My Birthday was Two Days Ago.

And this is my 100th post.

I know I think this every year for every age, but I don't know what twenty-four is supposed to feel like. So far, it's better than twenty-three. So far, it's different.

Twenty-three gave me these gifts:

Two road trips
The Avett Brothers
Surgery
Eight bloody months. (Gross, I know.)
Hashimoto's Thyroiditis
New Year's Day
Hives
Loneliness
Marita (Although, I suppose that was 22)
An AmeriCorps position
Sadness
Acceptance
Celexa
Self-Reliance
Justin and Natalie
A boyfriend
Zombieland
Visits from Triina

Twenty-three was a bitter sweet year. My birthday party was a concert. I fear that most of the people at that party are people I may never see again. But that's growing up, isn't it?

Twenty-Four has given me these gifts so far:

No cold until after my birthday
A growing support system
A boyfriend's parents
Potential road trips
Two upcoming Avett Brothers shows
A visit to come from Stephanie and my sister
A growing like for Phoenix
People who let me down less than I let myself down.

I know I have more to learn and experience. I'm aware of that. But Twenty-Four has so much more promise than Twenty-Three ever did. Shortly before leaving Kalamazoo, I took an informal survey of about ten people. All of them said that twenty-three was a bad year. In no way am I glad to hear that I'm not the only one.

Dear friends,

I still miss you.

-Theresa

Yesterday was Zac Hanson's birthday.

So, it's about that time. You know, where I start to feel a little guilty for not having updated in awhile. More, I feel guilty for not having written in a little while. Sort of. Here's an up to date list of truths:

I don't hate Arizona nearly as much as I used to.
This has largely to do with the fact that I started working.
And I have friends now.
One of those friends happens to be my boyfriend.
Yes, it weirded me out to actually write that.
I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
My job is getting better with each day because I've asked for stuff to do.
I'm not sure the thyroid medicine is working but the crazy pills certainly are.
I haven't cried in over a month.
The last time I could say that was a long time ago.
My range of emotions is fairly limited at this present time.
I'm not sure I really like that.
I'm really glad that I've made myself be a person who tries to make the best of every situation.
Do I want to be a teacher?
The high temperatures were in the eighties for a week and it was perfect.
I wish I could run my toes in the grass.
The winter grass is growing but it still houses roaches.
I met my first scorpion a few days ago.
I still don't like them.
There are multiple cases of the flu (regular and swine varieties) at my school.
I haven't changed anything I do for that.
I love probiotics.
I still miss my scattered friends.
The friendships I have cultivated here lack a certain amount of depth.
I still don't know how to be in a relationship.
I've become one of those people that stops to say hello to every dog I meet.
Before acknowledging the owner.
I've driven on the freeway quite a few times now.
Alone (not following anyone and with no one else in the car) too.
These schools make me sad.
These kids deserve better.
I'm tired all the time.
In fact, I wish I was asleep right now.
But all in all, my life is pretty good right now.
And I believe I'm making the most of it.

-Theresa

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

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

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

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

Hey, Arizona.

Well, I'm still here. And so far, I'm not impressed. Really, it's that I miss the level of comfort created by a relatively steady income and friends. I miss knowing where I'm going and knowing where I can go. Okay, and I kind of miss long sleeves. I'm trying to make the best out of this situation. I am. I'm applying for jobs. I'm driving around. I'm looking stuff up when I have internet access. I'm trying. But it's really hard to make friends while not working or going to school. Put me near people and I'll make friends. But when there's no one I know but the people I live with, it's difficult.

And I sound like I'm whining.

I don't think I made a mistake coming out here yet. I just wish I didn't feel this way. I'm considering a fast food job just so I have somewhere to go during the day until my job starts. Anyone want to fly out and play? I'm pretty much free until September. I hear flights are really cheap right now. If I had the money, I'd fly to you. But that seems a little like giving up at this point. Although, I'm still considering the four Colorado shows in as many days thing.

I should've moved to Colorado.

-Theresa

I'm leaving Michigan

With my heart on my sleeve.

"My wife and my friends, we became a family here."

I'm in Tempe now. And how am I doing? I'm adjusting. I don't think I've ever had an especially difficult time with change but I'm having a difficult time this time. More than I expected I would, anyway. It's because I'm not busy. My job doesn't start until September. You had better believe I'm going to get a second job. I'm having trouble staying asleep in the morning and awake at night.

The heat doesn't bother me. It just doesn't feel like home. I guess I wasn't expecting it to but I was hoping to have a place that felt like home by now. And I guess I do; they're in Colorado.

I miss you more than I care to admit. But what am I supposed to do with that?

The sun is constantly shining out here. And I don't mind. But I've always found that the most beautiful pictures also have shadows. Somehow, even the night is too bright. I'm not complaining. I think I'll grow to enjoy the life I have year. And if I don't, it's only a year.

It's just... Shouldn't I know who I am by now? At least a little?

People I hardly know read my face. They read what it said and they understood the general sentiment. Regardless, I didn't take the time to correct the errors in translation.

I suspect that I'll feel more stable when I'm distracted during the day. I have a meeting on Tuesday to sort of figure out what I'll be doing at work. Monday, I think I'm going to go get a second job. I just don't feel like I belong here yet.

I might spend the rest of the evening writing letters. But I also want to go see 500 Days of Summer.

Soon, I'll try to have a more substantial update. We don't have internet at the apartment. It may take longer than I would like. Anyway, thanks for any encouragement you've thrown my way. Know that I've needed and appreciated it.

Greensky Bluegrass is playing in Mesa at the end of August. A little piece of home.

-Theresa

In our days, we will live

like our ghosts will live.

I am never so comforted by discomfort as when I am with you. There is always more to say but no need to. There is always more to understand. More to feel and see and want. But no need to.

I know what I would say now.

To be loved.

But me? To feel loved.

-Theresa

He's winning on the telephone

I maybe shouldn't post right now. But I need to do something to distract myself from everything that's going on. I kind of want to talk or be around people but there's no one around. My roommate is gone for the night with her now-husband. Most of the people I want to see are not anywhere close, busy or asleep. I need someone comfortable right now. Someone who would pray with me instead of asking questions I don't know the answers to. I need someone to talk to me and tell me that it will all work out for the best, even if it won't. Instead, I have a lease on an apartment that echoes because the furniture is gone.

When I get a mosquito bite, I can't tell until about fifteen hours later. My head knows that I was surrounded by mosquitos and my extremities were exposed so I was bound to have a bite or two even if I can't feel it. The problem is there but I can't tell yet. It's my body's delayed response. Eventually, I realize what happened and I'm really better off not knowing. I start to itch so I start to scratch. And I scratch and scratch and scratch until it doesn't really feel that good anymore but I just have to. I have to keep going because if I stop, it itches again and I'd rather scratch than itch.

You are my mosquito bite.

I feel ill at ease and out of place.

-Theresa

Brand, brand new

For Christmas last year, I included a mix CD with the gifts I gave my immediate family. My dad has mentioned a few times over the last few months that he still listens to it and it still trying to figure out exactly what I was trying to say. That was the point, I guess. I picked each song for a reason. It's how I make all my mix CDs. It's why they take so long to make.

I digress. I guess he sort of figured out what I was trying to say. He sent me a seven page poem in the mail to let me know. A friend I hadn't seen in a while came over right after I read it (coincidence) and I hadn't wiped all the tears off my face yet. By far, this is the best gift I have ever received. My dad understands.

Small excerpts:

"Music has been my salvation,
but don't tell Jesus."

"I've never loved December.
The truth be told,
I have a harder time with June."

"When we meet again,
we can compare notes."

"You're anything but ordinary.
A distinct and unique
Individual."

"So whoever will love you
should always
count their blessings.
Sort of like I count mine
when I think of your mother.
So whoever loves you
will dwell in triumph
and abandon their pain.
Whoever loves you
will wonder where you were
all of his life."

"Time for honesty.
Remember honesty?
I'll miss you.
But there's worse things
than that.
Like seeing an open door
that is meant for you
but never entered.
Enter!!!
Live. Right. Now."

I love my dad.

-Theresa