29 August 2009

Dear Body, (Part III)

I've been sitting on these words for awhile because I just wasn't sure what was going to happen. But I have to tell you, I never thought I'd be so happy to hear "you have an autoimmune disease." A few days ago, I was going to sit down and yell at you for having such ridiculous problems that no doctor could seem to piece together. But one finally did. Body, I was too distracted by what was going on in my head to pay full attention to you. Oh, of course I was still annoyed with you. But I think you already knew that. So I went to see Miss Head Doctor and man did she seem mean with all those blood tests she ordered. AND THEN ONE MORE. But that last one did the trick. That last one said all the crazy in you and in my head was largely because there's a problem with my thyroid. I'M CRAZY FOR A REASON! No one ever gets to say that and not be blaming someone else. I want to thank you, Body. Not for causing all those problems but... No, I don't want to thank you. That was a mean thing to do.

Body, we've been through a lot this year. Hey, it wasn't my idea to cut you open and poke around. I was just fine with saying "no" anytime I was asked if I'd had a surgery. I think this year will forever be known as The Year I Bled. Literally and metaphorically, it seems. It was the year I finally decided to take care of myself and you rather than just being in fight or flight mode all the time. I understand that you're probably as fed up with me as I am with you, Body. I totally get that. I'd been running you on an average of thirty hours of sleep a week and a diet that mostly consisted of cheap coffee and cheaper food. I've tried to rectify that in more recent months. I slept more, stopped drinking coffee for the most part and went gluten free. That didn't work. Because you're a jerk. Okay, so it's not entirely your fault. The nice Family Doctor said that you have something called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. She could tell because one of your thyroid hormones was way off the charts. The normal level is supposed to be under 35. Yours was 780.

The symptoms:

Fatigue (check)
Drowsiness (check)
Forgetfulness (check)
Depression (check)
Difficulty with learning (It's been awhile)
Dry, brittle hair and nails (Okay, you don't have this one. Yay!)
Dry, itchy skin (Not really a check either)
Puffy Face (check)
Belly problems (check)
Sore muscles (check)
Weight Gain (this was a check until the gluten free thing)
Sensitivity to cold (check)
Menstrual problems (CHECK.)

That nice Head Doctor said that my symptoms sounded like depression but weren't fully consistent and that's why she ordered that extra blood test. Body, I want to say I'm sorry for all that yelling I did and all those mean things I said. I meant them at the time but I was just really frustrated. The Family Doctor said I have to take a pill a day for the rest of my life. As my peace offering to you, Body, I'm going to take that pill and I'm not going to complain. So, get better damn it. The best part about that pill is that it has a generic so that even when I don't have insurance anymore, it still only costs $4 a month. I know it's not entirely your fault either. It turns out that Hashimoto's is hereditary. Do you know what my dad said when I called to tell him what was wrong, Body? Of course you do. You were there. "Oh, your mom has that too. And I think my doctor said I have it too. And your sister might have it too." I didn't know any better, Body. It seems my family didn't think to tell me THEY HAVE A HEREDITARY DISEASE THAT CAUSES ALL THE SYMPTOMS I HAD. You and me, we made do with what we had.

I'm going to stick with the gluten free thing. It does make me feel better. Plus, I now weigh as much as I did in high school. Now, even though I'm making you be gluten free, I'll happily give you as much beer as you want, Body. And I do hope that's a lot of beer. I'm going to take that pill everyday. I'm going to try and get you normal amounts of sleep but you're going to have to meet me halfway on that one and stop being so tired all the time. It's just not fair. I want to do things. I kind of need your help with that one. I might not take a second job. I don't really need it. I mean, I did in the month of August but that's over in a couple days. I like weekends. It'll be good. I'll shave your legs every now and then and maybe we can go swimming in October or something. Yeah, I'd do that for you. Body, we've really got to work together. We could have a good thing going for us, I think. If it's less hair you want, I can do something about that. I was thinking about going out and buying you new pants today. You deserve them. Body, I do want to thank you for having something easy to fix wrong with you. I know it could've been much worse. An autoimmune disease sounds scary but it seems like an easy fix. We've been through so much more together, Body. We can totally do this. Let's do this.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

15 August 2009

Who put this breadth

behind my perspective?

I went to a Southern Baptist church last week and kind of liked it. It was the friendliest group of worshipers I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was quite obvious that they had a "greet the visitor" thing going but they were very welcoming. The music was okay and the message wasn't anything especially profound. But it's churches that I've been to that have made me this jaded, I think. Any true word of Jesus should be profound. I'm going back because of how friendly the people were. I've bonded with a septuagenarian named Irene. She took me to lunch and convinced me I should come back the following week (tomorrow). So I will. Because I didn't do any research on any other churches and that's just fine. I don't need an edgy church. I just need Jesus.

I've made a few friends out here. Mostly, they're friends of my roommates but they're starting to be friends of mine as well. I'm learning what it means to be an introvert. I hate it. I really like being with people. I like feeling busy. I enjoy it. But I've always known it.

The psychiatrist put me on medication and had a fancy way of saying "your family has a history of bipolar disorder and depression so I can't just call this something simple." It hasn't kicked in just yet but I am starting to feel a little less helpless each day. That's good. That's what it's supposed to do. I just have to keep reminding myself that asking for help isn't giving up. With this situation or any other.

Operation Get-Over-It is in full effect.

-Theresa

08 August 2009

Sitting on the balcony

But I'm not making any promises.

I spend most of my days alone these days. That's the hard part. That's what hard about being here. I love being around people and talking and communicating and sharing. And I'm not getting to do that. So why don't I? It's hard being in a new city alone. Legitimately alone. I'm not talking about being a part of a married couple and both of you being alone. I'm talking about being the only connection to yourself. I am the only person here who knows me for who I am. I want to change that. I do. But how? I think I'll go to a new church tomorrow. I might go to a show tonight. I should be able to drive within a couple of hours.

It's not hard having nothing to do if you have someone to share that experience with. It's not nothing then. It's a shared experience. I don't have those right now. Yesterday, I spent a drive being made fun of for reactions I can't control. That's what I have. I have letters I write because it gives me something to do. It's a level of communication. Today, I wrote one letter. I don't do well with bored. I don't do well with lonely. I'm hardly doing well.

Tomorrow, I'll go to a new church. I might write new letters. I'll think about buying groceries. I'll reconsider. I'll think about playing guitar. Or doing laundry. Tomorrow, I have another chance at a new start that I seem to be having such a hard time putting into action. Monday, I have a job interview. The training doesn't start until September.

I need to get out of this place.

Yeah, where?

It's okay. I'm not here. I'm on my way out. God, I hope I'm on my way out. I BETTER BE ON MY WAY OUT.

Yes, I've been drinking. But that's not a fair assessment. I've been praying. And I've been hoping. And I was really hoping it would get me somewhere. No, it will. Maybe not right now. But it will.

At this point, I can only think that getting over you would be the better choice. In this case, what good is hope doing? None. Yes, I miss you. Yes, I've told you. I'm afraid to call you because what if you don't answer? Then, I'll know. It's the best timing you could've hoped for. I reached out. And I still don't know what I'm grasping for. If you want me to wait, I will. If you want me to move on, I'll certainly try. But couldn't you just tell me? Just tell me where I stand.

I would say I couldn't handle this. I would. But I seem to be. I wouldn't say I'm doing fine. Because, clearly, I'm not. But I'm surviving. And that seems to be enough.

Keep it together. Keep. It. Together.

I hate it here.

Metaphorical.

Literal.

Does it matter?

I didn't think so.

I recognize your voice immediately. But we both know that's not enough. I'd keep writing but I've said too much. Tomorrow, I may go through this again and take it away. Like it would make a difference.

-Theresa

07 August 2009

Take your hands out of pockets

and hold me.

You may or may not know these things:

I've been in Arizona for two weeks and one day.
I haven't "adjusted" yet.
That's my cop out way of saying I think I might've made a mistake in moving here.
I've never been on a date.
Of the two guys I "dated" in high school, one is gay and the other is married.
I get complimented most on my skin lately.
I've spent a lot of my life being told I was fat and ugly.
I have a hard time believing otherwise because of it.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Monday.
It makes me sad because I think I need to.
I have never had so much nothing to do in my life as I do right now.
I've spent most of my life being busy so I wouldn't have to think too much.
The last "good" night of sleep I had was on a Saturday afternoon almost four weeks ago.
Things are what you make of them.
Things are what you make of them, baby.
I worry that I'm never going to be enough.
I worry that I'm never going to feel like I'm enough.
I think my mom did a good job teaching me what she needed to for me to be a good wife.
The liberal college student in me isn't supposed to feel that way.
I want to feel like I belong.
Like I'm necessary.
Wanted.
How did I take so many steps backward?
I know I'm supposed to, but I don't really like Daniel Johnston all that much.
For three days this week, I worked for free.
I didn't mind much because it gave me something to do.
I miss having people to talk to about God.
My life story is starting to feel manufactured and impersonal.
It's okay, I stopped reading too.

-Theresa