hanging on by a thread

same-kady

I’m showing up here because I blocked out the time to show up. I’m pretty much phoning it in, you could say. I’m so thankful that not that many people read anymore because this post would be ripe for some get-off-the-internet jabs. I don’t mean to share to fish for compliments or even seek charity because the reality of my situation is I put myself here. I think that’s why I’m so down. I thought I would be thriving by now but I’m not. I’m sleeping all the time which is freaking me out.

I even drove over to Payam’s today to have him check my blood sugar because I was convinced I had diabetes. Turns out I don’t. Yes, Payam and I are still friends and I’m so thankful for that. He is beyond long-suffering with me. Thankfully the sleepiness seems to ebb and flow and usually, after a really drag-ass day, I can pick myself up again and get back to work. Maybe this is just normal.

moody

Since nobody is policing what I share anymore I can record that I have a complex cyst on my left ovary. Maybe that is messing up my hormones and causing this latest grief. I am getting it checked out and so far everything seems okay. Has anyone ever mentioned that an endo biopsy is not pleasant?!!!  Oh my goodness, I felt like the doctor was prying me open with a screwdriver.  It was just as terrible as I worried it would be.  I haven’t heard the results yet but so far I have no real reason to worry too much.

I really got myself worked up over the endo biopsy. I was super afraid to go in for it and then when it happened and it was just as terrible as I imagined I started crying and I couldn’t stop. The poor doctor felt so bad for me. She kept handing me tissues and asking me if I needed ibuprofen. I didn’t. It was more the process and the anticipation that really got me and not so much the pain.

I think I had been stressed out over it for so long that when it finally came the dam broke. Then because of a comedy of errors I had to rush across town to a chiropractor appointment that I had immediately after. When I got there I could barely pull myself together. Thankfully the chiropractor is a crunchy-born-again-homeschooling-woo-woo healer so she was no stranger to weepy women seeking help. I put myself on her table and my head in the paper hole and the tears wouldn’t stop leaking out.

Then because I was trying so hard to stop crying I didn’t concentrate on my vice-grip back muscles that usually hold my back from cracking and KER-RACK-RACK-RACK CRACK CRACK CRACK! All my vertebrae in my middle back just ripped back into where they should have been. I have been trying to crack the middle of my back for years!! Who knew some crying would loosen me up just enough to make it finally happen. It felt amazing. By now my crying was pretty obvious and I couldn’t hide it anymore. The paper on my face was soaked. The chiropractor said that often our body gets rid of bad things by crying and that’s why I finally got properly aligned. I’m not sure about the accurate scientificness of this theory but I’ll take it. Whatever works.

my-golfcourse

So my back is great. It’s been not great for so long. I bought a new purple bed for our new apartment hoping it was Payam’s bed that was causing all my pain for the last few years but then it seemed the new bed even made it worse.  I was worried I had made a bad purchase and here I am still stuck paying payments on it but maybe the bed is fine and I just had myself out of whack from moving and carrying heavy furniture and maybe… just maybe some stress has had me hunched over like my Aunt Lois who had the elephant man disease.

When did this blog turn into an old lady blog who complains about her ailments? I know the answer to that one. When my cute little kid grew up and I can’t talk about her daily antics anymore! I miss little Bug so much. Don’t get me wrong. I love Bug as a teen but I really miss being a young mom. Last night I dreamt that I was playing with a popular Instagram influencer’s toddler and we were having so much fun. I was making houses out of cardboard boxes and cutting mail slots for pretend letters to go through. We were having puppet shows and I was letting her ride on my back…then I woke up and I was really sad that I don’t know this little girl in real life.

Many people have commented to me that they feel like they know me and Bug from reading this blog for so many years and I guess I know how you feel. I see that Instagrammer’s kid every day and I feel like she’s part of my life so I dream about her but if I ever met her in real life she’d probably run from me.  I need to cut back on my phone scrolling. What else is new? When I was talking to a psychiatrist the other day she told me that one in three people are on antidepressants. On one hand that’s awesome that antidepressants are helping so many people but on the other, what is wrong with this world that a third of us are depressed?! That is really depressing.

jack-car-randa-season

So let’s look at some purple trees instead. I love that it is jacaranda season. It’s really odd to be depressed in spring. The days are beautiful. I guess I should be thankful I’m not trudging through this in winter.

mothersday2022

Mother’s Day was yesterday. Bug spent the day with me which was really sweet. She’s not usually one to think outside her own bubble so I was especially touched that she was making a day about me. That day started at noon since she slept in but I didn’t hold it against her. It’s not like I had any plans and if anyone knows anything it’s that teenagers sleep all day long. So we had breakfast for lunch and Bug gave me a special mug that she made in ceramics. Then we painted and that made me really happy. I painted a self-portrait and one of Bug. They are both pretty bad.  I’m not sharing the one of me but you can see the one of Bug where it looks like she had a Micheal Jackson nose. I’ll fix it if I ever get around to it. I think it’s okay to not be great at painting. I want to paint another portrait like it again next year and see how much better I get. I know if I paint regularly I will.

I might be depressed but at least I’m still making plans!

Speaking of plans. I’m turning 50 in July and for the life of me, I can’t put a party together. One day I’m bursting with ideas and then the next day I scrap them all. So if you get an invite from me on the week of you’ll know what happened.

Turning Around an Existential Crisis

daves-50th-in-vegas

A few weekends ago Payam and I headed out to Las Vegas (our 2nd trip in November) for our friend Dave’s 50th birthday party. There are going to be a lot of 50th birthday parties in our friend group this year since both Payam and I are turning fifty. It’s our year, 1972 people.

I’ve always been optimistic about turning fifty. I figured I’d rock it like I’ve rocked all the other years but lately, I’ve been starting to doubt myself. I hate it.

While we did have a great time celebrating I felt sort of out of sorts the whole trip. It’s weird when you are having a good time externally but inside your head, you are listening to a running commentary of negativity. This is nothing unusual for me I just feel like documenting it because I’ve been feeling a little freer on this blog lately. (One of the perks of falling off the mainstream radar.)

I want to say it started at the ax-throwing place we went to (Ax-throwing!) but really it was already brewing before we even got there.

axe-throwing-in-vegas

Ax-throwing was a riot. Drunk people throwing axes. That seems like a disaster waiting to happen but it turned out to be really fun and mostly safe if you follow all of the safety precautions, which I did of course. My anxiety loves to follow rules. I was terrible at ax-throwing like I am at every sport. Dave, Erika, and Payam racked up fifty or more hits each and several bullseyes while I managed to make the ax to the target a big whopping three times. I was pathetic. Everyone made fun of me and said I threw an ax like I was giving it to the target. If a herd of zombies was chasing me it was like I was saying, “Here Zombies, have an ax from your good buddy!” But it was all in good fun and when I did actually make contact with the wooden target my friends cheered me on like nobody’s business. We can’t all be athletes. At least some of us can draw. Heh.

Of course, the entire time I was berating myself internally with a barrage of insults about my weight and old-lady skin and how hard it was to bend down every time to pick up the ax I’d thrown. It’s pretty amazing that I could keep a smile on my face and fake it while a full-on war was being fought inside me. We took photos which I hated of course because I could not see past the width of my shoulders and the stockiness of my legs but I smiled and pretended everything was fine.

Please know that this is not me fishing for compliments. I’m just being pathetic. I know better than most how to fix this sort of thing.  Pain is a signal that things are not right. It’s time to fix some things.

when-in-rome-or-vegas

But back to our Vegas story: We stayed in a nice (and super clean) timeshare that belonged to my friend, Erika’s parents that just happened to be right next to, get this: A rodeo!  Of course, Payam and I went exploring. How could we not?  We watched some bulls bucking around and being lassoed by real cowboys and we found a western wear gift expo going on in a large ballroom. We are not country-western-wear types but we got a real kick out of walking around the booths looking at all the crazy things. Belt buckles the size of your head, bedazzled camouflaged dresses, stiff wrangler jeans, hats of all shapes and sizes. It was a hoot but we stood out like liberals at Trump pep rally.

Payam put on a cowboy hat as a joke but it suited him so well I made him buy it. Then I found this sort of edgy, rock and roll black suede fringe jacket and before we knew it we were a hundred dollars lighter. When in Rome, right? When else am I going to come across a suede black fringe rock and roll jacket?! No pictures yet, it got so smokey from the casino I immediately put it in the dry-cleaning bag and haven’t touched it since. But soon I’ll break it out. It’s going to be one of those fun crazy fashion moments I can just tell.

existential-crisis-in-vegas

Meanwhile back at the ranch, I mean timeshare, my existential crisis hung on. I tried taking photos of myself to see if I really looked as bad as I thought I did. This is a fun game I play with myself all the time. I call it: Narcism.  Except instead of thinking I’m so great and I don’t care what everyone else thinks of me, I think I’m not great at all and I care about EVERYTHING anyone thinks about me. It’s a vicious circle of doom and gloom.

I should have been basking in the dry sunshine of Vegas and loving my little mini-vacation from kids and life but no, I was wallowing in self-pity. Hard eye roll.

tough-mother-trucker

Even when we got back from Vegas I was still walking around in a cloud of negativity. Everything is ugly and I hate everything! But you know what happens when I get like this? I realize I need to make some changes.

you-are-what-you-eat

When we got back home I decided to stop drinking for the 47th time and cut my calories by a third. I hate to share this because every time I start on a path like this, I always fall back to my old ways and eat my words. But it’s still good to try, right? Is it good to share? I don’t know. Let’s just hope not that many people read this post.  I’m just going to say: No promises. No lofty goals. Just day by day.

On day two of my new regimen, Bug and I had pizza and I bought a cheesecake bun from this new little cafe I found. I love a new mom-and-pop cafe. I wanted Bug to try it for me and I thought I’d live through her vicariously but then I had a bite. Half the cheesecake later…I was still “trying it” you know, just to make sure.

cody-got-skunked-part-2a

I’m going to slide another story in here before I finish up my existential crisis thread. Cody still stinks from the skunk. It’s terrible. There’s an odor that wafts up from him when he stands next to you and it breaks my heart because he is so cute and loveable but it’s impossible to pet him with this wretched smell that lingers and lingers and lingers! You have to wash your hands constantly.

I researched local dog baths and found one that lets you bathe your dog for fourteen bucks! What a deal! Paying a groomer to de-skunk your dog costs $200. So off to the bark bath we went.

cody-got-skunked-part-2-bark-bath

I brought tomato soup in hopes that I could wash him there without him shaking tomato soup all over my bathtub but they wouldn’t let me. So I washed him in de-skunk shampoo, regular dog shampoo, conditioner, and water about a thousand times. He was such a good dog, being so patient. Sadly, when we got home I think he seemed even worse. It’s almost like I washed off the deodorizing shampoo the original groomer had put on him to mask the smell and now the skunk smell was even stronger. The really nice guy at the dog bath place told me there’s really not much you can do, it just takes time. Probably about a month.   Tomato soup is starting to look better and better.  rasta-taco-for-lunch

After I took Cody home I took Bug and her boyfriend out to lunch at Rasta Taco (my new favorite client) which is in Laguna Beach right next to the beach.

november-beach-day

I let the kids hit the beach while I journaled. I’ve been journaling obsessively lately and it’s helping with my mid-life crisis. I’ve not mentioned it here but I am working out regularly with a personal trainer two times a week now. It’s a huge luxury and my budget is barely fitting it but I’m starting to think it’s worth it for my mental health alone. Between that, not drinking, and trying to keep a caloric deficit going, I have hope that I will rock fifty by the time it gets here. I will. No matter what I look like I’m going to get the inside of my brain right because that is the best first step.

I know I’ll get there eventually. Thanks for having patience with me while I work this out.