Tightrope

Hoo-boy!  My inaugural semester of For Real Nursing School has begun and finding any sort of balance has been, in the very least, like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree. (i.e. SUPER HARD)

I’ve been hit with a ton of information.  The last few semesters have been spent laying the groundwork for my bachelor’s degree and completing umpteen pre-requisite classes for the Real Nursing Stuff.  And now?  Now it is all very, very real.

Like, learning actual nursing stuff.  Stuff that I thought I knew but man…I had no idea.

Can you tell my brain is melty and any sort of sentence formation outside of medications and procedures and medical mumbo jumbo is nearly impossible?  Does the stress show?  Does this STARK RAVING WHITE uniform make me look fat(ter)?

People keep telling me it will be worth it and that the hard work and humiliation is a rite of passage.

I do have to admit that actually learning the mundane nursing processes is kind of fun in a nerdy sort of way.  And I’m a big nerd.  So I’m sort of loving it, sort of hating it, and definitely thanking the heavens that my roommate is on the exact same track and in the exact same classes as myself.  I don’t know if I’d be strong enough to walk this path alone.

Anyway, enough about me…how are you?  Reading blogs is something that has fallen to the bottom of my list..however, you guys are still above laundry and showering.  See?  I still love you, even if I’m absent.

Proof That The Older Are Wiser

Scene:  FREEZING WINTER DAY.  I need to do laundry so I threw on a hat and a ratty pair of jeans to make it down to my apartment complex laundry room.  No makeup.  Shower hasn’t happened.  Hoping not to run into anyone.  Just as I thought I was safe and exiting the laundry room to make a mad dash for my door an elderly neighbor man comes out of his apartment.

Old Guy:  It’s cold out here!

Me:  Yeah!  (Trying not to make eye contact because I don’t want my appearance to give him a stroke.  Or give him any proof that life is wasted on the young.)

Old Guy gets in my face.  After ten awkward seconds of silence…

Old Guy:  You are a beautiful and nice young lady.

What can I say?  When he’s right, he’s right.

I hope all of you find validation today.

Waiting At The Rainbow Bridge

He was the most idiosyncratic cat I’ve ever known.  And you can go ahead and read that as:  BITCHY.

He was my ex-girlfriend’s cat and she warned me that no one was ever really able to get near him.  That he was a naughty kitten and liked to attack people.  I walked in to her apartment that first time, fearless, for some reason.  He ran right to me and stood up on his hind legs with his front legs stretched up…like a toddler begging to be carried.  I picked him up and it was cemented in fate.  Tigger was officially my cat and he greeted me that way every single time I walked through the front door for the rest of his life.

I was with that girlfriend for a long time and when it ended, I took Tigger with me.  I was the only one he loved.  He was absolutely a one-woman cat.  He would learn to tolerate others but never really trusted them.  One wrong touch and he’d swat at hands and show his demon side.

Tiggs got more like a queen as he got older.  I joked that he was a bitchy gay man and I was his hag.

Eventually…gradually and then suddenly, it got to the point where I wouldn’t have people over to my house.  Not without a lot of warnings and cautions about the cat.  Don’t touch the cat!  Ignore the cat!  And then I’d be a bundle of nervous energy until they left.

Gradually and then suddenly, like bankruptcy, Tigger became a liability.

Making this decision was unbelievably difficult.  He was always great with me.  Until he wasn’t.  He’d spiral when guests came over and sink into some sort of blind rage.  He couldn’t see me when he was so terrified and aggressive.  He couldn’t see me and I couldn’t calm him down.

He became scary.  Make no mistake, I considered just living with him and sequestering myself from the rest of the world, never having family or friends over until he died of natural causes.  I love animals more than humans, but even I had to admit that that lifestyle choice wouldn’t have been fair to me.

For months I spent hundreds of dollars and tried all sorts of pills and potions to calm him down.  They made him sick and acutely UN-Tigger. I put it off because of this reason or that reason.  I ran out of reasons last week.

And so I had to euthanize him.

This was a very bad day.

I love you, Tiggs.  You were my feisty and fierce companion.  Right up until the very end.  You were there when the rest of the world wasn’t.  I told you my deepest, darkest secrets.  You would only purr in response and snuggle me when I cried.  You were with me through the darkest period of my entire life.

You were the best kitty…even if you refused to show your softer side to the rest of the world.

Because Ben Wanted A Post For Christmas

Family members on my mother’s side number over one hundred.  Going to Christmas dinner meant hours of shoulder to shoulder family merriment and waiting in long lines to use the bathroom.  There wasn’t a kid’s table at these events…there was a separate wing for the children.  A family with thirteen children and dozens of cousins is bound to have conflict.  All of those personalities shoved into one space usually led to raised voices and silent tears.  I never understood it and used to write monologues about how amazing our family could be, how incredible a support system all of us could have, if we’d all just stop being so petty about the stupid stuff.  No one listened.  I felt like I was so different from all of them.  My brain worked the opposite of theirs.  I had no idea where I fit.  Neither did anyone else.  So I stopped going.

However, I started to love Christmas with my stepfather’s family almost immediately after I gave up on my mother’s side.  My stepfather’s family was small and generally void of conflict.  They aren’t without their issues, of course, but at least we have gotten through many, many holiday gatherings without someone running out of the room crying.

I’ve started to look forward to this time of year and find great joy in sitting down to a meal with people that I usually only see once a year.  They are broken and imperfect and I love them in spite of it all because they belong to me.

This Christmas finds my mother in the hospital, my father driving semi truck, my grandmother facing her first holiday season as a widow, and everyone in the tri-state area marooned by an ice storm.

I’m alone in my apartment, now.  Last night I made a pot roast and smashed some potatoes.  I took the meal over to my grandmother’s house in hopes of easing any of the lonely aches she must be feeling on this first Christmas without her husband.  We ate and watched a bit of It’s A Wonderful Life.  Turns out granny had quite the crush on Jimmy Stewart back in the day.

I’ve called my mother but she’s still in a lot of pain from surgery and, I’m guessing, isn’t even aware that it’s Christmas today.  She has a Fentanyl drip.  The second coming of Christ could happen and she wouldn’t know the difference.

Even though the weather has sort of poo pooed everyone’s holiday, I’m thankful.

I have a full life.  I’m blessed with great friends and family.  I have a job that I love.  I’m able to go to school.  I have plenty of food.  I have a car that gets me where I need to be.  I’m healthy.

I hope this season has found you counting your blessings as well.  I firmly believe that the energy we put out into the world comes back to us ten fold.  Positive equals positive.

Look at the good in life, people.  Acknowledge the bad but try not to dwell on things you can’t change.  Take steps to make your life better if you’re unhappy.  Choose to think better.  Act better.  Choose to be better.  It makes all the difference.

It Is Okay To Love Her

So often I give people the benefit of the doubt.  I make excuses for their behavior and go easy on them.  This probably doesn’t apply to all the drunk college kids I pick up with the ambulance on the weekends, but in general, I give people a pass.  When they snap at me or seem out of sorts, I think to myself that they must be going through something and I give them a break.

I never do that with you.  I expect one hundred percent from you, one hundred percent of the time.  There is no excuse for laziness or bad choices.  I’m hard on you.  Because I know you’re capable of so much more than you’re letting yourself have.  And frankly, it pisses me off when you sell yourself short.  I know that you can dig deeper and go farther.

Sometimes, I understand your choices.  I get that life is sticky and isn’t without its challenges and that sometimes you just need to sit back and catch your breath.  I’m all for staying fresh and avoiding the roller coaster of stress and mayhem that the daily grind can cause.

It’s when you choose not to start again that really makes me angry.  It’s only when your “break” or “treat” turns into weeks and weeks off course that really hurt my heart.  You are so much better than that.  And I am ALWAYS surprised when it happens.

You’re visibly happier when you’re treating yourself well.  Your insides are working and your head is clear.  Your outlook on the world is damn near chipper.  You’re able to sleep.  You’re actually kind of annoying when you feel healthy and I love that about you.

I love that your laughter is infectious and that, of everyone I know, you tend to giggle at the most socially inappropriate times. I love that you have plans.  For the first time in probably forever, you have a clear goal of what you want and who you want to be.  That’s awesome and exciting!  And I love the drive you’re showing in spite of how absolutely terrified you feel.  The outside world never sees you sweat it.  You exude confidence without being fake.  You admit your fears, but you press on anyway and focus on the positive.  I love that about you.

So, can you understand why I get so upset when you sabotage your authentic self?  That sounds a little too self-help book, I know.  But you are this…this….LIFE FORCE, and you keep squelching it.  You keep tampering it down and I can’t understand why.

Are you afraid of success?  Are you afraid that if you go for it, if you accomplish everything you want, if you wake up one day and find that you’re not wanting for anything…that means you have a lot to lose?  Or will “having it all” mean that you have nothing else to strive for and THAT is what freaks you out?

Let me assure you, there will ALWAYS be something else to shoot for.  There will always be another goal to work towards and another dream on the horizon.  It’s what life is all about.  It’s how you’re supposed to live.  You’re supposed to constantly be looking for ways to improve yourself and the world you live in.  THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT.  So don’t let the fear of reaching a goal scare you.

It’s okay to get what you want.  It’s okay to be blessed.  You deserve it.

Is that it?  You’ve always had trouble with the word “deserve”.  Who are we to say one person is entitled to goodness and another person isn’t?

Know this.  If you work for it, it’s okay that you have it.  If you put in the time and energy needed to reach a goal, CELEBRATE when you get there.  Don’t let the fact that not everyone has the same drive and devotion you do rain on your party.  If everyone else applies themselves, they’ll reach their goals, too.  You can only be held accountable for your actions.  You are only responsible for this one life.  Everything else…everyone else…isn’t in your control.  So don’t hold yourself back because you think others will feel bad in light of your successes.

You have it in you and you know that.  But sometimes I think you consciously try to grow stagnant.  You’ll be on a winning streak and then hit the brakes because you’re starting to feel really good about who you are as a person and you get a little weird when you start actually LIKING yourself.  You’re not used to that.  You’re not used to being comfortable and liking (dare I say loving?) who you are.  You’ve had self-esteem and self-image issues since you were in utero, after all.  So when you find yourself falling in love with someone who you had deemed so unworthy for the whole of your life, it’s bound to throw you for a loop.

But now that I’ve told you all of this…you can’t say that you didn’t know.  You can’t wonder anymore why you wrestle with yourself.  You know now.  You can’t claim ignorance.  Your motives aren’t hidden anymore.  I’ve shined the light on them and now there they are.

So stop it.  Stop the back and forth.

Go ahead and be your own definition of incredible.  It’s okay to feel good about yourself and it’s okay to invest in yourself.  I wish everyone could feel that about themselves.

So go ahead and show them how.

You’re Welcome

She Has Trouble Acting Normal When She’s Nervous

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been waking up after three or four hours of sleep and then staying awake.  I mean, I eventually fall asleep again, but unfortunately sleep will find me during a test or in the middle of a conversation with my roommate.  It’s fun.

This morning I woke up around 3AM.  The pattern I’ve established is that I toss and turn while thinking about nine million different things, all seemingly unrelated.  Of course, I know that all things in life are related to the other and stress in one area may very well lead to stress in every other area.  Right?  Or am I just talking crazy because of lack of sufficient REM sleep cycles?  Yeah.  Probably that second one.

November has been an Off The Charts flavor of ridiculous.  I’ve been thinking about what direction this website should be taking.  I started it as a way to chart my progress on living a fit and healthy life.  I know!  I’m gasping and choking back laughter even as I sit here!  Then it sort of morphed into this place to write about the STRUGGLES of trying to live a healthy and fit life in the midst of…well, my unhealthy and lazy lifestyle.  It became a place to celebrate my successes and lament my failures.  But then, dude, the failures TOTALLY started outweighing (pun absolutely intended) the victory stories and then this blog became a virtual version of an oil change.  I just avoided it and ignored it until absolutely necessary.

I thought of ending it all.  Just deleting this blog and turning it into vapor.  It wouldn’t be like quitting, I told myself.  It’s not as if there is anyone out there who REALLY is depending on my words.

Except myself.  Me.  I depend on my words.  I am the one who finds an outlet by writing.  I’m the one who gets a little twitchy and weird and awkward if a few days go by and I haven’t written anything.  The weeks-long gaps in this blog are extremely uncomfortable for me.  Which is odd, because I know that I can make it better, but I choose not to.

If you have a blog, I’m sure you’ve gone through the whole dramatic scene of scrutinizing content and trying like hell to find something worthy of writing about.  I’m sure you’ve struggled with the knowledge that your blog is YOURS and therefore you know that whatever you want to write about is okay.  You’re totally the boss.  But then you start to get a few regular readers and it feels like now, you have an audience and this isn’t just a journal and you have a responsibility to entertain.  Dance, monkey, dance!

And as a blog READER, you know that you’ll keep coming back to blogs you love, not necessarily for the streamlined content and witty ramblings (although that certainly helps), but for the relationship you start to feel with the author.  I read a lot of websites that jump around from topic to topic depending on what the writer’s life is like on any given day.  I go back because I’m curious.  I go back because, frankly, it’s all about me.  I feel better about myself when I read some websites.  There are some blogs that inspire me, make me laugh, make me feel something other than freaked out about school and money…which seem to be my common themes of the last month.

So, if you’re reading my blog for you–awesome and thanks.  If you’re reading my blog because you feel you have some sort of kinship with me–you’re probably right.  We are all much more alike than we realize.  We all want the same things.  Love, friendship, and a sense of belonging.  I hope my voice speaks to you on some level and I hope I either make you laugh or make you think or just manage to take your mind off of the daily grind for a while.  If I don’t do any of those things…then what in the hell are you doing here?  Shoo!  Go find a website that is at least a tiny bit fulfilling!

I’m not going to delete this because I’ve “failed” at the original direction of the blog.  I’m going to keep coming here and writing about what’s going on in my life…for me.  And whatever path the website makes for itself, I’ll just follow along.  It will most likely never fit into a neat category like Mommyblogger or Foodie Blog or Health Blog or Fitness Blog.  I will never have a panel at BlogHer.  And I’m okay with that.  That was never my intention, anyway, but it’s so easy to get sucked up into all of it.

I’m going to keep writing because there are people out there like myself.  People who don’t have a clear-cut path from the current to the future.  There are a lot of us who struggle and plod along, starting new endeavors and then realizing that we’ve changed our mind.  So we stop and take stock and choose a new path.  It looks like we’re quitters.  Maybe we are sometimes, but there are so many other times when we just don’t want to waste our time simply for the sake of finishing.  Showing up for life and finishing what you’ve started is important…so maybe I just tell myself that it’s okay not to because I want to let myself off the hook.

How is it possible to be a perfectionist and a sloth all at once?

I’m in pain.  I can’t sleep.  I am overwhelmed with the facets of life I’ve chosen.  I’ve lost perspective.  Every little thing seems like the end of the world.  Every decision seems to weigh five hundred pounds.

I’m struggling.  With nearly everything.