Daily Post 076: Re-Finding My Routines


I’m almost at the end of my second week at my new home clinic.

That means I’ve had almost two weeks to find my routines again. I can’t say that I’m back to them 100%, but I’m getting there.

I wake up in the mornings at 3 am on the days I work. That’s thirty minutes to an hour later than what I had to do in Orlando. An hour may not sound like a lot, but trust me, there’s a huge difference between 2 am and 3 am.

Depending on how the night went and how cold it is in the morning I may shower, or not. When it’s below freezing outside I’m more concerned about being warm rather than not having bed head. I’ve been able to enjoy cups of coffee again with an egg sandwich which I cook fresh instead of having to have eggs premade because that’s the only way I’ll get breakfast if I do.

I pack my lunch box with my premade lunch containers. I add a fruit or protein bar. I add a pudding, too, but I don’t always get around to eating it. I’m not heartbroken over that fact. It’s there if I want it and for whatever reason, that’s comforting.

By the time all those things are done, it’s about time for me to head to work so I’ll go back into the bedroom and let Ox know that I’m about to leave. I’ll change out of my sleep clothes into my scrubs. I have my own locker at work so I’ve started leaving my work shoes and googles there, which means I slip into my sandals, allowing myself to stay in “gearing up” mode during my thirty-minute drive to work.

Ox and I will have a cigarette together on the porch in the darkness of predawn. Lately, I’ve been saving my coffee for that shared moment together; another added layer of warmth to my morning along with our quiet conversations and hugs goodbye. And I realize there’s not much of a “lately” since I’ve only had two weeks to figure out my mornings, and only six of those days have been ones where I’ve actually worked…

Ahhhh data… how I wish I had more of you…

I’ve gotten comfortable with the drive to Beatrice. I’m sure I’ll get iffy with it again once winter comes back and I have to really start driving in the snow and ice, but for now, with the seasons changing, the worst I’ve had to worry about was one morning when it rained. Being from Florida, that didn’t bother all that much. It just sucked that the lines on the road were a little harder to see.

I’ve been getting to work 15 minutes early. I’ve opened the water room on my own a few times so I’m comfortable with adding that to my routine. I think after the next two days of training I’ll be confident in my ability to open the clinic on my own.

Yesterday I was able to talk to my new FA about some of the changes I would like to make. She was on board with them, which is super fantastic since all of the changes would make my life as a tech easier. I also got confirmation that my certification does entitle me to a raise and that I will be retro-paid for it. Everyone still thinks I’m doing well and that I’m a good fit for the clinic. I’ve meshed well with several of the patients. I had one of the say that they’ll keep me which made me smile.

Overall, my work days are settling into a routine that leaves me with enough energy to do things when I get home, or at least with the time I need to recharge for the next day. It’s a nice change from what I’ve been used to for the past year.

My “off” days don’t have as much of a routine, but I’m trying to find one for them.

Today was my first off day where I put real effort into figuring something out. I didn’t stay home all day. I didn’t sleep all day, though I did go back to sleep after Ox left for work.

I got up around 10:30. I made breakfast and had a cup of coffee. I sat on the porch and had another cigarette as I enjoyed the cool breeze and sunlight and quietness. I showered, hoping that would spark me into actually do stuff. I’ve noticed the days where I don’t shower in the morning seem to be harder.

I made a shopping list since I needed things for my lunches at work and for the enchiladas I was supposed to make for dinner.

There was a fitness place I wanted to check out so I called and made sure it was ok to come in for a free workout. I also packed the car with more things that needed to be donated.

It was a pretty light to do list, but I was ok with that. I’ve been having anxiety over getting back into the routine of working out. I know I’m not where I was at this time last year. That’s a hard pill to swallow and it’s easier to not acknowledge that fact rather than actually doing something about it. That doesn’t get me back to where I was, though.

I miss the dojo. I miss punching and kicking things. I wanted to try out 9 Round to see if it could help me find what I feel I’m missing.

It was a decent workout. Definitely the hardest 30 minutes I’ve done in a while, but it’s not really what I’m looking for. I don’t think it would be worth the money they want. I wouldn’t be happy or fulfilled with it. Maybe if it were cheaper… but even then, I would feel like there’s something lacking… It’s only part of what I want.

I’m glad I went. I’m glad I pushed as hard as I did. I coughed for most of the day afterward because I haven’t had to breathe that deep or hard in a while. My body is sore. I’m tired and I feel like I’ll sleep well tonight. I also know that I need to drink more water before going to sleep because I’m running warm still. Blarg…

It’s a good step forward, even if it’s not the route I’ll most likely end up going with.

There are a few other places I want to check out, but I think the dojo in Omaha is going to be the one where I find what I’m looking for.

After my workout, I drove to the Goodwill to donate the stuff in my car. I still had to use my GPS to get there, but after seeing the route on my phone I knew where to go because I recognized the streets. I’m getting better at navigating and I know eventually I’ll be able to do it without double checking myself with my phone.

After Goodwill, I went to the grocery store for the foodstuffs I needed. I treated myself to some cans of Bang, the energy drink one of my senseis turned me on to. I had to use my credit card for the groceries, which that payment is up to $300 now, but I’m ok with that.

I’ve survived March. I’ve paid everything that needed to be paid. I’m doing ok, and this next paycheck is where I start recovering, assuming nothing else hits the fan. I should be getting my tax return and the check from Full Sail soon. I should be reimbursed for my certification test, the registry fee, and retro-paid for my certification. I also should get my raise for my annual review at some point.

All of those things will help once they actually happen and I should be ok until they did actually happen since nothing ever happens in a reasonable time frame… I mean, NOW is a reasonable time frame, right?

After the grocery shopping, I headed home. I stopped by the Dollar General near home since I wasn’t able to find a pumas stone at the grocery store. I most likely overlooked it or something, but it was a new store and I was proud of myself for getting everything else on my list without asking for help so I didn’t mind stopping at a second store that was on the way home to see if I could find what I wanted.

While I was at the Dollar General I got shampoo and conditioner specifically for dyed hair since the stuff I’ve been using eats through the purple dye in my hair. I’m not one to be girly or anything, but I’m used to the dye lasting for a month at least, so when I’m two weeks in and it’s already faded looking I’m not really an ecstatic camper.

Once I checked out, I hopped across the street to the gas station and got gas for the car so I wouldn’t have to worry about that in the morning or after work. I’ve been getting pretty awesome gas mileage even though I’m having to drive a bit further for work. I have literally no stoplights on my way to the clinic. It’s a smooth thirty-ish minute drive of music and sometimes an annoying driver who leaves their brights on because they’re a dick, not that I have strong feelings about that or anything…

When I got home I cleaned up the kitchen and put the groceries away. I bought premade salads. I didn’t think I would have it in me to made a whole much of stuff from scratch but I still wanted to eat well. It was a bit on the expensive side, I mean, $10 for two salads is pretty up there when you can make six for that much if you just buy everything yourself, but if it helps me keep on keeping on then for this week I’m ok with it and we’ll see how next week goes.

I listened to music for most of the day which I also think helps. I’ve found a lot of new songs that I like. I made a bit more progress in organizing and cleaning the kitchen and I was able to make the enchilada dinner for everyone.

It turned out a spicer than everyone was expecting. I wasn’t a fan of the tortilla shells either, but there’s a lot of the meat filling left over, which I was a fan of, so I can have little nacho lunches.

I resisted the urge to get lunch while I was in town, waiting until I was home to make a ham sandwich. Go me. Not sure why that matters, but it does.

Overall it was a pretty low key day, but I think I’m guiding myself back to the path I want to be on. Doing an actual workout took a lot of… something… It didn’t leave me beat, but on a mental and emotional level it took more than staying home would have and I feel I need to let myself acknowledge that. I gave a lot today. I need to not let that go.

I work tomorrow and Saturday. Saturday is a short day though, so I should be done before 1 pm. Ox has said we can do more in the addition this weekend and it’s something I’m looking forward to if the weather isn’t super crummy.

I’m looking forward to going to work tomorrow and taking measurements of the shelving in different spots so I can figure out what size containers we can use to make things more organized and flow better.

There’s a lot of things I’m looking forward to. It’s a good feeling.

On that note, I was supposed to have my therapy conversation today, but that got rain checked. My therapist wasn’t feeling well, so we’re going to try to find a time next week to talk. I’m worried about her because there’s more to the story then I feel I’m allowed to say here. It’s not my story.

I also got a message from my blacksmith this morning. That leaves me feeling sort of defeated. He says I’ve grown distant…

All of the months I was in Orlando where we didn’t talk and things were fine. With him working double shifts and taking care of his granddaughter and being busy… All of the times he didn’t reply to my messages and things were fine.

I move out of state and we go two weeks and suddenly I’m the one who’s distant. It feels unfair. What am I supposed to do differently? In my head, nothing changed. But I guess it did and I don’t know where to go with that.

I had to be understanding and secure and breathe through the feelings of loneliness and accept what I had in regards to our relationship because of the limitations it had. But when the situation is reversed I’m distant and in some way not giving enough.

It… sucks, I guess. If it was supposed to be good enough for me then why isn’t it good enough the other way around?

I talk with Big Bad more, but that’s about the same as it was. Our text messages never really touch on the deeper topics that I need to feel truly connected. It feels like small talk most of the time which is… alienating I guess. There are a lot of people like that in my life right now.

Why is it I always save writing about the deep, dark stuff that I need to meditate on until the end of my day where I need to be unwinding and going to sleep? >.<

Damn you, Brain. Damn you.

I’ll figure it all out eventually. I know I will. Tomorrow starts the two weeks of mom’s hospital stay though, so I’m not all that worried about hand-holding others through their hard times. I’m financially survived my move. Now I need to emotionally survive reliving my worst fear.

I’ll be ok. I know I will be. That doesn’t mean it will be pretty or that it won’t suck.


Daily Post 074: Another First Day


I’m back home after my first day at the Beatrice clinic.

The quiet night of studying I had originally planned has changed. And with being tired already this post is most likely going to be a bit all over the place.

The morning started off well. I didn’t get as much sleep as I most likely should have but I was ok with that fact. I got enough to sleep to make it through the day and I enjoyed the time I had with Ox last night. With the sadness I’ve been contending with and my period, and his head cold… there hasn’t been much in the way of sexual interaction.

It’s not a bad thing. It’s not like I think our relationship is ruined or in dire straights or anything like that. It’s just how things have been playing out for us recently, and I’m very aware that “recently” doesn’t leave much in the way of data since we’re still under the two-month mark.

And actually… I paused there for a second to check my calendar. I got home, here, in Nebraska, on February 13th / 14th. So really… today/tomorrow is the one month mark.

I’ve only been here one month…

No wonder things still feel new and mildly overwhelming most days. Putting my timeline into perspective helps me feel less like I’m overreacting. I feel less bad about being tired and sad and… the tangled mass of everything that I am which I still haven’t worked through and which I won’t be able to work through tonight.

Today was my first day of feeling like I was going to work. I know I’ve been at the Capital City clinic for two weeks now, but I didn’t think of that as “my” clinic. I knew it was a temporary thing and it wasn’t where I wanted to be. The team is nice, I’ve already bonded with some of the patients there, but for those two weeks it was holding out in the hopes that I would like “my” clinic more.

And I do already. I enjoy the drive more. I have literally no stop lights on my way to work. It’s mildly annoying driving that early when people leave their brights on, but the drive home was amazing. The sun was out. I was out of work early enough to enjoy it. The only thing that was missing was my sunglasses, but I’ll make sure to not make that mistake again.

I felt a little out of my element for most of the day because I was.

Me: Do you want me to set up that machine?

Me: Do you want me to make needle packs?

Me: Where are the extra cloths?

Me: Where are the band-aids?

Me: What do I do after this step on the machine?

Me: How do you adjust the parameters?”

Once I’ve been there for a few days and get a feel for the new machines and interface I know I’ll be fine. Once I get a flow for how to open the clinic on my own I know I’ll feel better and more confident in myself, but right now I’m back to feeling mildly incompetent. I’m also working with a totally new patient population again so I have the anxiety of, “Oh god. What if I miss the stick and that’s their first impression of me?”

The treatment initiations I did went smoothly, if a bit slow. I thanked each patient for their patience with me, and all of them said it wasn’t a problem. I didn’t get bad vibes from anyone and I do think we’ll all warm up to each other in the coming weeks. The more I’m there the more we’ll get to know each other.

And I have to pause again for dinner…. brb…

*  30 minutes later *

So yeah… I was writing about work…

I’m not as big of a fan of the trainer I was with this morning. She’s nice enough, but I feel I get along better with the other two people I’ve been spending time with. All things considered, it wasn’t bad. And I guess the biggest take away is that I know I’ll get better, It’s just going to take time. By the end of the week, I’ll feel more at home in the clinic. I’ll have a routine down for the drive there and back. I’ll have a better idea of how to close the clinic and what my “normal” go home times will be.

I do like the nurse I’ll be working with. That’s a plus. Like… a huge plus. I also love the person who will soon be my FA. I spent a fair amount of time working with her on the floor last week at Capital City. I think her and I both mesh really well and I’m looking forward to being able to work with her to make our clinic better because I do feel there are a few things that can help make things flow smoother.

Anywho, I didn’t go to the gym today. Mainly because I forgot my gym shoes at home. I forgot to put them in my bookbag when I switched everything over from my gym bag. I’m not going to need my gloves and shinguards for a while, which in a way makes me sad. I miss sparing. I miss my dojo. I miss being able to hit and kick things and pushing myself hard. I miss jumping boxes and flipping tires like a bad ass. I also know I’m not there at this moment and that, for now, all I really need is a backpack, so that’s what I’m going with.

Ox is going to have his kids this coming week since they’re on spring break. They were supposed to be here Tuesday night, tomorrow, which left me tonight to have to myself. I had planned to study. I had planned to write, which I’m glad I’m doing.

Well, we’re going to be getting them tonight instead, which sort of messes stuff up. I have to work tomorrow which means going to sleep early to wake up at 3 am. It’s their vacation. They are not going to want to go to sleep super early and the electronics are in the bedroom. At the time I still didn’t really have my own “away” space in the house to retreat to when / if I began to feel overwhelmed.

Coming home, tired, to the news that his kids were going to be coming over shortly made me feel defeated. I have to study for this test. I have to be ready for another day full of new tomorrow. Another day of pushing my brain to its limits, trying to absorb everything as quickly as possible so I can prove that I’m worth keeping on the team.

I don’t have it in me to get my ass spanked at Minecraft by a seven-year-old in addition to everything else I have to keep going at the moment.

Ox and I have worked it out, though. We cleared a corner in the addition for me and set up a table there for when I need to have my quiet time. I can take the Wonderboom speaker Big Bad got me for my birthday and listen to music. I can study there without kicking the kids out of the room. I can use the Surface as long as it has a charged battery. I can cross stitch, and there’s a part of me who wants to take a puzzle out there to work on because I’ve been wanting to work on a puzzle since I’ve gotten here.

I know the closet where my computer is set up is my space, but that corner is more of a safe space at the moment then the closet since I can legitimately be on my own without being a hindrance to anyone.

As the weather warms up and Ox starts feeling better and I begin to spend less energy on settling in, the addition will continue to get cleaned up and worked on. I’ve already spent a day out there, I think it was last week, organizing and throwing things out. That’s why we were able to so easily create the space for me tonight we were able to.

I’m grateful that even though he called out of work today due to being sick that he took the time to make me feel as comfortable as possible. A lot of our situation isn’t ideal, but we’re both making it work as best we can for each other. At least that’s what it feels like.

I have about an hour left before the kids get here and I still need to shower and prep for tomorrow, not that there’s really much prep work to do.

I need to make sure my shoes get into my bag. I should get out of work around 1 pm so I would really enjoy going to the gym before coming home. I want to make sure my scrubs get put out so I don’t have to make a bunch of noise in the morning getting ready.

I want to take my contacts out since I’m home and I no longer have to deal with the day. I want to take my bra off and get into pjs and still enjoy a quiet night, maybe with the cup of hot chocolate I’ve been wanting for days but still have yet to make.

Different doesn’t mean bad. Tonight doesn’t have to be bad.

I’m worried that not wanting to do much with the kids means that I’m a bad person or will, potentially, be a bad parent, but this is another layer of new that I’m having to adjust to. I’ve never been in this situation before. Big Bad had kids but he kept me separate from them.

I haven’t had years to learn how to be a parent. I’ve sort of thrown myself into this situation and now I have to figure out how to fill this role. The past weekends the kids have been here have been a nice, slow progression. The first weekend I had the hotel room so after spending a few hours at home I would drive away and spend the night at the hotel. I wasn’t staying at the house with them.

This past weekend we talked to both kids and they were ok with me staying at the house while they are there. They enjoy spending time with me, and, as far as we know, they both like me.

This is going to be a week of no break. This is going to be the closest to being a parent I have ever been and there’s part of me who’s terrified. I don’t know how to do this.

It’s reassuring knowing that Ox thinks I’m handling things well, and it’s a bit easier to see myself surviving knowing that I have a quiet spot to go to when I need to. I could take the kitchen drawers out with me and paint them. I could cross stitch, or draw, or continue to pick through and organize things in the addition.

There’s more than just me being trapped inside of a room connected to the living room where everyone hangs out. I have a place where I can not be in the way.

I don’t know. I think things will be ok. I think I have a better shot of doing this “right” then I did when I first got home.

And with that, I’m going to go so I can shower and do the things I need to do before studying and going to sleep.

I know there’s still a lot about “The Great Before” that I need to write about. My 21-hour drive from Orlando to Nebraska, my first weeks here, all the things I have and haven’t done…

After a month of being here, I’m finally at my home clinic. After a month of being here, I have a quiet spot. After a month of being here, I no longer feel awkward moving around the house. I don’t feel awkward pouring myself a glass of milk or using a container to fill up my water filter.

There’s still a lot of adjusting to do and I know right now my main goal is to survive through March, which is sort of short-sighted of me I suppose since right after March comes April and mom’s death day, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. I need to survive the next two days while studying for my test. It would be nice to feel confident in it.

After my test, it’s surviving the rest of the week of the kids being here. After that, it’s continuing to survive the financial stress of March. April will be hard for its own reasons, but it will also be the point where things start truly evening out and I’m looking forward to it.

Hopefully, I can get back into the trend of writing daily. This has been nice, even if it did get interrupted twice.


Daily Post 073: Two Weeks Later


Things are going well.

It’s been two weeks to the day since I’ve written. Time gets pushed ahead an hour which is sort of lame, but overall my body hasn’t noticed a difference.

I’ve been sleeping better the past few nights which is nice. For a while, I was having a hard time being able to sleep. The past five days or so have also been rough. Nothing bad has happened. I’ve just been sad.

I think there are a lot of factors that go into that.

The biggest is that it’s almost the two-year anniversary of mom’s death. I don’t like the word anniversary. I think I wrote about that last year; how anniversary makes it sound like something to celebrate. It’s another day where I have to go out and buy a flower for her. It’s the second time I will have to go and stand in front of the fake flower display at some store and figure out which one I want to get to signify this event in my life that I didn’t want to have happen.

It’s a heavy thought. This impending action I have to do. That I need to do. That I promised myself I would do because I have to do something to show that this day is significant. I don’t have a grave I can go to. All I can do is place my hands on her urn after adding another flower to the crystal vase I bought and make my promises all over again.

Not promises of being happy or not having breakdowns.

My promises to eat. To not stay in bed all day. To at least shower.

My promises of bare minimal survival because as long as I survive I can keep going which is what she wants for me.

I had a dream the other night while Ox was playing World of Warcraft next to me. I guess it was sort of a waking dream. I knew I was in bed with him. I knew it had been a while since I had talked to mom. I hadn’t seen her in a while and I knew she would be worrying about me. I had the thought that I should call her so she wouldn’t worry about me. So I could let her know I was going to be staying with Ox and that I wouldn’t be home for a while. I wanted to let her know I was ok.

It sucked when in the dream I remembered that’s now how this works anymore. I can’t call the same way I used to. But maybe that’s something I should be aware of. I haven’t written to her in a while. I’ve talked to her a few times. I’ve told her I miss her and that I wish things were different.

I like the way things are going in my life. I like where I am and I do look forward to my future most days. I know mom is happy for me. I just wish she were here to visit or to meet Ox or any number of the things that I feel like I can’t have or do because her presence isn’t physical.

I got my raise at work. 2%. So… like a quarter. I’m not complaining since most first-year techs get nothing. My boss and former teammates had nothing but positive things to say about my performance and character. Most of my ratings were 4 out of 5. They were actually really hard pressed to find anything constructive for me to work on since I’m pretty good about continuously improving. They mentioned that I was late for work a few times, but that was it. Other than that they all loved working with me and were confident that I would do well at my new clinics.

I am scheduled to take my national certification this Wednesday. I’m mildly nervous about it but I’ve started going through my flashcards again and I’ve been going through several lists on Quizlet and adding to my flash card collection when I run into things that I don’t know or feel I should add to my own cards.

I know I’ll continue to internally worry about the test until it’s over and I know mom will be standing behind me doing the “I told you so” dance when I pass the first time. If I didn’t worry I wouldn’t study or try so hard. I know in its own way my worry is a good thing. I just need to keep it in check and make sure it doesn’t change into anxiety.

I’m going to continue to be in training at work for the next two weeks which is mildly annoying, but I’ll finally be at the Beatrice clinic which I’m looking forward to. I’ll get a whole extra hour of sleep. 3 am wake-up calls instead of 2 am. Woo!

It’s sort of sad being an adult and being excited about shit like that.

I have slowly been working myself back into my routines. I meal prepped today which was extremely gratifying. I made chef salads along with a chicken alfredo dish. I made venison chili for dinner, too, which everyone seemed to like.

All of the laundry is done. The dishes are taken care of. My bag is packed for the gym tomorrow if I feel like going. All I need to do is fill my water bottles and I’ll be done with my “work prep” stuff. It’s a good feeling to feel like I’m on top of things in that regard.

I did go and talk to the YMCA guys earlier last week. Since I’ll be working in Beatrice it would be easier to go to the gym there rather than driving all the way back into Lincoln, but I wasn’t sure if my membership would work like that.

Well… it does. And if it ever becomes a problem with me going to the Beatrice gym more than the Lincoln one they said they would work it out. They’re more concerned with me going rather than where I go. It was actually a much less painful experience then what I was anticipating, so yeah. Depending on how work goes I might go and check out the gym before coming home. If not, there’s Tuesday which will be a shorter day and theoretically leave me with more time and energy for new things.

It all depends, and I’ve been doing pretty good about not giving myself shit for not being consistent with my gym going. It’s still very obviously winter here and the cold and cloudiness makes it hard to find the drive to go out or stay out. I’m still “new” at the gym and most days I don’t feel like dealing with more new since pretty much everything in my life is new.

New house. New town. New clinics. New state. New relationship. New bed. New elbows stabbing me at night. Yes… I know eventually you’ll read this, so I’m putting that part in there especially for you. Kisses :3

Sometimes making it through my obligations of work is enough for me. I got through all of that “new”. I don’t want to deal with more “new”. So I don’t. I know eventually, I’ll get there. Small steps. And I think that’s the biggest part I’m learning right now. Not everything has to happen right now, this second. I can take time to adjust and breath and get used to things before slowly adding onto the things I get established and stable.

I did go running the week before last. It was the first time I’ve run in a while. That sucked. Hardcore. My legs hurt, my breathing sucked, and I can tell that I’ve gained a little bit of weight back. When I bowed in on the mat at the gym to stretch after my shitty run I couldn’t bend as far or twist as much as I used to and almost every muscle complained at me, reminding me that I haven’t done anything remotely consistent since the beginning of December.

The yoga class I went to last Saturday was more about trying not to die while in downward dog than finding any sort of inner peace and I was sore for days afterward.

Overall my first gym experiences here were pretty demotivating and that’s something I’m having to align within myself.

That was my square one and that’s ok. Everything from those points forward will be a step forward from here. It doesn’t matter where I am or where I was at. What matters is what I DO.

So I went running again this week and I did better. My legs were less sore. My breathing was better. I was able to stretch deeper afterward. It was nice to see myself regain so much in such a short time. So I’m not as demotivated as I was and I think that’s helped make today better than what the past few days have been.

Financially things are tight. Warren is being himself. Mrs. Side Chick moved in but Warren is still trying to get his finances straight which means right now he has no money to give me.

Full Sail never got around to writing the check they owe me so that hasn’t shown up yet. Neither has my tax return. I got paid $4 this past paycheck because the only hours I got were the hours that I shadowed…

So yeah… I don’t have money to pay my car payment which is due tomorrow. It sucks, but there you go. I can’t magically poof money into my account. Payday isn’t until Friday. I’m going to call the bank tomorrow and let them know the situation. In the two or three years that I’ve had the car, I haven’t been late on my payments once. Maybe that will earn me a few brownie points or something. If not I guess I’m eating a late fee.

I’m hyper aware that I would be fucked right now if it wasn’t for the kindness of Ox’s parents. I stay here rent free. They pay for pretty much all the food. Today was the first time that I put any sort of “serious” money towards groceries and that was mainly because I was buying things for my lunches at work. I’ve bought things here and there, but this was the first major shopping trip that I’ve made for the house, and even then I only had to spend $50 since Ox’s mom gave me some money before I left for the store.

I feel awkward and… bad?… accepting her help like that, but I also know that I wouldn’t be able to do anything without it. I try to make up for it by cleaning and helping. Which that’s a story for another time.

I will say it’s nice not being the only person doing chores. Everyone does a little bit.

And yet as I write that I feel the need to say that the past few days I haven’t done as much as I was when I first moved here.

There was one day where I slept pretty much all day. Because of the sadness, I’ve been sleeping more. Ox and I talk about it sometimes. I ask his opinion. I know it would be better for me to sit and write more; to try to figure out my emotions for myself, but I like knowing what he observes in my behavior and his opinion of it.

The other night, the night where I slept most of the day, I came out for dinner, but shortly after eating I went back to the room, leaving my plate and cup on the table. Normally I would clear the dishes away and load the dishwasher, storing the leftovers into containers and making sure the kitchen is clean, but I didn’t have it in me to do it that night. Dinner was the most I could bring my self to do as far as human interaction. The sadness hurt and being around others made it that much more painful. I had made my appearance. I wanted to go back to the room where I could hide under the covers and continue to be sad because those emotions weren’t done yet.

I guess Ox’s mom was worried that I was silently protesting doing the dishes by leaving my stuff on the table, which made me feel awful because that’s not what it was at all. I hadn’t even realized I had left my stuff like I had. I was so wrapped up in getting away that I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think about how my actions might have been taken by others.

Ox said he explained the situation to her; how I’ve been having a hard time. Nothing further was mentioned about it so I guess things are ok. I’ve made a conscious effort to not let my sadness hinder others or create more work for those around me.

And I guess since I’m writing about everything I might as well throw in the fact that I’ve been on my period this whole time which totally doesn’t help anything.

Body: Hey. I know that you feel shitty right now. Here. Have this. It will help. : D

Me: … I really fucking hate you right now… Just so you know…

I’m glad that I can write that today feels more like a normal day. Everyone else is sick with head colds, but I’m finally breathing better. I’ve slept well the past few days. I’ve had two days off from work. I got my Ubox unpacked and into a storage unit which makes it feel more official. I got to touch all of my things again, and even though I don’t have them here at the house with me, I have them stored and permanently here.

Eventually, when I have money to spend, I plan to get another tattoo. This one will be on my right forearm and it will be for me. It will be the final mark of this transition. I’m looking forward to that day.

I know March is going to suck as far as finances go. Maybe I’ll get my new tattoo on April 4th. That gives me three weeks to create the design and find someone I like and schedule an appointment. I know I won’t get a tattoo every April 4th, but maybe this could be a way of marking my new year since that’s when it begins for me.

March is where I start getting full paychecks again. It’s when my schedule becomes stable. It’s where I get back on my feet. It’s where, hopefully, the weather starts to warm. It’s where I get back to the gym.

Surviving March is where things begin. I want that to mean something and I want something to mark this step forward for me. It’s something to meditate on further. I guess a lot of that depends on how this month actually goes. As irresponsible as it might be I could use the credit card to get the tattoo. It’s not like that debt is going to go anywhere anytime soon…

I think another part of the sadness I’ve felt recently is finally having the space to feel all the things I never let myself feel in Orlando. I have the space here to be sad. I have the time to come home and let the emotions have their time. I don’t have the constant drain of work. I have the time for self-care and maybe before I start really delving into that I have to go through the hurt and sadness first.

I don’t know. I haven’t really done a lot of soul-searching yet, but now with everything settling down maybe the sadness is my soul’s way of saying it’s time to look at those painful wounds that have been neglected for so long.

Writing helps. I’m glad that in addition to everything I have done today, that I have not only written but also made noticeable progress on the cross stitch I have been working on. Maybe I’ll start taking weekly pictures of it so I can track it.

Who knows. There are so many things I can do, or not do, and I have the space and time to do or not do them. It’s such a weird feeling and is another thing I’m having to adjust to.

My therapist actually reached out to me today. She said she had been thinking about me. I replied back explaining a bit of what has been going on in my life and asked if I could talk to her about some things that I would like her opinion on. She replied back saying of course. We can definitely talk. She wants me to let her know what my schedule is so we can work something out.

It’s nice to know I still have her support and connection.

When I first moved here I had anxiety any time Ox or I had to leave to go anywhere. I kept thinking about how one of us would get into a car wreck or die some horrible death and how we had both found happiness just for it to be stanched away from us.

I haven’t had those feelings for a few weeks now, but I still want to talk to my therapist about them. I also want to talk to her about the sadness I’ve felt this past week and mom’s upcoming death day.

At the moment I don’t really have much else to say.

I’m glad I wrote. I’m glad that even though everyone is sick that it’s been a pretty decent day. I’m glad dinner was a success. I’m glad I’m prepared for the coming week. I’m glad I’m finally going to be taking my test. I’m glad I’ll be at what will soon be my home clinic. I’m glad this Friday I get paid. I’m glad I have a car that works. I’m glad I have my computer set up and that I have clean clothes to wear. I’m glad I have a gym membership I can take advantage of. And I’m glad I have the time to do the things I want to do.

Things are going well. I’m doing well. And I guess that’s it for now.

Daily Post 071: A “Fuck You” Post From Nebraska


For all of my joking with Ox about this not being hard, about how writing for work is easy and most likely the best place to start, simply sitting here in front of my computer is hard.

I moved to Nebraska.

I’m here. It’s cold. There was ice on the ground yesterday.

I love it.

I shadowed at the clinic in Beatrice this morning. It’s everything I was hoping for it to be.

I’m in the middle of doing my yearly review with my FA from Orlando so I should have my pay increase in before I become active at the clinics up here. I still have my voucher for my national certification test which is good until April. That leaves me all of March to find a test center and complete that for another dollar increase in my rate.

Everything is different and yet at the same time the same.

I’m still in front of the same computer with the same finicky keyboard. I’m still writing this post in Grammarly which constantly reminders me that I write more than 98% of users with a way higher vocabulary than normal which makes me wonder what everyone else is writing because I don’t think I write all that much.

I still talk to Jon on the phone about nothing important. I listen to him bitch about work and how his coworkers suck. How school is annoying and how his World Religion class is a joke full of busy work he doesn’t care about.

I still shower and brush my teeth. I still forget to take my contacts out until I’m about to crawl into bed which makes me groan as I unwillingly trudge back to the bathroom to take them out.

I still miss mom. I still wish she were here for me to tell her about all the of the changes I’ve experienced and made. I wish she where here to talk about my trip to the Great Unknown. I still have her urn with me even if I don’t have the chine hutch set up.

My computer is still in a closet but I’ve been allowed to paint it the way I want so it’s the Summer Dragonfly color that I painted the living room when I was in Orlando. The trim, shelving, and ceiling I painted white. Ox is going to help me put in more shelving on the sides so I have a place to put my notebooks and pens. It’s almost set up to how I want it and he’s been amazing about helping to make me feel welcomed and at home.

I’m living with him and his parents. I know by society standards that seems like a failure but I like it. In Asian cultures, it’s common for the extended family to live together. Grandparents, great grandparents… Everyone helps take care of everyone.

It feels good to joke with his mom. It feels good to cook dinner and clear the plates away. I don’t mind when she does the dishes. I think both her and I are so used to being the only people to do things as far as household upkeep goes that it’s weird allowing someone else to do things.

The voice in my head of “You are supposed to be doing that,” still makes my body tense. I’m staying here rent free. I should be doing everything. The laundry. The dishes. The cooking. The cleaning. If I don’t do it all then I’m a slacker. A mooch.

But… That’s the thing that’s different… I DON’T have to do it all. I don’t have to do it all right then, that second. There’s help. There’s Ox who takes out the trash. There’s his mom who doesn’t mind loading the dishwasher if she didn’t have to cook the meal. It doesn’t have to be all me all the time. There’s a give and take that I’m not used to anymore. I’m relearning that I don’t have to tense up or internally freak out and feel like a failure if someone else takes it upon themselves to do something that needs to be done.

It makes it easier to want to do things to help because it doesn’t feel like I’m being used or taken advantage of.

She bought me an ice scraper for my car windows yesterday and even though I know it wasn’t expensive, it’s important to me. She went out of her way to make sure I had something that I needed. It was kind and thoughtful.

There’s a feeling of home that I haven’t felt since sitting in the living room of mom’s house when I would go back to visit.

It hurts in a healing way.

I’m happy in a way I didn’t think would be possible again.

I’m so much less stressed. Even with my former roommates still being dicks about rent and paying me back, I can’t put into words how much better I feel about my future and how I’m looking forward to seeing how things play out for me.

I have a future I want to see, that I want to be here for. A future I so desperately wish I could tell my mom about because I know she would be happy for me.

She is happy for me and writing that hurts the most so far.

I shadowed today, which that’s been a bit of a rollercoaster in itself.

I was supposed to shadow on the 23rd which is Friday. That changed to Tuesday, but then it got super cold and there was ice on the roads so it was changed to Thursday. Since my FA needed me to fill out paperwork that I could only access through the intranet at work I had to go into town to get on one of the clinic’s computers. While I was there it was decided that I should show up to the Beatrice clinic at 5 am this morning; Wednesday.

Shadowing went well. The RN is super nice though her last day is going to be Friday. The tech was a girl I met while I was at the clinic on Tuesday. She answered all of my questions and gave me her opinion about things; which clinics she preferred and why, the shortcomings to each location, what the patient population was like…

It was a really nice morning. The Beatrice clinic only has eight stations. It’s a third of the size of what I’m used to. It’s roughly a 30-minute drive from where I’m staying and the drive itself is nice. Ox took me there this morning and picked me up once I was done.

We had driven by the clinic shortly after our trip home from Orlando, and I’m glad that I can call this place home rather than “the place where I fall asleep at night.”

This IS my home and I like it here.

Before I left the clinic this morning one of the FAs I interviewed with showed up and we talked more about the logistical side of things. She added me to the time clocks for all three of the clinics I’ll be working at. We set up a time for me to come in tomorrow to do some Nebraska specific policy and procedure training after which we will be contacting my FA in Orlando to make my transition official, so while I still haven’t signed anything as of yet, I am set to begin working here in the next few weeks.

It’s a good feeling. Much less nebulous than what it was though I still don’t know what my rate will be. I’m assuming if they need to take me through training that my rate will be decreased slightly for that duration; a week, maybe two. After the initial training period to make sure I understand, and am comfortable, with the newer equipment I’ll be essentially on my own again, only this time it will legitimately be on my own. The clinics are so small that I would be the only tech with one RN.

I’m confident in my ability to hold my own. I’m confident that I can do this and that’s a good feeling. I’m not scared of my work future. I’m looking forward to it. And for the time being it is very likely that the Beatrice clinic will be my home clinic. The dedicated tech they had for that location recently resigned and so there’s a spot there and I’m the closest tech to that location.

I like it. It’s new. All of the machines are new. It’s spacious and quiet. There are 20 minutes between patients. I would most likely be working 12-hour shifts on MWF, but TTS is still only one shift so I would be out around noon on those days.

At no point at any clinic would I be working a 16 hour day.

I haven’t shadowed at any of the other locations, but the Captial City location reminds me of what Orlando was like. I think I would like that one the least simply because it’s so similar to what I’m trying to get away from.

It was sort of weird putting on scrubs again. I forgot my notebook this morning so Ox had to turn around so we could get it. I’m not used to wearing layers, thermals under my scrubs, and so there’s an odd feeling accompanying all of the familiar. It felt good, though; waking up, making breakfast. Hopefully, as I become more situated at work, with an actual schedule and routine, things will become a little less hectic in that regard. At least I remembered my wallet and cell phone. Two out of three things isn’t bad for a first day back after essentially a month off.

I have a membership to the YMCA again. The facilities here are super nice. Better than the ones I went to in Florida, which you would think it would be the opposite. I’m in the middle of nowhere and yet the Y offers classes in Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Women’s Self-Defense, and Hapkido. There are yoga and Zumba classes and all of the other things I’m interested in. Personal training is still pretty expensive, but it’s an option for later down the road.

I haven’t looked into dojos all that much. I know they’re around. I know eventually I’ll get back into jiujitsu and the MMA stuff because that’s something I want in my life, but for now, I’m ok with simply finding my routine again and getting back to the point I was. I’m ok with taking things slow for right now since everything has changed so much.

Ox and I have plans to go to the gym later today to soak in the hot tube. Relax. Decompress. Become a little more comfortable in yet another new environment.

So much new…

I’m getting more familiar with the roads here. Parts of my mental map are still cloudy, fuzzy, but I’m getting better at remembering where things are in relation to each other. The clinic is here, so that means the stitch shop is north. This is the grocery store so the gym is in a “that way” direction. I know it will still be a little bit before I’m uber confident but I’m content with the progress I’m making.

I haven’t looked into starting classes anywhere. I most likely won’t until the fall semester at the earliest. I might table that until next year. I know when I’m ready to explore those options that there’s a ton in the area to support whatever direction I choose to go with.

Ox’s mom said the house needs a breath of fresh air, which I think I’m providing. Things are getting cleaned and organized. Things are getting donated or thrown out. Projects will get completed as other things fall into place. The addition to the house, an extra three bedrooms, which were started years ago, has the very real potential to get done now.

I want to see the addition completed. I want to help complete it. I want Ox’s kids to have their own rooms when they come to visit. I want Ox to get custody of his children.

His daughter, the cutest seven-year old I have ever met, has already told me that her dad has married me and that I’m a mom, to which I responded, “Am I, now?” because yeah… that’s news to me.

I stayed at a hotel last weekend because Ox’s kids were at the house. It’s their home.They hadn’t met me yet. I didn’t want to stay there without meeting them first. Coming from a divorced family, I know what it’s like to feel threatened or replaced by a parental figure finding another person. My stepmom was a bitch while Jon and I were growing up and sadly she really hasn’t changed all that much. It’s more that Jon and I are no longer insecure preteens she can pick on. We’re adults and we’ll stand up for ourselves as such.

If his kids didn’t like me I didn’t want them to feel stuck or trapped with me being at the house. I want them to feel secure and thought of. Their opinion matters. They ARE important.

His son I think is a bit more reserved when it comes to me than his daughter. To be fair, he’s older, and he’s only ever had poor examples for mother figures. His biological mom, the parent he stays with the most, I don’t think does a good job. I mean… when the child openly says, “I don’t trust my mom,” and he’s only thirteen… I think there are deeper issues that need to be addressed.

We seem to be doing ok, though. We went to a hobby shop and spent a few hours digging through magic cards on Friday night. Saturday I came over to the house and played magic with him and Ox. I think it went well. He didn’t want to hug me goodbye when I left and I completely respected and understood that.

Ox’s daughter totally handed my ass to me in Minecraft. XD

We had more success with Little Big Planet. I got her to read to me Sunday night before I left. She says she’s “bad” at a lot of things.

“I’m bad a reading.” “I’m bad at that game.” “I’m bad… I’m bad…”

I want to know who tells this amazing child that she’s bad at anything. She’s not bad at all. She reads amazingly well. And even if she’s “bad” at something… she’s seven. It’s not “bad”, it’s something she can get better at if she’s given encouragement and support. Who the fuck gave this seven-year-old self-esteem issues?

I want to show both of Ox’s children that not all females are mean, or weak, or selfish, or whatever it was that the previous women in their lives have been. There are females out there who are stable, secure, confident, and who have their shit together.

I don’t think of myself as their mom, but I do want to be an example for them. I want them to be ok with me being with their dad and I don’t really know what else to write about that because I’ve only interacted with them for such a brief time.

I don’t know how to be a mom, but being cuddled up in bed with Ox’s daughter as we took turns reading pages to each other felt so right that I don’t know how I haven’t been doing it my whole life. It reminded me of when mom and I would read to each other. It reminded me of all of the stories and adventures we went on while sitting together in the easy chair passing books back and forth.

His kids are getting to the age where they could go before a judge and say they would rather live with their dad. That’s why getting the addition completed would be so… beneficial? I’m not sure what word to use to describe it. Everyone wants his kids here rather than with their mother, myself included.

And I pause here in my writing because I’m at the end of one thought and am scared to wander into others. Everything else would be from “The Before” as Ox and I call it. Before the move.

I guess that’s something to address.

Ox and I aren’t playing games. We’re seeing if we can coexist together as life partners. We’re both interested in each other. We both seem to want the same things. We both have similar enough interests to be compatible with enough differences to keep each other intriguing. There’s open enough communication that when more sensitive subjects need to be discussed there’s the trust to openly talk about the topic.

We both want to see where it goes, so we are. I’m not going to sit here and justify my actions or try to make it more ok to disapproving eyes. I’m making the choices I feel are right and all I can do, all anyone can do in their life, is see if the choices made pan out the way we hope or intend for them to.

So far the choices I have made have led me to feeling more secure, more stable, more at peace, more happy, then I have in the almost two years I’ve lived without mom.

In the process, I have lost Mother Earth, again. And there is what I am starting to recognize as the matriarch part of my self which stands stoically at this realization.

Everyone else I mentioned moving to wished me the best, encouraged me to make the choices which were best for me. She was the only person who sent a message reading as a farewell. The only person who made my moving seem as if it were a leaving that I could never come back from, where we could never visit, never call, never message.

This marks the fourth time where I have felt wounded by her and so I said my own goodbye and have left it as such. The money given to help her and Josh will most likely never be returned to me. I don’t think our relationship will be mended this lifetime. I think I’m tired enough of being told to “never message me again” to the point that trying again isn’t worth it. My soul is too tired to try.

I still have to live without mom. Every day. After two years it’s still not easier and though I’m happy in ways I thought were gone from me forever, there’s still that heaviness everytime I breathe. That fact will never change. I don’t have it in me to carry that fact along with fighting to prove to someone I care who seems so set on believing that I don’t.

I didn’t get to see my blacksmith before I left, but he did take the time to call me the Saturday before my trip.

As always he built me up the most, bringing me to tears while we talked. He said he’s proud of me. That’s he’s proud to have watched me grow from who I was when we first met into the person I am now and that he’s looking forward to watching me continue to grow in the person I’m meant to be.

He pointed out that last year I would have never thought of moving away, much less actually doing it. I went through a complete career change and have become stronger for it. I’ve opened up after the hurt of Zane and allowed myself to have healthy and stable relationships. I’ve learned to trust again.

I’ve done a lot of amazing things, all of which are mostly intangible. I’ve worked through so many faults, and flaws, and insecurities, and the whole time, every time, it seemed too hard or too overwhelming or too impossible to do the phrase “Go fuck yourself,” screamed in my head as I refused to let Life beat me down.

I can remember the times I wrote about being tired of fighting, of trying but how I didn’t know how to give up, I only knew how to keep going even though I would give anything to stop.

Well, fuck you, Life. Even if it doesn’t last, this is the peace I’ve earned. This is my reward for overcoming every single thing you’ve thrown at me.

Fuck you for Saturday night, the night I was alone at the hotel after driving back there by myself, ridden with anxiety as the thought of, “this is it,” ricochet around in my head like a bullet.

This is where I die. This is where there’s some freak car accident where I get a life-threatening wound I have have to choose between letting myself die and being with my mom or fighting to finally live the life I’ve wanted to have. This is where everything gets snatched away from me like a cruel joke. This is where I get so close to the finish line, where I can see that checkered pattern that I’ve been striving so hard to cross only to fall and trip and to lose my race.

This is where it all ends. The final taste of happiness that I’ve been trying so hard to find again.

But I didn’t die on the way back to the hotel. I made it back there fine, in one piece, without incident. I don’t want to live my life in fear like that, but for right now it’s hard not to. Everything is so frail and new and precious to me and there’s a part of me who’s terrified that it’s going to be stolen away from me and I’ll never have it again.

I realized, curled up in the hotel bed that I might have forgotten something. My mom and I are still together. No matter what, I will always be her daughter, and no matter what, she will always be my mother. No matter where I go. No matter who I end up with. No matter what career I do or do not work. No matter if we’re alive or dead, I will always be her daughter and she will always be my mother.

Life cannot change that. Death cannot change that. Not even the Universe can change that fact.

So you know what? Fuck everyone who disapproves or thinks less of me, or berates me, or faults me, or who says anything about me behind my back or who doesn’t agree with how I’m living my life.


No one on this planet will ever be my mom so fuck what they think.

Yes. In two months I met a guy online and packed up my shitty excuse of a life, transferred my job and moved to a completely new state to be near him; to start over with him.

I didn’t need or want anyone’s permission to do it. My life was so broken where I was and for once it feels like I’m doing things right, so fuck you, Life, if you think I’m going to give this up without fighting you. I won’t let you take this back from me. I’ve earned everything fucking minute of my happiness for everything that you’ve ever taken away from me.

You took my dad away from me with I was eight. You took away my mom from me when I was twenty-seven. Fuck you. Fuck you for every struggle I’ve ever had to go through to become who I am sitting here today.

I’m angry that I had to go through all of it. And maybe that’s something I’m going to have to work through now that I have the time and space and peace to actually start dealing with everything.


I didn’t mean for this writing to go that direction, though to be fair I didn’t know how to begin writing or what I would write about when I finally sat down, but anger never, ever, made it to the list in all of my imaginings, but there you go. I’m angry.

And admitting that I’m angry makes it less powerful than what it was. I’m hurt and still injured and recovering, but I’m so much better than what I was two years ago, and I know I’ll only improve from this point forward.

So yeah… Fuck you, Life. I’ll get through this part of it, too. The anger and injustice and the fear and insecurity of gaining it all just to lose it in the end. Fuck you if you think I’m going to break now. My work isn’t over, but I’m hanging up my armor for now because I’m done fighting you.

It’s winter. This is when I get to go sit in hot tubes and do yoga and be reflective and clean and organize so in the spring, when new things start and the earth begins to grow again there’s the space and opportunity for it to all begin. This is a quiet time and I’m going to enjoy it, revel in it, bask in the nothingness of not struggling.

This is a  new start, a new chapter, a new first post. This is my “Fuck you” to Life from my new home in Nebraska and I’m glad I took the time to write it.


Daily Post 067: Home


This isn’t the first time I have sat in front of my computer since I have been back from Nebraska. There’s actually a writing that I never posted before my trip which I doubt I will at this point. Really, most of that lost writing was me being definite. This is the first time that I’m taking the time to try to figure it all out, though.

I don’t know where to start with everything. It’s another massive tangled thing within my chest. I don’t think it’s really discord, but the fact is, there’s a lot.

There’s the apartment. There’s my job. There’s the trip itself. There’s everything with Ox. There are my relationships here. There are my brothers. There’s my grief. There’s just… everything.

There’s my life.

That’s basically what it feels like. It’s so much stuff it might as well be everything all at once and I don’t know where to start with that. There’s the mountain in front of me that I don’t know how to climb. This feeling of never being able to get to the top so taking the first steps are pointless. I’m striving for an unattainable goal so it’s easier to just not try.

But I can’t not try. I don’t know how to do that. To sit and accept nothingness, so here I am. Once again in front of my computer with a blank page in front of me, my words slowly filling it with black marks as Arrival At Sydney Harbour plays on repeat, instilling the sense of calm it always does for me. Safety, security. It makes the tension of standing in front of the mountain more ok. More bearable. More do-able.

I made my trip. I guess that’s a good place to start.

I worked three days in a row. That was brutal. I took an Uber to the airport. I made it through TSA without SWAT repelling down from the ceiling to confiscate my contact solution and deodorant stick.

I made it onto the plane. I survived the take off even though I still cried through it. There’s still the feelings of… I don’t know what. The thoughts of, “Mom is dead,” fill my head as the plane rumbles down the runway. Once I’m in the air it’s fine, but the takeoff… those few seconds are so much of everything…

I want her to still be here. I want her to be alive still and take off reminds me that she’s not, she never will be. Not how she was.

I survived both take-offs since there was a layover in Chicago.

I made it off the plan in Omaha.

I met Ox in person. I don’t know what else to say about our meeting. There aren’t words which could hope to explain those feelings. I’m glad it happened. I’m glad he hugged me. I’m glad we stood there for as long as we did holding each other. I’m glad I had the time I did to relearn how to breathe.

I’m glad we touched as much as we did through the time I was there. The random touches as we passed by each other in the hotel room. The holding hands. I’m glad we talked as much as we did. I’m glad the first place we went to was a forest so I could be away from literally everything. No cars. No people. Just emptiness and space and silence and all of these things I didn’t realize I was suffocating without.

In fact, every time I became overwhelmed, or borderline overwhelmed, he let me sit outside in the fifteen-degree weather with his jacket around me. He let me cry when I needed to, like after my interview.

Which I guess that’s another thing to write about. It wasn’t just a meeting. I showed up to the clinic and was welcomed inside of an office where I sat in front of an FA and an FA assistant while conference calling another FA. It was most definitely an interview and it went amazingly well. They’re interested in having me in the area and as far as I know are still working the logistics out.

After the interview, we drove to another park. It wasn’t an empty forest, but it was still nice. We sat outside for a bit at a picnic table before driving to another area, one of Ox’s favorite spots when he needs to get away. I was allowed to explain why every accomplishment I achieve sucks now. Why it’s painful. Why it hurts and feels pointless.

I can’t tell mom. I can’t tell her I did this amazing thing. Not how I’m used to, and I guess a big thing in that regard is that I don’t reach out to her spiritually much. I still question if it’s real. It’s something I need to work out but now, today, is not that time.

There was a lot of open communication with Ox. This is week four of knowing him actually, to the day.

One of the nights we were together we drank and instead of drinking and doing stupid shit or just having sex we looked up our personality types and read them to each other and then had super deep conversations about it. It’s things like that, moments like that which make us both feel connected to each other in ways that make me want to explore this.

The internet calls our pairing “the golden couple” and I can honestly say that even if it doesn’t work between us I’m glad I have met him. I’m glad I have someone who seems to so intuitively understand… me. All of me.

I met his parents while I was there and for the first time since last Christmas I sat down at a kitchen table and had dinner with a family. I felt part of the family. I felt… home… in the middle of a place I have never been surrounded by people I honestly don’t really know… I felt like I belonged. I felt warm and cared for and accepted for me.

I answered all of the questions I was asked as honestly as I knew how.

When Ox’s mom made the comment that she didn’t know how I could explain and be open about half the things I did I replied with it’s easier to be honest than to lie and I don’t know how to explain certain things without explaining all of it. All of the parts are important. The whole story is important and needed.

I didn’t go to dojos. I did walk through a grocery store. I didn’t drive around in the snow. I didn’t look at apartments.

I had my interview. I had lunch with Ox’s mom, and then the following day I spent the day at his house. In between those events Ox and I spent our time together learning each other in person and I wouldn’t trade a minute of my time in Nebraska for anything in the world.

I didn’t realize how claustrophobic Orlando was until I was sitting in the passenger seat of Ari’s car as she picked me up from the airport. I didn’t realize how much I didn’t want to be here anymore until the plane touched down and I had silent tears from wishing I was anywhere but here. It was the first time where I didn’t cry during the takeoffs. It was the landings which hurt. It was only during the last landing that I wished I hadn’t had to leave a place that felt so right.

There was a moment when Ox and I were together, at yet another park after having met his family, where I cried and admitted that I was terrified of all of this not being real. It was too perfect to truly exist that it had to be something I would wake up from. I would wake and the soul-crushing reality of it being a dream would be too much.

I know I will move. I know that Orlando isn’t where I want to be and that if things work the way I want for them to, that I will be leaving mid-February and beginning work in Nebraska the 5th of March.

I know a lot with the apartment is falling into place though my first night back felt like a disaster waiting to undermine everything I was striving for.

Right now I’m having to breathe and be patient while the ball gets tossed around the court from one person to another, rarely ever landing in my own where I can do something with it.

The two shirts Ox let me take back with me remind me that the experience, the trip, was real. That there is a home for me there, one I am waiting to go back to. They’re reminders that it was “I’ll see you later,” and not “Goodbye”.

I have my evening with Big Bad tonight and though I want to see him I don’t want to have to drive or deal with people or leave the sanctuary of my room. I do feel the need to acknowledge I am feeling better for having written even if I don’t feel I haven’t figured much out from it.

Maybe it’s solidifying that I do have a home now and not just a place where I sleep. Even if I’m far away from it, I have a home and that makes me feel more ok. More like there’s a point to everything. I’ve had more energy when interacting with my patients the two days I’ve worked then I have for all of December. I no longer dread the hours as they tick by, waiting to finally go home so I can be alone.

I’m fully present. Several of my patients knew about my trip and asked about it once I was back. They all wish the best for me and commented on how I will be missed and how I’m a kind, caring soul that made the clinic a better place. With almost everyone I have talked to I have nearly been brought to tears from their words. I didn’t realize I made such a difference for them.

It’s nice to know that I mattered and that I helped.

It’s nice to feel like I’m being an adult. That was something I mentioned to Ox yesterday while I was on one of my breaks. I feel like I’m figuring things out. I’m taking care of my life. And, for once, I feel like I’m living it for myself.

I don’t feel broken. I don’t feel injured. I feel like I’ve gone through that process of healing wounds. I’ve been the invalid, bedridden and feeble. I’ve progressed to a wheelchair and then crutches. And now, even though my body and soul still ache, I’m beginning to walk my path again. And this time I’m walking it for myself.

My path so closely followed my mom’s for so long, and now my path continues on and I must walk it by myself, for myself. I know she’s still with me, but she’s not here to hold my hand through it. She taught me to be strong, to stand tall, and to walk with confidence, and so for the first time, I’m doing that.

At least it feels like the first time.

I’m holding my head high and making the choices I want to make.

I know there were several times in her life that mom faced opposition to her choices. No one agreed and yet she lived her life how she felt it should be lived.

I only have one life. I only have these moments. I want to search and explore and experience and question. I want… to be happy. Content. I want to be away, where it’s quiet and open and spacious and… just away.

I know with this change, this chapter, there will be an end. And end to Orlando. And end to paths. I think I’m ready for that, though. I’m ready to move away from the past and to shed it much like a snake sheds it’s skin so that it may continue to grow.

There’s still a lot to figure out. There’s still information to gather, but I support myself, and I think that’s the biggest hurdle any of us face while trying to figure out our lives.

I support what I am doing. I think it’s the right thing, and so I’m ok with other people not agreeing with it. I am the only one who knows the full story, the full history of what got me to this point, to the point of sitting here in front of my computer on this day, January 18th of 2018.

This is my year of standing up, of standing tall, and even though I’m still drained from my trip and the days I’ve worked this week, I feel like it’s a confident and stable start.

I will not fall, and I will not break. And for now, that’s as far as I feel like climbing today. Maybe that’s all that needed to be climbed.

I am moving. That’s what all of these past weeks and days and events lead up to in the end. I have found home and I will move to be there and that alone, that statement, makes me feel ok.

I’ve found home.

Daily Post 065: Standing Up


It has been a lifetime since I have written, and I don’t mean that in an exaggerated sense of the phrase. I mean, literally, since I have last writen a new chapter has unexpectedly begun writing itself.

EVERYTHING is about to change but unlike how things changed when mom died, I want these changes. I feel like this is the change needed to finish becoming who I’m supposed to be and I realize that most all of the people in my life won’t understand or agree with it, and I’m ok with that.

This is another moment of writing for myself, regardless of who reads my blog. This is my life, my thoughts, and I won’t change the picture of it by omitting events or feelings. I won’t skew myself, misrepresent the person I am. I won’t dishonor this space by pretending that things did or did not happen the way they did.

My week away was decent. I spent most of the time playing World of Warcraft with my brother. I have a level 110 mage. Her item level is in the 870s. I’m getting back into the groove of the game and I like most of the changes that have been made. Not all… but most.

Monday, the 18th, started my week. Really, in hindsight, I suppose it was the start of this change even though I didn’t know it at the time.

I woke up early to take my car in for repairs. I was able to find the drop off location with relative ease. I only had to U-turn once in morning rush hour traffic. Hooray.

The woman handling my claim is extremely nice. She even took a look at the damage and gave me her opinion. After crawling on the ground to look under the bumper she said both wheels were straight so there most likely wasn’t any real structural damage from the accident. It “should” be all cosmetic.

I was given a rental car to use until my car is repaired. It’s an Accent. It’s a bit bigger than my car but I actually really like it. If I ever feel the need to trade in my car or get a new one an Accent is definitely up there on my list to try out.

Since I was in the area I wanted to figure out the remaining issues with school. First I needed breakfast, though. I knew of a Cracker Barrel not far from where I was. I decided to get over my anxiety of driving a new car that didn’t belong to me and get some coffee in my system. It would also give me a chance to battle plan out my day.

I was looking forward to how things felt like they were going go.

On my way to breakfast, I received a text message. It was from Mother Earth. She had read my blog about the car accident. Her comment hurt. She quoted part of my previous blog post to me, the part where I say I was glad I wasn’t injured and I was able to message the people I care about to let them know I was ok.

Mother Earth: Good to know.

I hadn’t messaged her and her words felt like a slash mark across my chest. It’s a cold feeling. Metalic. I can still feel where it is. It’s in the same place as when she got upset at me about dating Zane. The same place where she told me to never message her again because of the blow up with Josh.

I read that message and felt defeat. I still do. It took a few minutes to know what I wanted to do, to say. It felt like nothing would be good enough, right enough. I had already failed and any sort of justification would just intensify that failure.

I replied explaining that I had messaged three people, though after reflection on it, after stepping back from the quickness of my reply, I realized it was four. I messaged Jon first, letting him know that way if I ended up not being ok at least he would be able to sound the alarm. I then messaged both of my roommates in case I needed help transportation wise, and again, to sound the alarm if needed. Once everything was squared away and I had already completed my journey to work I called my older brother.

That’s it.

I didn’t call my dad. I didn’t call Big Bad or my blacksmith. I didn’t call Sir, or my uncles, or my cousin, or Allison. There was no need to call anyone else and tell them, “Hey, I’m ok. I know that you think this is a big deal and you want to do something, but it’s really not a big deal, my day is unchanged, and there’s nothing you can do. K. Thanks. Bye.”

I made a post on Facebook. I wrote about it on my blog because it happened. As far as my inconvenience level it was actually mildly convenient to get hit because it forced me to be in the vicinity of school at an early enough hour to get shit done.

I had already moved past it, the car accident, much like you move past the annoyance of brushing your teeth in the morning.

But that’s not how it stayed. This is the second time my blog has caused drama in my life. The second time it has been read and actions have occured because of that writing.

Sitting in my car, holding my phone, seeing a message that felt like our effort and time meant nothing left me with a choice to make.

What did I want to do?

And my answer, inside of my head, was nothing.

I am not going to apologize for how I handled this situation. I’m not going to… I don’t know what…

I’m not going to be responsible for someone else’s emotions. And I wasn’t going to open myself up to what felt like more hurt and discord when it was two days away from my birthday. Two days away from an agonizing reminder that mom is dead.

I replied saying who I had messaged, what was going on with the car, and that though I was feeling fine if I started to have pain I would go to the hospital.

She replied with I knew my body best and we haven’t spoken since then.

I’m not sure what else to say on the subject. I know the rest of my writing is going to affect at least two people who read this post very deeply if they read it before I talk to them, but this is my journal, my diary. This is where I figure all of my shit out. I NEED to figure things out before I talk to people and I have a right to my emotions, just like they have a right to theirs.

I’m not going to let the possibility of them reading this before I talk to them change what I write or when I post. I post once I’m done because I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to afterward. I post in the moment because these words, my words, belong in the moment they were created, not later when things have changed and progressed.

So yeah… A text message was the second major event of my week off and it wasn’t even past 11am of the first day.

I continued to Cracker Barrel. I had my breakfast. I figured out the hours and locations for the departments I needed to be at for the school tasks I wanted to complete. I went and got my ID made. I got my textbooks, finally, since the bookstore never called me back. Shitty service guys. I called twice. : /

I was going to get the parking decal for my car but I didn’t have the registration, nor did I know my license plate number so I decided to save that for a different day.

I did spend the evening with Big Bad. He cooked dinner. While he had been on his fishing trip, which he returned from sans shark attack, he caught a grouper. It was the largest fish caught that day so he won a pool he and his coworkers had going. It was a tasty meal. We had sexy time before going to sleep however for the first time in a while I didn’t sleep well next to him. I don’t remember why, but I remember that I had been hoping to feel better, more connected, but I didn’t.

It was still two days until my birthday. Even though I was with someone I cared about, things still sort of sucked.

I don’t remember all of the details from there. Things get hazy but then, there’s really not much to say. I didn’t train at all during my week off. I didn’t donate plasma, either. I played Warcraft and slept and hung out with my brother.

Wednesday, was the 20th, my birthday. My blacksmith came over for a few hours before he went to work. It was good to see him. We had sex but in all honesty, we spent most of our time cuddling/sleeping.

He asked if I was ok, to which I replied yes. He said he knew I was strong but was I really ok. I again said yes, that I was fine.

Me: I promise.

I didn’t feel connected, though, and there was nothing either of us could have done to change or fix that. I wanted mom but that connection can never be what it was. It’s not wrong. It simply is.

I had been fine-ish for most of the day, but I began hurting when he got up to leave to go to work. It’s like by the act of him leaving I realized I was alone.

I didn’t feel used, but I didn’t feel good, either. Much like how I didn’t feel better from my time with Big Bad.

I got back on WoW because I had told my brother I would, but I didn’t stay on all that terribly long. We did a few things with guildmates, Jon and I talked a bit in Discord, and then I went to bed.

I didn’t cry much that night and that’s something I will acknowledge. I didn’t cry as much as I thought I would that week.

The 20th is the first day that I really started interacting with Ox. That’s his Chinese zodiac sign, so that’s his code name. He’s wood ox actually and so yes, I do make jokes in reference to trojan horses sometimes.

Anyway, I’m sure you can see where this is going…

We’ve spent roughly three hours each day since then talking to each other and neither of us knows why. We can’t explain it. We can’t find the logic in it.

What I do know is that in the next few months, as soon as feasibly possible, I will be moving to Nebraska.

Am I moving there because of him?


And no.

I don’t want to stay in Orlando. I don’t want to stay at my job. I don’t want to stay at the apartment. I don’t want to have the roommates I do. And being completely honest with myself, I don’t want to be a nurse.

I don’t know what I want, but I want to figure it out and the pervasive feeling through this whole season was stagnation. The feeling that I can’t move forward here. I’m stuck here. I’m screwed here. I’m surrounded by reminders here.

Is my choice to leave stupid?

I don’t know. I haven’t done it yet. I don’t know what the repercussions will be for my actions.

I know that it feels right. It feels like there’s less resistance, less friction following this unexpected direction then staying here in Orlando.

My question for myself, the one I always ask when I’m not sure what choice to make; If I were to die tomorrow would I regret not doing this?


My answer is yes.

I would regret not doing this. I would regret not seeing what’s about to happen. Even if I crash and burn and crawl back beaten and bloody and broken, I would be content knowing I did what I wanted to do. It didn’t work, but at least I can die knowing I tried.

There are things I/we want to take care of before I do move. We have both said, “within the year”, but what we’re aiming for is within the next three months.

On my end, there’s the issue of school. My certifications. Finding a job. Finding a place to live. Leaving my friends. Leaving my lovers. Moving what little I have and figuring out what exactly it is I want to take with me.

There is a lot that goes into this decision and I am working through all of the aspects and doing the research for it as I go. I’m asking deep questions and I am being brutally honest with my answers.

I know parts of this choice are going to be painful. Big Bad and I just spent an afternoon together where he gave me a birthday present with a card that brought me to tears.

It hurts knowing that this choice will hurt him. I love him. I want for him to be ok and for this to not damage him and I don’t know if it won’t.

I know there’s more I most likely should/want to write about but this writing was interrupted by a phone call and now I’m not sure where I am within the writing or where I want to go, and really, all of this is a lot in itself. Maybe ending it, for now, is the best course of action so I can come back later and work through all of the many different parts one at a time.

I have set it within my mind that I am leaving. I’m leaving to go live in essentially what is a forest. I’m leaving to have the space and distance and solitude that I have craved for so long. There is a person involved but it’s more that he showed me this area exists and that, with work, it’s possible for me to get there.

I will be there. And as I find time to write, which I know I need to make more time for, I’ll work through everything that comes with this decision.

I think I know what this coming year will be for me. I wasn’t sure before, but now… now I think I know. I will leave this broken, empty, dusty den of what used to be and I will fly away to make a new one, my own nitch which I carve myself without approval or guidance. I am no longer a fledgling dragon and I will prove it to myself.

I need change if I am to continue to grow the way I feel I’m meant to.

This will be my year of standing up.

I had a year where I survived.

I had a year where I have become stable.

Now it’s time to stand once again and own the person I’m meant to be.

Daily Post 063: Waking Up Awake


Tuesday was my day of self-care. I still think of it that way even though it turned into a crap-tastic day. I broke that evening. I knew it was coming, I could feel it, I just wasn’t expecting it to be now I guess.

Tuesday I wrote. I had planned to study. I had planned things. A light to-do list, but never the less I had planned for the day to be productive and relaxing.

It started with writing, which helped. It moved from there to paying bills since I was still on the computer. I figured I wouldn’t be able to pay all of my bills this early in the month since I was missing so much of Warren’s contribution, but I figured I could pay rent and have that out of the way. The one major, main bill I have anxiety over would be taken care of.

That quickly turned into realizing that I am short $100 to make the payment. Not that I myself am short. I have my part of the payment. What I am missing is the rest of Warren’s part.

That spiraled into depression and sadness because I do have the savings to cover it, but that’s savings that I already have plans for. Like saving for myself so I have a cushion when my car suddenly breaks down or having to buy a $700 plane ticket to be with a dying family member because I’ve learned from personal experience that shit like that actually happens.

My savings, as meager as it is now, is the emergency money for the shit I can’t plan for. It was money left to me from mom that was never meant to help other people. It was meant to help me and it’s the last of it I have.

I decided, sitting there looking at my bank account and the numbers not working, that I wasn’t going to fix this problem. I wasn’t going to dip into the money I had just transferred into my “Me” fund and I wasn’t going to touch my savings. If Warren wanted rent to be paid then he needed to come up with the rest of his share, otherwise, there would be a late fee and I wouldn’t be the one paying it.

I decided then and there that I was done. I was done being the parent. The problem solver. I was done giving to make things easier for someone else.

I sent him a message saying we were short $100 for rent and then laid on the couch and let the silent tears have their way.

It was seven days until my birthday. Seven days until I’m 29.

Right Brain: Happy birthday! Your gift is not being able to pay rent.

Left Brain: You know… if you want… you can go fuck yourself right now. I’m cool with that.

Warren eventually came downstairs since he woke up. He ignored me for a little bit and I didn’t care. Before he took Bruno out he asked when rent was due. I said not until the 19th but because the amount was so large it takes a few days to transfer it. I said liked having it done as soon as possible to avoid complications.

He asked if it could wait until Friday. He would get paid Friday and he would be able to transfer me more to help out. I said yes. I said once rent was paid that I would have no money for any of the other bills like internet, power, my phone bill or car insurance. It was hard not to cry while admitting to that. That this is what my life is at the moment.

I asked him if I could ask something without it being a bitchy question. Warren said yes, so I asked what happened? What happened to all of the overtime he was supposed to have worked and the promotion with the dollar increase? How are things worse when everything should have been better?

He said that after the first week of the iPhone release his company took away the overtime because the call volume drastically dropped compared to what they were expected. The raise has only just started to kick in since he’s officially out of training. He was also denied FEMA assistance for Erma, which is pretty fucked up.

His side chick, which I realize she’s his companion and I’m being dismissive by referring to her in such a way, but right now, on my blog, in my head, I’m resentful of Warren indulging in things while I feel like I suffer, so yeah, for the time being, she’s Miss Side Chick. Anyway, she’s a Nero Scientist / Therapist / Doctor. Like, legit has a doctorate already and makes complete bank on her own.

She got FEMA assistance of $1000.

Warren on the other hand, who was without power for three days and then without internet for about another week and who could legitimately not work during that entire time, was denied any assistance. Nothing to replace the food we lost. Nothing to replace the income he missed out on because he couldn’t log into work. In fact, he told me he’s being investigated for fraud…


So he’s been trying to catch up from getting screwed in all of those ways.

I’m more understanding of his situation. I’m less irrationally angry and more frustrated with the situation. It sucks, but it is what it is. We’re all doing our best and trying to adult as well as we can.

Warren is assuming his mom is going to send him money for Christmas. She has for years. It hurts knowing he’ll get a Christmas gift from her; that he counts on it being there.

I’m not going to get anything. I’m not going to be in Vegas with my older brother and sister-in-law so I doubt we’ll do more than send text messages to each other. Maybe a phone call. My younger brother and I aren’t going to do much in the way of gift exchange. He mentioned he has bought something for me months ago at Salvation Army because when he saw it he knew it was meant for me, but we’re not wrapping gifts. We’re not going to have “holiday cheer”. We’re going to spend the day much like Thanksgiving; at his apartment surviving, understanding that both of us are sad and trying to hold our shit together.

I’m not going to be getting anything for my birthday either, which I don’t mean to make it sound like these days are about receiving things because they aren’t. I’ve never been big into giving or receiving gifts. I would rather spend time with the people I care about. But always, without fail, there would be a card from mom. AND a phone call. Not just text messages.

I have a meeting at work on Sunday. We’re doing a secret Santa exchange. We’re most likely going to be doing birthday wishes since a few of us have birthdays either recently passed or coming up. I don’t want to get a card from them. I don’t want it acknowledged. I don’t want to pretend like there isn’t a wound there that is having salt unintentionally ground into it. I don’t want to pretend like I’m ok with where I’m at in life when I’m not.

Tuesday I realized that I went from working out three hours five days a week to a single hour a week. Since the end of April, since getting this job, I have done nothing but give up my “Me” time. I work to the point where on my days off I don’t have it in me to do anything other than sleep. On the days I do train I also have to donate plasma now, so afterward I can’t do anything intense like sparring.

It sucks. I’m not ok with any of this.

Wednesday, yesterday, I woke up and wanted to cry at the thought of having to get out of bed and go to work for 16 hours. I hit snooze more than I should have. I was slow in the shower. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t finish my coffee. I put on my scrubs and made sure everything was packed for the day before fighting through the pain, tears running down my cheeks, as I walked to my car.

I drove to work. I tried not to break down as I put my bag down and switched into my work shoes. The day was rougher then it needed to be since I was working with Star Lord. That’s the nickname he has at the clinic. I don’t know the story behind it. He’s not a bad guy, but he’s super slow. On all of the days where I’ve had him as my RN, it’s felt like we’ve been short a person because he does so little. He takes 40 minutes to put one patient on the machine. He leaves tasks halfway finished because he hasn’t figured out how to multitask in such a fast-paced and demanding environment.

I’ll be the first to throw up my hand and admit that I was slow and disoriented in the beginning. I messed up and made things harder for my teammates for a while I’m sure. I was the weakest link and I’m sure when people saw my name on their side of the clinic there was an inward sigh of “fuck me… ”

But I’m no longer that person. I’m a strong and confident member of the team; to the point where some people prefer to work with me over others. In eight months I have gotten to the point where I am on par.

Star Lord isn’t there and I don’t think he ever will be. I don’t think he’s cut out for this type of environment. I think a lot of his slowness is from hesitation and insecurity but instead of rising to the challenge he’s shrinking away from it which is why he isn’t getting better.

It means the people he works with have to pull his weight. It means patients are an hour or more late getting on the machine. It means that trickles into all of the other shifts. It means breaks get messed up. It means it’s a rough day when it didn’t need to be one.

That’s what yesterday was. I knew when I saw his name on the schedule it would be like that. I was tapped out before the day had begun and it was going to be a hard, long day.

I think I did well most of the day. I worked as best I could and that’s all I could do. By the time we got to third shift it was the home stretch. No other patients were going to be coming in. There were six CVCs to take care of. That’s a lot, but we got everyone on the machine.

My final patient was having complications. We got the clinical coordinator over to check out her CVC and to clear her for her treatment. I completed her CVC care and got her connected to the machine and dialyzing. Everything was finally settling down. Everyone was on. I could start cleaning up the unused chairs and closing stations down. I could be done with people for a little bit.

Only I couldn’t because five minutes later that same patient wanted to be taken off the machine so she could use the restroom. And it’s not like she could walk on her own. She’s in a wheelchair and wanted me to take her to the restroom. I had to rinse her back, secure her CVC which has been hurting her because two of the stitches are bothering her, so she’s in pain as I’m trying to take care of her, then help transfer into her chair…

It felt like a lot, like too much. I just needed a break from having to do something for someone else. I wanted to go home. I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. I took her to the restroom, went back on the floor to clean until the assistance light started flashing, went back to the restroom to get my patient, got her back on the machine, then went back to cleaning.

I listened to music while making needle packs. I took my final break. I spent about 20 minutes afterward making CVC kits in the stockroom, alone, listening to more music.

We were out of terminations like I knew we would be. We’ll be out of them again by the end of today, but I don’t go back to work until Saturday so it’s someone else’s problem on Friday. According to the log I am the only person who has made CVC kits for the past 14 days of December. That’s pretty shitty and something I will bring up at the meeting on Sunday. We need a better system with the CVC kits because right now ours isn’t working.

I didn’t leave the clinic until around 9 pm last night. I didn’t get home until 9:30. It was a long day. Kyle was in the living room. I didn’t care. I ate dinner in the kitchen. I went upstairs and brushed Scarlet for a while. I took a shower. I fell asleep with my light on.

I woke up at midnight. Everyone was asleep by then. I went downstairs and ate again then fell back asleep on the couch. When I woke up it was light outside. I had a moment of freaking out thinking I had overslept and missed my training session, but it was only 7:40. I had plenty of time.

Today I woke up feeling awake.

I’m not sure how to really describe it or if anyone else has ever had that feeling. I woke up feeling clear-headed and aware. I wasn’t sad or tired. I wasn’t injured feeling. I felt like myself with my own perspectives rather than the fuzziness or fog or weight that I’ve been contending with.

I don’t know if my break down Tuesday has anything to do with this feeling, which I just realized I mentioned it but never explained what happened.

Tuesday didn’t recover from the “can’t pay rent” realization. I didn’t go out and study. I stayed on the couch and slept. For the few hours I wasn’t asleep I watched more of Fate/Stay Night. I hurt. I knew I hurt. I knew there wasn’t going to be anything to make it feel better. I knew I didn’t want to smoke. I knew I couldn’t drink because I’m trying to stay hydrated.

In the evening Kyle came downstairs and asked if he could have the TV when I was done. I was just starting another episode of Fate/Stay Night which I really didn’t want to watch. I knew it wouldn’t make me feel better I just didn’t know what else to do so I had let it start on its own.

I told him I was done. He could have it. I got up and put my dishes in the kitchen. I knew I sounded like I was on the verge of tears because I was. As I was walking by him to get to the stairs Kyle tried to poke my arm. It’s a thing we have, from the Facebook poke feature I guess. We randomly poke each other and say, “Poke”. It’s stupid and I know it is and I couldn’t handle it last night.

He reached out to poke me and I backed away.

Me: I’m sorry. I hurt right now. It’s seven days until my birthday.

It was only three sentences, but it was the first time I verbally told anyone that I hurt. It was the first time admitting my fear even though I didn’t really say it was a fear. I’m scared of my birthday. I don’t want it to come. My throat kept getting tighter as I said those words and even though they were so few by the end I thought I would choke if I had to say more.

I think Kyle tried to say something to me but I was so close to breaking down that I didn’t stay to listen. I jogged up the stairs as fast as I could and bearly closed the door before I started sobbing.

I hate how all of my writings recently seem to come back to this. Me crying. Me talking about mom. Me missing her and obsessing over the fact that she’s dead. I’m sure it’s annoying to read. At what point am I going to get on with my life and stop whining about not having her?

It’s my second birthday without her.

It sucks.

It sucks and I hate this. Even though there’s a lot of really awesome things in my life now like Big Bad and Master and jiujitsu when I’m able to actually get to the dojo and losing 20% body fat and leaving Full Sail, this one thing, this one piece of my life overshadows all of that. Or at least makes it break even to where I’m neutral.

I have all these things. I have all of this confidence in myself.

I don’t have my mom.

I won’t have a phone call from her on the 20th. I won’t have a birthday card. I won’t have an “I love you.”

I knew this time would be the hardest for me, which is why I took the coming week off from work. I only have 20 hours of PTO to cover it. That means my check is going to be short by half.

This is why I have my savings. This is why I’m not going to take care of other people anymore. Because there are still going to be times where I need to take care of myself, like know. Like on April 4th; the two-year mark.

I cried for a really long time Tuesday night and I cried hard and I didn’t care if my roommates could hear my screams through my pillows. I didn’t care if my grief made anyone else uncomfortable because in that moment I was bleeding out on my bed all of the hurt and pain that I have been trying to work with and breath around and hold on to because I have to go to work, I have to donate plasma, or grocery shop, or take care of laundry, or any of the number of life things that I “need” to take care of.

I can’t stop and deal with the pain. I can’t cope with it and slow down and let myself heal the way I need to. I have to keep up with society. I have to keep functioning because you can’t not function in the world we’ve allowed to develop.

Tuesday night I gave zero fucks and I cried all of it into my pillows.

I eventually calmed down. I looked at my phone and had a message from Kyle saying he was sorry. He hasn’t meant to push me.

I said there was nothing to be sorry for. That he had done nothing wrong and that I would get better eventually even though I didn’t have a specific time for when that would happen.

He offered for me to come downstairs and watch the rest of The Incredible Hulk with him since we had watched part of it Sunday night before I had to call it quits to get to sleep on time.

I said I might cry if I came downstairs to which he replied that was ok.

I got up. I showered. I changed into comfy pjs. I took my contacts out and put my glasses on. I dragged my fuzzy blanket with me. It’s not as awesome as Big Bad’s fuzzy blanket, but it’s a decent substitute. I curled up in “my” corner of the couch and we finished watching the movie together.

I wasn’t ready to go to work on Wednesday, not after Tuesday night, but I did it. I survived it and I only have one more day of work to get through before my week off.

And so now I’m at today.

I woke up feeling “with it”. I don’t know how else to explain it.

I trained really well. I know my arms will be sore tomorrow and I’m looking forward to it.

I only have one more training session left with L before I have to buy more. I don’t think I’m going to, though. Right now I can’t justify that much money. But I think that’s ok. On Tuesdays and Thursdays there a 6:30 am jiujitsu class at the dojo. I can go there in the morning before school. I can potentially do boxing/kickboxing during the afternoons. I can definitely get to Title Club on Fridays, which I’ll start having off in January. That also leaves me Sundays which I’ll be able to start working out on again since I won’t be working two 16 hour shifts in a row anymore.

I do have three hours worth of personal training I bought from Title Club during October while they were doing a super awesome deal. I haven’t cashed that in yet because I haven’t had time to, but my instructor knows about my situation and agreed that the new year would work best for him as well. That’s where I’m going to start focusing on footwork and how to move in the ring with an opponent.

So maybe for this first semester of school, it would be good to back off of the personal training with L and to focus on finding a rhythm with the dojo again. It would also be a break financially which could help things righten themselves.

Kyle hasn’t mentioned anything about his old job but I’m pretty sure he should get the background check cleared by the end of this week.

I gave my FA the form he needed to fill out for my certification yesterday. He was supposed to get it back to me but didn’t, so I’m going to text him and see if he could email it to me. That’s another part of what my savings are going to go towards. My company will reimburse me for the certification fee, but I still have to cover it on my own up front. That’s close to $300.

Hooray…. said no one ever.

I do plan to study today after donating, which I’m about to go do after I shower once more.

I feel stronger today then I have in a while. I know I’m going to have dark days ahead of me, some of them in the very near future, so for right now I’m going to enjoy the warmth and clarity that I feel within myself and get as much done as I can. The more I do know the less rough the hard days will be even if I lose sight of that while I’m in them.