A Happy Fuzzy Blog

17 Days

It's been 17 days since I got Botox injections for my migraines.  The neurologist who did the shots said they would take effect within 1-14 days.  So have they?

Not so much.  The first two weeks I had just as many migraines as usual, including a couple of really bad ones, but I held out hope, telling myself it could be up to two weeks before it took effect.  But it was two weeks on Monday. 

Tuesday I had a mild migraine that sort of came and went all day.  Not too bad.  Yesterday I had one that started out mild in the morning, but kept getting worse and worse.  I left work shortly after noon and went home and slept all afternoon.  In the evening I felt better than I had, though it wasn't completely gone.  When I woke up this morning, my head still felt like crap, not as much pain as before, but in the postdrome fog, like I just can't make my brain go.  I had breakfast and went back to bed.  I slept for hours, until the phone rang and woke me up.  I'm still in a fog.  I think it's taking me four times as long as usual to write this.  I stare at the screen, and it's like I can't remember what to do.

I really hoped the Botox would work.  Maybe it still will?  Maybe it just needs more time?  Or maybe I need a stronger dose?  Or maybe I'm just one of those people it doesn't do anything for.  I guess I can't say it would really surprise me.  I mean, Imitrex made my migraines worse.  I was really hoping though.

I'm going back to bed.

Where do you want to sit?

I've noticed a disturbing trend lately.  A young couple will board the bus, the young woman first, followed by her boyfriend.  She will start walking down the aisle, and then when she's about a quarter of the way down she'll stop, and turn to him and say, "Where do you want to sit?"  I say now to these young women:

This is rude to anyone who happened to get on after you.  They're just stuck standing until you move.  Just sit down already.

Even if nobody got on after the two of you, often the driver won't move until you're seated, so if you just stand there debating where to sit, you're holding up the driver and all the other passengers.

But while violations of bus etiquette do annoy me, this disturbs me for a deeper reason.  As one woman to another, I really hope you learn this soon for your own mental health: his opinion is not more important than yours.

Where do you want to sit?  You don't need to ask him where he wants to sit.  Just sit wherever there's an empty (whole) seat, wherever you feel like sitting.  He'll sit with you.  If he doesn't, there's something wrong with the relationship.  If there isn't an empty seat, just sit someplace where there are two empty spaces close together.  If he makes you feel like you need to ask his approval for where to sit on the bus or like you're not competent enough to pick out a place to sit by yourself, there's something really wrong with him.  Why are you in a relationship with him?

It's one thing to consult with your partner about things that affect both of you, like where to go for dinner, or is this a nice neighborhood to live in, but it's another thing to always ask your partner where do you want to eat, where do you want to live, and go along with whatever they say like you have no opinion of your own.

If this sounds like a relationship you're in, and you're thinking it will get better, it won't.  It will only get worse.  If he makes you feel incompetent over trivial things or like you need to ask for approval for small things now, eventually he'll be making you feel incompetent over everything and like you need to ask for permission before you do anything. You'll wonder how you ever got hooked up with such a maniacal control freak.  Get out now while it's still relatively easy.

Or maybe your relationship isn't like that.  Maybe he's wondering why you ask him every time where he wants to sit.  Maybe he's wondering why you can't make a simple decision like that on your own?

Either way, it's something to consider.  I wish you luck.

And now for something completely different

Last time I saw my neurologist, she referred me to the botox clinic (since I'd already tried a bunch of meds for my migraines, and everything either worked for a while and then stopped working, made the migraines worse, or did nothing at all, except the topamax which has helped tremendously, but not enough, and I've made every lifestyle change I can make).  Somehow, the idea of getting a bunch of injections in my head made me visualize myself doing an imitation of a hedgehog.  Silly, of course.  I was getting injections, not acupuncture.  It's just one needle injecting me several times, not several simultaneous injections.

So today I went for the injections.  The botox clinic wasn't actually a separate clinic; it was just one doctor in the neurology clinic who does the injections.  He explained the whole procedure and the history of using botox for migraines, all of which I'd read about already, but I politely paid attention, and then he asked if I had any questions.  I asked about my insurance coverage, i.e., how frequently they would pay.  They had agreed to pay for today, but only for today, and he said the shots only lasted a few months.  I would need to come back.  He said their insurance person would work it out.

He asked if I had any other questions and I didn't.  He then said, "You didn't ask if it hurts."  Huh.  I guess it didn't occur to me.  I mean, they're injections.  I've had injections before.  Some hurt more than others, but mostly, they're really not that bad.  A little bit of pain for a tiny instant, and then it's over.  Ok, I've never had that many shots all at once before, and I've never had them in my head before, but pain in my head?  Oh, I'm used to that.  Little tiny injections in my head can't possibly compare to the pain I'm used to having in my head.  So it just didn't even occur to me to ask if it would hurt.

So I just said, "I guess I'll find out."  Then he went on and on about what a tiny little needle he uses, smallest needle there is, blah blah blah.  Um, yeah, ok.  That's nice.

So then he did the injections.  20-30 of them, in my forehead, the sides of my head, and the back of my neck.  Can't remember exactly how many.  It didn't take very long at all.  It didn't really hurt much.  It just felt like tiny little pokes.  No big deal.

It should take effect in 1-14 days.  It may get rid of all of my migraines, or it may get rid of some of them, or it may lessen the severity of the ones I do get.  Or it may not do squat.  I'll have to wait and see.  But it's got an 80% success rate, so here's hoping.  Wow, without migraines, I might actually have the energy to do stuff like a normal person.   That would be really cool.

Again

I think my new bifocals are right this time.

 

I'm still getting used to them, but they're definitely better than the last two tries.

I do kind of miss the old days.  The days when I could realize I needed new glasses, go for an eye exam, get new glasses, and see better.  Just like magic!  Put on new glasses for the first time, see better!  Ta da!

That's how it always was.  The first time I got glasses, I put them on for the first time and looked out the optician's office window and was absolutely amazed that I could see the leaves on the trees!  I had absolutely no idea that I was supposed to be able to see something that far away!  That's what far meant!  You might as well have given me X-ray vision or the ability to see microbes with the naked eye, it was so astounding.  Seeing leaves on trees.  Wow.  That was really something.

Now, I realize I need new glasses, go for an eye exam, get new glasses, and it's harder to see than before.  They tell me I need to get used to the glasses.

But I think they're right this time.  I'm still getting used to looking at things, but my eyes don't hurt this time.  The first time around I only wore them for 10 minutes.  Then they remade them, and second time around, I wore them, but they made my eyes ache and water and I realized I was squinting a lot.  They remade them again, and this time, my eyes feel normal.  I just have to get used to looking at things. I've been wearing them for a few days now, and I think I'm getting the hang of it.

And they match my shoes!

(I don't usually have a vein bulging in my forehead, but you try taking a photo of yourself while holding your foot up to your head!)

If the glasses of frustration are more than half full...

So I got my new glasses.  Notice how you don't see a picture of me wearing them?

I picked them up in the shop over a week ago, realized these are going to take some getting used to, and they showed me how to look up, look down, how to tilt my head down to look at the floor instead of just looking down with my eyes...  Things looked a little weird, but ok, I thought, I can get used to this.  It'll just take time.  And then I took them off, put my sunglasses on to go out into the blinding sunlight, and went home.

I got home, sat on the couch, took off my sunglasses, put on the bifocals, and everything was blurry.  No matter what I looked at, if I looked straight at it, it was blurry.  The trees out the window, the dining room chairs, my spinning wheel, the Buddha on the table...it was all blurry if I looked straight at it.  If I tilted my head down and looked through the top of the lenses, then everything came into focus.

But I can't spend the majority of my day with my neck bent and my eyes looking "up" just to look forward.  That's a one way ticket to Migraineville.  I spent about 10 minutes wearing them, trying to figure out if I was missing something, then realized I was starting to get a headache, and what's more, that I was starting to think of them as "the bifocals of death," so I took them off and put my old glasses on.

So the next morning I took them back to the shop.  They spent a lot of time adjusting them so they weren't quite in the same place when I wore them, and that did help a little bit, but not quite enough.  They had to remake them.

Well, ok.  I can understand how sometimes something might not be perfect the first time.  Kind of like reknitting a sleeve.  Cough.

So about a week later I picked them up again.  This time when I looked straight ahead, things were in focus.  Cool.  And when I looked down, I could read.  Well, that was nifty.  So I figured everything was just peachy.

Oh, did I say, "I figured"?

Sigh.  I did.

When I wore them for longer than I had in the shop, I started noticing things.  Like they made my eyes really tired.  After only half an hour my eyes ached.  It felt like everywhere I looked other than straight ahead, the world was blurry.  I understood I needed to move my head up and down to look at things, but I had to move my head from side to side too.  It felt like I was wearing glasses with lenses about half the diameter of a dime.  Everything to the side of that was blurry.  Was that normal with progressives?  (I found it hard to believe it would be, but what did I know?)  Would regular bifocals not be like that?  Was this just the wrong prescription?  Also, I was sure that the prescription for close up was wrong because I could actually see a little better without the glasses than with, and that wasn't right!

I called the doctor's office and they had me come in to verify that the glasses were made to the prescription as ordered (they were), and to retest my eyes.  I ended up with quite a different prescription.  Not just different numbers than before, but numbers written in the axis and cylinder columns for one eye, which I never had before.  Yikes, I'm getting complicated eyes now.  So I'm not sure what happened before.  Maybe I tried too hard to read the tiny letters I really couldn't read last time.  "G, or maybe that's an O...P, Z, or it could be a 7..."  But surely that didn't sound confident?

This time I made it clear that sometimes there were things I could barely make out, but they were blurry.  So they're going to remake the glasses again with the new prescription, and if I'm lucky, this time they'll be right.  They can't possibly have to remake them as many times as I've reknit the sleeves that still aren't right, right?  Right?  Right?

As far as those sleeves go, I've kind of figured out more or less what I need to do, but I haven't worked out the numbers yet, and I don't really feel like even looking at the sweater right now.  Let's just say the sweater has to go sit in a corner for a month because it's been naughty.  After it's had time to think about what it's done, I'll forgive it and do what needs to be done with the sleeves and finish it and all will be well and we'll live happily ever after together.  Yeah, that's it.  And then vegan oatmeal raisin cookies will grow on trees.

Ahem.  Anyway, for now I'm practicing project monogamy with my sock, and wow, socks go really fast when you just knit them and nothing else!  I suppose that shouldn't come as a surprise, but usually they're just my bus knitting, so it's 20 minutes here, 20 minutes there, 30 minutes here...it all adds up, and over time I get a lot of socks knit, but man, spending a couple of hours just knitting the sock gets so much sock done!  It's amazing!  Well, if you're amazed by simple things, like I am, anyway.

Stupid stupid stupid sleeves from hell

Shit.  Shit shit shit.  Shit goddamn fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

Ok, I'm pissed.  (And I assume any of you who are offended by swearing probably don't even read my blog, so, um, yeah.  Hi.)  I've had a migraine for two days, and aside from sleeping away large portions of the day, one of the few things I can do is knit.  If I try to do anything that involves moving or thinking at all, ow, that's bad.  Railroad spikes, pounding, stabbing, squeezing eyeballs, bad bad bad.  So no moving.  No thinking.  Sitting motionless, doing mindless stockinette in a dark room?  I can do that.  Ah, sweet endorphins.

So since all I've been doing for the past two days is knitting and sleeping, I managed to finish the second sleeve of the sweater I've been working on since last summer.  You know the one.  The one I had to redesign about three times, and then when I worked out a design I liked, I had to redo the first sleeve about 4000 seven times to get it to fit right.  But fit right it did.  I had the sense to realize that all my sleeves always end up too short because I finish the sleeves before I do the front bands and collar, and then when I do those it pulls the shoulders higher, so before finishing the first sleeve I went ahead and did the bands and collar, then went back to the sleeve.  I tried it on over a long sleeved shirt since that's how I would be wearing it, measured several times, knit more, tried it on again, knit more, tried it on again, etc.  It was perfect. 

And then I made the second sleeve exactly the same as the first.  They are exactly the same length. 

So when I finished the second sleeve, I figured, well, I should try it on before I start working all the ends in.  And I did.  And both sleeves are indeed the same length.  Nearly an inch too short.

Fuck!

I will repress the urge to burn it...for now.

I will repress the urge to throw the whole thing into the dumpster...for now.

I will repress the urge to throw the whole thing into one of those collection boxes for clothing for homeless people they have all over town...for now.  Mainly because it isn't actually finished, and geez, if I'm going to give something to a homeless person, it should at least be wearable.

But...I don't get it.  And I can't even start thinking about it now because thinking = railroad spikes.

If I wasn't a person who was absolutely freezing all winter, I'd say "screw sleeves" and just knit vests.  But I freeze in the winter.  I need sleeves.

Or I would knit shawls except I wear a backpack everywhere I go.  Shawls and backpacks just really don't work so well together.

I really need to figure out what the hell I'm missing.  Why can I never get my sleeves the right length?

Oh fuck.  I'm going to go work on my sock.

It's Official

Well, it's official.  I'm old now.  (At this point half of you are saying, "Riin, you are not old," and the other half are saying, "Well, duh, we knew that, so what's your point?")  I'm getting my first pair of bifocals. I've realized for quite a while that I needed them, but I've been putting off going for an eye exam because glasses are fucking expensive, and bifocals even more so.  But I really couldn't put it off any longer.

I suppose maybe bifocals mean I'm officially middle-aged rather than old, though I knew a kid in my elementary school who wore very thick bifocals. That seems to be pretty unusual though.  It seems to be something people start with in their 40's, no?  So I'll be officially old when?  When I start menopause?  At my last physical my doctor asked me if I was still having periods.  Ok, that freaked me out a little.  I kind of felt like, "I'm only 43!  How old do you think I am?"  But I guess some women start menopause in their early 40's.

I'm mostly joking when I say I'm old.  I don't really feel old.  On the other hand, I'm not ashamed of being 43.  I am the age I am, and I feel better and look better than I did 20 years ago.  I'm in far better health now.  My eyes aren't as good, but the rest of me is in a lot better shape. I weigh 100 pounds less than I did 11 years ago.  I eat a much healthier diet, I get a lot more exercise, and my head is more together.  I've figured out more about life.  It took time and experience, some good and some bad, to become the person I am today.

So I've got a lot of gray hair, and I'm getting more all the time.  That's fine.  I have no intention of dyeing it.  I think it's pretty.  And I'll tell anyone how old I am.  I really don't understand women who lie about their age.  My mom tells people she's 39.  Um, so she gave birth to me four years before she was born?  Well, that's one for the tabloids.

Anyway, I wonder if there is some definition of what age is young, what's middle-aged, what's old, or if it's just relative, i.e., I'm old compared to the 22-year-old students who work for me, but young compared to my mom (even if she is "39" -- right, Mom), or if it just varies by individual? I mean, you know how sometimes you meet two different people and you find out they're the same age, but you'd swear one was 15 years older than the other?  I think I used to be older than I am now in some ways.

In any case, I'll have my new glasses in about a week.  I got violety/purple frames that really rock it with my gray hair, and I swear, that color looks good with all of my clothes.  I realized later it's actually the same color as my shoes!

I'll take a picture of myself wearing them once they arrive.  It'll be nice to be able to see.  Er...could you guys buy some of my stuff so I don't have to start naming colorways things like "I bought new glasses and now I'm broke"?  Unless someone actually wants a colorway with that name. I guess I could dye it for you.  (Hmm...now I'm thinking about what that would look like.  Well, maybe I'll have to dye it anyway...)

And now, I know what you're saying.  You're saying, "Riin, you keep saying you're going to show us knitting pictures.  Well, where are they?  Are you just all talk and no action?  Where are they, girl?  Cough 'em up!"  I know, I know, I'm the world's worst blogger.  Well, here they are, finally.  First, the purple and blue sock I finished...uh...well, when it was still cold enough to wear socks.  So a few months ago.  Ahem.

Next, my Tigers on Estrogen socks, which I knit using Anne Hanson's Smokin' Socks pattern.

Now you might be thinking they look awfully skinny for my size 8.5 feet and sexy muscular legs, but ah, Anne was sneaky!  Look how stretchy they are!

I'd model them for you, but it's just too hot for me to wear socks right now.  You'll have to use your imagination.  Uh, unless you're some pervert with a foot fetish, then go away, ya weirdo! 

Finally, here's my sock in progress, and I do believe it's my favoritest sock ever.

I'm in love with it.  It's almost the same as the Crocus sport weight I still have one skein of in the shop; the greens just came out a little bit darker in this one (they were from the same dyepot).  Happy happy...

Sigh...I still need to show you my sweater, which is almost finished.  But that will have to wait till next time.  I need to go to bed.  (Have mercy!  I need sleep!)

Finally!

A post with photos!  And a shop update!  I finally added the Orchid Lust handspun yarn I meant to add, um, a couple of months ago?  (Blush...)

And since it's been so long, I spun more in that time, so here's Girlish Charm.

I know, I still need to show you pictures of my knitting, but it's late, and I'm trying to keep a somewhat regular sleep schedule to help the migraines.  I shifted my work schedule half an hour later so I can sleep half an hour later.  After years of trying to go to bed earlier and failing, I've determined that my body just can't do it.  Seems to help somewhat, though it didn't get rid of them entirely.  I did conclude that it was nothing in my diet though -- I was on vacation for two weeks at the beginning of June, stayed home and relaxed and ate all the same foods I normally eat, and didn't have a single migraine the whole time.  

So I'm trying to keep the same sleep schedule 7 days a week now.  No more staying up late on weekends, and I still have to get up at the same time as during the week.  It's been working mostly ok, though I had to take a nap this afternoon.  Ok, time for me to go to bed.   

Mmeh

I'm home with a migraine, so this might be a bit whiny and incoherent (or maybe just more whiny and incoherent than usual) so, um, sorry.  But remember the sweater I've been working on, like, forever?  The one whose sleeve I've frogged and reknit about 400 times now?  Yeah, that one.  I frogged the sleeve again last night.  I swear this is turning into some knitterly version of Groundhog Day.  Knit half a sleeve.  Frog it.  Knit half a sleeve.  Frog it.  Knit half a sleeve.  Frog it.  Knit half a sleeve.  Frog it.  I swear, if my clock radio starts playing Sonny & Cher singing "I got you Babe" one morning, I'm going to frog the whole damn thing.  It's cursed.

The sleeve I just frogged was a lot smaller than the last one, but still way too big.  I feel like I really don't know how to design sweaters for the body I have now.  I don't have any sweaters that fit.  I have one sweater that almost fits, but it clashes horribly with several of my shirts.  I've making this sweater in progress specifically to go with those shirts.  I have a gray sweater that lives at work; it goes with everything, but it's now huge on me.

The thing is, I've lost another 4 pounds in the last month.  So it strikes me that I'll probably continue to lose weight until my body decides, "Oh, ok.  This is the weight I'm supposed to be.  Right."  I have absolutely no idea what that weight will be or what size that will be.  (You people who got here by googling weight loss, I'm not trying to lose weight.  I just switched from lacto-ovo vegetarian to vegan about 6 months ago.  I eat a lot of food, but no animal products, except for honey in my tea.)  So I'm wondering, not only will this sweater be a lot looser than I planned by the time I ever finish it, but will all of the shirts I planned to wear it with be way too big next fall?  Some of them are already pretty loose.  Hmm.

I think maybe I should wait a few months to start the Cobblestone sweater.  I still need to make a scarf for next winter, and I can never have too many socks... 

In the meantime, I started the sleeve again last night, this time picking up fewer stitches.  If this doesn't work, well, you know, I don't know what I'll do with it.  I'm getting kind of tired of looking at it.  I've been knitting it for so long, it should be done by now, and I'm getting pissed off at it for being cursed.  I know, it's not its fault that my brain still thinks I'm the size I was years ago, and the yarn is really soft, so I can't really be mad at it...because it's soft...and fuzzy...  How can you be mad at something soft and fuzzy?  Damn.

Oh yeah, the other thing...

I remembered the other thing I was trying to say in my last post (see, I told you my brain wasn't working).  Once I realized that my depression was often part of a migraine, that was encouraging because it meant the depression would go away in a few days.  Yeah, it sucked while it was there, but it didn't mean I was starting to sink into a deep abyss where I'd be stuck for weeks or months or years, though it sure felt like it at the time.  I just had to wait it out, and it would go away all by itself, as soon as the storm in my head cleared.

That was a great relief.

But I'm glad you guys aren't just saying, "shut up, no one cares what you think!"  I guess there's always a little voice in the back of my head saying that.  Damned childhood.  To be logical though, if someone doesn't care what I think, you'd think they just wouldn't read my blog.  Not that everyone is logical.  Since I started a website way back in 2003, a lot of people have emailed me, most to say really positive things, but a few have sent messages along the lines of "no one cares what you think" (although usually quite hostile) which really made me wonder why they bothered to read it and why they went through the effort of writing to tell me they "didn't care."  Weirdos.

But I'm also glad I'm not just talking to myself.  Hi.

So I'll go ahead and continue to be open and honest, warts and all. Figuratively speaking.  I don't actually have any warts.  I saw a toad on my way home from the bus stop a few months ago though.  I was actually walking in the dark and I saw a movement in the grass and stopped and looked down closely and realized it was a toad.  Toads are cute.

And I'm easily distracted.  Where was I?

Oh yeah.  The migraines.  Well, to clear up some of the stuff brought up in the comments, yeah, I used to have them almost every day.  I've had headaches my entire life, for as long as I can remember, and tried pretty much every headache med there is.  Some did absolutely nothing.  Some made it much worse.  Some worked for a while, but then stopped working, so my doctor had me increase the dosage, then that worked, for a while, then it stopped working, then we increased the dose, then it worked for a while, then it stopped, etc., etc., until I was at the maximum dose I could take. Couldn't increase anymore.  So I couldn't take that drug anymore.  Next.

I've lost count of how many different drugs I went through, trying to find something.  If I take something to kill the pain, the nerve endings in my head quickly build up a tolerance, so the low level of the drug is like it's not even there.  I have to take more to have any effect.  Then if it's not there, it's like the nerve endings have been sanded raw.  That's what's called a rebound headache.  I kept a headache diary for several months when I was trying to find something to work, and in 6 months, I only had one day that I did not have a headache.  I was seriously beginning to wonder if I would ever have a day without a headache again.

Sometimes I tell someone I have a migraine and they say something like, "oh, when I have a headache, I just take an aspirin" or "have you tried taking some ibuprofen?" and it's all I can do to bite my tongue and not say, "you fucking moron, you don't know shit.  Just shut up."

Yeah, I could take some ibuprofen, and it might get rid of my headache. I'd have to take 4-5.  But if I took ibuprofen every time I had a headache, pretty soon I'd be having a headache every day, and ibuprofen wouldn't do a thing, even if I took 7.  Years ago I was actually taking 7 regularly, and it no longer worked, and then I read about liver damage from taking too much.  So much for that.

Natasha  mentioned migraines being like seizures, and she's absolutely right.  I started taking Topamax a few years ago, a drug originally used for epilepsy, but now also used for migraines.  It's potent stuff.  I had to start off with an extremely small dose and gradually ramp up to the dose I'm at now.  I had to take it for a couple of months before I could even tell if it would work.  And during the first few months, I had bizarre neurological side effects.  Like I said, it's potent stuff.

If the side effects were going to be an ongoing thing as long as I was taking it, there's no way I'd be able to take it, but they told me what to expect (otherwise it would have been scary as hell instead of just bizarre) and that it would only last for the first 2-3 months while my body got used to having the drug in my system.

So, that was weird.  But eventually my system adjusted, and most of the side effects went away (occasionally I still have this weird hallucination that my head is further away from my hands than it really is, but it only lasts for about a minute, and it only happens when I'm sitting at my computer.  I'm used to it happening, so I just wait for it to pass. Other people have it too; it's documented and referred to as "Alice in Wonderland" syndrome), and I stopped having so many migraines.  After a migraine every day, 2-3 per month isn't that many, and a one minute hallucination every six months or so isn't that bad, especially since I know it's only going to last that long.

It's just when I'm actually having one of the 2-3 per month that it's hard to look at the big picture, because a) when I'm in pain, life sucks, and b) when I'm having a migraine, my brain literally isn't working right, so of course I can't think clearly.  Duh.

So when I have a bad migraine I go to bed, if I can, and sleep for several hours and hope the railroad spike through my eyeball dissolves.  That helps a little bit, though I still feel like crap when I get up.

Sometimes I can't go to bed though.  Usually I can leave work if it's really bad, but if everyone else in my department is gone, somebody has to be there, and that ends up being me.  In that case I end up turning the lights off in my office and working in the dark, and doing the bare minimum, only what absolutely has to be done, and trying not to move very much.  I don't have a lot of spoons. 

Or I might be out some place else, like grocery shopping when a migraine hits.  If that happens, I wear my sunglasses.  The lights in the store are too bright.  All I can do though is finish my shopping.  I can't leave sooner because I can only leave when the bus leaves anyway.  I'm on bus time.  I might not remember everything I need to get though.  I always take a grocery list, but usually I remember additional things I need once I'm in the store.  If my head hurts, I won't remember anything.  It will strictly be what's on the list, and I won't be moving very fast.  Just fast enough to get through the checkout line and catch the bus.  Then once I'm home I can put the groceries away and go to bed.

I sometimes wonder what I could do to have fewer migraines.  But I already eat a healthy diet with lots of fruits and vegetables, no meat, no dairy, no alcohol, I get lots of exercise.  I think it's just stress.  I know sleep deprivation is a trigger, but since I realized I get depressed the night before the headache starts, i.e., the depression is part of the prodrome phase, I'm wondering what's cause and what's effect?  Did I get a migraine because I stayed up too late, or was I unable to sleep because I was getting a migraine?  Certainly when I wake up at 3am and can't go back to sleep until 5:30, and then I wake up at 6:00 with a splitting head, that's not from staying up too late.  Was I unable to sleep because there was a storm brewing in my head?

I'm starting to think it's pointless to even ask these questions, especially since I read that it's possible to have a migraine without the headache phase!  So I think it's not that depression causes migraine or migraine causes depression, it's depression equals migraine.  They're the same thing.  They're just different words for the same thing.  There are subtle distinctions between the two, like the way blue faced leicester has different properties than merino, but they're both wool.

And this thing, this depressionmigraine (depregraine?  migression?), is certainly impacted by diet, exercise, etc., but even if you're doing everything right, there's still stress.  So how do you deal with stress?

I guess there's always going to be some stress.  I accept that.  But in the past I accepted too much.  I grew up unhappy and figured that's just what life was going to be like.

Eventually life was ok.  I spent a few years being more or less happy. Then I started sliding into the abyss again.  Scared the hell out of me. I didn't want to go there again, but it was pulling me in.  Eventually, I slowly crawled out.  I felt ok.  Life was alright.

Then Ken was killed and it was just like a door opened under me and I fell straight into the abyss.

It took a while before I could even think straight enough to try to get out.  Eventually I started climbing out, though I realized much later that my judgment at that time was still impaired from grief.  I saw things that weren't really there and ignored things that were right in front of me. I guess I was desperate to get out of the abyss.  Eventually I could see where I was and what was in front of me.  It wasn't where I wanted to be. And I felt like someone was trying to push me into the abyss.

Enough.  I've been there too many times.  It was one thing to grow up there.  I didn't know anything else.  When I slid in, I did my damnedest to get back out, and it took a long time.  Falling in was horrible.  But there's no way in hell I'll let someone push me in.

So when I say I accept that there's stress, there's a limit.  There's stress, and there's stress.  There's the stress of Meijer being out of spinach for the third week in a row, why can't they get their act together?, and there's the stress of someone trying to push me into the abyss.  Well, you know, I can eat broccoli instead.  It just isn't a big deal.

But someone trying to push me into the abyss does things to my head.  So even though I left the situation and did things I needed to do, my head is having a hard time getting over everything that happened.  That's some heavy duty stress.  I can't just eat broccoli instead.

My point was I finally learned that I don't have to accept everything. Some things are unacceptable.  So I refused to accept them.  Other things aren't worth getting upset about, and it's better just to accept them. Eat broccoli if there's no spinach.

The hard part for me has been where to draw the line between the two.  I grew up feeling like I had to accept everything because I had no choice. If I tried to voice an opinion, it held no weight.  As a result, I put up with a lot as an adult that I should not have tolerated.  I stayed in bad situations for far too long because I felt I had no alternative.  I always felt trapped.  I grumbled, but I didn't really protest loudly unless someone did something completely unacceptable.  I realize now though if I'm in a situation I don't want to be in, that makes me uncomfortable, that doesn't feel healthy, that's a good enough reason to leave it.  In fact, that's a very good reason to leave.  I wish I had figured that out decades ago, but I guess I had to be in a situation bad enough for it to be like a kick in the head.

I'm still not sure exactly where the line is, but the rule is: take care of myself.  Do what is healthy for me.  Accept what is healthy to accept. Do not accept what is harmful.

I'm hoping in time I won't be so haunted by bad memories.  Memories do tend to fade; it just takes time.  Some of them never really go away, of course.  They become scars.

I'm also trying not to get down on myself so much for not accomplishing as much as I'd like.  It's frustrating when I see what other people are doing, and I just can't get that much done, and I think, well, I have 24 hours in a day just like they do.  How come they can do so much more than I can?  Well, if they don't spend a lot of the time feeling like crap, they have more time.  I just have to accept the fact that I don't have a whole lot of energy.  I do everything I can to be healthy, but I have never been a super-energetic person, and it looks like I never will be. So I'm going to have to just do what I can do and not compare myself to other people.  Sometimes I wonder what I would have accomplished with my life if I hadn't had migraines and depression for as long as I can remember, but it's pointless to wonder.  I am who I am.  I have to just make the best of it.

On a happier note, it's Rudy's 10th birthday today!  Happy birthday, Rudy!

(I tried to get a picture of him, but the boy does not like the camera.  Every time I turned it on he ran away.  So here's a photo of him from 2006.)