2010, It’s Been Real December 30, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Fam Damily, Health, Home Life, Life, Lists.
Yay, it’s still snowing on my blog! I don’t know how long that will last but I always enjoy it while it does.
It’s that week between Christmas and New Year’s where I always feel like I’m stuck in some kind of Twilight Zoneified limbo. The days feel like they’re oozing by, yet I know that hateful moment when the first alarm goes off to signify it’s back to work is going to be here before I know it, so I’m trying my hardest to make the most of what’s left of my freedom.
For the first time in a really long time I feel like the past year has been significantly good. In list form:
– We paid off both vehicles, two huge monkeys who had resided on our backs for way too long.
– We were able to upgrade our dinosaur of a desktop into two cute laptops and a printer that actually prints. I realize for most people that’s not much of an accomplishment but for us it felt like a technological epoch we jumped.
– I sweated and counted calories until almost twenty pounds came off my body; slowly and painfully, but they did come off. The holidays have put back about three of those pounds and I was at a stand-still before that but at least I know I can do it now and I’m motivated to keep going (after this weekend of course; I’m not a superhero – sheesh).
– Besides my usual trips to Florida (one driving, one flying), I made it to Savannah again (during which time I got to eat at Paula Deen’s restaurant thus achieving a big food goal) and up to New York for an awesome weekend with my favorite cousin. I do tend to somehow always end up somewhere along the eastern seaboard so maybe in the coming year I’ll make it a point to try to go west for once.
– Along with my day job and our foreclosure work, I landed a sweet side job (thanks to Sister) proof reading transcripts for her court reporting company. This is significant in that it let me achieve a life dream of actually reading for money which to me is amazing.
Unfortunately there were a few deaths in Brian’s family that were untimely and really sad: his 17-year-old cousin Justin who died of an accidental drug overdose, his mom’s cousin Keith who was 54 and whose house on the river we went to every summer for family reunions, and most shocking of all our sister-in-law Toni, whose death I’m still having a hard time understanding. She was 37 and her kids and husband are getting ripped off by not getting to have had her longer. Brian is there right now spending some time with his brother and the kids and I can’t imagine how they got through their first Christmas without her. But they did, because that’s what you do.
When we first found out about her, Brian grabbed me into a hug and said, “It just makes me want to be a better husband to you,” and I knew what he meant. It SUCKS, but what I’m trying to take from all of it is to appreciate and acknowledge our health and happiness. Because all the material things, the financial goals, whatever – none of it means anything compared to that.
Even the other day when we were riding around looking at the post-Christmas day snow (also in 2010 it snowed here twice – woo!), I said to him, “MAN I’m thankful I’m not blind so I can see this.” That sounds silly but it’s true. And I guess that’s my main resolution: to pause in the middle of a good moment like that and to recognize it as it’s happening.
Always Something There to Remind Me June 16, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Health, Nail Biter, Tee Vee, Uncategorized.
Every once in awhile I’ll see (or hear or smell) something that unpleasantly transports me back to the time when I was ingesting substances more than food. I’m not surprised by the flashback phenomenon itself, but I’m still somewhat taken aback every time it happens and the ick factor is always still there.
Last night on the fishing show Deadliest Catch, one of the fishermen’s sons was acting a little strangely throughout the show until the very end when the kid gets caught by his dad breaking into dad’s pill stash. Dad, who didn’t have a very good temper on the best of days, blows his stack, screaming at his son and calling him a thief and a liar, saying he never wants to see him again…until the son, pale-faced and shaking, whispers into his dad’s ear that he’s sorry, he’s sick and he’s an addict. That was all it took to stop dad in his tracks and his anger was immediately replaced by what looked like a resigned exhaustion.
Whoof, was that hard to watch.
This is not one of those reality shows that spends an hour showing people trying to outdo each other in assholery and made-up drama. The type of job they do and the conditions they do it in provide all the drama any good TV show could ever ask for. Obviously no one is immune to addiction, but for someone like this to admit to having a drug problem has a lot more impact than say, one of the Real Housewives. I guess what I’m trying to say is it felt more real. To me, anyway.
After the shock, the scene hit me a few different ways. The first thing was imagining what it would be like to suffer withdrawals out on a boat in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from any help. I think I’ve tried to describe opiate withdrawal before and I say again, no words I have can ever accurately explain what it’s like. As Jake was crying and saying over and over, “I’m sick, you don’t understand,” I thought, Oh my hell. People who don’t know might think, wow – stealing pills from your dad who’s in poor health and suffering from extreme back pain? That’s pretty low, dude. No. You have no idea.
If I had to take a guess at what happened, I’d say the little dude has probably been dabbling for awhile and had most likely gotten to the point – maybe stemming from an injury – of being prescribed his own meds. Happens all the time. He’s only in his mid-twenties, but has probably suffered more on-the-job injuries than most of us could rack up in a lifetime. So okay, taking pills regularly. And then once in awhile popping a couple in-between the prescribed times. Slowly, without even realizing it, you feel much better and everything is so much more pleasant and easy to deal with after using whether you’re in pain at the time or not.
They go out to sea sometimes for weeks at a time. I’m guessing he either didn’t plan his drug supply accordingly, they stayed out longer than what he anticipated and if he hadn’t yet tried to kick pills, he had no idea what he was in for when the drugs left his system. When that happens? Desperation doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m sure he did not take his dad’s medication for the fun of it, and maybe not even to get high – at that point your body has taken over and is in total control. Ethics? Morals? Right and wrong? Fuck that – your body is telling your brain to FIX IT.
The look of pure shame when his dad was yelling at him hit me square in the gut. Having to keep something like that to yourself until the time comes when you have no choice but to admit it to your loved one – oh I remember that conversation with Brian like it was yesterday. I probably shouldn’t have told him “I need to talk to you after work tonight,” in the tone of voice I did, because when you’ve had the kind of shit happen we have, he was figuring I was going to tell him there was someone else or something equally as pleasant. Which actually turned out better because he was almost relieved when I told him I need to fix my problem. (“Oh, it’s just drugs? Sure, we can deal with that!”)Unfortunately in the time between when that episode was filmed and now, the father has passed away. My dad’s passing was one of the big catalysts that kicked my habit into high gear. I hope there’s someone else he’s close with who can be a source of support and caring as much as Brian did for me. I also ope wherever he is in the process, that he’s seen the worst of it. My heart goes out to anyone who’s ever had to fight this.
Lull June 14, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Friends, Health, Home Life, Money.
Let’s go ahead and get the complaint out of the way first: it’s fucking hot. At the risk of Heather Jo making fun of me for stating the obvious (one of the things we talk about frequently is weather and she laughs at people who complain or act surprised when they’ve lived somewhere forever and should know by now what the deal is), I can’t reiterate enough how much I hate it. Unlike her, who is one of the lucky people who seem to have a high tolerance for a wide array of temps, I think I’m starting to become opposite of that. Brian says I have a comfort range of about five degrees and I’m starting to think he’s right (although 65 – 75 is probably more like it, so okay, ten).
We’ve had high 90’s or low 100’s for the past few days and as you may guess, it makes me want to punch something. I love being outside but when it’s like this I avoid it as much as possible and then I get sad and feel like a cave dweller.
Luckily Saturday evening we had something to do, which forced us to leave the house. I was thankful for it. Friends of ours just moved into a new house and needed our truck to move some of the leftover big things, including a treadmill which weighs more Earth. We waited until almost sundown to get started and though it was still steamy out, it was a vast improvement. It was sweaty work to be sure, but we always have fun hanging out with them and were really happy to be able to help because we know how much moving sucks ass. They have a gorgeous new house and I’m really excited for them. Sitting out on the deck swatting the moths away, I could visualize how amazing it’ll be to visit and cook out there in good weather!
One thing with hibernating right now though is that when you stay home you’re not spending any money. (Obviously I still could – Amazon is possible no matter what, but I’m avoiding that too and being a good little library goer) Right now we’re on the verge of the car being paid off (so close, so close!) and also repaired, a washing machine that seems to have lost its ability to spin and a truck that has new weird noises every week. It’s frustrating for both of us to feel like we’re holed up every weekend, but on the other hand the light at the end of the tunnel is getting brighter and more real, so we’re trying to stay focused on that. We’ve weathered way worse times and I know we’ll get through this little period of ennui as well.
Working on losing weight helps me too. I know if nothing else, I am making progress with something. If exercising and eating well is the only thing I’ve accomplished that day, well, that’s better than what I was doing before. It does wonders for my mood to put on a pair of pants that didn’t fit a few weeks ago or to see the numbers going in the right direction on the scale. Yesterday I even tortured myself a little and watched Food Network – Paula Deen was making bbq ribs, potato salad, homemade ice cream and oh, I just laughed and laughed as I ate my salad.
One good thing about me – I can always find ways to amuse myself. That’s an important quality to have, especially during times like these.
Drugs Aren’t the Answer…But What Was the Question? December 21, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Celebrities, Experience, Health, Life.
File this under Stating the Obvious, but wow has this been a shitty year for celebrities. The news of Brittany Murphy’s death yesterday capped off what’s been a totally surreal few months Re: death of famous people. Like many people, when I first read about her I immediately thought, Oh okay – cokehead tweeker + cardiac arrest = not surprising. Which then kind of made me feel bad because that’s mean. It could’ve been something else. But then later last night I read about how her husband didn’t want an autopsy done and then I was back to thinking, yeah it was drugs. Either way, sad.
Drugs. I’ve dabbled. If you know me IRL, you know my story. If you don’t, well, it’s a pathetic story that shames and embarrasses me to this day even though it’s been several years since I got the problem looked at and taken care of. That’s not to mean I take “recovery” lightly; I still do proactive things on a daily basis to ensure the problem never returns.
Before I caught a habit, I was pretty cocky about the whole thing. I figured since I knew my mom’s alcohol issues and by the time I was in my late 20’s I was pretty much over drinking, I was okay. And then with other substances I tried, nothing ever stuck so hey, look at me – all moderation and shit. Even with pot, probably the least dangerous (imo), I finally reached the point where I didn’t like it anymore and simply stopped smoking. Yay, me.
But then a bunch of shit happened in a relatively short period of time; bad, life-changing shit. The oft-documented Bad Time with Brian and in the midst of all that the death of my dad. I consciously knew substituting various pills for food wasn’t the healthiest choice, especially when the dog got used to following me into the bathroom to sit there nervously and watch me throw up. It did wonders for my waistline but probably not many favors for my liver.
Strangely Xanax, something I’ve been prescribed on and off over the years, has never been a problem for me. (Maybe because I actually use it for what it’s meant for? Gee, what a concept.) Anxiety issues run rampant in my genes and I’m thankful my current doctor who knows my drug history sees fit to trust me with this drug. No, the pills I like are unfortunately all of the pain variety. Makes things tricky when I occasionally need things done like dental work or God forbid my shitty back starts to act up.
Opiates don’t play, either. I’m sure you’ve heard of heroin? Yeah well, a lot of pill poppers fool themselves into thinking they’re A-ok because at least they’ve never sunk that low. Heroin users are back alley street junkies or rich skanky rock stars. Totally different than the white, middle-aged wife/mother/contributing member of society who keeps her drugs stored and sorted neatly in her little orange child-proof capped prescription bottles. Totally different. Except exactly the same. No, I never injected heroin into my body. But use your imagination and yes, I probably did that and that and oh right, that too. Everything else.
And trust me when I say withdrawals do not discriminate. When you haven’t slept for four days, have turned every clock in your house around backwards so you don’t see how every minute is lasting an hour, freezing cold and also burning up, gushing sweat, pacing, and balancing your ass on the toilet and your face in a trash can so your body can expel everything simulataneously, well, you stop feeling so goddamn righteous over never having shot up.
Before I experienced all that, I didn’t understand the attraction of drugs. People like John Belushi and River Phoenix and Chris Farley (and, and, and) really pissed me off. How can you have that much talent, that big of a life, mean so much to so many people and throw it away to get high. Your life is that miserable that you can’t bear to live it? Well, yes. Yes, that’s the whole point.
Luckily for me, I do value my life. And I’m a chickenshit. And a guilty person who never wants to disappoint people. I never had a death wish, even during the worst of times. It’s hard to put into words, but what I did want was…a break. A little vacation from the relentless THOUGHTS that kept coming and coming and coming. Not to be nodding off comatose or tripping the light fantastic in another dimension or tweaked out of my mind, but just…peace. To have all the sharp edges nice and rounded off and maybe a little blurry.
And I completely sympathize with anyone else seeking it. Life sometimes sucks the big one. But it’s still totally worth it.
Down with the Sickness September 21, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Health, Work.
Every year this day finds me joyous, jubilent even – celebrating the last day of my least favorite season and the beginning of my favorite. This year, not so much. The biggest thing I’m celebrating today is the fact I’ve almost been awake longer than I’ve been asleep and that the rotten metal taste has almost left the inside of my mouth.
Holy crusty snotballs, I don’t remember the last time I was this sick. It’s funny how you never forget the suckiness but somehow you do forget the HIGH LEVEL of suckitude. This is when you (and by you I mean me) start to make deals with God, “I promise I’ll do better with the vitamin intake and stop counting corn as a vegetable. Just please, PLEASE get this taste out of my mouth and let all this shitty medicine start working.”
I know for a fact I was running a fairly high fever, thanks to my hi-tech, tells-you-when-you’re-ovulating digital thermometer – at one point it was over 102, but that was also in the middle of the night when I was buried under the winter comforter in pajamas and a sweatshirt. Still though. Last night I got to be awake for the exact moment when the fever broke, that beautiful pouring of sweat until you’re clammy and corpselike (can you tell I’ve been reading Stephen King?) so I’m not all the way human yet, but I can tell just by the fact I’m sitting here typing I’m well on my way back. Thank you God. Although at last check my temp was 97.5 – what the hell? Oh who cares; after days of 100 plus, I’ll take it.
The good part about this (besides the four easy pounds I lost) is for awhile now I won’t take feeling NORMAL for granted. Normal is GOOD, normal is fucking GREAT.
And I know it’s never a convenient time in our very busy and important lives to come down with something, but this was particularly shitty timing as far as work goes. I’m in the middle of a really training-heavy month, not to mention they’ve upped the terror level to P for Paranoid regarding the piggy flu. In fact, my boss was pretty bitchy this morning when she barged into my office, demanding to know what I was doing there being so sick. I calmly explained to her I was only there to do the very necessary work and then I was leaving, but also that I was trying to be considerate to everyone else by staying only in MY office, the one she just ramrodded her way into – which made her slowly back the fuck out, which was the plan. Close-talker not wanting to be so close NOW, huh?
I’m over her for reals right now. Not only for this, but a bunch of butt trifling shit that’s not even worth getting into. Just don’t be surprised when I soon start talking about other potential positions within the university. Two years of “being thankful to have a job” and “putting up with fill-in-the-blank” is enough. I still have dreams about my old job, the one I had before we moved back up here – I want to be that happy at work again. All the things I loved about working at the college are still available; I think they’re just located in a different department than the one I’m currently in. And if it’s in my power to do so, well then damn skippy, Ima do something. Make hay while the sun shines, that’s what Pa Ingalls always said.
Okay, maybe the fever isn’t quite out of my system yet.
Tornado Tummy August 18, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Health, Nail Biter, Weather, Youth.
No, that isn’t some new ailment you should concern yourself with. But it is very real – if you’re me.
Back in the Paleozoic era when I attended elementary school in Sarasota, Florida, we learned all kinds of emergency preparedness procedures. Fire drills. School bus safety. Memorizing our addresses and phone numbers and to avoid talking to strangers unless they were wearing trench coats and offering candy. But the one that sticks out most in my mind is the hurricane information.
Hurricane season goes from June 1st until November 1st but in my experience, September is usually the most active month. There were plenty of school years that had just gotten under way and then were abruptly interrupted for a few days by a hurricane or tropical storm. Most kids loved it and I admit to a certain amount of excitement myself since living in Florida meant those were the closest thing we had to snow days. But when I was younger and developing all the many neurosis I still carry with me today, I didn’t enjoy discussing impending disaster one bit. In fact, I’m very surprised one of my favorite hobbies now is to read and watch weather stuff all the time because it certainly didn’t start out that way.
So one year, I think I was in second or third grade, we were in the middle of hurricane season and it appeared one was headed our way. I don’t remember much about it except one day soon before it was expected to hit, tornadoes started sprouting up like they sometimes do. Apparently one was pretty close to our school because an announcement came over the loud speaker that instructed the teachers to keep everyone in the classrooms and away from windows, as an official warning had been issued. My teacher, whom I loved and trusted, tried to keep things light and told us to sit on the floor in a circle so we could talk and have some fun. Her tone was chipper and upbeat but I wasn’t having any of it.
Immediately I felt the need to poop. Yes, I think all my bathroom issues can be traced back to that very moment, for ever since whenever pressed with a stressful situation, that’s my go-to bodily function. But there was no way in hell I was going to ask to go to the bathroom in the middle of what I was certain going to be the death of us all. I sat there in silence and suffered until the ordeal passed. Eventually my stomach calmed down but in my mind I finally had a name for what’s now called Irritable Bowel Syndrome – Tornado Tummy. It’s very effective in describing both my reaction to a weather emergency and also what it feels like goes on inside my stomach when I’m worried or upset.
I’ve been suffering from Tornado Tummy a lot lately. And the bitch of it is, there’s no damn reason for it and I can’t figure out what’s causing it. (Yes it is actually hurricane season right now, but since I no longer live five miles from the Gulf of Mexico, I no longer worry about the storms so much) No, this is the type of anxiety that bothers me the most – when things are going WELL and I’m STILL stressed out about some unnamed, obscure thing. I guess another name for it would be Waiting-For-The-Other-Shoe-To-Drop syndrome? Things are good so something bad must be just around the corner? I HATE thinking like that. Because it means that I’m unable to fully enjoy when things are going well and that’s just not how I want to be.
I’ve been off of Xanax for over six months now and I’ve been mostly fine with that. But I don’t know – it might be time to re-visit that or maybe even something else in order to maybe reign these feelings in a little bit. I don’t like the thought of medicating, but on the other hand thoughts of doom aren’t a lot of fun either. Any anxiety sucks, and there are plenty of things in this world to be concerned with every day but when I’m spending time and energy thinking up stuff to worry about? Probably time to take care of that.
Side effect June 9, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Exercise, Foodies, Health, Home Life.
So, I’ve been hinting and teasing about how I need to start exercising more regularly and blah blah, but besides half-assedly using my stepper a couple of times a week for no longer than 35 minutes at a time, I haven’t done shit to change anything. And then something very unpleasant happened this morning.
I was getting dressed for work and put on a clean pair of cute cuffed capris I hadn’t worn in a few weeks due to lack of laundry doing. And they were tight. Not only were they tight, they were damn-near impossible to button. Full disclosure: these are my fat pants. But considering I was already running ridiculously late for work and hadn’t really planned out any other clothing options, I made do – took a hair band and did the maternity pants trick of looping it through the hole and securing it around the button twice like I was three months’ preg. Add to that a long button down shirt (which I noticed gapped at boob level)(which I HATE) and off I went. Somehow I managed not to have a crying fit/nervous breakdown. Not sure how, because damn, I am Not Happy about this.
Obviously things haven’t been going the best over the past few (six) months or so. And considering I’ve made great effort in trying to be the healthiest I can be, you’d think this wouldn’t be a problem right now. But between quitting smoking, not drinking anything alcoholic or very much caffeinated and carbonated and not being able to pop a pill whenever things get a little rough, food has become my way of medicating. I don’t know why I thought I was immune to this type of behavior, considering things I’ve done in my past.
Very ironically sex is high up on the priority list lately, so it’s not good that I am in no mood to be naked in front of myself, let alone Brian. Not that I’ve ever been the type to lounge around sans clothes anyway, but right now? Even with with lights out I’m nowhere near comfortable. Not good. It’s easy to avoid looking in the mirror, not so easy to keep avoiding other things.
But it’s not just sex; being like this is affecting every aspect of life. I would no sooner accept an invitation that would involve getting into a bathing suit right now then I would to go take a tour of Auschwitz. Hell, I wasn’t fond of wearing shorts when I weighed 105, let alone right now. And hey, have you noticed – it’s summertime. This past weekend we almost went to visit his brother’s family who have a pool and spend most of their free time at the river. In bathing suits. I was sadly very relieved when the landscape job opportunity came up so that we couldn’t go. But I’m planning a trip to Florida in the near future. We’re doing the beach house thing with his family again this Labor Day – the one year anniversary of the first time I saw our sister-in-law in her new boob job and bikini. None of these activities are at all attractive to me right now. But neither is hibernating in the house for the next three months. So that means it’s time to get off my ever-expanding ass in a serious way and do something the hell about it.
That 30-Day Shred dvd I’ve talked about for months? Is now in the dvd player, ready to go. Tomorrow when I go to the grocery, there will be no tough decision regarding what flavor of Breyer’s we’ll be eating for the week. There will however, be much less fun food purchases instead. But that’s okay. Because regardless of what’s going on with the baby situation or the money situation or whatever else is stressing me out at the moment, not fitting into my clothes certainly can’t be helping matters.
I’ve usually been pretty good at recognizing when the time has come to stop bitching and start actually doing something. And holy hell, that time is now.
Death, disease and exercise June 2, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Health, Jews.
First you have to try to imagine the sound of my Jewy aunt’s astounding Brooklyn accent: picture a cross between Fran Drescher, the sound your teeth would make if you scraped them along a sidewalk, and a dentist drill. With lots of cuss words. The first time Brian heard her speak he actually got startled, and he’s not one to scare easily. If I ever want to induce an anxiety attack, all I have to do is picture introducing her to Brian’s mother. The two of them would need an interpreter.
So she calls me today to give me an update on my uncle’s current health situation, (In brief: Not Good) but as always the conversation quickly turned to the subject of her. Apparently her job isn’t going so well right now (she’s the bookkeeper for a fairly large landscape company) and in her words, she “Seriously fucked up. Twice.” However, she is trying to look on the bright side, which for her means she feels bad but lucky her recent mistake has now been overshadowed. It seems that yesterday one of their employees was struck and killed by a Budweiser truck while driving a lawn mower.
Don’t believe me?
And you know, most untimely deaths are tragic, they really are. But damn. For this lady’s family to have to tell people how she died? That is just adding insult to injury right there. Lawn mower injury. And it’s not like my aunt was giddy for this poor woman’s misfortune you understand, she was just really grateful for the timing of it.
After I got off the phone with her I immediately called Brian and told him to warn the guys on his crew to look out for stray beer trucks, because good Lord; you just never know.
On a serious note (well, technically that was serious too, but come on), my uncle has been diagnosed with cancer – they found it on one of his kidneys a few weeks ago and more recently on his bladder. He’s having surgery in late July so I’m definitely going to try to make it to Florida before then. This, coming right on the heels of Brian’s brother being diagnosed with prostate cancer? That disease can eat a bag of dicks as far as I’m concerned; I hate it. Someone needs to go ahead and find the cure already; I mean, how many more 5k’s do we have to walk/run before this happens? God? Because I don’t know anyone, ANYONE, who hasn’t been directly or indirectly affected by the piece of shit.
Okay, enough cheerfulness from me for one day. We are so busy with outside-of-work work, that we’re fighting complete exhaustion every day. But, with extra work comes extra money, so there might even soon come a day when that asshole we call a truck is actually completely fixed and running like a champ. Imagine that. I barely can.
On the exercise front, I’m sucking, but I am managing to get on the stepper three to four times a week, which I suppose is better than nothing. What is completely retarded is that I have access to not one, but two gyms here on campus, gyms I could use FOR FREE. What’s stopping me, you ask? Besides being a lazy whore? Well, it’s stupid. Imagine you’re me; kinda pale, at the high end of my weight and old. Now imagine walking into a university’s gym, one that is full of tan, twiggy college girls. I mean, would they even allow someone like me to enter much less use the same machines and weights? I don’t know, but I’m completely horrified by the idea. Probably should try and work on that.
Can’t say baby where I’ll be in a year May 29, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Health, Life, Moods.
Yesterday I had another appointment with the therapist person. I’m pretty sure I like her. I’m almost positive I do. Unlike Brian, who is of the opinion psychology/psychiatry/whatever is for the most part crap, (that’s not all his fault; he gets it from his mother) I think it’s something that can be extremely beneficial, depending on the individual, his/her situation and the doctor. There’s no denying a certain amount of bullshit is involved, but I feel that way about most professions so it’s not a biggie to me.
Yesterday’s topic was obviously the third failed IUI. I told her my period arrived last Sunday right before Brian was leaving to go out of town but that I wasn’t surprised about it like I’d been the previous two times. So besides sleeping most of that day and being a little down this week, I think I’m doing pretty okay. Note: doc wasn’t even tryin’ to hear that. She looked at me. An uncomfortable length of eye contact time ensued. Then:
Her: So. You’re doing okay?
Me: Yeah, I really think so.
Her: So you’ve cried over it and in a matter of four days have moved on?
Me: Well no, but…
Her: Oh. So you haven’t even CRIED yet?
And it was at that point I believe she made it her mission in life to make me cry. I’m not saying she told me I look fat and my roots are showing. She just seemed very goal orientated. As in her To Do list looked like this: (1) make patients cry (2) make them stop crying (3) go home satisfied I’ve done my part to make the world a better place. The worst part – her evil plan worked. I kind of laughed as I reached for the tissue box that just happened to be sitting on the small table next to me; it’s not often you recognize the moment you become a human cliche.
Her opinion is that I’m practicing the art of avoidance. Okay, fair enough. I’m burying my feelings, not dealing with it, etc. Which, okay – I can see that. And I understand that’s not good. But then she told me I need to FEEL my feelings before I can move on. So I said, “Okay, so how do I do that?” she didn’t have an answer for me. Her recommendations included write in my journal (check), continue to exercise (I haven’t every day, but I’ve gotten much more consistent) and either talk about it with people or don’t, depending on how I feel. Um…okay. That wasn’t what I’d call a huge revelation, lady. Your gentle suggestions for me to do things I’m already doing makes me a little cranky. But then again anyone who ends a therapy session by poorly singing Aerosmith (“Sweeeeet Emooootion…”) is A-okay in my book.
Weekend! Starts in 4.5 hours!
Back in the saddle again May 12, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Friends, Health, Home Life, Work.
So Brian’s back working a regular, paycheck-every-week fulltime job again. As Farmer Jones would say, Praise Jesus, the crops are saved! Well that’s what I’d imagine a farmer would say. But he’s understandably stoked about it; it’s been over a year since he was laid off and while we were lucky enough that he had fairly steady sub-contract work, the company (What up, Wells Fargo, you slow-paying piece of shit) didn’t make it a priority to always send their checks in a timely, under 30-day manner. Made for some interesting challenges in bill paying, I can assure you.
I don’t think I can express how excited I am to start paying bills on time again! To be in the grocery and splurge on Arnold Jewish Rye and Laughing Cow cheese if I feel like it! To fill the damn gas tank all the way instead of putting in ten dollars and making it last a week (although with gas going up and up again I may still stick to that policy). It’s the little things that make me happy, it really is.
Believe me, I’m the last person you’d want to come to for Sound Financial Advice. But something Mrs. Redneck told me the other night just plain shocked the hell out of me. As I’ve written about before, they ended up losing their house to foreclosure a few months ago, but lucked up and found a decent (and bigger) place for about half the monthly amount of what they’d been paying. She was talking about how much better they’ve been doing financially lately, then said, “And it’s really made a difference with not going out to eat so much.” I thought, Derrr, huh? She said, “Oh yeah – we were terrible; we used to eat out at least three or four nights a week and not always fast food either; a lot of times it was Olive Garden, Longhorn, stuff like that.”
What the…This is a family of four we’re talking about! Yes, the kids are young, but still! I tried doing some quick math in my head (NOT an easy endeavor for me) and figured out at the very least, they must’ve been spending over a hundred bucks a week doing that. This, while falling four months behind on the mortgage? I mean, I’m very familiar with that feeling of, Well we’re fucking broke anyway, what’s another twenty dollars in the longrun? I know I’m being Captain Obvious with this, but this is NOT the way to run your finances, unless your agenda is running them straight into the ground.
While I enjoy eating out as much as anyone, we rarely, RARELY do it. He could care less about it and when you’re on a budget like we’ve been on for months, food is the easiest thing to control. It takes a little planning and effort, but it can be done -we are living proof you can be poor as sewer rats and still eat very well. It helps that both of us take an interest in cooking and really enjoy doing it. I don’t think Mrs. Redneck is that into it and that makes it more difficult to stick to. But seriously – it’s worth trying. I’m just happy they’re finally realizing it and doing something about it.
The one sucky thing about him going back to a regular schedule is the alarm going off at ass-crack thirty every morning, a full hour before I need to get up. The past two days I’ve gotten up with him then went back to sleep then overslept then was late to work. Total fuckery, because that forty-five minutes is the best sleep I get all night. But I think I’ve worked out a new plan I’m going to try starting tomorrow (Heather was the lucky recipient of that email) – I’ll still get up with him but instead of going back to bed like a lazy whore, I’ll use that time to exercise. Here I’ve been cheering Johnann on for going to the gym every morning for months, saying stuff like “People who work out in the morning have a better success rate!” and “I always feel better when I’m working out.” And watching The Biggest Loser every week (finale tonight, woo!) and having the 30-Day Shred and my cute little stepper machine sitting there collecting dust and not fitting into half my clothes and bitching about it but doing nothing about it – God! Enough already! I know from experience the hardest part about starting a routine is the starting part. After awhile it becomes habit like anything else and before you know it, you feel weird if you DON’T do it every day. I’m looking forward to that.