What are you thankful for?

What was your first thought getting out of bed this morning?  Was it something like "Ugh, time to get the kids ready for school." or was it something like "Awesome!  I woke up to another day!  Let's see what fun it brings?"

After a conversation with my mom last night, I got to wondering how many of us wallow in the mundane or bad things in our life.  I know I used to only see the bad.  When you have as many medical issues as I do, with more coming up every day, sometimes it can be hard to see past the pain, discomfort, and disability.  Every day I would wake up thinking how much it sucked that I had to go to work that day, or how horrible my body ached from my RA.  Before my husband, I might think how much I wanted and deserved to have a good guy laying in bed next to me every morning.  Waking up alone sucked.  And when the bipolar gripped me in a major depression, I would curse that fact that I even woke up at all.

But then a few wonderful things happened to me.  I met my husband.  He lit up my world.  The problems didn't go away, in fact some of them got worse, but he always made me laugh no matter how bad I hurt (mentally and physically).  The negative mornings became fewer, but even then I still had days where I would wake up looking at only the bad things, though it happened less often. 

Then another person came into my life.  Or rather, became a part of my life since I had already been working with her for several years.  We became close friends when her husband ended up in ICU and was in the hospital for months.  She changed my perspective as I watched her always have hope while her husband teetered on the edge of life and death.  No matter how scared or frightened she was, she always had hope.  And then there was the joy and love when he finally got to go home.  Going through that experience with her, being there for her and with her, changed me.  It taught me to value life more.  It taught me to value every day, every moment I have on this earth because it could all come to an end unexpectedly. 

Now when I wake up in the morning, it is rarely with disappointment or a negative thought.  I am by no means perfect and do still have my cranky mornings, but they are now few and far between and usually only when severe physical pain is involved. 

This morning my first thought as I felt my arm throbbing in pain was "I am so lucky that I have a husband and roommate that are supporting me through this painful time."  They help me accomplish the daily tasks and chores that need to be done and they make me laugh.  This morning, I was truly grateful to be alive.

So tell me, what are you thankful for today?


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If only I could make my kitchen into a bedroom.

So a friend of mine sent me an interesting YouTube video the other day.  It is about an apartment in Hong Kong.





Really, the concept is pretty cool.  I mean, who really wants to have a large, sprawling house when you can turn your kitchen into a bedroom with a simple slide of a wall.  Certainly not any U.S. American I know.  *snickers* But what is really interesting to me is the storage possibilities.  Can you imagine how many bodies zombies you could fit into a closet behind one of those panels? 


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Learning to Accept Help

In November, I was just starting to get into the blog-o-shere.  I stepped into the shallow end of the pool by reading just one blog, who still remains my favorite, The Bloggess.  I know I talk about her all the time, but I immediately fell in love because she shared my sarcastic, witty, and sometimes demented sense of humor.  It wasn't long before she had me reading all her blogs, including her advice column and satirical sex blog.  Every now and then, my beloved Jenny posts something serious though, and that is how I was introduced to a beautiful family who had gone through so much misfortune, the Mayhews. 

She may not know it, but Anissa and her husband, Peter, have somewhat become idols for me.  For me, it started on their Hope For Peyton blog that turned into a quasi "Hope for Anissa" blog when she had two massive strokes in November.  Jenny had posted the event on her blog and I have been following the Mayhews ever since.  Their strength and love as a family gripped me, and though I never comment much, I love hearing their story because it gives me hope when I am in the pits of mine.  It is because of Peter that I decided to start my own blog.  He needed somewhere he could put his thoughts down and reach out to people as he waited for news on Anissa.  I needed a place to put my thoughts down as I wait for bouts of depression, anxiety, and rheumatoid arthritis to pass.  His words inspired me in the beginning, and now his wife inspires me today. 

As I sit here, unable to use my right arm due to extreme pain from RA and feeling useless and handicapped, I pull up Anissa's Blog and I think, if this amazing woman can come back from two major strokes that should have killed her (according to doctors), and still get up every day for the last 4 months to take care of her three beautiful kids and keep pushing every day to get better, then who the hell am I to sit here and feel sorry for myself because I have been down and non-functional for a whole 3 freaking days. 

But this is the worst flareup I have ever had and I thought I knew some of Anissa's frustration from my past health issues.  Not exactly, but I thought I could understand some of it.  Boy was I wrong.  The pain of the last 3 days have brought on a whole new meaning for me of handicapped and useless.  As I have had to ask my husband to open the milk for me, refill my water bottle, wash my hair, or turn a doorknob because I couldn't grasp it, a new meaning formed.  As I lost use of my right arm because any movement at all, even typing, cause too much pain, a new meaning formed.  As I spend hours typing with one hand, and then lay completely still in bed watching reruns because it's the only thing I can do where I am semi-comfortable, a new meaning formed.  As I burst into tears because I was stupid enough to try reaching behind me to unclasp my own bra, a new meaning formed.  And with this new, deeper meaning of what it is feel handicapped and useless, I bet I still don't even scratch the surface of what so many others go through.

So I will stop feeling sorry for myself, but I will accept my limitations right now.  I can never heal if I don't give my body the break it wants/needs.  I will ask for help unclasping my bra, turning on the shower, washing my hair, and making breakfast.  I will ask for help picking up the laptop so I can write my next blog one-handed or surf Facebook.  But what I most recently learned from Anissa, I will ask for comfort when the reality of the situation overwhelms me and I feel like my world is crashing down.  I will reach out to my friends and family and ask for that gentle hug and "poor baby" to get me through the next minute, hour, or day.  Because sometimes, comfort is the most important help you need.



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Evil Has Wings...and a Black, Shiny Shell

So every night, just before bed, I take the dogs out to do their business.  Usually this ends up being somewhere between 11pm and midnight.  Well last night, I had the dickens scared out of me, not that I know what "dickens" are.  As we walk down the stairs from the third floor, I see this huge black spot on the wall of the second floor walkway.  Sara, one of the dogs, saw it too and naturally wanted to try to eat it or play with it.  Upon slightly closer inspection, I saw it was this freaking ginormous bug!  Fearing it might carry my dog away into the night with its hunormous wings, we quickly walked away from it to the dog park for them to do their business.

After we got back inside, I quickly grabbed my camera, hoping the monster was still there so I could capture its soul.  Now mind you, I lived in Texas for 5 years, so you would think I was used to huge bugs.  I have seen cicadas that are the size of a golf ball, ants the size of my big toe, and crickets the size of my thumb, but never in my life had I seen a bug this large or this black.

Oh.  My.  GOD!  It's huge, it's jet black, it looks like it has this massive armored shell, and I sure as hell bet it can fly.  Oh Lord please don't let it fly in my face as I try to take this picture.  Or this picture:

But then I got to thinking that these pictures won't do it justice as to how big this thing is.  Oh Lord, please don't let this thing bite my hand off even though it is like a mile away from the bug:

This thing is seriously half the size of my hand, if not more.  It could probably eat my thumb in one bite.  This is freaking unnatural.  And then my husband, who followed me out to look at it, was so kind to tell me that this thing would crawl in our window if we left it open at night.  What. The. Hell.

And if that does happen, it will be my husband who gets sacrificed to the evil, demon beetle from hell.  After all, he is the one who ensured I had nightmares about it last night.

P.S.  If you want to know what kind of bug it is, after much Google searching and photo comparison, I have decided it is a Paloverde Root Borer.  Apparently they are very common here in Tucson as the monsoons approach.  And here you will see someone in the third picture who is crazy enough to actually hold this creepy ass thing.


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Battle With the Sandman. Ouch. I Lost....Again.

So the last couple of weeks I have been fighting insomnia.  I am told it is something that often accompanies bipolar disorder.  It is a fact of my life.  It comes and goes.  Right now, it has returned for a visit and is showing no signs of returning from whence it came.  At first, it was just a matter of pride as I lay there thinking "I refuse to get up because I am not asleep yet.  I don't care if I have been laying here for three hours.  I. Will. Not. Get. Up."  And so I would lay there in bed, staring at the wall or the back of my eyelids, trying to make my mind go blank so I can bore myself to sleep until finally, somewhere around 5 or 6 am, I dose off, only to be woken a couple hours later by my husband's alarm clock saying it's 8am. 

"That's ok," I think.  "I can sleep in a little."  After all, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right?  Yea.  Right.  Just when I start to dose off again (8:45-ish), my husband comes in and kisses me goodbye because he knows I freak out if I don't know when he is leaving.  I am now awake again and have to start this process all over.  At some point I dose off...again...and I sleep 'til around 10 when I wake up because the dog scratched herself and made her tags jingle.  I feel a little guilty because it already starts to feel like I am sleeping too late, but I talk myself into trying to go back to sleep because, again, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right? 

Usually by this point I am exhausted so I fall asleep again almost immediately.  I wake up again around 11:30 or 11:45, and now I panic.  Holy crap.  I can't believe I let myself sleep half the day away!  What was I thinking?!  I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO!!!  And this is the point where I attempt to "spring" out of bed but it really ends up being this awkward stumbling in an attempt to get my legs functioning while not stepping on the dog and everything is a little fuzzy and hazy because I only got maybe 3 hours of truly restful, rejuvenating sleep. I then spend the rest of the day vaguely attempting to complete the tasks that seem so numerous, yet I usually only manage to get one, maaaaaaaybe two done.

Rinse, repeat.

Before you say anything about going to the doctor for help, yes, I have a prescription sleep aid that actually works really, really well.  The problem is that at some point this process went from pride to stubbornness.  As you may or may not know, my husband and I are trying to get pregnant.  We have been trying for quite some time actually.  In this process, I have either cut back or cut out any medication I can possible live without, without causing too much discomfort, ok, pain, in my life.  This includes the sleep aid.  So when I went from pride to stubbornness, my mind thinks, "Screw you insomnia!  I will not have you screw up my future child just because you don't feel like letting me sleep.  SCREW. YOU!"  But you see, insomnia doesn't have feeeeeelings.  It doesn't care when you yell at it.  It is relentless.  It is this mindless, feelingless thing that doesn't care what you say or do.  If conditions are not just right, forget it.  You aren't sleeping. 

Well finally the sleepless nights built on each other for so long that I finally broke down and took the damn sleep aid.  OH. MY. GOD.  I slept so well that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.  The next day, that "spring" out of bed, really was a spring and I had the most productive day in a couple weeks.  But then the night came again.  I decided one more night of sleep aid can't be too horrible, so I popped another and once again, slept like a baby. 

Now it has been 3 nights of sleep aid and the figurative voice in my head is starting to get to me.  I know tonight is going to be another sleepless night.  I can feel it.  I should probably take another pill since these bouts usually last 2 or 3 weeks for me.  Yet, the voice keeps chastising me.  How could you put your possibly future child at risk like this?  Then the other side argues back how a mother who is not healthy or rested is no good to her child anyway.  Then the voice again - but what about side effects it could have on the child?  Then the other side - you have been told this sleep aid doesn't have huge risks like others.  Yes, there are risks, but not like really, really, bad and highly likely ones. 

And so the argument continues, but I know what side will ultimately win.  I will go to bed in hopes that the sandman will be kind to me tonight but knowing he will not.  I will lay in bed awake while my husband sleeps peacefully next to me.  Finally, 2 or 3 will roll around and I will give in and take a pill because I have appointments I have to actually be functional for.  But tomorrow night, I will deny myself the help simply because I will not have any appointments  and after all, I don't work so I don't have anything to do, right? 

Yea. 

Right.

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"My diaper is full"

So the hubby and I are watching TV last night, live TV, which is unusual for us because I hate, hate, HATE watching commercials.  Why do I had commercials?  Become you inevitably come across ones like this that make you think...WHAT.  THE.  HELL?



Like....wow...."I poo in blue."  I feel sorry for the guy who had to read those lines.  But just in case you think they are totally cool and frequently let your child run around without pants, here is the official webpage for more information on these "limited edition" diapers.  Enjoy...I think...


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When Life Gives You Oranges...

...then life is pretty darn sweet right now cause you can make lots of orange juice!  Ok, cheesy, but whatever.

So I have been scarce in posting lately but the words just have not been coming to me.  I started school a couple weeks ago so by the time I finish homework, I want to spend time with the hubby and animals.  By the time I finish spending time with the hubby and animals, my brain is fried and cannot come up with comprehensible sentences.

Lucky for me though, I don't have to have comprehensible sentences in order to see that life is pretty freaking good for me right now.  In the last month or so, I have managed to make it back to Cali to visit all my sorely missed friends and family, finished getting myself established with new doctors here in Arizona, moved from a 1 bedroom to a 2 bedroom, and finally started school.  We had one little setback when the cat decided to go on a hunger strike, but she is over it now and eating like a champ.  My hubby is still in love with his job and getting some nice perks we didn't know about and we are well on our way to saving up a down payment for a house.  All in all, I had to find my shades cause life is looking pretty bright. 

The only thing that could possibly make life any better right this second, is if I could figure out how to juice these damn oranges without a juicer.

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