baggage

Everyone has problems, everyone deals with stuff. Everyone goes to work/school/hang outs with baggage...

I don't like this hierarchy of baggage business. I don't like that people triage their baggage when talking to other people...as if anyone's problems really outweigh someone elses. I feel like on those days where everything runs smoothly for me, I'll always have 'fallback' problems to complain about/worry about: my weight, my lack of boyfriend, my hectic life and my other various insecurities. Everyone, no matter if they were raised in a perfect household or have to deal with an abundance of life's obstacles, everyone has this problem threshold. When the threshold is exceded we end up stressed out, overwhelmed, and crazy. Under that personal threshold and it's all manageable. 

I guess in some ways (in many ways) I've been blessed with one of the weirdest childhoods in human history; with having adult responsibilities at a young age. I don't take stuff for granted. I work. I take care of my parents more than they take care of me. But I try my hardest not to complain or make people feel bad about their problems! I know that finding a job is difficult or that that test you bombed might seem like the end of the world (hell, we've all been there, too!) those things are a big deal. Your boyfriend dumping you is still a big deal to me even though my mom is sick. The fact that you're shivering because your heat doesn't work in your apartment also sucks! You finally had to get a job after being cut off from your parents? Lame. Haven't gotten laid in years? Cat just died? That stuff all sucks. That's why I've been trying (unsuccessfully?) just to keep cancer stuff in. No one needs to feel like their big problems are irrelevant or trumped or anything...I just happen to have been dealt a crappy hand of poker. No one needs an extra human to worry about; we've all got shit, we've all got baggage. We might not win this round, but who says we lost the game?

I guess that's the kicker then: the way others deal with it. Nothing is impossible, no challenge too great. Take what life throws at you and throw it right back with as much grace and dignity as was whipped at you. Look on the positive side sometimes, people! You can still play with a bad hand, no need to quit the game just yet.

crumbling

Sometimes I wonder how normal girls in nursing school live. I wonder about those people that wake up in the mornings and shower, put foundation on, and blow dry their hair. I wonder what they think about as they pull on all their winter gear and head out the door to bike to class. I wonder what they think about as they sit there and pay attention without letting their mind wander across an ocean. I wonder what happens at lunch when they chat with all their friends about their school work, their boyfriends, they're super diets to save up the calories for Thanksgiving. I wonder what they do after school, do they go to the library to actually read the assigned chapters? Do they read extra, above and beyond what's required for the quizzes? After studying, do they go home to their friends and boyfriends and do fun things? Do they work sometimes? Do they call their parents? Do they go to the gym?

I feel so alienated from normalcy lately. I feel like I've (surprise surprise) been thrust into that corner of grown-up responsibility compounded by many too many previous responsibilities that just seem to grow like insatiable raccoons hiding in the garbage cans outside my window. Yep, I think they're out there, I hear rustling sometimes. Raccoons, if you're reading, kindly leave our backyard.

When I read back on what I think normal people do, I guess it's not so far from what I do usually, except for the constantly thinking about escaping this place and worrying that I'm going to die or my family is going to die. I feel like my hypochondria is waning lately...replaced with constant worry about my mom. I guess I've never really been confronted by someone dying before. Or possibly dying. I tried to keep that thought at the very, very back of my mind. Tried to keep my chin up. I convinced myself that my mom will survive this, obviously, there's very little risk here. When I hear the risks, I just kind of assume that she'll be in the upward swing of that statistic, that death won't find her after she's run so feistily after all these years. But I guess the truth of the matter is that there is a very real and scary chance that I could lose my mother really soon. That she won't respond very well to the chemo and it will kill her faster than the cancer would have. I don't know how to think of that. I guess it's like trying to imagine a googolplex things...unfathomable basically. I'm not sure how I would take it. I guess the chances of my outliving my mom are pretty reasonable, so I'm not sure how I will take it. I have this grand plan that if that happens, I'm just going to uproot and forget my life here. Just start over. Take it as a sign of being free to do what I want.

I'm so confused and trying to stay strong to show everyone else that it will be okay too. I was doing a great job, and I hope to still be, but is it at the cost of reality? At the cost of accepting my mothers mortality?

adjustments continue

It's been a long two weeks, but also I guess a short two weeks. (Totally going for that Charles Dickens vibe right now). I've started my new (incredibly time consuming) job at Oakwood, which I love and gives me the experiences I want and reminds me why I want to be a nurse every day. I worked a lot this week: 35+ hours, plus school, plus working with the guy I work with in home. I didn't get much homework done, but I did try to get things turned in on time. One big regret from last weekend was letting social time get in the way of a good grade (may have ruined my chances at getting an A in that class at all, but hey, maybe this is just a sign from god for me to just not give so much of my soul to school anymore...)

I'm 22 now, and feel like I'm getting older. It's harder to concentrate. It's harder to retain information. It's harder to learn things. It's harder to have patience for slowly but surely becoming a cat lady.

All this work lately with dying/elderly people has me thinking about so many things in such a major way. First of all, I am scared of dying alone, still, after all these years, I'm pretty sure my worst fear is still dying alone. Watching people care for their loved ones while they are in the last hours/days/months/years of their lives is touching and makes me happy for them, sad for them, and oddly jealous all at the same time. Happy because there is so much love out there, so many people full of life and hope that they want to remind people how much they're loved right up until their last breaths. Remind them of their lives worth living. There is so much life and energy and humor in these people (the families...not always the patients. Patients can be rather frightening at times and also to all those who believed that dying was a graceful passage into the great beyond, spoiler alert! it's not.) Sad for them in that these types of events can tear apart families. It ends marriages. The death of a spouse seems like one of the most traumatizing experiences that one could experience...It's nice to see the strength of humanity but terribly depressing all at the same time to know that as humans we have to endure such pain. Jealousy happens only because part of me, somewhere deep down, has a strong sneaking suspicion that I will die alone blah blah blah because of all the aforementioned reasons in this blog (blah blah blah I want it so bad that it'll never happen to me, etc, etc, etc). Not to steal a line from Mr. Gibbard again, but who's going to watch you die?


Anyway, off of that depressing business. Life here has also felt antsy. Lost. In the way that I know that something isn't right but I can't pinpoint it at all. I feel like my experiences recently have ruined me for real life. I feel like this is no longer my life, but rather some bookmarked page in a book that I put down for a year and picked back up and only vaguely remember the plot and main characters mid-way through the story. I wonder if this feeling will ever alleviate itself.

I'm going to Germany in 38 days. I literally count the hours. I look at somewhat torturous tasks as just ways to make it hours closer to my deparature. Anything to get away from here again...so much stress and worrying and not enough (but somehow all at once way too much?) socializing.



My life has taken a turn for the extremely weird and incredibly disorganized.