Now I can focus on things I really want to do…. finally. Our own business is finally starting to take flight. I really hope we can go far with it because I know it’s something DH absolutely loves to do and what better to make a career out of than your passion?

RIP Michael Jackson and everyone else we have lost in these past 2 weeks. It’s been really crazy in the news.

Hi.

I updated WordPress and I’m not really seeing a difference but of course that could be just me.

I am feeling SO much better its kind of like I have been cured without doing anything. I still have headaches and the occasional case of dizziness but other than that I am feeling pretty damn decent.

Home life is actually on the rise. The firing of DH hasn’t been too bad because he got to collect unemployment and then I was able to start my lifelong dream of owning a business. I am now the proud owner of [FILL IN BUSINESS NAME HERE]! I have a pretty logo and everything!  Plus because I am a minority in the eyes of Texas, they consider me to be a Historically Underutilized Business. I am not sure who came up with that nonsense, but it sounds all kinds of wrong.

Anyway, so far it’s coming together rather nicely so hopefully it will take off and by next year I will be a semi millionaire drinking margaritas with my mother by my pool in my brand new house.

Meanwhile, back in the land of reality I am still working at the same old place¹ that has been giving me nightmares. As usual it’s not the job that is causing me the nightmares but the people. I really don’t know what it is about a post office that causes people to leave their brains at home, but damn. More now than ever we get people who show up with items in hand, no address, no boxes and then look at us like we are crazy when we tell them we can’t help them.²

I am like 35 years old or something, and as far back as I can recall when my mother went to the post office her letters were sealed with a stamp on it UNLESS she was there to purchase new stamps because she overlooked the fact that she was on her last few. I grew up doing the same thing. The post office was a place for me to drop off letters. It was never a packing place. I never rolled into it with a bag of items looking for a box, and free tape and free labels. Hell, I never recall them offering ANY of that. The line was long so that we could pay for the postage on the already packed up boxes or add little extras to our envelopes.

I know I have touched on this 100 time before, but it really blows my mind. And as I have said before, my face holds no secrets. When I feel someone is being an idiot, my facial expression will reveal it long before I have a chance to utter the words ‘You are a [bleeeeeeeeep] moron!’

And oh… before I go. Postage rates are now 44 cents. They went up on May 11th from 42 cents. Next year they will more than likely go up again. If you own Forever Stamps (the liberty bells) you do not need to ever add additional postage.  Ever.³

Thank you.

1. rumor has it come Friday I won’t have a job anymore so lets see how that goes
2. And go figure as I am writing this someone walks in and does this exact same thing. Wants to send his crap across the country and expects us to give him a free box and then ADDRESS THE LABEL FOR HIM!
3. Unless you are sending something international.

And I really can blame no one but myself.

I finally am feeling semi-normal. I’m sleeping for most of the night… a lot less sweaty outbreaks and I am really thankful for that.

But more importantly I haven’t had a major headache in weeks. Maybe it’s because I have a new awareness of what’s wrong and I know how to control it all a little better…. who knows.

In other areas of life, DH is still unemployed. He was loving his mini-vacation at first, but now he’s getting restless. This economy suuuucks.

Well, that’s it for now. I really do intend to stick to my word and write more often but I am just taking complete advantage of how well I am feeling right now.

I miss you girls (and guys)!

And to you old lady, no, I don’t give a damn that you don’t like the “ugly stamps” we offer. Does this mean I now have a right to complain about your ugly attitude? Is it fair that the general public has to deal with your crap? How about you go online and order them so that you will never again have to be annoyed with my ugly stamps or anyone else for that matter.

Moving on to Miss Thang with the Coach bag and Fendi pants… I saw you steal that card. I watched you try to be all sneaky about it as you grabbed it, filled it out and stuck a stamp on it like you had walked in with it. And of course when confronted you played stupid and tried to make me look like a liar. What happened? Rich Daddy BigBucks didn’t give you an allowance this week? Next time, go steal some shit from Hallmark.

And last but not least, Big Mister Black Man… just because we share the same color and a little of the same history does not mean I am willing to lose my job because you are cheap. Got it?

There’s always going to be another mountain
I’m always going to want to make it move
Always going to be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I’m gonna to have to lose,
Ain’t about how fast I get there,
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb

I figure it’s about time I get rid of the ginormous pink elephant in the middle of the room.  As much as I love the color pink and I think elephants are cute, I don’t really think they are meant to be put together.

The question I get asked most these days is “Is everything OK?” and to be quite honest, yes it is. I am actually as OK as I think I could possibly be under the circumstances. I went through a period of time where I was really really angry and wanted to go back to each doctor I previously had seen and give them each a swift kick in the nether region. And of course, eventually anger brought me peace because I was finally relieved to know what the hell was going on.

As much as aspects of my life suck right now, I am embracing that relief like a security blanket because before, when I was dizzy and wanted to puke, it was a mystery. Now… I know what it is and I can deal with it.

It only took about 12 years to get an answer.

I have lost count of how many idiot doctors I have visited.

My favorite ‘medical professional’ was some freak in New Mexico. He was a neurologist who I was sent to to figure out the cause of my frequent and often intolerable headaches. When I arrived at his office, he had me completely disrobe to put on a too-small gown and sit on a very dirty looking table. His breath was so fowl it made my stomach churn.. and his examination included him groping my breasts, tapping my knees and elbows and rubbing my shoulders. He then determined from that that I had migraines. He wrote me out a prescription and sent me home.

Sadly, most of the other doctors weren’t much better.

Finally, I spoke to a nurse practitioner one morning after having a headache that had me in tears. I described to her all of my symptoms. I went down my usual list of symptoms:  headaches, dizziness, vertigo, pain in my face, sleep apnea, muscle weakness and countless other things.

Before I could even finish telling her everything she said to me, “have you ever heard of chiari malformation… because I think that’s what you have.”

I had to stop for a moment and gather my thoughts because I was so used to people breaking down the symptoms, trying to fix me in tiny pieces… the amount of meds in my cabinet are out of control… and there it was finally, a NAME that I could associate with everything. FINALLY!

I don’t understand what took so long.

THAT pisses me off more than anything. Slowly, my life had come to a screeching halt because to do anything usually resulted in me having to head home early or cancel plans.  I am sure it pissed everyone else off to always have to deal with me not being close to useless.

Anyway, Chiari Malformation is complicated. It’s a brain disorder. It’s rare. It’s incurable.

I can have surgery to relieve some of the pressure but it doesn’t always work, and there is the slight chance things could get worse. Without surgery the alternative choice is to have a shunt placed or be on medication for the rest of my life.

Soooooooooo, that’s where I am at.

I am happy. Pissed off. Content. Wanting to nutpunch old doctors. But happy. Because honestly…. life could be worse.

It could be a lot worse.

I don’t want to make this a blog about me being ill cause that would be too depressing. Or would it?

Who am I kidding… I have so much to say that so not related to whats happening now and so I just need to get over myself and get back to blogging full time. I miss it a lot. I miss all of you sooooooo consider me back.

Even if it’s a quick blurb, I will post at least 3 times a week from now on

I appreciate all this support more than words can even expresss.

I don’t even know.

But I can tell you that I am alive… and still kicking.

Being me.

The only thing different now is that after 10 years and counting of not knowing what was causing me to feel like I had no control over my life, I finally have answers.

What turned out to be so simple for others to figure out… and for me to google and confirm… remained a mystery to every idiot doctor I have spoken to over the past decade.

And now we know.

I have a brain disorder.

Uncurable.

But treatable.

So the circus once again begins for me to demand treatement to make me feel better.

To once again live with some control.

And even though I am angry… I am livid… I am pissed because I was forced to suffer because my doctor’s were too lazy… I am so relieved to at least know something.

I guess that’s where I have been…

Surrendering to my fate.

Accepting what this is.

Finally seeing life for what it can be.

And I have to admit… I’m liking what I am seeing so far.

DH and his posse are off in DC taking in the sites and being a part of history. And while all that is awesome, and a teenie tiny bit of me is jealous, I know I’m in the right place. The push of the crowds and the annoyances of being surrounded by all those people in such cold weather would have me in a mood from hell.

Instead I will watch it all from the comfort of my home, live, thanks to the people at hulu.

I wonder what else they will be broadcasting live in the future that will make this whole post make absolutely no sense whatsoever….

This was an actual customer... A man. Yes.

Just the other day as I was sitting in the office minding my own business, the gentlemen who owns the beautiful hands pictured above meandered in to mail his taxes. He was very tall, and dirty – obviously. He told me he was a mechanic and having a rough day at work. The above picture doesn’t do enough justice to the repulsiveness I felt … in fact, his hands look good in that picture.  His hidden hand was even more disgusting… Long, jagged, broken, grime covered nails that he didn’t mind rubbing all over his face as he dealt with the frustration of filling out the very complicated Express Mail form.

As he was standing before me, he began to tell me that he was doing this favor for his wife. Yes… his wife. He said they had been married for 25 years!  He touches someone with those hands… and yeah I am shallow.. so what! But let me be clear any man of mine would need to soak those bad boys in some Clorox² before even reaching in my direction.

I figured that I needed to somehow forever capture this moment, so I snuck behind the counter, grabbed my camera and secretly took a picture of his hands. I didn’t want to get caught so I only took one… I wish I had gotten a better shot though.

Over the years I have had my fair share of interesting customers, and this one definitely fits into my top five. He is somewhere intermingled in with:

1. The lady who brought in her poop in a clear zip lock bag to the Dr.’s office I was working at.
2. The man who came to the Dr.’s office covered in, and reeking of cow manure and expected me to LET HIM see the Dr.
3. The psycho man who felt the need to screeeaaaam at me because his prescription for Viagra was not ready.
4. The moron who decided it was worth arguing with me because I refused to charge his credit card for 42 cents.
5. The poor lady with the dangling booger who I still feel really bad for letting her leave the office with it still hanging in her nose.

After he left, I hosed myself down with some anti-bacterial gel, I promptly made an appointment to get my nails done. I was tempted to check his letter for an address and send him a gift certificate for his own manicure. But then I realized not even I was so cruel as to torture a nail tech with that job.

1. ”nooo wire haannngaaahhhs” crazy to be exact
2. not to mention some heavy duty toe nail clippers