Author, Historian, Storyteller

I love a good check list. The satisfaction that I get by crossing something off a list is probably the greatest motivator that I have to do anything on the list in the first place. Because of this, I keep lists for everything, and the granddaddy of all of my lists is my To-Do List. This list covers a month at a time, and contains items from every aspect of my life. As soon as I’m done writing this blog, I’ll get to cross that item off the list. Everything that takes more than five minutes to accomplish goes on the list. EVERYTHING.

The easy tasks almost always get done because they’re easy and I like crossing things off. FYI, you should always have easy tasks on your list for those moments when you start to feel overwhelmed and need an easy win. Why yes, I did “dust something,” cross that sucker off! There are the mundane tasks, like laundry, that get done because if you don’t you’ll have to go to work naked and that would just be awkward. Then there are the tasks that have deadlines. I love deadlines. I am a master procrastinator, so deadlines keep me productive. Seriously, embrace the deadlines my friends. These things get crossed off my list regularly, and unless some emergency crops up, they generally get done on the day they’re listed. I like these items.

Then there is my list nemesis … the lingering to-do. These are things that I should get done. They are generally pretty involved, have no immediate consequence if it isn’t done, and have no deadline. These are things like rearrange my closet. This isn’t a pressing need, but it would make my life infinitely easier every time I had to get something from in there, if I just took an evening to rearrange the damn thing. But when that to-do shows up on my list, I know that it can be put off, so I watch a movie instead. That’s how these items just linger. They don’t get done on the day assigned, so I move them down to a future day. That day rolls around, and I simply bump it down once more. And I do this with every lingering to-do I have.

The next thing I know, it’s the end of the month and all of these linger-ers are piled up as sub-listings under the item, “Make New To-Do List,” because I’ve run out of days to move them to. This happens every month! And every month, I dutifully assign the tasks to a new day in the new month and vow to myself that this time I will actually get them done.

That being said, it’s the end of the month and I am vowing that February will be the month that I actually get these things down. February will be the month that annihilate the lingering to-dos! You all are my witnesses, which probably just means that I’ll have witnesses to my failure, but here’s to hoping it lends a little bit of accountability to the effort. Cross your fingers for me!

I think the most frustrating thing for me about living with chronic illness, is not the illness itself, but having to constantly explain why I’m still sick. To have to constantly apologize that circumstances have not changed and that there is nothing that I can do about it. That I am doing everything in my power, and none of it is working. Or it works for a little bit and everything is great, and then it stops working. That no, upping the dose is not the answer. Yes, I tried it. Yes, I’ve tried all of the dozens of suggestions you have, plus dozens more. Right now, this is as good as it gets.

Yes, my thyroid has been tested, it works just fine. It’s my adrenal glands that don’t work. No, I have no idea why my body functions differently than everybody else. Yes, I’m working with a trained medical professional. No, she doesn’t know why my body is functioning abnormally either. Yes, my doctor knows what she’s doing. Yes, I saw multiple doctors before I picked her. Yes, I did my research and picked her carefully to make sure she was exactly the right doctor for me. Yes, she has helped.

How? Okay, let me dive into the history of my treatment with her, how much time to do you have? Should I include supplements/medicines we’ve tried and all of the different testing that’s been done, or are you looking for more of the Reader’s Digest version of the past two years and thousands of dollars of care? Trust me, I am more aware than anybody else that this has been going on for two years.

Yes, I’m on medicine and supplements. Yes, I’m buying the good quality ones and not the knock-offs at the drug store. In fact, I spend more each month on those than I do on food. No, I’m not going out partying in my time off. I’m too exhausted to go out partying. Not to mention, I can’t afford to go out partying because all of my money goes towards the appointments, the tests, the supplements and medicines that work well enough to keep me upright and looking healthy, but don’t actually make me consistently feel healthy. And the oh so wonderful side effect of all it, is that I get to explain this all over again ever month or so, because I don’t look sick, so why am I not better? I have no idea. I am doing the best that I can and I’m sorry that it’s not good enough for you.

Yes, I will keep you updated. I’ll pencil in this exact conversation for next month.

I am a huge proponent of therapy. I truly believe that at one point or another, no matter how perfect and magical your life is, every person can benefit from talking with a therapist. There is just something about knowing that there is someone out there to whom you can confide all of the things in your head that you barely even want to admit to yourself, much less to somebody else. There is someone that you can confide those things to, and your secret is safe, because by law, they can’t tell anybody! Not only can’t they tell anybody, but they’ll talk through the issue with you. It is amazing how much relief can be had from telling a therapist something that makes you a freak or a bad person and then hearing the therapist say, “Oh, yeah. That’s normal.”

There are so many things that we as a society deem inappropriate to talk about, that we walk around thinking we’re all alone and something is wrong with us, when chances are half the population is having the exact same thoughts. It’s crazy! And a trained professional telling you that you’re normal carries so much more clout than if a friend were to say the exact same thing. Working with a good therapist can truly change your life for the better.

However, you knew that was coming, I always hit a certain point while working through past crap and relearning healthier ways of thinking/behaving, that I just get so sick of rehashing the past. I get it, it’s good work. It’s work that needs to be done at one point or another, and just when you think you’re done something else comes up. My PTSD unleashed several repressed memories. Those are fun.

But despite the fact that I know it’s good for me, and I know in the long run I’ll be glad I did it, I am to the point that I don’t want to think about and focus on the crap anymore. I almost feel like telling myself to stop whining. Seriously, get over it already! And then I realize that I sound like every well-intentioned – or completely clueless – person that has ever told me to do the same thing.

“Just think about the good things. Be happy.”

“Forget about it and move on.”

“Maybe some exercise out in the sun will help!”

So I don’t know. Can you simply decide to get over it and be done? Have you ever reached that stage in therapy?

If you compliment something I’m wearing, or my purse, or a piece of jewelry, I’m likely going to offer up an interesting fact about it. I’m just that person. I’ve come to embrace it. What kind of facts, you ask? Things like, “You can still get it at Target,” or “I got it on sale for $3!” or “My best friend gave it to me for my birthday.” I have no idea why I do this, I guess my brain likes to make associations. 99% of the time, I have no qualms with this little peccadillo. But the 1% drives me insane.

I have this fantastic skirt. It’s classy, hugs my curves in all the right places and flares out with a subdued, yet feminine ruffle at the knee. It’s dark gray with black specks and made of raw silk so you can dress it up or down. Best yet, it is comfortable! Really, the only flaw in its design is that it doesn’t have pockets. However, with all of its other attributes, I’m willing to let that slide. The thing is, I hardly ever wear it. Maybe once or twice a year, tops. I always see it hanging there, admire it for a moment and then move on to something else. Wanna know why? It is the 1% that drives me insane because I wore the damn thing to my mother’s funeral.

Any other interesting fact about that skirt gets trumped by the fact that I wore it to my mother’s funeral, so that’s the fact that pops into my head. It doesn’t make me sad or bring up the emotions from that day, it’s simply a factoid. You compliment my glasses, I tell you that I got them for free because Lenscrafters broke my other frames while trying to fix them. You compliment my cute brown loafers, I tell you that I got them for half off on Zulily. You compliment my gray skirt . . . you know how this ends. Now truth be told, nobody has ever complimented me on my cute brown loafers. Mostly because I don’t think anyone else thinks they’re cute. There’s no accounting for taste (you can decide whose in this scenario.)

So if I had worn the brown loafers to my mother’s funeral, I would have zero problems. However, the damn skirt is so cute that I inevitably get 2-3 compliments on it every time I wear it. Then I have to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out, “I wore it to my mom’s funeral.” Because let’s face it, that would be awkward. Nothing puts a damper on a conversation like playing the dead mother card. Especially when it’s a complete stranger in the bathroom! Nobody wants to hear where I wore the skirt, they just want to tell me that it is super cute.

So I bite my tongue and move on with my day. Then somebody else says something and I bite my tongue again. This goes on all day until I get home and just to relieve the tension that has built up, I tell my dogs that I wore the stupid skirt to my mom’s funeral and I’m never wearing it again because it’s exhausting! And they wag their tails, give me kisses and don’t care that I said something macabre, because they’re dogs. Which just proves that dogs are easier than people.

If you haven’t already guessed, I recently wore that skirt and have thus been traumatized once more by the experience. I would get rid of it instead of ranting here, but it’s just so damn cute! Life is hard.