I lied.

spring flowers

I wanted to believe I was over it. I honestly want live beyond these feelings of waning sadness and despair.  The down happens less than the up; the up wins overall.  But when I sit down to write I lack fodder for those ‘up’ ideas. My head, heart, and body are still processing the loss.

So, I lied. I’m not over my miscarriage, and I doubt I will ever be “over it.”   There’s a part of my heart which will always hold onto the possibility.  But I am feeling better-ish.

When I look around I see pregnant women everywhere.  When we went back to the OB for my 2 week post-surgery follow up I swear the amount of expectant couples doubled since any visit prior.  There are families telling of their good news on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and I guiltily harbor feelings of jealousy towards them.  I try to be happy for my friends’ swollen bellies instead of feeling like they’re pointing and leering at me.  I installed a Chrome extension to replace pictures of infants with random cats and bacon (it makes me laugh every.time.).

Who doesn’t want their friends to be happy?  Who wouldn’t prefer to see a smile over a wallowing blog post about trying their best to be better? Who probably wants to slap me and tell me to just get over it?

I know I do.

I’m writing about lighter topics, they just need editing and the proper frame of mind.  Please don’t run away, dear readers!  Thank you for your patience and your support.

To spring and new beginnings!

Earth Laughs in Flowers

On Patience

English Bulldog floppy skin running

Only one full month  into 2013 and my word for the year already daunts me.

PATIENCE

As a Libra I strive for balance. I hate when things are unfair, out of order, or plain “off.”  As a child of the millennial generation I prefer instant gratification and automatic functioning everything.

Here in the beginning of February, I find myself stuck.

There are certain desires I have for my life and I know that “only good things come with time” or whatever that cliche says.  But the Right Now Vicki living in the present tires of waiting.  In horrible metaphor land: I want to lick the bowl before the cookies are done baking. I want to glimpse into the near-perfect life I imagine for myself and Mike.

Of course I am trying to help things along, but sometimes you can only do so much before you have to simply put it out to the universe/world/powers that be and let the chips fall where they may.

Or I just want to w(h)ine and for things to go my way.

Picture me with my hands on my hips and saying “harumph.”

And now to apologize for my rant, cute pictures of an English Bulldog puppy which have nothing to do with anything:

Adorable English Bulldog Puppy
English Bulldog Puppy crowndvicdroopy faced english bulldog puppy
English Bulldog Puppy with big dog

You get that big dog, little puppy!

I’ll continue going after bigger things with gusto, as well.

Words that Inspire

crownbutton

As a member of my school’s Safety and Security team I voluntarily raised my anxiety levels through the roof  in attending  the Active Shooter Training by the Metropolitan Police Department.  The MPD want to educate, inform, and help schools plan “when, not if” a lone wolf enters a school with a weapon.  (deep breaths)

I totally understand their motivation and having a plan is the first step. I want to be safe. I want my students safe.  Good intentions abound. (more deep breaths)

But aside from shock value, I hesitate to see the motivation behind watching the unedited Columbine shooting surveillance camera footage. (almost hyperventilating)

Or rather, I watched about a minute and then turned away, forced to listen to the screams, the shots, the horror. (emotionally removing myself from the situation at this point)

Later I bawled ugly tears to Mike.  I doubt those images or sounds will ever leave me.

The whole experience, the training and the video, changed me and I am still searching for a positive light.

*******

Friday night we attended an MLK & Rabbi AJ Heschel memorial Shabbat service at the historic 6th & I synagogue.  A baptist church along with this “non-denominational, non-membership, non-traditional” Jewish congregation came together to celebrate two lives who strove for change in the same direction.

A gospel choir sang praises while their church members swayed with feeling, shouting “Amen.”   The traditional Jewish Shabbat prayers were chanted solemnly. The Afro-Semitic klezmer and African folk music fusion band enhanced both forms of worship. The overall feeling of unity, despite faith and skin-color difference, filled the space.

The preacher read an excerpt from Dr. King’s sermon A Knock at Midnight:

“Centuries ago Jeremiah raised a question, ‘Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?’  He raised it because he saw the good people suffering so often and the evil people prospering. Centuries later our slave foreparents came along. And they too saw the injustices of life, and had nothing to look forward to morning after morning but the rawhide whip of the overseer, long rows of cotton in the sizzling heat. But they did an amazing thing. They looked back across the centuries and they took Jeremiah’s question mark and straightened it into an exclamation point. And they could sing, ‘There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole. There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.’ And there is another stanza that I like so well: ‘Sometimes I feel discouraged.’
And I don’t mind telling you this morning that sometimes I feel discouraged. I felt discouraged in Chicago. As I move through Mississippi and Georgia and Alabama, I feel discouraged. Living every day under the threat of death, I feel discouraged sometimes. Living every day under extensive criticisms, even from Negroes, I feel discouraged sometimes. Yes, sometimes I feel discouraged and feel my work’s in vain. But then the holy spirit revives my soul again. ‘There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole. There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.’”

 

If Dr. King felt discouraged, if he felt like he lived under the threat of death and did not hide behind his fears, then I too can step forward.

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

sunset over lake crowndvic

There is a balm in Gilead.

I can turn my question mark into an exclamation point.

A weak woman, I am not

I proclaim myself as strong-willed, confident, and independent.  I prefer grocery shopping (heck, most shopping) alone, my 2 hours at home before Mike walks through the door, and cleaning with only my “jams” to accompany me.  By myself I accomplish more than with distractions.  I enjoy spending time with friends and by my husband’s side, but still cherish “me time” alone.

As Mike sets off for a week and a half business trip, I reflect on the time he traveled for 5 days, in which I thought I might just die without him.

You can imagine my own surprise when my man leaves and I feel lonely and anxious!   I mean, what is this? Who am I? Where’s the Vicki who wants the couch all to herself to watch that new Amish series that makes Mike hem and haw?

When Mike is home, we are basically inseparable.  We watch our DVR’d TV shows together, run errands, and take the dog on walks.  There are times we separate and do our own things, mostly him watching football or playing a football video game (do we see a trend here?) and me tackling school work or crafting, or watching some trashy television.

Then he leaves.

And I’m pretty sure he takes a piece of me with him.

Because only that explanation suffices.

 

If you need me, you know where to find me.  Now accepting dinner reservations and doggy play-dates through the election!

A funny thing happened on the way to the zoo

An very interesting thing happened on Monday.

But before I tell you about that, you need to know that my dog has allergies.  We know this because her eyes get goopy, she paws at them, and she scratches them until the sides of her wee-puppy-dog eyes get sores and she bleeds.  Nothing* is sadder.  So our vet told us to put her on daily antihistamines, unless we want to spend $800 to find out exactly what makes her allergies flip out, then pay $100 a month for allergy shots.  Um, yeah right. I love you dog, but I also love a cheap fix.  So off we went to the land of plenty (aka Costco) and purchased a bottle full of generic Claratin.  And it worked (when the darn pooch doesn’t pick it out of her food and leave it in random places around our house).  About a year later we found her eyes goopy and sad again.  The vet told us that like humans, dogs’ bodies can get accustomed to a medicine (remember this for later), and we should switch it up. Costco again. Giant bottle full off something different.  Success.

Now, back to the other mammal with allergies writing this.

Recall back at the beginning of my migraine journey, my neurologist told me my headaches were caused by allergies?  My brain doesn’t know how to process so much darn tree sex (because let’s be honest, that’s what pollen really is).  My brain backfires and migraines, essentially.  But I wasn’t so sure so I went to the allergist who kinda-sorta-agreed but more importantly was horrified by the giant blob of mucous stuck in my nasal cavity.

Now that we’re all up to snuff.  heh, get it? snuff?

I have allergies. They may or may not be causing my migraines.

I realized I forgot to pop a claratin and called my friend Diana who was also heading to the zoo with me that day.  Diana has an uncanny ability to have everything anyone might ever need always on hand.  She also had antihistamines, but not my beloved claratin.  See, when the dog reached her max with the claratin, I started taking it as my go-to-daily antihistamine.  Ya know, the one I take every day?  Diana instead had Zyrtec.  I took it.

And then we walked around, outside, for 4 hours and I proceeded to have the best head day in weeks.

About 2 hours after getting home, I realized my head felt great all day and still felt great.  There was some pressure, but no pain.

I recycled through my day’s activities: cell phone store, zyrtec, mexican food, outside, awesome lions as the zoo, froyo, home.  The one difference? Zyrtec!  The one different antihistamine I tried all these weeks? Zyrtec!

Since, like dogs, our bodies can get used to a medicine taken over time, there might be truth to changing things up a bit.

Diana and I traded bottles of antihistamines.

It might be time to trade the dog’s, too.

And it’s been right there, under my nose, the whole time!

 

*there are many things worse

Disclosure: this is NOT an add for Zyrtec, although it might seem like it.  I found a product I really liked and it might be the key to unlocking my pain mystery!