Monthly Archives: September 2015

God Help Me Keep Breathing!

Just when I’ve got my stress maintained at a manageable level, Whoosh!!! Here comes the storm! Life is not always in alignment with what I think it should be, and I do struggle with that, though weakly. This move to Michigan was not my first choice – or even my second or third – but it was by far my best choice, and I’ve come to be very excited about it, eager to be living back with many great friends, to have a place of my own (more or less) and to maybe even have a job I’ve wanted for two years now, ever since my long summer there in 2013. Moving all my stuff cross-country is intimidating, but my dear (and slightly crazy) friend had decided to drive himself, a cohort, a van and a trailer all the way from Michigan to California, load my stuff up with his Ninja packing skills, and get me and mine all safely back across the country in a rambling, “let’s stop at Yellowstone while we’re at it!” kind of way. There were certain aspects of that plan that made my stomach clench in panic, but I was doing a pretty good job of breathing and letting my friend worry about the details.

But as of yesterday, that whole plan has been scotched. Continue reading

Gettin’ ‘er done

The good news is I keep putting one foot in front of the other. I had great fun last week, going with a friend into San Francisco to the Mosaic Steps, which I’ve been wanting to do for years. Not only did we climb them (160 gorgeous steps up) but we then continued up even more steps (172) to the top of the hill, from which we could see all over San Francisco in every direction. And 20150909_123826then, of course, we came back down those 332 steps! Whew! After that we went to the beach. Normally San Francisco is overcast, but for the whole of the eleven years I’ve lived in California, I’ve very rarely seen it cloudy. And as usual, we had an amazingly sunny day, and in the eighties. So in addition to having a fantastic time with my wonder-friend, I also got a bit of a sunburn. That isn’t
a complaint; I didn’t mind at all. Continue reading

Getting on, Letting go

The past week has been challenging. In the first place, my gut has hurt at least a little every day, some days it’s hurt a lot. Though that was my normal state for many years, the two months without gut pain was so wonderful, and I have no idea what’s triggered it again. Sure, I splurged on all counts while celebrating my birthday, but tiny splurges mostly, and that was over a week ago. Why am I still hurting? I’ve been horribly itchy – somewhere (I ONLY mention this because I’m doing my best to keep an honest account of all that’s going on for me on this healing journey) – and that’s the last thing that should be happening! My diet is mostly squeaky clean these days; what’s going on inside my body?? Add to that the incredible stress of sorting and packing all my earthly goods (always a huge stress trigger for me; until the last two days I was doing a great job of not panicking), and yes, I am definitely struggling. It hasn’t helped that I’ve been reading through those old journals. Yesterday’s selection took me through the two years up to and through my divorce and into the following year. What a roller coaster ride! Like all but one of the others, it, too, went straight into the trash as soon as I finished. Unfortunately it was so compelling that I stayed up way too late two nights in a row reading. Bad, bad idea. It’s been a dickens of a week to NOT be drinking!

On the plus side: I’m getting the packing done, shelf by drawer, box by bag. Four big boxes of books went to the Half-Price Bookstore (netting a whopping $58), several bags have made the trip to a thrift store. There is now space in the garage for me to begin piling boxes as I pack them for the trip. I have breakfast with a friend today, and Wednesday I’m going into the city with one of my dearly beloveds to check out the Mosaic Stairs, a treat I’ve been wanting to do for several years now. Beth and Paul have been doing their own sorting and packing and I’ve reaped a lot of benefit from that as well. And, even though reading through the journals hasn’t been all easy or fun, I read one and then as soon as I finish it I tear it from the binding, pages at a time back to front, and leave it all in the trash. It is, in fact, a wonderful cleansing process for me.

So I’ll keep plugging, keep babying my body, and one way or another, I’ll get ‘er done.

What Happens in Bed . . . .

unnamedFor the last seven-plus years I’ve slept quite comfortably in a twin-sized bed, covered by (at minimum) a flannel sheet and a light quilt. I admit that one of the things I’m looking forward to in Michigan is a reintroduction to the joys of queen-sized sleeping, but this sturdy twin has served me well. However, in the weeks since I started the supplement protocol to restore health and vitality to my depleted adrenal glands, I’ve been experiencing a unique phenomenon. I’m not sure what to call it. It is evident that the way I sleep now is somehow different but, as the sleeper, I haven’t been privy to observation. And my bear Dooley, who has been spending much more time than usual on the floor at night, never complains, never explains. All I know is that I now somehow remove the sheet from the bed without disturbing the quilt. One morning I awoke to discover that a thin strip of sheet remained clinging to the head of the bed and a thin strip remained clinging to the foot of the bed, but the entire middle of the sheet was draped uselessly along the side of the bed, falling in graceful folds down to the floor. And this morning when I woke, the entire sheet was bunched up at the head of the bed, stuck with it’s flannel magnetism not beside the pillow, but to the side of the mattress, once again puddling onto the floor. Thankfully, most mornings the sheet has just pulled annoying out from the wall-side and is creeping across the middle of the bed, but there are nights when it is definitely an overachiever. Meanwhile, my steadfast quilt stays dutifully straight and tucked in, carrying in loyal solitude the burden of keeping an easily chilled sleeper covered and warm.

When I wake up I never remember performing any gymnastics, magic tricks or illusions. But my rogue sheet tells a different tale.

All Good Things

20150829_195019Last week Beth and I both had birthdays, and Saturday we had a big party to celebrate them, and to commemorate my upcoming move to Michigan. Seemed like a good time was had by all, and I allowed myself to break most of my current protocol guidelines: I had a little bit of cheese, gluten (in soy sauce), wine, sugar (in a homemade ginger drink) and chocolate, and I stayed up late. Am I paying for it all two days later? Yes. Is it awful? Nope, not that bad. Am I going to make a habit of it? Nope. Yesterday I had the tiniest bit of intestinal cramping, and this evening it’s worse. Also, my outlook has been much more bleak the last few days (although I admit I was already mighty crabby for the two or three days before the party). I am not going back down that road, though I notice that, having taken a little break from the rigorous guidelines, it’s harder sticking to them now. Good information, but, you know, bummer.

I had already decided that the whole being in bed trying to sleep by 10pm was causing too much stress. I wasn’t sleeping well and I was kind of wigging out about it. So, for now, I’ll be more lax, aiming to be in bed by 10, but probably reading, with the goal of outing the lights by 11. Immediately I started having much better nights. Tomorrow is the last day of the current supplement protocol; Wednesday I drop some supplements, decrease some others, and add two new ones. It is definitely a step in the right direction.

I’m also reading through old journals, from 1998 through 2003. I’m doing a lot of skimming, but even so I’m covering a lot of old pain, and that is not fun. However I’m reading some things that I’m glad to be reminded of, and seeing events and old musings from a very different viewpoint, and I think that’s useful. All but one of the journals have gone directly into the trash as soon as I finished reading them (13 so far), and I have torn out maybe a couple dozen pages with poems or story ideas that I want to save.

So far I’m handling the stress of the upcoming move pretty well. Most days I actually get some work done towards the move; today I sorted through three drawers, filling a bag with stuff to take to a thrift store. That may not sound like much, but that’s work that really triggers me, so I’m pleased. If I continue to do a little bit every day, then I’ll be good and ready in four weeks when it’s time to pack  up the trailer and hit the road.

This all may not sound very exciting, but what is exciting is that I laugh a lot more now. I’m getting more done. I’m not exhausted all the time. My gut almost never hurts. Oh, and for those who’ve asked, my pooping has regulated nicely. All good things.