…between posts, you know it is time to write another post.
I haven’t written much lately, because my life has become a bit of a black hole of same same same. Not bad. Tiring. Not much new to say.
Except that my stomach problems are still here. I’m still stressed out. I nearly got depressed, which if you know me in real life, would make you shake your head and say WHAAAAT? I am one of those people who is normally so happy, that I annoy people. But the stomach thing makes everything worse. If I have a stressful day at work, then come home to a tantruming two-year-old and an annoyed five-year-old and I do my best to feed them and love them and get them ready for bed… I can’t have a @#$%$^% glass of wine after they go to bed! And I can’t have a coffee when I get up. There is only so much I can do without a little bit of chemical help from food and drink.
But I reached a bit of a low point and went out for drinks with a very good friend (mind you, I couldn’t actually drink) and it helped me re-adjust things.
Things have gotten better.
I’ll talk about my stomach. I’m sure you logged on tonight because you are just so excited to hear about my digestive system! Goody!
I was sent by my regular doctor to a GI specialist, who basically told me that there’s nothing to be done. Some people just have over-active intestines.
This visit, of course, made me stick my middle finger high up in the air (yes, mom, but in a figurative way, of course) at western medicine. I decided to stop trying one thing at a time and get all eastern on my stomach. So I’ve started the following things: a retired teacher in my building insists that aloe vera gel saved her stomach, so I’m taking that; another good friend was saved by a probiotic called threelac (the GI doctor did say that some people have had success with probiotics) so I bought a similar product and have been taking that; aaaaannnddd oh, and acupuncture. I’m getting to something fairly interesting, I promise.
I don’t care what anybody says, acupuncture does hurt. And it is weird. I found this great place that does community acupuncture. That means that several people are getting treatments at the same time in the room with you. It also means that it is a lot more affordable than having it done privately. I really like it. I mean, I would like it more if I actually enjoyed the acupuncture.
So, I sit there on a chair, and the wonderful, healing nurturing acupuncturist sticks needles in me. And they do hurt (maybe it is a red-head thing). My limbs get heavy. I can’t really move them. Some of the needles throb (the acupuncturist says that means they are working). I start to imagine what would happen if the building caught on fire. I don’t actually think I could get out of the chair with all the needles in me. Then you have to sit there with the needles in. For a long time. I have trouble sitting still. But, I don’t recommend fidgeting with needles stuck all over you. No. Not recommended.
I’ve had two treatments. In both of them, the fact of my infertility treatments has surfaced like a dusty penny from under the couch. Have I had my ovaries checked? Well…. I was very familiar with my ovaries two years ago. Very familiar. Have I had any stressful, traumatic experiences? Have I mentioned two years ago? Can I blame my current state of imbalance and messed-uppedness on follical-stimulating hormones? Please? I would love to.
So I sit there and think.
I don’t get to do that very often. Just think. Without a child jumping on me. Without my phone in my hand. No book. No computer. No stack of papers to grade.
Tonight I started to think about what has made me sad. A big part of it is the current assault against my profession by a billionaire boys’ club. I’m taking it too personally. Another part is that I don’t get enough adult time. Another part is that I feel like I never finish anything.
I’ve made it a priority to spend more time with adults. I can do that. I’m trying to let go of my anger about education reform. Also, trying to do something about it. But what about the finishing bit? Has anyone noticed that I’ve had a page about my so-called book for three years? And no book? No freaking book.
Maybe what I need to do to feel better about not finishing things, is to finish something. Yeah. Maybe that.