Still Alive and Still Here, Part Two

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I still live in Florida, so we had to evacuate for Hurricane Irma.

Since my last post a lot has happened, a lot of things that make it difficult to focus long enough to write anything I’m willing to post. But I feel like I need to post after a natural disaster hits where I live.

We were lucky, when we got home after Irma we had electricity and internet. My house is fine, we only lost one shingle from the roof and I already know how to fix that. We didn’t get flood water in the house either. The power didn’t go out long enough for any of the food in our fridge to spoil.

My trampoline was destroyed, damaged enough that it would cost more to fix it than to buy a new one. It’s been two weeks and there is still a branch through the jumping mat, mostly because we don’t have a chainsaw and the branch is heavy.

All of my friends and my parents didn’t get power back for nearly a week after the storm. They lost all of the food in their respective fridges, but still, we were all lucky.

 

Updates since last time:

I separated my shoulder and it took a full 8 months to heal. I learned how to apply this stuff called KT Tape after the first two months with my arm in a sling and that allowed me to still get some stuff done without re-injuring my shoulder.

We had to replace our water heater and our refrigerator within a month of each other. That was super fun.

My computer became unusable. It was never that great of a computer and the sales associates I spoke with while shopping for a new one were all surprised it lasted me two whole years. For all I know I may have the only one that is still technically functional.

I waited for the Back-to-School sales and got a very good deal on a new computer, one that I’m fairly certain will meet my needs. I did a lot of research to make sure it was close enough to what I wanted. Honestly, it’s a bit bigger than a I really wanted, but everything else is perfect for my purposes.

I’ve learned the basics of knitting because a disembodied voice in a dream told me I needed to learn to knit. It was more difficult than I expected, but I kept trying and eventually made a scarf. Next, I want to make a hat.

We took a big family trip to see the eclipse in the path of totality and show my kids what real mountains look like. The kids were impressed and are looking forward to going back some day. My parents own a piece of land on the same little mountain as my aunt and uncle, so we have a place to stay in North Carolina.

We were nearly settled in again from that trip when we started packing to evacuate for Irma.

And we’re packing our bags again this week because my in-laws are taking us to Disney World. It will be the first time either of my kids have been to Disney World and the first time I’ve been since I was 18. Even though we are Florida residents and get a discount for that, it was just never in the budget.

Through all of that I’ve kept running without taking a break longer than a week. That does mean I ran with my arm in a sling for awhile, but it’s been worth it. I love the story in Zombies, Run! and running helps with my anxiety.

 

I would really like to get back to blogging again. I can’t make any promises, but I haven’t given up and I haven’t abandoned my blog. Life just sort of got in the way.

I just wanted to let anyone still reading this know that I am still alive and I am still here.

 

Prismatic Corvus

Still Alive and Still Here

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It’s been a long year, a trying year, a year that’s not over yet.

I haven’t been writing or posting, I’ve barely been reading. 2016 has just been too much.

I could go through a list of all the things that have happened preventing me from having any time to write, but it would be long and probably boring.

We made it through hurricane Matthew. We evacuated and when we came home I cried, not because we’d lost everything but because we hadn’t lost anything more than a fence and a few trees we didn’t want anyway. I even found my lizard. She’s a wild lizard I’ve been friends with since spring and I didn’t really expect her to make it. You may be wondering how I know she’s the same lizard. She was injured in May and it left permanent damage in the form of a discoloration to her middle.

We live on the east coast of Florida. The last time we evacuated for a hurricane was in 1999, two days after my older son was born.

I really don’t know what to write about, I could go in so many directions.

I haven’t been able to rest all year. As soon as I think things are going to calm down something else happens. Two people I knew when I was a teenager have died this year, one of my husband’s aunts whom I only met this year died only a few weeks after I met her, a friend of a friend committed suicide. Too much death this year.

Not being able to write is about more than just time though, it’s also about the ability to concentrate and organize my thoughts. I haven’t been able to concentrate either.

I have made a few positive changes this year, probably to combat how crazy everything has been. In April I started running and drinking more water. I’ve never been the sort of person to even walk for exercise or drink much water. So I’ve been surprised. I didn’t know running was so good for me.

Running helps with my anxiety, but I don’t know if that’s from the exercise or the story in the app I use for running. I love stories and this app has a great story that just sucks me in. Honestly, even knowing how good running is for me overall, I wouldn’t keep running without this app. When I run I’m not me, I’m Runner 5 of Able Township during a zombie apocalypse. The app is called Zombies, Run! and it’s a lot of fun.

Anyway, I’m going to try to get back to writing and blogging again. I have no intention of giving up any time soon, things have just been really crazy this year. NaNoWriMo is coming and I intend to participate. I guess I just wanted to let everyone know I’m still alive and still here and not abandoning my blog.

 

Prismatic Corvus

The Day Can Only Improve

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Today is my birthday. I’ve tried to write posts the last few years, but I don’t usually like to draw attention to myself on my birthday. I know I haven’t posted in a long time, another week and it’ll be three months. I experienced something I like to call a cascade. I became overwhelmed in December, which led to sensory overload in January, I have trouble eating enough during sensory overload, so I’ve been sick. But I think I’m coming out of my cascade.

And today has been strange enough that it deserves a blog post.

I got up around 9 and my kids were already awake and on the computer. Birthdays are holidays in my home school, so no school work for them today. My older son glanced up at me.

“Happy Birthday, Mommy.” He looked back at the computer. “Felix (cat) peed in the bathtub. I tried to clean it up, but it still stinks.”

How do you even react to that? It’s not like this is a regular occurrence. It’s only the 2nd non-bath-related time it’s happened in the history of my personal cat ownership experience. I sprayed it down with a cleaning product made for pet odors and decided to deal with it later — or let someone else deal with it later.

I figured the day can only improve.

Over the course of my morning adventures I helped a AAA guy push a car out of an intersection, he had the look of someone who really wished someone would stop and help. Despite my small stature and delicate frame I’m very good at pushing a car — it’s all about technique. I’m inclined to stop and help when I know I can, so I did. Together we quickly got the car out of the road and into a parking spot. He thanked me and I went on my way.

Not long after my mom and I were stopped at a red light and an older gentleman stopped next to us motioned for me to roll down my window. I did. He smiled at me.

“Pardon me, madam,” he said, “but do you have any Grey Poupon?”

I did not, not anymore, but this really made my day. I’ve been waiting twenty years for this. There was a commercial, or maybe a series of commercials, where two posh cars pull up to a stop sign and someone in one car asks the person in the other car for Grey Poupon. When I was sixteen I discovered little plastic packets of Grey Poupon and because of the commercial I kept several of them in my backpack, waiting for the day someone would ask. I had Grey Poupon in my backpack for four years in anticipation of this moment. I only stopped when I had to trade my backpack in for a diaper bag.

I had to admit that I no longer carry Grey Poupon on my person. He smiled, apparently pleased I caught the reference and asked the occasion for my fancy dress. This is what he was asking about:

Birthday HatMy fleece Gir hat with my birthday headband. I look better in it than a Styrofoam head does, but I’m not putting my face on my blog. So this older gentleman called my super silly headgear fancy dress, I don’t know this guy but I like his sense of humor. I told him today is my birthday and he wished me a happy birthday. I thanked him and that concluded our interaction.

It’s amazing the difference just a couple of minutes of interaction can make in your day. Thank you, random guy at a stoplight, you really made my day.

Midday at my parents’ house. My dad asked if I’m old now. I shrugged.

“You’re halfway to 72, so you’re officially middle-aged.”

Yay! I made it to middle-aged! I don’t feel middle-aged and I have no idea how to act my age, so I suppose this is a reason to celebrate.

My mom sang “Happy Birthday” to me, my dad punctuated each line with a belch by accident — which is even better than if he knew how to belch on purpose. It seems small and childish, but it made me laugh.

For those of you who didn’t bother to do the math, I’m 36 today.

Soon my sister will be here to take me out to dinner and I’m totally still wearing my hat and headband. It’s a good thing my sister has known me long enough to not be embarrassed by me.

I’ve no idea how to wrap up this post, so here’s a link to a video of a song I listen to every year on my birthday. I find it thought provoking.

 

Prismatic Corvus

Flaming Palm Tree and Unnatural Flooding

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One of those weeks, I guess.

And I’m attempting to write this post with a Band-aid on my finger tip – an actual Band-aid brand finger tip bandage. I seem to have a cut on the tip of my finger, though I have no idea when or how it happened.

Friday was my dad’s birthday. As is our tradition for birthdays, my mom came to pick us up to sing and eat cake at my parents’ house. Seems like fun, usually it’s fun. We go outside to wait for my mom only to see the palm tree in front of my neighbor’s house is on fire. Just one frond, but it was very windy yesterday so one frond was scarier than it would usually be.

Usually. That word makes it sound like the palm tree burning is a normal thing. It sort of is, when the city planted the palm tree they didn’t consider how tall it might one day become. It catches fire because it touches the top electric wire between the poles – the one with the highest voltage. Until Friday evening we always noticed it at Strange Zappy Sound stage instead of Actually On Fire stage and called our local power company.

My neighbors weren’t home, their house was dark and no one answered when we knocked on the door.

Do I call the power company or do I call emergency services?

The fire went out, making my decision for me. I called the power company. These people are good, they usually have someone out in less than twenty minutes for a branch of any sort touching the power lines in a fire hazard sort of way.

My dad asked if I got a picture.

My first thought when I see something on fire is not to take a picture of it, but to call someone who knows how to deal with it. I suppose that’s why I don’t have any pictures of anything on fire.

After the guy from the power company left I checked the tree – just to be sure the wind wasn’t blowing other fronds over to catch fire as well. Everything was fine on that front, but as I walked to my door I noticed something reflective in my yard on the other side of my house. I wondered what was catching the light, but I didn’t go check. It could wait until morning.

Saturday morning I put my boots on because I remember my other neighbor being concerned about the small puddle in her front yard a few days before. Boots are good when you may be dealing with water. So much water. What was a small trickle a few days before looks more like a faucet set into the ground now, water pushing up and running down. I learned today that my yard is lower than her yard. Never really had much reason to think about it before. Her water main broke and my yard flooded.

I alerted her to the problem.

I spent several hours of my Saturday digging a trench from my side yard to the drainage ditch which runs behind my yard because even though my lovely neighbor managed to get the water shut off at the box (several hours after I alerted her to the problem) she can’t get the main fixed right now so she turns the water back on when she wants to use it.

You could argue that perhaps it should have been my brother or my husband digging the trench, they both live here and are both capable of wielding a shovel. My anxiety says I must do it myself. There is a problem over which I have little control, but there is hard physical labor I can do to improve things. I must do the things or my anxiety will eat me. I don’t enjoy panic attacks, so I dug the trench myself.

I’ll have to work on the trench some more after I sleep. I have no idea when my neighbor will manage to get this water main thing fixed, but I do know it’s going to gush every time she wants to take a shower or do some laundry. The flooding will continue so the trench must be dug well enough to keep up. Sigh.

Silver linings: I didn’t have to dig in the rain. I live in Florida, so it’s only kind of cold outside instead of freezing. It is cold enough outside to slow the mosquitoes. The power company is finally going to consider removing that palm tree. Also, I won NaNoWriMo and celebrated my tenth wedding anniversary.

I think I need to sleep now.

 

Prismatic Corvus

The Color of Her Voice

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Years ago her voice was a pleasing shade of pink, bright and warm like my fuzzy heart pillows. Her voice bloomed and flowed when she spoke, lightening the air around her.

When she sang her voice changed, red and purple and blue, dancing with the copper of her guitar. Clear colors that filled the room and captured the hearts of those listening. I dyed a guitar shirt to match those colors, I had difficulty with the color of the guitar. Not because it sang copper, but because it was physically dark cherry and I couldn’t decided which color to match. In the end I decided on the color everyone could see for the guitar.

If she ever finds this post, she’ll know she’s the one I’m writing about. That shirt is unique, the only one I’ve ever done in those colors.

Her voice has changed in the last few years. An anxiety filled depression took hold of her after the first few months of not being able to find a job with her fancy (expensive) degree. The difference was subtle at first, a slight changing of pink, the soft edges of her voice began to harden. She could only find commission sales jobs for about two years and her voice became orange, with edges like sandpaper. Anxiety and frustration were mixing with the natural colors and shapes and movements of her voice. There was nothing I could do.

The few times I saw her perform, the colors of her voice told me her heart wasn’t in it, no matter how much she wanted it to be there. The colors were dull and a bit off, even the sound of her guitar seemed tarnished. It broke my heart and I stopped going to her shows.

In February she found the sort of job that pays an hourly wage, has normal hours, and health benefits. Also a cubicle. I hoped for the best, but she’s not the type for a cubicle and office politics. Her voice was still orange, she was doing what she knew she should, as an adult, while she looked for something better suited to her talents and passions.

After some office drama her orange-sandpaper voice began to cut like a plastic butter knife and I began to wonder why I was still subjecting myself to her daily phone calls. I couldn’t tell her how her voice had changed, the drastic difference in my experience of listening to her. But I couldn’t turn away from her, we’ve been friends for so long and I hoped her pink voice was still under the orange I could hear. She needed someone to listen, someone to vent to about the insanity at work, the ridiculousness of it all. And I knew I was the only one she knew with the patience and understanding to listen to it day after day.

Last month she told me the reason she always calls me is because I am the most calming person to talk to, I know what to say and when to say nothing. She called me “the calm center of the universe,” a joke from more than ten years ago now, a joke from when her voice was pink and her singing danced with her guitar.

Why write about this now? Especially when I haven’t told her how her voice has changed?

A few weeks ago she landed a job teaching at a small private school for special education students. It’s the sort of job that is perfect for her and I hoped for the best. I know teaching can be hard in so many ways.

Today is the end of her first week of teaching and she has been calling me every day after school to tell me how her day went. Over the week her voice has changed so much. The journey of her voice from pink and soft to orange and kind of painful took years, but I think the journey back will take a lot less time. Monday her voice was orange-sandpaper, today it was mostly pink and the edges only a little scratchy.

I tried to find something to show the colors of her voice, the closest I could find is a skirt my mom and I dyed. I took a picture of the part which most resembles her voice now.

LWI Fruity

This week I finally have hope for my friend. The colors of her voice show me she’s found hope again too.

 

Prismatic Corvus

Off-Kilter

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The past month has been strange, too much going on to settle my mind and concentrate on much of anything. I’m not going to list all the things, but it was enough that I completely forgot about updating the payment information for our web-hosting provider. For our tie dye business website. I knew in June that it would need to be done before August. I really meant to do it, but so many things happened and it completely slipped my mind – until they called yesterday to tell us our previous card was expired.

As soon as I got off the phone I logged in to my AMP and updated the information and renewed our things. I suppose it’s good we hadn’t actually launched the site yet.

It explained the thrumming orange anxiety in my chest of something important completely forgotten. This is the first time I haven’t been able to concentrate on that feeling and figure out where it’s coming from. I feel much better now. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the knowledge, but I couldn’t get to it. The deadline and the thing attached to said deadline. I’m very glad they called.

But the forgotten thing and it’s deadline were hanging over me, chewing on me every time I tried to sit still, every time I tried to really think. It’s distracting and makes writing nearly impossible. And so many seemingly random things happened which had to be dealt with as well. All with this underlying feeling of something really important that I’ve forgotten.

Now the feeling is gone and I can concentrate on more than just playing video games. In the moments free of other things I had to do, I was playing video games. They can be a great form of distraction when I’m having anxiety about something there is nothing I can do about. The trampoline works too, but it’s been raining almost every day and a wet trampoline is slippery and dangerous. Not to mention the steel frame is a great conductor of electricity, so if we can hear thunder we don’t jump.

Hopefully I can get back to posting regularly. I should be able to concentrate without that weight of forgotten importance over my head.

Tonight I’m going to put a few more hours into the game I recently started. I don’t need it to fend off anxiety anymore, but I do love stories. Dragon Age: Origins is full of stories, two more games to play through afterward are good too. I’ll probably only be playing in small chunks on Wednesday and Friday evenings now that my general anxiety is reduced. Those are the nights my husband plays in regular Magic: The Gathering tournaments. When he is home he usually plays video games while I write in the evenings and at night. I’m sure he’s happy things will be back to normal now.

Sorry I was off-kilter and couldn’t write for so long.

 

Prismatic Corvus

 

Blue Ramblings

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I can’t seem to pull my thoughts together lately and it’s been awhile since I posted anything. So I’m going to write about the color blue.

I was getting ready for my fourth appointment with my psychiatrist when I realized I was about to put on the same shirt I’d worn to the three previous appointments. It’s my anti-anxiety t-shirt. It’s two sizes too big, it’s got my favorite anime character on the front and I dyed it several shades of blue when it was new. I wear it when I don’t feel up to doing whatever I’m about to do. All mental health professionals scare me to some extent, so I wear the shirt to feel calmer and more confident.

I decided I needed to wear something completely different. My psychiatrist had asked if I was feeling depressed at all three of my previous appointments and I was tired of it. It should have occurred to me earlier that my psychiatrist would make a connection like that and an assumption based on that. We have discussed anxiety, we haven’t discussed synethesia or my favorite color. He would have no way of knowing that blue is my happy color, my comfort color, my soothing color.

I wore a rainbow shirt that day, pretty basic for a tie dye artist. Rainbow is my default, when I can’t decide what color or colors I want to wear. My psychiatrist smiled at me and told me I looked like I was doing better. I almost laughed. I was doing precisely the same as the previous time I saw him, the only difference was the shirt I was wearing. I haven’t worn a blue shirt to an appointment with him since then.

This is part of the reason mental health professionals scare me. It seems to be commonly accepted that blue means sad, but sad isn’t blue for me. I was really confused the first time someone asked me why I “looked so blue,” I looked at my clothes (not blue) and asked them what they meant. Everyone seems to think the colors a person wears says a lot about their mental state. This might apply to a lot of people, but it doesn’t apply to me, at least not that way.

When I feel blue, it usually means I feel calm. I seek out anything that’s blue to my synesthesia because those things help fight my anxiety. I have a blanket that feels turquoise, not Crayola turquoise, but Procion fiber reactive dye Turquoise #25. The blanket itself is actually red on the outside and beige on the inside. When I feel bad, either physically or emotionally, I wrap myself in this blanket to feel better.

I knew my husband was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with because he is so blue to me. At the end of our first date he hugged me and I felt such an amazing shade of blue. It’s a difficult shade of blue to describe, it’s like the color of storm clouds in the distance just before the last light leaves the sky at the tail end of twilight. It’s impossible to capture the exact color in paint or color pencil or anything else I’ve tried. Nearly fourteen years later and his hugs still feel that amazing shade of blue.

I think my point is, I married him because of all the shades of blue he makes me feel. Calm blue, safe blue, secure blue, happy blue. All the good blues. He doesn’t make me feel blue the way other people apparently feel blue.

Blue is my favorite color, when someone insisted I choose a favorite color when I was a kid I picked blue because it feels the best and because things that make me feel happy make me feel blue.

Why ramble about blue? Because I hurt my knee and it feels orange. The inside of my left knee has been feeling orange and painful for a couple of weeks. I started writing this post yesterday, today is the first day in two weeks my knee hasn’t felt orange. I didn’t go to the doctor about my knee for two reasons, I was convinced they wouldn’t be able to do anything other than give me pain meds, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell the doctor the pain feels orange.

Why was so much of this post about my psychiatrist? I had an appointment with him today and I started this post yesterday. I always get anxious before my appointment with my psychiatrist because nothing will change my fear of mental health professionals.

I should be able to get back to writing now that my knee isn’t feeling orange.

Prismatic Corvus

Love is Not a Finite Resource

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Heart Tie Dye

I think this is a conversation most parents have with their kids at some point. I had it with my older son when I was pregnant with my younger son, I had it with my younger son when my nephew was born. I’m not sure why so many kids are convinced that for you to love someone else you might have to love them less. With each additional person you love your capacity to love grows. Love is beautiful like that.

The continuation of the conversation is that kindness is not a finite resource, you can be kind to everyone you meet and still have the ability to be kind to yourself and your family at the end of the day. You never run out of kindness and the more you give away the more you receive in return. The look of wonder on my younger son’s face when he realized the truth of this was totally worth how many examples I had to use to illustrate my point.

I’ve also taught my kids that respect is not a finite resource, and if you want to be treated with respect you need to treat others with respect. Of course I teach this not just with words, but with actions as well. I treat my kids with respect, I ask for their input on things which will affect them. They see me treat others with respect as well. I do my best to treat other people the way I would like to be treated.

Compassion is not a finite resource, it is the well from which kindness springs.

It doesn’t cost us anything to be kind, polite, and respectful to others, it doesn’t diminish us in any way, it is not a sign of weakness.

These are lessons I learned from my family. Not just while I was growing up, but as an adult as well. And these are lessons I strive to teach my kids. Be good to people and treat everyone with respect.

And writing about love, kindness, and compassion can help deal with fear.

Prismatic Corvus

Sometimes the fear wins

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I have an anxiety disorder and I’m terrified of posting anything on the internet. Honestly, I’m afraid of anyone reading what I’ve written. I started this blog to overcome this fear.

I haven’t been posting much the last few months. Things have been crazy, in good ways and in bad ways. I’m tired all the time and that probably won’t improve any time soon. When my life gets too hectic my anxiety gets worse and I lack the strength to click the publish button.

My fear and anxiety have won March, but it’s just one battle.

I’m sorry for not posting anything. I have been trying to keep up with reading posts, though my WordPress app on my phone does weird things and sometimes loses a day’s worth of posts, or leaves some posts out and I only realize they are missing because I check my email.

But I’m not gone, I haven’t abandoned my blog, and I’m not giving up.

Just wanted to let you all know.

Prismatic Corvus

You don’t know what you’ve got…

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…until several things stop working properly in about a week and you find yourself ankle deep in disgusting bathtub water, sobbing over a broken plunger and wondering how you’re going to fit everything from the refrigerator into a cooler again.

I learned many things I had no interest in learning last month.

I learned about the inner workings of a refrigerator and how they can be compromised by a cat opening the freezer while everyone is sleeping. Sometimes the simplest solution doesn’t work, sometimes ice build up around a defrost heater can disconnect it. This is a problem that doesn’t become obvious until your refrigerator stops cooling for the second or third time while the freezer still works but your frozen veggies are buried in frost which behaves like snow once you free your veggies.

Appliance locks which are sold in the baby section are a good idea when you have a cat who loves the top of the fridge best. Cabinet locks from the baby section can be just as important. I learned that even after having cats for most of my life, they can still surprise me. Our foster-turned-permanent-resident cat has learned how to open cabinets, pretty much anything with the right type of handle.

I also learned that Lush bath melts + long hair + hard freeze + uninsulated drain pipes = bathtub completely stops draining. And that clog won’t move until the temperatures outside warm up enough. I also learned you can give yourself whiplash when your plunger unexpectedly breaks.

No more Lush bath melts or bath bombs for younger son in winter. He’ll have to limit his special relaxing baths to summer from now on. Yes, that means I have a seven year old son who would get more excited than I would about a gift card to Lush. He loves to smell nice.

My brother discovered and reconnected the defrost heater and it got warm enough outside to finally dislodge the clog in the tub drain two days ago. You never really understand how much you love your bathtub draining until it doesn’t and you’re forced to use a bucket to empty bath water into your toilet for ten days. I’m very grateful to live in Florida right now.

Gratitude. A lesson re-learned in February.

Gratitude for the workhorses of the house, things we don’t much think about but seriously miss when they don’t work.

Gratitude for my brother living with us. He has a way with appliances and he’d rather fix something himself than call in a professional. He researches thoroughly before he starts and he’s very careful while he works.

Our living situation may be strange, but it’s a blessing.

Gratitude for my parents living literally a five minute drive from us. Gratitude for the cooler we borrowed from them the first time the refrigerator stopped cooling and for the mini-fridge they bought for us the second time the refrigerator stopped cooling. It was very useful the third time the refrigerator stopped cooling.

There are many other things for which I’m grateful, this is only a short list.

Dealing with these things and getting ready for our first festival of the season are why I haven’t been posting. Also, my birthday was February 25th, I’m 35 now 🙂

Prismatic Corvus