It's All in My Head

"Hmmm....I've got the house to myself, so now's the perfect time to get a migraine," said no one who's had a migraine ever.

I don't think anyone who has ever had a migraine would ever want to have one.  I mean, not unless they have a something that they really, really, really want to get out of.  I'd have to be super desperate to wish I had a migraine.

I'm happy to say that I don't have a migraine tonight, just a tension headache.  I do have the house to myself, so I can control the environment.  That's pretty nice.  Only the lights that I want on.  Only the noise I want.  I don't have to do anything for anybody.  I can rest with an ice pack on my neck and watch Jeopardy on low volume.  It's ideal.

What do I do when can't control the environment?  Well, I guess I just do the best I can.  Take some pain medication, maybe drink some caffeine, cut out non-essential activities.  If it gets bad enough, I need to get home and rest.  Then it's a matter of explaining to the hubby, or the boss, that I need to lay down or I might get nauseous.

I don't like getting headaches.  I really don't like pain, but I'm used to it.  Is that a good thing?  I don't really know.  I've been dealing with headaches most of my life.

I could ignore the pain.  I do sometimes.  However, I think it's a good idea to pay attention to the pain.  The fact that I'm familiar with the typical types of headaches I tend to have and the causes to many of them means that I can avoid certain things if I need to or take a time out.

It's important to listen to your body.  It's important to pay attention to your pain.  It's your body's way of telling you something's off.  Sometimes, you just need to slow down.  Sometimes, you need to eliminate something from your life...or add something.  Sometimes, something is wrong.

Whatever it may be, listen to your body.  Understand your pain.  Make time to rest, recover, revive.

And, now, I'm going to shut off the computer before the light from the screen bugs my eyes any more.  And I'm going to rest.

Maybe my headache will go away before I go to sleep.  Maybe it'll be gone in the morning.  Maybe I'll wake up with it tomorrow.  Whatever happens, I'll just be glad to be awake tomorrow and glad that it's Friday and I can rest all weekend if I need to.

Here's hoping.


For some interesting reading on the topic of pain check out Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Philip Yancey and Paul Brand

Pulling a Rhonda

This post is dedicated to the Rhondas I know who tend to be as clumsy and accident prone as I can be (which is where the phrase "pulling a Rhonda" originates).

Sunday, at the end of a lovely camping weekend, on the way home from camping in the mountains, my husband stopped to fish in a creek.  I'm used to this.  I usually bring a book to read and my phone to take pictures if we've stopped in an especially lovely spot.  I was wearing my flip flops since it was hot, not exactly the best gear for trekking through the woods and down hills to the creek; but I've done it before, so no big deal, right?  

Usually, I find myself a prime spot of real estate (a rock big enough to be a semi-comfy seat right by the water so I can put my feet in while I read) and enjoy the peace of the moment while my husband fishes.  This creek was a bit different in that the banks were a bit overgrown and my husband wanted me to come downstream with him, which involved crossing the creek.  

He, being the incredibly athletic man that he is, leaped between two rocks four feet apart and made it easily across the creek.  He was in flip flops, too.  I told him he was crazy if he thought that I could actually make that same leap in flip flops.  So I proceeded to find a more ideal place to cross the creek.  I found one I thought would work and started to make my way across.  

The third rock in turned out to be more slippery than I thought...and the creek turned out to be deeper than I thought.  Down I went.  Backwards.  Scrabbling to try to catch the rock so I wouldn't end up the way I ended up.  

I managed to keep my head out of water.  

But my phone and the book in my back pocket got soaked.

My legs and arms got bruised and scratched up.

My hubby fished for a little while longer while I mentally recovered from my spill and watched my phone die.  He picked a spot to trek through the woods to get back to the truck, instead of going back across the creek.  However, there was a lot of undergrowth.  And not just happy little harmless plants.  There were wild blackberries and wild roses.  Which have thorns.  Plus, there were branches to step over.  

So I stepped over the ones I could.  I stepped up onto branches and down the other side if they were high enough.  One of the ones I stepped up onto broke and fell to the ground.  So I fell, too.  Sideways, this time.  

The strap on the side of my flip flop broke and I twisted my ankle.  

So I had to trudge through the remainder of the woods with a busted flip flop.  Not easy.  Takes some skill, which I had obviously used up at some point during the weekend.  

That was the end of my mishaps in the woods...but not the end of my mishaps.  

It was a two hour drive home.  

When we got home, I decided as a last ditch effort to save my phone to put it in a bag of rice.  That's supposed to work, right?  

I spilled rice all over the kitchen floor.

My phone never recovered and I'm discovering how little insurance can cover for a replacement phone and how much a "service fee" can be.  

I've applied some super glue to my flip flop in the hopes of repair it.  It's still drying, so we'll see.

But, hopefully, I've gotten the clumsiness out of my system for maybe another week or two.

Maybe the next time it won't be so expensive.

In Other News....

The beach is one of my favorite places to be.  There's something so soothing and refreshing about listening to the waves and walking in the sand.  It's a plus if I'm on a warm beach, because I can soak up the sunshine and not be worried that the water is too cold, sorry Oregon & Washington beaches.

I had an interview today.  Instead of trying to come up with some semi-intelligent answer to the "Where do you see yourself in five years question?" I said, "On a beach."  And, really, that's where I'd love to be tomorrow, and not have to wait five years.

So, tonight, while I'm trying to find some inspiration for supper, I'm going to go find some pictures of tropical beaches and drink a cup of tea.

In the Meantime

I've just recently moved and I'm without full-time employment, so I've had a lot of time to recover from my former job.  It was a bit stressful.  So, I've done some baking, some reading, some volunteering, a bit of cooking, and some recovering.  

Before Christmas, I baked dozens of cookies with my mother-in-law.  

Last week, I baked some cinnamon pull-apart bread.  That didn't last more than 2 days.

And then, my husband and I, mostly my husband, fixed up our closet so we can actually hang up our clothes.  It turned out really well.

In between all these projects, I have to find things to do with myself.  So, I think I'm going to start blogging a bit more and maybe working on my story.  Wish me luck.

Book and Movie Choices

In my three decades or so of life experiences, I've come to a few conclusions about when to read or watch certain things.  Most of the conclusions I've had to come to the hard way.  

Like the time that I watched Walker, Texas Ranger before I went to bed.  There was a serial killer and there was so much blood everywhere and I don't think I slept well for months.  I had nightmares.  I actually haven't watched any Walker since.   

There were the times that I watched NCIS or some other murder mystery too close to bed time and they invaded my dreams.  

And there were the times that I watched some murder mystery at night when I was at home by myself.  I don't think I slept much then, either.

Then there was the time that I read Wuthering Heights during a very gray November.  It was a bad idea.  I was already struggling with depression that fall.  Wuthering Heights just added to that.  

Just recently, I watched Catching Fire and Les Miserables within a week of each other.  Another bad idea.  I should have already learned my lesson.  I hadn't even recovered emotionally from the heart rending that is Catching Fire and I had to go and watch Les Miserables.  Both of these are excellent movies.  And I cried.  And the little bit of my heart that had survived Catching Fire was demolished by Les Miserables.  It took me weeks to recover from that.  Weeks.  

It was worse than when I finished Mockingjay.  

I suppose if you don't get tied up in stories emotionally, then you don't have to worry about all that.  And if your imagination doesn't hear sounds that aren't there or give you nightmares, then you don't have to worry about that, either.  

Because of the way I get wrapped up in story and the vibrancy of my imagination, I have to make different choices with what I read and watch.  No sad movies or books when I'm depressed or have the potential for depression.  No scary or suspenseful movies or books before I go to bed.  And no horror movies or books or TV shows, period.

What about you?  Any books, movies, or TV shows that you've read/watched at the wrong time of day/life?  Any times you've learned the hard way?

You know...

In thinking a little bit about my last blog post, and after talking to a very smart woman, I've decided that it's good to have goals, but it's another thing to obsess about what I can't control and what I can't get done. Because, honestly, I don't have a lot of time in my daily schedule to do everything I'd like to do.  And, well, I could probably manage my time a bit better and watch less television.

So I'm going to start small.  I'm not going to let go of my goals.  But I'm going to be realistic about them and maybe try to find a way to manage my time a bit better so I can do some of these things that I want to do.

That's going to be a challenge, though, with the new school year starting and my three of my weekday evenings filled with mentoring.  But, I think if I plan a bit better and not give myself such a rough time when I just don't meet my expectations, I might be able to make some small strides toward my goals.

Maybe.

We'll see.

But whether or not I get much closer to all these things that I want to do, I can still be nice to myself and not feel like such a failure when I don't accomplish all this stuff.

Talk about challenging, especially when this drive to get things done is ingrained in my being.


More on that next time.

Best of Intentions

I have so many ideas and I want to do so many things with my days, my weeks...my life, really.  But I don't end up doing much.  At least, I feel like I don't do much.  I want to get my spare room in order and get my books up on the shelves.  I want to take some computer classes.  I want to research interesting topics and write papers.  I want to get back into shape and be able to fit my clothes better.  I want to spend more time in Bible study and prayer.  I want to be able to finish that book that I've been sporadically reading for the past two years.  I want to be able to read non-fiction as much as I read fiction.  I really want to wash and vacuum my car.  I'd like to be able to cook healthy meals all the time.  I'd like to have a thriving indoor garden.  Honestly, I'd like to be able to keep up with the dishes.  I'd like to actually write the book that's stuck in my head and actually see it published.  I'd love to be able to publish a new post on this blog every day, or even once a week would be wonderful.

But it just isn't happening.

I wake up and get ready for work.  I go to work.  When I get home in the evenings, there's dinner to make and eat.  Then I spend time with my husband.  And then it's bedtime.  That's my life.

And I want to do more.  I want to be more.  I want to be someplace that fits me.

And I'd like a friend.


I have to tell you, though, I'm afraid to find a friend, afraid to find a place where I feel like I belong, afraid to begin something new outside of my home.  I'm afraid that I'll have to move away from my friend and wherever I find that fits and whatever I try to do.  I've moved so much already and I know I'll be moving again, I just don't know when.  So what's the point of making connections?  What's the point of trying to figure out where I fit?  I have work friends.  I have my plants.  I got quite a few tomatoes and some delightful herbs out of my potted garden this summer.  My orchids are still alive and so are my strawberry plants.  There are people at church who know me.  But I don't feel plugged in.

I feel separate.

Maybe it's my fault.  Partly, it is, I suppose.  Too afraid to reach out.  Too afraid to change.  Content to stay in my loneliness even though it's so...lonely.  It's a comfortable place to be.  It's unhealthy, but I don't want to move.  It's my spot.


I need to change.  I need to get past this fear.  And I need to find my motivation.