Category Archives: Day in the Life

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.

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…

Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s the middle of the night.

(Piece of Heaven – Go Fish)

 

I try to remind myself that with an eternity in heaven in front of me the time I spend in pain on Earth will be so small in comparison, but that is little consolation when it is hard right now.

 

When I am staying busy I can almost forget how much it hurts…but inevitably I cannot stay busy 24 hours a day 365 days a year. When I slow down the pain comes flooding back in. The pain tears me up inside and the pain overflows my body until I cry.

 

I took the NAPLEX today. I probably failed. I kind of care, but mostly right now the pain is so intense that I don’t care that much. I am basically in a dead end career-wise and every day is a reminder that chances are no matter what I do, I’ll never get to do pediatric critical care. On my NICU rotation I looked forward every day to coming to the hospital. Now I dread going every day and think all day about how much longer until I get to leave. I pretty much only treat adults – something that has never interested me. And when I interviewed they were all like everyone is equal and everyone rotates through every role…then I found out yesterday that isn’t quite true. There are two tiers and I will probably never be on the “clinical” tier. So once I finish training the extent of my code involvement will be making sure the cart gets to the right location.

 

I got a recruitment email from a children’s hospital today. I don’t know if the recruiter actually read my CV and understood enough to know if I actually have a chance at a position and I don’t know if the position would be something that is exactly what I want, but considering it would be working in pediatrics it would certainly be a LOT better than this. But I am stuck. I am responsible for a 1-year lease on an apartment a few states away from this hospital. I can’t take PTO which makes having an interview, especially out of state, nearly impossible. And it would be a big deal to quit a position within a month of being hired.

 

I want out, but there is nowhere to go. There isn’t any way to fix this. I can’t keep doing this. The hurt makes all the littler frustrations in life grow out of proportion. On Wednesday I worked a few hours at my old job in the morning and had a discount voucher for parking. The thing didn’t work. I know that the policy in that situation is that the lot attendant or security should let me out. The reason I have a voucher is that I pay for parking through the timeclock whether I park or not and I don’t have ID scan access at that hospital. Knowing this, the attendant should have let me out even if I hadn’t had a voucher (the voucher just makes it easier). Instead he demanded cash which I didn’t have. He acted like I was a criminal and an idiot for having a voucher that wasn’t working. After 15 minutes of back and forth of you need to give me cash and my countering that I didn’t have any over and over he finally wrote me a bill for eight dollars. Yes, I know logically that eight dollars isn’t enough to be angry over and that some people are just jerks because they can be and 15 minutes won’t kill me (unfortunately…) but I was seething by the time I got out of there. I had half a mind to find a way show up to the talk to the president of the organization time to express how upset I was. In retrospect, what I should have been incensed over was that this same thing could happen to a patient or family. That is completely unacceptable. Today at the NAPLEX as soon as I got to my seat I slipped off my sandals and then sat down to start my test. Two thirds of the way through I got a tap on my shoulder and the whispered command to put my shoes on. A million things were going through my head and I had to stop close my eyes and breathe to keep from crying. To feel safe I often need to be curled up in a small space and they took that away. Also, why in the world does it matter if I am wearing shoes…especially when it was totally fine for the first 2/3 of the exam?? Another thing that should have been a small annoyance rather than something that brought me close to tears.

 

I just want my life to be over. Why can’t God come back and take me home? Why won’t God make this hurt less? Why did God separate me from my dreams? Why do I have to keep being alive when it hurts so much? Maybe I could get into an accident on the way back to my apartment this evening and not have to be alive tomorrow. That would be preferable to living like this for the foreseeable future. Why didn’t anyone want me? Why can’t I ever be good enough? I just want to go home and be with my eternal daddy where there isn’t any pain forever and ever. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be alive.

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…

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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…

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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.

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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).

Rise above the hurt and listen to these words

(Beloved – Jordan Feliz)

 

Recently I have been re-listening to the awesome books “The Essence of Resilience” (Kathleen Parrish and Tanya Laurer) and “Resilient Grieving” (Lucy Hone). TBH mostly I’ve been re-listening because I needed something to occupy my brain during my breaks at work and I still had a few days left of those book downloads and don’t have any more downloads left until June, but they are really good.

 

There were a couple quotes from “Resilient Grieving” that I heard the other day while driving home (yes I was listening to a book and the radio at the same time in the car…if one thing is good, two is better).

 

“Let me not die while I am still alive”

The idea behind this quote being that while Trauma or grief events often completely change our lives making us a distinctly different person in the before than the after, it doesn’t have to mean that the rest of our life is not worth living. Although I do still believe that death would be better than this, it does lead to the next quote…

 

I have wanted one particular job and had one particular career path in mind since elementary school. The story I tell says 4th grade, but in reality I am pretty sure it was sooner than that, but the story was altered at some point because I was told it was more realistic that way. Anyway, the quote is:

“Option A is no longer an option, so let’s kick the s**t out of option B.”

I would say that I am a lot further along than option B. I think option B would have been getting a different residency in phase I (and we could probably break that down further to particular programs being B and others being other letters, but that get way complicated way fast)…Option C would be getting a pediatric PGY-1 in phase II. Option D would be getting any PGY-1 in phase II. Option E would be, well, there at least being a pediatric residency to which to apply in the scramble. Option F would be getting one of the residency programs to which I applied in the scramble…I don’t really know what letter I am on at this point, but like I mentioned previously, I am learning not to let go of my dream, but to let go of some of the pain. It is a very slow and non-linear process, but I know that someday this will not be the all-consuming factor in my life. I still remember the pain of changing churches on August 10th 2008, but I don’t think about it every day anymore. Most of the time if I do think about it, the thoughts do not lead me to feeling pain, and if they do the pain goes away quickly and most of it is more remembered pain than acute pain. I have to believe that someday that will be true of this situation and of my abuse…I think both of them are pretty well tied together right now, so they’ll have to be disentangled before one can be healed without the other.

 

After the first match, I wrote that I planned to get another residency and be the best resident they ever had and exceed expectations so well that other programs were jealous they didn’t have me. My mom saw it and wanted me to delete it, but I refused. Maybe that plan didn’t work out, but now I can be the best clinical pharmacist ever instead…there are some things I am giving up. Among other things, I am giving up staying close to my friends, I am giving up focusing on pediatric critical care, I am giving up teaching opportunities, and I am giving up being able to commit to leading my 0-3 year old VBS class. There is one thing that I gain though…I don’t have to do a residency project or a bunch of presentations this year. TBH, the residency project thing is the one part of a residency that does not sound at all appealing to me…well, that and some residency programs require going back to midyear, but it is possible that this job will also require that, so before I get too excited I’ll have to find out whether that is an expectation (or a strong suggestion…) or if I really do get to skip it.

 

Oh yeah, I wanted to wait until I’d actually been officially offered the position, because I unfortunately know that seeming promises of employment can fall through, but now I am ready to announce that I have accepted a full time pharmacist position. I was kinda hoping for a pediatric position (especially the NICU position to which I applied) and I was kinda hoping for a schedule with longer hours (like 7 on 7 off or 10-12 hour days) because I prefer having a lot of time off a few days than working a few hours every day, but I think I will like this position. I have very little adult experience, but that will make this a good growing experience, and my preceptor on my acute care (which I’ve been calling adult care) rotation at least got me to a point where caring for adults is still not my forte but isn’t so scary anymore. I know that I can, it might just take me a little longer to get to the right answer, and that is okay…and really, although it isn’t the path I wanted, I think getting adult experience will be good, because I definitely still do avoid checking prescriptions for kids who are starting to become adult sized. For NICU that is no problem at all, but for my other dream of emergency and because you can’t really only be competent in one area and make it as a pharmacist, it will be good for me to gain some confidence in treating adult sized patients.

 

And I have realized that while my heart is in pediatrics, I really do love pharmacy. Someone texted me yesterday with an adult pharmacy question, and I loved problem solving. It was a question that played well into my pediatric knowledge since it was a formulation question, but it was for an adult patient, so I guess maybe it also showed me that some of the things I love about pediatrics will make me a valuable resource in an adult setting.

 

So with the exposure I was working on…it actually went okay. It was really hard, and definitely intensified the pain that I still feel every day, but by the end of Monday it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was Sunday morning to be walking around in a logo shirt. I could definitely feel how much extra emotional energy I was using to make it through the day, but it will be worth it if the end result is after the down-trending now that I will have a few days while the shirts are in the wash is better desensitization and numbing to the pain. It might exacerbate the pain for a little while, but if it works how I want it to, it will be worth it in the end, and right now I have enough distraction in my life to be able to handle a little bit of exacerbation and stay relatively safe. I slept nine hours last night without even waking up at 2am like I usually do to get a drink…it makes it a little harder to get up in the morning when that happens since I’m too dehydrated to feel totally awake, but sometimes I guess my body needs that sleep because the emotional energy leads to real exhaustion. Post-exposure, I am doing really well. I did cry today, but I also had some moments when the pain was less crushing than it has ever been since the first match failure. I am really thankful for that. Right now I am struggling, but even a few minutes of not feeling so bad is a good reminder that maybe eventually this won’t be so all-consuming. Someday this will just be the way it is and I’ll be able to talk about it as if it is no big deal (even though it kinda is).

 

One last thing from Resilient Grieving that I missed the first time and I think is really relevant here is about Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). Growth doesn’t have to mean that you are a better person or that life improved after loss or trauma; The growth might simply mean that your path has changed and you are now going in a different direction. We are different people after grief has re-written our stories, but if all you know is PTSD you will live a self-fulfilling prophesy and your grief will spiral into PTSD. If you understand PTG or even if you have a spiritual background you are more likely to recover more quickly. The implication that loss could be beneficial is a painful thought, but the fact that it can change one’s direction is less threatening.

 

I liked that imagery, and agree that the idea of loss making me a better person is something that is like salt in fresh wounds. I like the idea that growth can occur but that it doesn’t make it okay that the pain happened. I don’t like when people try to minimize big losses with but look now you have this good thing…sure, but now you are essentially asking me to value whatever good you see that I have now over the good that I had before and value it as worth the pain it took to come to this place. I don’t like that. Given the choice, I don’t know that I would necessarily value these things more highly than what I had before or highly enough to suffer as much as I did for them. On the other side, it is undeniable that grief, trauma, and loss have changed not only who I am, but my direction in life…beyond the fact that there are still people who probably think I graduated from Drake University…To allow the concept of growth as a shifting of paths allows me to acknowledge that yes, I am growing without discounting that this isn’t what I wanted to happen and that the pain is still very real and very relevant. I am resilient and I am strong, but that doesn’t mean that I think being hurt is okay and it doesn’t mean that I never experience pain.

Even through the midnight hour the engines never rest

(Night and Day – Thomas and Friends)

 

Yesterday I changed the category title on my budget from “residency” to “job-getting.” Does it really matter when all of the money is coming from the same place anyway? Not really, but somehow it feels good and productive to attribute the expenses to getting a job rather than having to put them in the more specific categories and feeling like it’s just a waste of my resources…’cause that last $25 dollars was totally going to break the bank…lol..jk…it kinda hurt a little at the same time to let go of one more little thread connecting me to my dream, but I did it. Yeah, when the only therapy method with which you are super comfortable and understand well enough to perform on yourself is exposure therapy because you are a pharmacy grad and not a counseling grad, everything looks like an opportunity for exposure…Is exposure the right way to deal with grief? IDK, but it is what I’m planning on doing…I’m making this stuff up as I go. Someday I’ll even start adulting and update my linked in page…

 

I figured it was time to start getting a little more intensive in the recovery process because I wasn’t spending so much time just trying to be okay and make it through life anymore. I definitely am still fighting every day, but it is more internal pain that doesn’t spill onto the outside as much anymore.

 

I see recover as three stages. Stage 1: learn not to cry in front of people. Stage 2a: learn not to cry constantly when alone. Stage 2b: learn not to cry very often when alone (because never is hard to define…). Stage 3: learn to keep the pain away for most of the time most days (again, because never is hard to define, and for big events probably not a realistic OR desirable goal – it is okay to be sad about the big things that have hurt me in life. While stage 1 and 2 can usually be measured in months, stage 3 is measured in years. Okay, and if I am being super honest, it is definitely possible to fall from stage 3 back to stage 1 briefly since my primary mechanism of progression is numbness, so if the numbness fades I can end up where I don’t want to be – crying in front of people. I work really hard on becoming as numb as possible. I don’t really like being numb, but I like it a lot better than the alternative. Eventually I can usually gradually reduce the numbness and localize it to something that can be turned on when triggers might be present but turned off other times so that excitement can trickle through more easily other times. I am currently hovering between stages 2 and three which is why I decided it was time to start using exposure to conquer recovery. I am so excited to be hovering at least close to stage 3. I hate crying. The pain is so intense sometimes, but not crying is a good step in the right direction…even if it is 95% because the dehydration is a little bit out of hand right now…

 

This might be a stupid way to do things, but it is my way and I am going to do my best with what I have. In retrospect I perhaps ought to have waited until I wasn’t using dehydration as an important emotion-management tool, but that thought didn’t come until I was too far into this to give up…

 

So yeah, I really haven’t had trouble eating at all in a few days (okay, yeah, I really didn’t think this one through and should definitely have given it another week or two before trying this)…I am still struggling with fluids, but I am doing my best…besides, I know from that first week when I was on spring break that I can make it on minimal amounts of fluid, especially because I then drove all day and had only a couple sips of water which definitely was not nearly as much as I was losing through sweat…not to even mention insensible losses…

 

Because until last night when I was still working harder than usual because of that first intentional exposure I’ve gotten pretty close to back to a normal for me sleep pattern I’ve gotten at least the 16.9 ounces of water that my water bottle holds pretty much every night at 2am I am not too concerned because that means anything I am getting during the day is in addition to that. I know that is not really enough so I’ve gone back to drinking water mixed with apple juice. That was my saving grace in getting what I needed in my body every day at school…juice is usually a special treat that at home has always been limited to only one cup per day and I almost never buy for myself when I’m on my own, but desperate times come with desperate measures. The best ratio in my opinion is about 1\3 to 1\2 apple juice to 2\3 to 1\2 water. Filling my water bottle that way in the morning meant that I could get the fruit group for lunch without any extra work than just getting the liquid in my body and making it something fun made it a little more rewarding to drink it…and last evening I was back to using the juice and water technique to get myself to drink more because I knew I had been gradually getting more dehydrated, and I know that when it is starting to make me feel dizzy that it is time to get serious about fixing it.

 

But because I am stupid I still decided that today would be a good day to try wearing a logo t-shirt. I am still deciding whether the t-shirt is going to stay on all day. I know it is best in exposure to wait until the emotional pain is down to a 7 out of 10 (okay, so the real goal is probably 2-4, but ain’t no one got time for that). I also know that it isn’t that safe to drive at a 10 or more out of 10. Also, I know that it will feel like failure to not make it through the day which also isn’t ideal, but on the flip side I also know that I have definitely been just fine driving at like a 50 out of 10 when I could barely see through my tears…yeah, I probably should have let my friends help me figure out safer alternatives, but that’s not who I am. I wasn’t going to worry anyone and I wasn’t going to ask for help that would inconvenience anyone…especially with a situation that didn’t in my head have any practical solutions…My car couldn’t legally stay parked where it was the next day. My clean clothes and other basic necessities were not with me or in my car. There were probably homework things I needed that had been forgotten that morning in my room. I had my nightlight, but my alarm was still set to go off in the morning. I had pretty much my entire breakfast and lunch leftover but was going to need a refrigerator to keep it safe to eat the next day. So basically, the only solution was that I really needed to be able to drive to church to be with my friends and I really needed to make it back to my room for the night…and hey, I made it alive so it worked out fine! Like they always say, you need to learn to drive well and how to handle your car not for you but to avoid the other people driving poorly on the road. They just don’t say that sometimes that person driving poorly will be you.

 

I got up this morning not interested in eating bread, but very interested in cooking it and bringing it to work to share…luckily I realized in time that I didn’t have any evaporated milk. There are directions online for making it from regular milk, but I’m not sure how that would work with the choices I have: vanilla and light vanilla soymilk. It also would bring into question how much vanilla and sugar to subtract. The sugar wouldn’t be bad to calculate using the calories from sugar and googling grams of sugar per 1\4 cup, but the vanilla doesn’t have that kind of information available…and my guess is that both ingredients would be in higher quantities than I wanted in the first place…it is an interesting phenomenon that I’ve read about that when people aren’t doing well with eating or drinking that they take joy in feeding other people. I don’t really know why it happens, but I’ve definitely heard that it is common, so my experience of wanting to make bread seems to fit into that pattern…

 

There is always a fun quote written somewhere in the homecare pharmacy where I work. The other day I saw “When life gives you lemons, say YAY!! Free lemons!!” I really liked that. And that reminds me that I should probably stop writing and start packing my lunchbox.

The waves crash hard into the harbor…hit the ground in a pool of grace

(That’s Why God Made Tears – Matt Hammitt)

 

I don’t know where to start.

 

I still feel like I’m drowning, but I also feel so grateful for what I have.

 

I’m falling, but knowing there is a safety net below me of people who care.

 

Most days eating is absolutely no problem…not that sugar is a good way to tell since that is what I am most likely to be interested in ingesting, but I was thinking a couple days ago that the phrase “would you like a cookie” is kind of silly…the correct question is how many cookies would you like, and the answer is I would like to take a 15 right now and eat as many cookies as I can shove in my face in 15 minutes while messing around on my phone. Sometimes I pack and eat a meal like a normal person (or as normal as my meals ever are). Other times like this evening I had to admit that the best I was going to be able to do was a chocolate granola bar, a bag of butter popcorn, an orange, and skittles…yes, the protein group was missing, but I worked really hard and got at least the carbs, fruit, and calories in. That is still a lot better than some days earlier in this grieving process. Plus, I am weight restored.

 

On the positive side, I haven’t cried in front of people in a week…and that last time barely counts because it was my parents so I think it really has been 9 days. I still occasionally cry in private, but I don’t even do that every single day anymore. I KNOW that it isn’t “bad” to show emotion, but that doesn’t feel true. Being someone who has never wanted the spotlight and who would prefer to be as much a chameleon as possible and who avoided situations requiring communication like the plague, I learned to keep my emotion well-hidden to avoid stares and inquisitive comments. Although now I crave connection, community, and caring people with whom to share the burden, after spending way too much time with my abuser who made it very clear that showing emotion was something I definitely should never ever do, it became even more second nature to do whatever was in my power to hide what was going on behind the mask. I became even more fully an always okay person. Additionally, not being allowed to talk about what happened or the fallout and not being allowed to tell anyone I wasn’t allowed to talk, I further refined my hiding skills as those years ago I was so upset and there was so much chaos in my life yet I couldn’t let anyone find out because if anyone asked any questions I’d be stuck in the trap of not even being able to say that I couldn’t talk about it…and I’m not a liar so I couldn’t say I didn’t want to talk about it, because I did want to talk about it. I wanted that so much. I hated that my voice was taken away…so even the get out of jail free card people sometimes offer of just suggesting one may not wish to speak about something was an out I couldn’t accept for fear of losing the coveted prize of graduation, and without that, all the struggle would have been in vain…although it still kinda is since I can’t find a job anyway. But anyway, yeah, showing emotion wasn’t safe for a long time. It wasn’t safe because it intensified the abuse and then it wasn’t safe both because it gave her ammunition (not an emotionally stable student…not able to control herself…etc) and because it just wasn’t safe for anyone to know I wasn’t always happy all the time. I’ve always been sunny, but now it was survival.

 

I will be the first to admit, too, that not crying doesn’t exactly mean a lot…I also haven’t brought a water bottle to work which means that I am always dehydrated which is a skill I learned in high school to decrease the chance of crying. And the reason I don’t have a water bottle is two-fold. First, there definitely is the component of not wanting to cry in front of my coworkers again, and then there is also the comfort issue – bringing a water bottle exposes said water bottle to germs and also means that I’d have to be more careful with the headphones in my lunchbox. I also am working full time on top of trying to catch up on sleep, unpack, get all the proper forms turned in to take my licensing exams, applying and interviewing for jobs, and stuff. Staying busy with work is so good for me. Although wearing logos aside from the ones on my nametag still is outside my comfort zone, it doesn’t hurt so much to come to work anymore, and I do honestly still LOVE my job and my coworkers. It will be really hard to leave someday. I don’t want to ever have to leave. I want so badly to have the job I have been working towards since fourth grade. I know that ship has already sailed, but it hurts so much to let go. Right now I am able to mostly compartmentalize though, and come to work and pretend that everything is awesome, pretend that nothing has changed…until I take the licensing exam and become a licensed pharmacist the game of pretend continues to work.

 

When does this end? I still feel so hopeless. I want a job because having a job is what people say comes after college, and I do want to be responsible, but it seems like getting a job just makes things more complicated, because it is one more thing to deal with in the process of trying to get my life back on track and I don’t think any job will really satisfy me. Nothing can really offer what my dream job could, and even if it could, that wouldn’t take away the pain of the betrayal and loss. Will life ever feel okay again? Does the pain ever go away? It clearly isn’t as intense as it was, and I am learning to function better despite the pain, but I am so exhausted. I don’t want to live this way. It is so frustrating. Everyone says I am a strong candidate and then they don’t hire me. Don’t lie to me. Either tell me I’m great and follow through by hiring me or don’t bother getting my hopes up.

 

I had my first non-residency interview (in my life…) (okay, not true…there was also the scholarship interview at Drake way back when…and the interview into third year that barely counts since showing up meant success) on Thursday. It was okay…but I don’t feel like I have much of a chance against the people who actually have experience. They have a residency program and most of their pharmacists are those that stayed after completion of residency…why would they pay me as a pharmacist when (if I’d applied) they could have me for half as much as a resident, and why would they choose me as a pharmacist when they could choose someone who actually has experience? The position does have a lot of the things I want with the biggest negatives being not being the one job I really wanted and not being pediatric, but it is hard to be excited about a position that one I probably won’t get, and two even if I get isn’t really what I wanted in the first place. It feels like my whole life was a throw away if after all that I can’t have the one thing I wanted. It hurts so much.

 

I wove a really good network of support back at school over the past couple months and then I went home and I know I still need help putting my life back together. I still need people to speak truth into my life, people to encourage me, people to just let me coexist. I don’t really have that anymore. I really only have one close in-person non-circumstantial friend in this state. And mostly at this point everyone everywhere expects me to be over it and moving on. Grief lasts a lot longer than does the support even without moving across the country. I call this state my home, but heaven is my real home and I am so homesick for a home I have never visited. I still struggle with why my eternal daddy doesn’t want to bring me home and hug me until the pain goes away. To me love means wanting to be with someone and it feels like rejection by the one entity who is supposed to love me no matter what. What could possibly ever make this feel okay? Haven’t I been through enough yet? I want this to end.

Do you reach out and touch them?

(Dreaming Jacobs Dream – Michael Card)

 

I am resilient. I am strong. I am brave. I am alive,..but I am so overwhelmed.

 

The continued questions about post-graduation plans are hard and don’t go away any more quickly as graduation comes closer. I have been holding on for graduation so long but the glow disappeared what is now almost two months ago. And applying is SO hard…and today was the first day there weren’t “normal life” plans. And that was hard too. Going through the motions of life gets me through the day. Sometimes I have to have life feel normal just a little bit. It is so hard. I need people so much.

 

In motion I am okay, but stopping I am not. It doesn’t hurt as much when I am in motion. So I was okay-ish most of the day until I had to sit still without music on to get more sunscreen on. Then I was crashing. I knew I needed to be in motion, so I didn’t even stop to get my shoes back on my feet. I just picked everything up and started walking. At this point I only had 20 minutes to be calm enough to use my big girl words with my friends. When there were five minutes left, I stopped and put my shoes on and like immediately got a text from my friends and could hold on for a few more minutes.

 

I did a really good job. I tried really hard to use my big girl words with my friends…It helps so much, SO much, but I was already so worked up that as soon as I was alone again I was back to falling apart and knew I couldn’t be safe going home. There are a lot of ways that going home could go wrong if I’d tried right then, so I didn’t.

 

And sometimes I’m a baby. Thumb in mouth, audiobook on my headphones, Sleep Sound in Jesus album playing on the laptop, skittles sharing the mouth with my thumb. In another hour I was okay…but so exhausted. There isn’t anywhere to sleep here. I looked. Well, okay, there is multiple somewheres I know about to sleep, but it would take too many social skills that I can’t access to go there.

 

But now IDK what to do. My thumb came out of my mouth like 5 minutes ago, so I can go anywhere without people finding out that I am not okay, but I’m so tired. I don’t really want to go back to school…partly because of the tiredness, but also because once I am back at school I will be alone again…but I guess without any other ideas I should probably go back…all I have left in my bag in terms of feeding my face is skittles and water, so it is probably time to head back to get some food. I will be okay. A few minutes at a time I will make it. I wish I could just go to forever home. Why does it have to hurt so bad? Why can’t it all end? Will anyone ever want me? Why did God take me to this place for the past approximately 15 years just to crush everything? Why is it so hard? I want so badly to go to forever home.

 

Lol yeah, so that was written maybe an hour and a half ago or so…I made it back…obviously…I did stop and admire the carseat graveyard, but I had enough sense to not try climbing the fence to get a closer look. I also apparently didn’t do a good job with the sunscreen and now have a beautiful imprint of my bra strap on my shoulder…and that is the real reason why your bra straps shouldn’t show…

 

Sometimes I wish people in this city weren’t quite so nice…so today someone stopped to offer me a ride when I was walking to the fancy gas station because I needed to go potty and didn’t want to have to have any conversations on the way and have to try to explain anything…and it wasn’t like I was dressed in such a way that I felt like I could get away with just wandering in anywhere and not being noticed…so anyway, single man in a car like I said yesterday is not something with which I am comfortable. Not to mention how awkward it would be to explain that I was wandering to go to the gas station…and given how I was doing emotionally, it was a really proud moment that I had words to say no thank you. It is great when my friends offer help, but random strangers on the street are a different story…plus I can’t apologize later for my poor behavior when it is some random stranger I’ve never met before.