Perma-Snoozed Pledges

All of you that have displayed mature judgement throughout your lives really need to stop reading now because I’m about to confess that I have failed to do that – sometimes in spectacular fashion.  Usually ethanol is involved (mmmmmm! Raspberry cosmos.)

For those of you that are with me in the Alternating Thursdays Chowderhead Club, you may be familiar with Porcelain Throne Pledges – “I swear I’ll never drink again!” You and I both  know that those pledges are as binding as those of Thomas Stanley to Richard III – valid only until Henry Tudor showed up. Mine were valid only until my Party Goblin did. (That’s what Iliza Shlesinger calls it and, frankly, I think that’s a perfect name for it. If you don’t know what a Party Goblin is, then you’re probably one of those people I told to stop reading in the first paragraph. But here’s a clip anyway: [profane language warning] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BS8NdCtOrM8).

But, Porcelain Throne Pledges aren’t the only ones I don’t honor and My Party Goblin isn’t the only thing that breaks them – sometimes it’s the snooze button.

At the end of any particularly wasted day spent binge-watching Scott and Bailey or reading some formulaic mystery novel, I find myself in bed, pen and paper in hand, making a list of all the things I’m going to do the next day to make up for being such a slug. I go to sleep with a feeling of resolve knowing that I am going to atone for my sloth! (That bit should be read like a Shakespearean actor.) Then the alarm goes off. I can choose to get up and honor my resolve, or I can hit the snooze button and kill it.

Guess which one usually happens.

Yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr Day. Dr. King had a great many wise things to say, one of which was, “If you can’t fly, then run, if you can’t run, then walk, if you can’t walk, then crawl, but by all means keep moving.” Such simple advice; but, I’m struggling with it mightily these days. It’s not like I’m setting myself tasks like resolving world conflict or solving the mystery of disappearing socks. My lists include basic things like “clean the bathroom” or “take off the recycling.” These are not difficult tasks, but I can (and do) find a million reasons not to do them. My intentions and resolve are great; but, I kill them with the snooze button time after time.

Is it just me?

Listen, my Party Goblin is old – like Bette Davis old, like dusty mummy Valley of the Queens old – and she hasn’t been summoned in a very long time. She’s really not much a threat to me anymore, but, the snooze button – now, that is still a big problem. If you’ve found a way to consistently defeat it, please share your secrets with me. I could use a little help.

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The Struggle is Real

I haven’t posted since mid-October which might lead you to think that I failed in my OktoberFast mission to avoid ice cream and dirty dishes. I am super proud to announce that I did, in fact, successfully complete my OktoberFast and, although I have since eaten ice cream, my sister and I have continued to keep our dishes washed and put away. You know, like grown-ups and stuff.

My office is in the home of the couple of work for. Their home is always very neat and clean which has led me to be more diligent in keeping my own home neat and clean. Well, maybe “keeping” isn’t the right word. A better word would be “making.” As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never been much of a housekeeper. I’ve been better at it some times than others; but, I’ve never kept my house Company Ready. But I’m getting closer and that feels really good.

I have believed for a long time that the state of my house often reflects the state of my spirit. When I am depressed, my house is VERY messy. When I am up-beat, my house is more presentable. The correlation really isn’t accurate right now because, although my bed is made daily and my house is vacuumed and dusted weekly, my spirit is struggling. I spend a lot of time alone. I’m fat again. I’m out of shape. My ankle/foot hurts almost all the time. Finances are always a struggle. It has gotten me down.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been down like this, although I wish the last time had been the last time! I know that I have a history of beating times like this 100% of the time; but, I’m just so sick of fighting, you know? The struggle is real and, frankly, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of it and that doesn’t help anything, either. Yesterday was particularly bad.

Then I talked to a friend.

I’ve shared with you all that I have been treated for depression since I was in my early 20s. For more than half of my life, I’ve had a monster living in my mind – a monster that tries to destroy me on a daily basis. I tell with absolute conviction that without a handful friends over the years (you know who you are), that monster would have won. While the monster is not threatening my life at the moment, it’s certainly being a pain. I don’t like to call on my friends with every episode for fear that they’ll get tired of hearing about them. (I know I get tired of experiencing them, for sure!) So, I was reluctant to tell my friend what was going on in my head yesterday. However, the man reads me better than nearly anyone I’ve ever met. When I finally told him what was going on, he said this:

“…you’re on my team and I’m on your team.”

It humbles me and amazes me every time someone chooses to like me. I’m hard to get along with. I’m hyper-critical. I procrastinate. I’m often full of shit. I try to be better. I am rarely successful. But, I try. I struggle. My struggle is real.

So is my team. I thank each of you.

(Team t-shirts coming soon!)

 

There’s Always a Reason to Cheat

On your diet, that is.

Last week, I told you that I had given up ice cream for my OktoberFast. I don’t really know that you can appreciate just how big a sacrifice that is for me. I used to say that Little Debbie was my homegirl; but, y’all, Debs ain’t got nothing on Ben and Jerry. If you don’t understand that, then I can safely conclude that you either: 1. don’t like ice cream (and what kind of mutant are you?) , or 2. have never tried either Phish Food or Karamel Sutra. (Side note: this Spring, I started cheating on my boys from Vermont, though, by taking the High Road. Their Aztec Chocolate is transcendent. Seriously.)

But….that’s not really my point, plus I’m drooling on my keyboard.

My point is that I love ice cream and that I notice its absence acutely. In spite of this – or rather, because of this – I gave it up for OktoberFast…..totally not thinking about my friend’s birthday being in October.

Traditionally, what do we have for birthday celebrations? Cake and ice cream! Yes! So, when discussing his birthday dinner, we agreed that I could take a “time out” just for that one night. After all, it was just one night. And it was his birthday, for pity’s sake!

Right. It was still cheating.

I made a commitment to myself at the beginning of October that I would keep the sinks clear of dishes and that I would not eat ice cream. Neither commitment really matters to anyone else but me; so, who really cares if I lapse? No, not lapse. Cheat.

I care.

We were celebrating. That’s a good reason to have something special, right? Sure. It’s as good an excuse as any to cheat. So is having a bad day, having a good day, or Thursday. There’s always an excuse to cheat if you look for one.

I’ve regained 80 of the pounds I lost six years ago with just that kind of thinking. “I can have it just this once.” But it wasn’t just once, was it? That one cheat day became a cheat weekend, then a cheat month, then fat pants with elastic waistbands.

It’s just like several of the times I quit smoking. I would go for months and even a couple of years without a cigarette. Then I would be with a group of smokers and I would think that I could have just one. BAM! I’d soon be back up to a pack a day on regular days and over two packs a day on the weekends. The truth I had to face was that I couldn’t have just one. I was (and still am, I suppose) a nicotine addict. One hit of that Camel Light and I was hooked again. Intellectually, I know that my body responds to all addictive substances in basically the same way – the pleasure centers of my brain go nuts. And my brain doesn’t really care if the cause is a cupcake or a crack pipe. It just knows that it’s getting something it likes and it wants more of it.

Ultimately, my addiction isn’t to ice cream. It’s to sugar and to casein, the protein in milk that, when broken down during digestion, releases opiates called casomorphins. To be fair, there is some debate on how much of an effect casomorphins have on the human body; however, sugar is still there so my issue remains. In the end, I have to break my addiction to sugar by drastically reducing my intake of refined and added sugars. Ice cream is just the first step.

And, just so you know, I bought the container pictured above for my friend to enjoy ice cream with his cake while I limited myself to cake. Hey, it was chocolate ganache and I never claimed to be a saint. I obeyed the letter of the law. Obeying the spirit of the law will come later when I’m a little stronger.

As for OktoberFast? I’m still faithful and going strong.

 

Disorderly Conduct for OctoberFast

Y’all, I’ve finally admitted to myself this week that I have skid row self-discipline. Every night before I go to sleep, I make to-do lists and swear resolutions like a drunk with her head over the toilet. I promise to do the laundry and actually get it all put away on the same day (!) just like that drunk promises to never touch another drop of alcohol. And just like that drunk pops a cork the next day, I’m sitting on the couch on the next day with my feet up, eating popcorn, and watching Game of Thrones while the laundry sits unfolded on the kitchen table.

And, frankly, I’m getting on my own nerves with it.

My house is NEVER ready for company to just drop by. I stop at fast food places for dinner, meanwhile salad ingredients liquify in my refrigerator. I drink WAY too much Diet Coke because I just don’t like to drink water. I still can’t walk for exercise; but, I don’t haul myself to the pool, which I could do. I have such a huge list of things I need and/or want to tackle, I don’t get any of it done.

My boss was talking the other day about something she does – OctoberFast. For the month of October, she gives up one unhealthy thing – like Lent, but in the Fall and without Mardi Gras parades. So, I’m tackling my list by giving up two things: 1. ice cream, and 2. leaving dishes in the sink.

no-ice-cream-for-youNow, for a reasonable person, giving up ice cream might mean no dessert for two nights a month. Not for me! The ridiculous truth is that I eat ice cream at least four times a week. (I told you it was ridiculous.) And I just haven’t made myself give it up; so, I’m doing it for October – 31 days with no ice cream. I’m not giving it up forever, but I can handle 31 days. I can handle a finite period of time without my favorite treat and with a new chore.

My dishwasher died several years ago and I’ve never replaced it. I lived alone for much of that time and it just wasn’t that important to me. Now, however, my sister lives with me and the dishes pile up faster since neither of us are big fans of washing them. I get annoyed with her when she doesn’t wash them when I think it’s her turn; but, the truth is, I don’t do them like I should when it’s my turn, either. I’m currently saving up for a dishwasher; however, it’s unlikely that I’ll have the money for it before the end of the month So, for the 31 days that are October, I will wash the dishes every day and put them away before I go to bed. That’s such a basic adult thing to do, it really looks like that would be a non-issue, doesn’t it? Well, whatever. It is and I’m dealing with it this month.

This October is a time to tackle two places where I display no self-discipline. I’m hopeful that I’ll notice a change in my motivations by the time the month is over. I’d say that I’m looking forward to it, but that’s not really the truth. (Didn’t you hear me? I’m giving up ICE CREAM!) But, I know the process is good for me; so, I’m doing it. I just OctoberFast really is…..er…fast.

Clearing Space

Twice this year I have helped move other people. As I packed their belongings, sometimes I wondered why they kept some of the things they did. Sometimes, I wondered, but only sometimes since that kind of question leads to uncomfortable introspection in my experience; so, mostly, I just kept my mouth shut and packed.

At the best of times, I am not a great housekeeper. Knick-knacks give dust a place to settle. Knick-knacks also create an obstacle course for dusting, making an unpleasant task even more unpleasant. So, I rarely do it. The cooling temperatures motivated me to do a some Fall cleaning this weekend which has lead to a little introspection on why I keep so many things.

I have books that I bought 10 years ago intending to read.  I still haven’t read them. My guess at this point is that I’m not going to. I have bowls that belonged to my grandmother. She used them daily. They have been in the back of my cabinet for 12 years. I have two 32″ CRT television sets. One hasn’t been turned on since December. The only has been dark for 5 years. I have enough mismatched wine glasses to have 30 people over for cocktails and canapes. I don’t even know 30 people I’d want to have over for cocktails and canapes! I have shelving units and storage furniture that does nothing but store things I don’t use –  things are weighing me down. They are cluttering my space, making it harder for me to keep an orderly home that feels good to be in. So, I started boxing things up, listing them for sale and giving them away.

It gave me a stomach ache.

Can you believe that?! I actually felt physically ill when I delivered a reproduction ice box to a woman who wanted it. I felt panicked putting books into a box to go to the library. How silly is that?

Every item I identified as useless, the hoarder in my soul identified as something with priceless memories attached. “You can’t get rid of that book on felting with cat hair! Think of all the projects you are going to make with that!” I felt like a child with a toy I’ve long ignored until someone else wanted to play with it. Suddenly, it was the Most Important Toy Ever.

Organization experts say to keep only those things that make you happy. Get rid of things that you are keeping out of guilt or habit. Keep useful things that contribute to your positive sense of well-being. As I sorted through things to keep, my Inner Hoarder said that everything makes me happy – in fact, I might need a few more things! My Inner Hoarder talks too much, contributes nothing to the bills, and won’t dust for love or money.

So, I have these useless things all around me, clogging my space, draining my energy, hiding dust that makes my nose stuffy and, still, I am reluctant to give them up. I know that it is wasteful for me to keep them when someone else can actually use them; but, still, I hesitate. I know that I will feel better physically if I get rid of the dust that hides in all these extra books and knick-knacks, and yet…….

They are familiar. They are tradition. And I don’t like change even when it’s good for me.

From the looks of all the storage facilities lining the highways,  I’m not the only one.

 

 

 

 

Confessions of a Maya Angelou Flunkee

Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.      –Maya Angelou

Yeah, except that I don’t.

  • A stitch in time saves time.
    • The button that came off my duvet cover this weekend isn’t back on the duvet. Are you kidding?! It’s on my nightstand where it will stay until it gets lost forever.
  • An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
    • I buy apples all the time and a few days later, I throw those same apples into my compost pile when I take my fast food containers to the trash can.
  • Haste makes waste.
    • In my case, haste makes waist – I can down a pint of Phish Food with frightening efficiency.
  • Well done is better than well said.
    • I talk about eating right and exercising all the time; but, where some people are healthy by following the 80/20 rule, it’s a banner day if I’m 50/50.

Since I have not been able to go to work, I don’t have a set time when I have to be up most days, which means that I can get up really early and enjoy the day! Um, we’ve met at least virtually, right? Yeah. So, no. I am sleeping late, then napping later – no early to rise for me, Poor Richard! I don’t have a schedule or routine which, it turns out, is super bad for my adulting efforts. So maybe I need a roommate or chaperone (whatever).

I got one. My sister has lived with me for the past 18 months or so which is both a good thing and a really bad thing. We keep each other on track with a lot of stuff; but, we both struggle with adulting on some of the same issues. We don’t fold clothes or put them away. We don’t dust. We don’t wash dishes. We don’t clean out the refrigerator. There are lots of things we’re just really not very good at. I don’t want you to think that my house looks like an episode of Hoarders, it doesn’t; however, if you walk into my kitchen and can see the top of my table, it’s a pretty sure bet I’m expecting guests. When I say that we don’t do those things, what I really mean is that we don’t do them willingly. We do them, but there’s a lot of pouting and foot dragging that goes on.

I see people and I know people who never have a pile of clothes sitting around waiting to be folded. There’s never a dirty dish in the sink. The brightware in their bathrooms is always sparkling. I am not one of these people. It’s not rocket science on being one either, is it? I mean, if you take clothes out of the dryer, fold them and put them away. Wash the dirty dishes and put them away right when you’re done with them. I don’t need an algorithm to figure out how to do it. I know how. I know better. I just don’t do it. I flunk Maya Angelou.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a piece about how you don’t get a Gold Star just for doing the minimum. Yet, I have to admit that when I go to bed knowing that there are no clothes to be folded and put away, that the floors have been vacuumed and that there are no dishes in the sink, I feel like I should get a gold star. I feel like I’ve done something note-worthy. It’s not particularly note-worthy in the larger scheme of things; but, these days, when my universe has been limited largely to my own home for months, I really don’t care about the larger scheme of things. I don’t. These days, I’m trying to motivate myself to rejoin the human race. I’m WAY behind the curve now that I’ve been sidelined for so long; so, sometimes, the only step I make in the direction of a reunion with humanity is putting away the dishes. Maybe you’d say that doesn’t merit a gold star; but, right now, I say it does. And I’m going to take it.

 

Drowning in Disability Depression

If you’ve read my blog over the last year, you may know that I’ve been struggling with foot issues. July 2016 I began to experience extraordinary left ankle and foot pain. I’d been suffering with plantar fasciitis in that foot for several months; but, this was something else, something worse. Several nights I left work literally in tears, hobbling like Quasimodo on a bender. Let me put it in perspective for you on my pain scale:

  • 10 – childbirth
  • 9 – folded meniscus
  • 8.92 – this foot and ankle pain, hence the “extraordinary” adjective

Resized_20170411_115300I began consulting an orthopedist which has been a very expensive proposition, both in terms of bills and in lost wages. I’ve had stress fractures in the foot as a result of a  fibrous calcaneonavicular coalition in there. I’ve worn a walking cast/boot for so long that the rubber at the ankle is beginning to tear. I’ve been in a hard cast twice and I’ve been unable to work since the end of December. A little over a month ago, I had surgery to remove the tarsal coalition in my left foot. What that means in practical terms is that the doctor drilled a hole in the middle of my foot to allow the bones that were previously improperly connected to each other to move freely – that’s actually my x-ray with the shiny new hole in it.  As of today, I’m still in the orthopedic boot. I hope that changes when I see the doctor on the 22nd.

This foot problem has impacted every area of my life and I hate it. Walking with crutches or using a knee scooter is such a hassle and because I couldn’t walk without them for so long, I stopped going places. Because I didn’t go anywhere, I wore my pajamas most of the time. Because I wore my pajamas most of the time, I felt like a slug. Because I felt like a slug, I got depressed. Because I got depressed, I ate more. Because I ate more and couldn’t walk, I gained even more weight.

My skin feels greasy. My hair looks like crap. I’m enormous….again. I feel ugly nearly all of the time. And I feel so ugly all the time that when I get dressed, I can’t tell if I hate what I see in the mirror because it’s an I-feel-ugly-because-I-feel-fat thing or because it’s a genuine WTF are you wearing thing. I would ask my sister (who is my roommate) but since I left her favorite stuffed monkey Zip outside and the dogs chewed him up when I was four, I can’t completely trust that she wouldn’t let me walk out looking like Holy Hell Barbie just to pay me back.

As you know, I have battled depression since my early twenties – sometimes the battle is a raging internal conflict, sometimes there is an uneasy peace. These past months have been a constant, intense onslaught due to pain, immobility cause by the pain, frustration caused by the immobility, and anger caused by the frustration. Throw a little self-loathing in there and you get a pretty good idea of where I am today.

Normally, I try to end my posts on a positive note – you know, since I’m the Positive Thinking Blog Goddess and all – but, y’all, I just don’t have it right now. The combat has exhausted me and although I am able to get my head above water from time to time. I feel like I’m drowning.

Maybe this is overshare. Maybe you don’t want to know all of this. Maybe you don’t care. But, maybe you do. Maybe you’re drowning, too.

Maybe you know where the life buoys are?