po- po- po- poker face

Dallas zoo. I got a little sad about the elephant, I'm not sure why, so I didn't put up her photo. But I did pray for her; what kind of flakey weirdo am I? Sometimes, I think someday I'll go back to working at a zoo. I love what they do for animal conservation. You know, the reason quit was because I suspected I might be "more PETA* than AZA." The whole animals in cages thing; I get a little emotional about it sometimes, especially with chimpanzees. You know what, though, Jane Goodall says zoos might be the best hope for animals across the world. Jane Goodall. I think I'd like to maybe be an education curator some day.

My mom is coming to town on Mother's Day weekend. B is going to visit his mom, who we are keeping in our prayers, because she's going through her 2nd round of chemo for NH lymphoma. We're flying my mom in to keep me company, since the whole cluster headache thing is new and being on the medicine for it makes me about as smart as that guy I dated who said low carb beer was a bad idea because why would you drink beer with no fizz (a walking after school special for why not to do shrooms all day, every day, duuuude.)-- and because I like my mom.

So, I've been laying around a lot, I suspect from toomah fatigue. Sooooooo tired. Usually, I am accepting of that; today, not so much. IIn lieu of perspective I present to you The Song A Day Guy!!, one of the unsung perks of rarely moving + clunking around on the internet far more than is healthy. This guy is SO funny, man. He writes a song a day. Check out the Paul Krugman song. Bwaahaaaahaaa.

In other news, tonight I stay up until midnight. Eeek! I haven't been that cool in awhile. I have to chew on this thing at midnight and then take it to a lab to see if toomah is making cortisol. All before my economy car turns into a pumpkin.

And tomorrow, I actually am going to be cool, because I have tickets to see Fleetwood Mac! I don't think I've ever longed to see any band more or watched any band's concert dvd more than Fleetwood Mac. I went to see them once, but I was a mere fetus!

*I'm not in PETA, so you can put your hateraid down (okay, I just wanted to say hateraid).

I used to be, though, and I probably will again.

They actually do a lot for the environment and for animal welfare in general; I'm sorry

that some of them can be scary or threw paint on your coat.

Go ahead and eat your steak;

I'm not judging.

It was about to rain.

Pretties.  I almost cut these down because they are ugly in the winter, but then they turned out to be one of the prettiest little plants we have!

Big snail + garage door.

Where the hell are my keys?

snail + chrysanthemum stems

rain drops + fuzzy plant

It's raining, it's pouring, it's all relative.

evergreen + rain drops

leaf +  grasping

It's all relative.  Is it a good day? A bad day? I feel...depressed? But I don't know if I would call it that, because I know everything is going to be fine.  Better than fine.  I know this is important for me, this experience.  One part of me is actually grateful for the challenges, knowing my job is to let go and float down stream, follow my bliss, see where I go.  On some other level, I just feel...tired.  And not just toomah tired, but some kind of emotional hangover of sorts.  I feel like my vulnerabilities have been exposed, like the ground I stand on is shaky.  And intellectually, I know that's okay and even good...but I'm having a hard time moving, because I just feel a little, I guess, beat down?  It just is what it is.

I'm not at work.  I'm working out things that make part of me sad, like setting up what to do if I need to take a leave of absence (which is heart breaking to me!), going to the doctor, making more appointments, figuring out how to get my insurance company back on my good side, and catching up on a lot of the work-related things I simply did not do last week when I was in my pharmaceutical daze.

This moment is the perfect teacher.  This moment is the perfect teacher.  This moments is the...

trash water fall + upgrade to class I rapid

The one in which she professes miracles.

fruit-salad + eggs with sweet potatoes + coffee.

Seriously. Baby Jesus? Genie?

How, how, how, after FOUR weeks of predictable debilitating headaches, do I not have one right now? And did not have one last night? (And last night would have been the debilitating one...the morning/afternoon ones are like a light migraine; the night one, I cannot describe.)

EXACTLY at the point in which I honestly felt like I had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO.

These things go in cycles, and I am thinking my "cycle" might be over. I am in disbelief over the timing.

Sometimes I wonder if all this is happening because I keep saying I want to grow personally, spiritually...It's like one gut check after another. I really and truly do wonder this.

I'm headed off to the zoo, medication-free, which means I'll have real actual emotions and be more of a person than a zombie!!

WOW!

The one that is ironic.

How's that for ironic.  Right after all of my whining and admitting defeat, this is my first night in WEEKS (I'm thinking 4) that I have not had a headache right on schedule, starting at around 5:30- 5:45.  I started to get it.  I drank a lot of water and some caffeine.  I took no medicine; it's gone.  I just can't believe it.  I had been starting to get a little afraid, too, because of how they had been gaining in intensity.  I am terrified of having attacks like what I've head about; who wouldn't be?!

Anyways, now I'm wondering:  Is the cycle over?  

A cluster headache is one of the most painful types of headache. A striking feature of cluster headache is that the attacks occur in cyclical patterns, or clusters — which gives the condition its name.

Bouts of frequent attacks — known as cluster periods — may last from weeks to months, usually followed by remission periods when the headache attacks stop completely. The pattern varies from one person to another, but most people have one or two cluster periods a year. During remission, no headaches occur for months, and sometimes even years.

From Mayo Clinic Website

The one in which she is resentful.

This morning:

Me to me: This moment is the perfect teacher. This whole cluster headache thing and toomah thing, it's good for your soul. Thank the universe for reminding you that there is not real ground in this world, that everything in it and all the perceived "ground" is impermanent. Pain is inevitable. Suffering comes when we resist.

Me back to me: You're right, me. Everything is perfect just the way it is; this is exactly where I am supposed to be and exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. Do you want to light the campfire, or should I? Kumbaya, my...

Later today, B calls Walgreen's to get my prescription filled. I tend to need 3 to 4 pills a day to be functional, which ends up costing about $20/day; Yes, that's a lot for us!:

B to me: Did you hear me talking to Walgreen's? Your insurance will only approve 9 pills every 28 days. It's $230 for 9 pills. (About $100 a day)

Me to myself: Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

So the gist is this: Things just keep undoing more and more. Overall, I've gained some kind of inner spiritual-ish strength with each little piece of ground that disappears, but every now and then I want to throw a tantrum. So here it goes.

I have to admit that I can't complain too much about the tumor. I am afraid of the surgery (if it even needs to happen--we could still luck out with meds, people, or even watch and wait if it's not the big causal thing happening), because, really, I'm just like that. I'm actually more secretly afraid of the procedure that's often done before the surgery, in which they take a little balloon thingy and thread it up from your leg to under your brain to take a hormone sample. While you're awake. The hell?

My thinking has gotten so cloudy- I think that's close to the top of the list. All of this crap, and I really try to learn from it. Not to squash down my inner cry baby, but to emerge at some point with an answer deeper than a tantrum.

But, now I start to get these cluster headaches. Cluster headaches. Are you kidding me? Cluster headaches are like migraines, but more severe. They are called cluster headaches because you'll go through cycles in which you'll get 'clusters' of these headaches every day at the same times; then, you have a remission for awhile. I got some medicine, and even with it, I wondered what I was going to do. Just to function (as in show up), I needed to take about 20 dollars a day in pills. B and I have had conversations lately about what will happen if I'm not able to work.

And that's what really makes me feel resentful.

I dare you to find ten other people who love teaching as much as I do. It is such an incredible privilege to me, and here I am, wondering if I can at least make it through the year. I feel bitter about teachers who don't appreciate their profession; I feel incredibly and increasingly judgmental about it. I find myself hoping and praying someone will make an unlucky comment to me so I can feel justified in saying what I really feel.

Now, without the medicine, I just don't know. I know I'll have to accept whatever happens. I know it'll be okay. I don't always feel okay about it. The lesser me (egoic me?) feels like I'm missing out on life. Missing out on being there 100% for the best job in the world, for kids that deserve someone to actually be present for them.

I'm trying to hard to keep swimming, and when do I say I'm doing great, I really mean it. I know I'm learning from this. I know this is important for me, otherwise it wouldn't be happening. But I feel like two people right now. There is the wiser self, who sees the perspective in it all, the greater purpose. The other thoughts are there, too. And I'm not going to try and make them go away, because I've finally realized we aren't our thoughts. Our thoughts just are.

It is what it is.

This moment is the perfect teacher. No. This one.

+If you wanna look at the bright side of things, sleep every night with a Preston next to you.  No matter what happens any other time of the day, you've got that and it's pretty great.  One of those small pleasures that adds up to a whole lot.

+Preston makes everything better. 

+If you want to look at all sides, listen to Pema.  She would say to lean into the pain, the groundlessness.  Be grateful for pain and losses, a reminder of the inherent impermanence of things, of the groundlessness that is our true reality.  You know, I've tried to visualize myself in groundlessness, and it was not at all comforting; I had really thought it would be.  But, when I visualize myself in a river or creek, letting go completely and flowing with the current of the stream, I do feel comforted and at home.  And I do want to let go, and I am, kind of; but it's also so easy to grab a branch here and there, or to think you've let go and not even notice your legs are exhausted from trying to kick their way upstream.  This moment is the perfect teacher.  Even the kicking.  And the grasping.

+Today at work, I did some inner grasping.  I had a reaction to some new medicine, yet another new.   All in all, not that big of a deal in and of itself, but of course I let it all add up.  I felt so out of control about things these days, just like, "I can't control what I'm doing right now in life.  I want to, and I can't."  I had this awareness that all the control I used to have, over my body, had just been escaping me, little by little, and now it seems to be escaping in ever-expanding chunks-- and there I was, not being able to do my job (which I tend to identify with), and really having to face that it's harder to do my job the way I'd like...knowing that what I was so excited and relieved might help me was doing the opposite.  I really did want to panic a little bit, because having no control has been a recurring theme as of late.  It's very humbling.

+And, in the humility was finally the reminder that I was never in control anyways.  "This is where I am," I thought.  And I just kept saying it to myself.  "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.  I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing."  And, when I went back to my class and watched a bunch of 6 year olds just so into their creative little works, I thought about how sad I felt to not be "with it" enough these days to really engage with them like I should.   I mean, I'm doing my job, but not with the same passion.  But I remembered again, "This is exactly where I am supposed to be."  And really, although so much of me hates, hates, hates this, it is.  Exactly.  

+The meds, by the way, I was given yesterday for these chronic, debilitating headaches I've been having.  I've had a handful of migraines in the past, but have never gotten medicine because I've never had a consistent issue.  Then, I started getting "migraines" that wouldn't go away, that were really kicking my youknowwhat.  Thought it was a migraine from the hormonal changes of said toomah  or something to do with sinuses, but the dr said it sounded a lot like cluster headaches.  Huh.  I had heard those, but thought they were only the ones you hear about that are supposed to be unspeakably painful (think: screaming in public).  Some say it's the most severe pain known to medicine; mine are not like tickles, but man, it is nothing like what I've heard.  I did a little reading, and there is a correlation between tumors like mine and these kinds of migraines.

+Maybe this will get me motivated if I end up needing what shall henceforth be referred to the "what the hell?" surgery.

+Maybe Preston needs to come lay with me.

+Or, maybe I should just be still with the drama, the uncertainty.  The uncertainty was there all along.   Now, my life circumstances have just highlighted what is a universal truth already; why do I act surprised?

+-says one part of me.

+The other part is feeling pretty shaken; accepting impermanence can be a b&*%$.

Putting the ghetto in ghettoasis

Why, yes, that is chicken wire and a bicycle chain.

Phone booth in creek. Used to be on our side until a big rain. Now, it's our neighbor's phone booth. Gah, are they trashy, having a phone booth in their creek.

Trash waterfall. This is my favorite trashy thing about our back yard. When we first moved in, there was sometimes a waterfall sound...After some good trash build up, there is always a waterfall. It's fabulous resort-style living.

honeysuckle, highlighters + red wine

When I got home, the three education books I bought were finally here!  So, I had some wine and cheese and grapes and books about teaching reading.  I went all highlighter/sticky note crazy.  It was so nerdy and fabulous.  Seriously, though?  I have a great life.

Honey suckle! I love these guys. You know, we have all of this English Ivy, which I can't help but love. Then, we had all of this other ivy that I didn't really love, but turns out- it's honey suckle. Yay, because that I do love. What a happy little blessing.

Another great day.

Pretties.

My great, great aunt made the quilt.  I LOVE it.  I have another that I also love, which also seems to be fashioned from moo moos but less matchy ones.  I love prints.  

Dear B + B's dad,

Thank-you for my door.

Love, 

Riley

Oak Cliff Nature Preserve

Not long ago, B + I went hiking at the Oak Cliff Nature Preserve.  

There were rocks with seedy pasts. 

There were trails much more steep and rocky that the brave people (not me) fly through on their mountain bikes.   One thing we learned here is not all Oak Cliff Nature Preserve trails are equal.  Just because the first one took 11 minutes doesn't mean you will get off of the next one before dark.

There were roots.  And moss.

Happy accident.

Ghettoasis Treasures

Lizard + English Ivy during our front-yard picnic.

Waiting to bloom.

Snail rapture.

Charlie, charlie, charlie.

When I first opened up my new computer, it did a whole mess of fancy things, including automatically playing this fancy pants video, making me feel like I was in one of those omnimax films. Then, out of nowhere, my own face was staring back at me. The heck? But the pictures are scary, no? Kind of reminds me of when the tv was lighting up the little girl's face in Poltergeist. Oooh.

The when in which she has a toomuh.

Tumor, that is.  

On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not crazy (in one respect).  I've been pretty sure that I used to be much skinner with MUCH more ease, that I did not use to be such a "cloudy" thinker, a sometimes anxious thinker, that my skin was prettier + easier to please, that I was not so shut-the-front-door exhausted to tears...And much, much more.  

Now, pretty much, it all finally adds up.  Tumors on your pituitary are not usually cancerous, but they can really mess with your body, I've come to know.  It is the boss of all of your hormones, and it turns out that hormones are just about everything.  It is shocking how much of our personalities can be chalked up to biochemistry.  It has been an exercise in humility, observing how little control I actually have over not only my body but my emotions and my mind.  While I've never identified with being the skinniest or prettiest (although maybe skinniER or prettiER), I have identified with being on the go and with being somewhat articulate when I want to be.  It's been awhile since I've not been tired (I've finally stepped back and realized this- other people noticed before I did) and since I've been able to find my words the way I used to.   

Honestly, I'm a little afraid of some of this, but only in a big baby way.  If they have to remove it?    Um, are you kidding me?    Yeah, I'm a little concerned about all of the systemic issues like the ongoing fevers I've been trying to figure out for a couple of years, and the lumps popping up all over.  What are those?  They hurt a tiny bit; that's how I find them.  That's a good thing, right?  

It sounds a little frightening on paper, but I have a feeling that certain hormones can cause quite an inflammatory response.  I see an endocrinologist in a couple of weeks, and we'll continue to work on finding some answers.

I have no control.  I never did.  

Thich Nhat Hanh: "Nothing remains the same for two consecutive moments. Heraclitus said we can never bathe twice in the same river. Confucius, while looking at a stream, said, "It is always flowing, day and night." We may be tempted to say that because things are impermanent, there is suffering. If you suffer, it is not because things are impermanent. It is because you believe things are permanent. When a flower dies, you don't suffer much, because you understand that flowers are impermanent. Aware of impermanence, you become positive, loving and wise. Impermanence is good news. Without impermanence, nothing would be possible. With impermanence, every door is open for change. Impermanence is an instrument for our liberation.