days in the life

This is a week of my recent life. 

I promise not to post this sort of stuff again in the near future.

Friday
I've been binge-watching a TV show again. The first 11 episodes of the season were OK but the last 20 minutes of The Killing were almost unbearable. Curiosity led me to follow my investment ... If you're considering doing the same, skip the lat 20 minutes which are silly and boring.

So while that was going on, I neglected self-care and household upkeep. Now it's that time when I try to motivate myself to do all the things I regularly resolve to do ... over and over.

I did some good swimming yesterday (vigorous) and can hope to repeat that today. I don't have pool access tomorrow or Sunday, so I'll need it.  The A/c is on today which mainly produces a feeling of cold clamminess. It's 90 humid degrees outside. Last week we had a respite featuring back to school weather. I guess I'll get to the pool as first priority since thunderstorms are in the forecast and the pool is closed when there's thunder.
Yesterday I bought beef to go with my leftover ratatouille and pasta (the last of several day's worth). But I couldn't finish it. I really don't think I like beef any more. And I may have had my ration of ratatouille for the year.
.... more to follow ...
Sat.
Next day. I didn't do anything as it turns out. I started in on a new tv show. So here we are today with a new stickie

blood sugar 250
internet distraction messed up writing
before lunch b.s. 300 (really need to get metformin today.
still on track but very very slow
I'm pleased that I took out the trash (some moaning and groaning)
I'm pleased that I got out to Greenbranch and got some groceries.
I went to the pharmacy and when I got home I found I still didn't have Metformin. I'll have to call and hope to get it tomorrow.
Then I'll call it a day, much better than yesterday, and watch netflix.

My dream for the future is that I can go up and down the stairs four times a day: Three times for the dog I dream of getting, and once for a trip to the pool.  
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Sunday
No, I don't want to go to church today.  Last week's experience was too unpleasant. I have to say I really admire those who are so faithful. They can see the same problems that I do, but they are so much more tolerant.

And I'm balking about my own list. It's a fine list, but it's a list, which feels so oppressive. I'd rather sit around and compose lists all day, rather than follow them. The list is not very demanding.

The name of the salad is caprese. Pronounced in an Italian way.
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Monday
Off to a staggering start this morning. Got hung up on facebook. Lots of interesting items re: cookie cutter christianity, humor, new friend requests from me for friends of friends, funny stuff, peace, peace, peace ...
I'm procrastinating from a shower.

I'd really like to go back to bed. It's afternoon. Trash has got to go out.... I checked my bank account and paid my credit card bill the minimum. Usually I pay much more than the minimum, but finances this month seem pretty tight. I felt more and more like staying home, partly because I wanted to avoid going out and buying something to eat ... I 'd really like to adhere to my committed food plan today. Every morning I submit my food plan and recently that has been more and more a fleeting fantasy.  My food plan is a tool I have to keep from eating compulsively. Compulsive mean unplanned. My first meal today wasn't until the smoothy after noon. Going out this afternoon would make buying (spending money on) an unplanned sandwich a temptation I want to avoid.

I did take a shower and then took some more Ultram for the pain in my thighs and read an essay by Jonathan Franzen.  It was beautiful and brought tears to my eyes. It was about his father and Alzheimer. A topic I've written myself but without the detail, depth and breadth. It was writing that I could only wish I could do, if I only had many more years to hone the skill, practice the discipline.

I could feel guilty for the trash piled up by my front door and for the undone exercise that would be beneficial if done. But reading the essay by Franzen felt like completely worthwhile activity. Perhaps I'll be inspired to take out the trash later and "core exercises" are still on the sticky.

I tried to listen online to the sermon I missed this weekend. I could not finish. Like the week before, the pastor read aloud from a book for a large portion of the sermon. This is not good. I called up a close friend and, in a sense, we committed we would not flee, but try to find a way to do what we could to help our pastor and our community.
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 Tuesday 
This is Bowser. By the time I'm ready to adopt a dog, she'll be gone. But I have her picture for inspiration. She's a lovely dog.
Last night, I had an idea for writing but this morning it's evaporated.  All I can remember was that it seemed like a good idea. This morning I'm circling the drain with a lack of purpose.

Add to this printing out articles.

Not a good day. Couldn't come up with anything to write, didn't go swimming, couldn't finish lunch ....

 

 Wednesday Seems like yesterday was a pretty depressed day. And the best thing for depression is exercise ... which I have been avoiding for several days. The weather today is condusive to lifting a mood, sunny and cooler.  As I write this I'm feeling more optimistic. Later... took out the trash, swam, went to Greenbriar farms. brought groceries upstairs ... much improvement over yesterday! But my appetite's still pretty poor. I can't complain about that though. I didn't do any writing today.

   While at the pool I took part in a few conversations.  It seems that we had competing agendas, to "out-sick" each other. One person would describe their health problems (or their pet's or relative's) and people would listen sympathetically until they could hear something that they could hook on to with their own story. Then focus would switch to the new story teller until a new hook was found. Part of the game was to sound realistically sympathetic right up until it was your turn to be telling the sick story. There were plenty of sick stories to offer because nobody at that pool was there to show off their athletic prowess or physical fitness. We were there because we were in physical trouble, preparing for joint replacement, recovery from difficult to diagnose complaints,  burning calories, striving for muscle tone, straightening up, sucking it in ... There was a fine balance between fitting in and being special.

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Thursday Reading a good essay by Jonathan Frazen makes my brain feel healthy.

This morning, I compose essays on sciatica and pain. Actually I haven't, but It would probably a good idea. Tho what can one say but owee ow ow?If it were a good essay, who would want to read it? Pain is eomthing that you can't really remember. Then when you're in pain you don't remember it it not bein present. Well, it is connected to the brain.

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Friday
 I bought a taco salad throughthe drive thru yesterday. It was awful. I'm pretty sure taco salads were better 20 some years ago.
I had a lot of pain yesterday and am demanding a lot less of myself today. I took 2 oxycodones this morning and feel much better physically and mentally. I'm not going swimming, mostly because I don't think I would drive safely. I'm enjoying my sunny living room.

journaling

1.
I've been drifting away from the mirror
forgetting denying escaping the image of who I have been
who I am ...
instead i have been nobody and doing nothing

Dear God, you know me. I call out to you. Take me to the mirror. Shelter me, soothe me, but open my eyes, Dear Revealer.

2.
Here I am elderly
and eager to get older
and qualify for Medicare.
I'll quit my job and write
and read and watch movies.
I'll rescue a dog
and walk her for exercise,
up and down those stairs.
My grandmother was fat at my age
like me - though she wore a girdle, used no cane.
I think she was sharper mentally
She didn't have a job, but she did volunteer work

Dear God, my Grandmother taught me about you. May you bless her soul.
all the souls who showed me You. Thank you.

3.
Men. All so imperfect. Cruelly thoughtless. Liars. Pompous and vain. Foolish. But I am proud to have
loved the worthwhile and useful parts of them.

Dear God, help me to be patient with men.

Bottom

This is a screen shot from the movie "Before the Devil Knows You're Dead", a movie about two brothers who make very bad decisions and find their lives unraveling. I'm very much in touch with that feeling this morning. I don't know if it's therapeutic, but I want to lay out these bad feelings in one place. Maybe to face them. Maybe to mark a bottom place in hopes that things don't get much worse.

I have three weeks of laundry accumulated. I don't have cash enough for the laundromat. I need help getting the bags into the car and I'm daunted by the simple task of pulling the wet laundry out of the machines and into the dryer. I'm not out of clothes if I'm careful. I will be able to have some cash on Wednesday, but don't know if I'll have energy for the four hours at the laundromat until next weekend.

A friend called last night and asked if she could ask another friend if she could clean house for me. I'm guessing that she means to pay the other friend who makes her living this way. I told her I'd get back to her. How can I describe how such an offer accentuates how bad I feel? I don't even understand it myself. I really would like my space to be cleaner and Alicia has done a great job in the past. None could do it better. I am sad that I can't pay Alicia with my own money. I am sad that I am physically unable to get on my hands and knees as I used to. I'm sad that I can't climb a ladder. I am sad that I'm in bed much of the time because of pain. I'm sad that despite how much I work through therapy, there is a race between physical progress and physical deterioration. I don't think I mind accepting help when I think it's temporary. I feel that a helpful person would like to see some progress for their efforts. Help for me seems like a place holder.

On a daily basis, I have food, shelter, transportation, work, medication, entertainment and work. So much more plenty than so many others in this world. But I struggle with the feeling that I'm entitled: that I'm entitled to security that I don't have ( ... my church paid my rent this month and I don't know how I'll make the next car payment and the car takes me to work), that I'm entitled to more (my friends and family often complain that I should have a better apartment). I know in my mind that I'm not entitled any more than anyone else, but my heart has a different story.

My best friends, the people I most confided in and sought advice from, have died in the last ten years. This reminds me that I am mortal. I feel unready to die and realize that I'm not progressing in that readiness. I figure I'll be even worse off before I die. That's not optimism. I wake up too often with very dark thoughts.

This improves during the day. I have plenty of diversions ... and probably too many opportunities for entertainment. I have good spiritual resources which are handy when I choose to use them. I have wonderful people in my immediate world ... the graces of people make the sins of people easier to bear. The grace of God make my own sins easier to bear. Spiritual resources don't guarantee happiness, but they do sustain me.

Pain And Suffering

It's been 3 3/4 months since the car accident and although I have been progressing, I'm still experiencing sharp pain, swelling, and fatigue. I love being back at work and working with kids, but that's all I have energy for. I drag myself up in the morning and I collapse when I get home. I haven't had physical therapy for two weeks ... not enough steam to get in and out of the car after work. I have an appointment to start next Wednesday. Actually I stopped by today by mistake, but I was relieved when they turned me away.
I had a splinter in my heel (the "good" foot) for more than two weeks. My doctor had a hard time finding it to pull it out. But she found it and also gave me encouragement and told me I was wise not to go back to teaching night school right now. Though money is so bad, I wake up in dread each morning.
I was much more chipper several weeks ago. But maybe that was oxycontin. Now the road to recovery is getting old.

Exercise

I'm told that exercise is an important way to pull out of depression. The catch is that it's hard to get started exercising when I'm depressed. Last week I think I went to the pool once. Today I went. Like pulling my own teeth. But, of course, once I was in the water, I was committed and active. One lady who I exercise with often is a gym teacher, so I bounced ideas off her. She reminded me that I had a stationary bike at home. And I actually don't need to dry clothes on it all the time.

Feeling down, no doubt

I've had a cold on and off for a few weeks.
I haven't played a musical instrument for several months.
I earn less money than I spend. And I don't spend much.
I haven't seen important relatives for almost two years.
I haven't sewn or done any oregami in over a year.
I don't feel close enough to anyone to have a rambling telephone conversation.
I have lost interest in teaching ESL.
I sleep too much.