How do you explain
Butterflies in your tummy?
Or how you just know
That it’s all going to be ok?
How do you accept an unexpected
loss which shatters your soul?
Why didn’t you know?
How do you explain
Butterflies in your tummy?
Or how you just know
That it’s all going to be ok?
How do you accept an unexpected
loss which shatters your soul?
Why didn’t you know?
The title of this post references one of my favorite pieces of writing, The Desiderata. No one can confirm or deny the author and date of publication, but I don’t think that I would have it differently regardless of those details.
I have not heeded it’s simple words.
I am not gentle with myself. I am cruel, degrading and relentless in my mind to myself.
True story: I received a compliment from a retail worker. (She claims that I always wear the cutest tops.). I was in a gourmet cupcake shoppe. I smiled at her, thanked her, and then in the same tone of voice -calm, quiet, sweet, and said “I hate myself actually, mostly my body. I shop for tops all of the time. My arms are the worst. So I try to only get 3/4 length sleeves…
It took a few more moments of drivel before I noticed her again. I had gone inside myself and starting pointing to various areas of imperfection; kind of like a flight attendant pointing out emergency exits.
Back to reality. She was still there and I was honestly surprised that she hadn’t moved on to another customer. I didn’t say all of that to garner an unearned second compliment. Which is good because I think she was too surprised with my response, she didn’t know what to say. I smiled, lowered my head to acknowledge that days’ blouse.
I apologized for the commentary and reached for my cupcake. Which, by the way, I had lost interest in. It was only going to make things worse.
(Why is this blue?)
See what I mean about failing to be gentle with myself? I’m pretty sure that I had offended her and quickly added that to my self degradation list. (Loser, quit offending nice people).
I don’t have some awful sin to atone. I just said what I was thinking and am always thinking. I have to be more careful in the future with this type of situation. I would rather fix my response than use that energy on accepting myself. Oh the irony.
Does everyone else do this too? You know, hate themselves 24/7? Is there a brain cell that allows this? Is it a depression thing? How about female? Maybe a need for perfection sets me off.
Today I was trying to laminate a card with packaging tape so that I could hang it up somewhere… I wanted it to be in it’s original state for as long as possible. But the stupid tape wasn’t very cooperative. Here I am, trying to get control of the tape and it sticks to the card all weird. Bubbles, creases, imperfect lines which show overlapping. I could just kick myself. The oh-so precious card wasn’t perfect anymore. I had screwed that up too. Upon closer inspection I noticed that there is black dog hair stuck too. Check it out…
Curious about the front of the card? I mean, it mattered so much that I was trying to preserve it…
See? I told you I messed it up. Again with irony. (*sigh)
Creases and tears in the tape. It will never be perfect now. Which is okay -for a card, right?
The skies are blue with white clouds, the wind is in the tops of the trees, and the scent of freshly mowed grass floats through the air.
I can be found outside to absorb Vitamin D more often. I often go for drives in my 1999 Mazda Miata (top down, radio up.) singing my heart out. I can enjoy the scenery when I take my dogs on walks. I could go for bike rides with my husband. I could follow through with plans or have a summer job for extra money. But I’m not doing any of these things. I can hope that all of this will play out next summer or the summer after that. I will be ok, just not today.
I am spending this summer filling out forms. Forms? Yes, forms. Being in my condition, I have a lot to “prove” to people, I guess. I have forms for Student Loans, Social Security, Insurance Companies, Appointments to keep from each groups’ Independent Medical Reviews. My years worth of forms is not helping to remove my carbon footprint.
So if you get the chance to capture some Vitamin D, walk your dog, drive your convertible and go for bike/ horse rides, do it. Do it for everyone who can’t, right now. Enjoy the outside and stay “form-free”. Don’t pick up a writing utensil or hide behind a screen of any sort. Mind your manners. Eat full-fat ice cream … on a WAFFLE CONE!
Most of all…
Enjoy the Summer of 2017. 👒
I think that I have a friend or two who genuinely care about me and my illnesses. I believe that I have some acquaintances who would be certain to talk to me if we were in the same place, coincidently.
Like this… “It makes planning nearly impossible. Many humans take for granted that they will wake up feeling “normal”, go to work, go see friends, go to their child’s sports game – same as always. 🌅👩🏻🏫👩🏼⚕️👨🏼💻👩🏻🏫👩🎤👮🏻👯♂️
For someone battling a chronic illness, you just don’t know. Instead of “planning”, it’s more like “hoping”. You “hope” you wake up feeling ok, you “hope” you can make it through work, you “hope” you can make it through your child’s play…..and each event takes its toll on your energy and health.
She goes on to write, “It is not because you no longer care or because the event is not important to you or the person is not important to you. You are missing out because your body has given out.
In fact, your body may be 4 or 5 events PAST too many by the time you just give out. It’s like driving a car that is running out of gas….you lasted on fumes, but finally despite all your efforts, the fumes have run out. The gas pedal is all the way to the floor, but she’s not going any further.”
My doctor had requested some blood work from me…, which, upon return, explained a plethora of my health problems. She was speaking another language (Greek? Latin? Dr. Speak?), regardless I needed Google. And here I am. 🌎.
Meghan O’Rourke has an essay called “I had Autoimmune Disease and then it had me.” It was printed in The New Yorker Magazine, Aug. 26, 2013. It came up in a Google Search for Hypothyroidism. She was speaking my language.
💩. I don’t even like me when I’m on fumes. 👺
Millennials are the demographic cohort following Generation X. There are no precise dates for when this cohort starts or ends; demographers and researchers typically use the early 1980s as starting … Wikipedia
I am writing this because I am worried about my two nieces and one nephew the Millenniums whom I love so much.
All three are very intelligent 🤓 (their school report cards can vouch for this). I’m not just being a “Helicopter Aunt.” They each have some very cool hobbies: Baseball, Volleyball, Cooking, and Computer games. Their parents are very supportive of the kids, and are happily married (since 1998).
They have unique friends and seem to be a sort of “renaissance” childhood plus adolescence. I am so happy when I get the chance to see them 😊.
They have been around the world, Paris, China, Hawaii, South America, Alaska, Washington DC, Florida, you name it, they’ve been there. Their parents believe that the kids need to see the world and really understand history (as opposed to an outdated textbook).
The one thing that is a very different for this Millennial Generation is community. It seems that they may have 400+ “friends” online, but how many do they really know? Everything is online. College, Loan requests, Dating, Music, Games, Notifications, Arguments, Banking, etc. Everyone feels safer to say whatever or be disrespectful behind their computer monitors or cellphones or ear buds. Right?
What are my nieces and nephew really going to do if “the grid” goes down? What am I going to do? Hmmmm. Or if they meet and fall in love with someone they met via the latest dating app, only to find out that the person behind the profile is not who they pretend to be? What is in the future for my darlings? Will emotional cheating become a part of trust issues? This even happens now! The two individuals/profiles have never met, they just had a “friend” online and it’s none of your business as to what is discussed? Sometimes it really is nothing, but there is always a special person that you can pour your heart out to. Remember You’ve Got Mail (Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan?). Bookstore brawl… Granted it’s not a recent film, yet it is relevant to make my point.
It’s been said that four out of ten marriages end up in divorce because of Social Media. (Sirius/XM Satellite Radio).
One out of 10 sex offenders use online dating to meet other people.
Women are afraid of meeting a serial killer. It’s OK ’cause only about 3% of online dating men are psychopaths!
A study found that men who reported incomes higher than $250,000 received 156% more email than those with $50,000. That’s 156% more golddiggers, guys, so think twice about whether you want to post that kind of personal info.
On free dating sites, at least 10% of new accounts are from scammers, says Marketdata Enterprise, Inc. Catfish, anyone?
In 2005 alone, 25% percent of rapists used online dating sites to find their victims. Let me repeat that: twenty-five percent of rapists used online dating sites to find their victims.
A matchmaking service in Denver, Colorado says that 51% percent of online dating singles are already in a relationship, yet are putting themselves out there as being single.
A third of those surveyed said “They falsified their information so much that it prevented them from getting a second date.”
In 2011 alone, the FBI Internet Crime Complaint Center lodged 5,600 complaints from victims of “romance scammers” with collective losses of over fifty million dollars.
Each year internet predators commit more than 16,000 abductions, 100 murders and thousands of rapes, according to InternetPredatorStatistics.com.
I understand that this generation will have highs and lows that my generation can’t foresee. As I am certain that the Baby Boomers felt about GenX and had no idea that the computer would change the world and how we manage things when everyone is a winner.
“The Millennial generation is the largest in US history and as they reach their prime working and spending years, their impact on the economy is going to be huge.
Millennials have come of age during a time of technological change, globalization and economic disruption. That’s given them a different set of behaviors and experiences than their parents.
They have been slower to marry and move out on their own, and have shown different attitudes to ownership that have helped spawn what’s being called a “sharing economy.”
They’re also the first generation of digital natives, and their affinity for technology helps shape how they shop. They are used to instant access to price comparisons, product information and peer reviews.
Finally, they are dedicated to wellness, devoting time and money to exercising and eating right. Their active lifestyle influences trends in everything from food and drink to fashion.
These are just some of the trends that will shape the new Millennial economy.”
With all that they will be up against in their future, I just hope that my millennial family members know how much I love them.
I am really weird about food. Onion slices are ALWAYS next to Tomato slices in restaurants. The Onions ruin everything. It is so frustrating! I have felt the same way about pickles, jalapenos, peppers, etc.
Given that I am from Arizona, I don’t know why or how this happened -Mexican food was, well, awful -in my opinion. I loved the fresh chips and a very plain Chicken Chimichanga. But nothing could be on or near my plate. That made it a dry rectangle on a dessert plate. It’s supposed to be covered in a “Sauce” and Salsa with rice and beans as well as some little salad (onions included). I was the only person in the world of the Southwest who preferred Jamba Juice, Starbucks and mall food to honest-to-goodness real Mexican food..
So, moving to Michigan was a great thing for me. Potatoes, Berries, Steaks, Soups, great pizzas, Farmers Markets, oh my! Although I’m not a fan of the pickled eggs, bologna and of course, pickles.
I went through Jamba, Mall and Starbucks withdrawal. I was miserable to be around. My husband took me to the “Mall” north of the house and I cried. It wasn’t a mall! It hade three or five shops and no food.
What was I going to do here? Mashed potatoes come to mama!
Growing up, I wouldn’t eat a pickle. Dill, sweet, relish, whatever else was up to my co-lunch mate. My sister would get them off my McDonald’s burgers and pretty much everything else that had a pickle served was fair game.
I went to a pot luck luncheon recently and someone had made/brought these weird looking ham wraps of cream cheese and a dill spear. After much coercion from my friends, i said that I would try one.
I. LOVE. THEM.
Then all of a sudden I started to crave dill pickle spears. ?!
I mean really crave. I still don’t know what happened. I hated anything pickled and Mexican food; and then all of a sudden I’m eating Dill Pickles daily. At least they aren’t expensive. What’s going to happen next? Peppers on my pizza?
My husband and I attended the MSU presentation (we owned a pet store and the presentation was a customer service reminder) of “Give ’em the pickle!”
I was entranced. I found the website which the presenters got their information. Little did I know that there is a link between pickles and customer service. WHAT?!
“The idea of giving pickles away comes from a letter I received from a disappointed customer who was visiting the first store we opened.” (Bob Ferrell)
“The pickle philosophy has evolved from there as it’s been put into practice at various businesses. It may be about going the extra mile to make customers happy or putting your own personal stamp on customer service that sets you apart from your competition. (And I just gave it away.)
At my favorite tire store they literally run to greet me when I step out of my car in the parking lot. I’ve met garbage collectors who stop to start lawn mowers and coffee baristas who add a heart or other designs in the latte foam. Those are all pickles. What are yours?”
It may seem like an odd metaphor for customer service. I feel bad about not recognizing the intentional customer service.
Weird. Right? Now I understand why pickles are served with entrées.
I don’t know what triggered my love for dill pickles. I am a fan.
By the way, I’m not pregnant. I simply want to know why I love the stupid pickle -all of a sudden. Is it a body mineral thing? Potassium? Vinegar? Brine?
Maybe my taste buds are changing as I age. What a pickle!
(Edited to reflect the life that my husband and I are currently experiencing.)
For me, hypothyroidism has been a cruel illness to live with, especially with all its horrible symptoms. Hypothyroidism can be hard on a marriage.
However, if you add divorce and/or maybe job loss to that, it makes it even worse – I have met a lot of people in that situation.
From the Husband’s Point-of-View:
And there is no doubt that hypothyroidism can be hard on a marriage. As a husband, you will probably hear about this illness a lot because it affects all aspects of your life and that of your wife.
Besides, you might already be a little tired of listening to her complaints, not to mention that it might not always be interesting talking about the disease.
But don’t give up just yet, as there is hope if and when she gets the right treatment.
Let me describe some of my experiences in living with a thyroid patient.
She was sick for years before she was diagnosed. She was the “hypochondriac of her family”, at least that’s what she was told.
As years went by, more and more symptoms became known. Not only did she gain weight, she was also sleeping a lot.
But at the time, I didn’t know that she was actually ill – I just thought it was all part and parcel of getting older.
But she, herself, was convinced that something was wrong with her. Finally, she was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and was told that she needed medicine for the rest of her life, that she would feel well again, and that her symptoms would eventually disappear. Sadly they did not.
I didn’t really realize she was sick – I was busy.
Sure, I knew she was diagnosed and prescribed a pill -sick. But I also knew that since she was on medication, she should be alright, and so I stayed busy.
I was too busy and caught up with trying to manage both my job and almost all the housework at home like doing the dishes, preparing dinner, doing the laundry, cleaning, – all at the same time. I was too busy to really be conscious of my wife’s illness.
😴 She was sleeping all day
Of course, when I had the time I sometimes wondered why my wife was always sleeping when she came home from work. Sometimes she would sleep until the next day when she had to go to work again.
I wondered why she suddenly seemed to have problems with her employer**– she used to be a highly valued employee who was entrusted with a lot of responsibility. She used to argue with her Boss when he tried to interfere with her work – and more often than not she’d get her way. But suddenly, all her spirit was gone.
🤔 She forgot everything
I used to wonder why she kept forgetting everything – all the time: purse, credit card, cell phone, shopping list, where she was, and where she was going.
She gained weight, even though she was always following a serious diet. I couldn’t understand why.
However, I did not really think much of it. Maybe it was only natural. It didn’t matter to me. I was warned about Menopause. For all I knew, this could be Menopause.
😷 She was seeing doctors all the time.
In all this, she saw her doctor quite often and later some endocrinologist – I honestly don’t remember the details. She would often complain to me about her weight gain and about her troubles with getting back in shape. She could hardly walk, even up short stairs, without taking a break to breathe.
I listened but I didn’t really quite understand. And of course, sometimes I got a little tired of talking about the disease. I just hoped the doctors would help her. However, they kept leaving the physical office or profession altogether, thus a lot of time was spent on “new” lab work, or another referral. And life went on – daily life that is.
🤗 I got my wife back! Or so I assumed.
One day she told me she had found a new doctor (again!), and that she wanted to give it another try. He apparently gave her another kind of medicine – I didn’t really understand, at the time, the difference. I was busy.
🤓. Finally I understood
It was when I also came to realize how terrible she had been treated by her doctors, and how little, (people including me and many a doctor), had understood hypothyroidism.
🐘. I became her memory
What can you do?
How can you help your hypothyroid wife (or husband, relative)?
****That really depends on whether s/he is well treated or still struggling just to get diagnosed or find the right dose or treatment. We are still struggling with different doses and triggers (food, allergies, spices, scents, texture and cravings) that knock her out. 🤷🏼♀️
Brande is still struggling with the symptoms and/or finding the right treatment, there are many things that have be recommended to me:
You will probably be the first to notice.
🌏. Life can become normal again.
When your wife is well treated, she probably will not need that much support anymore on account of her illness, except for making sure that she does take her medication which you might need to remind her.
Also, she might need your help to explain her illness to other people. Hypothyroidism is a trivialized illness and very few know anything about the consequences and extent of the disease.
😐. Accept that hypothyroidism will be part of your lives.
😳. For the full article and hyperlink to other helpful sources please refer to:
Can I just say, how lovely Sunday the 22nd of April was? The sun was out, the temperatures were in the 60-70 range. There was even a light wind in the tops of the trees… ahhhhhhh. My intuition whispered, “Go for a walk.” My mom said -in her mom voice, “I am going to go with or without you.”
It is Morel Season, a walk outside might just render some delicious Morels. I made sure to wear a bright pink top, mud boots and tea tree oil (bugs hate it). My mom and I made the usual rounds up, next to my house then we went into the woods.
“You want morels, and I can help. No, I can’t reveal my secret locations… not necessarily because I’m selfish (well, maybe partly), but because it wouldn’t be fun for you. Morel mushroom hunting is adventurous. It’s thrilling, and it’s incredibly rewarding! If you’ve ever found any on your own, you know exactly what I mean.”
She didn’t find anything, but I did (golf ball). We just kept walking around, heads down, eyes peeled for the elusive mushroom. She managed to wiggle herself through brush almost taller than her and called for me, “Brande! You have got to see this!”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll keep looking under the trees.”
“I found a skeleton!”
“It’s totally cool though…. it has human teeth!”
I stared at it, there were so many bones! The head, legs, ribs, spine, mandibles and we were so excited! We dug up as much as we could. Tissue free, yet marrow full; it was weighing down our Morel bucket.
Well since I’m “Bones,” I was getting all scienc-eeee and tried naming them…. come on 7th Grade Science, don’t fail me now…. “Ooooh that’s a rib! Or that’s back tooth… ere go; I carried on with my Latin -Physician wanna-be tone.”
We decided that these bones would be way more fun than mushrooms, and walked back to the house. We talked about our bones, potential murder (car hit? Bow? Rifle? Coyote lunch?). and what we were planning to do with/about them. For instance, what will my husband say? Hmmmmm. (Poor guy. It’s a good thing my mom moved in to help take care of us.)
Upon returning, we started to lay the bones on my deck and try to put them together. When we realized that there were a lot of leg bones we tried to decide not only where they went but what they were called. We got to the largest leg bone. My mom said “fibula or humurus” and I said “Thigh bone”. We bickered over this for quite awhile.
We continued “playing” with the bones for awhile and then went inside. My husband asked if we found any mushrooms… “What’s for dinner then?” Great question.
No reason to
Yell “Booooooooo!” to all
That you do.
I know that today is
Going to be harsh.
My nerves are going crazy.
I’m on the edge
And there’s nothing hazy
So I apologize for
The clip in my tone,
The flip of my phone,
As I fling it across our home.
This is the best
and most you will get
From me right now.
Yesterday’s physical assault
from my own body
As well as the day before
Should have warned me
that more is coming.
So I will bite my tongue
Before I regret what I
Will forget that I said
When I let my mind off it’s rung.
I was born and raised in the Valley of the Sun (Phoenix, AZ). I was never able or willing to appreciate Arizona. It was too hot and brown. Some say that one can fry an egg on a si…
Source: Big Things Become Little Things