I feel like crap today. I have a headache that’s only now starting to go away. I don’t think I’m sick, though I’ve been congested the last few days… weeks really. It’s come and go. No covid symptoms, so at least there’s that.

It’s winter. It’s past the holiday season. I survived it. I had my cry session a few days ago where Ox held me while I cried into his shoulder about how much I miss mom and how I want her back.

I passed my first semester of nursing school. I did really well it in. I maintained a 4.0 until Thanksgiving break. I think my lowest class was an 85 or something. I don’t feel accomplished about it. I became suicidal twice during those four months. Academically it might have seemed like I was being successful, but internally I wasn’t.

I was able to switch back into the part-time program for the following semesters. Instead of graduating at the beginning of May, I will be graduating in December again; nearly two years later. That knowledge sucks, but it feels better than trying to make it through another four months of full-time work and full-time school.

I currently am not taking any classes for the next four months. No prerequisites. No “this class seems fun”. Nothing except work and trying to find myself again.

Maybe that’s what a lot of this comes down to. I’ve lost myself yet again. I allowed it to happen. I haven’t gone to the gym since the start of my program. Jon and I are having a talk on Sunday about if we want to renew the lease together because the living situation sort of sucks. Ox and I are doing well and I feel that has to do with having winter break from school and actually being able to spend time with him instead of studying 9 million hours a day.

I’ve started playing World of Warcraft again. It’s given me an outlet. It’s given me a community and tasks and focus on something other than the issues in my life. I know I’m using it as avoidance. I know I’m letting myself indulge in an addiction instead of doing laundry or being at the apartment or grocery shopping. There’s a part of me who cares about it; who thinks I should do something other than nothing. And yet, the injured part of me just wants to hide and not hurt.

I’m tired. Still. After nearly a month away from school, I’m still so tired of everything. I had wanted to grocery shop today while Ox was at work. Feeling like death vetoed that though and it sucks. I could have done all of this stuff yesterday, but I didn’t, and now it won’t get done and so I’m a slacker, a failure, and I hate these emotions. These thoughts.

They’re not true, but I have very little to show for myself other than a virtual game that means nothing.

I don’t even know if I can say I’m lost because being lost implies you had a direction you were going, a destination you were trying to reach.

I don’t want to graduate. I don’t want mom to be dead. I want her to be here. I want her to say “I love you”. “I’m proud of you.” “I believe in you.” Anything. I would give so much just to hear her say anything to me one more time. To have one more hug. One more hand squeeze. Anything. Anything to not feel so alone and pointless. Something to hold on to; to let me know it’s not pointless and it’s worth it to keep going day after day, year after year of this hurt and change and difference.

Financially things are going alright for once in my life. It’s nice to have that area fairly stable and not affecting things. Politically I think my government and a clusterfuck of a disastrous dumpster fire. I don’t waste much energy thinking about it or stressing over it. Working an essential job may factor into my mentality of not giving a fuck. Regardless of what happens, my patients are still going to require treatment. I’m still going to have to get up at 2 am on the days I work to set up the clinic. I can’t take time off work like other people to protest or be involved in movements. I voted and that’s all I have the capacity to do.

Work has been going alright. One of my patients died shortly after school started. It was extremely unexpected. I wrote a letter to him which I never posted. Maybe I will at some point. I guess it depends on if I actually post this writing. There was one other I started a while ago which I never finished. I haven’t wanted to write in so long. I haven’t had the time or energy. And even now, I don’t really know if it’s supposed to help with anything since I’m so out of touch with myself.

I guess I could start there. “Hello, Self. It’s been a very long time, hasn’t it? How are you?”

Not good.

Why, not good?

I don’t know. I really don’t know and figuring it out is going to hurt and make me cry and I don’t want to do it. I’ve been cancer-free for a year. This time last year I wasn’t able to lift a laundry basket because I had to trust a stranger to cut my throat open. I had a new scar that I had to get used to. I had a week with my dad where he came out and made sure I was ok. I had a sociology class I was taking as a way to get me out of the house and stay involved in society.

I had a birthday where mom wasn’t able to call me. I had a Christmas where I got a new computer chair and a new desk which I can’t set up because in four months I might be moving again, but I don’t know where yet. Still in Nebraska, but will I be able to afford a house? Do I have to stay in an apartment? Will it be in Lincoln, Hickman, or Beatrice? Am I going to have to pay a pet fee for the kittens? What’s Jon going to do? Is he going to think I abandoned him? Am I bitch of a sister?

There are all these things going on and all I want is for life to not be a fucking disaster.

I’ve made it this far. I’ve made it through five years without mom. I’ve made it a year past cancer. I can figure all of this out. I can. I know I can. I don’t want things to stay the way they are and instead of looking at everything all at once, I know I need to break it down into small things. Small tasks. One task. One chore. A small chore. A doable chore to prove to myself that one thing can get done. If one thing can get done then other things can get done, one small step at a time.

And so I’ve done my first step. I’ve written. I’ve said hello to myself for the first time in months. I’ve acknowledged that I’m not doing well along with some of the areas that need attention, mending, healing. I didn’t think the cancer thing was such a big deal, but I guess it is in the dark corners of my head.

I feel weak and tired and that’s ok. I’m allowed to feel those things. I’m allowed to feel hurt and sad and alone. I’m allowed to miss mom. Holidays are always hard. Winter is always hard. I will get through this hard, and while today maybe another day where I play a video game and merely eek by in life, eeking by, surviving, is the highest level of achievement. It means I can try again tomorrow to do “better” or “more”.

I’m at square one at the moment. Maybe not even there. Maybe it’s more of a “pre-square”. The square where you start brainstorming and making plans and getting organized. It’s a new year and there’s going to be a lot of change in the coming months. I’m allowed to start over. I’m allowed to throw out all of the plans and to-do lists that I’ve had in my notebooks and start a new one; one that’s relevant to what life is now, not what it was four months ago.

I guess that’s what this writing can be. It’s my start. It’s my “hello, world”. My return. To me. To life. To trying. To doing.

We’ll see what happens, I guess. I am glad I wrote. I feel more stable than I did at the beginning of it. I might still be laying face first on the ground, but at least it feels like there’s solid ground beneath me.