Friday Feels ~ 5/12/23

Howdy, I think I figured out why my consecutive days in a row count got off track. Somehow my Monday haiku went into local changes & when I re-posted two days later, it erased the original date, showing a lapse. My three day streak is Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday, making today #4.

Boo Hiss

It is #4 plus 1751 or something like that. My notifications do not go back far enough to see where I was on Sunday 5/7/23 but if I knew, I could manually track this sH!t because to me it matters. No it doesn’t! Or shouldn’t matter because ya know, so many other things are more important. But as Charles tells me often, “don’t do that to yourself Jill. What matters to you MATTERS!” I think I sometimes believe this & I’m making head way in my therapy.

On other matters, my trip to the motherland is fast approaching. Ugh, why didn’t I pick July or August?!? Such a significance with 6/5, that I had to be there on that day. I’ve made some decisions that can be unmade again but I’m going in to protect my fragile heart. I’m doing this for me which brings up once again, my current favorite quote.

Love is never wasted, for its value does not rest on reciprocity,

C.S. Lewis

I’m mailing records to my found family which might duplicate what I shared with just one sister all with no expectation for response. I had myself convinced that another non-response would end me but I’m tougher than that. Snail mail slows the pace & I will never know if the non-response is simply, he didn’t get the post or he got it & threw it away before opening, or he got it & read it but doesn’t care, or he cares but cannot respond for other reasons. So many possibilities that I can rationalize away any hurt feelings. It’s not personal, or at least that is what I will tell myself. But damn it is, cuts to my core. Which is why I continue on with therapy to get to acceptance.

I’ll end with my dream from last night. First backstory, since I booked the trip, I’ve had reoccurring dreams (3 so far) that I meet & their dogs growl at me & they say “well see, we knew she was bad, dogs can always tell”. In my awake life I believe that with my whole heart. Dogs are awesome creatures. Last night I dreamt we met & the dog was wagging his tail like crazy, runs up to me like Buddy & Spot do, licking my face. I woke up as I was petting this dog I will never meet. I felt light & happy & that feeling persists.

As always, more to come.

Friday Free For All ~ 3/10/23

More health related rambling. Sacri-fucking-bleu. Or Sacribleu for short. LOL. Everything old is new again. I posted in a FB support group back in 2018 about a med I had started taking that worked for my chronic pain but how I played Google MD and stopped taking it for fear of dementia. Time blurs & I really thought it was more recent than 2018 but I also thought I stopped for fear of a heart attack. All I know for sure is I quit taking a med because of something that I read. I re-read the comments & the fine folks of that FB support group were VERY helpful.

Fast forward to March 8, 2023. My current doctor ordered tests & sent me to specialists, genuinely seemed to be trying to help me out. I went in for my 6 month check up only to learn her last day at the clinic is 4/14/23. She is starting her own practice which is great for her. I asked about following her since I need to make sure I can get my other not for pain meds. She said since she wants to take insurance, the set up takes 3-4 months longer. But yes, I can follow her when she is open again.

As I gave her the download about the specialists, there were two, I told her I still hurt. I mentioned the drug above (not naming the name here because shocker among shocker, I am not a doctor). She said something about T waves & watching for signs but that it should be ok to try again. Of course I misremembered & said nothing about dementia. Anyway, I have the RX in my hot little hand. I will have a six week follow up with one of the nurse practitioners since by then she will be gone from the clinic & not quite open at the new place. Makes me want to delay trying the new med until I can be seen by her again for sure. I’d also ask if this med will cause me to lose my mental faculties. Or I could just play Google MD again. Certifiable! Somebody stop me!

Not sure why I overthink this stuff but I do & I’m sure I will be without a doctor very soon. This makes me want to find a new doctor & set the appointment for September since it will likely take that long to get in anywhere else. Or do I roll the dice that my current doctor will be up & running in September? And what happens if I run out of my RX before then? Go to the doc in a box?

Maybe I’m making excuses to not start the new med. I’ll continue in pain because pain is what I deserve. Ugh! See what I mean. Ridiculous!

Follow me for more woe is me tips. I’d love to go back to bed. Spend the day there wallowing. Just one day of a pity party before I pick myself up, dust myself off, & start all over again.

As always more to come.

The Reboot – Most Unfortunate Event 3.0 ~ 10/30/22

Today is the 16th anniversary of a very unfortunate event. On October 30, 2006, when our home was invaded by a random marauder, I had no place to put all my emotions. On the 10th anniversary, I posted this short story length post, @4000 words letting loose all my angst into the cosmos. I didn’t do anything last year on #15. I’m weird about certain things. Sometimes I think milestones matter 5, 10, 15, 20 … then I think everyday is a holiday or should be! Sort of like the sentiment to use the good towels. Don’t wait for tomorrow because tomorrow isn’t promised.

I tell ya what, we were shaken-up which in hindsight we learned we needed desperately. Awakened from sleep walking through life doing what we thought was expected. Not really living, simply existing. For a while afterwards, we were on our best behavior. As time went by, the memory fades & complacency snuck in. As part of my evolution to a better mental well being, I’m re-writing the story. Not changing the meaning but refining the prose.

Monday, October 30, 2006 was a day like any other. Our family was doing their thing, work for me & B, school for the kids. Around 2 pm, I came out of a unit meeting to voicemails from hell. With ever increasing urgency, the final message was “Mom just come home”. And I did, on autopilot. Willing my mind not to think. My car gliding across the city, safely but with alacrity. I rounded the corner home & crept down the S shaped gravel drive to several sheriff cars. In the distance, I see PoPo & Pony. All that mattered to me in that moment was that both of them were ok. The rest of the stuff was just stuff.

B joined us a short time later, he had no forewarning but went into protector mode immediately. Assessing the scene, we see the smashed kitchen window and back door all boarded up. Oil dripping off the porch. I’m told there is blood spatter throughout & gun shots into my bathroom cabinet & bedroom ceiling. We weren’t allowed inside & had to call crime scene cleanup, randomly finding a company from the yellow pages.

They would take away several loads of medical waste. The nonporous surfaces were cleaned with chemicals used on surgical suites. I won’t go into details of the perpetrator & his posse. He was unknown to us before & after. I won’t moan about the remodel/repair/replace except to say we were displaced for just under two months. We made sure to host Christmas Day celebration that year, my daddy’s last.

Why this terrible thing happened doesn’t matter to me anymore. That’s proof of my growth & healing. Letting go of what one can’t control. There is nothing more freeing.

Said in southern twang, alrighty, lemme let ya go is used to end awkward conversations. But alrighty, lemme let ya go also insinuates the talk is over … like for good, a brush off. And that my friends would be a priceless ending. If only I could do the same with other traumatic events in my life. If only my life wasn’t full of other traumatic events. Thank goodness for this blog, my free therapy.

As always, more to come.

#1linerWeds. 9/21/22

Ooohhh, I like Linda’s one liner today. Let’s all go slay some dragons!! Look HERE to check out the rest of today’s offerings. My borrowed two cents worth even less than 1/2 a penny follows:

The Opposite of Love is Not Hate, It Is Indifference

Elie Wiesel

Last week I went back to a lighthearted one liner after several weeks of trying to lift myself up using quotes from The Boy, the mole, the fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy. Well the levity didn’t last. Not going to whine now. My break is almost over. I have to get back to crack-a-lackin.

Special thanks to the unnamed blogger who commented that quote back to me on one of my prior sad sack posts. Just what I needed, right when I needed to see it. No matter how often B tells me, “they don’t hate you Jill, they don’t even know you. If they took the time to know you, they would love you just like we do”, that lesson refuses to stick.

From another view, then maybe the opposite of hate is difference. As in making a difference, looking out for others. Being kind & giving a little help along the way.

As always, more to come.

I’ve Been Found Out ~ 9/7/22

I’ve been caught red handed. But not 💯 percent sure. And here I thought I was so stealth. Under my alternate Twitter account, I get to be me. Not that I’m not genuine here because I wear my heart on my sleeve & gush my very being. But there, where no one knows me, I’m not afraid to share thoughts that might not otherwise make the light of day. And this is with a cohort of people who have something so deeply in common with me, that they get it. The club no one else wants to be in.

I know I’m overthinking and what would’ve had to be done to find me isn’t easy. I’m not the sun or worth the time so the family tells me they think I’m still anonymous. So much is starting to make sense though & I label myself the bad actor.

I’m going to keep pressing on. Hope there is truth to it’s not over until it’s over. As I re-read everything there is much pain in my writing. Brutal, honest, and at times overreacting. Maybe that could perhaps bring sympathy or empathy. As long as I’m not pitied, I’ll take what I get.

As always more to come.

Remembering the Dash ~ 9/1/22

Theresa Irmina Andrisek McBee Jasek 9/1/32 – 1/25/98. Today would have been her 90th birthday. Happy birthday to the only momma I ever knew. My feature image is the tattoo she’d likely be upset by …. or not. I’d like to think she would have made an exception somehow knowing my sweet baby girl drew the heart (and has a tattoo of her own). Times change & maybe her strict interpretation of the catechism would have changed too.

I’m not quite ready to full on release the hounds but I couldn’t let this milestone go by without a mention. Over the coming days, I may or may not expand upon my story. I’ve been teasing about doing this for months. I’m pacing myself because I don’t want this to turn into a bash the dead person narrative. She was flawed but then again everyone is flawed; all of us are imperfectly human. I live in a glass house, not going to throw any stones. And I want to stress things weren’t all bad, in fact, there was usually much more good. Revisionist history or not, my life has been & continues to be extraordinary. I don’t need a wellness check. I promise.

This has to be my favorite quote from the 1948 film The Naked City. “There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.” I feel like I have 8 million stories all by myself. A tangled bowl of spaghetti which is very hard to follow. But then that wouldn’t be any different from my typical posts here. WordPress is definitely the place to tell my tale. People here have always been very supportive.

It’s blurry but it’s us!

Get Real Series: Not to be a Brat but … 5/23/22

***** trigger ⚠️ warning ⛔️ *****

May is mental health awareness month. Accordingly my company is posting one message a day on its Intranet. I admire that they are trying to do something. Truly I do. And not to be a brat but…

In today’s story of gentlemen wrote of his daughter mental health diagnosis. I will not elaborate and/or minimize her struggles. My initial thought was we need more of this, people willing to speak up. As I started to reply my comments twisted and took a different theme. A not so nice one. A bit of ire underneath what would’ve been well wishes. Not for the gentleman and his daughter but for the system. I made it about ME. And God help me I hate that about myself. So I canceled my comment before it went large.

This is what I almost wrote… Thank you <insert name> for being vulnerable to share your family’s story. I’m glad you found help for your daughter. For every one person that speaks up, hundreds more are suffering in silence. The stigma/fear/shame are real. The social services are lacking. We are fortunate to have FMLA and a job that allows us to concentrate on what’s most important. Many do not.

I could’ve gone on and on and on with my diatribe. I could wallow about our experience with Lulu who at the tender age of 16 suffered with suicidal ideation. How she used to cut herself. How she binge ate her way to oblivion to get through the stress of college. Who is now skinny as a rail having mastered her fate. Who still struggles daily with self doubt and worse yet in those struggles, shows a fierce determination and strength beyond her years.

I could go on and on about the broken system. Elaborate with intimate detail what we went through to find help. To be turned away. To be further harmed. Hell, we went through fresh hell. But I haven’t the energy. And I’m not sure it’s productive. I firmly believe one should come with a solution not a complaint. In other words, whining about a broken system doesn’t fix said system. With that I’m FIN. For now. Until the next dust up.

If you take away anything from this rant, know you aren’t alone even when it feels like it. We are legion. Not just in May but year round ❤️‍🩹

As always more to come.

Friday Feature ~ 5/13/22

Time is doing it’s slippery wiggle again. Yay! I’m still working from home. My in-laws are still on death’s 💀 door. Sorry to be blunt but it’s true. Yet maybe we’re all on death’s 💀 door. We’re all just a second from pow 💥.

My former coworker’s mom and her aunt were killed in a car wreck going to a funeral. They woke up that morning like usual and went to grieve their family member never to return. Neither was in poor health. Completely unexpected. Such a tragedy.

You think 🤔 this knowledge would snap 🫰 me into shape. Make me realize how precious life is and oh it is! I haven’t forgotten that. I’m just out of sorts.

Thank goodness I have therapy today. Getting more tools ⚒️ in my emotional 🥹 health toolbox 🧰. With May being mental health month, having the discussion is apropos.

Even our chief told us yesterday that he was going to visit his mom for the first time in years. She’s out of state in assisted living with mental health issues. Yep. He said that. Right up there on the big stage being broadcast to the masses. End the stigma. It’s about time.

Alrighty. Lemme let ya go 🙃. As always more to come.

Howdy Y’all!! You’re In For A Treat

… well now that I grabbed your attention, turn back fast or you’ll be sorely disappointed. The treat is for me getting some ferocious thoughts out of my head. This post will likely make no sense. There could be a snippet or two of clarity in the fog but basically this is me like a cotton headed ninny muggin. Truth be told the movie Elf annoys the ever loving crap out of me but then I did cry at the end. Sap that I am.

Okay, so here’s the deal. I am not my mother. Nope, she is she and I am me. I do not have to repeat her path. Genetics might tell me otherwise but genetics are also a wildcard. Example, one has a 1 in 4 chance to inherit whatever trait. Predisposition is not a guarantee. Only 25% likely, or 10% or 80%. Wildcard you see! I need to remember that! I’ve been in the insurance game my whole life. We deal in probabilities and statistics. What is the likelihood of X occurring and all that jazz.

The most comforting response came from Twitter where despite what one may think is not all that bad when you pick what you follow. I am out there anonymous baring my soul. A kind stranger wrote in reply to my angst: In your specific case, I would say that your mother’s experiences are separated from yours by time and experience. They aren’t a given. Was all it took one stranger to change my mind?

Well no. He corroborates what I know to be true. Years of patterns and statistics. Could this mean I escaped? Maybe? But what about my Lulu? I have subtly hinted at her issues, which are all resolved in this moment, yet always ready to rear their ugly heads again one day. Samesie for her right? Not a given. We can fight, fight, fight against biology. You rat bastard!!!!! Even if the effort is futile.

Segway to Charge of the Light Brigade. “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,” I love that poem! Tennyson speaks to me. Yep, the queen comma drama has made her appearance with us today.

Okay, enough steam was let loose. I’m better. For now. Might pop off again later. Feels good folks to finally let the dam break and the chips fall where they may. RIP momma, you did the best you could.

As always, more to come.

Why Not Me? ~ 5/2/21

When people say “why not me”? They usually mean why can’t I? Win a Pink Cadillac? Why not me? Well because I don’t sell Mary Kay and didn’t make the quota.

Slight detour. Hey grammar peeps, does the quotation mark go before the question mark or after? Inquiring minds need to know but being in a self imposed ban from Google, I’m not looking. Hello, hello, hello – is there any editors out there? Just nod if you can hear me. HaHa!

Okay back to my ramble, reflection, musing …

Why not me? Seriously. I’m asking. Why am I spared from the dreaded C? Why instead does cousin J have stage 4 lung cancer and cousin Marie another lymph node in her neck that could be cancer and why did my coworker L have to die before her time? Why did PoPo have to break his leg and remain in the hospital? Why not me? Who the hell decides?

You can keep your fancy shit to yourself. I will never ask why not me when I see others’ good fortune. But when it comes to the bad stuff, that’s a different story. Why not me? I deserve the bad stuff don’t I? Despite things appearing to be utterly random. Karma needs to come kick my ass. Asking why not me becomes very, very easy.

As I sit here in limbo awaiting my fate, I am overwhelmed. Even the jokes quit working. So, first things first. “It’s nothing until it’s something” Say it with me! Except that mantra has worn thin. Google did me no favors yesterday and I spun into a deep abyss.

Today I did my second grocery run, the quick one for B’s mom. As we passed by we saw every emergency vehicle known to man in the driveway of our neighbor’s around the corner. An elderly lady who lives alone. There was the Acadia ambulance, the fire department rig, the BCSO truck, and finally China Grove police. Plus about three or four hastily parked cars in the fray. Family members we assumed. I made the sign of the cross twice and silently asked why not me?

Then we had the church picnic. Excellent turn out. The “to-go” line ran smooth as silk. We ate with B’s mom and PoPo called from the hospital during the meal. Asked B to take care of a few things for him. Come Monday he is moving to a different facility.

Back at home, I was brooding. Feeling very sorry for myself. I told Lulu Belle I needed to walk. She tagged along. Despite our Saturday marathons, I kind of quit walking like I should. We lapped around a few times. Spied in on the garden. Looking good even if we only get squash. Dang squirrels nabbed a tomato plant already. After that, I went in to get the dogs’ food.

After feeding the pups, instead of going in, I went to my swing. My early Mother’s Day present 20 years in the making. Sitting there in peace, I called our Employee Assistance Program (EAP). And wouldn’t ya know it, 24/7 someone to talk to literally saved me the agony of further why not me?

I’m still in constant physical pain but mentally a weight was lifted up, up and away. Instead of sending me the list of choices, they will do the legwork to find someone for me to talk to regularly. No great shock that I need therapy. No more tough enough to power through with a grin and bear it.

Reaffirmed I’m a plotter who will make three different plans for the three possible outcomes of Friday’s procedure. I’m also using the positive mindset espoused by EAP and our healthy points team. Turns out my repeating It’s nothing until it is something is a good starting point. Then I will find funny pet videos on the Internet. I will also look myself in the mirror speaking only in positive affirmations. Working Monday through Thursday will be another welcome way to redirect me.

Whew! That feels fantastic! The planning part especially. Writing out the worst case scenario first, then progressing backward to best case scenarios along with my plans to attack this … whatever this is. Now we’re cooking with g.a.s. of the epigastric variety. Pun intended.

As always, more to come.