Monthly Archives: June 2015

Everyone Needs to Belong Somewhere

(I belong to you–Superchick)

How you know I belong in the nursery:

A bus driver apparently didn’t bother to look before changing lanes and nearly ran me off the road yesterday…my response was not to scream or curse or honk my horn at him…just to keep from getting smooshed, and once I was safe to simply say “Oh no, someone forgot that two objects cannot share the same space on the road at the same time”…in the same tone I would use to reply to “baby sad” to say “Yes, she is sad because you poked her in the eyes. Our friends don’t like it when we poke their eyes. We have to play gentle with our friends. Can you be gentle with your friends? Good job being gentle with your friends.”

…can you tell I work primarily with birth through age 2?…

The nursery is my favoritest place ever…which is why I am SUPER excited to get to spend time there three days in a row!!

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He filled the sea, with his tears and watched his dreams, disappear…send me someone to Lava

(Lava–Disney/Pixar)

I watched Inside Out today at the theater with my daddy. It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it was pretty good. I did feel like it was trying to teach me something though, and I couldn’t figure out what that something was…but the movie was so good…

It was hilarious. I loved it so much…watching movies in a theater is hard because I cannot sit still that long, and I definitely am not going to play on the floor or lay upside down in a movie theater, but it helped that there were a lot of families with little kids there, and that helped keep me on task…it was so worth it for this movie.

There were also parts with which I could identify…being torn from my happy place, my old church…the world really does feel like it is completely falling apart and nothing can save the situation…even going back home just isn’t the same…everything changes because I no longer fall into the same position…and my reaction at the time was to lock up my emotion so I was numb…so basically my reaction was not identical to Riley’s in the movie, but there were definitely parallels that kept me engaged.

…and I do understand that sometimes memories or experiences that should be happy seem to be tainted by sadness, but sometimes wallowing in the sadness is the only way out of it…

It was an awesomesauce movie! Disney is great 🙂

She’s a GIRL

(How do you solve a problem like Maria–The Sound of Music)–I have the best daddy every…I checked out Jesus Chainsaw Massacre at the library today and we watched it together and then he made the video player work so I could start watching The Sound of Music!!!!! So excited!!!!! So much better than the DVD of it I cried through last summer that wasn’t quite right!!!!!

Some things are hard. I still have survival brain (reference here). Today last year was the last time I was in 219’s office…making plans for next meetings…which she apparently knew weren’t going to happen, because three days later she was going to cancel our phone meeting in the morning (and again ask to re-schedule which she knew she wasn’t going to do)…and then terminate with me in the afternoon as if I had never existed in the first place…although if I am being really honest, I never really existed to her as a client…as a verbal punching bag to manipulate and exert a sense of control over, yes, but as a client or even as a person, definitely not…I was ready to get rid of her, but I was ready to do it gently, formally, and, dare I say, appropriately? The goal was to remove me from the toxic environment, but I wanted to spare both her feelings and my own, and I suppose to ensure that from the outside no one would find out there was ever a problem. I wanted to close the book, but instead she ensured she could continue to hurt me even through and following termination.

This time of year will probably continue to be hard for me in the years to come. I wish I had realized what was happening a lot sooner and asserted my own rights…and maybe hadn’t been quite so protective of the people around me when my world was falling apart, because while I would never wish harm on even the people I do not like (I like self-defense, but the idea of intentionally hurting someone who isn’t wearing padding is something I don’t think I could do even if the other person wanted to hurt me…and verbal hurting of people is the same in my eyes), I can look back now and recognize that my over-protectiveness got in the way of anyone finding out what had really happened until it was too late to do anything about it…

I am working on re-applying for the same scholarship I was a semi-finalist for last year…with deep-seated memories of frustratingly trying to work things out to have access to my transcript…and the application itself…to apply to be a finalist…I am doing okay now, but it is painful to reflect back on the chaos, panic, desperation, fear, and hurt that this weekend and the weeks to come plunged me into last year. I still mourn the loss of my friendships in the weeks and months that followed. I am SO thankful for the people who stepped into my life this year to walk with me through everything, but nothing will ever erase what I have endured, and new friends do not replace the voids left by the old. I still feel empty inside sometimes where there are pieces missing of my heart.

But I wanted to share my first draft of one of my essays…it is a first draft so it is not edited whatsoever…and not very good…but it is a part of my story…so I’m gonna share it…slight literary license was used in this draft though…among other things, I was in 4th grade rather than 6 years old in the first paragraph…haha…this is so different from my school admissions essay years ago that was very clearly thrown together without a whole lot of effort (and which I am not sharing)…because this draft alone might not have used much brainpower, but I did at least CARE, and used thought to move to the final draft…

so yeah…here it is:

As a six year old girl, I didn’t want to be a princess…or a mom…or a ballerina. I wanted to be a pharmacist, but I couldn’t let anyone know—I could never be a pharmacist because the hospital is open 24 hours a day and I needed to sleep. My parents suggested one day that perhaps I’d be interested in being a pharmacist, and I finally let my secret out, and to my surprise, learned that pharmacists work in shifts, making my impossible dream a possibility. By the end of the year, I had shadowed [name], a pharmacist at [hospital] for the first time, confirming my dream to become a pharmacist.

Ten years later, I was shadowing her again getting ready for a diabetic education with a Hmong interpreter when a code was called in the ED. Unlike the movies where doctors are running around and doing everything while the family screams and monitor sirens go off, the pharmacist and I assessed the medications needed, and prepared the medication while the doctors and nurses calmly administrated the medication, monitored the patient, and ultimately intubated the patient and got him ready to be admitted to PICU, and while all this happened, a social worker was comforting the family and explaining what was happening and a child life worker was organizing activities for the sick child’s siblings.

Watching the teamwork from all members of the healthcare team, and seeing the active role a clinical pharmacist has in patient care and in decision making with physicians solidified my dream to become a pediatric clinical pharmacist.

Looking back at where you have been

(How You Live—Point of Grace)

So I wanted to write about the alphabet soup of labels that have been used on me over the past few years and my thoughts on each…as always, it is more about thinking things through for myself that for anyone else to read, but I am always happy to share my thoughts to whomever may enjoy them or benefit from them 🙂

So, I started with SI, self-injury…It was a way to grasp onto some small piece of control in a world that I was drowning in. When it had gotten the worst and I finally realized it needed to stop, I had recently stopped swimming, and while everyone thought of me as a swimmer still, to me I had lost that identity and I missed both the water and struggled with the loss of the identity. People at school still thought I was a “smart kid” but my grades weren’t the greatest and I had never fully latched onto the identity of being smart, but it felt that what little bit I had held onto was being ripped away from me…although looking back, the grades were probably at least partially a result of the other things going on in life, although it definitely was partly because I was reaching the point where trying harder and longer was no longer enough to make up for my low reading comprehension level—when reading comprehension only required knowing what the words meant, I excelled, but when it began requiring actually understanding written material I was a little lost. I had made up for it by working harder and longer, but there was more work and it was going farther and farther over my head…and then on top of the school thing, on August 10, 2008, I attended a new church. Taking me away from my old church completely changed what I saw as the course of my life and took away the things I had been looking forward to in the years to come. That was one more thing that was taking away my view of my identity and taking away my sense of control…I was struggling and the SI gave me a way to put the control back into my hands. It could cover up the pain in my life…I mean, yes, it hurt, but it felt better to be the one in control of my pain instead of feeling totally helpless needing to just endure the pain. I never WANTED to hurt; that was NOT the intent…it happens when the pain seems like the only way to feel okay. It isn’t to control other people. It is a way to feel control over myself. I let myself get walked all over, and hurting myself let me feel like I still had control over myself…is it fun to bruise my knuckles on occasion when I bit them too hard, certainly not, nor was it fun to feel the need to pinch myself to control pain, but it felt like a solution to my pain. I knew it was wrong, but knowing and being able to act on that knowledge were certainly different things.

I still refuse to label myself whatsoever with anorexia nervosa…yet…I was headed that direction my senior year of high school, and had I not noticed it and stubbornly known I was definitely not letting myself going there and forced myself to turn around, my life could have taken a very different path. It was NEVER about food, and NEVER about weight…it was simply another way to try to reach for control. I was losing my old church the rest of the way, and I was hurting…I wasn’t going to go back to self-injury, and I guess this was the next best thing I could reach for. It only lasted a couple months, but when I realized it, it was definitely scary to see where it could have gone…At the point I realized it and turned things around, I was NOT at dangerous weight, and was still eating three meals per day and snacks—I was not starving…did I lose weight, yes, but my BMI remained just barely within the healthy range, so it doesn’t feel like I really deserve the label of an eating issues kid, although I definitely know that people don’t usually feel like they deserve a label of AN even when they do…but I feel like for me it never went far enough to really label me that way…

I was going to go in chronological order of when things were suggested to me, and/or became problems, but it is hard to determine exactly what comes next…

I guess I’ll write about OCD next…when I told my friend about the food restriction when I got scared and was turning things around, she mentioned that I should look into OCD…I had no reason at that point to believe I had OCD and I didn’t really understand—I was attempting to research how OCD treatment is connected to anorexia nervosa treatment…and was not overly successful…I never really bought into the whole OCD thing and 99% forgot about it…until first year when I was hanging out with my friend and she said to bring up OCD with my counselor and I agreed to try…a few weeks later I successfully tried…however…when the obvious follow-up question of “why” was asked it was met with an “I don’t know” and the conversation was dropped and never retrieved…I attempted to elicit help later that year when I was terrified because my roommate had gotten sick, but my attempt was completely unnoticed as far as I can tell…which probably isn’t that surprising seeing as how my counselor at this point had not yet given me a way to communicate, and via email I had simply put it as a statement that I was coming unless I got sick because my roommate was sick, so without any way to know how I communicate and without any way for me to get help without drawing attention to myself, it is not that surprising that no one really knew what happened…I think it was that summer that someone else suggested OCD to me, which was what brought it to the forefront again, and when I went back to school in the fall using handwashing as a distraction technique and stuff I was finally ready to actually admit that there was a problem here…It was only the control the people mentioning it had seen at this point—the germ issues were pretty well hidden…If you wanna read more about my struggle with OCD I have written quite a few things about that…but yeah, there is no question that OCD was a problem for me…there isn’t much other explanation for my bloody hands, my refusal to eat and drink, my sanitization of my environment, my holding my breath in dirty spaces, and so much more, and I am SO thankful that I no longer have to deal with that. I thought last year that just not having compulsions would be enough to make me happy…After everything I had been through I had lost hope that freedom was possible. My counselor had told me so many times that it was hopeless and I was never going to be good enough that I started to believe it and lower my aims…but she was wrong. It took some time once I was recovered to really believe this was for real and not just a break or something, but I am so glad that I don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore. The way it feels when you accidentally touch the oven when it is hot is how your brain feels when you have OCD. But rather than just a brief localized ouch, the whole brain starts to hurt like that. And you can’t just remove your brain from the heat like instinctively happens with your hand…so you do compulsions. Washing and avoidance are like a tiny trickle of cold water…it feels just a tiny bit less hot in just a small point, but that feels SO good you just keep doing it…yeah, the washing is annoying but necessary but it also feels like if you could just stop washing it would feel awesome because that is taking up so much time and energy…and while the OCD isn’t really about the compulsions, it feels like that is all there is, because the compulsions and avoidance seem like the entirety of the OCD—the reason behind the compulsions and avoidance becomes hidden under the compulsions and avoidance…so yeah…I am so glad to have turned off the oven and no longer have to deal with the OCD…no compulsions/avoidance, nor any desire for them 🙂

Completely unrelated side note…I should probably be careful with what I repeat…my radio stopped working like a year or so ago so sometimes I listen to my ipod when I ride my bike…and that was what I was doing a few days ago…sometimes when I am listening to something and I like it I repeat it…so I said “You’re gonna get mean. You’re gonna get tough. You’re gonna get physical. You’re gonna get out there and KILL!”…yep, I said that out loud…haha yeah…anyone who really knows me knows that although I love self-defense, I am not very sure that I could actually intentionally hurt someone even if they were attempting to kill me…but random people on the street don’t know that…

Back to what I was talking about, looking back at where I have been…before my second year, someone suggested that perhaps my reaction to going to the new church had become PTSD. I am not really sure I agree with that, primarily because there was no threat to my life, or anyone else’s…like yes, it was a huge deal to me, but part of the lasting effects I think I kind of brought on myself…I could see that I was being torn away and desperately desired for that not to happen, so I was taping over the weak spots holding it together which meant that when it finally was completely torn away, instead of one straight line taking off a piece of my heart, the was a jagged line that seemed as if nothing could ever match up enough to fill in the gaps…it was my holding on so tightly that I think probably ultimately made it so hard…but when you have built your life around a certain situation, and especially when this is where you have been “studying” social skills for so long but not well enough to have any transferable skills, it is really hard to be forced to leave and completely start over. This year I finally found peace with the situation. Yes, there are things that were hard and things I missed out on through the change, but there are also some good things that would never have happened (okay fine…and some bad things…I would never have gotten into counseling if it weren’t for people I met at the new church…so I would have been protected from some stuff)…but I have absolutely loved doing VBS, and have been the head teacher for the 0 to 2 year olds for the past few years, and that is something I never could have experienced, and while I am sure there are plenty of other activities I could have done instead, this one is not bad and is a highlight of my summer…unfortunately, this year I am unsure if I will be able to do it because of when it falls with my rotation, but I am hopeful that I will be able to at least volunteer a night or two even if I can’t lead (and chances are while I am there I will lead anyway if I make it—it wasn’t until last year that I was even aware that I WAS the head teacher…I naturally am inclined toward leadership so in the past I had taken on that role to some extent, but never knew that I was officially assigned that position…I just thought I was another volunteer in the room…but anyway, I love VBS and am glad I have gotten that experience…and actually, after reading this article , I am more willing to define the experience in the same way as the person who suggested it had defined it.

So yeah…social anxiety…this is another one I am super proud of where I have come. For as long as I can remember, I have been pretty avoidant of social situations. If I really had to do it, I usually could, but if it was reasonably avoidable, it was avoided…which is probably why I had the same group of friends through most of middle school and still didn’t know their names by the end of middle school…and why the new kids were usually my friends until they got in with the cool kids and left me behind…like, it feels good for you to thank me for being your first friend, but it detracts from the thanks when you have no longer been interested in being with me ever since the cool kids accepted you a few weeks ago…You would probably be amazed at how much of life I was able to navigate without speaking out loud and with minimal written communication…At some point first year I was talking to my at home friend and she was shocked to hear that I talked to my counselor even less than I talked to her, because I barely spoke to her…but she was my best friend so I was a lot more comfortable with her, and thus was much more able to speak even if I couldn’t say much…and plus my friend was so encouraging. Some of my favorite memories with her are of how enthusiastically she praised me when I spoke out loud, especially when I said something besides “yes” no” or “I don’t know.” In my records from third year I saw the diagnosis of selective mutism…at first I thought that was stupid because I always could get through the amount of speaking I deemed important enough to push through, but after more reflection, I suppose that I probably was at least on the bubble between JUST social anxiety and having SM…There was SO much more in my head that I really wanted to say that I couldn’t push through my mouth…It was painstaking at times to get words out that I really wanted to say. I would try so hard and not be able to say anything…It was as if my mouth and vocal cords were glued in place, and my feet were glued to the floor…If you imagine that you wanted to do cartwheels in the grass, but were wrapped up like a mummy and tied in place unable to move a muscle without great difficulty, that is what it feels like…it is not fun…I do prefer the older term, elective mutism, to the new term though…selective mutism to me feels more as if there is a choice involved in when to speak and when to be silent, whereas elective mutism doesn’t feel like a choice, rather it feels to me as if it describes more something out of my control that just happens in some settings…I say in some settings, because I have never had a large amount of difficulty in the classroom—that is the one setting in which I could usually speak whenever I needed to…which, unfortunately, means that now that I speak freely to everyone, the amount of talking I do in the classroom is kind of a problem because I start talking to the people sitting next to me, and I talk to myself, and I just say whatever is on my mind as soon as it pops into my head without thinking first about whether it is actually overly important or relevant at the moment…which means I get yelled at occasionally by teachers because I can’t keep my mouth shut and be quiet…but considering I came from being too quiet and getting yelled at by a counselor last year for not speaking enough, I will accept being yelled at for being too loud and obnoxious…although it hurts my heart when my friends tell me to shut up because I am being really distracting, because I try really hard to be quiet and not bother anyone, but it is like I can’t find the turn off switch and my mouth is constantly powered on, meowing like a cat and saying whatever is on my mind, and it bothers them, but I can’t shut up…I don’t WANT to bother anyone…I just want to make everyone happy, and I can’t. Sometimes I feel like I will never be good enough.

I guess next is the last one in my blog title…ASD…There is only one person who ever truly suggested that I had autism. Sure, one person suggested previously that I didn’t really seem to recognize or express emotions, but I believe that I couldn’t recognize them as well as other girls because I had spent so much of my life isolated, and didn’t express much, because expressing emotion tends to bring attention to yourself—attention that I preferred to avoid at all costs. Aside from that, the statement was a completely new proposition…I still do not really know what she saw in me to label me that way…I asked in writing the next week but she refused to tell me, because it is her clinical judgement and that is not my business and not up for negotiation. I was a compliant and respectful girl…okay fine…I was also passive and didn’t know how to stand up for myself…but not knowing is still really hard, because how can I argue against it if I don’t even know your point of view?!…yeah, I do still crave control, which means I want to know everything…I want to know why people have done or said things. I want to know what people are thinking…I get frustrated with books and news articles and movies, because they leave out what I consider the ending…to anyone else all the information needed is there, but I want to know more…One of the times she kicked me out (and then “apologized” and allowed me back) she connected the “autism” to my taking a little time to speak my thoughts…I think anyone with half a brain would realize that if speaking is terrifying then words will not come quickly…without fear I can now hold a conversation just fine…but with the fear, it was hard…The fear clouded my ability to process the words being spoken to me…it was hard to find words to reply, to shorten those words into something I could realistically convey, to force those words out of my mouth…clearly a conversation with me was going to require at least a little waiting if you were going to want spoken responses from me and do not accept written responses, especially if you ask questions that not only require more than a yes or a no, but also requires a significant amount of knowledge that I might not have or thoughtfulness that you are not allowing me enough time to procure…even without fear, I certainly cannot come up with a 10-page case presentation without stopping to think about my response first…in the real world, they call this successfully avoiding impulsivity…yeah, sometimes I start immediately, but I tend to pay for that in stupid things falling out of my mouth or coming out my fingers that I wouldn’t have said/written if I’d stopped to THINK for a minute…So, my opinion currently is that if you are not willing to give me a reason when directly asked why you think I may have autism, then I doubt that your assessment is based on anything about me. If someone I trusted thought there was a possibility I would be more than willing to look into it and collaboratively assess the possibility, working together as a TEAM, but unless/until someone trustworthy objects, I am closing the book on any possibility of autism.

So that leaves ADHD…This one is the newest and therefore the one I have had the least time to reflect on…At first I was a bit offended when it was suggested to me…Although it was someone who likely intended no harm, I guess it just wasn’t coming at a good time and my interpretation of the thought was that of someone looking for something wrong with me to discount my interpretation of how things were going…I thought I was having trouble concentrating because my life was kind of turbulent, and pathologizing that feeling felt to me as if she were telling me that I didn’t deserve to feel hurt after being abused and having my life and livelihood taken away from me…I doubt she intended it that way, but I was already hurting, and upset and this just made me feel blown off, and as if I didn’t matter…I don’t value myself very highly and therefore do not expect that much from other people, but I do deeply crave feeling accepted for who I am…not just tolerated based on what I can do for you, but accepted…the turning point in really believing it was in filling out a questionnaire about ADHD…it was intended as more of a survey than a diagnostic tool, but it kind of opened my eyes to the possibility that I really did have ADHD…every one of my responses fell within the category of possible ADHD…and many of the questions pointed directly at things that really bothered me about myself…I get really frustrated with myself sometimes when teachers yell at me for talking too much in class when I really wasn’t trying to be disruptive…I squirm and am always in motion instead of sitting still facing forward like a mature person…I am impulsive (there is a broken key on my keychain as a reminder from an event in which I acted impulsively…it is supposed to serve as a reminder, but the thing is that when I am about to act impulsively, it is not like I get a little signal or anything to look down at my keychain, see the broken key, and remember to reflect on whether or not what I am about to do is a good idea…but just if you were wondering, cutting your nice (expensive) lock off your bike because you played with and broke one of the keys is not such a good idea, especially when you actually do have four more keys that you could use to unlock it—they just aren’t currently hung on a keychain around your neck…)…and, well, I am distractible (there are a lot of examples I could use here, but a very recent example: I interrupted the sales person at the car place while she was talking about something to which I probably should have been listening to ask what the red button on her computer did—I really wasn’t intentionally tuning her out, but sometimes the background track gets so loud I forget about the foreground…haha…yeah…this is one of the areas in which the social anxiety actually was helpful…when it was harder to talk, I didn’t interrupt my friends or people providing me with information…I may still have been distracted thinking about that bright red button, but my mouth was shut so I at least wasn’t being rude and interrupting them…so yeah…after that long aside…my (former) counselor suggested I either give medication a chance or keep working with a counselor to try to learn to focus better (or do both), but my opinion is that if I have made it this far without official help, that if I set my mind to it I will continue to be able to work around this on my own…obviously if something changes and I discover that the frustration with myself has become too intense or the distraction and impulsivity start causing greater problems in my life then I am all for solving that problem, but I don’t really want to fix something that isn’t really broken…plus, in much of my experience, people are being medicated for ADHD because they are driving the people AROUND them crazy rather than because the symptoms are bothering them, and in my opinion, I am who I am. If you don’t like my unmedicated crazy self then don’t be friends with me, and if you are willing to accept it with open arms I would love to be good friends with you…I have nothing against people that do use medication whether they use it the way I would or not (as long as they are using it legally), but I just think that medication is not really right for me right now…besides how crazy expensive it can be…

…haha yeah…just wondering if anyone actually made it all the way to the end of this post…also, I decided I am tired of being a responsible adult…I kind of want to go back to elementary school where the most important decision I had to make was whether I would draw attention to myself by allowing the teachers to re-assign field trip groups after the groups had been announced when they realized I had accidentally been placed with the bullies, or if I would remain in the group for the end of the year field trip and just assume things would be okay (I selected staying in the group, and it wasn’t really that bad…not perfect, but certainly could have been much worse)…

I’m out of tune and that’s okay

(Alright–GoFish)

You know what happens when all you do between August and June is pretty much just either sit on your butt in front of your computer or lay down in front of your computer?…you get pretty out of shape…see, I am discovering this just now because…

(2nd year) I was living on the seventh floor and going back and forth to my room many times per day but refusing to use the elevator…example, Wednesday January 23rd, 5:20ish pm I go to my room (from 1st floor) to get some stuff then go over to the student center for Cru…I get there and realize I forgot something I need…back to my room in the res hall and back to the student center…repeat like 4 more times, and I finally have everything I think I need…and I am sufficiently distracted from what I intended to do (orgo homework before Cru started)…and check my email and someone emailed me like three times to say she wanted to talk to me…the same person with whom I had been communicating before heading to my room the first time…and because I couldn’t say no or suggest an alternative, I got up yet again to go talk to her…which I beat myself up for (figuratively, not literally) when I found that she had one question for me…one that could be very easily answered with a yes or no…a question that very easily could have been actually SENT in the email…or she could have come to me to ask…obviously she had no way of knowing I had been running around since I had seen her, but anyway, that isn’t the point I was trying to make–the point was that I was doing a lot more than just sitting on my bottom even though I didn’t recognize it…especially since I was also spinning in circles in the success center when I studying with my friends and I was taking frequent breaks from studying in the kitchen at the end of the hall (quiet but a few people/friends–perfect study spot) to walk to the bathroom to wash my hands…yeah…you know you aren’t focused when you need a break from studying because you got too dizzy…or because you tripped over a chair and fell into the wall and it kinda hurt…

(3rd year) I had lot B parking but unlike now how riding the bus is an exciting proposition, it seemed then more like an ordeal that made daily painful frost bite seem an agreeable selection…which means every day I walked from Lot B to school and back…even when it was excruciatingly cold outside, or raining, or hot, or any other uncomfortable weather situation…even if I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts and it was snowing…the germs on the bus (umm and/or my warmer clothing) were more intimidating than the idea of being outside like that…and once I realized that it would actually save time to just bike to and from school I started doing that most days, but even so I was getting some kind of activity, and was also studying walking the halls as I was at least a little less socially inept…and of course the whole elevator refusal thing…

(and then 4th year) I had garage parking. I had a corner that was mostly mine and that was all, and in not bringing excess attention to myself I primarily stayed seated, and even walking to the bathroom wasn’t that far. I no longer was afraid of the germs in the elevator. I downloaded a mobile banking app and never needed to bike OR drive to the atm…basically no need to do much more than lay on my bed or sit in my corner and study all day…

but I rode my old bike for the last time yesterday…and didn’t go very far because I realized how out of shape I was and how dinner time was approaching…and because my radio died a little over a year ago I used my old ipod instead…I am pretty sure I just put everything on my computer on there in high school, so there is a combination of the songs I like with all the ones I don’t really like but purchased because  they were on sale at Target and hadn’t yet mastered the concept that I wasn’t saving money if I was buying something I didn’t want/need…

“Psychology is the systematic study of behavior and the factors that influence it. In psychology 1 we will learn how to identify and correctly label other people’s sick, neurotic, pathetic behavior. Let’s take a look at Betty, a caring mother and devoted wife who believes the family dog was sent from outer space to conduct sadistic mind control experiments on her children. Betty’s not playing with a full deck. That’s because Betty is a paranoid personality. Why? Betty is insane. And then there’s Bob. Happy go lucky one day, kills his mother the next. Bob is a psychotic manic depressive. Why did he do that?  Because he’s insane…”

I really love ten minute university…each “class” is hilarious…”no more fraternizing with uncle monkey” “look at the color of your shirt. Same color, same team. Different color, different team.”

“When we have problems we want them worked out now, or later on this week if not sooner. But we should not sweat if he’s not answered yet, ’cause the very last minute isn’t late when God is in it”

This is from Eleventh Hour in the musical Estherday…I LOVE musicals…this is one of two “night” scenes…the other night scene, While You Sleep, I was a pillow dancer. That was a lot of work, but pretty fun…and it included handfuls of glitter if I remember correctly “While you are drooling, my God is ruling the world.”

“You look just like some sad cartoon, is that your life when you dance to the bully’s tune. Help…you better wise up better dance to the bully’s tune. The more you see you know it’s true. the world will tell you what to do, and don’t give in to the big baboon, and don’t give in don’t dance to the bully’s tune.”

I listened to this song (Bully’s tune–Michael Card) over and over third year…I loved it and although no one was listening with me, I think it was acting as my silent cry for help. I wasn’t able to let anyone in to know what was going on in secret, but I suppose instinctively I knew there was something very wrong…and even throughout the next year, I have been pushed around and threatened, and I pretty much had to continue to “dance to the bully’s tune” if I wanted to survive…and that is why I am thrilled that graduation is only two school years away…may there be abusive people in my life after graduation, certainly, but I now have the skills and background to shine light on the situation before it reaches crisis survival level.

“And so iron gates simply opened. His chains fell away like the sand…destroying dark dungeons of doubt”

This is pretty much what I imagine graduation to feel like…(He sends his angels–Michael Card)

“Sometimes my friends, well they sing a different song, and I’m not sure if they’re right or if they’re wrong”

(The B-I-B-L-E –Go Fish) IDK why, I just like this particular lyric…

Okay yeah, you probs don’t care about all my favorite songs 🙂

It’s okay to not be okay. This is a safe place. This is a safe place…There’s still hope here.

(Exhale–Plumb)

Summer is incredible…yeah, life is never perfect, but there are so many things that are hard to put to words about how good summer feels…sure, I am frequently frustrated with myself for wasting time and not getting things done and for being excessively messy or whatever other infraction I feel like is keeping my from living up to my own high standards, and obviously bad things happen, people die…but a bad event doesn’t make a bad life.

They may seem like little things, but there are so many things in my life that I enjoy, and in the summer I have the time to truly enjoy them just a little bit more than during the school year when I just can’t always afford to take the extra time to revel in the awesome little things…

I love sucking on goldfish crackers and eating aminal crackers, especially from the 4lb 14oz container of them. I love the time and freedom to analyze exactly what flavor of juice and what fruit I want to eat instead of going into autopilot mode and picking up whatever is fastest to grab…

I love admiring the sky. I love that traffic is a nuisance without feeling like a threat to my existence…this picture was supposed to show off the beautiful sky…however I apparently overestimated my smartphone camera and it is mostly just a picture of rain and freeway traffic, but I still love it…(actually it looks like there isn’t much traffic…mostly because I stayed at like 2mph while everyone else sped up to 7mph b/c I was picture taking, and also because while it had been stop and go, the traffic cleared right after the picture was taken)…

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I love that I could take the time to drive around the block a few times in order to take this picture…(street names mostly blurred to take away your easy access to my location, but I LOVED one of the street names every time I see it…)

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I love that I can go wherever I want however I want whenever I want and do whatever I want…part of this is being home where the stupid school rules aren’t applicable. The other part of it is that although the OCD and social anxiety has been gone for a long time, old habits die hard…for example, I still instinctively take the stairs even if I have many flights to climb…but now I totally can go inside and sit on the bench or wander to the basement or sit in the break room or whatever else I want to do instead of my safe choices being only the backroom if no one else is around or my car when I am not on the job…I LOVE it! It is so incredible to be able to do whatever feels good for me to do. Freedom is amazing.

I love that less thinking is involved in deciding where I want to go…that sounds like the same as what I wrote in the previous paragraph, but it is actually very different…I guess another way to say it would be to say that I love that my choices are not based on as many what if’s…it was getting better by the end of the year, but even then, for example, if it was like 9:30am then unless I really really needed to go bathroom then I was probably going to wait an hour to when it would be less likely to see someone and any hurtful insinuations to be made…but now if I wanna go to the bathroom right now I don’t have a second thought about who I might see–I just get up…if I wanna get in my car and go somewhere (or just get in my car) I just do…not wondering if bad things will happen by just living life is so freeing…

…I am pretty sure there were a lot of other things I intended to write about…except a lot of things I stopped writing halfway through a sentence and couldn’t figure out when I came back to it what in the world I was trying to write about…

Carry Fire in My Heart

(Echo–Blanca)

4 Things that make me mad:

  • People that think that vaccinations are optional.
    • Not a single study has shown at all that vaccines were related to autism
    • Lots of studies have shown that vaccines are definitely not related to autism
    • Even if vaccines caused autism 100% of the time, here are your choices:
      • child with autism
      • dead child who also probably caused the death of some other people as collateral in the process
    • Spreading out vaccines only increases the amount of time your child is not protected from disease and also increases the amount of time your child can serve as a good vector for the transmission of disease…thank you morons for perpetuating diseases that we could have eradicated years ago if you would just turn your brain on once in a while…oh, I’m sorry, did you manage to realize I was insulting you? Well, you kind of deserve it for putting the rest of the world at risk by refusing to vaccinate your children in a timely manner.
  • People who are extremely rude and entitled…although I was never interested in retail pharmacy in the first place, my experience with retail pharmacy lets me know that a huge perk for clinical pharmacy is going to be not dealing as much with rude and entitled people…the thing with working in a pharmacy for kids though is that in order to help kids you have to figure out how to deal with their parents…and if the parents are that rude and entitled to a stranger, I can’t help but feel sorry for what the kid might be experiencing at home or be learning from that parent…
  • Any situation in which the person who was hurt is the one getting punished while the person doing the hurting gets to play the victim role
  • Abuse of anyone happening in secret (or, I suppose, not in secret)…but it’s even worse when it is happening to a child. It is NEVER okay to intentionally hurt someone, but it is even worse when you do it to a child. No one deserves it, but really? You are going to hurt a cute adorable child?

4 Things that make me really thankful