Hives, but no Bees

Ok, I’m ready to talk about the health crap I’ve been going through for the last few months. It’s not pretty, but also not lethal. Except to my mental health.

It really started at the end of March, when I came down with bronchitis. I thought it might be covid, because many of the symptoms match, so I got tested. Obviously, it came back negative, so I got on antibiotics & recovered from that.

At this point, I started working from home, since we were planning that anyway at my office, & I wasn’t the only one from my department that was going to be doing work from home. We hadn’t planned on me starting so soon, but it worked out.

Then, I got the flu about a week later. Good thing I was working from home, as I was able to log in & work when I could, without having to travel to the office, feeling like crap, & possibly infecting coworkers.

Then, a couple of days later… I started to notice hives.

Just a few spots to start, they quickly seemed to spread, until they covered most of my body in extremely itchy, raised red welts.

And I do mean covered.

As in, at least 85℅ of my body was itching, welted, or felt like it was extremely sunburned.

These are pictures I took to show my doctor. They are just of my arms, and aren’t of the worst days.

I went through 2&1/2 bottles of calamine, and was double dosing myself with antihistamines. (I can’t take anything with diphenhydramine in it, like benadryl, as it makes my heart race, so I had to take what I can)

I also ended up with chemical burns from all the calamine. It dries your skin extremely well, so well, in fact, that if you use it for 2 months, you get dry-skin burns. And believe me, they hurt. It took copious amounts of lotion to relieve and reverse this. Don’t overdo calamine, folks. Trust me.

Think of it like pouring hydrogen peroxide into an open wound. After the bubbling stops, it turns white, right? Because it’s dessicated the tissue. Dried it to oblivion.

I also found a lotion that has menthol & camphor in it, which helps to kill the itch, & makes your skin feel extremely cold in the process, which helps with the burning feeling the inflammation causes. (It’s called Sarna)

My doc put me on prednisone, to help with that, as well as another issue, & it seemed to help.

During all of this, I tried to figure out if the hives were a reaction to a medication I’d started taking for my depression, or if it was a new allergy. Joy.

I stopped taking the antidepressant, on recommendation of my doc, and my emotions went haywire again.

I stopped eating the one food I thought might have caused the allergy. (I’m extremely picky in my eating, there aren’t a lot of things it could be, anymore)

And… The hives started to go away. It took a while, but it seemed to be working.

Then, last weekend, when I had my Schnicklefritz for the weekend, I ate something I hadn’t had for a while, & the hives flared again that night.

I thought this was my answer!

I’d found the culprit, and eliminating this would stop the hives, right?

I made an appointment with an allergist, anyway, just to make sure, but I was fairly positive I had my answer.

After seeing my doc this last week, I told her my theory, & she agreed with me, that it was probably a food allergy, had nothing to do with my med, & I could start taking it again, so I did.

That was 2 days ago.

Yesterday night, I noticed a couple of hives – on my face – and some itchy, raised patches on my thighs. I treated my legs with calamine, & my face with hydrocortisone cream.

This morning…

My legs.

I can’t show you pictures of the other places I found hives, because it was the back of my scalp, & along the back of my neck. Kind of difficult to get pictures of that, but believe me, I felt every welt.

And I’m not allowed to take any antihistamines. None.

Not until after my allergist appointment – next Wednesday.

So, I have literally zero idea what’s causing the hives.

No product changes, everything I use from soap to shampoo to laundry detergent, is stuff I’ve been using for years.

There are about 4 or 5 foods that I eat right now, and none of them have caused this since I cut the last one out. (It was barbeque, both chips & sauce, which is probably going to make me very sad, because I love barbeque. It’s one of my favorite condiments)

Most of the hives have settled down again tonight. Probably from the facts that, A) I applied calamine to every affected patch of skin I could reach, except my scalp; B) I used lidocaine spray on ALL of the welts. If it’s numb, I can’t feel the itch, so I won’t scratch, which just makes spread; & C) I haven’t eaten anything all day, but one of the few meals I know for a fact has nothing in it that will affect me.

But…

I’m frustrated.

And tired.

And depressed.

I’ve had so many problems with allergies over the years.

And now, to add hives into this?

What if the allergist can’t figure out what’s causing them?

I have enough trouble with getting people to believe me about my allergies.

I need a large change in my life.

I want to move.

And I want to get a job where I can work from my home.

I’m tired of other people pissing on my feelings, & endangering my life, because they want to eat something I’m sensitive to, something that could possibly kill me.

I’m tired of having to excuse their lapses in memory.

I’m tired of turning the other cheek when their actions impact my health.

I have an autoimmune disease, rheumatoid arthritis, which impacts so much more than just stiffness & pain in my joints. And I’m tired of people not believing me when I tell them that, too.

I need an out.

And I need it soon.

Or my mental health is going to continue to nosedive, antidepressants or not.

– _ –

In 20 years, I’ve never said these words out loud about *this* subject.

I don’t care anymore.

I’ve been struggling for over a year, now. I fell into the deepest depression of my life for over 12 months, and no one noticed.

No one cared that I pulled away, that I chose isolation over socialization. That I chose silence instead of community. No one cared to try to talk to me about it, or to help at all.

(None of this refers to my Nephew, or my children).

I’ve been having a really difficult time since I had to stop taking the antidepressant. My moods are all over the map, no matter what I try to balance. I swing wildly between crushing grief & borderline rage, all the while, flailing chaotically with a happy-faced smiling mask, trying to distract the masses.

Trying desperately to NOT break down into tears at my desk.

I’ve been patronized & ridiculed for my mental illness, told “You should do –*this thing* — and you’ll be Totally healed. If you don’t do this, you obviously don’t want to cure your anxiety, depression, migraines, etc.” #theyknowallthesecrets #becausetheysayso

As though I’ve never done any research into the medical issues I have. Who, ME? No, I don’t do research….. *oozing sarcasm*

As though mental illnesses that are exacerbated by a chemical imbalance can EVER BE CURED COMPLETELY.

I’m so fucking done. I feel like tossing all of my social media platforms (barring WordPress and tiktok) onto the ground before me, dousing it in mental gasoline, & burning those fucking bridges to ash.

I am quickly reaching endgame.

That point where, when you have nothing left to lose, you throw every-fucking-thing to the wind in a last second Hail Mary pass.

When the unknown is preferable to what you can see in front of you, it’s time to light that match, cross that bridge, & toss the flame behind you.

I’m done sitting down for others to try to walk over me.

I’m making plans, & cleaning house.

The silence only gets deeper from here.

• 

• 

• 

Just a Little Pinch

It’s been a couple of days since what happened, happened.

I decided to let it sit a little, to figure out how I really felt about it, without just busting off about my feelings and possibly saying something that was “heat of the moment”.

It was a sympathy card.

One that got passed around the office for a coworker from another office, due to the loss of a family member.

Innocent and compassionate, it showed that our coworkers cared about how another one was feeling.

And yet, as I signed it…

I felt a little sting in my chest.

Because, I lost both an uncle and a cousin, father and son, last month, both to cancer…

And yet, no one signed a card for me.

No, I’m not looking to be the center of attention, nor did I need, or want, coworkers fawning over me with pity. When I grieve, I would rather do it behind closed doors, at home. I HATE falling apart in front of people I’m not close to. And believe me, the circle of people I’m close enough to to feel comfortable showing that level of emotion in front of – is miniscule.

I’m glad I took the time to really think about my reaction, because I wasn’t truly sure why I reacted that way, when I don’t like being the center of attention, & would probably have felt extremely uncomfortable having everyone stare at me if I opened the card in the office.

And I realized, I felt that twinge…

Because it finally really hit home that I’m very isolated emotionally from my coworkers. They just don’t see me. Not the true me.

They see the quiet one who hates mornings, so she doesn’t talk to anyone unless directly approached until about 10am.

They see the jokester who makes people smile & laugh.

They see the professional who can talk to just about anyone who comes through the doors, then, as soon as they leave, changes gears back to being quiet & focused on work.

They see the silent one who tries not to engage in the break room, because I’m reading, & really want to be in the story.

But they only see those masks.

I’ve tried in the past, tentatively, to get to know some of the coworkers a little deeper than just small talk.

But, when it’s just not reciprocated, I pull back again, and don’t try anymore.

I hate being a bother or an obligation.

So, i just don’t really try all that hard to be the instigator of deeper conversations, anymore.

Because that twinge hits when you get brushed off.

This was just a little pinch.

And, while I can forgive, because I know there was no malice…

It reminds me that – I don’t truly belong.

And I don’t forget.

Spiraling and in need of a Net

Possible trigger warning. ⚠

I can’t believe what I heard in my office this morning, and it’s got me so upset that I’m spiraling into my PTSD.

I’m going to have nightmares tonight, that’s a given.

I was minding my own business this morning, when I heard two coworkers talking about the Kavanaugh hearings, and about Dr. Christine Blasey Ford coming forward about her past experience. They were asking opinions on what people believe.

To be completely honest, I haven’t been able to read a lot in depth about this, because of my own past, so I don’t have all the facts about this case right at my fingertips.

But, what I do have, from what I have gleaned in my perusals of the news, is that I believe the women who’ve come forward.

But that’s neither here nor there, because that’s not really what this post is about.

What I heard my coworkers saying was, basically, that they couldn’t believe that anyone credible would wait 30 years to come forward with an allegation of sexual abuse.

It stopped me in my tracks.

And I had to speak.

I told them both that, I could certainly believe someone could wait 30 years to come forward. And that, maybe, she did come forward back then, but whomever she told, didn’t believe her, or blamed her, so she didn’t tell anyone else. I told them that I knew exactly how it felt to not be believed as a 48-year old woman, speaking about a 30-year old occurrence, and how it felt as a 16-year old to not be believed when it happened.

I could certainly believe a teenager NOT coming forward out of fear back then, because of the much more sinister rape culture I grew up in that blamed everything on the female; from what she wore, to how she walked, to whether she smiled at the perpetrator.

Then, one of my coworkers went on to say – that she couldn’t believe that Bill Cosby was going to prison for as long as he is. And that she didn’t think he deserved to go to jail. “He’s 80 years old, for cripes sake, he doesn’t deserve to go to jail for the rest of his life.”

WHAT.

Stop.

My head almost spun around on my shoulders, & I wanted to scream. I’ve been wanting to tear into her ever since, but have kept my mouth shut in order to keep my sanity as well as my job.

But, I CAN’T BELIEVE she basically stated that it’s acceptable for someone to get away with being a MASS RAPIST, which Bill Cosby IS, it has been PROVEN IN A COURT OF LAW, simply because of his fucking AGE.

The women who had to go through the tragedy of abuse at his hands have had to live with this, and will have to live with this FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES.

But – by her way of thinking? Because he’s geriatric? Eh…he gets a pass.

FUCK THAT.

RAPE CULTURE LIVES AND THRIVES BECAUSE OF THINKING LIKE THIS.

What Bill Cosby did is not only unacceptable, it is horrific and disgusting. It deserves far more than the 3-10 years the judge has sentenced him to.

DOZENS of women came forward to accuse him, but only 3 counts were able to stick. Because rape culture still blames women, and women are still afraid to come forward, and the statue of limitations has run out in many cases.

What Brett Kavanaugh stands accused of is also disgusting, unacceptable, and horrific. As such, there is no way he should sit on the Supreme Court of this country.

Tell me… If someone stood by and watched your child get raped, or helped someone else rape your child, would you want them sitting as a judge… Anywhere??

I don’t care when it happened in that person’s life, it speaks to their moral character, which is not likely to change that drastically. If he was that apathetic at 17, He’s worse now.

We only become more fully ourselves as we age.

My head is still spinning, I can’t get a grasp on everything I’m thinking, and I just want to sit & scream. My chest hurts, which I know is extreme anxiety, & my heart is pounding.

My anxiety meds are SO not doing their job today.

My PTSD is flaring so badly right now, I wish I could just stay home & hide with the cats, but I have to go back to work to finish the day. My lunch break is almost over, being not nearly long enough.

But, thank Goddess it’s the weekend, because if I had to go into the office tomorrow? I don’t think it would go well.

I need time to decompress, & to stop rehearsing arguments in my head.

Granted, one of my coworkers did stop me later to ask me more about my own experience, and to express sympathy, which helps. Of course it does.

I just wish more people would get educated on rape culture, on what it means for the survivors of abuse of all kinds, & on what should happen in the justice system, instead of what actually does.

Dammit. I still can’t believe they said that.

And around we go.

It Won’t Quite Be Today

Monday I found out that my ex-boss from my old job at “that place” died. She was 82.

She had health issues, which I would be willing to bet contributed to her passing away, but honestly, I think she was ready to go be with her husband, who passed many years before.

I’ve written before about her. About how I think she wanted to stop time when her husband passed, & was bitter over the fact that the rest of the world wouldn’t cooperate.

I… have… feelings… about this woman. And no, they’re not pleasant feelings.

Yes, I’m still angry.

Because of things she said & did, because of things she stood aside and allowed to be said to me by others, when, as my employer, she should have stood up for me – this was the span of time when I had to start talking to my doctor about anxiety, & finding the right medication for it, because it spiralled out of control.

Maybe it would have happened eventually, anyway? Maybe not? But, the stress this woman put me under at my job, due to her direct influence and due to her selfish neglect, I truly believe she caused a chain reaction for me that ended up with panic attacks and severe anxiety.

Both have now been tempered, thank Goddess, but it was really bad, back then.

I’ve had a couple people tell me I should just “let it go”, now that she’s gone. And that I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

That day is not today.

I will start to let go of the anger I have towards her, because I am still in the healing process.

But it won’t happen today.

I won’t let myself become bitter with this, or hold this grudge. I’m not good at grudges.

And I know the sharp, hot taste of anger in my mouth, the heat of it rising like magma in my chest, making me shake with it as I used to drive past her other business & would flip it the bird.

Yes, I used to flip her other business off…every time I drove by it. EVERY. TIME.

For those who don’t live in my city, or know which business she ran, it sat on one of the main thorough-fares in our city, and I drove past it at least once a week, if not 3 or 4 times.

That’s a lot of middle fingers.

But I know that spicy, angry tang… doesn’t last.

It fades.

Unless you fuel it, religiously topping it with the coal it needs to keep embers ablaze in your gut for years.

Leaving you with the bitter fallout of ash on your tongue.

You speak nothing but that bitter taste, for that’s all you know, constantly regurgitating it from within, constantly stoking that furnace of hatred and regret, leaving you nothing but gray.

No color, no joy, no future.

I do know the difference between temporary anger, and permanent bitterness.

Even if my anger has been 10 years in the healing, and still – the scabs crack & bleed a little when scraped.

I’m working on healing.

But – It won’t quite be today.

The Road to Bitterness

I used to work for a very sad, lonely, bitter woman. You could almost taste anger in the air around you when she walked into the building, and the days were always longer and more difficult when she hung around the office. She didn’t come around a lot, thank goodness, as she had more than one business she ran, & preferred to spend most of her time at the other place.

While I worked for her, I knew some of her story…how she’d lost her husband to cancer the year I graduated high school, and that this was the reason she was so isolated from others. 

But, I could never really wrap my mind around how much his death had affected her, & how she’d let it change her so.

Not until this year’s changes in my own life started affecting me.

You see…

I finally figured out, that when M lost her husband, her whole life came to a screeching halt. 

Because she couldn’t bear to let it move forward. 

He was her everything. He was her balance, her other side to her life’s coin. She was the saver, the conservative, the grounded, down-to-earth realist…while he was the spender, the dreamer, the up-in-the-clouds risk-taker. He lifted her up from the doldrums, and she brought him back to reality.  They worked together, really, really well, but apart, they spun out of control in opposite directions.

And once he was gone…she ground to a halt. And resented that the world around her kept spinning.

She took it as a personal attack, a total offensive affront, that life didn’t just stop out of respect for his death.

As the years kept flowing past, she refused to acknowledge the truth, & held fast. Hoarding things, trying to fill the hole he left behind with stuff, even though it never worked, she kept at it, & still tries to this day, clinging to the past. Bitter & angry, isolated from the people who would’ve helped her move through her loss.

But she didn’t want to.

Without her Balance, she lost her Passion, her Reason to move forward with the rest of the world.

And so, she moved into Bitterness, and remains there to this day.

My story is different than hers, in that I haven’t lost my life-partner to death.

But, I have lost some of the same Balance…some of my Passion…and my Reason to move forward every day. 

My family, my children, have all scattered  into the winds to live their own lives. Natural, and expected, true, and I knew this day was coming. My caretaking days have always been numbered. Children are not meant to live with their parents for their whole lives.  They are, however, meant to grow up, become independent, move out, seek lives of their own, & leave their parents behind.

This, is right, and good, and natural.

However, this also means that I need to search for a new Balance. A new Passion. A new Reason to get out of bed, to move forward with the world…

Or I risk becoming like M…

I can feel the bitterness seeping into me, some days…

I can sense myself becoming short with others, isolating myself from the world, because I can’t bear to witness their happiness, as I sit outside it, alone, and chafed with the cold of that loneliness.

I’m not angry, yet, that they’re happy…truly, I’m not.

But I envy what I do not have, & I can envision a future where I could hate them for it…if I allowed myself to take that road.

This…

This – terrifies me. That I could become such a hateful thing. 

This is not who I am.

I am a woman who loves.

I am a woman who is a Caretaker.

It has always been one of the deepest purposes of my life. To help others. To take care of those I love.

And to contemplate the possibility that I could actually become so bitter towards others for simply being happy ?

I can’t let this happen.

This – is why I need to leave this place.

I need a fresh start.

All I have here anymore is my job.

And, even though I still love what I do…

It’s not enough.

It’s not enough to get me out of bed every morning, because my job is not my Passion.  It’s not my Balance. And it’s not my Reason.

It’s not enough to keep me from the Bitterness…

And that’s frightening.

This is why I’m making my plan. My one-year plan is to save enough money so that I can move. I will sell the house in which I currently live, & I am going to move to another part of the country for that fresh start. 

I know that it will be scary, starting over at my age. At 47, it’s not always easy to start afresh with the job market, but I have skills that I can take with me to, hopefully, help with that. I have worked in my market for 17 years, & have earned the respect of lenders & realtors alike for my work ethic & skills. And, if I have to start somewhere else at ground level, so be it. I’m humble enough to know that “dirt don’t hurt”.

I just have to get there…

And that means getting off the Road to Bitterness, and on to the Road of Acceptance.

I accept that this is where I am right now.

I accept that my life has changed.

And I accept that I will continue to change every day from here on out because I will it. 

I do NOT accept bitterness.

I do NOT accept stagnation.

I have to continue to free myself from the things which are holding me down, or my wings will never lift me off the ground.  

A Start

Half days is a good place to start.

I went back to work today, feeling pretty good about my decision to start with half days.  And I think it went well.  I actually woke up before my alarm went off, so I was off to a better start than I thought.

About 10am, my lower back started to hurt, along with my abdomen, so I knew a full day wasn’t going to happen; & by 1pm, I was wiped, so I came home.

Wise choice, considering I fell asleep in my chair by 2, and slept till 5.

It continually frustrates me that I’m still getting so tired this quickly, but, I guess, since it’s still only been 3 1/2 weeks since the surgery, it isn’t unexpected.

By 6:30, I felt somewhat recovered from today, so, of course, I decided to push the envelope again, & started trimming the hedges that line one side of my property.

Yep, I’ll pay for that later.

But, fuck it.

They need doing, and I’m the one who’s here, so it’s got to be done.

Tonight, I’ll take a nice, long shower,  try to stretch out the kinks in my back & shoulders the hedge trimmer put there, & take my happy ass to bed a little earlier than normal.

Tomorrow, I’ll have to try to finish trimming, & see how far I can get on raking up the branches before my back gives out.  Yardwork never really seems to end when it’s high summer.

Speaking of which, HAPPY SUMMER SOLSTICE!!

Today was the longest day of the year, & tonight us a full moon… the Strawberry Moon, they call it, since this is when strawberries are going full force. 

And with the moon sliding into Sagittarius,  it’s the perfect time to set new goals, & take those first steps toward reaching them.

So, here I go, taking my first steps toward my new goals.

* Getting my normal life back (whatever normal means at this point).

* New craft projects, & revisiting some old ideas with a fresh perspective.

* Reclaiming who I am, and setting goals of where I want to be next year at this time.

Time to get started.

Getting Back In

I mowed my front AND back lawns today…

I know, I know…

I’m NOT supposed to be doing any heavy yardwork for another week or 3 yet.

But, it desperately needed it, and I was the only one here, so I did it.

I know I’ll pay for it tomorrow, but it was totally worth it.

I’m taking my life back, 1 nasty – ass chore at a time.

Monday, I’m going back to work, as well.
I’m going to start with half days, just to see how it goes, since I still get tired really quickly.  (I actually mowed the yards at separate times today, with lots of time between the 2, because I was wiped after the front yard, and am even more so after the back yard)

But, tomorrow,  if I’m not too far down, I’m tackling those damned hedges.

And hey, look! My pumpkins I planted have sprouted!

They’re called Peanut Pumpkins, because they start off like this…

Growing pink skin, & warty-looking spots…
And I’m hoping to do this:

Pretty cool, hunh?
I just hope I can get a couple good looking ones, & I’m going to save a bunch of seeds for next year.

Here’s to new starts, all the way around, & to taking back what’s mine.

My independence.

It Could Be Sooner

I wish I were going in for surgery tomorrow.

Really & truly.

I have only a week left before the “big slice”, but my anxiety is already ramping up, & I can feel a panic attack coming.  I’m working on calming techniques, but, sometimes, they just don’t cut it.

The pain has gotten worse, as well. It’s driving me nuts. I have only had one day this week that I’ve been able to put in a full 8 hours at work, & it’s pissing me off.   As a single mom, it’s my job to keep the roof over our heads, pay the bills, shop the groceries.  And how do you do that, when you can’t put in a full week’s work? 

Blah, blah, blah, whine, mope.

FUCK it.

This surgery could be sooner.  It could be tomorrow, then I’d be getting it behind me that much quicker.

I’m not sure how much fight I have left.

A Little Horn Tooting

https://www.etsy.com/shop/JustHowImWired

This is the link to my shop on Etsy, where I have some of the art pieces I’ve created.

I’m going to be working on some new things coming up, “fairy garden” style miniatures, which is a new area for me, so I’m excited about that.

Have a gander, browse, enjoy!