My Little Open Book

This blog is my official journal. To read it is to be able to see inside of me for a brief moment. Anything written or posted in this blog has come from the strange place that I like to call my mind. The only other things that will go into this blog, aside from my journal entries, are funny quotes from my life. And as ridiculous as some of the quotes may seem, they were all actually said by my friends or family. Occasionally, you might also see a few re-blogs of things that I REALLY think I need to remember - good life lessons and what-not. Anyway, if you're a diligent little creeper like I hope you are if you're reading this, you'll more than likely be getting a very detailed play-by-play of the drama that I perceive my life to be. But hey, you might actually enjoy it. I personally like to think of my life as a sort of telenovella - that's a soap opera for my fellow gringos and gringas. Seriously though, thanks so much for taking the time to read this - whether it's because you're a nosy little bugger, or because you have a genuine interest in getting to know some verbose stranger who wears her heart on her sleeve. Have a very blessed day. For my original blog, visit musingsdelachiquita.tumblr.com NOTE: I apologize in advance for my verbosity. Bless your heart if you actually have the patience to get through some of my long-winded rants. Much love, and G-d Bless.

[musingsdelachiquita]

"I think I’m an interesting woman when I look at myself on screen, and I know that if I met myself at a party I would never talk to that character because she doesn’t fulfill, physically, the demands that we’re brought up to think […] women have to have in order for us to ask them out.” "There’s too many interesting women [that] I have not had the experience to know in this life because I have been brainwashed." DON’T EVER FORGET THIS.

[mylittleopenbook]

"Standards don't define you."

[desireforart-deactivated2015081]

[mylittleopenbook]

And don't forget it.

[hellyeahitsrandom]

[falling-deeperinlove]

<3

[mylittleopenbook]

The epitome of what the fuck I deserve.

[joepublic]

[theheftyhideaway]

Dan is dreamy.

[least-virginy-virgin-ever-deact]

I’ve always loved them.

[mylittleopenbook]

So cute.

[wifelife-deactivated20200107]

Girls, when you’re feeling sad, just remember:

a vagina can go back to it’s original size after taking something 20x its size

a penis will end up looking like an empty potato sack that’s been run over quite a lot if it does

you can do this girl

be as resilient as your vagina

shine bright like a ‘gina

[illiteratetrash]

what did I just read

[antauri-the-hadozee]

My penis hurts after reading this

[orgasmictipsforgirls]

shine bright like a ‘gina

[mylittleopenbook]

Because I fucking need to remember this shit!! Lmbo!

[mylittleopenbook]

Bombs

When bad things happen, I often internalize and have "daymares" of myself in the situation. Today, two bombs went off in Boston at the marathon and it made me think if one going off at UF. A landline along the sidewalk from Broward to Beaty... Boom. I imagined myself sending one last message to my mother, and to someone very special. "Love you" would be it. I saw myself as I lay bleeding on concrete, unable to press send. It made me so sad to think they'd never see my last words to them. I thought about my dying breath and how I'd use it as the sinner on the cross did, to beg God to love me enough to take me. Then I started to think in poetry of sorts, and in awful images of a painful, ugly recovery - one with burned hair and singed, mangled flesh... "Would you still love me, even though I'm this ugly? Can you blind yourself to my face and see the beauty I hope is inside? Could you tell me that you loved me, even though I screamed back that you were a liar? Could you mean it? Would you mean it?" I saw you holding a wailing, shuddering form that I knew but didn't want to believe was me. You told me that it was all alright, that everything would be okay - you cupped my face and said, "hey beautiful, why are you crying?" I cried more. I wish I didn't have thoughts like these - I think a part of it is a desire to understand, and another is a desire to take someone's place. A tiny, depressing part just wants to see how you'd react if that did happen. I wonder; would you cry if I died? Would you mourn the loss of a girl who could have been the love of your life, or would you mourn a friend? Would you wonder about what could've been, the life we could have lived? And if I lived, would you stay? If I was torn apart and broken, would you stay out of love, or out of a false obligation? I still don't want a promise... I just want your love. I pray to God that the people affected by this tragedy are healed and are constantly reminded of God's love in their time of loss.

[mylittleopenbook]

Pink skies and jade water.

No lyrics will ever capture this whirlwind…

I just saw you write about taking a road trip. Yes, I lurk. It gives me the contact I longed for, even weeks ago. My very first thought was “Gainesville.” I want to see you. I guess I keep forgetting; but once my memory caught up I thought, “Antarctica or the Marianas Trench should do.” Then I worried about you getting hurt if you went there. See? Whirlwind.

I want to be so angry with you, but I can’t be. You have every right to feel the way you do. You didn’t deserve what I did. I can’t apologize enough for what I did. Still, the first apology had as much emotion and sorrow and regret in it as the last one did.

Even though you say it didn’t hurt you, I know it did. You wouldn’t be listening to the music you told me you were if it hadn’t. I know that’s your tell.

I want you to want me back. I want you to see that there isn’t anyone out there like me. I want you to be as broken up about this as you sounded the night you said you’d forgive me.

I knew things wouldn’t just go back to the way they were – I fully expected to have to earn your trust back. But you took it away before I could. You can’t ever trust me again? Or you won’t?

I know you’re not naïve enough to think I won’t learn anything from this. I took an opportunity for comfort. No lust. What I craved was to be held and treated like I was worth something. In his arms, I thought, “why can’t I just have this with Anthony? This is exactly what I need, but from the wrong person.” I know I kept what I did from you for a few days, but I didn’t know how to tell you what I’d done. I didn’t know how to tell you I’d betrayed the trust you’d so hesitantly given me.

And now comes the anger. I wonder what hurts more; losing me, or the fact that you think what I did means you didn’t measure up to who you think you are. I think it’s the later and that makes me so damned sad. There are times when you sound like you think you're God's gift to women, and I can only imagine the sting of finding out that you aren't as perfect as you thought.

What hurts me the most? The fact that you don’t know how to love enough to forgive. At all. A mistake that meant absolutely nothing jaded the rest of our relationship, and was then linked to this. I forgave you for the judgement. The fuck I didn’t forgive you for screaming at me every time you did, or for making me feel less than thou. The hell I didn’t overlook you making me feel like just another option. I wasn’t ever special enough, was I? You had the opportunity to cheat and didn’t? That’s great. You skipped out on lust and I applaud you. You’re so much better than I am. Oh wait, you have cheated before, just not on me. But wait! That didn’t jade me, did it? No. Not even when I felt like you were looking for a way out. Not even after all of the nights I called my mother crying about how I didn’t matter. I just wanted to matter to someone, because I didn’t feel like I mattered to you. You've made the same mistakes I have. I don't need you to "punish" me by not forgiving me.

Did my being close with Sam strike a nerve? Does it hurt to know how they felt? Does it suck to not feel good enough? I know it does, because it’s how I felt every time you compared me to Danni, or shut me out without a second thought, or reminded me of how many options you had. And I know you compared Danni and I. You wouldn’t have talked about her the way you did if you hadn’t. And every time you did that, or shut me out, or made me feel like just one more girl you’d hooked, you lost me a little more. You slowly started losing me and never stopped, because I kept feeling like I was losing you.

I was willing to do absolutely anything for you, not just as your girlfriend, but as someone who cares a great deal for you. I told you that had the shoe been on the other foot, I would have worked on trusting you again. I just wanted one more chance to prove that I’m different. I didn’t want anything to just be “erased,” I knew it wouldn’t ever be. Still, forgiveness is love. That’s all I ever really wanted from you. I’ll always love you. I’ll be perfectly honest and say that, even though I didn’t feel like you were God’s plan for me for a while, I wanted you anyway – I still want you anyway.

I didn’t want a promise. I didn’t want a ring. I just wanted to know you wanted me too. I just wanted you to want us to work.

There were so many nights I called my mother to cry about how you’d spoken to me, how you’d shut me out again, and how I didn’t feel like I had a leg to stand on with you. She kept telling me to leave. I told her that I didn’t want to. I told her how good you made me feel, and all of the sweet nothings you’d told me. I wanted them. I still do.

At our highs, we broke through the atmosphere, and at our lows we hit the ground so hard I felt like we’d hit earth’s core. There used to be so many highs. I was rereading over our old conversations and wondering what happened to those two people? There was so much happiness in their words. I wish they hadn’t gone away.

There’s a part of me that wants to hate you for not wanting to give me a chance. There’s also a part of me that wants to hate you for making me feel like I didn’t matter, just like every other guy I’ve ever invested time in. But in the end, I can’t hate you. Not because I think that what I did warrants this, but because true hatred just isn’t in my nature.

You said you’d never trust me again. You said you’d never feel for me again. I hope you’re wrong. I actually hope you’ll have an epiphany and try your hand at forgiving me and seeing where that goes.

Maybe one day you will, when the sky is pink and the water is jade.

[annie726]

[mylittleopenbook]

I love and hate this about myself. I can love so much and make so many happy, but will another person, a dedicated person, ever return it? Will I ever feel that loved?

I don't expect it, but I do want it.

[pcaparty]

Django Unchained (2012): ‘Tache Twirling

[mylittleopenbook]

Memories.

[mylittleopenbook]

Long Goodbyes and Selfishness

Hi Journal. It’s been a while - like, a year - but I know you’ll still listen…

Anyway… There’s this really crazy guy named Anthony and he just drove out of my dorm’s parking lot about 50 minutes ago. We’ve been dating since he asked me out under the fireworks on New Year’s Eve in Tampa. He’s so amazingly sweet. I laugh so much when I’m around him - I can’t ever be mad at him. I kinda love him. Actually, I’m pretty damn sure I’m either in love with him or just completely freaking insane, and I’m pretty sure I’m not completely insane.

I’m sorry I haven’t told you about him…

He came up to visit me this weekend. I called him on my way to Relay for Life and he told me he was bored and had nothing to do. I laughed and told him that driving up to Gainesville might give him something to do. He whined a little about being tempted and then said “fuck it, I’m packing a bag.” I told him he wasn’t. He said “say it again so I can send you a picture of the bag I’m packing.” I kept quiet after that and got really excited. When he showed up at the O’Dome I was ecstatic.

He took me and Sam to Jacksonville just to go to Dave and Busters on Saturday, and then spent the day with me today. This weekend flew by. Time always flies when I’m with him. I enjoyed it, but fuck I wish it had lasted longer. I’m fighting falling asleep in the blanket he bought so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the nasty dorm mattress, but I want to write this.

He planned to leave at 4:00 p.m. I knew this from the beginning. But like the sweetheart he is, he stalled when he mentioned leaving and saw me go into sad-mode. He stayed for an extra three hours. When he got up to leave I asked for another 15 minutes and he got a little pissed. I can see why he thought it was selfish now (especially considering the 300 mile drive he had ahead of him), but I didn’t at the moment. I was asking for another inch after I’d been given miles.

I see his point now, and I’m thankful that he helped our last 20 minutes together be as if he’d planned to stay that time too. He was sour for a few minutes, but then I cuddled up next to him and he found some retard making a joke about Gucci Mane hitting the soldier in the head with a bottle. He wrote a witty retort and asked my opinion. That broke the tension. Tropic Thunder was on so he started reciting that, and then we wrestled for a bit. It was fun - I love it when we play like that. When he got up to leave I didn’t argue.

I asked him to help me take out the recycling and he did. Then he kept jumping and weaving between the steps and the ramp from the bins as we walked to his car. He’s so silly and I love it. He reminds me not to always be so serious.

When we go to his car, he handed me the things he’d left in it, kissed me, hugged me, and then got a little “agitated” when I asked for one more kiss, but gave it to me. I walked away, called back a sincere thank you, for everything, and watched him drive off.

Before we took the recycling down, he told me that he wasn’t in the mood for long goodbyes. I chuckled and said “you never are.” He really isn’t. He doesn’t even actually say “goodbye,” just “I’ll see you soon.”

The truth is, I don’t like goodbyes at all - it’s why I stall so hard you can’t keep on time with me (couldn’t come up with anything better). I keep trying to get more time with you because the time I spend with you goes by so fast - the hours feels like minutes and the days feel like hours. I cherish it, but I want so much more of it. I know I’ll get more of it, with time, but you’ll have to try to bear with me for now. We’ll be moved in together soon though so it shouldn’t be a problem for long - I’m sure we’ll eventually get kinda sick of each other and ask for space, although I hope not lol. You really do make me happy - that’s my favorite thing that you contribute to “us.”

In the future, I hope that I remember the first time since I was six years old that I actually felt selfish after someone rightfully pointed it out. I don’t want to push him away. Hopefully, I’ll learn.

I really do love him. My Adam page is starting to look like it’s about him too.

He left me Lord of War on my laptop, so I think I’m going to try watching it. I’ll probably fall asleep, but I’ll try not to.

By for now, Journal. Ttys!

Btw, I'm pretty sure I didn't mention this, but he pissed in my nasty roommates' shampoos and mixed them. I tried being mad at him but I really can't be. I asked him why and he said "bitches who fuck with my girl get what they deserve" or something like that involving him "taking care of his."

I'm his. I love it.

[mylittleopenbook]

God is Forever Faithful

So, a friend of mine recently freaked me out a little with the 2012 "end of the world" spiel. I've honestly been deathly afraid of it ever since I woke up at 3 a.m. to the extremely realistic PSA-style trailer for it. I've been scared of dying in general since my great aunt, grandfather, and grandmother passed away when I was 8. I vividly remember crying in my mother's bed about not wanting to die - she told me that everyone died, but that we would be going to heaven to see everyone who had died before us. Anyway, not what this is really about. What this is really about is the fact that God is WAY more faithful to me than I deserve for Him to be. I prayed that he would help me with this after talking with my amazing Big and getting some God-driven reassurance spoken through her mouth. After she left, I started to pray, hard, and to repent, and to cry, and then mid-prayer, I started to write as God spoke to me. It's short, but it's most definitely what I needed:

"In your end time (whenever that may be), know that you will come to Me and be comforted by it. Be still and know that I am God and that my plan for you is absolute. I knew everything that you would do when I formed you in your mother's womb. I love you just the same and I always will. If you take comfort in nothing else, take comfort in the fact that I am God and all who believe in my Son and I are blessed with eternal life and will NEVER be forsaken." It makes so much more sense as I re-read and re-re-read it. God is so dang faithful. I asked for assurance and strength in faith and He gave me exactly what I needed, just like He always does. Hallelujah! Thank you, God, my Almighty Father and Savior, Jesus Christ, for never forsaking me. I praise you in the highest and hope that I glorify you in everything that I do.

Amen. Source: http://worshipgifs.tumblr.com/post/30010306741 Source: http://spiritualinspiration.tumblr.com/post/37900000813/www-facebook-com-naeemcallaway

[mylittleopenbook]

Christian Men

I should be studying for the two finals that I have later today (I started this at 9:30am; it’s 11:30am and I have my Intro to Counseling final at 5:00pm and then my Criminological Theory final at 8:20pm), but I’ve recently spoken to two of my sisters in PhiLamb and have been extremely convicted by what was said.

What was said? Well, first, a little backstory.

I am a very outwardly affectionate, friendly person. I love to love on anyone and everyone that I can. It’s just how I am – blame my parents for hugging and kissing me too often if you must.

Some more-recent backstory:

Last night, I was initiated into the Mu Pledge Class of the Nu Chapter of Sigma Phi Lambda (Sisters For the Lord), one of the two Christian sororities* on campus, praise God! Being in that sorority, I am exceedingly blessed by being surrounded by my amazing sisters, but I am also extremely blessed to be surrounded by a group of really amazing Christian guys from the Christian fraternity*, Beta Upsilon Chi (Brothers Under Christ) a.k.a. BYX (pronounced “Bucks”).

Being around the BYX boys is such a blessing – they’re all amazing friends and when speaking about them, I refer to them as “my boys.” I can honestly say that I have a genuine love for all of them. When I see one of them or one of them walks into the room, whichever one it is, they are greeted with excitement (i.e. “Aaaaaaah! [Insert Name]!!! How are you? I’ve missed you so much!!!”) and a very big hug – I pretty much make a huge deal when I see any of them.

And now, what you’ve all been waiting for…

I was recently told by one of my sisters that she thinks that some of my behavior towards the boys may be “inappropriate” by Christian standards. For example, some of the boys are a bit more physical with me than others in the sense that we’ll tackle, push, or chase each other to mess around. I have also been deemed slightly flirtatious, a statement with which I adamantly disagree due to my fear of flirting with any of them and subsequently ruining the friendships we all share. I fell asleep on one of the boys’ shoulders, he fell asleep too, we both shifted in our sleep and my head slid down to his stomach – that was another problem that was corrected with a hard pillow being thrown at my face to wake me.

By worldly standards, all of these things are deemed completely innocent, but as a Christian woman, I am held to a higher standard of modesty, respect, and behavior.

My first response was that I treat all of the boys the same way and with the same level of affection, no matter who they are. That is absolutely true; they all receive a lot of love from me. One of them even teasingly asked me if anyone had ever called me “affectionate” before. I replied that it was the third word that most people use to describe me after "loud" and "talkative."

The problem with that, however, is that by treating them all the same, my affection loses value towards others. The example given to me was that, if I hug all of them very lovingly then when I go to hug my husband, it will have less value. While thinking that way about a hug seems ridiculous, it does make sense. A different perspective is sex that I’ve had with other men devalues the sex that I will have with my future husband (and I’m sorry for that, Adam**).

Another problem (so I’ve been told) with it is that, if any of them have more than friendly/brotherly feelings for me, then I could potentially be hurting them if they construe my actions as meaning more than they do. I don’t ever want to hurt any of these boys. It also stands to reason that if they do like me, it should be for Godly reasons. My sister put it something like “if they like you because you’re wearing makeup or because you smell nice or because you’re pretty, versus liking you because of your behavior and your Spirit and projection of Christ, which is the more genuine, Godly love?”

Yet another problem is that, if I do indeed begin to “like like” one of the boys, my actions towards that boy in particular will look just like my actions toward the other brothers. There are actually two problems with this in that the object of my affections will either not notice the difference, or will not see any more or less meaning behind the attention I show them as opposed to the attention I show the other boys.

I’m sure they will notice though, as I’ve apparently been pegged as having a crush on one of them by both a sister in my sorority and a brother in the fraternity. I do actually happen to have a crush on the boy they suggested, but the behavior they described (the hugs and the pushing) all began before I ever developed the crush. I legitimately figured out that I liked him last week.

The last problem that was brought to my attention was that if I did like one of them and the affection was returned, it could be a stumbling block in both of our walks with God if the attraction wasn't Godly in nature.

9 Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak.

-        1 Corinthians 8:9 (NIV)

I absolutely have a problem with the idea of being a stumbling block. My sister put it best; “when it’s my soul on the line, I can make excuses as to why I’m doing things. But the second I realize that my actions have an effect on another person’s walk in a negative way – that my actions are jeopardizing their God-gifted salvation which none of us deserves anyway – then I realize that I have a problem and need to change things.”

I was speaking with my Big (as in big sister in the sorority) about this issue and she told me that someone had come to her expressing concern at my behavior toward the boys, as well as them thinking that I “people hop.” Instead of staying with one or a few people and forming a solidified bond with them, I go from person to person forming incomplete bonds with people, another potentially harmful behavior.

My Big suggested that they had come to her out of concern that my relationship with Christ was not solid, which was resulting in my inability to build solid relationships with others. I am struggling to completely solidify my relationship with Christ and become surer in my faith “outside” of just being secure in my salvation, so that struck a nerve. She said that it sounded like I was spending more time with my BYX boys than I was with God. Even though God only asks for our first 10-percent, the more that you put into your relationship with Him, the more you get out.

She suggested that I take a moment to commune with God before spending time with them, even if it was just a moment. “If Jason or any of them walks in, take a second to talk to your Father. Say ‘God, Jason is about to walk in. Please help me align my actions towards him so that I follow the righteous path that you want me to take and that aligns with your will. Thank you. I love you. Amen.” As funny as that sounds, it’s actually a pretty good idea that I think I’ll be practicing.

That last problem of being a stumbling block, as well as what my Big said about giving more time to the boys than to my Father is what really convicted me to the fact that I need to change. I am making a promise to myself and more importantly, to God, that I will try my very best to change my actions toward the boys to reflect a more holy image and to project Christ in all that I do.

Notes: *Theta Alpha is the other Christian sorority on campus; Kappa Phi Epsilon (“Kappa Phi”), formerly Kappa Upsilon Chi (“Kappa Chi”), is the other Christian fraternity on campus.

**”Adam” is not the name of my fiancé or boyfriend – it is a name that I use to reference my future husband in the present. I chose Adam because I believe that God has created an Adam for every Eve and an Eve for every Adam. If you’re still confused, please see Genesis (that’s the first chapter of the of the Old Testament in the Bible for those who are still confused or have not been blessed with hearing the amazing Word of God yet).

[mylittleopenbook]

Jesus, my claddagh, and Joel Osteen.

God, you are way too amazing for words. [[And Jesus, you really did find my ring - that ("Jesus found my ring! <3") was the original title of the post and I love it way too much not to include it)!]] Brennan​​ dropped Carrington​​ and I off at Beaty at 12:30am. We sat outside the door to my room and spoke (for over two hours!) about how You are changing and molding us to serve you, how you're blessing us with fellow Christ-followers in BYX and PhiLamb to encourage us, and how totally awesome you are! THEN (at 2:45am), I go to grab my face-wash from the shower and you point my eyes to the shower floor, under one of my roommates' shower caddies, and to my mother's claddagh ring that I had thought I lost during rush week. Thank you SO much for that, Lord! It reminded me of the story in Joel Osteen's book. His wife lost her ring for weeks and then found it in the glovebox of their car while Pastor Osteen was being pulled over (for speeding, I think) by a police officer, who let him go to do his sermon as long as he could go to one (which he did)! You are so incredible, Jesus! You keep our faith so high with such occurrences. You bless us so! Lord, I can't even begin to say "I love you" enough, and I wouldn't even begin to be able to, even if I said it repeatedly from now until the that I second I died. <3 God, you are so good, all of the time <3

[mylittleopenbook]

Just get over it.

We're talking about existential therapy and facing death in my Intro to Counseling class and I'm crying. The "client" in the video started talking about their dad dying and then I started thinking about my parents dying. Then I remember what I went through when my grandmother died - I was eight but I feel like I got over it so fast. Will that happen with my parents too? Does "just getting over it" mean that I don't really love them? That I don't really care? Do I even know what love is or how to love? I want love so badly, but do I even know what it really is? Is it being willing to die for someone like Christ did for us? Is it being obsessed with that person's happiness? Is it just being there for them? At Grab-a-Lamb, a few potential-Bigs asked what my best quality was - I told them that I was a very loving, caring person and that I liked to love people. The first girl (Allie) that asked actually said she could see that about me. However, I'm starting to question whether or not I can really say that about myself on the basis of potentially not knowing what it actually means. Does "I love you" just mean "you meet a basic need that I have in life and I'm grateful for that" and "if you were no longer in my life, it would be sad because I'd lose what meets my need(s)?" It's thoughts like these (coupled with my limited background in criminology and psychology) that make me wonder if I have sociopathic tendencies - but then I remember how often I cry and that fear goes right out the window. Maybe I'm just guilty that I get over big, potentially traumatic things fast. Maybe that's just the way that I cope with things (like getting mugged at gunpoint over the summer) - but when I get onto this train of thought, sometimes I wonder if the opposite will happen. I could just spiral into depression and lose the ability to function. Part of the lecture covered confronting the anxiety (as a therapist) that a person has about death and letting them know that it's okay to feel that way, but knowing that it's okay just isn't good enough for me. I know it's okay to have the anxiety, but that doesn't make anything any better - it doesn't make the anxiety go away. I don't think I've felt this messed up in my entire life. [Originally written at 6:45pm, September 27, 2012]

[mylittleopenbook]

Just don't go...

Last night you told me you were thinking a lot about joining the military. I told you it was a death sentence and asked you why. You responded by telling me that you were tired of the same s***, and then added that it was sad that when you thought about it, nobody had really tried supporting you but (ironically) me. Of course I support you - I love you. I told you that, and how you weren't "nothing" last night, but what you told me has only just hit me. Many men, a lot of them tougher, bigger, stronger, smarter, and faster than you have been killed overseas. It's not your only option! I was telling a friend about this and I started to tear up like I am right now - I have no idea what I'd do if I lost you. If I lost you, I feel like I'd be in a constant state of depression because of how often I think about you. Like, I can imagine myself being reminded of you or remembering something - a fond memory or a funny moment - and then bursting into tears once I realized you were gone. I feel like after a while I'd eventually forget your voice, forget how you laughed, forget how your fingers felt on my arms or in between mine - all of the things I love. I don't want to forget them. I don't want to not be able to call you to hear your voice or your laugh, or not be able go see you and hug you again. Please don't do it. Find some other way to change up your routine. Don't sign away your life on a contract in blood - if you join the military, that's what they'll make you do. If you've never been in the military (which you haven't) then you'll be signing away the next eight years of your life to them. Can you handle that? You say you're tired of the same old thing now, but what about eight years of the same old thing? I really see more and more how much you need God in your life. He makes things so much better. You'd see that while you may do bad things or stay stagnant for a while, that He loves you anyway! You told me you weren't sure about God and that you believed in yourself - I asked if you though your skills could have been a gift from God and you pretty much told me no. I wish you could see that all of the blessings in your life really do come from God. He is so good and so merciful and so kind. I wish you could see that. I told my friend that I don't think you knew what it would do to me if I lost you, but that it wasn't really "your job" to know. I really wish you could see what just thinking about it is doing to me now. You're my punching bag, my secret keeper, my comforter, my sounding board, my teddy bear... You're one of my closest friends - I trust you with my life. You even know almost everything about me because we play that stupid question game all the time. I love you so much. Please, please don't leave me.

[mylittleopenbook]

Wheelchair Bound, Part Two

Here’s Part Two. I’m warning you, it’s graphic and really, really long.

Inside the trauma room (which looked exactly like the ones you see on reruns of “ER” or on “House”), they cut into my shirt and shorts so they could see better, and the EMT tried starting an IV right above my hand in my forearm - it hurt even more than when I got run-over. He pulled it out because he said it wasn’t worth it if it hurt that bad - I think he just felt bad because i screamed a bit.

So, I thanked God that this hadn’t been any worse, and then I got to the hospital. They took me into a room in an area I assume every ambulance-rider comes into. I bantered a bit with the EMT, thanked him for all he had done, and said that I wished we had met under better circumstances but that it was always good to meet nice people. Then the doctor came in and asked what happened. I told him my story and he said something like “um, I really don’t like that you got run over by a bus. I’m going to send you into Trauma so they can make sure you’re not bleeding internally or have spinal damage.” I’m pretty sure that I let that roll off my back because it sounds pretty scary thinking about it now.

Now, in Trauma, they warned me repeatedly that there would be a lot of people doing a lot of things to me at once, but that they were only trying to help me. I told them I knew that, and apologized profusely and continuously (I guess I thought I was inconveniencing them). They finished cutting off my clothes, even cutting right up the middle of my $55 Victoria’s Secret bra (which was more painful than anything that happened that day), until I was completely naked. My first instinct was to cover myself, but I knew they’d only pull my arms away.

They took off my cut-up clothes, took off my jewelry, and started to examine me. They also tried starting an IV in me since the EMT hadn’t been so successful. I had donated blood on the 6th and was still bruised from it, but that didn’t stop the woman from trying to start an IV in the same spot. Even after wiggling the needle and pushing and pulling it she couldn’t get a vein, so she tried lower on my forearm. That’s when I felt something running down my wrist from where she had poked me – I heard it dripping fast too, like a faucet on the lowest setting for a steady stream. I couldn’t lift my head, but I knew it was blood. I apologized for bleeding all over the trauma room floor.

The next thing I remember was this really cute curly-haired doctor checking my pupil dilation, and then the doctors telling me they were going to turn me over. It was painful, but necessary. They turned me back after finishing what they needed to do, and then the woman with the needles was at my other arm. I whined about her sticking me again, ad she said that they needed to make sure they had more than one way to get medicine into me if one IV stopped working. I nodded and let her find her vein.

At this point, they were also trying to stick a catheter in me to check my urine for blood, pregnancy, etc. They asked if I could be pregnant and I responded the way I always do – “I’d better not be!” I knew I wasn’t, and they confirmed that once they got the catheter in, which unfortunately happened at the exact same time that the needle went into my right arm. Sometime in between all of this, they had taken an x-ray, covered me in a gown, and now they were taking me for a CT scan.

I thanked everyone and one of the trauma nurses said I was an amazing patient. I said “don’t all of your patients thank you?” She laughed and told me no. Then it was into the tunnel for the “cat scan.” They guy was really sweet and made sure I was comfortable. He explained what they were going to do, and informed me that they needed a scan with contrast (I hate contrast). He talked me through the warm, peeing feeling, and made small talk. I felt really at ease.

After the scan, they took me immediately into a room and lifted me for the fifth or sixth, but last time. I was in the bed that I’d be staying in for the next day and a half.

I got into the hospital around 12:30pm and into the room by about 1:30. I texted the only three people that needed to know what had happened – the girl who was picking me up for work, the girl who was picking me up FROM work for pledge initiation, and the vice president of the sorority I was supposed to have been initiated into that night. Then I called my mom, who had been on the phone with me when I got run over and probably heard my bike get thrashed. I told her where I was and what had happened, and cautioned her not to tell my dad until he got home, lest he freak out at work and get into trouble.

Then the horrible hospital experience began. There was pain, and being turned, and being examined by med students who couldn’t understand that I couldn’t really move on my own to show them my road rash.

There was misery and morphine, but then a lovely Emergency Dean of Students showed up to tell me my professors had been notified of my accident without detail. It turned into a conversation about God and the sorority I was supposed to have been initiated into that night. She stayed for at least an hour and gave me her cell phone number before she left. She told me to call her if I needed anything, even if I just needed to talk. She was such a great person.

The doctors told me that I should be going home the next day – I doubted this. Then the nurses kept moving me around so I wouldn’t get sores. I wasn’t able to even drink anything until about 9pm because they were afraid I’d need surgery.

I tried falling asleep a few times, but then my bosses started to show up. First Kim (bless her heart) and then Beth and her fiancé. They were all so sweet to me. I made Kim take to goose back to the Child Advocacy Center because the day I had decided to bring it back was the day I had gotten hit by a bus. Dean, Josh, and Jacob, my BYX boys also came to see me. They’re so sweet.

Then later that night, the officers from Phi Lamb and a bunch of the actives came and brought me flowers and my pledge lamb. Lauren told me that Auburn’s chapter of Phi Lamb was praying for me too (and if you know about the UF/Auburn rivalry, that’s huge), along with the “Bucks.” There were prayers all over Facebook - I was so touched. My best friend had also come over and so had Caitlin. She had brought me clothes (she played a nice joke on me with the camo undies and the bra that she brought) and my penguins, and my chargers, etc. She’s so great. That was when the “two inches” story was born – had the bus gotten me two inches higher, I would have been crushed and probably dead.

Then they all left, except Steven who I kicked out later so I could call Edel. We talked and then I fell asleep.

The next day was a bit rough, but not as painful. The doctors came in at about 6am, but I was way too groggy to talk to them. Someone else came back around 8am but I was still too sleepy. Breakfast had come at that time, but I just went back to sleep. I woke up around 9:30 again when the doctor came back to talk to me. She told me I had a small crack in my sacrum – that’s the part of your pelvis connected to your spine for the non-medically inclined. I ate two breakfasts and I’m not really sure what else happened (except for the bed pan which was just so much fun) until the physical therapy team came in. They physical therapist was pretty damn cute and his occupational therapist partner was gorgeous. He muted Carry Underwood because I couldn’t find the button. Anyway, they had me turn and get out of a flat bed and then onto crutches. They told me I’d only be on them for a few weeks and then I’d need some therapy. One of the nursing student laughed when she saw me walking in the hall – she said “oh my gosh, you have a body! You’re not just a head and sheets. And you’re smiling!” She was so awesome.

Later, one of the doctors came in and I asked her to show me the CT scan. She showed me where the “chip” (her words) in my sacrum was and the next thing I remember is lunch and How I Met Your Mother on the TV. Then I was suddenly being discharged and I actually believed I’d be okay.

BUT, there was a twist. The physical therapist came back in about an hour and said that the orthopedic specialist had looked at my CT scan again and thought it would be best if I was in a wheelchair because of the crackS (yes, it was plural now) that they had seen. I was upset, but it was whatever. Olivia (my amazing angel among many) had been there too and she comforted me.

The attending Orthopedic Doctor, an older Indian gentleman who I found very charming came in a while after that and told me he didn’t believe his team when they said I’d been run over by a bus. I recanted my story and he told me how lucky I was. “I’m not even ALLOWED to tell you how many months that the last person who got hit by I bus had to go through, or how many months they were here – I got to know him very well,” he explained. He also told me that I’d need a walker [which I never ended up getting]. My final diagnosis was a crack in my sacrum, a crack in my pubis (thin bone in the bottom-front of the pelvis that makes the birth canal), and a few cracks in the back of the top the left “wing” of my pelvis.

Lisette came to visit me, and I was given discharge papers a bit after she left and Olivia came back. She waited with me for six hours until they brought my wheelchair. We talked about life and God and Phi Lamb. It was so incredible. She’s my sister and my twin, even if it isn’t Phi Lamb official.

She brought me home at about 10:30 that night, and that was that. She was such an angel to me. I had so many angels those past few days, and they’re still helping me now. I love them all so much and God, thank you so much for blessing me with them.