After Dark, With New Glasses

I picked up my wickedly cool new glasses today. Black cat-eye with rhinestones and, of course, my hideously thick lenses. But damn. They are fucking cute and I feel sassy. I’m very fortunate that the place I got them will swap out the lenses for readers after I have my cataract surgeries. I’m counting down in that typical impatient way that I have. I’ve waited so long for this surgery and to be this close with no confirmation that insurance will cover it is teasingly horrible.

I made it home before dark this evening, but it was uncomfortably close. I had things I needed to do after work, so I took the chance. I don’t like taking those kinds of chances, though. Not anymore.

So here I am, sitting in the living room corner, with the only two windows in my front room, and I’m looking out into the dark and I feel vulnerable. Or maybe I feel limited. Or it’s a mix of the two and they fight it out for supremacy.

I think about this more now… What would I do if there were an emergency with my kiddo? I think I could get us to the hospital, but I know I’d be putting myself, my kiddo, and the other drivers at risk. But I’d do it because of course I would.

I don’t like to be out within an hour of the sun going down and this makes me feel slightly like a person in a horror movie. Everything takes on an edge when you’re aware that you’ve got that kind of flexible limitation, where the timing on when it will be too dark is kind of iffy as the days grow shorter.

Less than two weeks to go, though, and then I’ll see how I’m doing. Will it bring back late night travels to go get a drink or a snack or just take a drive? Speaking of driving – will I actually feel more like driving again?

The crickets are going to town out there. I can hear them, even with the doors closed and the windows tight. It sounds inviting and homey.

I love my new glasses and could have been happy in them if the surgery wasn’t going to happen, but as wonderful as they are, they can’t give me back the night. So I’m happy and counting down for the surgery.

Moonfire

Chaos and the Aftermath of Moving

Oldest has moved in with my Mum. It’s more of an “in process” kind of thing, with much to do at the old house where the tree fell and ended a lot of the way things were.

Spicy Ginger has to deal with the destruction at the house he inherited, as well as insurance settlement shit that has left him kind of reeling.

In the meantime, the front door of that house is destroyed and the front wall is unstable, so there’s no way to move things out through the front. It has taken a lot of finessing and extra care to get things out. Oldest has taken the lead on it and they are fucking amazing. I know Oldest has this incredible strength hiding inside but often they don’t realize it.

Mum’s place is now filled to the gills with stuff and the chaos is spread between the old house, Mum’s house, and my place.

It’s a wreck here. And here is where I must absolutely comment on Autism and chaos. It’s not a good mix. Youngest and I are suffering. I am up a bit early so I can do a few things and it’s just too much. I have to focus on it when I get home from work.

What I really see after this weekend is that Oldest is incredibly capable and when focused (which apparently involves playing classic jazz on Spotify), she can accomplish anything.

I think all they needed from me was some of the “Mom Energy” as her BFF and Roomie told me yesterday. I did nothing to help. I had to sit because the heat was killing me and dehydration was not my friend. In the end, I was driver and cheerleader, but not arms and not legs. I was there to be a wee guide, but that’s it.

And I have to say that I’m ready to let Oldest do her adult thing and find her way. I’ll still caution her to be a good helper to Gramma. They both need that.

But Youngest and I need my focus here, on getting us back to organized or even close. The anxiety I feel with the disorder is almost overwhelming and I have to go to work, so it can’t be done. It’s the worst kind of feeling, leaving Youngest in our place with it like this. If I feel this level of anxiety, I can only image how it’s impacting her.

And now it’s time to finish my rehydration and shower. The mess will be here after work and so will I.

Moonfire

A Happy Dance

October 10th and 11th are my surgery dates! They can do them back to back, due to how bad my eyes are. I’ll be off work those two days and possibly the 12th, as well.

I’ve had glasses since I was 7. I got my first bifocals at 12. The year I was 15 I lost 25% of my vision.

I can’t drive at night now (not safely, anyway). I’m having a hard time seeing all the time, but mostly just figured that’s how life is with my extremely poor vision.

Today I went through the formal assessment of my cataracts and one of the tests put to rest any thoughts I had that I wasn’t a candidate for surgery. They turned out the lights and had me look at the lit eye chart. I couldn’t focus on it. Then they shone a light up, underneath my eyes, and holy shit! The eye chart came into focus!! It was fucking amazing!

So yeah. My cataracts are bad enough that they are impairing my vision.

I want to cry. I am so fucking happy that I am getting this surgery. I feel like I have been waiting for it all my fucking life.

I had to choose what I wanted… distance or close vision. I chose distance. I can wear the hell out of reading glasses… no problem.

I can hardly wait to wake up in the morning and see.

Moonfire

A Zillion Reasons I hate Fibromyalgia

Fuck. I was walking around a corner, to go into the ladies room, and someone was suddenly there and it jolted me so what did my nervous system do? It fucking zapped me in my dominant arm – hard. It was a nasty pain flare and even now I’m nervous about it happening again.

That’s life with Fibro. People around me can’t see it, so they forget what it does to me. No, my muscles aren’t sore. It’s my damned nervous system setting off for what is often no good reason at all.

My feet hurt from the pain messages my nervous system is sending my brain. I feel bruised from head to toe, but no marks. My hair hurts. My eyes hurt.

Fuck all of this.

I’m stressed at work because of things that are beyond my control and yet it means I have to sit there each day and try to come up with ways to fill my time until the things come through. (Data sets that are crucial and the vendor fucked up and killed the processes that generate them.) I’ve been editing the manual for my position – making it better and more clear about the processes, including information that explains the “why” for a lot of things we do. But I’m burned out on editing and crafting the narrative. I developed a new spreadsheet to handle a set of three processes today and I felt great, but then I had to start drafting the instructions and once again, I’m fried.

I’m working a half day tomorrow since I have to go for the consult to evaluate me for cataract surgery. I’m so fucking glad it’s a half day. My eyes will be dilated, so I won’t be able to drive or stare at a computer after the appointment and thus, I get to go home. I’m tired and it’s the kind of tired that sleep won’t help. I need my body to give me a break. I need big brain breaks to give my nervous system a chance to wind down.

I need life to give me a break. Period.

I’m just tired.

Moonfire

Tired, As Always

There are things in my world that are beyond exhausting and I know I need to let them go, but it’s so much easier in theory than reality. For instance, take the notion of being a single parent. As time passes, I realize that we started off with the notion of co-parenting, but the reality is very different. I should have known in advance how it would all go down, but I was hopeful.

Now I see clearly that it was always like this and splitting up only made it more clear and distinct. Today is one of those days where I’m really trying to get him to step up, but even the trying is like sludging through jello. It’s slow. It’s thankless. And ultimately, I think I need to let it go. He isn’t going to be the dad I’d hoped my kids would get. He’s the one they’ve got and me expending my limited energy on asking him to be more is only wiping me out.

I really feel for my oldest. They are struggling with this shitty move and I want to help more, but I’m so fucking limited. Work is draining my energy. Posting the birds for rehoming is tearing up my heart. And Youngest needs a better mom, but I’m all she’s got.

I think I have to let go of trying with X and just do all that I can on my own. I’ve tried this before… Back when we were still together, but it was really hard. This time it’s going to take more effort. But I just can’t do it anymore.

So to my kids? I’m going to do all I can, ok? We will just have to get through this.

Back to work I go. Hopefully the day will pass quickly.

Moonfire

Getting Ready to Go Back

I’m a little stressed tonight. I don’t want to go back tomorrow. It’s not because of the job. I like it well enough. I’m just so freaking tired.

I need a week to get rested and I had today.

I don’t know what else to say. It’s a level of fatigue that I know doesn’t get better with sleep.

But I’ll do my best and be back at it tomorrow. At least my supervisor is off tomorrow and I think that will do us both some good.

Moonfire

Took a Drink Vacation, It Was Good

My direct supervisor is driving me crazy.

I don’t mean a little crazy. I mean: Get home on a Friday and warn the kids that I’m heading over to Spicy Ginger’s place for booze and some green therapy.

I want to clarify at this point that I very (VERY) rarely drink. It’s just not my thing. I enjoy it on extremely infrequent occasions and typically it’s about mixing up my whipped cream vodka with something tasty. I’m around green therapy all the time, as Spicy Ginger is a daily smoker, but I don’t imbibe directly on a very frequent basis as it usually just makes me very sleepy.

So back to my direct supervisor, who from here on out will just be DS. She is… damn… what is she? She is this weird mix of nice and critical – not constructive critical… more like Death of Thousand Cuts Critical.

I’m practicing saying “Ok, that sounds good” over and over so that it will become so ingrained that the next time she goes off on her thing, I will have this practiced answer ready to go. Anything else is pointless.

We had something happen with one single invoice out of almost 200 that went out for August. ONE invoice. It was easily remedied and it was not the end of the world. She made it the end of the world and then proceeded to beat it to death endlessly, mostly by making it a big deal for me. We had already come up with a solution AND I had already indicated that yes, I would review everything one last time before mailing. And then she brought it up again.

What should have been one single sentence from her in our weekly meeting, instead turned into 15 minutes of her digging at me.

When we moved on from there, after she made a very large deal out of how we have to work together as a team, I mentioned something to demonstrate that my co-worker and I are indeed working as a team, and that turned into a THING, too.

My debacle trying to get my antibiotics filled this week turned into a THING, as well. I’m 53 years old, chronically ill, and struggling to keep working and she LECTURED me about what I should do to get the prescription filled.

“Ok, that sounds good.”

I think I’ll also practice, “Ok, I’ll take care of that.”

I also irritated her in the meeting. I think I’ll practice staying quiet and I’ll practice, “Everything is going well.”

She is going to retire in less than 18 months. That’s all I have to endure… 18 months.

I have a good portion of my whipped cream vodka in Spicy Ginger’s freezer and I expect I’ll need it.

Moonfire