I'm okay. Not Endometriosis. They took out something that looked suspicious looking. I'm healing. Two scars. Follow up appointment in a month or so. I guess my insides look good. I remember freaking out when I woke up. But then I was okay. Longer update later. There is ice cream to be eaten and friends to love. Thanks for your support.
-Theresa
29 April 2009
27 April 2009
Overheard
More accurately, I participated in this conversation.
Overheard (in whispers): I don't know. Go ask her.
Young Patron (YP)(in whispers): How do you spell "shawde?"
(T) Me: What is it?
YP (still whispering): "Shaw-dee."
T: Can you tell me where you heard it?
YP: Well, Soulja Boy was talking about it in a song. "Shawde."
T: Oh, I think you mean "shortie" but I'll write that down for you.
She seemed satisfied with my answer.
A moment later, Young Patron's friend needed my help writing down "Little Scooter." I can only imagine who sings about that.
-Theresa
Overheard (in whispers): I don't know. Go ask her.
Young Patron (YP)(in whispers): How do you spell "shawde?"
(T) Me: What is it?
YP (still whispering): "Shaw-dee."
T: Can you tell me where you heard it?
YP: Well, Soulja Boy was talking about it in a song. "Shawde."
T: Oh, I think you mean "shortie" but I'll write that down for you.
She seemed satisfied with my answer.
A moment later, Young Patron's friend needed my help writing down "Little Scooter." I can only imagine who sings about that.
-Theresa
Green reminds me
Julia and I went to the East side of the state on Thursday planning on only staying for a day. We just got back yesterday. It's been the best time I've spent not working in a long time. Under the saddest of circumstances, of course. We went with no plan and it worked out for the best.
The stars would never hurt her never lie never desert her painted on her body.
I forget what it's like to be around people who are goodfor me. I knew I missed them. I didn't realize how much I missed them. These are people who call me out on the stupid things I think in order to help me rather than embarrass me. These are people I've had a difficult time functioning without.
I've only been a shadow of myself. If it's Endometriosis, I'm getting a side piece. I may as well be a canvas.
Lately, it's taken all I have in me to keep from falling apart. Thank you for trying to help. Tonight, after work, I'm going to clean while drinking. It's how I clear my head. Of course, there will be abundant amounts of praying that everything is okay. I don't really want a side piece anyway.
-Theresa
The stars would never hurt her never lie never desert her painted on her body.
I forget what it's like to be around people who are good
I've only been a shadow of myself. If it's Endometriosis, I'm getting a side piece. I may as well be a canvas.
Lately, it's taken all I have in me to keep from falling apart. Thank you for trying to help. Tonight, after work, I'm going to clean while drinking. It's how I clear my head. Of course, there will be abundant amounts of praying that everything is okay. I don't really want a side piece anyway.
-Theresa
23 April 2009
This is not my tragedy.
A friend's dad passed away. I'm going home for the funeral. You know you're grown up when it takes a death to bring you back to the people that have mattered most to you. I want college back. When all that mattered was ways to avoid doing homework. When homework was an excuse to get out of anything. When life understood that you had something that needed to get done. But we're older now. I don't have a real job but I guess this is real life.
I don't have much to say on the matter. I knew Tom. He was a good man, as far as I knew. His death is not my tragedy. The pain his death causes is partly my burden to carry only because it is carried by people I care so deeply for. I wish I could carry more of it. I wish I could do more for you.
I think I broke the wings off that little song bird.
If life's taught me anything it's that nothing is ever how you expect it to be. Nothing. We make things better or worse in our heads. To cope. That space inside our heads is what keeps us standing. That space inside our (cheese alert) hearts that we let people into is what keeps us going. It's the reason I haven't stopped trusting people even though I've been given ample reason to do so. I'm sure most people have. But we do what we can.
I've spent a lot of my life teaching myself to stop feeling. I stopped doing that. This whole feeling thing sucks. But I think it's better. Not feeling was my coping method. My cousin has been dead for nine years as of Monday. Nine years is a long time. I only let myself begin to acknowledge a loss about four years ago. It's what I needed to do. And then I learned that with a support system, I could deal with things right away, relatively. But I still don't know how to ask for help. I don't know how to depend. And so I don't. So if someone is there to care for me, I let them. If not, well, my methods of self preservation have been well-cultivated. I know, there are better ways. I know. But sometimes I can't make up for my shortcomings.
Being a grown-up sucks.
-Theresa
I don't have much to say on the matter. I knew Tom. He was a good man, as far as I knew. His death is not my tragedy. The pain his death causes is partly my burden to carry only because it is carried by people I care so deeply for. I wish I could carry more of it. I wish I could do more for you.
I think I broke the wings off that little song bird.
If life's taught me anything it's that nothing is ever how you expect it to be. Nothing. We make things better or worse in our heads. To cope. That space inside our heads is what keeps us standing. That space inside our (cheese alert) hearts that we let people into is what keeps us going. It's the reason I haven't stopped trusting people even though I've been given ample reason to do so. I'm sure most people have. But we do what we can.
I've spent a lot of my life teaching myself to stop feeling. I stopped doing that. This whole feeling thing sucks. But I think it's better. Not feeling was my coping method. My cousin has been dead for nine years as of Monday. Nine years is a long time. I only let myself begin to acknowledge a loss about four years ago. It's what I needed to do. And then I learned that with a support system, I could deal with things right away, relatively. But I still don't know how to ask for help. I don't know how to depend. And so I don't. So if someone is there to care for me, I let them. If not, well, my methods of self preservation have been well-cultivated. I know, there are better ways. I know. But sometimes I can't make up for my shortcomings.
Being a grown-up sucks.
-Theresa
17 April 2009
Here in Right Field
It's easy, you know.
Moving day is ever closer. I think it's safe to say that my feelings of nervousness are actually anxiety. And my overwhelming sadness is probably depression. And I'm leaving soon so there's no point in finding a doctor before I go. But I'm losing my insurance pretty soon here. Oh well. Lots of crazy people don't talk to anyone about their problems and aren't on medication anyway. It's going to be great.
Bob Loblaw. Mmmyup.
I'm going on walks. It helps.
Moving day is ever closer. I think it's safe to say that my feelings of nervousness are actually anxiety. And my overwhelming sadness is probably depression. And I'm leaving soon so there's no point in finding a doctor before I go. But I'm losing my insurance pretty soon here. Oh well. Lots of crazy people don't talk to anyone about their problems and aren't on medication anyway. It's going to be great.
Bob Loblaw. Mmmyup.
I'm going on walks. It helps.
15 April 2009
Pop Quiz
Because surprise pelvic exams are my favorite.
Surgery is two weeks from today. I had my pre-op appointment. That was... fun. I didn't actually see the doctor until about forty-five minutes after I was scheduled to. The surgery should only take an hour. Two scars. Dissolvable stitches. Tylenol with Codeine.
To make myself feel better, I bought a milkshake. I wanted vanilla. They gave me chocolate. I gave it to Kristalynn.
Student from hell is in the lab. She wanted Kristalynn but her shift was over. She ended up with me. She asked for an example. I gave her three. She said I wasn't being specific enough and she needed more examples. I told her I had given her some and she just needed to write about her experience using those examples. She flipped out and said she was reporting me because I wasn't helping her and that she was failing her class because of me. I went and told my advisor what happened. She said I was fine. About three minutes later, the student and the advisor walked in. Advisor asked me to tell her what happened. I told her exactly what I had told the student. Advisor says, "well, that sounds like examples." Student declares that it's not enough and I need to break it down more. That we're being unprofessional. That she's going to stay in the room and type her paper. Advisor informs her that there is a computer lab one floor up where I'm not. She decides to stay anyway but doesn't want me to talk to her. She then says she's failing her class because I listen to music while I'm at work. Oh, she's apparently also failing because I told her she couldn't just write down exactly what I said, that she needed to come up with her own ideas and words. She yelled at my advisor. And at me. And she could go ANYWHERE ELSE but has decided to stay here anyway and tell me to turn my music down. I informed her that upstairs, there is no music and she wouldn't even have to see me because I don't work there. She's decided to stay here anyway. I'm thrilled.
So I'm having a bad day. Kathy is sick. I took her some bagels. Kristalynn is gone. Everyone else is at work. And I'm sad and kind of want a hug. But I'm at work for six and a half more hours. And I'm trapped. I don't like feeling this way. More and more, I'm aware that I can't live my life alone. And I don't want to. More and more, I'm realizing I kind of have to.
*Edit: The student came back to apologize for the way she acted. Said God had convicted her and that she shouldn't use excuses for her behavior. She invited me to her church.
-Theresa
Surgery is two weeks from today. I had my pre-op appointment. That was... fun. I didn't actually see the doctor until about forty-five minutes after I was scheduled to. The surgery should only take an hour. Two scars. Dissolvable stitches. Tylenol with Codeine.
To make myself feel better, I bought a milkshake. I wanted vanilla. They gave me chocolate. I gave it to Kristalynn.
Student from hell is in the lab. She wanted Kristalynn but her shift was over. She ended up with me. She asked for an example. I gave her three. She said I wasn't being specific enough and she needed more examples. I told her I had given her some and she just needed to write about her experience using those examples. She flipped out and said she was reporting me because I wasn't helping her and that she was failing her class because of me. I went and told my advisor what happened. She said I was fine. About three minutes later, the student and the advisor walked in. Advisor asked me to tell her what happened. I told her exactly what I had told the student. Advisor says, "well, that sounds like examples." Student declares that it's not enough and I need to break it down more. That we're being unprofessional. That she's going to stay in the room and type her paper. Advisor informs her that there is a computer lab one floor up where I'm not. She decides to stay anyway but doesn't want me to talk to her. She then says she's failing her class because I listen to music while I'm at work. Oh, she's apparently also failing because I told her she couldn't just write down exactly what I said, that she needed to come up with her own ideas and words. She yelled at my advisor. And at me. And she could go ANYWHERE ELSE but has decided to stay here anyway and tell me to turn my music down. I informed her that upstairs, there is no music and she wouldn't even have to see me because I don't work there. She's decided to stay here anyway. I'm thrilled.
So I'm having a bad day. Kathy is sick. I took her some bagels. Kristalynn is gone. Everyone else is at work. And I'm sad and kind of want a hug. But I'm at work for six and a half more hours. And I'm trapped. I don't like feeling this way. More and more, I'm aware that I can't live my life alone. And I don't want to. More and more, I'm realizing I kind of have to.
*Edit: The student came back to apologize for the way she acted. Said God had convicted her and that she shouldn't use excuses for her behavior. She invited me to her church.
-Theresa
14 April 2009
Let's see...
Surgery is on 29 April.
I am still scared.
I still like guitar a lot but I wish, like I'm sure many do, that I was just natural at it.
I'm going to be a teacher's assistant starting in September.
I am also going to be leading after school programs.
Moving day is still 20 June.
I have put in notice at both of my jobs.
I don't know if I am more scared of not succeeding, driving or surgery.
Very little surprises me anymore.
I like doing nice things for people.
I wish I could function past midnight.
I wish I could stay asleep at night.
I seem to talk about myself a lot.
Watching movies rented from the library seems to be a sufficient distraction.
The internet bores me.
I would say I wish I had a life but more, I wish I could hold onto it.
I'm okay being the scape goat on this one. So okay.
But you... You, I miss a little.
I'm not yet the person I wish I was.
Surgery is on 29 April.
I am still scared.
I still like guitar a lot but I wish, like I'm sure many do, that I was just natural at it.
I'm going to be a teacher's assistant starting in September.
I am also going to be leading after school programs.
Moving day is still 20 June.
I have put in notice at both of my jobs.
I don't know if I am more scared of not succeeding, driving or surgery.
Very little surprises me anymore.
I like doing nice things for people.
I wish I could function past midnight.
I wish I could stay asleep at night.
I seem to talk about myself a lot.
Watching movies rented from the library seems to be a sufficient distraction.
The internet bores me.
I would say I wish I had a life but more, I wish I could hold onto it.
I'm okay being the scape goat on this one. So okay.
But you... You, I miss a little.
I'm not yet the person I wish I was.
07 April 2009
06 April 2009
Winter just wasn't my season.
Since winter in Michigan lasts well through April, I'm not the least bit surprised that things haven't turned around.
In some ways they have, I suppose. I'll be moving. But I know that a change of venue doesn't change the quality of the music: just one's perception of it.
Some time this week, I'll be getting a phone call to schedule a surgery. It's going to be out-patient and I'm going to be asleep while two procedures are performed but the thought of it is making me sick. I'm scared. I'M SCARED. Stoic exterior be damned. I'm not sure I can handle this alone.
They're not sure what they're looking for. If they find nothing, I have to get more invasive procedures done. If they find that it's Endometriosis, I have to further experiment with birth control and suck it up because it's something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life. Oh, and it leads to infertility. I've been assured no more than a quarter inch scar on my belly and another one hidden inside my belly button. These pamphlets are doing very little to help.
I can't do this alone. I'm asking for... Well, I don't know what I'm asking for but I have a hard time asking for help when I need it and I think I need it.
In the mean time, I'm giving myself today to dwell on it. I think I'm going to go to the bar after work. Tomorrow, I'll still be scared. But I'll be sober and I'm going to try to pretend like everything is okay because I'm so fucking sick of it not being okay.
-Theresa
In some ways they have, I suppose. I'll be moving. But I know that a change of venue doesn't change the quality of the music: just one's perception of it.
Some time this week, I'll be getting a phone call to schedule a surgery. It's going to be out-patient and I'm going to be asleep while two procedures are performed but the thought of it is making me sick. I'm scared. I'M SCARED. Stoic exterior be damned. I'm not sure I can handle this alone.
They're not sure what they're looking for. If they find nothing, I have to get more invasive procedures done. If they find that it's Endometriosis, I have to further experiment with birth control and suck it up because it's something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life. Oh, and it leads to infertility. I've been assured no more than a quarter inch scar on my belly and another one hidden inside my belly button. These pamphlets are doing very little to help.
I can't do this alone. I'm asking for... Well, I don't know what I'm asking for but I have a hard time asking for help when I need it and I think I need it.
In the mean time, I'm giving myself today to dwell on it. I think I'm going to go to the bar after work. Tomorrow, I'll still be scared. But I'll be sober and I'm going to try to pretend like everything is okay because I'm so fucking sick of it not being okay.
-Theresa
04 April 2009
Phoenix, AZ (Part Two)
I guess I neglected this for a bit. I guess I'm okay with that. I'm back in Kalamazoo for the time being. These are the facts:
I wrote my essay for my position for Americorps while drinking.
I was offered an interview and a position in the same day.
Pending a background check, I have a position with Americorps.
I signed an application for an apartment in Tempe, AZ.
The moving truck leaves Kalamazoo 20 June.
I might already have a subleaser in Kalamazoo.
Even though I know I could, I don't want to share a room until I'm married.
I'm scared to go.
Even though we're moving in June, the Americorps position doesn't start until September.
I'm going to get a part time job and then keep it while volunteering.
My dad didn't seem disappointed in my decision to take a low paying position.
I still really hate driving.
I should look into the possibility that Xanax might improve my daily life.
You're reading this so you know I'm moving. Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to advertise the fact.
That's not to say it's a secret.
I don't know why I even said that.
Do I need to put in a two month's notice?
I'm a little nervous too.
Right now, I'm tired.
-Theresa
I wrote my essay for my position for Americorps while drinking.
I was offered an interview and a position in the same day.
Pending a background check, I have a position with Americorps.
I signed an application for an apartment in Tempe, AZ.
The moving truck leaves Kalamazoo 20 June.
I might already have a subleaser in Kalamazoo.
Even though I know I could, I don't want to share a room until I'm married.
I'm scared to go.
Even though we're moving in June, the Americorps position doesn't start until September.
I'm going to get a part time job and then keep it while volunteering.
My dad didn't seem disappointed in my decision to take a low paying position.
I still really hate driving.
I should look into the possibility that Xanax might improve my daily life.
You're reading this so you know I'm moving. Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to advertise the fact.
That's not to say it's a secret.
I don't know why I even said that.
Do I need to put in a two month's notice?
I'm a little nervous too.
Right now, I'm tired.
-Theresa
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