Monthly Archives: August 2017

I was ruined by the world but I blamed it on the Son

(Take the bullets away – We As Human)

 

I absolutely love this song…I found when I was pretty close to the bottom, and it was a good empathetic cry song. Now I adore it because it is also SO hopeful. I was resistant to the hopeful message at first because from my perspective, hoping was just a way to be hurt more deeply. It felt safer and less painful to separate myself inasmuch as possible from hope. Now I am ready to slowly give hope a chance again. It is scary, but I think it is good and necessary. Being hopeless is also difficult.

 

I also really connect to the screamed demand in the refrain “Take the bullets away.” Once a bullet is shot it cannot be taken back. It cannot change course. The pain cannot be simply ended. Yet I ask God and pray that he will take it away. I so badly want to go back in time to that Friday in March and open my email to something that doesn’t hurt so much. I want my dreams back. I want hope back. I think it would cause more problems than it would solve for me to die right now, so I am no longer praying every day for God to take me home, but I so desperately long for God to come back so that I can leave this place of pain. But I can’t have what I want. The train left the station without me leaving behind only my now impossible desires and plans. I know God works all things to his glory, but I don’t understand how putting me in this place could ever be for his glory. How could the deep pain of loss work for good? How could rejection be his plan? How could completely severing all ties connecting me to my dreams be something he allowed to happen? I feel so hopeless, helpless, frustrated, and alone.

 

Today in my frustration I screamed that maybe God doesn’t even want me to pray. Maybe God really doesn’t want me. I know it is really bad to think that and totally not the Sunday morning Christian thing to admit it, but y’all know I’ve never really been very competent at playing the social game and believe that sometimes it is okay to just be myself. So what prompted this outburst besides just the grief that I can’t outrun? Well…I was listening to the VBS tape “Treasure Hunt Sing and Play” and had just flipped the tape over to side 2. The first song on that side is “Let us Pray.” (Let us pray let us pray, everywhere and everyway. Every moment of the day it is the right time. For the father above, he is listening in love and he wants to answer us so let us pray). Except it only got a couple lines in when it suddenly stopped. At first I thought maybe something had accidentally gotten recorded over the top of the tape or something, but when nothing was happening a few minutes later I investigated further and this is what I found:

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Yep, it’s broken. And I got frustrated. Sometimes it seems like everything I want gets taken away from me.

 

But I need to believe that God cares. I need to believe that he loves me and has power to work his plans in my life. He really has done a lot even though I still really hurt. Maybe I do still cry more days than I don’t, but most of the time now after a couple minutes I can calm down and be okay. And last week I was writing about how I wanted three things that logically shouldn’t be THAT big of a deal, but seemed just as impossible as everything else in life. Those three things were a decision on a church to attend, a friend in or near the city in which I live, and an opportunity to serve. I am now 97% sure I have chosen a church. I kinda sorta have a friend and I don’t think I am just her little charity project. I had an opportunity to serve. It might have only been a couple hours rather than a continuing relationship like I’ve had elsewhere, but considering God did all those things that seemed so overwhelming in a week, I can’t be too picky about how he did it. I am so thankful for what he did do even though it is super easy to see all that he didn’t do.

 

I am definitely still struggling and two hours on a Saturday of almost fitting in isn’t really enough to totally eliminate loneliness from my life and certainly doesn’t fix the grief, but when you are fighting to get through every day, sometimes even the littlest things can seem really big. A kind word on a hard day can make an enormous difference. Also, today I saw a baby who I would approximate at around 6-9 weeks old. Super adorable. Although I longed to hold her, even just getting a chance to see her made my heart feel good. Birth to 3 months is really my most favorite age, especially the first few days and weeks of life. I would love if someone wanted to share their infant with me. I super miss my infants in the nursery.

My aching heart tries to hang the stars alone

(Renovate – Christa Wells)

 

Linkup from: http://holleygerth.com/setting-down/ on traveling light

 

Recently I saw a post about waiting until 8th grade to give kids a cell phone and heard about it on the radio too. That seemed crazy to me. What in the world does an eighth grader need with a cell phone? They go to school…which is equipped with phones, generally with at least one or two dedicated solely to student use. They go to friends’ houses and their friends’ parents should either call when the kid is ready for a ride home, or show the kid where a phone is to make the call. They go to sports practices where there is a definite end point where the parent should show up to pick them up or if there is an emergency the coach can call for help. Until someone is driving alone frequently there really is no need for a phone…I know I am not exactly typical in terms of my communication skills and preferences – yesterday I forgot my phone at my apartment all day (7:30am to 11pm) and I really didn’t miss it…but either way I have always used observation of other people communicating to learn how to do it, and via observation I know that a phone isn’t really useful earlier than driving…I kinda wanted one sooner, but my reason for wanting it was really more of an avoidance of communication than a desire for communication. I thought maybe if I had my own phone I wouldn’t ever have to answer any other phone and I could talk on the phone at school without anyone looking at me.

 

There are a lot of things I don’t really need…lol, I travel light. When I go somewhere overnight, all I really need is clean clothes for the morning, a toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner…the deodorant that stays in my car…and my laptop (and usually my phone if I remember and maybe my journal)…

 

But I don’t need to do it on my own. Monday I was crying and stopped to rollerblade because I needed a break (and I was smart enough to not go up any hills I wouldn’t be able to get back down…yay!!). Tuesday I was writing about how in addition to the grief itself I was struggling because I didn’t have any friends or community or anything within an hour of where I lived…Then later on Tuesday God finally brought me some community. It is amazing how two people taking at least a little interest in including me can make such a big difference. I am not yet ready to share with them about what is going on in my life, but having someone include me meant so much to me. It was exciting.

 

There are lots of other things going on in life right now, but there was at least a couple really awesome positives in my week. (Other one was seeing my super awesome amazing incredible best friend who is the best thing that ever happened to me).

 

But I am Fine

(Cool – Scott Krippayne)

 

I am always fine because protecting people is important to me. I am always fine because being vulnerable and trusting other people is extremely difficult after you’ve been through emotional abuse complete with gaslighting and pitting my friends against me. I am always fine because after living under a gag order for three years it is hard to remember the door of the cage is open and I can walk free. It is so weird that the little cage of isolation almost feels more safe and homey than freedom.

 

Truth is important to me, but it is true that I am fine. People’s hearts and lungs stop every day, but my heart is still pumping oxygenated blood…without ECMO or other high level medical support. Would I much rather be dead sometimes, oh yeah, but even then, I am fine…I’m not okay…but I am fine.

 

I am often not okay. I feel so alone sometimes, but I am fine. I am exhausted, but I am fine. The pain of grief is still an open painful weeping wound, but I am fine.

 

Sometimes I am more convincingly fine than others…some days I can’t stop crying. Other days I am so sure that maybe someday I’ll be okay…it is hard. So hard. Life is still so incredibly difficult.

 

I just ate a piece of chocolate and the wrapper said “revive the art of conversation.” It made me mad. I don’t have any friends close to where I live and I don’t know how to find friends and I crave connection but there isn’t anyone with whom to connect. And even with the people I do have outside of this area, grief took away my ability to connect and communicate. I’m not as silent as I once was, but I do know that stressors can take away my voice again, and it is frustrating. I fought so hard to be able to speak and then I was abused and made to feel that I shouldn’t use my voice. I fought so hard to be able to speak, but sometimes it feels like it was all in vain when I lose it again.

 

TBH, there is a positive in the grief…not really sleeping for so long has made it feel almost normal to be so sleep-deprived. That makes nights spent working until 11pm not feel quite so hard.

 

There are always hard things in life…Last Thursday (August 10), was 9 years from the day I went to “the new church at home.” One week from that day I met my best friend…that is awesome…but it also seems like circumstances stemming from the change of churches is the whole reason I started in counseling and ultimately ended up in an abusive relationship. I would be a totally different person if that hadn’t happened and maybe I would have a residency. Maybe someone would actually want me. But I can’t change the past. What happened is over and I hated that I couldn’t change it then, and thinking about it now certainly won’t change it either…but sometimes the days and years run together and it feels like all that was yesterday. I think I am connecting from the pain of this situation into the pain of that situation. On the positive side, it is not a re-experiencing flashback kind of experience, but more of a soulful longing for something different. A deep ache of reminder of the pain. Changing churches changed my life…but I survived. Yeah, this situation is different, but maybe if I survived that then I can survive this too.

 

Speaking of church, I have some bad news for y’all…it appears we have missed the rapture…

I found the rapture!!

lol…so I was screwing around on google maps streetview and look right there…the rapture started in 2012 in Farmington. It appears we have been left behind…how unfortunate!…okay fine, or google maps just randomly has a blurry section of the street…

 

Wanna know something else unfortunate? This…

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Yeah, my last 54 ounce bag of skittles got empty… I s’pose that happens when in the past few months skittles have been one of the few things that sounds good and have thus been used for both emotional support and caloric support. (Don’t feel too sorry for me yet…I still have a few smaller bags left…).

 

One last thing: I found a crawly bug on the floor in the bathroom when I was getting dressed this morning. I didn’t scream. Really, I am so mentally exhausted that it was just one more task for the day. I got rid of the bug in the toilet without even being too worked up about it. I guess there’s another positive.

But in your eyes there’s only grace now

(Lauren Daigle – How Can it Be)

 

I am a processor…almost always that means a couple days after a conversation I will finally be ready to respond…and sometimes that means that months or years later I start understanding things about myself.

 

I don’t give myself a lot of grace. I realized today that a big reason for that is because of how I’ve been treated in the past. When you deserve praise and instead are told how big of a failure you are, you learn that anything less than someone else’s version of perfection is absolutely unacceptable. You learn to put yourself down because it doesn’t hurt nearly as much if you have already started the verbal beating for someone else to finish it. That doesn’t make it okay, but it does give me some good understanding to work on changing that.

 

I need a lot of grace. I haven’t really unpacked yet…sure, it isn’t super obvious because most of my stuff is shoved in boxes in the closet so unless you open a box to find two pencils, a solitary sock, a pile of graduation announcements, a sponge, and a ball with a smiley face on it, you would never know that this isn’t unpacked…I also haven’t run the dishwasher since moving in. I haven’t chosen a church, and I haven’t drank any milk.

 

I look at my life right now and see so much failure. It is hard to believe that God sees me through the lens of grace and thinks the world of me. Sometimes it is hard to believe he cares or wants me at all. Sometimes it even feels like he has given up on me. I know it isn’t true, but when my world is disintegrating and I can’t find anything to hold on to, I guess the truth about God gets a little twisted.

 

On the positive side though…I discovered the social worker on rounds actually wasn’t the scary kind…as it turns out she really is the kind that is a discharge planner…she just got asked about a psych consult not because she was going to do the consult but because she needed to coordinate that happening prior to discharge…I was super thankful to realize that, and it made rounds a lot better. I wonder if that is what the ‘I’ in the middle of LCSW means…I tried to look up what the different versions of the social worker license mean, because I always thought if it had a C that meant clinical which meant the person was the counseling kind of social worker, but all I could figure out was that LSW was a social worker with a bachelor’s degree…all the rest of the licenses it sounded like were pretty identical and I could not figure out what the differences were…even the other one without a C looked like clinical was an option with that license just as much as it was for the ones where C was in the title…

 

Also, wanna be proud of me? I had to talk on the phone with a psychiatrist because I had a medication intervention to attempt on a behavioral health unit patient. I did it! It really wasn’t so bad…professional interaction…the fact that I recognize that as something that could be very hard for me on a bad day though is one more reminder that this isn’t just going to go away.

 

Grief is very intimately linked to the abuse, and grief is very unpredictable. Yesterday I was at the bottom. When I was alone I was only not crying for five minutes at a time. It was a rough evening. But this evening I am not rockin’ it or anything, but I have had my lunch leftovers (yeah, I know, corollary: I failed to finish lunch), dinner, and snack. I’m at least thinking about running the dishwasher and finding the dirty laundry and doing that…obvi it still depends on how I am feeling tomorrow whether it gets done or not, but the better days are really encouraging. They remind me that I am a survivor. And I definitely feel a lot better about myself when my life is in a little less chaos. Maybe not today, but someday I will be okay.

 

I did a really stupid thing

(Cage – Plumb)

 

So yeah…I did do a really stupid thing… so I’m too short to be able to see the numbers on my combination lock on my storage unit. So…ummm…my solution to that issue was to climb up and use the front of my car as a step stool…I am so stupid. Umm, yeah, I felt it kinda fold under my weight…I guess the more even pressure of wind or whatever is what cars are made to support, not the uneven weight of my feet. I am an idiot.

 

But, it is not the end of the world…there are a lot worse things in life than a slightly dented car…like having to stand next to someone who’s nametag says social worker on rounds…I really do know cognitively that I am not under any threat during rounds, but my body and mind don’t understand that. It was not an ideal first experience with rounds at my new job. I can say that while this job is not my favorite that the clinical shifts are definitely a LOT better than the order entry shifts though even if I do sometimes have to stand next to a social worker…I guess that kinda tells you how frustrating the order entry shifts are…if I could do only clinical it would be a lot easier to hold on…but anyway, I guess that was one more reminder that I can’t put the whole abuse thing behind me without actually doing some work to really get over it. I guess it really isn’t something I can just avoid forever.

 

Also, speaking of really stupid things…here are some of the things I have done today that were stupid…leaving bubble wrap with big bubbles on the floor in the kitchen – when you are walking to the shower in the morning and suddenly here “breaking” sounds it is a bit disconcerting and concerning. Also, skating while pulling a wagon behind me – it doesn’t give me much ability to slow down without running into something…lol…Also, standing on the hinges of said wagon to reach the lock since clearly I have now learned that I really really shouldn’t be standing on my car…

 

So, I guess that moves either a step stool or a lock with a key instead of numbers up the wish list so that I can stop being so dangerous…but on the positive side, I was smart enough to remove my skates and socks before trying to stand on the wagon, and I also was smart enough to not try to skate under the garage door as it closed…

 

Further in the song Cage, there are lyrics that say “why you tryna pretend that I’m fine that everything’s okay someday I’ll be alright.” I feel like every day I put on a mask and play my part in the play of everything is awesome, but it feels like it will never be true, that I will never feel okay again. I want to be happy. Not just superficial like momentary happiness from like a really awesome one-time event, but deep down life-happy.

Lotta Work to Be Done Here

(Renovate – Christa Wells)

 

Sometimes the grief comes in waves, and when the tide is high it is a reminder that although I have certainly come a long way, that there is still a lot of the work of grieving to be done. It can be quite discouraging that I’ve been working so hard for so long yet still hurt so much.

 

I read an article yesterday and the introduction stated that grief, like pregnancy is a whole body experience but without the cute baby clothes and due date. That summed it up so well. Grief is so hard, but unlike a pregnancy, there isn’t a date to look forward to when it will all be worth it. It just feels like an impossible pain that will never end. That is where I am right now. I almost couldn’t go to church today because I couldn’t stop crying.

 

The article went on to talk about how there are three things that are really important and really difficult in grief: eating, sleeping, and breathing. It was really validating to read about someone else who lost 25 pounds despite having access to plenty of food. I claimed a 25 pound weight loss in the first few weeks, but in reality it was more than that…I just don’t know how much more, but it could very well have been 10-15 pounds more than that…the person writing the article talked about how people make nurturing your body seem hard because of all the trendy diets our culture debates about, but it’s all about finding your balance and in grief that might be chocolate and I don’t remember the other thing she said most nights…I totally get that. Just getting anything in was so much work that while some people worry about whether gluten was trendy or to be avoided this week, I was busy worrying about whether I was going to break 500 calories today (or some days whether I’d even break 100). I had all my favorites: skittles, goldfish, animal crackers, jolly ranchers, peanut butter, Nutella, cheerios, and there were days I laid it all out on the bed just willing myself to eat something. I am doing a lot better now, but there are still times the tide comes in too high and I struggle. Today I had a package of three breadsticks in my refrigerator. I was having trouble with lunch and figured I’d heat them up and at least get the bread group in since that’s the base of the pyramid (yes, I know, nutritionists sa the pyramid doesn’t exist anymore. They can shut their faces. I learned the levels of the pyramid and I’ll use them). Three breadsticks on a plate was overwhelming and I just couldn’t, so after trying to figure out how I was going to get lunch completed, I figured even just one breadstick would be a start, so I heated one up and told myself to please just try one bite. You don’t have to eat the whole thing, but I’d like you to try…and I slowly ate the first breadstick…and repeat for each of the other two. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do and if three breadsticks is too much you just have to slow down and have one breadstick three times. Nearly three hours later I have almost finished lunch.

 

Next was sleep. Also a huge connection. The author wrote about how at a certain point she would have done almost anything to get a full night’s sleep. Oh yes. I am doing a lot better with sleep, but I certainly know how it feels to desperately need sleep…and I guess that’s part of how I knew that I needed some time before I could continue counseling.

 

And just breathe. It is essential in life, but sometimes it is just so hard. Sometimes every day is a challenge just to get up and get through it. But I am brave. I keep doing it.

 

Switching gears a little bit, this morning after I finished a youtube video of a song about not knowing how to write songs, the next video youtube suggested was about kids from hard places. There were a lot of really good quotes.

 

“Your pain matters your story matters.”

 

It felt really good to hear that. Sometimes I still don’t feel like I am worth much, and I certainly don’t think my pain matters, but it was still good to hear even if I wasn’t ready to believe it yet.

 

“Pain that happens in a relationship can only be healed in a relationship”

 

I guess this means I’m gonna need to face counseling again, but not today. I can’t. I am terrified of trying counseling again…but I guess it is time to admit that someday I really do need to figure this out…I think I need to get past the grief first or at least get further towards healing from the grief, but I know I can’t just push it aside forever.

 

“When you understand a hurt brain you aren’t screaming “why are you doing that,” but gently asking “what happened to you” with compassion.”

 

I loved that. It is easy to see things that don’t make sense and just think I’m a little weird, when in reality I’m just doing my best with the background of my past experiences.

 

“Without a voice you have three choices, fight, flight, or freeze.”

 

I get it. It’s really hard to express upset feelings without words.

 

“The task for all of us is can I leave you and can I come back. The hurt in our lives is from one of those places being broken.”

 

I don’t quite understand what this means, but I like it.

 

“When I know what my needs are and they have been met now I know what yours are too, but I can never be empathetic until it has first been given to me.”

 

So true. You can’t fill someone else’s bucket when yours is empty. Until you fill your own bucket you can’t fill anyone else’s.

 

“If I can’t connect I at least need to survive.”

 

I guess it’s true. Another one that sounds really good, but I’m just no smart enough to get. The speaker went on to say that we are here because we are survivors, and I really liked that too. It is a good perspective to have. Yeah, life might be really hard right now, but I have survived. Every day is a success!

 

“When you’ve had trauma you are more sensitive to blood sugar.”

 

I think maybe this is true. The speaker had a super biological explanation for this that I totally didn’t follow…but I have noticed that during third year I was getting increasingly sensitive to my blood sugar level going down and therefore relied a lot more on sugar for emotional management. It was super funny though, because then the speaker said to make sure people who have experienced trauma are fed and watered every 2 hours. Lol…but it is important.

 

“God is a perfect parent and he has some pretty broken kids.”

 

I like this too…a perfect parent perfectly loves their children…even though we are super broken…

But I Just Could Not Understand

(The Reason – Lacey Sturm)

I don’t understand why I try so hard just to fail. I don’t understand a lot of things…but I do understand this:

hope

This is a quote from “The Healing Path” by Dan Allender. This is the second quote about hope I’ve posted on my healing path pinboard, and it might be my favorite. The other one talked about how giving up is easier than trying, hoping, and being disappointed time and time again, but while that is true, I love that this one speaks not just to easy/hard, but to danger/safety. We are wired to fear danger and seek safety, so it makes sense that there is a very definite limit to the amount of hope I can handle. No matter how much I want to hold onto hope that there is something better out there and life won’t always be so hard, I can’t right now.

From my perspective the best advice I could give anyone is want nothing, plan nothing, expect nothing. If you have no desires, expectations, or plans then no matter what happens there is nothing that can derail you too far. Things might be a little disappointing or frustrating, but will never be soul-crushingly devastating.

For a long time I have expressed desire to be just like everyone else. Interestingly, this video

popped into my inbox as something my twitter peeps liked a couple days ago and I realized, guess what!! I got what I wanted and ce ne m’a fait pas content. (It did not make me happy). Yep, apparently 80% of people are dissatisfied with their jobs. Unless someone can find me a project or something else to do besides spin in my chair the majority of the day, I am in the majority of people. I need something that keeps me busy and makes me feel like I am contributing. When everyone can go to lunch and I can continue to everyone’s job at once and still be a bit disengaged you know there isn’t enough work to do and I need something else…add that to an environment where I get pretty close to a grand total of zero of the patients I really wanted to work with and you end up with a girl who is frustrated because she is stuck without any way out.

Also, I tried something recently that I didn’t think I’d ever do again. So, long story short, I saw a link on facebook for something that looked from the link like an online community for hurting people. I thought maybe that would be a safe place that might really help me. Unfortunately, it is a counseling platform, so for the first time since the abuse I was willingly entering a counseling relationship. It was terrifying. It was good and it was bad. It was good because I have always believed in facing fear. It was good because once I finally a couple weeks later got enough courage up to actually hit send on the first message, the counselor tried really hard to show me that how I was treated was wrong and that she believed me and didn’t blame me for it, and I think she really wanted to be able to help me get over the grief and the abuse. But it was also bad. Being involved with a counselor was terrifying and brought back the hyper-alertness from when I was really deep in the abuse. I wasn’t really able to engage because it was so scary, and eventually it got to the point that I was pretty much totally back in that place of being abused and add that to the grief and it was something I just couldn’t do anymore. I reached a point where I was not really sleeping not because of the grief but because of the hyper-alertness that I couldn’t turn off to sleep. And then I had a problem. Girl is not a quitter. Girl wants to not be defeated. And girl really couldn’t do it anymore. Girl made a very hard choice and hit the quit button. I wish they could label that button like unsubscribe or stop paying or graduate or really anything else that doesn’t feel like I’m doing one more thing wrong…but nope, it is labelled quit. Anyway, I hit quit. I guess the counselor didn’t notice and wrote another reply. And that was when I knew I made the right choice. I got the notification. I sat down and did my panic-cry thing, got up, slammed the computer shut, and ran out of the room. That is not something I can handle long term. Maybe someday when the grief is more recovered I’ll be ready to try again to get over the abuse and issues with trust that the abuse gifted me, but to protect myself I needed to stop. When I broke free of the abusive counseling relationship a few years ago it was the first time I really wanted to die…and I was plenty safe because at that time I was so upset that laying on the floor was just about all the effort I had to exert. So especially considering the grief I am dealing with right now at the same time, I knew I needed to make a change before I ended up in a place where I wasn’t going to be safe…and since I don’t know how to make the grief go away that meant the counseling had to go away. And you know what, quitting might feel like a failure, but it is really something to be proud of. I made a choice to go against the flow to do something good for me. And that’s awesome.

So yeah. It isn’t really a failure, but a huge success.

One more thing. One of the youtube channels I follow wrote a song, and not the lyrics themselves, but the concepts behind the lyrics until the end describe my life so well. And the end was so full of hope that I had to start thinking maybe someday I will feel okay. Maybe it is okay to have dreams and to hope.

“I’m nervous about writing songs. I’ve never done it before.

People seem to like my videos, but what if my songwriting blows?

I’d like to write a song that will help a million brains.

Inspire and encourage them when they need it the most, here’s just one tiny problem:

I have no idea how to write songs.

I can barely play the ukulele. I should really practice more often.

But even if I could play the ukulele, there’s still one problem…

I really don’t know how to write songs.

Oh it’s hard when your dreams exceed your skills and what you want to do exceeds your grasp.

There’s only one solution: learn…and probably practice.

Get really good at being not very good, enjoy falling on your face.

And maybe eventually (there’s no guarantees) but someday you’ll do what you dreamed.

Yeah, someday you’ll accomplish your dreams.”

So yeah…starting in January I was interviewing for residencies. I was really nervous and hadn’t really ever interviewed for anything before…well okay that’s not quite true. There was an interview at another school for scholarships, but I think I failed that interview…not to mention I had almost no chance anyway…but yeah.

People really liked me at work and my preceptors on rotations were impressed with me and loved working with me and really appreciated my work. Everywhere except at school I was loved and appreciated. (Side note, huge success to realize that outside of school I really do have worth).

I really really wanted to be hired somewhere and to make a huge difference to the patients there and to make my coworkers excited to work with me…okay, and I wanted to enjoy it too and have opportunities to grow, but I was thrilled to be able to make a difference. I wanted it so badly…but one problem: I didn’t match in phase I. I was really upset and crushed and frustrated and decided it was all my fault that I probably just wasn’t good at interviewing and should practice more, when in reality I don’t think I did anything wrong the first time…and even if I could interview well I just felt like no one would want me. And I didn’t get a residency in phase II…or the scramble.

It is so so true that it is really hard when your dreams exceed what happens in your real life. It hurts so much.

Sometimes to feel better I might need to realize that I can’t change my situation. I can’t (immediately anyway) change how much it feels like my heart is on fire with 25 knives stabbing into it over and over. What I can do is get used to this and let this become my new normal. It doesn’t mean that I have to be totally thrilled with feeling like this and totally thrilled with the loss of my dreams and totally thrilled with my job…

And maybe I can someday be ready to hope that I won’t be here forever or maybe even if I am mostly here forever it will not always be so painful.

Youtube video here: https://youtu.be/BmiS6atdAi4

Spin around in a circle

(God Made Me Shine – Gadgets and Gizmos orangeVBS)

 

Like what has become almost usual…totally unedited, please excuse any random sentences that make no logical sense and let me know if I said something dumb I should change…and be super specific because girl is clearly not at a super thinking stage of life and needs specific directions…a generic there is a problem might elicit a response from me but it probably will be a response that is a non-sequiter…not sayin’, just sayin’…

 

Sometimes it seems like I’ve gone so far only to end up back in the same spot.

 

That’s pretty much what this week is going to be about…lol…

 

We could call it VBS hangover…but if you’ve been following me for a while you know that isn’t really what’s going on…just a convenient excuse…

 

What’s really going on is that like always, once I get past the initial complete lack of emotional control then as long as I stay really busy I am okay like the majority of the time…maybe not happy, but at least not devastated…and that is totally worth something…but clearly it is not very possible to stay really busy all the time (not to mention that eventually exhaustion would take me back to a bad place…sleep deprivation is like the number one cause of random anxiety flares…

 

VBS week except for Tuesday when I had my day off for working the weekend was a wonderful reprieve…then Friday came and suddenly there was lots of free time in my schedule again…like the entirety of Saturday…and I was right back where I started. Sure, I needed (maybe still need) to catch up on sleep because working the 2:30-11 shift for a week already caused some sleep deprivation which was compounded by staying up late all week for VBS…and even if I could sleep in (which I couldn’t because I was getting up at 4:30 to get showered dressed and in the car to get to work on time), I am a morning person. My body needs three times as long in the morning to make up for sleep time lost at night whereas morning hours lost are barely noticed for the most part until near bedtime…and that three times sleep needed was my body’s rule before we consider the very real possibility that I may still be behind on sleep from the long stretch of time the grief was causing me to end up with minimal sleep…I have been a wake up at 2 for a drink and hopefully fall asleep again until closer to 5 kind of girl for as long as I can remember, but with the intense grief came not falling asleep at night, waking up at all the wrong times when I did fall asleep, but not necessarily ready to drink anything, and definitely no falling back asleep…and now I still am not always thirsty when I wake up despite dehydration, but at least most nights I am getting sleep, and that is what matters right now…

 

Speaking of after effects of grief…girl has still been working hard most days to eat enough food (and to survive on more than just skittles and cookies…)…I’m not sure with VBS if I was finally just feeling good enough that it all caught up to me and I was making up for all the food not eaten for a while, or if VBS was really somehow burning that many calories, but I was actually eating plenty of food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still constantly hungry…although it isn’t exactly fun to be hungry, it was amazing to see that part of my personality back. The real me is still in there even if right now I am still fighting for my life back. I realized that I don’t have any idea how I am doing at maintaining my weight since I don’t have a scale…there is a strong chance based on how my clothes fit that I might be down a little from my driver’s license weight, but considering how much I am eating, I am pretty sure I am not as low as I was…of once VBS was over, so too was the increase in intake…so…we’ll see…a scale is right there with oil and the kind of milk that makes real pudding on my things to buy list…(FYI, non-dairy milk like very vanilla soy or dark chocolate almond will make delicious chocolate goop, but it will not become the consistency of pudding even if you only use like half the amount of milk…)…I think maybe it is the casein or something in milk that isn’t in non-cow milk that makes the pudding become pudding…except I’ve never bought that kind of milk before because it tastes gross…speaking of milk though, I wish rice milk wasn’t so expensive, because I always have half a mind to buy it because it tastes like sugar, but if I can buy a half gallon of almond or vanilla milk for like $3 or so that lasts me a month or so (yeah I know I don’t drink enough milk…I don’t drink or eat enough of anything right now)…or I can buy a quart of rice milk for like $5 that’ll last me only a couple weeks, the choice isn’t that hard…

 

I wish every week could be VBS week. Besides just the aspect of having at least a little infant time every night, staying busy was SO helpful. If every week were VBS, I’d really only have the weekends to deal with…and I could probably justify not finding a new church here…

 

The first church I tried I walked in and almost cried. It probably wasn’t my smartest idea to go to the biggest church first when I hadn’t graced the presence of a sanctuary since before I graduated (I’m a nursery girl at the church near my parent’s house)…the church I went to wasn’t even really *that* big, but combine the fact that I was surrounded by strangers and was lonely with the fact that if I weren’t a failure I wouldn’t be there in the first place, and it wasn’t exactly a recipe for success. No big deal…it was the furthest one away on my list of places to try, so not the end of the world, but it wasn’t exactly a good experience to sit alone and have no one introduce themselves and the welcome desk was unmanned…

 

This week I went to a church that I really wanted to be a good option. I really thought that was going to be the place I fell in love with. It started out okay. Someone said hi, made conversation introduced herself and invited me to eat a snack (yep, they speak my language and know the way to my heart…or at least what was the way until grief messed everything up)…but the rest of it wasn’t so great. No one invited me to sit with them. The things I come to church for are the music and the community (with an opportunity to serve being tied into community). At this church there weren’t going to be good options for either…so the music, picture a 93 year old trying to be trendy and that’s what you’ve got…youth group songs that were losing their popularity by the time I was in middle school, but sung not quite with the right rhythm and at least four times slower than the original artist sang them and really really quiet…and it wouldn’t take too long to count how many people near my age there were in the room…I’m not being picky like she’s 40, he’s 10…I mean it was more like she’s 40 weeks, he’s 10 decades…and then after music there was a completely unstructured time for probably at least 10-15 minutes to talk to people…except, umm, I don’t know anyone to talk to. To their credit, a few people did say hello to me before moving on to someone they knew, but it was awkward…

 

In the evening I really needed something to do to not be alone with myself and my pain and my thoughts so for some distraction and to say that I tried, I went to a worship event at the first church I tried. I figured at least it was music…This time someone eventually sat next to me, took interest in me, and introduced me to other people in the church including someone close to my age…it was good to feel at least kinda accepted, but at the same time it was a little scary because now they expect me to come back, and the closest church to me was the next one up on my list to try out and so now I feel torn between the possibility of my first friend if I go back or the possibility of an even better option if I don’t…I probably could make it work to go to both services this week, but I don’t think that is a good long term option…especially since the sermon part of church I have trouble sitting still for, and doing it twice in one day is not going to be feasible for more than just a rare occasion. I know that even with lots of friends, grief feels profoundly isolating and I know that it is worse when I really am totally separated from friends, but I mean, maybe I’ll find friends somewhere else…but at the same time maybe I won’t and should jump on this opportunity in case it’s the only friend I’m ever going to have here…and someone I just met is no going to fill the holes left by my best friends who have loved on me when I was in crisis…but if I’m stuck here I don’t want zero friends forever and ever.

 

Mostly unrelated, but I was watching a video today and the person in the video said something like some kids were born prematurely which means instead of a nurturing relationship they are introduced into the world with the opposite, a medical stay. That definitely incited a visceral reaction in me. A NICU stay is NOT the opposite of a nurturing environment. A NICU stay is an extremely nurturing environment. Everyone there is there because they love the amazing people they take care of. Everyone is there to love on you and meet your needs and do whatever is best for you. You are celebrated. Your whole family is celebrated and cared for. Even though I wasn’t allowed to record names on my monitoring forms for school when I was working in NICU, I could tell you right now the names of almost every single patient I cared for (not a small number of patients, and while they were there they were like my own children in how much I cared about them…and I still care now and wish I could ethically check in with them and their families. Am I saying a NICU stay is the preferable introduction to life and better than going straight home, absolutely not. I am just saying that it isn’t one or the other, and the NICU is just as nurturing as a home, and maybe more nurturing because there are so many more people to love on each child and they are there for the express and only purpose to love on those children. They don’t have other competing responsibilities…okay, stepping off my soapbox. NICU is where my heart is, so I get ltilte passionate about NICU topics…

 

This evening has been really hard. Depending where you are it is either National Night Out or Night to Unite tonight…which I didn’t know until I logged into facebook and one of my friends posted about it…and I started crying…Another thing that was stolen from me. I have volunteered with a particular Night to Unite with my best friend for the past few years and this year, obviously, I couldn’t…even if I’d known about it, I didn’t get off work in time that I would have gotten there by the time it started, much less early to get ready. While partly it is probably good not to be there since I don’t usually eat there even though I sohlud and I did at least eat something here, that tiny consolation doesn’t do much to heal the wounds in my heart. Child and best friend time are irreplaceable. Lol (most definitely not literally), it’s a good thing my mom doesn’t live in my apartment, because I am totally considering going to bed right now as soon as I finish posting this and hoping I’ll magically cry myself to sleep like instantly so I can escape from the pain…I am not happy.

 

Why didn’t anyone want me? Why do I have to be here and keep feeling this? When does this end? Haven’t I paid my dues for hard things long enough yet? When do I get to wave my white flag?

 

Let’s see…positives of grief: getting used to functioning on low levels of sleep…less girl issues…yep, not worth it. I’d rather feel a little extra bad from lack of sleep the week or so a month I work evenings than a lot bad from grief every day…and I’d definitely rather feel almost dead a few days a month than so strongly desire to be dead every day. I just want to feel real joy again…

 

The weather here today was a lot like me…super sunny, but randomly lots of big raindrops gently dropping down…I wish my whole self could be sunny, but as much as I pretend on the outside, I still hurt so much on the inside, and the tears still come. I’m never going to be good enough. No one is going to want me. I feel alone and hopeless and sad. I would very like a hug and someone to just be with…and a time machine to go back in time to before life hurt so much. Pretty please? I only like real cherries and not those maraschino cherries that go on top of ice cream, but sure, I’ll throw a cherry on top just ’cause if I can have all my wishes come true…

 

I am frustrated that my dreams had to die. I am frustrated that I am stuck here. I am frustrated that God says no to everything I want. I am so frustrated. I just wanna go to forever home and forget about all this stuff…

Lol, (still not literally…not even a smile right now)…the song Tell Me by Carrollton just came on spotify…”Feels like I’m a nobody, wonder if I’ll ever amount to much. Seems no matter what I do it’s never gonna be good enough. Should I just give up?” Yep…sounds about right…