My Psyche

I wonder what kind of space my journals take up in my psyche.

I’m hanging onto them.  Not really letting go.  Shredding a little at a time.  I don’t need them nor do I want them, but I still have them.

Is all of the pain and anger and sometimes happiness of my pages in my psyche?

How do you envision your pysche?

I like to think of mine as a bunch of rooms in my head.  Some rooms are bigger than others.  Some rooms are painted neon pink and have happy stuff in them while other rooms are dark and dingy.

I visualize the room where my journals are is dark and full of spider webs.  The door creaks when I open it.  The chair in the corner has a dead fly laying in an inch of dust. In the corner across from the chair are the bins my journals are in.   The tops of the bins are covered in dust.  There is a single light bulb in the middle of the room with a pull chain.  I think I was going to read them at some point, but never got around to it.

Is there negative energy in the room?  Or is it just stale and heavy?

Is holding onto my journals holding my back from something I really want to be doing….like writing more?

What would this room look like if I shredded my journals?  Maybe there would be daises painted on the wall and a cd player in the corner with some chanting cd’s next to it.  Shelves with all of my books on one wall and a big overstuffed chair on the other.  My desk in the corner.

I know I’m probably getting carried away, but I have been thinking about this for awhile.

I think as I shred my journals something opens in me.  I think that part of me is going through a transition  The space that my journals occupied empties and fills with something else.

I wonder what that something will be.

I will keep you posted.  🙂

Have a great Thursday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know why I was so afraid

I had my colonoscopy two days ago and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.

I didn’t want it.  I dreaded it.  I bitched for two weeks prior that I had to do it.  I didn’t want to drink the stuff or take the pills.  I was pissed that I couldn’t eat for a day before the procedure.  I was emotional.  I worried about getting sick and/or shitting all over the place.  I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the procedure.

I just didn’t want the damn procedure.  Ever.

But I did it and I’m happy I did.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  I started drinking as much water as I could handle on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.   Flushing out my system early helped because I pooped three times on Friday and Saturday so that when Sunday came I didn’t really have the much to get out.  It was as if my body knew what it had to do and was helping me along.

I ate at midnight for the last time and I slept til 11 a.m. so there was only a four hour gap from when I got up til I had to start taking the pooping pills.  I really wasn’t that hungry.  (it was the commercials that made me want to eat something.  i never realized that there were so many food commercials on tv)  I had two orange jello cups and two cups of bouillon during the day and I was fine.

The test itself is a breeze.  The drugs were good.  I was in the middle of a conversation with the nurse in the OR and the next thing I knew I was back in my room.

I have three poylps.  One wasn’t precancerous, but two were.  The precancerous poylps could have possibly turned into cancer in three to five years.  I consider myself very lucky.

After my procedure I rested and watched tv  and gave myself a break for the day.

Please schedule your colonoscopy today.  It might not be a bad as you think.

 

 

My Journals Are Back In The Basement

I put my bin of journals back in the basement.

Sigh…

I don’t know why I thought I could get the shredding done in a couple of days.  After taking a closer look I realized that there was at least a thousand pages or more (probably more) of journal pages in the bin.

Four bins of a 1,000 pages or more.  I guess when you don’t look inside of the bins you forget what is there.

It’s going to take longer than expected….way longer.

Usually I would journal in a college ruled notebook, but in this bin I chose to write on college ruled loose leaf paper.  There are pages and pages and pages of loose leaf paper in the bin.

I didn’t leave the bin upstairs because I didn’t want anyone reading my journals.  As I was shredding I was skimming through the pages and I realized that I don’t want anyone to read them.  The pages are my private thoughts about what I was going through at the time and not anything else.  It’s how I chose to express myself at the time.

As I was skimming I did pick out pages that struck a cord in me or experiences that I forgot about and put them away for a later date.

I don’t know how I am ever going to get through all of these pages.  I think what I am going to do is just grab a handful when I have a couple of minutes and skim, keep and shred.

Luckily my mom’s cousin has a hobby farm.  I can shred and give the bags of shredded journal entries to her to use as bedding for her animals.

It’s all good.

 

 

 

Should I Shred My Journals?

Every so often I toss around the idea of shredding my journals (basically when I see them staring at me in the basement).  I been thinking of doing this off and on for the last ten years.

We are thinking of moving and I really don’t want to move them again.  This would be the fourth time I would have to move them, but for some reason I can’t get my head around shredding them.

I have the shredder plugged and one of the four 2 gallon bins I have my journals in next to it, but I can’t do it.  They are just written in plain notebooks or on plain loose leaf paper.  Nothing fancy.

Should I read them first or do I just shred them?

 

I don’t know what to do.

My heart is racing and I’m shaking.

What the hell am I so afraid of?

I’ve been keeping a journal for the last thirty years or so.  The entries I want to shred are from early on when I started writing in a journal.  I haven’t looked at them….ever.  Well, maybe once when I thought I should read my journals and keep the pages with events/entries I wanted to remember and shred the rest, but I didn’t even get thru one journal and gave up.

I don’t know why I hang onto them (for dear life) because I doubt if I will read them again.  I don’t want anyone to read them now or after I die.

So why?

I don’t know, but what I do know is I am going to take a deep breath and start shredding.  I may read the entries or I might not.  I’ll decide as I go.

All I know is I have to start now or I won’t do it. Plus, I don’t want to drag them downstairs again.  Those darn bins are heavy!

Here I go….wish me luck.

 

 

 

 

 

If You Are Over 50 Please Get a Colonoscopy

I wished I would have listened to my own words and got a colonoscopy when I turned 50, but I didn’t.  I thought I didn’t need it and that it could wait.

I was wrong.

I have been sick with diverticulitis since last Monday.  Pain in my right side (actually it felt my ovary was being ripped out), nausea, chills, and a full, tight stomach.  I spent four hours in the walk-in clinic. It hurt to walk so I had to be pushed in a wheel chair.  I had to have a CAT scan.   I’m on two different antibiotics for fourteen days.

I felt like I was going to DIE.

If I would have had a colonoscopy I would have been informed that I had diverticulitis and this whole situation would have been avoid, but I didn’t think I needed it.  The whole thing grosses me out so I didn’t go.

I wish I would have.

I could kick myself for not going sooner.  All of my time, my husband’s and family’s time and the money from the walk-in, CAT scan, blood and urine tests, medicine and the follow up visit could have been saved and I could be running around instead of on the couch.

Gotta run.  I have to call and schedule my colonoscopy.  I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and I don’t want to get yelled (again) for not having one scheduled.

Now go schedule yours.

 

 

Why do have all this stuff?

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been going through old pictures, newspaper articles, cards and other miscellaneous items that I have keep in bins in the basement.

I’ve gone through the large tub of pictures and the medium size tub of cards and such and put them into smaller containers.   It was hard and I wanted to quit many times because it was over whelming.

Why do I have all of this stuff? I asked myself fifty times while I was purging.

What was the sense of keeping my wisdom teeth that were pulled in the 10th grade?  I had six removed — having two sets of wisdom teeth runs in my family.   I probably thought that was a big thing back then. They were gross and still had blood on them. I tossed them.

I saved my retainer, too.  I have no idea why I saved this.  Did I think I was going to get braces again and that I could use the same retainer.  I don’t know….I tossed the retainer.

I think half of the bin was cards I received from people over the years.  I saved the envelopes too.  I let myself keep two cards that meant something to me for each person and the rest had to go.

Now that I’m into the second half of my life and I don’t have any kids I ask myself while I’m sorting is this going to be of any importance to anyone but me after I die.  I don’t want my husband or my family to have to get rid of all of that stuff when I’m capable of doing it today.

I think part of being fabulous in our fifties is keeping what speaks to us and getting rid of the rest.

Before I started to sort through my stuff I read a book called the life-changing magic of tidying up by Marie Kondo.  I have noticed changes in my life over the last couple of weeks.  I’ve lost two pounds and my jeans are loose  (yeah!).  I’m clearer on the direction I want my life to go.

I’ve tossed at least 5 small blue bags of paper out of my house and one garbage bag of old pictures and stuff.  It feels good to get rid of all of that stuff.  I feel lighter.

Now I have to go and shred all of the envolopes and all of the other stuff that has my address on.

Luckily my mom’s cousin has a hobby farm so what I recycle is going to good use.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stressed…….Me?

I was at a New Age store on Saturday and on the counter at the checkout there was one of those things that you can put your thumb on for ten seconds and by the color of the circle you can tell if you are stressed or not.

The circle was black.

Three different times.

I thought maybe it didn’t work properly because so many people used it.  Yeah, I know.  Wishful thinking on my part.

Do I think I am stressed?  No.

Obviously I am.

On some level I know this, but I am afraid to look at it.  Why?  I am not sure.

I am a happy go lucky girl.  Not a lot bothers me.  Maybe this is why I don’t think I am stressed.

What is stressed?  Do I know the whole meaning?

No.

I think it’s time to get to know myself better in this area of my life because I don’t want to go thru the rest of my life stressed out.  A woman in her fabulous fifties takes control of issues in her life.  She rules.  Her issues shouldn’t rule her.

It’s too bad the store is closing otherwise I could go in there and check my stress level every month.

Maybe there is another way to check my stress level.  I will have to google it.

I will let you know what I find out in a later post.