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looking right

Oh yay.  More weird dreaming last night.

In last night's dream I was living in some place which looked like a locker room and I was trying to get Josh (who was still little) to school and I couldn't find my own socks.  I was going back-and-forth trying to find some specific socks. I found some filthy socks and some brand-new socks that were held together by plastic ties which I didn't want to wear.  I wanted to find a pair socks that I had only worn once before. The once worn socks were the socks I needed. 

Finally ( I think I may have given up on the socks and gone sock less or had shoved them into my pocket to put on later)  I was on my way out with Josh. And by out the door I mean down a large stone staircase as if I lived in the Metropolitan Museum in my locker room home.  What should appear at the top of the stairs with a little girl who is absolutely beautiful. My dead mother! On some level I know who this girl is because yesterday I saw Jennifer Lopez in an interview and thought how beautiful she is. I was struck by the delicate beauty of this little girl (and JLo).  The little girl (baby JLo) was holding some kind of small charm that was made out of three circles in a triangle formation.  It was either a dark green or a purple color.  In my dream I knew that the charm the girl was stroking her face with had significance and in my dream I could not decipher the exact color of the charm, which seemed like an important thing that I should know. So, since living in a locker room isn't weird enough,  my dead mom calls my name while standing behind a stunning five year old Jennifer Lopez who is stroking her own cheek with a significant yet mysterious charm. 

Anyway my mom is guiding this little girl who I notice is frustratingly not dressed and ready for the day either by the shoulders.  They take two steps down the giant steps towards me while my mom has a laser glare straight to my eyes and she begins to admonish me. She says in the sternest way possible "Don't forget you have a girl too!" All I could think of was "Isn't my mom dead?"   "How is my dead mom telling me I have a daughter that I have no memory of having?  You can't forget about an entire baby."  And I was confused because in my dream.  I knew my mom is dead and I was positive that I would never have a baby girl and then manage to forget about her. 

Analyze that!

Then I woke up and realized that my neck is killing me too. Why have just pain in your broke ass?  Why not be unable to look to the left all day!   Bring it on universe!  I can handle it! Woo Hoo! 

broken for 9 days now

My broke ass still hurts so much that I twisted around to see the bruising this morning in the mirror.  Due to the bruising being on either side of my ass crack it isn't an easily visible area, so I was forced to (yes, I put a big chunk of change into the therapy jar) ask Josh if my eyes deceived me or not because I was sure the bruise was darker than when I first noticed it on day 5.  Josh (after cloroxing his eye balls ) said that not only did he believe the bruise was darker, but he thought it might be bigger too.

Awesome.  Just freaking awesome.  Not that I am counting but it is day 9.

There is exactly one position where I am not in pain and that is lying in bed on my side.  I sure can sleep a lot.

This morning I awoke at 5:30 in a dream about calling the chiropractor.  I was incredibly frustrated and ANGRY in my dream because the phone would neither show me my calendar for the day or call the new town barely effective chiropractor, who in my dream had the face of my new new shrink from way back when in step ford.  Anyways, in my dream I was so furious that I squeezed my phone and broke it which upset me even more since someone was offering to exchange my working phone for a newer model.  Then my eyes opened and it took me THREE HOURS to shake off the anger, which didn't dissipate until I was standing around the dog park chatting with all of my lovely dog friends.

It's always such a good feeling to be there in the park, among the good dog owning and loving people.  Then today some dude with a tiny pit bull came through and she started to attack sweet pea over a stick and the dude practically fell onto all of the dogs in a panic move trying to get his dog off of sweet pea.  But since my anger had just melted away moments before the psycho pit bull attack I was able to just shrug it off.  Also the dude whisked his vicious killer dog away, so sweet pea could stay with all of her friends.  Besides, in the world I am barely functioning in right now (this not sleeping well thing is doing me in!!) a close call with a mini pit bull barely registers as a blip on my radar.

Next week I am taking a workshop in solar plate printing.  I am pretty excited, as it is with the man who invented solar plates to begin with.  I know how to use solar plates, but they have been reformulated, and also I want any inside knowledge this guy has to share.  I have such high hopes.  In my world high hopes typically means disappointment, so I am trying to keep it in perspective.  The one area I am concerned with is that this guy might not be gearing his workshop towards photographers, so I am prepared to be pushy with the questions I need answered.

That being said I am going to swing by the art store this weekend and pick up some special papers for printing on.  Yay!! 

broken again

Once I adopted the attitude of "I don't care how much sheeeeeet the universe tosses my way I am going to sail through it all." I slipped on the stairs and broke my ass.  Tailbone to be more precise, but nevertheless, incredibly painful has taken on a whole new dimension in ass pain.

Because I am "clumsy" (as the pretty-much-useless-on-broken-ass-pain new town chiropractor put it when I admitted that I am the kind person who really needs to focus when she does every day things like walk down stairs) I have first hand knowledge of the healing process of a broken ass.  You see, dear readers I broke my ass one time before, but it was long ago (gasp!) before this blog existed, in a dark time before the internet was convenient, when I used to do stuff like call catalog 800 numbers and chat with real people while purchasing old lady (sorry, lands end) catalog clothes.  As a matter of fact, the last time I broke ass I was carrying baby Evan down the basement stairs in stepford, and that was when I decided that I was pushed by a ghost, probably of a dead person buried in the basement by the mafioso gangster we purchased the house from.   I avoided the basement after that.  I also avoided the basement because as a (previous to moving to stepford) life long apartment dweller basements and attics give me the heebie jeebies anyways.

This is what I remember from my first ass breaking

1. it takes forever to not be painful

2. there will no sit ups in my immediate 5 year future

3. even when I completely forget about the pain as if it is all gone, I will do something (like go down a playground slide because I am the goofy mom) and the pain will fire back up and bring me to tears.

also

4. Yoga and sweat pants are now my indefinite uniform because nothing can touch the area of my upper butt crack without causing THE PAIN.

And you know what?  Hahahaha universe, joke is on you because this broke ass is not going to hold me back!  I will just keep rolling forward cause that's what I do.

It's so different

A year ago when I imagined this fall I thought Matt would be living somewhere, employed, and happy. I thought Evan would be away at school, the husband would go to work every day (did I mention he is on disability now? ) and my only worry would be Josh, who is the world's easiest going kid. Also, I didn't even have another dog in my imagination. I imagined me heading down to the city once a week to wander art galleries and museums and meet with people who wanted to publish and otherwise celebrate my work, and life was going to finally revolve around me.

I was totally wrong and I'm really cranky about it. The only one who came through for me is Josh. I'll have to be less bitchy to him.

crystal ball

Since the life explosion otherwise known as Evan's almost 2 week freshman year of college happened I haven't been able to sleep much.  I'm so tired that I collapse into bed and fall into an instant coma like sleep but after 3-4 hours I am tossing and turning and my mind is racing again.  Last night, praying for a different outcome, I crawled my weary self into bed at 8:40, thinking I would watch television for a while.  I made it to 9.  I think.  Might not have made it to 9.  By 12:30 the unable to sleep- fitful bed thrashing part of the night was in full effect.  Once I looked at the alarm clock around 5:30 AM I just gave up and lay there waiting for 6, which is when I get out of bed to shower.  Around 5:55 I heard the distinct sound of someone falling down the stairs.  I leaped out of bed, ran to the stairs, and no one.  I did a body check, and everyone was still asleep in their beds.  So strange!  I tried to figure out what if anything could sound exactly like someone falling down the stairs.  Then 25 minutes later I was dressed, Josh was in the shower and I went downstairs to let sweet pea out.  But I didn't make it to the bottom on my feet.  Just over half way down one foot slipped and shot out in front of me causing me to go practically horizontal and slide down the stairs on the small of my back.  It seemed to take a long time and I had these thoughts on the way down:

THUMP THUMP - my butt muscles are clamped up and rock hard, that makes injury worse

THUMP THUMP - this sounds just like the fall I thought I heard this morning! 

THUMP THUMP -  where  the hell is the bottom 

THUMP  ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch

OH MY GAWD MY BACK IS KILLING ME

But more importantly, did I just predict the future?  Because if I have a new psychic skill set going on I want to embrace that and use it for the good of humanity and my own personal lottery number.  

 

Oct 19, 2015

Every day is a battle between my head and body. The head wants to go back to bed and stay in there indefinitely. The body wants to be moved.

dark place

Today is one of those days where I just want it to be over because even though I know I won't have any quality sleep tonight it's less awful than being awake.  I know I just have to ride out this wave of BAD SHIT IS HAPPENING AND WILL CONTINUE TO HAPPEN FOR A BIT LONGER but late at night I just can't muster the energy.  It's been two and half weeks since I last slept peacefully, and it is taking a toll on me.  This morning I managed to stay awake long enough  to get Josh to school and then thankful for the rain I came home and crawled back into bed for a few more hours.  Sleep was hard to come by but I fell asleep eventually.  

The husband is officially on disability now and for the second day in a row he didn't leave the house.  I have a lake friend whose husband suffers from chronic pain and possibly depression, so I can see from the outside what living with someone who doesn't resemble the young and healthy person you married is like.  Now I am going to toss living with that into the mix and to be honest with you, dear reader, I just do not have the reserve right now to deal with the husband's self inflicted self harm.

I've been going over and over the hundreds of photos I took while bailing Evan out of jail  and am working them into a sequence.  They're not happy photos, they are reflective of the depths of despair my head went to during that time.  They are dark, both literally and figuratively.  I am in a dark place.

I'm thinking about it like a really long water slide down a dark plastic tunnel.  I'm on my way down, I know the bottom is there.  I know I'll be fine eventually, but I have no idea how much longer the ride is going to be and I'm getting pretty scared about it.

the words

I can't really find the right word to describe the physical, emotional and ... mental number this whole frightening Evan ordeal has done on my head.  I still feel like I am drifting in a fish tank, separated from reality by a wall of glass and moving water.  I still shake from time to time when I stop myself from being distracted (my personal #1 coping strategy).  I thought I was over the feeling of being freezing cold until two nights ago when you couldn't convince me that it was not about 20 degrees outside.  (It wasn't)  The world is going by in super slow motion and everything I do (like walking the dog or grocery shopping) feels like the most meaningless task ever invented.  It's as if sounds have become difficult to hear too.  It's like life is a 78 rpm album playing out on 45.

On the plane

The wait is finally over and Evan and I are on our way back to new town.

During our week long strange holding pattern where we were waiting for permission to leave the state (yup, it's that big of a deal) we saw a lot of movies. We saw five movies together to be exact. Movies seemed like the perfect thing to. We didn't have to talk to each other or put on a brave face during the movies. During the movies we could just be in some other space and time for a couple of hours. Isn't that what movies are for?

The theater closest to the hotel had fabulous recliners with spacious tray tables. It took movie going to a whole new decadent level. I loved it. Then when someone sat next to you were so far apart you didn't have to elbow wrestle over the arm rest because you both had your own big cushy arm rests.

One time a couple came in and as the guy sat down next to me I got a major whiff of RAW onion. And not sweet onions either. This dude smelled like the onions that I don't use because it takes two days to wash the stink off my hands after cutting one. I turned to Evan and made the big eye of alarm look. He smelled it too. Then onion man unwrapped a paper towel in his big paw hands and buried his face in the towel making crunch crunch noises. I think he was munching a raw onion all through the previews. Who does that??

I couldn't have made this one up if I wanted to. But I will totally file this one away just incase I ever become a writer one day.

Too much nothingness

I don't like the way waiting feels. I guess it's the combination of waiting without any other day to day purpose. Why even get of bed? Why try?

I can see why people in this position would give up on themselves, on life. I am fighting every day to stay positive and to speak positively about the future to Evan.

When I open my eyes in the morning I feel nothing but disappointment knowing that there is nothing more to today than wasting time.

48 hours left.

Never knew I could want to be new town as much as I want to be in new town right now.