Rat's ass, flying f***, etc.

Vintage scarf with a design I thought was cool, and now adorns my office :)

I've decided that not giving a fuck is like, our calling in life as human beings. Now hear me out please. I'm not suggesting that we hurt other people, but that we stop having freak-outs over all of the things we think might happen, or what people might think, or might do. Maybe something will happen that is difficult, or even unmanageable, but let's get to that when it comes, not years before. Think of all your wasted anxiety on things that never came to be, how much sleep you lost, how little you ate, how much you cried, etc, etc, etc.

So I may, or may not, have had a seizure a couple weeks ago in yoga, and this possible seizure has created a whole host of problems for me, the least of which is the totally inappropriate time at which this all happened. It seriously has put me over the edge. Suddenly, I have to deal with all of these tests and doctors, unexpected medical bills, rescheduling a whole host of appointments for work, and it's all a pain in the ass.

But here's the deal: all of the things that I've been stressing out about at work have fallen by the wayside. Suddenly I have no room for the extra anxiety of thinking about what people might be thinking about me. I think it actually makes me do my job better. Suddenly, I've stopped giving a fuck, and it's a wonderful thing. I keep imagining that this is what eighty-year-old women feel like.

Also, my hair just keeps looking awesome, so that helps too.

Peace out :)

Macaroni & Cheese

I'm thinking about getting myself a personal masseuse :)

So I'm sitting here drinking wine. I can't remember the last time I bought alcohol with the intent to actually drink it, but here I am, quite happy.

Last year, at the end of the day, it was sometimes hard to go to yoga (maybe it'll get more difficult when dumb daylight savings happens) after work, but I'm starting to need it to get through the day with enough energy to do another one tomorrow. I've got to hand it to the annoying adults in my life; I really didn't know what was coming. Being whole and present all the time is awesome, but it also means that I have to get up every morning and go to work. I have to show up every day, the same way I did the day before. It can get old after a while, the sameness of it.

My childhood made me very comfortable with chaos, with freaking out about little things. But now, there is no room to flip out about the little things. I have to spare my energy for the important things, the people in need, and my own health. So when I had health insurance troubles for the umpteenth time this afternoon, I didn't have room to lose it. I had to keep moving forward, keep going to meetings, keep doing my job, keep being constant and stable.

But after all of that, I went to yoga, and admitted to everyone that yes, I was feeling "poo poo" about everything. Then I made macaroni and cheese (I still haven't stopped being in love with Daiya), wrote a poem, drank some wine, and now I'm done.

Peace out.

B I K R A M

Revue Eyeglass frames, from France!

My bff has become completely and totally a Bikram convert. She talks about it all the time. I've been hearing about it for three straight weeks. And since I'm already a wannabe yogi, I figured it was worth my time to give the whole thing a shot. I knew what I was getting into. It would be hot. I needed to be still. I needed to be prepared to sweat a lot without wiping it away, etc, etc. So I waited until I was actually up to the challenge, and went to the studio yesterday afternoon.

It felt like I walked into an oven. It felt oppressive without moving. I've lived in hot, humid places. I've exercised in said places. But I was not prepared for the heat of that room. It was unlike anything I have ever felt, save the moment I stepped off the plane into the equatorial heat of West Brazil six short years ago. But I was committed, and I didn't doubt that I could do it. And I was able to do the first maybe 25% of the poses, when I stood up and felt sick to my stomach. I knew my blood sugar had plunged, and I knew that I had to get out of that room, but the teacher told me to stay and sit, and I did not feel like I could do anything else. So I sat, and I sat, and held back tears that came out of nowhere.

Eventually, I caught the teacher's eye and asked if I could leave. Her response was not positive, but I was adamant. I knew I needed to check my blood sugar, and I needed to not feel so sick for another minute. I sat for a while in the front room, and drank my water. My sugar was 75, which is not pre-comatose, but not okay to keep going in the negative direction. I had to leave. I had to go home.

I wailed all the way home. It was bizarre. There were no feelings or thoughts associated with the wailing, just a raw, guttural noise from my soul. Eventually, it ended, and I ate dinner, and slept through the night.

It wasn't a good day to go, and I want to go back. But I don't know when I'll feel up to it. I think that heat is a really big stressor to my body, and I'll have to be in a perfect place blood-sugar and energy wise before I try again. It's difficult for me to accept defeat, even temporarily, but if I'm learning anything at this point in my life, it's that I need to have patience to get the things I want.

Peace out :)

Post flea market meltdown

I feel so bad right now. The flea market was so much work, and not worth the time and energy in the end, which makes me feel like I can't keep doing this reselling thing. I'm fooling myself to believe that I can continue to support myself this way. I couldn't pay my rent this month. I had to ask for help, and now I feel like this thing that I love so much has quickly become the thorn in my side.

I feel like my needs are exponentially greater than I can possibly meet. I need a job with health insurance, but I don't qualify for jobs that offer it. I'm stuck with a masters degree and now I'm almost thirty and my body is falling apart, and I need health care more than ever, and I'm less able to get it every day. I have less than three months to solve this problem, and now it feels like the sky is falling.

I need to eat, but my body doesn't want to eat because it's hot and I feel sick, but my mood is directly related to my food intake.

That's all for now.

Actual Postscript: Um, I just looked over my posts over the last week and it appears that I am having a total breakdown. I'm not. I'm functional, but graduation has taken the wind out of my sails. This too shall pass, I assume, as it always does.

Universal health care is for commies.

 

Megan: "I would like to refill a prescription."

Pharmacy: "Oh, that seems like a normal request. Let us take care of that for you."

Insurance Company: "We do not believe that this person requires this prescription."

Pharmacy: "Oh, okay...Hey, Megan, the insurance company won't cover the prescription you've been receiving for the past ten years. They need more information about the status of your need for this prescription."

Megan: "It's for test strips, you know, for my chronic diabetes. I get them all the freakin' time."

Pharmacy: "We'll have to get back to you. In the meantime, try not to die."

Totally freakin' out!

 

So I'm graduating soon, and I am having a moment of terrifying fear. Ack! So scary! What will I do? Where will I go? How will I get there? Will I be prepared? Who will be my friends when I arrive?

There was talk at the dinner table of me going online and finding a nice Canadian gentleman to wed and give me health insurance. There are non-crazies out there who would love to get with a nice Californian girl, yeah?

Thoughts, anyone?