Of Blogs and Habits

I'm a sporadic blogger. I've come to this conclusion many times over the last decade. While we were on vacation last week I brainstormed things that could help me blog on a more regular basis. 

• Write a series of posts on a single topic, where I sit down and write all the posts at once and schedule them out one per week.
• Post daily gratitudes and a picture representing the gratitudes. 
• Blog about the book I'm currently reading - as in blog my reactions to the book, kind of like live tweeting during a TV show.
• Link to interesting websites/blogs/articles I've read and share why I thought they were interesting
• Do nothing and blog sporadically and never really develop my blog beyond what it is

I love all these ideas, especially the last one since it doesn't require any changes on my part. However, I also know my weaknesses and ever since I've quit my job my internal locus of control has been AWOL. Even if I use my calendar to schedule tasks, I have become very good at ignoring them.

That said, if I'm going to make any type of money as a writer I need to make peace with deadlines and task lists. Earlier this summer I brushed off my Pomodoro Technique notes and purchased a timer for my iPad. This has been helpful for focusing on writing in twenty-five minute sprints. I used to do #1k1h drills where the goal is to write 1000 words in an hour. That worked great when I had an hour lunch break at work and wanted to get in some writing. It's not as doable now. The dog won't let me focus for more than about 25 minutes at a time. 

So maybe I need to take my Pomodoros and organize my tasks into 25 minute buckets and use my timer. And offer myself rewards for making task goals as well as writing/publishing goals. Hmmm, maybe. 

And all of this is a way to say I hope to be blogging more often! Don't get too excited. ;-)

Gratitudes:

1. My laptop, which continues to plug along with no issues even though she is almost five years old. 
2. Crisply flavored green tea, the perfect early autumn afternoon beverage.
3. My dentist. He's gentle and kind and funny and I adore him!

Photo by Jussi Linkola via Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

You May Hate Me After This Post, And That's Okay

Content Warning: I'm about to get political. And emotional. And voice strong opinions. You've been warned.

I've been writing this post since January 22nd. I've debated posting it. I've tried to tone down my very strong opinions. In the end, I had to speak because to remain silent, well, it just isn't an option.

I try to not be political on FB. Everyone has the right to their opinions and beliefs. And that's fine when we can all respect each other and have empathy and compassion and an openness to understand. But I see so many people legitimately fearing for their safety and even their lives. That does not come from a society where there is respect and compassion and empathy.

I'm white. I'm a Christian. I have tremendous privilege because of these two things. I am female so I don't have the same privilege as white males. I have chronic illness. And I am fat so I also do not have the same privilege as white women who are healthy and don't carry a lot of extra weight, but I still have a hell of a lot of privilege I didn't earn.

Many of my friends do not have the same privilege. They are black or brown or LGBTQI+ or disabled or Muslim or Jewish or Pagan or atheists or agnostics. Or some combination of of these. They have been living marginalized lives, even if that marginalization is difficult to see. In a country where value is placed heavily on specific race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, and a very specific standard of health, how could anyone who does not fall into the "norm" not be marginalized?

We who are privileged often pat ourselves on the backs when something is done to make life better for those who are marginalized. And often we do so with arrogance. Even ignorance. This post isn't about privilege and what is broken in white Christian privilege. But this plays a part in what I'm about to voice next. Why? Because all we have done since the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s is apply bandages to the ever increasing problems of racism, sexism, misogyny, homomisia, sectarianism, etc. These issues have not been resolved. If anything, this election and the machinations of the current White House and Congress have not only shown us the cracks in our society, it has blown them wide open for the entire world to see.

I did not vote for Trump. I'm not a citizen so I can't vote. But I would not have voted for Trump. My view is not just political or just about how government is run. It's because Trump is a man who is vile. Yes, I said it, vile. He does not love truth or honesty. How could I vote for someone who seemingly celebrates the exact opposite of the teachings of Jesus?

I heard the hate he was spouting during the campaign. I saw the rise of something I consider ugly at his rallies. I saw fear tip into hate and hate tip into something even more dangerous. But I hoped people would see the man and not the rhetoric and would not be complicit in putting such a person in the role of President.

Then I realized all my hopes were in vain. Because of white evangelicals. More specifically white women who identify as evangelicals (and don't get me started on American evangelicalism). Because it was more important to ensure an imaginary judge would be appointed to the supreme court in order to overturn the right to a safe and legal abortion. Because it was more important to bring a religious belief system even more deeply into government. Because apparently morality needs to be legislated based on "Christian" beliefs. Because racism is so deeply rooted it's a systemic issue. Because sexism is rampant in many white Christian circles. Rampant among white Christian women, not just men. Because pointing the finger at someone else as the cause of why I'm unhappy is the great American past time.

When my marginalized friends tell me they are more afraid now than before the election, I try to listen and understand. I haven't lived a marginalized life so I need to shut up and just listen to their fears, their stories, their anger. And draw upon empathy and learn to see the world through their eyes. We who are privileged need to do this. It's not enough to sit back and comment from our computers or couches or churches. We need to step out. And step up.

I saw this during the Women's March on January 21st. Women, and men, of all colors, ethnicities, sexual orientations joining together to protest against misogyny and hate. Not all men are bad. But this country is legislated and run primarily by men. White men. Women NEED to have a seat at the table when it comes to reproductive rights, to equal pay, to ending sexual harassment.

But more than that, we need to shut up so we can hear the stories of the marginalized. And we need to step aside so they can step in. We shouldn't be the white saviour who makes the world a better place for everyone. We aren't the answer. We are part of the damn problem. White women get in the way of black women, of brown women. White people get in the way of black people, of brown people. Able bodied people stomp over the rights of the disabled and chronically ill. Heterosexuals often belittle the plight of those who identify as LGBTQI+.

Why does my voice matter more than yours? It shouldn't. Just as my life experience shouldn't invalidate yours. My religious views should not run roughshod over your own. My privilege shouldn't take away from you.

It's going to take years to get this right. There is a lot wrong with this country. A lot of systemic issues that we need to take a look at. Apologize for. Change. Fears that are going to take decades of us trying to do things right, failing, and trying again before people can start to believe things are going to be different.

But we need to start. Congress and the White House, those people work for us. For we the people. We can't forget that. So continue to call, to march, to resist if you don't agree with what is taking place. That goes for local government as well.

And if you are sitting back and think the direction our politicians are taking us in is fine, that all these people who are pushing back are crazy, take a moment and listen before you pass judgment. Really listen. Set aside your ego, your beliefs, your own fears and listen. And don't let shame or guilt or anger keep you from listening deeply.

We've all screwed things up. Now we need to own it and work to make restitution and seek reconciliation. Isn't that what Christians are supposed to do?

Gratitudes:

1. Patricia Briggs, whose husband Mike passed away unexpectedly in January. She is touring for her new book despite this. You are brave and kind and loved, Patty! Admired even. I'm so sorry for your loss. Nothing can replace Mike. And nothing should.
2. Sunshine. 
3. Time to heal, as healing quite often takes time. 

Photo by Liz Lemon

Psych, Fibromyalgia, and Pain Mitigation

 Gratitudes:

1. Green tea lattes. Nuf said.
2. Fresh spring flowers in the middle of September. 
3. Two more days to finish binge watching Psych on US Netflix. 

It's a cool, grey, autumnal day here and Velcro Dog and I enjoyed a brief walk at the dog park. He walked. I read. It's a great system for the two of us. And no, I don't just read. I walk as well. Just not as many laps as Velcro Dog. I can read, and he can't. Don't judge!

What do you mean, Psych is going away? No!!!!!!!!!

We also did some snuggling while watching Psych. The poor dog is distraught at the thought that we won't be able to watch his favorite TV show ever again. He loves Lassiter and secretly has a thing for Shawn's mom. He doesn't think I know this, but it's obvious from the way his eyes get all dewy when he looks at her.  Shhh, don't tell him, but I have plans to purchase said show so we can enjoy it whenever we desire. That's me, a giver. 

Today also marks two weeks into a new medication for my fibromyalgia (FM). It's cutting edge stuff and several people I know who have tried it have great things to say. Some have reported significant results. I was hoping for some of these dramatic results for myself.  Sadly that hasn't been the case. Instead of a near miraculous recovery, little things have been changing. I had to take a breath, reign in my expectations, and instead of looking for the big changes, I needed to look for any changes. 

I am usually tired all the time. While this has not changed, I find the fog that accompanies the fatigue is occasionally better. Especially in the afternoons. While I wish the fatigue would lift, I'll take a positive change in fibro fog. 

Pain has been my constant companion for, oh, around thirty years. Sure, there's and ebb and flow to the pain. Different flavors for different seasons. But it's always been there, watching. Waiting. There was a t-shirt making the rounds on Facebook a few weeks ago. The shirt was black and on the back were these words: This Shirt Turns Black Whenever I Am In Pain. This awesome black t-shirt speaks for me. 

With this new medication, I'm still in a lot of pain, but I'm having moments where the pain doesn't spike as high or stretch out for as long. Moments, mind you. But I'll take them. 

It's only been two weeks and it's only minute changes, but I've lived with this pain for over half my life. And it's gotten worse in the last few years. I'll take minute changes for the better over worse any day. Especially if eventually I can buy a t-shirt like the one above in a color other than black. 

Taxes: If They Don't Bleed You Dry, They May Kill You

 Gratitudes:

1. Warm, fuzzy robes that I can snuggle in when I'm not feeling my best. 
2. Instacart. Because sometimes getting groceries myself is too much to handle. 
3. Professionals who take care of figuring out my taxes.

It's tax season. Every year I proclaim that I will have my shit together by the beginning of February and every year we end up waiting until the end of February to get our information to our accountant because we end up waiting on documentation from third parties. Every. Year. 

This year is no different. Added to my normal tax time anxiety is the fact that last year we cashed in some investments. It was always the plan to cash these in. And it was understood that we may owe taxes due to the cashing in of these investments. That's fine, we have money set aside for just such a situation. 

What is amping up my anxiety is the fact that one one of the 1099s we have from mutual funds we have owned since 2005 is missing vital information. Such as purchase dates and purchase costs. Uh......didn't the brokerage house retain this information? Apparently not. We no longer use this brokerage house, but I have been in regular contact with our previous agent regarding this and some other inconsistencies. I'm not happy. I'm almost sick to my stomach.

So I have to dig through all the year end statements for these investments and attempt to match up the information found there to the information on the 1099. I will be sending ALL this information to our accountant along with my findings. I will also be biting my nails and worrying until she has prepared our information and we submit it to the government. 

I hate taxes. I don't begrudge the government it's fair share of our income. We live here. We enjoy benefits the government pays for or maintains. That comes out of tax money. What I hate are the mysterious tax codes and the changes that occur every year. I hate that if one mistake is made, one honest mistake, our financial history may be called under scrutiny. I have nothing to hide. I just don't like the idea of someone taking that deep a look into my life. 

Taxes. Ugh! 

It's alright, mom. Come snuggle, you'll feel better. 

Velcro Dog is telling me to stop worrying and give him a bone. All we need is food, shelter, and companionship, right? I hate to break his bubble and let him know that part of the reason he has all these things is the same reason we need to prepare and pay taxes; because we make money. A dog needs to retain some of his fantasies after all. 

Relationships Are Hard, Man

 Gratitudes:

1. Health care insurance. I have been recently diagnosed with chronic migraines. I have suspected this for a while but didn't want yet another co-morbid diagnosis. That said, I'm very thankful for our insurance. I can get the meds and the PT I need.
2. Knitting. If you knit, you understand.
3. Gluten free ginger cookies. Sometimes tea isn't the same without the ginger cookies.

It's Valentine's Day today. My Facebook feed is full of pictures of wonderful gifts and touching sentiments. And babies. All the precious, perfect babies. 

We don't celebrate Valentine's. Hubs isn't that type of romantic and I've gotten tired of trying to show him in material ways that I love him. Cook him dinner, have some good to great sex and we're good, you know? Of course, this happens all the time since I generally cook dinner and we do enjoy sex. 

In fact, if it hadn't been for a few texts from family and friends, I would have have totally spaced on Valentine's Day at all. So thank you, friends and family, for the reminders. :) 

Relationships are hard. They take work. Give and take. Patience. Compassion. A willingness to know who you are and learn about who your partner is in this moment, instead of living in the past or rushing headlong into the future. Ours has been stretched in the last few years. Renovations alone can destroy a marriage. Add to that work disatisfaction, higher education, health issues, extended family drama, and you have quite the recipe for disaster. 

I won't say we are special, because we aren't. We wake up every day and no matter how angry we may be with the other, we choose in that moment to stay. And in staying, we choose to figure out how to make things work. And whether the expectations we held are worth holding. And that, I think, is the key. As soon as someone stops trying, it's time to ask the really hard questions. One person can pull all the weight for only so long before the self is completely lost. 

I'm not trying to be a downer. I actually feel really positive about what I just wrote. I'm with someone who chooses to get in there and be present in the messiness of our relationship. I'm right there with him. Who carries the most will change from season to season, and we're at a point where once we realize what we're carrying for the other, we talk about it and attempt to work it out, make reparations if necessary, change course if needed. It's hard work. But I wouldn't be anywhere else.

It's All About The Spoons

 Gratitudes:

1. Laundry is done! For this week. Trust me, this is a major milestone as I didn't need Hubs' help with any of it. Even if it took two days to accomplish.
2. Mator, our mutant cherry tomato plant, continues to thrive. He lives in the garage at night and comes out to drink in the sun and water during the day. We may get up to 50 more cherry tomatoes off him before he gives in to the inevitable. 
3. I was up and doing things at 7:30 am. This may not sound like much, but the look Hubs gave me indicated he was witnessing a minor miracle.

Let's keep up with the sharing, shall we. Apparently, I'm full of the shares this week. And it's only Wednesday. 

courtesy of Liz West via Flickr  CC License 2.0

Have you heard of spoon theory? No? Well, aren't you in for a treat. Pull up a chair, sit back, relax, and let me, as the kids say, drop some knowledge. 

Spoon theory was developed by Christine Miserandino during a conversation with a friend in which she used spoons as an object lesson on what it's like to live with a chronic health issue. She grabbed spoons from near by tables, handed them to her friend, and told her friend she now had a chronic health condition, in this case Lupus. 

I liken spoons to units of energy, be it mental, emotional or physical. When a person is healthy, they have an seeming endless supply of spoons. A healthy person doesn't have to decide just how they are going to spend spoons on any given day. Little juggling is required. And the next day, poof, new spoons, so yay! 

A person with a chronic health condition gets a finite number of spoons on any given day. The number of spoons one has may also vary daily. Today I may have twenty spoons but tomorrow I may only have five. I can start to predict how many spoons I'll have to spend, but I could easily be wrong. Since I only have a finite number of spoons, I have to be honest with myself and make hard choices. My spoons yesterday looked like this: 

Yesterday was a 14 spoon day. This is the average of late. 

• Task: shower and shave; Spoons: 1
• doing my hair and makeup would have been an additional spoon. Thankfully, my hair looked fine and as much as I wanted to look polished, I forwent the make as well
• Task: breakfast; Spoons: 1
• it's amazing how difficult a healthy paleo/GF breakfast can be to make when the pain is high. I eat this way because food is medicine and when I eat 'regular' food I feel even crappier.
• Task: take dog to vet; Spoons: 2
• Velcro Dog is skittish and it takes a lot of energy to play games with him at the vet in order to keep his calm. 
• Driving can take spoons. Yes, the simple act of driving can exhaust me some days.
• Task: lunch; Spoons: 1
• Soup, 1/2 sandwich, tea, and some snuggles with Velcro Dog.
• Task: dog walk; Spoons: 2
• Half my spoons were spent by noon, and there were more things on my list yet to attempt to accomplish. Beyond just living, that is.
• Task: laundry; Spoons: 2
• Climbing up and down the stairs three or four times to change loads along with folding and putting clothes away can be too much. These two spoons were just getting two loads washed and dried and in the basket. I skipped folding and putting away, knowing I could do that today. This is part of the negotiations I have with myself.
• Task: Dinner; Spoons: 2
• I was in charge of barbequed brats, homemade roasted potato wedges, and salad. It almost broke me. If I'm really honest, this was closer to three spoons but I don't count the resting I did during the actual eating of dinner. Yes, the act of eating can be a spoon unto itself. 
• Task: Clean up/load dishwasher; Spoons: 0
• I had only a few spoons left so asked Hubs if he could take care of the clean up. It was that or leave everything for today. No one enjoys scrubbing day old pots. No one. 
• Task: Mental breakdown; Spoons: 2
• It had been a stressful day and I was at the end of my reserves. I felt guilty and inadequate and useless. It is this type of thinking, along with the constant pain, that can have me sink low into a depressive episode, unless I am able to take the time to deal with the self talk. Which, ironically, also takes spoons. I tend to hold some spoons back just in case. Can you blame me? 
• Task: Bedtime routine; Spoons: 1
• Last night my routine was letting the dog out, turning the dishwasher on, brushing my teeth and falling into bed. I read a bit because my brain wouldn't turn off. If I don't fall asleep within 45 minutes of climbing into bed I use an extra spoon or two trying different means of dealing with insomnia
• End of day tally: 14 Spoons Used

I used all of my spoons and I had many things I didn't accomplish. Things like paying bills, cleaning the office, dry mopping the wood floors, folding and putting laundry away, going to the library to return/pick up books, write, clean off the dining table, vacuum screens/windows in preparation for winter. My house feels like a complete pit. There is dust everywhere. Piles of papers adorn my office. Books are piled rather than put away on shelves where they should go because I haven't had the energy to go through the shelves to make room by doing my annual purge/organize. 

Some days I have more spoons, or fewer tasks that require a lot of spoons. Some days the weather sucks and my body pays the price. Some days all the stars align and I feel healthy and whole. Those days I may actually put on makeup and feel pretty. Or I may spend an hour going through one of the ominous piles of shit paper that needs to be organized or tossed. I may actually get bills paid and the cheque book balanced. Or I may say to hell with it and go out for lunch with a friend. Or go see a movie in the evening with Hubs. 

I have to learn to not feel guilty when I go to bed and the kitchen hasn't been cleaned. Or when the laundry has to wait for Hubs to help. Or when I need to ask Hubs to vacuum because I just don't have it in me. It's a lot of give and take. This is why I'm not currently working. Why I question when I'll ever be a functioning member of society. And why I kick myself in the ass for that last thought because even though I'm not working and I can't keep up with my life, I am still a living, breathing member of society. I have to have different standards. Different expectations. So does my husband. We both forget this. It's amazing how often we both forget this. 

To thrive I need to learn to slow down. And not in the begrudging manner I've done so thus far. Life for me is going to always be full of choices and give and take. I hate having a house that feels like a pit, but I can only do so much. And it's not really a pit. It just feels like it to me because I have specific standards of how I want my home to be. I hate feeling left out when I have to say no to friends, when I can't go to church because I really need rest more. I hate not working. I hate that some days I don't have the energy to even be online and feel like I'm part of a community that doesn't require me to get dressed and leave my house. I hate that there are days I feel like a hermit because I haven't left my house. 

What this has taught me is that living with a chronic health condition is like having to become a master strategist. Every day I have to measure my pain levels, my energy levels, the weather, and I need to look at the tasks that I want or need to accomplish. Then I need to be planful and mindful as I map out my day. I also need to be flexible. A flare can start in the middle of the day. Weather can change in an instant. A task can take longer or be more difficult than initially estimated. Because of this I need to determine what is critical and what isn't. And I need to be able to let go of the non-critical items because they may never make it to the top of my list. Which means attempting to be objective about my very subjective life.

I also have to think about my state of mind in any given moment. State of mind can impact my spoons drastically. Some days I just need to stay in my pyjamas, turn on some Marvel movies, and snuggle Velcro Dog while I wait for the gloom to part. It isn't about having a mental health day. It's about survival. 

Thanks for listening to me ramble. It was good to get this out. I miss a life where I don't have to measure out spoons. This is the life I have right now. I'm trying to live it the best way I can. 

Recovery and Patience

 Gratitudes:

1. After almost a week and a half with a horrible GI virus/bug of some sort, I'm finally beginning to feel like myself
2. Streaming TV and movies - when you don't have it in you to concentrate on reading and can't go anywhere, streaming media is a lifesaver
3. Velcro Dog, who snuggles all the blues away

Since returning from vacation I've been a hot mess. The husband wins an award for patience and caring during this time. He made sure I had what I needed to feel comfortable while he was at work, took care of the laundry, walked the dog twice a day, cooked for himself (I've been on a rice and clear liquid diet regimen, so not fun or tasty!), and did some light cleaning. 

This weekend I thought I was getting better so while he was visiting his sister and family, I stayed home and started to deep clean the kitchen. Mistake! I think I set myself back a couple of days just because I was tired of looking at my mess of a kitchen and because I was tired of needing to lay around all day. I also had brunch with a friend and maybe the food choices I made weren't the best for my ailing GI tract. 

I did learn something about myself over the past week. While I am an introvert, there comes a point in time where I need human interaction or I feel like I'm going to go crazy. Also, I can only handle so much down time before I start to itch with the need to do something. 

However, I also learned that pacing and timing are as important in life as they are in storytelling. Instead of trying to deep clean the kitchen in one day, I could have broken the surfaces into zones and tackled one zone over the course of a day. Instead of eating like I was healthy, I could have had a few bland sides and some tea and enjoyed the conversation and companionship. The food I really wanted to eat would be there for a future date. Instead of acting as though I was in tip top condition, I could have given myself the space and time I still required to heal AND still have been able to do some light cleaning and spend time with a friend. 

I'm not very patient with myself or with being in process. I'm going to have quite a bit of time in the near future to practice this patience. So much fun. 

It's the Little Things

Gratitudes:

 

1. A working snowblower and a husband who isn't afraid to use it
2. Great teachers who are able to challenge my beliefs - cognitive dissonance can be a powerful learning tool.
3. The ladies at the coffee shop I sometimes visit on my way to work - thank you for the extra, extra whip cream today. It was much appreciated. :)

 

I was in line at the post office this week when I overheard a couple of thirty-something ladies ahead of me compare their Valentine's Day experiences. Let's just say they were complaining about what they thought was a lack of extravagence. They wanted more than flowers and cutsie gifts from the men in their lives. They expected to be dazzled and treated like royalty and their lovers had fallen short of the mark, and these women were disappointed and angry.

 

I wish I could say this is not the norm, that most people I bump into are able to find joy and meaning in the little things, in the day to day guestures that friends adn family use to tell us we are loved and appreciated. That we matter. When I was a therapist I worked with couples who getting married or newly married. One of the things we discussed was how we perceive we are loved. Sadly, several of these couples stated they only felt valued and loved if there partner showed them through grand guestures.

 

On one hand, that's very romantic. I think we want to be swept off our feet, but when we rely on grand guestures, what was grand yesterday becomes normal and the guestures need to increase in complexity or weight in order to be considered, well, grand.

 

No one can sustain this. And when we focus on the grand, we miss out on the simple and the honest and the authentic.

 

It's the little things that over time make or break a relationship. Maybe that's where we should be spending our energies, taking care of the little things, noticing the little things, being thankful for the little things.