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My spirit and mood have been vacillating, wildly and erratically at times, between gratitude for life and wishing to be finally done with this journey.  Folded in among this particular ping pong game of emotions there burbles nostalgia for what never was but wished for anyway, moments and times.  Like say, the throb of deep connected love with the same person for a long period of time and the resulting imagined passionate lovemaking.  And let me not forget to write of the fear, dread and anxiety brought on by considering medical procedures, tests and surgeries meant to return to me my health and maybe, may I hope, my sanity. 

Where does one go when the well is dry.  Bone dry.  Yet the body still thirsty and the spirit weak.  Prayer feels too hard.  No, not hard, just not for me.  Not now.  I suppose I feel undeserving somehow of asking for help.  Hard to do this earth journey; seemingly impossible to bridge the worlds or universe. 

For now, I dwell in the land somewhere in between.

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All hands on deck. 

Both hands on the wheel at the 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock positions. 

Houston, we I have am the situation. 

Multiple choice.  Correct answer ~ all of the above.

Maybe I am unemployable. 

Maybe I am incapable of working for someone else; for very long.  And maybe I am not cut out to be a government worker. 

Just maybe. 

Today has been an exercise in watching and listening to people whose main priority was and is to cover their own asses, thus ensuring proper coverage of their government employer’s ass, which by the by is a very large ass.  Meaning there is a lot of ass covering to ensure. 

Meanwhile, my ego and self-worth both became larger and more trampled on as the day progressed.  Funny thing how wanting to be ‘right’ and its accompanying desire of wanting others to acknowledge one’s own rightness creates a big brouhaha.  Inside one’s own head, at least.  The one in this case, is me.  Time to deflate the old ego mania; to take off the eyeglasses of judgment and inhale a big cleansing breathe. 

Oh yeah.  Reminder to self ~ remember to exhale.

These past few weeks have been an exercise in cravings, delayed satisfaction, impulsive choice making, setting aside, procrastination, misplacing my mojo, re-discovering my mojo, percolating, marinading, and popcorning ideas, thoughts, theories, plain silliness, deep convoluted thinking meanderings and missing my blog. 

What I have been up to and the revolving re-occuring topics in my head have included, but have not been limited, to:

the hour and minute combination of 11:11 and the significance I have ascribed to this time

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Spring Fever, which morphed into Sunshine Fever, which changed to Restless Life Syndrome

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loving my job, total dissatisfication with the same job, searching for new job, applying for new jobs

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retirement preparedness, freaking out that I have failed, as in utterly, to formulate any such plan,

vesting, vacillating between commitment to stay for 3+ years to wear this retirement vest, back

to freaking out at the thought of such a long term commitment

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health issues, tipping over, milestones in sleeping upright, off low sodium plan, back on,

yo-yo eating plan

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poor body image, hating, shameful feelings, attempts to embrace my physical self

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vacations, destinations, monetary commitment toward vacations, gratitude for abundance

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Setting aside, walking through, moving around, navigating life’s detritus, waking up, being amazed,

feeling flummoxed, groaning disappointment, side-splitting hilarity, tears of pain and surrender,

loving and receiving affection

Man alive!  No wonder I have been absent.  That there is whole hella lot of living. 

Yes, indeed. 

Where I work there is a department called the Transitional Services Unit (TSU) that helps incarcerated youth return to their communities.  I understand that it was not that many years ago that this unit did not exist and that youth who had aged out of the juvenile justice system were simply released.  Set out on the curb so to speak.  Now each departing youth has a team who works with them and on their behalf to help them navigate the numerous changes and challenges. 

This morning, I realized that I need one of these TSUs of my very own.  Now whether or not I would make good use of their offered services, I do nots know for sure.  But I cannot help but think that there might be some comfort in just knowing I had this team of humans who were looking out and ahead for me, even for a little while. 

Because where I am today is a familiar place.  Familiar but full of danger and darkness.  This place where I end up after the ground opens underneath me and I experience the free fall into depression, a cavern of great depth.  This time, I did what I used to do many years ago, I pretended I was not falling ~ for a while.  That is until either the invisible tether securing me to the landscape of life, separated or the growing velocity of the plunge forced me to admit I was in this place, once again. 

I must snap out of my funk.  Create toe and finger holds to climb, pull and grunt my way to the surface.  Pronto.  Today is my middle grandson’s 14th birth day family celebration.  I love this boy, dearly.  I am to bring the cheese bread.  Cheese bread ~ his Grammie’s cheese bread ~ is one of his most favorite foods.  To not show up, cheese bread in tow, is not acceptable.  I love this boy. 

So I must figure my way out of this quagmire of self indulgent angst once again in order to leave my home, get in Buster Blue, drive to the grocery, purchase the ingredients, return home, make the cheese spread, drive to my daughter’s home, participate in the family birth day celebration and be part of my life ~ part of my middle grandson’s life. 

Where are the TSU personnel?  Hello?  Can you hear me? 

With or without other human help, I must assist mine own self.  I have been in this place before, many times in fact.  Surely I must know the way up and out.  I will look for some markers and familiar signs pointing ahead.

Human life on this planet requires general maintenance, of all kinds and assorted varieties.  Whether one is a city or country dweller, financially independent or living paycheck-to-paycheck, brown or white, Southern Baptist or Hasidic Jew, tall short or in between, mature or an infant, able or other bodied, LGBTQQ or undeclared, living within four walls or without a home, multilingual or mute, plain or gorgeously beautiful, argumentative or passive, a red head or bald.  It just simply does not matter.  Because in all cases, life requires general maintenance.  This general maintenance is also a requirement for our non-human friends and best buddies. 

Yesterday my car, Buster Blue, finally broke through my resistance and procrastination by chanting in an increasingly deep and manly voice, Feed Me Feed Me, Change My Oil, Bathe Me.  Anyone who doubts that cars talk to their human companions, are simply not putting on their listening ears and/or are living lives of extreme denial.  Buster Blue had had enough or in his case, not enough tender loving care.  He let me know, loud and clear and repetitively that his general maintance was overdue.  Long overdue.  So off to the car restaurant (aka gas station) and spa (aka carwash) we drove.  We ended Buster’s day of pampering with a trip to the internist (aka Jiffy Lube) for a total check of his fluid levels as well as checking his shoes (aka tires) for continued good fit (aka air pressure). 

Today, Buster Blue, is a happy dude.  I can hear him whistling a little tune from his warm room (aka garage). 

Buster reminds me that some things in life can be made all better with simple acts of attention and care, also-known-as general maintenance. 

Om.

In between my last post and last night, life has offered up a couple of opportunities ~ thick and juicy ones, as a matter of fact ~ to help grow my resiliency and encourage my practice of regulating my emotions.

That long sentence really means that it’s been a week, my friend ~ it’s been a week.

A week that I am glad and just a little (or more) proud for utilizing coping strategies that work when I put them into motion.

The majority of my emotional dysregulation (I love this term ~ it makes me smile) sprang from news from my health insurance provider’s announcement that my numerous medical appointments, tests, adjustments and procedures are not going to be covered, at all, due to a clause regarding pre-existing conditions. I won’t go into the whole ugly disempowering quagmire as I fear that might send me back to a tearful rageful place. I will say that I was able to put the situation into a more tolerable perspective within an hour of the event and carry on with my day. What’s more, I haven’t let it wreck my entire week. It’s definitely a low grade worrier and energy sapper and yet that feels so much better than totally giving into the doom gloom despair hatred and bitterness.

I am taking the steps to enter an appeal even though the insurance rep told me to do so was “futile.” Because after all futile is just a word ~ no greater in meaning than “hope.”

The purple hair comes into play as a product if you will of my medical condition, which causes unbearable vertigo when I lie down. And since my hair doesn’t naturally grow shades of purple and black, I go into a colorist to work her magic every 4-6 weeks. Since I cannot lie down to have my hair shampoo’ed, the Color Artiste Extradordinaire slaps color on my hair, wraps strands in foil and then straps a plastic shower cap like thing on my head and sends me on my way to wash out the excess dye in the standing up privacy of my own shower.

Sounds semi-simple enough, right?
Well, throw in the fact that the temps have been well below 0 Farenheit for some time now in this Corner of the Frozen Winter Earth and one can see that some anxiousness might begin to creep in when faced with opening the inside door to go to the outside world. OMG! My head might actually freeze. For realz.

It didn’t.
Thank goodness.

But I did end up ripping out chunks of hair trying to remove the foils that the Color Artiste thoughtfully made travel ready, meaning extra tightly folded so none would be lost in transport. Can you say Ouch! and Ouch, again! I did, my friend, I did. Along with a few other words that I won’t mention here. But a word is just a word, right?

I am relieved that I made it through my work week intact. I am grate-full that the Universe and all of my Guardian Helpers were there helping me along my path and I am appreciative of myself that I accepted the proffered assistance. All in all an okay week made even livelier by sporting bright new shiny purple hair.

There has to be a really good reason for me to stay indoors (again) today. Indoors, meaning to not crack the front door open even a tad. There has to be a really compelling reason to stay right where I am sitting in my cozy comfy living room. Because baby it’s freezing outside. Freezing as in really zero and below zero farenheit degrees freezing, frigid, frosting your tush off in a quick minute, cold.

However there are errands that need attending to that require me to go out there. I have cold weather gear that although not fashion forward, does the job in keeping my core body temperature in the still alive range when I am out and about.

Plus, fresh air is good for me. And, I will feel a sense of accomplishment once I return home from running my errands. Additionally, my life will run smoother this coming work week if I suck it up now and bite the frozen bullet and attend to life in the winter lane.

So here I go. This is me getting ready to blast myself out the front door. Yep, here I go. Here’s me being responsible and efficient.

May the Warmth be with me.

My Thriday has come around again.
Not one minute too soon or too late really.
Right on time actually.

I put in a solid work week that required lots of thought, challenging of beliefs, exercising my brain muscle, expanding my experience realm and providing good mental health services. A satisfactory and satisfying work week it has been.

Making me all the more glad and grateful that my Thriday has come around, again.

Have you heard of the White Coat syndrome? The kind of coat medical doctors wear? And the kind of fear and anxiety that patients sometimes feel and exhibit in the presence of the White Coat wearers? Well I can’t say that I have exactly that kind of fear and anxiety. But my levels of fear and anxiety come close to qualifying as a syndrome.

I am scheduled for an initial visit with a White Coated One later today. A specialist in dizziness and balance.

I am actually scheduled to see him tomorrow as I am writing this post tonight, the night before the scheduled initial visit but am scheduling this post to appear on my little blog tomorrow.

I do this kind of thing of late. Writing my posts ahead of time and scheduling them to post themselves another day. Just in case I am unable to make it to my computer due to my vertigo condition. The condition that is precipitating my dreaded scheduled initial visit with the White Coated One.

Posting regularly on my little blog helps me feel like I am doing well. Like I am capable of keeping my commitments made, if only to myself ~ the commitment still means a lot; to me.

So here’s to the White Coated One being able to help me move forward toward full health.

November 2018
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