Monthly Archives: April 2014

Technology hop

I like technology. It was my career for many years, so I understand how it has a role in our lives. I enjoy technology, to a degree. But I am not fanatical about technology. I do not want to run out and buy the latest and greatest…and in fact, I often resist that because I don’t want to have to learn things all over again. Eventually, it is likely that I will embrace the new technology, but in time. I am a thinker, an evaluator, and I need time.

I have a cell phone that I bought in 2008, that I love. Guys, no joke, I love this phone. It’s perfect for me, and it does everything I need it to do. For the first, oh, three years or so, I only used it to make calls. Literally. Then we added text messaging to our service, and all the sudden I was texting like a fiend…to Hub. No one else, because why would I need to text anyone? I worked at home and I could always email or instant message. I never saw a need to have data (we had it turned off on our service) or to browse the web while out. Waiting room at the doctor’s office (which was mostly what I went out to and had a need to wait), I sat quietly and WAITED.

Here’s my phone…

Isn’t it cute? It flips closed, it’s compact and fits into the smallest purse I have. I made my own ringtones from music I love, I have pictures attached to each phone number! What’s not to love? No data costs, it holds a battery charge FOREVER, and takes no time to charge when I need it to. The calls are crisp and clear, it has a speaker phone when I need it, and the keyboard is REAL. I can touch it and type on it like a mo-fo. I love my phone. If it were up to me, I’d never upgrade. I’d never let it go. I’d use it until it stopped working and then I’d hunt ebay to replace it.

But nooooooooooooo. Hub comes to me and says, “We need new phones.” So I tell him to get himself a new phone and leave me outta that mess. But he says if he upgrades (his phone is only slightly newer than mine), he has to get a new plan with Sprint because all the new phones require data. And then my part of the plan will be kaput. So I tell him to suck it, we’re not getting new phones because I’m not getting rid of my phone. And then he tells me the speaker on his phone is broken…he can only take and make calls on his bluetooth ear piece, and he isn’t going to work like that. Pfffffft. So it’s MY fault his phone is broken? So I try to convince him to get another “dumb” phone so I can keep my phone and our current plan, but he’s not falling for it. I don’t get it, because he already carries TWO smart phones (in addition to his current dumb phone) that are paid for by his employers. So why does he have to have ANOTHER smart phone that WE have to pay for? Why, I ask you! WHY? And then he reminds me that my father has been complaining that HIS phone isn’t working right either (for months, actually), and we share a family plan with my parents.

We’ve known about my father’s phone issue for months, and Hub has been having intermittent problems for a while, too. But when we started discussing upgrading phones and plan, we started talking about switching carriers. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to switch carriers? More importantly, what a royal pain in the ass it is to decipher phone plans these days? We researched changing carriers probably four times in the last year, but always gave up because trying to figure out the plans (and costs) was too hard. Now, Hub was telling me, it had to be done.

So we researched again, and even went to a real live store to get the lowdown in plain English. But I hated all the phones. They’re all freaking smart phones and I cannot stand those virtual keyboards. I like the feel of a real keyboard, texture and shape and click. They had two “slide” phones with keyboards, but they got horrible reviews and were actually kind of expensive. So I tried to look at some smart phones, but in addition to the stupid keyboard issue, they’re also all SO Big. I carry a TINY purse, ya’ll. It’s like 4.25″ high and less than 3.25″ wide and 2.25″ deep…no joke.


I spent the majority of my life carrying HUGE purses with the intention of having everything I might need. Then I realized that I wanted to just be able to go out with a couple of credit cards, my phone, and my keys. I didn’t intend for that to be an all the time thing, but it morphed into that. And my cute little phone fit right into my cute little purse. But the new phones? They’re so big, I don’t think they’ll fit into my tiny purse. So now not only do I have to pick a phone I don’t want, but I have to go through the hassle of trying to find a new purse…ugh.

Anyway, after perusing the options at the AT&T store we went to (they have a pretty flexible family plan), we announced to my parents that we were taking them to the store to pick out new phones. And then my brother (who lives with them) tells us that he gets a discount through his work for AT&T, which is why he uses AT&T. So we all five of us tromp back to the AT&T store with the expectation that we’re going to let my brother convert his plan to a family plan, and then add the four of us to his discounted plan. Bonus, HE’LL get the bills for my parents from here forward, which Hub and I have been doing (and mostly paying for) for the last 8 years or so. (Every now and then my dad would recall that he needed to pay us and he’d write us a check, but their phones were “add-on” lines, so it wasn’t a huge cost for us.) So here are all five of us in the store, my father grumping about buying a new “dumb” phone (no smart phone for him) and have to move all his contacts and how the new phone won’t fit his old clip and blah blah. And my mother (who had a baby-smart phone that she hardly did anything with) started looking at an iPhone! In the end, my mom took my brother’s old phone (which is like 6 months old) so he could get an upgraded phone, my dad picked out a dumb flip-phone that looks exactly like what he has now, Hub picked out a fancy new metal phone, and I was prepared to pick out the smallest smart phone with the longest battery life (I’d researched this at home). Only problem was, my phone was no longer on the display in the store. WTF. It’s a pretty recent phone, and it was there ten days before when Hub and I went researching. So I asked and the sales associate looked at me like she’d never heard of such a phone in her entire career (of probably ten minutes). So she went to ask someone else who said they didn’t have those in the store anymore and they’d have to order it off the web for me. WHAT?!

We spend a good two hours in the store (moving phone lines from one carrier to another is apparently really hard, ya’ll) as they attempt to take care of getting everyone’s new phone setup and activated and configured. Me? I get nothing. I leave the store with nothing…but my good old purple LG Lotus. My new smart phone is being sent to the house sometime next week. I get another week of my cute little purple flowered phone and my cute little tiny black purse. After that, it’s smart phone central for me. I’m not even putting up a picture of my new phone. It’s a boring smart phone with no personality, no real keyboard, and really expensive data plan. And all I want to do is make phone calls and text. Pffft. I’m hoping to figure out how to TURN OFF data so I don’t accidentally spend extra money on data I don’t need or want to use.

I might have to put my old phone into a frame and put it on the wall once it gets turned off permanently. So sad.


Posted by on April 29, 2014 in anxiety, change, family, hub


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Control and choice

My mom was diagnosed with uterine cancer. She is 73 years old. Her experiences with doctors and tests and surgeries and anesthesiologists and diagnostics are limited. She dealt with some of this with my grandfather when he got cancer, and then some when my grandmother became ill. She dealt with it when I got sick, too. But always as an outsider, as the support system. Now, it’s a first-person experience for her, and she hates it. I can’t blame her, I know how it sucks…to a point, of course. I know the on-going tests, the waiting, the appointments, the waiting, the doctor’s offices, the waiting, the results. The questions, the lack of answers, the run-around. The lack of information.

Mom told my brothers what was going on a couple of hours after she told me, mostly because they all work and she didn’t want to call them while they were at work. I’ve since spoken to one of my brothers, who is really the one who questions everything. The one who challenges everything. The other two have not spoken to me yet, but I’m sure we’ll talk at some point. But the one brother, he’s already asking questions, challenging things, doing research. And I’m not.

I’ve asked my mother questions, but when she answers them I accept what she says. I don’t challenge her, I don’t challenge her doctor. And I am not doing research. I feel like I’m doing something wrong by not doing research. Every hour I try to remind myself that I’m not a doctor and I’m not G-d. I cannot affect the outcome of this situation, I can only try to affect the journey. I can support, I can listen, I can do the laundry and cook dinner, I can grocery shop, I can drive to appointments and/or go with them to appointments. I can pick up medications, I can help clean, I can take care of Cray-cray Lab. I cannot affect the cancer, I cannot affect the surgery, I cannot affect the doctors and how they perform. I can pray, I can hope, I can do the things I can do. I can make the choice to be in the current space with myself (and/or my mother), and not spend that amount of time wondering, researching, worrying, being anxious, feigning control.

I am in the moment. And the moments feel helpless. I feel helpless. The other things I am not doing–the illusion of control–at least made me feel like I was doing something. This not doing, it’s hard. This accepting that I cannot affect change in the cancer, it’s hard. And it hurts to accept that I cannot affect change in the cancer for my mom. This is not to say I am not able to help (see above) in other ways, but I want to do more.

My mother is a woman of faith. A woman of no regrets. A woman of strength. In the good days, in the bad days. It’s easy to have faith, no regrets, and strength in the good days. It is the measure of a person to have that same faith, lack of regret, and strength in the bad days. I choose to follow in her footsteps as best I can. I am awed by her every day.

I choose to be in these moments of helplessness. I choose to be in these moments of fear. I choose to be in these moments of faith. I choose to be in these moments of strength. I choose to be in these moments of no regrets. I choose to be in these moments of love. I choose to be in these moments with my mom. I choose them all now because I may not have these opportunities again.



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I’m struggling hard right now.

You all know my mom has had some health issues recently. About ten days ago, she went in for a test. Today the doctor called her to tell her she has uterine cancer. Even typing that makes me feel sick. I came home from PT around 2pm, and by then I knew she would have had her phone call from the doctor with the test results. I had a bad feeling on and off all morning, but chalked it up to me just looking for something to worry about. But when I got home and I called to see what the results were, she told me it wasn’t good. And then she said the doctor said the pathology said uterine cancer, and they wanted to move forward with a hysterectomy sooner rather than later.

I held up on the phone call, and I assured her I was okay. I assured her that we would be here to take care of her, of my father, of their dog while she is in the hospital. They said they expected her to be in the hospital 3-4 days, barring anything unforeseen. We don’t know yet if they are considering laproscopic surgery, but I assume if they are saying 3-4 days, it won’t be laproscopic. But 3-4 days in the hospital–with my dad at her side and my brother at work most of the day–someone has to take care of Cray-cray Lab (and our dogs). I’ll do it, it’s no question…but it means I won’t be able to be with her at the hospital, too, while she’s recovering. Hub has already said he’ll take the day off of her surgery to watch all 3 dogs while I’m with my dad at the hospital. My uncle (her brother) and my aunt will likely be there with us, too. And when she comes home, I’ll be here to help them, too. It’s why we live so close…for which I continue to be eternally grateful.

One part of my brain is settled…yes, we’ll handle this. Yes, I’ll be there for my dad during the surgery…yes, I’ll be there to help Mom with what she needs. One part of my brain is … whirring. Like someone gave it a gallon of Red Bull. And I feel like a junky with regards to Google. I want so much to go search everything. Uterine cancer. The surgery. The recovery. Will there be chemo? Radiation? What’s the success rate and the is this the kind of cancer that spreads? What is the long-term prognosis? What about the doctor? Is he good? The surgeon he coordinates with for this kind of surgery? What’s his deal? The hospital? What about heredity? Is uterine cancer hereditary like they say breast cancer is? My fingers itch. My brain itches.

After my mother called to tell me and I assured her I was okay, I hung up the phone and cried. I cried because I’m afraid of what if… Because this is my mom. Because I can’t do anything. Because I don’t know what to do first. I kept reminding myself to be in the moment, what is happening right now that needs to be dealt with. I changed my clothes, I ate a snack, I tried to trim Le Moo’s paws (did front two, then she ran off and wouldn’t let me do the back paws), I went outside and cleaned up poop. Then Hub got home and he hugged me. And since then he’s been working on stuff for his office and I’ve been itching. Avoiding my laptop because I was afraid that the minute I touched it, I would go Google.

I’m touching the laptop and I’m not Googling. But the urge is so bad… It won’t help me; I know it won’t help me. It will make this worse. And as I consider the “what if” game, the thought of taking that to it’s worst end is almost horrifying to me. I don’t want to play that. I don’t want to talk to my brothers when they find out (and call me to talk). I want to be calm. I want to be strong. I will find ways to do those things for my Mom and Dad. But here in the now, I am so afraid.

I feel rambling and out of it. I’m really writing this for me, for my record of what is happening in my life. I’m not Googling. I’m not going to. Googling things won’t change the outcome of what is going to be….because it will be what it will be. And right now, I need to be in my right brain to help where I can, with what I can. Which means supporting my parents and taking care of the home front. Those things I CAN do. I can’t change the outcome of the surgery or the cancer.

I still feel sick and afraid. And I’m sad. And I want people to understand that “sad” does not mean “clinically depressed.” I want my family to understand that I can be afraid and sad in this kind of situation…but that it’s not panic, anxiety, or depression. If ever there was a situation for sad and afraid (and even a little panic), it would be this one.



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My brain, his brain, no brain…


So for many many many years, we have been running a web server and mail server for our immediate family (parents, siblings) and for some family businesses. This started with one of my brothers, who had the experience to set this up for the family, but not much of the interest to maintain the server. Even so, he set it up, and taught Hub and me how to do the work. Both Hub and I are computer people (our careers…his still, mine in the past), so the knowledge was good for us. It was also good because when my brother wasn’t interested in doing the maintenance, Hub and I did it. And when I started my publishing company, we used the server to host the website and run the store and do all that good stuff. The responsibility for the server became ours. And about seven years ago, the company sprang for new, more professional hardware, that Hub and I set up. And maintained. And we took on a friend as a client, hosting their company’s website as well.

Now, with the publishing company closed and the need for such major hardware no long required, we began talking about downgrading. The cost for hosting the server is pretty high, and our needs as a family were pretty low. Additionally, the hardware we had was getting old (in the grand scheme of computer parts), and we’d been lucky to not really experience any issues up until now. We (collectively as a family) decided to go ahead and downgrade to something smaller and easier. It was really more a decision on Hub’s and my part, because we’re the one doing the setup and maintenance and we’re the one who will have to deal with a third party if we no longer have our own hardware. But the benefit of not having to deal with hardware upkeep has outranked the negative of having to deal with a third party.

Okay. So that brain v. brain part? I’ve been spending the last week working on getting websites moved, including blogs and stores, which requires databases. So not only did I have to install and configure software, I had to export and import data. Not the easiest of tasks and really time-consuming. But I did it as methodically as I possibly could. Meanwhile, Hub’s job was to install and configure users and email (and anti-spam software). Me, a week’s worth of work. Hub, he spent four hours on it today. Then, when he decided he was tired of working and stopped…and he told me to stop, but I continued. And then I fucked up something big. And now we can’t get into the server to do anything anymore. And no access to tech support for the provider until Monday.

Hub yelled at me for “not listening” to him. Because when he says to stop working, everything should come to a halt. Because when his brain requires a break, so should everyone else’s. Because when his brain needs to reset for another day, everyone else’s brain should too. Only I don’t work that way. And neither does my brain. I need to keep working at a steady progress until my brain says “stop now.” If I stop to wait for another day, I’ll forget everything I’ve done, everything I’ve tried to make something work, and everything I wanted to try to get that something to work. I come up against a brick wall and that makes me even more determined to break through the wall. Hub comes up against a brick wall and decides that the wall is probably pretty thick and maybe another day the wall won’t be as thick and maybe another day and the wall might just disappear. It’s different paths, and that’s fine. Unless you’re Hub, who thinks his path is the only path for everyone.

So when I broke the server? He yelled at me. And I yelled at him. And we yelled back and forth. Then we sat down and had dinner. A really quiet, quiet dinner.

After dinner, we tried to circumvent the stuff I broke, without success, only to find out about an hour later that the only way to fix what I broke (maybe) was to contact tech support and ask them to fix it. Only to find out another hour later that tech support is only open Monday – Friday. Which means tomorrow is a lost day for me.

I work at a determined pace for a reason. There are times when I can function and times when I can’t. Times when the function is high and times when the fog is too dense for me to concentrate. So when I’m able to work, I work a lot, and for long, straight hours, until I finish or until I can’t push any further. Hub doesn’t have that issue. He’s pretty normal, and doesn’t have physical or mental challenges like that. When he has to work, he can sit down and do it. (Does he? Not always. He’s a procrastinator and he has ADD. And even when something HAS to be done, he doesn’t always get to it. But I digress…) I’m not like that. I can’t always sit down and do when it needs to be done. So when I can do, I make extensive use of my time.

I’m itching to do more tomorrow. If I could figure out how to convince him to let me start from scratch tomorrow on my part of the work, I would do it. But he’s already clamped down tonight and warned that he’s not going to do anything until he hears from tech support…maybe on Monday. Pffft.

Sometimes we work really well together on this kind of stuff, and sometimes really really not. And when it’s not, it’s really really not. Really really really.


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What’s broken?

I start my post with this statement: I love my husband. A lot. This is not in question.

Okay, we got that out of the way, right? So now for the rant.

Hub and I went out to dinner tonight, which is a rare thing for us because of my wheat/gluten issues. There are a few restaurants we still go to, most of which offer gluten free options that I can pick from. Pretty much 90% of those places will end up offering you a plate of food without any seasoning, gravy, sauce…flavor. The food is plain and bland. I find it offensive to go out and pay for food like that, so my preference is to stay home. The only place I go to that does not specifically offer gluten free options is a local BBQ joint that has beef ribs on the menu. I’m a sucker for beef ribs. I try to eat the same thing every time I go there, and I always end up getting flushed and uncomfortable, but it’s manageable. I don’t even tell Hub that I’m getting a reaction, because he is so happy there is a place for me to eat beef ribs, I can’t spoil it for him.

That was totally a tangent. So we went to dinner, made a stop after dinner, then we were in the car heading home. Among conversation, up came the topic of my therapy. Not PT, but my mental health therapy. And I said to him, “Do you see a difference in me?”

Dead fucking silence. We have been through this conversation before, but this time I didn’t let him out of it so easily. I said, “Seriously, you don’t notice any difference in me?” His comment was, “I thought you said you didn’t think she was helping you that much.”

Seriously, after telling him I’d never said that, I clamped my mouth shut and stared out the window. And I brooded. Hard. When we got home, we went about our evening routine and I said nothing to him. I got into the shower and I was really thinking about it. And I came to a realization…

He thinks that me being in therapy should fix the things he thinks are wrong with me. (I couldn’t even figure out how to emphasize that statement properly!)

I know that Hub thinks I get angry too quickly sometimes, and that I am hard on him. He thinks that I am unable to compromise. He thinks that I should be equally as affectionate as he is and accept every bit of affection he gives me at every time he wants to give it to me, in every way he wants to give it to me***. (Again, this isn’t about complaining about my husband or our relationship, I’m just going over some of his complaints about me.) He thinks that I attack him about money. He thinks I nag him about things that need to be done. I’m sure there’s more and if I sat long enough I would come up with all of it. That isn’t really the issue here. The issue is, he figured that my going to therapy would fix what he perceives are the problems I have. In fact, a lot of those problems stem from his reactions to me. I used the word “perceived” because both he and I are well aware that he has overly sensitive reactions to a lot of things I say and do. He will admit to this quite readily, but he has decided that he does not want to see a therapist and/or work on those issues in any way. That doesn’t make me happy, but I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do…all I can do is work on myself. So while I’m working on myself and the things I can do better (and be better), his responses to me and his perceptions have not changed. So he perceives this as me not changing.

See how that works?

I’m so disappointed. I don’t even know how to address this with him, or what to say. I’m disappointed that he sees none of the changes or progress I’m making. I can’t make him see it, and I can’t fix his perceptions. So I’m stuck feeling like he’s looking at me like I’m standing still, in the same place I was prior to starting therapy (intensely) in January 2013. I feel like I’ve made a ton of progress…my therapist has said similar things. And yet the person I live with every day, who loves me to no end, sees none of it because of the “colored” glasses he wears. It makes me want to cry.

Up to this point, I have not once resented the fact that I’ve spent so much time trying to feel better…that I’ve worked hard to deal with my anxiety, my fears, my grief, my guilt, control issues…and that he’s not done one thing to help himself. I’ve focused on what I can do, which is make myself better. Now? I am resentful and hurt. And I feel lost. And angry.

I will work to remind myself that I can only make changes in myself. And remind myself that I love my husband and he loves me. Even if he doesn’t see the changes I’ve made, he still loves me…and although to some extent that makes me sad, it also tells me exactly how much he loves me.

***For example, I ate something that gave me that gluten’d feeling. I was getting the chills that no amount of blankets could fix, but my face was hot as a boiled lobster. My nose was running like it was allergy season, I was jittery like I’d had ten Red Bulls (which I don’t even drink), and I felt crappier than crap. This happened when I was having a snack while the two of us were watching a movie at home. After said movie, Hub ran off to do an errand, and when he came home I was outside with the dogs, huddled in my winter coat in 40 degree weather with 15-20mph winds. I thought the brisk weather would make me feel better and/or distract me. Hub came back home and saw me outside and came to the fence to ask me what was going on. I told him what I said above, specifically, and said I wished I could crawl into bed and sleep for 24 hours straight. He said, “I’m sorry, dear.” Then he leaned over the fence and said, “Can I have a kiss?” I guess I gave him a dead-faced look because he sort of grimaced. I said, “Really, did you not just hear how shitty I feel right now?” And he apologized and said he didn’t really think about it before asking. W.T.F. people? THIS is the kind of thing I mean…he doesn’t really consider circumstances when “asking for” or offering affection. (I know I shouldn’t complain about this, but he has absolutely no clue about surrounding circumstances or my feelings when he wants affection and that gets really difficult to deal with after 22 years.)

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Dogs, family, fear, love, pain, stress

Seems like a weird title, I know, but bear with me.

I was playing with my widgets (get your mind out of the gutter) and realized I could show the number of posts for each category listed. I considered changing the “list” to a “drop down” to save space, but I don’t like drop downs. I considered a category “cloud” but the cloud didn’t look the way I wanted it to, so I didn’t do that either. Then I skimmed over my categories and noted which ones had the highest post counts (not counting “anxiety” because every post I write is marked with “anxiety” as a category). Yeah, you got it…

Dogs, family, fear, love, pain, stress.

That just so much is me. The things my life are filled with every day…obviously because those are the things I’m talking about the most. I don’t know what I expected, but for some reason I was surprised to see those categories as not only being the highest counts, but the highest by far. Like, the other post counts are half (or less) than these six categories. Go ahead, take a look, I’ll wait.

You’re back? Oh, what…you need to take a pee/coffee/email break? I guess you can do that and come back if you want. Probably be easier to just finish reading the blog post…it isn’t going to go on much longer. Why? Because I’m not sure what else to say about it. I just thought it was interesting to note.

I love my dogs and I love my family. Those are the most important things in my life (family includes Hub, but Hub has his own category…but Hub’s category is lower than “family” because I feel weird talking a lot about Hub on here because he didn’t ask to have his life analyzed…) I live with fear, pain, and stress every single day of my life, just as I live with the dogs and family…and love. It’s such a set of polar opposites…the good things in life: love, family, dogs. The bad things in life: fear, pain, stress. I generally seem to live at one end or the other, nowhere in the middle. I have issues with moderation, balance, etc.

It’s interesting, because my emotions are not really that way. I am generally on an even keel, with only minor amounts of spikes up or down. I’m not sure Hub would agree, but it’s how I feel.

Dogs, family, fear, love, pain, stress.

It’s just interesting to me to know what I’ve really been writing about.


Posted by on April 13, 2014 in about me, anxiety, dogs, family, fear, hub, love, pain, stress


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Sooooo sensitive

I have said in the past that I am incredibly sensitive to medications, whether it’s OTC or prescription. I don’t take anything, which includes tylenol and advil and aleve, or even cold medication. I’m also one of those people who acute hearing, including the electronic noises in the department stores (and the humming florescent lights above)…and I have a sensitive nose (with accompany nausea sometimes). My stomach is sensitive, my nose is sensitive, my ears are sensitive… only my eyes are forgiving.

To that end, I know that science has found out that there are pain receptors in our body, and that some people have higher pain sensitivity than others. I’m not talking about a pain “threshold” (as in how much pain you can endure) but rather the actual amount of pain that is required to happen in order for someone to feel it. I am pretty sure they have been able to pin these pain receptors to a measurable number, but I don’t know how they do it. What I know is, my pain receptors are high…as in I feel pain before other people. This is not bragging, just as my sensitive nose, ears, and stomach would not be considered bragging. They are just facts.

And as with those issues, the pain thing is something I have to learn to tolerate. Without the ability to dull pain–because of my medication sensitivities–I feel like I spend a lot of time in pain. Varying amounts of pain, but pain nonetheless. If I had a superhero power, I suspect I would be “Super Sensitive”. I wish I had better news for the superhero community, but there it is.

I don’t like it, having these superpowers. I don’t like hearing all those noises, or smelling all those smells, and I certainly don’t like feeling all this pain. I am pretty sure I have an okay threshold for pain, because otherwise I feel like I’d be in tears all the time. Is it because I live with pain so much? Like, I had a swollen gum the other day and couldn’t even close my mouth. The gum was throbbing painfully, and I was sitting there doing filing like it was absolutely normal to be in that kind of pain. I don’t have that pain every day, but not a day goes by where I don’t have pain of some sort. Pain that probably someone else might not even feel because their pain receptors are different than mine.

I don’t know. Even where this post is going… I’ve been so caught up in trying to find a new home/auto insurance policy (been with the same group & agent for over 15 years) that I haven’t even thought of things to blog about, so I’m behind in my posts.

Okay, this is meandering and I’m done.

Super Sensitive is out.


Posted by on April 10, 2014 in anxiety, health, medications, pain


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One year blogiversary

WordPress told me it was my one year blogiversary recently. It was so exciting that I clearly forgot to even mention it…and I forget what day it was. Good, right?

Do you go back and read previous blog posts that you’ve written? I do, because it find it helps me track where I was and how far I’ve come along. How my life has changed and how it has stayed the same. It’s interesting to me. Then again, I go back and read old journals, too, and any writing I happen to find in boxes or in notebooks that I come across. My own writing, of course. Is that weird?

Well, it’s all kindsa good that I’m still at this a year later. I’m happy to be able to share the ups and downs I’m dealing with as I battle anxiety and grief and stress and food and family and…life.

So thanks to those of you who read me. I appreciate the time you take to be with me on my journey. Please feel free to comment if the mood moves you to do so. And thanks to those of you who do comment…it never fails to pick me up.


Posted by on April 6, 2014 in anxiety, progress


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Progress on progress

My last appointment with T, we were about 3/4 of the way through the appointment when she asked me, “What are we doing here?”

I kind of blanked. Like, what was she asking me? Did she want to break up with me? So I said, “Talking?”

She started telling me that she felt I was working really well with my anxiety, and able to handle things in a better manner than when I first started seeing her. She said she didn’t want to take advantage of me if I didn’t need to be in therapy at this point. So what did I feel I needed to work on at this point? On one hand I was pleased that she felt I was making good progress, but on the other hand I knew I had more work to do. I told her that I felt I was using the time (and space) with her as a “safe place” for me to talk about my anxiety and the things I worry about…as well as the progress I felt I was making. Because I don’t want to burden my husband or family talking about these things and/or looking for validation for how I’m feeling. At some point, the people around you get tired of hearing the same thing, and T is paid to hear it over and over again, if that’s what I want to talk about. She laughed, and said she was happy to be a safe space, but for me to keep in mind that we could change our schedule (twice a month) or open discussions up to things other than anxiety.

I told her that I knew I needed to work on my control issues, but that I also felt I needed to talk with her about my food issues. She reminded me that it’s a “relationship” with food, not an issue. She’s very semantically inclined…which I understand is because it makes a difference how we talk to ourselves. But sometimes I find it funny and distracting, which I think amuses her. Anyway, she said she’s ready and will to work on my relationship with food and to continue working on control issues.

It was good to hear from her that she felt I was progressing with my ability to deal with my anxiety. I asked Hub at one point if he felt I was doing better and he sort of just stared at me, like he wasn’t sure what to say. I rushed to tell him it wasn’t a big deal and to forget it, but I was really disappointed. I feel like I’m doing better, but if he doesn’t see it…what does that mean? Does it mean he can’t see the changes in me, or do I hide so much of my anxiety from him that he really can’t see the changes? I tell him pretty much everything in relation to my anxiety, but maybe I don’t show it to him. I’m not sure.

I know I’ve made progress, I can see it in myself. I don’t know why I feel like I want validation from the people around me, family and otherwise.


Posted by on April 2, 2014 in anxiety, control, food, progress, therapist


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