After yesterday, I’m a little apprehensive about staying up until midnight partying with my friends. My very good friend always invites us to her family’s New Year’s Eve party. We play games all night and have a terrific time. There is no alcohol, which is a plus for me, of course. (Now that I’m on all this medication, no more alcohol. I actually miss the taste of a cold beer, but that’s beside the point.)
But, I asked my husband to please get me out of there before midnight. I think I’ll end up paying for it for days. As you’ve read, I’m not 100% yet, so I really have to watch what I do, because there are some effects that go on into the week. Problem is, when Tom tries to get me to go, I won’t want to. I told him to just hand me my coat.
Another thing I learned while in the Crisis Care Clinic–ask for help.
Today was supposed to be my first day back at church. I was apprehensive even last night, but I’ve resumed an almost regular day-to-day existence, so I thought maybe my apprehension was put there by the devil. He often tries to get me to come up with reasons not to go to church. (Doesn’t your back hurt a little? You didn’t get much sleep last night.)
This morning I was hit with the “everything that could go wrong will” gun. And, I did not act appropriately. My daughter messed around and didn’t get into the shower until there was no hot water left. My son came down ready to go in khaki pants that are too short (and he’s been told so previously). My daughter then came down in jeans. (We just haven’t gone that contemporary at our church yet.) I opened the closet to get out my coat and Battleship fell out with pieces flying. “Son of a b****! Who puts a game right at the door? I mean, Seriously!” was my response.
And then the tears started flowing. I hated how I had reacted to each of those “little” moments. I hated myself.
One of the things I learned while in the Crisis Care Clinic was I set my expectations too high. The psychiatrist informed me that I wouldn’t be back to normal until mid-January/early February. I guess he’s right. Who knew all that schooling he went through actually taught him something?
So, friends, I ask you to learn to listen to your body. If you aren’t ready for something, and the rest of the world thinks you should be, listen to what your body is telling you.
After everyone left for Sunday School and church, I realized that I had ignored example #976 that I’m still not 100%. I went to pour my morning cup of coffee, and it came out completely clear. I hadn’t even put coffee in the machine. I should have listened to my body.
Okay, this is what really made me start this blog-thing today. I am overweight. Apparently, I have hypo-thyroidism and I just found out. This may be part of my problem or maybe it’s not. Regardless, I have to shop in the Women’s department of most stores.
Today, I hit an after Christmas sale at a chain department store. In the 60% off section were some lovely items and I was thrilled with the finds! HOWEVER, may I please just let all the merchandisers out there know that not all WOMEN are grandmothers! Nor do we all like cats. So, really, we don’t want that kind of thing embroidered all over a sweatshirt. In fact, the embroidered sweatshirt went out (if it was ever in) in the 80’s when I was finishing up teaching 2nd grade. I had sweatshirts given to me as gifts that had kids embroidered on them and they were cute. So were the darling jumpers I wore. I don’t wear those anymore either. Nor do I want to. I was so tired of looking at this rack of clothes that was filled to the rim with “Grandmas Love Hugs” and “I Love Cats,” I thought I was going to hurl. How about one that has building blocks appliqued on it and says, “I’m in shape. Round is a shape.” I might have bought that one!
Now, I realize that the grandmothers that like to wear these things must buy their clothing somewhere. And, maybe I just happened to come in on the day they were letting these go. So, I’m not going to start a picket line or anything drastic like that. I just got tired of it. Hence the blog.
I’d love to hear from other-sized women that are tired of the same type of stereotyping in their departments. I know they are out there.
Sorry to go on and on about this. I’ll let you think about it while I go try on my new muu-muu.