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.

Le sigh...

I haven't written in a long time and I do so want to write. This is absolutely not the time to be doing so as I have to work in less than an hour but my brain is melting and my heart hurts so much. My world has opened up in front of me and there are so many possible avenues. I can see it clearly and it's just beyond my reach.

I have always been a jack of all trades and master of none. I like it that way. I get bored do easily and want to move on to the next thing to keep my brain from atrophying. This is generally not the best way to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.

My heart lives in creativity. My soul needs to create.

With the departure of my favourite co-worker - the one who kept me looking forward to each week of work - I have new responsibilities. Creating purchase orders. Just one more thing outside of my comfort zone, in a department with too low an employee to customer ratio. One more thing there isn't enough time to get done. One more reason to feel like my job is killing me.

I spent my weekend, again, in the Big-City. My days off have become days of driving. With hubby medically unable to drive and working down island (oh yeah, he's working again... for the past couple of weeks) I have become chauffeur extraordinaire. I use my down time in drawing and thinking. This weekend, though, I was an interior designer... and I liked it. Picking colours and tiles and counter-tops and, and, and... It was fun. I was bouncy and bubbly.

And now I have to go back in to ten dollars an hour and ungrateful customers... and no favourite co-worker.

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...

What I want and why I (tell myself) I can't have it, followed by the reason my reason is stupid...

1. I want a more muscular physique.
a) I don't have time.
b) I wake every morning a couple of hours before my family so I can do my computer stuff without neglecting anyone.

2. I want to get a handle on my depression.
a) It is a mental disorder that I have no control over.
b) Spending hours online when I could be living makes me blue.

3. I want to be a better mom and wife.
a) I'm so tired when I get home, all I want to do is sit for a while.
b) Sitting 'for a while' doesn't constitute hours on facebook, getting annoyed when I'm interrupted. There's no reason I can't sit for a while on the couch with my daughter and husband while we talk about our discoveries of the day.

4. I want to go back to school, take a few courses.
a) I don't want to graduate from the institution with a huge debt hanging over my head.
b) Yeah, and living from paycheque to paycheque is a barrel of monkeys. Going into debt over the electric bill, with no hope of improvement is so much better than a student loan (and the potential job that will help pay it off).



Okay, I'm kind of stuck there. My shoulder hurts and I want to get ready for my day.
(can you believe it's been almost a month?!!)

Wishing you, yes you, a fantabulous day!

Pee-ess: I don't think I made a note yesterday or the day before so I will now. Wolf passed out twice on Thursday and once yesterday. it would seem to me that things are continuing to escalate. What else are you "almost positive" about, Doctor God?!

Ninja fast 2...

Last night I made sure everything was set for my 'Monday'-back-to-work day. I brought my bedding and alarm clock back from the spare room, set it all back up. I even made my lunch and filled water bottles. Well, I cannot tell you how glad I am that I was so prepared. I may have made everything ready but I neglected one small but integral step in the process. I didn't switch my alarm on.

Something else I am tremendously grateful for, since creating a (heaven forbid) schedule, is that I sleep precisely eight hours a night. Although I went to sleep a bit late last night, I was only off by an hour. That gave me plenty of time to get out the door this morning... y'know, as long as you consider twenty minutes to be plenty of time.

I made it, though. I made it to work on time. I made it through my open-front-end tasks with almost 10 minutes to spare. I made it through my first day back. These are all milestones for me.

Part of my history, when I get around to typing it all up, includes a pretty black depression. Since I started working outside of the home, again, that depression (which I had very well in hand) has come calling. It doesn't stay for very long when it visits but it has been showing up more regularly, lately. And it doesn't even call first! Can you believe the audacity? Mental illness is so rude!

And now, a bath. Later, I sleep. Hopefully, in the not so distant future, I'll have less on my brain. My posts should be a little lighter under those conditions.