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.

I'm so tired. So tired, exhausted and drained.

...but hopeful.

I'm just tired, but relentless forward progress and all.

We have a small storage container in the front yard right now. The first order of business when it was delivered last week was to bring all the boxes of Christmas decorations upstairs and put them in the back of the container. They're normally stored in the utility room downstairs, but the builders need them out of there in order to access water, gas, and sewer lines for the addition, so they had to go. The good thing is that it's the last time that we'll have to bring them up from downstairs, because they'll be stored in the new storage room in the addition. Do you have any idea how incredible it will be not to have to lug those massive totes up every year?!!

The garage is empty except for the spare fridge, which we will keep in there until it goes on its merry way. We haven't decided yet, if we're going to put it in the new storage room, or if I'll sell it, but it and cases of water are the only thing we have left in the garage. It feels weird to go out there and have there be so much space. I was in such a hurry to get started on clearing it out that I forgot to take before pictures of everything, but I am okay with that. I may still have a before picture that I took years ago of the garage, but I'm not going to worry about whether I do or not.

I was thinking I needed to get before pictures of the kitchen and dining room before I started packing things up, but I decided not to worry about it. I didn't want to take pictures of it being messy, because these pictures were not so much a before picture having to do with hoarding but one that had to do with the renovation and how much things will have changed once the work is complete. I know I have pictures somewhere of most of the things in the kitchen, so I'm just not going to worry about it.

I was finding myself literally frozen trying to make decisions about what to clean first, what to take pictures of first, and the order in which to pack things. My fibromyalgia has been acting its fool self off, and I am struggling to think clearly. I fought through the Fibro Fog and made a difficult decision. I realized that the whole thought of trying to clean the table off, dust the nic nacs, and scrubbing the floor for pictures was just too much for me. Not being able to make a decision has been frustrating to say the least, so finally making a decision, albeit not the decision I was expecting to make is freeing.

Sometimes relentless forward progress isn't about getting rid of anything but a mindset, and I'm okay with that.

*I originally wrote this the end of March and forgot to actually post it. Lots of dehoarding has happened since then. Relentless forward progress and all...

::::yawn:::::

I'm exhausted, but I'm feeling very hopeful. I've had more of that relentless forward progress happening since I last blogged.

Are you ready for this?

The garage and the back porch are.....empty.

Ok. Maybe not entirely, but enough that the builder was 'flabbergasted' that I had gotten as far as I have with it. So now we're finally in the planning stage!!

There are still a couple of things in the garage. The big plywood fireplace that we bring into the house every year to hang stockings on at Christmas is out there, the spare refrigerator that we keep water and eggs from the backyard chickens is in there, and there's a bedroom set that we've got to get into Scooter's bedroom. The grill is still on the porch, as is the porch swing and a table. I'll be selling the table, but we're keeping the swing and the grill, so they'll just need to be moved out of the way when the time comes. Oh. yeah. There's also a barrel on the porch that has camp chairs in it. I'm not sure where I'll be storing those until we use them, but they have to be washed at the car wash before I put them away until we use them again.

Considering that the porch was completely covered and the garage was full top to bottom, side to side, and end to end, I'm feeling pretty good about it. I've sold several things and made a few hundred dollars. Hubster took the bath surround we'd bought a few years ago back to the big box store. Thankfully, it was still in stock, so he was able to return it. We now have a credit to be used toward the renovations we'll be doing, so that will be handy.

I can't even imagine how many hundreds, (thousands?) of pounds of stuff has been thrown away! There's been some stuff donated, as well, but for the most part the stuff has gone to the trash. I've kept some stuff to look through later, because I just couldn't think clearly enough to make any more decisions about it at the time. I think that what I actually kept was only between 10-15% of the total that was out there. That total will go down, as I have the time to sort through it all when I'm thinking more clearly.

I'm having problems deciding whether or not to keep the stuff we'd gotten to redo the bathroom years ago, or if I should sell it and go a different route. The toilet and sink are a matched set, and I love the look of them, but the toilet is just a typical height. We're so used to the taller toilets that I don't know, if we should keep that one...I'm wondering, if it would be a fall risk for Hubster, since it's shorter. We're also wondering, if it would be better to have a small vanity in there instead of the pedestal sink that matches the toilet. We'd be able to put a reverse osmosis machine in a cabinet, which would allow access to purified water without having to go upstairs. Granted, we wouldn't have any storage, but we've gone all these years without it that I don't know, if it would matter, anyway. I could always hang some cute baskets on the walls for storage, so there are options.

Decisions must be made, but the fibro fog is thick, and it is so hard to think clearly.

I think I need sleep.

Good Decisions and All.

For years the back porch has been filled to overflowing. In fact, there have been varying degrees of full since we bought the house 18 years ago. It has seen many things come and go over the years, but it's always been pretty packed . At one point we actually tried to tarp it off, so the things on it wouldn't be ruined by the weather, and so it wasn't as much of an eyesore for the neighbors, but the wind and the sun destroyed the tarps, and we had a mess. 

A few years ago when we started working on cleaning up the backyard, we actually had the entire porch cleaned off. Ok. Maybe not completely, but it was close. We still had a stack of chairs, and a big metal footlocker that Hubster had used in his work truck for years, but for the most part it was clean. Unfortunately, it didn't stay that way. It didn't take long for it to be filled with overflow when we tried to clean out the garage. (I did, however, get rid of the stack of chairs several months ago, and the footlocker went a few weeks ago. Yay me!)

I'd hired a neighbor kid to help me with it, but it was more than he could handle. Heck, I couldn't even handle things. Frank has helped me with it here and there, but he really isn't into working much, so it's been very hit and miss. Awhile back, I asked Atticus, if he was interested in earning some money and helping me to dehoard. He's between jobs, so it was a good fit. He also grew up with hoarding parents, so he's familiar with the mindset, and he's been a huge encouragement without pushing me to make decisions I'm not quite ready to  make. As a result, we've made huge progress! 

We finished cleaning the back porch off completely a few weeks ago. It's since been somewhat filled with other things, but it's because we're using it as a staging area. In one area, I've got the things I'm selling, in another there are things I'm keeping, and in another area I keep the stuff that's being donated. It's been nice, because as I go through things in the garage, Atticus can take them to the appropriate place on the porch, and I can deal with it further from there. 

I've sold a few things and donated a bit, but by and large I've either given things away or thrown them out with the trash each week. I've been able to get rid of things that I've hung onto for years with relative ease, and when I struggle to get rid of something and finally  make the choice, Atticus chimes in with, "Good decision!" It's encouraging. 

One of the big decisions I made last week was to get rid of papers I've held onto since I was in high school close to 40 years ago. I took classes in architecture and drafting back then. I liked it well enough, but I wasn't quite suited to it. I struggled to get the perspective perfect in spite of the tools I had at my disposal to draw them correctly. I just couldn't get it quite right. In a weak moment my junior year of high school, I cheated. I took another student's drawing, (with his permission), and I turned it in as my own. I was found out, and I ended up with a poor grade. I don't recall, if I got an incomplete in the class, or if I only got an F on that paper. It's been a long time ago, and a lot has happened in my life since then, so the details are blurry, but it has hung like a millstone around my neck all these years. 

I'm ashamed that I was so weak as to think that cheating was an option just because I was overwhelmed and I had a looming deadline. I'm not proud of myself for that. I think it's one of the reasons I've hung onto the blueprints all these years. I wanted to punish myself for my failure, because I didn't deserve to forgive myself. How could I forgive myself for such a moral failure? As a result, I've paid for that single moment of cheating many, many times over the years. 

Last week, I went page by page through the blueprints, as I told the story to Atticus. As hard as it was to admit, it was so freeing. I was able to forgive myself, to put the past in the past, and to move in to the future. 

Good decisions. 

Relentless.

I've never been great at making New Year's resolutions. I mean I've had good intentions and thought about making them, but it just didn't make sense for me to make resolutions for specific goals I had in mind. Life in our house isn't necessarily conducive to keeping a list of  individual goals in the forefront of my mind. Too many things/illnesses/surgeries/doctors' appointments/etc. eventually nudge out any thought of resolutions, and things go back to they way they always are before too long. While I do consider what I would like to change the following year, I don't write it down and don't make a commitment that I can't keep. I don't need the extra pressure. I've got enough pressure without adding an extra helping, because it's tradition.

Last week, a friend asked me, if I'd ever chosen a word to represent a year instead of resolutions. I hadn't , but I was intrigued. My thoughts over the last several days have continually drifted to her question. I really like the concept of a single word to represent the whole year to call on for motivation. It's a lot easier to remember a single word than it is a long list of things you want to change. I like that I can have one word represent how I want to tackle things in my life. 

So for 2019, I've chosen the word 'Relentless'. 

I will be relentless in my quest to tackle the hoard and continue to make good decisions to get rid of things. I will be relentless in my pursuit of personal growth. I will be relentlessly loving my family. 

These I can do. They might not look like a specific goal on a piece of paper, but I will accomplish much, and I will be able to motivate myself with a single word. 

I. Will. Be. Relentless.

A Place for Everything and Everything in Its Place.

A few years ago, we got a new shed to use as a workshop for when we're doing outdoor projects, and so we'd have a place to store garden stuff, Christmas decorations, and the like. But as is the case with hoarding, it got filled. It wasn't packed to the gills, but it was too full of stuff that we weren't sure where to put. But we want to actually use the shed for its intended purposes.

Enter Atticus.

He came over both yesterday and today and worked in the shed for us. We need to get the shed organized, so we can put things away where they need to go, as we empty out the garage and clean off the porch. It may seem silly that we're starting with the porch in order to finish the garage, but I firmly believe that this is going to make the whole process easier.

The shed is 10x12, and it has 3 metal storage cabinets When we had it built, we'd put all 3 of them in a line along the long side of the shed, but I realized that we'd have more space, if we put them at the back of the shed along the short wall, but in order to do it, Atticus had to empty the shed. He didn't have to take everything out of the cabinets or off the workbench, but he did need to remove everything from the floor, so he'd have the space to rearrange the cabinets. Sure enough, moving the cabinets around gave us more usable floor space, and it's going to make quite the difference.

Once he'd moved things around, he got the Christmas lawn ornaments out of the shed and spent a couple of hours helping to put the Nativity on the lawn. It's such a relief to have the decorations up already. I mean we usually try to put them up the day after Thanksgiving, but we haven't even celebrated Thanksgiving yet. We had to delay our celebration due to illness, but I still needed to try to get some things done. And getting the decorations out is huge. It takes way more time than it seems like it should, but the girls are alway so happy once it's up! I'm incredibly thankful for the help!

When Atticus came by again today, I worked out in the shed for a couple of hours with him. We got a lot accomplished. I got rid of roughly 20 gallon buckets of paint, three 2 gallon buckets, about 18 quarts, at least 2 dozen cans of spray paint along with several bottles of automotive chemicals and a chainsaw. Not only did I make a lot of space in the shed, but I was able to clear my head. I was able to release all the unfinished projects that the paint and chainsaw represented, and instead of feeling a loss, I felt nothing but peace.

I'm anxious to get the shed fully organized, so as I run across tools in the garage, they'll each have their own place.

Their. Own. Place.

Music to my ears.

So This Hoarding Thing.

It's complicated. 

There are few things that hold great meaning to me. Perhaps there is a larger number of things that hold meaning for me compared to other people, but very few that hold great meaning. I could honestly take or leave the rest. I'm finally to the point once again that I'm making some great choices about differentiating between those things that actually mean something to me and those that don't. 

Yesterday was downright balmy compared to today, so I worked in the garage for a few hours on my own. Atticus, (a young man who grew up down the street from us when our girls were all little), was going to come and help me out wasn't able to after all, but I refused to let the change in plans derail me. I worked in the garage on my own for almost 3 hours. 

I was able to get rid of a lot of things. Well, technically, some of the things are still in the garage, but I've found homes for them, so it's just a matter of getting out there again to get them loaded up once it gets warm again. On Thursday of this week, 4 new interior doors, 4 used sliding closet doors, and a large air compressor on a cart will all leave the garage for sure. Knowing where each of these things is going has already freed up mental space. It's nice.

I loaded up a garden wagon with pieces of an old pressboard cabinet for the trash. We'd torn apart the cabinet years ago and used the pieces as a floor in the attic but left it up there when cleaned the attic out last summer. The time has come that neither of us can physically make the trek up to the attic and back down safely, so we emptied it out, However, we hadn't removed the 'floor'. When we had the insulation in the attic blown in this summer, the workers took it all down. Since we're not going to be using the attic for storage anyway, off to the trash it goes, along with two extra large black trash bags that I filled to the top.

I know I've still got a long way to go, but I'm happy with the progress I've made up to this point. I was able to toss a couple of things in the trash instead of washing them to donate. I realized that the 50 cents the thrift store might get for each of the things would take me 15 minutes to get cleaned up and sterilized in order to donate just wasn't worth it. In fact, there was a good chance they'd just go in the trash once they were donated, anyway, so yeah, I chucked them. 

Yay me. 

I'm getting there. It's taking time, but I *am* getting there. 

One uncomfortable decision at a time.

If Some Day Never Comes

The girls are sick again, which will limit the amount of time I can work in the garage until they're feeling better. Thankfully, I was still able to get out there today and get a bit done. I filled two large black trash bags full of stuff for trash pickup this week.

A few of the things had been hard for me to let go of in the past, but I had no problem with getting rid of them today. One thing was a small dog bed. When we first got our puppy a few years ago, she had a tendency to chew the stuffing out of her dog beds. Literally. And for whatever reason, I felt the obligation to keep them for Some Day, as though it were a holiday to be held in high esteem. The day that I would get my sewing machine, (or glue, hammer and nails, cleaning products, or whatever else my project seemed to need at the time to be redeemed to it's (almost) former glory), and sit down and fix it.

I was finally able to part with a mat for the front door, too. It was one of those nice and heavy ones, but the picture on it was fading. In the mind of who I used to be, it was worth saving for Some Day. I'd go ahead and paint a new scene on it, so it would look nice. After all, it was a nice mat. It stayed in place fairly well, and it had some weight to it. Something about it's weight made me think it was a quality mat, and you shouldn't just throw quality things away. Right? I patted my former self on the back and tossed it in the bag. 

There were several other things I tossed, but one of my favorite things to get rid of was the packing popcorn that had spent most of its life in the attic. I could not seem to rid myself of it in the past no matter how hard I tried. Bubble wrap, plastic bags, peanuts, and boxes have always hung me up a bit. I'm sure it's because I always wanted to make sure that whatever I sold on eBay was packaged well. But who's kidding who? I don't know, if I'll ever sell anything on eBay again. The bag of plastic bags made me pause, but for only a millisecond. Into the trash they went. 

There was one thing that made me pause a bit longer. It was a great big yellow foam cowboy hat that my parents got me in highschool decades ago. I'd taken great pride in wearing it to school events at different times. It was silly and goofy and fun. I took it out of the bag that I'd neatly stored it in years ago. Years ago I'd folded the brim of it neatly and slid it into the bucket of the hat. The foam was still the bright yellow of yesteryear. It hadn't aged like normal foam - maybe because I'd kept good care of it? I started toward the trash bag but immediately started to back as I bent down to place it inside. Memories started to overwhelm me, and then I pictured Mom and Daddy. When they bought me the hat for my birthday, they certainly didn't think I'd have it for the rest of my life! They not only wouldn't expect it, they'd feel guilty, if they'd known how hard it was for me all these years to get rid of it.

I slid it in the bag and smiled. 

Some Day has finally arrived, but I realized that it's not a special day to set aside to mend things. 

It's time to mend me. 

It's gonna be a challenge.

Our home isn't all that large. It seems even smaller now that Hubster struggles with walking in tight spaces due to the Parkinson's. Even without the Parkinson's it's small. We can't open the dishwasher and oven door at the same time, because they'd hit one another. They're on opposite walls. Like I said. Small. 

Don't get me wrong. We love our house. It's our home. It will be our one and only home. We just want it to be a little more user friendly when the eventuality comes that Hubster will need a wheelchair. It is likely years away, but it will come. And we know from experience that our house is not built for someone in a wheelchair to get around. When Hopper broke her leg a few years ago, I thought we were all going insane from the lack of space!

We had a couple of major hail storms this year that tossed baseball-sized hail at our roof and patio cover. It destroyed them both, so they both will need replaced. The problem is that the roof on patio is entirely too small. Originally, there had been a brick planter all the way around, but the roof didn't extend over them. Now that the planters are gone, the patio looks like it's been the butt of a summer camp prank and has been short sheeted. Unfortunately, we can't replace the patio roof with a size large enough to cover the pad without new concrete being poured and a new structure being built.

We've also always wanted to convert the garage into living space, (think bigger kitchen and bigger living room), but we never even thought it was a possibility. It certainly isn't big enough for a car. Ok. Maybe a small car would fit in it, but there's no way an SUV or van would fit, and I don't see us getting by without one or the other. Come to think of it, I suppose the possibility existed, but the money to make it happen didn't exist, so we really didn't know when, how, or if it could ever happen, let alone get a carport.

We didn't want a little flimsy aluminum one that would blow into our neighbor's backyard with the smallest gust of wind, but a permanent carport that would protect the car from the hail, heat, snow, and ice. The thought of not having to shovel snow from the driveway seems to good to be true, let alone the safety factor. Where both Hubster and Scooter are at greater risk for falls, the thought of a driveway free of ice sounds beyond amazing! 

All of these renovations have been nothing but far-off dreams for years. Until now. We just found out that Hubster's disability claim was awarded, so we will be signing loan paperwork to get started on all of it in the next few days! We are super excited and can't wait for the additions to our home to be complete!

The flip side of things is that it's a lot of work. The garage is full. It's not as full as it used to be, because we have worked on paring down quite a bit, but there is still a massive amount of stuff out there. My mission, if I choose to accept it, is to get rid of every. single. thing. in the garage and on the porch. Once they pull the walls from the kitchen and living room down, any mouse or spider that currently resides in the garage will have free access to the house. If we get rid of everything out there, they won't have a place to hide, and we'll be able to eradicate each of them before the wall comes down. 

Totally worth it. 

This mission is going to be difficult, there's no doubt, but guess who's up for the job? That's right! I'm ready to put in the work to reap the rewards of a bigger, more comfortable home. I'm finding that dehoarding decisions are coming easier now that there's a real goal in mind, so I'm just going to go in each day that I work out there with the renovations in mind. 

This mission may be difficult, it may be a herculean challenge, but it is not impossible. 

I accept.

Forgiveness. It's what's for supper.

Lots has happened since I was last here. Lots. Mostly good. Overwhelmingly good, actually.

Shortly after I last wrote, we had to leave for almost a month to be with my mom. She had open heart surgery that went fantastically well. A hiccup here and there, but she's doing great, and we are very thankful! Without it, she wouldn't be here today. Like I said. We're very, very thankful!

We also found out Hopper has virtually no immune system. This doesn't sound like a good thing, but it really is. She would still have virtually no immune system, if we didn't know, and at least by knowing, we can get her treatment. The treatment is getting infusions of replacement immunoglobulin once a month for the rest of her life. It's harvested from the B cells in the plasma that people donate. Her infusions contain the immunoglobulin from no less than 10,000 donors, and as much as 100,000 donors for each treatment! That amazes me! 

While I know some people give plasma, because it pays well, I also know there are others who donate for no other reason than to save lives. Regardless of the motivation behind the donations, I just want to say that we appreciate each and every person who donates to save our daughter's life! From the bottoms of our hearts, thank you!

Before the 'dear friend', (that tried to derail me), contacted me to see, if we could rebuild our friendship, I had already forgiven her. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and holding anger towards her, I started praying for her. It changed my mindset completely, and I had complete peace about all of it. I'm not saying that I'll let it happen to me again. I won't. I refuse to willingly participate in the destruction of anyone's mental health, including my own. 

I told her I would be willing to try to rebuild our friendship, but I also know that I'm okay with leaving it like it is, which looks nothing like it used to look. It's more of an acquaintance thing for now, and it likely will be for quite some time - perhaps forever. I've moved on. I harbor no ill feelings for her at all, but I don't think we're supposed to be really close friends, and my heart is okay with that, too. 

In spite of everything, I continue to dehoard. There are days that it might not look like much, but with each thing I toss, donate, or sell, my mind clears, and my mood lifts. Earlier this month, we got a couple of little cabinets to store our medical supplies, so we we are using shelves instead of drawers. I cleaned our old one out, purged a lot of things we no longer needed or used, and came across one thing that actually made me feel a bit sad for that person that I used to be. That person who didn't know how to clear the cobwebs from her mind enough to know that it was okay to throw certain things away.

I was finishing up the last little pile of items to sort that came out of the drawers of medical supplies yesterday. In it was a pair of those clip-on sunglasses that were covered in what looked like whitewash paint. I felt sad for the old me, who couldn't seem to throw them away, but I know her. She wasn't hanging onto them, because they were 'so important' to her that she couldn't part with them. She held onto them, because they were a splurge at a time when we couldn't really afford them, and she felt guilty they were messed up. She felt that somehow it was her responsibility to at least try to fix them, so they were usable again, and she stuck them in a tin to fix when she 'got around to it'. She just never got around to it.

And do you know what I did? I gave her a hug, I forgave her, told her to forgive herself, and then I promptly threw them in the trash. And it was freeing for both of us. 

It's amazing how good forgiveness tastes. 

Well, That Escalated Quickly

I hate when this happens. 

I get a thought or idea in my head. Something special. Something that I feel is meaningful, but others don't. And yet I need their help to pull it off, so it falls apart. And then I fall apart. Or explode. Or a bit of both.

Today was one such day.

We watched Baby Bug today, and I was able to finish up a handprint/footprint painting for both sets of great grandparents, and for her other grandmother. Each painting consisted of no less than 3 footprints and no less than 2 handprints. And while that doesn't sound like any big deal, it's no small feat with a 1 year old. And we had so much fun doing it! She was really enjoying herself, and so was I.

We laughed about the fact that I got paint on my clothes, and she got some on her paint clothes, too. We talked about each of the characters in the paintings, and she was very proud of all her hard work! We talked about her giving her painting to her other grandmother. (The great grands live out of state). It really was a lot of fun.

She was getting tired, so I held her while she napped, and I drifted off a bit myself, because once she starts that deep rhythmic breathing once she closes her eyes, my breathing follows suit. It's rare that I can keep my eyes open when I hold her when she's napping. I thoroughly enjoy the snuggles. The time goes so fast. Why is it that babies are little for such a short time?

The plan when she woke up from her nap was to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree, so we could take it down. I want her to be able to see pictures of what she looked like when she painted these masterpieces. I wanted her to see how proud she was years from now when she looked back at her former self holding her paintings. I wanted to give her parents a picture to go with the paintings she did for them, because they are little for such a short amount of time. 

And I wanted a picture of us together. Because years from now when I look at it, I want to be able to feel her little arms around mine. To breathe her in again as I look at the pictures. To remember all the fun we had. 

But nobody would help me.

Bugster got off early, and I asked her, if she could help. She said yes at first, and then she changed her mind. I asked Hubster, but he's having a bad Parkinson's day. He's been cold all day. So he spent most of the day under a blanket in his recliner. And by the time he realized I needed help I'd been talking about for weeks, Bubster showed up to pick up Baby Bug. 

And things just fell apart. I asked Bubster, if he would help. He jokingly said 'no', because he says that a lot. But he also didn't do a thing to help me. And of course, when Baby Bug saw her daddy, it was all over. And she wouldn't sit with me for pictures. So they went home.

And I was left with all sorts of emotions that I wasn't prepared for. Disappointment apparently wasn't enough. I went straight into self-loathing, self-hatred, and every negative memory from every single negative experience in my life flooded in at once. And I exploded. Which made me hate myself even more. 

I'm just done. 

I'm done with having a Christmas tree in my living room for 4 months. I'm done with falling victim to my high expectations, (who knew a snapshot was a high expectation?). I'm done with my husband having Parkinson's and life being so incredibly different than what it was supposed to be. And I'm done with asking for help. 

I'm just done. 

I'll Take "A Side of Frozen Claustrophobia in Limbo Land" for the win, Alex.

Christmas came late this year for us. Or really early. I guess it depends on how you look at it. We were all finally feeling well enough to celebrate Christmas in mid-February. We still have our tree up, because we have to get a couple of pictures of Baby Bug with some cute little paintings we made for her parents with her hand and footprints. It will be good to get the tree down soon. I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. We will have Baby Bug over tomorrow, so we will get it down this weekend.

The bad thing is that I've been feeling a bit more claustrophobic in the house lately. 

The good thing is that I've been feeling a bit more claustrophobic in the house lately.

As much as I hate the discomfort of the feeling, it always leads to a surge of dehoarding, and I'm really beyond wanting to get it done! However, I'm far enough behind again that I'm feeling frozen. I just need to get moving. Once I do, I'll thaw out a bit and will start accomplishing things again. So tonight, I will make a master list of things that need to be done in the near future and another list for the not-so-distant future. Lists always make me feel better, because I feel like I know where to start. It gives me a visual of what I've accomplished when I mark something off the list. And yes. I've been known to add something I've accomplished to the list after I've done it. It's still a record, and it helps.

Hubster's Parkinson's has left him exhausted all the time. It doesn't help that we have been sick more often than not since October and had to cancel Christmas week after week after week. But now that we're all feeling better, I need to kick it into gear. It's so easy to let his exhaustion be contagious, but I can't afford to do that. 

I need to propel myself out of the Land of Limbo. 

Stick a Fork In Me. I'm Done.

The last year has been difficult.

I've had to let the friendship of the 'dear friend' I wrote about the last time I was on my blog go by the wayside. I knew I had done something that bothered her, but she would never give me the courtesy of explaining what it was. Instead, she would 'punish' me by ignoring me when I would do something that bothered her, she would be passive aggressive, and just refused to communicate. It was exhausting and stressful. 

At first, it absolutely crushed me. It crushed my spirit. I was not suicidal, because I refuse to go down that path. I know what it does to family members and friends when someone chooses to end their life, and it will never be an option for me no matter how bad things are going. And since I've been there on the brink when I was in highschool and actually attempted suicide, I know when I start to go down that path, and I can avoid it. In spite of the fact that suicide was not an option, this past year has been a very dark year for me.

She works with the girls at the day program they attend. In order for them to receive the funding they get, we have to have a staffing with the day program and the social service organization that controls the funding. I would be asked what was working or wasn't working with the girls, and I would stupidly gush about all the wonderful things that happened when she was with them. She apparently got in trouble for it at work, but she wouldn't tell me what it was that I said that was the issue.

She didn't want her name brought up with anything to do with the girls, because she said it wasn't fair to her to get in trouble, if I mentioned her name. But that makes no sense at all. Me mentioning something that she had done shouldn't have gotten her in trouble. Then it dawned on me recently that she got in trouble for it, because it was something she wasn't supposed to do. It wasn't me. It was her,

But it took her refusing to meet to discuss things like adults after I'd repeatedly asked for a meeting. And while I believe they were worthy causes, she'd contact me out of the blue asking me, if I wanted to donate to a fundraiser or something. I did. I know. It was stupid. I wanted the friendship so much that I supported whatever it was that came my way. It didn't happen often-only every few months, but then she'd get mad at me again, and she would withhold her friendship. 

Did I mention it was exhausting?

The last time, she contacted me while she was at work and asked, if I wanted to buy one of the fundraising cards that the high school was selling. I said sure, and I sent a note in with the cash pay for it. Yep. In the communication notebook, I wrote what the money I was sending in was for, because I wanted a record that it had been sent in. If it was lost, I would have ended up spending twice the amount, and that was what was on my mind when I wrote the note. It wasn't that I wasn't trying to maintain boundaries. That was the last thing on my mind when I wrote the note. I just didn't want something to happen to the money.

Of course, it was followed by the silent treatment. Punished. Again. She was trying to hold me to a standard that she wasn't holding herself to and then punishing me when I failed to realize it. 

Several months earlier, she said that I liked getting information from people to use it against them when the time was right. I'm not like that. At least I certainly never set out to be that way. I don't intentionally hurt others. I've hurt others and not had a clue as to how I did, but I haven't set out to intentionally hurt anyone. But she did. She got to the point where she would not tell me what had happened during the day when she was with one of the girls. She would purposely not write in the communication notebooks, and then would only respond, 'good' when I would ask how things went during the day. 

I know she was trying to hurt me, but she wasn't. She was hurting the girls. The last time she did it, I wrote her a very professional note and explained exactly why we needed the communication notebook and sent it in a message to her. Her response? 'Ok. Thanks'. That was it. 

In the meantime, we had another staffing for one of the girls. Her name came up. I found out weeks after the meeting that she blocked me from the messaging app. It's always about punishment for her. For us, it's about what has worked for the girls, and it has never been about intentionally hurting anyone. Ever.

Thankfully, my eyes have been opened, and the last few things she pulled didn't hurt at all. I realized months ago that I don't want to be friends with someone who is intentionally punitive to someone instead of being an adult and actually talking things out. 

I take responsibility for my part in things. I did fall into gossip with her about some things that were happening at the day program, but I also never would have known about any of them, if she hadn't brought them up. (Not excusing my behavior, but hopefully, she will realize she was to blame as well). And I don't know that I have Austism or that I'm codependent. I might be. But I will be returning to counseling, so I can figure it all out. 

As much as I didn't understand before now why outside friendships shouldn't happen between medical staff/patients or teachers/care providers/those that care for your children and a parent, I get it now. She used her position to manipulate me into things I wouldn't normally have done. (We have gotten those stupid fundraising cards 3 years in a row and never used them once). I won't let it happen again. I've learned my lesson.

I honestly do wish her the best. But I'm done.

Love hurts.

Tonight a dear friend of mine got irritated with me after I replied to something she said. She took me completely aback when she said "I was in a weird codependent mood again".

I went through a wide range of emotions rather quickly.

I was confused, hurt, irritated, and did I mention I was confused? She said I'd made a conversation we were having about me. I didn't think I had, and I still don't exactly see it, but I'm actually glad she said something to me.

It definitely made me think. After I cried, of course. (Did I mention they up and fell off?)

I looked up codependency. Everything I knew of it pertained someone interacting with a loved one who was addicted to drugs or alcohol. So I was surprised when I saw the definition had changed, and I saw myself in so many of the symptoms on the checklist.

I'm thinking that this fits the bill so much better than an autism diagnosis.

As much as it hurt to hear, I'm thankful my friend pointed it out to me. It makes sense. And I'll be calling this week to get things scheduled with a counselor of some sort. I'm actually looking forward to it.

I don't want to live like this anymore. It's exhausting.

Ugh!

Up until a few years ago, when someone hurt my feelings, I'd get mad. When I'd screw something up, I'd get angry. I was just angry all the time. It didn't help that I have such a severe case of resting bitch face there is, because I also looked angry even when I wasn't. And I hated it when people would ask me, if I was mad. It irritated the crap out of me!

But my sister, who was always so much softer than I was, told me a few years ago that she always admired that about me. She worked in a very high stress job where showing emotions were detrimental. She said she'd have given just about anything to have the personality that I have, because it would make her life so much easier. It would be easier to be taken seriously, if she wasn't crying every time she got mad or frustrated. 

Several years later, she had relief in the form of a hysterectomy. She said she felt like she grew "a great big pair" the moment she woke up from surgery. She no longer cried at the drop of a hat, and she was able to be taken seriously by everyone. 

Fast forward to today.

I think mine shriveled up and fell off. 

There are days I can hardly make it through the day without just being weepy all day long. It's SO not like me. I'm thinking it has a lot to do with the lack of hormones that come with menopause. I feel weak and incapable, and I hate it! If something happens first thing in the morning that sets me off, it's hard to shake it for the rest of the day. I feel completely incapable of making a decision. In fact, I wrote the last post about 3 weeks ago and just barely published it last night.

It pisses me off!

Which makes me cry. 

Ugh!

What's wrong with me?

For the past couple of years, but especially the last several months, I've wondered, if I'm on the Autism spectrum. Back when I was a kid, I struggled with friendships. It seemed like I always did something wrong to push people away, but I never quite understood what happened that made the friendship die. It was just...over. But it wasn't just when I was a kid. I've been like this my entire life.

And while I can easily put myself in others' shoes and even physically feel what they are feeling, I struggle with figuring it out in someone's writing unless they actually spell it out. Which makes other parts of my life make a bit more sense. Like that fact that I love deep contrasts in color like black and white. Like the fact that I love absolutes. Like the fact that I've always loved rules. Like the fact that I've always loved math, because there's either a right answer or a wrong answer. Period. 

I like clarity. I need it, like I need air to breathe. 

And when I communicate, whether it is through writing or talking, I use more words than most to get my meaning across. I want to know that I'm understood, and I want desperately to understand others. So when others use passive aggressive ways to communicate it confuses me. I understand that they're irritated with me, and that I've done something wrong, but I have no clue as to what it is unless they've said it directly.

I think that it's me. And then I loathe who I am. And I have a really hard time figuring out how to fix things.

What's wrong with me?

Feeling Human...ish

It appears the steroids I'm taking are finally getting a good grip on things. I'm feeling closer to normal than I have in several weeks. I'm hoping this means I'll be able to start accomplishing something, since I've barely been able to do the basics the last few weeks. The house is a disaster, but it's been worse. 

Much worse. 

I'm going to work on getting the Christmas tree down today. It's times like this I'm thankful we didn't put much up this year. It will make it a breeze to put away. I'm sad though. One of the branches on our artificial tree broke sometime between us putting it away last year and putting it up this year. We're going to have to look for a new one next year, since we didn't get a chance to this year. We'll keep this around until it's time to put the tree up next year just in case we don't get around to buying a new one, but it will be out the door the moment we have a replacement. 

Once I get the Christmas decorations put away, I'll work on general cleaning in the house. It won't be much, but it is all I'm capable of at this point. That's okay. I refuse to stress over things. Stressing over things is what got me into this mess in the first place. 

And in the famous words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow is another day."

The mind is willing...

but the flesh is weak.

Especially today. And yesterday. And this past week.

Hoping for a break from the asthma flare and the back spasms now that I'm done with the flu. I'm ready to get started!

Maybe watching Baby Bug tomorrow will pull the kink out of it! She will at least put a huge smile on my face!

Size Matters.

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The cursor mocks me while I sit here trying to figure out where to begin. . .

I'm ready to get really busy dehoarding again. And I'm ready to start blogging about it again, because I find I hold myself more accountable when I do. I feel like I have more control over things. And I've got to take the control back from the things that have been controlling me, so I'm back. 

Don't get me wrong. I haven't relapsed to the point of no return. My house is not overflowing to the point it once was, but it's definitely not where I want it to be. I've just been...busy. For the last year. A Baby Bug does that to grandparents, and I'm not complaining! I just have to readjust my focus a little. And I did that today...

For our 16th wedding anniversary, we bought our first bedroom set. Before that we had a hodge podge of furniture that didn't match, and we made due. And after 16 years of marriage, we decided to take the plunge and buy a bedroom set. And the bedroom set is gorgeous! We had seen several beds that we liked while we were out shopping, but when we turned the corner and saw the one we bought, we both gasped audibly. We'd never had an experience quite like that before. We knew this was our set. 

The bed is what sold us. It's a gorgeous 4 poster canopy bed. Instead of the canopy going in a square around the bed, this canopy has all sorts of pretty metal curls that meet up in the center of the bed. It's an absolutely stunning mix of gorgeous oak and metal work with posts that are a good 6" in diameter at the largest. Just. Stunning.

At the time we went shopping for it 15 years ago, Hubster wanted to try a king-size bed, because we'd always had queens up until then. And we've had a love/hate relationship with the size ever since. We like that fact that we both have room to stretch out, but we both hate that we have to climb over a hump in the middle of the bed in order to reach one another. It makes any sort of snuggling difficult. More than anything else it takes up an awful lot of room in our traditional, small bedroom. 

And its size makes it really hard to maneuver around. Especially for Hubster. The Parkinson's has made us realize that we have to rethink how we go forward. For instance, we won't be using glass shower doors after all. We had gotten some for both our bathtub and for our shower, but now we can't use them. They're not a really good idea for someone who has balance issues, and Parkinson's causes balance issues. So we will need to sell them. Besides that, it looks like we may need to combine the two bathrooms into one. Neither of them is really conducive to free movement, and free movement is necessary. 

Which brings me back to our bedroom set. 

We made the very difficult decision today to get rid of it. 

::::2 points for making a hard dehoarding decision::::

Go us!

It's going to take some time to make it all happen. We will need to do a complete dehoarding of our bedroom first. The bedroom itself isn't too bad, but you don't even want to see the closet! (Well, maybe you do, but I don't know that I'm going to show you). And we need to do a major purge of clothes that we will never. ever. wear. no. matter. what. size. we. are. We are giving ourselves permission to put ourselves and our future first. 

And our future looks amazing!