When you go to bed at 11 and you start to fall asleep but you begin to dream. And the dreams aren't "normal" dreams.  They are nightmares. 

First you are on a roller coaster and you have a baby with you and the safety buckles are to loose on him and you are trying to hold him in but he is slipping because you are going down a hill so steep that you can't see the end of it.  And you are loosing your hold on him and he starts to fall and you are trying so hard to scream but no sound will come out and then you jerk awake. 

Maybe the dreams will go away. 

You shut your eyes again and you are in a different dream.  You are in a day care for adults but the tables and chairs are still little and they are serving you tomato soup in yellow cups and everyone starts to clap because you all love the yellow cups!  And then your chair starts to tip and you don't notice before but there is a black hole behind you and your chair is tipping and you can't grab anything to keep you from falling and there you go.....

So you wake up and try to hold still so you don't wake your husband but you know he is already awake because you can't stop jerking and shaking. 

So you try one more time.  But now you are on a roof.  And you see two men.  One has a black bag over his head and is opening and closing a door that is so loud that your ears are hurting and you try to put your hands up to cover them but they are glued to your sides but wait....wasn't there two men?  Where is the other one?  And you feel someones breath on your neck and they are saying "don't move".  And you try to hold still and you see your husband and he is saying "don't speak they are robbing us.  Hold still".  And you are scared to wake up because you think the dream is real and there are robbers in your dark bedroom. 

You pry your eyes open and your heart is pounding so hard you think the bed is thumping along with it. 

You turn on the light and you say, "I'm so sorry I'm keeping you awake."

And your husband says, "It's OK.  It's OK.  It's OK.  Let's talk about  good things.  Happy things.  Non scary things."

So you talk about the kids and how good and sweet they are.  And you talk about his dad and how funny he is. 

You think, maybe i  forgot to take my medication and that's why the dreams are so bad.  So you pop a pill and hope that the dreams will stop. Or maybe it's the medication that is causing you to dream in the first place. And now you have just taken another dose.

Your husband starts to read the newspaper because he's awake so why not and you try to do a logic puzzle.  You know the ones?  Where they give you four clues and you have to figure out who is related to who or who ate what on what day or something like that. 



But then your mind is elsewhere and you say, "Did I put dinner away?  Is it still on the counter?  It's Micah's favorite and he wanted it for lunch tomorrow...or actually today"

He says, "I'll go check."

And you say, "Thank you and while you are in there can you bring me a yogurt because suddenly I am so hungry."

And he says, "Sure."




So he brings it to you and you really want him to shut your closet door because it's open and you are scared but you don't say anything because you are not five anymore and you already feel stupid for waking up from nightmares so you don't say anything.  You eat your yogurt like a good girl and you take a picture of the clock because it's just so absurd that you are eating yogurt at 2:56 am and your husband is reading the paper and you are doing a puzzle. 

But the puzzle isn't turning out so well because you are so tired and all the names and foods start to look the same and you tell yourself that you are so stupid you can't even figure out a stupid puzzle but you don't remember that you haven't slept yet.  So you cross it out and throw the book on the floor. 




You turn the light off and you look at the clock. 




You try to take a picture of something else but it's so dark and the only thing that the phone will take a picture of is the clock.



And you lay there.  Scared to close your eyes.  But to tired to keep them open.

And you pray.

Please please, calm my mind.  Help me not dream.  Help me stay calm.  Help me not jerk awake.  Help me not grind my teeth. Help me sleep.  Help me.  Help me.

 There are so many "Help me's"  that you feel guilty so you say some "thank you's".

Thank you for my husband who keeps me safe.  Thank you for my family. Thank you for giving me another chance.  Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you thank you thank you.

Around five you start to drift.  Finally.  And it's deep and it's good and it's peaceful. 

Thank you thank you thank you.

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I was getting gas the other day.  Micah was in the truck.  I had my hair like this.

I felt something flutter to my hair.  I thought maybe it was a bug.  Or a plastic sack.  But in my heart I knew it was a bird.

 A bird. On my head!

  I stayed very calm.  Because I knew if I panicked that the bird would possibly get caught in my hair. 

This was no easy feat.  I had a bird on my head.  ON MY HEAD!!  And it was just hanging out there! He was perfectly calm.  I think maybe he thought my braid was a nest of some sort.



Does it look like a nest???

Maybe it does a little.  I don't know. 

I calmly raised my hand and gave the bird a gentle nudge.  It started flapping it's wings and squawking and finally jumped down to the pavement and walked under my truck.  My heart was pounding!  I opened my door and said, "Micah!  Did you see that!!??  The bird!  On my head!"

He said, "Uh no...but I heard a bird talking pretty loud."

I said,"That was the bird!  He was mad because I kicked him out of his nest!"

He said, "Wait.  What?"

Anyway.  It freaked me out. 

I'm glad it didn't poop on me.  Or get caught in my hair.  I was almost tempted to go inside and see if they had a surveillance camera.  Then I could have shared it with you!  I'm sure it would have been quite entertaining.  Who knows.  Maybe it is floating around out there. 

The crazy bird lady getting gas.  Google it. Or maybe it's on YouTube as we speak. 

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First off....I realize I spelled Teriyaki wrong.  How could I have forgotten the "y"?  I'm pretty sure my family won't notice though. 

The weekend didn't feel like a weekend.  Partly because I was feeling bad.  And partly because I went into work both Saturday and Sunday. 

Despite feeling lousy and tired and unmotivated....I pushed through it and made the first four dinners on Saturday so they are ready for the week.  They were easy and didn't take to long to prepare.  I couldn't just stay in bed all day.  Even though I REALLY wanted too.  I'm not sure what my work schedule will be like this week so I knew I had to do something around the house or I would really be in trouble come Monday.  I didn't feel like cleaning or doing laundry so I cooked. Sunday I made the lasagna. 

On Friday I had cut some fresh herbs from my bosses herb garden (the gardener takes care of it...yes she can afford a gardener).  I cut some basil, oregano, chives and parsley.  I could not let those beautiful herbs rot in my refrigerator.  So I based my menu off of them.

I think my favorite is basil.

I fell in love with it when I visited Paris and had a Caprese sandwich.  Basil leaves, tomato slices and a thick slice of mozzarella on french bread. Grilled so the mozzarella strings when you pull the sandwich away from your mouth.  Yum. 



I'm no expert on fresh herbs but if you can somehow get them or grow them...do it.  They SMELL.  I mean...you buy them dried in the little jar and they hardly have any fragrance.  Take for instance oregano.



This is what it looks like in fresh form.  It's scent was so strong i could smell it all over my kitchen.  I would love to cook with fresh herbs all the time but it's just not possible.  And honestly...my family would never know the difference.  I just like the whole process of it.  Cutting the herbs from the plant and then chopping them up at home.  Tasting them. Smelling them. 

Maybe one day I'll have my own little herb garden. 

On a entirely different note...I bought these giant cupcakes (miniature cakes?) at Costco.

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The past few days I have been spiraling downward.  So much so that on Thursday I spent the entire day in bed, sleeping on and off.  I know I'm depressed when I can sleep all through the night, on and off the next day and then the whole night through again. 
I also know it when the simple task of brushing my teeth feels like to much effort so I just skip it. 
And when going downstairs to look for some shorts feels so enormous that my husband has to do it for me. 
Despite all that I pulled myself together and went to work today.  I'm on auto pilot at work on the days that I don't feel good.  Only it's a bit different now that things are changing at work.  So I pump myself full of caffeine and chocolate to get through the day and then crash when I get home.  As in change into pajamas and get into bed the minute I walk through the door. 

Except for today I had a appointment to get my hair done.  No worries though.
My hairdresser has seen all of my moods.  I have cried so many times in her chair.  I have sat there emotionless and dug for words to say.  I have chatted her ear off and laughed at inappropriate jokes.

Today we talked about dying.  I asked if she had ever watched someone die. 
She has. 
So we compared stories.

I can only imagine what she says about me when I leave. 
I really don't care though. 
She's a great person and I know that she is a little nuts herself and gets where I am coming from. 

I'm tired of my 365 project.  When I'm feeling good it's OK.  But when I'm not...I hate it.  The voice in my head sounds like this...

"Why do you keep this up!  You hate it! Your really not good at it anyway.  I mean who wants to see a picture of a salad?!?!  You should just give it up.  Your pictures suck!    Your writing sucks!   You suck!"

When I'm not depressed the voice in my head sounds like this..

"Rats.  You forgot to take a picture today.  Hmmmm.....what to do, what to do.  How about this?   It's not to bad.  Even though it does kind of suck.  Actually it does suck.  You should just give it up.  Your pictures suck! Your writing sucks!  You suck! 

Oh wait...well...I guess sometimes the voices are the same and that is the reason I am in therapy.  And on meds.  And generally sort of a mess. 

After my hair appointment i came home and got in bed.  Surrounded with some reading material.


 You know... just typical stuff.

Entertainment Weekly.  The Handbook of Hospice.  




You would think that reading about Hospice would be even more depressing but it's oddly comforting.  We have already established that I hate the "unknown" so I have been trying to read all I can about the dying process. 

Obviously someone close to you dying right before your eyes can cause depression.  You wouldn't be human if it didn't. 
So I'm sure a large part of this...episode?  Whatever you call it  is being triggered by my bosses failing health.  But alot of it feels like the same ole struggles with myself.  Not being good enough, feeling worthless, and so very very tired even though I'm getting enough sleep. Total lack of energy and motivation to do the most simplest of tasks.  Confusion, racing thoughts and lack of concentration. 

Good times.

So I am going to hang out in bed tonight and hope for the best tomorrow.

 Hope I feel  lighter and not so dull and heavy.

 Hope I feel enough energy to cook my family a meal.  Which I haven't done the last few nights.

Hope my mind is clear enough to complete a task. 

 Hope that I feel good enough to smile for real. 

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I fill up the biggest bowl I can find.

And I don't eat just one bowl full.  I usually eat two. 

Is that normal?  I mean, is it normal for a 38 year old woman?  I expect it out of a teenage boy or something. 

Whatever.  I love it.   Did you know that Cheerios are good for your heart?  So if I eat two bowls then I am getting double the benefits!

Please don't tell me I'm wrong. 

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One of my biggest fears about going on vacation was leaving my boss.  I was so scared that something would happen while I was gone. 

It didn't. 

But she's not ok. 

She's not ok at all.

And the last few days have been really really scary.  And heartbreaking. 

I can't post details here because I want to respect her privacy. 

But she is losing everything. 

I've been saving little notes that she writes.  Instructions for me.  Grocery lists.  Prescription numbers.  I want to remember her handwriting. 

She gave me a sweater the other day.  Told me to throw it away.  It smelled like her.  I put it in a bag when I got home.  I want to keep her scent with me forever. 


I wish I would have written down all that I have learned from her over the years.  The funny things she said that made me laugh.  The big things.  The little things. 

Every morning for the past 14 years she has set a coffee cup out for me.  I wasn't a coffee drinker.  But I am now.  Just at work.  When she sets out my cup. 

When she's gone...will I still drink coffee?  Will it hurt everytime I get a cup out?

She tells me everyday that she loves me.  That I mean so much to her.  That she appreciates all I do.  That I am her life. 

I tell her that she is mine.   That I would do anything for her.  That I love her. 

It's coming.  I know it's coming. 

I'm afraid.

 I'm afraid that she will suffer for weeks or months. 

I'm afraid that she will leave me tomorrow. 

I'm afraid I won't be there when it happens.

I'm afraid I will be there when it happens. 

Everyday I force myself to go home.  I want to stay with her.  Make her as comfortable as I possibly can.  But there is only so much I can do. 

I can't save her. 

She's leaving. 

And I am already missing her. 

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