The Rut Must Go!

I went for a walk today.

It’s nothing huge && not a big accomplishment, but I did. I walked outside earlier && there was a nice little breeze, it wasn’t excruciatingly hot today, so I put on my walking shoes && out the door I went. Boyfriend && I walked up to the park here in town and walked around it. We have this whole thing down. We will walk from the house to the park, walk around it a few times, and then wonder over to the small store next to it and get something to drink, then walk back to the park – go around a few more times && then walk home.

At least that is what we began doing a few months ago – before the toe incident.

Him && I just walked && talked. We talk a lot to each other && so it’s not anything new. But today we talked about things we would do if we were rich. I have always believed that I would be a fantastic rich person. Mostly because I’m full of love && I want to help so many people. (This is why people that know me well call me Canadian. I’m not, I was born in Texas.) So him && I talked about things we would want to do in this town that would benefit everyone including ourselves. Yes, I know people are always talking about wanting to help people if they had the money to do it, but I’m honestly not just saying it. Give me millions && see what I would do to help people. Yes, I would do some things for myself. Everyone does. I would make selfish decisions, but I can’t live uncomfortably if I’m trying to help others. && I’m not talking about building myself a huge mansion or buy a Lamborghini. I’m talking about smaller things for myself. I don’t really need anything. ((Other than a new house because bitches be lying about this house && it’s a piece of crap!!! I’m still salty. Have I wrote about this journey? I may at a later date.)

The walk was nice though. It began getting a little warmer the longer we walked, but according to my walking app we walked 1.38 miles in 44 minutes. I always like it when I go to doctors && we talk about exercising. They look at me && my size && always tell me “just start off slow, walk five minutes && work up from there.” I’m always thinking about myself, I can walk longer than that. That’s one thing I never want to lose the ability to do – walking at least a mile && still be able to move. Maybe when I’m older it can fade, but since I’m only in my 30’s, I would like to be able to walk a mile && not want to die. Even if I don’t walk for years && then start back up, I want that ability. && so far, I’ve kept it.

Although, there was a time I could walk a mile in 30 minutes. But I’m at turtle speed now.

I’m still trying for the keto-ish dieting idea plan strategy. Am I doing 100% great? No, of course not. I did make zucchini noodles the other day with some chicken. Boyfriend && I were nervous, so I only made two zucchini’s that night – I boiled it for one minute. It was turned out pretty good. Will I do it again? Probably, but with more zucchini. Next on my list is to use cauliflower instead of rice. Maybe make a fried “rice” style or something. I may do that tonight, I don’t know yet.

No matter – I’m here trying.

Something Simple.

I am writing/editing.

It’s been a while since I spoke about my writing journey. Lately, it’s been about my health and that journey. But last week, while I was off from work for a few days, I found myself finally pulling it back out && working on Frost. Did I finish it? Of course not. But I did finally get chapter ten finished, and retyped on my USB. Then I followed that up with chapters 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 && 16. I am now working on chapter 17, which is… a lot longer than I thought it was. However, most of it will be taken out.

When I began writing Frost, I was going for numbers versus content. Well, I recently read a self-published book and it was HARD to get through. In fact, I never finished it. I bought it, so I did help the author, I just didn’t enjoy it. After reading that one I realized that going for numbers versus content isn’t going to work. So I have a lot of “junk” in my writing that I need to take out. Which is where I’m at right now. Trying to get the “junk” out but keeping what I need for the book to make sense.

I know I’m going to be my hardest critic, like, there isn’t another person on this planet who is going to hate my writing as much as I hate it. So me trying to edit what I wrote is hard. I’m hard myself because of my word phrasing or my tenses, or spelling errors. I am hard on myself because I think it’s crap && no one is going to want to read it. Or the ones who want to read it hates it because it’s crap.

That’s what I feel when I look at it. That it’s pure crap. Nothing but && needs to be flushed with the rest of the crap. But I’m trying. I am, I’m honestly trying to finish it without throwing it in the trash. Although, if I did throw it away maybe it’ll be like Stephen Kings book, Carrie, that his wife dug out. I mean, he did throw that away. Hah! who am I kidding? I will NEVER have a career in writing like Stephen King. I will be lucky if this book even gets published. Hopefully, if it does, I’m not dead && someone in my family is going through my stuff and find the book && read it and then publish it. Dude! It would suck for the book to be popular, when I’m dead.

But that’s how it usually is, right? Most great writers aren’t found until they are dead. Eh, but with social media, I don’t think that would be the issue. The issue is that I haven’t completely finished the book and I began it in November 2012. But I’m sure I’ve stated that before && I’ve also stated that I finished the rough draft in January of 2015. So, since then, I’ve been trying to edit it, which I have rewritten the first five chapters approximately 500 times. Like, if I were to rewrite those chapters anymore, I’m pretty sure I’d have to rewrite the whole book. Every time I go to edit another chapter my mind starts reeling && I ended up wanting to change something else. But alas, I keep having to tell myself that I cannot keep rewriting the book.

Telling myself something is a lot easier than actually doing it. I want to find someone that will edit it for me. A professional editor, if you will. But at the same time I don’t want to ask one because it’s their job so they’ll want money && I don’t have any to give them. So then I thought maybe I could get a friend of two to read it && see if it’s even worth finishing. But I still have the option of complete strangers. Strangers will tell you the truth. Friends && family, not usually. Because in their heart of hearts they don’t want to hurt my feelings. So they’d read as much as they could, then tell me it’s great to finish it, but in reality it’s crap and I end up putting it in the back of my closet && never writing again.

That’s my writing rut, by the way. I have been in this position for years. It’s not something that just popped up all of a sudden. When I read articles about how to get out of the rut it always says to read more. Read often – read all of the time. Reading is supposed to help a writer get out of the funk. But, up until just recently, I haven’t been able to read a full book. I’ll begin a book, get bored, and never pick it back up. Even from my favorite author. I have read all of his books except one – because of the reading rut. I don’t want to start the book, then get bored, && never pick it back up. So I just never did. However, I was scanning through Amazon the other week and found a set of books. I bought the first one to check it out and ended up reading the whole book in one day. Went back && bought the other two. They aren’t long books, but the way I have been lately, a novella is a great way to start back up. Which, is I think, half of the reason I have been able to edit my book. Do I know that for sure? No – I could have actually just been really bored last week and thought hey, my book is there.

But I will say if you get the chance to read the three book series I’m a Therapist && My Patient is… by Dr. Harper, read them. Apparently they began on /reddit and after a lot of asking for them in a book, he finally wrote them. I have enjoyed them, but some people say they are stupid. So I guess it just depends on your taste in books. My taste ranges it just depends on how it’s written.

I’m honestly hoping to have my book completely edited by the end of the year, but I realize we are only a few days away from August so the year is almost over – it might not happen this year. But I don’t plan on not being able to finish it, so I will eventually. Maybe one day I’ll look up an Author and it’ll say that it took them ten years to write their first book. Doubt it. But maybe…

I’m keeping faith, though, that if I ever actually finish this one, get it published, that if I choose to write another one that it won’t be this hard or take THIS long. Wow. The ten year thing was a joke until I just counted the years. Dude! November of 2022…. will be ten years. That’s crazy!

I guess if it does take me until next November I can call it the Ten Year Book. It’d go along with calling Boyfriend the Seven Year Dude (Syd).

Good News && Bad News.

I think I am staring to realize why people with diabetes don’t live very long.

I probably shouldn’t say that, especially when words where people can find them forever. Because now, if I pass away everyone is going to think it’s because of the diabetes. It won’t be. I’m trucking along with it. I’m just mad. So, very, mad.

I agreed to start seeing a endocrinologist to fix my issues with my high sugar levels so my other issues with start getting better. So they put me on insulin, which I’ve told y’all before – nothing new there. This last week I had an appointment with them to check up on my progress. I had to tell them that my nu8mbers are still between 250 && 300 every day, every single time I take it. && of course they tell me that they shouldn’t be.

I know this.

So they go through the normal questions: are you taking the insulin like you’re supposed to? Are you snacking between meals? Do you consume a lot of sugar? Are you telling us the complete truth? Then of course, with each question, their look basically says I am lying about it all.

Yes. I take my insulin like they asked me to.
No. I do not snack in between meals. Ask Boyfriend, I’m not lying.
No. I do not eat sugar, whether it’s in drinks, or foods.
Yes, I’m telling the complete truth.

But the looks. You know the looks. If you’re overweight, and you’re asked these questions, you know the looks. I’m pretty sure they asked me if I snack four times, within five minutes, with smaller questions in between.

Let’s break The Barb down. When I was younger && still drinking out of bottles, my mother would put watered down Diet Coke in them. That’s what I grew up drinking, guess what? I still drink diet beverages. My tea, at home, is fake sugar. I don’t eat cakes, or pies, or sugary treats. I don’t eat chips, ice cream, or candy. I barely drink soda, && when I do buy one, I can make a 20 ounce last a week, if not longer. Chips, if I happen to buy a bag, I eat approximately five chips, Boyfriend finishes the bag. I don’t eat bread, even on sandwiches, I tend to just eat the inside of it. Tuna salad sandwich, I make this on weekends when I don’t have much time to cook, && I get a bowl, no bread, and eat it with a spoon.

So here I am. Blood sugar ranging, all the time, between 250 && 300. So I tell Boyfriend, maybe I need to cut more carbs out. I’ve stopped eating pasta as much as I did, bread is out, and I rarely eat potatoes. Which is leaving rice – lately, it’s all I want. So I told him, maybe – I need to stop eating rice for a little while && see if I can get my sugars down. But what happens when I put it back in my diet? I don’t plan to not eat it forever. My blood sugar is going to spike, yet again.

They also preach on my weight. Which is where the looks come in when asking about my “snacking habits”. Yes, I have moments where I have the “munchies” && eat and eat and eat. && sometimes, I ignore then munchies. The last two days my munchies have been horrible. But I have had pig skins, which I’ve munched on. They have no carbs – full of calories, but… one or the other, right?

I’m usually a calorie counter because I know it works for me. Count those, exercise, my weight drops. That’s even not cutting out carbs. Now I’m looking at cutting out carbs so I can’t really count calories? Can I? Wouldn’t that be too much?

I tried the “low carb” diet once. I was so angry through the whole experience that it lasted two weeks before the anger took over and I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. Now you’re wondering, what made me angry? Everyone preaches about how good the low to no carb diet is and that it’s the bomb-diggity. But when you actually Google the carb amount in foods you’ll realize that EVERYTHING has carbs. EVERYTHING! A freaking pickle. I love pickles and they are great to munch on when you’re counting calories. Yes, don’t get me wrong, they only have one carb (((PER PICKLE))), but still!

Fruit. Veggies. Cheese (which is the number one thing people preach you can eat) – all. have. carbs.

Heck, the frozen Atkins meals that you can buy in most grocery stores – have at least 15 carbs in each box. So people tell me to stick with meats. Okay, that’s fine, but guess what? Remember? I have gout. Yeah! It’s like anything && everything that can be wrong with me right now, is wrong.

Today’s numbers weren’t horrible. This morning I took it && it was 199, it’s high, but at least it wasn’t 250. Last night for dinner I had a sandwich, with no bread, pickles && pig skins. This morning I ate a sandwich with no bread, pickles and pig skins. So I stuck with meat – although, the meats I chose aren’t heart healthy. I took my numbers before dinner and it was 159. Had pork chops, sautéed onions, and cauliflower bites (cauliflower covered in cheese, bacon bits, and green onions.) I haven’t retaken the numbers yet, but I’m hoping they aren’t extremely high. But you know.

On good notes: the doctors are saying that my heart && kidney function are getting better. My A1C went from 9.6 to 8.4, but my weight is staying around the same. So I’m not gaining, but I’m not losing. && that’s because of the exercise rut I’m in. I cannot find any motivation to exercise. I don’t know if it’s only because it’s hot outside or because I just don’t want to. Maybe a mix of both? I was told that my magnesium is low so I was told to take a supplement/eat foods high in magnesium && we’ll check that again in October.

Basically, I have two months – August && September – to lose some weight && try to get my A1C even lower. So here is to that.

Ruts. What?

I am in a rut.

Whether it’s a life rut, exercise rut, or diet rut. I’m in the rut. A huge rut that I’m sinking into like quicksand. It’s about up to my waist and I am having the hardest time getting out of it.

I try to talk to Boyfriend about it && try to figure out how to get myself out of it, but I cannot seem to find the words to explain to him how I feel. I usually just end up in tears – yes, still. So, I figured instead of driving myself crazier, maybe I just need to sit down && write.

Ugh! Writing. (((Rut.)))

Reading. (((Rut.)))

Maybe it’s a life rut. I mean, don’t get the wrong idea – I’m not thinking about ending my life. Came too close to that earlier this year. As much as I miss my parents, I’m not quite ready to see them again. Know what I mean?

Sometimes, I’ve noticed, people just get in ruts. It’s usually because a change is needed or maybe just a routine shake up. I’m not sure where to go from that theory, though. The last time I felt like this I was twenty, a few weeks away from my twenty-first birthday. The Brother ended up taking me to Amarillo, Texas to my grandfather to stay with him for a little bit. I ended up spending a lot of time with my aunt && uncle and attending their church. (If they read this, know, that it may have been a small thing, but it helped me so much just getting to know great people and find something I think I was missing. That can be for another post. Unless of course, I’ve already written about it.) But sadly, my grandfather passed away in 2018, so I can’t disappear for a little while. But as an adult, is that even possible anymore? can I just take a vacation from work/life and disappear for four months?

Yeah, probably not. That’s basically just hiding away from problems && once I come back, they’ll still be here. Which wasn’t the issue when I was twenty. I didn’t really have “problems”, I just realized that I hadn’t faced and dealt with everything that happened to me growing up and it hit me in the face. Bricks, if you will. Have I dealt with EVERYTHING that I consider trauma? No, probably won’t really face it head on. Ever.

Part of that is because I wish I had told my mother when she was alive when I was still younger. I think if I had told her what I went through I wouldn’t be questioning whether it happened. && I don’t think I would do that if it wasn’t for people telling me they wouldn’t do that. Although, side note, I have thought about writing letters, with no return address, just to get my feelings out. But… what if it didn’t happen?

My memories are still a blur.

But here I sit in a dark room, alone, listening to a show on Hulu as I listen to myself hit keys forming words. I think I have been needing to do this for a while, but I have been talking myself out of it. A part of me wanted to see if maybe I could do it on my own, without putting anything to words. But as the days pass, my irriation isn’t fading and my lack of… living, isn’t getting better.

Maybe I need a new hobby? No. Stop. I don’t need a new hobby. I don’t even do the “hobbies” I have now. If we consider any of them hobbies. Maybe I need a vacation (not from life) somewhere cold? Head makes me crankier than I usually am. So, I’m cranky times a million right now.

Today it was 104 degrees when we went grocery shopping around noon.

Eh, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Upside, I don’t sleep all the time && I’m not finding myself staring at myself from above myself. (Post for another day.)

Do Dreams Come True?

I wonder how many people actually say their dreams did, in fact, come true. I have a dream. Other than finishing the book that I really need to finish but I’m too lazy to actually do it… I want to own && operate a food truck.

I have two loves in my life. Writing, of course, && cooking, which I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned a few times. I also do believe I said my dream job would be a food writer. Combine the best of both worlds. Travel all over the globe while trying different foods, cooked by different people and just write about it.

But I’m trying not to span too far into the atmosphere. But as I sit here and write this I find myself wondering is wanting to own, run && operate a food truck too far out the scope of reality for me? I get it. It takes money && a lot of it. I can save; I know how to do that. But lets say I did save the money, would I actually ever get to the point where I can do it before I die?

I think that’s half of my issue. A part of me is scared that I won’t see the part of my life where most people do find && achieve their dreams. Sometimes, it takes people into their 40’s & 50’s to actually get it. So I wonder – do I have that long to keep hoping that maybe I can get what I truly desire out of life.

Lately I haven’t felt well. I mean, I don’t feel like I’m knocking at deaths door, I just haven’t felt well. I have been sluggish, and still depressed. Angry, and annoyed. My medicine makes it where I don’t have an appetite so I’m not hungry half of the time. They’ve put me on insulin which I’m pretty sure is half of the depression. I thought I was moving forward, day by day, but I feel sometimes that them putting me on insulin is back tracking. But in reality, I’m pretty sure it’s not.

So that’s me. I’m scared, worried, and freaking out that I don’t have time to do what I want with my life. I want to leave a mark on the world. I want people in the future when I’m no longer here talking about something I achieved. Something I did. Something that makes people remember me. Will it be in the food world, writing world, or both worlds?

Do I think I’m going to write the next literary masterpiece? No, I don’t.
Do I think I’m going to open a food truck that eventually turns into a million dollar business that has restaurants in different countries? No, I do not.
I am realistic.
But at the same time, I don’t feel like I’m achieving anything && I know part of that is because I’m not trying to achieve anything.

I was talking about my food truck dream at work the other night && someone said it’ll never happen while the others either didn’t say anything or said food trucks make bank && if I apply myself I can achieve it. But… where do I apply myself at? I told Boyfriend that I’m working on it && my first step is that I ordered a credit card reader that goes into your phones charging port. It’s something silly and small, but at the same time I feel like I’m heading into the right direction.

What I need is a million people to give me one dollar. That’s it. Spare one dollar for me. If anyone is interested please let me know && I’ll set up the account. In the mean time, I’ll either keep thinking about my dreams, dreaming about my dreams, or trying to crawl out of this round of depression.

Either way, I seem to be doing something, right?

Drifting Off.

Today I sat in a closet && cried while talking to a cat who just had babies.

We call her Momma Bean.

When I got of work today I had so many plans. I was going to come home and play on my new computer. So I did. I walked in, changed, && sat down in front of it. I turned it on && pulled up the internet && stared at the screen. I didn’t know what to do. I locked the computer && wandered into my bedroom pulling out my Switch, thinking maybe a little bit of Animal Crossing would help. Instead I went to the closet, I actually just wanted to check on Mama Bean, && noticed her water bowl was empty so I filled it up. Once I took it back I just sat down in the closet && loved on her for a couple minutes. Then the water works started.

I wish I could say why I cried. I wish I could say why I feel horrible. I wish I had the words inside of me that explained why I feel like I do most of the time – but I don’t. I never have. I have suffered from depression, undiagnosed, since I was 15 && possibly before. It just got worse once I buried my mother. Then I lost my father before I was even 30. Then I buried my grandfather (mom’s dad). That was my people. Those three. They wanted the best for me && before I was 32.

Before fifteen I think I felt a little out of it – lost, but don’t most teenagers feel like that? I’m not saying my life was perfect before my mom died, but I feel like a part of me died with her. I have been lost for so many years that trying to find my way has taken me a lot longer than I want to admit. I can’t remember a time that my mind was solid.

I THINK part of it is these last few months. I literally almost died in January and every time I talk to a doctor about it I always hear the same thing, “I’m surprised you didn’t have a heart attack,” or “I’m surprised you’re not dead.”

Death.

It’s a frightening thought. The thought that at 33 I was a step away from death. I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t want to do it. I still don’t.

I can’t focus my brain right now. I…

…will write again later.

Beat Myself Up!

(Originally wrote 5/21/2021 – finally was able to upload it.)

I have eater’s remorse. It’s kind of like buyer’s remorse (which sometimes I have that also), but instead it’s when I eat something. Food is something that has always given me comfort, whether I was happy/sad/mad/disgusted – I knew I had food and it wouldn’t let me down. The last few years I have been attempting to get over my struggle and fight with food and my bad eating habits, which probably isn’t as bad as a lot of people, for me, it’s bad. But all I’ve noticed is that it has turned even uglier because now when I eat I feel bad for hours afterwards && start trying to think of a way to get rid of it. (No, I don’t make myself puke.)

I told Boyfriend once, && it’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t feel it, that I feel bad after eating. Not “feel bad” like in a sick way, but like, I feel terrible because I ate it. I told him I wanted to be the type of person who can go into a convenience store and buy a corn dog, eat it with some good ol’ mustard, and not hate myself for three hours afterwards. But I can’t.

There is a store here in my town that has the best corn dogs. They are always crispy on the outside and juicy yummy on the inside. I would stop by there sometimes && grab a couple and go home. Then afterwards, I was trying to make sense in my head why I was so mad at myself for eating two corndogs when I barely eat them as it is.

Since all of these doctor appointments my eater’s remorse has gotten worse. Today for lunch at work, I wanted to treat my people so I told them if they wanted something from Taco Casa that I would pay for it. (They work really hard && sometimes you just need to show that you care && appreciate them.) So I took everyone’s orders && my manager went && picked it up. I paid. I decided that I would get something from there, nothing huge, not a lot, just something. I really like their nachos – well, okay, I like their chips && cheese which I add the crumbled meat and just dip my chips in it. It’s not even a large set of nachos.

I sat here && ate it. Got full && stopped, tossing whatever was left. Then I sat here && thought about what I had just eaten. Thinking to myself, ‘why did I eat that? Why didn’t I just eat what I brought?’ (A healthy choice frozen dinner with some veggies.) But now, it’s even worse, because I also ordered a tea because it sounded delicious. I mean, who doesn’t like a good glass of tea? That was also on my mind. I kept thinking I didn’t need to drink that especially since it wasn’t unsweet (which is what I wanted but that’s fine). Why did I eat it? Drink the tea?

Sometimes I feel if I eat certain things that I’m basically saying my life isn’t good enough to keep going && that I am wasting what I do have left. Then I start feeling like crap, this time I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest.

But I don’t feel like this with all food – last night for dinner I made salmon && creamy rice. I didn’t feel bad after eating that. I felt great! I wasn’t overly full && I didn’t feel horrible afterwards.

Before the hospital stay I ate how I wanted knowing that I can lose weight without changing a lot of what I eat. But now, I feel like everything I put in my mouth is a death sentence. Nothing is good, nothing should be consumed, when the logical part of my brain knows that isn’t right.

My relationship with food has always been complicated && now I feel like I should be breaking up with food all together. That it && me just can’t go on like this && I have no idea how to fix my issue.

&& yes, I do have buyer’s remorse. The only two things in my life I do not regret buying was my first car when I was 18 && my house when I was 31ish. Well, I say I don’t have it with the house. I didn’t. Until this year when I found out everything in my is trying to shut down && stop working that in 30 years (the note length) I may not even be here to finish paying for it.

This may not be completely about food && more about possibly not being here for as long as I had planned. I feel like I need to start doing everything that I wanted to in life so I can be remembered as the girl who did it all. I want to finish my book, open a restaurant, help people – be known for something. If I died tomorrow – what would people remember me as? The girl who showed up for work every day that didn’t help anyone anywhere. I don’t want this to define me but I’m in a spot where this is what it is. This is me. This is my life. I will be dead && no one will remember me. I will have left no mark whatsoever on anyone.

I always imagined great things for myself && that by now, I thought I would have already achieved most of it. The ONLY thing I have gotten was a house && found the love of my life.

I know what you’re thinking – if my dream is to finish the book && open a restaurant – then what’s stopping me? The book – I hate reading it to edit it because I hate my writing. Always have (story for another day unless I’ve already wrote about it). I am trying to finish editing the book so I can get the junk out of it that I know exists within the walls of it, but I can’t seem to read enough of it to finish the editing process. I know – I could just let someone read it && edit it for me. Problem! I don’t want anyone to read it right now because of the junk inside of it. I know it can be better than it is && before I offer to let people read it I want to fix it. But to fix it, I have to read it. To read it I have to get over my insecurities that I have about my writing.

Restaurant? I found a building I want. It’s in the perfect location in the town I life in. In fact, it’s on the end of my road – I could walk there. I know with a little tender love && care, a little bit of renovation, that it could be the greatest little restaurant anyone has seen in my town, population of 483 in 2018. Sounds great, right? A little too great, of course. The building is 178,000$ && unfortunately, I do not have 178,000$ to drop on a building that I would need more money to renovate (it wasn’t a restaurant to start with.) Actually, I do believe it started out as a bank then it was turned into the water department, which just recently moved down the street to a building they built just for it. Now it’s empty. It even still has the window when it was a bank that I could turn into a drive thru. Yes! I have given it THAT much thought.

I think I’m rambling now.

The other night I got sick. Wednesday night. After I got done filling my trash can, I laid there alone && wondered if this is a new symptom. Is this something new telling me that I’m slowly deteriorating and that soon there will be no more of me? It’s a scary thought when you’re only 33 years old that tomorrow my heart could just stop working. I mean, it’s barely working as it is.

I am pretty sure my depression is sparked back up && last time it nearly drove me crazy. But last time I didn’t have Boyfriend. I have him now. Hopefully he has enough mental stamina for the both of us. But even in that sense, that’s a lot of worry to put on a man that could still decide to leave.

I think what bothers me is that I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel like…. I should feel… for someone that has heart && kidney issues. I feel like… I should feel worse. Don’t get me wrong, I do have my days. But on those days do I feel bad because of my heart && kidneys or do I just feel bad? Like Wednesday – people puke. People eat stuff that doesn’t agree with their stomach && the puke. Maybe I just got sick. Boyfriend said he didn’t feel good either. He can’t get sick because of MY heart && kidney issues.

I’m trying..

I bought a jump rope.

It’s something small and insignificant. But I did. I bought a jump rope approximately 3 weeks ago. I was excited. When I was younger, I enjoyed jumping rope – I didn’t very often because one: I didn’t have one at home, two: because when I would at school people would make ::fat:: jokes. You know the ones: screaming earthquake when I landed, or stating when I jumped my fat moved.

So I just eventually stopped jumping rope.

I’ve been trying to find small things I can purchase that can help me lose weight && remembering how much I enjoyed jumping rope, I figured, why not? So I found one on Amazon && bought it. A couple days pass && I receive it in the mail. I’m excited! I open it && Boyfriend && I start messing with it.

I got it on a Thursday evening.

By Saturday morning it was as if my body saw the jump rope && thought ‘nope, not this time’. Because I woke up that morning with a pain in my left food so bad I wanted to cry. I’m talking worse than gallstones && kidney stones. When I first stood up I nearly fell, having to grab the bed for stability. I was unable to wear my work shoes && instead having to wear the shoes I use for walking – which isn’t in dress code. (We are supposed to wear black where my exercise shoes are grey).

I figured the pain would stop, because it eventually has to, right? That weekend at work was horrible. I could barely walk, couldn’t keep my shoe on and I wanted to cry. Saturday night into Sunday morning I cried. All night – until I eventually fell asleep. It hurt so bad I couldn’t get comfortable, no matter how I laid my foot it hurt. The fan blowing across it hurt.

I figured it was gout – nothing else made sense.

Everything said untreated gout systems last about 14 days. Okay – that’s wonderful in a nonwonderful way. I wait 14 days. My foot, big toe to be exact, still hurt. I make a doctors appointment telling her my thoughts and where, why, what hurt. She does blood work && x-ray’s – coming to the conclusion that she doesn’t think it’s gout. She said my acid levels aren’t high enough and there’s nothing on the x-ray. Okay, that’s fine – so what’s wrong with my foot?

She is on the case of an infection in my toe. She gave me antibiotics and I took them saying that she wanted to see me after I finished. The pain hadn’t stopped, so she done another blood test && x-ray’s. This time around she saw the ‘infection’ in my toe, my acids still weren’t high enough && my white blood cells were still high. I’m on my second round of antibiotics and my foot still hurts.

I am on day 18.

I’m frustrated beyond anything I thought could be possible. I have been trying to lose some weight by walking daily and since my foot has started I haven’t been able to. If I walk on my foot too long or wear a shoe, by the end of the night, I’m in so much pain that I just want to cry.

The only upside for all of this – I haven’t put on a lot of weight. I lost some and only put back on 4 pounds of what I took off. I’m staying steady. So it’s basically saying that I don’t eat horribly, but at the same time, I don’t eat too well. But I’m glad I haven’t put on too much weight since the foot started hurting.

I still remember…

I can still remember my first panic attack.

I was nineteen and was in the shower. My mind started wandering and I started thinking about events that may or may not happen. It was slow at first. My body started to tingle && then I started having trouble breathing. Even though I was in a cool shower, I got hot – began sweating. That’s when I freaked out && started crying.

I didn’t know what was happening because I had never experienced anything like this before. I lived with depression for many years but this… this was something different. Something I couldn’t explain && I quickly hopped out of the shower and went looking for people. Anyone.

At the time I lived with my brother & his girlfriend. They were home && I knew it, but they were in their room with the door shut. At that point, I normally don’t bother them. I wandered through the house for a few minutes && being as confused as I was I did the only thing I knew. I grabbed a banana and went to my brothers door.

Why did I grab a banana? Because food comforts me. Always has. (Which is what has gotten me into the position I am today.) I stood at his bedroom door saying his name over & over but their television was on && my brother is basically deaf in one ear. No one heard me. The crying got worse – I couldn’t see anymore.

I collapsed in the floor. Alone. I ate the banana.

I sat in the floor for a few minutes before my brother came out of his bedroom. His girlfriend at the time said she thought she had heard something so he went to figure out what it was. All he found was his sister, a complete mess, sitting in the floor in front of his bedroom door.

I ended up sleeping on the floor of his room that night. My Brother is always coming to the rescue when I’m needing someone. Every time I seem to be having a moment, whether it’s something serious or something that I’m making into a mountain – he’s there. He is the one person I know I can count on. But now – I know I have him && the Boyfriend.

My panic attacks still come && go. Not as often as they used to. I think that is mostly because of Boyfriend. He may not realize just how much he is helping my mental health, but he does. Knowing he is there, and won’t laugh at me when I’m having my moments, and knows exactly what to do.

Before him && I started dating I told him I’m complicated. I don’t mean to be, but sometimes my mind takes over and I start thinking && it ruins a lot of stuff. A lot of guys would consider me “crazy” but I’m not. Most girls that are considered crazy aren’t, just like most guys who are considered a loser really aren’t. I told him sometimes I just need someone to be there. Hold my hand. Let me cry. Boyfriend does that && has since we started dating.

I had a panic attack a few nights ago. The first thing I did was find Boyfriend && tell him what was going on. It’s taken me years to finally realize that when I’m having panic attacks I need to talk about it. If I don’t, it’s not going to get any better. I know it’s not that easy for a lot of people who suffer from them, but for me, I have to talk about it. I have to talk through it. The only times I can’t is when I’m alone && those are the ones that scare me the most. The other night once I found him I told him what was happening && he talked me down, for the most part.

It always starts slow, every time. It’s like my mind is trying to calm itself before it completely takes over. My skin tingles, like someone is poking me over && over with something sharp. I’ll rub my arms, trying to get the tingling to stop. Then I get hot. Like sitting in a sauna hot. Once I start getting hot I know there isn’t much turning back && I’m about to go head first into a panic attack. That’s when I start looking for someone so I can talk my way out of it.

It doesn’t always work. But usually does.

The other night it helped. Before dinner I had taken my blood sugar and it was 114. Then I made dinner, ate, and an hour-ish later it was at 113. I’m like, what? So I take it again thinking maybe it wasn’t enough blood. This time it was 95, Panic attack ensued. But after thinking about it I realized that I didn’t eat anything starchy, no bread – it was salmon with spaghetti squash && green beans. So of course my blood sugar isn’t going to go very high. It was a healthy dinner, but did my brain understand that?

No.

Hello Again…

A few weeks ago I was sitting in my bedroom thinking about writing when I began thinking about my blog. I pulled it up on my phone through the app and I was looking when I last posted. To my surprise, I realized I hadn’t wrote anything since December 2019. Yes! Seriously! I didn’t write a single post in 2020.

How did I go a complete year without writing anything?

I also realized, not only did I not write a post in this, but I didn’t write anything. Barely read anything && I barely found myself cooking. My three loves! Tossed to the side like a red-headed step-child. Today, while I was doing my taxes, I pulled this back up (on my laptop, this time) && decided I needed to write something. Even if it’s nothing special. About nothing. Just anything. I needed to stop by && say hello && make sure everyone knows that I am still alive.

2020 was a rough year for everyone but for me it seems 2021 is going to be the worse year of my life. Well, maybe not the whole year – I still have time for it to get better. But February of 2021, that month – that’s the one I’ll probably remember the rest of my life – what of I will have left, anyway. Okay, I shouldn’t talk like that. I should be optimistic and be happy – but right now, I’m scared && scared.

I have been ditching the doctor, not because I don’t want to go, or didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I just didn’t want to deal with it. Well, the last few weeks of January, and the early weeks of February, I just wasn’t feeling well. I chalked it up to having bronchitis, because I get it around this time of the year. But with bronchitis, I usually have a cough which I didn’t this time. I waited three weeks before I broke down && went to the doctor. Symptoms? Trouble breathing, dizzy, unable to sleep, but exhausted all the time, a feeling – when I walked – that someone was airing up my head and chest with air – then add puking, swollen legs, and just an utter feeling of crap. That was me for three weeks.

The day I finally made the doctor is the day I think it hit me that something was wrong. It was around 8 in the morning, I was trying to sleep, but I was woke up by the fact I couldn’t breathe. I got up and struggled to the restroom – when I say I struggled, I mean it. My restroom is connected to my bedroom && my bed is probably, maybe, fifty feet from the toilet. I got up from bed, walked a few steps && had to stop, because I couldn’t breathe. When I finally made it to the toilet I sat and had to breathe – I felt like a 75 year old smoker with COPD && not using their oxygen. I sat there and breathed but even sitting I was having trouble catching my breath.

I was scared. I didn’t know what was wrong but I KNEW something wasn’t right. I called the doctor && made an appointment. They said they could get me in that day around 11 in the morning && I said that was good and I would be there. Boyfriend && I drove up to the clinic – && with COViD so bad, he wasn’t able to go back into the room with me. So now I’m alone – scared, worried…. alone.

They did blood work, a COViD test (which at this point in time I had already taken this test three times at work, all with negative results), x-rays, and even gave me an IV with fluids. First they informed me that my blood sugar is over 450 which even people without diabetes knows that is bad. That’s followed by them telling me my blood pressure is at stroke level (which is what the IV of fluids is for). They go out and leave me a lone for alone for a bit, discussing what’s next. When the doctor finally came back in (which, by the way, I went to high school with this doctor && I still feel like we are too young to be doctors) && said that may have to put me in the hospital. She wanted to do one more blood test, && if it comes back the way she was thinking, I will be hospitalized.

I am in ketoacidosis.

The drive to Denton, Texas seemed extremely long (it’s only 45 minutes) when you’re being told that you have fluid around your heart and your staring down the barrel nothing but bad news. That’s all it was. Bad news after bad news. The only thing the doctor kept saying is “this isn’t a death sentence”. But in my panic attack world, it was. It was her telling me that I messed up and now I’m paying.

The truth is, seven years ago I started seeing a doctor when I was just not feeling well. I didn’t feel “bad”, but I off. Like something was wrong, but I couldn’t pin point it. He diagnosed me with high blood pressure, and “on-set” diabetes. He never, through the years, ever just bluntly said I have diabetes. He gave me medication for both which I took daily just like I was supposed to. As the years passed, however, I eventually stopped. Not because I didn’t think I needed it, but because at one point my medicine changed per the pharmacy and afterwards, it made me sick. I’m talking SICK-SICK – puking, not feeling well, not being able to do daily things && always sleeping. I eventually just stopped taking the medicine because I felt better without it. Yes, seriously, I felt better with stroke level blood pressure and blood sugar in the 400’s than taking the medicine. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth.

Once in Denton (I live in a small Oklahoma town, the doctor said that she didn’t want me in this hospital because Denton can give me better treatment and that I would do better there) we enter through the emergency room, I can’t breathe so I can’t talk and I’m trying to explain what’s going on. I’m standing there along holding an envelope with my records in it, and I can’t breathe/talk. Everyone is confused but I’m able to get enough out for them to understand what I’m needing. They go through the paperwork in the envelope and get me into a triage room. They start doing the same tests again, && I would like to point out that once again I’m tested for COViD && it’s negative. (I am tired of people raping my nose.)

I’m finally left alone in the little triage room with my thoughts, which is never a good thing. It’s how I sink into panic attacks && I had already had multiple before this. I start crying. At this point, I’m just wanting Boyfriend but he cannot come in. (Stupid COViD.) All I’m left with it my phone, which Boyfriend was sitting in the car, texting me. But I wanted him. This is making the tears && panic attack worse.

My panic attacks are usually mind controlled. I don’t know, other people’s might be too, but mine are caused my horrible thoughts. When I sink into a panic attack, I can usually be calmed down by conversations with people who I am close with. Mainly the Boyfriend && the Brother. The two of them can fix my mind by making jokes, or just changing the subject. They’ll talk me through it && I sat in the triage room alone and neither of them there to calm my nerves.

After about thirty minutes I finally tell the boyfriend to go home, that he can come back later after I am given a room – so he dropped off a bag and went home. Once I stopped the blubbering I find the remote and start flipping through the channels – I’m trying everything to calm myself. I needed to look into the future and realize that whatever they say I am going to be able to fight through it and come out better on the other side. (I know this now, then? Not so much.)

I stayed in the hospital for a week, not a long time. But in that time they took CTS scans, pictures of my heart, kidneys, bladder. I watched a lot of Friends, the Golden Girls, Diners, Drive In’s & Dives && Spongebob. In the end, after all of the tests, I’m told that I have kidney damage, && my heart beats way too slow which of course they call heart failure. Basically, my heart is supposed to beat between 50 & 75 per minute, mine – beats around 35. They readjust my medicine && give me a pill to assist my heart in beating.

I have been calling my heart sad. Which, if it’s possible for a heart to be sad, I could see mine being sad. Through everything I’ve faced in my life, I could see my heart feeling a little blue. So much death – sadness – uncontrollable things.

Basically, it’s been rough the last few weeks. A lot of changes && I can honestly say the hardest one is probably the liquid restriction I’m on. The heart doctor wants me to drink 1.5 liters or less a day. This is fine for some, but when I was drinking up to 7 gallons a day, it’s hard. Plus, I legitimately LOVE the taste of water. But the reason they want me to drink less is because my heart doesn’t beat properly && it’s not pumping the fluid out. && yes, you did read that right. I was drinking nearly seven gallons of water a day. && yes, I realize that is a lot of water. I didn’t realize I was drinking that much, but as I think about it I can see it. Why was I drinking that much? Every time I went to the doctor I was always told that I’m dehydrated && need to drink more water. I usually told them “if I drink anymore water, I’m going to drown myself”. At the time, I was always kidding, but I always added more water. I didn’t think much about it.

I basically – almost – drown myself.

I feel, right now, this may be enough words. I feel like I have been rambling on & on, && this post has goten a little big. So if you’ve made it this far, congrats && thank you. I feel like this blog will be good to keep my thoughts from straying and staying on point. When I was released from the hospital we made three goals:

Lose weight.
Get my diabetes under control.
Everything else.