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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Daily Post 053: This Feels Like a Long Post

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A lot has happened in the last week so I’m going to start this off with a bullet list so I can remember to write about everything.

Apartment – Fight with Warren, K moving in
Social Life – Big Bad, Blacksmith, Mother Earth, Nicole
Work – Certification, Praise from RN
Workout – Yoga, Running, Jumping, and a Busted Knuckle
School – Because that’s a thing

Alright.

So…

The apartment…

I mentioned in my last post that Warren and I got into a spat. We still haven’t spoken to each other. I think he purposely ignored my messages on Facebook last night asking for the printer, but that’s fine. I went into his office this morning and got it myself. I’m not going to let the silent treatment prevent me from printing papers for college. If he didn’t want me in his space he should have given me my printer when I asked for it.

I guess it was Wednesday last week. I worked that night. A sixteen-hour shift. I swept up dog fur and vacuumed on Sunday. I had also cleaned the kitchen. I was frustrated to come home and find dirty dishes in the sink with Warren not home because he was out hanging with his new girlfriend.

On top of going out to play before being what I consider an adult, I happened to look at my bank account for the first time in a while.

Warren hasn’t paid rent for the past three weeks.

The agreement, now that his job pays him weekly, is that every paycheck he makes a payment of $150.

He’s given nothing in three weeks and didn’t tell me anything about not paying me.

I was beyond pissed and betrayed feeling after finding that out in addition to still having to do his dishes.

I made myself a drink and sulked in the dark living room for a while. I had work the next day but was too spun up to sleep. Fuming silently seemed like a better investment of my time.

Warren ended up coming home while I was still in the living room. He asked if I was ok. I asked if he had planned to tell me that he hadn’t paid rent in three weeks. He said that hurricane Irma really messed with his finances. He said he had meant to tell me but that he kept forgetting. I said he could have sent me a text. He said it was something he wanted to discuss in person.

I asked him why I should renew the lease with him. In a solid year, he has yet to pay rent reliably and still doesn’t take care of his own responsibilities even though he’s repeatedly told me he would. What benefit is there for me to be his roommate?

He said he was sorry and that I would get my money. He went off to the kitchen and started doing whatever he did. I went up to my room and cried my eyes out because I was so frustrated.

Here I am, again, in a shitty living situation with a guy. Doesn’t matter that he’s not my significant other. I’m owed $8k and all of the promises of “I’ll pay you back” are still empty words that mean nothing.

Later that night I got a text message saying I would have “my money” by the end of the month. As of right now I still haven’t been paid.

I sent a reply to his text message.

Me: Tonight wasn’t about money. Tonight was about how I’ve told you since you’ve moved in to just let me know what’s going on and you still leaving me in the dark. It’s about me finally getting to the breaking point where I’m done feeling like I’m being used. If you’re not going to pay rent reliably then at least sweep and vacuum up the dog fur. Or load the dishwasher with the dishes. If you have enough energy to get a new car and go out with people then you have five minutes to clean up after yourself before you go have fun.

I didn’t get a reply to my message until the following day at work. Warren sent me a novel of a message through Facebook saying I’m a hypocrite and dropping curse words all over the place.

Since I haven’t been able to think of anything nice to say to him I haven’t said anything at all. As far as I’m concerned at the moment he can go burn in hell.

I’m not his mother. I’m not going to remind him, weekly, that he has a dog. He’s had one for at least four years. Long before moving in with me. He doesn’t “forget” to feed Burno. He doesn’t forget to take the dog outside to use the bathroom. “Forgetting” that his dog shreds like a German Shepard is an excuse to be lazy.

I’m not going to say, “Now, Warren. Remember to sweep the hallway. And don’t forget to brush your teeth before you go to sleep.”

He’s an adult. Just like me. No one reminds me to pay my car insurance on time. Or to make sure I clean Scarlet’s litter box. I’m not going to make sure he “adults”.

Fuck that. He’s older than me. Get your shit together or find someone who’s willing to have a man-child.

So that’s where we’re at. My friends don’t curse at me. My friends don’t use hurricanes as excuses to not tell me “oh, by the way, that money you needed to pay the power and internet bill, you know, those things I use for work, I’m not going to give you”.

I had to go out and buy provisions for the hurricane, too. That didn’t make it ok for me to not pay bills. That still had to get done. And the hurricane didn’t last for three weeks. Zero fucks given about whatever “reasons” he has.

We’re both in victim mentalities right now I think. Me with, “he’s not being fair,” and him with, “she’s a hypocritical bitch.”

I’m fine with that. I’ve been doing the dishes and taking out the trash on my own and you know what? The apartment looks the way I want it to without having to wait on someone else to hold up their end of the agreement.

I’ve had less stress at home this past week then I have for a while and it’s mainly because I’ve stopped caring. I’ve come to the conclusion that I can rely on Warren to be unreliable. With that mentality, I’ve let go of a lot of things. At the moment I’m ok with renewing the lease, mostly because I don’t have a choice.

Karen and I are meeting tonight for her to sign the application. That should be squared away by next week. Then it will be a matter of getting Warren to “make time” in his ever so busy schedule to vacate the two smaller rooms and move into the master bedroom.

Yes, I am still in bitch mode. I know he’s going to have “anxiety” over moving stuff around, and our schedules aren’t going to line up, and it’s going to end up being a clusterfuck that I take care of on my own. If it doesn’t go that way then at least I can be pleasantly surprised. If not then at least I’m not disappointed. That whole reliably unreliable thing…

So that’s the developments with the apartment. Fun times.

On to my social life…

Things with Big Bad are going well. We spent last night together. Last week there was a development that added another dimension to our relationship; the addition of consensual non-concent play. We’ve always had an element of BDSM in our dynamic but this was something we / I have stayed away from. Even with my blacksmith, I haven’t really done anything with it, mostly because I still have flashbacks sometimes.

The experience I had with Big Bad was amazing and something we both enjoyed and though I don’t think I’m cured or anything it is liberating to be able to explore this side of myself again after so long. It’s been four, maybe even five years now.

BDSM rape fantasies aren’t something you can talk about with most of the populace, let alone role play with a partner. It feels like we’re closer. There’s a level of acceptance between us that is more solid than it was before last week.

We don’t think either of us is a weird, sick fuckup for getting enjoyment from each other. It works for us and we’re the only people it has to work for because we’re the only people in our relationship.

I keep waiting for my relationship with him to have some horrible flaw that cripples us, but there hasn’t been one in over a year and it doesn’t feel like one is on the horizon. I’m just so used to there being one that the lack of one feels foreign, almost wrong.

So far things are good, though. Beyond good. They’re stable and warm and caring and supportive and everything I had given up on finding after Zane and I broke up.

My blacksmith is going through a lot right now. I don’t remember if I wrote about it or not. They found a growth. It’s non-cancerous. He’s on medication for the next three months to get rid of whatever it is. I don’t have details. I know the medication makes him sick and that he has to fight through exhaustion while still working doubles at work.

A tree fell on part of his house during Irma. One of the house’s bathrooms, closets, and part of the back patio are messed up, but none of the living spaces were damaged. Insurance is supposed to cover everything. Until it does part of his house is boarded up.

I don’t know when we’ll be able to see each other again. I’m guessing not for a while. Four months at least. Enough time for the medication to hopefully work. I’m not sure what will happen if it doesn’t.

It’s humbling. I left my previous career partly because I spent two weeks in a hospital holding my mom’s hand. Two weeks of sitting there with a Bachelor’s of Science and being unable to do anything other than worry.

Here I am, in the medical field, and I still wouldn’t have been able to do anything during the biopsy. I still can only sit and wait and be patient and hold my shit together even though all I want is to be told that things are ok. That they will be ok. That nothing bad is going to happen.

But that’s not how life works. No one can promise that because no one has that type of control. Those words are a lie and I refuse to tell them to myself and even though other people say them to me I don’t allow them in. I don’t accept lies.

I say things like, “It will work out how it’s supposed to,” and maybe that’s just as messed up. Maybe that’s just another lie.

It’s the one I listen to though. It allows me to accept that I don’t have control. I don’t have control over what is happening or what will happen. All I can do is accept what Life deems “right”. It doesn’t take away the fear of “this is the end”. The fear of “this is where he’ll release me because he can no longer be my Master.”

It sucks. I know he needs me to be strong. He has enough going on without having to worry about making sure I’m ok, too.

I’m fine, even with the annoyances of work, the apartment, and Life in general. I survived mom’s death. I can survive this. I can survive his death, too, if it comes to that. I know I can. He would want me to.

Mother Earth and I have been doing well. She reads my blog. She mentioned that I don’t write much about when we hang out. I know I haven’t and some of the reasons are intentional while other reasons aren’t.

Part of it is I know other people in our mutual lives read my blog. I don’t know why that has anything to do with anything, but it does. Maybe it’s because I feel like they’ll comment about what I write rather than having a discussion with me.

Part of it is a lack of writing in general. The days I’m able to write are often long after Mother Earth and I have spent time together, and so the more imidate things on my mind are not our moments together. They’re also not moments that I feel I need to work through. I mean, there are emotions, and there’s still stuff in our past I need to make peace with, but overall I feel accepted and restored when we’re together. Our moments help keep me sane and mostly stable. They’re also something I want to hold close to myself, like a precious piece of something that isn’t meant for everyone. It’s mine and it’s ok for it to stay that way; to not be shared.

She’s my Mother Earth and I’m her Earth Dragon and nothing further needs to be explained to anyone.

I do feel like she gets the short end of the stick when it comes to my social life. Big Bad is actually the only one I am consistent with. The only one I make a real effort to work my schedule around for. Other than that I spend all of my time trying to train at the gym or working. Other social obligations feel just like that, like obligations.

I know Nicole wants to spend more time with me. She messaged me just this morning wanting to go to the beach and all I can think of is how I would much rather NOT go. I could sleep instead. I could spend all of that time not traveling. I could save all of that money instead of spending it.

The pros for the trip do not out-weight the cons for me and so I find myself extremely reluctant to take steps to make it happen. I don’t really want to drive the hour to visit her either which isn’t fair.

Nicole likes being in my neck of the woods more, so it hasn’t been an issue, but I’m aware of the imbalance in our relationship. I don’t drive to see her. I don’t go out of my way to “hang out” even though I enjoy our time together.

I feel like it’s similar to Mother Earth. We have this relationship, this dynamic, whatever it is, and yet I’m not sure I’m fully present for it.

I am present when we’re together, but I’m so focused on my calendar; when can I train, how early to I have to be to work, will I be able to squeeze in grocery shopping…

And now I’m looking at adding school into the mix. Is any of this fair to the people in my life? I want to do the things I want to do, but that doesn’t leave much time for downtime where I can recover, or social time for anyone else.

It’s something I need to meditate on and figure out. I don’t want to add scheduled date nights onto my calendar but I’ve already done that for one person, so not doing it for others seems unfair. And none of this even touched on the topic of spending time with my younger brother or figuring out traveling for the holidays or what to do for Thanksgiving this year since last year sucked as far as my vote goes.

Blarg. Overall I think I’m doing alright with my social life and that it’s really just stuff I need to figure out for myself. No one is putting pressure on me. It’s all inside of my own head.

Work is going well. I got a text message from my boss earlier this afternoon saying the census will be low tomorrow and to take the day off. Don’t mind if I do. I was looking at four days this week, three of them being 16-hour shifts. I’m cool with not working one of those.

I’m going to begin studying for my certification. I also will be going back to school and there’s reimbursement from the company I need to look into since I’m most likely going to be going for a Nursing degree…

Yeah… I know… more on that later I promise.

I’ve officially been out of training for three months. That’s a nifty feeling. I still haven’t heard about when I can take the CVC class or when I’m allowed to actually take the certification, but I’ll be prepared for that day whenever it ends up being.

There was one particular moment this week at work that I want to reflect on. I’ve written about this particular patient before. Mr. A. He’s the patient who didn’t want to come into the center for his treatment. The one I hugged and told him I hoped he felt better. The one who said the reason he came inside was so he could see me.

Mr. A is awesome and he’s one of the patients I enjoy seeing even though other people I work with would describe him as “needy”. He asks for a lot of stuff. He likes the interaction. He likes to talk and do magic tricks like pulling a dollar bill out of his hat. I don’t know why but I like him and he’s one of the people I don’t mind doing things for because I like seeing him smile. I like making him feel like there’s still good stuff in the world to experience, even if it’s just a simple cup of coffee that I bring for him while he’s on the machine.

Mr. A used to be a CVC patient, but his fistula has been deemed mature enough to use for his dialysis treatment. That means he has to be cannulated with 15 gauge needles.

I don’t care who you are, getting stabbed sucks.

He didn’t want to have the needles for his treatment. He wanted to use the CVC. I explained that we could use the CVC but that it had more risks associated with it and that the better option would be to use the fistula even though it hurt more in the beginning.

He said he would do it for two cups of coffee. I smiled and said we had a deal. One cup for each needle.

He said ok. I could use the fistula then but to try to make it not hurt. I put my hand in his and squeezed, saying I would do my best not to. We were quiet for a second as I held his hand. I was debating saying something further. Should I say it or not? Should I keep going with the procedure or be vulnerable, too?

I decided to be vulnerable.

Me: It hurts me, too, Mr. A.

I said it in a small, quiet voice. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes because it does hurt me. It makes my heart seize every time I see one of my patients flinch in pain as I insert a needle. And I have to do it, not once, but twice. I have to hurt them. I’m paid to hurt them, and thinking of it in those terms makes me feel like the shittiest human being.

I squeezed Mr. A’s hand again before setting up what I needed for the procedure. I felt his arm before I cleaned the area. His fistula is a little deep, but not too bad. It feels solid; like it won’t roll much. I can tell it’s fairly new with how small it feels in comparison to some of the patients who have had their fistulas for years.

I had a moment of self-doubt. Maybe I should call someone else over. Maybe I wasn’t the right person to do this. What if I fucked up?

No. I would do this. I would try. I know I’m not the best, but Mr. A agreed to use the fistula because I was his tech. This was my procedure, my patient, and I wouldn’t let him down.

I took a deep breath as I stretched the skin on his arm. I said a silent prayer to Freya asking for my aim to be true and inserted the needle. I let out my breath as I saw flack back within the needle line. I was in. I advanced the needle. It went smoothly. I secured the needle with tape and allowed myself in inhale again as I stood back up.

Mr. A: Is it in?
Me: Yep. Only one more to go.
Mr. A: That didn’t hurt at all. You know how to treat a man.

I smiled an uncontrollable smile. He’s too cute sometimes. The second needle went in just a smoothly. Again, Mr. A mentioned how it didn’t hurt “too bad”. I completed the procedure and got his treatment started.

Mrs. Flo, the RN I’ve written about before, the one who’s approval is the end-all be-all to my medical career, came up to me afterward and congratulated me.

Mrs. Flo: Very, very good.

I know Mr. A can be a handful. I know he almost always refuses to come in for his treatments, or constantly asks for things, but I don’t mind. I don’t mind listening to him and letting him know that I hear him. I don’t mind taking an extra 10 minutes to get him on the machine if it means I can hold his hand and admit for the first time to someone that it hurts me, too.

It filled me with pride to know Mrs. Flo had been watching and that she approved of how I handled the situation. It made me feel even though I might still mess up that I’m doing well. Her approval means so much more than anyone else’s I’ve received so far. I’ve got this.

So that’s work. It’s going well and I’m hoping for it to continue to improve. We just requested our days for the new schedule. I should be capped at three days, and with the changes I made to my tax information I should be alright for a little bit; even better once I get my certification and the dollar increase to my wage.

Onward to talking about workouts. : D

I’m pretty sure I typed about the yoga class I did last week. It was awesome. I enjoyed it. It met the quota of “at least one yoga class a week”. I failed hardcore on the running aspect, though, so that was kind of lame.

Part of it was I went to dinner with Mother Earth and Josh one of the nights I was supposed to run. The other was I didn’t push through my tiredness on the other night. No one to blame but myself.

Yesterday I went to Title Club Boxing instead of the dojo. Since Big Bad and I had plans for the evening I felt it would be better to go there since they have a shower and are already halfway to his place.

Since at the time I was waiting for Warren to not be a dick and to give me the printer, I decided to go to what was listed as a “technique” class. It ended up being more of a boot camp conditioning class. I was ok with that. It was 30 minutes of intense workout and super fun. I stayed for the boxing class afterward which was an additional hour.

Once it was done I showered then went to Big Bad’s. It wasn’t until this morning that I really noticed the first knuckle of my right index finger. It hurts-ish. More a low level of discomfort than real pain. There’s a popping / grinding feeling whenever I curl my fingers and if I extend my finger out like if I’m pointing at someone, I can feel a sharpish edge of something poking into my skin. It’s swollen in comparison to my other index finger and I can see a difference in how the skin folds when my finger is extended…

Yeah… not cool bro.

After reading different articles online and talking with my trainer I plan to wait and see what happens. A lot of things say it’s most likely inflammation and overuse, not like I was using it all that much aside from my one boxing class in weeks…

I can tell the swelling has gone down as the day’s progressed. I plan to get some ibuprofen while I’m at the store since that was something mentioned in the forums. If the pain increases or if it doesn’t continue to get better as the days progress I will, undoubtedly, go get it looked at. I want to see if my body can take care of itself first. If I were in more pain I would be more worried. At the moment I’m being cautious.

My workout with L today was awesome. She’s very supportive of me gearing up to be back in school (again, more on that later). When I mentioned my knuckle she looked at it and told me modifications I could during my workout so I wouldn’t have to grip things as much.

Next Tuesday she’s going to have me try jumping the red box… that escalated faster than I thought it would. She’s confident I can do it. She said I’m clearing the blue box with a fair amount of room to spare. She said jumping the red box is more of a mental hurdle than a physical one. Physically I can do it. Mentally I need to tell myself I can do it rather than looking at it like an impossible task. But it’s the red box… >.<;

I can tell my core is continuing to improve. I could tell last night at Title Club while I was throwing hooks how I’m able to generate more power within my torso. It’s a cool feeling. It’s also helping me with the plyometrics L is having me do. I’m able to do the core workouts better, for longer, and faster; definitely with less of an “I’m dying please kill me” feeling.

I also happened to dig out my long sleeved stuff to see what would fit this year. Two shirts I’ve kept since I graduated high school fit me again. Actually, one of them I was never able to wear. I bought the shirt while I was working as a stocker at JCP. At the time I had been working on losing weight and it was my “reward” shirt. A super pretty, deep purple oriental type shirt with long flowing sleeves.

I was able to fit into it for the first time last night. I don’t know when I’ll wear it out. I want it to be for something special. I want to feel pretty while I wear it. Makeup and everything. No icky faded hair. Nope. Fresh dye, eyebrows waxed. The whole nine yards.

I’ve waited six years to wear this shirt. I’m going to make sure I’m the hottest thing this side of the sun when I go out in it.

That’s it as far as working out goes. Trying not to fuck up my body too much while still making progress. I still need to sign up for the Spartan race. Before I do that I need to make sure Big Bad really would be ok with me running without him. He has his daughter’s that weekend and wouldn’t be able to go with me. More meditation is required.

The last thing to talk about is school. Not that I haven’t written a small novel already.

So school has changed a bit, again.

I applied to Seminole State College. I found out Monday, yesterday, that I was accepted. I dropped a pretty penny on getting copies of all of my transcripts. I had copies sent to the college, but also to myself since I’m tired of not having that information when I need it. I mean really… who remembers and/or cares about exact day of their graduation? >.<

That’s essentially six transcripts I had to pay for. I guess it’s worth it. I mean, if it gets me to where I want to go then I’m cool with it, and it will be nice to have “unofficial” copies to keep in my “box of important stuff”.

I was looking further into the Sports and Exercise Science degree and realized that it’s a transfer degree to UCF’s Bachelor’s program, so I wouldn’t really be getting what I want for a while… Lame…

That got me thinking this morning though… Maybe I should do the Associate RN degree first since a lot of the classes for the Nursing and Sports and Excercise Science degrees crossover.

That would let me vertically move within the company, or potentially leave for something else, while still working towards my SECD (sports and exercise science degree because there’s no way I’m going to type that out every time).

That would give me time to figure out if I really want to pursue another Bachelor’s degree. I’m pretty sure I do, but I’m also pretty sure I want to make more money while I do it. Basically, after getting my RN degree, I would do the SECD. After completing the degree at Seminole State I would transfer into UCF I would be a junior. I would be in the Human Performance path and I would be working towards a minor in fitness training.

I finished the application process for the college so now it’s really just a waiting game. I get to talk to my advisor next Tuesday. That’s where I’ll be able to really battle plan everything out. I want to see if I can take one of the B Session classes this fall. That’s essentially a fast forward class. Instead of taking 16 weeks and doing a full semester. I would only be doing about 6 or 8 weeks for the class. If I could get through English II or another Gen Ed that would be nice. Go ahead and get it out of the way.

I’ll be finding out what, if any, of my previous classes, transfer on Tuesday as well. I’m hoping for at least two. Four or more would be better but Full Sail is lame with how they label their classes so my Public Speaking and Physics might not count.

I applied for financial aid though I’m not expecting to get much if anything. Right now all if it is “wait and see” so since that’s the end of what I have to write about I guess I’ll go ahead and get going to I can grocery shop and do the cooking before meeting Karen tonight.

Life is going, some areas of it smoother than others, but I’m pretty ok with how I’m coping. Go me.

Daily Post 042: 16 Hour Days = 8 miles

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Monday was my second day on my own at work. My second 16-hour shift.

It was the first day that I remembered to wear my Fitbit with me to work. Apparently, I walked eight miles that day.

It was the second time that my teammates were amazing and had a little pow-wow with me to help boost my confidence.

Monday was the first day where I forgot the clamp the saline lines, not once, but twice, which resulted in a major headache for my trainer who had to help fix my mess up. Monday was the first time where not one, but two, of my patients, wanted to pause their treatment to use the restroom. It was the first time I got done taping someone’s access up and wished them a good day only for them to come back two minutes later, their gauze soaked in blood because they bled through.

It was the second time that I used organizing the stock room as my destresser from it all. It was my first heart to heart with one of the RNs who’s become way more friendly to me now for some reason. It was my first time interacting with Mr. C who said I did a good job taping him up.

It wasn’t a bad day. I was joking with my boss earlier, just after my first break, saying that I hadn’t killed anyone yet, I hadn’t broken down into tears, and I hadn’t quit, so, all in all, it was a good day so far.

He laughed, and I laughed with him even though we both knew how serious I was about each of those statements. Since he started as a PCT he knows exactly what I’m going through and it’s a nice feeling to know that he legitimately understands the whole, “It’s not a bad day but I’m totally going to break down into tears once I get out to my car” feelings.

Part of the routine at the clinic is each team member gets a specific chore for the day. My chore on Monday was making CVC kits. It’s sort of like making the needle packs.

Two packs of 2×2 gauze, two packs of alcohol, two tempadots, one piece of 4×4 gauze, paper tape, plastic tape, one syringe, one iodine pack.

Making needle packs is an extremely structured and repetitive task. It one of the moments in the day where I get to breathe and take a step back. A moment of decompression. Just like mixing the bleach water. I get to measure everything out. No higher level thinking. No inserting needles into arms or thighs. No human interaction for those six minutes. There’s only running water, measured bleach, writing initials, date, and time onto a piece of plastic tape to go on the container.

Monday was such a crazy busy day with me trying to keep up with my patients that I didn’t have time to do the CVC kits. I stayed after I clocked out to do them, holding up in the stock room and listening to the same ambient techno song on my phone while I did five packs at a time.

Two of those, one of that, three of these.

Counting. Repetition. No beeping alarms. No “next obligation”. No “I hope I’m doing this right and don’t mess up.”

My brother called me during my CVC making. There’s a former guard instructor who lives really close to him. She helped Jon get a job working with a high school marching band this past summer. She’s sort of become Jon’s adoptive mom. I’m not as close to her, but she’s an extremely nice person and I’m glad Jon has her in his life.

She was taken to the ER for a kidney stone. I can relate all too well to that situation.

Jon said he needed someone to talk to because it brought up a lot of emotions for him. Seeing her with IVs in her arm, just like mom had. Being there when she was discharged, an action we never got to experience with mom.

I had silent tears running down my cheeks as I continued to count out alcohol packs and tempadots. I know what it was like for me to be in the ER on my own. I haven’t seen any of my loved ones in the hospital yet. I’m sure it will bring up powerful emotions when I do have that experience, but I still ached for my brother and myself over our loss of mom. It still hurts remembering what it was like to see her in the ICU, what it was like to sleep in the hospital every night for two weeks. To stand in front of the drink mix aisle at Target and to feel like an awful daughter because I didn’t know what flavor mom would want. To know that mom never got to be discharged.

It brought up a lot on an already overwhelming day and I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears away as the rolled down my cheeks while I listened to him and shared in his pain.

I’m glad my brother called me and I’m glad we have each other to understand the emotions we can’t share with anyone else.

When I finally left work it was 8:30 pm.

I drove home. I talked to one of my friends from California while I did it. He made me laugh which kept the tears in check. It helped remind me that the day hadn’t been bad, just overwhelming and the way to fight overwhelm is to let go of the tension and breathe.

I took a long, hot, relaxing shower when I got home, washing away the day. Work will stay at work, and I think showering will be one of the actions I use to solidify that for myself.

I then went out to dinner with Warren since it was his birthday. We talked about finances. We talked about the Internet issue. We talked about him having a friend over on Wednesday (tonight). We talked about a lot of stuff. It was good to be out even though I was exhausted. I think it helped him feel cared for that even if it was a small outing that we at least did something for his birthday. It didn’t go unnoticed.

When we got back home I went to sleep almost immediately.

I slept almost all day Tuesday. At first, I thought about getting up and doing something with the day. At 7:30 am I went downstairs to make coffee but only made it to the futon. I laid back down for a few hours before finding enough energy to go back upstairs to my room. No coffee. No breakfast. In fact, I didn’t eat anything until 6 pm that evening and the only reason I did was because Warren agreed to pick up a pizza for me.

By 7 pm I was feeling a bit better energy wise. I stayed up and played Torchlight until about midnight before going back to sleep.

I woke up at 3, 5, and 7:30.

I’ve felt better today but still tired. It’s the type of tired that feels like it will be fixed with a good night’s sleep, so I think tomorrow will be ok.

I work tomorrow. It’s a “short” day. Only two shifts of patients rather than three. If I close tomorrow then I’ll be out around 4:30 pm. Friday is a day off, then Saturday is another “short” day. I’m hoping the new schedule is out so I can know what I’ll be working for the next six weeks.

I’m glad with the way the schedule worked out this week. I enjoy closing. I enjoy the calm and being able to stock and clean and not worrying about having the pod set up for the next wave of people. 16 hour days are brutal. Maybe I’ll get better with them as I improve my workflow and things become less overwhelming. Right now it feels like a lot and I needed these past two days to recover. Just like I needed Saturday and Sunday to recover from this past Friday.

I saw my blacksmith Saturday night. It was supposed to be Friday night but he was in a car accident.

I knew something was wrong that evening as I was leaving work. We had been texting earlier in the day. When I was leaving I sent a message to let him know I was on my way home. After thirty minutes I still didn’t have a reply. I knew that was odd. After an hour and thirty, I knew something had happened and our evening most likely was going to be postponed. At 11 pm I sent a message saying I hoped he was ok. At 3 am I still hadn’t received a response.

It wasn’t until the morning that I got a message saying he was being released from the hospital. No one was seriously injured. His shoulder and chest were sore but that was it. A 17-year-old was texting on her phone and pulled out too soon, smashing into the passenger wheel of his car.

I’m glad he’s ok. I’m glad we saw each other Saturday night. It was another session where I feel like my soul was melted into liquid iron and reshaped. Insecurities that I’ve had for years seem to have vanished over the course of a single night. Even with the weight of work I can feel a difference in myself. The breaks and cracks and chipped pieces where past experiences have hurt me have been undone through this one interaction and I really don’t know why or how.

I feel accepted with both my blacksmith and Big Bad. I feel a level of peace with both of them. Like it’s ok to be me, pure me, vulnerable me. No walls keeping people out and protecting hidden, secret hurts me.

I like how they both make me a better person. How they want me to reach the goals I set for myself. How they’re supportive and inquire about what I’m doing. How they help me through the hard times and share in the good times. I’m grateful for both of them and this is another instance of where I realize just how rare a dynamic like this must really be.

I still feel the hurt of mom being gone, but excluding that wound, I feel more whole than I have since I can remember. It’s another foreign feeling where I’m still me but it’s a different version of myself that I’m not used to. There should be pain in certain areas of my soul and there isn’t. In a way, it’s disorienting and yet relieving.

It’s something I am consciously aware of, so I suppose I’ll meditate on it and form other thoughts and will write about it more in the future. For now, it’s enough to say that I continue to grow and change and develop into the person I’m supposed to be.

Today has been a more productive day than yesterday, though really it feels like any day would have been “more productive” than yesterday.

I returned my fourth pair of shoes today. I actually really liked the ones I had. The only bad thing was they were a 9.5. The store I had been at previously only had half sizes in stock, so it was either a 9.5, which was a little too big, or an 8.5, which was a little too small.

I decided to try out the 9.5, but nope, too big. The shoes almost slipped off my feet while I was walking around the clinic. Everything else was amazing though. I loved the cushion and the slip resistant bottoms. The style was what I was looking for, too.

So today I went to a different store to return them and see if they had the elusive size 9 I wanted. They did, so hopefully, that mission can be labeled as a 100% success. We’ll know tomorrow when I try out the new pair. I have high hopes.

I did grocery shopping after that. This week is almost over and with still being low energy like I am I don’t really have it in me to do a bunch of cooking. I got mostly frozen stuff that requires baking in the oven. Not the healthiest of meal planning weeks I know, but it’s better than eating fast food every day from having nothing prepared. I’m going to try to be a bit better planned for the coming week.

I also got my car looked at today. One of the things my blacksmith and I do is go out to Waffle House for breakfast before he leaves. As we were driving there he mentioned how it felt like I should get my brakes looked at. Since I’m not a car person I tend to default to other people’s judgments on things like that.

My rotors were fine but the pads did need to be replaced, along with my brake fluid and my oil. It wasn’t supposed to have taken very long, but when one of the mechanics when to pick up the brake pads the store didn’t have them, so we had to wait for them to be delivered from somewhere else… it was sort of a cluster fuck on their end and I ended up waiting about four hours to get my car back.

Wasn’t really how I wanted to spend my day to be honest…

I got a half price oil change out of it, along with a card for a second half priced oil change. Would have rather had my car back two hours earlier, but at least they acknowledged the fact that it was sort of BS to keep me waiting as long as I was.

I’m glad the car got taken care of. The struts need to be replaced soon, but since that will be about $1k I’m going to hold off on that for a bit.

Oh… I bought more of the Shefit bras as well since they’re working out so nice. Three isn’t enough to get me through the work days as well as working out.

Aside from cooking food and doing laundry, there’s not a whole lot else about today to write about.

Warren is going to have his date night. I’m going to go to sleep, and then it will be tomorrow.

So with that I guess I’m going to go and hopefully tomorrow is less overwhelming than what Monday was.

Daily Post 003: Conversations and Clothing

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It’s hard to believe it’s still not past noon. I don’t know why but it feels like I’ve been awake for forever and that it should be later than it is.

I figured I would write while I had the chance to.

I actually just got off the phone with Sir. It’s the first phone conversation we’ve had in a while. I’ve wanted to talk to him. I feel like I’ve lost touch with my former pseudo-family since the falling out with Mother Earth. I miss her. And Josh.

Sir and I talked about my blacksmith. We talked about Big Bad, too. I really don’t have many people I can talk to about my dynamics, especially the BDSM aspect of them. Even though Sir and I are no longer together I still value his opinion, and I’m glad we reaffiered to each other that our friendship is important.

It was an extremely connecting conversation and it helped me feel like the direction I am going is the right one. I feel like things will be ok and that I can keep the connections I value even though I’m moving forward. I’m not disrespecting anyone or unintentionally causing harm to people I care about.

It meant a lot to me to be able to admit to my fears. To voice them rather than keeping them contained in my chest where they could fester.

I feel more stable and solid for having had the conversation even though I was terrified of how it would go. I’m glad we talked and I’m hopeful that we will be able to hang out soon.

Aside from that I have eaten breakfast and researched into rash guards and compression gear and the differences between them.

Since all of my workout stuff is fitting looser I want to get new things. At the same time, I don’t want to get new gear until the end of March since that’s when Allison is getting married and that marks the end of my travel obligations for a while. It marks when I can go back to “my life” even though it’s in the distant future. I guess the week vacation Allison wants to take to Disney for her bachelorette party factors into it. That’s only a few weeks away. The beginning of February.

I don’t know… I feel like things are still broken up and like I’m still waiting to get back to me. It’s like until the party and the wedding happen that things aren’t fully settled.

Maybe that’s all inside of my head.

Anyway. I had told myself I wouldn’t buy new clothing until the end of March unless I completely had to. No new bras, no shorts, nothing. Stick it out until the end of March, another two months, and then I’ll go through and replace everything all at once.

Well… now that I’ve given myself that stipulation, of course, I feel denied. So I think I’m going to compromise a little. I need new compression gear. According to online sources, Target has some decent shorts for pretty cheap. And there’s not really a benefit for girls to wear “girl stuff”. According to forums, guy gear does the job just as good so I’m thankfully not limited to hot pink as my only color choice.

It would be nice to have a few new compression tops since the Lucy tops I bought aren’t compressing as much with my weight loss. I’ve been looking into rash guards since I’ve been enjoying submission grappling so much. If I go the route of compression gear it might be a good idea to get a few sports bras to wear under them. The tops I have currently have the bras built in.

It’s something to investigate. I won’t know which set up I like more until I feel the difference. In the past, the sports bras I’ve tried didn’t have the compression to keep everything in place. Maybe things are different now.

So today I would like to go out and see about getting a couple shorts and a top or two. That way I can get over the “denied” feeling and get more amped about my workouts. I mean, it would be pretty motivating to have new stuff in smaller sizes because the effort I’m putting into myself is actually having results.

So maybe not a full wardrobe change, but a few new things to keep me going. I think it could be nice. A reward for the past few months. I never did get myself anything for Christmas…

I may or may not be trying to justify spending money…

There’s a pair of shin guards I want from Venum. They look amazing. Those will definitely be a March item, along with the black gi I want. Maybe… I still haven’t made up my mind to buy a black one even though I know I’ll feel more comfortable in a black gi than a white one. I mean, white isn’t a “bad” color, but it doesn’t have the same juju as black does for me. Black is a “my color”. I get strength from it. So while I don’t “need” a new gi, I would like one since with jujitsu I’m allowed to wear whatever color I want, unlike aikido where I had to wear white.

Anyway, tonight I see Big Bad. I need to go running. I want to take Scarlet to the vet but I’m still waiting to hear back from them. I looked into changing my car insurance since I was quoted a lower rate elsewhere. Instead of canceling my policy, I altered my current one a bit so my monthly rate is lower. Woohoo.

I didn’t put my clothes away last night so now I’m starting to truly feel like a slacker. I’ll have to make myself do it before leaving tonight. There’s submission grappling at noon and six pm tonight. I might try to make it to both classes. I guess it really depends on how much I get killed during the noon class. I still have to wrestle with Big Bad when I go to his house, so maybe going to only one class would be the smarter option. He already has something like seven years of experience on me… I don’t need to give him any more of an advantage than what he has.

Anyway… not much to report other than a wonderfully uplifting and reassuring conversation and investigating how to become a bigger badder badass.

Screw you, Red Squiggle Line. Badder is a word and I’m going to use it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

love

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

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

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

… So… Yeah…

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

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

Egg Roll Bowls.

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

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

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

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

Daily Post 001: First Day Back at the Dojo

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I couldn’t hang for all three hours at the dojo. I mean… I could have, and then regretted every part of that decision. But nope. This is me learning from all of the past mistakes of pushing too hard too fast.

Jujitsu was first tonight, and that had a TON of people. A lot of them I knew so even though there were significantly more people than I am used to, I wasn’t as overwhelmed as I probably would have been only a short month ago.

It was fantastic being able to tell everyone happy new year. I saw Paul and Jim and Akib and Roman and Tommy and Adanous and several other people who I don’t remember their names… but for being awful with names I’m doing surprisingly well.

I didn’t see Carolina tonight. Hopefully, she’s there tomorrow.

The class was good. Us white belts practiced chokes from back mount. I’ve done them before, but only once, so doing them again was nice. At the end, we did three rounds of sparring. I tapped one guy out with one of the chokes we had just gone over, so that was nice. Validation that I do some things right other than not get choked out myself.

I thought about not staying for Muay Thai. I wasn’t sure if I was up for it or not, but when Paul had everyone line up so we could bow out he said, “If you’re staying for Muay Thai get your gear on.” And somehow without realizing it I was in the locker room getting my gloves, shin guards, and mouth guard along with another bottle of water… So… I guess I was staying.

Muay Thai wasn’t as intense as jujitsu, and I say that from the perspective of comparing them to each other. It’s interesting to look back and compare both of these classes to things I’ve done in the past. They’re definitely on a different level than anything I’ve ever done at the YMCA. I think the only thing comparable would be a boot camp class I did while visiting my older brother a few years back. It was something I went to with Lio at the gym on the Air Force base, and that class was no joke. I’m pretty sure if looks could kill the instructor would have been dead when he told me to do more squats that day.

It amuses me, but also makes me feel cared for when we start doing body shots and the guys ask if they’re hitting me too hard with a worried look on their face.

Being a masochist I can fully attest to there being different kinds of pain. Having been in legitimately abusive relationships I can also attest to the fact that there is a difference between consensual BDSM actives and abuse.

I know I can take a hit in both situations. I also know my pain tolerance is higher than most people I have interacted with. So when I get what basically amounts to a love tap and the guys look at me like their about to break me or something it’s sweet and cute in a, “You poor thing, you. You have no idea” sort of way.

 

Me: “No, really. You can come at me, bro.”

 

Usually, the level doesn’t get set until I throw my punches or kicks. I’m still focusing on technique so I’m not going all out like I would if we were doing bag work, but I strike with intention. Once my drill partner sees what I’m comfortable with they normally match it, or go at their level with the understanding of I’m ok with what we’re doing.

It helps that this was the second time I was paired off with Roman. He’s a pretty cool guy. He talked to me more this time. He gave me some tips during the drills like keeping my elbow tucked. Small reminders about things that are important and that I forget as I try to remember everything else I’m supposed to remember about my form.

To me, it’s thoughtful. He doesn’t have to help me get better, but he is, and that means a lot to me. I always say thank you when someone at the dojo offers me advice on how to improve.

Once we bowed out for Muay Thai I thought about staying for submission grappling. By then I was out of water. I could have gotten more from the sink, but Florida water sucks. If you have ever had Florida tap water you know the struggle is real. I also figured it was better to go home and eat since I’ve had a hard time eating for the last little bit.

I’ve still had at least one meal every day, so I have that going for me. I’m hoping with getting back into the routine of the dojo and dance classes and my metabolizing picking back up the issue will fix itself. I know the “not eating” thing is from the emotions of the holiday season and the stress of traveling. Workouts forced me to eat. Going for ten days without much physical activity meant there wasn’t anything going on to force me to intake.

Well, now there is, Body. Suck it up and eat this dericious salad or else.

I also rationalized that after ten days I should ease into things. Going for two relatively light runs and then hurling myself into three hours of intense physical activity isn’t really easing… Hooray for type A personalities.

I could feel my body getting tired, too. A good tired, but if I was already tired at the beginning of submission grappling, then I most likely would be too tired to spar by the time we got to the end of the class, which is really what I would be staying for.

So as I was sitting against the wall watching the class start I decided that I had done well for the day. I had done literally all of the errands I had wanted to do. I had gone to therapy and dealt with not only my emotions of the trip and mom not being physically present for the holidays, but also tackled my angst with the apartment.

I had come home and talked to Warren and we figured out a system which should work for us as far as the chores and dog fur are concerned, so hopefully our situation will feel less one sided now.

Warren and I talked about potential job opportunities for him to look into since I’ve heard a few things that might be of interest to him. We even talked about me not taking the contract for California and started probing options I could look into here.

Surprisingly I might go back into teaching. It would be at a community college instead of Full Sail. I need to do research, but the thought of teaching again makes me happy. I didn’t resign from my job because I hated the job. I left because of the company.

So yeah, a lot of positive progress was made in several areas, and I had already done two hours of intense training. Nope. Going to go home and have dinner and drink more water, and organize my closet and cuddle with my cat and maybe cross stitch while listening to an audio book… all of that after I shower because I swear I lost half my body weight through sweat.

It was a good day. Slow to start, but good. I’m glad I’m back at it with the dojo. Jim asked me as I was leaving if I was going to be there tomorrow night. I have dance class tomorrow, but I should be able to get to the dojo for the last hour which would be more Muay Thai. I think I’m going to do it. I want to be there. We’ll see if it works out.

That’s about it. Good day. Good work out. New bruises. I’m going to label my day as done and go indulge my quirky INFJness obsession for organizing things.

Musing Moment 095: My Place

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I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I spend a lot of time in bed, resting, which usually leads to sleeping.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking that I should be doing something meaningful with my life. I spend a lot of time not having the energy to do much of anything by the time I get home, like today…

 

I went to work. I’m giving myself points for that because I really didn’t want to. Next week is my last week. Friday I have my exit interview. I’m sad when I think about it. I’m sad thinking that I’m going to be leaving everyone soon. I’m sad that it feels like goodbye.

 

I spent most of the lab scrolling through Facebook. I did everything I needed to do beforehand. I emailed Jason to update him on life and to solidify dates with him. I replied to all of the emails I had. I did all of these “things” and then I had nothing else to occupy my time with. At least nothing that I really wanted to do. So instead I scrolled through Facefail, saving images with inspiration quotes on them until the day was over and I was allowed to leave.

 

I had no intention of going to the gym today, which ended up working in my favor because there was a torrential down pour going on as I was leaving work. I just wanted to come back “home” to my extended stay and not be outside or around people.

 

So that’s where I am. At home, in comfy clothes, not sure what to do about food, and in general sort of sad and introspective.

 

There is a realness to everything now. I have a UBox reserved for the 8th. That’s when I’ll be packing my things to have them shipped to Vegas. I have the going away event, laser tag awesomeness, set up for the 9th. On the 11th, Monday, the start of the week, I check out of my extended stay and begin my trip westward.

 

There are so many things I’m looking forward to. Attending the dojang. Having a full-sized kitchen to myself. Using my pots and knives and in general being able to cook again. Turning the garage into my own personal workout area. Starting a herb garden. Potentially looking into reiki. Maybe becoming a certified nursing assistant. Having dinners with Lio and Jason.

 

I want all of those things. The thought of them makes me happy.

 

I have to leave Orlando to do those things. The thought of leaving hurts. I don’t want to hurt.

 

It sucks. It’s confusing. I don’t want to process but I know I need to. And so that’s where I’m at.

 

I saw V again last night. There was one point where we were talking and I started to cry. And by cry I mean I had tears running down my cheeks. I wasn’t sobbing, but I was remembering painful memories and because of that there were tears that I couldn’t stop.

 

V saw them and asked what was wrong.

 

“Emotions,” was the only word I could say. He reached out and wiped away one of the tears with his thumb. I tried pulling away and saying sorry. I didn’t want to mess up the night with emo stuff. I didn’t want to feel disappointment or rejection. I didn’t want to feel vulnerable because being vulnerable always seems to mean I’m going to end up hurt.

 

He kept his hand on my face even though I tried to pull away. I wanted to hide. I wanted to not hurt. He told me to look at him, and after an internal struggle of fearing what I would see, I did look up at him.

 

“It is not your place to be ashamed. Don’t ever feel ashamed for what you feel. It is your place to be the confident woman you are.”

 

I keep thinking of that phrase.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

It makes me think of all of my past relationships. The ones I knew I should have left. The ones that made me question and doubt myself. The ones that made me feel unworthy. The ones where I was gross. Mentally unstable. Fucked up. A whore. A cheater. Cumrag…

 

I think of all of these emotionally horrific experiences where the person who claimed to love me degraded me and made me feel less than. Made me feel ashamed of myself because being me was the absolute worst, most awful thing I could have done.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

Then why I was in so many places that made me feel that way? I instinctually want to pull away from this kindness because it is so hard to trust it now. I trusted all of my previous partners. I don’t feel like a confident woman. And maybe that’s because right now I’m still figuring out how to stand on my own. It’s not just mom’s death. It’s the betrayal of Zane. It’s the ending of my job. It’s the loss of my sphere in Orlando.

 

I feel hurt. I feel lost sometimes. I feel like this is another transitional period and things are shifting and I’m losing touch with solid ground. It’s scary and I just want to know that what I’m doing is right.

 

And yet, feeling V’s hands hold my cheeks while we looked at each other, his thumbs rubbing the tears away… I felt no negativity from him. It was ok to feel everything I was feeling. It was ok to have tears because tears didn’t make me a bad person or less than. It didn’t feel like lip service even though the things he said where everything I’ve wanted to hear. It felt like he meant those words. It felt like he cared.

 

It’s not my place means that I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be in places that make me feel unworthy, that make me feel less than. I’m not less than. I deserve respect. I deserve to feel wanted and loved and cared for. Not ashamed and like a beaten animal. I shouldn’t feel the need to cower away from someone when I cry. I shouldn’t feel sorry for feeling because feeling isn’t a bad thing. I’m allowed to feel. There is no shame in feeling, in expressing, in being human.

 

I wish I could say I was confident. But right now I’m not. Right now I feel the need to cry and purge the hurt of all of those memories. It’s not my place, but I felt all of those emotions. I felt shame and regret and guilt because so many people have told me that I should feel those things.

 

I don’t know what this is. Healing maybe? It’s confusing. It hurts. I need to let go of it, of them. These dark pieces of shattered memory. These shards that keep cutting me, causing my confidence to bleed out of me through the slashes. Like so many other aspects of myself, I need to look at these situations and evaluate them.

 

Do I accept these things
as truths about me?

 

Am I gross because I sweat when I bike 7 miles to work everyday?

 

Am I mentally unstable for being interested in BDSM?

 

Am I fucked up for preferring an atypical relationship dynamic?

 

Am I a whore, a cheater, for being involved with another person once a relationship is over?

NO.

No. My answer is no to all of those questions and so many more. No. I’m not gross. No. I’m not unstable. No. I’m not fucked up. No. I’m not a cheater or a whore.

 

I don’t want to feel shame for being who I am. I don’t want to give dishonorable people the power to make me feel shame. My place is not in my past. My place is not to feel ashamed anymore. It never was my place to feel ashamed about who I was.

 

My place is here. In the present. My place is figuring myself out, finding myself and my truths. My place is to be me. My place is to know myself. And knowing myself, believing in myself, is how I will return to being confident.

 

My place is not in my past. My place is here in my present.