Baggage

Doesn't it always seem like characters on television with "baggage" get to move on once they've talked about it? They make some sort of emotional breakthrough followed by tears, hugs, and things starting to mend. I'm clear on the fact that things depicted on Private Practice aren't exactly factual. It's just how I expect it to be.

Talking about unpleasant things does make things feel better, right? I feel like it does. Verbalizing the trauma releases something. It releases that feeling in my chest, that weight. Why, then, do I have residual "baggage"? Why, after all the talking, expressing, searching...why do I still feel...ashamed? I'm not even sure if that's the right word. It's guilt, or something like it. Maybe I need to talk to a therapist. Maybe just telling isn't enough to deal with everything.

I'd really hate to think that being molested as a child has to haunt me until the day I die. I mean, I'm thirty. It's been twenty-two years, and I have daily reminders of the damage done to me all that time ago. Done to me. I know I was a victim.

Fault does not lie with me, I know. I tell myself that I was too young to understand what was going on. But why do I tell myself that at all?! It's like deep down I think it was my fault. Somewhere deep down I must believe that I'm somehow guilty. I should have told someone. I should have known what was happening was evil, and screamed my lungs out. Instead, I what? Zoned out? Didn't understand? Buried it?

I blocked it out for eleven years. Whatever that means. I understand that it was something unintentional that took place in my brain, and it happened as a way to cope. I know that, and I'm thankful that I've dealt as well as I have. I'm actually a happy person. I'm married, have friends, and do what I love every day. Still, though, I feel like blocking it out hindered me from making it stop.

My abuse started when I was around three years old, and it stopped somewhere around eight. That's when my mother and I moved ten or so hours away. I have no idea how many others were hurt in all that time, besides me, because I unconsciously shoved what was happening to me into a dark corner of my head.

Maybe talking about it helps let off pressure, but it just builds back up over time. I just keep hoping and praying that this "baggage" will one day be lost in transit.

Contact Dermatitis...I Think

I probably shouldn't be writing while I feel so awful. It's bound to be hopeless, and severely depressing, but on I go.

I've got an itchy rash. :( That alone makes me incredibly upset. I've never, until now, had anything like this. It all started as a little itchy bump on my left forearm. I thought it was a bug bite. I scratched it. Then I washed it, and put antibacterial salve and a bandage on it. Then I went to The Smokies with my husband to celebrate our 7 year anniversary, and scratch my arm about OFF.

Yeah, the seven year itch. I don't even think that's funny now.

No longer is this itchy red bumpy evilness only on my left arm. It's spread up the inside of my elbow a bit, all down my left ribs, and down a little further and around my back. *cries* It's itchy like mad, and red, bumpy and gross.

I've done all kinds of research as to what it could be, been to the doctor twice, am taking meds and waiting on a call from a dermatologist. I don't have insurance, so we'll see how that goes. I pray to God that this can be stopped, and soon.

If I came into contact with poison ivy/oak/whatever, it was almost three weeks ago now! I didn't get that first itchy bump until 6 days later, and then another week until this on my ribs came up, and it's still coming up! I didn't know allergic reactions worked like that - so delayed. Could I still be coming into contact with it, even after I've washed my clothing. I threw away my favorite Kermit shirt, because that's what I was wearing when the suspected poison attacked.

I've seen pictures of how bad it can be. I keep telling myself that I've not got it that bad, but the worst part is not knowing for sure. I didn't see a plant and think, "Hmm. Was that poison something-or-other I just rubbed myself past?" I've never had anything like this in 28 years of life, so I'm a bit upset. I don't know where it will keep spreading. I don't know if it'll stop, how bad it will get or if/when it will go away. I just feel completely helpless, depressed and itchy.

One of my best friends is getting married in 16 days, and I'm in the wedding. If this doesn't go away by then, I'll just die, or want to. So...I pray. I take my cold showers, prednisone (which makes me all kinds of weird feeling & gives me tummy troubles) and antihistamines, spread on the rubbing alcohol and caldryl and I cry.


If any of you pray, please do. I need help.

Paranoia Paranoia

Let's see a show of hands on this. Who's afraid electronic devices may be slowly poisoning them with low grade radiation? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

I realize I can be a bit paranoid at times. I mean, I always worry. Like, a lot. As a child I was afraid Big Bird was secretly evil, and going to hurt the other muppets. He's a six foot canary, people. Don't you find that just a little bit creepy? Anyhow, I worry about these things.

What about our extended exposure to cell phones? Hm? I've only had one...since I was 17! That's ten years! And my best friend's littlest sister keeps her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans/under her pillow/glued to her face 24/7. She's fourteen. This is to be expected, but how about what we don't expect? I'm thinking she's going to suffer severe butt rot some day, or something equally as unexpected/tragic. She'll be walking down the hall at school, and *plop* her left butt cheek will hit the floor. What then, I ask you?

And what about wireless? This is a new development in my home. Convenient? Yes. Neat blinky lights on top of my book case? Neato! The paranoia of impending brain tumors? Not so great. My cat will be the first to go, I just know it. He's home all day with that thing! It has to have some sort of long term effect. He already pukes all the time. What if it's not just a sensitive tummy?

Mark my words, bloggers. Butts are going to be falling off left and right. And what's worse? Our house pets, and stay at home Mom's/Dad's, are going to be the ones to pay most dearly.

I don't even want to think about it. Dudes, get that cell phone off your hips. Girls, don't keep it between your legs while driving. Kayla, I'm telling you...BUTT ROT. Get it out of your back pocket NOW. And, Kimchi, stay out of the living room.

Butt Rot Survivor Sporting New Innovative
Cell Phone Radiation Protective Carrying Case
(No, I'm not serious.)

"Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying"

As much as I'd like to believe that I have all you glorious blogging friends o' mine holding your breathe for my next post, I'm glad that I realize how silly that is. For one, you'd all have kicked the bucket by now. :O For another, this oh so dark and shiny unmusical* blog just isn't that important. I mean, it's an important creative/communicative outlet for me, but in the scheme of things? It's one more thing I put pressure on myself over, and then avoid.

So, as part of an effort to stop stressing myself out over every single thing, I'm trying to be a little less neurotic about blogging/reading blogs. Being prescribed a low dose anxiety medication has made it quite evident to me that I put a lot of unnecessary stress on myself. ^_^

That being said, I'd like to make a few things clear. I like reading your blogs, and comments. They make me happy. But I want all of us to remember that if life gets in the way, that's a good thing! If we're too busy to read blogs, we shouldn't worry about offending someone. We're just busy living!

I realize all of this is for me (and my fellow worriers) and maybe not for you. So, feel free to giggle and roll your eyes at my neurosis ( I do), and skip on down to the fun little bit of listy goodness I ganked from Ari.

Outside my window…
A mass of fluffy white feathers that are hard to decipher into separate silkie chickens.

I am thinking…
That I need to finish sewing the camera cozy I'm making my mother-in-law, that sabbath is such a sweet bout of sanity in the midst of an always chaotic week, and I like Snow Leopard.

From the kitchen…
I hear bird seed bouncing across the linoleum, and smell hazelnut creme oil burning on the kitchen table.

I am wearing…
Less than I should be. Hey, I'm home sick on a Saturday. Don't judge me.

I am creating…
Water-colored ink drawings that I've deemed "water doodles" to sell on my Etsy shop, a green scarf that I've been "creating" for over half a year now, and a wealth of hand sewn goodies for people I love.

I am going…
To a friend's place tonight, if this cough doesn't completely destroy my voice. I hope Todd will come with me.

I am reading…
The last Twilight book. I should finish it tonight! I've been trying to take it easy. Todd gets a little lonely when I devour 700 page books in a day or two.

I am hearing…
A tall black man singing "My Jesus, I Love Thee" accompanied by piano, and thunder.

Around the house…
Grass, bugs, chickens, dogs and an occasional neighbor person.

One of my favorite things…
Clean pajamas fresh out of the dryer or puppy breath. It's a toss up. I like the combination.

A few plans for the rest of the week…
Complete some of my artsy/craftsy projects, spend time with Jessica and her munchkins, finish Twilight and Harry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban, enjoy Sunday with Todd and sift through a wealth of stuff to be set aside for our upcoming yard sale.

*I read one too many tweets concerning people's annoyance at blogs with music players. :(

Peace At Last.

Hello me lovelies! All apologies for neglecting you so, as of late. What can I say? Life has a way of getting out of hand now and again.

Within the last 2 weeks I:

-attained a new job!

-gave notice to my current employer.

-started the new job!

-resigned from the new job.

-reacquired the old job!

-came down with exudative tonsillitis.

-neglected all creative outlets.

-survived way too much stress.

Amidst all those ups and downs, there were a couple of nights that I let the unknown get the best of me. Quitting one job before having confirmed another is not exactly my cup of tea, but it was something I felt I had to do. So, I did it. Then I freaked out accordingly.

I managed to single handedly destroy my immune system via stress. Thus causing my tonsils to make an attempt on my life. >_<

Worry does NO GOOD. None. Remember that.

So, I am currently very thankful to be updating the old blog here. Even if it does mean germing up the laptop. I have a long weekend to relax, overcome my tonsils, and let everything sink in.

God willing, things are back to how they belong.

Deep Breath. Chin Up.

It is far too late to be posting, but I've got too much to blather about to sleep, or hold it in anymore.

I've got a new job. Great right? Riiiight.

New is good. More money is good. Change? Change is bad. Well, maybe not bad, but certainly not my friend. At least not at the moment.

I am a creature of habit. I know this. The thought of leaving my current coworkers kills me. It feels like there's a great big old hippopotamus sitting on my chest. My heart is heavy, and I can hardly breath.

I just wasn't prepared. I mean, I went to an interview, got turned down. 'Nough said. As soon as the answer was no, I went right on my merry way, back into my routine, thankful that I wouldn't have to change. Then, out of the blue I get a call.

An opportunity has presented itself?! One week's notice?! Umm...well...uh...can I call you back?! Ugh.

So, new job starts on Tuesday. It'll take some getting used to I'm sure, but I think I'll like it. The husband person and I can carpool. I'll not be worried about my little nonprofit closing down on me. Well, I'll worry about them, but not whether I'll be without a paycheck or not anymore.

I'm still going to volunteer to teach art at the shelter, and to transport runaway and homeless youth. So, I'll be helping people. I just worry it won't be enough.

I feel so bad for leaving them. I'll miss them SO much. My heart aches, but I feel as if this job is an answer to prayer. I mean, I ask for The Man with The Plan to help my doddering little self along. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. So, I figure I'll follow someone who does.

Sometimes He surprises me is all.

Deep breath. Chin up.

Here's The Deal

I was totally going to show my blog some love today, but due to circumstances beyond my control, I have no love to give. It seems as though I am in a bit of a melancholy rut, and have nothing nice to say.

So, in short, I am forcing myself to be a wee bit positive. Of all the things that suck right now, I can say that I'm thankful for a whole heck of a lot. Nothing is really all that bad. God is good. He takes care of me. Seriously.

On that note, I am going to bed.

Worry Wart

My Mom always said my Dad was, among other more severe things, a worry wart. I used to wonder if you could actually get warts from worrying, and if so, what toads were so concerned about. When I got past that, I would worry about worrying too much.

At the ripe old age of 26, I've learned that you do not, in fact, get warts from worrying. I know this because I worry more than just about anyone I know, and I don't have the first wart. Which I am incredibly thankful for. The thought of visual consequences to worrying frightens me severely. I wouldn't consider myself to be a vain person, but I don't want to worry myself into a wrinkly wretched old woman. I worry about this.

I worry about: what I am, what I'm not, things I don't understand. You name it. I've probably worried about it. Now I'm worrying about what you'll propose I've worried about. It's a bit neurotic, really.

I love him with all my heart, but sometimes I worry that I'm too much like my father. How you can be so much like someone you barely know amazes me. Despite the lack of his presence in my life, genetics have taken their toll. I look just like him. I inherited his addictive personality. Though, my addictions are limited to: alphabetizing, art, cleaning, critters, nonalcoholic liquids(thank God), and people.

So, warts or no, I worry entirely too much.

What do you worry about? I might need to add it to my list.