Category: health

  • going team bare windows

    Drastic times call for drastic measures.

    We bought our current house in 2021.

    This is the only house we have purchased that I actually picked out.

    And…..I have struggled mightily with my mental health in this house.

    It doesn’t get a great deal of light. Well, I mean, the ginormous living room actually does get great light, but it was outfitted with equally imposing dark royal blue blackout curtains. Here they are, this morning:

    And yes….the blue curtains in the living room perfectly matched the shade of the blue valances (and wallpaper) in the dining room.

    At least the people who designed our 1994 house, which this is all original to, had stellar taste. Everything still looks fabulous 30 years later.

    But….. I struggle mightily with my mental health, which is likely known to you all at this point by now. And when we moved in 2021, we moved from a house that I moderately despised because of its stairs.

    But what I loved about that Holmes Drive house was its light. That house had fantabulous light, in both the kitchen and the main living room.

    So, this happened today:

    The photos are not the greatest representation of how much better the light is in the house– I took them this morning just after taking the curtains down and it was overcast. And I am sort of rebelling against my camera gear at the moment, so all I did was phone photos. I might take better photos once the job is all done.

    The dining room photo above is after the work in there too– there were paper shades over the windows in there prior to about an hour ago.

    If I had my way, we would be team bare windows in the entire house. I am not much worried about privacy.

    But, we are taking down the paper shades throughout the house, in favor of brand new sheers. They arrive tomorrow, so tomorrow’s project will for sure be taking down the eight other shades in the windows of the house.

    The paper shades were my solution to the extremely off-white, very thin metal blinds that came with the house. I hated them and they came down as soon as possible.

    And they have served their purpose, and we certainly got what little money we put into them out of them.

    But many of them in the boys’ rooms (and the ones in the dining room, actually), had been torn by the cats, and Oliver’s in particular are in very bad shape because Mow, his cat’s scratching post is right beside one window and she has gotten it all furry and bent out of shape.

    So, I will not be sorry to see the shades go in favor of sheers.

    And honestly, I’d worry more about security, but our alarm systems, both furry and actual, are fantastic.

    I just desperately need natural light.

    The good news is, taking down the curtains in the living room has made me not feel like the room needs to be painted quite so much. I do love a basic white wall.,

    And we are not taking down the hardware fast, as I am keenly aware that the blackout curtain do actually do quite a lot of insulation in the winter.

    But…that is when I need the light the most.

    Regardless: I feel better about my house, and I feel better about my life. Which makes me more invested in both.

  • not a soul-sucking day

    Just outside Newberg, Iowa last February

    Picture of vastness nothing Iowa cornfields that I took last February because it’s pretty akin to a desert, and I am kind of in that sort of mindset right now. It was a cold day.

    I’m not exactly depressed but not exactly vibrant and bubbly like I prefer to be.

    Nancy is better, and she seems to be eternally grateful to be alive. For once, she is very loving and interactive, which we are taking to mean that she understands that we did quite save her life (or at least her tongue) by getting her to the vet the other night. No more black drool or black crusty stuff around her mouth, and she’s eating and drinking as she should.

    We are not holding our collective breath that Nancy’s change in disposition is at all permanent.

    We put Nancy in Porter’s room, and moved Bess in there too, along with all their litter boxes, and have been feeding them canned food since that is what Nancy needs for at least the next few days. They both seem to appreciate the treat, and probably the respite from chaos of the dogs.

    And, I have gotten beyond my frozen action on cleaning the house: Today I cleaned the entirety of our guest bathroom in our laundry room. I cleaned the floors, baseboards, toilet, corners of the room, and sink and toilet. And dusted off the top of the intercom even though we never use it, and cleaned the top of the trash can even.

    The whole endeavor took me about half an hour.

    If I can spend this kind of dedicated time on even a section of a room in the house each day, then the house will be relatively clean in a few weeks.

    That is encouraging.

    I have also started budgeting more in earnest. Or rather: I am making a concerted effort to not spend money we don’t have right now.

    While Jared and I went on a date to Gallery Row tonight, we are not likely to do that on a regular basis.

    I did try a little photography today. This is a cameo ring I made for myself; I have several of these cameo rings I made. I had planned to post them on Etsy but honestly, I am not feeling it a great deal as far as Etsy stores go right now. I missed focus on the girl in the cameo and had to clean it up with Topaz Photo AI. This was with the GFX camera and the 37.5mm Super Cinelux lens– it’s. a great macro lens.

    I do not know how old this bird is; Sarah Belle gave it to me when I was in third grade but she said then that she had had it since she was a little girl, and she was born in 1920.

    And tonight, I am going to bed with hope for the future. I am almost ready to seek out more regular volunteer opportunities. I am ready to reinvest myself in our home, which I did quite fall in love with in 2021 when we found it.

    And today…..today was a good day.

  • something to say about tylenol and autism

    I have something to say about the stupidity that is going rampant in this country……

    Above is the ultrasound photo of my oldest when I was 16 weeks pregnant with him, in 2006.

    And that now young man is 19 years old. And he is autistic.

    And he is brilliant. And he loves his family. And he loves his dog Trixie. And he loves video games.

    And he happens to be in the honors college at his college. And his grades are stellar. He is majoring in philosophy, and because philosophy is so easy for him he is adding a second major, statistics, likely at the end of the semester.

    He has his driver’s license. He has a strong circle of good guy friends who are very good to him.

    He loves to play D&D. And, I think he likes school.

    And, you know what, he doesn’t just love to look people in the eye. He will do so with me, but I’m pretty sure that’s because at a fairly young age I told him he should do so.

    And his life really does pretty much revolve around video games- the next one coming out, the reviews, all of that. He’s pretty singularly focused.

    And he’s got slight tactile issues that I won’t go into here.

    And you know what else? I’m pretty unconcerned with why Porter is the way he is.

    You know why?

    Because he is literally one of the best men that I have ever met in my entire life. It utterly astounds me that I got so lucky as to be his mom.

    And you know what else? I did not take Tylenol during my pregnancy with him. Except during literally the hour that he was born, because due to my spinal fusion I could not have an epidural.

    But labor was fast, and I’m 99% sure that Tylenol never reached my bloodstream, and certainly not his.

    The whole premise behind the Tylenol and autism thing is that it is yet another way to shame women, to make them question their choices about their bodies.

    Tylenol did not cause my son’s autism. It offends me to even worry about why he has autism.

    But for sure, nothing I did in my pregnancy caused him to be the way he is.

    And even if it had, I’m damn proud to be his mom and if I went back and told that 26-year old version of myself that this beautiful baby she was staring at the ultrasound picture of, that that baby has autism, I’m damn sure she would be through the roof proud when I told her what else that baby is capable of. And that she gets to be the one he calls Mom.

  • weird dreams

    Last night was the night of weird dreams. I had two pretty wild ones.

    Notable because I rarely actually remember my dreams.

    In the first, there were commercial planes crashing all across the country, and the problem was particularly bad in my hometown of Carrollton, GA. One crashed in the backyard of the house next door, actually, though, it was the backyard of the house I grew up in, and the backyard was bigger than it is in reality. And I lived in the house I grew up in with Jared and the boys. But Porter and Liam were maybe 6 and 4.

    And in my dream, we were trying to get to my parents’ house, because for some reason that was deemed safer than anywhere else.

    And it must be that in my psyche Porter and Liam are forever going to be 6 and 4 years old, because they were those ages in my other dream from last night, too. Except Oliver was also in this dream, maybe 2-3 years old, as he will probably be forever to my subconscious.

    In the second dream, it was maybe 2015 and we had sold our Fairfield house in 2010 and moved. And the people who had bought it were selling it again, and I wanted it.

    That part is based in reality– our old Fairfield house really is for sale right now. But we sold in 2016, not 2010. And I do kind of want it back, but not enough to pay what they are asking without serious concessions, both for flooring and roof.

    But anyway, we had bought the house back and the people who had bought it had put a bunch of stuff we’d left back in the house, and restored the original paint colors to the colors they were in 2007 when we bought the house.

    But there was also a newborn baby, that we’d apparently left when we sold the house.

    The kicker is, the newborn baby was ours, but we’d been gone 5 years and it was alive and well, but frozen in time as a newborn baby– it hadn’t developed at all in the 5 years we had been gone.

    And I was mortified that I’d left a child behind– a child that, in my dream, I didn’ t remember having at all, such that there were actually 4 children.

    Now, 2010 was a pivotal year for me– that was the year that I left my last real big girl job, and it was the year that I had a breakdown that saw me realizing that I’d been sexually assaulted by multiple people I thought loved me, and it was also the year I started my first blog.

    And I will say, the takeaway is that I feel out of control in my life– both personally and professionally, as well with the general state of the crazy world we live in. That much I pretty much already didn’t need my subconscious to tell me. And I’ve pretty much felt out of control since 2010 or so, actually.

    Apparently my subconscious is telling me something has to give.

    I’m actually doing my best to do things about this fact, this out-of-control feeling.

    I let my psych nurse practitioner up my Latuda dose at my last appointment.

    I’m trying to more consistently keep my sleep schedule up. Bedtime ideally is 8:30 PM and while I like to wake up about 5 or so, I have let myself sleep until after 6 AM both of the last two mornings.

    I’m trying to better tend to my marriage. That one– that one has been hard of late. Jared and I are in a rut. And that’s all I care to say.

    I’m trying to watch what I eat, and manage better the timing of meals and snacks.

    I’m watching what entertainment I put into my brain– I’ve started listening more to my Moongate brainwave app during the day, and less to my random, mostly sad, Apple Music playlists.

    And, despite taking the bait on Facebook this morning with the whole Trump/ Tylenol debate (which is utter “horseshit,” to use the word of one of my exes turned friends who is genuinely a good guy)….

    I am actually thinking about leaving Facebook. Or at least not scrolling, only posting.

    I am back to using my therapy app.

    I am going to try to do more writing….more private journaling, more writing here, more writing in Scrivener since I re-purchased it for the purposes of writing a fictionalized memoir.

    And, I’m going to try to have more of a routine at home, just in general, for myself when nobody else is here.

    And, I’m mostly going to ignore my dreams. They take me on wild rides.

    It was a great night of sleep though. I did wake up rested.

  • nothing is in focus right now

    I took this photo with the X-S20. Apparently I am not so good as the selfie culture at making the camera work in focus with the full articulating selfie screen.

    Yeah. Depressed.

    Feeling my age, my ribs are on the move in a twisty way that isn’t fun feeling. Bored, tired of Carrollton.

    Jared tries. He took me out to the Marina again tonight, after taking me on our weekly outing for Burger King ice cream cones.

    Fun fact, at least in Carrollton, GA: You can get two ice cream cones for $2.12. That’s the main eating out we do during the week.

    And all that was well and good. Until I started in on how I hate Carrollton, how I want Jared to find another job so we can move to Atlanta.

    The same old same old.

    And I don’t know why, when I feel rejected, I go on this whole self-implosion thing.

    Something happened last week that made me change some plans in the next couple of weeks. And as it happens, I am going to see my aunt and uncle instead of doing the thing that I was going to do, and I will likely have a far superior time seeing them and being loved on and all that than I would have had doing the other thing, which was probably riskier than I really want to admit it likely was, to begin with.

    And I’m still mad about last December. Mostly because I’m mad at myself for thinking that inviting drama back into my life was a good idea at all.

    I’ve spent the last nine months pretty darn unhappy because of it. And had an arguably necessary-anyway hysterectomy because I got all freaked out about cancer risks because of that encounter.

    I guess in that respect, I should be grateful for last December. It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me to worry about cancer risks if I hadn’t had that encounter last December.

    And mostly I go around mad all the time because it feels, to me, like just about everybody in my life has some sort of purpose, has their shit together, and I’m just sitting at home.

    And I guess it’s accurate to say that some of the people I have in mind do actually have their shit together.

    But none of them are married to Jared Price. I’m the only one who got to do that.

    And probably not many of them are told on a daily basis the things he tells only me.

    It’s about now in the depression cycle that I realize that it’s been about a week since I’ve done a gratitude list.

    The truth is, not much about my life has turned out the way I thought it would, or honestly, the way that I wanted it to.

    And I mostly walk around mad, angry at the world, and despondent because of it.

    And I think back to that 18 year old and I would tell her to ditch all the preconceived notions about how life should go. That it’s all about to change, like, tomorrow.

    But probably, she’d already known that for a good couple of years or so.

    Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll go volunteer in the city with “my ladies,” as Jared calls them.

    And then I’ll go see my aunt and uncle for the weekend, and probably have some yummy Costco mac and cheese, which I haven’t actually had since the last time I saw them, in February.

    And, I do actually realized how privileged it is that I was born into the family that I was born into, and that we can afford to feed ourselves despite the fact that I do not work.

    It does not negate the fact that I feel somehow that I am not living up to my potential, and there have been missed opportunities. And squandered opportunities. And lost time. and lost relationships.

    But tomorrow, I can try again.