Daily Post 010: Holiday Rage

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

Dearest Universe,

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

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

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

“Increase your anti-depressant.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

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

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

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

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

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

I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need anything?”

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

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

“Do you need anything?”

“Please don’t die.”

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

And then I find out he has covid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Musing Moments 140: Pre-Consultation Writing

At the moment I’m trying to keep up with my life and figure out my emotions so please bear with me. It’s going to take some time and effort to sort through everything, and it begins with these initial writings.

Written Wednesday, November 27th.

The past few weeks/months have been a bit of a ride, medically speaking. And in true “Jen” fashion, I haven’t been keeping up with writing or checking in with myself, so this is going to be a huge “catch up” post in a relatively short amount of time since I have to leave soon for an appointment.

It started with my yearly checkup for work insurance purposes. My primary care physician thought my thyroid was swollen. She ordered lab work to be done and said even if my levels came back fine, because of my family’s history with thyroid issues, she would like for me to have an ultrasound on my thyroid done.

That took me to an endocrinologist who ordered yet more lab work and got me set up for an ultrasound at one of the hospitals here in Lincoln. I went to the ultrasound alone. In hindsight, that most likely wasn’t the smartest option. At the time I wasn’t worried about it. It was a non-invasive procedure. Nothing to worry about, right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong.

Being in a hospital again, laying down on a table and having medical staff doing things to me brought back all sorts of emotions from when mom was in the hospital. It didn’t matter that it was three years later. It didn’t matter that it was me and not her. It didn’t matter that it was a non-invasive procedure or even that the two hospitals were totally different and that it was a billion degrees outside in Vegas all those years ago while here it was borderline snowing.

None of those facts, none of that information, mattered. All of the hurt and loss and loneliness and vulnerability simmered at the edges of my mind as I checked in for my appointment and only grew the longer I was there, the further my procedure went.

I held my emotional shit together long enough to make it back to the car and to call Ox before completely breaking down. I sobbed into the phone for I don’t know how long, terrified. I was terrified of having to go back to the hospital. I was terrified of having to be ok enough to drive home. I was terrified of losing everything that I had fought for in the three years since mom died. And as stupid as it sounds, I was terrified of losing mom again. I was terrified of being alone and facing all of these intangible things by myself because how do you fight things you can’t see or touch or feel?

I was scared and hurt and alone and the only thing I could do was cry alone in my car, clinging to my phone as if Ox were my life support getting me through the overwhelming crush of my emotional tidal wave.

Eventually, after listening to his voice and talking and lots of crying, I was ok enough to drive home. The only thing there was for me to do at the point was wait to be called with the results of the ultrasound.

The results came back early the next week. There was a nodule on the right side of my thyroid. Since we didn’t know what it was they wanted me to schedule a biopsy. You know… because poking at random, unknown things inside your body with needles is a great idea… said no one ever.

I had the biopsy. I still feel like I got punched in the throat. Ox was there with me for that procedure and I faired better emotionally, most likely because he was there to help keep me grounded and outside of my head.

I got a call Monday evening from my endocrinologist herself. She took the time to call me personally, after hours, to deliver the results of said biopsy.

The nodule is positive for cancer.

Yeah…

You read that sentence correctly.

I have thyroid cancer.

I was blindsided by her statement. I wasn’t expecting cancer. Maybe a benign tumor because my T levels kept coming back fine… but cancer? Fucking cancer…?

Do you realize what this means for me?

Do you realize that I now have to call my brothers and tell them I have cancer only three and a half years after mom died? Do you realize how many people I have to inform, personally, because this isn’t something that I can make a post about on Facebook?

Me: “Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know I have cancer. Oh! And here’s a picture of a cat. K. Bye. : D”

I know mom had thyroid cancer before I was born and was able to take daily medication and still live an extremely full life. I know logically that as far as bad news goes, getting thyroid cancer is pretty much the best bad news you can get.

That hasn’t stopped me from having nightmares about it. That hasn’t stopped any of the emotional reactions that I’ve had. That hasn’t changed the fact that I realized, finally, why I can’t fight that evil voice in my head when it starts giving me shit and telling me that I’m a failure.

I know I’m not a failure. I doing well in nursing school. I’m doing well at work. I’m still making ends meet, if just bearly, financially. But when it started saying “You’re a failure,” shortly after having to schedule the biopsy, I couldn’t figure out why it felt true. I know it’s not true, so why does it feel that way?

I realized it’s because unconsciously one of my biggest goals since mom died has been to be healthy enough, stable enough, for my brothers to not have to worry about me. Looking at it objectively, that’s a fairly unrealistic goal. Regardless of it being realistic or not, it was my goal and I failed to achieve it, since now I have cancer and all of this medical shit on the horizon, and so I’m a failure.

Right now, I’m waiting to go into town with Ox to have my consultation with the surgeon. I’m waiting to figure out where and when I will have part of my body removed. I’m waiting to tell everyone in my life what the next steps will be and when.

I’m waiting.

I’m not good at waiting and underneath everything else I have going on in my life is the fact that even though we did everything right with mom, even though we followed all the steps the way we were told, we still lost.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to meet with the surgeon. I don’t want to have surgery. I don’t want to have to figure all of this out and how to pay for it and how to not fuck up shit at work and put more stress on my team.

I don’t want to do this.

Not only do I not want to do this. I don’t want to do it alone. Last night while I was alone for a little bit I started crying as I laid in bed with the kittens. I started talking to mom. I told her I missed her and that I wanted to come home and be with her. I know she went through this exact thing, but I never got to talk to her about it. I don’t know what she felt or experienced. I don’t know what post-surgery was like for her. I never thought of mom as a cancer survivor, but she was. Was she scared when she found out? Did she cry? Did she feel alone? Did she struggle with wondering if she would be less human after the surgery because part of her was missing?

I want her to hold me and to tell me it will be ok.

I know it will be. It will be as ok as it can be, at least. Ox will be there. My dad offered to be there. So many people have been supportive and understanding. Apparently, a lot of people in my life think I’m a badass and that I’ll kick Kevin’s ass. I was told to name my cancer to make it more real, more tangible, then referring to it as “thyroid cancer”.

Sorry for any Kevin’s out there who may take offense to me using your name. It was a random name thrown out there by Mother Earth and so it has stuck.

I don’t feel like a badass. I feel scared and vulnerable and alone all over again and all I can think of is how I’m going to look so much like mom, in a hospital gown, in a hospital bed, completely out of it from the anesthetics… I can’t have my brothers there. I can’t put them through that again. I wasn’t supposed to put them through this. I was supposed to be ok.

I want to say I can’t do this. I want to give up and tell Life that it wins and this joke isn’t funny and I’m ready to go home and not play this shitty game.

I’ve been freaking out over the next semester of nursing school since the third week of this semester. How am I supposed to go through a surgery that’s going to fuck with my hormone levels and leave me tired and still go to school three days a week and work full time and still figure out laundry and dishes and meals and bills… I just want to say fuck it to everything.

I want to hide away under the blankets in my darkened room with the kittens and pretend that the bad things don’t exist and they can’t get me and I’m not hurting the people I love the most.

I don’t want to do this, but I have to. I have to try to be ok because I have too much debt to die now. I have too many people who care about me to not have this surgery. I have too many conversations I want to have with people I love. Too many goals at work that I haven’t reached yet. Too many things Ox and I haven’t done.

I don’t want to do this but I’m going to because fuck Kevin. He doesn’t get to control my life. Fuck you, Kevin. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. I’m angry at you for making me drag everyone in my life through this. This isn’t fair. Three years isn’t long enough. We aren’t recovered enough to go through this all over again. Fuck you, you inconsiderate asshole.

At the same time, thank you. Thank you for not being terminal. Thank you for being treatable. Thank you for not spreading or destroying my entire life. You’re an asshole and I’m still angry at you, but thank you for not being worse than what you are.

Please be with me, mom. Please don’t let me go through this without you. I love you. I miss you. I need you. Please help me, mom. Please be here with me so I can do this.

Daily Post 180: A Small Catch-Up

Thursday ended up being a smooth day at work. I was on the floor with my FA. Pretty much all of my tasks were caught up. We’ve agreed to work through some of the supplies in the stock room to free up space. That makes the weird organization-junkie part of my brain happy. I can’t wait to have that space back. /happy dance

We got to talk about how I was doing with school and the work schedule. I said that working three days has been do-able so far, but this coming week I’m working four days and I’m worried about it. I said I would prefer to only do three while I’m in school.

I’m thinking about talking to the other tech and seeing if she would be interested in letting me work on Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Yes. Every Saturday. Last week seemed to work well schedule-wise. I had days off right after class to sit and study and do assignments. I didn’t have to wait so long in between because of work. It would let me do Adventure’s League on Wednesdays without worrying about rushing to get there or having to leave early because of work the next day. Every Thursday I could do the kickboxing class.

There’s a lot of pros to counter the one “always working Saturday” drawback. My FA said to think long and hard about it before offering something like that to the other tech. She said once I give up Saturdays I’m most likely never getting them back.

As sad as it is to say, I don’t remember a whole lot else about Thursday. Ox and I did our Darebee. I took my laundry over and got that going. I ate dinner…

Oh! There was sexy time. Sort of feel like a jerk for forgetting that… -_-;

The main thing I remember about Thursday was the fact that I didn’t have to go back to work on Friday.

I didn’t see Ox Friday morning. It’s the first morning in a while where we haven’t seen each other off to work. I forgot to set my alarm and he was running behind by the time he called and woke me up. When woke back up, I spent pretty much the rest of the morning in a low-grade depression. I was able to get stuff done, but I was tired and sad and everything took more effort than it should have. Everything was borderline painful. I felt emotionally fragile and raw. I knew there would be tears eventually, I just didn’t know when.

Eventually, I drove into town to have lunch with Ox. We put gas in both cars while we were there. He asked how I was doing and I told him that I hurt but that I was still doing things and not letting the hurt win. I said I didn’t know why I felt the way I did but that I was sad and I was trying really hard. We talked about my feelings for a little while.

A lot has happened in a short period of time. I started nursing school. I graduated from DSS. I passed my first nursing test… All of those things poke at my wound and I haven’t been doing a whole lot in the “tending to my grief” department. I think Friday was the first day since my nursing test where I didn’t have obligations spurring me to keep going. I could take the time to let the emotions have their time, to truly feel them, accept them, and let them go.

Ox and I ended up having a pretty awesome lunch at Village Inn. We meal planned out the next week, which is going to suck. I still need to see if someone is interested in taking my C2 shift or splitting it with me. I don’t want to do four in a row. >.<;

After lunch, we went across the parking lot to Super Saver’s to do the grocery shopping then we went home. By then the kids were at the house so I didn’t stay very long. I came back to the apartment to put the food away and to keep studying. Eventually, I went to sleep.

One thing I don’t think I’ve mentioned… Ox got me an iHome for the apartment. Or rather, he found one and brought it home to see if it still worked. It does. I’ve been using it to play thunderstorm sounds while I sleep or the radio while I’m gone so the kittens have something to listen to other than silence. I like it. You can even dim the display so it’s not blindly bright the whole night.

So yeah, Friday was a good day. A connective day even if it was slow and rough to get started.

Today has been decent but also a little rough.

I woke up fairly early and was able to start in on my to-do list. I typed up recipes. I edited the to-do sheets I’ve been using. I really like them. I’m glad I’ve put them back into my routine. One thing I added was a gratitude line.

It’s something I got the idea for in class on Tuesday. We had to do an evaluation of our strengths and weaknesses. Areas I am weak in include hope, gratitude, and perseverance. Ouch… but at the same time… not wrong. …

With my grief, sometimes things do feel hopeless and pointless and sometimes I don’t have much will to persevere. What’s the point in persevering when everything is pointless? And what is there to be hopeful or grateful about when everyone is going to die?

Yeah… some pretty fucked up mentalities right there…

So I’m working on that. From now on, each day I have to write one thing I am grateful for. One thing that I can think about or look at throughout the day to remind me that there are things that I appreciate about my life. Today’s gratitude was for Ox and his love.

Around 7:20 I pulled myself away from my to-do to shower. The kittens has a vet visit at 8 that I needed to be ready for. They were supposed to get their first round of vaccinations today. Lil’ Ox was up bright and early to go with Ox and me. She’s totally enchanted with how tiny the kittens are.

We found out Dagger is actually a boy.

We also found out Saber has lost weight. I explained how for a little bit it didn’t seem like she was eating well so we switched her back to wet food only. The vet said there were sores in her mouth and that she was concerned about feline leukemia and feline aids. She said the test wouldn’t take very long if I was ok with them drawing a blood sample from Saber.

I said ok. They took her from the room and I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited…

Dagger, Lil’ Ox, and Ox were in the room with me but all I could think about was what if the tests came back positive? What if the kindest choice would be to stop Saber’s suffering now? What about Dagger being alone? What about me and my abandonment issues and all of the fear I feel about forming attachments because living things die?

It sucked. Hardcore. It was not how the morning was supposed to go. They were both supposed to be healthy kittens getting their first shots. I wasn’t supposed to be facing the possibility of one of them being terminally ill and losing her before I even really got to establish a bond with her; before she even really had a chance to live.

The test came back negative but they weren’t able to get much blood for the test since Saber is still so small. We’re switching her to a different type of wet food; one higher in calories to try to help her gain weight. It’s a softer wet food to boot. I’ve already noticed her eating even more than she was before, which was an improvement to what she was doing after the first vet visit. I’m also going to be adding kitten formula to her food at the vet’s recommendation.

She’s nearly half a pound behind Dagger in weight. That doesn’t seem like much until you hold both of them in your hands and you feel how fragile and weak she seems in comparison to Dagger. The vet said there’s nothing we can do about the sores in her mouth other than feeding her soft food, which we’re doing. Hopefully, they’re in the process of healing. The vet said it could have been from their mother sort of disowning them and switching to solid food too soon.

At the moment all I can do is keep an eye on her and take her back if I feel like things aren’t getting better. She seems to be doing ok. Still super cuddly. Still purrs and snuggles up with me and Dagger for nap time. Just sort of a shitty start to the morning.

Once we were done with the vet I took the kittens to the house so Papa Ox could spend some time with them. After a little bit, I took them back to the apartment. I plucked away at chores a bit more before going back to the house for breakfast.

I tried baking a keto blueberry cheesecake recipe I found, but it didn’t go well. That was pretty disappointing. Oh well. You win some you lose some. I cross-stitched for a couple of episodes of Black Clover. I came back to the apartment and napped. I got up and studied for my test tomorrow. I ran to the gas station and got a few Bangs since I’m out. Swung by the house to see Ox one last time tonight and to get my sheet from the dryer because oh yeah, I woke up to cat yak in bed this morning. Very not cool…

It was Ornery Ox’s birthday today along with at least two other family members that I know of. They all went to do birthday stuff. I don’t feel bad about not going. I enjoyed my silent time napping and studying. I cooked chicken fajitas in my Ninja. They turned out alright. Not amazing so I most likely will try a different recipe next time, but I’ll be able to get through this week’s lunches without suffering too much.

There’s one more recipe I want to make for the coming week, but I’m most likely going to save it for tomorrow. It’s already getting pretty late and I’m tired again.

Tomorrow should be an alright day. I’m looking forward to breakfast and a cup of coffee and relaxing before taking my test and starting on the next chapter. I’m finding a routine and I think I like it.

MUSING MOMENTS 124: LFTIO – Character Vs. Coping

DSS Leadership – Assignment 3
Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”

Coping

Particularly in times of stress, which of these qualities of Coping are more prevalent for you?

Fear: In extremely stressful situations there is usually an internal sense of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of not being good enough, fast enough, smart enough. Fear of people thinking less of me or my character. Fear of damaging my honor. Fear of the people I care about not being there for me. Fear of being alone. Fear of experiencing grief all over again. Fear of loss.

Control: Control is another quality I turn to in order to cope with stress. If I control things I have a better idea of what’s going to happen. I have a better idea of the outcome and the obstacles that will arise and how to handle them. With control, I don’t have to worry about something not getting done, or being done incorrectly, or to a subpar standard. With control, I take most of the unknown out of a situation which gives me a sense of security in an otherwise insecure time.

Safety/Security: Both safety and security become more important to me during stressful situations. I want to know I’ll be ok and I want to know how I’ll be ok. I don’t want just nebulous pretty words and phrases. “Oh, it will turn out fine. You’ll see.” No. No it won’t. How will it turn out fine? I want a solid, detailed to-do list with bullet points and cliff notes ensuring that there are no hidden potholes for me to stumble into on my path towards “ok-ness” or error recovery. I want to know exactly how things will be fine or better or ok.

I want to know I can contact the people I want to contact. I want to know everything will be where I left it. When situations begin to turn stressful or unfamiliar, unclear, unsure, there’s an increased want for things to be the same and familiar. No more unknowns. I’m already dealing with unknowns. I want to know I’ll make it home and everyone will be there and that I can have a hug and that even if it was a horrifically horrible day that everything is alright because I can count on something, anything, being normal and stable; like a light at the end of the tunnel. There needs to be some small measure of consistency that I can count on.

Winning at all costs: My drive to win can come to the surface sometimes. This can come out in the form of speeding if I’m running late which is essentially breaking the law when you get down to it. Staying up late to finish a project before a deadline at the expense of not getting enough sleep and suffering for it the next day. Clocking out at work yet staying to finish highlighting flowsheets because I refuse to let time win or prevent me from starting the morning the way I want to. A lot of the things I can think of for “winning at all costs” involve self-sacrifice. I would never be ok with “winning” by being underhanded to or with someone. That would make it a hollow victory and lower the standards I hold myself to. If you have to cheat someone else to win then it’s not winning. It’s dishonest and wrong.

Distraction: When my emotional pain and grief are particularly strong, distraction can become a coping mechanism. In those instances taking something like Benadryl or drinking alcohol so I can sleep have happened. Distracting myself, more accurately, removing myself, from the situation provoking my grief is my way of coping. It happens less than it did in the beginning, but that does not excuse the times it still occurs or when the thought to do so enters my mind. Distracting myself from the situation does not address the underlying emotional discord. It doesn’t fix anything, only prolongs the emotional anguish I am trying to avoid. Avoidance is not honorable. While for a majority of the past two years I have chosen to be brave rather than be a coward, I won’t deny the fact that being brave is hard and that sometimes I still feel like a small child on the inside that doesn’t want to face the monsters. Sometimes it feels easier to hide from them, the monsters, the problems, the emotions, and to pretend they aren’t there.

Overwhelmed by Circumstances: Being overwhelmed is something I contend with as an introvert. If change over at work is extremely rough I can feel myself fraying towards the end. Each additional request from a patient takes more and more from my already tapped out resources. I can become short. I can feel myself shutting down and grasping at the thought of “as soon as this person is on I can go to break and it will all be ok”. Or when I am at home and I cannot get the space and solitude I want, I can begin to feel trapped and confined. I need to work on not shutting down when I feel overwhelmed. If I shut down then communication breaks down and there is a greater chance of conflict or additional stressors being created.

What is going on during those times? Inside you? Outside you?

When situations are stressful externally, there is usually a lot of people involved or a lot of input I am having to process through. The trip to Devor for Academy was a stressful situation for me. I have PTSD with flights which I had to contend with. I had to share a room with someone I didn’t know. I had to participate in group activities with people I didn’t know. I had to be in a room with 600 other people I didn’t know for not one, but two days. Distraction was implemented in the form of smoking more than what I normally would have at home. It gave me a reason to go outside and be away from the majority of the people.

There is physical tension in my body. Mostly my shoulders and upper chest. I tend to be more guarded and less open to additional external stimulation. I strive to resolve situations so there’s less input to worry about. I can be controlling because if I’m in control I know what will or will not get done and when. I have an issue asking for help because I don’t want to be seen as weak or deal with others who may have a negative attitude in regards to being asked to do something. This can backfire however and lead to people feeling excluded or thought of as inadequate since I did not request their assistance. They could have made the situation easier but I denied them the chance to help and feel useful and needed.

When a situation is emotionally stressful there is usually pain and feelings of coldness. I feel small and alone even if I’m surrounded by people. Feeling safe and like I belong become extremely important to me. I need to know I matter and that I’ll be ok. Certain dates are stressful for me. Certain topics are stressful for me. Admitting or consciously accepting certain things can be stressful for me. Certain situations can bring emotions to the surface as well. All of these emotional triggers, both known and unknown, and invoke feelings of isolation which as paradoxical as it may sound, cause me to withdraw.

How do you feel? What do you notice in your body? What do you notice in your relationships?

I feel overwhelmed. I feel fear. I feel insecurity. I feel hopelessness. I feel determination and a burning drive to prove Life wrong and that I will win no matter what it throws at me because I refuse to be defeated. I feel injustice and frustration. I feel anger and exasperation and tiredness and burnout.

Physically, I feel muscle fatigue and headaches. I become lethargic and apathetic.

In my relationships, I notice I pull away and close myself off because I do not want my negativity to affect others. I feel I am seen as a person people can turn to. It can be off-putting for them to realize that I don’t always have my shit together. I have learned who to turn to during these stressful times and who not to. I am getting better about admitting when I need help and when something is stressful to me and understanding why it is stressful in the first place.

What fears, limitations, inadequacies, or beliefs arise when you are in a Coping pattern?

I am not good enough. Everything is pointless. It doesn’t matter. My feelings don’t matter. My struggle doesn’t matter. I should give up. I won’t be able to achieve what I’m trying to do. No one cares. I’m alone. I don’t make a difference. I can’t change things. Nothing will change.

Character

Which of these Character qualities are more prevalent for you?

Serving Others: This is important to me. It permeates through almost every aspect of my life.

At home, I actively do chores before being asked to do them because I know if I do something that needs to be done, someone else doesn’t have to do it or worry about it later.

At work, I take on every task I am able to as a PCT because I know there are things I am unable to do as a PCT. I can’t draw or give meds. I can’t assess patients. I can’t chart. I can’t put in new orders or change existing ones. I can, however, spin and pack labs. I can generate for the coming day. I can test machines and enter the values into the computer. I can clean stations and unpack shipments when they come in. All of these actions are able to be done by anyone, but since they are some of the few things which fall within the narrow scope of practice I am allowed to work in, I strive to make sure I am the one to do them, not others who have other tasks which need to be done which I cannot help with.

At the dojo, I help keep the younger members focused and on task. If sensei is busy training with other students and I am in the back doing bag work, I can help correct improper forms. I can remind students that while roundhouse kicks are fun and cool, sensei wanted them to practice their hooks and it’s disrespectful to stand around chatting or doing other things. We’re at the dojo to be focused and to learn. I am serving not only sensei by allowing him to be elsewhere within the dojo, but I am also serving the younger students by teaching them self-discipline, respect, focus, and accountability.

Purpose: I feel purpose can be synonymous with intention. Everything I do usually has a purpose. Even the act of doing “nothing” serves the purpose of allowing myself to relax and decompress and regroup so I am better able to handle future situations. Everything I do has an intention and I feel that’s important. Why do something, anything, if there is no reason to be doing it?

Inclusion: This is another driving factor for me. I want others to be and feel involved. I want them to feel like they matter, that their effort meant something and was not only noticed but appreciated.

Anything from putting the dishes away or baking muffins to surviving a hellish change over at work. Communication plays a huge roll in a task’s success and progress. Communication helps ensure everyone involved understands what the end goal is and how they make the end goal happen. Taking the time to communicate to my team members “If you are ok with taking care of these things, I can take care of these things,” allows us to have a solid understanding of how to handle individual and collective situations, which moves us closer to the end goal of ensuring we provided caring, safe, and timely treatments for all of our patients.

“If you help me unload the dishwasher and put the clothes away, we’ll be able to play games sooner,” lets the kids know that if they help with chores, there’s a positive outcome for their time and effort. They know what their part in the process will be, and they know what we’re working towards. I give them the option to be part of it and it is up to them to make the conscious decision to be part of that process or not. Inclusion to me, is an option, a compromise, not a demand.

Tolerance/Openness: Tolerance is something I try extremely hard to practice. I try to be understanding and tolerant of others because I know there’s a lot behind the scenes that I may not be aware of. Past experiences, discord in personal relationships, internal struggles with emotions or negative thoughts… We all have our own stories and baggage. Just because I get what I view as crummy service from a server at a restaurant, does not mean I should immediately pass judgment as “they’re a crummy server.” Just because a patient is snippy with me does not mean they are a jerk and intentionally trying to make my day harder. Events and situations merely are. They exist. It is our own perspectives and emotions which have us color these situations in hues of good or bad. Being tolerant, patient, and open to the fact that my perspective and hue may be different or even incorrect I feel is vital to finding harmony and understanding of true intentions.

Wisdom: There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge is having facts or ideas through actions such as studying, researching, observing, or experiencing. Wisdom is the ability to use knowledge to understand what is right or applicable to a situation.

Knowledge is passive. Wisdom is active. I try to be wise in my choices. I try to gather as much information about a situation before using my knowledge to make what I feel at the time is the best choice. I willing share that wisdom with others who seek it or who seem like they would benefit from understanding my perspective and experiences.

Humility: I try to remain humble through all of my successes. Firstly, I did not reach success by myself. Even if it is merely the emotionally supportive statement of “I believe in you,” that support played a role in my endeavor. Success does not make me better than any other human. We all struggle. We all strive. We all breathe, and in the end, we all die. Humility is my reminder that we are all mortal and therefore, all the same. I treat others how I want to be treated; with respect, honor, and dignity, regardless of what I have or have not done with my life.

Presence: I enjoy being present. I enjoy experiencing life, and maybe enjoy isn’t quite the right word. While I did and still do enjoy many aspects of my schooling, career and personal life, I did not “enjoy” the abusive relationships I was in. I did not “enjoy” my parents’ divorce. I did not “enjoy” my mother’s hospitalization or her resulting death.

I am, however, grateful for the lessons those situations taught me. By being present and confronting those situations, rather than shying away from and avoiding them, I was able to grow as a person. I was able to transcend the narrow-minded thoughts and perspectives that I had at the time and to truly empathize with what others go through during those situations.

By choosing to be present and to fully experience my own emotions and thoughts rather than distracting myself from the inner and outer work which needed to get done, I was able to find peace within myself, in my relationships, and with my place in the world.

I try to take that mentality into every situation I enter. If I am with another person, I will not actively play with my phone, texting other people. If I need to make a phone call or receive one during our time together, I ask if they would mind rather than off-handedly saying, “Give me a second. I need to take this.”

If I am taking care of a patient, I will not think of the 8 million chores I need to do once I am home. The chores will remain undone because I have yet to meet the elusive Chore Fairy that my mom constantly mentioned. While I am with my patients, the only thing that matters is making sure they are cared for; that I listen to them and legitimately hear what they are saying. What matters is that I am present with them because this is the only moment I will get with them. I can’t go back and redo the moment later.

The same is true for every interaction with every person in my life. Life isn’t a video game. There’s no saved file to reload. No checkpoint to return to. No undo option to set the situation back to the beginning. Life can’t be redone. There is only ever this moment and I want to experience it, understand it, and be part of it.

What is going on when these Character qualities are present?

When I am at my best self, things are usually going “right”. I typically feel like all areas of my life are figured out and fairly balanced. No one area is receiving more undue attention than the others. Everything is in accordance with how it feels it should be. I feel like my energy is going to the “right” places and that my causes and projects are honorable and worthwhile.

I have a clear understanding of what is supposed to happen in a given situation. I have minimal external and internal conflicts demanding my energy or focus to resolve. I’m not sick. I’m not tired. I’m not overly stressed or burnt-out. I don’t have an endless to-do list looming over me with the thoughts of “how in the world am I supposed to get all of this done?”, yet even if I do, the tasks seem manageable because I understand how it will all get taken care of. Not many things are nebulous. There are solid time frames and quantitative progress is made at a rate which feels fulfilling and rewarding.

How do you feel?

I usually feel good. Energized. Motivated. Upbeat. I want to do things. I want to make progress. I want to get out of bed. I very rarely have to convince myself to do things or that it’s worthwhile. The situation on its own feels worthwhile. I don’t have to use mind games or tricks or reward systems to get things done. The completion of something on its own is reward enough to give me the drive to see something to completion.

How can you continue to lead from Character in more situations?

I suppose now that I am more aware of why situations are stressful and how I tend to respond to that stress, I can try self-correcting more. When I begin to feel overwhelmed or when I begin withdrawing into myself, I can pause for a moment and breathe through the tension. I can make the conscious choice of how I want to continue forward in the situation. Do I want to merely cope through it, or do I want to actively practice what really matters to me?

What is more important, my sense of self-preservation and getting to my break as quickly as possible so I can have a few minutes alone, or being fully present and realizing that even though there might be a lot of stuff going on, there is still a moment to experience and if I shut down I might miss out on something I’ll never be able to get back?

Daily Post 121: My First Pregnancy Scare

There have been a few developments.

My training was canceled today since my trainer had something come up. Since I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and have to reschedule my training on that day, too, I’m not sure if I’ll actually get to see my trainer this week. At the moment I’m not terribly worried about it since I’ve been getting to the gym on my own. I feel like I’ll still make decent progress for my next weigh in.

Since today was my day off, I have spent part of my morning being an adult and working on tasks which should be on a to-do list but I haven’t taken the time to actually write one out.

The first thing I did was look into my medical records from Florida. I wasn’t sure when my last pap was done. During my appointment two weeks ago my doctor asked me to have my records sent up to them so if a pap needed to be done we could add it to my appointment this Thursday. Well… I didn’t get my records transferred, but I did figure out my patient login information for the clinic where my obgyn was at. I guess I’m due for one. Yay… said no women ever…

I tried calling my doctor to let them know the pap needed to be added to my appointment. I’m sure I could have gotten a bitchier receptionist, but it would have been a struggle to find one. I explained the situation to her, how my doctor had told me to let them know if a pap needed to be added, and that it did so could we do that?

Apparently, no, we can’t since placing an IUD and a pap are two totally separate procedures which can’t be done at the same time. I don’t know why not, but, I thanked the unnecessarily bitchy receptionist for her time and said I would call back at a later date to figure out the pap since I wasn’t sure what my schedule was like for the next few weeks.

I’m hoping when I go in for my appointment on Thursday and explain to my doctor what happened that she’ll be able to work something out. I really don’t want to have to add “go back to the doctor” onto my to-do list. I’m sort of tired of going there and I haven’t even had my second appointment yet.

At least I have that figured out, though, so I can work on getting everything resolved. I plan to print out the medical release form to take in with me on Thursday so they can handle all of that nonsense along with printing out a second copy of my health screening sheet for my work’s insurance. I don’t want to get there to find out they lost the one I had before. I’m NOT going back for a sheet of paper. I’ll boy scout the shit out of this appointment and be prepared for all possible outcomes instead.

Since I got that taken care of as much as I could I moved on to calling the bank to see what’s going on with my car title since I still haven’t heard back from the DMV and it’s been over 15 days since I started that process. Well… according to the amazingly helpful representative I spoke to, the bank hasn’t received anything… Great. You had one job to do, DMV. What the fuck?

The guy was super nice about it and we started that process over the phone. They are going to mail me all of the papers I need. Once I receive the papers I can go to the DMV and get the car inspected and the plates switched over. That’s going to be between 15 and 30 more days. Arg. >.<;

At least I know what I’m waiting on now. I’m planning to go ahead and pay the citation on Friday since that’s payday. My court date was set for the 19th so… yeah… that will be done and over with and all I’ll have to do from that point is wait for the papers. I’ll be as done as I can be for the time being.

I’m picking up part of a shift this Friday at Cap City. That’s after I would have worked a full 12 hours at my own clinic. I’m in the mindset that I need to try to pick up as much extra as I feasibly can to help pay for the CNA class I’m registered for as well as for my future LPN expense. The more I make now, the more I can pay things off or potentially save.

It will be roughly another three or four hours on my check, plus travel time. All of the patients should already be started on their treatments by the time I get to the clinic so it will be a matter of discontinuing treatments, cleaning, and closing the water room, which I’ll be slow with, but I’ve done it in other clinics before so as long as I have the P&P I know I’ll be able to get through it.

I offered to pick up an extra shift on a Thursday at Cap City which would have me out of there between 2 and 3 pm. There are also two Saturdays that I know of where I would be working about the same. 4 am to roughly 3 pm or whenever census hits. If a bunch of patients don’t show up then I might be out earlier. 3 pm at the latest though, so what’s what I plan for.

I get my second installment of the retention bonus this month. That should land next paycheck I believe, or the paycheck after it. That will help. My Concur report for last month’s traveling expenses was approved so that should be deposited into my account within the next few days. Both of those things, the bonus and the report, will help me financially.

I’m trying to reach out to Warren to see about the money he owes me. Even if it were only $100 a month, $25 a week, it would be better than nothing. Any help is help.

I want to make school work for me. It’s possible I could be an RN in as little as two years if I blow through school. I guess I could add that to my to-do list for today… actually applying to the college and shit so I can… I don’t know… maybe actually take the classes I keep talking about…

That might actually be better saved for next week when I have money since right now I have less than $50 in my account and I know they’re going to need “official” transcripts and those are like $15 per… Arg. So lame. I have until mid-October to register so as long as I don’t slack too long I should be alright.

I guess the last thing to write about is the pregnancy scare of last night.

Yep… that totally happened.

So, yesterday was a rough day at work. My back was still sore from whatever I did to it on Saturday. Not as bad, but annoying enough that my patients noticed and commented on it so I had to explain how it hurt and they hoped I felt better. The day itself was hard. We had an RN shadow. A patient almost passed out during that. Another patient broke her ankle a few weeks ago and had a hard time transferring into her chair so my arm was sore from that.

I mean, I know I’ve worked harder days before, but yesterday just sort of sucked. I was mentally and physically done by the time I got home. I crawled into bed and Ox laid down next to me.

Me: I don’t understand why I’m so tired.

Ox: Maybe it’s because you’re pregnant. I mean that would explain why you’ve been so hungry and tired and the mood swings.

I know he meant it as a joke. Logically, I know being hungry has more to do with how much more I’ve been working out. Same goes for the tiredness. But my brain couldn’t process jokes at the time. All I could think of was how I’m getting my birth control replaced because it’s nearing the end of its lifespan and how horribly fucked my life would be if I ended up getting pregnant.

Here I am, about to start classes. I can’t afford to live on my own, much less financially support a child. Everyone in my life would think I was a failure. Ox’s parents would hate me and would think I’m no better than his previous relationships. I would be the white trash chick mooching off of their hard earned income. I’m not even their child and they would be having to help support me because I’m not adult enough to do it on my own. That’s not how grandparenting is supposed to work.

On top of that, what would my brothers think? I would be proving Jon right; that I can’t be trusted to be responsible and make smart choices. My life would be ruined, just when I’m starting to get it figured out, again, after mom’s death, and here I am potentially fucking it all up over something as stupid as unprotected sex.

Oh, and to add salt into this logically improbable wound because it’s not like I’m not going a good enough job on selling the whole “You done fucked up A-Aron” thing… Mom’s dead so it’s not even like I have someone I can call and cry to about it and have her soothe my scrapped knee and tell me things will be alright. No. I’m totally on my own with figuring this shit out. Mom isn’t here to help me or guide me. I have to learn to be a parent alone. Fucking fantastic.

You know what would make this situation better? Crying. Yeah. Crying is totally going to solve everything so I’m going to have a breakdown for the next forever. K. Thx. Bye. : D

1_FedRowGyZBOQwPHI4Xy80g

I cried. A lot. And not the typical “I’m stronger than this and I’m going to try to hold it in even though I really just need to have a good cry” type of cry that I do. No “silent tears” and putting in effort to hold my shit together…

Nope. This was a total “100% zero fucks given, I”m going to cry until I’m done crying” type of cry.

I told Ox it was most likely just from being so tired and that all I needed to go was literally to go to sleep but that’s not what happened. We actually went out and got a pregnancy test. It’s the first one I’ve ever used. It was negative. I took a shower afterward. I had Chinese for dinner instead of my burger and didn’t care about carb count or that I shouldn’t have rice at night. I even had ice cream for dessert because fuck yesterday. When Ox noticed I had ice cream I made a quip about how I resisted the urge to add pickles to it since I have a messed up sense of humor.

My birth control, according to my medical records, doesn’t need to be replaced until the end of November, so it’s not like it’s in the last dying days or anything. There’s also the whole “potentially poly-cystic” thing and being infertile that I was told when I was 23, so realistically, the odds were never in my favor for the test to be positive, though a false negative is more likely to happen than a false positive. Either way, the whole situation last night was totally not how I had envisioned my night going. It led to a lot of very blunt and honest conversation between Ox and me.

Everything I was feeling was because I wouldn’t have been able to handle “my problem”. Getting pregnant, to me, in my head, meant that I had to figure out everything. On my own. Alone.

How was I going to afford a kid? How was I going to figure out where to stay? How was I going to figure out work and babysitting or daycare? How was I going to figure out doctor appointments? How was I going to figure out my life? How was I going to be a parent?

Ox: You wouldn’t be alone. It would be us figuring it out.

Me: I don’t understand “us”.

And I guess that’s the biggest thing I’m learning through this situation and all of the countless others that I’ve had since moving here and starting my relationship with Ox. Ox helps pay for groceries. He helps cook breakfast. He helps switch the laundry. He helps put icy-hot patches on my back.

I’m not alone anymore. There is an “us” and I’m starting to understand what that actually means.

Ox: You know, even if you had been pregnant, we still would have been ok.

We both agree that right now wouldn’t be the best time. I’m still going to my appointment on Thursday and having my birth control replaced. I’m still planning to go to school. I’m still planning to make myself more financially stable than what I currently am. We’re still going to work on completing the addition.

There are no plans to start a family or anything along those lines. But I also don’t think it would be the horrible end of the world that I initially felt it would be.

I talked to Jon about it this morning.

Me: So… This is totally a hypothetical question and I want to assure you that I’m not, but… would you think I’m a failure if I got pregnant?

He said no. He said he would be worried about me. He thinks I would make an extremely good parent, but since I already have a hard time staying here with Ox’s parents rent free, that it would be extremely hard for me to stay there rent-free while also having a child.

I told him my fear of people thinking of me as a failure and that his opinion mattered to me and I didn’t want him to think that I had ruined my life if the test had come back positive.

He agreed that now most likely wouldn’t be the best time, but that no, he wouldn’t think of me as a failure and that he would support me and my decisions. He said family sticks together and he would be there for me.

It made me feel better.

That’s about it on my end. The hot mess express has departed. I’ve put the clothes away. I’ve taken care of some pretty important things. I need to shower so I can get to the gym. I need to stop for gas so I can make it to work tomorrow. I’m most likely not going to SCA practice today even though it’s one of the last times I’ll be able to for a while. With all of the excitement of yesterday evening, I’m pretty ok with just chilling at home and playing video games.

It feels like fall already. We’re past the Summer Solstice and I can feel that in the energy. There was a week of rain recently and since then things have been significantly cooler. It reminds me of what fall felt like in South Carolina. It’s sweater weather. Soon people will start making chili and having cups of hot cocoa. It will get darker sooner. It’s a slow time and I sort of want to indulge in that today. I’ve done my adulting. As much as I can. I’m going to go spend the rest of my day enjoying my day off, all unpregnant like and stuff.

Musing Moments 106: A Letter to My Blacksmith

I was supposed to see my blacksmith tonight.

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

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

Finally, though, tonight, we were supposed to.

And yet we didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m overwhelmed. Mostly with worries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

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

I promise.

Daily Post 002: When You’re An INFJ And You Try to Write A Normal Post…

This is going to be a normal post. No crazy dreams. No life revelations. No anger or depression or anxiety.

Just a normal post about my normal days, which is most likely boring, but right now I’m totally ok with that. I’ve felt a marked difference in myself these past three days since being back in Orlando, and I’m completely content with what I’ve done with my days and the direction I’m headed in.

I had alone time today. Like actual, “the apartment is empty except for me” alone time, and yes, it was as fantastic as it sounds. Like, angels were singing and god rays were shining through the window at the sheer holiness from the act of the apartment door closing behind Warren as he left me in total solitude.

It started last night when Warren asked if he could possibly borrow my car today. He had been communicating with a guy through a subreddit and had a potential interview. Since his truck isn’t all that reliable he wanted to know if he could take my car to make sure he got there and back safely. After talking through the situation I agreed to let him use it.

I’m happy for him. He seems in better spirits, and if he gets the job he’ll be making significantly more, so the chances of me getting paid back increase considerably. There’s also the prospect of him having to move about three hours away for the job, which will alleviate the stress I’ve been feeling over having a roommate.

I feel like I should apologize for my lack of wanting a roommate, but it’s been three days and the trash bag he said he would take out only just now made it’s way to the outside trash. It wouldn’t be hard for me to do it myself, but taking out the trash is one of two chores he agreed to do. The other being to sweep the top landing of the stairs so the hardwood floors don’t look like they’re carpeted due to the dog fur.

I really don’t think it’s wrong of me to stick to my guns and want those two things taken care of when I’m paying for everything in the apartment and doing the rest of the chores. I also don’t think that’s being too much of a neat freak. It’s trash. Take it outside the same day the can gets full. The only reason to not do it in my mind is laziness, which is frustrating and something I really don’t have much patience for.

But yeah, maybe all of that will get fixed on its own. I’m hoping this helps Warren with his apathy. Even if it doesn’t work out maybe it will give him the spark he needs to actually do things with his life again. I know the breakup with Amber is still something that weighs heavily on him, but if you don’t like where you’re at in life than being stagnant isn’t going to improve the situation.

Going back to the “being alone” thing. It was amazing. I knew I had missed it, the feeling of being alone. Since Warren’s been working nights he’s asleep most of the day, but it’s not the same as being legitimately alone. Maybe if our situation was different and he had a job where he left the apartment I wouldn’t be as overjoyed by the three hours as I am, but he works from home. The only time he leaves is to grocery shop, and that’s usually while I’m already out of the house doing something. Sometimes he’ll take Bruno to the dog park, but that hasn’t happened in over a month, most likely two.

I wished him well during his interview and told him to drive safely, because Florida drivers suck, and then I sat on the couch for a while simply breathing in the silence, the total lack of “other”. I don’t know how to describe it other than complete stillness. There’s no one else’s energy. There’s a total peace that I value, that I cherish. A peace that I haven’t had in longer than I care to admit.

I got a bunch of stuff taken care of today. I fixed the internet account login finally. Paid that bill, too, since it was coming due. I got my Target card figured out. I applied for one randomly when I was shopping back in December. I never got the card and I honestly forgot about the bill until I got one right before I left for my trip to Ohio saying my payment was due, by the way, it was late so here’s a $30 charge on top of my original purchase…

Me: Um… can I at least get my card so I can log in online to make the payment? No… oh… ok, then…

I decided to not worry about it until I got back from my trip. Most likely not the most responsible adult decision to make, but nothing burned down because of it, at least as far as I know, so I don’t feel all that bad. I called today and had a fantastic representative help me out. The fee is being waived, I’m getting issued a new card, and I paid the original balance so that’s taken care of as well. It was a mostly painless experience and the service was outstanding. Very glad it got taken care of.

I re-dyed my hair since I never got around to doing that before the trip.

I went to Target and bought a bike lock. I left my old one with Zane’s bike since he was using it to get to and from work after our breakup. Not sure if we had a breakup, but I’m going to use that term because the relationship ended and I don’t know another term to use.

I don’t know what he’s doing now and I really don’t care. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of trying to get the old one back. Instead, I went and got a new one, drove home, then biked to the gym where I had an incredible run. I did a solid four-minute interval. I think my longest one ever was five minutes. I still did really good on all of my other intervals and I wasn’t crazy sore after my run. I biked home, no problem. Hooray, progress.

It was great being on the bike again. It’s the first time I’ve been out since Big Bad drove me home from the park. The day was pretty warm. The sun was out. I had my contacts in so I looked spiffy cool with my sunglasses on.

Right Brain: Yeah… look at me and my bad self.

I still have plans to go either to the dojo or to dance class and then the dojo. I’m not sure which option I’m going to go with yet. I haven’t been to the dance studio since before the Christmas break. It would be nice to go there.

I saw my blacksmith before I left for Ohio. I’m glad I saw him. I’m happy with how our dynamic is developing. I know that’s pretty vague but I’m mostly sure no one wants to read about BDSM stuff and to be honest, I’m still processing through our last session. I guess it doesn’t help that I haven’t had the alone time to really think deeply about it.

Both my blacksmith and Big Bad build me up. They’re positive influences in my life and I’m grateful for both of them. I’m grateful they both are ok with each other and have agreed to not make me choose between them.

I spent the evening with Big Bad Monday. We have plans to see each other Thursday. He offered for me to come over at a later time than usual, which allows me to still make it to the dojo Thursday night, which is another thing that makes me feel warm and cared for when I think of him. He still lets me have my own life and schedule.

Big Bad and I may be going with a group of people to swim with manatees later this month. I really hope that works out. I think we’ll both have a lot of fun if we go. Even if the plans fall through with the group, it might be something we do on our own.

The trip to Ohio had its moments, both good and bad. There were two spats with my step mother. There wasn’t a lot of one on one bonding time with anyone, but I did get to spend a bit of time with my dad. Jon, Dad, and I were able to spend some time with just the three of us. I got to see both my grandmothers. I got to see other family members since it ended up turning into a family reunion sort of a thing. Not what I had originally wanted, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I got to spend some time with my half sisters, and even though we didn’t spend time alone, I think the time we did have gave us a foundation to move forward with.

Since I didn’t get to talk to anyone privately I plan to make mini podcasts for each of them, telling them the things I wish I had been able to say before I left for the airport. I’m not sure how the podcasts will be received, but, since mom’s death, I’ve taken to telling people how I truly feel because I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to say the words I want to. All we have for sure is right now. If we wait to say things we might never be able to say them.

So yeah, I need to get the ball rolling on that before too much time has passed.

I applied for a tutoring position at a local college last night. I ended up remaking my resume, again… The last one I made is geared heavily towards a computer animation position rather than a teaching position. As such I have the layout mimicking a D&D character sheet. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it, but I figured it wouldn’t go over so well with the HR department of the school I was applying at.

I like the changes to the layout I made. It’s pretty clean, pretty professional. I’m sure changes could be made, but design-wise I’m pretty content with it. I think I sold myself pretty well, too. We’ll have to wait and see if anything comes of it. I’m hoping so. It’s a part-time job, but with it, I could start looking at working my way into an adjunct professor position, or even see about taking additional classes because I would be staff. It’s something I would ask about in the interview if I get one. Forever a student.

I was proud of myself for unpacking almost as soon as I got home. Even did a load of laundry and had everything dried before I went over to Big Bad’s place. I still need to put the clothes away, but with everything else I’ve been staying on top of I think I’m doing pretty alright in the “adulting” department. At least good enough that I don’t feel like a slacker… yet…

I went grocery shopping Tuesday morning after leaving Big Bad’s. I look forward to the mornings with him almost as much as everything else. I enjoy our cups of coffee together and I enjoy seeing him dressed for work and wishing him a good day as we both leave to go about our lives.

That’s one of the things my blacksmith and I talked about while we were together, the dynamic between Big Bad and myself. My blacksmith asked me if Big Bad is “the One”. I told him I didn’t know. That I was scared to think about things like that. Even typing about it now makes my heart quicken and my breathing become shallow. Not from excitement and joy, but from fear, which I know is sorrowful.

When I think about a relationship I think about Zane and the betrayal I felt when I found out he had brought another girl home while I was taking care of mom. I remember how he said it felt like I was abandoning him. I remember the anger and stress and loneliness I felt before everything with mom started. How before life changed I had already felt like our relationship was dying. I remember him not wanting to give me hugs when I got home from work because I was “gross” from biking home even though the only reason I was biking was so he could use my car to get to his job.

All of those negative events, all of those painful emotions and memories… Those are what I associate with relationships. With “boyfriends”. Zane isn’t the only negative experience, but he’s the most recent.

I know I have deep feelings for Big Bad. Maybe deeper than what he feels for me. I know I don’t want to lose him. I want to spar with him and show him the things I’m learning at the dojo. I want to play Soul Calibur with him. I enjoy the sex and BDSM sessions we have together, and honestly, I want to use terms like mind blowing and amazing, but I also don’t want to gush like a girl so we’ll use mildly detached terms like “enjoy” and try to keep it clinical. I love our mornings. I love the cuddles and how he lets me ramble through my stories. I love it when he smiles at me.

I love, and while I’m sitting here on my own, typing at the computer I’m ok with loving. I don’t feel vulnerable admitting it on this page even though it’s going to go onto the internet and be posted for everyone to see.

I’m not sitting in front of someone being asked, “Is he the One?” And having to admit that, yeah, most likely he is. Yes, I love him and I really don’t see myself with anyone else.

It’s funny how I can be nude, restrained, blindfolded and gagged and feel completely safe, but sitting fully clothed in front of someone being asked a simple question makes me feel as if I’m more vulnerable, weak, and exposed than I have ever been in my life.

I keep thinking about that whole, “say what you want to say,” thing. There’s a lot of things I want to say to Big Bad. If something were to happen to me, or him, I want him to know the impact he’s had on my life, and I want him to know how I feel. I haven’t worked through the pain of my past and the fear of his rejection to actually say anything. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, I keep catching myself before the words are formed, spoken.

I feel one day the words will slip out. One day it will feel so natural, so right, that I won’t think, I’ll just say, and it won’t be until after that I realize what I’ve done. I don’t know what will happen then. I don’t want anything to change. I like how things are. I want to be honest about how I feel and not have to fight through my past and the wall of fear and anxiety to do it. I’m not looking for marriage or labels. I want to be able to say, “I love you,” and to have it mean exactly that. “I have an intense feeling of deep affection for you.”

love

Love changes things for most people, though. I’m scared of how things could change. And I’m scared of being hurt again by someone I deeply care for.

People say trust issues, but to the person who was hurt it’s self-preservation.

It’s something further to meditate on. Something further to work through.

… So… Yeah…

Going back to the original train of thought since I wasn’t supposed to get into super deep, touchy-feely stuff. : D

The grocery trip was successful. After I made it home I continued with my productivity by completing all of the cooking for the week. I’m trying a new recipe this week.

Egg Roll Bowls.

They’re super tasty so far. I added bean sprouts and I used napa cabbage instead of regular cabbage. Next time I might add mushrooms. I also stuck with soy sauce since 1) I had it, and 2) Publix didn’t have the coconut aminos even though the website said they did. Lame.

Super satisfied with the recipe, though. It will definitely be something I make again. The dinner meal is chili. For breakfast, I’m doing black rice with a fried egg and fish.

So… that’s about it I think. Still waiting to hear about the reservation for the vacation home for the week-long Disney adventure. My bride’s maid dress should be coming in soon. I hope it still fits when it gets here. Jim said it looks like I’ve lost more weight since the last time he’s seen me. First world problems…

I guess this didn’t stay all that normal with the huge, deep, “I love someone,” confession there in the middle, but there you go. That’s what you get for reading an INFJ blog. Now I’m off to figure out the rest of my night… and maybe, possibly put my clothes away…

Musing Moment 098: What Comes After Fear?

Warren and I had a pretty deep conversation before I left for my trip to South Carolina.

It was dark outside. Night had fallen. I had made it through the day, and it had been a good day but at the moment I was sad. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, alone, lost in my thoughts.

He came downstairs and asked if I was ok. I shook my head no. I’ve gotten better about not lying about being ok. Sometimes I’m not, and now, instead of having to call him and admit to not being ok, Warren lives with me and we can have these hard conversations in person. It was part of why he moved to be with me. We both have really hard days and we wanted the “in person” support structure that we couldn’t provide while we lived states away.

I reason I wasn’t ok was because I had another realization. Much like when I realized it’s very likely that I’ll live to the age where I will have known Warren longer than I knew my mom. I had a random thought pop into my head while my mind had been wandering earlier in the day and now that it was dark outside and the day was over, now that I was still and able to think it was eating away at me.

I had the realization that I have faced my biggest fear.

My biggest fear used to be financial instability. Being financially independent was what I had used to mark my entrance into adulthood. There was never a moment where I felt like I had gone through a rite of passage. There was never anything to mark the transition of child to adult for me, so I picked my own and that’s what I chose.

By providing for myself, and in some cases for others, I was an adult. I was self-sufficient. Anything that jeopardized my “adultness” was a bad thing.

Then came the day where I found out about mom’s stroke and all of that changed.

I realized how shallow and trivial my fear of “not having money” was. When faced with the reality that mom could have died my greatest fear changed.

It changed to mom not being there. To her dying and having to face the rest of my life without her. It changed to the thought of losing her.

So… what happens once you have faced your greatest fear and you’re still alive?

Google hasn’t been very helpful with that. I’ve found a lot of Christian / God stuff. A lot of death stuff. A lot of fear stuff.

I haven’t found anything explaining what “should” happen, though. What should I be feeling? And I guess it’s sort of silly to look for things like that. It’s not like the Internet can give me a road map to living my life. I feel whatever it is that I feel. But I don’t know what those feelings are. And I want to know what’s considered “normal”.

My emotions are confusing. Tangled.

I’m angry. Still. I’m angry that I had to face this fear. I’m angry that it was ever a fear. I’m angry that I faced it so soon. I’m angry that mom isn’t here anymore. As much as I’m moving forward with my life I still stumble over silly, trivial things that shouldn’t hurt but make me feel as if my world will shatter all over again.

It doesn’t. My world stays together, somehow. I still make it to the end of each day and each time I survive a “hard day” I’m the smallest ounce stronger for it.

The firsts are always the hardest. Her first birthday where I couldn’t call her. The first trip back to South Carolina and knowing I would never make another trip “home” to see mom. The reminders like the letter about the court date that I got today in the mail.

There’s pain with all of that. Anger and pain. There’s so much of both sometimes that I still scream in my car. I still cry in fury and I still feel weak and helpless because there wasn’t anything I could do to change the situation.

There still isn’t anything I can do to change it. You can’t change death. It’s part of life. This is all part of the cycle and balance and I get that. I want there to be someone, something, to be mad at, though. I want something to be the focus of my rage, and there isn’t.

It’s life. It’s not unfair. The universe isn’t singling me out or punishing me for my wrong-doings. It’s simply life, and sometimes it sucks.

I guess right now, with having the trip “home” so fresh in my mind, with having the letter sitting next to me, those are the two things I feel the most right now. Anger and hurt.

I don’t feel the feeling of loneliness like I used to. I guess that’s a good thing. I don’t feel the soul-crushing, bone-chilling loneliness that made me question how I was going to get through the night. I understand that I’m not alone and that if I really need help or human contact that I can reach out for it. I know that I can keep going because I have kept going. And so I guess there’s confidence underneath everything.

There’s the foundation of knowing I will be ok because I am ok. I didn’t make it to today on my own. I had a lot of people help me through really, really hard days, and I will always be grateful for their help. For their reassurance. For their patience. For the times they took my phone calls and listened to me fall apart and ask unfair questions like, “How do I keep going?” to which there really isn’t an answer to.

My biggest fear was losing mom. So what happens now that she’s not physically here?

What comes after fear?

Am I supposed to have, find, another fear? Was I supposed to have a list? Like a top 10, and so now that number one is gone is number two supposed to get a promotion?

I would say number two would be losing my brothers but to my rational, logical brain that’s a really stupid fear.

Of course I’m going to lose them at some point. We’re all mortal. Everyone dies. Even I will die at some point so what’s the point of fearing it?

Looking at it that way I guess it was really stupid to fear losing mom, too. Maybe that’s something I could go back and tell my younger self. Not to be afraid of life. That everyone is mortal, even mom, and that even when she dies that things will eventually be ok.

I don’t fear car problems. I don’t fear money issues. I don’t fear rejection. I don’t fear injury.

I don’t really “fear” anything at the moment. At least I don’t think I do. Maybe that’s a lack of imagination on my part. Maybe this is a sign of how “not healed” I am. Maybe I’m still in shock or numb over her death, seven months later.

Fear is a response to perceived danger. It’s a survival mechanism which alters our behavior so we don’t die.

If I don’t fear anything does that mean I don’t perceive anything as a threat? Does that mean I’m more likely to do stupid things because I don’t have a sense of self-preservation?

I don’t think so. I have no desire to do things like drink and drive. I have no desire to really drink because I know that will dehydrate me and leave me with a bitch of a headache in the morning. I don’t think I’m being self-destructive and I don’t think I’m being reckless in my “fearless” state. I still make sure there aren’t stupid drivers being thoughtless while I’m biking or crossing an intersection.

I’m not putting myself in harm’s way. At the same time, I’m not wasting energy fearing harm. I’m not fretting over what might, maybe, possibly happen.

It brings me back to the feeling of foundation. It’s like there is a quiet, solid confidence that patiently sits there beneath all of the noise and chaos of the anger and pain. Those emotions are so loud, so volcanic, that most of the time it’s hard to even figure out the why of them.

Why do I feel the anger or sadness? What triggered those emotions within me?

Emotion: Rawr! It doesn’t matter why! Just feel this way because I said so!

Rational Brain: But if you explain why maybe we can find a way to make it better.

Emotion: Screw you! I don’t want to feel better! Rawr!

After the emotion runs its course and I’m left exhausted and spent I become aware of a stillness within myself. I’m normally what amounts to feeling like being face down on the floor because I’ve fallen down, again, but I guess that’s what’s reassuring about it.

The ground is always there. I may fall, stumble, trip, crash and burn in a glorious blaze of fire, but no matter what, whatever trial I’m facing always ends with the ground being there, and me, eventually, standing back up and trying again.

So I guess that’s what is past fear for me. There’s solid ground. There’s myself. My true self. There’s the ground that I keep hitting reminding me who I am. Maybe that’s a depressing thought. The thought of falling, over and over again. The thought of impact and the painful implications. The broken bones and injuries that will need time to heal.

But there’s a consistency there that is comforting to me. The floor. The ground. It’s always there.

I’ve been struggling with the terms grief and grieving. Grief is deep sorrow. That’s the definition Google will pull up. But it’s so much more than that. The word grief seems so hollow, so small. Grief is more than just sorrow and sadness and anger, and that was another realization that I had.

Grief is a process. It’s a period of transformation, and transformation is painful. Excruciating even.

I’m not sure if there’s more for me to find from these realizations. Those are two new truths I feel I have found during this chapter of my life, though. I am grieving, transforming, and no matter what, the ground will be there when I fall.

No matter what fear I face, the fall will end and I will stand back up and things will be ok.

floor

	Warrior Freya on Explore Eidos Solace: The AI B…
	Hadi on Explore Eidos Solace: The AI B…
	Sammi on 002: Fuck Depression
	Warrior Freya on 002: Fuck Depression
	Sammi on 002: Fuck Depression

DSS Leadership – Assignment 3Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”

Coping

Character

DSS Leadership – Assignment 3
Book – “Leadership from the Inside Out”