counseling

Daily Post 009: Therapy Journal and Dreams

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I didn’t write yesterday, but I did journal in my new “Therapy Journal”.

I’ve been going to therapy for a while now. Not sure if I wrote about that since I’ve been writing so infrequently. I greatly enjoy my therapist. She is supportive and accepting of a lot of my mentalities. I was nervous at first because she is a faith-based counselor and since I’m a follower of Freya… yeah… the chances of there being friction were pretty high; at least inside my head.

We’ve been able to talk about faith, spirituality, sexuality, grief, fear, tiredness, medications… just… everything. Anything. And when there is a difference or something new for either of us, we’re able to talk through it and find understanding with each other. It’s beautiful. It’s safe. It lets me be me and that’s what helps to find peace and acceptance with my emotions.

Well, one thing we tried in a previous session was me doodling and writing on a whiteboard. Since I’m a kinetic, visual person, and because writing is already something that I know helps figure out or clarify my thoughts, we gave it a shot. At it was amazing. It was one of the best sessions I can remember having, and that’s saying a lot for how many sessions I have had over the course of my life.

Her dry erase markers don’t get used all that much, and several of them were nearing the end of their life. Not that I tried every single marker that she had… but if I had tried every single marker she had… I may or may not have wanted to get her new ones… >.>;

Which brings us to this previous Wednesday. Normally I have my sessions on Thursday, around 10ish. This week we met on Wednesday though. Thursday was pretty booked for her. Since I typically leave the house with enough time to have about 15 minutes to wait in the lobby, I decided to stop at a CVS and pick up some dry erase markers. While I was there, I was left unsupervised in the Office section of the store… surrounded by pens and colors, and notebooks.

There was one notebook. A half-book really. Smaller than my normal to-do list notebooks, with a hardcover, tarnished golden rings on the side. The cover itself was a blue and white design. It was calming to look at. Pretty without being glittery or flashy. Without some dumb “motivational” message on the front. Just an open, welcoming designs and blank pages on the inside.

I decided to buy it, along with a set of G2 pens. The pens I love using so much because they write so smoothly. I also got a pen case. These would be special pens. Different and separate from my normal pens, even though they are the same brand, the same colors.

These would be my therapy pens, and I would keep them in a special case so they couldn’t get lost or mixed up. And this notebook would be my therapy notebook, so I could keep my doodles and writings and notes from therapy.

My therapist was so grateful for the dry erase markers. She wanted to compensate me for buying them. I refused, saying if I had expected compensation, I would have talked to her first before buying them. It isn’t fair to do something without another’s knowledge and then hold them accountable or responsible for the effort or resources you willingly chose to expend.

Me: If they are able to help me, then maybe they can help someone else. That alone is worth it to me.

I didn’t use my notebook during the session. It was more conversational rather than introspective, which I was ok with. Instead, I reflected on my session yesterday and wrote within my therapy journal the things I wanted to remember from it. Reminders for me as we go into the holiday season and this period of restful, cold winter.

I did a fair amount of chores and cleaning yesterday. I folded all my scrubs so they can be packed away. I don’t feel it is right to get rid of them just yet. Maybe in the future, I will. But for now, they will be packed away and kept. I cleaned up the bedroom. I swept. I did more laundry. Ox came home with a ham, and I cooked it for lunch. I made my own breakfast yesterday, an egg and cheese burrito. It was warm and tasty, and I ate all of it, rather than aimlessly picking until I threw it away.

I cooked ribs the night before, having dinner ready before Ox’s mom came home.

Mama Ox: Well, this is a nice surprise.

Part of me fluffed up and felt good about making her day better. Giving her something to let her know she’s cared for and not the only person contributing to the family. Another part of me hurts because it really has been forever since I have cooked for everyone. I used to do it all the time. But for so long I haven’t because I haven’t had the willpower to. It saddens me that all of us had to go through that period of my life. That I allowed myself to go through that for so long. That it affected people I deeply care about in such ways.

But at the same time, while I feel that heartache, I’m getting better. I’m doing more. I’m feeling more like myself. Ox and I are playful again. He tickled me the other day as I teasingly tried to wake him up from a nap. There are all of these little things, things I have missed and longed for, which are slowly coming back. I haven’t made it to the gym yet, but I know I’m getting closer to going. I can feel it building within myself.

Each day I return to another thing. Being consistent with meds. Sleeping without melatonin. Eating meals. Doing chores without crying. Planning a meal and cooking it… all of these dumb, little things that are considered part of everyday life which for so long I wasn’t able to do because of depression and burnout… It’s only a matter of time before one day I wake up, rested, restored, able, and willing to take on the day, and not just the day, but my health as well.

I’ll feel able to go to my kickboxing class and be around people and bow in before stepping on the mat. I feel able to make the drive there and back without wondering “how”? How am I going to be able to do ALL of that and still make it through the rest of my day?

I won’t have to wonder how. I’ll just know, I’ll feel, that I can, and I will and it will be amazing. I’m looking forward to that day. I know it’s closer than it is far away.

Today I woke up with a headache. I also had a dream.

It was about mom. She was there. She was so alive. She nearly glowed, vitality radiating from her with a warmth and beauty that words will never be able to do justice. We were together. She was smiling and I remember thinking that I love her smile.

At some point in the dream, she turned away. She was going to go get something. Food or some such. I remember she left and there was a noticeable change in the room/environment. Her glow was gone. The absence of her warmth and presence was physically felt.

I don’t remember specifically the events in the dream. But I remember being confused. How could mom have been here? How could she have looked so alive? Hadn’t she died? The thought tore at my heart. I knew I couldn’t “just ask” that question. In the dream, I needed to find a safe person who would give me an honest answer. I remember finding them. I don’t remember who it was. But I asked, “Did mom die?”

Instead of answering, they held me, and their answer didn’t matter because from their actions I knew. Mom really was dead, and I was dreaming and when I woke up, she wouldn’t be there.

Ox had been getting ready for work as I dreamed. He was running late and a little grouchy at me when I was slow to get out of bed. I hurt from the dream he didn’t know about. He didn’t know the depth at which I hurt. He didn’t know how his words made me want to cry.

While we were outside having our morning cigarette, he asked how I slept. I told him about the dream. He held me as I cried.

Me: I wanted it to be real.

Crying turned to sobbing and through it all he held me.

I do want it to be real. So badly. I want mom to meet Ox and his family and the people who have become important in my life. I want her to be alive and smile and hug her and feel her warmth. I want all these things and I’ll never be able to have them the way I want.

And while I’m sad and tears are running down my face as I type all of this, I cling to the memory of my dream. Seeing mom happy, smiling, so… alive and well and ok. I will cherish that. I think she is happy for me. I think she thinks I’m doing well.

I know I’m doing better, but I’m still in the transition phase. I haven’t started my new job. I haven’t gone through the two weeks where I won’t get a paycheck. There’s still a lot of things that will transpire before life settles into its new normal.

The waters of life haven’t stilled just yet, but I’m still going to swim forward with strong sure strokes knowing my mom is watching me figure it out and that she’s proud of me. Happy for me.

I love you so much, mom. I miss you and I hope you’re doing well. I’m going to get through this because I’m your little Earth Dragon who Can. Your Earth Dragon who Did. <3

Letters to Mom 028: Worksheet 1

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Hey mom,

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything… I started doing grief worksheets in counsling. I think they’re helping… I don’t know. I feel raw right now. I’ve realized I still have a lot to work on/through in regards to losing you. There are some mentalities that I need to address…

I wanted to post my first worksheet so you can see what I wrote. I love you. Forever and for always.

Understanding My Grief

1: I am having the hardest time adjusting to:

You not being here. Physically here. A presence, a person, I can sit across from. Someone I can introduce people to. You were more than your body, but without your body present, it’s not much different than talking about an imaginary friend. No one in my life will know you now. No one will understand what I lost when you died. If I talk about my spiritual connection with you then people think I’m crazy or unstable or having a “hard time letting go”. It sucks. I know you’re still here but I can’t talk about that with really anyone because no one can understand the connection I have with you so does it even really exist? Is it a coping mechanism inside my head that really means nothing? Is it real? Are you truly still here? I don’t have a way to prove it. There’s nothing quantitative that scientifically shows that I’m not alone; that you really are still a part of my life. It’s just me, alone, being my own cheerleader and telling myself the motivational things I want and need to hear to keep going and fighting and struggling and trying. It sucks. It sucks to feel ridiculed and judged and scared to talk about things that are important to me. You ARE important to me. You’re still a cornerstone of who I am and it feels like I can’t share that with anyone anymore. Our relationship isn’t physical, tangible, viewable anymore. It’s all hippy-dippy spiritual stuff with self-imposed importance. No one understands it, not even myself. It’s new and different and scary and I miss the way things used to be.

2: I feel most triggered when I:

Am tired. More than anything I miss you the most when I don’t get enough sleep. When I’m running on fumes and I feel like my world is going to crush me. That’s when I want to hear your voice the most. That’s when I want to call you and tell you how my day went and what my next days look like. That’s when I want your support the most. It’s not even that you would tell me how to fix my problems. You would just be there. You would listen to me. You would make me feel like everything is and will be ok and that I can handle all of the shit I put myself through. You would make me believe in myself no matter how much I wanted to give up. You always believed in me.

Aside from being tired, I am most triggered when I accomplish something. When I reach a goal or hit a new personal record. When I do something you would be proud of. I feel triggered then. Everyone thinks these things are good things and that I should be happy, and part of me is. But part of me is sad, too, and hurts, and no one understands why, or they think I shouldn’t feel that way because you would be happy for me. It makes me feel invalidated or that my emotions are wrong because other people dance around them or try to sweep them under the rug. I know they’re not easy emotions for other people to deal with, and part of that is a flaw, a shortcoming in society. But it sucks to feel like I have to hide my emotions all the time, or deal with them alone because I “shouldn’t” feel a certain way. I miss you. I still want you to be part of my life. I still want you to be part of my accomplishments and when you can’t be it hurts, deeply, and to feel like I am wrong for hurting sucks.

3: What happens when I feel triggered?

I cry, sometimes. Other times I lay in bed all day and skip out on the social obligations I’ve given myself. Everything takes more energy than it “should”. Doing dishes or laundry, replying to an email… All of those small, simple things that should be easy to complete feel like mountains that I don’t have the fortitude to climb because what’s the point when you’re dead? All of the trivial things in life feel so much more pointless because in the grand scheme of things they don’t matter. I hurt. I’m bleeding out through a wound no one can see. In those moments the only thing I care about is surviving, somehow, to the next day where I can maybe, hopefully, be better enough, recovered, enough to keep going and do more than I did the previous day.

When I’m extremely triggered I scream. Normally this is while I’m driving alone; where I”m safe from other people and their judgement and worry. I scream until my throat is raw and my voice is hoarse and I have nothing left in my body to give. I scream my rage and injustice and injury into the universe even though I know my anguish means nothing to it. Sometimes I hurt so much that I can’t keep it contained within my being. I HAVE to scream or I’ll suffocate under the burden that is your loss. I haven’t done that in a while. I don’t do it as much as I used to. But it still happens and I’ve learned to not deny those moments their time. They help me survive and if they help me survive then hopefully they’re not a bad thing.

4: Who and/or what is providing support during this time?

Ox provides the most support. He’s the one who listens to me. He’s the one who lets me read my writings out loud. He’s the one who holds me and lets me cry. He’s the one who lets me say “I feel alone” even as he’s holding me. I know it has to be hard for him. I can only imagine how it must feel for your significant other to say “I feel alone” when there’s literally no space between you. He lets me break down. He lets me be vulnerable and sad. He helps me take small steps on the days where I feel like I can’t get out of bed. We’ll do something connective, or he’ll simply let me stay in bed next to him. He has never once made me feel bad or weak for being injured and I appreciate that.

5: When I think about the one I lost I immediately feel:

Hurt. I don’t know if there are words to accurately describe what it is I feel, but hurt is the best term I can think of. My chest feels tight. My heart feels like it’s trying to shatter into thousands of pieces. I feel weak, and small, and vulnerable and broken. I feel like I’ll never be able to be the person I was before; carefree and whole. I feel like I’ll never be able to love the way I did before because I’m so aware of how things can change; how the one you love can suddenly no longer be there and the pain that loss can and will cause. I feel scared because I know I’ll experience grief again and I’m not sure how I’ll be able to handle it next time. I don’t know if it will be the situation that wins because I’m already so tired trying to understand and make peace with the grief I feel for you. I feel battle weary when I think of your death. I feel like I lost my companion and no one will ever be able to fill the spot you held in my life quiet the way you filled it.

6: I express my emotions by:

Not. Lawl… Seriously though, I tend to not express my emotions. I acknowledge that I don’t feel ok, but very rarely do I have a proper coping mechanism that lets me deal with those emotions. I sleep a lot. I stay away from people more. I wait until I feel better, but I don’t know of anything that actually helps to make me FEEL better. It’s like ripping open a healing wound. The only thing you can do is wait for it to heal up again. Nothing makes it heal faster. You just have to give it time and wait and hope it doesn’t get infected or worse.

7: I give myself permission to process what I am feeling by:

Being alone and not giving myself shit for it. By crying because for a while I used to get upset at myself for doing that. Screaming. Writing. Thinking. I give myself permission to feel unconditionally. My emotions are not wrong and they are valid regardless of what they are.

8: What strengths do I have from previous experiences that can help me during this time?

I don’t know. I don’t feel that I have strengths. I go day by day hoping that I make it through and that I do well and that I don’t fuck up. I have no plan for what I’m doing with my life. It’s mostly, “This seems like a good idea…” But is it really? I don’t have you to talk to. I don’t have your perspective. I don’t know how you handled Mawmaw and grandaddy dying. I don’t know how you got through it so I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through it. I’m trying so hard. I’m doing what I think is my best, but is it? Could I be doing better? Do you think I’m doing well? I don’t know what to do, mom. I really don’t and I’m sorry.

9: During this process, I have learned that:

I can survive the death of you. I wish I couldn’t. I wish that was the worst thing that could happen to me and that it would kill me and that it would all be over and we could be together again. But here I am, 4 and a half years later, still going, still accomplishing, still having people think that I’m strong and amazing and a mentor and a role model. I’m on anti-depressants because I can’t cope effectively with my life without them. I bury myself in pointless tasks because staying busy keeps me distracted from my grief rather than actually doing anything about it.

I’ve learned a lot of things about myself, about my grief, about other people, especially those in my life. But I think that’s the biggest thing I’ve learned; that your death wasn’t the end of my world, and for me that sucks.

Daily Post 213: D&D Issues

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Yesterday ended up being an alright day. It was rainy and yucky. Not cool. : /

I talked to Ox and Jon before creating a to-do list. I messaged L. I wrote and posted. I cleaned the litter box and made sure the cats had food and water. #goodFurMom

I showered, got dressed, took the trash out, then loaded up the car with my laundry and the cardboard I have accumulated over the past few weeks.

I went to counseling. We talked pretty extensively about covid-19. How was I handling the changes in regards to school, work, and personal life? What were some of the possible changes regarding counseling access in the future if stricter measures were put into place? I talked about how I felt I had fallen off the “self-care” train, but that I was getting back on it and seemed to be better for it. It was a good session and I’m glad I went.

I went to the house after leaving campus. I started my laundry. Ox and I had sexy time, but it didn’t go very well. It was short and immediately switched from a D/s situation back to normal everyday life and my brain was having a hard time with that. I ended up going back to the apartment while Ox was in the shower.

I could have handled the situation better. At the time, I felt I needed space because I knew all of the emotions were my own. Ox hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he had done pretty much everything that I have mentioned wanting at one point or another. Not every fair of me to come back now and be like, “QQ that wasn’t what I wanted”.

Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting me to be gone when he got out of the shower. He called, but my phone was still on silent from counseling. He proceeded to send text messages which caused my phone to vibrate. I was in bed under the covers trying to figure out what was going on inside my brain.

We tried to talk for a little while, but it wasn’t a very productive conversation. I wasn’t at a place mentally and emotionally to really articulate why our encounter was bothering me the way it was. Since our upcoming D&D session was switched to an online platform, we agreed to talk later once I came back over to game.

Despite the unaddressed yuckiness between us, Ox was kind enough to switch my laundry to the dryer for me. I cuddled with the kittens for a while, which helped. Eventually, I got up and started plucking away at more chores. I had to run out to Dollar General for dish scrubs. I had thought I had two under the sink, so I threw out the current one only to discover that, no, I didn’t have dish scrubs and now had no way to clean my dishes…

After completing that unexpected errand, I began cooking the pasta dish I had planned as a meal for this coming week. It’s been so long since I’ve had anything with noodles. While I’ve been fine without them, there are several recipes that I like that I haven’t been making due to a lack of decent noodle replacement.

The other week while Ox and I were at Costco, we found a box of “Healthy Noodles”. They’re a little expensive; $15 for six bags. Ox encouraged me to try them so we got a box.

Last week I used them for the first time in a chicken alfredo recipe. The noodles were different from regular noodles, but they weren’t bad. I was ok with them enough to give them a shot in other recipes.

Enter my decision to try making my spaghetti sauce with them.

Sooooo goooood. Oh man. I can’t wait to make some of my other recipes. We actually got a second box of them on Tuesday while we were at Costco for our weekly shopping trip.

Anywho… It felt good to cut up the veggies and wash the dishes and to cook a meal that I haven’t been able to enjoy in months. At least not the way I want to enjoy it since Lil’ Ox is finicky and doesn’t like mushrooms or onions, or because Mama Ox doesn’t add basil to the sauce…

No. This time it was made right AND I got to have it with noodles. /swoon

Ox and I talked again once I got the sauce to a point where it was simmering. I talked a bit more, explaining that the previous night I had spent literally hours trying to take care of my arousal on my own, only to give up because it wasn’t working. I wanted him and no amount of sexy brain power was going to change the fact that I was on my own and that’s not what I or my body wanted.

During our conversation, I was finally able to explain my experience the previous night and that in my head, I had built up our next encounter into something a bit different than what it had turned out to be and how things had so quickly gone back to normal as if nothing had happened at all. It had hurt and while, yes, Ox and I were fine, I needed time to get over my emotions and that’s why I had left.

I wasn’t feeling up for being around people. Lil’ Ox was still at the house and Mama Ox had just gotten home. Instead of going to the house to game, I stayed at the apartment which let me continue to be productive.

I looked at my online class. Nothing has been posted or changed so there wasn’t anything for me to do… I’m not surprised since the whole school is having to switch their class content to an online format. I’m going to look into it later today. If nothing else, I’ll do the reading so once the assignments are posted I can complete them quickly.

I did get a reply back from an RN who works with my primary care physician. She basically blew off my request for a refill of Zoloft, saying I had two refills left and needed to contact my pharmacy.

Me: Thank you for your reply to my message. I have been taking a single 25mcg tablet of Zoloft daily since January and currently do not have refills left from the original prescription. I still have roughly two weeks of the medication left but was unsure of what actions needed to be completed in regards to obtaining additional refills. If the refill would be for another 90 days, I would need the pharmacy switched due to insurance coverage to [new pharmacy]. Am I able to contact them directly about the refill or does this need to go through processing at your office first? I look forward to your reply with any further actions I can take to help facilitate a prescription renewal at the above location.

Diplomacy is the ability to tell people “fuck you” in a way that they actually feel good about it.

I haven’t received a reply yet. It’s still early in the morning though. They haven’t been open for very long.

Anyway… On to D&D… which will be a majority of this post since it sucked last night. Pretty hardcore actually…

We spent two hours getting on to Roll20 and figuring out audio settings for everyone. The GM kept having lag issues, so he constantly had to disconnect or refresh. After a while of not being able to even type in the chat window because the lag was so bad, I suggested we try Skype instead.

So then we all had to switch over to that and remember our login information and get it sent to Dark so she could create a call for the group…

Once we finally got to a point where we could game, Dark decided to spend nearly an hour and a half going off and doing her own thing without talking to the party about it first. When the party finally was reunited she proceeded to act as if she were the group leader, conveying information to the queen of the lizardfolk, but she was doing such a poor job of it and giving such misinformation that my character called her out.

Dagger: Actually, you can’t promise any of those things because we don’t know what the humans will actually do once we return to them. And really, the humans wanted us to come here to ask two questions specifically, which you haven’t asked, so it’s highly unlikely that they would help at all even if we did return to them. By the way, your majesty, is Saltmarsh safe and what has really been going on for your people with these attacks and stuff?

Seriously, last night was one of those moments where inside my head I’m thinking, “go fuck yourself. I hope your character dies”.

Irrational Right Brain: I get that your the DM’s wife but literally everyone is tired of the time you waste bickering with your husband when he makes a ruling you don’t like or agree with. We’re all tired of you not acting like you’re part of the group and running off to do your own thing and then getting pissy when you trigger a trap or something and no one is there to help save you. For being the person who “needed D&D” in your life, you seem to be doing everything possible to make this a mind-numbingly tedious experience for everyone else involved. The campaign doesn’t revolve around you.

I told Ox that I wasn’t sure if the group would last long enough to finish the campaign with the way it has been going. I can see the other two members getting tired of wasting their time and quitting or trying to find a better group. I wouldn’t blame them since I got more play time then they did and that’s saying something since I barely got to do anything at all.

On the bright side, I did get to sing my first song as a bard. : D

Ok… maybe I didn’t exactly “sing” it since it’s more of a poem than a song… but I wrote it off the top of my head none the less and I’m proud of it so I’m going to post it here to make everyone suffer just like my D&D group. ^^

Dagger’s First Poem:
Oh queen, oh queen do come to thee
Please grace this party with your divine beauty

From distant lands we have traveled far
To speak to you about troubles so large

Though draconic words not all we speak
Help we offer if perchance we meet

Oh queen of queen please come to me
I ask you grace this Tabaxie with your grand company

Totally sang/spoke that while I sat on the throne in the throne room since we were left unattended. Either she would love my song or be pissed that I was in her seat. I was ok with either as long as she showed up and we got to talk to her. XD

I’m thinking about reach out to the DM. I’m pretty sure I’ve said that before. If I haven’t, I’ve thought it enough times to feel bad for not having done it yet. I’m also thinking of forcing a bit of role-playing into our next session. Not in a bad way… but our party is pretty disjointed and this recent experience with the lizardfolk queen proves it. We need to sit down as characters and actually start understanding one another and decide how we want to be structured as a party. Do we have a leader? Is it more of a democracy where everyone gets to throw in a vote? We have some downtime before we embark on our quest to take out the traitorous priests and their 1000 teeth monster. Hopefully, our group can figure out what type of party we want to be before we get there.

So yeah, D&D wasn’t awesome, but it had its moments. The miniatures Ox and I ordered came in yesterday, but since we played online we didn’t really get to use them. Much lame. ;-;

Since the online option didn’t seem to work out all that well, I offered to host our next campaign here at the apartment. Everyone seems on board with it, so we’ll see how next Wednesday goes. I’m hoping it will be better.

After D&D, Ox came over since Lil’ Ox had gone back to her mom’s house earlier in the evening. There was mind-melting sexy role play sexy time. When I say this was a level of hawt never yet experienced, I mean it was a level of hawt that had never yet been experienced. Sooooooo insanely good. Hooooooly fuck. I’m still floating on a personal cloud of bliss this morning, and that’s after a six-pound cat decided to wake me up by jumping off the windowsill directly onto one of my ovaries. >.<;

Not how I wanted to start the day, but still not bad enough to fuck with my feelings from last night’s amazingly dirty, depraved, slutty fun time. Not even going to be sorry if language like that causes anyone to blush. Yeah. It was so good I’m not even able to feel embarrassed about it. My stress levels are beyond appreciative.

Today is yet again a dreary, rainy day. At least it’s not snow…? It’s also decently warm rather than freezing. I’m pretty low energy. Most likely because after making two drinks last night during D&D I had total faith in my ability to make a third drink.

My head: I have regrets. Many, many regrets. >.<;

Luckily, I don’t have a lot to do today. I got a message from work last night during D&D asking if I would cover a shift for incentive pay, but it got covered by someone else. Not complaining. I have to get the clothes from the house so I can’t put them away at some point. Not sweating over it.

Really… I wouldn’t mind doing a bunch of nothing. My final meal is cooking at the moment and that’s pretty self-sufficient since all it needs to do is bake for an hour. I’ve written what feels like a massive post… With everything else in my life still mostly stable and quiet I feel like I can actually afford to chill today and enjoy some stillness and peace.

Daily Post 198: D&D Slug

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I woke up on the tired side today. With how productive and full of interaction yesterday was, I’m not really giving myself shit for taking it slow so far.

Yesterday was school, grocery shopping, the gym, and in between all of those things multiple conversations about my brother moving here to Nebraska. A lot of mental work went into figuring out solutions, ironing out priorities, and game planning for the future. Add to that two rounds of sexy time. Not just one, but two after pushing pretty hard at the gym… No wonder I woke up the way I did.

Ox and I talked about our recent bout of sex. I’m totally not complaining. It is different than what I have grown accustomed to over the two years we’ve been in a relationship though. It leaves a part of my self feeling vulnerable. Here is this thing I’ve been desperately wanting, being willing given out of nowhere.

My Brain: This is amazing and exactly what I want. I don’t trust it. >.>

Of course, Brain. Ruin a good thing why don’t you. >.<

My vulnerability led to open discussion and a clearer understanding of our relationship and where we’re at. Which, we’re in a good place if you were wondering.

After waking up this morning, I slowly slugged through the tasks I had. Feed the kittens. Eat breakfast before taking meds. Clean the litter box. Take out the trash. Get the chicken marinating. Run over to the house with laundry and get that started. Log my workout from yesterday.

Not a whole lot of exciting stuff but all things I was able to put a green mark through on my sheet of paper for the day. Go me.

I went into town for counseling. We spent most of our hour together talking about all of the developments with Jon and how yesterday went. We talked about the bill for my surgery and how it won’t be until after my session next week that I find out more about my cancer status. We talked about how D&D went and how the gym is going. Lots of stuff.

There’s been a lot of good, stable things recently. I feel like the past few weeks have been a tentative calm after all of the chaos pre and post-surgery. I believe there will still be some bumps in the future in regards to the iodine treatment. There’s a tension within me. This feeling that things aren’t over and that the calm and peace I feel now won’t last for much longer.

I do think I’m doing better. I do think I’m focusing more on my self and making sure I’m on stable ground for this next phase, and I think that’s what a lot of these past weeks have been. Finding my footing so I can keep going forward to the next hard thing. So while I don’t have a whole lot to talk about in regards to problem-solving my life in counseling, I don’t think I’m at a point where I want to stop going or reduce the number of times we meet in a month. I think I still need to utilize this resource for the time being.

After counseling, I called Ox. We agreed I would go to the apartment and keep plucking away at things, so I did. At the moment, nearly all of my meal prep is done. Just waiting for the chicken taco soup to finish up in the Ninja so I can shred the chicken and divide everything up into containers. I want to finally sweep the bedroom and maybe mop it. I’ve already put dye in my hair so at some point I need to rinse it out.

All of the stuff is packed for D&D tonight, so there’s not much to do in that regard. Just make sure I take the bag out the door with me, which is the true test. XD

Aside from some other minor things, putting the dishes away, switching the wash, typing up the remaining notes, there’s not a whole lot left to today. I’m ok with that. It’s been a quiet day so far. A slow quiet day after a lot of busy excitement.

I’ll keep you posted on how D&D goes. : 3

Daily Post 189: Post-Op and Work

Standard

I still have a ways to go to catch up on everything that’s happened post-surgery.

I left off last with dropping my dad off at the airport. I went to school. I turned in the makeup work for the previous Thursday. I got all of the other information I missed. Nothing overly exciting or special. I still had the dressing over my incision so I was pretty self-conscious about being out in public.

Later in the day, I had my post-op appointment. I got to see the surgeon again. He explained that the pathology had come back. Cancer cells were found in my lymph nodes so he recommended that I receive a radioactive iodine treatment.

That wasn’t the news I was hoping to hear. I wanted to be told that this chapter in my life was over. Cancer had lost the war. I could move on with figuring out my new normal. Surgery was supposed to have prevented me from needing additional things. But no. Now I had to call my brothers and tell them it wasn’t over. I was going to have to go back to work and tell that to my coworkers. To my patients.

I still have cancer.

The PA took the dressing off my incision. She said it looked really good. I don’t have a lot of experience with incisions so I wouldn’t know. When we left the office I stopped at one of the restrooms so I could see it. It was the first time I had seen it. The first time looking at my new reflection.

Ox held me while I cried in front of the elevators. While I verbally vomited all of my anger and frustration. We were supposed to be done. How am I supposed to afford a three-day hospital stay and everything that is going to go along with this next step?

He said we would figure it out and he continued to hold me until I was ok enough to leave, going back out into the world to do things.

We stopped at the hospital while we were there. I got to deliver the thank you cards I had written for the team that took care of me. It felt good. I hope the cards got to everyone.

Wednesday I had counseling. I got to explain how the week with my dad went. I got to talk about my feelings regarding my post-op appointment. I don’t think a lot of anything else happened that day.

Thursday was another school day. The weather was pretty crappy so I left early, getting to school at 8 am for my 9:30 class. Around 9:15 a woman came in and asked me and the other student who was present if we were the Intro to Sociology class. I said yes, we were.

Woman: Due to the weather your instructor won’t be able to be here today. Your class is canceled.

Sort of sucked to have driven all the way into town for nothing, but hey… I didn’t have class. I called Ox and asked him if he wanted me to pick up anything from the store before going home. He said no and told me to drive safely.

I made it back to the apartment. I don’t remember what I did… Maybe I was cross-stitching or doing random odds and ends. Either way… imagine my surprise when I get a notification from my Canvas app telling me that I was marked absent from school…

Fuuuuucccckkk…. my life…

I sent a message to the instructor explaining how I had been told class was canceled. Had there been a miscommunication? I left it at that, mildly contemplating if I should just go ahead and withdraw from the course. I mean… was it really worth all of the stress when I had so many other things still going on in my life?

I decided to wait on making a decision until I heard back from my instructor. If I was penalized for believing a school official’s word then I would peace out in a heartbeat. Fuck that shit. I have better things to do with my time. I stayed pretty aggravated over the issue for a while since I never got a reply to my message.

Friday was my first day back at work. It was pretty brutal even though the day itself was smooth in comparison to most of my “normal” days. I still got tired easily. I had to sit down a lot. I thought about saying that I wasn’t ready to come back to work yet and that we needed to find coverage for my Saturday shift.

I didn’t, though. Not sure if that was smart or not, but I went to work Saturday. It went better. Still a little under the weather, but I made it through and I was proud of myself for it.

Ox and I were supposed to go into town Sunday but we ended up staying at home instead. I was grateful to not go anywhere. I was tired. Most likely from work taking so much out of me. Sunday ended up being a day of recovery since I had work again Monday.

Monday went well. Better than my first two days back. Even my RN mentioned how I was on point and kept jumping from one thing to the next to the next. In my defense, things just happened to be spaced out that once I was pretty much done with one event I was able to move seamlessly to the next thing. It’s not like I was trying to work extra hard or fast or anything. There happened to be a flow and I stayed with it. I didn’t feel overly tired. I didn’t have to take as many breaks to sit down and catch my breath. It was a good day and it made me hopeful that my days would continue getting better as my incision healed.

So that’s another week caught up on. I’m sure I’m leaving out details here and there, but those are the major points from that week. Mostly that I found out the Cancer Saga isn’t over, becoming acquainted with my new self, and going back to work.