I’ve turned into a hermit. It’s gorgeous out, but we’re all inside listening to adventure music. Folding laundry is so much more dramatic to the “Dances With Wolves” soundtrack. Seamus killed a chipmunk and two mice this morning in a matter of 20 minutes so even he’s on house-arrest now, much to the kitten’s delight. Lexi wants to go to the pool. Quinn wants to write. I just feel worried about the heat. And that we’re going somewhere even hotter in two days.
I’m also coming down from the coconut dream ice cream/Nature’s Bakery cookie pack/Menchie’s diet. Feeling mean.
I have the energy to take them somewhere, a very refreshing thing, but we stay. It’s only the first week of summer anyway, and Lexi needs a lot more unstructured time more than she needs an activities director.
I got up at 5:45 to run, and instead sat, cold and half-asleep on the sofa draped with all the baby blankets I’m trying to get rid of. I sweat through my sheets every night. It’s been a problem off and on for years now, and I just can’t get it right–the room temperature or the blankets or the pajamas. So I wake up wet, and tired and cold and uninspired to do anything.
Tried FitMoms this morning and so pleased the kids are on board this year instead of threatening mutiny. But… I couldn’t do it. Both my legs cramped up while I was pushing weighted mats around, (probably from spin class yesterday morning, that one stupid “slide” part of class that you’ve probably seen from a Romy & Michelle trailer.) And my left arm and right hand went numb too, so I was done. Ten minutes of class and too hot to continue. Frustrated. Sad.
Tried out my Arctic Heat ice vest this afternoon. Meh. 80F and humid meant it only worked for 20 minutes. And I was just walking around, cleaning out the van. I’ll try it in the ice-slush next time, but simply freezing the activated vest didn’t do it. Won’t do it for class or a run. Disappointed.
And that is why we are sitting around inside. Well, why I am, anyway. The youngest one is waiting for someone to entertain her and the older one is cataloging creatures from the Mesozoic.
I read ActiveMS founder Dave’s blog today. He talks about the first time he gave himself a (MS medication) shot. (He fainted.) And it’s funny and light, but today marks two months until the deadline I’ve set for myself to start injections myself. Because of the ghost leaving tracks in my brain. I got my MRI results last week. I have one new silent lesion in addition to the two I already have. (What do you call the non-silent ones? Raucous?) Well, the radiologist says there’s one on the edge of my cerebellum. The neurologist can’t see it. I get to look for myself early August. So, when I got the news, it had been a few weeks since my MRI, I wasn’t expecting anything, and I was stunned. I played Spider Solitaire for two days straight. I did nothing. I told Guy and no one else. I thought about what the next lesion might attack–my vision? My balance? My ability to not pee my pants? My ability to pick up my child with a scraped knee? And I decided I was ready to give myself injections three times a week, if not more. Although, I get a pass until my appointment, the one set up deliberately after my triathlon, in August. Ah, the triathlon I’m too hot to train for two-thirds of right now.
I had to unplug from social media, although it’s only been a couple of hours, so we’ll see how it goes…but I just can’t stomach any more news. And I just can’t stop checking. Hence, the declaration. No more details about the heart-wrenching Pulse attack and the horrors that happened there. No more politics about gun control and how much money and influence the NRA has. No more about how people have so profoundly failed each other. No more poignant reminders about MS. Not even any more summer photography challenges that show you how much you’re missing. But I don’t know how to disconnect. Social media was my lifeline for all those years in the weeds with two littles. Now it’s my addiction, my spider thread to the outside world. And it’s getting in the way. I needed a break and I’m getting a broken heart.
Hell, I can give that up. And ice cream substitutes at the same time. No problem (she said with false bravado.) Besides, I’ve been typing this up and the result is the same for the kids, this only-sometimes-responsive, crabby, adult sitting on a sofa, staring at a screen. Does that mean no more GG Chronicles? Maybe. Baby steps. I’ll start with Facebook and Twitter. I’ve got to be done there. My gut feeling is to go cold turkey until after August 15th. I don’t know how I’ll keep in touch with my tri team, but I’ll probably cave and go back on before that’s a problem anyway.
Anyway, here’s to best of luck to me, and to all of you. I’m not feeling brave, but I like moving forward. Have great summers. Go, do, be. Be with the kids. Soak in the summer in an ice bath if you have to. You’ll have all winter to clean the house once they’re back in school and you have nothing to train for anyway. I booted the kids outside with a bag of cherries, and I think they need some help eating them.