I can't concentrate properly. I get frustrated when I'm trying to sew the zipper on Aural Girl's dog's hoodie but put the needle in the wrong side and under and over and wrong wrong wrong when my mind wanders. I was trying to finish the damn thing while watching Colbert Report, but it proved too much distraction.
I've always feared The Crazy. Is my wandering mind The Crazy? My short-term memory getting less and less reliable, attention taken by the shiniest and brightest of the moment and lost to what I was doing seconds before, phantom smells and ringing sounds and flashes in the corners of my peripheral vision. The doctors attribute all this to the migraines, but what if there's something more? Migraines as a symptom of Crazy?
or
Migraine sufferers are a baby-step further along the evolutionary scale and/or we have access to bits of another dimension but since we're still mostly the same old humans, peering into whatever's next tends to cause pain.
or
I just spent time with my family again and anything less than an instantly generated optimal solution is considered a screw-up. I now say things like, "Well, we're human," a lot, especially to and around my parents.
Parable:
Yesterday at brunch, my dad made people omelets to order. I can't eat cheese anymore, so I had mine with egg and tomato. As we were cleaning up, he seemed very concerned that I'd had enough to eat. I explained that I'd eaten lots of egg and more than my share of the lox that was set out for bagels, even though I couldn't eat bagels.
"I could have made you a lox omelet!" This dawned on him like he'd forgotten his prom date. I told him it was really no big deal as I'd eaten both ingredients and ended up quite satisfied, but my dad couldn't let it go because he hadn't optimized everything. So I told him a story.
"Today, I wanted to get a bunch of things done. I realized on my way here that, had I done them in a different order, I could have made it to more places and accomplished more things, but it was already too late to go back in time and change my morning. I am a person, not a robot, and it's pretty impressive that I could ever figure out the puzzle to see places to do more; that doesn't mean I'm always required to do it. I had a productive morning for doing as much as I did because that's exactly how much I could."
My dad liked and appreciated this very much.
I expect both of us still have traces in our hearts of the dwelling self-reproach for not being Perfect Saturday morning.
Showing posts with label migraine diet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label migraine diet. Show all posts
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Ooh, Baby
I think I can't eat gluten. Fuck. I was so sure that was going to be perfectly fine to add back in, but it seems to be the thing that has me feeling bad again, not the weather shift. Or it's the combination of the two, but at least gluten is something I can control.
Spent a long time at the bar tonight talking to one of my favorite people. For blog purposes, I will call him "Dijon." He's the one who adopted me into the crowd of regulars. He instantly recognized something in me that I'm recognizing more and more in him. It's like we're made out of the same flavor Jello, or our insides have the same wallpaper or something. There are many, many, many, many, many, many aspects to a human being and obviously we can't share or compliment every aspect of ourselves with every single friend. Still, it's a big warm fuzzy to find another person with a long list of sames.
Dijon's over-testosteroned skeezy drunk politician friend from childhood stopped by. I fucked with him a bit but nothing too overt. He asked me out. I said no. He asked if I was a lesbian. I said no, but I had enough on my platter as it was. When he left, he tickled me. What the fuck? Asshole gets rejected and then still tickles me. Possible Boy and I are afraid to get near eachother. I'm doing something wrong.
Six days until a baby stays in my condo. Must clean.
Spent a long time at the bar tonight talking to one of my favorite people. For blog purposes, I will call him "Dijon." He's the one who adopted me into the crowd of regulars. He instantly recognized something in me that I'm recognizing more and more in him. It's like we're made out of the same flavor Jello, or our insides have the same wallpaper or something. There are many, many, many, many, many, many aspects to a human being and obviously we can't share or compliment every aspect of ourselves with every single friend. Still, it's a big warm fuzzy to find another person with a long list of sames.
Dijon's over-testosteroned skeezy drunk politician friend from childhood stopped by. I fucked with him a bit but nothing too overt. He asked me out. I said no. He asked if I was a lesbian. I said no, but I had enough on my platter as it was. When he left, he tickled me. What the fuck? Asshole gets rejected and then still tickles me. Possible Boy and I are afraid to get near eachother. I'm doing something wrong.
Six days until a baby stays in my condo. Must clean.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Rain, Rain, A-OK
It's raining! I'm so glad it's raining! I spent all day today in my migrainy demi-coma and thought I had to re-renounce even the single glass of wine and/or products containing corn syrup I had at Other Girl's house last night, but it's raining! The exact kind of weather shift that usually knocks me out. Maybe I would have survived the day had I stuck to my strictest regiments, but add in such a big strong trigger as sloppy weather and it's much harder to say I can never eat or drink anything worthwhile ever again.
Clearer and clearer: NBF is a fucktard, this buying and selling antiques thing might actually work, Neighbor Guy is a child, I like making absolutist statements
Other Girl's dog looks just like my dog except he's tan instead of black and white and his ears bend. He also acts like my dog only minus the whole trying to kill people who enter "his" territory thing and he's less dog-aggressive. But his personality is very much like my dog's personality when we're alone, and they're the same size and shape. He even has the name my dog had when I got him from the crazy lady in Ohio. My dog is whining at me. He knows I'm writing about him and he's upset that he gets no final editorial approval.
When I sit down at my computer, I expect it to provide some sort of satisfaction. Then I'm annoyed when it doesn't. Same thing with food. There's something internet and food and television are supposed to fulfill. Except the only one that every really works is food, and that's often a shot in the dark. Maybe I'll eat frozen mango chunks and read.
Clearer and clearer: NBF is a fucktard, this buying and selling antiques thing might actually work, Neighbor Guy is a child, I like making absolutist statements
Other Girl's dog looks just like my dog except he's tan instead of black and white and his ears bend. He also acts like my dog only minus the whole trying to kill people who enter "his" territory thing and he's less dog-aggressive. But his personality is very much like my dog's personality when we're alone, and they're the same size and shape. He even has the name my dog had when I got him from the crazy lady in Ohio. My dog is whining at me. He knows I'm writing about him and he's upset that he gets no final editorial approval.
When I sit down at my computer, I expect it to provide some sort of satisfaction. Then I'm annoyed when it doesn't. Same thing with food. There's something internet and food and television are supposed to fulfill. Except the only one that every really works is food, and that's often a shot in the dark. Maybe I'll eat frozen mango chunks and read.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Raggedy Annabell
I ran myself ragged yesterday.
Biofeedback was much more successful. We played with my posture and the muscle under my back right pointy wing bone is much tenser than its left side counterpart. Finally got my jaw and temples relaxed, too.
Then I drove to a contemporary art gallery in the west loop to find out if my Miró lithograph was real or not. The gallery had a note on the door saying it was closed for the rest of August, but I called the phone number listed "in case you need to get a hold of anyone" and it turned out the owner was there and happy to help. He taught me all sorts of wonderful things about looking for dots in the printing and other useful tips as we ripped off the back of the frame and discovered my print is quite definitely out of a book. Considering I paid $10 for it, you can't get something framed that nicely for$10. Still, it would have been nice to have found a gazillion dollar treasure. I could use a jackpot. Get rich quick. The education is infinitely valuable. Next estate sale I'm buying myself a magnifying glass and a small flashlight.
I wasn't far from Jan's Antiques and I'm still missing a bobeche to complete my chandelier, so I figured I'd stop by and look again. I'm starting to give up on finding a single one to match and now looking for five of about the right size and style. I hadn't eaten all day so I got a salad from the coffee shop next door, then made my way to Jan's. Closed. Poop. Hungry and feeling my head, I wandered back towards my car to eat my salad when suddenly my steps felt funny. I looked down at my feet to see I'd just walked through fresh cement. Three sunken footprints nearly ruining a day's work. The street worker was very nice about it and managed to smooth things out again while I stood there apologizing over and over. There's a lot of galleries in that neighborhood, but all I could think was that the man fixing the cement was the real artist as my feet disappeared.
There's a Salvation Army I'd never been to on Union right in that area, too. So I went. Turns out it has an entire "antique boutique" and much of it is laid out more like an antiques/salvage shop than the standard Salvation Army digging free-for-all. Good if you're looking to buy a specific piece for less. Bad if you're a treasure hunter hoping to find something worth a gazillion dollars mixed in with rest of the junk.
There was another antiques auction last night, but I decided I haven't sold enough stuff to go buy any more. No more buying until I've unloaded some of these pieces. So I drove to Jazzy Junque, which sells lots of cookie jars and such and my mom once actually bought a bunch of salt and pepper shakers much like the ones currently sitting in my car. Jazzy Junque had a "We're moving!" sign in the window with their new address on Lincoln. Fine. I drove to Lincoln. Clearly, they haven't moved in yet.
At this point I was exhausted and a few blocks from Trader Joe's. Time to spend all the money I hadn't made on food I can eat and enjoy. $50 later, my house is now full of delicious things that follow my annoying dietary restrictions. Two vats of rice milk so I can have cereal all the time without worrying about how friggin' expensive rice milk is at Dominicks. Dried fruit so I will have fruit even after the fresh stuff is gone because it never lasts that long in my house. Mango in frozen, dried, and fresh form. Avocados for my Mexicanish food because only at Trader Joes can I get avocados for less than a dollar each. Dynamo juice, whatever the hell is in that, because it is tasty and has lots of calcium now that I can't have milk. More yummy chicken sausage things because they are very easy to make and are delicious and I'm craving protein a lot.
I dealt with more of the bills that have been evil black clouds over my soul. They're in the mailbox. All that's left:
I had a brilliant idea last night involving knitting, coffee shops, and coffee sleeves. I want to just come up with ideas and help start them but then have other people be the ones to really run the day-to-day stuff and I can go on to my next idea.
My therapist wants me to come in today at 2:30 instead of 3:30. There's no real reason I can't, but I don't want to. I want to fuck around my house as long as possible. It's gloomy outside and I'm fussy.
Last night I fell asleep before 7 and woke up around 9 with a bad migraine. I'd say around a 7 in pain. I'd really wanted to go out and be social, but there was no way I could be around noise. Instead I had a whole long text message chat with Possible Boy, who was at home dog sitting Other Girl's Jack Russel/chihuahua. It was really nice. I'm much better at texting than talking with Possible Boy. It gives me time to edit. I still want to write letters or notes on paper. You can't give a box of text messages to your grandchildren. There's nothing permanent. I like ephemera, dammit.
Cereal sounds good. Dog should go out. I should make at least one of the easy phone calls before heading to therapy. Blerg.
Biofeedback was much more successful. We played with my posture and the muscle under my back right pointy wing bone is much tenser than its left side counterpart. Finally got my jaw and temples relaxed, too.
Then I drove to a contemporary art gallery in the west loop to find out if my Miró lithograph was real or not. The gallery had a note on the door saying it was closed for the rest of August, but I called the phone number listed "in case you need to get a hold of anyone" and it turned out the owner was there and happy to help. He taught me all sorts of wonderful things about looking for dots in the printing and other useful tips as we ripped off the back of the frame and discovered my print is quite definitely out of a book. Considering I paid $10 for it, you can't get something framed that nicely for$10. Still, it would have been nice to have found a gazillion dollar treasure. I could use a jackpot. Get rich quick. The education is infinitely valuable. Next estate sale I'm buying myself a magnifying glass and a small flashlight.
I wasn't far from Jan's Antiques and I'm still missing a bobeche to complete my chandelier, so I figured I'd stop by and look again. I'm starting to give up on finding a single one to match and now looking for five of about the right size and style. I hadn't eaten all day so I got a salad from the coffee shop next door, then made my way to Jan's. Closed. Poop. Hungry and feeling my head, I wandered back towards my car to eat my salad when suddenly my steps felt funny. I looked down at my feet to see I'd just walked through fresh cement. Three sunken footprints nearly ruining a day's work. The street worker was very nice about it and managed to smooth things out again while I stood there apologizing over and over. There's a lot of galleries in that neighborhood, but all I could think was that the man fixing the cement was the real artist as my feet disappeared.
There's a Salvation Army I'd never been to on Union right in that area, too. So I went. Turns out it has an entire "antique boutique" and much of it is laid out more like an antiques/salvage shop than the standard Salvation Army digging free-for-all. Good if you're looking to buy a specific piece for less. Bad if you're a treasure hunter hoping to find something worth a gazillion dollars mixed in with rest of the junk.
There was another antiques auction last night, but I decided I haven't sold enough stuff to go buy any more. No more buying until I've unloaded some of these pieces. So I drove to Jazzy Junque, which sells lots of cookie jars and such and my mom once actually bought a bunch of salt and pepper shakers much like the ones currently sitting in my car. Jazzy Junque had a "We're moving!" sign in the window with their new address on Lincoln. Fine. I drove to Lincoln. Clearly, they haven't moved in yet.
At this point I was exhausted and a few blocks from Trader Joe's. Time to spend all the money I hadn't made on food I can eat and enjoy. $50 later, my house is now full of delicious things that follow my annoying dietary restrictions. Two vats of rice milk so I can have cereal all the time without worrying about how friggin' expensive rice milk is at Dominicks. Dried fruit so I will have fruit even after the fresh stuff is gone because it never lasts that long in my house. Mango in frozen, dried, and fresh form. Avocados for my Mexicanish food because only at Trader Joes can I get avocados for less than a dollar each. Dynamo juice, whatever the hell is in that, because it is tasty and has lots of calcium now that I can't have milk. More yummy chicken sausage things because they are very easy to make and are delicious and I'm craving protein a lot.
I dealt with more of the bills that have been evil black clouds over my soul. They're in the mailbox. All that's left:
- a call to my neurologist's hospital to figure out how much I actually owe because they bill my parents and me for the same things and then send me refunds for payments made on some things while saying I owe money on others and are the most confusing billing people ever
- yelling at RCN for charging me a $75 early contract termination fee when I never terminated my contract (glad I caught it...I'm on automatic billing for them...WTF?)
- finishing the census survey I'm required to fill out BY LAW
- straightening crap out with People's Gas. Again.
I had a brilliant idea last night involving knitting, coffee shops, and coffee sleeves. I want to just come up with ideas and help start them but then have other people be the ones to really run the day-to-day stuff and I can go on to my next idea.
My therapist wants me to come in today at 2:30 instead of 3:30. There's no real reason I can't, but I don't want to. I want to fuck around my house as long as possible. It's gloomy outside and I'm fussy.
Last night I fell asleep before 7 and woke up around 9 with a bad migraine. I'd say around a 7 in pain. I'd really wanted to go out and be social, but there was no way I could be around noise. Instead I had a whole long text message chat with Possible Boy, who was at home dog sitting Other Girl's Jack Russel/chihuahua. It was really nice. I'm much better at texting than talking with Possible Boy. It gives me time to edit. I still want to write letters or notes on paper. You can't give a box of text messages to your grandchildren. There's nothing permanent. I like ephemera, dammit.
Cereal sounds good. Dog should go out. I should make at least one of the easy phone calls before heading to therapy. Blerg.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Thoughts I'm still capable of having
Really really really like Possible Boy. No clue how to proceed. No clue no clue no clue. Talked a bunch at the bar. He's even sharper and thinkier than I realized. So what the hell happens next? I enjoy this part, but I don't want to screw up and ruin whatever is supposed to come next. I've never done things in the right order or in any sort of healthy way. I don't think he has either. Are there directions somewhere? An instructional video, perhaps? This part of squishy boy-girl (or boy-boy or girl-girl or microwave-toaster) stuff is much less troublesome in movies and books because you generally know what's going to happen. Smash head into things.
Went to a few antique shops today. Sold nothing. Estate sale tomorrow morning at what appears to be a pack-rat house. I want to get there early. Then I have therapy in the afternoon. Maybe my therapist can teach me how to make Possible Boy Actual Boy. Today felt like a day of wandering. Many of my days feel like that. At least I cleaned my house some. That felt productive. Got my lazy butt on the treadmill by 8:30 AM. Need to keep that up. Remind my heart that I'm 27 and not dead yet. Biofeedback taught me that the way I naturally hold my jaw keeps a huge amount of tension in my temples. Could be a major factor in my migraines. Now I'm stretching out my jaw like a weirdo every time I think about it.
I made myself the best lunch today. Chicken breast covered in chile ancho, cumin, and a bit of cayenne then grilled on the George Foreman and served with tomatoes and avocados on corn tortillas. Extremely tasty. I'm begining to accept rice milk as a suitable liquid for cereal. It's better than getting migraines and not bad as a food substance. I still don't drink what's left in the bowl once the cereal is gone.
My memory is getting worse. I have trouble remembering what floor my biofeedback is on (nine) even though I go every week, and I ran into an Etsy friend yesterday and couldn't remember her name.
Time to be asleep.
Went to a few antique shops today. Sold nothing. Estate sale tomorrow morning at what appears to be a pack-rat house. I want to get there early. Then I have therapy in the afternoon. Maybe my therapist can teach me how to make Possible Boy Actual Boy. Today felt like a day of wandering. Many of my days feel like that. At least I cleaned my house some. That felt productive. Got my lazy butt on the treadmill by 8:30 AM. Need to keep that up. Remind my heart that I'm 27 and not dead yet. Biofeedback taught me that the way I naturally hold my jaw keeps a huge amount of tension in my temples. Could be a major factor in my migraines. Now I'm stretching out my jaw like a weirdo every time I think about it.
I made myself the best lunch today. Chicken breast covered in chile ancho, cumin, and a bit of cayenne then grilled on the George Foreman and served with tomatoes and avocados on corn tortillas. Extremely tasty. I'm begining to accept rice milk as a suitable liquid for cereal. It's better than getting migraines and not bad as a food substance. I still don't drink what's left in the bowl once the cereal is gone.
My memory is getting worse. I have trouble remembering what floor my biofeedback is on (nine) even though I go every week, and I ran into an Etsy friend yesterday and couldn't remember her name.
Time to be asleep.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Store(age)
I've been feeling so much better. I think it's the stupid diet. Taking out milk was the real kicker. Today I'm eating tons of eggs to see if it's milk AND eggs. Eggs eggs eggs (in addition to other food, too) over the next few days and we'll see what happens.
I'm already legitimately exhausted from a morning of two estate sales (one sucked, one was an $11.50 goldmine) and one antique store (they didn't want to buy what I had, but I know what that particular store sells now).
Then I went to the grocery store and demonstrated to myself that I'm not all hunky-dory regular person.
I signed up for my own Fresh Values Card. I've been using my mother's forever and keep forgetting to sign myself up so I can reap the occasional benefits. Today, I had time and remembered. But as I filled out the form, my hands were shaking. They do that, sometimes worse than others. They have since high school. As I wrote my name, the shaking was bad enough that you could barely read the first letters and it wasn't the fault of my crummy to begin with handwriting. I don't think I've ever been that shaky before, or at least not when I've done something noticeable.
I contemplated the 20 cent difference between regular and organic limes (organic won) and the $3 difference between regular and organic eggs (regular) and went up and down almost every aisle so I wouldn't forget anything. I didn't trust myself to remember or make decisions without going through the logic very consciously. Pondering the expense of my favorite gluten-free but over-priced cereals, a man I knew I recognized said "Hello!"
I drew a total blank. Did I know him from high school? Familiar, but no clue.
He was the groom at the wedding when I was the makeshift photographer. He had to remind me. I stared at this man through a camera for countless hours, and then again on my computer as I cropped and adjusted picture after picture. Then we met up again to upload everything onto their USB drive. None of that stuck in my head. It's all part of the blurry squish of the past two years. He was totally nice and friendly about it and we talked for a few minutes before I was back to judging milk substitutes.
But AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH! I know it's not my fault. It just frustrates the hell out of me when I go into my brain to find something and it's not where it's supposed to be. Memories used to go in and stay in. Now, it's more like trying to lodge pencils in a classroom ceiling or juggling one more item than you comfortably can handle while wearing baseball gloves. It's that much more frustrating because you can do some of it or a version of it, but under current circumstances, there will be misses. I get fussy when I miss. Fuss fuss fuss.
I want to go crash so maybe I'll feel good tonight and go out. Possible Boy makes me smile. I don't know what's going on, but he's swell and I'll keep being dopey on his behalf for the time being.
I'm already legitimately exhausted from a morning of two estate sales (one sucked, one was an $11.50 goldmine) and one antique store (they didn't want to buy what I had, but I know what that particular store sells now).
Then I went to the grocery store and demonstrated to myself that I'm not all hunky-dory regular person.
I signed up for my own Fresh Values Card. I've been using my mother's forever and keep forgetting to sign myself up so I can reap the occasional benefits. Today, I had time and remembered. But as I filled out the form, my hands were shaking. They do that, sometimes worse than others. They have since high school. As I wrote my name, the shaking was bad enough that you could barely read the first letters and it wasn't the fault of my crummy to begin with handwriting. I don't think I've ever been that shaky before, or at least not when I've done something noticeable.
I contemplated the 20 cent difference between regular and organic limes (organic won) and the $3 difference between regular and organic eggs (regular) and went up and down almost every aisle so I wouldn't forget anything. I didn't trust myself to remember or make decisions without going through the logic very consciously. Pondering the expense of my favorite gluten-free but over-priced cereals, a man I knew I recognized said "Hello!"
I drew a total blank. Did I know him from high school? Familiar, but no clue.
He was the groom at the wedding when I was the makeshift photographer. He had to remind me. I stared at this man through a camera for countless hours, and then again on my computer as I cropped and adjusted picture after picture. Then we met up again to upload everything onto their USB drive. None of that stuck in my head. It's all part of the blurry squish of the past two years. He was totally nice and friendly about it and we talked for a few minutes before I was back to judging milk substitutes.
But AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH! I know it's not my fault. It just frustrates the hell out of me when I go into my brain to find something and it's not where it's supposed to be. Memories used to go in and stay in. Now, it's more like trying to lodge pencils in a classroom ceiling or juggling one more item than you comfortably can handle while wearing baseball gloves. It's that much more frustrating because you can do some of it or a version of it, but under current circumstances, there will be misses. I get fussy when I miss. Fuss fuss fuss.
I want to go crash so maybe I'll feel good tonight and go out. Possible Boy makes me smile. I don't know what's going on, but he's swell and I'll keep being dopey on his behalf for the time being.
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Water Signs
I just had a very content wonderful day.
I woke up and felt ok, even after going to the theater with my family and then Indian food with my siblings late last night. I decided I'd work out in my building's exercise room, so I put on shorts, my sports bra, and a t-shirt and took Freud for a walk. We went past Neighbor Guy's new apartment and I figured I should stop by and say hi and see if he wanted to come with me later when I went on my antique boutique selling mission.
Thirteen hours later, Neighbor Guy and I parted ways while Possible Boy stuck around for another hour.
Possible Boy just happened to drop by Neighbor Guy's apartment soon after I arrived. My dog was totally well behaved at Neighbor Guy's place and only got growly when Neighbor Guy's dog tried to sniff him. The three humans sat on NG's floor and talked for hours. Then we decided we should go swimming at the beach, so Possible Boy ran home to get his trunks while NG and I walked to my condo and cooked. NG made some pasta thing that I couldn't eat because it was pasta, but I had the noodles in my cupboard and it got them fed. I fried up the shmancy no-nitrate uncured bacon my mom bought me at Whole Foods and made my brown sugar, cinnamon and butter goop for rice cakes and with apple sauce on the side I was a well-fed camper, too.
By the time we went to the beach, thunder and lightning and lifeguards chased everybody away. It poured for half of the two block walk back to my condo and we swam in the rain instead.
I keep saying that Neighbor Guy is like Dori the fish in Finding Nemo, so Neighbor Guy decided we had to watch Finding Nemo. Halfway through the movie, the rain stopped so we headed back to the beach and had a lovely time in the freezing cold water. Possible Boy didn't want to go all the way under because it was too cold. It took me forever, edging deeper and deeper, before I dunked myself completely. Lake Michigan. Ice cold. Very very cold. But fun. Neighbor Guy went right in. No second thought, just dove. Possible Boy wouldn't go much past his waist. Then as we were getting ready to go and Possible Boy was fully clothed, he went to put his shoes back on in the water so his feet wouldn't be all sandy. He laughed as he struggled to keep his balance on the first shoe, then promptly fell backwards completely in the water, shirt and towel and everything. He was amused and NG and I were cracking up and the whole thing was perfect and fabulous.
A huge fog cloud rolled in over everything as we left. It was beautiful. Neighbor Guy told a little girl to look out for the monsters that come out of the fog.
Back at my house we filled the jacuzzi tub and moved Finding Nemo to my laptop so we could watch it from the tub. Wet clothes and towels all went into the dryer, except Possible Boy and my bathing suits as we plunked down sideways in the jacuzzi. I'm 4'11", so I can comfortably fit my whole body across just the width of the tub. Possible Boy is 5'11", so his legs hung over the side. Neighbor Guy wasn't invited to be in the tub because he'd put everything in the dryer and was wandering around in a towel and naked Neighbor Guy would have been awkward in this situation.
After Nemo I went to put on dry clothes and Neighbor Guy had Les Miserables started back in the living room before I had a chance to clasp my bra. Possible Boy went home because he is not the youngest of a gazillion (I think the real number is like 17) children and values time spent alone. Neighbor Guy, not so much. But I wasn't going to kick him out because I know it's good for me now and again and I'd already shot the day for productivity. By the time the French Revolution began, Possible Boy texted me that he was back out and at the bar if we felt like coming out. I didn't feel like watching the movie in the first place and spent most of it eating and then playing with makeup and dolling myself up in my cherry dress and being ridiculous. The movie ended and we went to the bar. I drank water. Other Girl was there. Possible Boy still clearly likes Other Girl, but according to Neighbor Guy, that's over and didn't work out, whatever that means and assuming he has any idea what he's talking about. But Other Girl left and then Neighbor Guy left and I got to talk to Possible Boy alone for a bit until we decided to call it a night and went our separate ways and now I'm in a bit of a mental and emotional frenzy.
Possible Boy is fabulous human being. I definitely like him as a person. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about him beyond that. Sometimes I get tingly. Sometimes it's totally non-tingly. Most of the time I'm stupid around him and fighting my head and the crazy and reality and shoulds and shouldn'ts and not knowing what I feel because I'm so stuck in what makes sense and doesn't and I don't know what I want or really want or something. Maybe all the drugs I'm on have my feelings muted so I can't hear my heart to know what to follow. Or maybe I'm freezing up at the signs of a real possibility. Whatever the reason, we're totally socially awkward with one another and act like sixth graders when anything even remotely boy-girl related comes up: our forcefields go up, we stare at the floor, we act like two people who don't know what sex is for the sake of innocence and terror. How do I get over that? I need a sign that he's really truly interested. I need a sense that I'm really truly interested. And then I need to stop being a chickenshit but not scare him either. How do I do that? Hellllllllllllllp!
I woke up and felt ok, even after going to the theater with my family and then Indian food with my siblings late last night. I decided I'd work out in my building's exercise room, so I put on shorts, my sports bra, and a t-shirt and took Freud for a walk. We went past Neighbor Guy's new apartment and I figured I should stop by and say hi and see if he wanted to come with me later when I went on my antique boutique selling mission.
Thirteen hours later, Neighbor Guy and I parted ways while Possible Boy stuck around for another hour.
Possible Boy just happened to drop by Neighbor Guy's apartment soon after I arrived. My dog was totally well behaved at Neighbor Guy's place and only got growly when Neighbor Guy's dog tried to sniff him. The three humans sat on NG's floor and talked for hours. Then we decided we should go swimming at the beach, so Possible Boy ran home to get his trunks while NG and I walked to my condo and cooked. NG made some pasta thing that I couldn't eat because it was pasta, but I had the noodles in my cupboard and it got them fed. I fried up the shmancy no-nitrate uncured bacon my mom bought me at Whole Foods and made my brown sugar, cinnamon and butter goop for rice cakes and with apple sauce on the side I was a well-fed camper, too.
By the time we went to the beach, thunder and lightning and lifeguards chased everybody away. It poured for half of the two block walk back to my condo and we swam in the rain instead.
I keep saying that Neighbor Guy is like Dori the fish in Finding Nemo, so Neighbor Guy decided we had to watch Finding Nemo. Halfway through the movie, the rain stopped so we headed back to the beach and had a lovely time in the freezing cold water. Possible Boy didn't want to go all the way under because it was too cold. It took me forever, edging deeper and deeper, before I dunked myself completely. Lake Michigan. Ice cold. Very very cold. But fun. Neighbor Guy went right in. No second thought, just dove. Possible Boy wouldn't go much past his waist. Then as we were getting ready to go and Possible Boy was fully clothed, he went to put his shoes back on in the water so his feet wouldn't be all sandy. He laughed as he struggled to keep his balance on the first shoe, then promptly fell backwards completely in the water, shirt and towel and everything. He was amused and NG and I were cracking up and the whole thing was perfect and fabulous.
A huge fog cloud rolled in over everything as we left. It was beautiful. Neighbor Guy told a little girl to look out for the monsters that come out of the fog.
Back at my house we filled the jacuzzi tub and moved Finding Nemo to my laptop so we could watch it from the tub. Wet clothes and towels all went into the dryer, except Possible Boy and my bathing suits as we plunked down sideways in the jacuzzi. I'm 4'11", so I can comfortably fit my whole body across just the width of the tub. Possible Boy is 5'11", so his legs hung over the side. Neighbor Guy wasn't invited to be in the tub because he'd put everything in the dryer and was wandering around in a towel and naked Neighbor Guy would have been awkward in this situation.
After Nemo I went to put on dry clothes and Neighbor Guy had Les Miserables started back in the living room before I had a chance to clasp my bra. Possible Boy went home because he is not the youngest of a gazillion (I think the real number is like 17) children and values time spent alone. Neighbor Guy, not so much. But I wasn't going to kick him out because I know it's good for me now and again and I'd already shot the day for productivity. By the time the French Revolution began, Possible Boy texted me that he was back out and at the bar if we felt like coming out. I didn't feel like watching the movie in the first place and spent most of it eating and then playing with makeup and dolling myself up in my cherry dress and being ridiculous. The movie ended and we went to the bar. I drank water. Other Girl was there. Possible Boy still clearly likes Other Girl, but according to Neighbor Guy, that's over and didn't work out, whatever that means and assuming he has any idea what he's talking about. But Other Girl left and then Neighbor Guy left and I got to talk to Possible Boy alone for a bit until we decided to call it a night and went our separate ways and now I'm in a bit of a mental and emotional frenzy.
Possible Boy is fabulous human being. I definitely like him as a person. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about him beyond that. Sometimes I get tingly. Sometimes it's totally non-tingly. Most of the time I'm stupid around him and fighting my head and the crazy and reality and shoulds and shouldn'ts and not knowing what I feel because I'm so stuck in what makes sense and doesn't and I don't know what I want or really want or something. Maybe all the drugs I'm on have my feelings muted so I can't hear my heart to know what to follow. Or maybe I'm freezing up at the signs of a real possibility. Whatever the reason, we're totally socially awkward with one another and act like sixth graders when anything even remotely boy-girl related comes up: our forcefields go up, we stare at the floor, we act like two people who don't know what sex is for the sake of innocence and terror. How do I get over that? I need a sign that he's really truly interested. I need a sense that I'm really truly interested. And then I need to stop being a chickenshit but not scare him either. How do I do that? Hellllllllllllllp!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Feeling really weak and weird and light-headed. I ate a bunch of rice cakes and applesauce this morning, lay back down, still felt weird. Then I had a chicken breast covered in Emeril's Essence and thrown on the George Forman Grill (lunch, brought to you by male celebrity endorsement). Still felt weird. Lay down again. Now I'm working through a strawberry-peach-blueberry-banana smoothie from across the street, hoping I can get enough something in myself that I won't keep feeling like shaky crap.
Friend OK, Dietary Habits Notsomuch
They found my friend and she is OK. She was hit by a car, knocked unconscious, and taken to the ICU. Mild concussion seems to be the worst of it but I guess the police didn't manage to notify the right people because her family and boyfriend all freaked out.
I don't know what to eat anymore to keep myself fed throughout the day. Dry rice puffs, fritos, avocado, leftover Indian food that somehow got spicier to an almost unbearable level, rice cakes, pea pods, orange juice, apple juice. I should figure it out, but I think I'm way under on all kinds of calories and nutrients, which probably has me feeling worse than any migraine-triggering individual food did to start with.
Just plugged in everything I ate today into the Lean Cuisine Meal Planner thingy. Verdict? About 1300 calories, almost 500% my required vitamin C, good on dietary fiber, and it's downhill from there. 40% of my protein, 28% iron, 23% vitamin A, and a sorry 17% of my calcium. I seem to have managed a zero cholesterol day, for what that's worth. Very low fat and sodium, too. Just low food and nutrients as well. Tomorrow I'm eating something dead. Maybe I should defrost a chicken breast tonight. My basil plant is getting too big for its container, so whatever dead thing I eat needs to be slathered in basil.
I don't know what to eat anymore to keep myself fed throughout the day. Dry rice puffs, fritos, avocado, leftover Indian food that somehow got spicier to an almost unbearable level, rice cakes, pea pods, orange juice, apple juice. I should figure it out, but I think I'm way under on all kinds of calories and nutrients, which probably has me feeling worse than any migraine-triggering individual food did to start with.
Just plugged in everything I ate today into the Lean Cuisine Meal Planner thingy. Verdict? About 1300 calories, almost 500% my required vitamin C, good on dietary fiber, and it's downhill from there. 40% of my protein, 28% iron, 23% vitamin A, and a sorry 17% of my calcium. I seem to have managed a zero cholesterol day, for what that's worth. Very low fat and sodium, too. Just low food and nutrients as well. Tomorrow I'm eating something dead. Maybe I should defrost a chicken breast tonight. My basil plant is getting too big for its container, so whatever dead thing I eat needs to be slathered in basil.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Better Days
I felt a lot better all weekend. All day starting Friday and even through Monday. Clearer and I could concentrate again and the pain was manageable, especially once I added in some combination of Norflex, Vistaril, and my Toradol shot. Last night, I even started looking through the Craigslist help wanted ads.
Today I'm still not terrible, so I am hoping this is not just a quick break in the misery but a continued positive direction. I'm trying very hard to avoid dissappointment or negative feelings that today's setback (super light sensitive, strangely sore muscles, and Pain that isn't calming down when I give it the extra non-injected drugs) is a trend. I'm still feeling emotionally better. I'm still able to write things, it seems. Pretty good indication the Neurontin was what had me quite so stoned, not the "abortive" meds.
I slept all day.
I can't decide now if I should give myself the Toradol to keep myself in the lesser-pain mode, or not do the Toradol so I don't overuse it and render it useless like I did to the DHE.
But I kind of want to go out...
Because there's a possible Boy...
Possible Boy is Neighbor Guy's best friend, even though Neighbor Guy doesn't call him his best friend. Neighbor Guy "had" a huge crush on Possible Boy. For a long time. Possible Boy knows this. They've talked about it. Possible Boy is straight; he likes girls. Neighbor Guy is not a girl. So Neighbor Guy decides I should meet Possible Boy. "Oh, you would really like him."
Neighbor Guy drags me to a barbecue. Possible Boy also comes to barbecue.
Turns out Possible Boy is sharp and snarky with depth, and he's cute.
Neighbor Guy claimed he had his crush in check and was "totally over" Possible Boy, but we all know that's bullshit. Still, so long as Neighbor Guy is a guy, Possible Boy can't see him as anything more than a friend.
I'm used to being in Neighbor Guy's corner of the love triangle. It's the self-defeatist's spot and I empathize completely. I don't really know what to do or how to handle the good corner. For that matter, I don't know how to handle possible boys. How do I not automatically turn him into a just friend? Or chase him away completely? This is not one of my better games. HELP!
Totally unrelated: In my dreams, I keep accidentally eating things that are big no-nos on my migraine diet. These dreams have the same feel as the ones where I do something that accidentally hurts a child or children, but now I have a new theme. It's me doing things I shouldn't without realizing it. Since they are dreams, they skip the parts where I'm making any decisions or thinking about it and go right to where I'm eating the pizza or letting go of the bar before the kid jumps up to grab it.
Obvious interpretation: I feel like I make all these mistakes in life that are my fault without having any control over them.
Obvious easier-said-than-done solution: Take control over the things I can control and let the rest go.
Reality: I'm still a long way from actualizing the AA serenity prayer.
Today I'm still not terrible, so I am hoping this is not just a quick break in the misery but a continued positive direction. I'm trying very hard to avoid dissappointment or negative feelings that today's setback (super light sensitive, strangely sore muscles, and Pain that isn't calming down when I give it the extra non-injected drugs) is a trend. I'm still feeling emotionally better. I'm still able to write things, it seems. Pretty good indication the Neurontin was what had me quite so stoned, not the "abortive" meds.
I slept all day.
I can't decide now if I should give myself the Toradol to keep myself in the lesser-pain mode, or not do the Toradol so I don't overuse it and render it useless like I did to the DHE.
But I kind of want to go out...
Because there's a possible Boy...
Possible Boy is Neighbor Guy's best friend, even though Neighbor Guy doesn't call him his best friend. Neighbor Guy "had" a huge crush on Possible Boy. For a long time. Possible Boy knows this. They've talked about it. Possible Boy is straight; he likes girls. Neighbor Guy is not a girl. So Neighbor Guy decides I should meet Possible Boy. "Oh, you would really like him."
Neighbor Guy drags me to a barbecue. Possible Boy also comes to barbecue.
Turns out Possible Boy is sharp and snarky with depth, and he's cute.
Neighbor Guy claimed he had his crush in check and was "totally over" Possible Boy, but we all know that's bullshit. Still, so long as Neighbor Guy is a guy, Possible Boy can't see him as anything more than a friend.
NG: Possible Boy was telling me to call you the other day to invite you out but I told him you were probably having your headaches and you'd call me if you wanted to do something.Neighbor Guy kept saying he'd had a horrible week but nothing about it sounded horrible. Now I knew why. He'd been fielding off-hand, pseudo-casual remarks from both me and Possible Guy about one another, having to endure the Glimmer of Interest in and about the current Love of his Life. To make matters worse, he introduced us.
Me: Blah blah blah not important to story
NG: Well can I just give him your number? I hate being the middle-man.
Me: Of course! Blah blah blah
NG: Ok good because I don't want to be an intermediary blah blah blah etc.
I'm used to being in Neighbor Guy's corner of the love triangle. It's the self-defeatist's spot and I empathize completely. I don't really know what to do or how to handle the good corner. For that matter, I don't know how to handle possible boys. How do I not automatically turn him into a just friend? Or chase him away completely? This is not one of my better games. HELP!
Totally unrelated: In my dreams, I keep accidentally eating things that are big no-nos on my migraine diet. These dreams have the same feel as the ones where I do something that accidentally hurts a child or children, but now I have a new theme. It's me doing things I shouldn't without realizing it. Since they are dreams, they skip the parts where I'm making any decisions or thinking about it and go right to where I'm eating the pizza or letting go of the bar before the kid jumps up to grab it.
Obvious interpretation: I feel like I make all these mistakes in life that are my fault without having any control over them.
Obvious easier-said-than-done solution: Take control over the things I can control and let the rest go.
Reality: I'm still a long way from actualizing the AA serenity prayer.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sex, Drugs, and Trying to Get Off the Island
I think my psychiatrist is convinced NBF and I were doin' it. There was this very strange bit of conversation today about me being "sexually active" (matters because migraine doc is making me go to the gyno for hormone meds it instead of just writing me a prescription, largely as incentive to make me go to the gyno...blech).
I have new friends in my neighborhood. They're Neighbor Guy's fault. Most of them are gay males. I'm also now connected to a surprising number of ex-navy men. They all hang out at the bar that's around the corner from my condo. Very convenient. I'm currently on the zero booze migraine diet, but mixes of juices make me feel fancy. I'm writing like I do this all the time when I've actually been once. Well, I went with NBF and I think I even dragged my sister before, since it's right here, but I never actually talked to people I didn't already know before.
I'm watching obscene amounts of LOST. You can see all five seasons online, and now that I'm physically incapable of concentrating on anything that requires more than a minute of my input, movies/tv shows and walking the dog are about the only ways I get any stimulation. I'm really excited I could write as much as I've written tonight. I'm spacing out pretty badly between sentences and clauses and having a hard time getting this last paragraph down, so I think I'm spent, but it felt good to get this much out. I started a paper journal again hoping it would be easier to keep up now that I'm a space cadet, but I write so much slower by hand that I get less out and once I start spacing out I'm a goner. Ok, I'm a goner now. Stoned writing again, except without the pot. We cut my Neurontin in half starting today so maybe I'll be better soon. As of now, who needs marijuana when your daily breakfast comes in pill form and your own saliva requires a side effects warning label?
Ugh. Brain fried. Fried fried fried.
Dr. Shrink: Are you sexually active?Then I started rambling about occasional circumstances presenting themselves and sometimes lead to intercourse blah blah blah, but I think he took my weird bumbling as me trying to cover that NBF and I were actually lovers instead of me just being a bumbly person not sure how to explain things to my attractive and young enough you'd think he'd be less suspicious of a 27-year-old having occasional casual sex psychiatrist.
me: Yes. Well, I don't know how active, but yes.
Dr: What do you mean by that?
me: I do sometimes have sex but it's not exactly a frequent or regular thing
Dr: When was the last time you ad intercourse?
me: Duh...um...what day is it? A month ago? No, more than that...a month and a half? Something like that.
Dr: [sounding like he'd gotten me in a trap] Was this your friend that moved away?
me: Oh god no. We were never like that.
I have new friends in my neighborhood. They're Neighbor Guy's fault. Most of them are gay males. I'm also now connected to a surprising number of ex-navy men. They all hang out at the bar that's around the corner from my condo. Very convenient. I'm currently on the zero booze migraine diet, but mixes of juices make me feel fancy. I'm writing like I do this all the time when I've actually been once. Well, I went with NBF and I think I even dragged my sister before, since it's right here, but I never actually talked to people I didn't already know before.
I'm watching obscene amounts of LOST. You can see all five seasons online, and now that I'm physically incapable of concentrating on anything that requires more than a minute of my input, movies/tv shows and walking the dog are about the only ways I get any stimulation. I'm really excited I could write as much as I've written tonight. I'm spacing out pretty badly between sentences and clauses and having a hard time getting this last paragraph down, so I think I'm spent, but it felt good to get this much out. I started a paper journal again hoping it would be easier to keep up now that I'm a space cadet, but I write so much slower by hand that I get less out and once I start spacing out I'm a goner. Ok, I'm a goner now. Stoned writing again, except without the pot. We cut my Neurontin in half starting today so maybe I'll be better soon. As of now, who needs marijuana when your daily breakfast comes in pill form and your own saliva requires a side effects warning label?
Ugh. Brain fried. Fried fried fried.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Remembered and Lost
I think I remember a time when I didn't have a migraine. Nixon was president and we were worried about the Y2K virus infecting all the cows in Asia. I thought some day I'd take over the world by being a journalist. I went to a concert and didn't require 23 different chemical compounds to make it past the gate. I went to school or work without a second thought.
I just added cinnamon and sugar to my plain yogurt. It's delicious. I tend to think anything is delicious when it involves cinnamon. Even more than chocolate, though I think of it less often.
How much LOST can I watch in one day?
I just added cinnamon and sugar to my plain yogurt. It's delicious. I tend to think anything is delicious when it involves cinnamon. Even more than chocolate, though I think of it less often.
How much LOST can I watch in one day?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
My Grain is Rice or Corn
I'll get back to The Columbian later. Can't really concentrate or think about that story right now, so you get a different one.
Let me be frank with you all for a moment. Maybe Frank is having an easier time than Annabell.
The migraine stuff has been rough. I'm drugged out of my mind to the point that it takes all my concentration to accomplish simple tasks. Writing has never been difficult for me and yet this blog post is requiring all kinds of extra initiative and push and time. I have bills to pay and phone calls to make, too, and they very well may take me hours instead of minutes.
My latest major anti-migraine push has been a diet change. Since there are a bazillion little additives and weird things in our foods, any number of which could be triggering or causing the migraines, I'm taking them all out. Gluten, milk, and eggs are always big question marks for migrainey people, too. I did a version of the no gluten diet six years ago, but now that things are so bad I'm being extremely strict just so I can either find a culprit or officially rule food out as a cause.
So, the only foods I am eating are:
I've been eating a lot of rice cereal and Indian food with rice cakes. Yesterday I made it to the grocery store and got yogurt, but only plain yogurt passed my dietary test, so I took my buy one get one free organic strawberries, chopped some up in the blender, and mixed them in with said plain yogurt. I considered adding sugar but thought no! I own real vanilla! So I added in a splash of vanilla. And since I was in the spice cabinet I saw my cinnamon, and I love cinnamon, so I mixed that in, too. Let's just say Dannon can suck it.
Why do I already need to lay down again? Is new diet worse for me? Is rice actually my kryptonite? Will dog ever stop whining even though I'm not letting him lick my empty yogurt bowl?
Tune in next time.
Let me be frank with you all for a moment. Maybe Frank is having an easier time than Annabell.
The migraine stuff has been rough. I'm drugged out of my mind to the point that it takes all my concentration to accomplish simple tasks. Writing has never been difficult for me and yet this blog post is requiring all kinds of extra initiative and push and time. I have bills to pay and phone calls to make, too, and they very well may take me hours instead of minutes.
My latest major anti-migraine push has been a diet change. Since there are a bazillion little additives and weird things in our foods, any number of which could be triggering or causing the migraines, I'm taking them all out. Gluten, milk, and eggs are always big question marks for migrainey people, too. I did a version of the no gluten diet six years ago, but now that things are so bad I'm being extremely strict just so I can either find a culprit or officially rule food out as a cause.
So, the only foods I am eating are:
- fruits
- vegetables
- potatoes
- corn
- rice
- milk
- meat
- sugar in its nice pure sugar form (no corn syrup or weird fake sugar products or derivatives)
- spices that can be found in a spice cabinet (MSG is not a spice)
- butter
- olive and vegetable oil (NO soybean or peanut oil, more strictly than usual)
- beans (meaning garbanzos since they're the ones I like)
I've been eating a lot of rice cereal and Indian food with rice cakes. Yesterday I made it to the grocery store and got yogurt, but only plain yogurt passed my dietary test, so I took my buy one get one free organic strawberries, chopped some up in the blender, and mixed them in with said plain yogurt. I considered adding sugar but thought no! I own real vanilla! So I added in a splash of vanilla. And since I was in the spice cabinet I saw my cinnamon, and I love cinnamon, so I mixed that in, too. Let's just say Dannon can suck it.
Why do I already need to lay down again? Is new diet worse for me? Is rice actually my kryptonite? Will dog ever stop whining even though I'm not letting him lick my empty yogurt bowl?
Tune in next time.
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