New Project?

For years I've wanted to write a novel or a memoir about my paternal grandfather's family. It will be on some weighty subjects - suicide, mental illness, etc. - and the time has never felt quite right to tackle it. A few months ago, I wrote an entire outline of sorts, but didn't do much more since graduate school took precedence.

Today at our work lunch, my boss asked me what book I planned to write next. I'm already working on my next novel, but I don't have a nonfiction project lined up. Except...maybe I do. Maybe it's time to write this memoir.

I thought fictionalizing it might be the way to go, but the more I ponder the stories I want to tell, the more I realize it needs to be raw and real: it needs to be in my voice, and it needs to be about my life and the lives of my family.

My great-grandparents came to America from Italy in 1908. They had nine children - and two of those children died by suicide. My great-grandmother also died by suicide. That is three from one family. Not only is that unusual, it is absolutely tragic. 

I've struggled with mental illness since high school, and have been on antidepressants since college. Others in my family have also dealt with it. I'm absolutely certain my great-grandmother suffered from mental illness, perhaps as a result of untreated post-partum depression, or grief from losing two babies, or adjusting to life in a new country. I don't know the answers, but I feel like I desperately need to find out.

My great-grandparents bought a farm in 1921 and my brother is now the fourth generation to farm it. I grew up in the same house my great-grandparents in which my great-grandparents and grandparents lived. Memories have burrowed into the very foundations of that house, and there's a deep sadness inextricably tied to the land itself. When my boyfriend first came home with me to visit, he immediately sensed it. Energy, both negative and positive, emanates from the place. 

I've always felt a very special bond with this side of the family. Our lives intersected with them far more than it did my mom's family, or even my grandmother's. Italians tend to be close-knit, and boy, did we ever fit the bill. My dad grew up with his cousins - they were his best friends - and my great-uncles farmed land right beside each other. I grew up visiting great aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc., and I spent so much time with my grandparents that I feel as though they were my second parents.

Pietro and Domenica Amateis with their son, John

But something lurks in the bones of this family, and I want...no, I need to find out what it is. I want to break this stigma surrounding mental illness in our family, bring it out into the open, and make it safer for the next generation to reach out for help if they feel it necessary. I have my mother to thank for setting such a wonderful example for me - when she went through a major depression, she found help with a therapist and medication, which meant when I endured the same struggle, I had a role model and a roadmap for help. My daughter also struggles with depression and anxiety, and you bet she's been to see therapists and also takes meds. I am determined not to let mental illness lurk in the darkness.

Ideally, I'd like to go to Italy, visit the "old country," so to speak, and see what I could discover. What were conditions like in that part of the country when my great-grandparents decided to leave? Family lore and mystery surround my great-grandparents, and I don't know what is true and what is not. Maybe I never will. But I must try
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Sugar Cookies!

 Even though there are lots and lots of Christmas goodies to make, I usually only stick with one: sugar cookies. I use one of my Mom's recipes and it yields quite a few cookies.

I haven't made these the last few years. Last December I traveled to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota where I was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia. I had little energy to dedicate to making cookies or much of anything else that month. 

This year I hesitated about making them. Did I have enough energy? And if I did have the energy, would I crash the next day?

Well. I had enough energy today - and I guess tomorrow we'll see if I crash or not. I hope not because I have a Christmas lunch with my coworkers that I'd really like to attend. 

I know I could make a simpler treat. Cut-out sugar cookies take a lot of work. Rolling out the dough, cutting the shapes, baking them, then frosting them. I make homemade buttercream frosting, so that's another added step. 

But to me, there's something wonderfully nostalgic about sitting in front of the Christmas tree late at night, after everyone is in bed, and munching on a sugar cookie with a mug of cold milk. I think that stems from my childhood Christmases. Mom always made a lot of yummy holiday treats, including sugar cookies. 

From start to finish, it took me four hours to complete these cookies. They turned out great!

Embrace the Good Days

I'm an introvert, and thus, I need time to myself to recharge. 

Thankfully, I've had that time over the past few days, and it has been glorious. 

Setting the mood!

My boyfriend went ice fishing with his best friend, and my daughter has been working quite a bit (retail during the holidays is a tough slog). I've had the house to myself - plus the pets, of course - and have taken the opportunity to just revel in my alone time.

I put on my vintage Christmas records and danced in front of the Christmas tree (Blitz stared at me in astonishment). I watched several Christmas movies while eating some Christmas goodies. I read a few books. I did some research for my novel. I wrote. And I actually felt good enough to exercise. I jumped on the treadmill Saturday night, and yesterday afternoon the weather allowed me to take a nice, long walk.

When you're chronically ill, good days must be cherished for they are, indeed precious moments, and we never know how long they'll last.

Now if I could just get some snow...

Be Kind!

The boyfriend and his best friend decided to go ice fishing out of town for a few days, which means I have some free time. I needed it. I'm an introvert, so naturally, it's imperative I have time to myself to recharge. 

But Friday night I decided to escape the house for awhile and head over to Barnes and Noble for a bit of Christmas shopping and book browsing. I managed to find a couple of items, and stepped into the checkout line. The cashier was helping a customer who appeared to be buying books for her school, or something else that led to a complicated purchase on the register. The line behind me grew and only one more cashier appeared to help out.

And then the grumbling started. One man kept making rude comments about the customer who just wasn't hurrying fast enough for him, while a woman actually said something rather rude to the cashier. I was appalled.

So, being the passive aggressive person I can be sometimes when my goat is up, when it was my turn to go to the cashier who'd had to deal with the previous complicated customer, I said, rather loudly, "Wow, you have a lot of grumpy people in line. You'd think they'd be more understanding and have more patience around the holidays."

The cashier agreed with me, and then I said again, loudly, "I think every person should work retail during the holidays at least once in their life so they know what it feels like. It's hard. And you're doing a great job. Hang in there!"

I completed my purchase and didn't even bother to turn around to see if my words made an impact or not. I don't care. What I really should have done is just turn around to face the cranky customers and told them straight to their faces how they were being giant jackwads. 

I've worked retail during the holidays, and it is tough. Tempers are frayed and the people that most generally receive the brunt of this are the cashiers or employees just trying to help out customers. My daughter works retail and came home in tears tonight because a customer had yelled at her because the coupon they had was expired, and thus, my daughter couldn't accept it. 

As a society, why do we act like this? Several reasons, I suppose, and I know that I've been guilty of being a snot to an employee who doesn't deserve it. 

We all need to show more kindness to each other over the holiday season, and hell, we need to show more kindness to each other every single day of the year. There's too much hate and anger and hurt in the world as it is.

So. This is also a reminder to myself to be kind and show more understanding to my fellow human beings. Join me!

Exercise and Me

I've never liked to exercise. During childhood summers, my brothers would try and convince me to come outside and play baseball or basketball or some other sport. I would accept occasionally, but I much preferred to stay in the comfort of the air-conditioned house on my bed reading a book. 

We had P.E. class at school, and I didn't enjoy that, either. I played volleyball in middle school and decided to try out for track. We spent the entire first day running around the gym and I promptly quit.

I loved playing tennis in college, but after college and marriage and motherhood...well, I just didn't like exercising. I went to Curves for awhile, then quit because of cost, and would walk when possible. But I didn't make it a habit.

Once I did start making it a habit, however, I discovered how much my body craved movement - as long as it was the type of movement I enjoyed. Don't try and get me to run a marathon because I will absolutely say NO WAY. Don't try and get me to do one of boot camps where you pick up tires and logs and ridiculous things like that. Not only can't I do it, I don't want to.

But walking? Oh yes. I absolutely love walking. I started making it a daily habit about a year ago when my doctor at the Mayo Clinic said it was beneficial for my chronic illnesses. My boyfriend and I love to take long nature walks and when I can't go outside, I jump on my treadmill.

That's why the last two weeks were so hard for me physically and emotionally. If I'm feeling pent up anger or depression or something, going out and taking a walk will dramatically improve my mood. When I'm on the treadmill, I listen to music. Either way, it's a win-win situation. But when I'm sick? Exercise gets shoved to the back burner because it can make me feel worse. And my body misses it, leading me to feel anxious and frustrated. 

Tonight I finally felt well enough to jump on the treadmill. I created a playlist on Spotify - a mixture of grunge, 80s and 90s pop, and hard rock - and just walk, walk, walk. I only did 35 minutes, but after being sick for two weeks, that's fantastic! (Gotta celebrate the small wins) My boyfriend and I usually try and walk for an hour, but that all depends on my health. Even if I can get in 20 minutes, it helps me feel better.

No, I'm not going to have a six-pack just by walking nor will I kill myself trying to get one (in this instance, I literally would be killing myself to try and get a sick-pack ab due to the stress that type of high-impact exercise would put on my body). I've made peace with that. 

I use my walking time to think, to look at nature, or to enjoy my music. Many a time I've taken a walk and figured out a plot point, or written the beginning to a class paper. 

Walking is essential for my well-being - and it's essential to my life as a writer.

Setting the Mood

 Do you start your writing sessions by setting the mood? Do you need to light a candle, have a cup of coffee or a soda nearby, maybe some chocolate to munch on? For me, it depends. Lately, I've been reading inspirational blog posts or articles about writing, or I immerse myself in the world of books (Lit Hub is one of my favorite book newsletters) before a writing session.

Sometimes I write in silence, others times with music. Often I'll write with a classic movie playing in the background. The music changes - instrumental one night, big band or Frank Sinatra another. Movie scores are wonderful for writing - very atmospheric and energizing. 

A few times I'm able to just dive right into the manuscript, but I find I do better overall if I prepare myself a bit first. Immersing myself in the writing world means I'm focusing my brain on the task at hand. These little rituals signal my mind that it is time to write.

What about you? 

Triggers and Trauma

Slick has decided to become part of the decor.

Today I endured a stressful event.

Now, be forewarned - this event really wasn't that big of a deal. More of a nuisance than anything.

I had an appointment with my neurologist today in Omaha for Botox shots for my migraines. He has two offices, and since I missed my appointment last week at the office I usually go to, I had to go to the other one in the heart of Omaha. 

I whipped into the parking lot about 10 minutes before my appointment, congratulating myself for managing to get myself out of the house and down Interstate 80 in good time. But when the elevator door dinged open and I walked into the office, a sign sat on an empty desk. The office had moved, and the sign gave me an address: 133rd and Dodge.

Well. I do not live in Omaha. I am not familiar with the city at all, and when I looked up my neurologist's name on the mighty Google, it had the old address. To add insult to injury, when I called them, they had a new phone number. So here I am, trying to call the new phone number while also trying to figure out how to get to this mysterious 133rd and Dodge address. 

Long story short...I finally made it to the new office 30 minutes late and my amazing neurologist was still able to give me my Botox injections.

But I did not handle the situation well at all. I completely lost it. I drove like a maniac, swearing and yelling, my body growing hot and sweaty with stress and tension and anger.

After I made it home and the adrenaline rush began to face, I realized that this was not the first time I've completely lost it over something that really isn't that big of a deal.

Do you know why?

Because of my marriage.

Because for 18 years, I prided myself on handling stress like a pro. And there was STRESS, my friends. SO MUCH STRESS. (Yes, I realize I'm using all CAPS but believe me, the stress...dear god, the stress.) For 18 years with my husband, I endured police visits, outbursts of crazy, bizarre behavior (chasing after cars who cut us off was normal for him), frequent firings (he was fired 3 times, I think?) and so, so many other things. 

I handled the stress well because I had to handle it well. I had to be the sane one, the calm one, to keep my children safe, to keep myself safe, to keep the household running, to keep paying the bills. So I didn't come unglued when the next event came around the bend because I was used to it - and because I couldn't lose my crap. There had to be at least one adult who kept it together.

After the divorce, I worked through a lot of these issues. I realized I'd been stuck in the trauma bond and the cycle of abuse,  and also learned why I reacted the way I did.

What I didn't understand then, though, was how my brain would interpret stressful situations after I did all that healing and work. After I learned more about my chronic illness diagnoses and how my brain was stuck in the fight or flight mode, it all began to make sense. 

 Now, little things will set me off when they wouldn't even faze me before. My brain is trying to figure out what the appropriate response is for stressful situations, and it is over-compensating because it is free to do so. 

Unfortunately, having that rush of adrenaline after these outbursts leaves me shaky and exhausted. When I came home tonight, I just wanted to sit on my recliner and do nothing. This is part of how my body developed these illnesses in the first place! So, the next step is to learn how to deal with stress in a healthy manner that will not cause harm to me emotionally or physically.

It is disappointing to realize that after I went through 18 years of stress, then another five of learning, healing, and processing, that the trauma has not left. I am still dealing with the aftereffects of my marriage. 

It is what it is. 

Our work is never done. We must constantly evolve, change, grow, and learn.

The Tree Is Up!

Today, I finally felt good enough - and energetic enough - to put up the Christmas tree. I asked my boyfriend if he'd help me, and bless his heart, he did a terrific job. He put all the lights on the tree (he has a special technique and I just left him to it!) and helped me fluff the branches. Turned out I needed more lights, so off to the store we went.

I spent the rest of the evening decorating the living room, and I really love how it turned out. When I was a child, my mother had a Reader's Digest Christmas collection of records, and she gave it to me several years ago. See that vintage-looking stereo in the picture above? It has a record player. The sole reason I have that record player, and not just a cool vintage radio, is because of those Christmas records! It's just not Christmas without them!

And see that candle? I started collecting vintage Christmas decorations about 6 or 7 years ago, and I like to pair vintage with more modern pieces. My grandmother gave me several of her vintage Christmas decorations (like this candle!) before she passed, and I always incorporate them into my decorating. In addition, you can see the tree skirt she crocheted and also gifted it to me.  

I almost didn't put everything up this afternoon, but had a "f*&* it" moment and decided to just go for it. I'm so glad I did. 

However...I anticipate I will wake up in pain tomorrow because I overdid it. When will I learn? Sigh. Oh well.

Tonight, as a treat to myself, I ate some almond-bark covered pretzels (SO GOOD) and watched a classic Christmas movie, Remember the Night, with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray. It's a warm-hearted, wonderful film. Surrounded by beautiful colored lights and my grandmother's vintage decorations, I felt at peace. 

I sorely needed it.

Overall, it was a Very Good Day. 

Mood: Indigo

My mood is all over the place lately. Depressed one moment, sort of happy the next, then just...blah. 

Is it this time of year? Is it being sick for a week with strep throat, and then a flare? Is it not being able to take my daily walks? Maybe. I haven't found much Christmas spirit, either, and I have a living room stuffed with boxes of Christmas decorations. When I look at them, I don't feel joy - only this feeling of "ugh, I have to put these up, and then take them down again." I've decided to put up the tree, but I may not do some of the other items. I put up my small Snoopy Christmas tree in my bedroom but the big tree...gah. I have to wrangle with the lights, mess with the fake branches so that they fan out and lay correctly, and I just don't wanna. There's nothing saying I have to, of course, but I know that if I don't do it, I'll regret it. I do love having a Christmas tree in my living room with all the cornucopia of ornaments: childhood ornaments given to me by my grandparents and parents, or those I made in school, my daughter's ornaments from her childhood, ornaments we've bought on our travels, my vintage ornaments, etc. But the very act of putting up the tree is hampering me. Maybe I could convince the boyfriend to do all the heavy lifting and I could just decorate it! That's a thought...

But I digress.

All my life I've struggled with depression and mood swings. I'm on antidepressants which certainly help to keep me from falling into that black pit of despair, but I do wish I could maintain a good, consistent mood. I think too much, worry too much, and then worry that I'm thinking too much and worrying too much!

Sigh.

Writing helps, which is why I'm blogging at 11:30 p.m. I feel off at the moment, and working through those emotions might be just the thing I need. I want to work on my novel tonight (I had a spectacular writing session last night!) but would like to banish these dark thoughts first.

You know what sounds really good? A frosted sugar cookie and a glass of milk. Except I do not have any frosted sugar cookies. Usually I'll make sugar cookies for Christmas, but I didn't last year because I was dealing with health issues for the entirety of December. And now I'm so worried about gaining weight that I don't want to make them...yet I know I would enjoy it. 

Sometimes I don't have enough variety in my life. I read, I write, I watch classic movies, I do puzzles...but I miss baking cookies and little things like that. Of course, I don't have the energy to do a lot of that anymore. Chronic illness has robbed me of that.

I realize there's really no point to these last few posts of mine...just a lot of rambling. And that's okay. This is my space to do with as I please.

Here's hoping for energy and desire to put up the Christmas tree this week and maybe, maybe even make some cookies!

                 This was my Christmas tree waaaaay back in 2008 when I lived in an apartment. I loved it!

Spoke Too Soon

Hear that maniacal laughter? That's me after thinking I was back to 'normal' on Thursday. I woke up Friday and could barely move. Everything hurt. Yep, another flare decided to invade my body, and I ended up sleeping most of the day.

When I woke up, I didn't feel any better. I ate some lunch, took a pain pill, and stayed in bed. I was so, so FRUSTRATED. I had all these plans to go outside and take a walk, spend some quality time with my boyfriend, and enjoy the day, and here I was, stuck in bed again.

But we had a nice evening anyway. My boyfriend built a fire in our downstairs den, I worked on my puzzle, and we watched a few movies. And even though I slept so much, I was still exhausted and I went to bed at a reasonable hour (for me). I didn't get any writing done on the novel which annoyed me, but sometimes, you have to just listen to your body and stop trying to push, push, push.

Today is a tiny bit better, but not much. I was determined to get out of the house, so my boyfriend drove me around to do some errands. I returned all the books I'd borrowed from my university library, then we headed off to buy some Christmas lights, a new chew toy for Blitz, and a few other odds and ends.

Now I'm back in my recliner, watching Turner Classic Movies, because it just makes my life easier. I'm planning to work on the novel later. I'm at a really fun - but tricky - part and I need to carefully work my way through it. 

I still haven't done anymore decorating for  Christmas - it's such a big job and I don't have the energy for it. I doubt I'll put everything up this year - but we'll see. If I have a good health day, I just might be motivated to put some Christmas cheer into my home!

Back to Normal...For Now

The antibiotics did the trick, thank goodness, and the fiery sore throat has eased considerably. A ticklish, slightly sore remnant reminds me of the hell I went through for three days, and here's hoping I don't experience it again any time soon, if ever.

I still took it easy today - no walking on the treadmill - but I did tidy up my bedroom - washed the bedding, took out the trash, dusted, and vacuumed. The atmosphere feels much better, as though I've swept away the icky germs. 

I'm planning to work on my novel tonight (my creativity usually kicks in after 10 p.m.) and here's hoping I'll continue to feel better tomorrow. I need to get out of the house, for one, and two, I'd like to take a walk on what looks to be the last warm day we'll have for awhile. 

Of course, as a chronically ill person, my normal is quite different from other people's normal. I always have pain or discomfort, always have symptoms. Some days are worse than others, but anytime I feel halfway decent, I'll take it!

In other news, my professor already returned the first draft of my paper and I'll only need to make minor changes to it. Tremendous news, indeed! It shouldn't take me long to edit, and then, it's time to focus solely on the novel. 

I have a new desk arriving next week. If I'm going to be doing a lot of writing, I need to make sure I'm doing it in a healthy way. Therefore, I'm going back to an ergonomic keyboard and now have a comfy desk chair. I'll still have times when I write on my laptop while reclining in bed, of course, but I want to have some options.

Tomorrow is Friday. Huzzah!