Ever see that SNL skit w/Phil Hartman as the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer? Well, at the conclusion of this week's knit night, one of my friends noted I was wearing jeans, and how she doesn't think she's ever seen me in jeans. I commented how they are my milestone jeans. They are a size 14 (and really a bit loose on me). Size 14 being the smallest size The Avenue carries. I quipped about how should I go down one more size, I'll have to buy my clothes from a conventional size store. "Oh, is The Limited still in business?" Truly, I lost interest in the store when Bush Senior was president, when my weight started LEAPING, NOT CREEPING, but LEAPING from one size to the next. "I don't know what it's like to buy clothing in a store that doesn't cater to large sized folks. It's been so long. I think I'll feel like that Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer... your world is all so weird and unfamiliar to me."
Another interesting milestone: the size "large" belt which I bought a while ago (a few months back) now finally fits. I can secure it on the first hole without it feeling like a tourniquet. Yay me.
Now if only I could FEEL better.
I am having motivational issues just to do anything, even simple, mundane shit like showering daily and getting dressed and out of the house, even for things which I know will make me feel better, and yet... the over-riding desire to nap sometimes wins out even the best argument that my conscious self can make to this other side of my personality, which I'll refer to as the hermit. The hermit just wants to do just that, be a hermit, avoid contact with other people.
I had an actual dialogue today, both sides or both personalities, were talking to one another today. Not sure if this is a mental break, or if it's just an exercise I needed to do to further motivate myself to get my rear in gear and out of the house (which I eventually DID), but the dialogue went like this:
Personality 1: You know you need that deep tissue massage. You'll feel better. Tomorrow you have a long drive and won't have a chance to do this, and it'll be another week before you can do this, another week before you feel better.
Personality 2: I don't want to feel better. I don't want to feel anything at all. I just want to die.
And of course, this was capped off with me getting weepy. Hard to feel like doing anything when you feel dizzy and feel like shit, yanno? Hard to break out of that cycle of you're in pain, and it depresses you, and then the depression makes you feel even MORE physically shitty, etc etc, to the point where you're shaky and miserable, and just want to curl up into a ball and sob.
But I got dressed and out of the house. Did something proactively to make myself feel better. Went for that massage. I felt like the masseuse was helping me on a molecular level. I know for a fact that if I were to go to my old Reiki practitioner, I'd be in tears by the end of the session. Wish I had her name and #, but lost those details several years back, and the only person who could have offered help, the woman who ran the local yoga clinic where I met the aforementioned reiki master refused to pass the information along to me (apparently they had some kind of falling out). Karma's a bitch, and the economy in the shitter the way it's been for nearly ten years, well, that yoga studio went belly up about 2-3 years back. You get what you give, I suppose.
Tomorrow I make a trip to Jersey for a class to learn the finer points of a technique I know "some" details of, and even know some advanced details of, but little simple basics I could benefit from an actual class. I've already paid for this class, so I'm hoping that's motivation enough for me to not bail out and flake out and be out $65 for the cost of the class. On an upnote, the class is held at a shop in the same town as one of my fave Thai restaurants, so I can't wait. And a friend I originally made plans with to have lunch after the class is under the weather, so she already bailed out on the lunch; so I might just sit and enjoy lunch in solitude, and pick up take out for the husband and might possibly make it home by 4 or 5 the earliest and salvage a bit of the day with him, as he should be up from his afternoon nap by then.
Been taking Feosol iron for about a week... not quite. But "about." Not sure if it's making a difference yet. Folks reading this blog can have hope enough for me, because I have none. At this point, I'm just on autopilot, taking meds, taking vitamins, doing what the doctors say I need to do, and abandoning expectation that any of it will make a difference. Because I am compliant as a post-opper, but even that's not enough, I suppose.
Appointment has been set for me to follow up with a neurologist re: the migraine. That's next Friday. Then my usual 3 month appt w/the endocrinologist is little more than a week later or so.
I cannot wait for my 44th year to start (in August), as my 43rd year has been one fraught with bullshitty health stuff. Gah.
Time to take my calcium, have some coffee, and call it a night.
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