I confess damn it…I’ve been avoiding WordPress

It’s 3:30 in the morning. My dog woke me up because she felt she was being squeezed out from her comfy spot. I made room, she came back but now sleep is elusive. So I figure fawk it, it’s time to write a post.

Yes, I promised you the ever enthralling “When a shit isn’t a shit…” and I swear it’s all written and ready to go but, I have a confession to make. I’ve been avoiding WordPress.

My last post eliciting a huge outpouring of support, not just here on the blog but via Facebook, phone calls, emails, private messages. WOW! I’ve been overwhelmed and blown away by how deeply and unconditionally people care. How blessed I feel!!! I shouldn’t be surprised because deep down, that is what I believe our world is full of – exceptionally caring and loving people – but for whatever reason this did surprise me. In a good way. And I’ve wanted to follow up, shout out, write witty blog posts to keep you all entertained beyond measure, as my thank you and also to keep my promise that this blog won’t be all doom and gloom. But every time I think about blogging, I freeze.


Cause since then it’s been pretty gloomy. Fawk!

The days haven’t been horrible but they haven’t been great. The pain is exhausting. The brain fog no joke. And I’ve been so depressed lately. On the good side, I’ve been trying a new eating approach. It’s actually an elimination diet to find out what foods cause inflammation in each of us uniquely. And frankly, I’ve loved it. Love the food; except that whole flax seed granola the author said was so amazing you’d be addicted to it…ummm…NO!. I’ve tried every blasted way to get that shit down to no avail. Now if I even catch a glimpse of the container, my stomach threatens to grab my lady bits and turn them inside out. I digress. The food. Ah yes. Other than the whole flaxseed granola from hell, I’m actually enjoying the food. Frankly, it’s AMAZING! And most importantly, I love that I feel like I am finally learning to cook, to feed my body what it thrives on….figuring out spices I like, trying new things (Manchego cheese…who knew?!?!). It’s awesome.

But it’s fawking EXHAUSTING!

And that depresses me. I’ve been doing this for seven days (I know, I know…rush much!). I hit the grocery store every other day, come home and cook for an hour or two (usually covers a couple lunches and suppers) and then I. am. done. For like days….yesterday and today I couldn’t even bring myself to hit the grocery store. Today I had to rest ALL DAY just so would have enough energy and enough pain management to go see a movie with my mother tonight. Seriously?!

WTF? And the pain….no better. I know, I know…it takes time. But my God I just need relief.

So that’s where I am at. Thursday I took the dogs for a play date for an hour, and I was absolutely wrecked after. Had a huge breakdown when I got home. Had another huge breakdown when hubby got home. I am so fawking sad. I miss the girl I used to be so desperately. The easy laughter. The energy. The sharp, witty mind. The optimism. It all feels like it’s gone, and hanging on to hope that it’s going to get better, that I just need to hang in there, is getting harder and harder every. single. day.

So that’s why I am hear at now 3:53 am. Confessing my avoidance. Admitting my fear that I just won’t be good enough. That I just won’t be able to deliver like I used to. I can’t.

So here’s what I decided. It may be all doom and gloom for awhile but shit, I’ll do my best to at least try to make it somewhat funny, if I can. But I need an outlet. I need a place to put it all out there. To share with whoever is listening. To make sure the world knows about how hard this actually is. I am not sitting home watching Downton Abbey eating bonbons happy as a clown (well ok….fawk….I have been binging on Downton Abbey and I do eat Werthers pretty steadily to combat the chronic fawking dry mouth…can anyone say PARCHED??? But I am definitely NOT happy as a clown), and frankly I’d rather be anywhere feeling productive, alive, vibrant and witty as all get out than here in bed with my bonbons, my pain and the pups (although the pups do make it less sucky).

So there, I’m going to just say it like it is for the next however long. And to combat feeling like a chronic whining fool yanging on about how I feel like an 80-year-old woman all the time, albeit hubby does say I walk like one hobbling around in the morning, I am no longer going to link my blog posts to Facebook or Twitter. Well after this one. I just don’t want to put it out there like that. I don’t want to subject anyone to any more negativity than they already have to fight through every day.

If you want to follow along, check out my blog regularly or heck, subscribe, but otherwise, I’m keeping this to WordPress so at least I don’t feel quite so…IN YOUR FACE with my shit.

And again, thank you so much to everyone out there who offers love and support. I may not reach out much but please know I appreciate it…deeply!




Fibro what????

Some people know. A lot don’t.


I’ve been off work on sick leave most of the summer. Honestly, I think this has been a few years coming. Things slowly started getting more and more overwhelming. But hey, I had lost a job, got a new job (albeit not permanent), got permanent, wasn’t sure if it would last and was volunteering A LOT. I had every reason to feel overwhelmed, foggy, dizzy, exhausted and slightly sore (like all over….a lot).

I threw my back out three years ago and it never really got better. I seemed to experience a lot of muscle injuries (going up one flight of stairs could debilitate my walking ability for days but I’m out of shape so that’s normal right???). I didn’t really realize or maybe I didn’t want to accept that it kept getting worse. Little by little so the impact on “normal” was so subtle I never really noticed the slow but detrimental deteriation going on.

imageLast year I fell out of my chair at work a couple times because I was so dizzy, couldn’t tell if the car was actually stopped at street lights because it felt like I was on a boat. I couldn’t concentrate. Felt really burned out. I thought depression or anxiety. I saw the doctor and started on Celexa and it helped. A lot. Phew…dodged a bullet.

Then early this year, the pain became unbearable. Excruciating pain in my back and my left arm left me sleepless for weeks. The pain was so intense, I didn’t really clue in that I was also hurting all over. Getting out of bed in the mornings felt like I was eighty years old, crippled and achy. I couldn’t get moving. My spirit felt like it was dying. My sparkle was dim. People were noticing I wasn’t myself. I thought it was just sleep deprivation so hubby and I took an impromptu trip down south just the two of us to se if that helped.


I didn’t sleep any better through the night but I was able to nap and rest more during the day than I had in months. I came back and felt better. Felt more myself. Not 100% but better. People commented….people had noticed I seemed better. Phew…I just needed a week away.

But it didn’t take long for the pain, exhaustion, dizziness, mental incapacitation and depression to come back and when it hit, it hit like a ton of bricks. I was no longer able to hold it together. I started crying…like all the time…everywhere…at work. Someone would come in and ask how I was doing and I’d fall apart like a blubbering idiot. I had extensive. bloods work, I went to physio, I had X-rays (that showed arthritis in my back but nothing to explain the severe and debilitating arm pain I was experiencing), not to mention my entire body felt like it was breakdown…inside I felt helpless and consumed by darkness.

I saw the doc and fell apart. She put me off work for a week and upped my anti-depressant. She added an anti-inflammatory to help with the never-ending pain and a sleep aid to help my muscles relax so I could get some continuous sleep. I felt hopeful. I thought onice the medications kicked in and I started sleeping, everything would be fine. Everything would go back to normal. A week turned into eight and here I am. A little better but no where near healthy.

Fibromyalgia….The mayo clinic defines it as a “disorder characterized by widespread musculoskeletal pain accompanied by fatigue, sleep, memory and mood issues. Researchers believe that fibromyalgia amplifies painful sensations by affecting the way your brain processes pain signals.


I’ve been on the medications for about eight weeks now and my doctor says this is about as far as I’ll get with the current protocol. And to be honest, I do have more good days then bad but let’s be real, my “good” days aren’t what they used to be.

A good day means four or five hours straight before being woken up by pain, somewhere in my body. It means I can get up in the morning even though the pain in my back, ankles, calves and shins threatens to flatline me. It means if hubby gives me a little leg massage to help loosen me up, he can actually touch me without it feeling like he’s surgically carving me up. A good day means once I am up and around for an hour or so, the pain seems to settle to a dull, constant ache. A good day means no migraine but maybe a headache. A good day means maybe I can take the dogs for a 10 to 2o-minute walk (no hills) or throw the ball with the launcher for them without suffering from excruciating leg, arm and back pain. A good day means I can visit with one person for maybe an hour or two before  exhaustion takes over. A good day means I am sporadically vertical for four or five hours before I need to lay down (gravity chair preferred) and rest for four or five hours so that I will be coherent enough to enjoy supper, a chat and maybe watch a show or two with hubby.

More good days than bad. Before the medications, there were next to no good days. Now, I am averaging about two to three good days a week, with one or two “so-so” days and the rest….hell. And once a bad day hits, it can feel like forever to get the good days back.

A bad day means literally no sleep the night before, every toss and turn feeling like being struck by a hot poker startling me awake gasping for breath. My hands going so numb that it feels like I am wearing giant mittens. A bad day means a migraine and body pain in my arm, back, legs, neck and ankles so intense hubby can hardly touch me, and I usually drug myself into oblivion to try and somewhat sleep through it. A bad day means every. single. time. I get up to pee it feels like pins and needles attacking my entire system while a 200-pound man surprise punches me every two to three minutes. A bad day means that wearing a bra feels like someone is going 10 rounds on my ribs. It means crying, isolation, hopelessness and feeling so overwhelmed by a sense of complete and utter sadness and despair that sometimes I wonder what is the damn point?!?!?! Bad days….leave me feeling so desperately betrayed by my body.

And that’s just the physical. The mental issues have been challenging to say the least. And they don’t seem to respond to the ebb and flow of good and bad days. They remain a constant. Hubby says that the brain fog is so bad, it’s not even fun to torment me anymore. You know it’s bad when…I know stupid is an ugly word but it’s the only one that sums up how I feel. Stupid. Numb. Dense. Seriously, sometimes I sit for nearly an entire minute trying to remember the damn word I wanted to use. Now that happens to all of us but it happens to me FREQUENTLY every. single. day! It feels like my beautifully sharp mind has turned to mush.

The fog, forgetfulness, depression, dizziness….it’s paralyzing. It makes me feel like an integral part of what makes me….me…is missing. It’s just gone. And I often wonder if it’ll ever come back.

I gotta say. I’ve gone through some shit in my life but this one has truly kicked me on my ass. It’s been hell. But in the darkness, comes the light. And y’all know I haven’t been alone. And I can’t express the gratitude I have in my heart for hubby and for my family and friends who have been the most amazing support system ever.

The next step is seeing a specialist. While I wait for an appointment (New Brunswick healthcare for my worldly friends who wonder “why is she waiting….”), God help me, I am going to implement a major lifestyle change. It’s either that or more intense medications.

Although the lifestyle changes will be WAY more arduous and require a determination and commitment that frankly I am not sure I even have in me…it’s the step I’ve chosen to take. From my research, I can’t discount the power that nutrition and supplements, relaxation and meditations, along with some light exercise could have on improving my health. And although popping a pill might seem easier, in the long run it won’t be. Medications come with their own hazards, and going any further down that road is my last resort. I need to see how far I can get with a lifestyle change before I am willing to take on those side effects.

So be prepared my friends because relaunching this blog is part of my healing journey and lifestyle changes. I plan to take y’all with me through the ups and downs, the good days and bad, the successes and the fails. Every. Painful. Step. Starting mid-September, I am going to embark on implementing some pretty significant changes that involve eating very differently  (I am going to have to learn to cook…you know like fresh food…), implementing a supplement regime that gives new meaning to the words “excessive and complex”, using meditation and relaxation techniques along with a stretching and exercise program daily.

Even though this blog is going to be part of my healing journey, I promise this isn’t going to be all doom and gloom…y’all know I got some hilarity that MUST be unleashed (if I can find my words)….like my next planned post “When a Shit Isn’t Really a Shit…” Stay tuned for the fun…

What about you? Any summer struggles this year? How do you live your best life?



Battling my glamping nemesis


Have you ever been afraid of something that it almost paralyzed you with fear. Likely irrational but paralyzingly none the less. Well we all know I love camping. And in the recent years hubby and I upgraded to glamping now with a fifth wheel trailer and all the accutramonts that go with it…leather recliners, TVs, a sofa, heat, AC, vaulted ceilings. You get the picture.

Well the one thing we haven’t been able to “glamp-up” is the fact that regardless of how fancy the trailer and accessories are, glamping still involves the great outdoors. And for 99% of the time, that is one of the most favorable parts of glamping. Getting outside, enjoying the sun, sand, trees, sunsets, campsite fires, s’mores, breath taking views etc. The other 1%….bugs.

Insects, ants, spiders, earwigs, fireflies, butterflies, moths, mosquitoes. All annoying, some even slightly frightening but none as terrifying for me as the pine borer beetle. So terrifying that I cannot even go google thieve a picture of the nasty bugger for you without anxiety rushing through my blood. The fear is completely irrational. As far as I know these flying fawkers don’t even bite but when are fears ever logical??? Am I right or am I right?

Now given that I do nearly all my glamping with hubby close by, the plight of facing a pine borer beetle on my own is relatively slim to none. My outdoorsy hubby strikes fear in all such four (or more) legged insects that dare cross our fair camp site area. Armed with Kleenex and a fly sweater, they are no match for my armed and dangerous fighter of flyers. *Swoon*

Alas this summer has seen me doing a fair amount of glamping on my own during the day while hubby is at work (another story for another time). And on one such  day I was lounging in my glorious gravity chair, enjoying the awning-provided shade…pups quietly bustling nearby when I heard a sound…THWAP….TIC! Obviously some insect had erroneously interrupted my perfectly relaxed perch and hit the awning and landed on the nearby picnic table. Now…always on guard for said nasty pine borer beetle I opted to “not” look trusting said intruder to move it along.

A few seconds passed and I realized that, like a horror movie one can’t stop watching, even through spliced fingers, I HAD to look…because if this was a daring pine borer beetle attacking my hallowed grounds, it was much too close to ignore given their slow moving and tenacious nature. I slowly guided the gravity chair to a more straight forward position and with the stealthness of a highly trained sniper, slowly…oh so slowly…I peered to the top of the picnic table. And what to my horror did I discover by a fawking pine borer beetle. O. M. G.

I lept from my gravity chair with the nimbleness of a world-class gymnast. My heart in my throat. My stomach twisting and twirling. My head spinning. I swallowed. What the fawk was I going to do?!?! It was perched on the picnic table with obviously NO intention of traveling along. Aaaaaannnndddd…now that I had set my sights on the damn thing, I couldn’t just ignore it not knowing where it’s next landing would be…my head…an arm…a foot…eeeeekeee…the only positive bit of news was that it hadn’t landed ON me to begin with.

As a young girl, I grew up in the country and the fear of these bastage bugs began when multiple times I’d feel like something was tickling my head and when I’d reach up, I’d pull one of these buggers out of my hair. Can YOU imagine?!?!?! My hair!!!!!

I took a deep breath. Knowing hubby was a 40-minute drive away, I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to call him to come handle my shit. It was 1:30 in the afternoon and I knew my friend Petra was coming to visit at 2 pm. Could I wait that long? I didn’t think so…fawk, I was going to have to put on my big girl panties and handle the situation!

Now as you can imagine, although we camp in fairly spacious campgrounds, the proximity of the gravity chair and that trailer door to the picnic table was only about 5 feet. Cutting it close. I know!

I rushed to the stairs and entered the trailer. Starring the devil down, I willed it to move along but it seemed utterly content to sunbath where it was.

I looked around. No fly swatter. All I had were my flip flops. My concern was, given the weapon at hand, the required distance and proximity the flip flop would require in my attempts to slaughter the beast. I’d have to get close. Like INCHES away to mount a successful venture. I reached down and adjusted my lady balls, grabbed the flip flop and headed to the great outdoors to come face-to-face with my glamping nemesis. I was going to do this. Hubby was going to be proud. I was going to be hailed a hero. All would bow to my uber strength and courage.

I slowly crept up to the picnic table. I chose the side that ensured a back side approach. It would never see me coming. I aimed. I aimed again. Precision was key to ensure there’d be no counter attack. I took a few deep breaths to tame my nausea. Without actually looking at it (it’s soooo gross the near sight of it renders me useless), I raised my arm and prepared….this was it…I was going to do this….


I missed. The bastard bug bounced. About a foot CLOSER to me. O. M. G.

I did a strange sun dance or rain dance while taking gigantic deep breaths. I am sure the neighbors thought I was hammered.

Ok, I realized I was obviously unable to get close enough to strike it. My only choice….throw the flip flop with such force that I would ensure its demise. Perfect!

I stepped back. About 2 feet away and took aim. Steady…..steady….


I struck but only on the left side. Now it was crawling along the side of the picnic table.

Would this thing not just die. Give up. Leave!!!!!! God was testing me. Ok….Ok….Let’s dance!

One flip flop astray under the picnic table but one more left in my hand. I threw again with even MORE force mentally willing said flop to send this fawker flying into tomorrow.

Fawking thing landed on the mat UNDER the picnic table still crawling. WTF?!?!?! Are these things even killable?!?! Is their body made of armor??? And now both my best weapons lay inches from my enemy. Screwed. I sat down on the chair furthest from the prick and took a couple deep breaths.

WAIT. Arizona. My dog. She loves to eat EVERYTHING! Yes, I shall sick her on the beast and watch it be devoured by my savior. Yes, it would be gross. I’d likely have to look away but I was out of options and desperate.

I went around to the opposite side of the table. In my happiest voice I called Arizona….

“Arizona…come on girl…what’s this…what’s that on the ground???? You want it…eat it for mommy!! Come on baby girl…destroy the beast for mommy!!!”

She sniffed and casually walked away to go lay in the grass. What kind of guard dog IS SHE??????

At this point the damn thing had quietly crawled to the edge of the outdoor mat and was making it’s way UNDERNEATH it. What in God’s name was I going to do now??? I mean, out of sight out of my mind??? I could try. Lucky for me Petra arrived shortly after and distracted me.

When hubby got home that evening, I had him inspect underneath all the three mats to ensure we were pine borer beedle free, to which we were. Where the bastard went and when I’ll never know. Lesson learned, when I relax outside now I keep one eye open and a fly swatter and broom within reach. I know the little fawker is likely arming another attack and perhaps with friends but this time I’ll be ready!!!

What about you? Any irrational fears?


%d bloggers like this: