Stick in the Mud

Whenever I try to figure out how I became such a stick in the mud, I am mindful to stop trying to figure it all out. One thing I have always liked about myself is that I haven’t spent much time pondering, why this or that happened to me.

Last May, for whatever reason, I started getting severe migraines at an alarming rate. Sure, I’d had migraines as a teenager but they were sporadic. I could take to the bed for a day and then, move on with my life. Last spring, it became completely different and nearly constant.

Now, I know that I’m not the only one who suffers from chronic migraines, but in the past, I thought, “Meh, it’s just a headache, so no big whoop. Suck it up.” One of my dearest childhood friends began suffering with chronic migraines as a child and she still suffers. It wasn’t until last spring that I truly understood the challenges my girlfriend was up against.

Migraines have mostly ruined the last year of my life. They’ve battled with my relationships, my ability to be at my best at work, at home and absolutely anywhere I happen to be, and therefore, my sense of identity and self-esteem took a big hit.

I haven’t wanted to address the truth about this, even to myself. I mean, seriously… it’s just headaches. “Take some aspirin and move on. There’s a freakin’ pandemic going on and I have no right to complain about anything!”

Of course, I have been working with a neurologist who I believe is the bees knees. I trust him implicitly. We’ve tried a slew of medications and procedures, most of which I cannot pronounce. Last week, in partnership with my neurologist, we embarked on a totally new regimen. So, I’m writing this today because I feel better and I want anyone who’s reading this to know there’s hope for chronic pain sufferers. I’ve had time and space without my head hurting and it feels like a miracle. I’m sharp, funny and loving; all of which I desperately needed to be reminded of. It’s eerie as to how much my chronic pain seemed to alter my identity. In my own painful head, I became so completely miserable, I thought I would die. (And sometimes, the pain was so bad, I felt like I wanted to die.) Today, I feel more “me-ish” than I’ve felt in almost a year. I am very grateful for it.

So, if my clear, pain-free head continues, great. If not, I will keep trying new things to try and help myself.

For chronic pain sufferers, I see you and love you exactly as you are. You may be feeling 100% unlovable, but it’s just a lie your pain is telling you.

You are lovable, exactly as you are.

Me too.

Can/Can’t Canteen Can Can

…my smorgasbord of feelings…

It’s fully impossible for me not to notice AND acknowledge that when I reflect on my *smorgasbord of feelings over the past five months, it’s almost always associated with food. (see aforementioned reference to *smorgasbord)

Okay, it’s more than a casual food association. It may not even be “almost” always, but ALWAYS. My moods and feelings are like a vulnerable-loving-forgiving-physically-stagnant, casserole of emotions, covered in crispy french fried onions, located on an all-you-can-eat buffet of mostly unpredictable, hungry/foody/full feelings.

Buffet…Smorgasbord…Canteen…Chow Fest…FEELINGS.

It’s so interesting, because these days, I am generally peaceful. In many ways, I have never actually liked or loved myself (and others) more than while this pandemic has been going on. P. S. I am thinking about food right nowcheddar cheese on an egg bagel with honey mustard

Okay, I’m back.

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you’ll see that my daughter, Charlotte, has been baking and creating decadent treats on nearly a daily basis. A key fact is, I am not overindulging in her amazing culinary creations.

Bearing witness to Charlotte’s visionary process has helped me understand myself better. My imaginative and often funny thoughts of food – casseroles, carbs, KETO, vintage gelatinous “aspic-tacular” platters, buffets and canteens are all really healthy ways of coping with:

  • Missing people
  • Craving human touch
  • Concerns about money and being able to provide for my kids
  • My worry over other people’s health
  • Wearing pants inside out and backwards
  • Simply wearing pants
  • Wearing pants that, once fit and now feel like medical-grade compression wear
  • Seriously though… I’m not going to list everything. This is the last bullet point. You catch my drift.

Like you and most everyone, I’ve had to sit (long stretches) alone with myself. I never, ever forget that we’re collectively in this trauma together and not being alone, even though I’m physically alone sometimes, is incredibly comforting.

Also, even if I’m a little more than slightly flabby, I’m really not too shabby. I imagine the same is true for you.

So, even though I ate two dinners last night, (and thought of food even more), it’s not the end of the world. I mean, it doesn’t happen every night and in evaluating what transpired in that extra meal, one could say that I just had a really early breakfast. (Three hours after my original dinner.)

On a physical front, I KNOW I have to move my body more. I haven’t been too into “getting physical,” until I decided to start dancing at least 45 minutes per day.

Oh fine. I’ll move my tush.

Today, I danced for 90 minutes. As I moved my body, I thought about the aforementioned, vintage gelatinous “aspic-tacular” platter. I laughed as I danced, because the committee in my head was entertaining. It was hard to breathe, but I just kept going.

I even danced a “Can Can,” that I think seemed more like a “Can’t Can’t.”

But, it’s all okay. I mean, everything I mentioned in this post is okay.

Sure, I hope I eat only one dinner tonight. I pray that I’ll dance as hard tomorrow as I did today.

And all the while, I hope I can continue to laugh at and enjoy all of my food associations, my temporary flab and life on life’s terms in general.

I’m sending you so much love and virtual hugs. Please be gentle with yourself. You are a gift and very brave to be walking through this surreal time.

Stay safe and healthy. I hope we can have dinner together, (just one) soon.

When Thanksgiving sucks…again

I’m posting this again, not because the post below is so great, but because I hope anyone who feels sad, lonely, pissed off and/or fearful on Thanksgiving, to be reminded that:

  1. You’re not alone
  2. It will pass
  3. Holidays come with stress, often veiled in “should-ing,” pressure and lots of carbs, sometimes topped with crispy fried onions.

I hope that if you do feel crappy on Thanksgiving, you don’t beat yourself up for feeling the way you do.

I’m sending you love and acceptance of wherever you are, exactly as you are.


When Thanksgiving Sucks…

Continue reading “When Thanksgiving sucks…again”

Getting to the meat of the issues

I haven’t published anything in months. While there are enough heart-wrenching stories to tell, they aren’t for public consumption. Continue reading “Getting to the meat of the issues”

A Smart Old Bird

A smart old bird had vision.

She could see the tallest peaks and the deepest trenches,

at the same time…

And, even while she flew blind,

with clipped wings.

She never lost sight of the rich landscape.

The bird spent lots of time jumping over and around injurious terrain,

while awkwardly trying to flap her compromised wings.

One day, the smart old visionary bird

chose to look at her clipped wings for the very first time.

She noticed they were taped to her body

and not clipped at all.

She pecked off the gooey tape and celebrated her wings and the key lesson she’d just learned:

If she was to be a true visionary bird,

she had to look at and care for the condition of her wings,

even more than viewing the entire landscape.

Then, she soared

to look for other birds to fly beside.

Single Working Mom Seeks Understudy

This morning, the dogs woke me at butt o’clock, A.K.A. 4:20AM. I bundled up and took them for a long, slippery walk. It was crisp, dark and slightly foggy. I was moved to take photos because it was just so beautiful outside. I was grateful to my pups who forced me to be out and about in the quiet, without any cars or cares. After I snapped the photos, I put my camera away so I could be fully present for my walk. I tried to extend my freedom from thought or worry about anything in my day to day life. My brain, body and spirit are continuously seeking a breather no matter how brief it may be. Continue reading “Single Working Mom Seeks Understudy”

Loving John After My Break Up with Peter

It’s always been you, John.

Most people know that yesterday was the 38th anniversary of John Lennon’s assassination. If you know anything about me, you are aware that I am much more than just a lifelong fan of John Lennon and his music. I hoped to lose my virginity to John Lennon. Obviously, that didn’t work out as he was assassinated in 1980, but had he lived longer…. Continue reading “Loving John After My Break Up with Peter”

Cuticles, clouds & creativity to the core

As I was flat ironing my teenage daughter’s hair before school this morning, she acknowledged the “HUGE” growth on my right cheek. I think her words were, “You’re right, Mom. That zit IS HUGE!” She said it as if surprised that my description (for once), was totally accurate and perhaps, even understated. I have lovingly named my blemish, “Mt. Hellonacheek.” Continue reading “Cuticles, clouds & creativity to the core”

The Insomniac’s Dreams

Every so often, I get a wicked bout of insomnia. It used to strike with more frequency when I was younger and not so mellow and low-keyed, but it’s back and with a vengeance. Continue reading “The Insomniac’s Dreams”

The Megaflop Mom’s Mercy

When I had my daughters, I was self-employed. I had ample time to devote my full attention to my girls. Attending to them was innate – and very satisfying for all of us. What wasn’t great about my being self-employed, was having to travel and sometimes, internationally. I knew it was a gift to be paid so handsomely to see the world, but to be honest, I didn’t really like corporate public speaking. It was transient and while it was great that the “X-product/system 2.0” worked great, I sought more meaning for what I was pitching. I needed to get closer to helping humankind on a level that coincided with my core values. Continue reading “The Megaflop Mom’s Mercy”