Send the pain below

Oh, what a week.  What a month, really.  I have been an emotional basketcase.  I’ve plumbed the depths of intense sadness and also laughed so hard I’ve cried.  Admittedly, the scales have tipped dangerously heavy on the sadness side.  I’m working on balancing it out.

I’m trying to refocus, pull myself out of my slump and get involved in my life again.  Sitting at home with my animals watching 12 hours of DVR isn’t going to move me forward.  I need to jump start things again, and remind myself that not everyone in my world is unreliable and disappointing.  Beyond that, I need to hang out with some girlfriends and remember that those friendships have some serious value in my man-laden world.  Balance, again.

The next few days are the busiest I’ve had in awhile, at least in terms of social occasions.  Sure, I’ve spent lots of time aimlessly driving and/or running errands solo, but that does not count.  Let’s examine my social calendar for the next four days:

Thursday: This evening I have a happy hour with my former supervisor at work, and hopefully another old co-worker will join.  It will be really good to catch up!  In the meantime, I am weirdly excited for my lunch of softshell chicken tacos I brought from home, LOL.

Friday:  I have tentative dinner/drinks plans with a gentleman we will nickname Captain for now, as he has a boat and it is one of his main hobbies.  He is supposed to let me know his vote for where we will be going this afternoon. 

Saturday: I have plans to meet another gentleman whom we shall call Mr. Mom because he has a daughter he is quite beholden to, in a very sweet way.  He is going out of town in a couple of weeks to see her compete in a cheerleading competition.  We are meeting for coffee and chat at a nearby Barnes & Noble.  That afternoon I also need to run a couple of riveting errands…pet store and drycleaners.  Rock on.

Saturday evening: I just made plans to do dinner with a girlfriend of mine whom I haven’t seen in awhile. I’m looking forward to catching up and having a drink while I dine on some delicious fish!

Sunday: I have plans in the afternoon to get together with another girlfriend I’ve not seen in awhile.  I believe our plan includes a meal and a movie.  Hopefully the potential snow they are talking about will not cramp any plans.  Crossing fingers!

So that is my weekend.  Quite busy in my books!  I’m excited for all of it, though.  I’m also pleased to note that there are no ex-anythings as company for any of my events.  I am worn out on relying on ex-husbands, ex-boyfriends and even ex-people I’ve gone on 1-3 dates with as activity partners.  If all goes as planned, I hope to end up Sunday evening with a whole weekend full of things that were booked and undertaken successfully.  That will be something!

Other miscellaneous goals for the coming four days, just because I like having a plan instead of flailing about so uselessly:  Read.  I’m in the middle of two books right now, and it would be nice to make some progress on one or both.  My attention span has been lacking lately, so I’ve barely even cracked the books open.  Write.  God, do I want to write.  It would be such a relief to just get something started! Exercise.  I need to work out.  Desperately.  I also think I want to try some yoga again.  I need something to wind down with.

So I officially have a weekend full of goals and plans and ambition.  Sure, there will be some laziness, some DVR watching, some indulgence in non-productive things.  But I’m a hell of a lot better off than I was last weekend, that’s for sure.  After Friday night was over, I was a gloomy, doomy pit of self-pity and depression and lethargy.  I was overstressed, overtired, and bent out of shape every which way.  I want this weekend to be the very antithesis of the bulk of last weekend.

I do hope that I manage to repeat one thing from last weekend, though---the laughter and escape and awesome feeling I had Friday night.  I felt spectacular, I loosened up, I stopped thinking so much, and it was exactly what I needed.  THAT, I would like to visit again, even if it will surely come about in a different fashion.  No ill-advised company on the books this weekend (though, admittedly, he is never on the books officially, he is always a last minute revision).  This weekend’s only male company comes in the form of more participants in my endless line of first dates because….well, if hope doesn’t spring eternal, I’m screwed.  ;-)

Cheers to trying again, trying always.  :-)

Will you be my Un-Valentine?

A strange phenomenon is rippling through my world lately.  Everyone I know who has been single for ages and ages is suddenly part of a couple.  Conversely, I, the one who has spent the bulk of my adult life in a serious relationship, am fiercely single.  The world has turned upside down and it’s throwing me way off balance.

I know this post is being written on Valentine’s Day.  For the record, when I have spent this “holiday” as part of a couple, I’ve never put much value in it.  It’s a very commercialized thing and I’ve mostly either done a nicer dinner at home with my person, or we’ve grabbed something quick out and about.  No fancy restaurants with reservations, no gifts.  I’ve not gotten flowers for V-Day in years. 

The last festive thing I did for Valentine’s Day was for the guy I dated after my divorce.  We were together for a year and change, February to March, and for our first and only V-Day as a couple (which also happened to be his birthday) I went old school and made him a Valentine’s Day box.  Shoe box, tissue paper, construction paper hearts, glitter, stickers.  I filled it with dozens of different little Valentines, writing something on each of them.  It was a project that filled me with nostalgia and flutters of anticipation of presenting the gift.  I remain proud of my efforts.

I miss Valentine’s Day as it was in elementary school.  Everyone got a Valentine from everyone in their Valentine’s Day envelope or box.  Little boxes of candy, conversation hearts, red and pink and hearts everywhere.  It was innocent and sweet and equal opportunity.  No one was left out.  Everyone got something.

As an adult, this is no longer the case.  If you are single, you will be left out.  Your Valentine’s box will be empty.  There are no consolation prizes, no required cards.  This year I got a Valentine’s Day card from my mom and another from my grandfather.  An online dating guy I’ve been messaging for a day or so wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day. That was actually nice, even if we never get beyond messaging online.  I appreciated the words.

Seriously, though----what is in the water?  Friends I know who have been single for years and years are now immersed in sudden relationships that are strangely serious for their short duration.  They are madly in love, they are talking about marriage after a single handed count of dates.  Some of them are involved in more realistic, easier to understand situations, ones that have been percolating for a long time, coming to a slow boil and giving off an aura of serious staying power.  Either way, though, right now it seems like everyone has someone but me.

It is becoming alarmingly obvious to me how much I define myself by my relationship status.  I’ve always been in one until this last year, and now I just have these periodic moments of flat out panic where I feel like I am flailing about, directionless.  Shouldn’t I, after a year, be okay with this?  Shouldn’t I be used to it by now?  I feel sometimes like I will never be used to this. Yet in other ways I feel like I am too used to it. 

I worry that I’m getting too used to being alone, even though being alone feels fundamentally wrong in some ways. I feel like I’m getting jaded and cynical, and that with each passing day the window for letting new people in is growing smaller, and my discouragement with the world is getting bigger.  I’m getting set in my solitary ways, forcing myself to stop relying on people for much, big or little, because I am growing so, so tired of people bailing on me.  If I expect nothing from anyone, then I will never be disappointed when they give me exactly that.

This year, my Valentines will be a party of three, all on four legs with a lot of fur to spare.  Me and my animals, at home.  I never liked those chalky conversation hearts, anyway!

I Would Drive 154 Miles

I would, and I did.  Yesterday, I drove 154 miles.

The highlight of my weekend was getting together with an unexpected and possibly ill advised person, drinking two beers really quickly and getting quite loopy, then laughing so hard that I forgot for awhile how lousy things have been lately.  I needed that escape, and ill advised or not, that person was exactly who and what I needed Friday night, and I am grateful for it.  Sometimes the wrong puzzle piece in the big picture is the right piece in the little puzzle of a bad day.

154 miles.  I drove to escape unreliable friends.  The stress of my sick dog.  The unbearable loneliness that's weighing on me so much lately.  My lack of motivation to work out or eat better. The small parts of longing that still have their hold on me for the ill advised company of Friday night.  My own cynicism.

I got my driver's license when I was 26 years old, you know.  I was terrified of driving for so many years.  How strange that it has somehow become the thing I do to feel better, to relax, to clear my head. 

154 miles.

Because it's good to remind myself...

In the face of so much moodiness and frustration, I need to remind myself of the little things that are good and positive.

* My sweet dog.  She was so happy to see me tonight when I got home, did a little happy bounding step about going on her walk.  Brought me a toy a couple of times tonight.  :-)  She's nearing 14 and sometimes not very lively, so these happy little moments are nice!

* Pizza Bianca delivered to my door for dinner (even if it took an hour and 20 minutes to get here!)  No fuss, no muss, and lunch at the ready for tomorrow.

* Brunch plans saturday morning, and a social thing with a girlfriend and some others in the late afternoon.   Something to look forward to!

* Listening to "Take on Me" on itunes. 

* Going to go take a nice, hot, relaxing bath.

Happy thursday.  I'm working on the happy friday and happy weekend.  :-)

Is it me, or is it the city?

For years now, since my divorce, my mom has been telling me that the city is bad for me.  People here are just not committed to personal relationships.  The men are unreliable and uninterested in being devoted to anyone, and that essentially I was dooming myself to a certain measure of unhappiness by virtue of staying here.  For years, I argued the point.  I told her that I really didn't think the men here were much worse than the men anywhere else.  I could go back to the Midwest and probably encounter just as many toolbags, but probably more of them would be divorced because more people get married (and younger) out in the Midwest.  So theoretically, they could have MORE baggage than the gems I've found out here.  My experience has been that many men are serial proposers, and have been engaged at least once.  WTF?  I guess the silver lining is that they were clever enough to escape it one way or another before marriage.

Anyway, my point?  I'm beginning to wonder if mothers *ARE* always right.  I am BURNT OUT, BABY.  Burnt out.  Not only is my faith in the general male population swirling further down the tubes with each week that passes, but truly, my faith in everyone is dwindling.

Case in point for my assertion about the men:  A couple of nights ago I was on the online dating site I've been using for months now (with no success, thank you muchly), and I got a chat request.  The guy looked reasonably cute in his wee tiny picture, so I accepted.  The first message I got from him?  "Hey beautiful!  Ever had a man pee on you?"  I KID YOU NOT.  So I blocked him.  Logically.

Later on, I continue a message exchange with a guy who'd first contacted me the day before.  We've exchanged maybe 2 messages each at this point.  His third message describes a self help type book he is reading, and how the last chapter he read was about how sex was beneficial to relationships.  Um.  First of all, OBVIOUSLY.  He goes on to say that his roommate, who is young and naive, was asking him a bunch of sex questions as we were talking because of the book, and she is dating a new man, and he told her to be careful.

Confused?  Wondering what kind of weird ass conversation this is?  Join the club.  I demurred a bit in my response to him, feeling a bit weirded out.  He said "I gather you are not comfortable with this topic?"  OH PLEASE, act as if me not wanting to chat with you about your sex talks with your roommate makes me puritanical and uptight, OH PLEASE!  I told him esesentially that I didn't know him well enough for this to be on the table, and that in my experience when a guy brings up sex so early on, he is looking for something casual and physical only, and I'm not.

After that I got 2 messages full of self-important, egotistical, pretentious bullshit about how evolved he is, blah blah blah.  It made my eyes roll so far back in my head I had to log out.  He messaged me again the next day, I ignored it and then blocked him.  CREEPER.

Insofar as my second assertion...I'm either doing something wrong and attracting generally awful people, or there are just a disproportionate amount of awful people here to encounter.  I really don't know.  Never in my life have I felt so overwhelmed by the amount of flaky, unreliable, unapologetically rude people.  People who purport to be my friends routinely bail on me at the last minute, make plans with me only to ditch me for something better, or just don't contact me at all anymore.  I am over this nonsense.

For the record, it's not everyone.  I do have a few quality friends who I can count on to do something when they say they will, including people who read this very blog.  However, I have more unreliable people around me than reliable.  I had plans to go to a movie tomorrow night with my friend R.  It was his idea because he has been a god awful friend lately, self-absorbed, outright rude.  He'd apologized and suggested we get together friday night.  I agreed, but all week long when asked about my plans I said things like "I'm *supposed* to have plans friday with R."  Everything included might, maybe, should, supposed to.  So while I wasn't surprised when he bailed, I continue to be disappointed. 

Honestly, sometimes I think that if it weren't for my job, which I continue to love even when it stresses me out, I would sincerely consider moving.  I don't know where I would go.  I can't imagine returning to any city I've previously lived in, but as expected, the thought of somewhere brand new is terrifying, too.  Sometimes I just feel like I would like a fresh start, maybe somewhere where the pace isn't so frenetic, and the population so transient.  It's like watching a merry go round that is going too quickly...I want to get on, to belong, but I can't catch it.  Instead I just spend all my time watching it go by, with others I know boarding it easily, with people they know, while I am me, party of one.

Sigh. 

Speed Dating

On Friday, I decided to broaden my dating horizons and try something beyond online adventures.  I took the Metro to a bar at the opposite end of the map from where I live, showed up as a blazing solo, parked myself at a table of fellow solos, then "dated" about 12 men for 4 minutes each. There was a social hour in advance, and a social hour following, and I stayed for maybe another 30 after that ended. 

My thoughts on this concept?  Well, I'm a fan of trying new things once.  Some things I like and will repeat, others, one and done.  Care to guess where this one fell?

Speed dating is just not for me. I'll say it....these guys were BORING.  What do you do?  Where do you live?  Do you like to travel?  YAWN.  Seriously, those are the things you want to know in 4 minutes to distinguish me from everyone else? 

Like I said, glad I tried it once, but I think that will be my only speed dating adventure.  Back to hoping or a miracle in real life, and dealing with online dating as a sidenote otherwise.

Next time I'll just go see the movie by myself!

So I had my second date Saturday night with the guy from last weekend, he of the magical snowy Old Town evening.  I’d been looking forward to it all week long.  I was like a giddy teenager.  I had my outfit picked out, my jewelry, how I’d do my hair.  I anticipated the possibility of our first kiss, and envisioned him grabbing my hand in the movie theater.

Saturday morning he texted me and said, “Did you know this movie is 2 hours and 40 minutes long?”  I replied and told him that I’d warned him it was long.  This was the second time since Wednesday, when we’d decided on this movie, that he’d made a comment about it, the first being a comment about possibly falling asleep during it.  I grudgingly told him that we didn’t have to see it, I would just go see it another time.  He asked if there was anything else I wanted to see, I told him the truth…no.  So he relented and agreed to go to the original movie.  But I told him no, I wouldn’t enjoy it if I knew he wouldn’t want to see it.  Entirely true.  I refuse to drag people to movies I know they are not interested in because it takes away from my viewing pleasure, and I’ve been trying to see this movie for WEEKS. 

We decided to go out to dinner then come to my apartment to watch a movie.  Fine.  I was a little bit annoyed about the last minute plan change.  I was disappointed about again not seeing the movie I wanted, and beyond that, I had to spend a great deal of time that afternoon cleaning my apartment for company.

However, my annoyance wore off and my anticipation returned, and I got myself all ready.  I looked awesome.  New outfit, straight, delightful hair, all the right details.  He suggested meeting at the restaurant.  Okay.  Kind of strange, but whatever.  As I was about to leave the house, tells me he may be about 10 minutes later than planned as he was going to walk instead.  Stranger, but again, whatever.  I delay my departure to accommodate the latest change, and head out.  I beat him there and get a table. 

He arrives and looks very cute.  The owner knows him, comes over to say hi, chats with me for a few minutes.  When he leaves, my date tells me, “That’s the nicest he’s ever been to me!”  I tell him, “You’re welcome.”  ;-)

Dinner is good.  We get along very well again.  He compliments my nail color and my bracelet throughout the meal.  Afterwards, we go to my car, and he asks if we can stop by his apartment for him to pick up beer.  Seriously.  I had told him before that I don’t really drink at home, and I never have beer on hand.  So, I’m a sucker, so we stop.  He tells me don’t worry, I’ll get a cab home so you don’t have to drive me.  Hmm.

Back at my apartment I give him the 2 minute tour and we sit down to watch the movie.  He talks.  A lot.  During the movie.  This is a movie I love to show to people if they haven’t seen it.  A movie I adore. He knows this.  I keep pausing it when he’s jabbering.  At first it’s kind of funny, but it gets annoying. 

During one part of the movie, one character tries to get another to stop smoking.  He puffs out in agitation at this.  Important note:  This guy’s dating profile said “Sometimes” for smoking.  I didn’t notice this until we’d been talking for about a week and I already liked him.  We discussed it at the time, and he told me he was just a social smoker, not an all the time thing.  I was functioning under this impression until this point.

So he actually says something about how smokers are so oppressed by society. They can’t smoke anywhere.  He likens people who dislike smokers to how he dislikes when people talk on cell phones going through checkout lines.  I point out that, no, those are totally not comparable.  Talking on a cell phone doesn’t make the person smell like an ashtray, nor does it have an adverse physical effect on others around them.  It’s just annoying, it’s not a health issue.

He disagrees, we awkwardly wind in and out of this conversation before somehow setting it aside to continue the movie.  I’m turned off. 

When the movie ends, I go to take my dog out.  He insists he wants to come with me.  We’re barely out there 2 minutes before he says, “Let’s go back in, I’m cold!”  I told him I should have just gone by myself.

Back inside, we sit on the couch and he flips through my On Demand selections for a few minutes, never taking his coat off.  I ask if he wants to go home, he says, “Yeah, soon.”  At this point I basically just watch him flip through the channels, ready to get rid of him. 

Sidenote:  He drank 2 drinks at the restaurant, and 3 beers at my apartment.  Told me he’d walked to the restaurant because he wanted to drink and he couldn’t risk driving since he has a security clearance.  Note also that he took a cab to our first date as well, for the same reason.  Pattern.

Finally he says “Should I call a cab?”  Subtle.  I tell him no, I’ll take him home.  I’m annoyed.  I gather up my purse and coat quickly, lead him out the door.  I speed to his apartment.  We pull up, he gives me a hug, thanks me, gets out, and I depart immediately. 

I get home and bemoan the fact that I just wasted all this effort on looking nice for nothing. 

He texts me.  Tells me he feels like he left really abruptly, he doesn’t know why because he was having fun.  I reply, “You did.” He asks if I’m bitter with him.  We have this weird text convo where he basically tells me he left because he wanted to smoke, and he knows that’s “a big deal for me”.  I am NOT impressed.  He can tell.  He gets defensive. 

He says, among other things:

You seem to have incredibly strict standards on that.  I’m not a pack a day smoker.  I do like one or two on a Saturday night. It’s not the entirety of me.

Sorry, I like a smoke now and then.  Whoopsy daisy.

I’m not a Mormon.

I feel trapped if I can’t smoke.

At this point I’m feeling the not very subtle hostility.  He begins to remind me of my most recent ex.  The scary one.  The one whom I chose my words carefully with to avoid sparking his anger.  Red flag.  I am just responding “Okay then” over and over. I’m not taking the bait.

We wrap up, with him telling me he’s sorry.  He was disappointing.  He would liked to have stayed.  I looked stunning.  Whatever.  I go to bed.

Sunday sucked.  I slept in until 11, woke up with a migraine.  Took a pill, went back to sleep about 2.  He’d texted me a couple times prior to that, I responded very briefly.  When I woke up at 5:45, he’d asked me about hanging out again that night.  At first I waffled.  Then I thought of everyone I know telling me I don’t give people enough chances on these early dates.  I rule people out too quickly.  So I said okay.

He came over.  He smelled like smoke.  Gross.  Instant turn-off.

We watched a movie.  He talked less this time, probably because I didn’t actually give a damn about this movie.  He sat with enough room in between us to hold another person.  After the movie he said he had to go home, gave me a hug.  I gladly escorted him out my door, and that was done.  Done, done, done.

I should have trusted my instincts after Saturday.  No harm, no foul, really, save for the nasty cigarette smell I was stuck with for 2 hours.  Now I know for sure, and I can close that tiny little book and toss it into the dating fire for kindling!  And I can go out knowing that I did look stunning on Saturday, and it is his loss, and we all know it…me, him, and the restaurant owner from Saturday night.  ;-)

Just goes to show you, one great date does not a boyfriend make!

Chaste

On Friday night, I had dinner with a lovely fellow.  We met for tapas and sangria in Old Town, finishing with an exquisitely delicious Tres Leches cake.  The conversation flowed.  I laughed.  A lot.  I found myself illogically smiling throughout the evening, pleased with my good fortune.  I felt happy and flushed with anticipation, even though the evening was already in progress.


There was a moment during dinner where I said something that came out wrong.  I reached out across the table in a gesture of clarification or apology or something.  We were both laughing, but he grabbed my hand and held it for a moment and told me it was okay, he understood what I meant. 

When we left the restaurant, it was snowing.  Just a little bit, but it was beautiful.  We walked a block over to another restaurant to have a drink.  Old Town is so lovely, anyway, but in the snow, on a sparkly, shiny, happy, new date, it was positively glowing.  It was quieter than usual, perhaps because of the weather.  We got a tall table by the front window of the restaurant, which meant we got a view of the snow beyond the window, the awning of the restaurant, fluttering down beneath the streetlights. 

After the drinks, we left out onto the street, and it was snowing pretty well by then.  The sidewalks were slick with a mix of the snow and some freezing rain that had mixed in.  I'd worn these brand new, lovely suede ankle boots, which I'd luckily treated before wearing, LOL.  Nonetheless, they had a bit of a heel, and it was a little slick.  I asked my date if I could borrow his arm for balance, and he obliged.  We walked to my car with my arm looped through his, our shoulders touching with each step.

When we parted, he hugged me.  A short time later he texted to make sure I'd gotten home okay.

I felt puzzled.  He didn't even try to kiss me?  Did he not like me?  What was wrong?  I went over the events of the evening and all signs pointed to him liking me.  I couldn't figure it out.  My thoughts wandered from what was wrong with me to what was wrong with him. 

Then I realized what I was doing.

This man, this date, had been a gentleman.  And he was shy.  I made him nervous.  I could tell.  Even if I hadn't known on my own, he told me as much in advance, and again while we were out.  It was puzzling, but endearing.  I knew that during the date, but somehow after, I'd forgotten.  It would have been out of character for this shy man to kiss me on our first date.  And that was okay.  It was okay to part with a hug.

I am historically attracted to a very specific type.  There is no physical type, as each person I've dated for any measure of time has looked dramatically different from the others.  It's a personality type.  Sarcastic.  Cocky.  Charming.  Smooth.  Knows just what to say and when to say it. 

This new guy, he was an anomaly.  He was out of type for me.  He was charming in an awkward, nervous way.  He was funny, but not in a sarcastic way.  He was smart, but not in an overbearing way.  He was sweet.  Just sweet.

It's amazing the things that your brain internalizes over the years, the things that become a habit, an expectation.  I'd become accustomed to a way of being with someone.  Layers of heavy sarcasm over almost everything.  Intense highs and lows.  Tiny, almost imperceptible digs at my intelligence.  A feeling of never having enough experience, or the right experience. 

I want to break my patterns.  I don't want to wonder what is wrong with a man when he is polite and well spoken and gentlemanly.  I want to appreciate those things, to know that those are things that I want in a man, and to *expect* them.  I shouldn't be surprised when I encounter them.  I should be surprised when I don't.

It's a process.  I have to remind myself often of all of these little things.  I deserve better than what I've had.  I deserve more.  I am worth more.  And beyond me, I try to remember the other things.  Waiting can be a good thing.  Anticipation can be excellent.  Taking it slow can be exquisite. 

I'm not saying this man is my soulmate.  I'm not saying he is the answer to all of my previous relationship woes, the one who will redeem my faith in everything.  I'm just saying that on Friday, I had a positively lovely, luminous date with a very nice man. It was like something out of a book or a movie, so scenic and perfect, like a moment in time captured in a bottle.  The world became so small and snug, and I was happy in it's cocoon.

****************************
We have a second date on Saturday night. 
:-)

Stolen words

A friend posted this on facebook, and it struck me, and I had to steal it and bring it here for safekeeping.

She Let Go...
Without a thought or a word, she let go.
She let go of fear. She let go of judgments. She let go of the
confluence of
opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the
‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.
She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She just let go.
She let go of all the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the
anxiety that kept her from moving forward.
She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it
just
right. She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. She made no public
announcement. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily
horoscope.
She just let go.
She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her
friends to
discuss the matter. She didn’t utter one word.
She just let go.
No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or
congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.
There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her
face. A light breeze blew through her.
And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.
Here’s to giving ourselves the gift of letting go…
There’s only one guru ~ YOU.

Jennifer Eckert Bernau

Sigh.

Today has been a huge blur of pain and sleep.  Damn migraine basically ate up the day.  I spent twenty minutes sitting in a hot shower, letting the water beat down on my sore neck, my old standby indicator of a migraine to come, and the gift that keeps on giving for the duration of the headache.  I took one of my pills, didn't work, tried hydrating with water, didn't work.  Forced myself to eat, took more meds, icepacks, sleeping off and on.  Somewhere along the line I woke up and felt somewhat better.  Now I just have that migraine hangover.  My body is tired, my eyes are tired.  I'm in bed, going to sleep again soon.

I am SO overdue for acupuncture, and I'm so glad I have my first appt. back tomorrow.  I swear I've had more and they've been worse since my financially induced lapse in acupuncture began.  Glad I'm back on track.  I also have an appt. for a physical tomorrow morning, and my semi annual chick Dr. appt. wednesday.  SO MUCH FUN to be had.  Glad to be insured again, though.

Sigh.  My body is so, so tired.