Preparing for the New Year

I'm applying for a training position in Denver. It's a career transition, which makes it a stretch goal...but I've got to try. It's my passion.

We're adding a shower to a 1/2 bath downstairs to improve our "sellability."

I've searched Denver real estate for months and feel confident we'll be able to purchase a comfortable house.

My husband has apologized for the lousy year and agreed to get a full time job.

I'm hiring two senior sales managers who will be able to fill my shoes when I (eventually) leave.

I'm ready to put 2004 to bed and move on. Forward Ho.

Daydream Escapism

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I'm afraid my father is dying.

I spent 5 hours with him tonight after his release from the hospital. He is dizzy, nauseous and...bleeding. Profusely.

I'd wanted to spend the night at his place just to be sure that he is all right...but the heater is turned up to 88 degrees and my neck is tweeked from the couch. So instead, I'm home...and feeling morbidly guilty.

It's so hard for me to let go and accept that I cannot fix this or in some way make things better for him. He's in pain all of the time. Limited in his ability to get around. And very, very high-strung about his health issues. Even though he claims to be at peace with dying...that there is very little left for him in this world.

But I know differently. And I know that he knows differently too. Which makes it all even more sad.

2004: A Wild Ride

Have you ever been to Disneyland?

By today's standards, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride ranked as a pleasant roller coaster ride for the kiddies. But when you're young, all that you can remember is being jerked around a steel roller coaster track inside a darkened building. It was terrifyingly fun with lots of sharp corners, unexpected turns and belly-lurching drops. It promised moments of impending disaster at every corner.

Although this ride was shutdown and replaced in the late 90's...it has somehow reincarnated itself here...with me...and embedded itself into my life this year.

As proof, here is a glimpse into my often unexpected and frequently frightening year of 2004:

The Good:
Reaching out to my parents. Helping them move into an assisted care facility 5 miles from my home helped extinguish years of anger and resentment that boiled deep within my belly. My heart breaks to see their pain from growing old. Now, all I feel is compassion...the anger is g-o-n-e.

Inviting mom to live with us. It gave me an intimate glimpse into her pain from liver disease. Impatience and harshness have melted into love and concern.

My husband is an amazing man. He took mom to her doctor appointments, sat with her in the hospital emergency room many times, made midnight runs to the pharmacy, purchased Depends, and accompanied us on field trips (to get her out of the house). In many ways, this year fortified my marriage.

Work went well. I won several Kudo's for reorganizing the team and building two strong sales/customer service functions. Several systems across the country are now using us as the model. I also had the highest score on a management assessment. (Tied for 1st place with another colleague.) And I hit my numbers in 10 out of 12 months.

The Bad:
Plans to adopt were delayed so we could take care of my parents and complete an add-on.

My sister Denise had seriously low levels of iron and had a hysterectomy.

My sister Ann had surgery to remove an ovary and a separate mass on her fallopian tube was discovered. The biopsy confirmed it was pre-cancer, so she had a second surgery 2 months later for a full hysterectomy.

Three months after that, Ann fell and broke her femur. She now has a steel rod in her thigh that runs from her knee to her hip.

Ann was also hospitalized two other times when she lapsed into a deep diabetic coma. After five visits to the hospital this year, she now has exhausted her savings to pay off all of the bills. My blind, diabetic sister has nothing to fall back on.

Our plans to remodel and expand our house 500 square feet were cancelled. The financial pressure was too much for me...with my husband going 4 months without earning any income. This now means that we won't be able to adopt two babies unless we move.

My parents love their new home and have begged us to not move.

Dad insists on driving, at the ripe old age of 80. He can't walk, he can't hear, and he can't see. Nonetheless, the stellar State of California saw fit to renew his license 6 months ago.

Meanwhile, I rearended an older man who stopped in the middle of an intersection after taking off from a stop sign. I was turned to see oncoming traffic and didn't see that he stopped cold in front of me. My fault, minor damage.

Last week I was rearended myself by a 16 year old who was chatting on his cell phone. The neck still hurts and I'm slated to start physical therapy.

The Ugly:
Dad suffered a heart attack and can barely walk. He'll be transitioned into a wheelchair very soon.

My nephew was diagnosed with autism.

We discovered that my sister Ann has lied all year about seeing her diabetes doctor. Despite the hospitalizations and comas. All the while, Ann assured my other sister that she was going at least twice a month. The doctor confirmed this week that he hasn't seen or talked to Ann since April.

I was investigated for a charge of harassment by an employee who I was performance managing. The employee felt I was acting unfairly by monitoring his "field time." Turns out, he was going home everyday at 3pm to work another job. The investigation deemed the charges against me "unfounded."

My husband's business tanked.

The blood was overwhelming. It puddled on my floors, squirted onto the cabinets and began anew with every bandage replacement. If I never see blood again it will be too soon.

One of my supervisors turned out to be the Poster Child for passive-aggressive behavior. She threatened her direct reports to never report problems or complaints to me or the director...all while she habitually met with the VP to complain that my management style was squelching her "creative abilities. " Forget about the fact that she consistently missed her numbers. I was a Monster because I micro-managed her (we met weekly), edited her writing (it was poorly done and grammatically wrong) and made too many stringent rules (reps should be in the field by 9am). Oy vey.

I kept a lot of my anguish and discontent locked inside and gained weight.

The Future:
I had intended to be eloquent when writing this post but am somehow left feeling Mentally Vacant. If I was a negative person, I would say that this has been a rather shi**y year. Instead, I happen to think that my family is incredibly blessed to have survived so many issues.

A friend tells me that the lesson of 2004 is that I am stronger than I ever imagined. Perhaps. And perhaps this all may have merely been a preparation of What's To Come in 2005.

Another Wild Ride? We'll have to wait and see, I guess.

Ochophobia, Telephonophobia & Chronophobia.

The secret slipped out, and I learned that Dad had a minor heart attack on Wednesday. His surgery went well, and he is now back home and resting peacefully. The doctor was curious to know why his nitro was 3 years old (way beyond expired). I am interested in knowing why Dad chose to not mention that his "episode" was officially diagnosed.

This week was so completely overwhelming, I have very few words to share. I am afraid to drive, afraid to answer the phone, and wary of what next week might bring.

Come to think of it, I may also have Phobophobia too.

Another Snapshot.

Dad had intense chest pain last night and called 911. He's been in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests, including an angiogram that is scheduled for tomorrow morning. When I drove over to the emergency room last night, I completely broke down sobbing. I've tried to take my husband's insight to heart and not wallow in self-pity. However, the sadness was unbearable. I don't want time to march on, I don't want my dad to die. I want time to stand still....right now....and just hover in place with the status quo. I have this deep fear that one reaches a stage in life where circumstances shift and it's suddenly all about losing the things that are important and near and dear to our hearts. I don't want a downward slide. I don't want to lose anyone in my life, especially my family. This is the happiest and closest we have ever been. It's not perfect by any measure, but it's good and I want it to hold steady.

The results of my x-rays are in and I did not suffer a compression fracture from the accident. That's the good news. The bad news is that they discovered I have "arthritis of the neck." I'm going to have to Google that one, it's completely foreign to me.

My husband's parents sent us a case of buffalo meat. Steaks, burgers, stew. It seems appropriate to me that buffalo stew rhymes with...eeeewwww.

A Snapshot in Time.

My sister Denise made her daily, every-two-hours phone call to my other sister Ann and didn't receive an answer. Upon entering Ann's home, Denise heard heavy breathing. She found Ann face down on the floor in a deep, diabetic coma. She wasn't able to revive Ann nor could the paramedics. Ann is now in the hospital, revived but very shaken-up. Denise is home and near the breaking point. "What would have happened if she hadn't made that call?" None of us likes to ponder on the answer.

I was rear-ended Monday night by a 16 year old who was driving about 30mph. I was stopped at a red light in downtown San Jose. I have been in bed for almost 2 days now with whiplash. I can literally hear my neck sizzling. I am working very hard at focusing on the positive: The driver is covered under his mom's insurance. My car will be fully repaired. Insurance is covering my medical bills. My scheduled x-ray this afternoon will hopefully confirm all of the damage is muscular.

My 80 year old Dad is planning to ship his car up north and drive. The family has asked him to reconsider. He refuses. "The macular degeneration isn't that bad," he insists.

The general manager at mom's assisted care facility called to express her concern. My mom "appears to need psychiatric help." Meanwhile, mom has had a double-vessel nose bleed for almost 2 days.

Last week I met a gal who sleeps with earplugs....all because she saw a documentary on spiders laying eggs.

And how is YOUR week going?

All I Want for Christmas.

I have submitted my list.

My sisters are getting me this.
And husband is getting me this.

I've decided to let loose next year and release my inner cow-girl. I am more than a little bit country - I love country music, barn yard animals and grits. My hair is almost long enough to braid. And I plan to wear 501 jeans again in less than a year.

The boots and the hat will come later. And I still have my sights set on getting a goat.

Hello, Beautiful.

Buddies.

We don't allow the cats on the sink or the dinner table. Well...let's just say that I don't allow it.

My husband and Boss have something going on. Boss loves to sit on whatever my husband is doing...and he rarely gets scooted away. It's mutual admiration at the expense of conformity to the House Rules.

I take comfort in knowing that anyone reading this will not be eating here anytime soon.

I'm Molting

One night, several years ago I was lamenting to a girlfriend about my then-current emotional pain.

My friend listened patiently and then starting talking about crabs.

Crabs have to shed their shells in order to grow...a process that is called molting. After molting, the crab is pink and tender and full of water. Their new shell is very soft at first, making the crab vulnerable to predators, so they hide out in little niches and caves. After about a month, the shell becomes very hard and the crab is less tender, less vulnerable.

Not only does this process allow the crab to grow, it helps to get rid of barnacles and other things growing on the shell. Overall, crabs molt about 20 times throughout their life span.

The point my friend was attempting to make is that humans molt too. It's painful and we feel exposed and at risk. But it is the process that allows us to grow...to come out bigger and stronger in the end.

Right now, I am tender and vulnerable and hiding out. But I am growing stronger by the day. And I'm learning to accept that this process is a part of life - and not some indicator of my ineptness as a stable, human being.

The last nine days have been long and tedious. But the introspection has allowed me to finally speak the truth.

I am not unhappy because I am fat. I am fat, because I am unhappy.

Self-Pity

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
D. H. Lawrence

My family just held an Intervention. And I was the recipient.

They are "concerned about me." My stress is "obviously way too high." My eating habits "are compulsive" and I apparently "shove food down my throat in an effort to comfort myself."

When I walked through the front door tonight, my husband asked me what was wrong. I told him about the Intervention. He became angry. Apparently, I "listen to my family but I don't listen to him." And he's angry because I digested all that they said to me, all that they are afraid will happen to me.

I've been telling him for about a month that I can feel myself dying. I work. I commute. I eat. I sleep. I do a radio program once a week if I have the energy. And that's it. Certainly not the life I ever envisioned, nor one that I want, really.

I thought that moving to a more affordable city would help. But that even seems like an impossibility now that my parents live in town and are the happiest that I have ever seen them. I really, really don't want to change that.

I realized years ago that I am much better at helping other people reach their goals...than I am at helping myself do the same. And in many ways, I've seen that as my purpose in life. So, perhaps my path in life is to do just that. And to be satisfied by just that.

If only I could stop shoveling food into my mouth. If only I could find the energy and motivation to jump on that treadmill. If only I could relax and not worry so much. If only I could look into the future and feel confident that I was able to fix things in a way that worked as well for my husband as it did for me.

In the end, I'm grateful for the Intervention because I wasn't aware of my Conspicuous Mass Consumption.

Knowledge is good...right?