I met a counselor yesterday. She was nice, and I think I'll continue to see her. Out of all the people I spoke to, she seems the most down to earth. She only has her Masters so she's not a doctor, but she's got several certifications and such, and she's a good listener, so whatever. I really just need someone to talk to about all this crap in my life, not a pill or a medical diagnosis.
I used to be a good writer. Lately my head is too full of other things, and I can't seem to get the words out of my brain in the proper format. It doesn't help that I've been fighting migraines too. The weather changing is doing a number on me.
I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to say. I used to think of things, read articles, contemplate issues other than work situations, come up with colorful commentary and quirky responses and weird thoughts. Now I just feel tired and drained. Hopefully with the help of my counselor and some stress relieving techniques, my brain will be back on its feet soon.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
the search
I've been down a lot lately. I go through cycles like this. Clinical depression runs in my family (just ask my dad) and while I've never been diagnosed as having such, I do go through bouts of feeling low for no real reason.
Work has been stressing me out. I can't hardly think about it without getting anxious. We're not making payroll anymore-- my boss has had his parents send us cash the last couple months. The 15th will be here shortly, and the account is negative right now. I'm not worried so much about me. I'm resilient, I'll find another job, and I'll be fine. But I'm worried about these people that I've hired that put their lives in our hands. My heart is fluttering just thinking about it. We're not to that point yet. If we can make this final push, make it through the next month or so, we have a new product with a ready buyer that will take us well out of the red. We just have to get there.
I feel like I've been saying that for months. If we can just make it to May. If we can just make it through the summer. Now, if we can just make it to Thanksgiving. Will we ever just be ok?
I've also been thinking a lot about myself and the way my brain works. I don't remember things the way I should, like childhood memories. I don't remember my grandmother. It's like somehow all the good memories I should have of her and her personality and the way she loved me are all wiped clean and all I'm left with is this shell of a woman who hardly knows my name. Where did the memories go?? It makes me feel crazy. I feel like I'm living someone else's life half the time, like I'm going to wake up and be someone else. I read somewhere that that's a condition of being an INFJ (my Myers-Briggs personality type) under stress.
Obviously I don't deal with stress very well. So I want to see a counselor. My husband was surprisingly supportive of it despite being a very logical left-brained no-nonsense sort of fellow. He acknowledged that he's not the best person to talk to about emotional matters (no kidding) and that he's been worried about me too because I'm tired a lot lately.
I googled psychologists in my area and didn't come up with much. I have a couple coworkers who see people, and my plan was to avoid them because I didn't want a conflict of interest or a coworker to learn that I was seeing someone too, but with so few in town, I had to call them.
I've got calls into 5 different docs right now, waiting for a call-back to get some questions answered. I did speak to one, but she was so sugary-sweet, I felt like she'd coddle and mommy me, plus her southern accent was so strong "yes" had about three syllables. I make fun of my husband being no-nonsense, but I am too, and I don't want to be babied. I'm an adult, tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll fix it, but don't sweet talk me. So she was a no-go.
Picking a therapist is hard. Pick the wrong one and you could end up getting a lecture about how "God sure would help" or watching a doctor doodle and twiddle their thumbs while you're spilling your guts and getting nowhere. I also need one that will see me either before or after work.
I wish I was just normal. What is normal though, really?
Work has been stressing me out. I can't hardly think about it without getting anxious. We're not making payroll anymore-- my boss has had his parents send us cash the last couple months. The 15th will be here shortly, and the account is negative right now. I'm not worried so much about me. I'm resilient, I'll find another job, and I'll be fine. But I'm worried about these people that I've hired that put their lives in our hands. My heart is fluttering just thinking about it. We're not to that point yet. If we can make this final push, make it through the next month or so, we have a new product with a ready buyer that will take us well out of the red. We just have to get there.
I feel like I've been saying that for months. If we can just make it to May. If we can just make it through the summer. Now, if we can just make it to Thanksgiving. Will we ever just be ok?
I've also been thinking a lot about myself and the way my brain works. I don't remember things the way I should, like childhood memories. I don't remember my grandmother. It's like somehow all the good memories I should have of her and her personality and the way she loved me are all wiped clean and all I'm left with is this shell of a woman who hardly knows my name. Where did the memories go?? It makes me feel crazy. I feel like I'm living someone else's life half the time, like I'm going to wake up and be someone else. I read somewhere that that's a condition of being an INFJ (my Myers-Briggs personality type) under stress.
Obviously I don't deal with stress very well. So I want to see a counselor. My husband was surprisingly supportive of it despite being a very logical left-brained no-nonsense sort of fellow. He acknowledged that he's not the best person to talk to about emotional matters (no kidding) and that he's been worried about me too because I'm tired a lot lately.
I googled psychologists in my area and didn't come up with much. I have a couple coworkers who see people, and my plan was to avoid them because I didn't want a conflict of interest or a coworker to learn that I was seeing someone too, but with so few in town, I had to call them.
I've got calls into 5 different docs right now, waiting for a call-back to get some questions answered. I did speak to one, but she was so sugary-sweet, I felt like she'd coddle and mommy me, plus her southern accent was so strong "yes" had about three syllables. I make fun of my husband being no-nonsense, but I am too, and I don't want to be babied. I'm an adult, tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll fix it, but don't sweet talk me. So she was a no-go.
Picking a therapist is hard. Pick the wrong one and you could end up getting a lecture about how "God sure would help" or watching a doctor doodle and twiddle their thumbs while you're spilling your guts and getting nowhere. I also need one that will see me either before or after work.
I wish I was just normal. What is normal though, really?
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
travel
I feel a strange compulsion to post today, but I have nothing to say.
I started to leave it at that, but things are starting to come to me. Random thoughts, as usual. We were supposed to go to New Orleans to visit friends next month-- next month is November, as a reminder, in case you, like me, are surprised at how incredibly quickly this year has passed-- but hotels were just too expensive that weekend, and for no reason that I could find. We have other friends who regularly go to Saints games and always get the Sheraton on Canal for $65 a night on Priceline, but we couldn't get anything for less than $120 a night. When you throw in New Orleans's outrageous parking fees (sometimes as much as $30 a day) it became ridiculous.
So we're postponing. I would say "until the spring" only we have decided to take our Italian vacation in April. Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi coast, 14 days in glorious springtime in Italy. I've already seriously begun to plan, and we applied for a new credit card last night.
We applied for the Chase Sapphire card because of the great things we've heard and read about their live "concierge" customer service. A lost or stolen card in Italy requires me to be on the phone with a real American person directly, not redirected to India or sitting through a recording and hold music. It's only available to folks with credit scores higher than 750. Because the only credit card I ever had was one that belonged to my dad but was in my name throughout high school and college, I have superb credit. People take their credit scores for granted, but mine has allowed me to buy several things interest free (couch, washing machine and dryer, etc.) as well as get a really low interest rate on both my mortgage and my car (used, of course. Suckers buy new). Because we're tight-fisted and, frankly, anal about our finances, my credit has remained high through the years though I haven't actually used it to my advantage in a while. So hopefully they come back with a decent APR-- we'll never carry a balance, but I like to be wanted and appreciated.
Back to work. Oh, lunch first.
I started to leave it at that, but things are starting to come to me. Random thoughts, as usual. We were supposed to go to New Orleans to visit friends next month-- next month is November, as a reminder, in case you, like me, are surprised at how incredibly quickly this year has passed-- but hotels were just too expensive that weekend, and for no reason that I could find. We have other friends who regularly go to Saints games and always get the Sheraton on Canal for $65 a night on Priceline, but we couldn't get anything for less than $120 a night. When you throw in New Orleans's outrageous parking fees (sometimes as much as $30 a day) it became ridiculous.
So we're postponing. I would say "until the spring" only we have decided to take our Italian vacation in April. Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi coast, 14 days in glorious springtime in Italy. I've already seriously begun to plan, and we applied for a new credit card last night.
We applied for the Chase Sapphire card because of the great things we've heard and read about their live "concierge" customer service. A lost or stolen card in Italy requires me to be on the phone with a real American person directly, not redirected to India or sitting through a recording and hold music. It's only available to folks with credit scores higher than 750. Because the only credit card I ever had was one that belonged to my dad but was in my name throughout high school and college, I have superb credit. People take their credit scores for granted, but mine has allowed me to buy several things interest free (couch, washing machine and dryer, etc.) as well as get a really low interest rate on both my mortgage and my car (used, of course. Suckers buy new). Because we're tight-fisted and, frankly, anal about our finances, my credit has remained high through the years though I haven't actually used it to my advantage in a while. So hopefully they come back with a decent APR-- we'll never carry a balance, but I like to be wanted and appreciated.
Back to work. Oh, lunch first.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
kryptonite
Seeing a dead dog on the side of the road brings me to my knees, zaps everything I have gathered inside me to face the day, leaves me parched and aching like a dry socket after a wisdom tooth removal.
What's your kryptonite?
What's your kryptonite?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
let down
I've been looking forward to it since last night. Husband was supposed to do it for me, but he was distracted and promised to take care of it first thing this morning. I figured that probably wouldn't happen-- he's too busy in the mornings, after sleeping that extra ten minutes in, to even take care of his own needs, much less mine. So I did it myself-- retrieved my instruments from their hidey-holes, laid out a surface on which to perform, and went to work. Satisfied, I cleaned up, packaged my results, and went off to work.
I made myself wait until 10:30. It was sitting there, staring at me, condensation and sweet nectar collecting on the skin, glinting at me through the clear plastic box. Finally, 10:30, and I popped the top. The flesh, like skin too long in the summer sun, had faded from bright white to spotty tan, but I knew that the sweet juiciness would not be affected. Picking out a large sliver and holding it delicately between my thumb and forefinger, my teeth sliced down through the pulp, pulling and tearing when the outer skin was reached. Munching away, at first happy and finally sated, I frowned. Not sweet, not juicy, not tasty at all. Like bland, tasteless, brown mush. Just about the worst apple ever.
I hope that doesn't say something for the fate of my day.
I made myself wait until 10:30. It was sitting there, staring at me, condensation and sweet nectar collecting on the skin, glinting at me through the clear plastic box. Finally, 10:30, and I popped the top. The flesh, like skin too long in the summer sun, had faded from bright white to spotty tan, but I knew that the sweet juiciness would not be affected. Picking out a large sliver and holding it delicately between my thumb and forefinger, my teeth sliced down through the pulp, pulling and tearing when the outer skin was reached. Munching away, at first happy and finally sated, I frowned. Not sweet, not juicy, not tasty at all. Like bland, tasteless, brown mush. Just about the worst apple ever.
I hope that doesn't say something for the fate of my day.
Friday, August 20, 2010
on my mind
My brain won't stop today. Here's what's racing through:
1) How old do you have to be to not have acne anymore? Who created and perpetrated the lie that it's only for teenagers? Surely 28 is old enough to have "adult" skin? I have to go to a baby shower tomorrow looking like I'm not even old enough to have friends who can have kids.
2) I need another vacation, but I just got back from one. Here's a picture I took. I want to live in this picture. It's now my desktop background, so it's too bad I keep having work piled on top of it... excel is so ugly in comparison.
3) I want Chinese food for dinner, but I want a buffet, but I don't want to go sit down with people to eat it. Do they do to-go buffets?
4) I feel like a terrible person when I get annoyed that my parents are coming up, once again, this weekend to stay. They stay in our guest room, fyi. But they raised me, the least I can do is put them up a few nights a month, right? All I want to do is lay on the couch and wallow (see #1), not entertain or even be looked at.
5) Most of the annoyance this time comes from the fact that they want me to help them, at 7 a.m., with a garage sale at their storage unit here. Ugh. I'm a good daughter, I'm a good daughter...
6) Some days I feel trapped, but not my by husband or my animals, but mostly by the "conventions" of life like houses and jobs. I want to roam around, barefoot and wild, like buying an RV and driving driving driving. But I like showers and luxuries and home too. So it doesn't last long.
7) There are times I feel like I'm walking a dream, that I'll wake up and get back to my normal life, which has to be much more fatastical than this, where I'm a different person, one not trapped by my insecurities or failings or ineptitudes. Because why would creatures such as humans, who are given the ability to do such wonderful and amazing things like think and write and make music be destined to live such boring and sad existances? Why do only 1 in 10 of us actually do something with ourselves with the short time we're given? Why do the rest of us wallow in anonymity and medocrity and self-pity and patheticness?
8) I need a coke.
9) Boone is a great dog with a great personality, and I love him. But I will never love him the way I love Bub. Why is that? Maybe it just takes time. Scares me even more about having children. As my husband would say, "reason #1,490,583 not to have kids."
10) I think if I were to ever sing karoke, which would probably only happen in the world from #7, if even there, I would sing Always on my Mind. I particulaly like Willie Nelson's version because his voice sounds like a dad singing to a daughter and for some reason that gets me. Why this song? Because it's a beautiful song, but also because there are no huge notes to fail miserably when you try to hit and no long periods of time with no singing where everyone is watching you expecting you to dance or do something to fill the void between words flashing up on the screen for you to sing. And people stop and listen to it whenever it comes on. I don't think I've ever met anyone who could listen to this song without feeling something, without stopping and thinking about someone you weren't good to, someone you took for granted, someone you miss. Try it.
1) How old do you have to be to not have acne anymore? Who created and perpetrated the lie that it's only for teenagers? Surely 28 is old enough to have "adult" skin? I have to go to a baby shower tomorrow looking like I'm not even old enough to have friends who can have kids.
2) I need another vacation, but I just got back from one. Here's a picture I took. I want to live in this picture. It's now my desktop background, so it's too bad I keep having work piled on top of it... excel is so ugly in comparison.
 |
| the view from the edge of Charleston, SC |
4) I feel like a terrible person when I get annoyed that my parents are coming up, once again, this weekend to stay. They stay in our guest room, fyi. But they raised me, the least I can do is put them up a few nights a month, right? All I want to do is lay on the couch and wallow (see #1), not entertain or even be looked at.
5) Most of the annoyance this time comes from the fact that they want me to help them, at 7 a.m., with a garage sale at their storage unit here. Ugh. I'm a good daughter, I'm a good daughter...
6) Some days I feel trapped, but not my by husband or my animals, but mostly by the "conventions" of life like houses and jobs. I want to roam around, barefoot and wild, like buying an RV and driving driving driving. But I like showers and luxuries and home too. So it doesn't last long.
7) There are times I feel like I'm walking a dream, that I'll wake up and get back to my normal life, which has to be much more fatastical than this, where I'm a different person, one not trapped by my insecurities or failings or ineptitudes. Because why would creatures such as humans, who are given the ability to do such wonderful and amazing things like think and write and make music be destined to live such boring and sad existances? Why do only 1 in 10 of us actually do something with ourselves with the short time we're given? Why do the rest of us wallow in anonymity and medocrity and self-pity and patheticness?
8) I need a coke.
9) Boone is a great dog with a great personality, and I love him. But I will never love him the way I love Bub. Why is that? Maybe it just takes time. Scares me even more about having children. As my husband would say, "reason #1,490,583 not to have kids."
10) I think if I were to ever sing karoke, which would probably only happen in the world from #7, if even there, I would sing Always on my Mind. I particulaly like Willie Nelson's version because his voice sounds like a dad singing to a daughter and for some reason that gets me. Why this song? Because it's a beautiful song, but also because there are no huge notes to fail miserably when you try to hit and no long periods of time with no singing where everyone is watching you expecting you to dance or do something to fill the void between words flashing up on the screen for you to sing. And people stop and listen to it whenever it comes on. I don't think I've ever met anyone who could listen to this song without feeling something, without stopping and thinking about someone you weren't good to, someone you took for granted, someone you miss. Try it.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
dog whisperer I am not
dom·i·nant [dom-uh-nuhnt]
–adjective
1. ruling, governing, or controlling; having or exerting authority or influence: dominant in the chain of command.
2. occupying or being in a commanding or elevated position.
al·pha [al-fuh]
–adjective
a. (esp. of animals) having the highest rank of its sex in a dominance hierarchy: the alpha female.
b. being the most prominent, talented, or aggressive person in a group
Neither of these adjectives describe me at home. Now, at work-- that's a different story. As I've mentioned recently, I am two different people: one, at work, is self-assured, authoritative, and unafraid. The other, at home, is meek, still, and quiet. I could be neither one without the other-- one is my relief from the other.
I will fully recognize that I let Bub run my house too much. He's small and doesn't ask for much, so to let him lead on walks or beg for food or jump on the couch without asking really didn't affect my life that much in any negative way. Throw this big, lumbering, clumsy, teenage puppy into the mix, though, and we've got a problem. And I think he's big now... no telling the mess he'll be able to make when he's full grown if I don't nip this in the bud right now. By the way, we've named him Boone.
I've been researching puppy training. I've always watched the dog whisperer and agree with his reinforcement and calm-assertive techniques. The problem isn't the dog; it's me. I feel myself getting frustrated, pent-up anger boiling inside my chest, yelling instead of calmly and directly giving instructions. I wouldn't yell or get angry at work, so I don't know where that comes from at home. I guess it's because I am the other person at home, the quiet one who expects her world at home to be quiet as well, so when anything disturbs that it upsets me.
But I'm working on it, and we're getting there. It's a learning experience for both of us. I knew better than to get a puppy... but as puppies go, he's smart, well-meaning, quite calm actually, and can entertain himself for the most part. I've begun getting up at 7 a.m. to walk him before work, and I go home at lunch as well. At night we walk again, but anything beyond 15 minutes outside is too much. It's 104 here today. Fetch will come later this month, when the sun decides to stop trying to fry us like eggs.
He walks on a leash perfectly, I'll give him that. He occasionally gets excited and tries to pull, but one Cesar-style quick tug on the leash and he's back in line beside me. He can also sit on command about 90% of the time. The other 10% comes from him being a puppy with an attention span of about 3 seconds. He knows what to do, he's just not always listening.
We're learning down-- that's an easy one. Stay is the big problem. Again, with such a short attention span, to get him to pay attention to the fact that he should remain on his hindquarters for longer than it takes for me to step away is quite a feat. I need him to learn stay, though, because he bolts in and out of doors so quickly I know he's going to take me and Bub down with him eventually-- it's only a matter of time. I make him sit every time he wants something, whether it's food, a toy, to go out, or even a pat on the head. He's working for me. He resists my commands much more often than my husband's; I've decided it has to do with the tone of his voice, so now I boom out in a deep timber when I say SIT. It seems to also help if I over-enunciate the T, with a little spit at the end. Can you tell I'm over-analyzing?
I know what will help me the most will be to see continued progress with him and to gain confidence from that progress. What he needs from me most is for me to be a confident leader, like the people at work have, and not the quiet girl my husband knows best. I have to train myself first.
–adjective
1. ruling, governing, or controlling; having or exerting authority or influence: dominant in the chain of command.
2. occupying or being in a commanding or elevated position.
al·pha [al-fuh]
–adjective
a. (esp. of animals) having the highest rank of its sex in a dominance hierarchy: the alpha female.
b. being the most prominent, talented, or aggressive person in a group
Neither of these adjectives describe me at home. Now, at work-- that's a different story. As I've mentioned recently, I am two different people: one, at work, is self-assured, authoritative, and unafraid. The other, at home, is meek, still, and quiet. I could be neither one without the other-- one is my relief from the other.
I will fully recognize that I let Bub run my house too much. He's small and doesn't ask for much, so to let him lead on walks or beg for food or jump on the couch without asking really didn't affect my life that much in any negative way. Throw this big, lumbering, clumsy, teenage puppy into the mix, though, and we've got a problem. And I think he's big now... no telling the mess he'll be able to make when he's full grown if I don't nip this in the bud right now. By the way, we've named him Boone.
I've been researching puppy training. I've always watched the dog whisperer and agree with his reinforcement and calm-assertive techniques. The problem isn't the dog; it's me. I feel myself getting frustrated, pent-up anger boiling inside my chest, yelling instead of calmly and directly giving instructions. I wouldn't yell or get angry at work, so I don't know where that comes from at home. I guess it's because I am the other person at home, the quiet one who expects her world at home to be quiet as well, so when anything disturbs that it upsets me.
But I'm working on it, and we're getting there. It's a learning experience for both of us. I knew better than to get a puppy... but as puppies go, he's smart, well-meaning, quite calm actually, and can entertain himself for the most part. I've begun getting up at 7 a.m. to walk him before work, and I go home at lunch as well. At night we walk again, but anything beyond 15 minutes outside is too much. It's 104 here today. Fetch will come later this month, when the sun decides to stop trying to fry us like eggs.
He walks on a leash perfectly, I'll give him that. He occasionally gets excited and tries to pull, but one Cesar-style quick tug on the leash and he's back in line beside me. He can also sit on command about 90% of the time. The other 10% comes from him being a puppy with an attention span of about 3 seconds. He knows what to do, he's just not always listening.
We're learning down-- that's an easy one. Stay is the big problem. Again, with such a short attention span, to get him to pay attention to the fact that he should remain on his hindquarters for longer than it takes for me to step away is quite a feat. I need him to learn stay, though, because he bolts in and out of doors so quickly I know he's going to take me and Bub down with him eventually-- it's only a matter of time. I make him sit every time he wants something, whether it's food, a toy, to go out, or even a pat on the head. He's working for me. He resists my commands much more often than my husband's; I've decided it has to do with the tone of his voice, so now I boom out in a deep timber when I say SIT. It seems to also help if I over-enunciate the T, with a little spit at the end. Can you tell I'm over-analyzing?
I know what will help me the most will be to see continued progress with him and to gain confidence from that progress. What he needs from me most is for me to be a confident leader, like the people at work have, and not the quiet girl my husband knows best. I have to train myself first.
 |
| Boone and Bub, on their first day together. Bub has claimed Boone's new bed, and Boone is trying desperately to get Bub to play with him. |
Friday, July 30, 2010
signs that your husband loves you
6) Even though he's not quite sure about the whole thing, he lets you adopt a dog in need, and then comments on how good it does feel to save one and very happily tries to think of a name with you.
Meet the newest member of our clan... yet to be named (Buster? Buddy? Ernie? Petty? Hesus?), a five-month-old lab/pointer mix from the local shelter, found abandoned and starving at a run-down apartment complex, now to be loved and spoiled and cherished his whole life:
7) All these things and so many more tiny things, like reaching out and squeezing my knee while he's driving, or running his hand down my back while we wait on a table at a restaurant, or letting me have the last of the peach cobbler, or sending me flowers even when I told him not to, with a handwritten card so sweet it brought tears to my eyes...
If I could give any advice to anyone on how to find a mate, I would say, "Find your best friend, and marry them!" Living every day with him is a joy, not a job, and I wouldn't trade any of it, not the worsts, not the struggles, not the sicknesses, not any of it.
Meet the newest member of our clan... yet to be named (Buster? Buddy? Ernie? Petty? Hesus?), a five-month-old lab/pointer mix from the local shelter, found abandoned and starving at a run-down apartment complex, now to be loved and spoiled and cherished his whole life:
7) All these things and so many more tiny things, like reaching out and squeezing my knee while he's driving, or running his hand down my back while we wait on a table at a restaurant, or letting me have the last of the peach cobbler, or sending me flowers even when I told him not to, with a handwritten card so sweet it brought tears to my eyes...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
signs that your husband loves you
5) He has to kiss you goodbye three times before he leaves for the day.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
signs that your husband loves you
2) When he uses his earned free Chinese buffet (buy 9, get the 10th free) to take you to lunch.
3) If he can't make reservations at the restaurant you want because it's closed for a private party the night of your anniversary, he makes plans to take you instead to the restaurant where you had your first date, and then makes reservations for Sunday brunch at the restaurant you wanted to go to in the first place. All to make you happy, even though a frozen pizza would be fine, as long as you're with him.
4) When you get up for work on the morning of his day off, he cajoles you to spend an extra five minutes in bed so you can rub his head and talk to him about his plans for the day.
3) If he can't make reservations at the restaurant you want because it's closed for a private party the night of your anniversary, he makes plans to take you instead to the restaurant where you had your first date, and then makes reservations for Sunday brunch at the restaurant you wanted to go to in the first place. All to make you happy, even though a frozen pizza would be fine, as long as you're with him.
4) When you get up for work on the morning of his day off, he cajoles you to spend an extra five minutes in bed so you can rub his head and talk to him about his plans for the day.
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