Type A with a side of B

I visited one of my local haunts yesterday.    It was locked up, but a friend was already inside.  He let us in and wandered around with us.  We talked about the past, the present and naturally, the future.  He expressed a genuine concern regarding my health and was quick to ask if I would be roaming around on a more regular basis.  Sadly, I shook my head and confided the purpose of stopping by.  I wanted to get my personal effects and bring it all home.

I could read his face.  He was disappointed.  He and I had been “regulars” there.  There was always something to do or organize.  This is where I profess my type A personality…  We got my room (406 to be specific) and the lump in my throat began to alert my tear ducts “It’s time.”  The custodians had packed up a lot of my things already; so at first glance it seemed bare.  It was obvious that I hadn’t been there in awhile.

I wouldn’t leave a room like that, ever.  There were empty food containers on desks, a forgotten denim jacket on the back of a chair and empty boxes strewn about.  I made my way to the front book shelves, picking up a box and some of the papers which were left on the floor and turned around.  My whole world, the one where I put in thousands of hours grading, cleaning or organizing was gone.  Poof!

My first instinct was to get started on cleaning up and putting things where they belonged (my judgement).  The Type A in me was making it’s way to the surface.  I can’t focus when the environment is not orderly.  My husband and friend stopped me and reminded me that I wasn’t supposed to be “doing” anything laborious-per my doctors.  I was just supposed to point to what was mine and they would pack it up, transport it to their vehicles and then get it home.  So I did.  They did.  We tried to keep the mood light.  They joked about my “Shakespeare Action Figure.”  I had another one for Poe.  According to the custodian, I have a lot of “dolls” and glitter and pink.

My room was once my place of respite.  The building belonged to me and Michael- if you follow the “possession is 9/10 of the law.”  for 14 years. 

Packing up 14 years of my life is not supposed to look like it did yesterday, it’s supposed to have a nice and clean entrance and exit.  

My trek yesterday was just so sad.  My heart was breaking.  I loved it all once.  The smells, sights, sounds, of the hallway were comforting.  There was nostalgia for each whimsical item in my classroom or at least a story.  I had two homes… one for 90% of my existence and the other home clean, organized and full of heirlooms, nostalgia/stories.  It’s the way I am. Period.

The doctors told me that stress is a huge factor and gets my Adrenal Fatigue all out of control.  They want me to learn how to genuinely relax and loosen up the reins on life.  Ha!

I’m supposed to drop the Type A gig and work on being a B.  Remaining Type A could & has proven to make for a very difficult existence… However,  is being Type B a liscense for being unkempt?  Do B’s care about providing a space for everyone to feel safe (especially in room 406)?  Do B’s notice the little things?  Do they react or just turn away when a rule is broken?  Are they hippies?

My garage now harbors my recently liberated personal effects from room 406.  My husband expects to have his garage back before the first snow of the season.  

I understand where he is coming from, he  doesn’t deserve to have to step over boxes and pick up things that have been strewn about.  Sound familiar?  

Right now I’m processing it all and deciding what should go where.  My Type A will get it all taken care of.  It is just me.  Period.

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I wish…

As you may know, my husband and I were lucky enough to attend the Andrea Bocelli Concert in Detroit just a couple of days ago (12-3-17). It was wonderful!

I had a great time until the show was over. You see, that is when my Hashimoto’s took over my body. I lost control of my senses and was in a black out. 😑

What I remember

We were using LYFT Car Service to shuttle us to and from the concert (Strongly recommended). I messaged LYFT that we needed to be picked up.

As we were walking out of the seating area, I kept getting dizzy and losing my balance on the stairs. My husband and the Usher were very helpful. I was also starting to sweat. Mind you, by that point we were waiting near a door which was kept open and the temperature was 32*. I was only getting worse though. Then I started shaking/ trembling.

Everyone assumed it was because of the temperature, but I knew it was my body’s way of telling me to get some food and water asap. The LYFT driver was having a hard time finding us, so we walked to an area she was able to get to. I don’t remember walking πŸšΆβ€β™€οΈ anywhere. My mind was spacey.

I was leaning against a pillar outside of a parking garage. This was the only thing I could find to hold me up.

~~~~~~out~~~~~~~

When I came to, I was sitting in a chair surrounded by the Parking Attendants.

Female Attendant: “Look she’s awake!”

“Everyone check your pockets, this girl doesn’t look too great.”

~~~~~out~~~~~~~~~

“You need food don’t you? Can you talk?”

“I want you to try these raisins. Do you like raisins?”

I nodded, yes.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

I nodded, yes.

Male Attendant: “Here give her this! I have a banana and a granola bar!”

~~~~~~~~out~~~~~~~~~

Female Attendant: “It’s ok. It’s just water. Open your mouth, I’ll help ya.”

~~~~~~~~~out~~~~~~~~

Husband: “Brande! The driver is here! Where are you? Brande!”

Male Attendant: “Are you with him? Are you Brande?”

I nodded, yes.

Female Attendant: “She’s in here. She slid down that pillar and blacked out a few times.”

Male Attendant: “We gave her all that we could find: raisins, a banana, a granola bar, some peanuts & a water.”

Husband: “How long has she been like this? Oh my God thank you! I’ll get her back to our hotel and get her some food. She gets sick from her disease. Thank you!”

~~~~~~~~out~~~~~~~~

Back at the hotel and completely disoriented from the elevator, I was able to eat a panini that I purchased earlier from Starbucks.

I’m not aware of what was said or done during the black outs but I am so grateful that I was lucky enough to have some kind people who took care of me.

——————————————————————

Moral of the story:

My disease symptoms have the ability to make me dizzy, incoherent, and black out. That is scary.

I wasn’t aware of elevators causing disorientation.

I had a horrible migraine by the time it was all said and done.

My joints and bones hurt all over and I felt so weak.

I couldn’t even lean on a stationary object without losing my balance and blacking out.

None of the Hypothyroidism or Hashimoto’s Disease books/research mentioned any of these traits/issues. NONE.

I was lucky this time, but if it happens again I can’t assume that I’ll get help with the kindness of strangers.

🌸 To those who helped me at 126 W.Fisher St. Parking Garage, Detroit, MI, you were angels for me that night. Thank you! πŸ™ 🌸

One Word…

Bocelli

I’ll let you think about that for a moment…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Word…

Detroit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s right! My husband and I attended the Andrea Bocelli concert on December 3, 2017 at The Little Caesar’s Arena in Detroit, MI.

To say the concert was phenomenal is a major understatement. He collaborated with ballet dancers, The Detroit Symphony Orchestra, and a local choir. The acoustics were designed for him (they had to be).

No one else could have had a voice that found every corner in that arena only to carry his tunes back to him.

Andrea Bocelli is powerful. He may be blind (since age 12); but he is blessed. His intelligence (he went to law school), created a foundation, and is the best Tenor in the world. He has worked with some of today’s most prominent individuals who are leaders politically and musically.

His iconic song “The Prayer” is celebrated for it’s twenty year anniversary. He is still as true to it’s presentation as he has ever been. It was a full house but when the lights were down, it seemed as if no one spoke or moved. We were all mesmerized. Then the house lights came up I was in awe.

So to sum it up, my husband and I had once in a lifetime experience a few days ago. I am properly humbled. Thank goodness.

The Dance

It’s been awhile since I’ve written for you. I apologize. I’m not living the dream, I assure you. However I am always thankful for my family and friends.

I married my husband back in 2005. It was beautiful. It was a beach wedding and we pretty much wrote down our own vows and chose Lake Huron as our landscape. The officiating wedding pastors had recommended that we should look at a book of wedding quotes.

For some reason I was drawn to the word dance. So when I wrote my vows I wanted him to know that my energy and expression were going to be a dance.

A dance for life, joy, memories and even the not so good stuff. I was classically trained in Jazz and Ballet; but my dances were designed to have no script.

I hadn’t been able to find the DVD that it was on… I finally found it in a cleaning of epic proportions.

~~~~~~~~~

The past two years are perfect for the The Flight of the Bumblebee. (Rimsky-Korsakov). A whole lot of rebuilding my new normal, appointments, pokes and prods, and confusion. I sank into such a depression so fast– (quicksand really) there was nothing in my eyes, no spark, smile, or brightness. I have been empty inside and metaphorically chasing my tail.

The hypothyroidism and Hashimoto’s were already physically draining; my emotional distress left me in dark rooms with dark circles under my eyes.

Needless to say, dancing wasn’t exactly on my To Do list. So what did I mean when I wrote those vows in 2005?

I believe my inspiration for dancing was from Songwriter(s): Mark D. Sanders, Tia Sillers Artist: Lee Ann Womack “I Hope You Dance”.

Song: via VEVO

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder

You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger

May you never take one single breath for granted

God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean (Lake Huron)

Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens

Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance

Never settle for the path of least resistance

Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’

Lovin’ might be a mistake, but it’s worth makin’

Don’t let some broken heart leave you bitter

When you come close to sellin’ out, reconsider

Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance (Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along)

I hope you dance

I hope you dance (Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)

I hope you dance (Where those years have gone?)

Written by Tia Sillers, Mark Sanders β€’ Copyright Β© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

Remember that song? It came out about 15-20 years ago. I need to dance again. I want this to be my dance. I want this to be my husbands’ dance. I want to go through this life dancing with my husband. I want to dance with my family and friends.

So said, so it shall be. Forgive me if I step on your toes.