Hokey Pokey

I'm LOSING MY MIND.

Here I am trying so hard to hide the crazy but it's just not working. I'm crawling out of my skin. I'm exhausted and crawling out of my skin.

And why? What's it for?

And what crappy timing... today the wind is changing. The warm gypsy wind is coming. It's starting to call for me and i'm crawling out of my skin.

I'm totally out of my own control. This is a perfect time to make art.

Trying again

I'm not sure if i'm really here or not today. Just here to think and wonder and maybe start something back up. I'm not good at blogging. I never really want anyone to read my words and be mean about them. It's why I hardly belong out here in the bloggosphere.

Anyway. I'm trying again. At a lot of things. The reason I'm here is the biggest. That is... I'm trying to have another baby. I say "I" because B's job is already done. Long ago done. Now it's on me. All on me.

Today I've been angry. Really angry.
I take more than a handful of drugs - some in the form of painful shots - just to prepare my body for the HOPE of getting pregnant. Seriously. There's a chance this whole thing won't even work. I take a medicine first thing in the morning - no, before first thing in the morning - that will screw everything up if i don't wait the proscribed time before consuming something else. That's right. I have to take a pill that helps, but will mess it all up. Then I take another pill, but only with a full breakfast and if I don't have a full breakfast, I get really sick. Then I take other medicines through the day, ending my day with a lovely little shot (I'm a pink pincushion again) that hurts so bad, I have to lie down immediately afterwards. The first few times I did it, I cried and cried. Last night I only had to put my feet up because it was so awful i was dizzy and lightheaded.

That shot? That's the Lupron. It's the one that last time I did this, it made me so crazy I chopped down trees with a hacksaw because it obscured my vision and I thought it would mess up my mailbox. Today, it's making me crazy hot. Like HOT. Like peel off my skin and sit around in my bones HOT.

Anyway, I'm angry. I'm angry that this is who I am. I'm angry that my body doesn't work properly. I have a very different view this time. I'm angry at the people who can do this so easily and don't care how easily it came (and then maybe went). I'm angry that this is a fixture in my bathroom for the foreseeable future.

Mostly I'm just really fucking hot.

Migraines

Just a little thought today.

I have a migraine. It looks something like this:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2008/02/28/opinion/20080222_MIGRAINE_SLIDESHOW_index.html


Pick a picture, any picture. You'll have a small visual of what my day has been like. It kinda blows, but it's been my lot in life since I was THIRTEEN years old! That's a lot of life to suffer with migraines! But anyway... When I have a migraine, I get weird. Like WEIRD. Crazy creative, totally incapable of processing patterns and dealing with noise/light/stimuli/smells, totally quirky. And I realized something: in high school, my worst migraines would send me home. Some kept me in a dark, quiet room for days on end. What I realized is that people couldn't deal with me. They couldn't cope. No one understood why my right eye looked like it was closing or why I was hiding from the chemicals in the darkroom, but craving the dark room that the darkroom provided. Because I was quirky and silly and weird, it was one MORE reason to stay away. One MORE reason to avoid me...

I'm okay with it now. People do love me now and people do care and people do try to make it better. But migraines suck. They sucked when I was in high school and they sucked in college and they suck as a mommy. Just differently. Like I always say: not a different ball game, just a different inning.

On Dreams

There are few things in the world like early Fall - except the REST of Fall.
Today, this cloudy morning in September, I have so many thoughts running through me. I have been thinking about Dreams lately. What they mean, how they change me through the day, how they change my mornings...

My mom told me about a dream she had:
I was at a friend of your sister's funeral. It was so sad. I held onto this friend's mother and helped walk her down the aisle in the church. 

I told her that that wasn't a sad dream at all! It was a dream that reflects her concern for this friend and for her mother! My sister's friend has had some health issues lately and the dream reflects that my mom worries for my sister's friend and wants to support and help the friend's mother in any way she can. Probably not in a physical hold-her-up kind of way, but in a more emotional way. My mom heard me say this and was immediately relieved. I'm not sure that I believe in any kind of abilities of precognition (though some of my dreams might reflect otherwise). This dream of my mom's was more about her Brain trying to make sense of a deep underlying concern that she hasn't focused on in her waking moments enough.

I dream a lot. I remember my dreams. They are usually convoluted and elaborate. I remember most of my dreams because they mean so much to me. In the morning, I will usually find one on which to dwell, to hone in on what my subconscious is working on. I do believe that dreams are our subconscious' ways of processing information and the various stimuli that we encounter day to day, month to month.

Last night I dreamed about a person I haven't talked to or heard from in years. I dreamed that this person wanted me to play saxophone in a quintet - odd, since I don't play saxophone & have only held one once. I really didn't want to, and suggested that perhaps I should just bow out since not only can I not play sax, I've only had a handful of clarinet lessons (maybe a year, though in my dream I said 3). This dream has stayed with me today. I'm beginning to understand it, though it's going to take a lot of muddling through. I think I know what my subconscious is processing.

Dreams are so fascinating. The studies done on dreaming are hardly extensively written about, but they should be. Dreams really are the megaphones through which our brains scream answers at us. More on this later. I want to go think a little more about this dream, now that I know what I'm working with.

Getting Rid of Toxins

I have control over my thoughts and feelings...
                    right?

If another person can make me sad, or feel like less than I am, it's only because I've given that person Power over me...
                  right?

When I'm lost & low & uninspired, I should reach deep into myself...
                 right?

Guess what, my deep dark insides are sad and old feeling today.

I have a lot of sad swirling around today. I'm alright... I'm not in any kind of danger or physical pain (other than from a rough run last night), but I have some thoughts I need to get rid of. The best part is that as soon as my little Miracles wake up, I'll change my mood and I'll remember that I'm not a glamorous Movie Star or a Rock Star or a fabulous Athlete. I'm just Me. Little Ol' Me, with my Little Life and my Little Quiet Wishes...

Gypsy

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair” 
-Kahlil Gibran The Prophet



I have gypsy blood. Round about now in the year, I feel the wind blowing and my legs itch to move, to run, to go... I've become a runner. I run. I lace up my sneakers, turn on some good music and go. Sometimes I wonder if this run will be the one during which my knees will give up. Sometimes I know that it will be The Best Run Ever. Ultimately, it always is. The best run ever, I mean. The Good Part is that I always come home. Always. And there's always a loving pair of arms waiting to hold me and congratulate me and be glad that I've come home.

That doesn't have anything to do with Kahlil Gibran's words, but that's coming. I'm thinking about how to write about wanting to be on a tall hill with the wind playing in my hair and running in bare feet. The Gypsy loves that thought. I love that thought. 

What Ifs

What if I wasn't meant for this?
What if I can't do it?
What if I'm going down the wrong path?
What if I don't get to do what's Good-For-Me?
What if my dreams don't come true?
What if the dreams of my heart aren't the dreams of my head?
What if I can't be ME?


What if going down a different path is okay?
What if the path I thought I wanted isn't the path that I'm on?
What if that's okay too?

Struggling today.

Lost

I have a few friends on Facebook lately who've had the supreme sadness of burying a parent, a sibling or worse (the ultimate horror) a child. I cannot and do not want to try to imagine the sadness that these people struggle against. The seemingly insurmountable daily sadness... I shudder to think about it and don't believe I can finish the sentence about it.

But my writing today isn't about that. My reference in naming this post "Lost" wasn't to the family members who've gone before us into the Great Somewhere, but in the Lost Art of Wordsmith. There is a certain amount of Grace that is required of the condolence writer. Sadly, the advent and perpetuation of cyber communication have left a generation of incapable letter writers.

When I was growing up, we learned all kinds of "social graces". We learned how to eat without making our companions sick, how to carry a conversation, and how to write letters, among other things. To be fair, some of those things I learned reading a book written by a friend of my mom's. Learning those graces wasn't supposed to get us into Harvard or MIT, but they would (in theory) help us make and keep friends, help us be Creatures of Beauty and Grace, and, I think, mostly to teach us to think about others with Thought instead of as Mere Others. I think that makes sense.

My point is this: in a world where we can announce our Loved One's passing on Facebook, and our "friends" can post their condolences as comments on a thread, there is a surprising and sad lack of grace. The comment threads that I see typically say something to the effect of "I'm so sorry for your loss". But I have to tell you that if my brother, uncle, mother, child (God Forbid) had just died, the last thing I would want is 200 comments on my Facebook page saying "sorry for your loss" and the problem is, the reason that people post that is because they don't know what else to say. We live in an world that has allowed it to be okay not to learn how to tell someone you're deeply saddened by the news of someone's passing. We live in a world, it seems to me, in which those social graces I learned growing up are odd and even sometimes mocked!

My heart is sad for my friends. I wrote notes of condolence, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. I considered my friends; I thought about their loved ones; I sat down with pen and paper and I wrote from my heart, using the strategies that I'd learned so long ago. Perhaps, as I go through life and teach my children the graces that are ingrained in me, they will not be lost and gone forever.

Otherwise, rest in peace, Social Graces.

My Brain is En Fuego

My "Second Parents" have been in town. They are Lottery Parents. That means that when I became bestest bestest friends with their daughter when I was five-turning-six, I won the lottery. My best friend is their only daughter. I know a good thing when I see it, being the 4th in a string of 5, so I attached to her like glue. Her parents are two of the most fabulous people I've ever had the joy of meeting and loving. They are wonderful people - Mom (yep, I still call her "Mom") and Dad (yep, I still call him "Dad") adopted me into their lives and their family early on. I adore them. They gave me much of the attention that my natural family just couldn't give me. I'm not bitter about the fact that I had to outsource my Attention Grabbing. I am grateful that I have been blessed in life with the opportunity to have a Second Family that could afford me the gift of attention that I craved my whole life.

Oooo! Realization! That Need that I talked about before? The need to be seen? I realize that it's a need because I KNOW that I have been missing it my ENTIRE life because I was so low on the totem pole in my natural family! oooooo! Wow!

Mom & Dad brought the plans for our house renovation. We're totally changing our home - making it bigger. We need more space. MORE SPACE! ESPACHé!!! thirteen pages of Espaché! We have spent two whole days going over and over and over the plans. I'm so happy when the creations that they've made for us! But my brain is falling out of my head and I have a lot to process...

They have given us such a great gift! We're so grateful!

Autumn Is In the Air

It's Coming. I can feel it. September is ending soon and once it does...

The air is getting cooler. The days are getting shorter. I love Autumn. I love just about everything about it - except that it always ends too soon. Autumn makes me happy. Do you want to see a list? 

 I love the minor key that Autumn's music seems to be in.

I love that my kitchen gets warm with pie baking and cozy foods like Turkey, mushroom & wild rice stew and apples.

I love apple season.

I love that my dear friend & her husband come up and we go to the Pumpkin patch with the twins and then Apple Picking.

I love the cooler weather.

I love raking up the leaves (I really do!).

I love watching the leaves change color. My neighbors have this tree that glows throughout November before it finally gives up its leaves to the constant battery of the wind and finally shivers them off, blanketing the ground in bright orange, yellow and red. Fabulous!

I love autumn clothes - I love long sleeves and jeans and SOCKS.

I love to nestle in with my sweet husband in the evenings and play cards or Scrabble and drink tea.

I love that October means Halloween and I love Halloween.

I love November 1st. I think it's the best day of the whole year that isn't a holiday or my birthday.

I love that November is the best month of the whole year. It's my favorite. 

I love that the whole season comes to a head on Thanksgiving, which is my favorite holiday. 

I love our Autumnal trip to see my big brother and his wife (and now son!) in North Carolina.

I love grey days.

I love the breeze. 

I love that it's cooler with warm breezes - not like Spring that's warming up with cold breezes. 

I love the golden glow in the evenings. 

I love that Autumn seems to loom. It seems like starting in July I know it's coming. The shadows get longer, the days get shorter and you can FEEL it in the air. I love that.

I love that I can wear my snuggly pants in the evening and not get sweaty.

I love the cookies.

I love the colors.

I love the idea of Autumn. 

It's really nice.

On Being Seen

There are a few things about which I am completely convinced. One of those is that we have many physical needs and a few psychological needs. One of those Needs is to be Seen. To be Noticed. To be IMPORTANT to someone, even for Just A Minute.

People are Egocentric. It's just a truth. Even if you declare that you live for someone else - to satisfy someone else's needs and whims - you really ultimately (it seems to me) are living to be Important to that person. It fulfills you to see that person filled and to be acknowledged for filling that person.

While we live, we write, we talk, we share, we post, we color, we sing, we express, we hope, we BE and we hope that someone will NOTICE that. How many times have you posted something on Facebook or on your own blog in the hopes that someone will notice and respond to that posting? How many times have you gotten a response and thrilled at the idea that someone read it, someone liked it, someone noticed? We want to be seen. We want to be heard. We want to be acknowledged. It makes us want to keep doing it! We feel Real.

What happens when no one notices our posts? What happens when no one sends us a one-line email reminding us that We are Important to Them? We worry. We sit in shadows. We fear invisibility. We shout, "SEE ME!"

And then Someone comes along and does. And it's good. It's very very good.

Dendrites & Butterflies

Cogito Ergo Sum.

Not merely Sum, but Cogito while Sum.

I am Jesuit educated. It's a fact about which I am tremendously proud. My father is also Jesuit educated and being a Daddy's Girl, I suppose that's part of why I maintain a tight grip on my pride in that education. I believe that being Jesuit educated set me up for a life of thinking inside, outside and all around the proverbial box. Being a graduate of a Jesuit school, I had to take many classes in world religions (not just Catholicism) and philosophy (including logic and ethics). In spite of some of my grades in these classes, I enjoyed them tremendously. I learned to Think. I learned that Being Without Thinking is not Being at all, but instead is merely existing.

A friend of mine (The Music Man) said that I should write more. He's right. The Music Man reminded me that I am more than the sum of my parts. Without Thinking, and expressing those thoughts here, I merely exist. Sum, but not Cogito. Because I Think, I Exist.

Therefore, welcome to Dendrites & Butterflies. This is where I think.

Why Dendrites & Butterflies? The easy answer is that I think it's funny. Dendrites are also the branched extensions of nerve cells. They're the synapses along which impulses are transmitted to the cell body. Butterflies are some of the most remarkable creatures on earth. They are beautiful, hardy, delicate, huge, tiny, dangerous and gentle. I don't pretend to think of myself as a butterfly, that's too simplistic. But Thought is like a butterfly. Also, it's my blog, so I get to pick the title. So there.

That's all.