Finally....

We've had several setbacks since I last wrote. 

The engineer that was going to approve our plans, so they could be taken to the building department to get the permit died. It set us back a couple of months, because there was no one else in his firm to approve it, and we got stuck in a line of hundreds of other people scrambling to find an engineer to approve the plans. Our inconvenience is nothing. Someone lost their life, and there are family and friends who are grieving his loss. We feel horrible for his loved ones! It did, however, change the course for us a bit.

The plans have been down at the building department for a month now. Apparently, new regulations went into effect on July 1 that are making things incredibly difficult to get things approved, so we wait. Just a few of the other things they needed that were a separate trip out to our house and back to the building department by the contractor: the size of the furnace - they needed to not only know the BTUs, but they also needed the physical size of the furnace-even though they approved it when it was installed 3 years ago! They also needed something having to do with the electrical system and a few more things outside the house that we didn't even realize until after the contractor had come and gone. At least we know it will be good to go when they are all finished.

But guess what?? The guys are in the garage right now working on pulling the walls down and putting in new floor joists as we speak!! We are FINALLY getting started on this! I can't even describe how exciting it is that we are moving forward in a way that we can see. I can't imagine how frustrating it has to be for the builder to have been put on hold all this time, too! I imagine it felt somewhat like a horse being restrained before the race started. The plans still haven't been approved, (hoping that happens in the next couple of days), but at least the gate is open! 

And we are chomping at the bit...

Well, that was unexpected.

Years ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD. I've known I've had it my entire life. It was incredibly hard to sit still in class when I was little, and my mind constantly wandered. I would often be out on the prairie with Laura, Mary, and Carrie in my mind. We weren't just picking wildflowers. We were building treehouses, fighting with riding horses, or surviving being stalked by a bear or mountain lion during math class. It hasn't let up. I still struggle with keeping my mind in one lane. The Fibro has made it worse. There are days the fog is so thick that I struggle to remember my own name. Okay. Maybe not my name, but definitely my birth year.

I had tried one of the name brands of ADHD medicines years ago, and I was amazed at how well I could put not only 2 thoughts, but 3, 4, or 5 thoughts, together at one time! Alsas, I was allergic to it. It raised my blood pressure and gave me horrible headaches, so I only took it for about a week. It was such a disappointment that I couldn't take it anymore. I was able to function efficiently for the first time in my life! However, being concerned about similar reactions to other medications, I didn't try anything else for my ADHD for another 15 years. Until recently.

Lately, thoughts bounce in an out of my mind at incredible speed. I try to focus on one thing and another thought pops it right out of my mind. So I talked to my doctor about my ADHD, and they agreed that I could try something else. I did really well with it for the first 9 days or so. I was able to have coherent thoughts without having to repeat what I was saying multiple times. However, on the night of the 9th dose, I noticed my upper lip was tingling. It felt like it was waking up from a trip to the dentist. However, it was gone in the morning, so I didn't think much of it.

The next morning, I had no tingling, so I took the medication again. An hour or so after taking the med, my lip started tingling. Then my left eyebrow. Then my chin was numb. Then my right eyelid, followed by my left cheek. An hour later, I was not only still struggling with odd facial tingling and numbness, but my scalp started playing Simon on me. Remember the light up game with the colors that would light up, and you'd have to remember their sequence? It was just a random pattern that pulsed, never made any sense, and could be dizzying to watch. Well, that's what my scalp started doing. It would jump from one patch to being numb, to another patch tingling, to yet another tightening.

It lasted for 7 hours.

Needless to say, I didn't take any more of the medication. And when I was still struggling with facial numbness and tingling a week later, I made an appointment with a neurologist. He talked about how migraines and a pinched nerve could account for the numbness and tingling, and we talked about an MRI I'd had done 11 years ago. (The neurologist at the time said that I had a couple of spots on my brain, but he also specifically said I did not have MS. However, he also signed me up with the MS Society to receive all the info on MS. It concerned me that he would do it, so I called and asked his office, if it said in my records that I had MS. It did not, so I asked them to remove my name from their mailing list. It was disconcerting to get requests to join clinical trials for something I didn't have!)

I had the MRI on the 30th and went in last week to find out the results. I had the CD in my hand, and the doctor asked me, if I'd looked at it yet. I hadn't. How unlike me is it that I wouldn't even look at it? Obviously, if I had been thinking clearly, the first thing I'd have done was pop it into the computer and looked at it. I certainly wouldn't have been thinking migraines and a pinched nerve had I seen it. The MRI looked like someone had spilled popcorn all over the film. My brain is full of lesions.

I have MS.

Life Exploded Again.

I can't believe 2015 is over halfway finished, and this is my first blog post of the year. It isn't because I haven't been working on the hoard. I have. It has to do with life getting the better of me and knowing something had to go on the back burner, or I'd end up burning everything!

For the last several months, we've been working on the yard. The poor landscaper is still finding elm trees, in spite of having removed hundreds of thousands of them already. What? So what if there weren't actually hundreds of thousands of those stupid things? What if it just seemed like there were hundreds of thousands of the stupid things, because we hate them so much? I'm just so glad to be rid of every single one of them!

Our yard looks huge without the trees, and it's starting to take shape. The fence in the backyard was finally finished yesterday. They still have to paint the front fence, though. And I think we may actually be to the point where the sprinkler system, sod and stone will all be finished soon! It's going to be wonderful to spend time in our little backyard oasis, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

The last several months, Hubster has been struggling with his health. His hand began to tremor. Then his leg did. He'd stumble from time to time. He had to concentrate to walk, so he didn't appear drunk. He was exhausted all the time but couldn't sleep. And he was so weak, he said he felt at times his legs didn't have the strength to hold up the weight of his body.

We got official word yesterday that Hubster has early stage Parkinson's Disease.

Of course we are devastated, but we will handle this like we handle everything: as a team. We will meet it head-on, and we will fight it hard. He starts his first meds today, and we are praying they work well to help him feel more himself.

In the meantime, I will be trying to find time to blog again. Writing is therapeutic, and I'm thinking I may need a little therapy...

I'm Going Back to School.

Kind of.




I'm doing homework again. The other day, I started watching Hoarders all over again, starting with season 1. I realized I've been slipping into some of my old hoarding behaviors, and I just don't want to go backwards. I think the habits may be surfacing due to stress, but I'm not entirely sure. I know that my dehoarding has definitely slowed over the last few years, but the last few years have been very stressful, too. And while the dehoarding had slowed down, I wasn't actively hoarding anything. I just wasn't getting rid of things like I had been there for awhile.


But last week things changed.

I'd gotten the last yogurt out of the case, and as I was tearing the box up to fit it in the trash I noticed that there were Box Tops for Education on the carton. I know I've got a gallon bag of them floating around the house somewhere, and I know that they could bring in a few dollars for a local school, so I figured I'd start saving them again. So I tore them off the carton and figured I'd just go back and trim them down with scissors, so they'd be neat. That old perfectionism thing rearing it's ugly head once again. 

But when I'd torn the one off the carton, I'd torn the corner of the BTFE off. If I was going to trim them to be neat, I'd also need to tape that one back together. So I just tossed them on the counter with the thought of getting the scissors and going back to them right away. But then the phone rang, or I had to help one of the girls or something else took my attention, and I forgot about getting the scissors. I'd remember the scissors every time I went in the kitchen, but I'd never actually get the scissors. So they just sat there. For a week. And in that week, I noticed every other BTFE on every other item we buy that carries them. And I found myself searching them out with my eyes, so I would remember which products had them, so I wouldn't forget to cut them off and save them.  

And I found myself getting stressed over it, because I noticed some of them had expiration dates on them. And what would I do, if I spent time to save them up and then dropped the ball by letting them expire. And was it worth it in the long run? Yeah. I think they're probably worth it for someone who doesn't have a hoarding problem, but I realized it wasn't worth it for me. Heck. After this year, we won't even have anyone in school anymore. So after a full week of it sitting on the counter calling me names, and calling my name, and making me feel guilty for not getting the scissors and tape, I gave myself permission to throw the Box Tops For Education in the trash. I gave myself permission to not be responsible for saving the local school through little coupons on boxes. 

Twas small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

But while I was basking in the glow of snatching that small victory from the jaws of defeat, I was snapped out of a fog that I hadn't even realized had descended upon me. I noticed a light bulb I'd set aside last week when I changed the one that had burned out. I'd seen a couple of cute little crafts using old light bulbs that I thought would be fun to do when I ran across them, and I'd set the bulb aside. You know. For when I could get to it in my spare time. I mean, I could make all sorts of adorable Christmas ornaments out of them, but the one I really thought was inventive was where you take the filament out of the bulb and turn it into a vase. Cute!

And then I realized I didn't have just one light bulb set aside. I had 3 of them that had burned out at roughly the same time. Except one was on my kitchen counter, and was on the big television armoire we'd turned into a pantry a few months ago. And all of the sudden, I saw really sharp shards of glass cutting Hopper and Scooter, and I decided that light bulb crafts are not in my near future. They take up too much space to save at this time, so they're gone. If Bugster wants them for crafting, she can have them and can pick them up this weekend. If she doesn't, they will go in the trash. 

And then, out of the blue, I remembered the laundry basket of unmated socks that was still sitting downstairs waiting for me. It's been waiting for me for 3 years. That's long enough. So I tossed my hoarding issues aside and went through the basket. I found about a dozen pair of socks, saved a few socks that we'd purchased relatively recently that I knew the other half of the pair was around somewhere, and then I threw the rest in the garbage.  I think there had to have been between 150 and 200 single socks in there. I didn't take the time to count. 

There were 2 socks - 1pink, 1 light green - that still felt new, and soft, and unworn, but I didn't remember when we'd gotten them. There were actually 3 different colors, but I'd found one full pair of blue ones, and for some reason, I didn't keep the 2 singles. I tossed them out with the others. And wouldn't you know it, but a few hours later, I came across the other pink sock under a piece of furniture in Scooter's room. 

Crap.

I knew I could go out to the garbage and retrieve the mate and nobody else would ever even know. Besides, I knew it was the last thing I'd put in the bag, so the sock would be right on top. And just like the Christmas tree tin that called my name from the trash that cold winter night over 4  years ago, the little pink sock was trying to get my attention. From outside. In the trash can. 

:::sigh:::

I've been fighting the urge to dig the little pink sock out of the trash and reunite it with its mate for the better part of the day. It was so unfamiliar to once again feel those physical symptoms I felt that night 4 years ago when I threw that tin away. And then I remembered that it was just a crew sock. And Scooter doesn't like that length of sock nearly as much as she likes knee socks. And she has plenty of socks in both lengths. And I realized that we can always buy another pair, if she needs some. I mean it's not like it would bankrupt us.

Besides. I need to do the homework. It's worth the cost of a pair of socks or two, and it's way cheaper than therapy. I just don't want to slide backwards down that slippery slope I so carefully climbed a few years ago. 

Granted, I still have a long way to go before our home is completely dehoarded, but I'll get there one day. 

I just have to do my homework.

Happy! Happy! Happy!

Buster thinks she's coming down with an ear infection, so she stopped by this morning and asked me to look in her ear with our otoscope. There's definitely something going on in there, so she'll be going to the doctor to have them check it out. She hung around for awhile afterwards, so we could catch up on the latest with work and the rest. 

I always love when she stops by and we get to see her unexpectedly. It just brings sunshine to my day. And while we were visiting, the day just got brighter and brighter...

Hopper and Scooter has stayed the night at Bugster & Bubster's house a couple weekends ago when we went on a date. They'd taken their clothes and strings and such over in duffel bags, because they were quicker than getting out the little overnight case that's stored under the stairs and takes a bit to get to.

I'd unpacked Scooter's duffel bag earlier and had put it away, but I hadn't gotten around to Hopper's. We've been busy since our overnight date installing exterior doors and other such adventures, so I'm behind on things around the house again. So I just hadn't gotten around to unpacking it. That's all.

And sometimes this morning, Hopper decided to use it to carry her strings and boots around. The girls are funny that way. They love to pack and unpack bags, purses or even grocery sacks. So the duffel bag was just an extension of that. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And while I had done a quick inspection of her duffel bag when I was looking for Scooter's shirt, I hadn't torn it apart. What I'd seen when I looked in was the same thing that I'd seen when she brought it home from her weekend at Bugster's. But while Bugster and I were talking, Hopper pulled something out of her bag...               

It was red.

I saw a flash of black and white, and I just held my breath while Hopper worked at turning it right side out. 

It was the butterfly shirt!!!! 

Scooter was sitting there and was just beaming! She was definitely excited that it was still here! She decided to put it on, so Bugster could see it, and so she could go show her daddy, and all this was with a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon on her face! Heck! We all had smiles that wide! We are so very happy! So very, very relieved!  

We're so relieved that she didn't throw it away, even though she pointed to the picture of the garbage can. Then again, I hadn't drawn a picture of a duffel bag, and she may have pointed to that picture, because she'd put it 'in' something. It's a frustrating thing that we all deal with with her inability to communicate. I'm just so very thankful it worked out in her favor! 

I feel like I've got Snoopy in my head doing the Happy Dance right now! 

Yay!!!   

I wonder how much overwhelmed weighs.

So I've been busy not being busy. Well. Sort of. I've been busy selling some stuff on eBay for a little lady who just lost her house to foreclosure. She needs the money, and frankly, so do I, and I am not doing this for free. Still, it's taken quite a bit of my time, and I've found I've neglected other things that I really should be working on. 

It wouldn't be so difficult, if I hadn't had to relearn how to sell on eBay. I've been away for long enough that almost everything had changed. I'm tempted to open up an eBay store, because I could list up to 2500 items per month for free, where now I can only list 50 for free. It costs about $15 a month for the store, but where listing fees start at 30 cents a pop after the first 50 being free, it would only take 50 listings to get my money back. It makes sense financially, and if I could just get them all listed at the same time, instead of having to wait for days where they have offers for free listings, it could save me a lot of time. I'll probably kick it around for a couple more days and then end up opening a store. :::shrug::: It will either happen, or it won't.

I've been dealing with back spasms in my lower back the last couple of weeks, so that's been fun. Even though it's been on the verge of spasming again today, I threw caution to the wind and worked outside a bit. I need a lot of bits to get anything accomplished, though. The front yard is a disaster after having it dug up for the sewer line replacement back in February. The backyard is a disaster full of downed trees that need cut, split, and stacked, so we can sell it this fall to someone who has a fireplace. Either that, or we need to just get someone back there who will do it for the free firewood.  Then the garden dreams I dream each night have to find their way into the plans, too. 

I'm trying not to get too overwhelmed. We have a ton to do, but we've also gotten a ton done. Let me rephrase that...we have at least a couple dozen tons to do, but we've gotten a ton done. I just have to remember that the ton we've already finished was finished one pound at a time. 

Off to go do a few ounces worth of work and trying not to calculate how many ounces there are in a ton. 

Got Milk? I Wish!

You know what they say...."When God closes a door, He opens a window."? Let me just say that God is amazing!

The 3 weeks since Hubster was laid off have been...well...good. 

Hubster applied for a job the Monday after he was laid off and got the job. It was quite the pay cut compared to what he was making before, since he has to start over from scratch, but we'll manage. We're just very thankful that he already has a job and that he's working for someone who values him and his work ethic. In fact, the new boss has been trying to get him to come to work for him for years, so it's a really good fit.

It's also a lot less stressful a work environment than what he's been dealing with for the last 13 years. As a result, it's the least stressed I've seen my husband in years. The result of him being less stressed out translates into the girls being less stressed, and an extension of that is that I'm less stressed, too. It's as though a huge boulder has been lifted from our shoulders.

There's been other stressful stuff happening around the homestead that I can't talk about on my blog. It doesn't involve anything with any of us, but it has affected our lives. Thankfully, it's mostly resolved. Only time will tell how it ends in the long run, but we're hopeful that justice will be served.

I had to start on a second antibiotic for the strep, since the first one didn't take care of it like it should have. I am finally starting to regain my health, but I really wish I hadn't had to take this other antibiotic. It makes me hurt from head to toe. I found out that dairy can apparently exacerbate the reaction. This must be a new warning. I'd never seen it before this prescription, and in fact, I have always taken it with a full glass of milk. :::insert eye roll here:::

Needless to say, I've stayed completely away from dairy. It's helped a lot. My arms haven't ached from my elbows to my fingertips this time, and my ankles have kept me up at night. However, this time my hips have really bothered me. And I've really, really, really missed milk. And cheese. And the occasional cup of ice cream. 

I'm going to stay off dairy for a bit longer just to make sure the antibiotic has time to pass through my system a bit more before starting it up again. I don't want the hurt locker to become my home. 

So that's about it for an update. I'm hoping to get back into some sort of schedule of blogging, dehoarding, walking more regularly soon. I've been totally thrown off track with all that's been going on, but it's a process, and I will get there. 

I'm off to bed to dream of the Land of Milk and Cheese. 

Have a glass for me!

It's a jungle out there.

I am a little surprised that I feel the way I do tonight. Maybe it's a bit of emotional and physical fatigue. I just thought that finally getting through the guardianship process would have had a bigger impact on my state of well-being. 

We met with the judge on Tuesday and finalized guardianship. It is such a huge relief to have it all done, but I also can't help but wonder, if the relief is why I'm so exhausted. I'm. just. Tired. Really, really tired. 

The judge was very sweet. The whole process took about an hour. We will get the official documents in the mail next week sometime. Once we get it, we'll have to get copies to the doctors' offices, day programs, school, etc., and keep a copy on hand to bring to the hospitals, should the girls ever need to be treated there again. 

The day itself was a bit stressful, though. Hopper started getting anxious when we kept having to drive around the block to find a parking spot close enough for Scooter, since walking long distances is a bit rough for her. We were hoping she'd settle down once we found a place to park, but no such luck. It only got worse.

I'm assuming all courthouses have security similar to the one here in town, but I don't know for sure, and you know what they say about assuming. It wasn't as rough having the TSA  get us through security, but I think Hopper thought it might end up in a strip search. 

OK. I'm exaggerating a little. She doesn't even know that happens, and I'm SO thankful she doesn't! She'd have really freaked out!!

The way it was, we had to empty our pockets and put the contents in a bin that went on a conveyor belt and through an x-ray machine. She did fine with that part, but when the metal detector beeped because of the underwire in her bra, she sort of flipped out. She was afraid to go back through it again and started getting worked up, sporadically yelling, "no!"

The water works started and the "NO!!'s" got a lot louder when the uniformed policeman had to use the wand to make sure she wasn't carrying any weapons. She was having a huge panic attack, and he was very sympathetic, but he was struggling with getting her to stand still long enough to pass the wand down her back and then her front. After multiple attempts, he was finally satisfied that she was not a threat and continued on with checking the rest of us. 

The only thing we can think of is that poor Hopper thought that once he was done he was going to frisk her. And we all know what comes after the frisking...

handcuffs! I wish we'd have though of explaining that part of it before we went in, but both Hubster and I were nervous enough about the whole thing that we didn't even think of it. 

I've been absolutely exhausted since Tuesday. I think it's just relief that this enormous monkey is off our backs at this point. 

I think the headache I have is from him holding tightly to my hair as he jumped off into the jungle.

Stupid monkey.

 

Putting things in perspective.

Most of the time, I'm not the only one on my mind. It may come across from time to time that I'm really self-centered, but I'd like to think that isn't the case. I just sometimes get caught up in what's going on in my own little world to the exclusion of anyone else's. Typically, it's nothing but survival and usually comes about as a result of overwhelming stress.

The other day I was completely snapped out of my reality and realized that my stress is nothing compared to others'. I fully understand that what someone else is going through does not negate the stress I am feeling, and that I shouldn't ignore that I have struggles of my own. But it does help me to not focus on my own stresses and build them up in my mind any larger than they should be...

I've known Ella for the last 10 years or so. She's a beautiful young lady with a heart for God. I've seen her grow from a precious child to a capable woman in what seems like a blink of an eye. She and Jacob, a young man on his first enlistment in the United States Marine Corps, married in December. Shortly thereafter, Jacob deployed to Afghanistan. 

She got the call a couple of days ago that Jacob was severely injured in combat. She was told that he had broken his hip, had a compound fracture in his wrist, and that he lost one leg at the knee. Horrible injuries, no doubt. But today she got more of the story...

Her husband not only has a broken hip and a compound fracture to his wrist, but it appears he has lost both legs and is much more severely injured than she was first told. He's on a ventilator and is, according to Ella's brother, "pretty much injured all over his body". 

Jacob is at a hospital in Germany. Alone. No family over there to help him through this. My prayer is that we can find Ella a way to go to Jacob and be with him. To pray with him. To support him. To love him. To hold his hand. To bring him home. 

This has definitely put my problems in perspective.

They ain't nothin' but a thing.

I'm not giving up. Just having a rough day.

I'm tired and a bit frustrated. It seems as though my pants are super glued to the seat of the chair since we've been home. Not all the time, but enough of the time that it's hard getting anything substantial done, and Lord only knows I've got substantial amounts of things to do!


I haven't gotten nothing done. I just haven't gotten enough done to be satisfied with myself. 


Maybe tomorrow?


It definitely depends on how my breathing is. The altitude has taken longer to get used to than I expected. I'm sure the fires are part of it. We've had smoke down here, in spite of the fact that we're quite a ways away from the fires. It just sort of lingers in the air. I'm staying inside as much as I can to limit my exposure, but I really need to get some shopping done, and I'm concerned about going out with the way I'm feeling.


Oh...and get this...


One of the fires that's affecting us is the Springer Fire. It's near Lake George, CO. And some idiot has decided that now is a good time to light some arson fires in Divide, which is just a few miles down the road from Lake George. In fact, there were 7 such fires put out today alone. It seems as though the entire state of Colorado is burning right now, and some idiot thinks he'll add to the drama? I hope when they catch him they'll... Let's just say I hope they catch him and stop him before he ends up killing anyone with his twisted game. 


What is with people these days?!?!?!


I have a headache even trying to figure it all out. Guess I'll try to go sleep it off and hope for a better day tomorrow.

I wish I'd learn to listen to myself.

Over the years I've really struggled with drinking caffeinated pop. A lot. Daily. As in a 2-liter bottle every single day. A few years ago, I stopped drinking it, and I stayed away from it for 3.5 years. Then I started drinking it again, because the caffeine helped with my asthma. I eventually stopped again, because the caffeine was bothering the neuropathy associated with the fibromyalgia. It felt like I was being used as a pin cushion from the inside out, and it just wasn't worth the pain. 


I'd been off it for right at a year again when Hopper broke her leg last summer and ended up in the hospital for 10 days following surgery. I felt like I couldn't keep up with the physical demands of going back and forth from home to the hospital every day, because I was ready to drop from exhaustion. It at least gave me the energy to make it through each day. 


But then life sort of exploded, and I figured I'd just stop drinking the 2 to 4 cans of soda I was drinking each day when things settled down. Except that they didn't really settle down. In fact, they got worse, and I started struggling with anxiety like I've never experienced before.


I started anxiety meds several months ago, and although they're helping me, I'm needing another dosage increase. It's getting rather frustrating. I don't know, if the caffeine is adding to the anxiety or not, but I'm giving it up again, anyway. 


I'm on day 3 of withdrawal. 


Again. 


For the umpteenthed, and hopefully final, time in my life.

It's all downhill from here.

I don't know, if it's hormones, (I am approaching *that* age), Bugster turning 25, or everything that's going on with Mom and living so far away, or all of the above, but I'm a mess. The last couple of days, I can't seem to keep from crying, and I rarely, if ever, cry. I'm the queen of emotion stuffing, remember? 


It's driving me nuts. 


It's time like this I fall into ruminating about all sorts of stuff. The thoughts range anywhere from past slights from people who proved they weren't the friends I thought they were to how I feel unloved. I really struggle with turning off the negative thoughts, and I'm exhausted from it all. Most days, I never give those people who have hurt me a second thought. And even when I am feeling unloved, I know in my heart that it's not true. I have absolutely no doubt that I am loved deeply by my family and many friends. But it's really hard to get that through my thick skull when I'm in the middle of an episode.


I get that my feelings are valid. I know I'm entitled to feel negatively about certain people either in my current or past life. But I can't handle it when the thoughts, the churning in my gut, and the tears don't stop. I hate living like this, because it's not really living.


Hoping the anxiety meds kicking in a bit and hearing how much better Mom is doing has helped a bit. It's just that when it all starts, it's like I'm trying to race down hill to catch a ball in front of me to try to get it to stop. It takes awhile to catch up to it and get it under control, and by then I'm out of breath.


Trying to catch my breath now.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This? Hardly!

I feel like I can finally breathe. Mom is no longer in the hospital, and is finally doing better tonight. Praying that she will continue to heal and will be back on her feet soon.

My OCD got the best of me yesterday. I was working in the laundry room. I'd started at the door and was working my way around the room with the cleaning, organizing and purging. I'd made it to the dryer about 2/3 of the way down the opposite wall when I realized how horribly dusty it was and decided to do something about it.

We have always been diligent about cleaning out the lint filter, but it seemed like we always struggled with dust collecting behind, under, and around the dryer. In years past, it has had to do with the vent going from behind the dryer to the outside. It seemed like we could never get the thing tight enough to keep the lint inside the vent. It leaked out at every seam. I finally fixed it with a couple of large hose clamps and quite a bit of duct tape. It was such a relief!

But even though it cut down on the amount of dust in the laundry room, it never completely took care of it. So when I came to the dryer yesterday as I was cleaning the laundry room, I tried to take the dryer apart. Turns out it's not as easy as it sounds. I could undo the front panel, and that allowed me to get to the more accessible dust and lint, but I couldn't get to the rest. I tried taking the back off the dryer, but it's sealed in some way to prevent access. 

So I went back around to the front of the dryer and took a look at what might be a bit easier to get to. I saw there was quite a bit of dust around a black case. I took it apart and realized it was the case that covered the lint filter. I was in shock at the amount of dust and lint in it, considering I poke the upholstery attachment on the vacuum cleaner down in there several times a year. The lint was not only several inches deep, but it was also hard as a rock. It had definitely been accumulating for years. 

It was the stuff of nightmares! I have no idea how the thing didn't catch fire. There but for the Grace of God and all...

I took the cover off the fan, so I could clean the blades and try to vacuum up the dust, too. It's amazing that clean clothes thrown in a dryer to dry produces lint that eventually turns into what looks like dirt. Maybe more like a silt. Just dirty and gross. From looking at what I found in the dryer, a person would think that we only dried nasty, dirty clothes year after year. 

Unfortunately, I didn't get the dryer put back together just yet. I'll be doing that tomorrow. We had errands to run today, and we forgot to pick up a coil brush that is used to clean the dust off the coils under a refrigerator. We have one somewhere, but I can't seem to find it. When I do, I'll give it to Bugster, so she has one to clean under her refrigerator, and I won't have 2 floating around here. I'm hoping to get the laundry room finished up completely tomorrow. 

Once it's done, I don't think I'll need to do anything but minor dusting from time to time in the laundry room. I'll eventually go through the holiday decorations and pare them down, but I'm totally okay with leaving the rest of the room as is. 

Now, to just get it done...

Pass the ice melter stuff, please.

I have so much on my mind. I'm trying hard not to let it paralyze me into not getting things done. So far, I've been moderately successful. I've been working in the laundry room, but it's been taking longer than I anticipated. It all goes back to that not being able to gauge how long things will take me to finish, but I really *am* going to try to get it finished up tomorrow.


I keep forgetting about taxes and other must-do paperwork, so I'll have to get busy on that in the next few days, too. Paperwork that takes up valuable space in my head. Space that is at a premium. And I need to get it done, so I can think straight once again. 


Each time I think of the paperwork, the laundry room, or Mom and what's going on with her health, my stomach starts churning. It's been so bad the last couple of days it feels like my gut is a figurative snowbank, and there's a tire spinning without getting the least bit of traction, because the car is stuck in said snowdrift. 


I'm think I'm ready for Spring!

How do I know, if I'm a hoarder? Pt 6 - What do you think?

So far, I've covered several things that I have in common with those with hoarding issues. The last two things that come to mind are obsessive negative thoughts and trouble communicating.


I don't ever remember a time in my life that I haven't struggled with negativity. It often consumes my thoughts for days at a time. I can  just be minding my own business and boom! Something creeps in and takes my thoughts captive. 


I never know when it will strike, what will set it off, how long it will last, or what the topic will be. I just know it's incredibly discouraging. Most often, the thoughts I can't get out of my mind have to do with someone hurting someone I love. Like when I was preoccupied for several days with  the way my in-laws had treated our family. 


It's absolutely exhausting to relive the hurt over and over again. I'd rather just forget it, put it in the past, and leave it there never to be thought of again. But the thoughts aren't always about someone hurting me or my family. Sometimes, it's worry about things that I have done wrong. And believe me. I've got plenty of fodder for the thoughts that dance in my head.


When I was very young, (maybe 8?), I remember hearing someone in church saying that humans are in a constant state of sin. I took it very literally, and I couldn't sleep, eat or breathe for days after I heard that. I thought it meant that every single breath I took, every bite of food I ate, every thought I had, everything I did was a sin. I specifically remember breathing in and thinking, "Oh my goodness! I just sinned!" Breathing out and thinking, "Oh no! I did it again!" And I remember feeling very, very guilty.


The thoughts eventually stopped, but I'm not sure exactly how it happened. I don't know, if I asked Mom, if I was understanding it correctly, or if I mentioned it to one of my older brothers and sisters, and they explained it to me or what. I do remember feeling relieved when I was no longer struggling with the negative thoughts. They would, however, still come rushing back when I would get in trouble for doing something naughty. 


And just to be perfectly clear, my parents had nothing to do with the negative self talk. I firmly believe it's something I was born with. Something in my personality. I don't blame anyone for it. Not even myself. At least I don't blame myself when I'm actually thinking clearly. I still fall victim to my pointing fingers when I'm in the middle of a mind assault, but I believe it is how my brain is wired. It just is who I am, and I need to learn to deal with it, so it's not a debilitating thing.


I've also struggled my entire life with communicating my thoughts. I've written before about how I've struggled with talking too much. I've been told more often than I can count to 'get to the point' or to hurry up and say what I had to say. I always feel so belittled when it happens, but I can't find the words at the moment to say, "That hurts my feelings, and I feel belittled. Please let me finish my thought." 


And there are certain topics that get me riled to the point I feel like I can't put two words together and make any sense. I have definite thoughts or feelings about the subject, but it's like they get stuck in my head and can't make their way out of my mouth . If I go ahead and try to address the issue right then and there, I come across as being in attack mode, because I can't get the right words out. My frustration level increases, my voice raises, and I go right into a fight or flight response. I am rendered completely ineffective to defend my thoughts, and my anxiety level increases dramatically.

It's maddening. 


I've come to the conclusion that these will be lifelong struggles for me, but I also am hopeful that I will learn strategies for circumventing both situations before they get out of control. 


I am more than my struggles.

How do I know, if I'm a hoarder? Pt 3 - Perfectionism

I'm a perfectionist. You may not know it by looking at my home, but I am. In fact, I've been working on this post for 4 days now trying to get my thoughts into words. Trying to make it perfect.

Once again, I think I'm trying too hard.

Growing up, we were taught to do the best we could at anything we attempted. To give it our all. If you do your best, you can take pride in your work. You can be proud knowing you gave it your all, and your effort will be rewarded. 


You know the old adage... If you can't do something right, don't do it at all. 

When I was a kid, I thought that meant I had to be perfect. And when I wasn't perfect, when I didn't get something right, it meant that I was wrong. And I equated 'wrong' with 'naughty'. With failure.


My parents wanted me to apply myself, and rightfully so. Kids should apply themselves. Thankfully, my parents were not stage parents who pushed and pushed wanting me to be perfect. I was the one who wanted to be perfect, and I made things so much harder on myself as a result.


Even though I got good grades in school, I would be so disappointed when the grade on my paper was less than an A-. When I would get a B+, I always chided myself for, if I had only applied myself a smidgen more, I could have gotten an A. Disappointment doesn't describe what I felt, if I got a C on a paper. I was traumatized. Report cards were even harder to handle, because I could never quite get straight A's. I'd get all A's and 1 B one quarter and the next I'd have brought the B up to an A while in a different class my grade slipped to a B. It was maddening and disheartening.


School wasn't the only area where I had perfectionism issues. I didn't like art, because I couldn't seem to draw or paint anything that resembled what it was supposed to. As much as I loved to sing, I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with the lid duct taped on tight, if my life depended on it. So I didn't sing where anyone could hear me.


Shortly before Bugster was born, we bought my sewing machine. I loved it, but I was so afraid of making a mistake and having my project not look good that it took me months to sew the only baby outfit I ever made. I made plenty of baby blankets and curtains and the diaper bag and bumper pads, but they were fairly easy things to sew. They were straight lines for the most part. Plus they stayed in the nursery. If I messed up on a baby outfit, people would see it when she wore the clothes. People would be able to see my mistakes, so I just never made clothes.


The list goes on and on. 


It carried over into my life as a mother. I needed to be a perfect mother. It felt so personal when one of the babies cried. I just knew that it was, because they didn't love me, because I wasn't a good mother. I would be so embarrassed, if one of them spit up on their new clothes. I mean, if I was a good mom, they wouldn't get their clothes dirty, because I would have kept them from getting sick.


By the time life became so overwhelming with hospitalizations and the different medical needs the girls had, I was exhausted. Not only couldn't I get ahead on the laundry and housekeeping, I couldn't keep up on the daily stuff. It didn't matter that what I was going through as a mom was not typical, and that the only way for anyone to really keep up with what I had going on was to have extra help. I felt very, very imperfect.


In the meantime, I still had to make sure the clothes were all folded and put away without wrinkles. (Wrinkled clothes have always made me feel like a failure). The towels and sheets had to be folded exactly the same way each and every time. The dishwasher needed to be loaded, but it didn't get the dishes clean, so I had to pre-wash all the dishes before they went in the machine. 


When I started getting so overwhelmed I couldn't keep up I stopped trying. I started living the, 'If you can't do something right, don't do it at all' to the fullest, because I didn't know how to do it any other way. As a result, all sorts of stuff piled up. Papers didn't get filed. Clothes didn't get sorted out of the main laundry when the girls outgrew them. Forget about getting the clothes sorted. I couldn't even keep up with keeping them clean. Dishes didn't get done in a timely manner, if I didn't have time to wash them all before the dishwasher was run.


I couldn't do it. I was a bundle of nerves, and depressed enough that I struggled with daily life.


And once again, I was a failure.

Stop the ride. I want to get off.

I've been trying to get a post done for the last couple of days, but I'm struggling with my concentration. I just keep getting distracted. It's so frustrating. So instead of trying to force myself to think in a way that I can't right now, I thought I'd go in a different direction.

We got the reports from the court visitor in the mail yesterday. They are the ones she filed with the courts. She did a good job of representing the girls and made it very clear she felt like we should be awarded guardianship. It helped take the pressure off a bit. It feels like we can breathe a little better now.


We expect the attorney will be calling in the next week or two with a court date. We feel fairly ready. Hopper and Scooter did so well when the court visitor came out that we're hoping they'll do as well when we visit the judge. 


In spite of feeling confident that everything is going to go smoothly for the guardianship, my stomach still flips when I think about it. Once again, I am very thankful for anxiety meds. 


I just hope the anxiety takes a leave once all the legal stuff is finished. 


My stomach is ready to get off the merry-go-round.

How do I know, if I'm a hoarder? Pt 2 - Feeling responsible for everything.

While watching the hoarding shows, I recognized a familiar stress in the participants of the show when they were challenged to get rid of certain items. Sometimes, they were little things like empty cans or jars that could be recycled. Other times, it may have been something that belonged to a loved one who was no longer alive.


The person being asked to make a decision would often look like a deer caught in the headlights. You could see the fight or flight response kick into high gear. They were scared. There is no doubt that they wanted to just run and hide. 


I get it. I've been there. I've felt that very thing when I've tried to make decisions about getting rid of stuff over the years. Instead of making a decision, I would just decide to make a decision later. It wasn't logical that I had such battles with myself to get rid of some of these things, but struggle I did.


For example, I really wrestled with getting rid of ketchup packets. I mean, really. Ketchup packets? It made no logical sense, but I was afraid of wasting them. I mean, it's not like the world would come to an end, if I threw them in the trash, but they were good food. Surely someone could use them, but I didn't know who, and I didn't want them taking up space in the refrigerator anymore, but I didn't know what to do with them. As silly as it sounds, I felt a responsibility to be a good steward of the condiments, and I was was terrified of making the wrong decision. 


So I just didn't decide.


I didn't decide which of the girls' clothes to get rid of. I didn't decide which toys needed to go. I didn't decide which clothes I no longer needed. I didn't decide which mugs I loved and really wanted to keep.


I kept everything, so that I didn't make the wrong decision. 



I remember feeling a panic in my gut when I would see someone throw a newspaper or pop can in the trash instead of putting them aside to be recycled. After all, it was irresponsible to just throw things away that had any use left in them. It was my job to save stuff like that from the landfills. I would get it to it's proper place. It was my responsibility. 


Except that it wasn't.


I was miserable. I felt absolutely overwhelmed by stuff. I was carrying the weight of every single pair of pants, every shirt, every toy, every baby blanket, every newspaper, every pop can and every ketchup packet on my shoulders. 


I felt mentally paralyzed. 


How was I ever going to have the time to find the right home for each piece of clothing that the girls had outgrown? How would I ever find the mates to all of the socks? I couldn't just give a half a pair of socks away. They'd just be tossed in the trash. People need 2 socks. They have 2 feet. I needed to find all of them, so I could match them up and find them the proper homes.


What about the toys and puzzles? I knew that the pieces were all there for each one, but I also knew that some of the pieces were in the garage, some were in their bedroom, and some were downstairs. How was I ever going to reunite the pieces, so the toys would be complete? No child was going to want an incomplete toy, but we spent hard earned money on them, and it would be a total waste to just throw them in the trash. Right?


The more I fought to figure it all out, the more paralyzed I felt. 


I knew others could see that same fear in my eyes that I saw in those who appeared on the shows. 

I feel like I'm in a Carol Burnett sketch.

Remember in the sketches on the Carol Burnett Show how Carol's eye would twitch and twitch and twitch when she was stressed out? Yeah. That could be me. My right eyelid has been twitching for over  a week now, but it hasn't been nearly as funny as the sketches on her show.

Hopper was marginally better today, but it was a pretty narrow margin. The antibiotics haven't really had time to make much of a difference just yet, and she still melted again today. 

I was able to squeeze a few loads of laundry in, but I'm hoping to get a bit more done tomorrow. I've got several things I am wanting to write about on my blog, too, but I can't seem to concentrate enough to put more than 2 words together. 

Tomorrow then. 

Twitchingly yours,

Me

Tomorrow is another day.

Sure enough. It's a sinus infection. Antibiotics started tonight. Hope they kick in quickly, so Hopper is back to her meltdown-free self, soon. 


Very long, very stressful day again today, and now I can't keep my eyes open. I'm sure the anxiety meds I took are playing a role, but the first time in 2 days I feel like I'm finally starting to relax. 


Hoping tomorrow is a better day.