It's 6 AM and New Year's Eve and if you asked me to tell you how I was feeling right now - I know I wouldn't be able to. I never thought that I would ever be surrounded with so much love in my life and still feel so uncertain about everything to the point where it was harder to sleep at night.
I keep wondering if it's worth me getting upset over this. Wasn't it a loss in the first place? What if you woke up and the thing you thought you had always lost... might not be lost after all? Does that mean that even if you go through all the effort of searching for it - that if it goes lost again...everything is back where it was? And I remain the same?
Somehow, no matter how many times I might try to tell myself that you can't feel loss over something already lost...that I inevitably will. Because initially, isn't it always 'hope' that we feel anyway? 'Hope' that we could find that missing piece to our puzzle...and then when the hope disappears, it isn't necessarily the actual piece that we're missing. I think I'd start to miss the feeling of hope that it was ever there in the first place.
I am a step away from possibly knowing everything...or maybe even having more questions than I know what to do with. How do you differentiate between the questions of a 6-year old and the logical questions of a 23-year old? You can't, I guess. There is probably little difference of importance in my mind between: "Whose nose do I have?" and "Were you economically in hardship when you made that decision 23 years ago?"
Who knows what is going to happen on Friday. I am not even sure if I have an idealistic pan out of how I would want it to go because it hasn't crossed my mind.
But one thing is for sure...please don't ask me how...I have missed you.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A Day To Remember (or perhaps to forget)
There are four pages of a scribbled letter tucked inside my black and white marbled notebook. It was the beginnings of a future blog post for this blog - my annual letter to my birthmother - telling her the struggles and triumphs of my 23rd year of being alive.
For the past week and a half, I, for some reason, kept holding off actually sitting down and typing it out here, not because it was too personal or too gritty...honestly, if you had asked me why I wouldn't have been able to give you a straight answer. Maybe it was because I have been so consumed with the move from Dundalk. (Yes, I have finally LEFT Dumb-dalk for good...and will post pictures of the barren room once I find my camera in one of these boxes that are looming in my room.) Whatever the reason, it just never got done.
And maybe it was a sign that I was meant to read it to her in person...
I don't really know where to begin with the rest of this post. I was trying to think of some clever epithet that might transition into the whole point of the post - but at this point, my brain is too fried with an excess abundance of emotion and utter cluster-fuckery (I just made that word up.) to even be witty or even give a hoot whether I am witty or not.
December 23, 2008 @ around 1 AM will be forever seared in my brain. If and when I have children, and I reflect on this tale to fill bedtime story nights, I will probably still struggle to piece together just exactly what got seared into my brain: a cautionary tale or a Christmas miracle. It is too early yet to decide.
But whatever it will be - what it is right now, at the present, is the exact time that I was trying to get rid of a nasty migraine by sleeping it away... and my 2nd night sleeping on the mattress that is in what will eventually be my bedroom in my Aunt's house. It seems ordinary and simple enough, and started out as any other night ...except that 1 AM will also forever be seared into my brain as the time my mother came into my bedroom to wake me up with the news.
The news that my birthparents have been searching for me and want to meet me.
It is now 11:02 pm of the very same day and I think I must have written the above sentence or said variations of it to myself at least a hundred thousand times. And yet even with saying it a hundred thousand more, I do not think that the sentence's true meaning will ever fully sink itself into my brain and channel signals of acknowledgement to my being.
Even now, there is still detachment from that sentence - as if tomorrow that whole sequence: me sleeping, my mom rushing into my bedroom in her jacket, shaking me awake, her eyes lighting up, and me sleepily opening my eyes to watch her lips move to form the words of that very same sentence....that whole sequence will be nothing but a dream. An afterthought to another dream that I had had.
But a part of me knows that it wasn't. That it was real. But I am not ready to believe that part. All day long I have been trying to figure out how to sum up how I feel and I just can't...it is hard to explain how in one moment - everything has changed with nothing happening. How just words could change my entire world and turn it upside down with no action following.
I am, Blog, scared shitless. Today I have felt happy, annoyed, joyous, angry, resentful, sadness, fear and frustration in succession of each other and even at times, simultaneously.
I have so much to say and yet have no words to say it with.
I have so many questions and yet am not quite sure I want to know the answers.
I want...and yet wish it was easier just to walk away...at the exact same time.
And despite all these crazy feelings - the one thing I keep dwelling on is the revelation that they searched for me.
For the past week and a half, I, for some reason, kept holding off actually sitting down and typing it out here, not because it was too personal or too gritty...honestly, if you had asked me why I wouldn't have been able to give you a straight answer. Maybe it was because I have been so consumed with the move from Dundalk. (Yes, I have finally LEFT Dumb-dalk for good...and will post pictures of the barren room once I find my camera in one of these boxes that are looming in my room.) Whatever the reason, it just never got done.
And maybe it was a sign that I was meant to read it to her in person...
I don't really know where to begin with the rest of this post. I was trying to think of some clever epithet that might transition into the whole point of the post - but at this point, my brain is too fried with an excess abundance of emotion and utter cluster-fuckery (I just made that word up.) to even be witty or even give a hoot whether I am witty or not.
December 23, 2008 @ around 1 AM will be forever seared in my brain. If and when I have children, and I reflect on this tale to fill bedtime story nights, I will probably still struggle to piece together just exactly what got seared into my brain: a cautionary tale or a Christmas miracle. It is too early yet to decide.
But whatever it will be - what it is right now, at the present, is the exact time that I was trying to get rid of a nasty migraine by sleeping it away... and my 2nd night sleeping on the mattress that is in what will eventually be my bedroom in my Aunt's house. It seems ordinary and simple enough, and started out as any other night ...except that 1 AM will also forever be seared into my brain as the time my mother came into my bedroom to wake me up with the news.
The news that my birthparents have been searching for me and want to meet me.
It is now 11:02 pm of the very same day and I think I must have written the above sentence or said variations of it to myself at least a hundred thousand times. And yet even with saying it a hundred thousand more, I do not think that the sentence's true meaning will ever fully sink itself into my brain and channel signals of acknowledgement to my being.
Even now, there is still detachment from that sentence - as if tomorrow that whole sequence: me sleeping, my mom rushing into my bedroom in her jacket, shaking me awake, her eyes lighting up, and me sleepily opening my eyes to watch her lips move to form the words of that very same sentence....that whole sequence will be nothing but a dream. An afterthought to another dream that I had had.
But a part of me knows that it wasn't. That it was real. But I am not ready to believe that part. All day long I have been trying to figure out how to sum up how I feel and I just can't...it is hard to explain how in one moment - everything has changed with nothing happening. How just words could change my entire world and turn it upside down with no action following.
I am, Blog, scared shitless. Today I have felt happy, annoyed, joyous, angry, resentful, sadness, fear and frustration in succession of each other and even at times, simultaneously.
I have so much to say and yet have no words to say it with.
I have so many questions and yet am not quite sure I want to know the answers.
I want...and yet wish it was easier just to walk away...at the exact same time.
And despite all these crazy feelings - the one thing I keep dwelling on is the revelation that they searched for me.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
She'll never admit that she's wrong.
Tonight, while wallowing in my self-pity that I have begun to think of as an art form in the past two months, I finally had the last straw. I keep saying that every single bad or shitty thing that has happened to me in the past two months is the last straw - but this one, well, this one was the very very very very last straw.
Financially I am just way in over my head. Where I thought I was ahead, I am now significantly behind all due to an unfortunate mishap with the scheduling of my payment with the auto insurance company (As Chris Rock would say... my "in-case-shit-happens" policy).
For God knows how long, my mother has been OCD about lists. And before you try to read that sentence again, don't. It's not worth wasting your time. You read it right: lists. She loves lists. No, no, let me scratch that. She ADORES and IDOLIZES and maybe if one day a magical wizard turned a List into a man she would probably marry that List and run away and adopt babies to supplement his lack of love for her.
It's become this sickening obsession for her and when I was younger, I used to think that it meant she was organized and that I, by being one who did not keep a list, was severely unorganized. However, twenty-three years of living as a terminally SANE human being and a few years of puberty and a month of homelessness has helped lead me to the conclusion that the lists do not help her at all. In fact, I have come to the clear diagnosis that the list itself is a manifestation of her insecurities and her lack of being able to control and handle even the smallest minute detail of her life. So to make up for the discrepency of say........not being able to function like a normal human being like the rest of the world, my mother writes a list. Every day.
AND THEN PROMPTLY LOSES IT AND SPENDS THE REST OF HER DAY SEARCHING FOR THE LIST BECAUSE WITHOUT IT, GOD FORBID SHE BE ABLE TO FUNCTION.
Now in her defense, this does not happen every day. The great event of "losing-the-list" is one that happens often, but not every single day. But she does write one.
So of course, when I first lost my job and realized I was going to be way in over my head if I didn't find a job to supplement my income fast, you could guess what advice my mother had for me.
Mom: "Hi dear. How are you?"
Me: "Lousy. I just lost my job... I have bills to pay this month... I just filed for unemployment but I am not going to hear from them for another two weeks or so and shit is already starting to become due. I don't know what I am going to do."
Mom: "I know what you need to do. It'll solve all your problems." (said very matter of factly)
Me: "Do you know of anyone who might have a job opening? Or do you know anyone I can send my resume to?"
Mom: "No, of course not. You'll have to find that on your own. I am talking about writing a list. A list dear. A list of all your debt. Once you see it all laid out on paper, it'll all become clear."
Me: "Mom, do you realize you're asking me to slit my wrists?"
Mom: "What was that?"
Me: "Nothing. I am not going to write a list. Not now, not ever."
But tonight, Jesus, maybe the stress got to me, but for whatever reason - she was standing over me in the kitchen and I am sitting there with tears starting to form behind my eyes and she kept talking about this damned list writing --- so I did it. I wrote a damn list.
-=Me writing numbers and scribbling calculations on a page then handing it to her=-
"There, Mom. There it is. In black and white. What do you have to say? What happens now? What does the list do now?"
-=My mother stares blankly at the page. Blinks again and takes on an empty look.=-
Mom: "Wow. Didn't know it was this bad. Don't know what to tell you. But don't you feel better now that you wrote it all down?"
Just in case people would like the Cliff Notes version of this story: NO, I DID NOT FEEL ANY STINKIN' BETTER!! I felt crappier actually because I now had numbers and figures that are higher than the year I was born staring me in the face. So much for lists.
Financially I am just way in over my head. Where I thought I was ahead, I am now significantly behind all due to an unfortunate mishap with the scheduling of my payment with the auto insurance company (As Chris Rock would say... my "in-case-shit-happens" policy).
For God knows how long, my mother has been OCD about lists. And before you try to read that sentence again, don't. It's not worth wasting your time. You read it right: lists. She loves lists. No, no, let me scratch that. She ADORES and IDOLIZES and maybe if one day a magical wizard turned a List into a man she would probably marry that List and run away and adopt babies to supplement his lack of love for her.
It's become this sickening obsession for her and when I was younger, I used to think that it meant she was organized and that I, by being one who did not keep a list, was severely unorganized. However, twenty-three years of living as a terminally SANE human being and a few years of puberty and a month of homelessness has helped lead me to the conclusion that the lists do not help her at all. In fact, I have come to the clear diagnosis that the list itself is a manifestation of her insecurities and her lack of being able to control and handle even the smallest minute detail of her life. So to make up for the discrepency of say........not being able to function like a normal human being like the rest of the world, my mother writes a list. Every day.
AND THEN PROMPTLY LOSES IT AND SPENDS THE REST OF HER DAY SEARCHING FOR THE LIST BECAUSE WITHOUT IT, GOD FORBID SHE BE ABLE TO FUNCTION.
Now in her defense, this does not happen every day. The great event of "losing-the-list" is one that happens often, but not every single day. But she does write one.
So of course, when I first lost my job and realized I was going to be way in over my head if I didn't find a job to supplement my income fast, you could guess what advice my mother had for me.
Mom: "Hi dear. How are you?"
Me: "Lousy. I just lost my job... I have bills to pay this month... I just filed for unemployment but I am not going to hear from them for another two weeks or so and shit is already starting to become due. I don't know what I am going to do."
Mom: "I know what you need to do. It'll solve all your problems." (said very matter of factly)
Me: "Do you know of anyone who might have a job opening? Or do you know anyone I can send my resume to?"
Mom: "No, of course not. You'll have to find that on your own. I am talking about writing a list. A list dear. A list of all your debt. Once you see it all laid out on paper, it'll all become clear."
Me: "Mom, do you realize you're asking me to slit my wrists?"
Mom: "What was that?"
Me: "Nothing. I am not going to write a list. Not now, not ever."
But tonight, Jesus, maybe the stress got to me, but for whatever reason - she was standing over me in the kitchen and I am sitting there with tears starting to form behind my eyes and she kept talking about this damned list writing --- so I did it. I wrote a damn list.
-=Me writing numbers and scribbling calculations on a page then handing it to her=-
"There, Mom. There it is. In black and white. What do you have to say? What happens now? What does the list do now?"
-=My mother stares blankly at the page. Blinks again and takes on an empty look.=-
Mom: "Wow. Didn't know it was this bad. Don't know what to tell you. But don't you feel better now that you wrote it all down?"
Just in case people would like the Cliff Notes version of this story: NO, I DID NOT FEEL ANY STINKIN' BETTER!! I felt crappier actually because I now had numbers and figures that are higher than the year I was born staring me in the face. So much for lists.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
What I imagine the sound of my heart pounding in a bed of silence looks like...
This is about the time that my heart exploded in my chest, and then I realized that the fast breeze blowing through the strands of my hair was actually the air being broken by my airbourne vehicle:
This is probably what the police report and insurance claim reads because this was all I could manage to muster five hours after the accident:
"4:12 am. Was leaving DC and following the direction of my GPS system, took the tunnel leading towards the 295 SE/SW entrance but went into the wrong tunnel heading towards RFK lot. Entered into complete and utter darkness with no lights, no signs. Tried to adjust to the darkeness and just when I realized the pavement swurved to the left, I tried to turn left but had already hit the tree with my right side and turned upside down, did a 360 degree turn in the air befofe flipping back over and doing a 80 degree swurve to a stop."
The only reason how I know exactly what direction my car flipped, okay, there are two:
1. The fact that as my car impacted on the tree I felt my entire insides lift up from my stomach to my lungs, compressing together like a Slinky being turned upside down. What I didn't fully realize immediately? That I was upside down. And I caught a millisecond glimpse out the cracked glass of the passenger window enough to see the pavement at eye level, and the tunnel glowing through the darkness at me. That's when I closed my eyes to prepare for nothing, something and everything - all at the same time.
2. My Guardian Angel: In the form of a 6"5-6"7 thin-framed man in a red Honda hatch. An image that will stick with me for the rest of my life as a reminder that the smallest instantaneous moments can quite possibly bring you the most purest form of joy that you'll ever feel in a lifetime.
Hours before I would see the "light of life" and my car was left demolished, I had spent the entire day just trudging through work. It was just another day among the many where I kept wandering the maze of cubicles wondering why I still, without fail, park in the same spot, walk through the same building and sit in front of the same screen every single day and endure the bezerk behavior of certain people who have made it a career in having no basic social skills.
By the time 5 o'clock chimed in, I was ready to leave the smothering feel of work and escape to a place I knew I could just let go: in the presence of friends, dancing and just releasing all that anger and stress out.
Several hours later, Christauff and I were doing our regular Friday night ritual of walking each other to our cars safely. We had the miracle of parking on the same street as each other (a rarity to anyone who has ever tried to park to go to a club in DC) and I got into my car and watched as he walked across the street to his. I went to program my GPS to head home, and started to pull out of my spot.
There were a lot of little miracles that night. Little bits of instances that in retrospect, I will be grateful for, for the rest of my life. The fact that I had decided to go to Ultrabar where seven people I knew were going to be there, the fact that Christauff and I always walked to our cars together after the night was through, the fact that Christauff forgot that I had a GPS in my car and had seen me headed in a different direction than he thought would be the regular way for me to get home and just figured I was lost, the fact that he then, as a great friend with concern, decided to follow behind me to make sure I was headed in the right direction - and that he kept following me until he was 3/4 mile away in his car as he watched my car propel itself through the air.
I even feel blessed that I had had such a crummy week prior. I had pictures of my brother's bedsores running around in my head, constant thoughts of my brother's legs being amputated, depressed over my job and my inability to deal with overt micromanagement, frustrated with the outcome of my future - where was I headed with my life? how was I going to get there?, hurt from the loss of a friend and caught in a whirlwind of complete and utter confusion with life in general.
But in that millisecond glimpse of the world upside down, and in the next instant when I closed my eyes and prepared for what I feared to be the end, I found myself shaking away that fear, gripping the steering wheel with both hands tightly, keeping my eyes shut tight as my heart pounded in my throat, my ears, the pit of my stomach - I just let go of every single stress and hurt that I had been consumed with before - and relaxed my body and just breathed.
When I opened my eyes, glass was everywhere, and my hands were bleeding and so was a small patch on my chest where the airbag had hit. Smoke was all around me, and I turned my head ever so slightly to try and make sense of what my eyes were seeing through the cracked and broken glass window of my driver's door: Christauff, his red Honda hatch, and him running from his car, across the pavement, to open my car door.
I walked out of the accident truly unscathed. No broken bones, no massive amounts of blood. As I lay in the guestroom of Christauff's and his girlfriend's condo that morning, I kept counting the solid breaths of air that I sucked into my lungs.
"Someone wants you around, Em," Christauff had kept saying as we drove to his condo.
This is my second chance at life. This is my chance to keep living it without regret and to realize the true value of what I have surrounding me. I was given a second chance at this journey and I am not going to waste it worrying about things that I cannot change.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Meet me at the crossroads (Echo & Fade: crossroads...crossroads)
There is no better way to explain how I feel at this precise moment than to tell you that I am at a definite and indefinite crossroads.
For the most part 2008 has become synonymous with the word "change" for me. A transition of sorts that keeps spiraling me further and further into a point where I realize - I just need to let go. There comes a point in a person's life when you just cannot have control over any thing.
I got offered a position as an M.A. for a doctor's office close-by. I had gotten a call sometime last week from my old Biology teacher who had recommended me for the position. Believe me, I was excited - but at the same time, I am really frightened. And I don't know why.
I always keep telling myself that I need a change - and yet, when one comes, I shy away. In all things. I am such a weirdo like that.
The doctor's office would train me. I don't have to know a damned thing. I was scared they wouldn't want to hire me, partially because I am so young in my educational career - with only a few science credits under my belt, and no challenging lab experiences - let alone real-time patient interaction.
But now they want to offer me the job. And I'm scared. Why? Why am I so frightened of something that would really be beneficial for me in the long run?
Well, for one thing, I'd be making significantly less. But the hours are flexible and all over the place. That has its good and bad points. Good: I'd be able to space my classes farther apart, and attend more classes and be able to have more study time (because I am currently WAY behind in my Spanish Web class. I don't know how I am going to catch up, EVER. But I have to get an A!). Bad: I probably wouldn't have consistent times off. Not that that is really bad- it's just something to think about.
Also, with such a cut in pay, I would have to take on a second job. Most likely a retail one - because no corporate job (unless I worked as a secretary or something) would be able to let me work part time with some goofy-ass hours.
This is what I want- isn't it? This is the start of my new chapter/phase in my life, right? A start towards my future, and what I've been working my ass off for the past couple of months for.
So why do I feel like such a chicken shit ready to piss my pants?
For the most part 2008 has become synonymous with the word "change" for me. A transition of sorts that keeps spiraling me further and further into a point where I realize - I just need to let go. There comes a point in a person's life when you just cannot have control over any thing.
I got offered a position as an M.A. for a doctor's office close-by. I had gotten a call sometime last week from my old Biology teacher who had recommended me for the position. Believe me, I was excited - but at the same time, I am really frightened. And I don't know why.
I always keep telling myself that I need a change - and yet, when one comes, I shy away. In all things. I am such a weirdo like that.
The doctor's office would train me. I don't have to know a damned thing. I was scared they wouldn't want to hire me, partially because I am so young in my educational career - with only a few science credits under my belt, and no challenging lab experiences - let alone real-time patient interaction.
But now they want to offer me the job. And I'm scared. Why? Why am I so frightened of something that would really be beneficial for me in the long run?
Well, for one thing, I'd be making significantly less. But the hours are flexible and all over the place. That has its good and bad points. Good: I'd be able to space my classes farther apart, and attend more classes and be able to have more study time (because I am currently WAY behind in my Spanish Web class. I don't know how I am going to catch up, EVER. But I have to get an A!). Bad: I probably wouldn't have consistent times off. Not that that is really bad- it's just something to think about.
Also, with such a cut in pay, I would have to take on a second job. Most likely a retail one - because no corporate job (unless I worked as a secretary or something) would be able to let me work part time with some goofy-ass hours.
This is what I want- isn't it? This is the start of my new chapter/phase in my life, right? A start towards my future, and what I've been working my ass off for the past couple of months for.
So why do I feel like such a chicken shit ready to piss my pants?
Friday, February 1, 2008
I'd like to thank the Pre-Med student who came up with the "red-eye" coffee...
I know, I know... I first off want to go ahead and apologize for not being as diligent with this blog as I used to be, or how I'd like to be - this being partly because A. I am slightly lazy whenever I am home and B. I am rarely ever home after doing school/work/homework/workout/craziness and when I am home, I'd like some peace and quiet, plop myself in front of the television and have guilt-free junk food snacking for hours on end. If I start to feel guilty about the horrible things I am shoving into my digestive system and by digestive system I mean my clogged arteries, I do Sudoku puzzles in order to fulfill what I think of as "brain enhancement exercises".
Life has been incredibly on-going in the past few weeks. I can't collectively say that I've been "stressed", possibly because all of it has been "good" stress, whatever the hell that is. I think that just means that even though you're pressured to do 9,999,999 million things in a millisecond and you're perspiring hotter than a 500 T man, well...at the end of the day, you wouldn't have it any other way.
And right now, that's exactly where I am. Save for a few things here and there. Between work and school, I have little room for anything else, but I am super driven. And I love that that part of me has kicked in again. I always felt like I was able to accomplish a hell of a lot more as a high schooler because I was so completely driven by my future, but then I hit a few bumps in the road (Okay, who am I kidding? What I hit were more like gargantuan super-glaciers that had huge pointy icicles hanging off of them, all ironically aimed at me and artfully poised and ready for my demise.) and life began really really sucking.
I don't know what happened to tell you the truth. To this day, when I look back and I think about how I was, my thought process was, and then all the events that have happened between then and now, I have no particular one thing that I can look back at with a stern pointed finger and go: "AH HA! You ARE the WEAKEST LINK!" Because I think in the end, it all played a part, and it all made a difference in the successes and short-comings that have led me to the place that I am now.
But in the past few weeks, what with the new promotion at work (which I never saw coming) and school starting, my focus has been completely and utterly intent on actually succeeding in all the goals I was afraid of before (for whatever reasons). Does that mean I am not still afraid? Hell fucking no. I am readily prepared with plenty of adult diapers for the numerous times I feel the urgent need to pee myself out of sheer fear of all the choices, decisions and life paths I have to make. But what has changed is that I feel I am better equipped to just dry myself off, put on another adult diaper, and keep on trucking. I don't think I'll ever stop being scared shitless or be able to say I don't feel crappy every once in awhile, I am just better prepared for the aftermath that comes with it.
I am really getting down the nitty gritty this year. I'm not just trying to bullshit my way out of this one - I know my ass better work hard to get to where I need to go to be where I want to be. And I figure there have been so many amazing people that I have met in my (short) lifetime thus far that have seemed to have the confidence in me that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to, so it's about damned time I have confidence in myself.
Life has been incredibly on-going in the past few weeks. I can't collectively say that I've been "stressed", possibly because all of it has been "good" stress, whatever the hell that is. I think that just means that even though you're pressured to do 9,999,999 million things in a millisecond and you're perspiring hotter than a 500 T man, well...at the end of the day, you wouldn't have it any other way.
And right now, that's exactly where I am. Save for a few things here and there. Between work and school, I have little room for anything else, but I am super driven. And I love that that part of me has kicked in again. I always felt like I was able to accomplish a hell of a lot more as a high schooler because I was so completely driven by my future, but then I hit a few bumps in the road (Okay, who am I kidding? What I hit were more like gargantuan super-glaciers that had huge pointy icicles hanging off of them, all ironically aimed at me and artfully poised and ready for my demise.) and life began really really sucking.
I don't know what happened to tell you the truth. To this day, when I look back and I think about how I was, my thought process was, and then all the events that have happened between then and now, I have no particular one thing that I can look back at with a stern pointed finger and go: "AH HA! You ARE the WEAKEST LINK!" Because I think in the end, it all played a part, and it all made a difference in the successes and short-comings that have led me to the place that I am now.
But in the past few weeks, what with the new promotion at work (which I never saw coming) and school starting, my focus has been completely and utterly intent on actually succeeding in all the goals I was afraid of before (for whatever reasons). Does that mean I am not still afraid? Hell fucking no. I am readily prepared with plenty of adult diapers for the numerous times I feel the urgent need to pee myself out of sheer fear of all the choices, decisions and life paths I have to make. But what has changed is that I feel I am better equipped to just dry myself off, put on another adult diaper, and keep on trucking. I don't think I'll ever stop being scared shitless or be able to say I don't feel crappy every once in awhile, I am just better prepared for the aftermath that comes with it.
I am really getting down the nitty gritty this year. I'm not just trying to bullshit my way out of this one - I know my ass better work hard to get to where I need to go to be where I want to be. And I figure there have been so many amazing people that I have met in my (short) lifetime thus far that have seemed to have the confidence in me that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to, so it's about damned time I have confidence in myself.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Trying to come to terms...
This boy wants to play, there's no time left today
It's a shame 'cause he has to go home
This boy got to work, got to sweat
just to pay what he gets to get left all alone
Well let's step outside, let's go for a ride just for a while
Oh we won't get caught, well that's what I thought
until we cried
I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
For years I've been holding it down
This girl tries her best every day
but it's all gone to waste cause there's no one around
This girl, she can draw, she can paint, likes to dance,
she can skate - now she don't make a sound
We'll play in the park, till it's too dark for us to see
We'll make our way home, with mud on our clothes,
she won't be pleased...
I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
And I love to forgive and forget
so I'll try to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older that I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go...
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I'm still here,
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know...
And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go
-"This Boy" by James Morrison
It's a shame 'cause he has to go home
This boy got to work, got to sweat
just to pay what he gets to get left all alone
Well let's step outside, let's go for a ride just for a while
Oh we won't get caught, well that's what I thought
until we cried
I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
For years I've been holding it down
This girl tries her best every day
but it's all gone to waste cause there's no one around
This girl, she can draw, she can paint, likes to dance,
she can skate - now she don't make a sound
We'll play in the park, till it's too dark for us to see
We'll make our way home, with mud on our clothes,
she won't be pleased...
I'm still here
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
And I love to forgive and forget
so I'll try to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older that I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go...
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I've got to let it go, I've got to let it go
I'm still here,
but it hasn't been easy
I'm sure that you had your reasons
I'm scared of all this emotion
For years I've been holding it down
And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know...
And I'd love to forgive and forget
So I tried to put all this behind us
Just know that my arms are wide open
The older I get the more that I know
Well it's time to let this go
-"This Boy" by James Morrison
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Today is the big day...
I get my haircut today. And the past day and a half have not been the best way to lead up to this nerve-racking event.
I have all these mixed emotions inside. I have been crying and thinking (alternating each at every hour it seems) over what happened on Monday night. But I have also been so completely nervous and excited for today. At first, I was so happy and so excited thinking that this would be something new, something exciting. A way to jump into a fashion extreme makeover head first.
But then I started thinking about what I had to work with - and I started to worry. Right about now, at this very second, I have this emptiness in my stomach that keeps churning around in my insides. I kept looking last night at that one small bald spot in the very front, where my middle part would land (and has landed since I've been wearing my ponytail). What is Tiki going to be able to do with that?
And last night, when I was putting on the steroid cream, (I always have one hand ungloved to feel for the bald spots in the back, and the other one to administer the cream) I felt three bald spots in the back of my head. To my fingers, they felt huge. I don't know how big they are in real life. I just wish they would grow back in the next 8 hours before I have to go to my haircut.
Because with all those bald spots, how is it going to be feasible to have a nice haircut? Am I risking looking even more like a freak for going today? I already feel like a freak as it is.
I know he says he didn't mean the things he said to me, but God, I really took it to heart. I felt my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach while on the phone with him. I suddenly felt like the biggest freak in the world. It's a bittersweet thing when you allow someone that close into your life that they have that kind of impact on you.
So yes, I am still very mad at him. But I still need a best friend. Especially today of all days. The day when I am scared shitless out of my mind.
Will I still be able to look into the mirror and see the same person staring back at me that I have known for 21 years?
At this point, I don't think I ever will be able to. But one can only continue to hope.
-=EDIT=-
***I did not forget about all of you and that article. For the past few nights, the emotional rollercoaster that I have taken myself on has kind of taken away time from my saved Word document. But I have been working on it. It's probably going to be my longest blog EVER but then again, you guys like having something to read when you're bored, right? :-) ***
I have all these mixed emotions inside. I have been crying and thinking (alternating each at every hour it seems) over what happened on Monday night. But I have also been so completely nervous and excited for today. At first, I was so happy and so excited thinking that this would be something new, something exciting. A way to jump into a fashion extreme makeover head first.
But then I started thinking about what I had to work with - and I started to worry. Right about now, at this very second, I have this emptiness in my stomach that keeps churning around in my insides. I kept looking last night at that one small bald spot in the very front, where my middle part would land (and has landed since I've been wearing my ponytail). What is Tiki going to be able to do with that?
And last night, when I was putting on the steroid cream, (I always have one hand ungloved to feel for the bald spots in the back, and the other one to administer the cream) I felt three bald spots in the back of my head. To my fingers, they felt huge. I don't know how big they are in real life. I just wish they would grow back in the next 8 hours before I have to go to my haircut.
Because with all those bald spots, how is it going to be feasible to have a nice haircut? Am I risking looking even more like a freak for going today? I already feel like a freak as it is.
I know he says he didn't mean the things he said to me, but God, I really took it to heart. I felt my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach while on the phone with him. I suddenly felt like the biggest freak in the world. It's a bittersweet thing when you allow someone that close into your life that they have that kind of impact on you.
So yes, I am still very mad at him. But I still need a best friend. Especially today of all days. The day when I am scared shitless out of my mind.
Will I still be able to look into the mirror and see the same person staring back at me that I have known for 21 years?
At this point, I don't think I ever will be able to. But one can only continue to hope.
-=EDIT=-
***I did not forget about all of you and that article. For the past few nights, the emotional rollercoaster that I have taken myself on has kind of taken away time from my saved Word document. But I have been working on it. It's probably going to be my longest blog EVER but then again, you guys like having something to read when you're bored, right? :-) ***
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Afraid of my reflection
It's 10:20 and I know I should be in bed. I left work an hour early today after feeling so crappy and getting in trouble with my boss for taking a nap during my lunch hour (I was under the impression that my lunch hour was MINE and that I could do whatever I wanted during that hour but apparently that came with an asterick.) and came home only to crash onto my bed with a throbbing headache and a nauseated stomach. I just started to cry out in pain because I have no idea where this is all coming from. It took me forever to get to sleep but I finally passed out and woke up at about 6. So I slept for about two hours.
And then I went online to check my email. I had joined this alopecia areata online yahoo email group and really haven't been writing at all, just lurking and reading other people's posts. Reading some of those posts is worse than watching the Lifetime channel. I stopped reading them at lunchtime at work because I end up sitting there, tearing up and crying in my cubicle. All these stories from these people (mostly women) explaining their struggles with alopecia and the emotional struggles they have had to face over the years. How they found out that they had it - how it was to not have eyebrows or eyelashes or any sort of hair at all on their bodies. How just without the hair on their scalp it has been such a long emotionally tiring road for them - the posts with lists of medications that might trigger alopecia, the posts that hold confessions of being embarrassed, and humiliated, the same feelings that I have felt for the past few weeks while staring into the mirror every morning.
I read these posts, and I see so much of myself in these women. It comes with a comforting and frightening feeling at the same time. On one hand, I am comforted by the fact that I know that I am not alone and that there are so many people out there that deal with this day in and day out. On the other hand, I see the struggle even more through them, and hear all these stories of people who find steroids that work for them but come with other side effects - or that after their hair grows back ten times stronger that immediately it falls out again in less time than before. I read about other women who after so many years of dealing with the disease have given up the fight and decide to just shave off their hair and never look back. It makes me scared to think that I might be bald for the rest of my life. But why? I keep asking myself why I am so upset over this - because it is after all, just hair. It is just a vanity thing, right? Or is it more than that? Is it a psychological thing that goes deeper than just the hair on my head? I am not sure - but a part of me still feels a little silly for being so frightened over losing all of my hair. The thought of always having to wear a wig for the rest of my life. I guess because it was never anything that I ever thought I would have to think about.
Funny how things work out like that.
And then I went online to check my email. I had joined this alopecia areata online yahoo email group and really haven't been writing at all, just lurking and reading other people's posts. Reading some of those posts is worse than watching the Lifetime channel. I stopped reading them at lunchtime at work because I end up sitting there, tearing up and crying in my cubicle. All these stories from these people (mostly women) explaining their struggles with alopecia and the emotional struggles they have had to face over the years. How they found out that they had it - how it was to not have eyebrows or eyelashes or any sort of hair at all on their bodies. How just without the hair on their scalp it has been such a long emotionally tiring road for them - the posts with lists of medications that might trigger alopecia, the posts that hold confessions of being embarrassed, and humiliated, the same feelings that I have felt for the past few weeks while staring into the mirror every morning.
I read these posts, and I see so much of myself in these women. It comes with a comforting and frightening feeling at the same time. On one hand, I am comforted by the fact that I know that I am not alone and that there are so many people out there that deal with this day in and day out. On the other hand, I see the struggle even more through them, and hear all these stories of people who find steroids that work for them but come with other side effects - or that after their hair grows back ten times stronger that immediately it falls out again in less time than before. I read about other women who after so many years of dealing with the disease have given up the fight and decide to just shave off their hair and never look back. It makes me scared to think that I might be bald for the rest of my life. But why? I keep asking myself why I am so upset over this - because it is after all, just hair. It is just a vanity thing, right? Or is it more than that? Is it a psychological thing that goes deeper than just the hair on my head? I am not sure - but a part of me still feels a little silly for being so frightened over losing all of my hair. The thought of always having to wear a wig for the rest of my life. I guess because it was never anything that I ever thought I would have to think about.
Funny how things work out like that.
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