The Pain of Fibromyalgia

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I don’t write about it often. At times. the mental pain of B’s five year affair has occupied me enough so I figure who really wants to listen about the physical pain that resides in my body…not me. Usually, I ignore it. Pretend if I don’t acknowledge it that it doesn’t exist. But the pain of fibromyalgia is often with me and for the past month it has been my constant companion My legs burn all day long and at night I wake up often as the burning pain creeps from my toes to my thighs rumbling like thunder across the grassy plains.

The soreness and muscle fatigue also snake through my shoulders and down my arms until my arms are so heavy it feels as if they are pulling a tank.  My neck often feels as if it is missing the very threads needed to keep it on straight as if the parts don’t line up and the awkward angle throbs. Combined with the fibro fog in my brain which makes studying almost useless and retention of facts nearly impossible..well, let’s just say I have had better days.

Usually I have managed to keep the pain at bay by keeping stress down, meditation, light exercise like walking and getting enough rest. But since I left B the pain has intensified to the point of being unbearable at times. I don’t know if it because I am under a different type of stress or if the sadness I am feeling is just making itself at home throughout my body. Or perhaps, when I had my family I was so busy and was depended on to such an extent that I couldn’t just sink into the pain and let it envelope me. But now, in this new life I hurt. Every inch of me aches and this physical pain combined with the mental torment has produced a tsunami that is pulling me under. Today the pain was so bad it was difficult t get out of bed without crawling on the floor first to find the support I needed to lift myself up.

THIS SUCKS.

Long story short, I went to the doctor today crying like a fool and she has put me back on the typical meds available to fibromyalgia patients. There really isn’t a great treatment available unless you go the Dr. Paul St. Armand way which is probably the closest thing to finding a path towards relief. I have his book…somewhere… and plan to look at it again when found.

In the meantime, I have decided to try and get more sleep, eat more greens and increase my meditate time in an attempt to cleanse my body of things that damage it instead of holding on to those things that keep it in a state of disrepair. Perhaps with the meds and taking better care of myself I can bring myself back from the brink of never-ending pain to that of just manageable pain…and with it a way to view life in a more positive way because I am tired of these “growing” pains.OIP-1

 

Grocery Store Blues

Almost every morning I arise and recite some positive affirmations which I find brings positive thinking to the forefront and negative thinking into the further recesses of my mind. Unfortunately, I have neglected to do so for the past several days and it all caught up to me today in the grocery store.

Since I left my home and family I find that the hardest thing is for me to do is to go to the food store. Frankly, it is the loneliest place on the planet and I find this is where these life changes that I am facing knock me flat and kick the shit out of me.

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I used to like to go shopping. When you have a family as big as mine and cook just about every night; the grocery store is a place of endless ideas. It is a positive place that you can go to show your appreciation to your spouse and your love for everyone in the house by getting foods they enjoy and then cooking them and preparing them with love in your heart.

Since I have been single I have found the grocery store to be my own personal nightmare. Sure I get to pick what I ALONE WANT TO EAT but there is a true emptiness in doing so. I really have no desire to cook a fancy meal for me, myself, and I; so my shopping cart looks barren and desolate like the basket of someone getting over the flu.  Few things in it and none of them very exciting or wholesome. Lots of healthy frozen dinners, milk, yogurt, lettuce, carrots and that is about it.

Which is why I became shaken while walking the aisles today. I found that I had a very strong impulse to leave the cart sitting in the meat section and run out the doors. I have never had this happen to me before and it felt disconcerting. At took everything within me to stay and continue what I had come in for. It wasn’t a panic I was feeling. Just an all encompassing sadness. All I could think of as I cruised around was the laughter around the dinner table that I so desperately miss along with the appreciation I felt for a job well done. And all of this exists no more in this life that I am creating. It took everything I had in me not to break down in tears in aisle 13 (coffee) aisle 8 (school lunch snacks) and the produce aisle where golden apples once beckoned like the sun. My eyes were so thick with water that when I opened the freezer door I misjudged and slammed it hard into my forehead almost knocking myself out. WHAP!!!!! Just like something out of an I LOVE LUCY episode.

Some sweet teenage boy looked at me and said, “Hey, lady are you okay?”

“NO, NO IAM NOT.  I AM NOT OKAY. I AM NOT OKAY WITH HOW THIS ALL TURNED OUT. DAMN IT!!!

I am feeling:

Sad

Scared

Weary

Lonely

Vulnerable

Excited at times

And pretty much feeling worthless and unsure of myself…like walking the plank over an ocean full of thrashing sharks waiting to nibble at my bones.

I know it will get better. I know that someday I will be creating new memories of dinners with new friends and neighbors which will make perusing the aisles fun again. But for now the grocery store is the loneliest place on the planet and it is a place I just don’t want to visit anymore. It holds too many good memories and its shelves are stocked with expired items that are not mine to put into my cart. I can no longer taste the flavors of life at the dinner table anymore only the cardboard wrapping that protects what is inside.

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What Do I Want To Reflect?

One of the nice things (if you can call ANYTHING about divorce nice) is that I get to start over, While moving is usually exciting to me this time I find everything seems muted, Colors, sound, views…all different than before. Almost like seeing everything in black and white instead of in beautiful vibrant color.

One of the things I am starting over on is my home. What do I want it to reflect when someone steps inside? How does it identify who and what I believe? After 32 years of marriage who am I ALONE? What do I want people to glean about me when they enter my domain? And so I have been working on this the past week and would like to show you a few of the results….starting with the kitchen.

I paired an antique french table with these modern chairs. I think it says a lot about who I amIMG_3893

Next is the formal living room. Since I left my beautiful baby grand piano back in Texas I find the room has doubled in size! I have a corner to fill but other than that it is done.

First I went on Craig’s list and found this old desk which I brought home and painted. I paired it with a chair from Ross Dress For Less which cost under $50.

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Remember the Persian Rugs that I bought and that B hated well I think this one looks really good with the sofa. I found the modern chair to pair with my art deco cabinet as a floor sample and swept it up for under $175. Yes, I bought that beautiful velvet Green sofa off of Wayfair and I LOVE it. So tired of the former all brown “Family”  look.

 

I have had this large scroll painting since I went to China the last time but had no where to hang it. With that big boring blank wall hogging up the space I decided the Giant Tibetan Mastiff and his girl really needed a home there. I love this picture because it reminds me so much of Tibet…the kids with smudges of dirt all over their faces no matter where you went.

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Finally, I had this other picture from Ethiopia and have never done anything with it. The dimensions were such that it could not be framed so I solved that problem by filling the landing wall with it.

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I hope through these pictures you get a glimpse of who I am.

Today, I also got off my ass and went for a three mile walk. Here are a few pictures of what I saw:

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Driving a U-Haul Across Country

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So I made it home safe and sound in record time. If we count the near misses ( the car almost falling off the tow dolly and the freezing temps when I could not find a hotel and slept in the truck) well, I guess I can count my lucky stars that I am still in one piece racing across the country like Mario Andretti.

Driving across half the United States in a U-Haul by yourself gives you plenty of time for self reflection and a lot of time to release all the hurt and anger. Mile upon mile the conversation went something like this:

‘HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU ANYMORE! GET OVER IT!!!” (add loud screaming while this was being said out loud as I passed a million truck drivers looking at me like I was nuts)

“So this is your opportunity to craft a new life for yourself…how are you going to do that?”

THAT FUCKING PRICK!!!

I HOPE SHE GIVES HIM A DISEASE!!!!

“You have got to let go of this anger. it is only hurting you.”

“Maybe China would be a good start.”

THAT ASSHOLE! HOW DARE HE REPLACE ME!!! (He will marry her when our divorce is finalized)

When he realizes our kids are probably going to move to be with me at the end of the school year then it will hit him all that he has lost due to his thinking with his dick!

“Okay…cancel, cancel, cancel….Look at the pretty blue sky…anything to get your mind on something else!”

Gosh, I can’t believe that trucker wanted my phone number…ain’t happening dude!

“NHI YOU FUCKING CUNT. HOW DARE YOU DESTROY THIS FAMILY. I GET IT…YOU WERE SELLING CABBAGE RIGHT BEFORE YOU MET US. I GUESS THE BOOKS I SENT YOUR DAD AND THE MONEY I SENT YOU WASN’T ENOUGH AND YOU SAW THAT B WAS A MUCH BIGGER CATCH. BUT YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH YOURSELF…ONLY YOU DO AND YOU HAVE NO CONSCIOUS.”

“Okay, you can’t blame her. She was just trying to lift herself out of poverty and it was B who broke his vows to you…not her!”

Let’t try this again…concentrate…what do you want to be when you grow up and reach 70 in 11 years? How are you going to achieve it? How do you want to be remembered? What is your legacy?

FUCK THIS LEGACY STUFF! I DID HAVE A LEGACY AND NOW IT HAS BEEN TURNED UPSIDE DOWN AND BACKASSWARDS!

HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU AND HASN’T FOR A LONG, LONG TIME. ANYONE WHO HAS CHEATED AND HURT YOU OVER AND OVER AGAIN DOESN’T LOVE YOU…GET THAT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HARD HEAD!!!!

“Okay, he doesn’t love me. So what? I am still loveable even if he doesn’t!”

“I CAN DO THIS!!!”

FUCKTARD…FUCKTARD….FUCKTARD…(must have been said 10,000 times)

“Okay, you have a lot of offer the world. What do you mean what? Well…I am funny,  persistent, hard working, adventurous, fun loving…hold a decent conversation,,,and I look hot in thigh high black boots…I mean really how many almost 60 yo can pull that one off!!!”

“Maybe a tummy tuck?”

Nipple piercings?

“Maybe now you can finish your novel…hey….that thought for a new novel is brilliant!”

SLOW DOWN FOR GOODNESS SAKES…IF A COP PULLS YOU OVER YOU WILL START CRYING AND THEY WILL PROBABLY THROW YOU IN A CELL BECAUSE YOU ARE ACTING LIKE YOU ARE OVER THE EDGE….OKAY…THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT!

“I like it…maybe joining the Peace Corps isn’t a bad idea…and look at that…an assignment in Madagascar….now that would be exciting! If you are going to have to start working again at this age it has to be meaningful work!”

And so it went for almost 2000 miles. By the time I got to my home I was hoarse from all the shouting at myself, asshole and mistress. My eyes had a permanent bloodshot and glazed look about them after all the tears. But I also had released all five years of deception, lies and destroying myself as I tried to be someone that would make B happy but couldn’t because it really wasn’t about me at all. It was about him. A man who is a coward. A man who thinks fantasy is reality. A man who didn’t tell his therapist after two years of seeing her that he was having an affair. A man who couldn’t share his feelings and blamed me for it. A man who on the second day of meeting NHI said to her as I was taking their picture together on the steps of the palace “You are going to be my second wife!”

And me? I am sad. I am relieved. Not living with a liar is a gift.  I have a chance to become whatever and whomever I want to be. I can do some really great things for myself and others that will bring happiness and meaning to my life. I get to discover who I am at almost 60 without kids, spouse, and cats. I get to lead my own parade with clowns, floats and big brass bands.

Most importantly….I got another page in my book…. and I will use it well.

 

 

 

Stilettos

“Mom,” says Gracie. “I have an orchestra competition and I need black shoes with heels.”

Heels? I think. She can’t be old enough for heels, can she? There is no way. Just yesterday I was rocking her to sleep, picking out her clothes and teaching her to ride a bike. Heels? I am not ready for this! Heels means makeup, makeup means proms, and proms mean BOYS. Crap…not boys! Not yet! Not EVER!

An hour later we are headed for the store doing the joint mother/daughter thing to pick out her first pair of heels. As I drive a feel a pull in my gut warning me that I should just turn around and go home.

” I like these,” she says as she holds up a pair of 5-inch stilettos that any good hooker would covet.

OH HELL NO! explodes like white lightning throughout my feeble brain. My mother’s words of “No daughter of mine…” come flooding back to me and trip over my tongue on the way out of my mouth.

I feel compelled right here and now, in the middle of the shoe department, to the have “the talk” about what is appropriate and what is not at her age. As I drone on she grimaces, “oh moms” and rolls her eyes more times than I care to count but I think my point has been well taken until she whines…

“I’m not a little girl”

“You’re not twenty-five either nor do you have a job and you don’t earn your own money to buy the things that you want.”

“Of course I don’t have a job,” she shoots back. “I am only 12! But if I did I would be buying those shoes!” her hands gently caressing the soft black velvet.

I take this as a cue to hold up a pair of ballet flats figuring if I show her THESE, knowing she likes THOSE, perhaps we can find a compromise somewhere in this warehouse of shoes.

Gracie holds up a different pair with four-inch heels that climb up her legs like a vine on a tree.

“How about these?” she says with a smile that looks more like a dare.

“How about not.”

And so it goes until she shows me the 10th pair with heels that shoot you up towards the sky.

“Honey,” I ask. “Why is it that you are drawn to shoes with such high heels?”

“Come on mom, think about it. I am the shortest one in my class and on the diving team. No one sees me. Just once I want to look up at someone instead of them looking down on me.”

Finally, I get it. Her need for height is a need for being seen. For being like everyone else, in a world where Asians are often not seen nor heard. For being “looked at” instead of being invisible.

I give her a squeeze and suggest we find something that will give her lift but not up to the clouds. We finally settle on a two-inch inch wedge that gives her a little extra notice but not in that over-the-top teenage way.

As we drive home we talk about girl things. Things I once understood but don’t quite get now. Things I have forgotten as the years have rolled by. Big feelings that once threatened to overtake me when I was her age.

“Mom,” Gracie says. “I have a confession. I didn’t really want those big heels. I just wanted to see what you would let me get away with.”

“Really? Why would you do that?”

“Geez mom, I’m almost a teen. I have to start pushing the boundaries someday you know.”

I laugh and I know that she does, but I hope she will wait just a little bit longer before the boundaries are pushed all the way to Siberia. For the truth is it isn’t the boundaries that worry me it is the fact that she is my baby and there is a small part of me, in a world that moves too fast, that wants her to remain that way forever.

Gone For Good

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep I had a wonderful idea for a blog piece. I knew I should kick the covers off of my feet, trot downstairs, and write the idea down. But I didn’t and, of course, this morning I can no longer remember what that most excellent idea was. Believe me when I say it was fabulous because it was…the fringes of my mind tell me so.

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This isn’t the first time this “mysterious” loss of memory has happened. I have had “million dollar” ideas that would change the world in profound ways that were lost somewhere in my dreams. I have had ideas for novels fly down the rabbit hole and other important thoughts vanish into thin air upon awakening. But the worst thing about all this is that my memory loss no longer occurs only when I lay my head on my pillow but throughout the day as well. It’s getting scary.

Just yesterday, I walked into a different room three times during the coarse of the day and could no longer remember what I had come into the room for in the first place. I also call my children the wrong names to the point that they now answer to “Hey, you!”  And I have five pairs of glasses from five different periods in my eyewear life floating around my house because I can never find the current prescription pair.  One minute I have 20/20 vision the next 30/70….no wonder my brain seems so scrambled…it’s constantly getting mixed signals!

I have tried various things in an effect to improve my memory. For a while kale became my “go to” snack. I ingested so much fish oil that I started to grow gills. I increased my sleep time but than only seemed to increase the fog. I even bought one of those free improve your memory apps but it expired before I remembered to use it. Yes, I think I have tried it all.

You would think with all the pharmaceutical “cures” for this disease or that affliction that they could come up with something that would help those of us who are “memory challenged.” I have even gotten so desperate that I have considered pilfering my neighbors viagra because:

a. I know his wife doesn’t want to have sex with him anymore and I owe her big time because she has kept her mouth shut after what could be considered a blackmailable event.

b. I figure if that if little blue pill can make a dick go up then it certainly can make my memory quotient and IQ increase as well.  I am fairly certain that if it mimics what happens “down there” way “up there,” it should make my mind stronger, straighter and last much longer. And we all know that men’s brains reside in the head of their penis.

Unfortunately, “Tom” keeps this “family jewel” of a prescription locked up tighter than Fort Knox so testing my hypothesis is proving to be more difficult than I had originally anticipated. And while I would like to think viagra would increase my ability to remember things, with all my luck it would just give me “iceberg” nipples for the rest of my life.

When my friends and neighbors begin to realize the extent of my problem they tried to be tolerant and  kind but after you have stood them up for coffee five times it grows old. Yet, they still continue to assure me (I think) that this is only menopause fog and that it will get better especially once all of my kids are out of the house. These same friends have also begun to share their deepest darkest secrets with me knowing that within two hours I will no longer remember what they have said and they swear my advice is good as gold.Yes, I’m now the confessional priest of my neighborhood to such an extent that I am sure church attendance is way down and that the “Vatican mob” will be coming after me soon.

Yet, even with all my memory loss issues I still believe I am way ahead of the game and that a possible presidential run is in my future. After all, Hillary is unable to remember where 30,000 emails disappeared to and The Donald has uttered the words “I don’t remember” probably close to a million times during the hundreds of depositions he has given in court proceedings against him.

In the meantime, in an attempt to keep myself safe, I am contemplating a reverse tattoo which when viewed in a mirror will list my address and phone number so that I can make it home. And I think it might work …. if I can just remember that it is there.

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Mother’s Day

Back-to-School

Today is the first day of school and it is about as good as a man getting down on one knee and slipping a diamond on your finger. For moms all over the world this day sparkles and shines like no other.

I remember each of my children’s first day of Kindergarten. Everyone was excited and a bundle of nerves, parents included. Now it’s old hat as I go through the list that is burned into my brain like a branded cow.

“Do you have your…lunch, notebooks, backpack, pencils, school schedule?”

“Where are your shoes? Did you change your underwear? (yes, this question MUST be asked in my household) Go put on your socks! Hurry! or you will be late!!!”

” You didn’t brush your teeth. Go do it. Andre…the hair…brush your hair! Wait….you didn’t shower, Andre. Don’t argue…DO IT! Paul, go wash your face and put on your medicine. Make your beds!!! What do you mean you don’t like chicken salad…since when?”

And so it goes until all questions have been answered to my satisfaction and off we go, kids slightly nervous and me, the calmest I has been in months with a smile plastered on my face that is wide as the Grand Canyon and remains with me all day. Yes, this feeling is better than any happy pill that has ever been invented!

“You sure sound chipper,” remarks my dad.

“You look great,” another mom comments.

“You have a glow about you!” says the grocery clerk.

And they are right. After a summer of sibling arguments and hearing “I’m Bored;” I have the eau de parfum Ode To School #5 floating about me, the fog has lifted from my brain, and I am glowing more than I ever did when I was pregnant. For today is the first day of school and I happily refer to it as… Mother’s Day!

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Stars

So today I was determined to climb out on the roof again to paint the second coat on the shutters. As I was pulling the heavy wood and metal blinds up, they slid out of their holders and put a dent in my head. I immediatley became nauseous, got a terrific headache… the likes of which I have never felt before… and I saw stars. The kind of stars that circle around the head of  Daffy Duck or any Looney Tunes character who has had the unfortunate experience of being hit on the noggin.

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I spent the majority of the day in bed popping aspirin, groaning, and trying to remember if my DO NOT RESUSCITATE orders were on file at the local hospital… just in case.

Stars are  usually a glorious thing. When shining brilliantly at night they light our way to uncharted places. They remind us that there is something other than ourselves taking up space in the cosmos. They sprinkle the sky and our minds with hope when we wish upon them and they let us see history in its making. I still get amazed when I think that I can look back in history 20 million years just by viewing a star.

Stars have tremendous significance in our culture. We aspire to be stars in our own field of work and some aspire to earn a star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame. We shoot for the stars, they mysteriously fall from the sky, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, even love is written in them. Stars really are an unpredictable and incredible creation.

Sometimes as I walk this journey through Mid-Life and through a “maybe” divorce I look to the stars for answers. I look up and see both the shadows and light which seems to mimic the course my life is taking now. I realize that looking to the stars for answers sounds like something out of a child’s fairy tale. Comforting. Magical. And perhaps that is all it really is..one big illusion. Yet, I would like to think that the stars are lighting up and guiding me to the possibilities that lie within me…freeing me… from those black spaces so that I might get my sparkle back and shine brightly once more. And thinking this way gives me hope that someday I can be my own beacon for my children and that they might look at that light radiating outwards from me to help them find their own place in this world…wherever that may be.

Growing Pains…293 Days To Fix This

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B is away on business for the week. While away, he had dinner with an old college friend and he told K that we had been having marital problems. When he told me this I reacted in a way that surprised me…I was crushed. I wasn’t upset that B talked with her for we all need someone to talk to and to help us gain a different perspective. In addition, we all need someone to just listen when the tides of life are out so far it seems they will never surge to shore. And even though I understood his need to discuss recent events I was still disturbed.

What bothered me about this entire situation was something simple and honest. It is this… Just how long are we going to continue to define our relationship by the worst point in our lives together? How long are we going to continue to act as if our marriage is on terribly shaky ground?  How long will this rough patch be our main identifier of all the things we have accomplished/survived/created over the past 29 years?

This is not to say that we still don’t have important issues that we are trying to resolve. This does not mean that we don’t have some distance to travel to make our way back to one another. And this certainly doesn’t mean that there still isn’t a chance that things will not work out the way we have planned. But we are moving forward with honorable intentions and the belief that we can make this work. Because it has become apparent through therapy that being separated from one another would bring much greater agony and suffering to each of us then any of the pain we have endured in the past three months, let alone twenty-nine years.

Thinking about all this after B’s conversation got me contemplating our marriage and our family. We’ve had six children and have watched them grow up and some grow out of the house. And upon reflection, I realized that marriages are much like children reaching puberty and going through those horrible and painful growth spurts. In fact, much like teen-age growth pains, for the past year or two our relationship has hurt and ached. It had stagnated and was no longer thriving. Then finally new growth has occurred and we’ve growth taller together and flourished. This growth spurt has stung, ached and produced much anguish but now we are growing in the same direction at the same time and I want to preserve this sense of wonder and repair. I also want to act in a restorative manner and take a protective stance in regards to the many incredible things we had done to make this relationship not just survive but blossom.

One of these ways is acknowledging that we have come a long way in 29 years:

  • We put ourselves through college without debt
  • We have moved 15 times as B advanced in his career
  • We survived serious and hurtful family issues
  • We went through IVF four times in our attempt to become parents
  • We have three home-grown children and adopted three more
  • We’ve had three of our parents die
  • We have two boys with autism which has stretched our relationship almost to the breaking point, not because of them but because of all the extra expenditure of effort to get them what they deserve
  • I’ve had numerous surgeries, one kidney donation, and the intense pain of fibromyalgia
  • We have had issues that easily would have torn others apart
  • We have had job loss and loss of a potential business that we adored
  • We have excelled at what we have created in both work and play

And yet we have survived. Sometimes even thrived. And in that miracle I no longer want to feel concerned, scared or hurt by my worries about my marriage. I want to rejoice in it and the man whom has made it a mostly incredible, exciting and truly meaningful relationship for almost three decades.

So there. I’m done. And in trying to restore all that is good about this life that I share with a man who I love, I am thinking about changing the name of this blog. Maybe it will be myhusbandwantedadivorceovermydeadbody, or Are You Kidding Me? or maybe just ?.

Whatever I decide, I know the change will be for the positive…just like those growing pains that have improved my marriage and my life.