tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61506478469134453252024-03-13T19:01:32.276-07:00singa song i sometimes don't believeKinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.comBlogger195125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-87166950218938470842014-04-09T19:20:00.001-07:002014-04-09T19:20:55.795-07:00please don't ruin meI am an optimist. Or I used to be. No - I am still. I AM DETERMINED TO REMAIN AN OPTIMIST!<br />
<br />
Here's the thing. I love believing in people. I believe in the romance of second chances. Rose-colored glasses for all! But as I get older, I see the world calls that "being naive".<br />
<br />
The horrible thing is that most of my experiences back this world view.<br />
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To me, this is truly devastating. This RUINS me.<br />
<br />
So much of who I am is wrapped up in this belief - in redemption and grace changing people's lives.<br />
<br />
So . . . if it doesn't change people's lives . . . then - what?<br />
<br />
A few years ago, I was a part of an "intervention" of sorts for a loved one. It was a nightmare. To have to look this person that you would do anything for in the eye and say if they did not do "X, Y, and Z" that you could no longer do anything for them. Of course, that's not a great synopsis of what was said - but still, I felt like a monster. The eyes I looked into were that of someone beholding the cruelest of beings.<br />
<br />
Part of me wanted this method to fail. I wanted ultimatum's everywhere to fail and only endless mercy to prosper.<br />
<br />
But it didn't fail - exactly. It was terrible for awhile. But this person, over time, picked themselves up by their bootstraps. I watched with mixed joy and horror as this "pulling away" motivated my loved one to succeed . . . completely separate from me and my life-changing grace and pardons.<br />
<br />
I'm still not completely sold on this method. It is still the last of resorts in my mind. (One of the many reasons why I would not make a good counselor.)<br />
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I have seen some of that life-altering grace extended, over and over. But it doesn't seem to be "working". The life is not being altered. Will the loved ones be pressed to help at all costs - even the soul-sucking option of pulling away all support in hopes that this person will then stand on their own two feet?<br />
<br />
I understand that we are humans. We are giving second chances to humans. Second chances are being given to us (humans). Of course, we're going to occasionally, if not more so, screw up.<br />
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I suppose, my point, if I have one is that I am scared by the notion that grace is not magic . . . but isn't it? Grace given not in order to motivate someone or to really have any end in sight. Just grace being offered. This must be supernatural, a boon to the soul (both to the giver and the receiver).<br />
<br />
I suppose this unselfish grace - the grace that wants nothing in return for it - can (and sometimes must) coexist with other motivational methods. This kind of grace speaks to our deeper selves, our spirit. Ultimatums (depending on the specifics, I suppose) do not negate the grace that is offered. Right? Right.<br />
<br />
Well I just walked myself right through that thought process - so maybe I would be a good counselor after all.Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-5015565226131047682013-09-08T15:32:00.001-07:002013-09-08T15:32:14.620-07:00Finding ReliefAfter 3 weeks of weird symptoms, I am almost back to baseline.<br />
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To sum up, I've been dealing with decreased appetite, significant weight loss, terrible sleep, dry heaving/vomiting, feeling like there is a lump in my throat that won't go away, and just generalized weakness. At the beginning, I thought this was all just anxiety. It's not my normal anxiety, but I thought maybe I just really did myself in this time.<br />
<br />
However, I did some digging and went to my doctor with reflux as a possible idea. He put me on prescription-strength Prilosec and said to try it for a week and see what happens. I've still got the occasional lump in the throat feelings, which may be just inflammation/damage from the recent acid. I'm also still having to take something extra for sleep, but hopefully not for long.<br />
<br />
I have the option of going ahead and seeing a specialist to see if I need my esophagus dilated (ugh). But we'll just wait and see if that needs to happen.<br />
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I've had the past week off with the original plan to go to Nashville for a songwriter's seminar. But I just didn't feel good about going - even though at the time we thought we had all our business together. It turns out just before my week off, our renter backed out of moving into our rental house and I started to feel really weird/ill.<br />
<br />
I am very grateful that I listened to myself and stayed here. I am very grateful that I am starting to feel better, and that I had some time off to just not work.<br />
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Now I need to re-prioritize some things and figure out how to try to decrease stress and increase some rest and relaxation in my daily life.<br />
<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-23296941947548810222013-09-01T11:18:00.000-07:002013-09-01T11:18:28.715-07:00before the (porcelain) throneI really want to be able to put a positive spin on this post, but I'm just not sure I can do that honestly. It's been a weird couple of weeks. Even since my last post - it's gotten weirder. I've been waking up consistently between 2-5am every night (Ambien or no Ambien). I started dry heaving every morning for a week, which just within the last 3 days turned into vomiting. I've still had almost no appetite, and have probably lost close to 10 pounds (not a good thing for me).<br />
<br />
I thought that this might be side effects from the Cymbalta I started last week, but I've been off of it for 4-5 days. Maybe it is just plain ole anxiety - these things aren't unheard of. But I got my hopes up last night thinking it was GERD or something involving acid reflux. It fit perfectly. Decreased appetite and weight loss - check. Fullness in the throat - check. Vomiting on an empty stomach without nausea - check. So last night I ate some cereal before bed, tried to sleep at a 45 degree angle all night, and took a Zantac before bed. But I woke up at 2am - vomited. Woke up at 6am - vomited. Woke up at 9am - vomited. WHAT IS UP?! I guess it could still be GERD, or a combination of GERD and anxiety - who knows. One thing I know is that I'm not pregnant.<br />
<br />
I have some time off this week, and there are many things I should be working on - but I'm SO tired. I just want this figured out. I feel extremely guilty for being so useless for so long. My husband is having to pick up some major slack. My daughter is probably wondering why I'm no fun.<br />
<br />
I guess the silver lining is I hardly have time or energy to be anxious.<br />
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I have still found comfort in God and for that I am extremely grateful.<br />
<br />
<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-87163749419276467352013-08-23T11:17:00.001-07:002013-08-23T11:17:15.616-07:00faith vs fearWednesday I wrote a blog post about my journey to the doctor and also my journey in faith. But I ended up not posting it - thinking it wasn't "figured out" enough.<br />
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I will say that for the past couple of years, while still believing in God, I have told myself that I don't need to do anything to stay close to His heart. After all, church people can be some of the meanest-hearted people you'll ever meet. So not much church-going here, nor Bible-reading, nor praying, nor any of the things you are told to do as a Christian. And guess what? I wasn't a worse person for it.<br />
<br />
However, the past couple of weeks, my anxiety/fear has had me in turmoil. I've been almost debilitated by thoughts of something happening to my child or my family or me. As a hospice nurse and a nurse at a long term care facility for children, I am no stranger to death and dying. But lately, I hear something in passing about an accident or something on the news, and I completely spiral into a very creative hypothetical situation that I assure myself would be the end of my rope. The thought of dying really scared me. Not just dying, but not knowing how I'm going to die. Basically fear of the unknown.<br />
<br />
But Wednesday I prayed. I prayed to feel God's presence and peace. I prayed for strength and wisdom. I prayed for comfort for a family that has weighed heavy on my mind - their oldest child has been battling cancer for 9 years and it looked as though they had run out of options.<br />
<br />
I don't know a lot of things about God. But I do believe that though we may not see God do physical miracles, healings, and works - I believe He helps to heal hearts.<br />
<br />
Today I learned that the boy I have been praying for died last night. I can't imagine what the family is feeling, but again I prayed for God's peace and comfort for them. And I had the strangest thing happen. Instead of spiraling into "what if's" about my child and my family going through the same situation, I pictured this boy restored in Heaven and I smiled.<br />
<br />
Do I still fear the unknown? Yes. But I am so glad I can gain peace and comfort in praying to a God who helps heal hearts. Peace that passes all understanding - that's what I want so badly.<br />
<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-28483140985297663412013-08-18T16:49:00.002-07:002013-08-18T16:49:28.243-07:00Baby StepsMy 3-day weekend ends tomorrow. I'm pretty positive that is a good thing. I've had nothing but time to let thoughts spiral. It's still been a positive weekend, because I've learned a lot about how to go forward. I've been trying to make proactive decisions, not just avoiding things. Last night on a whim, Steven and I took Davie to a citywide family-friendly gathering at the park. I don't do a lot of things in groups without planning, so this was a good step for me. We had a great time.<br />
<br />
I slept well last night and set my alarm for 8am. I got right up, got dressed, and the family went on a long walk in the neighborhood. I tried to schedule in little doable events throughout the day. Yes, one of those events was to lay in the hammock. But another one was to take a yoga class at the YMCA. Davie and I went to the grocery store. I played guitar and did puzzles with Davie in between.<br />
<br />
I haven't been eating much this weekend, and I confirmed at the gym what I suspected - weight loss, fairly significant for such a short span of time. So I've also been trying to eat little bits throughout the day.<br />
<br />
Today I haven't had any panic attack symptoms. I know I shouldn't be keeping score of that. I have had some mild-moderate symptoms of anxiety - a near-constant chest tightness/lump in throat/pounding heart thing. Everything checks out with my nurse gadgets - blood pressure and heart rate are normal, so I'm not that worried about it. I just tell myself "Isn't it interesting how in tune you are with the normal functions of your body right now? Your heart always beats at this rate, but you can feel it right now because your senses are heightened in anxiety. Your chest feels tense when you are carrying anxiety. It's interesting how that lump in your throat doesn't keep you from breathing normally and efficiently or swallowing food and drink." And when I say these things to myself, those things start to subside a bit more.<br />
<br />
So all in all, I'm looking forward to my work week. I'm also looking forward to setting up an appointment with my doctor to fill him in. I'm not currently on a routine anti-anxiety med - I just have Xanax to use when I need it. I try not to use it unless it really feels like an emergency. For example, I haven't used even one this whole weekend. I've probably used one in the past 4 weeks. I'm not against medication. I'm just against side effects and withdrawal symptoms. I might also ask him if he can check my thyroid levels. There's still a little part of me that would like to be able to say, "OH! It was only an overactive thyroid. That explains everything!" But I know what I've been learning this weekend can help me in any situation, and that if this is just truly anxiety, I can overcome.Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-81882652667972811472013-08-17T15:50:00.001-07:002013-08-17T15:50:06.713-07:00Paper Tiger<i>Face. Accept. Float. Let time pass. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>If you do this, you will recover. </i><br />
<br />
<i> -from Hope and Help for your Nerves by Dr. Claire Weekes</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
I went to sleep later than usual last night, but with some help from my local pharmacist, I slept peacefully. I laid in bed for a long time this morning. I had nothing more to do, so I just laid in bed and read and thought and . . . brooded. I was actually reading a chapter that was telling me to NOT lay in bed in the morning. Emotionally/mentally, I had a rough start to the day. Again, I felt like I was on the verge of an all-out panic attack - like if I just let my mind wander to the wrong subject, it would be over.<br />
<br />
Then I read an excerpt that said - yes, rest is important, but equally so is occupying yourself. NOT brooding. This is a hard thing to reconcile for me, being an introvert. I really like to be by myself and to be sitting still, but apparently it sometimes makes anxiety worse. So instead of wallowing in bed, I went with the family on a short bike ride and then to the bookstore. By the time we got back, I was feeling physically worn out, but mentally/emotionally stable.<br />
<br />
Today I tried to follow the 4 instructions from the book. When I felt a weird physical symptom that sometimes accompanies a panic attack, instead of distracting myself or fleeing the situation and instead of worrying about what came next and next after that, I FACED it. I told myself, "Your left foot feels cold and prickly. This is because of the adrenalin in your system. Isn't that interesting? Nothing bad is going to happen because your foot is tingly. If you wait a little while longer it will go back to normal." And guess what? It did! None of the other symptoms that usually follow even got started. Those physical symptoms were just paper tigers.<br />
<br />
Now, I must remind myself, if for some reason in the next day, week, month, or year, that symptom leads to another symptom - that it is okay. I will still face it. I will accept it. I will float through the process and let time pass, until it is over. Then my body will be less and less sensitive to those physical symptoms.<br />
<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-67159189911860721742013-08-16T11:22:00.000-07:002013-08-16T11:22:14.870-07:00Fight or Flight?Last summer, I came home one morning from working the night shift, to someone robbing my house. My husband was out of state, and my daughter was staying with my sister.<br />
<br />
I am an enigma. I can be so irrationally anxious about silly things, but then when a car is backed into my driveway - I automatically assume they are just waiting for a neighbor. I almost made it into the house, when Burglar A honked the horn to alert Burglar B of my arrival. Long story short, when it came down to it, my body went Fight instead of Flight.<br />
<br />
Looking back, it was a comical scene. Me reaching through the open window of their getaway car, and shaking this man's shoulder yelling "HEY! What are you doing?!?!" over and over again - and him slapfighting my hand away like a middle school girl. Me diving at his horn and honking it incessantly trying to alert my neighbors, and him peeling out of my driveway nearly taking me with him.<br />
<br />
All this to say, I've got my modes flipped. That situation would have been better fitted to Flight. Run back to my car, call the cops, be safe. But my body didn't do that for some reason, and it could've cost me a lot more than a sore arm.<br />
<br />
Then there are situations like this morning, riding in the back of my own car with my own little family to take my daughter to her first day of kindergarten. Something about the situation caused me anxiety. Maybe it was that we HAD to take her to kindergarten - meaning it wouldn't have been okay for me to not go, or to have a panic attack in the backseat. Apparently the only necessary ingredient for panic attacks, is a situation/environment where it would be really inconvenient to have one. Boom- you got yourself a panic attack.<br />
<br />
At that point, I felt like the only thing that could make the terror subside, would be to get out of the car, run through a field, or to turn around and go home. Flight.<br />
<br />
I don't think Fight is the answer either though. I think I'm supposed to Float. When I feel those symptoms starting up, I'm supposed to acknowledge it and Float until it's over (a VERY difficult thing to do), and then congratulate myself when it's over.<br />
<br />
I've been reading a book over this whole subject. The book said this may get worse before it gets better, because of the amount of focus put on the problem as you are reading and trying to work through it. I didn't realize to what extent. I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to take a nap on a day when I have literally nothing to do, because I snap awake after 30 seconds with my heart racing.<br />
<br />
Part of me really wants to go back to what I was doing. Making all my decisions based on avoidance. I was a happy little introvert who said "no" to almost all social engagements. Maybe if I were an extrovert, I would be more motivated to work through these issues. But I've convinced myself that I don't like to do certain things . . . when it may be that I am just afraid. But the part of me that loves my husband and daughter says I have to keep trying.<br />
<br />
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<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-74169961936735170262012-07-22T06:16:00.001-07:002012-07-22T06:16:26.172-07:00death, gratitude, school pranks, dark humor"Kinsey? She's gone." My mother says calmly over the phone.<br />
<br />
"Okay. I'm coming over." That's it.<br />
<br />
I remember walking in to my grandmother's house, MY house, and floating by familiar faces and some faces I hadn't seen for ages. My mom comes to hug away my stoicism, but I stand firm.<br />
<br />
"Can I see her?" I ask.<br />
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"Yes. She's in her bed, peaceful." She starts to walk me back to her room, the room I spent much of my recent days, and nearly all of my nights.<br />
<br />
"Can I spend some time alone with her?" She nods and lets my hand slip out of hers.<br />
<br />
I go into my grandmother's room and close the door. I turn to look at her, my sleeping baby grandmother. I walk around and crouch down between the two twin beds that we used to share. I touch her hair and start to cry. "Thank you" is all I can say. Over the past two years, I had accepted gratitude and respect for the care and time I gave to my ailing grandmother. I had often stood on my own little pedestal for this "sacrifice". But now, all I can do is say "Thank you. Thank you so much Mimi. Thank you. Thank you."<br />
<br />
This woman completely changed the course of my life, my career, my marriage, and my family. The two years I spent caring for her were equally the best and worst years of my life so far. Of course I was thanking her for all of these things and for all the ways she blessed us growing up, but it was more than that. It was simpler than that. I was thanking Someone for giving me her. I was thanking her for being so wonderful, so easy to laugh, so generous.<br />
<br />
I don't know how long I'm there. I can't stop playing with her hair and putting my cheek against her petal soft cheek that is growing ever cooler. At some point, my sister peeks into the room. I move aside to make room for her near Mimi. She sidles in and kneels down beside her. I sit on the bed and bow in silent reverence. After some time, I hear her whisper my thanks to Mimi. I suppose verbatim isn't such a coincidence when you are just saying "thank you" repeatedly. It's simple really, but it says something about this woman when the last words people leave her with is "thank you".<br />
<br />
"Do you still believe in Heaven?" My sister asks me.<br />
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I answer without hesitation, "I do right now." My sister smiles and starts to tear up.<br />
<br />
"I don't know about the place we learned of at church camp, but I know that Mimi IS. I know that she just still IS. That's all I need to know." Kristen is just nodding and nodding and nodding. We hold each other for awhile.<br />
<br />
"I need to call and let my professors know I'm not going to clinicals tomorrow. I had to call last week because of our other family issue. They are going to think I make this stuff up."<br />
<br />
Kristen smiles and adds in her best uppity voice, "Oh yeah, your grandma died this time. Didn't someone different ALMOST die last week? Is your dog gonna get sick next week?" We are both laughing.<br />
<br />
"I could take a picture beside my dead grandmother holding up today's paper like the terrorists do. That would show 'em. But then I'd probably get kicked out for a whole other range of issues." We can't stop laughing and adding in other possibilities, becoming more and more inappropriate.<br />
<br />
Kristen says, "Are we okay with this morbid humor because we are nurses?"<br />
<br />
"I think we're okay with it because it's healthy for us. Mimi would be cracking up laughing at us right now too."<br />
<br />
"She would. She so would. You're right."<br />
<br />
"God I loved that woman." A pause. "I guess we should go mingle or whatever."<br />
<br />
I ootch Kristen out the door first, and turned to Mimi and said, "You jipped me. I wanted to be here, sleeping beside you. You jipped me."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-57368129112263699172011-10-13T07:16:00.000-07:002011-10-13T07:25:11.866-07:00To Worry or Not To WorryThis morning I buckled Davie in to her little bus seat for her first field trip to the zoo. Leading up to this event, I wondered if I should rearrange my schedule and go with her. I like to experience her experiencing things. I told myself I was worried about her getting lost or lonely or something . . . but chances of that happening are very small. <div><br /></div><div>Davie loves a loner. She will hug the shy girl. She will talk to the new kid. But in groups, she IS the loner. I don't think she gets many opportunities at school to be with one other child, to make one friend at a time. I get the feeling that she is very quiet at school. So I think this will be great for her to go in small groups to a place that she loves and chat excitedly. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think that kid is going to be A-OK. Not just today, but in general. She is self-sufficient, kind, and imaginative. What more could one ask for!</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-11070172793264094472011-08-19T19:57:00.000-07:002011-08-19T20:10:28.345-07:00An Interview with Miss Davie Lucille<b>I'm going to ask you some questions. Okay? </b><div>Okay.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What is your name?</b></div><div>Davie.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>How old are you?</b></div><div>This many. (holds up 5 fingers)</div><div><b>No, you're not. </b></div><div>I'm three. (holds up 3 fingers) What's <i>your</i> name?</div><div><b>My name is Kinsey.</b></div><div>and you're three days old. Can I give you a kiss?</div><div><b>Yes. (kiss)</b></div><div>I'm sorry (strokes my arm)</div><div><b>Why are you sorry?</b></div><div>Cause I'm being really really ugly.</div><div><b>I don't think you were being ugly at all.</b></div><div>I was. And I will. And I'm really really sorry. (another kiss)</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>Okay. What is your favorite color?</b></div><div>Green.</div><div><b>What green things do you like?</b></div><div>Ummmm. I like . . . pink.</div><div><b>Okay. What do you like that's pink?</b></div><div>Ummmmm. Toys.</div><div><b>
<br /></b></div><div><b>What is your favorite food?</b></div><div>STRAWBERRIES! (I actually think she thought about this for the pink answer, because strawberries aren't her favorite food.)</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>Who is your best friend?</b></div><div>Ummmm. Harper and Max! Harper is my favorite friend and Max is my favorite friend too. Harper is my favorite best friend at my school. It will be so nice if I give her a hug.</div><div><b>That's true.</b></div><div>I love you. I love you.</div><div><b>I love you too. You're very sweet.</b></div><div><b></b>(as I am trying to ask another question she says...) Look at my eye. Look at my eye. </div><div><b>They are very pretty. What do you want to be when you grow up?</b></div><div>A chicken! (laughter) or a cow! (more laughter)</div><div><b>That's silly.</b></div><div>Mommy, I want to be an animal? or a ghost.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What is your favorite thing to play?</b></div><div>With Scout.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What is your favorite animal?</b></div><div>Um. A little giraffe.</div><div><b>I like giraffes too!</b></div><div>But you like a big giraffe and I like a little giraffe.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What is your favorite word?</b></div><div>Um, I don't know.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What is something that mommy says a lot?</b></div><div>Um, GIRAFFE! (laughter)</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What do you dream about at night?</b></div><div>Ladybugs (she has said this every single morning since we started asking her about a year or more ago). They will hurt me.</div><div><b>No they won't. They're friendly.</b></div><div>But they tickle my hand.</div><div><b>Yeah, but that doesn't hurt.</b></div><div><b></b>It just tickles.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><b>What does mommy dream about?</b></div><div><b></b>Cows. (she has also given this as my answer for the same amount of time)</div><div><b>What does daddy dream about? (I already knew what was coming)</b></div><div>A clock! . . . but he should dream about animals.</div><div><b>What kind of animals?</b></div><div>A giraffe!</div><div><b>We're on a giraffe kick.</b> </div><div>
<br /></div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-26184547225926480842011-06-02T09:04:00.000-07:002011-06-02T09:20:55.577-07:00Things of June1. We officially moved out of our house in OKC. We are renting it to some friends for awhile. After all, we have been living here at Mimi's in Norman for months now. But we went from nothing moved out (not even in boxes) to everything moved out in 24 hours . . . or I should say, Steven did. I couldn't break away from Mimi's to help, so he basically did it all by himself!<div><br /></div><div>2. Davie and I both start school next week. I'm starting the nursing program at OCCC. It will be 10 months of intense learning. I'm a little nervous about the schedule since I seem to have lots of responsibilities these days outside of school. I'm excited for Davie to start school because we enrolled her in the sweetest little hippy nursery school I've ever seen. She will get to go with her cousin Harper this summer before Harper starts Kindergarten at public school. Davie is going to love it.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Our 6th anniversary is coming up on the 11th. I gave Steven an early present because he was having a terrible week. I'm a sucker that way. I gave him an iPad . . . he thinks they are the coolest things ever. And they are, but I'm among the camp that they are kind of impractical. I mean it's just a giant iPhone. We'll see what he thinks after a few weeks.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Father's Day is this month. I got my dad a puppy. I got Steven (well, I can't say yet, because I haven't given it yet). </div><div><br /></div><div>5. My appointment with the Rheumatologist is this month. Eh. I don't feel anything in particular about this, so we'll just see what happens.</div><div><br /></div><div>6. I feel like everything is hanging in the air. I'm looking into the future and trying to see when things will settle down, but I think this is just life. Although mine is considerably more complicated than the average Joe America right now. Our living situation is . . . how you say . . . interesting. </div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-57378888065827915932011-05-05T07:25:00.000-07:002011-05-05T07:30:12.150-07:00Lupus is for Lovers.About a week ago, a nurse called and told me that my bloodwork came back and my ANA was positive. <div><br /></div><div>I had no idea what she was talking about. I went in to the doctor because I was having frequent joint pain. He ordered some bloodwork but said it was mainly to rule out Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis. I guess the ANA is one of the first diagnostic tests for Lupus and other autoimmune disorders. I know a handful of people that have Lupus and they say that the symptoms are really, really annoying . . . but not debilitating. So that is good. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways, I meet with a rheumatologist in June for more tests. For now, it's kind of nice to know that it is actually something and not just in my head. On the other hand, it's also not nice. It seems like I've had some amount of joint pain every day since they called. But the good news is it doesn't really get worse with activity or rest, it just stays the same . . . so that is no reason to lay around in bed all day. Although, it is a reason to lay in bed all day if you are really really tired . . . which I am right now. Good night.</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-47768259564484098242011-04-29T08:49:00.000-07:002011-04-29T09:12:40.038-07:00Til Death Do Us Part?<div>I found a bunch of old songs I had written in college and a little after. Wow. I was a mess. It's like reading through my diary. Anyway, I found this specific song that I had written in the first year that Steven and I were married. I remember playing it for Steven in our living room and really thinking this was the beginning of the end for us. We were realizing how different we were from each other, and from what we thought the other one would be. It seemed like we wanted so very different things. I'm not sure specifically what we did to stay together. But we did. And I am glad. So glad. Today there are still echoes of that first year. Steven wants to go go go, I want to stay stay stay. Steven has expectations A, B, and C . . . and I have expectations X, Y, and Z. But ultimately we are at least on one page that is the same . . . we want to be together, and that makes all the difference. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have some distant friends that have gotten a divorce. It seemed to be a mutual and calm decision. They wanted different things. They didn't want to hold each other back from achieving those things, so they let each other go. On one hand, I understand that feeling. On the other hand, I wonder what they cheated each other out of by separating themselves. Anyways, it reminded me of this song I wrote.</div><div>__________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>til death do us part</div><div>but how long, how far?</div><div>guess you don't think about those things</div><div>when you are sampling the cake, and ya got a diamond ring</div><div>here we are just a few months later</div><div>and you feel like we are just falling apart</div><div>well you got dreams, and i got things that i could be doing now</div><div><br /></div><div>young love is so short-lived</div><div>if you do not make it grow</div><div>we cannot be one if</div><div>we can't let each other go</div><div><br /></div><div>the bitter taste of second and third loves</div><div>like day old coffee in a new white mug</div><div>the dull ache of being resented</div><div>these are the sights and sounds of an everlasting love?</div><div>here we are, how did we get here</div><div>we followed all the plans and the wisdom of the age</div><div>discontent with others dreams</div><div>my desires can't be heard and can't be seen</div><div><br /></div><div>so spread your wings and go where you want to </div><div>i'll let you know what i need</div><div>we gotta go, we gotta try it</div><div>these are hungers we can't refuse to feed</div><div>cause i refuse to realize later</div><div>when i'm 75 laying in my bed</div><div>that i did not do all that i could and all that i wanted</div><div>with my life, and i can't blame you</div><div>__________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>See? A mess. Wow. </div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-83831197437125487792011-04-17T12:27:00.000-07:002011-04-17T12:48:17.300-07:00Failure?I'm going to admit something to you (whoever that is). <div><br /></div><div>I feel like a failure for one main reason - because I am pursuing something other than teaching. It doesn't matter than I am now pursuing another very important career path. I wanted to teach for as long as I can remember, went to 4 years of very expensive school to teach, and then taught for 3.5 years. <div><br /></div><div>But the truth is there were so many really really hard days. Then there were days when I just didn't like it (not because it was hard, just because). Then there were these shining days of glory that made it all worth it. Then there were just happy, normal days. I guess this can be expected from any career. </div><div><br /></div><div>I try to justify my career move, by saying that taking care of my grandmother has revealed this inner-nurse in me. That is true, but it is also true that I've been looking for an escape from teaching almost as soon as I started teaching. I feel guilty because I was a good teacher. I'm not bragging, I just was. Not every teacher is a good teacher. Not every teacher is a thoughtful teacher. So I feel like I took a thoughtful teacher out of the mix for none other reason than I wanted to find something new. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are not a lot of careers I can think of that would cause such guilt. Maybe because it is working with children. Maybe because education is important to me. I think it's because, in my mind, I don't think just anyone can replace an individual teacher. It's such a personal job. I don't know. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I've been pursuing this nursing career, I've yearned for teaching again. That's just me, and may not need to be taken seriously. I want what I don't have. Humans generally do. But anyways, I know that I would really genuinely enjoy nursing. I know that it would be a really great investment in my family's life. But I will always have a passion for teaching children. At the same time, I know if I don't follow this pursuit to finish, I will always wonder "what if". I will continuously be looking for that escape from my first complicated love. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think in a sense I get this way around April every year (teacher job hunting time). I scan the school websites and imagine myself teaching in the capacity of the job openings. </div><div><br /></div><div>No matter what, I am endlessly thankful for the time away from the careers that have taken time from my family. I am excited about nursing school. But there will always be a part of me that will feel like a failure as long as I am not teaching in some capacity.</div></div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-86207905872105163512011-04-16T08:46:00.000-07:002011-04-16T08:47:41.259-07:00your momma<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">*I wrote this song yesterday. It is for all the children with terrible parents or terrible childhood memories. It is for my daddy.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">if i was your momma, i'd build you a ladder</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">it'd reach up to the clouds you watch so hard</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">if i was your momma, i'd buy you a thousand books</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">and if i had no money, i'd get you a library card</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">if i was your momma, you'd know that i love you</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">not from guessing, but cause i'd tell you so</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">if i was your momma, you'd know you'd be safe</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">cause i'd come get you anywhere you go</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">but i ain't your momma, i'm just some girl who </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">sees another hurting eye</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">but if i was your momma, and i saw you hurting</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">i'd kick the ass of the ones who made you cry</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">i don't see how a momma could hurt her child so</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">i don't see how a child like you could be anything but loved</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">then again this old world is full of surprises</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">and surprise, here you are doing fine when the push comes to shove</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">you are more than your momma, you are more than your daddy</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">you are more than the bad things that happen as a child</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">you deserve all the goodness, you deserve all the mercy</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica">you deserve all the love from a momma whose love makes her wild</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 18.0px Helvetica; min-height: 22.0px"><br /></p>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-13512899930554486562011-04-12T17:48:00.000-07:002011-04-12T18:01:24.933-07:00The Rare Well-Placed AnxietyI rarely get stressed out. At least not in the same way the masses do. I could be juggling fiery swords on ice skates and feel cool as a cucumber. However, put me sitting in the passenger seat of someone else's car, and I'm totally stressed. <div><br /></div><div>Well, today, the stress of things got to me. There is plenty of stuff going on for me to be stressed about, and I won't name them all. But I will say that I've been caring for my ailing grandmother and growing toddler at the same time for an extended period of time, so my mother could have an extended period of rest (poor lady). Yesterday the proverbial doodoo hit the proverbial fan in certain realms of some of my loved ones' lives. I was fairly cool as a cucumber . . . maybe a cucumber left outside for a few hours on an August day. But then I got not a lot of sleep. And then more proverbial doodoo hitting more proverbial fans. And then started what was thought to be the cleanup of said doodoo, which as you can imagine is the worst part of all. </div><div><br /></div><div>I took a little break to run an errand today while Davie was napping. I needed to run to Lowe's and get some chalkboard paint for one of my projects. In the car I was feeling weepy and a little nauseous. But I held it together. Walking in Lowe's, I must have looked like a crippled old lady. My legs felt like they were going to disintegrate beneath me. I ached so intensely all over my body. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, snap to the present, my hero husband came to take Davie elsewhere for the night, so I could have some solitude and peace. I thought I wanted to finish one of my projects, but now that I'm sitting . . . I really like sitting. </div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-4246202758408086552011-03-23T09:36:00.000-07:002011-03-23T09:42:56.996-07:00I'm not fishing for compliments . . .So, I've been more or less makeup-less for 2 weeks now. At first, it was not fun. I was insecure. I felt naked. I felt ugly. Now I know my looks have not changed that much in 2 weeks, but when I look in the mirror, I do not see ugly anymore.<div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></div><div>One of two things have happened. Either I never was ugly, and only felt that way by comparison of the made up me. Or I was ugly, but forgot how nice I look with makeup on. Either way, it shows how important your own thoughts are. I'm not saying I'll never wear makeup again. But it is nice to not have to put on any kind of mask, and still feel comfortable with myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>So this isn't really a spiritual revelation, but it does symbolize feeling more comfortable with the real me in the non-physical sense. Who I really am. What I really think. Etc. It's been a great couple of weeks. Not much longer to go.</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-38237031478933492932011-03-17T08:15:00.000-07:002011-03-17T08:32:28.824-07:00Happy St. Patty's/Tumorless Tuesday on a Thursday/Happy BADNAP WeekIt's Saint Patrick's Day. I don't really know anything about St. Patrick, so I don't care so much about his day. But I'm wearing green anyways.<div><br /></div><div>It is also Tumorless Tuesday (on a Thursday). Two years ago, I was on a field trip with my 4th graders at the Cowboy Museum. While perusing the gift shop, I checked the messages on my phone. My best friend Lisa had called twice. Actually it was her husband Justin calling from her phone. The first message was to let me know they went to the emergency room because Lisa was having some numbness and other weird symptoms, he said the doctor said it was probably just a bad migraine. Phew. The second message was to let me know they had found a shadow that was most likely a tumor in her brain. Commence world falling apart. Luckily a teacher friend nearby hurried me outside dodging students right and left so I could sob in peace. That same teacher friend called my principal to let her know that my husband was coming to pick me up to take me to the hospital. Steven showed up with Davie who was around 8 months old, and we rushed to the hospital. I walked in the room and crawled into the hospital bed by my friend. Neither of us really knew what to say, so we just laid there, holding hands. The next couple of weeks was just waiting in agony and wishing we could do something. Then on March 17th, the day before her and her husband's birthday, they successfully removed the tumor with no ill side effects. She couldn't drive for a long time after because she was on seizure medication, and she had to have checks every few months to make sure the tumor was still gone. But after a year, there was still no sign of it, and the doctor gave her the go ahead to try and have a baby. So around 9 months ago, they gave birth to a teeny tiny beauty named Layla. I would be awfully lonely without Lisa in this world. I am so thankful that she is healthy and has a healthy family. Happy Tumorless Tuesday!</div><div><br /></div><div>The other news is, I got into the BADNAP program (I honestly don't know what that stands for, but it is the nursing program I applied for). Remember how I was stressed about not getting a notice for the letter. Well it was actually stuck to the inside of the mailbox where you can't see. Haha. Anyways, I am so happy I got in. </div><div><br /></div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-33798137213011367062011-03-15T17:18:00.000-07:002011-03-15T17:44:13.725-07:00Is this a sign?!Okay, so since August 2009 I have taken a "break" from teaching to help take care of my grandmother. It has been a blessing for me (and I very rarely use that word) to get to spend so much time with Mimi and to be able to have Davie around. During that time, I had started to pursue my Master's degree in School Counseling at UCO. I finished one semester of wonderfully interesting classes, when I started to worry about the future in that career. I had really been enjoying giving my grandmother direct care, and decided I would like to pursue a nursing career. <div><br /></div><div>So in the summer of 2010 I started packing on the science prerequisites. Idle Kinsey is a scary thing. I am utterly utterly useless unless I have deadlines and busyness all around. This past semester I haven't taken any classes. I am just waiting to hear if I was accepted to the program at OCCC that will start in June. </div><div><br /></div><div>My grandmother seems to be entering the last stages of her long life. Her blood pressure has been EXTREMELY high consistently for weeks now. We are preparing ourselves emotionally for this, and also financially. She has been my "career" for the past year and a half. And now that is coming to an end . . .</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I should tell you that I have often found myself talking fondly about my classroom days over the past year and a half. It's not something I want to give up completely, although I was glad for the much-needed break. Yet I was excited about a future nursing career. I know it's something I will be good at and something I will enjoy. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Snap to the present! I've heard that this year OCCC accepted all applicants with a 3.0 and up. I would be in that category. I've also heard that many of these accepted applicants got their certified acceptance letters on Saturday. However, 3 mail days later, no letter in my box. Hmmmm. If I am not accepted, it could only mean that one of my classes did not transfer . . . which is very improbable. If I am not accepted, I think I should take it as a sign that I should stop trying to chase a career outside of teaching. Geez! </div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully I will find out tomorrow what the deal is. Then I'll either prepare myself to start the program this summer, or I'll hit the pavement with some resumes heading for the schools!</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-85759628544447514102011-03-11T17:48:00.001-08:002011-03-11T18:07:08.165-08:00PrayerI haven't prayed in a long long time. I mean like a committed prayer. I've kind of handled my relationship with God - sadly - like I've handled my relationship with my husband lately. I coexist, putting forth not a lot of effort. I believe that we love each other . . . but that is the extent of my thoughts.<div><br /></div><div>Steven and I recently realized the pattern that we had fallen into with each other. Busy separate lives, not really doing much life together. We have sense put more purpose into our thoughts and actions involving each other, and it has been so refreshing to wonder what he is up to, to miss him, to need him. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have mentioned that I've been feeling more panicky lately. I H-A-T-E IT! It is sooo hard to live like this. I can't express how I hate that feeling, and worrying that I'll get that feeling, instead of just enjoying my activities. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today I listened to reports on NPR over Japan and the tsunami on the way to Mimi's house. Then after I got there I turned on the news to see Oklahoma up in flames. I started to feel anxious (as any normal person would). I started to actually pray that something amazing would happen, and the fires would be held back from hurting anyone. Honestly, even now, I don't believe in the power of prayer as a decision-changer for God, or that increases His power. I don't know what I believe about it. What I do know is prayer changes the pray-er (eww, that seems like something a Baptist preacher would outline in a Powerpoint). Be it psychological, spiritual, or mystical - when you pray, something changes inside you. For me, it brings a sense of peace. Maybe because when there is a situation where you can do nothing, it makes you feel like you might be doing something. </div><div><br /></div><div>My middle sister Kacey is an atheist. She is open to talking about it, and I love hearing her thoughts about the matter. She mentioned in a conversation awhile ago, that religion is built by cultures out of a need . . . like a coping mechanism. I don't think I disagree. I do believe in God. I just do. Somehow it's hard for me not to. But there are so many things that Christians seem so sure about, that I'm just not sure about. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've decided though that God is a pretty good coping mechanism for me. In that way, He is a Savior to me. I think Kacey would ask me questions about the psychology of that. I would say if you suffered from some painful disease, and you took a pill (that could be a cure, or could be a placebo), and you felt amazingly better, wouldn't you just keep right on taking it? I don't know that I'd care why it was working. I would just be thankful for the pain going away. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is by no means a clear and concise thought process. It's just a spilling out of quasi-revelations. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-11625036860831329652011-03-09T10:34:00.000-08:002011-03-09T11:07:43.926-08:00Ash WednesdayToday is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. I have never truly participated in Lent. In college it became a sort of trendy thing to do. So I'd give up ice cream (easy enough for me). Or I'd give up fast food (extremely hard, but benefits my pocket book). But this will be the first year that I'm trying to really experience Lenten season.<div><br /></div><div>On Monday I attended a meeting extended to all OKC artists to experience the season of Lent and respond in their own art form. At first I was only interested in the art part of it, writing a song out of the experience. I've been in a somewhat "questioning" state for some time spiritually. I still am . . . but that doesn't mean I can't have a truly enlightening experience out of this. </div><div><br /></div><div>I had the stirring thought that this year I needed to give up something that would not be easy and that would not otherwise benefit my life. I didn't want it to just be a little motivation to start living a healthier life, etc. At the meeting I had decided that I would give up make-up for Lent. But then I got home and washed off my war paint. Oy. The squeaky clean face had not seen the public eye since before puberty. That wouldn't do. </div><div><br /></div><div>But it was the most vulnerable I could be. I am still trying to figure out ways to make this natural look work for me. Sunless tanner on my face. Shiny chapstick. I'm afraid I'm not one of those girls who looks basically the same with or without makeup. My eyes need a little definition for me to not look super sleepy. But this is the path I have chosen. </div><div><br /></div><div>I may have to take a little break for a wedding . . . out of consideration for the formality of the event. </div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-14379525571846409502011-03-04T18:39:00.001-08:002011-03-04T18:50:51.795-08:003 things . . . or more1. The panic thing is like one step forward, two steps back . . . or two steps forward, one step back. I've been reading this book, and it's good. It's enlightening. It's logical. The negative is I seem to be thinking about the book and therefore my panicky tendencies more often, which lends to near panic attacks more often. The good news is even though I am feeling those beginnings more frequently, I seem to be getting through them more effectively. But man is it unnerving to have those feelings multiple times a day instead of once a month or so.<div><br /></div><div>2. Some days I really miss . . . teaching? Or maybe I just miss talking about teaching, haha. I miss some of my co-workers from Newcastle. I miss working in a school. I might just miss working in general. Anyways, random thought.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. My husband is a rock star. I am really so lucky to have a husband that people want to create jobs for him so he will work with them. He is SUCH a hard worker, and a good worker. I knew when he came home a few weeks ago and said frustratedly that his position was being switched to contract (not a good thing for us), I just knew I didn't really need to worry about it. And lo and behold, his company is taking care of one of their best employees. I'm glad that his work place appreciates his hard work and commitment, like I do.</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-62990430750062626282011-02-12T08:13:00.001-08:002011-02-12T08:33:02.589-08:00You Can't Tell Me You'd Turn That Down!Imagine this . . . <div><br /></div><div>You LOVE to read. To get wrapped up in another world, another life. Maybe it's in order to take a break from what is going on in your life . . . or maybe it is in order to help you sort through what is going on in your world. Anyhow, you love to read.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now imagine this . . .</div><div><br /></div><div>One day you are visited by a fairy godmother. She says she has been watching over you for some time, and she wants to give you a very personal gift. From behind her back she pulls a magical book. You ask what book it is. She says, "It is any book you like." You open it up and say "Gone With The Wind" . . . and soon the pages are filled with the life of Scarlet O'Hara. You say "The Hunger Games" . . . and soon you are reading about Katniss Everdeen in the arena. You say "Little Women" . . . and soon you are whisked into the budding relationships of four sisters and their Marmee.</div><div><br /></div><div>Your fairy godmother says, "You may take this wherever you like. Whenever you need to find solace or enlightenment in the words that others have written, open this book." </div><div><br /></div><div>You ask, "This is too good to be true. Surely there is some sacrifice I must make in order to have this gift."</div><div><br /></div><div>She waves her wand, and the beautiful book turns into a flat, black panel. "It still works the same way, just without the beauty and sensation of a page. It's the same words, same story. Do you still want this gift?"</div><div><br /></div><div>........ You can't tell me you'd turn that down! </div><div><br /></div><div>It's funny to me that people can be so snobby about eReaders. I found out that J.K. Rowling has all but forbidden her books to ever be released on an eReader. Why? They are on audiobook and major motion pictures. An eReader shows the same words, the same story . . . it encourages people to READ. I love reading a paper book as much as the next guy. But I really love being able to toss my light little Kindle in my purse and whip it out in the doctor's office. I like that on roadtrips, Steven and I can have both of our books on one device and pass it back and forth between driving shifts. I like that since I pack a suitcase twice a week to go to and from my grandma's house, I don't have to worry about finishing up a book and not having another one ready to go. I'm paying for these books, and therefore still supporting the author. I don't see the big deal. I understand that people have personal preferences. If you would rather hold a paper book than a piece of plastic, I don't judge. But I'm just having a hard time understanding this author's decision. </div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-55004868355278738432011-01-30T08:43:00.000-08:002011-01-30T08:52:51.984-08:00What would you like to do?My second "assignment" is to list some things I would like to do which my "condition" now prevents me from doing. I am supposed to list them under some specific headings. <div><br /></div><div>VACATIONS: I would like to be able to go on a cruise. This makes my head spin, but I think if I could get over that it would be fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>SOCIAL LIFE: I would like to be able to be more spontaneous for last minute plans. I think I would be able to spend more time with friends if I could do this.</div><div><br /></div><div>EMPLOYMENT: I want any employment issues to only be issues of my likes and dislikes. I want the agoraphobia stuff to be a non-issue. Meaning I don't want to factor that in to all the other things that you have to decide when you are taking on a new job.</div><div><br /></div><div>HOBBIES: This isn't a huge deal to me. I like reading and sewing and things like that. So that isn't really affected much.</div><div><br /></div><div>ENTERTAINMENT: I would like to be able to go to a movie in a theatre without having that panicky feeling once I get in and sit down.</div><div><br /></div><div>DAY TRIPS: I would like to be able to go with Steven on climbing trips without planning out every possible event.</div><div><br /></div><div>SHOPPING: This is actually not much of an issue either. I am usually by myself or with Davie or with Steven. They are my "safe" people. But I imagine if I am on a shopping trip with other people I would feel panicky. </div><div><br /></div><div>VISITING FRIENDS AND FAMILY: I would like to be able to spend time at other people's houses without needing to go lay flat on the tile in their bathroom and do my breathing exercises. I don't have to do this every time, but it'd be nice if it didn't happen at all.</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150647846913445325.post-35409328959392523582011-01-28T12:46:00.000-08:002011-01-28T13:03:00.506-08:00A New Exercise . . . starting . . . NOW!I had the flu. It wasn't fun. But the worst part was the day or two where I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack constantly. In my mind I had already decided that I would have to quit school, work, everything, and just be panicky. Thankfully, I felt better after awhile, but it led me to research panic attacks and agoraphobia a little bit more. I found a book called "Escape! The Complete Agoraphobia Recovery Course" and decided to work through it. Since it's on my Kindle and there's no good way to document my answers on that device, I also decided I would work through the written exercises on my blog. <div><br /></div><div>The first bit of the book tells the authors story. The first exercise is to describe in as much detail as you can remember the first panic attack you can remember. So here goes.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe it was the summer after my freshman year at OBU. A few of us at church were going to Haiti for a couple of weeks for a mission trip. I don't really remember feeling particularly anxious about the trip in general before. We drove to Dallas and were going to stay the night in a hotel and fly out early the next morning. We went to grab some dinner at a nearby Chili's. I ordered some chicken tenders and had eaten one or two. I started to feel - bad. I felt lightheaded and fuzzy. I was getting really REALLY hot from the inside out. I just needed to get somewhere cool and quiet and lay down. I thought maybe I had eaten something bad, and went to the bathroom, but realized nothing productive was going to happen there. I rushed by our table and said I had to get some air. A friend followed me out to the church van and sat with me while I laid over the curb. </div><div><br /></div><div>The breeze helped but I felt weird all that night. I managed to get through the trip without a nervous breakdown. But I remember avoiding Chili's for quite a while. </div><div><br /></div><div>The author says that agoraphobia is a learned behavior. We have these experiences, and start to avoid and generalize and avoid and generalize, and it reinforces the panic and the avoidance.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is all for now. Not very in depth, and this is more for my own documentation than your insight. Of course if you have any questions or thoughts, I welcome those.</div>Kinseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06933947884985403258noreply@blogger.com2