Even though my Get a Grip book says I should. Sorry, arms/wrists/hands are hurting too badly to spend any more time typing unless absolutely necessary. Anxious to see the neurologist next week and find out for sure what is going on.
No, really. A friend of mine and I agreed to buy and follow the assignments in this book: Get a Grip: Your Two Week Mental Makeover. Granted, that was more than 6 months ago, before life as I knew it took an even bigger turn for the worse. So, now, since I’m no longer going to counseling and the SOS Group was a bust because of my insane work schedule, I thought I’d dust this book off and give it a shot. Since it requires daily journaling, I thought it might also be a good opportunity for me to dust this blog off as well. I know venting here has always been therapeutic for me, but I never seem to make the time for it, or for myself, anymore. So here we go again…
To begin with, the first exercise requires that I take a moment to figure out how I really am…not the standard, “Oh I’m fine, how are you?” that comes out of my mouth every day when asked the question. But the real, honest to goodness answer. And then to spend some time answering WHY. I actually have a hard time when people ask how I am because I know they don’t really want an answer other than the expected courteous response of fine, good, great, etc. I have a hard time with the fake answer because I know I am none of those things. I’m not fine. I’m not good. And I sure as hell am not great. I’m a mess. The WHYs? I’ve overworked myself, thanks to my boss and her insane deadlines and expectations, to the point of mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion. I’m sad because I know this is no way to live. I’m frustrated because I have to pay the bills somehow. And underneath all of that, I’m depressed because I miss my best friend, Red. And I’m still so very pissed off at her for leaving me to deal with this shitty life all alone.
I alluded to it here when it happened, but haven’t actually written about it yet because my feelings are still all over the place. And still so raw and hurt and overwhelmingly heartbroken and sad. On December 1, while she was on her self-proclaimed trip of a lifetime to her dream destination in Italy, right before she was supposed to come home, my sweet friend decided to swallow a bunch of pills, some wine, and who knows what else, and end her life. I was at the dr’s office that day, for some extreme pain I’d been having in my arms (beginnings of carpal tunnel was the guess….diagnosis was reduce my stress level and get massages). When I left the dr’s office, I noticed I had a text message from Mr. Red. I found that odd because he and I had not really talked at all since he and Red seperated. My first thought, knowing that she was due to return home from her trip soon, was that maybe he was looking for someone to pick her up from the airport. Estranged though they were, they were still civil and sharing custody of their almost-at-the-time 5 year old son. Mr Red and Little Red had taken her to the airport to begin her trip the week of Thanksgiving. So all I can think is that he needed me to pick her up. So I clicked on the message to read his text…
The first few words were the worst kick to the gut I can describe: Red just passed away in Italy. I couldn’t comprehend what that could mean, in the split second it took to read that, my mind was trying to come up with all kinds of explanations, a car wreck, anything, and at the same time, my mind was rejecting the very idea that anything could have happened to her. The next few lines said she killed herself by overdose and that Mr Red was at the airport heading to Italy to bring her home. Tears were already pouring out of my eyes, but I still did not believe this could be anything but some sick joke. I immediatley called Mr Red demanding that he take it back. His voice was so strange, I know he was in shock. I got to talk to him for less than a minute…he was literally boarding the plane. He had a stop in Germany and then would be in Italy by early the next morning Central time. I hung up the phone and screamed at the top of my lungs. Crying. Begging that this not be true. It had started raining by that time. So there I was, sitting in my car in the parking lot outside the dr’s office, screaming and howling in pain, hitting the steering wheel, hitting the seat, hitting the door, in disbelief and anguish.
More out of instinct than any clear thought, I called my parents. I needed to talk to someone. I got their voicemail and left some incoherent wailing message that Red was dead. In hindsight, not a good message to leave on someone’s answering machine. Especially my parents who are 5 hours away. My oldest brother, Dilbert, was in town for meetings that day and was coming back to stay at my house that evening. So I sent him a text to see if he was at my house or still in his meetings. I was hoping he was at my house and could come get me because I knew I couldn’t drive myself home in that state, in the rain. He replied that he was in meeting so I said nevermind. He must have had some sixth sense because he asked what was up. I had to tell someone. I had to get it out, so I responded that Red was dead. It took me several minutes to type those three words…each letter was a dagger to my heart. Almost immediately after hitting send, my phone rang. Dilbert had stepped out of the meeting to call me. I was hysterical and just kept screaming she’s dead. she’s fucking dead. He tried to help me calm down, figure out where I was and told me he would be at my house within about 40 minutes. I sat in the car screaming and crying and hyperventilating for some amount of time that felt like eternity. Finally I managed to pull it together enough to make the short drive to my house.
I remember, I posted on her facebook page, “someone please tell me this is a sick joke. please.” Her aunt, who I’d never met before but heard of a few times, replied and said she was hoping the same thing. I also had some cryptic message as my status that said something similar. My friend, Mexigoalie, texted to ask if I was ok. I said no, but it was not me. It was Red. He asked, I think as a joke, is she alive? Again, it took an eternity to type two letters: NO. My mom had called by that time, trying to find out what the hell was going on. There were so many calls and emails and text messages I can’t keep them all straight. Other than my mom, brother, and a few friends, I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t know very much…only a few quick words from her husband. I was convinced that he was going to arrive in Italy and find that it was all some horrible mistake. The wrong person. Or that she was really fine. I just knew it. She had to be ok.
I got a text from Mr Red in the early hours of the morning. He was in Italy and about to go to the hospital where she was. Next, he was there and had been given her belongings that were with her at the hospital…watch, jewlery, etc. Letters she had left for their son. He was waiting to see her but they were doing an autopsy. I refused to belive it was real. He hadn’t actually seen her yet, so there could still be some mistake.
I called him at his hotel in Italy later that night. He had seen her. Had held her hand. Had told her he loved her. She was really gone. He was so choked up with emotion I could barely understand him. He was there, in Italy, far from home and all alone and had just had to go identify his dead wife. To this day, I don’t know how he did it. He had been to her hotel to get her things there. The mess he described in her room. I was collapsing with grief just hearing about it. He had to be there. His dad was able to fly out the next day to be there and support him through this, so I was grateful for that.
It wasn’t until Mr Red got back home that I learned more details. Apparently, she had overdosed a few days prior. They had called Mr Red, said she’d thrown up a lot at the hotel and had her stomach pumped in the hospital. She was pretty out of it, but they thought she was going to be ok. He even got to talk to her on the phone briefly. He said she slurred badly but made a joke that she guessed she was going to be in Italy a little longer than he thought. He talked to her again briefly the next day. I still don’t know to what degree she was conscious or even coherent. I have so many questions, but Mr Red doesn’t want to talk about it. But basically, he had called her aunt to see if she could come to Dallas to help take care of Red for awhile. He was flying out to Italy to get her and bring her home. It was the day he was catching the plane. Literally minutes before boarding when the hospital called him back to say that she didn’t make it. That her heart just gave out. That she had died. That was when I got the text from him. He hadn’t told me anything prior to that because they thought she would be ok and he was just focused on getting her home. That quickly, his trip had a whole different purpose. People say it was tacky that he sent me that news in a text message. I understand though. He wanted to let me know but didn’t have time to talk and was about to be on an international flight. I don’t blame him for that.
He wasn’t able to bring her body home with him. The police had not released her yet. There was also a big mess with sorting things out with Customs that was taking awhile. So he came home without her. He was having her cremated and her ashes would be shipped to the US in a week or so. Her family (which is another story all-together…don’t get me started) threw a fit and tried to stop that, saying they would pay to have her body shipped back, not to cremate her, but Mr Red said that was what Red wanted and he would honor that. To hell with what her “family” wanted. Luckily, at least they seemed to back off and accept it once they understood that’s what Red wanted (or probably more likely what it would cost to ship her body back). That’s ugly for me to think that way, but I’ve heard next to nothing good about her family from her or anyone else so it is easy for me to think badly of them.
This is only the tip of the iceberg, but I’ve exhausted my hands (which have been almost worthless the last few weeks due to this carpal tunnel crap) and my heart enough for the time being. I’ll write more about it tomorrow, because I know I need to get these things out. And there is just so much that I have been hesitant to write about it because I know it could fill hundreds of pages. I’m still constantly shifting between sadness and anger and guilt. It’s a never-ending cycle it seems. I keep thinking if she was here, I would kick her ass for doing this and then hug her and never let go.
I’ve never really lost anyone I was close to before. I mean really close to. Not to make light of my grandmothers that I’ve lost, but that was a completely different relationship. Red was truly the first and only REAL friend that I’ve made as an adult, since I moved to Dallas in 1998. She was the first person I felt truly “got” me and that I “got” in return. So much of that is in question now because I never would have even imagined she was capable of this. There was a quote we liked that said: Best friends, because our parents couldn’t have handled us as sisters. That’s really how I felt about her. She was the closest thing to a sister and I loved her as much as if she was my sister…I still do.
So fucking much.
Right now I can’t think of her without wanting to tell her to fuck off. And that is a terrible way to feel about a best friend. I am just so pissed off at her right now. And more skeletons are falling out of the closet, so to speak. Things she blatantly lied to me about. What makes it worse is some of those things were things that didn’t sit right with me at the time, but I took her at her word…why shouldn’t I? And because of the circumstances, so many things that only her husband and I know. Things I can’t really share with others that know her or her family. So I’ve got all these crazy feelings all jumbled up. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Heartache. Guilt. Failure. You name it.
Red was my partner in crime. My travel buddy. My touchstone. My sanity check. My sister at heart. The one person here that I could talk to about anything and never worry about her judging me or loving me any less. She is the person who normally helps me through hard times….and I THOUGHT I did the same for her. Then she bailed on me with this big fuck you. I’m lost without her and confused and hurt at the thought that I didn’t know her nearly as well as I thought and that I couldn’t save her from her demons. And I’m pissed at her for making me feel these things.
Just such a stupid pointless tragedy…and a precious little boy who has to grow up without ever really knowing his mother.
So many things have happened in the past month, even the past year, but none of them will ever come close to the devastating loss of my best friend. I know I need to write about it, to preserve my own memories, and perhaps as a way to help exorcise some of this pain.
I’m just not ready to do that yet. I have entirely too much anger in me right now….which turns into guilt, which turns into overwhelming sadness, which turns into anger again.
I was sitting here watching this cheesey movie, and one of the characters asked another if she believed in happy endings. I felt an overwhelming sadness as I realized that I don’t. Not anymore. I’m not even convinced I believe in happiness right now. I think maybe it’s just a myth.
Alrighty. Where was I? Duckie and Forensics were both on their way to my house…
And they both showed up at almost the same time. The forensics lady walked in with her kit and started dusting for prints and taking pictures of everything. Duckie and I stood outside for a minute while she was in the living room, then we went in and started looking around.
Clearly, my TV was gone. There was no doubt about that. It would be hard to misplace 56” of Samsung glory. I didn’t really notice anything else missing. The cabinet doors to the tv cabinet were all open, but there hadn’t been anything much in them to begin with. My Pee Wee Herman dvds were still there. 😛
After forensics was done in my office, Duckie and I went in there so I could start looking in my files for serial numbers for the tv and computer. It was such a mess in there already that it was hard to be sure what had been moved and what hadn’t. I knew my BAMF camera, Samuel L, had been sitting on the desk in front of my monitor when I left that morning. Earlier, when I discovered that the computer and monitor were gone, I automatically KNEW Samuel L was, too. While Duckie and I were looking around the room, I noticed the burglars had shoved a bunch of stuff over on my desk, presumably to get the monitor off easier. I was in complete and utter SHOCK to see my camera shoved to the side with all the other clutter. THEY DIDN’T TAKE MY BABY!!! It was a Christmas miracle! In September.
I had to move some things out of the way on the floor to get to my files. When I did, I saw a small black rectangle on the floor. Again, being the crime-show-watching-fool that I am, I didn’t dare touch it. Instead, I flipped it over with the end of a piece of paper. It was the USB part of my wireless mouse and keyboard…which was normally inserted into the front of the computer. Immediately Duckie and I became all excited, knowing that they had to have touched it to pull it out of the computer! We got the forensics lady to come back in and dust it, but she didn’t seem the slightest bit convinced that she’d find anything.
Apparently she didn’t. Not there. Not on the doors, or closets, or any other place that she dusted. If she did, she didn’t say so, and we never saw her lifting any prints either….assuming we would recognize that if we saw it. She left shortly afterwards.
I had told the officer about my comings and goings that day…what time I left the house and what time I returned home. And that there was a tree-cutting truck parked behind my house that morning. And about the 3 guys that were standing around outside of it. And that I had to ask them to move when, 30 minutes later, they were still standing around doing nothing and blocking my driveway. And about the fact that I never leave Loki in his crate while I’m gone…he’s almost always outside in the back yard. I gave her a description of the truck guys as best I could, but it was pretty generic.
She got all my information and said a detective would be contacting me within the next day or two. She said “this area has been getting hit pretty hard lately. But we’re doing the best we can.” She told me my best bet was if I could find the serial numbers and hope that the burglars tried to pawn something. Then she left. Duckie and I were both pretty disappointed that they didn’t do more. I was expecting them to take MY fingerprints for comparison. And to have dusted some of the other items that had clearly been touched. And to go talk to my neighbors to see if anyone saw or heard anything. But they didn’t.
Throughout this whole time, my cell phone had been ringing off the wall. I guess Mom had the best intentions when she posted about my plight on facebook, but I was really not in any position or state of mind to be answering calls from everyone I know checking to see if I was alright. THANK YOU, all, though for your concern!
Once the police were all gone, another neighbor came over to check on me and find out what happened. I finally answered a call from my brother, Red Baron, and filled him in on what was happening. And mostly just tried to calm down. Duckie kept saying, “It’s just stuff. At least you’re ok. The house is fine. Everything else can be replaced.” I knew he was right, but I couldn’t stop crying. Mostly I was just extremely PISSED off (and like my mother, I cry when I’m mad). I was just so upset that my HOME, the one place where I feel completely comfortable, had been violated. It didn’t feel like “home” at all anymore.
Duckie and I started inspecting the back door and pretty much determined that it had been kicked in, near the doorknob. There was about a 2 foot long split in the wood on the inside frame of the door below that. He managed to get the door to stay closed with the deadbolt locked. So at least I could close the house up. When he got ready to leave, he said I could come stay at his house that night, but I wanted to go through the house more and start trying to clean up the mess. I was trying to convince myself that I would sleep there, that these fools weren’t going to run me out of my house. And I figured that, later, if I felt uncomfortable, I’d give V a call, since she lives close by, and see if I could crash at her house.
So Duckie left and I began the process of going through the house and checking to see if anything else was missing. I started in the office, mainly because I was still trying to find serial numbers. I cleared off a spot on my desk and started sorting through papers. I had my work laptop with me and luckily my internet modem was still there and functioning, so I was able to get online and let everyone know I was ok. And to distract myself from reality for a little while!
As it started getting dark outside, I started getting less and less comfortable being there. I had let Loki out and had a minor anxiety attack when I went to open the back door to let him back inside. Shortly after that, I got a text from Jen, offering me and Loki a room at her hotel. Apparently she had sent it earlier but to the wrong person. So I decided I would go ahead and do that. As I was getting a few things together to take with me, I noticed that one of my small, older digital cameras (aka the little green machine) wasn’t sitting on the shelf of my desk where it normally would be. I checked all around and couldn’t find it anywhere. That immediately made me think of my other small (and NEW) camera, Ruby, that was in one of my purses that I had just switched from. I ran into the living room and found the purse in the chair…empty. Bastards. Add two digital cameras to the list.
By this point, around 11pm, I was in almost panic mode trying to get out of the house. I grabbed my bag and Loki, got in the car, and headed to the hotel…
Horrified at being my heaviest weight EVER, I decided it was time for a fresh start. I signed up for eDiets and the 5-day meal delivery in the hopes that that will give me a kickstart in the right direction. While I can’t afford to stay on the delivery plan for long, I’m hopeful that eating the right things for a couple of weeks, and the convienence of having them at home and ready for me, will help me start breaking some really bad habits.
My counselor gave me the assignment of writing a letter to my ex, aka, Asshole, about a month ago. I resisted it and came up with every excuse not to write it, because, hell, we broke up more than 8 years ago and I wasn’t willing to admit he had any sort of impact on my life today.
After several weeks of excuses, I finally decided I would write the damn thing and get it over with. With guidance, I finally understood that it wasn’t about Asshole. It was about me forgiving myself for staying in that relationship for as long as I did. And about recognizing the abuse as something I will no longer tolerate. And about saying goodbye to the past and to stop fearing it and allowing it to keep me from moving forward.
In the process of writing it (typing), a few things came out that surprised me and made me realize that I was still suffering from the past. All in all, it was a very emotional journey, but I am glad I did it. The following week I had to read it outloud to my counselor. And it felt good. I felt like a load had been lifted off my shoulders. I wish I’d done it sooner!
I may copy it here in the near future as a way to remind myself of my progress.
I have to stop now because I’m half watching a movie and its distracting me. So I won’t delve any deeper into this subject right now. 😛
Sometimes, having something to look forward to is the only thing that keeps me going. The day-to-day at work and sleep-filled weekends certainly won’t do it. So, I wanted to take a moment to remind myself of some recently confirmed things coming up that I am excited about.
- Stephen Lynch concert this Friday – the guy is freaking hysterical.
- Morrissey concert next Friday – I’ve been in love with this guy since I was about 13. Age has been kinder to him than it has to me and he still has one of the greatest voices in music.
- A vacation day added to a holiday weekend – yep, I’m taking the Monday after Easter off to make it a glorious 4-day weekend.
- Girls Getaway Weekend – we missed it in 2008 due to a hurricane, so we’re doing it in May this year. Added bonus is that we’re doing it over Memorial Day weekend so we get an extra day together to act like the silly girls we are!
- Photography Weekend Workshop – I’ve been wanting to sign up for this for the past few years but always managed to miss it. This year, I’m registered and my friend, Flirt, has decided to join me. We’ve already got our room booked at the B&B. So excited!
So there. Some positives in an otherwise dull existence. 😛
Last night, what started out as a fun-filled, pool-shooting, shot-drinking night out to celebrate the end of the audit at work, and to catch up with one of my very best friends, turned into complete and utter debauchery. As disgusted as I am with myself over my own transgressions, what I am most upset about is that I allowed my best girl to get caught up in it. For that, I don’t know if I can forgive myself.
It’s an overcast, breezy Sunday morning and I am sitting on the patio, drinking my coffee, and playing a little fetch with Loki. The past 3 weeks have been utter hell. We have an OFCCP audit at work next week and so I have been working 12-18 hour days, including weekends, to make sure all of our ducks are in a row. I have been the living dead for 3 weeks now.
Friday afternoon, we were able to finish up the most urgent of our work and I actually left the office by 5pm. It was a tiny miracle so I felt I needed to take the opportunity to unwind a little and talked a coworker into going to the dive bar near work for a couple of drinks. After that, I met my friend V at one of our fave little neighborhood bars for more drinks and to catch up.
I just have to say that it was the perfect slice of heaven at that particular moment. I was finally able to relax, laugh, and just generally feel human again. And the added bonus is that I was able to sleep that night! No insomnia, just crashing from sheer exhaustion! The weeks of little to no sleep had finally caught up with me and the drinks managed to shut my brain off enough to allow me to finally get some much needed rest.
After getting to bed around 2am, I was up letting Loki out around 8…but then laid back down on the couch and slept until…SIX PM!!! I would’ve felt guilty except for the fact that I KNEW I needed it!
Today, rather than stressing out over the audit and whatever else this week will throw at me, for this moment, this peaceful moment on my patio with my dog, I am relaxing and it feels great.
A new puppy.
Back to it.
I went back to the dentist yesterday to get them to check out my “extraction site.” Turns out, I do, in fact, have dry socket. I love how they automatically assume it’s because I smoked. I did no such thing, thank you very much. I followed their directions perfectly, granted, they were pretty shoddy instructions, but I adhered to them. And my non-tooth area looks exactly the same today as it did on Saturday, so if I lost the blood clot (which I apparently did), it happened the same day as the extraction. Not 72 hours later when I had my first post-yank cigarette.
They stuffed some sort of gauze stuff down in my hole (yeah, that sounds bad) that is antiseptic something or another. It dissolves and just gets the medicine down in there. That plus a little syringe thing to rinse the hole out with salt water. Which, when I used last night, actually flushed little pieces of food out of the hole. Um…GROSS!
After 2 weeks of pain, I saw the oral surgeon last Saturday to have one of my two remaining wisdom teeth extracted. It was over much more quickly than I anticipated, but the discomfort hasn’t left me quite as easily. I never saw the blood clot they say is supposed to form, so I’ve been paranoid about the idea of dry socket. Although, from what I’ve read, the pain from that is pretty intense, and, while I’m still hurting, I wouldn’t call it unbearable.
I’m beginning to think part of the problem is the tooth directly above the extraction site. I know that is one that is slated for more dental work, but it hasn’t been an issue. Until now. It has been hard to tell where exactly the pain is coming from. The lower tooth (well, toothless) area, lower jaw, and back part of upper jaw have all been throbbing constantly. I did an experiement with some Ambesol on the top tooth and the pain lessened. So I think that the hurt from the extraction is being compounded by the top tooth that has decided to rear its ugly head.
I guess I am paying the price for not going to the dentist for so long. I burned up my flex spending account by July of this year, solely on dental work. First a root canal, then a crown, now an extraction and, apparently, a cavity that can’t be ignored any longer.
Having accomplished absolutely nothing on my day off, today I had to go try and get my car inspected. I got the oil changed first and, thanks to a handy-dandy trick I learned with this car last year, I was then able to go pass my inspection. Stupid emissions testing and computer cars.
Aside from that, I have done absolutely NOTHING the past few days. I slept until 1pm today, for crying out loud! I’ve been trying to break the sleeping-on-the-couch habit, so I went to my bed, relatively early for me at around 2am, and went to sleep. ELEVEN hours of sleep. What the hell?!
I swear it is my bed’s fault. Part of why I never sleep in there…because I sleep through alarms. On the couch, I wake throughout the night and get up with my alarm (although I might snooze it a few times). But today, after sleeping in my bed, multiple alarm clocks didn’t wake me. Insane, I tell you.
Anyway. Tomorrow is Lifewalk. All 3.6 miles of it. I need to try and get some sleep, get some fluids in me, and hope I don’t have a heatstroke. 😛
In all the years I’ve lived in the Dallas area, yesterday was my first trip to Southlake. I met my friend, Red, there for lunch at the Cheesecake Factory. We’ve both been in a funk and needed to get out of the house, but weren’t up for a full-swing social event with the whole gang. So, it being daylight, I was brave enough to venture down the road less travelled.
The restaurant is located in the Southlake Town Square, which is a nice little area of shops all laid out like a little town of its own, back when streets were lined with shops instead of the giant malls and shopping centers we’re used to today. Not exactly square though, don’t let the name deceive you. It’s similar to what they have recently built in Garland at the Firewheel Town Center. It’s a nice concept, but with the year-round Texas heat, it’s really only truly enjoyable on a cool day or evening. But it’s great for running into a particular store without having to deal with the crowds or parking at the malls.
After lunch, we walked around for a little while, not really to shop, since neither of us can afford that these days. I had seen the neat red brick Town Hall building when I drove in, and really wanted to get some photos of it, so we ended up walking there. It was super bright, mid-afternoon sun…not the ideal time for photos, but I was there and I had my camera, so I had to at least give it a shot.
Definitely not a good time for photos with all that harsh light, but worth a return visit sometime in the evening light….when it isn’t so freaking hot outside, too!
It was good to get out of the house and out of hermit mode for a few hours. Red and I are going to have to force each other to do that until this latest funk passes for both of us.
I started my new job in January, but because of the freebies from my doctor, I just now got around to needing to fill my Nuvaring prescription. On the old insurance, I always did the mail order because I could get 3 months at a time for about $45. So, without concern, I mailed in my prescription the new insurance. Afterall, I’m working for a Fortune 500 company so certainly should get the same or better benefits, right?
Much to my shock and horror, my prescription arrived the other day. I had provided them with my check card info for billing. The invoice? $140. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY DOLLARS?!?!?!!!
In sheer panic, I immediately called my insurance company for an explanation. Turns out Nuvaring is on their 3rd tier….nonformulary and non-preferred. My copay is 15/25/50. In the past, I could get a 3-month supply for less than my copay now for ONE. WTF?!?! For whatever reason, Cigna doesn’t like Nuvaring.
I asked them if there was any way I could return my package. I was desperate here, I mean that is a hundred bucks out of my bank account that I was NOT planning on spending. I’ve been playing catchup from my dental work and thought this would actually be the month my finances would return to normal. Ugh.
So yeah, they won’t let me return it. Their policy is “the same as at retail: once you walk out with it, it’s yours.” I told them, “Yes, but the difference is, at retail, I stand at the counter, they hand me the prescription, I see the amount, and I refuse to accept it!” In this situation, I was hoping they would see my logic that, opening the shipment box and viewing the invoice was the same thing. They didn’t see it that way.
I guess I’ll be giving my doc a call and asking her to write up a new prescription for me for some generic pills that I’ll have to remember to take every single day. After two+ years of only having to remember once a month. Lovely.
For someone who isn’t even having sex regularly (or at all lately for that matter!), this sure is one hell of a price to pay for birth control.
A week from tomorrow, I leave for my much-needed, well-deserved vacation to Cozumel. It was supposed to be a girls’ trip, but everyone but me and Red wimped out. Apparently everyone else is afraid to go with us because we are just “party party party.” Whatever.
Red and V went to Los Cabos last year (I couldn’t go because they accidentally scheduled it on top of a work conference I had to attend). Red and V had never really hung out or spent time together one on one, so they got to know each other a little better I suppose. V is very laid-back most of the time, and was looking forward to carefree days, lounging by the pool or on the beach. Red, who had been through some rough stuff with her husband recently, was in full let-her-hair-down-and-live-it-up mode. So needless to say, there were some conflicts. Nothing major, and they both had fun, but I guess some residual comments have been made.
Either way, Red and I are going to have a blast. I just know it! I’m all for lounging with a book and a pina colada on the beach, sight-seeing, and nights out partying. We’ve got 5 days, so time for a little of everything. And since Red and I DO hang out and DO know each other pretty damned well, I don’t think we’ll have any problems telling the other one when we’ve had enough of something.
The downside, Red is about 5 foot 4 inches tall, with a great figure. Me, I’m 5 foot 7, and a good 70 pounds heavier right now…the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life. We’re going to look like Mutt & Jeff. I didn’t get nearly as serious about going to the gym these past two months as I’d planned, so haven’t made much progress there. But at least for the past two weeks, a fire was lit under my proverbial ass, and I’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard on the weekends at least. During the week, I just can’t make myself get up early enough to go before work. And after work, I’m just drained. Excuses, I realize, but it just ain’t happening.
I started fake-baking last weekend, in the attempt to get some kind of base color on my lily white self, otherwise I’m likely to burst into flames at the beach! I’m not tan by any means, but I have at least gotten a tiny bit of color…and still have the rest of this week to work on that and keep going to the gym. I won’t be a bronzed goddess in any way, shape, or form, but I figure there’s nothing like the last minute panic to do as much improvement as I can.
I’m doing laundry and (re)assessing my wardrobe options. I’ve been shopping like a fiend lately, mostly trying to find some shorts that I like. Yeah, the shorts I own don’t fit right now. Did I mention that part about being the heaviest I’ve ever been? Ugh. Depression does as much damage outwardly as it does inwardly. But yeah, I think I’ve got most of my clothing together. Just need to do more planning of outfits to figure out what goes with what and, of course, to make sure I have enough day/night outfits, shoes, etc. I figure later this week I’ll actually attempt to start loading the suitcase.
And with that, time to get up and get some stuff done around the house before I head to the gym and to tan.
I’ve been having headaches for two weeks straight. Two of which were migraines. It has not been fun. I went to the doctor this week and he said the headache that just won’t let go is likely a tension headache. Me? Tense? Ha. Ok, so I’m working on that. Meanwhile, I’ve got pain pills and muscle relaxers to help me recover.
While I was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, a lady and her two young children came in and joined me in waiting. I was staring at the ground or my lap mostly because the light was hurting my eyes. I heard the little girl yell what I misunderstood to be an inappropriate word. I looked to her mother and saw no response. Then the little girl, who was standing at the aquarium in the waiting room, yelled again.
Ah, fish. Ok. Cute.
She repeated this a number of times until the fish swam behind one of the large rocks. Then, the glass-tapping began. I was about to crawl out of my skin as this was all doing a number on my headache.
When she turned away from the glass and then quickly turned back and yelled, “RAWWRR!” I didn’t know whether to cry or order a round of shots! It was like she was channeling my girl. Red!
Note to self: must have drinks soon
Addedendum to note to self: Oh yeah, having drinks for V’s bday tomorrow!
Addedendum II: Don’t take the vicodin or muscle relaxers tomorrow.