Beware of Flying Monkeys

Itching, Scratching & Hives, Oh My!

Seriously what else can happen to me - the plague? I went to work after a 2 week vacation over the holidays and expected it to be crazy and busy. And it was. Nothing new, and I was expecting it. But sometime around 9:30am I broke out into a itching and scratching dance and was covered in red splotchy hives. WTF? I am only allergic to seasonal alleregens like pollen, ragweed, grass, but since its -10 degrees Celsius here and winter that's not it. I cannot have any sulpher based medications, but didn't have those today, so what the hell?

It's insane - I can't go 5 minutes without trying to tear off my skin. So I buy some Benadryl and anti-itch lotion and pray that this is just some weird reaction to something I may have touched. Nope...nothing works. So I decide to leave and work from home where I can scratch in peace and privacy.

Fast forward 9 hours. Still itchy, but not as bad. Hives appear to have significantly dimished. Only splotchy in some areas, but were swollen. And I managed to get my work done. Perhaps I am allergic to WORK! That would be a interesting disability claim. But no, I don't think its that. Off to see the doctor tomorrow so we'll see what she says. Hope its not a reaction to my meds - I can't handle weaning off yet another anti-depressant. Who knows?

It seems like 29 so far has been full of ailments. Maybe its all psychosomatic. Maybe I really am just crazy. If only - doctor says I'm the most sane patient she has. Great. Something I excel at - being sane amongst all the chaos that is my life.

Excuse me -- need to go scratch my elbows again, Ugh!

Happy Birfday.....

I survived the day, and actually enjoyed myself. Minus the migriane headache and bouts of nausea. Not sure what that's all about. But even though I was dreading this day, and what turning 29 was all supposed to be about for me, it wasn't as bad as I expected. Does this mean I am "okay" now - no silly rabbits. I am still processing the last 386 days since he died. It just means I didn't have a shitty day, that I enjoyed people wishing me well, giving me gifts and flowers, treating me to dinners (which by the way not necessary at all, but greatly appreciated!!), and I had an OK day. There is nothing wrong with having an OK day, and having an OK day does not preclude me from having more crappy, depressing, sad, miserable, grief stricken days in the near future. They will come. The bastards are known to come in bouts and clusters as my widow friends know. But, today was not one of them. And I know he is proud of me for actually wanting to enjoy my 'day' and celebrate that I am still alive (no idea why or how) and that I am loved by many, not just him.

Today can't replace the large whole in my heart he took when he died, but it certainly stopped the pain for a few hours.

So thank you...I have 4 more hours of specialness left and I am going to go enjoy them if I can.

xoxo

Almost 29....

And that sounds so wrong to say out loud. I don't really remember being 28 so can it really count as a year gone by? What if I want to stay 28 so I can remember the year? Do I have to turn 29 in 30 minutes just because my birth certificate says so?

Unfortunately the answer is yes. And while I don't remember much of the last 365 days, I do have some happy moments among the many hard and sad ones. I remember the births of so many little babies who joined us and whose lives I have been able to be a part of. I remember watching children who were crawling at this moment last year, start walking and running, and talking, and now talking back. Ah, the joys of 2 year olds. I remember the meeting of new friends, some widows, others who have suffered other losses and getting to know them. I remember the first time I laughed so hard I cried after what felt like eons of time passing. I remember getting my G1, driving school, and then completing and passing my G2 road exam. ( I know....seriously they passed me.) I remember renting my first car.

Most recently, I went through Tim's side of the closet and his dresser. It was time. I finally sorted through his clothing and decided what I would keep, what I would save for special people, and what I would donate to charity. I know he would want his belongings to go to the homeless on the streets of our city. I know he'd want them to be worn this winter. I know exactly where he'd want them to go. So I called the church where his memorial was held last February and discovered they work with Out of the Cold and are in desparate need for clothing. So, that's taken care of, and it was one of the hardest things I've done. To sort through years of memories that I could touch and smell. To remember buying him the sweaters, to recall the events he wore the ties to, to touch the shirts that were just worn by him...I could almost feel him there. And then I found it. The one item that brought me to my knees. The sweater. The one I gave him for Christmas. The one he wore to my 26th birthday dinner. The one that made his eyes sparkle. The one he is wearing in the photo I chose for his funeral memorial card. I could not give away that sweater. Its now on a pillow and I sleep with it. It still smells like him. I can still picture him wearing it. I don't know what I will do with it, but it will always be with me.

I think that was one of the best birthdays I shared with him. It was also one of the last. I have now had two birthdays without him. But he'd want me to have fun. He'd enjoy torturing me about getting older. He'd always make me breakfast on my special day. He'd always surprise me with something I never figured he'd get me. Just being with him was enough of a gift.

So turning 29...not too pleased about it. Not how I figured my life would be. But here I am. And I am lucky enough to have family and friends know how much I miss him and how much I detest this whole grief process. So they have gone out of their way to let me know I am on their minds, that they wish me happiness this year, and that they want to share my birthday with me. Enter R. She took me out to dinner tonight and came all the way to do so. She drove 1.5 hours each way to be with me. She made me laugh. She allowed me to cry. She just let me be me. You see, I haven't known R. very long - about a year & a half. She was his highschool friend. They were good friends and reconnected in 2007. And then he died. And she held my hand, gave me her shoulder to lean on, and has been there ever since. I will always be grateful to Tim for having her as a friend and cherishing that friendship.

So even though Tim isn't alive and able to hug me and tell me how much he loves me, he has done just that for my birthday this year. She was his gift to me this year. She was exactly what I needed tonight. He always knew exactly what to get me. He was just that kind of a guy.

Someone once wrote "true love never lives happily ever after - true love has no ending" and they were so right. Love will always shine through even against all odds. Always.

Insomnia

I have been suffering off and on with it for the last year. I went from a girl who could sleep anywhere, anytime, and soundly all night long, to someone who is lucky to get 3-4 hours a night all broken up into 45 minute sections.

I could not sleep last night. I tossed, I turned, I pulled off the blankets, I snuggled under them, I counted sheep, I took a sleeping pill, I watched CNN, and nothing. Nope not even fluttering eyelid. At 4 am I said to hell with this all and was going to "get up" and then I yawned. And my eyes closed gently, and I feel asleep. This time for 3 whole uninterrupted hours. That's progress!
This insomnia bullshit comes and goes in waves like my grief. I think its getting better...one-two nights of crappy sleep versus weeks on end.

Just when you think you are getting used to what is the new normal, bang! Something reminds you that this is far from over and the road ahead is quite long. At least I am not working today so I might be able to pull off a midday nap with the cats. A girl can dream can't she?

*************************************

Ok so no napping and I probably shouldn't have gone through the boxes of pictures sitting in our bedroom. But I miss him and I wanted to see his smiling face, his beautiful blue eyes and get lost in the memories. So crying happens (will I ever be able to look at pictures of us without having a meltdown ever again?) and I manage to pick myself up.

But one picture made me cry the most. It was our photo shoot....we called it our fake engagement shoot. For some oddball reason he wanted us to take portraits. So we did for fun and I can still remember that winter day in December 2003. We'd been together for 1.5 years (officially), he'd given me my promise/engagement ring and we were so giddy in love. We took dozens of pictures, but this one captures the magic that day. For the first time in over a year I can remember the girl in the picture. I can feel what her face says. Its me...I recognize her. I think we gazed like that at each other all day.... this is so unfair. I should have been able to gaze like that at him well into my 80's. I should be able to have my wrinkled old face look at him like that again and again.

I'd give anything for this one day to happen again....anything.

Day 1.....can't I go back to 2007???

Ok so its January 1st. Almost through the 20 days of hell. 3 more days, then its my 29th birthday and then its all over again. Well until Valentine's Day that is.

So I cooked. Yeah me. I went big. I made a steak with frites (white & sweet potato). And I messed it all up. I so overcooked the steak. Even by my standards. I was a well-done girl when I met Tim, and he introduced me to what steak is supposed to taste like. With his help I graduated to medium-well, and now I am proud to order my steaks medium. Yup the girl who liked chared, blackend, dry bits of shoe leather, now wants to see pink.

But I overcooked it...still edible, but he would have told me I ruined a perfectly good piece of beef and had a mock funeral, fist shaking to the sky, crying out "WHY?" reaction to my dinner last night. Well if he was here, he'd have made amazing steaks, and I would have stuck to the sides and a salad like always. When it came to beef, I was the sous-chef, he was the master.

Another one of the million reasons I miss him, and wish he was still here. I never had to worry about my steak with him at the grill, and I can still see his beaming face everytime we decided to have steak. He'd point all his fingers together (like the child's game....this is the steeple) and exclaim "Exccceeeeellllleeeeennnnnnntttttttt...."

Sigh. I guess I'll stick to chicken for now. That was always when I became the chef. One day down, 364 more to go. Fuck. This really, really sucks. Deep breath. Ok, it royally sucks ass, but such is my life. I wonder if there is a website with recipes for less than 4 servings? Guess I'll go find out.