Posts filed under 'Just Life'
It shouldn’t, but it always seems to take me by surprise just how exhausting these pilgrimages to Glasgow are. I think because, no the surface, it looks like a grand holiday, I never seem to adequately prepare myself for the toll it takes both emotionally and physically. It is, frankly, not a relaxing endeavor; in fact, it’s anything but. Which is not to say that it isn’t enjoyable, as it is, but it’s also extremely difficult.
The travel alone is, of course, taxing for someone with fibromyalgia. The discomfort of sitting in planes for hours, sleeping in strange beds with wonky pillows is very disruptive. But I don’t seem to feel that as much until I get home, perhaps some delayed survivalist tactic my body performs subconsciously, so that I can function while I’m there. What I feel most is the overwhelming grip of emotion and nostalgia that tightens around me before we even leave the states and squeezes relentlessly until long after our return.
Every time I return to Scotland it is a strange set of contradictions for me. I am, in one way, returning home, to a place I left when I was ten, a place I didn’t choose to leave but was whisked away from as my father’s career took him to the states. There is an unbelievable amount of emotion, mostly in the form of an intense melancholy that kicks in as soon as our plane descends through the clouds and the green fields of Scotland appear below the wings, fields dotted with sheep and cattle. I’ve never been able to put my finger on why, exactly, but I feel overwhelmed by a dull aching, an inexplicable sadness that bubbles up and sort of simmers below the surface the whole time I’m there.
Unquestionably, that feeling has intensified for me since my mother’s death nearly five years ago. How can a child possibly go home, to a place where nearly every memory, every person, every street, is tied so deeply to the past in general and her mother in particular? How can I walk those same streets, pass our old flat, our old playground, visit my grandmother and my uncle (on my mother’s side) without that constant reminder of loss? And beyond that, even is another sense of loss — of this other life that I might have lived, of a connection to my childhood.
There is the strange dichotomy of feeling as though I am coming home yet, at the same time, to a place I no longer fit in or belong. It feels a bit like being a pretender, a party crasher into the past. Whatever it is, it is always — that is to say, that the entire time I’m in Glasgow, I am feeling things with full, relentless force. It is difficult and it is exhausting. It is wonderful to sit in my Gran’s flat — the same one I came to on lunch hours from our primary school just a half block away, almost completely unchanged over the years — and talk about memories, but it also means constant awareness of the loss of my mother, a fresh wave of grief that is tough to escape from, unlike when distracted by the tasks of my everyday life back home.
On this trip, I also attended the wedding of my oldest friend, Deborah, and again the conflict of emotions presented itself. On the one hand, it was good and nostalgic to see her get married and hard to believe that this was the person I’d met first when we were four, when we lived in flats whose back greens sat just across the alley from one another. But it also highlighted the fact that, although we’re still in touch, we aren’t in touch very often and we don’t know each other that well anymore. Another thing from the past that is both strong and present yet somehow distant and tenuous at the same time.
And on this trip we met a few Europeans who didn’t make any attempt to hide their contempt for the US. Again, a conflict: while I certainly understand the negative view the world has on our nation, and agree with many of their concerns, I wasn’t clear why criticizing the country I live in was appropriate opening small talk. It seems European contempt for our country’s international actions supercedes a sense of hospitality (at least) and manners (at best), as well as the realization that we individual Americans are not the actions of our government. (I may blog more later about how deeply over-simplified the European understanding of US politics seems to be, but it might just upset me again to revisit it right now.) It both angered and saddened me at a time when I was already feeling extremely vulnerable, a bit out of place.
But that wasn’t the balance of my experience in Glasgow. These trips are both good and important in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure I’ll get around to posting more photos and more specifics about the trip, a few tales of our time in the motherland. However, for now, I am just feeling sore and tired and a bit overwhelmed by the experience. And glad to be back in my home, in my own life, which distractions and routine and one thing I don’t feel in Scotland: ease.
May 7th, 2008
Normally I’m chomping at the bit for a little travel, but our next trip to Scotland is creeping upon us quickly — we leave April 30 — and I’m finding myself a tad exhausted at the thought. It’s no reflection on the trip itself or the people we’ll see; after all, we’ll be celebrating my oldest friend’s wedding and my grandma’s 90th birthday in a short five-day visit.
But if I’m to be honest, I’m just feeling exhausted in general right now. I’ve written quite extensively — and, likely, boring-ly, for some of my readers — about the shift I’ve made in my fibromyalgia meds in the past few months, in the hopes of diminishing my pain. I did not realize when I undertook said shift that it would have such a profound impact on my life for a number of months and beyond. I think I foolishly thought that it would be a quick shift and I’d be off to the races and feeling like a normal, pain-free person.
I’ve been on neurontin now for about six weeks now and, yes, my pain has been lessened. Unfortunately, so has my energy — which, as those who know me, will attest — is not naturally high. I’m tired all the time right now. Not low-level tired, which is pesky but ignore-able. But a pervasive and overwhelming exhaustion that makes even the basic tasks difficult and somehow far larger than they actually are. I am left wondering if this is the long-term trade-off and, if so, what would a sane person choose? Energy with pain? Or less pain and exhaustion? Both have a tremendous impact on quality of life and I’m struggling with what may be the right answer. (It occurs to me that I’m dangerously close to stomping my feet here and crying, “It isn’t fair!”)
On top of it all, I’m gaining quite a bit of weight which I suspect has something to do with the new meds, especially considering the fact that I’ve been following a pretty sensible eating plan. Seven pounds in six weeks. (I haven’t had the energy to exercise very much lately, plus a knee injury that frustrates my meager efforts, but I don’t think that’s entirely to blame.) Yikes. It’s a tough side effect for someone who struggles constantly to eat well and try to keep the scale moving in the other direction. Just feels like it’s stacked against me right now and maybe I just need to focus on trying to accept, accept, accept. Blech.
And that concludes our highly whiny, self-pitying, mostly uninteresting post for the day. Sorry. It’s what I got right now, folks.
April 22nd, 2008
Yeah, I know. It’s not the best time to be putting a house on the market. Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that the house we’ve been hanging onto in St. Louis needs to go. Don’t get me wrong; we’ve had a good run of it. There are no hard feelings. It’s just that our current renters are moving out May 1 and I don’t want to do the long distance landlord thing anymore. Long distance is just too hard. You feel me?
So we’re putting our little blue house o’ love up for sale and I am, of course, a tad worried. Every time I read the news there’s another horror story about the housing market. I’m worried about months of paying rent here and mortgage there while we wait for someone to snap up our little home. Fortunately, our realtor tells us that houses in certain areas of the St. Louis market — including Maplewood, where our house is — are still moving. If it’s cute and clean (which he says ours is) and priced right, which we hope it will be, it should still sell. Gulp.
We still have some work to do on it before it can go up and we’re currently debating whether to update the kitchen before selling — in the hopes of getting a little more for it — or selling as-is at a lower price. As you can tell from the pic above, it’s pretty old. The cabinets were pretty shabby when I bought the house and there’s no dishwasher, which can be a dealbreaker for some. I probably need to stop watching HGTV shows that bellow “the kitchen sells the home!” Part of me wants to renovate but the thought of trying to coordinate it from here or having to camp out in the empty house for weeks in St. Louis — and disrupt my life here to do so — sounds like a huge headache.
And while I’m eager to sell the house and let it move on to its next relationship, I’m also a bit sad about it. I bought the house myself when I was a mere 27 years old and it was the biggest, most grown up thing I’d ever done at that point in my life. I made a lot of changes to the inside — new floors, painted walls, details here and there… I really loved living in it. It’s no doubt a starter home, but it’s a sweet little one.
Once we sell it, we’ll be able to start thinking about buying a house here. Well, let me rephrase that, since I’ve been thinking about buying a house here for two years. It’s true that we’ve seen housing prices here drop drastically in our time in Ann Arbor, but they’re still far above what we’d pay for comparable dwellings in St. Louis. Although my HGTV watching does remind me that St. Louis is a low-housing-oasis and that houses in the rest of the country go for ridiculous amounts. We’ve been spoiled and lucky and it’s hard to adjust to this market.
We need something bigger than our little house in St. Louis, since Chris and I now both work from home and each need an office. And recent visits from friends and family have me convinced that we definitely need more than one bathroom. But that means we’ll be paying around twice what we think we can sell our St. Louis house for. Yikes. It all gives me such a headache.
And we’re not there yet, so I should probably just keep breathing for a while. I have faith that the house will find a buyer and that we will find the right house here when the time is right. But I figure it doesn’t hurt to get things moving, so if you know anyone looking for a house in delightful Maplewood, why, I might have just the thing!
April 14th, 2008
Haven’t blogged much lately because, believe it or not, I haven’t had much to say. I’m still struggling with the switch in medications and while my newest fibromyalgia meds are alleviating some of my pain, they also leave me exhausted much of the time. It doesn’t leave much time, energy or (to be honest) inclination to blog. Nor does it make for an exciting life filled with inspiration for blogging. You get the picture.
I always hesitate, in fact, to write too much about my fibromyalgia and pain too much. I’m terribly self-conscious about and afraid of boring people. In my house, being sick could be seen as weakness or even a ploy for attention, so I have trouble letting go of all of that. I worry that I’m being overly-dramatic or I question myself about my motives: am I just trying to get attention, etc. In fact, I’ve gotten so good at acting like I’m fine that it would actually surprise most people who know me to learn that I’m in pain all day, every day, at varying levels.
I don’t want to court pity, but it’s difficult to talk — or, in this case, write — about my life without bringing it up. So there you have it. It’s where I am. Right now, it’s making working difficult, making writing difficult and even making the making of things more challenging, so I haven’t been distracting myself as much with sewing or knitting projects. But I’m back in physical therapy, doing yoga, eating well and getting massage therapy occasionally, so I’m doing what I can.
Huh. Yep. Even bored myself with this post. I do know, however, that I have a couple of readers who suffer from fibromyalgia and, at the very least, maybe they’ll get some comfort out of knowing they’re not alone.
March 28th, 2008
I married into a pretty amazing family. And I’m not just saying that because my mother-in-law Jean, Jean, the Beauty Queen reads my blog more faithfully than anyone else and actually causes a stir if I don’t post in a while. No, the Carey women are remarkable across the board. To wit, last month I posted a link to an interview my sister-in-law Julie Carey (Chris’ older sister, for those keeping track) did with Obama preceding the Virginia primaries.
Well, while one SIL is busy reporting the news in and around our nation’s capital, another is busy making news in the Pacific Northwest. Chris’ younger sister Amy Carey lives and works on Vashon Island, a beautiful little oasis just off Seattle where she is, among other things, a passionate environmental activist. She’s been featured in her local and regional news quite a bit lately for her work in opposing the expansion of Glacier Northwest’s gravel mining operations on teeny Maury Island, Vashon’s neighbor. Recently, Amy was interviewed by the Seattle Post-Intelligencer last month and is featured in this clip from Channel Five although in the latter she is, oddly enough, not identified. It doesn’t stop her from looking both smart and cappy and being, as is her style, dazzlingly well-informed and articulate. She could have used a little more air time, but I might be biased.
The issue at stake, for those who’s curious, is the environmental impact the mine expansion will have on the ecosystems of both Maury and Vashon Islands, which Glacier Northwest and its proponents seem to be brushing off as both minor and temporary. Many residents of the islands feel quite differently, as you can imagine. You can learn more or get involved by visiting the website of Preserve Our Islands, of which Amy is president.
March 9th, 2008
Last weekend, my niece Olivia did just that. And it looks like such fun, doesn’t it?
Here she is, on the right, with her little friend Kylie, at Olivia’s Chuck E. Cheese birthday party. They hugged and held each other practically the whole day and when they whispered secrets, their noses pressed right up against the other’s cheek. Isn’t pre-inhibition friendship the sweetest thing on earth?
Building on the sweet theme, a tray of girly-pink cupcakes.
Clearly delicious.
Oh. My. God. SPARKLY DRESS UP SHOES! CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT?????
Back at home, Olivia was kind enough to share the spotlight with her uncle Chris and her sister, Rebecca.
For a brief moment, anyway.
Since Olivia’s a wee bit of a ham, it was no trouble talking her into a fashion show featuring the skirts I’d made her for her birthday. First, the girly-pink flowery and hearty one, accompanied by her current favorite “double peace sign” pose.
Then, the one that started as the fabric above. Don’t know if you can see it, but it’s “Olivia” fabric designed by children’s book author Ian Falconer, who pens and illustrates the gorgeous Olivia the pig series.
And wound up as this skirt. Clearly, it works for the model.
February 24th, 2008
We don’t make a particularly big deal out of Valentine’s Day in our household, partly because it’s such a silly affair full of expectations and pressure — and partly because it was usurped in our family six years ago this day by the birth of my niece Olivia. Really, a far more important matter to celebrate.
Still, my husband is not fool enough to let today pass without at least a small gesture of a simple bouquet, my favorite kind. And there’s something just so clean and perfect, so compact and magnificent, about white tulips that I thought you might like to share them.
Speaking of my niece Olivia, I’m not confirming that the fabric above was purchased specifically with her birthday in mind. I’m just showing it to you, is all. It is, the astute observer will note, based on Ian Falconer’s famed and adorable children’s books about Olivia the pig. I’m not sure many children are equipped to really appreciate the beautiful simplicity of Falconer’s work — nor do I think my niece has really reconciled with the idea of being associated with such a porcine figurine — but I just think there’s something heart-breakingly sweet about said piggie and her exploits.
We’re off to Indianapolis tomorrow for a quick weekend trip, in which we will celebrate Olivia’s birthday (belatedly, of course) and Chris’ birthday on Sunday. One of them will be celebrating with a Saturday afternoon bash at Chuck E. Cheese’s, but I shan’t tell you which.
February 14th, 2008
As with most things, I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while. I really like, as a general proposition, small gestures that can make a big difference in the long run. In that vein, my sister just signed my two youngest nieces up for UPromise accounts and the whole thing seems very cool to me. UPromise lets you save money for college for your relatives or even yourself by allocating a small percentage of purchases made with registered credit or debit cards, using certain grocery or retail store loyalty cards, eating at participating restaurants or shopping online at a vast number of websites.
Since I do a fair amount of shopping and eating, I’m already stocking away a little bit here and there. A couple of my favorite restaurants in town will earn me from 4%-8% on my bill. My Kroger rewards card earns me cash when I buy certain items. And when I shop on line, as I am wont to do, I get a little bit of cash into my account. It’s not like I’m saving tons at this point, but my sister and other family members are also doing this for my nieces. It adds up and by the time the girls are college age — they’re 6 and 9 now — I suspect whatever we’ve socked away will be useful.
Even cooler, you can link the money to 529 savings accounts — which let you save dough for your kids for college — and put it in there with the click of a button. I’ve sent links to my friends with small kids encouraging them to start UPromise accounts and invite their friends and families to participate. As my sister said, her kids have enough crap, so it would be really helpful if, on their birthdays, the money that my family spends on gifts went into their UPromise and/or 529 accounts.
When my sister gets 529 accounts set up for my nieces, I can even make a small, automatic monthly contribution that could add up over time. College is stupid expensive these days, so I can’t imagine how much it will cost even for a basic in-state education when my nieces go. (And, yes, if they wind up dropping out and going into food service, you can withdraw the money that wasn’t spent on college.)
February 14th, 2008
As you probably know by now, Barack Obama triumphed over Hillary Clinton in the ever-important Virginia primary. A couple of days before the primary, my sister-in-law Julie Carey — a veteran reporter for DC-area NBC affiliate Channel Four — sat down for a one-on-one interview with Obama. You can watch the interview, in two parts, on the NBC4.com website. Sadly, the camera never pans to Julie, but the most important part remains: I’m one degree of separation from Obama now.
And lest I get accused of currying favor, I’ve also been meaning to provide a link to this story, which ran last week on NPR’s Day to Day. It’s an interview with legendary political activist Robin Morgan, whose 1970 essay “Goodbye to All That” became a famous text in the drive to end politics as usual in this country, particularly where gender issues were concerned. Morgan has since penned a follow-up essay, entitled “Goodbye to All That (#2),” which calls for another look at the double-standard that exists in this campaign between the way women politicians are covered in the media, compared to their male counterparts.
One of the most jarring incidents Morgan points to in the NPR piece is the heckling of Hillary Clinton last night during a speech in the beltway. The senator was disrupted by a man who called out, “Iron my shirt!” As Morgan points out, the incident was covered and repeated — often with amusement — in the media in the days that follow. However, Morgan posits that there would have been a vastly different reaction had it been Obama on stage and a heckler cried out, “Shine my shoes!” It’s a simple illustration of a really salient point — that we, as a nation, will tolerate gender discrimination when a similar inicidence of racial discrimination would have caused riots.
As evolved as we like to think we are, Morgan’s new essay — which has been widely circulated via email — is an important one for our times. It’s uncomfortable — and perhaps especially so for women — to be reminded of and to acknowledge how far we haven’t come in the area of gender and politics. You don’t have to be a fan of Hillary Clinton’s to appreciate what Morgan’s essay has to say — merely a proponent of equality along gender lines.
February 13th, 2008
Well, we got our three inches. (That’s what she said!) It’s frankly more than a tad disappointing, given yesterday’s commotion about winter storms, but apparently it’s enough to cancel schools. Which seems a bit ridiculous to me. This is Michigan, people. If we can’t get our children to school because of three inches of snow, what hope is there?
Astute observers will note that I am penning this entry at what is a ridiculously early hour for me. I woke around six this morning with that strange combo where your body is completely exhausted but your brain won’t let you fall back to sleep. I think it’s part of the Effexor withdrawal, which I haven’t written about since my disastrous attempt to come off it a couple of weeks ago. I’ll provide a quick update at the risk of boring 99% of my readers in the hope that it might prove useful to that 1% who is having a similar experience.
As I noted, coming off even the smallest available dosage — 37.5 mg capsules — was a nightmare I’d prefer not to repeat. So I decided to step down even more slowly, which meant actually opening up the capsules, counting the granules of medication and manually cutting them in half. (For the record, there are an average of 126 grains of Effexor in each capsule.) I’ve been on that lower dose for over a week and it’s been much, much easier. It’s not symptom free — there are the occasional “zaps” and some other stuff — but it’s not terrible.
Today I’m stepping down again to 1/4 of the 37.5 mg capsules and we’ll see how that goes. I suspect, as I’ve read, that the real symptoms kick in when you drop off entirely, but I’m hoping if I do this for a week and then stop, things won’t be nearly as bad as before. I’ll keep you posted. I know it’s riveting.
On the flip side, I think I’m experiencing some pain relief from the new drug I’m on for fibromyalgia, neuronton. (Or, more accurately, the generic version, gabapentin.) It’s just hard to tell sometimes if it’s real relief or if I’m just in a place in the pain cycle where I feel better. I also have been doing a little research on neurontin withdrawal, in case this doesn’t work, and that doesn’t seem like a pleasant experience either. That scares me a little. But what should I do? Just live with the pain? Blech. Sometimes I just wish someone would fix me.
February 1st, 2008
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