Positive Reinforcement is Hard to Find

It's hard.
I haven't been posting, because I haven't been positive or happy. It's par for the course currently... I have a few good days, and the rest... Just sort of blend together and meld, and I don't know how time flies past so damn quickly. But everything mushes together, and days become weeks I've missed. Months I've missed.

It's depressing to think I've spent the past 14 months in this leather recliner. It's depressing to think about the amount of money spent on medications which take the edge off my pain most days, but never really makes it go away. It's depressing knowing I have to depend and rely on others for my survival. It's depressing to not have control of my body the way I want to. I'm not going to lie. Depression is a hard burden to carry. It's heavy, it's lingering, it's there. Looming like a shadow, the proverbial gray rain cloud that's been following me. And it sucks. I think of it very much like one of those Dementor things in Harry Potter- depression sucks the life, the happiness, the joy, the interest out of everything. It's a black hole that sucks everything into it, stretching out its tendrils to reach every possible corner of your mind in an attempt to overtake it and control it with insidious wickedness and thoughts that aren't mine. Not really, but somehow end up in my mind. Things I wouldn't otherwise think of- never giving it a second to enter my mind. But there it sits, it simmers, and I refuse to look it in the face. I don't want that ugliness, that desperation to ever surface. Let me make this clear- I'm not suicidal. I can't say I haven't had thoughts though. Nothing serious, nothing I'd follow through with or even attempt to act out... I'd hurt too many people if I left. Besides, with all the courage I hold- suicide is not an option I'd ever entertain seriously. Ever.

I've been fighting it. One hell of a fight indeed. I know and am aware I don't have the motivation to be up and about like I used to. Not being able to work has been a big hit to my ego, not to mention the social interactions I miss because of it. Good, bad, awful, indifferent- I don't care. One one hand, I miss interacting with people. Yet at the same time- I absolutely despise it. Most days I don't want to put my face on, I don't want to force the smile, pretend I'm alright. I'm not. People piss me off these days. I have absolutely no patience for the rude asshats I see out and about, and if someone acts like a moron I have no qualms about saying such. Most are shocked when I comment, and have no reaction because nobody dares say anything to anyone these days. I walk away while they look like dumb animals with mouths wide open ready to catch flies. I like the shock value. That almost makes it worth going out and trying to hide how disgusted with myself I am. I try to disguise it with my online alter-ego. It's easy to see days I'm not putting much effort into being happy.

It shows in the lack of blog posts. The lack of status updates. The lack of communicating with friends. The lack of me not picking up my phone when calls come in, not answering texts, not responding. I don't throw the towel in on days like that- I just procrastinate procrastinating. It can all be done later. It can wait. It doesn't have to be done right now. Why bother? What's the difference? Nobody cares. Those are my thoughts.

I'm a Total Moron (cussing post)

An epically stupid thing happened a little while ago.

And be forewarned, I cuss a bit in this rant.

What you know: we now have 5 cats.

Mitts died two weeks ago. I miss him so much... But we'll have him back home soon and buried in his favorite spot in the garden.

Ratcat is somewhere hovering around, being paranoid.
Balls, well he's been taking off for days for some reason, and comes home when he feels like it. We're not entirely sure right now if he's inside, or out. Guess we'll find out when it's breakfast time.

Hobbes, was left in the kitchen on his leash for a while tonight. (I'll give an explanation in a moment)

Peeps, has been leashed but around me all day today.

Little Dude (Hobbes and Peeps son), has been hanging out. Luckily, he has no idea what a female cat in heat means, and he's not yet old enough to understand. Thankfully. Yes, he'll be fixed soon.

Problem: I didn't know Hobbes was in the kitchen.

Problem: Peeps is in heat.

Epically Stupid moment: I brought Peeps over to eat, not seeing Hobbes or his leash.

Positive Thinking

I'm working on it.
The Happiness Project, as my friend Ber has introduced it... An ongoing attempt to make each day better than the last. To see myself differently than I do now. How is that? Well... I typically don't talk about myself in terms of feelings. Sure, I tell you how my body feels day to day, many of you know that much at least. But as for mentally? I kind of keep that buried and hidden as best I can, for fear that someone will see just how broken I am. Or at least, how broken I perceive myself to be.

I'm writing this early today, before I have time to really think and mull over what I should exclude, in terms of writing a sanitized post. I don't want it to be fluff. I want it to be raw, bare, and exactly as it's coming out of my brain at the moment. The meds have kicked in, and I'm fuzzy... But determined to get at least something positive out today.

I'm noticing things I do, and how they're not constructive to me as who I am.
I don't take compliments very well. I either brush them off, or flat out deny it. Why do I do this? I'm honestly not really sure. Maybe it's because I feel like I'm vain if I agree I'm beautiful. I simply say I'm pretty. I feel like someone is not really being truthful when they tell me I'm gorgeous. Again, I only think I'm pretty. I'm not skinny, I'm no longer considered "fat". I could stand to lose more weight- but for right now, I've lost 70lbs. I'm considerably lighter than I was last year. That's a big step for me, especially considering I don't get much physical activity into my schedule- and no, swiping on makeup does not count as much as I'd like it to.

My teeth. I'm so self conscious of my teeth. They look stained and yellow to me, yet friends say I should smile more often. I have a beautiful smile. My response to that is simply "It's a work in progress." Yes, I have braces. Yes, my missing tooth up front is making its way down to where it belongs. It's a process. I'm so self conscious of that gap it's not even funny. So when you see me smile close-mouthed, or turning my head so you see the left side of my face... That is why. I don't want you to see that gaping hole.

At my breastbone, I have an awful dip. Most girls have very nice cleavage- boobs are smooth where they emerge from the ribcage. Mine? Nope, I've got a weird one. Not only are my boobs big, but instead of looking normal (take a look at someone like Christina Ricci, or Heidi Klum) and you'll notice they have a beautiful rib cage and a nice "v" (for lack of a better description, since none is coming to mind) where their breasts kind of sit at the middle there. I have an awful gap, and I could only wish mine were as perky as theirs. And heck- look how many kids Heidi's had, and hers still look perfect. Ok, ok, I'll admit. She's most likely had plastic surgery- and if not, great. But there's still a whole lot of airbrushing going on. I'm insecure about it. I don't like it. Neither of my sisters has it. Just me.

I could point out a whole flurry of flaws I see within myself- I hate the bags under my eyes. My fingers aren't long and graceful looking. My right foot looks awful. My left knee has asphalt still in there from a rollerblade crash 10 years ago. I look awful without makeup. My hips are too big, my butt is too jiggly, my thighs are huge, my belly is smaller but still not ideal, I don't like the fat lumps my bra makes when it slides to an incorrect position. I complain, I'm bitchy, ornery, completely unmotivated, a wicked procrastinator and really don't want help even if I could use it. I'm too proud to ask, and usually shoo people away that do try to help. In my head, the emotional abuse I let assault me could go on for days, weeks. Months even. There really isn't much about me that I like right now. I suppose that's because I've allowed myself to get into this mindset of negativity, and with a list like that I could go on and on.

I'm insecure. I'm a bit lost at the moment. But I'm finding my way through each day, out of bed each morning, and sometimes even getting out of the house. I never intended on becoming a recluse, hermit, but I have.

I'm realizing though, I'm not as bad as I think I am. I am my own toughest critic, and it's hard to look in the mirror each day and will myself to make it better than yesterday. I'm determined to do it.

I'm worth more than I give myself credit for. I often tell this to my friends, and even strangers online who have become friends, yet I don't take my own advice. I suppose that makes me a bit of a hypocrite- and it's something that is going to stop.

I started to change yesterday. Today I will continue. And tomorrow will be the same.
I will take something I don't like about myself, and learn to love and accept it for who I am, because without it... I would not be me.

Unhappiness and General Loathing

It's why I haven't posted lately. I haven't found much inspiration to write, nevermind play with makeup. It's been months since I've done a tutorial, and I only do my makeup when I absolutely have to go out. I love receiving it. I love the anticipation of getting a package in the mail. I love opening it up, looking at it in my hands... And then, for some reason, the spark goes out.

Like a puff of smoke, that excitement is gone... Poof.

I'm finding it very hard, day to day, to get up and do something. Anything. You know this, because I've shared it before. I've become far more withdrawn than I'd like to be, in an effort to keep most of you blind to the fact that I'm in pain nearly constantly. I think the only time I'm not is right after nerve blocks are done- when the majority of the pain lessens, and when I take my night medications which knock me out and literally put me into a deep sleep. It's then I rest. The drawback? I no longer dream.

I miss my dreams. Colorful, vibrant, sometimes adventures I have. They've been my escape from the boring, repetitive days I often have. No more, not when I have to medicate and put myself out. I've been fighting insomnia for some time now. Val is the medication at night, and if I don't take it... I don't sleep. I'll literally lay in bed, staring at my ceiling, thoughts in my head going a million miles a minute and not making sense... But not quieting so I can rest. I just let my body lie there. The sounds are loud, I don't sleep without the aid of the medication. I don't like it. I used to be able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I used to be able to move when I slept- now when I do, it wakes me.... Painfully. Sometimes I crack, sometimes I pop, sometimes it feels like I have someone standing at my shoulders, another at my feet, and they're pulling an elastic band that starts on my right second and third toe... Tightening up the bottom of my foot, up the back of my heel, up my calf, thigh, right butt cheek, and finally my hip and back area where the spasm still resides. On especially bad nights, it goes as far as my shoulder blade. Chronic pain. The spasm still has not let loose, at all. Same one, over a year now. It's frustrating.

I know I'll get better, but sometimes I wonder. Why is it taking so long already?

A recent episode really troubles me. I was late to my doctor appointment, and the Cow at the front reception desk turned me away. Sat there, argued with me I was late- when I was not. I explained to her that my doctor gave explicit instructions to get to him as soon as possible when I feel something off in my back, or the spasm starts to worsen and I have more pain. It's what I did in this case. The time it took to explain this to her basically used up my "appointment time". She told me I was welcome to sit in the waiting room on the off chance that at some point that afternoon I'd be able to see him. I showed her my cane, explained I've started falling again, and I can't sit in anything upright for any period of time. It has to be a recliner otherwise my back starts to protest even more. She had no compassion, no sympathy, empathy, or anything. Just said so what, if you don't want to wait you don't have to. I had to reschedule, and did such finally giving her back the rude attitude she was spitting at me with. I went in on a Wednesday, she scheduled me for Monday. Apparently there were no other appointments which were available- which was a lie, but that's beside the point. When I asked her for medication samples that I needed, so I don't get worse, she sat there, rolled her eyes and told me to ask my doctor when I came in on Monday.

Let's make a deal...

Let's Make A Deal by Diane Blue
 
You forgive me for liking you too much,
And I'll forgive you for not liking me enough.

You forgive me for missing you so,
And I'll forgive you for being so cold.

You forgive me for the loud racing of my heart,
And I'll forgive you for not hearing it.

You forgive me for playing your games,
And I'll forgive you for toying with my emotions.

You forgive me for finding you so attractive,
And I'll forgive you for not noticing.

You forgive me for raising you up so high,
And I'll forgive you for bringing me down so low.

You forgive me for wanting to be with you,
And I'll forgive you for avoiding me.

You forgive me for being so pathetic,
And I'll forgive you for taking advantage of it.

You forgive me for not being able to let go,
And I'll forgive you for never having latched on.

You forgive me for having hopes and dreams,
And I'll forgive you for crushing them.

Forgiveness brings inner peace.
Do we have a deal?

***

I loved him.

I lost him.

I've vowed to never, ever let it happen again.
I won't be hurt.
I won't be vulnerable.
I won't feel, and it's alright.
I'm ok with it.
I'll laugh again.
I'll like again.
I don't know if I'll ever love again.
I'm not holding my breath, and remains to be seen.
It can't happen if I don't let it.

Restarting the Project

I started, but didn't complete the photographs I had planned on taking. I suppose I have no one to blame but myself, however in my defense... Feeling out of it, generally shitty and having to take and edit photos on top of dealing with the Holidays.... My mind goes elsewhere, as in hibernation, and I slacked off. I didn't post a photo a day like I was going to.

So here's the project for this year. Starting the first of February, I will post for this project again. I'm officially calling it the 52 week project... But if I can somehow juggle everything, and get a photo a day done... Than great... I will do such. The biggest motivators for me are putting me into something I know I have to get done. This will be one of those items.

I'm not sure where I'm going next with this disability battle... I have a feeling I may be taking action against both the disability company that has now twice denied me benefits, and the doctor who overdosed me on some seriously bad medication without a second thought. Indeed, this is the same doctor who claimed "Nothing is wrong" with me. Really sir, you're telling me the picture below tells you... There's nothing wrong with me?

Let me tell you something. Just because an injury doesn't present itself immediately after trauma, doesn't mean there isn't anything there or wrong. In some cases, it can take quite a long time for a problem to present itself... As it's done with me.

Just because you have a degree from some bullshit medical school, and the fact that you most likely kissed ass during your residency at Mass General doesn't mean you know what my body is feeling and telling me based upon one consultation. My biggest question is if you thought nothing was wrong, why was I put on a seizure controlling and pain management medication- on a dose that would cause damage to an adult?  Personally, asshole, I think it's because you get kickbacks from insurance and disability companies to give false information so the claims are denied.

Luckily, I believe in Karma. And trust me, what goes around will come around.

And you'll face what you've done to not only me, but how ever many other patients you've left dangling in the breeze.

As for the disability company which will remain nameless for the time being... I should have trusted the opinions and facts left in countless forums online absolutely bashing you for the careless, inconsiderate and cold way you treat us disabled people.

That's enough of a rant for now.

Oh, and on a funny side note. I was watching TV late one night last week, and my Ma and I happened to catch an episode of Judge Joe Brown. One of the cases involved a woman who was not only white trash, but was on full disability. She didn't appear to have anything wrong- there was no outward signs of an evident disability. When questioned what she had received full coverage for.... I hit the roof.

She's dyslexic.

I can see how it might be a reading, or speech, problem she may have. But her temper got the best of her, and she was slinging words around like the best of 'em. Luckily the Judge shut her up... But really?

I have a four inch thick file documenting problems I've had with my back for the past 5 years, and the additional mountain of forms my Doctor has been kind enough to fill out. It's been determined that the crash I was in back in March of 2007 hastened the genetic disposition I have to Arthritis and Degenerative Disc Disease in the lumbar area of my back. It's also been noted that I have Failed Back Syndrome- even though I have not had surgery, it can still be diagnosed- and it's the reason I'm in the state I am now.

You try walking around, and feeling your spine slip and slide out of place.

You feel what it's like to have one of the vertebrae "pop", and make an audible sound.

You take an hour in the morning to stretch before getting out of bed.

You deal with the medications, the paperwork, the bullshit red tape.

I'll tell you what though.... You picked the wrong person to make "go away".

I'm not going to do it. I haven't thus far, and I'm sure not going to start now.

Zombies

I'm not drugged out and feeling like one as often any more... But I freaking LOVE this dress. Sure I'm forgetful, sure things slip my mind and I end up looking at you as if you've got three heads when something I don't remember is brought up. It's better than a blank stare, right?

Image from TooFastOnline

Thanks for listening to me vent the other day. It was rough, but I'm doing better today. The sun's out, I found this awesome Zombie Dress... And it rocks.

Struggling

I've been fighting words the past few weeks, I don't know how to talk. I don't know how to say it. So I'll just tell it as it forms. I don't know how to not break down...

Slowly, I'm cracking. Slowly, the fissures open up further and further... The pressure, the stress, the frustration and outright anger pushing them open more and more.

My "Merry Christmas" came in the form of a letter from the disability company I've been fighting with on December 27th. While my Christmas with my family was great, this was news I was hoping would be better this time around. The envelope was thick, a few pages of paper. I opened it... Started to read... Scanned for what I was looking for, but instead found...

Denied.

Again. I've been fighting with M for months. Hell, a few more and we can call it a year. Between me doing all the footwork for their lazy, brainless, insincere and cold uncaring treatment from the beginning, and this second devastating blow, I broke. I cried, for a long time. It was days before I decided I should wear something other than PJ's around the house. Days before I could come up with a reason, any reason, to get out of bed. Days before I ventured outside. Even this morning, it was a monumental effort to drag myself out of bed to come downstairs. I have very little interest in anything lately.

Happiness is fleeting. I have good days, I have bad days. I have really bad days. Each is consisting of a various amount of things- including pain level, stress level, mental state, motivation... Blah blah blah. When I have one, typically it's ok to plaster on a smile and will myself to feel better. Two or more, and I let myself just melt into my chair... Computer on my lap, not really paying attention to what's on my screen.... And let the hours tick away. Wasting time, so much that by the time my eyelids droop, my eyes sting, and my head is foggy... I finally retreat to bed.

This not working, not being active, not doing much of anything is so unlike me.

I'm used to working. I'm used to be go-go-going. This fog, this pain, this entire thing I've become so comfortably numb with is slowly eating me away. I hate it.

Can you imagine how hard it is to sit up, roll out of bed. To look into a mirror and see a body that should be functioning with little problem. A body that should be skiing down a mountain slope, not curled into a recliner at an odd angle trying to find that "sweet spot" which is comfortable. A body which does not do what I want it to. Painful spasms, kinks, contractions which hurt. Feeling like I've sat down on a baseball on good days, and a cantelope on bad. The really bad days... I don't have a comparable object. Sort of like the Princess and the Pea.... Except mine's stuck in my friggen back. Multiple places.

I've shocked some people with my appearance. I've lost 60 lbs since I came home. I'm noticeably thinner, even when I do wear bulky clothing. I know it's a compliment when people tell me I look good... Mostly, I don't disagree. But look at the cost of my new figure. Months of being off my feet. A misdiagnosis from multiple doctors, an overdose of a heavy duty medication from a supposed neurologist. Musical-chairs with medications, trying combinations of this and that to see what works... What alleviates my pain, what alleviates the spasms, what will put me into manageable condition where I can partially function. I've found part of the answer now- with the help of Dr. C. It's only been since the end of September I've been able to say I'm not in a drug-induced medication fog. Not completely, at any rate. I'm impaired enough that I still cannot drive. That, for me, was my freedom. Get in the vehicle, drive a while. Think, calm down, see the big picture. Escape for a while. Now I'm just a passenger wherever I go. Though, I have to admit I like that my ass doesn't spread across the entire width of the seat anymore, and I do like that.

When I do smile, when I do laugh... I try to hold on to it for as long as I can. I want to be the silly, quirky, bubbly person I was just a year ago. I paint my makeup on so I can find happiness in it. I try to feel better...

But some days it's just too much effort.