Remember me? Probably not. It's been a long time. Looooooonnngggg time. I'm sure anyone who might have read my blog before has long since stopped reading this. Sorry. Really sorry. But at the same time, this thingie here just ceased to be a priority.
So what's been going on? Lots. I've met new people, been doing new things, been creating artwork again, trying to connect with my family, and going to therapy. There have been some stressful periods of late, mostly concerning possible career moves for my husband, but so far, none have panned out. Can't talk about it much on here, since he is uncomfortable with that. It's okay. No biggie.
I have successfully become a Weight Watchers lifetime member--that's good news! Very good news, in fact. It means I can attend meetings for free now, and that I've been maintaining my weight successfully now. I'm thinking it also means I should get a new tattoo, but they aren't normally FREE, so I will wait on that.
If you've noticed the annoying graphics here on this site, you'll also notice my work on Zazzle and Cafe Press. I hope anyone would appreciate the hours and hours and many sleepless nights put into these projects, lots of self-punishing pressure applied, and lots of stress . . . I've been working hard on these projects, and re-learning a lot about making artwork again. It's been like learning to walk again--the medications for depression and bipolar disorder really threw me for a loop when it came to creativity. I couldn't make art anymore. COULDN'T!! I didn't think it were possible, but put a pen in my hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of me, and I truly had no clue what to do. I could start to draw ANYWAY, and end up with . . . Well, either NOTHING or some shaky pointless scribbles that no one would be interested in seeing. It was frustrating, scary, confusing . . . And much more. It was not a good time for me. But I've been practicing making art again, and getting better at using my computer software, and getting better at seeing things creatively again. It's taken me a few solid months of work to get where I am now, so I hope it is understood why I haven't been here too often.
Also, I've been in therapy. This was an outlet at one point, now I don't seem to need it as much. And it felt for a while like I was getting no where with this, like no one cared what I wrote, that I couldn't make a difference. I guess I still feel that way a little bit, but that's not the ONLY reason for keeping this blog, so I hope to return more regularly. I will still be working hard on my artwork and there are transitions going on throughout the family that may distract me, but I will try.
I want to write a bit about what I've been up to, some of the people I've met and such, but I really need to get to bed. We are getting a bit tougher on the potty training thing--my son is almost four and not interested in even TRYING to use the potty--so we are going to have to try to be a bit tougher. I'm hoping it doesn't backfire on me. I mean, I've never done this whole potty training thing before! But what I've been doing hasn't been working, so it's time to switch tactics! Let's hope this works! I'd hate for him to go to his birthday celebration in diapers or training pants, but it's looking that way so far! I have just over a month to try.
Okay, time to try the sleep thing again. I've had so much on my mind, and my tummy isn't happy. It might be a kind of PMS, or my IBS acting up. Not sure. I just feel crampy. But, I digress.
'Night.
R
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insomnia. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Still no sleep.
I keep trying, but I guess I still have some anxiety over the pain in my abdomen. I just don't know what it is, and it's starting to make me panic a bit, I think. When it hurts as I'm trying to fall asleep, I start thinking of all of the things it could be, and then I can't sleep anymore. It's easy to let your fears get out of control, just as easy as it is to let your sadness take hold.
But I can try to get an appointment with my doctor soon, I have to wait and call the office tomorrow. Then lose sleep as I wait for the appointment, then panic as I wait for test results . . . I'm sure I won't be sleeping for a while.
Then I think I hear my son cry during the night, like his injection site is bothering him. I think maybe the Tylenol wore off, and he needs a new dose. But he slept fine, and took some Tylenol this morning. He's playing and rambunctious, as usual. But the mom instincts don't stop, the worry finds it's way into my daily life for a full 24 hours a day.
This is my definition of motherhood, by the way. Motherhood: A state of constant and intense worry, punctuated by moments of unimaginable emotional bliss. That's really what it is to me. The unprecedented bliss is what I live for, and it's worth all of the worry.
Well, that's my rambling for the day. Hope to hear from some people out there, just so I don't feel like I'm talking to myself or lost in cyberspace. No pressure, though. When you're ready. :)
Till then, take care. Blog ya later.
R
But I can try to get an appointment with my doctor soon, I have to wait and call the office tomorrow. Then lose sleep as I wait for the appointment, then panic as I wait for test results . . . I'm sure I won't be sleeping for a while.
Then I think I hear my son cry during the night, like his injection site is bothering him. I think maybe the Tylenol wore off, and he needs a new dose. But he slept fine, and took some Tylenol this morning. He's playing and rambunctious, as usual. But the mom instincts don't stop, the worry finds it's way into my daily life for a full 24 hours a day.
This is my definition of motherhood, by the way. Motherhood: A state of constant and intense worry, punctuated by moments of unimaginable emotional bliss. That's really what it is to me. The unprecedented bliss is what I live for, and it's worth all of the worry.
Well, that's my rambling for the day. Hope to hear from some people out there, just so I don't feel like I'm talking to myself or lost in cyberspace. No pressure, though. When you're ready. :)
Till then, take care. Blog ya later.
R
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I will (apparantly) never learn . . .
. . . You'd think I would have learned this by now, but I should never, ever, EVER watch tv programs about ghosts and the paranormal right before bedtime. Never.
I consider myself a sane person when on my medications, and a reasonable, intelligent person as well. I'm not sure what I believe is true about most paranormal experiences people claim to have. Many of them can be explained by other forces or even by the person's own brain chemistry. Hearing voices, seeing apparitions, and things of the sort can be explained by psychiatric hallucinations, electrical stimulations created by the movement of the earth's crust, and many other earthly phenomena. I've seen convincing documentaries that completely disprove the U.F.O. phenomenon entirely. And I think I was hoping it wouldn't be so convincing . . . But it was.
In the past, I've had what I would consider paranormal experiences. However, I would like to follow that by saying I have begun to doubt the veracity of those experiences simply because I have been diagnosed with psychiatric disorders that, in some cases, can cause mild hallucinations. When I was a pre-teen girl, I had an experience where I saw a toddler girl in my bedroom once I awoke from a dream. My parents liked me to think I was still dreaming, but I am convinced to this day that I was not. I completely believed the girl was there, since at the time I did not believe in ghosts or anything of the sort. I think I told myself that I just missed the doorbell and that my sister was having a surprise sleepover with one of the girls from her daycare class. I mean, there was a girl in the room--what else could it be? She looked as if she had awakened from a nightmare as she stared at me--seeking comfort from another child, I assumed. But as I approached the girl, reached out my hand to her shoulder, she vanished, suddenly and right before my eyes. I was terrified out of my mind, and slept the rest of the night under my blanket.
So, what do I make of this experience now? Not much. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I hallucinated. I really don't know. Maybe she was a ghost, but I can never be sure, especially now that I know what I now know about myself. But there are two experiences that I have yet to explain away.
The first was in the same house where I saw the child. My sisters and I were all watching television on a Saturday night, relaxing on the sofa while my parents slept in another room across the house. I don't remember what was happening at the time, but we were suddenly interrupted by the loud thumping sound of footsteps on the roof. We knew the sound well, since my grandfather and my dad frequently worked on the house while we lived there, fixing the tv antenna, installing central air and heat, and other projects. But this was late on a Saturday night, and my parents were asleep. They could not have opened a door without us hearing, since it was one of those old, creaky houses in an aging subdivision. You heard everything.
We stared at the ceiling, all of us, jaws slacked, asking each other if we knew what was happening. We could easily follow the path of the footsteps across the ceiling, heard them stop right above us, and clinking metal sounds like someone had set down a toolbox. I remember being overcome by fear, thinking that maybe someone was putting a bomb on our roof or something--hey, I was just a kid. But then the clinking stopped, and the footsteps resumed, crossing the remainder of the roof to the edge of the house. My sisters and I ran quickly to the window so that we could look upward and try to see if someone was looking over the edge of the roof so we could see who it was, but instead, we just heard a thump, right beneath us, on the grass right outside the window. We sat there in the window, staring at nothing, just a faded sound, on the lawn in front of us on the other side of the glass.
Next came the "did you just hear that?" and "did you hear what I just heard?" from the terrified children in the room, and we huddled on the sofa, frozen in fear for the rest of the night. My parents had no explanation for that one in the morning.
Another experience that I can't explain happened at the house where I used to work as a nanny. During the morning, before I had been diagnosed with hypothyroidism and had my extreme fatigue explained to me, I would nap in the parents bedroom. Often, but not every time I napped in that room, I would feel someone's hand touch my face in a tender and reassuring way. It was soothing, and I would feel like I could drift off to sleep without a care, then I would realize it was very VERY real, and that I wasn't yet sleeping or dreaming. I would sit up with a start, only to realize I was alone in the room. Time and time again this happened, and every time it felt so incredibly real I would think that the father of the kids had come home early and was attempting to wake me, not yet realizing that I hadn't fallen asleep yet. But I hadn't heard a door open, or heard footsteps . . . Then I would jolt upright and notice nothing in the room yet again.
I would discount these incidents entirely, were it not for something my sister said to me about a year after I had left that job. She asked me if I had ever felt like someone's hand touched my face before I fell asleep there . . . I said yes, then said it only happened in that particular bedroom, while she nodded knowingly. "And there was something about his fingertips," I said.
"Yes!" she shouted. "Like his fingers were calloused or something?"
I think I just stared at her for a while, then said, "Yes, or like his fingerprints were especially raised or something . . . I thought maybe it was something about his fingerprints."
"I thought maybe it was callouses," she said. But we had both touched on the same thing.
So, even if it was a vivid, realistic dream that occurs in light sleep, why did we both have the exact same dream? And why did we both have that dream in that one place, and never anywhere else? And then we never had the same dream again, ever, after leaving that job? Does it mean anything?
I don't know. So I'd like to have some paranormal experiences again, as a person who has undergone treatment and medication, just to see what I really believe, now that I consider myself sane. Maybe I should become a ghost hunter or something. It might be overly terrifying for me, but at least I would know it was real, for once. But then I'd never get any sleep . . .
Ever.
R
I consider myself a sane person when on my medications, and a reasonable, intelligent person as well. I'm not sure what I believe is true about most paranormal experiences people claim to have. Many of them can be explained by other forces or even by the person's own brain chemistry. Hearing voices, seeing apparitions, and things of the sort can be explained by psychiatric hallucinations, electrical stimulations created by the movement of the earth's crust, and many other earthly phenomena. I've seen convincing documentaries that completely disprove the U.F.O. phenomenon entirely. And I think I was hoping it wouldn't be so convincing . . . But it was.
In the past, I've had what I would consider paranormal experiences. However, I would like to follow that by saying I have begun to doubt the veracity of those experiences simply because I have been diagnosed with psychiatric disorders that, in some cases, can cause mild hallucinations. When I was a pre-teen girl, I had an experience where I saw a toddler girl in my bedroom once I awoke from a dream. My parents liked me to think I was still dreaming, but I am convinced to this day that I was not. I completely believed the girl was there, since at the time I did not believe in ghosts or anything of the sort. I think I told myself that I just missed the doorbell and that my sister was having a surprise sleepover with one of the girls from her daycare class. I mean, there was a girl in the room--what else could it be? She looked as if she had awakened from a nightmare as she stared at me--seeking comfort from another child, I assumed. But as I approached the girl, reached out my hand to her shoulder, she vanished, suddenly and right before my eyes. I was terrified out of my mind, and slept the rest of the night under my blanket.
So, what do I make of this experience now? Not much. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I hallucinated. I really don't know. Maybe she was a ghost, but I can never be sure, especially now that I know what I now know about myself. But there are two experiences that I have yet to explain away.
The first was in the same house where I saw the child. My sisters and I were all watching television on a Saturday night, relaxing on the sofa while my parents slept in another room across the house. I don't remember what was happening at the time, but we were suddenly interrupted by the loud thumping sound of footsteps on the roof. We knew the sound well, since my grandfather and my dad frequently worked on the house while we lived there, fixing the tv antenna, installing central air and heat, and other projects. But this was late on a Saturday night, and my parents were asleep. They could not have opened a door without us hearing, since it was one of those old, creaky houses in an aging subdivision. You heard everything.
We stared at the ceiling, all of us, jaws slacked, asking each other if we knew what was happening. We could easily follow the path of the footsteps across the ceiling, heard them stop right above us, and clinking metal sounds like someone had set down a toolbox. I remember being overcome by fear, thinking that maybe someone was putting a bomb on our roof or something--hey, I was just a kid. But then the clinking stopped, and the footsteps resumed, crossing the remainder of the roof to the edge of the house. My sisters and I ran quickly to the window so that we could look upward and try to see if someone was looking over the edge of the roof so we could see who it was, but instead, we just heard a thump, right beneath us, on the grass right outside the window. We sat there in the window, staring at nothing, just a faded sound, on the lawn in front of us on the other side of the glass.
Next came the "did you just hear that?" and "did you hear what I just heard?" from the terrified children in the room, and we huddled on the sofa, frozen in fear for the rest of the night. My parents had no explanation for that one in the morning.
Another experience that I can't explain happened at the house where I used to work as a nanny. During the morning, before I had been diagnosed with hypothyroidism and had my extreme fatigue explained to me, I would nap in the parents bedroom. Often, but not every time I napped in that room, I would feel someone's hand touch my face in a tender and reassuring way. It was soothing, and I would feel like I could drift off to sleep without a care, then I would realize it was very VERY real, and that I wasn't yet sleeping or dreaming. I would sit up with a start, only to realize I was alone in the room. Time and time again this happened, and every time it felt so incredibly real I would think that the father of the kids had come home early and was attempting to wake me, not yet realizing that I hadn't fallen asleep yet. But I hadn't heard a door open, or heard footsteps . . . Then I would jolt upright and notice nothing in the room yet again.
I would discount these incidents entirely, were it not for something my sister said to me about a year after I had left that job. She asked me if I had ever felt like someone's hand touched my face before I fell asleep there . . . I said yes, then said it only happened in that particular bedroom, while she nodded knowingly. "And there was something about his fingertips," I said.
"Yes!" she shouted. "Like his fingers were calloused or something?"
I think I just stared at her for a while, then said, "Yes, or like his fingerprints were especially raised or something . . . I thought maybe it was something about his fingerprints."
"I thought maybe it was callouses," she said. But we had both touched on the same thing.
So, even if it was a vivid, realistic dream that occurs in light sleep, why did we both have the exact same dream? And why did we both have that dream in that one place, and never anywhere else? And then we never had the same dream again, ever, after leaving that job? Does it mean anything?
I don't know. So I'd like to have some paranormal experiences again, as a person who has undergone treatment and medication, just to see what I really believe, now that I consider myself sane. Maybe I should become a ghost hunter or something. It might be overly terrifying for me, but at least I would know it was real, for once. But then I'd never get any sleep . . .
Ever.
R
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Did I say that?
I guess I did, because my boy repeated it back to me today. This is how it went:
I was getting ready to meet over at my in-laws when my son walked in the room. As a finishing touch, I decided to use a body spray that I had gotten a while ago at Bath and Body Works. As I'm misting the spray over my body, my son asks, "What, you don't smell too good today?"
I laughed at the unexpected question, then I think I just agreed with him. I must have said it once while I was using the spray once before, and I guess I told him that I used it when I don't smell good. I guess. I don't really remember. I'm not sure where he might have picked that up, though, except for me.
We ran around in the backyard for a little bit after we got home. For some reason, this reminded E of something he had seen on tv, and he told me, "The Mythbusters said, 'ahhh!' when the fire came up in the Mythbusters' house." Sounds like lots of episodes of Mythbusters! But I smiled and said, "Yeah!" with some mock enthusiasm. He liked this idea all of a sudden, and says, "We're the Mythbusters! We're the Mythbusters guys!" Of course, his idea of pretending to be the Mythbusters is just to keep running around the yard exactly as before, only occasionally reconfirming that we are indeed Mythbusters. Then he wanted to use the pooper scooper. Weird boy.
I can't sleep for some reason, so I thought I'd blog a bit. I should try again, though. Never give up! I'll catch that sleep! It can't hide from me forever! Sooner or later, it'll get tired. I'm watching and waiting . . . Then I'll catch some sleep.
Laters,
R
I was getting ready to meet over at my in-laws when my son walked in the room. As a finishing touch, I decided to use a body spray that I had gotten a while ago at Bath and Body Works. As I'm misting the spray over my body, my son asks, "What, you don't smell too good today?"
I laughed at the unexpected question, then I think I just agreed with him. I must have said it once while I was using the spray once before, and I guess I told him that I used it when I don't smell good. I guess. I don't really remember. I'm not sure where he might have picked that up, though, except for me.
We ran around in the backyard for a little bit after we got home. For some reason, this reminded E of something he had seen on tv, and he told me, "The Mythbusters said, 'ahhh!' when the fire came up in the Mythbusters' house." Sounds like lots of episodes of Mythbusters! But I smiled and said, "Yeah!" with some mock enthusiasm. He liked this idea all of a sudden, and says, "We're the Mythbusters! We're the Mythbusters guys!" Of course, his idea of pretending to be the Mythbusters is just to keep running around the yard exactly as before, only occasionally reconfirming that we are indeed Mythbusters. Then he wanted to use the pooper scooper. Weird boy.
I can't sleep for some reason, so I thought I'd blog a bit. I should try again, though. Never give up! I'll catch that sleep! It can't hide from me forever! Sooner or later, it'll get tired. I'm watching and waiting . . . Then I'll catch some sleep.
Laters,
R
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
