I'm getting ahead of myself. Ahead of the circumstances that life is currently affording me. You see, in the course of my daily duties at work, instead of having my mind fixed on the task at hand (tedious as it is), all my mind keeps going back to is moving back home to Maine.

I want to start making plans right now, and I am at the very least eleven months ahead of when I can begin reasonably and logically doing so. I want to start considering how to sell our house. I want to start perusing the want ads of the Portland Press Herald. I want to start looking at condos and lofts on Realtor.com with an eye toward making a purchase.

I want to start writing lists.

I am feeling a homeward pull so strong that it's almost a physical thing. Does anyone recall reading The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, where it describes the little tiny vibration that people feel, the strength of which is determined by how many miles from the place of one's birth that person is? And how Ford Prefect, having been born on a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse, feels less a tiny vibration, and more a startling shock to his system?

Yeah, it's like that.

Labels: headspace, Maine

Posted by Laura at 12:31 PM | Permalink | Comments

Related to this entry, which I linked to earlier, I have a lot of respect for John. I bet Calvin would benefit from reading that entry.

Hint, darling.

Labels: headspace, pimp

Posted by Laura at 8:49 AM | Permalink | Comments

She took the words right out of my brain.

Labels: headspace, pimp

Posted by Laura at 2:34 PM | Permalink | Comments

I worked from home yesterday (translation: I fought several fires in between drug-induced naps). Remember this entry? Yes, well, I succumbed to the inevitable. I mean, with odds like that, and an immune system like mine, the outcome of the crap shoot was a foregone conclusion.

So, I'm feeling ookey, but I'm at work today. I figure I'm all incubated and shit, so I'm no longer contagious. Of course, I'm as far away from being a doctor as a person with a Google MD can be, so what the hell do I know.

Calvin was extremely nice to me yesterday, and brought me food and drinks and medicine and hugs while I lolled around in bed and complained. A lot. I threw together some Minestrone Stew in the crock pot so that we would have steamy nummy goodness for dinner. Opening cans and frying up burger meat was about as much thought as I was prepared to put into making dinner.

Some random thoughts, the only kind my brain is capable of holding at the moment:

• This writer's strike is really irritating me. Not that I don't support them, and not that I don't think all of their points and needs are valid. No, I'm totally selfishly bemoaning the fact that all of "my" shows are over for the foreseeable future. The one I miss the most? Big Bang Theory. _{Hah! You thought it'd be Gray's Anatomy, didn't you? Shows you what I think of the current season.}


• All of my Christmas "shopping" is done, in that I have purchased one gift each for four whole people and everybody else is getting money, and that's it. Well, okay, I have one more person to buy for, and then I'll be done. This will be the CHEAPEST CHRISTMAS EVAR, which is totally in keeping with my Grinchy spirit this year. Not to mention my budget.


• Sliders are my new favorite food.


• I have added several new journals/blogs to my list of "regular reads". I recommend for your enjoyment the following: Cracked, Daily Coyote, FemMarine, Running in Wellies, and Vespa Vagabond (who is the same author for Daily Coyote).
  

To steal a line from Nance, I'm outta here.

Labels: headspace, health, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments

This is one of those times where I feel like I haven't quite mastered this whole grown-up thing. I envy Marie's frequently-expressed relief that she's moved back home with us and no longer worries about money, making ends meet... essentially, she's put off being an on-her-own adult for another little while.

I wish I could move back in with my parents. Except, how weird would that be - lack of, you know, actual existing parents aside. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know what to do with parents if I did have them. But if they were anything like how Calvin and I are toward our kids, my parents could be counted on to pick up the pieces, kiss the boo-boos, ride to the rescue, and provide the vehicle for bailing me out of pretty much any situation.

Heh. How backwards is that. If I had a mom I'd want her to be just like me.

Maybe that's a little sad, too, as well as backwards. Perhaps I should not dwell on that thought.

It's not that I don't like being an adult. I wouldn't go back to being a teenager if my life depended on it. Okay, well perhaps ONLY if my life depended on it. My teenage years, wonderful though many aspects of them were, weren't exactly what I would call fraught with fond memories. I was overly serious, studious, responsible, and worried. Very representative of the attitudes that are continuing on to this day. The difference is, when you're a responsible teenager people express their admiration at the wonder and rarity that is you. When you're a responsible adult, well, you're just doing your damn job.

I need to stop comparing my attitudes as a teenager and young adult to the attitudes of the teenager and young adult I'm occupied with parenting. I've turned into one of those, "Back in MY day, things were different," sorts.

Which isn't to say (again) that I'm looking for accolades. Really, I'm just rambling along with this entry. I do a lot. I don't do enough. I'm busy. I'm bored. I want to be flippin' patted on my head and told I'm doing a good job. I want to be told everything's going to be okay. I want to be surrounded by loved ones. I want to be left alone. I want to have control. I want to be taken care of. I want to be a center of calm. I want to throw a massive tantrum.

Apparently, I want to be conflicted. Mostly, I want to turn off my brain.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:48 PM | Permalink | Comments

I want to take a long, hot bubble bath tonight, but it's McThursday so that may or may not happen. The Necessary needs to get done before 8:00 - working out, soaking the lizards (heh, that sounds naughty, but I mean it literally) and feeding them worms, making and consuming dinner (which does not involve worms), and doing the Night Chores (mail, coffee, work clothes, not making my lunch for tomorrow because Jen and I have plans to go out). I like to have everything done before Marie and I sit down to watch Grey's Anatomy together. So the bubble bath may have to wait.

I want it to be cold. I want to nest and I can't nest while it's still ninety-frickin-degrees outside. I just put together the menus for Thanksgiving and Christmas and have my shopping lists. I'm all about the cooking, and I'm really looking forward to next Friday afternoon when I can call myself officially "off". I plan on cooking a lot, but just what I don't know yet (other than the aforementioned Thanksgiving Menu). I think I'll look through my lovely collection of cookbooks and pick out something new each day - I might even try baking my own BREAD, for gosh's sake. Look at me, planning my own spontaneity - it's not like the grocery store is that far away so if something strikes my fancy and I don't have all the ingredients immediately to hand, it's not a bother. I'll have to watch out for the impulse buys, though. I'm worse at that in the grocery store than in any other kind of store.

I'm really crossing my fingers that the cold weather sets in by the time I'm off. I don't know why it's so important to me, but it is. Temperatures below 70 degrees are absolutely necessary for me to enjoy this season. I'm trying to generate my own happiness here before I go nuts with the homesickness, and a little cool weather would be helpful.

This entry doesn't have an ending, it just kind of stops. Right here.

Labels: food, headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

Last night I succumbed to such hysterical laughter that I cried. I was so pissed off about something that I broke into hysterics. I just pointed stiff fingers at Calvin and said, "Raaaaaage." Then laughed, and laughed, in a very maniacal way. I couldn't stop laughing. It was psychotic. Tears rolled down my face, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't stop myself. It was like I was having a seizure. Except that endorphins are endorphins, even if the laughter was rage-induced. So after I finally got a hold of myself I felt really good for a while.

Calvin thinks I'm a little bit crazy.

When a person suffers from depression, it never just goes away. You're never cured, you just manage it until it goes into hiding, and when it comes back again you manage it again. It's a disease that there is no complete escape from, it just goes into remission now and then.

At this moment in time I am choosing to manage my depression through non-pharmaceutical methods. I cook, I clean, I write, I exercise, I read, I watch movies and TV, I wrestle with Calvin. Some days are better than others. Some hours are better than others. I've been struggling a bit over the past month. Decided for about a week to go back on a prescription. Gave it up in anger at myself because I felt like I was taking the easy way out. I can find ways to re-wire my brain on my own, without drugs, dammit.

I take a lot of naps. Something about depression makes me tired. I know I'm trying to avoid my own mind by turning it off.

Lately I've been wishing that I was someone else. Someone else inside my head. I don't want a different life with different people, I just want to swap brains with one that is whole, calm, and at peace. I have a good life - I'm married to my best friend, I have a decent job, I have a nice home, and all of my material needs are met. The only specific things that I am unhappy about are money and the fact that we don't live in Maine. Last night Calvin assured me we would get there, someday, we just have to figure out how.

The knowledge that he's on board with moving back home, and that he's going to help me figure out how to dig us out of debt, is very comforting to me. I don't remember being depressed when I lived in Maine. Granted, I was nineteen when I moved away, but is that the variable that will switch my brain back to normal? It certainly can't hurt, that's for sure.

I asked Calvin last night if he ever wanted to be someone else. He said not permanently, but he wouldn't mind inhabiting the body of Kate Beckinsale's husband for a weekend. That's my guy.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 8:24 AM | Permalink | Comments

Ahhhh. The summer, she is finally over. It was in the 70's and 80's all weekend long, and this morning it's 60 degrees. We rode around on Calvin's motorcycle Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can't on the offhand recall where we went on Friday, but Saturday we went to Mill Avenue for the MOST AWESOME-EST cheeseburgers EVAR, and on Sunday we went for a ride through the foothills before hitting Rock Bottom for a couple of beers and appetizers.

Zoe and Oz are driving me BATSHIT this morning. They want to be together, but they don't. I have this (marvellous) routine in the morning where I lock Zoe in the weight room so she can eat and poo in peace without Oz all, "Whatcha doin? Are you my friend yet?" I feed Oz, per usual, in his dish in the "cat closet". He eats three bites (if that), then hightails it (heh) back to the weight room door to talk to Zoe under the crack, rattle the handle (like I said, I have to LOCK the door so he doesn't open it), come in my room where I am steadfastly working (or, you know, writing an entry), fuss at me to LEEEEEET him IIIIINNNNN, then when I finally open the door so she can come out/he can go in, instead of acting like long-separated lovers they FIT at each other for the rest of the day. Oz just follows Zoe around from hiding place to hiding place. Occasionally they can stand to be in the same space (sitting in front of the screen door, hanging out on/in the bathtub) for about five minutes, then suddenly Zoe will look at Oz like he's grown horns and gets all, "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!?" And she fits, and hisses, and growls, and Oz is all, "Geez, woman, PMS is a bitch, innit?"

Plus, you know how Marie is moving back in? Well, so is her dog. In the past two weeks we added another cat AND another dog as permanent additions to the household. Current count for those of you playing at home is two cats, three dogs, two bearded dragons, and a snake. All of whom I get to take care of. I am not kidding, nor am I exaggerating, when I say that I spend a total of probably two hours a day, split between morning and evening, taking care of the animals. AND it seems I will have to take Cheeto to the vet, as the poor dear is constipated. We can't have a constipated lizard on our hands, now can we?

Yeesh. At this point I am SO qualified to be a vet.

Anyway. Last week's drama is calming down a bit, but I still have anxiety up the wazoo. Marie was having troubles with her ex-boyfriend that resulted in us having to ride to her rescue in the middle of a work day. She'd moved all of his belongings - i.e. all of the furniture (she is apparently a strong black woman trapped in that teeny white girl's body) - out onto the patio of her apartment. Ex-BF was blowing up her phone with threats and angst, she called us. We showed up, then HE showed up with his brother to get his stuff. Argument ensued during which he and his brother got all up in Calvin's face.

Ahem.

SO! Calvin deterred that shit right there, then phoned the police. Who very promptly showed up to supervise the removal of the furniture and belay comments thrown from the Ex-BF in Marie's general direction. In the meantime the Ex-BF's mom showed up, and we got to witness first hand where her son got his charming personality. They left, the police left, we left, then went down to the court house to get proceedings started on a restraining order.

So, that was fun.

AAAAAANNNNNNNND then I discovered fraudulent charges against my checking account. It seems that Calvin's debit card number has been compromised. So I got to deal with that last week. On top of the refrigerator dying, buying a new refrigerator, waiting around for said refrigerator to be delivered, spending $300 on groceries to replace those lost, dealing with Marie's ex-BF, dealing with New Pet Issues, and everything else that normal life dishes up when one has a full time job and a more-than-full-time life.

Current tally: angsty shit - 10, Laura's ability to cope - 0.

BUT! Calvin and I are going to see Jersey Boys again tomorrow with Calvin's sister and her husband. I am looking forward to that like nobody's business - probably even more than I was looking forward to seeing it the first time, and despite the fact that I have had "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" firmly entrenched in my brain for, like, ever.

(baaa DA baaa DA baaa da DA da da...) "I love you baby..."

Labels: headspace, home, journal, kids, motorcycle, pets

Posted by Laura at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Once again waiting related to a fridge. This time, it's the new one that's supposed to be delivered SOMETIME today. I spent an hour throwing away a metric ton of spoiled food and cleaning behind/under the old refrigerator. Whatever the ook was that was back there is cancer-causing, I'm positive.

Right now I am putting together a grocery list of epic proportions. In keeping with my plan to create moments of happiness for myself, I have decided to kick my cooking hobby back into gear and make two new dinner recipes and one new dessert recipe per week. This week, well, I'm going overboard. Beef stroganoff is lined up for tonight, stuffed peppers on Saturday, Jamblaya on Sunday, and Enchilada Chowder next Thursday (standbys of burgers, tuna noodles, spaghetti, and the best meatloaf in the world fill out the rest of the days in the week, if you're curious). Plus I'm planning on making my grandmother's apple cake and her pumpkin bread this weekend.

My diet is taking a firm back seat to my happiness at the moment.

I don't remember if I mentioned it or not, but Calvin and I went to see Jersey Boys last Saturday at Gammage Auditorium. The show was ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. Even Calvin loved it, and he's not a musical kind of guy. If you don't know much about them, check this out (be patient through the Sopranos tribute stuff). This was their performance at the Emmy's this year, and WAY doesn't do justice to the entire production:



This was the performance that prompted Calvin to suggest that we get tickets when they were in town (quoth I, "You do realize that this is a musical? Where people randomly dance about and burst into song?"). Which they are now. We might even go again, it was THAT good. Plus, of course, we went out on Calvin's birthday and bought a couple of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons CD's. "Walk Like a Man", "Can't Take My Eyes Off You", "December 1963", "Grease", "Who Loves You", and "My Eyes Adored You" have been on constant spin around here.

Loved the show. LOVED. IT. Go see it so we can still be friends.

You know? There's a CRAPTASTIC load of drama going on around here, but now that I've gotten to this point in the entry, I am in no mood to write about it right now. So you'll have to wait in barely restrained anticipation until I work up the gumption to put all the crap into some semblance of cohesion.

Labels: best things, food, headspace, home, journal, kids

Posted by Laura at 12:36 PM | Permalink | Comments

I am and always have been an proponent of the theory that true happiness comes in little bits and pieces. Oh sure, sometimes the "big happy" comes along - an unexpected win, a vacation you didn't think you'd be able to swing but then pulled off, a relative who didn't actually have to die in order to give you their heaps and heaps of cash, just because they wanted to be around to see you enjoy it.

You know, that kind of thing.

For the most part, though, happiness comes along and hangs out with you for a little while. For an afternoon, a day, the length of a favorite song. It comes in the form of a rainy afternoon or a new recipe that falls under the category of "make again -- soon". And you stop, acknowledge the little upwelling of good feeling, and move along with life with that little feeling lingering in the background for a while.

Day to day life can be neither "happy" or "negative". It is what it is, as Calvin is wont to say lately. You live, you work, you do your thing. There exists neutrality to most of life in which there is nothing to say "woo!" over, but also nothing to say "waah!" over.

Amongst this day to day thing-doing, however, there are little bits and pieces of good, and fun, and positive. My belief is that your life - or to break it down into more manageable chunks, your day - is what you make of it. "Fake it till ya make it" is a favorite expression of my own. Push yourself to be in a good mood until you are. Search for your happiness, even amongst the shit, until you find it. Because it IS there, somewhere. Buried, sometimes, but present.

I think we as people tend to have an "all or nothing" attitude about happiness. People want to be euphoric all the time, and if they aren't then that must mean their life is the suck. It just doesn't work that way. Every day brings a little of both pleasure and pain - some days its a lot of one and a little of the other. And it just doesn't tend to balance out in the end with life's experiences tallied evenly between negative and positive. We are, as a species, full of angst. Which is why we need to look for, find, acknowledge, accept, and create for ourselves those small moments, those little pockets of peace.

Being happy takes effort.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:45 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm not having the best of days.

Calvin and I had a big ol' argument last night, which is extremely rare and never fun. I am left with a general feeling of anxiety and unhappiness. I'm not sure of the resolution.

School continues to be a concern, as AcronymCo pulled their support of the school I was going to, and subsequently I have to transfer to an approved school if I want to continue to get tuition reimbursement. I may or may not have to take my SAT's. At 33. The very idea.

I am working quite hard to get fit and lose weight, and yet the scale persists in its stubborn refusal to move. Though it is not moving UP, it is also not moving DOWN. This angers me.

Work is work and although nothing BAD is happening there to upset me, I am completely bored in a disconcertingly mind-numbing way.

Hellooooo depression. You motherfucker.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 9:50 AM | Permalink | Comments

Fallout Boy is suiting my mood today.

I am so ready for summer to be over. I'm being forced to be inside in a worse way than snow ever did to me. Living for winter is totally throwing off my circadian rhythm. My inclination is to greet May with something close to ecstacy and October with something akin to dread. Right now I just wish to fast foward to, say, November 16th. That's a Friday. In November. When it will likely be in the 80's here. The 80's are acceptable when one is writing from 112. I would wish it even cooler, though... say the 50's that November represents in Maine.

Sigh.

I wish that when I shut the house down for the night (lights out, doors locked, TV off, etc.) it stayed that way. Instead I usually wake up (am awakened) several times in the night and discover Michael watching TV, talking on the phone, talking to other people in my house in the middle of the night, fixing food in the kitchen, going in and out of the back door a MILLION times a night because he's a dirty nasty smoker... at all hours. Today when Calvin's cell went off at 5:00 a.m. (GROWL), the TV in the living room was still on. The thing is, I can't sleep in a settled manner knowing that there are still people coming and going and stirring and MAKING NOISE all through the night. Will the front door still be locked, the garage door closed? Will someone accidentally let the cat out? Will I emerge from my bedroom at 2:00 in the morning in order to scold the noise-maker, only to discover three or four strangers along with said noise-maker? My home is not my own, and it's really frickin' getting to me.

I am doing purposeful things to adjust my state of mind. Today at lunch I walked the route through the campus buildings (see aforementioned note about having to stay inside, grumpety grump) and listened to my iPod. I just had to get away from my desk, because people (for some strange reason) are straight PISSING ME RIGHT OFF TODAY. The tedium of my job sometimes grips me in such an overwhelming manner that I am extremely close to giving in to the temptation to scream my head off, right here in the middle of the cubicle jungle. Or else I will kill that annoying cubicle neighbor of mine that talks at the top of his lungs all day every day and condescends to every person that he communicates with. Or maybe I'll send that nasty-gram BEFORE proof reading it, walking away, walking back, reading it again, saving it without sending it, walking away, walking back, editing it to remove all the references to "fucker" and "shithead" and "total complete asshat", and sending a final and much more professionally acceptable version.

Calvin is having, if anything, a much worse day (and week, actually), than I am. We have once again talked and dreamed of selling everything, leaving Arizona, and living off the land somewhere. Perhaps work for a convenience store. Grow our own food. Learn to like the taste of squirrel. Somewhere with fresh air and peaches. Something, anything, to end this rat race that we are currently enduring. We know we are blessed with great jobs that support our lovely home. But really, a double-wide out in the woods somewhere is starting to look MIGHTY appealing.

Technically, I own the land in Maine that my sister and her family currently reside upon. I could blaze a driveway and dig a well and set up shop right next door to them, and regale you all with tales of our mighty fine adventures. With the naked dancing around the bonfire with the beer and the chickens. Ay-yup.

Current "Fave" iPod playlist:

The (After) Life of the Party - Fallout Boy
Animal - Def Leppard
Black Sweat - Prince
Born to Run - Springstein
Dancing Queen - Abba
Shipping up to Boston - Dropkick Murphys
Everyday - Dave Matthews
Eyes - Rogue Wave
Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne
Glory Days - Springstein
Guitar - Prince
Hey There Delilah - Plain White T's
Hot in the City - Billy Idol
I Don't Wanna Be In Love - Good Charlotte
I Love a Rainy Night - Eddie Rabbit
I'm a Loser Baby - Beck
Makes Me Wonder - Maroon Five
Me Love - Sean Kingston (thanks to Marie for that one!)
Move Along - All American Rejects
Number One in Heaven - Nemesis
Oh, It's Love - Hellogoodbye
On the Dark Side - Eddie and the Cruisers
Read My Mind - The Killers
Scotty Doesn't Know - Lustra (Eurotrip Soundtrack)
Short Skirt/Long Jacket - Cake
So Alive - Love and Rockets
Steal My Sunshine - Len
The Story - Brandi Carlile
Sunday Mornings - Maroon Five
Thanks for the Memories - Fallout Boy
This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race - Fallout Boy
Turn on Me - The Shins
The Way You Make Me Feel - Michael Jackson
Where Does the Good Go - Tegan and Sara (my new favorite song)
Word Up - Korn

Labels: headspace, home, insomnia, music, work

Posted by Laura at 1:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

The anniversary of my Grandmother's death is on the 18th. It's been six years. If you had asked me before her passing if I could imagine a world without her in it for even one minute, I would have said it was impossible. But here I am, surviving after six whole years, and it still hurts.

Tears are closer to the surface around this time of year. Depression is harder to fend off. And I always think of Heather, whose own "bad anniversary" is this time of year, too. She lost her mom around the same time I lost Grandma. Her friendship and commiseration were a great comfort to me during the awful first months after Grandma's passing, and I hope Heather can say the same about my friendship.

Thinking about Grandma also starts up the homesickness, since my memories of Maine are part and parcel with my memories of Grandma. I went to Maine twice this year. I didn't visit her grave either time. I think I was subconsciously avoiding it. I feel like a bad granddaughter. But I think about her all of the time, so is that an equal tribute to placing flowers on her place of rest? I don't know.

I had a conversation with my uncle when Calvin and I were home in May. I think he was troubled that I miss my grandmother much more than I miss my mother. I think it upset him that my grandmother's death effected me in a much more profound way, than did the death of my mother. His relationship with my mother was an extremely close one. I think he understands intellectually, but not emotionally, that I didn't really bond with my mother the way I did with my grandmother. I hardly saw my mother when I was small - she died when I was 8, and my early childhood memories more involve other people taking care of me than my mother. My mother worked nights and slept days, and was often in the hospital. My grandmother, my aunt, and my sister all took turns taking care of me.

Then, after my mother passed away, I went to live with my grandmother. It was an easy transition, given how much time I already spent with her. My real childhood happened at Grandma's, with Grandma. So it's no wonder that her house is "home" to me, rather than the house I lived in with my mother. It's no wonder her memory is the one I conjure when I'm craving a mother figure.

Obviously, I still feel guilty. Guilt and death are often hand-in-hand, I've found. I didn't do enough, I didn't say enough, I didn't show enough. Even after six years, it eats at me. And, I suppose, even after twenty-five.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments

A quote from my entry from May 18th

"I just sat and breathed for a long, long time. It felt so good to be there, and when it came time to leave I kept stopping and looking around to try to infuse my spirit and mind with the peace I felt there. The whole trip was filled with moments like this, as I tried to take away as much of Maine as I could, not knowing the next time I would be able to be there again."

Okay, so apparently "next time" is June 21st, 2007. If you had told me then that I'd be back in Maine barely a month later, I'd have accused you of hitting the peace pipe.

I am very excited about my trip, and very nervous about my interview. I have hit Factiva and printed out a bunch of information about this company and the industry in which it dwells, and I plan to study up on the flight so I can wow them with my "expertise". Heh.

Calvin and I went shopping last weekend and I bought a new suit for the occasion. I feel very swank in it.

Calvin and I are trying not to put the cart in front of the horse, here, but we've done a lot of "what if" discussions should a rapid departure from Arizona be imminent. And we've looked at houses on Realtor.com. We really like this one. Wish we were in the position to buy now, because when we ARE ready, this puppy will have been sold.

Such is our timing on this whole situation. We're not ready to move, but we're ready for a change. We're not ready to sell, but we want to buy.

Cart, horse, etc. I haven't even gotten the job yet, so all of this woolgathering and angst and "what ifs" may as yet be moot.

I'll post about how it all went on Saturday night or Sunday morning. In the meantime, cross your fingers for me!

Labels: headspace, Maine, work

Posted by Laura at 2:23 PM | Permalink | Comments

Hey you guys, thanks to all the folks who have been leaving me such nice comments and sending me such nice e-mails, wishing me well on my upcoming interview. I'm trying not to mind-frack (heh, been watching BSG) myself over this, but it's hard.

I'm torn. Almost exactly half of me wants them to make an offer I can accept, and almost exactly half of me hopes they don't make an offer. If I get the offer, Calvin and I will be plunged into a whirlwind of departure prep, up to and including getting the house ready for sale. We would have to live apart for an undetermined amount of time. BUT we would finally have a foothold in Maine, which is where I've wanted to be for, oh, 14 YEARS.

If they don't make an offer, Calvin and I are free to make a more controlled exit from Arizona. We can continue to pay down our debt, fix the house up in a more leisurely manner, and then job hunt when we're more prepared to make a move.

I applied to that job on a whim, not really figuring that anything would come of it. So I guess if something does come of it, it was "meant to be".

It's nerve wracking, though.

Labels: goals, headspace, Maine, work

Posted by Laura at 1:33 PM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday I dropped Calvin off at the airport, went to Trader Joe's and stocked up on salads for my lunches and dinners for this week (I do NOT cook for myself if I don't have to - this behavior hearkens back to when I was single and eating plates of asparagus for dinner), got home, folded/hung up/otherwise put away five loads of clean laundry, got the call from the company in Maine for me to fly out and interview with them next week, freaked out a little bit, did some work-work, washed and dried the sheets and put them back on the bed, talked to Calvin when he landed in Texas, did some more work-work, dusted and de-cluttered the bedroom, talked to Calvin as he was driving from the airport to his hotel, cleaned the kitchen for an HOUR (even though that is MICHAEL'S JOB but I was sick of seeing the mess after three days of not getting done and apparently the "talk" that Calvin had with him last week did LOADS of good), talked to Calvin when he got to his hotel room, worked out, fed the dogs, fed the cat, fed the lizards, fed myself, talked to Calvin while he was at a restaurant eating his dinner, read off and on, got the coffee ready for the morning, packed my lunch for the next day, read some more, talked to Calvin before he went to bed, then went to bed myself at about 9:30.

When Calvin is away I tend to keep myself busy. Tonight I plan on giving the dogs a bath, moving Lucy to her own tank because Cheeto keeps picking on her, watching the next disc in season two of Battlestar Galactica, and probably reading some more.

As of yesterday, Marie is officially moved out. I say officially, even though she's been pretty much living with her boyfriend for a couple of months, because she removed all of her clothing, her stereo, and her snake. She and her boyfriend are sharing a house with another friend of theirs (they were staying at his mom's house before), about two minutes away from our house. She doesn't want me to come over and see their place until "everything is put away and set up and CLEAN". Heh. They went shopping for towels and linens and bedding yesterday. Heh again. I remember when that kind of stuff used to be sooooo coooool. Playing house is fun, in the beginning.

I haven't seen much of Michael since he got his motorcycle back up and running on Sunday night. I'm kind of annoyed at him right now, for the whole not-doing-the-kitchen thing, among other things. Calvin's talking-to should have had him stepping up and doing his chores and LOOKING for other things to do around the house, just to please us. I also researched and printed up a LOOOONG list of potential jobs that he could be applying to, since he doesn't make enough at his current job to enable him to move out, and he didn't seem inclined to do the research himself. To my knowledge, he hasn't followed up on any of those. Calvin told Michael that he had to be out by August 31st, and that we needed to see a plan from him on how he's going to be out by then. So far, not a peep of what he's done or what he's doing or what he's going to do. When he is around, he's either asleep or upstairs with his girlfriend. When he isn't around, he's either at work or hanging out elsewhere with his girlfriend.

So, I am frustrated. It got to the point a long time ago where I am just as civil to him as the situation warrants, but I don't go out of my way to talk or be nice or much of anything. My shoulders creep up to my ears and my neck ceases up when I hear him come home, and I pretty much just want to close myself in my bedroom and avoid dealing with him altogether. I feel guilty for feeling this way, until I remind myself that his behavior has eroded away my good regard of him until there is not much left but this feeling I have right now.

Michael is the type of person where you can have a "talk" with him, and even yell at him, and even maybe have an argument, and the next day (sometimes that very same day) he will expect everything to be just dandy. As if to say, "What, you're still mad at me? But that was yesterday." He's been eroding away my good regard for a long time, so it's going to take the same amount of time on good behavior to get my good regard back. I don't think he understands this.

And according to my estimation, "good behavior" hasn't even started yet. The issues I've mentioned here are not an all-inclusive list, to be sure.

I haven't been writing about this because I don't want him to read it and get his feelings hurt. But dammit, MY feelings are hurt - have been GETTING hurt for months now - and this is my journal, and I'm not saying anything OF him that hasn't been said TO him, so here I am.

I feel a little bit better now.

Labels: blogthings, Calvin, headspace, journal, kids, misc

Posted by Laura at 1:57 PM | Permalink | Comments

My ability to cope seems to have taken a hiatus today. I'm stressy - the stressors are no different today than they were yesterday, but for some reason they're on my conscious mind today and messing with me.

I had a job interview over the phone with a company in Maine this morning. It went well, I think... they like it when you ask them questions instead of abandoning the interview as soon as the, "Tell me about a time when..." questions are over with. Conversely, the success of the interview started me worrying - what if they actually offer me a job and the compensation is enough to make it worth our while to move to Maine? Will we be able to sell the house? What will the kids do? Should I leave AcronymCo with my tenure and four weeks of vacation a year and another sabbatical coming up in two years? Will Calvin be able to find a job? Will he want to kill himself (or me) halfway through the first winter? Will convenient access to J's Oysters be enough to compensate for that? Will we have to live apart for an undetermined amount of time??? God forbid on that one.

Did you know that acid reflux feels remarkably similar to anxiety? I just took a Rolaids (I've been living off of 'em, and Tums, and Mylanta, and Pepto...), and I have another appointment with the doc the first week of June. So is my physical discomfort causing my stressy feeling, or is my stressy feeling causing my physical discomfort? ("Yes.")

One at a time, the things I'm stressing over are not hugely urgent. But together for some reason they feel like they're taking me over. And it's not like they're unresolvable, panic-inducing concerns. I'm just being a BDB (that's Big Damn Baby) today.

Problem: The house is a complete disaster.
Solution: Clean it until it is clean.

Problem: The truck is still in the shop.
Solution: I have a rental car, so I am still mobile. And the truck's under warranty.

Problem: The kids (well, Michael primarily) have not left the nest.
Solution: Have a serious discussion with them (him) tonight about what their (his) plans are.

Problem: There are many things we need to do to the house to prep it for potential sale.
Solution: Get a storage unit this weekend and get started offloading the clutter. Make a list of all the stuff that needs to get done.

Problem: My health.
Solution: Doc's appointments next week and the week following, plus a renewed (again!) determination to eat better and exercise regularly. Until I give up again next week.

Problem: The sprinkler/drip system is on the fritz.
Solution: I have contacted our landscaper to get us a new control box.

Problem: We (I) are (am) still conflicted about moving, jobs, staying, going... will we progress or will uprooting ourselves send us into a spiralling descent into destruction that will leave us having to work for the rest of our lives?
Solution: Beer.

Labels: goals, headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments

I'll do the entry on the last few days of our vacation soon, but there are other things on my mind that are interrupting my thought processes.

I'm feeling pretty discouraged today. The most minor contributor to that is that my back is out, again. I turned wrong and dared to *breathe* at the same time, and out it went. The pain radiates from underneath my left shoulder blade up my shoulder and neck. It's nearly impossible to sit or lay comfortably. I drove Calvin crazy last night with all of my tossing and turning.

Stress is what causes this particular issue. It flares up a few times a year - I just got over one bout of it before we went on vacation, and hark! Here it is again. I don't know why but I carry all of my stress in this one area of my body. I'll have to find another cranio sacral therapist, since mine is only in Arizona a couple of days a month.

Of more concern is Calvin's youngest sister and a bunch of negativity she is going through right now. I don't want to disregard her privacy by writing about it all here, but suffice to say we're worried about her and her family. She was in a car accident on Friday and while she and her son (who was with her) are okay, it's just a culmination of a long history of negativity, bad luck, bad choices, and issues in general.

Finally there is Michael. On Saturday night he wrecked the motorcycle with him and his girlfriend on it. They're both okay - major road rash for him, more minor for her. Cosmetic damage for the most part to the bike; it looks like they just layed it over on its right side and skid along for a while. It's the damage to their helmets that gave us the most pause - scrapes and dents that would have represented major damage to their heads, had they not been wearing their helmets.

As I said to Calvin yesterday: "Of all the lessons that we've tried to teach Michael that he's disregarded, I just thank God that wearing his helmet was the one lesson he chose to listen to us about."

Calvin and I talked about getting a storage unit this morning, so we can start off-loading our clutter and neatening things up around the house to prepare it for sale. We need to feel like we're moving forward with our goals, if only in the smallest degrees. Some day we will look up after all of these baby steps and find the culmination of our goals staring us in the face.

It can't come too soon for me. Cross your fingers, I have a phone interview with a company in Maine on Friday morning. I'm not really expecting anything to come of it, but it heartened me that someone had an interest in my resume!

Labels: headspace, journal, kids

Posted by Laura at 10:11 AM | Permalink | Comments

A post about what's goin' on.

Calvin and I decided to make our Maine trip a total vacation trip, instead of spending half of it in a seminar. We've had some major stress over the past couple of weeks, with health concerns going on with both of us, plus work, plus the kids, plus plus plus...

The upshot is that we just really need a decompression break. A week during which there will be no thinking about serious shit - something that we have been doing waaaay too much of over the past couple of weeks. So there will be more time for walking on the beach, visiting the lighthouses, prowling around the Old Port, and hanging with the family. The seminar can wait when our mental well-being is much more important.

I talked to my girlfriend AB last Sunday night, and she (and her daughter) were so shocked that I called that I felt like a complete choad. If your friends are shocked when you call, that means that you don't call enough. I shall try to be a better friend from this point forward.

Speaking of which, I called my sister three different times and left messages, and she hasn't called me back. So now I think she kind of sucks and she's going to have to work to get back into my good graces. Buying me an italian sandwich and having a bonfire at her house comes to mind.

Whenever I "hear" Lucy's voice in my head, she "sounds" like Ivana Trump. Cheeto "sounds" like Bill Murray (ala Garfield). Gadget "sounds" like Hammy from Over the Hedge (Steve Carell). Gypsy "sounds" like Caroline Rhea. And Oz sounds like Stewie from Family Guy (Seth MacFarlane). My imagination is a very strange place.

Cheeto and Lucy have been thrashing around in their tank all morning long - chasing from perch to perch, Cheeto bobbing and Lucy waving, both of them traipsing through their veggies and creating general mayhem. Just a few moments ago Lucy crawled back under one of the logs where she's spent most of her time for the past few months. Bearded dragons brumate (a semi-hibernation) for part of the year - usually the winter months. Her clock must be off, though, because it's in the (fucking) 90's and sunny 90% of the time. I think maybe their tank is too small and she's sleeping a lot because she's depressed. That's what I do when I'm depressed, anyway - crawl under a log (or the covers) and sleep it off. I think we'll get them a rabbit cage to set out in the sun on the lawn for them to hang out in on nice afternoons.

Michael bought Calvin's sport bike off of him, and now he's (Michael) constantly pestering him (Calvin) to go for a ride. The boy is hyper. And today is his 24th birthday. Lilly called and put the boys on with their birthday wishes - Calvin got to talk to them, too. As it was, like, 6:30 in the morning, I was still unconscious. X(f) (Michael and Marie's mom, for those of you who haven't plowed through all of the journal archives) is taking Michael to a baseball game tonight. Marie was not invited. That kind of ticks me off. It has been several years, now, since Marie and X(f) have spoken. But X(f) speaks to Michael quite often. I don't get that woman.

I have been tanning, a couple of times a week, at this place that is exactly two minutes away from my house. At first I was totally claustrophobic in the TANNING COFFIN OF DOOM, but I got used to it after the first few visits. I started at six minutes, worked my way up to eight, and now I'm a total pro at ten minutes. I'm a hussy and I tan nekkid - I thought I'd give you that mental image as a bonus, just for being such good readers. I kind of like the process over laying out in the sun, since it's so much quicker and I don't have to expose anyone to seeing me in a bathing suit. The only problem is that you get weird negative areas in your tan, like under your arms and on your tailbone. I don't think I'll keep up with it for very much longer - my purchased month of "all you can tan!" is over on the first, and I doubt I'll go beyond that. It was just one of those whims I got one day when I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Damn, girl, you are one pasty looking bee-otch!"

I got an MRI on Monday, looking for issues beyond the pancreatitis. THAT was an interesting experience. It was cold, noisy, sensory-depriving, and much less horrid than the CT-scan I got a couple of weeks ago (no IV! no needles! no problem!). I wore elastic waisted jogging pants and a t-shirt with no bra (woo-woo!), so I didn't have to further demean myself by wearing the svelte little gowns they give you. The scanner-man was very nice and encouraged me all along the way, asking frequently through the monitor if I was okay. I wore headphones that channelled 98.7 The Peak FM, which cut out every time he spoke to me. It seemed weird to call my "Yep, okay in here," into the air, but the MRI Tunnel O' Love had a microphone through which he could hear me. Then it was 35 minutes of "Deep breath in, blow your breath out, deep breath in, and hoooold your breath..." At least he told me how long I was going to have to hold it (16 seconds, 28 seconds, 22 seconds...), so I could do a mental countdown. During two scans - one eight minutes long and one five minutes long - I just had to lay still and breathe normally. All I had to do was listen to the "EEEEEHHHHHHHH... CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK... EEEEEEHHHHHHHH", which pretty much drowned out the music. Despite the noise I almost fell asleep, then had to rouse myself for some more "... and hoooold your breath." After every breath holding session, the scanner-man would be all like, "That was very good!" Uh, thanks? I've been practicing.

I got a message yesterday afternoon from the doc's, and the scan came back normal. I still want to look at it, though, and check out what my innards look like. I bet there's kittens and posies and sparkly things all up in there.

Labels: headspace, journal, Maine, vacation

Posted by Laura at 11:03 AM | Permalink | Comments

My day is NOT starting off well. I slept like crap last night because my back is killing me, and when the alarm went off the first thought that entered my mind was, "Oh, this is bullshit." So I got up to get situated on the couch with my laptop, and when I went to look for the ice pack in the freezer to help alleviate my back pain, it was gone. Which doesn't surprise me, since lately it seems like every time I go to look for something to end some sort of misery I'm in, it's been taken. Last week it was my allergy medication, a couple of weeks ago it was cookies, this morning it's the ice pack.

I really, REALLY can't wait until the occupancy of this household is decreased. It is one child in particular that is ALWAYS taking things, and I'm really sick of it. That's all I'm saying.

Every morning my boss meets with the folks from manufacturing and then sends an e-mail to the folks in my group with all of the help needed for the day. Invariably my name is always all over the thing. Because I'm special that way. Well, he did say during my review that he wants me to become the "go-to" person. Guess he got his wish... not exactly mine, though. There's nothing like a half-dozen or more "gotta have it NOW" things shot at you first thing in the morning to get your day started off right!

Then Calvin just called me, and the guy that was responsible for hiring him into his company just resigned. It doesn't mean that much will change for Calvin's job, but this was one of the "good guys" and things will just be a little more of the suck now that he's leaving. Which got us talking along the lines of what we want to do and how we want to make our lives happier, which THEN got us down the conversational thread of how much we don't like what we're doing with our lives right now.

AND the cat is about to get murdered because he's just PISSING ME OFF. If I don't feed him as soon as my feet hit the floor when I get up in the morning, he starts looking for things to that will get him in trouble. His hope is that since I'm up to chase him away from whatever badness he's doing (because yelling at him SO doesn't work), I'll just go ahead and feed him since I'm up already. And the fucker is right. I've had to yell at him (again, ineffectually) for jumping up at the water dragon, trying to paw a soda can down off of the half-wall, messing with the wiring behind the TV, scuffling around under the couch, and jumping up on the kitchen counter. The little asshole.

I've got an MRI scheduled for 11:30, then a girly-doctor appointment for 3:30. Since going to the doctors has now become my least favorite thing to do, this double-appointment day is not helping things.

Feh. It's just going to be a bad day. At 9:30, I can just tell.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, health, journal, kids, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin and I have been talking about moving over the past couple of days. How to get started, what the steps are, where to move to and what to do for jobs when we get there, what the point of it all is. Calvin hems and haws at moving, first falling on the side of enthusiasm, then falling on the side of protest. I call him a chicken and accuse him of being stubborn and unenthusiastic and change-adverse. And yet, I need to be kinder and remember what it was like when I first contemplated moving away from Maine. One side of my mind was excited, the other side extremely sad. The extremely sad side dominated and has stayed present in the forefront ever since.

I don't want Calvin to experience the same crushing homesickness that I have. And it's not fair of me to assume that he wouldn't, just because I don't happen to like living in Arizona. It's where he was born and grew up. His roots are here, although most of them are paved over with mini-malls. So though I can't for the life of me see how anyone could develop a sense of home and rightness about this place, I must assume that it is indeed possible, and that my husband feels affection for our current home state.

I want him to hate it here as much as I do, but that's just mean. And unfair. I want him to want to get away as badly as I do, but I can't force the feeling onto him and I shouldn't want to.

It comes to this - I can't imagine ever being happy here. But can I stay for the sake of Calvin's happiness? Are there changes to our current life that would make me happier to stay in Arizona? Nothing comes to mind, but in order to be totally fair about this I have to at least entertain the exercise.

Even though the thought of staying here forever just chokes the spirit right out of me. I don't intend to use that as emotional blackmail (I know he's going to read this), it's just the very real and true way that I feel. I want to up and leave. Sell the house, pick a direction, and go. Figure the rest of it out when we get there. That simplistic of a plan is not only unrealistic, it's irresponsible.

But, it's also not impossible. Where there's a will there's a way, and I've always been a fan of having a simple life. Do I have to have a career making as much money as I do now? I'm not career-oriented, and if we downsize our life we won't need the salaries we currently require. Do I have to have a big house and fancy cars? No, just a little place that feels like home and something that runs. The things that are REALLY important to me - my connection with Calvin, my connection to the place that I live, the nourishment of my spirit - all of those things would be met and even improved upon if we just moved to somewhere that spoke to us, and de-complicated our lives.

But in order to make things uncomplicated, first they have to be more complicated. Beginning with the first and biggest complication - getting both of us on the same page about moving.

I have to be patient, I have to be fair, and I have to listen to all the things that Calvin is saying and not saying. But it's hard to bring myself to that sense of stillness, when my heart and mind are wild to get out of this place.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 12:29 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm having a fabulously bad day. For no particular reason. I woke up with my insides on fire, so I got to choose... indigestion, or panic attack? Hmm. I had some toast and took a couple of Tums, no effect. Work is THE SUCK today and things I usually manage with alacrity are just really combing my hair forward. I have been growling and growling and GROWLING at everything and everyone (though they can't hear me, because I'm growling at their e-mails and their mind-boggling stupid stupidness). I was so wound up at one point I REALLY needed to calm down/burn off some steam. I decided to work out and put in a new Yoga CD, then gave it up as a bad idea about five minutes into it because the poses were just pissing me off. So I got on the elliptical and pounded away to Disturbed, but didn't really feel better. Took a shower. Had a little cry, even. Ate some lunch. Went to the tanning salon, and then Trader Joe's. All things aimed at making myself feel better. But my insides are still clenched, I'm eating my way through a bucket of TJ's lowfat Chocolatey Cats Cookies, work continues to be THE SUCK, and I don't know when this mood is going to end.

Blarg.

Labels: headspace

Posted by Laura at 2:55 PM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin and I were pretty down (dooby doo) over the weekend. Nothing specific was bad, it's just that nothing specific was good either. Other than the old standby of being in (relatively) good health (Calvin's got some throat thing going on), having a nice home and food to eat and clothes to wear, and having each other. All very good things to be happy about.

But, not enough to keep us out of the doldrums. Perfectly normal, to have a nice life and yet feel down sometimes. And apparently I should NOT put the pressure on myself of expecting myself to be in a good mood all the time, just because I've gotten my depression and anxiety under control.

It seemed that all we wanted to do was sleep. We both took a long nap late Friday afternoon, slept in on Saturday, took a nap Saturday afternoon, slept in Sunday, AND took a nap Sunday afternoon.

Today? I am awake.

It concerns me when our down moods coincide like that. Neither of us can lift the other out of the blues, and so we sink and wallow and sleeeeeep. We need a positive life change in a BIG way. The more we think about it, the more we want to move away from AZ, and change careers, and do something that involves the both of us together. I think we're one of those lucky couples that would not kill each other if we had to work together.

Maine in May. And probably Oregon around September-ish. Anyone live there? Anyone been there? Anyone want to recommend some sights? We're taking a long weekend to check out the area and see if it's where we want to relocate.

In the meantime, we keep on with the keeping on. No more weekends like last weekend, though. I hope.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 2:37 PM | Permalink | Comments

After conversing extensively with Calvin this morning...

1. Continue to make progress paying off credit debt/auto loans.


2. Complete the mass undertaking of cleaning up our credit reports.


3. Participate in Innkeeper seminar in May.


4. Schedule a trip to Oregon (September?.)


5. Laura obtain a job in Oregon (transfer with AcronymCo? Early 2008?).


6. Sell the house in AZ (Summer 2008?).


7. Acquire an apartment in OR (Summer 2008?).


8. Calvin look for business ownership opportunities or employment... what do we want to be when we grow up?? (Fall 2008?)


9. Live in OR for a year, decide if roots should be established or if we want to move elsewhere... maybe Maine? Back to AZ? Timbuktu? Where on this Earth will we be happy??? (Utilize Sabbatical #2 to figure all this stuff out?). Stay financially, employally, and shelterally flexible until we KNOW where we want to be.


10. Live out the rest of our lives in peace, happiness, and prosperity. Travel extensively. Be happy where we're living and where we're working. Eat a lot of peaches.

Labels: headspace

Posted by Laura at 9:53 AM | Permalink | Comments

The other day I was trying to put together something and the directions were less than clear, and I couldn't figure it out. I felt an unfamiliar yet familiar feeling - my chest tightened, my movements jerked, my eyes smarted, and my breath hissed from between my teeth.

Good God, I was losing my temper.

My friends, that hasn't happened in YEARS. I mean, I got angry when provoked to it, I've even yelled and slammed things. But it has been so long since I've lost patience over an object that wouldn't cooperate with me, at first I didn't recognize the feeling for what it was.

I didn't know what to do, at first. I just wanted to... break it, or something. I actually had to step away, sit for a second, and try to remember what I used to do when I lost my temper. This time, I worked out HARD while listening to loud music, and that did the trick. Next time, hopefully, I'll be within range of my elliptical and my weight set. If not, well, walking away still does the trick.

It was so weird, though. Like the Effexor and Wellbutrin I've been on for the last several years have managed the emotions for me, without me having to do it for myself. I felt sad when I was supposed to, angry when I was supposed to, happy when I was supposed to, but it's like the emotion was dealt with for me, without me having to think about it. I observed and participated in the feelings, but didn't generate them myself and didn't deal with them myself.

Is this making any sense? ("No, but that's common in head injuries." "My shoes!" Heh. Spot the reference!)

Upon further examination and discussion with Calvin (who really is an excellent listener and advisor), I realized that I was back to having to manage my anxiety again, too. I'm sure I'm having normal levels of the type of anxiety that we all deal with all of our lives, but somehow it seems so much more profound, since I haven't really felt ANY anxiety for a couple of years. I mean, literally, none. Not even the helpful little signals that usually help people get things done... like, "Oh, gee, I better balance the checkbook before we have no money." The meds just made me go, "Eh, it's no big deal." To a LOT of things, I'm now realizing.

Calvin's going to read that paragraph and say, "So that's what her problem was!" Poor guy has been scratching his head at my lack of motivation for a while, now. Well, duh. We both should have realized what was going on.

So, I'm trying to remember how I dealt with anxiety. Action seems to be the answer. Physical energy needs to be expended when I lose my temper... but specific action needs to be taken when I'm anxious. Worrying about money? Balance the checkbook, examine the current status, make a plan. There, I feel better. Worrying about Calvin? Make a phone call, talk to him, search him out wherever he is and get a hug. There, I feel better. Afraid the end of the world is around the corner? Distract myself by reading a book, watching a movie, working on some project I've got going, cleaning the crap out of the house.

I know how to manage my own mind, my own emotions. I probably know better than most people, even. It seems that I just forgot how and actually have to remind myself to do it, now. I knew there would be physical side effects to going off the meds (dizziness, the shakes), and emotional side effects (kind of like PMS for a whole two months, then it was better and I was leveled out). Now I'm having to manage my own, oh, mental stability, if you will.

I used to have all of these mechanisms in place before, when I was a mess. Now that I'm no longer messy, I'm finding I need to still keep a bead on myself. Take stock every now and then and do some self-examination of my behavior and emotions. I can't ignore them anymore and get away with it, because the meds are gone and it's just me keeping an eye on things, now.

I feel kind of dumb, like I just made this great discovery that everybody on Earth already knew about. It's a good thing to look inward on a regular basis to make sure I'm not being an asshole.

Labels: headspace, journal

Posted by Laura at 11:20 AM | Permalink | Comments