Busy

Busy Busy.

Busy Busy Busy.

So much to tell, I do hope I remember it all.

See you shortly.

Urs.

Lifesaver

She just may have saved my life.

I'm terrified of walk-in freezers. I know, I know, crazy. But really, I have a phobia about them. I don't like walking in them. For two reasons:

1. Shoes and food should not be together. Under no circumstances should shoes (hello... inside said shoes are FEET, people. And after any amount of time in shoes, FEET aren't nice) be anywhere around FOOD.
2. I think I'm a closet claustrophobic. No pun intended. I really think I'm claustrophobic. But only when it comes to walk-in freezers.

When I'm too cheap to pay a buck for a pop in the lunchroom, I dash downstairs to the catering departments freezers and scope around for pop. And so I have to go to the walk-in. It's terrifying to me. Yes, #'s 1 and 2 are dreadful enough, but WHAT IF THE FREEZER CLOSES BEHIND ME AND I DIE IN THERE?

Seriously, I think she saved my life.

Urs.

It was my period.

Sadness with that.

But a bit of relief too.

And sadness again because of that.

I have to get through my grief, I have to clear those blocks, before I can focus on a pregnancy again. So I'm not terrified every step of the way.

Again.
***********
The Husband and I fought chatted the other night. I told him I missed him. That I want to actually spend time with him. Do things together. Stop living seperate lives. To grow together, not seperately.

Out of the blue, he gets up at 10am thismorning all ready to spend the day with me, His Wife.

But I'm not ready! I want to clean the house! Drink tea! Relax! Catch up on phone calls! And now he's all showered and ready to bond.

And I'm not ready. How awful is that.

He changed the rules and didn't tell me.

Shit.

So I put the rubber gloves away. Have a shower. Turn off the computer. And off we go.

To bond.

Urs.

Wait just a second.

What if it's not my period?

What if it's implantation bleeding?

It didn't happen on my second pregnancy, but it did on my first.

Hope!

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

But does hope get you out of hopelessness?

No.

Hope, I dare say, is just a little town in Canada.

But Hope is getting me through the evening right now. Hope is what I have at the moment.

Hope.

Urs.

Despair

It's not hard to fall into it.

But bloody hell if it isn't hard to crawl out of.

Despair is a battle. You don't always know you're in it, let alone battling to get out of it, but that's exactly what's going on.

Forgetting who I am. Forgetting that I'm a warrior. Forgetting that I've battled much stronger people, issues, problems, than this. That was just a little pebble the universe showed me to point me in the right direction. To remind me that it's a battle. It can be difficult.

But it's only despair. It's just an act in a play against this interesting stage that is life.

I can get out of it. I can focus. I can calm myself down. I can Be. I can overcome. I can remember who I am. That? Will get me out of it.

And so I feel free, I feel better, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know, I KNOW, that this too shall pass.

And then I get my period.

And despair sticks to me again. I feel the spiral. I feel the sadness. I feel the hopelessness.

And so I hold to the fact that it's despair. It's just despair. Yet it's such a huge battle. But really, it's just despair.

So now that I recognize that, I know what I'm dealing with. I know how to get out of it.

You know when you enter a dark room, there's no light, you don't know what's in there - what lies ahead, especially if you've never been there before.

What do you do?

You turn on a light.

Illuminate it so you can see it.

And then? It's not dark anymore.

Where there's light, there can be no dark.

So, sadness with the period, yes.

But at least I'm getting one.

Perhaps next month. Perhaps next month I'll have the opportunity to pee on a stick.

And see two pink stripes.

Urs.

Be careful what you wish for.

I was waiting to see it. I lined up for this! I bought popcorn! I've been waiting for TWO YEARS.

And so she showed me.

I was waiting, I was practically BEGGING to see it. And so she showed it to me. And so I saw it.

And promptly ran away with tale between legs.

Hilarious!

This gives me more ammunition to stalk myself. To buck the fuck up. To get back on track.

Good times.

Urs.

Where Am I?

Seriously.

Where am I?

Where's the me that used to be? The fantastic lass. The life of the party. The gorgeous woman. The kind lady. The courteous and consciencious person. The No Fear gal. The Bring It On! The calm and centered. The one who had the ability to focus, to assess, to hold.

The impeccable warrior.

Where did she go?

Because now, she seems like a messy puddle on the floor. Of worry. Of grief. Of anger and angst. Of confrontation. Afraid of confrontation. Afraid to stand up for herself; instead, standing to the side, watching herself be bullied and bitten and kicked and stepped on. Of taking shit, instead of standing up for those who are given shit. Such as I'm being given shit lately.

What the fuck happened?

Yes, the Hateful Bitch reared her ugly head.

After two years of wondering when her real colours would show, they showed.

And now I'm afraid to rock the boat, when that's what I LIVED for! I loved pushing the envelope. Not in a harmful way, but a gentle way (ie: Castenada). In the way that would bring out the best in people. Would make them see that they're bigger and more beautiful and bolder than they ever thought possible.

Now?

I'm too fucked up to give a care.

I just think that a switch went off. A light was dimmed.

My light was dimmed.

And I don't know when it happened.

Was it when I got married? Was it when I lost the first baby? Or was it the second? Or was it just recently? Did I give up? What the fuck is going on?

I miss me. I miss the old me. I miss the me that would still hold my head high, hold on to my impeccability, even when people are trying to drag me back into their shit. The shit. I feel like I finally got out of the vat of shit and could see clearly and could continue with clarity.

Now?

Not so much.

But there's always controlled folly.

Urs.

The Rapist

I went to a new doctor today.

Didn't know she was a therapist.

ther-a-pist.

the-rapist.

I never thought I'd be seeing someone with the word "rape" in their title. It's rather scarey, no?

So, back to this appointment.

After my last loss, my OBGYN referred me to another doctor for a visit.

I thought she/he would be wanting to see me for physical reasons. To chat about what happened, gather info, and talk to me about why it might have happened and perhaps to fill me in on what may happen next.

That's just what I assumed.

I never thought in a million years I would hear at the end of my appointment, "well, you don't need medication, but I'd like you to come back next week to chat further".

Fuck.

When I got in there, she met me in the lobby and then walked me to her office. Upon entering, I did not see the bed thing with stirrups. I saw a couch, two nice chairs, her desk, clocks everywhere, and a lovely arrangement of lillies.

That's when I knew this wasn't a physical.

But hey, I'll take all the healing I can get. So I sat down in one of the nice chairs.

And the tears started.

I have, really, nobody to talk to about the loss. My best friend is pregnant too. We ended up pregnant at the same time. There's NO WAY I'm talking to her about losing the baby. Come on.

My mother? 4000 miles away. And when I DID try to talk to her, just after it happened, she harped on me to go back to work right away.

The Husband?

Doesn't talk about it.

So I have all these emotions, apparently, bottled up inside and so she asked me one simple question (who my family doctor is) and I started bawling.

Quite funny actually, but uncomfortable all the same.

It didn't help. I left more shattered than I've felt in a long time. I was gloomy for the rest of the day. Went to a dentist appointment afterwards and was still teary-eyed.

Went for a hair appointment after that and ended up crying while being rinsed.

Went to the fucking inlaws' for supper and wanted to scream bloody murder at them...but they don't understand english so I wouldn't quite get the effect I was after. (I just realized, as I was searching my blog to link to the "fucking inlaws" that I didn't tell you what happened when we announced the pregnancy to them. That, my friends, is worth the "fucking" before the "inlaws". Perhaps another day...)

So here I am.

Having a glass of rum and not knowing what to do with myself.

Urs.

Mind. Body.

I find it extremely interesting that my back only flares up when I’m around stress.

I got in a major accident and have a soft tissue injury (so they tell me) and it hurt for about two weeks and then it stopped.

Except when I’m around people I don’t like (ie: uncomfortable), and when I walk into my office building (ie: hateful bitch).

Interesting, no? The link between feelings and emotions, and physical pain. Pain manifested in the body. In the small of my back, and my lower back. What’s that area linked to, anyone know? (for example, the lungs are linked with grief, the thyroid is linked with psychic abilities, etc etc).

What’s the universe trying to tell me?

Get a new job, Ursula, get a new job!

But I plan on having a baby next year. How would that look, starting a new job only to announce your pregnancy a few weeks later (someone did it at my workplace - it left a bad taste).

Anyway, this is just one more thing for me to figure out.

Starting with the mind/body connection.

Urs.

Sigh.

A sigh of relief.

It's done. It's over. It's finished.

I made it through Thanksgiving dinner with the people I don't like.

Wasn't too bad once I got drunk.

Urs.

Gobble Gobble

We're having Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's thisevening.

And I don't like any of them.

Especially the host.

There, I said it. Outloud. I don't like the host. I don't like the host. I don't like the host. And I'm tired of feigning interest in his life. I'm tired of listening to him drone on and on and ON about his work life. About how busy he is. How important he is. Jesus christ, shut the fuck up already.

But off we go. And pretend to enjoy his little stories. Pretend that he's the funniest person on earth. Pretend that he's doing us all a favour by hosting Thanskgiving. Pretend that we're grateful to him for all the work he's put into it. Pretend he's the most generous man we've ever met, for putting dinner on.

Fuck off already.

So I plan on drinking my face off.

To make him interesting.

Urs.

Hiding in my skin

There’s a job opening at a local association that has my name ALL OVER IT. It’s in the film industry, a non-profit organization, full time management position, organizing film-related events and liaising with all aspects of the industry, reporting to a board of directors, network network network. Yada yada yada.

I know the lady that used to do it. I know the hurdles she faced. I know the progress she made.

I know the players.

I know the job.

Yet I’m hesitant to approach them. I can do the job blindfolded, that’s a non-issue. It’s just that it’s a highly visible position. I mean I’d be OUT there. Every move I made, every decision I came to, my every word to the media… it's so visible.

Every mistake I made, would be out there for all to judge.

It’s terrifying.

So here I sit. Reading over the job posting. Knowing that I can totally do it. Yet terrified to take that step.

Why would I rather stay at my current job, which is getting stickier and stickier every day?

Great pay. Great vacation. Great flexibility (or USED to). Fun place, overall. Great people, generally.

But it’s time to move on. And not just because of Hateful Bitch, but because I’ve done what I came to do. I’ve reached the place I wanted to reach here. I’ve reached the goals I had in mind for myself when I took this position.

I’ve maxed out my salary.

And yet it’s bad timing. I’m trying to have a baby. I’ll hopefully be pregnant very very soon, and so will be taking mat leave by next July or so. It would be in bad taste to take a new job and not even be in it for a year before taking leave for a year.

So here I sit.

Reading over the job posting.

Urs.

Helpful to Hurtful

I've been through hell this year.

Actually, been to hell and BACK. (Not sure if I'm really back yet honestly, but I digress.)

My boss?

"If there's anything I can do, just let me know."
"Take your time with the healing."
"Take all the time you need to get better. Your health should be the most important thing on your mind right now."
"Getting better is your focus. Don't worry about things here, we all have your back."
"I'm here, if you ever need help, or just an ear."

This was last January and again this past July. (I haven't really spoken much to her since my accident last month because she was out of town.)

Fast forward to yesterday afternoon at 4pm. She totally reams me out for going to a massage appointment during working hours (even though she had just been to the dentist THAT MORNING during working hours) (!!).

"For five years I have not taken any personal appointments during office hours. I have ALWAYS scheduled them around my work day. Today was another story. I am in so much back pain from my accident that I can hardly think. I barely made it in thismorning. I took the appointment that was available to avoid further pain, bitch" (ok, so I didn't say Bitch).

"Well from now on make your appointments before or after work, on your own time."

Listen lady, I'm not twelve fucking years old and trying to get out of going to school. I'm not 19 years old and partying in bars and lying to get out of work becuase I'm hungover from the night before. I'm not milking any system here. I'm looking after myself.

Hateful bitch.

Urs.

Ernie and Bert

They had each other.

They always had each other. No matter what happened, they would be there for each other.

I don't have that, with anyone. I have two really close friends, but they're at a time in their lives where they are focussed on themselves. Which is great, for them. Their lives are moving forward in fantastic ways.

I need a friend whom I can call up and say, "Hey, why don't we get together for brunch on Saturday." Or, "Hey, what are you doing Tuesday night? Wanna catch a flick?".

And in return they'll say, Sure! Or, "I'm busy on Tuesday, how about Thursday?". Instead of requiring a month's notice to get together.

Basically, I need more friends.

So I'm on the hunt. For more friends.

I'm going to sign up at a local community centre for yoga classes. Perhaps I'll make friends there.

I used to have tonnes of friends! Always something to do. People to see. Dinners to have.

I miss the old me.

Urs.