Category Archives: Day in the Life

Lord I Find You in the Doubt

(Oh how I need you – All Sons and Daughters)

 

This song has been stuck in my head today and I really love it. Admitting need is hard, but this song is a really good reminder that it is okay to be vulnerable. It is okay to admit that we have needs. It is okay to reveal that we are broken and need help putting everything back together…and it is very true. “And to know you is to love you.” I’ve struggled with God these past few months. When life is intensely painful it is hard to understand God as good. It is hard to believe he even exists or cares. I had held on for years of hard things and this was just the last straw where I really didn’t feel like God was good or cared anymore. It felt, to quote Britt Nicole’s song World that Breaks “like life is only pain.” When that is the case, it is so difficult to go on believing. Everyone seems so happy. Everyone has their life figured out…and you are drowning and no one cares. No one sees you as the waves crash high above your head. (Yes, there were people who reached out, and for that I am profoundly grateful, but for the most part, you walk the halls and streets with people who don’t even notice your pain or if they do either shy away or pretend it isn’t there).

 

I have healed a lot, but there are still a lot of moments that are hard. There are a lot of times when I just feel frustrated. And all the people who walked through the worst of it with me are miles away, so now it is even more true that I need God, because he is the only one I have who is still accessible and understands what I’m going through. I do still have moments of doubt – it’s a lot easier to dump out the package of glitter than to get all the glitter back in the package – but I no longer have a totally empty bottle in front of me while I stare at an enormous pile of glitter with nothing but myself to try to clean it up or make it go away. There is a lot further I could go with that analogy, but that wasn’t what I set out to write…

 

Where I am now wasn’t plan A. It wasn’t plan B. It wasn’t even plan Z or plan ZZ…maybe we went through the alphabet three times all the way to ZZZ…I don’t even know anymore. Suffice it to say that a lot of things that should have been exciting have been things I’ve attended or done out of necessity and going through the motions but haven’t really been thrilled. I have been able to experience a few moments of joy or at least calm but the overarching unescapable feeling has been the loss. I’ve frequently been barely surviving day to day when I wanted to be thriving.

 

I desperately longed for death for months…and even now if given the choice I do not think I’d choose to keep living though there’d at least be a question in my mind now. It is hard when you’ve prayed every day for God to take you home and he hasn’t. When you’ve learned that no one wants you and you’re not good enough, not worth it, not going to make it, that feels like the piece de resistance. Even God doesn’t want you. Ouch.

 

Well, at one point in August I was really really trying to make the best of what I had, but was frustrated and told my friend that life was still super hard and it was hard to think it would ever really be okay, but there were three things at least kinda sorta in the realm of possibility that would make life easier…a friend, somewhere to serve, and choosing a church. I saw my friend on Monday. Tuesday I went back to my new home and went to an event at one of the two churches I was still deciding between. I made a new friend, got invited to help serve at an event that was coming up, and I decided that was going to be my church. God was good.

 

Life was getting better slowly and I started considering hope again. Then I packed up some work clothes and went to my parents’ house expecting a phone call from my manager inviting me to come in to process the job title change to pharmacist…and found out instead that I lost my job. I was crushed again. I had been doing so good not crying in front of people, but the tears were pouring down while I was on that call…I was really upset because the one thing I felt like I had left was gone. I was officially losing my coworkers and my job and the place that had started becoming my home in elementary school. Maybe a couple weeks later, still really upset, I told God this place would never feel like home because there were no babies for me here…backstory, I adore small children, particularly the first few weeks of life and at the church I went to at my parents’ house, I spent five hours every Sunday in the nursery. Not necessarily working with infants the whole time, but loving any time I did get with the infants. Well, that day, God brought me into a situation in which I got maybe 2 minutes with a small child. The kid was kind of on the border of really still being an infant, but that time was an amazing reminder that God was still there and still listening even when life was so hard…but at the same time I was thinking if God was going to give me the one thing I exploded about this morning, I wish I could take that back and ask for something about my work situation to improve…I don’t really complain as much about that anymore because it became hopeless and if you put so much energy in and can’t change it, eventually you give up…but anyway, like one or two days later, I hear from my manager that she finally got a position open that I could apply for. God is so good. I was ecstatic!! I was literally jumping up and down once I was alone. I went home that evening and finished that application so fast. I was thrilled!!

And then on Friday October 6th, I got a voicemail from my manager letting me know that she wasn’t able to hire me. I’ve probably written about that already, but I was done with life again, struggling to eat again, not sleeping well again. And burned out on hope – again it seemed like hope was just a way to be hurt more deeply. It wouldn’t have been a big deal to not have the job if I hadn’t known it was a possibility…and it wouldn’t have been such a big deal to find out I didn’t get it if there were any question in my mind whether I would get the job…but in my head, I already was ten steps ahead. In my head I already had this job and finding out I didn’t get it was taking away that lifeline I’d built for myself. It hurt so much and was one more set back in my healing process. I miss my coworkers and my job so bad.

 

But I want to believe in hope again. I want to believe that someday I will be happy again. And if I am being really honest, there is one way in which this extended period of grief has been beneficial. Grief messes with your hormones. The first big hit was in March, and I think since then I have had two or *maybe* three periods, and they have all been super light. That has been a huge blessing. One of the things I had been worried about before all this happened was the difficulty in adequate functioning and the potential embarrassment the first time I was on the first day of a period with new coworkers who barely knew me. I have been sent home early from work when I wasn’t needed, and more than once people have asked if they should call someone from the emergency room to help me, because I have trouble breathing and staying upright and might be non-responsive to people talking to me or waving their hands in my face until I can get enough energy to say something…so not having to deal with that with brand new coworkers is a huge blessing. If I could choose having everything I wanted back or having this, I’m pretty sure I would still choose having everything I wanted back, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t rejoice in the little miracles along the way…and maybe if I’m lucky even after the grief is totally over I’ll get to keep it this way. I could totally dig having only one light period every four months or so…being a girl sucks even aside from the whole being less diverse thing… #firstworldwhitegirlproblems…

Advertisements

I’m a Warrior

(Toy Soldier – Stephanie Pauline)

 

Today I have a lot to be proud of. Usually the key to my success at the grocery store is to have a list of no more than three items, preferably just one or maybe two. That is all well and good except that my day off is only one day and I wanted to make bread and there were still at least 6 things I can think of off the top of my head that I didn’t have that I needed…and no, multiple trips in quick succession is not generally an effective workaround.

 

And I had a coupon for $5 off if I could spend $30. Considering I usually spend $10-20/month on food including both groceries and eating out, spending $30 all in one day, especially considering my usual shopping abilities was going to be a stretch goal, but I wrote a list and figured if I really couldn’t do it I would extend myself some grace. As it turns out, the price of chicken was 20 cents per pound more in the store than the advertisement said it would be and that threw off my list and I almost gave up, but I am so proud of myself for persevering. Because of that I had to alter my list a little and I was a little off on where I was at so I spent a little more than I intended and am the kind of person who definitely won’t tell the cashier that I’d like to put something back, but ending up with a full cart of groceries is something I have never done before ever!! (I mean, unless you count when I am shopping with my mom and I am pushing the cart but she is the one picking out groceries). I am so stinkin’ proud of myself!!

 

I didn’t do a perfect job, but sometimes my best is good enough. I might not have gotten the best deals in the world (in fact, I know some of the stuff I could have gotten for cheaper elsewhere), but I figure that after the coupon it probably works back out to at least reasonable prices so it really isn’t a big deal. And I didn’t necessarily pick out the best groceries…hashtag the flavor milk I wanted was only available in the 30 calorie variety and usually I won’t buy unless the calorie count is above 100…except I couldn’t find any milk at this store that met that criterion and so I picked the one with the most calories I could find; 60 calories in original almond milk…I figured it was DIY vanilla almond and the sugar and vanilla extract I will add will probably at least add back some of the calories the manufacturers forgot to put in. And I couldn’t find butter flavored Crisco so I called my mom to ask what the difference was between that and the other kind. Umm…duh…the flavor. So if I ever decide to make cookies, we’ll see how that situation works out, because I am guessing that in the case of greasing things it doesn’t matter much but in the case of making cookies it might make a difference…but on the other hand, cookies have enough sugar that the butter flavor might not be THAT important. It was super weird though seeing white Crisco when I opened the container though…that threw me for a loop. Also, just some advice that is probably obvious to everyone but me, but 5 pounds of flour, for example, weighs 5 pounds, and two of them weighs 10 pounds. I am not really sure why I decided I needed two 5 pound bags of flour, but I did…and that (and all the other things I bought) is kinda heavy. If I were smart I would have put the heaviest stuff in the bag on my back, but I am not smart, so I put it in tote bags to carry home…which is why I was late to the event I go to at church on Tuesday mornings that I don’t work, because I had to stop a few times on the way home to re-adjust…well, that and I spent most of an hour at the grocery store…

 

Also, today I used my big girl words and actually participated in conversations. I am proud of that too 🙂

 

Today I also had lots of opportunities to use my creativity and problem solving skills. I didn’t take a lot of pictures because it isn’t just OCD making me clean up and wash my hands after (or in the middle of) every single ingredient…it’s because I am not sure there is a single ingredient that didn’t spill at some point. Maybe the salt? But I didn’t have a big enough cutting board so a piece of foil and the other cutting board side by side and it kinda sorta worked. Not ideal, but you gotta do what you gotta do and I wasn’t about to go to the store again and get a bigger one. (I might update the post with that picture, ’cause it’s a little funny). And of course I only have the kind of cookie sheet with walls on all four sides which means I made a huge mess trying to get the bread onto the sheet and also I guess it conducts heat differently than the fancy kind my mom has so the bottom got a little burned…and of course the timer was going to beep in like 2 minutes when I realized I didn’t have a cooling rack. Doesn’t everyone pull the metal shelf out of the microwave and lay it out across an open drawer with a placemat underneath to catch crumbs while cooling things? (Umm, no…I’d never even encountered a microwave with a shelf until I moved into this apartment, and I can’t imagine any time the shelf would do anything in there except get in the way and cause my popcorn to burn even worse than usual). So the bread looks a little ugly and is a little overdone on the bottom, but it still tastes awesome! So we’ll count that a success 🙂 .

 

And I also have always wanted to have people over to my apartment…that is a slight exaggeration since there were some periods of time third year during which my OCD was so intense that being around people was a struggle and there were definitely not going to be any extra people in my space if I could avoid it…but aside from that, I would really like to have people over, but inviting them is super hard for me. Last night I did it when I realized I’d been waiting for small group for over half an hour and invited the one other person there to my apartment to hang out for a little while, and today I did it again trying to invite people over for dinner.

 

Also I am super proud of all these successes, but this is not actually what I sat down to right about. I actually was going to write about forgiveness. I still want to figure out what that means. Since it is now almost time to go to bed, I am going to skip over the rest of what I was going to say and just skip to something I found today that could be a paradigm flip but could also be one of those things where I just have to agree to disagree. I don’t yet know my opinion and I am a processor so sometimes it just takes me some time/space/thought to figure out whether I agree or disagree. This site on the internet claimed that if a person willfully and hurtfully sins and refuses to admit their wrongdoing and make it right, God will not forgive them and we don’t have to either. Using this remark, I don’t need to forgive. I’m not sure though that God ever doesn’t forgive us or gives us permission to not forgive. I think I need to see if I can find anything in the Bible to support or not support that.

 

I’m falling on my knees…and so I’ll wait

(Hungry – Joy Williams)

Sometimes I make bad choices. Like walking in the middle of the street in the dark. Sometimes when I stop distracting myself from my loss and actually talk about it (and sometimes just totally randomly) the pain significantly intensifies. I know if I can push it away before it becomes all-consuming it won’t hurt as much. I know it isn’t the “right” way to deal with it, but it is what I am doing to make it through. Being in motion seems to help me feel at least a little better. So Thursday evening I grabbed my apartment key, put my shoes on, and as an afterthought took the bag of chocolate that I was really hoping I would eat and I went outside to walk. I would have rollerbladed or biked or something, but I knew I didn’t really have time to get any of those things ready. I just needed to go. Clearly I wasn’t thinking super logically…so I figured I wanted to be on the other side of the street so I crossed…not at an intersection…and not straight across…just diagonally from one side to the other…in my defense, I was at least wearing a brightly colored shirt…in the dark. When you don’t feel like you have much to live for though, what motivation do you really have for crossing the street safely? I haven’t been praying recently for God to take me home, but it is not because I have plans to take things into my own hands; I know that it is God’s job to decide when I go home. At times like that I am not sure whether to be proud of myself: I prevented a total meltdown, or angry: I should have been careful. What I do know is that God must have some sort of plan for my life: I am still alive. Of course, the next day I was crossing the street the right way and actually did almost get run over ’cause someone wasn’t paying attention…and okay, so I wasn’t doing it completely right since I didn’t attempt eye contact with the drivers near the intersection before starting to cross…

 

Because of my history of anxiety…and especially because the vast majority of my work was self-initiated, I have a very exposure-therapy based mindset to life. If it is scary and uncomfortable I tend to think I should probably make myself do it…clearly the exception is with processing the grief and stuff because I don’t think I am ready to handle that on my own yet. And recently I was watching a video that had a side note about the resiliency zone. I think that kind of gave credence to the way I am handling things right now. The resiliency zone is the range of emotion intensity that we have the coping mechanisms to handle and stay present. Above the resilient zone we fight or flight and below the resilient zone we freeze. We can only process and handle things in the resilient zone, but after a trauma or other stressful situation our resilient zone can be extremely narrow, and it takes a lot of time and work to be able to expand the resiliency zone and until it is wide enough to stay in the zone we can’t really work on re-processing whatever has happened.

 

Anyway, new things are scary, so Friday morning I went to Aldi because I saw that it was open. I wandered around for a few minutes and got overwhelmed because it was a very different atmosphere than any other grocery store I’ve gone to and there were a zillion people there like you had to wait for people to move to get through the aisles…but milk to make pudding has been on my list of things to buy for a long time because non-cow milk makes glop, not pudding because it doesn’t have the casein to hold the pudding together…but I don’t drink cow milk so it seemed so wasteful to buy a carton just to throw away the leftovers…enter Aldi where milk costs like half as much so it doesn’t seem quite so wasteful. So I will go back on Tuesday morning because it sounds like there is some kind of event then which sounds terrifying but exactly where I need to be.

 

You don’t make friends by being a hermit (That’s the right word for someone who never leaves their home, right?). And lol…speaking of making friends, someone randomly started talking to me yesterday as I was walking down the sidewalk.

 

Wait, I should back up. Second year when I was terrified of the interview into third year (even though it was pretty much common knowledge that if you show up you passed), my counselor asked me what I would want to do if I didn’t pass, like what other career I could pursue. That was a really hard question because there was only one thing I had ever been interested in doing ever: pediatric clinical pharmacy. Never had I wanted to do anything else. It took months, but eventually I determined that I would like to be a social worker…of course I was still thinking with that career option that I wanted to work with kids and families. Lately I have been frustrated because I don’t feel like there is any way for me to get from where I am to where I want to be. I know it would be throwing away the degree I fought for, but I’ve been thinking that while bachelor’s programs for social work are generally not conducive to holding a job at the same time that maybe a higher level program would be more able to accommodate a working adult schedule with asynchronous learning needs. Maybe if I did that and started over with a new career I would be happier and be able to find a job that makes me feel good.

 

It would definitely be a challenge – I am not an awesome reader and not attending lectures probably means an increase in the amount of reading and reading comprehension required. And most higher level programs are going to want prerequisites that I really don’t have, because hello, pharmacy graduate here. My psych classes included intro psych and abnormal psych. The only psych class I didn’t sign up for was psych of personality – it was a writing intensive class and I really had no reason to take it and I had a friend who took it and didn’t really enjoy it. I mean, technically my school also offered social psych which I did not take, but the reason I didn’t take it was that I signed up and then they cancelled the class. So anyway…most programs want like child developmental psych and family structure classes as prerequisites and I definitely have nothing like that unless you count the hands-on experience of the children that I work with volunteering in child care. I think hands-on experience for that type of subject matter is probably just as valuable as textbook learning, but something tells me that an admissions person would not be impressed.

 

So anyway, this guy starts talking to me, and you know someone most likely has special needs when he enthusiastically says hi to a stranger (me) and after being acknowledged says that he is so glad to have someone to chat with. Internally a part of me was going what did I just get myself into, because it was in the 90’s and I was so hot, but most of me was not just doing “the polite thing” but actually trying to really engage with this guy, because I really care about people. I know that someone like that probably gets rejected by people a lot, and that makes me really sad and ache for him, because I know how rejection feels, and to experience that constantly day after day is hard. I know that everyone has their own challenges and I really want to make people feel heard, because even if you can’t really change anything, it is really powerful for someone to be willing to step into your world and try to understand and acknowledge what you are going through.

 

And the more I talked with the guy the more I really wished there were more I could do, and he was super sweet despite definitely having some special needs. At one point he expressed that he was getting frustrated trying to get a new job and he was just looking for anything like maybe a store might need help taking out the trash and cleaning up. I remembered that Aldi had signs out that they were hiring and suggested he head over there to apply. He explained that he doesn’t fill out applications and he used to just ask to speak to a manager and he’d get hired that way. I kinda wanted to be like well that’s not how it works anymore and to consider you they need you to fill out the application, but with someone I just met I wasn’t quite sure how to express that respectfully, so I kept listening as he went on to say that now if he talks to a manager they tell him if he can’t fill out an application then the only other way to be considered is to go through an employment agency, but he’s tried seven different agencies and didn’t like any of them (I wonder if it is because he wouldn’t fill out an application?). By this point I felt really bad for the guy, because I totally understand the frustration of the job search and how eventually it just seems like everyone is telling you what to do and how easy it is to get a job and it just is SO NOT EASY and no one even seems interested in you.

 

People have always told me about things that aren’t safe…and from my perspective, to take it from them, the only way you can really be safe is to never ever leave your apartment and if you must, go directly to school do not pass go do not collect $200…but one thing people say isn’t safe besides a random assortment of basically every street ever, is talking to the weird people on the sidewalks. The advice is to just ignore and keep walking, which in my opinion is super weird and rude. I have always rebelled against that stupid advice and used my common sense. If it feels safe, it probably is, if you have that feeling of something is wrong and it isn’t just OCD telling you it is contaminated, then it probably isn’t safe and you should re-evaluate whether you should be doing it. From that perspective, I felt pretty safe with this person. The only moment where I really wondered if I should have ignored and moved on is when the guy started telling me that he will never go to Walmart because he got kicked out of there once because (in his words) they thought he was a retard. I was pretty sure there was more to that story, because stores don’t kick people out for being dumb…there are some pretty stupid morons in the world that are still able to go to the grocery store and buy food and go to wherever else and buy stuff…but by that point even though that put me on alert, I was pretty well stuck there because you can’t just walk away from a conversation…or, well, maybe you can, but I can’t. So I weighed my options and figured it was the middle of the day and we were on a sidewalk bordering a parking lot. If anything were to really go wrong, I might be able to scream and if I could scream then I could most likely garner enough attention to get help…the being able to scream part is where my safety is always going to be a little bit sketchy…that and the fact that I really doubt I could fight back not for lack of skills but for inability to hurt anyone or to repay evil with evil.

 

So the interaction with that guy made me want even more to see if I could get into social work. I really wanted to be able to help him, but couldn’t really figure out how. I think maybe the social work curriculum would teach me how to help people and connect them with resources to help them figure things out. And even if it didn’t, I know almost for sure it would help me learn better communication skills which would be helpful even if I never used the degree and just continued to be a pharmacist.

I wish I could be so much more

(Broken Things – Matthew West) 

Before I even knew the name of this song, I really liked how it sounded. Now that I know the title, I like it even better. I feel broken sometimes. 

Today (Saturday), I learned something really important. Do NOT paint on both sides of a page in a notebook. It is a good way to wreck three pages of pictures (and/or words, but all there was on the pages I messed up were pictures…)…I suppose an alternative is not to use water soluble colors on your pages…I learned that painting this picture…which was also frustrating because it isn’t anything like the picture inside my head.

 

20170916_153501[1].jpg
Castle (grace) with gate. Girl, sad, standing forlorn behind gate. Standing in a puddle of tears.

Anyway, I certainly do wish I could be so much more. There are so many ways that I look at myself and feel frustrated about how I am not good enough. I am trying really hard to reframe these things, but the reality is that there are a lot of things that have been hard in my life, and that colors my experience. Someone recently commented that some people think their stories are boring, but other people wish they had that kind of story. I really connected with that idea. I would be thrilled to have a boring story. My story is more like rollercoaster meets tangled up ball of yarn meets train wreck. I don’t want all that “excitement.” I didn’t want to be separated from everything and everyone I knew to go to a new church part way through high school…especially not a church where there wasn’t a choice what class I wanted to take and my assigned class was a clique that didn’t include me. I didn’t want to be abused in college…and I definitely didn’t want to be forbidden from talking about it or letting anyone know that I couldn’t talk about it. I didn’t want to end up at the end of school without a residency. I didn’t want to lose my job…I would be thrilled to have all these things taken out of my life. Boring would be so much better.

But I decided this morning (Friday) I am ready to hope again. Not a lot, just a little, but that is a really big, really scary, step forward. Hope is terrifying. Hope means opening yourself to vulnerability that can allow deeper hurt. When you’ve been living with deep grief for months and have been fighting to get through day by day, allowing the possibility of further hurt is one of the scariest choices you can make…but it is also something I know is probably really important to really healing.

There are a lot of things about my life that have made the grief more devastating already. It wasn’t *just* the loss of everything I had wanted and planned and it wasn’t even totally about being in an unknown. A big part of the loss was that it made me feel unwanted, rejected, alone, worthless, like a failure – the same things that had been drilled into my brain via the abuse. I had worked through some of that stuff before, but this situation was so difficult that I believed those lies were true. It didn’t seem like a feeling anymore; it felt like truth. It felt like identity. It made me think that maybe instead of abuse it was just someone being brave enough to tell me the truth – that I really don’t matter and would never be worth anything no matter how hard I tried. I know now that isn’t true, but it has definitely been a journey coming to this place of understanding, and even though I am here today it doesn’t mean I will feel the same way tomorrow. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was good enough and instead it felt like I did the opposite; I showed everyone how unwanted and worthless and stupid I really was. 

But I am not a worthless failure. Sure, I have lost almost everything that mattered to me, but all is not lost. The same day I hit send on an email to my best friend that I knew I so desperately needed a friend but I don’t really know how to make them without a place to volunteer and I have neither a place to volunteer nor a schedule that lends itself well to volunteering…and not only that, but no one would want to be friends with me while I am struggling so hard to make it and therefore even less of a good friend, God sent someone to be my friend. That is huge. That is God showing me that I really am good enough at communicating to make friends. That is God showing me I am worthy of community. That is God showing me that I do matter to him. 

It doesn’t mean that life magically became awesome though. It is still hard, and I can still definitely tell that I am working harder than I should be to get through each day. For example, yesterday (Friday), I went to the grocery store because I had maybe like a tablespoon of frozen peas left and then would be out of vegetables and the only fruit I’ve had in weeks was juice…but the grocery store was out of the bags of frozen peas that I was going to buy, so I got overwhelmed and gave up and went back home…yeah…I am not so stupid that I couldn’t figure out that there are other vegetables or other brands I could buy, but in that moment the one thing I needed to get done just seemed impossible and there didn’t feel like there were alternatives…this is what happens when so much brain space is taken with struggling that there isn’t space left for processing and responding to practical situations…so I’ll go to the store today and try again…or maybe I’ll find an ATM and then try the farmers market…or maybe I’ll order a pizza and call it a day…we’ll see…like the song Piece of Heaven by Go Fish says, “sometimes it’s hard; sometimes it’s the middle of the night.” I’m learning to give myself grace and celebrate the successes in this period of grief, because being angry with myself was adaptive at first to get food and fluids in and keep going through the motions, but now I am doing well enough that anger just uses up energy that could have been used for something else…and energy is certainly at a premium…it’s not as bad as it was in March/April, but it definitely is still something that isn’t completely back to baseline. 

Y’wanna know what excess stress sometimes causes in my life? OCD resurgences. Right now, it luckily has not reached crisis mode, but there are definitely some thoughts in my mind that shouldn’t be there. I’m scared of the world because I read a news article about enterovirus D68 and how it is causing a lot of respiratory illness this year, and I also read that the flu is predicted to be worse than usual this year…not is worse, just predicted to be worse…and that was one more reason to not travel over my birthday weekend.

 I hadn’t announced it yet, but I was strongly considering road-tripping over my birthday weekend to say hi to friends, especially since I didn’t go over labor day weekend like I originally planned. If I was going to go, this weekend was the cutoff I set for myself to ensure that I had enough time to plan and let friends know I was coming. And so today I decided the answer is no. I want to explain it away as being a combination of little things that make it not the greatest time to go, but if I am being really honest with myself, it is mostly that I feel like no one really wants to see me and would just be inconveniencing themselves to be polite to me by trying to make me feel welcome. I know that is not true, but knowing and feeling are different. If I were having an awesome day today, the story would probably be different and I’d probably excitedly be packing my bags way too far in advance…but the story my life is writing right now is one of being so used to rejection that I can reject myself before anyone else does to save them the time and me the pain of being rejected. It has been really hard because of some things I have seen on facebook. In March and April it was sometimes really hard to be on facebook because everyone was announcing how excited and hashtag blessed they were getting their first choice for residency. Their excitement at getting something I could not even have a tiny piece of was in painful contrast to the sorrow that swallowed up my world. As much as I wanted to be happy for them, it hurt and was a reminder of what I didn’t have…and the whole hashtag blessed thing was really bad for me. I didn’t really believe God was good and I didn’t really believe God cared anymore. I guess I had a pretty skewed view of God through the lenses of my pain, but from my view, if being blessed meant having a residency then clearly I was not blessed and God didn’t really care about me. No one wanted me, not even God. It was painful. It still is painful. 

Now people have started complaining on facebook about their residencies. Oh, how I would LOVE to have a residency to complain about. I would do almost anything to be in their places. I did everything in my power to get myself a residency. I paid application fee after application fee. I traveled to interview after interview. I prepped and interviewed and prepped and interviewed. I tried so hard, and no one wanted me. They just wanted to use up my time energy and money so they could crush me later. It might have been easier to be rejected upfront and not be driving all over the place and buying plane tickets and staying at hotels and airBnB’s than to be given the illusion of opportunity and be strung along. They didn’t care about me, they only cared about themselves and their own enjoyment laughing about me later…okay, so maybe that isn’t exactly what they were going to do, but after the large number of residencies I applied for and interviewed for and was told I was a strong candidate for just to still not have a residency, it sure does feel like perhaps their goal really was to see how high they could get me in order to see how crushed they could get me later. No one wants me. Especially when the whining is all stuff like OMG they made me work the 9-5:30 shift on Friday and it is not fair because I wanted to get out of work sooner to hang out with my friends. I just want to comment look at how blessed you are to have a residency. You should be thankful. There are a lot of people who would be thrilled to be in your shoes and would gladly work 9-5:30 and wait a little longer to see their friends if it meant having a residency. 

Anyway, speaking of facebook, it is often a place where I have to remember that I don’t need to agree with people to be friends with them. It seems that recently a lot of Christian’s have forgotten the command to respect those in authority over you. Even bashing people who kind of deserve it sometimes bothers me because I know how it feels to be bullied and excluded and don’t want anyone else to feel like that, but bashing people who are doing everything they can to advance society, keep us safe, and protect justice is something appalling to me. It has been rampant on facebook people bashing other people and talking about how wrong they are and how unfair it is. Unless you were at the scene of the crime, you do not know what happened. And a jury is for the benefit of the defendant. If the defendant does not feel he (or she) needs a jury then it is perfectly legal to forego that right. The evidence that I have seen does clearly point to innocence. While I am the kind of person who would be more likely to let someone beat me up than to fight back and defend myself, police officers certainly have the right to use force when necessary to protect themselves from a real threat. Someone reaching for a gun is a real threat. People are even speaking as representatives of the church bashing authority. I don’t think God said that we should respect those in authority over us unless they acquit someone the media portrayed as guilty. I am pretty darn sure that last half of the phrase wasn’t in the Bible last time I checked. And someone posted a long story about how the police are so awful. He describes going into a park after it was closed and the police coming and questioning him and his friends before letting them go. He repeated over and over how they weren’t doing anything wrong, but the police acted like they were being kind by giving only a verbal warning not to do it again…my thought is no, the police are not so awful; you were breaking the law and they could have imposed fines or written you up, but instead chose to show you grace by letting you walk away free…and the way you reward their kindness is by bashing them on the internet. 

We live in a strange political climate right now. That strange climate is one of the reasons I have given myself as a “real” reason not to travel. Because my license expires on my birthday, to travel then, I would be traveling on a temporary license. In this political climate, it is not very safe to be white in St. Louis. To be white is to have a target on your back that says protesters, please attack me. I firmly believe that rioting is NOT an appropriate way to express your opinion. If you can express yourself using your big boy or big girl words then go for it, but to use violence to express yourself is wrong. I don’t understand how you can claim racism if a white police officer shoots a black person who was threatening him (or her), but think it is okay and not racist for a group of black people to vandalize an innocent white person’s home and injure multiple innocent white police officers who are simply doing their job of trying to keep EVERYONE safe. That is disgusting. Y’all, we learn in elementary school that humans are different from other animals because we work together to accomplish great things. If you are gonna act like toddlers and throw a tantrum when you don’t get a cookie you didn’t earn, then maybe you need a reminder of what makes us human. So yeah…driving through St. Louis as a white person sounded like a bad idea if it wasn’t necessary, and doing it on a temporary license sounded like asking for trouble…it might be better to wait until people screw their heads back on a little straighter before I go. It seems like the more news I read, the more ashamed I feel of the people I share the world with…

 

I had some other things to say, but I feel like I’ve probably already said too much…

 

So I’ll leave you with this incredible youtube video from Inside Out

You don’t know you’re a ghost

(Christa Wells – Life Costs So Much)

A lot of the time I write because it is how I can process situations…sometimes I can’t write because I haven’t processed far enough to even have written words to express myself. I guess you can probably imagine that there’s been a lot going on in my life right now.

Seeing my coworkers again and saying goodbye got re-scheduled again. As much as I really really don’t want it to be over, I also just want it to be over immediately because being excited to see my team and being devastated at the loss is such a confusing combination.

And now it is even more confusing.

I don’t know how to write about it yet.

I am fighting so hard to recover from the abuse and the grief. And I am so afraid to hope. Every time I have tried hope again I’ve had more loss and more hurt. I don’t know if I even want to try to pursue or even think about the next little bubble of hope that came floating through today. I am terrified that if I reach out with any hope that I’ll just be crushed again. I don’t know if I can handle more loss. I feel lost in the web of ambivalence. I want to know if there really is hope but I don’t want to open up my arms and expose myself to vulnerability to be hurt more deeply.

The Rain Keeps Comin’ Down I Keep Gettin’ Wetter

(Breathin’ to Death – Lecrae)

 

So, what I said yesterday about hope…yeah, never mind. Hope just creates more ways to get hurt. It is definitely not worth it. I want to give up, but I’ve gone too far to just quit now. The clock says it is past lunch time…my mouth says I’m not eating ever. Ever ever. I know I have to eat. I worked so hard and finally recently started getting to the point of eating normally again…and I know that even a few days of slipping is just going to make it harder. When you lose weight really fast you luckily can also gain it back really fast without even eating completely normally again, but obviously losing over 25 pounds (closer to 35) over just a couple weeks and then gaining most of it back in a month isn’t healthy and it definitely isn’t healthy to start losing it all again…not to mention that aside from calorie intake, my body probably needs some nutrition. For a while I was taking 2-3 multivitamins every day to make up some of the lost nutrition, but as I started eating better (and got busy) I went down to just one a day and now I only get around to one every few days…and I do know that multivitamins are not a substitute for eating actual food.

 

So yeah, all that to say I am super determined to not fall all the way back to the bottom functionally. Emotionally I might be at the bottom and stuff, but if I’m gonna have to stay alive then I am going to work harder than I’ve ever worked before to shove food in my face and not be a bad friend. I don’t want to be alive, but that is God’s choice, not mine, and it won’t make life as a whole easier to give up on eating. Not eating and drinking eventually leads to exacerbating the physical exhaustion of grief. It’ll probably help that I don’t have to worry about homework and studying and stuff anymore, so if it takes three hours or more of concentrated focused effort to get food inside my body then I can do that (although it does mean most of lunch will become dinner since I can’t have three hours off to try to get a bag of chips in my mouth…and that might make dinner even harder…but I’m going to try). And with that I am taking a break to try to get some food in my mouth. I am very glad I had some snacks before finding out I lost my job though (not the full time one, I lost the one I like) so this doesn’t have to be  a full meal yet.

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:

20170820_155002.jpg

 

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.