Expectations

What is it with expectations in this society?
As a student of anthropology, I am convinced it's a part of our culture.
That being said, some of our expectations are messed up.

We hold that certain life events should happen at certain times, E.G.: start kindergarten at age 5, start driving at age 16, graduate college at age 21, be married and start to have children by 30, retire at 65, etc.

What about those who didn't start driving until later in life, like in their 20's? Or those who want a college degree, and have started taking credits, but still haven't graduated by the time they are 35?
Or those like me, who haven't had children by 30 and got married after 30?

I think that having expectations to live a certain way and have boxes that they are always working to check off causes a lot of undue and unnecessary pressure for people in modern American society. The interconnectedness of our social-media-driven world certainly doesn't help -- we can always see what the Joneses (or, to my younger millennials, the Kardashians) are up to, and we feel inadequate in some way if we are not as successful as those that we see elsewhere.

Worst of all, there aren't many messages out there that say that we are perfectly fine NOT fitting into those molds and following those recommended ages for things. The number of messages is growing, but the prevalence and persistence of the opposition are so deeply ingrained that many of us keep hearing a voice inside our heads criticizing ourselves for not getting x, y, and/or z crossed off by a certain age.

Articles that say things like "31 things women over 30 shouldn't wear" or "If you're a woman over 30, you need to stop saying these things" are being churned out so fast and popping up all over social media automatically as they are published (including Pinterest!) and then summarily consumed by people who are accustomed to being told "this is what you're doing by this age" so it's not questioned.

My life hasn't followed any sort of expected path.
Well, lately it hasn't.
I went to kindergarten when I was 5. I finished high school in four years, during which I learned to drive, held my first job, and had my first romantic relationship. (Lettering in academics was not something "expected" of most youths, though it was in my house, and, of course, "good little Becca" didn't let her parents down in that respect.) Right after graduating high school, I went to a four-year institution.
It was then that things got messed up. :)

I didn't get a degree from that institution. In fact, 14 years later I still don't have more than an Associate's Degree, and that I earned five years ago. I dated my now-husband ten years before we got married, and our nuptials were exchanged last November when I was 31 and he was 33. The only child we have is a furbaby. I've had a car repossessed. We live paycheck to paycheck. We rent an apartment and have zero savings.
We are not the poster-children of the ideal American life.

My husband didn't even get his driver's license until he was 23 -- after I taught him how to drive.

But here's something that we have going for us: we are learning to say "fuck 'em" in regards to the people who are apt to speak up and say, "You're over thirty! You should/shouldn't be..."

I have done a lot of self-work on learning to accept that I'm okay and my life isn't a complete even though I'm not living according to what society wants or expects of us.

I've also done a lot of work with learning to not throw in the towel when things aren't perfect, or to accept that I don't have to stress myself out to ensure that everything is perfect.

I'd like to say that I broke free of all this nonsense.

I haven't.
I still have anxiety over worrying that people expect me to always get everything perfect or if they will perceive me negatively. (Some of that has to do with their implicit bias toward overweight, white-perceived women, or my perceptions of what their implicit biases probably are.)

So if you are one of the people who are affected by the stupid, inane expectations that our culture holds, please know that you ARE NOT held to them -- you are doing the best you can. I promise.
If you aren't happy with what/how you're doing, then seek help on changing things up -- but only if it's what YOU want. Don't do it for your mom/husband/neighbor/boss. Change for you and only for you. All that said, you should change only if you want to. If the expectations held FOR you are the same ones that you hold for yourself, then you're good.

There's more I could say on this.
Like how it's women that are mostly affected by this. (Or at least that it's more socially acceptable for women to be held to these expectations. We have expectations about our expectations.)
And how these expectations spill over into what we eat and how we dress.

I'll save those for a later post. This one's already long enough.

Things.

Photography Things

In November, I registered my business as a trade name and set myself up as an SP (sole proprietorship).
When we get our taxes back, I am taking it even further: registering a domain, setting up my dotcom, opening a business checking account, rearranging myself from an SP to an LLC, and a bunch of other business things. I'm not letting it go this time. I'm trying to get the documentary session thing set up, I have a bunch of marketing stuff up my sleeve, and I'm super passionate about it. (I have been, but I'm not in a whirlwind of my own shit right now, so I can actually keep the enthusiasm where it needs to be.)

Other Work Things

My supervisor is hella impressed with the things that I've been doing (I'm doing so much more work than what was laid out in my job description) so she put in for a promotion. We did the work of rewriting my job description and essential duties and figuring out what percentage of time I did what. Then it was off to HR for approval.
The promotion didn't go through.
My supervisor regrouped and formed a new plan: if they won't take a promotion, let's try for a raise. So, same story, different verse: we added a few more essential duties and reworded a few things (our department's HR representative didn't know what a cohort was -- she said it was too department-specific) and submitted a request for a large percentage raise. I just got word last night that it was approved, effective today. (So the raise should be noticeable with my next check!)
I am so grateful and ecstatic for it -- we could sure use the money!

Life Things
As I said, we could use the money.
We had to spend $734 on repairing my car last month. A tune up (new spark plugs! yeah!) and new brakes, rotors, and hardware.

This is straining on anyone, especially when you're living paycheck to paycheck as it is, as we are. (Which is another reason why I'm going to be launching the photography thing with fervor.) Jake's car is going to need new tires soon and mine probably not long to follow. My car will be paid off this year, though, and then we'll have that money left over in the bank!

In the vein of money conversation, our monthly rent went up by $74. I hope that it forces and keeps away those who refuse to clean up after their dogs.

And one of the issues that we're running into here, too, is that some of our neighbors don't want to obey the law. Colorado says that you can smoke marijuana if you are 21+, but the apartment complex receives federal monies and, because of that, they say that you can't smoke it here. (I smell it enough times to know that that rule isn't being followed!)

School is going okay. I still have an A in the class. (It's so easy to get straight A's when you're taking just one class.) There have been a few weeks when I haven't posted on our discussion boards by the due dates -- a few times I forgot, once I didn't want to, and last night I was in and out of the bathroom so much that I didn't get a chance to between everything else. 

But, I'm still plugging along in that respect. I'm absolutely loving my class! I've enrolled for another one in the summer. We'll see how that goes -- summer is one of my busiest seasons at work, and this one will be even busier as my department is moving into a new building in mid-June. 

Torn.

Ladies and gentlemen and occasional readers of my humble thoughtspill on the interwebs: I am torn.

I feel pulled in different directions, and I'm not sure where to go from here. I know what my heart is telling me, and I know what my head is telling me, and it would be so much easier if it were the same message from both of them.

I expect there will be a decision made soon, whether by me or not, and I'll share it with you when it happens.

Thoughts on the New Year + A Cleansing Ritual

Yesterday my thoughts were full of the traditions that we associate with New Year's Day.

Resolutions.
Special meals.

Rituals.

Celebrations.

I thought about how strange it was that we associate the turning of a calendar with making changes. Why is it that we associate change with the starting of new years but not the starting of new months or weeks? Why not days?

My husband's family eats Hoppin' John every New Year's Day as a way to ensure good luck throughout the year. But does it ever really affect change? (Will we ever know? How could we know?)

As I was showering yesterday, I came up with a new tradition that I'd like to instill in my own life, and one that I think is important for everyone to consider adopting into their own lives.

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The First Shower (An exercise in intention, self-love, and acceptance)
The first shower you take in the new year -- be it after you get home from the party, or when you wake up in the morning, or after your first workout...whenever, really -- should be set with intentions.

I'm listing this in the order that my showers go (hair, face, body) but you can change the steps to fit your shower. This isn't so much a way of changing your shower routine as it is adding an extra step of love to your first shower of any year. You don't want to bring any more baggage from last year with you than necessary. The only thing I might suggest is using a clean towel so as to not undo the intentions you set in your shower by using a towel that the negatively-charged body experienced.

As you get your body acclimated to the water temperature, also get your mind acclimated to a new way of thinking. This is what sets the tone for the rest of your shower.

Let the water run over your head (frontways or backways) and onto your skin. This symbolizes that the thoughts that you are about to think during your shower will flow from your head to the rest of your body, as fluidly and completely as the water does.

Wash your hair as you normally would -- don't change the routine. Think of the negative things you thought about your hair the previous year (too short, too long, the wrong color, too staticky, too much gray, too curly, etc.) and visualize those negative thoughts washing away in the water as you rinse the shampoo out. If you use a separate conditioner, then you can repeat the process if you'd like to.

If you wash your face in the shower (I do), wash it as you always do. As you apply the cleanser or scrub, think about all the things that you thought about your face: E.G., too many wrinkles here at the side of my eyes, too many breakouts along my chin, too many blackheads on my nose, too much plucking always needs done frequently here between my eyebrows, etc. Wash those away in the water when you rinse.

As you wash your body in the shower, do something similar with each area as you cleanse it: I.E. areas that you thought were too big, had too much cellulite, weren't big enough, caused you pain and made you hate them, etc.

Dry off as usual. (See my note about the towel from earlier. Makes more sense now, right?)

If you apply lotion or moisturizers, think about the positive things that you think about each area of your body as you apply it. (These are just examples. Use something that works for you and that applies to your life, and feel free to say as much thanks as you want for each area. I've only listed a few, but you could go on and on.)
"Thank you, face, for greeting the world for me each day."
"Thank you, eyes, for lighting up when I'm excited."
(If you are visually-abled, you could say, "Thank you, eyes, for letting me see the beauty of this world / my children's faces / the sunset / [something specific that applies to your life]."
"Thank you, knees, for letting me use you to rest things on." (If you are temporarily mobility-abled, you could say, "Thank you, knees, for climbing the stairs to my apartment / for taking me through the aisles of the grocery store.")
"Thank you, hands, for allowing me to feel the softness of my dog's fur / the warmth of my coffee cup each morning / the comfort of my partner's hand."
Do this for each area that you apply lotion or moisturizer to.

Click here to print this ritual out.

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So what do you think? Is it something you want to incorporate into your life?
And if so, are you going to do it as each year changes, as the calendar months flip, or as each day starts? 

Forgetful.

I cannot believe that I forgot to mention one other thing that I have wanted to be when I grow up!
It's so integral to my childhood, and even influenced some of the classes I took in college.

Writer.
When I was fourteen, I spent the better part of the summer writing a story that ended up being twenty pages long. I printed it out, glued the pages together, and it was something I was so proud of. It was full of love and romance. Before that, as a child, I'd never leave the house without a pen and a pad of paper to write things down on. Even now, I find things all the time that inspire me to include in the epic that I will one day write. (I have a Pinterest board and a tumblr site devoted to such inspirations.) A poem I wrote at the age of twelve made its way into a book. A friend of mine gifted me a set of nice pens and a notebook to use to write down my poems in. I took a junior-level poetry class when I was a freshman. I am seriously kicking myself that I didn't include writer in my first and original list, as integral to my life as writing has been. (And yes, I have seen myself as a published author many times, and I still do. I just lack the discipline to get stuff going.)

Also...
I left off another one.

Crafter.
I've had an Etsy site for a long time. My original intention was to sell handmade cards and bookmarks on there. Now it's evolved into also including photograph prints, felt crafts, and other handmade things. There's nothing for sale on there, currently. I've never had anything for sale on there. I'm not honestly sure what's stopping me. I think it's one of those things that I think I'll do when I have time, but I have yet to make the time. Also having made (and, let's be real, still making) things for my wedding and reception, I have lots of ideas of things to include for sale on my Etsy site. I still don't discount that I will do this someday. Maybe when I'm a stay at home mom. Maybe next summer. The way I  have envisioned it lately is selling as a husband-wife team with Jacob: he'd make things like his foam swords or bits of furniture, and I'd make my stuff, and we'd be a wonderful happy Etsy couple. Or maybe I'd keep Etsy for myself and we'd branch off into Scoutmob for our joint venture. I still don't discount it. Maybe I'll have to wait until we have my family's land for this dream to come to fruition. Jacob would be able to have a shop. I'd be able to have a crafting cottage (and a photo studio!) and we'd be set. The dream of crafter has never been a stand-alone job for me -- it's always been in conjunction with something else.

Oh well.

Who knows what else my brain will remind me of in the coming days that I've forgotten to include on this list, so I may be back. :)

An Ever-Growing List

Last week on Twitter, I posted this tweet

..and then I thought that it might be cool to walk down memory lane and post all of the things that I've ever wanted to be when I grow up.
It's an expansive and ever-growing list.
I'll try to keep it in chronological order, but I make no promises or guarantees that this is the order they occurred in. :)

Police officer.
The earliest recorded history of me indicating this was when I was four and the preschool I went to asked all the kids what they wanted to be. I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I find it interesting that similar careers have been featured later in life. (You'll see, later in the list.)

Teacher.
This has been a recurring career-dream of mine, starting when I was a child. Then, when it came time for me to declare a major for prospective universities, I put down "Secondary Education" and went off to pursue a degree so I could teach both high school English & history. My major became "Elementary Education" when I changed schools a year later. When classes started in August 2009 -- and my third attempt at getting a post-secondary degree, after taking five years off -- I decided that if I were to teach any audience, it would be college students. Even to this day, I know that teaching will somehow be a part of my life, even if it means just homeschooling my children. (I have a Pinterest board with ideas on either how to support my children's education in school or lessons / worksheets to teach them at home.)

Paleontologist / Archaeologist
When I was a kid, I wanted to discover dinosaurs and ancient life so much that I would go and start digging through dirt and brushing things away and looking at rocks of all different sizes, shapes, and patterns. In my youth, I wasn't sure of the difference between paleontology and archaeology, so my youthful brain often used one in place of the other. The release of Jurassic Park only served to fuel this desire -- and Indiana Jones was another movie I'd watch with wide eyes, wanting so bad to be with Indy in the places he saw. Even now, as I'm majoring in anthropology, there is a piece of me that wants to go to Olduvai and assist with digs there, as well as other places around the world. (Some even as close as the southern part of Colorado!)

Geologist.
This was mostly just in line with my paleontology / archaeology dreams - I  knew that certain rocks meant certain things. A certain type of sediment meant that certain types of things might be found there. I was also obsessed with rocks when I was a kid. Like, truly. I'd go for walks and collect rocks. My mom, to this day, has a rock in her kitchen window to remind her of my childhood obsession. My parents even bought me a rock polisher for Christmas (or was it a birthday?) so I could see what was inside rocks.

Rock star.
This one mostly came about after I met and befriended some specific classmates in elementary school. (Most of whom I'm still friends with today.) They introduced me to the New Kids on the Block (oh oh oh-ho-ho, oh oh oh-ho) and we all started dreaming about being in a band. I'd play the keyboard (or, later, the drums) and occasionally back-up the other girls on the singing part. We also had a guitarist. This dream, thankfully, died long ago.

Youth pastor.
When I was in high school, this career choice became part of my "I'd like to be that" list and ceded only to teacher by the time graduation came around. (See, I figured, by graduation, that I'd become a teacher married to a youth pastor.) It was fueled by my renewed participation in church. I was even on my church's Bible Quiz team and became a youth leader in my church.

Chef / Caterer.
I took a foods and catering class during the last semester of my junior year, and I wanted to be a caterer. I'd be a chef that only catered events, and I'd have all of my own tables, table linens, chairs, and other rental equipment -- all personalized by color, of course. I even looked into attending Johnson & Wales University in Denver and fell in love with the campus during a class visit.

Actress.
Though the dream of being a rock star died, the dream of being in the spotlight didn't when I took a drama class in high school and became an understudy for the main part in a play. (I'm so glad that the main person didn't get sick or break her leg -- I never memorized the lines!)

Housewife.
This is another one of those recurring dream-careers. (And yes, I fully consider this to be a career!) I'd be a full-time, stay-at-home wife / mother who would take care of the house and kids and run most of the errands. When my children were old enough to go to school, I'd join a book club and help out at bake sales to keep myself occupied. This, honestly, is what I'd love to be above everything else on this list. I know that it probably won't happen, unless we win the lottery, but hey, a girl's gotta dream, right?

Someone in an office.
Commuting via public transit. Wearing business suits. Preparing that report that's due by 5. Hosting meetings. Running presentations. Getting things scheduled. Working late to meet deadlines. Bringing in coffees for the entire team. Yep -- I dreamed it. I kinda have it. (I don't have to wear business suits, I don't host meetings, and I'm not allowed to work late.)

Navy pilot / Navy chaplain.
After my first year of college, when I came back home that summer, I hooked up with the Navy. I did weekly PTs with them. I womaned their booth at the Greeley Stampede. I read over the STA-21 manual. I was memorizing the Sailors Creed and the 11 General Orders of A Sentry. I got down to needing to lose just fifteen more pounds before I'd be allowed to go to Basic. My plan was to finish my degree, lose those fifteen pounds, and go to Basic as an E-3 (Petty Officer Third Class). At first, I wanted to be a pilot, but my eyesight is bad and so I changed my interest to being a Chaplain. (I could use my then-declared degree of psychology and my aforementioned desire of being a youth pastor.) A few years later, I reached out to the Navy to find out more information about it because I thought about pursuing the USN again, but my thyroid condition had been diagnosed by that point, and the only way they'd take me, the recruiter said, was if I was cleared by a doctor as to no longer needing the medication. So that was out.

Wanderer.
Just leave with a backpack full of things and all the cash I had / have / saved up, and go. I'd work my way from place to place, making enough to pay for a cheap flat and food while saving the rest, only staying between six months to three years in one place. I'd get to see the world (or at least just Europe) that way.

Forensic psychologist.
Look at a crime and tell local authorities the characteristics of the person who committed it. Spend my time interviewing and therapizing criminals. Yep. I wanted to do it!

Crime scene investigator.
Combine my love of science, my love of solving puzzles, and my love of wanting to help people, and you get this perfect career!

An FBI agent.
Basically, see the last two, but on a national level.

A spy.
Seriously - travel the world, sneak into places, and risk my life for national secrets. What kid hasn't wanted to be a spy at some point in their lives?

Photographer.
One of the more recent additions to the list, this one is also a recurring dream. While I do, at the moment, take photographs (and, recently, videos) on the weekends, I frequently find myself wanting to do it full time. Have a crew of cameras at my disposal, a wardrobe for clients to dress in that Sue Bryce would envy, a wonderful studio space with TONS of natural lighting, backgrounds upon backgrounds to choose from, any prop that anyone could want...yes, please, can I have this? There's a huge part of me that would love to also photograph landscapes, and why can't I do both? On a trip to Colorado's eastern plains last year, I was struck by the openness of the land and the weather that met me on that summer's day. I wanted, so badly, to become someone who just photographed weather. Like uproot myself for three months out of the year and just go and photograph weather phenomena.

Cultural anthropologist.
I'm ready to combine my desire of being a wanderer with my love of culture and language. I'm ready to go live in a place for a while, earn the trust of the natives of that place, and learn as much as I can about that place and its people. This can be anywhere from the farming communities in eastern Colorado to the rain forests of Subsaharan Africa.

Event planner.
The most recent career-dream of mine is to be an event planner. I'd plan everything: children's parties, bridal showers, engagements, weddings, retirement parties, funerals. Flowers, linens, invitations, bar menus, themes, favors, items to add to registries...man, I'd do it all. I would become a personal party assistant to people, going to places like Pier 1 and buying a terrarium that would work as a card box for my quirky bride whose theme just fits so perfectly with that. Yes, please! I'm ready to start now. Oh wait -- I need an office. And a warehouse to store all of my wonderful party supplies. And a financier to supply everything. (Start up costs are a bitch.)

Well there you go!

That's most of everything that I've wanted to be when I grow up. (I'm sure I'm forgetting a thing or several.)
There are several of those things on the list that I still want to be when I grow up.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Unpacking.

It's been a while since I've gone deep, and the surface-level posts that I have shared have left a gaping hole where the truth wants to come out.
So, consider yourself warned: this post will start out superficial, and then go deep.
Feel free to leave now if you so choose. :)

I've been finding and falling in love with new music lately. A lot of what has caught my ear has been acoustic, but there has been some alt-rock stuff, too. My love and use of Spotify has helped with that. I have built extensive lists of music for our upcoming wedding, since I need to have three different playlists, and it's been a wonderful resource for finding new artists and music.

My brain has continued thinking about the event-planning course of action that was mentioned a few posts ago. I'm not eliminating it from my list of possibilities -- so much so that I've actually changed the name of my photography business to go along with it remaining as a possibility. That means that I've had to redesign my business logo, and I'm creating a new website to go along with it. (I'll get into that elsewhere, so I'm not going to do that here.)

I have applied for another position on campus, much to my own bittersweetness.
I love my work family. I would miss them, my regular interaction with the students, and the familiarity with what I do there. The thought of starting something new is a bit frightening -- especially since I'm not unhappy where I am.
I think I'm just feeling an overall sense of overwhelm where I am. I'm expected to be a receptionist at a busy front desk AND an administrative assistant without any chance of staying late, coming in early, or working on the weekends. One or the other or a manageable mix of both, but don't give me one-and-three-fourths full-time assignments and expect it to be all done in the time of one without allowing for some leeway and comp time. (FLSA is kicking my butt.)
The position for which I applied is a different classification, meaning that I can work more than forty hours as necessary as the duties dictate. (Something that I would consider a boon in my current position, especially during the months of July and August when so much is happening administratively!) I also wouldn't mind the chance to just do the administrative piece for a while, and step out of the customer-service-centered role (since every job I've ever had has been heavily customer-service oriented). From what I've seen in my three years of experience, it's also a rare thing for administrative assistants to have a chance to move up or advance at the university. The position is for more money than I currently make, too, which is another boon. 

It's been months since I've paid my bills in full.
At the time of writing this, I am currently behind on both credit cards, both student loans, and my phone bill. I think I also still have yet to pay the gas and electric bills for this month. We have a place to live, food to eat, a fed and happy pup, and cars to drive, so I don't feel like a complete failure. 
I hate collection phone calls. I've gotten to the point that I don't even answer the phone unless it's someone I know. Granted, they're probably willing and able to help me figure out a payment plan, but I can't just do that when I'm driving home. I also don't like answering the phone when I'm at work -- which is the case a lot of the time when they call. I hate collection mail. I'm grateful that it only comes for the bills that I get electronically, but I don't like seeing the red PAST DUE stamped across the front. I know and understand that it's that psychology that makes people want to take action and remedy the situation, which is precisely why companies use the PAST DUE as they do. And it's not that I don't want to pay the bills -- I desperately, so desperately -- want to. We've just had a lot of expensive, unexpected events happen since we've moved in, and we haven't been able to really keep our heads above water. 
We are just another sad American statistic about being one of the commonly-found households that couldn't financially survive a fiscally-catastrophic event. We have no savings. We have nothing liquid that would support us if one of us got laid off or injured and unable to work. We're living in an apartment that neither of us could even afford on our own. Combined, we don't even make the median household income of the city we live in, but we make too much to qualify for aid. (How does that work?)

Because of all this work and financial stress, I've been neglecting myself.
I just started a skincare routine again last week. (After not sticking to one for a month because my TimeWise cleanser from MaryKay ran out, and, in the face of all the financial stuff going on, I didn't feel like spending $20 on my face.) I'm using Aveeno Absolutely Ageless cleanser, and I had to give it a few days to know what to truly expect, but I like it. I still have lots of my other TimeWise accouterments, including the moisturizer and the day and night creams, so I have been supplementing the Aveeno cleanser with those, and they all seem to play nicely together. (Since allegations came out earlier this year about MaryKay and animal testing, I will not be replacing my current supply once it's gone and will probably transition to the complete line of Absolutely Ageless for my facial skincare needs.)
I have not been eating right or exercising, and my weight is nearly back up to where it was when I started the weight loss program that I've been doing. I figured that the weddings I shot last month counted as my exercise for the day, but then it became super-busy at work AND I had to cull and compress the images for client proofing, so I was (a) exhausted and (b) sitting a lot more when I got home. Of course, being tired prevented us from cooking at home more (a goal I've had for a long time) and choices were not always health ones. My body can tell that we haven't been active -- my legs hurt and my back is stiff.
Add in a nice batch of guilt for feeling like I should be doing some housework or working on some of our remaining wedding crafts when I have "free time" (like even now, for an example) and there's a nice big batch of "yep, that thirty-minute cardio and subsequent twenty-minute shower is not going to happen." All of this has also increased my stress-eating, something I didn't even really recognize was as pervasive in myself as it is until about four months ago. (So there have been quite a few trips to the vending machine at the end of the hallway for chocolate.)

I want to say that I'll get better now that this is all of my chest. That I'll start exercising twice a day, every day (which is what I need to do to feel like I did everything I could to get healthy come November 5) and that I'll suddenly get a grip on my finances and my time-management so I'll be able to do everything and the Renaissance woman I idealize myself being in my head. My apartment will always be immaculate and my refrigerator will always be full of prepped meals ready to go for the next two days. I will always have weight-loss shakes for breakfast, salads for lunch, and fruits for snacks.

For those who may not know, I've been on antidepressants for over a year. It's led me to feeling like a robot, time and time again.
While I don't feel the negative emotions as strongly as I once did, I also don't feel positive emotions much at all. My current "happy" or "content" is what was once a solid line in the middle of my emotional graph. It's like I don't feel anything unless it's a negative emotion or a primal one (fear).
I've also been seeing a therapist regularly over the last year. He's helping me deal with my anxiety, sense of low-worth, depression, and suicidality. He's trying to change the way that I talk to myself -- using caring, compassionate language instead of language that isn't very nice or loving. There are a lot of things that we need to unpack, because there are a lot of things I've been carrying for far too long. And some of those things that I've been carrying have morphed into something else and ingratiated themselves into my life in ways that are twisted and Stockholmsian, so we really have our work cut out for us.
I know things will get better.
They have to, right?

Things.

In mid-December, I was diagnosed with diabetes. Hooray.
I started taking the two medications that the doctor gave me, like a good girl, two pills at breakfast and a third at dinner. Every afternoon, like clockwork, between 2:30 and 3:00, my blood sugar would plummet and I would need something to eat -- fast. It didn't matter that I had already eaten lunch at 11:00 or 12:00. So, naturally, I stopped taking the medication, and then made an appointment to go back in and see him.

We're trying something new with the medication now, where I'm taking one of the original medications at breakfast and then again at dinner time with plans to increase that same medication to two pills at each bookend meal of the day.

I've been doing a lifestyle change with a program called Real Appeal through my insurance. I'd call it a diet, but it's really more than just changing how you're eating. It's also teaching you how to eat, what to eat, and what kinds of exercise you should be doing. The Success Kit came with a food scale, a Magic Bullet-like blender, a stretchy exercise band, a scale, measuring cups and spoons, a set of exercise DVDs, a portion plate, and a recipe book. There's an online class every week that lasts for thirty minutes. There's also a place on the website where each of the members logs his or her weight, exercise, and food every day. (Well, ok, the weight thing is once a week at least.)

This program, at its basic level, is very similar to the other two programs that I did, one through my insurance last year and one through the university for the six weeks before that. This program, though, came with all kinds of things to help you be successful. Where the previous program had the class every week and included a lot of the same material, this program came with a set of exercise DVDs and a recipe book. Those two things right there are huge when you're going down this path. Instead of just hearing your coach say, "You need to log in at least thirty minutes of work this week," you have something that you can go do -- you have the tools in front of you. There's even a workout schedule that is completely optional to follow, and the suggested meal plans are customizable. I feel that if I can keep on this program, I will be successful.

That's the problem though: keeping on the program.

I followed it great for two or so weeks, and then fell off the wagon and didn't do any extra exercise for three weeks...or was it four? All I know is, I'm supposed to be doing Cardio 2. This morning, when I decided to get back on the wagon, I put in Cardio 1 just to get my feet wet, and the tap-out jacks were killer on my arms. I was very glad that the same two exercises that I've had to modify in the past (jump ropes and jogging in place) were the same two that I had to modify today, and that I didn't have to modify any additional exercises. I didn't leave this morning's workout the most sweaty that I've left it before, but I also don't think I was pushing myself as hard as I could. The meal plans have never been something I could follow, but logging my food is super easy. (I had to do that with my previous program and getting back in the habit was easy.) The recipes that we've tried out of the book (namely the Baked BBQ Chicken and the Chocolate Pudding [made with silken tofu]) have been really delicious.

The real reason that I'd stopped exercising was that I was having a bout of depression. That nasty little beast likes to rear its fugly head in my life every now and then. The great news is that my weight didn't go up or down much more than its regular yo-yo pattern during that bout. I'm not sure what pulled me out of it, but I did set up an inspiration board in two places in the apartment so I can be reminded of why I'm doing this. These boards include inspirational quotes and photos of children, since getting healthy to be a healthy mom for my future children is a big reason why I'm doing this.

"What -- not your wedding?"

Losing weight will be a bonus for my wedding, but it's not the main reason that I have for losing weight. Sure, I don't want my arms to be bulks of jiggle that day, but it just seems like losing weight for my wedding is a selfish reason, and my innermost Self is Others motivated -- so: kiddos.

I don't know why this was the story that I wanted to share with you after nearly three months of silence, but it is. When I was thinking about it the other day, I felt like I should share it with readers of my blog. Who knows -- maybe it will help someone.

BTW: I have a wedding blog, too. I've got several posts in queue, but not many posts as of yet. Don't worry -- more are coming. If you care to follow it or peruse it, just click here and you'll be taken there. :)

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

Your eyes are not deceiving you: a second post from me in as many days. Huzzah! 

I've decided to queue up some posts that have been rambling around in my  head just so they are out and not distracting me from other things that are going on. And, that way, it looks like I'm updating this more frequently. :)

(Never mind the fact that I'm just sitting here typing away as another method of ignoring my schoolwork, while my honey is cooking delicious Chik'n Parm.)

This month, we are collectively spending figuring out what all we need to do to be healthy. We're researching different methods that will help us in weight loss and eating correctly, and we'll be taking all the appropriate baseline measurements so we can track any and all progress that we make.

We're starting with yoga (which I think I mentioned a few posts back...and yes, it really has taken us this long to get around to the yoga thing) and watching what we eat. I'd like to add in some dance sessions at a fitness studio, and I think it would be good for him to add in something besides just yoga and dieting as well. 

It was going to be just me at first, but he decided that he wasn't going to let me go through it all by myself, so we'll be getting healthy together. I just hope he's up to the task of keeping me on track, or at least motivating me to keep myself on track. 

I'd like to explore other ways of getting ourselves in order, too, like a financial fitness routine and whatnot.

...so why are we doing this? Is it just to get healthy and be more well?
Well, maybe. There could also be another reason, or two, why we're getting healthy.
If there were, I couldn't say anything about it. Not here. Not right now.

Just know that we're working on working out, and if you have any tips, feel free to leave a comment, as I'd be glad to read about them.

Six.

Here it is: the halfway mark. Six months from today my lease is up.
That means that I've been here for a little over six months. (It was six months yesterday.)

Let's recap:

• I realized that I only wash my face in the shower, and that's with an exfoliant. So early last month I bought pre-moistened wipes to make it as easy as possible for my lazy ass between showers. I think I've used three at most. 
• I have a shampoo-conditioner combo in the shower (to save time) but I also have an expensive conditioner that I bought specifically to use just on the ends of my hair. 
• I've been sleeping with the veranda light on because my imagination is too vivid.
• I'm currently boiling water to cook ravioli in because I'm not feeling a complicated meal right now. Or the five-day-old leftovers of broccoli-pesto spaghetti.
• I haven't been to a doctor in nine months. I'm only going this Thursday because they need to check my TSH levels. After the requisite copays for that appointment, I will have 43c left to my name. 
• My body, despite being 273.2 lbs, is malnourished. I'm supposed to "feed the body I have not the body I want," but I still come up with a six-to-seven hundred calorie deficit each day. Unless I eat only half a medium pizza and 14 chicken wings in one day like I did this weekend.
• Bailey came up to me today and I ignored her, only to find out that she just wanted to play, as evidenced by the noises I heard coming from the bedroom a few moments later of her tearing up a paper towel tubie.

I have tried so hard in the last six months to ignite my own American Dream. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, living on my own. I knew there would be things I'd need to face that I didn't want to face alone. I try to justify my shortcomings by telling myself that it's acceptable, the way I'm living now, because I am doing this on my own. That it's okay that there's been an empty water glass in front of the television for four days, and it's okay that there are still recyclables by the sink that need to be rinsed out, and that my magazine stack is getting unstable as it breaches twelve inches high.

I thought, foolishly, that I could survive on $400 a month (for cable, internet, food, dog supplies, gas, and miscellany) and still have a portion of it left for saving. 

The time has come for me to start packing, if only figuratively: I'm looking at the horizon and I see another ship -- this one called Cohabitation. My dreams are tainted, though, looking through the glass of the example I have to follow. During the Five Year Conversation, Jake and I made the goals of getting married, welcoming children into our lives, and becoming homeowners within the next five years. I should only count myself lucky to still be alive within five years from now. 

I try to tell myself, in the moments that sunshine pierces the clouds, "So what if you don't have [something that the Johnsons have] or [something that society tells you you should have]? You're alive. You have food in the larder, a fed dog that adores you,  and 400 square feet that you don't have to share with another human being if you don't choose to. So what if your kitchen is the size of a closet and you're basically paying $2 per square foot? You have an apartment, you're paying for it, and the heat is working."
It doesn't work.

I eventually accept that, while I'm doing this all on my own, it sucks.

I have realized that I need contact with people outside of my job because otherwise I spend too much time in my head. And on Pinterest, building a life I'll never have.
Oh, sure, I'm pretty certain that Jake and I will move in together. And I'm sure we'll forge through. I'm sure we'll never go hungry. But isn't life more than that? Isn't it? Or am I too tainted by the idea of a picket fence, 2.5 children, and a kitchen the size of my current apartment? 

We'll have memories, and laughter, but will we ever host Thanksgiving at our house? Will we ever have friends over to our apartment for a dinner-and-game night? Will we ever have the bittersweet, frustrating joy of picking out paint colors? I'm not so sure that my dreams will come true, or that our Five Year Plan will bear fruit.

Honestly, what it comes down to is this: 

I started this year out with vigor and excitement with the adventure I was embarking on.

I have met the middle of said year fully accepting that I have social anxiety and depression (both of which I knew I had BEFORE I moved in but I had no idea to the depths those two were affecting me). 

I look forward to ending this year with the promise that I won't be alone and things will get better.

Food, Babies, and Christmas **UPDATED**

How many of you thought that said "food babies"? I did when I re-read it! Ha! :)

After four weeks in my Mindful Eating Class, I am constantly thinking about food. Honestly, I was doing so before the class started, when I began hoarding vegetarian recipes (something I'm still doing, let's be honest), but now I'm thinking in terms of balancing whole grains, fats, and proteins. I have measured out my yogurt and various fruits this week, which is a little weird to say so matter-of-factly. I say, "Hmm, for breakfast, should I have Chex with milk, or should I have a fruit, yogurt, and granola parfait? Which would provide more nutrition for me today, based on what I plan on eating throughout the day?"

So how goes the vegetarian thing? Great! Most days I eat at least two meals containing zero meat. (Aided by the purchase of a fantastic vegetarian cookbook for $3.99 at Tradesmart a few weeks ago.) There are lots of beans and chickpeas in my diet right now. I've recently fallen in love with butternut squash, though the peeling bit is a pain in the ass. I just bought my first package of tofu. I do, however, still have meat in my food supply. My boyfriend is visiting this weekend, and I took out the final package of pork chops out to thaw. That leaves some salad shrimp, some chicken strips, some ground turkey, and maybe one or two other things in my freezer. But that's it. I can knock those out pretty quickly, and then be full-on veg.

If I am full-on veg by the time Thanksgiving and/or Christmas rolls around, I'll bring my own main dish to family meals. That way, no one has to make any special accommodations for me. I wouldn't want them to.

Thanksgiving and Christmas: things that make people think of family, which brings me to my next topic today: babies. ("Struggling for a segue way?" you ask. Always!)
One of the counselors at work delivered her twins on Tuesday. Luca and Laney -- awesome names! One of my friends is celebrating her daughter's seventh birthday later this month and then a second birthday for her youngest daughter in December. In February, another friend's son will turn two, and she and her husband are actively trying to conceive a second child. Two of our accounting ladies are in various stages of coming back from maternity leave. There are babies everywhere.

I am still undecided if I want to have children of my own or not. My boyfriend and I have talked about adoption, and all portends indicate that we are both on board with that. I don't know why I'm so undecided about bearing children. Maybe the fact that I've been able to have children for two out of my three decades, and I feel that I'm running out of time / quality eggs? That definitely plays a part in it. Plus, hearing about all the complications and stuff that can happen to women and the babies doesn't sway me in the direction of "Yes, I want to!" The direction we're leaning right now is to get our lives in a state where we'd be comfortable bringing children into, opening our home and hearts to adoptive children, and if we have children of our own genes, then so be it.

I definitely want to have my children foster a love of learning. (Honestly, what parent doesn't want that for their children?) In days past, I wanted to be a teacher. There's a small part of me that still wants that. No matter what happens, I want to get my kids on the path of learning early. (Shoot, I was reading third-grade level books when I was in kindergarten! I want my kids to be that way, too.) I never want to school to feel like a chore for them. I mention this because I've been pinning a lot of educational stuff to my Parentage board on Pinterest, along with a bunch of other stuff that I want to remember when I'm a parent. I'm torn if I want them to be homeschooled or if I want them to go to public school. (Honestly, that will all depend on where we live when we have children and what our lives are like at that point.) I'm sure this sounds pretty ridiculous to some readers -- talking and planning for things that haven't happened yet -- but I'm the kind of person whose visions of the future need some sort of outlet, and Pinterest is it for me.  :)

Of course, that could all change as time goes on. But that's the beauty of life: you can always change your game plan as necessary. I wish that concept was something that more people had peace with.

Ah, peace. The season of peace is soon to be here, y'all: Christmas. (I know, I was struggling for a segue way again. At least we made it back around to Christmas. I could change the title around, to make it easier and allow me to introduce the Christmas thing back when I was talking about vegetarianism at family holidays, but then I wouldn't have the title that may allow someone to read "food babies and Christmas." Yes, this is my thought pattern. Welcome to my life. Feel free to stop reading now if you find my life annoying.)

This year, despite both my partner and I having jobs, most of the gifts we give will be homemade. I'll give the traditional apple butter, yes, and I've been thinking of expanding into other fruit and cucurbita butters. There will be other gifts in the ensemble and they will also be practical, usable, homemade gifts. This can be attributed to my more-completely manifested hippie-dom or the fact that most of the people we'll be buying gifts for are able to get themselves the gadgets and e-goodies that they want. We'll be giving them pieces of ourselves and our time -- more valuable than any Blu-Ray! I think that most of where the homemade motivation comes from is that what people really need is not the latest e-gadget, which will be used and ultimately discarded, but something thoughtful. Something that someone took time out of their lives to think about, plan out, and create. (Ok, that feeds into my hippie-dom.) A lot of it, too, is that I enjoy making stuff for people. I'll be doing my traditional Christmas cards, but that never feels like enough. Like, "Here's this card I made for you alongside this bright and shiny boxed-and-styrofoamed thing that I found on a shelf in the store." I much prefer the idea of "Here's this card I made for you, and this jar of fruit butter I made for your weekend gipfeli, and this other thing I made for you when you do that thing you love doing, and this other thing I made for you..." Doesn't that sound so much better??

I just know that if I were mostly giving commercially-produced gifts this year, I would regret it. If the people who are gifting to me would feel the same way (or do feel the same way, should any of them be reading this) I wouldn't want them to do something they'd regret. (That goes for ever, not just in gift-giving.)

Suffer the Clutter -- Enjoy the Silence

Happy Memorial Day!

To any military members or family members of military folks who may be reading this, thank you for every sacrifice you've made for the good of the American people.

Since it's Memorial Day, I'm finally able to catch my breath for a second and share some observations and thoughts about my new apartment.

Bailey and I have been living here for over a week now. She has a dedicated food & water spot, but her bed still travels between inside and outside. There are still boxes in the living room. I haven't reupholstered the second dining chair. The dining table is being utilized as a makeshift desk for the time being, as the desk is housing clothes on top and linens underneath until I can acquire the closet organizing system that I want to so I can get everything in its proper place. There is more stuff in my storage unit than I planned on, but some of the stuff I have in there is for my grandmother, when she finally gets to go back into her house. (She's still displaced from the flooding last September.)

The layout of the apartment was a bit different than I expected. The closet that looked like a pantry on the diagram I was given is actually a coat closet. (I'm sure if necessary, I could turn it into a pantry, but for now it's working good as a coat closet, because it's also housing my vacuum and my Swiffer.) My kitchen is also smaller than I was expecting -- I've only got about 3' of counter space, and I have to use my stove top as the place where my dishes dry. The bedroom is a bit bigger than I was expecting -- a queen-sized bed fits just fine in there leaving plenty of room to walk around it, too. The closet in the bedroom is also bigger than I was expecting -- it's got storage space up to the ceiling and the workable space is bigger than the closet I had at home. There are lilacs off my patio, and when the wind blows just right I can smell them. The view from my patio is a house with a huge, country-like backyard, so it feels very familiar. I like to eat breakfast out there on mornings I don't have to rush to the office.

The most immediate and pressing concern is Bailey. At my parents' house, I would leave for work and she'd go into my parents' room and go to bed. They'd be there all day, or most of the day, and when they'd leave she'd be familiar with the place and / or have Pacer there to keep her company. Here, in our apartment, she's faced with different circumstances. I am her only company, and the place is still so unknown to her that when I leave she freaks out. My boss gifted to me a Thundershirt to put on Bailey for when I leave, but it doesn't seem to help. Even the Thunderspray doesn't seem to help -- she whines, then yips, then barks, every time I leave. We go for a 15-20 minute walk around a park every morning and every evening, but it doesn't seem to be helping. (She even defecates between my morning departure and my lunchtime return, and I've started leaving newspapers and waterproof pads down.) I'm going to try to find a television station that plays Westerns because Bailey used to watch them with my parents. Thankfully, I have not received a phone call from the apartment managers, so my neighbors haven't complained to them, but that doesn't mean they aren't complaining. Yesterday, one of my neighbors -- the only one, in fact, who has thus far introduced herself --  told me that Bailey was barking the night before, when I stepped out for dinner with Jake and his mother. She'll yip and whine when I leave, and if she gets quiet at all, she'll bark when she hears one of my neighbors open / close their door, or when she hears a motor out front of the building, so it's hard to pinpoint the motive of her barking if it happens after I leave. I'm considering getting her a bark collar, but I don't know if it would help or not. I definitely don't want it deterring her from barking at all -- if someone knocks on the door, or someone comes in uninvited, I want her to bark. She sometimes barks at me or other dogs during playtime -- Berners are very vocal -- but I don't want her barking without a reason.
I'm sure that Bailey will eventually get over her separation anxiety. She had it pretty bad at home, too, before she got used to the place. It's just going to require patience on my part and the parts of my neighbors. (We've only been here a week. I've only left her four times in that week: once to do laundry, twice for work, and once for dinner.) I know that it's just going to take time, but there are a lot of people who could be missing out on sleep or peace before that time comes. The Thundershirt does help with her social anxiety and general anxiety -- I put it on her a few times when we'd go for walks or to check the mail, and now she doesn't bark at every person she sees. (Just when they're in the vicinity of the building.) I'd also put her Thundershirt on her when the neighbors would get kind of loud -- like coming-home times, or cleaning times. I'd accompany those with a "no" when she'd start to bark at them. I wish I could do the same for her when she yips / barks when I'm not home, but that's not possible. I just don't think there's much more that I can do than I've already done -- the work is now hers. Like a Licensed Clinical Psychologist, I can provide tools and go through exemplary motions to help someone out of a stressful situation, but I cannot actually do the work for that person -- they have to do it themselves.

I've also been struggling with my perfectionism -- I wanted the boxes unpacked and everything in its place before I went back to work. (HA!)
Yes, logically, it would have made my life so much easier if everything was out of the boxes and in its permanent living space before the craziness of my work schedule kicked back in, but that didn't happen. And it still hasn't happened. And it's frustrating. And it's hard to find motivation to fix it -- after all, I am the only one seeing it, so who cares? If it doesn't get done, I'm the only one who has to suffer the clutter. My fireplace is still besmirched with boxes. The little enclave where I was going to put Bailey's bed still has boxes in it. But, I need some shelves in my living room. Perhaps I can fix that this weekend.

Anyway, I need to take Bae out again and get back to Wedditing.
I'll share photos of the apartment once it gets closer to being finished.

Heartbroken Life

I was thinking today of what needs to be done around here.

We need a hot water heater.
My dad's car needs fixed.
My mom's car hasn't had a payment made for two months.

I also have some personal health things that need attention: chiropractor, dentist visit, eye exam, and a massage. (That last one is not as much a luxury as it is a necessity. Promise.)

If I didn't have a refund coming from my income taxes, there would be no way that any of these could happen, and that sucks. It's been that way for so long. It's getting really old.
I am really getting sick of bad news and having to struggle and scrimp and claw and fight for everything.

I guess, really, as long as I have a house and food and something to keep me warm, I shouldn't complain. My basic needs would be met, right? What else could I need?

(Some savings would be nice.)

One Week In

So here it is, folks: your first full week of 2013. How's the new year treating you so far?

So far, for me, I have had the flu! Wonderful, right?
The aches haven't been too bad, it's been the weakness, the sleepiness, the cough and the stomach stuff that has worn me down.
I'm sure that working for five straight days --and attempting a sixth-- didn't really help with any of that either.
I think the flu shot I got at work helped to keep it scaled back, too; I've heard some people say that this year it's been keeping people that they know down for three weeks. (And not just the more susceptible population, though I think it depends on what strain you catch.)

As of the date of posting, I think I am better, though.
The only symptom I continue to have is a potential side effect from the antibiotic I've been on for The Cough That Won't Die.

I am thinking of changing my hair somehow. It's getting to be a bit too much to handle.
Maybe trim a few inches off, add in some choppy, long bangs. Maybe. The trim, yes, definitely going to happen, but the bangs...I don't know. There's something really rewarding in having hair all the same length.

I would love to get a manicure done at some point this year.
There: a goal. Grow my nails long enough to get a manicure. They were long for quite a while last year, but a mani was never a priority. This year, it is a priority. As a treat to myself.

Being cooped up inside for the last few days because of my required recuperation time has made me really want to start spring cleaning already.
And the light has reminded me of spring lately, too, so my annual wont of wanting spring to come early has kicked in already.

My love will be here tomorrow. =)
Thursday is his dad's birthday as well as a job interview (!) in Greeley.
Then that night we head to Denver because on Friday we are going to the Van Gogh exhibit at the Denver Art Museum. Saturday I return to work for the first time since The Incident, so I'm going find out how easy public vomiting is to live down.

Some Other Beginning's End

This year has been interesting.

I know at the close of my last post I called this year "trying" and, while that's not untrue, there can be no denying that there was good mixed with the bad.

Normally, I make a synoptic post of everything that has happened in the last year and then round out the post by making a list of things that I want to accomplish in the coming year.

This year is different.
This year feels different.

I don't know what it is.
If it's living with my parents again, or if it's being apart from my boyfriend for the last ten months, or what, but this year everything just kinda fell apart.
Halloween wasn't Halloween. Thanksgiving wasn't Thanksgiving. Christmas wasn't Christmas. And New Year's isn't New Year's. It's like I knew these dates were coming, but it wasn't anything super special. It didn't strike me or feel like it or anything. I don't know what it was.

I am not making my list of resolutions because there isn't really any one specific thing that I want to accomplish, and everything I could possibly write down just boils down to "live the best life possible."

I do want to write down everything good that happens this year and put those little notes into a jar, and then read them next NYE. (Thank you, Pinterest, for this brilliant idea!)

Like any New Year's party pooper, I'm off to bed.
The real world will need me to be a cashier at 8 in the morning.

Oh, and about that?
Looks like I'm gonna be at Target a bit longer.

So at least I'm starting 2013 off with a job.
It's already better than 2012. =)

Beginning.

I, officially, have one more week of summer vacation.

No, that doesn't mean I'm enrolling in school again.

Instead, I was offered, and accepted, a position at a local company.
It's a full-time, "grown-up" job, replete with health benefits, 401(k), and PTO.
(And here I was prepared to steal a position from a high schooler at a fast food joint!)

I have four weeks of training starting on August 13th, followed by a two-week period known as "nesting." Then I will be able to bid for the schedule I want.

It is going to be so nice to have income again. And health benefits. (...though I did just renew my non-insurance discount health card.)

I can start to pay my student loans again. (And avoid those damnable collection calls!)
I can start to pay the phone bill. (Huzzah!)
I can start to SAVE SOME MONEY. (That's a biggie. I have goals, after all!)
I can stop worrying about what I would do if something unexpected happened to Bailey.

Speaking of Bailey, she has been in my life for five months today: it was March 4th that I brought her little fuzzy butt home. Nothing has been the same since. (And I wouldn't have it any other way.)
We had to make an unexpected vet visit today. One of her internal sutures from her spay is still sticking out and she's been acting like the site is sore. (She doesn't like me looking at it when I pet her belly.) The vet confirmed that everything is fine, though, and advised to 'just keep an eye on it.'
Little Miss Fuzzy now weighs 39 lbs, but the vet said that at seven months old, she is over halfway done with her growing. She should add on only a few more inches (up to 4) to her height but now comes the time when she puts on muscle. That's a little frightening, considering that she can already pull me pretty successfully when she sets her mind on something while we're out walking.

...now just to get Jacob employed...

Homecoming.

Well, Bailey and I are back at home, after one rollercoaster of a week in Denver.

One of the problems with being me is that I can see both sides of an issue, and therefore I have a hard time convincing myself that what people say to me is really, truly all they want to say. It may well be related to feeling more than one emotion at a time, or it might have to do with living in my parents' house since February. (My parents' general attitudes is, summarily, that everyone in the world is out to shit on them, and they always see the bad in people before the good. More on that later.)
This comes into play because Bailey had some accidents while she was at my boyfriend's aunt's house, and she also showed signs of suffering from separation anxiety, much to the chagrin and dismay of all the house's occupants.
My boyfriend's aunt, uncle, and cousin all showed remarkable propriety in the matter, brushing it off as "well, she needs to learn" and "she's still just a puppy." I think the truth lies heavily on this one: "A week was probably just too long for her first trip away from home." At least she didn't chew on anything that she wasn't supposed to or come into heat while we were there. (And I'm certainly thankful that 95% of her bathroom needs were taken care of outside. I wish it were more, but the past cannot be erased.)
While my auntish, uncle-ish, and cousinish all seemed to be understanding about everything, I can't help but feel that they wanted to admonish me or that they are hiding the true way that they felt (and feel). I mean, it wasn't that horrible of a trip. Like I said, Bailey didn't chew on everything --all the pillows were still in tact and there were no teeth marks on any furniture when we left-- and she didn't piddle or poo in the floor all the time. It was a matter of restricting the space available to her via baby gates and my boyfriend and I restricting the amount of time we were away from the house. (That little girl can yip, and with an octave or so range of vocal movement!)

All of that aside, I am glad that I got to see my boyfriend and spend some time with him. I am glad that I got to explore some new parts of Denver. I am glad that my boyfriend was able to log some quality time with Bailey.

I do not, however, feel more relaxed. I was, apparently, more relaxed than I would have been at home, because I've been home for nine hours and already I am more tense than I have been in a week.

My mother never did greet me when I came home. She took one look at Bailey and said, "She looks skinny." (She's been eating a bowlful of food, twice a day, every day, for the last seven days, as well as getting a Dentastix and a puppy Milkbone once a day and a couple pieces of table scraps after dinner.)
My father has aptly displayed his inability to pay attention during a conversation on more than one occasion.
One of the first things that happened is they took offense to the fact that my boyfriend was out buying pizza when they got home. "What -- the leftovers aren't good enough?" I explained that he was buying the pizza at my behest, since I've had a jonesing for it all week. That quickly made them drop it.
There are some arguments in the family that loop and are continually self-feeding. The largest one I can think of is anything that deals with my uncle. Why doesn't he do more to help at his mother's house? | He wants a ride to church anywhere? Charge him gas money. | Etc etc ad infinitum. The Uncle Issue came up again tonight. I can't even have one day's peace in this house without hearing about it.

I am, honestly, wondering what the hell I'm going to do.
People asked me last weekend at my graduation barbecue what I was going to do. Well, in response to that, I have applied at State Farm to be a Claims Processor. I figure that it will be an easily transferable job, whenever the opportunity presents itself.
I was asked at dinner on Thursday if I have filled out my application for Metro State [College of Denver] yet, since that's where I intend[ed] on going to get my Bachelor's degree. It's not due until June, so I have not filled it out yet, but another problem arises there, too: what if I do fill it out and get accepted to start attending classes in August? Even if MSCD were a residential college, I'd be too old to live on campus, so where would I stay? How would I afford an apartment? I don't even have a car to take to Denver with me. (The one I drive now is my mother's car, which might be surrendered soon since her seasonal job is almost over and we have no other way to afford the monthly payments.)

And (!) the subject of my grandmother's ever-increasing need for long-term care was brought up again tonight. My uncle doesn't work. (I have talked of this bit before, but I will repeat it for a refresher.) He is my grandmother's favorite offspring: always has been, always will be. Every morning he takes her newspaper in to her and has a cup or two of coffee with her, goes over his day, and then leaves. The care of her breakfast (and other meals), housework, and yardwork all fall on her own shoulders, for as much as she can handle. And let me say, for an 80 year old woman with macular degeneration and a bad back, that isn't much. What about my mom? My mom -- the independent, youngest child of three -- is the only other surviving offspring my grandmother has. Mom currently works, but her seasonal job ends on Thursday. She tries to go over every day and spend time with my grandma, but that doesn't always happen: some days she is reduced only to talking on the phone. My father, by the way, is not supportive of this and believes that my mother should be here, attending to the needs of her own house and that my uncle should be at my grandmother's house, taking care of his mother. The last few months, my grandmother's mental faculties have declined. She's remembering less and less, and having minor hallucinations more and more. Mom was going around the house fretting, to herself, this evening about how grandma's going to need full-time care, and soon, and where would that leave her? Some readers may recall from a few weeks ago that I said, in a burst of emotive frustration, that I was the only answer to anything being done about it. My uncle won't do it: he's got too much of a social life. My mother can't do it: she needs to work to keep the bills floating along. And me? I'm done with school now, with no real sense of purpose or direction, so it makes, sense, right? Except I've been slowly stepping away from that role since October to prepare my uncle and my mom for this...except I have a puppy now...except what if Denver suddenly becomes viable and I'm in the middle of living with grandma... Government aid, by the way, is not an option, and she refuses to go into an assisted living or a nursing home. (The latter of which she is nowhere near physically ready for anyway.) I feel as though living with gran is the direction that people are pushing me to go, but they don't want to come right out and say it. They'd rather hee and haw around the bush, and say, "No, that wouldn't be fair to you" than actually sigh with relief and say, "Finally! She got it!"

This may sound heartless, but I just don't want to deal with any of this, at this proximity, anymore. I don't want the drama and the bitterness. It's permeating my life, and my soul. My boyfriend told me that his aunt's house is so full of love, and while I saw it and experienced it over the last week, I have been so marred over the last few months that I could not feel it. I could not feel anything but differing degrees of guilt, responsibility, and regret, in many different areas. It's been that way for a while now. I can't pinpoint exactly how long, but I think I have been depressed for a while --honestly, Bailey saved my life one afternoon a few weeks ago-- but this dead space inside kinda confirms it. The bad feelings are easily felt, and I can laugh, but happiness, contentment, joy -- these are fleeting.
If I go to work, my energy level will drop to a zero or lower; it's already dangerously low. (Hooray for a messed up hormone system! Hooray for a messed up metabolism because the hormones are out of whack! Yippee!) Having no energy when coming home from work is a bad thing when a puppy needs walked and played with. Couple that with the desired end-result of moving, and packing throws the energy deficit further into the red.
If I don't go to work, what the hell else would I do? Read? Yeah, that's gonna pay for the $17 puppy kibble bags. My friend and I are nearing the final stages of launching our wedding photography business, and hopefully we'll book more weddings and events over the next few months.
But, if I were to forego looking for work and move in with my grandma in work's stead, what would happen? How long would I be living there? Until her Alzheimer's gets to the point that she cannot care for herself any  longer, or until she dies? And then what? If the house is willed to go my uncle, but I'm living there at the time of gran's passing, would he be understanding and give me time to find alternate housing or would he do what he did when he came back from jail and claim what's rightfully his at such a time as he so declares? I do agree, however, that it would not be fair to me. See, my mother lived with her grandmother when requisite time came, and she stayed til the end. My mother, however, was 16 at the time, still in high school, with no real future waiting on the line. I am going to be 27 in a few weeks, a Spring 2012 college graduate, with a future waiting for me to grasp it. I could have a place of my own and re-develop some self pride.
Or with any luck my boyfriend has filled out an application to a job that wants to hire him so bad the manager is salivating at the thought of paying him $2000 a month.

I hate to say it, but given my boyfriend's track record, I don't hold out much hope for that last one, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to just face this decision head on.

Seriously, I hate my life right now.
At least the drain problem was fixed while I was gone, so I can shower now without having water standing at my feet. (I think the basin still leaks, though, so that's a problem.) And we still have the issue of having to flip a breaker to allow water into the house. Oh joy.
...and I'm still not unpacked from moving back home three months ago. Guess I know how to spend some of my time between job hunts, eh?

Opinionated.

The evening news is on, and I just heard a story which stirred me.

I heard that Apple has released their sales of $11.8 billion. Eleven billion eight-hundred-million dollars. We are "struggling" so much, aren't we?