Daily Post 055: No Title

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I’m not going to bother going back and looking at my last post. I don’t remember when it was. I don’t remember what was going on in my life at the time. I’m also not going to name this post because I know it’s going to be all over the place.

This is me trying to untangle the giant ball of emotions that I’ve let form inside me. This post and all of the ups and downs I’ve had over the past few months I feel are a result of not taking proper emotional care of myself.

I am now officially a college student… again. I start classes January 9th. At the moment I will only be taking General Biology. My advisor wants me to contest one of the classes I didn’t receive transfer credit for since it’s a higher level psychology than the General Psychology I need for my program. It would save me about $500 if it gets accepted and push me further into the program than I currently am. I haven’t tackled the whole “contesting” issue yet, but it’s on the to-do list for the not so distant future. At the moment I’m a bit burnt out of troubleshooting through school issues.

Registering for classes was a bitch and a half. The whole “It’s a one-click step” turned into a message of “Oh, it looks like you didn’t sign up for you Student Success class. Go do that before you enroll in other classes.”

Irrational Right Brain: I’m about to fucking flip shit if I have to take a “This is how you succeed in college” class when I already have a bachelors degree. I don’t need to be taught how to succeed in college because I’ve already done it. /sets computer on fire

I took a screenshot of the message and sent it to my advisor saying “Please advise”.

It took about 19 other steps to actually get my submission through. A few days later I checked and found out that my request was accepted.

So yeah… I’m officially working towards my RN.

It’s a good feeling while at the same time it sucks. It makes me miss mom. It makes me hurt. It makes me feel a lot of things. For most of the month or however long it’s been since I’ve written a lot of my time has been spent trying to deal with emotions. Or at least tend to them enough to not drown in them.

I’ve had a lot of downs and hard days lately. I think part of that, a large part of it, has to do with how the seasons are changing to the cold months. The rest months. The months were everything slows down. I understand why we need these months and I respect them, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them or that they’re easy for me.

I wake up cold. There isn’t as much sunlight. It’s not my season and I can feel it like sandpaper under my skin.

I think not being able to workout as much as I want/am used to has a lot to do with it as well. I go to work before the sun is up. I leave after the sun has set. I stay in the same room all day. I’m constantly tending to the needs of others.

Days I work are days where I have almost no time to care for myself. I have no solitude time. I have no destress time. I wake up, work, come home, try to sleep. Those are my work days and so I don’t think they’re helping make this already hard time of the year any easier.

It’s also turning into the holiday season which feels like an added dose of alcohol to the salt already being scrubbed into an infected wound. I have to figure out what to do for Thanksgiving and Christmas and my birthday and New Years, all without mom.

Two Fridays ago I didn’t go to work. I woke up and knew for the first time since I started working at the clinic that I was going to call out and that it didn’t matter if they couldn’t replace me on the floor, I wasn’t going in.

I was sad. It was going to be a 16 hour day. I could either not go in and cover my shift on Saturday, or go in and quit halfway through my shift. And not an “I’m sick and going home” type of quit. It would have been an “I’m not giving two weeks notice. Fuck you guys. I’m not coming back,” type of quit.

I didn’t have it with me that day and I didn’t care. Life showed up to the battlefield ready to go and instead of putting on my armor and taking another beating I refused to show up. I didn’t run away. I didn’t cower in fear. I just gave zero fucks and didn’t show up to the fight because fuck you, Life.

It worked out that I was able to take the whole day to myself. I stayed at home and did literally nothing. I didn’t even change out of my pjs.

At the end of the night, as I was turning off the kitchen light to go back upstairs to my room, I paused and looked at mom’s urn. I thought about leaving but instead, I walked over to my china hutch, mom’s china hutch, and I put both of my hands on her urn.

Me: I promise I’ll do better tomorrow, mom.

From there I completely broke down into tears. I sank to my knees and wrapped my arms around the blue marble rectangle which holds the ashes of what used to be the most incredible person I have ever had the honor of meeting and sobbed until my chest ached from crying so hard.

I told her about work. I told her about loving my patients and hating my job. I told her about school. I told her about still not knowing what I want to do once I’m a nurse. I told her I’m sorry if I make her worry.

I didn’t really feel better after crying, but I felt a bit more stable. Sort of like I was on the path to feeling better.

I ended up researching different nursing positions later that night after I made it back to my room.

I’m looking further into holistic nursing. I think that’s the direction I want to go, though I still don’t know exactly how I would apply the things I want. I feel like I have most of the puzzle pieces and that now it’s a matter of putting them all together.

I did go to work the next day; Saturday. My teammates asked me if I was feeling better to which I replied no. No, I wasn’t, but I had promised I would make today better so I was at work and that in itself was an improvement.

They understood where I was emotionally and were extremely supportive of me.

I finally have taken the CVC class and am now officially a full member of the team. It’s nice knowing that I can be more helpful than not.

I’ve been going to therapy a lot more recently. I think that’s helping work through some things, and maybe I’ve written more recently than I think because I know I wrote about my “trust issues” session. That was only about three weeks ago, right? Something along those lines…

Kyle has moved in. We actually had dinner together last night when I got back from the dojo. He asked how I was doing having him as a roommate. Overall things have been going well. He’s still unemployed but is looking for work. He’s had a few interviews already. The few things that I can see potentially leading to issues later down the line we talked about, like how my computer is now in the dining room because my room is too small to have both a bed and computer desk in it. That means it’s not a very good work environment when he’s in the living room watching movies or talking to his friends via the PlayStation.

It sucks. It’s hard to not feel like a failure when it feels like I have downgraded so far in life.

I’m having to donate plasma to get enough extra money to cover my bills. I could go with the option of working 4 days a week instead, but since doing that on the last schedule had me contemplating self-harm almost every time I clocked out of work I don’t think it would be emotionally or spiritually healthy for me to do entertain that option.

One of the side effects of having to donate plasma is I have to be on top of my water intake as well as my iron and protein levels. It’s making me be more conscious of what I eat and how I’m taking care of myself. It’s making me choose between having a cigarette and not healing well enough to donate a second time or making money so I can buy groceries.

No. I don’t like getting stabbed with needles, but I can’t skim over the fact that there are a few positives to this avenue I’m choosing to take.

I went to the dojo last night. It’s the first time in a while that I’ve gone. I had mild anxiety over going. I pushed through it though and had a pretty good night. Everyone was extremely welcoming. I got to see Jim and Tommy. Caroline and Paul were there, too. It felt like coming home.

This past week I haven’t done much in the way of exercise and I could feel it in my body as we warmed up. I could feel my muscles protesting as I pushed them but also rejoicing as they were finally used and stretched. It was the first fundamentals class I’ve gone to. I enjoyed it. We practiced some techniques from mount which is a position I can get to, but I never know what to do once I’m there, so it was nice.

I felt like it was all stuff that was on my level and doable. Just new. There were only two rounds of sparring instead of three or five, which I was also ok with. I pushed hard during them. I was tapped out once by an armbar but the guy was super complimentary about my defense.

By the end of the session, I was done. Physically and emotionally. On the drive home I cried and screamed for the first time in a really long time. It was the first time in a while that I felt angry and so my screams were not only those of pain but also rage at the injustice of mom being dead.

It felt good to scream. It felt good to cry. It felt good to give in to all of those emotions that I keep having to work through. It’s the holidays. It’s winter. It’s hard. And instead of sucking it up I let all of those emotions have their time as I drove from the dojo to the pizza place where I was supposed to meet Kyle.

While we were at dinner I talked about my cry session. Kyle lets me talk without giving advice which I appreciate. Most of the time I don’t want advice. I just want someone to listen. I don’t need to be told it will be ok. I don’t need someone to tell me “they know how I feel”. I want to be able to vocally admit that in some areas of my brain things suck. These emotions exist. They are facts. I feel this way. I want it to be known. That’s all.

I want it to be like any other part of the conversation.

Me: Traffic sucked. The chick at work wouldn’t shut up. I miss mom. By the way, I’m in college again. How was your day?

Big Bad and I had date night Saturday. It was the first time in a while where we went out instead of staying at his place. We saw the new Thor movie and had dinner together. There was a little bit of sexy time when we got home, but mostly we cuddled together and talked about really deep stuff before going to sleep.

Lately, when I’ve played, which is how I refer to my BDSM sessions, I’ve had a very low pain tolerance. We talked about that which was where I genuinely admitted to things being hard emotionally.

I know I’ve told other people that things have been hard, but I always skim over it. I say it in a “yeah things are hard, but I’ll figure it out” sort of way.

When I told Big Bad it was hard I left it at that. Things are hard and I hurt. I didn’t put on a strong face. I didn’t try to cover up any of the pain. I just left it as it is/was. I hurt already. I really don’t want to hurt more. I would rather be held and feel warm and safe because so much of my life feels cold and nebulous right now.

He offered to cuddle which I gladly accepted.

Once we were snuggled under the covers in his bed we started talking again. He told me a fair amount of what’s going on in his life. His ex-wife isn’t being very nice. I’m grateful he talked to me. I’m glad we were able to connect on something other than a sexual level because that’s what it’s felt like recently. Because we see each other so limitedly a lot of our interactions are sexual.

This felt more emotional and I appreciated the difference. I needed the difference.

Earlier in the evening, we had to wait a few hours for the movie to start so we walked around some of the shops before going into the theater. At one point during our meandering we found a bench, so we sat for a while. I told him about school and he congratulated me while hugging me to his chest. He said he was proud of me.

I know he’s not mom, nor do I want him to be my parental figure, but it does mean a lot to me to hear those words from him. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt and I don’t know how else to explain it.

I know mom is proud of me. And as I write all of this I have those stupid, silent tears running down my cheeks making me more dehydrated.

I feel like I’ve been doing really well even though I don’t give myself a lot of credit. I feel like a slacker even though I know I’ve been taking care of Life. I’ve been problem-solving and trying to stay on top of my fitness and work and social life. I’ve been battling with the Evil Voice in my head that likes to whisper that I’m failing even when I know I’m not.

I’ve been hanging in there. Some days are a lot easier than others but so far I have woken up each day and made it to the end. I’ve survived every day and I’m not going to let the Evil Voice take away or diminish the level of accomplishment that is.

I didn’t get everything done on my to-do list today, but I did a lot and I’m happy with that. I go to work tomorrow, but I’ll be spending the evening with Big Bad so I have something to look forward to, and then Thursday and Friday are days off.

Working three days a week has been manageable. I’ve requested the week of my birthday off and was approved.

I know there’s a ton of other stuff I should write about, like how Mother Earth was hospitalized and was released only this evening, but I’m written out. I have no more tears for tonight. I’m back to being flatline rather than the chaotic mess I felt before.

I’m going to go see if Kyle will watch another episode of Stranger Things with me because that’s what we’ve been doing since he moved in. Until next time, thanks for listening.

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