Thursday, June 30, 2011

Groggy Warning

I have a new pattern of grogginess: midnight to noon.

I try to counteract with caffeine, and sometimes that helps, but most days, the deeper I am in the midnight-to-noon time frame, the more I behave and sound like I live in California and have a medical marijuana prescription.

The odd thing is, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm sleepy. I can be wide awake and groggy, which is occasionally annoying, but usually it's more dreamy and relaxing for me as long as I'm not trying to problem-solve or intellectually analyze anything. My groggies have often been amusing to others who have witnessed it.

Last night, between about 8:30 pm and midnight, I was having a lovely time with a series of callers, when the start of the groggies hit me. I logged out, assuming that would be the end of my night, then I got an email from a favorite regular requesting time, so I logged back in to connect with him. We got on the phone, and he said, "You sound sleepy, or maybe a little stoned." Oops.

Thankfully, he thought it was cute that I was slightly incoherent, and since his normal modus operandi is to tease me until I'm begging to come (at which point I'm rarely totally coherent anyway), it all worked out fine.

But just in case, I thought I'd warn you: I turn into a pumpkin with a smooshy brain at midnight, and only get gigglier and dreamier from there.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Safe Check In

I've registered at Safe Check In (, a site that is providing a service I had imagined a few years ago (but of course never built, and now someone else is making money off the idea instead of me... good for them for not being lazy like I am).

The concept is that I give them information about me which would be helpful if I needed to be investigated as missing, including a recent picture, the make/model/color/plates of my car, and contact information for my husband and mom and sister.

Then, each time I leave the house, I check out with specific details for the outing: what I'm wearing, the route I expect to take, and who I am meeting. If I do not check in by the specified time, an escalation path starts where they first try to contact me, then my family members, then local authorities.

At home, I feel safe because of my pit bull mix with anxiety issues, but now I feel a little safer when I'm out and about, too, without having to pester my husband when he's traveling or working (or both) with the details of my boring daily activities.

I could feel on my trip to the grocery store today that I had let go of some tiny measure of concern which I didn't even know I had been feeling. I was very slightly more relaxed.

Isn't that neat?

Sunday, June 26, 2011


I took a while off from blogging (several of you dropped me a note to ask if I was okay - thank you!) for a few reasons, which can be summarized in this statement:

I had a bit of an adjustment disorder

(the wikipedia article is pretty good for explanation)

In the two months before Feb 15, we knew that we might need to move, and that my husband might need to find a different job. In the three months between Feb 15 and June 15:
  • we found out we would need to move (adjustment to new home)
  • we moved - not just into a new home, but from Austin to Houston, which was somewhat unexpected (adjustment to new city)
  • I had to figure out how social I could be living closer to my family without trashing myself vertigo-wise (adjustment to changes in social opportunities)
  • my husband got a job which required him to be mostly in Austin, even though I was in Houston, so we went from spending almost 24/7 together for two years to being in a long-distance relationship (adjustment in primary support relationship, adjustment in living arrangement logistics, adjustment in finances)
  • after a week on the new job, my husband got a better offer for a better job which requires him to frequently be out of state, which required a whole host of logistical adjustments (adjustment in primary support relationship, adjustment in living arrangement logistics, adjustment in finances)
  • I started a new anti-vertigo medicine which seemed for a while like it might give me a life free of vertigo crashes, so I significantly ramped up my level of physical and social activity (adjustment in health and activity level)
  • I had a severe vertigo crash on the new medicine, which was, to put it mildly, hugely disappointing, and it helped me realize I needed to re-think the level of activity I had been attempting to maintain on the new meds (adjustment in health an activity level)
It was a lot to adjust to. Apparently I needed a bit of time to obsessively play DungeonRaid on my iPhone and wander around Houston dog parks engaging other pet fanatics in long conversations about training tips and breed-specific behaviors.

I am in week six-ish of my "new" horse tranquilizer anti-vertigo medicines, so I will now stop calling them "new" and will heretofore simply refer to them as my medicine. 

I am absolutely delightedly grateful that my meds my have allowed me to go from an activity level of about 40% of my pre-vertigo potential to about 60%. I thought for a while that I was gonna get 80% and I won't lie, I didn't take it particularly well when I found out that 80% was out of reach. 80% would have been nice.

But 60% is a damn fine improvement, and I plan on enjoying the hell out of it, now that I seem to be mostly recovered from the shock of losing the dream of 80%.

The most peculiar change, is what happens when I push it too far: before I get dizzy, I get sleepy, as if the sedation effects of the horse tranquilizers kick into high gear, accompanied by an intense craving for baked sweet goods like donuts and cupcakes. If I don't rest immediately, I'm out of commission for a while with dizziness and nausea. Well, maybe the nausea is caused by convenience-store-quality pastries, like plastic-wrapped honey buns and powdered sugar donuts. It's hard to say, really.

But I am a lucky lucky woman indeed: I can do more, my recovery rest periods are shorter, and I am more productive overall.

Well, as long as I don't reinstall DungeonRaid...

New Lover Warning Labels

I should have the following warning labels attached to me when meeting with new lovers in person for the first time:
  • I tend to avoid looking directly into people's eyes for more than just a brief moment at a time because it makes me dizzy faster (eyes are wiggly)
  • Although I go limp and submissive when some people get all rough and tough and toppy with me, other people inspire giggles when they attempt to be growly
  • I need to take a break about once an hour; thankfully, I've never been with a lover who can go for longer than an hour straight with no break, either, even without vertigo
  • If you are in from out of town with no rental car, and I am providing your local transportation, my car will probably smell like dogs who went straight from a dog park pool to my back seat, because I will probably forget to get my car washed or detailed
  • I will probably get a manicure and pedicure before your arrival, just to feel pampered and pretty, but I will probably guess completely wrong whether you prefer women to look natural and neutral or vamped up and slutty
  • Our first moments together spent in person, adjusting to each others' energy, might be spent at a grocery store to ensure there are beverages and snacks in the hotel room, and it might not occur to me until later that some people may find this bit of practical planning utterly unromantic
  • I'm the type who figures things out by trying, which sometimes results in the jacuzzi jets positioned for the middle back to spray me unceremoniously in the face
  • If you insist on trying the whole spend-the-night-together concept despite my repeated attempts to explain my extraordinary levels of sedated grogginess before and after sleeping (anti-vertigo med side effect), I will feel free to use the phrase "Go away now" liberally
  • Conversations attempted before noon sometimes result in me staring at you in silence for an inordinately long time; if this happens, please know that I am trying to figure out if I still retain the ability to speak
  • I lose track of time in the shower, especially before noon, so if you postulate that "45 minutes should be enough time for you to shower before they close down the breakfast bar", I might stare at you like a grumpy child and shake my head "no" with no further explanation
  • If you talk me into seeing where I live, and I do not straighten and clean before your arrival, I will spend at least an hour in an utterly non-sexy "getting stuff done" mode where I straighten and clean, during which any attempts to interact with me around sexy topics will be met with confusion at best, and the phrase "Go away now" at worst
  • If I forget to stay caffeinated enough after 11 pm, I may slip into a nighttime version of the pre-noon grogginess which would work fantastically well for someone with Real Doll fantasies, but perhaps might not work as well for people who primarily find stimulation from intelligent interactions with coherent human beings
  • If we are staying at my place, and I slip into my Real Doll imitation about midnight, but wake up to go potty in the middle of the night and remember that you have no idea what to do for breakfast, I might leave a bowl, spoon, packets of instant oatmeal, measuring cup, and insane amounts of Splenda in front of your room so you will trip over it in the morning, and neither of us will be able to figure out how any human being could ever require that amount of Splenda in that sized bowl
  • If you want me to wear an outfit that you have seen in pictures and do not inform me of this ahead of time, it may not have been worn or washed since I took those pictures, which will certainly cause delays
  • If you want me to cook for you... no, no, no, really, honestly, you don't want that, just trust me on this point
None of this is to imply, of course, that I have been a bit preoccupied with having a new lover visit me from out of town for multiple days in a row. Pffff. That would be ridiculous.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


A long-time caller, one of my very first, and a good friend, wrote to me, with a subject line of, "Happy". He opened the email by saying "I was reading your blog and I read about your new medicine. I smiled a lot. I'm still smiling. I'm incredibly happy for you."

What followed was a long email, with fun pictures embedded, detailing some wonderful days he has had recently, and some moments that had given him great pleasure: treasured times with loved ones and new friends. He's a fantastic storyteller, so it was a delight to read, and I felt honored that he had shared his private moments with me.

He closed it with, "Still, none of that compared to the joy I felt when read you felt better."

I keep re-reading that sentence, and it keeps making me cry. I think I'm starting to let myself hope that my new medicines might work out long-term. Somehow, this sentence helped make it real for me: I might be feeling a little better.

Thank you for being happy for me, love. And thank you for telling me.