Bitter

I'm bitter, and I feel bad about it.  


I am tired of well-meaning friends calling and asking me what I am up to.  You really want to know?  Well, today, I got out of bed, went to the couch, opened my laptop, and have been watching the Casey Anthony trial streaming on the Internet, pretty much non-stop.  I have not moved from the couch.  I can't tidy up the house, I can't run down to the beach, I can't help the love of my life while he's out sweating do death working in the yard.  You may recall that I am recovering from major ankle surgery.  It's been 2 months since I have walked, and frankly, I am becoming bitter.  I am tired of the rest of the world being able to go on with their lives and not have to worry about swelling and pain and crutches and handicapped parking places and stupid people who disregard someone who is hobbling around on crutches.  I am bitter because I am tired of being like this.


I feel bad because I am snapping at those closest to me when I know they mean well.  I feel bad because I know they aren't rubbing in their good times to me, they are my friends, and they are sharing life with me, as I've shared life with them.  I don't have anything to share with them though, and when I do share, I feel like I am seeking pity about my situation.  


Currently, my life is a lot of waiting.  I'm waiting for bone to fuse, bone to heal, calcification to take place.  I have to sit quietly, stay safe, and do nothing to jeopardize the work that has been done.  Waiting has become bitterness.  Of course this will pass, I will be back to my old self soon, but for now, I want to be bitter and angry.  

Random Stuff

I hate tomatoes.  They are vile and make me gag.  I will pick out the smallest piece of chunk tomato in my spaghetti sauce.

I love sushi.  I will try any type of sushi at least one time, and the only thing I have found I don't like is salmon roe - *shudders.

I wore a shirt with a hole in it to work today.

I have an obsession with making sure the toilet lid is down.  I am getting better at it, but used to go behind my house guests and put it down.

Toilet paper has to come over the top.  I've found myself changing it in public restrooms before.  I don't change it at friend's homes, though the temptation is HUGE.

Even after 20 years, I still get butterflies in my stomach when the love of my life kisses me.

I really want to live on a sailboat someday.

I have the BEST idea for a book, but I just can't get it out on paper.  

I have two friends that I have never talked to or met in real life.  We are closer in many ways than some of my real life friends.

I worry way too much about how other people view me.

I can be really, really lazy sometimes, but like to brag about how productive I am.

I have had a meltdown in Dillard's shoe department.

I hate shopping in department stores, but love to troll thrift stores.

I always walk with my head down so that I won't miss a penny to pick up or a really cool rock.

I think my dog is better and cuter than everyone else's dog.

I can live the rest of my life and never eat another bite of chocolate and be okay with that, but please don't make me go without french fries and Whoppers.

Sometimes I just wish the love of my life and our little dog could just leave the rest of the world behind and go far, far away.  Of course, I would want to at least have the Internet so that I can blog, Facebook, and Tweet about it.

Since having ankle surgery, I really hate taking a shower.  I wish there was a magical way I could get clean.

I love to play the "What If" game.  But I only really like to play it with bad thing and outcomes.  It makes it much more fun.  Sometimes, when I'm in a good mood, I like to play "What if I win the Powerball".

I really want to get a hole-in-one.

Crashing My Own Pity Party

First of all, I will admit that I am a huge fan of pity parties.  I think they are necessary and can be very therapeutic.  I have two rules for my own personal pity party though.  First and most important, pity parties cannot last more than one day.  Any longer than a day is more likely a trip down the proverbial rabbit hole and stronger measures must be taken.  Second rule is that I don't invite people to my pity party.  These things really are better left to just one person.  Bringing someone into the mix can lead to broken friendships, more sleepless nights, and if done on a frequent basis relationship issues.  


I am fine admitting to those around me that I am having the pity party.  Most people will steer clear and leave me to my darkness.  Some people try to be cute and cheer me up, which sometimes will help, but more often than not is just not what I am wanting.  I want to bask in self loathing and misery and sadness and, well, pity.  I want to do it and get it over with.


Today was the perfect day for a pity party, but thanks to the love of my life, I was actually able to crash that party.  Today mark three weeks since my ankle surgery for me.  I've not been able to do much of anything, but lie on the couch, lie in the bed, sit in the chair, crutch or knee walk to the bathroom.  Each activity is tiresome, can oftentimes be cumbersome, and takes enormous effort.  Said love of my life had a paperback in hand, asked me if I needed anything, and was headed out for a couple of hours in the pool.  I just shook my head no and proceeded to settle in for the duration of the pity party.  
Then he asked me if I was enjoying my pity party, to which I answered, "of course!"  He then asked me if I wanted to join him outside.  It's too hot, my cast will feel miserable, and I retorted (okay, whined) my litany of reasons to stay inside and sulk.  My nifty little Xerosox won't be in for a few days, so I'd just tough it out in the nice air conditioned house.  
My beloved gave me an alternative and questioned my "toughness", which was basically a challenge to live up to his offer to help me through my dark day.  So, I bucked up, went with his creativity, and had total trust in him and was able to spend a glorious hour in the pool.  


Sure it would have been easier to stay inside and wallow away, but how often does one get to crash their own party?

Cabin Fever

Today was the first day, almost 3 weeks into this journey, that I have felt really confined.  I am tired, I am cranky, and I am on the verge of a pity party.  I know that I can contribute a lot of it to not sleeping well.  I'm uncomfortable and in discomfort that borderlines on pain.  Finding comfortable position while wearing this pink monstrosity is a joke.  There isn't one.  
Then you add that there isn't much a girl in my position can do since walking is out of the question for at least 3 more weeks.  I've been reading, watching some Netflix, reading, and that's really about it.  I go from the bed to the couch and back.  I can't sit outside because, well, it's summertime in Florida and who knew fiberglass was such a conductor of heat.
I did order a Xerosox this evening.  It's a latex "sock" of sorts that has an airtight seal that will enable me to get into the pool.  I think being able to enjoy the sport of lying on a raft for a few hours a day will cheer me up some.  At least the Vitamin D will do some good.  I'll do a full review and link once I get the product and try it out.
I am heading back to work a week from today, and that will help my disposition a lot as well.  It will be nice to get out of the house.  It's going to be a pain in the rear hobbling around, but I have a couple of really awesome co-workers who have agreed to be my personal servants as long as I need them to.
As I've mentioned before, I've been through the ankle surgeries before, but I don't recall feeling this way.  This time it seems different and harder.  I can't put my finger on exactly what it is.  


This too shall pass.  I will give myself one day of a pity part and move on!

Recharge

Until I crossed the Sunshine Skyway Bridge early Saturday morning, I had not realized how much I really needed a break from the mundane of every day life. 

We took an overnight, two day trip down toward the Port Charlotte area.  My childhood best friend was visiting her snowbird parents from Northern New York, so what better thing to do than take them to our favorite, not very well known beach.  Two left turns and a quick right at the round-about, and we were at the beach!  My friends thought it was as amazing as I do!

We spent the afternoon walking up and down the beach, collecting sharks teeth and sea shells.  We chatted with old men who had spoons attached to old golf club shafts – it was much easier than having to bend over every three seconds when you saw a shark tooth.  We sprawled out on the warm sand, played in the surprisingly warm water, and we all had these funny smiles on our face that showed how wonderful the sea air was treating us that day. 

I took a few moments for myself and walked up the beach.  Even though my daily life has a relatively low stress level, I do forget to take time out to just get away from everything.  This was that weekend for me.  I walked along the beach, hearing the surf crash, I watched the seagulls chasing each other, I watched the end of a wedding, and I took in a deep breath of salty air.  I was at peace!

We came back to the beach early Sunday morning for a few hours.  It was quiet when we arrived.  We wandered along the same stretch of beach as we had the day before, but it was like seeing it for the first time.  The water was a perfect green, like a piece of glass that tumbled across the ocean for a hundred years.  The sun kissed our shoulders, leaving pink in its place. 

I was in the place that makes me happiest, along the sea, with the love of my life.  I was refreshed and my batteries were recharged.  I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t wait so long to get back to that place.