People always want to know how everyone is. Truth is, that whole "how are you?" thing is just a social norm...most folks who ask it don't really want to know.
But if you are really wondering how I am, I don't even know how to answer that.
For starters, I just went back to my April 20, 2008 (which was written so late at night that it posted as April 21) blog post to see what I had said about my daddy on the day of his death. Then I remembered having pondered his health and mortality earlier that month or so, and I backed up to my March posts. I was punched and blessed with a picture of my daddy taken at my Beth's graduation. I've been moping around here like a kicked puppy for a few days and when I saw that shot of him, I finally had the good cry I've been needing.
At 7:30 tomorrow morning the nice man from the heating and air company will be here to analyze our potentially dead compressor. Whatever needs fixing will not be cheap, and A/C is not optional here!
Then I go to the doctor at 9:30 to find out that I am about 35 pounds overweight, have high cholesterol, a little hypothyroid, elevating blood pressure, and to discuss how well (or not so much) I've been dealing with my chronic mild depression. Most people would never suspect that I can be a total Eeyore inside, despite my chronic optimism and playfulness. Thing is, most people mistake playfulness and hopefulness for happiness, which is not always the case. The first two are intentional mindsets, the last a little harder to come by.
At 11:30 I report to my job for the rest of the day. I love my kids, and I love working with them and watching them become improved people, but I do not always love my colleagues and I generally loathe the hoops through which we must make our children and ourselves jump. I am seriously in a funk about potential (inevitable) funding shortfalls which might cut my position altogether next year. I do not like the competitive and bitter me that this anxiety has brought to the surface. I am having to work REALLY hard to keep a smile on my face when I know that my performance as a teacher and my passion for teaching and learning mean nothing when it comes down to who will have a job next year and who will not. Then, that darn optimism sneaks in, and I know that all will be well and right for me and mine, no matter what. Then I feel like an ass for being so whiny. And so on...
I have a ton of work to do for a graduate project due Friday at 5PM, then PRAXIS for Social Studies (URG) on Saturday. Not feeling like working on either of those things, but really need to so as not to exacerbate the job-uncertainty situation. Both seem meaningless if I am not to be working next year, but something seems right and proactive about giving these tasks a valid and valiant effort, sooooo...
Husband is really feeling stressed on his job for the first time in a long time. His department is down a few heads and he isn't sure he'll get to replace the most recent departure. Couple that with two furloughs for everyone in his department, plus a pay reduction to boot, and he's crabby and anxious about work. He is working so hard and I am not really treating him nicely enough (I'm really busy with my aforementioned self-deprecation). Maybe we are looking at some big changes for us all. What the heck...we've gone a whole year without any real challenges, so maybe we're due.
Ooooh, and property taxes are due on the cars. Glad I opened THAT bill today.
The sewer people left us a nasty message today, as did the power company. We always have enough money for these things, just not always the proper motivation to get them paid in a timely fashion. GOT to get back in that mode of sitting down and updating the quicken and paying the bills... One more task for my morning "off" tomorrow to prevent those seemingly important utilities from being disconnected!
But, I have a crazy sweet dog, a beautiful family, and like I said, I love the kids I work with. My good neighbor-buddy has twins coming for me to bounce this summer and there will soon be a time to relax. (Won't there?) I have it much better than many, and I truly do recognize how fortunate I am, but I need to whine sometimes and I can't think of a better outlet than this blog!
Crikey. It's getting late and I have to hit the ground running tomorrow. Maybe the doctor will have some answers in little brown bottles for this pissy attitude I am feeling of late. Or maybe just this little venting will help. Either way, it's bedtime.
Good night.
2 comments:
Sheesh, Meesh! Normally if blogs are too long and there are no pictorials to look at, I tend to skip over them, but I was actually wondering how you be. Glad I read on. Of course I have no words of encouragement, except that which you already know- and that is that things happen for a reason and you will get out of the funk. That's why it's a funk and not a personality trait! So chin up- the weather is beatiful and we are ALL overweight, unless you are Sharon Shirley in which case you are shrinking!
Oh, honey. I love you. In early March I had to switch my depression medication, because I had gained 20 MORE pounds, and I couldn't stand it. And I had chest pain on the elliptical machine. So I changed my medicine to buproprion, which my new Dr. Oz book says "curbs cravings and may contribute to an up to 7% weight loss." woo hoo! I've lost 15 pounds. Then last Wednesday night, I was uncomfortable and afraid when I had fist-sized "discomfort" in the middle of my chest. When it was still there in the morning, I drove myself to the ER (yeah, I know) and ended up with an EKG, blood work, a chest x-ray, nitroglycerin (which was FABULOUS, by the way. I'd like a shot of that about 4:00 every afternoon) and a heart catheterization. I won the "crappiest day award", becausee nothing beats having your groin shaved and a catheter inserted up through your artery to your vein, by a guy you went to elementary school with and last saw at your 20 year high school reunion.
So that explained why I had backed into Kathleen's car in the driveway earlier that morning; I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack, and I was kind of distracted. When I told Michael I "kissed bumpers," he yelled, "You hit the car?!? G*d****t!!!" That was the last communication we'd had before I called him from the ER to tell him I was scheduled in the cath lab in 20 minutes. Can you say "contrite"? All is well now...it's just fat girl syndrome sneaking up on me.
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