family

Letters to Mom 017: Happy Late Mother’s Day

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I didn’t write on Mother’s Day.

I had a dream about mom the night before. I still remember it.

I was in a house. I was with other people though I don’t remember who they were. I remember that I knew them, but I’m not sure if it was family or close friends. We were supposed to be going somewhere, but mom had said she would be visiting and I really wanted to see her before we left the house. I knew I wouldn’t be able to see her again for a while. It was important that I be there. It was my one chance.

I remember the feelings of anxiety and worry. Mom was running late. Her flight was delayed and there was traffic and all of these things keeping her from getting to the house on time. The people I was with were getting annoyed with me because we ourselves were going to be late if we didn’t leave soon, but I kept asking for more time. Just a few more minutes. Please. She’s so close. Just a little longer…

I remember in the dream I was almost in tears but the other people wouldn’t wait any longer. It was so hard, so heavy, to close the front door, to turn the lock. It sounded so final; the door closing. It was like I had allowed myself to give up. It was me giving in. It was me walking away and not waiting. It was me caving to pressure.

I wanted to wait. I wanted to be there. I wanted to see my mom. But I wasn’t staying and that felt like a betrayal. I was making the wrong choice and I hated it but I didn’t know what else to do. I had to leave with them.

There was so much confliction inside me and still, I turned to walk away from the door. But just as I did there was a knock.

I knew it was her. I knew mom had finally arrived and I didn’t care if I was late to whatever it was I was supposed to go to. I turned around as fast as I could and unlocked the door, throwing it open without regard.

She was there. My mom was there. I threw my arms around her and hugged her and cried.

I heard her say my name over my tears.

I KNOW she said it. I can still feel it in my chest even though I honestly can’t remember what it sounded like.

I just… I know my dream was real and that mom is still here, in whatever way the Universe is allowing.

This Mother’s Day my mom gave me a gift instead of the other way around and I still cry when I think about it. Fucking tears…

I’m grateful for my dream.

Thank you, mom, for everything that you did in life and everything you continue to do for me. I’m sorry I didn’t write on Mother’s Day. I’m sorry I still get sad and have hard days like Tuesday.

I’m sorry I’m not doing better even though I know writing that will make you frustrated with me because I know I’m doing amazing right now. I’m doing so much better than I ever have before and that makes me angry and sad at the same time because I wish you were here so I could show you; so you could be part of it. I wish I could call you and tell you about everything. I wish you could come visit and watch me beat people with sticks at SCA practice and meet Ox and just… everything.

I love you, mom. I wish it hadn’t taken your death to make me the adult I am now. I wish we had had more time. I wish I had thought to ask you all the questions I have now. I wish I had listened to your stories more. I wish I knew more about the hardships you faced while you were growing up. I wish I had you the way so many people still have their mom, but at the same time I know we’re closer for what we went through.

Thank you for raising me. Thank you for the dreams I have of you. Thank you for helping me get through the hard times.

Happy late Mother’s Day, mom.

I love you. Forever and for always.

002: Fuck Depression

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Here I am again. Writing. The last time I sat down to do this was February. 

I am through the healing of skin cancer. I have facial scarring on my cheek. That’s still hard to deal with. People still look away from me. It doesn’t sting as much as it used to but it still hurts in its own way. A reminder that I am different.

In the span of these months I was hospitalized for suicidal intention. I know that’s hard for people to read. Sometimes life sucks.

In june my godfather died. Two weeks later Ox’s dad died. A week after that my cousin, who was more like a sister, was taken off life support. The following Monday I had to be back to work, being productive. I tried really hard to be ok, but the truth was I wasn’t and the harder I tried the darker it got inside my head. 

I was placed on short term disability. I went to therapy a lot. I was put on different meds. The best one was Prazosin to help with the night terrors I was having. Being able to sleep was the start to my recovery from crippling depression.

I’m not recovered fully, but I am better than I was and so maybe that counts for something. 

Through therapy it was decided that I wanted to be closer to family. In two weeks I had my stuff packed in my car, cats included, and moved to Ohio to live with my dad. 

I don’t know what that means for Ox and me. We haven’t really talked about it much. We text every so often but it’s not about anything deep. It’s not about the hurt I know is there or the unanswered question of if we are still together. Maybe one day I’ll have it in me to ask those questions, but today doesn’t seem to be that day. 

I was told that I needed to be selfish for a little bit. I need to find myself through all of the wreckage of loss.

What do I want?

I can feel myself pulling away from that question. 

I want my mom back. Forever and always, I will want this thing that I can’t have. Another phone call. One last hug. One more, “I believe in you.”

We celebrated my birthday yesterday. My halfsisters were there with their significant others. It was a “good” evening, and yet I wanted to cry so many times. I didn’t ask for a celebration. I didn’t want one. If I were truly being selfish I would have said no, don’t do this painful thing that reminds me my mom is dead. But I didn’t.

I know they mean well. I know this action comes from a place of love, but I am so tired of people thinking that everything is ok, that I’m fine, that these things don’t hurt.

I want my mom and I can never have that again. It makes everything else seem so pointless and hollow. 

I want to feel safe. I want to feel like my life matters and has a purpose. I want to be financially stable. I want to have my own apartment because it seems like I’ll never be able to own a house. It’s like I fucked that up when I was younger, made stupid choices and now that dream, too, is unattainable. An apartment is more realistic. 

I want a stable job that doesn’t drain the little life I have out of me. 

I want a bdsm relationship. I want to be polyamorous. I want to be me. 

I guess that’s what it comes down to. If I were selfish, I would be wholly, unapologetically me.

How sad that I don’t know what that even means any more. Through all of the loss and struggle and hopelessness, I don’t know who I am in the aftermath. 

So I guess this is the first step to finding myself. Writing. Hearing my own thoughts. My own fears and wants. My own selfishness which is really just another way of saying existence. We all have wants and needs, and I know on some level mine matter. 

I guess I’m hoping that one writing at a time, one small moment at a time, I’ll hear that voice I know is there. The one that got beaten down to nearly nothingness. She’s there, somewhere.

I want her to know I still care. I’m still here. She still matters and I love her.

Evening Reflection 020: Isolating vs Connecting

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Daily Summary: 

Last night wasn’t awesome. I read my writing to Ox. I was already emotionally raw before I did. I was feeling vulnerable for sharing my “ideal” which I knew didn’t 100% line up with his or Bunny’s “ideal”. 

I felt shame and guilt over wanting something different. I felt trapped in a future that would have constant interaction with people and no solitude and a disastrous kitchen and all these horrific things that as an introvert I didn’t want. 

I don’t cohabitate with others well. I know I don’t. I’ve had almost 15 years’ worth of roommates to attest to not liking shared living environments and the fallout that goes along with it ending badly. 

Looking back at last night, I wanted reassurance that I wasn’t an awful person for wanting things that were different from other people. I wanted to know that the terrible extroverted future I was seeing for myself was fear and inaccurate. 

Instead, I got, “We don’t know what the future will be like.”

That’s fair. It’s an accurate statement. It left me feeling alienated with a nebulous, “The awfulness you’re picturing could happen,” bouncing around inside my head.

I couldn’t sleep for a really long time. I had a cry session while Ox slept next to me. I ended up sleeping on the couch for most of the night. When Ox woke up to use the restroom he woke me up to give me a hug.

“You’re allowed to come back to the room.”

I don’t know why those words were the words I didn’t know I needed to hear, but it felt like even though I was up in my feels that I had permission to be next to him. Even if my wants were different, things were still ok. 

After that midnight wake up, things were better. I slept deeply after curling up in bed with Ox and the kittens. I didn’t dream about dead bodies and ruined lives. 

Ox and I slept in a little this morning. We were tired from cleaning and working in the addition the day before. We waited until after breakfast to get back to work. We finished putting up the joists in what will become the living area upstairs. We’re saving the insulation work for next weekend when the kids are here. There’s some work that will require the electric stapler which is something the kids might get a kick out of using. They both want to help and to be part of the project. Finding things that are within their ability at the moment is tricky, but this is one of the things they could help with, so we thought it better to call it good for now and wait on the rest of it. 

Ox and I showered after we were doing working. We packed up our things and the kittens and headed back to the rental. I convinced him to swing by a few Pokestops so I could complete one of my tasks in Pokemon Go. Totally not obsessing over the game… >.>;

I paid bills once I got the kittens situated and some other chores done. That sucked. With my brother’s contribution still up in the air, I feel the stress of financial insecurity pressing in around me.

I ended up talking with my dad for a while. The topic came up and I explained how moving with Jon went, about his previous lapse in paying rent, and now the current stress of him backing out of the agreement we had which would leave me screwed.

I’m already looking into things as back. I told my dad I feel like this is the lesson I’m supposed to learn in life; to keep boundaries around finances because no matter who it is, family, partner, friend, they’re going to screw you over. 

It sucks. So much of my life has been trying to figure out life after helping people financially only to be worse off for helping. It’s frustrating to be in this situation because I thought it would be different since Jon is my brother. But here I am, trying to deal with/cope with financial uncertainty because I wanted to help him get a house. 

And yet… he feels unloved and unsupported. 

I was supposed to see him today. He has my ladder which I need to finish painting the detail work in the bathroom. I let him borrow it so he would do work around the house only to be told that it wasn’t tall enough. So I’ve gone without my ladder for over a week now because gas is expensive and it’s too much to bring it back. 

That’s fair. I made plans to go out to his place today. I could load up the last bits of their stuff still lingering around the rental since they still haven’t come to get it. I could get my ladder in the process and knock out social time, too. All of the productiveness in one trip. 

When I messaged him, he didn’t reply. When I tried calling, he didn’t answer. 

I’m not driving out of my way without communication. I don’t want to go there for them to not be home because their out shopping for stuff for the garden or something. I don’t have money to waste on gas either, especially when I’m most likely not going to have the support I was depending on when I signed the lease for this house. 

So instead I talked to my dad. It was a good phone call. I think he wasn’t getting the full picture, which isn’t surprising because that’s human nature. We tell the details that are “relevant”. Tell my dad my side of the story changes the situation he was being told. He’s not going to say anything to my brother which I appreciate. I don’t need more drama in that area of my life. I would rather just let Jon do his thing, since that’s what he’s going to do anyway, and figure it out. 

It was a little bit after I got off the phone with my dad that Jon called me. Ox and I were about to run to the store. Jon said he wasn’t going to be going to the birthday party he was originally going to go to. It’s why I had wanted to go to his place earlier in the day. I knew he had plans and was trying to be respectful about them.

That was around 2 in the afternoon. At 5 pm, I really don’t want to drive 30 minutes to hang out with someone I don’t want to see, to drive 30 minutes back to fall into bed so I can get attempt to get a decent amount of sleep before my kickboxing class. 

So I told Jon it wouldn’t work out for me to come this weekend. Could we see about next weekend? 

“I’m too tired to care atm. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Sort of a shitty text to get. I’m not going to waste emotional energy on it. I’m tired of feeling like it’s his world and I’m just a minion in it, obligated to be at his beck and call. 

Fuck that. I will enjoy the rest of my evening. I’ll do my writing. I’ll have dinner with Ox. I’ll spend time with the kittens. I’ll game for a bit and rest before having an awesome class tomorrow. I’ll be mentally ready for work. I’ll get the rest of my chores done. I’ll do all of these things because I didn’t go out of my way to make your life easier like I’ve been doing for so long. 

Instead, I’m going to make my life easier. For once, deal with your own shit and keep your petty comments to yourself. I’m tired of trying to hug a cactus. 

So that’s where I’m at. Intentionally not hugging a cactus and instead, I’m taking a break from gaming to write. It’s a nice evening and I’m not going to let someone else’s real or imagined emotional “not-okness” mess with mine. 

Why does family have to suck sometimes? >.<;


Random Ramblings: Prompt 8-31

Think about the second biggest role that you play in your life for others. What’s your vision (in detail) for your life in this area? Why?

The irony of this being the next prompt is not lost on me. 

My second biggest role is family member… and on look… one of my family member dynamics is on fire. Fml…

I feel like family is supposed to be the people you turn to when you need help. Not exactly financial help, though mom did that for all of us at one point or another. 

Family is supposed to be there to help you when you fall. Maybe it’s a shitty relationship ending, or work going to shit. Maybe it’s just needing to bitch about something to get it off your chest.

I don’t know. I think about the type of support mom was for me and I feel that’s the type of support family should be for each other. You stay connected. You talk. You visit. You laugh and cry and worry and figure things out. You have connective lunches or cups of morning coffee together. 

I want to be that for my family and I am extremely aware that I am not.

I am out of touch with my cousin. Until today I hadn’t talked to my dad in a while. I hardly ever talk to my older brother and sister-in-law. I am not a figure in my nephew’s life. I wish I wasn’t a figure in my younger brother’s life. I haven’t talked to either of my uncles since my mom’s death…

How can I say I’m a family member at all?

All of my effort has been going to my younger brother, to be told he feels unloved and unsupported while he keeps going back on his word…

In my ideal “family fantasy”, I talk to my dad, cousin, and older brother more. I’m most likely a terrible person, but there are very few people I want to talk to in my family past that. I was never close to my uncles, I wasn’t very close to my dad’s family either. 

I want to focus on those three dynamics more and less on my brother. I want those people to know I care for them; that I truly love them. 

I want to visit my older brother. I want to hang out with my cousin like we did growing up. I want them to know I’m still here. 

Maybe this is all screwed up in my head right now because of the discord between me and Jon. 

I want to feel like I still have family even though mom is dead. I want to know I matter to them even if I don’t sacrifice my financial well-being to prove I love them. 

Maybe that’s what I need in this area. To reconnect with people who aren’t as toxic as my younger brother. 

Maybe I messed this section up. Maybe family member isn’t my second biggest role. If it isn’t, I don’t know what would be. I don’t know what else I am other than partner, family member, and worker. 

In my fantasy land, I am connected with my family because they love me for me, and I love them for them. It’s not from a sense of obligation or requirement. 

Much like my previous writing, I don’t know what I want from this one. I don’t know what I’ve found other than unease, vulnerability, and hurt; not just from my inaction within these dynamics but from the actions of my brother. 

These writings are supposed to help me find myself. Right now they are showing me my pain and that sucks. You can’t heal, grow past, or change something until you acknowledge what is actually going on. 

I’ve been isolating myself from the people I should connect with and connecting with the people I should be distancing myself from. 

That sucks. 

I’ll add it to the list of things to work on. 

Evening Reflections 018: My Roles

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Daily Summary:
Yesterday was alright. Made BLTs for lunch. Got some stuff done during work in regards to my mentorship. Gamed a bit. Had some good conversations with teammates. Not a whole lot happened. Spent most of the day chilling. Other than cooking, doing laundry was probably my biggest “life” accomplishment. 

I messaged back and forth with Sir a bit. It was good to hear from him. My Blacksmith and I have also been talking more. He had messaged me shortly after Ox’s email where he said he never wanted to see me again. My Blacksmith, Sir, and Warren were my biggest support structures during that period of time. All three of them helped me through the initial period of darkness and I am grateful for the conversations they were willing to have with me. 

So minor social time through text with Sir and Blacksmith.

Bunny called during my break and I got to video chat with her for a little bit. I know she wishes we could talk more. It’s hard to do while I’m at work and by the time I’m off it’s pretty late in the evening.  I’m hoping this weekend her and I can get more time to connect. I think it would be good for both of us. 

So that was my day yesterday. Not a whole lot. It was nice. No complaints. Here’s to another decent day.

Random Ramblings: Prompt 6-31
What are the three biggest roles that you play in your life, related to others? How do you feel about each one?

My three biggest roles would most likely be: Partner/companion, family member, and teammate. 

Partner/companion is in relation to the roles I fill in my closest and most important dynamics. I am a partner to Ox and Bunny. I am a companion to Sir, Warren, Blacksmith. I am ok with these roles for the most part. 

With my companion role, it is more about friendship. There is acceptance for who I am, fully. I don’t worry so much about expectations. There aren’t really obligations on either side. It’s a mutual support structure. I feel secure in my role, I understand and am ok with the boundaries. There’s an understanding that we each have our own lives and though our paths may not be in line for marriage or anything, we have worked through the yuck of breakups to maintain a unique friendship. 

The role of partner is… complicated. 

I still feel mildly undeserving. I still feel like in the future this transgression will be brought up and used as ammunition against me. I still worry even with all of the work Ox and I are putting into the dynamic, that my polyamory will never be fully accepted and I will have to spend the rest of my life either being untrue to myself, hurting myself in order to fit into a box small enough to be accepted, or fully be me and hurt those I care deeply about.

I worry being authentic will cause hurt. I worry that since Bunny and I haven’t had a lot of time together that there is resentment or hurt feelings between us that haven’t been addressed. 

I am much less secure in my role as partner. I worry about it. I worry about not being a good one. I worry that I shouldn’t be a partner anymore; that the recent addition to my relationship history makes me unfit for the role for the rest of forever. 

I worry that I really should just be the crazy cat lady and forgo relationships. 

That’s how I feel about that aspect of my life. I am working on it, but right now it is still tentative at best and something fragile. Vulnerable. Uncertain. 

Family member is a role I am ok with as well. I am a sister to my brothers and a daughter to my father. I will always be my mother’s daughter. The relationship with my younger brother is the only one that I have concerns over. He can be unkind at times. He can lash out specifically at me because I’m an easy target. I have learned to distance myself during those moments until his emotions have had their time and he and I can have legitimate discussion. 

This is the one family dynamic that has any sort of strife in it. I manage it the best I can and I understand the limitations of asking for/depending on his support. I am proud of the progress Jon and I have made since we were in high school. At the same time, my heart also aches over the viciousness we are still able to inflict upon each other. 

Overall I will say I am ok with my role as family member. I understand my place within that role for the various people I fill it for. I may wish some of those roles were different. I also understand I cannot change others. I can only change myself. 

The role of teammate is a role that I enjoy filling. I am supportive of my teammates at work. I engage with leadership and am proactive in my growth and development as an employee. Work has always come naturally to me. I understand “the game” and I’m good at playing it. I have a strong sense of work ethic. I do what I’m supposed to do when I’m supposed to do it. I show up on time. If I don’t understand something I ask. I would rather ask and look foolish than fuck something up trying to fake competence. 

Out of my top three roles, even though this one is listed last, it is the one I am most secure with. Part of me thinks that’s sort of sad. I have a more secure foundation with total strangers than I do with the people who are supposed to be closest to me. 

I know part of that is my own doing. At the same time, the issues that lead to my cheating were present for years. There are several deep-rooted issues on all sides. It’s going to take time to address those and heal the hurt from those in addition to the devastation of my actions. 

My #1 Clifton Strength is Restoration. I thrive on fixing things; especially things other people have given up on. 

I can see how to mend the relationships. I worry though. I worry it won’t work. I worry I’ll always have to be less than my full self. I worry I’ll always be misunderstood. 

I guess that’s the biggest thing undermining my sense of security in the “partner” area. I worry. I fear. And there’s really nothing anyone can do to change that. Those things are all inside my own head. They are my perspective, and so it falls to me to work through them. 

Dragon’s Horde 060: New Nostalgia

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During the week my dad stayed with me post-surgery we ended up walking through Walmart a few times. During one of those times we decided to get a puzzle to work on together. My dad and I used to do puzzles all the time before my parents divorced.

As we were talking about what puzzle to get, I mentioned how I’ve put together a handful of 3D crystal puzzles. He had never heard or seen them, so we took a look while we were at the store. Wouldn’t you know… they had a purple dragon puzzle. I couldn’t have asked for something more perfect.

My dad and I spent the next few hours of the afternoon working on it together. It was amazing. I hadn’t realized how much I missed something as simple as sitting with him, working on something, and chatting about nothing important while bitching about pieces not fitting right.

The whole week, but this experience specifically, helped reaffirm something for me. I do have a dad and he does care about and love me. I might not be the 8-year-old girl I once was, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be nostalgic about my past, and hopeful about my future.

I know you won’t read this post, but I want you to know I love you, dad. Thanks for being there for me when mom died. That’s for holding my hand through this terrifying time of having cancer. Thanks for letting me know that I still have a partent and that somewhere, deep inside, it’s ok to still be a kid.

Daily Post 192: Post-D&D

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D&D was fun. I enjoyed being able to roleplay my character. We’re playing The Ghosts of SaltMarsh campaign, which I know a little bit about. Jon played through it with one of his groups. It will be interesting to see how our experience ends up different than his.

We gamed at the house of the husband and wife that Ox and I met the week before. The beginning was slow. We were waiting for other people to show up. The husband and wife have a daughter who ended up creating a character to play with us. She’s only 14-ish, so being around a bunch of adults she doesn’t know was a little awkward for her. I think she’ll come out of her shell more as we continue playing and she learns not only the mechanics of the game but the character she wants to be.

Once everyone was there we went around the table and introduced our characters. We figured out where we would be on the map and then began the game. We eventually all met up and after some discussion, agreed to check out the haunted house outside of town. A dead body was found washed up on the shore and it’s believed the house is somehow involved.

There were several times where the other players were having a hard time breathing because they were laughing so hard at what my character was doing or saying. God, it was so fun.

We didn’t get pizza. That was a little rough. Ox and I had stopped for snacks, but we didn’t really eat much in regards to dinner. Better mistakes next time.

As we were leaving I thanked the DM and his wife for such a good time. We’re scheduled to meet next Wednesday to continue our campaign. I’m thinking about offering to cook something for the group to eat. Not sure what, but I think it would be a nice gesture. They’re providing the space for us to play. I feel like it’s right for everyone else to provide food and drink.

Anywho, after gaming, Ox and I headed home. I called Jon back and talked to him during the ride. He had called earlier in the day while I was writing and I had said I would call him back, but then got distracted and then D&D was going on so I couldn’t talk on the phone… so yeah, I chatted with him for a bit. Ox drove to the house to get the stuff he needed for work the next day. We went to the apartment. He instantly fell asleep. I stayed up until 12:30-ish trying to fall asleep but not being very successful.

Today started decently enough. I woke up at six and stayed in bed, desperately trying to go back to sleep. At 7am I gave up since the kittens obviously did not care how tired I was or was not. I fed them and took my meds. I put the D&D stuff away so it wasn’t on the kitchen table anymore. Most of the hour I had to kill I spent reading Chapter 3 in my sociology book.

Around 8, I showered, got dressed, packed up, then headed to school. I was early so I continued reading. As class began I realized I didn’t have a pen, but was thankfully able to borrow one from a classmate.

We turned in our reference lists at the beginning. While the instructor went through them, the class listened to a presentation. It was a case study presented on NPR called New Baboon. It was pretty interesting. I took three pages worth of notes. After the presentation, we divided up into groups to answer some questions. We had just started discussing our answers as a class when we hit the 10:50 mark and class ended. We’re going to pick up the discussion on Tuesday.

All of my sources were approved, so that’s nice. I would like to start plucking away at the paper on Sunday. I had to run to catch up with the classmate who had loaned me her pen. She had forgotten about it. It made me feel good to remember to give it back.

I drove home after talking to Ox on the phone for a bit. I finished reading chapter 3 once I was at the apartment. I took the test associated with it. Got a 93. I’m ok with that. I typed up my notes from class and got them in my binder. I read the handout of another case study our instructor wants us to analyze.

At that point, I gave up trying to do more with school. The kittens were doing everything in the power to drive me crazy. Jumping on the stove. Stepping on my keyboard. Terrorizing the shower curtain…

I took a break, stepping outside to call Ox again while having a cigarette. I felt a little better after being outside. It’s sunny today. Not overly warm, but a nicer day than the previous two.

I ended up crawling under my blanket and napping for a bit with the kittens who thankfully settled down with me.

And that’s where I’m at so far today. I woke up. I called in the refill for my Synthroid since I have eight pills left. That will be ready for pick up tomorrow but I’ll most likely wait until Sunday to get it. I hope there’s not a copay for this one as well. That would be amazing. I’m not holding my breath though. I think it will be roughly another $40.

My to-do list has a few other tasks I would like to maybe do, but I’m still on the tired side of the energy spectrum and I haven’t done much in the way of coloring or cross-stitching since Saturday I believe. D&D sort of took over for a bit with character creation.

I don’t know… I’ll figure out the rest of my day, but for now, I do know that I’m done with school and I don’t have work obligations until tomorrow morning. The rest of the day is mine to do whatever I want.

Musing Moment 141: Post-Consultation

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This is the first day where I have the space, the silence, to really sit down and have a talk with myself about recent events.

So self… How are you? And no, “I’m fine,” isn’t an ok answer between us. I’m here for you. I will always be here for you and I need you to be honest with me; with us.

How are you feeling about having cancer?

Having cancer isn’t really the thing that bothers me. The thought of having surgery bothers me. The thought of my life depending on a daily medication bothers me. What happens if there’s a zombie apocalypse? A nuclear bomb? What happens if I’m kidnapped or taken hostage and I’m denied access to my medication? What happens if I can no longer obtain it?

Having my thyroid removed will keep me alive. I get it. There’s something inside my body that while yes, it is slow-growing, doesn’t spread, blah blah blah… it’s still trying to kill me and will succeed if I don’t remove it. I accept that. I have to have surgery in order to stay alive. But after surgery, the only reason I can keep living a “normal” life is because I live in a place, in a time, where I can give my body the thing it will no longer be able to create on its own.

So what happens if that changes? What happens if the time and place no longer work the way they currently do and I’m left without what I need to live?

Ox and I have an understanding. I called him on my lunch break at work on Friday. We talked about this. I know for a lot of people it may seem silly, stupid, to entertain such far-fetched ideas; things that will “never” happen. But I need to know. If.. IF… they did happen, what would we do?

I told him that I needed him to promise me, if this became a legitimate issue that he would take me out, or if he couldn’t do it himself, to let me do it myself.

Of course, I was in tears as I made him promise me.

If I have no control over my need for this medication, then I want to have the control to at least not suffer if I’ll never be able to get it again. I need the people in my life to understand not only is this the type of issues I’m having to contend with and reconcile within myself, I need them to understand that these are my wishes, while I’m still of sound mind and body.

Me: Don’t let me suffer.

I’ve talked to Jon and he’s agreed to be who I name in my living will, because there are no guarantees in life. This surgery is safe and very rarely are there complications… more blah blah blah blah…

Mom was about to be discharged to go to rehab when she had a pumonary emolism, ok? Don’t give me your bullshit about everythings going to be fine and I don’t need to worry about things like that.

Yeah… I fucking do because unless you can show me my contract where it says I’ll have no complications and go on to live a full life and die many, many years later, then you can’t tell me this isn’t something I need to worry about. You’re not the one literally having your throat cut open by a stranger who’s an asshole and didn’t even have time to answer your questions.

I want to have things in place just in case there’s a complication after surgery. That way the people I love aren’t left not knowing what to do because we never talked about the real shit that mattered. I’ve already started looking into a last will and who would get the hope chest my grandfather made for me and mom’s china hutch and china set and my cross stitch stuff or my magic cards. I’ve already asked Ox what would happen to the kittens if I were to die because I need to know they’ll be ok.

That’s the type of shit I’m having to think about while my patients ask me how my Thanksgiving was.

Me: Do collectors get to take their due out of the life insurance I’ve left for my brothers? Oh, yeah… Thanksgiving was nice. Not a lot happened…

Except everything happened. I was diagnosed with cancer and have had to have non-stop conversations with countless people about it and I still don’t have a surgery date because my insurance has to “approve” my surgery.

What the actual fuck?

Are you saying it’s possible to be denied a life-saving operation? Should this be something I actually put energy into worrying about because it’s a thing? I need approval for a medical procedure when I’ve paid thousands of dollars on health insurance from when I first started working until now? Thousands of dollars that I’ve never actually used for anything other than yearly checkups?

No wonder so many people have fucking issues with our health system. I’ve done more than my part and yet I need “approval”?

Go fuck yourselves.

I’m having to think about things like, “if I were to die should I be buried or cremated? If I’m buried, where should I be buried so the people who would want to visit my grave can do so without having to spend thousands of dollars to do it? If I die somewhere far away from my burial site, how expensive would it be to send my body to the burial location? Is that even a thing? If so do I have to be imbalmed to do it?”

God. So many fucking questions. And I have a group project I haven’t even really touched for school this coming week. Not to mention all of the reading for this unit that I haven’t done. Not going to feel bad about prioritizing reassuring family and friends that I’m not dying as I prepare for the possibility of my death over reading nursing school BS assignments that haven’t helped me score better on the tests because your tests are BS to begin with. Arg… >.<

There’s so much going on inside of my head that I don’t even know where to begin.

Does having surgery make you less of a cancer survivor? I mean… It’s not like I’m fighting it. I’m not going through chemo. I’m not having to do a lot of stuff that most people diagnosed with cancer have to go through. I have this surgery. It’s removed. I go about my life… That’s not heroic. That’s not really “fighting”, is it? I’m having someone else cut me open. They’re doing all the work and I’m hoping they do it well enough to not fuck up.

That seems sort of like a cheap way of fighting cancer. Not cheap as in “not expensive”. But cheap as in, “I’m not having to face the same hardships as others”, so does my experience really count? Would I really be a cancer survivor?

So that brings into question, how do I feel about mom? She had cancer. The same cancer, in fact. Do I think of her as a cancer survivor?

Honestly, I never really thought about it. I knew she had thyroid cancer at some point; before I was born. I knew she had surgery. I knew she took medication. But I never talked to her about it. I never questioned it. She was mom. She was awesome. I didn’t think to talk to her about it. I didn’t think to explore that experience, that side of her. And now that I’m facing it myself, there’s no way to go back and have those conversations.

There was this whole side of her that I never knew anything about and I’ll never know it because I never thought to ask.

I do think of her as a survivor. I do think of her as a badass; even more badass now since I’m facing something she went through. So if I think of her that way, why am I different? Why wouldn’t I think of myself in the same way, the same light, as someone who went through literally the same thing I’m going through?

That’s not fair. That’s not logically. What is it about me that makes me unworthy of the same mentality? Why am I put into a different box of “non-survivor” status?

I don’t have an answer for that. At least not yet. But I know it’s there so that’s at least a step in the right direction.

The surgeon himself is a jerk. I had to dig out my surprised face for that one… He came into the room and didn’t even know what I was there for. He “believed” I was there for thyroid issues… yeah, because the last time I checked cancer is sort of an issue… He didn’t know if I should have a partial removal or a full removal… Well… based on the information from my endocrinologist, there’s a questionable nodule less than a centimeter big in my left lobe, so her recommendation was for a full removal instead of a partial… You know, taking out everything since you’ll already have to take out the right side. It would be better to have a baseline of ok rather than a baseline of “what’s this weird shit over here going to do later down the road,” sort of a thing…

It felt like I was doing his job for him because he knew nothing about my case.

He gave me his sales pitch, telling me how experienced he was and how post-surgery would go then stood to leave. I mentioned that I still had questions, not mentioning that it was four pages worth of questions since some of them had already been covered.

Surgeon: Well, I’m already 30 minutes late for a surgery so I really can’t stay.

Fuck you, dude. If your nurse practitioner wasn’t amazing I would be looking for someone else to cut me open. Actually, I dislike you so much I almost would rather die of cancer than let you save me. Seriously. I came to this appointment because you were supposed to have time for me and to know my case, which apparently you couldn’t do either of those things.

I flipped him off when he closed the door, leaving me and Ox alone in the room, waiting, as he flagged down his NP to come clean up his mess.

The NP is amazing, though, and literally the only reason I’m staying with this particular surgeon. One of my coworkers knows of him. She used to work at the same hospital. She said even the other doctors think he’s an asshole, which is saying something. If other doctors, who are assholes, think you’re an asshole, then you must be a special type of special.

But yeah, his NP is fantastic. She was so kind and compassionate. She understood when I explained the situation about mom and how at the moment I felt relatively fine but that pre-surgery would most likely be extremely hard for me. She assured me she would be in the surgery room with me, helping the surgeon, and that she could even be with me pre-surgery if it would help. Knowing she’ll be there makes it seem more doable. I won’t be alone. I’ll know someone. She said she would most likely be the person checking on me post-surgery as well since they’ll have to keep me overnight to make sure there aren’t complications. She even answered all the questions I had in my notebook, never indicating that any of them were stupid or silly. Even my question about “Will it being winter affect my recovery?” was answered with kindness and compassion and an informative response; which depression is a big worry about surgeries in winter, in case you were wondering.

If I’m unconscious for the whole time I’m around Mr. Asshole and conscious for all the other times with the NP, then I think I’ll be ok.

The NP actually had a thyroidectomy herself… when she was 20… Holy fuck? You had just graduated high school and were told you had cancer? What the actual fuck, Universe? I want to talk more to her and hear her perspective. How did you feel being told that young that you had cancer? How do you feel now? Do you feel like a cancer survivor? Do you ever feel vulnerable or less than or unworthy because you’re missing part of yourself?

Jon, Jason, and my dad have wanted to know if I want them there. I’m not sure yet. I’m hoping to have the surgery between the 18th of December and the 9th of January. There’s a part of me who’s hoping for the 20th of December so I can avoid all of the birthday stuff…

Me: Sorry guys, I would love to have a party… but, you know… cancer… so I can’t… Maybe next year, though. Love you. Bye. : D

Oh, and trust me… I’ve been making a ton of cancer jokes. I mean… if my choices are crying about it or making extremely inapproiate jokes about it… I’m totally going to joke and laugh.

I want to have the surgery before my winter break from school ends. Though, I still don’t know what I want to do with school yet. I haven’t told my instructors since it’s been holiday break.

At the moment I’m inclined to tell my family, “No. Don’t come”. It’s the holidays. Traveling is going to be a nightmare and ridiculously expensive for something that is a borderline outpatient surgery. I mean… everyone keeps making it sound like, “You’re sick. You go to the doctor. They make you better. You go home.” Why would I have people waste time and money to be there for something when in two to three days I’ll be back at work? Shouldn’t I be able to handle that alone without having to drag everyone through that emotional and financial expense?

It’s confusing. My friend Allison, who just had a baby not even two weeks ago, talked to me a bit about that part of the situation. Which, you want to talk about raining on someone’s parade…?

Me: Congratulations! By the way, I have cancer. How was childbirth?

She said that maybe Jason, Jon, and my dad WANT to be there. That it would make them feel better TO be there, rather than being home, by themselves, no knowing what’s going on. Not being able to see me before or after surgery.

She has a point. It’s not fair of me to make decisions for them. They’re adults. They can decide if seeing me in a hospital is something they can or cannot handle. It’s not my place to say if it is or isn’t. It’s not my place to take the choice away from them.

I won’t know until early this coming week when surgery will be. I have to make it through at least another day of work, maybe a day of school, with not knowing. What if it ends up being Christmas week when it’s my turn to work Sunday at the clinic since New Tech covered this past Sunday for the Thanksgiving holiday? What if I’m unable to cover my three days at the clinic?

Even though I’ve been told by my boss, who has also gone through something similar with her thyroid, not to worry about work, I’m me and I’m going to fucking worry, ok? Telling me not to worry is like telling me not to breathe. Let me get right on that…

I worry about my team. I love my team and this is going to affect them just as much as Ox or anyone else in my life. Maybe more so since I spend so much time working beside them.

It is going to take a bit of time to figure out the dosage of medication I’m supposed to be on. There’s math and stuff to help figure out a “right” dose but that’s more of a starting point rather than a miracle number. Every person is different and every person responds differently. We won’t know until about six weeks post-surgery if their numbers are working. If they aren’t, does the dose need to be increased or decreased? After the adjustment is made it will be another six weeks before lab work and be redone to see if the dosage is better or worse. Finding the right dosage is going to be a process, a long one, and during this time because the thyroid controls your metabolism and energy levels, my moods are going to be all over the place.

If my dosage is too low, I’ll be tired and fatigued, and not the kind that coffee and a shit ton of caffeine will help with. I will be physically, bone-achingly tired because my body can’t process energy the way it’s supposed to. If my dose is too high, I basically feel like I’m on speed, unable to sleep or focus. Unable to stop or sit still. Not all that awful aside from the health complications that go along with not sleeping and the potential heart arrhythmias… At least the apartment will be clean when I die? That’s a bright side, right?

So I’m supposed to go six to 12 weeks of potential “wtf” inside my body that I have absolutely no control over while going to nursing school three days a week and working another three at the clinic and only have Sunday off, ever, to do the rest of the shit that needs to happen in my life, like paying bills and laundry, food shopping and cooking, followup appointments, vet visits, mental and emotional breakdowns…

Yeah, all of life gets regulated to a single day next semester. How am I supposed to be successful at anything with everything I have going on?

I don’t have an answer for that either, at least not yet.

I want to talk to the head of the LPN program to see what my options are as far as school is concerned. I’ve already taken out loans for the program. What happens if I stop? Does the school refund the money? It’s not like I’m, “Naw. I’m not feeling this whole nursing thing. I’m going to go be couch potato instead.” I literally have cancer and I don’t want to have to worry about school assignments while I’m trying to be mentally and emotionally ok because I’m really not mentally and emotionally ok right now.

Can I sit out this coming semester? Maybe take a prerequisite for the RN program like Microbiology? Something online so I don’t have to worry about traveling anywhere on my days off from work but still something moving me in a forward direction and keeping me “active”? Could I hop back into the LPN program but do it full-time instead of part-time? I mean… I was already having to look at cutting back my time at work anyway since the part-time program meets Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. If I’m having to cut back at work anyway, why not get it done faster? If I can’t reenter the program full-time can I wait until the next occurrence of the part-time program? Would I have to redo the first semester even if I pass it? Would I have to pay for anything if I step back for a little while or would you guys hold onto the money I already gave you? How does all of this work? Am I fucked and I have to do next semester even though in any other situation I’m sure this would be a “qualifying life event”?

Why are all of these systems so fucking broken? Why are half of my worries even fucking worries? I’m worried about not dying and who will take care of my cats if I do. I shouldn’t have to worry about approval for the surgery and how fucked am I if I don’t keep trucking along at school.

And yet, here I am, having to figure all of it out because that’s how our systems work. I have to have approval to live.

I still need to cook meals for the week. I still haven’t put my clothes away from this past Monday. I haven’t touched schoolwork in a week, which luckily, it’s been the holiday break so there wasn’t really anything major to worry about. Still… I was hoping to use this week to get ahead for the final exam. Totally did not go how I thought it would and I can’t bring myself to care. I’ll figure it out somehow, just like I’m having to figure everything else out.

For now, I’m going to go and cook since I’m hungry and after that, I’m going to cross stitch because fuck it. It’s my only day off. The only day I haven’t had to call people and tell them, “Hey, funny story… I promise it’s really not that bad, but really I’m trying to convince myself of that, too, so hopefully, you believe me because I don’t have any energy left to convince myself.”

All of my problems and questions will still be there, waiting for me, regardless if I cross-stitch or not, so I’m going to because I want to feel like I did at least one thing for myself this whole week.

Fuck you, Cancer Kevin. You’re an asshole.

Daily Post 166: Decent Start

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Today is off to a decent start. Better than the previous days. I’m recovering from the Mother’s Day blues. Most likely because I finally cried about it yesterday. Not only cried but screamed. I was in my car driving home from work. I had gone in to train our new tech on how to mix acid for the clinic. It went smoothly. She’s fully trained so I’m no longer the only person able to get the task done which is nice since it’s now a weekly chore that needs to get done. At some point, I need to train our new RN. Hopefully, that gets done in the next week or so.

But, yeah. I slept in a bit since I didn’t have to open the clinic. I went down, did my thing. Had a few donuts since one of the patients brought in fresh bakery baked donuts for the team. Did some microlearning videos during the points where all I could really do was sit around and wait. Got all of the techs skills checked off, then got in my car and still felt sort of crappy.

There’s been a lot going on lately. We might be getting custody of Ornery Ox. I got my official acceptance letter for the LPN program which starts at the end of August. There’s a bunch of stuff I need to get done with that in regards to financial aid, orientation, and books before class begins. I still need to get my second TB test done. There’s a new initiative at work for a PCT Advisory Committee which my FA and I talked about. I applied for it. I still have my leadership class going on. I’m still struggling with the whole health and working out thing more than not. There’s the heaviness of Mother’s Day. And the weather sucks again. It’s cold, rainy, and cloudy.

I’ve felt heavy most of this week. It’s been hard to get out of bed. I know I need to do things, but nothing is a legit need so it’s easier to not do a whole lot. Yesterday was the day it all sort of came to the surface and I was able to let go of some of that heaviness.

I cried. I screamed as I drove home. Not as loud or as long as I have in the past, but it still felt good to do. Or maybe a more accurate way of saying it is I felt better afterward for having done it. Cleaner. Less heavy. Flatline and mildly empty, but being flatline means I’m no longer below ground. I’m on solid ground. I’m baseline again with the chance, not guarantee, to go somewhere other than downhill again.

So here we are at today. I woke up at 3 am with Ox since he had work. I haven’t had work at all this week so far. I’ll be doing the next three days, but I’m ok with that since two of the days will be relatively short days. It’s been nice having such an extended time off. It’s actually worked out to where I’ve had more solitude than normal during these days off as well. I think that’s been helping.

My desk is still a bit of a mess but I’ve made it through all of my “in” pile that had built up. I’ve updated my calendar. I set up meetings with the deans to talk about my experience with the Human Anatomy class. That happens later today, hopefully after lunch with Ox if he gets off work early enough. It’s something I’m looking forward to so I hope it happens.

I’ve also been talking to one of Ox’s exes. He knows about it. I’ve written to her. We were supposed to meet this morning for breakfast but plans got canceled. I can’t say I’m super heartbroken over it since it means I have time to write and do laundry and shower and maybe go to the gym. It frees up a lot of time on this last day off and so I can appreciate the positive that is coming from not having to go out right after I have woken up.

My sister is also graduating from high school. I wrote a letter to her. I hope it extends an olive branch and allows us to begin having some sort of relationship. Since my dad and I were never very close after the divorce, my sisters and I have never been very close. I want to change that so I’m trying to.

I won’t know until the end of June if I make it onto the PCT Committee. My FA is extremely supportive of my application to it. It’s something new our region is doing to improve PCT retention and work culture and such for our PCTs. It’s something I feel strongly about and so I really hope it works out that I’m able to be part of it. I don’t really have love or anything for my company. I think of companies as faceless blobs that don’t care about their employees. I do, however, love my team. And I respect the higher management of our region, and as a PCT myself, I care about my fellow PCTs and the struggles they experience by working such a demanding job. I feel like things need to change culture wise to allow for better work/life balance and this is an opportunity to help make that change a reality. I want to make things better, so this is me trying to do that.

In the next month or two, I will also be going to Denver for preceptor training. That’s a two-day event. I guess I should talk to my FA about it again since I don’t remember the specific dates of the trip. I would rather be proactive than reactive in those regards.

I’m not really sure what else to write. I think that’s mostly everything. Jon is doing well with his new job at the hospital. I saw End Game with Ornery Ox and Ox on Sunday. It was an ok movie. I cross-stitched for a bit and listened to my new leadership book, which is only 7 hours this time. We’re working on cleaning out Papa Ox’s computer room so Ornery Ox can have his own room if we do end up with custody.

So I guess I’ll go for now. I might be able to do a class at the gym before lunch. I should be able to get a decent amount of chores done to help with the productiveness of the day. It’s sunny even though it’s still cold. But that’s a step in the right direction. So far, today, in general, is going in the right direction.

Daily Post 165: Moment by Moment

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Today was alright. It’s rainy and dreary. I went into work to help with change over. My FA is back from her week-long meeting in DC. I’m glad to have her back. I think it did benefit the team for her to be out of the facility. We learned to trust each other. We learned how to function without her. At the same time, she learned that she can trust in us, too; that the clinic won’t burn to the ground without her here.

Currently, I’m in a bit of a low mood, though, and I know I am. One of our new patients passed away on Saturday. I didn’t know her well, but it still sucks. It still makes my body and heart ache with shared sorrow. She had a family. She had a life outside of the clinic and her absence is going to be felt by many people, just like mom’s was and continues to be.

It leaves me feeling… something which there aren’t words to express. Shared sorrow is the best I can do and like so many times before in my writing, it doesn’t feel like enough. Those words do not express the depth or complexity which are emotions. Maybe nothing ever truly can. Emotions are felt, not explained.

The rest of everything that has happened in my life feels trivial compared to the realness of life and death. Almost like it’s disrespectful to write about how my life continued to go on while her’s ended and yet I couldn’t have stopped my life anymore than the doctors could have kept hers going.

I went to Walmart and got two new skirts and a pair of shorts. I’m in smaller sizes than the last time I bought clothes. I went to the gym and had a good workout.

Sunday I went to my first “family gathering” with Ox. I met his aunts and cousins. For the most part, I spent the three hours sitting on the front porch enjoying the sunlight and breeze while cross stitching which sparked all sorts of comments from the family members. I felt extremely accepted. There was good food and good conversation. It wasn’t the horrific social event I had envisioned in my mind. I wasn’t shamed out of the home for having purple hair or tattoos.

I also had my first run-in with a tornado warning while Ox and I were out shopping after the family get-together. There’s a big difference between practicing a drill and real-life camping out in a Walmart layaway listening to nature rage around you. I made a post on Facebook to let everyone I was fine and that I made it home safe.

Saturday I spent the whole day sick and in bed. I slept about 16 hours and was better for taking it super slow and easy. Ox was amazingly fantastic in caring for me and allowing me to sleep the day and sickness away.

Lil’ Ox and I got to color a bit together Friday night once I got home from work. It’s the first time in a while that we’ve done something together. Ornery Ox even talked to me for a little bit Sunday during the family time. It was nice. I know I haven’t been extremely involved or present with the kids for a while. This weekend was a small step towards correcting that.

The past two weeks have been sort of rough, work-wise. I’ve been working five days. I can only imagine what they would have been like if I were still trying to take the Human Anatomy class. This coming week is most likely going to be more of the same, but next week should be a little lighter.

At the moment I don’t really think there’s much else to say. My heart isn’t in it right now; in writing, I guess. I don’t necessarily hurt, but I ache. One day at a time. One moment at a time. One task at a time. I’m sort of back to that I think.

Friday is my next day off. I think if I can make it to there then I’ll be alright. I know I’ll be ok. I know I’m not not ok right now. I’m just sad and that too is ok. Sometimes life is sad.

Daily Post 159: The Week Of Everything Changing

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Written Sunday, March 10th
Edited Saturday, March 30th

Alright. Here we go.

I’ve known for about 10 minutes now that everything for my entire next week has changed and this is me trying to figure out how to get all of the millions of things I still need to get accomplished accomplished.

The change: The kids are not going back to their mom’s tomorrow. It’s spring break. She told both Lil’ Ox and Ornery Ox that they would not be staying with us this coming week. They would be going home to her. Not so anymore. She contacted Mama Ox and said the kids could stay until Friday evening.

I guess for most people that wouldn’t be a big deal. As an introvert that throws a massive giant wrench into everything in my life. Not just everything. EVERYTHING. Yes. A capital everything.

Right Brain: There’s going to be two additional people in the house to think about, plan around, and interact with. I need more than 24-hour notice for this shit. I need like a month’s worth of advanced notice. At least two-week notice. Two weeks is at least professional. How the hell am I supposed to just magically function when all of the solitude and quiet time I had been looking forward to has just been snatched from me? Blindsided. Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what this is because you told the kids it wasn’t going to happen, but oh look. Now it’s happening. This thing, this situation had a snowball’s chance in hell… I didn’t plan for this because it wasn’t an option. What the fuck? Fuck you, Universe.

Ok… Now that that’s out of my system…

This is where I get to practice Change Mastery from my first leadership book, I suppose. I know my initial internal tension to this situation is purely spurred by a sense of self-preservation and the threat that this change is going to interfere with all of the things I had planned to get done this week. To prove to myself that I can still get everything accomplished I’m going to write out my upcoming days. With a clearer view of my obligations, I’ll be better able to see how to handle my time.

Theoretical Monday: Wake up early for work. Survive work. Make sure to take pictures of patients for Wall of Fame. Potentially stay a bit late to start piecing things together, or work on piecing things together during my breaks. Come home. Put images of patients into .psd files so the pictures can be printed. Create .jpg files of images and put them on a flash drive so I can take them into town with me for printing. Make grocery list. Find a tailor shop that would be willing to do the stitching for the curtains needed for the Wall of Fame. Cook taco skillet for dinner. Go to sleep.

Actual Monday: Mostly successful. Woo.

Theoretical Tuesday: Potentially get curtains created. Go to campus to talk to Financial Aid about my award statement. Get pictures printed. Meet with Ox for lunch. Go to Wells Fargo for Dart account number. Do grocery shopping. Make sure to pick up a black poster board for the Wall of Fame (maybe two to be safe). Come home. Put groceries away. Make sure pictures are in the car so I can take them to work with me. Print out template of film cell of picture borders. Potentially cut borders for pictures from black poster board (might save for Thursday depending on time). Watch CPR class video. Print out certificate of completion to take to class on Thursday. Cook spaghetti for dinner. Go to bed early for work. I think that’s it for this day…

Actual Tuesday: Forgot patient information at work. Drove to Beatrice to retrieve information. Went to Beatrice campus to talk to Financial Aid. Did shopping in Beatrice instead of in Lincoln with Ox. Completed CPR video. No progress on curtain making. Files completed for pictures. Plans to print them at work Wednesday with FA’s printer and picture paper.

Theoretical Wednesday: Go to work. Survive. Potentially mix acid if the tank is low enough. Work on Wall of Fame during breaks. Stay late as needed to finish loose ends. Begin typing up essay for entry submission. Go home. Brisket for dinner (make sure Ox knows cooking instructions). Eat. Go to bed.

Actual Wednesday: Pictures printed. CVC packs made. Worked on pictures at home. No brisket for dinner. Can’t remember what it was changed to.

Theoretical Thursday: If unable to finish CPR video on Tuesday, finish Thursday morning. Go to work if needed to finish Wall of Fame. Come home. Eat early-ish dinner (Mama Ox will be cooking for the family). Go to CPR class. Get recertified like a bawce. Come home. Go to bed.

Actual Thursday: Worked on Wall of Fame stuff for a majority of the day at home. Figured out the curtains myself. Passed CPR class that night.

Theoretical Friday: Go to work. Survive. Potentially mix acid if unable to do so Wednesday. Complete Wall of Fame if needed. Submit entry for Wall of Fame if not already submitted. Go home (blessed silence). Burgers for dinner. Hot chocolate with peppermint Smirnoff as a reward for being a badass.

Actual Friday: Mixed acid. Completed Wall of Fame. Submitted entry.

With how back and forth I’m going to be between Beatrice and Lincoln it doesn’t really make sense to get a hotel room on any of the days the kids are here. Both Ox and Mama Ox have offered to help with the cost of getting rooms since they know I have a hard time sleeping while the kids are here and I have a lot on my plate at the moment. Nothing on my week’s overview accounts for wanting to make progress on my second leadership book. There’s no time allotted for personal time or decompression. No cross-stitching. Just wake up, go, sleep, wake up, go, sleep…

Ox has already explained to the kids that kick out time for the bedroom game systems is 7 pm, so I’ll be able to have a little bit of time “alone”. It might not be a true alone but I’m grateful that the family is pulling together to make sure that everyone is cared for and thought of, including me.

We’ve already sat down as a family, kids included and figured out the meals, which means my next step after this writing is making the shopping list. That was the biggest hurdle this past week; not knowing what to cook for dinners because no one gave me input on what they wanted so grocery shopping didn’t really happen. It was haphazard and sort of sucked for that part of my brain that thrives on structure and plans.

I need to print out or write down the information for my Finacial Aid meeting. I can save that for another day, though. I feel like I have a pretty good idea of what needs to happen and when. There’s more acceptance to the change now that a bit of time has passed. It’s not the awful change my poor little introverted brain thought it would be. Most of the days I’m going to be out of the house, and there’s the evening where I’ll have quiet time to look forward to. I can count on that time. My light at the end of my days.

We’ll see how it goes, but for now, at least I have a battle plan figured out so I can flex and change as life does. Go me. Let’s do this.

I survived the week of the 11th – 16th. I didn’t have a very strong sense of accomplishment when the Wall of Fame was completed. Most likely because my FA ended up helping me because she didn’t think it would get done on time, so things weren’t completed the way I wanted them to be. Quality is in the details, and some of the details were different than what I wanted as the designer. It’s over though. I don’t have to stress over it anymore and the patients love it. I’ve seen a few other entries for our region so I doubt we will win, but I like our wall and I guess in the end that’s all that matters.

I got the clinic to a good place since I had my vacation to Orlando the following week. I didn’t want to leave with things needing to be done and I got all of that accomplished along with the Wall of Fame project. I think I handled the week decently for what I was given.