I had noticed...

Yes, I know. I keep writing posts that no one reads and I keep changing the design, as it is now called, of my blog. Not only that, I also changed the fonts and the color to my liking. I'm a fickle woman and I'm going to try out everything I like until I can settle on something. When that will be I don't know, it may take me a while. I'm like a gold digger and I keep seeing bigger nuggets. I can't put down my gear until I've got every one of them.

I did a bunch of chores and Tyke helped me by going around the apartment with me and watching me closely in whatever I did. I don't know what he thinks when he's watching, but apparently it's all very interesting to him. He helped me make the bed by lying down on top of it. Now I have a bumpy duvet. He helped with the laundry by sticking his head into the machine. That helps when you try to get the stuff out. Nevertheless, I got some things done, just in time before my sister called me to ask if I wanted to go with her to take the dogs for a walk. It was funny, because I was about to call her and ask her the same thing. Telepathy.

The sun was shining and I wore my sunglasses, but I also wore my jacket and I was much too warm. Had I known how hot it was going to be in the sun, I would have left it at home. We walked a long way and part of the way we walked along the flags that were set out for a catholic procession. Sometimes we heard the marching band play in the distance, but we managed to evade them completely. There were people standing on the sidewalks along the way, getting ready to greet whatever holiness was about to come by. I don't know enough about it to tell you. I'm sure somebody will inform me. Maybe they carried a relic. It's a theory. The colors of the flags were yellow and white, if that has any meaning.

We passed a big stone block in the grassy verge and I said to my sister, "Look, there is the grave of a Roman soldier." She said, "Really?" I said, "No, I'm lying." She believes everything I tell her, because I say it so sincerely. I used to tell her terrible stories when we were kids and I didn't know better. Luckily, I improved as I got older. That doesn't mean that my stories got better.

Tyke had the runs right on some one's driveway. The people weren't home, but their neighbor was and my sister asked him for a bucket of water to wash it away. That's how my sister is. She's not the least bit embarrassed to approach someone with a request like that. I hadn't even thought of it. My sister is an extrovert, while I, in my Dutch incarnation, am an introvert. Anyway, the bucket of water worked and we could leave with a clear conscious.

My sister wanted to know how I was doing. I said, "I'm better now, but I was a bit depressed all week." She was surprised and said, "I hadn't noticed. Why didn't you tell me?" I said, "As long as I have some kind of control over it, I don't want you to know. I'll let you know if I really can't handle it." My sister counts on me to be there for her every day and I sure as heck am not going to let her know when I'm mildly depressed, because then she'll feel that she can't lean on me and I don't want that to happen. I am her big sister and I do want to keep functioning in that role. I do feel a sense of responsibility towards her, especially since we don't have parents anymore.

It's alternately sunny and cloudy and noisy little kids are playing in the street. Kids always shriek a lot, I guess it is necessary. That's the drawback of good temperatures. Kids are out and every time one screams, I think something has happened. It's very unsettling. Parents must have nerves of steel, but then I forget that I used to be a parent of little kids too. I survived it, although I think that all mothers have a simmering nervous breakdown that's not recognized.

At least my life is filled with reasonable people and sensible adults. I do count my blessings. And cute animals, let's not forget them.

Ciao,
Nora

I din't get it quite right...

Well, I slept on the sofa with two cats on top of me the whole time. The good news is that I didn't have any night sweats, the bad news is that I didn't sleep long enough. I woke up at 4 o'clock this morning and got up and made myself a cup of coffee and wild horses couldn't have dragged me back to sleep. I would have gone kicking and screaming. I was bound an determined to be awake and alert and functioning. Where there's a will, there's a way. It only took one cup of coffee and two cigarettes to be completely there. I was answering emails before my brain was at the right speed. It was in first gear and I took off, switching gears as I got up to speed. I have just taken my medicines and in a while that antipsychotic medication will make me sleepy again and then I will go back to the sofa. I'm assuming that that's what the problem is, anyway.

I'm not going to be concerned about being sleepy during the day anymore, because I just am and there's not much I can do about it. I don't know if it's a side effect of the medicines or if it's because it's wintertime, but I seem to want to sleep through the most important parts of the day and night. I am alert in the evenings and very early in the mornings. That's just the way it is. I'll have to see what happens to me in the springtime. Maybe things will get more balanced then.

I've been having sleeping problems on and off for 16 years. More on than off. I got them when I came to the Netherlands and have never gotten over them. That's because I've never felt safe anymore. I've always felt that I need to be hyper vigilant and alert, especially now that I live on my own, but I was this way before too, when I was still married. Before I had my computer I watched MTV with headphones on and waited for it to be morning so I could make noise. The computer was a real lifesaver. It made the hours go by quickly and kept me entertained. I don't know what I would do without it. Go back to watching MTV I suppose, although it's not what it was. I like the fact that I can do what I want now and make noise or not and turn on lights and talk to myself and the dog and listen to music. The last time I slept really well was when I was in the States. I kept very normal hours then and slept like a baby. That's 5 years ago. Just imagine that all this time I haven't felt safe. There's something deeply psychological going on.

My father murdered my mother at 4:30 in the morning while she was asleep. I very often wonder if that has something to do with it. It's something I can think about on two levels. One way is on a very rational, non-emotional level where I just keep myself to the facts, but there's another level that lies much deeper and where I shudder at the horror of it all and want to scream and cry and turn away my head and not look at it. It's too horrible to remember. I wonder how I walk around with that, subconsciously, to this day. I think you never get over something like that, really.

Okay, I'm going to eat and go lie down on the sofa again, or maybe on the bed, I'll see. No, not on the bed after what I just told you.

Have a good morning.

Ciao,
Nora

Obviously...

Obviously, it has dawned on me that the small container of senior food is way to little for one meal for the Überhund and that he is left hungry after eating one, because he is getting less than half of what he was getting before.

Tonight I had to give him two containers before he was satisfied and curled up very cosily in a ball to got to sleep and digest his food. So, that is a problem, because I can't afford to give him two containers of food at each meal and it would still be less food than what he was getting originally.

So, it is back to the drawing board, in other words, the supermarket, to see what other brands of good dog food there are for him for reasonable prices that don't make me broke halfway through the month. I am not going back to the original food, because it was junk and made him gain weight. I have to find something very nutritious that's good for him and will not make him gain weight and is good for senior dogs.

Late this afternoon I knew he was hungry, because he was scrounging around in the street again looking for edibles and he has not done that for a while. He was trying to eat unmentionables and I had to pull him away from them, I don't know what they were, but they did not look appetizing.

You see I've changed my header image. It was time for a change I felt, so I looked around on Pixdaus, where there are thousands to choose from. With a little luck, you run into something that appeals to you. Every once in a while I need for something to be different to keep me interested in what I am doing and make it appealing to me, so that I will open up the page with renewed excitement. It's no good if I keep seeing the same image. It starts to bore me and little details start to bother me and it all becomes too familiar.

I realize that I'm writing an awful lot of posts. I have the constant urge to write, it is almost like talking and if you were in the room with me right now, I would be talking your head off. Every time I see the words 'create new post' I click on them. It's an automatism and completely self indulgent. You can blame it on the fact that I am alone a lot and don't have many conversation partners and that when I am in company, I am usually not the talker, but the listener. I don't unload my words very much with anybody, except here.

I don't know if that's because of the company I keep or because of me. I seem to surround myself with people who have the urge to talk a lot and do so freely, regardless of the fact if I may have something to say or not. I admit I am a silent water, but I do sometimes have the urge to share my own self and always feel hindered in my ability to do so, as it seems that people don't expect this aspect of me.

The hard part is that I have a very funny sense of humor and that it very rarely gets the chance to come to the surface. I am always embroiled in serious discussions that are matters of great concern to other people and I feel that I can't do any sort of slapstick routine when I talk to them. Apparently, I have that serious effect on people and they see me more as a listening post than as someone to have fun with.

I'm sure these are also my own vibrations I send out and I need to look at my own self and see what precisely my role is in the lives of other people. I am sure that I have had some of my spontaneity knocked out of me and I may not get that back with everybody. I'm not half as carefree as I used to be. I may actually be a very boring person in real life, who knows?

I suppose that's why I like the animals so much, because they don't expect me to be any other then who I am, which is for them a constantly cheerful person with a lot of patience. I'm always in a good mood when I see the animals. Even when I'm in a bad mood, which doesn't happen very often, I'm in a good mood with them.

I am, what you may call an introvert, while my sister is an extrovert. In this we differ as night and day. My older sister is also an extrovert, which leaves me kind of by myself in the middle. I am, however, the binding factor, I keep one informed about the other and I serve as listening post to both. Sometimes I feel like a good shepherd who tends to his flock. I would be good as a care giver, someone who takes care of people's mental well being. I always know the right thing to say, believe it or not. I have diplomacy and tact. Even if I don't always show that here.

But here is a different world, isn't it? Here we can be our true selves without our facades on. We stand here in all our nakedness without any make up on and without pretty costumes. I think you people know me better than anyone in the world. I choose to show my real self here. Thank goodness that I can and that I'm not embarrassed to. I know none of you will take advantage of it. You will only know someone named Irene very well.

Alright, very quickly. My mother was an extrovert, my father was an introvert, my daughter is an extrovert and my son was an introvert. I think children should be as little exposed as possible to the quirks and foibles of the personalities of the parents. We have no business messing with their innate potentials. Sadly, I don't see a way around this, except by having them live in a kibbutz and that's a whole other story.

So, that was my long insightful ramble for this evening. I'm not nearly done yet, but I'll leave it at this for now. I am wide awake and not nearly ready to go to bed, which is a problem. I will take my medicines and put on my pajamas and see if that will help.

Ciao...

Internet.

I just signed up with a new Internet provider who is also going to provide me with telephone and TV service and I should save about 20 Euros a month. The good part is that I'll be getting one bill a month instead of two like I am getting now, covering different periods of time, making the whole thing less clear, which was not the deal when we signed up initially. It was supposed to be a one package deal for a much cheaper price, so I made sure that that really was the deal I was getting this time. It seems legitimate, so I'll have to put my faith in it. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please. Every penny counts. I'll have more left over to shop with, ha, ha.

I was only slightly bothered at ergo therapy this morning. Our regular therapist was ill, so we had a stand in, who was equally good and up to date on what is happening in the group. I got to do my song and dance act about having to swallow my bitter pill in order to reach my heavenly heights and that was appreciated by all. At least two people were very relieved that I was not leaving. I have no idea how the rest feels about it. I don't think they care much one way or the other, not knowing me very well yet. Two people didn't show up and one person was late and that is not appreciated very much and I am sure there is going to be an aftermath about this. Showing up and being on time is part of your responsibility.

We had an exercise to do. We had to partner up with different people and with paint claim our appointed space on a large sheet of paper and then lay claim to the shared space. I solved this by drawing a line straight across the shared space and filling everything beneath it up with paint. Other people did it by drawing pretty pictures of birds and flowers and bunny rabbits and fish, but I painted everything brown. I just wanted to lay claim to my space and my share of the shared space and not give anyone room to enter into mine. I thought brown was an ugly enough color to make that point clear to everybody. I was not in the mood to be kind and careful and considerate and giving by painting fragile and cheerful scenes.

I suppose that could be considered anti social, but it did give the other people all the room to work on their half unhindered by me, because I would not invade them.

Sometimes life's a bitch.

This happened right after the coffee break during which someone asked me why I never talked about my parents and I told her in plain language why I never did and she was very upset about it. I suppose subconsciously, I was upset about it too, although I did not give it a thought once I was done talking about it.

The Exfactor did not come by to do his laundry. He just came by to check on me and to make sure I was alright, so I could assure him that I was and I think it is all getting to be a little bit too much for him, because he had a deja vu moment during which he imagined that we already had the conversation we were having several days earlier. So, I think I need to manage better on my own. The Exfactor is not as stress resistant as we think he is.

I need to be careful who I share myself with. I don't want to overwhelm people with me. The sheer entity of who I am with all the extremes that come with it. You can't just say to a person that you were almost psychotic the other day. That's scary! Unless you are a fellow patient with a similar disability and you know the experience.

Bah humbug!

My greatest friend is the Überhund who loves me no matter what sort of a crazy mood I am in. He is always patient with me. He thinks I am just great.

Tomorrow is grocery shopping day again. It seems that it has been more than six days since I've done that last, but I can't be sure. I don't need that many things. Milk and yogurt and juice. And a treat. Yesterday, I went to the tobacco shop and I also got a Côte d'Or Chocolate bar with truffles. It was so delicious. Chocolate always puts me in a good mood. That's silly, drinking a glass of juice also puts me in a good mood, chocolate is just more decadent. Chocolate is one of those foods that should be very healthy for you to eat, like strawberries.

Last week the Exfactor brought me the last strawberries from the Paramount's garden. They weren't sweet and juicy, but crunchy like apples. Still, they tasted good and I ate them all. It was like forbidden fruit. I don't think the Paramount knew I was eating her last strawberries.

I left the house this morning without having combed my hair. When I got to my destination, I went into the ladies room and fashioned it into something halfway decent with a little bit of water. Still, I felt like carrying a sign that said, "This is not my real hair!" Or one that said, "I am much better looking in real life." Maybe people should always wear signs explaining some bit of themselves on any given day. "Excuse me, I am grumpy today. It's nothing personal."

Now I must go read some blogs or I will be banished from blogland forever.

Mwah!