Sentimental Sunday: Benji

Benji is a purebred Maltese and I love him.

I got Benji by accident.  A friend of my sister's found him at the dog pound in Kingman, where he was literally the next dog who was going to be put down.  She thought he was cute so she adopted him and ended up not liking him.  She pawned him off on my sister, who didn't really like him either, plus he didn't get along with her other dog.  One day my sister went to a barbecue at her friend's house (just down the road from my mom's house) and she took both Benji and her other dog.  Well, during the party Benji disappeared, and my sister figured he just ran off.

A few nights later, Benji walked out of my sister's friend's bedroom closet.  Apparently he'd gotten scared of her dogs (she had 3 dachshunds) and had hidden in her closet for like two days without making a sound.  (He really is the most pathetic little creature).  It was the summer of 2007 and I was home from Flagstaff and staying with my mom, so after my sister heard from her friend, my sister called me and asked me if I could go pick up Benji since I was closer.  So I drove over and picked him up.  He was just this tiny little thing and next to the dachshunds he looked really sad, but he barked with them when I came in.  I scooped him up and he cuddled right into me.  I took him back to my mom's house and he slept on my pillow.

My sister really didn't want him back.  She asked me to keep him for a few days, and then for the rest of the summer, and then . . . well, at some point it became clear that I would not be giving Benji back to her.  And that was fine by me because he was definitely my dog.  I got him on 07-07-07--my dad's birthday.

He attached to me very quickly.  For the first few weeks I had him he didn't let me out of his sight; he sat right next to me wherever I was and followed me wherever I went.  I gave him a bath and cleaned off his eys (he gets AWFUL tear staining).  Benji only weighed 3.5 pounds when I got him, because his previous owners starved him.  He hated (and still hates) loud noises because they also abused him.  He doesn't like big dogs unless they're girls, and even then it's iffy; we think that his old owners must have had big dogs who weren't very nice to him.

I went back to Flag for my last semester of college and moved into my studio apartment--it was the first time I'd lived alone, plus it was when the bipolar symptoms really started, and if I hadn't had Benji I'd have gone crazy.  He would dance when I got home from school every day, it was so cute!  At night, I'd say, "Time for bed!" and he'd run and jump into the bed.  He always slept by my knees, and when Jerbs moved in, he'd sleep between us.  He'd always sit next to me on the couch and once he got his head stuck in a Sonic fry container.  He used to take himself to the bathroom.  I'd open the front door, tell him to go potty, and he'd run down the stairs, pee, and run back up.  It was so awesome.  He used to go everywhere with me and he'd jump into the car by himself.  I'd just open the driver side door and he'd jump in and climb over to the passenger seat.  He'd get so excited when I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride or I told him it was time to go get Jenny at work.  He knew which car was ours and for a while after the Honda was totaled, there was one that looked like it in the parking lot of our complex, and he'd always go over to it when we took him outside . . . it was sad.

He's not really housebroken anymore.  His hips are too bad for him to jump up on anything now and it's kinda sad.  The most I've ever gotten him to weigh is 6.5 pounds.  His hair doesn't grow correctly because he spent so much time malnourished, so he's always puppy cut and gets tangles easily.  He walks around the apartment but we don't go on walks anymore because he's just getting old.  I think he's about 8 now.  We think he's totally blind in one eye and mostly blind in the other and he seems to be getting hard of hearing.  His teeth are completely rotted (they were when I got him though) and he's very bony to touch.  He smells horrible no matter how many baths I give him.

But I absolutely love him and I pray that he has a good amount of time left because I don't know what I'll do when he dies.  He is my little buddy and in the five years I've had him he's made me smile a lot.  I think he was supposed to be my dog.  He's not playful or active but I don't care--if he wants to sleep 20 hours a day he can.  I just want him to be happy and comfortable because I think he spent a lot of time suffering before I had him so he deserves it.

Boxes

When I went to Kingman, I didn't take much of my stuff back to Flagstaff with me.

I took my violin, which I'll probably sell, both because I don't really plan on playing it much and because it was a gift from Corey and therefore a reminder of him.  I took my sewing machine.  And I took three boxes--one of my winter clothes (which I really needed!), one of notebooks and books (mostly because it had the hard copies of the writing samples I want to use for grad school in it), and one that is all of the sentimental things I accumulated during my relationship with Corey--dried flowers, stuffed animals, photos, love letters, our engagement rings.

The only one I'm going to unpack completely is the one of winter clothes.  I'll take what I need out of the notebooks/books one and throw the rest into storage, and the last one I just wanted here because it's comforting.  I'm not going to open it yet.  I thought I'd want to pull out my engagement ring but then I realized that I don't really want to see it on my finger again, unless it's given back to me by him.

Right now the boxes are just sitting on the porch and I've been putting off unpacking/storing them for a week.  I don't know why but the thought of going through them makes me incredibly anxious and I don't want to do it.  I am absolutely dreading it.

It's silly, really, because it's innocuous stuff--clothes, socks, books that I've owned for years.  I have a few theories.

A) I think the stuff in these boxes are all reminders of the old me.  Not just the me that was with Corey; not just that life (although I'm sure that's part of it).  It's a reminder of being sick and lost and unhappy.

B) It makes me feel cluttered.  One of the most significant symptoms of borderline personality disorder is issues of identity--people with it tend to feel like they don't know who they are.  And I spent years feeling like that.  And when I lived with Corey sometimes I felt . . . like there were a bunch of my identities lying around and I would panic because I wasn't embracing any of them.  Like I'd walk into our NERD room and see my flute and violin, my sewing machine and fabric, my notebooks, and I'd have this sense of panic, like oh yeah, I'm supposed to be a musician and a seamstress and a writer and I'd feel like I didn't know which one was the right me.  It was horrible.  It made it difficult to just live and do what I wanted, because I'd wonder if what I was doing was actually who I was.  (This was going on before I met Corey, too).

But when I moved back up here, I only took what I absolutely needed.  And that was refreshing.  I think not having all of those extra things helped with the identity stuff, and seeing the things in these boxes is like being reminded of other things I'm supposed to be, if that makes sense.  I feel more like I can just do what I want--like I can go hiking and go to grad school and have a job and write and read and whatever and it's all just part of ME--and I really don't want to undo that progress.

(Have I mentioned that being borderline absolutely blows?  Because it does).

C) Seeing more of my stuff here makes it feel like I really do live here.  And obviously, I do live here but . . . I don't know.  It makes it seem more real, more permanent.  It also reminds me that I don't have my own space right now to put all of my stuff, and that's a little frustrating and depressing.

D) I'm a pack rat and have been my whole life (which is probably borderline related) and being here with only what I needed has kind of made me realize how little I need so much of the stuff I have.  But at the same time I can't bring myself to throw things away (probably also borderline related).

Anyway.  I'm determined to suck it up and get to it tomorrow, since I'm off.

After all, they're just boxes.

I Want To Grow Old With Someone

Just something that's been on my mind the past few days.

To me, the concept of being married really did mean for the rest of my life.  And I didn't doubt that once Corey and I were married we would be together for the rest of our lives.

And I really did used to imagine (and still do imagine sometimes) what it would be like to grow old together. I wondered what we'd look like as we aged and I wondered who we'd become with each other, and I looked forward to that.  Knowing that I had that with someone was one of my favorite things about being in a relationship--even when it wasn't so great, I believed we had a future.

When I worked at the walk in clinic there was an elderly couple (in their late '70's) who came in just about every week to see one of our doctors.  They'd been married for almost 60 years, and they were just a very nice couple.  I loved seeing them every week and since they always came in on my days, we got to know each other well.

I loved seeing them together, because you could tell they were just still in love with each other even after all that time together.  He still always opened the door for her and made sure she got whatever she needed first; she was a few years older than him but since his health was poorer, she still worked to support them both.  (She finally retired not long before I was fired, thank goodness).  There was just something in the way they looked at each other that told you they'd really spent a life together.  I remember seeing them together and thinking, if I ever find that with someone, I'll get married, but if I can't have that, I don't want anything.

More than a year ago now, I found her obituary in the Flagstaff newspaper.  I actually cried, both because I liked her and because I thought of him and how lost he'd be without her.  I still check now and then to see if his is in there, because I can't imagine him holding on for very long without her.

Something made me think of them today.  Even now I'm still kind of amazed by them, because they had issues in their life--health problems for one thing, plus her still having to work at almost 80 (she never hid that it was difficult for her, and he always told her he was grateful)--but they were still in love.  And it makes me think of how few the problems Corey and I had were, and how if we'd just tried a little harder and not let petty BS come between us things might have worked out.

Hopefully someday . . .

But for now, rest in peace, Mrs. M.  And Mr. M, I hope you're doing all right.

Another Thursday, Another Interview

I almost don't want to write about this because I don't want to jinx it BUT . . .

Today I had a job interview for an administrative assistant position at an ortho clinic.  It's full time and is very similar to what I used to do at the clinic, only in a specialty practice associated with the hospital.

It went really, really, really well.  The lady who interviewed me was super nice, and we seemed to click.  She seemed to like me a lot, and she seemed to really like my answers to her questions.  I definitely think my experience helped me out.  At the end of the interview she went over payment and benefits and showed me around the work area, all of which I take as good signs.  She said that they're looking to hire soon and that she would definitely be in touch.

I am really hoping that this works out.  Like, really really really really.  It just seems like a nice place to work, and I think I'd be really happy there.

I'm trying not to get my hopes up just in case, but I have a good feeling about this.

Is That A Urinal?

This evening after I got off work, I had about 40 minutes to kill until I had to walk to the bus.  So I wandered into Bookmans, because it's next door, and did some browsing.  And I got to pet a really cute puppy.

It was about time to leave so I decided to go to the bathroom.  So I walk to the back of the store and go into the bathroom, and when I get inside I think to myself, why is there only one stall in here?  I thought there 2.  But whatev.  I walk towards the stall and in the space next to it there is . . . a urinal.

Yep, I went into the men's room.

I don't know how I managed that, because I've peed at Bookman's before.  The only thing I can think is that before the remodel, Bookman's had non gender specific single bathrooms on either side of the little alcove, and I used to always use the one on the left, which is now the men's room.

Needless to say I booked it out of there and into the women's room.  I'm just glad the bathroom was empty because I'd have been truly mortified if there'd been some poor dude using the urinal when I walked in.

DWTS Predictions

Yes, I'm a big enough dork to post this here.  Mostly because I want to see if I'm right.  (It's like a March Madness bracket only much sadder).

Eliminations:

• Week One: Pamela Anderson & Tristan McManus
• Week Two: Kelly Monaco & Val Chmerkovskiy
• Week Three: Melissa Rycroft & Tony Dovolani
• Week Three: Bristol Palin & Mark Ballas
• Week Four: Drew Lachey & Anna Trebunskaya
• Week Five: Joey Fatone & Kym Johnson
• Week Six: Sabrina Bryan & Louis Van Amstel
• Week Seven: Kirstie Alley & Maks Chmerkovskiy
• Week Eight: Emmitt Smith & Cheryl Burke
• Week Nine: Helio Castrovenes & Chelsie Hightower
• Week Ten: Gillese Marini & Peta Murgatroyed
• Week Eleven: Apolo Ohno & Karina Smirnoff
• Winners: Shawn Johnson & Derek Hough

--Louis Van Amstel is my favorite pro dancer--I just love him--so I'd love it if he and Sabrina Bryan made it to the finals, but I doubt it'll happen.

--I'm iffy about where I put Bristol Palin.  She's really not a very good dancer and I think the only reason she made the finals when she competed is because people vote for her on behalf of her (horrid) mother and her (also horrid) Tea Party political leanings.  So I'm hoping she goes early (based mostly on her dancing ability), but I have a feeling the home votes will save her over and over again.

--I personally can't stand Derek Hough but he has a huge fan base (I just think he seems like a cocky bastard but whatev).  He has a huge fan base, and he's a great dancer, and he's a phenomenal choreographer, without question.  Pairing him with Shawn Johnson, whose gymnastics training gives her an edge, just kind of creates an unstoppable team.  Plus everyone thinks he's adorable, and Shawn Johnson actually IS adorable, so I feel like they're this season's golden couple.  I also predict that they'll get high scores from Carrie Ann even if they don't deserve them, because she's already picked them as her favorite for this season.

Weigh In # 3

This week . . . my weight didn't change.

And really, that's OK with me.  Honestly I don't know how accurate that weight even is, because my scale didn't seem to want to balance today (I have a very old crappy scale and really need to buy a nice digital one), plus I'm in full PMDD mode so who knows what bloating and water weight is doing to my body right now.  (I hate my ovaries.  Seriously, I hate them.  They are nothin' but trouble).

I also kinda sucked at dieting this past week.  Since last Tuesday I was good for maybe two days, and then once I got the rental car and went to Kingman and started my little mini vacation I basically told my diet to go screw itself.  I ate like total crap, and it actually didn't feel as good as I thought it would.  So that's a silver lining.

In good news, I found out yesterday that the apt. complex workout room is actually open 24 hours a day!  You have no idea how happy that made me!  I'm thrilled that I can stop blowing off my workouts when I work late.  (And here, late means until between 7PM and 8:30PM, because getting off work at 7 or 7:30 puts me home at 8:30, and getting off at 8 or 8:30 puts me home at 9:30.  And I'd been assuming the workout room closed at 9, just to be safe).

Here's to a new week!  I'm determined to do well the whole week, and hopefully my next weigh in will be a good one.

DWTS All Stars

I have to confess that I have a minor obsession with Dancing With the Stars.  It's a total guilty pleasure and I missed most of the last two seasons because Corey and I didn't have cable.  (At one point, Corey was pretty into DWTS as well . . . when we were first dating and he didn't have a TV, he'd always come over on Monday nights and we'd flip between Monday Night Football and DWTS . . . much to the annoyance of Jerbs, who doesn't care for football or dancing).

Anyway, Jerbs and I have cable.  Tonight the All Stars season premiered and it was awesome!  I'm pretty excited that I get to watch it.

I think Pamela Anderson is going to be the first elimination tomorrow night.  So we'll see if I'm right!

Tuesday Edit: I was right!

Feeling Better

I'm feeling a little bit better now.

Still anxious and out of it and stuff, but better than I was last night.

The Good Side of Kingman

--My mom and Jillian both read one of my short stories and loved it.

--Austin was so happy to see me!  When I called to say I was on my way, he was with Jillian, and when she told him I was on my  way, I could hear him bouncing around and screaming, "SHE'S ON HER WAY SHE'S ON HER WAY SHE'S ON HER WAY!" in the background.

--Austin sang the song Cowboys and Angels while playing his toy guitar for me.  Pricelessly adorable.

--Jenny, Jillian, Austin, and I all went to my dad's Friday evening to hang out and we played football.  It pretty much turned into a boys v. girls game, because Austin kept insisting the girls couldn't have the football.

--I bought Jillian white nail polish so she could have disgustingly bright neon nails with Celtic Sun.

--I stayed the night at my sister's and Austin was so stoked that we were going to have a sleepover.  He told me that we were going to have a sleepover and a nap-over.

--He was already asleep when I got to his house but when he woke up crying, I went to comfort him and I put his PJ's on him (he'd zonked out in the car so my sister didn't bother changing him because she didn't want to wake him up).

--I had a nice chat with Shannon, my sister's best friend and roommate, who I basically think of as my 3rd little sister.

--Sleeping on my sister's couch was actually pretty wonderful, and her house was nice and quiet.  It was just nice to sleep on not an air bed for a night.  (I know, my life is super pathetic).

--Of course I woke up early to Austin talking very loudly in the kitchen . . . although when he actually came and "woke me up" he explained that he'd been tip-toeing so he wouldn't wake me up.  It was cute.

--He took the Halloween slap bracelet off my purse handle and was having fun playing with it so I said he could keep it.  In return he gave me a rubber green lantern bracelet.  I also currently have a pair of his shoes that he took off in my car.

--He asked me why the tutu I made Dolce (my sister's teacup chihuahua) was so fluffy, and I told him that was how tutus were.  So I showed him pictures of tutus online, and we looked at ballet dancing clips on YouTube.  (I am the educational aunt).

--Jenny, Shannon, Austin and I went down to BHC and had lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings.  It was fun, even if Austin was a little grumpy until his food came.  While we were at lunch he found the bus map I keep in my purse and was totally fascinated by it, so I let him have that too.  When the waitress saw him looking at it she asked what it was and I told her I lived in Flagstaff; she mentioned that her mom just moved there, and Austin asked her if her mom had a bus map.

--Near the end of lunch Austin leaned over and asked me very quietly, "Are you sure you have to go back to Flagstaff?"  Broke. My. Damn. Heart.  I almost cried telling him that yes, I was sure.  BUT we decided that he'll come have a sleepover here with me sometime, which he's excited for.

--We went to Kohl's, where Austin and I looked at Christmas stuff while his mom and Shannon looked at clothes.  Austin told me that Santa was watching me and that he'd be mad at me if I bought too much Christmas stuff . . . right.

--That evening we went back to my dad's for a BBQ and more football and other Austin cuteness.  I love that kid so much.  It was hard to say goodbye to him.

It just feels so not fair sometimes that I'm not there.  But more on that later.

Another plus, even though it didn't happen in Kingman, is that Jerbs' cats have been very cuddly with me since I got back, and it's kind of sweet that they missed me.  (Especially Irene, and she's the antisocial one).

It's Been A Long Time . . .

Since I felt this freaking awful.  Since I felt like it was a struggle just to get  through the day.

I had an anxiety attack last night.  A real one and a bad one.  Really bad.  Like, probably the worst one I've had since I moved.  It was just awful.

And all those bad feelings came back.  I felt like a horrible person.  I don't deserve kindness or sympathy or happiness.  

Sometimes I wonder, haven't I been through enough?  Haven't I survived and fought enough now?  Isn't it about fucking time something went my way?  Don't I deserve to be thrown a bone by now?

I know I'm being stupid.  I know that there are a lot of people the world over who are suffering far more than I am and who have far less than I do.  But there are days when everything still just feels awful.  I'm anxious about things with Corey, about work and money, about Jerbs, about my family, about my future, about my health . . . it sucks.

I wish I had the resources to fix things.  I wish I was able to recognize my needs (which I can) and then meet them (which I usually can't).  And I feel awful for Jerbs, because I feel like I'm taking advantage of her.  I know I'm really not, because I do what I can--I buy my own groceries and I buy joint things for the house, and since I work less I keep the house neat and tidy.

I'm just overwhelmed with self loathing right now.  And I hate that.  And I hate that I still feel this way, even though I'm getting better, and I hate that I don't feel entitled to a bad day because of my mental illness.  (That's one of the most frustrating things about being sick like this--you're never allowed to just be unhappy for a little while even if you have a good reason for it, because the people around you will just assume it's the mental illness).

I think this is all 80% PMDD/hormones and 20% the emotional impact of the trip to Kingman.  Right now . . . I kind of wish I'd just stayed home.  (But really, Saucy's always worth it so . . . yeah).

I hope this fades soon.

Crushed

So I went to Kingman for a couple of reasons.  Obviously I wanted to see my family and hang out with Saucy, and I planned to pick up some boxes at my old house--like my winter clothes because it's getting pretty cold up here and all that.  

And I wanted to see Ex-Fiance.  I've just been missing him so much lately and I've been wanting to see him.  So on Thursday I texted him and asked if he wanted to have dinner on Friday.

And wouldn't you know it . . . I chose the one weekend he was going out of town to Chinle.  And it just depressed me, because I don't know when I'll make it to Kingman again.

But things were OK until I had to go to the house and get my stuff.  I'd been dreading it and the butterflies in my stomach as we (Austin and I) pulled up to the house were intense.  My mom met me there and in the end I couldn't even go in the house--I gave her my keys and told her to just open the garage.

She did, and seeing all of my stuff piled there--including the bookcase and desk I'd told Ex-Fiance he could keep using--just made me sick.  Like, it made me physically ill.  I just wanted to be done with it and I tore through there, grabbed the boxes I needed and got the hell out.  It was awful.

I hadn't expected it to be easy.  I knew it was going to be a difficult experience, and  that's one reason I was so disappointed that Ex-Fiance wasn't there--I'd thought it would be a little easier to do if there was a sense of friendliness between us, if that makes sense.  Seeing all of my boxes piled up like that brought back how it felt to be packing them and dreading moving and all the other bad things from when we first broke up--and those are the feelings I've been working very, very hard to get past.

It was a horrible experience and I just wanted to get out of Kingman at that point.  I'd planned to stay until Sunday afternoon, but on Friday night, I got to thinking I might leave Saturday night, and the whole getting my stuff thing cemented it.  (And then that made me feel guilty for leaving early because I felt like I was abandoning my family, and then I felt some of the anger towards Ex-Fiance come back).  

Plus I think my PMDD cycle has started so that did not help things at all.

I just felt crushed afterwards.  I felt completely emotionally destroyed.  I felt like I had made no progress whatsoever and I was right back at square one, right where I'd been when I left.  I felt defeated.

I'd been expecting something different.  I'd thought Ex-Fiance and I would have dinner on Friday night and that things would feel friendly between us, and that alone was something I was looking forward to.  I was looking forward to the silence being broken.  And if that had happened it wouldn't have felt quite so awful to go over there on Saturday and get my things.  

I'd also been hoping, in the very back of my mind, that seeing each other face to face after a couple months might spark a conversation about us.  And losing that made me feel a bit panicky, I guess--the longer we go without discussing anything the more worried I am about it.  But I'll elaborate on that later.

But there IS a silver lining.  As crushed and sad and all that as I felt, I didn't have an actual breakdown.  Those negative emotions were intense but not breakdown intense--just normal woman dealing with a breakup and still being in love with an ex emotions.  So that, at least, is good.

Sentimental Sunday: The Time My Dad Pretended to Work at WalMart

One day, back in 2009, I was at work.  This was when I worked at the clinic, and I was in the middle of a 12 hour shift, and I was very busy.

The phone rang, and I answered it.  It was my mom, and of course my heart rate immediately speeds up because I think, if my mom is calling me at work something must be wrong.  But she doesn't tell me that anyone's in the hospital or jail or anything like that, instead . . .

She says, "Does your dad work at WalMart now?"  (At this time my dad was working at SouthWire--the place he worked for more than 20 years before the closed in 2010).

I was like . . . what?

And she proceeds to tell me this whole story about how she was coming out of WalMart and ran into my dad in the parking lot and she was surprised to see him, because he hates WalMart and avoids it.  So she asked him what he was doing there and he told her that he'd quit his job and was now working at WalMart as a cart collector.

She asked him what they were paying him, and he said minimum wage.  She asked him why he wasn't wearing a WalMart vest, and he told her they were ordering him one and that since he was new he didn't have to yet.

And then, she said, he started collecting carts while she watched.  He actually collected about 10 of them before my mom left.

And yes, it was just a joke, because my mom's gullible and my dad likes to mess with her.

That's my dad.

I think he's pretty awesome.

Blech

Blech.  My trip to Kingman did not go as planned.

Basically it's like that poem.  The parts that were good were very very good, and the parts that were bad were horrid.

It's late Saturday night, and I'd intended to be in Kingman until Sunday afternoon.  Yet here I am, back in Flagstaff, completely emotionally drained.  I'm heartbroken that Austin and I didn't get to have our second sleepover.

I'll elaborate tomorrow.  For now, I am just wiped the hell out and ready for bed.

A Good Day

So today . . . was pretty cool.

I had an interview at ten this morning, for a part time position at an apartment complex as a leasing assistant. Even though it's part time, I'm hoping I get it, because it's a set schedule that guarantees 20 hours a week.  And I feel like that would be better then the Hastings randomness.  Plus with a set schedule I'd be able to stay at Hastings and just work like one night a week . . . if I wanted to.  The interview seemed to go well so we'll see.  Here I am with one of the Mountain Line temp stop signs after my interview . . . I don't know, something about this sign just made me want to take a picture with it.  (Note: because of stop closures and having to get off at the temp stop, we had to walk about a mile to my interview.  Lame).  (Also note: aren't my giant sunglasses amazing?).

After the interview Jerbs and I went and picked up the rental car for my trip to Kingman this weekend.  We ended up being forced to upgrade to a full size, but then the lady changed the insurance we were buying, and it brought the total down quite a bit.  So that was yay!!  It was so awesome to have a car!  We went and had lunch, we went shopping, I drove to work and home . . . so. awesome.  I don't want to give it back . . .

Part of our shopping included this little shop downtown called PJ Chilcottage.  There's a wallet there that i've been drooling over since I got to Flag, but it was $25 and I haven't really been able to justify spending that much money on a wallet.  But today, it was on clearance for $10, and it was the last one in the color I wanted, and it is now in my purse.  I was thrilled.

As we were leaving the downtown area we drove by the snow cone place and it was open, so we each got a snow cone as a farewell to summer.  Jerbs got pink lemonade and I got coconut . . . and that size is the "small."  The first time we got snow cones there we got mediums and they were about twice that size.

Then we had lunch at Wildflower, did some more shopping, and then I went to work.  (And oh, the joy of driving myself there and home, and getting to stop at a drive thru for a soda on the way home).

Now I'm home and I am flipping exhausted.  I'm leaving for Kingman tomorrow afternoon (my goal is to leave at noon which means I'll probably leave at two because I suck at leaving on time).

I'm so looking forward to bed tonight.  I think I might actually get a good night's sleep.

So until Sunday, blog world!

The Thing Is

Ex-Fiance has been on my mind a lot lately.  I think about him and I think about us, and I think about what went wrong between us and how we'd go about fixing it if we decided to.  I remember things and I think about just what it was like to be with him.  The memories feel weird now--like it's been so long since I saw him or touched him or kissed him that they've faded and almost don't seem real.  Sometimes it feels like it was a dream, other times I just feel amazed in this, wow, how could that have been my life kinda way.  Sometimes I wonder what it would/will feel like if/when we saw/see each other in person again.  I haven't seen him since July 15th so it's been quite awhile.

I miss him.  I really do.  And there are days when that is very overpowering, when I feel it in my entire body. When it's more a state of being then a feeling.  And I don't anticipate that going away anytime soon.  I still hope very much that Ex-Fiance's thinking of me too and that we will eventually be able to discuss us and be together.

The thing is, though, that this separation and my being here was absolutely the right thing to do.  I've read some of my entries from before I left Kingman and when I was first here and I remember how miserable I was, but now . . . now I can't imagine having stayed.  Our relationship really had suffered and I really wasn't doing well, and I see that now.  So even though I think Ex-Fiance handled it poorly . . . this was right.  Hopefully not right forever, but definitely right for right now.

Right now, I feel more mentally healthy than I have in a long time.  I'm not panicky, I'm not constantly angry, my moods don't change quite so quickly.  I'm not perfect by any means, and I know that I've got a long way to go, but I'm much closer to where I want to be now than I was before.  I'm doing really well taking my medicine--again, not perfect, because I really am forgetful--but it's much better.  I feel very open to counseling and I'm looking forward to starting that.  I think that's the big thing now--I feel more ready to just kick this crap and be done with it and live my life.  I've wasted enough time already--NO MORE.  Definitely a good thing.

I feel less anxious about where my life is going.  I used to wonder almost 24/7 what I was doing with my life and what I should be doing and stuff like that, and I was always anxious as hell about it.  I always felt like I was behind and like I'd done something wrong and I constantly compared myself to everyone else.  These feelings aren't totally gone and there are times when hearing from or about my engaged or married friends when I feel a pang of anxiety but overall, I feel much more comfortable living MY life and being on MY path now.

I've decided to go back to school and get my Masters in English, and then from there pursue my PhD.  I think deep down that's what I've always wanted to do, but I felt like it would be a waste of time to spend so much of my life in school.  I think there are a lot of reasons I felt that way but now, I think more along the lines of if it's really what I want to do with my life then I should do it.

I'm also writing again, which is fantastic.  And I'm losing weight and I'm not eating fast food.  Generally, I'm doing well.

My moods aren't perfect.  I still have my bad moments.  But now most of those bad moments feel like they're just because I'm human, not because I'm bipolar.

Now, one question that pops up in my mind for me is, why was I never able to do this stuff with Ex-Fiance around?  Why couldn't I be in a relationship with him and make this kind of progress?  And I think it's because my mental illnesses attacked Ex-Fiance so much that he, essentially, became part of them.  He became a toxin, in a way, and I needed to be away from him to actually get better.  Plus I was always so focused on him that I couldn't focus on myself.  And I think there was a part of me that thought that any change on my part, even if it was changing to get better and was positive, would make me different, and then I wouldn't be the woman he wanted.  I know that's irrational but still.

Ultimately, though, Ex-Fiance wasn't holding me back.  My mental illness was and it reflected on him. Ex-Fiance was never really a bad partner (I mean, he wasn't perfect and he had his moments but he was never awful).  It was just my mind's perception of him that screwed things up.  And that's why I take so much of the responsibility for what happened--because I did have a good man who loved me, but I wasn't healthy enough to have that.

Sometimes I wonder if my mind will ever be strong enough for me to combine my life with someone else's.

I do know that I'm going to keep working at myself.  And I'm going to keep getting better.  And my life is going to go where I want it and I am going to be happy.

Beautiful Words From A Stranger

I'm a huge blog stalker, which I've mentioned on here before.  I love reading other peoples' blogs and finding out about their lives . . . it just fascinates me.

So a few nights ago I discovered hisgiantmistake.com.  It's the blog of a woman named Cleo, who discovered her husband was having an affair, and the journey that discovery has taken her on thus far.  She writes beautifully and she talks a lot about finding herself, loving herself, and paying attention to the signs that are all around us in our lives.  It's really just a beautiful blog, full of hope and optimism.

I found myself really moved by it, because I'm most definitely on a self-discovery-figure-out-my-life kind of journey right now.  Cleo talks a lot about signs and in a way I think I was supposed to find her blog at this point in my life.  So much of what she said was just comforting and uplifting to me and I'm grateful for her words.

So grateful that I emailed Cleo, and told her how much I enjoyed her blog and how inspired I was by her.  I mentioned that I thought I was supposed to find her blog and I told her how I came to be on my own journey--about being dumped before my wedding and all that.

And to my surprise, she wrote back!  And it was one of the best emails I've ever gotten.  She thanked me for reading and writing, and told me that I dodged a bullet.  It was just all so sweet and encouraging, and then this:

"This experience is going to create such a rich layer of beauty inside of you.  I just know it."

Isn't that lovely?  I think it's probably the most inspirational thing anyone has said to me since the break up, and I am holding onto those words.

I just love it.  It's fantastic that people can connect to each other via blogs.  Seriously, I love it.

And if you have a chance, check out Cleo's blog.  It's awesome.

Weigh In # 2

Today the scale said . . .

177!!

That's another 2 pounds gone and makes my total 3 pounds!

I'm pretty stoked!

Seeing results (even if they're not huge) make me want to work harder.  I'm still doing well exercise wise and I'm getting better about food--I haven't had fast food since Saturday so that's good.

I'm looking forward to next week!

Some Frustrations

I'm starting to get very irritated with the whole job search thing.  Hastings continues to go downhill . . . I only have 11 hours and 45 minutes this week . . . which is a bit better than five hours but still not enough to matter.  I seriously don't even feel like I have a job anymore.

At this point I've started applying for both full and part time jobs.  I WANT to be working full time, but at this point I figure something that's part time but consistent is better than Hastings.  I mean, I think it'll be better to have something that's guaranteed 20 hours a week, as opposed to something that's 24 hours one week and 5 the next.

I try to tell myself that it's temporary.  That whatever job I get that's part time, it won't be my job forever, and something full time will come along.  Take it one day at a time and blah blah blah.  There are just so many things I want and need to buy, dammit!!

I am also trying really, really hard to keep my mind off the fact that the day after tomorrow is or would be or whatever my 2 year anniversary with Corey.  9-20 is not going to be an easy day for me.  Some part of me is always hoping that he'll tell me he still loves me and still hopes to work it out, and I think deep down some part of my brain has always been like, wouldn't it be awesome if that happened on the anniversary.

I know.  I'm kidding myself and being stupid.

But I've actually been doing OK lately.  My mood's been a lot more stable, I've been doing a lot better with taking my medicine consistently, I've been doing well with working out, I haven't had fast food for the past two days now so . . . y'know, I'm not doing horribly right now.  Plus I've been writing, and that is just such a huge deal for me.

Life just feels . . . scattered right now.  Like there's a lot that needs to be done and not a lot of resources/ability to do it, and that gets frustrating.

Like I said, it's all about one day at a time.  Sometimes I find myself thinking I'll get there, but really, I AM there . . . because it's about the journey, not the destination.  I firmly believe that.

Sentimental Sunday: Austin

The other day I was thinking of all these stories I wanted to post in my blog, and I decided to just post them on Sundays.  And call it Sentimental Sunday so . . . here goes!
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The day my little nephew was born was definitely one of the most exciting days of my life.  I admit that I wasn't thrilled when my sister found out she was pregnant but eventually, I got really excited to be an aunt.

Her due date was Halloween day, 2008, but by November 4th there was still no baby.  November 4th was election day and I was at work (for a 12 hour shift, 8--8).  I was watching election results on my computer and I was absolutely stoked that Obama was winning.  And then my mom called, and told me that my sister was at the beginning of labor, and they were heading to the hospital.

My mom called a few more times that night, letting me know how things were going, and it was progressing slowly.  By the next morning (11-5-08) there was still no baby.  I was working again from 8--2 and by 10, what I knew was that things were starting to move faster.

I was at my desk and I happened to glance at my computer and notice that it was 11:11.  So I made a wish: I wished that my nephew would be born.

At 11:40, the phone rang and it was my mom, calling to tell me that my nephew had been born!  He was born at . . .

11:11 AM.

Yep.  I wished for him and he came!!  Hearing that was one of the coolest moments of my life, and I remember thinking then, this little boy and I are going to have a special connection to each other.

And now he's almost 4 years old, and he's this walking talking thinking swimming little man who loves airplanes, helicopters, tools, books, Legos, Toy Story, Buzz Lightyear, and drums.  He's a fantastic little boy who calls me Auntica and I love him more than anything.  I miss him tons, and I am grateful to have him in my life.

Here he is through the years.  Isn't he precious?

Saturday Lessons

1. The mall can be a great diet motivator.  Wandering around and seeing tons of cute jeans/shirts/sweaters/boots makes me want to work harder at getting in shape.  (I know I don't really need to lose weight to wear boots, but the boots can be a reward for losing weight!)

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2.  Don McClean's "American Pie" is an excellent workout song.  That song is like 9 minutes long, so when you start a 20 minute workout with it on, by the time it's over, you're about halfway through.  And I usually tell myself that I have to get through 4 songs.  So when 1 song gets you halfway through your workout, it makes it feel like it's going faster than it is.  (And I feel like a genius for realizing this).

3.  This is more just a realization than a lesson, but tonight I thought of an advantage of working out here instead of at A.F.  A.F. has cable TV's on their cardio equipment that you can plug your ear buds into, and that's lovely, but let me tell you, there's nothing more painful during a workout than seeing ads for Olive Garden, Red Lobster, IHOP, etc.  Seriously a horrible thing.  So even though I don't love the workout room here at least I don't leave it every night with severe cravings for things I shouldn't eat.

(And if you're wondering, yes, I caved a few times in Kingman and stopped at McDonalds or Carl's Jr. on the way home from the gym.  And yes, I see the irony/stupidity in that).

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4.  Y'know how guys complain about girls who are always saying they're cold?  I'm totally one of those girls.  Tonight I was sitting in my chair in sweatpants and my sweatshirt, and Jerbs was at her computer in a tank top and panties.  Sigh.

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5.  Sometimes the words of a complete stranger can be the most meaningful thing you've heard in a long time.  And that's amazing.  I'll post more on that later.

A Work Fiasco and An Old Friend

I mentioned before that I had one scheduled shift at work this week, and then I agreed to cover a shift for someone as well.  The scheduled shift was Thursday 9--2, the cover shift was Friday 4--8:30.

Well, naturally I had awful insomnia Wednesday night and I ended up not being able to sleep until almost 6 AM.  So when my alarm went off at 7:30 Thursday morning there was just no way I was moving.  In a moment of rebellion and  anger, I said fuck it, and went back to bed.  I didn't call in.

So when I woke up, there were no missed calls on my phone from work.  Which surprised me but whatever--I don't exactly work with a bunch of geniuses.

Then this morning I woke up to a missed call from work, and when I checked the voicemail, they were basically asking if I was coming in for my 9--2 shift.  I rolled my eyes and immediately felt very superior.  I was like, pish, idiots either didn't read the schedule right or randomly changed the schedule in the middle of the week (not my fault).  So I figured I'd just go in at 4, show them my printed schedule that showed my Thursday shift, and say I forgot about it or something.

Then when I was waiting for the bus, I decided to look at my printed schedule just for the hell of it.

And wouldn't you know it, I was wrong, and I was scheduled 9--2 today.

I was like, shit.  I felt so stupid.  So incredibly stupid.  I had been absolutely certain that I was supposed to work yesterday.  I called work and was forced to talk to the store manager and I said I'd just had it in my head that I was supposed to work 9--2 on Saturday.  They weren't happy but they didn't fire me.  Then I called back around ten to four to say I was running a bit late for the 4--8:30 shift and I was told that the girl I was covering for was there so I wasn't needed.

So I didn't work any hours this week!  Go me!

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But the good thing was that Jerbs was getting off work about the time all this was going down, so since we were both out, we met up and went to Sally's and PetSmart (where I met the prettiest little baby kitten who was built like a siamese but an orange tabby).  Then we decided to eat at Chipotle, and Theresa randomly showed up!

We were totally stoked to see her, and she was wearing her USFS uniform, which makes her look pretty B.A.  She got food at Chipotle (her girlfriend and others were eating next door at Panda, which Theresa can't eat on her gluten free diet) and we chatted, and then she offered us a ride home, which was awesome!

On our drive home we went through campus and looked at the new dorms and parking garages and reminisced about when we were in school and how different it is now than when we were there.  We talked about how we both went to band day at NAU as high schoolers, and how weird it is that we were there at the same time without knowing we'd ever be friends.  We talked about the time in '07 when we played in the parking garage and parking lot during a massive rainstorm, and I remembered how I used to drive to South Campus to visit Heather and Theresa and go to band practice and games . . . so weird.

But sometimes it's nice to reminisce and remember, especially with someone who's such a good friend and who's been there for so much of those experiences.  And tonight, the remembering didn't make me anxious, or at least not as much as it has at times.

Either way, it was a decent day: no work, kittens, Theresa, and a trip home that didn't involve the bus!

A Milestone

Last night I entered my first creative writing contest.

I'm pretty excited about it!

I'm also just pretty excited that I finished a writing project in general.

I finished a writing project!!  That's something I haven't done in a long, long time.  The last time I finished a writing project was before I met Corey, and that particular project was only semi-original.  And I have wanted to be a writer since I was 5 years old.  So this is kind of a big freaking deal.

And who knows?  Maybe I'll win or place.  Even if I don't, I'm still damn proud of myself for being able to finish something to enter.

Just the fact that something is finished feels amazing to me.  This particular short story is one I've had in my head for years and in a way, I feel like a weight is lifted now that I've finally used the idea.  And my confidence has definitely gotten a boost--if I could finish that project then I can finish more.

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But there is also something bittersweet in this.  And it has to do with Corey (are you surprised?).

Finishing a writing project means I did something for myself.  I did something because I enjoy doing it and it is an interest of mine.  I did something that is potentially a part of the career I see for myself, and that puts me closer to being a successful writer.  And there is just this odd sense of life going on, and it's kind of weird to think that I'm living for myself and working on myself when this huge part of my life just ended and this huge part of myself still feels completely wrecked from it, if that makes sense.

I guess it shows me that I can do it.  That whatever is or isn't going on with me and Corey, I've got my own life to live.  And it makes me feel like I can do all the other things I need to do, like therapy and all that.  And that's a good thing.
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I'll know by Dec. 31st what the results of the contest are.  Fingers crossed!!

This Time Of Year

Is my favorite.  I love the fall and winter and holiday season.  I love the weather getting colder and having to snuggle under 3 blankets to sleep, I love walking around in fuzzy socks at night, I love Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Seriously, this is the best time of year as far as I'm concerned and generally speaking, I'm usually in a good mood from the start of September until my birthday in February.

(My holiday schedule used to be the start of fall, then Halloween, then Austin's birthday, then Thanksgiving, then Jenny's birthday/Christmas Eve, then Christmas, then New Year, then my birthday, then Jill's birthday.  Then once Ex-Fiance and I started dating, it became the start of fall, my and Ex-Fiance's anniversary, Halloween, Austin's birthday, Thanksgiving, Jenny's birthday/Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year, Ex-Fiance's birthday, my birthday, Jillian's birthday/Ex-Fiance's and my engagement anniversary, and Valentine's Day).

Right now, it's definitely fall.  It's getting darker earlier, and there's a chill in the air--especially at night and in the morning.  The leaves are changing and it's just so beautiful up here.  It makes me think of bell choir, and leaving the music building at 6:30 when it was already dark out, and picking up food and heading home to relax and do homework.  (Life was so different then, and something about it felt wonderful).

That was five years ago.

And now it makes me think of Ex-Fiance, of when we were first dating two years ago.  Of him bringing me home early in the morning after dates, of picking him up from student teaching, of going for walks at the pond and carving pumpkins together.

And it makes me think of Ex-Fiance a year ago, going to orchestra together and coming home to each other and sleeping next to him every night and cuddling and watching TV together.

I miss it so much.  I miss him more and more instead of less and less; instead of getting over it I want it back more and more.

Sometimes I still feel like I don't understand how I'm here instead of there.

Fuzzy Sock Weather

Yep.

It's officially fuzzy sock weather!!

Those are my newest fuzzy socks, which Jerbs bought me at Family Dollar a few nights ago.  All the rest of my fuzzy socks are back in Kingman.

Accomplished

Today I feel accomplished.

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The apartment is clean.

I finished a short story. (!!!)

I did 25 minutes on the elliptical and 15 minutes on the bike.

I've made a tentative decision about going back to school.

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So go me!

Weigh In # 1

So I know I said that my weigh ins were going to be on Fridays, since it was this past Friday that I took my before pictures and started working out and whatever.  But then I looked at my calendar and realized that I'd actually weighed myself last Tuesday.  Since I want to do weekly weigh ins that means they'll be on Tuesdays.  (Pictures and measurements will still be monthly though).

So . . . today's weight is 179, which means I lost 1 pound.  Not bad considering I didn't make any huge changes this past week.  I'm pretty proud, and my goal this week is to step it up even more: work out daily and cut out the fast food and all that.


Hopefully next Tuesday the number on the scale will be even lower!

9/11

I've never been one to get emotional about September 11th.  I understand how tragic it was and I've seen how strongly it impacted the world in which I live, but the anniversary usually just irritates me, because now it's all about politics, and both sides use it to bolster their image while cutting down the other side.  But for some reason, this year, I feel emotional about it, so I thought I'd write about it.

I was only 16 years old when the towers fell.  I had just started my junior year of high school and terrorist attacks were the last thing on my mind.  All I was thinking on September 11th, 2001 was that I had an appointment to get my belly button pierced after school, and that my first serious boyfriend, Russ, had broken up with me not long before.  When I got to school that day, all I knew was that a plane had crashed into one of the WTO towers.  I remember thinking it was an accident, that something had gone wrong with the plane or that the pilot had gotten sick or something--I had no clue then what it actually was.  There was a bomb threat that day at my school and I remember sitting in the gym with everybody else, not knowing what was going on, either at our school or in NYC.  Maybe it's because I was thousands of miles away, but I didn't feel scared or worried, just . . . confused.  That day after school, I watched CNN in the waiting room of Catch N Rayz while the piercer prepped the room for my appointment.

I don't know why it's sinking in this year.  I think that as I get older I realize, more and more, how much of an impact that day had on the world.  It truly amazes me.  It amazes me because no one--at least no one in America--woke up that morning thinking, today will be the day the world changes.  No one was thinking, after today, nothing will be the same.  The terrorists themselves probably hardly thought that, especially the ones actually involved in the hijacking.

But really, that day changed the way every American viewed the world.  It really did.  Back then I hardly knew anything about the world outside of high school and homework and Kingman, but now . . . now I see how mind blowing it all really was.

The other night when I was working out, the TV in the fitness room was on NatGeo and they were showing a documentary about 9-11.  It talked about the small details, though--interviews with the airport workers who checked in the terrorists, details about how the attack was planned, which men were on which flight.  None of it was stuff I knew before, but for whatever reason, I found myself bawling.  It's just so . . . I don't know.  I can't even begin to describe it.  The magnitude of it is just incredible.  It's incredible to hear the whole story from all perspectives, to know what happened at all ends.  Hearing those stories made it so much more real to me--that these were all real people who lived these moments that changed the world and how we view it forever.

None of those people knew.  The airport workers had no idea who they were letting through security and onto the planes.  None of the pilots woke up that morning with any clue that they'd be ambushed in their cockpits.  None of the passengers got on those planes thinking that they wouldn't land where they were supposed to; none of them ever imagined that they would be hijacked and killed.

And it's amazing from the terrorist's point of view too.  Most of the men who actually carried this out, who actually went through all the airport security and carried out the hijackings and crashed the planes, were young.  Not much older than the soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines we've sent to war.  And it's kind of amazing how well thought out and well executed their plan was--that they could accomplish that is impressive, in a sick and twisted sort of way.  The thing is, I'm sure they were scared too . . . walking through the airports and boarding the planes knowing what they were about to do, knowing that they were going to die.

I can't imagine being on either side that day.  And it's incredible to me how little say we actually had in it--once those planes were in the air, once they were hijacked, once the terrorist pilots took over, there was nothing we could have done.

I can't say that I agree with how the United States responded to the attacks.  Generally speaking, I don't agree with war at all.  I think the people who did this deserved to be punished, and punished harshly, without question.  There is no doubt that Al-Queda is an enemy of this country and that the people who lost their lives that day deserve justice.  But I also feel like we answered death with death--we were angry with them for killing 3000 innocent Americans so we sent thousands more innocent Americans to die for it.  And now we've killed thousands of innocent Afghani civilians too.  It's just too much death all around.  It's a battle that ultimately, no one wins.

My heart breaks for the people who were on the planes that day, and who were in the towers that day.  They went to work and the airport thinking their life would be the same at the end of the day as it was at the beginning, and in the middle, everything changed.  Not one single person who died that day deserved that fate.  I can't imagine the fear and the panic they must have felt.  My heart breaks for the families of the pilots and passengers, for the mothers and fathers and husbands and wives and siblings and friends who got I love you and I'm about to die phone calls from their loved ones.  My heart breaks for the families of people who had business in the towers, who didn't know the fates of their loved ones, who waited days for news while rescue workers combed through the rubble at Ground Zero.  I don't think I will ever experience something that devastating in my life.

I do know that I will never be as brave as any of those people.  I wil never be as courageous as the passengers of Flight 93, who fought back.  I will never be as brave as the passengers on the other flights who realized and accepted their fate and calmly called their families to tell them goodbye.  I will never be as brave as the people in the towers who stayed behind to help their friends and colleagues.  I will never be as selfless and giving and strong as the fire fighters and rescue workers and volunteers who pulled people and bodies out of the wreckage.  To all of those people, I give my admiration and my gratitude.

I think the best thing any of us can do now, after all of this, is just put good out in the world.   I think so many of us get comfortable and complacent and start taking good things for granted.    But a big part of what September 11th taught us is that bad things can happen out of nowhere and when you least expect it, and that the bad can be tremendous and seem bigger and stronger than the good.  So do good deeds, treat each other with kindness and respect and tolerance, and hold on to whatever goodness you have in your life.  Just do whatever you can, every single day, to make the world a better place.  It's a cliche as hell thing to say, but it's true.  It's always true and it's always important, but it's expecially true and important today.

(And just so no one thinks I forgot or anything, I am grateful for the men and women in our military who have fought or are fighting the war that stemmed from 9-11.  My heart, thoughts, and prayers go out to them and their families.  But I wanted this post to focus on the day itself, not necessarily what came after).

Weird Thoughts and Stuff

Five years ago today I was moving into the studio apartment on Blackbird Roost and preparing to live by myself for the first time.  I miss that apartment.

Two years ago tomorrow Ex-Fiance and I spent the night together for the first time.  I just remember that it was Sept. 9th that he first slept over at my apartment--mostly because he was too exhausted to safely drive back to his place.  (I don't do well sharing a bed or sleeping in strange places so up until then we hadn't spent the night in the same place).

Weird anniversaries to remember.  But I do.

I did OK today.  I ate fast food (Five Guys Burgers and Fries right across the street from Hastings is a bad bad bad idea) but I also went shopping for healthy groceries so tomorrow should be better.  I had a little bit of a breakdown on the bus.  I don't really know where it came from but all I could think was, my life is nothing, and I am nothing, and I'm a loser, and I should just kill myself now.  I thought, Ex-Fiance doesn't love me anymore, and he's right for not loving me anymore, and I'm a burden to Jerbs just like I always have been, and there's no way out.  I just felt . . . so defeated.

I try very, very hard to stay positive.  I really do.  But there are days when everything just seems overwhelming and it actually feels hard to breathe--like the weight of all the things I'm dealing with and going through is actually suffocating me.  Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning it.

But I snapped out of it eventually.  I snapped out of it enough that I was able to go work out for a half an hour!  Go me!!  This is good for two reasons: one, the fact that I recovered from a breakdown to the point that I could go do a physically challenging activity, and two, the fact that I worked out at all.

This week I'm going to call the counselor I want to start seeing and find out about her prices and policies and all that.  I can't wait anymore to start this, because it's a crucial step to getting better, and just because I don't have a full time job doesn't mean I should put it off.  I have people who are willing to help me so it's time to get on it.

Before

This is what I look like today.  I'm hoping that posting this here will add to the incentive to start getting healthier.  Because seriously . . . blech.  Especially the side view . . . I can't believe my neck/chin . . . so gross.  :(

I'm also hoping that in a few months, I can take more pictures and be like whoa, that's an awesome difference.  Also, today I weigh 180 pounds.  I have all of my measurements recorded too, but I really don't have the energy to post them here.

I think I'm going to weigh myself weekly, so every Friday, and take pictures like that monthly.

I did work out today!  I walked over to the work out room across the street tonight (finally . . . I dragged Jerbs with me for moral support) and worked out on the elliptical like thingy they have.  It's not the same as the ones in Kingman so the timing was different--I did 10 minutes, but the machine said that was 2 miles.  Not too shabby.  I also think I went faster because I've been walking so much and I've progressively just started walking faster (I used to take about 8 minutes to walk to the bus stop, now it takes me 4 or 5).  I'm proud of myself.  And it felt GOOD to work out!  I'm looking forward to doing it tomorrow night.

Courage/An Anniversary

Today it's been 10 years since I got my tattoo.  It's still the only tattoo I have--a small, black Kanji symbol on my lower back that means courage.  I got it when I was 17; my mom had to go to the tattoo parlor with me and sign a permission slip so I could get it.  It cost me $30, which included the tip.

I'd wanted a tattoo for a while when I got it.  My parents had always taken the stance that they'd let me get one if I paid for it myself and it wasn't anything bad (like a swastika or something, y'know) or huge.  I liked the idea of a Kanji tattoo but could never decide what I wanted.  So I kind of gave up the idea.  Then I watched this episode of the X Files that revolves around tattoos, and at one point, one of the characters (I think it was Scully) said that tattoos should reflect on the skin what lies within the soul (or something along those lines, I'm paraphrasing a little).  And it was kind of that idea that made me decide to get a tattoo.

Initially I wanted the symbol for strength.  But the symbol for courage was a bit more complex and a little prettier, so I chose that.  And yes, my tattoo really does mean courage--it was verified by Jenny's dad, who spent like a zillion years in Japan when he was in the Navy.

The thing is, I haven't had a lot of courage the past few years.  I've been kind of a pussy in a lot of ways and I need to get over it.  So today, since it's been ten years since I made courage a permanent part of my body, I'm reminding myself that I need to be brave.  I need to decide what I want and go for it and live my life courageously.

More Ramblings

I think there are 2 big reasons I had trouble settling into life with Ex-Fiance.

1.  I think in some way I never felt like I had a right to him.  I don't want to get into detail because I don't like remembering all the details, but my and Ex-Fiance's getting together was a bit . . . scandalous.  Maybe that's not the right word, but something like that.  Ex-Fiance was (very) recently single when we met--like, he'd been single a few hours when we bumped into each other.  We started dating a week later and it made quite a few people very angry.  And one person spread a lot of rumors and I lost a lot of friends, and it was a stupid petty nightmare.  And Ex-Fiance reassured me throughout that he was happy with me and loved me no matter what anyone said but I think on some small level I internalized all that shit and as a result I was never able to feel like he was really, truly mine.  And I still feel that difference; other women get to introduce their new man to friends and have girls who could be bridesmaids and . . . I didn't have any of that.  So I felt like I was doing it wrong somehow.  (I realize now how dumb that is, and even though I don't know how to get over it yet, being away from Ex-Fiance has made me realize how silly it was--I don't care how we do it as long as we do it).

2.  I didn't feel like I was good enough for him.  When we met I had no job, I was drastically out of shape, I was mentally unstable, I was sharing a cell phone with my roommate (who was also my ex girlfriend).  So . . . yeah.  Meanwhile Ex-Fiance kind of seemed like everything I wanted and I think I was jealous and a little resentful.  So.  Yeah.  I'll elaborate later.

Ex-Fiance was in an unhappy relationship before me and I wanted to make him happy.  And it turns out I was actually worse for him and that makes me feel like shit.

I remember thinking that if he got over her so fast and could be with me already then he must have never loved her.  And now he's gotten over me just as quickly and completely and I feel like nothing.

I don't understand how things just end.  It's bizarre to me that I lived with him.  That I was engaged to him.  That I thought I'd be with him for the rest of my life.  That I woke up with him on Christmas morning in Chinle, that we cooked Thanksgiving dinner together, that we shared a car, that I helped him decorate his classroom . . . I just . . . I guess I just kind of feel like, how can that not be my life?  How can that not be it?

People now seem to get engaged left and right and break up left and right too.  I know a lot of people who have been engaged and broken up like it was nothing, and I just . . . I don't get it.  I can't do that.  I don't give my heart away lightly.  And when Ex-Fiance asked me to marry him and I said yes, I saw it as a commitment.  I wasn't just saying yes to wearing a ring and being called a fiance, I was committing to him for the rest of my life.  To the engagement and the wedding and everything that came after in the marriage.

I don't know if I ever felt like Ex-Fiance was that committed to me.  But I think the doubt was just the mental illness.

I wish I could just turn my mind off for a day or two.  These thoughts are exhausting.

Ramblings

I have so much on my mind lately.  I'm kind of in that phase of my head is just constantly moving.  It's not really in an anxious way just . . . crowded, I guess.  Like instead of being linear and focused my thoughts are kind of spiraling out in all directions and they're random.

Most of it is Ex-Fiance related, of course.  I think about him a lot lately.  I miss him so much.  September 20th would be our second anniversary and I'm dreading that day because . . . well, obviously.

I don't even know where to begin.  I have no idea how to begin to sort or categorize these thoughts, if that makes sense.

I just . . . I miss him.  It was this time 2 years ago that I was falling in love with him, and it was the most amazing, wonderful thing I'd ever felt.  I can't describe it, and I'd never felt that way before.  I loved him, and I loved how I felt when I was with him, and I loved who I was when I was with him.  I felt whole and healthy.  He made me want to get better.  He made me feel like getting healthy was worth it.  I think one of the reasons I'd never really tried to get mentally healthy before was because I never felt like there was anything worth getting better for.  I never felt like getting better would improve anything--it wouldn't make my debts go away or get me a job or make me lose weight.  But then I  found Ex-Fiance and I felt like there was something worth getting better for.

It wasn't just him.  I mean, I wasn't just thinking, I need to get better for Ex-Fiance.  He made me feel like I could do anything.  He was supportive and encouraging of my writing and always told me that he'd support whatever decision I made about grad school/careers/etc.  He just made me feel like I could live my life, like I wasn't a total failure.  He made me feel like the life I wanted was possible, and that was priceless.  I have said before, and will say again, that whatever happens between him and me in the end, I'll always be grateful to him for that.  Before I met him, I was hiding and sort of shutting myself off from the world and I hated that.    It is strange to think about that beautiful beginning and how it led to nothing.

I loved the life I thought I would have with him.  I loved the thought of being a bride and having a beautiful wedding and taking his last name.  I loved the thought of living together and hearing about his day when he came home and cooking dinner together and just . . . all that silly domestic stuff sounded so good.  I loved the thought of growing old together, and I really did imagine those things.  I never realized that was something I wanted out of life.  I never thought I wanted to get married or anything that went with it but . . . Ex-Fiance changed my mind.  Before the mental illness got bad, I was still unhappy, and I remember this weird sense of feeling like I was longing for something but I had no idea what.  I think it was that life--I think that was the answer.

But that was the beginning, and nothing turned out like I thought it would.  I just . . . couldn't get past the mental illness.  And I'm so mad at myself for that.  So so so mad.  That life was right there, waiting for me.  It was sleeping next to me every night and kissing me goodbye every morning and coming home to me every afternoon.  And I . . . couldn't.  I just couldn't live it.  And I don't know why.  I wanted it more than anything and I loved him so much and . . . I don't even know.  I feel like I had all of the ingredients for the best meal ever sitting out on the counter, but I had no clue how to put them together and I didn't have a recipe.

The thing is, though, that when I hear from or about people who ARE living that life--girls I knew in high school or college who I keep up with online and bloggers I follow--it's like, something about it just seems like it's not supposed to be mine.  Like I will never actually be a woman who can live that life.  And I try not to let my head go there and I tell myself that I can and will live that life, but that I have to get better first.  I tell myself that it is possible.  But there are days when I can't stop myself from feeling like Ex-Fiance and I could have stayed together for years and I never would have been good for him the way I wanted to be.

That's what I really hate myself for.  The fact that I couldn't be the partner he needed.  The fact that I failed when I so wanted to succeed.  That when he needed me I couldn't be there for him.  And that I lost him because of it.

But in the end I think Ex-Fiance had changed too.  When we first met he was this sweet, idealistic, romantic guy and by the end he seemed hardened somehow.  Which is probably because of a few things--being out of school and in the real world, moving, financial strain, the stress of his job.  But I'm certain I had something to do with it.  I shut him down.  I ruined him, and oh my God . . . that is the most awful thought to me.  That I took this really sweet wonderful guy and made him cynical and angry and . . . good Lord I hate myself for that.  I can't stand the thought that I'm the reason someone needs therapy or antidepressants or something like that.  Even if he wasn't perfect in our relationship either he never deserved that.  The worst thought is that there will be someone after me who undoes that and who does all the things I wanted to do for him.

I don't understand myself.

I am still hopeful.  I hope with enough time and enough help (for us both) that we'll be able to talk things out and put the past behind us and start fresh together.  I know that's unlikely but I just . . . I can't give up yet, I guess.  I still believe in it too much.

Random Stuff

1) Hastings got a surprise corporate visit today, and the upper management guys were like OMG your store is a huge mess and way behind in stuff!  So now we basically have unlimited hours to get shit done, so I'm going in early tomorrow (though why I agreed to help out when they're effing me over next week is beyond me . . . but whatev).  But it's payday and I'm going to buy my new sunglasses and I'm excited about that.

2) Ironically, now that I've been in Flag a few months and am still getting screwed by my job and job hunting, I actually got a call from the Mohave County Sheriff's office about a job I applied for just after the breakup.  It's a dispatcher job and they're doing the prelim testing for it tomorrow and Friday so if I can make it . . . yeah.  It's really not even something I'd consider at this point but still, it's a bit annoying.  Although between that and the five hour work week thing I wonder if it might be a sign to head back?  But no, I don't really think that.

3) Tonight on the bus ride after work the bus driver played "Still The One" by Orleans.  Totally a song that makes me think of Ex-Fiance and even though it made me sad, I didn't cry.  (One night when we'd been dating a few months, that song came on Ex-Fiance's iPod while we were driving.  He asked me if I knew it, which I did, and then he promised that he'd sing it to me someday when we'd been married for decades.  And he sang it to me that night and all the other times it came on his iPod too).

4) Last night I had a break down.  I've been kinda spotty with taking my medicine, which I'm not proud of.  I don't know why I get so forgetful about that.  So I'm going to try to get back on it and do as well as I was doing.  However, I also recovered last night and was OK after about a half hour-ish, so that's definitely a good sign.

5) During said break down I took a walk and ended up deciding to go check out the work out room at the other apartment complex.  I didn't have the key with me (and I think it was closed anyway) but the lights were still on and I looked in the windows, and I think they have a few ellipticals!  So that's exciting

6) Last night I was trying to help Jenny stretch her back, and I decided to see if I could still do a bridge.  I could, which made me happy, but holy hell I was sore today.  Like my whole body just ached . . . so no more random gymnastics moves.

Dear Corey

Dear Ex-Fiance,

I've had a lot on my mind lately--a lot of stuff about you and what happened between us and how much my mental illness issues contributed to it.

Then tonight I was reading old emails between you and I and old journal entries of mine that had to do with the mental stuff and you.

And I want you to know that I am sorry.  I am so, so, so sorry for everything I put you through.

Because as my head's gotten a little clearer and I've gotten space and time I've started to see how awful I was at points.  And I'm so sorry for that.  From the bottom of my heart.  I put you through a lot that you didn't deserve and I am sorry.

I don't want you to know that in the hopes that you'll want me back or anything like that.  I want you to know that because it's a genuine, sincere feeling.  I think you're wonderful, and I'm sorry for hurting you.

I truly hope, with everything I have, that someday you will be able to look at me and not see those things.  I hope that someday you'll see a woman who has fought a battle and won, a woman you can love and have a future with.

I want you to know that even when I was at my worst, I loved you.  That was never in question, not for one second of our relationship.

Love,
Jessica

Called It!

So remember how in one of my last posts I was talking about how Hastings was suddenly giving me decent hours, and that since I was glad about it I'd get shafted when I got my next schedule?

Yep.  That's exactly what happened.

Five hours next week.

One shift.

Yep.

Awesome.

Numb

I think the best way to describe how I've felt lately is numb.

I don't know if it's comfortably numb or uncomfortably numb but . . . it is what it is.

Then again, maybe numb isn't the right word.  Detached, indifferent, apathetic, and dissociated all kinda work too.

I just feel blah.  I don't feel particularly happy but for the most part I'm not feeling any extremely negative emotions either.  Aside from a few episodes of crying over the whole breakup thing, I haven't had a breakdown in weeks.  I feel like I need to decide what I want to do with my life and there are anxieties associated with that but at the same time it's not an all consuming anxiety.  I know the things I need to do (like therapy) and I'm just waiting until I can do them, I guess.

I don't know if this is a bad thing or a good thing.  On the one hand it's a good thing that I'm not super anxious and consumed with OMG WHAT IS MY LIFE thoughts constantly (though they do crop up occasionally and I need to write it all down and get it off my chest soon).  I don't dread going to work anymore and I've gotten indifferent to the bus but . . . still.  But at the same time I think I'm not really invested in my life right now.  I feel detached and a little dissociated and that's . . . not good.  I never particularly feel like doing anything.

I guess right now my life feels almost exactly like it did a couple years ago before meeting Corey/my diagnosis, only now the Lithium keeps the negative feelings at bay.  I just . . . am.  I'm empty and nothing.  I'm living in my head as the woman I want to be, daydreaming and fantasizing about the life I want, because it's easier than actually moving towards anything.

Therapy therapy therapy.  It's becoming more and more clear to me how badly I need to be in therapy.

Sometimes I think this is more about the ability to meet needs than anything else.  I was just thinking about that today--how I really can't do anything.  Today a good friend of mine is road tripping with her girlfriend to the city they're planning to move to soon, to job/apartment scout.  And it occurred to me that it must be amazing to just be able to DO that.  I want to leave AZ so badly.  I want to start fresh somewhere new but . . . I can't.  I'm broke and car-less and I can't just leave, y'know?  Right now my eyes are really bothering me and I need an eye exam and new glasses (I wear reading glasses but the Rx is really old, I'm sure I need new ones), and I . . . can't.  I don't know when I'll be able to.  Sometimes I think that's what makes just living so difficult for me--the fact that no matter how little something costs, I can't just do it.  Like last week I found sunglasses I want; they're $5.99 and I couldn't buy them.  I need a new wallet, but same thing.  There are these little things in life that most people just take for granted and don't think twice about but I don't get to have that luxury.

And I'm not saying that in a bitter way, at least not in this instance.  I'm just pointing out the fact.  Life is difficult when every little thing, no matter how insignificant, is a struggle.  It's frustrating to have to push all your needs to the back burner--small ones like sunglasses or big ones like buying a car or in between ones like an eye exam.

I just wish I had the ability to say oh, my eyes are bugging me, and call and make an appointment.  Instead I say, oh, my eyes are bugging me . . . the exam plus glasses will probably be at least $100, so I should budget for $150 . . . I get paid this week but I need this, this, this, and that, so . . . hopefully my next paycheck will be big enough to put away say $75 and hope I can hold onto that until my paycheck after that and then I can get an eye exam.

Oh, the joys of being poor.

I think that my reaction to not being able to do anything is to do nothing.  Instead I spend my money on little things that'll make me kind of happy for a little while because . . . aside from those tiny little things my life really is basically nothing.

I don't have anything in my life that makes me really happy.  I don't have anything that makes me really angry or sad.  I don't know what I want to do career wise or school wise.  I don't even really know what I like anymore.  It's awful.  This is why I need therapy . . . which is a priority over an eye exam no matter how bad the eye strain headaches get.

I don't know.  Sometimes I feel like to live a good life, to be genuinely happy, I'd have to be a completely different person.  Sometimes I think I'm so far gone that there's no going back, if that makes sense.

A New Month

It's September!

I like September.  Mostly because it means that summer's basically done and the weather's going to start cooling down.  I absolutely hate summers in AZ, because I can't stand the high heat.  It just makes everything worse in my opinion.  (Not that there aren't some summer specific activities I enjoy, but . . . well, I still hate the heat, and I didn't get to do any of the summer stuff I like this year because . . . oh yeah, I was dealing with having my heart stomped on instead . . . I like summer even less now).

But like I was saying.  It's September now and it's a new month, so I thought, why not set some goals for myself?

This month, the big thing I want to focus on is food and fitness.  Namely, I really, REALLY need to stop eating fast food and drinking so much soda.  I eat a ridiculous amount of fast food and I drink a ridiculous amount of Dr. Pepper, and I need to get it under control.  Like, it's almost embarrassing how much of those things I consume.  So while I don't think I'll be able to completely cut either soda or fast food out of my diet this month, I at least want to significantly cut back on them.  Even that small start will be big for me.

I also need to get back to working out.  I don't know exactly what to do where that's concerned.  I have access to Anytime Fitness until the 28th (I canceled my membership at the end of July, but per their contract, they take one more payment), but AF is a pain in the ass to get to on the bus and they don't have any of the equipment I like to use.  There's a workout room down the street at an apartment complex that's a "sister" complex to where I live, but as far as I know it doesn't have equipment I like either.  Then again, last I heard it was being renovated/updated, so who knows?  I just need to get up the energy to walk down there one night.  I could also just keep trying with the jogging but . . . blech.

I am also determined to start therapy this month.  I've mentioned before that I found the counselor I want to use and I need to call her office and find out about pricing and see what I can do.

The good news is that Hastings is actually giving me some decent hours all of a sudden (I got 15 the week before last, 19 this past week, and I'll work 24.5 this week) so my paychecks should get a bit bigger.  I'm still looking for a full time job but I'm not going to be as broke as I have been, so that's nice.  (Although when I work today I'll get my schedule for next week, and just watch, now that I've talked about how it's getting better I'll have like 6 hours next week or something).

2 Months

As of today I've been back in Flagstaff for two months.

Two.  Freaking.  Months.

That is just so bizarre to me.

I miss:
--having a car and not taking the bus
--the Kingman store and how organized and well run it is
--my awesome co-workers
--Anytime Fitness/working out in general (God I feel out of shape right now)
--orchestra
--bell choir (really I just miss having any kind of musical activity in my life)
--playing Legos/going to the park/watching Toy Story/painting/reading/whatever with Austin (so so much)
--hanging out with my mom and dad just whenever
--having my sisters nearby
--Herkimer, Gatsby, Bernard, Edgar (RIP), and the fishies
--sleeping in a real, comfortable, big bed
--having enough closet space for my clothes
--my sewing machine (definitely a priority as far as what I bring up next)
--having a kitchen I could cook in
--my big bathroom and deep bathtub and awesome showerhead
--sex (a lot)
--date nights
--Ex-Fiance and pretty much everything that goes with that

But even with all the things I miss, I do think that moving back to Flagstaff was the best choice in light of the situation.  I was thinking the other day of what the past two months would have been like if I was in Kingman, and I think it would have been awful.

I was just thinking of going out in Kingman and worrying that I'd run into him, or wondering what he was doing at any given time, or going to orchestra or bells and not knowing how to act around him or what to say to him . . . it doesn't sound pleasant.  And granted, I wonder what he's doing from time to time but somehow it's easier up here, because I can't really do anything about it.  Whereas in Kingman I think the temptation to drive by the house or even just call him would be really awful.  I also think about wanting to go out or needing to go grocery shopping and having to call my mom or dad or ask my sister for a ride, and I don't like that idea.  Even though the bus kinda sucks, it's more independence than I'd have in Kingman.

I still miss that life.  Some days my mind will be on something totally unrelated and it'll hit me out of nowhere--I had a whole other life for a while.  I was doing something completely different and it's such a weird feeling and thought.  But at the same time I think that with the advantage of hindsight I see how much I needed to work on myself and how unhappy I was at points.  So in that respect, I'm . . . well, I'm not glad this happened by any means, but I understand why it was necessary.  I just need to be patient and take things day by day and see what happens.  If Ex-Fiance and I are meant to be we'll be.

Two months down and . . . I don't really know how long to go, but we'll see!