The pressure

The pressure is starting to turn up on the surgery date getting close.

I’m suddenly feeling like there are so many things that I need to get done.

Most of which I don’t.

It’s not going to matter in the least bit if the kitchen is painted or not before surgery. But, I know that I won’t be able to do it for months afterwards due to the knee… which makes it feels like it needs done.

So many things feel urgent when I know that they aren’t.

And do I really need 3 extra things of deodorant? No. It’s only a few weeks before I’ll be able to drive again and use the dorky motorized cart in the stores. But… it feels like I needed to grab three. Eventually I’ll use all three… so I grab 3. And extra bottles of shampoo and conditioner even though I’m not likely to run out of either soon. Etc.

When you are about to have a baby, they call it nesting. Wonder if that applies pre-surgery too?

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Medlessly

So.. the docs require that I be off almost every med for at least 2 weeks before surgery, and some of them for up to 6 weeks afterwards.

Some of these make sense… like the ones that raise the risk of blood clots, and the ones that run the risk of making blood pressure drop too low.

But.. the ones that are killing me, is not being allowed to take any pain meds except tylenol.

I’ve been on some form of pain med since september. And they help, a lot.

This… hurts.

And I’ve come up with a theory.

I think that being off the pain meds isn’t medically needed.

But they do it to remind you why you need to have the surgery.

When the pain isn’t there due to meds chasing it off, its easy to forget what the full brunt of it feels like.

Which makes it easier to second guess if you really need to go through with it.

Yeah… I’ve been reminded.

Now can I go back on? lol

Depending on me

I’ve calmed a bit on the surgery worries.

The biggest thing is that it finally hit me that there’s a difference between this time and the injury itself.

Because this time, I have warning.

I know it’s coming, and I know what the weaknesses and needs were after the injury, and I can prepare.

I can depend on myself and my own planning and preparations, rather than depending on others afterwards.

A lot of things can be planned ahead to stock up enough to last through when I’ll be able to restock them again myself.

I can get big bags of cat food and cat litter now. If it’s more than I need for the time, it will still get used.

I can get a ton of bottled water, pop, and snacks. I can make sure I have drinks and snacks and shelf-stable foods for breakfasts and lunches within reach from my bed, and within reach from the couch when I get feeling up to moving around. I can stock the freezer up with microwave meals for when I’m feeling more mobile.

I can get all the laundry done, purchase extra socks and underwear and towels, have spare blankets close and extra sheets in my room.

I can make sure my kindle has books, my charger for it and my phone are close, my laptop is moved to be easier to access, and that I have lots of yarn and my crochet bag nearby. I can record movies and other interesting stuff on the DVR to be watched when I get too bored.

I can make sure my bills are all taken care of in advance if they will be due during the next few weeks afterwards… and plan all other things for a few weeks out unless absolutely critical.

I can take care of my post-op self, by my current self.

So I can make it to where more of the factors depend on only me.

This makes me feel a lot better about how the recovery will go.

Embers

I was trying to do a notecard fire in my fireball, and it wasn’t going well.

A notecard fire is similar to burning a letter…. but more like a conversation… with God, the world in general, or someone in particular.

Instead of writing a full letter… you sit before the fire with paper and pen…. writing a thought or a sentence… and giving it to the fire… and repeating.

It had first been suggested to me by a counselor…. as with some people like my dad, it’s hard to really write out thoughts into a letter when they werent someone who had been given access to my heart. It’s easier to just write a phrase or short sentence, disconnected from the previous ones… a thought and feeling all its own.

To me, it’s a lot easier than a letter…. with prayer and such I’m usually phrases and meditation style rather than sentence and structure, so this is more similar.

And sometimes its a more concrete version of prayer when things aren’t going well emotionally.

So, it had been a stressful week, and emotionally, I just needed this… and practically, this was the only night I could really do it because of other things going on.

But… it was cold, and windy… and sort of damp.

Even with moving my ball over to a more wind protected location, it just wasn’t going well.

I got it going briefly twice… but soon, I was staring at embers… burning, but not fire… not catching into the wood chunks from the kindling… and I pretty much feeling like crying.

I sat there for about 5 minutes… trying to see if I could make it work… and I prayed, asking just "Do I give up?".. wonder whether to keep trying to get the wood to take, or to just go inside and cry.

A minute or two later, the nudge finally came… saying "You only rely on embers when you have no other options."

Could my embers have finally taken off and turned into the flames I needed? Yes. They were burning. There was heat there. Nobody would say there wasn’t a chance…. forest fires have started from less.

But.. I had other options that I could be trying, that had the potential to be answers to getting the fire going more easily than fighting my embers into flame.

I went inside, got cardboard, and soon had a small fire going. Not the fire I’d hoped for, but given the conditions, the best I was going to get.

But, how many places am I dealing with embers in my life?

Is it possible to return to school? Maybe. But is it really something that is going to be worth the difficulty if there are other options? I don’t know.

A lot of the family stuff can basically boil down to dealing with embers. Is there something there that might possibly have hope? Yes. I can’t deal with it by pretending its cold ashes. But nor is it the fire that I need in my life… it doesn’t serve the purposes that I need it to serve…. it might someday be able to be fanned into flame with some good degree of luck and a lot of effort, but is it really the most efficient way to fill that need?

If I want fire… I might be doing better to be looking for better kindling.

Just easier said than done.

Wedded aftermath

So, the wedding didn’t go as bad as expected, but I still would have preferred to skip it.

Only about 1/4 of the chairs were filled at the ceremony… and my mom, daughter, and I were the only people from our side of the family.

An aunt and uncle came to the reception, so I spent most of the time talking to them and seeing pics of my cousins’ kids on their cell phones.

We almost left immediately after the ceremony… as my daughter was in tears at having been assigned to the kids table. Which sounds minor, but she did have a point… she’s 13, and the oldest at the table by far given that the next oldest was 8. Meanwhile, her 14 and 15 year old cousins were at the adult table.I’d like to say it was probably an oversight and just a generic cut-off age, but unfortunately, with the bride’s past actions, I’m pretty sure it was intentional. But either way, my mom just told my daughter to sit next to her, and as we were at the very far end from the bride and groom anyway it was not even noticed that I know of.

Actually, neither the bride nor the groom even acknowledged I was there in any way. Not a word was said to me.

But beyond that… essentially the entire night was about the bride’s family. All of both sides of the wedding party, all of the non-party speeches, all of everything was basically just her family’s party. I guess to some degree all weddings are, but this just seemed really extreme. They did eventually do a mother groom dance.

But, to be honest, when I’d been engaged, I remember wondering if any members of my family would even show up to an out of state wedding, or if there would be attention queen drama if certain ones did…. and they are my own family. So I guess to some extent I can understand how the bride would feel the same way by amplified if even I was uncertain.

But still, think I would have preferred to have not even gone.

My mom did do the relative role for pressure… telling me she’s not getting any younger, and that she would have expected me to be the first of her kids to be married instead of the last. I very nearly let a phrase out of my mouth that would not have been in any way polite, but stopped it, barely, and just said nothing. It’s not like she doesn’t know how life has gone for me in the past few years… she knew exactly what sore spot she was hitting as far as attacking my relationship failure.

But it just wasn’t worth the battle.

But another factor that I hadn’t even considered as a touchy point for the wedding was that it was located in the town where we grew up, about half an hour from where I live now.

So, it also sort of hit on sore spots on where I would have expected my life to be by now… dreams from when I was younger that haven’t come to pass and probably won’t, for many different areas of my life.

The lake where the hall was located was also the scene for an incident with my dad that had ended up ending his visitation for a while until I got my license and could drive my younger brother and I to the town where he lived and hour away.

So it was a bit touchy there too.

But no tears. From any of it.

Just sort of a depressing evening.

My Valentines

So, I made a decision for valentines this year that I would not be mopey or bitter.

And so, I decided to do my own valentines gifts… things I liked but that I normally wouldn’t buy for myself.

Pretty yarn for a loopy rug for my room. A cushioned hook for making it, even though I have a metal one in that size. A cute stuffed kitty. Truffles with white chocolate centers I normally declare too expensive. Milk chocolate covered almonds and cashews from a local nuthouse that are amazing. A new candle.

Things to make me smile. 🙂

And honestly, better than most guys would manage to do lol.

It also helps having a date, although a very non-serious one (only third time out with this guy).

Life moves on.. and so does happiness. 🙂

Guitar

I like playing my guitar.

I suck at it… mainly due to fat fingers… but I enjoy it anyway.

But, it seems to go in spells as to how much I actually exercise that enjoyment.

I’ll play it a lot for a while… then off and on for a while… then I sort of forget to make time to pick it up at all for a while and have to start all over with the calluses forming and being painful for a bit to play much.

But I know I enjoy it… so why do I just forget to do it? Knowing that I will be happy doing it?

It’s just sort of a weird cycle.