Tinnitus? Seriously?

My ears have been ringing for a few days, now, and I decided to look it up on the internet - because that's what we do, nowadays, right?  As per the norm, a quick search of 'ringing in my ears' led to a plethora of sites ranging from simple information on the name of the 'condition', possible causes and treatments, 'miracle cure' buy-our-product sites, and links to surgeons who perform cochlear implants.  Fascinating.  Turns out any number of things can cause the annoying ring, including loud noise, ear infection, excess salt or sugar intake, vitamin or mineral deficiency, stress, anxiety, certain medications, tumors, high or low blood pressure, Meniere's Disease, head or neck injury, and on and on and on.  It's annoying to have my head ringing, for sure, but not unbearable, so I'm not calling the doc just yet.  I have an appointment in February, and I can wait 'til then - I think.  We'll see.

Obviously, along with all these possible causes, there were lists of treatments, therapies and/or 'cures' as well.  Most of the sites suggested one first pinpoint the cause of their particular ring, as to best determine the course of treatment for it.  Simple enough in my case:  I'm going with the cocktail of sinus/ear infection, salt/sugar intake, vitamin/mineral deficiency, stress/anxiety.  So, I can adjust my diet, try and calm down, and somehow conjure myself a craniosacral massage with essential oils and/or aromatherapy session.  Easy!  No need to run screaming to the doc at all - I can do this.  The truth is, it's just another warning sign along the path that I've been ignoring for years.  Dairy is well known to mime flu symptoms, and my now-yearly sinus infections are most likely a reaction to my love of all things milk and cream.  Salt?  Not so much.  Sugar?  All you who know me are nodding a resounding "YES" to that one.  I do love my soda, and my chocolate - even if it is of the heart-healthy deep, dark kind.  And this latest bout of Stress with a capital 'S' has thrown me headlong into the arms of my beloved vices - Sprite, cheese, milk, and that bowl of Hannukah chocolate that's been wantonly displaying itself on my table for weeks...

As one of my friends so blithely pointed out in her blog the other day (I'll have to ask her if I can link it here), we're 'at that age', and the little girl in the back of her head is stamping her feet in protest of having to pay more attention to the ways she treats herself as she ages, or suffer the all-too-often awful consequences.  My ears ring in understanding, as I kick the ass of the little girl in my head for recognizing, and subsequently ignoring, the warning signs that have been setting off alarms in my system for years.  When is enough enough?  I'm pretty sure I've posed this question to myself before, but I ask again, what will finally make me do the things I need to do rather than think about, and then ignore them?  What finite piece of the puzzle am I still lacking?  Sure, I haven't had a smoke since babydaddy had his heart attack (month and a half, maybe two?), and that's progress, but it's like I'm walking around with the keys to the kingdom and I'm busy throwing dice out back.  Rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints?  Damn straight!  I've got a bad case of 'it's all I've got left'!  No sex, no drugs, no rock & roll makes Mama a very bitchy girl, and woe be to thee who gets between me and my bacon cheeseburger! 

Perhaps, though, just perhaps - what if I find that refining myself through the fire and entering the kingdom proves to be the very thing I was seeking after all along?  Wouldn't it be worth it?  How will I know unless I try?  I mean, if it isn't, I could always go back to abusing myself to death, right?

Time to catch up a bit, I guess...

It's the day after Thanksgiving, one of my least favorite holidays, for one reason or another, and I'm trying to remember what track I was on, so I can get back to it.  It seems I've been lost under moving boxes, piles of laundry and exhaustion of late, and even though I could probably put my head down on the desk and fall asleep right now, I wanted to get something out that has been kicking around my head for a few days.  Remember when my mom threatened to sue me for custody of my child for no good reason recently?  Remember how I moved out of the county just to get away from her and the rest of the toxic members of my 'family'?  Remember how I said I'd never move back to NY because these people had so traumatized me in my youth?  Well, they haven't stopped tormenting me just because I moved away - again.  The nasty emails keep coming.  The horrible phone messages still end up in my voice mail.  The one I got yesterday went like this:

"Hello, my darling and beautiful grandchild, I miss you!  I'm so sorry your mommy won't let you come see me on Thanksgiving!  I love you!"

Now, I have no problem with The Bitch loving and missing her grandchild, but how can she possibly blame me for not 'letting' him come see her for Thanksgiving when she never invited him in the first place?  And seriously, did she think he was going to answer my cell phone, have a quick chat with her about it, hop in the car and drive himself down there for dinner at 3pm?  What a sick and twisted thing to do.  I made it clear to her, many times, that all she needed to do to begin the healing process was to apologize for threatening to attempt to take him away from me, and she refuses to respond to my very reasonable request.  She just keeps on sending nasty emails, leaving hateful messages, and continuing to blame me for keeping my son from her.  What a freak.  Anyway, the point of all this is that I was talking about this message and the sick mind behind it with a dear friend, who asked why I had even listened to the message in the first place.  Her take - just delete it.  Don't respond.  Step out of her game completely.  To that end, she suggested I delete all the emails I save in a folder on my hard drive, and all the ones on my cell phone as well.  I have been saving them in the event that I need them for evidence in case The Bitch ever really does decide to come after me for custody - to prove she's nowhere near sane enough to care for a child, and that she has been harassing me without provocation for several months now.  It's not even a question.  No matter how fucked up I may be, I take good care of my kid.  My friend told me it would reflect poorly on me for having saved them, would make me look vindictive, and in the event it ever actually came to a court case, The Bitch would quickly bury her damn self with her nonsense, without the cruel text messages for proof.  Ultimately, I agree with my friend, and think it would be cleansing and freeing to do so - but just before I hit that delete button for good, I thought I would ask anyone who may be reading this blog to weigh in with their opinions.  So, my friends - what do you think?  Keep said messages for evidence just in case?  Or dump them and be done with it?  Delete any future messages before reading/listening as well? 

I am thankful for many things, but besides my kid, I am most thankful for my dear, sweet friends whose guidance and insight I trust to help lead me to the correct decision.  Thanks for reading, I love you - and thanks in advance for your advice.

Peace ~


p.s. - I just realized I never really filled my 'blog audience' in on the particulars of my decision to move.  Due to exhaustion, and my desire to put it behind me, here's the short version:  my mother went ballistic on me one day a few months ago because she didn't like the way I agreed to take my grandfather to his doctor's appointment.  Words were exchanged, mostly extremely ugly and untrue words coming from her, to which I responded as cooly as I was able, until she threatened to sue me for custody of my son on the grounds of 'mistreatment and endangerment'.  I asked her to please refrain from contacting me again, changed my phone number, and moved to a new apartment.  She got the new number somehow, and continues to harass me via email and the occasional voice or text message.  Both my brother and my grandfather have sent similarly ugly and accusatory messages - my grandfather I responded to (unkindly), and my brother I have not responded to at all.  I have not heard from either one of them since.  Sometimes I respond to my mother, mostly I don't.  I'm just trying to move on with my life, with my son, in a supportive environment, with love and intention.  That's all.  Thanks.

Dona Nobis Pacem

thanks again to Robin, at Around The Island, for showing me yet another worthwhile way to blog.

Today is the day...

...I tell the landlord I'm only mailing him most of the rent.  Today is the day I tell my advisor where I am with my project.  Today is the day is go to the mall with my resume, paint on the smile and get a crappy job.  Today is the day I finish my degree in one last jet-burn of 'can do'.  Today is the day.  Today is the day.  Today is the day after Halloween, or Samhain, as I liked to call it, back when I was making a point - a bright, cold, clear morning, I sent the boy off to school with a hat and gloves, still stinky and unwashed from last Winter, but wearing them, nonetheless.  I'll add it to the list...

Today is another day in a series when I seem to have repeatedly written a theme, based on the timeframe of 'today'.  There's a certain mood, obviously, a particular feeling in a specific moment.  The day after.  Today.  What comes now, Titus Bird, what then?  What would happen if everyone came to me with that question?  What if a million people wanted to know what my opinion was?  I would probably run and hide, that's what.  I don't really want to blow the lid off of anything, I mostly just want to be left alone.  Today I refuse to be overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, because today is the day...