Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you went in there?? Have you ever opened the refrigerator, reached in, only to forget what you wanted?? RSDers and non-RSDers alike have experienced this phenomenon, but this annoying malady is intensified in RSDers. Proven fact, dude … Proven. Fact.
So this is me … explaining it to you … in my own terms …
I named it “etch-a-sketch brain”. There is a perfect picture in my mind and in less than a second <tch tch> it’s gone. Completely!! No matter how hard I try to recreate it, it’s never the exact same picture … until something comes along to jog my memory or until I extinguish my pride and ask somebody if they know what I was doing or talking about (in the hopes of jogging my memory. Never thought thinking could be cardio workout, huh??) My short-term memory has become a whole series of “now you see it, now you don’t’s”. But once I can get a thought transferred into my long-term memory vault, I’m golden!!
Etch-a-sketch brain happens most frequently while having conversations. I know exactly what I’m talking about but there are times when I cannot remember a certain, simple, and important word … or I lose my train of thought all together … mid-sentence. This is a tough pill to swallow for a semantics queen like myself. The feelings of inadequacy and of being an uneducated moron creep into my soul every time. And there is absolutely no way to stop it. So … I have to accept it, but I don’t have to like it!! I battle it with all of the humor I can muster. If not just to put myself at ease, then to put my fellow conversers at ease. They tend to think that my senility is at stake. (no, I didn’t confuse that sentence!! haha) But it’s the look of pity that is the most disconcerting for me … so if I make a joke of it, make everyone laugh, then the looks disappear just as quickly as they apparate. (notice the HP reference?? Yep, just watched the last movie … again. 47 more times and I’ll have it memorized … just like the last 7!!)
Now, what was I saying?? <tch tch> ... OH YEAH …
Here’s what happens in the brains of RSDers … Our neurotransmitters are already working overtime and blowing everything out of proportion. Our opiate pain killers block our receptors … and we grow more to replace the blocked ones … which allow for more openings for the next batch of opiates to sink into … which creates the need for more receptors. (blech!! another vicious circle) So now we have all of these crazy, misfiring, misinterpreting receptors in our skulls and we have the unmitigated gall to expect them to communicate our thoughts properly. WTH are we thinking?? (there’s a joke in there somewhere)
Lemme sum up … PICK YOUR BATTLES, PEOPLE!! We can’t prevent etch-a-sketch brain from happening so we need to make the best of a bad situation. Don’t beat yourself up for something that is beyond your control. Wallpaper in sticky-notes, carry a small notebook for things you absolutely don’t want to forget, carry a voice recorder, ask a reliable friend (or 4 … just in case) to help you remember something specific, get a tattoo (on an unaffected body part, of course), make up a song … do something!! We don’t have to like it, but we do have to accept it!! Why not have fun with it too??
Raising Awareness for RSD (and Ziggi's)
The Power of Orange
Monday, November 21, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Must ... Keep ... Fighting
As a kid, my dad got me interested in genealogy. By the time I was in 6th grade, I had already done reports on the state of Oklahoma, the Sooners (no, the actual Sooners!! You know, the land-jumpers … not the University of Oklahoma mascot.) and the Trail of Tears. Since I had no other immediate relatives living to answer all of my “Why’s”, I researched the events at the library … in books … actual books. Also at an early age, I heard stories translated from a Swedish family bible. I learned a few Swedish words, prayers and hymns, how to hate lutefisk (from experience), and how to balance a ring of candles on my head while delivering coffee and rusks to all of the sleepers on Christmas morning (Santa Lucia). I discovered that I had a passion for research and history (as long as it pertains to something I care about). I also found hope and strength in the pages of those books and hymnbooks and bibles. However, it would take me until my mid-thirties, when I was bedridden and desperate, to be able to understand how to derive the particular hope and strength that I needed to fight the beast, RSD.
My mom’s parents were 1st generation Americans born to Swedish and Norwegian immigrants who came to America on boats with nothing more that the clothes on their backs. My dad’s parents had American roots that ran quite a bit deeper. My paternal grandmother was of English and French descent and can be traced to a few of America’s most brilliant forefathers. She married into one of the oldest establishments in “new world” history … The Cherokee Nation (who liked to mix it up with the Scots back in the day). For all intents and purposes, I refer to myself as a Swedish/Cherokee because those are the ancestral traditions to which I adhere. Whereas in reality, ima mutt!! But I am the offspring of some the toughest, strongest, most persevering sum’bitches that ever walked the earth!!
The Cherokee … survivors of the Trail of Tears, Indian Lawmen appointed to the new US Marshal’s Service. Homesteaders trying to gain equality while the white man suppressed their efforts, all the while still gaining the respect of law abiders and criminals alike. (My great-great-great grandfather, had to register his fists as deadly weapons … true story … I have the documentation to prove it.) The Swedes … refugees of terrible economic conditions, looking for work and better living conditions. They had to change their last name upon arriving (I’m guessing it was a pronunciation thing) and became loggers and farmers. They built churches and homes for themselves and other Swedish immigrants, never having forgotten their own generous and peaceful heritage.
This is the DNA that courses through my veins. These are the stories that fuel my desire to fight. I read about the hardships they all had to endure … and since I’m alive today, they must have triumphed over those hardships. I owe it to them to continue that stalwart legacy. I owe it to my niece and nephew and all other future generations of my family to keep fighting so that, God forbid, anything should happen to them, they can say, “I remember the stories that my Aunt Jenn told me and I watched her fight. I know I can fight too.” I have already started telling them stories. Yeah yeah yeah … I know. They are WAY too young right now to know what I’m talking about … but as they get older, they will remember that they come from a very, very, VERY long line of fighters and survivors. We can’t help but be that way, it’s in our DNA!!
I strongly encourage you to do some research of your own. These days, we have the luxury of being able to use the internet to do most of the work for us … and you never have to get out of your jammies to do it!! Just try it. Find out what forces joined together to make you who you are. Draw from their legacy … and then leave one of your own!!
My mom’s parents were 1st generation Americans born to Swedish and Norwegian immigrants who came to America on boats with nothing more that the clothes on their backs. My dad’s parents had American roots that ran quite a bit deeper. My paternal grandmother was of English and French descent and can be traced to a few of America’s most brilliant forefathers. She married into one of the oldest establishments in “new world” history … The Cherokee Nation (who liked to mix it up with the Scots back in the day). For all intents and purposes, I refer to myself as a Swedish/Cherokee because those are the ancestral traditions to which I adhere. Whereas in reality, ima mutt!! But I am the offspring of some the toughest, strongest, most persevering sum’bitches that ever walked the earth!!
The Cherokee … survivors of the Trail of Tears, Indian Lawmen appointed to the new US Marshal’s Service. Homesteaders trying to gain equality while the white man suppressed their efforts, all the while still gaining the respect of law abiders and criminals alike. (My great-great-great grandfather, had to register his fists as deadly weapons … true story … I have the documentation to prove it.) The Swedes … refugees of terrible economic conditions, looking for work and better living conditions. They had to change their last name upon arriving (I’m guessing it was a pronunciation thing) and became loggers and farmers. They built churches and homes for themselves and other Swedish immigrants, never having forgotten their own generous and peaceful heritage.
This is the DNA that courses through my veins. These are the stories that fuel my desire to fight. I read about the hardships they all had to endure … and since I’m alive today, they must have triumphed over those hardships. I owe it to them to continue that stalwart legacy. I owe it to my niece and nephew and all other future generations of my family to keep fighting so that, God forbid, anything should happen to them, they can say, “I remember the stories that my Aunt Jenn told me and I watched her fight. I know I can fight too.” I have already started telling them stories. Yeah yeah yeah … I know. They are WAY too young right now to know what I’m talking about … but as they get older, they will remember that they come from a very, very, VERY long line of fighters and survivors. We can’t help but be that way, it’s in our DNA!!
I strongly encourage you to do some research of your own. These days, we have the luxury of being able to use the internet to do most of the work for us … and you never have to get out of your jammies to do it!! Just try it. Find out what forces joined together to make you who you are. Draw from their legacy … and then leave one of your own!!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
"C" Is for Coffee ... That's Good Enough for Me!!
Ode to Coffee (and Bertha) … by Jennifer Samson
Oh elixir of the gods, you warm me
You greet me each morning with an abundance of spunk
Your rich bitterness soothes my soul
You keep me moving and put junk in my trunk.
Your odiferous wafts reach out to me in bed
You help me put one foot in front of the other
You organize my thoughts and calm my mind
Why can’t you do that to my brother?
Oh elixir of the gods, you inspire me
Most days it hurts to move and still you beckon
I will walk thru fire to get to you, you stud
I would collapse and die without you, I reckon!!
There you have it!! Being an RSDer automatically means that my motivation sucks!! I don’t want to move because moving hurts, dammit. The ultra strong coffee (caffeine) that Bertha dispenses every day is pretty much the only thing that keeps me moving. My friends that have joined me for a cup or two of this thick, dark, warming liquid have created a term for how they leave my house. They leave “Marty’d”. As in Marty Feldman from Young Frankenstein, with their eyes bulging and twitching. I drink 2-4 pots of that eye tweaker a day, what are they bitching about??
I punished my last coffee pot, Bessie, for almost 9 years. I can only hope that Bertha lives up to the legacy of her predecessor.
Each and every coffee shop that I’ve been to prides themselves on their roasts. I pride myself on the strength!! Even their regular bold roasts are too weak for me … Make mine an extra large Americano with an extra shot and room for extra cream please!!!!! Or let me go back home and brew my own … 1 heaping cup of grounds for 12 cups of startlingly smooth caffeinated joy. If my tummy and I are quarreling (it happens more than I care to admit), I will switch to chai with a shot of espresso. Whatever the drink, the goal is the same … caffeine!!
The down side to ingesting this much caffeine are what I call “the hippy-hippy shakes” … also known as dystonia. (another really fun side effect of RSD … ugh) I get the shakes even without the coffee but, in all honesty, the caffeine does not help. Those are the days I only have 2 pots. Hey, I still need to function, don’t I??
I am a battle-picker. I pick the daily battles that I know I can win and set attainable and challenging goals for myself throughout the week. It builds my self-confidence and independence. It’s always a struggle but that enriched cup of heaven keeps me motoring right along towards the achievement of said goals. (It’s the only thing keeping me typing right now.)
Lemme sum up … COFFEE IS GOOD!!! … nuff said!!
Oh elixir of the gods, you warm me
You greet me each morning with an abundance of spunk
Your rich bitterness soothes my soul
You keep me moving and put junk in my trunk.
Your odiferous wafts reach out to me in bed
You help me put one foot in front of the other
You organize my thoughts and calm my mind
Why can’t you do that to my brother?
Oh elixir of the gods, you inspire me
Most days it hurts to move and still you beckon
I will walk thru fire to get to you, you stud
I would collapse and die without you, I reckon!!
There you have it!! Being an RSDer automatically means that my motivation sucks!! I don’t want to move because moving hurts, dammit. The ultra strong coffee (caffeine) that Bertha dispenses every day is pretty much the only thing that keeps me moving. My friends that have joined me for a cup or two of this thick, dark, warming liquid have created a term for how they leave my house. They leave “Marty’d”. As in Marty Feldman from Young Frankenstein, with their eyes bulging and twitching. I drink 2-4 pots of that eye tweaker a day, what are they bitching about??
I punished my last coffee pot, Bessie, for almost 9 years. I can only hope that Bertha lives up to the legacy of her predecessor.
Each and every coffee shop that I’ve been to prides themselves on their roasts. I pride myself on the strength!! Even their regular bold roasts are too weak for me … Make mine an extra large Americano with an extra shot and room for extra cream please!!!!! Or let me go back home and brew my own … 1 heaping cup of grounds for 12 cups of startlingly smooth caffeinated joy. If my tummy and I are quarreling (it happens more than I care to admit), I will switch to chai with a shot of espresso. Whatever the drink, the goal is the same … caffeine!!
The down side to ingesting this much caffeine are what I call “the hippy-hippy shakes” … also known as dystonia. (another really fun side effect of RSD … ugh) I get the shakes even without the coffee but, in all honesty, the caffeine does not help. Those are the days I only have 2 pots. Hey, I still need to function, don’t I??
I am a battle-picker. I pick the daily battles that I know I can win and set attainable and challenging goals for myself throughout the week. It builds my self-confidence and independence. It’s always a struggle but that enriched cup of heaven keeps me motoring right along towards the achievement of said goals. (It’s the only thing keeping me typing right now.)
Lemme sum up … COFFEE IS GOOD!!! … nuff said!!
Friday, November 18, 2011
Dating and the Dystrophy ~ A Love/Hate Story
I am good at being alone! I wasn’t always, but experience seems to have made me good at things that I would have never thought possible. (being a smart-ass is another one, but that’s a story for another day.) I have lived all on my little own for 4 years now. Not bad for a tall, skinny, crippled broad with abandonment issues. I don’t have to pick up my skivvies that I leave lying on the floor, my dishes can sit in the sink for an extra day (or 2 … or 3), I can roll around in the fetal position screaming in pain without freaking anybody out, I can drink all of the coffee that I want without be judged, and … I can listen to all of the Glee songs I want to without being chastised.
On the flip side of that coin is being lonely. I SO suck at that!! Hmmmm … ok, maybe I need to rethink that last statement … let’s try this … I’ve gotten good at dealing with loneliness too ... but I hate, Hate, HATE being lonely. (whew, there!! much better!!) So I got a dog and she is a godsend. However, as much as I love, adore, and cherish Kiva, there are just certain physical and emotional voids that she cannot fill.
So what did this girl try to do?? If you guessed “online dating” you’d be right. e-harmony, Match.com, and POF. I’ve met some great guys but, as you can tell by my current “Miss” status, none of them have made the cut. I am a woman first and an RSDer second. I’m a package deal. I can’t tell you how much I wish that that wasn’t the case, but there ya have it! The package may be wrapped well and have a pretty bow, but the contents are a bit jacked up … and that’s what bites me in the ass every time!! I have a huge heart and tons of love to give, but my body can’t always show it. Every day is a crapshoot and I have a tough time asking any man to take that gamble. So I deactivated my accounts and started making rules for myself.
I don’t want to be a serial dater, a port in a harbor, or a beck-and-call girl. I want (and deserve) the love of a lifetime <insert cheesy love song here>. I want to spend my life with someone, not just my cell phone minutes. It is not easy being an RSDer, and the man that takes this ride with me needs to be willing to handle the bad days every bit as much as he enjoys me on my good days. The only way to do this is to spend time with me and learn through living. Phone calls, texts, online chatting are great ways to get to know how each other thinks, but until we spend a considerable amount of time together, in each other’s presence, he and I will never know how the other one behaves. I have oodles of faith that I will meet Mr. Right eventually, but I am wary and tired of the Mr. Wrongs. Is there any wonder why I’m so cynical about dating?? I’m not looking for a man with no baggage … I’m looking for a man whose luggage compliments mine!! It doesn’t have to match, but it does need to look good together!!
Enter the newly coined term “non-date”. A non-date is a day long event. It begins with a handshake and coffee and the rest of the day is spent walking or sitting and talking … and examining baggage. Not pawing and molesting and opening up drawers. Did I mention that it takes about 2-3 days to rest my body and save up energy for an excursion like this?? I have to have every wall and barrier in place on the off chance that the man is a freakin octopus with sadistic tendencies. My experience has been that, because of my looks, guys only want to get me into bed … not giving a rat’s ass about or my heart or the pain in my body. The non-date is the escape clause. It’s RSD and me, or it’s nothing!!
I know I have a lot to offer Mr. Right in spite of the beast. I just need to find that 1 guy to see me for me and not what they want me to be.
Lemme sum up … if he wins my heart, then he wins each and every good day I have to offer and has an upper hand in encouraging me to fight harder for more good days!! Every triumph over the beast is just that much sweeter with love as the catalyst. I have found that with the right kind of emotional support, I can even play volleyball again!! But if he tries to ignore or deny the disease’s existence, not only does he deflate my bubble and deplete my strength, but the bastard is not worthy.
And so I sit … single and happy with the decisions I have made … but still lonely :(
On the flip side of that coin is being lonely. I SO suck at that!! Hmmmm … ok, maybe I need to rethink that last statement … let’s try this … I’ve gotten good at dealing with loneliness too ... but I hate, Hate, HATE being lonely. (whew, there!! much better!!) So I got a dog and she is a godsend. However, as much as I love, adore, and cherish Kiva, there are just certain physical and emotional voids that she cannot fill.
So what did this girl try to do?? If you guessed “online dating” you’d be right. e-harmony, Match.com, and POF. I’ve met some great guys but, as you can tell by my current “Miss” status, none of them have made the cut. I am a woman first and an RSDer second. I’m a package deal. I can’t tell you how much I wish that that wasn’t the case, but there ya have it! The package may be wrapped well and have a pretty bow, but the contents are a bit jacked up … and that’s what bites me in the ass every time!! I have a huge heart and tons of love to give, but my body can’t always show it. Every day is a crapshoot and I have a tough time asking any man to take that gamble. So I deactivated my accounts and started making rules for myself.
I don’t want to be a serial dater, a port in a harbor, or a beck-and-call girl. I want (and deserve) the love of a lifetime <insert cheesy love song here>. I want to spend my life with someone, not just my cell phone minutes. It is not easy being an RSDer, and the man that takes this ride with me needs to be willing to handle the bad days every bit as much as he enjoys me on my good days. The only way to do this is to spend time with me and learn through living. Phone calls, texts, online chatting are great ways to get to know how each other thinks, but until we spend a considerable amount of time together, in each other’s presence, he and I will never know how the other one behaves. I have oodles of faith that I will meet Mr. Right eventually, but I am wary and tired of the Mr. Wrongs. Is there any wonder why I’m so cynical about dating?? I’m not looking for a man with no baggage … I’m looking for a man whose luggage compliments mine!! It doesn’t have to match, but it does need to look good together!!
Enter the newly coined term “non-date”. A non-date is a day long event. It begins with a handshake and coffee and the rest of the day is spent walking or sitting and talking … and examining baggage. Not pawing and molesting and opening up drawers. Did I mention that it takes about 2-3 days to rest my body and save up energy for an excursion like this?? I have to have every wall and barrier in place on the off chance that the man is a freakin octopus with sadistic tendencies. My experience has been that, because of my looks, guys only want to get me into bed … not giving a rat’s ass about or my heart or the pain in my body. The non-date is the escape clause. It’s RSD and me, or it’s nothing!!
I know I have a lot to offer Mr. Right in spite of the beast. I just need to find that 1 guy to see me for me and not what they want me to be.
Lemme sum up … if he wins my heart, then he wins each and every good day I have to offer and has an upper hand in encouraging me to fight harder for more good days!! Every triumph over the beast is just that much sweeter with love as the catalyst. I have found that with the right kind of emotional support, I can even play volleyball again!! But if he tries to ignore or deny the disease’s existence, not only does he deflate my bubble and deplete my strength, but the bastard is not worthy.
And so I sit … single and happy with the decisions I have made … but still lonely :(
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Nerve-ember cold is the devil ... Mama says so (sorry mom)
I guess at some point I should mention that November (forevermore known to me as Nerve-ember) is RSD Awareness Month. If you're reading this blog, then I know you are already aware to some extent. Please do me a favor ... pimp me out to your friends and family members!! Help me make everyone aware!! I have been seeing orange ribbons all over Facebook and other social media this month and it has been fan-freakin-tastic!!! But ... I want to be able to reach out through my core network of friends to others who may have pain tricks of their own to share with me and others. The cost of meds, treatments and therapies are so damn expensive anymore that every little trick helps!! And ask me questions on here too, or tell me what works and what doesn't, bitch about your pain ... PLEASE!! RSDers, you are not alone!! RSD families, you are not alone!! RSD Angels (friends and caregivers), you are not alone!! I have a plethora of support to offer and so does my inner circle of family and caregivers. The more you know, the more you can help me make others aware!! RSD in an invisible illness. You might not know which of your friends has it and which ones don't ... unless you share and ask. A lot of sufferers are too ashamed to talk about their pain because they've been called hypochondriacs, liars, pain med addicts, etc ... it's humiliating!! Please reach out!!
Now, it is only mid Nerve-ember but I can say with the utmost certainty that COLD IS THE DEVIL!! Brrrrrrrrr ... freakin brrrrrrrrr!!! Just when I think I've finally warmed up some, I get this chill that just rattles my bones. I start shaking, my teeth start chattering and my RSD goes "ZZIIIIINNNNGGGG"!!! (the bat rastard!!) I shoulda known that when I woke up puking at 5 a.m., today was going to be rough. That's my flashing neon, warning sign. Attractive, no?? I look at it this way ... at least I have a warning sign!! Fortunately I've had a pretty firm grasp on my secret weapon today ... a good mood!! I fixed my phone all by myself, the other 2 Angels are doing some amazing things in the world today, I found a jar of homemade chicken noodle soup in the back of my freezer, I got a few answers to plaguing non-RSD questions, and I found an interviwee for my 1st "blog interview"!!! None of these great factors take away my pain, nor do they make the pain any more bearable. They do, however, keep me pleasantly focused on something other than the pain. Gotta love distractions, man, I'm tellin, ya!!
While everything that is keeping my spirits up are great, the best of these was finding the soup. On bad pain days I usually don't eat. Not only am I nauseous from the pain, but it's almost unbearable to stand up to cook. What sux the most about this is that I love to cook and I used to be pretty damn good at it. I owned my own catering business for a while and everything. Nowadays I have no one to cook for me on days like this except for me, and I may have lost a step or 2 in the kitchen over the last few years, but that's ok. I deal with it. (thank you Stouffer's) But I guaran-damn-tee you that I can't cook when I'm shaking and chattering and zziiiiiinnnngggg-ing and aching and my muscles are twitching. I can't always afford delivery, so pre-made meals are they way to go sometimes. This is one of those times. So I will sit here mummified in my soft electric blanket; and my loose, soft flare clothes; and my fluffy white socks with hearts on them; curled up with Kiva and a large cup of coffee while I wait for the soup to finish thawing.
Have faith, peeps ... tomorrow is a new day!!
Now, it is only mid Nerve-ember but I can say with the utmost certainty that COLD IS THE DEVIL!! Brrrrrrrrr ... freakin brrrrrrrrr!!! Just when I think I've finally warmed up some, I get this chill that just rattles my bones. I start shaking, my teeth start chattering and my RSD goes "ZZIIIIINNNNGGGG"!!! (the bat rastard!!) I shoulda known that when I woke up puking at 5 a.m., today was going to be rough. That's my flashing neon, warning sign. Attractive, no?? I look at it this way ... at least I have a warning sign!! Fortunately I've had a pretty firm grasp on my secret weapon today ... a good mood!! I fixed my phone all by myself, the other 2 Angels are doing some amazing things in the world today, I found a jar of homemade chicken noodle soup in the back of my freezer, I got a few answers to plaguing non-RSD questions, and I found an interviwee for my 1st "blog interview"!!! None of these great factors take away my pain, nor do they make the pain any more bearable. They do, however, keep me pleasantly focused on something other than the pain. Gotta love distractions, man, I'm tellin, ya!!
While everything that is keeping my spirits up are great, the best of these was finding the soup. On bad pain days I usually don't eat. Not only am I nauseous from the pain, but it's almost unbearable to stand up to cook. What sux the most about this is that I love to cook and I used to be pretty damn good at it. I owned my own catering business for a while and everything. Nowadays I have no one to cook for me on days like this except for me, and I may have lost a step or 2 in the kitchen over the last few years, but that's ok. I deal with it. (thank you Stouffer's) But I guaran-damn-tee you that I can't cook when I'm shaking and chattering and zziiiiiinnnngggg-ing and aching and my muscles are twitching. I can't always afford delivery, so pre-made meals are they way to go sometimes. This is one of those times. So I will sit here mummified in my soft electric blanket; and my loose, soft flare clothes; and my fluffy white socks with hearts on them; curled up with Kiva and a large cup of coffee while I wait for the soup to finish thawing.
Have faith, peeps ... tomorrow is a new day!!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Verbal Regurgitation (thank you Facebook)
I have these 2 friends ... no really, I do ... They are my rocks, my cheerleaders (minus the skirts), my inspirations, my voices of reason when mine is mute (or gagged), my babysitters, my sounding boards, my co-conspirators, my co-defendants (not yet, but give us time) ... anyway ... They have their own pain issues too (1 has ol' lady knees and the other has an ol' lady back) but those two goofballs give me strength!! Now here's where this gets tricky, because they will tell you that I'm the one that gives them strength and inspiration. They. Are. Dumb. I cannot be who I am and do what I do without them in my life ... every day!! They make me fight when I think I can't go on and they call me "bitch" and mean it!! But when those 2 say it, it is said with all of the love, respect and admiration that 3 friends can share. We call it like we see it with each other ... and without all of the cattiness and backstabbing that goes along with most female friendships. I have never said this about 1 friend, let alone 2 ... but I need them both desperately!! Two of us live in the same town and try to see each other at least once a week. The other lives a kadrillion miles away in another state. So we Facebook. We have a series of group messages that is longer than my left leg ... and that's just over the last 10 days. We share stories about the idiots, our families, our dogs, our frustrations, freakin hilarious jokes and auto-correct "fails" that are not appropriate to put on our walls, we ask for input and advice and we practice the fine art of Verbal Regurgitation.
Yet another Jenn-ism, Verbal Regurgitation is the practice of venting about a certain current situation or insecurity just to get it off of our chest so we can get over it, forget about it, and get on with our day. And might I just add that it is very effective!! It is the only venue where I don't give a crap about grammar, spelling, and punctuation. It is a full blown rant. Usually, we use all of the cuss words in our arsenals, caps locks, and we go ballistic with exclamation points and question marks. V.R. is the best psychological and emotional therapy that I know of. And a hell of a lot cheaper!! So if you can get your hands on 1 or 2 good friends who know when to keep their mouths shut and when to give advice, I highly recommend the practice of Verbal Regurgitation!!
To date, there is only one man that has been able to handle the 3 of us when we're together. We have nicknamed him "Bosley" and we are his "Angels". This man is ah-mazing!! A couple of weeks ago we had a pretty heavy snow storm. I'm pretty sure you can guess how that cold and wind was making me feel. Whether I want to be or not, I am an early riser unless I'm in an abundance of pain. On this particular morning, I slept in until 6:30. After doing the Frankenstein Crawl to my living room, I opened the blinds expecting to find this perfect blanket of white shit across my whole front yard. What I saw instead, were damp sidewalks and walkways with 6" walls of snow on the sides, and tufts of shoveled snow in the yard. 5 minutes later I get a text from Bosley telling me to stay inside and stay warm. He took care of my walks before he went in to work. And that's just one thing that he does for me!! He's a great friend and confidant to my girls too. We LOVE him!!!
If you don't have friends like mine, get some!! If you can't get them on your own, buy them!! Do SOMETHING!!! Whether you're and RSDer or an RSD Caregiver, friends like these guys are imperative to our sanity!! They give freely, listen closely, and ask nothing in return. To my Angels and Bosley, you know who you are and you know how much I love you. I thank God for you 3 every single day. If you ever leave me I will hunt you down and bludgeon you with the remnants of my 20 yr anniversary of dealing with RSD ... you know, the FURSD Day extravaganza?? Yeah, I'll beat y'all with it!! You're stuck with me!!
Yet another Jenn-ism, Verbal Regurgitation is the practice of venting about a certain current situation or insecurity just to get it off of our chest so we can get over it, forget about it, and get on with our day. And might I just add that it is very effective!! It is the only venue where I don't give a crap about grammar, spelling, and punctuation. It is a full blown rant. Usually, we use all of the cuss words in our arsenals, caps locks, and we go ballistic with exclamation points and question marks. V.R. is the best psychological and emotional therapy that I know of. And a hell of a lot cheaper!! So if you can get your hands on 1 or 2 good friends who know when to keep their mouths shut and when to give advice, I highly recommend the practice of Verbal Regurgitation!!
To date, there is only one man that has been able to handle the 3 of us when we're together. We have nicknamed him "Bosley" and we are his "Angels". This man is ah-mazing!! A couple of weeks ago we had a pretty heavy snow storm. I'm pretty sure you can guess how that cold and wind was making me feel. Whether I want to be or not, I am an early riser unless I'm in an abundance of pain. On this particular morning, I slept in until 6:30. After doing the Frankenstein Crawl to my living room, I opened the blinds expecting to find this perfect blanket of white shit across my whole front yard. What I saw instead, were damp sidewalks and walkways with 6" walls of snow on the sides, and tufts of shoveled snow in the yard. 5 minutes later I get a text from Bosley telling me to stay inside and stay warm. He took care of my walks before he went in to work. And that's just one thing that he does for me!! He's a great friend and confidant to my girls too. We LOVE him!!!
If you don't have friends like mine, get some!! If you can't get them on your own, buy them!! Do SOMETHING!!! Whether you're and RSDer or an RSD Caregiver, friends like these guys are imperative to our sanity!! They give freely, listen closely, and ask nothing in return. To my Angels and Bosley, you know who you are and you know how much I love you. I thank God for you 3 every single day. If you ever leave me I will hunt you down and bludgeon you with the remnants of my 20 yr anniversary of dealing with RSD ... you know, the FURSD Day extravaganza?? Yeah, I'll beat y'all with it!! You're stuck with me!!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Directionally Challenged ... it's a Jenn-ism
This is an all-encompassing phrase that pretty much sums up my whole adult life. But here's what made me think of it today ...
I got lost in north Denver this morning ... even with GPS on my iPhone. For some reason, I subconsciously find the need to go beyond my turn for a block or 5 before I turn around and try to get back to where the little blue dot on my phone says that I need to go. Yep, it's not an adventure unless I have to make at least one u-turn. Needless to say, I have had a lot of auto-ventures! For about 16 years, most of these auto-ventures resulted in a stress-induced flare. As the years went on, the only thing at which my skill level improved was hiding the pain. Put me on a highway, interstate, open road, in mini-cities or smaller and it's vroom vroom-game on!! Put me in big cities and expect me to navigate myself more than 5 minutes off of the interstate or beaten path and I am screwed! But you know what all of this has taught me over the last 4 years? If I can find a way to poke fun at myself, make light of the situation and, most importantly, laugh, I can avoid a flare, relax a little bit and that's when I usually locate my destination. It's all a matter of perspective. Unfortunately there are very few people who take the time to understand my quirks. Most people just think I'm a little crazy and try to help by telling me where to go, but my true friends trust that I will get them to our destination safely ... via a scenic route and they will laugh with me. And can I just say, "thank God for open minds that allow the possibilities of multiple perspectives"? Seriously! If I stress out about every little thing that I screw up, I'll be locked up in a padded room and heavily sedated.
Back to getting lost this morning ... I was heading to the elementary school where my brother is a 2nd grade teacher. They're studying the War of 1812 and my brother knows that history is one of my passions and had asked me if I would like to come and help. So ... While he taught about Betsy Ross, Dolley Madison and Francis Scott Key, I graded math papers. While he was explaining how "Old Ironsides" got it's nickname, I was checking vocabulary homework. And while he was giving a math lesson about measurements, I was playing on Facebook on my phone. Honestly though, I love helping in the classroom. I've been doing it for over 25 years. My mom retired from kindergarten teaching 2 years ago and my sister teaches Kindergarten in Kansas City. Helping with kids is one of the few things that I can do where I feel good about myself and the work I do. And sometimes, the satisfaction of being able to help my family and future generations and be able to put my heart into the work without hesitation is a fantazmic distraction from the depression off of which the teeth grinding pain feeds. Today is just that kind of day!!
Another u-turn that I've made in my life was quitting booze and pain pills. In my own defense, I was only taking the pills as prescribed. You know those little warning labels on the sides of the pill bottles? There's "Take with food," "Stay out of sunlight," "Avoid operating heavy machinery," "Do not consume alcohol while taking this medication," ... yeah, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to those. I had a flask of martini's tucked beside my bed, I filled and refilled empty 2 liter bottles of ginger-ale with $20 bottles of champagne and, at one time, I had a lovely collection of wine bottles. No two were the same. I was so f*#cked up all of the time that I only got out of bed to go to the bathroom, refill my coffee and smoke. My folks (God bless 'em) sat me down for a little intervention on a sunny Sunday morning in June of 2005. That was pleasant ... NOT! My mom lost all of her make-up and snot to two boxes of tissues. My dad, Mr. Stoicism, could barely look me in the eye ... and he's an attorney! Last but not least there was my husband (now EX ... again, let's thank God for that), who was ready to give my skinny ass the boot. We looked at 28 day rehab facilities but because of the RSD, no one was willing to take on that liability. So lucky me got to spend my time in the psych ward ... oops, I mean Life Management Unit. It allowed my docs to monitor me as I detoxed from the alcohol while they re-regulated my pain meds. After 3 days with the crazies, I walked into the shrink's office and told her that I wanted off of ALL of my meds. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and I was willing to stay there to do it. We had a pow-wow with my other docs and I was warned that there would come a day when I would have to take them again. I said, "Nope! Let's do this!" (I was riding the pink cloud of being sober, don't judge!) Three weeks later I walked out of that place with a new lease on life and some really cool pictures that I drew during art class.
IT IS OK TO MAKE U-TURNS AND LAUGH ABOUT THEM!!! You WILL arrive at your destination eventually, but make the best out of whatever bad situation you're in ... or at least try to make the best out of it. Stress adds pain, pain adds stress, stress adds pain, pain adds ... do you see the ugly monotony that can be avoided?? I knew you could!!
I got lost in north Denver this morning ... even with GPS on my iPhone. For some reason, I subconsciously find the need to go beyond my turn for a block or 5 before I turn around and try to get back to where the little blue dot on my phone says that I need to go. Yep, it's not an adventure unless I have to make at least one u-turn. Needless to say, I have had a lot of auto-ventures! For about 16 years, most of these auto-ventures resulted in a stress-induced flare. As the years went on, the only thing at which my skill level improved was hiding the pain. Put me on a highway, interstate, open road, in mini-cities or smaller and it's vroom vroom-game on!! Put me in big cities and expect me to navigate myself more than 5 minutes off of the interstate or beaten path and I am screwed! But you know what all of this has taught me over the last 4 years? If I can find a way to poke fun at myself, make light of the situation and, most importantly, laugh, I can avoid a flare, relax a little bit and that's when I usually locate my destination. It's all a matter of perspective. Unfortunately there are very few people who take the time to understand my quirks. Most people just think I'm a little crazy and try to help by telling me where to go, but my true friends trust that I will get them to our destination safely ... via a scenic route and they will laugh with me. And can I just say, "thank God for open minds that allow the possibilities of multiple perspectives"? Seriously! If I stress out about every little thing that I screw up, I'll be locked up in a padded room and heavily sedated.
Back to getting lost this morning ... I was heading to the elementary school where my brother is a 2nd grade teacher. They're studying the War of 1812 and my brother knows that history is one of my passions and had asked me if I would like to come and help. So ... While he taught about Betsy Ross, Dolley Madison and Francis Scott Key, I graded math papers. While he was explaining how "Old Ironsides" got it's nickname, I was checking vocabulary homework. And while he was giving a math lesson about measurements, I was playing on Facebook on my phone. Honestly though, I love helping in the classroom. I've been doing it for over 25 years. My mom retired from kindergarten teaching 2 years ago and my sister teaches Kindergarten in Kansas City. Helping with kids is one of the few things that I can do where I feel good about myself and the work I do. And sometimes, the satisfaction of being able to help my family and future generations and be able to put my heart into the work without hesitation is a fantazmic distraction from the depression off of which the teeth grinding pain feeds. Today is just that kind of day!!
Another u-turn that I've made in my life was quitting booze and pain pills. In my own defense, I was only taking the pills as prescribed. You know those little warning labels on the sides of the pill bottles? There's "Take with food," "Stay out of sunlight," "Avoid operating heavy machinery," "Do not consume alcohol while taking this medication," ... yeah, I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to those. I had a flask of martini's tucked beside my bed, I filled and refilled empty 2 liter bottles of ginger-ale with $20 bottles of champagne and, at one time, I had a lovely collection of wine bottles. No two were the same. I was so f*#cked up all of the time that I only got out of bed to go to the bathroom, refill my coffee and smoke. My folks (God bless 'em) sat me down for a little intervention on a sunny Sunday morning in June of 2005. That was pleasant ... NOT! My mom lost all of her make-up and snot to two boxes of tissues. My dad, Mr. Stoicism, could barely look me in the eye ... and he's an attorney! Last but not least there was my husband (now EX ... again, let's thank God for that), who was ready to give my skinny ass the boot. We looked at 28 day rehab facilities but because of the RSD, no one was willing to take on that liability. So lucky me got to spend my time in the psych ward ... oops, I mean Life Management Unit. It allowed my docs to monitor me as I detoxed from the alcohol while they re-regulated my pain meds. After 3 days with the crazies, I walked into the shrink's office and told her that I wanted off of ALL of my meds. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and I was willing to stay there to do it. We had a pow-wow with my other docs and I was warned that there would come a day when I would have to take them again. I said, "Nope! Let's do this!" (I was riding the pink cloud of being sober, don't judge!) Three weeks later I walked out of that place with a new lease on life and some really cool pictures that I drew during art class.
IT IS OK TO MAKE U-TURNS AND LAUGH ABOUT THEM!!! You WILL arrive at your destination eventually, but make the best out of whatever bad situation you're in ... or at least try to make the best out of it. Stress adds pain, pain adds stress, stress adds pain, pain adds ... do you see the ugly monotony that can be avoided?? I knew you could!!
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