(De)Evolution.

October 3, 2010 Leave a comment

When I got here I would job search everyday, submit everyday, try everyday.

Since Trav had his surgery and we’ve been home together 24/7, I’ve applied for a job. A job. Not a typo, singular.

I’m not entirely sure what all happened. We’ve explored more options. I want to go to school to be a nurse. I feel I’ve become lazy, though I know when my savings have been utterly bled dry I’ll despise myself for my prior lack of ambition. I have allowed myself to melt into this relationship. Before, I would have run by now. Not gonna lie, sometimes it still crosses my mind. There have been times when I maybe only hinted at it, but had my bags packed. By default, I’m ready to bolt, and ready to not be loved. This is different. We want it to be ordinary, but it’s not. Stupid love.

My mom saw “Runaway Bride” and we talked soon after…she told me I reminded her exactly of that. She called me the runaway bride. She’s right, frontwards and backwards and sideways, she’s right. It hurt my feelings, yes, but that woman knows me more and better than anyone can and will, and when she hands over something like that, I get it. I deserve it. And I do, I run. I push away when happy knocks at my door, and I run when it’s too real. If it all feels too good to be true, I sabotage it. Not fully on purpose, but without fail, I ruin life. I’m sure my new lack of job-applying ambition is some sort of self sabotage, as well…I sure wouldn’t put it past me.

(in)dependence.

September 27, 2010 Leave a comment

I never knew how much I would miss feeling independent. I tried to imagine, but nothing can quite prepare you for dependence.

I volunteered in a nursing home for years. I delivered mail, mainly. There was a blind woman whom I read her mail to. Another woman only trusted me, so would have me change her wet sheets each day, never wanting to admit she needed adult diapers. Another had Alzheimers so badly…oh how I loved her. Lucille. On great days she was nice to me and thought I was her daughter. On bad days she cursed a lot and thought I was trying to steal from her.

In college, I worked at a home for adults with developmental disabilities – I cooked for them, changed their diapers, bathed them. I listened to them talk in the way one could only talk when their mind has already ventured elsewhere…in a way that I wouldn’t want their kids to hear them talk. It wasn’t really them anymore. I loved them, deeply. I joked with them, watched Lifetime movies with them, dressed them for bed and tucked them in (a very intimate thing to do for another human being)…they were my family.

I worked with a boy with autism for the past year. Goddamn disease. He is one of the most amazing humans alive, and that fucking disease lowers him to where life can’t fully connect with him…lucky for the rest of us, he can still touch us, connect with us. That, he did. Beyond words, I love that boy. He’s 17, but mostly explodes into your heart as a 3 year old. His 6’2″ frame and 200+ lbs are the only things indicating his age…sometimes, when he’s sleepy and happy, he’ll hide under the blankets and play peek-a-boo with you, laughing…the most engaging and musical noise your ears will hear. Pushing that boy in a swing and letting him play in water…knowing that, you know joy at it’s core. It’s the most beautiful thing to actually see with your own eyes.

What I’m getting at, is that sometimes we, inevitably, fall into dependence. Luckily at some of those stages we aren’t aware of it. Unfortunately, sometimes we are. And sometimes, god love us, we do it because we so fully want to believe in the next step. We want to throw our heart and bank and trust into it with full force, giving it far too much power.

I gave up independence for de…I’m not sure it’s ‘me.’ It makes me uncomfortable…a tiny sweaty at times. Thing is, I’m living. I’m following some path, right or not, and I’m listening to my gut. And no matter what I do, it can be undone…redone…I can still go back to me. I never want to be so dependent that I can’t get me back.

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Job searching…

September 18, 2010 Leave a comment

is so demoralizing. I know all of the Stuart Smalley stuff…I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and dog-gone it, people like me…but you need way more than that to keep your spirits up in the economy today.

I’m honest, smart, personable, loyal, and hardworking…but I need to get an actual interview to show you that. I’m trying to not let you, but you’re working hard at breaking my spirit, world. Gimmie a break, eh?

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Angry tears

September 7, 2010 Leave a comment

Yesterday I had to pick up a prescription for the first time since moving here. I feel dumb for getting it, I know it’s something I could do without, but I had no idea how much it would be until checking out, and Travis wouldn’t let me not get it. Thing is, I’ve been taking birth control since I was sixteen. I don’t know my body without it.

Before moving here, I had lovely state insurance that still made it fairly expensive, I thought, at around $25/mo. Here? Here I have a crap for insurance personal policy that costs me 4-5 times what my other cost/mo, and I’m terrified to use it.

Back to the pharmacy counter. $75.00 for birth control. I could feel tears stinging the backs of my eyes. I quickly signed my name, turned toward the toothpaste and Depends, and then they came. Poor Travis…now by the Ensure and hemorrhoid cream, he turned to me and saw the silently streaming tears. After reassuring me it would be ok, we would be ok, we’re not going to be living in the street in a month (and that neither will I), I was able to calm down a bit.

Then, later, I got wicked pissed. Furious. How are “they” able to charge a woman $75 fucking dollars for birth control. For a ONE MONTH SUPPLY of birth control. Are you fucking kidding me?!?! Yeah, it’s making me feel the need, the actual need, to use the word ‘fuck’ a lot. They should be knocking on people’s doors, handing out year supplies at a time. Viagra is covered by insurance, and a little girl in CA is crying because she can’t afford being socially responsible?! Go to hell. That shit is ridiculous. Makes me so angry I want to scream. Like, my blood hurts. URGH. Granted, I’m not married so I shouldn’t even be partaking in the premarital affairs but, you know, I’m a very risque blogger.

So, until the man pulls his head out of his ass, I’ll be here, hoping to try/be able to afford goddamn birth control. Responsibility can be a real assface.

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People who work…

August 26, 2010 Leave a comment

…dream of having time off, of being unemployed to pursue their hopes and dreams, their hobbies…

People who are unemployed dream of working. Of making money, of contributing monetarily to their household.

I would like to find the satisfying balance. I’ll let you all know when it happens. I certainly find useful ways to fill my days: rearranging furniture and cleaning, snieaking in real time with GTD, making lunch for the following day for Travis to take to work, then dinner, as well (I try to make each meal be a newish one, knowing I would tire of the dinner/leftover, dinner/leftover routine myself, after a few days), reading/research, breathing in, really deep and strong, the fresh ocean air…I’m hard at work on my health and my state of mind, and…and…and…you get the picture.

Anyway. Head to sleep, it’s late.

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Day one.

August 2, 2010 Leave a comment

Today is my first seemingly real day of unemployment. Travis left for work and…I’m here. Just, here. I have a list:
1. Find a new bank.
2. Create perfect resume.
3. Couple mile walk
4. Get eclair cake recipe
5. Make cucumber and onion salad
6. Tidy up kitchen
7. Living room

I’ve never had time before. It’s foreign and beautiful.

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here’s the thing…

July 12, 2010 Leave a comment

Yesterday, I went shopping with my sister (in law, from now on, I’d just like to refer to her as my sister). I needed new sneaks. The ones I have hurt my feet. When I run or walk for the exermacise, my arches hurt, literally HURT, and my knees hurt and it sucks.
So, we went shopping. I needed new shoes. I found some that are lightweight, that have good support, that are good for my feets. I felt soooooo guilty to have found shoes, and how much they cost. I texted the hubs to ask him if I could purchase the shoes. What?! Did it. He said “sure.” I asked if he was upset and he said “I’m not the boss.” BUT, he is. That’s the thing. I feel like he is the boss, because he still makes the money. I don’t.
So, that’s the thing. I have to give in, I need to give in. I, currently, am the other half of a couple now. I need to learn about this shit, we work hard – we argue, we talk, we work on it. I’m a super lucky girl. I nabbed a good one. No, a great one. Things will be ok. Deep breaths. Take my hand, let’s do this.

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