My firm belief is that, humor, by far, is the very best medicine.

Well, it’s been an interesting to start to the semester, to say the least. I started back to school 2 weeks ago, Jack had all his drama last weekend, and then this week I started my clinicals. My life is never boring, I can say that much. It seems that Jack had a horrible virus over the weekend.  So, when I went to get gas (in his car) on Monday, I must have inadvertently been exposed to that stomach bug. Although I never saw him and took pains to leave the food outside and pick up/drop off the car without even saying hello,  it never occurred to me, (yes, I KNOW, I’m a nursing student, but I was a little preoccupied) that the germs might still be in the car from Saturday. Guess what happened? Disaster struck!

Tuesday was fine. I went to school, life carried on, and I felt a sense of normalcy beginning to return. I was extremely anxious about the new clinical rotation on Wednesday morning and had butterflies in my stomach all evening on Tuesday.  I printed out the 35-page orientation packet for my instructor which outlined the work to be done for her and read over it (this is in addition to the orientation packet for all semester 2 students). I wanted to cry most of the evening because of the sheer terror and anxiety I was feeling after reading her expectations. If we miss even one day, we have to write a 20-page paper. Any more than that could mean dismissal from the nursing program with the only exceptions being for death in the family or surgery. I was not alone in my fears. Several members of my group were experiencing the same feelings. Some even cried the night before.  Determined to calm myself, I watched a favorite tv show and went to bed early as planned.

9:30PM. Lights out, I can do this

10:00PM Go to sleep!!

10:30PM sleeping at last

1:30AM. Eyes shot open, look at the clock… not time yet.  Relax, sleep.

2:30AM. Eyes shot open, look at the clock… not time yet. Relax, breathe deep, you’ll wake up. Relax, sleep.

3:30AM. Eyes shot open, RUN LIKE HELL for the toilet, smash leg on cedar chest, jump over baby gate #1, trip over dog bed, jump over baby gate #2, RUN, VOMIT, VOMIT, Vomit, vomit….. Quick! Sit! DIARRHEA!!! Take an immodium. Glass of water. Back to bed.

4:15AM Still time for sleep. Must sleep. 4 alarms set, you will get up.

Clinical Day #1

5AM First alarm goes off, repeat 3:30AM sequence, including immodium #2.  Diarrhea continues relentlessly until I leave at 6:30AM. I pack crackers, soup and 3 water bottles for the day. It’s only 8 hours, I can do this. At least we’re meeting at school first before heading to the hospital. Familiar territory.

6:30AM out the door with stomach grumbling and tail on fire.

7:00AM Get out of car,  walk into the school building and have a small accident on the way to the restroom. Not a good sign. Take immodium #3 in the bathroom while shaking and sweating profusely in the restroom.

The day continues in much the same way…. including a fire alarm, during which we have to exit the building and walk down 4 flights of stairs! Not fun! Lunchtime….Eat 3 crackers, water bottle #3 and immodium #4 in the car at lunch to avoid all smells in the cafeteria. No vomiting or major accidents. I can do this. By now, I haven’t been able to hide my illness, everyone is aware that I not well, including my instructor. She overlooks it and continues, thank goodness! Heading to the hospital…

12:30PM Arrive at hospital for preconference. Get report on our clients, names, dx’s, bx hx, sx, etc… Nausea is returning. Must have been the crackers. I can do this. 2 1/2 more hours. We have to sit in a sunny room. It is *very* warm in there. Chugging 4th water bottle, almost out. Not good at all. Move to the hall to be buzzed into psych unit to meet staff, get a tour and meet with clients.

1:00PM. Hallway is nice and cool. This is good. I can breathe. Nausea is subsiding a little, but stomach is very tight. We get buzzed in. Staff comes to meet us. We stand just inside the door, being introduced. The temperature is very high. It’s a geriatric psych unit. I can smell *EVERYTHING.* The room begins to spin. I am frantically looking for a trashcan. I know that here, every room is locked, including bathrooms. I start to sweat, all the blood is gone from my head, the feeling begins to rise in my throat I can’t stop it…. I interrupt the nurse who is talking and frantically ask for the bathroom – she unlocks the door next to her while she and my group stand right outside. I don’t even know where I put my stuff, I don’t close the door, I just find the toilet and VOMIT, VOMIT, VOMIT!!! It’s so powerful that I can’t stop the diarrhea from going. It’s running down my legs!!!!! OMG!!! Everyone is right outside. Here I am sick as a dog and all I can think about is how to recover gracefully and get the hell out of here! Those are my classmates, my instructor, and the people I am going to have to work with for the next 6 weeks!!! I gathered myself and my stuff as best I could and came out. Everyone was standing there looking at me. I just apologized and told my instructor I had to go. She just looked at me. I told her I was sick and needed to go. She asked if I was okay and I said I needed to talk to her. I pulled her in the bathroom and told her I threw up and “went” all down my pants. LOL How professional! Honestly, it was all I could muster at that point. She said, “Okay honey, are you okay to drive?” Oh yes! I just need to go home! I cried and begged her not give me a 20-page paper! LOL She said, “We’ll worry about that later. Just call me as soon as you get home. I want to know you made it okay.” Maybe I looked bad? I don’t know, but she was obviously concerned.  I apologized to everyone in the group in my humiliation and tried to run out of there. In the midst of the chaos a nurse came up to my instructor and said that the state inspector was right there at the nurse’s station behind us. DOH!!!

Okay, so now that I had escaped, it was time to walk my poopy butt down the elevator, through the hospital, across the street, through the other building, up the elevator, through the parking garage, and then drive it home. My life continued in much the same fashion with Immodiums #5 and #6, ginger ale, and 3 crackers until the next morning when I was up at 5AM to do it all again.

This is exactly how I felt during clinicals, especially when my friend kept telling me I needed to eat SOMEthing while she swore she’d eat her asparagus and hamburger a few chairs away from me… bluhhhhhhh (From the movie Bridesmaids **Spoiler alert if plan to see it)

Clinical Day #2

This was a far, far better experience. I was able to hold down chicken noodle soup and crackers for lunch and drank ginger ale all day. I felt quite a bit better. I still had a touch of diarrhea in the morning, but it had mostly waned by mid-day. I was finally able to meet with my client and had an overall pleasant experience throughout the day – and nothing was said about my humiliation from the day before other than wishes for a speedy recovery.  On an unrelated note, my instructor told me later in the day how relieved she was that I had a good experience with my client because, after she saw her prior interactions with staff, she was thinking to herself, “Oh WHAT have I DONE to Sandy?!” *gulp* That explains why she was hovering over me and wanted to be there when I interviewed with her (but was called away and couldn’t be present. She hadn’t done that with anyone else). Hmmmmm…. My client was here because she assaulted a resident, was aggressive with staff, and was d/c’d from her facility to this unit for posturing to assault staff. Nice. My experience was that she was initially resistant, but warmed to me and was open to working with me on her goal, “anger issues.” I’d say that’s on target. Now that I’ve learned to be more in tune, it’s interesting to see how I was able to reach her and get her to go from being resistant with her face turned and body pivoted away from me to facing me, making eye contact and seemingly open to working with me.  Should be a VERY interesting rotation. Um, suffice it to say that, with my current luck, if anyone will be assaulted, it will be me. BUT, here’s the beauty in the weeds…. I bet we have a breakthrough. LOL I have more crap happen in my life, but it seems like there’s ALWAYS an upside.

Actually, I have already learned so much from just 2 weeks in school and 2 days in clinicals! As I was studying this morning, EVERYTHING started to click. I realized how lucky I am to be one of the people with psych during the first rotation. Everything we’re studying for Tuesday’s test, I can already relate to my patient and the clinical setting. I was able to watch group therapy, observe various clients with different disorders and their behaviors both on an individual basis and their interactions together, sit in on treatment planning with the entire team collaborating, do a one-on-one with my own client, and a lot of other fascinating things in just one day!! I am now so incredibly excited about this semester. Yes, it will be intense and extremely labor intensive, but also very fulfilling and FULL of learning opportunities that I am ready to soak up like a sponge!

Beauty In The Weeds

So here’s to hoping you can laugh instead of cry too!

Just remember: always, always try to find beauty in the weeds,

~Sandy

…to come out, life throws you a curve ball and you’re on the run, living that with that sense of “fight or flight” and in “survival mode” again.  That’s where I am – AGAIN. I thought it was safe. I managed to get my life back in order. I laid the ground rules with the people in my life – AGAIN. I set some healthy boundaries, got myself into a good place, started on some adjunct meds, started therapy, started school, etc… Things were going pretty well. Then the bomb hit.

On New Year’s Eve, a close family member whom I dearly love (who has been one of my main stressors over the last few months) announced that he is addicted to prescription pain medication due to a real, chronic medical problem. We’ll call this person my brother Jack  (and since I don’t have a brother, this should be a safe alternative and make it easy for me to reference.) Jack has been borrowing money from me for the last 4 months in LARGE quantities, already borrowing almost my entire grant for the year since September. Since I am unemployed and living off of loans and grants, this has caused me significant stress and hardship. When he called me on New Year’s Eve, I had already decided that I was going to have the difficult conversation and cut him off. I had no idea that’s why he was borrowing so much money, but enough was enough. Needless to say, I was blown away when I found out why. I had no idea he had been buying drugs on the street or living this secret life. He informed me that he was going to go for treatment at the end of January, but that, in the meantime, there was no money for the house payment, food, car insurance, etc…  I put my foot down and said no. No more. All of those things are just STUFF. If the car goes back, you’ll make it. If the house goes, you can rent. At that point, I didn’t even have enough money myself to pay for my uniforms, books, car insurance, nothing. *I* couldn’t even make it without borrowing from my boyfriend! Tough love sucks, let me tell you.

During the coming weeks, Jack was suffering. He was scraping money together from other family members – and had been , apparently, during all this time. He called me Thursday and asked for more money, but I refused. He did get more money from some others to help pay car insurance and several bills – and enough drugs – just to make it until Friday to keep from losing his job and hold off withdrawl until he could check into rehab on Friday.  He managed all the way until this weekend when he was able to check in, which made me very proud. He actually did it!

Saturday, I received numerous calls throughout the day. Crying, desperation, begging, threatening, begging me to come get him. I encouraged, supported, prodded, refused to come. All of the rest of us were talking on the phone back and forth, but apparently, I was the only one *he* could reach by phone until the end of the day –  when he checked out. I was devastated.  I was angry, resentful, disappointed. After all the encouragement he had offered me through MY hospitalizations. All the support through MY therapy – and HE didn’t even stay. He said he would do it at home and go to outpatient therapy.

Yesterday, Sunday, I called in the evening to check on him and he was sick as could be. Vomiting, diarrhea, shortness of breath, weakness… the whole 9 yards. At least he didn’t go back to the drugs. Today, I had to take over food, fill the car with gas, and get an Ativan prescription. More money gone – over $100. I am such a wimp. I swore no more money, but when I know he’s detoxing, how can I not help? Yesterday I went to a meeting at the Token club. Today, I left him a token – 24 hours clean. Another family member and I will be attending his first NA meeting with him later this week. *We* plan to go to AlAnon. I guess that’s where we belong. I don’t know. I don’t know how all this works and I don’t even know who to ask or where to start. I am so angry with him for leaving early because we ALL needed the resources they could have offered us. He needed to know how to change his life and WE needed to know how to help. Do we push or not push? Do we let him do what he wants and back off? Is NA the same as AA? Is there something other than AlAnon for NA family members? Where do we start? Are there groups or is NA it? Where do we find these resources? Who can help us? I am so lost!

My diarrhea is back with a vengeance. I am a nervous wreck again. I was actually feeling better over the last few weeks. I started school last week. We had a month’s worth of lectures in 4 days because they front loaded the semester. By tomorrow, it’ll be 5 weeks worth of material and my first major exam is next Tuesday. I have clinicals starting on Wednesday and again on Thursday. I have to be up by 5Am to be there by 7AM. I haven’t managed to get much of anything done on my assignments this weekend because of all the calling back and forth over Jack, as well as the extreme anxiety I’ve been feeling over the whole thing. I’m 1 week into school and already behind. This is strangely reminiscent of last semester.

Sometimes God calms the storm...Sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms His child.

Exactly how is it that my life never seems to be about ME at all? My boyfriend forced me to get off the phone last night, stop talking about it, eat dinner, and watch a movie. He said enough was enough. It’s Jack’s problem, not yours and you need to walk away. I don’t think anyone understands how this kind of thing affects me. Why is that? It just tears me up. If I just carry on with my life and leave it alone, does that mean I don’t care or love people? How do I do that? I always seem to be the one who doesn’t love enough, but I really get tired of giving so much that I am broke all the time. I’m tired of having gastric problems so much that my tail is raw. I’m tired of stressing to the point of shaking. I’m tired of the insanity. And I’m tired of feeling like my life just isn’t even my own. Last semester it was my boyfriend and his family and I let them consume my life. This semester it’s MY family. If I refuse to let it consume me again, does that mean I love them less? I haven’t heard back from the place I went for therapy. I had an initial visit and then they’re supposed to call me back to let me know if I am eligible to be a client. I think I’ll call them today. These are exactly the kinds of things I need them to help me with. I need help sticking to my guns – and not be consumed by the guilt.

*sigh* I am just really, really tired of living this way.

JUST when I was getting back on track.

The semester was incredibly difficult for me, if for no other reason, because of the stressors in my personal life were nearly out of control. Still, I managed to do fine and pull an A out of the hat. In fact, on our final exam, the national HESI exam, I scored better than 94% of the people in the NATION! It actually brought my semester grade up from a high B to the A I was wanting. I am proud as a peacock! I know I can make it through this semester, I am just dreading the stress, exhaustion, work, and sleeplessness. If I could just get my personal life in order, I wouldn’t be so stressed and overwhelmed about the whole thing.

About that personal life…. I have taken steps to try to get things to where they need to be. I have revealed the “big secret” here now, so you know. I have really struggled with depression over the last few weeks – and maybe longer. I didn’t even recognize it until it was WAY bad. Pretty bad given that I’ve been dealing with bipolar for so long, that even with all of my experience, *I* didn’t see it for what it was.  Sometimes you just can’t see the forest for the trees.  BUT, the important thing is, I asked for help and got myself back into therapy. I have really been smart (and lucky!) and found lots of resources so that, even without my health insurance (since I am now jobless), I can get the help I need. I am so excited about this!

Now I have a new focus, goals, and a mission. I have help to make these things happen and who knows where I’ll be in the next few months? Maybe a whole new life! I’m learning to say NO. I’m not letting the people I love and who love me take advantage of me. I’m learning to love and value myself – and insisting that the people in my life do the same! Most importantly, I’m making the decision that if they CAN’T do that, *I* am going to find the strength to walk away. Oh, and I’ve lost almost 45 pounds since last March – so things are looking up.

I’m gonna keep my head up. I’m gonna turn out fine. And I’m gonna KEEP singing that until I SEE that it’s true. I believe it, I just want to SEE it.

Here’s to a happier, HEALTHIER 2012!

Cheers,

Sandy

I tell people all the time that EVERYBODY has something wrong with them, so remember that when you get angry about what’s going with you – and be careful pointing fingers. My son has struggled with Diabetes type I since he was 5 years old. It’s been a long, long 12+ years for him. He has to take numerous shots a day, test his blood at least 6 times a day, and watch everything he eats. He has bucked the system constantly. He’s reminded almost every minute of his disease. He resents it. He hates it and he thinks he’s the only one who has to suffer with something so awful. I haven’t been the best mom when it comes to helping him manage his disorder because *I* would probably be the worst diabetic on the planet. His dad (ugh) is far better at helping him manage because he is far more militaristic than I am. I am too empathetic.  I can only imagine how hard it would be. My mom has it too. She has struggled with the exact same problems.

I have tried to explain to my son that we ALL have something, but you just can’t always SEE how other people struggle. I live with a deep, dark secret. I have bipolar II disorder. I struggle with it daily, just like my son does – only other people can’t see it. It’s “okay” to tell people you have diabetes and they empathize. It’s not the same when you’re a bipolar bear. I worked for a social service agency for 2 1/2  years, surrounded by trained professionals. The things I heard them say made me shudder sometimes. The way people view bipolar and those afflicted with it is so disheartening.  Most of those people knew about the heart-breaking things that had happened in my life, but they never knew my secret. Some of them were extremely close friends, but I never trusted them with that one.  I could have told them and I could have said, “you know, not everyone with bipolar is an idiot. *I* have bipolar and *I’m* not crazy or a criminal,” but I found myself not wanting to embarrass or shame them anymore than I did myself. They knew better than to say crap like that. I was there, working very closely with trained professionals for all that time and they never figured it out. It’s easy to become lax and hurl generic labels around without even thinking about the people around you who might be maintaining. It’s even easier to stereotype everyone by the ones who just can’t control the monster the way some of us were graced with the ability to do. (And that’s not to say any of us can control it ALL the time, either. There are LOTS of factors that come into play with bipolar: experience – how long you’ve had it, having the benefit of good therapy, access to healthcare, medication, STRESS levels!, support systems, physiological status….)

The thing that makes me so angry, though, is that I even have to deal with this – and it’s every single minute of every single day. The first time I was hospitalized for depression and suicidal thoughts was 22 years ago.  I really, really struggled through my first pregnancy and postpartum. It was after my daughter was born that I struggled with the mood swings.  I may have since I was a teen, but no one could figure out what it was.  Finally, the most wonderful clinician in the world, an LCSW that I was seeing for therapy, nailed it right off the bat. That was somewhere around 9 years ago.  Having access to healthcare is of the utmost importance to me; it is literally my lifeline. No, I don’t have to test my blood daily, but every single thing in my life affects me. I have to continuously take my mood “temperature.”

• Is this REALLY that big of a deal? Is this REALLY a crisis? Am I going to die right now? I know it feels like this is going to kill me and I’m not going to make it til morning, but wait it out. This WILL pass. Just wait til morning. Everything will be okay. CALM DOWN. Remember to breathe. Slow down. Stop and think. Take it down a notch. Okay, concentrate. Read every single word. Take a break.

People who don’t have bipolar have no idea what it’s like to have to continuously assess your emotions, your thoughts, and your reactions.  You have to continuously assess whether everything you think and feel is normal or a revved up version. It’s like looking at the world through giant coke-bottle glasses. It’s all totally magnified, but you can’t be sure whether you have on the glasses or not because you don’t notice that they’ve sneaked back into place. All of your emotions are WAY bigger and more intense than everyone else’s.  Plus, your thoughts sometimes begin to go faster and faster and faster until suddenly they are racing past in your brain like people going by in the mall and you can’t quite grab them. They just keep racing past. You can see them all, but there are too many and you’re overwhelmed by it all. What’s worse is that it isn’t always good stuff. Sometimes, you get in a mixed state (like me) and the thoughts are fast and racing and they’re often bad and negative thoughts at the same time. So, you’re hyper and everything is fast and racing, but you feel overwhelmed and everything you’re thinking is negative at the same time. It’s like being depressed, but on super caffeine pills. This means you aren’t the traditional, sluggish, sleepy lump, you’re hyper and fast and racing and negative! To me, this is way more dangerous than sluggish and sleepy.

Imagine trying to manage relationships, school, work, and CHILDREN – like this! —and not let anyone KNOW your secret because you don’t want them to think you’re completely insane!!! I can be a terrifying bundle of energy and emotions to any man who thinks he might want to be with me. It’s hard for my closest friends and family too. They watch me go up and they watch me go down. They never know what kind of mood I’ll be in – sometimes from one minute to the next.  The best way to handle it is to just ride it out. Sometimes you just have to let me be and not pay any attention. I have learned to manage it and ride it out myself. That’s where cognitive behavioral therapy has helped tremendously. You just talk yourself through it (usually in your head) and know that whatever it is, isn’t really going to kill you, they’re just emotions. INTENSE? Oh you better BELIEVE IT! But they are still just emotions, nonetheless.

Luckily, you can get on a good medication regimen and remain stable for long, long periods of time. That doesn’t mean you don’t have ups and downs, you do. Every day. When stress levels go up, you have roller coaster days. That’s when the cognitive work helps so much. When you tell a person with bipolar that it’s time to mess with the meds, our blood runs cold. We know what that means. It’s time to start the ride all over again. Buckle up, baby, here we go. Please keep arms and legs inside the car at all times, feel free to scream as loud as you want, but remain seated and hold on to the bar – DO NOT let go. Oh, and don’t worry, we’ll be taking your picture for the family album as a keepsake so we can all remember and tell stories. It might not be bad, but it could be a whopper. Who knows?

The cool thing about people like me is that we are FUN AS HELL. We are creative, dynamic, FUNNY as HELL, incredibly SMART, amazing people to be around. But then we have this, sometimes debilitating, disorder that we are trying to control. We have to control our minds, our thoughts, our emotions, our reactions, and our behavior.  Our brains can take on a whole life of their own if we let them.  Sometimes, I hate being this way and I HATE this disorder, but I have to embrace it because I love the special parts of me – and maybe it’s the disorder that gives me those special attributes. That’s what I’m choosing to believe because it allows me to accept it a little bit easier.  One of these days I WILL find someone who loves and accepts ALL of me – good and bad. Hey, Lucille Ball did it (at least for a while). I don’t know if she had bipolar, but her personality fit the bill and she sure as hell acted crazy enough – and the whole nation loved her, heart and soul.

I once read that 1 in 5 people with bipolar disorder kill themselves. When you have it for life and deal with one “crisis” after another day after day, those don’t feel like very good odds. Living with bipolar yourself or loving someone who has it isn’t easy, but it can be done. Love can conquer anything, You just have to constantly remember that emotions pass and that the things that go on in your head are exactly there – in your head. Leave them there and try to leave the body out of it. Tomorrow you will feel differently. Talk it out with someone you love who “gets” it – or better yet, a detached professional.

******

Here’s a song by Gary Allen, my most FAVORITE country artist…

An aside: I LOVE his song “Watching Airplanes”. Apparently, his wife had bipolar and died because of it. The story of that song (or so I hear) is that she was a stewardess and they met on an airplane, thus the song. But, this one seemed more appropriate for this entry.

“preseason” week #1: I was getting nervous, but holding my own. I took a vacation week between working and the beginning of school.  I did a ton of cleaning around the house. Did some shopping, visited a few friends, had some doctor appointments, got things in order, went a LITTLE stir crazy, but was okay.

“preseason” week #2:  The nerves were really building, anxiety was growing. Wondering if I had made the right decision.  Could I actually pull this off? What was I thinking quitting my job? Decided to get a jump on the homework and read all the 12 chapters that we were going to be assigned for the following week.  Financial aid was totally screwed up, had to go sit in their office AGAIN. Everything was going to be okay. I could handle it.  Tuesday was an all-day workshop (medical terminology). Barely slept a wink all night Monday night, but wanted to get the “first day” jitters out of the way.  Came home ready to start and all psyched up! Tuesday’s high lasted through most of Wednesday.  Thursday was very stressful and the high was worn off.  I was ready to vomit by Thursday night since I had barely made a dent in the reading material. I had been starting around 8:30 every morning and working til 11 every night and hadn’t made it through HALF the material. I began really dreading going to orientation on Friday. I completely dreaded the thought of school on Monday and the minutes rushed past as if I were on the freeway to hell at breakneck speed.  Friday was orientation and medication dosage workshop. Had little trouble sleeping on Thursday night, was completely exhausted. Friday itself went well, but I was completely overwhelmed with all the work that needed to be done. Luckily they clarified that we were to SKIM the material (if possible) before coming to class. DOH!! I had wasted my entire LAST week of freedom for nothing. GRRRRR…. By this time, it was the weekend and I still had 6 chapters to skim AND had to learn how to do dosages before the EXAM on Tuesday.

GAMETIME Week#1: The first few days I met a few people and walked around in a stupor like everyone else.  BY Wednesday, the week had ended and I was feeling a little bit better.  ACED the dosage exam, but still hadn’t totally gotten the concept of skimming the material.  At certain points, felt high as a kite.  By Wednesday, was feeling great, cause it was “Friday.” By Wednesday night, it was wearing off and was somewhat overwhelmed by all the new homework to come for the next week plus the stuff I hadn’t completely managed to get through from the first week. Then they sent the email assuring us all that we were fine and really not behind, blah blah blah. Obviously they knew we were all feeling stressed and overwhelmed.  (Guess they had done this before? LOL) My mood was completely unpredictable. One minute ok, one minute irritable, one minute bitchy.  Thursday was another meltdown. Barely maintained on Friday and the weekend was HORRIBLE.  All went to hell with the kids – was a disaster of EPIC proportions. My daughter’s (late) birthday celebration – her boyfriend didn’t bother to show, she showed up late, didn’t bother to save us any time except for a quick dinner, my son decided he wanted to go home a day early (hadn’t seen him in 5 weeks), I LOST it in the bathroom at the restaurant…. It just got worse and worse from there. Sunday went to see my parents to help improve my mood and practice blood pressure, but Mom was sick and slept the whole time and Dad’s blood pressure was at stroke level. WTF!!!!

Week #2: Monday was shitty.  My mood was horrible.  I didn’t want to be at school, wasn’t in the mood for anything, was tired and my ears hurt. My main support person from the old job (who I could stop by and see on lunchbreaks) was on vacation this week! AHHHHHHH! Went home, took a nap, did homework, had no dinner and moped around. Ears were killing me, freezing, face was on fire, achy, felt terrible.  Boyfriend gave me pity sex for the first time in MANY weeks (THANK GOD!!!) but since he had hurt his back, literally within miliseconds, first question was “Are you done? GET OFF!” Had a total and complete meltdown. The end. I’m DONE. Inside I was destroyed and obliterated, competely hopeless that anything was ever going to get better.
Tuesday - Woke up with no pain in the ears. This is promising. I was determined that I was going to pull myself out of this SHIT. Went to school and my new friends were waiting for me. This is even more promising.  They wanted to sit together in lecture today. Hmmmm. Okay, cool. Class was good today and I realize I’ve got this! And I also realize I’m doing ok. I am finally figuring out how much I need to do to prepare, how much to read, how much to study, etc…. BUT I’ve been sweating this afternoon for 2 weeks – blood pressure. UGH! I SUCK at it. I know, how can I be a nurse if I can’t do F-ing blood pressure?!?! Today is practice lab.  Nervous wreck, but so is everyone else.  Finally get to BP station and a new friend knows I am sweating it, plops her arm down and says “blow it up, girl. Let’s do this.” I DO IT! YES! This is THE DAY! So, class is over, I am happy. I’m leaving and bump into an old friend from Microbiology and she’s in Nsg semester 2! We talk for an hour and a half in the parking lot! I am soooo happy!
Wednesday – Today was good again.  I am thinking I am getting the hang of this, but I am afraid to get too comfortable, cause guess what tomorrow is? THURSDAY. UGH… I HATE Thursdays. The last few have really not been so good, so far. I need to do something to make SURE Thursday is not such a horrible day.  Of course, tomorrow just HAS to be the day my boyfriend has to work late – which means he’ll be gone from morning til 11PM. AHHHHHHHHH! Double trouble. Double lonely.  Okay, so this is a test.  I’ll see what I can do.  Here goes nothing….

Wish me luck,

PseudoPsycho Baby Nurse

Well, not really.  I COULD change things.  I HAVE options, they just aren’t good ones. I am making the conscious decision to continue on with things like they are.  For now.  It’s not that bad. It’s really not.  But for one moment, I am going to peek. I’m going to pull that lid open just a little teensy, weensy bit.  I’m here, aren’t I? This is the only safe place. I have no other alternative.  I’m not even positive that it’s all THAT safe here, but I’m willing to risk it. I have to. The pressure, remember?

***

The phone rang. It said “withheld.” My heart JUMPED.  I thought maybe… My heart has been missing beats ever since.  Is it possible? You have no idea how desperately I miss you. God you just don’t know how desperately I miss the way you talked to me. I miss the way you used to tell me how you loved to look at me. I miss the way you were so supportive and adoring.  I miss our talks. I miss having someone who actually WANTED to listen, who CARED about what I have to say. OH GOD to have someone tell me ANYTHING positive, ANYTHING supportive. Sometimes it physically hurts to suffer so bad emotionally. To have someone touch me tenderly. To hold me, smell my hair, tell me how much you love me and want me in your life. To make love to me again and lay with me – like you want me there. No one knows what I’m living through.  No one knows how bad it is and I can’t tell.  I only have 1 friend who has any idea (and even she doesn’t know the whole story).  She has begged me to come stay with her, but I won’t.  I can’t.  It’s only for another year or so.  I think Mom knows.  I can tell when she looks at me.  She has hinted and then she gives me “the look.” The one that sees inside my soul? She asks me how I stand it and why I tolerate it, but she knows.

I miss the way we talked, shared our thoughts, our feelings. We dreamed together; we DID things together. We enjoyed each other’s company.  I still remember the feel of your face, your chest, your body. How, after 5 years, can I still remember everything so vividly? I remember the stings and the issues too, but I see now the true value of the good things.

When I got your email and you told me that you dream that someday I might call and say that I love you and want to be together forever, my chest just heaved from the sobbing. Nobody gets it. Nobody understands.  I want to tell you everything so bad. I desperately long to turn to you for comfort and conversation, but I can’t…. I pray I can persevere through this wait.

***

Okay, that’s enough. I have to stop. I can’t let too much out because if I do, I can’t contain it.  I have to get it back under control and maintain again.  I have to put emotional needs aside and remember that other needs are more pressing right now. I need to focus on my goals. I have another year, maybe a little more and then I can move on. People do this all the time.  People in prison. People who have to go to war. People who leave to go abroad or long distances for various reasons. I can do this. It’s only another year or so. I can put my emotional needs away again. Besides, we can talk as friends and I have this special place to go for comfort.

Nobody has to “get” us baby. We do. Come lay with me. I’ll be right here.

Yes, I still love you. And yes, I want to be with you. Forever. Every day. For the rest of our lives.

How I wish I could tell. Maybe some day, if it isn’t too late, I can actually say it out loud – so you can hear me.

I haven’t been able to listen to this song for years. Now it’s haunting me.

I asked my daughter the other day if it’s weird that I haven’t remarried since my divorce.  I’ve been on my own since December of 2003, 7 years, and officially divorced for 5 years. She said she would love to see me happily married, but that it’s okay.  Better to not make a mistake and settle for less than I deserve.  Does this mean I’ll spend the rest of my life alone? Does this mean there’s no one out there for me?  Does it mean that I’ve been irreparably damaged that I’ll never allow myself to love again? I have built a huge wall around my heart and nobody – but nobody – gets in there.  How do you bust down those walls? Does it happen naturally?  Does it just happen when the right person with the right tools comes along? Maybe like a key that fits exactly right in the lock I so viciously protect? When Mr. Right comes along, will I be unable to stop the unlocking or will I be too stubborn and fight until the keymaster is forced away?

I don’t even know if this relationship is over.  After a few days, I usually break down.  Not yet.  Do other people think as much as I do?  I think I think instead of allow the feelings to feel.  It’s easier to analyze than to feel.   I mean, to feel pain, what fun is THAT???  I’m terrified of being alone but I don’t want to be with anyone either.  I’m a really neat, hot mess.  My stomach hurts so bad but I press on.  I thought if I started writing, I might find answers to my questions, but all I have done is come up with more questions.  *sigh* Maybe I should just go to bed.

nahhhhhh. More Grey’s Anatomy.  Yeah, less thinking, less feeling, more busy-ness.  Silent misery.  Fill the void with noise.   Maybe I won’t notice.

I think I will think less, feel less, and go to bed.

~Sandy

I am so far from perfect that I’m little Ms. IM-Perfect.  I used to be filled to the brim with self-confidence. For a while now, life has been nothing less than hectic, chaotic, and just plain crazy.  I have gained a bunch of weight in the frenetic pace of working full-time and going to college.  I have about 2 1/2 years to go and until now, I was fairly satisfied with just riding it out and then worrying about it all.  I know what I need to do, but who the hell has the motivation, much less the energy!?! I think my poor self-esteem has taken a serious blow mostly because of this weight gain.

Over the last 6 years or so, my daughter and I have been very estranged and our relationship was so strained, we could barely communicate at all.  I prayed and cried and threw temper-tantrums to God to make it better.  My heart broke into a thousand pieces and I never thought it would heal.  Over the last 6 months, she came back into my life with a burning desire to be with me.  I can never, ever express the gratitude and joy I feel because of this.  Now, her life has changed such that she’s moving in with me and my boyfriend. Talk about a 180! It’s almost like a slumber party every night.  She and I talked tonight and I asked if she’d exercise with me.  She was ecstatic.  I think starting tomorrow, we’ll begin with walking.  She might just kill me, I don’t know.  Working at the hospital, she walks a minimum of 7 miles a day!!! Me? Maybe 0.25 on a good day!

So, now I’m getting the motivation AND I have support.  It’s January; I have a resolution and, now,  I have a partner.  I also have a supporter and a challenger.  All is not lost or forgotten.  Maybe we’ll just get to work on this self-esteem issue.  Maybe they can help me as much as I’m helping them.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop considering whether I’m settling or accepting and go on with the business of rebuilding.  I’d say time will eventually grant me “the great reveal” about just which one I’m doing.   Seems kinda funny.  A lot of things have happened lately so the stars are aligned just right and I seem to stand to gain as much as I give – without even realizing it.  Guess opening myself up and letting others in has really been a good thing.  Who knows, time will tell….

Thank you for challenging me gently.  I really needed that.

Peace and love,

Sandy

Overall, life is good.  I love school.  It’s hard as hell to work full-time while doing it, but I am doing it.  Work isn’t too bad. I don’t care a lot for my new boss, but she’s getting the job done.  Home is good too.  I moved into a house and my man decided to take the upside of the ultimatum: either come with me or we’ll see ya.  :-) He’s still here and we’re happy as clams in the house. The love is good too.  Sometimes I get a little restless, but then I remember that no one is perfect and he’s pretty damn good about putting up with me… Been enjoying some old friends and remembering good ol’ days.  Loving my current friends and making those relationships better and better.  So, yeah, I’m doin’ alright.

It’s almost New Year’s so I guess it’s time for my annual “Year In Review.”  Better get to thinking.

Happy New Year all,

Sandy