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Rhubarb and reaching out

I didn’t muse this weekend for three reasons.

  1. My atomic clock went backwards for some reason only known to it. So, while I was padding around the house preparing to shower and gathering the laundry, I thought it was a little after 7 a.m. Turns out, as my eyeballs woke up and my vision cleared that all the other clocks in my house were in disagreement with my bedroom. It was after 8.
  2. Because I was late to the laundromat, all the tables were taken. I did manage to find one, I placed my items atop of it and went back to my car to retrieve something. When I returned a man had decided things on a table meant nothing and he had made himself comfortable in my spot.  This left me wandering aimlessly about the place, my laundry cart in tow, trying to find a place to write. I was completely displaced.
  3. I’m still in a funk. And I know there’s only so many posts anyone wants to read about someone else being in a funk.   I don’t quite know how to describe how I feel right now. Definitely I’m not myself. Definitely I’m missing the man who only two weeks ago was still under my roof. And I’m definitely feeling like I should have pulled the whole movie moment of “NO! Don’t go. It’s a mistake and I DO love you!” Then I would have run gracefully into his arms and it would have been ‘Happily Ever After’ although, to be honest, I would probably have tripped over something or pulled a muscle with such exertion.

Some happy things about this weekend. I DID have some amazing yogurt. (Hey, if I have to pull from the smallest pleasures right now, I’m going to.)  Anyway, it screamed at me from the grocery shelf with a declaration that it contained rhubarb! Rhubarb being a favorite of mine, I absolutely justified the insane cost, because I needed a treat.


I also watched a great movie, August: Osage County – which, I’m sure most of you have already seen, but it was new to me and just amazing performances.


So why must I post now?

The morning began in darkness – as our State does not observe the changing of the clocks. So, while everyone is snuggled in bed at 5 a.m., it’s 6 a.m. for me.

This morning rain fell and wind snapped and I took my hairy manatee out for a blind walk she only half heartedly agreed to participate in.

And I thought of the horrors of this weekend – and how I could only bear to watch so much coverage.

I thought of all of the people hurting and hearts that are broken today.

I thought of the state of our world and I wanted to burst.

I need you – you see.

I need you because I am hurting too.

And no, I’m not comparing my situation in any way to being a victim of a terror attack … but I’m saying – when the world and the hurt just gets too big to hold inside, well, I need YOU.

I need to write.  I need to reach out and know there IS still such good.

Even when I can’t lift my head up to see it sometimes.



The cold and feet post


Well, one toe to be specific.

I am a dork.  A klutz.

An awkward bundle of looking like a put together female on the outside and a Star Wars loving, cartoon watching, zombie adoring, comic book and action figure collecting, insecure teenaged boy on the inside.


This week I got my 3rd head cold in 4 months – a record for Miss. I-never-get-sick.

As I said yesterday, awkwardly, on Facebook, if I could itch the back of my eyeball, throat and ear with my tongue, I’d be golden.

Worked Monday and Tuesday with a fever and a leaking face – as did my boss.

I swear, our office should be quarantined at certain times of the year!

One ‘carrier’ comes near the building  and the rest of us fall in groups of diseased worker bees – then keep passing it back and forth.

But I’m hearty.  My boss and I sneezed and sniffled greetings to one another and carried on.

I’m leading up to something here.

I gave birth ‘au naturale’, I worked the day after I broke my wrist on the busiest day of the month – writing with my left hand like a chicken scratch trooper – I will only stay home if I absolutely can’t make it.

But today, I cried like a toddler after a stupid toe injury.



I started the day fuzzy – having not slept well – my mouth felt like a nest of scratching, very furry kittens had slept in it.

I took cold meds and remembered it was the day I had to be at the office early.

I skipped a shower, hurriedly dressed, threw kibble in the dogs bowl and headed to the car.

Then I sat there – in the driver’s seat and realized I was ahead of myself by over half an hour.

Got out of car – shuffled back into the house, grabbed another cup of obviously much-needed coffee and sat dazed on the couch.

The clock ticked by and I wished I had taken my shower.

When I did arrive at work, I was in hyper-drive mode.  Lots of physical things to take care of.  Cleaned, sorted out an office – back and forth, back and forth.

Then nature called.

As I was exiting the bathroom I opened the door only to have it stop half way.  It hit a door stop.

Door stop was my toe.

Now, I’m in ‘Oh God this really hurts and I’m afraid to look at what I’ve done’ mode.

Then I realize … door is still stopped half way … on my toe.

And the knowledge that I now have to basically run my toe over AGAIN is dawning on me.

I closed my eyes and WHAM – got the door ‘off’ my toe.

Tears filled my eyes … and since I have a high threshold for pain, I’m scaring myself with my body’s reaction and definitely not wanting to look down.

Seriously, the breath was literally snatched out of me.  That ‘whooomf’ of adrenaline and pain rippled through my body.

I must have made a noise, because someone, not sure who at the time, noticed me.

I hobbled to the kitchen, bleeding on my shoe.

My boss went for the first-aid kit and a co-worker came to help.

I felt like an idiot.

Trying not to cry, and not succeeding.

I remember my co-worker (that sounds so formal, she’s my friend too, as is my boss) telling me that it would be okay to swear.

I also remember thinking I REALLY wish I’d showered as they were looking closely at my foot.

And I do remember saying – “I already don’t feel well … and now I’ve hurt my tooooooe”

My boss said I could go home – and since being at my tall desk is the exact opposite of elevating my foot – I took her up on it.

****** *********WARNING!  GRAPHIC IMAGE BELOW!*********


It bled for over 3 1/2 hours.

I’m pretty sure I may have fractured it above the toe knuckle.  Is that what it’s called?

Because it bends – but when I step flat (which, I won’t be doing again anytime soon) the wind is knocked out of me and a shocking pain goes up my foot.

Of course, I won’t know this for sure as I can’t go to the doctor.

Besides, there’s nothing they can really do.

(Unless this nerd goes to a doctor whose last name is Who)


Turrets and teeth


I did something today I haven’t done in the two years I’ve been at my current job.  I called in sick.  Well, I emailed in sick to be accurate.

While the frequency of my mouth pain has substantially subsided, it still comes out of nowhere and WHAM!  Instant debilitation.

I did not want to stray far from my heating pad and, until the antibiotics kick in, am only finding relief ultimately from pain pills that I should not be taking and driving.

Nor should I be making calculated decisions, sitting upright or operating heavy machinery (like a work computer – my home one doesn’t count, if I type something wrong here, it’s not going to affect the outcome of a home purchase.)

I’m also in a bit of a dark place. 

I think when we’re not feeling well, we’re more susceptible to letting our demons in.  I’ve been cranky and sad, bitter and broody.  I counter every thought in my head with a chastising and put myself in a time-out.  I’m aware of the bullshit that is going through my head and I know that it stems from not feeling well.

It’s still scary though.

I do not like not feeling like ‘myself’.  Funny, considering this is the same body that craved that exact result for so many years. 

I’ve also come to the conclusion that funny and happy are much more appealing topics than serious or sad ones. 

To healthy people anyway.

So instead of feeling slighted that when I got few responses to the posts that only consisted of updates about how miserable I was feeling – I should be ecstatic that I have healthy people in my life. 

Turn it around.

That’s what I’ve been doing during some darker moments.

I felt like a monster yesterday and this morning when I could imagine putting a bullet through my dog’s head as she barked non-stop out of the window. 

I had to pick through that.  I know I could never – would never do such a thing.  I walk around bugs on the ground for crying out loud!

But as I lay on the couch, trying to rest – trying to gain some ground on my return to ‘me’, I didn’t want to hear one more yap.

Turn it around.

She’s guarding her family.  Albeit, from an innocuous car driving by the house or perhaps a feral rabbit hopping by the fence, but for all intents and purposes, she is barking for good.

So I gave her a squeaky toy and a chewy treat, not a bullet. 

I’ve also been scared. 

That first night – the worst night – I knew there was no one to turn to.  No one to step up and take the lead.  No one to take care of me.

This is by my own choosing, I know this.  But the older I get, the harder it is ‘going it alone’. 

It’s not fair that my son had to play that role. 

He put his arms around me on the couch as I sobbed out in pain and rocked me back and forth. 

It reminded me of the book ‘Love you Forever’.  When the grown man comes to his ailing, old mother and sings her the song she sang to him so many times.


He is not a grown man.

But he intuitively knew what was happening was no joke – and I needed comfort.

This past weekend he went to the grocery store for me, he brought me soft food and he was kind and sweet and loving.

A friend stopped by, not even knowing exactly where I lived – but she found my car after driving around.

So, I know there are people I can reach out to – but it’s very, very hard for me to do. 

I can’t look someone in the eye and say “I need help”.

I use my words.  My written words – to express how I’m feeling.

It’s cathartic and feels safe.  I don’t have to watch body language or facial expressions and have my warped sense of pride spit out an inaccurate reading.

My written words I trust.  I’ve always been able to say what I want to say on paper – or now, a screen.

What I want to say is, I need people.  I am scared of doing everything alone and I can’t do it all.  I don’t want to.

My pride has got in the way for years. 

I know this.  But I don’t know what to do about it. 

I had multiple people offer to loan me the money for the dental procedure – but I turned them all down.  I didn’t want to owe my friends money.  And when something isn’t hurting, it’s very easy to prioritize something else.

I’ve come a long way.  But there’s a hard-wired need to take care of things by myself.  Not depend on anyone.  Who knows why.  That’s a whole couch session.  Let down in the past, abandonment, or – letting someone help me and having it lorded over me.  A number of reasons.

But, I have proven I’m self-sufficient to a point of selfishness. 

Something to think about.

I need to decide to let people in.  There are so many amazing souls in my life that I keep back behind a line I have drawn in my sand.

I didn’t just build a wall, I built a tower.  I locked myself inside of it and only rapelled down to go to work or fetch supplies.

I kept my son in there too – sheltered and watching me guard my self-imposed prison – Queen of my castle. 

Absolutely ridiculous.

You know, in dreams, teeth represent anxieties and problems. Perhaps in ignoring my anxieties until they hurt so much and knocked me on my arse, I’ve finally got the chance to fix them.

Once I have this problem pulled, I’ll work on getting the rest of me healthy.