Daily Post 001: Hello World, Hello Self

I feel like crap today. I have a headache that’s only now starting to go away. I don’t think I’m sick, though I’ve been congested the last few days… weeks really. It’s come and go. No covid symptoms, so at least there’s that.

It’s winter. It’s past the holiday season. I survived it. I had my cry session a few days ago where Ox held me while I cried into his shoulder about how much I miss mom and how I want her back.

I passed my first semester of nursing school. I did really well it in. I maintained a 4.0 until Thanksgiving break. I think my lowest class was an 85 or something. I don’t feel accomplished about it. I became suicidal twice during those four months. Academically it might have seemed like I was being successful, but internally I wasn’t.

I was able to switch back into the part-time program for the following semesters. Instead of graduating at the beginning of May, I will be graduating in December again; nearly two years later. That knowledge sucks, but it feels better than trying to make it through another four months of full-time work and full-time school.

I currently am not taking any classes for the next four months. No prerequisites. No “this class seems fun”. Nothing except work and trying to find myself again.

Maybe that’s what a lot of this comes down to. I’ve lost myself yet again. I allowed it to happen. I haven’t gone to the gym since the start of my program. Jon and I are having a talk on Sunday about if we want to renew the lease together because the living situation sort of sucks. Ox and I are doing well and I feel that has to do with having winter break from school and actually being able to spend time with him instead of studying 9 million hours a day.

I’ve started playing World of Warcraft again. It’s given me an outlet. It’s given me a community and tasks and focus on something other than the issues in my life. I know I’m using it as avoidance. I know I’m letting myself indulge in an addiction instead of doing laundry or being at the apartment or grocery shopping. There’s a part of me who cares about it; who thinks I should do something other than nothing. And yet, the injured part of me just wants to hide and not hurt.

I’m tired. Still. After nearly a month away from school, I’m still so tired of everything. I had wanted to grocery shop today while Ox was at work. Feeling like death vetoed that though and it sucks. I could have done all of this stuff yesterday, but I didn’t, and now it won’t get done and so I’m a slacker, a failure, and I hate these emotions. These thoughts.

They’re not true, but I have very little to show for myself other than a virtual game that means nothing.

I don’t even know if I can say I’m lost because being lost implies you had a direction you were going, a destination you were trying to reach.

I don’t want to graduate. I don’t want mom to be dead. I want her to be here. I want her to say “I love you”. “I’m proud of you.” “I believe in you.” Anything. I would give so much just to hear her say anything to me one more time. To have one more hug. One more hand squeeze. Anything. Anything to not feel so alone and pointless. Something to hold on to; to let me know it’s not pointless and it’s worth it to keep going day after day, year after year of this hurt and change and difference.

Financially things are going alright for once in my life. It’s nice to have that area fairly stable and not affecting things. Politically I think my government and a clusterfuck of a disastrous dumpster fire. I don’t waste much energy thinking about it or stressing over it. Working an essential job may factor into my mentality of not giving a fuck. Regardless of what happens, my patients are still going to require treatment. I’m still going to have to get up at 2 am on the days I work to set up the clinic. I can’t take time off work like other people to protest or be involved in movements. I voted and that’s all I have the capacity to do.

Work has been going alright. One of my patients died shortly after school started. It was extremely unexpected. I wrote a letter to him which I never posted. Maybe I will at some point. I guess it depends on if I actually post this writing. There was one other I started a while ago which I never finished. I haven’t wanted to write in so long. I haven’t had the time or energy. And even now, I don’t really know if it’s supposed to help with anything since I’m so out of touch with myself.

I guess I could start there. “Hello, Self. It’s been a very long time, hasn’t it? How are you?”

Not good.

Why, not good?

I don’t know. I really don’t know and figuring it out is going to hurt and make me cry and I don’t want to do it. I’ve been cancer-free for a year. This time last year I wasn’t able to lift a laundry basket because I had to trust a stranger to cut my throat open. I had a new scar that I had to get used to. I had a week with my dad where he came out and made sure I was ok. I had a sociology class I was taking as a way to get me out of the house and stay involved in society.

I had a birthday where mom wasn’t able to call me. I had a Christmas where I got a new computer chair and a new desk which I can’t set up because in four months I might be moving again, but I don’t know where yet. Still in Nebraska, but will I be able to afford a house? Do I have to stay in an apartment? Will it be in Lincoln, Hickman, or Beatrice? Am I going to have to pay a pet fee for the kittens? What’s Jon going to do? Is he going to think I abandoned him? Am I bitch of a sister?

There are all these things going on and all I want is for life to not be a fucking disaster.

I’ve made it this far. I’ve made it through five years without mom. I’ve made it a year past cancer. I can figure all of this out. I can. I know I can. I don’t want things to stay the way they are and instead of looking at everything all at once, I know I need to break it down into small things. Small tasks. One task. One chore. A small chore. A doable chore to prove to myself that one thing can get done. If one thing can get done then other things can get done, one small step at a time.

And so I’ve done my first step. I’ve written. I’ve said hello to myself for the first time in months. I’ve acknowledged that I’m not doing well along with some of the areas that need attention, mending, healing. I didn’t think the cancer thing was such a big deal, but I guess it is in the dark corners of my head.

I feel weak and tired and that’s ok. I’m allowed to feel those things. I’m allowed to feel hurt and sad and alone. I’m allowed to miss mom. Holidays are always hard. Winter is always hard. I will get through this hard, and while today maybe another day where I play a video game and merely eek by in life, eeking by, surviving, is the highest level of achievement. It means I can try again tomorrow to do “better” or “more”.

I’m at square one at the moment. Maybe not even there. Maybe it’s more of a “pre-square”. The square where you start brainstorming and making plans and getting organized. It’s a new year and there’s going to be a lot of change in the coming months. I’m allowed to start over. I’m allowed to throw out all of the plans and to-do lists that I’ve had in my notebooks and start a new one; one that’s relevant to what life is now, not what it was four months ago.

I guess that’s what this writing can be. It’s my start. It’s my “hello, world”. My return. To me. To life. To trying. To doing.

We’ll see what happens, I guess. I am glad I wrote. I feel more stable than I did at the beginning of it. I might still be laying face first on the ground, but at least it feels like there’s solid ground beneath me.

Letters to Mom 029: Worksheet 1 Reflection

I’m writing to you again because I’m not going to have time to for the next few days. At least, not the type of time I would want to have, where I can sit, alone, uninterrupted or dictated by a time frame.

I can truly sit and write to you, now, in this moment, and so even though I’m still so raw over completing my worksheet, even though I want to quit and call today good, I’m writing to you instead.

Some of my answers bother me. I know I have strengths. Yet I said I don’t because I feel like I don’t. Answering, “learning I can survive your death sucks” also bothers me though with that one I don’t really know why…

I guess the biggest thing I took away from this first worksheet is clarity. I can articulate why your death is so hard for me now. It wasn’t simply because you died. It’s because my life changed and the biggest change is the lack of physical presence.

I guess that might seem obvious to others, but it wasn’t obvious to me. I had never had to explain it in quite that way before, and so the worksheet helped in that regard.

I also knew, for a while now, that my grief was more intense when I was tired and exhausted, but I didn’t know the why behind it. Sitting and diving into that aspect brought a deeper understanding of what I experience in those moments. You always had a special way of giving me a motivational boost when I felt like I had nothing left within me. You helped me power through, dig deep, not quit, not give in. I miss that. I miss your support and encouragement and positive reinforcement.

I feel, at least from this worksheet, that I need to work on emotional expression. Maybe that means I need to put more effort into writing since I know that’s an outlet that helps. Maybe I need to look into other methods of expression so I have more to employ other than writing. I don’t know, but I feel that is an area of extreme deficiency and one I would like to work on.

And yeah… the whole “Your death wasn’t the end of my world,”… I don’t know what to do with that. I’m not even sure what it is I feel when I read those words to myself. Guilt, maybe? Possibly even survivor’s guilt though I wasn’t the one who was sick and going through surgery after surgery.

I think that’s what I want to explore the most in my next counseling session, though “want” is a very relative term. It’s the section of the worksheet that stirs up the most confusion and dissonance within myself, so it’s the area that needs the most clarification. I don’t “want” to dig deep into emotions that suck, but the only way to get better is to do it, so I want to do it… Fucking emotional bullshit… -_-;

I work for the next three days. I won’t have a lot of time or energy to process through a lot of this any further than I have. LPN classes start in a week and a half. By the end of May, I’ll be a nurse. I got my very own stethoscope yesterday when I picked up the last of my books.

I think that would make you smile. Nurse Jen… Who would have thought that me, your child who passed out at the sight of blood, would be in nursing school…

I love you, mom. Thanks for listening to me.

Letters to Mom 028: Worksheet 1

Hey mom,

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

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

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Understanding My Grief

1: I am having the hardest time adjusting to:

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

2: I feel most triggered when I:

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

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

3: What happens when I feel triggered?

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

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

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

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

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

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

6: I express my emotions by:

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

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

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

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

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

9: During this process, I have learned that:

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

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

Daily Post 220: Being Done

Hey Chromebook,

I’m getting used to talking to you. I’m starting to enjoy it. I’m starting to find my new normal here at the apartment; my morning routine and flow. It’s a nice feeling.

Things are better and yet slightly worse at the same time.

The better…

I went to the gym again and had another pretty awesome workout. That was at 5am yesterday. I came back home afterward and rested for a couple of hours with the kittens before getting up and taking care of stuff. I went out and bought a bookcase from Walmart; the same one I have bought four times now. Maybe this time I’ll be able to hold onto it for a while and not have to donate it or get rid of it because of moving. I also bought my first phone card for StraightTalk. I still have to add it to my phone, but I have a few more days to get that done.

I went to GNC and bought more energy drinks for the week. They had the flavor I wanted so it’s been nice this morning, sipping on the flavor I’ve wanted for a while. I went to Verizon to try to take care of my last phone payment, but they’re still sort of shutdown with covid. You have to wait outside to be helped, so I opted not to do that yesterday. I also went to Michael’s to see about getting some new fabric, but they literally had no fabric which I thought was weird for a craft store.

Since that was a bust I went to PetSmart to get cat litter and a small bag of cat food. The kittens are almost a year old. They’ll no longer need to eat kitten food and the 16 pound bag I bought a while ago is almost out. I wanted to get something new for them to try since finding a flavor they’ll both like might be a bit of a task. With how they were sniffing and chewing on the bag when I brought it into the room, I think I made a good choice.

I went ahead and got gas for my car, so that task is taken care of. I then came back to the apartment and made three trips up the stairs to get everything into the apartment. That’s after already working out. I totally let myself feel like a bawce for getting everything inside on my own and not waiting for Ox to get off work.

I assembled the bookcase. Ox came over as I was finishing it up. He anchored it to the wall and we began putting my things away. He took apart my computer desk. We moved the entertainment system and my TV and Playstation into my room. I also got the replacement bed set up; that was Monday night. My room got painted Sunday, so everything in my personal space is coming together nicely. I like it so far. I still have some things to do; going through this, finding a home for that… but for the most part, it’s ok enough for me to feel good about being in here. I like it.

The not so good stuff…

Jon and I fought Monday night. Sunday he cooked dinner and asked me to do the dishes. I loaded the dishwasher, taking out some of my pots that he had put in it. I want my pots hand-washed and I told him that shortly after he moved up here. He didn’t have to wash them if he didn’t want to. He could leave them for me to do since I know I’m kind of being weird about how I want my stuff taken care of, but please don’t put them in the dishwasher.

I didn’t say anything to him Sunday night. I took my pots out of the dishwasher and put them back in the sink. I took care of all of the other things, set the dishwasher to run, then went to bed since it was 8 and I had to be awake at 2. Already past my bedtime. I could finish washing the bigger things tomorrow when I got home.

When I did get home, Jon was in a mood. I couldn’t tell what was wrong. He helped carry the box that my bed was in upstairs. He said we needed to talk. When I asked what we needed to talk about he said he didn’t know how to talk to me. That left me feeling defeated and I hadn’t been home five minutes yet. I figured it had to do with the dishes. How dare I don’t be perfect and have everything completely done.

Jon showered, leaving me to stew in my own head for a while. We ended up sitting on the balcony.

He said that coming home and seeing dishes in the sink made him feel like he didn’t matter. Three pots and some minor dishes that couldn’t fit in the dishwasher made him feel like I didn’t care.

I asked if he noticed that I had done anything at all? Did he not notice that I ran the dishwasher? That I had loaded it and that I had told him he didn’t need to worry about my pots since I want them to be hand washed if they’re used? He said he hadn’t inspected the sink before he went to bed, only that he had gone to sleep with dishes in the sink and woke up to the same situation.

It made me feel like nothing I do or did mattered. It wasn’t perfect so it wasn’t good enough.

When I asked if being here was better than Florida he said, no, it’s not.

That hurt. A lot. We kept fighting, neither of us listening to the other person anymore. My effort wasn’t good enough. Taking his dog out for him didn’t matter. Paying for all of the groceries didn’t mean I cared. Letting him use the paint and supplies I had bought didn’t mean anything…

It sucked. I sucked and was just as bad as his previous roommate even though I’ve been doing all of these things to prove that I’m not her.

The argument was a bit of a breaking point for me. If nothing I do proves anything, then fuck it. I moved all of my things out of the living room and into my room. I like it more this way. I, personally, feel more secure. I am surrounded by my things. Things I have spent money on or gifts I have kept over the years. These things matter to me enough to have them and I want to be near them and now I am.

Jon and I didn’t talk yesterday. We work together today for 8 hours. I’m concerned about it being a shitty work environment. Shortly after I woke up I sent Jon some messages.

Me: Are we ok enough to work together?

I still intend to take Queeni out before coming in. If you want the computer chair and the floor mat you can have them. I’m no longer going to have a computer desk in my room. If you don’t want them I’ll take care of them tomorrow so they’re no longer in the living space.

I was thinking of getting a small trash can / trash bag that sits on the cabinet doors like the towel racks so it’s easier to throw small things away while we’re cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. Would you be opposed to trying something like that?

We can still get the paint tonight if you’re still interested in having your room painted.

I don’t think it was fair for you to say being here isn’t better than Florida. If that’s your honest opinion there’s not much I can do to change that other than continue trying my best. I’m not Casandra. I’m me and I love you. I’m also human just like you are. Neither of us are perfect and nothing in life is ever going to be perfect, including the sink and dishes. That doesn’t mean either of us are invalid or that we don’t matter to each other.

I haven’t gotten a reply from him yet. I don’t think I will. I’ve made my peace though.

If three pots make him feel like I don’t care or love him, that’s his own internal issue that I can’t help or solve or fix. Every time I try to do something he lets his inner voice tear it down.

My goal is no longer to try to make him feel like he matters, which may sound harsh when read at face value to taken out of context. No one can “make” you feel something. I don’t “make” him feel valued or unvalued. He does. I will continue trying my best to do the things I say I’m going to do, but the purpose of that is to remain honest, dependable, and truthful, not to make him happy or feel loved.

Only he can allow himself to feel or not feel those things, and I have no control over that, just like he has no control over me allowing myself to feel like a failure and an awful sister because his opinion is that the living situation here is as bad or worse than where he was.

I am not a failure. I am not an awful sister and I’m not going to give him the power to make me feel that way.

So that’s where I’m at today. I’ve done a lot of things in regard to self-care and reflection. I’m done trying to make people feel a certain way because it’s a pointless, futile endeavor. Instead, I will continue to do the things I feel align with my core values and priorities and not hold myself accountable or responsible for how other people choose to react or not react to those actions.

I feel ok today. I feel like I’m closer to myself than I have been in a while. I’m hoping today at work doesn’t suck, and if it does, hopefully, I can have enough space tomorrow to let it go. I have another session at the gym at 5am on Thursday. I’m looking forward to it. It’s a good feeling. Prioritizing myself feels good.

I feel Jon has a lot of work to do internally. He has issues with self-worth and that’s not something someone else can fix or help with. That’s his mentality, and so I’m done trying to do something I can’t do. All I can do is be me so that’s what I’m going to do.

Daily Post 219: A Different Kind of Day

Hey Chromebook,

Today is a much different day than yesterday. It’s weird how one thing can change so much.

I did eventually start working on stuff. It helped that Ox came over. It seems easier to do things when he’s here. I showered and started laundry. I took care of the dishes. We had a cigerette before leaving to do grocery shopping. While we were standing around, I cleaned out my car.

We started at Costco where Ox renewed his membership with Mama Ox. I signed up for my own membership with Jon, so grocery shopping doesn’t hinge on Ox being there. We went to Super Saver for the small things on the shopping list and Walgreens for the Starburst water packets. Those things are amazing, btw.

We came back to the apartment and got the walls ready for painting. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it today. Maybe Sunday but I guess that really depends on how the next two days at work go.

I figured out what I want to do with my computer desk. I figured out the replacement bed I want since I had to throw my mattresses out. It’s a folding mattress that can turn into a couch. Not a futon, with a frame and everything, but sort of like a floor sofa that can become a queen mattress.

That should be here Tuesday. My computer desk alternatives should be delivered Monday. It would be good to get the painting done on Sunday so I can start putting my room back together. It would be nice for my room to be the way I want it; envision it. If I’m going to be here for a few years I want it to be something I look forward to coming home to; something I enjoy being in. Something that reflects my minimalist mindset and the space I enjoying giving myself rather than the cluttered, disorganized disaster I feel trapped in.

Lately, I’ve been running into the issue of even if I wanted to cross-stitch, I don’t have the type of space I would want to do it. The living room is “alright” but it’s not the warm fuzzy feeling of “rightness”. At least not yet. Same with my room. With an air mattress that has a leak we can’t find, it’s hard to be comfy for any length of time. I think it’s starting to affect my sleep as well.

Anywho… so yesterday there were a lot of things that I couldn’t really do anything about other than wait and that sucked. Eventually, Ox and I got a message about D&D being canceled. Because of that, he suggested that we go check out one of the gyms close to the apartment. I was against it at first. After much insistence from Ox, I called and set up my free workout for 5:30. I needed to be there around 5:15 to get a tour of the facility and talk to one of the coaches.

It ended up being an awesome workout. I did way better than I thought I would. They have heart rate monitors that you wear during your workout and your stats are displayed on screens. When I first put mine on my heart rate was already displaying pretty high.

Me: Well… there’s anxiety in real-time.

I was super nervous about going. There were row machines. I didn’t know how my incision would handle rowing. I didn’t know how my legs would handle cardio. I didn’t know how I would handle being around a bunch of people I didn’t know while feeling like a failure because I haven’t worked out in months and I suck.

While I most likely won’t get a membership with this location because they’re super expensive and not really geared towards MMA stuff, it was extremely validating to go and realize I don’t suck as much as I thought I did. Honestly… I don’t suck at all. Maybe a little behind on endurance, but not by much.

I’m sort of sore today, but to be fair, I haven’t moved around a whole lot yet. I’m not as sore as I was worried I would be. It’s that right level of soreness. Not too much, but not too little. That, too, is validating. Dagger is doing a good job of making sure I take it easy and recover by giving cat cuddles.

I think I’m ok with a chill day of not a whole lot. Maybe some meal prep. Maybe lunch out with Ox. No deep, dark questions about, “am I broken?” No pressure to complete an unrealistic to-do list. Just a bright, sunny, summer day where I enjoy the fact that I’m here and respect the knowledge that “here” is a long way from where I was four years ago.

I’m doing alright and I’m ok with that.

Daily Post 218: The Interrupted Writing

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Never got a chance to finish this writing yesterday

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Hey Chromebook,

I’m low energy today… story of my life it seems.

Yesterday was pretty good. The days previous were also pretty good. I worked with my FA on Friday. I worked with a float nurse on Saturday and even though she hadn’t been at our clinic in a while, it was a pretty good day. Sunday I spent most of the day sleeping and didn’t give myself shit for it. It was nice. Monday I worked with the float nurse again and, again, had a decent day.

Tuesday’s counseling was decent. I felt better after the session and got a bunch of cleaning done.

The apartment is still a mild disaster from having to empty the rooms for the bedbug guy. I haven’t put a lot of my stuff away since I want to paint my room. Sort of silly to put everything back just to move it again only to have to put it back yet again…

While I know logically it’s the smarter thing to do, my brain is having a hard time with it. Everything is a mess and it’s like sandpaper in on the inside of my skull.

Ox and I had plans to paint yesterday. But sexy time happened instead. It was very much needed, but it left me emotionally raw afterward. And I guess that, too, is part of the story of my life recently. When we have moments like that it tears away all of the superficial bullshit layers of my life. All of the stress of the mundane things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. It allows all of those walls and distractions to come down and I’m left face to face with the core of who I am and what’s really underneath the surface; down in the dark quietness.

I realized something yesterday. I don’t think I’m as ok as I pretend to be; as I think I am.

I had the realization that if Ox died, I wouldn’t want to fight and struggle to figure it all out all over again. I would want to call it quits and tell Life it won and just give up. It was rather sobering.

My life shouldn’t hinge on another person, but at the moment I think it does and that’s not fair or right to Ox. He can be and is a support, but he shouldn’t be the one factor that keeps me going.

I realized that mortality is also probably the real reason I haven’t had an interest in actually finding another person for us to play with. I don’t mind being part of a D&D group, but the thought of forming a deep, close bond with another person is a hard “no” inside my head because I know on some level they’ll ultimately die and I would have do deal with the loss.

And so that’s where I am today. Wondering if I’m as healed as I’ve been thinking I am. Am I still weak? Am I still broken? Will I ever be “normal” again? Why is mom’s death affecting me so deeply that after four years the one bond I’ve allowed myself to form could be my undoing? Is that the type of person I want to be? Is that who I really am?

It’s confusing and it’s tiring. It makes me feel like I’m still just pretending at my life and going through the motions rather than actually dealing with the things that need to be addressed. The things deep down that really matter like my grief.

I know my grief is more of a spiritual issue rather than a logical one. I know I still need to find the motivation to care for myself again like going to the gym. How do you find motivation when you’re constantly tired? When life is constantly throwing other shit at you that needs to be addressed before the other things on your to-do list?

Yesterday, after counseling, I felt ready for battle. I was ready to start tackling all of the different areas in my life, one at a time, starting with my room. I don’t feel that right now.

I could start with putting some of the clothes away then move on to repacking some things…

Daily Post 217: Hello Again

Hello again, Chromebook.

It’s nice to be sitting in front of you. It’s nice to have my fingertips moving over your keyboard. It’s sunny outside. Warm. A nice day. A decent day. I’m supposed to be painting Jon’s bathroom, but here I am instead, spending some time with you first. I have all day to paint. I only have a few hours of alone time where I can talk to you; with you. With myself, really.

Things are going better. I’m into week two of being on Zoloft again. I think it’s helping. Ox and I had a failed date day on Tuesday. Tuesday was a pretty rough and shitty day. Instead of playing D&D I went to sleep. I think I was better for it.

I woke up to a text message from Jon.

Jon: I can’t help but feel like something is making you super sad. I want to support you but don’t know how. Please let me know.

I didn’t reply to that text message. Instead, I spent most of Wednesday low energy. Not negative like so many days previously. But low. I plucked away at small things. Running the dishwasher. Unloading it. Loading it again once I could. I received an email from someone in London asking for help getting my old scripts to run. I was able to help him and it was an extremely bright spot in my day.

Ox eventually got off work. He helped take the trash and cardboard out. We finished getting Jon’s bathroom ready for painting. We finished the puzzle we were working on. I made lunch for us. Turkey wraps. We cuddled a few times in between chores. Towards the end, we had sexy time and it was more connective than I had thought it would be. I was worried about feeling alone afterward; cold and… alone. I don’t know if that word can really fully describe the soul-crushing, horrifically aching lostness that sometimes hijacks my brain. But that’s the only word I have.

It wasn’t that though. While physically it was amazing, on a spiritual, human level it was exactly what I didn’t know I needed. I’m glad Ox and I worked through the fear I felt to have that type of moment together. I’m grateful that he took time out of his day, his life, to be with me and to help me feel his words, “It will be ok.”

I’m better today. I had another message from the person in London. He shared some parts of his story with me and I in turned shared parts of mine. It was connective and it’s another thing I’m grateful for. He didn’t have to share those details about his life with me, but in doing so it’s allowed both of us to be human; real. We’re not picture-perfect images. There’s a lot of unknown battles and struggles and that’s usually a more significant part of who we are as people than the successes we’ve easily attained.

I don’t know if there’s a lot going on today. Painting for sure. I think Ox and I are going to try to take two of date day now that we’re both in better moods. He has raid today so he won’t be staying with me, but he stayed last night and it was nice having a good morning kiss before he left for work.

I work with my FA tomorrow. It’s the first time in months that we’ll be on the floor together. We’re both looking forward to it. I found out so more information about what’s going on with upper management. I’m more confident in the notion that my FA currently does not have a plan to leave. At least not yet. That makes work feel a smidgin more stable which helps with everything else.

The apartment complex has scheduled a chemical treatment for the bed bugs. Jon and I are responsible for the cost of the treatment. That sucks, but it’s not a heat treatment, so it could be way worse than what it seems like it’s going to be. They’re going to be here after 1pm tomorrow. That gives Jon and Ox enough time to get off work and to take the pets out of the apartment. Since covid is going on, we’re not able to board them anywhere, and with everyone working, we didn’t know what we were going to do.

That seems slightly figured out, though, and more do-able. The pets are taken care of. The bed bug issue is being addressed. I should have a fairly smooth day at work tomorrow. The apartment is coming along and Jon and I have had some pretty deep conversations so we feel more ok than what we were.

Last night after he got home, we sat outside on the balcony and talked. I explained what depression was like for me, why it was affecting me currently the way it is, and that what I needed from him was for him to let me do whatever it is/was I was doing.

If I’m not hungry, don’t pressure me to eat. If I want to be alone and dip out of social obligations, don’t make me feel bad for doing it. If I seem to be sleeping a lot, let me sleep. I don’t need intervention. My “no”s aren’t “yes”s that need convincing. With so much uncertainty going on in multiple areas of my life, I need space and time to figure out not only my emotions regarding those situations but what choices and courses of action I want to take with them. I can’t figure those things out around people, and that inner soul-searching work is usually exhausting and nauseating in some instances.

I will eat when I’m hungry. As I have energy, I’ll get things done. I’m on the road to being better, but some days are still going to be better than others and the best thing he can do on the “down” days is to let me be down.

I think that’s it for today, Chromebook. I feel like I’m on solid ground today. I feel like I can feel accomplished by doing things, so I want to do them. Hopefully, I’ll be able to talk to you again soon.

Daily Post 216: Rambling About Nothing Important

Hello Chromebook,

It’s been a while…

I started writing a letter to mom, but that got interrupted by an emergent phone call from work. It got me extra hours. I didn’t have to use PTO to meet my 40. That was nice. I got to go to the clinic where Jon is training and see him on the floor. He’s doing well. And that’s not just me being a proud sister. That’s me as an experienced tech evaluating someone who is in training. He’s going to be fine, just like I thought and hoped he would.

So many things have happened, dearest Chromebook. Life has been crazy. Not just with a pandemic and now rioting and such. Personal life has been in flux. Constantly changing, constantly something new to figure out or adjust to… On top of that, the weather has been miserable, cold, rainy, cloudy… It’s made things harder than they normally would or should have been.

For a while, I was off of Zoloft. Things were going well. I felt awesome. It was sunny. I felt like I could handle the few things that were going on. And then it changed and I wasn’t ok again. It was subtle at first. Then worse. Then worse. Then worse until even I had to admit that I wasn’t doing well and maybe going back onto the medication would be beneficial.

I’ve been on it for about five days. I think it’s already started to build up into my system. Things don’t seem as bad or hopeless. Thoughts of self-harm are no longer there. I’m sleeping better. I’m performing well at work again. And finally, it’s sunny and warm outside.

I know it hasn’t been much time. Maybe it’s all in my head and simply a change in my perspective, but regardless of what is or isn’t causing me to be more ok, I’m grateful for it. I’m still low energy today, but it’s not a day where I wake up in the negative and have to struggle and fight to convince myself that it’s worth the effort to accomplish even the most minor of tasks.

I have counseling in an hour. I’m going to have to use you, Chromebook, instead of my desktop. Ox has my beast since his computer is having issues.

I don’t mind. You accomplish the things that I need to do at the moment. D&D will be interesting, but I feel like we can accomplish it together.

Counseling hasn’t been very productive the past few times. Mostly because I haven’t been able to self-reflect and so I don’t know what I need or should be talking about; working through. The last session was better. I’m hoping for this one to be productive as well. I’ll be able to continue my counseling sessions even though I’m not taking any classes this summer. That was news I was grateful to receive.

Since my sessions are through a service provided by my school I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to continue having them. Not the case though.

The game plan is still to go back to school in the fall for the LPN program. A lot of that feels sort of nebulous, though. Things are changing at work. Our regional operations director left a few months back. A new person took his place. A lot of my mentors are leaving the company now. My FA said she doesn’t have a new job lined up and can’t leave until June 11th. That doesn’t mean she’s staying. There was no, “I’m not going anywhere.” Sometimes what’s not said is more important that what is said and I feel this is one of those times.

I’ve already talked to Jon.

Me: Would you be super pissed if I left the company?

That led to a pretty extensive conversation yesterday evening after I got home from work. One of the things I said was how most people quit their boss not their job. If my FA leaves and some super bitchy person gets hired into her position I don’t want to feel stuck. That’s why I didn’t use the financial assistance my work offered for school. I don’t want to be trapped in an environment that slowly kills me.

There’s a lot of “What ifs” in regards to work and I won’t know how any of it turns out for a while. Jon is supportive of me making the choices that are best of my own well being. I assured him if I left, I wouldn’t do so without having something else lined up; ideally something better.

So we’ll see how that goes. There’s a part of me that aches at the thought of leaving. What would happen to my patients? Who would take care of them? They’re the ones who are going to suffer the most if management and staff changes and that’s not fair to them.

For the moment I want to leave those issues alone. There’s nothing I can do about the future other than letting it happen. I have no intention of going anywhere at the moment, and though there are management positions open now, I don’t think I will pursue them. Not when everyone I care about is leaving those positions. They’re leaving because the positions no longer align with their core values. That doesn’t seem like something I would want to step into.

Ox and I are doing better. For a while, we weren’t, more because of me then because of anything he was or wasn’t doing. I suffered from a 6.5 kidney stone for three weeks. The average size is typically 4mm or smaller. Anything higher than that, the ER usually hospitalizes you for. Of course, I was stubborn as fuck and didn’t go to the ER… Choosing instead to writhing on my bedroom floor in agony while dry heaving so hard I couldn’t breathe.

That was a Saturday evening. By Tuesday when the stone hasn’t passed I went to my primary care doctor. We decided to give it more time to move on its own. When it hadn’t he referred me to a urologist. They took x-rays. It was close to passing. Hold out just a little longer… A week later and another x-ray… It hasn’t moved. Time for our next option… Fuck my life…

I was being scheduled for surgery when it finally passed. Throughout that time I had waves of pain that typically required hydrocodone to manage. Though I had a doctor’s note saying I should not return to work until my symptoms went away, the clinic was so short-staffed that I had to work multiple times during those three weeks. It was awful. I was miserable and everyone around me knew it.

Luckily, I didn’t have to have surgery. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to pee in my life. The stone was tested. Calcium oxalate. Basically, I need to drink more water. I knew I was doing poorly with eating and drinking. With all of the other crap going on at the time with Jon moving and work being crazy, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I didn’t want to drink water. The thought of foods and liquids made me nauseous. I didn’t want to do anything other than not be around people, but that wasn’t an option so I did the best I could.

Well… my body wasn’t ok with my best and created the spawn of Satan to show me its displeasure. This kidney stone made my first one look like child’s play. I never knew when waves of pain would come, so I was in constant fear and anxiety over going out to do anything. I didn’t want to drive because what if a wave of pain happened while I was behind the wheel? The pain was always worse at night and so most of the time I only had 30 minutes to an hour of sleep before having to go to work.

Thankfully, that phase is over. I’ve been doing better about drinking. Still having a hard time with food. Most of the time I eat a protein bar or something small. Things seem to sit heavier on my stomach lately and I don’t like that feeling.

Since I have been feeling a bit better health-wise, if not emotionally, Ox and I had date night this past Sunday. Things are beginning to open back up again so we were able to have a nice sit-down lunch at a local restaurant. That evening, we worked on a puzzle we’ve had for a while. We’re almost done with it. Ox and I have plans to go out this afternoon once he’s off work. We’ve slept next to each other a few nights this week. It’s been nice to be near him.

Things have been sort of crazy with the kids due to the pandemic. We’ve had them more than normal and that, along with everything else, also throws off the reassurance I get from our “normal” routines. We’re still not really sure what’s going to happen in that regard, but Ox and I are both making a conscious effort to invest a bit more time into “us”.

Jon and I are doing well. My dad received a bonus from work again. The first time he got hazard pay he sent it to me and Jon to help us out with the move and settling into the new apartment. He did the same again last night. Jon is letting me keep most of his share to catch up on the money he owes me. He was unemployed for about a month and then had to wait a while before he started getting paychecks. I covered most of his expenses during that time with the stimulus money Ox and I received.

Jon intends to pay me back, and this is a step towards that. It makes me feel better about covering for him. I wish all the other times I covered for people were like this. Where it was worth it and didn’t fuck me over.

The financial game plan has changed a little. Since the three of us, Ox, Jon, and me, are in this together, it makes sense to look at all of our situations. Jon’s car is just as close to being paid off as mine, yet his car payment is nearly twice as much. Currently, we’re planning on paying off his car first. The amount I help payoff he will then start paying towards my car, and once that is done, we’ll snowball it into Ox’s car. If there’s a second stimulus check we could have all three cars paid off in a year, giving all of us nearly $1000 extra dollars to work with each month.

It could be an amazing situation. That would help out significantly when I go back to school and potentially cut my hours down to part-time. It’s another situation of waiting and seeing how everything lines up.

Financially, other things are going alright. I finally switched my phone over to StraightTalk which saves me $30 a month on my phone bill. Car insurance has been super cheap since my company has reimbursed part of my payments for the past two months. With people staying home and not driving as much, there haven’t been as many accidents and claims filed. My company is passing those savings onto its customers. I think that’s pretty awesome of them.

I received roughly $500 from my old apartment. That’s the security deposit and a bit of rent for the month since someone moved in during May.

While all of this money sounds awesome. I’ve been spending some of it so I don’t have millions of dollars sitting in my account. I’ve bought stuff for the kittens. A litter mat that they can’t chew on, a water fountain, cat dishes so they don’t have to get out of my plastic food containers anymore. I got a new shower curtain since I painted the bathroom; Summer Dragonfly. It’s the same color I had in Orlando. It makes a part of my brain happy seeing it. I am looking forward to painting the bedroom and getting blackout curtains so I can sleep in darkness once again.

I got a new phone case which I love. It’s a bright teal color. I don’t know why that color brings me peace but it does. I love holding the case in my hand and just… holding that color.

I signed up for a Spartan race… or rather… I spent $90 on gear and have a passcode that will allow me to sign up for a race between now and December of next year. I haven’t trained for so long. I know I’m nowhere near where I was. I’ve started doing yoga as a way to try to get back into the swing of things. Stretching has been nice. It took me nearly all of the first session to get my heels to touch the ground during downward dog, but I got there. The second session was better. I could go deeper into the stretches and it didn’t take my muscles as long to loosen up.

I think I’m all done writing for now, Chromebook. I know there’s so much more to work through, talk about, figure out, but I’m sort of done for now. Thanks for letting me talk about nothing important.

Oh! And here’s a picture of Dagger, ruining date night with his cuteness.

Tiny Tiger Demands Attention

Musing Moments 146: D&D – Saber Ishaan

This is the origin story for my teifling sorceress rogue, Saber Ishaan.

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I didn’t begin learning about myself until “that night”. Sometimes I still wake from nightmares of it, screaming, though it has been several years. I can remember it so clearly. Every detail. The city streets, the smells, the hunger, the fear. That night began no different than any other. The darkness marked my waiting. Waiting for the light to come back so I could be safer. Bad things lived in darkness. Bad things happened in darkness.

I had found a rubbish pile that night in an ally. I had thought I would be safe there. Hidden. I could wait out the bad things and see the bright circle again. I could wait and not be found. If only I had known how wrong I was.

I heard them before I saw them. Their footsteps heavy and voices loud as they stumbled drunkenly through the ally. I could smell the alcohol wafting from them.

I don’t know how they found me. Maybe it was my breathing. Maybe my silent tears weren’t as silent as I thought. Maybe they heard the pleas I was crying out inside my head. I don’t know. I don’t know what I did wrong, but they didn’t pass me by.

No. They found me. They pulled me from the rubbish that was my cover. They dragged me for where I should have been safe, sneering and laughing. They pulled at my horns and tail. I remember their words though at the time I didn’t understand them. Teifling whore. Devil witch. I tried to get away, to run, to find new shelter, but I couldn’t. There were more of them than me, and they were strong, well-fed men. What could a weak, street urchin child hope to do against them?

One of them grew tired of my struggling. He hit me with the back of his hand. I tasted blood as my ears rang and searing pain filled my vision with whiteness.

It were as if that first hit were the breaking of a floodgate. They all began to hit me, slap me, pushing me among themselves as if I were a toy. I remember their sickening laughter. I remember one saying he didn’t know devils could bleed. They hit me, over and over and over. And when I could no longer stand, crumbling to the ground in defeat, they began to kick me. I remember one finely crafted boot landed on my stomach, causing me to retch out what little food I had managed to steal for my dinner that night.

They did such horrible things to me as they laughed. I remember that the most; their laughter, as if my pain was a game to them. My suffering a thing to bring them joy.

Through all of it, I cried out in pain, begging them to stop. I screamed and sobbed until the pain was too much; until my voice was too hoarse and raw to beg or plead or cry. I became silent and still, my body either unable or unwilling to continue trying. As I lay on the ground covered in dirt, sweat, tears, and my own blood, I gave up and I accepted that I would die under their boots.

It didn’t matter if I struggled or fought back. It didn’t matter if I cried or begged or screamed. I thought about how I had never wronged anyone and yet here I was, being beaten to death by strangers merely because I looked different.

No one was going to save me. No one in this awful city cared. Not even my parents had cared. I was alone, had always been alone, and would die alone. Because I was a teifling. Because I didn’t matter. None of it mattered. My feelings. My pain. My struggle. My loneliness. My fear.

I don’t matter… That was the final thought I had before “the change” happened.

I don’t know what changed exactly as I lay there dying. All I know is that something did. It felt like something inside me woke as I died; as they spat on me. As they kicked me. As they hated me.

Rage. I remember rage, slowly at first, a soft hint of anger that grew with each passing second of laughter. Rage with boiled and seethed until it was an all consuming fury.

You DO matter! That was what my fury screamed at me in a voice so loud it drowned out the laughter and pain.

They do not deserve to kill you. They, these strangers, do not deserve to be your end. You have fought for too many meals. You have survived too many nights of darkness for these drunken bastards to be your end. You are strong. Your life matters. Win. Fight. LIVE! Show them what you are. Show them what you want!

That burning feeling of fury clawed its way into my lungs as if it were a living thing, giving me the air to screech one final word at my attackers; a word which filled the night, echoing off the ally walls and defeating the sickening laughter.

“STOP!” I shrieked with every fiber of my being. I flung that single word at them as if it were a sword, burning with all of my anger, rage, and fury.

Their laughter turned to screams as blinding light in the form of a glorious sun-fire sword filled the ally, slashing their faces and burning their eyes, scaring them forever. They ran from me, stumbling, screaming, howling in pain like beaten curs.

I remember their screams and the smell of burning flesh as I stayed on the ground. I wanted to hide. I wanted to run. I wanted to be safe. I wanted the sword that had saved me to come back and be by my side for forever. But the sword was no longer there with its warm, brilliant light and I could no longer feel my body. I could no longer feel the ground under me. I could no longer feel my pain. I could feel… nothing… and everything… seemed so very… very… far away…

The aftermath of my first magic is a story for a different time. This specific moment, however, this specific night, is where I began learning about myself and why I cherish it so much even though it still terrifies me in my dreams. That night, I learned I didn’t have to die. That night, I learned I could fight back. “That night” was when I and my story truly began.

Daily Post: More Clouds QQ

This might be a sort of whiny post. It’s overcast again. AGAIN. I miss the sun. It came out for a little bit yesterday afternoon. Tons of people were outside with their kids. Bikes. Strollers. It was as if everyone were soaking up the rays as much as they could.

I know I felt that way. I could feel a difference in my skin. In my bones. Almost instant. I finally was getting sunlight and could feel alive and like I had energy and drive to do things. The Earth was finally awake and able to give energy; radiating it into my being and allowing me to feel like I could do things.

It’s not supposed to be sunny again until Sunday. Friday and Saturday are supposed to be filled with thunderstorms. I like the thought of storms. At least there’s energy with them and a reason for the lack of sun until this perpetual twilight of cloud cover.

These long, dreary, cloudy days of stillness drag on and on and it feels so hard to get anything accomplished. I woke up at 4 am and went back to sleep after taking my Synthroid. I woke up again at 8 am and couldn’t convince myself to do anything, so I stayed in bed until 10 am.

I feel like the day is wasted and it’s not even noon. I wish I knew how to change that. I can’t go to the gym since it’s closed. I could begin packing but I have to get the totes from the house first, which means I have to clean out the car so the totes could fit.

I have to take the kittens in for boarding later. I’m saving the mopping until after their gone. I have my report that needs to be worked on. Clothes still need to be put away. Meal prepping would be beneficial so I have food for the next days before flying to Florida.

There are all these things I’m “shoulding” on myself, which isn’t helping or making me feel better. Ox thinks I should still be taking my Vitamine D supplements. I might talk to my Endocrinologist about it. I stopped taking it pre-surgery per doctor’s orders but was never told if I could resume it, so I didn’t. I never asked.

Things were going so well post-surgery, and now I’m back to feeling unmotivated and low energy. I do think a lot of it has to do with the weather. I think stress is playing into it as well. There are travel bans from certain states going into Florida. So far Nebraska isn’t one of them. So far there aren’t travel bans coming back into Nebraska. But who knows how things will change in the next week? Who knows if I’ll be able to go back to work or not? Who knows what other obstacles Jon and I are going to have to figure out in regards to moving and the apartment? What if all his interviews get canceled because of covid-19? At least we have two months rent-free to figure something out I suppose. That did work well in our favor.

I did have a fairly decent day yesterday. Productive. There are feelings of accomplishment as I look back over my list; another thing which has been hit or miss in the past few weeks.

I got a lot done in the morning. Setting up the electicity and internet. Filling out the move in form and emailing it to Jon so he could fill out his portion. Taking care of my Jury Duty letter and getting my new certification form to my FA. Figuring out what to do with the cats so I don’t get evicted during my last weeks here. I looked at student loan consolication through Navy Federal, but I don’t think I’m going to do anything with it. My interest rate could actually go up rather than down, so I’ll stick with the evil I currently have.

I made a few new contacts in my phone for my pharmacy and the vet clinic. I found out about my Zoloft perscription. I could pick that up later today when I go over to the house. I went through my email. I read a bunch of blog posts that I’ve been slacking on. I wrote. I posted. I made a shopping list and was pleased to see it was so small. I got in touch with my therapist as well. Counseling is canceled for the moment until they figure out how they want to do it remotely.

I showered before heading into town to meet with Ox. We got gas for the cars. We got the money order for my recertification paperwork along with spinach; the only grocery item I needed. We got cat litter and wet food for the kittens. While we were at the pet store we made sure all of the paperwork was in place for the boarding. Since it’s $22 per cat per day, I won’t be able to board them until the 1st of April. Not that I really wanted to do that anyway. I don’t want to be away from them for that long. I can’t swing $300 for boarding though, so even if I was morally ok with doing it, financially I can’t.

When we got back to the house, I hopped on my computer to update my sorcerous character through the Aurora program. While I was messing aroung with her sheet, I got to talk to the DM and brainstorm with him a bit. I did end up taking one level in rogue. Since most of my spells are spectral weapons, I get to use the rogue’s sneak attack to boost their damage as long as I’m stealthed or hidden. Since my character has expertise in stealth I get added bonuses to my stealth rolls. I’m really liking the direction that this character is going. I hide in the shadows then leap out in a blaze of righteous glory. Maybe I should have named her Karma instead of Saber.

Anywho, I got my CCHT paperwork mailed off, so that’s 100% done. I can submit the Concur reports when I go to work tomorrow. I should have that money back within a week or so.

Ox and I did our D&D campaign together at the house. There were another few hours wasted as the DM tried to figure things out, but once we got into the actual game it was better. I don’t feel like it was a waste of time and there was significantly less bickering.

I came back to the apartment after the game and went to sleep, and that’s about all that’s happened so far today.

I’ve started in on my meal prep, more out of necessity then because I actually want to do it. Ox and I have talked a few times. I’ve put music on so that’s been playing in the background. I’ve filled out some more paperwork. I’ve done some dishes.

I’m hoping that I can salvage today despite the rough start.