the holidays aren't always jolly

There's so much pressure (both internal and external) to have a perfect holiday celebration.  And I'm constantly bombarded by other people's exquisite holiday decorations, while mine are severely lacking.  And I'm bombarded by my memories of past perfect celebrations. 

It all can be very overwhelming and depressing.  I had a great Thanksgiving, and I'm anticipating a pretty good Christmas.  And yet, I've cried several times in the past few days just because.

Please remember as you go about throwing your holiday cheer everywhere that plenty of people around you are suffering, even if we don't show it.  Be extra kind right now.  It will cost you only a little and may pay off to an order of magnitude.

ich bin dankbar

yo estoy agradecida.

tha mi taingeil.

I am grateful.

I recently learned how to say that in three other languages.

It helps me to deal with my anxiety and nonsense if I can focus on my gratitude.  I'm celebrating Thanksgiving in the cold Midwest, for which I am grateful.

I'm grateful that I was invited and made to feel welcome.  I'm grateful that I have sufficiently warm clothes (I hope!!) so my Floridian blood doesn't freeze.

I'm grateful I got to see snow last night and this morning!!  And then go inside because it's fucking cold!!

I'm grateful that I can fly back to Florida after a few days of dreary Winter weather and bask in sunshine for my soul.

sunshine for mood lifting

Apparently half of the country is getting snow now.  This photo is to add some sunshine to your life.

 

 

Sunday Night Dreads

I'm not sure why I still get the Sunday Night Dreads, but it hit me so hard last night.  I'm assuming it's CPTSD from childhood since it's not really applicable now, but who fucking knows.  

I tried everything I could think of to calm myself.  I watched a sappy, happily-ever-after movie.  I took extra magnesium.  I took melatonin.  I imbibed medicinal alcohol.  I tried calling a friend.  I tried reading a book.  I tried listening to an audiobook.  Nothing assuaged that feeling of my body (and mind?) not feeling right.  I don't even have the vocabulary to describe it, except that I felt wrong physically.

I woke up this morning with a migraine, so maybe last night's condition was part of the prodromal stage.

  

 

trick or treat

I went with my friend and her kids to the mall to trick or treat.   It was quite an experience.  I haven't seen a mall that crowded since Christmas Eve.  And not just any Christmas Eve.  20 years ago Christmas Eve.  It was really packed.  And loud.  

I ate a few chocolates because they were from Godiva.  Who can say no to that?  Between the sugar (three tiny chocolate bites), the noise, and the mall scents, I ended up getting a migraine.  But it may have been worth it.  It was adorable to see her kids experiencing their first Halloween.  They were so excited to run up to strangers and ask for candy.  That's a fucked up tradition, huh?

I also experienced the split second moment of panic when I lost sight of them in the throngs of screaming kids and milling people.  It would be so easy to snatch a kid there.  I guess you can't live with that kind of fear because the odds are pretty small, right?  And the rewards outweigh the risks.  They had a blast playing with other kids and seeing all the fun stuff that the mall setup for them.  I have to say I thought it sounded lame taking kids to the mall to trick-or-treat, but I've changed my mind.  Climate control and bright lighting is kinda nice.

One of the jewelry stores was giving away adult goody bags.

Adult Halloween goody bag

going postal

I've been getting back into writing letters lately, and I finally needed to buy more stamps.  I like to select fun ones because they last so long.  And I get irrationally angry that USPS charges shipping fees for buying online.  That's quite a racket since they're the ones shipping everything.  Anyway, I digress. 

I went to the post office where there were three employees and one customer.   I asked about stamps, and he brought out several varieties, none of which I loved.  So he brought out more.  And still more.  Finally he brought out George Bush stamps -- a sure sign of passive-aggression.   

That's when I realized I'd better hurry up and decide before he went postal.  I bought two packets to make him feel like he hadn't been wasting his time, even though he gets paid salary and not  commission.  Probably these will last me until I die.  Good thing they're forever stamps.  

is it worth it?

I guess we all have to decide what cost is worth what reward.  For me, my health and feeling good are worth almost any price.  Concentrating on that results in a mostly positive-attributed physical aspect.  AKA, I'm fit.  I have a friend who was asking me for food and health tips to change up her physicality.  I shared what worked for me, stating that everyone is different.  Her conclusion was that she'd rather be fat than have to eat how I eat.  Okay. 

In a similar conversation, she was telling me everything she does to look her best on the outside.  And I'm lazy as fuck with regards to that, perhaps because so much energy goes into making the inside function better.  Anyway, I've concluded that I'd rather have scars and wrinkles than go through her beauty routine.  Plus, I'm getting much better about accepting my scars and wrinkles.  I've earned every one of them.  They've made me the Wendy I am today.  And most people (myself usually included) appreciate that Wendy quite a bit.

traveling travails

After many, many times of opting out of full body scans at the TSA airport security, I was finally flagged as a troublemaker and received EXTRA private screening.  I was escorted into the back behind a curtain by two other women, which I'm sure was also on purpose, but whatever.  They can go fuck themselves.  Apparently, the difference between regular patdowns and EXTRA screening is she gets to use the fronts of her hands without any witnesses except her cohort.  I hope she enjoyed it.

Obviously, nothing on me or in my possession was illegal, and I didn't trigger any further alarms, but I can see how intimidating that process might be for someone without my intestinal fortitude, or my stubbornness -- call it what you like.

The cohort had the pleasure of rifling through my unmentionables, although she did this back in the public eye.  It was all security theater, and it constantly surprises me how (the) hoi polloi fall for this rigamarole.

Fooled them.  It was actually the distraction I needed not to completely lose my shit and start bawling in public.  I kept it together all the way until I got on the plane.  And then my eyes started leaking terribly.  Fortunately I had extra tissues in my purse that were only slightly manhandled by the TSA.

I thought I was doing a mediocre job of not making a scene.  Silent crying is one of my specialties.  However, the kind woman next to me noticed and asked if I was okay.  Of course that made me cry harder because awwwwwww.  I told her I was sad but would be okay.  She patted my knee and politely ignored my tears the rest of my flight.  When we deplaned, she wished me well and said she hoped my day got brighter.   Awwwww.  Just when I think humanity is lost, I see altruistic kindness.

I navigated a tight connection and caught my flight home without further incident.  Until I arrived at my car.  One of the tires was low.  I had a slight migraine building (perhaps because of the tears or the tears were because of the impending migraine, who can say), and I wasn't in the mood.  Logic prevailed though; five minutes putting air in my tire would be a lot quicker and easier than having a blowout on the highway.

I made it home safely and had an emotional reunion with Kitten.

I'm a fine feathered friend

I never knew that wearing a sparkly feather boa through multiple airports and cities was something I've always wanted to do.   

10/10 highly recommend

Not only was it fun every time it tickled me, but it made even the grumpiest people smile. 

I was able to merge into stopped highway traffic more easily after someone's car caught on fire and multiple first-responders showed up.  Cranky people at security were more pleasant, both employees and passengers.  Tired maintenance workers cracked big smiles seeing it. 

The only person who didn't change expression was one of my pilots.  Oh well, at least he got me there safely.  

And a side benefit is that it functioned as a scarf and kept me warm. 

sparkly feather boa

chillax brohim

Finally, I can chill the fuck out!

After 9 days, my house air conditioner is working again.  Maybe even permanently fixed.   Fingers crossed.  I've been so stressed and anxious.  And overheated and cranky.  It was particularly brutal with a migraine.  

The universe kept conspiring against me to get this unit fixed.  I guess I'm learning patience.  And resilience.  And how to be assertive. 

So many lessons still to learn.

exercise my anxiety away

My anxiety is tenacious.  It's not as bad as it was a few days ago, but it's not letting go.  Or maybe it is as bad, and I'm getting used to it.  UGH.

I've tried minerals, calming thoughts, grounding, medicinal alcohol, walks in nature, phoning friends, and even a massage.  Side note:  I'm excited to have found a good massage therapist nearby, who is also affordable.

As soon as I stop doing any of that, the anxiety comes right back.  Today I'm forcing myself to do bodyweight exercises and stretches every time I feel that skin-crawling feeling.  If nothing else, I'll be in better shape for my anxiety episodes.

I've almost completely lost my appetite and have been forcing myself to eat.  Fortunately I'd just gone on a Costco shopping trip last week, so I'm stocked up with all kinds of healthy food.  Of course, none of it feels appetizing, even the chocolate. 

magnesium and rum

Apparently my brain decided to pull some shenanigans on me and amp up my anxiety yesterday.  I had a lovely morning, hanging out with friends.

In the afternoon, once I was home, my skin started crawling with anxiety.  I couldn't figure out why or how to deflect it.  So I took my own advice and took more magnesium.  Then I took a sip of medicinal rum.  About once an hour until the migraine finally hit and swept the anxiety into a maelstrom of pain and existential crisis.

Why am I here?  What good am I doing?  Who even cares?  Why bother?  Ad infinitum.

The migraine meds didn't make a dent in the fucking pain.  I laid awake in a fugue, listening to The Dresden Files on an audio-book, trying to distract myself from how pathetic I was.

When I woke up this morning, the pain and anxiety were both gone and so was all of my energy. 

Today has definitely been a self-care kind of day.  And I even scheduled a new masseuse for later this week.  Go me!

unexpected silver lining

While I'm stewing in anxiety and panic about hurricane Dorian, I'm hearing from many, many friends and loved ones.  Just a couple days ago, I was feeling unloved and unlovable.  And now, I'm hearing from so many people who have kind of slipped out of touch.  So maybe it's a little bit of a blessing. 

mediocre experiment results

My post-it note affirmations got put to the test yesterday.  I woke up feeling great after seven glorious hours of sleep.  And then my mood went downhill rapidly.  By early afternoon, I was in tears on my couch, snuggling with my cat, feeling worthless and unlovable again. 

I forced myself to wander room to room, reading all of my notes.  Some helped a smidge.  Others didn't even seem relevant anymore.

I assumed the low pressure trough off the coast was tanking my neurotransmitter levels and that my anti-CGRP meds were keeping the actual migraine pain at bay.  That may be ending soon, because I can feel the pain creeping into the back of my subconscious this morning.  I'm debating whether exercise right now will help or hurt or make no difference at all.

I had some small amount of warning, besides the weather forecast.  Kitten also seems bothered by weather fluctuations and threw up yesterday morning (on the tile thankfully).

happiness rests in your hands, if you have good friends

My BFF came to visit over the weekend so we could shop for wedding dresses.

Nooo, not for me.  But it was fun to do (at least for three stores) and an activity that I didn't realize was on my bucket-list.

wedding dress fitting room

Before her visit, I had waffled over taking down all of my post-it notes, but laziness and knowledge that she wouldn't judge me persuaded me to leave them up.

It turns out that she thought they were a keen idea, and after a cathartic conversation, we made her a personalized stack of them, with which to plaster her house.

I am so very fortunate to have her as my friend.

"A friend knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails."

I have great friends

I admitted to several of my friends that I peppered my house with Post-It note affirmations, even though I felt ridiculous (both in the doing and the admitting).  And not only didn't they laugh at how silly it all is, they joined in with more suggestions!

Now, there's a reminder in every room of my home that life is grand and also that many people care about me.

affirmation Post-It note

the despair is only an illusion

I know that preceding a migraine attack, I am prone to depressive episodes.  And yet, each one feels so real.  I feel so unlovable, so unlikable, and also so pathetic for feeling that way.

One minute, I'm feeling pretty good about life and then WHAM!  Out of nowhere, I absolutely know that I am an abject failure at life.

I try to rein in my emotions.  But logic is scarcely a match for plummeting serotonin levels or whatever is going on in this mutant brain of mine.  I've tried pep-talking myself. 

"Wendy Lady, this is only temporary.  You've survived decades of this shit.  Ride it out."

The problem with that is it's hard to identify that my despair is only an illusion whilst in the throes of said despair.  To that end, I have written down many post-it note affirmations, as recommended by my mermaid friend and seconded by my sister.  I have strategically placed them all throughout my home to remind me of how great everything is when my brain isn't being an asshole. 

affirmations

crib notes

I've been having a tricksier time than normal with my mood.  A friend told me about Action for Happiness and their daily calendar.  Yesterday's action was to write down three things that I'm grateful for.  I decided to write them on my hand as a constant reminder.

It definitely helped me to catch glimpses of that throughout my day. 

Even after multiple hand-washings, I saw remnants of it.  That was some kind of happiness voodoo.

This is a new tool that I will be using again and again, I hope.  I know that some days I'll be too embarrassed to do it, but I hope that eventually I won't give a fuck what anyone thinks of my mental health idiosyncrasies.

crib notes

decadence

I've decided to come clean to myself about my insomnia.  I've kind of been in denial, but not really.  I know I've had shitty sleep the past few years.  But it's gotten worse lately, and I'm trying to be okay with that.  Normally, I force myself to get up at my usual time (7am-ish) no matter how much sleep I've had. 

Today, I woke up around 1:30am and didn't fall back asleep until close to 6am.  It wasn't all bad.  I talked to a special someone on the phone for four hours.  And then, I made the executive decision that sufficient sleep would be better than on-schedule sleep, and I turned my ringer off.  Usually it turns on automatically in the morning.

And with no interruptions (thank you, Kitten), I slept until 10am.

10AM!!!

How absolutely decadent.  I immediately felt guilty and giddy, like I had gotten away with a petty crime.

I'm working on relaxing my health standards, so I don't fall into orthosomniac sleeping.  I definitely can get obsessed with bettering my health, for good reason (to avoid migraine), but I have decided that too much is not good for me.

spiderman, spiderman

I took a friend out to the movies for his birthday.   There weren't many choices, so we picked the new Spider-man.  To which everyone said, "There's a new Spider-man??"

I opted for the less expensive, yet still comfortable, recliner seats among the hoi polloi.  Usually when we go midweek and midday, the theater is half empty.  It turned out to be opening day for the movie, so it was packed.

Two little boys and a single father were on my friend's side.  One of them immediately spilled popcorn all over my friend, so I was thinking I was the lucky one.

Wrong.

A man walked up to the seat next to me and started setting up what I can only describe as a campsite, minus the fire-pit.  He laid a blanket across the seat and footrest.  He started undressing his layers and redressing in his movie outfit, I suppose.  I'm not really sure because I assumed this would go quickly, so I didn't pay attention. 

Wrong.

Next he laid out a three course meal, including a pepperoni pizza, a JUMBO popcorn, and assorted candy.  And drinks.  Plural.

He removed his shoes and had a second blanket on top of himself, until he was tucked into his bed.

This theater has tray tables that swing out to allow someone to sit down and then swing back to the person.  He left his out, which put his JUMBO popcorn obstructing my line of sight to the screen.  I politely asked him if it was possible to move his tray table towards himself.  He happily agreed.

And moved it two centimeters.  Douchebag.

Just that morning I had listened to a health expert saying he wanted to ban JUMBO popcorn in movies because it created a hostile environment for health.  I kind of laughed it off.  After sitting next to that pepperoni pizza, JUMBO popcorn, and sugary sundae smells for over two hours, I'm ready to sign that petition.

The smells were overpowering.

Despite my train-wreck of a neighbor, I enjoyed myself and laughed lots.  My friend told me that the little boy next to him was enamored of me.  He leaned across my friend and watched me most of the movie.  Every time I laughed, he looked back to the screen and laughed, too.  Awwww. 

pity party with margaritas

I don't know if it's the jet lag, the post-vacation letdown, a migraine prodrome, or real sadness.  I'm willing to entertain all options.

I'm treating more skin cancer on my face, and I look hideous at the moment, so it could be genuine fear and sadness.  I waited until I got back from Hawaii, so I wouldn't get sun on fresh scar tissue.

I feel unwilling to venture outside looking like this.  Plus it's unseasonably hot this week.  And, I'm cranky and miserable.

My sister persuaded me to bring home the giant sized bottle of tequila in my checked bag.  It was almost full, and it's pretty damn good.  I have a tree full of fresh mangoes, so mango margaritas seemed the best option.

mango margarita

welcome home, Wendy!

I forgot I had my last clinical trial appointment the day after I got home.  I was so jet-lagged and backed quickly out of my driveway and almost ran over a giant iguana.  He was easily four feet long and hanging out on the warn asphalt.

I drove the hour each way to my doctor and found out the weight loss was accurate.  Oh well, new goals.  Also I think jet lag lowered my blood pressure even further.  

I stopped for sushi as a treat and because I had no food in my house, and then I got super tired with a full belly.  When I pulled onto my street, all I wanted to do was park my car and go back to bed.  

I pulled up to my house and interrupted a slaughter of iguanas holding a committee meeting in my front yard.  Several smaller ones were all just hanging about.  I slowed down because I didn't want the extra work of cleaning dead ones off of my car.  They eventually scattered , and I had a glorious nap with Kitten.

naps on a plane

Why do they call it a catnap?  My cat sleeps longer. 

It was the red-eye, and I got as comfy as can be expected, but I slept only an hour.  Maybe two tops.  I took the preemptive Excedrin, which has caffeine and probably didn't do me any favors.  But then I countered it with the free Mai-Tai, which has alcohol, combined with a boring movie and noise-canceling headphones.  

Mai-Tai

My insomnia helped me a little because I wasn't too tired when we landed at my layover.  Until two hours of riding moving sidewalks later, playing Pokemon Go and looking for a mailbox.  (Mailboxes have really gone out of vogue.  But I had a Hawaiian postcard to mail, that I forgot about when I was killing time in Honolulu airport.)  Anyway, after two hours of playing and questing, I got sleepy and needed to sit down.  

I hung out at my gate until boarding time, and then I caught my connection home.  No more sleeping, not even a non-cat catnap.

Buddha says pain is certain, suffering is optional

My last full day here started with beach sunrise, of course, and then a mellow trip to a Buddhist temple. 

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of that candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”                         

                                                             – The Buddha

“Life is so very difficult. How can we be anything but kind?” 

                                                              – The Buddha

Byodo-In Temple

Buddha

another glorious sunrise

sunrise in Hawaii

diamonds and pearls, redux

One of my sisters and I decided to hike Diamond Head Crater.  Apparently it's famous, although I'd never heard about it.   We drove through a tunnel bored into the side of the mountain to get inside.  I paid the extra money to park there instead of walking in.  I recognize and acknowledge my limitations.  I figured the hike would take enough out of me -- I didn't need to add extra onto it.

We started at a fairly brisk pace, which was way too fast for me.  I walk most days in Florida heat and humidity, so technically this was the same.  Except for the elevation.  I couldn't breathe!!!  It wasn't that high, under a thousand feet even at the summit.  But I live at 4 feet elevation.  I'm also blaming the prodrome of a migraine for stealing my oxygen.  Plus it's kind of a rapid ascension.

Diamond Head Crater

My sister was patient and stopped frequently for me to rest. 

I briefly felt like a loser every time I had to ask my much older sister to slow down.  Sigh.  But I know I'm doing my best with what I've got.  

The incline was fairly steep and the trail very uneven because of lava formation.   Yes, I did play the ground is lava, but only in my head because talking was hard.  I was glad I'd brought my good hiking boots.  They helped me keep traction immensely. 

The view at the top was gorgeous but admittedly not as grand as some of the scenic overlooks along the highway. 

Did I mention we wore our matching sister hats? 

Once I got close to the top, either my adrenaline kicked in or the prodrome ended, and I felt fine the rest of the hike.  

When we got to the bottom again, I was a sweaty mess, but it felt just like any other day I go walking in Florida.  Minus the iguanas.  My sister went and played in the sprinklers to cool down. 

We stopped for kalua pig on the way home at Fatboy's.  Yum!

Kalua pig

hawaii 9-0

My sister ordered matching reunion t-shirts again this time.  The past ones have been quaint, if you will.  I was pleasantly surprised that this one wasn't embarrassingly personal.  The original concept had a photo of my dad on it.  Luckily, she came to her senses. 

After I recuperated from the helicopter ride, I went to the beach of course, and the fresh air and cool water performed its magic on me.  I was fully recovered in time for the birthday celebration dinner.  Pops was very touched that some of his friends and former colleagues had written letters to congratulate him.

Reunion matching T-shirts

helicopter parent

A few of us went on a helicopter tour of the island.  It was my first time in a helicopter, and I wasn't sure what to expect.  Spoiler:  It was fantastic.  Up until I got queasy.   

My sister wanted doors off which made it windy and cold.   My hair was a clusterfuck, so all of my selfies sucked.  But the rest was incredible.  We had to get weighed, and they distributed us accordingly.  Which meant I had a middle seat because apparently I've lost weight.  Sadness.  

I took lots of pictures although I think most didn't come out great because of the angles and movement.   He flew us all around the island for an hour.  And over Pearl Harbor he went even lower and circled when Pops told him that his father had served on the Utah.   

USS Utah

They seem kinda lax on flight restrictions because Hawaii.  Or maybe he's a known quantity and can get away with extra since he flies several tours a day.   We even flew over the Honolulu airport runway.  

Towards the end, we hit some winds and rain, and my stomach decided to make itself known.  I stopped taking pictures and concentrated on my breathing.  Unfortunately, there were no airsick bags in sight, and I was sitting next to the pilot.   I made an executive decision and decided I would puke on the floor if necessary (it wouldn't be the first time sadly). 

Happy days, I was able to rein in my nausea and hold down the coffee I had ingested earlier.  But I wasn't up for more socializing or fun activities right away.   My sister quietly drove us home, and I went to lie down.   I ate a cricket bar on the way, which helped a little.  

shopping?

My sisters and I planned to drive into the city to shop.  Normally I'm not fond of shopping, but I was looking for souvenirs and gifts.  Plus some sister bonding.

They don't get along perfectly, so I tried to do my part as intermediary and organize everyone.  Pop was supposed to drive us because the rental car was in his name.  That was due to last minute arrangements made at the airport after my sister and he missed their flight because blah blah blah family drama.

Anyway, after much texting back and forth, both sisters said they would be ready within five minutes and meeting by my cottage.  Ten minutes later, one sister knocks on my door and is wearing her swimsuit.  What?!

Me:  "I thought we were going shopping?"
Her:  "We are."
Me:  "Why the swimsuit then?"
Her:  "Because Waikiki"
Me:  "Huh?"
Her:  "WAIKIKI"
Me:  "Right, but I thought we were going shopping?"
Her:  "Wendy, it's Waikiki Beach though"
Me:  "So we're still going shopping, right?"
Her:  "Yes"

At that point, I felt like I was in a bad comedy sketch and decided to roll with it.  She told me I could bring my suit, too.  I declined because we're staying on one of the world's best beaches ever.  Why would I want to go elsewhere?

We walk over to my other sister's cabin, and she answers the door in her bathrobe.  What?!

Hadn't I just been texting with both of them that we were going shopping and everyone would be ready 15 minutes ago??

Whatever.  We finally get all situated in the car, and are on our way.  Halfway there, I realize how absurd it is that our 90 year old father is chauffeuring us around.  But he's an excellent driver with more experience than all of us combined, so I guess it's fine.

I couldn't resist piping up from the backseat that she was hitting me.  (She accidentally bumped me on a pothole.)

We drove into Waikiki and passed the high end shops, where we all decided to park and take a look.  One sister was looking for a handmade Hawaiian quilt, which turned out to be gobs of money.  She was going to think about it.

Tiffany & Co, Waikiki

I quickly lost interest in the quilt store and wandered into Tiffany's, Louis Vuitton, and Hermès.  One sister met up with me in Hermès, and we browsed until I was asked not to photograph their dishes.  What?!  What if I had been shopping for real and wanted to ask my partner if he liked them, too?  I'd assume before spending thousands of dollars on housewares, I'd want mutual agreement.  Maybe that's not how the wealthy operate.  They were marvelous dishes.

We went for lunch at the upscale food court and got Vietnamese.  Yum.

Then, my sister and Pop went to Waikiki Beach, while my other sister and I relaxed in the nearby air-conditioned Starbucks, where she explained to me that it was a generational thing.  Apparently Waikiki Beach was a huge thing for them as kids.

diamonds and pearls

It seemed apropos to tour Pearl harbor with a migraine.   It kept me somber.  Probably it kept me more cranky than somber, but I'll tell myself I was somber.  I woke up at 4am with a migraine on my second day in paradise. 
  

I made coffee with my newly acquired Costco supplies and hoped the caffeine and the hot shower would help.  Then I dressed and walked 100 feet to the beach to watch the sunrise. 

It was so glorious.

sunrise

The water was the perfect shade of blue, what I've always called Caribbean blue.  Now I know it's also Hawaiian blue.  The trade-winds were blowing.  And just as the sun crested the horizon, a cast of crabs started poking inquisitive heads out of tiny holes.   One mutually scared me.  I yelped and he retreated quickly. 

I reluctantly left and walked back to my cottage.  My head wasn't getting better, so I popped some meds.  And got bombarded by a flood of texts about family drama -- missing car keys and missing cellphone. 

Off to breakfast and then an 8am tour of Pearl Harbor.  

As one of the few people with a working cellphone, a sense of direction, and the address of where we needed to be, I sat up front and navigated.  With a migraine.  Oh well.  I've faked it through worse scenarios.  I got us there and met up with the rest of our party.  Only 10 minutes late.   I'll call that a win. 

Walking in from the parking lot, I took more meds.  The pain was up to a 6 by now.  We had to take a shuttle onto Ford island to see the USS Missouri.   I used most of my concentrated powers not to puke on the bus.   Yippee.  It worked. 

USS Missouri

The battleship was huge and impressive, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind to appreciate the significance yet.  I took pics as I could in case I wanted to see where I'd been later.  

Pops said he didn't want the guided tour, so we humored him and wandered on our own.  And then joined the guided tour ahead of us already in progress.  After posing for family pics.

I had zero knowledge of what importance the USS Missouri had and was surprised to learn it's essentially where the Pacific theater part of WW2 ended.  It was very humbling to see the spot where 74 years ago, one side formally surrendered to the other.

Surrender formally signed

Instrument of Surrender

They erected a plaque there.

Surrender marker

The second bunch of meds were kicking in and mellowing me.  And I ended up hanging with Pops.  He said he'd been on the Missouri previously right after the war ended in NYC harbor.  And the stories continued from there. 

He and I toured the underbelly of the ship, with him reminiscing and explaining everything to me.  I took tons of pictures and learned more about his father and brother who were both in the Navy.  He was the rebel and had gone Army. 

One of my sisters found us halfway through and we started clowning around and taking pics.  I also got the welcome news via text that both the car keys and cellphone had been located.  But mostly I wasn't getting any texts because of being inside so much metal. 

When we finally surfaced, my phone blew up again with "Where are you guys" texts?  Apparently they had all skipped the underneath part of the tour, which was considerable, and had been waiting an hour.  Oops.

We got back on the bus to tour another museum but our tickets didn't work there, so we cut the trip short fortunately.  I was done in.  And ready for lunch.  So was Pops.  I think this took a lot out of him emotionally. 

We had a delicious lunch of Hawaiian pulled pork, and I navigated us home and bailed to go nap.

menu

Pork Plate Lunch

I woke much better but still groggy and went to the beach for fresh air and exquisite water.

resting in the shade and fresh air

family Costco trip

Because we were all staying at places with some sort of kitchens, we decided to go shopping for food for the week.  And what better place to buy in bulk than Costco??

It was way more fun than it sounds.  And also stressful.  My two sisters, Pop, and I went to acquire food stuffs.  We didn't have any coffee at the cottages yet, so we stopped at Starbucks first.  Also, Costco didn't open until 10am, and we'd all been awake for hours because of time zones, so we had time to kill.  Believe it or not, this was my very first cup of Starbucks coffee ever.  It was anticlimactic.

very first Starbucks coffee

One sister found a nice floppy sun hat, which we all thought was cute, so we got matching sister hats.  YAY!!

matching sisters' floppy hat

We bought tons of food to feed 15 people, who may or may not ever be eating the same meals.  Mostly not. 

second flight

I met up with my nephew and his girlfriend for the looooong leg to Hawaii.  We hadn't figured out ground transportation for the three of us to our cottages.  My sister, her daughter, and Pop were supposed to arrive an hour before us and get a rental car.  When we landed, my phone blew up with so many text messages from everyone letting me know they had missed their flight. 

There was a medical emergency when we landed, so while I was waiting to deplane, I texted a few times back and forth and arranged our ride.  My niece's boyfriend had flown in prior and had room for us and our luggage in his rental car.

I had taken more migraine medication on the second leg, and I was in less pain but definitely cognitively impaired.  We both used our phones to navigate to our accommodations, and between the two of us, we found it okay.  I had previously helped my sister figure out the logistics of where everyone was sleeping, so I directed them to their respective cottages.

As soon as I got to mine, I changed into my bikini and hit the beach.

My cottage

on the plane

My seatmate seems really nice and interesting.  She's flying on to Tokyo.  I want to make friends with her.  Can I just say hi, I'm Wendy, wanna be friends?  Does that work ever?  She's very busy reading her trashy magazine.  It doesn't seem like she wants to be social. 

I popped a preemptive Excedrin before takeoff.   Fingers crossed no migraine. 

The captain came back to say hello personally and thank me.  I wonder if he's under the influence.  Whatever, as long as he lands me safely. 

here goes nothing

Day one is a test.  How am I going to to do traveling these days?  Specifically with flying.  It's been so long since I've put myself through this, but Pop's 90th birthday family reunion seemed like a damn good reason.

Of course somehow it ended up being the longest plane trip ever,  except when I flew to the Middle or Far East.  Here I am jumping in at full throttle again.   It seems my only two speeds are idle and pedal-to-the-metal.  We won't talk about reverse.   

And because I'm flying so far, the first flight is at 7am.  I set my alarm for 4:45am.  Let's see how many triggers I can do before I get a raging migraine.

Spoilers: The answer was four.  

no more dishpan hands?

This is why I put off buying a new dishwasher for so long.

The delivery and installation did not go smoothly.  My friend was here to chaperone the scary delivery men.  That was only semi-useful, as it made me feel safe, but it didn't help as much with the installation since the main installer didn't speak English.

Something something water line.  Next thing I know, Home Depot is on the phone scheduling one of their plumbers to visit me to remedy my deficient line, which was working just fine until the old dishwasher itself broke.

Unbeknownst to me, the non-English speaker had created a small leak under my kitchen sink, which I discovered two days later when I moved all the cleaning stuff under my sink for the plumber.  The plumber took pics and documented it somewhere to someone.

The plumber (who thankfully spoke English) fixed that leak and then decided to install my dishwasher, which my friend had fortunately advised me to keep on Saturday, even though they wouldn't install it.

He called me into the kitchen several times to advise me of problems.  Sigh.  Yes, I know my countertop is nicked right there.  And there.  And there, too.  Maybe you could also point out the spider living under the cabinet.  And the cobweb in the corner of my tall window that I can't reach to clean.  And while we're being judgmental, how about pointing out the bags under my eyes from not sleeping enough.  I understand it's his job, but my anxiety was not being kind to me.
 
Then he let me know that my oven is extremely close, and he can't open the dishwasher fully.  I explained all of that when I bought the damn thing and was told they're all the same size.  The plumber agreed with that statement, even though he was clearly looking at evidence to the contrary.  Fuck!!  After I dropped several F-bombs, he decided to take some initiative and installed the dishwasher a little off-kilter.  It opens just fine now.  Problem solved.

He tested the dishwasher, which started filling up with water and not leaking everywhere.  Yippee.

However, all of the manuals were still inside, along with some Styrofoam packing.  Oh well, who reads paper manuals?  Then, when I opened the dishwasher to inspect it, I noticed the top rack was rickety as hell.  I called him over, and he played around another few minutes and tightened something up.

At that point, I was eyeing my liquor cabinet and the rum bottle sitting temptingly there.  It was 8:30am. 

He left the old dishwasher for some future team to pick up in a few days.

I tipped him and shooed him out the door.

As I was opening the liquor cabinet, he knocked again and came back for forgotten tools and his flashlight under the sink.

I am proud of myself for taking only one small swig from the rum bottle.  It was medicinal obviously.

I didn't have more medicinal liquor until 6pm, when I made a strawberry yogurt protein smoothie, with a splash of rum.  I excitedly used one of my new crystal glasses, which does not fit in the dishwasher.  Sigh.

I'm using all of my dishes and mugs and bowls and utensils, so I can hurry and fill my new dishwasher and see how well it cleans.  Probably I don't even care anymore. 

RIP my shredder

I was tackling my last two boxes of what I thought were computer parts that I no longer wanted, like 85 power cords because you never know, right?? 

It turned out that one was another box of ancient financials.  Off to the shredder, which started making horrible noises.  I made it halfway through the box before it gave up the ghost.  But it sort of gave a halfhearted attempt at working, which gave my ignorant ass hope.  I decided to take it apart and see if clearing the latest internal jam would fix it.  A pile of screws, tiny balls of wadded paper, grease smudges all over, and a couple extra parts later, it was fairly apparent that it would no longer service me.  Optimistically, I reassembled it all (it was very interesting to see the inner workings), and it made the same exact halfhearted noise from before. 

Ah, well, thank you for your years of devotion in making my personal information difficult to read.  May you rest in peace.

war stories

My Pops had to run some errands today, which included moving a couple of coffee tables.  He could easily lift the weight, but they were too bulky to manage alone.  Probably he could've found someone to assist, because who wouldn't help an old man do that?  But it's definitely easier with a second set of hands.  He picked me up, and I texted my sister that we were going to do it (because she had arranged it from afar).  She texts back, "are they even ready?"

Ugh, apparently, we didn't have any confirmation.  Pop said, oh well let's take a ride. 

Spoiler alert, they were ready, after many family drama texts later.

With some Tetris puzzling, we managed to fit both into his car.  One had a glass top, and we didn't plan ahead with any padding or wrapping.  Therefore, he decided to take surface roads home.

Pop was feeling nostalgic, so we drove by my brother's old house.  Which we couldn't easily get to because of new construction.  After a couple detours, we made it, and I texted photos to my brother, who was texting me photos of his poor dog at the vet, after a fight with another of his dogs.

We stayed on surface roads for about twenty minutes, until Pop got sick of the traffic, then he lost patience, was all, fuck it, and we tried to get to the freeway.  Three detours later, and we made it.  Surprisingly, the glass top of the coffee table was fine when we got it to his place.  We carried them both upstairs and set them up. 

After that, I was starving, so we picked up some food to go and took it back to my place. 

Continuing in his nostalgic mood, he somehow got on the topic of when he first enlisted in 1948, during a time of peace after the second World War.  All until the Korean War started, and he was still enlisted.  He was quite chatty, and his stories were so interesting.  About two hours into it, I wished I had recorded him.  But I thought it might make him self-conscious.  Plus I was fighting a migraine from all of the day's activity, and I could barely hold my head up and listen to him, let alone mess with any technology. 

It was with much reluctance that I finally said goodnight to him and went to bed to nurse my migraine.

wishy washery

I bought my first major appliance all by myself!  

I had months of anxiety.  And one pre-visit for research purposes.  Today I handed over my credit card.  Delivery is next week.  Fingers crossed that it all works out. 

My dishwasher had been having issues for almost a year.  Einstein tried to repair it for me, but they make them overly complex with circuit boards and blah blah blah, so it was only a band-aid fix.   I definitely appreciated the effort though.  It bought me more time and brought me to a point in my life when my anxiety and stress have gone way down and I'm better able to cope.

A few days ago, it went completely belly up.  I had to wash the whole load by hand.  That was a good motivator to stop being lazy and scared.   I'm not even sure why this was so hard. 

I need to stop telling myself that I don't know how to do these things.  I'm smart.  I can figure out the basics, right?  I guess I'll find out next week if I managed to arrange it all correctly. And if I completely fucked it all up, then I chalk it up to an expensive lesson.

Walking myself through the worst outcome helps to lower my anxiety surprisingly.  Maybe I'll figure this Life thing out before my turn is up.

JOMO arigato, Mr. Roboto

For any non-millennials, JOMO is the joy of missing out.  It was created in response to FOMO, which is the fear of missing out.  Essentially, it's defined as being content with what you're doing right now and not worrying what else you could be doing.

In that light, I had a relaxing, perfect weekend doing practically nothing, except spending time with one of my favorite people in the world.  The heavens aligned to give me this weekend.  I had very little migraine interference.  The weather was fantastic, including a brilliantly bright full moon.  I was completely lazy, although I managed to walk on the beach a couple of times at dusk when it wasn't too hot.  And I got to see pelicans diving and fishing for their dinner.

11/10   Would repeat

life doesn't get easier -- we get stronger

Life needs to come with a rule-book.  Or at least cheat codes and hints. 

Am I making the right decision now?  What about this one?  If I feel sad after making it, does that negate the rightness?

On the positive side of life, guess who is making new friends?!!?!

Strong, welcoming, smart, women friends.  I'm so excited.   It's been a while since I've had a lot of friends to casually hangout with or spontaneously meet for lunch.  If their phone numbers are in my phone, and we text sometimes, that counts, right??

I did it!!

I did my first ever aimovig injection at home by myself.  Go me!

It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd expected.  I had done two previously at the doctor's office under nurse's supervision into my stomach.  Yuck.  I was able to do this one into my leg.  Not sure which is preferable yet.  It hurt but not as badly as the clinical trial injections.  I guess maybe they changed the formulation.

I lived on the edge and didn't use the alcohol wipes first.

I'm trying another science experiment and going back down to one dose, which I was on for a couple years at first.  It's so expensive that I'd rather try this and see if it works.  Or at the very least, maybe one injection every two weeks, so there isn't any abrupt falloff.

shot through the heart

Stop being so dramatic, Wendy. 

It was two shots into my abdomen, nowhere near my heart, and definitely not through it.  But I couldn't find those song lyrics.  :)

My migraine clinical trial has officially ended, and I've learned how to do my own anti-CGRP injections.  Go me!  They're auto-injectors, so all I needed to do was click a button.  They made it much easier than any of my previous sumatriptan injections.  Those require a degree in mechanical engineering to figure out (in the middle of an attack so bad that a pill won't work).  Good luck with that!

Probably I'll inject into my leg going forward, but I didn't feel like dropping trou in my doctor's office when the nurse was instructing me.  They still burn a little but not nearly as much as the clinical trial ones did.  I have no idea why.  I hope this formulation works as well or better than what I've been getting.

I left with two band-aids on my stomach and one on my arm because they took several more vials of blood to see how I'm faring after 5 years.  I'm no longer suicidal from pain and despair, but this most definitely isn't a permanent cure.  I still get up to eight attacks per month with close lifestyle management.

I have more hope these days that maybe I'll grow out of it or discover the magic Wendy formula that allows me to have my life back completely.  Until then, I'm living the best I can, day to day.

surf and turf

I had an unusual dining experience -- eating sushi in an upscale place whilst watching professional bull riding.  I was kinda shocked to see that they had their TVs tuned to this event.  And yet, I couldn't tear my eyes away.  

I was dining with a friend, so of course that was rude.  I made plenty of conversation and would intermittently flick my eyes up to catch the exciting eight (usually less) seconds of adrenaline and fear before they got bucked off.  I had forgotten how much I used to enjoy watching this.  I have no idea why, but I'd used bull-riding in the past to help me fall asleep.  It was soothing somehow, which is completely counter-intuitive.

feeling healthier mentally

Or maybe I mean emotionally.  Oh I still cry at the drop of a dragonfly into my pool.  And I still tear up if someone says something unkind to me.  My emotions aren't lessened, but they feel more realistic now.  Less in the dark, more in the light.  Literally.  Because I'm inspired to open my curtains up more.  (And now I have that Poltergeist movie quote in my head, "Run to the light, Carol Anne."  You're welcome.)

I finished (mostly) the giant de-cluttering of 2018.  I'm still finding small pockets of things I've missed.  However, I've gotten rid of lots of dumb things and hard to throw away things and sentimental things and kinda broken things.  I've replaced what needed to be replaced.  And enjoyed empty space where nothing needed replacing.

It's kind of amazing how physical objects can affect mental clarity.  I've heard people say that for years, but I never understood it inside my heart.  I think it's one of those concepts where one needs to experience it before fully comprehending.   

I'm relearning what my style of decor is, along with my style of Wendy, and just about all of my tastes.  It's kinda weird to start new, yet with greater wisdom and composure.

It's been four really long years, and I finally feel ready to start over with excitement rather than dread.  Wish me luck!

guess who isn't magically cured?

After two weeks of very little pain and minimal migraine attacks, for some inane reason, I always think I must be magically cured.  I keep my life fairly regimented and geared toward living the migraine-free lifestyle.  And I forget that when I alter that one teensy bit, BOOM, instant migraine.

I bet you're wondering what my alteration of routine was that triggered this latest 41 hour and counting attack. 

I went to the mall. 

On a very uncrowded and stress-free day.   There were almost more employees than shoppers.  The weather was clear because I had purposefully waited for a zero trigger day.

I was given a gift-card as a present.  I should have walked in, bought one thing, and walked out.  But I decided to shop, look at options, and buy myself an actual present that I wanted but didn't need.  You know, the actual reason that someone gives you a gift-card.  I tried on two skirts, one pair of pants, and a shirt.  That should not have been a calamity.  I came straight home afterwards and napped, but it was too late.  The juggernaut was in motion.

I'm focusing on the positives though. 

• Someone loves me enough to buy me a gift. 
• I received six compliments on my hair that day.  SIX!!!
• I had a lovely bed and quiet house to recover in.
• I had meds and food readily available.
• I had friends to text and chat with while the meds kicked in.
• I had audiobooks to distract me with the push of a couple buttons.  

Technology is fantastic sometimes.

silk is a lie

I've been hearing for years about how silk pillowcases are the best thing ever for curly hair.  It was something that I'd hoped someone would gift to me because it felt extravagant to buy for myself.

After many years of hints going unheeded, I decided to gift one to myself at the end of the holiday season.  I even put it on my annual goals so I wouldn't flake out later. 

I was super excited to use it!

And then I woke up to awful hair.  To be fair, the humidity had increased so perhaps that made my hair worse.  I've now used it for almost a week and haven't noticed anything beneficial.  I don't know if I bought the wrong brand or what, but I did a brief amount of research before picking one.  It was 19 momme 100% mulberry silk blah blah blah supposed to be great.

Oh well, I still feel pampered when I see it on my bed.

stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about

I'm an emotional person who cries easily, and I've accepted that about myself.  Sometimes I cry because my brain chemistry is out of whack due to a migraine episode.  Sometimes I cry because my tender feelings are bruised. 

I had been crying on and off during December because the holidays can be painful for me as a single woman.  (Through talking to friends, I'm pretty sure it's also painful for a single anybody.)

My dad used to tell me when I was a child to stop crying, or he'd give me something to cry about.  I was a quick learner and decided it was better to cry softly in private and not get beat, rather than keep crying in front of him.  I had forgotten that lesson though.  And he totally gave me something to cry about last month.  SPOILER ALERT: He's mostly fine now.

He was admitted to the ER a week before Christmas with serious health problems.  Here's another spoiler alert, I've buried all kinds of hatchets, machetes, and tomahawks about my childhood upbringing.  It was awful, but my parents did the best they could with what they had.  That is my way of saying I love and like him now and want the best for him, even though I didn't like his parenting style much. 

Fortunately, I am not working (who thought I'd ever utter that phrase), and I could spend lots of time at the hospital with him.  I sat by his bedside and got him what he needed.  I asked questions of the nurses and doctors (who were excellent).  I sent tons of important and also whimsical texts and photos to my siblings keeping them apprised of his status.  I had one sister on speakerphone when the first doctor came in to give me some hard to hear test results.  She asked way more intelligent questions than I did because I was half in shock.  I texted family when they could call him and when he was delirious on meds and probably shouldn't call.  My local brother came to visit every night after work, and sometimes during the day if he had an hour free.

I picked up another sister from the airport that my dad had promised to do.  Before all of this, she'd planned a quick holiday trip.  She stayed with me and helped deal with some of the minutiae.  Also, it was nice to have fun for an hour with her and see the beach.

The stress and fear of almost losing him hit all of us differently.  I couldn't stop crying once I got the news that he was out of imminent danger of dying.  Others reacted with anger because fear is scary by its very nature.  Therefore, we had lots of family squabbles and hurt feelings.  I was not immune to this either, and I am ashamed to admit I yelled at my sisters independently of each other for silly things.

On the day before Christmas Eve, Pop was moved out of ICU.  On Christmas Eve, he was recovered enough to move to a rehabilitation facility.  By Christmas Day, he was getting antsy enough to want to leave, so I spoke with the director to speed that along.

He's back in his own home now and making great strides at being back to normal healthy.  His doctors and nurses were all amazed at how fast he recovered, considering how bad he was.

I had a few migraines during that time, but luckily no horrible ones until afterwards.

During all of this nonsense, I also got to meet my newest family member, my second grandnibling.  She is so stinking cute!!  And so is her older brother, who graciously shared with her a previous present I had given him (an adorable Yoda onesie).

I love and appreciate my family, as fucked up as we all are.  :)