Someone I admire and respect immensely recently commented to me that the hormone calm that follows a good cry is worth the effort. I think she was right. Unfortunately it was about a four-day “good cry”…but I’m riding the calm at the eye of the storm at the moment, and it feels rather blissfully numb.
It’s been a rough few days. I am not, as a rule, someone who cries a lot. I do not normally cry in front of anyone – no matter how much I love or trust them – and when I cry by myself, it’s about a thirty- second to two-minute sobfest and then it’s over…leaving behind a stuffy nose, headache, and all the other crap. But over the past few days, I’ve been a soppy, sloppy, whimpering mess. I cry at the drop of a hat, for any reason at all, and for no reason at all, and it lasts forever – I can’t seem to stop. I’m a little sick of crying, to be honest.
Today, though, I seem to be functioning at a near-normal level, which is nice. I guess I just ran out of angry/sad/scared/frustrated and ended up with numb. Which is good. I need a little numb.
I’m embroiled in a heated, senseless, circular war with my insurance company and pharmacy benefit (non)provider. Due to a convenient (and, I am convinced, fraudulent) loophole that said (non)provider has created for itself, the medication that was helping me function almost normally despite my autoimmune issues is not being paid for, and quite frankly I don’t have an extra thousand dollars or so a month to pay for it myself. So I am unmedicated and engaging in a daily round of non-productive phone calls with all three participants (moronic insurance company, intransigent nonprovider, and bewildered nonprovider’s scapegoat)…and I am exhausted. I’m sure most people would just throw up their hands and give up – which, I am sure, is what they count on. Unfortunately (for them) I am at heart a viciously stubborn, contrary, bloody-minded bitch…so the war will continue and it’s going to get progressively less pleasant for those unlucky enough to be receiving my endless telephone calls. [Note: I do not normally advocate, or even tolerate, rudeness to people who are honestly just trying to do their jobs. I recognize that I am not speaking to the decision-makers, but rather the unfortunate flunkies who get to take my irate calls and deliver the message they’ve been tasked with delivering. However, I have reached a point at which my careful Southern upbringing has ceased to restrain my inner snarling bitch, and I’m becoming less gracious and ladylike every day. If this doesn’t get resolved soon, I’m going to end up as Ann Coulter…or possibly Rosie O’Donnell…) Oh, and the icing on the cake? In two weeks, when DH makes the jump, I’ll be uninsured for thirty days. So there’s a good chance the insurance issue will be resolved just in time for the coverage to no longer be in effect. So I’m probably looking at being unmedicated for at least another sixty days, assuming the new insurance lacks the general f**kwittage of my current insurance…and I’m not entirely willing to make that assumption.
So there’s that. Also, my husband is going to be moving to Oklahoma in three weeks, while the girls and I stay behind until June. I miss him already. So that’s making me emotional. Then there’s the stress of trying to sell the house and our lake cabin, as well as trying to find a new home (which is difficult because it’s hard to know if anything that’s on the market now will still be on the market whenever our place finally sells). Also, ED is turning eighteen, getting ready to graduate, and preparing for college…and YD is clearly beginning the long, soul-shredding segue into puberty. So I know that the next five months or so are going to be among the most trying of my entire life.
I’m up for it. I really am. I just seem to have moments when I forget that fact. My BFF is going through a similarly difficult time and unfortunately both our difficult times are of a type that conspire to keep us from spending any time together or even being able to talk regularly, so we can’t even offer the kind of support for each other that we’d like to. 2010 is not starting off quite the way I’d like for it to have done.
I am eating much better, and that’s something of a victory in the face of the emotional excesses in which I’ve been indulging. I haven’t been tempted much to drown my sorrows in crappy food, though I have had a glass or two of wine. So I’ve been eating awesomely clean, I’ve lost four pounds since Day One, and over the past week have mostly just maintained, which I’m very happy with. Maintenance, in the face of stress, is a huge victory for me. It’s not how I normally roll, frankly.
Workouts have not been so successful. I can honestly plead lack of time and too many other things I have to get done, though that doesn’t make me feel better. The real problem is that I just don’t want to work out. I want to sleep, and that’s all I want to do – which is a huge red flag right there. I am depressed and I recognize that; I know the signs and I’m familiar with the process. I’m irritated with everybody and I just don’t care about much of anything…I don’t want to do anything or go anywhere, I just want to crawl into bed and sleep till everything’s better. I know that’s not going to happen, but there it is – that’s how I feel. I know I can’t give into it – who has time? – and I do know all the things I need to do to drag my sorry ass out of the hole I’m in. I just have to decide it’s worth doing. I’ll get there. It may take a few days, but I’ll get there.
So on the whole, life is somewhat tense at the moment…but evidently I’m getting better at taking care of myself during the stressful times. Everything else aside, I’m pretty pleased about that. I’ll never make it to perfect, but if I’m making progress, then I guess that’s what counts.