Friday, September 27, 2013

Sometimes you have to ask.

So I have solved the three issues in my previous post. The woman whose class I wanted to take is offering an on-line class that I got on special for 9.99! I have taken these on-line classes before (Craftsy) and they are very good, and in-depth, and I can go back to them whenever I want. So that is good.
Then I talked to the choir director and found out I can join for the 'faculty' price of $50.00.
Then I saw the organizer of the conference and she told me to just pay what I could because she was delighted I wanted to come and participate.
Wow! I just had to ask.
I just had to ask.

I also learned today that I just have to be honest about who I am and what my challenges are. A woman I have known for a few years was surprised to learn that I suffer from depression. It is not something I share very often to anyone but close friends and family. I don't think that serves me well. The love and support I got today was, well, very supportive, and loving and helpful.

My sister reminded me that she and I had made a promise. To tell each other the truth about what was going on with our health as we journey this life together.

I forgot that promise.

She reminded me.

I hope to not break that promise again.

So the lesson for this week. Sometimes you have to ask. Sometimes you have to tell.

Always you have to trust that the support you need is there.

But you have to reach out.

You have to ask.

Friday, September 20, 2013

Two hundred dollars

I am retired. I don't have a pension and won't qualify for CPP for two more years. Enough said. In the past few days I have seen some things I want to do: join a choir ($200), take a knitting class ($130), attend a conference($200). Hmph. I keep hoping the school will call and need a sub for a few days. That would cover it.

I have spent a lot of money in the last six weeks on physio, naturopath, chiropractor. I am glad that I am able to do this. I have almost complete use of my arm. Probably 90%. My back is still sore as heck, but I am sure that it too will get better. Eventually.

But still, this two hundred dollar amount keeps raising its head. I could put an ad in the school newsletter about tutoring. I could cancel my cable which would save probably 60 bucks a month. I am fortunate that this is the worst of my problems.

The world and media keep reminding me that I am one of the lucky ones.

So, I am going to stop whining now, and count my blessings. They are so many.

God will provide. I truly believe this. And I believe in angels.

Monday, September 16, 2013

What a broken arm really means

Ok. I broke my arm this summer. It was suppose to be our big adventure: three months in our camper to the Yukon and Alaska. One month in I fell from the top step of the camper. This is probably a four foot drop. I landed on the point of my left shoulder and I heard a horrible crack. I will spare you the further details.

A month later we arrived home and I began the round of doctor, physio, naturopath and chiropractor appointments to begin to put my self back together again. (Think Humpty Dumpty minus the king's horses and men).

One person told me that a broken arm means that I need to look at my life at see what I need to 'break' with. Another told me that breaking a bone makes it easier to work with the spiritual world. Yet another told me that I broke my arm because I am not able to ask for support and help. Really? On top of trying to heal my arm and back and knee on a physical level, clearly there is some healing needed on the spiritual/emotional/destiny level.

Here is what I learned this summer:

Shit happens. It doesn't matter if you are a good person, or a bad person. Sometimes shit happens.

My son and husband were the best people I could have been with. Far from a hospital, and scared and in pain they took charge and calmly got me where I needed to be. They were angels. Clearly my guardian angel was somewhat distracted at the moment I started to fall, but quickly got back on the job and with help.

When I was totally drugged up on pain medication I had overwhelming feelings of love for my husband. That can't be a bad thing after 37 years.

I don't need as much sleep as I think I do. Sleeping is very uncomfortable and yet when I finally get up in the morning after another restless night I can manage quite well.

There is a silver lining in dark clouds: longer than planned visit with our son, three week visit with our daughter once I got home.

I have really good friends.

Now, something I learned about myself. Well, actually I didn't learn it, but I need to figure out what it is all about. When I fell, after I landed, I kept apologizing. Through the pain, and shock, and fear I kept apologizing for ruining our trip. What the heck is that about?

Maybe once I finish all the physio I need some therapy. Really.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Despite the fog the skies are clearing

Not sure which medication is helping, but I am feeling like the clouds are parting.

Sleep is coming easier, and I am more "up" for doing things. Yesterday was a good day with a trip to the Aquarium and a lovely dinner with my baby brother. He gives the best hugs.

Today I am going to make gluten free perogies (which involves cleaning out the pantry first) and that is good too.

It is foggy again today, and thunder is rolling outside and heavy rains have just past over.

Perhaps a metaphor.

Perhaps it is just the weather.

Either way I am going to ride out this storm.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

The first step is admitting you need help

It has not been an easy spring and summer. Well, if truth be told the winter was pretty tough as well. But I soldiered on, because, well, that is what one does. And don't talk about it. Don't air your dirty laundry. That is what I was taught growing up.

So I soldiered on. All the way to Alaska, in fact. But the nausea was there. The anxiety was there. It wasn't as much fun as other camping trips and we had looked forward to this, our first long trip, since before my retirement began.

And then the broken arm.

Well that didn't help things, did it? The myriad of medication, pain, discomfort didn't help at all. But the physio was helping, at least the broken arm part. But the broken spirit? The broken resolve? The lack of initiative? The wanting to stay in bed all day? No the physio wasn't helping that.

So I took the step and went to the doctor. I admitted the sadness and dis-ease. We talked. He suggested a psych consult to discuss different medication. He upped the medication I am currently on. He suggested counselling. He told me that taking this step was important to recovery.

So first steps. After a week I called a counsellor (I have an appointment tomorrow). I talked to my brother - and it was very helpful. I am glad I have him in my life.

I am reaching out, and making plans. Not too many plans because that is too hard, too much, but short little plans are good.

I am taking my vitamins, and trying to drink more water (although that means being up all night peeing). I know. Too much information.

I made two batches of home-made soup. Stupidly I did this on the hottest day possible, but I am happy to have healthy soup to eat.

My nausea seems better today. Fingers crossed. It seems that perhaps one of the drugs I am taking is helping that. I seem to be taking a lot of medications these days: for back pain (they are pink), for nausea (they are blue and oddly shaped), for depression (they are pink and grey), for arm pain (plain old white), to sleep (baby blue). I hate it.

So here I am. Face to face with the first step.

One step at a time.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

September 1

You have been on my mind all day.
I haven't told anyone that all day. I don't know why I keep this day to myself.
I just do.

I felt bad to realize that I always remember this day, but not the day my mother died.
Perhaps it is because you were my first great loss.
There have been many since, but today still reminds me of a seventeen year old girl alone in her basement bedroom woken up by the news that you were gone.
The walk up those stairs that morning seemed long and foreboding.

Like with all deaths, things are never again the same.
It has been 40 years.
So today is for you.

Because it is September 1, and because I love you.

William Donald Burton
January 15, 1924 - September 1, 1973
My Dad.