When in Doubt . . . .

One of the wise women I mentioned earlier taught me a valuable coping lesson, waaaaaay back when I was a shiny, smart, had the world by the tail, 18 year old, in her last year of high school.

There will come a time when you are in doubt. When in doubt,
  1. Close your eyes
  2. Go shopping (Her mother had said make tea, but let's face it, buying shoes is a whole lot better than making a lousy cuppa!)
  3. Take a nap

I tried number 1, it didn't do much good, so I tried number 2, and bought a couple of necklaces to accessorize.

Accessorizing, for those of you who are interested is grown up goal number 3. Number one was wearing suits to work(they're like a uniform, I love them). Grown up goal number 2 was having nice hair and makeup every day (thanks, Patti!), and grown up goal number three is accessorizing. Elapsed time to grown up goal number 3: 8 years.

Number 2 was a not that expensive method of cheering myself up. (Ugh, I'm a Magpie. Shiny things to buy, all better now.) Then I came home to have a nap.

I'm feeling better now. I went to the Dr's. He took my blood pressure. It was, unsurprisingly, still high, at 164/118. These numbers got his attention. I'm not a big drug person, but then again I'm not a really big fan of having a stroke, so I have my new friend, Mr. Atacand. I have apparently broken all ties with my old friend Ms. Alesse, as she is suspected by the Doctor of causing this unfortunate "Blip". ( I have my doubts about this fact, but we'll see what the internal medicine specialist has to say about it in a month. I'm highly suspicious that my birth control pills, which are known for raising blood pressure, just suddenly started to raise my bp)

The very instant I hit publish on failing, a dear friend from work emailed to ask how I was doing, really. (Hi Anna, wave to the nice people on the internets, would you?) I sent her off to the blog, and realized that was somewhat unfair. Here I whine and complain about people not really asking how we are doing, as she's sending me an email about how I'm doing, really. And to suggest that I don't need the fight to educate people about how to deal with grieving people, but what can she do to help. And I don't know. I have some ideas of talking to a supervisor, who wants to know why I don't smile.

I must remember balance. I must remember that the dark, awful moment I am in, at just this point, is not a permanent condition. Things will get slightly better. Nothing in the situation will change, but I can grieve and smile. When I post that I'm failing, lots of people out here on the internets will cheer me on, and remind me to hang in there, and tell me that I'm doing ok. There will be a million tiny points of light.

Today's funny:

As Mr. Spit and I are sitting in the Doctor's office ( I wasn't sure what the cut off was for going to the hospital, but I was close, so I figured I'd better make him come along)

Mr. Spit looks at the Doctor and me, as the Doctor updates my chart, and says "So, she's not going to die any time soon."

Doctor: Nope.

Me: Well, at least I paid the life insurance bill this month.

Doctor: don't joke about things like this.

Mr. Spit: we did it in the hospital too.

Me: Yep, I pointed out that if I died, at least he could go be sad and lost on a nice, sunny beach somewhere. There isn't a lot of humor when your baby dies. You have to take it where you can find it.