Home, Sweet Bun

Winging Westward

No place like home.

Trip Companions

Bunny, and toast. 

Ottoman

EXCUSE ME SIR. That vacuum-cleaner box is for you. The ottoman is NOT for you. Thank you. 

Caim

This, I need. 

Math-y

 Herself speaks.

The other day at work, I had to do a little bit of math as part of a project: if shareholder A holds x shares, and shareholder B holds y shares, how many additional shares ('z') must the corporation issue to shareholder A so that shareholder A holds fifty-one percent of the total outstanding shares? And honestly, it was the happiest I'd been in a long while, to tackle a word problem like that. Given x and y, solve for 'z' number of shares. 

Ah, math. Math, of concrete answers. Math, my old friend. I hadn't realized how much I had missed you.

-----

In about a week, I go north, for the celebration of life for my Daddy. My siblings and I will each have an opportunity to speak a few words about him. I've written what I would like to say. If only I can ensure that I will be able to get through it safely. It will be hard. 

One anecdote I'm including, is about how Daddy would write math problems on napkins for us children to solve while we were waiting in restaurants for our table to be ready or for our food to arrive. Math again, a source of entertainment then. It's a very fond memory. 

-----

Math -- you serve so many purposes. Could you actually be a source of comfort now? Sensible, safe and rational, not requiring tending to your emotions beyond my capacity right now, but rather, safely existing, stalwart and eternal. 

I bought myself a few math workbooks for adults. Because, why not? I'll start with algebra, work myself up to and through geometry, and maybe even into calculus, just for fun. 

At this point: I will find comfort wherever I can. 

Especially, with math.

Buddies

It really warms my heart, how the buns enjoy their companion's company. Our dogs were much more solitary critters, preferring my companionship and never cozying up together. The buns, however, are fond of proximity to one another frequently. Though never with me. (Perhaps that is the trade-off - furry, or human, company, but not both?) 

Good buns.

Questionably-Named Snacks

Tasty, though. 

Migraine Flashback Feelings

One of the few unpleasant parts about this corner of the desert, is the Windy Season. So much wind. Trash cans tipped over, dust in your eyes, a haze throughout the city. And the worst part -- the migraine that precedes the wind: a "what did I DO to cause this!?" sort of headache, a low-grade nausea and dizziness, a deep rooted bodily unease that indicates, something is wrong. It waxes and wanes, for days. It's beastly, honestly. 

One of the perils of the ongoing migraine state, is the fact that Feelings are so much closer to the surface.  (So much harder to rationalize and to self-contain and to move Vulcan-like through the world with migraine.)  It's important for me to be aware that I might be accosted somewhat unexpectedly by Large Feelings at any given moment. It's been happening. And it's been difficult. 

Yesterday, while distracting myself by scrolling through my phone in order to power through a migraine surge, the Google timeline reminded me that six years ago, I'd made a trip to a northern part of the desert. The timeline showed the hotel I'd stayed at, the nature park where I'd taken a walk, the restaurants I'd visited, even the rest areas where I'd momentarily stopped along the way between here and there. It was immediately clear what I was doing that weekend: I had been visiting Cherished Friend. 

It was hard, in that moment, to stifle the Feelings.

-----

I so miss proximity to my Cherished Friend.

I would give my eye teeth right now to be closer: to be able to go for a walk, to run errands, to play Scrabble; to do the small things; to find relief in just being in his presence, which is always a comfort to me. And the fact that I cannot do so is a miniature grief which piggybacks on the larger griefs that walk with me every day, and its little voice joins the chorus of sadness that fills my ears when the headache fills my brain.

I hope every day, that Oceanside is treating him well, and that he has people there with whom he can spend time enjoyably. I am just sad for myself, that I cannot be one of those people on a regular basis.  

Most of all, I hope that he is finding contentment and the path to his own peace. I wish for that, always. 

Every now and then, the thought crosses through my brain that I should worry he will one day forget about me or he will no longer be interested in maintaining a friendship over the miles and the years. Why imagine such terrible things, though? If a day comes when he no longer has time or brain space for me, I would hope it is because he has found his happiness -- and how delighted would I be for him, to have that? 

Another Flower

Purple, this time. 

Lego Aster

Nice. 

First

 My lovely firstborn turns thirty today. Where has the time gone? 

Milestones can be tricky, because the temptation is to look critically at yourself and judge yourself based on Society's Expectations for what you should have, what you should be doing, how you should be running your life. 

Remember this, though: you have obligations to no one except yourself. If you try to take care of yourself, and to make your corner of the world a slightly better place -- that will always be more than enough. You are already doing these things, and you are therefore succeeding. You are a lovely, tender-hearted, thoughtful person, and your smile lights up the room when you walk in. Who could ask for anything more? 

And remember to ask yourself: Are you trying to figure out your dreams and your goals? Are you doing your best to be true to yourself, to be kind to yourself, to do what you can, every day? And are you remembering that on some days, "doing your best" will be just getting through the day? 

See? So much success.

You are loved beyond measure. You are valued for your existence in this world. Go forth, and be loud and take up space and ask for what you need and what you want. You are deserving of all good things, always.

Happy birthday, Offspring the First. 

The Eye of Sauron

 There have been a couple of follow-up visits for what turned out to be a retinal macroaneurysm. I haven't written about it because that minor medical horror took a back seat to my lovely Daddy's demise later the same day. It's an ongoing issue, though, so let's circle back and enjoy this annoyance that is another-middle-aged-body-issue.

I have seen the retina specialist twice now. At the first visit, he confirmed that the macroaneurysm seemed to be self-limiting and healing on its own, with no need for treatment at this stage. Thank goodness. 

(It does, in fact, appear to be healing, because instead of appearing like a large bright orange blob in my field of vision, now the outer edges are dissipating and breaking up -- so it's more of a smaller blob with a smattering of rings/radiating bits around it. It looks, all in all, like a wee little Eye of Sauron, sort of in the lower-middle of my field of vision. It's translucent and not too bothersome. This is good because there may always be a little remaining blob there. A blobula? is there a technical term for a teeny blob?)

The retina specialist is not sure why it happened. He mentioned that sometimes, high blood pressure can cause these things. His line of questioning was... peculiar? Not quite well-explained? however, because he asked me if I had been carrying a lot of heavy groceries, or arguing a lot with.... arguing a lot. (He stopped himself just short of saying "with your husband", I am sure.) He changed direction and said instead that we don't always know what blood pressure is doing, particularly if one is carrying a lot of heavy groceries or has arguments.

Apparently, it's "querulous housewife" syndrome?

There were no questions regarding whether there had been any stressors in my life lately, or regarding my occupation or general health. As I sat there, with a mourning ribbon pinned to my shirt, I thought that perhaps if he'd looked at ME or at the information in my chart, rather than just at my eyeballs, there might have been a clue that I am a business professional with chronic migraine who just lost a parent. Maybe any of those other things might contribute to any potential blood pressure issues? Just maybe? 

My blood pressure happens to be pretty well controlled, in part because one of my migraine meds lowers blood pressure, and also because my cardiologist keeps a close eye on my blood pressure due to family history. At any rate, I kept a notebook with my blood pressure readings for the next month until my subsequent follow-up appointment and presented it to the retina specialist. It showed that my blood pressure was fine, every day, no matter what time of day or what I was doing. 

Since it thus appears that my blood pressure is not the culprit, the retina specialist stated that it had to be coughing, sneezing, or straining due to constipation. He stared at me expectantly, waiting for me to... apparently confess that one of those things had caused the issue?  Well, I was at a loss. I hadn't been sick, and honestly, because of low-grade IBS, have virtually never been constipated. (We'll just leave aside the awkwardness of discussing one's bowel habits with the eye doctor.) So it's a mystery.

Oh, and that second visit revealed that there is a SECOND macroaneurysm present. In the other eye. It's a small one, and not visible to me. The retina specialist did not seem terribly concerned, though, and told me to come back for a third visit in a few months. 

Also, apparently I'm not supposed to worry about these things happening, because worrying will raise my blood pressure, which is one of the causes of these things happening. The retina specialist seems very concerned about whether I am worrying or not -- because I'll somehow be contributing to the problem by worrying about it? It all seems very much like dismissive "woman with anxiety" medical attitude. I want to believe that this clearly-very-bright doctor isn't harboring such a backwards attitude, but it's a little difficult. 

For the love of Pete. 

I don't know why this is happening (and as we know, I am not a fan of not knowing why things are happening medically). All I can do is wait and see if it goes away, or if it doesn't. 

So: I try not to think about it. That was a little tricky when I had a cold last week (so much coughing), but what can I do? 

One foot in front of the other. One day at a time. With a tiny Eye of Sauron accompanying me. 

Light

The struggle continues.

I'm having trouble putting it into words, exactly. 

I am still very much grieving the loss of my Dad. He was one of the few people who -- in his very Dad-like way -- metaphorically stood between me and the Harms of the World, and he is now Gone. I am not necessarily unsheltered or unprotected, but I very much miss the knowledge that there was someone in the world who would be there for me, if I ever needed them. A source of quiet unconditional love, disappeared, never to return. Like a last ember, snuffed out -- no amount of waiting for its glow to reemerge from the bed of ashes will change the now-permanence of its absence. 

I can get nothing done. I have no motivation to do my tasks, to tend to my house, to others, to myself. I am going through the motions in order to remain socially acceptable. 

I dreamed the other night of going to visit his grave. I wonder if that would bring me some solace. 

I need to try to think ahead: to find something to look forward to, to make plans, to have dreams. Daddy would want that. He asked me sometimes if I was still thinking about getting a cabin in New Mexico, or about visiting Iceland or Ireland. Those were all things I thought about every now and then and talked with him about on occasion. He wanted me to have dreams. 

I have trouble having dreams. I am afraid of disappointment. If I don't want anything, I cannot be disappointed. 

One thing I do want, though, is more human connection. That is tricky, though: I need very specific connection -- purposeful, meaningful. Not superficial discussion of wine or fashion or diet. And I also need people not to ask anything of me: please do not ask me to go somewhere or pursue a minor quest or do something or make a phone call or go to the store. I am full up on minor tasks. I will, however, Listen to what is close to your heart, because that is the connection I need now. I will listen until the end of time. 

Build me a bridge of words, between your heart and mine. That is what I need most right now. 

-----

I will keep putting one foot in front of the other, day by day, moment by moment, for now. I hope that it will get easier in time. I need to have patience with myself, as my Daddy had patience with himself in his last days, doing the best he could, in his own time. 

If you too are struggling, and looking for purpose, I will ask you to sit with me. We can sit in companionable silence, and contemplate the questions. Your presence will be consoling for me, and your company is what I need most. I am grateful for you, even if you do not have answers for yourself or for me. 

Believe that there's light at the end of the tunnel.  Believe that you might be that light for someone else.  - Kobi Yamada

Feeties

Curative Cat

I have a cold. Which is TREMENDOUSLY ANNOYING, because I go nearly nowhere and see nearly no one (except people at the office, one of whom bestowed this cold upon me). I loathe being sick. But I have, at least, a cat on my lap on the couch, and that is a comfort.