In the middle of my depressions, sometimes, an uplifting thought comes to mind. I've always said I'll write them down and never do. Maybe if I write them here I'll be able to keep the positive thoughts on record. So, here is my today's thought.
I keep worrying about all the bridges I've burned. It's as if I were ridding on a train, sitting on a seat that faces the traveled road, the past, with so many bad experiences.
I need to move, to sit facing the road ahead, so I can see all the other bridges, lots of them, that I haven't burned yet.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Social Life at School
Reading mountainmama’s description of her social interactions at school during her teenage years, reminded me of what it was like for me.
What’s interesting is how different we were, and how the net result was so similar. I, too, didn’t have close girlfriends. I too felt isolated. I too have few good memories of it.
But in my case, it wasn’t because I was shy or trying too hard to make friends. In my case it was because I was a real Bitch, yes, with a capital B.
I already had an alpha male personality. I was like a boy, an obnoxious one. For instance, when I got a good mark on a test or assignment, I rubbed it in. I told anyone who would hear me that I’d done well. I wish somebody would have told me that people had feelings that got hurt by my behaviour, but nobody in my life was that wise. An argument could easily be made that I treated other people callously because that’s how I was treated at home.
When my girlfriends had a crush on what I considered a worthless boy, I would tell them so. And I would go on to list all the boy’s shortcomings. I was imitating my mother. In her eyes, most men were worthless, and every time someone she knew fell in love, she would point out he guy’s disadvantages. I didn’t know then how horrible doing that was. It was judgmental and cruel. No wonder the girls didn’t like me.
I was also weird, too, in that I was interested in stuff other kids my age weren’t, like politics. I was in grade 5 and already had an opinion about the president and the opposition. Everybody found out my opinion, too, since I would go around talking about it, caring little whether they were interested or not. I was imitating my mother in this, too. She had very strong opinions that she expressed to anyone who would hear her.
But I did want to be liked, so sometimes I was compelled to help others with homework or to pass answers during exams, so they would like me. But they just used me. They still couldn’t stand me.
I wasn’t entirely alone, though. The boys were there for me (not during recess, unfortunately). I was the boys’ best friend. We talked about soccer and other sports. We talked about music. It didn’t offend them that I was a show off. Some of them even thought I was cool.
Being close to the boys earned me a few girlfriends, who wanted to hang out with me to get to the opposite sex. That part was good, too, even though I knew I was being used.
It does seem that I was disliked for good reasons. Brits would say that it was bad breeding, and they would be right. I simply was taught no manners or compassion or ways to get alone with others.
The sad part is that bad breeding is difficult to shake off. Even now, in my mid forties, when an acquaintance tells me she’s in love with someone I consider below her, I think my face shows the disagreement. Even if my words aren’t nosy and judgmental, it does seem that my body language shows my true feelings, and my interlocutors are able to pick up the negative vibes.
For almost any circumstance, it is difficult to come up with something to say when you weren’t taught as a child. Living among people from another culture multiplies the problem many times over. More often than not, when faced with awkward situations, I have no idea what to say, and end up putting my foot in my mouth. I usually fail to fulfill expectations, because I lack a repertoire of proper, socially acceptable, neutral answers that would not offend or put the other person down.
Worse yet, many women expect to be comforted with sweet words and a hug. I don’t have that stuff in my repertoire. I never received that kind of comfort as a child, or ever. I would have to be a trained actor to play that role. It’s completely foreign to me. When I try to behave that way, I feel silly, stupid, awkward, inadequate, and more.
So, I am in my mid-forties and married, and the guys are still my best friends. But I can’t go to the movies with them or have them as my confidents. That probably accounts for my loneliness and depression. I can’t have male friends, and when it comes to friends, they’re my only choice. Bingo!
It is perfectly possible that being able to interact with guys is my strongest, yet unconscious, motivation for wanting back in the workforce, where harmless inter-gender friendships can easily be had. Guys usually have skin thick enough to deal with a badly bred, opinionated chick like me.
What’s interesting is how different we were, and how the net result was so similar. I, too, didn’t have close girlfriends. I too felt isolated. I too have few good memories of it.
But in my case, it wasn’t because I was shy or trying too hard to make friends. In my case it was because I was a real Bitch, yes, with a capital B.
I already had an alpha male personality. I was like a boy, an obnoxious one. For instance, when I got a good mark on a test or assignment, I rubbed it in. I told anyone who would hear me that I’d done well. I wish somebody would have told me that people had feelings that got hurt by my behaviour, but nobody in my life was that wise. An argument could easily be made that I treated other people callously because that’s how I was treated at home.
When my girlfriends had a crush on what I considered a worthless boy, I would tell them so. And I would go on to list all the boy’s shortcomings. I was imitating my mother. In her eyes, most men were worthless, and every time someone she knew fell in love, she would point out he guy’s disadvantages. I didn’t know then how horrible doing that was. It was judgmental and cruel. No wonder the girls didn’t like me.
I was also weird, too, in that I was interested in stuff other kids my age weren’t, like politics. I was in grade 5 and already had an opinion about the president and the opposition. Everybody found out my opinion, too, since I would go around talking about it, caring little whether they were interested or not. I was imitating my mother in this, too. She had very strong opinions that she expressed to anyone who would hear her.
But I did want to be liked, so sometimes I was compelled to help others with homework or to pass answers during exams, so they would like me. But they just used me. They still couldn’t stand me.
I wasn’t entirely alone, though. The boys were there for me (not during recess, unfortunately). I was the boys’ best friend. We talked about soccer and other sports. We talked about music. It didn’t offend them that I was a show off. Some of them even thought I was cool.
Being close to the boys earned me a few girlfriends, who wanted to hang out with me to get to the opposite sex. That part was good, too, even though I knew I was being used.
It does seem that I was disliked for good reasons. Brits would say that it was bad breeding, and they would be right. I simply was taught no manners or compassion or ways to get alone with others.
The sad part is that bad breeding is difficult to shake off. Even now, in my mid forties, when an acquaintance tells me she’s in love with someone I consider below her, I think my face shows the disagreement. Even if my words aren’t nosy and judgmental, it does seem that my body language shows my true feelings, and my interlocutors are able to pick up the negative vibes.
For almost any circumstance, it is difficult to come up with something to say when you weren’t taught as a child. Living among people from another culture multiplies the problem many times over. More often than not, when faced with awkward situations, I have no idea what to say, and end up putting my foot in my mouth. I usually fail to fulfill expectations, because I lack a repertoire of proper, socially acceptable, neutral answers that would not offend or put the other person down.
Worse yet, many women expect to be comforted with sweet words and a hug. I don’t have that stuff in my repertoire. I never received that kind of comfort as a child, or ever. I would have to be a trained actor to play that role. It’s completely foreign to me. When I try to behave that way, I feel silly, stupid, awkward, inadequate, and more.
So, I am in my mid-forties and married, and the guys are still my best friends. But I can’t go to the movies with them or have them as my confidents. That probably accounts for my loneliness and depression. I can’t have male friends, and when it comes to friends, they’re my only choice. Bingo!
It is perfectly possible that being able to interact with guys is my strongest, yet unconscious, motivation for wanting back in the workforce, where harmless inter-gender friendships can easily be had. Guys usually have skin thick enough to deal with a badly bred, opinionated chick like me.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Love Happens
My husband is away this weekend. He went to visit relatives in Alberta for four days. So, yes, I’m alone again. Completely alone.
His absence coincided with another bout of profound depression, brought about by my recent streak of illness. I feel like I want to be out there and do stuff, but I can’t. And I go back to thinking that, perhaps, I am being childish and weak and should tough it out like everyone else.
Depressed and all, on Saturday, I went out on my weekly grocery-shopping trip. I started with the discount organic store, where I buy organic yogurt and soymilk for a dollar or two.
Then I bought my veggies and fruits at my favourite Chinese store, where I can buy exotic tropical fruits and vegetables. Then I went to a waterfront village, to buy fish from the fisher people (I eat fish). I bought a large supply, brought it home, cut it into one-serving pieces, and put it in the freezer. I should have enough fish for many meals, while my husband eats fish, pork, or beef.
That snapped me out of the depression a bit. Doing stuff is usually better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself, especially on a wonderful sunny Fall day.
This evening, Sunday night, I went for sushi and then to the movies. The movie was Love Happens. I expected to watch a romantic chick flick, but it was a tale about a motivational speaker helping people who have undergone great loses.
It was very good for my little heart. I heard phrases and ideas that are healing for a depressive chick like me. I’m truly glad I went. It wasn’t a typical look-good, shallow Hollywood film. It was deep, and I enjoyed it. That the actor was so easy on the eyes didn’t hurt one bit.
I’m still sad. There is a sadness to me that I haven’t been able to shake off for years. But perhaps that’s me, and I need to learn to live with that sad person, since there isn’t very much I can do about it.
I’m glad I took myself out. I should do it more often.
Oh, by the way, the Japanese food was terrible. I was going to go for Indian but I missed it by mistake and didn't want to drive back in the rain.
His absence coincided with another bout of profound depression, brought about by my recent streak of illness. I feel like I want to be out there and do stuff, but I can’t. And I go back to thinking that, perhaps, I am being childish and weak and should tough it out like everyone else.
Depressed and all, on Saturday, I went out on my weekly grocery-shopping trip. I started with the discount organic store, where I buy organic yogurt and soymilk for a dollar or two.
Then I bought my veggies and fruits at my favourite Chinese store, where I can buy exotic tropical fruits and vegetables. Then I went to a waterfront village, to buy fish from the fisher people (I eat fish). I bought a large supply, brought it home, cut it into one-serving pieces, and put it in the freezer. I should have enough fish for many meals, while my husband eats fish, pork, or beef.
That snapped me out of the depression a bit. Doing stuff is usually better than sitting around feeling sorry for myself, especially on a wonderful sunny Fall day.
This evening, Sunday night, I went for sushi and then to the movies. The movie was Love Happens. I expected to watch a romantic chick flick, but it was a tale about a motivational speaker helping people who have undergone great loses.
It was very good for my little heart. I heard phrases and ideas that are healing for a depressive chick like me. I’m truly glad I went. It wasn’t a typical look-good, shallow Hollywood film. It was deep, and I enjoyed it. That the actor was so easy on the eyes didn’t hurt one bit.
I’m still sad. There is a sadness to me that I haven’t been able to shake off for years. But perhaps that’s me, and I need to learn to live with that sad person, since there isn’t very much I can do about it.
I’m glad I took myself out. I should do it more often.
Oh, by the way, the Japanese food was terrible. I was going to go for Indian but I missed it by mistake and didn't want to drive back in the rain.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Control Study
I spent the weekend at a curling tournament, watching the best curlers in the world. All for $25. I couldn't believe my luck.
But doing that meant eating take out. And I ate lots of it, including plenty of flour-made products, like muffins, sandwiches, and what not.
Sure enough, the sinus infection is back, and I even think I have a fever. My entire body hurts, I have a sore throat, and my glands are swollen. Also, the intestinal problems are back, as in lots of trips to the bathroom.
That means that I have to live for the rest of my life eating no bread or pastries of any kind. Pork, beef, and lamb have the same effect, so fish, vegetables, and fruit should be my diet.
And there isn't even a God to get mad at.
But doing that meant eating take out. And I ate lots of it, including plenty of flour-made products, like muffins, sandwiches, and what not.
Sure enough, the sinus infection is back, and I even think I have a fever. My entire body hurts, I have a sore throat, and my glands are swollen. Also, the intestinal problems are back, as in lots of trips to the bathroom.
That means that I have to live for the rest of my life eating no bread or pastries of any kind. Pork, beef, and lamb have the same effect, so fish, vegetables, and fruit should be my diet.
And there isn't even a God to get mad at.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Misery
I've been feeling miserable for a couple of days. Ever since I started linking in with former co-workers on linkedin.com.
There are several reasons why that makes me miserable.
It reminds me of the horrible person I used to be, and that I can sometimes be, when I turn into my mother. I know all those co-workers know how good I was technically, but they also remember how intolerant and difficult to work with I was. I can only hope they feel sorry for me. It was that bad. We were friendly when we were co-workers, but my inferiority complex when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially those in my past, is alive and well.
I know I have to forgive myself, and I have. But I can't expect that other people are going to forgive me, too.
It also makes me miserable to see that even those co-workers who were under-performers are out there with a career in technology, and I'm not. It is very hard to swallow.
But, even though I feel terrible, I think it's a good thing that social media gives me the change to sneak my nose out there and see where everyone is and what they're doing. Imagine that! In the past, when we lost touch with former acquaintances, our chances of finding them again were minimal, unless we kept in touch.
Nowadays, you can go to linkedin.com, search by name, and there they are. You can know where they've been working since you saw them last, and what they're doing right now. If I hadn't been so hard to work with, that would be a mine of contacts for me. I could probably get myself a job on the spot. But that isn't the case. My business manners were bad, and now I have to live with it.
I think it is healthy to face reality and process all those memories. It takes me to a place of acceptance. I can acknowledge that I was a real bitch, and look at reality straight on the face. All these years I've been locked in the house because I didn't want to see that face. It was easier to hide. But now I am out there.
I was also embarrassed that they would find out what kind of a loser I had turned out to be. But the truth is out there now. I can't hide anymore.
So yes, I am miserable these days. The pariah complex is back to haunt me, and I have to live with it, bravely so.
It reminds me of the time I sent a letter to a gentleman confessing my love for him. He said he didn't feel the same way. But the next time I saw him, I had to walk by him with my chin up. About six months later, I met my lovely husband.
Career wise, I am trying to talk nicely to myself. I am saying, "That was the first half of your life, now you can be different in the second half. You don't need those people who know your past to start a new life, other than using a couple of the nicest ones as references. Use this challenge as motivation to get out there and reclaim your career."
I really can use the motivation. Up to a couple of weeks ago, the motivation was that my husband was going to lose his job. I can't use that one anymore. Maybe I can tell myself that I need to get out there and make some new, positive contacts that I can look to, in the future, proudly.
Right now, my eyes are dry but my heart bleeds. It bleeds from a lifetime of ruined relationships and opportunities. I'm going to believe that there is another opportunity out there for me. I have to believe. I have no choice.
I just hope that my body will hold up. This is a lot to handle.
There are several reasons why that makes me miserable.
It reminds me of the horrible person I used to be, and that I can sometimes be, when I turn into my mother. I know all those co-workers know how good I was technically, but they also remember how intolerant and difficult to work with I was. I can only hope they feel sorry for me. It was that bad. We were friendly when we were co-workers, but my inferiority complex when it comes to interpersonal relationships, especially those in my past, is alive and well.
I know I have to forgive myself, and I have. But I can't expect that other people are going to forgive me, too.
It also makes me miserable to see that even those co-workers who were under-performers are out there with a career in technology, and I'm not. It is very hard to swallow.
But, even though I feel terrible, I think it's a good thing that social media gives me the change to sneak my nose out there and see where everyone is and what they're doing. Imagine that! In the past, when we lost touch with former acquaintances, our chances of finding them again were minimal, unless we kept in touch.
Nowadays, you can go to linkedin.com, search by name, and there they are. You can know where they've been working since you saw them last, and what they're doing right now. If I hadn't been so hard to work with, that would be a mine of contacts for me. I could probably get myself a job on the spot. But that isn't the case. My business manners were bad, and now I have to live with it.
I think it is healthy to face reality and process all those memories. It takes me to a place of acceptance. I can acknowledge that I was a real bitch, and look at reality straight on the face. All these years I've been locked in the house because I didn't want to see that face. It was easier to hide. But now I am out there.
I was also embarrassed that they would find out what kind of a loser I had turned out to be. But the truth is out there now. I can't hide anymore.
So yes, I am miserable these days. The pariah complex is back to haunt me, and I have to live with it, bravely so.
It reminds me of the time I sent a letter to a gentleman confessing my love for him. He said he didn't feel the same way. But the next time I saw him, I had to walk by him with my chin up. About six months later, I met my lovely husband.
Career wise, I am trying to talk nicely to myself. I am saying, "That was the first half of your life, now you can be different in the second half. You don't need those people who know your past to start a new life, other than using a couple of the nicest ones as references. Use this challenge as motivation to get out there and reclaim your career."
I really can use the motivation. Up to a couple of weeks ago, the motivation was that my husband was going to lose his job. I can't use that one anymore. Maybe I can tell myself that I need to get out there and make some new, positive contacts that I can look to, in the future, proudly.
Right now, my eyes are dry but my heart bleeds. It bleeds from a lifetime of ruined relationships and opportunities. I'm going to believe that there is another opportunity out there for me. I have to believe. I have no choice.
I just hope that my body will hold up. This is a lot to handle.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Health bits and stuff
I noticed recently that I always forget the “tricks” I came up with the last time I was really sick, so I’ve decided to write them down.
When I had the sinus infection, I completely forgot that washing my sinuses with saline using a syringe is tremendously effective. I would’ve saved lots of pain if I had remembered.
The humidifier is great, too, but I don’t like to “steam” the furniture, so I had to sleep in the guest room with all the stuff covered with blankets. It wasn’t fun at all. The bed there isn’t nearly as comfy as our bed, plus my man hates to sleep alone.
I had a good excuse for ending up at the ER when I had that horrible stomachache. After all, I wasn’t home. Had I been home, I would’ve made tea of fennel seeds, cumin seeds, ginger, and lemon. It would have cured me in a snap.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a trick for lower back pain, but I have noticed that walking slowly helps. Like I told my husband last night, the problem for me is bending down. If I do it too much, then I hurt my lower back, and once I’ve done it, I shouldn’t sit too long.
I need to keep moving, gingerly so. That’s what I do in the morning, upon getting up, when I’m sore the most. I just move slowly for a little while. It really helps.
I am feeling a bit better today, thank goodness. Only my lower back is hurting a bit.
But I am mentally preparing myself for a weekend alone. My husband is going to his parents for Thanksgiving. He’ll be gone from Friday to Monday. I’ll miss him a lot. But I prefer to miss him that to come back emotionally wounded from being around my M-I-L for that long. She’s one of those people with a nasty personality. Her words and mannerisms hurt even when she is trying to be nice.
I’ll find something to do. I need to refresh my Javascript and PHP so I can include them on my resume, anyway. My job options are becoming clear to me. Getting out there really helps, as much as I hate it.
Yesterday, I went to a local bloggers meeting. I was surprised to learn that it was a combined get together to celebrate the launching of a free newspaper in the area. So I got to the pub and found lots of people standing up and talking. Not knowing anyone, I stood there for a few minutes. I think I had an anxiety attack, feeling stupid to have gone all the way downtown for that.
I am not the kind of person who enjoys loud parties full of strangers. I like small quiet parties. So, I decided to go home after about three minutes. But at the elevator, I met the person who had invited me. I went back to the party and stayed for about 30 minutes, talked to a total of six people, collected a couple of business cards, and left.
I told myself that I will not put myself through that for too long. A few minutes is OK to start, as I get better, I may stay longer.
The purpose of being there was to find out if I can work in social media and other technologies, but if I have to endure social gatherings like that one constantly to make connections, I may want to think of something else. I like quiet. Few people. Space to think. Noise isn’t for me.
Anyway, thanks for listening.
When I had the sinus infection, I completely forgot that washing my sinuses with saline using a syringe is tremendously effective. I would’ve saved lots of pain if I had remembered.
The humidifier is great, too, but I don’t like to “steam” the furniture, so I had to sleep in the guest room with all the stuff covered with blankets. It wasn’t fun at all. The bed there isn’t nearly as comfy as our bed, plus my man hates to sleep alone.
I had a good excuse for ending up at the ER when I had that horrible stomachache. After all, I wasn’t home. Had I been home, I would’ve made tea of fennel seeds, cumin seeds, ginger, and lemon. It would have cured me in a snap.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a trick for lower back pain, but I have noticed that walking slowly helps. Like I told my husband last night, the problem for me is bending down. If I do it too much, then I hurt my lower back, and once I’ve done it, I shouldn’t sit too long.
I need to keep moving, gingerly so. That’s what I do in the morning, upon getting up, when I’m sore the most. I just move slowly for a little while. It really helps.
I am feeling a bit better today, thank goodness. Only my lower back is hurting a bit.
But I am mentally preparing myself for a weekend alone. My husband is going to his parents for Thanksgiving. He’ll be gone from Friday to Monday. I’ll miss him a lot. But I prefer to miss him that to come back emotionally wounded from being around my M-I-L for that long. She’s one of those people with a nasty personality. Her words and mannerisms hurt even when she is trying to be nice.
I’ll find something to do. I need to refresh my Javascript and PHP so I can include them on my resume, anyway. My job options are becoming clear to me. Getting out there really helps, as much as I hate it.
Yesterday, I went to a local bloggers meeting. I was surprised to learn that it was a combined get together to celebrate the launching of a free newspaper in the area. So I got to the pub and found lots of people standing up and talking. Not knowing anyone, I stood there for a few minutes. I think I had an anxiety attack, feeling stupid to have gone all the way downtown for that.
I am not the kind of person who enjoys loud parties full of strangers. I like small quiet parties. So, I decided to go home after about three minutes. But at the elevator, I met the person who had invited me. I went back to the party and stayed for about 30 minutes, talked to a total of six people, collected a couple of business cards, and left.
I told myself that I will not put myself through that for too long. A few minutes is OK to start, as I get better, I may stay longer.
The purpose of being there was to find out if I can work in social media and other technologies, but if I have to endure social gatherings like that one constantly to make connections, I may want to think of something else. I like quiet. Few people. Space to think. Noise isn’t for me.
Anyway, thanks for listening.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Sick. Again?
I am sick again, and I can’t believe it. I honestly can’t. What on earth is wrong with me?
About three weeks ago, I was disabled by a brutal sinus infection. Then, last Saturday, husband and I worked on the shed. He is making it bigger. So I helped, screwing boards, nailing shingles on the roof, carrying stuff, etc. After 12 hours of that, I was dead tired. I told him that I felt like an Israelite in Egypt, and that he was the slave driver.
Early on Sunday we headed to Victoria, BC, to a British Museum exhibit. It was awesome, because it had a little bit of several cultures through time, up to the present. There was a replica of the Rosetta stone. I will write something on the other blog about aha moments I had while going through the exhibit.
That night, at about midnight, I woke up with abdominal pain, suffered in silence for two hours, and then woke my husband up and asked him to take me to the ER. Shaking in pain, I even had trouble talking and putting my clothes on.
We finally left, and just before arriving at the hospital, I threw up. After that, the pain faded slowly, and since the ER was busy, we headed back to the hotel after a few hours, having never seen a Dr. So, I don’t know what happened.
Thursday night (yesterday), I was picking up stuff off the floor in the bathroom, and when I stood up, my lower back hurt like crazy. I could hardly walk. But I went to the gym anyway. I figured that the steam room, the hot tub, and the swimming pool would cure me. They didn’t.
It was hard to sleep last night, because turning over and getting up hurt. It felt (still does) as if I was carrying a back of rocks on my lower back.
Being sick continually for three-to-four weeks is extremely frustrating. I was happy yesterday, because I was able to catch up with housework. I baked two loaves of bread and one cake, made ice cream, cleaned the kitchen (it is reasonably large), and did the laundry.
I put in a few hours of moderate work, and I get injured. How frustrating that feels is hard to put into words. It sends me back to the reason I haven’t made an effort to find work all these years. I am always getting sick with something.
Is it possible at all that deep down inside I don’t want to be out there in the world struggling to earn a living like every one else? Am I unconsciously making myself sick?
I doubt it. I want to be healthy so bad that, for the last three months, I’ve become a vegetarian. I’ve been eating my fruit and my vegetables and doing everything in my power to feel better. But I am not feeling better. I’m feeling worse.
It’s so frustrating that I’ve been thinking that I will surrender my fibroid-filled uterus to the knife, hoping that it is some fibroid which is pressing a nerve and causing the pain. Women who have gone through the change already don’t know how good they have it.
In the last two-or-three days, I’ve gone back to feeling sorry for myself. Most careers don’t appeal to me, and I just want to stay home and away from people.
Professionals I’ve been having information interviews with tell me that the way to get into any field is via networking. I’m supposed to be out there talking to all kinds of people telling them what I can do, and I don’t feel like doing that at all.
Is there a career that suits depression-prone people? I think there is: computer programming. Maybe I was in the right career all along. Maybe I should go back to that. But Husband was surprised to hear me say that. He knows how much I love writing.
Maybe just maybe, I will rest my thoughts for a week and see how I feel then. I shouldn’t be trying to make decisions when my spine hurts from top to bottom, my lower back is sore from hip to hip, and my feet and my arms hurt for whatever reason.
It just occurred to me that maybe I should see a doctor. Trouble is that I don’t trust them, but I will go tomorrow anyway. At least whatever I’m feeling will be on record, and perhaps they can eventually put the puzzle together and tell me what is wrong with me.
But, I always decide to go to the doctor at night and change my mind in the morning. Let’s see what mood the morning finds me in.
About three weeks ago, I was disabled by a brutal sinus infection. Then, last Saturday, husband and I worked on the shed. He is making it bigger. So I helped, screwing boards, nailing shingles on the roof, carrying stuff, etc. After 12 hours of that, I was dead tired. I told him that I felt like an Israelite in Egypt, and that he was the slave driver.
Early on Sunday we headed to Victoria, BC, to a British Museum exhibit. It was awesome, because it had a little bit of several cultures through time, up to the present. There was a replica of the Rosetta stone. I will write something on the other blog about aha moments I had while going through the exhibit.
That night, at about midnight, I woke up with abdominal pain, suffered in silence for two hours, and then woke my husband up and asked him to take me to the ER. Shaking in pain, I even had trouble talking and putting my clothes on.
We finally left, and just before arriving at the hospital, I threw up. After that, the pain faded slowly, and since the ER was busy, we headed back to the hotel after a few hours, having never seen a Dr. So, I don’t know what happened.
Thursday night (yesterday), I was picking up stuff off the floor in the bathroom, and when I stood up, my lower back hurt like crazy. I could hardly walk. But I went to the gym anyway. I figured that the steam room, the hot tub, and the swimming pool would cure me. They didn’t.
It was hard to sleep last night, because turning over and getting up hurt. It felt (still does) as if I was carrying a back of rocks on my lower back.
Being sick continually for three-to-four weeks is extremely frustrating. I was happy yesterday, because I was able to catch up with housework. I baked two loaves of bread and one cake, made ice cream, cleaned the kitchen (it is reasonably large), and did the laundry.
I put in a few hours of moderate work, and I get injured. How frustrating that feels is hard to put into words. It sends me back to the reason I haven’t made an effort to find work all these years. I am always getting sick with something.
Is it possible at all that deep down inside I don’t want to be out there in the world struggling to earn a living like every one else? Am I unconsciously making myself sick?
I doubt it. I want to be healthy so bad that, for the last three months, I’ve become a vegetarian. I’ve been eating my fruit and my vegetables and doing everything in my power to feel better. But I am not feeling better. I’m feeling worse.
It’s so frustrating that I’ve been thinking that I will surrender my fibroid-filled uterus to the knife, hoping that it is some fibroid which is pressing a nerve and causing the pain. Women who have gone through the change already don’t know how good they have it.
In the last two-or-three days, I’ve gone back to feeling sorry for myself. Most careers don’t appeal to me, and I just want to stay home and away from people.
Professionals I’ve been having information interviews with tell me that the way to get into any field is via networking. I’m supposed to be out there talking to all kinds of people telling them what I can do, and I don’t feel like doing that at all.
Is there a career that suits depression-prone people? I think there is: computer programming. Maybe I was in the right career all along. Maybe I should go back to that. But Husband was surprised to hear me say that. He knows how much I love writing.
Maybe just maybe, I will rest my thoughts for a week and see how I feel then. I shouldn’t be trying to make decisions when my spine hurts from top to bottom, my lower back is sore from hip to hip, and my feet and my arms hurt for whatever reason.
It just occurred to me that maybe I should see a doctor. Trouble is that I don’t trust them, but I will go tomorrow anyway. At least whatever I’m feeling will be on record, and perhaps they can eventually put the puzzle together and tell me what is wrong with me.
But, I always decide to go to the doctor at night and change my mind in the morning. Let’s see what mood the morning finds me in.
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