For the second time in about 5 years, I have to go for a follow-up ultrasound after a mammogram. It’s unnerving, to say the least. Though I know it’s probably nothing, there was still a problem with my mammogram. There’s a difference between the last two years and this year. I wish I could go today for the ultrasound and know something by Monday, but I can’t get in until Tuesday morning. That’s a long time to be uncertain. I feel like I can handle any diagnosis I get, once I get the diagnosis. Or hear that it’s nothing.
I’ll be sitting in my closet under a blanket, if anyone needs to contact me.
Why do people swerve left or right to turn in the opposite direction?
Why does my dog still bark at stuff outside of the house when she knows she’s going to be squirted with water, pulled off the furniture, or made to go in the other room and lie down? Is the payoff that great?
How the hell did I hurt my foot? (Been off my feet for the last 9 days)
Who would I be if I had had a fantastic support system when I was growing up?
Can I actually get down to 140 pounds? Am I not actually a hard enough worker and too dependent on food as comfort to make this happen?
Would my brain waves change if I practiced guitar every day like I keep telling myself I’m going to?
Who actually wants to know how you are doing when they ask and who doesn’t? When did the switch happen in English that this became a greeting and not a legitimate question?
Will Brexit open up jobs for non-EU resident ESL teachers? Please???
I wonder if The Kelly and Ryan Show would ever let me be a travel trivia dancer?
Why doesn’t my body ever adjust to being well-hydrated? Is it possible to stay hydrated and NOT spend my entire day peeing?
Why didn’t I switch to a women’s gym a year ago?
How can I work the word INDUBITABLY!!! into everyday conversations?
Why don’t more people claim and display their weirdness? How do they expect to find their tribe? Are they more lonely than those of us who do?
I guess that’s all for now. If you have any answers, please let me know.
I like this word, but it applies to nothing in my life. I can’t even make it apply to my dog.
obedient or attentive to an excessive or servile degree.
“they were served by obsequious waiters”
||servile, ingratiating, sycophantic, fawning, unctuous, oily, oleaginous, groveling, cringing, subservient, submissive, slavish;
I thought I’d start blogging again because I need an outlet once more. Every time I’ve been to therapy, it’s been recommended that I journal or write. I choose to write and subject everyone else to my angst, pain, and problems. It’s what makes people love me, I’m sure. Oversharing is my strong suit.
I am writing now because of physical pain. As of today, I have had a headache off and on for two weeks now, and I can’t get anymore migraine medication until Monday according to the insurance gods. Not that the fucking medication helps. I get a few hours of relief, then it comes back worse. These last few days the entire top of my head hurts. I think it was easier to deal with knee surgery than this.
Let’s add the sweet, sweet ingredients of shame and guilt to the mix. My headaches get so bad, and sometimes other aches and pains, too, that I have to cancel classes. I haven’t missed this much work since I’ve been sober. I feel like a terrible person and teacher.
I’m not sitting idly by, because I am a DOER!! I went to urgent care, I’ve been to the doctor an embarrassing amount and I’m going back Monday. The next level of medication has the side effect of making it hard for me to find words and slower thinking. Perfect for a language teacher who DEALS IN WORDS AS A PROFESSION.
So, I’d like to register a complaint with management. This is not what I signed up for. They say that childhood trauma makes folks more likely to have sicknesses, pain, etc., when they are adults, but COME ON.
Okay, that’s it for now. Trump rants soon to be coming. Fuck that guy.
Because I don’t have a sponsor and I don’t go to a support group, I usually forget my sobriety birthday: then Lumpy does something nice and reminds me. It turns out that August 22 is the day, and it’s a big one this time. 5 years. When you go regularly to support groups, you are usually asked how you did it on your anniversary, and I would like to just say that I did everything they told me to do for the first year to year and a half, then I relied on therapy, gratitude, and my own intuition about what I needed. Also, I’m stubborn as hell and competitive with myself, so seeing this as the longest race of my life helps keep my head in the game.
I’m lucky that I had an entire life before drinking of healthy non-alcoholic fun, so that part hasn’t been as bad for me as it can be for others. The hardest part for me has been processing death and not falling into old emotional patterns. I’m not always successful, but I DO it, anyway.
I’m eating pizza tonight to celebrate. 5 years.
I went back to see a new orthopedic doctor today about my back pain, and before anything else, he told me that, at this point, I should avoid doing things that make my back hurt. I kind of lost my shit, started crying and raised my voice at this point, because I don’t think anyone is listening anymore. I’m going for an MRI now, and I’m pretty fucking sure that they are missing something that I hope shows up in the MRI, because all their focus is ON THE WRONG SPOT. The spot that shows arthritis in my back has never caused me any problems. So, I thought I would write down all things I would have to avoid, if I want to not irritate my back.
- Stand up from sitting, or sit from standing.
- Get on or off the toilet.
- Go up and down stairs.
- Pick up dog poop when I’m walking the dogs.
- Pet the dogs.
- Get in and out of the car.
- Put on and take off pants or shorts.
- Put on, take off, or tie my shoes.
- Turn the shower on before getting in.
- Get in or out of the shower.
- Sit in the car more than 10 minutes.
- Sit and teach for more than 10 minutes.
- Bend forward at all.
So, I would like to know how this guy thinks I should live. He only recommended the MRI after I lost my shit in his office. If one more motherfucker tells me about my back pain that is not in the spot I told them it was, I will be forced to punch him in the face.
I became a racial justice facilitator about a year ago. I’ve only done maybe 4 events, but I feel like just before and since I went through the training, I started truly considering my own racism and how I honestly feel about black people. What I’m learning is that I still have more to do to conquer my learned biases and assumptions. It’s a long process. I wish I’d started it sooner.
I grew up more or less surrounded by uneducated white people who didn’t have a lot of experience with people of other races and religions. I can see now how I took on the cultural beliefs and attitudes of the adults around me, while still somehow managing to not think that it was really right. I feel really lucky to have had the nagging feeling in the back of my head that caused me to do more reading and exploring back then. I am ashamed of things I’ve said and things I thought were true, though I do know that I didn’t “know better” at that point.
I’ve been dabbling in genealogy for a while now, and I know for sure that there were slaveholders in my family, so I’ve been obsessed lately with reading the runaway slave announcements that my ancestors put in the newspapers in Virginia, and thinking hard about how slavery benefited them and me. I’m currently reading The Half Has Never Been Told , which is about how slavery built American capitalism. It’s rough-I haven’t even gotten through the first chapter and I feel like my head is going to explode. It makes it more real to then read the runaway slave ads in the old papers.
I’m not sure what the point to this post is, other than I am so troubled over what’s finally showing up in the media here in the U.S. It makes sick to think how much of this has been happening that we didn’t know about due to lack of curiosity, lack of media coverage, and lack of belief. I wonder if the rate at which women are raped and the rate at which black people are hurt or killed by white people is similar, which means it’s atrociously high. I am trying to relate to or understand how it feels to wear the reason people hate you and treat you like an animal on your skin and to never be able to just blend in. I do know what it feels like to feel like an object in public just because of how my body looks, but I can still sometimes find ways to mask myself and make myself invisible.
The color of our skin is what it is ONLY because our ancestors evolved at certain distances from the equator. That is all. That thought alone blows my brain wide open. I think about American history and all the pain caused black people in this country because of skin color. On top of that, slaves were never willing immigrants to this country. Most black people are descendants of people who DID NOT CHOOSE to come here, unlike most of the rest of the white and brown populations in the U.S. Another mind-blowing thought when you then consider what we have done to black people.
I have so much to think about. I still have so much self-examination to do.