I am hot. Really freaken hot. Except when I am freezing cold. My internal thermostat is broken. Yesterday, the furnace at work stopped. Pressing the reset button for 15 seconds as the directions say to didn't work. I eventually called the service guy who held the red button for 45 seconds, as is apparently the correct amount of time. So why does it say 15?
And by the by, where is my reset button? And how long do I hold it? Can I hold it or do I need a technician?
All day long I usually have my coat on or a yoga blanket wrapped around me and a space heater blasting me in my office. My hands are ice cold regardless.
Night time? I am most likely responsible for melting the polar ice caps. The other night I woke and felt sweat dripping like a leaky faucet into my belly-button. Anything next to me or on me is soaked in the morning.
I have been routinely waking up at 3:13 AM. I did a little bit of research and discovered my out of balance chakras, and that that time period is ruled by water, (hah) the bladder & kidneys, and that in general I am a mess.
And that I really wish my insurance covered acupuncture.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
For the Record
I am getting very tired of people asking me intimate questions, or commenting repeatedly about my weight loss. It happens all day, every day. Yes, I've lost a lot of weight. No, I don't know why I am losing weight. Yet. No, I do not have anorexia, cancer, a drug problem, AIDS, whatever you are thinking I have......
Would any of these people, most of whom I am sure are well-meaning, talk about this to me if the opposite were true? If I was packing on the pounds instead of shedding them? I doubt it.Not to my face anyway.
Do they really want to know that I am having my period every 12 days and it lasts anywhere from 15 days to a month? Cause I think I may start telling them that this may be the problem. Or that I have migraines 4-8 times a week which, in combination with the medication I take for them makes me lose my appetite? Or that a severe mold allergy may be the culprit? I am bored typing this- Do I give them a list of what I have eaten in the past week and then let them know that despite the mac and cheese, lobster enchiladas, chicken wings, cheesy crab dip etc. I have lost another two pounds?
Oh, yes, I am worried. I am unhappy with the treatment from my primary care physician and will be replacing her. But please, STOP! I know it is winter and there is not a lot to talk about, but a bit of privacy and decorum would go a long way to reducing my stress. I already sorely miss having breasts and a butt; please don't make me lose my mind.
Would any of these people, most of whom I am sure are well-meaning, talk about this to me if the opposite were true? If I was packing on the pounds instead of shedding them? I doubt it.Not to my face anyway.
Do they really want to know that I am having my period every 12 days and it lasts anywhere from 15 days to a month? Cause I think I may start telling them that this may be the problem. Or that I have migraines 4-8 times a week which, in combination with the medication I take for them makes me lose my appetite? Or that a severe mold allergy may be the culprit? I am bored typing this- Do I give them a list of what I have eaten in the past week and then let them know that despite the mac and cheese, lobster enchiladas, chicken wings, cheesy crab dip etc. I have lost another two pounds?
Oh, yes, I am worried. I am unhappy with the treatment from my primary care physician and will be replacing her. But please, STOP! I know it is winter and there is not a lot to talk about, but a bit of privacy and decorum would go a long way to reducing my stress. I already sorely miss having breasts and a butt; please don't make me lose my mind.
Saturday, January 07, 2012
The Change(s)
Changes are fast approaching- some I've known were coming;others that have taken me by surprise, and some were only hinted at by a vague sense of discomfort, as though wearing shoes that didn't quite fit.
The big change is exactly that- I am thoroughly in the throes of perimenapause- albeit somewhat differently than I expected. In addition to the more typical symptoms, I have lost 50 lbs without trying; my appetite is gone. Even when I force myself to gag something down, I continue to lose weight. (Here you can add whatever rant you choose about unhelpful doctors) Minor surgery is in the offing.
For a long while I have known, that although I love much about my job, and can do it well, I miss working with children with autism. A member came into my office, having been told what I did in my former life and we spent an hour talking about her son. Normally an unplanned interruption of my day would make me crazy, but I was energized. I felt that I was just where I belonged. I felt competent, helpful and relaxed. And again, though I know I am doing good work where I am, after a year, I feel I have been on the defensive since I took the job. And I am worn down.
And then I took my vacation- 10 days away from work, 2 of which I spent in a city. And then I remembered. It awakened the feelings I had when, as a young, suburban mother, I would steal time to take the train into NYC- that I had just been removed from a sensory-deprivation tank and the world came flooding in. I had forgotten what people look like in an urban area, how the fast paced walk and long strides feel good, how having anything I wanted within reach of those strides was something I loved.
I have not been writing, not been creating art, and most telling, not visiting the beach. The beach was my food, my church, my inspiration. I completed 2.5 poetry manuscripts there. There is much I will always love about small-town/island life but there is something more I need that I cannot get here.
I am ready to do some walking. Don't think I am not afraid- starting over AGAIN, at 50 is frightening. I have doubts, fears, worries and anxiety. But underneath, there is a sense of excitement, of "rightness".
The big change is exactly that- I am thoroughly in the throes of perimenapause- albeit somewhat differently than I expected. In addition to the more typical symptoms, I have lost 50 lbs without trying; my appetite is gone. Even when I force myself to gag something down, I continue to lose weight. (Here you can add whatever rant you choose about unhelpful doctors) Minor surgery is in the offing.
For a long while I have known, that although I love much about my job, and can do it well, I miss working with children with autism. A member came into my office, having been told what I did in my former life and we spent an hour talking about her son. Normally an unplanned interruption of my day would make me crazy, but I was energized. I felt that I was just where I belonged. I felt competent, helpful and relaxed. And again, though I know I am doing good work where I am, after a year, I feel I have been on the defensive since I took the job. And I am worn down.
And then I took my vacation- 10 days away from work, 2 of which I spent in a city. And then I remembered. It awakened the feelings I had when, as a young, suburban mother, I would steal time to take the train into NYC- that I had just been removed from a sensory-deprivation tank and the world came flooding in. I had forgotten what people look like in an urban area, how the fast paced walk and long strides feel good, how having anything I wanted within reach of those strides was something I loved.
I have not been writing, not been creating art, and most telling, not visiting the beach. The beach was my food, my church, my inspiration. I completed 2.5 poetry manuscripts there. There is much I will always love about small-town/island life but there is something more I need that I cannot get here.
I am ready to do some walking. Don't think I am not afraid- starting over AGAIN, at 50 is frightening. I have doubts, fears, worries and anxiety. But underneath, there is a sense of excitement, of "rightness".
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The little things
As Dorothy Parker said, " It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes." The past week has been living proof of that. Nearly EVERYTHING I own or need at work has broken. The largest of the messes has been my car which needed more than the tires I had put off buying, but two new axles as well, leaving me trapped on the island- too dangerous to even drive over the causeway.
But here is one good thing; one of the routine events that take place here and give me pause when I make plans to leave for a walkable city with bagels and coffee shops and museums and movie theatres- My mechanic came to my office, picked up my car and made arrangements with a friend of mine to take his car so I was not stranded while my car is being repaired. I didn't ask; he just did it.
So maybe this week the messes won't kill me.
But here is one good thing; one of the routine events that take place here and give me pause when I make plans to leave for a walkable city with bagels and coffee shops and museums and movie theatres- My mechanic came to my office, picked up my car and made arrangements with a friend of mine to take his car so I was not stranded while my car is being repaired. I didn't ask; he just did it.
So maybe this week the messes won't kill me.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Missing
"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell."
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
I never was a person who missed anyone. Oh, I thought about people far from me and reminisced about things we had done together but I always found the memories sustained me. My mother used to say my birth father was like that; it was obviously a bad trait. For most of my life I had it; genetic or a defense against pain, it worked for me.
I rarely felt alone and could go days without speaking to another soul. Something has changed and, as Edna, the first poet I ever loved and memorized said, "I miss you like hell." Missing you is Hell.
It affects my work, my concentration, my sleep, my soul. No wonder I avoided this all these years. Your absence is an abyss I cannot help but fall into.
Knowing you miss me too should help, but it makes me cry and rage. I am the weeping downstairs neighbor you feel sorry for but turn your music up to drown out or you'd be crying too.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
I never was a person who missed anyone. Oh, I thought about people far from me and reminisced about things we had done together but I always found the memories sustained me. My mother used to say my birth father was like that; it was obviously a bad trait. For most of my life I had it; genetic or a defense against pain, it worked for me.
I rarely felt alone and could go days without speaking to another soul. Something has changed and, as Edna, the first poet I ever loved and memorized said, "I miss you like hell." Missing you is Hell.
It affects my work, my concentration, my sleep, my soul. No wonder I avoided this all these years. Your absence is an abyss I cannot help but fall into.
Knowing you miss me too should help, but it makes me cry and rage. I am the weeping downstairs neighbor you feel sorry for but turn your music up to drown out or you'd be crying too.
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