within my field of vision every stinking minute.

I'll keep you posted.

oh YEAH, spa day!

I was in hot,warm or cool water, or lounging in a hot room, or a warm room, or a cool room, or a sauna, or a steam room, for about six hours today.

I had my entire body scrubbed, in a way that it probably hasn't been scrubbed since, well, forever, for almost an hour.

I got purty toes now.

I had a delicious Korean meal.

I spent a long relaxing day with some old and some new friends, took about seven showers, and just generally enjoyed being naked and at home in my own skin.

Among us we had one mastectomy, one lumpectomy, stretch marks, Caesarian scars, a plethora of old and new tattoos, and the entire gamut of curves and sags and flaws and assets.

Women - all of us, regardless of our scars or stories - are beautiful. And that means me too.

spa day

Tomorrow I'm spending the day with my friend M and her school chum S, as well as M's office manager B to spend a day at a Korean women's day spa, voted some time back in Seattle as "best place to get naked with your girlfriends."

I plan on a full-day nap in a warm room. Okay, no fun, but what the hey? My weekend was amazing. We visited dear friends in North Vancouver BC on Friday night and then traveled to Bowen Island for Saturday afternoon and evening. Our hosts are amazing people and "wined and dined" nine extra folks effortlessly and with great love and care.

Somehow, I managed to sleep approximately not at all.

Hence, my napping tomorrow.

Stay tuned.

puppies

Fathers Day

My dad was a prince. Funny, sweet, loving. Not perfect, by any means, and not much of a friend to his only son when my brother John needed it most, but there you have it. Worked hard, loved us, provided.

Loved my mother until the day he died, like sweethearts. Gotta love that. Adored his grandchildren. Knew he wouldn't live to see them grow up.

Told me in the vestibule of the church before my first wedding: "You don't have to do this." Knew Mom would kill me if I didn't, did it anyway. Shoulda listened to Dad.

Held his hand the whole night before he died. Watched him leave us forever. Kept my promise to take care of Mom.

Never forgot what it felt like to be loved and protected like that. Never will.