Happy New Year?

Well, here we are, it’s a new year.  I have ditched my iPad in favor of a Kindle Fire tablet gifted to me by Alison.  It’s become my new best friend and also made me extremely grateful for those who gift me.  I seriously couldn’t afford such tech or gadgetry for myself and I do appreciate it.

I love it and am especially happy that the keyboard I got for the iPad works with it as well.  I am, in fact, typing on it as we speak.  I play sudoku on it, read more on it, take it places with me, watch Pride and Prejudice endlessly on it while I do dishes, write on it and take pictures with it.  Eventually I’ll figure out how to text on it and then, oh boy, I’ll be set won’t I?  Unfortunately it also makes window shopping on Amazon even easier but hey, my wish lists can’t hurt me.

It’s snowing out there today and I’ve been thinking about so many things for future blogs.  My big, fat Israeli divorce.  My heart bleeding silently for Jerusalem.  My love for my fiance and home here under the permafrost.  How these two things can be compatible in my life – my two greatest loves which are so very far apart.  My son, who is growing up before me and how hard this is for us both.  How autism morphs and changes and we blaze new and unknown trails every day as he grows into such an amazing young man and I struggle, as always, to just keep up and continue to wonder why people praise me for being a great mom – really, it’s because he’s such a tremendous young man.

I’m crocheting now after my knitting just disgusted me to the point of giving it up for now although Knitpicks has my nickel plated interchangeables for sale and they’re really gnawing away at me.  I still harbor that intense hatred for Polish customs for throwing away my needles in case you’re still wondering.  Anyway, I am making a “starburst” square afghan which consists of a gabillion little kinda granny squares that are really little starbursts that will all hook together.  I need a gabillion and I think I have 17 done.  Tune in later for more on THAT one.

I’ve been baking bread that sometimes people eat and lately, most of the time they snub.  Along with most of my dinners.  Oh Scott eats everything and praises what I cook and since I cook as an art, that makes me happy but still.  I have a can of raspberry pie filling and a package of yellow cake mix….I’m thinking raspberry filled cupcaked for Shabbat this week.  If I feel like it, I MAY share them with the children.

Then again, maybe not.  Depends.

I spent most of December worrying because on the first night of Hanukkah I got a call about my old house – someone was interested in buying it.  It wasn’t in the greatest shape and really, not in the best location and honestly, I wanted to just get rid of it before someone torched it.  The median sales price for what I had was less than $20,000 so I was happy with what we negotiated and I agreed to a sales price.  Talk about a Hanukkah miracle.  Most houses where my house was are on the market for 3-5 years and houses like mine?  Usually just abandoned.  So…being the worrier I am, I worried until the sales contract was signed and then I worried until the closing because I knew it would either fall through, there would be some wild lien I couldn’t even fathom or someone would torch it before we could get pen to paper.  I asked everyone I could think of for prayers and prayed as much as I could and to my own surprise on 31 December, we closed quickly, easily and with no fanfare.  Just signed the papers, said “Well, that’s that”, said goodbye to the ex, and walked away.  I never felt so relieved in my life.

I set about paying off debts I never thought I could pay off – I can’t even describe the feeling.  I have been so poor for so long and remain poor even after everything is now settled but I know that I am building a better life that hopefully will reveal itself.

Miracles are afoot and I bask in them.  I learned a long time ago that sometimes the only thing you can do is ride the tide of the miracles and just let HaShem do his thing and take you where you’re meant to go.  Fighting it really doesn’t get you anywhere and to be honest, basking in the glow of miracles is a pretty amazing feeling.  I recommend you try it.

I still feel anxious and, I hate to say it, depressed.  Maybe it’s the winter time even though I enjoy this time.  I think maybe depression isn’t even the right word.  Sometimes tired seems more like the right word.  Like life just makes me tired.  The happys aren’t as sparkly but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel happy, it’s like Scott said to me one evening when I was watching something funny on tv – “why aren’t you laughing?”  I was amused, just not enough to make me laugh out loud.  It’s hard to describe.  I suppose it’s like you can see the sun but it’s just not sparkly sunshine.  The sky is not a birdsegg blue.  You just DO, you don’t BE.  I can’t explain but that’s how I feel about it.  Sometimes I wish I could just sleep all day but I can’t.  I know that that’s what keeps me getting up each day.  If it weren’t so cold out, I’d be walking.  Routine powers my day but it doesn’t mean it’s any less exhausting just going about the routine of life.  And I am okay with it.  The routine gets me up and moving and I try to make little bits to look forward to, to break up the monotony of the routine….but the exhaustion and boredom remain.  Maybe someday it will change.  Right now, I just don’t see that.

So anyway, if I haven’t depressed you to death or bored you silly, happy new year to you.  Have you made any resolutions?  I used to when I was little.  I’d make – wait or it….schedules and routines for me to follow.  Now, not so much.  I make changes as I go…I don’t necessarily see calendar dates as the big time to decide to change my life.  This year I will be walking a 5k at the Pittsburgh Marathon and I am raising money for Evan’s Miracle League baseball team that allows kids with special needs to play adaptive baseball  (DONATE HERE) which is one of the most worthwhile things I can think of EVER doing so I am training for that.  And as usual I am doing random acts of kindness like carrying my emergency dollar to help people with change at the grocery store, helping out when I can (like bringing in trash cans when people are at work and it’s windy) and just trying to be a better human being this year.

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Settling In

Up to this point, I have been rebuilding my own life from the ground up. Rebuilding inside and outside. Therapy has helped on the inside and for the outside I have acquired shoes and clothes and lots of books and yarn.

This week I have taken a new step in the rebuilding process.

I had some of my furniture still left in my old house. It hurts me so much to be there that I cry tears of such pain every time we have to go there. Scott and I had planned to get the boys to help and on Thursday this week, we would move my cherished furniture from my old house to my new house — the house Scott and I share.

I was entirely too upset to be a part of the “festivities” so I stayed home and worried myself into a migraine and upset stomach while the move was made but I was so happy when they arrived home and everything was brought inside.

We celebrated with pizza and donuts and by putting our bed together last night. We couldn’t get the box springs up the steps (they say that love grows best in small houses but come on!) but we still had the slats under the mattress so until we can get a set of separated box springs, it works.

In the meantime, there’s a lot more storage space which after rebuilding with clothes and shoes and books and yarn, I need a LOT of. AND there’s a lot of organizing, rearranging and homemaking to do.

And that, I think is the next step in my rebuilding. When I was out shopping last evening, I looked at tablecloths and bedspreads and dishtowels instead of clothes and cute socks. I think I am moving onto thinking of things around me and outside of myself.

I am moving onto making my house into my home and that’s a huge step forward for me…a long way from where I was two years ago and yet, a long way still from where I hope to be in two years.

There is a difference though that is the key. This time around I have dreams and I see myself in them.

Sore Fingers Today

I have severe hypoglycemia.  It’s a real bitch too because I have had two grand mal (tonic-clonic) seizures from it and I live in absolute fear that I’ll have a really bad low, won’t be home and I’ll have a seizure.  I blame my 30# weight gain on it AND my food addiction.  I just worry that I won’t be able to keep it steady so I eat all the time OR it drops and I eat and then it drops unexpectedly and I eat and well, you get the picture. 30# later if I am not full ALL THE FREAKING time, I panic.

It’s a sad way to live.

I finally decided I had to see an endocrinologist and I decided to go the distance and see the one I’d been seeing before I left for Israel.  In some ways it was a good choice because he had my records from 2010 when I was there for (go ahead and guess) hypoglycemia although it wasn’t so good because his middle name is NOT bedside manner.

He told me that my failed glucose tolerance test meant absolutely nothing to him (thanks, I drank that nasty ass orange crap and had a 40 low for nothing then) and that I’d have to go “make nice” with the lab and then get myself into a bad situation (read: nasty low) and go get gallons of blood drawn for half a gabillion weird tests that no one has ever heard of.

And that’s not exaggerating because when I went and made nice with the lab (good tactic if I do say so because….) they hadn’t even HEARD of two of tests and had to call their regional HQ to get the coding for them and even the regional HQ had to look them up.  Even THEN they couldn’t identify two others without calling the doctor AGAIN for guidance.

The supervisor at the lab keyed it all in and then told me that when I hit that “sweet spot” and had a good low to get myself in pronto and they’d take me right away.

So…I talked to him last week when he called me to tell me not do strenuous exercise before one of the tests (really?) and assured himthat today would be the day.  Actually it had to BE the day since it was the only day when poor Scott wasn’t running everyone back and forth all over Gd’s creation to doctor’s appointments and whatnot.

This morning I got up and started off with toast with apple butter.  When Scott got up at 7:30 I was at 180.  We talked about when we wanted to have to low hit and I knew it would happen about an hour after I ate something so terrible it couldn’t even be classified as food.

In this case it was going to be two packages of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls (I am gagging even as I write this.)

So…Scott went to get his hair cut and I sat in the car and ate 3 of the 4 rolls.  There was no way for love or money you could get me to eat that 4th roll.  I was almost ready to just hurl it all out and I couldn’t imagine anyone ever eating more than one package of these even though I know there are those who do (and I am NOT judging) – all I wanted as a hash brown or something that didn’t taste like crusted sugar and chocolate to cleanse my overloaded palate.

But…I had to suck it up.

So we went to pay the insurance, get Scott’s license picture taken and do some shopping at the grocery store which is where I hit the sweet spot.

I knew it when I couldn’t see anymore so we scurried into line, paid even though there was a HUGE error on our receipt and ran out and across the parking lot to the lab.  I was shaking and in a sweat.  I checked my glucose and I was at 50.  I knew we were on borrowed time before my liver decided to take some of my fat and send it northward to my pancreas so we ran in and wrote RUSH on the signin.  Scott even told the tech that his wife needed to be drawm immediately for her blood sugar before she had a seizure!

HUZZAH!

That pulled me past two folks who were there with appointments who weren’t really pleased with my cutting line (I am SOOOO sorry…really) even though I sort of had an appointment which I sort of made three weeks ago sort of but hey, they wouldn’t have known that would they?  Sorry again.

Once we were done I was STARVING so I had a 7 layer burrito and a taco (now you know why I am FAT) and went to my therapy appointment.

I have to admit my fingers are sore from all the finger sticks I did today.  I have hit three lows since that induced one and I know the rest of the week will suck until I can get a good diet of fruit, veg and protein back into my system.  But strangely that’s okay.

I know that I still could have a seizure but I also know that MAYBE this time something can be done.  MAYBE something WILL be done.  When I was in Israel my endocrinologist put me on acarbose and that worked really well.  I’d like to do something like that again.  Something that will keep me steady.  Then I can get on a good, low calorie diet…more activity including my daily 5k…and hopefully kick my metabolism back into gear.

So…while I may have very sore fingers today..I also have hope.  I think it’s a fair trade off.  I’ll keep you posted.

What Makes You Happy

It’s easy to write a blog post about those things that make me unhappy…and Lord knows I have written a lot of those lately.  But what about those things that make me happy?  I know it shouldn’t be that hard so why don’t I write more about them?  Tonight I plan to do just that.

Sometimes when I am in the abyss it’s hard to think of anything that would make me really HAPPY.  I mean what IS happiness anyway?  But the reality is I know what happiness is.  Happiness is beig with my son even when he’s rambing away for the gabillionth time about exacting revenge on the unsuspecting victim of the day as his alter ego, the Oera Ghost.  Happiness is looking at my two freaky dogs when they are sleeping and wanting to hug and kiss them.  Happiness is listening t o “I’m Just a Gigilo” at the end of my walk when I am on my way home.  Happiness is hugging Scott when he comes home from work.

See?  That’s not so hard.

Happiness is knowing Shabbat is right around the corner.  Happiness is being an Israeli citizen and aving had the greatest experience in my life of living in Jerusalem with my son.  Happiness is having a warm home and a soft bed and heat and air conditioning and a mixer to make cookies with.  Happiness is having running water.  Really.

Happiness is having a best friend who listens when the going gets rough and who isn’t afraid to say, hey, listen to ME when I get lost in myself.  Happiness is being safe.  Happiness is being loved.

There are so many things to be happy about.  Probably way more than there are to be sad or angry about but sometimes it seems that the bad things seem so enormous and overwhelming.  At least to me they can be consuming.

I hope that when I am down or sad or overwhelmed I’l remember to come back to this post or even just to my private journal and be happy in the moment because there are so many happys to put the bads in their place.

The Apology That Never Came

I am so sorry that I spread a story about you.  It doesn’t matter whether it was true or not.  I should have thought more about where it would go and what it would do to you in the future.  Oh, I knew it would hurt you which is precisely what I intended for it to do because yes, you did hurt me and yes, I know you did apologize and yes, I did accept your apology.  But that was long after I told the story.

Now I want to ask YOUR forgiveness.  Can you forgive me?  I can never take back to story and I can never give you back the friends I took from you or the reputation I stole from you as I spun a story designed to make me look like a martyr.  I mean, isn’t that how everyone tells a story when they feel victimized?

I know there were lots of stories to be told during our time together and many times you didn’t tell them and I thank you for that.  You never made a point to make me look like a bad person on purpose even though I know you had your support people and I know you told them….you told me you did and I knew that telling them was like telling a wall.  It never went anywhere.

But what I told had legs and still has legs.  I’m sorry I can’t get it back.  I stopped telling it because it doesn’t do anything for me anymore but I know others still get something out of it and for them, it’s just another day of personal satisfaction for them to continue to wallow in it.  They always hated you and this just keeps that fire going.  I wish it didn’t because, really?  To be honest?  I’m about as tired of it as you are.  I want to move on too.

I liked being the victim for a long time but now even I want to do something else but when they say karma sneaks around to bite you in the ass?  They’re right.  So while I can apologize to you, I can never make this one right.  It’s like a game of telephone gone wrong.  What you did happened and it was over.  What I did is like a stone in the ocean….and it never, ever ends and sadly, I didn’t anticipate that.

So please forgive me.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for you and I am sorry for me.  I am really sorry that this just won’t stop.

I’m sorry too.  For me, it wont’t stop until I die.  Tragically, I do know how you feel and unfortunately, I don’t feel all that sorry for you.

The Biggest Disappointment

I have been thinking a lot the past few days.  Usually this leads to a very dark place that I have a hard time coming back from.  I so very don’t want to ever go back to that place ever again.  Often when I find myself headed to this place these days, I just shut down the thoughts and go to my happy place and lalalalalala…..it doesn’t matter anymore.

But sometimes the dark side creeps up on me.

What I am thinking about is my biggest disappointment.  That, of course, is and always will be having to leave Jerusalem.  Despite all of the wonderful things that have happened since, and I don’t want to say they are any less amazing or wonderful, leaving that city will always be the biggest disappointment of my life and one I can never fix.

Of course that leads directly to a situation of lashon harah (something very bad which was said about me by someone else to many people, regardless of whether it was true or not, who then believed it carte blanche without question because the person telling them wanted them to – take it from me, as our sages say, the evil tongue, lashon harah, does kill a person when it spreads and it never should.)

The worst case of this spread of lashon harah is when it was told to my father.  Today I had to accept that without question, without asking me, without any doubt whatsoever, my father believed it.  I had to accept today how very much this has hurt me…how truly deeply it sears my soul to not be believed by my very own father and worse, to have him automatically believe the worst of me without ever even conceiving that he should even believe the better.

This takes me back to when I was 17 years old and some piece of scum walked into my father’s nightcluband told him I was “the best he ever had.”  My father came home and beat the living shit out of me with a razor strap.  It happened without warning so quickly I barely even knew WHY I was being beaten and defense?  Absolutely none.  And mercy.  Really?  I was guilty without a trial.

And that’s how it remains today.

Guilty without a trial.  It’s just like it was when I was 17 – and my father’s opinion of me has never changed.  For a man who molested me, this is actually….well, I don’t even know what it is.

Today I had to accept all of this.  And obviously I need to act on it but I don’t have any idea what to do.  I didn’t have therapy so I didn’t have a chance to talk to my therapist – that will have to wait a week.  In the meantime, I am just going to process it and not worry about what to do about it.  I am going to let it sit there.  I am not going to roll it over and over and ride with it under my arm to the dark place.  I’ll just wait a while until I can talk to Kellye and then I’ll know what to do and I’ll act on it and send it on it’s way.

This is something I really don’t want to think about.

This is betrayal at it’s very worst.  It’s betrayal, lies, deceit, it’s a whle lifetime of what I had built up in my mind as support from my father that never was and all that “never was” just crumbled away….I guess.

But as unreal as all of that was – the hurt is VERY real.  I am devastated.  I am shot through with devastation.  I am lying on the floor, curled up in my grief for what I thought existed and never did.  I am once again afraid to trust, afraid of people, afraid of the world.

And I know it had led to both a setback and a step forward.  Hopefully they will cancel each other out.

Time will only tell.v

Rosh HaShanah: Pride

I am so afraid of new situations.  It’s not new to me.  I guess I always have been my entire life.  I remember hiding behind curtains when I’d have to meet someone new when I was a very little girl.  I made my mom take me to the first day of school until my sophomore year in college for fear of things like the school bus stop, the school bus itself and walking into the building for the first time, roommates and just new things.  I actually became anorexic when I was interviewing for becoming an exchange student during my sophomore year, nearly killing myself with anxiety on top of the hell and horrors that went on in my house.

This fear continued on into college and still continues.  I would get sick on the first day of a new job or a new experience like joining a new club or group even though it was something I wanted to do.

It’s just always been this way.

And now that I have other more serious phobias, my social phobia has turned into full-blown agoraphobia, although very specialized and very defined.  It’s very, very real.

Last night was the evening service for the first night of Rosh HaShanah and I decided we would go.  I told Scott not to listen to any excuse I made short of a cerebral haemorrhage and me in the ER.

Scott has to work today and I also figured it was dark (it’s easier for me to do something in the dark) and we had every little step planned out.

We planned getting there REALLY early so we’d have a parking spot in the parking lot.  I’d wear clothes I was comfortable in and we would be hyper prepared.  I even called the temple early in the morning to just scope out the parking since it was what was really stressing me out.

I was ready.

I made a really festive dinner.  Cooking calms me so I made roasted curry chicken with apples, wild rice pilaf with apples, sweet and sticky green beans and apple cake along with gala apples and honey.  It helped because it turned out absolutely perfect, delicious and right on time.

Scott and Evan looked fantastic.  I was in a skirt that I felt good in, a sweater and a pashmina shawl.  I felt good.

Of course we forgot our tickets but we got them and still arrived in time to snag a space in the parking lot.  We backed in.  I took a klonopin so I’d be really calm and okay.

And it all worked out better than I could have hoped.

I cried throughout parts of the service as I felt Gd welcoming me and His love wrapping around me and the angels, Michael, Gabriel (especially), Uriel and Rafael surrounding me to keep me safe and there.

Scott was beside of me and I felt him there as I leaned against him.  It wasn’t overly crowded and people didn’t really bother me although the gentleman in front of us wished us a “happy new year.”  I replied “Shana Tova” and he smiled at me.

I thought the organ and choir would bother me as I tend to be more traditional but it was really, really nice and I loved it.  I felt at home.  The rabbi felt perfect for me.

Next week for Yom Kippur I am ready to go back.

I wish we could go Saturday for services but I know it’s all baby steps and that going for Kol Nidre and the next day may be more than my weak neshamale could handle and I don’t want to tank myself before I am ready even though I feel enthusiasm.

I am happy and I feel good.  I am proud of myself.

I did it.  And IT was huge for me.