living with the greatest evil

Saint Augustine once said, The greatest evil is physical pain, and all I can say right now is preach on good saint!

I like to imagine that I can handle pain. I mean I have birthed babies with no pain meds on board. I road a bike from Spokane to Coeur d’Alene and back the next day with my right arm in a cast. I’ve run my fair share of half marathons. Come on, surely I am capable to handle a little pain and survive.

But time, spondylosis, and osteoarthritis is telling me otherwise. Forget an exhilarating 5K run to start the day. The same goes for a slow walk around the park just around the corner from The Big Top. Reach for that salad bowl on the top shelf or bend down to tie my shoes guarantees the constant throbbing to amp up to knives stabbing the spinal column, hips and knees. The 20-30 commute to work just might kill you were it not for the salvation of the heated seat in that fun-sized Dory-car. The pain of swollen fingers,, hands, wrists and elbow promises that sleep will be interrupted numerous times through the night…or day for this night shift nurse. Yes, I tell my ortho doctor, I do take THAT much Naprosyn daily – my stomach is fine, for now. Late at night, as I attempt to console a baby born addicted to opiates because of mother’s addiction, I find myself having a better understanding sometimes what that mother must have been living with and trying to erase with prescription and illicit medicating. I’m still Team Baby, but as my back, neck, shoulder and elbow scream in protest while I hold their baby in comfort from their own withdrawal pain, I can imagine wanting to do just about anything to make this pain stop.

I’m working on it with the help of my ortho and pain specialist doctors; but this chronic suffering did not come about overnight so I imagine that relief or adjusting to a new normal that I can live with, work with and play with will take time too. I tell myself that. I tell myself that a lot – every day, every week.

Today though, today was not a good day because that chronic pain is peaking with no relief. I might have ugly cried at least three times – driving home from work this morning, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep this morning and waking up just an hour or so after falling asleep to that same pain. Days like today, and last night at work can be much too much sometimes.

But hurray for a new ball cap representing the fact that I am just a Steeltown girl and that, in spite of the pain, I woke up like this.

You just do it. You force yourself to get up. You force yourself to put one foot before the other, and…you refuse to let it get to you. You fight. You cry. You curse. Then you go about your business of living. That’s how I’ve done it. There’s no other way. ~ Elizabeth Taylor

therapy

Sometimes, some days the weight of all that presses down on my heart, my head, my soul is just too much.

Like today. For so many reasons, today was one of those days. The sadness overwhelmed, pressed down and enveloped my very core.

And so I forced myself to run. I didn’t want to; but run I knew that I must do today…especially today. Today I ran because I knew that for at least the 30 minutes and 3.2 miles that I was running all that is right now always weighing down my heart, mind and soul was behind me. It wasn’t gone. Today I feel like none of it will ever be gone in my lifetime. But at least it was behind me for a blessed half hour.

And then reality.

What a bitch reality is.

It wasn’t all bad. No. One problem that in the last month went from bad to worse to clusterfuckedupness when Bill’s car met it’s demise in the Santa Cruz Mountains last month and then when he broke his motorcycle this weekend was solved…with monthly car payments to now worry about. Then again a family with a Bay Area commute to one job and a commute to Stockton with another job and a commute to Modesto for another job and school starting next week there was no way that we could survive with just one reliable vehicle that remains.

I should be thankful. I am. But today was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad mental health day and so I let the can-we-really-afford-this-car-payment-when-I-get-cut-from-work-pretty-much-every-scheduled-shift overwhelm me because, I got called off from work. Of course!

Bill handed me the keys telling me to take it for a drive. So I did.

I drove and drove and drove all over the place, past orchards and vineyards and parched fields and into the sunset with the windows rolled down and Iggy Azalea loudly promising that in spite of her 99 problems you won’t be one on the radio.

Therapy, much needed therapy for a pretty emotionally fucked up day.

Tomorrow’s another day. It might be a better day. It might not be. But it will be tomorrow.

One day, one hour, one minute at a time.

It’s therapy.

 

because doing your taxes (or your kids’) isn’t nearly hard enough

Arrrggghhh!!!!

Tax filing season! It’s got to be done, whether I want to or not. FAFSAs have been filed and well, mom and dad’s tax returns are needed to complete that little bit of fun. So receipts and papers are gathered and tax prep program purchased and ready to download…

Four and a half hours later….

still trying to download…

then thirty more minutes pass and there is this.

WTF???!!!

I seriously wanted to cry.

I did cry just a little.

Who cares about FAFSAs and taxes I know that we will owe and helping the kids file their EZ taxes.

Who the heck cares about any of that?!

This screen makes me want to cry.

My picture files….

My ancient, slower than my granny paced running time laptop with my precious picture files and my writing and, and, and, and…

:::SOB!!!:::

I shut down the computer, wait a minute or two, or more then restart it and…

pray….

Please, oh please, please, please, please….

It takes forever to turn on and start because this laptop is old and decrepit. Hazel wasn’t  even born yet when this laptop was fired up for the first time.

Finally!

It’s up and running.

I spent the rest of the evening before dinner backing up over 7,000 picture files from 2013 and the first two months of 2014 onto my external hard drive because…priorities, people!

Then after dinner I try one more time to download the tax prep program and…

…twenty minutes later it is downloaded, up and running and ready to prepare the taxes here under the Big Top. And I am a quivering, Jello-like mass of feelings and stress and tears.

So much for a tax prep program that wants me to be comfortable when filing my taxes.

The taxes will have to wait for another day.

just not worth the effort

If you value something, treasure it, love it, want it, you work hard for it to care for it, treasure it, love it. It takes a helluva lot of effort, but then again it doesn’t feel like work at all.

Then there comes the days when you just throw your hands up and scream “F#ck it all! Why even bother?” and pull on the most comfy t-shirt and yoga pants and comfort yourself with the most comforting of comfort food and the NY ER marathon because some days just are not worth the effort. Not at all.

Funny how this got more attention than I have received in days…weeks…months.

It’s the yoga pants I’m sure.

the Mondayest of Mondays

OMG, anyone else feeling like today is more Monday than the average Monday?

Looking at my son this morning as I dropped him off at school I felt like today is the Mondayest of Mondays.

Mountains of laundry, vacuuming and dusting await along with a pile of other projects that must be started or finished. There just isn’t enough coffee on a Monday like today.