anxiety

Daily Post 010: Holiday Rage

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There is a lot of emotion in this post.
A lot of cursing and raw, unadulterated typing.
I’m not sorry because fuck holidays.

Dearest Universe,

Once again I am here; fucking lost and frustrated internally. I feel like there’s sandpaper on the inside of my skin trying to rub its way out, but it can’t get out because it’s not real, not physical and so I’m left with irritation, borderline rage that I have this sensation with no way to release it.

I’m hoping writing helps. I’m hoping by letting my fingers move over the keyboard, dancing the feelings away that I might find some measure of peace for the restlessness that has been my life for the past month or so; ever building, seldom ceasing. 

I quit my job. I think I wrote about that. I finally chose myself over bleeding out for a company that continuously disregarded my struggles and cries, pleas, for help. 

“Increase your anti-depressant.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

Fuck you guys. I have survived too much in my life to be told “fake it until you make it” when I come to you in tears. When I say I have anxiety and panic attacks when I feel hollow and empty when I have nothing left to give when I feel unsupported when I see my teammates and patients suffering… DO NOT tell me to increase my anti-depressant. 

I didn’t need anti-depressants when my mom died. I shouldn’t be told to take them to cope with work and a lack of life balance. 

Instead of taking their advice, I changed my life, because fuck being miserable. 

And yes, this post is most likely going to have a lot of cursing in it as tears run down my face. Tears of anger and hurt, of lostness and grief, sadness and frustration.

I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE MY JOB! I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE MY PATIENTS! I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE MY TEAMMATES AND “MY” CLINIC!

I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE!

That’s what I scream inside of my head, but when given the choice between my life and a fucking paycheck, the paycheck isn’t going to win. There is too much else I am capable of doing. Too many other skills that I already have and can learn; be taught. 

Fuck being miserable, and fuck your advice that I need medication to cope.

What I need is an employer that values me as a human rather than as a cog that’s only useful and valued when it’s performing. As soon as it needs any sort of maintenance then all of a sudden it’s an inconvenience. As if working 12-hour shifts five days in a row is realistically maintainable. As if constantly coping with death is doable without time to mourn or even vaguely process the loss of people you have known for years. 

It is been a little over a month since I left. 

I am still in training with my new job but the reduction in stress is ridiculous. I didn’t realize how dead inside I had been until about a week ago. Each day gets a little better. I have ups and downs still. Especially with it being the holidays, but workwise I do not regret leaving. I’m angry that I had to make that choice. I’m angry that I enabled such an atrocious business model for so long but I do not regret honoring myself. I do not regret being loyal to myself and taking care of my own wellbeing when for so long it was clear that the company wasn’t going to help me live or be ok. 

I have formed close connections with my trainers and fellow classmates. I’m doing well in training. I’m already looking at cross-training for other areas. Work is easy. Learning and retaining information is easy. I took a pretty steep pay cut, but I don’t care about it. A pay cut gave me my life back. A pay cut gave me better benefits. A pay cut wasn’t really a pay cut because had I not tried to quit once before, I still would have been making less than my brother as a new hire. 

Fuck your company. Fuck its disregard for human limitations and lack of empathy or compassion or even trying to understand what it was like working the floor. 

Anyway, I don’t really want to write about work anymore. I like my new job. I “graduated” phase one of training this past Thursday. I cried. It was silly and cheesy and mom would have been proud. She would have been happy for me and it helped me realize that I can be and will be ok in my choice. 

All of the thoughts of “did I make the right choice?” “Am I a failure at life?” “Would mom be proud of me?” All of those thoughts eating way at me could finally rest; stop. The worry and fear could finally stop eating away at me because of this one act of kindness from my trainers, and I wrote them an email explaining why such a silly seemingly trivial thing meant so much to me. 

Teachers, trainers, touch lives in amazing and unknown ways and I wanted them to know how they touched mine so I told them. They both were appreciative of my words and I’m grateful they were. They deserve to know they are valued and seen. 

The holidays have sucked. No surprise there. They haven’t sucked as much as in previous years. Maybe that’s part of the sandpaper feeling. I don’t know. 

I didn’t do anything for my birthday. I worked. No one remembered in my class which I was ok with. I stayed at the apartment and ate a pizza I cooked in the oven. I responded to messages until I couldn’t anymore and then I gave myself permission to stop looking at my phone; to stop poking at a wound that was already bleeding invisible blood. 

I let myself go to sleep. I lay with my pain and grief and in the morning I woke up more ok. I didn’t have to push myself to endure a birthday party. I didn’t have to smile when all I wanted was to break down and cry. I gave myself the gift of space and acceptance and that seemed to help this year. I did birthday stuff later; on “not my birthday” and that made it more ok. 

Maybe that’s how I will handle my birthdays from now on. The day before or after is ok, but my actual birthday is MY day to do what I want rather than people-pleasing or feeling pressured to be something other than what I am. 

Maybe in the future, it will change. Maybe I’ll look forward to parties and celebrations and whatnot in the years to come, but for now, reclaiming that one day as “my” day, helped get rid of all of the pressure and guilt, and shame that I have felt in the past years since mom died, and since I felt better, coped better, I feel like it’s something to keep in mind.

Life is different than what it was, what I thought it would be. I’m allowed to do things differently than I have in the past. I’m allowed to create new traditions and to try new or different things until I find what works; what I’m ok with. 

I was ok with this year for the most part. Ox was ok with it. My brothers and dad were ok with it. I survived and in the morning, after sleeping I was actually better than I thought I would be. I didn’t have depression lingering over me. Life didn’t feel pointless. I didn’t dread the thought of training. I worked out. I ate breakfast. I did all of these things I was fearful of not being able to do because “birthday blues” usually last more than one day. 

But they didn’t this year and I’m grateful for that. I feel like that’s improvement and I would rather focus on the positives I gained rather than having hyper-focus on the singular thought of “but you were still sad”. 

Yeah, I was fucking sad. My mom is dead. I’m always to some degree sad. But I’m especially sad when the one thing I knew I could look forward to, the one day I knew no matter what that she would call, is silent now. I won’t get my one phone call. 

The only thing I want, deeper than anything else in life, I can’t have, so yeah. I’m fucking sad and it’s my party and I will cry even if I don’t want to because that is what I need to do to be ok. 

I want to go out to a field and just scream FUCK right now. FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!

My older brother and sister-in-law tested positive for covid. Because, you know, it’s not enough to contend with the loss of the most important person in my life. I have to also deal with the fear of losing the one person who was my rock while mom was in the hospital.

“Do you need anything?”

I can remember that question so clearly. It was the first night at the house. I had been in Vegas for less than 12 hours. The bank had canceled both my debit and credit card because I didn’t list them as “traveling” when I booked my flight. Funny how stupid shit like that slips your mind when your parent is dying. 

I was standing at the kitchen counter. Jason was across from me. 

“Do you need anything?”

“Please don’t die.”

That was most likely the most selfish and unrealistic thing to ask for, but it was the only thing I wanted, needed, in that moment. I could handle mom being in the hospital as long as he was there to help me get through it. As long as he was ok and I didn’t have to worry about losing anyone else I could hold my shit together. 

And then I find out he has covid. 

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK YOU UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING THAT YOU CONSIST OF YOU MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A WHORE!

It’s no different than when I found out I had cancer before Thanksgiving. No different than fucking up a holiday with Life’s bullshit. 

I survived my birthday only to prepare for the onslaught of Christmas a mear four days later and I find out that my brother isn’t ok.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! WHEN WILL IT BE ENOUGH? WHEN WILL YOU STOP TESTING ME, PUSHING ME? WHEN AM I ALLOWED TO NOT BE STRONG? WHEN AM I ALLOWED TO BE TIRED AND SCARED? WHEN AM I ALLOWED TO BE SAFE? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! THERE AREN’T ENOUGH FUCKS TO FUCKING FUCK THIS FUCKING SITUATION! FUCK!

And I write all of that knowing that my sister-in-law didn’t really hit my radar. It would have sucked, and I would have been sad, but it wouldn’t have been the devastating, earth-shattering, disaster when compared to my brother and I know that most likely makes me a terrible human on some level, but fuck it. It’s the truth. If I had to pick someone to die and someone to live, it would be my brother and I’ll carry that truth with me like all the other scars I wear. 

It’s been a few days since I found out about their diagnosis. They’re both doing ok, which helps ease the fear and uncertainty. It helps something inside me, the four-year-old who cries for mom. I can’t have mom but at least I can have my brother. I know at some point the universe will take him away from me, but for now, it hasn’t and I cling to that with every ounce of my unstable mental and emotional strength because fuck holidays. 

I made it through yesterday. I’ve been coloring a lot more recently. It helps. It gives my eyes and hands something to do with I try to trace thoughts and feelings through my head, trying to make sense of them, trying to hear my inner self and understand what I need. 

It’s how I made it through most of yesterday. Watching gorey anime, cuddling with the cats, and coloring. 

Today we get the kids and will be opening presents and doing all of the actual Christmas stuff. I keep swinging back and forth between being ok and not ok today and I’m so fucking tired of it. 

I’M TRIED! I’M SO FUCKING TIRED YOU SON OF A BITCH AND YET YOU KEEP FUCKING WITH ME! GODDAMIT UNIVERSE! WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME BE! WHY CAN’T I BE NORMAL FOR ONE FUCKING DAY? WHY CAN’T I HAVE A CHRISTMAS WITH THE KIDS AND NOT BE AN EMOTIONAL WRECK? WHY DO I HAVE TO DRAG OX THROUGH THIS, OR JOHN? WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO CRY? WHAT’S SO UNREALISTIC ABOUT BEING ABLE TO BE HAPPY?

Typing out the frustration helps. I know they’re irrational, emotional thoughts. Typing them gets them out of my head. Gives them their time. Makes the sandpaper less abrasive as if screaming through my fingers wears the paper down, grinding away the coarseness. 

There’s been a lot of death that I haven’t written about. My sister-in-laws-dad died. One of my mentors from Full Sail died. Several patients I deeply cared about have died. I haven’t written to them like I normally do to express my grief and now it’s been so long that part of me feels like my words won’t reach them even though I know that’s not true.

There’s so much that I haven’t written though, expressed, just kept inside.

I started a cessation program with work and have cut back significantly on smoking. 

There’s all of this stuff going on in my life and none of it is inherently bad. It’s just… stuff… with emotions, but there are so many of them all at once that internally I’m getting overwhelmed, drowning in the onslaught of waves with refuse to give me reprieve. 

The kids will be here soon. They, too, were exposed to covid. I’m going to have Christmas with them even though I’m unvaccinated. I know people are going to read that and think I’m dumb. Dumb for not distancing myself. Dumb for not getting a vaccine. Dumb for being dumb. 

I’M GOING TO FUCKING DIE AT SOME POINT. LET ME HAVE ONE CHRISTMAS!

Just one Christmas… one where I see lil’ ox open up a palette of makeup for the first time and do something girly with her. One Christmas where I can be fully present emotionally with Ox’s family. Just one where I can appreciate being part of a family that has taken me in as their own daughter, flaws and fucked up emotional issues and all. A family where I have never been judged and always loved. 

I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of hurting. If I’m going to eventually die then I want to have lived first. 

This isn’t a suicide letter. This isn’t goodbye. I’m done fucking being afraid. I’m done walking on eggshells. I’m done fucking crying. 

Fuck you Universe. I’ve given you more tears than you deserve. I’ve given you more than I ever wanted to. I’ve been stronger and survived more than I ever had a right to. So yes. Fuck you. 

Happy fucking holidays you insensitive, unfeeling bastard. I hate you so much right now. I hate you for everything you have taken from me and everything you keep fucking with. I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH RIGHT NOW AND I DON’T CARE HOW INSIGNIFICANT MY RAGE IS. I DON’T CARE THAT I SOUND LIKE A CHILD. I’M HUMAN! I’M EMOTIONAL AND IRRATIONAL AND ILLOGICAL AND I DON’T FUCKING CARE BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE YOU PUSHED ME TO THIS YEAR. 

So yeah, happy fucking holidays you son of a whore.

Sincerely from a rage-filled dragon who doesn’t give a fuck. 

Daily Post: Post Monday and D&D

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Mostly un-proof read

I haven’t written in a while. The last post was my freak out over reporting one of my coworkers. That was Saturday evening. It’s not Wednesday afternoon. A lot has happened between now and then.

Sunday was pretty much shot. I focused on breathing most of the day. Staying calm even though my head wasn’t. As night crept closer I became more and more anxious about Monday morning; the day I would see my coworker again.

Somehow I was able to sleep. I think the weighted blanket had a lot to do with that. I think having Ox next to me helped as well. I always feel safer when he’s around even if there isn’t anything that will legitimately attack me. Sometimes the monsters are in our head and our own creation, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel any less safe.

I spent a majority of Sunday creating a new D&D character to join in a campaign that Jon is running with from friends. I like the character I’ve come up with but it was rough and added friction to the day. I would come up with an idea only to have it shot down and to go back to the drawing board to come up with something else, but these few things don’t work so back to the drawing board I go…

With the low-level worry of Monday looming over me, the constant rethinking of my character wasn’t a welcomed challenge. I wanted my character to be the way I wanted her to be. I didn’t want to have to troubleshoot through stupid shit because “we can’t use homebrew stuff”.

Eventually, I got my character to a point that I was happy enough with her that I was looking forward to the game Monday night after work. It gave me something to look forward, too. I also found out that I work with my other RN on Friday and Saturday, so I only had to survive Monday’s hell. I could survive one day.

That’s what I kept telling myself whenever the tension started building. It’s only one day. I can make it through one day.

Monday started out rough. My RN was pissy most of the morning, which I figured is how it would go down. I didn’t receive any help setting up the clinic; something which I have grown to expect over the last few weeks. I don’t know what changed for her, but out of nowhere, she started being nice to me.

Maybe she realized that by making my morning hell she was setting both of us up for failure. I can’t do everything on my own AND run on time. If I run behind so does she so her day is automatically harder by default. Maybe it was because despite her bitchiness I didn’t comment or retaliate. I kept working and doing my best to keep things afloat and on time. Maybe she realized she was being rude. I don’t know. All I know is that eventually she changed her tune and it took away a lot of the anxiety I was feeling and the day ended up not being awful.

D&D with Jon Monday night got canceled. I can’t say I was too heartbroken about it. I got to talk with the DM and to get a better feel for my character. We decided to start a new campaign rather than having me jump into the one they already had going. I was able to talk about the homebrew stuff I wanted to use and received the DM’s blessing for it, so my character became even more of what I wanted her to be.

Overall, it was a pleasant night. Ox and I went to the gas station for minor grocery shopping before I came back to the apartment for failed D&D. He did his raid on WoW and came over after to sleep next to me. It was a nice night; one which I was able to enjoy since the tension of “unknown Monday” was over.

Tuesday I woke up and lazed around for a while. I started plucking away at chores that have piled up. Mostly dishes. I drove into town to take my recertification test. I had been worried about the testing center closing due to covid-19, but they remained open and I’m grateful for it.

The closer to the testing center I got, the more “not ok” I felt. As I pulled into the parking lot I realized it was because I wanted mom to wish me luck on my test. I wanted to hear her words, but I couldn’t and because of that, I didn’t want to take my test.

Not taking the test isn’t an option though. Without a current lisence, I’m not allowed to work. This is something I have to do regardless of how sucky I feel about it. Jon called me as I parked the car. I had been thinking about calling him to hear his voice since I was early for my test.

We chatted about my feelings for a bit. I cried a little. He empathized with me. I felt better for being able to share my feelings rather than having them eat away at me from the inside. We talked about our D&D characters since gaming had been rescheduled for Tuesday night. It was a nice way to relax a bit and refocus before my test.

The test itself was surprisingly easy. I was pleased with how much more confident I was in my answers compared to when I took the test two years ago. I passed and I wasn’t surprised or worried about it as I submitted my final answers.

I sent a picture of my renewed certification to my FA. She said she hadn’t been worried about it but she was glad it was done and congratulated me.

It felt good to have something major off my list. I can submit my Concur report to be reimbursed for the $250 I spent to take the test. I need to send my renewed license to the DHH of Nebraska. That will be another $95 but that too will be reimbursed. I’m looking forward to getting that money back so I can use it for the credit card or student loans.

Which… that’s something I found out. Not all of my loans are being deferred so I have a $150 at the beginning of April. Lame, but doable.

I also found out that my landlord is going to be coming into the apartment on Friday, so I had to figure out what to do with the kittens. I got that taken care of this morning. I’m going to be boarding them Thursday night and picking them up Friday evening.

D&D was AMAZING!!!!! Omg, it was so much fun. I attacked a level 20 lich as a level 2 character because that’s how I roll. I also insulted a velociraptor with my Vicious Mockery, telling it its mother was a chicken. XD

God, I love the dynamic of this group so much more than the one Ox and I are currently in. There wasn’t bickering between wife and DM. The other players actually roleplayed their characters. There wasn’t a focus on combat or progressing the campaign. It was more about creating an organic story and character interaction that made sense. Soooooo goooooood. Omg.

We made it to level three. I’m thinking about taking a level of rogue since I’m a tiefling urchin. I mean… yeah, I’m a self-taught sorcerous, but if I grew up on the streets then I would have some sort of rogue/thief influence. I need to look into what taking a level in rogue would give me as far as skills, abilities, proficiencies, and such, but I’m very strongly leaning towards that possibility.

As far as today, so far I’ve been super productive. I’ve taken care of most of my morning chores. I got electricity and internet schedule for the apartment, which, I move in less than a week. Can. Not. Wait.

I got the cats taken care of as far as boarding goes. I called about my Zoloft prescription. That will be ready for pick up tomorrow. I sent my FA my jury duty notice so we can get the letter drafted for that. I also sent her a scanned copy of my certification. I’ve gone through my email. I’ve caught up on the blogs I tend to follow. I’ve replied to several messages though there are still more that need my attention. I swept yesterday so mopping today would be nice. Meal prep will most likely happen later today after some more minor grocery shopping.

I’ve been catching up on stuff mostly and even though it’s yet another dreary, overcast day, I’ve been doing better today then I have been post-Saturday evening.

The goal is to keep plucking away at things until the D&D session tonight. Since my other one is so much more fun, I feel like I’m going to have less of a tolerance for BS, which I’m ok with. I have enough stuff going on in my life to have what should be a fun game feel like a frustrating obligation. I have better things to do with my time than waste it.

I guess I’ll go for now. I need to shower still and head into town to meet with Ox. Here’s to a decent day.

Daily Post 045: So Good

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I went to the dojo Thursday after work. It was everything I remember it being and more. It was single handily the best thing I have done in the past two months. That includes sex. So much better than sex.

I got there a little early. The kid’s class was still going on. I smiled at a few people that I remembered. Some of them greeted me. I put my bag down in the locker room then took up my seat against the wall. I don’t wait on the secondary mat like a lot of the guys do. I like being off to the side, on my own, my back against something. Especially with Thursday being my first day back, I wanted the space.

I started getting a little anxious as more and more new people started coming into the dojo. There were at least six other girls, none of who I knew. I was worried they were all there for submission grappling. I was worried the dojo had changed drastically in the past two months and that I really was an outsider.

The kid’s class ended, I got my card for signing in, most of the people stayed on the second mat and started doing a conditioning class with a new instructor and only five other guys stepped onto the primary mat for NoGi.

I knew three of them pretty well. They were guys I had sparred with before and it made it feel like coming home to bow in with them.

My sensei greeted me warmly and welcomed me back. I made it through the whole warm up without being overly winded, that included doing the front and back rolls that I couldn’t do before the personal training sessions with MG. We worked a technique that built off of back mount, a position I’m fairly comfortable with. We then went into the sparring phase of class.

Instead of three-minute rounds, we did six-minute rounds. I didn’t think I would be able to last through them but not only did I last, I legit, hardcore tapped out my first partner. It was the first tap out that I feel like I earned rather than being given to me by a higher belt. It was an awesome feeling and the chick even came up to me at the end of class and said, “That was a good choke.”

My response was, “Oh. Thanks,” like we were talking about a cute skirt or something. “Oh. Thanks. It has pockets!”

The last round was a 3 minute round where I went up against one of the former instructors. He used to compete in Muay Thai tournaments. He tapped me out about halfway through the round but complimented my defense and gave me pointers for next time. I felt like I did pretty well and held my own against him.

I thought about staying for the Muay Thai class but decided against it. I needed to eat and drink. I hadn’t had a training session that intense in a while so I played it cautious and went home.

It was an amazing class. I could feel an improvement in my body. I might not have been going to the dojo for two months, but I’ve been going to Title Club and doing bag work. I’ve been doing the personal training at my new gym with L. I’ve been “doing” a lot and I could feel a difference. I was more coordinated. I was more agile. I was more sure of myself.

I was a lot of things.  Relieved, pleased, confident, content, accepted.

I was home.

Even as I left and said goodbye to my sensei I knew that I was back. I was home. I was still welcome. I don’t know why I let work take me away for as long as it did. I don’t know how I lasted as long as I did without the dojo and my pseudo-family.

All I know is I’m glad I went and I’m glad I’m still going to go.

There’s more that’s happened between Thursday and today, like having my wallet stolen, but it’s 9 pm and I wake up at 2 am and I actually am getting pretty tired. I’ll try to write more later. Not tomorrow since I get to see Big Bad, but maybe Tuesday.

 

Musing Moments 106: A Letter to My Blacksmith

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I was supposed to see my blacksmith tonight.

That one sentence holds so much weight for me that I don’t even know how to being forming thoughts to express how I feel.

We haven’t seen each other since the beginning of December. He’s had to work double shifts due to a hiring freeze at his work. He’s been fighting through burn out. My schedule hasn’t helped matters. It’s a complex situation and so while we’ve wanted to spend time together we haven’t been able to.

Finally, though, tonight, we were supposed to.

And yet we didn’t.

I’ve been tapped out at the end of my days. They’re fun, long, intense. Training is going amazingly well. I’m doing outstanding. My brain is a puddle of goo by the time I get home. I haven’t been sleeping as much as I should, my body still adjusting to 4 am and 5 am mornings. I’m exhausted by 5 pm even though I rarely am able to sleep before 11 pm.

I feel like a slacker because I haven’t gone to the gym or dojo since Friday. Almost a week.

Add to that the therapy session I had this afternoon and all of the chores I still needed to get done before our evening together. The lack of time to decompress from any of it…

We decided to reschedule for another evening where I would be more able to fully enjoy our time together and even though I’m grateful for his understanding I hurt. I’m angry. At myself. Because after four months of waiting for everything to work out I cancel.

It’s confusing, the swirls of emotions. Different colors and sensations dancing around, never staying still.

I wish this didn’t feel like a failing on my part. I wish it wasn’t tainted with thoughts of, “If I was adulting better I wouldn’t be so overwhelmed.”

Those thoughts don’t change the fact that I am, though.

I’m overwhelmed. Mostly with worries.

I’m worried about my training. I’m worried about not sleeping enough and being too tired during the day. I’m worried about falling behind. I’m worried about falling short of the expectations I have for myself, of the expectations my trainers have for me. I’m worried about not living up to the image my classmates and friends have of me.

I’m worried about the building anxiety of returning to the dojo. I’m worried about not being able to afford my membership because of finances. I’m worried about having to sacrifice my goals because I let myself get into the same situation I seem to always find myself in.

I’m worried about mistaking giving up with self-preservation. I’m worried that I need to hold on just a bit longer, believe and have faith for just a few more weeks and then things will be better. I’m worried that my past makes me jaded and that I’m not being fair to Warren.

At the same time, I’m worried he’s taking advantage of me or that our friendship doesn’t mean enough for him to not break it. I’m worried about being able to afford rent in October.

I’m worried about my dynamic with Big Bad overshadowing my dynamic with my blacksmith because I do think that is a very real concern.

I’m worried about a lot of things and I know that worry would have spilled over into tonight if my blacksmith and I had met.

I feel all of these worries, all of these wounds, so intensely right now. I’m grateful for the space and understanding to let me deal with them. I’m angry that I needed it. Disappointed even though I’m trying so hard not to be.

Maybe it’s all because I am tired. Maybe sleep will help. Maybe another weekend, one of solitude, will help. Time. Space. Decompression.

I have plans to fix the dojo/gym issue. I have options to explore with the financial issues. All I need is more time in regards to my training to allow my nerves to ease and settle.

But none of that could have happened tonight. Tonight I’m still a stressed mess and I ache because of it.

I’m not failing. I’m not disappointing anyone other than myself and I know that. It’s a sharp, cold pain, though. Icey. Isolating. An ache in my chest, a thin sliver through my heart chakra.

I know I already apologized and expressed my gratitude but I need to pour all of it out on this page, bleed all of it into my keyboard the way I couldn’t do through our text messages.

I’m sorry.

I know you don’t want me to be. I know you said you didn’t mind, but I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. I don’t mean to keep us apart for longer. I’m sorry my training started when it did and that the effort of keeping everything together feels like a lot.

I’m sorry I still miss my mom and that I hurt due to my grief.

I’m sorry that normal days still feel heavy and that some mornings I still wake up and wonder what the point of all of it is. I’m sorry that sometimes I’m tired from surviving.

I know you love me and I know I’ll find you through every life and I know this moment in time is temporary. I know it’s not my place to feel ashamed, and yet, the only thing I can feel is sorrow for having in some way failed you.

I will work through these feelings. I will address the worries I have and resolve them. I won’t let them stand in the way of our time together again.

I promise.

Musing Moments 092: The Airport Dream

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I had a dream that I was at an airport. I don’t remember it being extremely busy. I remember there was a line that went to somewhere but I didn’t have to stand in it. The part I remember the clearest was when I got to the security check point.

 

I didn’t have a bag with me so there was nothing for me to put on the conveyer belt. There really wasn’t a conveyer belt anyway. It was more like a really tall reception desk instead with the security person standing behind it. I should see their upper chest but that was about it. I think it was a girl but I’m not sure. I don’t think it really mattered.

 

I placed my wallet and cell phone on the counter and started to walk up to the scanner. While I was doing that the security person started making some sort of announcement about passenger items and what we needed to do with them. I don’t remember what was said, but I picked up my wallet and cell phone as I walked through the scanner and nothing went off. No alarms, no SWAT team repelling from the ceilings and tackling me to the ground.

 

The anxiety I had been feeling in the dream eased. I had made it through. I was ok.

 

I remember thinking that I didn’t have my car keys because if I had the alarm would have gone off. I remember feeling panicky about that. I remember thinking about the time I had gone with mom to pick up Jason from the airport and locking my keys in my car, sitting on the driver’s seat in plain view.

 

I was so worried and full of dread until I remembered that I had left my keys in the car on purpose. I had left the car unlocked so I could still get into it. I was still ok. I had everything I needed with me, and the things I didn’t I would still be able to have access to when the time was right.

 

I don’t remember having a destination. I don’t remember having to meet anyone, or having any real reason to be at the airport. But I remember that I made it through security so things would be ok.

 

I have a date on Wednesday. Maybe date isn’t the right word. Maybe meeting would be better since I’m still moving to Vegas. I don’t really know what counts as a date and what doesn’t, but maybe that’s because I’m socially awkward and I’ve never really been part of the “dating” scene.

 

Regardless of words and terms, I’m meeting a person that I’ve talked to for a few months now. It’s someone I was chatting with before mom’s hospitalization. We talked about games, and free lance, and blacksmithing and all sorts of random things.

 

As things got worse between Zane and me I stopped messaging. And then everything happened with mom. While I was in Vegas he reached out to me through email to see if things were ok. I told him about what happened. He has been open and understanding and kind and the line that affected me the most was, “Take your time.” His message was the first message I had received from anyone at the time. The first message after mom’s death. “Take your time,” gave me the permission I hadn’t realized I needed to breathe.

 

I think I replied with a thank you message, but didn’t really say much else. It wasn’t until I had gotten back to Orlando I reached out to him again and even then it wasn’t very much. Not until last weekend while I was in the hotel room alone. I couldn’t sleep so I got on Skype and sent a message. I don’t know why, but I felt the need to let him know that I wasn’t ok. That at the moment it was really dark for me.

 

He has been open, understanding, and kind, and his messages have helped me when I’ve felt alone. There’s a lot of people who have helped me and I’m grateful for all of them even if I haven’t written about them or mentioned them in some way.

 

Currently I have never met V. I know it might seem silly but that’s how I think of him. He’s V from “V for Vendetta” for me.

 

I’ve never met him. I haven’t seen his picture yet, which may seem sort of weird in an Internet creeper sort of way. He’s this amazingly compassionate person in a Guy Fox mask to me, and I want to be able to see him in person. I want to say thank you face to face for the support and understanding he has given me. I want to give him a hug and personally express how much his kindness during this situation has meant to me. And I want to be able to do that before I leave.

 

So yeah… we’ve agreed to meet. We’re going to have dinner at a sushi place. I don’t know what’s going to happen past that. I don’t know if that’s a date or a meeting and really I don’t care. It’s going to be whatever it is and I’m looking forward to it in a nervous, “What if he doesn’t like me,” sort of school girl way. Yay insecurities I suppose.

 

I think the dream was about the meeting.

 

It wasn’t a bad dream. I made it through something that normally gives me anxiety while still holding onto the things that were important to me.

 

I’m going to keep looking forward to my meeting. I’m going to keep looking forward to dressing relatively nice and going out for good food and amazing conversation since for the past nights we’ve talked on the phone as he drives to work.

 

I still smile when I think about it. Our second conversation Saturday night.

 

V: Do you want to talk?

Me: Yes and no. I don’t want you to feel obligated to talk to me, and I don’t want to darken your day.

V: I work at night… you can’t darken my day. 😉

 

I don’t think I have laughed and smiled and enjoyed myself so much since months before the hospital. Zane and I had been doing poorly for so long.

 

It’s nice to feel girly. It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

Daily Post 113: The Return to Work

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Written last night. Posted this morning. 

It feels slightly odd to be typing, doing a daily post. It’s not the same like it was before. It doesn’t feel wrong, but like so many other things in my day to day life, it’s different. There’s a weight that wasn’t there before. A realness.

 

Part of me feels like prattling about my daily life is meaningless. Shallow. And another part of me thinks that it’s therapeutic. Healthy. Healing.

 

I got a lot done today. I didn’t have a single cigarette. I didn’t have the drink that I thought I was going to need / want either.

 

I’ve been watching The Future Dairy with Sir and Em. It’s an amazing show, right up there with Ergo Proxy and Attack on Titan.

 

I got caught up on all of my emails, and blog comments, and posts that I haven’t been reading. I checked my work email and figured out my schedule since I go back to work tomorrow. It’s not too bad this month. Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays 11am to 3pm. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays 5pm to 9pm.

 

I plan to do the gym thing in the mornings. I’m going to have to condition to get back to where I was. I may do strength in the morning at the gym and finish off the day with cardio here at the apartment. I’m not going to be biking to work so I’m going to have to get those seven miles in somehow. >.<;

 

Sir and I took a bunch of stuff to Goodwill. He just moved into a new apartment with Em, so there was stuff to get rid of… like the five computer monitors he’s had since we were dating. I mean seriously… five? You need five? >.>

 

So that was fun. We got money from an ATM then went to do laundry. Of course we got there and realized we had left the apartment without any laundry detergent… So we had to go back and get that. We ended up going to a different laundry mat. One that was closer to the apartment rather than the Goodwill.

 

While the clothes were drying I went to the store to get some things I needed for lunches and dinner. Em had gone to some sort of social function. I know zombies were involved but that’s about it. She ended up coming back home and picked Sir up while I was at the store.

 

I cooked shrimp scampi for dinner, pre-cooked bacon for my breakfasts, made tuna for lunches and continued watching The Future Diary. I folded and organized all of my clothing. I’ve prepped for tomorrow, making sure I have everything squared away. I’ve written my to-do list already. I’ve brushed my teeth.

 

I feel like I’ve done a lot while still keeping things low key. Zane and I hadn’t talked at all today until about 30 minutes ago. He said Uke might continue to pay rent, which would help things for him. I had been told he was going to move out once he left to join the Navy. I guess we’ll see.

 

As far as a daily post that’s about it.

 

I’m tired. Tomorrow I think is going to be hard. I’m going to have to talk to Frank. I’m going to have to go back to work. I’ve been to the break room already, but this is the first time I’ll be there to actually work. I don’t know why it feels different in my head, but it does.

 

Maybe it’s because there will be obligations and expectations. I can handle it though. And if it becomes too much I can excuse myself and step out to the bathroom or something. I’m not trapped. That’s the key thing to remember. I can leave. I can breathe.

 

One step at a time. One chore at a time. I’m not obligated to get everything done tomorrow. They’re just ideas. Sort of like a wish list. Whatever I get done is amazing.

 

And with that I guess I’ll turn in for the night and try not to worry too much about tomorrow.

Daily Post 107: Mom Has Been Hospitalized

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This is the first time since I flew out to Vegas that I have had time in front of a computer. That was Tuesday at 3am. I’m tired. I’m hanging in there. We all are. Even mom. I will write more as I have time to. I wanted to put this message on my blog while I had a second inbetween everything that is going on so I can have a marker for all of the events. There is so much, so many things, emotions, moments, people, tasks.

 

So much.

 

Jason is being the stoic leader of the family. John is being the medical guru, and I am being the organized force making sure all on the life side of things is still getting taken care of. I called my mom’s work, the landlord, and I made this message on Facebook and made sure as many people were added to it as needed to be. I’m manning the helm and making sure that no Is or Ts are forgotten as we try to make it through this storm.

 

We will not come out unscathed. But we will come out of it. Somehow. Some way. I know I will make it through this, and while I am around people I can keep it together. But when I’m alone it is so very hard to believe it. I don’t understand how I will. I don’t understand how I’m breathing much less taking care of things.

 

I’m hanging in there. We all are.

 

 

Original Facebook Message

Hi everyone,

 

I know this may be a bit impersonal but I couldn’t think of a more efficient way of reaching everyone with consistent information. All of you are either extremely important friends of mine, extremely important friends of my mom, or in most cases, both, and I felt you had a right to know what has happened.

 

A bit of backstory first…

 

Mom went to the doctor’s office early last week and was diagnosed with phenomena and a UTI. She was prescribed antibiotics and told to rest. Fast forwards to the day before yesterday… Mom still wasn’t feeling well so she went back to the doctor’s to see why the medication wasn’t working.

 

She ended up having to have emergency surgery and was placed in ICU afterward. They didn’t think she would make it through the night.

 

SHE DID THOUGH.

 

I want everyone to know that fact. Mom made it through because she’s a fighter. She started breathing on her own, and they were able to take her off of the blood pressure meds.

 

Mom is doing better. She is still in and out of sleep but is more and more lucid when she’s awake. She’s able to answer the doctor’s questions when she’s asked about the date, location, the people around her. Etc. She even joked with me and the ICU nurse last night.

 

At 3am this morning she was downgraded from ICU to a med surge unit and has been sleeping on and off since then.

 

The short-term goal is to make sure she is stable and recovering from the surgery, which seems to be going well.

 

Mid to long term we’re still not sure. While they were taking x-rays after the surgery they found masses in her lungs. They are running tests to see what information they can find out. If those don’t provide useful information the hospital wants to do a biopsy to see if she has cancer.

 

Aside from knowing that mom is doing better in this very specific moment, we don’t know much else.

 

Again, I apologize for the fact that for some of you this is the first you have heard of the news. The past 36 hours have been intense and aside from mostly immediate family we haven’t had a chance to ensure everyone knew about the situation.

 

If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to message me. I can’t promise I will be able to answer right away, but I will do my best to respond as soon as I am able to.

 

Thank you all for your understanding and support during this situation. I will keep you updated as we learn more.

 

 

 

Daily Post 083: Back to the Gym

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I’m at work, halfway through my day, and I’m happy to say that it has been productive and fairly “up” so far.

 

Yesterday was rough with how tired I was. I did end up napping in the break room for roughly three hours. Off the clock. It wasn’t the best sleep ever, what with using my backpack as a pillow. But it was so much better than nothing, and I think that was the only reason I was able to make it through the day.

 

When I woke up I clocked in, checked my email, wrote a prompt post, printed, signed, and scanned some stuff I needed to email back to people. I posted an image of a cross-stitch I did a while ago. I have one more to post and then I’m all caught up.

 

I ended up beginning work on a script to help me automate my commenting process while I’m grading. I actually got pretty far with it since I kept working on it while I was in lab. I ran into a handful of issues that I wanted to kick myself for.

 

Me: Did I seriously just make that mistake? I’m such a noob… ;-;

 

But I let those feelings go instead of letting them linger. It was nice to be coding again. And using classes. Huzzah. I haven’t needed to make a class for really any of my coding projects, so it was nice to use some higher level stuff, not that it’s really all that hard to me now, though I can remember when I was interning with Clavan and was completely lost because I didn’t understand half of the things he said to me.

 

It’s always interesting to look back and remember where we started and to see how far we’ve come. What used to melt my brain is sort of second nature to me now. It’s a good feeling.

 

So yeah. Coding happened, which was nice, but by the time I got to a good stopping point I was seriously ready to stop. My brain felt like it was leaking out of my ears. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Add, “mentally beaten with a metal baseball bat” to the mix and we can label it as a full day.

 

I had to wait for Zane to come pick me up from work. I knew that wasn’t going to be all that fun. Nik got engaged, so Zane has a lot to work through with that. I played Bejeweled 3 on my computer until he got to me because I didn’t feel like I had the mental ability to do much else.

 

Zane actually started training on a new system at work, something to do with 401k. So now he’ll be able to take those calls along with the pension calls. I guess his supervisors are really happy with his performance. He’s supposed to start another training course in March, though I don’t remember what it was for.

 

All of this means he’s getting a bit of overtime this week. Woo.

 

We weren’t really sure what to do for dinner last night. Neither of us was up for cooking. Luckily we didn’t go out to eat. Instead we went to the store and got soup and the fixings for grilled cheese sandwiches. Talk about comfort food. I think it was what we both needed.

 

I ended up having a pretty massive headache during the evening, of course because I’ve been slacking on my water intake. And I really have no one to blame but myself for it since I literally had two bottles of water sitting in front of me all day yesterday as I coded.

 

Left Brain: You can have water once you get through this section.

Right Brain: We made it through the section! Yay!
Left Brain: Yeah, but look at this other section. It shouldn’t take too long. Let’s get through that part, too, before we lose the flow.

4 hours later

Right Brain: We’re going to die. Starve. Wither away to nothingness…

Left Brain: No we won’t. One more method and this can be completely done…

 

That’s pretty much how it goes when I get caught up in something. I know that I need to eat. I may even register that I’m hungry sometimes. But… Just one more thing. I promise. I’ll drink water in a little bit…

 

Because of my one-track mind I spent most of last night feeling sick. The soup helped. I took Advil and drank two bottles of water before going to sleep. I slept on the couch with an ice back on the back of my neck. I think that helped. Even if it didn’t help, it felt amazing.

 

Zane gave me the money he owed me for the blanket we bought last weekend. He also gave me $50 for my Warrior Dash fund. I added Marcus’s money to it as well. The extra money he gave me for his commission. With those two added my fund is only about $100 from my original goal. I’m still aiming for the $500 mark. But $300 would mean I could shower after my race, which is what I’m really striving for. And by striving I mean sulking because I don’t know how to diplomatically remind the 5 people who said they would donate to my fund that they haven’t yet and that my race is in roughly two weeks. >.<;

 

Arg. I’ll figure that out. I think I’m going to send out another email this week at work since it’s a payday Friday, and also post one, maybe two more times, to Facebook and call it quits.

 

This morning started pretty well. Zane woke up and got dressed before coming out to the living room to wake me. We had agreed that I would get to have the car today to pick up the bike, which meant that I had to take him to work. We didn’t have time for breakfast, but I wasn’t really hungry yet, so it worked out.

 

The drive to Zane’s work was a bit annoying since we left later than what he normally does. More traffic… boo… But we made it to his work on time and without running anyone over, so that was a plus in my book.

 

I made it back home where I began cooking the rice for the curry we’ve been slack about making. I also started cooking the bacon so eventually I could have breakfast. Once those things were going I cleaned off the kitchen table a bit since I wanted to have a spot to set up my computer while I was doing all of the cooking. At the moment there is 1/3 of the table usable. An improvement, even if it is a small one.

 

I made a cup of coffee and sat down to be super productive, which quickly dissolved to chatting with a handful of people instead. I don’t really regret any of if. I enjoyed the conversations, but I didn’t get my blog done, or my prompt page, which I had been hoping to do.

 

I did donate the $50 for Zane, and the $25 for Marcus. I also got everything cooked and put away. The dishwasher was in the middle of running, so there is a small pile of dishes in the sink, but I plan to take care of those when I get home.

 

Oh! Maintenance came by and fixed the dishwasher yesterday! Huzzah!

 

They also put new weather-stripping around the porch door. It’s pretty hardcore looking, most likely because it’s all nice and shinny still. It should help with keeping the power bill down in the summer.

 

I ran out and picked up the bike. Got it back to the apartment safe and sound. I took a few seconds to spray WD-40 on some of the doors in the apartment to combat the squeakiness I constantly hear. I showered and was in the middle of packing up for work when there was a knock on the door.

 

Maintenance was back to take a look at some of our windows since Zane noticed they were really drafty. I couldn’t stay or I would have been late to work, but I’m hoping they are able to fix that issue as well. I think that would make Zane happy.

 

My mom called while I was heading in to work, but I wasn’t able to answer. I plan to call her later tonight to chat for a bit. She said it wasn’t anything important, just her missing me. I’ve gotten caught up on all of the blogs I follow and my work email. Next month’s schedule shouldn’t be too bad. 1pm to 9pm Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. 5pm to 9pm Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

 

I think Tuesdays are going to be my days off. Not sure yet.

 

I had an email saying my domain was about to expire, so I went ahead and renewed that for another two years. $25 for that. I also took a few minutes to update all of my information with GoDaddy since I’ve moved three times and had to replace my debit card since the last time I renewed.

 

One of the animation interns came by earlier during lab to talk about facial rigging and corrective shapes. He’s doing really well with the rig and the issues that he had were pretty minor over all. I’m looking forward to seeing what he does with the information I gave him.

 

I have an email I want to reply to, and I would like to set up my calendar for next month, but that’s about all I have left for work today. Lab has been pretty quiet and uneventful.

 

Aside from calling my mom back I want to go to the gym after work, before picking Zane up. I’m not sure what I plan to do. I’m having a little bit of anxiety over it since I haven’t been in so long. Years. Eons… ok… not really, but it feels like it. It feels like I’m a failure and I shouldn’t show my face there, even though I know that’s not how any of it is.

 

I was thinking about going for the sauna, and allowing myself some time to relax, decompress. This is the first day that I’ve really had any alone time. My weekend was nothing but social, along with fighting, and all last week was one trial after another. The more I think about it though, the more I want to “do” something. Running maybe. Or rowing. Rowing would be a pretty solitary thing. Or yoga and then the sauna… I have options and I’m going to keep it open rather than giving myself crap for not having a plan.

 

The big thing is that I go. That’s going to be the hardest step for me. Going through the doors. Once I’m there I’ll be fine. Once I get back to my routine tomorrow with biking, I’ll be even better. Right now I just need to get there, prove to myself that no one is going to shame me for being a slacker, and move on with my life rather than stewing about something that’s not going to happen.

 

After the gym I have to pick up Zane. Since Sam got the job in Canada she wants to get dinner tonight. One last outing before she leaves. She mentioned that she wants to get rid of some stuff, so I might be buying a few things from her, but that’s still up in the air. We have tentative plans for dinner at 8, which will give Zane and I a few hours together.

 

I think Hannah is supposed to come over tonight to hang out with Zane while I’m gone. I think that would be for the best. I know he doesn’t want to be alone right now.

 

There’s a lot of soul searching I need to do in that area, the “Zane and me” area, but I’m not really interested in doing it right now. I’ve been having a good day. A calm day. Restful, and mildly restorative. I don’t want to do anything emotionally hard right now, so I’ll table that for another day.

 

And with that decided I guess I’m off to go finish up my work stuff.

Prompt Page 004: Everyone’s Talking About It

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Prompt by The Learning Network to combat WordPress.

 

Today’s Topic:
How much do I gossip?

 

How much time do I spend every day gossiping, or listening to gossip – whether in person or online?

This makes me wonder and question the morality of my blog. Not that I’m going to stop, but, I mean, I am reporting the information and behavior of other peoples lives as they happen to cross over mine… Which technically fulfills that definition….

 

Hmmm….

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I really don’t like the idea that I gossip. I don’t like the way the word feels mostly because every time the word gossip is used it’s in conjunction with spreading rumors or lies, which I do my best not to do. I blog to archive my life, and since I don’t live in a bubble, alone, other people are part of my daily story.

 

I don’t report about their personal life. I may mention someone having a hard time. I may give information that has already been made public, but I don’t divulge secrets, and I don’t lie, all of which I feel go hand in hand with the word gossip.

 

Maybe I need to expand my vocabulary and find another word…

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I guess the difference between gossiping and blogging is in the focus. With my blog I am focusing on myself, with gossip the focus is on other people. Ok. I’m more ok with this distinction. And now that I have an understanding of what I do and do not do I can go back to the question.

 

 

I don’t gossip. I blog. I spend as little time as possible listening to or reading gossip. I try to read articles from verified sources because I dislike having to dig and fact check information. I want to trust the information I’m receiving. If I can’t trust it I’m not going to waste my time.

 

Even at work, while in the break room or interacting with co-workers on campus, if someone starts “gossiping” I listen with a grain of salt. I will take in the information, maybe even log it away for later use. But I’m not going to blindly accept that information. If it is interesting or important enough I may do my own research into the matter. I may send an email, inquire as I see the person the “gossip” concerns. But I’m not going to indulge it. I will make small comments, or depending on what the matter is, I may defend the other person saying I doubt that is what happened, or that I would rather hear their side of the story.

 

That normally brings people up short and kills the conversation. Yeah… nothing like moral high ground to make people feel small for talking behind people’s backs… maybe that’s why I don’t get invited to go out with people for drinks very often… The introvert in me is ok with that. I’m pretty sure I’m not missing much, and I have cross stitching I would rather do anyway than get smash faced and trash talk people.

 

Do I think gossiping is dangerous?

Yes. 100% yes. I can think of all the times that people talked about me behind my back in middle and high school and the hateful comments they would say. I can remember how that made me feel.

 

I can remember working at the Citadel and having my co-works think that I was cheating on my boyfriend, but rather than talk to me about what was going on they decided to gossip and speculate amongst themselves. At the time I felt betrayed. If they were my friends why didn’t they talk to me? Why didn’t they ask me to explain what was going on? Why did they think something so terrible of me? What had I done to show that was in my character?

 

I think of the online bullying that drives youth to commit suicide because of the terrible, awful things people say, the rumors and lies that get spread like wildfire.

 

It is NEVER ok to tear someone down. It’s NEVER ok to spread lies or rumors. It’s NEVER ok to play with another person’s emotions.

 

If you don’t want it done to you, don’t do it to someone else.

 

Do I think I could refrain from gossip for an entire day?

I think I could do a pretty good job of not letting it affect me. But there’s so much BS online with Facebook and Twitter and all of the social media. Even the news. There’s so much garbage out there that I don’t think I could avoid it entirely even if my life depended on it, short of living alone in the middle of nowhere, and that’s sort of sad to realize.

 

What are some of the consequences of gossip I have observed in my own life?

Lowered self-esteem. Self hate. Confidence issues. Trust issues. Depression. Anxiety. And that’s just in my own personal life.

 

I like to think that I have overcome a lot of these things. I like to think that I have grown and healed from my time as a frail, susceptible young girl, and that I did well by simply surviving, much less becoming the confident* (I retain the right to still complain about being insecure / unconfident in future posts) women I am today.

 

I hate knowing that there are people out there who still struggle with these things. I hate knowing there are other young girls out there who feel out of place, unloved, unvalued, unworthy, simply because the “cool” girl didn’t like the color of someone’s shirt.

 

I think gossip stems from an internal pain. The person gossiping is jealous, insecure, or unworthy feeling. They need to make themselves feel better by dragging someone else down. They need to make themselves seem important by having information, even if it is false. They need to tarnish someone else so what they have seems good enough.

 

Some people just like being jerks.

 

One of the best things I have done for myself is letting go of the need for outside approval. If people want to gossip about me, fine. If people want to blindly believe in misinformation about me rather than asking me directly for clarification or facts, fine.

 

I’m cool with that. People are allowed to make their own choices and decisions. Just like I am allowed to make my own.

 

I choose to not worry about it any more. I choose to be ok with myself. I wish I had made this choice when I was younger. I wish I had had the confidence in myself, the inner strength needed to make that choice because I can’t image where I would be now, how different my experiences would have been. I wish I had realized sooner that I was better than the gossip I heard and perpetuated within myself for years.

 

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Daily Post 055: Resolution

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So I really don’t know where to start.

 

It’s Friday. The last time I wrote was Wednesday, about halfway through the day. It feels like ages ago. Yesterday was nothing but a ball of rage where I started writing on two different occasions only to stop halfway through due to new developments that made me want to set my computer on fire.

 

Yesterday was actually only the second, maybe third time, where I’ve written but not posted. I view all of my writing as important and worth keeping / posting. It’s glimpses into my brain. Glimpses that I need so I can better understand myself.

 

There’s part of me that regrets deleting those writings, yet at the same time I think that it was better that they existed and then were spent, much like the emotions which sparked the writings to begin with.

 

I feel like yesterday was very much a “shadow” day. My shadow traits, the things that come out under stress and pressure, especially during fighting. The things that make you look around and wonder who could have possibly done those things, said those things? The actions that seem so out of character that it couldn’t possibly be us.

 

But it is. It’s our shadow. It’s our repression and all of the negative things we try to shove away because they’re not “good”. It’s why there’s the schism in our brains with the good angle on one shoulder and the evil devil on the other.

 

I haven’t spent as much time as I should on integrating my shadow into my self. That’s why it still seizes me sometimes. Takes over. It’s part of me though. It’s not another person. It’s not a different personality.

 

Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to accept. Why a lot of people turn a blind eye to it. It’s not the good stuff. It’s the icky stuff. Selfishness, jealousy, anger, dejection. We don’t like admitting that we feel those things. We’re not supposed to want vengeance. We’re not supposed to wish ill on others, or crave what they have. We’re not supposed to put ourselves first.

 

We’re often told at a very young age that these feelings are bad, and so we try to disassociated them from ourselves. But they’re still there. They’re still part of who we are, and I feel the more we acknowledge that, the better off we are. The more whole we are.

 

So since last year I’ve been making small efforts to do that. I acknowledge when I’m sad way more often than I used to. I accept the fact that I hurt. That I am angry. That I feel wronged and that I want justice. Retribution. That I am something other than ok, because it’s ok to not be ok.

 

By acknowledging those emotions they have less power. They can’t be sneaky ninjas that come in and highjack my brain and make me do stupid shit that I regret later. I’m able to better understand where some of my compulsions come from.

 

Brain: Ah, this need is stemming from fear. This one is stemming from jealousy.

 

By understanding the root cause I can make calmer, less compulsive decisions.

 

And I say (type) all of this out after an insanely rough day emotionally. One where Zane and I fought and I offered to move out. Neither of us want that. Not only on a companionship level, but on a logical “Where would you go, how would either of us be able to pay rent” level.

 

We adult great together. Both of us are realistic and left brained when it comes to matters of life. It’s the romantic side of things that is screwing everything up, and last night, while in the grips of anxiety over the fighting and anger, while the “I’m never able to do anything right” mentality was in full swing, offering to move out was the quickest, easiest solution to making it all stop.

 

Anxiety: Just give up. Stop trying. Leave. That’s how to make it stop. Just remove yourself from the situation and go back to be alone.

 

But that’s not what I want, no matter how much that annoying, deceiving voice whispers to me. I know that’s not what I want. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to live with people I don’t know. I don’t want to move my stuff again. I don’t want to find a new routine.

 

I want to stay here. I want to stay with Zane. I want to keep biking to work. I want to stay near my dojo so in the new year I can begin going again.

 

I don’t want the core of my world to change. I just want this relentless fighting to stop.

 

And I know the fighting stems from both of us hurting. We’re wounded and so we lash out at each other because we hurt. It’s like any other animal after a fight. Someone may be trying to help, but instinct says to attack. To bite and claw and snarl dripping fangs. To protect yourself while your vulnerable.

 

Every little thing sets us off. His word choice. My tone. The smallest infraction is an enormous mountain of disrespect and unthoughtfulness. And maybe that has to do with our personality types.

 

Maybe we’re projecting on each other. I’m internally angry so I’m seeing anger everywhere. At least when it comes to Zane. The moments of happiness, laughter, closeness, those don’t exist. I can’t see them, remember them, when I begin to see red and anger everywhere. I can’t remember what it felt like for him to hug me when all I can feel is the pain of when he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him after a fight.

 

We talked last night. A heated, passionate talk, but I don’t really think it was fighting. And maybe I should clarify. There was fighting in the beginning. He said to go away if I didn’t want to be there, and so I left, going to the bathroom because that’s the only place in the apartment where I can shut a door, putting distance between myself and the world. There was self-harm involved. And I own up to that fact and my part in the argument. I apologize for nothing because I’m not going to apologize for doing my best and coping even if it isn’t the way some people would want me to, or view as “right”.

 

Afterwards, when we were back in the room, him on the bed, me with my back against the bedroom door, we talked. We let everything out. In the end he held me while I cried. He said to cry until it was gone, and I gave a small laugh while saying that wasn’t going to happen.

 

I think there’s still a lot of built up stuff in regards to my mom. It still hurts when I think about it. I won’t be able to get vacation time to see her before she leaves for Vegas. I won’t see her for my birthday or Christmas, and every day I still wake up and wonder if this is going to be her last. I still hurt over not being able to save her from her own body.

 

I think some of it has to do with the apartment as well. With the lease coming up and the changes that are going to happen. Hannah may be moving in. It would be temporary. She graduates in six months and though she doesn’t know what she will be doing afterwards, it is very likely she will try to move elsewhere. Uke may also move in still. It would be great if he did. If both of them did. Rent between four people would be so much better than rent between three.

 

The down side is that I would not have my own room. Something I was desperately looking forward to. And I think there was a lot of anxiety there. Actually. I know there was a lot of anxiety there. I know that has been one of the things making me cringe every time Zane and I fight. I keep thinking about how I will be locked into a lease for another year where I come home and have no space of my own. No door I am able to shut to have the silence and space that I need. I will constantly be coming home to more stress and discord. I won’t have anywhere to go. No safe space.

 

I mentioned this, finally, last night to Zane as we were cuddling, my back to his chest, his arms around me. I asked if I could have the master bedroom’s closet as my room. I know that may sound weird, but I like the idea. I don’t want or need a lot of space, and the room I had when I lived with my mom was half the size of the room I’m in right now. It literally was just as big as the closet. It could be my little hide away. My book nook, my craft room, full of pillows and my stitching stuff where I can go to listen to my audio books, as far away from the living room and other people as I can get. My space, and mine alone.

 

Zane is ok with the idea. And since one of the bookcases I have is actually a closet storage thing, we could set it up in the master bedroom, attaching the bar to the wall so he still has a place to hang his shirts, and put his pants and stuff. We could get the drawer attachments incase he doesn’t want to leave his boxers and socks on an exposed shelf, though I don’t think he would really care.

 

Knowing that I will still have a “spot” makes it seem more ok. It makes me feel less trapped.

 

We cuddled for a bit longer before getting up. I was hungry and thirsty. Zane wanted to get in some Fallout time. I also needed to finish working on my commission. After eating I got my computer and worked in the living room, sitting in front of the couch, close to Zane so I could lean back every once in a while and touch him.

 

Marcus wants Smaug to be a little bit bigger, which is fine. I’ve also thought of an idea last night for incorporating the title into the design. I totally can’t wait to work on it more today. I think it’s going to turn out amazing.

 

I also got two amazing messages this morning. One from a friend that I went to school with. His company is looking for a setup artist to create some rigs they are going to need in the new year. I could potentially be making an extra $2500 for this project. I have already updated my resume and sent him my information, so we’ll see what his supervisors say. But that’s pretty awesome to even be considered for the work. It would also be another 5 months worth of experience I can list on my resume.

 

Clavan sent David and me a text message saying he was going to place a work order requesting Wacom tablets for us. Yay new technology stuff!

 

And a bit of news I don’t think I ever wrote about, Shrew received the cross stitch I made for her. So that was fantastic knowing that her gift made it to her safe and sound.

 

Training with Terri went well yesterday. Intense, but well. I’m completely dead today and hoping that I’m able to get the last 7ish miles of my week done. I’ve already made the decision to not go to the gym. I need a day of recovery.

 

I got to make Star Wars snowflakes at work yesterday with Bre and Ari during an impromptu arts-and-crafts time. The only way it could have gotten better was if there were milk and cookies involved.

 

Bre and Alex may be joining me in the Warrior Dash.

 

I’m still losing weight, running better, lifting more, and in general being a healthier better me.

 

There’s a lot of positive stuff going on. There really is. And I’m glad I’m taking the time this morning to remember all of it.

 

There was one thing that was said last night by Zane that is really sticking with me at the moment. Like a song on repeat only there’s no music… just words. Maybe that’s better because if it was sung to something like “Do you want to build a snowman?” I think would be in jail for murder by now.

 

Anyway, he said that we don’t need to learn to communicate better. We need to learn to communicate with each other. We both communicate great in all sorts of situations. But lately we’re having meltdowns between each other, and that’s where we need to focus on improving.

 

It changed my perspective from “I’m bad and all of the effort I’ve been putting in isn’t good enough” to, “I’m not bad. But there’s always room for improvement. “

 

I like that mentality more, so that’s the one I’m going to stick with.

 

And with that I guess I really should stop sitting here with cold toes and go shower. Or sit outside since it’s actually sunny today.