Everything Trying

I couldn't fall asleep last night. And then when I finally fell asleep, I couldn't stay asleep. I woke up at five from a dream that shouldn't have seemed as bad as it seemed. Heart racing.

I don't know if I actually hurt you but if I did, I'm sorry. I rarely defend myself in circumstances such as these but you gave me nothing to go on. I acted. I reacted. I tried to move on. Someone else offered me something Good. And it seemed like it would be good. So I chose to follow a path that I thought might make me happy. Regardless of the fact that everything in me told me not to. I needed a little something to go on. I made the wrong choice. I know it. Now. But I have to tell you, it felt pretty good to make a choice. I mean, it didn't feel so great when that choice later came back to haunt me. Continues to haunt me. Words mean just as much to me as actions. I am sorry. I did what made the most sense at the time. I won't make excuses. I guess I already did.

I realize what drives me is love. Love for friends and family and life and Things That Matter. It's what keeps me going. Even in times and places when it seems there is a severe lack of love, I am driven to pour more love into the world. Because of this pseudo-pursuit of love, I often find myself empty. I put too much in. But is that possible? Is it possible to put too much love into the world? I don't think so. I think, however, that not all love is unconditional and that not everything that looks like love is love. I'm not saying I'm a great person. I get angry and sad and I often have to talk myself into not falling apart. Sometimes I don't agree with my boss or my parents. I use a microwave to heat up rice. I don't always drink my coffee black. I think steak is DELICIOUS. But never, NEVER have I kicked a puppy. In fact, if the option is available, I will always rub a puppy's belly as long as said puppy wants a belly rub. What's my point? Even if our intentions are good, even if the things that drive us are inherently good, our actions are not always pure or perfect. I am not perfect. I will never be. But I am learning. I am learning to be better. You know, again. Or still. And I am trying. I am learning what love is and isn't and is supposed to be. I mean, maybe it's taken the process of elimination to teach me, but everyone learns differently.

I know I've learned things about myself this year. I don't know what those things are but I'm sure it will hit me at the most inconvenient time possible. Maybe I should just buy a GPS for my car and drive to Arizona alone. That will give me lots of processing time. I just really prefer talking to people more than I do robots.

-Theresa

Looking for Inspiration

Reasons why doctors are full of shit:

or

How if the doctor had done a blood test, we could know what's wrong with me:

Last night I went to bed with a few suspicious looking spots on my left hand. This morning I woke up with many, many more suspicious spots covering my extremeties. The spots are spreading and getting worse. They're on my belly and neck now. What does this have to do with the doctor and lack of a blood test? I think I have a systemic infection. One of the many symptoms is allergic reactions to things you're not actually allergic to. I haven't introduced any new food into my diet recently. Although, I did reintroduce Doritos. Those so don't count as new. Or food. I'm itchy all over but I'm breathing just fine aside for the waning (hopefully) cough of death. The thing about the infection is that it causes all these symptoms that look like other things but are just symptoms of the infection. And then it looks like everything is unrelated but isn't. So cough and allergic reaction and feeling crazy and all that other stuff is probably connected. If I'm right.

I guess I'm just frustrated.

Arizona update? Umm... Still don't have anyone to drive with. I haven't set a leaving date yet. Just some time after 8 July and before September. I want to stop in Little Rock and Dallas for sure. Probably Chicago too. It's a fifteen hour drive from Dallas to Phoenix. I never saw myself living in Arizona. But I'm going to make the most of it. It's a new start. I've learned that that doesn't mean that my problems won't follow me. They only define me as much as I let them.

All witticisms aside? I know I screwed up. I am sorry. But I think I told you that. I miss you. More than I would soberly admit.

-Theresa

My life is different now, I swear

I bought tickets to see The Avett Brothers. It's going to be at the Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, which is pretty exciting because I like outdoor shows. And The Avett Brothers.

I think I know what's wrong with me. I read two websites and two books and now, I think I may be an expert on the matter. All they needed to do was run a blood screen. Which they didn't do because they decided to run the STD screen instead. Which was SO NOT NECESSARY. I printed off some charts to fill out so I can show my doctor how all the strange and seemingly unconnected things wrong with my body are all very connected. Even the stupid cough of death. I've decided to self-medicate through nutrition. This means no (okay, less) drinking (for a bit), lots of probiotics, stopping my current medication (it's okay, the doctor gave me that option) and cutting down sugars as much as possible. It sounds like a freakish diet but I think if I stick with it for a few weeks, I may even get better without treatment. My post-op appointment is 29 May. Just a couple more weeks. I'm hoping this works because I'll have different insurance once I start my Americorps position and I don't think they do preexisting conditions.

I still need to find people to drive with me to Arizona. It was going to be my roommate and her sister but my roommate is getting married and moving to Little Rock. Hey, want to drive with me to Arizona?

I can clearly see myself not living in the U.S. I'm not sure where. I've got to think that all these weather extremes are preparing me for something. I'm trying to look forward to Arizona. In preparation, I've decided to try and learn Spanish again. Yesterday, while helping patrons, I realized I can still understand what people are saying to me but I have trouble finding the words to respond. Story of my life.

Dear Guitar-I've-Had-for-a-While-and-Still-Haven't-Named,

I'm sorry I have not spent enough time with you lately. It's just that it hurt to sit up for a couple weeks in there. Now that my belly is mostly healed, I promise we'll spend more time together. I even cut my nails, so you know I mean it. Maybe I'll even get around to naming you.

Dear Roads to Arizona,

I'm kind of a nervous driver and it's gotten worse lately. My request is that, if no one comes with me, come July, the roads are free of construction and the days are long and sunny. I think it's going to take me more than two days to drive twenty-nine hours if I have to do it by myself. I appreciate what you've done so far. Except for that snow storm in New Mexico. But I'm willing to forgive and forget if you help me get to Arizona without too much damage to my well-being.

Dear Kombucha,

You taste okay. I don't mind the vinegar taste but that could have to do with the large amounts of pickle juice I drank as a child. You're kind of expensive but if you're going to help, I guess I won't complain too much. Well, you're cheaper than a large amaretto latte with an extra shot of espresso. Plus, you don't deplete all my B-vitamins like that jerk caffeine. And no matter what flavor I get, if there's a little bit of ginger, it tastes like I'm drinking ginger tea. It's a good thing I've acquired a taste for ginger. With your power and my resistance to showering and shaving on a regular basis, I'm well on my way to being the hippies I've always made fun of.

Dear Cold Weather,

GO AWAY.

-Theresa

It's just like a girl to feel

I really don't like the way I've been feeling lately. It's an unfortunate combination of sad, tired, overwhelmed, lonely and useless. Oh, and cold because May in Michigan means forty degrees. What am I doing to combat this? Sleeping, not drinking alcohol, drinking more tea, calling friends to spend time with and there's not very much I can do about the last one. I haven't been allowed to carry anything over twenty pounds since the surgery and let me tell you, that's a lot of things. And man do they mean it.

I'd ask for your forgiveness but it seems fruitless.

I haven't been writing much because I haven't been thinking anything I haven't thought already. I haven't said anything I haven't said already. What's the point in repeating sentiments?

See? Not only do I feel sad but I sound whiny and a little pathetic. I like to keep that from the general public when I can.

-Theresa

If I live too long I'm afraid I'll die.

I always feel like I need a title. Sometimes it relates. Sometimes not. I was watching Darjeeling Limited today.

I need new music if only for the fact that every time I hear music from you, it makes me think of you.

So, it's not Endometriosis, which is great. But I'm still having the same problem and there's not a clear solution it seems. Which is not so great.

Pushing the moving date back a bit. My roommate is getting married 8 July and I kind of want to be there and she kind of wants me to be there. I hadn't put in official resignations to either job yet so it wasn't a big deal. Plus, making more money seems like a great plan. And getting to see friends I probably won't see because no one seems to like Arizona. What'd Arizona ever do to you, huh?

My throat hurts a bit but seems to be getting better. It's a good thing I love fruit because I'm eating it in abundance to make the sickness go away. Which reminds me: I'M GOING TO BE HERE FOR BLUEBERRY SEASON! I put that in all caps so that you could understand my excitement, not to yell at you. I LOVE BLUEBERRIES. If I wanted to hurt all the other berries' feelings, I would call blueberries my favorite but that seems cruel. So I won't. (But really, they kind of are and I think they know it.)

Of all the parts of me that hurt the most right now, I think my soul is in the lead. It's missing something. It needs something. I haven't given it enough attention. You.

The only ways I like chocolate:

In its hot, liquid form.
As part of a Kit Kat bar but only the normal-sized ones.
Wrapped around a peanut and with a candy-coated shell. With a little stamped "m."
Wrapped around peanut butter.
From boys.

Vampire Weekend, I've been meaning to tell you for a while: I give a fuck about an Oxford Comma but only because I hate it so much. See what I did there? I showed you some of that English drama.

Oh, and those "like" options at the bottom don't notify like Facebook does. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

That all being said, I didn't really have very much to say.

-Theresa