A Big Week for Death

I've got a case of the fuckity funks. It started Friday. I was having a most unremarkable and mostly mediocre Friday. It was nearly over when I got word that Death had been at it again. This time he claimed my acupuncturist.

No. No it's not, Death.

Like most healers, she did not let on to me or other clients that she had been living with cancer. I knew something had been off the last few times I had seen her this fall before my surgery, but she's human. We all have rough patches. I had no idea how rough it had been though for her. She was only 60 and she had led a very full life. She always wanted to know what I was reading as she loved books. The last time I was in, we shared our favorites of the Janet Evanovich series. We agreed that when we were looking for light and fun, she fit the bill. I always appreciated how easy it was to get in to see her for an appointment and she never rushed me. She'd let me steep for little longer if I thought I needed it. I may not have held with some of her theories on healing like angels and muscle testing, but when she'd use those little electrodes on my needles, I felt so much better afterward. I just sat for what felt like an eternity and stared at the wall after hearing the news of her death. It hit harder than I would've thought honestly. I suppose though it's been a rough year of deaths, so this just stirred up all that grief that had been hanging out in my head, layin' low. Just sitting there waiting for a little nod to set it into action. News of her death was a true shock, but it wasn't the last one of the day.

Surprise! We've got more "Fuck you!" in store for your day.

That evening at dinner, my sister told me that my favorite math teacher had died. He was 90, which seemed unreal to me. He retired two years after I graduated, but he didn't stop teaching. He still volunteered at one of the middle schools here in town. One of my friends on Facebook said she felt that he hated her class. I'm trying to recall if I was in her trig class or not because I honestly don't remember things the same way she did. As a teacher, I know there are certain class periods that can be challenging for any number of reasons, but I don't think I have ever felt that I hated a class or that a teacher hated my class. I can't for my life feature this man hating a class either, but maybe there was something in play that I wasn't privy to. I do know that I got through Alg II/Trig because of the man. I also transferred to his geometry class the year before because the teacher I had before him essentially called a room full of honors students stupid. I'm sure he didn't see it that way, but I was an A/B student. I looked around and saw at least ten students I knew who were perennial 4.0 material. Even this jackass I don't think hated our class. After that, I transferred teachers and passed geometry with an A and then Alg II/Trig with a B. I would've totally failed trig if this man hadn't been willing to let me go over my  bombed tests with him. When it was just us after school, I could talk through the problem and work it on the board without the pressure of a test. I always did better in that format. Because he took the time, I learned to identify how my anxiety was impacting my education. In college, my professor noticed it, too. I told him about how I got through trig and he willingly let me do the same thing on my exams for his class. I am forever grateful for what this teacher did for me, and it saddens me that anyone feels he could ever have hated them. I can't help but hope I never made any of my classes feel that way.  Of course, Death wasn't done yet.

Oh yes. Just one more.

Last night I learned that one of the regular customers at the Greek restaurant where I belly dance also died. We knew he hadn't been well for a long time, but he and his wife along with another couple loved to come to the restaurant and watch. They teased us, praised us, tipped well, and supported our efforts at the restaurant and at community performances. I feel for his wife and his friends. They were always getting ready for some adventure somewhere. I recall thinking one time that when I was in my 80s I wanted to live such a rich life.  

Time for Death to take a vacation.

I know many people this week are mourning celebrities like Prince and Doris Roberts among so many others. However, as shocking as their deaths have been, it's the ones that hit closer to home that have me in a fuckity funk. The weather's not helping either as it's rainy and overcast. I've been really missing Mary, and Poofus, and my grandparents. Somehow though I'm supposed to be prepping a shimmy performance for this eight-week session. Maybe getting my tookus off the sofa and practicing some shimmies will help me shuffle off this mortal toil. Maybe a particularly zealous washing machine shimmy will shake me loose from the fuckity funks and set me free. Maybe. Maybe not. I should try though--for Marian and Rudi and Sam.

Apparently Death can shake it. So can I.

Oral Fixations

I used to have terrible nightmares that my teeth were loose and falling out. I haven't had one of those in a while thank goodness. I used to think I was just terrified about losing my teeth, but then I began reading about interpretation of such recurrent dreams. I realized that I had even larger issues to resolve. If you're not familiar with teeth dreams, they can relate to everything from money, to embarrassment, to lack of power issues. All sorts of connections depending on what is going on in your life at the time. I think mine usually had to do with anxiety and not speaking up for myself. As I said though, I haven't had one of those dreams in a while. I do however, worry about losing my teeth still.

Losing teeth as a kid was way more fun.

A major reason I worry about losing them is due to my grinding. I am awful with the TMJ and the bruxism. Even with all my relaxation techniques and whatnot, I still grind. I am better about not clenching during the day now so my dentist no longer suggests that I wear my bite splint during the day, but my clenching and grinding has cost me some teeth. I have lost one altogether and I have several others that are repaired to the max with fillings and crowns. Since I cannot seem to stop the bruxism entirely, I resign myself to the knowledge that I may lose more teeth to breakage, cracks, and chips.

Yup. That'll be my gums when my teeth are gone.

I also have lupus and Sjogren's. While lupus itself is not associated with teeth trouble, some medications for lupus can make dental health worrisome. People with lupus like myself often get mouth ulcers or recurrent canker sores, or ulcerated and cracked spots on the corners of our mouths. The fun ones are the weird blisters that don't hurt, but then you randomly run your tongue over one and it explodes liquid into your mouth. Gross. I know.

Even Buffy can't take it.

The Sjogren's though dries out the mouth so much that cavities become a real problem. Even with brushing, flossing, and rinsing, tartar build up, gingivitis-induced bleeding gums, and an increase in cavities are real problems. Those over the counter hydrating things like Biotene are not terribly effective in my experience. Drinking plenty of water helps, but then you also have to make plenty of trips to the bathroom.

Chamber pots: my next collectible.

I take oral hygiene seriously. I brush twice daily with a preservative free toothpaste to help prevent mouth sores. I floss; usually twice daily if not more. I rinse--usually with a non-alcohol kind of oral rinse like Listerine Zero. I drink a lot of water and avoid overly sugary foods. I see my dentist regularly. I wear a bite splint at night. Even with all of this attentiveness, I still had tartar every damn time I went to the dentist. I still had the occasional cavity. I still had ulcers, sores, and bleeding gums. It was truly discouraging and I felt like my teeth would just crumble one by one until I was left without any option other than dentures at an early age.

And they're off!

Then I heard about oil pulling. Seriously. Listen. Reserve judgment. Even WebMD recognizes the benefit of oil pulling for dental health. It's an ancient practice that some folks believe is a cure all for things like cancer and migraines (total rubbish), but small studies have demonstrated that oil pulling can whiten teeth, reduce halitosis, and improve overall oral health. I've been oil pulling well over a year now. My teeth are whiter despite my love of coffee and red wine. My breath is fresher for the whole day. I have some decalcification spots on my teeth that have apparently stopped worsening and actually show signs of improvement. My gums don't bleed anymore. I have not had canker sores, sores on the corners of my mouth, nor have I had those icky blisters. My dentist, who I've seen ever since I was old enough to need a dentist, has complimented me for the last 3 visits. He never complimented me on my teeth before. My teeth aren't as sensitive to heat or cold like they once were either.

That's right, Cheshire. I'm giving you a run for your money on best smiles.

A spoonful of coconut oil for 5-15 minutes of swishing every day has reversed some dental issues and greatly improved some I was not even worried about. I've never really cared about whitening my teeth for example. The mouth sores, bleeding gums, and dry mouth though? Oil pulling has really helped; no issues in the time that I've been pulling. I feel more hopeful that my teeth might last a bit longer than I used to think. I don't fret about dentures or worry that I can't eat acidic foods since it'll hurt those canker sores. My gums are a healthy pink now. If I slip up and go the weekend without pulling, the gums start bleeding. It only takes two or three days for my mouth to revert to its less than ideal state. I must be consistent. I must be vigilant. It's definitely one of those alternate or complimentary therapies that I will continue to use and recommend to others--especially those people who have oral health concerns. It's truly worth the time and effort.

Scariest giff I've seen yet.

Faking My Way Through Fatigue

Last night my husband and I went with our friends to a belly dance show in Helena. I really wanted to go to support another dance community in the state and hey! Road trip!  It was a delightful night with a lot of variety and talent and conversation. I had a great time.
Except I couldn't stop yawning.

This event was my idea, but this was me the entire time.

Really. I was excited and enjoyed the company and entertainment, but I couldn't get myself to stop feeling so stinking tired. It's a good thing I wasn't driving on the highway, because I am sure I would have fallen asleep.

And....I'm....out.

I share this story because this has been my state of being for several weeks. Living with lupus, I know that fatigue is a major deal. A few years ago I went through several weeks of getting up, going to work, coming home and crashing on the sofa. I seem to be going that way again.

I'm just gonna take a quick nap. Here. Here's good.

I really didn't enjoy this neverending fatigue the last time, and I thought I had beaten it. I thought I had found a way to manage it and still live a bit of a life. Then I had that silly surgery. I honestly think I caused more problems than I solved with that stupid thing sometimes. Sure I don't have the numbness, tingling, and clumsiness in my right arm and hand anymore, but I am left with cranky fibromyalgia, intense Sjorgren's, and fatiguing lupus symptoms. 

Can't we just fix a problem instead of creating more? Me remembering how fucked up autoimmune disorders can be.

I'm not sharing this to be whiny and gain your pity in some way. It's just the reality of autoimmune. People don't always understand when you say you're too tired. They don't always appreciate that being tired as part of lupus or other autoimmunes isn't just needing a quick nap to recharge. It comes in three forms: mental, muscular, and vitality. 

Psst! Wanna know a secret? They all three suck ass.

The mental fatigue is a real bitch. I hate not being able to be quick on my uptake or witty retorts. It drives me bonkers not being able to read, comprehend, or retain what I've read. Not being able to call up the word or phrasing I need vexes me. It's terribly embarassing, honestly. When the fog crawls across my brain, I can't function. It's not just frustrating, it's downright scary. Knowing I have to drive home or get through two more class periods when I can't gather my wits terrifies me. I had one day last week where I finally reached my last period, which is my open, and I just put my head down because I was so mentally lost and exhausted. I just couldn't do anything but sit there. When I got home, I felt so relieved to then find out I didn't have dance that night because it meant I didn't have to try and put on the act for anyone. My husband was even sick, so after I made him some soup, I could veg out until bed. I even found scrolling Facebook challenging. 

Me trying to be articulate when the mental fatigue strikes.

I've done a lot to combat my symptoms since being diagnosed over ten years ago. The muscular fatigue has gotten much better. There was a time when even trying to support myself with my quads during basic belly dance stance was taxing. Going up one or two flights of stairs-which I had to do daily at work-- was impossible and left me with jiggly legs. Holding my arms up to adjust a painting exhausted me. However, I've not had a lot of this kind of problem in a while. Now though, it comes out of the blue and makes me drop stuff. Some times just brushing my hair, which is a pixie cut for crying out loud, is too much. I know last week I posted about my physical goals with exercise, and I've done well, but oh man! I've had to take it down a notch. Exercise is essential to fighting fatigue and overcoming some of the pain and weakness of autoimmune. I know this. Someone needs to tell my arms. They simply aren't up for the task and pushing too hard leaves me with watery arms and intense nerve pain. 

Curse you fibro! 

However, right now the worst is the not getting through my day to day life without feeling like a slug. Yesterday, I spent half the day on the couch because doing dishes, making coffee, or even going to take a shower threatened to fully deplete my resources. I went downstairs finally to put a load of laundry in the washer. I came upstairs and laid back on the sofa because it sucked the life force right outta me. I knew we had plans to go to Helena and I needed to conserve as much verve as possible. I hate not doing more or being involved more in causes or activities that I enjoy or interest me because I fear not having the energy to follow through. Tuesday I wanted to go to a new action group in my community geared toward building alliances and civility and awareness, but I came home from work and couldn't even consider going back out. I couldn't even Netflix because I my energy reserves were that empty. On Wednesday, I was pooped, but I thought I was starting to recover. Until Thursday hit. Thursday I fought to stay awake, but gave up at 830p and slept straight through until morning. Truth be told, I was nodding off between 5p and 8p, but I refused to give in! My sister told me that their Thursday was crazy busy between PTA, guitar lessons, and swim lessons, you know--typical family of five commitments all on the same night conflicting with each other. There's no way I could keep that schedule feeling like I have been. It seemed so absurd, but I went to bed at 830p that night. I was enormously thankful I didn't have my sister's schedule. 

I'm sorry, but we have to do what when? Holy crap.

I miss getting through my week with enough vigor to do more than just exist. I am tired of being tired. Period. I'll keep trying. I will keep watching my food choices, my sleep patterns, my exercise routine, and my emotional state. I will keep taking the medications as directed. I hope things will start turning around soon because...

...this is all got right now.

Thank You Spring for Getting Me off the Couch

I know what you're thinking: Two blog posts in two days? What is she doing? Madness! Well, I got a little off my routine during spring break. I owed a post for last week, which went up yesterday. So today's post gets me back on my usual schedule.

Thank you. Thank you. 

It's finally spring in the northern realm. It's about 70 degrees, sunny, gentle breeze at times, and a ton of singing birds. Staying inside was not an option today. I had to go for a walk.
My body has been rather frustrated since the neck surgery and herniated discs. For months after the discs started pinching nerves, I couldn't do much in the way of arm work. Instead, I did a ton of squats. Every kind of squat you could think of, I did it. So many squats, so little burpees, tricep dips, or push ups. *sigh

Ok, so I went up. Now what? Down eh? Did that, too. For the love of all that is holy, I need more! 

My body needed some physical exercise dammit! Months of nothing was annoying. Today felt good to roam around the neighborhood. I zigged and I zagged. I listened and I looked. It was lovely. It felt good to get out and do some kind of exercise. I've been allowed to walk as exercise since December, but here in Montana, walking in winter can be lovely, but it is also cold and risky. While I was still in the neck brace and even for a long time after it was off, I didn't want to walk outside because slipping on ice meant potentially damaging my slow healing neck. I think I have also explained why a treadmill was not an option for me to exercise, but in case you've forgotten, here ya go:

You can't make me!

I know that people can see me out for a walk, too, but it's not the same thing. No mirrors for one. Also, people who see me while I'm out for a walk are usually too preoccupied with their own task that they won't make me anxious as I get my walk on.
I'm also finally able to do some more light strength training items again. When I got the go ahead to start working out in January, I did the Diary of a Fit Mommy's 12 Week No-Gym Home Workout Plan-not the cardio portion mind you; I stuck to the squat, crunch, lunge etc. In order to start getting some physical activity as I recovered, I had to modify it though. I was not allowed to do traditional push ups nor I was allowed to do traditional sit ups. Consequently, I skipped the push ups until March. Then I started doing wall push ups. For sit ups and crunches, I do them standing. I still don't do the planks though. I found that if I do them, the incision site gets cranking. It's like a bunch of bee stings or needle sticks. Not pleasant.
In March, I also added one day a week of The Firm Hi-Def Sculpt DVD. I had not done this DVD in years and I can't do the crunches at the end of the routine without modification, so I don't know how helpful that is, but it doesn't bother me. I am just glad to be able to start toning again! Before things went south with the herniated discs, I had lovely, sculpted arms. Those lovely arms have been neglected for months. Time to whip them back in shape!
Now that it is April, I have added a squat challenge as well. It's the easy beginner challenge on the blog My Fitness Pal. It's a simple one, but I'm still doing the Fit Mommy in the morning and this one in the afternoon. After not doing squats from November to January, my hind quarters could use the extra attention.
I've also added my Body by Science 12 minute, one time a week back in. On this one, I can't do the arm hang, so I do free weights in an overhead press. I also do the wall push-ups instead of regular push ups. This is something I was doing faithfully one time a week before my herniated discs made it impossible. Essentially, I do super slow and controlled exercises for 3 minutes each. Slow overhead presses, slow wall pushups, doorway squat/wall sit, and doorway arm press (think floating arm trick with a bit more force). What I really like about this one is the chance to do some mindful breathing. The more mindful breathing I do, the less focused on the agony my muscles endure during this activity I am. Today I did this for the first time since August-September. I'm likely going to feel it in the morning. But it's efficient, effective, and something that I can do at home with only my cats to judge me.

Link thinks rolling in the dirt is a better workout, so maybe he's not he best judge.

Maybe I'm adding in too much all at once. I feel great today, though. I love the feeling that I can finally be active again. Couch-surfing gets old. My body grew bored; it needed a jolt. My butt needs to be firmed up. My triceps need to be worked. It took me a long time to find a work out plan that toned without being too demanding. It's tough when you've got a bunch of autoimmune conditions that complicate your physical ability. My body and I worked hard to get back in tune with one another after the lupus, Sjogren's, and fibromyalgia diagnoses. It's going to take some time this go around, too. We'll get there though. If it's too much, my body will let me know.

Pondering Privilege

Several years ago, I was in a play, "The King and I." Being the Caucasian I am, you'd think I was likely the lead, Anna. However, I was not. I was one of the wives. Our King also was Caucasian. Our community is 88.5% white according to demographic data. During that show, the King shaved his head to fit the part. We wives etc. made our hair dark if it wasn't already a dark brown/black--I dyed mine black. I never intend to do that again; not a flattering look on me at all. We also used make up to cover up the dark circles and pull our eyes forward so they didn't look so sunken and well, let's be honest, Caucasian. We did not do any kind of elaborate make up that involved stereotypes--think Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Although, I do cringe a little at the thought of trying to flatten my features and fit into a more Asian presentation; honestly, probably not the best show to choose in a town like mine. Theater is all about illusion. Illusion of costume, make up, and paint. However, our make up choices also walk a fine line of what some might refer to as white privilege--choosing a show that has so many roles for Asian actors and then filling those roles with white people. We did have one actual Thai actress. One.

I love this movie, but this part is cringe-worthy.

Another experience I mull over when I think about my white privilege involves a performance at a cultural fair. My belly dance troupe was invited to perform. We followed a speaker from India. Our troupe often support each other with ululation and saying things like "Yallah!" The speaker was quite offended. I'm not entirely sure if he thought we were saying "Allah!" or what, but he told our leader that we should not say that as it is taking the Lord's name in vain, except we weren't. I had always believed yallah to be a celebratory phrase. It was something to cheer the other dancers and maybe make him or her move faster in their dance. This Indian fellow though was adamant that we were being rude and insensitive, which would be totally out of place at a cultural fair where the goal is to build connections and appreciation for other cultures. I didn't want to offend audience members, so I did a little digging. I couldn't find anything to support the idea that "yallah!" would be offensive, so I let it go.

Maybe we were articulating too many l's. 

Similar in subject to that, I sometimes think about an article I read that ranted about white belly dancers; I had to keep my knee-jerk potentially white privilege reaction in check. The author stated she despised white belly dancers who were stealing gigs in the Middle East and who were doing nothing more than wearing too much kohl eyeliner and performing in "brown face." I grappled a lot with trying to see things from her point of view. Belly dance comes in a wide variety of styles now. There are fusion, tribal, Egyptian cabaret, Turkish, American cabaret, and a host of others. As one of the oldest--if not the oldest--form of dance in the world, it's gone through countless incarnations and spread all over the globe. While some dancers remain covered in full-length caftans, others like me wear bedlah sets. Ultimately, I had to conclude that while the person clearly had strong feelings about the subject, I couldn't accept what I do as privilege and appropriation. I'm sure she'll never want to see us perform at the restaurant here, but art forms of all kinds evolve and change over time. As we move toward a more global society and a less tribal species, saying one race cannot engage in an art form smacks of divisive thinking. An online acquaintance who happens to be an anthropologist pointed out that the key is to be respectful in the presentation. I agree; I would no sooner apply darker make up thereby mocking the situation like the black face performers of old than I would show the bottom of my feet while dancing at the restaurant because that offends the Greek population who frequent the location. I think keeping the style and technique respectful is important. I'm not going to apologize for being a white belly dancer, though. I love it. I am eternally grateful for having the chance to learn this dance for all of the wonderful details it has brought into my life. Instead of "sorry," I say "thank you" to those first belly dancers who brought the "abdominal gyrations" to the World's Fair. I am thankful that belly dance was shared with the world.

This is a belly dancer.

So is this.

Them, too.

A year ago, I sat at a table with my husband and his two brothers. We were talking politics and the backlash against President Obama came up. One brother posed the question along the lines of how it's obvious that the blow back and opposition is driven by racism. I commented that I didn't "know" that to be true. When I say I "know" something, I've considered it deeply. I had not, at that point, truly considered the idea of racism against our president. While I knew there was definitely a contingent of racism, I felt that chalking it up to racism only was a little too simplistic. Maybe I just wanted to believe better about our country's leaders. I still think it's a complicated issue that goes beyond racism, but I can say that racism is most definitely a factor. Some might say my initial reluctance to agree immediately is my white privilege talking.  Maybe.

I don't think that's quite how it works.

But it's truly mind-boggling that we haven't grown beyond it yet. This is a nation founded on being a melting pot. It's also a nation built on eradicating indigenous people in order to take over. It's a tangled web to unwind; it's not likely to be spun into silk any time soon either. It's one I wish more people considered rather than dismissing outright. For my part, I will continue to consider my reactions to race related issues to determine how much my privilege is in play. May others find their way to do the same.