Movie/Internal Review

The movies don't always come in the exact right order, but I tweak them by instinct or urges and what do you know- suddenly I've got messages from the Universe.

Of course, We Are Marshall is a pretty inspiring movie, but most of the movies tend to have relevance even in some small way.  What I liked about this movie was not just that it's a true story, but the little profiles on great coaches.  I have been reading Lincoln on Leadership for the apprentice class, and I get confirmation or reinforcement about the things I've read in many places I look lately.  That's nice.

So from this little coaching feature I took much motivation (Well, they wouldn't be great coaches otherwise, right?) and stole two tidbits.  I am going to be a self-help/new age fruit loop with these sayings taped up all over my apartment.  The latest two are:

Present
Positive
Process

The first is to be present- it doesn't matter how you got here.  The second is sometimes more than just a bit of a struggle.  The last part is to trust the process, and the coach said that's what he loved about athletics- there is just no way to rush that.

I thought about what Tracy said- that I need to have patience.  And 10- just go.

The other tidbit is Love & Balance, and I think that's clear enough.

This has been a difficult week for two reasons.  One is that my blood sugar has been going crazy and there were lots of phone calls and visits to the VA, not to mention that total restructuring of my shots- such a basic block in my tower- just how far down am I going in this remodel?  The other problem this week has been the same damn problem that you all are getting tired of hearing about.  Don't worry that I am stuck- I'm not.  I'm just catching up.  I will change my view and justification for everything I have done many times, I'm sure.

I keep having these dreams and yes, they are awful.  But it's not a question of avoiding them- I am just processing the horrible truth that the words I believed never could line up with the actions.

And speaking of relevant movies, Frankenweenie.  It really was cute, and I could never say that I didn't enjoy a Tim Burton movie, but I get seriously annoyed that so many kid's movies seem to want to teach kids that things that die can always come back.  I'm pretty sure that this relationship I had died a bloody, miserable, and permanent death, because even at the beginning of the breakup when he was doing all his waffling and pulling my heart apart, I knew that the only way for us to continue would be to live on a desert island with NOBODY else around.  Ever.  No disapproval, no roving skanks, no one invited to freely wander through our home and our lives, not even Ant- because Chris always had to be the fun friend parent and make me look like the constant asshole and/or stick in the mud.  How likely or even enjoyable does that sound?  Not very much, but when he came back from picking Ant up from the worst trouble at school ever and said to me, "I can't do this alone..."  I have never felt so torn.  Yes, even though it had nothing to do with me.

Frankenweenie should have stayed dead.  It's utterly devastating, but death is better than continually losing and regaining what you love, never knowing if it's back for sure and always knowing that the potential for loss is there and has likely already happened... again.  That's a mad, death yo-yo.

And I am enjoying my peace, which stretches out farther all the time.  But there is still grief.  It's a good thing that I am alone so much because it gives me time to do this.

So now I will close down the evening.  Riley is waiting for me to hide some treats among the furniture for her to find.  Solo is waiting to play with her fishing lure or laser pointer.  I will listen to Book Radio and no matter what I dream of, I will trust the process.

Dear Blog,

I went to Zumba tonight.

The instructor came in and had oohs and ahhs for the new construction.  "And now we have fans!" someone called out.  They didn't have fans before?  Good grief.  Oh, and there was a super intense class right beforehand, so it already smelled like sweat.  During the first song, I was like oh shit I got this, but when that ended, the instructor asked if we were warmed up now.  Uh oh.  Then the second song came on and everybody started doing some nonsense.  Then I was like huhwhaaaaaaa????  But I tried to keep up and followed along through most of it.  The entire time I was thinking Mmmmm, Red Lobster...

So now I'm at home ruining my progress with a mini quiche.  I'm going to watch Frankenweenie and enjoy an evening with my girls.  Tomorrow is my random day off, and I got a call today from the nurse wanting me to stop in.  I said I would, but now I think I will not.  Tomorrow is supposed to be appointment free, and I just don't think I will disturb that or I will be all resentful and I've spent enough time like that.  Tomorrow is only fun, happy things, starting with not going to the VA.

But hey, yay me!  I went to Zumba!  And- dare I say it- I could see myself going again!  Now my voicemail message (that says I am unavailable because I am working out) is no longer funny! Tonight  I learned that I no longer know how to use my feet for anything other than walking and I could not shake my hips if my life depended on it.  But maybe in this class I can learn to make reasonable moves to music!  How exciting!

Love,
Jenny

Not taking the bait

I am pretty sure I do not deserve this behavior.  I have the ability to quickly make his life hell but I don't- not for him, but because that is not who I want to be.  He either thinks I have no power or thinks that I won't use it, but that is not true.  My kindness will continue until I feel that all kind avenues have been exhausted and I am not being treated kindly in return.

I know two things: First, you create your own karma.  Second, these moments serve to remind me that this is how maddening it was most of the time, and thankfully I don't have to feel that way very often anymore.  You were right, Chris.  We did not belong together, even though there was and always will be a tremendous amount of love.  But we agreed to be kind, and this is not kind.  Find your kindness- if not for my sake, then for yours.

Altered Diabetic Directive

Great news- I bought only things on my list at Big Lots.

• tire gauge (First I wrote tired gauge)
• prong folder
• small notebook to keep track of blood sugar
• hairspray

Today was a series of ups and downs.  I woke up from my dreams of hunting Osama bin Laden (watched Zero Dark Thirty last night) and found that my blood sugar was high AGAIN.  This has become a frustrating problem lately.  Started working on that, getting ready for work, had more realizations that Chris is an asshole, blood pressure raised, can feel blood sugar following suit.  Start wondering why nobody at the VA has called me back, goddammit, stupid federal agency-

And then the phone rings.  It's not even 7:45, who the hell is at the VA yet?  Well, it's my team nurse, and she has wrangled me an appointment this morning with the pharmacist to try to work on my blood sugar spikes.  Suddenly everything's nice and calm and taken care of and I sit down on the couch, morning rush ceased, and pet Riley.  Ahhhh.

At the VA, I see the pharmacist, my team nurse, and my team's surrogate doctor.  He comes in and throws a wrench right into my world, changing how I determine my shot and when I give it.  I am thrown by this information, go to see Diabetes Educator to run this new plan past her.  She calls the Endocrinologist, who approves.  Diabetes Educator talks with me for a long time, answers questions, makes suggestions, solves my stupid meter's battery problem, encourages me, hugs me.  I leave feeling excited and ready to try out this newfangled system.

Normal procedure for the last twelve years: Test, determine carb count, determine correction, take insulin shot. Eat.

New procedure: Eat, wait 20-30 minutes, test, subtract 150 from blood sugar reading, divide by 10, take that number of units of insulin.

I started this plan today at lunch- right after I left the VA.  I got my kit out automatically, remembered that I'm supposed to just eat, put my kit away, felt really awkward, set my timer for 25 minutes.  25 minutes later, my timer went off, I tested, did the equation, and took a shot.

Snack time: Eat, wait 20-30 minutes, test, do the equation, reject the idea of taking 16 units of insulin.  Call Diabetes Educator.  No answer, leave message, take 4 units.  She calls back, informs me that I am not supposed to be using the new plan for snacks, just meals.  This is going to be so much fun!

Dinner: Am all prepared to try new plan, eat dinner, know the exact carb count (for logging purposes), write down the time I start eating so I can test at the right time, get distracted during the 20 minutes, leave the house without taking a shot.

Go to Big Lots, putter around in the notebooks, peruse the hairspray and wonder what in the hell I am supposed to buy, purchase items, start driving home, get distracted by huge full moon rising and dipping below Rattlesnake Mountain, drive around looking for a photo op, forget that camera phones do not have telephoto lenses, start heading home, get concerned that someone is following me, initiate evasive measures, start weaving back through the neighborhood, remember that I forgot to take a shot, get depressed.  Test blood.  328.  Feel like a ding dong.  Guess at insulin dosage.  Feel sorry for the medical professionals that have to help me.

So the exception to the normal procedure for the last twelve years is that if I test and I'm at, say, 97, I eat first and take a shot 20-30 minutes later.  The trouble is, I'm so used to taking my shots before a meal that I often forget to take a shot at all during these exceptions.  How am I supposed to do this full-time?  This strikes me as a recipe for disaster.  If anyone has ideas on what I can do to remember this absolute reversal, please let me know.  I'm very open to suggestions.

But hey- I'm writing this blog from home and not on my phone!  I'm stealing internet- yay!  And honestly, Mom- I have a whole pile of things to work on and an article taped to the wall that I think Marty may have sent to me about submitting writing.  I'll be working on it, but even though it's 7:40 at night, I am very tired gauge and am going to go brush Riley, listen to the radio, and pass out.

Clean house, tired Jenny

I love moments like this.

It is hard to stop the imaginary arguments and the whole thing is ridiculous and sad, but thanks to a lot of love from the people around me, I have a lot to be grateful for- and what I feel is a huge head start. It feels so good, though, to be able to maintain on my own. I am fretting about potential emergencies, but as Mom pointed out, that's progress. Before, there was always a problem with the immediate. Ugh, but anyway. I am a roller coaster of issues, but I need to recognize the progress.

I made a mess in my kitchen, but I heated up those frozen meatballs you made, Ma, in my new teal fucking frying pan, and had spaghetti tonight. It was so good that I made yum noises while eating it. I finished Zero Dark Thirty with Solo curled up in my lap and Riley at my feet, tuckered out after dog class. She pulled me into Pet Smart today. I found the energy (a timer helps) to clean the kitchen before I sent myself to bed, and tomorrow I might just go to Zumba. This is better.

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I guess I'll just need a nap later.

Every time I have one of these dreams of reconciliation attempts, I wake up feeling sick and shaken. The dreams reflect what I understand awake or asleep: the fiction of the fix as Fiona says. I suppose these dreams are just grief, reinforcement, and necessary, but they suck and it's hard to wake up wondering why- if I understand this- do I have to keep having them. Maybe for a lot of reasons, one of which is that this would be ten years right around here, and that is a long time. I need this grief and reinforcement.

I wake up and I am safe: not being lied to, not sitting next to someone and feeling like I might as well be miles away, not having people I don't know traipse through my house as if they live there. But sometimes I miss the noise, the chaos, and the fun it could bring. I love my quiet, my peace, and being able to have my place look nice and put together, but I dislike the loneliness. That will likely not be forever, I know, but as with everything, there is good and bad, but there is also better, and this is better.

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