Dreams and Other Thoughts

I was warned that I might have some oddly-detailed dreams while taking my new anti-shake medicine (propanolol). I shrugged off the advice, because I figured it all came down to what you wanted your mind to do.  Some of those side effects I've heard of in the past were off-the-wall, and I always thought a bit of mind-power can make everything calm down.

Was. I. Wrong.

The first night I took the medicine, I will report that I haven't slept that well in a while! I am not sure if it just made me sleepy, or it calmed down my body. The internal tremor has been getting old, and that's bugged me in the nighttime. I will admit that I had never really woken up in the night and noted symptoms on a chart...

Well, I woke up the next morning and laughed about the idea that I could have strange dreams. I guess I finally gave my mind permission to relax, because the next night was a doozy. My home was being attacked by various arachnids, but they were always lined up in straight lines. They never moved while I was watching them, but their positions often changed. That was probably what scared me more than anything about the dream- I KNEW they were moving, but couldn't prove it. And no one believed me... I am sure the Freudians would probably read something into that detail.

The next night was another detailed dream, where Asian terrorists were attempting to hijack an airlines by smuggling in mangoes that carried explosives. Yes, you read that correctly. I got caught up in the whole deal because I was going to meet someone at Gate O, and someone handed me a mango. Always the wrong place at the wrong time...

There were more, but really until this morning I didn't think of writing them down. Now I think I am going to keep a dream diary, because I'll be sad I didn't record them if I ever go off this medicine. If anything, it provides a little comic relief.

This weekend I was a lot more tired than usual, and a bit shakier as well. I've found there's a strong correlation between the two, but it's funny considering I slept in both mornings.

We took the kids to The Lego Movie, and they were beyond excited. I would have much rather stayed in bed and rested for the day, but I often feel bad when the kids are punished by my illness. So, we headed to the theater, and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Stupid Injury #1 happened in the bathroom. I was trying to maneuver the lock on the handicapped stall, and my hand wasn't coordinated and cooperating. Long story short, Carly watched in horror as I ripped the skin off the top of my hand. It immediately swelled up with a big lump under the skin, turned purple, and started gushing blood. She let out an awesome scream, and the other lady in the bathroom was rather concerned. No sounds came out of my mouth; I just walked out of the stall with big eyes. The manager gave me a band-aid, and I headed back to the movie.

We made it to ice cream after the movie, and ran an errand. Everything was wrapped up for the weekend, and I was feeling prepared to start the week. Enter Stupid Injuries #2 and #3...

Stupid Injury #2 happened while attempting to clean up the bonus room. While picking up remotes, I managed to drop one on the exactly wrong spot on my foot. Now, I am not trying to whine, merely pointing out that the most ridiculous things have been happening. I let out a strange noise and sat down quickly. Carly was in there, and she gave me a puzzled look. 'you doing ok, mom???"

I told her my hands aren't cooperating today, so I was planning on taking it easy for the rest of the night. Alex commented that he was ready for his movie before bed, but wanted me to cut the tag off his new stuffed Chihuahua. Enter Stupid Injury #3...

Yep, you can probably already imagine what happened there. I am guessing that maybe using scissors (even kid ones) isn't a good plan when I am tired anymore, because tired = shaky. I sliced through part of my finger, and the blood started gushing. He looked at me and said "maybe you should just go to bed?"

I told him I give up, and tomorrow's another day... I tried to laugh and kissed him, but the thought occurred to me that maybe I should reevaluate some of the daily activities I've been doing. I really don't want to get another really serious injury from the shakiness and lack of balance. The bone is FINALLY healing from the fracture four months ago. I really don't need Round #2.

This week will be a busy one in my medical life. I go to physical therapy to work on my balance and range of motion, then head to the Hematologist on Tuesday to get the results of my clotting tests (and some advice on how to proceed with a lot of things). Friday (my favorite appt) I get to go to the orthopedic surgeon so he can inject medication directly INTO my knee. Because nothing says Valentine's Day like needles and medications...

I try to remain hopeful that life will work itself out, but sometimes it can be frustrating. I am glad I am moving in the right direction, but it can be disheartening to encounter activities in my daily life that are now a challenge. I am a person that likes the freedom of doing anything she pleases, and of holding her own. The last thing I want to admit is that I can't do everything I want to do anymore. I am happy to hear how many people have offered help, or have told me that we will deal with whatever happens as time goes on. But I guess this mental transition in my head of putting a lot more effort into looking normal- THAT'S what is bugging me more than anything. When you balance enough plates in the air, eventually they all come crashing down.

A goal for this week is looking into the voice-assisted technology program, like Dragon Naturally Speaking. I love writing, and I especially like documenting this journey. It makes me sad to fix these passages over and over again, and see that my once-lightning-speed typing is now at least half speed.  Still faster than those that have to hunt and peck, but not what I once was. I am hoping the idea of transcribing will keep the ideas flowing without the frustration of having to type. Expect much longer passages at that point... :-)

From a tiny seed...

Carly and I were riding around the Puyallup, WA area, and she was remarking how big the trees were in the area. This was true- the fantastically gigantic evergreens looked like they soared up to the sky.  She asked where trees like that came from, and my response was:

"No matter how big the tree, each tree comes from a tiny little seed. Somewhere along the way, this tiny little seed was buried, nurtured, and given the space to grow, and a gigantic tree came forth."

To which she responded: "how on Earth does that happen?"

Me: "Potential.  There's an amazing amount of potential in a tiny little seed. We all have the capacity for greatness already within us. And the capacity for a tree so great starts out in a tiny little seed."


I enjoy moments like that, when it seems I am having such an existential discussion with my daughter, and when I can glean some wisdom from it as well.

Lately, I've been struggling with my purpose. More specifically, I've been looking at how I can fulfill my purpose while maintaining my roles that I fill in my everyday life.  This has honestly taken a lot of introspection, a lot of thought about what makes me tick and what makes me thrive, and the decision that I don't want to live in a fog. I want to experience the world around me, and feel that I am leading a balanced life.

This means I took a look back to my roots, and examined how I came into the career of teaching special education. I'm not going to lie: when I was in college, I wanted nothing more than to write books about social issues, about groups of people and grand experiments.  I was making so many observations about the human condition, and I wanted to write something that would inspire great change.

But then I had to be an adult, and someone had to support the family while my ex finished school and went on to grad school. So, teaching was a logical choice, and special education had the greatest need.

Don't get me wrong; I love working with the students that I have in school.  The stress level is often more than I can handle while still being healthy, but I do it because I care deeply for those children. Still, I know that given the choice, my heart is in writing and researching and exploring the world around me. I love talking with people from all walks of life, and I know there is so much wisdom in my interactions with random people.

So, while thinking about all of these things, I thought about my potential. I knew I was intelligent in school, and it seemed that I could do pretty much anything I wanted to in life. But I underestimated my potential; somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I wasn't good enough to be a scientist, engineer, or social researcher.  Somewhere along the way I decided that my dream needed to take a back seat to practicality.  There aren't a lot of things I regret in life, but this is one of them. I wish that I had believed in myself enough.

Of course, that could have changed the rest of my past. I know that one decision can affect so many things, and I don't want to undo all of the good that came along with these decisions. I guess at this point, all I can do is acknowledge this dream, and try to make it a reality.

From the tiny seed of my spirit can come great things. With the nurturing soil of my mind and the light from my optimistic and loving heart, I am sure to blossom. Thirty-one years old is not too old to decide that I am still destined for greatness.