My 5 stages

Psychologists have identified five stages of grief:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Here's my take on my five stages:

1. Denial. Wow was I in that stage a long time, probably about two years. At one point my counselor at the time (a true genius who helped me in ways I'm only beginning to understand) told me I should inform my health care professionals that I am doing denial so they would take everything I reported to them with that in mind. "How are you feeling today?" "Super, thanks for asking!" "Okay, she's clearly an unreliable witness to her own life."

2. Anger. This one has been a recurring theme. These stages don't work in a linear fashion. This confounds and annoys a concrete, sequential, linear, analytical person such as myself. Throughout this process I've been angry at everything and everyone, especially myself. I crashed the car. I did this.

3. Bargaining. I did this with my attempts at treatment. "Okay, I'll go through these torturous injections and then I'll get better." Bargaining doesn't work, so then we get to...

4. Depression. This has been the longest lasting stage of all. Mixing in with other stages, defying therapy and pharmaceuticals. I'm still in depression.

5. Acceptance. I might be getting here. My new outlook and attitude on my life seems to have lead to this. But it's a tenuous situation.

So here I am. I feel the most alone and isolated that I've ever felt in my life. I know you all are there for me. But I'm still alone, trapped in my own personal hell. But, "When you're alone And life is making you lonely, You can always go downtown."

Click on the post title for Petula Clark singing a song that always seems to make me feel better.

Life in the "screw it" zone

My newfound attitude of "screw it" is strangely freeing and helpful. I find myself living one moment at a time, accepting the things I cannot change, and feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. This is not to say that I don't recognize how much my life sucks right now. Instead I stop obsessing and worrying and shaming myself over what I have no control of whatsoever. It's hard to let go. I'm not a "I quit" person. But laying it all down helps me realize there is absolutely nothing I can do right now. I might have moved on in my grief to the stage of acceptance... but let's not jinx it.

My true confessions

I still have my Christmas tree up.

That is a first in a series of things I would like to declare about my current state of being. Here's a bit more:

-I quit. I give up. Screw this. I'm done.

-I'm not going to do a damn thing.

-I am going to stay in bed all the time and watch Hulu and play on Facebook. If you have any recommendations for shows to watch on Hulu, I'd be grateful if you'd let me know.

-I am going to stay up all night and sleep all day. I'm a combination of manic and depressed and so this is what I'm going to have to do, otherwise I won't sleep at all.

-If I can't microwave a meal in three minutes or less, I won't make it.

-I'm going to continue my self destructive behaviors, including isolating myself from others, as much as I want.

-I'm going to do the bare minimum of school work to get by and attend class only when I absolutely have to.

-I'm going to leave the house rarely - mostly to take the dogs out. And speaking of dogs, I'm going to allow them to continue their nasty habit of drinking out of the toilet.

-I'm not even going to try to write anymore. I just don't have it in me.

-I'm giving up on all the things I could do if I could just access the hard drive of my dead and beloved computer.

There's probably more, but I think you get the picture. You see anything I try to do ends up in me being in lots of pain and the neurontin isn't donig squat to help and I am so, so, so f-ing tired of the pain. This has been nearly four years of the shit and I am done.

Beating my head against the wall for all the things I want to do but can't and trying to do things that put in a predictably high amount of pain is counterproductive. I'm just done.

For now.

I'm taking a break from trying. I don't anticipate this lasting too long. But just in case I'm still lying in bed with my icepacks and my Hulu in, oh, let's say three months, please feel free to drive to Eugene and kick my ass.

That is all.

There's a reason why they call them a "battery" of tests

And that is because if you go through that much testing it is a freaking battery.

Today I had my appointment the judge set up for me. It was with a PhD at DBA emotional education services. I got there at about 20 minutes before my appointment time, but he wasted no time in getting started.

It was nothing I had been expecting. He put me through a series of four tests. I wrote down the names in case you are interested. They were:

-Wechsler Intelligence Scale IV
-Wechsler Memory Scale IV
-Trail Making Test
-Aphasia Screening Test

Holy crap.

The whole thing took nearly three and a half hours. Following the testing he conducted a brief interview. There were lots of questions but we didn't delve very deep.

Part of the first test included defining a series of words he asked. I am totally bragging but I defined every single one. But how the next test went bothers me. It was to assess my memory. I did terrible. I couldn't remember basic shapes, patterns, word pairs, or even anecdote details. It's really bothering me.

The last two tests were pretty basic. They were to assess brain damage and I'm pretty sure the results will say that I am not brain damaged... amaged. (Had to through that Homer Simpson reference in there, couldn't resist.)

That was basically it. I left exhausted and still am.

Oh, but two things were weird about this appointment. He never introuced himself or introduced what we'd be doing, I had to pointedly ask on those two points. And also, when he asked me how I spent my time and I said watching hulu, he had no idea of what that was. Don't worry; I didn't break out into a big Broadway number about how hulu is the greatest invention since the iPod or anything.

Big sigh of relief. One more hurdle hurdled.

When were you last happy?

I hope your answer to the title of my post is something like now, all the time, always!

But I've pondered this because I remember a scene from a movie (I forget which) in which one character says he thought he'd be happy once his dream came true, but in reality he was miserable. The other character tells him to think back to when he was last happy and go do that again.

It's 3:10AM and I can't sleep, as usual. My appointment with the mental health guy is at 2PM today. No doubt we have to hash out the crippling emotional pain and depression, yada, yada, yada.

So I've been thinking: when was I last happy?

A few years ago I was deliriously happy. I had a great routine with a man that made everyday special, even the ordinary was special. I had some wonderful routines with him, like Sunday morning coffee and clipping coupons because it was a big hobby at the time. Or sitting in bed playing The Sims on our respective computers and comparing how our games and stories were progressing. Or lying in bed talking about our dogs and our future and even our some day children.

There was a time right after my surgery in August 2007 when I had a horrible spinal headache for about a month and I had to wear this cumbersome and awful binder around my stomach so my pump would settle in right. I would spend the majority of the day knocked out by hefty doses of oxycontin and then when my husband got home he would help me out of the binder and I would get to take a shower, slowly peeling off the surgical glue still affixed to my sutures. I would use the most wonderful body wash from the Body Shop and come out feeling like a million bucks. He would re-apply the dressings on my sutures and help me back into the binder, and then for a brief hour or two we were husband and wife. It was a horrible time. But I looked forward to seeing him and going through that little ritual every single day.

This may sound melodramatic, but I never felt truly loved and accepted for who I really am, uncensored and impolite and "unladylike" and just really me until I met my husband. I always felt that people, family and friends, loved some idea or some version of me. And I always tried to be that version or idea to seek their love and approval.

So to make a long story even longer, this is when I last felt happy.

But I want to be happy again. Having a taste of it makes you crave it all the more. And I think if I wasn't in so much pain and I could actually do things in my life, I could be happy again. But I have to say I am grateful and indebted to the man who showed me what happiness was and who gave me such a rich amount. I think it was inside me all along. I think it is there now, just lying dormant, waiting for my spring.

A little clarification

I just want to make it clear that the last post was not directed at anybody or anything, but just me venting. I'm grateful for the people who want to help me, for all of you who do. I am grateful.

That was a hell of a rant. But keep reading. This story has to get better, right? :)

What to call this? Pressure from people who care?

So my brother/roomie blabbed to my sister about my friend's generosity. Now my sister is insisting that I make an appointment, keep her up to date, and yes, she wants to pay for it.

Dealing with this pain issue has made me turn inward, become more reserved, more hesitant to share, and certainly reluctant to talk about it. More to the point: I hate to talk about it. Blogging is my only outlet, except when I mention the amount of pain I'm in on a given day to someone who asks.

So now I am expected in no uncertain terms to produce results: a doctor's appointment. And I just don't feel like I can accept the help. I've been doing my best to isolate myself from others. This kind of opens that up. Maybe it's healthier, but it is emotional very painful.

Because the thing is, if I share this, if I really open up, all I have is the raw power of the emotional and physical pain. And I start voicing my questions like:

Why me? What have I done that was bad enough to deserve this? I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but do they really warrant this?

What if I never get better? What if this is my life for here on out? Meaning, what if my life basically ended at 27 and now I'm supposed to just lay in bed watching Hulu and going through the motions of living?

Will I ever be happy again or will there just be stages of more pain vs less pain?

Will I ever get to run again, do cartwheels again, dance again?

Will I ever be a fit enough parent to adopt children as I was on track to do before this accident?

Will I ever get to be a doctor or is that just a stupid delusion and nothing more?

At what point will I just lay in bed in my own filth and never get out again?

This sounds like a pity party gone awry, but really I'm questioning the fabric of existence. I'm tired of hoping and having it not work out.

What do you people want from me? Can't I just give up? That's what I really want.

How can I trust you? Huh? How can I?

My "dirty red bandana" lover

The title of this post refers to a particular friend of mine, one who I met here in Eugene who then moved away to Connecticut for a job opportunity she couldn't pass up. A true hippie at heart, she loves the Dead and really does wear that dirty red bandana, and does on occasion sing the blues (usually there is whiskey involved).

I miss her so. I had no idea how much of Eugene was her to me. Now it feels empty and boring.

But I write about her now not because I'm just missing her, but also because what she wants to do for me.

She wants me to find a doctor, get pain killers, and she wants to pay for it out of her own pocket. And she's being serious. I don't think she'll let me off the hook about it either.

I think I want to take her up on it. For some time now I've been wanting to be back on the pain meds. I feel like I am at the end of what I can stand. And I don't know how much longer I will have to wait to hear about the outcome of my hearing.

I don't have a lot left in me for anything. At all. It's too much. It's more than I can bear. I just can't take it anymore.

But maybe I can take it just a little bit longer if there is someone out there like my friend who is willing to be so kind. I'm so touched. So touched.

As you know, I try not to use names in my blog. So my dear friend, you know who you are. And I love you.

PS Click on the title of this blog for my dedication to you.

A court ordered appointment

Last week I got some vague information from Allsup, the company helping me with my disability appeal. They said I had an appointment the judge scheduled. The person I spoke with knew pretty much nothing other than that. They said I'd be getting something in the mail from the court.

I still haven't gotten anything in the mail from the court. Someone was supposed to call me back from Allsup, but I got tired of waiting and called them, since I had no information on this.

This is what I found out:

I have an appointment with a PhD at some place called DBA Emotional Education Services. It is next Tuesday the 23rd at 2PM.

I am relieved it is not a doctor's visit. I didn't want to end up with another doctor who was a specialist in nothing not listening to me about anything.

A big part of my claim has to do with the depression. So this appointment makes sense.

But I was told it may take 2 months from the appointment date for the judge to make his decision. Crapola. But at least it's news.

For the love of food stamps

At the end of last month I got signed up for food stamps. There was a bit of red tape for me, but as soon as I qualified it was great because I learned that student loans are not considered income and I received the full amount: $200/month.

What an incredible thing. To know you have money for food. Real food, not Ramen Noodles. I hate the fact that I have to be on food stamps, but I love being able to go grocery shopping and have some choice in what I purchase ($5 doesn't equal a lot of food choices).

I am trying to get back into the gratitude mode, thinking of the good things in my life. I am grateful for food stamps.

Change sucks

I hate change. I think even if I won the lottery, the change would bug me. What am I complaining about this time?

I just got a new laptop, a stop-gap measure in a $330 Acer from Besty Buy. Someday i will have a new Mac that I salivate over, but until then... I have to say, I am so excited and grateful to have it. I was lost without a computer. But it is soooo different from my beloved old computer. Windows 7 is so different from Windows XP.

I think it is poopy.

But maybe I should take a lesson from my dogs, again. They used to hate rain. In Boise if it was raining and they needed to go to the bathroom, they'd hold it rather than go out in the rain. Now in Eugene they just associate going outside with rain. Even when it is raining sideways. Doesn't phase them.

Why oh why can't I be more like my dogs?

What would make you truly satisfied with life?

I read something posing this question. Then I asked myself, what would make me truly satisfied with my life. The results were enlightening.

The list wasn't short. But the things on the list weren't huge. For example, win the lottery was not on there. There were items that were predictable for my situation. For example, not being in pain everyday was a big one.

But there were some that surprised me. And the lack of some that I thought would really make my life complete were noticeably absent.

Interesting.

My hamster wheel

Life feels like one long waiting game. When you get done waiting for one thing you are waiting for another. It's impossible to live in the moment when your whole future is tied up in something for which you have to wait.

"I Am Waiting" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti (one of my favorites by one of my favorites) sums up how I'm feeling:

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
Of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the second coming
And I am waiting
For a religious revival
To sweep thru the state of Arizona
And I am waiting
For the grapes of wrath to stored
And I am waiting
For them to prove
That God is really American
And I am waiting
To see God on television
Piped into church altars
If they can find
The right channel
To tune it in on
And I am waiting
for the last supper to be served again
and a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the great divide to be crossed
and I anxiously waiting
For the secret of eternal life to be discovered
By an obscure practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and TV rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am waiting for retribution
for what America did to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for the American Boy
to take off Beauty's clothes
and get on top of her
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeting lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder