A few days later than I said...

But I'm back within the week. That's something, right?

Finally took care of my headache via the ER. Sucks because it's another bill to add to the pile, but my head doesn't hurt anymore and that's awesome. Another CT scan (Clean) but I don't think I will be totally at ease until I get a MRI. I'm still all groggy and bleh from the Morphine they gave me. It's crazy how long that stuff lasts. I will feel fine for a few hours then a new wave of it will hit me and I get all sluggish and spacey. The day after I had it, I was talking to people and carrying on full conversations only to not remember them hours later. I would remember talking to someone but nothing of that was said. I was replying to text messages the same way. I had to read all the ones over in my inbox later to remember everything.

I submitting my intent to enroll at the community college down here for the fall. I'm kind of excited, but at the same time I'm trying not to get my hopes up because I don't think I'll be able to afford any of it. We'll have to see. I'm not sure where to go from here but to apply for FASFA. I'm also starting the steps to apply for the IL EBT card and once I get my birth certificate and high school transcripts, get my IL driver's licence and then (hopefully) some sweet, sweet state health care. Fingers crossed. I really need this.

I haven't slept for more than a few hours (the most being around 4, I think) at a time in about two weeks. Tonight I am sufficiently exhausted and have nothing to do early tomorrow so here's hoping tonight is the night that breaks that. I can tell the toll it's taking on my body and mind. Achey and Spacey have become my BFF's.

Speaking of which, I am totally zoning out over here. I'll come back soon, I promise.
Things are slowly moving in the right direction. Feels kind of nice.

Hmmm...

I seriously feel like I could copy/paste that last post almost word for word and it'd be right on the money of where I am emotionally right now. The sleep thing, the stress thing, the tumor thing. Everything is exactly the same as it was the last post I made. Why do I only write when I'm upset? Something needs to change with that. Maybe if I kept this up a bit more, I would have a way to destress on a daily basis and not leave it all to build up. I'm more than giving it serious thought, dear reader. I've said it before, but I'm going to start writing more. I always forget the calm feeling of peace it gives me, until the moment I absolutely need it.

The sleep thing is terrible. Every night for two weeks yada yada yada. You know the story. I need to find a job that doesn't keep me up all night, the only times we have the kids. I hate not seeing them as much and being so worn out and crabby from lack of sleep around them. It's no way to be a (parent?) I only have two days a week with them and as much as I never really thought much about having kids before all the drama in Oregon, I'm really enjoying these kids. Possibly because the same sense of humor I've found in their father, the one I worked so hard to hide, is in all of them. It's amazing. I hope they never feel like they have to hide that from anyone. I hope even more they can find more people who relate to that later on in life, when it really means something.

I just need a new job period. There's seriously nothing good about that place. As much as I want to, I won't go into detail because I don't feel justified in complaining about a place that I only enter two times a week. That's one of the problems though. I've never worked this little in any job I've had. And at a time where I need it. I know right now I feel like shit physically, but as much as it hurts, if it still does tomorrow, I have to go in. I can't afford to give up one fourth of my paycheck because I don't feel well.

One thing I am sooo very thankful for right now, is as shitty and pissy and angry as I am- This is the first time I've felt all that, and not had to fight the urge to cut. It's not even there. I still want to cry and maybe punch a dude. But that feeling of being so weak and helpless and just want to make myself hurt...it's totally absent. And that's amazing to me. I know it will be back. I've thought a lot, and spoke with a lot of other people about addiction in the past few months, and it's weird to call cutting an addiction (to me anyway) but I know people have problems with it and I was one of them. I don't think I beat it by any means. I know I never will. But it's just one less thing I have to deal with right now.

I've noticed when ever I get into one of these moods is that I don't feel pretty. I don't feel attractive and I hate looking in the mirror. I guess it's part if the "thinking about ever flaw" deal. It counts the physical ones too. That, and I hate this fucking hair cut. Seriously. Worst hair cut ever.

The biggest thing of all that I'm trying to work though is just general missing things. I miss having a cat in the worst way. It's actually bothering me, not having one. I miss Oregon. Not any of the people there by any means, but I miss looking out and seeing the mountains. I miss the smell of the wood mill. I just miss the general beauty of it. It's so flat here, and I've never really noticed how flat it is in the mid west until being away from it. When I was in Oregon, I missed the fields so I guess it's a catch 22. And I don't have any intentions of returning there. Ever. I lost a big part of me when I was out there, and I'm just starting to get it back. I'm just starting again to be comfortable just being me and not trying to be anything else.

I'm starting to go back to all the places I've lived in my mind, and thinking I was happier then, but I know I'm not. I know that it's the mood I'm in right now just fucking with me. The scenery in Oregon was pretty, sure, but holy shit there was so much wrong with everything in my life when I was out there. I was making shit tons more money in Green Bay than I am now, sure, but I was in tears almost every day from the stress and negitiveness that surrounded me all the time. Minnesota is great, and all my family is there, but even when I was back in December, the same thing happened then that does every time I'm there. I love my family for about three days, then I'm so ready to be gone again. I obviously love them all the time. They just piss me off so much sometimes. Where I am, right now, in this relationship, is great. I need to get off my ass and figure out some schooling, try and get a better job and all that. But I'm happy. On a day to day basis, I'm happy. It's so hard to remember that when I'm like this.

This is getting insanely long. Thank you for reading. I'm favorite-ing the site right now, and I will see you tomorrow-If only just to check in.

I hate this shit.

I'm warning you now, this isn't going to be a happy post.

I can't sleep. It's been about two weeks since I've gotten a decent night/day sleep. Most days I can't fall asleep and I lay in bed for hours. Tonight, I fell asleep, but for about 20 seconds and then I was wide awake again. While I'm laying in bed, every single negative thing about me, about my life- comes at me. One thing after another until I start crying. Without fail. Every night. I want to cut right now, really really bad, but there's one thing stopping me. And I'm never going to give in to the urge to cut. I can't do it. I'm not going to let it get on top of me. If I've learned anything in the past few weeks, it's been that I can't let something get a hold of me like that.

Right now, I'm not only depressed. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and I am just angry. I'm so pissed off at nothing. I want to break something. I want to yell and flip out and release all of whatever is pent up inside of me. I'm trying to calm myself down. I know this is all disjointed but I'm not writing for any one's benefit but my own.

The thing I hate the most right now is the fact that I want nothing more than to talk to the man sleeping peacefully in our bed about this. But I'm so terrified of opening up. After nearly six months in a great relationship, I still can't forget what my last relationship did to me. I try so hard to talk, but I wimp out at the last minute. I'm even more terrified that he'll leave me because I'm damaged. John was the only person I opened up to completely, and he brought up everything I hated about myself, every fucking flaw I have and rubbed it in my face when things weren't going his way.

Besides all this, my left eye has been twitching for the past two weeks, my migraines are getting worse and more frequent and I'm starting to get physically weak again. I couldn't break ice out of the tray today. It actually hurt. I hope that I'm just reading too much into it, but it scares the hell out of me. I can't afford an MRI. They gave me a CAT scan at the hospital in September, but they gave me one in the hospital in Oregon two weeks before my MRI showed a tumor, and that CAT scan didn't show anything, either.

I know the sleeping is stress related. I've been through it enough to know the pattern. I'm fine for a few months, and then one small thing after another builds and builds until I break. From there I see all the big things- When am I going to figure out what I want to do and start school? What am I going to do about money. How am I going to pay off the mountain of debt? What am I going to do about medical insurance? I'm supposed to be on medications for hormone replacement after the surgery, but I can't afford it. I can't afford to be checked out by a doctor. I can't afford to get a migraine that kicks my ass into the hospital, but at least they don't ask for money up front. It just goes on top of the pile of debt.

It's insane, why can't I just let things go and be normal. Why can't I just talk about this in the open, instead of hiding behind a keyboard. I'm posting this and people I barely know are going to read it, but I can't go wake up my boyfriend and ask him to hold me because I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want to inconvenience him by waking him up because of something that's my problem. I think the thing I'm most afraid of is reaching out to someone and having them turn around and walk away.

I hate this shit.

Part Two

I didn't realize it had cut off part of my post last night. Here's the rest of it.

Upon seeing him in that bed, all that shit hooked up to him I was so close to losing it. I didn’t want him seeing how scared I was. I didn’t want him having to reassure me that everything was going to be ok. He was the one that needed a rock. I’m not going to get into all the medical details of what went down, that’s something that isn’t my personal information to give out. But it was not good. They ended up keeping him overnight; something he was not pleased with. I stayed with him, slipping out every so often to smoke and clear my head.

It was the longest night of my life, watching him. I prayed harder than I ever had in my short praying career. Some were selfish. I wanted him to be ok because I didn’t want to be without him. Many were just for whatever happened to not be permanent or do any lasting damage. I just wanted him to come out of it healthy. I just wanted him to be ok.

I didn’t sleep more than a half hour. I just sat and rubbed his leg, listening to him sleep. I wanted so much to crawl next to him and snuggle him more for my own comfort. It was the first night in a long time that we weren’t sleeping next to each other and that just felt strange. But he needed rest so I let him get as much as he could. It’s part of the reason why I’m writing this now. He’s sleeping and I’d just be tossing and turning.

So now we’re here. It wasn’t a heart attack, and it’s something related to the virus he had a few weeks ago. It’s not serious and it should just go away. Once we got settled back in the apartment, it was like any other night with him - full of laughter and foot slaps. He’s going to be ok.

Hopefully now I can sleep.

I didn’t start writing this to go off on a tangent about the ins and outs of faith and belief. I started writing this because last night we thought Mack had a heart attack, and while I was freaked out at the time, the whole thing just came crashing down on me and I needed a way to release some stress. Writing has always helped. It might not seem connected, but it is.

I’ve always believed in something. I never thought that there wasn’t some higher power or deity running the show. I’ve toyed with many theories over the years. I’ve gone through many phases, practicing different religions, discussing and reading up on many more. I never wanted to call myself a Christian, due to bad experiences with people pushing it on me when I was looking for answers. Also, because I was one of those people who didn’t want to follow what most people were doing, because it was what most people were doing. I wanted to be different.

What I stuck with for a long time, was never really a defined “religion” I found in most religions I had read up on, what it boiled down to was being a decent person, to yourself and to others. Helping when you can, taking help when needed and paying it forward. If anyone asked, I said I was Agnostic, claiming, “I believe in something, but I don’t know what it is.” A lot of people are of the opinion that Agnostic is not taking a stand either way. Whichever they define it as; I’ve come to realize that it’s kind of a bullshit, middle ground stance. The point of faith is to actually believe in something. To say “I believe in God, and trust that He is going to guide me through my trials, and welcome me with open arms at the end.”

I’m not claiming that if you are X religion, you’re going to Hell. I think that as long as you live your life as a decent, caring person, God will welcome you into Heaven at the end of your journey. If you go against that, but genuinely ask for forgiveness and live your life the best way you can, He will see that.

I never, ever thought I would call myself a Christian. We weren’t raised in a house where we went to Church or talked about God. My parents both had that pushed onto them, and wanted us to make up our own minds about our own beliefs. The few times I willingly went to church when I was looking for some sort of answer, it was pushed on to me the moment they knew I was just kind of “browsing”. I hated that. One church found out I was never baptized and wanted to do it right then and there. Without my family. Without me having any real knowledge about Christianity besides the basics. I thought it was absolutely absurd. That being forced on me angered me so much, I turned away from it and didn’t look back until years later. Even three months ago, I would have told you I was Agnostic. I’ve always believed that everything happens for a reason, and that someone is designing it all, but I would never say, “It’s God’s plan”.

That all started to change a few months back, with a late night conversation with Mack. He pretty much said, “Being Agnostic is such a pussy ass way out of making a decision”. I wasn’t offended, because I knew he was right. At the same time, I knew what I had molded my faith into was Christianity without the commitment or label.

We were going through a rough time, financially. When I moved down here, I was all but guaranteed a job upon arrival. Once I got down here, however, that job interviewed me and never called me back. I had multiple interviews, with nothing coming of it. Mack was carrying me on what he was barely making ends meet before I came down. It finally reached a point where if I didn’t get hired in the next two weeks, I had to go back to Minnesota. I was terrified of that outcome. Here I am, finally in a normal, loving relationship, and it was about to go back to seeing one another via webcam until we could get enough money together to try again.

So I did something stupid. Instead of treating this as a normal relationship where I could go to him and vent out my stress, I started cutting again. I couldn’t sleep; I was getting physically sick from the stress. I waited until Mack fell asleep, went into another room or outside and cried. I would cry until I couldn’t anymore, and then I would cut until my mind was off my stress and on to my pain. Then I would finally fall asleep. There were nights that I would take sleeping pills, and still be up for more than 24 hours. I was unable to sleep until I had cut. I felt like shit for it. I felt like shit because I was down here, burdening Mack. I didn’t want to go to him and vent, because I somehow felt I didn’t deserve to have the right to. I was scared and depressed and stressed.

Then one night, I went outside to do my thing. I sat and smoked and cried. I leaned against the truck and looked up. Something right then clicked for me. I asked for forgiveness for all the shitty things I’d done. I prayed. To God. Not to some chance higher power. I said I was sorry for putting off the inevitable for all these years. I put my life into His hands. Even when I was so sick I couldn’t eat for days, and in intense pain before my surgery, I was never able to do that. A few days later, I interviewed at my current job, and was hired that day. You can interpret that any way you want, but I feel that God heard me that night.

That night solidified my faith. It wasn’t the fact that I got the job. I prayed for peace and guidance and it was something I received that night. I felt that everything was going to be ok, the second I ended my little “Dear God, it’s me, Emily” moment. I put my life into His hands and He guided me to a solution. It was something I knew then, I am Emily-Christian, but it wasn’t something I mentioned to anyone until writing this.

What brings me to writing this all down is one of the scariest things I’ve ever been through. Mack got really sick two weeks ago. Since then, he’d been having chest pains. He didn’t tell me until three or four days ago. That day, they had gotten so bad while he was working he almost called an ambulance. The next day, it happened again, but worse. It was while he was at work, and it actually dropped him to the ground. He had shooting pains in his arm, and his fingers were numb. His boss took him to the ER, and came to pick me up. The second I opened the door and saw Mack’s boss standing there, I knew what had happened and for a long time, I couldn’t think. I heard Darren talking, but it wasn’t registering that he was speaking to me. He drove me up to the hospital and led me to Mack’s room.

I forgot this blog exsisted.

Seriously, my bad. I know there's a whopping five people who read this, if that- but I still feel kind of bad.

The past few months have been pretty strange. Not strange, really- but lots of highs and lows. Very stressful. I was all but promised a job before I came down here and that fell through within the first few weeks. Since then it's been nothing but apply for a job, have an interview, and never hear another word. I had applied at Kmart, gone to two interviews and had them run me around for a month and a half. I just finally got a job at a motel in town, they called me back the day I interviewed, so that was nice. The second they offered me a job, Kmart called me back. I've also had more phone calls wanting to set up interviews since I started my job, then I have had all month.

So I started the job, and it's going quite nicely. Fairly easy, most of the customers are normal human beings. Not much screaming. They've never hired anyone as young as me, because once I finish training, I will be the only person working and in charge of a 40 room hotel. Yay, responsibility.

So I'm alive, in case anyone was wondering. Incredibly less stressed than I was last week. I'm thinking about writing a little retarded short story and posting it here, but we'll see. I need something to do to be creative because it's driving me insane, not being able to paint.

Finally on a bus!