creative.mother.thinking

explaining my life to strangers

life

No more mushy brain

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It all started when I got pregnant. My IQ dropped by about 30 points at least, and my memory, once razor-sharp, resembled a sieve. I found this quite inconvenient and irritating but not as much as my husband. Well, once I figured out that it was because of hormones I thought I could deal with it, and surely it would all miraculously be reverted once I had the child, right? Um, not so much.

I had the child, and, as a lot of you know already, there still were hormones. breast-feeding hormones that make you not only a bit dumb, and forgetful, no, you also start to burst into tears for no apparent reason. (On the other hand I was like that when pregnant too.) Top that with serious sleep deprivation, and you end up with a woman quite different from the one I was before.

Still, a year later, breast-feeding was over, I was sleeping a bit more – not enough of course – and so I waited for myself to turn normal again. You know, with a functioning brain. One that didn’t forget everything. I felt foggy and mushy, as if I had to make do with a blunt mind. Since it clearly couldn’t be the hormones anymore, I blamed it on lack of sleep.

I already told you that I went to my doctor because I started to have my period about every three weeks which is a bit too often, and that I started to take medicine for it. Agnus castus to be precise with a helping of Vitamin B for additional help with PMS. Well, imagine my surprise when, after a while, my brain went out of its foggy, mushy state. For the first time since April 2002 I almost feel like myself again.

So it seems that indeed hormones had been making me dull, and forgetful, and put me in a low mood for six years.

It’s a bit embarrassing to be so driven by hormones. I feel that my body shouldn’t work like that. It should just function properly without me paying much attention. Please?

Notice, too, that I said “almost myself again”. I fear I will never regain all of my mind power back. And I’m a bit scared of menopause. The time when hormones will go wonky again. I feel that almost 30 years of PMS is enough.

I thought, I’d share though because there might be others out there blaming their foggy brains to lack of sleep when there might be other things responsible too.

At least it isn’t boring around here

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I might have had my first ever asthma attack on Saturday. But then, I might not.

My husband and I were going to mindfulness day again, and we were a bit late for the train. So we started running towards the station. Down the steps, up the steps, and along the platform. It was seven in the morning and winterly cold. So, I started running down the stairs, and halfway down I get winded and think, “That’s weird. I didn’t know I’m that unfit.” Halfway up the other stairs I started wheezing. And my legs felt heavy. And I thought I’d better stop running because I couldn’t anyway and somehow I didn’t feel that well. And then I walked as fast as I could seeing my husband running away from me towards the train, and then I started running again, and then my body did this weird thing where after each exhale it just went on exhaling spasmodically with a sound like a coughing.

I made it to the train (which then sat there right at the station for the next two minutes or so), plunged down on a seat, and went on to breathe like that for the next few minutes while thinking, “Well, that is odd. what is that? Oh, maybe I’m having an asthma attack.”

Somehow I wasn’t especially mindful for the rest of the day. I didn’t quite know what to do, or where to go but then I thought I’d better see a doctor. So, today in the morning I rang the office of one of my husband’s students who happens to be an internist, and when I told them, “I think I had an asthma attack.” they told me to come in immediately. The doctor first asked me a lot about heart conditions in my family (there are none), and I was thoroughly checked. So now I can say that as far as x-rays, ultrasound, blood tests, cardiograms, and that test where they see if your lungs work properly go, I’m perfectly healthy. While I’m happy that I didn’t have a heart attack, and that all the tests for asthma showed up negative, there still is an odd feeling to my breathing. And it feels like somebody is sitting on my chest.

So, I’m either a hypochondriac, or it’s like it often is, I go to the doctor and say that there’s something wrong, and they don’t find anything, and then I go back the next year, and they don’t find anything, and then I go back the next year, and after a few years of this finally they see that there might be something off after all. Or it might be like with my thyroid problem where I had my thyroid checked once a year for about twenty years before finding out that the only thing wrong with my thyroid is it’s unusual shape that leads doctors to think that I have a thyroid problem.

I think I won’t be running in cold weather again soon. And I think that I want to know more about allergic asthma. The doctor sent me home with, “Maybe it was an asthma attack but I didn’t find anything. If you don’t feel better in two days, come back. If you feel like you’re having an attack, come in immediately.”

At least he didn’t tell me I’m imagining it all. But then he has to take me seriously. I have been his singing teacher after all.

How was your weekend?

Celebrating the last day of summer break

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It’s a quiet celebration but a celebration nonetheless. (And there will be champagne. And salmon.) As much as I like not working I also love to start teaching again in fall. It really feels like fall today, the temperatures just dropped from “warm enough to swim in a lake” to “maybe we should turn on central heating again”.

I also love going back to a more regular life, I only hope that it won’t turn out to include only housework and teaching. We’ll see how that goes.

At the start of summer break I posted my to-do-list here on the blog. I thought it might be interesting to see what I managed to do. Here we go:

1. I did not read the books I borrowed from a friend (“Those Left Behind”, and “Quicksilver” by Neal Stephenson) but I read all the books of the “Twilight”-series (sorry, Mad), and a couple of mystery novels.

2. I did play my piano once or twice.

3. I did play my guitar a bit more often than the piano.

4. I spun 200g of combed merino top with my drop spindles. I’m quite pleased with how it went in the end. I would have spun more if I hadn’t decided to get me a spinning wheel. I’ve been waiting for that for ten days now, not wanting to start spinning something on the drop spindle.

5. I almost sew the dress I have been wanting to make since last summer. I spent an afternoon sewing it, then I found that the part where the top and the skirt connect (you know, the waist seam) are not the same width (that’s what happens if you just eyeball everything, especially seam allowances), and use marker that fades over time), I got frustrated and since then I have been waiting to have a bit of free time together with enough patience to fiddle with the seams for as long as it might take to somehow make those two things connect.

6. I sew two reusable grocery bags. One for a friend of mine, and one for me. Now I only have fabric and notions for one more bag around, a bag that will match the summer dress.

7. I went on vacation.

8. I didn’t take my son to the zoo. But we did a couple of other things together.

9. I didn’t visit the botanical garden (I wanted to see the roses in bloom, in fact I have been wanting to see that for years now but never managed.) I think the roses will be blooming again next year…

10. I went swimming two times. In actual natural water.

11. I had my eyes checked, and had my contacts cleaned so that I can wear them again.

12. I didn’t finish the red and the green cardigan I’m working on. But I finished another lace shawl.

13. I didn’t design socks for red cotton yarn and knit them. But I knit my “Poisoned with Chili“-socks, and I even got an award for them. I belong to a ravelry-group for German sock knitters who have a competition for “sock of the month”. What can I say, the winner got one more vote than me. But I’m happy and proud.

Socke des Monats August

14. I didn’t have dinner at the Osteria Italiana.

15. I didn’t see a movie with my husband in an actual movie theater

16. I did more exercise but not quite as much as I had wanted.

17. I didn’t read my two NaNoWriMo-novels

18. I wrote two stories that might turn into something longer. I’m really excited.

19. I did get back into the habit of doing housework but not cooking.

20. I didn’t sing and record any improvisations.

On my husband’s list there was also:

1. We didn’t go to the mountains with our son but decided to postpone the mountain hike until next year.

2. We didn’t go to the Olympiaturm with our son, but we went to a Buddhist celebration.

3. We did harvest our own potatoes. They are already eaten up (and they were delicious).

4. We did take a walk to the Andechs monastery with our son (and have some of their delicious beer of which our son doesn’t get any). We had considered this something like a long-ish stroll but to our son it was enough for one day. That was the reason we didn’t go to the mountains this year.

I did spend an awful lot of time dealing with my broken computer, first making sure it was broken, then taking it to the shop, getting my old computer out, setting that up again, looking for backups, and software, and updates, then I had my new computer fixed, and had to do the whole software, update, backup routine again since all data on my hard disk was lost. (Folks, please backup. Everything. regularly. And see if your backups work. I have a nice DVD labeled “iTunes music May 2008” that won’t load.)

Computer problems not withstanding these were about the best summer months we’ve had in years. We also bought a new bed for our son, spent quite a bit of time as a family, sat in beer gardens, and took it easy. It’s summer break, so it isn’t so much about to-do-lists.

Now I’m ready for fall.

And today isn’t only the last day of summer break, it’s also De‘s birthday. Happy birthday to you, De.

I didn’t quite know what to write about her but then I found I had said it all when I wrote her a letter last year. So, let’s drink a bit of champagne again, to a new school year, and another year of bloggy friends.

I’m officially not a drummer anymore

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because I sold my congas yesterday.

I didn’t quite know whether to sell them or not. At the beginning of 2007 we were a bit short on money and space, and I started to sell old books and stuff. And decided that it might be a good idea to find a new home for my congas. Only I never put them up for sale anywhere. Because of the blog post though I got e-mails from people who were interested in them. Only, this never let anywhere. So I resigned myself on keeping them, I love them very much even if they were mostly serving me as a very pretty keyboard stand.

But then I got another e-mail a few months ago from somebody who was interested in them, and yesterday they went away. It feels a bit weird but very good at the same time.

These congas were the only excellent musical instruments I ever bought for myself. I started drumming quite late, when I was almost 20. I had tried a bit in school and was fascinated by African music, and then I went away to Munich to study. There I met a guy who was learning how to play Brazilian music who later became my boyfriend. He was very surprised when I enrolled in the same school as him because to him I was “classical piano” girl. I have never been a good pianist though. In that school congas were our main instruments. We also learned how to play all the smaller percussion instruments that are used in Brazilian music but mostly it was congas. When a bit later I decided to switch my major to music education I had to choose a main musical instrument, and I just went for it and chose drumming. Which, in a way was very funny, because I only had been playing for about a year. Strangely enough it all turned out okay. There were only very few drummers there, and fortunately the professors had no way of telling how easy or difficult anything was that I played for exams, and so I earned my degree by dazzling them with music that looked harder to play than it was. Also, I switched my main instrument to voice, and I even threw in a bit of recorder playing at the exam. At that time the whole institute wasn’t as structured as it became later.

One problem with drumming is that you need quite a bit of equipment. I was very poor at that time, and so I always played instruments borrowed from my boyfriend, or the drum set in university. All that time I longed to have my own drum set, marimbaphone, congas, and surdo.

The summer I bought the congas I had worked for two months in order to buy a computer. I didn’t have one at that time, and it became apparent that I’d need one for doing papers and such. Then a drummer friend visited me and said, “What do you think, which are the best congas?” I immediately answered, “Michel Delaporte”. Those were the ones my conga teacher played and I loved their look, feel and sound. They were ideal for what I loved to play, though they are no good when you’re playing in something like a salsa band because their sound isn’t sharp and penetrating enough for that. I took my friend to the drum store and showed him some congas. He tried them and was disappointed. He played Cuban music which requires a different conga sound. He hated them but I fell in love.

A day later I went into the shop with my computer money and bought the congas he had tested. Without ever having played them myself.

I had just moved to a new apartment. I set up the congas and started to play. I was very happy. I had the best congas in the world. Ten minutes later a neighbor banged on my door. “What are you doing in there? Stop that noise!” She was very angry. Imagine somebody playing very deep, rich, resonating, booming drums in a building where you can here your neighbors sneeze through the walls.

So, since I didn’t have a room to practice in, that basically was it. I didn’t play them much for years. I bought them in 1990, and the first time they saw real action was when my husband and I started a Brazilian band together in 1998. We had that band for about two years before we gave up looking for places to play. There is a demo CD of that band but I think that most of the drumming on that CD was done by my husband since he’s much more precise than me.

You can hear the congas on some of my husband’s recordings. When I told him that they were sold he realized that he had used them much more than me for the last years. Though not enough to justify having them around all the time. (That was the point were I almost canceled the sale at the last minute.)

Yesterday when I helped load them into a car I was not sad as I had thought. I was relieved. For all the years that those congas had stood in my room they had called to me, “Play me! Play me! Play me!”, and I never had. And when I had tried, it sounded horrible. Not playing will do that to your technique.

I’m very happy that they have found a new home, and I hope they will be loved and played there.

Do you know what I did with the money? I ordered a spinning wheel. I know, crazy. We’ll see how that goes.

(Also, I’d like to remind you to send me any posts about social justice that you read or wrote in August until September 7th for the Just Posts. My e-mail is: creativemother AT web DOT de)

You must release jelly donuts

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if you want to lose ten pounds.

Yesterday my husband and I had one of these mornings where we talk, and talk, and talk, about us, and our relationship, and especially the problematic aspects of our relationship.

This, in particular, went on about me not doing housework. Well, not much anyway, and much less than my share. My husband kept asking me what he should do to deal with this. A reasonable approach would be to tell me that he wants me to do certain things, and then I’d go and do them, and everything would be alright. Another approach would be to assign certain work to each of us, then both would do their share, and everything would be alright. Alas, though I know that he’s unhappy with both the state of the house, and the huge amount of work that he has, I keep procrastinating about everything. (Right now, for example, I should have done the kitchen already, made myself a pot of tea, should have written my morning pages, and be on my way to cook lunch. Ahem.)

We both tried everything reasonable, and in the end the housework status between us is little better than about 14 years ago when we moved in with each other. He, of course, like a lot of women do, could just resign to the fact that I’m a lazy chauvinist pig, and do it all himself but then he would have no energy left for his music, something much more important than clean sinks. Unfortunately, we both need to have clutter-free and reasonably clean surroundings in order to be creative.

When he kept asking me what to do, and I couldn’t really say anything besides “I promise to do better.” which isn’t really helpful because I promised the same thing decades ago and about a millions times since then (and I am doing better than that, only this better isn’t very good), I resorted to pulling cards. I figured that might be helpful.

I pulled two cards for myself, one for help with the housework problem, and one to look at my life at general. Well. The solution to the housework-problem obviously is (besides just doing it): Priorities. For everything new something old has to go.

“Current routines, habits and even types of free times must be sacrificed so that you can open up to new energies.” (Sonia Choquette“Ask Your Guides Oracle Cards”)

Duh. That’s where I got my headline from. The book that accompanies the cards, I mean.

Because I still need to lose weight. Another week of beer, beer, Bavarian food, and extra helpings of ice cream, and sweets, thrown together with a definite lack of exercise has somehow failed to produce weight loss. I wonder why that is. Of course I know that I have to let go of, let’s say, eating handfuls of gummy bears at night, only I can’t really grasp the concept that this particular, tiny, innocent looking gummy bear, there in my hand, is the one that makes the difference between weight loss and gain. Surely this particular bite of pork roast can’t be changing anything? If I eat a bit less for breakfast? Please?

Seems like there is still something for me to learn. By the way I pulled a card for my husband too, to find a solution to the “Susanne isn’t doing her fair share of housework”-problem, and his said: Celebration. Seems like there’s still hope.

The card I pulled for my life in general said: Live from Your Spirit, always a nice one. And there it was, saying,

“If you feel that everything you’re doing right now isn’t working, or that every situation you face is working against you, be glad!” (Sonia Choquette: “Soul Lessons & Soul Purpose Oracle Cards”)

What? Be glad. As if. And then it goes on,

“Above all take a close look at how much of your behavior is simply an unsavory, unconscious “goulash” of conditioning acquired from childhood, peer pressure, the media, society, or even past lives, and not a reflection of your true spirit.”

It said I should eliminate overthinking and bad habits. Oops. (In German I’d say, “Treffer, versenkt.” that hit right between the eyes.)

I’m at a point where I don’t have much hope left that I’ll be able to do it. On the other hand I refuse to remain stuck in my old habits. If only they weren’t so comfortable and familiar.

It’s funny because if you back into my archives and look at what I wrote in the beginning of this blog you’d see that at that point I was quite hopeful that I could conquer my old bad, unconscious habits and build new, healthy, shiny ones. Now I’m telling myself that I can do it again, and again, and again, regardless of how long I’ll have to practice, and how often I will have to start over. All the while my poor husband will be suffering. And all this about things like cleaning, and eating.

What would you do in our place?