A (not so) Obvious Revelation: Boundaries

I had this…hm…I guess I’d call it a revelation today.  It’s something that would be obvious to some, but has not been so obvious to me.

I never really thought of myself as co-dependent in this relationship/situation. Dependent yes. Co-dependent, not so much.

But I was wrong.

In the last week, a series of events has happened that made me realize this morning, that one of the issues and causes of my deep frustrations and intense emotional reactions during our interactions, is that I have little to no boundaries.

Of all people I thought I had boundaries with and it finally dawns on me that I don’t.

He has had to depend on me for rides in the last weeks. Because of a particular medical reason he cannot drive his stick shift Jeep.  He could drive my car, but tbh, I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.

The communication with this guy, is for me to pull out of him the needed info or to at least initiate the conversation most of the time. When it comes to knowing that he needs rides to doctors and elsewhere, I want to know in advance when each appointment is. And in order for me to find that out, I have had to ask…much to my frustration. Instead I would much prefer he simply offer it up and write it down somewhere that I can see and reference it to remind myself.

I don’t mind helping him out. That’s not what this is about. I just want some consideration and time to prepare myself. With PTSD it is difficult for me to drop my shit at the drop of a hat or find out the night before that I’m driving him to an appointment the next day when he’s known about it for weeks.

Another thing that came up is that he has a form that needed/needs filling out by the doctor I drove him to see last week. Did he take the form with him? Nope.

This came up this morning again after feeling annoyed and highly agitated about not being able to get a straight answer to a question I asked. Honestly, I’d rather someone just tell me they don’t know and that they have to check than try to make something up or garble the info to the point that it makes no sense. Big fucking trigger for me.

At this point I’m feeling like I’m a narcissist…or maybe borderline because I’m not controlling my temper at all. I’m visibly and audibly distressed. At the point I reacted to not getting a straight answer, I became acutely aware of my back tightening up and I was like, “Not a- fucking-gain”

It seems like each time I attempt any sort of conversation it just ends up that I’m annoyed, frustrated and distressed…whatever it’s about. It could even be a joke, something that was was supposed to be completely light hearted. I end up feeling completely misunderstood and instead of shaking it off, I become anxious and feel compelled to explain myself.

When I couldn’t get that straight answer earlier, I became so distressed, like I was drowning or something. Like the situation was hopeless and I screamed, “Are you fucking serious???!!!”

It wasn’t always like this. He was always quiet. But it used to be fun talking to him.

Now it’s like opening an uncooked clam. The difference is I would give up on the clam and throw it back.  Both of us would have been better off if I’d thrown him back, at least on the night I discovered he didn’t take the lead on the dance floor after I twisted his arm to dance with me.

I’ve thought often about that and feel that I’ve taken on the masculine roll in this situation in some ways.

The circumstance we were in this morning in the car, I was able to drop him off and go for a ride. I went to Wawa to get some coffee.  On my way I wanted to cry and I did a little. But I didn’t want to get into a full out bawling session because… going in public.

I felt like I wanted to jump out of my body though and I just felt so sick of this repetitive pattern.

And on my way back from getting coffee, it dawned on me.


I don’t draw boundaries, ever.

So in this particular scenario of B having a form that his surgeon needed to fill out and him not taking it with us to the appointment he had last week.   There are plenty of reasons for my aggravation behind this:

My expectation would be that a grown-ass man would not need to be reminded of this or ‘chased after’ to get this taken care of.  That he would have the consideration for the ‘driver’ he is relying on, so that I would not have to make another trip up there just to drop the form off…because he’d need it before his next follow up.

My reaction is to berate him for this, which winds up shaming him. He apologizes and says things like, “I didn’t take it because I didn’t know if he’d fill it out or not.” (This reason makes no sense to me.)

But in his defense, he does walk on egg shells around me. He is nervous because of my impulsive/high emotion reactions.

I would never try to justify my behavior and I admit that my reactions are abusive. Whether it’s because of all the accumulated stress or not, if I’m honest, I’ll tell you that he probably forgets because of stress.

But still, boundaries.  Normally, I’d be pissed off and just take the form up anyway and become resentful and the same scenario around a different thing would repeat itself.

But this time I drew a boundary. I made it clear that it was not a punishment. Something that would normally keep me from drawing this boundary in the first place would be my own self-doubt, feeling like I’m saying no to punish him for not being what I wanted or not doing what I needed.

But upon the realization that boundaries or lack thereof were a real problem with me, and likely a huge part of where my outbursts come from in the first place, I knew I was drawing the boundary for my own sanity. To improve my own self-worth, self-confidence, to be less co-dependent.

And so I told him that I would not take that form up there nor give him a ride to take it. That he would have to find another way. And so he did.

And I actually feel better. I feel like I have a little bit of control. I feel like I have shown myself a little self-value.

Later today, hours after I had made the initial self-realization about my specific situation, I found the video below.  I don’t agree with everything he’s saying here, but there’s some good stuff in reference to co-dependence and boundaries.

In fact I had formed some of the same thoughts on what he says about boundaries before I heard him say them in the video.

-Boundaries are one way of understanding your own values, which is part of having a relationship with yourself.

-There’s an aura about boundaries that reflect the self, and shows outwardly, because I think knowing you have boundaries, allows you to feel a certain amount of self-confidence.

I also want to comment on what he says about karmic relationships. I don’t take this to mean anything about past lives and the relationships from those lives. To me it’s about how those familiar (frustrating, abusive, toxic) relationships keep coming into our lives because of the programming we were subjected to.


Cirque de Sink

I know this is getting boring but this apartment hell has to be documented.

Nasty the landlady is one of those ‘difficult people,’ to put it lightly and a few nights ago I went on a rant to B about being tired of being dismissed.  I seem to be dismissed at every turn and not just by her. I’ve been dismissed as being too sensitive by family, so-called friends and others too.

My experiences have been minimized by many people too, including Nasty the landlady.  “No one’s ever complained about that before.” She likes that one and I’m learning too slowly for my sanity when to keep my mouth shut.

So now we’re still dealing with the sink.

See, she’s got this service she uses for the building. It’s kind of an insurance policy with repairs and replacements included. So if something breaks and needs repair or replacing she doesn’t take a big hit financially.  Makes total sense. I have no problem with that at all.

However, the plumbers that have been here now three times, have not found the leak I know is there.  The sink of course won’t leak when the people who need to see it are around. But we do have a bucket with some water in it. Not a lot. But enough to indicate there is water dripping from somewhere.

A short recap:
The first visit the plumbers were here, they tried to say there’s no leak because they couldn’t find it.  Nasty said, “You’ve got to find it, this is my property we’re talking about. I don’t want water damage.”

So they continued to look and then claimed they found a pin hole leak in the sprayer hose.  So they came back a week later with the wrong part. When they discovered this they left to get the right one and replaced the supposed leaking hose.

Although I can’t complain about the replacement, because the hose is now long enough to actually use, where as before it really wasn’t. We don’t use it much anyway.

I had all the stuff that had been under the sink cleared out and sitting in the corner of the dining room. Since I didn’t believe that was the problem, I didn’t bother putting them back, knowing full well they (or better yet another plumber) would eventually be back.

We still saw the water as it ran down the hose that’s attached to the faucet (not the sprayer) and drip onto a paper towel we had placed there. We had a bucket there at first but it would never turn up having water in it so I thought it might be evaporating. Putting a paper towel there, showed me I was right. Even if it dried before I saw it, I could still tell it had been wet.

Nancy (landlady) and I went back and forth texting, her asking me every so often if there was leaking. Most days there wasn’t and other days, it seemed hardly worth mentioning.

One Sunday night it was dripping like mad after we’d used it for washing dishes, but when I texted Nancy, she said she couldn’t come up to see and would be up the next morning to look at it. Well that next morning it was no longer dripping.  Soon after she concluded that the problem was condensation and then went to Home Schlappy to buy some thick and long piece of insulation that would never fit onto the hose she’s got under this sink. Even if we cut it, which is possible, it’s too thick and bulky to get around the skinny hose under the sink.

The night B was going to attempt to actually put that insulation on the hose, he found it dripping pretty fast and took a video of it. And then sent it to Nancy. Of course it didn’t work on her phone and she couldn’t see what we could plainly see right in front of our eyes.

She still got the plumbers to come back though. And so last week they were here, one of them stinking up the apartment with his cologne, again saying they can’t find the leak. So now it seems they are at the point of throwing shit up against the wall to see if it sticks.

They caulked around the sink, using the logic that the water could be going through the cracks and getting under the sink.  After they were done caulking they said to not use the sink for 12 hours. Then rethought and said, “You can use the faucet but be careful not to get the area where the caulk is, wet.”

That was at 9:45 the morning they were here. I forget which day at the moment.

Well, I wanted to keep our dishes soaking in the sink for the day so they weren’t too nasty when I was finally able to wash them, so I used a little tub to fill with water inside the sink being very careful to not get any water outside the sink…just as the plumber had said.

About a half hour or so after I’d run the water into the tub for the dishes, I noticed water seeping out of the front of the faucet, pooling in the corner on the stainless and then dripping into the sink. (Not touching any of the caulk because of the lip on the sink keeping the water from the counter.

Well, dumb ass me texted Nasty to tell her this and she texted me back, pretty much scolding me for using the sink.

I reminded her what the plumber said and even though I said nothing about it, I also got pissed that she didn’t acknowledge the actual issue.

She texted back with something about him probably saying that we could use it a little, because we complained about not having use of the sink, although he wasn’t in the apartment when I whined a little about it.

It ended with her telling me not to use the sink, see what happens and we’ll take it from there.

I decided then that I was done communicating anything about it unless it was an obvious problem that no one could dispute, including her.

That night, after more than the twelve hours was up, I went to the kitchen to do the dishes. I hate to wake up to a sink full of dishes.

By the time I was finished, I noticed that the caulk on three sides of the sink (left, right and front) had mostly dissolved. The back was still intact because it hadn’t gotten wet while I did the dishes and they had caulked heavily back there too because that’s where they were guessing the leak was coming from.

Tonight she texted B and instead of asking a question she said:
“Since I haven’t heard from you I assume the leak is fixed. Let me know.”

B texted back:
“I’m not sure if the leak is fixed or not because the pipes are currently dry but there is water in the bucket.”

She texted him back:
“That’s because it’s not leaking from the pipe. More than likely it’s leaking from where the plumber sealed the sink. Using the sink only 2 1/2 (she forgot the word ‘hours’) after he sealed it may be the problem. He’s coming back on Wednesday between noon and 1pm. Hopefully he won’t charge us if that’s the case.”

What’s this us shit. It’s her fucking property and I explained to her thick headed ass that I didn’t get the fucking caulk wet, which is what would’ve fucked it up, not just using the sink.

I miss our plumber. I miss living in our house.

Still On the Kitchen Sink : Apartment Saga

I’m trying to not have an emotional reaction to this and since it’s not my property, I honestly don’t care if it gets ruined by water damage. What I CARE ABOUT is not being able to use the kitchen because of flooding. So we are trying to nip that shit in the bud as soon as possible…okay well, there is a certain amount of common courtesy we have because we aren’t psychopaths who wish irreparable damage on an old lady’s property.

So when one of us sees a problem LIKE A LEAKING SINK, we let her know about it.

We pay rent here, ON TIME, we are decent tenants who have experience together and separately living in different places and this Nasty wants to insult our intelligence by telling us that the leak under our kitchen sink is condensation!!!

No! It’s not.

So it was leaking like crazy last Sunday (not yesterday). There were drops of water all over the hose (we don’t have pipes under there…hoses. And we could visibly see the water on the hose and it dripping off the hose. We had already seen that it was leaking before that by leaving a paper towel under there and then checking to see if it was wet.  The leak is and has been tricky, I’ll give her that, but it’s a leak none the less. Some days it leaked and we’d find a damp or even wet paper towel. Other days it didn’t leak at all.

I texted her that Sunday and told her it was really dripping so it would be good for her to see that. Nope. She said she couldn’t come up. She fucking lives right below us. Not even a whole flight of stairs between us. No driving involved. Her property, but ‘it wasn’t a good day’ for her to come to look at a leak in the sink in the apartment she rents out.

By the time she was ready to come check it out the next morning, late morning that is, there was no dripping and the hose was dry.

When she finally made it upstairs at some point this past week, she stood in the kitchen and swore that it was condensation. I didn’t agree, but there’s only so much you can debate with this psycho so I just nodded knowing full well that in the very near future she would be proven wrong.

She told me that she’d go buy some insulation and WE could wrap it around the pipe…yeah, she said pipe. I said, “That’s not a pipe, it’s a hose.”

She insisted it would work and I knew that it wouldn’t.  So thinking she was such a genius, she went out to Home Depot to buy a very obviously-too-big-and-bulky-to-fit on-the-hoses piece of insulation.

B had gone out for a bit last night and when he came home he let me know he was in the midst of texting Nasty to let her know that “Now the condensation is dripping at 8 second intervals…it’s not condensation.”

He then told me about the piece of insulation she’d tossed to him on his way out last night.

I checked with him this morning and she has not been in touch with him. In case she didn’t see the text, he called and got voicemail and then left a message.  She’s pretty good about answering that phone so I have a difficult time believing she’s not ignoring him.

It’s hard not to get pissed off. I’m sure since she’s so convinced that it’s condensation and that we have no clue what we’re seeing or talking about, her solution is to just ignore it all.  It will take water all over the fucking kitchen floor to get her attention on this it seems.

Below is the long piece of insulation. Of course it can be cut to fit a pipe.

And then just for shits and giggles here’s the size of the opening of the insulation.

And for even more of your viewing pleasure…below is the hose under our sink. Not the black piece. The white thing that tangles around from the left of the black thing to the right of it.

Not the right kind of insulation first of all.

Second as tenants, not something we should have to do.

Third, even if it actually was condensation, putting a rubber on it is just going to cause mold.

But of course it’s not condensation, so putting that thing on is just a band aid…a moldy, sopping wet band-aid.



I was a Lost Child

I was probably always a scapegoat in one form or another when it came to my parents, but not always with my siblings. When I was younger, the scapegoat role was a bit subtle. And when we were really young, if I had to name one of us as a Golden Child, I’d have to say it was my sister, who was the youngest. But I don’t know…it was a running joke between my brother and me that she was the favorite of my mothers. But I honestly can’t say that she would have accurately fit the role of Golden Child.

Much later though, once my brother became fairly successful with his music, well, I can say with confidence that he would be the Golden Child.  It’s difficult to name one of us though really because not one of us was chosen to fulfill a particular career, which is what I’d equate being the GC with.  My brother just happened to want to learn guitar at a young age. He dropped it for a few years but later picked it up and became really good at it.

I had the opportunity to do things I was interested in and I was signed up for tennis lessons one summer, because I wanted to take them. But I soon lost interest and quit. I also took gymnastics for a short stint and again lost interest and wanted to stop going.

We all had the opportunity to go to college IF we wanted to. Both my sister and myself spent a little time at the local community college but didn’t graduate. I tried a number of times to go back, taking a class here and a class there but never really ‘feeling’ it.  I had no idea where I was heading and so I would just drop out and get a job.  A usually directionless job I couldn’t stand.

Now that I’ve started this, I’ve realized how difficult it is to continue in explaining it all and I really don’t want to.

The roles in my family just were not that cut and dry.

But back the idea of the lost child.

That role fit me quite well as a young child, and it is probably what even led me to become the scapegoat later.

I often played alone. I had friends sure. But when they weren’t around, I generally played alone…as young as three. I can remember playing in my bedroom, hanging a big rope across the room to hang my dripping wet doll clothes on to dry. I can remember flipping my little plastic see saw upside down to pretend it was a big rock and  there were a bunch of animals under it, that I pretended to ‘just happen to find.’ Makes me smile though at the imagination of that.

Later, I had a huge doll house and a couple gerbils. I loved to let those gerbils run around in my doll house. I was usually alone for that as well. In one house, one neighborhood, there weren’t many kids but there was a playground next door. I used to love to play over there quite often by myself.  I learned how to blow bubbles with bubble gum alone, in that playground.  I was so excited, I sat down in the parking lot and used a hubcap of the only car parked there to watch as I blew bubble after bubble after bubble.

I was abused by the nun in first grade. She’d pull my hair and ear and I would never tell my parents.  I came home from school one day to my siblings and mother sitting on the couch waiting to break the news to me that one of my gerbils had been killed by the dog.

Oh but my little sister…my three year old sister had gotten on a chair on the second floor, supervised only by our Doberman/Lab mix, and opened up the gerbil cage. From what I was told, Snoopy (that was our dog) wanted to play and his big paw was too much for the little gerbil.

There were two incidents I can think of that my mother had to know I was being bullied and she did nothing. One was right in front of our house when I was 10. We hadn’t even lived in the house for very long and two girls I’d already met, rode up on their bikes saying mean things and laughing. I was scared but didn’t want them to know that so I just kept doing what I was doing…which was weeding for my mother.  I probably asked her for something to do since we were new to the neighborhood and I didn’t know too many kids yet.

Another time was on the phone. Two girls, one who was supposed to be my best friend, called me specifically to fuck with me. They said some mean shit too and then told me that if I hang up they’ll beat the shit out of me when they see me. So I was scared and stayed on the phone.  Now I know my mother didn’t hear them say that. But she was in the kitchen, while I was very close by in the dining room.  My side of the conversation was not the usual happy, laughing with friends tone, so being the mother I know she was…always knew what was going on…she did nothing until I asked her to. I was 13 and no comfort was forthcoming from her once I was off the phone. All I got was a little relief that I didn’t have to listen to those two bashing me anymore.

And then there was the winter when I was 16 that my coat was a sweat jacket and a jean jacket layered. Oh it was cool and all, but not warm enough.  I guess I was supposed to say, “Hey mom, I need a winter coat.”
Nope…even at 16, she was still responsible for initiating that.

I started this post because I wanted to share a link but then I got into all that stuff I wrote above. I googled “lost child and scapegoat” and in the list was a link to an article that really resonated with me. That link is here.

But I continued to read the site and also came across this one…The Narcissist Family Cult. Another one I resonated with. So I thought I’d share in case you resonate too or want to look around what looks like a pretty good blog/website on the topic of narcissistic parents.


The basement dweller next door, otherwise known as ‘Speaker Boy’ has left the area…I do believe.

It took three months approximately from the time I finally found the phone number to the real estate agency that owns the building next door. And that was not for the lack of trying. I could not, for the life of me, find the info on who owned that building.

As fate would have it, one of the tenants, J, was getting out of his car when I pulled up to park in back of him. The properties are next door to each other. My building’s back is on the same street as that building’s front. So generally, I park my car behind J’s car.

Anyhow, we got to talking about the fuckwad I named Speaker Boy and J gave me the number to the RE agency that owns the building. So even though Speaker Boy had been disturbing the peace since the end of October, it wasn’t til February that I had a contact number to start the complaint ball rolling.

I had spoken to the woman in charge of complaints (TWICC…I’ll just call her that for simplicity) via phone at first. It was then that I became aware that I was the first one to speak up, even though I know for a fact that I was not the only one he was bothering.

The noise nuisance he impinged upon our previously peaceful living situation, started at the end of October 2017 as I stated above.

I first tried to talk to him and became immediately regretful of that, because he was quite difficult, arrogant and obviously had no concern for the fact that he was disturbing others’ peace. Quite frankly he’s a dick.

We put up with shit like this:

And this:

And this too:

And there were many other times and nights.
Even after the complaints started he didn’t stop.

I don’t know if he is a sociopath, stupid or both. I’m not sure what made him think he had the right to come live here and behave that way. There are children in the building.  And many nights he’d sit right by the windows of the apartment on the first floor in which these children reside.

Makes me shake my head that the parents never complained. I would’ve been on the phone the first night.  He would sit in his car, speakers at concert level volume and in addition he had set them up to bang so loud it sounded more like hammering than it did bass that was supposed to be music.

My correspondence with TWICC turned into texting after the phone calls and then emails.
She’d sent me her email address when I texted to ask her if I could email her links to some of the videos on my channel on youtube that illustrated this noise from hell.

So if the videos I’ve posted here, don’t convince you that he made life a living hell here from October 2017 to just a couple days ago, then there are plenty of other videos on the channel. Just click the user name under a video, which takes you to the home page of the channel. For some reason it says there are not videos on the channel, but when you click on the tab that says, “Videos” the videos all come up. So have at it and enjoy. There are some peaceful snow and rain videos there too.

When I heard him yelling outside on Monday, at first I was pissed and disturbed. I thought, “Jesus Christ, this fucker is a parasite that just won’t go away.” I knew that the landlord had been working to get his ass out of there, because of different times I’d emailed her to complain some more and let her know Speaker Boy was still being a douche.

She couldn’t give me details, but let me know they were working on it and that evicting someone takes quite a bit of time. (Because of all the legal red tape they needed to go through.) < My addition in parentheses. TWICC didn’t say that.

From some research I’ve done, it is apparently difficult to get someone who’s under lease out of a rental property, particularly on noise, mostly because it’s so subjective. I am pretty sure the videos I sent TWICC helped to eliminate that subjectivity. There’s no question his noise was obnoxious, illegal and disturbing.

Eventually, one day, I noticed some cops in the parking lot next door. I happened to see one of them talking to one of the residents…the resident who’d actually shouted out her window to Speaker Boy one night to “TURN IT DOWN.”  That was at least a month and a half ago.

I remember that evening she’d shouted out to him. It was a Sunday. His response to her, “I am.” Just like a little boy, responding to mommy about something he doesn’t really want to stop doing.

From talking to him, this is attitude I picked up:  If what he’s doing wrong isn’t happening in the present moment, then you have no right to call him out on it. So that’s the wall I ran up against when I attempted reasoning with him and telling him the loud volume was a problem.

So fast forward back to Monday:
After I’d had the initial reaction of annoyed and disturbed by yet another scenario of Speaker Boy’s, (yelling outside loud enough for the next town to hear him, I decided, instead of calling the police, (my initial thought) that I’d record him, while he paced a small portion of the block while speaking on his cell phone, distressed, wanting his wife to ‘come home.’

I’m not usually one to be so sadistic and wallow in a little joy of someone’s distress, but it was difficult not to in this case.  He whined about how awful the last two months have been and I just wanted to shout out to him, “How dare you!!! You have made living here a living hell since October and you are complaining about the last two months. You brought it on yourself. That’s what happens when you move into a place and disturb the previous peace that was here before you arrived. You deserve everything you are going through right now.”

Before I turned the camera on, this shit had already been going on for at least 15 minutes. A couple little snippets I heard him say:
“The lock’s have been changed” -and-
“I wasn’t inside.” (He yelled that as if he’d been accused of being inside when he wasn’t supposed to be.)

When I heard him say the former, I knew the latter would never happen again, which also meant I and others were (are) free from his inconsiderate, anti-social behavior and we have gained back some semblance of peace… At least for now. That basement apartment is not empty and likely up for rent. So you never know what you’re gonna get. Hopefully the RE agency/landlord to the building has learned to screen better.

I feel so sorry for Speaker Boy’s new neighbors. That’s the thing about anti-social people, you get rid of them, but they have to go somewhere.

So without further ado, the final act of Speaker Boy. Good riddance you piece of shit!

More about Histamine and a Little More on Glutamate

Last night I posted the stuff about glutamate and histamine before watching the entire video. The woman obviously has done a lot of research and succeeded in getting her daughter out of the autism spectrum. So that’s a helluva accomplishment. And in my eyes, it’s heroic because she’s obviously a mom who cared and continues to care enough to feed her daughter as well as eat herself, the foods that agree with her daughter’s metabolism and keep her healthy.

However, those foods are primarily vegan. She does say in her talk that they use meat for flavoring. But they don’t use a lot. I looked over the recipes on the website and noticed that many of the ingredients are exactly the foods that give me a histamine reaction.

One recipe is orange almond cake. Sounds yummy as hell, but I’m running like hell from it because yesterday my brain swelled after eating two oranges.

I’m pretty sure I mentioned that I’ve had milder symptoms of histamine reactions so I am familiar with it a little. I did some reading on it before and you can bet I’ll be doing a fuck load more now.

I am still feeling the effects from the reaction I had yesterday. I have a head ache, I’m sound sensitive and  my eyes feel tired and around them feels swollen. I’ve had circles under my eyes for decades but they didn’t always come out in  photos, making me pretty photogenic. That’s not the case anymore and you can see them bright as day…one reason I don’t take any photos of myself now and certainly wouldn’t post them if I did. My point there is that maybe they are a result of the histamine intolerance. And may even explain some of the borderline traits that have been present in me…in addition to my environment being part of the cause too.

I have no doubt that a person could have the histamine problem in younger years and not notice it because it’s more internal, effecting things not seen or it’s not as intense so goes unseen.

Anyway, I’m sort of digressing a bit. Because my point was that the woman whose talk I posted and listened to last night, was helpful, but not the whole picture for me.  She did mention histamines and made an interesting connection to glutamate, which is what basically sent me in the direction of researching the histamine issue again.

However, her daughter and her didn’t have histamine reactions so the foods will be different as to what they can eat.   For example, they stay away from meat. Since glutamate/glutamine is an amino acid, of course it’s in meat. Meat is a high protein food with every single amino acid. So she apparently doesn’t think it’s good for people with glutamate excess.

But I’m finding beef to be one of the less reactive foods for me. And I did read on another site that when all amino acids are being consumed as a whole protein, then it has a very different response in the body.

I’m not saying that no one will have a histamine reaction to eating meat. I’m basically saying that it’s very individual. That being said, on most of the lists I’m finding for people with histamine troubles, red meat is a green light. I saw chicken as fine, but without the skin. And I’d go a step further and say ‘without the bone’ for any meat. Because bone broth is high in histamine.

There is a suggestion that it’s because of the long cook time, but if you have brain swelling, do you really wanna take a chance at all, in eating something that includes cooked bones from steak or chicken??? I certainly don’t.

I also mentioned wanting to be on keto. Well, that’s a plan and a goal, but since this histamine response is so severe now, that’s what needs the focus and going keto is a process for anyone who’s been eating so shitty anyway.

First things first, and I’m dealing with a crisis and sticking to what I’d call safe foods is more important than getting into ketosis right now.

Some of the foods are similar, as far as people who have a glutamate excess should stay away from hydrolyzed proteins…like bone broth, protein powders, so should someone with histamine response.

But I can tell you, I won’t be eating many sweet fruits. Those oranges put a serious scare into me with how much my brain swelled after eating them…and guess what, citrus is a very high histamine food.

It’s unfortunate that so many foods that are actually healthy for most people, can be detrimental to those with histamine issues or glutamate excess.  And of course so can many and actually most foods that are not healthy.

So I’m trying to look on the bright side:
-The low histamine foods are enough to be able to eat somewhat of a variety but not so many to feel to terribly overwhelmed. I think the testing is overwhelming though. Just because it’s low histamine doesn’t mean it won’t produce histamines.

But also,  this will certainly keep me away from pizza, cheese steaks and hoagies.

Glutamate Overload Possibility and Histamine Intolerance

I just wanted to stop in and give an update. Not something I usually do but I just want to for this.

I am struggling with some pretty severe issues. I’m not completely sure what’s going on but when I eat many things now, my legs and ankles swell up. And I know that it’s not limited to only those parts of me.

Today, I ate two tiny oranges and not only did my legs and ankles swell up, but so did my brain. I could feel it. I could feel it in the part of my skull that makes up my forehead the most. This has happened before but not like today.

I am still trying to figure out which foods are okay but I can tell you for sure that oranges are an absolute no way.

When I’m reacting really badly I also get this prickly itchy feeling in random places on my body.

I’ve gone through something similar before but it was always mild and it would just go away. At those times I did some reading on histamine intolerance so I believe that to be an issue…but only part of the issue.

The other thing I just happened to stumble on and can’t remember exactly how or what the first thing was, is glutamate…to much of it in the brain. It causes different symptoms for different people. I’m getting swelling and histamine intolerance.

It wasn’t too bad until the other day when I decided to test some bone broth that I had made in the Instant Pot. Big fucking mistake.

The biggest frustration is that I’m reacting to things now that I wasn’t before.

Like I was eating oatmeal with raw milk, maple syrup and cinnamon and I was fine. But the last time I ate it, I swelled up. Of course with a variety of ingredients I’m not sure what it is, but I can guess since I’ve been reading. It’s probably the milk for sure. But it could also be the oats…but it might not be. Some people with this issue can eat oats, but it’s on the list of things high in a glutamate…or triggers a glutamate response.

I was able to eat my own homemade mayo before, but the last time I ate it my legs swelled up. That could be the small amount of apple cider vinegar in it, or the little bit of mustard or the onion powder I like to add to give it some flavor.

I also made the mistake of seasoning up some chicken thighs with garlic powder, onion powder, dried basil and oregano. I reacted to that too. But it could also be the fact that I left the bones in.  The bones is what’s used for broths and creates glutamate.

For the seasonings, the glutamate comes from the drying process, not necessarily from the plants themselves.

Today I had a cheeseburger and a half, cooked in butter. I was fine. Whew right? Well I had the same this afternoon minus the cheese and my ankles blew up…just a little, but still.

However, I THINK (but can’t be sure) that my ankles actually blew up in reaction to a supplement I took. It was a capsule of hawthorn berry and rhodiola. I had already taken a plain hawthorn berry capsule after breakfast and I did okay on that. But just the timing of when my legs swelled, made it difficult to pin-point the herb for sure.

My head hurts right now. I am surprised really at how clearly I’m thinking, which is why I decided to do this right now.

Oh and something else the glutamate imbalance causes is sound sensitivity. Even a plastic fork being dropped on the counter top in the kitchen, while I’m in my bedroom feels like it severs a nerve.

So did you know that it’s apparently common for this to happen to adult children who were abused as children?

I’m sure my indecisiveness of diets didn’t help. I’ve fought with myself for decades now trying to figure out what I should and shouldn’t eat. It was the diagnosis of interstitial cystitis that sent me all over creation on the internet.

I believe that a keto diet would be best. BUT I can’t just start eating the keto way without going gradually because I get hard and scary heart palpitations when I try.

I thought I’d try a carnivore diet too.  Big old rock and hard place with that too. I actually felt better in my brain, even for the short time I did it. I thought more clearly, I was more relaxed, my road rage was close to gone, anxiety about tailgaters was definitely lowering. But my hair was falling out in the shower, I mean at least 20 strands at a pop. And the arrhythmia was scary af.

So I started eating some oatmeal and some white rice again. The hair loss slowed and the heart palps went away.

But both of those things are back. Not as bad but it doesn’t matter. The fact that those things are present means something is wrong. And now the swelling. I’m scared and frustrated.

For dinner I had some white rice and napa cabbage cooked in butter. I was worried because I had cooked the rice with dulse. Seaweed is on the list as a trigger. And the cabbage, I had no idea.  And so far rice has been fine but if it wasn’t tonight I wouldn’t know it because of the other ingredients.And then the butter…I haven’t seen it on any list, but ya never know.

I seem to be okay from the foods I ate for dinner, but I’m hungry again since I didn’t have much rice left. And I didn’t want to overdo the cabbage in case it was a problem.  Bad things happen when a brain swells, I didn’t want to instigate that and I didn’t know if I was or not.

There’s still swelling in my ankles and legs but that seems to be left from the oranges and since it’s been exacerbated since this afternoon, it’s still hanging around. My ankles are not getting bigger though from what I can see.

Okay so that’s about it for now. I’ve only been reading about this for a few? maybe more like a couple days. So I don’t know that much, except that it can cause quite a few different so called ‘mental’ illnesses.

It’s stress that is the underlying cause of all of this. Emotional stress, psychological stress, physical stress. And with all the trauma my tolerance to stress is so low. The last decade alone was enough to put my brain and body through hell.

Of course when it rains it pours. (Huh! Seems like a theme doesn’t it?)

There are other things going on too besides this so it feels like I’m caught in an undertow.  And now I’m afraid of food.

The woman speaking here has a young daughter who was diagnosed with autism. Her daughter no longer meets the criteria for autism.

Weird…For Liking the Rain

My last post (been a little while) was about the rain and how I loved it as a kid. And even how I love it now.

Right after I saw that my friend Bethany commented on it, I didn’t read it because I wanted to clean up the kitchen from my breakfast and come back and read it then. Kind of wanted to savor it I guess. I don’t get many comments (not whining) so when I do it’s nice to have something to look forward to reading.

If that’s weird, so be it.

While I was in the kitchen cleaning up I started to think about what I’d written in the post about the rain and I thought about how my mother thinks/thought I was weird for loving the rain.  We’d be talking on the phone on a rainy day once in a while and she’d make a comment about how it was miserable out and I’d say, “I love it.”

She’d say, “I know you do.” And then tell me I’m weird for liking the rain.

I never took it as an insult. Never. I used to laugh and think that I’m actually special and different for liking the rain.

But today, I’m in a mood. I’m so irritable. So thinking of her saying that to me, I’m thinking I might say something more along the lines of, “I’m weird? For liking the water that falls out of the sky? For liking something mother nature is supposed to do naturally? I’m weird for liking something that helps our food grow? Do you know that when it doesn’t rain for a long time we have droughts and the plants die? If we had no water, the animals would die. The humans would all die. If that’s weird then fuck it. I guess I’m weird…not to mention proud to be weird for that.”


Relaxing Rain (Video)

It’s been gray and cloudy here for the last few days. We’ve had sporadic rain and today it is still coming down.

I love it.

For all the tension and misery I lived through in my home environment, concerning my father’s unpredictability, I always had a cozy and warm feeling when it would rain.

Perhaps it was just something as simple as having shelter and a warm bed, physical protection from the elements, that gave me that feeling.Or maybe it was the freedom it represented to me, something I’m only thinking of now.

It stays with me to this day. Rainy days just tend to bring up warm and fuzzy feelings for me.

I used to sit and color when it rained, particularly during thunderstorms. There was a feeling of safety in that.

For four years we lived in a house with a big front porch. When it rained, the three of us (children) would go out and play as if we were on a ship. We’d pretend to fish and dive off the steps into the turbulent ocean.

In warm weather as long as the rain didn’t include a lightning storm, we also played right in it. Nothing like the feeling of wet cool grass and soft ground under your bare feet.

When we belonged to the swim club and it started to rain, we’d keep swimming. The pool stayed open as long as it wasn’t a thunder/lightning storm. The first time I discovered that you can’t feel the rain drops on your skin when you’re already wet from swimming, I was amazed.

I still take comfort in the rain. I love the sound of it falling on the leaves and the way the tires sound as they drive down a wet road. The sounds of the birds add an additional layer of tranquility as well.

Rain always seems to make the world look surreal.

The rain is one of the pleasant triggers from childhood. And I’m grateful for that.

Mothers’ Day Delayed Triggers

It seems like when one of those trigger days comes up, other stressful shit snowballs and everything feels hopeless.

Of course I’m talking about mothers’ day as the trigger day. And even though I felt like I sailed through it all right on the actual day, it’s apparently caught up to me.

Last night I ran some errands. When I was sitting in my car in the Trader Joe’s parking lot I saw a guy walking between cars in the lot and he glanced at me. No doubt it was because I had just started my car, he needed to walk behind my car to get to his and he wanted to make sure I saw him too so I wouldn’t rear end him.

Completely understandable. He was watching out for himself.

But my mind goes to my mother and either a memory of something I’ve done before or something I can imagine me having done when I was just a little younger, likely after divorcing my father. If I’d have caught an age appropriate man glancing at my mother in the same way, it would not be above me to say, “There ya go mom, he’s checkin’ ya out.”  It would’ve been mostly a joke since once divorced, she had no interest in dating AT ALL.

Then I switched roles (in my mind) but in my case, my daughter was imaginary because I don’t have one. I pictured me in my mother’s role and a teen daughter saying that to me while we sat in the car together getting ready to pull out of our spot and go home with our groceries.  I even pictured what that might feel like to have such a presence in the car with me.

I started thinking about how I knew by the age of 13 that I didn’t want kids. Then I thought about how I’d felt slight regret in the past and thought how it might be nice to be THAT house where my teen kids friends all came to hang out.

Last night as I thought about it though, felt lonelier. I felt even more regret. I don’t regret not having children in the state I was in at the age I would’ve been having kids.  But I regret not ever feeling like I could be a capable parent.  I never felt grown up enough. I still don’t.

The thought of the type of man I would want to help me with the most difficult job in the world crossed my mind. I started to picture the kind of man it would take to help me raise one or two children. I’ve never been with such a man.

At that point, I realized that ever since the break up of a tumultuous, emotional roller coaster of a relationship in 2011/2012, I never stopped to think about what sort of man I would like to have in my life.

I’m not sure I ever really did. The men who I felt capable of raising children were not for me…not in my mind. They were too good for me. And I settled for men who, some good looking, but all of them were emotionally unavailable in some way as well as emotionally immature. At least I had the instinct to know better than to have kids with them.

But then it didn’t really have a whole lot to do with them. I was afraid to be pregnant and then I was afraid of how would the child be financially cared for. But most of all, I did think about how I would treat any child of mine. I had bad examples and somehow I knew that having kids was a bad idea for me. At the time I made the decision at 13, I just thought it was purely selfish. I thought I just didn’t want the burden and responsibility so that I could be free. But the truth is I didn’t want the responsibility because I didn’t think I could handle it and didn’t believe that I’d ever find a man would could either.

My thoughts then lingered to B as I drove to the next stop to drop some stuff off at Goodwill. At a stop light, I glanced over at a car sitting next to me. Inside I saw two people and felt sad. I wondered what their life is like. If they get along. If they have family. If they have support in their lives from both family and friends. If they were happy to be in the car together.

Because at that point, I was longing for company. But not just any company. I wanted someone I felt close to. Someone I felt safe with. Someone that I felt had my back and enjoyed being with. It was a more relaxed feeling to not have B with me. I can’t stand being with him in a vehicle. He doesn’t talk, and when I talk he doesn’t acknowledge most of what I say. He doesn’t see the same things I do and so there is this big ass gaping ravine between the two of us even when we are sitting next to each other.

So that led to frustration, sadness and more loneliness.

And this morning I realized that the AC wasn’t really working. Which means that in order to get attention to that, I need to call or text the wicked bitch of southeastern PA.  She’s got a history of invalidating complaints, blaming us and putting the onus on us to take care of certain things. Not big things like this. But that she’s done that at all, just added to the depression that already set in.

It’s bad enough to have the AC go ka-fucking-put on the first day it’s been hot in 2 weeks but quite another to know you have to deal with a difficult person (probably a narcissist) to deal with it.