Today I took Mom back to Dad's after her 10-day visit. It was a perfect day for such a transition: temperatures only in the 60s, yellow leaves blowing off the linden tree while I was out in the garden this morning, the sky that brilliant autumn blue when it was visible through the huge, constantly-changing, mottled clouds. It feels like the end of summer in so many ways, so I'm counting this as the beginning of Fall.
I wasn't ready until today. Other people were starting to happily anticipate sweaters and falling leaves and hot drinks. But all I could think about was the onset of winter looming ever closer and mourning the eventual end of my garden. Thanks to my time at home with Mom and thanks to Mama Nature showing off the good stuff that makes me love Autumn in New England, I am now looking forward to the next couple of months.
Fall here takes its time and gives you a chance to enjoy every moment. Jeans and jackets here and there at first, but you can still hang clothes out on the line. Windows will have to be closed more and more often at night, but the zinnias will bloom until frost, and the panicle hydrangeas will continue to become increasingly pink and red. I still have time to relocate plants and grill out, but soon I'll be rekindling my October tradition of Nightly Horror Movies! I can use the oven again which means more dinner options and trying out all kinds of baking recipes I've been saving up all summer.
I'm not really looking forward to going back to work tomorrow. It's not that I don't want to go back ever, just not yet. Now that I want to enjoy these days I want to enjoy what time I have left in my garden, to get as many loads of laundry out on the line as possible, to visit more places, work on more projects around the house, take more pictures. Instead, I will just have to make the most of my nights and weekends for the next 2 or 3 months.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Why We Can't All Just Get Along
My husband was having a discussion via FB today with someone about how Obamacare was going to lead to 15 year olds getting themselves sterilized for free without parental consent. While this may be theoretically possible, it is neither a strong nor a realistic argument to discredit the need for contraceptive insurance coverage. When confronted with the idea that this was a very unrealistic extrapolation, he proceeded to draw even more illogical scenarios from Let's Pretend Land For Crazy People. He argued that voluntary free sterilization of young people would not only encourage them to engage in rampant irresponsible sex, but also to indulge in pedophilia. Furthermore, he was sure that "population control advocates" would use it to further their cause and pressure young people to get sterilized without any concern for their health or their future; and also that it would be used to promote eugenics.
This person seems to be basing political decisions on certain assumptions:
*That many people, especially young people, place so much importance on having sex that they would jump at the chance to undergo surgical sterilization procedures, to the point of having to do it without their parents' knowledge or consent if needed in the case of minors,
*That many people would engage in pedophilia if only there were some way to prevent sperm transmission permanently, and
*That there are people so obsessed with population control that they would try to force other people not to have babies if only they could use surgery to do this.
I cannot accept the validity of any of these assumptions. I won't say that there are NO people out there who are thinking these things that he's afraid they are thinking. But if these people do exist, their numbers are nowhere near large enough to qualify them as a threat to legitimate use of contraceptive surgical procedures.
The biggest problem I see here, though, has nothing to do with sex or sterilization or even Obamacare. It's a glimpse of why political arguments are so divisive: It's one thing to be in disagreement with someone because you have different values or different priorities, but it's another thing altogether to try to talk sense to someone who refuses to touch base with reality. This guy is choosing to pull imaginary scenarios from the fringes of possibility and see them as real. He is choosing to reject other possibilities which are more plausible. When actual experiences are presented to him, he ignores them and instead insists that his wildest nightmares and fears are an actual threat. I've been trying very hard to avoid name calling, but aren't these types of thoughts and behaviors hallmarks of certain definitions of crazy?
I don't really think he is medically crazy, though, which makes it that much harder to reconcile myself to people like him. It's easier (and cathartic) to just call someone an idiot, a whackjob, or a shit-for-brains when they're thinking is so far removed from anything reasonable. But it doesn't accomplish anything, and in the end you are still left with the realization that people like this guy are willing to sacrifice the overwhelming good that can come of certain policies because of their warped and demented view of other people.
So, my point is: If you're going to believe in make believe at least believe in positive, uplifting, and loving make believe that helps other people and assumes that they are worth believing in.
This person seems to be basing political decisions on certain assumptions:
*That many people, especially young people, place so much importance on having sex that they would jump at the chance to undergo surgical sterilization procedures, to the point of having to do it without their parents' knowledge or consent if needed in the case of minors,
*That many people would engage in pedophilia if only there were some way to prevent sperm transmission permanently, and
*That there are people so obsessed with population control that they would try to force other people not to have babies if only they could use surgery to do this.
I cannot accept the validity of any of these assumptions. I won't say that there are NO people out there who are thinking these things that he's afraid they are thinking. But if these people do exist, their numbers are nowhere near large enough to qualify them as a threat to legitimate use of contraceptive surgical procedures.
The biggest problem I see here, though, has nothing to do with sex or sterilization or even Obamacare. It's a glimpse of why political arguments are so divisive: It's one thing to be in disagreement with someone because you have different values or different priorities, but it's another thing altogether to try to talk sense to someone who refuses to touch base with reality. This guy is choosing to pull imaginary scenarios from the fringes of possibility and see them as real. He is choosing to reject other possibilities which are more plausible. When actual experiences are presented to him, he ignores them and instead insists that his wildest nightmares and fears are an actual threat. I've been trying very hard to avoid name calling, but aren't these types of thoughts and behaviors hallmarks of certain definitions of crazy?
I don't really think he is medically crazy, though, which makes it that much harder to reconcile myself to people like him. It's easier (and cathartic) to just call someone an idiot, a whackjob, or a shit-for-brains when they're thinking is so far removed from anything reasonable. But it doesn't accomplish anything, and in the end you are still left with the realization that people like this guy are willing to sacrifice the overwhelming good that can come of certain policies because of their warped and demented view of other people.
So, my point is: If you're going to believe in make believe at least believe in positive, uplifting, and loving make believe that helps other people and assumes that they are worth believing in.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Moment of Appreciation
I am having a big, fat Wow moment. One of my friends asked if anyone else had ever had to choose between keeping something they loved or getting rid of it because it was associated with a very bad memory. So I tried to think if I'd ever had to face that decision, and couldn't think of anything. Then I tried to come up with a list of memories I still have of very bad experiences, and that was when I had another glimpse of how good my life has been to me.
It took me a minute to even think of anything that might be a very bad memory. The first thing that came to mind was crashing someone else's car while driving their children to school. It was even worse than when I had my first accident the week before that in my own car because a) it was my fault whereas the first was not, b) it wasn't my car, and c) I had children in the car for goodness sake! I couldn't stop crying for hours. Between the two accidents I was rather skittish about being in cars for the next month or two, and I'm not sure if I did any driving during that time. But there wasn't really an object to associate with that experience, and since no one was hurt and no one hated me for what I had done, I eventually forgave myself. What felt at the time like the most unimaginable nightmare no longer has any negative hold on me other than a few little tiny pangs of guilt, especially since I never actually found out what happened to the girl in the other car. But, I know she didn't die or anything, and if she was seriously injured at all it was because she wasn't wearing a seatbelt and was speeding in town, so I never felt very guilty about that aspect anyway.
The next worst moment I could come up with was getting fired. And again, I don't know that there are any objects to associate with that. I do still have some negative feelings surrounding that moment in my life, mostly regrets and a very deep sense of loss. It changed the course of my life forever and in some very negative ways. But it didn't break me or completely ruin my life. So, while I can't exactly embrace it's life-changingness, I don't waste my time and energy anymore looking back at it and feeling hurt and vindictive. I've moved on enough that it no longer haunts my life, and there are no objects associated with it which dredge up negative feelings.
It took me longer to even think of this one, but the day my parents told Eric and I they were separating was pretty awful. Still, after the initial shock, things worked out. A large part of that was because my parents maintained a "positive" relationship with one another. So "positive," in fact, that they ended up getting back together, and then split up, and then got back together. Eventually a change in their relationship status was more likely to elicit rolled eyes and a shake of the head from Eric and I than anything else. Well, until the last time they broke up while I was living with Dad and was essentially put on suicide watch for a night. But even that period of time was left behind as our lives moved forward in ways that proved to be positive and healthy. It doesn't pain me to remember these events now.
Beyond those moments, I have a very hard time conjuring up any memories that qualify as "very bad."
Our home buying process was quite stressful, but since everything worked out in the end it doesn't seem so bad now. (Especially since I now know of another home buying process that was probably 10 times more stressful.)
I've never had a horrible break-up with anyone, or had any nightmare scenes in public with anyone. There was the fiasco of inviting A Certain Someone to a Halloween party only to discover that a number of people there knew him for various unflattering reasons. Having to kick him out because of his inappropriate behavior to my friends was quite memorable. But I would consider it a rather entertaining story now. Anything that I can laugh about now is the kind of memory that means I've had a somewhat interesting life.
There are memories that aren't exactly amusing but still part of an interesting life, the two most salient being the exchange at the Law Library that night when Wall O'Porn threatened to stalk me --oh, right, I mean his "friend"-- and the night Ralph refused to leave my room and I realized I might not be able to just beat the snot out of him physically as he was holding my head between his surprisingly strong thighs. But while these might have been somewhat serious moments and each caused my adrenaline to kick it up a notch, I was strong in each moment and took steps afterward to put a stop to those kinds of behaviors. I have no negative feelings about them now.
I don't know that I actually have any memories which now qualify as "very bad." Which is kind of not-really-haha-funny when I think about it, because it highlights a couple of things: one, the polar opposite tendencies of my brain, and two, what seem to me to be changes in that over time.
I've always had a mood swing set, with at least a slight tendency to swing a bit negative. I was a whiny child and an argumentative one, or as I might put it now "a precocious perfectionist." I complained a lot about everything from not being allowed to have candy to the injustice of my bedtime to the stupidity of nuclear bombs. But, when I reminisce about my life I generally see most things that were negative at the time as being either amusing, silly, just part of being a kid, or an inevitable learning experience in a life which has been generally pretty good. I can remember being angry, disappointed, and hurt frequently, and yet my overall impression of my childhood is happy.
And the older I got, the more happy my memories seem to be. Which is deceiving, I know. My memories of my college years, especially the grad school days, are chock full of fondness. But I know I was also miserable half the time. I just can't feel that miserableness anymore. I can still sort of feel the exhilaration, joy, satisfaction, and love of interacting with so many people: of helping raise "my kids," of the unbelievable amount of flirting I got to do working at the Law Library, of hanging out talking with interesting people at bars and parties, of having the energy to work two or more part time jobs while taking classes and still having time to go out almost every night, of spending hours smoking and drinking coffee at Longbranch while alternating between homework and visiting with people. In fact, I enjoyed being with all those people so much, that I think the withdrawal from that stimulation was the cause of many of my miserable periods.
Through everything I did and everyone I spent time with, what I had then was faith in life. My life wasn't all I wanted it to be, but I believed it could be and would be. I believed in my spiritual pursuits. I believed in my future as a teacher and caretaker of children. I believed in my friends and my town and my world. I believed in my education. I believed in my dreams. I had faith in the present and in the future.
And then I left that place and I left those people and I lost my faith. It might have happened even if I had stayed. I'll never really know. But I do know that now I tend to be very susceptible to ridiculously negative thinking where my brain is essentially saying something to the effect of, "This moment is proof that my life sucks." It could be disappointment about my garden, annoying traffic, an especially problematic book at work, a bad headache, too much cat hair floating around the house. It doesn't happen all the time: it varies, especially depending upon season of the year, time of the month, and/or weather. The same event could cause me to roll my eyes and forget it one day, dwell angrily on it all day, cry about it another day, or feel angry at first but able to talk myself into positive thoughts on yet another day. But it happens enough of the time that it is a constant worry, only now without the sense of place, social network, or faith that used to balance those things out.
In other words, my faith and my feeling of being in the right place with the right people made me more resilient. Without them, I'm far less resilient. Obviously still going because my soul isn't completely cut off and because I'm insanely stubborn, but not as resilient. Which is something I think I've discussed before, and may seem far off topic, so let me try to loop this back in with where I started.
I do NOT believe in the Happiness Movement and I do not believe we all have to be count-your-blessings-every-day, make-sure-you-always-look-on-the-bright-side, never-ever-let-a-negative-thought-get-hold-of-you people. Life is far, far too painful and complicated to always force yourself to look on the bright side and to smother your mind with platitudes about how good life is no matter what. But I am trying to restore my faith and so I do believe in trying to embrace the whole messy, wonderful, crazy thing instead of always focusing on why things aren't better and telling myself I can't be content unless everything is perfect. So I try to appreciate the moments which open my eyes and make me think, "You have had a better life than you're allowing yourself to see." Realizing that I was having trouble thinking of a bad memory and that even memories of negative experiences are not bad memories for me was one of those appreciative moments. Now, if I can just remember this feeling later when I'm being hit about the head with negative thoughts...
It took me a minute to even think of anything that might be a very bad memory. The first thing that came to mind was crashing someone else's car while driving their children to school. It was even worse than when I had my first accident the week before that in my own car because a) it was my fault whereas the first was not, b) it wasn't my car, and c) I had children in the car for goodness sake! I couldn't stop crying for hours. Between the two accidents I was rather skittish about being in cars for the next month or two, and I'm not sure if I did any driving during that time. But there wasn't really an object to associate with that experience, and since no one was hurt and no one hated me for what I had done, I eventually forgave myself. What felt at the time like the most unimaginable nightmare no longer has any negative hold on me other than a few little tiny pangs of guilt, especially since I never actually found out what happened to the girl in the other car. But, I know she didn't die or anything, and if she was seriously injured at all it was because she wasn't wearing a seatbelt and was speeding in town, so I never felt very guilty about that aspect anyway.
The next worst moment I could come up with was getting fired. And again, I don't know that there are any objects to associate with that. I do still have some negative feelings surrounding that moment in my life, mostly regrets and a very deep sense of loss. It changed the course of my life forever and in some very negative ways. But it didn't break me or completely ruin my life. So, while I can't exactly embrace it's life-changingness, I don't waste my time and energy anymore looking back at it and feeling hurt and vindictive. I've moved on enough that it no longer haunts my life, and there are no objects associated with it which dredge up negative feelings.
It took me longer to even think of this one, but the day my parents told Eric and I they were separating was pretty awful. Still, after the initial shock, things worked out. A large part of that was because my parents maintained a "positive" relationship with one another. So "positive," in fact, that they ended up getting back together, and then split up, and then got back together. Eventually a change in their relationship status was more likely to elicit rolled eyes and a shake of the head from Eric and I than anything else. Well, until the last time they broke up while I was living with Dad and was essentially put on suicide watch for a night. But even that period of time was left behind as our lives moved forward in ways that proved to be positive and healthy. It doesn't pain me to remember these events now.
Beyond those moments, I have a very hard time conjuring up any memories that qualify as "very bad."
Our home buying process was quite stressful, but since everything worked out in the end it doesn't seem so bad now. (Especially since I now know of another home buying process that was probably 10 times more stressful.)
I've never had a horrible break-up with anyone, or had any nightmare scenes in public with anyone. There was the fiasco of inviting A Certain Someone to a Halloween party only to discover that a number of people there knew him for various unflattering reasons. Having to kick him out because of his inappropriate behavior to my friends was quite memorable. But I would consider it a rather entertaining story now. Anything that I can laugh about now is the kind of memory that means I've had a somewhat interesting life.
There are memories that aren't exactly amusing but still part of an interesting life, the two most salient being the exchange at the Law Library that night when Wall O'Porn threatened to stalk me --oh, right, I mean his "friend"-- and the night Ralph refused to leave my room and I realized I might not be able to just beat the snot out of him physically as he was holding my head between his surprisingly strong thighs. But while these might have been somewhat serious moments and each caused my adrenaline to kick it up a notch, I was strong in each moment and took steps afterward to put a stop to those kinds of behaviors. I have no negative feelings about them now.
I don't know that I actually have any memories which now qualify as "very bad." Which is kind of not-really-haha-funny when I think about it, because it highlights a couple of things: one, the polar opposite tendencies of my brain, and two, what seem to me to be changes in that over time.
I've always had a mood swing set, with at least a slight tendency to swing a bit negative. I was a whiny child and an argumentative one, or as I might put it now "a precocious perfectionist." I complained a lot about everything from not being allowed to have candy to the injustice of my bedtime to the stupidity of nuclear bombs. But, when I reminisce about my life I generally see most things that were negative at the time as being either amusing, silly, just part of being a kid, or an inevitable learning experience in a life which has been generally pretty good. I can remember being angry, disappointed, and hurt frequently, and yet my overall impression of my childhood is happy.
And the older I got, the more happy my memories seem to be. Which is deceiving, I know. My memories of my college years, especially the grad school days, are chock full of fondness. But I know I was also miserable half the time. I just can't feel that miserableness anymore. I can still sort of feel the exhilaration, joy, satisfaction, and love of interacting with so many people: of helping raise "my kids," of the unbelievable amount of flirting I got to do working at the Law Library, of hanging out talking with interesting people at bars and parties, of having the energy to work two or more part time jobs while taking classes and still having time to go out almost every night, of spending hours smoking and drinking coffee at Longbranch while alternating between homework and visiting with people. In fact, I enjoyed being with all those people so much, that I think the withdrawal from that stimulation was the cause of many of my miserable periods.
Through everything I did and everyone I spent time with, what I had then was faith in life. My life wasn't all I wanted it to be, but I believed it could be and would be. I believed in my spiritual pursuits. I believed in my future as a teacher and caretaker of children. I believed in my friends and my town and my world. I believed in my education. I believed in my dreams. I had faith in the present and in the future.
And then I left that place and I left those people and I lost my faith. It might have happened even if I had stayed. I'll never really know. But I do know that now I tend to be very susceptible to ridiculously negative thinking where my brain is essentially saying something to the effect of, "This moment is proof that my life sucks." It could be disappointment about my garden, annoying traffic, an especially problematic book at work, a bad headache, too much cat hair floating around the house. It doesn't happen all the time: it varies, especially depending upon season of the year, time of the month, and/or weather. The same event could cause me to roll my eyes and forget it one day, dwell angrily on it all day, cry about it another day, or feel angry at first but able to talk myself into positive thoughts on yet another day. But it happens enough of the time that it is a constant worry, only now without the sense of place, social network, or faith that used to balance those things out.
In other words, my faith and my feeling of being in the right place with the right people made me more resilient. Without them, I'm far less resilient. Obviously still going because my soul isn't completely cut off and because I'm insanely stubborn, but not as resilient. Which is something I think I've discussed before, and may seem far off topic, so let me try to loop this back in with where I started.
I do NOT believe in the Happiness Movement and I do not believe we all have to be count-your-blessings-every-day, make-sure-you-always-look-on-the-bright-side, never-ever-let-a-negative-thought-get-hold-of-you people. Life is far, far too painful and complicated to always force yourself to look on the bright side and to smother your mind with platitudes about how good life is no matter what. But I am trying to restore my faith and so I do believe in trying to embrace the whole messy, wonderful, crazy thing instead of always focusing on why things aren't better and telling myself I can't be content unless everything is perfect. So I try to appreciate the moments which open my eyes and make me think, "You have had a better life than you're allowing yourself to see." Realizing that I was having trouble thinking of a bad memory and that even memories of negative experiences are not bad memories for me was one of those appreciative moments. Now, if I can just remember this feeling later when I'm being hit about the head with negative thoughts...
Monday, July 30, 2012
Garden Woes/Whoas
I'm feeling down about the garden today. I'm trying not to let the negative urges get to me--I had a pretty good day otherwise. But for some reason I got really bummed out about my garden after doing the evening rounds when I got home from work.
My tomato seedlings were quite pathetic this year, and most of them have hardly grown since their first potting up, let alone since they've been in the ground. The two that have actually shown some initiative don't even have any flowers yet, and it's almost August! The bush buttercup squashes got some nice big leaves, albeit only a couple of inches off the ground, then put out a few flowers and then...plbt. The leaves are starting to go pale and the flowers closed back up with no fertile female bumps promising future fruits. The honeydew melons I started haven't gotten any bigger than the first set of true leaves that they put out about a month or so ago. And despite all kinds of protection and help, the basil is struggling. I should have put them up off the ground in containers, since the only ones that did well last year were the container-grown ones. But NO, I had faith in my protective cup covers (and was using all the containers for other things, anyway).
I prepped their beds with expensive organic composts and soils and manures. I mulched them well and tried to water them well enough. But I think our nights have been too cool, our rain has been too scarce, and I suspect at least some of the seeds were inferior. So I can try to console myself by concluding that it isn't my fault, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept: I think this year's food garden is going to be mostly a failure. And it makes me want to cry.
The flowers haven't turned out as well as I'd hoped, either. The astilbe struggled along despite being babied with extra water, and finally has died off completely. The two lime heucheras are practically dead, and the two peach heucheras are being munched to within an inch of their life. I finally got some Neem, but as soon as I started treating all the munched plants, the rains finally returned. My calendulas never showed any real signs of growth and now what little leafage they had is being eaten away. The sages were avoiding predation really well until about a week ago. Out of dozens of strawflowers transplanted out, less than half a dozen ended up surviving the bugs, diggers, and excessive early heat waves, and only two have enough growth to be showing signs of flowers. So many other things never flowered at all, or didn't spread like I thought they would, or died off too quickly. The final batch of nasturtium seeds FINALLY produced numerous sets of leaves but not a sign of flowers as they start showing signs of dying off. So many disappointments in the rest of the garden as well this year.
Not only does it make me want to cry: sometimes it makes me want to give up, too.
But I have two factors fighting against that. 1) My will. 2) A very long winter approaching.
As much time as I may spend staring out the window with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, feeling lost in the despair and melancholy of not being able to create the enchanting tableaux I imagined after devoting so much time and effort (and money); as much as I might swear and tear at the ground with my bare hands in frustration and desperation; as fast as my heart may beat in anger when I look around and see nothing but annoying work to be done and nothing to show for it, these are all temporary reactions. They are also the flash points that lead to progress. When the time comes to make the decision to forge ahead or forget the whole thing, I'm not going to give up! I'm not going to lose what ground I've managed to gain! I may not be able to see any accomplishments in those moments of desperation, but I am aware that I will be able to see them later when my head is in a better place. And I don't want to lose them. So I either push myself forward or wait until I'm in that better mental place, and then take on each challenge as best I can, keeping some hope alive that with time and patience things will steadily improve.
Time and patience and hope are really important in the Land of Long Winters. All that time stuck indoors surrounded by brown and white makes me long for growing things --long for them so much that most of the mistakes and disappointments of the past get pushed aside and pooh-poohed, because THIS year is going to be different. This year I'm going to try something new. This year is going to be the year that something which failed me in the past is going to surprise me with wondrous bounty. This year the weather is going to be lucky. This year I'm going to start things earlier. But since I can't start them too early, I have months in which to plan, and in planning I have hours upon hours to reflect upon what I've learned, especially what I can learn from mistakes. I can reevaluate whether things should be moved in the spring, or divided. Which combinations worked and which didn't. Which ones might work if I tweak them a little. I enjoy planning as much, if not more, than actually doing. So, Winter is gloriously ripe for dreaming of gardens yet to be and of turning those dreams into lists, diagrams, more lists, collages of little printed pictures and catalog cutouts, more lists...
Of course, the next year is going to be a little different. I will really have to focus on being smarter and resourceful, rather than indulging my penchant for garden abundance. Even though the news from the surgeon is better than our worst case scenario, Tim's hernia surgery is still going to cost us dearly in multiple financial ways. There will be no new bulbs this fall. There will be no boxes of seedlings arriving on my doorstep in the fall or the spring. There won't even be any shopping sprees at local nurseries. Next year will be a year of seeing which of the remaining seeds from previous years are still viable, of using my digging days to divide any good candidates, of experimenting with new locations for plants that aren't as happy as I think they could be, and of keeping an eye on the development of all the plants I've adopted so far. It's going to be incredibly hard for me. I'm a garden glutton. But I can do it. There will probably be whining, and pouting, certainly some melancholy, almost definitely some anger and resentment, and probably even tears. But it will be good for me, and next year I just might have my best garden yet.
My tomato seedlings were quite pathetic this year, and most of them have hardly grown since their first potting up, let alone since they've been in the ground. The two that have actually shown some initiative don't even have any flowers yet, and it's almost August! The bush buttercup squashes got some nice big leaves, albeit only a couple of inches off the ground, then put out a few flowers and then...plbt. The leaves are starting to go pale and the flowers closed back up with no fertile female bumps promising future fruits. The honeydew melons I started haven't gotten any bigger than the first set of true leaves that they put out about a month or so ago. And despite all kinds of protection and help, the basil is struggling. I should have put them up off the ground in containers, since the only ones that did well last year were the container-grown ones. But NO, I had faith in my protective cup covers (and was using all the containers for other things, anyway).
I prepped their beds with expensive organic composts and soils and manures. I mulched them well and tried to water them well enough. But I think our nights have been too cool, our rain has been too scarce, and I suspect at least some of the seeds were inferior. So I can try to console myself by concluding that it isn't my fault, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept: I think this year's food garden is going to be mostly a failure. And it makes me want to cry.
The flowers haven't turned out as well as I'd hoped, either. The astilbe struggled along despite being babied with extra water, and finally has died off completely. The two lime heucheras are practically dead, and the two peach heucheras are being munched to within an inch of their life. I finally got some Neem, but as soon as I started treating all the munched plants, the rains finally returned. My calendulas never showed any real signs of growth and now what little leafage they had is being eaten away. The sages were avoiding predation really well until about a week ago. Out of dozens of strawflowers transplanted out, less than half a dozen ended up surviving the bugs, diggers, and excessive early heat waves, and only two have enough growth to be showing signs of flowers. So many other things never flowered at all, or didn't spread like I thought they would, or died off too quickly. The final batch of nasturtium seeds FINALLY produced numerous sets of leaves but not a sign of flowers as they start showing signs of dying off. So many disappointments in the rest of the garden as well this year.
Not only does it make me want to cry: sometimes it makes me want to give up, too.
But I have two factors fighting against that. 1) My will. 2) A very long winter approaching.
As much time as I may spend staring out the window with red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, feeling lost in the despair and melancholy of not being able to create the enchanting tableaux I imagined after devoting so much time and effort (and money); as much as I might swear and tear at the ground with my bare hands in frustration and desperation; as fast as my heart may beat in anger when I look around and see nothing but annoying work to be done and nothing to show for it, these are all temporary reactions. They are also the flash points that lead to progress. When the time comes to make the decision to forge ahead or forget the whole thing, I'm not going to give up! I'm not going to lose what ground I've managed to gain! I may not be able to see any accomplishments in those moments of desperation, but I am aware that I will be able to see them later when my head is in a better place. And I don't want to lose them. So I either push myself forward or wait until I'm in that better mental place, and then take on each challenge as best I can, keeping some hope alive that with time and patience things will steadily improve.
Time and patience and hope are really important in the Land of Long Winters. All that time stuck indoors surrounded by brown and white makes me long for growing things --long for them so much that most of the mistakes and disappointments of the past get pushed aside and pooh-poohed, because THIS year is going to be different. This year I'm going to try something new. This year is going to be the year that something which failed me in the past is going to surprise me with wondrous bounty. This year the weather is going to be lucky. This year I'm going to start things earlier. But since I can't start them too early, I have months in which to plan, and in planning I have hours upon hours to reflect upon what I've learned, especially what I can learn from mistakes. I can reevaluate whether things should be moved in the spring, or divided. Which combinations worked and which didn't. Which ones might work if I tweak them a little. I enjoy planning as much, if not more, than actually doing. So, Winter is gloriously ripe for dreaming of gardens yet to be and of turning those dreams into lists, diagrams, more lists, collages of little printed pictures and catalog cutouts, more lists...
Of course, the next year is going to be a little different. I will really have to focus on being smarter and resourceful, rather than indulging my penchant for garden abundance. Even though the news from the surgeon is better than our worst case scenario, Tim's hernia surgery is still going to cost us dearly in multiple financial ways. There will be no new bulbs this fall. There will be no boxes of seedlings arriving on my doorstep in the fall or the spring. There won't even be any shopping sprees at local nurseries. Next year will be a year of seeing which of the remaining seeds from previous years are still viable, of using my digging days to divide any good candidates, of experimenting with new locations for plants that aren't as happy as I think they could be, and of keeping an eye on the development of all the plants I've adopted so far. It's going to be incredibly hard for me. I'm a garden glutton. But I can do it. There will probably be whining, and pouting, certainly some melancholy, almost definitely some anger and resentment, and probably even tears. But it will be good for me, and next year I just might have my best garden yet.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
I'm Still Standing
Well, not really. Right now I'm sitting on my butt. But, at work today I rigged up my desk so I'd be able to work standing up. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to hold out, seeing as how it's the first day and all. But I'm happy to say I got to work at 6:45 and stayed mostly on my feet until almost 12:45. (I sat down while I was on break, and I sat in my chair for a minute or two a few times while perusing books I was working on. But that was it.)
I wanted to make this change to a) burn more calories than sitting, and b) help my body in a variety of other ways.
I suspected that standing would be better for my stomach since it wouldn't be compressed by sitting all day. It also makes breathing easier because my torso is more open. I can get deeper breaths with less effort, and even my regular breathing seems a bit more relaxed and deeper. (I still have trouble remembering to breathe, but at least this might help when I do.) Plus, I'm assuming that standing will encourage strengthening of my core muscles.
Standing also allows, and encourages, moving more of my whole body. Now I can add lower body movements when I'm "sort of dancing" while I work instead of just moving my shoulders and head. The pressure on my legs and feet encourages me to move them more, and the "sort of dancing" seems to work best for alleviating pressure. I can hold a book in my hands and actually walk around a teeny bit while skimming the material I need to look at. I did buy some gel inserts tonight, though. Even with the relative increase in my freedom of movement, it's still mostly standing, which is harder on my feet and legs than bigger movements like walking.
The only other potential problem is my elbows and shoulders. But, I was having some problems with them even when sitting. At least when I'm standing it seems easier to just take a few seconds to do some stretching. My monitor needs some sort of stand to raise it a few inches, though, so the angle of my neck could be a contributing factor, too.
There are some revealing repercussions of the change which I didn't anticipate, though. For example, I had no idea just how deep my laziness has become. The first time I had to bend down to put paper in my recycling crate under my desk my split-second thought was, "Hmm, should I move that so I don't have to lean over?" Then it occurred to me how ridiculous it sounded to be complaining about having to bend over! That's how lazy sitting at a desk all day has made me! It takes a little extra effort to do other things like bend over to put books on a cart or reach over things to get a post-it note. But after a few more times of instinctively thinking, "Should I move that someplace more convenient?" I started getting used to exerting myself in small, new ways.
There's also a psychological factor. It feels a bit strange, especially since the aesthetics of my set up are pretty lacking (I'm using a gray crate to support the keyboard and an old copy paper box as a raised work surface to write on and to lay books on). But it also feels...liberating. The freedom of movement brings a surprisingly strong feeling of freedom in general. I suddenly don't feel like it's just another day of "drudgery at a desk." I had some hazy flashbacks to working at the Circulation Desk at the library; there was a sense of animation and every minute standing there contained the potential for having something to do at any moment. This is sort of like that. I'm curious to see if this sense of freedom and potential wears off once I get acclimated to the new set-up and its novelty fades.
___
On the food front, I'm feeling pretty good. Tonight's dinner was a 6 oz. package of Baby Bella mushrooms sauteed in a drizzle of olive oil with some garlic powder and other spices, some lemon & spinach couscous, and a slice of rosemary & olive oil bread with a little Chevrie goat cheese spread on it. DELISH! I had a single serving of eggplant parm for dinner last night and the other serving for lunch today. Celentano frozen eggplant parm = mouth-watering yumminess! I've had sweet potato fries this week, and fish, and even made it halfway through my cream-only iced coffee from Dunkins before I added a little bit of Truvia. Granted, the cream adds calories, but it also contributes protein and helped me feel fuller throughout the morning. It does a better job of suppressing hunger and sugar cravings than unsweetened iced tea. Another happy lesson learned this week: Chobani Blood Orange yogurt has the right blend of tart and sweet, unlike their Lemon yogurt which is too tart. Most importantly, the Blood Orange seems to be the only yogurt I've tried in the past year or two which doesn't lead to mild stomach pain/bloating. It's also more satisfying and more nutritious than Pop Tarts. So, more Blood Orange yogurt it is then.
I've felt hungry more frequently this week, but never too much and never for too long. And when I think about the difference between feeling a little bit hungry and feeling uncomfortable because I ended up eating too much or the wrong things, I kind of prefer the hunger. It also encourages me to drink more water to temporarily quell the hunger. I'm sure there will be times, especially once I've been doing this for awhile, when the hunger will make me crabby. But we'll see how I decide to deal with those times when they arrive.
I wanted to make this change to a) burn more calories than sitting, and b) help my body in a variety of other ways.
I suspected that standing would be better for my stomach since it wouldn't be compressed by sitting all day. It also makes breathing easier because my torso is more open. I can get deeper breaths with less effort, and even my regular breathing seems a bit more relaxed and deeper. (I still have trouble remembering to breathe, but at least this might help when I do.) Plus, I'm assuming that standing will encourage strengthening of my core muscles.
Standing also allows, and encourages, moving more of my whole body. Now I can add lower body movements when I'm "sort of dancing" while I work instead of just moving my shoulders and head. The pressure on my legs and feet encourages me to move them more, and the "sort of dancing" seems to work best for alleviating pressure. I can hold a book in my hands and actually walk around a teeny bit while skimming the material I need to look at. I did buy some gel inserts tonight, though. Even with the relative increase in my freedom of movement, it's still mostly standing, which is harder on my feet and legs than bigger movements like walking.
The only other potential problem is my elbows and shoulders. But, I was having some problems with them even when sitting. At least when I'm standing it seems easier to just take a few seconds to do some stretching. My monitor needs some sort of stand to raise it a few inches, though, so the angle of my neck could be a contributing factor, too.
There are some revealing repercussions of the change which I didn't anticipate, though. For example, I had no idea just how deep my laziness has become. The first time I had to bend down to put paper in my recycling crate under my desk my split-second thought was, "Hmm, should I move that so I don't have to lean over?" Then it occurred to me how ridiculous it sounded to be complaining about having to bend over! That's how lazy sitting at a desk all day has made me! It takes a little extra effort to do other things like bend over to put books on a cart or reach over things to get a post-it note. But after a few more times of instinctively thinking, "Should I move that someplace more convenient?" I started getting used to exerting myself in small, new ways.
There's also a psychological factor. It feels a bit strange, especially since the aesthetics of my set up are pretty lacking (I'm using a gray crate to support the keyboard and an old copy paper box as a raised work surface to write on and to lay books on). But it also feels...liberating. The freedom of movement brings a surprisingly strong feeling of freedom in general. I suddenly don't feel like it's just another day of "drudgery at a desk." I had some hazy flashbacks to working at the Circulation Desk at the library; there was a sense of animation and every minute standing there contained the potential for having something to do at any moment. This is sort of like that. I'm curious to see if this sense of freedom and potential wears off once I get acclimated to the new set-up and its novelty fades.
___
On the food front, I'm feeling pretty good. Tonight's dinner was a 6 oz. package of Baby Bella mushrooms sauteed in a drizzle of olive oil with some garlic powder and other spices, some lemon & spinach couscous, and a slice of rosemary & olive oil bread with a little Chevrie goat cheese spread on it. DELISH! I had a single serving of eggplant parm for dinner last night and the other serving for lunch today. Celentano frozen eggplant parm = mouth-watering yumminess! I've had sweet potato fries this week, and fish, and even made it halfway through my cream-only iced coffee from Dunkins before I added a little bit of Truvia. Granted, the cream adds calories, but it also contributes protein and helped me feel fuller throughout the morning. It does a better job of suppressing hunger and sugar cravings than unsweetened iced tea. Another happy lesson learned this week: Chobani Blood Orange yogurt has the right blend of tart and sweet, unlike their Lemon yogurt which is too tart. Most importantly, the Blood Orange seems to be the only yogurt I've tried in the past year or two which doesn't lead to mild stomach pain/bloating. It's also more satisfying and more nutritious than Pop Tarts. So, more Blood Orange yogurt it is then.
I've felt hungry more frequently this week, but never too much and never for too long. And when I think about the difference between feeling a little bit hungry and feeling uncomfortable because I ended up eating too much or the wrong things, I kind of prefer the hunger. It also encourages me to drink more water to temporarily quell the hunger. I'm sure there will be times, especially once I've been doing this for awhile, when the hunger will make me crabby. But we'll see how I decide to deal with those times when they arrive.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Team Servo
Today was the initial weigh in and the official start of our Biggest Loser "competition" at work. When I read the first email about it a couple of weeks ago I started snickering and rolling my eyes. But, in the back of my head I was thinking, "I've been somewhat preoccupied recently with thoughts of eating more vegetables, limiting sugar, trying to get some exercise, and all that. Maybe...? Nah! But maybe..." And then they mentioned money. It wasn't so much the opportunity to win one of the prizes for individual or team weight loss. It was the announcement that 12 weeks after the end of the 12-week main program participants will be weighed to see how much weight loss they have maintained, and the company will pay $5 for each pound we have kept off AND $5 per pound for any additional weight lost. That was the critical factor. One of my friends was already interested in forming a team, so we convinced another friend to join us (since the minimum team size was three people) and then spent about 3 days trying to decide on a name. And thus "Team Servo" was born.
I have no idea what strategies other people will be using, and quite frankly, I don't care. I've spent almost my entire life --at least 30 years, if not more-- dealing with my fat body. That's a lot of self-reflection, a lot of tested willpower, a lot of calorie counting, a lot of food measuring, and most importantly, a lot of learning from experience. So there are certain things I already know about what I can and can't handle that no one can change by blowing sunshine up my ass.
*I know that weighing and measuring food diligently, counting calories, and recording everything that goes into my mouth creates obsessive thoughts about food. It becomes something that stays on my mind all day, every day. This preoccupation with food also encourages a focus on deprivation, and I tend to end up craving things I normally wouldn't even think about simply because I "can't have them." This happens every. single. time.
*There will be absolutely NO invoking of the phrase "I can't eat that." There will be NO mention or discussion of "being on a diet." Everyone is "on" a diet. Your diet is whatever you consume. Where your diet falls on the spectrum of Unnaturally Healthy to Suicidally Unhealthy varies widely, so the challenge is to move it to a more reasonable point on the Healthy end.
*I have learned enough to know what is and isn't a reasonable portion, and would rather focus thoughts of food on finding delicious new ways to prepare vegetables, drinking more water and getting my caffeine from unsweetened tea, basing meals on lower-fat proteins, etc. while reducing the portion sizes of less-healthy foods and limiting the number and serving sizes of indulgences. This is the key challenge for many reasons:
And all that incidental activity makes a huge difference when compared to doing nothing but sitting all day. Every job I ever had until this one required some degree of lifting, carrying, crouching, walking, pushing, and standing. This job, however, requires sitting for 8 hours every day, and also requires sitting in a car for 2 hours a day. That's 10 full hours of sitting. Sure I get two 15 minute breaks, and I take 30 minutes for lunch. But lunch is for eating and is not negotiable. Breaks--well, that depends upon the weather and how much I need the mental health break of hanging out with my friends. Sacrificing what little social time I have in my daily life has it's own negative repercussions.
So, where do and how do I fit in the exercise? Because, I actually want to do this. I just can't figure out how. I already get up between 4 and 4:30 to get ready for work. Getting up earlier is out of the question. I usually get home between 4:30 and 5. From about April until about October, the first order of business after getting home is to check "the garden" (meaning the entire area of front, back, and both side yards). I usually don't even get into the house until after 5. There's the whole dinner issue, and we have our nightly ritual Doctor Who episode, and then the race against the clock is on since my goal is to start getting ready for bed by 8. What can I do in that remaining hour or two that I would even want to do?
And how long do I have to wait after eating? The Mayo Clinic website recommends allowing 2-3 hours between a small meal and exercise, so even assuming that my dinners are small I don't have enough time according to their guidelines.
Okay, so I ignore the possibility of diverting too much blood flow from digestion and I exercise anyway. What can I do that I would enjoy enough to keep doing it? And that I would enjoy enough to not feel like I was sacrificing a large chunk of what precious little free time I have during the average day?
I love bike riding, but I'm not sure where I could ride that traffic wouldn't be a problem. And of course, I would have to buy a bicycle. And figure out where to store it during the 6 months of the year it's too snowy and/or cold to ride.
I really want to do yoga, but I'm not sure I can find a class that fits into my schedule. Or my budget, since any form of exercise pretty much has to cost me, um, absolutely nothing. Which is another reason the bike is more or less out.
There's the high quality treadmill I spent $1500 on as soon as we moved into the house that I haven't used for a couple of years. And there's the reason why I haven't used it, namely that the only place we can make it fit is a corner of the dining room where I am looking at a wall. If we could fit it in the library where the tv is, or in the sunroom where I could watch the sun set or where we could put the tv, or if we could put it in the part of the dining room that would allow me to look into the sunroom.... We've discussed all of these options multiple times and decided we didn't like everything that would have to change to make it work. But, it is at least one option to reconsider, I guess.
There's always walking around the neighborhood. Which always sounds like a good idea, and is probably one of the best options. Again, for the 6 months or less out of the year when it's both light enough and weather-friendly to do so. This is pretty much the only viable option I can come up with besides figuring out how to make the treadmill more appealing.
My other idea is to rig up a way to make it possible for me to work standing up in my cubicle. It's not "exercise," but it's absolutely better than sitting all day in lots of ways. I took some measurements today, and it shouldn't be too difficult. What I have in mind should even allow me to switch back and forth between sitting and standing within just a minute or two. I was hoping to scour the house tonight in the hopes of finding the right materials and to be able to try it tomorrow. But instead I'm up past my bedtime writing, and haven't accomplished jack in terms of either exercising or adapting my cubicle. So now I'm crabby, and this was supposed to be a positive, inspiring entry. I better go while there's still some chance of salvaging my mood. Sorry if there are any typos--I'm not even previewing this one.
I have no idea what strategies other people will be using, and quite frankly, I don't care. I've spent almost my entire life --at least 30 years, if not more-- dealing with my fat body. That's a lot of self-reflection, a lot of tested willpower, a lot of calorie counting, a lot of food measuring, and most importantly, a lot of learning from experience. So there are certain things I already know about what I can and can't handle that no one can change by blowing sunshine up my ass.
*I know that weighing and measuring food diligently, counting calories, and recording everything that goes into my mouth creates obsessive thoughts about food. It becomes something that stays on my mind all day, every day. This preoccupation with food also encourages a focus on deprivation, and I tend to end up craving things I normally wouldn't even think about simply because I "can't have them." This happens every. single. time.
*There will be absolutely NO invoking of the phrase "I can't eat that." There will be NO mention or discussion of "being on a diet." Everyone is "on" a diet. Your diet is whatever you consume. Where your diet falls on the spectrum of Unnaturally Healthy to Suicidally Unhealthy varies widely, so the challenge is to move it to a more reasonable point on the Healthy end.
*I have learned enough to know what is and isn't a reasonable portion, and would rather focus thoughts of food on finding delicious new ways to prepare vegetables, drinking more water and getting my caffeine from unsweetened tea, basing meals on lower-fat proteins, etc. while reducing the portion sizes of less-healthy foods and limiting the number and serving sizes of indulgences. This is the key challenge for many reasons:
- I really don't like vegetables that much without cheese sauce, Ranch dressing, or a crunchy fried breading, and my mouth often has the gustatory equivalent of an orgasm when given fats and carbs.
- I am one of those people whose body doesn't know when to stop eating until it is too late. I've made some progress on this in the past and this is another chance to increase my level of "mindfulness" regarding the relationship between my brain, my mouth, and my stomach. I tend to eat with my mouth, meaning I let my taste buds make the decisions. My mouth believes that if one bite tastes that good, 30 bites will taste 30 times as good, and more of a good thing is always better. I need to stop listening to my mouth and let my brain and my stomach get a word in before it's too late. I also need to find mouth-wateringly delicious ways to prepare healthy foods.
- Preparing these healthy menu items that taste awesome, especially vegetables, generally requires time and effort, neither of which I have enough of when I get home from work (or before work, or during work). By the time I get home, Tim is generally about ready to gnaw his own hands off. Add that to the fact that we have about 3 hours until bedtime (if I don't have to work late or run errands after work) and the race is on to get ourselves fed in enough time to digest dinner. This is also a factor in trying to find time for exercise, which is the other part of my "strategy."
And all that incidental activity makes a huge difference when compared to doing nothing but sitting all day. Every job I ever had until this one required some degree of lifting, carrying, crouching, walking, pushing, and standing. This job, however, requires sitting for 8 hours every day, and also requires sitting in a car for 2 hours a day. That's 10 full hours of sitting. Sure I get two 15 minute breaks, and I take 30 minutes for lunch. But lunch is for eating and is not negotiable. Breaks--well, that depends upon the weather and how much I need the mental health break of hanging out with my friends. Sacrificing what little social time I have in my daily life has it's own negative repercussions.
So, where do and how do I fit in the exercise? Because, I actually want to do this. I just can't figure out how. I already get up between 4 and 4:30 to get ready for work. Getting up earlier is out of the question. I usually get home between 4:30 and 5. From about April until about October, the first order of business after getting home is to check "the garden" (meaning the entire area of front, back, and both side yards). I usually don't even get into the house until after 5. There's the whole dinner issue, and we have our nightly ritual Doctor Who episode, and then the race against the clock is on since my goal is to start getting ready for bed by 8. What can I do in that remaining hour or two that I would even want to do?
And how long do I have to wait after eating? The Mayo Clinic website recommends allowing 2-3 hours between a small meal and exercise, so even assuming that my dinners are small I don't have enough time according to their guidelines.
Okay, so I ignore the possibility of diverting too much blood flow from digestion and I exercise anyway. What can I do that I would enjoy enough to keep doing it? And that I would enjoy enough to not feel like I was sacrificing a large chunk of what precious little free time I have during the average day?
I love bike riding, but I'm not sure where I could ride that traffic wouldn't be a problem. And of course, I would have to buy a bicycle. And figure out where to store it during the 6 months of the year it's too snowy and/or cold to ride.
I really want to do yoga, but I'm not sure I can find a class that fits into my schedule. Or my budget, since any form of exercise pretty much has to cost me, um, absolutely nothing. Which is another reason the bike is more or less out.
There's the high quality treadmill I spent $1500 on as soon as we moved into the house that I haven't used for a couple of years. And there's the reason why I haven't used it, namely that the only place we can make it fit is a corner of the dining room where I am looking at a wall. If we could fit it in the library where the tv is, or in the sunroom where I could watch the sun set or where we could put the tv, or if we could put it in the part of the dining room that would allow me to look into the sunroom.... We've discussed all of these options multiple times and decided we didn't like everything that would have to change to make it work. But, it is at least one option to reconsider, I guess.
There's always walking around the neighborhood. Which always sounds like a good idea, and is probably one of the best options. Again, for the 6 months or less out of the year when it's both light enough and weather-friendly to do so. This is pretty much the only viable option I can come up with besides figuring out how to make the treadmill more appealing.
My other idea is to rig up a way to make it possible for me to work standing up in my cubicle. It's not "exercise," but it's absolutely better than sitting all day in lots of ways. I took some measurements today, and it shouldn't be too difficult. What I have in mind should even allow me to switch back and forth between sitting and standing within just a minute or two. I was hoping to scour the house tonight in the hopes of finding the right materials and to be able to try it tomorrow. But instead I'm up past my bedtime writing, and haven't accomplished jack in terms of either exercising or adapting my cubicle. So now I'm crabby, and this was supposed to be a positive, inspiring entry. I better go while there's still some chance of salvaging my mood. Sorry if there are any typos--I'm not even previewing this one.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Achoo
So, allergies. Huh. Somehow when you pay someone to perform medical tests to tell you officially what you sort of knew anyway, it suddenly makes things seem more serious --or at least encourages you to start taking things more seriously. It turns out I'm allergic to ragweed, trees, mixed weeds, mixed molds, phoma mold, cats, dogs, mixed animals, dust mites, and highly allergic to dust.
Now I have to decide what to change and how. I essentially have 3 choices, or some combination thereof. I can either a) use $30 a month of my HRA money to use Flonase for the foreseeable future, with additional allergy pills and eyedrops on a fairly regular basis to control the acute attacks, b) suck up the rest of my HRA money in short order (and then have to start actually paying some of my medical expenses out of pocket) so I can start doing allergy shots for 4-5 years, or c) spend a buttload of money on a new air purifier, new vacuum cleaner, dust mite casings, etc. AND start cleaning regularly and changing the sheets every couple of weeks. That's like, 4-6 times more often than I do now. And it's a lot more laundry. And we're talking way, way, way more cleaning than I do now. With a mask. And trying to convince the cats that after 11 years they can no longer sleep next to me in bed. And keeping the windows closed most of the months of the year that it's finally warm enough to have them open.
So, essentially, the "allergen avoidance" route means adopting a new lifestyle completely antithetical to my current mode of existence. I'm not thrilled about that prospect.
On the other hand, I'm not thrilled about being reliant on pharmaceuticals for the rest of my life in order to function.
And while I generally like the idea of using drugs to improve the functioning of my own immune system by using the shots, I'm not necessarily thrilled about the expense (and time for all those appointments) of doing this for 5 years, especially since it doesn't guarantee I'll be "cured" for the rest of my life.
In all this, I'm remembering that my dentist told me I must have an incredible immune system to have gone 11 years without any dental care and still have strong, healthy teeth. Hmmmm.
And speaking of teeth, I was waiting to figure out where the allergy issue was going so I could move on to making decisions about getting my now-partially-erupted wisdom tooth removed and getting new glasses, since it's been about 3-4 years since I got my eyes checked and got these glasses. Oh, yeah, and Gytha needs to go to the vet sooner or later about her bald spot. I'm glad I didn't go ahead and place my Bluestone Perennials order last night.
~sigh~
~SIGH~
And I still haven't bought a sun light for my seasonal depression issues. Which I was seriously regretting a week or so ago.
~sigh~
Most of this has to do with money, and how I don't have enough to just do everything. I've got this much money that I need to stretch out to tttttttttt hhhhhhhhhhhhh iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ssssssssssssss much. Granted (hahahaha, if only) we should get a decent tax refund that can go to paying off things like a new vacuum cleaner. But that was already supposed to pay down my credit cards and replace my depleted savings account.
~SIGH~
If only writing about things actually made them better...
Now I have to decide what to change and how. I essentially have 3 choices, or some combination thereof. I can either a) use $30 a month of my HRA money to use Flonase for the foreseeable future, with additional allergy pills and eyedrops on a fairly regular basis to control the acute attacks, b) suck up the rest of my HRA money in short order (and then have to start actually paying some of my medical expenses out of pocket) so I can start doing allergy shots for 4-5 years, or c) spend a buttload of money on a new air purifier, new vacuum cleaner, dust mite casings, etc. AND start cleaning regularly and changing the sheets every couple of weeks. That's like, 4-6 times more often than I do now. And it's a lot more laundry. And we're talking way, way, way more cleaning than I do now. With a mask. And trying to convince the cats that after 11 years they can no longer sleep next to me in bed. And keeping the windows closed most of the months of the year that it's finally warm enough to have them open.
So, essentially, the "allergen avoidance" route means adopting a new lifestyle completely antithetical to my current mode of existence. I'm not thrilled about that prospect.
On the other hand, I'm not thrilled about being reliant on pharmaceuticals for the rest of my life in order to function.
And while I generally like the idea of using drugs to improve the functioning of my own immune system by using the shots, I'm not necessarily thrilled about the expense (and time for all those appointments) of doing this for 5 years, especially since it doesn't guarantee I'll be "cured" for the rest of my life.
In all this, I'm remembering that my dentist told me I must have an incredible immune system to have gone 11 years without any dental care and still have strong, healthy teeth. Hmmmm.
And speaking of teeth, I was waiting to figure out where the allergy issue was going so I could move on to making decisions about getting my now-partially-erupted wisdom tooth removed and getting new glasses, since it's been about 3-4 years since I got my eyes checked and got these glasses. Oh, yeah, and Gytha needs to go to the vet sooner or later about her bald spot. I'm glad I didn't go ahead and place my Bluestone Perennials order last night.
~sigh~
~SIGH~
And I still haven't bought a sun light for my seasonal depression issues. Which I was seriously regretting a week or so ago.
~sigh~
Most of this has to do with money, and how I don't have enough to just do everything. I've got this much money that I need to stretch out to tttttttttt hhhhhhhhhhhhh iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ssssssssssssss much. Granted (hahahaha, if only) we should get a decent tax refund that can go to paying off things like a new vacuum cleaner. But that was already supposed to pay down my credit cards and replace my depleted savings account.
~SIGH~
If only writing about things actually made them better...
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