Underneath my yellow skin

Taking a risk–and my daily weather report

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I’m back with the daily weather report. It’s 50F right now, but got up to the sixties earlier. Here is my post from yesterday in which I talked about We’re supposed to get up to 78F tomorrow. I have a private lesson, which we might actually be able to do outside if it doesn’t rain (afternoon showers are predicted). I don’t mind going outside in a drizzle as long as there are no flies/mosquitos/wasps/other bugs. If there are any bugs, I will not go outside.

Bugs love me so much. The last time I went out when there were bugs, I got bit by a wasp–and I couldn’t help but scratch it. Therefore, it got infected, and I had to go to the doctor for antibiotics. Fortunately, a ten-day regiment (started with seven and added three) worked–even though the first seven days didn’t completely do the job. My finger was swollen to approximately four times the regular size (only a slight exaggeration), and I feared that it was going to be worse than it actually was. Fortunately, the last three days of the treatment took care of it, otherwise, who knows what the fuck I would do?

My long-standing joke that isn’t really a joke is that I’m allergic to everything including air. Another is that I like the outdoors as long as there’s a door between it and me. The third is that I like the outdoors, but the outdoors hates me.None of these are really jokes, though. Everything outside affects me negatively, which means I stay inside as much as possible.

When I used to play tennis as a kid with my family and my parents’ friends, the mosquitoes would eat me alive while they left my father strictly alone. As a result, he did not believe that they bit me (anything that did not happen to him did not happen at all), which was doubly frustrating.

Honestly, it’s such a pain. Whenever I’m outside, I feel like I have to be on my guard. The problem is that I can’t really protect myself against things like wasps because they’re too fast for me. If I didn’t have to care about infection, then I wouldn’t worry so much. I don’t mind getting bit (I do) as long as the bites don’t blow up.

To wildly switch subjects, my mom told me about being audited by the regulatory board that governs the field she’s in. She needs to get 40 credits (which is common in many careers) a year, which she easily did because she taught/trained a lot. The problem was that she did not keep any records, so she has no proof that she did any of it.

She complained that the board had gotten so strict with the little laugh she did when she was annoyed/flustered/upset. She also has an issue doing anything online because she has an almost phobic response to it. She knows that it’s irrational, but she can’t do anything about it. Or rather, she won’t get the help she needs to get past it.


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My daily report for shits and giggles

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I’m back with the daily weather report. Why? Because it’s still occupying my mind, and I’m going to keep going on with it until I’m bored with it. Here is my post from yesterday in which I did just that and a whole lot more. It’s 62F now, which seems to be pretty normal for this time of year. I ran to the pharmacy and for the first time this season, I wore shorts. Long shorts, yes, but shorts, nonetheless. It was such a nice day out, and it’s finally spring? I think? I am not an outdoor person at all, but it felt nice to have the sun on my face. And 62F is right at the top of my comfort zone.

This is another thing I know and accept about myself–I hate the heat. I have hated it since I was little. It doesn’t make sense because I’m hypothyroid, which usually means quick to feel the cold. However, I was hyperthyroid before that, which maybe is where my hatred of heat comes from. It should have gone away when my thyroid was destroyed, but it did not.

Now, my tolerance of/enjoyment of the cold is slightly lower than it was before I hit menopause, but I still much prefer it to the heat. And, to me, the heat is anything over 65F. Actually, up to 70F is tolerable. Once we go over 70F, then all bets are off.

Back when I was younger, I was much more into the cold than I am now. I mean, I was dancing in the snow naked at midnight for funsies. I haven’t done it in some time, but it made me feel so alive. I may have to revive it for next winter. Then again, I’m not sure I will be able to handle it, either. I’m not going to do it foolishly if my body can no longer deal with it.

Similarly, I used to play a fun (for me) game of seeing how long it would take me in the winter before I rolled up my window. When I was at my peak, I could tolerate the cold until roughly -10F. Then, I would reluctantly roll the window up. After that, it was another new game of when was I going to turn on the heater? I did it once or twice a winter, which was about how often I used the heater inside the house. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. I probably used it three to five times a winter in the house–and that was mostly as I slept.

I can tell I’m getting older because I have my heater in my house at 62F all day round instead of 62F during the day and 60F at night. Yes, it’s just a matter of 2 degrees, but it’s still a significant different.

I’m still adjusting my sleeping schedule. I went to bed around 4:30 a.m. last night and got up at noon. Well, a bit before it. So seven hours of sleep, which is decent for me. I got up once to pee, but quickly went back to sleep again.


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More about whatever’s on my mind

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Am I continuing my weather reporting? I sure as hell am. Here is my post from yesterday in which I just meandered over the whole place. Why? Because I can, but also because it’s been so fascinating to me. We got down to 44F last night, which is cold for this time of the year–but not cold enough for me. And right now? It’s 66F–which seems about right for *checks calendar* Mid-May.

I would love one more frost warning before the season is over. I don’t think it’s going to happen. I am calling it again; winter is finally over. On May 11th. With five to six months to go to the next winter. As I’ve said, I’m loving it because I like the cold. I get so grumpy when the heat starts rising and the bugs start coming out to play. I feel like I’m at best half-alive in the summer. The spring is not my favorite, either. Fall makes me happy because it’s so pretty and because it tells me that winter is coming, but it pales in comparison to winter.

Winter is and will forever be queen. Even though I’m getting a bit more sensitive to cold because of perimenopause (which is now, I think, just plain menopause), I still much prefer it to being hot.

Side note: It’s so weird. Perimenopause/menopause, I mean. I’ve always been lucky that I only got my period two to four times a year for three days at a time. One light day, one heavy day (which is probably light/medium for other people), and the third day being light or almost nonexistent). I rarely got cramps, and if I did, they didn’t last very long. My biggest issue with getting my period was that I could never predict when it would come. That meant I had to carry products with me most of the time. Not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, of course, but just slightly irritating.

I did worry about the fact that I got my period so few times a year, but my doctor told me as long as it was twice a year, it was fine. Which was (barely) what I got. Once my doctor clarified that it was fine, I stopped worrying about it and was just glad that it had such a minimal impact on my life.

I will say that the only time that wasn’t true (my period schedule) was when I was having sex on the regular. Then, my period came every thirty-five to forty days, and it was pretty obvious why. From a biological perspective, of course my body wanted to be ready to procreate whenever I had sex. Therefore, my previous ‘schedule’ of getting my period once every three to six months would simply not do. was I pleased about it? Yes and no. I did not want to have my period more often (as I absolutely did not want to get pregnant), but I did appreciate knowing approximately when it was going to occur.


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Back with more bullshit

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I am back with another weather report. It’s going to fascinate me until the threat of a frost has passed. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be until winter comes–and then it won’t be at all. it’s currently 44F, and this is the lowest it’s supposed to get in the next week or ten days. I’m wearing a hoodie, which I had thought I would not need again this season.

I have said several times that I love the cold. If it could be under forty year round, I would be down with that. The problem is when it switches from seventies to forties over the course of a single day. My body is so not happy. Even though I’m mostly inside where the temp is a calming 62 degrees.

I managed to get to bed around three-thirty, which is istll within the range of when I want to get to bed. I’m shooting for three, but I’ll take this as a huge win considering that I’ve gone from eight in the morning to three-thirty within a matter of days.

It’s got me thinking about other problems in my life and how I deal with them in a similar fashion.  What I mean is that I ignore them, try the obvious solutions, ignore them some  more, then try something radical that may or may not work.

Like with my sleep issues, the bad decision I made (staying up for 72 hours) led to the better decision I made (reverting to my previous habit of doing what I neded to do before doing the fun stuff). Today, I backslid a bit, but as long as I get my shit down by three-thirty/four, it’s fine. Or at least keeping me on track. As I said in yesterday’s post (or the one before, maybe), I would ideally like to make three in the morning my consistent go to bed time. I’m close to it and I’m doing a good job, but I’m worried that I’ll let myself slip little by little until I’m back to my old schedule.

I got a good seven hours last night, but it could have been more if  Ihadn’t fucked up my alarm. What I mean is that I didn’t reset my alarm from 11 a.m. (for my Zoom Taiji class yesterday)  to something later than that. That means that I got up at eleven, even though I was aiming for twelve.

I do wonder what is fucking up my memory even more so than it’s normally fucked. It’s been markedly worse in the last few weeks, and I’m sure it’s a vicious cycle with my lack of sleep. or rather, broken sleep. I have accepted I now have a shitty memory since my medical crisis, but it’s gotten even worse in the past few weeks.


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Groove is in my head

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I’m back with the weather report once again. Right now it’s 55F, which is nice for me. It’s supposed to get down to near-freezing tonight, which…look, we all know I love the cold. I think I have been pretty clear on that. However, I am having the roughest time with the wildly fluctuating temps. My body is, I mean. Here is my post from yesterday, and I’ll just keep going with my musings in this post.

At the same time, I’m just exhausted from the lack of sleep. I mean, I don’t sleep well in general, but I’ve been managing to have decent sleep until the last month or so. Maybe a few months? It’s been especially terrible in the last few weeks. Going to bed at eight or nine and still forcing myself up by two-thirty because I was determined to have a regular time to get up. I was hoping that it would force me to go to bed earlier. Did this work? No. Did I really think it would work? No.

I know myself. I know the way my brain (doesn’t) work. I know what I can make myself do and what I can’t. And yet, I still foolishly do things I know won’t work. It’s not even as if I’m fooling myself–it’s me trying to convince me that I can fool myself.

I think this is one of the things that frustrates me the most about my weird-ass brain. I know what I can and can’t do, but I still try to do the thintg that I know won’t work with the futile hope that it’ll end differently this time.

What I’ve learn is that I just have to do something big and completely different. NOT stay up for 72 hours straight, but moving from one computer to another by a certain time after actually doing the first thing I need to do. This is how I used to do it back in the day before I had my medical crisis.

Side note: I’m exhausted. I’m so tired. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. After having so much trouble sleeping and being so sleep-deprived, now that I’ve actually gotten a few nights of decent sleep, I’m more tired than ever. I’m not alarmed because that’s how it’s been in the past. My body can get used to not sleeping much (at least when I was younger), but once I start making up the deficit, my body wants more.

I don’t know if there is ever a point when I’ll be truly caught. I’m guessing that if I do this for, say, like six months, I’ll make up a good portion of that. Even if I don’t, I’ll still get more sleep and more consistent sleep than I have already so it’ll be a net plus. That’s the thing I have to remind myself about any progress I make–it’s progress. Even if it’s not as big or as much as I want, I’m still better than I used to be.


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We’re back in hell again

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I’m back with the weather report. It seems like spring is actually here (at least during the day). It’s currently 69 (nice), and it’s supposed to be in the high sixties to high seventies for the next week,, with it going back to the high forties/low fifties during the night. Dare I say that winter is finally done for the year?

*Hastily checks the weather again*

Yes. I am calling it done on winter this yaer. Three months after it would normally end, but that’s Minnesota, especially in the years of our dastardly climate change. I don’t have much to say about that because that’s a war we’ve lost (among others). We could ‘win’ the climate change war if we wanted, but it would take much more effort than anyone is willing to give.

I’m on day two of going to bed at a reasonable-ish time (three-thirty a.m.), and I got almost eight hours. Well, seven-plus. Which is a big feat for me these days. And I only woke up once. Which is also unusual for me these days.

Big thanks to my friend who suggested that I just set a hard limit for myself in getting off my computer. I modified it by getting off my desktop to go to my laptop (which is by where I sleep) in  order to do the last thing I need to do before going to bed.

I realized that part of my problem was that I was literally propping myself up (at my desk) when I should be going to bed. It was especially bad yesterday because I kept snoozing off, but I stubbornly refused to go to bed. I’m so like a toddler in that way. I will fight off all attempts to make me go to bed. As I’ve said several times, I’ve been doing this since I was seven, and I have the hardest time stopping.

With the same friend I mentioned above, I was talking about how some flaws can just be accepted while others need to be dealt with. This one needs to be dealt with, yes, but I can accept a 3 a.m. to 11 a.m. as my sleep schedule if I can do it regularly. I’m a bit bemused at how easily I made the hard switch because thats’ not something I’m usually able to do. I think it’s a few things.

One, making the physical change to the other room at a much earlier time makes it easy just to naturally fall asleep. Two, my sleep has been so shitty in the last few weeks that just moving to the location of sleep signified to my brain that it was time to sleep. So when I actually wanted to sleep, it was much easier just to let go and let sleep take over. Three, my body was just at that point. It had to sleep whether I wanted it to or not. Four, I do believe that my attempt to stay awake for 72 hours (stopping just shy of 48) jumpstarted the change.


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Whatever the hell I want

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I’m back with the daily weather report (only because it’s been so wild lately). Last night,  we hit freezing for a hot minute. Now, it’s a toasty 57 degrees, and it seems like we’re finally having spring. We’re actually supposed to hit 81 a week from Saturday. While I personally would be happy if we never went over eighty (seventy!), I know most people would not agree with me. Also, it’s really bad for the climate. At least I’m assuming the fact that we are perpetually in winter isn’t good for the climate in general.

So, last night, I managed to go to bed at three. Which, for me, is four to five hours earlier than usual. These days, anyway. And I managed to get eight-ish hours of sleep. Which, again, these days is a fucking miracle. See, I’ve been going to bed later and later, but I’ve been firm about getting up at the same time. This is the way I’ve been trying to fix my broken sleep schedule. I’ve said for some time that I’m trying to make it three to eleven because that’s about as normal as it gets for me. Also, that’s what actually works best fro me.

Side note: K and I have talked about this several times. When she was here, she was a night person like I was. Although she could not indulge in it the way I do because she’s a teacher. Which, as you probably know, has crazy early hours. That sometimes runs into very late hours. And once she had a kid, well, she had to sleep pretty much whenever she got an hour here and there. But back in those days, she was happiest with three to eleven like me.

I know all the experts say you should get to bed before midnight, blah, blah,blah. I have not gotten to bed before midnight since I was seven–except for the time right after my medical crisis. It only took a year for me to get back to going to bed around three in the morning, though.

I don’t know what kicked me into going to bed at five or six, but I feel like it’s a fairly recent event. Maybe the occupation of Minneapolis by ICE? Actually, that’s possible, but I feel it was a bit further back than that. At any rate, going to bed at seven in the morning (and I’ve gotten as late/early as nine) is too late even for me.

If I could make my sleep schedule three to eleven on the regular, I would be satisfied with that. There is no way I can make it much earlier than that. I have tried to target one in the morning, but that’s when I feel the most awake. Midnight to three or four, to be precise.


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Walking in a winter wonderland

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I’ve been fascinated with the weather in the last week or so (well, all “spring” really, and spring is in quotes because it’s been anything but)  because it’s as if winter is just refusing to leave. We Minnesotans are used to variant weather in March and April, but things are usually pretty settled by May. Here is what I wrote about it (amongst other things) in yesterday’s post.

I personally would not mind if we did not hit eighties or nineties at all during the spring/summer, but I know that would make most other people sad. Since I don’t go outside much, I should just suck it up and wish for eighties and nineties for other people. I have air con, too, which I try not to use. I am conscious that it’s bad for the environment, and while I prefer the cold to the heat, I’m fine up to 76*, but anything over that is unbearable.

Sometimes, I wish I had known shit about me when I was much younger. Such as the fact that I’m very sensitive to any external stimuli. Not just heat, which is my nemesis, but other things such as scents, light, and sounds. Not just loud sounds, but different kinds of sounds. For instance, I hate ASMR. So much. It’s like nails on a chalkboard for me. Even if it’s done by people I adore, I have to grit myy teeth to get through it. Basically, any kind of whispering is irritating to me.

Most fabrics bother me, too. My life is a series of irritating things–physically, I mean. Most of them are on the level of what irritates me in the literal sense, but there are some that just irritate me in colloquial sense, too.

My sleep is such a hot mess right now. I think it’s the worst it’s ever been. No wait. That’s not true. That’s recency bias. It was much worse when I was in college. At least I’m getting sleep now–six to eight hours. Back then, I got four if I was lucky.

I know what I have to do; I just really, really, really rebel against doing it. It really is me fighting my own brain, which is not easy to do. More than that, it’s nearly impossible. Sometimes, it’s physically uncomfortable when I do something that my brain doesn’t want me to do. That’s not an excuse, obviously. I need to do what I need to do, and I need to find a way to make it tolerable.

One thing I’ve decided to do is return to what I used to do that worked for me. There are many things that don’t, but one thing that did was making sure I did what I needed to do before allowing myself to chill out. I mean, this is probably what most people do on the regular, but it’s really hard for me to keep my brain on track.

I don’t want to use it as an excuse, but I really feel this to be true after my medical crisis. Before that, I had discipline to do what I needed to do before relaxing. Since my medical crisis, it’s really hard to keep my focus on one thing. The only exception is when I’m practicing my weapons. Even that, though, is done one form at a time (so a few minutes per form). I will say that when I’m teaching myself a new form, I can focus for up to a half hour or however long it takes me to teach myself the new posture.

Other than that, though, I have to really put my mind to something to focus for more than an hour.

Let me be clear that I’ve always had difficulty focusing unless I was hyperfocusing on something. It’s just that it’s gotten even harder now, and I feel likke it’s not completely my fault. Meaning, it’s not something that I can just fix by pure willpower.

It’s diffiuclt for me to say, but I’m feeling pretty hopeless right now. There is so much I want/need to do, but I have the hardest time doing any of it. My personal life is a mess as is the world around me. I don’t feel like anything I do matters. I came back to life four-and-a-half years ago, and what have I done with my bonus time? Not much of anything.

This is not me being hard on myself; this is me being real. I have wasted my bonus days just as I have wasted much of my previous life. I know that the only answer to that is to actually start doing something–but that’s so much easier said than done. With all that is broken in my brain, it’s hard to think of a way to fix even a portion of it.

It’s the same with the country around me. It’s all fucked. It’s so fucked. We are living in the worst time, and I don’t have the energy to deal with it, honestly. I’m feeling pretty low at this moment, and I’m not sure if I want to claw my way out.

I’ve always suffered from depression and anxiety, and it’s been up and down all my life. Both were bad up until my medical crisis, and then,  it was drastically different. My deperession decreased by 90% and my anxiety went down by 60%. These are rough estimates. I would say that my depression has ratcheted back up to be about 90% of what it originally was (so still a 10% decrease) and my anxiety is maybe 80% of what it was pre-medical crisis.

So overall, it’s not quite as bad as it once was, but it’s still bad. I think the worst part of it is that I just don’t have the energy/wherewithal to do anything about it. Each day passes as an imitation of the one before, and I feel helpless to do anything to make it better. I know that one thing that may help is seeing a therapist, but it’s cruelly ironic that the thing that may help the most is often somethnig that seems so far out of reach.

I really am at my wit’s end. I don’t know what to do.

*Fine, of course, is relative. I mean fine as long as I don’t have to move much. Bearable is the better word.  And as long as I’m shielded from the elements.

Winter is coming?

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It’s 32 degrees right now, and we have a frost advisory. A FROST ADVISORY!

It’s May 6th. For fuck’s sake. And, yes, I said this yesterday as well, but it was 40 ‘feels like’ 39 at the time. Now it’s 32. This is right in my wheelhouse, but as I’ve mentioned before, my body is really unhappy with the bouncing up and down that’s been happening over the past few weeuks. The average (mean) for May is 59. We have slid around that temp, but mostly been below it so far. We’ve had a few days in the seventies, including one that was high seventies.

I am getting whiplash from the weather. If it stayed in the 30s or 40s for several weeks, then I’m fine. If it’s in the 50s, I can deal. Low 60s and we’re starting to get in my uncomfortable zone. Anything over 70 is not what I want at all. If it creeps over 80, I’m done.

I remember I used to visit Ian when he lived in Raleigh. It would get well over a hundred with so much humidity in the summer. I would be dripping wet and hot, even after taking a shower. It made me realize how much I hated the heat. I mean, I have always hated the heat, but this just underscored how ill-suited  for it I was. I wilt and become listless, and I do not want to move at all.

When K lived here, we would go out once a month or so. In the winter, I would be perky (well, as perky as I get–which isn’t that perky) and happy because I love the cold. She would grumble and shiver, even if we were being heated, and she would say, “Doesn’t the cold make your spine scrunch up?” I said, “No! It makes me feel alive!” I may have laughed maniacally at the end, too, but that’s just because I’m so happy in the cold.

On the other hand, when we went out in the summer, I was hot and miserable. I hated it so much when we were outside. Once, we were at a beach when it was in the nineties, and I just wanted to dive in the water and never get out. That would have taken too much energy, though. More to the point, I did not want to be outside at all. The heat makes me listless, miserable, and if I can’t get out of it, angry.

I’m really frustrated with myself right now. Two reasons. One is my sleep. I’ve always struggled with it*, and I’m trying really hard to make my bedtime reasonable. By reasonable, I mean 3 a.m. That’s reasonable to me.

Side note: One thing I’ve talked about with my friends is how there are flaws you need to fix and flaws that you can accept. My sleep is one that I dearly want to fix, but I am having such a hard time with it. An example of a flaw that I do not care to fix–working to the end of a deadline. I’ve accepted it and made it work for me. As long as I make the deadline, that’s all that matters.


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I can’t believe it’s May

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Right now, it’s 40 degrees, but it ‘feels like’ 39. On May 5th. We are nearly halfway through the year, and we’re still having frost warnings. As anyone who knows anything about me knows, I love cold weather–the colder the better. The problem is that I do not love cold mixed with hot. Going from one to the other day to day is really fucking with my inner something or the other. Not sure what, but it’s really hard on my body. Even if it’s a steady 62 degrees in the house, my body is rebelling against the wild temperature swings. I mean, it was over seventy a few days ago, and now we’re almost below forty.

I switched the thermometer to AC once or twice in the past few weeks, but then I had to put it back to the heater for the rest of the time. It’s currently on heater and I’m just leaving it there because I don’t actually turn on the AC until it’s at least 75. It used to be even higher, but I’m living a little in my old age. Actually, I only keep it that low during my Taiji and Bagua routine and then bump it back up to 76.

I would not be unhappy if we did not go over eighty for the whole summer. not only do I hate hot weather, but I hate the bugs that the hot weather brings. Ants, flies, mosquitoes, wasps, and all the other jerks that I do not want to encounter. I rarely go outside for long stretches of time because all I see are enemies. One of the few times I had an outside private lesson with my teacher two years ago in the summer, I got bitten by a wasp. It got infected, and I had to go to the doctor.

Mosquitoes love me, too. I remember playing tennis with my father when I was younger. The mosquitoes would devour me while they left him strictly alone. It didn’t matter how much I drenched myself in mosquito repellant–I would be covered with bites by the time I got home.

When I was in my early twenties, I spent two months in Taiwan–in their summer. One time, the nurse at the house (long story) gave me a ride on her motorbike. Not a motorcycle–more like a scooter. When we got home, my legs were covered with mosquito bites–and I mean covered. There were upwards of forty of them on each leg. I didn’t know for sure because I lost count. Then, an hour later, they swelled up really badly. Each was about the size of a tangerine. I probably should have gone to the doctor, but I didn’t. I was lucky that nothing bad happened (other than massive itching), but it really underscored  how much the outdoors hated me. It didn’t matter whether I like the outdoors or not because it fucking wants to kill me.


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