Thursday, October 25, 2012

Cotton Candy Distractions and Noodles of Determination

I'm just going to come right out and say it, and if you know me, then this will come as no great surprise:

I can't stand whiners.

There are simply too many people out there with LEGITIMATE concerns, and whiners are not only a drain on the system, and resources, but on everyone's patience as well.

No one ever said that this life was going to be easy.  (Good Lord, I'm resulting to parenting cliches. . .  A thousand apologies.  I really MUST try harder.)

But seriously:  Watch the news.  At ANY point during ANY day.  Then turn it off REALLY quickly, before all that horror seeps into your pores.  Then immediately do something to counteract having seen The News. . . like. . . like eating cotton candy in the sunshine.  Yes, that should do it.  Twenty minutes of cotton-candy-sunlight and you'll probably suffer almost NO lasting effects from having seen The News.

But the POINT is this:  It's bad EVERYWHERE.  Things are going to hell all over the globe!  So take heart!  It isn't just YOU that life might be hard on. . . it's EVERYONE.

HooRAY!!!  Don't you feel comforted?


I'm really NOT trying to be a Debbie Downer (get me talking about The News, and this is what you get!!), I'm just trying to say that we were never promised a primrose fairy tale, suffering exists, and when I see people whine and complain about REALLY inconsequential things, well. . . it SERIOUSLY just pisses me right off.

And just so you know, I more or less practice what I preach on this one.  We don't have all the amenities in the world, or the fanciest, most envy-inspiring new this or that. . . but we DO have first class meals (thanks to my husband), a roof over our heads, health insurance over our bodies, and we don't have to worry that the power is going to be cut off tomorrow.  Aside from that. . . we don't ask for much.  We don't spend money frivolously, and our entertainment is basically our time together.  Oh, and we have enough books, and joy, sarcasm, tickle fights, and unconditional love, to keep us going as a family for roughly the next thousand years.  =)

The way I was raised, and though Mama and Daddy lived in different households, THIS was something they 100% agreed upon:  To complain about what you DON'T have is to completely negate what you DO have.  And if you want to be happy?  Then go BE happy.  (You're in charge of that one.) 

. . .Aside, of course, from the times when Daddy would give me and Heath $5, and let us walk down to the gas station that was just 2 or 3 houses down from his house.  (We were, of course, instructed VERY strongly to "stay off the road!")  We were going on childhood snack-runs.  It was how I first learned about consumer math. . . and sales tax.  (Which seemed more than a LITTLE unfair that someone I couldn't even see got that money, when I was going to use it to purchase the Blow Pop right in FRONT of me.)  But snack-runs. . . those were times when Daddy was COMPLETELY in control of our happiness.  And could kill it as easily as:  "No, you can't go right now."  But, I guess when your happiness is found at the bottom of a box of Lemonheads, it can be reborn just as easily as it can be killed.  Childhood happiness is like a phoenix, that way.  Ultimately undestroyable and completely amazing.

But Good LORD, how I digress!!  (Fingers never know when to shut up.  It's a curse, really.  So if you've never met me in real life, it would probably amaze you to find that this gift for gab doesn't extend to my tongue.  I have to know you VERY well before I can do anything more that prattle on nervously in your presence.)

. . . where was I???


And how I hate them.

And how I'm really going to need you not to judge me, because I am about to do some MAJOR whining. . .

So let's just get the Great Whiny Ugliness out in front of us:
I have had a headache.

Every day.

For about two months.

(I know.  As atrocities go, this one is rather minor.  But having meager whine-issues is just my cross to bear.  And we would appreciate your understanding during this difficult time.)

Seriously, I KNOW this doesn't sound like a big deal.  Probably doesn't sound like anything more than a gnat flying in the face of your life.

But I can promise you---It sucks.

That's a promise from me to you.

About the suckage.

You can take it to the bank.

(Fine, I'll STOP.)

I think if I could just have a complete spinal transplant, then the issue would just right itself.  Because I don't WAKE UP every day with a headache.  No, at some magical point during my slumber each night, my fingertips begin to glimmer. my spine begins to glow with fairy light, and I am restored!  Healed!!

. . .until about 9 or 10 a.m. the next morning, when it all starts over again.  When I can feel it---starting in my neck and shoulders, travelling up the back of my head, and settling. . . like an awful little dragon that no amount of Tylenol can truly kill.

(Artist's rendering of my headache.  She looks all innocent, right?  Deceitful bitch.)

Sometimes they're merely "headaches."  They hurt, and it sucks, but it's really not that big of a deal.  And sometimes. . . WHINE ALERT!! . . . they are honestly excruciating. 

And nothing helps them.


So for the last two days, I've just really felt like I was losing it.  I'm doing everything I know to do:  I'm exercising every day, I'm trying to eat healthy.  I'm keeping myself busy all day.  I'm even trying to quit smoking.

And still.  Every morning.  By 11 a.m., at the latest, I am in anywhere from Mild to Blinding pain.

And I don't even want the TV on in the background.  And every time the baby screeches, it's like daggers being driven into my temple.  (And he's not doing anything wrong---he's just being a baby!)

So I don't know why, but yesterday everything came to a head, figuratively speaking, in my brain.

Michael was instructing me, step by step, on how to create his signature meal:  Super #1 Happy Fun-Time Noodles.  With pork tenderloin.

It is my FAVORITE!!!  (This meal is probably the ONLY meal that EVER renders me weak enough to go back for seconds.)

Anyway.  I was cooking.  Michael was instructing.  Baby was playing.

The whole family was in the kitchen, and it was, for all intents and purposes, a sweet family moment of togetherness.

Or it WOULD'VE been. . .

Except I kept having to walk out on the back step to cry.

NOT because I was sad, but simply because I was in a LOT of pain.  A good bit of it.  (Moderate amounts of pain don't affect me this way---just ask the nurses that were there when my baby was delivered.)  And honestly I was just incredibly fucking frustrated.  Because my family is AMAZING.  My life is great, and I LOVE it!  And I am HAPPY!!

Except for every single day, when I am in blinding pain.

(Taking a break from cooking to just sit down, and Took came for snuggles.  =)  I'm trying to smile. . . but it's coming out as more of a wince.)

So it hit me like a ton of bricks last night, as incredibly basic and elementary concepts often do:  I should NOT be having headaches every day.

That is NOT normal.

I have been treating this as though it were an anxiety issue. .  a psychological problem.

. . .But what if it's not?

Regardless, it has been TOO LONG.  I have been TOO QUIET, just struggling with it on my own, somehow feeling like this was some sort of karmic debt-payment plan, and that I must just deserve it.

Now I realize how foolish this was.

I am happy.  I am (relatively) young.  I haven't lost my joy---nope.  It's still there.  Right next to that really big freckle.  Hmm. . . that IS a big freckle.  Maybe I should have that checked out too. . .

So why would I sit idly by, afraid to complain, or be thought of as "whiny", while this issue slowly steals my happiness from me?  Steals one family dinner after another?  Steals time cuddling with Michael on the couch?  Steals days in the backyard with the baby and his Cozy Coupe?

Why would I let that happen??


And I'm done with being patient.

We're fixing this.

So I don't know what's going to come of this decision.  I just know that I'm going to my doctor, and I'm going to scream long enough and loud enough until I KNOW I am heard.

And perhaps the end result will be something as simple as a broad-chested man named Sven coming to live in the room above the garage and give me massages every 4 - 6 hours.

Sometimes life is JUST that nice.  =)

But come what may (*insert best Action Hero Voice*):


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