oneofthosedays

Show me your teeth

You guys.

YOU GUYS.

Ugh. I have had a number of root canals over the years. I try to take care of my teeth, but this is just the way they are. I don’t remember how many i’ve actually had, but I just had another and it was the THIRD ONE where the freezing wouldn’t take all the way.  Jesus take the wheel.

I’m no tough girl when it comes to pain. If something hurts, I want it to stop. And tooth pain? *shudder* THE WORST. Any kind of nerve pain brings me to my knees.

All that to say, I’ve had a lot of therapy in my life due to my mental issues, and that shit comes in handy. I’m able to breathe, self-talk and work my way through stuff. And also, I don’t blame the dental personnel for the problem. They are tryign to help me, and don’t want to hurt me, but may have to in order to make me feel better. My options were:

1: Wait another half hour for the freezing. At that point, it had been two hours and I’m like, BRO (YOUNG BRO – so YOUNG!! omg, I’m older than all my dentists now), half an hour ain’t gonna help.

2: Send me home with more antibiotics and hope they help whatever is happening and I can come back and it will work. Oh, young dentist. Bless your heart. You don’t realize this is my third go-round with freezing that won’t work.

Option 3 – just go in, do the work and hope for the best.

At that point it had been two hours of trying to freeze me and about 8-12 needles to the mouth. I lost count. I saw no other option than 3 – let’s GET ‘ER DONE. I said, I don’t think this will get better. I think option 3 sucks, but we gotta do it. and then it will get better. (me internally crying.).

This dude was trying so hard to be positive, but he knew it woudl suck too. He tried to give me a pep talk before he started. He was like, “Okay, so we’re going to go in and hopefully this will be…..”

He trailed off and I could tell he was coming up blank, not sure how to reassure me for something he knew would hurt and be unpleasant.

“QUICK,” I blurted. “THE WORD YOU’RE LOOKING FOR IS QUICK.”

He  gave me a nervous smile and said, “Yes. I hope this will be quick.”

He was – they were all super nice to me and efficient and though it was hella unpleasant, they did good work.

I *think* I’m on the mend now. My lower jaw is pretty fucking unhappy with me and sore, but BETTER. I CAN THINK NOW. I CAN PROCESS INFORMATION.

For those of you that struggle with chronic pain – you are far stronger and tougher people than I am. I pray for and salute you.

 

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The Post-Squee blues

oh, internets.

I mentioned in my last post that I have a yearly get-together with some friends. We sit. We talk. We laugh. We bond.

And then, we have to leave. And we get the post squee blues.

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Oh, How I miss my squee people!

i’m so lucky to have such people in my life that understand me and are creative and ‘get’ how my brain works. Squee weekend is a time I get to hang out with those people 24-7, have fun and feel safe and understood. To go from that to the real world…. LOOOOOOONNNNNNNGGGGG SIIIIIIGHHHHHHHH

I’m  lucky to have these people in the first place. At times, I feel selfish and self-centered to want them year round!

other times, I’m angry and mad that having my squee crew on the regular is not the norm! HOW DARE THE WORLD FUNCTION THIS WAY!!???

Mostly, though, I just wish I were back in the conference room, at the  Grenville residence Inn, drinking coffee and sitting with my people, wondering if someone should make a run to the Bi-Low for wine or chips to get us through the night.

*flops on the floor dramatically*

*SIGHS*

 

 

 

Face Palm [with a side helping of Social Anxiety]

So.

I used to get emailed when someone commented on my blog and I guess that’s not working or I turned it off or something. Anyway. I’m really sorry to the people who commented and only heard back from me today! Epic fail.

Side note – Social Anxiety. Ugh, I know it makes no sense but when I saw there were comments my first thought was, “OH! COMMENTS! YAY!” and then when I realized how old they were my second thought was “OH SHIT! OH NOES. NOW PEOPLE THINK I’M IGNORING THEM AND IT’S SO RUDE. Is it too late to reply back? But not replying back at all is even ruder! okay, it’s okay. It’s an honest mistake! but how did I miss this? oh shit. Okay, okay. WHAT DO I DO. Do I reply back? Do I do a mass post and say I saw them and I’m sorry? I’ll just reply back, and apologize. It’s fine. but SO LATE.” And then I imagined hiding in my bed for a while with the covers over my head. I couldn’t actually do that because, you know, JOB and GROCERIES and LAUNDRY and shit. But…. I thought about it. It’s time’s like this that I identify with Lola’s worried face:

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If you don’t have social anxiety, you’re probably frowning and wondering how/why a person can get so worked up over this. but if you DO have social anxiety, you’re nodding your head and also feeling a little sick in your own stomach because you’ve have had similar experiences and it’s. the. worst.

I’ve been working on my social anxiety for a long time. A LONG TIME. But it’s still there, and likely always will be. And it just… gets set off by stuff. It was set off yesterday by being at an appointment and it was SUPER busy and there were all these PEOPLE and I could just FEEL the anticipation and impatience of the waiters, and the receptionist was working hard but I felt like there was also waves of “I KNOW IT’S CRAZY BUSY JUST CHILLAX” coming off him, and all those things together with me being at a new place was just…  I almost left. But. Deep breaths. And an internal monologue of, “stay the hell put. you booked this appointment now WAIT. You’re fine. it’s fine. EVERYONE IS FINE,” kept me there. And it all worked out.

 

 

The family that doesn’t really fight together?

My sister and I consider ourselves pretty funny. Okay, we consider ourselves REALLY funny. We sometimes joke that we should have our own reality show – the problem is, it would be 98% complete and utter boredom rounded off with 2% comedic brilliance.

We don’t exactly DO a lot of stuff.

And when those WACKY shenanigans DO happen, we’re sometimes too dry and nonplussed for what would be considered DRAMATIC REALITY TV. We also don’t really fight with each other. Or rather, if we do fight, it’s a cold war – everyone knows there are nukes, but no one is quite willing to be the one to set them off.

But mostly, we just get along. Even when things go pear-shaped

Take for example my burned fingers on Tuesday of last week. I burned them BADLY on the lawnmower. If this was a reality show, there would have been TEARS. AUDIBLE SOBBING. FRANTIC TRIP TO THE ER. TENSE MUSIC. EMOTIONAL UPHEAVAL. WOULD I EVER PLAY THE CELLO AGAIN???? WHAT ABOUT MY WRITING CAREER? WOULD I NEVER BE ABLE TO GET A MEDICAL DEGREE AND JOIN DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS???

What happened instead was, I ran for the cold water, soaked it and then decided this was not helping Jenge mow the lawn, so I held a cold piece of rock-gravel against the burn while we finished mowing the lawn.  Okay Jenge did the mowing. I watched and offered moral support, frantically dashing to get another rock when the one was holding wasn’t cold enough anymore. But I did help empty the bag! with my one good hand! We’d already started the lawn! It needed to be done! The next day was garbage day and I wanted to get that grass in there!.

Then we had a lackluster trip to the Shoppers Drug Mart for First Aid supplies [What about this one? No, I think that’s for sunburns. This one? Well, I think that’s just the no-name brand of this. Should we ask the pharmacist? IDK, that seems like a long line) and only when THAT didn’t to work, did we go to the Urgent Care center. Which is ANYTHING BUT URGENT. It was, like, 3 hrs of my sis and I sitting there on our phones for me to finally get called into the back and then for a nurse to finally say all they were going to do was put polysporin on it and send me home (REALLY WISH THEY’D SAID THAT WHEN I CHECKED IN). And then I STILL didn’t see a doctor! Actually that’s not true. One came in and said, “What have we here?” and I said “Burned fingers” and he said, “Are you Shelly?” and I said “No” and he left and I never saw another doctor again. After 3 hrs and then hearing the nurse say they would just bandage it and put poly on it, I checked myself out and had to sign an AMA [Against Medical Advice] form.

Then we went out to Jenge’s car and CLICK CLICK SPUTTER.

Again, in reality TV land, the car not starting at 10.30 at night after 3 hrs at Urgent care would be met with SHOUTING. CRIES OF OUTRAGE. SHOCKED FACES. WOULD WE NOT MAKE IT TO THE RANSOM DROP IN TIME? WAS SOMETHING RIGGED TO OUR CAR TO EXPLODE?

We turned and looked at each other. I shrugged. Jenge turned the key again and then she shrugged. She pushed the button on her radio. I pushed the button on the radio. She said, “I’ve been good to this car. Dammit. I took it for all it’s service appointments. I JUST GOT THE LETTER TODAY THAT SAID IT WAS PAID OFF.”

Me: Like, today-today?

Jenge: Like at 4pm today. I just opened it and was all happy it was finally paid off. It’s still sitting on the table. Figures. BASTARDS.

Me: That’s shitty. [clutches gauze to my fingertips – they still aren’t bandaged because I was going to do that AT HOME]

Jenge: [presses overhead light that won’t turn off now]: ugh. Do you have AMA?”

ME: [presses same light that jenge just pressed] No but I can sign you up online right now.

Jenge: Yeah.

Me: Well, we’ll call Darren [our bro in law], I guess.

Jenge: [shrugged again]: “Yeah. I guess so.”

So we called him. And he came out. There was no hollering. No shouting. No, “YOU BETTER GET HERE AND HELP US.” No GNASHING OF TEETH. The conversation was sorta like

Me: Um, Darren? You up?

Darren: Yeah, what’s up?

ME: We’re at the urgent care center and Jenge’s car won’t start. Can you come down?

Darren: Yep.

Me: We’re not sure what it is. Maybe we just need a boost. OR should we call AMA?

Darren: I’ll come down and take a look and then we’ll see. Be about ten minutes.

Me: Thanks, man.

Pretty anticlimactic.

So maybe we DON’T deserve our own reality show. At least, not on network TV. PBS? Can you only get a reality show if you fight desperately and meanly with your family?

Weighty Issues

Internets, I try to be positive but sometimes, I just need a good rant. There’s gonna be language below. STRONG OPINIONS. Those with delicate sensibilities should avert their eyes.

Let’s talk about weight.

I’m overweight. Chubby. You could even say the f-word – Fat. I’ve struggled with my weight my entire life. Consequently, I know a metric fuck ton about weight loss and calories and metabolisms and working out.

Let’s face it: if you want to know about weight and how it all works, don’t ask a thin person – someone who’s been fit their whole life. Ask a fat person. I GUARANTEE the fat person will know more. You can disagree, you’d be wrong.

This week my FAT BUTTONS got pushed when I was speaking with someone about weight and this person proceed to spout off that all people needed to do was burn as many calories as they ate. This person said that he/she burned ‘at least 5000 calories a day’ by moving and so could I if I chose.

CLEARLY THIS PERSON DID NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WEIGHT LOSS. After talking more it turned out that they also never really liked sweets and always preferred vegetables anyway.

So yeah. KNOWS NOTHING. perhaps is lucky by nature to be the kind of eater that promotes a healthy weight, but in terms of knowledge, isn’t knowledgeable. But! Because they are slender, they are seen as ‘an expert.’

So, what would I, a 37 year old woman who weights BLAH BLAH BLAH [sweet Jesus you didn’t think I would put my weight down did you??] have to do a day to burn 5000 calories? According to my research [google I love you] SEVERAL HOURS OF EXERCISE. So, if I had say, 5 hrs to kill and an elliptical trainer and I went ALL  OUT for those FIVE HOURS, I could expect to burn 3500 calories. ALL OUT FOR FIVE HOURS ON AN ELLIPTICAL TRAINER.

You let me know if you have that kind of time and I want your day job.

Now! Let’s talk about LIES THE WEIGHT LOSS WORLD HAS TOLD ME AND OR USELESS ‘TIPS’ in every mag out there:

1. Are you feeling hungry? Drink water! You may just actually be thirsty! – I drink 2 litres of water a day. I’m pretty sure I’m fucking hungry. So hungry I feel sick. And the more water I drink  the MORE NOTHING ABOUT THAT CHANGES.

2. Eat some veggies if you’re hungry! – I did. I was hungry 20 minutes later. You fuckers. And my tummy hurts because raw veg are tough on me, but I don’t carry a steamer around to blanch them a bit so if I want to eat veg on the go, it’s raw or bust.

3. Make sure you get protein at every meal! – listen, I have the BEST diet of people I know. I’ve seen a nutritionist to help me ensure that I’m getting all I need. I’m still hungry like a MOFO 70% of the day.

4. Eat every few hours to keep your metabolism going – I DO. Still hungry folks.

5. Cut out those sugary drinks! Full of empty calories – I DID. WHEN I WAS 17. TWENTY YEARS AGO.

6. GET MORE SLEEP – Uh, listen. there’s a limited number of hours in the day and I already go to bed at 11 and get up at 5.45 REGULARLY. I’m pretty strict with my sleep schedule. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to fit MORE SLEEP in.

7. LIFT WEIGHTS – I  DO.

8. I’M JUST RANDOMLY CAPSLOCKING NOW BECAUSE TALKING ABOUT WEIGHT ALWAYS MAKES ME ANGRY

9. Throw that scale out! – Everyone I know that has done this GAINS weight. It’s the WORST advice out there. I don’t need to get rid of the scale, I need to manage my reaction to it. Getting rid of a scale is like…. Telling me to get rid of my hammer because I don’t like hammering nails, but then telling me the nails still have to be hammered in. You’ve pretty much just crippled my ability to do anything. and now I feel worse about it.

10. After a couple weeks, you’ll find working out is a habit you just don’t want to break – LIARS! I did a bootcamp for TWO YEARS [LOVED My trainer and my fellow work out people], I worked out with a personal trainer [Liked my trainer, saw results] for a YEAR – I still don’t like it. It’s STILL a struggle to do. I’m just not a person who enjoys working out. I’ve found stuff I like to do as far as exercise goes [dancing, ballet, cardio aerobics] but I still have to grit my teeth to get started. EVERY TIME. I don’t like it. And let me state for the record, that I really did have the BEST bootcamp trainer out there. Her name was Michelle. SHE WAS AWESOME. She worked us HARD but she was SO GREAT About it. I never had a fitness person motivate me positively before while still getting me to work as hard as I could, but she did. So it wasn’t that I had a bad experience. I loved Michelle! She was great! I still don’t like working out.

The whole weight thing always makes me want to just… stomp around and yell and hit things. It’s one of the few things in my life that makes me angry, upset, irrational, anxious, embarrassed and self-righteous all at once. I’ve been fighting my weight since I was 9 [that I can remember] and I’ll be fighting it until I die. It’s exhausting. I don’t even know how to wrap this post up. I wish I had some silver-lining advice or zen-like realization that I’ve come to. All I know is it’s all-consuming and if I didn’t have to worry/agonize over my weight, I feel like so much of my brain would be freed up to work on other things.

 

 

Monday. . .sigh

So far today: I have run out of windsheild washer fluid (and it’s a bad day for that), had an electrical malfunction in my car (which now has to go to the mechanics tonight), had a parking meter fail, spent 40 minutes on hold with the parking authority, returned back to my car to find a parking ticket (and now I’ll have to call those fascists back!), the power went out here – it caused my database to corrupt itself, now I’m trying to restore 20000 records and it’s slow going.

sniff.