Friday, September 10, 2010

Vanity

Well, I've decided to stop coloring my hair. I thought about it ... I've been coloring my hair more than half my life now. I think that's long enough. Besides, it's getting really, really expensive. There's about half an inch already grown out. See?

So, I'm on my way. And yea, I'm gonna be a skunk for Halloween.

And maybe Thanksgiving.

So what?

I've never had a problem telling people my age. And I always say I'm proud to be whatever age I'm at (right now that's 54). So I think it's time to put my money where my mouth is ... or, put my hair where my ... no wait, that's gross. Umm, put my ... no, keep my money in my bank account! Yea, that's it!

Okay, so I'm gonna go knit now.

Ta!

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Wow! I didn't realize it had been so long! Well, where to start ...

We've been in the new house about three weeks now. It certainly is an experiment in communal living. Some of the chores have logically fallen into place. For example, Michael and Marc mow the grass; Melinda and Katie do the grocery shopping. Melinda does just about all of the cooking, which is good because she is a damn good cook. The rest of us help clean up, do laundry, and we are still organizing and unpacking. I think that activity will probably be going on for a while.

What am I doing? I think what I'm doing is learning to live with people again. Not that I'm anti-social, I just enjoy being by myself. I enjoy quiet and solitude. Melinda and I have had our clashes, and I'm having to learn, once again, to pick my battles. Some things are just not worth it.

I do love-love-love having all the kiddos around me. I mean, what could be better than hearing little footsteps running up to greet you each day when you get home from work? It's awesome!

I'm starting to get my room the way I want it, surrounding myself with my books and little mementos. My Buddha candle holder makes a nice addition and adds to the ambience during meditation. I probably won't paint for a while; eventually we're going to be replacing the horsehair plaster with sheetrock. But I will hang some things on the walls.

The new job is going well. I really like it and I love the fact that I'm no longer a boss. The stress and time spent commuting was definitely not worth the extra money I was making. I can feel the difference in my body as well. Less pain is a good thing!

I've reinstituted my Reiki self-treatment and meditation practice. Every night before I go to sleep I do a self-treatment, and I try to meditate at least a couple of times a week.

The last thing I need to do is start my walking program. As soon as I get the okay from the doctor, I'll be walking every day! I can't wait.

I guess that's about it for now.

Peace to you all.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Pain ...

Chronic physical pain ... if you've never had it, it's hard to imagine. I can't remember what it feels like to not be in pain, really. Except for the required bumps and bruises, I remember a childhood of not being aware of pain. I remember the emotional pain of being a teenager ... the first broken heart or the first time I was stood up. I remember being a young mother and wanting to take away my children's pain.

As a child I didn't know that my Dad was in chronic pain. Sometime around 1945 he was working as a garbage collector and, as he was jumping up on the running board of the garbage truck, he slipped and fell under it. The truck kept going, and crushed his legs. My grandmother was told that he'd probably never walk again, and medicine being what it was at the time, they did the best they could. After about a year, he did walk, but never again without pain.

My dad was not a complainer. Even when he was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer in 2006, I never once heard him say "Why me?" "It is what it is" he would say. That about sums it up.

I remember one day asking him about his knees ... "Daddy, do your knees hurt today?" "Honey they hurt every day. It's just worse some days than others." I think that's when I first became aware of chronic pain, the first time I knew that it existed. Before that moment, pain was something that came and went.

Except for a very few close friends, I don't like telling people about my pain. There are a myriad of reactions ... there's pity, "Oh you poor thing! My friend Gladys has .... " Then there's "But you don't look sick," or "You're probably just coming down with the flu," or, one of my personal favorites, "If you pray you'll feel better." Sometimes they don't say anything, but their facial expression says it all. "Yeah, right! That's just an excuse."

People can't understand that pain just happens for apparently no reason. But it does. There are days I can't hold a coffee cup. Vaccuumming the house is an olympic event. I was never known for using a lot of sick time, but now I only have 2 sick days left ... since August! I don't know if there's a correlation, but it seems that I catch every cold bug within a hundred yards of me.

Massage helps, but it's expensive and not covered by insurance. Accupuncture does too, but again is cost prohibitive.

Why am I even writing this? Who knows. I guess it's therapeutic. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, I'm not looking for pity. I guess I just want people to know that it's real. It's not something I'm making up to get out of going to that wedding on Saturday, or an excuse for why the floor isn't washed or the windows don't sparkle. I just hurt. It's that simple. It is what it is.