Where to Start...?

I am here and I am alive :)  The longer I go without writing, the harder it is to get in the mood to write. I wish I had lots to say, but I honestly can't come up with much of anything at all to say.

I am not doing well. Physically, I've healed from my surgery. The scar doesn't bother me at all. The loose and puckered skin does, but there is nothing I can do about that. I haven't gone to my six-week post-op visit yet, so I don't know if my thyroid hormones are still normal. I am just really hoping that everything is normal and I don't need medication.

Mentally, I am so angry at myself for completely letting myself go in the summer when my headache started. My non-stop headache for four months gave me an excuse to eat and not exercise. I just couldn't focus on anything when my head was hurting, and I made myself feel better by eating junk. And moving around a lot made it worse, so I was the least active I'd been in a long time.

By the time I got my tooth extracted (effectively killing my headache) I had developed horrible habits that I'm still having a hard time changing. My weight is higher than it's been in probably three years, maybe longer--167. In August, it was 145.

[Because I'm sure someone will mention it, I'm 99% sure that my thyroid had nothing to do with the weight gain. It was my bad eating habits for sure. No excuses there.]

I need to make a plan. I'm miserable at this size, which I know sounds ridiculous considering I used to be like eight sizes larger than this, but I just do not feel good in my own skin. I'm a lot saggier than I was when I was running regularly, which is making me want to start running again. I would be a REAL beginner again--only 15 years older than last time, hahaha.

My clothes don't fit and thrift stores are now very expensive so I'm resisting buying clothes--and holding out hope I can lose enough weight to get back into my wardrobe soon.

Needless to say, I am not happy with myself right now. My psychiatrist just added a medication to hopefully help with this stubborn episode of depression. I don't think I've had an episode like this since before my bipolar diagnosis in 2017.

I would end this with promises of writing again soon, but clearly I cannot hold myself to that! I will definitely try though. I really want to write a plan of action to get my life back on track. We've had mild weather for the last couple of days (after tons of snow and ice and miserable cold all winter) so I am hoping that the change in weather will help my mood, too!

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The Downside of Blogging

This feels weird. Writing, I mean. Once again, I had no intention of leaving the blog for so long! I promised before that I would write a "final" post when I decide to quit blogging so that nobody will have to wonder what happened, and I will definitely do that. But I don't feel like I'm ready to give it up altogether yet, so here I am.

I'm about to get really vulnerable here...

When I first started blogging, I had no idea that my blog would gain so many readers. I had actually been writing for 11 years at that point, but I switched over to the Blogger platform because it was much easier to add pictures than the platform I'd been using. I basically wanted to document my struggles and triumphs in regard to my weight and running goals. (I didn't know that Blogger would make me more noticeable on the internet. Having a handful of readers at the time was comfortable for me, as I'm an (ironically) private person in general.)

The very early days of Runs for Cookies... so young and unaware of what was ahead! ;)

Later that year, I had a couple of big things going on--I was invited to be on The Dr. Oz Show to talk about my weight loss and I had skin removal surgery to remove the excess/loose skin around my abdomen. I remember signing in to blog one day and I saw that the page views had jumped from 100-ish to about 10,000 overnight! Rather than get excited, I was extremely anxious about it--why on earth are people reading what I write? Don't they know I'm not a "real" writer? I can't possibly write private or vulnerable things here!

I soon discovered that there were a lot of people out there going through the same things that I was, and it was great to have that support system, so to speak. And then I started to get a few negative comments here and there, about random tidbits I'd written, and they stung a little. I only ever had good intentions, didn't speak badly about people, and stayed away from very controversial topics. Besides, 99% of the people I interacted with were so kind! I didn't understand the negativity.

[Side note: I believe there is a big difference between "constructive criticism" and just plain rude or mean-spirited comments. I've received a lot of constructive advice/criticism over the years and I appreciate it--I've learned a lot of new things from commenters who are kind in offering their opinions/advice. The negative comments I'm referring to in this post are the mean-spirited and/or rude ones, where the only purpose is to hurt my feelings or shame me.]

Also worth noting: I know that by opening up a large part of my life here on the internet, I'm basically asking for some rudely-worded criticism. But I loved writing and meeting some amazing people and I tried to go with the "it comes with the territory" belief.

I was able to brush off the comments that were really ridiculous ("Don't you know how much sugar is in grapes? You eat so many of them. You're going to get diabetes." I actually got several comments about eating too many grapes, and those comments were easy to laugh at. Actually, some of my friends will still banter with me about my horrific grape habit, ha ha.)

However, some of the comments were really hurtful. I found that it's usually the comments about the things that I'm already insecure about that hurt the most--I began to wonder if everybody thought of me that way. ("I can't believe you would let your kids have all of those sugary toppings on frozen yogurt. You're teaching them your bad eating habits and they're going to get obese too.")

That, along with some other parenting comments, planted the seed that I was a bad mom, which led to questioning other decisions I made. If I wrote about something I was proud of, like throwing away the second half of a brownie rather than eating it when I knew that half was plenty, I was told, "That's not something to be proud of, unless you're proud of eating disorder behavior.")

Because being a stay-at-home mom isn't very common anymore, I have dealt with a lot of criticism from that. Jerry and I are very happy that we made that decision 20 years ago, and we wouldn't change it. Jerry feels good about supporting our family and I truly enjoy being a "homemaker". I know it's not for everyone, and that's okay. We made the decision that we felt was best for our family. There is SO MUCH MORE to being a stay-at-home parent than taking care of the kids, and the comments that told me I was lazy, worthless, and a bad wife made me upset. I have two absolutely amazing kids--people tell me all the time that Jerry and I raised great kids--and I like to think that my being a stay-at-home parent helped in that way.

There are people that can read comments like that and laugh them off or just forget about them... I wish I was one of those people.

As Mark would say, "Ain't that the truth." (If only I could flip a switch and do it!)

As I was growing up, I can't even begin to guess how many times I was told I was "too sensitive". I admit it--I'm a sensitive person! [Note: That is *not* to say that I get offended easily, however. It's actually very difficult to offend me. When people are joking around or they are friends of mine or bantering, etc... it's great to laugh, especially at myself!] But when someone wants to hurt my feelings, it's (unfortunately) very easy to do so.

I care so much about making people happy and when I feel like I disappoint them in some way, it makes me feel really bad about myself. [Note: I know this is more about me than the other person and I need to work on my self-confidence and all of that. Comments from strangers should not affect me like this. I recognize that. But I can't just snap my fingers and make myself into someone that I've never been.]

Through the years of blogging, I've read a lot of not-so-nice things about me. The first few times you read something negative about yourself, it can be fairly easy not to put much thought into it. But reading it over and over for years began to take a toll on me. I still loved writing (I have met so many amazing readers and friends due to my blog) but my self esteem was taking a hit with each mean-spirited comment, even though there weren't many of them.

One day in August of last year--I remember it like it was yesterday--I had a couple of negative comments and reading them at that moment just kind of broke me. I was still going through The Worst Year Ever and was feeling about as low as I could get; reading that I was a "lazy wife without a real job" hit me like a punch in the stomach. The timing couldn't have been worse.

My already-severe anxiety went through the roof. I wondered if everybody thought I was lazy and forced my husband to work like a slave just so I could sit around and watch TV and eat bonbons all day. And since I'd gotten comments before about how I exaggerate my feelings and that I don't have "real" anxiety, I didn't feel like I could write about it.

There are a lot of topics that I stopped writing about over the years for that reason. When I opened up one time about having too much empathy--I know that sounds weird, but it affects my emotions so hard that I wish I could turn it off sometimes--someone called me a narcissist. I'd wanted to write much more about it so I could describe what I meant and even see if anyone else had the problem, but I felt judged and too vulnerable after that.

I want so badly to have thick skin, to not worry about what others think of me, to stop trying to please everyone, and to live my life without apology! (If you are one of those people, don't ever take it for granted. I envy you.) When taking a break from my blog, I felt like I could do what I wanted and not be judged or criticized for my decisions. Over the last year, my anxiety over writing has been really hard on me.

Right now, I have a big lump in my throat, my hands are sweaty, my heart is racing, and my stomach is in knots... all things that happen when I'm anxious. Out of all of the 3,681 posts I've written, this is the one I am most anxious about posting. I always planned to write something like this before I quit blogging--I hope that everyone reading this will see that words, even from strangers, really can hurt people. 

When a bully started calling me "Shamu" in the fourth grade, I became extremely conscious of my weight... and I went on my first diet. I also started binge eating and eating in secret. I'm not saying that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been called Shamu; but I do know it was a catalyst for a lifetime of issues with my eating habits.

Again, there are people that can brush off comments like that; and then there is me... sensitive to the point that I begin to question myself in all parts of my life. And again, I know this is a problem *I* need to work on, and I am always trying. I'm not writing this to say a big "eff you!" to the people that criticize me (although I definitely want to sometimes); rather, I hope to give some perspective on how tiny words can make a big impact on someone's life.

To end this with a positive note, I do want to say that I am SO thankful for all of the kind people out there. Just like hurtful words can make me feel bad about myself, the overwhelming positivity from 99% of my readers has kept me writing for the last 13 years. I don't fish for compliments when I write, but a kind word never fails to take a little of the sting out of the mean ones. And while I am horrible about replying (I am so sorry about that), I do read and take to heart every single one of them. It's not just the negative comments that affect me. I've gotten so much positivity through the years that my heart feels like it will burst sometimes.

When I started this post, I planned to just write a little about the last month or so--has it been that long?!--but all of this just spilled out. I think I'm just exhausted from holding it in all the time.

Anyway, I hope to write again soon. I've had an eventful end to the summer--including my first airplane flight since 2019!--so I will try to give the CliffsNotes version when my stomach isn't it knots ;) 

Now, I'm off to eat some of the diabetes bombs grapes that are on sale for 99 cents a pound!

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Self-Care

I think that was the longest break I've taken from blogging in, oh, 13 years? Yikes!

I should have checked in at some point, because I felt guilty about the abrupt absence, but I didn't realize just how much I needed that break until after our Minnesota trip. I loved getting to see Becky (and the kiddos, of course!). There is so much to catch up on--some things I'll probably post about over the next couple of weeks, but some things are pretty irrelevant now, so I'll pick and choose what to write about.

(Also, I have a million photos to sort through, so I'll just include a couple of random ones in this post)

Look how grown up Luke is! He drove me around the property on a golf cart. He's also a faster reader than I, haha--I bought him a Captain Underpants book and he read the whole book on a Sunday morning. Meanwhile, I spent 24 hours in the car (roundtrip) and I finished one book.

We've had SO many big changes in our household recently. Noah moved out in December (taking Phoebe with him), Jerry started an entirely new work schedule, Eli graduated high school, and both Noah and Eli took jobs where Jerry works. I didn't love the idea of the kids working at the plant (I want them to do something they truly enjoy) but they were very enticed by the pay and benefits.

Eli plans to stay there a year, saving up as much money as possible before he (hopes) to start an electrical apprenticeship. Noah still isn't sure what he wants to study; he's changed his program three or four times. Rather than continuing to spend money on school, he wants to work full time until he figures it out. Regardless of what they choose to do, I'm cool with it. They both actually really like working at the plant for now!

I still don't have a car, but I'm okay with that. I'd rather put off my errands and things for the evenings and weekends than take out a loan for a car right now. Also, Eli is hoping to buy a new (used) car soon; when he does that, I'm going to drive the Volvo. Definitely different from my Jeep, but our luck with cars over the last year makes me reluctant to get a new one.

Aside from all those changes, the main reason for taking time off was basically for self-care. After The Worst Year Of Our Lives (I'm not sure what else to call it, so that's how Jerry and I have been referring to all the crap we went through), we both felt kind of broken. It's been about two years since our long streak of bad luck started and I'm definitely still dealing with a lot of it (emotionally).

I recently learned who I can and cannot count on to be here for me in tough times, and that was really hard to accept. I let some people down by dealing with my own stuff and neglecting those relationships (not purposely; I just felt so emotionally drained, like I had nothing left to give). And I just wasn't in the mindset to write a vulnerable post.

So, I spent the last month focusing on ME--something I haven't done in at least 18 years. It seemed like it was a good time because Eli had just graduated and it felt like a transition period for me, from "stay-at-home mom" to "homemaker". I did a lot of crafting (mostly sewing) and more introspection than ever before. Last week, I had an epiphany that years of therapy was never able to uncover--why I eat for emotional reasons--and that felt like a huge burden was lifted. I'm not ready to write about that yet, though.

Working on crafts has been very therapeutic and I'm starting to feel "lighter", if that makes sense. I'm hoping that I can move forward now (with life in general) and recharge my emotional batteries (that's a lame way to put it, but that's the best I can describe it).

Riley and I made bracelets for each other. She's so creative! We played doctor (I was the patient, of course) and she took an x-ray, said I had a broken arm, did surgery, put a cast on it, and gave me instructions to cover the cast in the shower for 10 months--BAHAHA. I also had my teeth worked on multiple times when we played dentist.

Aside from all that, things here are good. Jerry and I are solid, the kids are happy and "grown up" (very bittersweet for Jerry and me), the pets are doing great (Phoebe is SO happy at Noah's!), and we haven't had any mini-catastrophes in a while. I'd been pushing Jerry for years to find a hobby he enjoys but he couldn't think of anything that really interested him (other than disc golf, which he loves, but isn't convenient to do very frequently).

I made these for Jerry for Father's Day. I have loved Shrinky Dinks ever since I was a kid, and I originally made him a keychain of the ECTO-1 license plate (from Ghostbusters). Then I had the idea to transfer drawings the kids had done--pictures they drew OF JERRY when they were each four years old! As well as the way they wrote "daddy". Eli's says "Dae" because that is how he said it at the time--DAA--EEE, basically skipping over the DD--and he sounded it out. So cute! Jerry loves the keychains.

When we were in Minnesota we took Luke and Riley to the Mall of America, where they have a LEGO store. Even though Jerry had never gotten into Legos before (I know it's LEGO, but I just can't get used to NOT calling them Legos), it suddenly piqued his interest (I'm sure the Star Wars and Ghostbuster Lego sets had nothing to do with it--ha!). Then Eli gave him a LEGO set and suddenly he was hooked--and very excited that it could be a good hobby for him.

He spent most of the weekend working on it and then pulled out the thousands of Legos we have (about half of them are at least 40 years old!) and the instruction manuals for different sets, and now he wants to start putting those together. I had started sorting them a while ago, hoping to put the sets back together, but it was taking soooo long. I love building with Legos, but sorting them is no fun at all, haha. They are currently sorted by color, which is helpful.

I haven't done a weigh-in in a while, so I will get back to that on Wednesday. I don't have a great feeling about it, but I'm also not going to put pressure on myself. I feel like I've gotten a lot of emotional baggage out of the way and I will have an easier time focusing on my physical wellbeing. In fact, as soon as I finish this post, I'm going to run!

My friend Sarah (the one who lives in Arizona) is coming to visit this week and I couldn't be more excited to see her. She's been my best friend since we were toddlers, basically, and she's someone that I know will always be here for me. She understands me almost as much as Jerry does. We can go months without talking, but then we spend a couple of hours on the phone and pick up right where we left off. I haven't seen her in a very long time (I think almost two years) and I look forward to catching up in person!

Thank you for the comments and emails, truly. I appreciate the kindness more than you can ever know. I wasn't trying to ignore anyone, and I should have said I was taking a break--but I had no idea I was going to be away this long. It's kind of hard to jump back in, because where do I start? I'll just take it one day at a time, writing when I want to and not writing when I don't feel like I have much to say. Writing this post feels good :)

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Wednesday Weigh-In: Week 111

This is one of the shirts I bought at the thrift store with the intention of using part of it for something else--but I liked it so much when I put it on that I decided to keep it ;)

I am currently writing this from Jeanie and Shawn's place in the upper peninsula! It was a long day of driving, but it wasn't too bad, actually. It went by quickly. The kids slept most of the time and Jerry and I listened to some podcasts. 

I'm going to keep this short (for obvious reasons) but I still wanted to do my Wednesday Weigh-In for accountability. On the scale this week:

I was at 137.6 today...

Considering I was at 141.0 last week, I'm down 3.4 pounds! I wish I could say it was due to great eating habits and exercise, but once again, I feel so overwhelmed that I haven't been able to eat much. This is so weird to me! I have never been one to lose my appetite like this--usually I eat MORE when I'm stressed--but feeling overwhelmed and feeling stressed are two different things to me.

I feel like stress is very fast-paced, kind of like a "to do" list--lots to get done and feeling rushed and just being busy. To me, feeling overwhelmed is a huge overload of things happening in a short time period--not just things to do, but also just things that are happening. When so many things are going on at once (even if it's something that doesn't directly affect me, like Brian and Becky getting divorced in February) I get extremely overwhelmed. I tend to close myself off from people (which I'm sure is the opposite of what I *should* do) and get too much in my own head. It makes me want to just go hide somewhere and come out in a year--ha!

I've had an overload of things on my plate right now and it's very much affecting my mood. I'm hoping that being up north for a few days will help me to chill and hopefully take things off my mind. It's been really hard to talk to anyone about anything lately, so I may try to find another therapist. I really liked my last one, but I didn't feel like we were getting anywhere or that there was really a plan in place. Despite a rocky start with my psychiatrist, though, I actually really like him now, so I think I'll ask him for suggestions for a therapist.

Anyway, I didn't intend to go on that tangent! Being up north, I'll probably eat more, so I may gain some of this back next week. But I'm happy to be back in the 130's for sure. My clothes are starting to feel a little less tight, which usually happens when I get to about 135 pounds.

This week, I'm going to try to take time for myself (reading in the hammock!) and playing some board games and sitting around the fire with my family. Hopefully I'll be in a refreshed mood next week. And tomorrow is Noah's 19th birthday--I can't believe it!

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Three Things Thursday: Seeking Discomfort

Wow. The comments on my post yesterday brought me to tears more times than I can even count. I'm going to try to reply to them this weekend. (I know I'm terrible about replying to comments, and I feel horrible about that!)  Thank you so much for the kind words.

Today's post was actually inspired by my psychiatrist. At my last appointment, we talked a lot about my anxiety. He told me about a book he wanted me to read called 'When Panic Attacks' by Dr. David Burns, and it gave me a lot of hope that I can heal the anxiety I feel all the time.

Coincidentally, later that night I randomly picked a show to watch on Hulu about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I learned quite a bit about it and I hadn't realized that it was a form of anxiety disorder. On the show, people living with severe OCD receive the help from a therapist who specializes in it, and I was absolutely shocked at the difference in their OCD symptoms in just 12 weeks. (I highly recommend the show--it's called 'Obsessed')

The main approach, along with cognitive behavioral therapy, was exposure therapy--exposing them to the things that they fear or that gives them the most anxiety. Instead of coping mechanisms, they basically sit with the anxiety (in the situation) until it recedes. To me, it sounds terrifying to even think about!

I don't have OCD, but I do have generalized anxiety disorder (diagnosed by my psychiatrist years ago). There are some anxieties that are very common and relatable (which are probably the ones I'll list here) and also some that I don't even talk about because just the thought of talking about them gives me anxiety, hahaha.

Okay, so here are three things that cause me anxiety--and how I plan to expose myself to them in the hope that the anxiety will fade over time...

1. Make phone calls.

I don't know exactly when I started avoiding talking on the phone, but I can remember having anxiety about it as far back as my mid-20's. I don't think anything triggered it; I just found myself avoiding making phone calls whenever possible. (Actually, now that I write this, I think it was around the time that texting became mainstream.) It's interesting because I used to talk on the phone non-stop when I was in my early teens--literally HOURS a day!

I don't want to set goals for this or anything finite. I just want to face it head-on as much as possible--rather than typing out long-ish texts, I'll try calling first. If they don't answer, then I can just leave a message. The hardest part for me is actually just getting up the nerve and dialing the number. The conversation isn't what produces the most anxiety.

While I'm not going to set "goals" for this or anything, I do want to keep track in my journal about my anxiety levels. I can write what the level was before making the call and after making the call. And then over time, hopefully it will get easier and my anxiety levels will drop.

2. Meet new people.

I'm so bad at this. I feel extremely nervous when meeting people because (I think) I come across as very awkward. I'm not witty or quick to think of things to talk about. Jerry says I don't come across this way at all, but maybe it's just the awkward way I feel about myself when meeting someone.

You're only given one chance at a first impression, and I always worry that mine will be awkward for the person I'm meeting. I want them to feel comfortable!

This is something I've actually been working on for a while. I make it a point to make small talk with strangers when given the opportunity. For example, today I went to Lowe's as I saw a man trying to lift a piece of plywood onto a cart (which I know from experience is NOT easy) so even though I felt anxious about it, I stopped and asked if he wanted some help because it's much easier with two people. And thankfully, he wasn't too proud to accept help from a middle-aged woman ;)  I also chatted a bit with the cashier, who was extremely friendly, and I left the store with a smile on my face.

So, while this isn't something totally new to me, it's something I still have anxiety about (although it's getting less extreme). Now, I want to dive right in to seeking out opportunities to meet people. Talking with strangers, even just a short interaction, may help me become more comfortable when meeting new acquaintances.

3. Going places.

I don't mean running errands or anything like that. I mean doing social things or things that are just for fun. The pandemic played a big role in making me even more of a homebody than I already was, but for my entire life, I have always felt most comfortable at home.

I think this may have something to do with bipolar disorder (for me, anyway). I thrive on routine--doing the same things day after day--and as boring as that may sound to some people, it's how I feel comfortable. No surprises. Even having an upcoming appointment gives me anxiety because it throws my day out of routine. (I wish this wasn't the case! I'd love to be spontaneous or even just able to adapt easily to what's going on.)

When I am invited to go out or get together with friends, I feel extremely anxious about it (I honestly have no idea why--I love my friends!). When it comes time for me to go, I feel a sense of dread--which sounds horrible, I know--but almost always, once I am there, I enjoy myself and I'm glad I went.

To seek discomfort here, I'm going to make a list of people I haven't seen in a while, as well as people that I exchange pleasantries with--you know, the "Hey, we should get together soon and catch up!"--and then I will *actually* attempt to make plans. When I say that we should get together soon, I actually do mean it; it just doesn't ever happen. So, I'm going to try my best to make it happen--hopefully with a phone call rather than a text!

And even if I'm not meeting up with friends, I'd like to make it a point to go places "just because"--like go to the library to write my blog posts, or take Joey to a dog park instead of walking around the neighborhood. I'm more comfortable with the familiar--being at home--so I want to make it a point to go to a variety of places for a variety of reasons. Hopefully, I'll get more and more comfortable when stepping outside of my comfort zone!

---

I've been reading the book my psychiatrist suggested and I really think I will find it useful in helping me work on these three things. Then I'll talk to him about it at my next appointment. And maybe--just maybe--I'll be a less anxious me soon! :)

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The Most Vulnerable Parts of Me

This picture is old (2020?) but I don't have that shirt anymore

Like I said yesterday, I'm not going to weigh in today. After being gone for a week and totally out of my comfort zone, it wouldn't even be a fair representation of my weight. I'll continue my Wednesday Weigh-Ins next week.

I want to write about something that I always assumed was pretty obvious, but perhaps it's not to some people: I don't write *everything* about me or my life on my blog. There are a LOT of personal things that I just choose not to write about for whatever reason. I do share quite a bit (probably too much) here, which is why I'm sure some people feel like they know me (and I love that! I feel like I know a lot of you, too.)

However, when I'm going through a tough time, sometimes I don't want to write about it (or it's not my story to tell). And I don't feel like I owe an explanation to anyone (even if I want to "defend" myself from the criticism). I've been going through a very rough patch over the last year or so and some things I choose to share, while others I choose not to. I experienced something rather traumatic last year and it's not something I feel comfortable opening up about. I am still working on getting past it, but that is one reason I have been feeling so emotional.

When people don't have the full picture, it's hurtful when I am judged for simply what I choose to write about. I write about all sorts of things--good and bad--so it's not like I'm cherry-picking only the best parts of my life to share. (That's for people to do on Facebook, hahaha)

This is a personal blog, and I'm aware that I open myself up to criticism for posting it publicly (and constructive criticism is fine!) but I also ask that the rude judgment be reserved for the whole picture and not just snippets of my life. I do downplay a lot of my emotions here because I try to "stay positive!" and "look at the bright side!". However, when I do write vulnerable posts such as this, I am always honest in what I choose to share. 

My blog has changed so much, especially over the last eight years or so. I used to be very candid and I wrote lots of personal things; but over time, my writing has become more and more vanilla. I try to avoid certain topics that I know people will read too deeply into; I don't write much about mental health anymore, even though it's a huge part of my life; I quit writing about budgeting, because people don't know our whole financial picture. I could write a whole post about why I don't share food logs anymore! And parenting? That's just opening a huge can of worms.

I don't have thick skin--I never have--and perhaps blogging was the wrong choice for me. I never thought my blog would gain so many readers; when I started writing, there were a handful of people who had been reading my "online journal" for a decade. (I started blogging in 2000, only it was on a different platform; I switched to Blogger simply because it was easier to share pictures in posts! I didn't realize how much more exposed it would be.)

When people are mean to me, it hurts! Even when they are complete strangers. I wish I could "brush it off" like all of my friends and family tell me to do, but it's not that simple for someone like me. I take everything to heart; when I do my best to be kind and it's received poorly, I feel like there is something wrong with me. Then I overthink it to death.

Over the last several years, people (not necessarily my blog readers, but just people in general) have gotten so sensitive to everything--I constantly wonder if I'm saying something that might offend people. Or using a word that is no longer politically correct. Or making a joke that people may not realize is a joke. I always have good intentions when I write and I never mean to offend people. Most of the time, it's easier to avoid certain topics altogether.

People that know me in real life know that I'm a genuinely NICE person. I'm shy, but I'm always polite and I do my best to make people feel comfortable. I try to see the best in people, even the ones who don't like me. I'm generous--with friends, family, and strangers--and I don't post about those things because I don't do them for recognition. I just like to make people happy!

Not everybody is going to like me, just like I'm not going to like everybody I meet. However, I do my best not to judge people (and if I do, I usually catch myself quickly and change that thinking). I'm extremely empathic (to a fault, for sure) and I always try to put myself in someone else's shoes before judging.

I recognize that everybody is different and I respect others' opinions (even though I don't always agree). I don't think there is a "one size fits all" for a multitude of topics--diet, exercise, parenting, financial decisions, etc.--and I make sure to keep that in mind when chatting with others.

So, when I say that I feel overwhelmed (and have felt this way for going on a year now), I'm keeping quite a bit of it to myself. Sometimes I don't want to open myself up to criticism about certain topics and sometimes there are some things that I'd just like to keep personal.

Because of my hyper-empathy and that I always want to make sure people are happy, I put a LOT of pressure on myself. And when people aren't happy for some reason, even if it's something that has nothing to do with me, I blame myself for it. (I know this isn't logical, and it's something I've discussed multiple times in therapy, but I think it's just a part of who I am.)

I want to do what I can to "fix" it and make everything all better so that people are happy again. Since I don't actually have the power to do that, I feel like I've failed--as a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an aunt, a niece, an in-law, a blogger, a pet-mom, a neighbor, and probably other hats I fill.

It really saddens me when I see some of the comments that people leave for each other on social media. I no longer use Facebook (well, maybe I'll look through the feed about every 2-3 weeks); I rarely use Instagram, although I do find it to be more positive than Facebook; and I don't use Twitter, Snapchat, TikTok, or any of the other platforms that people use to say mean things. I know of at least two teens (through my kids) that recently took their own lives, and the comments they received on social media played a huge role in their suicides.

Wow--I didn't intend to make myself quite so vulnerable in this post, or make it this somber. The short version is that none of us knows the whole story of what other people are going through. Judging someone based on a short snippet of their life isn't fair to them. In a perfect world, we would all be kind to each other and if we didn't have something nice to say, we wouldn't say anything at all.

It's obviously not a perfect world, but it doesn't hurt to do what we have the power to do. We have the choice to decide how to treat others and I think the way we choose to do that speaks volumes of ourselves. As much as I want to rant about a comment I may get on occasion, I choose not to engage in that sort of behavior. To be a genuinely kind person, I have to act like one--and if more people did that, maybe we'd be on our way to a perfect world. Hey, I can dream ;)

Note: I want to make sure that those of you who have been kind to me in some way--whether through comments, cards, gifts, emails, phone calls, texts, donations, well-wishes, or in-persons--I appreciate every last one of you. I would have quit blogging eight years ago if I didn't fall in love with so many nice people! I want you to feel this very heartfelt thank you <3 

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Admitting Defeat

Something I'm starting to get better at over the years is admitting when my plans and/or goals don't go my way. The biggest example has been my Wednesday Weigh-Ins. While I was losing weight over the past year and a half, I continued my weigh-ins every single week, regardless of whether I'd gained weight or not. Previously, I would just stop posting them because it was embarrassing to share that I'd "failed" or just plain not met a goal. I felt like gaining weight meant I didn't try hard enough. 

Over time, I realize how stupid this mentality was. Nobody *really* cares about whether I reach my goals. Nobody *really* cares about whether I gained weight. They don't think about it all day--or even think about it at all--except for the moment they are reading my blog.

This really changed my attitude about running, too. One day I just realized that NOBODY CARES what my finish times are at races or what my training pace is. The only person that even thinks about it is me! When other people tell me their race times, I don't think anything of it--and I certainly don't judge them. I simply don't care how long it took them to run 5K or 13.1 or 26.2 miles. Unless they run a ridiculously fast finish time, it doesn't even really register. I used to think that it was important--that I had to run "respectable" times--but would anyone even remember what my finish time was, even 60 seconds after I told them? I'm guessing nope.

Did I reach my goal in this race? It was a half-marathon, but I don't know if I finished in 1:50-something or 2:30-something or a number in between. No clue!

I've heard a LOT of people's finishing times over the years since I started running, and I can honestly tell you that I don't remember a single one of them.

The other day, I was trying to think of what my finish time was in my first marathon, in Cleveland. I honestly couldn't remember! I knew it was around 5:30, but if even *I* can't remember, why would I think anyone else would?

When I worked at Curves years ago, we would weigh and measure women. I weighed people so often that the number would never even register in my brain; I just looked at the number and copied it down in their file. It was kind of like when you drive a familiar route every day, you don't really remember the drive because it's so automatic. The number could have been 120 pounds or 350 pounds and I wouldn't have given it any thought, let alone remember what it was. It was sad that a lot of the women felt like they had to explain or maybe worried that I was judging them; in reality, their weight meant absolutely nothing to me.

When I finally had this "aha!" moment that NOBODY CARES but me, it was freeing in a way. I felt so much less pressure--pressure that I had put on myself--and I stopped trying to be perfect all the time. I have failed at a lot of things in my life, and I'm going to fail at a lot more. Anybody who says that they've never failed is lying.

I'm ambitious when I set goals, probably to a fault. I dream big and plan out everything and expect it to go perfectly. Once in a while it does, but most of the time it doesn't. And when I do succeed, it very rarely goes according to plan. One of the hardest parts of blogging about my life is that my goals and failures are out there for everyone to see. If I fail or I quit or I just change my mind about what I'm working toward, it's hard to admit! It's hard not to think about people judging me from behind their computer screens.

Having the "nobody cares but me" attitude has helped with that so much. I'm the only one putting the pressure on myself to reach goals--whether it's weigh loss or running or something else entirely--and now, admitting defeat is getting so much easier.

So what is it that inspired this post? Three days ago, I quit 75 Hard. I didn't just fail at a goal. I quit! Plain and simple. I decided it wasn't a good time for me to take on such a huge challenge--I had SO much going on over the past few months and I need a mental break. A mental toughness challenge is literally the exact the opposite of what I want or need right now.

I know that I was really excited going into it, and I had made up my mind that I was going to finish it, no matter what. I would not quit. I would be "perfect" for 75 days.

Quitting 75 Hard was prompted by my having to stop working on finishing the bathroom/bedroom project to go work out for 45 minutes, only to work on the bathroom again, only to then exercise another 45 minutes. Meanwhile, I was still doing all of the other stuff I had to do during the day. I was hating it! I was in the zone while drywalling and then I found it really difficult to work on it it again after exercising.

And yes, this is the whole point of 75 Hard--it's *supposed* to be inconvenient and hard--but I'm not mentally tough right now. I want to finish the bathroom because it's been weighing on me for three months. I know I could do both if I was feeling mentally tough, but I want a break. I want things to be easy for a little while.

Despite admitting defeat, I feel really good about quitting. I don't feel bad about myself, and I don't feel like I "failed". I just feel like I am doing what is best for me. Maybe I'll try again down the road, maybe I won't... but I am not going to beat myself up over this attempt. I've failed and succeeded in tons of goals or challenges throughout my lifetime--and interestingly, the ones I remember are the successes. 

I don't remember the races that I failed to hit my time goal; but I do remember the ones that I succeeded. And I think that's a good thing! Nobody wants to dwell on their failures.

This photo is a from a race that I remember. I worked SO HARD for months to run a PR in the 10K. I trained my ass off. And I beat my goal time by 19 seconds! 

I do still have the goal of Michael Goggins' 4x4x48 challenge, though--I'd really like to do that one day. And the past week and a half has sparked an excitement about running again. Not because I have to, but because I want to. So I'll continue to run, and if/when I feel ready, I'll take on the 4x4x48!

Now, I'm off to work on the bathroom... and I won't be taking an exercise break ;) 

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Wordless Week: Day 1

(This post explains wordless week)...

 

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Therapy

I don't have any transformations to post for Transformation Tuesday, which is a bummer! I still keep thinking it's Monday, though--holiday weekends always confuse me the following week. Today has been a long and exhausting day. I just got home from cross country practice and just as I thought, the kids were very excited about the fun donations to our team. After they ran today (speed and hills!) they did a six-legged race, which was so funny. (I'll post more about cross country later this week.)

I don't remember if I mentioned this already, but I decided to start going to therapy again. I know I keep writing about feeling super overwhelmed and I don't mean to sound cryptic; I was just hit with several big things at once (like the disaster in my bathroom/bedroom). That is still moving along, just very slowly.

I worry about my dad a lot because his health hasn't been good. My mom went to my sister's for a few days and she's usually the one that pushes my dad to go to the hospital or get tests done or things like that (my dad is stubborn and would probably never have gone to a doctor on his own). While she was gone, my dad got very faint a few times and he actually fell down five times in three days. He hit his head a couple of times, which is why my mom made him go to the ER when she got home.

Thankfully, the CT scans were fine; but it doesn't resolve his low blood pressure causing him to feel faint and fall. I know exactly what he's talking about when he describes it, because it's the same thing that happened to me when I fainted and broke my jaw. I also fainted and hit my head a few years ago. I have low blood pressure like my dad and I feel faint frequently when I stand up from a sitting or lying down position.

As if that wasn't enough for him, when he went to the ER, he tested positive for COVID, too! Anyway, I'm always worried about him now. He's got a lot of health issues going on at once and there really isn't a solution. He's tired of doctors and tests and I don't blame him at all.

To write about the other stuff I'm dealing with would invade others' privacy so I can't write about it--and that's actually why I chose to find a therapist. To top it off, my psychiatrist is retiring in December and I only have one more session with him. I really like him so I hope he can recommend someone that's a good fit for me.

Today was my first appointment with the new therapist and I'm glad I made the decision to go. I'll see her weekly for a little bit and then every other week and/or as needed. As you know, I'm passionate about mental health. I always tell people that finding a therapist is like dating--you might have to see several before you find one that you click with. Thankfully, I really liked her (I'll call her "A") and I'd like to keep seeing her. 

While this post comes off as a downer, I didn't mean for it to--today was a really great day. Better than I've had in a long time, actually--Jerry even mentioned noticing it before he left for work. And it will be even better when I eat some of the hash I made before I left for practice! I'm starving--you know, from watching kids run up and down a hill and yelling at them to keep going ;) 

I know I haven't been posting the daily "random fact" calendar tidbits, but today's was perfect for this post:

There is nothing wrong with seeking help for mental health, and I hope that by writing about it, there will be less of a stigma and more people will feel comfortable talking openly about it as well. I always feel vulnerable when writing about it, but mental health/illness is so important and I don't think it's something people should feel ashamed of.

Okay, I'm going to go heat up some hash and then hit the hay ;)

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Mental Health Day

Getting the garage ready for Noah's Christmas-in-July birthday party (the skeletons wanted to take part, too)

If you read yesterday's post, then you know I'm just not feeling so great mentally. Jerry is off work today before going to visit a friend for the weekend, so I'm going to spend the day with him. I always feel less anxious when I hang out with him.

So, I'm declaring today a mental health day for myself and I'll be back to regular blogging tomorrow. Right now, Jerry and I are going to attempt cross stitch of all things! Hahahaha. It was an impulse buy, but we thought it would be fun to work on.

Have a great night :)

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Near Panic Attack

Well, today was another bad day. I spent the whole morning trying to think of someplace I could go that wouldn't cost me a fortune. Flights are SO expensive right now that I can't fly anywhere. And gas is so expensive that driving very far would cost just as much as a flight!

I debated using a buddy pass to fly to my friend Sarah's in Arizona, but the problem is that a lot of flights are being canceled lately. Even if I got there via stand-by, there isn't a guarantee that I would get home on time. And Sarah is coming here to visit on Thursday anyway!

There's been quite a bit of drama around here (not with Jerry or me) and I just needed to get away. My sister said I could drive up to her property, and ultimately, that's what I decided to do. I packed my things and was ready to go 10 minutes later. It's a 10 hour drive, so I wasn't looking forward to that.

For days now, my anxiety has been really bad. And immediately, when I started driving, I couldn't let go of that feeling. I even had to turn off the radio and my podcast so it was silent in the car (that makes for a long 10 hours!). I started feeling a panic attack coming on and I really needed to take a break and calm down, so I stopped at a rest area.

I saw on my GPS that my arrival time to Jeanie's would be after 1:30 AM. Not only do I hate driving in unfamiliar places--places in the middle of nowhere--but driving in the dark makes it so much worse.

After agonizing over it (and texting a few people) I decided to turn around and come back home. I'd only made it about two hours before turning around, but what a waste of time and gas!

Okay, I promise to do my best to post normal stuff tomorrow. I haven't felt this much anxiety and (mild) depression in such a long time! Have a great night :)

I had hoped and planned to post pictures of Noah's bedroom today, but right now is just not the time. Tomorrow, I'll work on it in the morning so that it's ready to go. I'm going to cut this short right now because I want to just take my anxiety meds and hopefully fall asleep. I haven't eaten dinner yet either (it's after 8:00, which is late for me to eat) so I'm starving.

Sorry for the downer of a post! I really hope the cost of flights comes down soon. 

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Looking Up!

I'm pretty sure that I've made it clear by now that December has been an incredibly stressful month for me. I have been trying to sound positive to the best of my ability, but in truth, I've been miserable. It's not been a typical bipolar depressive episode; I'm not depressed. But I have cried many, many tears of frustration, of being totally overwhelmed, of stress and anxiety, and just feeling like I have so many decisions to make but not being able to make decisions in this state of mind. Or making the wrong ones.

The little trouble maker that started this whole thing! ;)

Today is the first day that I really feel like things are looking up! It started this morning when Phoebe paid attention to me while I was feeding the other cats. Since she's been sick, she does nothing but sleep; I have to "force feed" her several times a day (I have a disgusting purée of salmon that I blended with kitten formula--then fed her by using a syringe to squirt it in her mouth). She hated when I had to feed her, but she refused to eat or drink on her own. She's a tiny cat as it is--only 6.5 pounds--and she can't afford to get any thinner.

I put some wet food in front of her this morning and she sniffed it. I dabbed a little on her nose (so she'd lick it off and hopefully discover she liked it). She showed no interest. I put her in front of her water bowl, hoping she'd drink from it. She sat there for a little while staring, but she finally drank some water! It was such a small thing, but I felt SO relieved from it. That's the first I've seen her drink water on her own since she got sick (11 days ago? 12? I don't even remember.).

I gave the cats dry treats and put a couple in front of Phoebe, just in case, and she actually ate a few of them. I was shocked. She wanted dry treats but no wet food?! I then put a pile in front of her, but she was no longer interested. A little while later, I tried these little squeeze packets (it's essentially puréed wet food in a packet that you squeeze slowly while the cat licks it). I was stunned when she actually ate the entire thing. It's not much (the packets are very small) but it was a big start. I've been trying to get her to eat those every day but she's never interested.

I gave her another one a little while later, and again, she ate it. So, as long as things keep going like this, I'm done feeding her with the syringe! The syringe doesn't sound so bad, but it was awful--she would spit it out, getting fish-smelling clumps all over my clothes, it would get on her and make her fur all crusty, and it made her just plain hate me. She was avoiding me and when I would just go over to pet her, she cringed because she probably expected me to pull out the syringe to feed her.

Today, she actually went over to the couch and jumped up on Jerry's lap. She laid there and slept for a long time (she used to do that before getting sick). Each time I saw some of the "old Phoebe" showing, I felt lighter and lighter. The stress is starting to lift.

As far as the other cats: Chick and Duck are 100% back to normal. Duck is back to jumping on the bathroom counter until I brush him, getting into mischief everywhere he can find it, playing fetch, climbing the Christmas tree, "talking" to me all day, and just plain begging for attention. Chick is as curious as ever, always looking for a box to climb in or something to attack. He also does everything he possibly can to sneak and get Phoebe's or Estelle's food (in addition to his own).

Estelle is not back to normal yet, but she's doing much, much better. I don't hear any congestion when she breathes anymore. She's back to climbing on my lap anytime she sees me sit down (if she even suspects that I'm going to sit, she's there before I am, waiting to lie on my lap). She's eating and drinking--not as much as she used to, but I don't have to push her to eat.

So, as far as the cats go, I am feeling a million times less stressed. Seeing Phoebe perk up a bit today was just what I needed. The worst is over.

I missed getting together with my family for Christmas. Brian and Becky invited us to their house for Christmas Eve brunch (along with my parents and Nathan) and I had been planning to go. However, when Becky asked me if we were going because she wanted to plan the food situation, it was a really, really bad moment for me to have to make that decision.

I was super emotional that morning--the cats weren't doing good; my sister had just told me about how I really need to be cautious about the new COVID variant (she works with COVID patients at the hospital); I hadn't been able to work on the gifts I was making for Luke and Riley, and I knew I wouldn't finish them in time; I still needed to buy a few Christmas gifts; I had zero groceries in the house and the kids were asking me what we were doing for dinner; my house was completely neglected because I'd been so busy with the cats; and I was mentally exhausted to the point where I just couldn't concentrate on anything at all.

So I told Becky I was sorry, but we wouldn't be there. Later, when I wasn't as emotional, I wished I'd said yes; but I didn't want to make things more stressful for her if she'd already bought the stuff for brunch. I know she wouldn't have minded, but I also know that it's frustrating when people change their minds after you have things planned.

On Christmas, it was about 50 degrees outside!! It was PERFECT for going out to the garage and working on something to de-stress. I decided to make something much quicker for Luke and Riley for Christmas--a backyard slingshot. (The other project I'd been working on was very meticulous; I'll post about it here later, when I start working on it again.) Here is a picture of the backyard slingshot that inspired me (from Rogue Engineer):

I'm not making it to those exact plans, but it's very similar. After opening gifts with Jerry and the kids in the morning, I spent some time working on the slingshot. I got it all built; now I just need to paint it and add the actual sling part. The good news is that I already had all of the materials to build it. Then I spent the rest of the day with the family. We got Chinese take-out for dinner and watched Christmas movies.

I'm finally starting to see the light at the end of this nightmare tunnel, and I am so glad that I can (hopefully) go into 2022 with a much better attitude and emotional state (albeit about five pounds heavier than last month). I have been thinking about some goals (my favorite part about starting a new year!) and I am feeling more optimistic. It's been really nice having Jerry home from work, too. We haven't really done anything significant, but just having his company has been helpful.

Yesterday, my sister told me that she's taking a short mental health break for herself, so she was only going to be looking at her phone once a day (in case I needed to get in touch with her). Today, she sent me the start of a guest post about her job right now dealing with COVID patients. It's fascinating and it's exactly what I've been really wanting to hear about--I want to read first-hand accounts from people who work closely with COVID patients so I can truly understand what that's like from their perspective.

I told her I can't wait to share it, so she's going to continue to work on it and I'll post it soon as part of the COVID Diaries series I was working on. (And I'd still love to hear from others as well!)

I hope everyone had a very merry Christmas and is looking forward to the new year :)

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Just Wednesday

I held Chick to wipe his eyes and nose and then he just sprawled out like this. So we got cozy for a little while ;) 

I totally forgot that today was Wednesday Weigh-In. When I got up this morning, I probably couldn't even tell you what month it is--I feel like a zombie!

I went to bed on the early side but couldn't sleep at all because of the cats. Each time I heard one of them walking around, I wanted to see what they were doing (they usually sleep all night). I have to make sure they are eating so whenever I heard them awake, I tried to get them to eat. (Cats can't go very long without food; their livers can start to fail in just a couple of days.)

Then at 3:30, Estelle's noisy breathing woke me up. She was very congested so I decided it was time to get up for the day. I took the hottest shower I could stand to steam up the bathroom while Estelle was in there with me (the bathroom, not the shower). I was really surprised at just how well that worked for her. After the steam treatment, she ate a whole plate of food. I immediately went on Amazon and bought a humidifier with same-day delivery (let's hope it actually arrives today). I'm going to crank the humidifier up and see if that helps.

I called the vet today to see if I could get Phoebe in. She's really not doing well. I've been having to hand-feed her with a syringe (cat formula and pureed salmon--blech!) but I'm sure she's still not getting enough. She just doesn't want to eat or drink anything.

So, she has an appointment tomorrow. I'm guessing they'll want to keep her overnight--a feeding tube and an IV for fluids--which really sucks. Remember when I brought Duck in on a Friday for his emergency surgery? I wasn't able to pick him up until Monday because they were closed on Sunday. So, because of the holidays, I am not sure how long she'd have to stay.

I feel terrible taking her in because I know she's going to hate me for it, but she really needs to be seen. And she pretty much hates me right now anyways--when she sees me bring food and a syringe over to her, she visibly cringes away from me. I am constantly worried about her.

The good news is that Jerry is off for a whole week! And since he's on a night shift schedule, he'll still be staying up at night and sleeping until early afternoon. So, he can take care of the cats during the night and maybe I'll be able to sleep. It feels like we have newborn infants again.

Anyway, even though I didn't do an "official" Wednesday Weigh-In, I know that I haven't lost anything. I've really learned quite a bit about my eating habits over the past few weeks--I definitely don't deal with stress well and when I'm super stressed like this, I simply don't care about my food choices. I clearly need to work on stress management, but now isn't the time to even think about that.

I also started taking my anti-anxiety med twice daily (I usually just take them as needed, but I saw my psychiatrist last week--in person for the first time since the pandemic!--and we switched it up for now. It either makes me retain some serious water or I just plain gain weight when taking it daily. Or maybe both, I don't know. Either way, I'm hoping that the cats get better fast and I can go back to the norm.

I really need to start making myself a priority again--eating better and running, specifically. Everything was going so great until about a month ago. I really don't want to lose the progress I've made. You know how when you're worried about something, it's the only thing you can think about? Well, that's how I've been ever since Duck swallowed that yarn. I've been constantly worried--first him and now all of the cats. This all started from a stupid piece of yarn!

I promise I will stop complaining about the cats soon. It's just my life right now! I've never had a cat with an upper respiratory infection before and it's nerve wracking (especially considering all four of them have it). I think I'll feel better after talking to the vet tomorrow.

I can't believe it's nearly the end of December already. Remember how everyone complained about 2020 being the worst year ever and being so excited for 2021? Well, now 2021 is almost over!! It's so crazy how fast this year has gone by.

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A Downer of a Post

I don't have a new picture for this post, so here is another from the webcam on Friday when I was writing my blog post. When I don't pay enough attention to Duck (like when I'm trying to type) he pushes his paws on my face until I pet him and look at him.

I've been feeling like a wreck for 10 days now. Just when I thought all was going to get back to normal and Duck was healing from his surgery, I woke up at 3:30 AM today when Duck sneezed in my face. He never sneezes, and I thought it was weird. Then he started sneezing several more times.

In between sneezes, he was making an odd sound--not a cough, really, but almost like clearing his throat. And he would partially open his mouth, like you do when you're waiting to sneeze. The noise sounded almost like something was irritating his nose or throat, making him sneeze. He seemed fine, otherwise, but I was getting pretty worried about the noises.

I called the vet (and of course, it's Sunday! They are closed.) I wasn't sure it warranted a trip to the emergency vet hospital in Toledo (if he was struggling to breathe, I would have gone in an instant), so I thought hard about what it could be.

The only thing that came to mind was that maybe it's a hairball. Remember how he wormed his way out of this recovery garment a couple of days ago and had totally groomed himself spotless? Since he hadn't groomed himself in a week, I'm sure there was a lot of fur that he swallowed.

I went to PetSmart to buy a product for hairballs (it's a gel that you squeeze a little onto their paw and then they lick it off (because apparently, chicken-flavored gel tastes good to cats). It kind of lubricates the hairball to get it moving.

I had another mini-breakdown today. All of this has been too much to deal with over the past 10 days. (And I know that there are people who have it MUCH worse than a sick cat; I just mean that relative to my own regular stressors, this has been at the top.)

I just feel so SAD. I hate to use the word 'depressed', because I don't know if this is an actual bipolar episode or not--maybe I'll feel completely better once Duck is better. But I am definitely feeling depressed right now. I've tried making myself go do other things to take my mind off of Duck for a little while, but I can't get him off my mind and I hate to leave his side. He needs help getting up and down because he's still having a problem with his incision and I want it to totally heal.

Today, I asked Eli to come sit with him for a little bit so that I could go start some laundry, clean out the litter boxes, start the dishwasher, and stuff like that. I even tried to go work on a project in the garage, but I just couldn't get excited about it. Usually my little workshop in the garage is my happy place!

I know that a huge part of the problem is that I don't get any sleep. I've had insomnia for as long as I can remember and nothing helps--and I've tried it all. I think I would just feel so much better if I could manage to get more than 3-4 hours of sleep (and my 3-4 hours is always interrupted at least a few times). When my rheumatologist said to me that the best thing I can do for fibromyalgia is to get a good eight-hours sleep at night, I literally laughed and then burst into tears in a matter of seconds, haha. If she only knew what I wouldn't give for a good night's sleep. 

I'm also really upset with myself about totally slacking on my recent weight loss. I was doing SO good for months and I felt like nothing could stop me--but right now, it's just so hard to even care. I feel like it's super trivial to think about when I would give anything for Duck to get better and be back to his normal self. He used to be super vocal, chatting with me all day long; other than in the car on the way home from the vet, he hasn't meowed at all.

Sorry this is such a downer of a post. I just need one really GOOD day where nothing seems to go wrong so I can recharge. Jerry has a week and a half off of work over Christmas, which should be something to look forward to, but after the past 10 days, the holidays just seem more stressful than anything else. It bothers me because Jerry LOVES Christmas and I have been the biggest downer ever so far this month.

I wish that "snapping out of it" was something that people could actually do! I need some Grinch pajamas--a onesie. That would totally fit my mood AND make me appear to be in the Christmas spirit, haha.

Anyway, I'm going cuddle with Duck and watch Wentworth (a show on Netflix I recently became addicted to). I *really* hope he's doing better tomorrow; if not, it's another trip to the vet.

EDIT: Almost immediately after I wrote this, Duck's breathing was really scaring me. I noticed that every time I petted him by his ribs, he would open his mouth a bit like he was waiting to sneeze. And then if I didn't stop petting, he actually did sneeze.

Then, of course, I do some googling and I'm convinced he's dying of edema of some sort. So, I once again packed him up in the car and we went to MedVet in Toledo (an emergency hospital for animal$). I was amazed at the care there. When they sent an intern out to get Duck from the car, she actually said I could go inside and stay with him if I'd like, but the appointment was going to be 4-5 hours long(!!).

I hesitated, wondering what to do (was this really an emergency?) and she said she'd be happy to check him out in the car and see if she thinks we should stay. I showed her the papers from the other vet and she examined him. She said she definitely does not feel like it's an emergency--his heart and lungs sound clear, everything looks good, he's eating and all that. So she said she felt 100% confident that we could wait and just call the other vet in the morning (if he's still having the problem).

I was so relieved to hear this. She was exactly the kind of reassuring person I needed to talk to tonight. (And funnily enough, she actually has two cats named after Friends characters too! She loved the Duck and Chick names.) AND, the best part? I wasn't even charged for the exam! I was dreading the bill from this visit (if I'd ended up staying) because the emergency room status makes the price much higher. 

Okay, so I'll at least feel better about this until morning. I was just terrified that if I didn't take him in, something horrible would happen during the night and I would really regret not going.

(I've been taking anxiety meds every single day this week and I'm still this much of a mess.)

EDIT Monday morning: Duck was NOT doing well this morning. Hiding, no interest in food or water, just not being even close to himself. I took him to the vet (again) and his temp was 105.9!! That is super high. Now he will be spending the next two nights in the hospital.

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What Hypomania Feels Like (to me)

I was going to take a "mental health day" from blogging today; my anxiety has been really bad ever since I started feeling the onset of a hypomanic episode, and today I just wanted to work on a project with all of my focus so I don't think about anything else. But that is classic hypomanic behavior...

"Hey I'm just gonna stay up until 4 AM so I can fine-tune this miter saw until the 90 degree angles are PERFECT because right now they are at least 0.003 inches off of square and how am I supposed to make anything at all if the cuts aren't precisely 90 degrees? I might as well just pitch the whole thing in the fire pit and forget about woodworking altogether because how am I ever going to be good at it with angles that are off by a titanic 0.003 inches? That's shoddy work and I don't want to be known for doing shoddy work and if I just work on this tonight I know I can square up the cuts by morning!"

(I hope you know that I am saying this with tongue-in-cheek... but that's basically how hypomanic/manic thoughts work.)

Which leads me to this post. I may have written about this before, but since this is what's going on with me right now, I thought it appropriate to write about how hypomania FEELS. For the 99% of the population who don't have bipolar disorder, here is a description of what it's like for me. (It varies from person to person. I'm just writing about MY experience.)

If you're not familiar with the term "hypomania", it's an episode of bipolar disorder that is a slightly milder form of mania. Hypomania does not involve psychosis or delusions or require hospitalization. (I wrote a lot about bipolar disorder on the post where I "came out" with my diagnosis--you can find that post here.)

I'm SO ANNOYED by absolutely everything right now (by "right now", I mean much of the time during an episode of hypomania). When I'm hypomanic, my senses go into overdrive and it makes me crazy (well, crazier than I already am). Every single noise is magnified and trying to concentrate on something is impossible with all the noises going on.

Right now, just trying to write this, I hear Eli in the kitchen getting ice water--the ice cubes clanging around--while Joey's nails click on the floor as he follows Eli around. I hear the hum of the refrigerator and one of the cats walking around the living room. I hear the fan from my ice machine. I hear Noah across the house talking to his friends online. And I even hear my own heart beating.

The worst part is that all of the noises are at the same sound level--I don't know how or why this happens, but each of those noises is 10 times louder than normal and I couldn't even tell you which is the loudest.

Noah has a cold and he's been blowing his nose a lot--it is all I can do not to rip my ears from my head and throw them in the garbage disposal just so I don't have to hear that noise anymore.

My sense of touch is also heightened, and not in a good way. My clothes irritate my skin, but even my bare skin is irritated by the air around it. (I know how weird that sounds.) 

I also can't focus on anything. I know that contradicts what I wrote about wanting to work on a single project; basically, I get super focused on one thing at a time and I put all of my energy and effort into it, but at the same time, I can't focus on anything other than that. And then I get really annoyed when something distracts me from what I'm TRYING TO concentrate on.

This morning, for example, Eli showed me his geometry homework and said he thought it was dumb--that it didn't have anything to do with geometry. He was given a worksheet of logic puzzles (you know the ones that you read clues and you have to fill in the grid to solve the puzzle?). Well, I LOVE those things. I have even bought books of them to work on back before playing games on my phone and stuff like that. Eli said it was extra credit so he didn't have to do it, but I told him I wanted to do it.

So I grabbed the paper and was excited to work on it (at first, I was going to show him how to do it, but he had no interest in learning). Within 15 seconds, I knew I wasn't going to be able to do it because of all the noises. The house wasn't any louder than usual, but because of the hypomania, all I could focus on was the noise around me.

Another symptom that I experience with hypomania is anxiety. I have generalized anxiety disorder and anxiety is always there, waiting below the surface, but when I'm hypomanic it decides that it's a great time to mess with me. So I feel really uneasy and anxious without knowing why.

There are some good things about hypomania (although they don't outweigh the bad, in my opinion): I have lots of energy; I get in the mood to clean everything ten times over; I feel a higher sense of self-esteem; and I get super talkative. As a quiet, shy person, sometimes I really wish I was more outgoing and talkative. Hypomania makes me feel like I need to tell someone all the ideas and thoughts I have.

A lot of times I'll be talking to Jerry for a while and he's just staring at me with an amused look on his face. I'll finally ask him why he's looking at me like that. And he laughs and tells me that I'm talking a mile a minute and where on earth are all these thoughts and ideas coming from?

I also get very excited about all sorts of new projects and plans. I make lists of all sorts of things--as fast as I can write them. I come up with lots of plans and ideas (and sometimes I actually do them). 

In that sense, hypomania can be kind of fun. If it didn't involve all the other stuff I mentioned, I'd really enjoy it, actually. But the anxiety and the hypersensitivity cancel it out.

I'm on medication to manage bipolar symptoms and the meds actually do work wonders. Having episodes of both hypomania and depression are pretty much inevitable, though. The medication makes the episodes milder and much less frequent, but they do happen. Sometimes an increase or decrease in the dosage of my medication helps, but usually I just ride it out. 

Another big benefit to the medication is that I recognize what is happening now and I can also control my reactions. The noises, for example--when I'm trying to concentrate but the noises are totally overwhelming, I don't overreact and take it out on other people. I just deal with it silently, knowing that it will go away eventually. Before medication, I most definitely did not stay calm. 

Before my diagnosis and medication, my hypomanic episodes would last for months; then they were followed by depression, which lasted just as long (if not longer).

Now, though, the episodes usually last less than a couple of weeks. I can't wait for my irritability to go away! It would be nice if I could keep my excessive motivation and energy, though ;)

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