Stress and Sickness and the Unnerving Cyclical Nature of Life

I have this problem. It's a problem I first noticed when I was nineteen years old, 800 miles away from my mom and facing my first real problem in school. Stress makes me sick.

That year, I ended up with fever hallucinations and blisters down my throat. It was not amusing.

Since then, in utter fear of a recurrence, I have tried to acknowledge the signs. I know when I am stressed out. And I know what's coming. So, when I start to get sniffly or queasy or the headaches get closer together and seem to bear no relation to my caffeine consumption, I try to back down. Reduce the stress, lay down, sleep in, maybe even take the day and spend it in bed.

Nip it in the bud. Head it off at the bend.

Except...

Except, the nature of stress is that it happens when you're busy and run ragged and still have miles to go.

And except, sometimes, there's no end.

I'm not trying to be maudlin. I know that there's an end. Somewhere. At some point, the stress will dissipate. It'll end. Life will resume as originally scheduled.

But, I have no idea when. I can't see the light at the end of this particular tunnel.

It's mostly work stuff, which means that I can only talk about it vaguely and a little. But there's other stuff too. Halloween, finances, winter weather in October. I don't usually turn my furnace on until November, ya'll. Since it's been on since Saturday, does that mean I'm going to run out of propane in February?

I sewed for about a half hour last night before the bobbin ran out. Then, I spent an hour last night threading and re-threading Brynna's sewing machine. I never did figure out the problem or make it work. According to Google, I didn't push the bobbin winder over enough.

An hour. How did I not check that?

I went to bed at 11 and I've probably still got a couple of hours to go on her costume. I haven't started Brynna's. (Although, in my defense, I think hers will be easier. I hope. Please.)

Tonight is Maren's football tournament, so I won't be home until late and tomorrow is the school fall festival. They need their costumes for a church thing on Saturday.

And I'll get it done. I really will. I always do. My mom did this too, when I was little. I specifically remember being safety pinned into one costume as a kid.

It's just so damn much.

So, today, I have the sniffles. My throat hurts a little and my head is pounding despite the two cans of Coke I've downed today. (I usually only have one.) But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. So many damn miles before I sleep.*

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise something cheerier.

*My apologies to Robert Frost. This is one of my favorite poems ever, mostly because I've always found it excruciatingly creepy, but no one else seems to.

Checking In

I wrote a whole, big post today, but I need to sit and marinate in it for a while and make sure I think that publishing it is wise and good. Not that it's bad, but it's different and it's opinionated, so some people will read it as bad.

In the meantime, I don't have much to say. Brynna and I went to Girl Scout camp.

Maren made a touchdown. There is no photographic evidence because I was busy screaming. Her playoffs start this week. I'm guessing that this is shared by almost every sports mom ever, but I want her to do really well and win every game and go all the way through the tournament. I also want her to lose the first game so that I can quit worrying about getting the uniform clean and rushing around after church and keeping up with mouth guards.

I'm going to be making the girls' costumes this year. Start pitying me now, ya'll. Or them. I don't know which is going to be worse. I got all ready to cut everything out last night and realized I don't have any straight pins. Because... I don't really sew. Just every once in a while when I decide I'm invincible. 

I need vibes this afternoon. Or prayers. Or both. I can't tell you what for, yet, but hopefully, I'll stop being so freaking cryptic soon.

I started a Tumblr. Because, you know, I needed more social media concerns.

Okay, I think that's enough. Thanks ya'll.

Happy Late Columbus Day

So, yesterday. Yesterday, I had a surprise root canal. I'm not making this up or exaggerating. I've been in pretty intense pain for about four days and finally got to the dentist to find out that what hurt so bad was actually death. So, all the times I said I hurt like death. I wasn't kidding.

I, however, wasn't dying. Just a nerve. So, there was lots of drilling and that uncomfortable scraping thing and then... Home I go. Or actually, work I go.

By the time I got home last night, around 8:00, I was about two hours past exhausted, achy, and ready to go to bed for a week.

I drove Brynna to the mailbox, which is the ultimate in end of the day laziness. (Look, it was dark and I didn't want to hear the whining.) There, of course, I remembered that it was Columbus Day.

I don't even know why that bothered me so much. So, I didn't get any mail. What was I expecting, anyway? But for some reason, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

So, I started grumbling about Columbus. And how he doesn't deserve a holiday. And all the horrible things he did. And I ended up telling Brynna about all of it. About the murder, cheating, stealing, forced slavery. The only thing I left out was the systematic rape. Because I had enough sense to remember I was talking to a nine year old.

But, yeah. Then, after a half hour of lecturing on the evil of Columbus and how history is written by the winners, I sent her to bed.

Wonder what they'll talk about in Social Studies today.

I should probably call a teacher and apologize.

But my tooth still hurts and I still didn't get enough sleep.

Five Things on Friday - Not So Guilty Pleasure Edition

I'm reclaiming my life. I don't even know what that means, but it occurred to me recently, when I quick shut up and quit singing something in the grocery store. Not because I don't want people in the grocery to think I'm crazy for walking down the aisles singing, but because I don't want them to think that I am so un-hip that I listen to what is basically a kid's group.

I do this all the time. I love things, full fledged and excitedly, and I hide them because I don't think they are cool enough.

It's time to grow up. Like what I like. Embrace who I really am, forget about what everyone else thinks. So, here we go: public announcement.

Five Things I Don't Feel Bad About Liking


1. R5 - I can't help it. They are so catchy and cute and holy crap, I could listen to "Pass Me By" on repeat all day long. I'm even going to forgive them for using "livin' yolo" as a lyric, as if that's a real word. And it's not just about Russ, despite what's going on in #2. It's about the whole sound. It's so happy. Even their sad songs are happy and hopeful. It makes me wanna dance and laugh and throw my hands in the air. I like that, okay? I like feeling like there's something worth smiling about.

2. Austin and Ally - I watch this with Brynna and Maren all the time, and I like it because it's almost never mean, it's cute, Trish is awesome and seriously, adult shows could learn a thing or two about "will they, won't they" from this. They date, they break up. They're in love, they're with other people. He wrote her a love letter, she keeps his flower card. It's crazy. And even though I know, it's Disney, I can't help but stop everything and watch when it's an episode I haven't seen. I even watch when the girls aren't home, shhh. This isn't the only Disney show that I can't seem to turn away from. I also love Good Luck Charlie and Gravity Falls. But nothing is as addictive as Austin and Ally.

3. Seth Rogen - It started with Freaks and Geeks, but you know what? I'm sunk. I've spent the last few weeks watching everything he's ever done (that I can get my hands on for free). And you know, some of it sucks. Although, I loved Green Hornet and I know most people hated that. I hated Paul. But I watched the whole freaking thing. Because *sigh* Seth Rogen. I mean, really, Ian Sommerhalder, Jensen Ackles and Seth Rogen. Will someone please explain my type to me.

4. Pizza rolls, Kool-Ade, Spaghetti-O's and Peanut Butter Spoons - I also like fancy-schmancy food, but there is nothing like a peanut butter spoon and spaghetti-o's for supper. When the kids are away.

5. Candy Crush - I have been on level 125 for three weeks. I still can't quit playing. Also, I refuse to link it to Facebook, because of all the game requests, so I have to do quests. Yep. Still sold. I wish I could quit you.

What about you? Willing to share anything you love that maybe sometimes wish you didn't?

Mental Bandwidth and How I Just Don't Have Enough

You know, I used to be a really difficult person. I was never happy. I was irritable and cranky and I yelled a lot.

Then I got a divorce.

I know how that sounds, but it's true. After the divorce, I felt like a new person. I felt free and happy. I slept well; I laughed; I got along with the world at large. I lowered my volume and raised my intensity and I was happy.

Until this week.

I can't go into a lot of the details, because even I have learned some lessons from Dooce. But it has been a rough week. It started on Friday, actually and it's been going downhill ever since. Every day it feels a little worse, a little thinner, a little more crazy around here. And I am nigh on miserable about it.

I'd say I'm not sleeping, but that wouldn't be true. I didn't sleep for about three days, then I got stung by a yellow jacket. In an attempt to help my hand regain it's normal size, I've been taking Benadryl at night and it's a little like being really drunk, except not fun.

I've been eating crazy. I realized yesterday that I hadn't had a meal since the previous day's lunch. I had however, had about 72 Twizzlers if my trash was any indication.

But worst of all, I have had zero patience. I've been yelly and miserable. Which means my kids have been miserable because you know, when mama ain't happy...

Then, this morning I read this article about how dieting makes you dumber. It's really not about dieting or dumbness, actually. It's about how dieting and poverty and making do with less steals your mental bandwidth.

It makes sense, really. We shouldn't have needed Harvard researchers to tell us that there is only so much room in your thought processes and you are most certainly wasting some of it if you are worried about something.

For me, right now, it's not dieting. It's not even my shaky financial situation. It's my job. It's the stress of staying in my job. It's the feeling like no matter what they say, it may not be here tomorrow. It's the understanding that even if I have a place to hang up my purse and get to work, that work may change. The atmosphere most definitely is changing. And I don't think I like those changes.

Two months ago, I dyed my hair pink. I've wanted to do this forever and ever. I did it, finally, because I could. I wanted to, there was no reason not to and I deserved it. But foremost in my mind was the idea that I had a certain amount of job security. A job that would not be affected by my pink hair. Now, I find myself wondering what this means for my pink hair.

And I'm being metaphorical. The thing with pink hair is that you can always make it black again.

But my whole sense of self lately has had a lot to do with the peace and security I had with a job I liked, a boss I loved, a house that I could fix up, kids that I adore and a life that made me happy. I have already lost one of those items and I am not taking it well.

My virtual memory is running low. I am running out of bandwidth.

What happens next? I don't know. And that is primarily what is making me crazy. Hopefully, I learn to turn off the worry when I walk out the door for the day. Hopefully, everything evens out and the world starts to make sense again.

It's not like I can upgrade my connection.