Monday, June 21, 2021
Oh, boy, what a night. The early part of the night went fine. I fell asleep easily and slept deeply. I can and do sleep well. Then I woke in the middle of the night. I didn't check the time. I brooded about a comment someone made yesterday. I tormented myself. I have become so sensitive. That sensitivity leads to ever-increasing degrees of isolation. I was almost paranoid last night. My first thought was that I was becoming just like my mother, suspicious of everyone's intentions. I felt pretty off the rails. I thought I might need psychiatric help. I finally wrapped myself in the plush fleece blanket the dialysis center gave Mike. I calmed down and fell asleep when I put it against my skin.
Then on my walk this morning, I ran into MaryAnn with her dogs, Razor and Chloe. MaryAnn's husband died within the last few years too. I told her I was doing badly. She assured me that my feelings were normal, including the paranoia. She said it is a side effect of loneliness. I tend to be hypersensitive in response to certain behaviors. When someone is arrogant, hypercritical, or suggests something is 'wrong with me, if I don't agree with them about something, I don't do well. I suppose no one likes it. It's hard to know if I am worse than most people or just less willing or less able to put up with it. Experience has taught me setting a limit on people's behavior can have good results.
I always adored my mom and wanted a good relationship with her. I struggled with her and against her to achieve this. After Mike and I got together, I was finally prepared to give up. I wrote her a letter telling her I had been afraid of her all my life. I had tried everything to calm myself; now, I would try having nothing to do with her. That letter went out in August. In November, she called me. She said, "I'm getting old. I forgive you. We can see each other again." Anyone see a problem here? I told her I wasn't ready. I responded calmly; I didn't yell. A year later, a relative called to ask if I would come to her house for Thanksgiving; my mom would be there. It felt very sad. I greeted this woman I had known all my life as a stranger. I didn't hold out much hope of it ever getting better. But it did. It wouldn't have gotten better if I hadn't made a stand.
Besides not speaking to her for over a year, I set a limit for her negative behavior in my mind. She could only dish out three criticisms per visit. I would make excuses and leave if it was more than that. I would come back again. Miraculously she never violated my rule of three. My mom spent the last eighteen years of her life living in the mother-in-law extension of my house with Mike and me. Somewhere during that time, she brought up that letter I sent her. She said how much it hurt her. She never acknowledged or even understood that our current relationship would have been impossible if I had never taken that action.
But back to my being in the wrong, being too sensitive. I have no idea. Mike violated some rules I had in my head, but the positive and negative ratio was overwhelmingly on the plus side. People who study marriages talk about the 5 to 1 ratio, the Magic Relationship Ratio. For the relationship to survive, there must be a minimum of five positive exchanges (I wonder if neutral counts too). I think there aren't just numbers involved; quality of interaction has to count too. Mike's positives were huge for me. On a rate of 1 to 10, they were a 10. Some of his negatives were just funny. He always insisted that I give him the car keys when we went someplace. This interaction didn't feel demeaning. It was just a craziness on his part; however, if I had made the same demand on him, oh, boy! It wasn't a bit of silliness for him. That was okay. His needs were different from mine.
When we were first together, he frequently made arrogant comments, putting other people down for one thing or another. He insisted that he was just expressing his point of view. It took me years to find the right words to get him to stop. I said, "Your opinion is that you don't like it. You don't have to put it or the people who feel differently down." He finally got it; he stopped on a dime. That arrogance was a biggy for me. But it wasn't big enough to overwhelm the good stuff. The good stuff was tremendous. He was my main human. I miss him.
I had a Zoom meeting with K's twins. I'm still working on the same material, learning the letters of their names and blending the words bat, cat, fat, hat, mat, and pat. E is still learning the letters in her name; she is particularly struggling with one of them. The other three seem to be coming more easily. Today, I watched her 'practice,' the one letter in her name she was still having a problem with on her own. I watched her visualize the letter and repeat the name. Neurologically, she was laying down another layer of nerve connection with each repetition. I thought she did well enough today to introduce another letter. I wrote her twin sister's name. There is only one letter difference between the two. (Naming twins with almost identical names is a cultural tradition.) I asked her if she wanted to learn another one today. She said no. Wonderful! She is developing metacognitive skills. She is becoming an agent of her learning.
At 11 am, I had my reading support office hours. The problems are the same each time. Students have word recognition skills. Some people are open to what I have to say; others harken back to what they're doing already, even though they know it hasn't been working. I can't blame them.
The Phonics Discovery System audio file was posted on YouTube the other day. So far, three people have viewed it. I would imagine anyone who doesn't know me will think this is a waste of time. At least it will be available for my students.
At 12:45, I headed into town. My first stop was the town dump to get rid of the cardboard in the back of the car. I have a collection of boxes for mailing Mike's library books to seminaries. I first started collecting product boxes, almond milk, and vinegar. Those boxes have print announcing their product on the outside. To use them for posting the books, I had to cover them with paper. I lost one package that way when the paper ripped, and the address was lost in the process. In the meantime, I have been collecting Amazon boxes. Perfect! I folded all the product boxes and got rid of them. The library looks so much better.
While at the dump, I stopped at the second-hand store there. Yes, there is a second-hand store right at the dump. I assume it earns money for something, but I don't know what it is. The other day, I checked to see if they took ceiling fans and rugs with holes in them. No, to both of those. But they do take CDs. I have a mere 1,000 I will never listen to. My husband was a hoarder. He never listened to them either. They were ready to take all 1,000 right then and there. First, I didn't have them with me. Second, it will be very painful to have those shelves bare. I'm a third-year griever. It has hit hard, very hard.
Kaiser was one light down the road from the dump. I had an appointment with the plastic surgeon for my Botox shots. I had checked in online and wasn't in a hurry. I was surprised to find the gatekeepers gone as I entered Kaiser. There used to be a team to check temp, ask those routine questions about exposure, and instruct us to apply hand sanitizer. They weren't there. What a shock!
I went to the desk to check in. I showed them the barcode on my phone, testifying to my precheck-in. I had to go to the machine and flash the barcode there. I needed help. Where was I supposed to put my phone? I was unsuccessful after multiple attempts. The receptionist came out from behind her desk to help me. I was holding the phone too close to the scanner.
There was one lone woman in the waiting area. Kaiser must still be limiting the number of people who can be there at one time. The procedure was easy. The doctor was great. I asked if it was going to hurt. The doctor said there would be a pinch, but he would distract me by massaging the flesh around the area. The Botox shots went into the tissues in the temple area. I thought they would go into the forehead above the eyes and between the eyes. I thought he told me that those were the muscles that caused the brow to droop, interfering with my vision.
I asked him if there were any post-procedure instructions. I shouldn't put my face in a massage table face cradle. One client did that, and the Botox got moved around. I had to wait one or two days before I did that. He said it would take a few days to have the full effect. They gave me an appointment for October for my next treatment. This treatment is all on Kaiser's dime. It is a medical procedure because the drooping brow obscures my vision. Lovely. There is also a possibility a more relaxed brow will eliminate the pressure I feel on that side of my head.
I have noticed a growing problem with my right foot. It became full-blown today. I recognized that problem: Morton's neuroma. I've had it before. It's a bitch. A nerve gets pinched between my metatarsals. The nerve swells and a sheath grows over it to protect the nerve. It feels like a large pebble in my shoe at all times. It was a concern. I need to keep walking.
I's mom texted me to cancel for the rest of the summer. I. was going to summer school. Her mother heard it was an intense experience. I's third-grade teacher recommended summer school for her. Her reading level came up and was good. Her main complaint has been I. didn't speak enough. As I worked with I. on the cowriting activity, I discovered she doesn't have the verbal expression skills she needs. It is hard to know if she is shy because she doesn't express her ideas well or doesn't express her thoughts well because she was too shy to have gotten the experience she needs. When I told my sister that I. was the youngest of seven children, she said, "Oh. She hasn't learned to express herself because she did not need to. Her older siblings anticipated her every need." I told the mom that I was concerned that summer school would not address my real needs. They were just going to give her more of the same. I recommended that she continue working with me on the writing at least once a week. Mom tried to call me once, but that's it. I have no idea what is going on.
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