Long day yesterday. Gym first. Worked out next to a woman at 9am in full makeup - we're talking spackle, paint and lip gloss. Her towel was icky when she was done. Smeared with makeup. I just don't get it.

Counseling session with the mother yesterday. I wrote directions down for her in advance. Last time my directions for a dr's appt were not adequate, so she called them up herself to get others. Didn't park in the lot I suggested, etc. So she calls me 4 times yesterday morning (while I was at the gym) saying she was in my driveway and wanted to follow me down to the session. (Um, boundaries?) Then she parked her car going the wrong direction at the parking meter. She asked if she should move her car, I told her "there's a spot right there" (indicating on the correct side of the street) but she chose to stay there.

It was exactly as I predicted. She kept dredging up the past. Counselor kept trying to get her to focus on the here/now and on her feelings. She couldn't do it. I told her that I end up feeling incredibly guilty about how I have to set limits with her to which she replied that it was 'a waste of energy' and 'senseless'. Counselor called her on it. Let's just say that she didn't respond well to being called on it. She was dramatic and trying to control things and not answering questions. At the end of the session, counselor asked the mother if she thought it was beneficial and if she gained anything from it. The mother said 'no, it was a waste of time'. She didn't "hear" a single word I said.

When we left, she had a parking ticket for parking in the wrong direction. (sigh)

So I met my friend that's in town for a 'late lunch'. Well, I had water and he had 4 glasses of wine, an espresso and three appetizers. In an hour. It was good seeing him. He's still the cad. It was annoying that every 3 minutes he was checking his crackberry.

Later, I had a talk with one of my closest friends. Sort of rehashing what went on in counseling. His mother recently passed away - and he was about as far from grieving as one could get. So I considered that. He told me that she was never going to change (which I know). He asked if she wasn't related, would I put up with her? I told him that wasn't the issue, that she was my family, pretty much my only family - and that meant something. That she would do anything for me which is more than I can say for most folks. I compared it to his own son - that he was family and he's extremely devoted to his son's happiness and the commitment was because they were family. He admitted there was a time when he was going to cut things off with his son, but he didn't. I told him that I had hoped that things would change - perhaps my mother would and perhaps I would too. Perhaps we can meet in the middle. Or perhaps I'll do all the changing. He told me that if I was going to continue to have a relationship with my mother, that he didn't want to hear about it. It hurt. I thought dear friends were supposed to be there when you needed to vent or support. Maybe I stirred up some unresolved feelings about his own mother. Or maybe he knows how much she causes havoc in my life. I ended up interrupting him, because he was really coming down on her. Telling me that I was a total masochist. I told him that clearly this was a topic we didn't need to discuss, wished him goodnight and hung up.

I felt like I was slapped in the face twice yesterday. Today is a new day though, right?

Someone in Australia did a google search that led to me on "sexual confusion". Like I'm going to be able to tackle that one?

Managed to mow the front yard yesterday. Guest cat is in "Time Out" indefinitely. Tired of dealing with her ass. She comes downstairs, Lulu approaches her ever so politely - sort of like a goodwill ambassador for the house but Guest cat still goes psycho. Kudos to Lulu for continually trying.

Counseling session today with The Mother. She called four times last night. I didn't answer any of the calls. She can show up or she won't. I don't hold much faith in her being sincere. The other two occasions that she's showed up in sessions (years and years ago), she has appeared being totally plastic and in total denial. At least the counselor will see what I'm working with... 

I was too engrossed in some stupid show last night on CBS about a guy (grandson of Jacques Cousteau) building a white shark submarine. Well, let me clarify... I was engrossed with this guy on the show about building a white shark submarine that I thought was uber-hot. And I'm not one to normally get all hot and flustered about anyone on tv. I kept wishing that they'd do a full-body shot of him in a wetsuit, but I remembered that they were diving in cold water. (I admit I did a search online for him, but all I could find were pics that he took of Fabian Cousteau.) The show was stupid and for a Cousteau, this dude didn't think things out very well.

Remember my friend that was in town in November, we went to the Aquarium, I sent him a thank-you note which his wife opened and went ballastic (and he subsequently went ballastic on me because he didn't tell his wife he went to the Aquarium with me). We were just friends - I would never have dreamed of crossing that line. He apologized but things have dropped off significantly - from many emails/calls a week to maybe 3-4 emails/calls in the past 6 months. He's in town and we're going to rendezvous this afternoon. Not quite sure what to expect.

Fell asleep on sofa last night. Woke up in desperate need of massage as my neck, back and hips were not cooperating. Sum it up to say, mildly cranky mood.

Off I trudge to the gym to pay my dues to the Elliptical machine gods. Headphones on watching videos. Two women (late 20's) get on the 2 ellipticals next to me and spend the next 30 mins yacking away about one of their's date last night. I wasn't eavesdropping, I tried turning up the volume on my headphones but they were SO loud. This apparently was a 3rd date. She had to recount dates one and two as well. On date 3 (in a week) they are already discussing their 'relationship'. I was biting my tongue to keep from laughing. The other girl asked her at one point what he did for a job. The girl didn't have a clue. Their date involved a movie he picked out especially for her. (Blue Velvet)

At that point, I laughed out loud. I mean, how cliche/unsubtle can you be?

(They thought I was laughing at the TV)

They were barely ellipticalling (new word) because they were yammering so much. The other girl asked if he was a good kisser. (Looking in the reflection in the glass, and judging by her stammering, it was pretty clear the movie was a success. She said they fell asleep watching the movie. B.S.!) I did my 45 mins and was ready to cut my ears off. So I decided to retreat to the sauna with book in hand...

Not three minutes later, the Yammering Duo come in. First they take forever to come in - letting out all the hot air. Then they start complaining about how hot it is. (It's a sauna, duh!) So they keep walking out and coming back in while continuing to talk about the 'relationship'. I swear they were already planning out reception sites and bridesmaid color schemes.

At this point, I'm considering if I could take both of them down and 'accidentally' drown them in the whirlpool. If anyone had heard them blabbering, they'd definitely say I did it as a result of temporary insanity.

P.S. I'd SOOO love to hear the guy's version of the events and the high-5's on the guys' side of the locker room.

If only you could have seen me last night...

We haven't had a rain in ages. And my neighbor's trees have grown over my yard so much that there's no grass, just dead leaves, weeds, and dust.

Determined to at least mow the back yard, I armed myself with sunglasses (aka protective eyewear), a hat, and began mowing. The DUST and dirt that it stirred up! Even with the power function, I could barely keep it going and it pulled me down the hill.

But dammit, my back yard is mowed!

So I took off my shirt (yes, I was wearing a sports bra you pervs) and hosed myself off outside as much as possible before hitting the shower.

When I got to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I laughed my ass off because my entire face was coated in dirt and grass particles except where my sunglasses were. I guess you could say I was a very dirty girl!

Not been a particularly good week. Interview at the aquarium went fine - they have to do a background check which takes 4-6 weeks, then a drug test and then orientation, blah blah blah.

My primary doctor called me last night and gave me some not good news about the recent testing I've had done. She's talking to neurology today and will keep me posted. She told me that they'd 'get to the bottom of it', but it's still freaking me out considering how lackidaisical they are about things.

Add in the whole mom stuff and a week where my body is telling me I've overdone things, so I'm going to curl up into a ball and hide from the world for a while. There are times when I just can't fake the cheery push-thru-things attitude.

And I'm on the verge of killing and skinning Guest Cat.

Worst scene ever with my mother today. Thank GOD I had taken some anti-anxiety meds. Still it doesn't hurt the pain. The horrible things she said. I took the high road - for the first time in years, I didn't raise my voice, I kept calm and really tried to listen.

At one point, she tossed a box on the table and said "Since you refused to see me over Christmas,  here. I picked it out two months before Christmas."

(I had told her repeatedly from October on that I needed some space, that meant no calls, lettters, visits while I got myself stabalized because she tended to aggravate my anxiety. Still she persisted with calls upon calls (which I never answered or returned except occasionally to leave a reminder to please leave me alone), the guilt-soaked letters and the unannounced visit where she entered my home uninvited after a barrage of calls she made - the clue when I said "Get the hell out of my house or I'm calling the police" might have been a subtle clue to her.)

I told her that I didn't think this was the appropriate time or manner to give a gift in such a way. That if she probably put a lot of time and effort into selecting it - and I didn't something from her in such a negative manner. So she told me to give it to the mailwoman or throw it in the trash. I told her that it was very hurtful.   

She proceeded to start bringing up a variety of stuff from the past while I tried to keep it on one topic - the gift and how she hasn't been considerate of my boundaries. I told her that I opened/read her letter sent last week with my therapist because I wanted to do it in a supportive  environment. She interrupted and said that I only told her half the story and lied to her. (What good would it do me to lie to my therapist - it only cheats me?) I told her that reading her letter verbatim made it quite difficult to give half the story and lie when Iw as reading her words. I said that I had written a repsonse to her letter and wanted to go over it with my therapist later this week and possibly edit it before sharing it with her. She said she wanted to meet with my therapist and tell her the whole story. It old  her that I wasn't sure what her position was on that, but I would ask her. (My mother has gone to 2 therapy sessions that I can recall in my lifetime - she was superficial and totally dodging the hard-hitting questions they asked. She was like the Stepford mom - I didn't even recognize her in there and thought it was a waste of time.)

While this is going on, I'm standing in the doorway to my garage. She's in the garage holding a pair of tree loppers. She was so defensive and irrational it reminded me when I was 14 and she tried to hit me in the head with a hammer, but I ducked and it left a huge hole in the wall. (Which I wrote "Made my mom" with the date) To this day, she still denies it ever happened. She tells me she loves me - I tell her that I don't doubt she has the best of intentions, but love shouldn't cause so much pain and turmoil. (She didn't like that one)

As a side note, I sent a brief handwritten card to my father for father's day. I don't refer to him as 'dad' or "father' because in my heart, he's never earned those terms of endearment. I've referred to him by his first name for years which pissed him off to no avail. Why do I send the card every year? I don't know - I guess to keep the possibility alive. He has no contact with any of his blood relatives. The mom told him 9 months ago about my health situation. He hasn't tried to contact me at all. 95% of me would rather not hear from him - because I have more than enough drama going on right now. I've always been the 'abnormal one' (his words) and been treated like the black sheep of his family. Still, there's a tiny fraction of a party of me that wishes that he would have at least acknowledged the card. I still feel it like a rejection. It's just another reminder of how alone I am. I have great friends, but unfortunately, they are hours away.

I thought writing about it would help. But it hasn't. And I can't even recall all of the things that she said. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. It's already hard to see from all the crying I've done. I've left a message with my therapist for a ASAP call back.

Maybe later I'll update. Right now, I think I just need to go cry more.

Too damn tired to get into all the gory details du jor. Let's just say that my horoscope or the stars or some sort of karmic forces were against me.

My car: the molding on the lower portion of the driver's door has been 'fixed' four times. Thursday I noticed a squeaking when I opened the door, so I thought it needed some WD40. Hit the appropriate spots, tried to work it in some, still squeaking. (Saturday) I noticed, the panel was coming off and bending the panel that is is over the wheel. Big time.

So I called the mom because she had ended up with the name of the head hauncho at the dealership on the 4th go-round. I asked her for his name and number. She gave it to me.

My plan for the day was to go to the gym, then the dealership since it's about a mile away...

So I'm on the way to the gym, at a red light. Couple of cars in front of me. A car behind me is trying to pull out/into the cars waiting to go (behind me) so I ease up. A bit more. And a bit more. I end up every so slightly tapping the car infront of me. The guy (a very large angry looking black man) gets out of his car in the middle of the street with the light now green - I'm waving him to pull over to a parking lot (as well as the car behind me - since I thought they would back me up - but alas, they drove off). So Mr. Angry Man gets out of his car, looks at his bumper (a 1990-ish Impala-esque) - not a bump scratch or mark on it. He whips out his phone and calls the police. I ask him why he is bothering considering it was just a tap and there was no damage. He said "my grandmother is in the car and her neck is hurting her".

Bullshit. I was going no more than 2mph for 3ft. I tell him that there's no need to involve the police or insurance as the cars are fine. We exchanged names/phone numbers and left. I have a bad feeling that they are going to try to pull a scam. I should have taken a picture of his car showing no damage but he agreed to 'get out of there before the police showed up'.

So I do the gym thing. I just don't have the stamina to do the workout I've always done. I'm dragging... I shower and dress - denim shorts, floral camisole top (with bra for the record), red beaded flip-flops, and my hair in a pony tail.

I go to the dealership. And who is waiting for me... The mother. She's already discussed the situation with the service manager and she's just waiting for me. I'm taking deep breaths - I know she MEANS well, but this was NOT necessary. I am an adult. I can take care of my car.

In less than 2 minutes, she proceeds to insult me 5 times - my hair, my minimal makeup, my wearing a camisole w/o a jacket (it's 95 degrees), my not wearing earrings (I explained I had JUST come from the gym and didn't like to wear them there), and my nails not being painted. (I took a very deep sigh and wished I could overdose on Klonopin at that moment).

So we're instructed to go to the body shop. The guy there was uber-nice and said he'd have it fixed in about an hour. The mom says "goody! we can go out to lunch!" I say I'm on a diet and can't eat out. I suggest a local discount dept store to kill time. (I needed a new coffee grinder to grind my flax seeds..

BIG MISTAKE. HUGE. The mother considers this a primo opportunity to make her own fashion decisions on my behalf. Polka-dotted blouse. Matching pants. She argued about a pair of knee length shorts that I liked and a pair of matching Bass sandals that were uber-cute.

In the dressing room, she made commentary on me not wearing a thong - I was wearing fricking denim shorts - no thong was necessary and I hate wearing them anyway. I was ready to walk out right there...

So she doesn't even ask me if I like the polka-dot blouse or the pants, she just buys them. (I'll be going back tomorrow to exchange them for the shorts, shoes and a cute warm-up suit I saw).

Anxiety of the car incident and the mother have me on edge. And she's invading tomorrow to act as a witness to an issue I'm having with the termite company (they haven't been doing inspections). Which means I have to finish cleaning the house when all I want to do is curl up and go to bed.

Guesstimates on how many insults she'll drop on me tomorrow? I'm going to guess 11. At least I can hit the gym early and be home and medicated before the invasion.

I have a riverbirch tree in my front yard whose branches are growing against the house and in desperate need of getting cut back. Needless to say, my volunteer yard crew has failed to step up, so this morning I decided to get it done.

Armed with one of those tree lopers that guarantees not to get stuck and easy to cut branches up to 2 1/2 inches thick, I saunter out with my mp3 player and start chopping.

Well, at least I try to start chopping. The thing kept getting stuck. When I was successful in cutting a branch, I'd look down to keep it from falling on my face. I realized that already I had blisters on five of my fingers - I'm such a delicate flower...

Suddenly, I felt something down my shirt. A crawly sort of thing. I start wiggling and shaking my shirt. I still feel it crawling on my back. So in the front yard, I yank off my shirt (I'm wearing a bra) and I'm brushing my back. I look up and there is my creepy next door neighbor standing in full view, watering his yard. He just smiled.

I shook off my shirt and my back and put it back on and tried to continue with as much dignity as possible.

The tree looks like a 3yr old did it. But at least the branches aren't against the house anymore and my neighbor has gotten his oogling for the morning until I go out on the back deck and suntan topless this afternoon.

Doc update: saw six different dermatologists yesterday. They took 5 biopsies of the blistered area. None of them could explain it. Some still say it's shingles. Others say no. Some suggested some medical jargon that was over my head. I still have new blisters appearing and running a fever for 22 days straight, but they are stopping the antibiotics and tell me to wait 2 weeks for the biopsy results. I love this medical system.

P.S. I'm off to return this piece of shit tree loper from Lowe's.

Back from the Dermatologist Summit '06. I had five different dermatologists come in and ask me a bunch of questions, take pictures, asking me if I had any rashes under my arms or my breasts. (which required me flashing them to prove otherwise). They said they'd never seen anything like this and weren't sure what it was, that they couldn't rule out shingles or some other infectious matter. Then they took 4 biopsies and told me to 'hang loose' until the biopsy results come back in 2 weeks. 

Even though I have more blisters appearing... They wouldn't give any pain meds or switch my antibiotics or do would cultures to see if the Staph B is clearing up since I'm still in considerable pain and running a fever now for 20+ days, said I'd need to get those thru my PCP (who's on vacation for 2 weeks).

Oh, the joy.

After yet another round with 'the mother' a few days ago, I got another one of her letters in the mail on Tuesday. I haven't even bothered to open it. I have a counseling appointment this afternoon, so I figure it's good material for the session.

It's horrible to say but I am finding myself contemplating more and more about moving away from Atlanta. I love it, but I feel the need to get away from her. I doubt distance would solve much, but six months of not speaking to her didn't help either.

I've begged and pleaded with her to respect boundaries, but she pushes forward all in the spirit of what she feels is in my 'best interest'. She doesn't know me, doesn't have a clue about what is in my best interest. And I don't know her. For years, I've tried to get to know her but she won't ever share anything personal - it's always about the superficial things. She refuses to talk about her personal life at all. She's been in the hospital having surgery and I had to hear about it from a neighbor. It's just not normal. 

Nothing positive comes out of her mouth - I'm over 30 and she still feels the need to make insults (thinly veiled) about everything from my clothing, to my hair to my weight and I can go on and on. One day I was working in the yard and she told me I really shouldn't wear my hair back in a ponytail as it wasn't flattering. (I was working in the yard - am I supposed to be in full regale to pull weeds?) 

Just venting and feeling frustrated. It's not that she doesn't love me - there's no doubt about that. But her love does nothing but cause pain and self-doubt in myself. As well-intentioned as it may be, it's not healthy. I have tried to keep up the mantra of "She means well" but I'm not sure I really can keep up with that much longer. Still I feel like the bad guy - she's good at the martyr routine.

I feel like the cheese. I'm an only child. Haven't seen my father in 8 years even though he lives 10 minutes away. And now I'm on the verge of cutting the ties with my mother as well. As that song goes, the cheese stands alone.

I wonder if I'd be a Gouda or Mozzarella? As long as it's not Cheez-Whiz.

Dr visit today. More not good news. I think I'm going to have any future doctors I see sign a "only good news permitted" terms of agreement.

I'm in the mood to bury myself in some cookies but that will make me feel even more like ca-ca. I took a handful of Klonopin last night after all the drama (including several rounds with the mother) and went to bed at 6pm. In the mail today, there's a letter from her - I'm not even remotely interested in reading it.

On a positive note, I finished "Marley & Me" while waiting (3 hours) for my dr's appt. GREAT read. I was laughing my posterior off thru most of the book. The ending is sad - but a happy sad - I was sitting in the waiting room crying. People were looking at me like I was nuts. Four paws up for Marley & Me.  

Two more blisters on my lower abdomen showed up yesterday. They are small but!!!!! What the hell is going on!?!?! Fever was up this morning - I fell asleep last night before my 10pm antibiotic. And I can't remember if I took it this morning. Lovely.

I need a male nurse. I prefer him in a loincloth, but as long as he's entertaining, handy around the house and doesn't annoy me, he's hired. (Granted, the pay is zilch but if he's cute, he can give me a sponge bath, that's gotta be worth something!)

Unfortunately, my yard hasn't stopped growing despite me supposedly on bedrest. It's to the point where the cats can be in the grass and I can't see them unless I am right over them.

Time to mow.

Dragged myself out there this morning. Got the mower out. Didn't have the strength to pull the cord fast enough to start it. (Although there's an alternate theory that my mother removed a spark plug from it or something so that I wouldn't be able to do it myself...) On the otherhand, I have had a hard time opening my car door too.

So I guess I need some goats. Do they know how to edge?

Got a call from the doc. (8:30am) Turns out we are in a quandry. I'm not supposed to take sulfa-based drugs b/c of my autoimmune 'issues'. Yet it's the only antibiotics that will work on my infection - staph B. She's doing some research about what to do.

This just keeps getting more fun by the minute.

 Update: the doc called back an hour later. (Not my regular doctor, but the one on call today, as my regular doctor isn't back in the office until Thursday). Not-my-regular-doc told me to get down to the actual hospital ASAP to see the head of dermatology. I told her that I wasn't up to driving down to the hospital as I'm feeling lightheaded and exhausted from yesterday. Other than feeding the cats, and checking email, I haven't gotten out of bed today

She replies "well, I'll just write in your chart that you are refusing treatment."

I said, "I am NOT refusing treatment, I am just not up to a 90 minute drive right now. I wouldn't feel safe and I don't have anyone nearby that I could rely on to get me down there."

She said (in a really bitchy tone) "Well, I'll have to call your doctor and see what she wants me to do with you.." (click) That was 3 hours ago...

Left a msg on my doc's vm telling her that if I end up dead en route to the hospital, it's rather pointless to see the dermatologist.

I'm sitting at my desk, reading emails, eating some vanilla yogurt. I realize what a spoiled brat Lulu is. With each bite I take, she starts meowing in this really sarcastic tone, getting louder and louder. Is it impatience or does she realize that with every bite I take, that's less that she gets. 

She seems to have radar - whenever I take a yogurt container out of the fridge, she comes running.

Right now, her head is stuck in the container...

I need a Ph.D. to figure out the logistics of taking my medication and coordinating it with my daily doses of vitamins, and meals. I've had to sketch things out on paper, like a word problem to figure things out.

Patient A has to take two pills, 5x a day. The pills have to be taken at least one hour before a meal or three hours after a meal. Additionally, the pills must not be taken within 4 hours of taking her daily vitamins (morning and evening). *Patient A cannot take all 5 doses at the same time.

I have always hated word problems...

Last night was bad painwise. And I'm typically a trooper when it comes to pain. I was thinking about taking some expired pain meds that I'm allergic to, it was that bad. Still not feeling spectacular this morning. But, after doing some reading about shingles, I'm pretty grateful I don't have it on my face - at least I look nornal (relatively speaking).  

Consider me a roofer.... Doctor says I have shingles... Told me to stay in bed until the fever breaks. A friend said I was vitamin-deficient - told me about how people on ships for long times would get shingles. Told him he was a dumbass, that he was thinking of scurvy. LOL

I came down with a case of chicken pox when I was 16. The week before school was getting out my Junior year. I had these 'spots' on my torso during school, but didn't want to show them to my mother because I was having a party that night (with the mom's approval). Someone mentioned I might have C.P. - checked with all the girls sleeping over to make sure they had all had it before they came over.

Saturday morning, post-fiesta, I took a long hot shower. When I got out, I looked like I had gotten in a fight with a red marker. They had literally exploded on me.

Turns out 'the mom' hadn't had Chicken Pox. I had a really bad case and ended up in the hospital. But before I went to the hospital, I remember 'the mom' taking care of me wearing a mask and rubber gloves. (She never got them).

All my chicken-pox exposed friends were out of town at camp except one, so I spent waaaaay too much quality time with Rebecca. She was one of those that it was best to spend small doses of time with. She amused herself by playing 'connect the chicken pox' on me - trying to spell out her name, designs, etc. There were times when I was pleading for "No more Rebecca, please!" So the mom took me to the Drive-in. Was pretty darn funny with her sitting in the car at the movie, her still wearing gloves and a mask...

The mom was fanatical about me not ending up with scars from the pox, so she duct-taped kitchen mitts to my hands. (I could still itch). Then she'd chase me with Vitamin E oil... I have one small scar on my face and one under one of my boobs. Pretty amazing considering how many I had...  

Hot Stud called this morning - had a long chat with him, he's sweet to express concern over my demon blisters. Offered to call some of his doc friends at one of the local hospitals if I needed him to. Wants to take me to lunch tomorrow...

Then...

My doctor FINALLY returned my calls from last Friday, this Tues and Wednesday, this afternoon. Told me to come in ASAP.

Her jaw dropped when she saw the sores - said she had no clue what they might be. She did a culture (results won't be back until Monday), took a few pints of blood (results back tomorrow). I spent 5 hours there while she was researching things online.

Got me an appt with a dermatologist tomorrow morning and gave me antibiotics, something 'in case its shingles' (which I'm not taking) and pain medication (which I refused despite hurting like crap).

She said that since my immune system is totally out of whack, that my body responds in some truly bizarre ways. (Duh!)

While waiting, I read a book and started a letter to April/KrazedOne. So if you have any messages for her, leave them in the comments and I'll print them out and mail them along with my letter...