unstressessary

incessant ramblings of a moody cynic with terrible luck, too much love to give and not enough time in the day 

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Me @ Younger Me

“Here’s how to study.” “Don’t stop dancing.” “Never forget your words.”

Brief update:  Found out my childhood crush liked me back the whole time. Classic. Semester’s almost over; I’ll put together a way-too-detailed, poetic, outside-introspective post soon. Not for you, for me.

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TL;DR:Last Ditch Apologies

I understand if you want nothing to do with this or me, and this isn’t for attention or to try and “fix things” or be friends again or whatever.. but I’ve realized over the years that there’s a lot that feels like (to me) “unfinished business” and I can’t help but feel crazy because I think about this way too often. It’s so stupid that I’m fixated on this one stupid period of time in my life, but I seriously can’t let myself keep obsessing. This is my last ditch effort (what even does that phrase mean?) to try, at least, to make peace with you, with myself and with my mistakes. And if it helps you too in any way, all the better. 

Let me start off by saying you’re not the only person I’m writing to. I can’t stress enough that my intent isn’t to “win” you back or to make you feel bad or to ask for forgiveness. I’ve got a nasty habit of just pretending certain issues aren’t real until I realize it’s too late to fix anything. (Flight instead of fight, I guess..) I’ll soon be facing some serious issues with my family and I’m doing what I can to alleviate as much outside anxiety before things really get icky. I’m doing my best to be conscious of how I’m feeling through this process and make sure I don’t end up in whatever terrible pit I was in for so long. These things have been weighing on me for years and even if you don’t ever read any of this, at least it’s not all just buried in my chest anymore.

TL;DR: Last Ditch Apologies

I can’t tell you what happened to me when we broke up. There are parts I don’t remember correctly and that there are gaps that either I purposely blocked out or blacked out during. And there are so many things that I’ve learned since but for obvious reasons.. I can’t thank you or even apologize. And even though I know we’ve both moved on, and I’m sure you don’t even care (it’s been what... 6 years?) I hope the opportunity arises someday anyway. Not necessarily for reconciliation (I think that door’s long since closed..) but for my own sanity. 

For a long time, I refused to believe that our separation was my fault. You made a good effort to make it seem like it was best for both of us. And I agreed, although I felt very blindsided. I knew there were things you were unhappy about.. I thought moving closer would fix them. (It took me months to really understand what you meant and by then, you had found someone else and your reasons didn’t make sense to me anymore.)

I shut you out on purpose pretty quickly..  I couldn’t handle “mourning” and trying to talk with you through it. You came over a few days after the fact (I think.. my time line gets pretty jumbled that summer..) and explained to me that you’d always be my best friend, that you’d always be there for me, that you’d always love me. I believed you, but I couldn’t believe it either. Those things were exactly what I wanted to hear, but I didn’t understand why you were still giving me hope.  You asked me at some point after That Day if I thought you were doing the right thing. Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t say it though, I thought the right thing to do was to let you make up your own mind. I didn’t want you to change your mind because I influenced you somehow, I wanted you to change your mind because it was what you wanted. I thought that was why we broke up, we were making decisions more based off each other, and less of our own personal interests. I didn’t realize that it would come off as me not willing to help you or fight for you. I’d give anything to take that back. 

It never occurred to me that, at that time, you may have been just as emotionally reliant on me as I was you.. and that breaking up wasn’t an easy decision for you and that maybe you needed help or still wanted to feel loved, it just wasn’t the time for something as demanding as what we had. And that’s my fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, that I wasn’t supportive, and that I, per uge, made the whole thing about me. Not just with our breakup but with the entire time we knew each other.

I wasn’t a drinker outside of Iowa City. I drank when I lived in that house, and then after when I was visiting you and I’d get sooo messy and embarrassing and for that, I am so sorry. I tried keeping up, it felt like I was supposed to. Your friends all seemed so... seasoned. You seemed disappointed when I got high.. and we always talked about being on the same “level” so, I thought I needed to drink for that to happen. After we broke up, it seemed like the only way I could be distracted was to drink. I felt guilty smoking and I eventually got busted anyway so... after my roommate moved and I had to move in with my dad (again) I thought I had lost everything. 

A couple months went by and I moved to Iowa City and I started drinking a ton. I originally made plans to move so I could be closer to you, closer to being how I wanted to be and live how I wanted to live. Obviously Cedar Rapids sucks but what I don’t think you realized when you said “We’re too young to spend all of our time focused on another person” is that I had a whole other life there. I had a job and friends and I was finishing school and I had started dancing again..  I was broke, but I felt more successful than I’d ever been and when you said that was the reason we shouldn’t be together... it just didn’t make sense to me. When we broke up I realized I didn’t care about all that. When I moved, I realized it didn’t matter if I cared about all that or not because I simply didn’t have any of it anymore. I left it behind thinking I was moving forward, starting a new chapter. But when it came time to actually move, it felt like I was moving into a snake pit or something. Everyone I knew there was a friend of yours, they were untouchable.  I gravitated towards strangers because everyone I knew personally was a reminder of how much I was fucking up.

It’s not that I didn’t try at all.. I’ve got the drawings, the paintings, the journals, I wanted so badly to get better. To get “over” it. I didn’t know how, and I thought I needed to do it on my own. I heard so many rumors.. “he never loved you,” “you were just a game” or “he dumped you so he could sleep around..” You and I met up at a coffee shop a couple months after I moved. I was so excited to catch up, I thought it was a move in the right direction, and at that point, personal things were starting to fall into place (friends, work, etc..) I mentioned that my roommate had gone on a date with the girl who lived in your house, that she left her bracelet in my apartment. You told me that you and her were together now. I was obviously surprised and later pretty sad.. but overall I appreciated that you told me in person. We hugged, you said we’d catch up again soon and I was happy to have made progress. JP told me later that you thought the meetup was a disaster. I didn’t believe him and texted you to ask if we could communicate directly, hearing things from other people was messing with me and I didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t. Your response was “I don’t know what you’re trying to do here.”

Years later, he apologized for purposely meddling. He said he recognized that he made things worse. I leaned on him the most because I thought he understood the situation better than anyone... I didn’t realize how unhappy he also was at the time. He was constantly reminding me of you, because it made him feel closer to me. Being sad turned into being a raging bitch and I couldn’t trust anyone to help me. Every time I saw someone who knew you, even my own friends, I got self-conscious. I couldn’t get it out of my head that everyone was pitying me or judging me or just straight up thought I was a fuck up. I had never had a broken heart before, and honestly I had never been in the position where I needed to take care of myself, emotionally. I always had a crutch. I didn’t realize how much I was putting on other people until I didn’t have anyone anymore. 

I know the situation changed when I started drinking.. but in my mind, you had made a lot of promises you weren’t keeping. Every day I didn’t hear from you just buried that idea deeper. I said something to you once about how I wished we hadn’t dated. And in a way, I meant it. Not the way I said it.. I’m sure I said it out of spite but what I meant was I regretted that our friendship was ruined. I blamed it on us breaking up instead of blaming it on myself apparently having no self-control.

I have dreams, pretty frequently, where you’re just there. And everything is alright, like there’s some “we were emotional and too young” sort of statute of limitations that ran its course. You’re too far away for that ever to even be a possibility. Anyway. I wrote the majority of this post months ago and just found it in my drafts. So before I try to re-write everything or just start rambling, I’ll finish it with this:

I’m not upset that we’re not together anymore, or that we broke up. I understand why those things happened (although it took me years to work it out) and I’m fine. What I’m really sad about (still) is that back then, I knew who I wanted to be... but I had no idea how to become that person. I thought moving would be what pushed me over the edge to being who/how I wanted to be (who/how I thought you wanted me to be.) The breakup, and your reasons for the breakup, turned me into a giant ball of self-doubt. And I think that was what was/is/will forever be so hard.. I had never experienced self-doubt.. I always thought I was doing everything I could and that it would be enough. 

I haven’t felt like I was enough, since you. The self-doubt has never gone away. It’s this little smoking pit that sits in my chest. In a way, it feels like my innocence was stolen. I feel shame, and fear, and anxiety, about everything. It’s not hard to pretend I don’t feel that way, but occasionally it isn’t so easy to bury. I hate feeling dramatic and crazy, but it really does just feel like a sandstorm in my brain sometimes. And the worst part is, I AM who I wanted myself to be back then. I’ve gotten myself to be conscious and hard working, and empathetic and helpful. I am a good employee, a (relatively) healthy person who cares about the earth and nutrition and quality over quantity. And I guess I just really wish you knew. 

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Update time.  Disclaimer: I had this post almost completely written and for some friggin’ reason, after clicking away from the page, Tumblr decided to delete the whole thing. Didn’t even save it in edits, just closed the text box. It’s still an update, just maybe not as pretty of an update. I originally made this blog to blow off steam without bothering anyone, to validate my own feelings later when I’ll inevitably question how I handled things. It’s still serving its purpose, life is just moving a little too fast for frequent updates, and honestly, things are pretty nice right now. 

Shit hit the fan with my mother over the holidays. From October until right before Christmas things were bad. I’m not quite ready to write about them now because the story isn’t over yet. Besides, it may be easier to just screenshot what she has said because this woman is unreal. Honestly, I couldn’t make up half of the shit she’s pulling. 

As far as Dad updates go, I saw him over Thanksgiving and Christmas. Things are pretty normal; I still feel awkward around him and his family, he still isn’t undergoing treatment, they’re still not updating me regularly, etc. He gave me a few updates though, and we’re starting to hit a few “lasts”. He went hunting this season (something he regularly does with his buddies) and shot a deer. He didn’t say it was his last, but the way he was talking about how exhausting it was to walk through the timber and how his friend had to load up his kill for him suggests he won’t be making the trip again. His doctors told him the tubes going into (or out of, I suppose) his kidneys won’t be removed. His cancer is blocking his ability to pee normally so... they’re there for good. He says they make him pretty miserable, he doesn’t sleep which makes him irritable and kind of snappy with people. For me, that’d be the hardest bit.. consciously watching your personality change. Especially in his case, he’s normally so social and everyone’s best friend. 

Me stuff: I finished last semester with 2 A’s and 2 A-’s, made the Dean’s list. Better grades than I’ve ever had. It feels good. This semester will be harder but I’m determined to do just as well. My best friend came back from Korea and we’ve got all sorts of plans and crafts planned. She and her boyfriend will be moving into the other half of our duplex in August and I couldn’t be happier. Boyfriend and I are doing well, he’s back in school. We’re still working on communicating. Hit a little snag the other day when I was a bit passive aggressive because I didn’t understand something he said while we were cooking, and he snapped saying that me being stressed and projecting onto him was stressful and hard on him too. That issue also probably deserves at least its own post. 

I’ve started taking CBD oil for anxiety, still cut back on drinking, hardly any smoking, and the newest bit, I’ve started the Keto diet. I’ll eventually get to posts about all these things individually but for now, this is just a brief overview and reminder to myself that things are getting better and that I’m doing well. 

Like I said, I had a different post that was much better thought out and prettier, and I really didn’t want to re-write it but oh well. I’m at a good point at the moment and I should remember the good things as much as the icky. 

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Buy the Bag.

One of the best compliments I’ve gotten wasn’t even something someone said directly to me, but something a friend relayed that their friend said; “Carrie? I think I know her..  with the kind eyes and great hair right?” It’s a part of your identity.. Especially when it’s long, it becomes a safety blanket, something constant and warm and soft. It may not always look great but it belongs to you and no one knows it better than you. A few weeks ago, I decided I wanted something new, something I didn’t have to worry about styling, something that looked more clean and fresh...  As the day got closer, I started having regrets and moments of great anxiety.. And the way it is these days, you can’t just go in somewhere and have them chop it off in the same day, you have to schedule it and then stew on it until your appointment. I mean, I could have gone to Cost Cutters or something and I’m sure it would be fine but we’re talking about almost 14 inches of hair here and I’m not about to let just anyone touch it. My appointment was scheduled for last Friday.. I almost called on Monday to cancel but told myself to wait until Tuesday to decide.

About 3 years ago, my closest friend and I joked about buying plane tickets to New York City and spending the most posh week around New Years just touring and drinking and being indulgent. We joked for a few weeks until one of us said “wait.. but we’re going to do it, right?” 

$450 later, I was broke, but we each had a ticket to New York and a celebratory bottle of champagne. 

She and I spent that week over the New Year holiday partying, touring, eating amazing food. The woman we stayed with was my friend’s friend but neither of us knew she was part of a wealthy Jewish family living in the upper East side of Manhattan. To our surprise, we stayed in a beautiful condo with amazing people and had the most extravagant time of our lives. While shopping one of these days, my friend found a super great leather drawstring bag marked down from like $400 to $200 and had the internal debate over whether or not to buy it. During the discussion, our host’s aunt casually made her way by us and said “You’re never gonna be rich anyway, just buy the bag.”

Flash forward to last Friday.. my best friend talked me into keeping my hair appointment and I’m in my car on the way to the salon. I’m a glutton for punishment so of course I made this appointment at a salon 45 minutes away. Gave me just enough time to explore all the emotions related to making a seemingly huge decision. And then it hit me... what’s the worst that could happen.. I have a shitty haircut for a while and then grow into it? Or maybe it will turn into an opportunity to get that mohawk I’ve always wanted... Why was I so uncomfortable? And that’s when I realized that’s exactly what it was. I was uncomfortable. I was making a decision that was uncharacteristic for me, and it was unfamiliar and I was scared. 

But in that moment, I loved it. It’s what daredevils go for, right? That little adrenaline rush when you’re doing something you shouldn’t or when you do something unnatural or scary? The thing I dislike most about myself is that I don’t DO that anymore. I don’t just DO things to explore them. [See: Turkey Talk ] I do things to keep myself safe and stable and I don’t embrace change or push myself to try new things or even to do stupid old things that I used to like. I’ve become stagnant and it took this friggin hair to remember that I promised myself I’d learn to be bold again.

In that moment, I realized I loved that feeling. And while I had a little encouragement from the sidelines, this was something I faced alone and conquered and I even found some things to love about it. I love being afraid and facing something scary. I was uncomfortable and being in uncomfortable situations is the only way I’ve ever learned anything. It may not have been a big deal to everyone (in fact, a lot of people were very quick to tell me how little of a deal it was..) but it was a big deal to me. 

Bottom line, make yourself uncomfortable. Buy the bag. You can only learn from it. You may gain something amazing. You may even find something to fall in love with. 

[unstressessary]

The Slow Roll

I work full-time in a law firm. I have two attorneys who rely on me to locate their files, pay their bills, speak with their clients, run their errands, manage their office, clean their office, I get there at least an hour before either of them do (if either of them come in that day...) and sometimes I leave after both of them have left. Despite my efforts and willingness to learn, they don’t really have time to teach me anything and I’m frequently left feeling like I’m not necessary or good at my job. Occasionally on my days off, I pick up shifts at the bar because they need the extra help and despite workin’ that 8-5, I still don’t have any money. The last time I did this, I was shouted at for not wanting to leave the bartender alone to close the bar by himself. I’m also in school full time, which is only possible because of my job. The two overlap and I frequently spend my entire shift at work reading and writing papers. I went back after a stupidly long break and have realized I really want to do well. I read all the assigned readings before class, I finish all the assignments early, and I email my professors to make sure I’m doing everything I can to be successful.  I pay my rent and bills on time every month, and I do whatever needs to be done to make sure that when that random vet or car bill pops up, it’s taken care of before it becomes a problem.  I have less than 10 hours alone in my own house every week. In that time, I take a bath to relax or try to tidy up some but usually end up just sitting on the couch playing Skyrim because it’s the only time I get to do it. I live with 2 dogs and 1 cat that I always feel bad about not spending more time with. We have 2 fish tanks running at all times that need maintained (which I literally have no time to help with) and fed every day.  I have a boyfriend of 5 1/2 years who apparently just never wants to get married and is doing really great for himself right now but honestly makes me feel like I don’t do anything around the house because I’m lazy. I have a dad who is dying of cancer and a mom who has decided that we should “limit our interactions” because I got too honest with her about how shitty she was when I was younger. I have a brother who feels bad that his kids don’t have a big family and a brother who is so incomprehensibly unsocialized that he thought he needed to do his own dishes when we ate at Perkins last month. I’m the maid of honor for one of my best friends in September and I’m so excited but I have no idea what is expected of me or how to go about organizing anything with a group of bridesmaids I’ve never met.  The few friends I talk to are moving/working/date shitty men, suffering from PTSD and fighting the “good fight” against what seems like everyone, or are miserable on their own in a different country.  I’m unhappy with my weight and appearance and have started going to the gym, sleeping a regular sleep schedule, doing my hair and makeup regularly, and am so hyperaware of my diet, it’s hard to enjoy eating anymore. I’m almost a week sober and am on day 18 of no cigarettes.  I can’t remember the last time someone said, “You’re doing a great job.” Or the last time I felt like I was doing enough. 

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Something Something Dead Horse

I decided to take this class called “Trauma Throughout the Lifespan.”  For anyone wondering, it’s not a class I’d recommend taking because you’ve been through trauma and you think it’ll help you be a better therapist (who am I kidding... no one reads this shit.) The content is super interesting (despite the instructor being an idiot) but we’re at this part about vicarious trauma, like when your client tells you about something traumatic and it actually traumatizes you. 

I never really feel like I’m affected by most people. Honestly, I feel so cold and disconnected and selfish most of the time I’m surprised at the number of people who confide in me, like.. a lot. It’s astonishing, really. Maybe I’m more of a backboard. A shitty, icy backboard. I like trying to help people, I really do. I rarely offer anything substantial.. mostly I ask cryptic questions to try and (go figure) stir the pot. And sometimes it seems to help. Or at least seems to not make anything worse.

Take the same idea (pot stirring) to my own problems and I’m not just stirring anymore. I’m like.. using some professional grade immersion blender or something. I dunno. I’m not making sense right now. Bottom line, I’m an idiot and forgot the rules.

Rule 1: Don’t talk to people you used to love.

You can’t fix anything. What you had was nice, things happened, life changed as everything changes and things are different now. They don’t have to be worse, you don’t have to stop loving people. Just... do something different. Be someone different. You can’t be that person. You can’t talk to that person. Those people aren’t the same now.

Rule 2: Do not talk to people you used to love.

Surprised? No. Knock it off, you’re digging a really big hole and then just walking in circles in it. And then digging a hole inside that hole, and walking in more circles. 

Rule 3 is pretty similar to the first two.

Thing is, I only start digging these holes when things get icky or unmanageable in my own life. Do I start doing this to avoid my other shit? Like, if I start my house on fire, the little cigarette burn in my track suit doesn’t really seem like a problem anymore, right? I dunno, I don’t have the patience for perfect comparisons right now, I’ll come back to this later.

I’ve got a friend who is facing some pretty serious mental issues right now. She’s seeking help, but she’s told me all about it and it’s terrifying to the point where it’s almost unbelievable. I’ve offered as much help as I can being so far away from her (and obviously not being a professional) but I’m wondering about this vicarious trauma thing. I’ve got my own baggage y’know. Things aren’t perfect with myself.. obviously not with this friend either, but I can’t really help her more than I am now.. my relationship with my s/o is fine, but also emotionally he’s pretty difficult to connect to. Things with my dad will eventually blow out of control. The further I get into this trauma class the more I realize the number my childhood did on my psyche. 

I understand I’m a basketcase. I understand I overthink things and I’m paranoid. It’s impossible for me to let things go. I feel things way too much and way too often, I don’t understand why but I don’t necessarily feel like it’s a bad thing. It’s just how I am. When I look back on memories, it’s not just remembering things. I re-feel everything. And there are certain memories I’ve spent years trying to like.. stop. Like an off button or something. It’s handy.. but I’m impulsive. I don’t like telling myself no. And I don’t like stopping something that happens naturally. I don’t know what I’m getting at here. 

Bottom line, I still have feelings. And the world says it’s not okay. Because you can’t say “I want to talk to you because I still have feelings.” to someone after you’ve ruined their life. At least I can’t. Because it won’t mean what I want it to mean. How do you say “I regret what happened, but that doesn’t mean I want you back or that, if circumstances were exactly the same, I would have done anything differently.” I don’t know you anymore.

You ruined my life too.

I said “I don’t love you.” to your face. For two reasons. You said you needed to hear it, you told me to say it. And because at the time, I didn’t. You were a person who hurt me, you were a person who cheated on me, you were a person who humiliated me and disrespected me and put me on the back burner. You were a person who wanted to fight a person who doesn’t fight. You were a person who said things when you were angry just to make the person you were angry with feel bad. Even if you didn’t mean what you said. Even though you loved that person. That’s who I didn’t love. I loved you before you became that person. And I knew you could be a different person, and I waited as long as I could but you didn’t care. And fuck you for not letting me explain that. 

And fuck you for getting my hopes up. Fuck you for making me believe that I’d have someone for forever. Fuck you for “tearing down my walls.” Fuck you for making me trust you. Fuck you for making me think I was crazy when I didn’t trust you. Fuck you for making me feel like I did something wrong by turning to someone who was willing to make me feel worth it. I didn’t want any of those things from someone else, I wanted them from you. Fuck you for thinking that ending our relationship didn’t hurt me. 

Fuck you for saying you’ll never forgive me. And Jesus, fuck me for even caring. 

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Get your shit together

It’s amazing how everything can be wonderful and with a 30 second conversation, everything can just seem awful.  

It was a stupid conversation and I really shouldn’t be bothered by it but it’s made me realize that the last month or so I’ve been in a REALLY good place mentally. And it only took one comment. “Are you really going to leave that out?” about a fucking curling iron.

Yes, I was just going to leave it out. Because it’s my livingroom too and 90% of the time that’s where I’m doing my hair. It’s so stupid. I should have just put it away. I shouldn’t be so friggin’ fragile because everything is fine right now. 

I think everything’s fine right now. I’m doing well in school.. just the fact that I’m back in school makes me feel happier than I’ve felt in a long time. Job is becoming a little redundant but it pays alright and I’m able to be stable and organized. I’ve been feeling good, drinking and smoking happen maybe once a week now, I have a full weekend where I feel like I can get things done every week.. This shouldn’t feel like the end of the world. It feels like everything just got ruined somehow. I don’t want to go to class tonight, I don’t want to be at work anymore, I wanna go and lay down. I feel like a friggin’ nut case.

How am I so fragile? How hasn’t something set me off earlier? I haven’t felt stressed or panicky in weeks. Suddenly I’m overthinking everything. Should I live alone? If this is how it’s going to be for forever, should I just get out of it? Am I supposed to change? Shouldn’t I be able to leave my things in the livingroom? I mean, I’m only home alone for like 6 hours a week, does that mean the “common areas” aren’t really mine? 

It’s so so so stupid. Of course that’s not what it means.

And I know what’ll happen.. I’ll bitch to a couple friends, make sure my opinion is validated, and in a couple hours I’ll cool down and forget I was even upset. I’ll go home with the intention of talking this out and expressing why I was so upset but when I actually get there I’ll see our roommate and say “nah, now isn’t the time.” It’ll get washed over, I’ll give up on it, and it probably wasn’t that big of a deal anyway. 

Get your shit together, Carrie. 

Or pretend everything rocks and just do well in school. 

[unstressessary]

Popcorn Necessary

I’ve gotten away from the purpose of this blog, which was to keep track of myself throughout my father’s cancer battle. (I’ve never worded it that way before.. but essentially, that’s it..) And honestly, that’s not entirely because I’m lazy. Up until recently, there really hasn’t been anything to update on. Get ready.. it’s a long one..

A couple months ago my cousin died (see: the end of this post) and I called my dad to tell him about it. It was a month or two after his benefit and he told me that he was told he had to stop the chemotherapy for a few months. His blood levels weren’t where they were supposed to be or something.. He doesn’t usually give me a lot of details, they’re hard to remember sometimes and I’m sure he doesn’t really understand all of them anyway. Bottom line, pause the treatment. I asked if they knew why.. he explained it was either something to do with all the medication or “it could be the beer I’ve been drinking. They’re not sure which.” 

I really don’t need to explain why this is upsetting, but I’m going to anyway. The man has tubes coming out of his kidneys because they’re not well enough to function on their own. Busch Light isn’t going to help anything. I understand alcoholism is a bitch to kick.. but dude, you’re going to die. At this point, pretty much everything you do is going to affect when you’re going to die.  And I’ve thought about it a lot.. I don’t think my dad would go through this treatment for himself. I’m 90% positive he’s doing it for his wife. He just wants to live his life. Drink his beer, hunt and fish (he’s not very good at either tbh) and party with his friends. He hates how much the tubes limit his ability to do all of these things. I don’t blame him for drinking anyway, if that’s what he wants to do. If anyone was honestly concerned about it, they wouldn’t have it around him and they would take it from him if he happened upon it somehow. No one is stopping him, and he doesn’t want to stop himself. It’s hard for an otherwise healthy alcoholic to stop drinking.. being terminally ill and an alcoholic? Forget it. 

So his chemo is on pause but he’s still got the tubes and is still undergoing hormone therapy (I assume to reduce chances of the prostate swelling any more..) and this is where he’s been for, to the best of my knowledge, a couple months. 

Fast forward to Saturday, July 15th, 2017. 

I get a call from my step-sister, Sam. Sam says my dad has been admitted to the VA Hospital and that they’re concerned his lung collapsed. She said she was on the way out of town with her dad, she wasn’t at the hospital, this was all she knew, and that I should call her mom for more info, “if you want.” Of course I want. I immediately called my step-mom and she tells me that they’re waiting for a doctor to hear results from some test. He tried to speak with me but couldn’t catch his breath long enough to say more than a couple words at a time.. He told me he loves me and handed the phone back. They both sounded pretty scared.

Turns out.. they went in on Wednesday of that week (4 days before, for all you geniuses out there) for a routine tube change. She said they replace his kidney tubes every three months and it’s no big. Apparently, when the doctor put the second tube back in, my dad buckled. It’s not comfortable to have these things put in, but from what I understand, it’s never that painful. Normally, they get these tubes replaced and hop in their car and head home. This time, my dad was feeling funny, was in a bit of pain, and decided maybe he was hungry. So they stopped in the hospital cafeteria to grab something before heading home. The second my dad sat down, he said it was radiating pain in his chest/shoulder area. My step-mom grabbed a nurse, who came over, asked a couple questions, then very calmly told another nurse to dial some code. She did, some hospital-wide announcement was made and my dad was swarmed with nurses, doctors and policemen. They thought he was having a heart attack. 

My dad was wheeled away, underwent a bunch of blood tests, EKG’s, CT scans, etc, etc.. eventually they did an X-Ray of his chest and found that it wasn’t anything to do with his heart.. there was a pocket of air and fluid forming underneath his lung. They concluded that the only possibility was that the doctor replacing his tube grazed his lung and scraped away the protective barrier around his lung. 

Eventually, and I’m a little unclear about the timelines so bear with me.. They ended up removing the tube on the corresponding side and immediately he said he felt relief. The doctor responsible is refusing to believe that this happened. She blamed it on a faulty computer reading or some bullshit, claiming “we’ve done this procedure a thousand times, this could never happen, etc, etc...” They keep him for a couple days on oxygen and antibiotics and on Saturday told him they needed him to walk a little bit and see how it went. He walks a bit down the hallway and a doctor comes up and says something like “whoa whoa.. who told you to do this? This wasn’t ordered....” and almost immediately my dad’s oxygen levels plummeted. They got him stabilized, and this is when they called me. They were afraid his lung had been punctured and had collapsed.

My step-mom did say one thing that stuck with me.. she said “I need you to know, that we are not trying to leave you out of any of this. We came in for what we thought was just a routine thing and it turned into this shit show.” She said they love me, they’re afraid I’m mad at them, that really, she hasn’t had a chance to call anyone, her kids only knew because they live with them.. and that they knew I’d be there in a heartbeat if I had known.. (Did I mention they drive like 35 minutes to get to the hospital which is maybe... 2 minutes from where I live?) This seemed like a bad time to tell them that “Yes, I have felt left out and also here are 500 other things I’m upset about:” so..  I stayed quiet. She promised to update me on everything in the future, even the minor stuff. Apparently, within the four days he was there, my aunt from Wisconsin called to bitch out the doctor twice and my step-brother had threatened to call at least once. 

I spent all of Saturday thinking he was going to die. I said “Today is the day.” out loud to myself over and over. Instead, they let him leave that day, with oxygen (a whole team came to their house and put up signs and set up his machine...) and antibiotics and Responsible Dr. Lung Scraper says “You know you have to come back in two weeks and have that tube replaced, right?” She is still refusing to admit any fault. They’re not going after her for anything. Dad says the VA is their only option for treatment and they can’t sue them and then keep going back for treatment. 

I visited on Sunday for a couple hours and got all of the above details. He seemed like he was trying to be in good spirits, making jokes and funny faces at my step-mom, etc.. but he was also very honest about being in pain and how miserable he was. He says it’d be different if the doctor had just admitted her mistakes and apologized. He hates being waited on and he hates not being able to go anywhere or do anything for himself. He’s terrified of going back in 2 weeks for the replacement replacement tube. I couldn’t help but notice the hospital bands he’s wearing. One is a fall risk bracelet, which makes sense because he can’t walk 15 feet without having to sit down and catch his breath. He can’t even stand up without my step-mom supporting most of his weight. The other bracelet was a DNR bracelet. Meaning, if his heart stops, it stops for good. It’s not my decision and it doesn’t feel like my place to ask about it, so I didn’t bring it up. 

Again, my step-mom apologized for keeping me out of the loop and opened the window for a discussion about it.. but again, I didn’t say anything. I really wish I would have, because I hate thinking about it and I hate thinking that maybe they don’t know about some of the shitty things their friends said to me about the benefit (or even probably some innocent things that I took as personally offensive) but in the end, that becomes an issue about me.. and I’m trying to avoid any of this being about me. That’s what this blog is for. Besides, I don’t need to make them feel bad for something that’s already happened, if they’re promising to correct that behavior, right? Yes, it’d probably make me feel better, but fuck.. my dad can’t even breathe on his own. It’s not my time to guilt-trip anyone. 

Checked in with my step-mom for an update today. She says he’s “still down in the dumps getting jacked around by the VA” but that he’s feeling much better. I figured I’d have to be the one to reach out for updates, and that’s okay, I’m sure they’re being swarmed with a bunch of other people doing the same thing. And this time, there aren’t any huge updates, only that he’s feeling better.

At this point, I just hope she keeps her promise.

[unstressessary]

Certainly Unhealthy

I’ve been a little vague about this topic so I’ll just clear it up quick [edit: I didn’t make it quick.] because I firmly believe it has added to how dark and within myself I’ve been in the past couple months. I missed like 3 periods in a row and knew that I wasn’t pregnant (I checked) and with school coming up, getting pregnant is just something I don’t want to deal with. I told my doctor that I wanted to regulate my cycle and suggested the pill because I had been on it before. The only reason I went off was because I lost my health insurance.. and after I stopped taking it, the migraines started. Consistent monthly aural migraines, for probably a year or two. She informed me that because of these migraines she didn’t want me on the pill as it could increase my risk of stroke. Yikes and no thanks. I told her IUDs freak me out so she suggested I try the depo shot and if in 3 months I was okay with the side effects, we’d do Nexplanon, the arm implant, which lasts for 4 or 5 years. I did my research, I know a couple ladies who have had the implant and loved it, and I decided to do it. I could have the thing removed at any point, and who knows.. in the next year, I may be out of insurance again. 

So in May, we did the shot. 

At first, I felt fine. No differences in skin, no spotting, no weight gain.. I felt really good emotionally, but I wondered if it was a placebo effect. A month or so went by and I got really low. Like, really scary, almost looked for professional mental health low. I felt really dark, I didn’t want to do anything. I’d literally go home and just lay down because it felt like the only thing I could do. I assumed it was daddy issues and I didn’t even consider it was because I had fucked with my hormones. I ended up spotting for about 3 weeks and then having the heaviest and crampiest cycle of my life. I was in the most depressive mode I’d ever been in and also the most uncomfortable in my own body I’ve ever been for a good solid month. 

Still, I was considering doing the implant anyway. Maybe it was just one month? Maybe my body and mind would adjust and I’d be better for it. Afterall, when I’m good, I’m great. I had some concerns though. I’ve been with the same person for 5 years and he hadn’t said a word about any of these decisions I was making. Before my first appointment, I asked him how he felt and he said what sounded like the best answer, “It’s your body, it’s not my place.” But after getting the shot and thinking about it for a while, his answer began to upset me. Again, I couldn’t tell if I was upset because of hormones or because of how I was actually feeling. (How scary is that? These hormones made me feel like I didn’t actually know what I was feeling. Was it really me? Or was it some drug that I should just try and ignore?) Eventually I got worked up enough to be like, “You listen here, Bub. If we’re doin’ this, I need to know where you stand. Do you even want kids? With me? What happens if I do get pregnant?” 

And he gave me an awesome answer. If I got pregnant now, it’d be earlier than he wanted, but we’d have 1000% support from his family and he would be happy. 

It sounds stupid that we haven’t talked about it before.. We almost did once, very early in our relationship, and we decided it would be best not to think about it.. not to put pressure on ourselves and just enjoy being together. And for the most part, that’s how it has been. I’m at a point now though, where making these decisions by myself is pretty nerve wracking and our lives are so intertwined that it’s just irresponsible. At the end of the conversation, I apologized for pushing him into a conversation he may have been uncomfortable with. His response, again better than I had anticipated, “It’s okay, I don’t think we have enough conversations like this, as a couple.” 

And I realized I’ve kinda been blaming him for not talking about the future. For not making, or at least voicing, long term plans. It’s just as much my fault, maybe even more my fault, that this doesn’t come up. I’ve always felt that my past serious relationships were burdened by the fact that I was relying on them to be Forever. It made me so worried about those relationships ending that when they did end.. I’ve always compared it to the Sims. When your Sim has that one lifelong fear and you let that fear happen, or that fear happens out of nowhere, and then suddenly time stops and your Sim is fucking crazy and uncontrollable. It was always like that. I always feared the end more than I was enjoying the present. I made a conscious decision to correct that mindset when I entered my current relationship. And it worked, I’ve never been so relaxed and as non-neurotic as I am with him. But I think I took it a little too far. To the point where talking about the long-term became almost taboo. 

Obviously, we’re both starting school and neither of us really knows what we want for our individual lives but still.. it’s unhealthy, right? Living with someone for so long and not knowing how much longer they want to be with you? Certainly feels unhealthy. 

This one conversation opened a boarded up door for us and we recently came upon the topic of marriage. He explained that he didn’t think he ever wanted to get married. He just doesn’t see the point. It was probably my opportunity to tell him that I did want to get married and there were several points to it... but I didn’t. One step forward, one or two back, I guess. I felt so good about being able to talk about this kinda thing, I forgot that maybe I’d hear things I didn’t want to hear. Oh well. It’s better than just leaving everything boarded up and I’m still proud of us. 

I recently decided to stay off any sort of birth control and avoid messing with my hormones as much as possible. Starting school, my dad's condition, my mom being crazy, this whole long-term unknown thing.. my emotions are under enough fire as is. In a couple weeks, the last of that shot should be out of my system, and I should be back in the world of unknown anxiety and raw emotions. 

[unstressessary]

The Skeleton Leaves

Finding old pictures and cryptic messages I left for myself maybe... 6 years ago? doesn’t help this nostalgia/I-regret-more-than-I’m-happy-with-in-my-life funk that I just can’t seem to shake. I found a list of texts that I saved to my phone to look back on later for happy tummy-butterflies. There’s one that is less like butterfly flutters and more like... those whispy-skeletal remains of dust-covered leaves that you find in your garage, blowing around a little when you open it up for the first time since the end of winter.

“I know that no one will ever love me as much or for as right of reasons as you.” 

I hope he still knows that.

[unstressessary]

Negatively Positive

I thought about turning around with this blog and trying to post only positive thoughts and anecdotes, but I’ll be honest, it’s not really my style. I understand I need some more light in my life but I’m not going to fake it until it’s made. The whole point of this blog is for me to look back and remember that how I feel is valid and that there are reasons I’m sad and upset and short tempered. 

Yesterday, my bosses and I (I work in a law office) had to travel about 20 miles to a client with Stage 4 liver cancer’s home to sign his Will. We saw him last week for his Will consult and he was walking (obviously in pain and VERY yellow) and talking. Yesterday, he was curled over a trash can, barely said anything, his skin was even more yellow and he didn’t seem to have much motor function. He was able to sign and acknowledge what was happening, but it was obvious because of not only his appearance but his family’s that he wasn’t doing well at all. 

We just found out that he passed away morning. 

This guy was a total stranger to me, but it still makes me feel dizzy. I just spent most of my morning planning out my class schedule for the fall. That guy spent his morning dying. I know it’s not an easy or natural thing for anyone to think about but for some reason it really fucks with me. Yesterday was exhxausting and a little too close to home (re: my dad’s situation) but finding out today that this guy died less than 24 hours after we left him is a little too much. I know it’s part of what my office deals with but it seriously feels like it’s everywhere around me right now and it’s unstoppable. 

Physically, I feel exhausted. I feel a little disoriented, almost like I have tunnel-vision or those horse-blinder things. I was hoping to get into something creative or organized today, but I’m going to go home after work and nap. I’m going to eat a big fat weed cookie and pass out for a while. I need a shut-down.

This funk I’m in isn’t going anywhere. It’s by far the longest I’ve felt this out of control of my own emotions. I was given a depo shot a month ago and I almost wonder if that has something to do with it.. It’s not like I feel moody, I feel LOW and it’s impossible to move upward on my own. And I don’t want any help doing it either. I’ve been around friends for the last week and a half and it doesn’t help much either. I love seeing them, especially since they’re all so far away.. but it’s just a distraction. An emotional pause button, if you will. I talk about these traumatic things with them, but I don’t want to spend what little time I have with these people possibly ending up in a sobbing heap. It also makes me feel bad for my S/O. He is a fucking sponge, I tell you what. He soaks it all up and while he’s not super sympathetic, he is the stability in my life. I don’t give him as much credit as I should. Have I always been this selfish? 

I’m going to make an effort to be positive. At least a little bit. I found a list of topics/questions to write about when you don’t know what to write about. The first on the list was “What gets you excited about life?”

I’m excited about travelling. I’m excited to be out of my comfort zone and into something new and unseen. I’m excited for the day when it all comes together and I don’t have to worry about if I’m doing the right thing anymore. I’m excited to see my nieces and nephew and brothers grow up. I’m excited about seeing the sunshine and excited to know I have friends all over who can show me new things. I’m excited knowing that when I have the motivation, I have the supplies to make something meaningful and beautiful. I’m excited to continue to look inward and actually consider what I mean to myself.

I’m excited to continue my life. 

[my2ndheartbeat]

Wrinkles, Gray Hair, Scars

“Wrinkles mean you laughed, gray hair means you cared and scars mean you lived!”

[unstressessary]

Shit & Cobwebs

After being down for a couple weeks, I think I’ve bounced back a little. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and I’ve joined my best friend on a trip through sober-town. Today, I’m going to go on a run and start a painting. There, it’s in writing. It has to happen. 

A dream I had last night set me in the right direction, I think. It wasn’t like.. an eye-opening, mind altering kind of shocker dream.. it was just a positive thought. In the dream, I was travelling to Canada with someone I used to be close with. This person and I have tried off and on to talk (it’s usually me who instigates) and we were, in the dream, as we are in real life. Distant and hurt and pretty angry. In the dream, we took this trip together to reconcile. We were with his whole family, but none of them remembered who I was. I was a new person to them and we didn’t bother correcting them. We were all riding in this huge bus/van thing and after a while, I panicked and realized that this wasn’t a situation I should be in, I felt very vulnerable. I didn’t think the whole thing would work. He just looked at me and said “We’re stronger than that and you know it.”

I’ve been thinking about this person for a while now and while I’m unhappy about a lot of things, I keep trying to “fix” it. Or at least make it better. We had a very close relationship at a pretty developmental stage in life and it ended in us hurting each other in a lot different ways. And at first I thought it was guilt that was fueling my desire to make things better but after this last attempt, I realized it’s all about connectivity. I feel like I’m missing a part of myself. I’ve said it before, I’m not trying to mess up my current relationship, there’s just this part of me that I haven’t been able to figure out. Anyway.. this dream may not really have anything to do with what reality is now, but it made me realize.. if we were as close as we thought, and if whatever connection I can’t seem to shake is real.. It’ll come back around or something. I’m not hoping to be best friends again or anything like that, I don’t think that’s a realistic goal. It’s just one of those one-of-a-kind connections that I’ll never find again. And I understand that every connection with every person is different, that’s what makes them so special. What I have right now, I’ll never have with another person and it’s a beautiful thing. But what I had almost 10 years ago (sheesh) was something special too. And I can tell by the way we talk, that it’s still there.. it’s just covered in shit and cobwebs now, I guess. Things suck right now, and I’m having a hard time finding comfort, but maybe someday it’ll be better. And if not, then there’s still no point in pushing and panicking. (How d’you think you got in this mess in the first place?) 

I think this dream was about a specific topic, for sure.. but I woke up this morning feeling overall a little relieved. The same idea applies to a lot. You’re stronger than this, start helping yourself. Yeah, I’m in a slump but I really just need to stop waiting for it to go away. I’m not particularly happy now, and I might not be happy forcing myself to go on a run, but I know I’ll feel better afterwards. I don’t particularly feel the creative juices flowing but.. I know that once I get my canvas set up, I’ll feel so ready to make something beautiful. It’s a tough love thing. Gonna have to beat myself up to feel any better.

[slimetony]

hey people who know astrology shit. ive been having a lot of feeligs lately. any planets i can blame that on.

[chandra-nalaar]

earth

[unstressessary]

Beauty Killer and The Point of Everything

I wonder if maybe I should have tried to have kids by now. Like.. free-will suicide. I don’t have to worry about what to do with myself if I’m focused on what to do with someone else. I don’t think that’s a good way to start a family, by any means.. I wouldn’t mind having my own family, but I’m not about to do it without getting out of this seemingly endless slump first. It’s kinda like when you’re born into a career, there’s no need to worry about if what you’re doing is “right” because you don’t have an option. Someone’s gotta run the family business. It doesn’t do me any good to get worried about babies now, I’m getting the arm implant in July. That’ll keep me sterile for like 3 or 4 years.  

Maybe that’s what I’m subconsciously doing? Is that a thing people do? Limit themselves so they’re forced to focus on other things? If I’ve got the implant, I don’t need to worry about getting pregnant, it (most likely) won’t be an option. In a way, when I signed up for school, that was exactly what my plan was. I can’t feel like I’m not doing anything if I’m committed to doing something.  By committing to school, I’ve successfully limited my chances of getting married in the next two years (probably) ...(not that there are any plans to..) and even though another degree (or just being in classes) will (hopefully) open some doors, I’ve delayed the “what am I doing with my life?” mindset for (again, hopefully) at least until I’ve graduated in 2 years.

Truth is though, the closer I get to starting classes, the less I want to do what I’ve been saying I want to do. I tell people (and myself) that I want to spend my life helping people somehow. Specifically, as a social worker or psychologist of some sort. But I don’t think I know that that’s what I really want. It sounds good and again, it comes down to the burden of choice. Do I really want to commit to a career in an office somewhere, spending my time helping other people? Not really. All I want to do is travel. I don’t want to be stuck anywhere and stay in this “what’s the point?” slump. Especially when it feels like “the point” is to do exactly that; just fucking sit down and be happy already, forget about “the point” entirely.

Unfortunately, so far, that’s pretty much what life has been. Just delaying feeling lost and waiting for something to happen to force me into doing something. I’m just missing something, I think. I don’t know if it’s an idea or a feeling. I just.. feel empty a lot. And I used to feel a lot. I’m not happy with ME. And I used to love me. Or at least think I was pretty cool. 

And now, I’ve got my dogs, my cat, a long-term boyfriend, nieces and a nephew, brothers, two jobs, heading into school to study whatever I want, my "Call-Me-If-You-Need-Anything”s... Way more than I had when I really liked myself. What the hell is wrong with me now? Is this literally a chemical thing? Maybe my brain can’t process happiness anymore.

Despite knowing who my real CMIYNAs are, I feel like when I talk to them, I’m just giving updates. And they’re just responding appropriately. I’m not really starting a dialogue or intending on taking any advice or help with anything. A big part of me is not truly believing most people can help me in any way, and to be honest, I don’t really know what my problem is. I’m just unhappy. It feels like I’m waiting for something (I don’t know what) to happen and I’ve just given up trying to control my situation. 

My problems keep coming back to me feeling selfish and not feeling bad about being selfish but feeling like normal people aren’t like this. I don’t want to change the world, I just want to be happy in it, but I should want to make  a difference. But I really don’t. I’ve been sad for a while. And a little lost. And for some reason, I feel the urge to reach out in the same direction every time I get “stuck” here. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of giving in to that urge recently. I think I (once again) failed, and officially killed something that was once beautiful. I’m not just beating a dead horse anymore, I tried to re-incarnate it like in Full Metal Alchemist and totally just killed it again and then went and got myself stuck in this stupid empty shell for the rest of forever. 

Stupid comparison, but really, it kinda feels like that.

Anyway, in true Carrie’s Shitty Life fashion, they found my cousin dead in her bathtub last week. We weren’t close and I’m not really fond of that branch of my family but a tragedy is a tragedy. And I’m all shook or whatever. They think it was an asthma attack, but we won’t know until autopsy results come back. Also true to Shitty Carrie’s Life (see what I did there?) fashion, I’ve managed to turn this into a selfish thing. Dare I even begin to worry about what’s going to happen next?

[unstressessary]

Stump Slump

It feels like this.. I don’t want to paint. I don’t want to play any video games. I don’t want to fold laundry.

I don’t even want to type this. I’m not sure what else to do though.

I don’t want to look at or feel myself. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t feel happy and I don’t want to cry. 

Music isn’t helping. My cat isn’t helping. My bed isn’t helping.

I want to sleep, so that I can “restart.” I don’t want to lay down because I’ll feel shitty for not getting anything done. I don’t want my roommate to come home and try to talk to me. I don’t want to hurt myself and I really don’t want anyone to try to make me feel better.

I can’t get myself to actually do anything other than pace. I feel physically uncomfortable. It’s like restless leg syndrome, but for my whole body.  It almost seems like tunnel vision, because I can’t actually focus on things. Nothing is interesting to me right now and I don’t care about anything. 

I feel nauseous but I don’t believe that I'm actually sick. I don’t believe it’s real, I’m probably just being dramatic. I’m not panicked, this isn’t a panic attack. I feel like I’ve fucked things up and there’s no getting anything better, so why try? Just become a stump and sit there, forever rooted in place.

I have no reason to be this depressed right now. It’s pretty inconvenient.

[unstressessary]

Step 1 - Put the Horse Down

Usually when I start these, it’s been because I’m in a low mood or am feeling very defeated and too tired to sort things out. This time I’m kinda mad. I’m not like.. super angry just... fucking done, man. 

So let’s talk about it.

I don’t get mad. I don’t like fighting with people. Because someone always ends up getting pushed away and then it’s up to someone to apologize. I’d much rather lay things down and say “Look at it. That’s what it is, period. Now what?” And then move on. I wish there was a “pause” button for feelings. Or a safe-word or something. Like, I want to have this discussion but I don’t want to (and I don’t want you to) feel anything about it. I want you to know what’s up, but I don’t want you to think I’m upset because getting emotional isn’t going to help. If you start getting upset, I’ll lose my footing. And I don’t have the energy to get emotional about anything right now.

I know in the last few entries, I’ve mentioned how I feel connected to people and how I can’t seem to stop “replaying” certain moments from my life over and over. Obsessing and trying to “fix” things has never worked and I’m so stupid for hoping for anything different. 

There’s so much that feels like unfinished business that I’ve just run away from (usually with the intention of never returning) that I’ve tried to revisit. I guess I’d rather not have regrets or feel like I never tried to make anything better. But in reality, I need to learn to just drop it. Some shitty things happened to me. I’ve made mistakes and done shitty things too. And I can’t change or justify anything now. And what good would it do anybody anyway? I’m a lot more conscious now than I was in the past, but I still struggle with letting go. 

I don’t think I’m anywhere near being able to “let go” of a lot of things. And I think there are a lot of things I won’t be able to let go of on my own. But I don’t think I should feel pressured to let go at all and I definitely shouldn’t be pushing anyone else to. 

I do think it is time to stop trying to “hash things out” though. Maybe I am just starting conversations and digging up the past because I desperately need contact with who I used to be.. but I don’t want to lose contact with the things that have made me who I am. I still feel very connected to who I was when I was 6 and 10 and 15 and 20. I’m not necessarily fond of who I am right now. And it’s like I said in one of these other stupid posts.. It feels like I’m killing off a part of myself that I loved, but maybe that part is already dead. [insert clever “beating dead horse” bit (bit... hah.) here] 

Bottom line.. I have too many things to look forward to to be wishing for anything different from the past. I’m not entirely happy right now, but if I’m unhappy because of the past (something that can’t change) then I’ll never be able to get happier. Some day I’ll have positive, forward-thinking entries. First step is knowing you have a problem..