Productivity is relative.

 

Gentle hugs,

Chels

On losing a parent.

My dad was found in his home on Sunday, August 15, and I found out the following day. When I got the message from the ME’s office, I understood. I didn’t need to check the other message from my Aunt, saying that Dad died. I had just gotten in the car to make a Wendy’s run for my mom and I, and I immediately got back out. I needed to be with my mom. I walked back into her apartment, and blurted out “Dad died.”

Instantly, I was blank. Swiped clean of all motor and brain function. Somehow, I called the ME’s office back, and as the nice but gruff investigator told me he was afraid he had bad news, I found myself getting irritated. I know he was just doing his job, but didn’t he think I knew why the medical examiner’s office would be calling me about my dad? Didn’t he know I needed him to get to the point and tell me what the hell I was supposed to do?

How long had it been since I spoke with him? A couple of weeks. What health problems did he have? Yes, that makes sense. The coroner says hypertensive cardiac disease was the cause. He did tell me what I needed to do, and the office was open 24/7 to calls, and if I had any questions I could call, and I should contact the VA, and a funeral home, and sorry for your loss …

Everything blurs together. I talk to my aunt. The internal bleed my uncle has been suffering from is from cancer (which he now has for the second time in his life,) and they’re waiting on results from the biopsy. They won’t be able to do anything, physically, but they can help financially, and please keep us updated on whatever you decide. We trust you and support whatever decisions you make.

First, the apartment has to be cleaned out. The manager complains to me that the apartment smells, and I need to get the food out of the apartment as soon as I can, and she can give me until the end of the week, if that will help, and we can leave anything we can’t move or don’t want for her guys to move, and sorry for your loss, sweetie.

My husband goes with me the next day, and we can’t get into the apartment, because I’m not listed as an emergency contact. My uncle could come, though, or we could get a letter notarized saying we can enter the apartment. I have the urge to yell at the manager. I calmly say that I wish she’d mentioned this on the phone, and she says she assumed I had a key. I don’t explain that if I had a key, I wouldn’t have needed to call her to ask her all those questions in the first place before driving out there. “Is there anything else I should know,” I had asked. We walk out the door, I curse, and my husband, who now has my sanity in his hands, is calm and collected. He drives us to my aunt and uncle for another 25 minutes or so, and we get the one key my uncle has. We talk to the family. Everyone is sick. Everyone is struggling. Everyone prays for each other. Then, we go back.

I won’t describe the state of the apartment. I will say that it infuriates me that our poor, our elderly, our disabled, and our veterans are treated with such disrespect. We cover our faces with masks and peppermint oil, armed with sprays and scrubs and bags, and I’m numb until I’m suddenly crying over a photo, a handwritten song, a report card from 4th grade. The apartment was never in such a state when I visited before.

It takes us until the end of the week, 4 days total – Tuesday and Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. The neighbors flock and tell stories, give condolences. Most are sincere, a couple debatable. Most are desperate for a microwave, a blanket, a chair, and are you taking that with you? We give. Dad would have given, and we don’t have room in my small car and his small truck to move everything. They give to us. A hug, some tea – are you thirsty? Can we help you move anything? We use trash bags for trash and for keepsakes. We tread a path in the grass from the patio to our parking spaces. We’re an army of strangers, and I’m glad to know they were looking out for him when they could. We left a bed frame, a sleeper sofa, filing cabinets. We pile the rest in our garage for the estate sale later.

Then the funeral home, the cremation. My mom goes with me. We’re not allowed to identify him. We sign papers and hand over checks and cash, and this is much more expensive than I expected for a cremation. I buy a beautiful box for him. I go back for death certificates, for ashes. Ashes are much heavier than I expected.

I create a wreath, a memorial candle, a shadow box. I scan photos, and create online memorials, and notify friends and family. I speak with a pastor who I’ve never met, who was Dad’s pastor, and he says come have church and would you like me to ask the members to bring a covered dish? It’s a potluck memorial in a barn. Then a potluck picnic in a local park the next week. One for one set of friends and family, one for another.

I don’t sleep well. I don’t sit still well. There’s not much time to be still, anyway, and business is an effective distraction. I plan a yard sale. The neighbors ask, can they participate? Is that allowed? Why not. The internet says that “multiple family sales” attract more customers, and we need the money.

The dog seems to think I need extra licks on my face. It makes me laugh.

I zone out, going somewhere that makes up for the lack of stillness and rest. I miss chunks of conversations, paragraphs of things I’m supposed to be reading.

I’m handling this all so well, they say. They couldn’t do it. They’d be a mess.

I don’t tell most of them about the appointment with my new psychiatrist days after it happened, and that he prescribed a drug most often prescribed to people with PTSD and nightmares. It’ll assist the other med I’m taking, he says.

He’s right. And I have a lifetime to grieve.

Traveling through the fog – maintaining order through illness

I’m not necessarily a neat freak, but I do like order. I’m a planner, a note taker, and … a forgetter.

Folks, sometimes the brain fog gets so bad that I just have to laugh. Sometimes I have to cry, too, because it can be so frustrating. There are days when I just don’t know if I have the energy to make one more trip to the other end of the apartment because I forgot one more thing. So, to make it a little easier on myself, I try to maintain some order to my routine, and to our living space.

FlyLady.net is a great resource for developing and maintaining a cleaning schedule, as well as maintaining order in other areas of your life. I have to confess that I’m not able to keep a very regular cleaning schedule with our unpredictable schedule here at the student center, but splitting up chores on different days helps me not wear myself out and end up in extra pain. We are notorious for letting the dishes pile up in the sink since we moved into the center’s intern apartment, which doesn’t have a dishwasher, but every time the dishes DO get done, I think of Fly Lady’s tip to give the sink a clean while I’m at it. It really does make a difference. The sink is already wet, and I already have the scrubber in hand.

I came across this next link on Pinterest this evening, and I think I’ll give it a try. There are tons of printables to use, from meal planning to important contact info, and you can pick and choose which ones you want to use. I’m especially fond of the list for contact information for different service providers. If that can keep me from searching for a bill to find a customer service phone number, I’m all for it! The theory is that if you put all of your important information in one binder, you won’t have to hunt for that info ever again. Unless you lose the binder, of course.

Obviously, if it’s helpful to organize your schedule and important information, it’s also helpful to organize the rooms in your home to keep from having to search for important items. If everything has a home, you’ll almost always know where to find what you need. A while back, I made a key rack for our entryway, because I would spend several minutes each time I needed to leave trying, frantically, to find my keys. So, now I’m in the habit of hanging them up as I walk in the door. If I forget to do it, I don’t put the keys down just anywhere – I walk back to the rack. It’s saved me a considerable amount of time and frustration. While you’re organizing, you can arrange things so that they’re more easily accessible. If you’re vertically challenged like I am, or if you have trouble crouching or bending over, you may consider using an over-the-door organizer. The plastic dollar store shoe organizers work well (you can even cut them in half to hang from smaller cabinet doors in the kitchen and bath,) or you can try any one of these genius ideas:

Take things one area at a time. Not only will it keep you from overdoing it, it will give you a satisfying sense of accomplishment once you’ve finished. Have two or three bags or boxes nearby for trash, recycling, and donations. It’ll keep you from putting anything back that you no longer need or want, and the space will appear less cluttered, which can also keep you from finding what you need.

Once you get to your closets, you may as well do a little editing. Keep those same bags or boxes nearby, but this time for trash, donations, and cleaning rags. Single socks whose mates have been lost to the dryer make great cleaning rags – just put your hand inside the sock and go. My grandmother used socks specifically for furniture polishing, and guess what I loved doing as a kid as a result? (When you’re not cleaning, the sock doubles as a puppet!) For a little help deciding what to keep and what to toss, follow the flow chart below.

Remember to take things one area at a time, and set realistic goals for yourself. It may take you a week, or it may take you a few months to organize your home. The key is to stick with it once you’ve finished! Things won’t be perfect all the time, and you’ll still forget things, but if you maintain just a little more order than you started with, you’ll maintain that much more sanity.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Pet Peeves

I don’t know where the term came from, but “pet peeve” sounds so much cuter than the meaning. Those little, annoying, grating things … to paraphrase some well-written Incubus lyrics, it’s like chewing tin foil.

My list of pet peeves is pretty small. It used to be bigger, but then I grew up, and all that angst and anger at the world started to fade. I’ve always been a “why can’t we all get along” kind of girl, anyway. So, short as the list may be, here it is.

1. People who have a blatant disregard for rules, or think that they don’t apply to them.

Obviously, this one isn’t black and white. Rules can and should be bent or broken when the need arises, but all in all, rules are pretty important. It especially bothers me if someone is breaking a rule that’s meant to keep people safe. The teenager riding his skateboard the wrong way down the middle of a street lane, for instance, got a honk and a call to 911, because his response to my honk made it clear that he didn’t intend to stop. It especially, especially bothers me if the person doing the rule breaking is older than a teenager and should know better and who’s brain development and hormones should have leveled out enough by now to control the impulse even if they do know better. Obey traffic signs, please, people.

2. Loud snorting.

This one is much more specific. There are not many things that make my stomach churn, but snorting makes the list. I’m not talking about cute, funny snorts as the result of a laugh, or a sniffle with a cold. I’m talking that deep-down, sinus rattling, loogie inducing, why the heck is that necessary snort. You obviously have an unbalanced mucus to sinus cavity ratio and are in serious need of some Flonase or Mucinex. Please seek help.

3. When people say they “hate” something every few minutes.

If you’re agreeing with me about how bad something is, and you say, “Yeah, I hate that,” ok (and thank you for agreeing with me.) If you really, truly dislike something, hate is a nice, descriptive word to get your point across. If you hate everything and nearly everyone, however, and feel the need to voice it constantly, we cannot be friends. Even if you’re just saying you hate them when you really don’t. People who say they love everything may be annoying, but it’s much better than hating everything. Hate. Ick.

4. That I can only hear one or two notes of the music you’re playing in the other room or car.

I get it. You’re enjoying playing or listening to one of your favorite songs. I LOVE music. However, when it’s loud enough that I can hear it across a building, or on the road with all windows rolled up, but not loud enough so that I can hear most of the notes/beats, it drives me up a wall. Hearing the same one, two, or three notes out of an entire song is maddening. Even if I know the song, and can substitute what I can’t hear in my head. Bonkers, I tell you.

So, that’s about it. Nothing else I can think of has a big enough impact to mention. What are your biggest pet peeves?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

 

 

How Etsy saved my life.

Ok, ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but Etsy has made a bigger impact on my life than it (they?) realizes.

Any of you who have been following along probably realize that I’m creative to a fault. I’ve always been this way – I blame my mom. In a good way! Most of my friends, though – not so much. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are talented and creative, but they have day jobs. For a long time, so did I. A few years ago, though, after I’d lost one job, quit another because of a move, and was finally let go from the third job (which I really didn’t like, anyway,) my mom, who had already been selling on Ebay for years and years, and I decided to open up an Etsy shop and call it a day. I started making our presence known on the boards to get familiar with some of the Etsy community, and started making treasuries (think pinterest board but with a limited number of items,) which means I had to search for specific things, which lead me to sellers that will always have a place in my heart because of their amazing talent.

Then, the site changed, and suddenly teams were more accessible, because there was a larger number of them. People were fighting to keep the communities they’d already established alive, seeking each other out and sticking together. I searched for people in my area, and found the “Etsy817” team, a group of mostly women from the 817 area code. I realized exactly how many people there are just down the street from me who do exactly what my mom and I do – they make stuff all the time. I love Etsy teams for their diversity. Some just meet daily online to chat about life and business and promote each other, some get together occasionally to socialize and craft together, and others do all of that, plus they have regular meetings, do shows together and put on events together. Etsy 817 is the last kind of team. Of course, there are the members who can’t make it to a lot of the meetings and events, and that’s okay. There’s a core group of us who usually show up and participate in whatever project we’re working on at the time. We also see each other outside of meetings, because we’ve gotten close like that.

That’s me in the upper left corner, cutting Chris’s head off with a giant pair of scissors (while she stabs me with a jumbo pencil!)

What I thought was going to be another independent venture into the world of arts, crafts, and design has turned into a really supportive group adventure. While we’re all doing our own thing in terms of our businesses, we’re doing it together. I’m not afraid to ask a “stupid” question around these women. They’re awesome, and they get all of the little quirks and weird things that go along with being creative. This, it turns out, is exactly what I would need when my health got worse and I became inclined to isolation. Between my mom and my Etsy friends, I’ll never be alone. They all know about my and my mom’s health problems, and they’re so understanding – some of them have chronic health issues of their own.

Please take a look at my friends’ shops, listed here. Our team members sell everything from graphics and traditional art to jewelry and vintage to soap and custom ballgowns … you get the picture! You’re likely to find something that you can’t live without (or at least don’t want to live without.) It’s retail therapy, without the retail and the walking.

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Today’s song.

After a long, partially relaxing and partially very busy weekend, it’s off to work I go. We have a show in a month, which needs a booth setup and things to fill it, so, as I told Tom, I’ll be locking myself away in my “office” (also known as the entire apartment, even though I really do have an office.) Today I’m listening to the sweet guitar and vocals of the perpetually sensitive William Fitzsimmons. If you like chill music, you’ll like him. It only helps that he’s been through so much in his personal life. As he says, he’s “one of the few and unproud” men who’s suffered anorexia, and he also has obsessive compulsive disorder. Thank God he likes to overshare, because his music is better for it.

“Beautiful girl/let the sunrise come again … you will get better.” I hope your Labor Day weekend was relaxing, safe, productive, or whatever else you wanted it to be!

Gentle hugs,

Chels

The new normal. (How not to torture yourself with unrealistic expectations.)

When you adjust to a life change that limits your physical and mental abilities even slightly, it takes patience. For a recovering perfectionist and independent like me, it’s a sometimes excruciating process.  So, I’d like to share some things I’ve learned so far.

1. Your new normal. In most ways you’re the same person, but, let’s be real, there are things you can’t do that you used to be able to do. It may be a sport or a technical skill, or it may be something as simple as enjoying a night out with your friends. The key is not to compare your normal to anyone else’s, or, perhaps more importantly, your old version of normal. If you need to make your goals and achievements smaller, that’s okay. It doesn’t make your accomplishments any less significant! If all you can manage to do today is get out of bed, brush your teeth, and take a shower, then you’ve done three things, and you should be proud. Those three things could be the equivalent of running a day’s worth of errands during your old normal.

2. Be honest and patient. Some people will understand and try to adapt to your new normal, and others might get frustrated or take it personally that you aren’t able to spend as much time with them or do the things you used to do together. Be as honest with yourself and your family and friends as you can. Explain to them what your limitations are now, and why. Just like you’re expecting them to have patience with you, have patience with them if they forget you can’t do something, or if you’re left out of an event because they just assume you wouldn’t be able to do it. They may not feel what you feel, but they’re going through this process with you, and, hopefully, trying to adapt.

3. You may lose a friend (or two.) It’s sad, but usually losing a friend over your illness has a silver lining. Not everyone you know may be emotionally capable of seeing you go through what you’re going through, in which case you’d spend the majority of your time and energy comforting them instead of taking care of yourself, anyway. It could also be that they were just a “seasonal” friend, or maybe not a good friend at all. If their friendship depends entirely on what you give them and not on what they can give to you, then, again, you could spend all your time and energy trying to keep up that dynamic, even if your health suffers for it. Remember that people handle stressful situations differently. That doesn’t make them bad people, just different, and you both may be better off going your separate ways.

4. Best buds. Just like you may lose someone you love, you’ll probably figure out which of your friends will stick by you no matter what. You may also form strong relationships with people you may not have been close to before. Someone may struggle with a similar illness, or they may really love staying inside and being a homebody – something you may have to get used to if you’re a person who likes to go out a lot. Be open to new friendships!

5. Body language. If you weren’t aware of your body before, now’s the chance to practice listening to it. I still have a tendency to overdo it on days that I feel better, but then I pay for it later. Understand how you need to treat yourself in order to prevent flares or unnecessary pain, and you’ll save yourself a lot of grief. Manage your time wisely, and spread out chores and responsibilities if you can. For instance, do one type of cleaning for 10-15 minutes a day, rather than cleaning your whole home at once.

6. S.O.S. When you learn how to listen to your body, you’ll learn that sometimes all the time management and pacing yourself doesn’t quite do the trick. You may have enough energy to go to the store, but you may not be able to carry all of the groceries. Ask an employee to load your car, and ask a friend or family member to help you unload when you get home. Believe me when I say that it’s not worth your pride to hurt yourself. Usually, the people who want to be there for you feel helpless when it comes to your illness, and asking for their help can benefit them just as much as it benefits you. As a friend at church said to me once, “Don’t deny someone a blessing by refusing their help.” If someone offers to help when you need it, just say yes.

What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned while coping with your illness?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Touch

Touch is so important. Studies have shown that children who don’t receive physical touch develop literal skin hunger, and suffer from psychological effects. While I like my space, I grew up in an affectionate family, and I’m happy to give hugs and hold hands. It’s why I got my massage therapy license – I know how much touch can do to heal wounds people don’t even know they have.

It’s not uncommon for people to cry during a massage treatment, not because of physical pain, but because of the emotional release that can come with physical contact. I truly believe that we’ve created such busy lives for ourselves that we haven’t created time to recognize and honor our own emotions. It was a privilege to be a massage therapist while it lasted. Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with FM during the middle of school, and while I stubbornly finished my internship, took the certification test, and went on to massage professionally for several months, it proved too strenuous for me. (Massage therapy is on the list of the top 10 most physically strenuous professions.)

So, I practice what I’ve learned on myself, my husband, and occasionally my mom. One thing that my mom and I have always practiced is acupressure. My knowledge of the subject isn’t extensive, but I’ve helped more than one friend get rid of a headache using pressure points. If you’d like to try it yourself, here’s an easy to follow chart to try on your left hand:

The general suggestion is to hold the point firmly for 7-10 seconds.

For more info, visit webmd.com.

Massage and acupressure are considered medical treatments, and, as with any other treatment, you should consult your doctor before trying it. If you have arthritis, tumors or cysts in the massage area, cancer, or if you’re pregnant, you may want to avoid massage or acupressure altogether. (Massage has been linked to, but not proven to cause, contractions and early labor in pregnant women.)

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Grief and pancakes.

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Oh yeah, and large amounts of bread-y breakfast foods.

Today is the first official day of our 2-week break from the Tri C (even though we still need to clean it,) and my husband from school. Not from life, of course. Darn it.

Tom finished his last summer final on Thursday, so yesterday he decided to host a humongous pancake breakfast for UTA students here at the center. The pancakes were many. As were the piles of bacon and turkey bacon, plus the giant bowls of a variety of fruits, and industrial sized jugs of syrup. As I’m typing I’m wondering if there are any left over for me to eat for dinner …

Anyway. I helped a bit with the preparation, but my dear husband let me sleep in so that all I had to do was come out and eat with friends. Then I went back inside the apartment to work on some painting and plan a little date for the two of us involving all the spare change I could scrounge. The date included dollar menu items and a beautiful local park. complete with sub-100 degree temperatures!

Breaking from the fun, I’d like to mention that since the beginning of the month (well, really all the time,) I’ve had the death of my aunt looming just behind the everyday thoughts. So, whether I’ve been conscious of it or not, it’s affected my mood and my physical health considerably. Now, since I’m in a flare up, the brain fog has gotten worse, and I can barely even track the day of the week, let alone the actual date.

It’s probably for the best, because today I woke up thinking it was the 10th. Even though I distinctly remember looking at my phone for the date to write on a bill I paid yesterday. Denial is a river in Egypt. So, I woke myself up early this morning to do one of my favorite things (though I’m sure I didn’t appear particularly thrilled with life to my perkier than is natural, morning-happy husband.) I got dressed up! Today’s church luncheon in honor of the ladies of the “Greatest Generation” (nicer than “We’re Not Sure How We Made It This Long,” though I’m sure a few of those witty ladies would appreciate that title, too) was a lovely excuse to wear my newly thrifted green dress. Tom commented that it reminds him of a vintage nurse’s uniform, and I have to agree. I also got to wear the beautiful black Austrian crystal necklace a sweet friend gave me on Thursday. I put on my peep-toe shoes and headed for church, ready for whatever my friends needed me to do, since I wasn’t able to participate in the planning. Ice was scooped into cups and fancy, tearoom style dishes were plated. There were decorations in pink and gold, and couples even brought their Keurig coffee machines to grace the drink table. The honorees were so appreciative, and we were all glad to learn more about them. It really was a beautiful event; a new tradition I hope will be carried on for years to come to honor more women.

After helping with cleanup, I stopped by a few local businesses to leave flyers for next week’s fashion swap. Then I headed home, changed into comfy clothes, sat down, and it hit me. Today isn’t the 10th, it’s the 11th. Mom and I bought some silk flowers a few days ago to arrange and put on my Nana’s grave in honor of her and my aunt, since we don’t have a grave site to visit for her. I called my mom to see how she was doing and to see if she wanted to take the flowers to the cemetery, and we decided we’d do it tomorrow when Tom and I come over for lunch.

It’s all the same when you can’t remember the date, right?

Gentle hugs,

Chels

Undergarments = torture devices

 

Can I get an amen?

Gentle hugs,

Chels