Crisis

It’s very telling about someone’s personality to see how they react when put under stress. Faced with an imminent family reunion where I would be away from home for several days at a semi-secluded lake resort, it was time to make a choice. I could either suffer through cups of regular brewed coffee, perhaps as bad as Folgers or maybe only the slightly less reprehensible Charbucks, or I could take a stand. No, I will not drink that. Not even with sugar and cream. A cat in a hat would die from that crap, and I would prefer to keep my life, clean.

I went to REI and bought a coffee grinder designed for campers. It’s pretty nifty, if a bit slow. Only time will tell how well it performs, but I’ve tried it out a couple of times and it seems to do okay. I’d never want to grind more than enough for one cup at a time, though. I’m packing it along with my Aeropress coffee maker and some Rwanda Karaba from the Stumptown.

Now I’ll have my own source of good coffee (provided I don’t mess up the brew) and my own little routine in the morning. You might consider it the ultimate coffee snobbery. I know one thing for sure, I’m not sharing with anyone. They can swill all of the mediocre, low-quality coffee they want, gallons and gallons, but I’ll be happy with just one good cup in the morning. Okay, maybe a little bit more than that, depending on how tired my arm gets from cranking the fucking grinder!

Psychoanalysis

I think maybe it’s time for a shrink. I suddenly feel like I have all sorts of issues. Not that I’d never considered it, but I never felt like things were out of my control or ability to fix. Maybe it’s no different now, but I’m considering it. There are possibly some issues with my past that might be good to talk about. I sometimes wonder about any effects my childhood might have had on my adult development. You know, Freudian shit. I wouldn’t go to a psychoanalyst, though.

Perhaps there are just other things going on in my life right now that are affecting me. I’ve been drinking a lot since my girlfriend left the country. I told myself that I wouldn’t, but I started the night she left (I think). I thought that it might just be a passing phase, and I would get over it and move on in a week or so. I haven’t. In the past I’ve noticed that drinking affects my mood and the way it swings up and down. You probably don’t have to be a genius to figure that out, but I do a good job of overlooking it most of the time. I decided not to drink tonight in hopes that my head would be more clear tomorrow to think.

Most of my thoughts are centered around the girlfriend who moved away. I’m not going to get into the details, but it has been tough being separated. I feel at turns angry, sad, scared, indifferent and otherwise confused. It’s so hard to know what to do. It feels like all of the decisions I haven’t made until now in my life have to be worked out before I can know. What about school? What about my freedom? There are many questions.

But back to the subject at hand. More than anything, I would like to have someone who I can tell anything to. All my supposed issues; my crackpot theories about why I am the way I am; the most deeply buried feelings and thoughts. I feel like my head is in a fog, and I can’t see my way through to understand my true thoughts and feelings. I only have access to those that run close to the surface, and the current tends to keep that a changing thing. Even if I try to focus on it and really think my way through, in a quiet room, caffeinated, rested, fed, content – my thoughts flit off like swallows with a string and I can’t grab ahold of one no matter how I try. In fact, they fly faster the harder I try. There are probably some good nests built by now.

So if I walked into a therapist’s office right now, I would tell them they only have a few months (at most) to fix me and help me figure out what I’m doing. My girlfriend is planning on visiting in August. I asked her to marry me, so actually she’s my fiancée. We’re not sure what the plan is yet, but we’re tentatively getting married when she visits and I will be moving back with her. I need to be sure that’s okay with me and figure out what to do in another country.

I made the decision to ask her because I felt it was right. Not because I felt pressured or because I was lonely, but because I know I love her and I love being with her. Somehow that all shuts down with her away and me by myself, and it’s almost as if I’ve always been this way. I am good at putting up walls. One of the things I love about being with her is that she unlocks a part of me that is new and I don’t feel like I’ve ever shared with anyone.

She disarms me and accepts me for who I am and what I am. I drove through our old neighborhood tonight and I was thinking about all that we’ve shared together. When I do, I feel pangs of emotion – nostalgia and sadness that she’s not with me now. Quickly those feelings are replaced with the same dull, flat grayness that my head floats in most of the time. Sometimes I try to hang onto the emotion or the thought that generated it, and I try to capitalize on it by letting it make me cry or to probe deeper and try to understand more. It always takes the swallows path away to the bird nest.

What does all of this mean? I can’t tell you right now. If it were another time and I read it all, I might be able to come up with a witty summation and play therapist for myself. But I just put the thoughts on screen through my fingers in a random fashion and . . . couldn’t even figure out how to end this sentence. I veered away from my topic and my intended material, but no matter. I think I’m getting carpal tunnel in my arms, so it’s time to stop typing now. ‘Til our next session on the couch . . .

Suddenly prolific

I felt like writing another post. I don’t know if I will make it all the way through or if it will be coherent. It’s past my bedtime. In fact, I’m already losing it.

I’ve been drinking a lot lately. I’m addicted, in a way. I don’t think I’m really an alcoholic (I know, I know – that’s one of the signs) but I do tend toward excess when I drink, especially alone. And I do it because I’m bored and there’s nothing else to do, or I’m angry and want to punish my body. Sometimes I just don’t want to think or feel, or I’m kind of sad and don’t care about anything. I recognize these are bad things and not good reasons to drink.

My fiancée recently said something in an email or on her blog about staying healthy so we can grow old together. That affected me. In addition, I’ve been thinking about things a lot anyway. I won’t try and go into detail. But I didn’t have anything to drink tonight. It makes me feel good in a way. More grown up, I guess, and sometimes I like being busy and not having time to be by myself and melancholy.

The other thing going on with me is my blood sugar levels have been bad. I’ve had quite a few highs lately, but also a couple of lows. It’s probably due in part to the drinking, staying up late and not being active. I haven’t done any exercise for a while. So earlier today, I shot up (insulin) when I had some late breakfast: two eggs and two peices of toast. Two units of Novolog. About an hour and a half later, my sister called and I started feeling kind of shaky. So I was talking to her and tested my blood sugar. It was below 80, so I ate an apple while we talked and had some Coke, but wasn’t feeling too hot.

Later on, after the phone call, I went to work for a while. I’ve been wanting some Chinese food for a while, so I went to the mall food court and got a combo with some coconut chicken (deep-fried), stir-fried vegetables and noodles. I tested and I was around 109. That’s good. I decided to shoot up and have some of the noodles, plus I knew the coating on the chicken and the sweetness of it would affect my blood sugar. Two units of Novolog.

Only bad thing is, after I pulled the needle out of my skin, it kept dripping insulin. To me, that indicates that it didn’t all get into my system, and I’m never sure how much actually did. I don’t know why it did that. So about two hours later I test, and I’m at 273 or something. That sucks, but confirms that I prolly didn’t get the full dose and maybe I ate too much or underestimated the carb count of what I was eating. Oh well. A few highs here and there aren’t going to kill me (yet); it just makes me lethargic.

So I leave work, talk on the phone a bit, have a gardenburger at home ’cause I’m hungry, sans bun, and take the dogs to the dog park. I talk on the phone some more there, run and play a little bit, and then I leave and stop at the grocery store. I wander the aisles a while until my eyes glaze over and I have about $130 worth of food.  I didn’t even remember to get a few things I wanted. Need to make a stupid list.

I get back home, feed the dogs, take groceries upstairs and decide I’d like to eat something. It’s been a while since my 273 and I’ve been busy, so I don’t think my number will be too high: 190. Higher than I was expecting, for sure. Depressing. Makes me want to have a drink. I rationalize that it makes my blood sugar drop. I decide not to and try to be more adult. I shoot up – two units of Novolog – and eat some food. Not even going to test again. If I come crashing down, I will wake up, but I’m pretty sure I ate plenty and will be fine. Just sucks.

I’ve been taking five units of Lantus every day. That’s one more than I used to, but I thought I needed to bump it up. I might need to more. We’ll see. I don’t have any other point to this post.

Something for later: about education, drive, want I want to do, how I need to keep my head in the right spot to do it, not drinking, etc.

Baby

I’m having a sugar-free mocchacinno pudding right now. How crazy is that? They keep coming up with funky flavors. I’m all for it. I wish there were more things available in sugar-free, but I think it’s coming. Hopefully it’s not just a fad that will go away.

I was thinking about how my relationship with M started today, and it makes me smile. It was illicit and we were like two horny teenagers at times. We snuck around; there would be quick visits at lunch time where I would want to tear her clothes off but couldn’t. It was pretty fucking hot, I have to say. She’s a sexy girl – very desirable. And I still feel that way about her, but it’s evolved. In a good way. We are now engaged to be married. I love her so much and it’s just great.

I have a lot of great memories with her. We have our moments of being down and out, but we are so electric together at other times. Maybe that is the only way it can be so good? I don’t know. What I do know is we have fun, she’s good for me as well as good to me. She makes me be a better person and want to do more, but she also accepts me as I am and takes such good care of me. I could go on and on . . .

So this young blog with it’s sporadic posts (total of five to date) is getting a name change and another makeover. It’s not about terms & conditions because there aren’t going to be any on what shows up here. Be forewarned, this blog can and will be random. It’s me. I won’t define it. Maybe I’ll visit more often if it feels like home.