So, in the midst of coordinating a move 1100 miles away, I have come to discover a whole list of "first time" experiences for myself.
1. Living alone. I have never, ever, lived alone before. I've had a day or two or even a long weekend to myself before, but never a time where it went longer than that. Where I had no roommate. I went from living with my parents, to college, and then with Josh. When I was planning my move to Atlanta back in 2007, I had initially harbored thoughts about getting my own place, rather than moving in with Josh. I wanted to establish my independence, just to say that I could do it. But at the time it made no financial or economical sense to live separately, so cohabitation it was.
These last 2 weeks that I've been alone since Josh moved out to get a head start on our new life in Massachusetts, well, it's been eye-opening. I found myself able to do things I always relegated to Josh, whether I thought I couldn't do it or just plain ol' didn't want to do it...opening jars, doing the dishes or taking out the garbage...or even the dreaded killing of the roaches. I've done it with a sense of bravery that I didn't think I had. Certainly I've had my moments of weakness where I've shed some tears (i.e. nearly getting locked out of the house when the latch to the sliding glass door fell down while I was outside and thusly locking the door), but for the most part I'm really proud at how I've handled this being-on-my-own thing.
2. Mowing the lawn. I mowed the lawn once before, technically, but it was a short-lived experience because I ran over a fire ant mound and had to stop that project fairly quickly into starting it. So, this time around, I mowed an entire lawn. I was intimidated by this dangerous machine, because I have a propensity for major accidents (loss of limbs, for example), and was afraid of the worst-case-scenario, however unlikely. But I did it, and the lawn doesn't look half-bad either. Go me!
3. Using a power drill. I dismantled couches, beds, and two major appliances today. When several of the screws in the feet of our couch were fairly stripped, I didn't give up and kept at it with both the drill and a screw driver, and I didn't shed a tear. This is a major thing for me, because I am not a drill and hammer kind of lady. I have virtually no aptitude for it, and my main claim to fame in construction/deconstruction was a "insert tab A into tab B" kind of bookshelf from Walmart 6 years ago. It is wobbly and nowhere near even. I usually give up if it does not immediately look simple, or I cry so terribly that I fall asleep hoping the problem goes away. But I didn't give up. Yes, it sounds silly, that I managed to unscrew some screws without tears, but it's really a major accomplishment for me. Sure, I can cook a thanksgiving meal for 10 without breaking a sweat, but you hand me a screwdriver and I see it as a fancy back scratcher. So, credit where credit is due, no?
4. Driving a van. I hate big cars, trucks, etc. I like teeny tiny cars where I am close to the ground. I had major nerves all morning about picking up the Uhaul truck, having to drive it 3 miles back to the house, and then backing it into the driveway. I couldn't eat all day, because I was sure that I would get into a major accident on the way home. But, I got gas, made it home, and backed it into the driveway in one try (with the help of my very good friend). I sometimes wish I saw more confidence in myself about my abilities to do new things, because it would save me a lot of stress and worry in the future. I see how well this excursion has turned out and I am surprised with the outcome...and I feel like I should set expectations for myself a little higher.
5. Grad school. Hell yeah, I got accepted. This is another example of a self-confidence thing...I thought I was good enough for school, but was I good enough over other applicants? I had that lack of faith in myself, and it was a nagging feeling. Getting that phone call from my admissions counselor was one of the best "firsts" I've had. It validated the whole of my experiences and that someone out there sees something in me that is worth investing in, that I'm going to make a good social worker and counselor one day.
Tomorrow begins the true madness of the move...packing the van, cleaning the house, and waiting for my dad to arrive. Friday we hit the wide open road, and by Saturday we'll arrive, hopefully in one piece. Even if I still need to learn a bit more about building confidences in myself...I do feel like I have really learned a valuable lesson in assertiveness. That is a quality in myself I've always wanted to build on, and I feel like I can take on the world now. Look at this badass go.
Thanks Atlanta, for 6 good(ish) years. I'm sorry we couldn't make it work, but there are some better things coming thisaway for my little family. Here's to the 2nd half of 2013!
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Point blank period.
When I was a young gal, I played a lot of sports. I started out with the usual t-ball, then soccer (which I recall regularly trying to get out of because I hated getting kicked in the stomach all the time by the other players), then baseball (on a boys team...there was only one other girl on the team with me). I remember that being short-lived, because I moved over to softball. I enjoyed softball, and I enjoyed the fact that my dad frequently was the coach for my teams each year. It was nice bonding time with him, it taught me the value of team-manship, working hard, and competition at a healthy, recreational level. It also taught me to be loyal.
I recall a time in the third grade, where after a game that we had lost, one of my team members took it pretty hard and had a good cry afterwards. I remember comforting her, and then we held hands and walked back to the dugout together. Someone on the other team cried out "Ew you are so gay!". I didn't know what that word meant, since I was only 8 or 9, and no one had ever explained that to me. So I asked, "what is gay?" to the offender. She proclaimed that it was when two girls loved each other. To that I replied, "what's wrong with that?", and walked away, still holding the hand of my friend.
Discrimination is not inherent, it is learned. I am thankful that I had parents that did not teach me to hate.
I recall a time in the third grade, where after a game that we had lost, one of my team members took it pretty hard and had a good cry afterwards. I remember comforting her, and then we held hands and walked back to the dugout together. Someone on the other team cried out "Ew you are so gay!". I didn't know what that word meant, since I was only 8 or 9, and no one had ever explained that to me. So I asked, "what is gay?" to the offender. She proclaimed that it was when two girls loved each other. To that I replied, "what's wrong with that?", and walked away, still holding the hand of my friend.
Discrimination is not inherent, it is learned. I am thankful that I had parents that did not teach me to hate.
Monday, February 18, 2013
demarcation of a year
I find myself drawing an imaginary line or maybe even a bookend to the last year. Not even just 2012, but from today back through February of last year. This time last year I was in the throws of not only planning my wedding but also moving to my current residence. We were escaping the daily harassment of our neighbors and their constant state of assholishness...I had reached a point where I could no longer take the sleepless nights as a result of the loud music, calling the police to no avail, and complaints to the property managers that fell on deaf ears.
So we moved. To a rental home. Even though it was a "downgrade" in quality (older home, things in various states of disrepair), it was a major upgrade in quality of life. For the first time since 2004 I finally was able to sleep through the night without the use of ear plugs and noise machines. It was bliss.
And then three weeks into the bliss...I started losing vision in my left eye over the course of three days. I had severe pains, and I kept dismissing it as a bad sinus infection. By the third day my vision in my left eye was virtually gone - I could only see if I looked straight ahead. Peripheral vision was completely gone. I made an appointment with my primary doctor, and they spent an hour hemming and hawing about what it was that I had (to include a discussion about Bell's Palsy because the left side of my face started to droop), and only when I started to cry did they stop talking about me and start talking to me. They sent me to the ER, where I had a panic attack after being kept in an exam room for 3 hours with no one coming in to check on me. I had a delightful experience with Xanax, and thought "Gosh, this is how normal people must feel all the time". I had an MRI and thought I was going to die being trapped in a machine that is an inch away from your face for over an hour. I was finally discharged at 1 in the morning, and ordered to stay home for the remainder of the week, with the exception of going to a neurologist, ophthalmologist, and going to a clinic that would administer steroid injections every day for 2 hours a piece. The injections made everything taste like metal. My neurologist told me that there was a 20% chance I could develop multiple sclerosis in the next two years, but there was still little research done on those with my condition - optic neuritis. They couldn't tell me how I had contracted the neuritis, so I had no what to know how to prevent it from happening again.
When I get stressed out, my eye still hurts. When it's really hot outside, my eye hurts and I get nauseous. But it's been a year since this all happened, and if that's all I've had to cope with as a change in my quality of my health, I'm counting my blessings. I still have another year to go before I'm officially out of the recovery phase, but given all that I've dealt with aside from this ordeal, I think I'm made of tougher stuff.
It's been a year and I'm still kicking.
So we moved. To a rental home. Even though it was a "downgrade" in quality (older home, things in various states of disrepair), it was a major upgrade in quality of life. For the first time since 2004 I finally was able to sleep through the night without the use of ear plugs and noise machines. It was bliss.
And then three weeks into the bliss...I started losing vision in my left eye over the course of three days. I had severe pains, and I kept dismissing it as a bad sinus infection. By the third day my vision in my left eye was virtually gone - I could only see if I looked straight ahead. Peripheral vision was completely gone. I made an appointment with my primary doctor, and they spent an hour hemming and hawing about what it was that I had (to include a discussion about Bell's Palsy because the left side of my face started to droop), and only when I started to cry did they stop talking about me and start talking to me. They sent me to the ER, where I had a panic attack after being kept in an exam room for 3 hours with no one coming in to check on me. I had a delightful experience with Xanax, and thought "Gosh, this is how normal people must feel all the time". I had an MRI and thought I was going to die being trapped in a machine that is an inch away from your face for over an hour. I was finally discharged at 1 in the morning, and ordered to stay home for the remainder of the week, with the exception of going to a neurologist, ophthalmologist, and going to a clinic that would administer steroid injections every day for 2 hours a piece. The injections made everything taste like metal. My neurologist told me that there was a 20% chance I could develop multiple sclerosis in the next two years, but there was still little research done on those with my condition - optic neuritis. They couldn't tell me how I had contracted the neuritis, so I had no what to know how to prevent it from happening again.
When I get stressed out, my eye still hurts. When it's really hot outside, my eye hurts and I get nauseous. But it's been a year since this all happened, and if that's all I've had to cope with as a change in my quality of my health, I'm counting my blessings. I still have another year to go before I'm officially out of the recovery phase, but given all that I've dealt with aside from this ordeal, I think I'm made of tougher stuff.
It's been a year and I'm still kicking.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Remarkable
Just taking a precious free moment to process my thoughts, and remark on my last week in my new position. It's been a whirlwind week, weird office hours, late nights, early mornings, and breathing through the chaos. But it's been exhilarating. Coming from the world of newborn adoptions, foster care is quite different. You look at the world through a much different lens. In my last job, it was a bit more of a rosier picture. Great, courageous women thinking ahead and making a plan for their child, choosing a family that will be parents and raise the child as their own. They each had their reasons, and had the where-with-all to acknowledge they weren't ready or able to be the kind of parent or family they want for their child.
Foster care...well, it's the dirty underbelly of child welfare. For example, the agency I now work for only accepts Level 2 or higher foster children - meaning, our foster parents are trained and ready to parent these kids in care who require therapeutic services. 85% of "our" kids have been sexually abused and have behavioral issues. These are the kids that smear poop on themselves or their surroundings, because it's a defense mechanism they've developed to make themselves "untouchable", even if for a short time. In the last week, I've had the distinct pleasure to meet some of these kids, including a 3 and 4 year old brother and sister just yesterday. They have their issues, for sure. But yesterday they were all about cracking jokes...and that is so, so remarkable to me.
Case worker: "what are you doing in there?"
Boy: "I'm still going potty, one more minute!"
Case worker: "Are you going number 1 or number 2?"
Boy: "Number three!"
Foster care...well, it's the dirty underbelly of child welfare. For example, the agency I now work for only accepts Level 2 or higher foster children - meaning, our foster parents are trained and ready to parent these kids in care who require therapeutic services. 85% of "our" kids have been sexually abused and have behavioral issues. These are the kids that smear poop on themselves or their surroundings, because it's a defense mechanism they've developed to make themselves "untouchable", even if for a short time. In the last week, I've had the distinct pleasure to meet some of these kids, including a 3 and 4 year old brother and sister just yesterday. They have their issues, for sure. But yesterday they were all about cracking jokes...and that is so, so remarkable to me.
Case worker: "what are you doing in there?"
Boy: "I'm still going potty, one more minute!"
Case worker: "Are you going number 1 or number 2?"
Boy: "Number three!"
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Why every day is Thanksgiving lately
The last time I was unemployed, it was due to a company-wide layoff, and the months that followed I had a very "woe-is-me" depressive attitude, wondering why, if the company needed to cut a million dollars from payroll, they laid off the person who made the least amount in the company. A lot of it didn't make sense at the time, and I don't remember a whole lot about how I passed the time before the next job came, save for feeling sad most days.
This time around is a lot different. It's a struggle most days, not because I feel sad, but because I struggle to squelch the anger...a surprising emotion for me, since I am not an angry person (A person of conviction, yes, but not an angry one). I've always had a very happy-go-lucky attitude, and while I have always hated change, I pride myself on being the type who bounces back easily and adjusts to the new circumstances quickly. So to find myself on a near-daily basis finding the anger in some corner of myself coming out when I least expect it, well, it's unsettling. I'm usually unsure of how to cope with the anger, aside from keeping busy or finding new things task myself with...so in the quiet of the day with idle hands in my lap, that's when I see it lurking around, trying to find some way to ruin my day. I've come to learn that this anger is the last laugh of the woman who sabotaged me, because she is an angry person in general. You know the type...always has something to complain about or someone to complain to, if things don't go exactly how she envisioned you can expect a near apocalyptic response on her part. I feel as though she gave me this anger somehow, so that I will share in the anger she has.
That's why I've come to make every day a type of Thanksgiving day. To combat the anger, I find something to be happy about or thankful for every single day...even if it's something stupid. Even if there are ten other things to feel really sad or angry about, looking for the good in each day reminds me that that too shall pass; that I have the ability to be a good and kind and happy person and overcome the obstacles I face - including the residual anger. Even if I stepped on a nail while babysitting, and end up spending the babysitting money on getting a tetanus shot instead...even when my optic neuritis is flaring up and I've lost my glasses so reading books is a no go until I get insurance again...I have to see the good in my day. I have to find that silver lining. I have a family who loves me. A husband who is my rock. Friends that do amazing things every day. A warm home over my head. Pets who unconditionally love Josh and I. Hobbies and talents I enjoy. The change in the seasons. The spirit of the holidays. A good hair day. Hearing Josh's car pull up in the driveway at night. Finding excitement in something new. Hope.
So, for now, Thanksgiving just isn't a day, or even representative of a month to be thankful, but it is how I live my life as of late. That way I can continue to be the person you all know me to be, and not allowing my circumstances to change the very core of who I am for the worse. I hope that the next time you find something wrong in your day, that you take the time to find something good in it too. Just a thought.
This time around is a lot different. It's a struggle most days, not because I feel sad, but because I struggle to squelch the anger...a surprising emotion for me, since I am not an angry person (A person of conviction, yes, but not an angry one). I've always had a very happy-go-lucky attitude, and while I have always hated change, I pride myself on being the type who bounces back easily and adjusts to the new circumstances quickly. So to find myself on a near-daily basis finding the anger in some corner of myself coming out when I least expect it, well, it's unsettling. I'm usually unsure of how to cope with the anger, aside from keeping busy or finding new things task myself with...so in the quiet of the day with idle hands in my lap, that's when I see it lurking around, trying to find some way to ruin my day. I've come to learn that this anger is the last laugh of the woman who sabotaged me, because she is an angry person in general. You know the type...always has something to complain about or someone to complain to, if things don't go exactly how she envisioned you can expect a near apocalyptic response on her part. I feel as though she gave me this anger somehow, so that I will share in the anger she has.
That's why I've come to make every day a type of Thanksgiving day. To combat the anger, I find something to be happy about or thankful for every single day...even if it's something stupid. Even if there are ten other things to feel really sad or angry about, looking for the good in each day reminds me that that too shall pass; that I have the ability to be a good and kind and happy person and overcome the obstacles I face - including the residual anger. Even if I stepped on a nail while babysitting, and end up spending the babysitting money on getting a tetanus shot instead...even when my optic neuritis is flaring up and I've lost my glasses so reading books is a no go until I get insurance again...I have to see the good in my day. I have to find that silver lining. I have a family who loves me. A husband who is my rock. Friends that do amazing things every day. A warm home over my head. Pets who unconditionally love Josh and I. Hobbies and talents I enjoy. The change in the seasons. The spirit of the holidays. A good hair day. Hearing Josh's car pull up in the driveway at night. Finding excitement in something new. Hope.
So, for now, Thanksgiving just isn't a day, or even representative of a month to be thankful, but it is how I live my life as of late. That way I can continue to be the person you all know me to be, and not allowing my circumstances to change the very core of who I am for the worse. I hope that the next time you find something wrong in your day, that you take the time to find something good in it too. Just a thought.
Friday, September 21, 2012
I told you to be patient, I told you to be fine
Hoo boy.
I'll be getting on my soap box for just a minute, but then, I promise, I'll get down.
The last five years has been pretty complicated, filled with obstacles, and even at times downright crappy. There have been accidents, illness, financial woes, job loss, and the general feeling of our lives on "treadmill" mode - working really hard but never really going anywhere, no forward motion. But we've had ups with the downs.
We accept the hits we take knowing that good stuff will come with it too. Sure enough, we've recovered from a lot, and reaped rewards - We got married this year, after 10 of being together. But then I lost my job last month because a jealous coworker sabotaged me for the two months following my promotion, and Josh got in a car accident earlier this week. Life sucks right now. Like, really and truly. Not only am I worried about finding a new job with a termination on my record, but I suffer daily from the traumatizing experience of being royally screwed over by people you thought you could trust (at the very least to be a decent human being if not at least acting like an adult and not a petty 13 year old girl). We're geographically isolated from our families up North, and the political climate during an election season in the South pretty much means crazy people get even crazier. I swear, I can't go to the grocery store without coming back to my car to see my Darwin bumper sticker getting even further scratched up, or my HRC magnet getting stolen. I didn't realize nutjob tea partyers had the right to violate personal property. In public.
But I have good days amidst the hard ones. And I know there will be more good days. And I know that my positive attitude will take me a long way. I know that this too, shall pass. I will be a better person, and I will still be happy and have good people in my life. I was reminded of a quote today, that sums up things right now:
Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
It's not okay yet...so this gives me hope of something to look forward to.
::off soapbox::
I'll be getting on my soap box for just a minute, but then, I promise, I'll get down.
The last five years has been pretty complicated, filled with obstacles, and even at times downright crappy. There have been accidents, illness, financial woes, job loss, and the general feeling of our lives on "treadmill" mode - working really hard but never really going anywhere, no forward motion. But we've had ups with the downs.
We accept the hits we take knowing that good stuff will come with it too. Sure enough, we've recovered from a lot, and reaped rewards - We got married this year, after 10 of being together. But then I lost my job last month because a jealous coworker sabotaged me for the two months following my promotion, and Josh got in a car accident earlier this week. Life sucks right now. Like, really and truly. Not only am I worried about finding a new job with a termination on my record, but I suffer daily from the traumatizing experience of being royally screwed over by people you thought you could trust (at the very least to be a decent human being if not at least acting like an adult and not a petty 13 year old girl). We're geographically isolated from our families up North, and the political climate during an election season in the South pretty much means crazy people get even crazier. I swear, I can't go to the grocery store without coming back to my car to see my Darwin bumper sticker getting even further scratched up, or my HRC magnet getting stolen. I didn't realize nutjob tea partyers had the right to violate personal property. In public.
But I have good days amidst the hard ones. And I know there will be more good days. And I know that my positive attitude will take me a long way. I know that this too, shall pass. I will be a better person, and I will still be happy and have good people in my life. I was reminded of a quote today, that sums up things right now:
Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
It's not okay yet...so this gives me hope of something to look forward to.
::off soapbox::
Saturday, June 30, 2012
it's been five days since you laughed at me
So, it's been one week since the big wedding-do. Since we didn't go the whole traditional route post-wedding (or with anything, really) in terms of a honeymoon and whatnot...I've had some time going about my regular business to ruminate on what it is we just accomplished.
And not much has changed. Honestly, I didn't expect it to feel any different shifting from "non married" to "married", so it's not really surprising that life is just as it always has been. I will say however, that it has given a sense of "newness" to the relationship, as it's the first major change since we moved in together 5 years ago. I am definitely ok with this overall feeling though...I sort of feel like the fantasy that is perpetuated through a big fancy wedding doesn't necessarily give a good landing pattern when it's time to actually put in the hard work of having a good relationship. Life isn't about tulle and pink and champagne toasts...it's about laughing off the rain and thunder soaked ceremony, getting mud on your new heels and not giving a shit, and knowing that even if the tent rips out from the ground and food is flying off tables, your new husband is still standing there holding your hand and laughing with you.
I asked Josh what his favorite part of the wedding was...and he told me that he was panicked about the thunderstorm impeding on the ceremony, and worried about how I was handling it. When I came running into the tent with my parents, laughing my ass off at how completely ridiculous the situation was, he felt peace and knew that for him, he was marrying the best woman in the world for him. That, to me, is what a marriage should be, and has always been for us for the last 10 years...plus one week.
I think if anything has really changed since being married is that for the first time ever, I gave Josh one of my colds. Maybe that's what marriage is about too. Sharing germs?
Also, as a semi-official announcement...I have kept my last name. I am not a "Mrs." of any kind. I feel that part of my identity lies in my name, first, last, or otherwise, and have no desire to change that. I also am not a Mrs, because while it is something that many women feel comfortable being addressed as, I do not. When in doubt, just call me by my first name...just don't call me late for dinner. ;)
And not much has changed. Honestly, I didn't expect it to feel any different shifting from "non married" to "married", so it's not really surprising that life is just as it always has been. I will say however, that it has given a sense of "newness" to the relationship, as it's the first major change since we moved in together 5 years ago. I am definitely ok with this overall feeling though...I sort of feel like the fantasy that is perpetuated through a big fancy wedding doesn't necessarily give a good landing pattern when it's time to actually put in the hard work of having a good relationship. Life isn't about tulle and pink and champagne toasts...it's about laughing off the rain and thunder soaked ceremony, getting mud on your new heels and not giving a shit, and knowing that even if the tent rips out from the ground and food is flying off tables, your new husband is still standing there holding your hand and laughing with you.
I asked Josh what his favorite part of the wedding was...and he told me that he was panicked about the thunderstorm impeding on the ceremony, and worried about how I was handling it. When I came running into the tent with my parents, laughing my ass off at how completely ridiculous the situation was, he felt peace and knew that for him, he was marrying the best woman in the world for him. That, to me, is what a marriage should be, and has always been for us for the last 10 years...plus one week.
I think if anything has really changed since being married is that for the first time ever, I gave Josh one of my colds. Maybe that's what marriage is about too. Sharing germs?
Also, as a semi-official announcement...I have kept my last name. I am not a "Mrs." of any kind. I feel that part of my identity lies in my name, first, last, or otherwise, and have no desire to change that. I also am not a Mrs, because while it is something that many women feel comfortable being addressed as, I do not. When in doubt, just call me by my first name...just don't call me late for dinner. ;)
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