You've got to read Jon's Dec. 30th post over at Living With Purpose! Why isn't he paid for writing? He's great!
It's like I had the same experience at the doctor just the day before. Except that the receptionist recognizes me - as Randy's wife. So I read much too much into "What are you here for?" Feeling anxious, guilty, and angry simultaneously. Randy's the one with health problems, not me. I'm just a depressed hypochondriac - wasting a $20 co-pay.

So, no news yet. And, of course, no news today since they're closed (and I'm here at work - why?). Now I know for a fact my cholesterol is a little high, because the Oklahoma Blood Institute gives you your cholesterol results everytime you donate blood. And I'm pretty sure I'm peri-menopausal (even though the meno hasn't paused yet), but being just about the oldest woman in my family with an intact uterus, there's really noone I can ask.

I guess I could go by the All In The Family episode where Edith goes through "the Change". She was so upset with it, she felt like she wasn't a woman anymore. All I can tell you, if my periods stopped tomorrow, I'd be happy as a clam.

I went to the doctor this morning. My blood pressure was low - 101/84, and I had a slight fever, 99, and you would not believe what I weigh now!. When the doctor came in, I poured out everything. And instead of just throwing more anti-depressants at me, since everything I'm feeling (symptoms?) leads to a list a mile long, he decided to do a battery of blood work on me. And, yeah this sounds kind of perverted, I would like it to be something, not just my imagination.

He said the results should be in tomorrow.

It's still not really real, yet. I have the total amount written on a post-it note tacked on the hutch of my desk - yet it's not real. The money's not in my hot little hands yet - it's in between bank limbo. Randy's the one saying, "Let's go, go, GO!" and I'm the one going "Whoa!"

But on an unrelated matter, I have kind of decided to go back to the doctor. Even though he'll just tell me I need to eat less, exercise more, and TAKE MY ANTIDEPRESSANT. I know it's kind of perverted, but I'd like to think there's something wrong with me, something that explains all my symptoms - beyond Food-in-Mouth disease, that is. But right now, I can throw 20 bucks away.

On the house front, we think we're going Solitaire. This one, in fact. If we had our druthers, we'd have it flopped - so our bedroom is away from dog-woman next door. An actual garage would be nice, too. Randy's still wanting to put lots of money down, and so have a lower payment. He's all - "We're going to get this BIG settlement from the accident!"

Right. I'll believe it when I see it.

Update: I went ahead and made a doctor's appointment for tomorrow morning. I'd rather waste $20, than keep feeling this way.

Geez

Got another one! Oil lease, that is. On Christmas Eve. A smaller one, roughly about a quarter of the first. Wild.

These things don't normally happen to me.

About 35 Years Too Late

This story about treating anxiety in children.

Que sera, sera.

It's On Paper

But I still don't believe it! I am looking at houses now!

Oh. My. God. I'm a thousandaire!!

My News...

Requires background.

Per Wikipedia here (it has a map - which I can't figure out how to copy over here), Roger Mills County is a county located in the state of Oklahoma. As of 2000, the population is 3,436. Its county seat is Cheyenne.

The only thing I know is there is the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site, where Custer massacred pretty much every Native American he could see (and for that he has a county named after him!)

This is the area my dad and his family are from (he lived in Clinton, in Custer county, to the east of Roger Mills).

And thus we harken back to the last days of the oil bubble in the '80s. Some aunt of my Dad's (with some hideous Okie name like Gladys) signed an oil lease for something like $700,000. Which hacked my Dad off, because he thought he and his sister, my Aunt Ruth Ann, owned said property - because the late uncle had left it to them. Big arguments followed which were confusing, because I kind of ignored it. And more arguments when said aunt passed - somehow it was declared that Daddy and Ruth Ann were heirs to half and one of the seven heirs to the other half (actually taxes took most).

Afterwards, Daddy would always look to see what kind of drilling was going on out there. But the bubble had popped, and nothing come of it.

Now we fast-forward to the 21st Century, and I had forgotten about the property in Nowheresville, Oklahoma. Oklahoma was played out, I thought. I was talking to my sister yesterday, and she told me there were a couple of companies interested. My cousin had been trying to get a hold of her to get my address.

So. There is a new lease on the property in Roger Mills County. Since I have seen nothing on paper, it's really not real to me.

Surreal, maybe.

Oh My God!!

BIG NEWS!!

To be continued....

Well, Duh!

Just read this! It is UNBELIEVABLE!

It ain't that hard, people!

Having A Moment...

A Mount St. Helens moment that is. I had another crappy, weepy weekend. Not having a good Monday. Any little thing could set me off.

Today's Headline:

Kia Spectra Gets Worst Crash-Test Rating

Guess what I drive? I'd like to think my '02 model is safer than the '04 tested. HAH!! I guess I shouldn't mention my right rear tire needs to be replaced.

The Hubby said we ought to trade it off on a Honda Civic, but I'd rather have a new house. I can't afford both.

Yes, I Am...

...stuck at work. But not for much longer. I've been trying to use my time wisely, looking for a career change. I've gone about as far as I want to as call center peon. I don't know what I want to do when I grow up, I never have. Having poor self-esteem most of my life, I'm not real attuned to what I do well. When M-in-L was in the Oklahoma Heart Hospital (oh, OT, way-cool bathrooms) , I thought it would be cool to work in the lab. Being a big CSI-phile, and murder mystery buff I thought forensics would be cool. One problem crops up, though, as much as I love the sciences, I am a complete math-idiot. University of Central Oklahoma (I STILL think of it as Central State University) has a forensic science program at its College of Math & Science.

It's close to me! Close! But how do I know I can do college level work? I mean, yeah I have like 2 years at what was then Oscar Rose Junior College (now Rose State College) - no degree. But that was ages and ages ago.

Damned If I Do...

So it has come down from above:

• For the last two weekends we as a department have not met service levels. We had voluntary overtime which was not fullfilled
  therefore we will be moving to required overtime effective 12/18/04.
  All agents, including those scheduled for 12/20 class are required to work a minimum of two hours either 12/18 or 12/19 or an hour on
  each day. There is a total of 4 hours required overtime, two must be on Sat or Sun.
  If you have already signed up for Saturday or Sunday or the remainder of the week, you are not required to go back and sign up again.
  The overtime book is located up at WFM.

And:

• Reminder: If you do not fullfill your overtime committment you will receive a half occurrence.

Meaning if you blow it off, it counts as an absence. Jesus, God!! I wish I cared. This just pisses me off. I have too much going on at home, but, of course, that doesn't matter. I'm considering taking the half an occurence.

No, I can't spare it.

Life sucks. And it's dragging me down with it.

Mandatory Overtime

OOOH, SCARY!!

Not really a big deal, but it's just another one of THOSE THINGS that bother me.

• Overtime bothers me, because I don't consider it my time to give away.
• Children's books on tape or those new electronic "read along" things bother me. Sit on your butt and read to your kid. PERIOD. How did I get a reading kid? By being a reading adult.
• Along that line, don't buy children's books at Wal-Mart! They're crap. If you can't go to an actual bookstore, go to a library. If you want to buy, and don't want to or can't go to an actual bookstore, go to Target. They have a better selection of children's literature.
• Pick up your baby. Don't just stick a bottle in it's face while it sits in an infant carrier or stroller.
• Throw your trash IN THE TRASH! Not in the sink. Not on the kitchen table. Not on an end table.
• Flush. I'd add to put the toilet seat down, but that's a lost cause.

Those are the things that come to mind right now. And that's because they've threatened me with mandatory overtime here at work. Something like 4 hours, not a big deal, but it still bothers me. With Randy being in SO much pain, I don't like even being AT work, much less working over. Like today, I called him at lunch to see if his prescription was ready at the doctor's (one of those prescriptions that have to be written out every month), and, if so, if he had picked it up. OH MY GOD! I can't describe how he sounded, except I felt I needed to be home RIGHT THEN. He was beyond even the zombie mode. Needless to say, no he didn't pick up his prescription, but today is one of the days the doctor's office has after hours and I'll pick it up after work. All I could think is that he needed to be in an emergency room, being pumped full of drugs. He wasn't like this before the accident. Yes, he was still in pain all the time, but it was manageable. This zombie and beyond-zombie stuff just curls my toes. It's turned my husband from mostly active to partially home-bound (he told me yesterday, at his mom's, checking out her computer, he was in so much pain he cried - and that was just getting up out of a chair). Yes this would have happened eventually, but over time, not all at once.

They'll just have to make me. They're lucky I come to work at all.

Sorry for the Downer Posts

I feel much better now.

I can't tell you what gets into me that makes me crash. And I get frustrated when I know that I have to go to the doctor (Jesse Ray), and I know that his hands are tied by the @#$@ing Formulary of my @#$%ing prescription coverage (a small prayer: God, please make my work give prescription coverage back to Aetna - Amen). And I know what all he's going to say, because he's said it all before. But, yes, at some point of time I will go back to the doctor - maybe after the holidays.

I've been feeling kind of funny the last couple of days. I still have the intense rage just under the surface, which, for a Customer Service agent, isn't a good thing. But, also, I've been feeling kind of woozy, little dizzy spells. And, just now, I've gotten really cold. I originally blamed that on eating ice earlier, when I finished my water, but I'm not sure now, since I'm still cold.

Of course I could be being a hypochondriac.

Oh, and today, while I still don't like myself, I'm not suicidal.

So I Was Right...

Nobody Cares.

Weepy Weekend

I've had such a weepy weekend. I would have rather been at work. I could have done overtime on Saturday, but Randy gave me puppy-dog eyes, he didn't want me to. All we do on Saturday any more is go with the M-in-L Wal-Marting. And I feel like such a third wheel. And they're always ragging on somebody (usually Jimmy) - he doesn't know anything about money - he thinks everything is handed to him - he should be saving his money - I'm going to take that car back if he doesn't pay me - Jason (Randy's son) always paid me (talk about rose-colored glasses!) - and on and on and on - unrelenting negativity. I just wanted to scream. And they started right back on it on Sunday (when we go to her house to read the paper). She had bought doughnuts (like usual), and she made sausage and scrambled eggs. Because I didn't jump up and do dishes (granted, I guess I should), the M-in-L carped "I'm going to start charging for breakfast!" And again, started in on Jimmy. And how her wonderful youngest son paid his own way in college. I kind of snapped. Yes, I should have just kept my mouth shut. I internalize everything else. I told her he was stupid for doing so. That my ex had his college paid for, he had been in the Air Force (one of the reasons I didn't mind working while he went to school).

So, right now, I'm a bundle of conflicting emotions - rage (I feel like I could turn into a She-Hulk at any moment), intense self-hatred, sadness, and I'm sooo tired - I've got such a weight on my shoulders, I feel like I'm going to break.

And nobody cares.

Well, I guess I can't really say that. My husband cares, but he doesn't really know how to handle my depression and he has enough on his plate already.

Truth be told, now that I'm at work, I feel a little better. I'm not quite suicidal. Oh, don't get so upset! I think about it, I don't do.

I'm supposed to go back to the doctor, before he will write another prescription. But, geez, what a waste of time! He'll tell me I need to lose weight, and I need to exercise. We'll discuss how I'm doing on Zoloft (I'm Not!). I'll tell him that I do best on Lexapro, but it's not on the formulary, and I don't like paying full price when I have health insurance that's SUPPOSED to cover things like that. So, no, I'm not going back to the doctor, not right now. It serves no purpose.

A Cry in the Darkness

I had an argument with the Hubby last night. Politics. I know - why don't I just keep my mouth shut! Ended up with the same worthless feeling - why am I here - Randy would be better off without me - God, I wish I was....

Yeah, I know - Life is precious, a gift from God - yada, yada, yada.

Of course, this morning the Hubby has forgotten all about it.

I wish I could. I wish I could be as positive towards myself as my handful of readers are. Today it's just not there. My life, my existence, doesn't matter a damn.

Maybe I Can Relax A Little

I just got finished reading this article. About how being an over-protective parent is now the norm. This is NOT me. It was, however, my parents. I'm certainly not going to go there! My parents did the best they could under the circumstances. What did people know about depression in the '70s? Especially in children.

I can't say I'm a great parent. But maybe I can relax a little. I'm still frustrated, but I can live with that.

An Update to Jimmy's Update

I think I did write about this, but I'm not sure - the little brou-ha-ha over Jimmy flying down to see his Dad over the weekend. Randy and Jimmy are still in kind of a feud, and, of course, I'm in the middle and think both of them are acting like children. And no, neither has an excuse.

Anyway, Jimmy and I had a little confab on the way to the airport (a roughly 45-50 minute drive from Guthrie). He asked me if I would be upset if he dropped Honors Calculus. "I'm just not getting it," he said. I can certainly understand not getting math, so I asked him what his grade was. It was like a B or a C. And, you know, if it was a C or a D I might have been sympathetic. I think some of the problem is everything has always just came to him. Now he's in a class he has to think about, has to work at. Having to ask for help is okay (just hard to do).
Also he's unsure about college (I'm not!!) - he doesn't know what to study. He had always assumed he would go into video game programming. I'm sorry to say, reality has hit him in the face. He's not an artist, heck he can't draw at all! And he really doesn't like computers. I told him he would be a good teacher, although they don't make alot of money (more than me!). He kind of agreed with me. And I didn't say so, he'd probably make a good lawyer, too. He's stubborn and argumentative.

I'm sorry, I'm believe that even if you end up a Wal-Mart greeter, a college education is it's own reward. And one should consider themselves lucky to be able to get one.

I didn't buy a new dress, but I also didn't wear the one I wore two years ago (the "Liquid Chicken" Christmas party). Yes, I was casual amid a sea of formals (I wore the sleeveless denim jumper I got at Old Navy on sale for a buck with my black ankle boots), but I was comfortable. I actually felt good. And the food was good, I had, I think, chicken parmesiana - anyway it was a stuffed chicken breast covered in cheese. Randy had the roast beef. Oh, and there was a fudge cake that was to die for - Icouldn't even finish it!

I laughed. I talked (!). I even danced! And I won a $100 travelers check! Yeah, I would have like to win one of the agent and companion passes, or the grand prize (called "Pack Your Bags") a trip to San Francisco, but, geez, I never win anything! I'll take what I get.

It was a fantastic night. I really have to give it up to Randy, he stayed longer than he should have - for me.

Most of my life, I've felt I was on the outside looking in, wanting to belong. Friday night, I belonged! And it felt fantastic!!!

I'd like to feel that way more often.

Party Hearty

My work Christmas party is tonight, and I'm only working (HA! I'm in a training class for Customer Service Tour - no, it's not work) a half day today. That matters because I mainly do my blogging from work.

I'm going to have to buy a new dress. I've gained soooo much weight this year. I wish I could blame my Zoloft, but since I do little exercise and eat too much, I can only blame myself. But I just can't get my head into losing weight. It all goes back to my Rule No. 1 of successful weight loss - You have to like yourself for the person you are, because the person you are is not going to change. I don't really like myself. I mean, I'm not smart; I'm not pretty; I don't like to clean house; I don't like to cook (our oven is messed up anyway); I'm shy; I'm quiet.

Jimmy Update

Things came to a head between Jimmy and Randy. Evidently they had a big, hairy fight yesterday while I was at work. In a perverse way, I was actually proud that Jimmy stood up to Randy. He'd never done that before. He told Randy that Randy treats our dogs better than him. Randy asked me, "Is that true?" I shrugged my shoulders. I don't know.

So I spoke to him before he left for school, which was difficult because I was running late, and Jimmy, you'd think he was made of stone. I told him that he didn't have to like Randy, but he has to respect him, because Randy does love him. And I told him to pay more attention to his Grandma (Randy's Mom), and to check his oil.

Have NO idea if any of it sank in.

I've decided that I'm the Fool on the Hill of the family.

Insurance Update

I've been informed that the Tahoe will be ready on Friday. And that the lawyer wants Randy to see a Pain Management Specialist. I asked Randy, "On whose nickel?" Randy swears it's theirs. Oh and he took them the other insurance's check yesterday, and he did tell them how we had been screwed some years ago by bankruptcy attorney(let me tell you, bankruptcy is a racket), but he didn't remember the name (I DO!). So I feel a little better now. Randy's in a hideous amount of pain today. He says it's been building since yesterday. The more pain he's in the bigger settlement he wants.

And it all could have been over, if they talked to us, and paid for all the repairs, and the like $75.00 we've spent on the doctor and prescriptions.

Randy informed me that Cheyenne is in heat. And we've learned Bubba has the wrong name - it should be Horn-Dawg. Oh My God! You'd think he's in pain.

I had two really weird dreams last night. The first one was before the dog alarm went of at 4:00am. One of my movie dreams. Really hard to discribe. Kind of a Doris Day-Rock Hudson-ish movie combined with spy thriller. The second one was after I walked the dogs, napping in the recliner in the living room. It was before I went to work, I had mixed the contents of two pill bottles together, I thought they were the same prescription. I needed to take my anti-depressant (OMG, I'm dreaming about it!), I pour out some pills, and take one. Then I realize that I had combined different prescriptions, and I had taken one of Randy's. But I had to go to work. So, then I'm in my car, and it's dark outside (why I'm going to work in the dark, I'll never know), and I'm getting sleepy. I keep getting sleepier and sleepier, then it feels like I can't control my body. My car starts to go backwards. I tell myself all I need to do is step on the brake, but I can't. I wake up, but for a second, I'm still going backwards. Then I realize I'm in the recliner, in then living room, safe.

On the Jimmy front, last weekend I got the ex's check in the mail, it came with an itinerary for my son for this weekend. And that's the first we know about it. You know, when Jimmy was little I thought it was soooo cool that he had my personality, we just meshed. Now, he has the parts of my personality that I didn't want him to have: he's shy, and he keeps everything all bottled up inside. I've told him over and over he can talk to us. Somewhere up in heaven, my mother is sighing with relief, "Thank God! It wasn't me after all!"
And he still hasn't given any sign of what he wants to do after he graduates. And he needs to be doing something right now. He can decide not to go to college, or join the military - it is his life and his decision (and, yes, not to decide is also a decision). I just hate to see such a wonderful mind going to waste. I want to nag, to scream and yell, to shake him until he comes to his senses, but my gut goes with the baby bird analogy - he has to learn there are consequences to his actions. He has to make his own mistakes now, whether I like it or not.