Running . . . and Stumbling

All around my house, you will find positive affirmation signs, stickers, labels, and plaques. I truly feel that surrounding myself with these uplifting thoughts subconsciously helps me, as well as the rest of my family. You can't spend 5 minutes in our living room without knowing we are (1) a happy family, (2) readers, (3) extremely messy, (4) not terribly concerned about dusting and vacuuming, and (5) incorporating a home office into the main room of the house. 

Today . . . I am struggling. Things are good--we are adapting to work schedules. We have our annual trip to the desert next week. I FINALLY have my new glasses that I've waited to order for nine months. And wow, what I was missing . . . .

But there's a new member of the family. His name is Pippin. He is blue, and had four wheels, brakes, and a seat. No, not a bike . . . it's a walker. My back and legs have gotten so painful, that I take Pippin with me on some trips because I'm afraid I will fall otherwise. I take way too many painkillers. I don't understand why. I've lost 50 lbs, been on this diet for a year, my blood sugar and blood pressure are wonderful . . .but something is wrong somewhere. I went to a doctor for it four years ago when it wasn't nearly this awful. She ordered an MRI. It said slight disc issues . . . and that was it. Her advice? (She didn't do any exam or even look to see where I had pointed) . . lose some weight. Yeah, that has helped me so much so far. (And yes, I hope to pursue further testing, but waiting for all that new insurance stuff we HAD to sign up for to come through first.)

Sigh. So I have Pippin, named by my kids who knew I found it demoralizing, and wanted it to be fun. I'm already being teased about it and, because these people love me so much, reminded that I can still kick butt even if I have a walker in front of me. 

And work . . wow, work. It is coming in so fast, I am flying through each day working as fast as humanly possible. Some projects have proven much harder and more intense than I had prepared for, and then everything else on the list suffers as I attempt to move deadlines around and cope with extra demands. 

So, I am running . . . to keep up, while stumbling to stay upright. 

Focus on the signs on the wall, Tami. Keep smiling. 

The Toll of Adaptation

I've already written about how the adaptation process is taking a toll on me, but it isn't restricted to me. I am seeing the effects of it ripple through the family.
Joseph is struggling. The job is probably too much for him at age 62. His back and neck hurt all the time, and he is always, always so tired. He doesn't complain much--stoic guy--but I can see it. It makes me so sad.
Coryn hates his  new job and is dealing with the self-esteem blows that can come with having to learn a lot fast and not feeling smart enough, and having co-workers that aren't remotely helpful.
Caspian is intimidated about his upcoming  job training and angsting over remembering it all.
Nicole is putting in 40 plus hours a week and missing time at home so much.
I am spending more and more time home alone, something I certainly don't enjoy.
I am wondering if this is really what any of us should be doing . . . and trying to make logical, reasonable decisions that aren't based on fleeting moments of indecision, fatigue, and confusion. I am torn between wanting everything to go back to how it was and wondering if, in the end, these hard life lessons really are for the best for everyone involved.
Mostly I am tired and sad these days. Too sad. Too many tears. Too much time wishing I could take a nap. Too much toll paying and wondering when--or if--the rewards will follow.
Can I stop being a grown up now? I'd love to take a break.
I'm out of change. No more tolls, ok?

Replacement Parts

I should have gone for the full warranty. I want the one that replaces ANY part that fails, breaks, or just doesn't function properly.

No, not for the car or the computer. For ME! Body parts replacements, covered by the warranty for my lifetime. Why isn't that offered? (Of course, none of us could afford it if it was, right? )

Yesterday I woke with foot pain. Not gout. Other foot. No injury. No trip, fall, stumble, nuthin. WHY DOES IT HURT? It hurt on and off all day, causing me to limp pretty good. By bedtime, it was better. Then it woke me all night, every time I turned over. Today I am hopping. WHHHHHHHHHY!?!?!?!  (be sure to insert appropriate levels of whininess here.) [Side note . . . the computer does not recognize that word. Ha. Doesn't know me well enough at all.] I have NO CLUE what it is besides really painful and extremely annoying. I will put ice on it and see if it helps. Then I'll try heat if it doesn't. I'm already elevating and wearing warm slippers. Other than that, I will try swearing and limping and see if that helps.

On another note, this morning we took Nicole to work (as the sun was coming up) and then Joseph went to work. It is the first day I have sent him off to work in over 13 years, so YES, it feels realllllly strange. It will be quiet here! Caspian was up until 3 a.m., so will probably sleep until noon. I bet I get a TON accomplished with no one to ask me questions, say they're hungry, need help finding something, have a problem to figure out . . in other words, I can focus. (This is me trying to convince myself I won't be lonely.)

So I am off to work, limp, and wonder why in the world I didn't find one of those damn warranties so I could replace my left foot this afternoon.

ADAPT, Tami, ADAPT

Life is all about adaptation, right? Rolling with the changes. Accepting new directions. Going with the flow. And I'm trying, really, I. Am. Trying.

First of all, in yet another one of the many ongoing snafus of freelance writing, I have been paid less than half of our average income this month. That average income, of course, was just barely making it, so half? Half isn't even close. Thank goodness for a generous daughter willing to share her paychecks. Thank goodness for sons who give whatever they can. But really . . . why, oh why, oh why can't I be paid when I am supposed to be????

Second, jobs--and the search for them--are all over the place. Nicole has gone from part time to full time. Joseph has the first job he has had since we moved here in 2001. He is working 2-3 days a week at the local nursing home. Having him gone like that feels very, very strange.

The boys are applying to jobs left and right. Coryn has two job interviews next week so far. Caspian is, as I write this, riding his bike in downtown handing out resumes wherever he can. How we are going to get everyone to work with one car is still a puzzlement, but we will figure things out between cars, bikes, and mass transit.

I am rolling with it, while trying to keep up with deadlines that are speeding up fast--work IS coming in more and more these days, and I am grateful, but sometimes keeping focused is not so easy.

Adapt. Easier than it sounds.

Yawn! New Orr Schedules

For the 31 years Joseph and I have been married, we have struggled with establishing any real bedtime routines. First we were young. Then we had babies. Then we had toddlers. Then we had teenagers and I worked at home and he was retired and I was a night owl and he was a morning person and then we got older and our sleep patterns got wackier. He fell asleep, practically sitting up, but woke early, unable to go back to sleep. I fell asleep much slower, waking multiple times a night due to hot flashes. Sheeeesh. No wonder I can't really remember NOT being tired. :)

Now that is all shifting. After months of Nicole's work schedule going in all directions, she is regularly scheduled for 6 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. four days a week. This means rising at 4:45 in order to get her to work on time. Today Caspian began working full time also, and guess what? He starts at 6 also. We can't, as hard as we have tried, be in two places at one time, so three mornings a week, Caspian has to bike to work (his employer is located right next to a bike trail, fortunately).

So now, four of us are up by 5 a.m. and out the door by 5:30. (Before this? Up between 8-9 for Joseph and I, and the kids . . . well . . . you know . . . lots later.) We see the sun come up. We hear the birds start to sing. (I am grateful this is all happening as summer rolls back around, instead of plunging back into winter darkness.) After years of being a night owl, and not even thinking about crawling into bed before midnight, life is about to change. No more late nights,  I fear. I know I will get more done, and feel productive, and make my husband happy (he always wanted to rise early--puns welcome here), but it's tough for me. I like late night. I feel at peace then. I stop working. If it's daylight, I feel compelled  to be at the computer working on an assignment, and I will see a LOT more daylight hours. Ah well, life is all about change, right? It is what keeps us young, right? Don't mind me while I keep repeating this for the coming months. In between yawns, of course.

I Guess It's My Turn

I've watched my husband go through it.
I've watched my mother go through it.
I've watched various friends go through it.
I've done all I could to help, or at least just let each person know I was there.
I guess now, it's my turn.
I am . . quite honestly . .  depressed. I am struggling to get out of bed in the morning and maintain a decent attitude. I am frequently swept over by feelings of fear, sadness, hopelessness, and lethargy. Anyone who knows me knows this is NOT me. I thrive on stupid puns, raunchy jokes, inside references, and repeated laughter. This is just so NOT me, and I don't like it.
I'm eating healthy, and trying to get more rest. I am surrounded by wonderful, loving, supportive people who would, literally, do anything for me. My work is picking up, summer is coming, and all will be well. But I can't seem to see these things as clearly as I can see money problems, life changes, obstacles that feel, right now, insurmountable.
Watching someone you care about go through depression is awful.
Being that person is worse--I know that now.
I guess the key is . .  don't stop in the middle of it. Do what everyone else does and GET THROUGH IT.
Right?

I Appear to have a broken . . . thermostat.

If I was a car, it would be a fairly simple fix. I appear to have broken thermostat and it's making my life somewhat difficult.

Two years ago, when I went through menopause, I had night sweats. They were unpleasant, for sure, but I made it through them, almost willing to put up with them for the bliss of never having another period.

Now, in the last few months, I am having hot flashes again--not just at night, but during the day. Even worse, they alternate with intense freezing spells. I am so cold, it's like I can't get warm. Today, I had four blankets, a husband, a dog, and two hot packs and I was still so cold, I didn't want to move. No, no fever. No anemia. Just so damn cold. Then, in less than a full second, I can be swept over by another hot flash. Grrrrrrrrr.

This does not for a good night's sleep make, believe me. On a good night, it happens to me twice. On a bad one, five or six.

So, if you're out and about and you happen along a new human thermostat, could you pick one up for me? I'd be really grateful.