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The Handkerchief of Hope

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This is the entry I wrote for Writing Battle; my first ever writing competition.
Posted January 17th, 2026, at 9:35pm.

This is for you, Mom. Proof that I kept, and continue to keep, my promise. <3

I sit cross-legged in my computer chair, fortunate enough to have survived the super Saiyan flu of 2026, though my body still has complaints. 

Time Travel. Champion. Handkerchief. 

How poetic, I thought. No redraws necessary. 

Instantly I go to the days of knights and fair maidens. The gallant good sir, off to fight fierce dragons, leaving his lady to await his return. I could see it… Young love, pining away at a window, struggling with fear, worry, doubt; the “what ifs” that grow like thorn-covered vines. Vicious and unforgiving as they scale the castle walls of the mind. 

Oh, and how her mother, the queen possibly, endures alongside her daughter in the unknown. Maybe the queen shares a story of her own handkerchief given in hope of a safe return. The moral being that waiting requires an unsung strength. How sometimes survival is unnoticed, uncelebrated, but heroic nonetheless…

Yet, that was not the end… It evolved, in all places, during my therapy session, not dissimilar to a Pokémon. 

I could bring the story forward. To here. Now. The present day. 

What if… instead of a fair maiden, there is a young girl, her boyfriend enlisted and deployed. What if it was about the crushing uncertainty of never knowing if there will be a “next time,” and it is this fictional girl’s mother harking back to tales of do-gooders. Her soft, steady voice explaining how maidens gave their “favor,” their love, held within a piece of cloth. How it isn’t about the object providing protection, but rather how the object holds meaning, becoming a tangible thing nurturing an abstract concept. Purpose. 

Mmmm. Yes… More solid on the time travel bit… Nice. But also… a tender thread of thought within my own mind quietly asks to be seen. Viktor Frankl and Man’s Search for Meaning. How even in the most horrific, unsurvivable conditions, life can in fact, continue. Persist. Endure.

All one needs is a reason, a purpose, to do so. 

And so… here we are… The thing to which the thread of thought led…

There… has never been room for -my- story. It isn’t nice enough, clean enough, Instagram selfie enough, to be part of most conversations… 

I have blogged… for years… I have “BBs”, blogging buddies. A few of us have exchanged addresses. I went so far as to cross-stitch gifts for some of them. Artwork in fabric made of random colored thread, my love and care made physical. A network of support, watching my story unfold as I wrote it, post by post; day by day. 

It was fun. Connective. Fulfilling. And so I continued to post, unflinchingly authentic in my lived experience. Unapologetic for my existence. 

Then, on April 4th, 2016, my world ended…

My mother died. 

At the age of 27, I found myself standing outside her hospital room, a room we were supposed to be discharged from. We were supposed to go home. I was supposed to be her caretaker… It was going to be different and scary but as long as she was alive we would figure it out… together…  

But that wasn’t my path anymore…

There was no path. There was only holding her hand one last time, now devoid of life, and promising that even though I didn’t know how, that I would keep going. For her. Somehow… Some way… 

I called Dad. Even divorced, he deserved to know. I held myself together as I looked out at the mountains surrounding Las Vegas, and said words I never thought I would ever say as the setting sun shone on devastating truth…

“Mom died.”  

I imagine that moment is what soul shattering feels like.

This… horrific feeling of nothingness… consuming my entire being, eviscerating my heart, as those words left my lips for the first time; speaking an unbearable reality into being. 

Not grief. Not anger. Not rage… 

Just… the absence of everything. Of meaning. Of purpose. Of reason to endure…

And that was my life for what felt like countless eons. 

Then… one random day, months later… a letter arrived…

Words, handwritten on stationery like ye olden days of mīn own lifetime, harking back to when cards meant something…

And with it, a handkerchief…

Mama Spike, one of my BBs, had read my post about Mom’s death…

She wrote in elegant script that she grieved with and for me. How she knew a handkerchief could not fix the agonizing wound in my chest, but it could catch my tears if I let it. It could hold my grief and sorrow. It could be there with me in the moments where I felt alone and lost and screamed in anguish. 

It is a physical, tangible thing that I can place into someone else’s hands, like a memory from the movie Inside Out, and say “This is one reason I didn’t commit suicide.”

So, dear reader, my fellow human, I regret that I have no tales of brave knights and fair maidens within this text. No triumphant hero returning from a harrowing deed to their one true love. 

Instead I have the story of me; a 37-year-old motherless daughter, approaching the decade mark of the death that destroyed me, and yet, somehow, I am still undeniably alive. 

If this is my own story to a “worthless”, priceless, piece of fabric…

I wonder…

How many champions have fallen because they were never able to hold the love of someone who cared for them? 

I… could stay silent, scared to share for fear of being “too much”…

Or… like a Noble Monarch Butterfly… I could set my story free to change the weather of the world in whatever unknown ways it might…

Like Hercules at the Crossroads I stand before Vice and Virtue. Comfort and Truth. 

I draw a deep, steadying breath…

“This is for you, Mom. For every essay you ever proofread. For every time you said ‘I believe in you.’”

…

“YOLO, bitches…” 

And thus, I cast my own handkerchief into the Web, having faith. Purpose.

Keeping the Hearth Lit

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Today is my birthday, and I’m sharing something personal.  

I want to be fully transparent.

I’m not doing great right now. 

I have been out of work since July 31st. I have had seizure-like episodes that we’re still trying to resolve. I have been unable to secure SSDI due to our broken systems and long delays. SNAP benefits were also delayed due to the government shutdown. 

While I am on stage four of the interview process with an incredible opportunity, hope and momentum don’t pay bills. 

Here’s where things stand:
$1,000 past-due credit card payment
$300 past-due for my skin cancer loan payment
$200 past-due car payment
$150 past-due storage unit payment (contains my mom’s China hutch)
$130 upcoming car insurance payment
$45 upcoming phone bill
$20 upcoming for ChatGPT (a tool I use daily to research, plan, and move Hearthlight forward)
$40 for gas to get to therapy and medical appointments
$15 upcoming Spotify (music is how I cope)

Totaling: $1900

For my birthday – and for Christmas – I am asking for help. 

No shame. Just honesty. 

I can’t donate plasma due to my cancer history. I am actively job hunting and interviewing. I am going as fast as I can with government assistance.

I am doing everything I can with the tools and capacity I have. 

If you have even $5 to spare and would like to give me a real, tangible gift this year, I’ve set up a way to help keep my life – and my work – afloat:

Hearthlight Studios
https://gofund.me/5197626a7

If you can’t contribute financially, please know this with absolute sincerity: There is no disappointment. No resentment, no hurt. Life is hard. Sometimes it’s brutal. Birthday wishes and kind words –are– enough. 

This isn’t a plea. This isn’t begging. 

It’s me telling the truth and offering a way to help – if you want to. No pressure. No obligation. No expectations. 

Just one human, speaking truth into the void, and seeing if it echoes kindness back. 

I love you.
Thank you for being in my life.
Thank you for helping me reach a place where I’m truly grateful to be alive for another birthday.

I wouldn’t be here without you. <3

003: The End is Just the Beginning

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Greetings!

I’m happy to report that I am, in fact, still alive. Hooray! 🎉

That said, this post is bittersweet. It’s time to close this chapter—and with it, this blog.

But every ending carries a spark of beginning.

If you’d like to follow where the story goes next, come find me at Hearthlight Studios — the new home of my creative world. There, I’m evolving into a podcaster, author, and full-time human exploring physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health. :3

Thank you for walking with me this far. Your presence, comments, and quiet witnessing have meant more than I can say.

See you on the flip side. Peace out, Girl Scouts. ❤️

001: Cocooning 

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Sort of proof-read.
Also, this is a long post, and talks about surgery. You have been warned. ^^

I am cocooning right now. I don’t know if that’s a word, but I’m going to use it like it is. 

There is so much to catch up on to understand where “here” is for me. 

I don’t know where my last post was; when it was. So I’ll start from where I feel I should. January of last year. 

I had left my previous job as an auto glass technician. I wasn’t being paid enough to survive. Each month Ox had to help me make ends meet. I couldn’t afford health insurance through the business because it was so expensive. I also couldn’t get the information I needed to get into a government program. 

With a chronic condition, I realize just how much of a benefit health insurance is. 

I went through an exploratory program that I saw on Indeed. That was in like… November of 2022. Went through the program. It seemed alright. Did the job shadow and interview. Waited to hear yay or nay, and was given a job offer. So that’s where January of 2023 starts. New job. New team. New orientation and training.

It went well. Survived training. Started doing production work. Kept breathing through the fear of getting fired due to my experience with Nelnet laying me off. I didn’t feel part of the team. I didn’t have loyalty to my new company aside from showing up to work, doing my best, and getting a paycheck to maybe recover from the financial strain of the rental I had been in. 

Fast forward to September of 2023.  I went for a yearly checkup for insurance purposes. While I was there I broke down because my depression was so bad. Like, my doctor almost didn’t let me leave her office. I was put back on Zoloft and given a referral for consoling. I was also given a referral to dermatology for a spot on my check. It might be nothing, but better to get it checked out.

I had my first therapy session in the parking garage at work on my phone. There was a last-minute opening and I took it, but didn’t have enough time to get home to have the remote session on my computer. After ensuring I wasn’t legit driving my car and in a space where I could talk freely, I began the entry evaluation with my maybe new therapist. I wasn’t sure if we would mesh and was aware that I might not see her past the first session.

We got along alright. I disconnected from the session with a second session already scheduled. Headed home like normal and got rearended while I was stopped by someone going 55 mph. My car was totaled. 

About a week later I found out the spot on my cheek was skin cancer. Melanoma. I was being referred to a major hospital about an hour and a half away from me since it was on my face. I would have to have the lesion removed and then have reconstructive surgery which may require a skin graft. 

I got the car thing figured out. The used car market is shit right now where I live. So I ended up getting a 2022 Nissan Kicks. Electric blue with auto start. 

This wasn’t how I wanted to get autostart. I didn’t want a car payment. I didn’t want to have to figure this shit out. My old car wasn’t having issues. It had awesome gas mileage. It was small and comfortable and mine. It was paid off with cheap insurance. 

But alas, keeping my car was not part of the equation. 

For a week Ox dropped me off at work at 3 AM so he could make it to his own job on time. Eventually, I was able to get a rental set up. It was supposed to be some lame 4 door something something something, but when I got to the rental place, they had this awesome blue car in the lot. And it was available to rent. So that’s how I got to drive an electric blue Nissan Kicks around for a while. 

When I got the settlement for my totaled car, I had 3 days to figure out a new car before I started being charged for the rental. Also, cancer surgeries were scheduled for the end of October. I didn’t have time to fuck around with car shit. 

So I took a couple of days off work. Couldn’t find a used car on the first day. Only trucks and SUVs and of course, Mazda 2s are no longer made because why would they be…that night I went through the process of figuring out how much my bank would give me for a car loan. I wasn’t going to find a used car that I would like. If I had to drop money on a car I didn’t want to have had to replace in the first place, I wanted to at least like the new one.  

The next day, armed with a number, I started searching for Nissan dealerships. I found one. They had an electric blue Nissan Kicks. The same thing I was currently driving, which I knew handled well and got fairly good gas mileage. 

I called up the dealership. Asked if they still had it. They did. I put $500 down on it so they wouldn’t sell it. Waited for Ox to get off work. Returned the rental, and then drove roughly an hour to get my new car. 

So that’s the story of the car. The day before I drove up to have the lesion on my face removed I paid the sales tax and was able to scratch off the last “car task” from my to-do list. Now I could focus on cancer… again… 

I was awake for the lesion removal. I have nothing to compare it to. Having to willing sign a piece of paper saying “I agree to have this done” when the last thing you want is for a stranger to come at your face with a scalpel… To have to lay still while a part of your face is cut away…

Pre-op, my diastolic blood pressure didn’t get below 126. For anyone not medical reading this, that’s a super shitty, not ok number. The staff was all up in arms about me having an energy drink with me, which yeah, may have contributed to the issue, but I fully believe my blood pressure would have sucked regardless because there are not enough drugs in the world to make conscious face cutting ok. 

I ended up signing the consent form and taking a Xanax. After about 15 minutes, I didn’t care. I should add that I was trying not to break down the entire hour we waited to get my blood pressure to come down naturally before I signed my consent. Like, I would be borderline sobbing, and the care team would leave the room to give me some space. Ox would comfort me. I would calm down. The team would come back in to take my blood pressure and it would all start over again. The feeling of being unable to breathe, wishing desperately that I could leave without a horrific death related to secondary cancers looming over me. 

I did not want surgery. I also didn’t want to die. This whole time they “thought” it was only in the first layer of my skin, which would be awesome. It means surgery would have like a 99% chance of removing all the cancer and I would be fine without further intervention. But they wouldn’t know for sure it was only in the first layer until the lesion was examined under a microscope. 

With each level of depth to melanoma the chances of survival drastically dimenision. For statistical reference, melanoma makes up about 15% of reported skin cancer cases. It makes up roughly 70-ish % of skin cancer deaths. So yeah, since we didn’t know what we were dealing with I had to stay overnight in the area in case we had to go back in for more surgery the next day. 

Anywho… we couldn’t get my blood pressure into the OK zone for the surgery. Signed consent that I didn’t want to sign, took a Xanax, and then I just didn’t care about any of it. I wasn’t ok with it. I wasn’t magically happy or better. I was just so apathetic that I literally didn’t care. 

Oh… You want to cut up my face? Fine. Fuck it. It’s not like it matters. What’s the point of anything anyway? We’re all going to die. I’ll just lay here and cry silent tears knowing that this nightmare is real and there’s nothing I can do about it and all of it fucking sucks. 

Ox had to leave the room for the lesion removal. Once it was over my wound was packed with so much gaze and padding it was like I had a softball tapped to my face. And I was sent home like that to wait for test results. Ox and I stayed at a hotel. We went back to the hospital the next day. The nurse told us my results hadn’t returned yet. So we waited. And waited. 

When the nurse came back it was to tell me that the margins came back negative. I was cancer-free. No more surgery was needed. While that was good news to hear, it meant I moved to the next stage of the cancer saga. Reconstructive surgery. 

I came back home with Ox and lived my first of many weeks of not being able to shower. I couldn’t get the dressing on my face wet. I had to leave it in place until reconstruction. When your morning routine for over 20 years has been “wake up, eat, shower”… the not being able to shower part totally fucks shit up. 

It was also the first of many weeks of not being able to eat much of anything. I couldn’t open my mouth wide enough to get more than a level spoonful of food into my mouth, and even then I couldn’t really chew anything. Soups were a big part of my life. If I could eat or drink something through a straw it had a high chance of being successfully consumed. I found out there is a shop in town that does protein smoothies. That became the small bright spots in my day.

It was horrible going there the first time. Taped up, looking fucked up, not able to talk much because I couldn’t move my jaw… The staff members were so kind. They made the shake more liquidy for me so I could drink it easier. They never once made me feel bad or like I shouldn’t be in their shop. They had sympathy, empathy, and compassion, but never pity. Their kindness meant so much to me, especially during that first week. 

I had more therapy sessions between the car wreck and the surgery. We talked about my fear of having the mask put on my face for reconstruction because of my thyroid surgery experience. We talked about so many things, trying to… I don’t know, brace for the surgeries? Have less anxiety about them? Something…  I think it helped. I also think nothing can ever truly prepare you for the aftermath of surgery. 

Before I knew it, Ox was driving me back to the hospital so more of my face could be cut up. 

I cried as I was being put under, but at least this time I didn’t have to be awake. 

When I did wake up I was in recovery. Not long after I woke up it was discovered that I had uncontrolled bleeding. The surgeon was called in. I was given… morphine I think… something. I was awake while they unbandaged my face, removed the sutures, pulled back my skin, and found the blood vessel that was causing problems. Then my face was stitched back up.

I had blood everywhere. My neck, my ear, matted into my hair. I knew that I should care, but I didn’t. I was just laying there, feeling my blood run over my skin, feeling the sutures being pulled out, and feeling nothing within myself. Just emptiness and helplessness because even though I wanted none of this to be happening, it was happening, and it had to happen to stop the bleeding. 

While the surgeon was working, she told me skin from my shoulder/neck area had to be taken to create a graft. So not only was my face full on Frankensteined with stitches and swelling, but I had a lift restriction and another wound to care for because of the sutures at the base of my neck. 

Once the bleeding was stopped and I was stitched back together, I was allowed to go home. 

Oh… and that whole time they were figuring out the uncontrolled bleeding thing… Ox was in the waiting area freaking the fuck out. He does not have fond memories of those three to four-ish, hours…

For him it went “We started surgery” Hours of silence. “Surgery is done, it went well.” A little later, “Oh… there’s a bleeding issue we’ll let you know what’s going on”… one hour of silence, two hours of silence, three hours of silence… Like… Am I dead, dying? Is it going ok? Something? Anything? Then, finally, someone came out and said, “Ok you can come see her”. While it sucked being in the situation I was in, I cannot even begin to imagine how hard those hours must have been for him. 

Through all of this, work was amazingly supportive. With the whole car thing and my trip to the ER because I lost feeling in my arm a week after the wreck while I was at work, to getting the news about my diagnosis, to needing time off to figure out the car, and then more time off for the surgeries plus the recovery…

My team sent flowers to the house along with a card that everyone signed. They also sent money with a note saying they hoped it help provide food for me so I didn’t have to worry about cooking while I was trying to recover. Just… so much kindness and compassion. I cried when I read the card. I still have it. 

Anywho… I had to wait like… another week before the stitches could come out. Another week of no showers. Ox helped me with my dressing changes. We took progression pictures to track how the wound was doing. Was it more swollen, more red? Was it showing signs of infection? Nope, it actually looks better compared to the last picture. 

It was and still is hard to see those pictures. I will have these scars for forever and there’s nothing I can do to hide them. They will fade and be less prominent, but never fully gone. 

That was and is hard. 

When I got the sutures removed I was told how good the incisions were healing. It was still another week before I could shower. We didn’t want water to mess with the incisions and injure the blood vessels growing into the rearranged skin on my face. 

Ox helped me wash my hair a couple of times. The first time I didn’t last very long. I had to lay across three of the kitchen chairs so I could hang my head over the bathtub while he used the shower head to try to rinse the blood from my hair. 

I couldn’t hold that position for very long with the incision at the base of my neck. Supporting my head like that hurt and I could only handle the pain for so long, even while on pain meds. 

The first hair rinse almost made me sick because all I could smell was the copper of my blood. The water was filthy with it, and still, I could feel blood on my scalp. So much had washed out and yet there was more. I went through so many q-tips trying to get the blood out of my ear…

The second hair rinse went better. The water wasn’t as dark. I could shampoo more and for longer. 

We ended up going to Cost Cutters once my sutures were removed. My hair had grown down to my butt. Not the easiest thing to care for when you’re not able to shower or get your face wet. 

Though I didn’t have open wounds on my face, I knew it was hard to look at the fresh incisions, and I knew some people wouldn’t be ok with providing service to me. The lady to met me at the counter was super professional, though. She said she didn’t have a problem at all. We discussed how much of my hair to cut off. We did a dry cut, getting a majority of the length off, then she had me sit at the washing station and washed my hair. 

She washed my hair. MY HAIR WAS FINALLY WASHED! I felt so much more human. Holy fuck I can still remember how unbelievably fucking fantastic it felt to have my hair properly shampooed for the first time in over three weeks. 

When she was done washing my hair, she took me over the her station so we could do a proper cut. She asked if I had any pain or tenderness with the incisions, and then just talked to me like… I was me. Like I was normal and didn’t have a fucked up face. Just two people, shootin’ the shit during a haircut. 

She treated me with respect and kindness. She helped me when I wasn’t able to do something so simple, so basic, as wash my own hair. I gave her a $100 tip for a $10 wash. She asked if I had meant to put that large of a tip and I told her if I were able to give more I would because I appreciated what she did so much. 

She may have “just been doing her job”, but for me, it was so much more than that. I didn’t feel human. My face was still extremely swollen and just the thought of going back to work gave me anxiety let alone actually going back, which was what was on my horizon the following week. I felt like I didn’t belong in public because there was no way to not make people uncomfortable,  and here she is, telling me about her cats and gossiping and shit with me like I’m just another person. I cannot put into words how much that meant to me. You cannot put a price on priceless things. The best I could do was the extra $100 I had, since Ox and I ended up not having to stay two nights at the hotel for the lesion removal.

Going back to work was hard for me. Everyone was so kind, so supportive. Everyone, in their own time, came to my desk to talk to me. It helped ease the fear I felt; the non-belonging feelings started slowing easing, and work eventually started feeling “safe” because people still joked around with me. I was still invited to have lunch with the girls. My co-workers would still make eye contact with me, which helped me feel seen and like I mattered. I was still me. 

So this was like… the second week of November. My return to work. With cancer taken care of for the most part, that let me focus on my shin because, during the car wreck, my left shin had smashed into the break peddle and formed a crazy massive bruise.

When I had gone to the ER for my arm, I mentioned my shin. A large black scab had formed which didn’t seem like a “normal” scab and there was a clear-ish yellow liquid leaking from under the scab. 

They did x-rays and nothing was broken or fractured in my leg. I was told not to worry about the scab. So I didn’t. The scab ended up washing off in the shower one day. Since it was then an open wound, I put antibacterial cream on it, covered it, and went about my day. The car was still an issue and after that, I had cancer on my plate. If my leg wasn’t actively falling off then it could wait its turn.

Well… here we are, still have an open wound on my shin, and not much progress has been made in the healing department even though my face is healing well. So that turned into a couple of ER visits because it developed cellulitis and the antibiotics I was given weren’t helping. So the second visit I got an IV antibiotic and a referral to wound care. 

That led to bi-weekly debridements of my wound, which sucked. On January 19th I was given a skin grafter for that, which finally allowed a scab to form. It is 100% officially healed now, in February… It took from September until February for this thing to heal completely… 

The skin graft was over 5k. The only reason I know that is that the hospital misfiled it as workmen’s-comp, so it was rejected by my insurance. 

Debridements are $500 if you were wondering because one of those got misfiled too… Thankful that has been adjusted because there was no way I was going to pay for something that I was told would be covered by the other insurance. Like… I just had two surgeries on my face, I can’t afford to own an additional $5000 because someone else destroyed my car with me in it. 

So… things are settling down. I just had my one-year review at work. I have exceeded all goals that were set for me. I will be promoted in July to Drafting I. Therapy is going well. I have had a few EMDR sessions with my therapist, and so that’s where I am currently. 

Cocooning and figuring out how to incorporate all of the bullshit my life has been for the past six-ish months. 

So what is cocooning?

For me, is when I withdraw and become introspective. I’ve been watching a lot of comedy stuff on Netflix recently. I don’t have the drive or will to play a video game. I don’t want to read or cross-stitch. My mind I shifting through my truths and figuring out who I am in the aftermath of all of these events. 

I can’t do that around people or while I am engaging. It might seem like I’m laying in bed doing nothing, and on a physical level, that is accurate. Internally, I can feel that I am changing, morphing, growing, transforming. 

It’s like when you physically blank burrito… only that’s what my brain is doing. Snuggling under the warmth and safety of isolating myself from extensive external stimuli so I can work through the backlog of experiences. 

Writing is part of that process. I’ve given the bulk of the events an initial dump onto a screen because you have to start somewhere, right? Normally in the cleaning process, you have to make a mess before you can figure out what you want to keep or toss, and how you want to organize the things you keep. 

So yeah… most likely still going to be cocooning for a while, but I’m getting back to the gym, I dyed my hair this weekend, I’m in therapy, and I’m working on figuring some things out. I’m figuring out who I want to be so I can be that person once the cocoon phase is over.

006: The Yoga Class That Almost Killed Me

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It has been a busy week. 

I didn’t sleep well Monday night… so the gym didn’t happen Tuesday morning… booooo… :E

Work was decent. Ended up going to the gym after work, so that part of my to-do list got salvaged. Yaaaaay! : D

One of Ox’s ex’s came over unannounced Tuesday night, so that was… interesting. It seems like she is doing well. She wanted to pay me back part of the money she owes me. It wasn’t a bad visit, but the unscheduled social interaction threw Ox and me for a bit of a loop, especially from someone we didn’t expect to see… well… ever, I guess. 

Tuesday night I didn’t sleep well again. And by not well, I mean I didn’t sleep at all. It hardcore sucked. Work was decent enough. While I was on my lunch break Ox convinced me to call my endocrinologist to see if my appointment could happen earlier. 

I’ve known for a while that my dosage of Synthroid is on the high side. Having trouble sleeping is one thing… Not being able to sleep even though you’ve taken a double dose of melatonin is starting to toe the “not ok” line. I have slight tremors in my legs and arms if I stay still for too long. I feel like I’m hungry more often than what is normal for me. I haven’t been having heart palpitations, so I have that going for me. It also shouldn’t take that level of symptom for me to reach out to my doctor when I’m constantly trembling for no reason. 

The receptionist was able to advance my appointment, so I have my lab draw this coming Friday morning, and then the following Tuesday I’ll meet with my doctor to see how my medication should be adjusted. It will still be roughly three weeks before any changes begin to take effect, but at least it’s only roughly a month more of restless/sleepless nights rather than two months.

Wednesday nights are DnD nights for Ox and me. We recently found a couple other people to meet up with near my work and nerd out for a few hours. Ox was worried about me staying out late instead of coming home and trying to go to bed early. I was worried about it too, but it had been two weeks already since our last game session and I had been looking forward to the evening. It ended up being a good night despite my sleeplessness. 

Once the session was over Ox and I came home and pretty much went straight to bed. 

Luckily I was able to sleep really well. Who knew that exhaustion helps you sleep? 

I woke up on my own, a little bit before my alarm. It was early enough that I could make it to the gym for a bike ride. So I did. Fed the cats, ate some breakfast, then headed to the gym. I biked 10 miles in roughly 25 minutes. Not a personal record, but that’s not what I’m going for at the moment. I’m trying to get back to consistency and having cardio endurance rather than crushing it like a bawce. That will come with time. 

After my ride, I stretched, then showered. Got ready for work, then headed in. It was another decent day. Nothing really special or crazy. 

Friday I didn’t wake up early enough for the gym, but I packed my gym bag and took it with me on the off chance that I had it in me to go after work. 

I was able to finish up the project I was working on, as well as make the changes for a checkset I got back. A lot of the feedback fell into the “personal preference” category of corrections. They were the kind of correction where my boss would want me to “defend my work”. 

And I guess this is where things get kind of weird with not actually naming people. My actual supervisor isn’t at my work location. He’s at the company headquarters. I’m an hour and a half away in our off-shoot office. My trainer is also not at my location. So when I have a question it’s easier to ask my location supervisor for advice. 

So for names, I guess we can have Mr. Boss (my official boss), Ms. Trainer (my trainer), and Mr. Not-My-Boss (my future supervisor once I’m out of my apprenticeship). 

So… since I was pretty sure I had corrections that didn’t need to be made, I popped into Mr. Not-My-Boss’ office to talk to him about it. He advised how he would send an email and verified that yeah, the stuff I was concerned with was actually fine and didn’t need to change. 

With all of my work done until next Wednesday (yeah… I’m that far ahead on my projects), I was able to work on a special project that I have from Mr. Boss. The plant has a lot of scrap steel and they are looking for different things to use it for. One idea they are kicking around is making fire pits. So I’m currently working on different designs for how our sheets of scrap could be folded and pressed to make fire pits. 

It’s been fun. I’m using origami for a lot of my inspiration. I’m curious to see if all the different origami animals and such could possibly be garden decorations or something. It’s going to be part of what I submit. Not that any of this is actually going to go anywhere. It’s just R&D right now, but it’s fun. I have to not only figure out the dimensions and bends and degrees and cuts and all of that, but I also have to create the plans that the plant will use to create my designs. 

So we’ll see where that goes. I’m hoping to remain ahead on my projects so I can work on this special one during normal office time, rather than coming in on the weekend or staying late to do it. Mr. Boss and I have talked about my time regarding this project. He doesn’t want me working on it off the clock at home. And he knows for the past weeks, it has been hard for me to work on it during normal hours because I’ve had so many actual work projects on my schedule. He’s ok with ~5 hours of overtime each week, and while I would like the overtime, I would also like to be home. It would be ideal to keep ahead on my normal work so I can have a few spare hours each week to devote to my R&D assignment.

We’ll see what happens schedule-wise throughout the week.

So yeah, Friday at work was a pretty chill and fun day making origami boxes out of paper and then recreating/modifying the designs for steel production. 

After work, I stopped at a gas station to fill up, get energy drinks, and smoke since that’s still a thing I do. 

I went to the gym for another bike ride. It went well. I’ve gone through a lot of my music to make a biking playlist instead of skipping around while I’m in the middle of a ride to try to find something I want to listen to. 

I swung my Costco afterward to pick up some of their St. Luis ribs. I haven’t had them in a while and I know Papa Ox likes them, so I thought it would be a nice treat over the weekend. 

I finally made it home and proceed to annihilate my to-do list. 

Ox and I made plans for Saturday and eventually, after doing a bunch of other stuff, I went to bed. 

I slept decently. Woke up around midnight for a little bit, but was able to fall back asleep until around 6:45. The cats knew I was awake so they began their cries of “MOM! WE’RE STARVING! FEED US!”

I decided it was better to go ahead and get up rather than pretending I couldn’t hear them. It would have only caused them to sit on my chest and yell at my face anyway. Besides, I had plans to go to yoga at 8:45. Might as well get up early and get a few extra things done before heading out. 

I fed the cats, had half a bagel for breakfast. Even made a cup of coffee to go with it. I was outside sipping on said warm, comforting cup of coffee while I had my morning cigarette when Ox joined me. 

We had planned out our day the previous night. If I was able to sleep well, I would go to the gym for the yoga class. It would be a nice relaxing class, and once it was over I would come home all refreshed and awesome feeling. It was going to be great. Everything was going according to the list. Sleep well. Check. Wake up on time. Check. Go to the gym. On it!

Made it to the gym. Got inside. Found the studio. Rolled out my matt. Totally looking forward to my first yoga class in forever. I couldn’t wait to stretch my hamstrings out after biking so much.

Well… wouldn’t you know that Saturday classes are the M3, power yoga classes…

Fuck… my life… >.<;

My legs were already goo from biking 30 miles this week. But I was already there so it’s not like I could have left. I mean… yeah… I could have… admitted defeat in front of the whole room of strangers I had never seen before… but I wasn’t going to because my sense of pride is stronger than my sense of survival. 

I did alright for most of the class. But then we got to the third and final flow. That one was focused on balance poses. ;-;

Why, Universe? Why do you hate me so?

Needless to say, walking down the stairs from the studio was sucked. Walking to the car sucked. Standing sucked… My legs were so shot after that class. 

I managed to walk, not crawl, into the house. Regardless of if the rest of the day was salvageable or not, it was a success simply because I walked over the threshold of the house rather than sobbing at the first step up the porch.

Papa and Mama Ox were in the living room and I ended up talking to them for a bit. Told them the “funny” story about “relaxing” yoga kicking my ass. Sunday is for sure a rest day after today… 

Once I was able to wiggle my way out of the conversation I showered and the rest of the day got back on track. My trial contacts had come in early in the week, but I was never able to make it out of work in time to pick them up. Since the office has short hours on the weekend, Ox and I swung by there first. They were able to look at the delivery date for my glasses as well. Their system says they shipped today so I should be getting them at some point this coming week. That will be nice. 

With “pick up contacts” off the list, Ox and I headed out for lunch. We had agreed beforehand to go to Chili’s since it takes for-fucking-ever (a legitimate measurement of time, btw) to decide on a place to eat. 

Lunch was super good. I had a cup of chicken enchilada soup with the cajun pasta. Ox tried the soup and enjoyed it, too, so I’ve already found a recipe to try making something similar at home. 

After lunch, we went back to Costco. During meal planning, we decided to do the garlic butter steak recipe I have. Well… I totally didn’t think to check out the meat selection at Costco while I was there Friday evening because why would I think to be efficient like that? >.<;

Walmart never seems to have a good selection, so we figured it couldn’t hurt to look at Costco. It ended up being a successful trip. With that completed we headed to Walmart for the remainder of the grocery shopping. 

We’re trying a bourbon chicken recipe tonight, so we had to buy bourbon. I’m hoping it turns out well. Other than that it wasn’t a super exciting trip. I wasn’t feeling as tired and sore after eating which was nice. Maybe part of my tiredness was the fact that I only had half a bagel before demanding my body do strenuous things… -_-;

I’m glad my overall energy level picked up after lunch. I was worried all of the extra walking was going to be too much, but it wasn’t. Hooray!

With the shopping done, we came home. I prepped some of the veggies and meat, so that’s less to do during the week. I baked the chicken that’s going to be used for dinner tonight. I cleaned up all of the mess I made so the kitchen would be ready for later. 

By that time, I was feeling the tiredness in my body again, but this time it was as pain. I ended up lying down for about an hour. I don’t think I really slept as much as I simply rested. It was a nice break and I think a needed one. 

Once I got back up, I tried out my new contacts. They feel thinner than my previous ones, which I didn’t even know was a thing until I put the new ones in. I’ve been wearing them for about two hours, so it’s not a whole lot of time to go off of. So far I like them. I get a few more days to try them out before I have to make a decision to buy. 

I typed up the changes to my work notes from the previous week. Ox and I folded clothes, which that’s something I forgot about. This morning before I left for yoga I went through my clothes so I could pack winter stuff away. I pulled out some things that I want to donate rather than keep as well as a few things I want to take to my storage unit. Sorry for the tangent. Writing about folding clothes triggered that memory. 

I’ve already done my evening chores like cleaning the litter box and other mundane, boring stuff like that. And now I’m pretty much done with writing so I’ll be able to scratch that off my list, too. 

It’s been a super busy day, but it’s been a good day, and despite my restless/sleepless nights, it was a good week. 

There’s not as much going on tomorrow so hopefully I’ll eek out some time to type and it won’t be an entire week’s worth of catching up. But for now, I’m going to go since I’m hungry and dinner won’t cook itself. ;-;

005: Doing Better

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Today went better than yesterday. 

After writing yesterday, I ended up checking out a book from our library on Libby. Upward Spiral by Alex Korb. It didn’t really help shift me out of my funk but it helped me have clearer insight into why I get so frustrated and down on the weekends. Surprise, surprise, it has to do with the living situation. 

There still isn’t a solution for it, and most likely won’t be one while Ox and I are living here. I’m trying to focus on the fact that by living here I’m able to straighten out my financial situation. I’m making really good progress on the credit card and cleaning up my medical debt. There are positives to living here, surrounded by people and noise, if I can stop my introverted freakouts and allow myself to acknowledge them. 

Everyone really liked dinner last night, too. More than anything else, getting up and doing something in the kitchen helped straighten out my mood. It wasn’t a fancy meal. Just some chicken covered in Shake and Bake with broccoli and mashed potatoes. It had the comfy homemade food feeling, though. It was nice. Bonus points for Lil’ Ox for actually eating it. She’s still a super finicky eater. 

I slept alright, but not well enough to get out of bed at 4:30 to make it to the gym for yoga. Instead, I took my Synthroid and crawled back under the covers with the kittens until 6:30. Got up, did the morning routine, drove to work, and started tackling things there. 

I made it through all of the checkset corrections for one of my projects due at the end of the week. I didn’t have any feedback from my trainer’s checkset, so after lunch, I switched back to my current project. I made a bit of progress there before I got a message from my trainer. We had a 30-minute conversation about the corrections I needed to make. I made them. Let her know. Switched back to my current project.

Got some more feedback. Switched back to the checkset. Made those corrections. Switched back…

It was a lot of switching. >.<;

I submitted two projects to Keypunch today, though, so I’m counting it as a productive work day. I even made it to the fabrication stage of my current project. I got the special clips figured out for my jamb-to-rafter connection so tomorrow morning I can start in on my main primary members; columns and rafters. 

With all of the back-and-forth done I feel I’ll be able to make some significant progress tomorrow. I have until Friday to complete it. I’m relatively confident I can get done by Thursday if not sooner.

With the workday done, I clocked out and drove home. Ox didn’t answer when I tried to call him. Monday nights are raid nights on WoW for him, so I figured he was still napping. The drive was alright. It’s been overcast all day, so there wasn’t a lot of sunlight to enjoy but Spotify played some decent music and overall traffic wasn’t bad. 

I woke Ox up when I got home. We had a few minutes together before he had to get online. I ate dinner, did a few chores, then started typing up the changes to my note sheets for work. I have all of my updates printed so I can add them to my binder tomorrow.

With personal work stuff caught up, I didn’t have anything stopping me from writing, and so here I am taking care of one of the last things on my to-do list. I don’t know what I’m going to do for the next hour or so. Maybe play a little bit of Witcher III, maybe cross stitch, maybe read more in my book. Who knows? I’m content with everything I was able to get done today so ideally I’ll be able to sleep without the feeling of “I should have done more” tormenting my brain. And, even more ideally, I’ll be able to wake up early to get a bike ride in at the gym.

And with that, I guess I’ll go figure out something to do. 

004: Weekends Suck

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Today feels like I wash. I wish it didn’t. I wish it felt like a super productive and worthwhile day. Wishing isn’t doing a whole lot to change anything, though. It’s a lot like sending “thoughts and prayers”. They don’t do a whole lot to change the situation. 

This has been a theme for a while… weekends being harder than what it feels like they should be.

Yesterday was good; productive… I woke up, went to the gym, showered, and did the grocery shopping. I prepped what food I could for the coming meals. I cooked dinner for everyone. I cleaned the kitchen…

Today doesn’t have the same “do stuff” energy and it’s frustrating not knowing why. 

I woke up and took my meds. Eventually, everyone else woke up, too. I made breakfast with Ox and that’s been the extent of my accomplishments. I’ve wasted an hour or so on Facebook scrolling in the hopes of seeing cute cat pictures or videos. 

I’ve finally put the chicken in the oven so I can make my lunch containers for the week. I doubt I’ll get to the gym. I have notes I would like to type for work but instead, I’m writing this. I don’t know if writing can really be considered a “good” thing when it’s most likely being used as a form of procrastination. 

Days like today are annoying. It’s cold outside again. Everyone else in the house is pretty much doing nothing and there’s not a way to get away from it; to be alone to find my own quiet thread of… something… motivation… discipline… It feels like I’m surrounded by this otherness and since I can’t physically get away from it, I’m left trying to escape it inside my head; survive it until it goes away on its own. 

Part of me, a small part, wants to cry over the trapped feeling. The rest of me is apathetic. It’s used to this feeling and knows it’s pointless to try to fight it or change it. There isn’t a way to change it so just accept that today is going to suck and nothing is going to get accomplished…

Why do I have to have an obsession with accomplishment and productivity anyway? 

What do I have on my list that’s so pressing that it has to be done today? Other than changes to one of my work checklists, there’s really nothing that needs to get done. 

Maybe that’s part of the problem? I don’t actually have anything that requires me to do something. I don’t have a project to work on at home. 

I don’t think that’s it. At least, it doesn’t feel like “Ah, yes. That’s the answer!” inside my head. 

It feels like introversion burnout. It feels like “I want to be alone and I can’t so I’m going to be miserable instead,” which sucks. 

I’ve been thinking about going back to therapy. I don’t think that would really help in this situation. Therapy can’t make me want less alone time, nor can it give me more of it. Therapy can’t give me my own room, nor convince anyone in the house that having my own room would be a good thing. 

Conversations can help those things happen, and therapy can help those conversations happen or go well… but that’s not what I need. I know the skills and tools. I don’t need to learn them. 

I don’t know what I need. I don’t know what I want and I don’t know how or where to start to find out. 

I’ve been reading my writings to Ox again, but I don’t feel like reading this one. I don’t feel like posting it. 

Why? What is it that I’m worried about sharing? There’s nothing in my writing that I haven’t said before. Nothing Ox doesn’t know about. Maybe it’s because I’ll be repeating the same stuff over again. It’s the same problem that I’ve had for what… five… six years now? 

Me: I don’t get alone time. I don’t have a safe space for my special introversion-ness. *world’s smallest violin plays in the background*

You know… I could just not bitch about what I don’t have and be grateful for the things I do… like a place to live and food and clean clothes, and reliable transportation… How about hot water and electricity? Those are nice, too… 

But, no. Instead, I’m sitting here feeling trapped and confined and sorry for myself. Which is dumb, because feeling sorry for myself isn’t making me feel better or in any way changing my situation. It’s just wasted energy. 

As shitty as this writing is, I’m going to end it here. The chicken is done so I need to finish making my lunches. I need to shower still, and there are notes to type. 

It feels like I’m waiting for the day to end so tomorrow can start because maybe tomorrow will be better. It also feels like whatever sad emotion I was feeling is turning to anger, which has more potential to accomplish stuff than depression.

So you know what? Fuck you, Sunday. You’re my target now, and I won’t let you win.

003: Ok with Ok

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So still not really a daily writing habit, but I’m doing better than I have in… well… months. Years possibly. 

I had my 90-day review today. That went well. I met all of the goals management gave me. Their rating system is a 1-3 scale. 1,  you didn’t meet expectations. 2, you did. 3, you exceeded expectations. 

All of my ratings were twos, which I’m ok with. I at least met expectations. 

My supervisor is pleased with the progress I have made in such a short amount of time. Apparently, my coworkers were able to give feedback and said I fit in well and I ask really good questions. I’m polite and receptive to feedback. I take ownership of the mistakes I make rather than trying to shift the blame to someone or something else. 

I don’t think I’m doing anything amazing or radically crazy by being respectful, showing up to work on time, actually doing the work expected of me, and asking questions when I’m unsure of how to do something. I guess they have a hard time with new hires doing those things, though. 

I have new goals for my 6-month review. I need to complete more projects and develop my communication with my checking drafter. He wants me to build my confidence in defending my work rather than rolling over and just accepting what my checker says. 

There have been a handful of instances where my checker has told me was wrong when I was actually right, or I got docked points for things that are a personal preference rather than something that was actually wrong. 

It’s sort of like if you load the dishwasher and instead of keeping all the spoons, forks, and butter knives separate,  you clump everything together. It’s not that the dishwasher is loaded wrong one way or the other. Everything still gets washed and comes out clean in the end. But if you have “your” way of doing things, it can “feel” wrong when someone does it a different way. That doesn’t mean it’s actually wrong; it’s just different.

I need to get comfortable with asking for an explanation for my score when justification isn’t given. My supervisor said my work deserves to be defended and I’m the person to do that. So… yeah… that’s something he wants me to work on. 

As someone super new, the thought of asking for justification is slightly terrifying. Blarg… a problem for a different day. Something to work on in the future. Yes, the future… as in not right now so chill out, anticipatory anxiety attack. 

Right now I would rather feel a small sliver of pride that I finally got face-to-face feedback and it was positive. 

Yesterday, Thursday, our office drove an hour and a half to the corporate headquarters. The fiscal year ends in April for the company. They were having an “End of Year” lunch and we were required to be there. 

I finally got to meet my trainer in person along with all of the other people who are in my training group. I got to see all of the different buildings that make up our company. Josh and I got to talk about different components in regard to their design. Inset/outset girts, light transmitting panels, underhung cranes, hip/valley roofing… all sorts of stuff I haven’t gotten to yet, but that are on my horizon. 

It was actually super fun and encouraging. I was able to talk shop and participate in the conversation. I’m grasping all the concepts and able to make connections when given new information. 

During the lunch, we were told the company had had its best year to date financially. Everyone was receiving a bonus. Even me. 

Me. A lowly new hire who has contributed basically nothing to their “year of success” was included in their success. I am humbled and honored to be included. I don’t feel like I deserve the bonus. It motivates me to prove that I am worth the investment. I was and am worth hiring and having on their team. I am grateful for the opportunity they gave me with the job offer and I am doing my best to prove to means something to me. They could have said no, and they didn’t, and that matters. 

So, on the topic of proving myself worthy of being hired… my checkset corrections were late keypunch. 

Once I am done detailing a project, it needs to get checked. There’s a set amount of time for my checker to go over my job and get corrections back to me. Then there’s another set amount of time for me to make the corrections so the fabrication documents can be sent to the plant. 

The checkset I am working on was one of my harder projects, so there are more corrections that need to be made. I wasn’t able to get through them until 4:30 today. That wasn’t enough time for my checker to back-check my work; to make sure my corrections were actually done correctly. 

So I couldn’t get the fabrications to the plant by end of business today…

It’s a shitty feeling. At the same time, my rational logical brain y supervisor said it’s to be expected. Harder projects are going to take me longer and they would rather I take extra time to do things correctly than to rush through the work and keep getting it kicked back to me for being wrong. 

I’m trying to come to terms with the emotions I feel. Emotions like letting people down, or “not meeting expectations”. I literally just had a meeting where I was told I am meeting them and it’s ok to take longer than what the schedule says. The schedule can be changed and updated. 

I guess the thing that’s the hardest to contend with is my own expectations for myself. I don’t expect perfection, but when there’s a goal, a deadline, I WANT to meet it. And when I don’t it doesn’t feel good. I let myself down. I didn’t meet MY expectations, and that’s a shitty feeling, even if my personal expectations are mildly unrealistic. 

I’m trying not to let it eat away at me too much. There’s nothing I can do about it over the weekend. All I can do is go in Monday and keep working at it. I’ve kept busy for most of the night as a way to try to get the sandpapery feeling of mild failure out of my skin. 

I’ve meal planned with Ox. I made the shopping list. I cleaned the kitchen. I folded and put the clothes away. We made the bed. We fixed the curtains so they aren’t covering up the window AC unit. I made a little box for the cell phones out of cardboard so they won’t fall off the shelf I bought for them when we charge them at night. I found a file organizer I want to have at work and ordered it. I’ve gone through my weekly to-do lists and prepped the lists for this coming week. 

I’ve done a fair amount since I’ve been home, and yet I still feel the weight of my incomplete project. 

The whole weekend is a really long time to feel that type of weight. I don’t know if writing about it is really helping. Most likely not. I don’t know if sleep will help, or the gym, or if the feelings just need more time… 

Hopefully the emotions and I can come to some sort of understanding or agreement. I’m not a failure and I’m doing well, and harder projects are most likely going to run behind. As I get better, I’ll do better. 

Maybe that can be my mantra. Part of me thinks it sounds like an excuse. At the same time, I can only do my best. 

Arrrrrrg. Fuck you for being frustrating, brain. 

In other news, the check engine light came on in my car. That happened last night on the way home. 

I stopped at an O’rialy’s since they can read the code for free. It’s a very small emissions leak. “Take care of at your own convenience” was the machine’s recommendation. 

Since it wasn’t a “your car is dying” type of code I don’t feel super stressed about it. I can make an appointment that fits my schedule. I don’t have to rush to get the soonest appointment and figure out how to get to and from work without a car because it’s in the shop. 

I plan to call tomorrow to see what’s available and go from there. 

Not super stoked to have a car problem, but I am grateful it seems to be a minor one and that, with the bonus, I can most likely handle the expense. 

It’s so weird, being relatively financially stable. Were it three months ago, I would be nauseous right now thinking about an unexpected expense, especially a car expense. But I’m not. It’s a problem and I’ll figure it out. 

I am grateful for where I am at. Not just physically, as in here at the house, but where I am at in this moment in my life. Sure, I’m feeling a little shitty about work and having minor car issues, but overall, it’s a really good spot to be in. I’m in a supportive environment both at work and at home. I’m able to meet my financial obligations and see my doctor. I’m able to have time to myself at the gym and still have time with Ox as well. 

It’s… nice. It’s not perfect and that too is part of the niceness. 

I guess that’s the mentality I can have with work. Life isn’t perfect, and yet things are still ok. I’m ok with things being ok. 

002: A Slight Ramble About Work and Life

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Why, hello again. 

Twice in one month. Crazy…

Work has been going well so far this week. 

Monday started off sort of shitty. Woke up at 4:30. Thought about not going to the gym but decided that I would feel worse if I didn’t, so up I stayed. Got dressed. Dragged myself out to the car. Drove to the YMCA. Made it inside even. 

I didn’t feel any more with it. I picked out a cycling video from Fitbit and told myself any workout is better than no workout. 

It was a pretty shitty workout…

Not the video or the instructor in it… just… I don’t know. I most likely should have taken Monday as a rest day. Or done yoga which I totally forgot was a class offered Monday mornings. My body wasn’t rested enough from my workouts over the weekend to go hardcore first thing Monday morning and it showed. 

After showering I headed to work where I finished the project I was working on before switching back to one I was already part way through. I guess someone was falling behind on their schedule and this project is due to the shop sooner rather than later. So I was asked to put a pin in my original project so this new one could get done on schedule. 

It wasn’t a super complex project and I was able to wrap it up on time. With that done, I could go back to my pinned project and keep progressing there. I got a fair amount done. Enough that I was able to finish it today. 

Last night was a decent night. Came home less crappy feeling than how the day started. Cooked a basil pesto chicken with grape tomatoes and green beans. It was tasty and there are leftovers so that’s dinner tonight and maybe tomorrow. 

I got a lot of my to-do list done yesterday, so that felt good. Made up for a crap workout. 

Slept decently. Opted not to do the gym today and instead let my body rest. It seems grateful. 

Got a lot done at work again. Got one of my other projects back.

So… There’s a whole process that a project goes through. My job is to “detail” the project. That means the engineer has already figured out what the building needs to be up to code with all of the additions the buyer wants. Things like windows, overhead doors, walk doors, gutters, downspouts… The list goes on and on. 

I don’t have to worry about making sure anything is up to code. My job is to make sure the builders have all the instructions they need to assemble the parts we send them correctly. I count literally every bolt. Every screw. I check every column and rafter to make sure all of the pieces line up with the right clips. Certain things like center blocking (extra support for overhead doors) have to be manually added, so I add them. 

Once I’m done confirming the entire building, a more experienced person checks my work. That will always happen. A building will get detailed by a drafter and then it will be checked, regardless of the drafter’s level of experience. 

So I got my checkset back for a production project I did earlier this month. There was very little that needed to be corrected which is a nice feeling. Usually, my trainer is the one who checks my work. Once she’s done she sends me an email with my “scorecard”. It’s essentially my grade. Scorecards factor into how quickly I’ll move from Apprentice Drafter to Drafter I. 

Well… I didn’t get a scorecard with my feedback. I sent a quick email thanking my checker for his feedback and if he knew if I was supposed to receive a scorecard. Not that I want to get a promotion or anything… but if I did… I would totally be wondering where my scorecard was… 

He replied back pretty quickly saying he would get one to me tomorrow, so I have that to look forward to. With how few corrections needed to be made I’m hoping for a decent score. 

I’ll finish up my corrections on that project tomorrow and then send my documents off to the shop. It’s one step closer to getting shipped out and built. It’s a cool feeling. Some of my other projects have already shipped. In a few months, there will be people standing in something I helped create. Kinda crazy to think I could take a trip somewhere and see a building I played a part in. Stand inside it. Touch a piece of the wall panel and know I calculated that length. I counted those fasteners. I confirmed those flange brace punches. 

Anywho… Once my checkset is done I get to move on to another project. It really is a never-ending cycle. Finish one, move on to the next. But so far I like it. 

This next project is a level 3. Levels go all the way up to 10. I’ve done a few fours already. Those melted my brain a little, but it’s getting better and I like the challenge when I’m given something new. Like slip clip connections or pipe struts or any number of things that are “new” in the three and a half months that I’ve been with the company, wish is pretty much everything. XD

I think I’m up to 19 or 20 projects so far. Some of those are training projects, so the buildings would actually be built. I got confirmation today from my trainer that I’m officially done with training projects, though. From here on out all of my work will be production jobs. 

I guess that’s enough rambling about work. 

Ox and I are doing well. Like… really well… 

It’s weird to type about it. Think about it. He’s been more affectionate recently. More hugs. More kisses. More random butt slaps, which yes, in my world are awesome. 

It makes me wonder how much of the stress and struggle we’ve gone through together was caused by me. I am doing better. I’m less depressed. I’m less stressed. I’m present in my life and in the relationship so maybe that makes it easier for him to be present, too. 

I don’t know. We don’t really talk about emotions anymore. We don’t beta test like we used to. We don’t have a date night or “date outing” where we would get lunch and grocery shop together like when I was going to nursing school. 

There are a lot of things that we don’t do like we used to but life and our schedules have changed since then and we can’t do things exactly like we used to. 

Maybe we should have a check in with each other. Maybe we should try to figure out a day where we can go out together. Maybe a weekly walk, now that winter is over. Something. 

Point being, our relationship doesn’t feel dead or like we’re distant roommates. It feels like we’re a couple and I like that. There’s a warmth there that helps me feel connected to my small bubble of a world. I don’t feel alone when I fall asleep next to him. 

Living with his parents again can be rough sometimes. We were working on the addition. Then his dad fell and was in the hospital for a while. He got discharged to a care facility and finally made it back home. During that period his parents decided they want to move to a different house. One without stairs and more friendly for an elder couple who are beginning to have mobility issues. 

I don’t know what that really means for Ox and me. I’ve been making progress on my debt but I don’t think I would be able to get a loan to buy the house from them by the end of summer which is when they want to move. 

I honestly don’t think moving by the end of summer is doable. Maybe that’s pessimistic of me. In my mind, it’s realistic. There’s still so much stuff his parents have to go through before they can pack. A whole garage worth of tools and such that haven’t been touched in years. They’ve lived here pretty much their whole adult lives. There’s a lot of… clutter? Random crap that isn’t used? It’s not trash exactly, and they’re not hoarders… but… pack rats maybe? I’m not sure if that’s any better… 

I’ve moved so often in my life that I don’t have much. What I do have is needed because packing and unpacking a ton of stuff sucks. They’ve never had to go through that process, of pairing down and contemplating “do you really want to carry that up three flights of stairs to your new home”, so there’s just… a lot of stuff… 

To her credit, Mama Ox hs been doing really well with sifting through things. I’ve been staying quiet about it. When she wants or needs help, I help. I don’t want any comment I say to be taken the wrong way or demotivate her or foster any sort of ill feelings. It’s a big task; one that I personally think is going to take longer than the summer to complete when you include selling this house and finding a new one. 

Anywho… So with the living situation sort of unknown, Ox and I haven’t been doing a lot of work on the addition. There’s talk about once the back room is cleared out turning that into a mini-office / bedroom for me. A dragon den. I really like the idea of doing that. It would be a spot where I could be alone. 

I think that’s still a little ways off and I’m not getting my hopes up about it, but it’s nice to think that maybe here in the near future, I’ll have a project at home to work on again. A room that I can clean up super nice and walls to paint. We’ll see what comes of it. 

Well… I guess that’s enough haphazard catching up for one day. I’m going to start getting ready for bed since tomorrow is supposed to be a gym day. One rest day is enough, body. Back to work with you!

001: First Writing of a New Year / New Job

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Hello, keyboard.

It’s been a while.  

I’m no longer an auto glass technician. I was doing really well at it. Calibrating forward-facing cameras was fun. I enjoyed the people I  worked with. I liked climbing up and down giant semi-trucks… It was physical and active and outside.

I have a chronic health condition, though, and not having health insurance was hard. Having a pay cut with increased rent and gas and all of the crazy inflation that’s been going on… liking my job wasn’t enough.

It was around October that I started scrolling through InDeed again. 

There was a post for a Drafting Apprentice Eexploritory Program. I didn’t know a whole lot about drafting, but I figured if this company was willing to open its doors and show me what they were about, I was willing to give it a shot. 

There was an orientation where they talked about the company and what the program would entail. I showed up for a few Saturday classes. I had a job shadow and an interview. I had a long two weeks after that waiting to hear back. 

And then I did. I was hired. I would start my new job as an apprentice drafter on January 3rd. If I could hold out until then… If I could get through the first month… things would get better. Financially, I wouldn’t be drowning because I would be making decent money again. I could go see my endocrinologist because I would have health insurance. If I could just make it… things might get better. 

So I gave my notice. The lease at the rental ended and I moved back in with Ox and his family. I survived my birthday and Christmas. Another year without Mom. 

I started my new job with the new year. 

I like it. It’s been three months so far. I’ve moved from training projects to actual production projects. There are parts of it that are challenging; sometimes overwhelming, but overall I really do enjoy it. 

There’s a lot of math but it’s not overly complex math. There’s a lot of figuring out how pieces go together. A lot of problem-solving through program limitations. It’s mentally engaging. I get to have headphones on and listen to music all day. And even though each building is different the overall workflow is consistent enough to be comforting. Familiar. A pattern. A routine. 

I’ve made my own custom checklist since there wasn’t an “official” to-do list. No paper I could print where I could scratch off or highlight my way through a project. Nothing solid and tangible to hold onto and keep me grounded when I started feeling overwhelmed with all of the hundreds of steps that go into fabricating a metal building. Nothing to look at and see how much I had already done or where I was in relation to the end goal. 

So I fixed that. 

I’m sure my checklist will continue to evolve and change as I encounter new and more complex projects. That too is fun and comforting. Updating documentation to improve workflow. I love it.

I’m starting to feel comfortable around my coworkers and with the company. I’m starting to breathe easier. The never-ending tension in my back and shoulders has been easing. I’m not as worried I’m going to turn around and be laid off or fired. I can’t say that fear has gone away completely, but it is less than it was on my first day.

Financially I’m making progress on my medical debt and the credit card. At the same time even. An increased paycheck with significantly lowered living expenses has a lot to do with that.

My overall goal at work is to reach Drafting I by August. That’s when the next position review is. If I don’t make it in August then December. Realistically, both of those goals are ambitious. I’ve been told an apprenticeship can last up to two years because the learning curve is so steep. We’ll see what happens, but unofficially official… I’ll get there by December at the latest. 

I got labs drawn in February. That’s when my health insurance kicked in. My T4 levels were a little high. With all of the changes going on in my life at the time my doctor and I decided to wait a little bit and redraw labs in three months before changing my Synthroid dosage. It could be that once things settled down and I adjusted to my new normals my dosage wouldn’t need to be adjusted. So that lab draw will happen sometime in May. 

I’ve started going back to the gym. It works best if I wake up early in the morning to go. Fewer people. Less traffic. I get to work earlier which means I can leave earlier. I’m allowed to take 30-minute lunches instead of a full hour which means I can also leave 30 minutes earlier as long as I’m on track to finish my projects on time. That means I get to leave around 3 or 3:30 in the afternoon. That gives me time to spend with Ox or game or cross stitch or whatever it is that I want to do. It’s not a wake-up, work, come home, do chores, go to sleep, rinse, repeat type routine. I can actually DO stuff and I even have the energy to do it. 

It’s taken a while to get to this point. Nearly three and a half months of small, slow steps to mentally and emotionally recovering from… everything… life… the past nearly five years. 

But here I am. Writing. Going to the gym. Enjoying work. Even, maybe, sort of, starting to enjoy life again. It’s not a hopeless, bleak, never-ending struggle toward a void of nothingness. 

Winter is over. It’s warm and sunny. The grass is turning green. 

It’s a good feeling and yet it still hurts. It’s been seven years since Mom died. So much has happened. 

If I could have a phone call with her… if I could tell her how I’m enjoying my job and how things are starting to finally work out… I know she would be proud of me. I can almost hear the way there would be a smile in her voice. Genuine happiness. I want to hear that so badly. I want her to give me a mom hug. The one where she would squeeze just a touch tighter at the end; like a hug within a hug. 

I can’t have that, though. I can’t have a phone call. I can’t have a celebratory lunch with her. All I can do is keep living, even when it hurts. So I do, and so here I am. Writing again. Listening to music again. Even singing along to it in my car sometimes. 

I can’t promise for writing to be a daily habit like it was so long ago. But I’m going to try a little harder than I have been, keyboard. Thanks for being here and listening to my quasi-good ramble. I’ll type to you later.