M.I.A.

Sometimes there good reasons when I go for long periods of time without blogging. I'll be honest, though, sometimes the "good reason" is that I've been trying too hard to make it through the day to think about sitting down and composing a blog post.

A little bit after Dew broke up with me, I took down all the posts on depression. I took down all my posts actually. Slowly, some of them have started to reappear in the blog archive, but a lot of them haven't. I felt so much shame about what I had written and what I had gone through that a lot of the words haven't been reposted. It made sense that when I linked my blog up to my facebook account that I would keep the talk about depression to a minimum, since new people that actually had met me at one point in my life or another could stumble across this site and read this. Saying something along the lines of, "Hi! It's great hearing from you. It's been a long time since 8th grade algebra class. P.S. - I'm crazy" didn't seem like the best way to win friends and influence people.

But I feel inauthentic, like I'm hiding something. Most of the time, I keep my feelings from my friends and almost always from health care professionals. It's easier to say that I'm doing fine than to tell them about the relentless thoughts that troop through my head -the thoughts that make me cry and want to sleep for hours and hours and hours. When I told the family care practitioner that the pain I was feeling in my body left me feeling overwhelmed and hopeless, he took one look at my chart and said, "You're already on anti-depressants. There is nothing else I can do for you," and quickly turned away.

Sometimes I wonder if the stress is too much for me. I've had two cars towed in the past three weeks. The last one was last Monday. I hit a curb and the front tire exploded. I pulled over to the entrance of a hotel and turned on my emergency flashers. Cars were swerving around me, but I was relatively safe. I had spent twenty minutes trying to jack up the car when the car moved forward and the jack fell. It was approximately 95 degrees with 90% humidity and my sweat was dripping down my back. Someone that was pulling into the hotel stopped to help me. He had the car jacked up (this time on the frame of the car) and the tire changed in under 15 minutes. Unfortunately, he put the lug nuts on backwards and I was too clueless to notice. I drove about 200 yards into Galleria traffic, when the wheel separated from the spare time. This time I was in a turn lane for the freeway and couldn't pull off anywhere without damaging the wheel. This option was especially bad considering the car I was driving wasn't mine after towing the first car the weekend before. I did the only thing that I could think of doing, which was turning on the emergency flashers again and calling 911. A police officer arrived about 10-15 minutes later and blocked traffic around me while we waited for a tow truck. When the tow truck got there, the police officer had a quiet conversation with him that involved the price of the tow. The police officer said that he wouldn't do any paper work if the tow truck driver didn't and I could pay $50, in cash, instead of the full $140 fee for blocking a lane of city traffic.

The car was towed and I rode with the police officer less than a block to where the car was dropped off. The tow truck driver asked for the cash, saying that he would accept $40, and I had to tell him that I didn't have it. I asked him if I could write him a check and he said no. We just kind of stared at each other for a while and I said I could try the ATM, that maybe some of the checks I had written hadn't cleared my account yet. They hadn't, so I handed him the last $40 in my account and watched the next day as I accrued over $75 in bank overdraft fees with the checks did clear. I spent two hours at the car repair shop while they looked for a 14" tire. They finally found a used one that they gave me for free if I paid for the mounting and balancing. I got home an hour later.

Something inside me has been broken lately. Between the cars, the pain, school, Zac, work, and mandatory volunteering late into the night, I have just felt incapacitated and ineffective. I'm surviving, at the barest level. No one wants to hear this though, so I lie when someone asks me how I'm doing.

So, really, I'm fine. Just haven't been writing much.

I Just About Hate Everything

I've found a new blogger than has said almost exactly what I've been feeling lately in regards to the pain in my body. In this post she pretty much sums up everything, especially the part where she says, "I always held out hope that I would find something to "fix" me. I thought if I did enough yoga, or acupuncture, or massage, or stretching, that I would be cured. I'm all for putting up a fight, but this latest diagnosis has made me realize that I can not be cured. I will struggle with this for the rest of my life."

I don't have a diagnosis yet, and it's doubtful that I ever will. I sit at work in tremendous pain waiting until I can leave and trying to figure out how I can just keep working even though everything tells me to stop. I try to go for short walks at work, get up and change positions, lay on the floor and do yoga, and take anti-inflammatories like they are going out of style. At night, I eat peanut butter out of the jar for no apparent reason. Sometimes I wake up with peanut butter in my mouth and I'm not sure when I ate it and I wonder what my body is trying to accomplish.

The best part of my day is the first hour after I wake up. I'm sore from the pain the previous day, but it doesn't actively hurt. I can make my bed, fold laundry, and tell Zac "no" when he asks to watch another show on PBS because we need to leave for school and work. I don't feel like I want to curl up and have long heart-to-heart talks with God. I feel like me, for a little while at least.

What's most concerning to me is the thought that there may not be a physical cause for the pain I'm in. After the x-rays and the tests, it might be left with nothing other than a list of things I don't have. There might not be anything that I can do other than what I'm doing now and that thought scares me more than anything.

Recap

I'm still here. Sorry that I've been away so long from blogging. I have a couple of interesting stories that I want to share. As always, most of them revolve around me either being or making a complete ass out of myself. Such is the joy of being in my world.

My first story directly relates to my last post. Not many people noticed before I changed it, but the last post I wrote originally included the question: "Is it that the guy is just more honest than most or his he just a shallow knucklehead?" Now there are a couple of problems with a question like that: 1) It's rude, 2) If the person reads it, he will automatically assume that I'm calling him that, and 3)I probably shouldn't write about people that I'm actively interested in dating, particularly in a less than glowing way. Carlo and I began chatting on yahoo a couple of weeks ago. E-mails progressed to phone call and during one two-hour phone session, I decide to friend him on Facebook. That's all well and good, except my blog is linked to my profile of fb. Right under my personal e-mail address and where I went to high school. Carlo decided to click on the link and ran smack into an entry involving him.

He e-mailed me back answers to all of my questions, including Question #2, in which he said that he would take the high road about the shallow knucklehead comment. He told me what he really looks for in a woman: "I'm looking for a sweet, smart, pretty and fun girl. She needs to be a positive person who doesn't feel the need to put down others in order to build up her perceived value." I assume the last part was directly related to what I said about him. It's an issue that I've struggled with before on my blog. I write to vent and to entertain. Sometimes I worry that I go to far.

Almost unbelievably, Carlo decided to give me a second chance. It's pretty rare that life ever offers you one, so I wanted to make the most out of it. I took off the offensive comment from my blog and apologized profusely to him. We decided to meet up for dinner and drinks last Saturday night and I had a great time. We've been seeing each other every couple of days since then (much to the dismay of my school work). I'm really enjoying spending time with him and learning more about it. We joke about the shallow knucklehead comment, but I think he's forgiven me. I hope so, at least.

Things with my body have taken a decidedly negative turn, however. I got an oral fungal infection from the antibiotics I was taking. What's amazing is how long I let it go before I went to the doctor. I just thought that I had a funny feeling in my mouth. It felt dry and scratchy all the time, regardless of how much water or Diet Coke I would drink. After about a month, it continued to get worse. I finally saw a doctor for it and found out that I had over a 100 degree temperature and a mouth covered in white. I was prescribed an oral anti-fungal treatment, which involves me holding medication in mouth as long as possible then finally swallowing it. After one week of treatment, I'm only marginally better. It's now official that my medical interventions (originally the antibiotics) is now leading to other interventions (anti-fungal).

I took yesterday off work to rest my back. The problem is that I'm now experiencing pain in more than just my back. I know have pain in the backs of my arms, my forearms, and my calves. The pain used to go away as long as I took a break from work or walked around. Now even on my days off, it's almost constant. I went back to see the same family practitioner that I saw a week ago for my mouth. I got an initial good feeling from him. He seems thorough and was willing to listen to my vague complaints like, "radiating pain" and "chronic fatigue". He sent me for a pregnancy test (not pregnant), x-rays of my spine and shoulder, and a series of blood work to check for everything from autoimmune diseases to anemia and thyroid problems. I should have the results back from the blood work later this week.

I'm back at work today, still very tender and uncomfortable sitting for long periods of time. my biggest hurdle is how overwhelmed and hopeless I feel when dealing with the pain. The doc I saw yesterday said that he couldn't help me with that because I'm already on medication for depression. He didn't give me a lot of options, other than to talk to my shrink, which I'll do. Until then, for those of you that know yoga, I've been spending a lot of time in the child's pose, hoping that my body can somehow heal itself.

Q & A

I've had a lot of questions lately, very few of which have had many answers. That's where you all come in. If I can't blog about questions that I have a pressing need to answer, where else will I turn (and no, google does not have all the answers for me)? Not to beg here, but please, pretty please can I exploit your knowledge to improve the quality of my life (or at least clean my apartment)?

Here is what I've been wondering:

1) How the hell do you get poop out of carpet? I've scrubbed and scrubbed, and this shit, literally, isn't budging. I've tried carpet cleaner and a sponge so far. What am I missing? Other pertinent details about the poop include: human origin, not from me, possibly from a little boy that ran naked from one bathroom at one end of the apartment to the other. The existence of the poop was confirmed when I accidentally stepped on it while trying to turn out the living room light. Subsequent poop prints were left while trying to hop to the bathroom to wash off my foot.

2) Who says: "I usually like pretty women with good figures" when asked: "Do you have a type of woman you usually like?" Don't most people answer with the standard "intelligence, humor, kindness...." line of b.s.? Is it that the guy is just more honest than most?

3) How much does a good multi-media personality matter? If someone has a particularly embarrassing facebook page or a bad text messaging style (ex: "I still b workin at 5. hit me up lata 2nit"), should that concern me? Do I need someone that is a proficient communicator in all forms?

4) Besides medication, which I haven't changed recently, what could possibly be causing my incredibly dry mouth? Drinking water and Diet Coke doesn't help. It seems like it just makes it worse. Sometimes I try and suck on hard candy, but nothing seems to really make it go away. Am I dying? Is this really a precursor for old age? Without sounding neurotic, I feel like I need to make it very clear just exactly how much this is annoying me. I have a weird, funny thing going on in my mouth.

Somebody please help me!

Flying Solo

So the good news is that I'm feeling better. Much better actually. The bad news is that I still had to use a little Icy-Hot this morning on my ribs, which means that it will burn a little in the bathtub tonight. I'm ok with that, though. At least I'm not feeling the urge to moan pathetically and write an entire blog post about how much pain I'm in. We can all be thankful for that.

As for the dating update, I don't have much to offer. Dr. Man ignored my text on Friday asking if we were still on for Saturday. I haven't heard from him, especially since I turned him down when he asked for some scantily clad photos. I just wanted to say to him: "Look. There are many nice women out there who would probably be more than happy to take pictures of themselves in their bra and underwear. I'm just not one of those women. You should find one of them." Apparently, he did, or at least he stopped talking to me. Either one, maybe both. I don't consider it a particularly large loss, even if it was fun getting text messages from him throughout the day.

I went on a date with an acquaintance of a friend (actually, it was Jory for any of you who remember the catchy nicknames I give people on my blogs) on Saturday. It really wasn't the best idea, considering that I had to make most of the conversation and I've been sucking at small talk lately. He was able to very perceptively figure out when a dark thought crossed my mind about the futitility of dating. He asked what was wrong, which I thought was very sweet, even if we had nothing else in common outside of that moment.

It all got me to thinking about being single. As P. often notes, I don't praise the virtues of life alone often enough (if ever). As I was pulling on a pair of fleece socks last night, to complement my cotton nightgown, I was feeling triumphantly single. I tend to think that people look rather silly in socks while naked. Even if I don't plan on getting naked, I will hardly ever go to bed with someone in socks. That all changes when I'm alone. When I'm all by myself, I'm all-socks, all-the- time. I never have to worry about feeling sexy or sultry in fleece socks, particularly since fleece socks are appropriate for New Hampshire and are fairly riduculous in Texas. I can't explain why my toes don't seem to recognize seasons or humidity, it's just something that I've come to accept. I love that when I'm single I don't have to convince anyone about why this phenomenon occurs. It just does.

While driving to work today I brainstormed some other benefits to not being in a relationship. Here's a working list of what I came up with:

1. Never having to listen to someone else fart unless they let one rip in public and I happen to be standing near by. I also don't have to worry about holding one in - ever.
2. Only choosing to listen to friends tell me about their day, usually only when one of us calls the other.
3. Rarely shaving my legs.
4. Eating food directly from a box, bag, or carton. Sometimes I go for weeks without cooking.
5. Getting my bed all to myself between the hours of 9pm - 4am. After 4am sometime, Zac comes into my room and promptly falls asleep on my head. Before that, I get to do whatever I want in whatever direction I want to do it in.
6. Going on unique and always entertaining blind dates. How many people in relationships can honestly say that they've ever had an entire conversation with a stranger about how to make Star Wars bodyarmor out of molded plastic? Really.
7. Never feeling bad for accidentally missing a day of birth control and never having to buy pregnancy tests.
8. The multi-faceted joy of celibacy.
9. Only cleaning when I have to, which occasionally means leaving my laundry lying out in the middle of my bedroom for a couple of weeks at a time.
10. Having the time to focus on friends and maintaining my friendships.
11. Reading for hours at at time at night after Zac has gone to bed.

That's what I've come up with so far. Like I said, it's a working list. I'll be sure to update it as something else comes to me.

Unexpected

I can remember almost exactly when the pain started. I was in the middle of writing a state grant for substance abuse prevention/intervention services in Houston schools in February 2008. Long hours at my desk combined with hours upon hours of meetings caused my right shoulder to cramp up. As time went on, the pain moved down my right arm and later to my middle back. I never expected that the pain would get so bad that I would be counting down the minutes until I get to leave work. I've started taking over-the-counter arthritis medication and use icy-hot on a regular basis. I'm 28 going on 65. The medication was recommended to me by a guy at work that doesn't want to give up his beer for vicadin. He said that he uses the arthritis medication as a substitute. I can't get vicadin and probably don't want to be taking it on a daily basis. That sounds like a good recipe for addiction and possibly liver failure. Funny enough, the arthritis medication actually worked for a little while. Old people know some good tricks.

When everything starts to cramp up at night when I come home from school or work, I sit in a bath tub full of water so hot that it leaves bruises on my skin. That's the only way that I find any relief from the pain. Sweat drips down my face from the heat, onto the books or magazines that I read in the tub. Zac usually comes to check on me as I'm lying there, feeling comfortable for the first time in hours. I've often fantasized about taking a hot bath during my lunch hour, or even a shower, something, anything to keep from focusing on the pain that starts to demand more and more of my attention.

I woke up hurting today. Sometimes if I lay down too long my middle back, right where my ribs jut out in the back, will start to hurt. I think that's what happened last night. It's never a good sign to start the day off in pain, that just means that it will get worse as the day goes on. I've started to become almost a morning person (no, not really). Usually I get one or two hours in the morning where I feel like myself again, the person that I remember being before this started dominating my life. Sometimes I can go a whole Saturday at school for nine hours without feeling anything. Other times I'm not that lucky.

I've tried quite a few medical options for my back. I saw a family practitioner, an orthopedist, a chiropractor, and an acupuncturist. I can't afford to see the acupuncturist, but I went last week, even though my regular doctor's office was closed. I saw an older Chinese man who ordered me to stand up, with my back facing him. He tugged on my hips a little and pronounced that I was twisted. The stress of my hips being out of alignment with my shoulders was causing all the pain. Unfortunately, he didn't offer any solutions on how to get untwisted. He just put the needles in my back and hooked up the electricity. My runny nose dripped fiercely on the paper sheet underneath me. Zac gave me his cold, which has possibly twisted me more.

The pain today is going down my knees and my calves. It feels like I've been running for hours, but I've really just been sitting here. I don't know what to do. I've never really been the type to thank God for my trials or to redefine my sense of self by overcoming adversity. Then again, I never expected that I would be so young and dealing with chronic pain that has lasted so long.

Candy Hearts and Rainbows

I've been thinking a lot about love lately and none of it has been in a particularly positive way. Remember how I said that I may or may not have given up on love? I think it's official: love and I have parted ways.

I went out with a great guy, Pepe, that I had been chatting last week. He's handsome, smart, funny, and interested in politics. It was the first date that I had been on in a while that actually seemed like it had potential to be more than one awkward date. I wanted to see him again! I said stupid things like, "I want to see you again," to his face, to which he replied, "Awww...that's so nice." Yeah, basically I was a complete idiot. Two days after meeting me Pepe IMs me to tell me that he ran into his ex-girlfriend the night before at a club. I ask him how it went and what he thought, never realizing that the phrase, "I ran into my ex-girlfriend" meant "I am getting together with my ex-girlfriend because I'm still in love with her and want to have her babies". Like the idiot that I am, I wait a couple of days and ask if he'd like to get together again. He IMs back that he can't because he's giving his new/old relationship 110% (no joke, that is seriously what he said), but that he had a great time talking to me. I haven't talked to him since.

I'm supposed to go out this weekend with a Ph.D student in Experimental Psychology. I'm pretty sure his degrees means he knows how to mess with people and will take notes and prepare a scatter diagram while doing it. He would say that he wants to better the treatment and outcomes geriatric care. I still feel like there is something diabolical about his chosen career path. Then again, it's very possible that I'm just making stuff up at this point because I don't want to be rejected again. I'm afraid that Dr. Man will take one look at me and decide to not go out to dinner and a blues bar. Dr. Man works out at least once a day and has the body to prove it (at least from pictures. What do I REALLY know, right?). He doesn't have any kids and has a neck slightly larger than my right thigh, which is saying something because I redefine the word "pear shape". My lumpy Mom-body reveals the sagging and stretching of a woman that gained way too much weight during pregnancy. I really don't think someone like me dates someone like Dr. Man. I've contemplated telling him that I can't go, but I'd like to think that I have a little more balls than that. Just a little. Not much.

I know that I used to have better feelings about the possibility of finding and keeping love, although if you've read any of the past blogs you're probably wondering if I'm just making this up. I would swear that something has changed lately. I feel so much more cynical about people. A friend of a friend told me that the key to love is finding the one that is looking for me. I immediately thought, "Who the hell is looking for me?" because no one goes looking for a neurotic single Mom. Even if I can pretend that I have my life together for a couple of hours, it's pretty obvious that I don't, funky smell and rotting dishes in my apartment aside.

All the romantics out there are probably thinking, "But you don't need to have your life together to be in love! Maybe someone doesn't need that! They will love you anyways, despite your flaws!", but let's look at the honest truth: I haven't managed to maintain a relationship for more than six months in the past four years (three of which I was actively dating). I've had two relationships end by the other person simply not returning phone calls or e-mails. I get dumped so often that I've taken to using myself as an example to cheer up friends that are having relationship problems. I'm more bitter than any 28 year-old woman has a right to be, but I can't seem to muster up enough energy to work on changing that emotion.

At least bad dates give me something to blog about. There is always that silver lining.