Rambling Rose

Ooops!

First of all, humble apologies to the lady I promised this to last weekend. I can only plead migraine and hormone-related brain misfunction.

This little technique takes less than a minute to do, and builds on the programming already carried out by practicing deep abdominal breathing (anyone who wants to know more on that subject, either shout out here, or in AIM if you are happy for me to talk your ears off, or look it up on Wikipedia, they have a pretty good description).

Basically, after a couple of weeks of practising the breathing pattern and relaxing all your muscles, your body will associate the one as a trigger for the other. Kind of like when people take their first sip of coffee and get that 'ahhh' moment, way before the sugar or caffeine could possibly have got anywhere.

When you feel a panic building or the hamster revving its wheel up to make smoke come from the axle, then try this:

1. Say "STOP!" - either in your head, or if practising on your own, out loud. (It can be kinda fun)
   
2. Take a deep abdominal breath, inhaling slowly, expanding your gut, keeping collar bone still, then exhale even slower, dropping your shoulders, relaxing your hands and arms.
3. Inhale again, slowwwwwwly, then as you exhale pay attention to your face, jaw and neck. Smooth your forehead, unclench your jaw, relax the muscles.
4. (optional) Smile. 
   
5. And carry on with whatever you were doing, in a relaxed and leisurely manner.

I've used this in team meetings, speaking in front of people, in check out queues, in the middle of the street, sitting at traffic lights, all sorts of places.  And actually, no one can tell you are doing it... unless you close your eyes like I do sometimes.

It works.

It works better if you practice the breathing and relaxation techniques.  And it helps if you practice this little exercise while you aren't heading for a panic. 

This is one of the things that I found helped me immediately I tried it.  Some days it works better than others, but everything's like that, and it's ok to do it a couple of times. Just don't breathe so incredibly slowly that you pass out.  Because that's not, you know, a good look.  Not really.

Unfortunately, I have yet to find a simple technique that boosts my memory, hence the tardiness of the post.  Please forgive me, and give this a go.

Lots of love,

Caroline

Saw the doctor today, mid-migraine. Forgot to take my list of things that I wanted to mention to her. 

Anyway, after a brief chat, and going through the depression checklist thingy that automatically pops up on her computer, we decided to try dropping the propranolol - it isn't stopping the sweating and I've not been panicky recently.  Hyper-somnia, hypo-somnia and generally upset/weepy, but not panicky. There's a difference. And I forgot to take a couple of doses and the "I'm not real, I'm a ghost drifting through someone else's pretend world" feeling kind of went away a bit.  Not sure if it's a side effect or a symptom, but it isn't nice.

And to try and balance out the rest of the crap that seems to have been getting worse the last month or so, I'm stepping up the prozac dosage. By something like half an increment. I'm on the absolute lowest dose right now, one pill a night, the next dosage is alternating between 1 pill and 2 pills. So it kind of averages at 1.5, but since they are actually capsules, not pills, I can't be cutting them in half!  I've got another 4 weeks off work. I'm kind of glad that I've got a doctor who's not shy of the pills, but also not throwing them at a problem and hoping it will go away. That approach didn't work. The "I'm damn well never taking another pill" approach didn't work either.

So I'm hoping that somewhere in the middle is the right approach for me.

But still, I feel guilty. For taking so long off work, during which time my workload has to be passed on to others (though I think it will do one or two of them some good to have to use their initiative instead of sitting on it). For not being OK to start off with. For not being able to sort this out on my own, for needing drugs to help me. For failing. Not being independent, not being able to win at fighting this bloody thing. Yet.

I'll win, I know.  I have before, I will again, I guess... I'm just getting sick of the sporadic battles. I should be better able to see one coming by now, but I guess not.

It just takes so fucking long.

For that joint female experience thing, and for the guys for a giggle. Got this in an email. Yeah, some of you will have read it, no doubt. But I don't care - it bears repeating.

The Facecloth

This has to be read, laughed at and passed on. There is not a woman alive today who won't crack up over this!

I was due for a cancer smear with the doctor later in the week.
Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45 am. The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare.

As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pyjamas, wet the facecloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the facecloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.

I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, 'My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?'

I didn't respond.

After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal - some shopping, cleaning, & cooking.

After school when my 7 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, 'Mummy, where's my facecloth?'

I told her to get another one from the cupboard.

She replied, 'No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter saved inside it.'

NEVER going back to that doctor ever!!

Exactly what it says on the tin.

I need to hug someone, to be hugged, give hugs... I've cut myself off from contact too much again, too easily, and I'm trying desperately hard to climb out from that shell.

I went for a walk around the neighbourhood. There were flowers in gardens and spring rain and birds yelling insults and sexual inuendos at each other and I was... angry.  All the pristine little gardens belonging to people who would most likely sneer at ours and judge us (like I was judging them, I guess)... which made me feel a little more angry.

This is important.

This is HUGE.

I don't -feel- angry. I don't even bottle it up and explode later. I deepfreeze it and use it to numb myself to everything.

But, for a few minutes, at the cheerful displays of tulips and winter pansies ranked around manicured lawns, I was seriously pissed off.

I'm so proud of myself.

It pisses me off that I care so much, constantly monitoring, second-guessing, wondering, scared to be myself because, well, what will they think. Whotheheckever 'they' are.
Gah!

Many of them, anyway.

Some on purpose, some accidentally. Some are even proud of it.

But even worse than that

People get used to people being arseholes.

It becomes expected, known, familiar.

Encouraged, even.

I've had enough.

Goodnight

I think I borked the strike. I didn't mean to. I just can't do the mental maths. US clocks went forward, UK have not yet done so. 

And I'm so out of date... trying to catch up, thinking, I'll just read a bit. I won't comment, I'll come back and do that.

Yeahright.

It should NOT take an hour and a half to figure out whether to have a bath or a shower.

ISO: Brain. PST.

I'm behind with everything. Too late, too slow, too dark, so low.  My friendspage is so out of date that the last entry I read is off the page. I didn't realise it had been that long, that I had withdrawn so much again.

I'll try to do better. Not that I owe people reading stuff, but because it helps me. Because I am so out of contact with people that even the smallest, slightest, most distant or safe way of maintaining that is necessary to follow. Because there is interesting stuff going on that I am genuinely curious about.

I don't want to be like this.

Split. Tensions between me, myself and I. One wants to travel, see everywhere, the other wants to nest. One wants family, the other needs freedom. To make a life beyond a living. To have a job that does not define my limits. To make my own boundaries and be able to protect them, without fighting or aggression. To be me, but without having a clue what that is.

I'm not so stuck in the past (right now, anyway. Tomorrow may be a different story) But I'm not sure what where when or how I am instead. Something is different, I hope it is me, I'm scared it is me. I don't know how to think of this.

I was asked a question. A very difficult one, but a good one that deserves an answer. What makes me happy. I said I don't know. And to a point that is true. There was a follow up of whether that meant that I really don't know, or whether nothing comes to mind.  The answer doesn't sit within that frame of reference, may not sit within that person's frame of reference at all. Not even sure if it sits within mine.  So, leaving the box behind...

I don't let myself be happy.

There is always something to spoil it, whether it comes from someone else or within me. I can spoil things just to make sure that no one else does. Because I expect it to be taking, spoiled, stopped, ruined somehow. Sometimes waiting for the other shoe to drop is so utterly unbearable that I find one and make it drop. I let it happen because that's how things are. To expect anything else would be to get my hopes up, to set myself up for disappointment.

A few months ago I let myself hope for something for the first time in decades, I really wanted something. It didn't work out how I wanted it to. And I was crushed. See, if you don't hope for something, don't want anything, then you can't be disappointed. And if you're never disappointed, then you don't learn how to deal with it. And the first time that you take that risk, that you want or hope or acknowledge a need, and it isn't fulfilled, then it's kind of like losing the chance to hope all over again. Not just the thing that you were hoping for. There's far more at stake than that.

So I crashed.

But I'm finding another route back up. Maybe in another year or so I'll have another answer. I'll be able to say "I've tried X and it doesn't make me happy, but when I tried Y it did. I'm going to try Z next."

That's my hope. My goal, I guess.

I'm focussing on the process, rather than the end state. This may not make sense to anyone else, but it does to me, so nyah.  It's an embryonic thought, just forming, slowly.  Frustratingly, boneachingly, headspinningly slowly. It's pissing me off.  Try an analogy.

I'm hungry, so I need lunch.  Some would say that eating lunch would be the goal.

But after lunch I would get hungry a few hours later. So the real goal, or solution to the problem, would be to learn to feed myself.

That breaks down into being able to decide what I want and then make (or buy) it... or get my lovely chefy hubby to make it :P

Hunger doesn't go away after just one meal. One meal isn't what you need. It's a process by which many meals can be achieved.

I'm still not at work. But I'm getting better. That is my target, rather than returning to work. I could probably return tomorrow, and even function. For a while. Before it all overloads me again. I need to be able to Be, before I can be an admin assistant or a computer analyst or... some other job title I haven't figured out yet. That's a whole other chapter of terror. What to be, on top of How to be.

Analogy of a physical ailment. Tuberculosis. In the earlier part of the last century there was an outbreak of TB. Special asylums were set up for sufferers. There was nursing and hospitalisation for those who had TB and another environment for the recuperation phase, before they were expected to return to the normal world. I keep forgetting about the recuperating bit.

Each time I notice an improvement, I think "That's it, I'm getting better, I'll be fine in a couple more weeks."

About three months ago, and sporadically for many years prior to that, I wanted to die. I wasn't quite suicidal. At least, that's what I tell myself. I'm not entirely sure if it's true, or just some way that I can think of it. Then again, I had plans A, B and C all worked out. I decided not to. I decided to go for help instead. To do whatever it took to not do that. Bad sentence structure, but for once, I don't give a shit. The semantics are more important than the syntax. Sometimes what it takes is activity. Sometimes what it takes is to sit very still until the urge to do what I don't want to do passes. Mental image of a horny nun praying.

I've come a very, very long way. What I sometimes don't realise, and hardly ever let anyone else know, is how far I have to go in total. Just to get back to my journey.

To return to the process analogy earlier, it's not so much that I need to figure out my destination right now, or even how to get a train ticket. I need to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other so that I can travel.

At least I already know I'd rather take a plane than a boat. I love flying.

Some bits make sense to me, some bits don't. And I'm really angry with myself for always worrying whether any of it makes any sense to anyone else. I'm not sure if I want to read a comment saying 'yes, it makes sense' or 'no it doesn't' or... whatever. 

I think that it would make me happy if my own acceptance and approval was enough.  Not a typical 'life plan' or answer to 'where I see myself in 5 years'. But it would be a way to get to a place where I can create one of those. People don't realise how deep the foundations go when you're rebuilding a house. No. That's not right. More like underpinning the foundations. Which, in some ways, is even trickier. Because you have to maintain and retain all the stuff that's built on top of them while you're carrying out the remedial works to fix the groundings. And try not to wobble so much that any of it is irreparably damaged.

Scary stuff.

And, at 3:30pm I think it's time for lunch ;)

I have some pictures that I took a few months ago that I would like to share with you.  I'm not sure what would be the best way to do that.  Pasted in to a journal entry under a cut, resized to what size, use photobucket or someone else's album facility... I just don't know what to do.  Clues/advice gratefully accepted. Even if I end up throwing my hands up in despair and going for the easiest version.

Promised I'd be back, and I am, but kind of worn out and not in the mood to talk any more. Not for a while. TV, milky coffee and whisky is a good comfy combination.  Sometimes a little anaesthetic isn't a bad thing. No, I won't take it to extremes.

But I promised a post... or something. 

Goodnight.

*hugs*

Ladies, thank you for everything - I'll read in the morning, I promise ;)

Is a scary thing.  The whole 'better the devil you know' idea seems so much safer, easier, less... daunting.  Less painful.

No matter how much I crave it, I'm still scared of it.  Will it last, will it break apart, will I get what I want or will something else happen instead that I don't want, will I end up worse off than I am to start off with...  Do I deserve this change, how can I deserve it, I'm not worthy.

These thoughts are changing.  That's where it begins.  The constant brain chatter deep in the background.  Things I've been thinking about myself since... before language began, I guess.  Some of it I can date back to my earliest memories in the really, really hot summer we had before my brother was born, when I was 2 years old. 

How do you change a reality?

*shrug*

Like this.  One thought at a time.

And you take your time, you are gentle with yourself, you don't succumb to other's ideas of what you should do, how long you should take or what process to use.  That's how you got here in the process and for 30+ years it didn't work.  Time to try something new.

What if it doesn't work.  Well, you try something else.  There are lots of things out there.  You already know some of them that work for you.  Just not on this bit that you're doing at the moment.

Positive self talk.  It's a strange idea, tricky.  Seems... weird, dorky, I feel so self-conscious, talking to myself.  Which is very funny, since I do it constantly anyway.  Just I say things while I'm monitoring myself that I would never dream of saying to someone else.  Especially a friend.  Never to someone I love. 

Metamorphosis is an interesting idea.  All the shit and crap of the old self woven into a shell, a protective covering to keep the self safe, away from the elements.  While the self falls apart and is remade into something new.  It's tempting to stay in there, with soft skin, untried wings and such vulnerable newness.  But you can't breathe, can't drink, can't eat.  Existence is outside, beyond, away, so you tap at it.  And slowly, painfully, on newformed limbs weak and exhausted you dismantle the shell, burst forth, clamber out.  Butterflies need the struggle of emergence to get the blood pumping to their wings.  If they are helped too much they end up unable to fly.  That idea seems important to me, it always has.  Not sure now if it is justification for always trying to look after myself, do things on my own, not be a burden... or what it is. 

But eventually, at the end of it, you find bright colours and soft breezes and sweet nourishment for the body, mind and soul. 

Sometimes people want to help.  Sometimes it's enough just to have the encouragement.  To have someone constantly reminding you, reassuring you that you can do it, you are beautiful as you were, are, and will be, just different.  That there are flowers to come out for.  To bear witness to your struggle, that it's ok, it's going to be ok.  That you're ok, you're not doing anything wrong, anything you shouldn't do, don't deserve to do.  Whether you break a tiny hole and squeeze through, forwards, backwards, sideways, whether you obliterate the shell in an explosion and send fragments everywhere doesn't matter, as long as you come out, and they will be waiting for you.  And show you where the flowers are.  Even if your wings aren't the colour that you want or expect them to be, or you get lost or... whatever bad eventuality that you can imagine to punish yourself, they will be there.

Sensible, creative, loving people.  They support you. Me.  So that you, I can learn to support myself.

To approve of myself.

Warts and all.

Like I'm there for them, loving, supportive, approving.  Warts and all.  Even the ones that I don't know about.

My parent's oldest dog, the one they took with them from England and the last pet they had that I named passed away yesterday.  His health had been deteriorating following a couple of strokes but the last bit of downhill was kind of sudden.  He was handsome and deaf, so laid back he seemed stoned (hence the name, man) and had this habit of turning his head so he couldn't see the signals if you were telling him to do something he didn't want to do.  If he couldn't see you, then you couldn't tell him to get off the furniture.  And if you called him handsome, he'd pose in anything.

Thank you for reading.

Today is (so far) being a mostly good day with a decent mixture of working and playing.  Feeling pretty good, actually.  Maybe there was something in the 'hint of lime' flavoured Doritos.  Must get more.

I had a moment of 'fuck it all, I'm just going to get on with stuff' and that seems to have helped.  I think the meds are (at long last) kicking in, and get glimpses of the sunshine through the fog.  Of course, then the fog closes in again, but at least I know the sun is there. 

Someone in SHARE (the volunteering thing on Wednesdays) said that she felt like all her nerves were too long, like they were sticking out of her skin, picking up everything too loud, too bright, too hot, too cold.  Sometimes it feels like I don't even have any skin.  There's no barrier between me and whatever else is out there, other peoples' moods soak straight into me and I am defenceless. 

I have been thinking about WoW, LJ, other bits & pieces I've been doing - some may say that if I'm able to play, type, talk, look at houses, that then I should be able to go back to work etc.  But I feel in need of a safe place to 'practice' being alive again.  There are moods, politics, aggression and all those things that I find so hard to deal with at the moment and I can relearn.  There is also fun, and love.  Friends that really do care about me.  No matter how hard I find it to believe that sometimes, I know that it is true. 

I'm constantly checking myself.  How am I feeling.  Am I really depressed.  How depressed.  When will I be better.  Will I be well enough to go to work next week? The week after?  I follow my thought patterns with a kind of paranoia, terrified that I will catch myself thinking something I shouldn't.  They spiral and get worse.  Today it kind of stopped for a bit.  There was an activity I got into (clearing out a cupboard, of all things!) and music that filled up my head (Led Zeppelin) and I just lay still and watched the colours spin.  And when I moved again I realised I was smiling.

It's a tiny thing and a huge thing all at the same time.  And it would seem that I wanted to tell people about it, record it, celebrate it.  Make it as real as possible then roll around in it so that I pick up the scent and make it part of me.

I still need to sort out about going back to work.  Some kind of more gradual return, instead of going straight into full time.  But it is still so incredibly difficult for me to not try and work everything out for myself, to ask for help.  So that's my big thing for next week - contact Lisa and actually talk about going back to work, instead of just turning up one day.  Scary stuff. 

At least the cold is going.  I've been sleeping when I was tired, eating when hungry, leaving stuff when not and drinking more water than I wanted.  And there was Lemsip and cough mix.  The cough mix is the 'wrap you in cotton wool and make you drowsy' type.  Which might actually have more to do with how I'm doing than it should.  That is... I'm not 'under the influence' right now, but the warm/cosy/safe feeling is still somewhere nearby.  Not forgotten, not left me yet.  And if I can heal from one, I can heal from the other.  Yes, I know, completely different things.  But I have to take the same approach.  Rest if I feel I need to, achieve when I can, push when there is energy and eat as my stomach dictates, not the clock.  And to hell with what I think others think I should be doing/thinking.

I can be me.  I can be well.  I know how to heal myself.

I just have to permit it.

Hope it doesn't suck like 2007.

Probably find new and interesting ways to suck all of its own.  Yay for arbitrary counting of days!

Friday sucked.  Long story short, went to the doctor's, feeling kind of desperate.  Saw a different doctor. Talked a bit about work, how bad the day I had was.  She reviewed my meds, said there wasn't really anything else she could do with them (a couple of years ago when I was trying the self-help route, the Doc I was seeing then - who is in the same practice - kept trying to push me higher doses, strange) and to keep on with the counselling, that it would all work out and be fine in the end.  Wrote me a note to stay off work for another week.

I guess I kind of wanted a pill that would either magically make me feel OK again, or let me not be conscious until I was.

Yesterday, just for a couple of hours, I felt better enough to go to work.

Today I know I shouldn't.

Physically adept? Where's that come from?

I Am A: True Neutral Human Wizard (4th Level)


Ability Scores:

Strength-11

Dexterity-12

Constitution-8

Intelligence-17

Wisdom-13

Charisma-13


Alignment:
True Neutral A true neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. He doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most true neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil after all, he would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, he's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way. Some true neutral characters, on the other hand, commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They see good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. They advocate the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run. True neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion. However, true neutral can be a dangerous alignment because it represents apathy, indifference, and a lack of conviction.


Race:
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.


Class:
Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells.


Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus</a></b> (e-mail)