Diet, shmiet … I know.*snork*

A month ago my Dad had a heart attack and spent about a week in the hospital. He actually died 3 times. Died. Flat-ass coded. Luckily his mistress was there the one time to do CPR, otherwise he would have been found really dead some unknown time later in the bathroom. (Nice. *roll eyes*)

The best place to sort this unexpected turn of events out was on a trail.

And somewhere out in the woods, sitting on a rock, beneath the bluff, watching the sunshine glitter and sparkle between the green leaves on the trees, I realized … I’m letting life pass me on by. And even worse yet, I’m letting life pass me by WHILE I’M UGLY.

No, no, no, no, no …….. that is not okay with me. It’s bad enough to be mentally semi-broken. But I realized I am putting things in my mouth that are making (or keeping) me fat, and that when I look in the mirror, the girl who looks back at me is UGLY. And I hate that. I HATE that.

So I decided, I was thin and pretty once upon a time. In fact, I don’t even recognize myself in pictures from college *blush* that girl looks nothing like I look today. And I want to be the pretty girl again. I want to be a Trophy Wife! And to become a Trophy Wife ………. I must lose weight.

(Never mind the getting married part. I have a feeling once I fix the things that are broken inside of me, the rest of the outside stuff will fall into place.)

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Today I was following a car with interesting plates, “AK CRAB” … as I am the nation’s absolute #1 fan of Deadliest Catch :) I thought, gosh, maybe it’s Sig! (OK, I knew it wasn’t Sig, but maybe it was someone else? You never know.)

The car turned off in Ellison Bay. Wanting to get a good look at the (crab-fisherman-looking) driver, I knew I would have to go around the block so that our vehicles would meet driver-to-driver, and then I could get a good look at the fellow and see if it was anybody I knew.

This required I drive down The Road past the (now rebuilt) exploded duplex. However, at the chance to see Sig (LOL) or another crab fisherman that I dearly admire, I decided it was worth it. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Not everybody has “AK CRAB” license plates, you know.

So I turned in at the next road, then turned left on The Road, and approached The Place where the buildings Blew Up. Every time I go through there, I view it through the lens of that night … I see trees standing in the same place they stood That Night …. I see the outdoor fireplace standing where it stood That Night … the road curves exactly like it did That Night … everything is seen through the sights burned in my brain from That Night. I don’t see it free-standing as today; I see it in comparison to That Night.

Anyway.

First I drove past the blown-up building, but I looked at the water and the boats in the harbor instead.

Next came the building next door, the one that the siding melted off of. On the far half of the duplex, a middle-aged man laid out on one of the front porch benches. He was bald, tanned, wearing just swim trunks. And he was just laying there, out on the bench.

My breath caught in my throat. Oh my God! I thought. My eyes were big and I was gaping at this guy. Doesn’t he know the danger? Doesn’t he know how he could get hurt there???

I was floored. Absolutely boggled. How could he just lay there out in the open, in the blast zone? Like nothing was going on? *blink*

Of course, the beach towels and flip-flops on all four front porches suggested that nothing was going on. People were “around” these buildings and apparently they were all blissfully unaware. But I knew what they didn’t know. I knew the danger was real, because I had seen the evidence — I had seen it exploded. For real.

* * *

Still reeling at people just milling around unprotected in the blast zone (un-freakin’-real) I rounded the corner to find Alaska crab fisherman car, and a 30-ish man had gotten out, with a cute little boy in tow. On the other side his very pretty wife was walking with an adorable little girl. I did not recognize the man as anybody from Deadliest Catch. I even tried to envision the fellow in full-length rain gear… still no dice.

Later, at home, it finally dawned on me that that man sunbathing on the porch was so relaxed and unprotected because now, today, in 2008, there is no danger there. It is safe. Nothing is exploded and nothing is going to explode. He could lay out on that bench nearly buck-naked and not worry about getting hit by flying debris, because there is no debris.

However, I have a complete and total disconnect with that concept.

I still feel acute danger — tangible, present, run-for-cover danger. I see the blast zone. I know how building parts can fly and where people would get hit (depending on where they were standing). And I get the hell out of there anytime I am anywhere near it. I’m not stupid. It blew once, I know it could blow again, at any time. With no warning. Just like last time. When it did happen.

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A symptom which I have assigned to PTSD (as PTSD is the main mental operative in my life) that has developed in the last 15 months, is clenched joint muscles.

Not skeletal muscles, as that would be like back spasms? I don’t have back spasms.

But my left hip, the internal muscles which keep the femur pulled up into the pelvis, squeeze tight. Not the external buttock muscles. The internal ones. The result is that the femur is pushed up into the cartilage and joint constantly, and the hip joint (in my pelvis) becomes really sore. Not so much sore to walk on, but it hurts particularly bad to lay on.

Although I’ll describe it to my family that “my hip is spasming up again,” it’s not really a spasm, because spasms are involuntary. This is voluntary, but controlled subconsciously; It’s not like I choose to do it, like picking my nose! It just happens.

But “spasm” closely describes the tension and tightness of the muscles that are clenched up. It closely describes the fact I am not trying to tense up my hip. And after 20 or 30 minutes, the whole joint just aches.

I try to be aware of it, and consciously relax the whole hip joint. However I’ll catch it and do this relaxation exercise easily 30+ times an hour.. sometimes several times a minute. It’s a constant battle with this subconscious thing that keeps tightening the muscles up. And I do the whole awareness-relaxation thing because if I don’t, if I left the joint stay spasmed up, it is unbelievably sore for days. At its worst, I haven’t been able to even sit on the hip. Give that whirl in real life … NOT!

So I am perpetually distracted by checking whether my hip is tightened up, then stopping whatever I’m working on and focusing on forcing the muscles and whole joint to relax. Then I go back to whatever I was thinking about.

The net result is, I am constantly distracted, and inefficient, and I often forget what I was doing, or what I was thinking about. This makes even checking or acting on emails impossible at times… I can’t follow a thought process through. It is supremely annoying, and leaves me feeling incapable.

Just when I think I have things under control … I’m learning that I’m still learning where my limits are. And it’s sort of like a game of whack-a-mole. The limit is constantly jumping around. One day it’s right close to where I’m sitting, and I swear, 5 minutes later, it’s 2 miles out and below the horizon, I can’t even see it. Lordy is that frustrating. I mean, sit still so I know what to count on!

I’ve been triggered several times while on Wellbutrin, but this was the first time that I’d been triggered by old family issues. I didn’t know I wasn’t King of that mountain emotionally, and I didn’t know the Same Old Crap™ could trigger me. So now I know.

The fact that it triggered me through the Wellbutrin, tells me that it is a pretty strong trigger, and I need to treat all the classic Same Old Crap™ family issues with a good dose of distance. The farther away I can stay from that B.S., the better.

The fact that it triggered me through the Wellbutrin is also another big fat sign on the wall that MY PTSD IS ALIVE AND WELL. Dammit. Why won’t it just freakin’ go away already?!?!?!?

Stupid thing.

Wellbutrin is a keeper!! Given all the horror stories I’ve read in the last 3 weeks, I can’t believe I’m doing so well on it.

I mean, people have posted a lot of bad reviews online. But I’m starting to wonder if it’s like anything else… 10x as many people will report a bad experience than will post a good experience… complainers are louder than happy people… and then we have that pesky one-size-never-fits-all that goes on with anti-depressants in general. ADs are such a flukey thing. The effects are so variable person-to-person. So I feel like I hit the jackpot, just for not wanting to off myself. :-P

The side-effects I reported the first week (the Day 4 post) have all but disappeared. All side-effects were gone within 2 weeks.

The longest, and most difficult for me, were the insomnia and restlessness… but they did both go away abruptly at about Day 10. The intestinal irregularities *ahem* have been highly annoying, but things are moving again without *ahem* pharmaceutical intervention. :) The only noticeable symptom that continues is sensitivity to pain, and that is slowly lessening with time. Key word being slowly. But even that is not near as bad as it was a week ago. A week ago, I wanted to cut off darn near every joint in my body…

The obvious effect, anti-depressant, is working just fine. I think that if I was in normal circumstances, I would feel great. Unfortunately I am surrounded by a very messy house (which aggravates and distracts the crap out of me, and about which I feel overwhelmed and incapable) and I am facing foreclosure on my business real estate. Intellectually I am glad to give the bank that worthless troublesome piece of sh*t, I am glad to have that ugly sore out of my life; but emotionally I carry a mountain of shame and embarrassment. I constantly wonder what people in town must think of me, how they look down on me. That I am a dismal and utter failure. And that, that’s a desperate, crushing weight to carry.

I keep reminding myself I did the best I could do at the time. I have gone back and picked apart my circumstances of the last 4 years, bit by bit, decision by decision, and I keep coming to the same conclusions I did then. I made the best choices with the circumstances I was given. I did the best I could do. If I had to do it all over again, I can’t find where I would make any changes. Changing the outcome now would have meant deeply hurting, and perhaps causing the death of, my own family.

There’s no way in hell a piece of frickin’ real estate is worth that. No way, ever. If people are going to be so insensitive (and shallow) to not understand that, they probably aren’t people I want in my life anyway. They probably aren’t going to enrich or participate in anything constructive, or helpful. So they can go squat on their opinion.

But you know, it’s hard to remember all that. It’s a lot easier to focus on the ignorant, inexperience-borne negative pre-judgments I’ve had about foreclosure and business failure for most of my young life. Doesn’t seem to matter they’re not valid… those thought patterns are believable because they are comfortable, like old jeans, I’ve worn ‘em a long time. Which is not a good reason to keep ‘em. It’s a constant, constant struggle.

If it weren’t for that colossal junk weighing me down — which I think anyone would agree, is pretty major-sized — I think I’d probably be in pretty fair shape on the current meds. I just don’t see how meds can erase circumstances. I really believe stress and depression are not unusual responses considering the circumstances. This isn’t little stuff.

It is unfortunate we were blanketed in 10 inches of snow yesterday, impeding access to the dumpster (let alone the car)… then again maybe I am just looking for excuses not to clean, eh? ;) It’s not as if there aren’t 50 million other things to clean/do… ##

With reasonable trepidation, I started Wellbutrin XL 150 mg daily per my Doc’s instructions to treat depression, which in turn will, of course, lessen some of my PTSD symptoms as well (as they do seem to go hand-in-hand, especially in terms of thought processes).

I’m already taking Paxil 20 mg/day and Metoprolol 25 mg/day. The metoprolol is probably going to be increased to 50 mg/day due to my increased weight… and hopefully will be decreased again as I lose weight. But that’s another topic entirely. ;)

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It would seem I’ve successfully fought off the shingles!

I reported unreachable, incessant, maddening itching in this post. It started at 1 AM Monday, and went for 12 hrs straight. It was still there, although greatly diminished (due to meds), at my 1 PM Dr.’s appt. At the appt, it had changed to half itch, half burning.

The Dr. didn’t prescribe any anti-virals, to my surprise, because he said they are just as effective until 3 days after the rash shows up. Oh!, I said… and given the timing, I still had 5-7 days before the rash would show up… which meant up to 10 days to get on the anti-viral. So if it wasn’t shingles, Read the rest of this entry

I am not proud to admit I’m voluntarily not attending my EMT refresher tonight, because a part of me is taunting the phrase "skipping class" in that slacker way. As in, I’m skipping class because I am lazy and would rather kick back with some beers and watch TV.

But I am not lazy, my TV is off, and I have no beer.

It all comes down to comfort level. Which is not to say, "it’s more comfy here in my jammies than bundled in a coat outside" but rather whether I am feeling strong enough to put myself in a situation that makes my heart pound and skin crawl in fear.

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Tonight on 20/20 was a piece about a storm chaser, Jim Reed (you can apparently find his work at UltimateChase.com) who together with his chase partner, actively seeks out crazy weather of all kinds… hurricanes, tornadoes, thunderstorms, flooding, winter storms, etc.

He has, as you might expect, accumulated quite a collection of breathtaking video and still photos.

He has also developed PTSD, and is “receiving treatment” for it. The news piece cited some heart-wrenching circumstances as being difficult for him — hearing people trapped and crying for help when he physically could not help them, for instance. Completely and totally understandable; that’d screw anybody in the head for a while.

What I find odd though, is that he keeps going back.

The first tenet of treating PTSD is to remove yourself from the source. Read the rest of this entry

So far, so good, no news. The New Chapter Holy Basil and Stress Advantage have been easy on my stomach. I take them with my meds, and I also split my vitamins in half every day w/ my meds (half in the morning, half in the evening) so I just added them to that regime.

I also have come down with a virus that is going around, it’s not a traditional sore throat/head cold/cough sort of thing… it’s a creeping crud sort of thing that sneaks up on you, 4 weeks of intermittent intestinal cramps, headaches, misc. abdominal unhappiness, and bouts of super-tiredness. I hadn’t heard of anybody puking with it, but I did, and puked up the herbals this morning. One word: YUCK!!!! Those things are freakin’ nasty to puke up. OMG, I’m getting nauseous just thinking about it.

I did notice in the shower today, that my face has this sort of film or residue on it… kind of how it feels if you haven’t showered in a couple of days?? like a layer of dirt and dead skin. Except I have been showering every day, and I soak my face with a wet, hot wash cloth and then scrub it in the shower with cloth & soap. In a couple years’ time with this daily ritual in the shower, I’ve never had this filmy residue build up. On the contrary, my face comes out super-squeaky clean!! But today, it really hurt to scrub it, like the filmy layer didn’t want to come off. Owww!! I don’t know if that’s a side-effect of something I’m taking??? I put some shea butter on it tonight and will switch to Aloe gel tomorrow. (That stuff cures everything!!)

Otherwise, given that I am sick, and being sick royally f***s up one’s head no matter what… it’s really impossible to say if the herbals are helping. Earlier this week I was thinking that they were? but now I’m like, nuh-uh, no way. And they suck to puke up. ##