Six Word Saturday

lovely weather lately - out enjoying it

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Want to play along? All that's necessary to participate is to describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing. I love seeing what everyone does with their entries.

Each week (probably on Sunday or Monday), I use random.org to select a bunch of entries to visit.  Or I visit everyone. Or even numbered entries. Or odd numbered entries. Or multiples of three. Depends on what's going on that week.  In addition, please visit the person ahead of you on the list (or visit everyone if you like!). That way everyone receives at least one visit!

If you play along in your blog, please add a link to the Mr. Linky. I appreciate a link back (shiny code below if you like!). Otherwise, you're welcome to leave your six words in this post as a comment.

Please be sure to link either to your main page or (preferably) directly to the 6WS post. Links to blogs that do not contain a 6WS entry will be removed (sorry, just the button in the sidebar doesn't count as participating).

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How To Tell Cate Is Out Of Sorts

Today, a top ten list (because I promised you and more importantly I promised myself that I would blog this week so here goes).

Top Ten Reasons To Tell That Cate Is Out Of Sorts

1. One tweet is uber-happy, the next involves punching people or things in the face.
2. She doesn't return emails.
3. She doesn't comment on your blog.
4. She doesn't make the rounds for 6ws.
5. She doesn't post on her own blog.
6. She has a lot of headaches.
7. She takes a lot of naps.
8. She resurrects the Walrussian. Because she can. 
9. She doesn't care if this list makes it to 10.

I'm working on it. Resolution is coming. I think. I hope. But mostly, I'm ok. Even if I'm not dealing well with life right now, I'm dealing with it. I'm getting out of bed each morning and finding joy here and there, even if my actions and words are all over the place. Yeah, "stable" isn't a word I would apply to myself at the moment. 

Thanks for standing by me. And special thanks to awesome friends who encourage me, listen to me, distract me, and call me out on my negative actions (or, rather lack of action).

P.S. Confused? Try here. And here.

Relax

I debated not posting this. Because it seems kinda whiny. But know what? Welcome to my life.

Why is it so hard to relax?

It's been a rough week. For those of you not receiving my daily sleep updates on twitter, the brief summary is that I'm still not sleeping. It's been a year now since I started having problems sleeping through the night. My mental state continues to suffer and one day last week I actually fell asleep at my desk (not unusual at this point) and fell out of my chair (hoping that remains unusual). As in, kaboom, Cate on the floor.

I was excited a month ago to reinstate my gym membership, only to be thwarted by new levels of exhaustion and the time change. When I leave the office at 5pm, it's dark and it's all I can do drag myself home for the evening. This is furthering my lack of energy, low self-esteem and weight gain.

But that's not really so much what this post is about. This post is about the inability to take care of ourselves and just relax. Or is it just me? Surely it can't be just me.

I slept until about 8am, lounged in bed until around 9am or so, and had breakfast. Having slept well and fed my belly, I felt energized! I decided I should clean the house today! Maybe go to the gym later! Let's make a list of all the things I'm going to do!

And then I remembered I should be resting. Sleeping. So I'm trying but I feel like I should take advantage of that little bit of energy while I'm home to clean the house! Organize the closet! Return the guest room to a livable state! Oooh, also, I can write some blog posts! Work on the project for Joe! And this and that and ten other things!

What I need more than anything is rest and sleep. Why can't I let myself have that? Why can't I let things go?

I kinda feel like this post sounds like it's sponsored by Walrussians. I'm not looking for pats on the back or "poor Cates". I don't mean it to be all wah. I'm okay. I will be okay. I just need to remind myself that it's fine to completely chill for a day. Maybe even the whole weekend as well.

Drunk with exhaustion

Walrussian Alert!!! Medical Content Ahead! I tried to post about something else but this is what's on my mind so this is what you get. Also, I've tweeted about it and it's hard to explain in 140 characters.

What's the difference between being calm and being too tired to care?

I think I'm happily settling back into zombie mode. For a few days, I woke up a bit and it seemed nice. But then I cared too much about things and it wore me out. Giving a damn is exhausting!

Yesterday, I saw the doctor for this fantastic video strobe which was totally not what I thought it was going to be. I was all prepared to flip out about numbing my nose and throat so they could run a tube up a nostril and see my throat. Instead, there was no numbing and they poked the hell out of the back of my throat with a laser gun while holding my tongue and making me sing "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!". Seriously. They even recorded video. Horrifying. I almost gagged and barfed on the guy three times or so. I wonder if anyone has actually puked on him? That would suck.

Anyways, he told me afterwards that it's textbook acid reflux. Yay, right? Except I'm on a gazillion meds for reflux so it should be under control.

This is when he busts out our "plan". He's going to put me back on the reflux meds I was on before the insurance had a fit (he can authorize it or something). Then we're going to do a fun 24 hour "esophageal pH test". I'm not even going into the details of that fun; you can read about it here if you feel so inclined. It will measure the amount of acid in my system over a 24 hour period to see how effectively the meds are/aren't working, etc.

He then tells me that if we can't control it through medication and lifestyle, I may need surgery. Again, not going into the specifics because I might just awake my inner give a damn and spaz but here's a linky. Suffice to say it's pretty major and irreversible so that would be second opinion time.

The major concern is that a strong correlation has been drawn between people with long-term uncontrolled acid reflux and esophageal cancer. Which is a very bad diagnosis says Dr. GagMe. I'm going to just trust him on that because Google has already sufficiently creeped me out.

And what I really care about? When do I get to sleep? You can stick tubes anywhere you want. I'll take whatever pills you prescribe. Just when do I get my 8-hour snoozefest?

Anyways, that's the latest chapter in the Life of Cate: She Who Does Not Sleep. My body really hates me. I think there's not a single normal-functioning part in there. And if I take the time to do an inventory and find one? I'm sure it will conk out tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'm going to go back into my sleep-deprivation state that allows me not to care. Where's my "Do Not Disturb... or I'll punch you in the face" sign?

What if...

Walrussian invasion!!! I really tried to write something else but these are the thoughts consuming me. They won't be denied, they have to bet let out.

Hey, at least it's not a vacation or cat post!

What if...

...I lived closer to my family? Would it force resolution of these issues instead of trying to smooth over them to make our infrequent visits pleasant?

...I had more self-confidence? And what would it take? A fulfilling career doing something I can't even define? A hot body? Feeling as if my husband worships the ground I walk on?

...my mother hadn't raised me to live in constant fear of anything new or different?

...I truly possessed focus, self-control, and dedication? Instead of routine, fear, and inability to change?

...my dad had a spine and had stood up for me or had acknowledged the truth? Or had stood up for himself and sought happiness instead of peace-keeping?

...J was still alive? And my mother hadn't lied?

...I didn't feel so uncertain about situations that have been plaguing me for years? If I knew my own mind instead of being confused between what I want and what I've talked myself into settling for instead?

...I had started a family with Joe ten years ago when we were first married and I knew it was what I wanted?

...my hobbies and dreams and self were still intact instead of being talked down or otherwise made unrecognizable?

What are your what-ifs? Over the years, I've mostly learned how to let them go. You know, the whole "Serenity Prayer" thing.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

But sometimes the what-ifs creep up and take over. Right now, I'm drowning in them.

There's so much left to tell. Some day, maybe...

P.S. Come back tomorrow for Six Word Saturday with a return-to-normal Mr. Linky and a less contemplative Cate. Promise!

Walrussians: It's what's for dinner

I have been abducted by Vladmir the Walrussian. It happened sometime yesterday though I can't quite pinpoint when. Consider yourself warned and feel free to skip this one - I'm totally puking out this post.

Yesterday, I woke up in a fabulous mood. Beautiful weather so I opened the sunroof and blasted some U2 on the drive to work. Once I arrived, there was an email from the drama llama boss saying he'd be out for the day. I grabbed a coffee, eager to make progress on some work projects so I could finish the afternoon with blogging.

Instead, I found myself bombarded with work issues. Ok, not a big fan but it happens. It brought me down a bit (mostly due to the people involved - I'd like my job a lot more if the people-factor could be removed) but I soldiered on.

Next, an email from my mother. "Did the check I sent you for vacation bounce? Did you get charged fees?". Short story is that she didn't have the money in her account to cover it so they charged her $30 to cover from her line of credit. We were paid fine, no fees. Knowing my mother, this is her way of making sure we know they're short on cash. Maybe because they're covering my sister's share? More on HER later.

Accident on the highway equals drive home from hell.

We then attended a sporting event. Not only did the score not bring me joy but this woman behind me kept screaming in my ear. It was all I could do to not turn around and punch her right in the face. You would've been proud (or horribly disappointed), folks.

Upon arriving home, I found out Twitter has decided to be stupid, hiding @replies to people you don't follow. This was already an option! But now, it's not an option. Twitter has drastically decreased the social networking capabilities of their site. It's worse than the Facebook redesign debacle and the natives are staging quite the uprising.

And then, the final straw. Which I'm not ready to talk about yet because I'm still processing it. It was an email from a family member and it's going to make things quite interesting for family vacation. Mostly from an emotional standpoint for me. Yes, still trying to figure out my feelings on this one.

Thankfully, half a sleeping pill let both my body and my mind rest. Today shall be better. Right? Yeah... Or I'll punch it in the face.

Booty shots

Before we get to today's post, I wanted to thank everyone who traveled around on the blog swap yesterday. Sorry I didn't reply like I usually would - read on to find out why.

Today's post brought to you by the letters W-A-H and sponsored by walrussians. (Blognut and I had a long discussion about the plural of "walrus" and we're pretty sure "walrussians" is it.)

Sometimes the masses (ok, all 12 of you) are entertained by my migraine mumbles both here on the blog and on Twitter. It's true - I mess up words and I get silly. Even more so once I start on the pain meds. But in the end, there is pain. Pain I'd rather not experience. Pain I'd rather try to make light of because if I focus on it, I become insanely frustrated which just makes it worse.

This post is about the other side of my migraines. The pain. I spent several hours on Wednesday at the doctor's office. This particular migraine started Monday morning and it waxed and waned for several days. My new rule is that after two days, it's not going to vanish through any means I have available. When I woke up in worse pain than when I went to bed last night, I knew it was time to call for help.

Lucky for me, Joe was able to rearrange his schedule to work from home and drive me to the doctor. Long story short, the nurse evaluated me (my regular doc wasn't in) and ordered me a shot of Toradol (anti-inflammatory and anti-pain) followed by a shot of Imitrex (a migraine-specific med). They're both "fun" drugs in that they burn like crazy when injected. The Toradol went in the booty and she gave me the Imitrex in the upper arm near the shoulder. The first shot brought some relief, the second brought almost instant relief.

On the positive side, these took care of the migraine. I've had times when I've also had to receive anti-nausea injections and even morphine. Yeah, wimpy in the scheme of things.

Three hours later, I was back home to rest. She also gave me prescriptions for my allergies because those are certainly aggravating my migraine. Too much sinus action is keeping the pressure in my head in a bad way.

So not a warm fuzzy post today. But I sort of felt it was necessary to address the "other side" of my migraines. Otherwise, they might look like fun. Trust me, they're not. Not at all.