Monday Menus are Back.

 I've been having difficulty keeping my A1C below 7 points. So, I'm going back to making menus for myself. Some items are for the whole family (typically dinner). My doctor is having me cut back on caffeine to resolve my night time heart burn problems before I develop an ulcer. I have switched to half-caff coffee and I am having 3 cups a day instead of 5. I have also done my best to not go bananas over iced tea (one of my favorites) and cut back on the diet soda. It's been a challenging three weeks. On my first day, I tried to go cold turkey and have no caffeine. That resulted in a migraine. Hence the fact that coffee is still in the menu. I have also been pushing more water. I have a 24 oz tumbler that I drink four full tumblers through the day. It works well for me to hit my target for water consumption.

Enough rambling, here's the menu:

 

Day	Breakfast	Lunch	Dinner
Sun	yogurt coffee bagel thin w/ cream cheese	peanut butter and jelly sand. chips almond milk	pizza diet soda
Mon	yogurt coffee granola	ham sand. chips iced tea	hamburgers almond milk
Tues	yogurt coffee granola	turkey sand. baby carrots water	tacos/ taco salad diet soda
Wed	yogurt coffee Eng. muffin w/ egg	gazpacho sand. thin egg water	pulled pork cheesy potatoes iced tea
Thurs	yogurt granola coffee	egg salad sand. baby carrots iced tea	sandwich night water
Fri	yogurt coffee granola	chopped salad w/ tuna water	chicken nuggets/ fish salad water
Sat	yogurt coffee cheese omlette bagel thin w/ cream cheese	turkey sand. chips iced tea	take out diet soda

Happy Pride Month, Keep Fighting.

 Dear Reader,

I have found one method of wrapping my hair that agrees with my scalp. Wearing a cotton kerchief beneath the scarves works out pretty well. Then I wrap it rather securely, because I have a small head.

You may have noticed a theme in the colors. They're the colors for the bisexual flag. I'm not as tired as I look in this pic. I'm just exasperated with the computer's shenanigans before I was actually get it to take the pic.

The colors in the bisexual flag are purple, pink, blue, and black. I think it's fantastic. The way I wrapped this is in a double braided crown. Then I used a hair taping technique to bind the two braids together with my blue ribbon. I'm wearing my heart earrings because LOVE! The chipped stone necklaces are rose quartz, amythest, and sodalite. The pendant that you can't see on the silver chain is my Greenman pendant for Freyr. I see him as a god who approves of Pride and works behind the scenes to help the movement be successful. Another goddess (aside from Freyja who is all about this business) that I associate with Pride is Lofn, the Nordic and Germanic goddess of forbidden relationships, the one who shelters lovers that others try to pull apart and encourages them to have hope in their relationship's strength.

Lately, Beloved and I have been watching with horror the push back against Pride and the LGBTQ+ community. We've been doing what little we can. He has a pink hat with the Progress flag on it. I have a jacket with all kinds of Pride stuff on it and something for people who are in domestic abuse situations (i.e. that queer kid getting abused by there parents can talk to me and I can point them in the direction of resources that will help them).We're planning to do more activisim in a less passive way. Because if our boys tell us that they're part of the LGBTQ+ spectrum, we want to make sure it's safe for them.

My week sucks, how about yours?

 Dear Reader,

Sunday was actually a decent day. Monday happened with Memorial Day parade and ceremony at the fire department up the road. The jingoism and the knee jerk cheer for the kid who stood up and gave a 'special statement' made me disgusted. It read like something from the Hitler Youth, literally ending with an exhortation for us to be good Americans.

I wept openly as they played the national anthem for what this country has become. I also wept when they played taps. The others aren't necromancers, they couldn't see the rank and file of the military dead of the town standing at attention, having been summoned by the ceremony. I acted as the designated mourner for them. Meanwhile the people in front of me were babbling about the fire trucks looking like they had a new paint job and what they were going to have at their cook out. It made me sick.

Monday also sucked because in the evening was when the migraine hit. It lasted until this morning. I was useless for anything, doing my best to keep down food, and remembering not to cry out when light randomly hit me directly in the eyes with out my sunglasses on in the apartment.

Today I am post migraine which is almost as bad. I didn't get anything done today either because I spent most of my day sleeping off the migraine 'hangover'. I absolutely hate these things. So, that's where I'm at. How are you? Doing better I hope.

Perseveration sucks.

 Perseveration is the act of thinking about one topic for an extended period at the exclusion of other topics. This is different from concentration or being focused. It can go on for hours or, even, days. It's part of a collection of symptoms I have from  my mental illnesses. I pretty much hate it because I perseverate on horrible things from the past that I don't have 'resolved'. Honestly, I don't think you can resolve the breech of trust that comes from when your parents throw you out of the house when you're extremely ill in the middle of winter. I had pennies to my name and they were going to leave me with just the clothes on my back out in the street. My Grandparents intervened and that's how I wound up living in east Jesus for a year before I got married.

 I grew up on a farm about 5 miles from civilization in any direction. There was literally nowhere for me to go. I've been thinking about this for weeks. I had to deal with threats of being thrown out from the age of 12 through my early 20s. When they did it, they claimed it was because I wasn't pulling my weight as a member of the household. Meanwhile, one brother chain smoked, played video games, and was unemployed for years by that point, with a child. The other brother was in the military but wasted his money on alcohol instead of supporting his wife and children, leaving the rest of the family to do that. And when he was on leave, he would play video games and fuck off to bars in the area to get his drink on instead of going to be with his family. Neither brother cleaned anything, they wouldn't cook, or do their own laundry.

It was my childhood all over again during the time from graduation from college to when they threw me out. I was basically the household serf who had to perform perfectly and be silent. There is a lot of unresolved trauma around all of that. I think that's why I can't get it out of my head. It's part of a long list of things that I am certain I can never 'resolve' only learn to live with.

A special embroidery project completed.

 The fan pictured to the right is a project that was stuffed into a bag of yarn I inherited from my late paternal Grandmother. She only had the handle of the fan done before it got put into a bag of yarn and forgotten. (Not that I've done that before, wink.)

It has taken me months to work on it because it was an emotionally grueling task. Finding a strand of her hair tangled up with some of the wool for this pattern, I got teary eyed and twisted the wool a little tighter so that silver thread of memory was in it. Looking at the finished product you can't tell where it is, I felt that was appropriate.

I still have to mount this and frame it. It is going to go beside the white fan with flowers on it and a Monarch butterfly beside it. That was the one she completed. It is sitting on the bookcase. This will likely go beside it. I miss my paternal Grandparents terribly and I haven't fully mourned their deaths. Family politics and circumstances kept me from their internment. At the viewing I was wandering around comforting relatives. I got a brief glimpse of my Grandfather in the box at his viewing and not a single glance at my Grandmother's viewing.

Some day, Beloved and I are going to go down to the family plot and lay some flowers down. It won't be easy, but it will be healthier for me than thinking they're still puttering around at the farm.

One post a month is progress, right?

 I feel guilty that the blogs are all in want of attention. I feel like I'm just making up excuses about why I haven't been writing at the rate I had been in the past. At the same time, I am anxious about meeting the sleep specialist. I worry about how therapy is going for my kids. I worry about Beloved's health and all the damn stress he's under. 

My home is a mess. But I cleared out a few feet worth of space in the project room. I have been organizing piles of goods and making decisions on how to approach them. It feels like a lame distraction from how much of a mess my kitchen is. I'm forcing myself to stay awake to post this. And yet I can't manage to get these damn dishes done.

Beloved would gently remind me right now that I am still having problems sleeping which is messing with my energy levels. He would tell me that if I'm practically falling asleep at the keyboard, I should take a short nap. He would remind me that it isn't laziness that has me avoiding the dishes but the trauma from how I was taught to wash them. And then give me a stern look asking if I was going to take that short nap I needed.

And he'd be right. On all points.

Hey! I'm losing my marbles.

I don't know if I've posted any recent pics of myself. I want to say that I haven't in a while because I just
haven't been blogging. Please forgive the terrible lighting, but here's a pic that I took just today. For the record, my hair used to be approximately hip length three years ago. Two years ago, it was shoulder length and breaking, coming out, and splitting. So, I walked into a salon with a picture of what I wanted. The people running the salon had me literally sit in the corner and think if I was sure I wanted such a dramatically different cut.

Looking back on that, I chuckle. I've wanted a haircut like this since I was a teen. When I was a teen, I would have been thrown out of the house for it. For you folks who can't tell with the messed up lighting, I have a buzzed undercut and a short pixie cut on top. I've mussed it up and spiked it up for this pic. It's how I usually wear it. I don't typically put product into my hair, but I did today just to make sure that this look held long enough for me to take this pic. 

The people at the salon were declaring me brave for cutting my hair. I looked at them like they had lost their minds. I said bluntly, "It's hair. If I don't like the cut, it'll grow back. What am I going to do, get mad at you because I was dumb? That's just foolish." There was a collective gasp and then a sigh of relief. When the haircut was done, the stylist said to me that she had never seen someone so determined to get their hair cut before. I shrugged and replied that I knew the only way to keep my hair from falling out faster was to go short. Next thing I know, I'm being regaled with horror stories from the stylists in the salon of others who were losing their hair and went long to super long and how badly it ended up for them.

They still don't believe I had hip length hair before. I think I'm going to have to bring my wedding picture in to show them how long my hair used to be. I still don't understand people who flip out on their stylist when their hair doesn't come out like how the envisioned it in their minds or like the person in the photo. Everyone's head is different. I knew my pixie cut portion wasn't going to lay flat because I have something like five cowlicks on the top of my head. (Super annoying with a regular pixie cut but kinda awesome with this.) Maybe other people are not as self aware when it comes to their hair. I don't know. I still think it's foolish to scream over your hair being your hair and behaving in its own unique way. 

If you hate your hair that much, wouldn't it be easier to just get a wig instead of constant disappointment or anger with your stylist?

Edited to add a better pic:

Fiber Fluff Check In.

 Hi everybody!

I haven't made much progress on spinning right now. I've come to realize that I spin more and do so more consistently when the weather is fair and warm. The weather mocks me by being fair and bitterly cold. I want to go out and walk with my spindle and distaff. But, I have to wait about a month for that warm weather.  I pace a bit in my apartment but it isn't quite the same. My kick wheel is put away until I'm ready to ply the singles that I'm working on. I had two balls of grey alpaca pencil roving. One of them got spun up into a twisted and pigtailing single. Things look the same for the second ball of roving. I'm then going to ply it with hand spun acrylic roving. I found it at the craft store for a few bucks because it was on clearance. I have no idea what the staple length is. I'm really hoping it isn't 35 yards. If it is, I'll have to bust out a ruler and a good pair of scissors to cut it down to a uniform staple length. The thing about the acrylic roving that threw me for a loop (aside from finding it to begin with) is the fact that it feels like silk. 

If the roving feels like silk, how on Earth do they mangle it into the scratchy monstrosity that we're all familiar with? My plan is to ply the three together to make a yarn that is a bit more sturdy than my usual three ply laceweight yarn. If the acrylic experiment works out well, I may try spinning it with other materials. It's the same grey as the alpaca but it has a silver sheen. I know it will play well with the other singles as soon as I get them done.

I haven't done any embroidery in the last few months. I just haven't been feeling well and the frustration of getting my glasses adjusted properly made things harder. But, now I have new glasses and I'm going to pick up the needle and thread again as soon as I'm done cleaning everything for Moura.* Right now, I realized that I was measuring the progress I was making on Cuddle Bear's sweater wrong. I have another ten inches to knit before dealing with the shoulders and then the back of this sweater. I'm frustrated but I'm not giving up. Cuddle Bear is being gracious and patient, which is pretty hard for a 15 yo. 

Aside from what feels like an endless knitting project that I'm doing all wrong, I am working on the final batch of preemie hats. I have eight in the box, one on the hook, and about 24 more to make to hit my goal of 99 hats for the hospital. Apparently the big preemie hat program that I was contributing to was only giving donations to the big city hospitals. That made me a bit mad. I'm debating how to continue the project on my own and the logistics of getting them out to the smaller hospitals in the rural counties like the one where I live.

Aside from that, once I get hat 99 done, I'm going to start making scarves. I have to talk to the school social worker about how many she thinks they need. I figure I'll start with my kids' school district and branch out from there.

*Moura is the name of Filianism's season/month of purification and preparation for the Daughter's sacrifice. I've been spending most of it with a migraine thanks to these stupid winter storms. When I am not dealing with a migraine or its fallout, I've been cleaning like a madwoman. This deep cleaning got complicated when the bathroom sink started leaking. But that's a post for another day (and a bit more of a rant).

I hate this weather.

 Hello all, it's me again.

I'd have posted more over the last little while but I have been dealing with recurring migraines as these cursed winter storms roll through the area. One of them was four days long with the prescription medication from the doctor. I'm currently on day two of a migraine. Yesterday, I took a brand name off the shelf migraine medication. It wore off and I felt horrid. I've been nervous about taking the prescription medication too many times in a month. That's why when the four day migraine hit, I only took it on the first day and then the other stuff on the following days.

Today, I said I'm not going to be so damn cautious and I just too the prescription medication, despite the fact that I had it twice earlier in the week. These winter storms and the wild swings in the temperature are just wrecking havoc. When I was a kid, I used to love winter and how pretty it all looked. Now, I scorn it because it has been causing me immense pain.

One of my doctors said that I was going to quite likely be more prone to migraines as I go through perimenopause. I wasn't thrilled with the news. Honestly, I wasn't thrilled to be told that I  have entered perimenopause. But it explains why my hair went grey so fast and started falling out. As such, I have had to abandon the long hair that most of you know me for. I have a super short pixie cut on top and an undercut to go with it. It's confused some people. I look more masculine with this haircut to some people. I think it's a pretty androgynous look, to be honest. 

When I changed my hairstyle to one that I had wanted since I was a teen but never got because I knew my parents would have likely thrown me out of the house for it, I changed my clothing style. Due to coincidence, I've dropped a fair amount of weight over the last few years. Clothes that were sort of loose started falling off me. I had to give up my favorite sweater because it was falling off me. I was a 3x for a while now I am a 1x. I'm almost back to the size I wore before I had kids. I figure it'll probably be by the end of the year that I am down to that. It goes every 3 mo to 6 mo, my clothing size goes down for the last two years. I suspect it's due to the diabetes. 

But instead of the Boho style that I was sort of doing before, I have gone to Goth with splashes of added color. I call it Rainbow Goth. My in-laws are a bit confused and mildly perturbed by it. I know they'll get used to it. Or not, I'm not going to worry about it much. I've always loved the Goth aesthetic and wanted to wear that style. I'm not  yet where I want to be style wise but I'm working towards it. Most of my wardrobe is black and I've got my colorful scarves. I have a small selection of colorful stuff, but I'm sorting it out because I don't know what fits anymore.

Sleep Hates Me.

 Hi folks,

It's been a while since I posted and I apologize. Everything seems to be going haywire. No great tragedies (knocks wood) just many basic things going sideways at the least helpful time.

If you've been following my intermittent posts about health stuff, you may recall there was a suspicion that I have long Covid at one point. My general practitioner hit me with a battery of questions and ruled out long Covid. He did however suggest sleep apnea. He's ordered a test for it and I'm a bit nervous.

Beloved rested with me a few nights ago as I got into deep sleep. In the space of two hours, I was choking for breath twelve times. I think I woke up one or two of those times, but, yeah, that's a thing. The doctor I have been referred to hasn't contact me yet, so I'll be calling their office to try to schedule this thing. It all makes me as nervous as a cat in a rocking chair factory.

My exhaustion during the day is proving to be a significant problem. I lose half a day to it on average every day. Some days it's worse. I didn't have this problem before. It may have begun way back in August of 2021. I don't know. All I really do know is that this is slowly getting worse. I tried looking up information about sleep apnea. Don't do it folks, get your information from the doctors because everything else will tell you that you're dying. (Usually my research gets decent information, this time I was unsuccessful.)

I just want to go to bed, sleep peacefully (aka with out nightmares just about every night), and wake up functional. I feel like it's too much to ask. We'll see how things go with this test and what the sleep specialist has to say. It may be that I can come off of my medications to help me stay asleep from my psychiatrist. He's of the opinion that if you need the medicine take it, if you turn out to be negatively impacted by it or it doesn't help, you find another route to your goal. He's a pretty awesome doctor, to be honest.

Screw Valentine's Day.

 Everything in the stores are pink and red. Hearts all over the place. Oversized plushies and boxes of chocolate damn near spilling into the aisles. It makes me grumpy. So much emphasis is put on romantic love that all other forms of love are pushed aside. It only matters if you have a Hallmark Movie moment. Fuck that noise.

I'm too busy to do that shit. My husband is too busy to do that shit. We don't do well with the social pressure to put on neurotypical/socially conventional displays of affection at the drop of the hat. We never have. As a result, we kinda have a hatred for Valentine's day and just about everything it stands for. The commercialization of love is disgusting and repellant. I'm sorry, but my relationship is unique and your cookie cutter mold of how we should express ourselves and what we're supposed to give as gifts to each other (on demand) isn't going to fit. It's just awful and it is horrid to see this pressure put on young people.

My kids struggle with the concept of Valentine's day and romance. There's a lot of subtext there that they can't read. As a result, when they try to fit in, it fails because they read the script literally. And when they choose to ignore it they're considered to be aloof and not interested in socialization. My 15 yo would like a girlfriend. Partly, it's because of the desire to fit in with his peers. Partly, it is because he sees the relationship that my husband and I have and he wants to build something like that for himself.

I'd prefer that he look for a partner that he can have weird in-jokes with and count on to be there for him when things get challenging. I think that would be healthier for him than hopping into a relationship so that he fits in better with what he sees his peers have going on. I did that and it had horrific results. I don't want him to experience the pain and manipulation that goes with an abusive partner who snaps you up because your lonely and desperate to fit in to the social mold of high school.

I worry that will happen to the kids because they read everything literally. So, when that person says 'I love you.' they are going to think it's genuine when it's actually a line of bullshit to strengthen the social bond that the abusive person is building between them before the honeymoon period ends and bad things happen. So many people think Valentine's day is harmless and romantic. It's not, but nobody wants to shatter that illusion.

Hi again, it's been a while.

 My health has been a problem since I had Covid back last year. I am exhausted all the time, regardless of how much sleep I get. I lose half a day to naps just about everyday. It makes me mad. I have things I want to do. I have chores that I am struggling to stay on top of (like dishes) because my stamina is garbage since I had Covid. It's lead to bouts of despair and bouts of high fury. I am not well and no matter how much I rest I remain unwell.

I talked with my psychiatrist about the possibilities of this being side effects from my medications. We reviewed the medications list and their side effects. The conclusion was this is not a side effect of any of my medications.

He mentioned 'Long Covid' and suggested that I talk to my general practitioner about it. I have been running a low grade fever since October. I have this exhaustion that I can't shake. There's increased brain fog, to the point that I am spelling common words wrong and proof reading everything to make sure that it is correct. Brain fog that has me forgetting appointments and to use my glucose meter on a regular basis. I have been struggling to use my planner to compensate for this but it's not working very well.

My anxiety has been creeping upward as this state of affairs continues. I worry about driving and getting lost. I worry about forgetting appointments that are important for the kids. It's been just hellacious to be like this. I feel like I'm utterly unreliable between my anxiety, the exhaustion issues, and the brain fog.

On top of that, we've got a downstairs neighbor who likes to stand out in front of our apartment and talk smack about me to pretty much anyone who'll listen. I have nothing to do with her. I've been polite, almost formal in my dealings where I have no choice but be in her presence. I am furious. I can't do anything about this. I can only hope that the new neighbors next door lets the evidence of my deeds speak for me. One of these days, I may just open up the door while she is going on her spiel about how I am lazy, filthy, and untrustworthy and tell her to shut up because she has no clue what she's talking about.

Fiber Fluff: I think this sweater is going to make me crazy.

 Dear Reader,

I'm working on a sweater for Cuddle Bear that is a pattern that dates back to WWI. Doing the pattern exactly as it is written, it looks like it's going to fit him for two seasons. He's super excited about this and doesn't care if he gets it a bit late. Given how slow progress is going on it, it may be January when he gets it. I don't know. I have tried dedicating two hours everyday to working on it. But garter stitch is painfully boring. I'm debating finding audio books that I can listen to as I work. Maybe it will relieve the boredom.

Snuggle Bug asked for a pair of slippers. I'm struggling to find the notebook that I wrote the pattern down in. The project room is kinda something of a disaster because I haven't got in there to organize and clean things. And that disaster has spread to part of the living room because I have books I'm working on that I need my notes to complete. It's just a mess because I was not well for multiple months and never got to this.

Now we're getting to the time where I'm getting nervous. Functionally two months to go. I just might be screwed, y'all.

Re: that emotional train wreck - still haven't figured out where to bury survivors.

 It hit me that I've been stalled in all of my public writing projects because my father-in-law acted like my father one day when we were visiting. I had a emotional flashback regarding his dismissing my writing as a mere hobby and talking over me. I was silent then but now ... Well, I keep thinking about that joke 'What's red and bad for your teeth? A brick.' and introducing the old man to a fundamental piece of building equipment in use since antiquity. That, however, must remain an idle fancy for the sake of peace and keeping frith. He may be a bad host, but I will be an exemplary guest.

So, the emotional flashback to my parents mocking my goals in life hits me. Around the same time, the neighbor ramps up his violence and the other neighbors who are constantly having screaming fights are back in action. This sets off a few months of bad cptsd episodes. Ones where I basically find a place I can hide but still watch what's going on with an escape route. And as I hide, I sit there feeling numb and shaking. Then, when the kids get home from school, dissociation switches on and I'm cheerful enough that even they are a little suspicious something's not quite right. By the time the end of the day comes, I am too exhausted to really do anything.

First, came the five day migraine. After it had passed, I discovered I had zero fucks to give about anyone except my immediate family. It was like my brain reset somehow through all that pain. It prompted me to talk to my doctor finally about my migraines because they were becoming more frequent due to the weather being stupid. (My migraine trigger is changes in the weather.) So, he put me on a generic form of Imitrex and my life's been significantly easier on the migraine front. After it seemed like that problem had been put to bed, something else pops up.

I freaking had Covid-19. Beloved and I are pretty sure it was the Omicron variant because the kids bounced back in a few days and had little more than cold symptoms. Beloved got the sniffles and was taking care of me. Because it happened like every  time I get sick - flat on my back and sick as a dog for weeks while the rest of the family bounces back real quick. I was talking with Beloved about this and we agreed it has only gotten to be more of a pain in the neck since I got diagnosed with diabetes.

So, about week 2.5 into my being sick with Covid, my blood sugar starts fluctuating wildly and the lows are really scary low (at one point I had a 56 when 55 is the point you need hospital assistance). I was worried that Covid was attacking my pancreas. I had seen medical studies talking about how hypoglycemia is an overlooked symptom of Covid because it wasn't well known. To say the least that scared me. I got into contact with my doctor described the pain I was having in my abdomen and the crazy blood sugar drops at random. So, he ordered some tests and told me to come in if the abdominal pain continued. (The tests were put on hold because I wasn't over Covid yet.)

About five days later, I'm in the office and he checked me over. I was just over Covid at that time. He postulated that the problem wasn't Covid itself but the fact that due to Covid's fuckery I hadn't moved my bowels in a week and a half. So, he directed me to keep taking the fiber that I was doing already and get a laxative. I was a little suspicious that the laxative wasn't going to help with  my abdominal pain. But, after a few days, it eased up a lot. As for the blood sugar matter, he halved my dose of Glymiperide because apparently Glymiperide can cause people to have randomly low blood sugars. When I was off it, my blood glucose numbers were higher but they weren't dropping into the scary zone. He put me back on it at the half dosage and things were looking more normal.

Then on the Saturday after I saw the doctor, I went to the lab and got my battery of tests done. I was waiting to do one last test when a massive dizzy spell that nearly knocked me on my butt happened. I was gently guided to a chair and they asked if they could help. I said that I thought it was because of my diabetes (because I had been fasting for some of the tests) and they gave me a juice box of apple juice. I confess, as much as I wanted to grumble about diabetes, I couldn't help being happy because I was able to have my favorite type of juice for the first time in years.

Just this Sunday passed, the doctor called me. At first I didn't answer the call because I forgot I had his cell number. The second time he called, I answered it and he had some good news for me. My pancreas, liver, and everything else associated with the production of insulin tested at normal levels. That was a huge relief. It was also a surprise because I thought I was going to have to wait for Wednesday and my appointment to learn what the results of the test were.

There was also some bad news, that was relatively minor. At some point over the time I was sick, I developed a uti. I kinda wondered how it happened but the doctor discussed antibiotics with me and figured out one that will kick it out of my system. I'll be getting that soon. I just hope that they're not horse pills or like the antiviral pills for Covid (4 pills to swallow 2x a day and they tasted gross). But between mental illness problems and fucking Covid, I haven't been blogging or writing anywhere but in my daily journal. And a section of it was a recording of my symptoms.

It is my hope to get all of this stuff that's been blocking me sorted out. Now, the screaming neighbors have been evicted, so that makes one less trigger to deal with. Since the police had a conversation with the other neighbors, things have been a lot calmer and less violent. I'm on tenterhooks to some extent because I know how the abuse cycle works. I keep telling myself that the guy isn't going to come after me and if he did, cast iron frying pan to the face will drop him like a rock. It's not working super great to convince me that I'm safe, but I'm trying.

Screw Covid with a rusty chainsaw, sideways.

 I haven't felt well enough to write on any platform except quick notes in my daily journal tracking my symptoms since about the middle of last month. My youngest son got sick with Covid during what I think was the second week of school. Within 72 hours, my eldest son and I had it too. Beloved came down with it a few days later. (His case was super mild and all he got was the sniffles.) The boys had mostly cold symptoms and a lot of gas.

I need to back this truck up a bit and start over. Snuggle Bug went to school on a Tuesday and in the time it took for him to get there (wearing a mask for safety, like we've been doing the whole time) and get through two classes, he caught Covid. He was sent to the nurse for flu like symptoms and he was there feeling awful. We got a phone call to pick him up and Beloved got out of work for a little while to pick him up from school. Snuggle Bug was not his usual chatty self. He was running a low grade fever and we did a Covid test. He tested positive pretty much immediately. 

I called our family doctor and asked how we should proceed. He said that as a family we should quarantine for the rest of the week and when Snuggle Bug was recovered he can go back to school wearing a mask for 5 days, with us keeping an eye on him for the resurgence of symptoms. Three days later, the boys have mild cold symptoms and a lot of gassiness. Between the two of them, they finished off the two boxes of gas-x that we had in the cupboard over the course of that week. I had half the laundry list of symptoms but tested negative. 

I quickly reached a point where I was nearly delusional from fever, dizzy, and barely able to keep track of a conversation. I was exhausted and constantly running to the bathroom for my butt to explode for the first few days. Then the diarrehea stopped and I had wicked gas pains.  The dizziness and the inability to think clearly became more intense as did the other flu like symptoms. I was sleeping sitting upright for a week and I hated it because no matter what I did I was coughing and hacking like hell. Towards the end of the second week, the area around my pancreas began to ache. At first I passed it off as just muscular pain from all the coughing.

I was dumb. The ache grew more intense and hasn't gone away. As of last Saturday night, my blood sugar has been dropping into the mid-60s to upper 50s. I knew anything below 70 was bad. A little research and I realized with horror just how bad it was. 55 is the number where you need an injection of glucagon. I have none in the apartment. Yesterday was bad with my blood sugar repeatedly plunging. I've called my doctor's office and I am waiting to hear back from them what I should do. To get through the night, I ate a full meal right before I went to bed. The scary part of this is I am not having the symptoms of hypoglycemia when it happens. I just get a hunch to check my sugar and go 'oh fuck!' when it is low. 

Honestly, I am scared because I have never had blood sugar this low. I still feel pretty rotten. The cold symptoms are clearing up. The fever hasn't broken yet. I am still having dizzy spells. And my guts aren't right. I'm really hoping that my doctor has a good idea on what we can do to stabilize my blood sugar. Eating multiple full meals through the day instead of 3 with 2 snacks is not the way to do it, but it is the best we've been able to come up with. And all of this is happening as I am doing extremely low impact activities.

Please forgive the emotional train wreck, we're still trying to figure out where to bury the survivors.

 Dear Reader,

My posts have been intermittent, horrifying at times, and generally full of angst. It's been this way for a while.

Today, I finally figured out why. When my grandparents died is 2013 and 2015, I went into an emotional tailspin that I haven't quite managed to pull out of. I simply haven't had the opportunity to properly grieve their deaths and it's been playing havoc with a number of things, like my writing.

At their funerals, I managed a quick glance in the casket but wasn't given the time to say my goodbyes because I basically was the emotional support person for a number of other relatives. 

At some point over the next month or so, Beloved and I are going to go visit their grave sites so I can have that closure. I can't go back to the farm because of family politics. I'm not welcome there anymore. I think my grandparents were the only ones who truly were happy I was around when I was there. I'm too much of a misfit for the rest of the WASP family, like my aunt (who I am still in contact with).  So, the only way I am going to get closure is to go to the other end of the state and have my breakdown.

Migraines, more CPTSD adventures, and exhaustion, oh my!

 Dear Reader,

Apparently my last post got put behind a warning because community guidelines says it is sensitive material aka material that would distress some readers. I'm kinda going 'How about how distressed I've been and this is my outlet?' But the overlords have made their decision so I will not question it further and invoke their ire.

With the up and down weather we've been having over the last month or so, I've been having migraines. Big surprise, because it's known that when the weather shifts I get them. It was when I had one for 5 days that I finally called my doctor and asked for prescription medication. He put me on a generic version of Imitrex and, my goodness, when the next migraine hit, I took it and was not in pain after waiting 20 minutes. It lasted all day. The next day, I could still feel the migraine but it felt less severe so I took Excedrin Migraine and felt well enough to go on with my day.

The stuff that I talked about in my last post is still ongoing. Through the course of the month, I was barely able to function because of flashbacks and my going numb. Then a wellness check got called in for their apartment and things have calmed down to a significant degree. A few days after that happened, came the 5 day migraine. I was in agony and the Excedrin was barely touching it. When it finally finished, something strange came out of it.

I'm not afraid anymore. I give zero fucks about 90% of the neighbors again. Yes, I'd like to see them alive and well, but beyond that I just don't care. When the neighbors had an argument, I just put on my headphones and listened to music.

Adjusting to the Imitrex is hard. It has me experiencing the mild dizziness and drowsiness side effects. It's annoying. My psydoc and the pharmacist warned me that this was going to happen. I foolishly thought it'd be like the side effects of Benadryl. Nope, I felt like I was on a slow moving tilt-a-whirl and was taking naps every hour. So, I'm still out of commission when a migraine hits. I had this hope that it would make the pain go away and I could just go about  my day slightly dizzy and just yawning. I was wrong. They were absolutely right when they said I shouldn't drive until I know how it effects me. Holy cow, I now know that driving on the migraine medication is a bad idea. It doesn't help that its side effects are enhanced by the side effects of the other medication I take. It sometimes feels like I can't win for losing.

Oh, for you who are keeping score about the thinning hair stuff, here's an update. I stopped using that expensive shampoo and conditioner that was supposed to cure it because it made my head itch and feel like it was lit on fire. Apparently my scalp is sensitive like the rest of my skin. (Beloved is trying it out and it seems to be helping him and he's not having that itching and burning sensation that I was.) I look like I'm going to have a high forehead if this goes the way it appears to be. Fashionable in the 11th century but not quite so much in this one. And the grey, holy cow, it's really showing up. I know partly because my sides and back are buzzed but wow. If you haven't seen my pics on instagram, my hair is no longer long enough that I have to worry about sitting on it. I have a partial pixie cut on top and an undercut. Through the summer, I had the undercut at a 1 but I think the winter it's going to be at a 2.

The funny thing is my hair cut confuses and makes my father in law uncomfortable because it's very masc coded in his opinion. And with my style change from flowy dresses to black clothes and more pants than skirts, he's just squinting at me suspiciously at random. It's been funny.

Dear gods, make it stop.

 Back at the beginning of the month, new neighbors moved into the apartment next door. Usually this is not exceptionally news worthy. These folks, however, are a problem and I can't do a damn thing about it. The young husband is abusive to his wife. Exceptionally so. The walls of the apartments are paper thin and I can hear everything. Sometimes, the fights go outside and I can see him doing things like shaking her around like a rag doll while screaming at her.

As a result of this, my c-ptsd is in full blown action. I'm having emotional flashbacks, I've had a few visual flashbacks. I'm getting confused about *when* I am in my life. I alternate between terrified, numb, deeply hurt, and saddened. Mostly, I've been numb and confused about what on earth I am supposed to be doing.

Down beneath all that is simmering rage. But, I recognize that I'm not twenty anymore and I can't tool this guy up with a louisville slugger as I could back in the day. Add to this he has a gun. He dry fired it in the entryway last week. Then, last Saturday, he fired it off the back deck. He got very lucky that he didn't hit any of the houses across the way or injure some one. And the neighbors just assume the noise is from the gun club across the street.

My brain hasn't been working quite right. I've had three migraines over the last two weeks, each lasting three days approximately. I'm sure some of it is stress from all of this. I'm equally sure that the up and down weather we've been having hasn't done me any favors. But the end result is I tend to sit and stare into space or wander around the apartment not sure what to do, half sick with terror, and perseverating on taking a baseball bat and having a conversation with the guy in Morse code.

I was going to write a story but life happened.

 So, here's how my week has been. Stressful and filled with terror that I'm going to do everything wrong/terror that someone is going to come in to the apartment and assault my kids and I'll freeze and be unable to help them/flashbacks to my shitty childhood.

I really wanted to write to fiction for you guys. You've all been wonderfully patient. It's really hard to write when you are struggling to distinguish flashbacks from reality and having a near constant panic attack. What set this off, you ask? Well the walls in these apartments are really thin and I overheard the neighbor beating his wife, who was running through the apartment slamming doors. It triggered me in a big way.

I fucking hate ptsd. Check again next Friday, I may have something for you, provided my brain calms down.

Tour de Fail

 I was going to participate in Tour De Fleece as I do most years. There has been so much going on here and my brain has been wonky because of it, the most I have spun is 9 yards. It's barely spit in the bucket. I'm disappointed but it's not like I can go back and time and get more spinning done.

I somehow screwed up the preemie sweater and am going to have to rip half of it out because I keep losing stitches on the odd rows. The first half came out fine but that bit where I had to bind of for the front neckline and then pick up stitches for the back line I managed to lose ten stitches. And it continues with that side despite my best efforts. To say the least, I am mightily frustrated.

I started actually knitting a preemie hat. I forgot how much of a pain DPNs are. Sure, you look cool after you get past the wrestling a porcupine stage, but they're still a headache. I'm finding myself reminded why I crochet these things.

I have started on Cuddle Bear's Yule gift. I'm making him a WWI pattered sweater from the Red Cross. Because I couldn't find out what the Red Cross standard for needles were or the yarn that would have been used in the project I had to improvise a bit. It's going to be tan, as he requested. I've already made mistakes in the ribbing. I figure if I keep making the same mistakes for all 4 inches, no body will  notice.

Snuggle Bug has requested a new pair of slippers which will work up fast. I have no clue what to give Beloved. I'm sure I'll figure something out.