I feel like a fraud. I remember when writers of my favorite blogs stopped writing or their posts became so infrequent that I would forget, in between, where they were in their lives. I thought to myself, that will never happen with me. Writing and blogging and posting and communing is SO important to me. And, then, exactly that happened. My posts are few and far between, stolen moments as the busyness of life takes over.
With my husband out of town, it is even harder to find the time, but, yet, here I am because I NEED to be here. I need a respite from the noise, just to be and think and commune with myself and anyone who may still read anything that I post.
I have had a run of health/physical issues of late. It started with an outbreak of shingles (something I was first diagnosed with in the 1990s) likely due to combined stressors. Then, I ran full force into the corner of our coffee table causing a golf ball sized lump and now purple/green/yellow bruise above my knee. I then had a horrible case of indigestion/heartburn, something I never suffer from since having my gall bladder removed, that resulted in not being able to eat for 48 hrs. I gave G’s high chair (yes, this may seem like a non-sequiter but hang on) to a friend who, in turn, gave me a bottle of tangerine body lotion. An ingredient in the lotion caused me to break out in itchy welts all over my body, but most severely in the webbing of my fingers, the insides of my wrists, the area where my bra band sits, and around my low belly where my underwear waistband is. I have a known allergy to latex that causes something similar so there must have been a derivative or component in the ingredients that caused the reaction. That took 48 hrs to resolve. And, finally, my thyroid is completely out of whack (and has been since I gave birth to G 21 months ago). My TSH is as low as it can be and still have a reading (which means that I am severely HYPERthyroid and susceptible to abnormal heart rhythms). And, while this state would normally cause me to lose weight easily, it has actually resulted in me gaining 10# in 30 days despite my best efforts. It has been SO demoralizing and frustrating and worrisome. (I am in touch with my doctors on everything and we have made adjustments to my medication, but any adjustment requires six weeks to take affect so my next labs will be in six weeks. Who knows what my weight will do in that time).
I phone interviewed two realtors in Portland and will be meeting with both during our visit. I’ve perused 100s of listings on-line and have a fairly good idea of the market, neighborhoods, etc. Of course, I won’t know what neighborhood feels right for our family until our visit. Did I mention that we decided to go earlier rather than later?
Which brings me to that. We fly out on Saturday. We.fly.out. In anticipation of having to fly, I did several (six or seven) sessions of EMDR therapy. I am going to try to squeeze one more in before we go, but that is TBD. I am trying to think I feel mostly OK with this pending flight, but I am completely unsure if I really do. And, while I will still take ativan to manage my anxiety, I have NO idea how I am going to fare. Given that we are 3 days out, that I’m not chronically in tears or on the verge of throwing up, is its own improvement. We haven’t started packing, yet, which will add another layer, but I am trying to keep my emotions in check. The truth is, I have no confidence that I will actually make the flight since historically I wouldn’t. The rubber is about to meet the road. I want to feel confident, with absolute surety, that it’s going to be OK, that I am stronger than my fear, but that feels unreliable at best.
Just typing the above makes me feel like crying, but I am not crying, so, there’s that.
In the meantime, speech therapy with G continues. At 21+ mos he still has no words (not one) but he babbles and engages constantly and understands complex commands, knows his colors and shapes and animals and body parts and some sign language. On this front, we’ll just keep at it.
Oh, and my mom’s birthday was on Saturday. I was already contending with if/how to see them (my mom was forcing my hand in a way quintessentially her), so we decided to just pop over on Friday evening on our way out to dinner (that way, our time would be limited with two hungry kids in tow). I stopped and picked up some hand-crafted ice cream and we made our way. In addition to visiting with them at their house (that I’ve haven’t been to in 3+ yrs), I somehow decided it would be go a good idea to invite them along with us for dinner. This is all deserving of its own post, or maybe it’s not. It was uneventful even if painful in an “I can’t believe I am doing this” kind of way. It was a kind thing for me to do and I am trying to focus on that instead of how being around her makes me feel.
Mostly, I am thrilled at the prospect of moving. We’ve had record heat, gosh, since forever, with temps this last weekend in the triple digits and still into the high 90s. Ironically, it should rain the entire time we’re in Portland. YAY!