Day Eight - Dragging...

Sadness is pulling me under.  I've been fighting it, giving it all I have for a couple of months.  Today, it's almost too much.

Stress, right?  We all have it.  We all soldier through life's ups and downs.  Sometimes, though, there just doesn't seem to be quite enough up to balance out the down.

So, I'm going to keep this short.  Misery may love company but I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

Have a peaceful night.

Whew.

When life is a bit calmer I'll write. I'm sure I've said that before. The thing is, I avoid writing when things are messed up because I refused to let this become a whine blog, like my last one, filled to the top with negativity, depression and drama. The thing is, the farther I get from my last post, the more I find myself thinking about how funny the story has been - drama included - and wish I had kept up a running commentary of the whole thing!

Examples?

• My last entry found me packing a three bedroom house. Not too big a deal aside from the sheer volume of crap that a family can accumulate over the course of a few years. The challenge was that we were moving into a very small space for a few months. We needed to decide what we could live without for a while and what was truly necessary for survival. Hahaha. That was(n't) so funny.
  
• The small space we were moving into was a 28' trailer (with a pop-out) situated in our neighbours driveway and across the street from where I was packing.
• The trailer was not a winter unit which meant we were wiping condensation off the windows and walls everyday in order to control a potential mildew problem.
  
• In the time we were in the trailer, Wolf and I got the dreaded H1N1 and lived to tell about it. Kitten remained perfectly healthy during this time and revelled in her role as caregiver.
• We ended up in that trailer from October 31st until sometime in the first week of March; I can't precisely remember because February 14th marked the first day of The Great ClusterF**k, and I've been a little crazier ever since.

• The Great ClusterF**k deserves a bullet of its own. (Maybe even an indent, but I don't have that option with blogger and I don't remember any HTML.) It all started with an innocent phone call... (cue flashback) Things were getting lean in the work department. We were driving toward the exit of our local grocery store parking lot when Wolf hollered at me to "follow that gold car!" I did. Thankfully, the driver of the gold car wasn't going far. He pulled into a space one lot over at which point Wolf leapt from the truck to say 'Hi.' The point to this minor stalking was to get a phone number from the driver of the gold car. Apparently, Wolf used to work with gold-car-driver's son and had begun a deal (years ago) to change the roof-ling on the guy's house. In under a week, we were in business together. The plan: He's leasing a house in town and has been renting out his house which is on the lake. We'll move into his house for reduced rent while we work with him and while we renovate his house. His house has a hot tub, a pool and a generator which will run the whole house, water features included, in the event of power outage!
  
• New plan: His house was trashed by the previous renters. We'll move into the place he's leasing in town. It's in "The Properties." (Yes, that is as pretentious as it sounds). The rent will be higher but we'll still work with him and help him renovate his house.
  
• New plan: We'll move into his trailer and stay on the property. He'll stay in his house and break the lease on the house in town. It'll be cheaper for all concerned which'll put more money into the business. Don't worry, the trailer's way bigger than the one we were in; it's 38'!!

It was about that point where I snapped.

• Okay. New plan: We'll take over the lease in town, he'll live in his house.... I stopped listening. I decided that there was nothing beyond This Moment. I planned nothing. I answered no questions. I ventured no opinions. I had no thoughts of my own, beyond my own actions. When Wolf asked, "So, what do you think?" I said, "Just tell me what's happening and I'll do it." It was both ugly and cathartic.

Funny, hey?

At some point I'll tell you about the house and where this adventure has taken us, so far, but now I have to sleep. I have to work in the morning and get Kitten to Cartooning class and Marimba. Thanks be for other homeschooling families and the possibility of impromptu, week-night sleepovers!
Amen!

On news, theme songs and living two lives…

Well hello there.

I never wanted this to become another defunct blog. Just thought I’d put that out there. I keep telling myself that I’ll write regularly when things settle down. The problem with that thought process is that things never really settle down. It’s all just various levels of busy.

Our latest busy-ness is in the form of another long term house guest. He arrived a week ago, yesterday, and so far it’s been relatively good. We have the consistent challenges - you know, the ones which present regardless of the visitor. Things like privacy, changes in routine, toilet seat tension and extra expenses. With this particular guest there are a few more things to think about.

This guest is a long standing friend of Wolf’s. This guest, who always had turbulent mood swings, has very recently been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. This guest has spent a couple of weeks, twice, (from February to March of this year) in the hospital for suicide attempts. This guest flew out to the island about two weeks after his latest attempt.

….

….

I find myself stuck. There is no more to say about it besides my own stress about the whole thing. He is medicated. He is not yet level. Oh, and in August, his girlfriend will arrive, too. They met in the hospital.

On a lighter and more intriguing note, the members of my little family each have their own theme songs. Since she was about three years old, Kitten’s been singing The Imperial March while she plays. Wolf, who has recently rented all of the movies, fills our ears with the theme to Superman. Mine? Like, since I was a kid? Embarrassingly enough, my background music is the Mexican Hat Dance. Ole!

There. Now you know.


My work week. My weekend. I’ve often felt like I was two people. Nothing to be concerned about, mind you, just the me-that’s-at-my-best and the me-that's-falling-apart. Now, I have Work me. The cool thing is that work me tends to supersede falling apart me, more or less. I mean, I have I’m-really-sick-of-this-shit-but-will-keep-gritting-my-teeth-and-smiling Work me, but the point is the smile remains. Mostly.

Weekdays are for work. That’s all I have room for. Work and a little bit of family because my hours are so crappy. Weekends are for art, but art takes so much time. It takes time for me to settle into the zone, to see what my next step should be. I can still work when I’m low. I struggle with art, even the idea of art, when I’m low. I hate that I have to allot so much time to my work life when I find it almost completely unsatisfying and my paycheque sucks. I hate that I exchange eighty hours for $630. I hate that, without Wolf’s income (which is up in August), we would have about $136 left over after paying rent. Per month.

And I’m not overly keen on having become ‘just like everyone else.’


I’ve had a tough week. I’m ready for my big break. Hey Universe, are you listening?

It's all big stuff...

I've had a lot to think about, lately. The best way for me to break it down would be chronologically, I think.

First, as you may have been able to glean from my last post, I went out and got a touch blotto... for the first time in over a year. It took all of 4 drinks.

I had been invited to attend 'Girls' night out' by a couple of my co-workers and though I didn't want to go, I had already blown off several invites and thought it prudent to make an appearance, if nothing more. So, it was just us, the ladies. For the first time in over a year I was out, on my weekend, without Wolf. I had already decided I wasn't going to drink but my friend handed me her vodka/lime to sip and my thirst was on.

• Back-story: I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome. For the last year and a half of my drinking years I would get the nastiest gut pains starting about a half hour from ingesting the first sip of whatever I was imbibing. I took this as a sign that it was time for me to back off a little. It took the 1.5 years to confirm my suspicions... and to let go of my favourite vice.

I think the first thing I noticed was that my gut didn't hurt. That was definitely a pleasant surprise which, obviously, precipitated another drink. By the end of the night, I still had no pain. I did, however, have the dawning of an ugly realization. I am a self-righteous bitch. But only when I'm not looking.

Wolf has always been a drinker. He never had a problem with it. As long as I was binging, I didn't mind either. But there came a time when alcohol became an issue for me and at the point that I could no longer deny that, it began hurting me. Well, with me no longer drinking I was better able to judge his drinking. How very convenient. This very judgement was fed and nurtured within me until last Monday. Eww.

Being who I am, I analyzed this to it's smallest detail and, once home, told Wolf all about it. I apologized for my self indulgent behaviour to which I was treated to the most relieved, sweet smile from my love. It really was amazing. The whole thing was amazing. I mean, I don't have the urge to spend my weekends plastered, thank God, and my feelings have changed regarding Wolf's occasional night with the boys. I know there will likely still be work to do to prevent me from slipping back into my old habit, but I'm up for that.

Next, Wolf had his neurologist appointment. The good doctor confirmed epilepsy, probably caused by Wolf's massive head injury. The back of his skull, travelling just below 60 km/h (about 37 m/h), met a curb. The doctor said that within two weeks Wolf would be called in for a cerebral angiogram. Hopefully the test will reveal the scar tissue on his brain and that the removal of said tissue is possible. They will also look at his aneurysm to see about taking care of that, too. Cleansing breath...

The 'third' thing that I'm working on is a new life. I have always been an 'artist.' I've know what I can do with a pencil, given the time and patience, and that I would love to make it a living. I know that my potential has not really showed in the bits and pieces of art that I have put on display. For the past week or so, I've been working on a portrait of one of my co-workers. Did I say that already? Well, If so, sorry about the repetition. My point is, I've shown the incomplete drawing to several people and each of them has asked what I will charge for my service. I've never had a clue. How does one put a price on something like this? What if the price is too much, or too little. How would I correct that, after the fact, for others without being totally unfair?!

Well, I was told, based on the info I had to date (it's taken me about 6-8 hours so far, I'm about half done...) that a picture this size, with this amount of detail, I could/should be charging about $450. It throws me and I think, "Really?" I'm timid about the whole thing, looking at the possibilities and daring to wonder - no, to dream that it might be possible. Wow. Really?

I guess I'm daring to dream... Now, I just need to finish the thing and get it 'out there.'

And, finally, my most recent lesson came today. I have linked my despair directly and irrefutably to anxiety. I awoke with a headache and immediately thought about this being the last day of my weekend. My mind took me to work tomorrow morning, and I was standing behind my till. I shook it off pretty quickly but my chest was a bit tight and I was instantly antsy. I managed to 'forget' the whole thing is pretty short order but I did become quiet. Wolf kept asking me what was wrong, and nothing was wrong. I was just quiet. And not hungry. And withdrawn.

Kitten was trying to tell us about her dream and one of Wolf's favourite things to do is pester the hell out of people. Every few words that Kitten would get out, Wolf would ask a question or link her words to a quote... whatever. Well, I was trying to re-engage with my family when Kitten said, "and there were these mountains and a river was winding between them..." when I smiled at her and said, "A river runs through it, which is the name of a movie." Well, my timing was off because I guess that was her breaking point. She just looked at me, eyes widened like I was the biggest betrayer, ever. Then her lips pinched shut and she turned to her breakfast without a word. I said I was sorry, and Wolf poked a little more. Well, I was done. I screwed up (which, when I'm at my best is a hard pill to swallow. At my worst, I shouldn't be permitted the care of a goldfish, let alone a child!) and had to leave the room.

As we all know, kids are far more resilient that we often give them credit for. Within minutes, she was knocking on my door, asking if she could finish the telling of her dream. I said yes and all was well. Except me. I crashed. Hard.

I realized that I wasn't trying to engage with my family for my sake. I know that when the ocean is turbulent, I need to just ride the wave. The less I fight, the quicker I reach solid ground. I know my limitations when I'm in that place. I know damned well that to deny my feeling is dangerous. And now I know that to deny my feelings, even when I think I'm helping others, is to hurt them as well as myself.

Biggies, all. Whoo-ee. And, as usual, the universe throws stuff at me when it's most pertinent. This morning, just before the emotional shit hit the fan, I saw this picture:




Thank you...

Perfectionist in the Kitchen.

I used to be a slob. If I didn't see it, I didn't have to clean it. Out of sight, out of mind. 'I need to eat? I'll wash a pot and a plate... or maybe I'll just eat out of the pot. Yeah, that's easier.'

I used to be professionally unemployed. 'Too much stress. I don't fit in the world. I'm too depressed. I don't function the same way as others."

I used to cook as little as possible. Everything I made tasted exactly the same as the only seasonings I'd use were garlic powder, onion powder, soy sauce and, maybe, salt. I had no love for food. As long as it was edible, it was fine. It would keep me from starving. I mean, is that not the purpose of food, really?


I have a new-found love for clean, clutter free spaces. Working in somewhat cramped quarters with up to two other people in the same tiny area has shown me, first hand, how important it is to put everything in its place.

Speaking of work, I am and have been for almost five months. I've only held two jobs for longer than this one. One was with a family member and the other will not be spoken of, here. Five days a week I wake up and get ready. Five days a week I go in to the store where I bide my time until the end of my shift. I arrive on time, to a place that goes against many of my ideals, and spend eight hours with some of the funniest people I have ever met in a place where I almost fit. Often I have to battle my way through the days. I battle tears and despair -- this is not the life I wanted. Sometimes, though, I look forward to my day and it flies by.

I still have no love of food. Don't get me wrong, I truly appreciate a tasty meal and I finally know a little something about what that means. Wolf is a genius in the kitchen. I have learned, over the past almost seven years what good food tastes like and I would love, on one hand, to be able to produce such meals. I just tend to get a little stressed and flustered. Then, the F*ck-Up rears her ugly head and it's all a wash. The F*ck-Up, for the record, is my sixteen year old self who is a complete basket case who "can't do anything!!"

So, make me clean and I'll take a toothbrush to corners and a razor blade to crusted on grossness. I'll scrub toilets and bathtubs and make everything shiny and spotless. Sent me out to work and I'll bring in a much needed and appreciated paycheque. I'll go against my nature and do my best to work through my shit. I'll go above and beyond anything I have accomplished so far in my life, but please, please don't make me cook!!!

Illness, illness everywhere, nor any time to drink...

My phone rang last night just before ten o'clock. I griped, silently, all the way to the kitchen wondering who in their right mind would call at such an hour. I even answered the phone with all of the sleepy voiced drama I could muster.

It was my dearest friend, Lynn*, calling with news about her son.

I'm so sorry I woke you but Cody* is not okay.

What does 'not okay' mean?

He's had a lot of chest pain and he's been passing out lately. He was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect.

Okay, so what does that that mean, break it down for me. Details.

It means that we're lucky he's alive. We're lucky he quit soccer-- the doctors don't know why he's been okay up 'til now. They can operate to fix it but Cody is terrified. He won't do it. He said he'll never do anything for the rest of his life; he'll hang out and not ride his bike and never take the stairs...

There was more conversation but it's all more than I feel needs to be here. Cody is going to be 16 next month.

I'm sending out a request for prayers and/or positive energy ... wherever you find your hope, dig in and send some their way, please.


My own update? Wolf's on a drug which has kept him either sleeping or wanting to be, since Wednesday. His next appt with Doc God is Tuesday and I'm hoping there will be honest account made of the side effects. True, Wolf hasn't passed out since he began this med, but it hasn't been a week yet, and that was his usual time between episodes. If he goes this week without falling down, then maybe they want to reduce the dosage? I don't know.

I'm tired. My brain is off in a million directions and I can't seem to keep a though long enough to get it typed out to completion.

*Names changed, of course, to protect the family's privacy.

Technological advancement, my icy cold ass...

Is it just me or does this happen to everyone who has tremendous disorganizational skills and a habit of misplaced confidence, self or otherwise?

Here’s the situation. I decided, toward the end of my last weekend, that I would use this weekend to find all my drawings, scan them to my laptop, fix up whatever might need it and upload the lot of it to deviantArt. Well, this weekend is here and, of course, I waited until almost one o’clock to get started. Piece o’cake, I’m thinking.

Now, I’ve known me all my life which should be plenty of time to learn that any time I’m sure something will work, it won’t. Not easily, anyway.

Into the longroom* I go. That's where our desk top PC and printer/scanner resides. First and foremost, it’s absolutely freezing in there. We have electric heat and no money so unnecessary** rooms go without both. Second, the mouse is neither hooked up to the computer, nor is it in the same room for that matter. It’s a good thing I’m a whizz with keyboard shortcuts. Then it occurs to me that I really don’t want to sit in an icy room, keyboarding my way through various programs and why don’t I just hook up the all-in-one to my laptop? After all, I downloaded the printer drivers last month! Off goes the PC, which takes 10 minutes as it’s a dinosaur, and in comes my laptop for scanner hook up.

Back to drivers. Yes, printer drivers. My laptop recognizes the Lexmark printer (and fax, for some odd reason) but not the scanner. Not in my program menu, not anywhere. After spending 20 minutes looking for the correct download, online, my toes are numb and my hands hurt.

I go get the mouse.

It is now 3:05 pm and I’m praying. I‘m praying that the CD-RW in our PC will work for me just one more time. I have to be able to get the pictures off the ancient beast and onto my laptop. I’m praying that the disk with the pictures will be readable by my laptop.

* * * * * * * * *

Flash forward. After scanning all of my drawings, I attempted to burn the jpegs to disk. The disk went in and was read by the by the writer. The file folder containing the images dragged-and-dropped beautifully, but do you think the writer would write? No, it wouldn't. Well, it just so happens I have two MSN messenger (ooh, I must be old if I'm still calling it by that name) profiles. I signed in on each computer using the two aliases and sent all the pictures to myself. All 40 of them. One at a time.

The whole thing took just under an hour, by which time my hands were stiff, my toes were numb and my nose had a nasty case of winter-drip. I shut down the dinosaur with the same satisfaction one might feel when ridding the house of a destructive rat .

Then it happened. I realized that I had missed one drawing(my best piece, in my opinion) and became somewhat demonstrative in my frustration. Hearing my uproar, Wolf entered the room with concern and caution his in every movement. After I explained the situation, he smiled with relief and said, "Here, leave it with me. I'll hook up my lapto... Oh baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"What...?" It came out of my mouth, less as a question than a threat.

"Open your search - here..." at which point he showed me - on my laptop which was perched on one arm while I held in my other hand the file folder filled with my drawings. It would appear that typing 'scanners' into the search field (Vista) while connected to the scanner would have opened the magic and invisible door that divides the two pieces of hardware.

Hmm.

Imagine that.

Thankfully I was way too cold to be really miffed. I said 'thank you' and 'I know it for next time' and 'no, it's perfectly okay.'

So, I still don't have that last piece scanned but I did manage to get a few things uploaded, categorized and tagged, over at deviantArt. Nothing is 'sale-worthy' in my opinion, until I can correct the 'black=blue' language of my sensorily challenged scanner. Feel free to have a look anyway. That is what it's there for (as my stomach flips nervously).

Have I mentioned that I rarely show my art to my family, let alone the good people of the limitless interweb? Be gentle but please, please be honest. If I'm to make a go of this, I need honest reviews.

*Longroom: the 15X25’ room on the end of our house. It was supposed to be the studio/craft/sewing room but has become cold storage.

**The room had been made somewhat obsolete with the arrival of our laptops, last year.

Survival...

It turns out that the difference between a lousy day and a good one can be co-workers. My first and second days in paint were spent with a couple of co-workers, neither of them teacher-types. Now, in all fairness, my supervisor is up to her ears in flooring stuff as we just lost one of our two flooring staff but her method if teaching doesn't fit well with my method of learning. Her sage words of advice can be summed up thus: "Take some time to walk around the dept reading labels. That's how I learned." And then, she left for the flooring dept.

...

The other staff person, also not teacher material, is quite quiet. She speaks only if necessary and, even then, comes across as having little confidence in what she's saying. I would get tiny snippets of 'how-to' and 'where.' I'm a touch dynamic by nature and neither of these ways of learning were even close to active enough for my brain.

I spent the day making sure the prices in our computers matched up with the bin label and sticker prices. I made sure that products were lined up with their correct shelf labels. I tinted a couple of gallons of paint... I did learn, but had no idea how much. I needed to be able to ask questions. I needed to learn more, not wander aimlessly, practising what I already knew. The days were long and I felt totally useless.

On day three my salvation walked in. In this case, it took the form of a down to earth, vibrant transplant from the UK. He's just as energetic of mind as am I. He welcomes me as I follow him around, learning from his dealings with customers. He showed me where we keep the overstock!!! Well, most of it. He gave me reasons why certain products were necessary, why the steadfast priming rules don't always apply and how to decided when to overlook them, and broke down the properties of specific products so it all made sense. I need the 'why,' not just the 'use.'

In that third shift I learned more than I had the two before. We even had plenty of head space to discuss spirituality, our 'past lives' and how we've become who we are, politics... It was so very awesome.

And this all brings us to my three-hours-by-myself-in-the-paint-dept-with-only-three-and-a-half-days-worth-of-experience shift, heh.

I won't lie. I was scared out of my mind. All my usual crutches (read: staff members who continuously bail my ass out when I have no idea the answer to a customer question) were gone and I knew I was likely facing three hours without a break. I've gotten kind of used to having a breather ever two hours. In fact, I have relied on it!

Well, I did it. I was overwhelmed a time or two and I made decisions and moved forward - without help. It was painfully quiet so I had quality time with the customers who did come in. I worked it out. When I couldn't work it out, I used the phone numbers that were left for me. I was calm. I tinted five gallons and two quarts of paint, helped a couple with their stain/varnish issue, found the right product for use with polystyrene... It was amazing.

And, suddenly, I quite love my job. I mean, to the point where I've decided to work part time even if my percolating ideas come to fruition.

I always find it amusing when my whole outlook changes,pendulum-like, in less than 12 hours.

Things I saw, heard or otherwise experienced at work yesterday...

I saw my new co-worker spend half an hour making two tins of paint look like two paint chips, by eye and with the the wrong base paint (need this last part to make more sense? Let me know and I'll explain), all at the customers behest.

I was asked what my interest was in the paint dept as I couldn't be pictured to (ever) have had a paint brush in hand. When I replied, citing my year of experience painting in a new-home construction setting, I was asked "was that before or after modelling paint products."

I saw a shrink-wrapped yard-man trying to look nonchalant when I unexpectedly interrupted their fun-time.

I had a brilliant discussion on spirituality and personal growth.

I said "SILENCE! I kill you!" into a speaker phone during business hours.

I helped a few people, by.my.self!!!, and learned so much more!

So, I will concede that this is not the job from hell, therefore I will not kill myself just yet. I will update after this coming shift, wherein I will spend the last 3 hours of the day completely alone in my department, armed only with far-too-little-knowledge and a list of phone numbers that I can call "If (I) need anything at all..."

My mother gave me some stuff to think about. I'm thinking about it.


My place of employment has a no-cell-phone policy. Not only do I blatantly disregard this policy, I told my team-lead, floor manager and store manager that the policy didn't apply to me. With Wolf's health the way it is and he being a house-husband and home-schooler to our kidlet, I want Kitten to have a easy way to reach me in case of emergency. I didn't want her to have to call work and have me paged to 'line 101,' so to speak. That's too much work for a panicked almost-eleven-year-old. Generally, the only incoming calls I get are from home so my phone has become 'for emergencies only!'

I didn't realize that my phone was off until almost half way through my shift today. When I saw the blank screen, I started to shake. I turned it on, all the while wondering if there was going to be a voice-mail waiting. I envisioned all the possibilities through the eyes of terror. Being the good employee that I am, I couldn't call home until my lunch break. And everything was fine.

Wolf's doctor said he's 'almost positive' it isn't Wolf's brain that's the issue. Almost positive. I told Wolf I wanted that in writing so I could sue his ass back to the stone age in the event that his confidence is once again misplaced.

And now I'm going to get to the business at hand. I'm home for the weekend and I've a family that I've missed terribly this week.

Something's gotta give...

I overslept again. I only lost a half hour which is a good thing, and my shift didn't start until 9 am. A week of sleeplessness is beginning to take its toll and if I don't sleep tonight, I fear that I'll be totally useless tomorrow. I've a 6:30 am start time and the only happiness I can glean from this resides in the fact that tomorrow is my Friday. One more day, that's all. One more day and that day ends at 3 pm.

We need the break, all of us. Wolf hasn't had a decent night's sleep since last Sunday and his health is declining rapidly. I'm trying to avoid spending too much energy in fear but it's turning out to be harder than I can manage, right now. I am fearful by nature - anxiousness bordering on paranoid - and lack of sleep makes everything worse.

*Sigh*

I'm feeling a little bit tangled and unable to concentrate. My mother just left a message on my voice mail. I should probably return the call. It's been close to a month since we last spoke and that's not really okay.

Hopefully tomorrow will prove to be a touch easier...