Here’s the good news. Everything on my body has suddenly calmed down. I feel like Truman in his little sailboat on the water…tossed around by crashing waves one moment only to be thrust into an eerie calm the next.
That’s good, right? Hives gone. No waking up in the middle of the night to the feeling of blood vessels bursting in your legs (seriously the creepiest feeling ever). No standing and talking to people while you repeatedly slap your stomach like a crazy person and they politely pretend not to notice (fact: stomach slapping is the best itch cure while face slapping continues to be the best bitch cure).
But it’s not good. I mean, it’s ‘good’ but it’s dangerous. Because this is where I get complacent. I gave the doctor my big, heavy burden and he took it and squished it down into a nice neat package that I can easily fit into the side pocket of my diaper bag (where it will reign supreme amongst soggy goldfish crackers and old restaurant crayons).
But. But But But.
Then I look in the mirror. I look in the mirror and I see that girl with the puffy, jowly face of Churchill looking back at me. But sadly, none of his wisdom. Dark circles under her eyes. Just different. And I remember that for all of the good that these meds are doing…they are affecting my body in other ways too.
Then I grab a towel and clean the mirror and then the sinks and then I feed the fish and then I start to clean out my closet but when I carry something into the kitchen I decide to unload half of the dishwasher but then stop because maybe I’ll reorganize the silverware drawer first but when did I get this spoon? was it a wedding present? hey do I have that picture from our wedding that I love so much? I’ll go look in the office…oh my gosh all of this paperwork needs to be filed I’m going to do that right now but look! a box of cards and letters maybe I’ll sit down and read these but I can’t sit on the bed because look at all of this laundry that needs to be folded first okay I’ll fold the laundry and hey I never installed the hooks in the boys closet so they could hang up their own jackets and they really need to have more responsibility around here and I KNOW I’ll make a responsibility chart but I guess I need to go to Michaels and get poster board first so I’ll just get dressed and hey! my closet! maybe I should clean it out! SQUIRREL!
The steroids make you a little agitated. And skitzy. If you can harness those powers you’d probably be able to take over the world (or at least actually complete a few Pinterest projects). But if you’re a little scattered to begin with…well it makes it hard to really get anything DONE.
And then there is this side of it too…the medical bills start rolling in. Actually, they do more like a creepy hunch shuffle up into your mailbox which you desperately try to ignore until you realize that you’re avoiding eye contact with your postal carrier who is clearly trying to signal to you that she CAN’T FIT ANYTHING ELSE INTO YOUR MAILBOX!
So I’m going to do something really hard. I’m going to post pictures of my pantry. Because that is my first start. Food. Diet. Clean eating. I going to post these pictures because I feel like it will make me more accountable. And I give myself one week to change it. Clean it out. Start fresh. I’m meeting with a naturopathic doctor too but this is my first start.
Anyhoos…look back next week for my pantry transformation and my first solid attempt at meal planning because my grocery bill is out. of. control.
On a lighter note…this scenario greeted me in the playroom. Don’t you kind of want to party with these guys? Viking Lego and Darth Hulk…what could go wrong??
XO from The Dark Side