DogTown

I am a dog lover.  An animal lover, really.  I’ve always had pets, dogs and cats, parrots, hamsters and now guinea pigs.  I have a very soft spot in my heart for animals of all kinds, but dogs especially.

I watched National Geographic’s DogTown tonight. DogTown is the largest no kill shelter in the country.  They take in animals that others have given up on, it’s their last hope.  This show was about the seized pit bulls that once belonged to former NFL quarterback Michael Vick. DogTown took in the most dangerous of the bunch.

I’ve harbored prejudice against pit bulls.  My thinking has been that fighting pit bulls are ruined and cannot be rehabilitated and should be euthanized, and that any pit bull is a ticking time bomb, a dangerous weapon. This show blew my prejudices out of the water and I’m feeling guilty for my own ignorance and basing my beliefs on what the media has been telling me.

One of the dogs, who they named Cherry, really tugged at my heart strings.  It is speculated that he was used as a training dog, in other words, his role was to be attacked by other dogs so they could learn to fight.  Cherry was terrified.  He would flatten out on the ground when anyone came near.  He had to be carried from place to place.  Cherry was completely shut down.  The trainer worked with Cherry and were eventually able to bring him out of his shell.  Cherry is no longer terrified of living.

Another dog was sentenced to live out its life at DogTown because she was deemed to dangerous to the public.  Another female was probably a champion fighter who was forced to breed with other champion dogs.  All of her teeth were removed, and x-rays showed that the work was most likely done by an experienced vet.

I am amazed at what the trainers were able to accomplish with these animals.  I think these dogs will always have challenges due to their past.  Thank God for places like DogTown.

confessions of a knitting challenged woman

I found a pretty knitted lace scarf pattern, an easy one claims the pattern author.  So I thought, “perfect! Now I can try my hand at knitted lace.”

I didn’t want to spend money on fancy yarn, especially for the first attempt so I barely glanced at the recommended yarn, it’s weight and other properties and went to Michaels.  Michaels had 2 balls of “lace weight” yarn.  Off to Joann Fabric I went.  They had a butt load of worsted weight yarns, sock yarn, baby yarn and those fancy boucle and be-ribboned, metalic-y stuff. No plain, lace looking yarns to be had.

I figured fingering yarn would work but no go.  Baby yarn! that’s the ticket, baby yarn.  I chose lavender baby yarn.

My pattern called for size 9 needles.  I thought, it’s lace, it’s supposed to be light and airy…

Not that light and airy.  No, the picture looked like it was made with a normal yarn to needle ratio, unlike the sloppy mess I now had in my lap. So after 3 or 4 false starts in which my needles ended up with mysterious additional stitches I switched to smaller needles.  Like a size 4 double pointed needles…only I was using them as regular needles.

Still collecting stitches out of thin air….getting very frustrated here.

Allow me to digress…I’m a crocheter.  I’ve crocheted for years.  I’ve known how to do a knit stitch, and how to do a pearl stitch…sort of.  I can get by with this limited knowlege making those easy dishcloths and thought it would get me by with the “easy” knitted lace scarf….

I finally went to the web site, knittinghelp.com and actually watched a video on how to yarn over.  Turns out I was doing that all wrong.  I was winding the yarn around the needle backwards which probably contributed to the mystery stitch multiplication  problem that I was having.

As a matter of fact, I was pearling wrong, too.  Winding my yarn around backwards.  Apparently it does make a difference.  Who knew?

It turns out that ssk does not mean slip two times knit-wise.  Didn’t know that, either.  I am prone to making assumptions without checking them out for accuracy.  You would think I would learn after all these years, this particular quirk shows up quite a lot in many different areas of my life…

After learning that ssk means slip 2 stitches knit wise, one at a time, then knit them together, I made it to row 5.

Row 5 had yet another command that I assumed meant something it obviously did not,  creating new stitches and lord knows what pattern would have eventually emerged from my deranged mind…perhaps the mark of the beast would have embossed itself into the body of the scarf spontaneously.  Who knows.

Tomorrow’s another day.

dishcloths, movies and nocturnal awakenings…

Oy.  My days and nights are royally mixed up.  My boys are spending the week with Gramma so this will be a good time to get my sleep back on track.  I hate it when this happens, and it happens so damn easily with me.

I watched Tropic Thunder and Burn After Reading tonight.  I found both of them pretty funny.  Tropic Thunder was very un-pc, so it’s not for everyone.  Burn After Reading is a dark comedy with many twists and turns of the plot.  It started off a little slow, but it was worth sticking it out to the end.

I’ve been knitting dishcloths.  So far, I’ve given both of my daughters a bunch of them and am now knitting some for my mom.  I think practically everyone knows someone who makes these, usually a gramma.  I am now the only one in my family that really does handwork anymore.  I feel useful in a small way when I can make these for my family.

These aren’t mine, I snagged them off of another site, but it’s the same pattern that I use, which is:

Basic Knitted Dishcloth Pattern

Supplies:

One ball of dishcloth cotton yarn

Size 6 or 7 knitting needles (US)

Instructions:

Cast on 4 stitches

Row 1: Knit 4

Row 2: Knit 2, yarn over, knit across the row.

Repeat Row 2 until you have 44 stitches.

Row 3: Knit 1, knit 2 together, yarn over, knit 2 together, knit to the end of the row.

Repeat Row 3 until you have 4 stitches left on the needle.

Bind off and weave in ends.

I also made some crocheted nylon dish scrubbies that were very easy to make.  The dishcloths and scrubbies made up the bulk of the gifts I gave this year.

I was browsing the Ravelry web site and found some beautiful knitted lace.  I would really like to try my hand at knitting lace.  So I’m going to try and find some good instruction books or sources with some nice beginner patterns.

I’m seriously considering asking my pdoc if I can decrease the Effexor because my energy is so darn low.  I’ve decreased the seroquel so I should be feeling better.  I don’t know.  I just don’t want to be on meds.  I hate this struggle.

Merry Christmas!

We open gifts on Christmas Eve.  It was a downsized Christmas this year, but it was a good one.  I think the boys liked their gifts.  I got my DH a ped egg, (I know, it was partly a joke, partly a serious hint) and some good, dark chocolates.  He loves dark chocolate and doesn’t get it very much.  He got me nothing as usual.

I try to not let it get to me, that he doesn’t bother to even get me a token something.  I try not to let expectations raise, I try to let it go.  I did say something.  I am proud of myself that I just told him that he could have gotten something, even just my favorite candy bar.  He tried to lay the blame on me by saying that he asked me what to get…which he didn’t do, and I just said bullshit.  He could have done something. I then dropped it.  I was able to let it go.

There is a buyer for my harp.  I am so conflicted about this.  I really don’t want to sell it.  But we need the money and the buyer seems really excited about the harp.  I received a flyer in the mail for a conference and training session for music therapy in the hospice setting, specifically for harpists.  This is what I’ve been wanting to do.  The flyer came out of the blue, I didn’t sign up for anything like it, I’m not even ready for that yet, I’m just beginning to learn how to play.

It seemed like a confirmation that I was on the right path with playing the harp, that perhaps this was a calling of mine.  Then the money trouble began.  I don’t know what to do anymore.  I’m sad.  I don’t know when or even if I can ever get another harp.  I want to see if I can find another good deal for the buyer and tell her to buy that one instead!  But we need the money.  This really sucks.

Now I’m beginning to wonder if the Effexor is working as well as I thought.  My emotional symptoms of depression have really eased, but the physical ones are going strong.

I watched Intervention last night, one episode was a repeat of what has to be one of the most manipulative alcoholics that I’ve ever seen, and the other was a new (to me at least) episode  featuring a woman who had an eating disorder and hasn’t swallowed any food or drink in 15 or so years.  She spits her saliva in a cup that she carries around with her and feeds herself via a feeding tube in her abdomen.  She was also extremely manipulative and very hard to find sympathy for.

So I’m watching these shows and find myself getting more and more agitated at the behaviors of these people.  I started to ask myself why they were getting to me so much.  I hate to say it, but I can see traits they displayed in myself.  Ick.  Ick.  Ick.  There but for the grace of God go I…

And just who am I to judge?  Addictions do nasty things to people and make people do nasty things.  Family dysfunction creates all different kinds of monsters in all different varieties.  I am angry with myself for judging these people, I, who have a problem with addiction.  I who have battled eating disorders.  Why did I choose to cast the first stone at them?

I need to battle my own demons before I try and tell others, even if only on TV, how to battle their own.  I have so many lessons that I need to learn in my life before I die, so many important lessons to learn.   I don’t want to have to repeat this life again, if you believe in reincarnation…

ruts, astrology and such

It’s been awhile since I last posted.  My mood continues to be good, but I’m isolating more and my sleep/wake schedule is totally screwed up.  I need to work hard at getting that back on track.  I also need to make it a point to get out of the house every day.  I’m holing up in the house again.  The weather’s been so cold that it’s hard to make myself go outside for any reason.  And of course, another snow storm is blowing though with more frigid cold on it’s heels.

I’ve been closely following the Caylee Anthony case in the news and on the internet.  I’m glad that they were finally able to identify her body, now they can give her a decent burial and justice can begin to do it’s work.

One message board concerning the case that I’ve come across has an ongoing thread on forensic astrology that I am finding absolutely fascinating.  I am a fairly skeptical person, and I am being blown away at what the astrologers are gleening from the various charts they are doing on the persons involved with this case.  These people aren’t claiming to be psychic or mind readers or even claim to be able to predict future behavior.  What they are looking at is what the stars have to say about the events that have either taken place or that are yet to come.  And they have been accurate, both in hindsight and forsight. Makes me want to learn astrology, but it seems like a very complicated subject to learn.

My husband has had work this past week.  We don’t know what the future holds, but the outlook for the immediate future work wise looks bleak.  He can get unemployment benefits, but those eventually run out.  Lets hope the new administration can  make good on it’s promises of creating new jobs and stimulating the economy.  We can only hope.

it’s cold!

It’s cold outside! Below zero, and we’ll have below zero highs tomorrow.  We had a winter storm blow through today.  It rained first, then the temps dropped and turned the roads to ice and then the snow started.  It’s so cold the salt and other chemicals the DOT lays down wont work as well so the roads will stay slippery.  I’m glad I don’t have to drive anywhere.

I realized that I really hate to embroider.  I bought 3 pillow case sets with stamped embroidery patterns on them to give completed as gifts.  I cannot make myself work on them anymore!  I really really hate embroidering those darn things.  Now I have to figure out something else to give.

I’m having some cravings for wine tonight.  I can smell it, even though there isn’t any wine in the house and hasn’t been for quite awhile.  It’ll pass.

The Effexor still seems to be working.  I notice that when I take 200 mg seroquel my moods are much more even.  I’m trying to cut way back on it, I’d like to get off of it.  Trazodone does not work at all on this dose of Effexor.  I thought that was interesting.

DBT/therapy and The Shack

DBT yesterday.  We’re in the mindfulness module,”What” skills…getting into Wise Mind.  The What skills are observe, describe and participate.

Observe is particularly difficult for me. It is a nonjudgmental noticing without words.  My mind is constantly labeling everything I see and experience and it’s hard for me to turn it off. We are to keep bringing our thoughts back to just observing, keeping our mind under control as best as we can.

Describe is much easier for me because now I can put a label on what I’m experiencing, but it is a nonjudgmental describe.  I have a tendency to use  words that are judgments so I have to be careful.

Participate is like being in the “flow.”  It’s just being completely in the experience, without judgments, completely forgetting yourself.  This one is also difficult for me, but it’ll come with practice.

These skills help recondition ourselves and responses to situations so we can become more skillful and choose our reactions wisely, rather than reacting in a knee jerk fashion.

I could tell my T was tired in session.  I have therapy right after our 2 hour DBT class.  He didn’t fall asleep but he suppressed a few yawns.  I was uncomfortable with that, but it happens.  I talked about our trip to bring Gramma to see my Aunt, her daughter.

At the end of the session, my T blurted out, (after telling me earlier that he can’t tell me what to do) “I lied to you.  I am a Christian and I believe that there is a way to live.  There is a book called “The Shack” that describes what living in shame is like.  You can read it or not, it’s up to you.”

I was a bit puzzled by this.  I picked up a copy of The Shack.  I am still waiting for the shame part to come up.  I’ve wanted to throw that damn book across the room more than a few times already.  So far, it seems to be an apologetic of sorts, not quite mainstream beliefs, but an apologetic of the authors beliefs to be sure.  I feel toyed with and insulted.

Mack, the main character, loses his youngest child to an implied pervert and child murderer. They never find his daughter’s body, only her bloody dress in a shack in the woods. This, of course changes his life and leaves him with what they call “The Great Sadness.”  He receives a note in the mail inviting him to the Shack, from Papa.

And there he meets the trinity. God is called Papa and is a large, black woman.  Jesus is an ugly man who looks middle eastern or arab and the Holy Spirit is ghost like, almost like a transparent fairie or sprite type of creature.  The trinity are very down home, folksie characters. The book is very predictable, nothing that I really haven’t seen before.

Mack finds healing and comes away with a better understanding of who God and the rest are.

If I had reconciled my experience with the church and religion, I probably would be able to receive the message my T wanted me to receive, but I am getting so disgusted with the simplicity of the story, the bad story telling and the message that I have to stop myself from hurling the book at a wall.

I am now open to spirituality.  I believe that there is something Greater than me out there.  I don’t know what that is.  I am not ready to swallow Christianity just yet.  I have things to work through in that arena.   I don’t know what to do, if I should lie to him and not mention the book, or if I should be honest and tell him how I’m reacting to it.  I don’t want to get into an argument about religion with him.  Grrr.

struggles with meds, closure

I’ve been off the Pristiq for awhile now.  The side effects that I experienced on that med were unacceptable.  Probably the most unusual side effect was urinary retention.  I could not pee without real effort.  Emotionally it was hell.  I’m glad I’m off.

I’ve been on Effexor XR 75mg for about a week, along with Seroquel 200mg taken at night.  This seems to be very effective.  I feel in control of my emotions.  My moods are not running all over the map.  I am not a ball of angry energy.  My thinking is more rational.

Yet despite this, I am wanting off the meds yet again.  I have an eye twitch that I’m afraid might be a symptom of TD.  I am anticipating the expensive co-pay for both of these meds will be a burden to our family.  Work has slowed way down for my DH.  These are both very expensive medications.  I am tired of being on meds.  I wonder what life would be like without them?

On another note, I’m trying to figure out how to get closure for my Gramma so she can find some peace in her life.  I have no idea where to turn.  Although she is not dying, she is 90 years old.  She carries a lot of guilt and is not at peace.  I fear her death will be a difficult passing if she cannot find peace.  Finding closure will only be beneficial to her even if she lives another decade.  I might bring this up in therapy tomorrow and see what my T has to say about it.  Maybe he knows of resources or has some ideas.

the family of my dysfunction

My parents come from dysfunctional families.  My fathers side is fraught with addiction and mental health issues.  My mothers side has their own dysfunction, but addictions and alcoholism aren’t as prominent, and the exact nature of the dysfunction is harder for me to label, but it’s there.

My father has 2 brothers, they are all alcoholic.  My father’s sister has her own unique addiction problems.  I have never really gotten to know her, my mom and dad have avoided contact with her for the most part. But when we brought Gramma to see her, it became very obvious why they avoid her.

I’ve heard that B, who is married to L, is a hypochondriac. I know that she has legitimate health issues so that has always confused me.  Now I understand.  It’s not so much that she’s a hypochondriac, it’s more that her identity is based on her illnesses.

From the moment we drove up the driveway it was apparent that there were sick people in the house.  A wheelchair ramp has replaced the sidewalk.  B was on the couch, which has been modified for her use with a thick piece of foam under the cushions to get it at the proper height for her to get in and out of.  They specifically pointed that out to us. Another badge of honor, I guess. She has a walker with wheels and brakes.  She has a wheelchair.  She is connected to her oxygen compressor like a dog on a leash.  Her bottles and bottles of pills are on the coffee table. The only thing that she talked about was her various illnesses, her dialysis, the oxygen, anything related to her disabilities and infirmities.  B is a little older than my mother, who is in her mid 60’s.

B is on dialysis and wont consider a kidney transplant because she claims that her body can’t take anymore surgery and she doesn’t want to put herself through that.  I wonder if she knows that she is signing her death certificate with that decision.  Mom commented that B has so much invested in being sick that she would rather die than get well.  I got that impression as well.  It’s so sad, so very sad. Being sick and dependent on others is her whole identity, it’s how she copes with life.

B is on a pain meds, one in the form of a patch.  B has been on various meds for years.  She legally gets high every day.  She has much invested in staying stuck in her situation.  B was addicted to Valium years and years ago.

The conversations revolved around B’s illnesses in one way or another.  B’s infirmities consume her.

B has 3 grown sons.  All of them have addiction issues. They have not had dental care and each of them are missing teeth. The oldest is just plain scary.  He is angry, very angry and is alcoholic.  He doesn’t bathe,works sporadically and no one trusts him.  D has poor personal hygiene and cares little about his appearance.

D (the oldest) and Brunhilda his scary girlfriend were there. (not her real name but damn does it ever fit…)

I’m not sure who was scarier, Brunhilde or D, but I think the girlfriend wins this contest.  She actually looks a LOT like the picture.  They never smiled.  Brunhilde never spoke, she just glared at us.  D told me that his neighbor shot his dog, then showed me a picture of the dog.  That is the extent of the conversation. Then he said that he was going to scare the mailman when he came and so he did.

But as scary as D is, his life is sad.  He is doing what he needs to do in order to survive and I hate it that it means a life of anger and addiction and misery. I hate it that the extended family distrusts him and fears him due to his addictions. I can’t imagine what knowing this has done to his spirit.

B’s youngest son N lives with them.  N is really a nice guy.  It appeared to me that he takes care of them.  He put together a lunch for us, set the table etc and you could tell that he made an effort for us.  All B and L did was rag on him, cut him down.  N couldn’t do anything right in their eyes, he set dessert plates on the table instead of just serving pie from the counter, he cut the pie wrong, and on and on.  Mom and I felt really bad for him, and Mom made a  point to complement him and counter B and L’s attacks. You could tell that he tried his best to make an abnormal situation seem normal.

N has had his license taken away via DUI.  N has trouble holding down a job and drinks a lot.  No wonder, if he’s grown up in an environment in which he is constantly belittled and cut down, he couldn’t have gotten the confidence in himself to be successful.

The house, which they’ve lived in for 40 years, looks like it has never been updated. Everything is worn out and old, except the fridge. The carpet was very worn and gold colored.  It smelled. It smelled like when you leave towels in the washer too long and then dry them…kind of musty but also an icky sweet/sour smell to the odor. It looked like it could use a really good cleaning.  It looked like it was stuck in a time warp.

What struck me was how her brothers and in turn their own families have scapegoated her and used her dysfunction to deflect their own dysfunction. I could write similar stories about the dysfunction in their own families.  I hate what alcoholism has done to my family.  I hate that so many of us have turned to such destructive measures to cope with our lives.  I hate that there is so much shame and hypocrisy wrapped up this hot mess.  I hate it that the family seems to cannibalize some of us in order to survive, rather than rally around and pull us out of the hell in which we’ve found ourselves.

My therapist has commented on the dysfunction in my family. He asked me, “what are you all running from?”  I really don’t know.  I really have no idea.