This morning I was going to meet my friends for lunch, but they didn't show and I had the wrong week. Went for a lovely walk at the Nisqually Wildlife Refuge and saw a bird, probably a Warbler, with a yellow belly; a few hummingbirds, and a bald eagle. Stretched my legs. Part of the Boardwalk was fenced off for "sensitive wildlife", so I guess the wildlife was having issues. I looked for deer but didn't see any.
My husband has been back in the hospital, so I brought him some hummus and pita bread first thing. After my walk, he had phoned requesting a ride home. Took awhile for the nurse to get his discharge paperwork squared away, then we got into the car just as a downpour started. We saw two rainbows and a rainbow stub on the way home, but the sun was out when we arrived. He showed more enthusiasm for the hummus when I explained it has garbanzo beans and garlic in it--his favorite.
He's squared away to phone the dialysis outfit in the morning to give them his new schedule. He has gone to the ER prior to his dialysis days every time, so has not gone on his own yet, but we made sure he knows where it is. I kept my eyes open for deer at his place, but didn't see any.
I saw a doe grazing by the edge of the road on Shaw Road on the way home.
A good day.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Good News
A little over a week ago I received notification that my former employer was appealing my unemployment benefits, and setting a court date for a trial. I immediately contacted an unemployment law firm and spent the day today preparing for the trial [via phone] tomorrow morning. I have hardly been able to sleep. Just after 5 PM, I received a voicemail from the judge saying that the employer withdrew the appeal. I was elated.
Before this issue came up I was extremely stressed and worried already because of my unemployment. Now, back in the same boat, I am elated. It is all a matter of perspective.
Monday morning my husband went to the hospital with shortness of breath, and spent a day on the ventilator while he had dialysis to relieve the extra fluid in his circulatory system. Yesterday he came off of the ventilator and this evening he is headed home, due for dialysis on an outpatient basis tomorrow for the first time.
I ordered glasses two weeks ago after visiting the optometrist on account of my double vision and finally picked them up today. It feels strange spending money out of pocket for such an expense, but is necessary due to changes in my vision coupled with symptoms of optic neuritis. The new prescription helps, although it does not correct for the double vision.
Before this issue came up I was extremely stressed and worried already because of my unemployment. Now, back in the same boat, I am elated. It is all a matter of perspective.
Monday morning my husband went to the hospital with shortness of breath, and spent a day on the ventilator while he had dialysis to relieve the extra fluid in his circulatory system. Yesterday he came off of the ventilator and this evening he is headed home, due for dialysis on an outpatient basis tomorrow for the first time.
I ordered glasses two weeks ago after visiting the optometrist on account of my double vision and finally picked them up today. It feels strange spending money out of pocket for such an expense, but is necessary due to changes in my vision coupled with symptoms of optic neuritis. The new prescription helps, although it does not correct for the double vision.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Two Visions
Recently I decided I wanted to live. It wasn't that I exactly wanted to die, before. I certainly wasn't suicidal. I just wanted to escape.
Finally I realized that, in Real Life, or as it's usually referred to in my Faith, looking at things from a spiritual point of view, death isn't what we think it is, anyway. Check the New Testament where Christ says, "let the dead bury the dead." This makes it plain to me that we are not just people having [or not having] a spiritual experience, we are by nature spiritual beings having a physical experience in the physical world, until it's time to move on to the next world, which is only spiritual. And none too soon, I was beginning to think, as I reflected on my multiple tests and challenges. I feel as if I were drowning.
However, if physical death is just moving on, than real "death" is spiritual death; being out of touch with spiritual life. I decided I don't want to be spiritually dead. I want to live.
That was one duality I've been dealing with.
The other duality is my ambivalence about returning to nursing work. The more time I spend in hospitals with nurses who are really on top of their "game"; the more I read job announcements and job descriptions; the more I reflect on how I feel about continuing in the role of a nurse, the more I realize I'm just not that sharp. My heart isn't in it anymore. I want to find something else, but I haven't found the "something else" yet, and it's terrifying to wonder how the future looks. It's like having one foot in a boat and the other on the dock, and the boat is starting to move . . .
Now this duality and all my fears about how to manage a transition from one outlook to another, one occupation to something unknown, with no map or directions, seems to have found a physical manifestation in the sudden onset of my double vision.
My optometrist believes that this is just one more symptom of my optic neuritis flaring up, and that I need to return to the neuro-ophthamalogist to find out what to do. My hunch is that he will do very little. I spent money, that should be going towards rent and bills, on glasses with a new prescription to improve acuity on the left [affected] side. It won't change the double vision, which comes and goes. I didn't buy the medical COBRA from my job, as they wanted something like $800/month. [And, of course, I had dropped my $300/month Regence policy as soon as the work health care kicked in.] Now I'm given the option of spending more money, which I don't have, to solve this problem.
Anyway, through prayer and meditation, I found a place where I have a lot more trust, and feel a lot more alive. Almost joyful. In spite of the difficulties I am in.
O Man of Two Visions! Close one eye and open the other. Close one eye to the world and all that is therein, and open the other to the hallowed beauty of the Beloved.
~Baha'u'llah
Finally I realized that, in Real Life, or as it's usually referred to in my Faith, looking at things from a spiritual point of view, death isn't what we think it is, anyway. Check the New Testament where Christ says, "let the dead bury the dead." This makes it plain to me that we are not just people having [or not having] a spiritual experience, we are by nature spiritual beings having a physical experience in the physical world, until it's time to move on to the next world, which is only spiritual. And none too soon, I was beginning to think, as I reflected on my multiple tests and challenges. I feel as if I were drowning.
However, if physical death is just moving on, than real "death" is spiritual death; being out of touch with spiritual life. I decided I don't want to be spiritually dead. I want to live.
That was one duality I've been dealing with.
The other duality is my ambivalence about returning to nursing work. The more time I spend in hospitals with nurses who are really on top of their "game"; the more I read job announcements and job descriptions; the more I reflect on how I feel about continuing in the role of a nurse, the more I realize I'm just not that sharp. My heart isn't in it anymore. I want to find something else, but I haven't found the "something else" yet, and it's terrifying to wonder how the future looks. It's like having one foot in a boat and the other on the dock, and the boat is starting to move . . .
Now this duality and all my fears about how to manage a transition from one outlook to another, one occupation to something unknown, with no map or directions, seems to have found a physical manifestation in the sudden onset of my double vision.
My optometrist believes that this is just one more symptom of my optic neuritis flaring up, and that I need to return to the neuro-ophthamalogist to find out what to do. My hunch is that he will do very little. I spent money, that should be going towards rent and bills, on glasses with a new prescription to improve acuity on the left [affected] side. It won't change the double vision, which comes and goes. I didn't buy the medical COBRA from my job, as they wanted something like $800/month. [And, of course, I had dropped my $300/month Regence policy as soon as the work health care kicked in.] Now I'm given the option of spending more money, which I don't have, to solve this problem.
Anyway, through prayer and meditation, I found a place where I have a lot more trust, and feel a lot more alive. Almost joyful. In spite of the difficulties I am in.
O Man of Two Visions! Close one eye and open the other. Close one eye to the world and all that is therein, and open the other to the hallowed beauty of the Beloved.
~Baha'u'llah
A Car With a View
Tuesday I had a job interview and a stress management focus group. Wednesday I spent with friends in Lacey until late.
Thursday I awoke at 4:15 AM and showed up at the Port of Tacoma at about 6 AM to clock in and join my assigned "van" for the day and move cars from one lot to another all day. We moved about one car every fifteen minutes. There were about 7 people in the van; the driver had a sheaf of papers with assigned cars to move to a different lot, labeled with the make, color, VIN number etc.
I had about 30 seconds to get into the assigned car, make sure the vents were closed, find the keys and start it up, move the drivers side mirror to an operable position [for the first several trips I never took the time to adjust the mirror so it was actually helpful], adjust the seat forward, turn on the headlight for driving on the public roads, and turn on the hazard lights for driving on the lot, and catch up with the other drivers so I could follow them to the other lot. There was plastic covering every surface, even sometimes the steering wheel, making it slippery to handle. Every car was heavily permeated with "new car smell", and although that scent might be gratifying to the proud owner of a new car, it was nauseatingly intense for us, and we needed to lower the window to be able to breathe.
At the other lot, there was a woman using gestures to get us to park on a gravel lot. Somehow I never seemed to park right. Several times she seemed to lose patience with me. Then it was necessary to sign and date the paper, slide the drivers seat back, remove the fuse cover and disable a particular fuse, turn off the accessories, and place the keys into the glove box with the fuse cover and turn a sign about the air bag outwards from the glove box.
Every car had some anomaly that confused me, the worst being keyless ignitions with a fob to plug in somewhere, and hybrid cars, which had a release for the parking brake on the floor where I could not find it. Every time something threw me I climbed out of the car, which was a cue for one of the nearby "veterans" to come over and help me solve the problem. They were very gracious. The woman beckoning me in to the spot was never gracious. Then we rode back to the original lot in the van and began the circus again. I was so stressed that I was praying with every breath. Literally.
By lunch time I realized that for some reason I had developed double vision, but I just kept compensating and driving anyway. I was determined to continue, and felt that they would think I was inventing the vision issue as a way to get out of work.
After lunch, we started moving cars within the lot. This meant moving a car to either the truck line or rail area, and parking in a numbered, angled lot--with one important twist. It was vital to park with the drivers' side front and rear wheel right on top of the line. Two problems with that: one, I usually couldn't see the line, as the paint was faded, and two, no matter how I looked out the door, looked out the window, or stood on my head, I could not see either the line or the tires of the car, while I was driving it. I knew I was never going to master this.
At last there was a snafu with our assignments on the lot, so we returned to moving cars from one lot to another on the public roads. Which meant, no more parking on the line [yes!] and dealing with the woman's attitude [no!]
The final car I was assigned to had a problem. It would not start. Suddenly I realized it was a stick shift. Crud! Okay, no problem. I had practiced by taking a test drive of a stick shift at the Honda dealer the month before, to recover the "sense memory" of driving a stick. Now to lower the window, vital in ninety degree heat. There was no way to lower the window. I could not find the button anywhere. Thank heaven for air conditioning, because I was going to stifle.
Over-revving, I got the car to the new lot, and even parked without any judgmental intimation from the ogre, prepped the car and got out of it, and returned to the van. "You know," I said, "I looked everywhere for the button to lower the window, and never could find it." "Wasn't it on the door frame?" and other non-helpful comments, such as "I heard you over-revving that stick shift." Finally one of the guys popped out and checked out the car.
It was a window with a crank.
I told the guys they could dine out on that story as long as they wanted. I knew I wasn't coming back.
Thursday I awoke at 4:15 AM and showed up at the Port of Tacoma at about 6 AM to clock in and join my assigned "van" for the day and move cars from one lot to another all day. We moved about one car every fifteen minutes. There were about 7 people in the van; the driver had a sheaf of papers with assigned cars to move to a different lot, labeled with the make, color, VIN number etc.
I had about 30 seconds to get into the assigned car, make sure the vents were closed, find the keys and start it up, move the drivers side mirror to an operable position [for the first several trips I never took the time to adjust the mirror so it was actually helpful], adjust the seat forward, turn on the headlight for driving on the public roads, and turn on the hazard lights for driving on the lot, and catch up with the other drivers so I could follow them to the other lot. There was plastic covering every surface, even sometimes the steering wheel, making it slippery to handle. Every car was heavily permeated with "new car smell", and although that scent might be gratifying to the proud owner of a new car, it was nauseatingly intense for us, and we needed to lower the window to be able to breathe.
At the other lot, there was a woman using gestures to get us to park on a gravel lot. Somehow I never seemed to park right. Several times she seemed to lose patience with me. Then it was necessary to sign and date the paper, slide the drivers seat back, remove the fuse cover and disable a particular fuse, turn off the accessories, and place the keys into the glove box with the fuse cover and turn a sign about the air bag outwards from the glove box.
Every car had some anomaly that confused me, the worst being keyless ignitions with a fob to plug in somewhere, and hybrid cars, which had a release for the parking brake on the floor where I could not find it. Every time something threw me I climbed out of the car, which was a cue for one of the nearby "veterans" to come over and help me solve the problem. They were very gracious. The woman beckoning me in to the spot was never gracious. Then we rode back to the original lot in the van and began the circus again. I was so stressed that I was praying with every breath. Literally.
By lunch time I realized that for some reason I had developed double vision, but I just kept compensating and driving anyway. I was determined to continue, and felt that they would think I was inventing the vision issue as a way to get out of work.
After lunch, we started moving cars within the lot. This meant moving a car to either the truck line or rail area, and parking in a numbered, angled lot--with one important twist. It was vital to park with the drivers' side front and rear wheel right on top of the line. Two problems with that: one, I usually couldn't see the line, as the paint was faded, and two, no matter how I looked out the door, looked out the window, or stood on my head, I could not see either the line or the tires of the car, while I was driving it. I knew I was never going to master this.
At last there was a snafu with our assignments on the lot, so we returned to moving cars from one lot to another on the public roads. Which meant, no more parking on the line [yes!] and dealing with the woman's attitude [no!]
The final car I was assigned to had a problem. It would not start. Suddenly I realized it was a stick shift. Crud! Okay, no problem. I had practiced by taking a test drive of a stick shift at the Honda dealer the month before, to recover the "sense memory" of driving a stick. Now to lower the window, vital in ninety degree heat. There was no way to lower the window. I could not find the button anywhere. Thank heaven for air conditioning, because I was going to stifle.
Over-revving, I got the car to the new lot, and even parked without any judgmental intimation from the ogre, prepped the car and got out of it, and returned to the van. "You know," I said, "I looked everywhere for the button to lower the window, and never could find it." "Wasn't it on the door frame?" and other non-helpful comments, such as "I heard you over-revving that stick shift." Finally one of the guys popped out and checked out the car.
It was a window with a crank.
I told the guys they could dine out on that story as long as they wanted. I knew I wasn't coming back.
What??
"Your browser is no longer supported by Blogger. Some parts of Blogger will not work and you may experience problems. If you are having problems, try Google Chrome. Dismiss." Well that is cold and non-informative. Am I supposed to just switch my blog to Google Chrome? Or is Google Chrome an alternative browser?
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Reflections
I'm still awakening, looking at the blogs FlitzyPhoebe and Baha'i Views, and reflecting. Photos of the writers canoeing in the Black River, where my former husband and I tried to find where to put in with our canoe many years ago but just found a short, slightly swampy passage. Perhaps we did not find the right place; perhaps the time of year was wrong, or the water was low, or the tide [whether it was a factor or not, I don't know] was out. But from the photos, for people in the know who can find the elusive [to us] Black River, it looks like a blessing. It was nice to find a spot on You Tube with bird songs, as I am becoming more interested in those.
Many photos of concerts and Feasts and meetings, and it's nice to see them more objectively: we all seem to have lumps and bumps and bald spots and fork-to-mouth shots, and no one seems too concerned to find their imperfections captured. Because it's the love that dominates every glimpse of a person.
I was also reflecting in the shower [a good place--someone last week in the Stress Management session mentioned using the shower as an opportunity to cry] about the fundamental difficulties I have with work and relationships. What started me off was thinking about abandonment. In my case, the abandonment was emotional; physically I was taken very good care of. There is a line in the final scene of Dr. Zhivago when the grown up child of Dr. Z remembers how she came to be lost. The fires, chaos, and crowds fleeing everywhere, and then--"He let go of my hand!" "That was not your real father," says her uncle, Alec Guinness, "that was Kamarovsky." Meaning, your real father would not have abandoned you.
The relationships I create seem to be about finding someone to take care of me. And then rebelling when they do.
I abandon everyone. I cut and run before things can become too ugly. But sometimes they do, anyway. Sometimes when someone is manipulative, and I rebel against having every string pulled by them, leaving is the only way to reestablish my independence. But if that person is sick, or losing their ability to take care of themselves, now I am abandoning them. So I can either be controlled, or neglectful.
Watched the film "Gaslight" on PBS at last. It was mentioned months ago in an article someone posted on Facebook, concerning the term "gaslighting" a person. The husband in this film causes his wife to feel she's lost her sanity and her credibility. He hides objects in the house, then gets her to find them, making her believe she has stolen or moved the object and then forgotten about it. He changes the level of illumination in the gas lights where they live, which makes her believe that her observations are merely a product of her imagination.
The wife becomes extremely vulnerable, doubting herself and believing she is losing her mind. The term gaslighting references the little ways men, in particular, can frame comments in such a way that they seem objective, but actually undermine the credibility of the woman they are speaking with; the objective being to enhance their own power in the relationship.
So with me continually doubting my abilities and decisions during my life, this film struck home.
Friday I practiced putting a smile on my face to join the gaiety at a bridal shower, determined to respond to the invitation without making anyone else unhappy, and allowing the smile to trickle down into my heart, eventually. That was after a trying day of making several job search contacts and then paying my bills [Oh, thank You--I can still do that.]
Saturday I rose in time to go to the Nisqually National Bird Refuge situated in the delta between Tacoma and Olympia, for a bird walk on the board walk. I was grateful for the nylon poncho I made a few years ago, because it let me dress in light layers underneath, yet still repelled the rain. It's lovely not to be too hot underneath a rain coat. Despite the water that fills the air, it's still fairly warm out.
So we watched for birds, with expert birders along to point them out, and translate the orchestra of trills into individual songs which experienced ears can recognize. We saw rufous hummingbirds, and Anna's hummingbirds, and heard a Western Warbler which we never could spot, and saw two does, or else the same doe twice. Also a female wood duck and her eight teenage 'lings, bobbing their heads as they paddled through the algae. And barn and other types of swallows, and cow birds. There is no current salmon run, so we didn't see raptors.
It's difficult to spot birds in the foliage of trees, and these folks are good at it. I tried to spot a hummingbird's nest the size of a quarter cup measure, several feet away. It reminded me of standing outdoors on winter's nights, with my father trying to get me to spot an individual star by sighting along his arm--an impossible task. It was worth attempting because of his care and attention. At one point, the volunteer birder pointed out a bird that, to me, was just a dark outline on a branch. "That's a Chestnut-coated Chickadee. They're quite rare around here."
Humility must be a valued commodity in the next world.
Many photos of concerts and Feasts and meetings, and it's nice to see them more objectively: we all seem to have lumps and bumps and bald spots and fork-to-mouth shots, and no one seems too concerned to find their imperfections captured. Because it's the love that dominates every glimpse of a person.
I was also reflecting in the shower [a good place--someone last week in the Stress Management session mentioned using the shower as an opportunity to cry] about the fundamental difficulties I have with work and relationships. What started me off was thinking about abandonment. In my case, the abandonment was emotional; physically I was taken very good care of. There is a line in the final scene of Dr. Zhivago when the grown up child of Dr. Z remembers how she came to be lost. The fires, chaos, and crowds fleeing everywhere, and then--"He let go of my hand!" "That was not your real father," says her uncle, Alec Guinness, "that was Kamarovsky." Meaning, your real father would not have abandoned you.
The relationships I create seem to be about finding someone to take care of me. And then rebelling when they do.
I abandon everyone. I cut and run before things can become too ugly. But sometimes they do, anyway. Sometimes when someone is manipulative, and I rebel against having every string pulled by them, leaving is the only way to reestablish my independence. But if that person is sick, or losing their ability to take care of themselves, now I am abandoning them. So I can either be controlled, or neglectful.
Watched the film "Gaslight" on PBS at last. It was mentioned months ago in an article someone posted on Facebook, concerning the term "gaslighting" a person. The husband in this film causes his wife to feel she's lost her sanity and her credibility. He hides objects in the house, then gets her to find them, making her believe she has stolen or moved the object and then forgotten about it. He changes the level of illumination in the gas lights where they live, which makes her believe that her observations are merely a product of her imagination.
The wife becomes extremely vulnerable, doubting herself and believing she is losing her mind. The term gaslighting references the little ways men, in particular, can frame comments in such a way that they seem objective, but actually undermine the credibility of the woman they are speaking with; the objective being to enhance their own power in the relationship.
So with me continually doubting my abilities and decisions during my life, this film struck home.
Friday I practiced putting a smile on my face to join the gaiety at a bridal shower, determined to respond to the invitation without making anyone else unhappy, and allowing the smile to trickle down into my heart, eventually. That was after a trying day of making several job search contacts and then paying my bills [Oh, thank You--I can still do that.]
Saturday I rose in time to go to the Nisqually National Bird Refuge situated in the delta between Tacoma and Olympia, for a bird walk on the board walk. I was grateful for the nylon poncho I made a few years ago, because it let me dress in light layers underneath, yet still repelled the rain. It's lovely not to be too hot underneath a rain coat. Despite the water that fills the air, it's still fairly warm out.
So we watched for birds, with expert birders along to point them out, and translate the orchestra of trills into individual songs which experienced ears can recognize. We saw rufous hummingbirds, and Anna's hummingbirds, and heard a Western Warbler which we never could spot, and saw two does, or else the same doe twice. Also a female wood duck and her eight teenage 'lings, bobbing their heads as they paddled through the algae. And barn and other types of swallows, and cow birds. There is no current salmon run, so we didn't see raptors.
It's difficult to spot birds in the foliage of trees, and these folks are good at it. I tried to spot a hummingbird's nest the size of a quarter cup measure, several feet away. It reminded me of standing outdoors on winter's nights, with my father trying to get me to spot an individual star by sighting along his arm--an impossible task. It was worth attempting because of his care and attention. At one point, the volunteer birder pointed out a bird that, to me, was just a dark outline on a branch. "That's a Chestnut-coated Chickadee. They're quite rare around here."
Humility must be a valued commodity in the next world.
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