No Energy

I am wondering if it's my health or the weather, but I have absolutely no energy today. It's been like this for three days. I wish I could just go to bed. I am not being very productive anyway. Everything is a struggle.

It's pretty gloomy outside. And cold. Very conducive to snuggling down under the covers, but I have things to take care of. Unfortunately, the thing I have been best at lately was procrastination. It's getting to be a real problem. Like last night, when I picked Daughter up from school. We stopped at the grocery store to pick up some staples, and as we were pulling out of the parking lot I realized I had forgotten to buy bread. I was too tired to go back, but I said we would have to go to our local corner store to pick up a loaf. But when we got home, I just kept putting it off. I was so tired. In the end, I never went to buy any and this morning I ended up having to give the boys sandwiches made with hot dog buns for lunch. It's not the end of the world, but I wish my body would keep up with my brain. I just don't have the energy to do anything that is on my mental list.

Dishes are another problem. I have never minded doing the dishes as much as I do now. It seems there is an endless pile of dirty dishes by the sink nowadays. Much as I like to plunge my cold hands into the hot suds, I have a really hard time getting started, and my back usually hurts by the time I am done. I usually don't fully finish. I leave some things in the sink for next time. It is really discouraging.

I am definitely in an energy slump. If I were on a rollercoaster, my cart would be stuck down in a valley, not being able to climb up the first slope to begin the ride. That is how I feel. There has been no change for days, no matter how much pasta or spinach salad I ingest. I'm not writing this to complain. It's more to share the experience, unfortunate though it may be. If you are in a slump and have no energy, you are not alone. I'm with you.

I Must Admit This Weekend Was Both Physically and Emotionally Draining

Besides attending some activities with the children and chauffeuring them to others, I did attempt to clean the apartment a bit and cook too. On Saturday night I really enjoyed it when we all sat down and had fajitas together. Not because of the fajitas, but because everyone was relaxed. Even me.

So Saturday night was a gift, an "up" on my life's rollercoaster. I'm glad that I got to have it, because Saturday afternoon my feelings had been genuinely hurt.

It was Saturday afternoon after Second Son's gymnastics. We had just dropped Daughter off at my sister's and I was driving home with the boys. We had been supposed to stay a while too and plant flowers, but with all the rain we just dropped her off and headed home.

I had packed a small box of crispy rice squares that First Son and I had managed to whip up between that morning's volunteering and the gymnastics. I had meant them as a snack for when we were at my sister's but on the way home Second Son opened the box to have some. I asked him to hand me one too. That was the moment First Son decided he didn't want me to have any. He said, "No! Don't give her any!" in a loud whisper. I told him don't be kidding and reached my hand back so Second Son could place a square in it, and First Son hit his hand away from mine and then hit my hand too.

Understandably, I was upset. "What are you thinking," I asked, "after I helped you make those?"

"I made them myself and you can't have any."

Oh! That nasty voice! Where did that come from?

"I can't believe you said that."

"I made them and you can't have any."

My feelings were so hurt, but I was also angered. I pulled over and asked for the box. I put it in the front seat and drove home. I was hurt, but also fuming. I almost threw the whole batch in the garbage. I bit my tongue to keep from saying something vindictive, like that I would never make anything with him in the kitchen again. (I'm glad I bit my tongue. Saying that would have been a very bad idea!)

What had gotten into him? I felt like a little kid in elementary school, who is excluded from a treat that someone shares at recess. It hurt. And from my own son!

At home, Second Son acted as if nothing had happened. He was about to put on a DVD when I sent him upstairs while I made supper. He eventually came downstairs and hugged me and said that he loved me, but when I said, "And what was that all about," he didn't answer. I was too tired, so I let it go, but I think that was a mistake. I think I should have told him how lousy he made me feel, like I wasn't accepted by my own son. I think I just wanted to avoid guilt-tripping him, but maybe I should have. I really don't think he learned any lesson here, except that it was a-okay to walk all over Mommy's feelings. I think I missed a valuable opportunity to parent, but I was just too drained to act. I still had to go pick Daughter up before supper, and by the time we got home I just wanted everyone at the table before they got so hungry they went looking for snacks for themselves.

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On Sunday, it was Daughter's turn to hurt my feelings. (You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no, it still hurts.)

We were at her cake decorating class at Michael's that afternoon. She had learned to make carnation roses out of gumpaste. A lady was passing around some coloring powder that we could dry brush onto the carnations, and daughter decided she wanted to try it out. She brushed the powder on, but onto the whole petal, whereas the lady had showed us just to brush the petal edges. I told daughter this and she said she didn't see the difference, so I took another carnation rose that she had made so I could show her. About a second after I started applying the powder to the petal edges, she all but grabbed the flower out of my hand. "Don't do that," she said! I was very taken aback by her the tone and volume of her voice. I said, "What? I can't try just one flower?" "No," came the reply! Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I couldn't believe it. She had such a nasty look on her face and she set her teeth and worked on doggedly with her gumpaste. Needless to say, my feelings were really hurt. I mean, forget about the fact that she was at her third cake decorating class, after I had paid for her Basic and Tall Cakes classes, and now this one. Forget about the fact that I paid for all her materials. What about the fact that I took her to each and every one of those classes, a good half-hour's drive from our house, to spend time with her and try to give her a go at something that interests her? I mean, it isn't cheap and it is very time-consuming and I just sit there and watch what she does most of the time. This is how she thanks me? I can't remember the last time I felt so frustrated! -oh! yes I do: the day before, with Second Son.

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You know, I am not one of those people who seek attention and gratitude for every little thing. But once in a while, a kind gesture would be nice. With both of my kids this weekend, I felt hurt, and that pain knocked any parenting skills I might have clear out of me. If the children had acted in the opposite way, I would be posting now about how proud I am of them, of their generosity and goodwill. Instead, I am just sitting here so disappointed.

Again, it comes down to this: why am I unable to transmit my values of love and generosity (and thankfulness!) to my children. I feel like a complete failure.

Take what lessons you will from this post. I'm off to bed.

Insomnia

Why is it some people can't drag themselves out of bed in the morning, while others are unable, despite an in credible amount of fatigue, to fall asleep? How is it that I can program myself to get out of bed every morning at six am and make three school lunches (a chore that I dislike with a passion), but I can't program my brain to shut down for the night and let me rest? And believe me, I am tired.

Today was a very long, full day. Daughter and I even managed to squeeze in that appointment with the social worker that hadn't taken place last week due to a mixup about location. We finally had our first talk together with the social worker. (Whereas before, she had taken appointments with us, but separately.) Believe me, today's meeting was no picnic. we both came away with tear-stained eyes. I have had a headache since, I cried so hard. Now, all three children are asleep, even First Son, surprise! surprise! But I can't get any shut-eye.

Is it Daughter's ever-looming departure to go live with her dad that is keeping me awake?

Am I just too tired to sleep? Does that even make any sense?

It's probably some stressful issue that is gnawing at me. Lord knows I have enough of those! What will happen to my kids if I don't get back to normal health? What if I can never work full-time? What if I can't even find part-time work? What if I don't get accepted to the university of my choice? What about my finances? When am I ever going to get this place cleaned up? The kids have been home sick and the laundry has been piling up. I have to pick up the floor so I can vacuum. Groceries need to be done, but I keep procrastinating about that because I'm too tired to deal with it.

I've been considering starting a whole other blog to devote to matters of the heart, because that is an area I have completely neglected in my inventory of needs. This blog is about life with the kids, but somewhere along the way I am also going to have to sift through all the trash that has accumulated over the past 18 years or so, during which I have progressively lost or stifled my own identity - who I am, who I want to be, how I want to be.

Last night for the third time, (perhaps yesterday morning would be a more accurate description, since this happened at around 1:30 am), I asked someone to stay out of my life once and for all. It seems to be part of my annual spring cleaning. The ironic thing is that every time we establish contact again, it is I who initiate it. I am more than willing to admit that I am messed up. Agonizing over that is probably what has kept me awake past two am for the past three nights. It would be so good to sleep!

I am rather frustrated by the fact that one can program one's mind to wake up five minutes before the alarm clock goes off - I have done it myself, and have witnessed it second-hand from many of my students - yet I am unable to tell my brain to go to sleep for a few hours, on a schedule. What happened to all my yoga training? Clear your mind and all that...

I have no miracle cure for insomnia. But I am really tired. Perhaps this bit of typing has tipped the scales sufficiently to allow me to finally go to sleep when I get back to bed. I am nodding off in front of the computer. It think the trick will be to get back to bed without waking up again completely.

Please forgive me any type-o that may have slipped into this post. I'll come back tomorrow to proof-read. My eyes are having trouble staying open at this point. Hopefully that's a good sign...

Hopefully I can get some zzzz's now, or at least soon. I usually need at least nine hours of sleep to be fully rested. Tomorrow's gonna be a killer day on less than six. *sigh*

It's 12:17 am here. Wish me luck.

Health Care (Rant)

Daughter has been sick for five days. She is coughing and her throat hurts. After having tried numerous medicines, syrups, soups, teas, supplements and of course lots of sleep, she is still no better. I think it is time to admit defeat. It is time to take her to see a doctor. Easier said than done, even here in what is supposedly the "best country in the world."

Daughter doesn't have a doctor. That means that when she gets sick, we have to go over our options, none of which are very practical.

Most orphans (people who don't have family doctors) go to the Emergency Room (ER) when they get sick. There, a person can wait anywhere from 12 to over 24 hours to see a doctor, on a good day. On a bad day, you would add about an hour or so of wait time every time you see an ambulance pull up. But you can't even complain about this. The ER staff are doing the best that they can with their limited resources. And, let's face it, a sore throat is at the bottom of the list when people with heart attacks, broken arms, allergy attacks, overdoses and other serious emergency situations are also waiting. So, the ER is not the option of choice for someone who is "just sick."

The second option is to go to a walk-in clinic. There are several of these in our city, but I have never had much luck with them. In order to be seen by a doctor, one has to get there and stand in line super early. Whenever I have attempted it, by the time I got to the clinic I was told that the waiting list was full for the day. So a walk-in clinic is a doable option when people are able to get in line before 7 am, but I usually have three kids to drop off at school before I am free to queue. With Daughter sick, the earliest we can drop the boys off at school is 7 am, so I think the clinic option is out. We won't even attempt it.

Option number three is to go to a clinic in Ontario, where our Québec health insurance card is not accepted so we have to pay up-front, but we do get a partial refund from Québec if we send in our receipt and the proper forms. Also, the wait time is measured in few hours, giving us the hope that we will be in and out before the boys' after school care closes at 5:45. I have gone this route before. It was handy once when I had an ear infection and needed antibiotics. But the second time I went in, complaining of shortness of breath, coughing, fever and generally feeling icky, the doctor sent me home and told me to get plenty of rest and fluids. Four days later I was in the ER with a severe pneumonia that kept me hospitalized for ten days, followed by months of convalescence. So I vowed never to go to one of those clinics again. The doctor never even listened to my lungs. He just wanted me in and out as quickly as possible so he could collect my $65 and go on to the next patient. I want Daughter to have better care than that, so that clinic is out of the question. (I should mention that I don't think all Ontario clinics are this bad, but the ones I have access to - the Appletree Medical Center group - are more about profits than they are about health care, in my opinion.)

The last option, which is the one I finally opted for when I had that very severe pneumonia, is the one that I choose today for Daughter. We will go to an ER, but not here in Gatineau, where all the hospitals have notoriously long waiting lists. Instead, I will drive Daughter 30 minutes out of town to the city of Wakefield, where there is a small regional hospital whose staff took very good care of me when I was sick. If we are lucky, we will only have to wait a few hours before Daughter gets seen.

There has been debate in Canada about privatizing health care, while in the US they have moved in the opposite direction, offering free health care to low-income people who can't afford the private facilities. As far as I am concerned, I can't rely on our government to give my family free health care. The only reason I have a doctor is that the hospital got me one (helping me circumvent the usual waiting lists) because they simply couldn't discharge me without assuring me some follow-up care. And the doctor I got, although he does more or less follow my progress, won't agree to treat my daughter.

If I could afford to, I would go to a private doctor's clinic. I wouldn't mind paying extra for quality care. I understand that doctors would rather work in private clinics than go to work in public ones for less pay and even worse working conditions. The problem is, I am low-income and I can't afford to take my kids to a private clinic. And, frankly, I shouldn't have to. We have free health care in Canada. We just don't have enough of it. I wish we had political leaders who are able to better prioritize what is needed. The Canadian public service is facing huge budget cuts right now. In my humble opinion, nothing is going to result from these layoffs except more unemployed public servants. I really doubt it will make a difference in the long run. Then the government will use unemployment as a reason to not invest in health care, because the funds will be needed to create jobs. I am just one little person. I am not a politician. I do vote, but honestly I wonder if we will ever climb out of this hole our health care services are in. In my opinion, we won't get anywhere while our politicians' decisions are based on influential big corporations' "needs."

Rant over. Forgive me. I just had to let my frustration out somewhere. It is a terrible feeling to feel so helpless in trying to get my daughter in to see a doctor. And I live in Canada, a country that touts itself as "the best in the world." I truly feel for people in third-world countries who do not have access to health care. I remain convinced that in Canada this is all a question of priorities.

My Mind Is Messing With Me

A very strange morning I had today, but all's well that ends well.

Last night I had the strangest dream. I was taking an entrance exam to get into university, and one of the questions was a number line with empty spaces where I had to fill in the numbers. I kept writing the numbers so messily that they weren't recognizable so I had to erase them and that only created nasty smudges so in the end nothing was visible. I was given a blank sheet of paper and a ruler and was told to copy down the question and complete it on the new paper. The ruler was wooden and it was warped from having been soaked in water so I couldn't make a straight line. Then I had trouble copying the numbers that were already given in the question onto my paper. I was really stressed and frustrated and in the end time was up and I didn't complete the exam. Strangely, I woke up wondering if I would still be accepted based on the answers I had provided for the other questions. Weird.

I didn't have much time to dwell on the dream because it was time to get up and make lunches. Daughter and I had an appointment at 9:00 so I walked to the end of our street, where the boys go to school, then us girls took our time getting ready to leave. We arrived at the CLSC for 9:00 and the receptionist took our names. We waited in the waiting room for the social worker to come down for us. The wait was rather long. Finally, I asked the receptionist if the social worker would be coming down soon. She said she had left her a message on her phone. This is where I started getting worried. Left her a message? She hadn't picked up? Wasn't she waiting for us?

At first I thought perhaps she was late getting to work, but as over twenty minutes went by, I was getting more and more upset. I started thinking that maybe I had come on the wrong day, or at the wrong time. It's no secret that I have memory problems thanks to the medications I am taking. Did I get mixed up? Was my mind messing with me? As I sat there waiting, I was wracking my brain trying to remember if perhaps the appointment hadn't been for this afternoon. I almost convinced myself that it HAD been for the afternoon. The social worker must be out on a call... Maybe she had an emergency...

At 9:30 we decided to leave. I dropped Daughter off at school and headed home. The first thing I did was check the calendar. I hadn't made a mistake. It said, "9 am at the CLSC." A wave of relief washed over me. I had been so worried that my brain had quit on me again, but it hadn't! I didn't know why the social worker hadn't been there. Perhaps she really did have an emergency that she had to go to. She has plenty of other cases besides ours, and I'll bet most of them aren't like ours, with a mother and daughter sharing a difficult relationship.  Some of them are surely cases of family abuse and other such terrible problems. All in all, I feel lucky. Even though our problem is very real and very hard on both of us, I have hope that we will eventually gets past it. Granted, it is very hard for us to communicate. I feel really rejected by Daughter and she feels so much anger at me for having "ripped the family apart." This is exactly what we had been hoping to work on this morning. It didn't happen, but it will.

A nice little surprise was waiting for me when I turned the computer on a little later. It doesn't quite make up for the stressful morning, but it is a bit of good news at least: I have been accepted to l'Université du Québec en Outaouais in their translation and writing program. Yaay! As I have mentioned before, I really would rather like to go to the University of Ottawa because theirs is only a two-year program, but if by any chance I don't get accepted, at least I can go to l'Université du Québec en Outaouais and still become a translator, even if it takes me three years to do it. 

The timing of this university acceptance makes me wonder about my dream last night. Either my mind is messing with me or it's a weird coincidence, don't you think?