Stinging singing

I often wish I could sing.

Just open my mouth and have something akin to a melody come out.

I can kind of carry a tune and my job entails that I sing nursery rhymes for kids, but it mean really sing.

In a grown up way.

This is how a blog started ages and ages ago, then I got to thinking about it, and a little voice in me asked which other gift or talent I'd give up to have it.

Would I stop loving reading stories to kids?

Stop writing?

Stop working on drama events?

Stop getting an insane amount of joy out of spending time with kids?

.. And other stuff.

Um none of the above, actually. 

There are people who wish they could do those things.

There are people who wish they could do other things.

And I bet those people can sing. 

Or if they can't sing, they can do other awesome stuff, like cook, or talk without over-talking, or tell jokes without forgetting the punch line.

Other things I struggle with.

So I will continue to confuse people who can't work out the tune I'm singing, hum occasionally, and sing twinkle twinkle with all the gusto I have, leaving the proper real singing to the people blessed with that particular talent... I'll still be jealous, but I'm okay with that.

Pantry delights

The other weekend I tackled sorting our pantry,

No biggie, I know.

Not expecting kudos and congratulations. 

The pantry isn't my favourite place, but I decided it needed sorting.

I didn't go so far as alphabetising the shelves... Yet.

As I rearranged the various coffees and spices, I got to thinkiing how the pantry has changed and been a reflection of our lives.

When we were young hip and wonderful.. We were, just stay with me here, the pantry had a different look.

We lived on mainly 1980s staples for meals; so not a lot of multiculture or trends. The ingredients for heavy sauces and stodgy casseroles rocked the shelves.

As one then another (then another and another) child joined the family, the pantry continually took on a life of its own. Through about 6 house moves, the contents of the pantry remained a source of frustration and sustenance.

Over time, the small room took on its own life.

Shelves of basic foodstuffs gave way to childhood favourites including home made biscuits and cakes (back when I was 'a good mum') 

Boxes of breakfast cereal sat on the bottom shelf where the kids could self serve their weekend breakfast. (Anything for an extra half hour lie in)

As the kids got more independent, tins of baby food were replaced by tins of baked beans, we could have had a factory for three minute noodles, and the makings of fairy bread slowly gave way to more mature tastes.

Meal sized tins of tuna, muesli bars, packets of biscuits and cup a soups dominated during the high school years, giving way to meal in a can or packet options for after school snacks.(tacos, etc)

The bread shelf has been in different positions but always always full. Sometimes of homemade bread, sometimes fancy store bought bread, (you know, stuff with 'bits' in it..) plain store bought bread and other yeasty delights. The bread maker given to us one Christmas was a Godsend. We went through so much bread it was crazy, after we got thread maker we went through even more bread because.. Smells and soft dough. 

As the children grew and moved on, the arrangement and contents changed, reflecting their and our lives. Only one adult child remains at home; snack foods still exist, but not so many.

Today the shelves have a cornucopia of sauces, sticks and spices. Mostly Asian based, but such a variety...

Rice is bought almost by the bushel, and coffee by the wagon load.. 

The memory of chubby fists reaching to help gather ingredients for tea giving way to competent self caterering hands...

The giggle of children playing hide and seek in the confines of this small room giving way to people calling out that we're out of chcolate topping again...

The breakfast cereal going from weetbix to rice bubbles to nutri grain to porridge to weetbix ....

Through the changes and shifts, a few things remain the same. Besides the kids knowing they can invade the area at any time, that is...

The impossible pile of mismatched Tupperware ...

and the fact that we are ever so blessed to have always had enough food to stock a pantry. 

Tale of dog.

The dog was unwell.

He was drinking copious amounts of water, foraging even more for food, and lying around exhausted.

Either he was getting to be a middle aged man, or he was unwell.

We decided unwell. Google approved of our decision.

Husband made an appointment for dog with the vet, then, on the day of the visit, he had to work.

Son was already going out, daughter was already out.

Oh. That leaves me to escort said canine to the vet.

Sigh.

I've taken kids to the doctors many many times for years, and many many times for other medical stuff, how hard could it be, really? How different?

Oooohhhh.... That different. *facepalm*

When I go to the doctors, the receptionist looks up and asks who I am, points to where to sit.

Go in to the vet, receptionist looks not at me but at the hound and says "ohh hello milhouse! *fuss fuss fuss pet pet* Aren't you beautiful? And so funny. Does your mummy want to sit down?" 

(Note: You really need to know at this point that I do NOT refer to myself as his mummy. If I gave birth to something like that it would be a medical miracle. And I'd be very afraid.)

Note, however, that this happened after we got into the actual clinic.

On the way into the clinic... Oh good grief where do I even start. It's been over a fortnight ... And I'm almost ready to spill details.

Getting him into the car was ridiculously easy. Trying to explain to him halfway to the car that I had the wrong keys and needed to go back inside was the stuff of horror movies. Wailing, begging, hunkering down... Dragging the lead... (Uh yeah him)...

Then he thinks he's people so shouldn't sit in the floorwell.

Well. He sits there now. 

Score one to me.

As soon as I opened the car door outside the clinic and grabbed hold of the lead, he leapt out. He trotted nicely along the path through the gate towards the door. 

We looked like any normal pet owner and pet, really.

The dog looking for all the world like a normal dog. Me looking like I was holding a lead.

He saw the open clinic door. And shook his head madly, dislodging the lead. (Still don't know how) 

He ran inside the door, leaving me to collect the abandoned lead from the path. He raced into the reception area where he was greeted as described above.

He then ran around sniffing everything in sight and scratching the walls, the chairs and the weight scale while I was picking up the contents of my handbag that he'd knocked out of my hands; then the packets he pushed off a shelf. He then raced out of the room, down the corridor, though the clinic, through the staff room and into their kennels.

Where he sat waiting for me to find him.

The clinic cat sat on a bench looking rather alarmed at the unwelcome visitor.

Even the receptionist was amazed. And amused.

I was furious.

Had he been a child, I'd have been tutted at, had whispered comments about naughty children, bad parents, ADHD, WHS standards and repercussions, etc. by anyone in attendance.

Because he is a dog, he was 'cute'. Not even remotely naughty or disobedient, even though I had called him several times and his claws scratched me when he wouldn't be held.

He was called 'nervous'. I called it 'painful'.

I reattached his lead, lifted and carried him back to the waiting room, and sat with him on the ground firmly wedged between my legs waiting his turn. I wished I could distract him with a book or a look out the window as I could with a child.

They still called him 'excited' and I had to remove him from the waiting room while another family brought their dog out, as the staff were worried about them meeting. So was I, so was I. He had become 'that dog' and I reluctantly 'that dog's owner'.

So anyways, after reaching the treatment room, there was only a bit more trauma (for me) as he tried to dislodge his lead, climb the furnishings and explore... This including my receiving praise for how much he loved me because I had him so calm (HAH!!!) while they extracted blood....

and a quick blood test ruled out diabetes, but they sent his specimen away for more testing.

Inconclusive results but we're pretty sure we know what's wrong. Apart from having a ratbag attitude, that is.

He sits nonplussed, I am in fear of ever entering a vet clinic again. 

The lizards in the backyard are still endangered as are the birds, butterflies and garden. His stupidity knows no bounds, and his desperately seeking sustenance from empty breakfast cereal boxes continues.

As yet, my brother's dog still holds the record for bizarre behaviour (it pooped out a whole sock) but since Milhouse heard that story a few months back, he appears to have taken this record as a personal challenge. 

Weirdo.

Medi-cision

It's been a while now, waiting to see how my brain and body responded to the absence of meds.

Hmm. Interesting. I wrote here that I felt wretched, and I did. Then I got an interesting insect bite on my leg which itched and ached.... And when I finally got a doctor to look at it, she diagnosed it as shingles. 

Caused by the herpes virus which lies dormant, the stress I'd put my body under - meds withdrawal and emotional - brought it out as shingles (again). Aha! Wretchedness made sense. Took a wee while to get over, not sure I'm there yet as the scars of the spots still survive.

And here I am back to square one, all the feels that drove me to the doctor for the first GAD (general anxiety disorder) diagnosis years ago. 

Sigh.

Continual feelings of dread (you know, when you're a kid and waiting to get into trouble for something, that pit of the stomach feeling? That. All day.)

Brain unable to stop. Insomnia.

Over processing.

I look around and know I live comfortably, I know when my family are and they're safe, I have great friends and a solid job.  Nothing to be anxious about.

In this world where judgements and opinions are freely and easily shared, I hesitate to tell people. 

So many "know" how I feel, and offer me advice. While their motives are good, their actions stunt my progress, as the frustration I feel about their actually not knowing (when you 'know', you say different things to what I hear) adds to the pile of unnecessary emotions.

I've acted horribly, said things I regret and not been a nice person to be around at all.

But it's not all gloom and doom. Life goes on and stuff has to happen, so it does. 

Every day I feel better, every day I understand it more. Yet every day I still wonder about my decision.

 

The joy of the kids.

One child in China in particular who I refer to as my child in spirit. A connection I cannot fathom... 

I knew she'd remember me but would she remember the bond we had? The connection we made?

Here's my Facebook status from that day: 

"I scanned the faces at the orphanage doorways looking for her, then as I turned to ask my husband to have his camera ready in case she WAS there... An almighty yell, and a body leapt from the group, was wrapped around mine - legs around my waist, arms around my neck and my face smothered in kisses. She remembered". 

I held back the tears of joy as I held her, amazed over again that this bundle of energy chose me. 

A child who last year spoke to a only few of us ... after the year before ignoring team because of the pain of being orphaned at an older age. Who this year chatted and joined in.

The young man whose face showed his defeat, that the system had broken him; but his shy smile when team members helped him choose his 'English' name.

The little man whose feisty spirit was matched by his temper. His distinctive face puckering up as he roared at us, his frustration at his inability to fully communicate in even his own language evident. His eagerness to run outside, then his surprising skill with a soccer ball, plus his occasional cheeky smile endeared him to many. 

The shy child who blossomed when selected to be "it" in a game.

The bossy child who had to show their craft work first.

The children..

whose tongue-out-of-mouth concentration while doing their work, 

whose attention to detail in drawing faces,

Whose catching and throwing abilities varied

Who loved the idea of parachute play

Who hated the idea of parachute play

Who knew early on which bag the treats were kept in meaning you had to be vigilant

Who manage a few English words as they shout along to your songs..

The definitive factor -- they're just kids.

They are no different to the kids at your local playgroup or kindergarten. No different to your children's friends or your friend's children.

And like every child, they want to be seen heard known and loved.

And they may only ever get two of those.

So showing them love is easy, so easy.

My china heart asploded again.

I did revisit China. You may not know that given the direction my posts have gone, but i did.

This time my husband came along as well.

That added a whole different dimension in many ways.

I could and should and will write several posts about the trip, but I'm hesitant to because it's still my 'thing'. Not that I can't or won't share it or about it, more that I am still processing, still unwrapping and exploring things that happened.

People tell me I'm different after this trip. I agree. It didn't devastate me in the way the last one did.

And people say...

'You knew what to expect'

'Youve already seen it'

'You had you husband to help'

'You didn't get the same shock as you would have the first time'

Maybe, maybe, maybe and maybe,

Or.. No no no and no.

I knew what to expect...

Sure we visited the same places and some of the children were the same.. Is that a good thing? That these babies and children haven't moved on in 12 months? Did my heart break again over them? Yes.

Did I expect to see them all again? In all honesty yes. They are generally considered the 'unadoptables' their age or disabilities making them hard to place with families.

Another orphanage with all different children but the same look in their eyes and the same need for love. And maybe I knew what to expect but my heart breaking open again was no less raw the second time.

I'd already seen it...

Seen what? The poverty, the hopelessness, yet the joy and the love. Yes I'd seen it, but I was no less immune to its bittersweet flavour. No less able to look away and no less able to pick up a snotty nosed child in their moment of need.

I'd seen it before but like with your own child who needs you today just the same as he did yesterday, it's still new and fresh and you aren't less involved or less attached.

I had my husband with me...

This was in turn easier and harder. I have been reading researching and following orphanage foster home and adoption blogs and books for a few years. I have read about what the country is like, its background and its politics. 

He hasn't. 

He saw my photos of kids laughing and heard my stories of kids singing and giggling.

So he didn't see the hidden back stories that burn in me nor question the 'reasonings' that don't always make sense, and I got impatient that he didn't. Had he not been my husband I wouldn't have even explained the gaps in his knowledge, so that was unfair. I stopped doing that because not everyone's heart needs to be annihilated, not everyone needs to know the inner workings. Most people just need to show love to these kids and he did. In spades.

And he seemed determined to be strong for me in case I was weak. Which in a strange way made me want to protect him more.

I didn't get the same shock...

Oh I did. Trust me I did. 

I saw different things amidst different layers of things.

But I still saw things that broke me, heard things that stunned me and changed me again and anew.

And trying to say 'no that's not how I feel' or 'that's not why I feel that way' or anything in response to people's comments is wrong. It either sounds arrogant or wimpy, depending on the situation.

I just smile and say "maybe".

Because it's too big a story and people don't always understand the God connection in it. That He is the reason for it all.

God is still good. He is still in control. I didn't get totally wrecked this time because He didn't need to totally wreck me. This time, He just needed to show me different things, open and soften me in different ways. He has sustained me and will continue to do so. I still wonder what is in store, where all this is headed, but He knows, and He works all these things together for good.

'No normal' is the new black.

Today was a better day.

Less brain drain, less adrenalin overload, less stuttering. 

But i went to the doctor anyway. I made an appointment with him yesterday when I was kind of beside myself. My doc is away but this guy I've not seen before was good.

He assured me I was 'normal' because there is no normal. No standard gauge of what normal feels like. We're all different, our responses are different, our makeup us different... That much I knew, but our body's reaction to withdrawing a medication, even a short term acting one like I'd been on varies immensely as well. From day to day and person to person. I sort of knew that too but it was nice to hear the words.

But he also asked me to describe my symptoms; I'm sure I'm not the only person he's seen who has broken free - and been happy to talk about it -from the bonds of meds. 

He was actually really interested. I mean really.

So I had kind of established he had a sense of humour; my brain mixing words up helped in that regard, and my 'hang on, maybe a better way to describe that would be..' showed he had patience. (Named noted for future doctor-type-stuff-when-my-doctor-is-away reference, of course)

He was looking up the expected symptoms of withdrawal and mentioning them to me, some I had experienced, most not. Some of the symptoms of going onTO the meds were similar to what I was experiencing as well. There is no normal.

I told him the worst symptom by far was brain zaps. That while I wasn't and never have been suicidal, I could more than understand that brain zaps could drive someone over the edge.
That brain zaps had conspired to destroy my confidence my concentration and my sanity.

He looked at me and said 'hang on, what are you talking about? What are brain zaps?'

I feigned shock and said 'brain zaps are a thing you know. A THING. I asked dr google what was wrong with me, and I found brain zaps. So I know they're a thing. Like, everyone mentions them in blogs and boards and stuff.'

He kind of sneakily smiled but I went on.

'Brain zaps are like an electric shock, or a jolt. Like a zap. And they just zap across your brain sometimes five, sometimes ten seconds apart. One time I reckon it was thirty seconds and I hadn't felt one, but then it came back. It can even be a couple minutes apart. But they're there. Taking some omega 3 helps.'

He asked where in the brain, which part is most affected. For me, the zaps come from the sides, either side; no favourites. My brain just kind of un clicks for a macro second as I feel what I can only describe as like a mild electric noise.

I told him that Monday was bad, really really bad. He asked if I was sad, depressed or overwhelmed. I said the only word I could think of to describe it was 'wretched'. Totally wretched. I had had a bit of a cry and a bit of a dummy spit and a lot of angst.
Every day had been a fraction better than the one before. And here 6 days totally drug free I wasn't right but I was better. Better than yesterday which was better than the day before which was better...

Oh and Tuesday wasn't very cool either. A few frustrations wore me down and I wasn't pleasant company for a short while but by Wednesday I could see the funny side of it and today I can see beyond it.
Oh yeah, and the (what feels like) adrenaline surges are hard to take too. Heart racing, words jumbled and stuttered. 

Hmm this wasn't on his list of symptoms.
But he didn't dismiss me as one who has a symptom not fitting into his list, he listened.
And explained the mechanics of the meds I'd been on and how they affected neuro transmitters and why what I was experiencing didn't match what he was reading on the screen but that was okay, also how interesting it was.

Oh that's right, insomnia is a total drag. So not cool. Sleeplessness can be a bummer.

I've apologised a lot lately for snarkiness and absent mindedness. I thought I could just quietly and privately do this coming off prescription meds thing, but noo... People see me react differently and know something's wrong, and I'm too honest. 

And some people are shocked to hear I've been on meds. 

And for how long. 

And some people nod knowingly, telling me that see, I just had to think positively.

He says sometimes people experience symptoms for a few weeks. I told him I'd read experiences of a few months and a few days. There is no normal.

And he said some people's makeup means they just need to be on a low dose of stuff forever. That's something I dealt with a few years back when I made a conscious choice to stay on meds. Before my decision a few months ago to come off them. And I'm okay with that potential outcome.
There is no normal.

And he said sometimes 'giving it a go' coming off meds to see if you're okay and don't need their  support for life is a good plan. And that chances are that if you're positive it's the right move, that maybe it's the right move. 

But that it's equally okay to need to go back.

And that really he had no answers but possibilities and avenues of answers.
And I smiled and thanked him.
Because it's what I expected to hear, and because he was honest.
He didn't sugar coat anything or insist I take any path.
He didn't assure me of any outcomes but welcomed me back next time.

There is no normal.

Medication schmedication.

Here I am in month two of withdrawal.
I took my last half strength dose 48 hours ago. So I'm totally tablet free.
The last 24 hours haven't been pleasant.

Just so you know, this isn't a pity party, nor is it seeking anything for me. I'm documenting for myself and for others who may choose the path of 'no more chemicals in me' as I have.
Know it may not be smooth but it may not be crazy either. Every one is different.

I've had brain zaps (which are just like they sound; like an electric shock into my brain) regularly -
I've had a hyper motivated brain which is even more tightly strung than normal.
I've had leg tingles, where it feels like something is under the skin or something sitting on my muscles.
I've had insomnia.
Like right now, 2am,  when I should be sleeping but can't.
I've had hyper, where I can't talk fast enough or loud enough nor critically enough.
I've had lethargic where I can't be bothered moving.

And that's just 48 hours!

So I did what any preoccupied insomniac does, I used Dr Google to see if I could find a remedy.
Because I'm, like, a busy person and have a full time job and I need to feel well -- who am I kidding, I just want my legs to stop tickling.

And I found horror again.
More people devastated at the lack of withdrawal information or support from doctors, pharmaceutical companies or... Anywhere.
More people even more depressed because they cant see the end of the withdrawal tunnel.
More people with 6+ months of withdrawal symptoms.

What the heck am I doing? Maybe I should just go back and recommit to them for life.

I found one thread in a conversation where someone suggested what I had sitting waiting to use but didn't think worth taking yet... vitamins. This guy swears by omega 3, mega B ... Ooh I have those, so I downed a handful.
--
And now another 12 hours post writing that because I couldn't bear the brain zaps, i am ready to go back on full strength full time, seriously.

I am stuttering because my words aren't coming out as fast as my brain wants them to, I'm constantly zoning in and out because my brain is zapping... And noisy... It's like sand bags that keep shifting noisily in my head and it affects my hearing my concentration and my sanity.

People who I work with who know I'm coming off smile and say "you'll be fine, think positively" how little they know.
I am thinking positively. I'm positive this is the most insane decision I've made in a long long time.
Yes I came in to work, I couldn't have borne staying at home with this.. This zapping and shifting inside my head. 
And it's not every couple of minutes, it's a couple of times a minute but random. 
Gah.