Happy Toxic Holidays

Are they over yet?

Someone PLEASE tell me if the holidays are over yet…I’m hanging on by my short hairs at this point. (Oooh, not a pretty image – hope no one was eating …)

If you’ve wondered where the hell Dr. Wiseass has been lately – I’ve been hanging on by above mentioned hair and trying to make all sorts of ‘merry’ from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve.

In the past, the holidays have been stressful for a variety of reasons – mostly because I have this dysfunctional idea that I must do my damndest to make everything as ‘Norman Rockwell’ as possible – which, by the way, has always been impossible for me anyway, yet I continue to do it nonetheless!

The fact that I am a perfectionist of sorts only compounds this problem because the stress of not having perfection only makes me more uptight and unable to complete my tasks because I’ve given lots of energy over to being stressed out about stupid imperfections. That, my friends, is an example of insanity!

Combine with that above insanity with my chronic, active Lyme infection and you’ve got the recipe for a great toxic holiday experience!

TODAY’S MENU
NOW ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS
COUNTIN’ MY BLESSINGS
SANDY FEET – SANDY ASS
WHERE THERE’S A WILL…



NOW ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS
First of all, when I say “Happy Holidays” – I am generally referring to all the holidays from Thanksgiving to New Years – even though I don’t celebrate Kwanza (don’t know much about it and I don’t have energy to do it anyway) and I don’t celebrate Hanukah, although I have been known to give a nod to that holiday as Jesus was indeed Jewish, you know. Jesus celebrated Hanukah you can be sure!

Anyhoo – I have been fascinated this year by the whole controversy of whether people should say “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” and all the implications of both, blah blah blah. I understand the reasoning behind both camps, and yes, my good friend BB and I had a healthy debate over it and neither one of us got mad for being on so-called opposite sides – although I don’t really consider myself on a ‘side’.

You see, I started signing “Happy Holidays” on my Christmas cards YEARS ago because, quite frankly, I was and still am a big lazy ass. In case you haven’t counted – “Happy Holidays” has fewer letters in it than “Merry Christmas & Happy New Year”.

By doing that, I never had any intention of disrespecting Christmas – and I have no problem saying “Merry Christmas” to anyone. I probably wouldn’t say it to a Jewish friend – just as I wouldn’t expect my Jewish friend to say “Happy Hanukah” to me –although I certainly wouldn’t be pissed off if he/she did --- I’d just say “And a Merry Christmas to you” back to them, and then we’d laugh.

BUT it’s really a moot point as I currently, to my knowledge, have no Jewish friends.

Would someone out there in the internet world like to be my Jewish friend? And while we’re at it, I also have no Kwanza celebrating friend either – so that position is open as well.

Now back to the controversy….why did I even bring this up?

Oh yes, I think I was wanting to say that the holiday season – not to be confused with just the Christmas holiday – well, I think it almost killed my fat ass.



COUNTIN’ MY BLESSINGS
At Thanksgiving, my little nuclear family & I drove to a suburb of New Orleans – which is a whole other blog post since Katrina came blowing thru back in September – but that’s not the point of me telling this…hang with me…

We drove to New Orleans, which any drive over 30 minutes really kinda whips my ass, so that 9 hour experience felt like it almost did me in despite the fact that I was doing my damn level best to just sedate myself and snooze through the whole drive!

We stayed overnight with my bro & sis-in-law – you remember them – the ones that like to go to the damn gym ALL the time -- even when hurricanes are approaching?

Walking into their New Orleans home was like walking into a page from Southern Living magazine. Sis-in-law is a genius at the whole home-decorating thing and she’s an immaculate house keeper, too. If I didn’t love her – I’d hate her. I immediately felt like a pathetic slob. Not a cheery feeling by the way – but I struggled not to let my low self-esteem and my overwhelming fatigue and pain from the long ass drive spoil my special holiday time with family.

The next day – after all the healthy people went and worked out at the damn gym for over 2 freaking HOURS – we piled our asses back in the car and drove to bro & sis-in-law’s new beach house in Florida.

I can’t remember what damn beach we were on, but I was told it’s where the hoity-toity come to play. Yippee.

That drive took another 3 or 4 hours, I think – and we got to see lots of damage caused from Katrina, which was actually more of a ‘had to see’ rather than a ‘got to see’ because it was quite depressing to see all the destruction. I didn’t really want to be reminded of it, but I did recognize what a blessing it was for me because I did not have to personally deal with all of it. Hey, it was Thanksgiving and I was trying to count my blessings….and that’s a big one right there!

Instead of dealing with the continuous hell of the Katrina aftermath, I was dealing with some pain & fatigue and the frustration of not feeling good enough to be vacationing over Thanksgiving -- although I was certainly WILLING myself and doing it anyway; and I was also dealing with the frustration that comes from the slap in the face realization that I am a pathetic slob.

My inner, pathetic slob was not shocked, but just sucker punched again when we walked into their new, IMMACULATE beach house – which I could find no sand in. (Oops – ending that sentence with a preposition…yet another New Year’s resolution broken within only days! Damn!)

If I had a beach house, there would be sand everywhere. I would be a little unnerved by it because I know my housekeeping skills would hinder me from keeping all the sand out of every damn nook & cranny available despite my conscientious efforts. I realize I’m physically & psychologically incapable of dealing with that kind of stress now, so I suppose that it is also a blessing that I do not currently own a beach house. (Honey – sometimes you really need to LOOK to find those blessings!)

Naturally their beach house was beautiful, too – and larger than our one ‘regular’ pathetic slob home. It was like Southern Living at the Beach, only it wasn’t really Southern looking as it had a different decorative motif, which was fun….but it was still far too immaculate.

I watched my sis-in-law – who is MUCH older than me which automatically makes her an OLD woman – bounce around cleaning up after people; waiting on people; cooking delicious meals; orchestrating fun outings for the ‘healthy ones’ and then working out at one of their gyms for 2 damn hours each and every day.

(Interesting side note: Bro & Sis-in-law are members of not just 2…but 5 different gyms. FIVE! I do not understand that and really must resist the urge to judge them, hoping in turn that they resist the urge to judge me….the FAT, pathetic slob, & BLOB of a person that breaks out into a sweat just hearing the word ‘gym’.)

I honestly can’t tell you how many times over that week that I heard the phrase,

“Wanna go do some ‘cardio’ ??”

Bro-in-law sarcastically asked me once if I wanted to go to the gym with them, almost laughing while he said it. I wanted to get up and bitch-slap him but realized that might be considered rude and that I would probably sweat from the exertion. I think I suggested I wouldn't mind going to the gym, provided he wouldn't be embarassed when the paramedics had to be called.

He didn't ask again.

But I heard that damn phrase over and over - possibly even in my sleep:

"Wanna go do some 'cardio'??"

I finally just had to make it my own private buzz phrase and I tried to use it in sentences as often as possible, just to entertain myself.

I made up my bed daily (which certainly doesn’t happen at home) and I would loudly declare:

“Look, I’m doing my cardio!!!”

I don’t know if the ‘healthy people’ thought it was all that damn funny, but it made me laugh and that was important. I had to laugh myself out of that dark hole of depression that was trying to suck me in because of all the things I don’t have and all the things I can’t do – all the visions of who I can’t “BE” right now.

Yes, laughter, too, is a HUGE blessing for me. I definitely count it – do you?


SANDY FEET – SANDY ASS
We were at the beach for 4 days; and of those 4 days I could only make it to the beach 2 times and for limited time periods. This made me a little sad at times as it was a freaking ordeal for me to make it to the beach and back without wanting to pass my ass out!

But I was so thankful to be able to do it those 2 times because I know there are so many that even if given the opportunity – would not physically be able to do it.

There’s something very spiritual about the ocean for me – sitting on the beach watching tides, digging my toes in the sand, thinking of all the metaphors of life that can be applied thru nature.

During that first beach experience, I tried to walk along the beach with my healthy kin and only made it a few hundred feet. Part of me was frustrated by this, but realized that I couldn’t do anything about it and that I shouldn’t allow my current ‘handicap’ rob me of the joy of the experience. So I sat my fat ass down in the cold wet sand and just sat. I sat and sat. I sat and watched alone, telling my hubby to go on without me.

The solitude there was actually a very good experience for me….working through issues of bitterness about what I could and couldn’t do, collecting metaphors instead of sea shells because I didn’t have the energy for the physical digging – thankful than I can at least dig for the emotional gems, provided I’m willing to stop throwing my inner tantrums.

Now don’t get me wrong – Dr. Wiseass doesn’t always embrace and wear the emotional gems she discovers because she is forgetful. And why is she talking in 3rd person right now? I feel like the George Costanza character from Seinfeld. Talking about yourself in 3rd person is stupid, but fun at times so I shall continue to do so at spontaneous intervals. I will jump back and forth so as to confuse and entertain myself and you, provided you are willing to be entertained as opposed to just being annoyed.

The healthy people really took a long ass walk on the beach and part of me got impatient with all that solitude, so I just started taking digital pictures with my camera that doesn’t belong near water and sand but that I took anyway because I have been known to make stupid choices……

I just took pictures until my batteries were about dead. I took pictures of wave after wave, of seagulls that happened by, or those cute busy little birdies that walk really fast & would accidentally get close to me because I was sitting so still….you know, allowing my joints to almost glue themselves together… I don’t know why. I guess I was just in awe of the beauty and I wanted to capture it and use it to remember my metaphors that were streaming in, offering me a chance to grasp onto them, embrace them & use them to improve my stinky ass attitude.

The pictures were OK considering I’m not a camera buff – but I swear – for the life of me I can’t remember any of my great epiphanies. Normally I’d say, “Well maybe my epiphanies weren’t that damn great after all.” No. I was just too tired to remember shit.

If we ever get invited back again – I’m taking my laptop to the beach so I can capture my thoughts on electronic ‘paper’. Yes, taking a laptop to the beach – a supremely splendid idea! Hmmm… Note to self: Check conditions of warranty.

The second trip to the beach occurred when I was just dog tired, but I was determined that I was going to go build a damn good sand castle. I don’t think you’re ever too old to play in the sand. I think you can FEEL too damn old to do it – but I think the creative, playful act itself should never seem taboo to anyone of any age.

I think there’s something potentially spiritual about sand too – unless of course it is in every nook and cranny of your home, and then it’s just a pain in the ass. But I digress.

I basically WILLED myself to get to the beach, which by the way, is NOT generally handicap friendly.

Have you ever tried to walk on the beach with a cane? I know people were looking at me; some even seemed to glare (of course my eyesight is starting to fail a bit so I could be wrong about that.) And thankfully I was in a ‘good’ place emotionally then because I didn’t yell at or flip off ANYONE despite their apparent rudeness.

I was kina pissed though because I couldn’t see how anyone in a wheelchair could enjoy the beach. The beach is not really handicap accessible and I think people should make the effort to make it so – don’t you agree?

If hotels can build big ass boardwalks for the ‘healthy people’ (hereinafter referred to as the “HP’s” because typing ‘healthy people’ all the time is annoying…) why can’t they go ahead and make a little wheelchair ramp that would allow those in wheelchairs an opportunity to get a little closer to the water and the good, wet sand that you can just sink your feet into???? Cheap, greedy corporate bastards.

I should write them a letter, but damnit, that’s a fight I don’t have the energy to fight – so I’m gonna let it go…in just a second here….just one more time: “Cheap, greedy, corporate narcissistic healthy ass bastards!” Hey, my laptop didn’t underline the word: ‘narcissistic’ which means I spelled it correctly! THAT is a first! What a damn hoot.

Anyway, my actual hands-on sand castle building was limited, so I had to content myself with just watching my HP’s do it, occasionally offering some direction, resisting the urge to be controlling. Besides, we didn’t have all the right tools.

Yes, Dr. Wiseass can take her sand castle building quite seriously. A few years ago, on a vacation when I felt healthier, my daughter & I took lessons from a real sand castle builder – a professional. It was only an hour or so – but we learned quite a bit. I’d tell you all I know about that right now, but I don’t feel like it. So for those of you that really ‘dig’ the (w)hole sand castle scene - go here for more info:

http://www.sandcastlecentral.com/ ;
http://www.sandyfeet.com/ ; or
http://www.amazinwalter.com/

I believe when I took my lessons it was either from Lucinda Sandyfeet or someone that was sort of her competitor. I basically interviewed her because I’m such a good conversationalist (hahha) and she told me about some ‘dirt’ in the sand castle community. Although a great conversationalist - apparently I’m a lousy listener and can not recall even the name of the gal that taught us. Hmmmph.

And all that was just a little sandy rabbit trail for you … aren’t I just a wealth of useful info???

Back to my long ass story…

I generally had a really good time with my family at the beach, even though I spent a lot of time in bed and just had to enjoy the experience vicariously. I spent a lot of time just listening to them interact with each other and did my best to find the joy and contentment in being able to do that.

I was literally so exhausted on Thanksgiving day that, after I got myself all ‘dolled up’ for dinner, I became so dizzy I couldn’t stand, had to lie down and not move an inch because I was just sure I was going to puke all over those high thread-count sheets and all over that immaculate, expensive rug that had absolutely no sand in it whatsoever!

Dr. Wiseass missed Thanksgiving dinner!!!

My father-in-law accused me of being rude, to which I informed him I thought it might be considerably ruder if I puked all over the Thanksgiving table. My f-i-l (father-in-law) then got off my ass and left me alone about that…for awhile.

All in all, it was a wonderful trip and I hope that despite my ‘rude’ Thanksgiving behavior that bro & sis-in-law will invite us back some day –hopefully during a time when I don’t feel like I’m dying in slow motion…you know, so I can get sand all over my feet – even all over my ass, and then track it into their beach home and then sit back and see how sis-in-law handles THAT! HA!

WHERE THERE’S A WILL…
Upon arriving back at our filthy house, we discovered a plumbing leak. I do not have to tell you how stressful it is to live without running water for a couple of days. We thought about hooking up a hose from our neighbor’s house to ours – with their permission, of course – as we were convinced that collectively we’d have the acre of garden hose it would take to do it. But, hubby decided to schlup some buckets for toilet flushing from their house and we bought lots of bottled water until we found a plumber that had a skinny enough ass to crawl under our tiny crawl space which I think is the upper layer of hell. Crawl spaces freak the shit outta me. Is that normal? And should I care?

While hubby dealt with the plumbing crisis, I decided to further exhaust myself by cleaning up my house to the best of my ability because, after all, Thanksgiving ushers in the Christmas holiday SEASON (because that’s all you experience for well over a month because people are occupied getting ready for it and stores are busy making you feel like you’re already behind in your Christmas shopping because they’ve had their Christmas decorations up since Halloween!)

I decided that I just HAD to take some time to clean our filthy house before decorating it; otherwise it would be the equivalent to putting a pretty red bow on a pile of dog shit. Any one of you fellow pathetic slobs out there know what I mean?

Instead of doing what my body was begging me to do, which was go to bed and recover from my Thanksgiving trip – I cleaned. It was another one of those things that I had to literally WILL myself to do. And it was a miracle I could do it and not land my ass in the I.C.U. – because I DID mention that I’m apparently a pathetic slob, right?

After I cleaned, I had hubby drag out those decorations so I could spend over 3 weeks trying to get them all up. It took 3 weeks, not because we have that many decorations (a point on which my hubby would disagree), but because it takes a lot of damn energy to get it up. Geez - there’s a ‘get it up’ joke in there, but I’m too tired to go in after it.

Most of my Christmas shopping occurred at good ol’ Target because they have those motorized carts.

Thank GOD for motorized carts!

Sears needs to have motorized carts too – because I did have to force myself – WILL myself to going there to get some MANly Craftsman shit for my hubby to open on Christmas day only to return half of it a couple of days later because he already had it and I didn’t know it. Or if I knew he had it, I had apparently forgotten it or thought he had returned it some previous year --- so damnit I just got him some more!

But I don’t think you can ever have too many flashlights or laser levels, do you?


My good friend BB came to visit just prior to Christmas and I had such a lovely time visiting with her. I always enjoy her company, despite her being an OLD woman and all.

(FYI – I enjoy calling any woman older than me an OLD woman because it makes me feel young. Yes, it’s kinda rude – but I have a body that feels like I should have signed up for AARP DECADES ago – so I need all the help I can get. Besides – there’s nothing wrong with being OLD. I think that we, as a society, should not think of the word OLD as a bad thing. We should quit worshipping and idolizing YOUTH! I mean HELL! I’m a YOUTH relatively speaking, and yet, I feel quite OLD – so what’s the point? I don’t know. I believe I’m just rambling now. Or have I just been rambling all along?)

During BB’s visit she gently encouraged and then practically strong-armed me into declaring that I would NOT even TRY to cook Christmas dinner as I was not in the health to add that on my plate. I knew she was right, but my inner Martha Stewart was really having a problem with that.

BB insisted that I call and order Christmas dinner from a grocery store and have the rest of my family bring something with them. Hmmm. What an odd concept…but it had appeal.

When I told this plan to my former step-mother, who still comes to our family events because I love her dearly and still consider her part of the family because I didn’t divorce her and she & my father get along amazingly…you know, for divorced spouses. Anyway – SHE OFFERED TO COOK AND BRING IT TO MY HOUSE!

Actually she offered to host dinner at her house, but I selfishly insisted I wanted our Christmas dinner at my house because I had already spent all those damn weeks decorating my house – which it kinda looked like someone just vomited all things RED all over the place. So – GOD BLESS HER – she ended up cooking this wonderful meal and transported it to my house on Christmas day!

But I’m getting ahead of myself here…

Mere HOURS after BB left my house to go back home, my mother & father-in-law came into town. A quick change of the bed linens and that was pretty much all the special preparation I made for them. I would have gladly done more provided I had the energy, as I really do love my in-laws. I am blessed they are so loving and accepting of me – the poor sickly pathetic slob that I currently am!

My in-laws stayed until the early morning hours of Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve afternoon, my mom’s side of the family came to my house. And yes, even Mamma suggested that we ‘do Christmas’ over at her place this year. But NOoooooooooo! Little crazy ass Martha Wanna-be INSISTED they come to my house because as previously mentioned – I had already invested all that time vomiting all things red all over my house. It was just a place of Christmas magic…a Christmas Wonderland…except my hubby decided he wasn’t in the mood to put up outdoor lights this year. So I made damn sure to make up for it by putting lights everywhere indoors – over doorway arches, the mantle, over the dinner table. I even thought about putting some in the bathroom, but realized that might be a little much…you think? Of course a toilet outlined in flashing red lights – that might look AWESOME!!! hahahha

This year, I bought this 4 foot tall Santa that sings and dances – as if I had the room for more crap! I also bought a rotating Christmas tree stand which only put more pressure on ‘yours truly’ to now decorate ALL sides of the tree! “Why do I do such dumb ass things?” Dr. Wiseass asks herself, once again switching briefly to 3rd person…”I have no damn idea!” she answers back, now wondering if that is just an ADDITIONAL sign of insanity.

((Hey – I just heard – don’t know if it is true – that people with 4 positives on the 31st band of the Western Blot – those people can really have some serious psychological issues. When I heard that, I scrambled to find my test results – quite convinced that I would find 4 stars on that band and therefore have my valid excuse for being the crazy ass pathetic slob that I feel like most days. Alas, my ass only has one positive. Hmmm. Must be another reason? ))


The week between Christmas & New Years was sort of a blur. I honestly can’t remember what I did. I know I did something instead of resting, but I’m really getting nothing in my brain. Hmmm…again.

My neighbor, which I refer to now as my ‘freighbor’ because she’s not just a neighbor but also a friend – invited us over for New Years Eve. This sounded nice to me because we NEVER go out on what I consider to be ‘amateur night’ when all the people that never drink decide to toss back waaay too much to drink and then attempt to operate a motor vehicle…stupid, stupid, stupid….so we usually just stay safely tucked away at home and are usually ready for bed before the ball even drops on the Big Apple.

((By the way, what the hell is so damn exciting about watching a lit up ball drop? I mean – it’s fine to watch on TV – but can you imagine being in Time Square on New Year’s Eve? And for what? You know they are squished in their like a freaking bunch of stinking sardines! What if someone has LD and needs to lie down? What if someone gets sick from throwing back too much of the liquor they have stashed away in their purse or backpack? Where do they puke…or rather on whom do they puke? What if the puker really pisses off the pukee because of it?? I mean – I’d been a little pissed if a stinking damn stranger puked all over my New Year’s Eve hairdoo! And also - what if someone just needs to pee? I can imagine most men just whip it out and pee where they stand because men are generally uncouth when in comes to calls of nature, and simply because I think men enjoy pissing in a variety of places.

But what about the women? Do they just hunker back and squat? Do they pee in their pants because it’s more convenient? Do they test-drive some Depends?? Yeah, I’m sure they have those porta-potties somewhere – but you KNOW that whoever planned the event underestimated how many were needed – and God forbid they divvy it up between “Men” and “Women” as you KNOW they ALWAYS underestimate how many are needed for the women! And that’s some just of the kinds of bullshit you don’t see or hear spoken of on the TV broadcast…because it’s not ‘pretty’. And sure – having all that damn confetti rain down on your puked on pissed on self ‘looks’ fun – but is it really? Did you notice how much confetti there was in the air this year? Is that one of New York City’s attempts to soaking up all the urine and vomit – with the confetti paper? And how many people do you wonder had some kind of choking experience because they accidentally sucked it into their mouth or up their nose? Can someone please explain the appeal of being in Times Square on New Years Eve? I just don’t understand!))

Anyway, I used the party as an excuse to declare a ‘Beauty Day’ with my daughter and we did our own home mani’s and pedi’s (that’s manicures and pedicures for those of you ‘not-in-the-know’) and did facials and even plucked our eyebrows. The eyebrow plucking wasn’t a big deal for me – but my poor little 11 year old that looks like she’s around 14 did not enjoy that experience because she’s got a damn unibrow growing and it was a highly dramatic marathon session to be sure!

By the time I had done all that, taken a long bath - where I somehow PULLED A DAMN GROIN MUSCLE and don’t ask me how I did it; then crimped my hair just for the fun of it; smeared glitter lotion on all my visible parts just because I had it and usually have no other occasion to put glitter on me; and then found my official New Years Eve black feather boa – I was ready for bed.

But I WILLED myself to limp next door and have fun….DAMNIT!

And I actually DID have a blast with all of her friends. We played Guesstures – which is basically a fast-paced game of charades that some clever company came up with so they could make about $30 off of people who are too lazy to come up with their own charade categories. But I laughed so damn hard that my back, my chest, and my stomach all hurt. I had to start shoving pillows all around me for support.

Who knew that laughing could be so damn exhausting??! I know that laughter is good medicine, and I’ve always thought that laughter is superior to antibiotics because it doesn’t make you herx….but little did I know at the time - I was soon to think differently.

About 5 minutes after midnight, hubby dear was walking my fatigued, limping ass home. Yes, Dr. Wiseass was the FIRST to leave a good party….and THAT, ladies and gentlemen, was a FIRST! But I did have to WILL myself to stay that long because I knew I was fading fast. Actually I was a wilted little glitter-covered flower when I arrived, but I did my best to fake it.

The next morning, I woke up with my usual pain & stiffness and my headache that cried out for a cup of coffee, along with some chest wall pain that made me think I was starting the New Year off with a good ol’ heart attack. But then I remembered I laughed too hard, and just tried to relax until that particular pain subsided. I finally hobbled out of bed, still in extreme pain from the groin pull, and I was otherwise quite fine for awhile….for at least a couple of hours. And then…it hit me.

I crashed like I’ve never crashed before. I lied down for a nap, and that was it. My joints all tightened up like the springs on a cheap-ass $5 watch. EVERY inch of me hurt. EVERY-F’ING-INCH OF ME HURT LIKE HELL!

I could barely move. If I did move, I was hit with a wave of nausea from the pain and then I had to lie so still because I knew I was going to start blowing big chunks on MY NEW 500 thread count sheets that I got for Christmas.

Lying there – incapable of moving – thinking very dramatically that ‘this is what it feels like to die…’ I recalled sitting on the beach at Thanksgiving; I recalled that solitude and how I had to transform it from a negative into a positive.

Occasionally rolling from side to side, moaning about my pain and feeling quite sorry for myself I did my best to re-frame that experience into something positive. Initially – I got squat. Zip. Zilch. Nada damn thing. I felt like I was on the verge of death and I was just about to go insane because of it.

I was feeling quite sorry for myself – starting off a new year in that much misery.

Hubby very kindly suggested that this was the ‘crash’ that I had been postponing since Thanksgiving – that everything had caught up with me and that I just needed to rest. And I thought that was a reasonable explanation because that one glass of sparkling wine I had for New Years Eve couldn’t cause anyone this much agony…OK, OK, it was more like two glasses – so bite me! But I knew I wasn’t experiencing a hangover, and what I didn’t initially understand was that I was experiencing not only a ‘crash’ but a toxic overload too.

I finally was able to move enough to dial BB’s number so I could cry into the phone and she could tell me what was happening with me and make suggestions as to what I could do on that fine, New Year’s Day (as we both KNEW I wasn’t going to get help from the ER or my LLMD on that day unless I was actually dying).

What was funny was I told BB that I felt like I was dying. And she said, “You are”. Yes, even BB has a lymebrain, as what I THINK she meant to do was validate that feeling by saying, “Yes, you DO feel like you are dying when you crash hard and suffer from toxic overload.” It’s good that I can read between the lines. And I wanted to laugh about what she said, but I was too busy crying about it first.

I believe I was really in toxic overload, not just because of my New Year’s Eve libations, but because for well over a month I had been over-indulging in activities and sugary desserts. For two months, I had been pushing myself – WILLING myself to take beach vacations, deck my damn halls, and shop til I LITERALLY dropped; along with baking & decorating like a damn Suzy Homemaker regular person…like an HP!!!!

So for the last several days I have been doing Glutathione swishes, drinking drops of Burbur in my water (Burbur is a homeopathic remedy that should never be confused with bourbon, by the way!); drinking lots of lemon water; drinking green teen; taking loads of anti-oxidants; eating bland food that wouldn’t make me puke; and WILLING myself up out of bed to take SHOWERS while sitting on a stool (because I’m apparently too feeble to take baths these days as I might just pull an F’ing muscle!).

During those times when I just couldn’t move, I decided that I should go back and re-count all the blessings that the past 6+ weeks had given to me – allowing me to experience a variety of things – and most importantly, knowing that sometimes I CAN literally WILL myself into enjoying life – into enjoying my family, even if I’m enjoying them from another room – enjoying life even vicariously through the experiences of the people I love.

I reminded myself that there are so many of you out there in the Lyme community who are not at a place physically where you can even WILL yourself to get up and vomit up red holiday decorations all over your home, no matter how enticing that may sound. So I apologize to you, and I want you to know that although I do not know most of your names or stories – I understand some of your pain.

I know there are so many that are in both physical & emotional pain; those without the support of family or friends; those overcoming larger obstacles than even I can wrap my feeble, groin-pulled slob assed lymebrain around…and to you all - I apologize for a year spent wallowing in my own self-pity. GOD WILLING – 2006 will bring YOU greater health, more mobility and freedom, more love, insight, money, strength, and even a sandy beach house if you want one that damn bad.

For those of you who are my fellow pity-party goers, I thank you for sharing this year with me. Thank you for making me feel that my little pity-party was not just a table for one – for making me feel that my written regurgitation made some small difference in your life because it helped you laugh a bit, and it helped you to realize you are NOT alone. Thank you for giving my stupid ass ramblings some kind of purpose.

So I will close this long-ass post today by saying

“Happy New Year to You,
and Happy Anniversary to Me”

Today is January 5th, 2006 – and this is the ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of this, my stupid-ass blog.

As for today - I think I shall live. Granted, I still officially feel like shit, but I trust I’m gonna live, as I am WILLING myself so!

Because this is the beginning of a New Year, I suppose I should make some grand resolution about my writing – to declare that I will WILL myself to write more “consistently” this next year – but shit – I’m feeling grateful that I have enough energy right now to keep a firm grasp on my own damn will to live – so once again my fellow tick-bitten ones – if you don’t like that - then you can just BITE ME!

Hugs & Kisses,
DR Wiseass

PS – If you’d like to leave comments, please note that I am now making it mandatory for you to ‘sign in’. I personally don’t give a shit if you give a real name – I am just fed up with salespeople electronically spamming my damn blog. Have you noticed that shit? That’s ridiculous!

If any of you people want to advertise shit on my blog site then you’re gonna have to pay my ass cause I’m saving up for a beach laptop!

PPS - I know you have all been so curious about how damn beautiful I am - so here I am in all my wiseass glory, flipping my Lyme support group leader off merely because I wanted to hide my triple chins! Try not to drool over me!