Category Archives: FM/CFS

In Which She Rocks, With Awesomesauce

As everyone who was not me predicted, the workshop was a success.

Avalon Naturel, the meeting space in which I gave the workshop, has a wonderfully welcoming and comforting energy. I learned that the Avalon regulars are as equally comforting and welcoming. There were, to my astonishment (and, yes, initial panic) over twenty people crowded into the single room, some in chairs around the edges, some on mats on the floor. And they talked, bless them; they responded when I tossed questions and discussion topics out, for which I was heartily thankful, because nothing kills a workshop quicker than attendees who don’t respond. Respond these excellent people did; I had people talking to me throughout the break and afterwards, telling me how much they’d learned, both beginners and experienced people assuring me that I was making sense to them, giving them new ways to think about things or the opportunity to share their own techniques and ideas. I loved it.

It went so well, as a matter of fact, that less than halfway through it I was already thinking about what I could give from my existing slate of workshops for them. I’d been tentatively sketching a pregnancy workshop, but one of the co-directors told me that the Avalonians tend to be of below or beyond childbearing age/mindset so there probably wouldn’t be much response. But the other co-director in attendance caught me after most people had left and proposed co-leading a workshop around Harvest, which got us both very excited as it expanded and evolved into two different things.

So yes: A success, and the Avalonians are going to have a hard time getting rid of me. We have an informal agreement for me to show up one evening next month for a kaffeeklatsch type of thing once the hearthcraft book is out, so people can buy the book and I can sign them and we can all talk about lots of stuff instead of just what we can cover on one subject in three hours. (I sold every one of my previous books I’d brought except one, and signed dozens more people owned and brought along with them. Good grief.)

I know I always feel better after I’ve given a workshop or class, which is part of what gets me through the prep and anxiety leading up to the event. Part of that post-workshop feeling is relief, part of it is the sense that I’ve accomplished something, and part of that is coming away with what the attendees have given to me in the form of energy and interaction and appreciation. I came away from this one feeling so much better than I’d expected to feel that I amused myself. And frankly, I just sat back and let myself enjoy it for the rest of the weekend.

Yesterday afternoon was my monthly group cello lesson, which was so much fun. I love the group lessons as a rule, but this one was particularly enjoyable. Only four out of seven students were there, and we played some really fun stuff which I essentially sight-read because I hadn’t had time to play it through after my teacher gave it to me last Tuesday (last week = work + workshop insanity + brain burnout). I and my stand partner spent a lot of time laughing, which felt moderately wicked. I pulled some very nice stuff off when the less-confident people dropped out along the way, and tripped myself in a couple of particular places every single time because I hadn’t prepared the shifts. Last night after the boy got ready for bed I set up my cello and told him a little story about a moonlit barnyard at midnight, when the barn door creaks open and two eyes peek out, and then a little chicken steps into the barnyard to move one foot, then another, and then… dances! At this point I played the Chicken Reel for him, and he kept telling the story on his own. It was fun. When he was in bed I kept working on some of those nasty shifts and working out fingerings for various group pieces, and he sang along in the dark. This morning he woke up singing again, and when I went in to cuddle him he threw his arms around me and asked if I’d had fun at my cello practise. I told him I had, and asked if he liked hearing it while he was in bed. He said he did quite enthusiastically and asked what songs they had been (which resulted in a discussion about Dona Nobis Pacem and Ave Verum Corpus at much-too-early-o’clock), so maybe I’ll do it more often. Being comfortable enough to play with everyone at home here and upstairs was a definite indicator of how good a mood I was in. I actually liked the sound I was producing, too. Wonders will never cease.

The weather this weekend certainly contributed to my excellent mood. It was so mild, and even sunny! When we went out on Sunday morning to do groceries and errands we all wore spring coats with shoes or rainboots. Lovely! So easy to move around; no huge parkas to fight with getting in and out of the car, no mitts to keep track of! We even cracked the sunroof open on the way home from lunch yesterday. And while logically I know that we all woke up on Sunday at the same time we always do, to roll over and look at the clock and see the numbers 7:24 there when one’s son trots in and climbs into bed to cuddle is psychologically very uplifting. (This morning was a bit harder, of course, as we were waking up what felt like an hour earlier, but meh, it’s an acceptable trade-off.) I spent most of the weekend going about with a somewhat silly grin on my face. It really highlighted how hard things have been these past few months for me due to a variety of reasons, some health-related, some psychological, some SAD, and other stuff going on. Doing a really big grocery order and taking the boys out to lunch thanks to the workshop renumeration helped the mood, too. So did paying off some of my Visa bill.

I had such a fabulous weekend that this morning has hit a little hard (beyond the waking-up-an-hour-earlier thing). I slept awfully last night, basically passing the entire night in a twilight half-awake state, and I’m having a very physically achy and stiff day. The ibuprofen hasn’t kicked in after an hour, so I suspect I shall have to take another. It’s one of the fibro-related repercussions of having a terrific weekend. It’s moderately unjust that I have to suffer for having a good weekend the same way I suffer after a bad one, but at least I have the momentum of the good mood to carry me.

Today: Anthology, anthology, anthology! The rest of the submissions from the first round of invitees came in this weekend plus some early ones of the second round, so I have a week of solid work ahead.

Exercise In Frustration

Yesterday was, quite simply, an exercise in frustration. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but by the end of the day I’d had quite enough. And it seems to have seeped into this morning, too.

The momentum of the previous day’s writing didn’t quite carry over, so I spent a lot of time bashing my head against the end of the book. Hydro decided to play footsie with the neighbourhood, resulting in intermittent power through the afternoon followed by a solid hour of nothing. I finished knitting the boy’s lightsaber, and then everyone came home and the boy clicked into Irritating mode right around the time I was attacked by a nasty headache.

I got through dinner, packed up, and left for orchestra. I felt odder by the second but figured it was low blood sugar, which would be remedied any moment once dinner kicked in. Didn’t happen. I hung on through the first half of rehearsal, determined not to pass out, and left at break.

Here’s the thing: I remember telling my principal that I thought I should go home, and she told me to do it. I remember being dressed to go and saying goodbye to the second desk people. And then I don’t remember anything until I clicked back in halfway home, on the highway. It was not a good thing at all. Took me about five minutes to get out of the car and inside the house, too. Very shaky; very dizzy. Bad all round. It wasn’t blood sugar, it was fibro reminding me that although I have had months of good or only-slightly-off days, a couple of hours of Very Bad can still wholly and successfully screw me up.

Then this morning, when I was trying very hard to be in a good mood, I got an email that made me absolutely livid (I keep telling myself it’s not my problem, and it really isn’t, but it’s hard to let go when you put time and energy into something and people do things that indicate they don’t value that time and energy), and the boy pulled the whiny poky I-don’t-hear-you act when I was trying to get him going. I treated myself to an iced cappuccino while I was running errands; it’s warm enough, and it was exactly what I needed. (Also, I used a gift certificate to buy it, so I feel smug.)

While I was out I picked up the yarn and needles I need for the music-patterned wristwarmers knit-along I and a bunch of musicians on Ravelry are doing in March. The colours are really lovely: a warm peaty brown for the main colour, and an Irish cream colour for the contrast work. Kind of a reverse of what antiqued ink on old parchment paper would look like. The black and white is so stark; I wanted something warmer.

And now, to work. Once I go rescue the rest of that iced cappuccino from the car where I parked it across the street, that is, because there was a two-foot high and wide pile of snow across the end of the driveway when I got back with groceries. Yay for snow removal; boo for the time lapse between the steps.

Dysthymia

Someone told me there was a name for this last summer. It’s taken me this long to look it up.

Dysthymia (aka Dysthemia (sp)): Chronic low-level (of lesser intensity) depressive episodes.

American Description:

A) Depressed mood for most of the day, for more days than not, as indicated either by subjective account or observation by others, for at least 2 years. Note: In children and adolescents, mood can be irritable and duration must be at least 1 year.

B) Presence, while depressed, of two (or more) of the following: poor appetite or overeating; insomnia or hypersomnia; low energy or fatigue; low self-esteem: poor concentration or difficulty making decisions; feelings of hopelessness.

C) During the 2-year period (1 year for children or adolescents) of the disturbance, the person has never been without the symptoms in Criteria A and B for more than 2 months at a time.

European Description:

A chronic depression of mood which does not currently fulfil the criteria for recurrent depressive disorder, mild or moderate severity, in terms of either severity or duration of individual episodes, although the criteria for mild depressive episode may have been fulfilled in the past, particularly at the onset of the disorder. (Ed. note: Well, gosh, that makes me feel better already!)

The balance between individual phases of mild depression and intervening periods of comparative normality is very variable. Sufferers usually have periods of days or weeks when they describe themselves as well, but most of the time (often for months at a time) they feel tired and depressed; everything is an effort and nothing is enjoyed. They brood and complain, sleep badly and feel inadequate, but are usually able to cope with the basic demands of everyday life. Dysthymia therefore has much in common with the concepts of depressive neurosis and neurotic depression. If required, age of onset may be specified as early (in late teenage or the twenties) or late.

Me again. Now, I’m not the kind to dash off and self-diagnose. My osteopath has already told me that there are plenty of nice people out there who can help me with my mental and emotional balance just like she’s helping me with my back. (Speaking of which, I’m spending most of today lying on the living room floor working on the laptop because sitting at the desktop is too painful. Back pain is not helping general moodliness.) I’ve just been brushed off by my GP so often now that I don’t know where to go next, really. A close friend worked with an excellent therapist a couple of years ago and has her name and contact info, but as usual, their time requires money.

Or maybe I don’t need to go that route at all. Maybe all I need is a month or so off, and see if that lets my mind unkink a bit. Perhaps life’s tossing me about in an effort to get me to stop for a while and re-evaluate things. I need to rediscover what’s important. What I like, what I dislike. What’s fun, what’s not fun. Having no opinion for so long, just doing things because it’s on my list of things to do, means I really have nothing to compare my current life with any more.