I'm just posting this to say that I'm skipping my March weigh in. Quite frankly between losing Benji and being insanely stressed/buys at work I just don't have the energy to care what I weigh right now.
I know I'm in the upper 180's and I'd like that second digit to be a 7 when I weigh in on April 1st. Ambitious but not impossible.
3.06.2014
3.01.2014
Good Bye Benji
It's been almost a week since Benji died but I'm still having trouble really believing it. I keep expecting to walk into the kitchen and see him all curled up asleep in his bed and it sucks every time I go in there.
I had a feeling it was coming, but still. I wasn't really prepared.
This past Monday (2.24.14) I woke up feeling awful. My period had started the day before and the cramps were horrible. Like really bad medicine wasn't helping at all kinda horrible. I thought about calling in but told myself to suck it up and go to work. Which I did. On the way there I was going back and forth about maybe asking to leave early, etc. I got to work and made it clear that I wasn't feeling well. I posted my payments, suffered through a billing meeting, and then decided that maybe I could stick it out and make it through the day. But I had this nagging feeling that I needed to leave, that I needed to go home, that I just couldn't shake, so around 11 AM, I left.
When I got home Benji was laying on his side by the door, yelping for help because he couldn't get up. I stood him up and he fell over again onto the same side. It was heart breaking. So I put him in his bed and made sure his heater was on and he went to sleep. But every so often he'd kind of whimper.
I went to lay down (since I was still not feeling well) and decided to take Benji with me. He's not generally a very cuddly dog (never really was) but I just felt like it was necessary. I took him in my bed with me and we cuddled for a while--probably about an hour, maybe a little less, and then he started to squirm instead of sleep (like I said, he could really only take so much cuddling) so I put him back in his bed. I kissed him and told him I loved him and told him that if he needed to go, to go. In retrospect I'm so thankful that I came home from work and that I got that little bit of time to just snuggle him. I believe it was divine intervention that I came home when I did.
I slept for a few hours, woke up, checked on Benji, and he was breathing. A little while later I checked on him again and then went to get food. I took Max with me, as always, and I was gone . . . I don't know, 20 minutes? Maybe a little longer? When I got home, as soon as I left Max off his leash he ran over to Benji's bed--something he's never done before--and my heart just sank. When I got to the kitchen Max was resting his head on Benji's feet. And sure enough, my little Benji wasn't breathing.
It was just gut wrenching to see him like that. At the same time, I felt so relieved. I was relieved to know for sure that he wasn't suffering anymore, and relieved that he had passed away at home, in a familiar place, peacefully and without me having to decide to end his life. And at first I was really pissed off at myself that I wasn't home and with him when it actually happened, but then it occurred to me that that was probably for the best. Benji was very, very attached to me, and Jerbs and I agree that he probably would have held on if I'd been home.
I cried. I went to Michael's and bought a pretty little trunk to put his things in (because I'm not going to throw out his collars or sweaters), and then to JoAnn's and bought some really soft paw print fleece to wrap him in. I texted my boss and told her that I still wasn't feeling well and that my dog had died so I wouldn't be in on Tuesday; fortunately she's an animal lover herself and understood. I picked Jerbs up from work and when we got home I gave Benji a bath and groomed him. It was one of the absolute least pleasant experiences of my whole entire life but it had to be done. I mentioned before that with Benji's health deteriorating he absolutely wouldn't let me groom him so he wasn't looking so great.
On Tuesday I called the pet crematory here in Flagstaff and made arrangements to bring him in. Before we left the house I held him and cried and told him how much I missed him already. Taking him to be cremated was so difficult. It was hard to just leave him with someone else, y'know? But I feel really good about that decision and I know it was the best option. And the man who runs the crematory was very kind and caring and very clearly an animal lover himself so I feel like Benji was most definitely in good hands. I was supposed to get his ashes back yesterday (Friday) but I never got a call from them, and they didn't call me today either. I'm trying not to flip out about it and plan on calling them tomorrow to see what's going on. I think I'll feel better, though, once I have his ashes and he's with me again, if that makes sense.
Obviously I'm still devastated. I've cried every single day, and coming home from work just isn't the same without him here. I haven't been sleeping well either. I just hope that Benji knows how much I loved him and I hope that I did enough for him. I hope he died feeling loved and cared for.
It feels different than I expected it to. I always knew I'd break down when I lost Benji. That little dog saved my life as much as I saved his so grief was a given. But I'm not as panicky as I expected. I tend to think of "lasts" when things change drastically. I thought I'd obsess over, say, the last time I kissed him good night, or the last time I fed him, or the last time he begged me for food, and so on. And I thought I'd be sad about all the things he won't be around for. But--and I think this is a result of how much my faith has grown in the past few years--it doesn't really feel like an end to me. Yes, Benji is physically gone. But he's with me now, always, in spirit. I firmly believe that he is in heaven, happy and healthy and getting to be lazy on a big comfy couch, and that he is watching over me. I believe that I gained a guardian angel. I believe that someday, when I die, Benji will be waiting for me when I get to the other side, and that we'll be together, always. And even though I'm in no hurry to go, I look forward to someday seeing him again. And I take immense, immense comfort knowing that I will never really go a single day without him, because he is always with me. He'll know all the things that happen in my life; he won't miss anything, good or bad, that I experience now.
I'm sure that some people reading this might think I'm totally nuts for feeling this way about a dog. And I'm 100% OK with that. Benji was more important to me than anyone could possibly understand, and all that matters to me is that I can grieve and remember him properly. I refuse to be ashamed of how sad I am over this. The truth is that Benji was probably the closest thing I'll ever have to a child and I liked him better than most people, and that life just doesn't feel the same without him.
Honestly, I would re-live any other painful moment in my life a hundred times over if I could have Benji back.
The other day I found myself thinking about the terrible people who had him before I did, who starved him and beat him and thought he was absolutely worthless. They were so incredibly wrong. Benji most definitely had a purpose on this earth and his path was absolutely meant to cross mine. I wonder what they would think now, if they knew what an incredible impact that little dog ended up having on someone's life, if they knew how very important he actually was. I'm sure they never would have imagined such a fate for him.
So now I'm just trying to figure out how to move on. This week I'm going to stain his little trunk and get some pictures printed for my office and (hopefully) get his ashes back. I'm also going to, at some point, get a memorial tattoo for him. I feel like all those things are going to be part of my grieving process and are very necessary for me to be able to function.
At any rate, I am beyond grateful that Benji was a part of my life. He was so incredibly special to me, and so very very loved.
I had a feeling it was coming, but still. I wasn't really prepared.
This past Monday (2.24.14) I woke up feeling awful. My period had started the day before and the cramps were horrible. Like really bad medicine wasn't helping at all kinda horrible. I thought about calling in but told myself to suck it up and go to work. Which I did. On the way there I was going back and forth about maybe asking to leave early, etc. I got to work and made it clear that I wasn't feeling well. I posted my payments, suffered through a billing meeting, and then decided that maybe I could stick it out and make it through the day. But I had this nagging feeling that I needed to leave, that I needed to go home, that I just couldn't shake, so around 11 AM, I left.
When I got home Benji was laying on his side by the door, yelping for help because he couldn't get up. I stood him up and he fell over again onto the same side. It was heart breaking. So I put him in his bed and made sure his heater was on and he went to sleep. But every so often he'd kind of whimper.
I went to lay down (since I was still not feeling well) and decided to take Benji with me. He's not generally a very cuddly dog (never really was) but I just felt like it was necessary. I took him in my bed with me and we cuddled for a while--probably about an hour, maybe a little less, and then he started to squirm instead of sleep (like I said, he could really only take so much cuddling) so I put him back in his bed. I kissed him and told him I loved him and told him that if he needed to go, to go. In retrospect I'm so thankful that I came home from work and that I got that little bit of time to just snuggle him. I believe it was divine intervention that I came home when I did.
I slept for a few hours, woke up, checked on Benji, and he was breathing. A little while later I checked on him again and then went to get food. I took Max with me, as always, and I was gone . . . I don't know, 20 minutes? Maybe a little longer? When I got home, as soon as I left Max off his leash he ran over to Benji's bed--something he's never done before--and my heart just sank. When I got to the kitchen Max was resting his head on Benji's feet. And sure enough, my little Benji wasn't breathing.
It was just gut wrenching to see him like that. At the same time, I felt so relieved. I was relieved to know for sure that he wasn't suffering anymore, and relieved that he had passed away at home, in a familiar place, peacefully and without me having to decide to end his life. And at first I was really pissed off at myself that I wasn't home and with him when it actually happened, but then it occurred to me that that was probably for the best. Benji was very, very attached to me, and Jerbs and I agree that he probably would have held on if I'd been home.
I cried. I went to Michael's and bought a pretty little trunk to put his things in (because I'm not going to throw out his collars or sweaters), and then to JoAnn's and bought some really soft paw print fleece to wrap him in. I texted my boss and told her that I still wasn't feeling well and that my dog had died so I wouldn't be in on Tuesday; fortunately she's an animal lover herself and understood. I picked Jerbs up from work and when we got home I gave Benji a bath and groomed him. It was one of the absolute least pleasant experiences of my whole entire life but it had to be done. I mentioned before that with Benji's health deteriorating he absolutely wouldn't let me groom him so he wasn't looking so great.
On Tuesday I called the pet crematory here in Flagstaff and made arrangements to bring him in. Before we left the house I held him and cried and told him how much I missed him already. Taking him to be cremated was so difficult. It was hard to just leave him with someone else, y'know? But I feel really good about that decision and I know it was the best option. And the man who runs the crematory was very kind and caring and very clearly an animal lover himself so I feel like Benji was most definitely in good hands. I was supposed to get his ashes back yesterday (Friday) but I never got a call from them, and they didn't call me today either. I'm trying not to flip out about it and plan on calling them tomorrow to see what's going on. I think I'll feel better, though, once I have his ashes and he's with me again, if that makes sense.
Obviously I'm still devastated. I've cried every single day, and coming home from work just isn't the same without him here. I haven't been sleeping well either. I just hope that Benji knows how much I loved him and I hope that I did enough for him. I hope he died feeling loved and cared for.
It feels different than I expected it to. I always knew I'd break down when I lost Benji. That little dog saved my life as much as I saved his so grief was a given. But I'm not as panicky as I expected. I tend to think of "lasts" when things change drastically. I thought I'd obsess over, say, the last time I kissed him good night, or the last time I fed him, or the last time he begged me for food, and so on. And I thought I'd be sad about all the things he won't be around for. But--and I think this is a result of how much my faith has grown in the past few years--it doesn't really feel like an end to me. Yes, Benji is physically gone. But he's with me now, always, in spirit. I firmly believe that he is in heaven, happy and healthy and getting to be lazy on a big comfy couch, and that he is watching over me. I believe that I gained a guardian angel. I believe that someday, when I die, Benji will be waiting for me when I get to the other side, and that we'll be together, always. And even though I'm in no hurry to go, I look forward to someday seeing him again. And I take immense, immense comfort knowing that I will never really go a single day without him, because he is always with me. He'll know all the things that happen in my life; he won't miss anything, good or bad, that I experience now.
I'm sure that some people reading this might think I'm totally nuts for feeling this way about a dog. And I'm 100% OK with that. Benji was more important to me than anyone could possibly understand, and all that matters to me is that I can grieve and remember him properly. I refuse to be ashamed of how sad I am over this. The truth is that Benji was probably the closest thing I'll ever have to a child and I liked him better than most people, and that life just doesn't feel the same without him.
Honestly, I would re-live any other painful moment in my life a hundred times over if I could have Benji back.
The other day I found myself thinking about the terrible people who had him before I did, who starved him and beat him and thought he was absolutely worthless. They were so incredibly wrong. Benji most definitely had a purpose on this earth and his path was absolutely meant to cross mine. I wonder what they would think now, if they knew what an incredible impact that little dog ended up having on someone's life, if they knew how very important he actually was. I'm sure they never would have imagined such a fate for him.
So now I'm just trying to figure out how to move on. This week I'm going to stain his little trunk and get some pictures printed for my office and (hopefully) get his ashes back. I'm also going to, at some point, get a memorial tattoo for him. I feel like all those things are going to be part of my grieving process and are very necessary for me to be able to function.
At any rate, I am beyond grateful that Benji was a part of my life. He was so incredibly special to me, and so very very loved.
2.24.2014
2.23.2014
My Benji
I'm sad to say that Benji's health seems to have deteriorated the past week or so. He seemed to be doing really well for a while--eating more than usual and being more mobile than usual--but recently he barely seems interested in food and spends most of his time asleep. I'm sure some of it's just that he's cold (lately he's been whimpering to let us know that the space heater by his bed needs to be turned on) but I'm still freaking out at the prospect of losing him.
I just don't know what to do. I mean, I know he's an old dog and his health has never been fantastic (and may his former owners rot in hell for that), and obviously I know he won't live forever. But still, I am anxious and shaking and I feel like I'm going to throw up because I'm just lost. I've hoped and prayed for a long time that when the time came, he would go on his own. I absolutely do not want to make the decision to end his life; I feel like the only life I have the right to make that decision about is my own and it's just not in me to do it for my dog. And I know I would always wonder if it was the right call. But I also know that I don't want him to suffer, and that if I was really sure that was the case . . . then maybe I could do it.
I don't know. People who have gone through it tell me I'll know when it's time, that it will be obvious if I have to make that choice. I hope that's true.
I wish Benji could talk and tell me either that he was fine, or that he was ready to be finished.
Like I said, right now he's just very very skinny (he's always been thin because of how malnourished his old owners kept him, but it's gotten worse lately) and spends most of his time asleep in his warm bed by his heater. He does get up and walk around still but his hips seem to be bugging him more than usual (again, maybe the cold?). Sometimes I feel guilty for not holding him or petting him more but honestly, I think he just wants to be left alone right now. He needs a bath and a good grooming but he hates both of those things and it's difficult.
I know that I've given him a good life. That he's gotten to spend the last almost 7 years sleeping on soft things and eating good food and not being forced to go on walks or play, because Benji is really just not very dog like. (Seriously, you've never met a less dog like dog than my Benji . . . he hated walks, he never played with toys, rarely liked any treats we gave him . . . whenever I feel like I haven't done enough with him, I remind myself that I spent plenty of time just sitting with him on the couch watching TV, and that that was absolutely plenty for Benji, because he didn't want to do anything else). But there are times when I feel guilty, like I should have done more; I wish I'd had the money to take him to the vet for his teeth, but I just never did.
I just hope he knows how very, very much I love him, and how much he helped me when I was sick, and how grateful I am that I ended up with him when I did. I truly believe that it was some kind of divine intervention and that I needed Benji as much as he needed me.
I think he knows those things. And for now I'm just going to take things day by day and love him as much as I can.
I just don't know what to do. I mean, I know he's an old dog and his health has never been fantastic (and may his former owners rot in hell for that), and obviously I know he won't live forever. But still, I am anxious and shaking and I feel like I'm going to throw up because I'm just lost. I've hoped and prayed for a long time that when the time came, he would go on his own. I absolutely do not want to make the decision to end his life; I feel like the only life I have the right to make that decision about is my own and it's just not in me to do it for my dog. And I know I would always wonder if it was the right call. But I also know that I don't want him to suffer, and that if I was really sure that was the case . . . then maybe I could do it.
I don't know. People who have gone through it tell me I'll know when it's time, that it will be obvious if I have to make that choice. I hope that's true.
I wish Benji could talk and tell me either that he was fine, or that he was ready to be finished.
Like I said, right now he's just very very skinny (he's always been thin because of how malnourished his old owners kept him, but it's gotten worse lately) and spends most of his time asleep in his warm bed by his heater. He does get up and walk around still but his hips seem to be bugging him more than usual (again, maybe the cold?). Sometimes I feel guilty for not holding him or petting him more but honestly, I think he just wants to be left alone right now. He needs a bath and a good grooming but he hates both of those things and it's difficult.
I know that I've given him a good life. That he's gotten to spend the last almost 7 years sleeping on soft things and eating good food and not being forced to go on walks or play, because Benji is really just not very dog like. (Seriously, you've never met a less dog like dog than my Benji . . . he hated walks, he never played with toys, rarely liked any treats we gave him . . . whenever I feel like I haven't done enough with him, I remind myself that I spent plenty of time just sitting with him on the couch watching TV, and that that was absolutely plenty for Benji, because he didn't want to do anything else). But there are times when I feel guilty, like I should have done more; I wish I'd had the money to take him to the vet for his teeth, but I just never did.
I just hope he knows how very, very much I love him, and how much he helped me when I was sick, and how grateful I am that I ended up with him when I did. I truly believe that it was some kind of divine intervention and that I needed Benji as much as he needed me.
I think he knows those things. And for now I'm just going to take things day by day and love him as much as I can.
2.17.2014
Selfies
January 2014 (mid January)
February 17th, 2014
I can see a bit of a difference and it makes me happy. Definitely losing a little in my stomach area. I wish I'd faced the same way both times . . . I'm not really good at selfies haha.
Anyway, I've been slacking the past few days but this makes me want to do better.
And those pictures were taken in the bathroom at work, FYI.
February 17th, 2014
I can see a bit of a difference and it makes me happy. Definitely losing a little in my stomach area. I wish I'd faced the same way both times . . . I'm not really good at selfies haha.
Anyway, I've been slacking the past few days but this makes me want to do better.
And those pictures were taken in the bathroom at work, FYI.
2.14.2014
Valentine's Day Reflections
Valentine's Day has, in all honesty, never been a huge deal to me. I' not too invested in it either way: if I'm attached, I don't go overboard celebrating, and if I'm single, I don't get all bitter and angry. So today was just another day as far as I'm concerned.
But hearing all my happily married co-workers making plans (I am the only single person in my department) did make me feel a little lonely. And it definitely reminded me of how much I miss my ex, and refreshed some of that regret I've talked about before. Because at the end of the day, even with how happy I am and how well I'm doing, that loneliness and regret are still there. Maybe not overwhelmingly so but for sure at the back of my mind.
So Valentine's Day made me think.
At this point it's been almost two years since he told me he didn't want to marry me, and just about a month less that I've been in Flagstaff. I haven't seen or spoken to him since last July.
It's a pretty significant amount of time, yet I am no closer to being over him than I was the day I moved here. Far more mentally stable, sure, and far more capable of living my own life. There's no question that I'm doing better now than I was then. But I'm still not over him.
And sometimes I wonder why, because it should be enough time to let go, right? I mean . . . when this amount of time had passed after Jerbs and I broke up, I was already in love with and engaged to someone else. I honestly thought that time was really going to be what led to getting over it, but that hasn't been the case. Lately it seems that the better I get, the more I want a second chance with him.
I think it's because of the difference in myself.
Back when the break up happened, as completely miserable as I was about it, I knew it needed to happen. I knew how sick I was and I knew that, at that point, I simply wasn't capable of being in a relationship. I wasn't capable of being the kind of partner that I wanted to be and that he needed/deserved me to be. I wanted to succeed at it but I just couldn't. Even when I was engaged to and living with him, even on the good days, I would look at happily married couples (via all my married friends on FB, mostly) and just KNOW that it wasn't something I could attain the way I was then. And I would feel so sad, because I knew I had the right guy, and I would feel so frustrated, because I felt like I was this close to the life I wanted but I couldn't stop sabotaging myself.
But now, I've done a full 180 from those feelings. I know now--with 100% certainty--that I am completely capable of being in a relationship. It's difficult to even put into words because the change has been so dramatic. Things that used to bother me to the point of obsession (I'm not going to go into specifics here but he'd know what I was talking about if he read this) now seem dumb and insignificant and most definitely not worth the grief I let them cause me. I've learned the importance and necessity of accepting someone, flaws and disagreements and all, for who they are. I've learned how little someone's past matters when you genuinely love them and they genuinely love you. I've gotten a lot better at communicating and I think I know how to express myself without flying off the handle or freaking out. (Sad to just be figuring out all those skills at damn near 30 but whatever.
So I think that knowing all those things, and knowing how capable of being in a relationship I am now, makes the fact that it's not happening hurt more. Knowing you can do something makes it extra shitty to not be able to.
I remember once, when I was living in Kingman and he was massively stressed out, I told him how sorry I was for the things that were going badly then. And he looked at me and told me that I was his anchor through all of those bad things. It is still one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, and I was so happy and flattered to hear him say it, because I wanted to be his anchor. But at the same time I felt terrified, because I knew that I was failing at it. I could do it now. Because I'm pretty awesome now.
I'm sure that someday, eventually, I'll be able to let go--of him and the regret--and love someone else. I don't believe that I'm supposed to end up alone. But I also genuinely believe that I already found the right person for me, and I hope his feelings are the same.
Happy Valentine's Day.
But hearing all my happily married co-workers making plans (I am the only single person in my department) did make me feel a little lonely. And it definitely reminded me of how much I miss my ex, and refreshed some of that regret I've talked about before. Because at the end of the day, even with how happy I am and how well I'm doing, that loneliness and regret are still there. Maybe not overwhelmingly so but for sure at the back of my mind.
So Valentine's Day made me think.
At this point it's been almost two years since he told me he didn't want to marry me, and just about a month less that I've been in Flagstaff. I haven't seen or spoken to him since last July.
It's a pretty significant amount of time, yet I am no closer to being over him than I was the day I moved here. Far more mentally stable, sure, and far more capable of living my own life. There's no question that I'm doing better now than I was then. But I'm still not over him.
And sometimes I wonder why, because it should be enough time to let go, right? I mean . . . when this amount of time had passed after Jerbs and I broke up, I was already in love with and engaged to someone else. I honestly thought that time was really going to be what led to getting over it, but that hasn't been the case. Lately it seems that the better I get, the more I want a second chance with him.
I think it's because of the difference in myself.
Back when the break up happened, as completely miserable as I was about it, I knew it needed to happen. I knew how sick I was and I knew that, at that point, I simply wasn't capable of being in a relationship. I wasn't capable of being the kind of partner that I wanted to be and that he needed/deserved me to be. I wanted to succeed at it but I just couldn't. Even when I was engaged to and living with him, even on the good days, I would look at happily married couples (via all my married friends on FB, mostly) and just KNOW that it wasn't something I could attain the way I was then. And I would feel so sad, because I knew I had the right guy, and I would feel so frustrated, because I felt like I was this close to the life I wanted but I couldn't stop sabotaging myself.
But now, I've done a full 180 from those feelings. I know now--with 100% certainty--that I am completely capable of being in a relationship. It's difficult to even put into words because the change has been so dramatic. Things that used to bother me to the point of obsession (I'm not going to go into specifics here but he'd know what I was talking about if he read this) now seem dumb and insignificant and most definitely not worth the grief I let them cause me. I've learned the importance and necessity of accepting someone, flaws and disagreements and all, for who they are. I've learned how little someone's past matters when you genuinely love them and they genuinely love you. I've gotten a lot better at communicating and I think I know how to express myself without flying off the handle or freaking out. (Sad to just be figuring out all those skills at damn near 30 but whatever.
So I think that knowing all those things, and knowing how capable of being in a relationship I am now, makes the fact that it's not happening hurt more. Knowing you can do something makes it extra shitty to not be able to.
I remember once, when I was living in Kingman and he was massively stressed out, I told him how sorry I was for the things that were going badly then. And he looked at me and told me that I was his anchor through all of those bad things. It is still one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, and I was so happy and flattered to hear him say it, because I wanted to be his anchor. But at the same time I felt terrified, because I knew that I was failing at it. I could do it now. Because I'm pretty awesome now.
I'm sure that someday, eventually, I'll be able to let go--of him and the regret--and love someone else. I don't believe that I'm supposed to end up alone. But I also genuinely believe that I already found the right person for me, and I hope his feelings are the same.
Happy Valentine's Day.
2.12.2014
What's Up With Ica?
I feel like a blog slacker lately. And that's dumb because there's actually a lot I want to write about so . . . here's a pretty random mish mash of what's going on in my life.
1. The debit card debacle. Back on New Years Eve I got an email from my bank, basically saying that my card had been compromised (in that whole Target thing that happened) and they were sending me a new one. A week later I still didn't have my new card so I called the customer service line and apparently there was an error in my address (the zip code was missing). I updated the address and was told by what I'm assuming is the dumbest CSR at Compass that I had to actually go into my bank to request another card be sent since the first one had been returned. So I did that on January 8th, and the teller at the bank said that since I was requesting it in person my current card had to be canceled. Which meant no debit card until my new one came, which was supposed to happen in 7-10 business days. Well, jump ahead three weeks and I'm still debit card-less, so I went into the bank and asked WTF was going on, and basically got told to be more patient. A week later, after 4 weeks of no debit card, I called customer service, and found out that the dumbest CSR ever had somehow removed my apartment number from my address. Awesome. So I updated that and then was told that I had to call back after 24 hours and request that another card be sent and that it could be rushed to me at no charge. I did that, and was told that since it was being rushed I'd have to be home to sign for it when it came. Which obviously ticked me off because I'm not home during the day . . . but whatever. At this point I'd decided to switch banks but I still wanted Compass to hold up their end of things and get me my freaking card. So this past Friday I opened a checking and savings account at a different bank, and I'll be closing my Compass account this week. And my Compass debit card also came this past Friday, and I didn't have to sign for it; it was sitting on my porch when I got home from dinner with Jerbs. Seriously, WTF. I'm glad it's almost done with, and I'm excited about my new bank!
2. The financial controller at my work jokingly gave me crap about coming to work on my birthday. And the conclusion of the conversation was her telling me that next year I absolutely have to because no one should work on their birthday. Not really a big deal, but it makes me so happy that it's just an assumption that I'll still be working there on my next birthday. I love having a job that actually feels stable and where it actually feels like I'm wanted.
3. I've been a slacker in the fitness department for the past week or so but for some reason, my motivation seems to have come back all at once today. I did OK diet wise and worked out for almost an hour (work out videos at home). I also created a kind of work out regimen with online work out videos, and I'm really excited about it. It took a lot to get up and work out this evening but man, I felt awesome afterwards. Sometimes I forget how much better I feel when I'm working out consistently.
4. Someone on MFP posted this long rant in the forums about how ridiculous/confusing it is that mental illness is suddenly "cool" and that people are "bragging" about stuff like being bipolar and acting like it's a badge of honor. I won't lie, it, and some of the responses to it, kind of upset me. But I didn't let it get to me and I have since concluded that what this person really has a problem with is the fading of the stigma that's always existed when it comes to mental illness. It's becoming less and less of a shameful thing that needs to be hidden and more of an issue that needs to be addressed to be beaten. I guess it's really not surprising that some people are uncomfortable with that, but still. At any rate, I want to say that I absolutely don't think being bipolar is a badge of honor--but overcoming bipolar sure as hell is, and I'll wear it with pride for the rest of my life.
5. I found out yesterday that Lithium can cause severe acne, which explains why my skin has royally sucked the past couple years (after being damn near flawless my whole life). Obviously I'm not going to stop taking Lithium in favor of better skin but I'm kind of glad to know why it's happening.
6. In general, right now, I'm just feeling very optimistic and happy. And I love it.
1. The debit card debacle. Back on New Years Eve I got an email from my bank, basically saying that my card had been compromised (in that whole Target thing that happened) and they were sending me a new one. A week later I still didn't have my new card so I called the customer service line and apparently there was an error in my address (the zip code was missing). I updated the address and was told by what I'm assuming is the dumbest CSR at Compass that I had to actually go into my bank to request another card be sent since the first one had been returned. So I did that on January 8th, and the teller at the bank said that since I was requesting it in person my current card had to be canceled. Which meant no debit card until my new one came, which was supposed to happen in 7-10 business days. Well, jump ahead three weeks and I'm still debit card-less, so I went into the bank and asked WTF was going on, and basically got told to be more patient. A week later, after 4 weeks of no debit card, I called customer service, and found out that the dumbest CSR ever had somehow removed my apartment number from my address. Awesome. So I updated that and then was told that I had to call back after 24 hours and request that another card be sent and that it could be rushed to me at no charge. I did that, and was told that since it was being rushed I'd have to be home to sign for it when it came. Which obviously ticked me off because I'm not home during the day . . . but whatever. At this point I'd decided to switch banks but I still wanted Compass to hold up their end of things and get me my freaking card. So this past Friday I opened a checking and savings account at a different bank, and I'll be closing my Compass account this week. And my Compass debit card also came this past Friday, and I didn't have to sign for it; it was sitting on my porch when I got home from dinner with Jerbs. Seriously, WTF. I'm glad it's almost done with, and I'm excited about my new bank!
2. The financial controller at my work jokingly gave me crap about coming to work on my birthday. And the conclusion of the conversation was her telling me that next year I absolutely have to because no one should work on their birthday. Not really a big deal, but it makes me so happy that it's just an assumption that I'll still be working there on my next birthday. I love having a job that actually feels stable and where it actually feels like I'm wanted.
3. I've been a slacker in the fitness department for the past week or so but for some reason, my motivation seems to have come back all at once today. I did OK diet wise and worked out for almost an hour (work out videos at home). I also created a kind of work out regimen with online work out videos, and I'm really excited about it. It took a lot to get up and work out this evening but man, I felt awesome afterwards. Sometimes I forget how much better I feel when I'm working out consistently.
4. Someone on MFP posted this long rant in the forums about how ridiculous/confusing it is that mental illness is suddenly "cool" and that people are "bragging" about stuff like being bipolar and acting like it's a badge of honor. I won't lie, it, and some of the responses to it, kind of upset me. But I didn't let it get to me and I have since concluded that what this person really has a problem with is the fading of the stigma that's always existed when it comes to mental illness. It's becoming less and less of a shameful thing that needs to be hidden and more of an issue that needs to be addressed to be beaten. I guess it's really not surprising that some people are uncomfortable with that, but still. At any rate, I want to say that I absolutely don't think being bipolar is a badge of honor--but overcoming bipolar sure as hell is, and I'll wear it with pride for the rest of my life.
5. I found out yesterday that Lithium can cause severe acne, which explains why my skin has royally sucked the past couple years (after being damn near flawless my whole life). Obviously I'm not going to stop taking Lithium in favor of better skin but I'm kind of glad to know why it's happening.
6. In general, right now, I'm just feeling very optimistic and happy. And I love it.
2.10.2014
Twenty.Nine
Yep. Twenty nine.
I have officially entered the last year of my twenties. That thought is just freaking nuts. I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my head around it.
So how did I spend my birthday?
At work, of course! Fighting with Medicare on the phone!
But all in all it was a good birthday. My sister and Austin sent me flowers at work, my parents both gave me money, and I got cards from Jerbs' parents and her grandma. My co-workers all dropped by to wish me happy birthday and in general I felt pretty loved. After work I picked up Plaza Bonita to go, because I definitely deserve awesome Mexican food on my birthday, and came home and just relaxed.
One thing that is distinctly good about this birthday is that it's the most mentally healthy I've ever been on my birthday, and that's an amazing feeling.
So here's to 29. I fully plan on owning this year and making it an awesome one.
I have officially entered the last year of my twenties. That thought is just freaking nuts. I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my head around it.
So how did I spend my birthday?
At work, of course! Fighting with Medicare on the phone!
But all in all it was a good birthday. My sister and Austin sent me flowers at work, my parents both gave me money, and I got cards from Jerbs' parents and her grandma. My co-workers all dropped by to wish me happy birthday and in general I felt pretty loved. After work I picked up Plaza Bonita to go, because I definitely deserve awesome Mexican food on my birthday, and came home and just relaxed.
One thing that is distinctly good about this birthday is that it's the most mentally healthy I've ever been on my birthday, and that's an amazing feeling.
So here's to 29. I fully plan on owning this year and making it an awesome one.
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