Daily Post 048: Doin’ Good

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I wrote last Thursday, so less than a week ago. I had to go back and look at my last post to remember that. So much happens within such short time frames that it seems like it’s been longer.

I worked two days after my last post; both Friday and Saturday.

Friday started off awful. That day I was scheduled to work with our RN. She’s awesome. I have a high level of respect for her. Every time she spoke to me that morning it was to tell me how I was doing something wrong. By 8 am I wanted to find a corner and cry my eyes out because I was convinced that I did nothing right. I should just quit my job and save everyone the hassle of having to put up with me.

The constant, non-stop corrections made me feel incompetent, and she would loudly, pointedly, correct me in front of patients, so I had an audience for my dressing down.

I know she’s correcting me to make me better. I know this is her way of showing she cares. But for my personality type, her method sucks. Hardcore super sucks. So even though I know she’s coming from a good place, emotionally it was tearing me up.

After I came back from my first break it wasn’t as bad. The day continued on well enough.

I decided to go to the gym after work and run because I guess being on my feet all day and walking seven miles wasn’t enough. Joking aside, I knew that I needed to do something to get rid of the stress build up. The dojo was closed and so was Title Club. The gym is 24 hours, though, and I’ve been wanting to improve my run time again. I’m still kicking the idea of running a Spartan in December.

So the idea solidified in my head to go to the gym. I needed to stop by the apartment for a few things, but it wouldn’t be a huge detour so it was ok.

Well… when I walked through the door the first thing I heard was the laughter of another female. I know for a fact that Warren didn’t mention anything about having someone over. I was so not ready to meet a new person in my space after working for 12 hours where at least four of them made me seriously contemplate quitting my job.

I was in instant bitch mode and gave zero fucks about it. I got the stuff I needed as I politely explained I wasn’t going to be staying long and left. On the way to the gym I sent a text message to Warren saying I was not ok with not being told about having company over and drove to the gym with renewed purpose; blowing off steam so I didn’t lose my shit and end up in jail for murder.

I shaved 3 minutes off my time from the last time I ran. I normally am at an 18-minute mile. I did a 15-minute mile Friday. Still doing interval running, but I ran for longer intervals at a faster pace than what I normally do and I wasn’t too super tired afterward. It felt like a good, decent run, especially after being at work all day.

I was still pissed, but I wasn’t as pissed. Mostly I was tired and didn’t care what was going on as long as “she” wasn’t there. Introverted animal instincts were in full flare.

Warren apologized, saying he had just stopped by to feed Bruno and that he didn’t think it would be a big deal since I wasn’t home.

My reply was that the apartment is my only haven; that I pay rent to have this space as my own. I deserve to know when someone is going to be in it, even if it’s only to stop by and feed the dog. Just like he has a right to know when I bring someone over.

We’ve talked about it. When I asked if we’re still ok he said yes, so I guess we’re ok. There’s not much else to write about on the topic other than more bitching on my part, so I’ll move on.

Saturday was a better day. The floors were scheduled to be waxed at our clinic so we had to unplug all of the machines and computers and move literally everything off of the floor. You don’t realize how much crap there is in a dialysis clinic until you have to move it all.

Sunday I had breakfast at Perkins again. Unfortunately, I forgot my headphones so even though it was a good breakfast I wasn’t able to zone out the way I had been hoping to. The intention to blog was there, but alas, it was not meant to be.

I did do a fairly good job of keeping it as a “Me” day though I still ended up at work. I had messaged my supervisor on Saturday asking if more volunteers were needed since Sunday afternoon the clinic needed to be set back up. He said yes and that I should be at the clinic at 1 pm. So on my “Me” day I went into work for a couple hours and moved everything back to where it was supposed to be.

It was actually really nice. It’s like when I clean the mats at the dojo. I feel like part of the clinic now. More at home and comfortable. I’ve done something to contribute to the environment. It’s a good feeling. I think it made me look pretty good too since it was my FA, me, and one other person setting everything up. No one else showed.

I did happen to stop by Best Buy on my way home from the clinic on Sunday. I got a new pair of headphones and a lighting to aux converter so I can keep a pair of headphones with my laptop and not have the issue of forgetting a pair again.

I think that will be a new part of my routine. Getting breakfast at Perkins and blogging / doing my computer chores while I eat and enjoy my morning.

I like the new headphones. They’re a sea foam green pair of Skullcandy. That’s my preferred brand for headphones. I always seem to have really good luck with them.

Monday I worked again. It was going great until the nurse I was working with called a patient to come in early. We had an open chair and she wanted to try to squeeze someone in since we had the time. That royally fucked everything up for later in the day. We talked about it in a meeting at work today, so I don’t think that mistake will happen again. That particular RN is not my favorite one, and she’s about to go on maternity leave, so, yeah, hopefully, it was a one time only sort of situation.

I went to the dojo after work. It wasn’t my best session but the move being taught was pretty advanced and I have never done the basic version. I did three rounds of sparring. I got tapped out once with an arm bar.

Once class ended and I bowed out I went home to shower then headed over to Big Bad’s for the evening.

It was amazing. It was everything I needed it to be and more. I woke up this morning, slightly tired, but fully restored and recharged. I remember waking up as Big Bad was getting ready for the gym. He leaned over the bed and kissed me goodbye saying he would be back soon and for me to go back to sleep.

I did and when next I woke he was tickling my feet and asking if I wanted coffee and a bagel for breakfast.

We ate and chatted for a bit before he went to shower, leaving me on my own to finish my coffee.

I like how he’s comfortable enough with me to leave me unattended in his home. I like how I’m comfortable enough to feel at peace with the solitude he gives me.

I like how we both sleep well next to each other.

Needless to say, the day started off well. We parted ways with a final kiss goodbye. I came home and showered. I curled up with Scarlet for a bit but, eventually, I did start laundry.

I went to Perkins again for breakfast. I had my new headphones this time so I was able to do more with my music providing me with a buffer from the world.

I ended up getting a phone call from one of my former classmates which turned into an hour long conversation. It usually does with her. It was a good conversation but by the time I was able to get off the phone my phone was almost dead, my laptop was dead, and I still had things I wanted to do before going to training at the gym or the mandatory meeting I had to make an appearance at for work. So, alas, blogging had to be saved for later once again.

I’ve been pretty productive today, actually. Training went well. I was tired and sore by the end of it. My trainer said she pushed me pretty hard today. I’m glad. I told her I liked it and that I felt good. She was pleased with my response so we’ll see how next week goes.

I was able to shower real quick before dashing off to make it to my clinic in time for the meeting.

Most of the time, at least with my former work, meetings are pointless, useless, wastes of time.

This meeting was actually productive and it was awesome having the whole team together in one room since we all work different days. My boss put it wonderfully when he said, “We’re unprofessional professionals.”

We don’t take ourselves too seriously but when it’s time to get stuff done we don’t cut corners and we do our best.

Well, nothing says that like being rated 4 out of 5 stars by CMS. Yeah. Go us! Especially for a ‘downtown’ clinic… you know, the ones that are supposed to suck and be the worst of the worst.

No. Fuck that shit. We’re actually one of the best and I feel a large part of that is because the team is amazing.

We had a patient from out of town last week. It’s not uncommon. We call them “visitors”, and we always do our best to make sure they feel welcome at our clinic. This particular visitor called the customer service line and left a review of our clinic. He said he had an amazing experience and mentioned three technicians specifically who made his visit so positive.

I was one of the names he mentioned in his review.

Me. Miss “I’ve only been doing this for two months on my own”. I made such an impression he was able to remember my name. It made me blush and get super shy to hear my name being read off of the printed paper in my FA’s hands.

It’s a good feeling and I’m trying to allow myself to embrace it rather than letting my Evil Voice tell me that I don’t deserve praise or recognition.

While we were at the meeting, pins were passed out.

Fun, Team, Service Excellence, Continuous Improvement, Integrity, Accountability, Fulfillment.

Those are the seven core values of DaVita and at the meeting, pins were given out to teammates who exemplified those values. I received the pins for Team and Continuous Improvement. Those were two more moments where I, again, blushed and got super shy. Not going to lie, I got teary eyed, too, but so did some of my other team members so I was ok with my reaction. We’re all touchy feely people and it’s nice to be part of a group who’s ok with showing emotions.

There was food and cake at the meeting. Once it was over I was basically forced to take food home, so I not only got an extra two hours on my time card today, I got free dinner along with it.

I came back home and have finished with most of my chores. Just one load of laundry to do while I watch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones. Then it’s off to sleep so I can go to work in the morning. I go in at 4 am so I should be able to go home around 5ish.

I was nominated for a blogging award by Ally. I have Thursday off so maybe I’ll be able to write then. If not, then Sunday I’ll make time for it. I applied for and was approved for, a credit card with 0% APR. I’m hoping to transfer my current balance to the new card which will save me $150 in interest each month.

I don’t like the idea of transferring balances all over the place. It seems sort of dodgy to me. Like I’m being underhanded or something. There are mixed feelings about it because at the same time I don’t like the idea of bleeding out money on interest.

K, the friend Warren met online who’s been going to kickboxing with me, may end up moving in with us. She came over and looked at the apartment on Sunday. That would make my total monthly apartment expense around $325. That’s a lot more manageable than the $500+ I was looking at with just Warren and myself.

Anywho. I’m all written out. I want to eat, watch my show, then call it a night.

Today has been a good day and last night was a good night. I think I like the routines I’m forming. I think I’ll be ok with the coming schedule if I’m able to recharge as fully as I was able to last night and today.

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Prompt Page 018: Self-Control Revisited

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Prompt post from The Learning Network
to combat WordPress.


 

How much self-control
do you have?

 

I feel like I need to revisit this prompt. I feel like, after thinking deeper on it, that I missed an extremely important section of my life. Nothing was mentioned about relationships or sex or anything along those lines. I didn’t think past the prompted areas. I’ve always handled my career well. I’ve always been diplomatic even if the other person didn’t deserve it. In the public view I’ve always had fantastic self-control, and so from reading my previous post it may seem like I’m this amazingly wonderful, flawless person when that is so far from the truth.

I still stand by my statement that self-control is awareness, and I still believe my choices do not stem from a lack of awareness.

Some of the most recent decisions which would be seen as a lack of self-control I made out of the desire to be self-destructive; to allow myself to burn in agony along with my life. In others, it was with the hope that I would be wrong in the end even though I rarely am.

I can think of a handful of times over the past six years of my life when I have followed through on a sexual situation even though I didn’t want to. Most of the time it was because I knew the other person wanted it and at the time I felt unable to say no. If I did I would be a tease, or a heartless bitch, or any number of things people say when they don’t get their way. When they feel “led on”.

It’s a shitty feeling to know that you’re feelings as a person don’t matter when weighed against someone getting their way. As a young, insecure 20ish year old I didn’t know how to stand up for myself, and so yes, I went through with those situations.

You end up going through with it because it’s the least confrontational option even though it feels like a part of yourself is missing in the end. Something was taken and you’ll never get it back. You’re left wondering if you’re still a good person, if you were ever a good person. If you were wouldn’t they have listened when you said you didn’t want to? Wouldn’t they have stopped pressuring you?

The most recent experience of self-destruction was actually less than a month ago.

I was lonely. I was missing mom. The only thing I wanted was to be held and to cry.

A friend messaged me. She was playful and flirty, which is normal for her. We’ve talked several times about the level of sexuality in her comments and she’s always said that our friendship comes first. We’ve had past experiences which make me consciously doubt that comment, and even now I still do. I know she values our friendship, but she will always pick self-fulfillment if given the option. That’s been my experience at least. Her actions speak louder than her words.

I told her at the time that I was hurting emotionally. I told her my grief was raw and that I didn’t really want to be sexual. I wanted to cry.

We hadn’t hung out in a while, months. I have Big Bad and am fulfilled with him. I haven’t wanted other partners, and I especially didn’t want anything sexual with her due to our past. I knew if we hung out she would want it to evolve into a sexual situation, so I had been avoiding her. I knew it would be awkward and a situation I didn’t want to be in, so I avoided it.

In that instance, prior to our meeting, I suppose I was using the distance method of “self-control”. If I’m not around it, nothing bad can happen.

While we were messaging back and forth through Facebook, she said that since she had to be somewhere relatively soon she could come over for just a little bit and we could cuddle, just cuddle, and see what happened.

In my head, I knew it wouldn’t stay at the level I wanted it to be at. It wouldn’t be “just cuddles” but at the time I didn’t care. I wanted to not feel alone. I wanted to be held. Big Bad had his kids so I couldn’t see him. My blacksmith has been working double shifts due to a hiring freeze at his work since December. It was 11 pm and everyone else was asleep because they work normal hours.

I had all of these reasons for justifying her coming over even though I knew I would regret it in the end. I knew, conscious awareness, and I let it happen anyway.

If it’s conscious it’s not a lack of self-control. You willingly allow it to happen. You know your consequences and you made that choice.

She came over. We cuddled. It didn’t stay PG and though my body responded and physically it felt good, it wasn’t what my soul wanted or needed and when she left I couldn’t get the water hot enough to make my skin feel clean. You can’t clean chakras with soap and water no matter how much you try. All you do is rub your skin raw so there’s a physical wound to heal along with your emotional one, only the emotional wounds never seem to heal. You’re always different after those.

I was left feeling more alone.

She messaged me a few days ago to see how I was. I haven’t messaged back.

The closer we get to mom’s deathday the more I feel myself pulling away from people. I don’t want to be around anyone. I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing anyone can say to make it better or right. The only thing I want is silence and to not feel cold and alone.

That’s why I let her come over that night. I didn’t want to be alone and the immediate self-gratification of having someone near seemed like it would outweigh the loneliness of when she left. It didn’t, and I knew it wouldn’t, but I wanted to try it anyway because trying anything was better than staying alone in my room in the dark with silent tears running down my face.

I don’t know where that leaves me in regards to self-control. It’s hard to justify not doing something when I’m in the middle of my grief. I’m not going to like this outcome, but what’s the point of not doing it? It’s not like anyting matters. Mom’s dead. In the moments where there aren’t tears associated with that sentance, those two words, there’s such a level of flatlined apathy, detatchment from self, that there’s no real sense of self-preservation.

No. I won’t like this situatuion and I don’t really, honestly want this situation but what does it matter? They will like it. It’s what they want. And on a physical level I will like it, so that makes it 1 1/2 people who want it, right? Why not go through with it? It will give me something different to hurt about. Something else I can focus on. Something other than thinking, “Mom’s dead.”

Maybe that’s self-medication. Maybe that’s distraction.

I’m not sure, but this realization has sparked deep introspection for me. It doesn’t seem like the kind option when I know in the end it will hurt me more. I deserve to be kind to myself. I deserve self-love and these actions don’t align with that.

I feel I need to meditate on this.

Prompt Page 016: Good At Being Good

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Prompt post from The Learning Network
to combat WordPress.


 

What Are You Good At?

 

Tell us what you are good at.

I’m good at learning. I’m good at being curious and asking questions. I’m good at wanting to know why and how. I’m good at seeing how things can be applied to other things to make systems easier or more efficient.

I’m good at helping. At wanting to help. I’m good at caring about people and things. I’m good at understanding if something can be improved and actually improving it.

I’m good at understanding that people are more than “things”. People aren’t numbers. People are hopes and dreams and aspirations and emotions. People are families and friends. They’re living. They have experiences that make them feel the way they feel. They have fears and insecurities. They have scars from Life. They have memories. They have self-preservation instincts.

I’m good at seeing the big picture as well as the small steps that go into achieving the larger goal.

I’m good at explaining things. I’m good at breaking down information or presenting it in such a way that people are more receptive to it. I’m good at taking something intimidating and scary and making it seem not so bad.

I’m good at teaching and sharing, especially if it’s something I’m passionate about.

 

 

How and when did you first realize you had this aptitude or knack?

I can remember when I was in middle school there was always a “word of the week” at my school. Teachers picked a student at the end of the week who most represented this word. Honest. Dependable. Compassionate.

We had a school news program and every Friday the names of the students who had been picked for the “Weekly Word” were mentioned and congratulated.

I was picked for a lot of those words. I didn’t try to get them. I didn’t strive or change things about myself. I did my homework. I was a nice person like my parents told me to be. I did what I was told when I was told to do it instead of giving my teachers a hard time.

At the end of the school year, there was an awards ceremony. I had been crushed because at the time I was in band. I focused a lot on band. Poured myself into it, really. It was how I was coping with my parent’s divorce. Band was my self-medication before the invention of World of Warcraft.

There was an award I had been striving for, but I had failed the music theory test during the solo and ensemble event. Passing that test was a requirement for the award so because I failed I wasn’t eligible anymore even though my “competition” was.

I remember being in my band director’s office and having silent tears running down my cheeks as he told me there wasn’t a way for me to achieve the award. I felt lost and hopeless. That award was how I knew I was doing something meaningful, that there was a purpose to everything. I NEEDED that award to have a reason to breathe.

She, my competition, was going to get to have her name called and walk across the stage and be acknowledged for her outstanding performance and I wasn’t. I had studied and practiced so hard. I knew ALL of my major and minor scales. I had passed every test in class. I had gotten a superior on my solo. I knew all of our musical terms and legitimately practiced all of the hours listed on my “practice sheet” while most students just randomly wrote in times so they wouldn’t fail the assignment.

I had done so much. So much. But because I had failed that one test, a test only offered once, I wasn’t going to be acknowledged. I had failed at something when I had put in so much effort into it and that hurt.

My effort hadn’t been good enough. I was a failure. Just like how I had failed my dad and that’s why he wasn’t around anymore.

I remember there was a while where I felt nothing. Depression. Apathy. It seemed pointless to keep striving when there was no way for me to reach the goal I wanted so badly.

Because I wasn’t eligible for the award I was surprised when I received an invitation to the ceremony at the end of the year. I very obviously hadn’t achieved my award, so why was I getting an invitation? At the time I thought it was a sick way for the system to twist the knife inside of my chest.

I remember showing mom the invitation. She was more excited than I was. We went out and got a special outfit so I could have something nice to wear for the ceremony. I remember sitting in the auditorium, the lights dim so the stage was brightly lit, displaying everyone who walked across the stage for their award. A honor roll. Perfect attendance. Things like that.

My competition was called for her band award and I wasn’t and I struggled not to cry because I didn’t understand why I was there. I didn’t want to see her achieving while I sat in my seat being reminded that I was a failure.

Eventually, we got to the end of the ceremony. The final part. It was the Empathy Award. This award was going to go to the student who embodied the idea of empathy. The student who most embodied every word that had been a “Weekly Word” for the whole school year.

My name was called.

I sat for a moment, not understanding as people clapped and cheered for me. I remember my mom poking me and telling me to go to the stage. I walked down the aisle, terrified that I would trip over my own feet, or that I would stumble as I walked up the stairs to the stage. I stood in front of my homeroom teacher as she gave me my certificate of Empathy and said I looked amazing in my outfit and that she was sorry she hadn’t been able to choose me for every word, but that she was proud of me and was happy I had gotten this award.

It was the first time I had heard the word empathy. I remember asking my mom when I got back to my seat what it meant. She said it means I’m a good person who cares about others.

I remember thinking it was sort of silly. I didn’t understand. I hadn’t done anything special. Caring for people is something you’re supposed to do. I didn’t do it better or more than anyone else. Everyone cared so how could there be an award for caring?

It wasn’t until later, as I got older, that I realized, no, not everyone cares. Not everyone is a good person. Not everyone has empathy.

It’s been something that I have always done subconsciously, and only gradually became aware of how it makes me different and sets me apart. Discovering my personality type of INFJ had a lot to do with understanding myself, my strengths, my weaknesses, but also my differences from the people around me.

That award was the first indication of how I was different, even though it took me a while to understand what it truly meant.

 

How do you use your skills and talents?

I like to think I use my skills and talents to help people.

Even seemingly random things like creating custom D&D character sheets goes back to the thought of, “This will help someone and make them happy.” A lot of the things I find joy and fulfillment in revolve around making someone’s life easier or more pleasant in some way. I help solve a problem they have.

In regards to teaching, I help my students absorb the information they need, whether it’s because they’re genuinely interested, or just want to pass my class so they can keep moving through the program.

Through my use of empathy, I’m able to see why they are struggling with the information. Maybe it’s overwhelming and they need it in smaller doses, or maybe there’s fear because it’s new and scary computer code and they’re doubting their own abilities. Maybe there’s a lot going on in their personal life and they just need someone to listen so they feel less burdened or can find some action steps in that area so their mind can move forward to other areas like school work.

Now, with my transition into the medical field, it’s with the hope that I can help people who are going through situations similar to what I went through. The uncertainty of seeing a loved one in the hospital and feeling weak and powerless to do anything to help them. I want to be there to help during those moments of darkness since I, myself, have had to go through it.

I can’t make bad things not happen, but I can be there to offer support and empathy when they do happen. I can be in those situations where someone needs to not only care but to understand. I can be in those situations where a person needs someone to co-suffer with them because I have suffered in a similar way.

 

How have your peers and adults reacted to your abilities?

I have been thanked during graduation speeches for my help and compassion as an instructor. I have received awards as an employee for my hard work and dedication to my job. I have received what feels like countless emails from former students thanking me for my help and how they feel they are successful because I took the time to help them believe in themselves.

I have received awards as a student, again for my hard work, but also for my ability to harmoniously interact with my instructors and classmates.

Even now, in my phlebotomy class, my instructor has offered to write me a letter of recommendation and we’re only a week into the class.

My therapist mentioned not long ago how she knew from the first visit to her office that the energies of the Universe move around me differently. That most likely sounds weird and raises, “That’s a load of crap” flags for some people, but as an INFJ it feels like validation. I know I’m different. I’ve always felt different and that difference in my teenage years and early adulthood left me feeling alienated and detached. I didn’t fit in.

I’m not meant to “fit in”, though. I’m meant to be myself, and that’s ok.

Even the drunk guy who came down to talk to me the one night I was outside on my phone at Sir’s apartment. The one who said that I had a beautiful soul and that God had plans for me. A total stranger whom I had only seen in passing a few times and had never spoken to before felt the need to tell me he saw something “other” about me.

It has taken me a while to understand and accept my difference and it’s still something I am striving to understand fully. I might never “understand it fully” but the people I interact with seem to react positively to whatever difference there is in me, and I’m glad that I can use it to improve my sphere of influence.

 

Are you passionate about the things you are good at?

Yes. I feel it is my purpose in life. I’m meant to help people in whatever way I can. I’m meant to better humanity. I feel I will always gravitate to a teaching role. I like the idea of teaching EKG because I feel I would do well with conveying the information. I feel I do well at the dojo when I’m paired with a student who doesn’t understand the technique we’re practicing.

I enjoy showing people how to do something they are struggling with and seeing them finally understand or grasp it. That moment when their soul lights up from the inside with the feeling of pride and accomplishment within themselves. It’s a good feeling to build someone up.

In a selfish way, it charges me. I helped. I did well. It makes me feel good so I want to do it again. If I didn’t get anything out of it I wouldn’t do it. But I do, so I do.

It’s how my brain is programmed. It’s my core code. Instead of fighting it and trying to be someone else, something else, I have chosen to embrace it. I like my journey so far. I want to see where it takes me in the future.

Daily Post 012: The Weekend And Then Some

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The game plan had been to go to the dojo for submission grappling since it’s Monday evening. I think I’m going to skip out on it in favor of writing, though. I know that sounds bad, but it’s pretty understandable when I slip in the added information that I was awake at 4 am this morning and did boxing at 6 am.

Yeah… I’ve already had a pretty intense, “holy shit, my ass is kicked” workout… I don’t really know if I want another one when I still have to wake up and do a bunch of stuff tomorrow in addition to going to class. Maybe that’s me being weak. Or maybe I should listen to my body when it protests about having to climb up the stairs.

I’m going to go with the latter and hope I don’t regret it later.

So, yeah. Things. And stuff.

I started writing yesterday but didn’t really have it in me, so I stopped about two paragraphs in.

I’m pretty sure the last day I wrote was Saturday morning before the dojo. I had a good workout. I enjoy the conditioning classes. I didn’t see Jim there, but I guess he’s been busy with work. At least that’s what Akib said when the subject was brought up. That’s sort of lame. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen him.

We pulled up the mats and swept/mopped the floor under them in preparation for the new ones. That almost makes me think I should go tonight. I haven’t seen the new mats yet… Arg. No. I’m not going to go because I’m still easing back into things. I’ve only had one solid week of working out. I want to do another week of one hour before trying to up it to two.

The instructor for the Muay Thai class posted on my Facebook saying that I did well in the class. It made me smile. There was also a picture of everyone who stayed to help with the mat clean up. It made me smile and feel connected to see that on Facebook, too. It made me feel part of the dojo family.

The day was going really well after the dojo. Came home. Made a grocery list. Switched the laundry. Went to the store. Realized while I was in the checkout line that I had left my wallet in my gym bag at home…

Yeah, that sort of sucked. I had to put everything back since I was in a store a bit further from my apartment than my normal one. I had planned to get an Arby’s sandwich after the shopping which is why I had gone to a different location. I guess that just wasn’t meant to happen.

I drove home to get my wallet which is where things took a nose dive.

Warren was awake and in the kitchen so I decided to get it over with and ask him about rent.

He said he didn’t know if he would be able to pay for March.

I was quiet for an extended period of time because never in any of my imagines did I think he would not be able to pay rent since he had said he would pay February, and didn’t, so that meant he had extra money to for sure pay for March… right?….

Wrong.

When I was finally able to half way process through my thoughts I asked why he didn’t think he would be able to pay.

Finances weren’t working out.

… How are finances not working out?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wasn’t making enough or what, but he was going to figure it out.

Was there a date when he thought he would have the information?

No.

What the actual fuck?

I didn’t know what to say. How do you not know how things are not working out, and what the fuck? You can’t give me a date when you’re going to look into this information and tell me how I’m not going to be completely screwed over?

I was quiet for another extended period as the shock started bleeding into hurt. I nodded, turned around, and walked back to my car.

My hands were shaking as I drove out of the lot back to the store; the one close to the apartment this time since I didn’t want my sandwich anymore.

I sent a text my younger brother asking if he could talk.

He called shortly after I got into the store. I was standing in front of the ketchup display when I answered.

“Hey. I’m about to break down into tears in the middle of Publix and I know this is going to be an “I told you so” moment but I really, really just need you to listen to me and not say those words.”

So Jon listened to my story. He listened to me say how I felt betrayed. In the fourteen years Warren and I have known each other, in the six months since I’ve let him live here rent free, after the $4000 dollars I’ve spent to help him, and he couldn’t be up front and honest and come to me and let me know that things weren’t working out?

I had to ask, and poke, and pry, and even then I couldn’t get straight answers?

What the fuck?

How is any of that ok? How could he think any of that would ever be ok? After how he knows about my past and all of the times I’ve gotten screwed over by helping people financially and he’s going to treat me like that? He’s just going to assume after I’ve told him money is running low and I can’t cover things on my own anymore, that it’s ok to not tell me that he can’t help?

I started going from feeling hurt and betrayed to angry. Furious.

Basically where the conversation left off was getting information about removing Warren from the lease. If push comes to shove I need him to leave so I can find a roommate who will actually contribute to the apartment. I knew I needed to have another conversation with Warren, but I also knew that night was NOT the night to do it.

Big Bad and I made plans to hang out. The idea was to watch 13 Assassins. I asked if he wanted to drink.

Big Bad: Heck yeah

Awesome. I didn’t have intentions at the time to get super drunk. Just a drink, maybe two, to take off the edge of the emotional pain. I wanted to indulge a bit in being irresponsible because it looked like the future was going to be a shit storm. You know… one last hoorah before going back to the grind of figuring out the cluster fuck that my life looked like it was about to turn into.

Well… Saturday Big Bad and I got pretty… intoxicated. Yeah. We’ll go with that. Intoxicated sounds so much nicer than trashed.

We started by going out to dinner, which was nice. He wouldn’t let me pay even though he paid for our movie outing after the Warrior Dash. He said once I had a job I could celebrate by taking us out. Totally, going to remember he said I could pay and do that.

We went back to his place where we had the bit of Disaronno with Dr. Pepper. I found that mix from Frank when I went to the Cards Against Humanity nights he hosted. He hasn’t done one in a while, but that’s our go-to drink for those events. We call them Double Ds. XD

Anyway, I didn’t have much left, so when it was gone Big Bad asked if I still wanted to drink? I did, which isn’t really normal, but since I was in a “zero fucks given” mindset I didn’t care.

Yes, I wanted to keep drinking. I wanted to have a good night and not worry about being responsible or figuring things out or not having a hangover in the morning.

I most likely could have driven. We didn’t have that much, but Big Bad did instead. He drove my car since he said his truck wasn’t clean. I was fine with it. I trust him, and we made it to the store and back without incident.

I guess me trusting him to drive my car seems less like a massive leap of faith when I mention that he’s let me stay at his house unsupervised while he’s gone to pick up pizza for us. Somehow I think leaving someone alone in your house outranks letting someone with a clean driving record drive your car while you’re in it.

So yeah. We got a bottle of 151 rum and continued to mix it with the Dr. Pepper we had.

The only thing I have to say in regards to that is, “Holy crap.”

Way stronger than what I’m used to. Wicked hung over, but the night was amazing and I regret none of it.

Big Bad had birthday balloons in this kitchen. He asked if I wanted to write messages on one. He said he would write messages on the other one and then we could go outside and let the balloons go together, letting our messages leave.

I said yes.

I wrote a message to Warren #1, my current roommate who isn’t paying rent. I said that I hoped this situation didn’t ruin our friendship but that this was a situation of survival now and that I had come too far to not choose myself. I would take care of myself first before helping others and that included him.

I wrote a message to Warren #2 as well.

I guess I should backtrack a little.

While Big Bad and I were at dinner, sober, we talked about our past relationships. I told him the whole situation with Zane, before mom’s hospitalization, the events during it, and the events after her death. I think he understands my feelings better.

He told me about his ex-wife. I appreciated him opening up and telling me more about their history. I asked if in hindsight he thought the divorce was a good thing even though he was against it at first.

He said yes. There had been more bad times than good, and that he had wanted to stay together for his children, but that now he thought it was better to be separated; not only for himself but for his kids as well.

I’m not sure how, but Warren #2 was mentioned and Big Bad asked about the story for him.

It was hard. I had to stop a few times during my telling of it. But I told him. I told him everything. The fight before hand. The rape. Being suicidal afterward.

I told him that I try really hard to remain friends with my exs because I was with them for a reason. I cared about them. But Zane and Warren #2 are two people that I don’t want to see again. I can’t be “the bigger person”. I still want them to hurt the way that I and others have hurt because of them so they know what it feels like. So they know what they’ve made other people live through. I want them to hurt so they learn and become better people. I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to wish pain on others, though, so I still feel like there are issues for me to work through.

Part of working through that was writing my message to Warren #2. In my message, I said that I would not give him the power to rob me of my present. I would not allow myself to live in fear of relationships and love and kindness because of what he did to me. I remember I told Big Bad that when you’re punched in the face by someone who says they love you it makes you question what love is.

I’m not going to let my fear control me. I will acknowledge it and I will relearn how to have healthy interactions. I feel like that’s what Big Bad is helping me do.

He has been nothing but accepting of me and supportive of the things I’m trying to do with my life. Saturday night was another instance where I bared emotional scars to him. Jagged, deep, sensitive scars and instead of thinking me as broken he listened and heard me. He held my hand while I told my story, and when we released our balloons with our messages into the night sky he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him so my back was pressed against his chest.

We drank more. We got bored with the movie and instead went outside in the backyard and started a fire in the firepit. It was the first time I’ve been in his backyard. He has two dogs that he normally keeps outside so it was the first time I got introduced to them.

It felt nice being able to be drunk around someone and for it to be a pleasant, fun, positive experience. I know I’ve had a few drinks while I’m with Sir. I’ve had drinks with Frank and everyone, but Saturday was different. I have a lot of memories of being afraid to drink when I was with Warren #2 because I knew we would end up fighting and I wanted to be sober in case I wanted to leave.

I didn’t have that worry with Big Bad. I knew I was safe and that I could enjoy all of it with him. And this is where I sound crazy as an INFJ and talk about vibes and feeling things, but it’s true. It was fantastic being drunk and all of my mental barriers being down and completely open to the energy around me. I didn’t have to hold back, and I didn’t. He didn’t.

Even though we both had headaches and felt rough Sunday morning it was an amazing night. All of it. The conversation by the fire, the balloons, the sex. I regret nothing. Not even the hangover I had to suffer through.

I can definitely say neither of us wants to drink like that ever again. At least not for the next foreseeable ever, but from our conversations since Sunday morning, I think we both enjoyed it.

Sunday we had coffee together once we finally got out of bed. Which took a while.

When I got home Warren was awake again. I didn’t want to have the conversation yet, but I did let him know that Jason and Jon weren’t going to help me financially. I didn’t ask Jason or Jon if they would. I think if I worded my request right they would, but I don’t want them to because it’s not me who’s not able to hold up my end of the deal. It’s Warren and I don’t want them supporting him. It’s not their responsibility to help me help someone else. So I felt like I needed to let Warren know that. I can’t do March on my own and I’m not going to be getting help from my family.

He said he understood and would figure his side out.

I went to my room after that and continued to feel like crap, not just because I was low energy from drinking, being up late, and in general recovering from the amazing night I had, but there were the nagging guilt and building stress of returning to reality. I curled up in bed with Scarlet and stayed there for most of the morning.

Big Bad was supposed to meet Corey to give him a check for computer parts. Not sure if I mentioned it anywhere but Corey is in the process of building Big Bad a computer. I thought it was going to be a quick meeting just to exchange funds.

It turned into Corey, Chelen, and Big Bad having lunch at my sports bar. I got an invitation asking me to join them, which I did. It was nice. We sat outside in the fresh air and shaded sunlight. A breeze was blowing which felt calming against my skin.

I think going out was probably the best thing I could have done for myself. It got me out of bed and showered. It got me back outside, moving around. It got me to eat a salad of tasty awesomeness and drink some more water.

Big Bad actually asked me back to his place after lunch. I don’t know how either of us could still want or even accomplish sexy time, but the human body is amazingly resilient.

When I left for the second time I came home and ended up going to sleep fairly early. Can’t imagine why…
I woke up at 4 am. It was an “awake” awake. One of those “This is a day where things are going to get done” type of awake. There isn’t the grogginess of having to fight through sleep, the dragging of one’s self out of the warm bed. I was ready to get up. I wanted to get up. I had things to do.

When I went downstairs Warren was awake, watching TV on the couch. He works nights so him being awake so early is normal. I sat on the couch next to him and was quiet for a little bit.

Eventually, I asked, “How you would feel if our situations were reversed?”

I still felt hurt and betrayed. I didn’t want to feel like that, but how else am I supposed to feel? I really wanted to know what his perspective was.

Warren: I know you’re probably tired of helping my sorry ass. I know I would be.

We had a really long, in-depth heart to heart conversation. We brainstormed different ideas, he told me different things he was looking into. He told me why finances weren’t working out. I told him how his choices were affecting me and why I felt the way I did.

I said by him not telling me about his situation that he took away a lot of the choices I could have made had I been given more time.

I think we’re on the same page now. I think we both feel better and less “the world is ending”. I’m going to give it until Monday before pressing more on the topic. I want to see what happens in a week.

I went to boxing this morning. I came home and made breakfast.

Oh. That reminds me. Big Bad and I figured out that the end of February will be when we’ve known each other for six months. It’s odd. It feels longer than that. We had been talking through texts so I sent one saying, “Happy slightly early six months of knowing each other”

He thought it was cute.

While I had been at his house Saturday, before the drinking, he said he had gotten something for me. I have mentioned a few times how the coffee I make at home is from instant powder and how I enjoy the coffee we have together in the mornings. He uses a percolator and actual coffee grounds. It’s different from mine and I like it.

Well while Big Bad had been out shopping for things he got me my own percolator and container of coffee to have at home with me. I absolutely love it. I totally hugged the box in front of him.

I used it for the first time this morning, sending him a picture of the percolator sitting in its new place on my stovetop. It actually looks good there. Most of my appliances are black and stainless steel so the percolator blends with everything. It makes my brain happy to see a gift from someone I care about in my environment. Even better that it fits and looks like it belongs there. And it’s something useful.

Best gift ever.

After eating I got ready for class. I picked out the threads I needed for a new cross stitch project. Its something for Big Bad. I think he’ll like it and I want to do something for him. I’m not sure if he’ll be overjoyed by it or anything, but I think it will mean something to him. If nothing else I think he’ll like it because it’s cute and from Star Wars.

Class was good. We started learning about EKG pathologies. There’s a lot of them. x.x

After class, I went to my sports bar. It’s something I’ve budgeted in for the next weeks. Instead of cooking lunch I go to my sports bar for a water and small salad. I study, make flash cards, research, whatever I need to do.

It keeps me out of the apartment for longer, resulting in more light and gives me a place to work since I don’t have a separate office space at home. I don’t work well in my room.

While I was at my sports bar I got an email from my contact at the hospital. He was forwarding me a job posting he thought I would be interested in. He said if he saw any others that he would send them my way.

I took a look at the posting. It’s for a Central Service Technician – Uncertified. Basically, I would be helping to sterilize surgical equipment and setting up the trays for surgeries. Part of the job would be getting certification within the first year of being hired.

I think I would seriously like that job. Cleaning, organizing, mostly introverted work. I would be working nights, which is a little lame, but they would be on the weekend which is sort of cool. That was one of the things I wanted. A job that left my week mostly open.

With a set schedule like that, I could look at getting a part time job after my classes finish. I’m hoping this pans out. I feel like I would like this position more than the position I interviewed for on Thursday. I think this posting is new enough that it hasn’t been filled yet, and I know my resume looks way, way better than it when I applied for the patient transporter position. I have two addition certifications listed, I have the CNA and EGK certifications in progress… On paper, I look way better for an entry level medical position that what I did two weeks ago. Go me. Hopefully, it works in my favor.

So I eventually came home and applied for that after calling Jon to tell him about the posting and finishing my flash cards. It was hard to sit and finish working on them after getting the email, but that’s part of the deal I have with myself for getting lunch out. I can do it only if I do my work. So work had to be completed first, then I could dash home to create a new cover letter and go through the online application process.

Once that was done I emailed my files directly to my contact at his request. That was around 4 pm. Since I haven’t heard back from him I’m going to assume that my information won’t be passed forward until tomorrow, but I’m hopeful.

It’s awesome knowing that my contact is actively looking to help me and that he wasn’t just saying pretty words in his last email to me. He reached out to me with a posting I didn’t even see even though I had checked the hospital’s page just last night.

Currently Big Bad is waiting for me to finish writing so we can hang out tonight. We’re both tired so hopefully, it’s a quiet night we were both relax and unwind from our busy days. I’m looking forward to it, and the morning where we maybe do strength training. Tomorrow will be a dojo day for sure. Jujitsu so I can finally wear my new gi.

It’s still too clean. I need some blood, sweat, and tears on it. Can’t get my blue belt otherwise. : )

Musing Moment 100: 2017 Resolution

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This is the first New Years without mom.

I had thought today would be hard, but just like my birthday and Christmas I made it through this day, and I’ll make it through the night, and tomorrow, and the days after.

Sitting here in the relative silence of my room, since it can only be so quiet with fireworks going off, I’m struck by how much I have been changed by the experiences I have had this year.

It started with running my first Warrior Dash on February 6th, an event I am about to do again. That race helped me overcome so much negativity in my past. Hurtful comments. Self-doubt. Things which were like cancer, eating away at me from the inside, irradicated. Gone. A stronger me taking the place of the person I had been only an hour before, emerging from the last giant mud pond with the unshakable truth of knowing I had completed the race. I WAS good enough and I had proven it to the most important person; myself.

Then March 28th dawned. At three in the morning I woke to what seemed like an endless stream of messages on my phone from my family trying to reach me while I slept with my phone on silent.

Mom was in surgery and we didn’t know if she would make it. I spent five hours on the first plane I could get to. Five hours of not knowing if she would be there when I landed. Five hours of begging the Universe with everything I had for her to hold on long enough for me to say goodbye.

This year taught me what it truly means to beg. I feel that is something most people don’t understand, can’t understand until they are in such a situation. Until it’s life versus death and you would give literally everything in your whole existence if only for a few more moments of life.

The two weeks that followed allowed me to understand what true devotion is. I devoted two weeks of my life to the kindest, most caring, most loving person I will ever have the grace to know. There were a lot of excruciatingly hard moments while mom was in the hospital, but there were a lot of really good moments, too, and I cherished every moment of every day because those were moments she was alive. Even if it was a bad moment it was amazing and I clung to it for not knowing if it would end.

And then April 4th, 2016.

Mom died.

It’s a cold, sobering fact in my life. Saying those words, typing them doesn’t cause the anguish it once did. It’s not that the words are easier. It’s more like the grief I feel is something I have grown accustomed to. I understand it better. I cope with it better.

At first, I raged against it. Struggled. Fought. I tried to control it with logic and rationalizations.

But emotions don’t work that way, and the more I tried to force the emotions to be something they weren’t, the more they swelled up until they were overpowering tidal waves that pulled  me down, submerged me, immersed me until the only things in life were the emotions I tried so hard to deny.

For the longest time, I struggled with accepting the terms “grief” and “grieving”. They felt so hollow, so empty. They didn’t encompass everything I felt. They didn’t capture the burning, scorching fire of rage. They didn’t capture the sinking feelings of hopelessness and isolation. They didn’t convey the apathy and flatlined stillness that filled most of my days. They didn’t carry the icy weight of abandonment.

It wasn’t until someone made the offhanded comment that grief transforms a person that I began to understand what I was going through. Grieving is a type of transformation. It’s not a destination or an emotion. It’s a process wrapped up into a single word.

Transformations take effort, and energy, and willpower, and time.

Looking back at all of the events, mentioned and unmentioned, which transpired this year I’m left aware of how this year has shown me who I am.

I am my mother’s daughter. I am one of many people who continue to carry her light. I will shine, and guide, and mentor, and I will be the person my mother raised me to be.

My resolution this year isn’t to form a new habit. It’s not a goal or a number to reach or a career placement to achieve.

My resolution is to be happy.

That was one of my mom’s last wishes for me. For me to be happy.

It took me six months to legitimately feel that emotion again. Long enough that I began to doubt my ability to feel it. I had begun to think I was broken. Damaged. My heart chakra marred for the rest of forever.

I’m not broken, though. I can still feel happiness and I will honor her wish. I will honor it this year and every year following.

I will live my life and I will live it in such a way that I am happy.

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Daily Post 086: Hanging In There If Just Barely

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Wrote this at 2am this morning, but didn’t have access to the Interwebz so I couldn’t post. It’s a bit emo. The emotions needed somewhere to go.
Today isn’t looking any better and it’s only 8am.


 

Today has sucked. And even though on a logical, detached level I know I can go and name off several things that were positive about today, and this week, and this past weekend, right now the overwhelmed introvert part of me who wishes desperately that I were home and able to sleep instead of doing laundry at 2 in the morning wants to sit and rant and scream and cry and rage that everything has sucked for days now.

 

The small moments I eke out where I read a blog here or there, reply with a comment, get one in return has really been the only thing keeping me sane and grounded.

 

How sad that I can’t even remember where the craziness started.

 

I remember witting about the potential, hypothetical, most likely not going to happen marriage idea…

 

/ briefly goes back over last daily post

 

Oh… I did write on Monday. Ok.

 

That means I get to start with the epicness of Tuesday. I biked to the bank hoping to get a money order for rent. I got there at 4:05… Guess when they close. Yep. 4pm.

 

/ flips tables

 

I went ahead and withdrew cash. I didn’t want to pay for rent that way. I wanted a paper trail, which is why I go with a money order instead, but whatever. I trust Trevor, and it’s the last time that I have to pay to him anyway. Not a big deal, and getting the cash meant the trip wasn’t wasted.

 

I biked to the gas station afterwards and got Gatorade then headed to school for the Shading and Lighting lab. So Tuesday ended up being roughly 10 miles instead of my normal 7.

 

Checking my work email is where things got not cool. Due to the Hall of Fame event this month there were two weeks where I was scheduled to work seven days in a row, including the Saturday of my race.

 

If it came between choosing work or my race, work wouldn’t win.

 

So, being the diligent employee that I am, I had emailed Clavan letting him know what was up, and requesting specific days off to make it easier on everyone. No guess work, I would rather not be here these days, by the way I’m taking the late labs for David so he doesn’t have to worry about daycare pick up.

 

Well, in the reply email that I saw on Tuesday it was suggested that I take different days off so I could be in the Shading and Lighting labs instead since their class is so much bigger than the Character Rigging class. I get that. I honestly do. Clavan is trying to make it easier on Tony who is already swamped. Having to fill in for a lab time would suck for him.

 

One of the days Clavan wanted me to work was the 6th. My race day. Soon to turn into my, “fuck work and all that it stands for, “ day. At least that was what I was thinking in my head.

 

Clavan called me at the end of the day and I mentioned how the only day I cared about was the 6th, and why I cared about it. He apologized and said he had forgotten about it. So I’m not working on Saturday. At least not this week. We’ll see how the other weeks play out.

 

The whole shading and lighting class is a cluster fuck this month. Because of the event the schedule is all sorts of jacked up. There’s a solid week where the students don’t have classes because they’re expected to go to panels and different presentations and award events and blah, blah, blah… it’s all noise to me.

 

Because of this we’re in a room that’s too small for the class. We seriously have to high jack chairs from other lecture halls because we’re short by 10, so it’s not even like it’s a small number. It’s pretty significant. And when Tony emailed the scheduling department about it their response was due to Hall of Fame there was nowhere else to put our class. So basically we have to “deal with it” is what I got out of the email conversation.

 

Yep. That happened.

 

I biked home Tuesday evening. It was a better ride than the one Monday. I don’t know if the wheel is behaving or if I’m getting used to the added resistance of the tire hitting the break pad, but there wasn’t wind when I biked home, which made it easier. There weren’t a bunch of dipshit drivers trying to run me over either, so that was a plus.

 

Zane and I ended up getting into a spat. I was over loaded when I got home. Bobby and his girl friend ended up coming over, which meant I really didn’t have a place to hide except the room. Zane followed me though, continuing to ask me questions and prod at me after I had already said I was overwhelmed, so I snapped at him. He got super pissed about that. I personally think it was disproportionate to what I said, which I can’t remember, but I remember the feeling of being trapped, of trying to get away by going to the room, and having the stressors follow me to what was supposed to be a safe space.

 

I remember him being angry. I remember feeling like a failure because I had communicated clearly. At least I thought I had. And I still ended up doing something wrong. Zane stayed in the living room doing his own thing, I think he might have played a few games with everyone who was over. I don’t know. I stayed in the room and slept until Zane woke me up by coming to bed. I got up since I was awake, had a snack of a handful of grapes, then ended up falling asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to go back to the room.

 

Wednesday. I cooked the rice and veggies that were going to be needed for dinner. I put the clothes away, and I forced myself to take time to cross-stitch. It was another windy day on the ride into work. If you ever want to know what 17mph wind feels like it’s sort of like this…

 

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I used a lower gear on the bike and didn’t give myself shit for it mentally. I kept my pace consistent and it was a good burn. I can feel my body getting back to where it was a few weeks ago, working out all of the kinks, sweating out all of the ickiness of being inside for so long. It felt good, yet annoying at the same time because I want to be a speed demon, even if the Universe has other plans about that.

 

David was sick so I had to handle lab alone. I didn’t mind. Honest. But it was the CRI1 lab. The good lab that asks lots of questions, and by the time the first four hours were up I wanted to crawl under a rock for the rest of forever. No more questions please. Silence. Blessed silence. I got 40 minutes of it where I shamelessly sat in an empty lab room eating my tuna and playing Dragonvale because it doesn’t take brain power to click on the little treasure icons that pop up on my phone.

 

The second lab wasn’t as rough as the first since there’s only six students in it. But it didn’t change the fact that I was completely exhausted by the time I was done biking home. I didn’t get a chance to work on my homework assignment like I had wanted, and by the time I got free time I didn’t have it in me to even cross-stitch much less anything else with higher brain power.

 

Zane had already cooked dinner when I got home. The kitchen was a mess, but I didn’t put energy into feeling anything about it. I showered, ate, and cleaned. I had more water, which I’ve been super good about. No dehydration headaches here.

 

Wednesday I stayed up later than Zane, but ended up going to the bedroom to sleep. We haven’t been able to spend much time together because I get home so late this month. I see him for a few hours and then he goes to sleep while I’m still amped up from the bike ride. Wednesday night wasn’t different. When I was tired instead of staying on the couch I went to the room.

 

That’s where I encountered Sleep Zane. I never know when I’ll run into him. Sometimes Zane is super sweet and cuddly, and other times he’s a complete dick when he’s asleep. Wednesday was Sleep Zane.

 

He was sort of diagonal on the bed when I came into the room, so I tried moving his feet out of the way so I could at least crawl into my little fetal position that I normally sleep in.

 

Zane: Jesus fucking Christ.

 

Sorry for coming to bed like you asked me too?

 

It wasn’t a warm fuzzy feeling. It made me want to leave. It made me hurt internally because I felt like I was doing something wrong, again. After all of the stress with work and the previous night and no real outlet for it because I haven’t been able to write, I haven’t done anything sexual since Friday, and I have no BDSM outlet, or art outlet aside from the hour of cross-stitch. Internally, spiritually, mentally I feel like I have all of this negativity building up inside me, and then I get cursed at.

 

Not cool, bro. Not cool.

 

So that sucked.

 

Around one in the morning I guess Zane was having a good dream because he started getting handsy with me. Woke me up actually and I thought things were going to go somewhere. But I guess he ended up waking up too because he said sorry, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

 

That’s when I got up and went to the couch. I slept like crap the rest of the night.

 

Zane doesn’t remember cursing at me. Not surprised. We both know Sleep Zane is an ass. He did remember touching me, though, and there was the promise of doing things later, but that didn’t happen. Later never happens in our dynamic, and right now that might be a bit of a bitter, jaded dig at him, but right now I also don’t care. I’m allowed to rant freely here and so I’m going to, that way when we have the conversation I know we’re going to have I can be rational about it rather than angry and hurt and rejected feeling.

 

So that leads into today. Originally I was going to get a ride to work from Zane. There was a 100% chance of rain that I didn’t want to deal with. After looking further into the weather forecast I noticed it wasn’t going to rain until later in the afternoon, so as long as I wasn’t a total slacker I could at least bike to work fine. After sleeping so poorly I opted not to do a 15 hour work day and to get more sleep instead once Zane left.

 

When I woke up I made breakfast and sat on the couch for a while, holding my coffee cup in my hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingertips. It was super windy outside again. Overcast and gloomy looking, like the inside of my head. I felt alone. On the outside it was in a good way. No one was in the apartment. I didn’t have to worry about pretending to be ok, or upsetting anyone.

 

Internally it was a bad alone. A disconnected alone. And there really wasn’t a way to fix that. Eventually I finished my coffee, showered, and biked against the wind all the way to work, once again staying on a lower gear and making it through the wall of Nope that kept pushing against me.

 

When I got to work I got caught up on all of my emails, both professional and personal. I took the time to reply to several people with mini-novels essentially. I completed all of the grading since Clavan wanted that done before tomorrow’s lab. That was a task, one that ate up most of my day, one that added to the never ending tunnel of “have to do”s and “must get done”s of what ended up being my day today.

 

I am glad that I added eat and drink to my to-do list otherwise it wouldn’t have happened.

 

The Shading and Lighting lab was intense. Mostly because it’s so many people in such a small room. When you’re already an overwhelmed introvert being in an environment like that is never going to go well. To top it off it was raining outside, so I was looking at that for the trip home.

 

Zane offered to pick me up, which I eventually accepted. I stitched an additional thread on my cross-stitch, but mostly I interacted with Frank who, of all days, wanted to be extroverted. We talked about bikes, and maybe doing another card night eventually, which thinking about more social obligations wasn’t helping me any.

 

I was so grateful when lab ended. As I was leaving Frank called out:

“Say bye to Jen. She’s off to run a Warrior Dash.”

 

Everyone in the lab wished me good luck, or said bye. One guy said, “I miss you already.”

 

Too cute.

 

It did make me smile and helped me hold it together as I walked back to the up stairs offices. I wanted to print out the event waiver that I have to sign along with directions for Saturday. Zane wasn’t at the school yet so I had a few minutes of silence in the down stairs break room. I saw Ari on the way out, though, so the small bubble of recovery I had been building was quickly burst, ripped to shreds, shattered. Whatever overly dramatic, mildly traumatic words you want to use to describe it.

 

I still had the post-work to-do list to work through. Dishes and cleaning and laundry before I could think about sleeping, much less relaxing.

 

Zane and I had another spat. At least I think it’s a spat. While we were in the room, before I went to do laundry, around 10ish, he mentioned that if I ever wanted to I could take advantage of him while he’s sleeping.

 

I was quiet for a long moment before I said that it was really hard to feel confident doing something like that. He asked why and I replied with because more often than not he pushes me away. When he asked how so I explained that it seems like every time I reach out he’s not interested or it’s a bad time. It’s like I’ve been conditioned for the answer to be no. I’ve learned not to be sexual towards him. That it hurts less to deal with the discomfort of being unfulfilled than to try to find satisfaction with him.

 

He didn’t like that. He said that I should go do laundry and that he was going to go to sleep. I felt like I was kicked out of the room. I took the dirty clothes basket and my backpack out of the room, set them by the kitchen table and curled up on the couch for a while.

 

I was tired of everything sucking. I was tired of being tired, of taking care of other people when it feels like they’re not returning the favor, and not just Zane. The kitchen was a disaster from Trevor and Danielle cooking their own food. John is in the middle of packing up his stuff to move out so a bunch of cups were shoved onto my shelf.

 

I didn’t want to go back out in the rain to do someone else’s clothes even though I needed to do my own so I have stuff to wear for my race. I wanted to stay home in the dark, alone. I wanted to be able to sleep well and uninterrupted. I wanted to not hurt.

 

At 12 I set my alarm for 3:30. I figured I would try to sleep for a bit, wake up early enough to get the laundry done before Zane went to work, then try to nap again at work, off the clock, since he has to drop me off early in the morning since I left the bike at school.

 

That didn’t work out, though. Zane got up around 1. I think he went to check the laundry card to see if we could do the wash at the apartment. I heard him leave. When he came back he slammed the door, literally stomped to the room, to another slammed door.

 

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I got up. Went to the room to get my towel which I had forgotten, packed everything that I needed up, and went to the car. I stopped by the bank to withdrawal a 20 since it’s my turn to add to the laundry fund. I went back to school because I had forgotten to bring my lunch containers home with me when Zane picked me up earlier. And here I am, waiting for the clothes to dry, hoping I can out write my dying laptop battery.

 

Zane sent me a messaging saying that he loves me and that I should return home safe to him. Right now I don’t want to go back. I don’t want the stress of trying to fix whatever is currently broken between us.

 

I want to sleep. I want things to be ok. I want to have alone time. But tomorrow he wants to go out for date night, so after my 12 hour day at work, we’re going to go out to I don’t know where. I wake up at 7am on Saturday for my race. Sunday John is having the Super Bowl party, so staying at the apartment will suck. Zane wants to go to Sea World, which would be great except the previous day I’m running a mud obstacle 5k. Sitting on my ass would be way cooler than walking around for an additional how ever many miles, outside, surrounded by tons of people. And then beings the week again. And that doesn’t include any sort of grocery planning, shopping, or food prep.

 

That doesn’t include any time to work on my homework, which I actually want to work on. And that’s part of my discord right now. I wanted to work on my stuff today, and I never got the chance to, so I feel cheated and like even though I got a fuck ton accomplished that it wasn’t the “right” stuff. It wasn’t the stuff that would have made me happy.

 

I’m going to be super tired tomorrow and it’s going to be an intense exhausting lab before a night out. I’m not going to get any me time in the next foreseeable ever and my introvert is not ok with that and she’s making sure everyone knows she’s not ok.

 

Reading the blogs of others, hearing of their struggles, their plans, their funny moments, it’s helped. It’s helped so incredibly much to have a genuine laugh or a moment of true connection.

 

I still feel overwhelmed. The thought of having to fold the laundry seems so heavy right now, too much. It seriously makes me want to cry because I know once I’m done there’s another task that will take its place. Another thing that apparently only I can do.

 

I don’t feel loved. And that sucks, and that’s why everything seems so much harder right now that I feel it should be. I know I’ll make it through this. I understand why I feel this way, and I understand that it is a moment in time, just like all of the other bad moments, or good moments. They’re simply moments that add together to make the picture of my life. But right now it would be really nice to feel like all of the things I do, all of the tasks I tackle and bend space and time to complete earned me something in return. And right now it doesn’t. Right now it feels pointless, and that saddens me.

 

Maybe I’ll be able to sleep when I get home. Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up.

Musing Moment 084: One Lovely Blog Award

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Thank you so much Tanya for your nomination. It is encouraging to know that my ramblings are thought of so positively. : )


 

The Rules:

Thank your nominator. Be sure to link to their blog to show some blogging love.

List the rules so your nominees know what to do without having to consult the Google.

List seven facts about yourself.

Nominate 15 other bloggers

Leave a comment on your nominees blogs so they know you have passed the award on to them.


 

Facts about the Dragon:

Oh man. This part always, with out fail, takes me forever.

I have not seen all of the Star Wars movies. And I’m not ashamed of that fact. And my nerd license can’t be revoked due to that fact because I actually make video games for a living. Take that!

Flying Lizard pose is my favorite yoga pose. Followed closely by King Pigeon. Neither of those people are me, and I feel like that should be listed as a fact, but I also think most people would think that’s cheating.

This is the third time I have had to go online and look up “Interesting questions to answer” in order to figure out facts about myself to write for a blog award.

Fuck Dr. Who. The second season of Attack on Titian was announced. Can. Not. Wait. : D

I sing while I’m riding my bike down the street, but only on days that end in ‘y’.

The only shoes I own are a pair of sandals and three pairs of Vibrams. Trust me, I thought they would be weird at first, too, but they are seriously the most comfortable shoes I have ever worn.

I hate buying “girly” body washes, shampoos, and conditioners because most of the scents give me headaches. They’re too perfumey / flowery for me. I like the scent of mint and eucalyptus best.


 

I still don’t follow 15 blogs. But. I’ll nominate the people I do follow because you guys are amazing and I love reading your posts. Thanks again Tayna, and know if you hadn’t been the one to nominate me your name would be included in this list. : )

Blogs in no logical order what so ever:

Welcome to My Little Piece of Quiet
Seven Years in a Drawer
Semper Fidelis
Runner with a Blog

The Shameful Sheep
Layers of a Rose
Little Book, Bell and Chalice
Plotless One