Positive thoughts. Positive thinking. Positive intentions. Positive crap?  I don’t know.  I’m feeling rather blah right about now.  I’ve done all the right things and yet, still struggling.  I wear the right clothes.  Dress for the job you want, not for the job you have.  I say the right things.  Correction does much but encouragement does more.  I think the right thoughts.  It will all work out in the end.  I try to think positive, speak positive, be positive, and yet, here I am.  I sit at work, well-dressed, and pounding away at my blog in frustration. 

Things get better, things get worse.  Moods get higher, moods get low. 

Wednesday Mr. W was stressing about life, I think.  Schedules and need-to-dos and stress itself was stressing him out.  I tried to calm him, make him see it really wasn’t all that bad, be positive, say the right words.  I think it worked, and Friday, we, as a family, had a great day.  We went to the fair.  Ate lots of junk.  Won prizes (including two more immortal fair-fish).  Saw baby pigs race. Watched (and smelled) stinky farm animals.  It was a good day.  We rounded it out with an evening at home with three of the four children.  Saturday he left for drill…and my children turned into assholes.  Yep, I said it: ASSHOLES!! 

Why is it that it takes exactly THREE times being told for my children to do something.  ALWAYS THREE TIMES!  Not one (which is the ideal), not two, not four, not fifteen.  THREE.  WHY?  Not listening.  Saying the same word or making the same noise over and over and over and over AND OVER again.  Fighting with each other.  Fighting with me.  Bossing everyone around.  Making demands.  Fussing when demands aren’t met.  Yeah, this went on for THE.  ENTIRE.  WEEKEND.  After the fair, and a movie (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs…in 3D…absolutely awesome!) and nothing but fun and spoiling for two days!  So Sunday morning I made them get up and clean the house.  Yes, I made my 4 and 5 year old clean my house.  That’s just how I roll.  Unfortunately (as it was meant for punishment) and fortunately (as I would rather them have fun with laughter and smiles any day) they thoroughly enjoyed cleaning, so, yeah… AND, the girl, still in the final stages of potty training: overnights, wet her bed both Friday and Saturday night.  That, for those of you who don’t know, meant four loads of laundry right there (two times for the comforter, two times for the sheets and waterproof bed cover thingy).  Not regular laundry either.  Stinky, pee laundry.  Not to be combined with anything else laundry.  Extra long wash times in extra hot water laundry.  Big bulky blanket laundry that takes longer to dry.  So a total of 5 hours, per day, tied up in her bed clothes.  Yeah, the regular laundry did NOT get done…so shoot me. 

Mr. W was home again Sunday afternoon.  I was still a bit cranky from the weekend FROM HELL and probably took it out on him.  Although I can’t imagine I would EVER do something so hideous…  Apparently we were fighting when we went to bed last night.  Something about dirty socks being inside out and an annoyingly squeaky spot in the floor.  I guess I missed it.  But he’s still mad at me.  Weird.  Frustratingly weird.  So frustratingly weird that my intentions to get a jump start on my homework (yep, started another class today) are all dashed over the rocks of frustrating weirdness, being beat down further by blah and negativity.

Why is it everytime I think I’m in a good place, with good intentions, with a positive outlook on life, SOMETHING (fate, God, the Universe, whatever!)  HAS TO GO AND SMACK ME UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH A FREAKING SLEDGEHAMMER TO LET ME KNOW JUST WHERE MY PLACE IN LIFE ACTUALLY IS: AT THE FREAKING BOTTOM, APPARENTLY!?   

So in the middle of trying to be positive, to stay ahead, to plan painting and packing and purchasing a house, to be organized, to avoid the stress and struggle, to get done, be done, to just find happiness… I’m, no we’re struggling and stressing (and apparently fighting) and being so freaking negative we are probably walking around backwards.

Next week will mark two whole years since I left my (marital) home and moved an hour away (closer to work) with just my children.  I marvel at how much has changed since then!  I was in my lowest of lows at the time.  Miserable is a day in the park compared to what I was going through.  I was lonely, angry, depressed, medicated, counseled, sad, disappointed in myself and in life.  It was just bad.  I found what little comfort I could in my children and when they weren’t around, in a sadly misguided relationship with someone who admittedly helped me through those times by providing me companionship and comfort in the form of what I thought was true feeling, possibility, hope.  Within a couple months I found the “love” that was declared was nothing more than a kind of misplaced devotion that was moved to me during hard times with his wife.  (Yeah, I’ve been that girl…)

That kind of devotion, the infatuation, the lust, the worship, even.  It’s not unpleasant.  In fact, it can be downright intoxicating.  I’ve caught my fair share of admirers.  I’ve even allowed myself to get caught up in the moment with them, feeding on their unbridled declarations of adoration like it was a drug, usually using them up completely before moving quickly on to my next hit.  I’ve left a small trail of broken hearts and/or broken spirits in my wake, never really caring because, really, are they that pathetic?  That’s  not my fault!  I was the man that mothers warned their daughters about, only, I wasn’t.  I was something worse.  I was a girl who played the man’s game better than the boys.  Even two separations and two children apparentlyhadn’t brought me to the light.  At the time I split up with ex#2, I was so completely engulfed in darkness and despair that I didn’t, no couldn’t care enough about another person to realize what was going on before it was too late.  I couldn’t care enough about  myself.

“Do you know what it is to feel the light of love inside you? And all the darkness falls away.”  –Dave Matthews Band, “Shake Me Like a Monkey”

“Why, yes, Mr. Matthews.  I think I have…”

Admittedly, Mr. W and I didn’t have the most promising start.  Both fresh out of not just relationships, but marriages.  Both with children we felt we were neglecting.  Both dealing with a million and one things in our own lives.  We came together in what would probably be considered, even by us both at this point, a time of weakness, for all the wrong reasons, and in the wrong way to start a relationship (physically).  But who said either of us was looking to start a relationship?  Yeah, not so much.  It was a “friends with benefits” sort of scenario if I’ve ever seen one.  But then something strange happened…the darkness began to fall away…

I really never knew “it” could be like this.  I’ve come so far in the last two years in so many areas of my life, directly because of Mr. W; his companionship, his support, his friendship, his love.  He’s never forced anything on me, consciously or otherwise.  The most appealing part of our relationship (well, besides the way it started) was always the lack of pressure.  I didn’t have to think or do or worry or stress (when things were good at least), I could just be.  And now that we’ve worked through all those rocky times, and things are good, the just being is bliss!  Yes, we have worries and stresses and things to think about, but we do them together and we’ve found a way to do all that without putting the pressure on each other or our relationship.  This is how it should always be.  …and I call him Mr. Wonderful!

Mr. W stood next to me in that darkness.  No, he crawled into the hole with me and sat next to me until I’d let him hold me.  Then he held me until I was ready to think about the light.  Then he listened to me talk about the light until I was ready to move towards it.  And slowly, we walked into the light together, holding hands the whole way.  He didn’t pull or push.  He stayed right at my side as I did it on my own.  He gave me back my strength while seemingly doing nothing at all.  Sure we’ve had our moments in shadows during our relationship so far, and I’m sure we will have some downright eclipses sometime.  But I’m willing to bet, all those times we struggled and fought and went through the darkness, if either of us had bothered to look down, we were still holding tightly to each other’s hand.  I’d put my life on that!

There are times, maybe I’m out and about on my own somewhere, when I will get a glance or a comment or a flirtatious moment from some nice looking man and I’ll admit, I sometimes get the blushes and the little stomach flip and I feel a little hint of that old me buried deep in the past and begging for a hit.  But only sometimes, and less and less often for every moment I spend in my new, most wonderful life with my most wonderful mate*.  And less than a moment later.  A split second, a breath, and without even trying, I know who I have truly loving me at home.  I know what I have.  I know that it’s everything I’ve always wanted and so much more.  And I will never give any of it up for anything in the world.  Not for a secret hit.  Not for a few moments of flutter.  Not for the unknown.  Not for the possibility, because quite frankly, there is no possibility.  I won’t give him up.  I won’t give us up.  Never.

* from dictionary.com

Mate:  –noun

1.  husband or wife; spouse. 
2. one member of a pair of mated animals.
3. one of a pair: “I can’t find the mate to this glove.” 
4. a counterpart. 
5. an associate; fellow worker; comrade; partner (often used in combination): classmate; roommate. 
    

   friend; buddy; pal (often used as an informal term of address): Let me give you a hand with that, mate. 

6. Nautical.   a.   first mate.     b.  any of a number of officers of varying degrees of rank subordinate to the master of a merchant ship.    c.   an assistant to a warrant officer or other functionary on a ship. 
7. an aide or helper, as to an artisan; factotum. 
8. a gear, rack, or worm engaging with another gear or worm. 
9. Archaic. an equal in reputation; peer; match.

I think that works wonderfully!  Well, except for the “nautical” stuff, but he is the Navy boy, so I guess he can handle that part of the definition on his own.  

This Saturday I will be taking the kids to the girls fourth birthday party.  Yes, she reached 4 years of age two weeks ago, but this will be the fourth time she is celebrating it.  She had a family party with ex#2 and his family the weekend following her actual birthday, in conjunction with ex#2′s birthday which was the following Monday.  She had a party at pre-school that Friday.  She had a party at my house last Saturday.  And she’s having another one, with friends and all this Saturday.  And you best believe she received presents at the last three, with more to come.  Yes, divorce is rough on kids, but there are some serious perks!

The boy’s birthday falls just 2 days before Christmas and with my two divorces in his life, he basically gets to celebrate and receive gifts for like a month and a half.  He has Christmas with me, with his dad (ex#1) and his family, and with ex#2 and his family.  We are all in agreement that he shouldn’t get cheated on the whole birthday thing just because he was born so close to Christmas, so he also gets three birthday celebrations, complete with specific birthday gifts, not to ever be combined with Christmas gifts.  Now that he is in school, I’m sure there will be more celebrations of birthday and Christmas in his near future.  That’s eight gift-giving occasions in the month of December.  Nice!  (Of course the girl gets her two Christmases every year as well.) 

I am dreading the day that the kids consciously figure out that they can (attempt to) pit all us grown-ups against each other.  Seriously dreading.  The boy has Mr. W and me, his dad and me, his dad and Mr. W, his dad and ex#2, ex#2 and me, and on rare occasion I’m sure, Mr. W and ex#2 to work on so far.  Add in his dad’s girlfriend, if she sticks around, and any future Ms. ex#2 and that a whole bunch of conflict he can bring on all of us if we’re not careful.  With that many people competing for your affection, the possibilities are endless!  The girl doesn’t have any connection to ex#1, but that still leaves her with plenty of drama to cause.  Plus she has the added bonus of an over-involved aunt (and possibly soon-to-be uncle) and over bearing grandparents with their own ideas of child spoiling rearing.  With all the pre-existing differences of opinion on the hows and whats of being parental-types, the kids are going to have a field day working it all to their advantage.  My only hope is that we can at least start reading from the same book by then as I have a feeling being on the same page is just not going to happen.  And I married these men!  What was I thinking?

Why do we get involved with people who are so clearly different?  How can we possibly imagine it will all just work out?  I actually remember telling myself that.  ”It will all work itself out in the end.  We will be fine.  We will be happy, perfect parents.”  Yeah.  Fat chance!  I can’t really speak for the younger, less experienced, just plain dumber me of the days when I “fell in love” with these men, but the me I know today has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN COMMON with them.  (Except of course for the kids.)  We don’t think the same.  We don’t like the same things.  We don’t have the same beliefs.  We don’t run in the same social circles.  We don’t have the same goals.  We don’t have the same parenting styles.  We don’t have even similar hopes for our kid’s futures!  Thank the stars I found Mr. W.  I thought a relationship and a marriage and parenting was something that had to be constant work to even hope for success.  I realize now I was sorely and thankfully mistaken.  When you have distinct similarities the “work” just falls away.  We aren’t exactly the same.  That would just be annoying.  And a little creepy.  But we are at least in the same general area on most things.  Different enough to allow for healthy conversation, but similar and mutually respectful (← very very VERY important!) enough to come to some common ground in the end.  There are many moments that we think or say the exact same thing at the exact same time.  (Its cute really.    We call them our “soul mate” moments.  Cheesy, I know.  But show me a relationship without a little cheese and I’ll show you a relationship that just isn’t fun!)  But there are also moments when we see things differently but are able to have adult discussions on the best course of action to deal with such differences.  I know that sounds like “work” right there, but really, there are many more moments of cheese than there are of difference.  And I am so thankful.  That’s why I call him Mr. Wonderful!

Another thing that divorce brings to my kids life is variety.  Most kids grow up with a solid foundation of how things should be based on how things are in their youth.  They have one basic example around them and they tend to follow in that footprint, whatever it may be, right or wrong or indifferent.  There is that whole argument on Nature vs. Nurture that I don’t even want to get into, but you have to admit, those little spongy people just suck up what’s around them and usually continue the trends throughout their own adult lives.  My kids have several, vastly different environments and mentalities and ways of being to sponge from.  On one hand, this may end up totally confusing for them in the end, which would suck.  But my hopes (and true belief) is that the variety will provide them with a much richer bank to pull from.  They will be able to see, and experience several different ways of being, in relationships and in life.  They will be able to form their own opinions on what works and what doesn’t and come up with a mosaic that works for them.  They will be more educated on the sociology of life (at least parts of life) without ever knowing it.  They will take part in a larger spectrum of experiences as they pass from one group of people to another and back again.  I have high hopes for my children, and I am thankful that despite my failures they may actually come out the other end all the better. 

Or they’ll be totally confused.  Which as I said, would suck.

So it’s been two whole months since that mystery pain crept in and turned my world on end, later becoming a diagnosis of Lyme disease, continuing into a whole habit-changing, pill-popping, symptom-tracking, I-hate-my-body-ing thing.  At this point, I’m so over the multiple daily inquiries on “how I’m feeling today” by all those around me, mostly because they don’t actually give a shitand are only asking out of some morbid fascination with other people’s pain combined with a lame attempt at being sympathetic, or interested in my life, or whatever.  Basically I’ve been putting on a happy face for everyone just so they will leave me the hell alone, and also stop looking at me like “ooh, there goes the sick girl.  She’s sick.  It’s a whole sicky thing over there.  It must suck to be sick.”  BLAH-BLAH-freaking-BLAH!

But really, how am I feeling?  Well…

The pain is lingering, but not constant.  I’m to the point where I can feel it creeping in and pop a pill before it becomes wince-worthy.  I’m not sleeping, like, AT ALL, so yeah, that sucks, but it’s not the first time in my life I’ve had an all out war with insomnia.  For some reason I wake up every morning dying of thirst.  Like seriously, DYING!  So thirsty that my morning coffee that I love OH SO MUCH just won’t go down because all I want is 15 gallons of water.  And as if that isn’t enough, my coffee affair is further sabotaged by nearly constant nausea.  It is so difficult to enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee with creamer when you feel like you are going to throw up any second.  And even harder when you actually do!  Work sucks all the way around for the lack of sleep, the annoyance of waking up at 5am (on no sleep), the uncomfortable semi-professional attire (when I would love nothing more than to slip into some nice comfy sweats and go back to sleep), the lack of coffee to counteract the lack of sleep and the getting up at 5am, and, yeah, the urge to suddenly up and chuck doesn’t mesh well with my  job description which calls for constant attention to my position for at least an hour at a time.  There are hot and cold flashes, headaches, both tension and sinus, did I mention the undying thirst? And of course the accompanying need to pee every. twenty. seconds.  And there are all the other little things: the brain fog, the sore back and joints, the “sensitive” stomach, the stiff neck, the lack of any kind of energy whatsoever, the occasional light depression…the list just goes on! 

But I’m keeping a happy face…trying…

With the weather turning I am now faced with the decision on whether or not to get not one, but two flu shots (you k now that H1N1 thing).  I haven’t had one in years.  Not since I separated from the military and thusly separated from the MANDITORY stamp put on every vaccine that came out.  (Anthrax, yellow fever, flu shots.  check, check, check.)  But now, I just don’t know.  Do I chance getting sick in my weakened immune state?  Or do I get the shot and chance getting something from the “weakened” virus in my weakened immune state?  And what about the kids?  Neither of them have gotten in for testing yet (for Lyme) which even if they did there is the great possibility it will come back negative even if they have it (yet another joy of being a Lymie).  My docs office is so backed up that I can’t get them in until next month and the girl’s father is just being, well, difficult about the whole thing.  What to do, what to do?  Taking sick leave for the flu, whether for myself or for the kids, just isn’t an option right now.  And I don’t think I have the physical strength to deal with getting the flu on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.  Arrgghh! 

And next Monday: the neurologist.  Do I have holes in my brain?  Do I have MS?  Am I going to go blind?  Have the little buggers that are causing the Lyme gotten in there?  Am I going to lose my mind (or have I already?)?  Or is everything perfectly normal?  (That last one was for Mr. W.  Love you, baby!) 

And now I think it may be time to vomit, get a gallon or so of water, take a couple dozen pills, and put on a happy face to resume work.  Cheers! 

You lay there quietly after a pseudo-fight.  You know, one of those fights without words, without action, with only the knowledge that you are fighting about something.  You lay there quietly, listening to each other breathe, waiting for the other to show signs of sleeping to give you one more thing to be mad about.  You lay there counting you heartbeats, watching the shadows of the fan on the ceiling, feeling the breeze of the a/c on your face.  With every beat of your heart, every inch of your body wants to curl up against him, feel his skin on yours, feel the warmth coming off him, let it engulf you and lull you off into a peaceful sleep.  But then there is the mind, ah, that powerful mind.  Your mind won’t allow it.  Your mind screams “NO” at the top of its lungs.  Your mind makes your heart race once more as it reminds you of the anger you are supposed to feel.  Your mind convinces you it’s all his fault.  Your aching back: obviously because he is making the mattress bend funny.  Your sore neck: obviously because he smooshed your pillow flat.  Your insomnia: obviously because he started all this…

The mind is a powerful thing.  And the conscious mind likes its power.  Loves it.  Craves it.  Won’t let go of it.  The unconscious mind is peaceful and giving.  It allows for forgiveness.  It gives way to the needs of the heart and body., and the conscious mind can’t have that!  You find a semi, albeit lonely spot in the bed and begin to dose.  Oh, no!  The mind spurs you with an additional thought of betrayal to get your heart racing again.  You close your eyes to search for a moment of peace, but the mind is working.  Meanwhile you are gritting your teeth…and…ah, there it is.  A headache.  A tension headache.  An impossible-to-sleep-with tension headache.  You rub your temples, adjust your body, and close your eyes to block out the brightness of the numbers on the alarm clock.  And the mind puts images in your head much bolder than those numbers, much more disturbing.  And as the numbers change, from 12 to 1 to 2 am, they become a friendly alternative to what awaits in the darkness of your mind. 

In the morning, after 2 or 3 precious hours of broken sleep, the alarm startles you awake.  Cranky and overtired, you stumble into the shower.  The warm water mildly refreshing to your mind…and oh, yeah…I didn’t sleep because of him…and it starts all over again…

Ok, so we know I have sleeping issues of all sorts, but for the last 3 nights straight I have woken up at 1:44 am.  The last 3 nights straight!  What does that mean?  I know my previous tendency to wake at 3 am had all sorts of possibilities (psychic hour, hour of the devil as in the opposite of when Christ died, liver hour, etc) but 1:44 am?  Really, any ideas?  It’s kind of creepy, actually…

Anyway, so I feel like crap today.  Surprise, surprise!  This cold just won’t leave.  The stuffy head gave way to a constantly runny nose which has now given way to some killer body-aches.  I feel like I’ve been run over with a truck.  The worst part, I don’t k now if it’s a simple cold, or the beginning of flu season, or the Lyme disease, (or some strange reaction to waking up at 1:44 am), or something else entirely.  On top of that, I think I may be getting a sinus infection and a bladder infection.  HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?  I’ve been on antibiotics for over a month.  What do they give you for sinus, bladder, or any other type of infection?  Antibiotics.  How can I get something that is “curable” by antibiotics when I’m on a constant stream of antibiotics?  And, more to the point, how the hell would I go about getting rid of said infections?  More antibiotics?  So, for anyone keeping count, technology* hates me AND my body hates me. 

And Christmas is coming.  I loveChristmas.  I get totally geeky about Christmas.  Once I had a house in which to “do” Christmas in for the first time, I made a rule that all that entered must be happy, otherwise they would be forced to eat Christmas dinner outside.  Yep, that’s just how I roll with Christmas.  What I don’t love is the gifting thing.  Well, it’s more of a love/hate relationship.  I love giving gifts, but I hate the stress of trying to figure out what to get.  I have another thing.  Yeah, I know, me and my “things.”  But I can’t get people Christmas presents that are on a list shorter than, oh, say 20 items.  I just can’t.  It ruins the whole surprise thing that is way to priceless.  Also, I can’t get anyone a gift that is “useful.”  It kills me every year to ask my mom what she wants and inevitably she comes back with one item and it’s a lunch box.  Or slippers.  Or a red T-shirt.  Yes, one year she wanted nothing more than a red T-shirt.  WHAT IS THAT?  How am I supposed to show my love and appreciation for the woman that brought me into this world with a RED T-SHIRT?  Not possible.  Of course, one year I went out on a limb and bought her a black leather Coach purse (since she had been admiring a similar one I bought in the summer) and she refuses to use it!  She says it’s too nice and I spent too much and she’s afraid of getting it dirty.  So it sits all lonely in the bag in her closet.  That’s just purse abuse!  She’s lucky she’s my mom, or else I’d have to report her to the authorities! 

Well, with Christmas coming, I’ve made an early list of those Mr. W and I will be gifting this year, kids at the top…………and I’ve got nothing.  I have no clue what to get anyone!  A four year old girl, a six year old boy, a 14 year old girl and a 16 year old boy shouldn’t be this hard to shop for.  And to make things extra challenging, the girl’s (4th) b-day just past, so she’s Barbied out for the year, the step-boy has a (16th) b-day next month, the boy’s (6th) b-day is 2 days before Christmas (yeah, he’s that kid…poor kid…), and the step-girl’s (15th) b-day is in February.  Oh yeah, and Mr. W.  Let’s not forget him.  1) I have even less of a clue what to get him for Christmas, and 2) his b-day is a week before Christmas.  You know, at least I had the decency and good sense to be born in July!  I can’t wait for Christmas morning, after I’ve figured out what to get everyone and can just sit back and enjoy their shining faces along with the knowledge that I have a whole ‘nother year (9ish months) before the drama begins again. 

*The day after I posted this, my brand-spanking-new, iPod compatible, fancy-shmancy, waited-hemmed-and-hawed-about-the-price-for-3-months-and-finally-broke-down-and-got-one alarm clock stopped working.  Just stopped.  Like it worked in the morning to wake me up, and by the evening when I went to reset it, it was dead.  No lights,  no sound.  DEAD.

I’ve been itching for something more, not even lately, but forever.  It’s not that I would ever act on the itch, or that I’m not happy with what, or more specifically who I have, but there is the itch, nonetheless. 

I think about my childhood.  I was the kid who traveled the world, literally.  I had flown around the world 3 times by the time I was 16.  I had lived in England and visited several other countries before I even hit my teen years.  I could speak Chinese when I was 5, and I could understand just about any accent latched on to English, no matter how thick. 

In high school I was dreaming about adventure and grandeur.  I was not ready to settle in any area of my life.  I had a hard time deciding what I wanted to do with my life, not for lack of ambition, but rather for the multitude of options the world offered me.  But in my arrogance, I turned my nose up to so many opportunities… –Modeling in Japan, all expenses paid?  Medical school of my choice, tuition paid?  Traveling the world for a living?  Language school in Monteray, California, followed by two years in Paris? –

Even after I joined the military, my dreams were still in world travel and adventure.  My career was supposed to take me to new places, show me new things, give me new stories.  So how did I become the ex-military, divorcee mom living in a town (not a city, but a TOWN) in the US, rarely leaving my state?

Social networking sites like Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter have opened doors for keeping up with those you would have normally lost along the way.  I follow many of my old school-mates, mostly just dropping in to see what they are doing, and I’m jealous.  My best friend in 8th grade is working in China right  now, but her job has taken her all over the world.  A close friend from 9th grade has pictures of Israel and Jerusalem and France and who knows where else filling his virtual albums.  A friend from most of high school just got married, in Spain, in a beautiful Cathedral and several of our other friends were there with her, and she’s now living in Tunisia.  I have friends who graduated from MIT, Cornell, Harvard, Berkley, Stanford, and  NYU, not to mention ones who have gone to college in Europe, all landing fabulous jobs right after.  I have friends who are successful entrepreneurs, growing their dream businesses from nothing to fruitful.  I have friends in most of the major cities in the US, and some of the biggest business and cultural meccas around the world.  They consist of lawyers and doctors and international businessmen and women and engineers and peace corps workers and professional bicyclists and actors and researchers and bank vice presidents and people that work for the Department of State and Amazon.com and .  What the hell happened to me?  And this is why I did not attend my high school reunion…

Many people say things like:  “I can’t imagine life without my kids,” or “I don’t know what I would do without my kids.”  Well, I can and I do.  Does that make me a bad person?  I love my kids unconditionally.  I adore my kids completely.  If given the choice now, I wouldn’t give them up for anything.  And they do make me happy.  But I can still imagine what my life would be like if I had never turned down that road of marriage and mommy-hood.  Well, I can at least imagine myself nestled deeply in each of the few dozen options that the world would once again lay before me. 

I would learn to surf, while living a simple life in a crappy shack on the beach, making next to nothing, but needing even less.  Just me and nature, coming together…

I would see the world, taking pictures of all the beauty it holds, submitting things to publications like National Geographic, needing nothing but some good shoes and my camera…

I would learn to cook, dedicate my time and money to the best culinary school around, working hard to make it through a grueling kitchen while mastering cuisine from around the world…

I would spend months in an Ashram in India, finding my true self, away from the distractions of life…

I would study archeology, making discoveries about past and lost civilizations, finding priceless treasures in knowledge… 

I would finish school, finish grad school, and be anything I wanted to be…

I could help the world…

Of course, I would travel, see everything I’ve always wanted to see, join in with different cultures in different places, revel in the beauty all around us, become a true person of the world, expand myself and my understanding in the world…

I would be me.  Not a mom.  Not simply an extension of another being.  Just me.  Free to do and think and be what I want without the fear of responsibility to another.  I do love my kids and I gladly walk away from my options to be with them now that they are here.  But if they’d never been…

I’ve been meaning to post about my acupuncture experiences since I started them and a recent health study/questionnaire from the VA actually asked about any “alternative health treatments” I’ve sought/received so I figure now is as good a time as any.  The questions have helped me intelligently categorize my treatments with my reasons for seeking treatments, so all the better since my mind is so very unfathomably complex and brilliant (read: totally scattered and muddled) that me just winging it wouldjust cause more confusion, probable headaches, possible seizures…or at the very least banging of your head against the wall to uncross your eyes…

I’ve heard fantastic success stories about all three treatments, but these are just my experiences:

Massage:

First “alternative health treatment” I ever tried was massage.  I’m sure there are millions of people out there who get, or have gotten massages before.  No biggie.  I still haven’t quite deciphered all the different massages: hot stone, deep tissue, reflexology, Swedish, aromatherapy, sports…the list goes on.  I always thought you just go in and someone rubs on your sore spots for a while and then you feel better.  And then I opted for my first deep tissue massage.  OH THE PAIN!  Yeah, came out feeling SO much worse than when I went in.  And during, I was gritting my teeth so hard for the hour so as not to scream that I gave myself a wicked headache.  But I figured that is just how it’s supposed to be.  Yeah, it hurts but it’s all for the best right?

And then I made friend with a wonderful massage therapist (Y) who pointed out the sore error in my thinking.  It doesn’t have to hurt.  As a matter of fact it’s not supposed to hurt if done right.  And she emphasised this point by giving me several deep tissue massages that – are you ready? – didn’t hurt one bit!  And I felt better immediately.  She even took care of the soreness from lifting weights that I had when I was working out.  In my mind, it was as though she placed her hands on the spot that hurt (usually in my upper chest and armpit area – from benching) and then remove her hands and the pain was gone.  Simply fabulous, she is!  She works with the body to eradicate pain, stiffness and soreness.  She is the first (of many) therapists who has actually taken the time to take a physical overview of me prior to the massage (rather than simply asking where it hurts, or what I want her to concentrate on).  She asks about past injury, tender areas, soreness, stiffness, sleeping habits, the whole deal.  THAT is how a massage therapist should work.  It’s a pleasure to see her, every time I see her.  Totally non-invasive with immediate results.  Fantastic!

What massage has done for me (on a much higher and consistent level when I started seeing Y):

• general muscle soreness – alleviated
• mild joint pain – alleviated
• tension headaches – soothed
• sore back/neck/shoulders – well, of course
• insomnia – I was able to fall asleep and stay asleep!
• post-workout sore muscles – completely gone
• general relaxation – well, you knew that part

Reiki:

At Y’s suggestion, I began seeing my “Reiki lady” when things were rough in my life.  I had just started dating Mr. W seriously, but as you may recall we had quite a few ups and downs before we leveled off to the “wonderful” we are now.  I was also still hot and heavy on the battle front with the exmen, so stress was high, and my spirits were low.  You can read about my experiences with her here, and here.  Y also began training in Reiki, and would practice on me from time to time back then, and I’ve gone to see her for treatments a couple times since.  She even gave me a quick, on the spot treatment at work on a particularly bad day.  It was amazing. 

I wasn’t feeling spectacular physically at the time, and emotionally, I was a wreck.  Mr. W had just returned from Iraq, and we weren’t doing well.  I’m sure there were other stresses involved as well.  I just felt heavy.  I felt like there was this thick shadow weighing on me constantly.  I felt as though my head and shoulders were dropped to my knees and that the crying was going to begin any second.  Y ordered me to sit down at her desk (she works in my office) and relax as she placed her hands on my shoulders.  Five minutes later, seriously five minutes later, she removed her hands and it felt in that moment like she had brushed away that shadow and heaviness in that one movement.  The world was literally brighter in my eyes.  My head was higher, and the feeling of tears was completely gone.  Amazing.  It was literally that quick. 

Normally Reiki sessions are 30 or 60  minutes, possibly longer.  For those that don’t know, it is “energy healing.”  The therapist opens him or herself to not only your energy, but also the energy that exists all around us and uses herself as a channel to bring in good energy, healing energy.  Unlike a normal massage, this is done fully clothed, and the therapist may simply place their hands on certain parts of your body, or may not touch you at all.  They seem to focus a lot on the areas of the 7 chakras (tail-bone, lower belly, solar-plexus, mid-chest, throat, forehead, and top of the head) but other areas as well. 

For me, its a lot in the feet, legs, and shoulders.  Some therapists who have been doing it a long time, or are just a little more in-tuned to the world may be able to read other parts of you, or give guidance passed from spirit guides, animal guides, angels, or what have you, depending on what you, or she, believes in.  But whatever you believe, you can’t deny the existence of energies all around and even if a person doesn’t believe in the healing possibilities of energy work, it can’t possibly hurt, so what’s the harm in trying? 

I have sought Reiki massages for:

• depression and anxiety – greatly reduced, more with each successive treatment
• focusing – accomplished
• lifting my spirits - accomplished, with amazing results!
• increasing energy – accomplished at the time
• getting to know myself – yep, that too

One side effect I may have mentioned before is the “floaty” feeling that lingers for awhile (up to 2 hours for me).  As Y describes it, the feeling of “not being in your body.”  Not a bad thing, but something to be aware of if you have plans immediately after. 

Acupuncture:

By far the most intimidating thing I’ve tried so far.  I don’t like needles, and as much as I’ve heard that it doesn’t hurt, seriously, someone is going to put needles in my skin?  How could it not hurt?!  But in the desperation of the “mystery pain” that didn’t respond to any pain meds that would leave me conscious, I succumbed to the hope of feeling even slightly better.  Luckily, tow of my co-workers, Y and the fabulous D, both use acupuncture for pain management, as well as for other things, both see the same practitioner, D on a regular, bi-monthly basis.  So I picked their brains and made an appointment.

My first appointment with SAM (Super-acupuncture-mama) was 2 hours long.  (All subsequent ones have been an hour)  Our first hour together was an introduction period wherein we went over my entire medical history, including the physical, mental, emotional aspects, bowel movements, bladder function, sleep patterns and disturbances, emotional history including divorces, sexual relationships, etc, etc, etc.  She had 3 full, handwritten pages of info on me by the time the hour was up.  Everything.  Yes, I will admit that some of the questions she asked were a little more in depth than I was initially prepared to divulge despite, or maybe due to her very grandmotherly aire… –but I sucked it up and answered truthfully, and I’m glad I did.  She immediately recognized patterns in areas of my life, tied to different channels and meridians in my body.  Even the time of night I woke up fit.  My first visit was prior to my Lyme diagnosis, and after our introduction, the first thing she asked was if I had been tested for Lyme or not.  Hmmm…

The second hour began with her going over the equipment (the needles, metal, solid, thin as a hair, smooth – virtually impossible to catch any fluid even if attempted) and the acupunturing itself.  She then had me disrobe down to my undies and had me lay face down on the table (a normal massage table, you know the one with the hole for your face).  She started with my back and shoulders…about 30 there…and moved on to  my arms, hands, top of my head, legs, upper butt (sciatic nerve) and heels.  I probably had clover 50 needles in me total, and although I was a little anxious about whether or not I could move at all lest I dislodge one, or worse, stab myself (incorrectly), I didn’t feel a thing once they were all in.  Seriously.  I wouldn’t lie.  If there were 50 total, about 5 of them stung a little when inserted (like a mild mosquito bite), I felt a slight pressure of her inserting about 10 of them (zero pain), and the rest I didn’t feel anything at all.  Nothing.  Really, I felt nothing.  And as I said before, once they were all in, I couldn’t even concentrate on a spot that I knew there was a needle and feel it.  NOTHING!  All fears dispelled.

As far as after effects, SAM explained that I may not feel anything for a couple days.  There is a possibility of slight (small, 1/4 inch diameter) bruising, but that occurs more with older folks.  Other than that, I was a little foggy from the short nap I got in during the treatment period.  But two days later, no pain.  For four days straight.  Now, I had been in constant pain (averaging between 5 and 8 on the pain scale) for about 3 weeks with no relief, ever.  And those four days were glorious.  But the pain came back.  I’ve been seeing SAM weekly now for a month and I am virtually pain free.  There are flickers here and there, a little soreness or stiffness at times, but nothing even remotely close to what I was feeling before.

Other things she is working on for me:

• emotional well-being (anger and occasional weepiness) – greatly reduced
• waking up at 3am – done
• waking up at 1am – done
• other general insomnia – greatly reduced
• headaches – haven’t had one in weeks
• allergies – reduced slightly
• joint pain, stiffness – greatly reduced

And yesterday I mentioned my cold, and tendency for getting 2-week long colds every month during the winter and she not only promised a combination of acupuncture and Chinese herbs would make this my best-feeling winter ever, but she also got rid of the head stuffiness, reduced the watery, stinging eyes and runny nose, and eradicated the waves of nausea I was having earlier in the day.  Yea!

Note: I know it is very important to drink plenty of water after a massage or Reiki treatment (I do after acupuncture as well, just in case) due to the release of toxins into your body.  Massage releases all those acids that cause most of the muscle pain, especially post workout and you really don’t want that stuff just sitting in your body.  The water helps to flush it out before it can sit in your kidneys or elsewhere.  It probably isn’t a bad idea to drink water before as well, unless you are like me and will need to pee shortly there after.  It’s hard to get in that relaxing place while doing the pee-pee dance after all.

Because I’m not actually in my head right now as it is so completely stuffed with whatever your head is stuffed with when you have a stuffy head, I give you a converstation (or possibly a couple conversations) going on in my office right now:

“We need to have an intervention.”

“…and he becomes the alpha male.”

“He, like, lived in someone’s trashcan.”

“Is it filled up with fuel?”

“Well, you could set up a hot dog stand.”

“There’s a dynamic balance involving the hot dog stand.”

“By all means.”

“I just got Farkled.”

“You’re about two days ahead of me.”

“It’s that bad Karma.”

“That’s just like running me over, then backing back over me to see if I’m alright.  Just slow the f#@& down.”

“Freakin’ Farkle!”

“It’s like taking the sucker right out of a kids hand.  He’s not even doing the bait and switch anymore.”

“I just Farkled out.”

Yeah, that’s where I work.

Today the boy is belt testing for his white belt in Tae Kwon Do!  I’m such a proud mama.  Ok, yeah, I realize everybody gets their white belt, but it’s still a big deal.  I mean, it’s a big deal for him in his mind, so it’s a big deal for me, and by virtue of you reading these words it has to be a big deal for you.  Of course everyone I tell has to go and point out the fact that everyone just gets a white belt, no actual skill needed.   You know, basically peeing all over my proud mama moment.  Even Mr. W made the comment that this is what ex#1 was objecting to, it is kind of a crock.  Yeah, it’s bad juju when your fiancee is agreeing with your ex in contradiction to you.  Bad juju indeed!  That must be why I’m feeling like crap today.  Seriously.  It’s connected.  I just know it.

On a high note, I feel like regular crap, not Lymie crap (or is it Lymee, or perhaps Lymey, or simply Lymi…my English ancestors are totally rolling in their graves right now!).  Anyway.  I’ve got a head cold (not the earlier hoped for reaction to 8 lbs of dust inhalation) that is undoubtedly going to slide down into a chest cold.  But that is normal.  Except for the extremely hot summer that is still going on… so I’m feeling positive about feeling like crap in this particular case.  Not in pain, at the moment.  And not incredibly tired, so that’s all good.  But the doc is convinced I should still feel like crap, so I’m sure this is all short lived.  Way to go doc.  Even if I was feeling better you have successfully convinced my twisted mind that something should be wrong so something will invariably feel wrong very soon.  Thanks.  All this after 2 hours of waiting room action. Nice.  Seriously, if he weren’t so super nice, and the best Lyme doc in the area, I would totally have to move on.  2 hours people!  That’s just craziness!

In other thoughts:

• I’m really missing Mr. W right now.
• I hate breathing through my mouth.  Ewww, I’m a creepy mouth-breather!
• I can’t type to save my life right now.  Seriously, it took me eleven tries to complete this sentence.
• My best bud at work is on vaca so I’m totally lonely here now.
• And even though breathing is enough of a chore right now, I’m still a dumbass who’s smoking.

And there you have it!  My peed-on mama pride, combined with the mucus in my chest and head apparently blocking the oxygen to my brain, combined with the cold medicine I took this morning that totally isn’t working, combined with the umpteen other chemicals/supplements/medicines that I take daily, combined with the leftover buzz of last night’s NyQuil (yeah, I’m a total light-weight.  What?  It doesn’t have alcohol in it anymore you say?  Well, that’s just how much of a lightweight I am!), combined with my probable Lymie (Lymy, Lymey, Lymee…) brain-fog that I’m just too gone to notice has left me in a place that is totally random, ramble-y, and pretty much useless.  Yea, me!