001: Cocooning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was and is hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what is cocooning?

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

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

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

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

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

006: The Yoga Class That Almost Killed Me

It has been a busy week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck… my life… >.<;

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

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

Why, Universe? Why do you hate me so?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

005: Doing Better

Today went better than yesterday. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a lot of switching. >.<;

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

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

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

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

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

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

004: Weekends Suck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

002: A Slight Ramble About Work and Life

Why, hello again. 

Twice in one month. Crazy…

Work has been going well so far this week. 

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

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

It was a pretty shitty workout…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I guess that’s enough rambling about work. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Evening Reflection 020: Isolating vs Connecting

Daily Summary: 

Last night wasn’t awesome. I read my writing to Ox. I was already emotionally raw before I did. I was feeling vulnerable for sharing my “ideal” which I knew didn’t 100% line up with his or Bunny’s “ideal”. 

I felt shame and guilt over wanting something different. I felt trapped in a future that would have constant interaction with people and no solitude and a disastrous kitchen and all these horrific things that as an introvert I didn’t want. 

I don’t cohabitate with others well. I know I don’t. I’ve had almost 15 years’ worth of roommates to attest to not liking shared living environments and the fallout that goes along with it ending badly. 

Looking back at last night, I wanted reassurance that I wasn’t an awful person for wanting things that were different from other people. I wanted to know that the terrible extroverted future I was seeing for myself was fear and inaccurate. 

Instead, I got, “We don’t know what the future will be like.”

That’s fair. It’s an accurate statement. It left me feeling alienated with a nebulous, “The awfulness you’re picturing could happen,” bouncing around inside my head.

I couldn’t sleep for a really long time. I had a cry session while Ox slept next to me. I ended up sleeping on the couch for most of the night. When Ox woke up to use the restroom he woke me up to give me a hug.

“You’re allowed to come back to the room.”

I don’t know why those words were the words I didn’t know I needed to hear, but it felt like even though I was up in my feels that I had permission to be next to him. Even if my wants were different, things were still ok. 

After that midnight wake up, things were better. I slept deeply after curling up in bed with Ox and the kittens. I didn’t dream about dead bodies and ruined lives. 

Ox and I slept in a little this morning. We were tired from cleaning and working in the addition the day before. We waited until after breakfast to get back to work. We finished putting up the joists in what will become the living area upstairs. We’re saving the insulation work for next weekend when the kids are here. There’s some work that will require the electric stapler which is something the kids might get a kick out of using. They both want to help and to be part of the project. Finding things that are within their ability at the moment is tricky, but this is one of the things they could help with, so we thought it better to call it good for now and wait on the rest of it. 

Ox and I showered after we were doing working. We packed up our things and the kittens and headed back to the rental. I convinced him to swing by a few Pokestops so I could complete one of my tasks in Pokemon Go. Totally not obsessing over the game… >.>;

I paid bills once I got the kittens situated and some other chores done. That sucked. With my brother’s contribution still up in the air, I feel the stress of financial insecurity pressing in around me.

I ended up talking with my dad for a while. The topic came up and I explained how moving with Jon went, about his previous lapse in paying rent, and now the current stress of him backing out of the agreement we had which would leave me screwed.

I’m already looking into things as back. I told my dad I feel like this is the lesson I’m supposed to learn in life; to keep boundaries around finances because no matter who it is, family, partner, friend, they’re going to screw you over. 

It sucks. So much of my life has been trying to figure out life after helping people financially only to be worse off for helping. It’s frustrating to be in this situation because I thought it would be different since Jon is my brother. But here I am, trying to deal with/cope with financial uncertainty because I wanted to help him get a house. 

And yet… he feels unloved and unsupported. 

I was supposed to see him today. He has my ladder which I need to finish painting the detail work in the bathroom. I let him borrow it so he would do work around the house only to be told that it wasn’t tall enough. So I’ve gone without my ladder for over a week now because gas is expensive and it’s too much to bring it back. 

That’s fair. I made plans to go out to his place today. I could load up the last bits of their stuff still lingering around the rental since they still haven’t come to get it. I could get my ladder in the process and knock out social time, too. All of the productiveness in one trip. 

When I messaged him, he didn’t reply. When I tried calling, he didn’t answer. 

I’m not driving out of my way without communication. I don’t want to go there for them to not be home because their out shopping for stuff for the garden or something. I don’t have money to waste on gas either, especially when I’m most likely not going to have the support I was depending on when I signed the lease for this house. 

So instead I talked to my dad. It was a good phone call. I think he wasn’t getting the full picture, which isn’t surprising because that’s human nature. We tell the details that are “relevant”. Tell my dad my side of the story changes the situation he was being told. He’s not going to say anything to my brother which I appreciate. I don’t need more drama in that area of my life. I would rather just let Jon do his thing, since that’s what he’s going to do anyway, and figure it out. 

It was a little bit after I got off the phone with my dad that Jon called me. Ox and I were about to run to the store. Jon said he wasn’t going to be going to the birthday party he was originally going to go to. It’s why I had wanted to go to his place earlier in the day. I knew he had plans and was trying to be respectful about them.

That was around 2 in the afternoon. At 5 pm, I really don’t want to drive 30 minutes to hang out with someone I don’t want to see, to drive 30 minutes back to fall into bed so I can get attempt to get a decent amount of sleep before my kickboxing class. 

So I told Jon it wouldn’t work out for me to come this weekend. Could we see about next weekend? 

“I’m too tired to care atm. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Sort of a shitty text to get. I’m not going to waste emotional energy on it. I’m tired of feeling like it’s his world and I’m just a minion in it, obligated to be at his beck and call. 

Fuck that. I will enjoy the rest of my evening. I’ll do my writing. I’ll have dinner with Ox. I’ll spend time with the kittens. I’ll game for a bit and rest before having an awesome class tomorrow. I’ll be mentally ready for work. I’ll get the rest of my chores done. I’ll do all of these things because I didn’t go out of my way to make your life easier like I’ve been doing for so long. 

Instead, I’m going to make my life easier. For once, deal with your own shit and keep your petty comments to yourself. I’m tired of trying to hug a cactus. 

So that’s where I’m at. Intentionally not hugging a cactus and instead, I’m taking a break from gaming to write. It’s a nice evening and I’m not going to let someone else’s real or imagined emotional “not-okness” mess with mine. 

Why does family have to suck sometimes? >.<;


Random Ramblings: Prompt 8-31

Think about the second biggest role that you play in your life for others. What’s your vision (in detail) for your life in this area? Why?

The irony of this being the next prompt is not lost on me. 

My second biggest role is family member… and on look… one of my family member dynamics is on fire. Fml…

I feel like family is supposed to be the people you turn to when you need help. Not exactly financial help, though mom did that for all of us at one point or another. 

Family is supposed to be there to help you when you fall. Maybe it’s a shitty relationship ending, or work going to shit. Maybe it’s just needing to bitch about something to get it off your chest.

I don’t know. I think about the type of support mom was for me and I feel that’s the type of support family should be for each other. You stay connected. You talk. You visit. You laugh and cry and worry and figure things out. You have connective lunches or cups of morning coffee together. 

I want to be that for my family and I am extremely aware that I am not.

I am out of touch with my cousin. Until today I hadn’t talked to my dad in a while. I hardly ever talk to my older brother and sister-in-law. I am not a figure in my nephew’s life. I wish I wasn’t a figure in my younger brother’s life. I haven’t talked to either of my uncles since my mom’s death…

How can I say I’m a family member at all?

All of my effort has been going to my younger brother, to be told he feels unloved and unsupported while he keeps going back on his word…

In my ideal “family fantasy”, I talk to my dad, cousin, and older brother more. I’m most likely a terrible person, but there are very few people I want to talk to in my family past that. I was never close to my uncles, I wasn’t very close to my dad’s family either. 

I want to focus on those three dynamics more and less on my brother. I want those people to know I care for them; that I truly love them. 

I want to visit my older brother. I want to hang out with my cousin like we did growing up. I want them to know I’m still here. 

Maybe this is all screwed up in my head right now because of the discord between me and Jon. 

I want to feel like I still have family even though mom is dead. I want to know I matter to them even if I don’t sacrifice my financial well-being to prove I love them. 

Maybe that’s what I need in this area. To reconnect with people who aren’t as toxic as my younger brother. 

Maybe I messed this section up. Maybe family member isn’t my second biggest role. If it isn’t, I don’t know what would be. I don’t know what else I am other than partner, family member, and worker. 

In my fantasy land, I am connected with my family because they love me for me, and I love them for them. It’s not from a sense of obligation or requirement. 

Much like my previous writing, I don’t know what I want from this one. I don’t know what I’ve found other than unease, vulnerability, and hurt; not just from my inaction within these dynamics but from the actions of my brother. 

These writings are supposed to help me find myself. Right now they are showing me my pain and that sucks. You can’t heal, grow past, or change something until you acknowledge what is actually going on. 

I’ve been isolating myself from the people I should connect with and connecting with the people I should be distancing myself from. 

That sucks. 

I’ll add it to the list of things to work on. 

Evening Reflection 013: Facing My Mirror

The past two months, maybe longer, have been a continuous disaster of my own making. I am left lost and confused with my identity in shambles. While there has not been a death in my family, like the loss of identity I felt when mom died, there has been an internal death. The death of myself as I knew me; of what I thought I was, who I thought I was. 

It’s a complicated topic. One I have been avoiding. Writing is my mirror and I haven’t been willing or able to face myself. I don’t know if I’m any more ready to do it now, in this moment, but I feel strong enough to make it to the outcome regardless of what it may be. 

I can face my painful truths and acknowledge my actions. I can face the death of my identity and begin the work of finding who I am in the aftermath. 

This writing is that start. 

To begin… what did I do that was so bad it killed who I thought I was?

I cheated on Ox. 

There is so much context removed from that statement. So much I want to say, not to justify, but to try to explain. To try to beg understanding from not just the outside world, but from myself that I’m not the type of awful person that word is typically associated with. 

Discontinuation symptoms were still going on. Ox and I bearly had a relationship at the point all of this happened. I had spent 3.5 years asking, begging, crying to be heard; to be understood. “I feel like the video game is more important to you.” “What makes our relationship significant?” “How are we any different from roommates?”

All of these things… all of these interactions and questions and attempts to express that I wasn’t ok… seemingly brushed aside or invalidated. 

None of my failed attempts at communication nor the true or perceived dismissals of my emotions justifies hurting someone I did and still do, care deeply about. I tried to not say anything about my actions, knowing that if I were honest about what happened that the life I had been trying to piece together, hold together, would fall apart. 

I couldn’t keep it a secret though. I couldn’t keep talking to Ox on the phone, or the few times we would see each other, and not admit to what I had done. My silence was making me sick. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping. I was hating myself more and more. And so yeah… I told the truth. Late, but at least in the end, I owned my actions. I hold onto that. It wasn’t found out through snooping on my phone or hacking my email. I faced the consequences of my actions, and I hold on to that because it feels like one of the only things I have to hold on to. 

That moment, my honesty, was the start of true hell. Ox said, texted, and wrote through email several hurtful things. None of it I blame him for. All of his feelings were justified. All of his responses understandable. The question of how could I? Did the four years we were together mean anything? “Fuck you”. “I hope I never see you again”. 

Eventually, he released me. If you’re into BDSM you may or may not understand the level of hurt that can feel like. While we did not have a very strong D/s dynamic or a true BDSM relationship, it was the knowledge he released me from everything. The loss of our friendship, being released from the whole of his life… more than any other comment or phrase thrown at me… that one word, the knowledge of what it meant, hurt the most. 

For nearly a month, Ox and I didn’t talk. We separated finances. There were only a few things that needed to be resolved at later dates. As the time frame for those things drew closer, I reached out through email to see if I needed to continue covering some of the financial aspects.

That led to more open, receptive, and less emotionally reactive communication. Ox and I ended up seeing each other to talk about both sides; yes, even my side. 

These conversations were hard. I felt, and still feel like my emotions don’t matter. I’m the one who caused all of this hurt and devastation. I do not deserve compassion, empathy, understanding, or love. 

I deserve to be alone, lost, and crushed under the weight of not only failing my most supportive partner but of failing myself as well. 

Ox opened up to me during those conversations. He explained what the past 3.5 years had felt like and been for him. How he felt like he always had to be strong for me and hold me up. I never wanted to be held up. I wanted to be held close, and I told him that. 

I told him I didn’t know he sometimes cried when I wasn’t at the house. I didn’t know he felt like he couldn’t share his feelings with me because of all the crap I endlessly have going on in my life. I wanted to know how he felt. I needed that emotional intimacy with him and the lack of it was part of why I felt we had no connection. 

We have talked through so many things in the weeks following that initial email asking about car insurance. 

We are together again. The other night we agreed we are still engaged. 

We are working to figure out how we both fell short of each other and to work to make version 2.0 better for both of us. 

I don’t feel like I deserve this chance. I don’t feel like I deserve Ox’s love. I feel unworthy and that is what is currently holding both of us back. So… here I am… writing as a way to figure myself out. 

I don’t know who I am. I broke all of my values and morals. I’m a liar. I’m a cheater. I am honorless. I am unworthy. 

That’s how I feel. I am less than dirt even though I know I’m not. 

So… since I didn’t know how to find my way back to myself, I went to the internet to see if there was anything for “finding yourself” or “identity crisis worksheets”. I didn’t really find anything I connected with until I found some writing prompts for “Who am I?”

I read through them briefly. I may not like all of them, I didn’t read all of them, but I do feel they will help me start to find my way back to myself. So… this is my first writing in this attempt. There are 31 prompts on the page I found. We’ll see how many of them I completed. 

Prompt 1-31: Who’s your biggest critic? Who do they say you are? Why?

I am my biggest critic. No one, ever, will be able to hurt me worse, emotionally, or mentally, than myself; the only possible exception being Ox when he said he never wanted to see me again, or when he admitted to telling his mom, “Fuck that bitch.”

I say I am worthless. I say I am a failure for this transgression. I say that there is no recovery for my character. My morals are broken and will remain so forever and there is no hope of me ever being to undo the damage I have caused. 

I say all of these horrible, awful things inside my head. I say them when I’m alone. I say them in between my calls at work so I cry in between helping people fix their financial lives. I say them as I cry myself to sleep. I say them while thinking of all of the things I could do to my physical body to make the pain I feel inside slightly easier to live with. 

I don’t want to hate myself, but it’s really hard not to. And there’s no support or anything online that I can find for the cheater because our emotions don’t matter. The emotions and feelings leading to the event don’t matter. The anguish after doesn’t matter. No one cares about my struggle. No one wants to hear it. So I’m left alone to figure it out, but alone I am left with my own demons; my own “Crazy Lady in the Attic” who is more than glad to point out how awful I am. 

So how do I not hate myself? 

I told my therapist everything. 

Her first comments were, “There is no judgment. This is a safe space.”

I broke down. I cried, legit cried, for the first time. I felt wounded and broken and insignificant. 

“The first thing you need to do is forgive yourself.”

How? How can I forgive myself? 

Ox has said he forgives me, but how can he? How? How can anyone do that, even though I myself have forgiven previous partners for maliciously going out of their way to sleep with other people simply because they knew it would hurt me when they later would corner me in whatever room were we in and tell me how [insret name] was better than me? 

I have forgiven other people so much, but how am I supposed to do the same for myself? 

My therapist is primarily a Christian counselor. She respects my faith and she understands that I am not offended with she brings scripture into our sessions. I am able to view and hear the word “God” and apply it to my own life as “universe” or whatever term I feel suitable to use.

In our most recent session, she mentioned how we are supposed to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. 

Love your neighbor as you love yourself is conversely love yourself as you love your neighbor. It reminds me of all the times I have had to step back from a situation, almost look at myself as another person, and ask myself, if someone told me my own story, how would I react? 

Would I tell any of my friends that they were horrible people unworthy of love or compassion if they came to me in tears, questioning who they were as a person? 

No.

Did they mess up? Fuck yes. But that doesn’t mean at their core they are a bad person. 

We all mess up. Sometimes it’s a royal A+, top-notch type of fuck up. That doesn’t mean everything good in their past is erased or irrelevant. It doesn’t mean they are incapable of future good things. It doesn’t mean they are unable to learn and grow and move forward. 

So why? Why do I say these horrible things to myself? Why do I deny myself forgiveness when it has been freely given by the person who was hurt the most in this situation? 

Because I failed myself. I think that is my answer. 

In hindsight, how did I let myself get to that point? It’s not that I didn’t think anything bad would happen. It’s that I didn’t care. I felt so worthless and hopeless in my relationship, that I didn’t care if my actions messed up the relationship or hurt Ox. I was so incredibly tired of hurting and feeling alone and feeling unheard when I did try to talk about not being ok and I finally didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. I just… didn’t want to hurt. 

I look back at the events leading up to my cheating and I see how I could have handled things differently. I could have tried to talk to Ox more. I could have said, “I want to break up”. I could have said I was talking to someone. 

The guy I was talking to knew about Ox. He knew I was in a closed relationship and “all I could offer was friendship”. He knew all of these things about me, and yet, when we met… it didn’t stay just friends and in the moment I didn’t care. 

It sucks knowing that I am capable of such apathy, which for me, is the opposite of empathy. I normally care so deeply about others and connectedness and harmony. And at this moment in time, I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything other than not hurting. 

How do I forgive myself for that? 

That is what I am struggling with. 

I know that I am human. I know I am not perfect even though some people view me that way. I know that I am not enlightened. 

I am not a good nor a bad person. I am human. 

I am. I exist. I live and struggle and succeed and fuck up. 

As I started in my About Me page. This isn’t a highlight blog. This is my life and sometimes I completely and totally fuck shit up. 

This is one of those moments. I don’t know how to move forward from here. I don’t know who I am in the shattered pieces of who I was. 

I do know that I am my mother’s daughter and I’ll figure it out. 

I know that I am human and I will figure it out. 

I know that Ox and I do truly and deeply love and care for each other and WE will figure it out. 

We’re working on version 2.0 of our relationship. We’re identifying the issues we had and actively working on fixing them, on both sides, together. 

There’s so much more I’m sure I need to type about, but I’m trying to take this one step at a time rather than focusing on trying to fix all of it all at once because that’s not how it’s going to be able to work. This is one problem that is going to need time more than anything to heal and grow past. A lot of it is going to be inner work on my part. Self-awareness of myself. Ox has things of his own to work on, too. We both are committed to communicating better so both of us feel loved, cared for, and valued. 

One step, hopefully, one prompt at a time, I’ll be able to find solid ground and be able to work towards self-forgiveness and self-acceptance. 

I am capable of awful things, but I’m capable of amazingly awesome things too. 

Universe, please guide me to the lessons I’m supposed to learn through the hardship I have put myself in. Please help me find meaning in the pain. Help show me the truth in who I am. Please help me learn to love myself as I am and not the broken ideal I had in my head. 

Mom, please don’t hate me. Please still let me be your daughter even though I fucked up. Please be disappointed in my actions instead of being disappointed in me as a person. Please still love me. Please believe in me like you used to so I can believe in myself and my ability to figure it out. I love you. Forever and for always, no matter what. 

Daily Post 002: Monday Funday

It’s Monday. Woo. And here I am at the end of my day actually writing. Double woo!

I shoveled snow with Ox yesterday. We even did some work in the addition. It’s going to be a long process. I’m hoping as we get small things done, momentum will build because there will be visual progress. Here’s to hoping.

It was nice being able to do things with Ox other than computer games or sleeping. It was nice to be up and moving around rather than going crazy because it was yucky outside and I couldn’t go anywhere. 

I put two more puzzles together with Mama Ox and Lil’ Ox. That was fun. Did some prep work for things I wanted to get accomplished Monday (today). I also finished Atomic Habits by James Clear. It was a good book. I still have some chapters to take notes on. My plan is to finish my note-taking throughout the week. 

This morning I woke up, let my car heat up, then stopped at Target before going to the apartment for work. I needed a few things for meal prep. Once at the apartment I set up my new keyboard and mouse.

Going to have an introverted geek moment real quick… My new keyboard is sooooo quiet. Soooooo quiet! It’s amazing. Best keyboard ever!

Training for work was pretty uneventful this morning. I’m ahead of the other people in my group so the trainers let me do my own thing while they focused on others who needed more one-on-one time. I’ve found a lot of different “new hire” activities. I also have done a lot of “Professional Development” computer courses because I have nothing else to do and I don’t want to sit around doing nothing.

The Professional Development stuff is actually pretty cool. A lot of the ones I’ve been doing center around Emotional Intelligence and such. It’s a fun way to spend my downtime.

After lunch, my class was in “ready” status, which means we were in the queue to take calls. I got one… one call… all day… Not really complaining. I still have mild anxiety when I take a call since I’m all new and stuff. At the same time, I know I’m not going to get over my anxiety until I take more calls and prove to myself I can do this job without dying because for whatever reason answering the phone is terrifying. #INFJ_Problems

I found out John has covid. That news sucked but it wasn’t the end of my world like when I found out about Jason and his wife. Maybe because I went through this scare once already I was better able to handle the news. I think it also helps that John’s a 15-minute drive from the apartment.

Because I didn’t go to his New Years Eve party, which caused him to be pissed at me, I wasn’t exposed, so I was able to pick him up Dayquil and Nyquil. I think he’s reconsidering the whole being pissed at me thing…

I was able to leave the meds for him and his partner on the front porch. We were able to wave to each other. I don’t know… seeing him up and moving around made him having covid not as scary. Don’t get me wrong, he looks and sounds miserable, but he isn’t a billion miles away. I do think that helps keep my fear in check. 

After I was done being an amazing sister, supplying loved ones with drugs, I got a bunch of cleaning done at the apartment. I have a bag of stuff for Goodwill again. I finished cooking not too long ago. I haven’t finished my cross stitch like I was hoping to. I didn’t start my new puzzle either. I guess I’m alright with that, though. Today has been a decent day overall. 

I did find out my health insurance is expired… I have to call HR and figure that out tomorrow. I got my new eye insurance card set up. I rescheduled the dentist appointment I had. Originally I made it while I was working at DaVita. Since my schedule is drastically different now, I had to change the time. 

I talked to my cessation coach. Things are going well in that department. I’ve been keeping my cigarettes in the car while I’m at the apartment. If I want to smoke I have to go down three flights of stairs, smoke outside in the cold, then come back up. I can’t get them unless I’m on a break since I can’t be away from the computer that long. That helps cut a lot out because fuck stairs. Oh. And cold, snowy bullshit… yeah, fuck that, too.

I have some thank you cards I need to write. I already pulled the cards out so I can take care of those tomorrow. 

The morning routine I outlined yesterday went fairly well today. Not perfect since I didn’t start out at the apartment, but I was able to get nearly everything done, so that’s a good feeling. Lots of green marks from all of the tasks I accomplished. I’m mostly through the evening stuff, too. More good feelings. 

Since I have about an hour before bedtime, I’m going to go for now. Maybe I’ll be able to sneak in a bit of stitching. At the very least some reading. That would be a nice way to end everything; some quiet personal time.

Daily Post 001: Starting 2022 With an Apology

First post of 2022. That means Daily Post numbers reset. Woo. At the same time… I only wrote 10 times last year… That’s something to reflect on at a later time.

For right now, let us start off with the most obvious INFJ thing to do… apologizing. XD

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I’m sorry, Universe. I don’t really hate you and it was unfair of me to use those words when cursing you out in my previous post. I’m not sorry I called you a mother fucking son of a whore because sometimes you are one. But I am sorry that I lashed out and used inaccurate words to express my feelings of frustration and helplessness. You do not deserve hate; after all, you’re only doing your job even if during the moment it makes you look like an insensitive bastard.

I do love you and I appreciate all of the good things you have given me and allowed me to experience.

Hugs and Kisses – A slightly Less Rage-Filled Dragon

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I felt better after writing. I talked to my therapist about it during our session Monday evening. She was proud that I utilized a healthy and effective coping mechanism to release the emotions rather than keeping them bottled up inside or potentially doing something less than healthy. I didn’t write for people to be proud of me. In all honesty, it’s a bit of a struggle not to feel shame when rereading some of my words. At the same time, I know what I felt, and I know I’m not alone in those feelings.

We all, at some point, reach a breaking point. That’s human and I would rather not feel shame for being human; after all, there’s not much I can do about that. I can either accept that sometimes I act with less than perfect grace or spend my life resenting myself for something that can’t be changed. That sounds like a waste of energy, so I would rather acknowledge that it happened, apologize to the offended parties and reflect on how I could have handled the situation differently in hopes of doing so in the future.

Moving on to the other concerning issue of my last post… The kids and all family members are feeling fine. No one has had symptoms of covid. Christmas was enjoyable. Lil’ Ox loved the puzzle I got for her. We put it together Friday evening. For me, it was only 300 pieces, but that’s the biggest puzzle she’s done so far. Everyone was impressed that we were able to complete it in one sitting. It was an enjoyable experience and I’m glad I was able to spend time one-on-one with her.

She wasn’t a huge fan of the makeup palette I got her, but she did like the sparkily snowflake nails. Maybe she’s still too young for makeup, maybe she’ll never like makeup; either is ok. If it’s not something she’s interested in there’s nothing wrong with that. I try to instill in her the knowledge that she’s perfect the way she is. The makeup was simply a gift if she wanted to play around with it; it wasn’t an obligation.

I spent the majority of the week at the apartment. It’s hard being away from the cats. I have grown to love them, which may sound weird, but it was part of the healing process for me. I got them specifically because I was having a hard time trusting and loving after mom’s death. I knew eventually the kittens would teach me how to love again and they have. So now, being away from them is hard. It’s quiet, lonely even, at the apartment by myself. It’s hard being away from Ox as well. Maybe things will change in the near future with my lease ending at the end of May, but for now, during the week I stay at the apartment most nights and try to get as many Cat Cuddles in during the weekend.

Cessation has been going well. I was at around six yesterday. Six when before I was doing 30 or more. I’m proud of myself. I’ve been reading Atomic Habits by James Clear and listening to The Easy Way to Stop Smoking by Allen Carr. Both books have interesting points and insight into human behavior. Both books have given me much to think about and reflect on.

Part of what I’ve struggled with, during the end of my time with DaVita and even into the present with Nelnet, is returning to habits I once had. There’s a lot of emotion wrapped up with everything. Shame, guilt, fear, feelings of being a failure… All sorts of stuff. Atomic Habits especially gives me clarity on why some things work and others don’t as far as habits are concerned and where the obstacles I am facing may be stemming from.

I think a lot of it comes down to uncertainty about my identity. Who am I? What do I stand for? What are my beliefs?

That had basically eroded away to nothing by the time I left DaVita, and without my previous job defining me, I had nothing to go off of aside from the feelings of burnout I was left with. Not much of a resource when you’re trying to figure out who you are, what’s important to you, or what you want your purpose in Life to be.

If I tell myself I’m a failure, that’s on me. That’s me allowing myself to assume the identity of a failure, even if I don’t want that identity. Our brain believes what it hears, especially when it comes from our internal voices.

I am not a failure. I am not weak.

I am extremely strong-willed and capable. I am a warrior. I am a fierce dragon. I am loving, compassionate, committed, and determined.

This isn’t a “new year, new me” mentality. It just happens that I began reading these books at the end of 2021 and am writing now in 2022. This was happening not because of the new year. It was happening in spite of it being a new year.

My current goal is to work on my daily habits/routines; especially those regarding the morning and evening. I need that structure back in my life, and while I have haphazardly stumbled and fumbled my way back to some of my pre-DaVita normalcy, there’s still a lot that is found lacking.

I have my sheet created, not only of habits I already do, but the habits I want to return back to, why I want to go back to them, and how/where I can fit them into my currently unstable routine to ensure they get completed.

I’ve unknowing been working on environmental architecture; arranging the apartment in ways that reduce the friction for certain tasks. Since I’m working from home, part of that architecture has been designating specific areas for specific tasks. “This is purely work”, “This is only for sleep”, “This is only for working out”

It would be easier to separate things if I wasn’t keeping my brothers room off-limits. He moved out a while ago to be with his partner, but he still pays half of the rent, so I’ve kept the room for him. Having a whole extra room would be nice and helpful, but for now, I’m doing alright with what I have. Bit by bit I’m arranging things the way I want and that not only feels good but visually having order and structure helps calm my brain. It gives me a sense of security. Everything has a place and is in that place. All is right in the Dragon Den.

So yeah, I’ve unknowingly been doing some of the suggested things in the books. Others I’m now consciously aware of, which means I can consciously leverage those concepts in my life rather than being pleased when unconscious intuition turns out right.

On the subject of consciousness… When I step outside for a cigarette now I have a new habit; one which I am hoping will deter me from the habit because it now has a “negative” reward.

Which… all of that goes into what Atomic Habits is about. We do something because the “reward” at the end is something we want. Turn it into something we don’t want and we no longer want to perform the actions which lead to the “reward”.

So… whenever I have a cigarette I take a red sharpie and I slash a line over my wrist.

I know that may sound extreme, but hear me out on this…

When I was in high school I self-harmed as a way to cope. I didn’t talk about my feelings. I internalized them, and cutting became my method for releasing the emotions. Fast-forward to my first healthy relationship; my partner did not want me to self-harm.

Completely understandable. I didn’t want to self-harm to begin with. I didn’t want to feel worthless, unseen, unloved, and all of the other things I was feeling. I wanted to be able to share my emotions. I wanted to be able to trust people and feel connected and like I had value.

That lead to me promising not only my partner but also other extremely important people in my life (who continue to be important people in my life) that I wouldn’t self-harm. I would reach out and talk about what I was feeling before hurting myself. I learned that hurting myself hurt others and though conversations may be hard and there would more than likely be lots of tears, I felt better after talking with safe people than I did when I hurt myself.

This brings us to the past few days of reading and meditating.

Smoking sucks. For lots of reasons. And if we look at cutting versus smoking, smoking is way way worse than cutting ever was. So each time I step out and have a smoke, I’m effectively self-harming. The only difference is cutting gives you a visual cue that you’ve done something. You have a reminder that “hey, you did this thing that you said you wouldn’t do”.

Smoking doesn’t have that. At least, for me, it didn’t until now.

My red lines are my reminders that I choose to dishonor myself. I choose to light up and inhale poison into my body. It was a choice. No one made me do it. Choices have consequences, even if they are long-term and do not affect my present.

I now have a way to visually see what I am doing to myself. I am hurting myself. I am breaking my promises. And by hurting myself I am hurting those that I care most about.

I know some people may feel that my method is a bit extreme, and I agree. It is extreme. It’s most likely not a method for everyone. It doesn’t have to be for everyone. It needs to be for myself. When I think of how many marks my arms would be covered with had I done this from the beginning, I’m saddened. I have hurt myself so much for so long. It makes me realize that smoking, for me, was a cry for help.

“Help. I can’t do this on my own. Help. I don’t know how to cope with how I feel. Help. I hurt. Help. I’m scared of this social situation. Help. Help.”

Every time I stepped out to smoke at work it was to try to get just a few minutes to hear my own thoughts. Or when mom died; it was how I could get away from people and hurt alone because I didn’t know how to hurt around others. Not at that intensity anyway.

I am sorry for my past self. I am sorry I wasn’t there for her. I’m sorry I didn’t listen more when she said she wanted to quit.

So yeah… That’s what a lot of my weekend has been. Listening to how I can get back to my life and figuring out how to make the negative choices I’m making more apparent and real.

I’ve been cross-stitching a little bit. I’m hoping to finish the pattern I’m working on today. I haven’t colored since earlier in the week, but I’m ok with that. I have my projects with me if I feel the urge to work on them at some point. I would like to finish at least one of the books I’m reading, which I can do while I stitch.

It’s a cold day today. It snowed last night, which lead to a spat with my brother about New Year’s plans. That’s a writing for a different day. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I’m going to have breakfast with the family and be content with a quiet day.

Again, I’m sorry, Universe. I don’t really hate you. I love you, truly, even if you are a mother fucking son of a whore sometimes.

Daily Post 009: Therapy Journal and Dreams

I didn’t write yesterday, but I did journal in my new “Therapy Journal”.

I’ve been going to therapy for a while now. Not sure if I wrote about that since I’ve been writing so infrequently. I greatly enjoy my therapist. She is supportive and accepting of a lot of my mentalities. I was nervous at first because she is a faith-based counselor and since I’m a follower of Freya… yeah… the chances of there being friction were pretty high; at least inside my head.

We’ve been able to talk about faith, spirituality, sexuality, grief, fear, tiredness, medications… just… everything. Anything. And when there is a difference or something new for either of us, we’re able to talk through it and find understanding with each other. It’s beautiful. It’s safe. It lets me be me and that’s what helps to find peace and acceptance with my emotions.

Well, one thing we tried in a previous session was me doodling and writing on a whiteboard. Since I’m a kinetic, visual person, and because writing is already something that I know helps figure out or clarify my thoughts, we gave it a shot. At it was amazing. It was one of the best sessions I can remember having, and that’s saying a lot for how many sessions I have had over the course of my life.

Her dry erase markers don’t get used all that much, and several of them were nearing the end of their life. Not that I tried every single marker that she had… but if I had tried every single marker she had… I may or may not have wanted to get her new ones… >.>;

Which brings us to this previous Wednesday. Normally I have my sessions on Thursday, around 10ish. This week we met on Wednesday though. Thursday was pretty booked for her. Since I typically leave the house with enough time to have about 15 minutes to wait in the lobby, I decided to stop at a CVS and pick up some dry erase markers. While I was there, I was left unsupervised in the Office section of the store… surrounded by pens and colors, and notebooks.

There was one notebook. A half-book really. Smaller than my normal to-do list notebooks, with a hardcover, tarnished golden rings on the side. The cover itself was a blue and white design. It was calming to look at. Pretty without being glittery or flashy. Without some dumb “motivational” message on the front. Just an open, welcoming designs and blank pages on the inside.

I decided to buy it, along with a set of G2 pens. The pens I love using so much because they write so smoothly. I also got a pen case. These would be special pens. Different and separate from my normal pens, even though they are the same brand, the same colors.

These would be my therapy pens, and I would keep them in a special case so they couldn’t get lost or mixed up. And this notebook would be my therapy notebook, so I could keep my doodles and writings and notes from therapy.

My therapist was so grateful for the dry erase markers. She wanted to compensate me for buying them. I refused, saying if I had expected compensation, I would have talked to her first before buying them. It isn’t fair to do something without another’s knowledge and then hold them accountable or responsible for the effort or resources you willingly chose to expend.

Me: If they are able to help me, then maybe they can help someone else. That alone is worth it to me.

I didn’t use my notebook during the session. It was more conversational rather than introspective, which I was ok with. Instead, I reflected on my session yesterday and wrote within my therapy journal the things I wanted to remember from it. Reminders for me as we go into the holiday season and this period of restful, cold winter.

I did a fair amount of chores and cleaning yesterday. I folded all my scrubs so they can be packed away. I don’t feel it is right to get rid of them just yet. Maybe in the future, I will. But for now, they will be packed away and kept. I cleaned up the bedroom. I swept. I did more laundry. Ox came home with a ham, and I cooked it for lunch. I made my own breakfast yesterday, an egg and cheese burrito. It was warm and tasty, and I ate all of it, rather than aimlessly picking until I threw it away.

I cooked ribs the night before, having dinner ready before Ox’s mom came home.

Mama Ox: Well, this is a nice surprise.

Part of me fluffed up and felt good about making her day better. Giving her something to let her know she’s cared for and not the only person contributing to the family. Another part of me hurts because it really has been forever since I have cooked for everyone. I used to do it all the time. But for so long I haven’t because I haven’t had the willpower to. It saddens me that all of us had to go through that period of my life. That I allowed myself to go through that for so long. That it affected people I deeply care about in such ways.

But at the same time, while I feel that heartache, I’m getting better. I’m doing more. I’m feeling more like myself. Ox and I are playful again. He tickled me the other day as I teasingly tried to wake him up from a nap. There are all of these little things, things I have missed and longed for, which are slowly coming back. I haven’t made it to the gym yet, but I know I’m getting closer to going. I can feel it building within myself.

Each day I return to another thing. Being consistent with meds. Sleeping without melatonin. Eating meals. Doing chores without crying. Planning a meal and cooking it… all of these dumb, little things that are considered part of everyday life which for so long I wasn’t able to do because of depression and burnout… It’s only a matter of time before one day I wake up, rested, restored, able, and willing to take on the day, and not just the day, but my health as well.

I’ll feel able to go to my kickboxing class and be around people and bow in before stepping on the mat. I feel able to make the drive there and back without wondering “how”? How am I going to be able to do ALL of that and still make it through the rest of my day?

I won’t have to wonder how. I’ll just know, I’ll feel, that I can, and I will and it will be amazing. I’m looking forward to that day. I know it’s closer than it is far away.

Today I woke up with a headache. I also had a dream.

It was about mom. She was there. She was so alive. She nearly glowed, vitality radiating from her with a warmth and beauty that words will never be able to do justice. We were together. She was smiling and I remember thinking that I love her smile.

At some point in the dream, she turned away. She was going to go get something. Food or some such. I remember she left and there was a noticeable change in the room/environment. Her glow was gone. The absence of her warmth and presence was physically felt.

I don’t remember specifically the events in the dream. But I remember being confused. How could mom have been here? How could she have looked so alive? Hadn’t she died? The thought tore at my heart. I knew I couldn’t “just ask” that question. In the dream, I needed to find a safe person who would give me an honest answer. I remember finding them. I don’t remember who it was. But I asked, “Did mom die?”

Instead of answering, they held me, and their answer didn’t matter because from their actions I knew. Mom really was dead, and I was dreaming and when I woke up, she wouldn’t be there.

Ox had been getting ready for work as I dreamed. He was running late and a little grouchy at me when I was slow to get out of bed. I hurt from the dream he didn’t know about. He didn’t know the depth at which I hurt. He didn’t know how his words made me want to cry.

While we were outside having our morning cigarette, he asked how I slept. I told him about the dream. He held me as I cried.

Me: I wanted it to be real.

Crying turned to sobbing and through it all he held me.

I do want it to be real. So badly. I want mom to meet Ox and his family and the people who have become important in my life. I want her to be alive and smile and hug her and feel her warmth. I want all these things and I’ll never be able to have them the way I want.

And while I’m sad and tears are running down my face as I type all of this, I cling to the memory of my dream. Seeing mom happy, smiling, so… alive and well and ok. I will cherish that. I think she is happy for me. I think she thinks I’m doing well.

I know I’m doing better, but I’m still in the transition phase. I haven’t started my new job. I haven’t gone through the two weeks where I won’t get a paycheck. There’s still a lot of things that will transpire before life settles into its new normal.

The waters of life haven’t stilled just yet, but I’m still going to swim forward with strong sure strokes knowing my mom is watching me figure it out and that she’s proud of me. Happy for me.

I love you so much, mom. I miss you and I hope you’re doing well. I’m going to get through this because I’m your little Earth Dragon who Can. Your Earth Dragon who Did. ❤