Free Write: Kellie Elmore (Resolve)

Description unavailable

Description unavailable (Photo credit: wakingphotolife:)

I stared into her eyes of lead. I would continue to stare until she blinked. She had been abusing me verbally for years. I would take it no longer;  she was the one who was mentally unstable not I. As a child and teen I spent hours sobbing from her nastiness, the cruel streak that ran up and down her ruthless spine. I refused to call my mother “mom” I could barely call her by her first name, Joyce. It was a little better when our dad was alive but not by much; she hid it from him but we knew better.

People who met her thought she was charming and well-mannered. Peals of laughter wafted from her enraptured audience, that sat around her at the tennis club. Her friends would hang on to every word.  I’m sure to the public she appeared charismatic. She introduced me to her friends without name, as if I were her maid. Maybe my extra twenty pounds didn’t fit her expectations of perfection or beauty. I had always felt ugly and ashamed of my body. As a child, I hated to shop with her, although she forced me to, never once thinking about why I didn’t want to go, not bothering to question me about it. Instead, she left magazines open on the oak, wood table in the kitchen with the New York Times open to the black and white pages of “Sleep-Away Camp For Overweight Girls.” Subtlety was not her strong suit.

She fully admitted that if she was in her twenties now she would have lived a different life. She would NOT have had children, she would have had a successful career,  she would have lived in NYC and would have been an executive. She would have gone to the theater, eaten dinner out in small Parisian cafes, lit by candlelight, attend the ballet. She wasn’t the “motherly type” we all knew that. We think Dad even knew that but he humored her. Her nurturing skills did not exist, there was no evidence of her common sense skills either. She blurted out words and sentences, never thinking about how the other person would feel, never knowing the hurt feelings she could cause because she only thought about herself. “She didn’t mean to do it” she would say as her defense; she would vow that she would resolve that problem by trying to change. We rolled our eyes; this was her standard line; we all knew that it would never last. She might try for a day or two but then she would turn it around and become nasty, trying to make us feel bad for her lonely life. My little brother, Brian, took it the hardest. All I wanted to do was protect him, to take him out of this house and run away.  I just needed a few more years to earn money and then I would take him with me and we would disappear. She could have the life she wanted then, we didn’t care. We just wanted to get away from her poison. We still hadn’t gotten over the loss of our father due to a massive heart attack many years ago.

Joyce was a troubled woman, an even more troubled child. Her own parents had been killed in an automobile accident when she was seven. She had been adopted quickly by a family who adored her yet she never got over her own anger. She never trusted another soul, because they could leave her too. As a mother she knew her children would leave her when they grew up, so why get attached to them? This was not the life she wanted anyway.

Haiku Heights – Snow

Sepia Snowflakes, Arizona

Sepia Snowflakes, Arizona (Photo credit: cobalt123)

Dancing its way down

Snowflakes!

Snowflakes! (Photo credit: nutmeg66)

Spiraling in frosty turns

Catch flakes, tilt back, laugh.

********************

Mud, slush, freezing rain

Shoes are wet, mind is weary

Sunlight, my savior. (alternate ending: get me out of here)

***********************

Big, puffy, snow flakes

Etchings in blue, red, yellow

Capturing the art.

*********************

The mountains of white

glimpsing the silver, ice tips

the igloo of love.

**********************

Snow is for children

Romps and sleds, hot chocolate

Marshmallow dreams.

Mellow Yellow Monday

Autumn Colors Eternal Infinity Scarf Orange Ye...

Autumn Colors Eternal Infinity Scarf Orange Yellow Brown (Photo credit: smittenkittenorig)

We all know I hate WINTER, so to ease the pain I have surrounded

myself in inexpensive scarves. My focal point in this one, is, of course,

YELLOW. I am trying to think of Winter as the precursor to Spring…

Remind me of that if/when I start complaining!

Happy Mellow Yellow Week to all of you.

Carry on Tuesday: Who has seen the wind? Neither I or you

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves (Photo credit: oddsock)

I am only one of the dappled leaves moving in the air as we  quietly dance on pointe in a ballet or more likely swirling around like modern dancers with beautifully colored scarves. We live together in our community of family and friends: red and orange, green, yellow, brown, all leaves together intermingling in the air waving to each other all the time. Next time we are out in full, watch our tips, like little fingers, we are always trying to touch each other, tickle each other and make each other laugh, we love this game. In answer to your question, yes, we travel together as a family.

Against the velvet blue skies people look up and stare at us, we look back down at them and see wide eyes of all colors: brown, blue, black, like little buttons. Under stormy thunderous clouds,  people look down and scuff their feet on us and mutter angry words; those aren’t our best days either.

When it is Autumn we seem to be most popular with people in their cars actually following us as we dance and play and flirt and cache. Our colors burn us with brightness, it’s a lovely feeling really, we become alive, we explode in our own skins. We blaze the sky with our lush, vibrant colors. We are our own theater, as we swirl and pirouette in the sky. Some people talk of “the wind” that makes us dance but we don’t know what wind is. I ask my friends do they know what the word “wind” means? Have they seen the “wind?” I haven’t. They don’t know what it is either so we just laugh it off and dance some more. We don’t spend much time with word games or any games except the one where we try to tickle each other. We live a simple, sweet life. We do love the attention and to hear the gasping sounds you make on the ground as you marvel at our colors and our performances.

We are a family of leaves, we care about each others happiness, we guard each others safety, we protect one another. We hide in the winter, we need to regroup after our fall showing, the performances we put on for you, we put all our intense energy into that. We love to do this for you for a little while but then we need to rest. We fade, we’re tired, we start to dry up. We hate not looking our best, we are all vain, it’s quite true.

We see each other when the festivities are over, when we people collect us all together before winter comes. We are swept away in piles with hands or rakes or with loud machines. We love it when children jump in us, just to hear their laughter makes us happy. Soon, we need to settle down to sleep, in the quiet corners of the earth, where we cuddle up with one another and lie close together smelling the musky scent of the earth.

Before the snow blankets us with white lace, we put our arms around each other and rock gently. Yes, it will be our time together very soon but not yet. We need to sleep, we need to rest as everyone does at some time. We huddle closer and closer and remind ourselves that without this icy blast, this cold frost we would not know any difference in our worlds. We only appreciate warmth and the sun because we have felt the bitter cold blast and have seen total darkness.

The Fibromyalgia Sorority- Update

Ping Pong game by Parker Brothers, The Childre...

Ping Pong game by Parker Brothers, The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

August 5, 2012

I promised an update and I keep my promises but it’s nothing “earth shattering” as my Mom is fond of saying. It’s just the same old, same old. I did go back to the neurologist for results but everything was fine. To me, that was good. He figured out that the tingling and imbalance could have been caused by the drug Topomax, but why I fell flat on my face for no reason he couldn’t answer. To him, he looked vaguely disappointed a) because he couldn’t help me and b) I was no longer of interest to him. He made that VERY obvious. The difference between the first and second appointments were like night and day. I stopped Topomax which now leaves me to go back to the Rheumatologist but I am not in any hurry. He was the one who prescribed Topomax. (Did he not know better?) From one doctor to another, I feel like a ping-pong ball.

Today, it is beastly hot and humid and I can barely get from the house to the car, this weather is not ideal for those of us with chronic pain, imbalance, weakness. There’s only a couple of days during a few weeks when we have ideal weather but that does not guarantee feeling well.  The winter is really rough, icy winds and snow but the summer’s humidity feels like I’m suffocating.

I went with my daughter to one store for shopping for college and there was no way I was going to miss it but I sure wish there were more chairs and benches to sit on for those of us who need a break. I’ve found holding on to a carriage is helpful and sometimes, if I really feel bad while I am there I can use the electric carts. I didn’t want to do that with my daughter but that’s a blog post of a different kind…..I’m sure those of you with teenage daughters understand.

How can we look forward to any day when we don’t know how we will feel? I used to set things up in advance, make plans with friends, go into the city, or to a movie or a museum. Now, it’s like the earth has to be aligned in 940 ways before I even think about it. Not too hot, not too cold, not humid, not torrential downpours and then we have the symptom assessment. What hurts, what doesn’t (rarely an answer there) have I slept well? Everything is so complicated now. I envy my old life, pre-Fibro, but I have accepted it is gone. I wish one or two of my family members would accept that too.

People still say stupid things and most people, unless they have Fibromyalgia, JUST DON’T GET IT.  Those of us who have it are unlucky members of a very big club. We understand EACH OTHER.  Fibro sufferers, if nothing else, be glad we have each other. Perhaps we could all become sisters (and some brothers) in a Fibromyalgia Sorority. Fi Kappa Fibro anyone?

Carry on Tuesday: Rain, rain, go away

Storm Clouds

Storm Clouds (Photo credit: freefotouk)

Scott and Sarah were days away from their honeymoon, excited to be going to Paris, France after their  sunny and warm wedding reception in Boston, MA. They couldn’t think of a more romantic place to go than Paris. To be in love and to be in Paris, enchanting and delightful, they imagined long walks, holding hands on the small, cobbled streets and kissing furtively behind hidden doorways. They couldn’t wait for the chocolate croissants, standing in the sunshine,  many cups of lush, thick coffee with cream, a different apple or pear pastry for every meal…..the intoxicating smell of freshly baked bread wafting on the side streets.

They arrived two days after their wedding reception, having spent one night in a luxurious room overlooking the Boston Harbor, a gift from their friends. They had been driven there from the reception, Sarah, still in her wedding dress and white sneakers, Scott in his immaculate dark blue suit and maroon tie. Sarah refused to change into another dress, it was her wedding after all and she delighted in seeing other people point at her and gasp: “a bride!” When little girls with pigtails looked at her in awe she smiled and waved at them. Watching a bride, when she was a girl, was always magical.

Their plane left in the evening and they flew on TWA straight to Paris. They arrived, excited, happy, in love, dreams dancing in their eyes. The weather the first day was colder than they thought it would be. Sarah, secretly thanked her mother who had insisted she bring a raincoat in her luggage.

The sky was gray and dark, winds were chilly and it rained within the hour. They made their way to their tiny hotel, dragging their suitcases through city streets until they finally reached their destination. Sarah was not happy about that, there were no rolling suitcases back then and she was tired, cranky and hungry and just wanted to close her eyes. Scott refused to take a taxi, absolutely refused, Sarah was furious and thus their honeymoon started.

Every day of their vacation in France was cold and it rained every single day. “Rain, rain, go away” Sarah sang out loud but she only got angrier when the rain did not let up. To try to get away from the weather they decided to rent a car and head South, they would salvage their honeymoon. However, wherever they went, the rain followed, the winds blew freezing air and the skies were dark gray.

Sarah was there over her birthday and they had eaten lunch in a rest stop on a toll road. They both ate chicken with rice pilaf. It tasted fine, but within an hour, Sarah was throwing up violently, over and over again. It was the worst case of food poisoning she had ever had. “Happy Birthday, ME” she muttered to herself, swishing her mouth out with Coke. They cautiously drove to a quaint, old town in the country where they stayed in a beautiful, old castle. From the outside it looked like a movie set but once inside it was eery and dark. There was no light in the hallways and in their room except for one hanging bulb, swinging from a thin rope.

They called it “the honeymoon from hell”, they couldn’t wait to get back to the US and their apartment. It was the worst vacation they had ever taken. Once home, Sarah, who had packed only one warm, black sweater as an after thought, ended up wearing it every day for two solid weeks. The first time they lit a fire in their fireplace, she tossed the black sweater in the fireplace, along with their memories and happily watched them burn up in flames.

Oscar And Cranky Me

English: A housecat named Princess who highly ...

*If I was a cat, this is what I would look like today. Cranky, disgruntled and sneering. That’s me in cat form. Just call me Oscar. At least I got to stay inside today while the human me had to go out. Oscar wins, as usual. Can’t you see it in his eyes? I’m a cat, stupid human, haven’t you learned that I always win? This is why in real life, I have a dog. She would NEVER look at me like this.

I started my awful day going begrudgingly to the grocery store. I didn’t have the “Senior Coupon” for the five percent discount but the not-so-sweet cashier just glanced at my lined face and said it was okay, that should have made me happy but it didn’t. AT ALL. I came home and noticed my dog pooped in the house, (SHUT UP OSCAR.)When she has an emergency she only poops on my favorite rug in the living room with the multicolored squares, that did not improve my mood. Our new white outside door that has been fixed numerous times broke while two friends and I watched it whip off the hinges when there was a burst of wind. I felt like we were in the “Wizard Of Oz.”Now we need a new door. Then, I tried to sneeze and it got stuck and I got the stabbing needles in my nose that I hate.

My husband  has been in Seattle for four weeks with a three-day break home and that is just not right. Yes, we are grateful he has a job but this time of commute is hell for a marriage and a family.

He’s coming home in a few days and I don’t know if we are bickering because he has been away for so long or we just don’t know how to communicate well with each other anymore, especially long distance. He used to call me seven times a day and now it’s once at night and before was too much and now it’s not enough. I don’t think that’s good but that’s life and I have to deal with it, rather, we have to deal with it. I’m getting tired of dealing with everything all the time, alone. We do have two children who are teenagers, one is in college, the other a senior in high school, no words are needed. I’m on my own.

I’m tired of being chronically sick with pain, Fibromyalgia and TMJ, in the winter months especially is draining and all I want to do now is sleep but when I sleep my hands and fingers get numb and I googled that which is a very bad thing for me to do. DO NOT GOOGLE medical things, I have told others but once in a great while I slip into bad habits and google something for myself, which ends up in an anxiety attack, for sure.

I’m fantasizing about a vacation somewhere sunny and hot; I have a childhood friend Debbie who is living the winter months in Belize. If I didn’t like her so much I would hate her but it’s nearly impossible to dislike this person. I’m just envious of her “easy, breezy Covergirl” lifestyle.”It’s all about her, whatever she wants to do and when and I don’t know what that would feel like anymore, did I ever? Choices. Good for you, Debbie!

Last night, I tried to recreate a brussel sprout recipe that I had in a restaurant but it didn’t even come close. I have lost 15 pounds but I seem to be stuck here and that is getting very frustrating. I know it all, plateaus, blah, blah, blah but still, I can’t give up and I’m food deprived and please don’t lecture that I shouldn’t be hungry because the lecture won’t work on me AT ALL. I’m as stubborn as hell and that’s the way I am and always have been. I also cooked a veggie burger that I managed to destroy and it ended up as hard as a hockey puck, I thought it was just still frozen so I ate two tiny bites and then microwaved it again, tried it  and I couldn’t even chew it. I ended up having a huge portobello mushroom with a piece of old, hardened Alpine Lace cheese and I hated my dinner. I also woke up all night long with sharp pains of TMJ stabbing me in my cheek and jaw line and it hurt, a lot.

So here’s a post about nothing and everything, all in one. Nothing lyrical or poetic, nothing emotional or powerful, just ordinary stuff on a night when it’s freezing outside and no one really understands how you feel. Once in a while you have to accept these days of pain and loneliness, bad food, bad spirits and no one can make it better for you, not even you.

The Weather's Effect on My Mood

Dedicated to all the people who have SAD

gloomy weather

When I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is look to the upper left of our bedroom where we have a big, unadorned window. There, in an instant, I can automatically see what the weather is and it makes a HUGE difference to me. If it is dark gray (with or without a howling wind, cold or not cold), I just want to stay in bed and not crawl out from under the deliciously warm and soft, flowered blankets. If I have to go out I will force myself but it will be with much grumbling and I don’t feel happy. When the sky is bright and a robin’s blue and sunny, I automatically smile. I prefer warm weather but even if it is cold out and the sun is winking at me I can bundle up and go out. I can handle that better than dark, depressing skies. My mood is definitely influenced by the weather and I could NEVER live in a climate where it is dark, gray, cool and drizzling most months out of the year. I would be miserable and admire people who can do that and live happily. I would not be able to; kudos to those of you who can.

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To Comfort Me

Крем чорба од грашка

It is so harmfully cold outside, the temperatures are low and the winds are high so that it makes me not want to leave the coziness of my house. Recuperating from a nasty bout of bronchitis, yesterday I made my chicken soup, starting in the morning with chicken and onions, a carton of frozen peas, a bag of carrots, pepper flakes, a shake or two of salt and slowly simmering it all day long. Making soup is comforting both when I eat it but also when I prepare it. I’m not sure why; I can bake brownies but it doesn’t have that same calming effect.

Tomorrow, I will go to the grocery store to buy the ingredients to make pea soup: a bag of dried peas in their cozy mesh sack, with pieces of ham steak that I will slice on the diagonal, chopped carrots, celery and onions. There is nothing like comfort than a bowl of  soup on a cold winter night. It’s not as if my mother or grandmother ever made home-made soup when I was a child, actually my mother did make her own chicken soup, I remember that. Maybe my love for soup started there. We also had tomato soup (Campbells) from the can where we would add half a can of water and half a can of milk and we would float a slice or two of Kraft American cheese on top. When we got older we crumbled  those little packets of crackers, Saltines, and we would wind up with a lovely blend of gooey goodness. Mushroom soup too, from Campbells, was always a big hit, made with milk as well.

I will drape a navy blue shawl around my shoulders and sit at the black pearl counter top on a stool by myself. My bowl of soup steaming in front of me, my dog at my feet. The chilliness outside the door forgotten as soon as I settle myself and get the right spoon and the right bowl for my home-made dinner of thick pea soup, made with love. A gift to my family and to myself.

Tis The Season For Eppiglottitis To Be A Bitch, Again

22 | Co-amoxiclav

Oh Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, please let this be a false alarm. My throat IS sore, not tragically sore as in I swallowed a steak knife the last time I WAS hospitalized with Eppiglottitis so I do have a chance,  but just seeing the increase on my old blog “Calling Eppiglottitis  A Bitch Is A Vast Understatement” rise in numbers,  my chances of getting it again are on the rise too. No really. I feel the first signs and I am not happy.

Poor people, write to me right away and tell me if you too have the stabber-sicker -than- death -disease now. Or is it just panic setting in for all of us. This is the first time in a year that I have felt poorly and while I have lost my voice I feel the need to have someone stand nearby with some calming chemical that might or might not be legal near me…..just in case. Last time at one appointment my lovely internist promised me morphine if this should happen to me again. “Drugs,” she promised, “Heavy, duty drugs.” I trust her but I haven’t even gone to see her yet. I feel like I’m playing roulette here. It’s the only time when I feel like a “playa.” Uh-Huh.

Besides, trying to get through to the big medical practice where I go on a Monday morning in the winter is I N S A N E. It really is, you could die and get buried and have a service before they pick up the phone…and I’m not saying they are lazy at all. They are just really, really busy and everyone is trying to call to make that same day appointment, press 2.  As for me, I tried, I really tried and held on for as long as I could manage and then I just hung up. It wasn’t worth it anymore and I was so tired that I gave up and took a really long nap even though there were workers on the roof making essentially painful noises like jack hammering but it was better than being on hold and having some fake secretary voice tell me to “be patient, someone will be answering your call soon.”  That never happened.

I’m holding on for another day, I’m sipping huge quantities of Progresso chicken and dumpling soup and drinking cranberry-pomegranate juice with semi-crushed ice cubes from a blue and white straw and hoping against hope that all this misery will go away in a day or two and it won’t get worse. That for once I can be a “normal” patient and tomorrow I will be all better. It would be nice if the kink in my neck will work itself out and that all my symptoms will go away with no need for a Z-pack or any other kind of antibiotics or cough medicine/ medication. Yeah right.

Tis the season for colds and the flu. Tis the season I always want to move, someplace warm. I mean it. Really, I do.

*****

Next day:

Laryngitis, coughing all night, sore throat still, I made the call, this time it only took me 30 minute to get through. Going in at 4pm. Will post later.

Went to the Dr. and while I saw a Z pack in my future, she saw an Rx for Augmentin in mine. Augmentin. For Bronchitis.

Blech

It’s going to be a really long ten days.