Weebles Wobble…

Stupid things.  Nothing reduces this mother of five to a state of such intense aggravation as Weebles.  Is it a control issue, perhaps?  Are they merely mocking my OCD by creating the appearance of falling down, but, in fact, they know full well they will not…or, more precisely, that they cannot??

I need therapy.

So.  Why did Weebles pop into my head as of late?

Because I’m a goddamned Weeble.  The nemesis of my all-things-OCD.  It all comes down to this:  I am the very thing I curse.

[enter quizzical look, stage left]

I don’t fall down.

Ever.

I desperately WANT to fall down.

Dude, I’m talking about the stress of managing the chaos of my reality within the structure of my made-for-tv-movie kinda life.

It has come to my attention, through observation of other chronically ill individuals on various media, that by the very definition of being “chronically ill”….well….I just don’t fit the bill, do I.

Do I?

There are days where I cannot get out of bed in the morning.  But I do.  Honestly? I’ve no idea how I do it…perhaps it’s because I tell myself that it’s simply not an option to stay there?  Nix the “I tell myself”…bullshit.  I simply, absolutely HAVE to get out of bed in the morning. *shrug*  I press the shampoo bottle against my hip to make the pressure necessary to get a hit of soap because I can’t get my wrists moving.  I still open cans of tomatoes for spaghetti sauce in tears because my hands hurt SO badly.  Sometimes, when no one’s looking…I quasi-crawl up the stairs because my legs burn so bad and my knees feel like they’re going to implode.

ADD:  On any given day, I feel like Mr. Burns.  Not the greedy, maniacal Mr. Burns…but the “peace and love” spaced-out high-as-a-kite Mr. Burns…Every. Damn. Day.  Why? Well, because I take so much medication that reacts with the other medications and then those medications react with the natural occurring chemicals running through my brain which THEN reacts with the cleaning products I use to clean out The Vent….

*takes a breath*

[enter brief story about The Vent, stage right]

Thing 2 was on the upstairs toilet when it overflowed (due to a toothbrush having previously unknowingly been flushed down said toilet).  Thing 2 develops a total meltdown-worthy fear of said toilet. Thing 2 starts doing his “deed” on the floor.  Thing 2 progressed to taking a shit in the floor vent in his room.  

I digress.

How do I function.  How do I manage to clean shit out of floor vents while in the throes of a flare so bad it hurts to wipe my own ass.  How do I scrub floors and make beds and do laundry and remember whose library day is on what day….

I don’t know.  And it angers me greatly sometimes because I feel like I was voted off the “I can’t get out of bed” bandwagon in this reality series game I never even signed up for.

Does that mean I *want* to not be able to get out of bed?  No.  Does that mean I *want* to stay in bed?  No.  But when you get to the point where your body, mind and soul are screaming repeatedly, “PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!” …sometimes?  Sometimes I want to FALL.  DOWN.

Stupid Weebles.  Oh how they mock me…

My adjustment to solo-day’ing it is also pretty slow going.  I have not had this much collective anxiety in months.  Why?  I.  Don’t.  Know.  All I know is that I keep pushing my limits and boundaries of my physical well-being by keeping a level of movement constant with that of someone who is NOT afflicted with eleventy-billion health issues…*breath*…Someone who can wear an “Awareness” shirt every day of the week should NOT be functioning at the level at which I do…

At some point…I MUST fall down.

I need therapy.

But you know what it also shows me?  That I can do what I do, endure what I endure…and that I am constantly amazing myself by blowing the limits of my afflictions and exceeding my personal expectations.  No, I can’t be an idiot about it…if I need to nap, to sleep, to rest…I need to damn well make it happen.

But the Weebles are enduring…persistent…stubborn…

My next task is going to be a re-vamp of the Mega Meal Plan awesomeness that I’d created back before school started…three months of weeknight dinners…all up on my calendar…all freakin’ FRABJOUS in structure.

Or so I thought.

Lesson 1:  Do not make Football Sunday chili day, then proceed to “book” a ground hamburger meal for Mondays.  I don’t know how that happened, exactly…but it did.  Multiple times.

Lesson 2:  Diabetic recipes don’t always work when  you fudge the portion size.  I might have done that.  *shifty eyes*

Lesson 3:  Making a meal plan with ONLY new recipes is NOT a money saver on your grocery bill.  Again, don’t know exactly why, but I attribute it to that you don’t always have everything on-hand, perhaps.  I need to go back and add the simple, go-to meals.

Lesson 4:  Account for leftovers.  I didn’t double the recipes, but some of them do add more volume, and there’s not always the opportunity to eat it for lunch.  Freeze it in a small container for another lunch at another time.

Lesson 5: Overall?  It kicks ass.  Sure, I might fudge the “recipe”, per se…if it was a chicken dish, but I really just want something simple…at least I know we’re having chicken that night.  Oddly enough, there’s fish listed once a week.  I think, since the Mega Meal Plan inception…we’ve had fish once.  Huhn.  Weird.

Lesson 5.1:  Not a single one of the recipes called for Turmeric.  Just sayin’. ;o)

So, now I’m gearing to look at the next set of meal plans to be on the “budget-friendly” scale…and modify it accordingly to be diabetic friendly.  Stay tuned.

Oh yes!  I’m getting married next week.  I do not want Weebles.  Just puttin’ it out there…

That being said, if the Weebles could get it on with the Pez…that could pop out both pills AND Pez AND never fall off the coffee table…well… ;o)

2 responses to “Weebles Wobble…

  1. When people say to me “I don’t know how you do it” or “wow, I am surprised you get out of bed” I swear my mind goes blank and I just stare at them. Because is there another option? I mean if I didn’t “do it”, if I didn’t get up everyday even when it feels like dragging myself out of a coma…. yeah, its like I am reading something in greek. It is right there in front of me but my brain can’t even begin to make sense of it.

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