Category: Health

Take a deep breath. Again. Good.

anxiety, Depression, Exercise, fencing, Friendship, Health, Home, Mental Health, SCA, Sewing, Stress, swordfighting, Thoughts, Time, Work

That’s what the surgeon at work says when he listens to a patient’s lungs. I always find myself unconsciously deep breathing with the patient as the doctor says this, and even though it’s relaxing in a way, it’s not enough for the day I had yesterday.

It was busy. I mean, I did some standing around, but it was mostly when I was standing still during the lasers. Mostly I was hurrying back and forth from room to room to room, and though I managed to get a break I never felt rested or relieved. It didn’t help that the heater was on at 73 all day long, and when I first got to the office it was so hot in the exam rooms that I immediately started sweating. From there, it got worse. Between the movement, the heat being on, and the stress of one problem after another, I ended up damn near drenched by the end of the long day. Even though the temperature was in the 40s when I left, I cranked the A/C to half blast and left a window open as I drove home. It took about fifteen minutes to cool off.

But I’m trying. I’m trying to calm down, trying to take those two deep breaths when I need to. I’m trying not to stress about the things I can’t change, and I’m trying to be more assertive in the things I can. Yeah, I’m still going out of town this weekend. I didn’t really try to fight with my husband on that. But I did tell him that I need to slow down and that I’m feeling stressed. I can’t do anything much about the work stress, but I can at least try to minimize the home stress. I will cut down on the SCA activities. Sadly, that sometimes means cutting down on time spent with friends who also participate in SCA activities.

Once my laundry is done–any minute now, really–I’m going to finish getting dressed, go to the post office, and go visit with a friend. I need that so much right now; “me” time with someone I enjoy talking to. I haven’t spent much time with my local SCA friends lately because I’ve been trying to cut back wherever I can, and unfortunately the local events and get-togethers have suffered. By the time I’m done with work, or back in town from a weekend away, or whatever, I just don’t have it in me to go exercise with my friends or go to rapier practice. I quit going to the monthly populace meetings and the months Court Nights because A – I’m not an officer anymore, so I don’t have to go to the populace meetings and B – no awards or recognitions are ever given out at Court Nights, so what’s the point? It’s generally a regurgitation of the information from the populace meeting, which I can easily get from my husband. So, long story short, I don’t see my local friends too much. Feeling kinda guilty about that lately, so I need to see when I can find the time to hang out with them where it won’t add to my already-full plate.

That being said, the next two months–basically now through Estrella War–are still going to be hectic. I still need to reevaluate the events I’ve agreed to attend and see which I can stay home for. I’ll feel bad leaving my husband to attend on his own, but I have to take my health and well-being into consideration. The stress is affecting me adversely, so I need need need to do this. For me. For my sanity. For my physical health and mental health. All of it.

It’s all over when the fat man sings

#books, #dreams, #dystopian, #publishing, Abnormal, Age, Birthday, Celebrity, Christmas, Cosplay, costuming, Crafting, embroidery, Exercise, family, Fandom, Fitness, Geek, Health, Holiday, Home, New Year, Novel, Parties, SCA, Sci-fi, Self Publishing, Sewing, Stress, Time, Weight loss, Work, Writing

So maybe it’s not “over” quite yet. I mean, it’s barely 2:00 PM. But the presents have been presented, the family ate breakfast with us, and all-in-all, aside from Christmas dinner at my parents’ house, Christmas is pretty much over. I haven’t even had a full day off from sewing and stuff–my husband just asked how far along I am on the Persian garb. I need to stop being so wicked; no rest, man, no rest at all.

I keep trying to tell myself that after Estrella things will calm down. I’ll have fewer sewing projects, I’ll be able to back away and take a break from SCA events, and I’ll have (theoretically) more time to write. That’s still two months away, though, and I have a crapton of things to do in those two months.

Did I enjoy my Christmas morning? Sure. It was nice having the family over, everyone seemed to love their gifts, and breakfast was tasty. But now, it seems, I don’t know what to do with myself. I could write, sure, but that’s work. So is sewing. And embroidery. I wanted a day off…but it’s not gonna happen. I can see that now.

I’ve been doing a lot of whining as of late. I need to quit that…along with quitting junk food and overeating, and quitting volunteering for all the things, and quitting not going to exercise (though that one will perhaps be the toughest, because I hate exercising in public and the group of friends I work out with now goes to a public gym).

Maybe I can be lazy for another week and save the above paragraph for New Year’s resolutions. Have a big ol’ list of stuff that I’m going to quit or give up or start or start back up. Who knows. I kinda hate resolutions, too. I tend to not get them done if they’re anything associated with me losing weight or getting healthier. The writing ones? Yeah, I can do those. Cosplay goals? If I can lose the weight, I can usually manage. It’s kind of a matter of how hard I want it, or how hard Thing X is. If Thing X is writing, I got this. If Thing X is getting on a treadmill to have half the town watch my fat jiggle, well, Thing X might not be a resolution I’d keep.

What will 2019 bring me? It’ll bring me age 40, hopefully around the time Escaping the Light hits shelves. That would be an awesome birthday present. Forty years old and a three-time published novelist, with two of them traditionally/indie published and one self-published. Yeah. A published sequel will be great for the midlife crisis. Maybe I can become a shut-in when I’m not at work and just churn out novels for the next, say, twenty to twenty-five years. Hit the Golden Years with a bunch of series and standalones.

It’s nice to dream, anyway…

Release

#bipolar, anxiety, Depression, Health, Mental Health, Stress, Work

Things are getting tougher.

I want to get all this stress out, but I don’t want to talk about it. I’m tired of crying, and if I talk about it I’ll cry…so I’m writing about it.

You see, I used to cut. I know, I know, that’s, like, considered a teenage girl kinda thing. Well, maybe until Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects. Good book, but the miniseries was kinda bland. Anywho, up until eight or nine years ago, when I got stressed or depressed or manic or self-deprecating or any other such extreme emotion, I’d cut myself. Not, like, bad. Just enough to bleed. Just enough for the water to sting when I took a shower.

I haven’t seriously wanted to for a long, long time.

I kinda want to now.

Work is too much. Home is too much. SCA is too much. Bills are too much. Life is too much.

I’m fighting it, but it’s getting stronger. I kinda want to feel the rush. To bleed. To release some of this pent-up anger and frustration and depression and anxiety and hopelessness.

Yeah. That. I want that. Not that deep…just the surface. But yeah.

But I can’t. I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.

Maybe this post will be cathartic enough that the urge will pass. I’ll waffle inside my head on whether or not I’m really going to try to find a knife or razor blade or something. I’ll think about it, and I’ll realize that I don’t know where in the house any of those things really are. So much stuff is kinda in flux because of the move, and kinda because I’m terrible at organizing things.

Nah, I’m not gonna. I’d have to search the garage or the craft room or the bedroom, and I have no real reason to go to that much effort. So I’ll take a deep breath, type some more, and then take my nightly pills and go lie down.

I still have the stress. The depression. The anxiety. The slightly hopeless feeling. But I don’t think I’ll need release. Not like that. Not tonight, and not any time soon.

This has been a little cathartic. Not quite full-on flood-of-emotions cathartic, but a little.

Just one more day of work before four days off, two on, three off, one on, one off. That’ll help the work part of the stress, but not the budget part of it. I’m gonna have a stress buildup until the good ol’ taxes get filed and the returns come in. Pay off a couple people, pay down a couple things, get some stuff taken care of.

Gotta hold on.

Gotta resist.

Can’t release.

Not now.

Not ever again.

Slow burn

#bipolar, #books, #design, #publishing, Abnormal, anxiety, Art, costuming, Crafting, Depression, embroidery, fencing, Freedom, Friendship, Health, Home, Insomnia, Marketing, Mental Health, Musings, Novel, Parties, Promotion, SCA, Sci-fi, Sewing, Sleep, Social Media, Stress, swordfighting, Thoughts, Time, Work, Writing

I’m trying. I really am.

I get up and go to work every weekday (unless the office is closed or–rarely–I request off for an appointment or something). I work a full week, sometimes into overtime, and I hardly ever call out or ask to go home early. I clock in on time, and I stay until my boss says I can go. If that means clocking out less than twelve hours before I have to clock in again, then that’s what I do. If it means working when I’m in pain, I do. If it means working through a panic attack, I do. I can’t afford not to.

Most weekends I end up doing SCA things; whether it’s an event, a household meeting, rapier practice, or crafting various things for SCA events, household meetings, or (rarely) something just for me.

I sleep when my body lets me. Sometimes it’s six hours, more often closer to four, maybe four and a half. I drink caffeine and take Adderall to make it through the above listed days without falling asleep sitting up…or standing up. Or while driving.

I do the laundry every week, sometimes multiple days a week. Sometimes I’m aching enough that I have difficulty picking up the clothes that end up on the floor instead of the hamper…. so I leave them. Sometimes I’m so worn out from all the other things that I leave the clean laundry in the dryer for a few days and just fluff it when I need something to wear. Sometimes I go to the effort of taking the laundry out of the dryer and putting it back in the hamper until I have the energy to put it away.

When I have time alone–usually in the wee hours, when sleep evades me–I write. Or edit. Or revise. Or embroider. Or sew. Or plan and execute social media marketing stuff for my writing.

There’s more, but right now I can’t think of exactly what.

I’m trying. I really am. But I am feeling more and more burned out lately. Just thinking about the things I have to do makes me exhausted and depressed. The things that I used to do for fun are now duties. Chores. Requirements. Necessities. There are deadlines upon deadlines upon deadlines. Even the SCA events that used to get me all excited now fill me with dread. It’s not “yay! I get to do this thing!” It’s “well, I guess I have to do this thing.” 

I need some me time. Problem is, time is not something that I have available to give myself. It’s all filled with things. Work. SCA. Housework. Crafting.

I can only do so much. My body and my mind and my spirit are all stretched as far as they can go.

I need to think. Introspect. Look inside. Take all the pieces and see where they fit–and what ones shouldn’t even be in the puzzle. I need to prioritize and cut back where I can. 

Some people might feel like I’m pulling away, but it’s not trying to get away from them so much as trying to regroup.

I’m committed to several things for the next two months. I have to hold on at least that long. But after Estrella War?

I might not try as hard. I really might not.

Right of passage

Age, anxiety, Health, Learning, Mental Health, Musings, Stress, Thoughts, Time, Work

Well, it’s happening. Can’t stop Mother Nature, but I sure wish She’d given me some kind of warning.

So here’s what happened:

The work day started like normal. I opened the exam rooms and worked up a couple of patients. I got hot, as I tend to do when I start work.

Problem is, I couldn’t cool down. Like, sheen of sweat, trouble breathing, full-blown panic hot.

I think I just experienced my first hot flash. And my brain (at the time) switched into freakout mode because it didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

I’m okay now. I hyperventilated a bit, cried a bit, and finally got my temperature regulated… just in time for the doctor to crank up the heat in the office.

I’m a tad young for it, but now that it’s over I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen eventually. I just wish it hadn’t happened while I was at work. I got too much to do for that kind of mess to be going on.

Does this mean I can blame any wild mood swings on menopause? Because that I might be able to handle.

After feast comes famine

#books, #design, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Art, costuming, Crafting, embroidery, Exercise, Fitness, Geek, Health, Holiday, Home, Novel, SCA, Sci-fi, Sewing, Stress, Thanksgiving, Time, Weight loss, Work, Writing

I made it through Thanksgiving weekend, despite my stomach and esophagus rebelling against the copious amounts of food I had each day. Now I have to buckle down and get back to work on Escaping the Light, among other things. 

There’s still the original Super Sekret Projekt for embroidery that needs to be done, and the current projects I have lined up. There’s making gift bags for the Christmas holiday giving season. There’s embroidery that the Baroness of a nearby Barony asked me to do before Estrella War. There’s my husband’s Viking hood to finish. There’s two full Persian outfits to make before January. There’s a lot.

In addition to going back to my old writing and crafting habits, I have to create new eating and exercising habits. I’m tired of being fat. I’m tired of feeling sluggish and miserable. I’m going to go back to exercising with my friends, but I worry that I won’t be able to get back into the routine or keep up like I used to. They have never once made me feel bad about not being on their level physically, but my own tricksy mind has. I mean, I used to kind of be able to keep up. Now, on the rare occasions when I’ve gone back, I am far, far behind while they all have increased their stamina and endurance. It sucks.

Today I have my annual physical, too. So I have to tell the doc about the weight issues and other concerns I have…like the aforementioned reflux that has been eating away at my esophagus and is in no way healthy. It can be damn dangerous if I let it go, actually, so I need to make sure I get some kind of prescription for it. I can take OTC meds, but there might be something stronger or better for it that he can prescribe. Maybe.

The breakneck pace of constant SCA events and other running around has slowed some, but not much. I’ve got a dyeing class that I’m going to this weekend, a household meeting (we’re finally officially members of House Sable Millrind!), next weekend is Christmas shopping with household members, the weekend after is the work Christmas party, the week after that is pre-Christmas at the in-laws’ house, the week after is…something, I’m sure. Maybe that’s a weekend off–I don’t know anymore.

Amidst all of that I still have to find time to exercise, to practice rapier more, to write/revise…

…And to goddamn sit up straighter. Geez, I didn’t even have anything overly spicy or irritating for breakfast, but because I’ve been slouching I can feel the acid creeping up inside my chest. Yuck.

The good news is, the Christmas tree has been up for a few days now and no cat destruction has occurred. They’re mildly interested from time to time, but aside from sniffing it or maybe nibbling on the plastic branches, Rory and River really have been good with it. Mostly leaving it alone. Hopefully I won’t lose too many ornaments this year to feline antics.

I still have a couple of Doctor Who ornaments to put up, but they’re fragile and important to us because they were gifts, so I’m waiting until I’m 100% sure they’re at least relatively safe from the cats. 

I guess that’s about all for now. Life moves on. The wheels keep turning and all that. But I’ve got at least some semblance of a plan for keeping myself in better shape and for getting things done.

“I’m fine” is the biggest lie of them all

#bipolar, Depression, Health, Mental Health, Musings, Stress, Thoughts

We’ve all done it. We’ve all been a little stressed, a little down, a little depressed. And we’ve all, at some point during these times, have said “I’m fine.”

There are variations of “I’m fine.” There’s “I’m just tired.” There’s “Nothing’s wrong, really.” These are lies.

They’re not meant to be harmful or malicious lies. They’re meant to spare the person who’s asking how you are from having to deal with your problems. And, in a way, they’re meant as an effort to convince yourself that you are fine when you are, in fact, quite not fine.

I’ve been guilty of these lies more times than I can count….in the last week alone, to be honest. When my husband asks how my day at work went, I don’t want to burden him with “I think I’m depressed so even though the day went all right I’m feeling really down.” So I don’t say that. I say “Meh” or “Fine” or some such nonsense–and it is nonsense.

Why don’t I just say what’s really going through my head? Why don’t I say I’m becoming depressed? A large part of it is the whole burden thing. I don’t want to be one. Another factor is the realization that if I admit to being depressed, I’ll be inundated with questions as to why I’m depressed or how the person can help me not be depressed….questions I don’t always have an answer to.

Yet another part of it is that I’m bipolar; being depressed once in a while comes with the package. I mean, that’s been my experience with it. You get depressed for a while, but as long as it doesn’t get into I-want-to-hurt-myself depression then it’s fine to just wait it out, right?

There’s that lie again: “it’s fine.”

I suppose I should quit lying–to myself and to others. I should say when I’m depressed. I should probably even go to the doctor, depending on how depressed I am. But that’s admitting that I can’t handle it. That I can’t get out of the depression on my own. That I’m not as strong as I’d like to think I am.

One frustrating part is that even when I’m not “fine,” there are moments sprinkled throughout the day where I am “fine.” I’m not necessarily depressed 100% of the time when I’m depressed. I might be depressed only  when I’m alone, or only when I’m bored, or only when I’m away from home, or only when I’m at home. The depression could be more of a conditional state of being than a constant state.

Am I “fine” right now? Yeah. Sure. 

Am I lying about that?

I don’t really know.

Let the madness begin (again)

#books, #design, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Abnormal, Art, Art for sale, Celebrity, Convention, Crafting, Fandom, fencing, Geek, Health, Novel, Promotion, SCA, Sci-fi, Sewing, Stress, swordfighting, Time, Work, Writing

Though I kinda already knew they would, I’m ecstatic that RhetAskew Publishing has requested the full manuscript of Escaping the Light. 🙂 I sent it in this morning, and though I–and they–know it needs a lot of work, I’m excited to get started on the next step in my publishing journey.

Books for Tucson Comic-Con have been ordered and one of the two business licenses I will need has been requested (still need to find an envelope to mail in the second one). Going to be selling the books and of course the bookmarks I’m making. I even found a cool new fabric at Wal-Mart of all places to make a bunch of sugar skull bookmarks. Yeah, the con is a couple days after Halloween, but hey, sugar skull sells. That’s a fact. I’m out of town this weekend, though, so there won’t be any production of bookmarks until I get home. I’ve got roughly 17-18 made (that aren’t set aside for gifts and the like), so I’ll really have to get hopping if I’m going to have enough for the whole weekend.

One bad thing about the con being only 13 days away? I started getting a cold sore on my upper lip yesterday. FML. I guess it’s the stress starting to get to me. Almost couldn’t have come at a worse time–because it can take 10 days or more for a cold sore to go away. I bought some OTC stuff to put on it a few times a day, so I’m hoping that helps shorten the healing time. I don’t want to be selling books in front of hundreds or thousands of people with a big-ass scab on my lip. (Okay, I don’t want to be working up patients with said scab on my lip, either.)

Today will be mostly spent at an SCA event, where I’ll get to do some rapier fighting in my chain mail shirt for the first time since I got it a couple of months ago. Time and my busy schedule haven’t allowed me to use it yet. The one day when I did have it on and ready to go it started storming right as practice was about to begin, and they’re real sticklers for not waving around long metal rods while there’s lightning nearby.

Also, it’s lightning, NOT “lightening.” One means bolts of electricity from the sky, one means to make lighter in color or tone. One is a noun, one is a verb. This has been a PSA.

A little bit anxious, a little bit freaking out

#books, #design, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Abnormal, autoimmune, Celebrity, Convention, Crafting, Fandom, Geek, Marketing, Novel, Promotion, Sci-fi, Sewing, Stress, Time, Work, Writing

So the con is 16 days away.

Sixteen days to order books, order a PayPal chip reader, get the things I need to buy for the table, and get something together to sell besides just books.

FML.

I don’t know how this snuck up on me. I mean, I have a widget for my phone that tells me exactly how many days are left. I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s almost here.

I think I’m either going to print photos of some of the Instagram graphics I’ve made from Abnormal quotes (see below) or make up some fabric bookmarks. Handmade geeky stuff is good for cons, right? Either way, it’ll be something nice and quick that I can churn out before the con.

I think photos of images like the one above might be fun to print out, and I can sign them as well. A buck or two for those wouldn’t be too bad, right? If that fails, though, I can make bookmarks out of the fabric I already have and just have some geeky bookmarks on hand to sell for a buck or two, and those would go with the books nicely because hey, books and bookmarks go together like peas and carrots.

Either way, it means more work before con. I can do it (provided the rheumatoid arthritis doesn’t get too painful), but I’ll have to bust butt to get it all done.

Better get busting.

Nervous energy

#bipolar, #books, #dystopian, #nerd, #publishing, Abnormal, anxiety, Celebrity, Depression, Fandom, Geek, Health, Insomnia, Marketing, Mental Health, Novel, Promotion, Sci-fi, Sleep, Social Media, Stress, Work, Writing

Maybe it’s because my confidence has always been low. Maybe it’s because the process is still new to me, even though I’ve been through it before. Maybe it’s just those just-submitted-my-manuscript jitters.

Regardless of the cause, I’m abuzz with a ton of energy–too much for the amount of sleep I haven’t gotten yet.

I thought there’d be a rush of relief, a release of pent-up adrenaline, something, but nope. All that excess energy is still swimming around inside my head, and it’s frustrating. I want to sleep. I want to rest. I don’t really want to be up right now, yet here I am. Sure, I could have stayed in bed, but as I’ve discovered lately, unless I’m woken by my bladder and my bladder alone, when I’m awake I’m awake for at least a good hour or two, and the longer I spend in bed lamenting my lack of sleep the harder it is to doze back off. At least out in the living room I can get stuff done.

Yesterday I finished revisions on the draft of Book 2 and started the tedious process of writing an outline, synopsis, and query letter. Yep, those nasty little necessities that make being an author actual work. I bet if I logged the actual hours I spent working on writing, editing, revising, marketing, and promoting, I’d be in OT. Like, every week.

I know my husband isn’t at all happy with my predawn antics. He wants me in bed, resting. But it’s not like I’m getting up early on purpose–I just…wake up. A lot.

Tomorrow morning I see the ol’ psychiatrist. Guess it might be time to change up the sleeping meds…again. The last med he gave me works well enough at full dose, except I can’t wake up properly in the morning. I get extremely groggy, and I’ve had some close calls on the commute to work when I take the full dose. The doctor said that if that happens I can half it, so I half it. But fat lot of good it does at half.

Sometimes I wonder if this insomnia is bipolar-related, but when I think back on it this has been going on a very, very long time, too long for it to be a manic episode. I think I’d be proper crazy if I was in a sustained manic state for this long. As it is, I’m only semi-crazy, so I guess it doesn’t stem from the bipolar. Is that a good thing? I have no clue.

The psychiatrist should be pleased that Abnormal has been published, along with a book signing and a library appearance, but he’ll be disappointed that I haven’t been on Oprah’s show yet. I guess that’s his gauge of success for an author: appearing on Oprah.

I somehow doubt Oprah would be interested in my writing style, but who knows? Maybe I should add her to my list of influencers to contact. Lol