A Good Day

Not wishing to wait until next week, I saw a doctor today. He said that I’m peri-menopausal and that I am not pregnant. Excellent news! Now, I move on.

I also talked to him about my joint pain, and he diagnosed me with rotator cuff tendonitis. Maybe I can use that as a disability. Keep that in mind when you read further down, and that I saw the doctor after having gone to the government agency.

He wants me take some medication for a couple of weeks and to see a physical therapist. He said swimming would be good, too.

And yes, I saw an employment counselor, too. I had called that agency even though they work with people with disabilities, because they seemed to have a program for “normal” folks. But when I got there, the caseworker said that she was indeed a caseworker, but for people with disabilities.

“OK,” I said, “I’ll go home to find another agency.”

“Why would you do that,” she said, “if I can do that here, with you?”

“Because I can do it myself, online.”

Then she said, “Or I can help you, do you have any chronic pain or another issue that we can use as a disability to try to get you funding for training?”

Then she got my attention.

I said that, yes, I had chronic pain issues but that I hadn’t been diagnosed by a doctor. “But I do have a psychological disability,” I said.

Then I explained that I had trouble dealing with people and handling stress, due to my abusive upbringing, which combined with the culture, has made my working life in this country miserable.

She said, “OK, you have PTSD. I’ll write that on the papers, and I can work with you.”

“Maybe there is a god,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to have a disability sticker for my car.”

“Most of the disabilities we deal with, here, are invisible,” she said.

But why is this good news to me? Because she will work with me keeping my most difficult shortcomings in mind. She will be there every step of the way helping me figure out what type of job I can get that fits the person I am. Other employment programs assume that, if you have skills, you should be able to find a job and live happily ever after. Not so with me. There is a reason I haven’t wanted to work in several years.

Yes, I do have a handicap. And somehow I landed at a government-funded agency that helps people with handicaps like mine. It’s pleasantly bizarre, really.

Incredibly enough, seeing my issues as a handicap has given me more hope than ever. Maybe because I know that there is much better funding and opportunities for persons with disabilities, while at the same time, fewer people are looking for that sort of help, so counselors have more time and resources for the likes of me, who need hand holding. And some people wonder why I love this country so much!

Of course, if after looking for work for a while we conclude that I need a little re-training, we will have to get doctors and psychologists signatures, to prove that I have issues. It shouldn’t be hard to find 50 people or so to agree that I do.

Yes, it was a good day.

Being Myself

One thing I tried during this weekend with the in-laws was being myself.

I wasn't going to try to be a tame Canadian with perfect manners, speaking in cue, and being extremely polite. I was going to speak as loud as I wanted, be as emotional as I felt like it, as imprudent as I can be at this stage in life, and I wasn't going to feel guilty about it.

I did it.

I decided in advance that being myself was going to freak some people out, and that was going to show how narrow minded they were, not how improper I was.

I did it. And it worked at several levels.

When I feel free to be me, I am at ease, as in not torturing myself with unreasonable demands. I am, therefore, happier, in a better mood, and find it easier to take people I dislike.

For instance, my husband has a cousin who is self-centered with a strong character. She reminds me of the high school beauties/bullies. The sort of gal who expects everyone to adore her and take all the crap she delivers.

So, I was polite with her, but other than that I didn't give her the time of day. Didn't try to start a conversation or befriend her in any way beyond minimum civility. The result is that I am not resentful and dwelling in anger as I was the last time we met. The idea was to send her the message that she had no power to upset me or make me spin my wheels on her account. She probably didn't even notice, but regardless, I feel good about myself, and that's extremely important.

There were also some European relatives who were very hard to talk to. I tried to be cheerful and friendly, but all I got from them was bewildered looks, as in, "You are nuts and we don't care to hear anything you're saying."

I ignored them, too. They came to my house and I greeted them politely, offered them food and beverages, but beyond that, I didn't feel it necessary to hurt myself in the process of entertaining people who don't want to be entertained. They're gone, I don't hate them, and I couldn't care less if I ever see them again.

With the mother-in-law I was friendly but firm. "What are you doing with the bread?" She asked.

"I am spreading it with garlic butter," I answered.
"But when are you going to do it?"
"In a minute."

She walked away from the kitchen. Maybe I was rude, maybe I wasn't. But it was ME for sure, and if she doesn't like me, she can stay the fuck away.

I truly think that the best thing about being middle-aged and pre-menopausal is that, at this point, life has taught me that people are either going to like me or not, regardless of what I do, and that's their problem.

Cold Feet and Night Sweats

For years, I've been suffering of cold feet. Well, I am 45, have fibroids, a chronic sinus infection, chronic back pain, and systemic candida (frequent urination, bladder problems, rashes, etc).

It is highly irritable that during cooler days my feet feel so cold, but at night, I can't sleep because I keep sweating all night. It so frustrating to be hot at night and cold during the day. What on earth is that?

Sometimes I think I should just call up the OB gyn and ask her to take the damned uterus out once and for all. How worse can it be? Can anyone tell me?