Category: health

  • I’m Trying

    In 2011, I qualified for SSDI at first application, without an attorney.

    I started attempting to go back to work in 2018.

    There have been lots of attempts to return to work at this point, all reported to the SSA. 

    I desperately want to NOT need SSDI. It is NOT fun. It is not an aspiration. 

    They know I have the photography business; I have applied for all kinds of jobs that weren’t ideal fits in desperate attempts to find any sort of employment that would allow myself to work off SSDI. 

    I have lost count of how many reviews I have been through, including one in-depth but many more shorter ones. Each one, it is utterly depressing to receive the letter saying my disability is continuing.

    I found my original documentation not long ago. My situation was not expected to improve over time, back in 2011. 

    I am not a good judge as to whether it is improving on one day or another. 

    Ultimately, i do think I am more stable than I was in 2011. 

    And some days, like the day I wrote that post recently about getting the house in order, I do feel like I am getting my life in order.

    And yet, I would absolutely love nothing more than for some employer to take a chance on me. 

    After 15 years, it feels hopeless.

    And so, I have turned to volunteering as an outlet. I console myself that I have my wonderful church groups. I have mostly even given up on marketing the photography business because despite loving it, I am not a profitable photographer; I don’t have the business sense to make it work full-time and at 46 years old, I no longer have the stamina. I have spent embarrassingly amounts more on attempting to have a photography business; exponentially more than the small little amount I did ever make. I have one wedding on the calendar at this point, slightly less than a year from now, and nothing else on my calendar. 

    And, I do write, and I publish the posts I write here to a blog, but I have never quite felt like I was able to be profitable as a writer or blogger either, despite that being a long-term dream, too. I do not even know where to begin to actually become a profitable blogger or writer. I write because writing publicly is an extension of the journaling I have done since I was eight years old. 

    And so, there are still hard days, and desperate wishes that I could go back in time and somehow make long-relinquished careers work somehow despite knowing deep down that yes, there is a disability that is invisible to me but is probably wildly apparent to everyone else. 

    And I despise that I have become so reliant on the system, and I desperately do sort of wish self-esteem-wise that they would somehow review me and magically find me not needing SSDI somehow, that yes, that there has been substantial improvement in my condition. 

    And, I know that I am lucky, too, even if I don’t feel that way. 

    But, at this point, I just desperately wish for normalcy, and the ability to support myself, and I am soooo tired of feeling like money is an issue. Because in our house, it is always an issue. And that’s a tough thing to admit with the level of meticulous budgeting I do daily. That could be a whole other post. But it is the truth. 

    Fediverse reactions

  • Taming the Mess and the Schedule

    The inside of our home is now my sanctuary.

    In late April, I brought in someone to help me start cleaning up our house. To say the boys’ rooms were problematic was an understatement. It wasn’t their fault: We have five pets, and I hadn’t gotten in to help them declutter or clean much in probably three years. 

    Over the course of three visits, my helper and I tamed the mess entirely. 

    The first visit, we tackled Porter’s room. I’d already packed up a good bit of things that he’ll want to save, so a lot of our project was rearranging books and actual de-furring every item and surface. And, getting rid of a lot of trash, too. 

    But with her first visit, I gained momentum to keep going on my own. I cleaned up the mess in the dining room. I tackled boxes in our bedroom. I re-arranged our bedroom. 

    The second visit was Oliver’s room (which was not in as bad shape as the others because he has a cat that lives in his room so his room had to be cleaned at least a little), and also the bathrooms in the house. 

    The momentum continued after her visit; I kept up maintenance cleaning and managed to make the kitchen desk shelving (and desk and kitchen table themselves) presentable and useable. 

    The third visit was Liam’s room and all the floors in the house, and some dusting.

    And, all of a sudden…..I have a sanctuary baseline to work with to maintain.

    We have a four-bedroom, single-story house with all luxury vinyl plank and tile flooring throughout. And two and a half bathrooms, one of which has a tile and grout shower and a garden jetted tub. 

    It’s a big house. Big by my standards, anyway. 

    So, here’s my new summer schedule….. I worked it out and the actual work each day should not be more than an hour and a half on the heaviest work days. The schedule will change in the Fall both because the big boys will be off at their colleges and my schedule will change too:

    The Weekly Schedule

    Sunday: Church & Rest & Maybe Swimming

    Morning: Zero chores. Head to church and Costco.

    Afternoon (3:00 PM onwards): Make beds, pet care (which involves changing puppy pads and scooping cat litter), two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down all counters, boys to maybe swimming.

    Monday: Sheets & Swim (Oliver goes swimming on Monday afternoons)

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, four loads of laundry (sheets), unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down all counters.

    Weekly Task: Quick dusting of main areas.

    Floor Task: Steam mop primary bath and bedroom.

    Afternoon: Swimming with Oliver.

    Tuesday: Volunteer & Bathrooms

    Morning: Volunteer time

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down all counters.

    Weekly Task: Clean bathrooms.

    Weekly Task: Mow one yard segment (our grass is not in one section— there are 5 distinct sections of grass).

    Floor Task: Steam mop kitchen and laundry room and powder room.

    Wednesday: Volunteer & Bare Minimum

    Morning: Volunteer time

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down counters.

    Weekly Task: None. Rest and recover from the drive. 

    Thursday: Catch-All Floors

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down counters.

    Weekly Task: Swiffer/sweep all floors.

    Floor Task: Steam mop living room, dining room, and hallway.

    Friday: Projects & Swim

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down counters.

    Weekly Task: Project Day (this is where I will do things like clean out a closet or unpack a box in storage in the attic or under the house).

    Floor Task: Steam mop boys’ bedrooms.

    Afternoon: Jared takes youngest swimming.

    Evening: Date night. 

    Saturday: Yard & Flex

    Daytime Block: Make beds, pet care, two loads of laundry, unload/load dishwasher, scan for fur balls & five-minute pickup, swipe toilets, wipe down counters.

    Weekly Task: Mow one yard segment.

    And having the schedule worked out like that, I feel free to create the kind of daily rhythm I struggled to establish and maintain when the boys were younger. I’m not 100% sure that two loads of laundry per day will be necessary, even, but if I don’t keep it in the schedule I won’t stay on top of the laundry and then there will be a dozen loads to do in one day. 

    I’m finding that I loved raising my boys, and I love even more now that two are successfully out of high school and the third is solidly in middle school. Motherhood has not been easy or come naturally to me and I am realizing I have been mostly in survival mode for nearly twenty years. 

    Now that there is room to breathe and no toys underfoot, my psyche is relaxing quite a bit. And I love chatting and spending time with my big boys now that no one is little. I was not the baby-person in the household; most people know that person was solidly Jared. 

    I realize that house cleaning is not rocket science; I was learning to tend to my house as a young child. It’s not lack of knowledge or even lack of discipline; it’s that somewhere over the last twenty years of life and motherhood, I lost my bearings. 

    And I’m under no illusion: it will take work to maintain this momentum, and I deal with mental illness and there will be days I just cannot. 

    It’s strange though, to go from feeling hopeless about the state of our house in April to all of a sudden feeling like I could have guests over right now if I wanted to. 

    There would be more photos, but the beds are not made because it is sheets day. 

    I’ve long since struggled with waking in the morning, but with this schedule and a sense of hope and feeling of gratitude about my life, I managed to wake up at 5:00 this morning and have my quiet time before everyone else was up. That is the magic part of the day for me, and my days don’t feel complete when I oversleep out of depression or exhaustion.

    A win.

    Fediverse reactions

  • Maximalist on Jewelry, Not So Much on Beauty Products

    This post is expanded from a Facebook post.

    Jared and I went shopping at Ross last week, and Jared picked me out two outfits. This floral dress is one of his choices; I snapped the photo while we were on our way to Costco today.

    My husband is biased, but he commented more than once when we were in Costco about how lovely I looked today. I’m pretty sure he liked seeing me in a dress he picked out himself.

    And Jared’s comments reminded me that while I am 46, I am mostly rejecting typical beauty regimens for women in their 40s.

    Here’s my routine:

    I mostly exclusively use Trader Joe’s 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash for their intended purposes as my sole product in the shower.

    I found TIRTIR milk toner at Costco probably a year ago, and I use it on my face immediately after I get out of the shower. It came in a double-pack, and I only just opened the second bottle in the last probably three weeks.

    Then, I use L’Oreal Pro Longer 10-in-1 cream on my hair before I comb it out, and then I spray my hair all over with Kenra Sugar Spray, and then comb it out, still wet. I used to use the entire L’Oreal Pro Longer line but 1) it’s massively expensive and 2) it weighed my hair down too much.

    Next, I put probably 5-6 drops of Trader Joe’s jojoba oil on the palm of my hand and I rub it slightly into my hands and then rub it onto my neck and chest area. Then I used what’s left on my fingertips to coat the last two inches of my hair lightly in the jojoba oil film.

    These days, I am mostly letting my hair air dry unless I specifically want a blow-dried look and know I will want to leave my hair down.

    But most days these days, I am putting my hair up in a French pin. The Ulta ones I have posted about in other posts are my standard go-to’s right now.

    I don’t use any makeup at all, other than a Neutrogena lip oil and I do use that religiously.

    I am eleven months post-surgical-menopause, and I’ve noticed in the last two months that my hair is a different consistency now: it’s always been baby fine, but now it feels exceptionally delicate and its graying process is vastly faster now. I’m not upset by this in the least, but it’s made this routine all the more important. When my weight fluctuates I do notice aging in my neck, and my bone health must also be delicate because my scoliotic spine is definitely not stable right now.

    I’ve tried other products, and here I will admit something I rarely think about but is true: I haven’t actually used lotion on my hands or other real moisturizers in a decade, other than the jojoba oil and the TIRTIR toner. My hands always looked young, but they still pretty much look like they did in my 30s.

    I tried The Ordinary’s line probably two years ago and that didn’t last more than a couple of weeks. My skin is naturally, pre-menopause, very greasy, and all that stuff did was weigh my skin down and make me break out.

    I also gave up most makeup over a decade ago. For a couple of years recently I used a blush cream most days, but I gave that up probably eight months ago and honestly, I feel better and I think I look better because of it.

    My diet is also a factor in all this, but that is a post for another time.

    A note about my hand photo: yes, my jewelry is maximalist. No, in the grand scheme of things, it is not expensive. Jared kindly upgraded my original center diamond to a lab diamond that was less than $200 for our 20th, that we had set in a 4-prong setting I found on Etsy, and the eternity rings are moissanite and sterling, and the index finger ring was a $32 Kudzu find that I treasure because I was out shopping with a friend the afternoon I found it. I like shiny, not expensive. Jewelry on a budget is a whole other post I could do, but not today.

    **Edited to add: Not a sponsored post. I just really like the products I talk about here, and the places I really shop on a regular basis.

    **Also adding: I am low-key anxious about my hair turning silver and its much more delicate texture. The consolation I get is that I never have gotten caught up in the highlighting or dyeing treadmill, so the natural silver streaks are somewhat of a novelty that is happening gradually. There will never be a root line or a synthetic transition I have to battle.

    **Also also: Jared really likes shopping for me. I sent him to ThredUp tonight to look around at dresses and he’s sent me probably a dozen links to dresses. All of which were overpriced, but it is the thought that counts, right?

  • Twenty-One Years

    Photo by Virginia Hall. Re-edits by me.

    The view in this photograph doesn’t exist anymore.

    And I suppose anniversaries can be like that, too.

    This photo is standing close to the arch at Epworth-By-The-Sea at St. Simons Island. We are standing facing the arch, with Virginia facing those beautiful Live Oaks in the background.

    Standing in this very spot now, there are condos in the background now in 2026 where there was only woods in 2005.

    Not all progress is positive. Even if I am a curmudgeon about progress in general, especially when it mostly only benefits rich people.

    Today was not an easy day. I have been really sick (thus the COVID test picture and post that went viral on Facebook, from the other post– last check there were over 309,800 views on that post).

    Today was our 21st anniversary, and I always get extremely anxious on special days.

    And, Jared had taken the day off (and tomorrow) to be with me all day, and Jared got called into work for an emergency. Which I didn’t mind later in the moment.

    But as typical for special occasions, there were fights last night.

    I got scared because Aquaguard came to inspect our crawlspace encapsulation, and this kid that graduated with Porter, who probably hasn’t even been on the job very long at all, tried to tell just that there are problems with our foundation.

    And, there very well might be problems. But probably not to the extent that the kid tried to scare us into buying a solution into. We will hire an independent structural engineer company when we have funds to do so. There are no external signs that there are problems, and with our house being 32 years old, these “issues” may have gone unnoticed for years upon years.

    And that sent me into a spiral of feeling like crap about being unemployable, and I posted a not very wise Facebook post that I have since archived, after Jared and I had been fighting for hours, about 11 PM last night.

    And I woke Jared up after crying myself to sleep at about 2:30 AM, and Jared hadn’t been asleep very long himself at that point.

    So, we were not set up for a very good day together.

    The day was not a loss; we had a lovely time at Gallery Row for lunch.

    But there was more fighting later in the day.

    I have high expectations for special days like anniversaries, and I’m hoping to tone them down for future events so as to not cause problems like happened today.

    But now that the day is over, I can calm down, and we can go back to real life.

    It is Easter weekend, and I am still really not feeling well– I finally called a Telehealth urgent care on Tuesday and got an antibiotic for the secondary sinus infection I have developed. But I’m still far from 100%.

    We may not make it to Good Friday service at church like planned, and I’m hoping for a better next couple of days than the past couple of days.

    I suppose having had 21 anniversaries at this point, there was bound to be a hard day mixed in somewhere.

    Neither of us even made the joke that our marriage is old enough to drink today.

  • I Didn’t Take the Test Apart

    I am sick. Oliver, our youngest, tested positive for rhinovirus last Sunday, and I was the lucky recipient of his germs in the household. Nobody else was as fortunate.

    And I don’t know what it is about colds, but this is not the first time that I have completely lost my voice in the last year, even, when I was sick.

    And because I read that the new COVID variant, ‘Cicada,’ is spreading, after a day of feeling awful yesterday, I broke out one of the COVID tests we keep on hand. Because yes, we still occasionally test when one of us is sick.

    And as I stood there waiting for the test to develop, I second-guessed myself. Had I used enough of the test liquid before I inserted the swab? Had I done the twirly thing in my nose enough? I even found myself, once I was sure the time was passed enough, pushing some more of the liquid up from the bottom of the test.

    And with that, I was re-living the massively anxious pregnancy test years all over again, when I’d wonder if I’d used enough urine to make the test work right.

    So, I went to Facebook and posted this:

    “My potential childbearing years (only counting from marriage on) were 2005 to 2014. But only having a tubal in 2014 didn’t stop me from being paranoid clear through 2024 or so.

    And because the majority of those years were before digital pregnancy tests were not cost prohibitive….

    There is a very specific type of anxiety that arises whenever I have to do a COVID test.

    And I know very well to not even bother going to get Jared to ask him if he sees what I see, because my eyes and brain are VERY well trained to see a second line that is not there.

    Because I think I see one.

    I’ve held my phone flashlight up to it to try to see if that makes it appear.

    And it takes all my restraint not to take the test apart to see if I can see a line that way.

    Whoever came up with the mechanism for COVID tests was NOT sensitive to a couple of generations’ worth of us who did this countless times, trying to will a second line to appear.

    Just saying. 🤣

    And 2026 me can be mildly amused but early 2006 me would have been severely distraught that this is a way we have to routinely test for sickness.”

    I’ve spent a good portion of this week monitoring my analytics: a fruitless exercise, much like taking pregnancy tests apart. But I went to look 24 hours after the post, and apparently I’ve struck a chord with over 12,000 other women who’ve probably taken tests apart or begged their husbands to see a line that isn’t really there, too.

    I’m not used to writing things that people listen to. Or maybe I’m not used to using my voice in ways that are both constructive and vulnerable. I frequently write vulnerable things, but I am equally likely to yell in writing about the injustices than to find something to laugh at. And, now that the years are past, it is easier to see the humor in the very real anxiety I still feel about pregnancy and COVID tests.

    While I’m not really thinking I have COVID, I still wish I could will a second line to appear. I suppose that anxious urge is literally never going away, even though I am almost a year post-hysterectomy.

    And after 48 hours squeaking as I talk, I am ready for my voice to come back.