I caved and asked for (and received) extensions on my papers. That allows me (kind of) to concentrate on getting my poster done by early morning tomorrow at the LATEST. So here’s my new to-do by date.
ASAP - like maybe today? - Come up with hypothesis to test for a multiple regression analysis and a chi-square with the variables from the class thingy... (look at the damn class thingy).
3/28 by 10:00AM - Create, finalize, and overnight mail order poster.
3/28 - once poster is ordered, take out some cash from bank, go to damn laundromat...
3/29 - receive poster. PAAAAAAACK. (Write up kitty feeding instructions...)
3/30 (ish) - EBP paper. Though thankfully I have a “let me know your progress and what you need” extension from that professor - shockingly lenient, for him. I didn’t expect that when I asked. PHEW, though. I intend to be done by 4/4 at the latest... (Awww, Luna’s birthday!)
3/30 (actually) - EBP exam. Study, study, study. @caitz1129 this might require you to quiz me while we’re in the car. We’ll get to that later.
3/31 by 7PM ish - set up and present poster at APA Division 32 conference. Most of my professors are doing paper/panel presentations, and there are some names I actually KNOW in the program... I’m not nervous... there’s no pressure... I actually got new shoes for this. >.>
3/31 - 4/2 - Enjoy Pittsburgh? Also write up and prepare stats project for presentation.
4/2 - email finished Psychopath Three Ways paper to the other awesome professor who gave me an extension. Normally I don’t do this... I just got in over my head at the semester’s end. >< I didn’t expect a big conference like this to accept my poster proposal! As the boyfriend said, I undersell myself... Next year I’ll pay attention to when things are due when I’m proposing presentations for conferences.
4/3 - Hand in multicult paper, make sure above prof received Psychopath paper, review materials and ace psychopathology exam.
4/4 - Die a little, maybe finish EBP paper if unfinished, and email to prof.
4/7 - Semester ends. Fucking DONE. Die a little. Maybe see the parents this weekend with the boyfriend, celebrate making it through the semester with (hopefully) all A’s again, boyfriend’s birthday (3/26), mom’s birthday (3/30), and just... life.
Okay, so making to-do lists helps organize me and doesn’t overwhelm me. They show me that while maybe I have multiple things due on one day, I can DO them on different days. Got it. Now to get my ass packed up and off to school. Today, poster and stats project. But mostly poster. So poster with a side of considering stats project if my brain will do the thing.
The only reason I know it’s not Monday is my boyfriend isn’t here.
>.O
It absolutely feels like a Monday. I have a quizxam (because I don’t know if he’s calling it a damn quiz or an exam) in stats this morning, and I have no idea what - OH right, I have a take-home exam due for the other class by Saturday night.
I also have my three-different-schools-of-thought-on-psychopathic-personality paper due on the 27th (Either I’ll surprise myself and make this deadline like a BAMF, or I’m gonna need until like the 10th to get it done).
I have to have my “Humanizing Batterers” poster in my hands to take with me on the 29th.
My four-different-papers-in-one paper is due on the 30th, when I will be in Pittsburgh.
Also on the 30th I have an exam for the same class as the four-papers-in-one paper.
On the 31st I give my poster spiel to people as they walk by and hope I catch peoples’ attention with it.
On the 3rd (which is the Monday I get back from Pittsburgh) I have a paper due about my experience doing community outreach (which I may or may not have actually done... -cough-). I’m not sure how long that’s supposed to be, but I imagine this professor will at least be okay with me turning it in a bit late.
On the 3rd I’m pretty sure I also have an exam in my psychopathology class... and aaaaaaaallllll of that is supposed to happen in the next 11 days. Including writing two papers and designing a poster (which I’m sure will be overnight-mailed again)...
><
This means I might have to miss my (presumably) future little sister’s science olympiad this weekend. OR I take my computer, lug it along, and do what work I can. Or I just take ONE day to be human and forget about the work. I love her and I love that she’s into the STEM fields as well as art and music. Like, she could EASILY be my biological little sister.
Which reminds me. The boyfriend and I actually had the talk about name-changing last weekend. It came up when I talked about telling my dad that he had to stay alive long enough for me to make stupid jokes about people not being able to tell the two of us apart because we’d both be doctors in very similar fields (but with different credentials). My boyfriend said, “You might be a different doctor by then,” just sort of in passing.
I said, “What if I wanna keep my last name?”
And he just looked at me.
I snorted because I couldn’t keep the “innocent, wide-eyed, blinking” look going for that long, and admitted that I had always planned to change my last name. Because while I’m all for keeping the family name going, there are SOME old fashioned traditions I don’t mind so much.
He made a comment about hyphenating, and then we tried it and it was just... like... no. I never wanted to do that anyway. I’d be happy to be one of their family, and mine will happily take him in. And they’ll love his little sister.
The one thing I’m REALLY happy about is that neither set of parents is pushing for grandchildren, or poking us, like “when’re you getting engaged? When are you getting married? Huh? Huh?”
I finally had one friend straight up ask me “So when are you gonna marry this guy? He’s perfect for you!” and I did not know what to do. I just said we were taking things slowly - and we are. He KNOWS I don’t need a wedding to plan on top of everything else.
***Skip if avoiding marriage/wedding babble***
Besides - his parents AND mind would want some sort of huge ceremony AND celebration. But luckily they don’t get to make that decision unless they’re paying for everything, and neither family has the capacity for that. The actual marriage ceremony might be very small, once we get to figuring that out. We agree, at least, that there should be an awesome reception, but... I dunno. Neither of us want the big ceremonial thing. I’d be so, so happy to have family, bridesmaids/groomsmen, and like five friends from each side somewhere pretty. The reception would be the celebration and the fun part anyway, and more people could actually enjoy that, us included.
We have not had the bachelor/bachelorette party discussion(s) yet. I’m indifferent. Lol.
SO SORRY ABOUT THE BABBLE.
Kind of.
I dunno. It makes me happy. He makes me happy. ALSO, he cleaned like the entire apartment last weekend. Okay it was just the living room, but the amount of cleaning he did in a couple hours would’ve taken me three days. And he did it of his own accord, out of the blue, and even had a talk with me about how he’s happy to be able to help me, and how cleaning this place makes it feel more like home to him - which is the actual next step. Once things calm down at his job (lots of changes taking place), and he’s ready, we’re moving him in here for real. But the fact that he feels at home here means everything to me.
Ugh. I have to get ready to go, like, 12 minutes ago - 13 - and I do not want. Yeeeeey stats quizxam...
I think I have them when I eat too much too close to bed. But when your boyfriend makes tacos and they’re good... I mean... I can’t really blame myself.
Also, entertainingly, my ex from like almost a decade ago still had my phone number, and started texting me. He was narcissistic to the point of emotional neglect, and the attention he did give me was pretty abusive; he did a lot of damage. I had been wondering what he got up to. Y’know, what had become of his life, somehow show off what had become of mine - since I’m all successful ‘n’ shit. But it wasn’t like I’d ever contact him or seek him out to do so.
He texts me some vague bullshit without his name that sounds like my friend when her mania broke years ago; I don’t recognize the number, so I block it.
Weeks later he messages me on Facebook. A lot. I assume he has ulterior motives, but entertain conversation for a bit. He sounds like he has absolutely gone off the deep end. I can’t decide if I’m amused or if he’s right about some stuff. Not the first time I’ve heard the kind of rhetoric he was spewing, about the world being interconnected and all of us being an extension of one another, like he’s been enlightened.
If he really has, and he has not, in fact, gone off the deep end, fantastic. I’m happy for him. Some of the things he told me, though... with my dreams... other planes of existence... I don’t know. I’d love to believe that kind of thing because it might mean that some of the things I’ve experienced in my dreams have been real... and that would be incredible. And some things I’ve experienced in the waking world have also been real - and that would be incredible.
Sometimes crazy people aren’t so crazy - and sometimes the sane are not so much.
I fully intend to rub it in his face that I am in a beautifully healthy, happy relationship with a wonderful man, and take jabs at him whenever I can for all the damage he caused me. But maybe I’ll let us become friends. He was already talking about seeing me in person again, and my reaction was to laugh... because NO ONE sees me. I’m holed up in my apartment most of the time, or at school.
I do have to comment, though - first, god fucking dammit, it’s Monday. That means multicult. And psychopathology. :D
!! AND I HAVE ONE WEEK TO GET THE PAPER FOR THAT CLASS DONE good thing all the research (most of the research) I need is sitting on the table next to me. I still have to grab a few articles for psychopathy as an evolutionary advantage and maybe try to find more about the social learning perspective... I’m overwhelmed. I need to not go to school today and just spend the time writing instead.... hahahaha I have - what, 3 days to write and turn in the other paper? Talk about writing well under pressure. I should’ve been working on this for a LOT longer.
I have 9 days to create and get my poster in my hands for this next conference. I need it to be good...
I mean, I need everything I do to be good because I’m a raging perfectionist and it gets in my fucking way ALL the damn time... but yeah.
I did this to myself. Time to get my ass moving... in a few ways...
Y’know, I keep running into more and more issues I thought I had worked through already.
Went to the doctor’s office yesterday, I thought I had at least lost a little bit of the weight I put on with the Abilify, but I weighed in at 134.7lbs.
I’m about 15 pounds heavier than the number I like seeing on the scale. Confusingly as hell, I didn’t think I really looked heavier?? But I’m so bothered and disturbed by the number it kind of sent me on a spiral. I looked again and suddenly I saw it, and my face shape is different, my arms are bigger, my ASS is bigger, and somehow I can still almost see my six-pack.
I...
My immediate instinct was to curl up in a corner and not eat anymore.
I have enough wherewithal to not do that, but it says a lot to me that I even had that thought. It’s not like I don’t know how to lose weight... but the thing is, if I could work out frequently enough, the number wouldn’t matter to me. Or at least it’d matter less, because I could attribute it to muscle gain.
But I haven’t been working out frequently. At all. So I KNOW that number wasn’t because I’m a veritable wall of lean muscle. Practically, practically, I realize I have not been eating. Like, I forget about food because I’m stressed, and half the time I feel better when I don’t eat.
That is related to my anxiety surrounding food, which is connected to my crohn’s. As in, I never know what’s going to make me feel awful, or trigger stomach pain, and put me out of commission for the day. Sometimes I get so afraid of that possibility that I just... don’t eat. And I let myself do it because (sometimes) I can actually get shit done that way.
Problem is, I’ve now taught my body to cling to everything I eat, so it’s not burning right, and it’s not... It’s not responding right to food. It’s like everything I eat is a problem somehow. I eat a sandwich, I’m nauseated and can’t function for the rest of the day. I eat something that won’t hurt, but it’s simple sugars/carbs.
Every time my crohn’s flares up, or I have stomach issues, I have to re-conquer this fear, and reteach my body to handle food, and I’m so sick of it. Slipping back into not eating is so much easier, until it affects me in the exact way I don’t want. And when that happens, my body dysmorphic disorder rears its disgusting, ugly head, and I have to reset my perception of reality.
Do you have ANY idea how hard that is?
I’m so tired. I just... am really, really tired.
OH - and then the extra fun part is when I start trying to eat again, I either eat almost nothing portion wise, or eat a semi-normal portion and have heart palpitations. Like the ones I’m having right now as I finish off my frozen broccoli snack. I bet there was too much sodium in that.
I have trouble with sodium for some bizarre reason. And onion. And garlic. And, y’know, food. Also my body. -Sigh-
I just want it to warm the fuck up so I can run. Running would help so, so many things. It levels me out emotionally, it helps me feel like I’m gaining muscle and have some control over my body, that maybe I’m stronger than I think, it kicks up my metabolism, and it helps me stop giving a shit about numbers on a scale.
The pain definitely doesn’t help. It’s hard to work out when my body already hurts. But I could get past it, y’know? If I could do something that I felt actually had an effect. Ha, that ALSO has to do with my perception of reality.
I’m tired of having to fight my own body to function. There’s so much I ignore on a daily basis that I struggle with... sometimes I just want the day to be over ASAP... problem with that is then I’ve lost another day being exhausted instead of productive.
I have three papers to write before the end of the month, and a poster to create in the next 10 days or so... and I don’t even want to think about any of it. I may actually take a nap and figure this out another time...
It’s about 4:20AM here. My dreams bothered me enough that I woke up at 3. My alarm was set to 4. -Sigh-
I don’t even remember what I dreamed about. I know I fell asleep with a purring kitten snuggling me... :)
But yeah, one of the conferences at which I’m presenting is today. But I don’t present until halfway through the day. Which is fine. My buddy and I are getting energy drinks and coffee - we’re gonna need ‘em. I’m so overwhelmed I don’t know where to start. I have my poster, handouts, and references.
What do I wear? But like seriously... My hair is going up and I think I’m wearing lipstick (oh god) or something, but WHAT GOES ON THE REST OF MY BODY? I have a couple ideas, but I don’t know if they’re comfy enough to pull off wearing for, oh, 18 hours, give or take. I could wear my stupidly long (but comfy) velour dress with a shirt on top to make it a bit less... dressish. I could also wear this ridiculously short dress I have that I could NEVER wear without pants, over pants, but both of those require long sleeves and a coat on top... I want to do up my makeup like I used to (so I think I will).
I was going through pictures on my phone, and I looked SO much happier in the summer. Now I look mostly tired. Maybe I’ll find enough makeup to look a bit more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I wish it wasn’t too late - errrrrr... early?? - to play piano. I plodded my way through Tempest last night, first with left hand then with right (oh god I’m rhyming) and my arms and wrists ache. This feels like arthritis. I don’t know if it’s because I’m pushing the speed more with that piece (probably), or if it’s because I keep playing it over and over again, but my right hand is having a lot of trouble with octaves. It doesn’t want to stretch. My left hand (oddly) is fine. I wonder if this is because I’ve had trouble with my left hand in the past more than my right, and have worked more to strengthen it. Probably. It’s always been weaker than my right. I did have to pause to shake out my left hand a couple times playing, but I had to start a couple sections over with my right completely because I missed notes... I’m sure it doesn’t help that the piano is against an outer wall, which brings it closer to the cold that is outside, but you’d think the muscles in my hands would eventually warm up, right??
Speaking of limbs and hands, WHAT THE FUCK DO I PUT ON MY FEET TODAY?? I have my “court boots” in the car, but do I want to wear (low) heels all day?? CAN I even do that? I mean I’m sure I’ll have opportunities to sit at times, but like... Well, I mean I used to wear them in court, and that used to last... not 18 hours... *SIGH*... well, at least 4 of them will be in a car. Only like an hour will be standing for sure, next to my poster... here’s hoping the thing decides to stay upright.
While I’m fucking things up, I may as well write - nooooo that’s a bad idea... lol. I was going to follow the advice of a therapist I spoke with and write a letter to my dad - a real, honest, feels-filled letter about how I... uh, feel, ever since his strokes. My family has always kind of been a solid triangle of a main caretaker (mom), a child (me), and a co-caretaker (dad). Yeah I’m an only child. But since my dad had two strokes in 2013, the roles have shifted and I’ve become co-caretaker and have been involved in and advising mom in his treatment. I convinced them to make some very serious, but - as it turned out - very crucial changes in his medications and doctors. But at the same time... I mean, I take pride in being a caretaker of sorts. It’s my default role, really. But when I’m struggling with my own mental and physical health, I still need help, sometimes. When I have to chase my medications (which finally arrived, thank gods) but I have a presentation and a paper to write in one class, two take-home exams, a project, and two extremely involved, long papers due in the next few weeks? Yeah, I need help.
“What about your boyfriend?”
Well, we just had that conversation where I admitted, very painfully, through a lot of tears, and inability to look him in the eye, that I needed his help sometimes, too, but I don’t want to take him from his family, who also need him. I don’t want to put that kind of demand on him.
“You have to talk.” was his one condition for us getting and staying back together. I’m trying, but admitting that I need help is (still) one of the hardest things for me to do, especially when I don’t know what it is exactly that I need help with. I’ve asked him to pick up medications for me a couple times and he’s done so without question, the wonderful person. I can’t have him call doctors for me, I can’t have him call my insurance company - there are some exceptions where I could authorize him to speak on my behalf, but it’s not like he doesn’t have his own stuff to do. He works, he has a full-time job making more damn money than I did at my last job.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t resent him for any of it. In fact, his mom and little sister asked him to ask me if she could sort of unofficially see me for a little counseling, and I adore her so I’m jumping at the opportunity. I adore his family. They remind me so much of mine.
(Also, I fixed the shoe problem. Old, chunky heels I didn’t think fit me actually fit me. Go figure. These also might hurt after awhile, but, uh, so might anything else, and I don’t have flats. Just Vibrams, boots, and heels. Whoops.)
Anyway.
Love boyfriend’s family. Love his little sister. I always make jokes about stealing her. If/when he and I get engaged, I’m planning to propose to her and ask her to be my little sister. ^_^ The “if” is not on his side, it’s on mine.
I asked him at some point, “how can I build a life with someone --” he squeezed me when I said that “--when I can’t even manage my own?” And he made a very good point... that it’s not just me building a life. It’s us. Together. Working together - which we actually do very well, when it comes down to it - to make a life.
But yeah, when I said I didn’t want to ask him to help when he has so much going on, he shook his head and said “I don’t have a problem helping you. I love you. There’s no demand.”
I just really have trouble getting past the idea that our relationship isn’t 50/50. I’m not helping him as much as he’s helping me, period. But then, he doesn’t have the health problems I do. Which is supposed to make it okay, somehow, but... I dunno. I still can’t accept my health problems. I struggle against them because I don’t want them to rule me, but by struggling against them, that’s exactly what they’re doing. Because it is a constant struggle. If I just accepted the crohn’s and chronic pain, I would probably handle it better, but that means taking them into me and also somehow not identifying with them...? This is why I need someone who can out-psychologize me.
It’s also an hour ‘til I have to leave... better start packing my shit. I guess I’m taking my... rolling bag with my school crap in it (just in case I have a minute to work on something (which means my computer is coming with me)). Worst that can happen is that I don’t delve into it and I carry too much with me. Right? >.>
Okay, so I sorta broke down at my boyfriend a little on Saturday because I’ve been struggling a lot with feeling “human.” As in, I don’t. I finally talked to him about having zero libido and only being able to guess that it was coming from stress and depression.
I spent all of Friday chasing down the medications that are basically keeping me alive (Humira and methotrexate injections - because Mesalamine, no matter where I put it, apparently only does so much, even at high doses). I’m glad I connected with someone intelligent at my specialty-care pharmacy who was willing to call my doctor’s office to speak to the office assistant (who was trying to handle authorizing these meds (the methotrexate shouldn’t need an authorization, which is what confused me (and the pharmacy assistant), but my doctor wanted to try raising the Humira to every week instead of every other week, which does require an authorization).
Long, incredibly bitchy story short, the pharmacy assistant ended up calling me, laughing (once he verified that it was actually me), and told me how he had ended up trying to explain pharmacy law to this woman, and that they had gone around and around and around because she could not wrap her head around the idea that pharmacies dispense medication, but there has to be a prescription, and THESE medications needed to go through insurance - who did not dispense these medications.
TL;DR - this mush-for-brains is the reason I have now missed three shots of methotrexate, and almost missed one of the Humira (due to take this one Wednesday, provided it arrives by then ), and now we have to file an appeal because the insurance rejected the request for authorizing every-week Humira dosing. “We” meaning I, really, because I’ll be damned if I let her handle it. I’m going to make sure my doctor is fully aware of what’s been going on in his office. He needs a new person with a brain.
SO that’s what’s been stressing me out, and making me feel like shit recently... On top of being in Michigan, where fast, huge weather changes are a thing, and I’m a human barometer... it sucks.
But yeah. As far as having no libido and having a bit of an aversion to sex, I think on some level I feel like my boyfriend shouldn’t want me. Like, there’s no possible way he still loves me and finds me attractive when I bleed from the wrong place, am in constant pain, chase (prescription) drugs like my life depends on it (ha, I joke because it does). So I do things that lead to self-verification of my extant beliefs...
Going into psychologist mode - ready? Nope.
So, I have been doing a piss-poor job with self-care. Like, my apartment is a mess, I go days without showering, I hardly eat, I’m isolating... all I do for self-care is music, and I put eye makeup on when I have school or something. I gained like 10 pounds from the trial my psychiatrist insisted on of Abilify - in under a month, no less - and I’m having a hell of a time shedding it, though the bloating seems to have gone away, the pounds don’t seem to have done so, which is triggering my history with anorexia.
SO. By not taking care of myself, I justify thinking my boyfriend shouldn’t find me sexy, because I actually AM gross (re: not showering, weighing more than I want to), and he hasn’t moved in with me because I’m a slob and I’m gross, and why would he want to do that in this situation? So if this is the situation I may as well be a slob and be gross and not take care of myself because he must not want someone who doesn’t take care of herself... see how I’m cycling?
And with the sex... I don’t find myself attractive right now, so I find it really hard to believe that anyone else would. So it feels forced/fake, and I’m not interested in fake (which it isn’t, really). But with that, I’m sorta creating a self-fulfilling prophecy of not wanting sex because I don’t think he should want to have sex with me, and finding myself icky, and thinking (based on the, er, difficulty he had last time we tried) that he doesn’t really want me... which is why it feels forced to me, and makes me uninterested.
That’s one theory, anyway. I think I’m doing this to myself. So what’s the next step? How do I fix this? I’m not sure. Logic says I start with self-care and self-love... and maybe I let him seduce me even if I think I’m disgusting. Maybe I do things in self-care-land to help myself feel less disgusting. Like starting up yoga-ing again.
And maybe picking up some gentle, slower piano pieces to learn in addition to the furious Rachmaninov and unrelenting Tempest I picked. But THAT is another post. It’s almost 6:40 and class starts slightly after 8:30.
Now that I’m studying bio, may I just say how fervently I wish my primary association with the words “alpha, beta, omega” was literally anything other than what it is
My nutrition professor was talking about vitamins and said, “the only reason you all even know the words alpha and omega is because of sororities,” and I wanted so badly to raise my hand and be like “if you’re gonna be a dick for some reason, please let me explain to you in depth my immediate connotations for those words”
I think an important thing about spoon theory that abled people don’t get and that isn’t talked about enough outside the community is how unpredictable spoons are and how long-lasting the effects of shortages can be.
Like people get that I don’t have as much energy, but they’ll assume that I have some idea how much energy I have. I don’t. It’s completely unpredictable. It’s not like I get 20 spoons a day, or like I get 20 spoons per morning if I slept well that night. I can sleep fine and wake up feeling well, but then an hour later I have to go to bed again because I can’t move and I don’t know why. Then the next day I might be able to do more than usual and be fine, or maybe I overshot how much I was actually able to do and now I’ll be recovering for the rest of the week.
And running on low spoons for too long or pushing myself too hard can have a negative effect for a week, or a month, or years, and I also have no way to predict this. It’s kind of like how if you leave your car lights on once and run your car battery down it’ll probably be okay once it gets a jump, but then again you might have drained it too much and now it’ll be really weak and finicky until you replace it.
Except of course I can’t just go to the mechanic/doctor and get a new battery. If I push myself too hard one month it might take me three or four months to rest constantly and re-figure out why my pain and fatigue are bad in the first place, and three or four months of NEVER depleting or pushing past my spoon shortage again to get back to normal, or else I’ll have to take more time to recover.
The spoon theory is great, but when you’re living with low spoons chronically, there’s a lot more complexity and impossibility to managing life with spoons than most abled people who think they understand spoons seem to think there is.
For me this either means I did TERRIBLY, or I did so disgustingly well the prof doesn’t want the other students to see it. Either way I have the same “oh god” reaction every time.
Tuesday blahs - absolute babble. Do not read unless you’re REALLY bored and desperate.
Running is a moment of escape, but I run the same path(s) all the time. Even running outside, I'm on a treadmill. I’m running in circles, even in my own head.
I see the patterns I’m repeating. Resisting assignments from school that I don’t agree with, procrastinating a self-assigned... thing with an important deadline because I’m scared, and a perfectionist, and reprimanding myself for not doing it yet, all the while feeling incapable of doing it in the first place...
I have a poster to create. And have printed, and in my hands BY 3/9 at the very latest. I’ve written the paper that this is based on. I have my sources. I have everything done in the background. I’m afraid to present, because this is the beginning of my professional career - really. I’m pretty sure I’m the only first year doc student who was accepted to present at TWO conferences.
The first one is less of a big deal, so I’m planning to use it as practice. Kind of. BUT I HAVE TO HAVE MY FUCKING POSTER DONE IN ORDER TO SHOW UP AND ACTUALLY PRESENT IT. ><
All night my kitten and her mother were running around, climbing the box spring resting against the wall no matter how I shook it (I didn’t have the spray bottle), climbing onto my nightstand - eventually I saw Addie go to climb onto the nightstand and tried to knock her away, but she tried to cling to the thing and knocked over a mostly-empty can of drink I had sitting there.
... -sigh-
My mini-manuscript notebook that had been knocked to the floor before took the brunt of the liquid damage... luckily I had only written a couple little melodies in the thing. It still somehow made me sad.
Like trying to come to terms with being a psychologist first and a musician second. Or third. Because I’m also mother to three cats. And sometimes I worry that none of them are happy, that I’m just a shitty mom, period.
I live in a world I don’t want to force a child into. I’m terrified that my child would struggle with chronic pain, or inherit my crohn’s, or depression, or whatever the hell is wrong with me. Or what if I’d just be a bad mother? I don’t even know if I could have kids. So I’m back to this. Feeling the kittens move in Siren’s belly may have been the closest I’ll ever come to feeling that (as bizarre as it was, and as much as it creeps me out a little to think of that happening inside me, and all the things that could happen during pregnancy)... Not that I’m baby-crazy, but I’d like to have a child eventually. I also want to talk to my boyfriend about the what-ifs, y’know? What if one of us is sterile? Could he handle adoption?
I could love an adopted baby as my own. I know I could - when I was working at my last job, where I became part of people’s families for 4-6 months, I loved those children. I still think about some of them. A lot of them left marks on my heart. A lot of them changed my mind about wanting children. But if I can’t physically have one... well, maybe that’s a conversation to have if it’s necessary.
Everyone around me seems like they’re either pregnant or trying to get pregnant. I’ve watched friends’ progress - everyone seems so happy when it happens. No one gets scared - cautiously optimistic is the worst I’ve seen.
I mean I have three rules - Must have started my career (i.e. getting paid as psychotherapist/psychologist), must be married, must be planning for said child(ren). One of them is about to get off the ground, but my guy and I are taking our time with the marriage thing.
Besides, you have to have sex to get pregnant. I have no libido. Occasionally my subconscious does and things happen in my dreams, but yeah. I’m not sure I identify as simply heterosexual in my attractionality style anymore.
Of course, it could be a side effect of chronic pain, or depression... how do you tell? I get intellectual crushes on people of all genders with no sexual attraction. I don’t have a “type.” I hardly ever feel like doing anything sexual. Like I know this is a bit TMI, but sex has never been the focus of my relationship with my boyfriend, and I’ve always been grateful. I thought it had to do with the problems I’ve had throughout life with sex and sexuality and others, but I don’t feel traumatized. I just... have no interest in sex. I enjoy it with the boyfriend when he catches me at the right time, but I’m almost afraid to cuddle sometimes because what if it leads to something and I’m not in the mood? Was I leading him on? Why can’t I just be a normal person with a normal sex drive? I don’t even want to write, read, or watch about it.
I almost have an actual aversion to sex right now. I wish I could decide why. I have at least... four possible reasons. Five.
Huh. I really, truly need a therapist. I’m gonna play some piano and dedicate the rest of the day to the poster.
Definitely singin’ the Monday blues today. Weekend was far too short. I was productive... sort of. I’ve decided I either need glasses, or to have my damn brain scanned - my eyes blur after I look at a screen for too long, or do anything for too long. It’s like they just get tired of seeing. The muscles behind them feel tired, like I overworked them - but I don’t think I am??
I don’t know. If glasses help this, then fine... Or contacts. Those would be GREAT. I’m doing something about it this week. I don’t know what, but yeah. SOMETHING.
Also, side-ramble - my cat Siren is seriously the sweetest thing I’ve ever met. She had a bit of rawr in her when I took her in, but never toward me, only toward Luna, my oldest kitty. Now that Siren had her kittens and has been spayed, she’s calmed down even toward Luna. They have the occasional hiss-fest, but it’s mostly Luna starting it. Or one will walk too close to the other, so the “other” will swing and the walker will hiss, or swing back, but there’s not really any actual fighting. I almost want to put caps on their claws one day and just lock them up in the bathroom or some equally small enclosure, see if I can get them to get it out of their systems. I feel like they wouldn’t do anything, though - they’d just sit in corners quietly growling or hissing with maybe a swipe here and there...
All that said, Siren is such a loving girl. You can just tell she’s grateful that we kept one of her kittens, and that this is where the kitten wanted to be. Addie is such a happy kitten she actually acts like a puppy sometimes - comes when you call her, will stand up and ask for food (and wait for it to be put down before she eats), licks my nose when she wakes me up... Siren includes me in her grooming sometimes. She’ll be on my lap cleaning herself and turn her head to lick my arm/hand/whatever. She loves to lean against the piano while I play (even if I’m just clunking through a rough section of Tempest (I really do need to learn the whole thing, not just the Allegro section...)). Addie needs to learn “down” a little better, but I’ll take care of that. Positive reinforcement needs to make a comeback, I think.
Luna has relaxed a LOT. She now eats with Addie at the same placemat. Unfortunately, Siren has backed away and doesn’t want to eat with the other two... -Sigh-
But yeah, Monday. Not cats. I don’t want to go to this stupid class... Multicultural class is killing me. It’s not multicultural, it’s polarized to POC VS White, and I hate it. I’m so white I’m, like, translucent, but I AM a minority for other reasons, and I refuse to not acknowledge that. Yes, I technically have White privilege, but I’m a woman. I have multiple chronic illnesses. I was born Jewish. Just because I don’t look sick doesn’t mean I’m not. Just because I don’t look Jewish doesn’t mean I’m not. ARGH. It’s not all about appearance. That’s all this teacher seems to see, and it drives me nuts. The only thing convincing me to go to class today is that we have psychopathology in the afternoon, and I love that class. Even without studying I got a 96% on an exam. I got a 95% on the most recent. Gonna have to do a couple points better on the final exam... for... reasons. >.>
Also writing a paper on Psychopathic Personality from a Neuro/biological, Social Learning, and Evolutionary standpoint. Compare and contrast. I haven’t started it yet, but I’m gonna, soon.
First I have to finish my poster for the Michigan Academy of Science, Arts & Letters conference on 3/10... yeeeeeah I’m cutting it a bit close. But that’s been my schtick. I always cut shit close and make it work anyway. Gods, I hope I can do it again.
It’s 6:25AM... better get rolling. Class starts in 2 hours. ><
I hardly know where to begin. I am exhausted. I spent time with my parents yesterday, but some of it involved seeing my father’s psychiatrist and discussing issues with him. One solution appears to be writing a letter to my father (whether I send it/give it to him or not is up for debate). I won’t go into all that here though - let’s say it’s an issue I haven’t really broached in full, and I don’t have the psychic strength to do it right now, no matter how heavily it’s weighing on me.
I didn’t have time (okay I had time but I prioritized things badly (kind of)) over the past couple of days to do my homework for stats, even though it’s JUST interpreting a set of data... we have a quiz today in both my statistics class and my class for evidence-based practice and I’m freaking the F out because my brain is a sieve and is refusing to absorb new information - not that EBP is new information, but shoving certain pieces of it into working memory for the quiz IS.
On the bright side I have a leg up on next semester, provided I live through this one, and have gotten a jump on the neuroanatomy we’re going to learn (and in my case re-learn). I still have to shove 20 hours of volunteer work in SOMEWHERE, and I have to write up an interview for Monday, and I HAVE TO CREATE MY POSTER FOR MY PRESENTATION ON 3/10 AND THE ONE FOR 3/30. I’m freaking out about those because I want to get it right and am a dumbass perfectionist, but there IS no “right.” It’s just a poster. That’s IT.
But I also have to figure out how to stay somewhere for a couple nights for the conference, because the two people who were looking at rooming with me dropped out, and I’m stuck on my own.
I’m pissed off, I feel alone, I have negative spoons, and a really, really long day. Please send energy and love if you happen to read this. If you read this, I apologize.
Also I may have an addiction to Red Vines licorice... And to running.
Oh, that’s a bright side - I’ve started running a bit more regularly. Last run was 5 miles, but it took me FAR too long. We’re talking almost 2 hours. 120 minutes. If I break it down to - well, I can’t really average it accurately because my first 2.5 miles only took me like 35-40 minutes. Still not a 10-minute mile, but yeah. I had to stop a couple times during both laps (I run a path that’s slightly over 2.5 miles and round down to get myself working harder) to walk, or actually stop because my foot was doing a weird, or my calf locked up. The temperature also dropped by like 20 degrees over the course of my - er - course... And by the “5th” mile, I might as well have been walking, I was jogging so slowly... But that was my first time running 5 miles in MONTHS. So I’m giving myself a pass.
That said, my legs are killing me. I need a massage like whoa. Boyfriend will assist this weekend. I also WILL finish the poster before the end of this month and send for it to be printed and mailed to me ASAP... as long as I have it before the 10th, all will be well...
All will be well. I can do this. I’ve done more, I’ve dealt with worse.
That said, I’ve noticed I’m not really improving as quickly as I’d like to with Tempest. I started breaking up the Rachmaninov and drilling/practicing sections of it, but I’m still afraid of the Aggitato middle part. I think I will be afraid of it for awhile, possibly until I can do it with my eyes closed... or at least without looking at the music and double-checking my chords every... uh, chord. Tempest moves, but sometimes I feel like my brain doesn’t want to read both staves, or tries to overcomplicate the bass. I’m like, “Brain. Brain you’re over-correcting again. Brain STAHP.” In the end, the speed of Tempest (at least the Allegretto) is gonna get me. I might actually have to download a metronome app and resign myself to using it. >< Funny enough, my left hand is more solid on the piece than my right. I got lazy practicing my right because, well, I’m right-handed, I should be able to play it fine! Nooooope. Right hand gets sloppy because of less practice. Soon I will download (or just suck it up and buy) a book of etudes for piano - just something else to practice, y’know? To get me up to speed and strength.
Also have to give my kitties credit. Rachmaninov puts them to sleep, even if I’m not using pedals. Siren was curled up against the piano yesterday. Luna loves it when I sing to her, and the music seems to just relax Addie (she is SO big, you guys. I’ll post a picture of her soon...).
Note to self, unrelated: I am in a position to say “no” now. I do not need to be agreeable if it doesn’t suit me. I don’t have to be a bitch, but I don’t have to be quiet anymore. Must remember this. MUST remember this.
But at least I figured out the papers for my two important - well, those are the ones with papers attached. The multicultural class has been a waste of my time thus far.
I have to figure out somewhere to do volunteer work. I was invited to participate in a cat rescue program, but a lot of it involves cleaning cages. I’d love to do something like caring for newborn kittens, or something. I may still try to carve out time to visit the humane society. I was drawn to the cat rescue because it’s just cats. I don’t know how my anxiety would do with barking dogs all around me, but I might be okay. Who knows? And then I have to write a paper about my experience. I’m not worried about that.
Statistics has a project attached to it, which is fine. The quiz today (for which I should be studying and not babbling here), I’m not sure about. Mostly because I haven’t gotten my grades back on the exam, or the second bout of homework, and with anything involving details (and yes, numbers), I get anxious. I don’t trust myself. I always think I screwed up somehow... because I usually do. I make dumb mistakes because I’m nervous, or rushing, and I get it back and -headdesk- because I KNOW I knew the answer. Just like I overthought and probably mixed up type I and II errors, even though I know EXACTLY what they are. I could TEACH you about them, and how to understand them. But I’m almost certain I switched them when I was taking the exam. Test anxiety sucks.
On the bright and awesome side of things, my wonderful boyfriend got us, like, FIFTH row seats to see Stephen Lynch Tuesday night. It was really, honestly fun and funny. I felt human for awhile - no anxiety, no depression, no having to be anything; I took my pain meds early, so even that wasn’t really a problem until the very end of the night. I love that he did that instead of flowers and chocolate. Like. The man knows me well. :)
But no, what I really wanted today was to be cleaning up a hairball when I should be getting ready to leave... good thing it only takes me like 5 minutes to do my makeup, 2 for a touch-up.
I had a thoroughly realistic, first-person dream/creepy thing/nightmare? where I went back to the house I picked and got back together with my abusive ex, abandoning my current wonderful boyfriend without so much as an explanation. My ex roommate-terror from way back when signed me up for like, mail-away shoes, or something, and the first package was coming to this (new) address...
EXCUSE YOU, BRAIN.
I even started thinking things in the dream like “Wow, I fucked up,” and “this is the same problem we had before,” and missing my boyfriend. I hate my brain sometimes and I have no idea where that came from.
Just - EXCUSE YOU BRAIN. BRAIN. WATER YOU DOIN. BRAIN. STAHHHHHP.
