Euuugh. There's the made up word of the day. That and withdrawling. I just saw someone use that and it struck me as funny. So life sucks right now. I'm not going to sugar coat it. Oh, the expounding I would like to do right now. But sadly my personal issues need to stay tucked in my head, or at least thrown up all over Brent for a while. I need like twelve people in twelve categories to be able to vent to. You go in the category of politics (which would probably be pretty easy because I've been working on my apathy). You, over there, you take religion. You take paranoia and hypochondria. And what do you want? Hormonal induced depression? Or, what am I going to do with my life crisis. Or, what am I doing with my life crisis. And you. You get gluten free bread.
Really it's just one of those funks or fogs or something that will eventually lift and all will be fine-ish again. There was a glimmer of the fog lifting yesterday. There was also this good line in a song I was listening to: "Some guy on the net thinks I suck and he should know, he's got his own blog." Funny. And I almost feel a little better now. Plus Monday I'm going to start working on Project: Holy Crap I'm Going To Be 40 In About Six Months So I've Got To Get It Together in A Good Way Before Then. Yeah, I'll probably go down that sad little path a little.
I truly believe that being happy all the time is overrated. No, you don't want to walk around all the time like you can't get over the disappointment you met in your teenage years but I think it's good to embrace life and all the emotions it brings. With the caveat that you are still a functional human being and able to get done the necessities and not beat your kids or bug the crap out of your husband. (And yes, I may use the words "crap" and "sucks" too often.) But I see people say things like, "I have decided to allow nothing but happiness into my life." Sure happiness is a choice but you can't remove all pain and unpleasantness from your life. Unless, perhaps, you are very shallow and not capable of feeling a range of emotions or doing anything productive with those emotions. This takes nothing away from those who are naturally optimistic. I see them out there. They are a mystery to me but I know they exist. It's kind of like when I was reading this ADHD forum once (when I was convinced I had ADD, not ADHD though. I've never had enough energy to claim ADHD). Some of the people were debating the pros and cons of medication. Some were of the opinion that they did not want to be on medication because it masked their true personality and forced them into a mold that would make them fit in with society, making themselves sort of a shadow of their true self. I think there is definitely a point there. (*Disclaimer, I am in no way qualified to tell someone with ADHD what to do.*) I think those of us who occasionally go to "the dark side" (and I'm not talking about Satan here so relax) should embrace that side (and really, this is everyone at least once in a while). Like I said before, don't embrace it so much that it is all encompassing and you can't function. Also, too much of that can get a bit self involved and narcissistic. Embracing the good and the bad brings about a clarity I think. See, I was feeling quite blah when I started writing this and I already feel better.
Don't get me wrong. I know I have a good life. Got the husband, kids, etc, down in a good way. But sometimes the crazy- it's there. I don't want to feed it too much, but I want it to know he has just as much right to be here as happy and well adjusted do too.
Last night Brent and I watched the movie "New York Doll". It tells the story of Arthur "Killer" Kane who was a guitarist for the punk glam rock band (or something like that), New York Dolls in the 1970s. The band didn't have great success and after, he goes on to have a hard life with drugs and the typical washed up rock star stuff. After a terrible accident that almost kills him he joins the Mormon Church and it portrays his life as a poor, humble Mormon working in the Family History Library by the Los Angeles Temple (I think it's the Los Angeles Temple anyway). It was an interesting, sweet and sad documentary of his life as a Mormon and when he finally gets his shot at reuniting with his old band. One of the best parts was the interview with Morrissey (of the Smith's) in the extras when he calls the hair bands of the '80s basically no talents with no original ideas of their own (I thought it was funny), but I digress. Another interesting part in the extras was the creepy band leader singing the LDS hymn Come Come Ye Saints. He actually does a pretty good job.
So the movie ends and I guess I'm in a music documentary sort of mood so I pop in Gigantic (ATale of Two Johns). A documentary about the musical career of They Might Be Giants. Watching this reminded me of Christmas, 2003. I got this movie for Brent for Christmas in 2003. A few years before that I'd gone to my OBGYN who said after Zoe was born I could come for any old thing, not just baby and woman issues. (Don't listen to you OBGYN if he tells you this. First of all he doesn't really mean it. Second, well just look at the advice he gave me, enough said.) So I got a cholesterol test from him. He told me I had high cholesterol and told me to read the book "Protein Power". This book advised me to return my bread maker I had just got for Christmas, exchange it for a weight bench and start eating tons of protein. Okay, it didn't literally give me that advice, but that is what I took from it. Fortunately, I could never commit to my new meaty lifestyle and I never really got into the weight bench as I prefer DVDs and free weights (it ended up at the D.I. a few years later) but being on the verge of a heart attack was never too far from my mind. So in the early winter of 2003 I noticed my left arm started hurting. I should also mention there was some stress going on in my simple stay at home mom life. I had two girls and a baby boy who was almost one. It was also the year the Iraq war started and I tend to take trouble in the world very seriously. I started having pain in my left arm. I am a certifiable hypochondriac (semi recovered) so you know what pain in the left arm has to mean. I wasn't sleeping well at night. I'd lie there after Brent went to sleep and my heart would start to beat fast and I was afraid to go to sleep, lest I wake up dead. It got worse as the days approached Christmas. On Christmas Eve I remember we went to Brent's Dad's house for the traditional Pre Christmas festivities: scriptures, treats, present opening, etc. The whole way there I felt weird and sick and anxious. I continued to feel worse and worse while we were there. I couldn't eat anything, really. I do remember eating a couple of m&ms, wondering if they could mean my imminent end. We went home, got the kids to bed and anxiously awaiting Santa Claus. We went to bed shortly after that and I soon heard Brent sleeping. Do you know that feeling at night when you're the only one awake and you feel incredibly alone? I felt like that and I kept feeling strange and anxious, my heart beating rapidly. I was pretty sure at that point I'd be dead in the morning. I lay there waiting for the end to come and finally got up. I turned on the Christmas lights and turned on the TV. It was about 2 am and nothing worth watching was on TV. I remember settling on some weird show on PBS about apostate returned missionaries. It was sad and kind of strange. Finally around 4 am I started to relax enough to doze a little and I went back to bed and went to sleep. Around 7 or 7:30 we got up because it was Christmas morning and woke up the kids because Santa had come (maybe while I was dozing on the couch). Strangely, I felt much better but I was dead tired. We didn't have anywhere to go until the evening when we went to Brent's Mom's house for dinner. So I remember lazing around the living room in our pajamas for many hours and while the kids were playing with their new toys we put on Brent's new movie, Gigantic (A Tale of Two Johns). We watched it and I was feeling very tired but relieved I'd lived to spend Christmas day with my husband and kids. I kept having these "episodes". I'd occasionally wake Brent up and tell him I just felt weird. I'd be having heart palpitations and my arm still hurt. He'd humor me for a minute and then go back to sleep. He knows all about my hypochondria. The story neared it's end one night when I woke Brent up, sure I was having a heart attack and made him take me to the E.R. (Crazy!) So we woke up the kids and headed to the hospital. Of course I wasn't having a heart attack. The doctor's only explanation for anything was I had a pinched nerve. I had bought some three inch high heeled boots recently that killed my back whenever I wore them. Remember, I don't wear heels because they bother my back (probably because they force me to stand up straight and there's just too much back length there to regularly do that). This was the climax of my trouble. Having confirmation that I wasn't dying helped me relax some. I think what I was probably experiencing were panic attacks. The most irrational part of it all is I'd just lost 30 lbs. of baby weight and beyond by doing Weight Watchers. I was working out more than I ever could remember. So besides the extra Christmas treats I really wasn't doing anything to bring on a heart attack. I share this story not to make you think I am completely nuts. But because my kids will read this one day when they are adults or even teenagers and see that their mom had challenging times too. I survived and overcame. And maybe this will help someone else out there too. Who knows? Someday maybe I'll tell you about 2001 and the lead up to the year on happy pills (which were awesome to be on when 9/11 came around, by the way.)
