Two Wednesdays ago, I took my first midterm of the year. I also donated blood for the first time about ten to fifteen minutes beforehand. When I got home, I felt like I would die. I didn't, but I slept a lot until I felt fine again. It took about a week before I was completely fine again, but I am still really proud that I donated. Almost 20 years ago, I was hospitalized and given blood transfusions that surely saved my life, besides the birth control pills, so donating blood has always been important to me.
My midterms are officially done and I did well on my Global Studies 101 exam, which means that I actually got a C+. My teacher gave us a 6 point boost, so my official grade is a B. I don't know what the grade on my Peace Studies midterm is, but I feel a little iffy about it. The short answer questions really threw me off (and I didn't really review until right before the test). Now, I'm slowly guiding into that lull of class that most students are in as we enter the final weeks of class. I am still ridiculously glad that I decided to take classes this semester because I feel more and more at home as time passes. I don't know what I'm going to do once this semester is over.
Yesterday, I realized that I have shopping fatigue again. It has become too tedious and exhausting to shop for myself, but I do enjoy shopping for other people. I had shopping fatigue a little over two years ago and the only thing that fixed it was getting job so I was too tired to do anything else but appreciate shopping again. Coming off a year where I spent a lot of money to get past grieving, feeling this fatigue is nice for me and maybe my bank accounts. It's a sign of normalcy that has returned to my life since the insanity of what happened.
Normalcy hasn't been something that I've been consciously striving for. I don't know when I stopped working towards it, but I have and it's been nice. I like thinking about my future and wrapping it around school and my family. It's a bit refreshing to think about what I am going to minor in (which will be history and American Sign Language) and what I'm going to do for Thanksgiving. It's nice to even think about going on trips because one of my favorite vloggers has motivated me to travel. It's nice to be just a 30 year old woman and that's it. I miss Tym all the time, even more so yesterday during a difficult time getting to Target, but I also realized that he took care of me a lot.
While I am fairly independent, I am smart enough to know that I've been coddled and guarded the majority of my life. I enjoy it, but I think I enjoy my independence and diving into the unknown a little more. I've established a new kind of comfort zone and I know not to push myself beyond it too much.
I have a lot more that I want to talk about because the last couple of weeks have been pretty good, but I'll end this post here. I'm doing really well and feeling optimistic. That's the point.
Showing posts with label Feelings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Feelings. Show all posts
October 30, 2015
October 16, 2015
Page 278: An Education
I have been so intellectually stimulated in the past month and a half. I've been to my fair share of colleges (four, I think), so there has been moments when I've been really into what I was studying at the time. However, I have never been this intellectually stimulated when it's come to my education and I am willing to invest everything I have (and will have) to continue getting this "education high."
I've never had a hard time believing that I was a smart person. I heard about my intelligence so much when I was a child, so I don't think I was ever insecure about it, but there has always been a question about whether I was being intellectually challenged and/or stimulated. When I dropped out of high school at 15, my grandmother inadvertently vouched for me when she told my mother that I wasn't being challenged and the boredom was the reason I didn't want to go to school. I don't know if that was ever fully the case, but I do remember not being as engaged as I should have been. I was pretty much waiting to get to college but even then, staying engaged posed a challenge for me because classes were either too easy or not easy enough.
Did I mention that I had really low expectations coming into this semester? I did. I wasn't even sure I was going to be taking classes this semester until the week before classes started, so I didn't have a lot of time to think about the classes I was going to take and how I would feel about them. I just knew that this was going to be the last year I would be able to go to school before my financial aid completely ran out and given that I was still unemployed, I decided to give this year a shot.
I was excited by all of the new student welcoming things and socializing, especially because I'd never been to a big university before and my first days of class at MATC were not as exciting, but I had no idea that I would end up learning so much and contributing to my education as well as the education of my classmates.
My teachers are highly intelligent women (My Global Studies 101 professor is a PhD in Nursing and does study abroad in Kenya, where she also helps people with HIV and AIDS while my Intro to Conflict Resolution and Peace Studies teacher is a Masters' in Sustainable Peacebuilding student who is only a year older than me and was an English and photography major). I get along with a few of my classmates. One of my classes has a huge number of students while the other has a smaller number students, so that balances out. I really can't find much wrong with my classes at all. Even the distance between my classes (one is literally a sky-walk away from the Union while the other one is about a five-minute walk away from the Union) is wonderful.
This week, a public defender came into my Intro to Conflict Resolution class to speak about incarceration rates and how the prison system has, in essence, become the "new Jim Crow" and I was amazed. Here was a lawyer who was my age and doing her best with her education. She was also super intelligent and I was a little in love with her. It was wonderful and may have reignited an interest for me to pursue law further down the line.
It's amazing to me that at the age of 30, fifteen years after I dropped out of high school, I finally know what it feels like to have this kind of mental stimulation in school. When writing became common and repetitive, after I lost my job and no longer had a daily challenge, and now that cooking is somewhat impossible in my kitchen; school came along and I am so ecstatic that it did.
I've never had a hard time believing that I was a smart person. I heard about my intelligence so much when I was a child, so I don't think I was ever insecure about it, but there has always been a question about whether I was being intellectually challenged and/or stimulated. When I dropped out of high school at 15, my grandmother inadvertently vouched for me when she told my mother that I wasn't being challenged and the boredom was the reason I didn't want to go to school. I don't know if that was ever fully the case, but I do remember not being as engaged as I should have been. I was pretty much waiting to get to college but even then, staying engaged posed a challenge for me because classes were either too easy or not easy enough.
Did I mention that I had really low expectations coming into this semester? I did. I wasn't even sure I was going to be taking classes this semester until the week before classes started, so I didn't have a lot of time to think about the classes I was going to take and how I would feel about them. I just knew that this was going to be the last year I would be able to go to school before my financial aid completely ran out and given that I was still unemployed, I decided to give this year a shot.
I was excited by all of the new student welcoming things and socializing, especially because I'd never been to a big university before and my first days of class at MATC were not as exciting, but I had no idea that I would end up learning so much and contributing to my education as well as the education of my classmates.
My teachers are highly intelligent women (My Global Studies 101 professor is a PhD in Nursing and does study abroad in Kenya, where she also helps people with HIV and AIDS while my Intro to Conflict Resolution and Peace Studies teacher is a Masters' in Sustainable Peacebuilding student who is only a year older than me and was an English and photography major). I get along with a few of my classmates. One of my classes has a huge number of students while the other has a smaller number students, so that balances out. I really can't find much wrong with my classes at all. Even the distance between my classes (one is literally a sky-walk away from the Union while the other one is about a five-minute walk away from the Union) is wonderful.
This week, a public defender came into my Intro to Conflict Resolution class to speak about incarceration rates and how the prison system has, in essence, become the "new Jim Crow" and I was amazed. Here was a lawyer who was my age and doing her best with her education. She was also super intelligent and I was a little in love with her. It was wonderful and may have reignited an interest for me to pursue law further down the line.
It's amazing to me that at the age of 30, fifteen years after I dropped out of high school, I finally know what it feels like to have this kind of mental stimulation in school. When writing became common and repetitive, after I lost my job and no longer had a daily challenge, and now that cooking is somewhat impossible in my kitchen; school came along and I am so ecstatic that it did.
October 9, 2015
Page 271: The Art of Reinvesting in Myself
 |
| Me, three years ago |
I went to the dentist and instead of him doing constant extractions, I asked him to repair my teeth. At the time, I thought that they were in such disrepair that they would all need to be removed. However, my dentist gave me fillings and allowed me to smile fully, as you can see in the picture above. I took some work but I paid my dental insurance premiums and did the work of getting to my appointments and letting Dr. Meinhardt work his magic.
After a huge fight with my mom that left us barely talking to one another and made me a wreck during the summer of 2012, I decided to start going to therapy. I did the work of going every week and being able to talk through all of my problems as well as allowing myself to take the proper medication to help my anxiety. I had thought that therapy was not for me after two horrible instances with doctors who either misdiagnosed me with every mental illness in the book or thought that I didn't take therapy seriously. I was able to express myself better without ranting on my blog or bottling it all up.
Despite all the things I still needed to work on like my marriage, money skills and the fact that I had no solid job, I was really proud that I had fixed my teeth and started to go to therapy and that made a huge difference.
A year later, I hit a major hurdle. I went into a self-imposed seclusion. I left school. I stopped going to the dentist. When my therapist from the year before had begun a new rotation and I had to see a new therapist, I started to lapse until I just wasn't going anymore. I barely went to the doctor and put off my hand surgery until September of that year. I got a new job in November, so I put my everything into that. Then, I didn't have time to go to therapy or to the dentist. My marriage had even gone from the sporadic visit from Tym to speaking solely on the telephone sporadically until he died last year.
For the most part, I spent the last months of 2014 working, grieving and spending money. I saw a therapist sporadically until he decided that he would not support my extended medical leave. I fired him promptly and didn't see anyone else until I saw a therapist once earlier this year. I never saw him again.
Despite the joy I feel that I'm in school and I'm studying something really important to me, I really feel...unhealthy (for lack of a better word).
My teeth have gone into disrepair again. I have more weight than my frame can handle and I now have to take blood pressure medication. I'm crying more than I did before Tym's death and probably during my grieving phase. When I'm at school; I suck back Wild Cherry Pepsi like it's water and my stomach has a hard time tolerating caffeine. My diet is nearly as healthy as I would like it to be and that's really disappointing because I really enjoy cooking and I am a great cook.
Mentally, I don't feel well at all. I'm not sleeping well. I've been having more panic attacks. I don't write nearly enough so I'm not really expressing myself that way. I hide away in my disheveled bedroom with the lights either dimmed or off, though my lights are so dimmed that I would be better off not having it on at all. I don't even listen to my music as much as I used to. I almost always feel trapped and powerless and incompetent. The dosages of my medication has increased instead of decreased.
It's really obvious that shit needs to change.
After getting myself this low, it feels pretty impossible to even think about where to begin but I guess that I'm acknowledging that there is a problem and I want to change it is a pretty big step. I know that there is a huge chance that Tym's death is part of why I've let myself deteriorate, but I don't want that to become an excuse that I'm using five or ten years down the line. It bugs the hell out of me that I am still grieving and it's only been a little over a year (and I know that it will take time, but I'm not a patient person).
I'm going to make some changes, though. If I could do it at 27, and that was a good year out of a shitty decade, I can do it at 30. My hope is that I won't have to do it again at 33 or 43 or ever because starting over all the time sucks. Now, though, I'm going to do it because I need to. I may not always want to, but I need to.
I'll start with therapy again, because I have a plan with that. I have an appointment in November and I'm going to go, whether I have a job or not, because I need my mental health to be in the best optimal condition. I'm going to make better choices with my diet, in hopes that I'll start cooking again soon. I have a slow cooker and I love that thing so much, so I definitely plan on using it again. I'm going to purchase dental insurance again because I really need to get my teeth worked on again and I like having wonderful front teeth or a nice set of teeth that I can flash when I smile.
I think if I can start with these things, everything else will fall into place. Great things are not easy things but they're necessary. I'm necessary.
October 6, 2015
Page 268: Figuring it Out as I Go
It wasn't my intention to be away as long as I have been. It's just that the longer I looked at my blog, I realized that I didn't have much to write about. To be honest, I still don't, but I think we'll be okay. We'll just have to take things slowly.
Last Thursday, I officially took the plunge and declared Global Security as my major. If I'm being technical, Global Studies is my major but Global Security is the track I'm in. I've decided to simplify things and say that I am a Global Security major. I feel accomplished now, especially because I'd come into school as Undeclared. I had set up an appointment and gone to that appointment to declare myself as an English major, but something went horribly wrong there. Now, I have an official major and I'm feeling good about it. I have about 55 credits to go, so that's about four more years or less if I decide to take 15 credits each semester. I'll figure it out, but it's not something I'm worried about.
As of today, I am sick. I have a cold, and I don't even think it's a bad one but it's definitely trying to take me down. I missed two days of classes, but I have an interview tomorrow so I have to go. Next week is also the midterms, so I want to be absolutely on top of my game for them. If that means I have to pump myself with so much cold medicine, I'm sweating DayQuil, so be it.
I feel hopeful. This is a statement I've used many times thus far, but I do feel hopeful. Last night, I was feeling pretty dark, so it's nice to wake up and feel like things will be okay. I feel like a lot is going on in my life, but I don't think there's ever been a time where a lot hasn't been going on in my adult life. I tend to do well when overwhelmed, believe it or not. Methinks it's the anxiety that gets me going.
I'm super excited about going down this road to whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to do. Global Security and peace building is actually making me reassess who I am as a person and how I do things, because I don't want to be a hypocrite. It's hellish and wonderful trying to be a better woman. It's also hellish and wonderful assessing just how much power I have to make positive change. I'm not going to be able to make a difference overnight and I'm trying to reconcile with that, but I think it will be okay because the change I hope to make will be long-lasting and that's better than anything else.
Last Thursday, I officially took the plunge and declared Global Security as my major. If I'm being technical, Global Studies is my major but Global Security is the track I'm in. I've decided to simplify things and say that I am a Global Security major. I feel accomplished now, especially because I'd come into school as Undeclared. I had set up an appointment and gone to that appointment to declare myself as an English major, but something went horribly wrong there. Now, I have an official major and I'm feeling good about it. I have about 55 credits to go, so that's about four more years or less if I decide to take 15 credits each semester. I'll figure it out, but it's not something I'm worried about.
As of today, I am sick. I have a cold, and I don't even think it's a bad one but it's definitely trying to take me down. I missed two days of classes, but I have an interview tomorrow so I have to go. Next week is also the midterms, so I want to be absolutely on top of my game for them. If that means I have to pump myself with so much cold medicine, I'm sweating DayQuil, so be it.
I feel hopeful. This is a statement I've used many times thus far, but I do feel hopeful. Last night, I was feeling pretty dark, so it's nice to wake up and feel like things will be okay. I feel like a lot is going on in my life, but I don't think there's ever been a time where a lot hasn't been going on in my adult life. I tend to do well when overwhelmed, believe it or not. Methinks it's the anxiety that gets me going.
I'm super excited about going down this road to whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to do. Global Security and peace building is actually making me reassess who I am as a person and how I do things, because I don't want to be a hypocrite. It's hellish and wonderful trying to be a better woman. It's also hellish and wonderful assessing just how much power I have to make positive change. I'm not going to be able to make a difference overnight and I'm trying to reconcile with that, but I think it will be okay because the change I hope to make will be long-lasting and that's better than anything else.
September 25, 2015
Page 257: I Hope It's Not a Load-Bearing Wall
Yesterday, Meredith Grey bashed through her old life with a sledgehammer.
Okay, that is a bit of hyperbole, but I feel like Meredith was ready to start anew in last night's season 12 premiere of Grey's Anatomy. For a brief time during the end sequence of the show, I saw myself.
Okay, that is a bit of hyperbole, but I feel like Meredith was ready to start anew in last night's season 12 premiere of Grey's Anatomy. For a brief time during the end sequence of the show, I saw myself.
***
Welcome to your life. There's no turning back.
At around 3:30 am, I found myself crying and laughing at the same time.
I would be lying if I said that life since Tym's death has been easy. It's a constant cycle of change. Some days, I'm okay. Some days, I'm not. Whether I'm okay or not, I've pushed forward and continuing to live because there is so much that I want to do with my life.
I've been having bad dreams lately, dreams where I've been haunted by ghosts in almost a literal sense. I've dreamed about Tym. I've dreamed about my maternal grandmother. I've dreamed about my father. I wake up feeling panicked and sick and sad. It's likely that my stress has manifested in these dreams but I've never dreamed about my late relatives suffering like I've had this week. In an effort to fix this, I finally made a call to speak with a therapist again.
Going back to yesterday's episode of Grey's Anatomy, Meredith was pretty pissed with Amelia about putting a hole in the wall of the living room in their house. Of course, this caused conflict throughout the episode but there was a moment where Owen, dependable Owen, was almost caught in the middle of an argument between Mer and Amelia about the wall during a surgery. His response to diffuse the situation? He asked if the wall was load-bearing and then advised that the foundation of the house could collapse if it was. Again, the parallel between Meredith and myself and that damn wall was resonating.
In the past few months, I have really beaten myself up because I feel like I've made some really huge mistakes. I know that grief was motive, but that feeling of failure never goes away. When I'm not feeling like I'm a total fuck-up, I think about how far I've come in the past year. It probably wouldn't seem like I've made much progress but I think I have.
I've fully dedicated myself to school. I have struggles with wanting to go and having to sit through class and questioning if I'm even making the right decision. However, I am learning so much and my critical thinking abilities have improved and I've finally found a place where I feel like I can try to make a difference and satisfy myself at the same time. Yesterday, I had a wonderful lecture at school. Later that day, I had a conversation with my mother and told her that this is "my work." I discussed what the lecture was about and the new Global Goals initiative and said, "My work would include..." I felt really freaking successful in that moment.
In the meantime, I'm also looking for a job because I want to keep working on my studies and I'm going to have to start paying my tuition soon. I also have a lot of things I want to do with my life in general and while getting unemployment is great, I miss the astronomical amount of money I made biweekly when I was working (especially with the mandatory overtime).
I like that I'm moving forward and I want to keep moving forward, but I really do hope that I don't let my foundation collapse because I've destroyed a load-bearing wall. Since none of that is actually literal for me, it means that I hope that I can keep myself up without making myself sick or letting everything I am building right now fall apart. I like to think that I have a lot of time to do everything I want, but I'm still learning and maybe that's a good thing.
September 20, 2015
Page 253: The Art of Wanting to Give Up (and Not Doing So)
Last week was one of the hardest weeks I've had in months. I'm good under pressure and find that I work really well in those conditions, but it's only when necessary. Last week, up until yesterday, felt unnecessary and I became a hopeless wreck.
There are very few outside influences that sends my anxiety off the charts. Money is one of them. I loved my job and everything that came with it, so it broke my heart when I no longer felt comfortable there after Tym's death. I blame him and the circumstances, even though he couldn't control dying. Still, he was the only person who could throw me off my perch and he did. Not having a job and not making as much money as I used to has me in a spiral of anxiety and frustration.
I missed two classes last week and that made me feel even worse because I am so content with my school schedule, but I am literally being pulled in two different directions. I can do school and not make any money or I can work and not take classes. When I started this semester, I thought I was doing what God had wanted of me, but I'm not sure anymore.
I thought about giving up last week. I thought about dropping my classes and not looking for work and instead just laying in bed and crying until I ran out of tears. I felt like being in a maze I couldn't get out of, and then I went to class on Thursday and saw an alarming video on war in my Peace Studies class.
Talk about a mindfuck.
When I came out of class that day, I felt even more hopeless than before because that feeling of defeat was on a more global scale. I was sure that the only way that things would get better was if I became President or if God just ended the world. Until yesterday, I was all for God ending the world now. Do you know what happened next?
I remembered that it was my half-birthday.
My half-birthday is nothing special, if I'm being honest, but I think it's special because it's the birthday of an old friend of mine. Until last year, I wished her a happy birthday and she would wish me a happy half-birthday. On my birthday, I would wish her a happy half-birthday and she would wish me a happy birthday. Even though we weren't super close, it was our tradition and that tradition reminded me that there are bad things in the world but there are also good things in the world. I also felt like if I just gave up, I would be letting God and my family down, especially since I was as strong as I could be after Tym died.
I wish I knew what I'm supposed to be doing. I wish I knew that things would be okay. I don't know anyone who likes being scared and uncertainty is a scary thing for me. I'm trying to build myself back up from Hell Week, but I think I'll be different this time. I'll have to be more compromising and non-resistant because there are things that need to be done right now and it'll just keep getting worse if I'm not flexible to it. I've been through situations like this many times. I know how this works and I know that I'm going to have to start fighting again. So, let's do this.
There are very few outside influences that sends my anxiety off the charts. Money is one of them. I loved my job and everything that came with it, so it broke my heart when I no longer felt comfortable there after Tym's death. I blame him and the circumstances, even though he couldn't control dying. Still, he was the only person who could throw me off my perch and he did. Not having a job and not making as much money as I used to has me in a spiral of anxiety and frustration.
I missed two classes last week and that made me feel even worse because I am so content with my school schedule, but I am literally being pulled in two different directions. I can do school and not make any money or I can work and not take classes. When I started this semester, I thought I was doing what God had wanted of me, but I'm not sure anymore.
I thought about giving up last week. I thought about dropping my classes and not looking for work and instead just laying in bed and crying until I ran out of tears. I felt like being in a maze I couldn't get out of, and then I went to class on Thursday and saw an alarming video on war in my Peace Studies class.
Talk about a mindfuck.
When I came out of class that day, I felt even more hopeless than before because that feeling of defeat was on a more global scale. I was sure that the only way that things would get better was if I became President or if God just ended the world. Until yesterday, I was all for God ending the world now. Do you know what happened next?
I remembered that it was my half-birthday.
My half-birthday is nothing special, if I'm being honest, but I think it's special because it's the birthday of an old friend of mine. Until last year, I wished her a happy birthday and she would wish me a happy half-birthday. On my birthday, I would wish her a happy half-birthday and she would wish me a happy birthday. Even though we weren't super close, it was our tradition and that tradition reminded me that there are bad things in the world but there are also good things in the world. I also felt like if I just gave up, I would be letting God and my family down, especially since I was as strong as I could be after Tym died.
I wish I knew what I'm supposed to be doing. I wish I knew that things would be okay. I don't know anyone who likes being scared and uncertainty is a scary thing for me. I'm trying to build myself back up from Hell Week, but I think I'll be different this time. I'll have to be more compromising and non-resistant because there are things that need to be done right now and it'll just keep getting worse if I'm not flexible to it. I've been through situations like this many times. I know how this works and I know that I'm going to have to start fighting again. So, let's do this.
September 9, 2015
Page 241: To the Kid Who Wore Jeans on Her Wedding Day
On this day, seven years ago, I got married. I was 23, naïve and in love. I'd never been in love like that before, so getting married was the next step.
It was a big step for me. I'd never planned on getting married but there I was, in the basement of a courthouse, saying "I Do," and it was perfect. The day, though gray and dreary, was perfect. I don't know how, but I managed to find someone just as weird (if not weirder) as I was. I think he was weirder, though.
Tym introduced me to a lot of things and despite our ups and downs, he was my best friends and one of my biggest advocates. There was one time when I accidentally dropped out of my Spanish class and he actually became indignant when I told him that I wasn't sure that the teacher would let me back in, despite the fact that I was passing. He kept me afloat many times and I'd like to think that I kept him afloat as well. He stopped going to Chicago to get his taxes done because I was good at it.
When he went back home, I was devastated. I didn't know how I would get over it. I was mad at him and at myself because I felt like I had failed and I didn't want a failed marriage like Ross on Friends. We went through so much that I was forced to grow up. I matured so much in such a little time because I had no choice. He made me so happy but he also made me so sad.
I always told myself that we just needed to get to five years. If we got to our fifth anniversary, we would be fine. That's what I believed and when we did, I felt successful. I managed a long distance marriage for five years and that felt like a victory. Then, he was gone for good and yet, I still acknowledge my marriage.
I told my mother last month that I won't talk about him anymore and that I will move forward with my life, but he's still there. He's still in my heart and my mind, despite his death. Sometimes, I wonder if I should keep talking about him so I can grieve properly, but it's devastating to relive that day over and over. It's hard to be labeled "widow" even though I'm only 30. When my dad died, my mom was nearly in her 50s. She'd spent almost 30 years with him, married him and had his children. I don't have any children, even though it's for the best right now. All I have of him is some of his clothes and some of his belongings, as well as memories.
I still feel successful. I did what I was supposed to do and I can look back fondly at our great moments. I'm embarrassed of our bad moments, but they were natural. I don't know how many people will experience love like the love I had, but I hope they do because it'll keep them going. It keeps me going. So, here's to seven years. It was well earned.
September 8, 2015
Page 240: My Conflict with My Conflict Resolution Course
I want to start this post off by saying that I am in love with my classes and I hope that this is indeed learning on my part. I hate hypocrisy with a fiery, burning passion, so it would kill me if I was a hypocrite or became one.
*
I am a person with a bad temper. I always have been. I was born with it. Seriously, I was 5 pounds, 8 ounces and screaming my little head off with my fist balled up when the doctors delivered me via c-section. When I've lost my temper, I've grabbed things. I've been involved in house-destroying fist fights. My mother told me at 13 that I would need to learn self-control after a particularly disturbing incident involving me, a baseball bat and a family member that was causing trouble, and what I would have done.
As I've gotten older, I've learned a lot of self-control and I haven't had a fist fight in about seven years. I've learned to keep my temper under a lot of control, even to the point of having to take anti-anxiety medication because all of that anger is turned inward and becomes nausea and panic attacks. If I find myself in a conflict, I shut down. I cut people off. They cease to exist. It works to an extent, so I can keep from doing or saying something hurtful and cruel because I've seen cruelty and I don't want to be a cruel person.
I've become very interested in trying to improve the world. On the night that President Obama was elected, I told my sister, my husband and my mother that I helped change the world. Even though I am older and more realistic, I feel like I can do good. It gives me a sense of purpose. There's just something about writing that doesn't fulfill me and I see it as a selfish hobby, a selfish existence, at times. I don't feel this way about any writer except myself, but we're all our own worst enemies. To me, writers can change the world but I can't if I'm writing.
I want to teach. I love children and I feel like I could help them become great people, but even that's not enough for me anymore. I didn't realize this until I started taking the courses I'm in now. The courses enforced in me a feeling that I need to help change the world for the better. It enforced me a feeling that I've finally figured out what I want to do with my life, and maybe this is why I'm here.
There's a small problem that I've encountered, though.
My temper has come back and I am very angry.
It's been like this for a while now, on and off, but my Intro to Conflict Resolution and Peace Studies course has made me become aware of the injustices in the world and it's making me rage on all of the things that are problematic on a global and familial scale. I want to change things, yes, but I also want to solve the problems I'm having with violence. That is not resolving conflict or being peaceful at all. It's also against my faith, so this craving goes against a lot of things. I rant sometimes and it helps sometimes. Shutting down is pretty good, too. It keeps me from going ballistic. My attitude is problematic, to say the least, and I want to change it. It's just hard because it feels like all the wrong people doing all the wrong things have all the power and there's no way to stop them. I feel powerless.
My biggest goal at this moment is to become a better advocate for sustainable peace-building and I can't do that if I'm raging out. Maybe I'll take up boxing or something.
August 31, 2015
Page 232: Goodbye, August
Yesterday, I literally scoured the internet to find out what day my father's birthday was. I promise I'm not a bad daughter. I simply thought that his birthday was today and not August 30th.
I'm a bad daughter.
Forgetting my late father's birthday aside, August was a good month. It was a full month. I strengthened my mind by playing lots of Tetris and Quiz Up. Then, I destroyed all that new brain power by watching Sex and the City as well as vlogs. I broke my social media vacation and applied to lots of jobs. I hung out with my sister and went to see a scary movie that made me scream at the beginning and completely underwhelmed me at the end. I finally renewed my library card and visited the library for the first time in at least two years. Last week, I had an internship interview. It went well and would've gone better if I was a full-time student this semester. Still, the internship coordinator loved me and I think she would've made an exception if she could have. From the résumé to my personality, she loved me.
I spent the weekend going to Best Buy, literally. I went there yesterday, Saturday and Friday. I also went there today and I was more than relieved to have everything finally settled so I don't need to go back. I had to replace my headphones, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was that I had a warranty for a DSLR I no longer have and I wanted my refund. The customer service people at Best Buy kept screwing it up, so that meant for various trips. I was highly pissed off yesterday by what I thought was complete incompetence. Finally, it was fixed, though, so I don't have to go back there for a while. I'm so happy.
This week, I start my classes and I'm excited. I didn't even think I would actually be able to go this semester, but a last-minute surprise came through and my classes were fully paid for. I'm taking Intro to Global Studies: People and Politics as well as Intro to Conflict Resolution and Peace Studies this fall and one of my classes is actually in an old hospital. I'm pretty excited about it, to be honest, although I'm a little worried about ghosts. My class is during the day, but still.
I feel like these classes will be a challenge to me mentally because the syllabi show that they will evoke emotions in completely opposite directions. We all know about politics at this point, and we know that they are not easy and not peaceful a lot of the time, so I'm going to have to deal with that in my Global Studies course. Then, I'm going to have to go into my Conflict Resolution class and learn how to become a peaceful part of society the next day. I really don't know how to feel about that, even though I am a person who is always up for a challenge. I hope that I can work through some of my feelings about what I am studying and what is going on in this country. It won't be easy. I really won't, but college isn't supposed to be easy. Right?
By the way, I started writing again. It's baby steps currently, but I've been slowly getting through the fog. I feel like something is being lifted off me, even though I can't wait until I start doing more. Maybe it was a summer thing and now that summer is almost over, the weight of not writing is lifting. That's what I hope it was. I'm ready for the fall and all the tranquility I happen to find during these months.
I'm a bad daughter.
Forgetting my late father's birthday aside, August was a good month. It was a full month. I strengthened my mind by playing lots of Tetris and Quiz Up. Then, I destroyed all that new brain power by watching Sex and the City as well as vlogs. I broke my social media vacation and applied to lots of jobs. I hung out with my sister and went to see a scary movie that made me scream at the beginning and completely underwhelmed me at the end. I finally renewed my library card and visited the library for the first time in at least two years. Last week, I had an internship interview. It went well and would've gone better if I was a full-time student this semester. Still, the internship coordinator loved me and I think she would've made an exception if she could have. From the résumé to my personality, she loved me.
I spent the weekend going to Best Buy, literally. I went there yesterday, Saturday and Friday. I also went there today and I was more than relieved to have everything finally settled so I don't need to go back. I had to replace my headphones, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was that I had a warranty for a DSLR I no longer have and I wanted my refund. The customer service people at Best Buy kept screwing it up, so that meant for various trips. I was highly pissed off yesterday by what I thought was complete incompetence. Finally, it was fixed, though, so I don't have to go back there for a while. I'm so happy.
This week, I start my classes and I'm excited. I didn't even think I would actually be able to go this semester, but a last-minute surprise came through and my classes were fully paid for. I'm taking Intro to Global Studies: People and Politics as well as Intro to Conflict Resolution and Peace Studies this fall and one of my classes is actually in an old hospital. I'm pretty excited about it, to be honest, although I'm a little worried about ghosts. My class is during the day, but still.
I feel like these classes will be a challenge to me mentally because the syllabi show that they will evoke emotions in completely opposite directions. We all know about politics at this point, and we know that they are not easy and not peaceful a lot of the time, so I'm going to have to deal with that in my Global Studies course. Then, I'm going to have to go into my Conflict Resolution class and learn how to become a peaceful part of society the next day. I really don't know how to feel about that, even though I am a person who is always up for a challenge. I hope that I can work through some of my feelings about what I am studying and what is going on in this country. It won't be easy. I really won't, but college isn't supposed to be easy. Right?
By the way, I started writing again. It's baby steps currently, but I've been slowly getting through the fog. I feel like something is being lifted off me, even though I can't wait until I start doing more. Maybe it was a summer thing and now that summer is almost over, the weight of not writing is lifting. That's what I hope it was. I'm ready for the fall and all the tranquility I happen to find during these months.
April 23, 2015
Page 114: Getting Out of the Way
Yesterday, I realized that I've gotten in my way a lot more than I thought and it isn't in a good way. If you were to ask me how I was two weeks ago, I would tell you that I'm fine. Only now have I realized that I have been lying.
I've mentioned in a previous blog post that all I wanted was to be normal again, so I don't need to rehash any of that. However, I think it's time that I get it through my head that the old normal is never coming back. Returning to who I was last summer is not going to happen. Forcing myself into that corner is just making my grief worse and unbearable.
I watched my normal favorite television show last night and as I was watching it, getting past the huge spoiler that everyone probably knows now, I started to sympathize with the character's surviving spouse a little too much. When the police were at her door and told her that there had been an accident, I thought of my very own phone call from the police and them telling me that there had been an accident. Maybe I should be lucky that Tym was dead at the site, but the conversation about how the organs weren't viable for donation was one that I also had. It still angers me when people tell me that they're sorry for my loss. The surviving character's loss was like my loss was happening again and the pain in my chest feels even worse than it did back in July.
I was told by my sister and my mother that I needed to remember how far I've come, but I think that's unfair to them and to me. I'm forcing myself not to grieve. I'm forcing myself to separate from what happened. I'm forcing myself to pretend that I can move on with my life because I'm now 30 and I need to move on with my life. Right?
I need to take a step back and really work on reconstructing my life instead of just saying that I am or planning it halfheartedly. Blogging and social media isn't really tools for getting it together, so I'm taking a step back from that as well. I won't be gone forever but while I'm gone, I'm going to finally grieve my husband.
I've mentioned in a previous blog post that all I wanted was to be normal again, so I don't need to rehash any of that. However, I think it's time that I get it through my head that the old normal is never coming back. Returning to who I was last summer is not going to happen. Forcing myself into that corner is just making my grief worse and unbearable.
I watched my normal favorite television show last night and as I was watching it, getting past the huge spoiler that everyone probably knows now, I started to sympathize with the character's surviving spouse a little too much. When the police were at her door and told her that there had been an accident, I thought of my very own phone call from the police and them telling me that there had been an accident. Maybe I should be lucky that Tym was dead at the site, but the conversation about how the organs weren't viable for donation was one that I also had. It still angers me when people tell me that they're sorry for my loss. The surviving character's loss was like my loss was happening again and the pain in my chest feels even worse than it did back in July.
I was told by my sister and my mother that I needed to remember how far I've come, but I think that's unfair to them and to me. I'm forcing myself not to grieve. I'm forcing myself to separate from what happened. I'm forcing myself to pretend that I can move on with my life because I'm now 30 and I need to move on with my life. Right?
I need to take a step back and really work on reconstructing my life instead of just saying that I am or planning it halfheartedly. Blogging and social media isn't really tools for getting it together, so I'm taking a step back from that as well. I won't be gone forever but while I'm gone, I'm going to finally grieve my husband.
April 18, 2015
Page 109: Life is an Ongoing Train
When I started this blog, I couldn't bear to spend one day away from it. I guess you could call it separation anxiety but because it was so new, I felt like I had to blog almost every night. I ended up with about 800 posts in a span of maybe two years. I think that's right.
I had to tell myself that it was okay if I missed a couple of days of not blogging. I had to train myself not to freak out if I missed a week or so. I couldn't take a blog break to save my life. Then, life got really busy and I had to begin considering hanging this blog up because I didn't have any time or any stories to tell because I was just working and sleeping. Tym's death inadvertently reinvigorated my return to this space. Even if I didn't want to blog, I needed to let my feelings out like I did when I started posting.
I've spent most of last week going to the store or sleeping on the floor because I have a slight addiction to air beds and my knee killed my last one, but life has not been boring. I finally filed my taxes (and owed money, which is so unfair). I did a phone interview that has led with me to have a Skype interview with a couple of executives in Australia this upcoming Wednesday evening (which will be Thursday morning there). I've enrolled in college classes for this Summer. I even played Monopoly on my PlayStation 3. I've also been thinking about even bigger things, like enrolling for classes for the fall semester and a possible solo business venture as well as planning for the next year, five years and ten years.
Life hasn't stopped here. Sometimes, I wish life would halt but that has yet to happen. God doesn't bless the mess. Therefore, I deal with the struggle, learn from the struggle and go from there. That is the only way I am able to keep going and keep an ounce of sanity in what seems hectic to me. That's the way I can function, because life doesn't stop. I just have to move with it.
I had to tell myself that it was okay if I missed a couple of days of not blogging. I had to train myself not to freak out if I missed a week or so. I couldn't take a blog break to save my life. Then, life got really busy and I had to begin considering hanging this blog up because I didn't have any time or any stories to tell because I was just working and sleeping. Tym's death inadvertently reinvigorated my return to this space. Even if I didn't want to blog, I needed to let my feelings out like I did when I started posting.
I've spent most of last week going to the store or sleeping on the floor because I have a slight addiction to air beds and my knee killed my last one, but life has not been boring. I finally filed my taxes (and owed money, which is so unfair). I did a phone interview that has led with me to have a Skype interview with a couple of executives in Australia this upcoming Wednesday evening (which will be Thursday morning there). I've enrolled in college classes for this Summer. I even played Monopoly on my PlayStation 3. I've also been thinking about even bigger things, like enrolling for classes for the fall semester and a possible solo business venture as well as planning for the next year, five years and ten years.
Life hasn't stopped here. Sometimes, I wish life would halt but that has yet to happen. God doesn't bless the mess. Therefore, I deal with the struggle, learn from the struggle and go from there. That is the only way I am able to keep going and keep an ounce of sanity in what seems hectic to me. That's the way I can function, because life doesn't stop. I just have to move with it.
April 12, 2015
Page 102: Still Getting There
For the past nine months, if you didn't know, I've been in a state of recovery. My husband, who I was living apart from, was killed in a road accident back in July. I've jostled with crying and being angry and spending the first week or so in a fog, trying to figure out when I should return to work and why it all sounded like the dumbest thing in the world. I thought it would be over quickly, just like I thought I got over my father's death at 21. It wasn't.
The biggest difference between my father's death and my husband's death was this: I was shielded the first time. My mom and my sister (mostly my sister) dealt with the funeral and all that good stuff. Then, life just kept coming so the grief process didn't last that long to me. Now, it feels like forever. I've dealt with the cremation, autopsy reports, what to donate to other people and science, death certificates and life insurance things as well as trying to work on things like getting back into school and trying to keep my job and medical leave. It sounds really boring but when you've never had to do it, it really drains the life out of you.
Now, I laugh more than I cry and the sun is still marvelous to look at, but I'm still not where I want to be. I saw a psychotherapist for a time after my husband's death and one of the first things I told him was that I wanted to be normal again. I'm still working towards that goal. A lot of times, I feel like I'm getting there or I'm already there. Other times, it feels like I'm in a maze I'm never going to get out of.
I keep expecting it to be like a movie, where I travel somewhere and meet quirky characters who will tell me about my husband's secret history and I either fall for someone new or leave with a renewed sense of purpose. I imagine the montage of me working hard and doing things that make me feel better and guys, it is not that at all. Instead, it's feeling depressed and sobbing for over 15 minutes while Sia's Elastic Heart played over and over (don't ask). Sometimes, it's watching a horror movie that ends ridiculously and then wanting to watch something that would give you a visceral reaction. Other times, it's being so angry that you want to grab a golf club and start bashing some windows in.
I'm not where I want to be, and I want to be there so badly. I'm going to have to let go any expectations I have of snapping my fingers and being okay in an instant. It's not easy but it's the least destructive option I have right now.
The biggest difference between my father's death and my husband's death was this: I was shielded the first time. My mom and my sister (mostly my sister) dealt with the funeral and all that good stuff. Then, life just kept coming so the grief process didn't last that long to me. Now, it feels like forever. I've dealt with the cremation, autopsy reports, what to donate to other people and science, death certificates and life insurance things as well as trying to work on things like getting back into school and trying to keep my job and medical leave. It sounds really boring but when you've never had to do it, it really drains the life out of you.
Now, I laugh more than I cry and the sun is still marvelous to look at, but I'm still not where I want to be. I saw a psychotherapist for a time after my husband's death and one of the first things I told him was that I wanted to be normal again. I'm still working towards that goal. A lot of times, I feel like I'm getting there or I'm already there. Other times, it feels like I'm in a maze I'm never going to get out of.
I keep expecting it to be like a movie, where I travel somewhere and meet quirky characters who will tell me about my husband's secret history and I either fall for someone new or leave with a renewed sense of purpose. I imagine the montage of me working hard and doing things that make me feel better and guys, it is not that at all. Instead, it's feeling depressed and sobbing for over 15 minutes while Sia's Elastic Heart played over and over (don't ask). Sometimes, it's watching a horror movie that ends ridiculously and then wanting to watch something that would give you a visceral reaction. Other times, it's being so angry that you want to grab a golf club and start bashing some windows in.
I'm not where I want to be, and I want to be there so badly. I'm going to have to let go any expectations I have of snapping my fingers and being okay in an instant. It's not easy but it's the least destructive option I have right now.
April 8, 2015
Page 98: All the Small Things
This morning, I had a very important (for me) phone call. I spent the entire time talking in the dark.
It was 10 am and my sleep had been a little fitful so I fully intended on going back to sleep after the phone call, but I didn't. It was nice dozing on and off while waiting for the phone call, though.
Lately, I've been taking really small steps that lead to really big things. I've sat with my thoughts and since I am incapable of writing down all the thoughts I have every day, I just think. There's not much else I can do. This is not new, but what is new is that I want to keep my plans very close to my chest. There is very little I'm telling my mom, and I tell her almost everything.
I think part of the reason I'm being secretive is fear. I stated in a previous post that I get nervous about blogging my plans now because I don't tend to finish it out. I'm starting to feel like a quitter and I hate that feeling. I have no problems letting something go if it feels like I'm getting nowhere or if it's too stressful and/or bad for my health, but quitting everything is just horrible.
In a letter I wrote to my sister, Tina, I said that it felt like I was returning to the real world. I don't talk about it much anymore but up until recently, it feels like I've been walking around in a fog, living in a surreal world. The fog seems to be receding, even though I know that there will be ebbs and flows of sadness and grief. I'm happy about it, though, that the fog is lifting. I feel like I can actually get stuff done without many interruptions.
It was 10 am and my sleep had been a little fitful so I fully intended on going back to sleep after the phone call, but I didn't. It was nice dozing on and off while waiting for the phone call, though.
Lately, I've been taking really small steps that lead to really big things. I've sat with my thoughts and since I am incapable of writing down all the thoughts I have every day, I just think. There's not much else I can do. This is not new, but what is new is that I want to keep my plans very close to my chest. There is very little I'm telling my mom, and I tell her almost everything.
I think part of the reason I'm being secretive is fear. I stated in a previous post that I get nervous about blogging my plans now because I don't tend to finish it out. I'm starting to feel like a quitter and I hate that feeling. I have no problems letting something go if it feels like I'm getting nowhere or if it's too stressful and/or bad for my health, but quitting everything is just horrible.
In a letter I wrote to my sister, Tina, I said that it felt like I was returning to the real world. I don't talk about it much anymore but up until recently, it feels like I've been walking around in a fog, living in a surreal world. The fog seems to be receding, even though I know that there will be ebbs and flows of sadness and grief. I'm happy about it, though, that the fog is lifting. I feel like I can actually get stuff done without many interruptions.
March 20, 2015
Page 79: Hello, 30
[caption id="attachment_18102" align="aligncenter" width="388"]
My birthday cake, chocolate with raspberry coulis and raspberries. Balanced it out with my favorite fruit.[/caption]
I thought that today was going to be hell. I was on the way to being miserable, even after all the hope I had for this day. Then, something changed.
I went to sleep after midnight and despite all the fanfare I've been working with for my birthday, I felt like a shrinking violet that was completely and utterly alone. All I wanted to do was go home, especially after finding messages that I had never gotten shortly after Tym's death. It was unexpected and a little sad but I went to sleep and then, I did not want to wake up.
My sister actually brought me out of my funk. She had spent the night at her place so she came back in the morning and with her return, I couldn't go back to sleep. She insisted on watching TV and opening the curtains and eating. I had no choice but to eat with her. Then, we watched a movie that made me laugh. Then, I got dressed and went home.
When I got home, I spent time with my mom and opened my gifts from my surrogate sister, Tina. I was laughing and happy the entire time. By the time I was done, I so happy and I declared that this was the best day ever.
I don't have any wishes for the year. If I can keep going in the halfway normal way that I am going now, I'll be fine. If things could get better, I'm all for that. I just want the joy and love that I have now. That's the best gift I could get.
My birthday cake, chocolate with raspberry coulis and raspberries. Balanced it out with my favorite fruit.[/caption]I thought that today was going to be hell. I was on the way to being miserable, even after all the hope I had for this day. Then, something changed.
I went to sleep after midnight and despite all the fanfare I've been working with for my birthday, I felt like a shrinking violet that was completely and utterly alone. All I wanted to do was go home, especially after finding messages that I had never gotten shortly after Tym's death. It was unexpected and a little sad but I went to sleep and then, I did not want to wake up.
My sister actually brought me out of my funk. She had spent the night at her place so she came back in the morning and with her return, I couldn't go back to sleep. She insisted on watching TV and opening the curtains and eating. I had no choice but to eat with her. Then, we watched a movie that made me laugh. Then, I got dressed and went home.
When I got home, I spent time with my mom and opened my gifts from my surrogate sister, Tina. I was laughing and happy the entire time. By the time I was done, I so happy and I declared that this was the best day ever.
I don't have any wishes for the year. If I can keep going in the halfway normal way that I am going now, I'll be fine. If things could get better, I'm all for that. I just want the joy and love that I have now. That's the best gift I could get.
March 19, 2015
Page 78: Farewell, 29 (1 Day)
So, the past 365 days have been a whirlwind, to say the least. While I can't say that I haven't learned anything, I can definitely say that I won't miss being 29. 29 was hard and while it could be said that I have been at my most erratic this year, I gained strength from the toughest of times. The entire life I had created (through trial and error) for myself starting from when I was 22 crashed down on me, and I'm alive to talk about it. There used to be a time when I didn't even think I could wake up the next day if I wasn't earning money or my husband wasn't by my side. Oh, how far I've come.
I have an edge to me now. It may be perceived as cold, steely, bitter or hardened. I think it's all four. I can only recall one moment when I cried tears of joy this year and that was when I got my acceptance letter from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee right before I got off of medical leave from work. The rest of my tears were of sadness or anger or just all around frustration.
I nearly ended a friendship because of a sandwich. I've all but given up on my job when I realized that I no longer felt like it was home. My room is a disaster zone of stuff. I was starting the effort of getting off of all the medications I'd been put on in the past five years when I ended up being forced to take more stuff. My insomnia's a bitch and I literally cried at 4 this afternoon because I felt alone, tired, crampy and missing Tym. Still, this is probably the happiest I've been in almost a year. That is saying a lot but I would go through everything all over again if it meant that I have grown as much I think I have. To be honest, I worried that I wouldn't grow up at all. My mom thought I was joking when I told her my growth could've gone one way or the other. I wasn't.
I sit here now, a little more than an hour away from my birthday, and I can't manage to smile because I'm tired again. However, I am looking forward to the next 365 days as well as the next 10 years. I've said that a lot but it's true. I'm ready for this to be the most fearless and happiest time of my life (before my children come, of course). I have time for that, though. As for the rest of tonight and maybe tomorrow? I'm getting some writing done.
I have an edge to me now. It may be perceived as cold, steely, bitter or hardened. I think it's all four. I can only recall one moment when I cried tears of joy this year and that was when I got my acceptance letter from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee right before I got off of medical leave from work. The rest of my tears were of sadness or anger or just all around frustration.
I nearly ended a friendship because of a sandwich. I've all but given up on my job when I realized that I no longer felt like it was home. My room is a disaster zone of stuff. I was starting the effort of getting off of all the medications I'd been put on in the past five years when I ended up being forced to take more stuff. My insomnia's a bitch and I literally cried at 4 this afternoon because I felt alone, tired, crampy and missing Tym. Still, this is probably the happiest I've been in almost a year. That is saying a lot but I would go through everything all over again if it meant that I have grown as much I think I have. To be honest, I worried that I wouldn't grow up at all. My mom thought I was joking when I told her my growth could've gone one way or the other. I wasn't.
I sit here now, a little more than an hour away from my birthday, and I can't manage to smile because I'm tired again. However, I am looking forward to the next 365 days as well as the next 10 years. I've said that a lot but it's true. I'm ready for this to be the most fearless and happiest time of my life (before my children come, of course). I have time for that, though. As for the rest of tonight and maybe tomorrow? I'm getting some writing done.
March 16, 2015
Page 76: An Honest and Fearless Life (3 Days)
A couple of days ago, I made this grand lament/declaration to my mom. I told her, as I was coming through the door from running errands, that I could've gone on some great trip while I've been on leave and I didn't. I said that I was so concerned that I would be doing the wrong thing because I am on medical leave and I shouldn't travel, so I didn't go. Her response was that it would've been wrong to go on a vacation while on medical leave but that I could go on a vacation any time I wanted because I was grown and I could afford it. She told me to plan it and go from there. So, I planned it and later decided that home would be best.
I have a running joke with my mom that I am honest more than 50 percent of the time. Lately, my honesty has ranged between 85 to 92 percent. I pride myself on being honest, especially these days. I don't worry much about how I may seem to other people. I've stopped being the person who is rude or inappropriate just to get a reaction, but I really value honesty. I really do. I don't think I appreciated it as much as I do now, but it's big for me.
I want to be as fearless as possible in my 30s. That's my goal. I'm going to succeed in that because I am learning a lot and gaining wisdom. I also have the privilege of being in good company with the friends and family I have. At times, I have no clue about living without fear, so it feels like I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Then, there are other times when I know that I've got it right. I want to strive to have that feeling all the time.
I say this a lot but change is coming. I can feel this strange itch, telling me that I need to keep doing the things I like and stop doing the things I don't like. I am going to have to make some tough decisions and be okay with it because that's the best I can do, but I know it is not going to be easy. I'm not that afraid, though. I can do it.
I have a running joke with my mom that I am honest more than 50 percent of the time. Lately, my honesty has ranged between 85 to 92 percent. I pride myself on being honest, especially these days. I don't worry much about how I may seem to other people. I've stopped being the person who is rude or inappropriate just to get a reaction, but I really value honesty. I really do. I don't think I appreciated it as much as I do now, but it's big for me.
I want to be as fearless as possible in my 30s. That's my goal. I'm going to succeed in that because I am learning a lot and gaining wisdom. I also have the privilege of being in good company with the friends and family I have. At times, I have no clue about living without fear, so it feels like I'm flying by the seat of my pants. Then, there are other times when I know that I've got it right. I want to strive to have that feeling all the time.
I say this a lot but change is coming. I can feel this strange itch, telling me that I need to keep doing the things I like and stop doing the things I don't like. I am going to have to make some tough decisions and be okay with it because that's the best I can do, but I know it is not going to be easy. I'm not that afraid, though. I can do it.
March 14, 2015
Page 73: Dreams (6 Days)
My sister's 34th birthday was today and we hung out for the first time in forever. It was short but really awesome. We don't spend much time together now that we're getting older and life is propelling us forward, but we had a really nice day.
Now that it's almost midnight, the last birthday of the year in my family (now) is mine. That means in 6 days, I will be 30 and I'll be entering a new decade of my life.
I had stated that I didn't want the final days of 29 to be sad or joyless and it hasn't been. I've done a lot of laughing, dancing, having fun and planning my future in the most minuscule of ways. The weather has been beautiful and I've been interacting with people. Madonna has pleasantly surprised me. I've been reading an old friend's new book and I'm thinking ahead to my beautiful future. I feel like great things are on the horizon.
Time is a beast. It either goes really fast or really slow. It leaves bruises or the best memories. In my nearly 30 years, I have my fair share of both, although the bruises have mostly come in the past 10 years. This upcoming birthday has me excited, but also nervous. I can't take many more time bruises but I could go for a whole lot of dreaming and adventure. I could go for more love than I can take. I could go for a baby or two. Best of all, I could go for some more faith and wisdom.
Now that it's almost midnight, the last birthday of the year in my family (now) is mine. That means in 6 days, I will be 30 and I'll be entering a new decade of my life.
I had stated that I didn't want the final days of 29 to be sad or joyless and it hasn't been. I've done a lot of laughing, dancing, having fun and planning my future in the most minuscule of ways. The weather has been beautiful and I've been interacting with people. Madonna has pleasantly surprised me. I've been reading an old friend's new book and I'm thinking ahead to my beautiful future. I feel like great things are on the horizon.
Time is a beast. It either goes really fast or really slow. It leaves bruises or the best memories. In my nearly 30 years, I have my fair share of both, although the bruises have mostly come in the past 10 years. This upcoming birthday has me excited, but also nervous. I can't take many more time bruises but I could go for a whole lot of dreaming and adventure. I could go for more love than I can take. I could go for a baby or two. Best of all, I could go for some more faith and wisdom.
March 9, 2015
Page 68: Ray of Light (11 Days)
I want to be happy for the last days of 29. So far, I'm doing okay. The weekend was really nice and full of binge-watching Netflix as well as laughter and eating. I also wrote some letters to a couple of my friends because I haven't done that in a very long time.
There are times when I feel like I'm 29 going on 50 but for the most part, I feel optimistic about turning 30. I don't think I'm ready at all for it, though. I think I've gone backwards while trying to propel myself forward and both things have made me a bit dizzy, so I'm staying put. Maybe I need to stay put for some time. I've gone through some really big things in the past seven months and I pushed myself during three of them after it happened.
I've gotten better at letting things go while holding on to the things that matter the most. A year ago, I was nonchalant about everything except my job. My job was my life and all that came with it. Last year, I began building my work wardrobe and concentrating on making the most money and earning the best paychecks. When I was at home, I was sleeping or antsy or shopping. I felt invincible. I don't feel like that much anymore, but I figure that I can make it if I can survive the day without raging out or crying.
I still smile, which is a great thing. I've become more comfortable at home and feel my inner domestic diva perk up every time I go in to the kitchen. I've tried to do more self-care and mom-care for my mom. I also have fallen down the rabbit hole of British beauty bloggers (say that three times fast) and funny things, which deters me from the dark. I would say that I've made some progress from last month (but the inner domestic diva would be a bit happier if I would go ahead and deal with my oven problem).
These things give me a glimmer of hope and I really like feeling hopeful because it's one of the best things in the world. I'm alive. I'm almost 30 and it's time to recover my happy.
There are times when I feel like I'm 29 going on 50 but for the most part, I feel optimistic about turning 30. I don't think I'm ready at all for it, though. I think I've gone backwards while trying to propel myself forward and both things have made me a bit dizzy, so I'm staying put. Maybe I need to stay put for some time. I've gone through some really big things in the past seven months and I pushed myself during three of them after it happened.
I've gotten better at letting things go while holding on to the things that matter the most. A year ago, I was nonchalant about everything except my job. My job was my life and all that came with it. Last year, I began building my work wardrobe and concentrating on making the most money and earning the best paychecks. When I was at home, I was sleeping or antsy or shopping. I felt invincible. I don't feel like that much anymore, but I figure that I can make it if I can survive the day without raging out or crying.
I still smile, which is a great thing. I've become more comfortable at home and feel my inner domestic diva perk up every time I go in to the kitchen. I've tried to do more self-care and mom-care for my mom. I also have fallen down the rabbit hole of British beauty bloggers (say that three times fast) and funny things, which deters me from the dark. I would say that I've made some progress from last month (but the inner domestic diva would be a bit happier if I would go ahead and deal with my oven problem).
These things give me a glimmer of hope and I really like feeling hopeful because it's one of the best things in the world. I'm alive. I'm almost 30 and it's time to recover my happy.
March 1, 2015
Page 60: Honestly... (19 Days)
There are not many things I hold close to my chest. Pretty much all of my cards are on the table, even though I'm not a big conversationalist most of the time. I even tell my mom that I'm honest about 85% of the time. Life's too short to keep everything shut away at times.
Talking about Tym here and to most people make me feel uncomfortable. I normally talk to my mom (a fellow widow) or my sister about him, but it's mostly my mom. When I was going through the financial stuff directly after Tym's death, I felt like my marriage was put under a microscope. I was put under a microscope and I managed to wow everyone I met.
I am no longer a shrinking violet who hates confrontation. I don't enjoy confrontation but I am willing to do it if it means that if I am right and the truth needs to be told. I handle myself with the kind of strength, power and decorum that my mother has and my grandmothers had. I still got scarred though. So, I am conscious about talking about it.
I did have this wish, though. I didn't know I had it until today. I wanted to spend my 30th birthday with Tym. I wanted to go to a lovely hotel and have a nice dinner. I wanted to tell him how I was doing and listen to how he was doing. I wanted to show him my hot VS bra because yes, we were still very much involved. We just lived apart. I wanted to celebrate with all of my family, Tym included. I won't get that wish and I'm a little bummed about it. I really wanted someone to see that bra and it's not right to just show anyone.
I turn 30 in 19 days, and I am prepared for it. I'm looking forward to it. I want to do something fun and get some awesome gifts (or cards, because I'm not picky). I want to do something I've never done before. I don't know what that is yet.
I wish I could say that I think I'm getting better, but the sadness comes and goes. I don't know how this is supposed to end, but I do hope I end up on the good side of it. I could use some happiness, and cookies.
Talking about Tym here and to most people make me feel uncomfortable. I normally talk to my mom (a fellow widow) or my sister about him, but it's mostly my mom. When I was going through the financial stuff directly after Tym's death, I felt like my marriage was put under a microscope. I was put under a microscope and I managed to wow everyone I met.
I am no longer a shrinking violet who hates confrontation. I don't enjoy confrontation but I am willing to do it if it means that if I am right and the truth needs to be told. I handle myself with the kind of strength, power and decorum that my mother has and my grandmothers had. I still got scarred though. So, I am conscious about talking about it.
I did have this wish, though. I didn't know I had it until today. I wanted to spend my 30th birthday with Tym. I wanted to go to a lovely hotel and have a nice dinner. I wanted to tell him how I was doing and listen to how he was doing. I wanted to show him my hot VS bra because yes, we were still very much involved. We just lived apart. I wanted to celebrate with all of my family, Tym included. I won't get that wish and I'm a little bummed about it. I really wanted someone to see that bra and it's not right to just show anyone.
I turn 30 in 19 days, and I am prepared for it. I'm looking forward to it. I want to do something fun and get some awesome gifts (or cards, because I'm not picky). I want to do something I've never done before. I don't know what that is yet.
I wish I could say that I think I'm getting better, but the sadness comes and goes. I don't know how this is supposed to end, but I do hope I end up on the good side of it. I could use some happiness, and cookies.
February 28, 2015
Page 59: Are You Five Years Ago? (20 Days)
Tomorrow, I will have lived at home with my mother for five years.
I was 24 years old and months past my husband, Tym, having left to stay with his parents in Ripon. He'd stayed with me for a couple of weeks in February but was planning to go to Las Vegas once I moved into the new place. He packed up my stuff and carried it down to the U-Haul truck, which he also drove. On the day that I moved, he took my stuff and some of my mom's stuff and we unloaded in the place that I live in today. He then took me to Wal-Mart so I could pick up some cleaning supplies. The apartment was pretty much in shambles, but he left anyway. I cried.
We never lived together again.
I made strides while I've been at home. I dedicated myself to school, made friends in person and via the internet. I was able to sign up for extracurricular activities and do well in them. I got my first desk and went to my first formal party. I spent nights at a hotel with Tym. I made strides, but it wasn't easy. I was angry that Tym left. I was angry that he had given up on us, and I couldn't contain it. I would scream at him over the phone while crying at the same time. I had panic attacks almost every night. I was diagnosed with anxiety 11 days after my 25th birthday. I sent poison pens to a girl who had put a huge tear in our marriage. I was so sad and I felt lonely. Leaving the house and doing things made it a bit better. After years of school and work-study jobs and unemployment and full-time jobs, being broke and having money; I felt like I had truly reached a balance and grown up.
Then, my life was derailed by Tym's death.
I'm mostly numb to it, but I've cried. I've called his phone multiple times in the past seven months. I've been angry. I can't stand being at work and I couldn't keep my concentration up enough to stay in school. I sleep multiple times a day and I've gone back to having panic attacks. I feel like everything I had fought to get over starting in 2010 have collapsed and I'm right back at that place I was 5 years ago. It's the worst feeling in the world.
My mother tells me that I had already begun the cycle of grief when Tym had left, but it's not as easy as that. I used to be able to call him at the least and rip him a new one when I was upset. We would make plans to see each other, even if it made us unhappy. I don't have that now and it's hard to deal sometimes. What's easy is to regress to the same patterns I employed when I was 25 and feeling like I had lost, before going to see any psychotherapists and taking any medications.
I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here. Nothing feels right. Nothing fits anymore. I've crawled around, trying to pick up the pieces of what is broken. The pieces are too small, though. I can't piece them together anymore. Ironically, that metaphor reminds me of an ornament and cake plate I had gotten in 2011. My dry erase board fell from the wall and knocked both items to the floor. My gorgeous clear ornament with gold trim and gold hearts filling it shattered and I couldn't fix it. My cake plate split at the stem and even though I tried my hardest to super-glue it back together, it wasn't the same.
That's how I feel. If I'm not particularly shattered, I'm definitely broken somewhere and it doesn't fit quite right anymore. I'm not the same. I never will be.
I was 24 years old and months past my husband, Tym, having left to stay with his parents in Ripon. He'd stayed with me for a couple of weeks in February but was planning to go to Las Vegas once I moved into the new place. He packed up my stuff and carried it down to the U-Haul truck, which he also drove. On the day that I moved, he took my stuff and some of my mom's stuff and we unloaded in the place that I live in today. He then took me to Wal-Mart so I could pick up some cleaning supplies. The apartment was pretty much in shambles, but he left anyway. I cried.
We never lived together again.
I made strides while I've been at home. I dedicated myself to school, made friends in person and via the internet. I was able to sign up for extracurricular activities and do well in them. I got my first desk and went to my first formal party. I spent nights at a hotel with Tym. I made strides, but it wasn't easy. I was angry that Tym left. I was angry that he had given up on us, and I couldn't contain it. I would scream at him over the phone while crying at the same time. I had panic attacks almost every night. I was diagnosed with anxiety 11 days after my 25th birthday. I sent poison pens to a girl who had put a huge tear in our marriage. I was so sad and I felt lonely. Leaving the house and doing things made it a bit better. After years of school and work-study jobs and unemployment and full-time jobs, being broke and having money; I felt like I had truly reached a balance and grown up.
Then, my life was derailed by Tym's death.
I'm mostly numb to it, but I've cried. I've called his phone multiple times in the past seven months. I've been angry. I can't stand being at work and I couldn't keep my concentration up enough to stay in school. I sleep multiple times a day and I've gone back to having panic attacks. I feel like everything I had fought to get over starting in 2010 have collapsed and I'm right back at that place I was 5 years ago. It's the worst feeling in the world.
My mother tells me that I had already begun the cycle of grief when Tym had left, but it's not as easy as that. I used to be able to call him at the least and rip him a new one when I was upset. We would make plans to see each other, even if it made us unhappy. I don't have that now and it's hard to deal sometimes. What's easy is to regress to the same patterns I employed when I was 25 and feeling like I had lost, before going to see any psychotherapists and taking any medications.
I don't know where I'm supposed to go from here. Nothing feels right. Nothing fits anymore. I've crawled around, trying to pick up the pieces of what is broken. The pieces are too small, though. I can't piece them together anymore. Ironically, that metaphor reminds me of an ornament and cake plate I had gotten in 2011. My dry erase board fell from the wall and knocked both items to the floor. My gorgeous clear ornament with gold trim and gold hearts filling it shattered and I couldn't fix it. My cake plate split at the stem and even though I tried my hardest to super-glue it back together, it wasn't the same.
That's how I feel. If I'm not particularly shattered, I'm definitely broken somewhere and it doesn't fit quite right anymore. I'm not the same. I never will be.
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