Tag: walk to wellness

Money Matters

Bones

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I just received news that the long awaited inheritance is now not far off – and that it is likely to be more than originally anticipated.

I freaked out.  Total meltdown.  Still am.  My brain is frazzled, I’m bouncing all over the show, and not all of it is delight.  A lot of it is anxiety.

While hand combing out knotted fur and rambling (surprisingly therapeutic) I realised that my anxiety with money and the lack thereof didn’t actually begin, as I thought, with Him, my narcissistic ex, but rather in my childhood.

I grew up lower middle class in a family of five – two siblings.  We were fed, we were clothed, we had school books and that adhesive sparkly wrap to make them more interesting than just exercise books.  We had healthy lunches.

We would walk to school, rain or shine, typically a 30 minute walk at a good clip.  Mum would walk to the green grocer to pick up veggies for our lunches, and to the butcher to get meats for our sandwiches.  She tried her hand at growing vegetables, but with her severe depression when I was growing up, it was difficult.  She would trawl op shops for clothing for us.  Once in a while I would get a new top or a new pair of pants, which were always from the cheaper shops.

I hated growing because it would mean new shoes, so I would wear the same shoes until my toes were curled in and it was too painful to wear the shoes.  We would drive for 30 minutes to the cheaper shoe shop and Mum would always be fussing over the price of things.  I would always pick the cheapest pair I could walk in.

It took me years before I finally asked to get a bra, and then it was only one.  Once I grew out of that, I would only ever have two bras, and I would wear them until they broke, because I hated shopping with Mum.  We would only ever go to the cheap stores when they were having really good sales.

I understand these are all sensible things to do, but to my growing brain, it was ‘you can’t get money spent on you, we don’t have enough’.  This has been emphasised over and over again in my life by people of great import.  If it weren’t for one of my oldest friends, I wouldn’t have a healthy relationship with money or spending at all.

Compound that with the last 13 years of being in debt with no savings to speak of and barely solvent, as well as, at some stages, barely having enough money to feed myself let alone my animals (they always came first), I have no fucking clue how to be a person with financial security and it scares the shit out of me.

I was gifted with a relatively significant sum when I was with Him from a family member passing.  I paid off my debt, and he insisted on going on holiday overseas and all these expensive things that of course he couldn’t pay for and I had the money so I should pay for them.  It was gone within two months.

I know it’s not going to happen this time, for one thing, I’m not with Him, and for another thing, it’s considerably more, but the fear is still there all the same.  Any sum of money I receive disappears.  POOF!  All gone, with nought but memories and a sour taste in my mouth.  And while intellectually I know it’s not going to happen this time, there is still the overwhelming terror of it all just disappearing.

And of the unknown, this mythical financial security thing that, at 33, I have never felt like I have had.  Even the idea of it is scary.  What do I do with myself?  How to I live without the looming fear of debt, the worry over whether or not I can afford to buy cat food this week?  How do I live if not paycheck to paycheck?

This is entirely new and terrifying territory.  Because I know I am overwhelmed and can’t process this information myself, I will book an appointment with my counsellor for the extra help.  There’s a lot going on here, and this should be an amazing and exciting thing, but it’s not.

Fibromyalgia, Stress, and Exhaustion

Bones

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I had some news on Wednesday that reminded me of my beloved pets’ health, the fact that they are old, with many of the associated diseases, and had a realisation about their mortality.

You don’t think about it that often.  Or at least I don’t.  I’ve had one of my cats since he was barely a month old, and my other since she was 2.  I’ve had my dog since she was 6 months.  My derpy boy is now 13, my girly cat 15, and my pupper coming up to 6 years old.  They’re starting to get into their ‘geriatric’ years.  Both of my cats have geriatric diseases – hyperthyroidism and renal failure (to differing levels) – and my girly cat has other serious problems with her back and legs.

It hit me like a Volvo truck to the face.  They’re old.  They’re going to die.  If I’m lucky I’ll get another 3-6 years out of any of them.  But sometime soon they are going to die, and I’m not ready for that.  I’m not ready for my babies, who I’ve had since they were so young, to be old.

So I did what all people do when they’re faced with mortality: I had a meltdown.  I sobbed.  I curled up and rocked for a bit.  Then I sat and put on high quality distractions so I could just exist as a brainless blob for the rest of the day.  By the time I was due to go to sleep, I was already aching.

The next day, yesterday, was agonising.  The stress kicked off a flare.  All my joints were stiff and muscles burned.  My head was foggy.  I could hardly see straight, let alone keep my eyes open.  After a few hours of fighting the fatigue, I curled up on the couch and slept for 5 hours.  I was still incredibly dizzy and exhausted, so I continued my blob.  I slept like the dead.

Well today I’m still overly fatigued and my entire body feels heavy.  Even typing is hard today, and I strongly suspect another nap is in order, despite the long sleep I had last night.  My joints are still stiff and achy, especially my knees and hips.  My motivation levels have completely bottomed out.  My ability to do even easy things, like play a game, is completely nonexistent.

And the only thing I can do is ride it out.  I’ve had to put on hold all the things I needed to get done because I just can’t.  Some of them involve driving for hours and heavy digging, which I can do on a good day, but holy hells bells I can’t do when I’m like this.

When this kind of thing happens you can either fight it or relax into it and embrace it.  I’m still working on the relaxing into it, I really have to force myself.  But it’s better to relax into it than to try and fight it!

The Importance Of The Outside

Bones

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I moved house three months ago.  Well, I should say, we moved house three months ago.  We moved from a small, 70s built house with a very small lawn (2x3m, with a 1.5x10m run down the side) into a large, 60s built house with retrofitted double glazing, a catio (a patio that’s fully enclosed to allow cats outside time without them being free-roaming), three lawns, multiple edged and established (but overrun and very confused) gardens, a rose bush taller than the house, and two raised garden beds fenced off down the back.  We have apples and pears, an olive tree (I still don’t get this one), so many magnolias of different colours, roses popping up out of trees, and a loquot.  We also have a fig tree stump with a lone fig stubbornly growing on it.  Oh, and a grape vine!

This garden is a mishmash of things and it is very overgrown with ivy and jasmine and weeds and I have never gardened before in my life.  The closest thing I had to a garden before now is my small collection of succulents who, despite all neglect from me, have continued to survive.

Now I have an established and overrun garden to manage.  And I never knew how much I needed it until I had it.

I grew up in a large, old, draughty villa with a 1/4 acre section and a veggie patch.  There were trees I would scale all the way up until I was too “cool” to do so (around aged 15-16, I was a slow bloomer), a cinderblock I would use to contain any fires I lit just because I could, and an overgrown section down the back end of the garden that I could hack at with my trusty home made wooden samurai sword (whittled out of a branch courtesy of one of my friends).

My holidays were spent at the beach.  We had a small, lockwood holiday home within 5 minutes walk of a quiet beach.  There was no TV, no dialup internet or world wide web (in fact, some of this took place before those days!), and mobile phones were still a pipe dream.  We had to make our own fun.

What I’m trying to express here is that I grew up in and around nature in every part of my life.  I was a hippy child, a wild child – give me some rocks and I’d scramble up them faster than you could say “that’s a big rock”, and I would try to climb every tree.  Most of the time I was even successful.

As I got older I withdrew from the outside more and more, finding solace for my teenage angst on the internet and the people there.  I had an Angelfire Page – actually I probably had about five.  I was onboard when MySpace first came out, and Live Journal.  I was on Yahoo Groups and DeviantArt.

I stopped going to the beach for the holidays.  I stopped going outside.

I moved into a tiny little cupboard of a room in an awful little apartment with only concrete and horrifically overgrown “gardens” to speak of.  Then into a house with a single tree and a lawn you couldn’t even swing a cat in.  Next up was a house with a bush back section and a small raised lawn, then apartments.  I became “modernised”.

That little wild child who lit fires in the garden and ran on the beach and screamed into the wind because it was fun just … withered.  And died.

Looking back knowing what I know now, I suspect a lot of that was to do with my fibromyalgia, the incredible stress of working full time in a highly demanding job, and the stress and anxiety of being with a narcissist.

Regardless, I neglected an important part of me, that little hippy girl, and it took moving to this house to realise it.

She’s slowly coming back, that dirt grubber, with every step I take on soil without shoes and every weed I pull out without gloves.  With every time I sit in front of the open doors to the catio and breathe in the fresh country air and admire the green that creeps everywhere.

She is slowly coming back, and with her, I become more grounded.  More robust and at peace with my life.

The importance of the outside is, to me, immeasurable.

Deep Tissue Massage for Fibromyalgia

Bones

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My acupuncturist had a family emergency last month which meant he was off for about three weeks.  During that time I had some fairly considerable trigeminal neuralgia flareups and, in a pain induced panic, decided I must see someone … just not someone with needles.

I looked around online for massage therapists near me and stumbled across this one particular one that had good reviews and wasn’t overly expensive.  I got an appointment for the next day and went in, hoping some massage would ease the fire in my face.

It didn’t.  Oh boy did it not.  What it did do, however, was loosen some knots that haven’t been released in decades, knots my shiatsu massager just would never be able to reach.

Now I’m not talking about your normal relaxation massage where you go in and they kneed you for an hour.  No, I’m talking about the massage where the therapist actively finds the painful spots and then digs her thumbs into them for an hour.  It’s painful.  I make some truly spectacular noises and groans of “oh god” while she’s doing this.  It’s amazing.

I left feeling battered and bruised and nauseated, like I always do with any body work that releases tension, but after a few days I felt revivified!  I went back the next week.

This time she discovered even more knots.  See, now that she’d begun relaxing the superficial layer, she was able to find the deep knots, the ones that cause problems.  The ones that haven’t seen the light of day (or rather, felt the “tender” touch of a massage therapist) for decades, nay, eons!  Well after this session I felt so light headed and dizzy I couldn’t quite function for the rest of the day, or the next three days after that.  She’d knocked something loose in my back that had really done my head in.

I’ve just revisited her today and I am definitely noticing an improvement in how my body feels, despite the pain from coming off Tegretol (another blog post in and of itself!).  I’m also noticing an improvement in how my body moves, which is really rewarding.

My theory is this:  I have a lot of knots.  I have a lot of muscle tension.  I have a lot of muscle fuckery.  This will all be amplified by fibromyalgia, causing me both excessive pain, and excessive stiffness.  If I can work out these knots, release this tension, and improve my muscle health through deep tissue massage and gentle exercise, this will reduce the level of pain I will experience from fibromyalgia, because there is less muscle pathology.

So far I think it’s working?  It’s a bit hard to tell, what with exams, the stress of losing a friend, and coming off Tegretol.  To be honest I’m just throwing everything I can think of at my fibromyalgia and trigeminal neuralgia and hoping something sticks, so identifying exactly what is having exactly how much of a positive impact is going to be a bit tricky.  Here’s hoping the deep tissue massage sticks!

Either way, it’s making me feel better, and that’s the most important thing right now.

Today I Lost A Friend (And I Caused It)

Bones

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Today I lost a friend, and I caused that loss.  I’m sad.  Actually, more devastated.  She has been my very close friend throughout this year at university, but prior to that we were friends for about 3 years.

We were going to do a thing together, one that had major financial implications for me, and a lot of time investment from her.  I decided it was not going to work for me, it was not something I wanted to do at all, I told her before she devoted herself to it.  We’d both put some time into it, her more than I, and she’d put some money into it, but neither of us would lose a huge amount.

I decided it wasn’t going to work for me for a number of reasons, some of which were friendship problems (I didn’t think our friendship would survive the business relationship), and the other of which I would be putting in a lot of money that I would rather put to use elsewhere.  Like a deposit for buying my first house.  Or implement some new thing to help with my fibromyalgia or trigeminal neuralgia.

Talking to other friends (right now) is making me realise there were other cracks in our friendship long before now.  There were controlling aspects, an imbalance in the dynamic of the relationship (I was assigned the role of helpless invalid which, at the time, I must admit I was, but it never changed as I became less helpless).

There was an issue wherein she demanded control over my actions and I did not cede to it, because my assessment of the situation was different to hers.  This was a major point of contention, with her continually stating that I had a fear of losing control, that I did not trust her because I did not relinquish complete control to her, and that that was hurtful.  I hadn’t realised until now how manipulative that is.

Okay, so I lost someone I felt was a very close friend because I put myself first in a situation that would have a major impact on me and said this is not something I am going to do.  I want to keep the friendship, and I do not feel it will survive a business partnership, and I am unwilling to mix those.  Therefore I will not do it.

She noped right out the door and locked it after her.  And damn if that doesn’t hurt.