old school indeed. heard this on a local “classic” radio station and knew i’d have to post it.
random
i’m not a fan of medication, it’s the control freak in me but it really does suck to be allergic to anesthesia and the subsequent anti-nausea meds that only make matters worse. of course, as I’ve gotten older, my inner ear issues and motion sickness has only gotten more sensitive if you will. I can’t even get on a plane without having to take Dramamine at least an hour before boarding. overseas flights are a bugger…
I digress, as usual. Yesterday’s surgery went as expected. I think. Because I get so violently ill in the recovery process, my post surgery “conversation” with the docs is always scheduled a few days later. after the nausea and spinning stops. this time though, I finally acquiesced and filled the prescription for mild non addictive pain medication. in the hopes i can sleep as my friend, Insomnia, has been on an extended visit. the problem with any medication for me, especially those that alter my mind or leave me feeling out of control; is that I am compelled to write, communicate, reach out. basically word vomit with very little filters. I cry a lot too.
a favorite “mood” song for me is by joan armatrading “weakness in me” I remember hearing it years ago buried in the sound track of a movie. in looking for more of her music, I stumbled upon “love by you”
i’ll leave you with it then.
musical musing. seem to be on a bit of a music bender as of late *shrugs*
originally posted to drafts folder 30 July 2014
there’s nothing like opening the mail to find just under $17,000 (usd) worth of unpaid invoices for your child’s healthcare waiting for payment. It’s not lost on me that I am blessed to be doing work I love for an employer that I admire and is stable within the industry. More importantly, provides healthcare that covers the kidlets and me to the tune of well over 6-figures each year.
I keep all of my blessings in mind as dh and I continue to navigate marriage counseling, life and our individual needs.
….and or saved in the drafts folder in order to write more later. the next few posts are likely going to reflect this habit of mine.
posted these image quotes to my drafts folder 4 February 2014. (side note: three days before D-day.)
I was going through very regular and arduous chemo treatments every other week and unlike previous treatment plans, this round was kicking my ass. There was surgery at the end of December and the healing from that was taking longer than I expected. I had once again brought up the subject of counseling to dh, testing the waters if you will, again. And again, he wasn’t interested at all. And even went as far as to say he wished I would lean on friends and my therapist for emotional support because as he said at the time “it’s not in my wheelhouse, you know that.” I admit that in that moment, I already knew who I could lean on, even from three thousand miles away, I was just hoping dh would be the one.
On this particular day, it had been several months since we’d seen one another in real life and yet he had found a way to connect with me that I had come to look forward to. He would leave me a daily greeting the moment he went to his office, knowing that I would wake up to a voicemail from him every day had become the highlight of the two months he’d been doing it. It may seem small or insignificant to some, maybe even most people, and of course horrible to those that don’t approve/agree of our mutual admiration society. But to me, especially to me it was his way of giving to me, what I needed at the time.
Outside of the guilt and the remorse, and yes, there is guilt and remorse. There is also love. I recall starting this post with the three images below because the words resonate and because regardless of who you are, who you love and who loves you back, it’s different for everyone. it’s nuanced. it’s flawed. and it’s messy.
as i’m sure my fellow bloggers, complicitgrace and thewomaninvisible , can attest to, as well as understand, last week at work was brutal. while a (current) survivor of the round of layoffs as well as one of the project leads at the global company my career is tethered to, there is the aftermath to deal with.
the aftermath of assisting those impacted by job eliminations but those that have survived and frankly, those of us on the project team as well. believe it or not, it’s hard to switch back to “normal” given the size and scope of what we just undertook. and we did it without outside consultants or hired guns (think “up in the air” starring mr. clooney above) which can really, suck. there’s nothing like being the one to have to notify a colleague, neighbor, former lover (not me but my colleague inadvertently was assigned to deliver the news to a team that included her first ex-husband!), etc. that they no longer have a job. even with a severance package that is generous, it’s crappy work. and a bit of you dies inside each time.
darling husband has known i was on some secret project for the last 9-weeks. it’s come up during our counseling sessions due to the inordinate amount of stress and some of the medical complications that my treatment has encountered as a result of that stress.
yet on the day of the actual milestone not one word of good luck, thinking of you or don’t worry you will get through it. instead he asks me to remember to pick his shirts up from the cleaners and to pick up a baby gift for one of his co-workers. and yet, he wonders when we sit in our counseling sessions how i can say “you just don’t get me”. i swear i wanted to scream and walk out the door. but that’s too easy. i know some folks, specifically a vitriolic troll, are always saying why don’t you leave and the reasons are numerous and complex. likely the same reasons dh hasn’t left either. yet.
so in practice of what we’ve been coached on in counseling, i tell dh what i need in that moment and for that day. and was clear that if he couldn’t provide it, i was going to reach out to my long distance friend for the reassurance and emotional connection he provides me. if even for a moment of solace. it’s the first time dh has acknowledged that maybe our son gets his autism from him because while he can see that kind of connection is important to me, he doesn’t understand why emotions are important. of course, i don’t have to reach out to “him”. when i finally log in to my laptop at work the first message that comes through is a silly limerick and a simple sentence telling me to take a deep breath, let it go and know that he’s thinking of me. and so it goes…
i’m sorry. this was posted on a tumblr i follow and it was too funny as a former catholic schoolgirl to *not* post. literally made me laugh out loud. similar in vein to the classic kevin smith movie “dogma”
is me is really me 