Monthly Archives: September 2015

Goodreads 2015 Reading Challenge

I have been a member of Goodreads for years, and since 2011 I have participated in the annual reading challenge.  My goals and completed books in the first four years were: 2011: goal – 48; completed – 10 2012: goal – 36; completed -16 2013: goal – 24; completed – 25 2014: goal – 24; […]

Goodreads 2015 Reading Challenge

I have been a member of Goodreads for years, and since 2011 I have participated in the annual reading challenge.  My goals and completed books in the first four years were: 2011: goal – 48; completed – 10 2012: goal – 36; completed -16 2013: goal – 24; completed – 25 2014: goal – 24; […]

A Llittle Better Than the Last

I’m sorry.  I don’t have the energy to be creative with titles today.  I took cough medicine but slept kind of rough still.  I’m trying to be optimistic, but I’ve got deadlines bearing down and no feeling of incentive to meet them.  I’m only one week post-surgery and feel about like it. I dont’ know what happened to me that I’m not bouncing back very well.  Right afterwards I seemed to be doing really well, but I’m starting to wonder if that wasn’t just the painkillers talking. I’m so very tired. I’m used to caffeine propping me up and I can’t have cokes anymore because of having my gallbladder out.  I wonder how long it will take to get over not having it and start feeling good again.  And I can’t help but wonder if I’m not reverting back to depression somehow.  I hope not.  I have too much to do to be depressed.

Here’s hoping everyone else is having a good week.  Keep praying for me.


Resting

This will be a rather short post. Instead of my typical 1500+ rambling word slush pile, I’m aiming for half of that. It’s good, I guess, because I’m sure you’re busy. Additionally I’ve read that it’s best to keep blog posts around 600 words to attract the most readers. While I’ve completely ignored that dictum, I have no delusions … Continue reading Resting

Resting

  This will be a rather short post. Instead of my typical 1500+ rambling word slush pile, I’m aiming for half of that. It’s good, I guess, because I’m sure you’re busy. Additionally I’ve read that it’s best to keep blog posts around 600 words to attract the most readers. While I’ve completely ignored that dictum, I have no … Continue reading Resting

My Food Story

tea

Some of you know I joined Overeater’s Anonymous in an attempt to get my eating and weight under control. I attend phone meetings for this group and was asked by my sponsor to tell my story on one of the meetings. I didn’t feel I was ready.

I decided to tell my food story here. You all are supportive and understanding. So here goes:

I always remember food as being a good thing. My mother was 18 when she had me and we lived with my grandparents. Looking back, Grandma was no gourmet cook. But she had her specialties and she had a hot dinner on the table every night.

Of course fifty years ago, everything was fried, buttered, and covered with gravy. The only salad we had was made from jello.

Like everyone in those days Grandma baked. This was a point of pride. She made cakes, pies, and cookies galore. These weren’t just for special occasions….we had dessert many nights.

Fortunately I was a skinny kid. I was never picked on about my weight. I was smart but lonely, being an only child. No one really bothered me about anything. I sort of floated along.

When I was six, we moved across the country from my grandparents. Not only were the hot meals gone, but my mom was mean. Just mean. She never cooked and I didn’t want her to. All I wanted was to escape her yelling. I’m not sure what the heck I ate during that time but I survived. Still skinny.

School food was great. They had homemade buns with butter all over them. You could get seconds and even thirds of anything if you finished your food. The cafeteria ladies actually LIKED it if you wanted more food. I still was a normal weight.

High school was actually a great time for me. I had friends, many activities and it got me away from home. I was still thin and ran with a nice crowd of kids. I had a best friend who lived a little way from the school. Every day, we’d go over there and eat lunch. Her mom cooked for us.

The first time I remember a weird food behavior was when I was babysitting. The mother had made a pan of lemon bars and set them to cool. She said I could have some and to give some to the kids. Well, I ate them all and the kids never saw any. I think the woman was sort of pleased that I liked her cooking that well. But she told my mom and my mom hit me for it. That was when I started sneaking food at other places.

I was suffering from severe depression by this time although it was not diagnosed. My stepfather was physically abusing me and I went off to college early. There was food galore at college. I had a meal ticket and ate everything in sight. I really liked the pudding. Fortunately I was involved in dance and that kept the weight off. I didn’t have any bizarre food behaviors other then just eating a lot wherever I went.

I graduated, got married way too early, and became a teacher. I also was hit with symptoms of bipolar disorder about this time. I got manic and had all kinds of poor behavior. But nothing really to do with food. I just forgot to eat when I was manic.

I became a principal and this is the first time I remember weighing myself and being interested in my weight. I would forget to eat and the school secretary would bring me food. I weighed myself and was 125 pounds. For me, this was thin as I am very tall. I had a lot of praise for being this thin. But I was extremely depressed and also getting a divorce. Food just wasn’t important.

I met husband #2 right away. I was so depressed at this point, I resigned from my job. I laid in bed and cried. I finally got to a psychiatrist who prescribed medication. I took it and it made me hungry. I wound up gaining about 20 pounds.

I still looked pretty good at 145. I got married at that weight and it wasn’t a big deal. We waited a year and then I got pregnant.

I thought getting pregnant was a license to eat. I got to 190 by the time I had my first baby. That was the beginning of the end. I lost about thirty pounds and repeated it all with the second baby. Then there was a third. At 200 pounds I wasn’t too happy. But I was raising three small children and battling depression. I didn’t have the energy to worry.

I tried a few diet plans but nothing worked. I was hospitalized a couple of times for depression. If you’ve ever been in a psychiatric hospital, you know the food is a major distraction. I gained weight there.

The doctors always jiggled my drugs around. Almost every single psych drug increases your hunger.

My kids grew up with me weighing around 170 pounds. I was tall and didn’t feel “obese” but I was heavy. Then I was hit with severe depression three years ago or so and literally was on the couch for two years. My weight went to a high of 245. That was the end of that. I got on a strict food plan which took ten pounds off immediately. I have been battling hard against the drugs, and I have stayed at 235. That probably sounds horrifically fat to many of you, but to me just maintaining is a victory. My friends and husband and kids still love me. I am very lucky.

I simply ate my way to this weight. I never purged my food. I did binge eat where I’d eat anything around. I have an incredible sweet tooth. If it has sugar I am there. That’s why I love birthdays, baby showers, and retirement parties. There is always cake. I have eaten food in gulps when it was too hot and I have burned my mouth. I have eaten food so fast I have choked on it. My life was truly unmanageable.

I hate to exercise, hate to watch what I eat, and still can’t get over sugar.

I joined Overeater’s Anonymous in the summer of 2015. To me, it is a very spiritual program that gets to the heart of the eating. My sponsor has bent over backwards to help me and she does it for free. I have met her in person and she is a normal weight and has normal behaviors. I can tell from her demeanor and writing that she has had a mental change toward food. It just doesn’t bother her. That’s what I want so bad.

So I keep working the steps. I know it will come.

Thank you for reading/ listening.

lily

My Food Story

tea

Some of you know I joined Overeater’s Anonymous in an attempt to get my eating and weight under control. I attend phone meetings for this group and was asked by my sponsor to tell my story on one of the meetings. I didn’t feel I was ready.

I decided to tell my food story here. You all are supportive and understanding. So here goes:

I always remember food as being a good thing. My mother was 18 when she had me and we lived with my grandparents. Looking back, Grandma was no gourmet cook. But she had her specialties and she had a hot dinner on the table every night.

Of course fifty years ago, everything was fried, buttered, and covered with gravy. The only salad we had was made from jello.

Like everyone in those days Grandma baked. This was a point of pride. She made cakes, pies, and cookies galore. These weren’t just for special occasions….we had dessert many nights.

Fortunately I was a skinny kid. I was never picked on about my weight. I was smart but lonely, being an only child. No one really bothered me about anything. I sort of floated along.

When I was six, we moved across the country from my grandparents. Not only were the hot meals gone, but my mom was mean. Just mean. She never cooked and I didn’t want her to. All I wanted was to escape her yelling. I’m not sure what the heck I ate during that time but I survived. Still skinny.

School food was great. They had homemade buns with butter all over them. You could get seconds and even thirds of anything if you finished your food. The cafeteria ladies actually LIKED it if you wanted more food. I still was a normal weight.

High school was actually a great time for me. I had friends, many activities and it got me away from home. I was still thin and ran with a nice crowd of kids. I had a best friend who lived a little way from the school. Every day, we’d go over there and eat lunch. Her mom cooked for us.

The first time I remember a weird food behavior was when I was babysitting. The mother had made a pan of lemon bars and set them to cool. She said I could have some and to give some to the kids. Well, I ate them all and the kids never saw any. I think the woman was sort of pleased that I liked her cooking that well. But she told my mom and my mom hit me for it. That was when I started sneaking food at other places.

I was suffering from severe depression by this time although it was not diagnosed. My stepfather was physically abusing me and I went off to college early. There was food galore at college. I had a meal ticket and ate everything in sight. I really liked the pudding. Fortunately I was involved in dance and that kept the weight off. I didn’t have any bizarre food behaviors other then just eating a lot wherever I went.

I graduated, got married way too early, and became a teacher. I also was hit with symptoms of bipolar disorder about this time. I got manic and had all kinds of poor behavior. But nothing really to do with food. I just forgot to eat when I was manic.

I became a principal and this is the first time I remember weighing myself and being interested in my weight. I would forget to eat and the school secretary would bring me food. I weighed myself and was 125 pounds. For me, this was thin as I am very tall. I had a lot of praise for being this thin. But I was extremely depressed and also getting a divorce. Food just wasn’t important.

I met husband #2 right away. I was so depressed at this point, I resigned from my job. I laid in bed and cried. I finally got to a psychiatrist who prescribed medication. I took it and it made me hungry. I wound up gaining about 20 pounds.

I still looked pretty good at 145. I got married at that weight and it wasn’t a big deal. We waited a year and then I got pregnant.

I thought getting pregnant was a license to eat. I got to 190 by the time I had my first baby. That was the beginning of the end. I lost about thirty pounds and repeated it all with the second baby. Then there was a third. At 200 pounds I wasn’t too happy. But I was raising three small children and battling depression. I didn’t have the energy to worry.

I tried a few diet plans but nothing worked. I was hospitalized a couple of times for depression. If you’ve ever been in a psychiatric hospital, you know the food is a major distraction. I gained weight there.

The doctors always jiggled my drugs around. Almost every single psych drug increases your hunger.

My kids grew up with me weighing around 170 pounds. I was tall and didn’t feel “obese” but I was heavy. Then I was hit with severe depression three years ago or so and literally was on the couch for two years. My weight went to a high of 245. That was the end of that. I got on a strict food plan which took ten pounds off immediately. I have been battling hard against the drugs, and I have stayed at 235. That probably sounds horrifically fat to many of you, but to me just maintaining is a victory. My friends and husband and kids still love me. I am very lucky.

I simply ate my way to this weight. I never purged my food. I did binge eat where I’d eat anything around. I have an incredible sweet tooth. If it has sugar I am there. That’s why I love birthdays, baby showers, and retirement parties. There is always cake. I have eaten food in gulps when it was too hot and I have burned my mouth. I have eaten food so fast I have choked on it. My life was truly unmanageable.

I hate to exercise, hate to watch what I eat, and still can’t get over sugar.

I joined Overeater’s Anonymous in the summer of 2015. To me, it is a very spiritual program that gets to the heart of the eating. My sponsor has bent over backwards to help me and she does it for free. I have met her in person and she is a normal weight and has normal behaviors. I can tell from her demeanor and writing that she has had a mental change toward food. It just doesn’t bother her. That’s what I want so bad.

So I keep working the steps. I know it will come.

Thank you for reading/ listening.

lily

Wreckage

I am feeling like a trainwreck. Cramps have arrived and with that comes all the body aches and muscle aches of hormonal shift. I’m awake but I feel half asleep. My motivation is nil and yet the place is a fucking biohazard zone. To top it off, I got blasted with blinding sunlight in the eyes when I took Spook to school earlier and it has gifted me with a frontal headache from hell. I’ve thought about resorting to Tylenol, see if the pain is dulled I might feel well enough to at least put the place into a state where the biohazard sign can come down. Of course, I forgot, then other shit went wrong.

I called the shrink’s office, intending to only remind them I need a paper script for my Focalin refill. Instead I gushed out how I don’t see him again til next month but I really don’t think I am doing all that well now that the cold weather is here…Nurse was very nice, said she’d talk to him, call me back. Well, I forgot I didn’t give them my cell from swapping phones with my mom and now the home phones have decided to both go absolutely useless. One just needs to charge but the charger ain’t working or the battery is just fucked. The other got wet or something and now just makes a shrieking static noise when turned on. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Now I gotta buy new phones??? Are you fucking kidding me?

Least I had twelve hours of admiring my pretty new faucet, expertly installed by R, before something else decided to break. I can’t afford a phone. Hell, if I don’t figure out a solution to this vacuum situation, all the fur and lint on the floor is gonna metastasize and form a saberteooth mutant dirt cat of doom….

I also think my left tire is going bad and ha I have no spare.

My kid has brought home blue and purple this week on her behavior chart. Bad bad bad. All for talking and it is never her fault, it’s always some other kid. I have tried to gently explain that even if they talk to her, she doesn’t have to open her mouth. Especially if it will get her in trouble. Six weeks of school and she’s had seven blues and three purples. She didn’t get this shit in pre K or Kindergarten. In fact, one of the pre K teachers we saw yesterday said she sure missed having Spook’s happy face and manners in her class every day.

WTF? How does she go from being that charming at the other schools and now in first grade with this newbie-ish teacher, she’s a demon? I shall find out during parent teacher conferences next week,I guess. If the teacher can be arsed. God knows she can’t even write a note about my kid’s behavior or any missing homework, just mark her pre report card with black marks. I fucking hate school. Even second hand it is toxic. I want to a supportive parent who is interested in her child’s education but first I gotta get a line of communication going with the woman spending six hours a day with my kid. Geesh.

The old saying “you get what you pay for” is absolute shit. I am paying $7.99 a month for Hulu (rather than seventy for basic cable) and I’ll be damned if they don’t post the one show I wanted to see. They have every other new show from the network, but not that one. Seriously? Useless fucks. Not to mention, I never had such buffering and drop out issues using a free streaming site. So I pay for crap service to not get to watch what I wanna see. That’s fucking hysterical, Hulu. Go fuck yourself.

I feel like I am gonna throw up and my lower abdomen is screeching in pain as it seems there are rabid oompa loopmas down there punching my ovaries at random intervals. I feel like shit. Once a month, every month. Not sure how menopause could be any worse than bipolar with a curse.

No, I do NOT have anything positive to say.

Well, I did have a kind of cool dream where Nightshade had surprise kittens (again) but they came out the size of two month old kittens and were frolicking about the place instead of being ya know, newborn lumps. I think this dream stems from the fact that I am still so heartbroken and lost without Abby and Arsenic. I say hi to their graves every single day at some point. They are gone but soo not forgotten. I’d sacrifice a dozen of the useless locals just to have my kitties back. They served a purpose. These dregs of humanity serve only to party and insult others. So, sure benevolent god, it makes absolute sense to let them live on and on and on yet take away my kitties who were filling my cold dead depression riddled heart with love and brief moments of joy.

I’m sure many wonder how fucked in the head one has to be to value cats over human lives but hey…Cats never caused me psychological damage and destroyed my faith. I don’t think it’s complicated or without total merit.

Now…I am gonna try to get to the cabinet for that Tylenol and hope in the twenty steps there I don’t forget or get distracted by something else fucking breaking…Feel the stabby rays of my sunshine. FEEL THEM.


Empathy sucks

Today I learned that someone I know lost a loved one to suicide shortly after losing another loved one to a natural death.

Lost – that’s not a good word – they weren’t misplaced, she’s not going to find them again – I don’t know what other word to use. She’s not a close friend, she’s an acquaintance. I’ve not verbally spoken to her, but we’ve messaged on Facebook. But I feel so incredibly sad for her…or do I simply feel sadness?

I’m tired of feeling what I think or hear others are feeling, I have enough trouble dealing with my own pain. The pain of others dredges up too many memories, sometimes they’re just memories of feelings.

I’m tired…

too tired to use the thesaurus (I wanted a better word than “lost”).
too tired to find a clever picture to go with the post.
tired of hearing about suicide prevention.
tired of feeling ill, physically and mentally.
tired of seeing “uplifting” memes.
tired of being told how to fix myself.
tired of trying everything I can think of.
tired of being told to keep going.
tired of trying to be interesting.
tired of being strong.
tired of being supportive.
tired of accepting support.
tired of medications that don’t work.
tired of therapies that don’t work.
tired of pretending to be happy.
tired of doing.
tired of being.

My father had a word for this: “weltschmerz”

Tagged: depression, empathy

Bad News

image

Atina in her post-op coat, checking for mice

My readers already know that Atina’s kidneys are bad, that I knew that within 24 hours of her purchase, and proved it by taking her to the vet and having blood and urine tests done immediately.  We knew that the broker I bought her from, along with her trainer, and along with their veterinarian, cooked up a cockamaimie story that I was somehow responsible for Atina’s kidney failure because she sniffed some of my arnica oil.

Over $5,000 later, just in vet bills, not including travel, camping, food, and other strictly Atina-related expenses, we finally have an answer.  And as we might have guessed, it has nothing to do with arnica.

The initial biopsy report came in today.  More will trickle in over the week.  But the news is not good.  Really, really not good.

Kidneys are made up of a lot of different structures.  The ones that have to do with filtering out bad stuff and keeping good stuff in the blood are called nephrons.  The biopsy consisted of a wedge shaped chunk of kidney.  This chunk was divided up into several smaller chunks, each destined to be tested in a different way.

The first test is simply to look at the architecture of the kidney.  This is the result we got today, and it’s shocking, and horrifying.

The chunk of kidney tested contained 27 nephrons.  Of those, only two were normal.  The majority of the rest were fetal nephrons.  The rest were basically dead, having been worked to death from trying to compensate for the undeveloped ones.

The pathologist wrote that this was likely due to something that happened to Atina’s mother, either while she was pregnant or nursing, that affected Atina’s kidneys and stopped them from going ahead and developing.  These fetal nephrons will never develop.  They will calcify, or just turn into scar tissue.  There is already scarring.

My poor girl is somehow continuing to chug along on 7% of normal kidney function.  It shows.

She doesn’t have much energy.  Her appetite waxes and wanes.  But show her a frisbee and boy, she will chase that thing two or three times, before she tuckers out and I make her stop.  I learned the hard way, though.  One day I let her play all she wanted, and she tried to die on me.

Today we’re camped at a State Park.  Two young adolescent boys came along, bearing a toy football.  Atina went up to them, and they froze in their tracks.  She looks so scary!  But she went ahead and took what she wanted: she stuck her head under each boy’s hand and demanded that they pet her!  First one boy, then the other.  They were petrified.

I wanted to say, You’d better pet her, or she’ll bite you!  But I didn’t.

Then we had to part ways, because Atina realized that there was a ball involved…And I said to the boys, don’t throw that ball till I get her out of here, ’cause she will pop it if she gets hold of it!

Tomorrow another part of the biopsy will be in.  At this point it’s purely academic, since we know most of the story from today’s result.  Her vet at the University gives her several months to live, maybe a year or two if we’re lucky.