Dysfunction ain't fun.

I haven't written in a while but I decided to talk about something that affects me every day- SIJ dysfunction (Sacro-Iliac Joint).

The degree of pain varies from day to day... Some days are good; other days, eh. Not so much. Last night was a bad one. My back had been killing me, literally causing tears (that I always attempt to hide because really, who wants to hear my broken record?) I called Jeff into the bathroom after I got out of the shower to check to see if I was out of alignment (forward flexion test- he basically creates a diamond shape over the iliac and sacrum using his thumb and forefingers, I bend over and if I'm out of alignment one finger moves and the other doesn't). Yep. It was out.

It's always the damn left hip that slips. I'm hypermobile on that side and hypomobile on the right. I had a series of steroid injections on the right side that helped somewhat but when my left hip slips out of place it's terrible. So anyway, I gobbled 2 Aleve, and had Jeff put my hip back into place. I'm sure that's his favorite on the 'honey-do' list. Ha ha. Went to bed and now I feel much better. Not pain-free mind you, but better.

I decided to write about this because while SIJ dysfunction isn't common, pregnancy changes many women's bodies and well, I have many friends with children and/or are currently pregnant. I think the medical community is somewhat dismissive of pain during pregnancy. They assume that every woman experiences it to one degree or another and that's it. I can't tell you how many times I was told that I just needed to suck it up. I mean, when I walked I could literally FEEL my bones rubbing and crunching. Every step I took was like somebody kicking me in the crotch with a steel-toed boot. Finally after threatening to quit my job (and thereby losing my health insurance which would result in my OB/GYN not being able to be paid) they sent me to a physical therapist and put me on home rest.

I can't tell you how amazing it was to have a PT tell me I wasn't crazy and that the pain I was experiencing was abnormal. She helped me be able to handle the remainder of my pregnancy without shooting myself but unfortunately the permanent damage was already done.

If those fuckers would have just listened to me when I brought up Pubis Symphasis Dysfunction... Now, because of the bone rubbing all sorts of wonky directions, I have early onset spinal arthritis and degenerative disk disease. AWESOME.


It's not all bad. I manage the pain most days. Controlling my diet is major factor. Gluten seems to create inflammation in my body so when I avoid it, it majorly diminishes the pain. Of course, I slip now and then- I'm human. After all, who can pass up a piece of cake? Exercise is incredibly beneficial too. When I walk about 2 miles a day I notice much less pain as well. Unfortunately it's about 5 degrees hotter than hell right now so I haven't been doing so well. All about to change. I'm going back to the place I miss, somewhere that completely changed my life for the better 7 years ago... the gym!  I'm looking into getting an SI belt that would hold everything into place. Definitely going to need that on the elliptical trainer. I've started practicing a bit of yoga to stabilize my hypermobile hip and I never let myself sit in one place for too long.

I don't know what the future holds for me. I'd love to go back to work in the pharmacy but pregnancy permanently disabled me. I don't know that it would be possible to stand (or sit) for upwards of 8 hours. I'm scared. I miss working like you wouldn't believe but I'm so terrified of the pain becoming worse. I know eventually I'm going to have to bite the bullet- if for no other reason than being a housewife/stay-at-home mom is NOT exactly my definition of a good time. SAHM have the hardest job in the world, and I'm kinda lazy. ;)

So that's it, my friends. If you suffer with chronic pain, please tell me your story.

Hi!!!

I haven't blogged in forever, so I wanted to just write a little something to say hello.

Jeff is back home! Yay! I have no idea how I managed things while he was gone, but I somehow did and I think it has made me a better parent.

Now to work on reclaiming a life for myself. I'm going to start by going to my favorite ceramics shop this weekend and painting a piece and have it glazed. I'm sure whatever I make will be for Alec, but it's a start, right?

Anyway, I'm also going to try to carve a little piece of downtime during the day as well. Like right now. Get my butt writing again.

So that's it. Short but sweet.

Where the Wild Things Are

and Max
the king of all wild things 
was lonely and wanted to be 
where someone loved him best of all.


Yesterday I received a package from Jeff. It was the book "Where the Wild Things Are" and a tiny little DVD. I had known that he had gone to the USO and filmed himself reading the book to Alec, but I was unprepared for how strongly it would affect us.

I gathered Alec up, snuggled him in my lap, handed him the book and pressed play on the remote control. Alec looked at the TV, turned around and looked at me. I said, "There's Daddy!" and he pushed the book aside and lunged for the screen. Jeff had recorded the video so that when he was done reading a page, he would put it to the screen so that he could show the pictures. In doing so, he slightly covered his face. Whenever the camera went back to him, Alec would crack up. He laughed, pointed, and said "Dada" over and over again. Every time he saw Jeff's face it would start him anew. I swear, I haven't seen Alec so happy and excited in a very long time.

Of course it killed me. Every time Alec laughed, I started to cry. And obviously I had to hide it from him. It felt like my heart was being stabbed. That was a strange mixture of emotion. On one hand, I was elated that Alec was able to 'see' his father, relieved that he hadn't forgotten him, and thrilled to see Jeff myself. On the other hand, it really cemented how much I miss my husband. I don't know how to describe it (imagine that! ME at a loss for words!) but it made me want to bury my head into Jeff's arm and never leave. I don't know if any of you have ever ached to touch someone.


 Jeff has recorded another book. We should receive that in a week or so. He wants to record a story every week on his day off, so that he can build Alec's library. I know that each and every book and DVD that Alec gets he's going to be so very happy. Hopefully, I'll get to the point where I don't feel like my heart is being ripped out. After all, I love what he's doing. It's truly the most wonderful gift a parent can give to their child... the gift of themselves.

Go AWAY!!!

Aug 6, 2006

What was I thinking??
This is really difficult for me.

I need closure. I need to be able to deal with this so I can completely let go of my past.

Here's the thing. I've always considered myself an open-minded, well adjusted sort of person. I know I've been through a lot of "difficult" things but this experience that you are about to read is probably one of the worst. I lost myself. Keep your mind open while reading this, even though it's a lot of information there is still so much more. If anyone ever has any questions, please feel free to ask. I'm not ashamed anymore.

In 1998 I met a man we'll name "M". When I first met him I thought he was a pretty cool guy. Attractive, quiet, mysterious. I found out about his past. He had come from a really tragic background, badly abused by his foster parents and I felt so bad for him. When we first began dating we argued a lot. I thought it was just a sign of all the passion we had for one another. The arguments escalated pretty rapidly. He would get mad about the most trivial things; being unable to locate the remote control would send him into such a rage that he would punch the living room wall. After several months of dating, we split up. I couldn't deal with that kind of temper and I think he thought I nagged too much.

In December of 1999 we began dating again. I was in a really vulnerable place. My best friend, Danielle had been murdered earlier that year and I was having a lot of trouble finding my place in the world without her. "M" had known my friend, and I thought he would be able to help me deal with the loss. I moved in with him. The arguments started right away. Now, I'm sure that I probably fueled some of the fire, but he would get really nasty. He had a history of cutting himself, and when we would get into really big fights, he would slash open his arm. One time I even had to take him to the Emergency room. He didn't just reserve his anger for hurting himself. He shoved me a lot, called me a bitch, was really ugly. Once in our 1st apartment he shoved me into the wall when a nail was sticking out and it went into my forehead.

Now, I'm not stupid. I've volunteered for women's shelters, and I knew I was in an abusive relationship, I just didn't know how to get out of it. I felt horrible about his past. I'd found out that when he was a child he tried to hang himself when he was told he was adopted. He was really badly beaten by his foster father, and I thought that there had to be a way of helping him become healthy again. If I just loved him enough, he could become the man I thought he could be. I should have known better.

After a year of living together "M" told me a secret. We had just come home from Insurrection in Atlanta, and I'd thought we'd had a blast looking at all the porno mags and what not. He sat me down and told me he felt dirty and ashamed. Crying, he told me about a secret fetish of his. "M" liked to wear diapers. I didn't know what to say. I was shocked, but confused. I don't know if I was ever in love with him, but I certainly know that I did love him. How do you respond to a secret like that? Was I supposed to pack up all my things and move out immediately? Part of me definitely wanted to, but then I also felt I could maybe help him work through this. See, in my mind, I felt he just wanted the comfort of being a child that was safe and loved. I knew that he had never gotten that from his childhood, and thought maybe I could see this as a form of self-therapy. I listened to him, and tried not to judge what he was telling me.

Time went by and "M" wanted me to now join him in his fetish. He wanted me to be the babysitter or the mommy in his sexual fantasies. He bought pacifiers, bottles, wipes, baby powder and of course diapers. He wasnt happy with adult types, he would buy the childrens kind and tape two together. He liked the rustling sound that the baby kind made. I was grossed out, but I didn't know what to do. Im a sexual being, and I'd engaged in fantasy role-playing in the past, so I just tried to go with it. I thought weird sex was better than no sex at all. Eventually he exposed more of his secret sexual life. I had noticed that my panties were sometimes missing, and I wouldn't be able to find certain clothes of mine. I confronted him and he confessed to cross dressing. Again, I was freaked out. I was seeing a therapist at the time, and she told me that perhaps "M" was just expressing his feminine side. For instance, if he had come home from worked and hugged a teddy bear would I be disgusted with that? I don't believe the comparison was fair, but I still tried to work around it. "M" started wearing the panties under his work clothes. He felt it helped him when he was at work stay close to Michelle (his pseudonym female personality.)

He still continued to be abusive. One night after some really heavy drinking, he attempted to have sex with me. Of course, now, I never felt like a sexual being. How can you when the man you're with looks better in lingerie than you do? Also, Im definitely not a lesbian. I didn't want to make out with a man wearing women's clothing and makeup. Anyway, when he came on to me, I tried to avoid his advances. One thing led to another that night, and I remembered him holding me down, me laying on the bed, his knees on my chest while I was crying. I got away for a little bit and he slammed me into a post in the living room, leaving a huge bruise on my arm. He pushed me back on the bed and head butted me. I dont remember the rest of what happened that night, it was a blur. The next day he cried and told me how sorry he was. He hadn't meant to hurt me, if I would just take him back he promised he would never again hit me. Like a fool, I believed him. To make things up to me, he would take me to Savannah, my favorite place in the world. Things were actually ok on that trip, but when we got back home, we wound up getting in another fight and he punched me in the face, blacking my eye. I called into work sick the next day. I told everyone I had gotten sick from some bad shrimp and while throwing up I had blacked my own eye.

I left him that week. I went to Atlanta and stayed with my friend Ryan. (He was the only person who ever knew what happened during the relationship.) "M" called me constantly, showed up at my work, left flowers on my car, and finally when he couldnt get a response from me, called me telling me he was going to kill himself. I left work and came to our apartment. He was laying in a full tub of hot water with long vertical gashes running down both his arms. He was bleeding a lot. When I left him that night I was deeply confused. I didn't want to be responsible for his suicide, but I never wanted to get hit again. That night I went out with an old friend. He told me he was dying. He was really sick, and didn't know how to handle it. I cried, not wanting to lose another friend and called "M" to talk about it. He asked me to come over, telling me he had started going to anger management. I moved back in. (I know, I'm a fool!) A week later I found out that he wasnt telling the truth. He hadn't gone to therapy at all. He had tried, but felt embarrassed, so he backed out of it.

A couple of weeks later we moved out of our apartment into a much nicer one. I felt like we could make a fresh start. For the next couple of weeks, it seemed like real progress. He had promised me that he wasnt going to wear panties anymore, and the whole diaper thing seemed like an old nightmare. One night, however when we were cleaning house together, we got into a fight. I had asked him to hand me a roll of trash bags and instead of handing them to me, he through them at me with such force that it whacked me on my back and left a huge whelp. I started crying and yelling at him, and he ran into the kitchen and stomped on my toes. I got away from him and grabbed one of his belts that was laying on the floor and started swinging it around me in a defensive maneuver. I didnt want him to get close to me. Of course, he still came at me, and when I hit him with the belt he reached to the floor and grabbed a boot of mine. He hit me on the head with it. All of a sudden my head felt wet. I ran into the bathroom, screaming and he followed me in there apologizing. He claimed to have felt like I was his father with the belt, and he said he just freaked out. I probably needed stitches, but I was too embarrassed to go to the ER.

After that, I know I should have left him for good, but again, I felt like he was just lashing out because of his messed up past. I tried to see the good in him, tried to make things work, but it was hard. "M" started with the cross dressing again. I would come home (he was supposed to pick me up, but would invariably have passed out, leaving me to catch a ride with co-workers) and find him sleeping on the bed with remnants of mascara around his eyes. I would yell at him to wake up and he would rush to the bathroom to clean himself. I started finding other bizarre things, too. My tampons would go missing. I later found out he was using them on himself. I found receipts for underwear, and vibrators that I knew didnt belong to me. I found my computer toner had been run out when I hadnt printed anything. He had been going to cross dressing web sites and printing out pictures of the she-males on there. Then, I found my diary next to his porno magazines. I was going crazy. How is anyone supposed to live like that? Every time I would try to leave him he would tell me I was being unsupportive and judgmental. He would call me "vanilla" and tell me I was close-minded. I tried to tell him that his lifestyle choice was fine for him, but not for me and how dare he try to make it? He wanted me to become his mistress. He wanted me to lay down the law and boss him around. He wanted to give me his paychecks and make me in charge of everything. He wanted me to yell at him and call him names, humiliate him. The f*cked up thing is, I tried it. I started hitting him all the time now. In my head it was payback. He didnt clean up the kitchen like I had asked him to? I would beat him with clothes hangers. In my mind I knew how wrong it was, but I was so very angry. I hated him for making me something that I wasn;t. I hated him for hitting me. I hated him for hurting me. I hated him for making me feel sorry for him.

I would come home to weirder and weirder situations. He started shaving his legs and underarms. One night I came home and found him in a reverse eagle position using a vibrator on himself. I also came home to find him vacuuming the house in a French maid uniform. I remember being dull to that sort of thing, but still being in shock that he didn't have the decency to close the blinds. For everything that I was going through, I didn't want anyone else to know. I felt like they would judge me. Think I was a sick person for staying through all that crap. In my mind I made justifications. He had been abused when his sister hadn't so maybe he thought women were treated better and thats why he wanted to be one. How could I explain that to someone else?

Finally, I grew sick and tired of all the crap. I was sick of yelling all the time. I was sick of being pushed into the walls of our apartment. I was sick of being called a bitch. I was sick of making excuses to my family and the few friends I had left. I was sick of being sad. I was sick of trying to explain to him that we in fact, did NOT have a healthy relationship. I tried to get him into counseling. Nothing worked. One night I had a dream about a man that I had been in love with for a very long time. I saw myself happy. I didnt know how to get to that place, but I knew I had to try. I had given up on myself. I no longer believed in me and I was absolutely miserable. I had gained so much weight, stopped wearing makeup, and had begun dressing in baggy clothes. I now know that those are the symptoms of someone who is depressed and beat down.

I left "M" in April of 2004. Of course, he never understood why I left. I didn't leave him for someone else, even though he thought I did, and I'm now in a happy healthy relationship. He hates me now. He thinks I'm the one responsible for all of his pain. I know I'm not. I don't put up with bullshit anymore.
I stick up for me.

If you have ever been abused, know someone who has, or know someone who knows someone please tell them it is never to late to leave. I can't tell you how many times I felt alone, scared, and fearing for my safety. Forward them my blog. Trust me, if I can come through this and still retain my dignity, anyone can.

Thank you for reading this.

Mama told me there'd be days like this

Today sucks.

My anxiety levels are through the roof.  I feel worried, suspicious, and slightly desperate. I don't think that any one thing has triggered this; this is hitting me from multiple angles.

I'm trying to reassure myself that it's just the Wellbutrin. I know that it can initially create some anxiety before it starts working properly.

I tried to sweat out the agitation but that didn't work. Now I'm just sitting at the computer, eating pistachios, and hoping that I hear from Jeff soon.

I love drama... Just make sure it's a period piece.

So, this has been some* week. I can do without all the excitement.

When I was younger, I thrived on drama. In the workplace, with my friends, with my lovers... the juicier the better. When I first started dating Jeff, I was surprised by how smoothly things went. I figured that something must be wrong. What was he hiding? He must have several thousand skeletons hiding in his closet. I'm not proud of it, but I stirred the pot on occasion. Nothing big, but I started more than a couple of arguments. Just your basic "You don't really love me, do you?" kind of stuff. Fortunately for me, he really does love me.

Slowly, over time, I began to appreciate a life without chaos. I began to recognize the worth in a relationship without those crazy highs and deep, dark lows. I started to revel in the "vanilla" that made up our day to day life. Today, I am thoroughly spoiled. I mean, we still bicker every now and then.. what couple doesn't? For the most part though, we get along well, and I consider Jeff my best friend.

So imagine my disdain for all the bullshit that has occurred this past week. All the 'Disorder' that I've been able to weed out of my life (and it hasn't been easy. Some things/people just don't want to leave) has come to visit. In fact, it's walked right in my front door and found a comfortable spot on the couch. It looks like it's brought luggage. I need to nip this in the bud, show it the front door.  I have a plan to escort the dysfunction from my life- it may seem simple, but it's difficult to put into action.

First on my list has been starting an antidepressant. Wellbutrin, in fact. My Dr didn't even blink when I asked for it. Having a husband in Iraq and finding a lump on your breast would probably give anyone anxiety.

Next up is scheduling my appointments for the mammogram/ultrasound and the breast specialist. I really want to play "ostrich" right now, but I have a little boy that probably wants me around for a long time.

I'm trying to de-clutter my life. I have been going to the storage facility, grabbing a box or a bag, and bringing it "home" to go through. I really don't want to hang on to every little thing..... Actually, I have to find a way to organize all the cards that Jeff and I have given each other. I just can't throw those out. (Any ideas that don't involve scrapbooking? I suck at that.)  Also, many of my friends and family know that I've  given up my beloved collection of all things girly (all my lotions, body washes, perfumes and makeup) in order to reduce my chemical exposure. I missed out on an opportunity to sell most of it at my SIL's yardsale, and I have a box of stuff for a friend of mine... just waiting for her to give birth! Right now everything is just sitting in my youngest brother's old bedroom, driving me bonkers. I think I've actually heard it call out to me in the middle of the night. Nobody has to know, Anna. Just me and you. C'mon, baby. You know you still want me. Give me a little spritz. I need you. Ok... maybe not, but I'll feel much better when I get that crap out of the house.

Finally, I'm trying to simply breathe. I know that I can't merely will my life be perfect.  I admit, I have a problem with control and relinquishing any of it is a difficult task for me. I am trying to let go, trying to find my path, trying to reach Zen, trying to just Be. I know that my life is currently disharmonious, and it will continue to be until Jeff comes home, but I would like a bit of that peace back.

The most difficult task in life is taking a leap.You have to be courageous. You have to find the strength. You have to be willing to fall. Not every leap is over a canyon, some are just the cracks on the sidewalk.

It's those cracks that frighten me. I want to walk softly and quietly, and hope that if I fall down, there are people willing to help me back up.



-------------------------------------------------
*My upsets from this past week have included (but are not limited to):

• Alec and I were chased by an aggressive pit bull. I'm really aggravated because now I'm afraid to walk in that area. Does 'Killer' care nothing for my cardio workout?
• I had to argue and debate with a bitchy an unpleasant pharmacy manager in order to resolve a simple problem. I think some people like to spread their unhappiness.
• My Diaper Genie has broken and only Jeff knows how to fix it (sometimes it's the small things.)
• I turned 33. Yeah. I'm getting really old. Can I still say I'm in my early 30's? Can I get away with late 20's? Didn't think so.
• I miss my friend. Danielle would have turned 32 on the 16th. Time may heal all wounds, but the scar runs deep.
• I have been dealing with my lump. I'm trying to remain positive, but it's difficult when all I really want is my husband to hold and comfort me, and that's impossible.
• Jeff's safety. He tells me things that I can't really share with the general public, and some of it really scares me. Faith is a difficult concept for me to grasp, but I must trust that he will be fine. He has told me that he's not worried, and I shouldn't be either.  I'm going to have to put my confidence in him.

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

So, Jeff will be deploying on Sunday. I knew this might be coming, but you're never emotionally prepared for it. I know he's going to be fine, but still can't help worrying. I mean, he's going to Iraq... not exactly a "safe" zone, although I guess Afghanistan would be worse. He'll be gone for four long months. He'll miss Christmas, but at least Alec's too young to remember.  We'll just celebrate when he gets back.

I know this will be hard on him.  He is going to miss Alec SO much, and Alec's going to miss his daddy too.  I'm going to miss him. He's such a great father.  He loves Alec more than I could have thought possible. He's protective, not just of his safety, but of his emotional needs, too.

He takes care of things.  I know that sounds simple, but it means so much.  He takes out the trash without being asked.  He changes the Diaper Genie so that I don't have to think about it.  He does the dishes at night while I put Alec to sleep. He kisses us goodbye in the morning when he thinks we're asleep. When he goes to the grocery store he always gets me a little treat. I know that sounds silly, but do you know how important it is to have a man think about your chocolate needs?

It's much more than what he *does* that makes this so hard. He is my emotional safe place. It's hard to really put into words, but Jeff grounds me.  He always calmly listens to my newest passions or woes, and laughs (but not in a mean way) at my latest antics.  He always asks me how my day was and he really cares.  He doesn't ever patronize me. We laugh together, even over the silliest things. When we argue (full disclosure: He doesn't really argue with me.  I just bitch a lot and he listens.) we still find a way to laugh.  There is a song by Sarah McLachlan called Push that kind of sums it up.

Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land
[CHORUS:]
You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe

I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You wont stoop down to battle but you never turn to go
[CHORUS]

Your love is just the antidote when nothing else will cure me
There are times I cant decide when I cant tell up from down
You make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day
[CHORUS]


Fuck. It's going to be so hard while he's gone... Is it January yet?