Showing posts with label meh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meh. Show all posts

Thursday, April 28, 2011

42. Deep breaths.

Gah, alright.  This blog is a bit personal, but hey.  I trust you all to "do no harm".
So in my gradual weaning off the Klonopin (the anti-seizure, tranquilizing drug that had been "easing" my nerve deal), I have encountered, er, difficulties at each stage.  Both physiological and psychological hiccups. 
Physiologically, each time I cut back, I enjoy multiple sequential sleepless restless nights, followed by several days of general jitteriness and creepy drug withdrawal feelings.
Psychologically, it's a whole horror show inside my head.  First, not sleeping, as we have learned, makes me emotionally labile.  Add that to feeling jittery, and my need to attribute this jitteriness to something actually happening in my life, and I am practically seeking out things that perhaps ordinarily would upset me, and assuming that's why I'm jittery and antsy and otherwise edgy/irritable.  For example, last night we had our annual HOA meeting.  Husband is the President of the board, making me First Lady, and requiring my presence.  Booo.  These meetings are just an opportunity for home owners to show up and yell about this or that, hear a satisfactory answer, then repeat themselves ad nauseum until eventually, the meeting is adjourned.  Not excited about it.  Feeling generally meh about it, but turning into some bigger deal than it needs to be in my head, because I am already in like, junkie medication withdrawal and feel like poop.
But then, I get there, and although there was one brief moment with several people yelling at once about the inefficient snow removal we experienced this past winter where I wanted to die, it really wasn't too bad.  I practiced self-calm techniques.  Which for me, are not some highly sophisticated technique of relaxation, or cognitive behavioral therapy of some kind.  They involve seeking out the humor in the situation (perhaps by judging others in my head, yes, I admit it), and realizing that eventually this meeting will be over, and I can share my funny thoughts with my neighbors later.  So, the table with all the yelling Grumpy Gills, suddenly became known to me as "the HumDrum-V", whereas the table I sat at (with the board members) was "the Fun-V".  This is from Iron Man, a pun about the Hum-Vs they were riding in.  Hah hah hhhah.
But back to more of what else is going on in my head.  I'm completely off the Klonopin as of two nights ago.  I've been hoping to be able to do this for MONTHS.  What's stopped me?  Fear.  Fear that if I stop, I'll feel worse and have to get back on.  Fear of what that might mean if I do feel worse, will I ever fucking just get better?  But you know, it hasn't been too bad.  At least, it's better than it was this time last year.  And for as incredibly impatient as I am, calculating recovery time in months or seasons is almost offensive an idea.  But, it's the only measurement in which I can see an improvement, so I have to accept it.  I would've loved to have said, yeah, just the other day my nerves were doing this crazy weird numb/tingly thing and it was kinda annoying, but this week it's completely gone and I feel awesome.  Instead, I'm stuck with, last April I had a spinal tap and my brain leaked fluid for a week.  I feel better than that now.  Even slightly better is that, last July I said I'd be OK if this was as good as it got for me, because at least I feel better than I did two months ago, and I feel better now than I did in July.  I can EVEN say that I feel better now than I did in March.  And that's almost miraculous.
And somehow, through all this crap, I can still enjoy a nice puffy cloud in the sky.

So, please, keep your fingers crossed I make it through this week on sub-par sleep without totally flipping out.  And that I don't start to feel worse.  And that I can adjust to life without the constant sedation I've experienced the last 13 months.  And, please, be impressed that I have made all these incredible observations about myself and shared them all with you (self-mocking tone there).

Sunday, November 14, 2010

7th Blog

Took off this morning for my run and felt so free.
I remember when I first started running it was impossible.  Everything hurt, I'd get side cramps, my lungs would burn, and I couldn't make it anywhere without grabbing at my side and limping along.  And then, it just happened to get easier.  I kept going!  I entered a 5k race, then a 10k.  The Bolder Boulder - super fun.  And finally, the Carlsbad Half-Marathon, January 16, 2005.  
 
Pic taken by Carlsbad Half-marathon crew.
My mom and second cousin also entered the race.  We separated early, but I loved the experience.  It was a there-and-back course, with the first half being all uphill (making the second half a little easier).  I had two advantages - I had trained at 5280' and this race was at sea level.  I also had trained in the winter, and this race was 60 degrees.  And I was glowing after 10 miles - the farthest I had run until this race.
I didn't finish in any remarkable time, but I finished.  And haven't done it since.
But still, running now isn't such a chore.  I've run with the flu, with hangovers, in the bitter cold, in the rain, in the snow, with chest colds, with head colds, with fevers, with sore muscles, and all because I CAN.  I couldn't before, and now I can. 

The only time I didn't run was after my foot surgery - bunionectomy back in 2006.  But while I wasn't running (I started swimming instead) I dreamed of running.

Pic courtesy of Steve Cram

Today, realizing in general I don't feel very passionately about much (*shoulder shrug - meh*), I feel passionately about exercise.  And equal and civil rights.  I can't even put it into words how strongly I feel about this.  Which is weird, because like I said before, usually, "meh".  Whatever. 
But it's good to have these realizations I suppose.  Things I would consider picketing for, or something.  Personal passions.  Strong emotions.
So let me emote a bit about exercise.  I love it.  I love how when I find a new activity, or find a new strength within myself, I fall in love with it all over again.  I make it mix tapes (in the form of playlists on my iPods).  I dream about it.  I miss it when I don't get to see (do) it.  It brings out in me the urge to write poems about it.  I associate songs with it, it's like "our song".  It makes me stronger, it makes me feel good about myself, it makes me want to be around it more.  I buy it presents (new running shoes, bike accessories, etc.).  I write it little love notes (by logging data on mapmyrun.com).  I relish in the endorphins.  I even relish in the pain (lactic acid) it causes me, knowing it's just part of the love game. 

Photo by Jim Morehouse