TdJ: My Temper

Ironically enough, I did not not post yesterday on MY TEMPER because I was in a shitty mood, in a severe amount of pain (headache,year-long toothache, and sinus infections as well as fibro noise).  I spent most of the day doing the bidding of the people who live in my house that I support, and what time I did have to my myself, I took OTC pain killers (like I do every day), and I slept.  I actually took a  2 1/2 hour nap, but the older kid woke me up and told me to get up, drive her and her friend to the movies (which I paid for).  I got up, did so, and then lingering, bought a third ticket and went to see a movie by myself.  The husband refused to go to dinner with me Friday night, as being unemployed is exhausting apparently, and then refused to go to lunch or to the movies with me yesterday.  There won't be a fourth invitation.  At any rate, I went to see a movie alone yesterday.  It was fine.  The movie was "Gangster Squad."  It wasn't earth-movingly good, but it was entertaining and I didn't hate any of the characters.  It had an actual plot.  There was some good acting.  (Sorry, apparently, my temper makes me a shitty movie critic.)

So on to temper.  I have quite the temper.  Although, from all accounts, I have earned it.  I've had the great fortune to have been raised by, grown up with, and married into situations where I was the last priority - or no priority - for the people around me.  I learned early to keep quiet, not raise a fuss, be the model child, what everyone wanted me to be.  This was a matter of convenience for them, and set a pretty high bar of being neither seen nor heard as a pinnacle of perfection.  Everyone's needs trumped mine, even as a child.  My sister's sickness, illness, whatever, meant she needed more care and attention.  This created a bonding between her and my mother which, however dysfunctional, will never be broken - and fortunately for me, I am not a part of it.  This is a blessing as it simplifies things for me greatly.  Then my mother's horses, my dad's hobbies, all came before me.  It was perfectly acceptable to go care for horses miles away on a daily basis, but driving me to orchestra practice one a week was a pain in the ass, not to be endured.
All this is in the past and cannot be changed. But it did set the stage for me to enmesh myself with other users, marry a couple of them, and to this day wear myself out doing what they are unwilling, too lazy to do or what they find repugnant.  Like work a job.  Support themselves.  Take responsibility for anything. Plan and cook a decent, balanced meal.  

Much of the time I trudge through my life working 12-18 hour days, occasionally going to an Al-Anon meeting when I can finish work before 6:30PM, and then eating and trying to sleep 2-4 hours between bouts of excruciating physical pain where I wish to be delivered by death - which I find more likely to occur than health insurance or health care I can afford, before I start the day all over again.

Forgive my lack of Pollyanna cheer most days.

Being in physical pain makes me a bitch.  Pure and simple.  Chronic physical pain makes my temper much worse.  My fuse is shorter when I hurt.
This apparently defeats the ideal that was instilled in me from childhood - to be angry, or demand any attention at all makes one imperfect.  Wrong.  Repugnant.  Bad.

Whatever.

I work now with people with disabilities.  I teach a 10-12 hour training at least quarterly on Crisis Prevention and Intervention.  In doing that, I make a huge priority to explain that anger can be a reasonable reaction, and sometimes the only way people can get their needs met.  And that to prevent angry outbursts, maybe we should get to know people and understand their needs.  And help, where we can, to assist them in getting their needs met.  Because then there would be less use or need for anger.  I honestly believe this.

Wish I was smart enough to use it in my own life.

Ah, in 2014, when the government here is supposed to sponsor/offer/promote health care, maybe I will have less of a temper because I won't be in physical pain.  That is, unless the ultra-Conservatives/Republicans who only want the rich to live and the poor to die from lack of health care once again have their way.
Maybe my temper will be lessened when Republicans stop trying to kill us (sorry, maybe some hyperbole there.  What I mean was "stop trying to let us die.").  

Maybe not.

TdJ: Marriage

Today's topic is a loaded gun for me.  So I will try to handle it well and carefully, with the safety on.

I've been married twice.  The first time was out of a sense of guilt and thinking it was what I should do. The second time was out of delusions of domestic bliss which is embarrassing, because I was way too old (34) for any kind of romantic illusions at that point.

In my mid-twenties, I had the urge to procreate.  As an afterthought, I thought I should get married.

Skip ahead almost 10 years later, I had the illusion that I wanted companionship and that marriage would supply that.  Apparently I had learned nothing from the first experiment.

The saving grace from the social experiments of my marriages are my daughters.  I am very happy with them and feel as if they justify my illusions.  However, it is ridiculous for me to have expected anything else from the institution of marriage.  In my experience, marriage does not guarantee companionship, financial security, intimacy, or much of anything else either.  There are those who will say that marriage is one of those bizarre set-ups where you get what you put into it.  That may be true, and I have two responses.  First, kiss my ass.  Second, I have so little left to give when I am doing all the work to support my family and make all financial decisions and handle all crises and issues that befall my family, I have nothing left to give.  Marriage is just one of those things that exhausts me in practice and irritates me in theory.  (And no, I have no desire to hear about your perfect marriage with a working partner.  I've heard that story already.  And no, don't pray for me or my evil heart to be turned.)

Since both the poor victims who have had the misfortune to be married to me are still alive, I am limited as to what I can say about marriage.  Let's just say I am no expert.  And I won't be doing it again.

TdJ: Sleep Habits

I was all set to write about how I never get any sleep.  And this may be true tomorrow and for the rest of the week.  But I snoozed last night from about 9PM until 5AM this morning.  None too shabby.  Of course, my husband and my mother came in and woke me up.  My mother just wanted to give me a newspaper article on fibromyalgia (ironic, since that was my TdJ yesterday and the newspaper article said WAY less than yesterday's bog post), so that was nice.  But Tim came in and woke me up twice.  Once to look at what was playing on my television ("As Time Goes By," I am a sucker for the older BBC stuff} because my mother was watching television in the living room and Tim was suffering from some kind of withdrawal not being lulled by the idiot box for an hour or so.  And then again to tell me that I needed to move my books off the bed so he could put Tara (our 7 year old) in my bed because he had decided that she needed to go to bed right then, that she needed to sleep with me, and if she did not go to sleep, I would be the one to wrangle sleep from her.  Oh, and I forgot about the third time he came in to wake me up.  He had lost his phone and was looking for it.  Said he needed to set an alarm to get up this morning to get the little one ready for school.  He forgets he has an alarm clock on his television which is now less than three feet away from his couch nest.  

Last week I started the week on no sleep at all.  Mainly because of my teeth aching so badly that I could not sleep, but also because of the child's sleep similar trick.  She had slept until 3PM last Sunday because I spent the morning reading and writing, and so she did not sleep at all.  Of course, she came right home on Monday afternoon and went to bed.  No such luck for me, as I was scheduled in five counties and drove home from Richmond (through Madison, Fayette, Scott, Woodford and Franklin counties, if anyone is counting) at almost 7PM Monday night with the windows down, freezing myself and blaring the radio and trying to stay awake to drive....  

I give these vignettes as illustrations about some of the reasons why I don't sleep.  There are more, of course.  

Back in my mid-thirties I was diagnosed with sleep apnea.  I snore.  I stop breathing while I am asleep and sometimes wake myself up when I do stop breathing.  I do sleep much better with a C-Pap machine.  I even have an old one.  Of course, it needs filters, hoses, etc. changed regularly.  I last did this about 4 or 5 years ago.  It cost me over $200.  It was an ordeal.  I had to call around and finally go meet a lady who reminded me of nothing but Mr Rogers' grandmother in a strangely quiet office building.  The room she led me to had a desk or two and several boxes on the floor.  She furtively slid my C-pap hose, a bagged filer and mask shield, all wrapped in flimsy plastic across the desk at me.  

She kept clearing her throat and saying she was nervous, she had never sold to anyone without health insurance before.  I felt illicit.  The entire transaction felt like a drug deal.  At any moment, I thought the Republican proprietary police would burst in and convict me - without trial, of course - of trying to purchase goods and services reserved for the Chosen Americans, lucky enough to have health insurance, running vehicles and Clean Modern Homes.  A fifties nightmare.  

So the sleep apnea is another reason why my quality of sleep is slightly shitty.  When I do sleep, I don't get the sleep "normal" people get.  

Another reason I don't sleep is anxiety.  I think many of my physical problems can be traced back to anxiety.  At the core of my being, I feel like an impostor pretending to be an adult.  Being the only adult in a household - the only working adult who worries about things like working, paying bills, having food, feeding the kids, keeping a roof over their heads, not living in filth, the kids' educations, the kids' health, et cetera - scares the shit out of me.  I know that, no matter what, no matter how sick or bad I feel, no matter how overwhelmed, that I have to get up and pretend to be an adult, ignore my interests, desires, and needs for 12 to 20 hours a day while I go to work.  Once at work, everything is my problem.  Toilets need to be cleaned?  I do it.  Trash need to be taken out? I do it.  Phone ringing?  I answer it.  Filing needs to be done?  I come in on a weekend for a full work day and do nothing but that.  Someone wants to blow off their 4 to 6 to (maximum!) 8 hour day?  I do their work and mine too.  I am the only one not allowed to have an "off" day or a day off.  Back at home, I am an asshole because I work too late.  But I am also an asshole because I don't make enough money to fund the 17 year old's  social life while supporting the husband's cigarette habit while allowing us to live in a palace.  I am also an asshole because I bitch about money and feeling overwhelmed.  I also am an asshole because I don't care if the other two adults got to watch their soap opera that day, or what time in the afternoon they decided to get out of bed.  I am also an asshole because when my family gets sick, unless I have at least $50 cash in hand, they have to stay sick and weather it through.  No diagnoses or antibiotics for us.  We aren't Chosen Americans, despite my 60+ hour work week.  

So, you see, I am slightly stressed.  This does not promote good sleep habits.  

I also do all the things you aren't supposed to do.  Fall asleep with the television on.  Keep it on all night.  Read a stack of books and fall asleep with them cascading all over the bed.  Drink too many fluids after 7PM so I can visit the Tinkletorium all night.  Ache with the fibro/toothache/migraine/arthritis/irritable bowel syndrome/gastric hell du jour and not be able to sleep.  Have a kid who sleeps whenever I am not in the house to interact with her so she cannot sleep at night when I am home.  I nap at inappropriate times on the weekends (occasionally).  

When it comes to sleep, I am an idiot.