Monthly Archives: June 2017

This is how it feels when your dignity’s stolen when everything you love is leavin’

(Not gonna die – Skillet)

 

So I started writing this post a sentence at a time in between studying on Saturday evening. Can I just say how amazing physical pain is at covering up emotional pain? So I took a quick break to skate a few minutes because I couldn’t sit still any longer. I am not quite sure what happened except that suddenly I found myself on the ground. I am pretty sure those stupid pink bumps on the ends of the sidewalk are at fault…I fell so hard that someone a block away heard my body make contact with the ground. I am angry that my beautiful red skates are visibly scraped up, but aside from that and a little embarrassment, emotionally I feel better than I have in months. Physically though…I couldn’t figure out how to take a picture of my back, but there is one pretty deep cut and lots of scrapes and abrasions on my back. My left hand got a decent scrape, and it hurts to breathe…I will totally take this over the emotional pain I have been living with though. This is SO much better. I am super stressed out because I take my law exam on Wednesday and had been living in survival mode so long that I hadn’t even started studying until Thursday, but that is almost nothing compared to what was going on before. So I edited a little, because I am doing awesome right now. I am not happy about my job situation and all that, but right now I don’t want to die…which makes the lyric I picked yesterday for the title even more appropriate!! Funny how this worked out so well…

 

I have never been phone-addicted, and I used to frequently leave my phone turned off in my backpack for days at a time so you wouldn’t think a non-functioning phone would be a big deal, but it kind of is. Grief is isolating and I really need connection. Even if I have nothing to say, not having ability to communicate feels even more isolating…

20170624_150456

Since at least September my phone has had at least minor issues getting signal, but I chalked it up to being in areas that just didn’t have good signal (which doesn’t fully explain it since some of those areas I am pretty sure I had signal other times I’d been there…but you know, signals change, right?). In March I sent a text to my manager and found out she had never received it. This past week for hours at a time my phone would have no service then work for a few minutes randomly. As of Friday afternoon, my phone had no service whatsoever until two minutes on Saturday afternoon (long enough to send one text) and then nothing. The ATT store isn’t totally sure what’s wrong but knows it would cost more to fix it than to get a new phone. So I had the idea to put my sim card into my old phone…good idea…right? Except that I discovered that this genius idea wasn’t going to work: the sim cards are completely different sizes.

 

Friendship is already hard and then I couldn’t even have the ones inside the phone. Long story short, five dollars later my dad’s old phone is working and is now connected to my phone number. I am not a fan of his phone at all…even before you factor in how much I do not like change, but I am contactable now. There is a good chance any texts or calls sent since Friday (and possibly sooner) never got to me, so I’m just hoping no one sent anything I really needed to know…

 

I was running late to church because I couldn’t find my keys…I don’t know how I lose things…

20170625_074547

oh wait…this is one of the chairs on my side of the kitchen table…there is a bike helmet, two sets of wrist guards, a water bottle case (but no water bottle) a messenger bag, a purse, my lunchbox, a bottle of sunscreen, an advertisement, a pile of papers, and a slew of other items…and you don’t even want to know what my room and my corner of the basement look like…It is really the phone’s fault though. AirBnB sent me an email so I had to go look at my airBnB profile and read the reviews because I was lonely because no phone and that made me feel a little bit connected…then I was messing around and discovered an airBnB of someone I actually know…and basically, if I hadn’t gotten distracted on airBnB, I would have started getting ready for church sooner and I wouldn’t have been running late over trying to find my missing keys…

 

Random thought, but I saw these what might be wild turkeys a week or two ago and that was kinda cool.

20170619_17513520170619_175138

Advertisements

Am I worthless? Am I filthy? Am I too far gone for a remedy?

(We As Human – Take the Bullets Away)

 

I’ve been living with the intense pain of grief for a long time…and before that the abuse…and long long before that the bullying. I know rejection. I know being unwanted. And so many other hard things life has thrown in my path. I am familiar with pain, but it seems to follow me and want cuddles like a small naughty puppy that I can’t get rid of. It doesn’t feel like there is a way out. I tried to create a timeline of when I could get back to my dreams. It was good to try to create an end to work towards, but even on the more magical completely unrealistic timeline, I still will be fighting through this for another year…and if we’re being really honest, even if we pretend this timeline is practical (it’s not) I am not naïve enough to believe the pain will completely disappear upon starting a new path. Sure, it will likely be super helpful, but it won’t be like flipping a switch. It won’t remove the previous rejection and wipe the slate clean. The more realistic timeline is a minimum of two years. The idea of holding on that long is overwhelming.

 

It is hard not knowing why no one wants me. It is hard feeling so much rejection. It is confusing to be chosen for a big girl position even over people with experience when I was rejected from all the transition roles I tried to get, especially when the same organization didn’t even give me an on-site interview for the residency to which I applied. It is hard hearing people tell me how great I am and then rejecting me later. I’d rather you were just honest and said hey we don’t like you instead of leading me on just to let me be crushed later. I’d rather instead of being polite you told me what was wrong with me so that I could change and improve. Am I so worthless that I do not even deserve the respect of being told the truth? Am I really so lousy that there is nothing I could do to even be close to good enough? And why doesn’t God love me enough to finally just say yes to one of my prayers and let me leave this pain? It is hard to reconcile this pain and God’s power with the goodness all-knowingness of God.

 

I’ve heard that when a Christian woman wakes up in the morning the devil says “oh no, she’s up again.” It’s not just the devil thinking that when I get up. It’s me too. God doesn’t seem to ever want the same things that I want. I keep crying and praying that God will take me home because I can’t take this pain. I can’t keep living like this…and God keeps saying no. I know God cares and I know God loves me, but it is really hard to understand how it could really be love to leave me here. It hurts so much. Why won’t God take me to forever home where I don’t have to deal with this? I have already struggled so long and I don’t want to keep fighting. I want to go home. When the bravest thing you do every day is get up and keep going, it is hard to keep up with life. I FINALLY got my authorization to test from the Board of Pharmacy…and I know that just trying to make it day to day has drained so much of my energy that I really haven’t put nearly enough into studying…and since it took so long to get the authorization, I probably only have one chance before my job gets taken away. I feel like I am probably going to fail…then I’ll have nothing but an expensive apartment in a city where I don’t have any close friends…

 

But I keep fighting. I keep trying. I get home and my ears hurt from the multiple media sources at full volume to which I am listening as I drive to minimize the tears so I can see where I am going to get home…because I can pretend life is awesome or at least tolerable when I’m with people…but put me alone in a car and it is very possible I will struggle – time alone with my thoughts and emotions, kinda trapped there. So especially if I’ve been reminded of the pain I am pretending doesn’t exist prior to getting in, I am likely to have a hard time. Grief doesn’t have a calendar. Grief doesn’t know that it has been over three months and is time to give me a break. Grief doesn’t have empathy. Grief doesn’t know I am exhausted and just want to be able to move on and have this whole thing disappear.

 

How am I? I’m doing the best that I can. I know the basics of life enough to know what I need…and God has been doing good things even if he didn’t give me what I want. I usually burn practically just by thinking about going outside, but I didn’t wear sunscreen and biked to my friend’s house and back last week and the burns were pretty mild. Yesterday, I did put on a little sunscreen but was outside about 4 hours (biked around 40 miles) and didn’t reapply…lol, you can look at my hands and see exactly where there was zero sunscreen on though…but anyway, last night I knew I was on the border of being too dehydrated (vs just dehydrated enough to mute some of the pain and tears as long as there aren’t any reminders). So I gave myself two choices: water or ice cream…I didn’t want either, but the trying to be a good girl half of me was stubborn long enough to win, and I did eventually pick one of the options…picking nothing seemed so much easier, but that wasn’t one of the choices. Protip: ice cream is always the answer. No, ice cream didn’t solve my problems and I was too far gone for the sugar to help pull me back in, but at least it did kinda sorta make me feel a little better about myself because I was also getting calories in at the same time…

 

There is a long road in front of me. Soon I will be moving a couple hours away and be even more alone. I am thankful that I make friends easily, but worried because I can’t exactly expect someone I just met to support me the way that the friends I have made over multiple years have…and I can’t expect to immediately be invited into other people’s circle of friends as the new girl. It is hard being new. Some people are willing to let you join their friend group, but other people are like the girls in my grade at the new church who never really let me join their clique. Sure, the moms sometimes tried to invite me, and sometimes I tried to push myself into their circle, but I wasn’t dumb, I knew that most of them really didn’t want me there and it was easier for them to preserve their little friend bubble by writing me off and keeping me out of the circle. I probably should have asked to join the girls in the grade above me who were a lot more welcoming and had already invited me in…but when I had the opportunity I was still in denial that I couldn’t just go back in time and make this whole nightmare end so besides the fear of using my words to ask or even of having someone ask for me, I denied that because I didn’t want to admit that I would be there long enough for it to matter. It wasn’t until almost my senior year when I finally let go and realized that this was for real and wasn’t changing any time soon…and by then the girls in the grade above me were graduating and moving on. They invited me to the grads group, but that didn’t solve the Sunday morning problem. (But the grads group was a lot better place for me than youth group ever was. Smaller and more inclusive was super helpful for me…no one cared that I was the farthest behind academically…it was awesome until the rest of my class joined and it gradually became more and more exclusive…a few years later I took my brother and he noted that every time he said anything it was as if he hadn’t said anything but the person next to him could say the exact same thing and people would respond. I hadn’t really noticed much because I didn’t talk much anyway, but it is definitely true. They would express excitement that someone new was there and then completely ignore whomever was not in their little friend group). Lol…all that to say that I appreciate however much my friends are willing to tolerate me while I am a lousy friend in return, and I do know how blessed I am and that having friends like this is nothing to be taken lightly.

couch

Speaking of my new place, last week I bought this couch (yes and the pillows in the picture)…might not have gotten the best deal of anything, but it is red and the place I am getting it from seemed to have a super flexible delivery plan which is helpful not immediately knowing when I’ll be available to receive the delivery…

You’ve gone so far keep going

(Here Comes the Comeback – Danny Gokey)

 

It was only a handful of months after breaking free of the abuse that I first wrote a note offering forgiveness to my abuser. I wasn’t allowed to send it, so it sat in my folder waiting for the day I graduated and could send the letter. It was edited a little over the years as my writing style changed, but despite the fact that I graduated over a month ago, it has not been sent. Why is it still there?

 

Well…umm…there are actually two reasons.

 

The biggest one is that at the point of graduation I was very strictly in survival mode. I am proud of myself that I got at least most of my thank you notes written and sent out…and TBH there are still a pile of them on the floor in my bedroom. It kinda feels less embarrassing to just skip some people than to send them this late…surviving and sending thank you notes to people I appreciated was more important to me than sending a note of forgiveness to someone who hurt me so deeply.

 

The other one is that forgiveness is a gift that the pain in my life made it harder to give. When an interview topic comes to difficult interpersonal relationships, naturally the first thing that my mind encounters is the abuse. Besides the fact that it is probably not recommended to identify oneself as an abuse survivor in the interview, I wasn’t allowed to talk about that situation. Before I could come up with anything else (also difficult to label a situation as difficult when compared to the abuse), I was swallowed up in the pain of the abuse. Definitely worst in the one-on-one interviews in a big room as that somewhat approximates the primary setting in which the abuse occurred and in which any pause on my part was going to be interrupted with an expression of disdain, leading to even more vivid memories. I do think this is something that made the interviewing process less successful for me. Secondly, once I put more thought into it I realized that although I felt like “everyone” thought I couldn’t be a pharmacist, in reality while there were a few others who were a bit negative, she was the primary person telling me I couldn’t do it, telling me I wasn’t good enough, telling me I’d never make it and no one would want me…She said so many hurtful things to me, and while I was for a while able to not believe it and defiantly continue to follow my dreams to prove to her and the world that I really was good enough, not matching made the make believe go away and I was faced with the reality that she was right – I wasn’t good enough. As it turns out, I did get a job that is probably more high level than what I was looking for which indicates that I am good enough…even though the rejection and failure to obtain one of the ones I wanted still makes me feel inadequate.

 

So the grief is intertwined with the abuse, and the grief is something I still experience deeply. It is difficult to forgive when the wound is so fresh – like I saw on a quote somewhere once, “stop asking me to forgive you when I am still coughing up water from the last time you tried to drown me.” Actually, I think the quote used the word trust rather than forgive, and I think that is where I am getting stuck. I am so low on trust that forgiveness feels like trust even though I know that forgiveness does not mean that you ever have to trust the person again…I found a couple blog posts about forgiveness recently, and they spoke some truth into my heart…here are some key concepts. Trust is earned, but forgiveness isn’t. You can forgive without trusting. Forgiveness comes with healing. It is hard to heal in a warzone, so the first step towards healing is to run away from the pain. Forgiveness does not mean that others are not accountable for their actions or lack thereof, and it doesn’t mean we should let ourselves be abused again. It doesn’t mean that we have to take a victim role, nor does it mean that we ever have to get along with someone again, but it means that we are giving the right to take care of justice back to God, the only one who really ever held that right. Forgiveness doesn’t mean denying the reality of continued offenses, is not based on other’s actions. I don’t want to stay stuck in hurt and resentment, so it was a helpful reminder to read that forgiveness starts with a mental, not emotional, decision, doesn’t mean forgetting, and isn’t based on pressure to create acceptance. Forgiveness is for the benefit of the victim, which is why it is perfectly okay to not even share the forgiveness. Grace and forgiveness do NOT require remaining silent about the bullying and abuse. This is super important. I don’t think hiding the abuse as a secret does anyone any favors. Pretending it never happened just makes it easier for other people to get hurt. It is the powerless who need protection and defense yet too often it is the powerful who receive that defense and protection. This was the primary response that I experienced. I was powerless and expected to play the role of a lemming keeping my mouth shut and following along with whatever while the person who had so much power was treated like royalty. There was someone trying to reach me, but one against many is an uphill battle. Forgiveness does not demand superficial reconciliation and preclude justice. Superficial reconciliation brings only superficial healing, but true healing is messy and hard and may include the justice system and punishment depending on the transgression.

 

My mom recently reminded me of when I was a teenager who when told to call for a ride home from school when I was ready said I couldn’t possibly do that because I wouldn’t know what to say. Even when given one sentence to use I screamed and cried that I couldn’t do that and it was too hard…that is how bad the social anxiety was…I honestly don’t remember it ever being that bad even though I definitely can imagine how that must have felt…my memory of phone fear starts with only being okay with calling my parents and only when I’m alone and not being watched (yeah, my first cell phone could have been just as effective as a long-distance walkie talkie for the first few years I owned it)…but considering I was someone who by college couldn’t always use her words to say hi to her friends, I don’t doubt that it was true that I couldn’t call home for a ride…(although it is very possible that there are also other components of that story that my mom is leaving out such as the real reason I was struggling being that she wanted me to ask to borrow someone’s cell phone for that in which case knowing what to say to her on the phone was the least of my concerns…)…anyway, the point of that story is to say that although I have grown a lot in my communication abilities, there is one other much smaller reason I haven’t sent the note…when my stress levels are very high, my comfort with communication is decreased, and communicating with my abuser is one of the last things I am interested in doing, so actually sharing that forgiveness was a final stumbling block in the way of reaching the ability to forgive…it seems so silly to have written that note so long ago and not to use it, but forgiveness is not words on a page.

do you see a rescue or a deeper kind of hurt…just when you’ve lost the will to live

(drifting – plumb)

 

Life is still really hard. I still want to be done with life. I have been telling God what day I thought would be best for me to die, but on the somewhat positive side, I have also resigned myself to the fact that God is most likely going to say no. And I will have to deal with that. It is hard when my whole life I have been working towards one thing and that one thing is gone. Everyone told me I wasn’t good enough and it feels so much like they were right. I realized to have any chance I probably have to wait at least two years before re-applying, because besides not being at all in my personality, it probably isn’t kosher to be like hey, I know I started training like two days ago, but would you like to be my reference for the job I actually wanted more than this? That was a really hard realization, but it also really helped because it put a timeline on getting back to my dreams.

 

I recently read this article about helping people in crisis. The author’s explanation of each concept wasn’t necessarily exactly in alignment with my opinions (though some weren’t far off at all), but the concepts themselves seemed pretty good.

 

  1. Stay calm – so true, if I am already in crisis, I don’t need you to add drama to my life. I don’t need you to make life more difficult. I need someone to be an anchor in the storm. That doesn’t mean you don’t show emotion (also not necessarily good) but that you don’t freak out and make this about you rather than about me.
  2. Understand – no one (probably) wants to feel bad, but when we do it can feel very isolating. Grief takes a lot of energy that makes it hard to have anything left to do anything but survive. Crisis makes us less good friends as the primary focus is on survival. When it feels like no one gets it, especially when for a reason that feels shameful, I feel that much more alone. Taking a minute to listen and try to understand is a huge gift to me.
  3.  Touch them (if they’re okay with it) – I love hugs and stuff. In most situations, it makes me feel safe. It is a good way to help me feel less alone. IDK about this for everyone though since I know some people hate being touched.
  4.  Stay with them – grief is lonely and isolating. It is super awesome to be willing to come into my life and try to help me, but in my story of abuse and rejection, it isn’t just the loneliness and isolation that return when you leave again. Although sometimes I am so desperate for help that I want any possible thing I can get, but most of the time I feel like it might be better to have no one at all than people who leave again…but at the same time I know I don’t really want that, because I really need people even if they aren’t always exactly what I need. I know that studies show that support tends to last about a month and at most 3 months, but grief or other crises tend to last at least a year. That is a minimum of 9 months of isolation while the pain is still very raw and very intensely painful. I just need more hugs sometimes…or just a quick text hi. I finally figured out that was something that would help but then I never actually completely followed through on making sure it happened…I asked…a couple times…and then I ran out of energy to devote to a task that wasn’t as directly survival based.
  5.  Ask why they haven’t – so this is referring to why they haven’t hurt themselves in response to the negative emotion. While I am not sure how helpful this would be to me, I think it is a good question to ask to gauge safety. On a smaller level, eating and drinking was SO hard at first and such a chore (for that matter, even now sometimes I am okay in that arena and sometimes I am packing goldfish and skittles in my lunchbox and calling it a success that I am eating something even when half of that pathetically non-balanced lunch comes back home with me), but almost every day I tried really hard to get three meals into my mouth. Why didn’t I just do what was easiest and just not even try? Mostly because that might worry people and draw attention to me, and I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself and I didn’t want to hurt anyone. So, yeah, I am a major people-pleaser. I am pretty much always okay, especially when I am not. It is good when people can understand this and see through my mask to see that just because I am smiling and laughing instead of crying at the moment doesn’t necessarily mean I am not still fighting really hard just to make it through every day, and it is also good to realize that because of that, when I am in crisis, I might be a lot more sensitive to the perception of letting people down, so recognition is huge if I am doing something right. On a bigger scale, why have I not killed myself even though I want so badly to not be alive? Because I strongly believe that life and death are in God’s hands, and my religious beliefs tell me it is wrong to hurt yourself in any way. This probably makes me a lot safer, but also means there should be a big red flag going up if my faith becomes less important to me…luckily even when I couldn’t believe God cared or was even good, my faith was still super important to me.
  6.  Make a plan – consistency, structure, routine, and predictability really help me in life, and even more so in grief. Helping me know what to expect is really helpful. Waiting to offer something to me until you are pretty sure you can make it happen is awesome so the change in plans later doesn’t crush me. Remember that what seems small to you can be a lot bigger when it is the one thing that I am counting on to help me through the day, and when a minute is an eternity, the idea of a generic ‘maybe later’ is a forever that doesn’t even register on the time scale.

 

 

Moderately unrelated, but I also read this post recently where this mom claims she did a study and found out that she is invisible. Her logic is that she intentionally only wore one earring every day for six months and no one said anything…ummm…dude….what an idiot. First, if anything you proved that the earring, not yourself was invisible. Second, people are generally paying attention to YOU, not analyzing your attire. Third, your ears are on opposite sides of your head so depending on how good of eye contact you are using they might have no way of knowing that one of these things is not like the others. Fourth, people are generally respectful and mind their own business. Why should they point out that your appearance is less than perfect? And especially by the end of the six months if they had noticed they probably figured you liked it that way…yep, people be dumb…but using that logic, then I know that I am also invisible. I wore a shirt with a nice oxycodone stain on it a few days ago and no one said anything…I don’t know what bright drug manufacturer decided that oxycodone should be bright red, but I do know that whenever I spill it, particularly when I spill it on myself I do not appreciate the color…it stains…on the positive side, I mean, my shirt wouldn’t have been stained if I hadn’t caught the bottle that I lost my grip on. Because I did grab it, I only lost like a mL of oxycodone. I lost it all over my shirt and the counter, but at least I didn’t lose almost the entire bottle on the floor…

Like a warm waterfall wash over our wounds

(Safe Place – Kristene DiMarco)

I am more of a Caribou girl (especially because Caribou has a zillion more choices for caffeine free drinks), but I went to Starbucks today and got a Pokemon Go Frappuccino. The girls working there didn’t know exactly how to make it, but I showed them the picture on the menu on the website and they made something up that at least looked mostly like the picture. Sugar works pretty well usually to dull emotional pain for a while. Plus I was proud of myself for using my big girl words to ask for what I really wanted.

There are a lot of things that are really really hard about everything going on in my life right now. Here are two of the things on my heart today as things that I am having to leave now that I have accepted a full time job away from the home in which I’ve lived since second grade.

First, I will be spending a LOT less time at the hospital at which I have worked since 2009. (I’ll find out tomorrow if I can stay at all). Besides how so many people there are my friends, I was really proud to work there. The organization has some really amazing caring people who do incredible things for kids and their families. I haven’t ever experienced another facility with the same level of care for and about each other. In fact, I’ve asked questions at interviews in which I didn’t get to experience interactions and had people respond as if I was crazy to think that an employee would stop to make a patient or family feel welcome and important or that there might be deep partnership and/or respect between employees in disparate departments. A couple weeks ago I was having a day where not a single person had insurance already in our system, and I’d had multiple frustrating conversations with insurance companies when I had found the information and discovered that the insurance company wasn’t covering the medication for a stupid reason that I couldn’t get them to change…and a foster parent came in with the children she was fostering without any insurance cards and medications that I knew we should absolutely not “pend” despite the pharmacist I was working with pressuring me to do it to get them out the door faster. Getting people out the door is not a reason to pend medications. I figured out what insurance company their coverage was through and called to get the information to get their medications covered. The mom was so thankful to get the medications covered, and I offered to give her the insurance information in case he needed it for another pharmacy before she could find the kids’ cards. She was almost crying happy tears when she told me that this was the reason she came to this pharmacy – “because you guys always go above and beyond to help us.” People recognizing how hard we are working to provide excellent care more than makes up for all the rude and entitled people that I also serve. I love being a part of an organization that provides care that meets more than just the basic physical needs.

Second, I will probs be leaving the church that I have been at since August 10, 2008. It is more than just holding little babies. I did absolutely love holding a 2 month old for a good part of the morning today while watching and managing a room of other kids of varying ages, and I could totally get used to doing that all day every day, but holding babies isn’t the whole reason I am there. It is about pouring into the lives of kids (including infants) and their families/parents. It is awesome to have found an area to use my leadership skills and childcare skills. Sure, that was one of the things I did at my old church, but this being a bigger church, there are more opportunities. I want to protect the privacy of the kids and families lives I am involved with, so I can’t share too much detail about any situation, but working with kids for a long time I have been involved in a lot of really difficult situations and had a lot of kids who really needed some extra love. Although there are a lot of them, it never becomes less heartbreaking to hear a crying preschooler confide why she didn’t come with her parents. It is one of those things you never want to hear but at the same time really want to hear if the kid needs to talk. It is a huge honor for a kid to open up, and to give kids in these situations a safe comforting place where it is okay to be sad and scared. Not going to lie, for some of these kids finding out whether directly from the kid or indirectly from a guardian definitely explains the behavior I am dealing with, but when you work with kids you pretty much have to have a thick enough skin to understand that most if not all little people are not trying to be difficult and are not trying to be disobedient. Their behavior usually has a pretty clear origin if you can find out (even infants though it is going to need to be a guardian telling you since they can’t use words yet). There are so many little kiddos stories that I hold in my heart. I wish I could make it okay. I wish we lived in a world where every child could grow up with their loving bio mom and dad.

I guess this should probably make me realize that the things that I am grieving are so stupid compared to the things some of these kids are facing, but while I can hold these kids’ stories in my heart and I can sit with these kids, it doesn’t really take away my personal pain. Sure, I am distracted from my own pain while holding their pain, but that isn’t the same as my pain going away…

I wanna go back

(Wanna go back – David Dunn)

 

I was rollerblading today and was thinking that I should be happy. I love my red skates, but they came in the mail shortly before the first match day. They became something I used for just a couple minutes during the day to induce enough motivation to get something in my mouth. Maybe all I’d end up with was a chicken strip, but it was more than the big fat nothing I was eating without that. It made it more of a chore than a fun activity even though the reason it probably worked is that I was having little fun…well, that and I found that if I could be in motion I could handle things better.

 

But I wasn’t happy. I was crying. No one can tell me what I did wrong in the residency search, so I don’t know that there is anything I could have done differently to make people like me, but I wish I could go back. It was really hard and stressful to do all those interviews, but at least then it seemed worth it. At least then there was some hope that this was simply a necessary hurdle on my way to achieving my dreams. I’ve had to jump over a lot of hurdles to continue running towards my dreams before my dreams disintegrated and the broken pieces were forced from my hands, the sharp edges cutting into my skin. The promise of my dreams in a few more years is what got me through the abuse and fallout throughout school and while I am now finally free of that, I am not free of the effects of being abused. Aside from that situation being raw in my mind when asked about difficult relationships and making interviews even harder than they should have had to be, it is also tied with this situation as it is a relationship in which I learned that I was never going to make it as a pharmacist and no one was going to want me and I wasn’t good enough and stuff like that. You can imagine that those beliefs about myself became more real when faced with the reality that it was true that no one wanted me.

 

It still hurts that no one wanted me. It especially hurts that the one place I had forever dreamed of working, and who had led me on as if they planned on selecting me said no. Sure, one place was finally willing to give me a chance, but I am still really grieving the loss of my dreams. All I’ve ever wanted was to do pediatric critical care in a dedicated pediatric institution, preferably one particular pediatric institution, and that dream had been narrowed to NICU or pediatric emergency care. Without a residency, it is difficult to get into pediatrics and is difficult to get into critical care. With a job I will likely have less flexibility to miss days to get to interviews. Also, with a job my contributions matter more, and missing days or leaving has a larger effect. I feel guilty thinking about trying again for residency next year. Also, I don’t know if I can handle going through the process and failing again.

 

So I have a basic idea of day to day life, but I don’t know where my life is going anymore. I felt like the only thing positive about me before was that I knew exactly what I wanted for a long time and was working solely toward that one thing. And I failed and now I don’t have that and there isn’t anything positive about me. If I couldn’t get a residency while I had something going for me, there isn’t really any chance now that I don’t really have anything special to offer. Why get me when you could get someone who isn’t such a failure, and who almost definitely has better communication skills than me? I don’t know if I should try again for residency immediately and feel disloyal or if I should stay a few years and get even further away from my dreams. I do know that I am pretty sure I won’t be satisfied long term having completely given up my dreams. I feel frustrated.

 

I want to go back to a few months ago before this pain, but I can’t. My only option is to continue to go forward. I still think the only satisfactory option would be for God to take me to forever home. It hurts so much to have to live this reality. If God can take me, but wait until after June 30, I won’t leave any holes in the schedule at my current job, and I won’t have yet started at my new job, so it’s not like they’d have lost that much on me. I wish I could just give up. I should be studying for the NAPLEX and MPJE, but the pain I still live with takes up so much of my energy and concentration that it still feels like too much to really study. I know it is very important, but important and having the mental ability to do it are certainly very different things.

 

It is very hard. The pain is a little better than it was, but is still very intense…but it has been long enough that the support ended. I need people, but I don’t have them. I’ve thought about planning a trip in the next few weeks when I have days off to the city where school is just to be able to see people even if not in the context of them being there for me. I think people wouldn’t want to see me though. At church they already turned off my access maybe like a week ago to the schedules and announcements. Being excluded hurts. I’ve been excluded a lot in life, and I’ve never liked it.

 

The book I was listening to today “The Night the Angels Came” by Cathy Glass mentioned that by talking about a hard situation, it starts getting easier…I think since for so long I’ve had so many things I wasn’t allowed to say, that I used writing in that way…but talking about it I feel like is probably so much better. (Oh, and if you are looking for books to read or listen to, I love the books that Cathy Glass writes. She writes stories about foster kids. Fostering and adoption are things that I would really like to do someday).