Marathon Memories

Today is almost over. It'll probably end before I post this. But still, here I am, on a day I'm sure I've posted about before.

It's Patriot Day in Massachusetts (not to be confused with Patriots Day, which is federal holiday, and something else entirely) and two other states. For me, this morning, that meant that I was very sad, because one more of my old traditions was missing.

On Patriot Day, the Boston Red Sox play an early day game, which lets out just in time for all of the fans to pour out of Fenway Park and go watch the end of the Boston Marathon, for Patriot Day is also Marathon Monday. This was the game that Daddy and I always went to (with one exception that I can remember, although possibly others). We would go, watch the game, watch the Sox kick some ass, and then we'd wander down to catch some marathon runners finishing. Of all the traditions I had with my father, this one I think I cherish the most. More than the boat show, more than father's day car show, more than the Beach Boys, summer cook outs, or going together the the BCF. Patriot Day is our day.

This morning, I posted this as my facebook status

 Today is Marathon Monday, which means I should be with my dad at Fenway Park. We used to go to this game every year and I miss it.

I watched the scores of the game on the MLB app on my phone while I was in class. I watched the Sox win, as they always do on Patriot Day. And then I came home. I turned on my computer to put on some music, and checked my facebook. When I heard the news, there was only one news website who had an article up, and it was only 3 or 4 sentences long. I was one of the first to hear about it. And I was instantly crying. Not sobbing just yet, for I thought it was some sort of accident and I didn't know anyone was hurt. I thought it just scared a bunch of people. So I was crying, and then I found out that people, dozens, were hurt, missing limbs, and I got scared.

My father doesn't break tradition. I couldn't call him. I needed to know if he was okay, but I couldn't call him. I didn't have the guts. What if he didn't answer? What if someone else answered and told me he was hurt. What would I do? I was shaking. It took me three minutes to write a very short text message, but I didn't have the guts to call him.

He was fine. He had broken tradition. Later, I found out cell phone service had been cut off, so if he had been there, he wouldn't have answered. Most of my friends in Boston were on facebook immediately, posting links, expressing fear and outrage and hope that everyone was fine. But one friend, I didn't see among the crowd. I had to go to work, and spent much of the night fighting off the fear and anxiety and the urge to vomit. I put on a good face of fake cheer. Customers probably thought I was just some ditzy girl, but my co-workers were concerned. They knew that my smile was fake, and that I didn't usually make the sort of mistakes I was making over and over and over.

Until finally, the last friend I was worried about posted on facebook about being stranded. And I laughed and laughed, and no one understood when I explained "oh, no, nothing is funny" because I was falling over in hysterical laughter.

But my heart is still breaking. I can't make it stop hurting. That's my home. And they broke it. I could have been there. If I weren't in Virginia, I would have been there, in that very plaza. And I have never been so scared.

Pure Bliss (FloydFest X)

This weekend was amazing. I heard music and danced in the dark until long after midnight. I played in the rain. I sweated like a pig in weather hotter than it should have been. I left my purse, wallet and all, completely unsupervised under a canopy in a crowd of 20,000 people, and didn't worry for a moment. My cell phone's only function for four days was a clock, and we only used the computer for a few moments each morning, to check the weather. Complete strangers offered me several types of drugs, and even though I turned them all down, I still felt completely high. It was a freeing experience, unlike anything I'd ever felt. It was blissful. It felt like childhood, only as an adult. No responsibility, no long-term thoughts. I was completely in-the-moment for the whole weekend.

I don't think I could live like that permanently, or in any long-term sort of situation. It's a relief to be back home. But I understand now. I understand why people make stupid mistakes. Because at the time, they aren't thinking about what'll happen next week. I've always "known" that, in my head, but now, I understand it. I've felt what it is to not be aware of future consequences. Until this past weekend, I can't remember a time where I've ever been so completely in the moment. It's a little scary.

When people offered me drugs, I didn't say "no" because I remembered all the addicts that I knew, or because I remembered what they taught me in school. It wasn't because I feared being arrested, or failing a drug test at work. I said no because the music and the dancing and the darkness already made me feel high. I didn't need the drugs to get the feeling, so I just laughed and said "Thanks, but no thanks." It's scary to look back on. I was totally in the moment and consequences and futures didn't exist for me then. If I had been in another mindset, I could have said yes. I could have ruined everything I ever worked for. But then I remind myself that, if I had been in another mindset, consequences would have existed and I would have said "no" anyways.

There isn't any action that I took this weekend that is different from what it would have been, if I had thought things through. I keep reminding myself of that, telling myself "You didn't do anything wrong. Just enjoy the memory of that pure bliss you felt," and yet, I fear and I worry.

If I lived in that mindset constantly, I could turn into my mother.

K is for Krayzee

What? You think I spelled it wrong? Nope. That's exactly how it's spelled, or at least, I find that people are so nuts that even spelling "crazy" seems too normal for them.

I got to work two minutes late at 4:02. I get my drawer counted and set up, and I'm taking my first order. We're about halfway through when a blond woman walks past the line, and SHOVES my customer aside. She throws an open burger at me, but I try to catch it, miss, and it lands on the counter. "I just came through drive-thru and every fucking time I come in here its like this. Why the hell can't you get my order right, bitch?" she doesn't stop talking but I inturrupt her. "I'm sorry, what's wrong with it, and I'll make you a new one."
"Onions! You didn't put enough damn onions on it. I asked for extra onions, and you're ripping me off. I paid for extra onions."

Now, first of all, extra onions are free, so you didn't pay for extras. Second of all, small sandwiches come with two rings of onion. I'm looking at at least 6. I didn't say that though. Instead I said "alright, extra onions. What sort of sandwich was it?"
"A fucking cheeseburger. I'll have you shut down if you don't make me a new one right now."
"A single or a double cheeseburger?"
"Just a cheeseburger! You know what? I want my money back."
"Alright let me get my manager."
"What are you calling me a liar? I work in law enforcement. I'm a cop. I can get you shut down like THAT!"
"I can't open my drawer without my managers key. If you want your money back, I need to get him."
"Well then tell one of these other idiots to make me my fucking sandwich."

I get my manager, and wait while this is sorted out. Once she finally leaves (oddly enough, without her money OR her sandwich.) I finish taking the order I had stated already. "Sorry about that." I said. and he said "What are you sorry for? You weren't the one who shoved me. Crazy people."

The whole night went on like that. She was not the only person to threaten to shut us down. I also had one customer threaten to have me fired because it took too long (about a minute) to get her drinks done (4 sprites and a shake) and I had one threaten to hit me because I wouldn't give her free food/pay for it myself.

The whole night was ridiculous, or rather Krayzee.

Note: there were some good things. One of my regular customers (who I had previously just thought was overweight because I couldn't really see her figure in her clothes. Turns out she was pregnant) came in with her new baby girl. So tiny and beautiful

A-Z Challenge

I've just signed up for the A-Z Challenge, which, for those who are too lazy to click the link (don't worry, I'd be one of those lazies if I wasn't typing this) is a challenge to write a blog post whose subject starts with the letter of the day, every day of April except sundays.

"But today is april second! You missed a day already!"

Yes, not sorta.... The reason my post is late is the subject of my A-post anyways.

And thesubject is "Abdomen"

I've been sick twice this week. The first time, it was a chest cold, and I got over that fast enough. This time, it was a very very strange pain in my, you guessed it, abdomen. It felt vaguely like a sore throat, only in my stomach. That same burn-y feeling, pain. It didn't come with any nausea, but it hurt like hell.

It came on really suddenly, when I was at work. One moment I was standing around, washing trays. It was so sudden and such a sharp pain that I gasped. I doubled over. I thought "It came on suddenly, maybe it'll leave just as suddenly." but after 45-minutes of walking around bent in half I decided I needed to go home. I didn't feel sick. I just hurt, and I felt silly as crap asking my boss to send me home because of it. But walking bent over wasn't working. I was dropping things, and spilling things. I was a mess.

When I called Jeffrey, he thought it was appendicitis, rushed me to the hospital, and did some weird press-on-my-belly test that apparently doctors and triage nurses do. I didn't have appendicitis, so we didn't go into the hospital. We went home.

It was so bad, that I ended up crying after a while. I just couldn't handle it. Jeffrey decided that it might be an ulcer. His mom said it might be some stomach or intestinal virus. I didn't care. I just wanted it to stop..... and then it did. It just went numb. It was the weirdest thing. Totally completely couldn't feel anything. It was like a giant hole in the middle of my abdomen. Gone. It was the weirdest thing ever. You never realize how much you are aware of your stomach until you suddenly aren't.

I went to bed. What else could I do with a numb stomach? I didn't want to eat, in case it was a virus (didn't want what I ate coming out in an unpleasant way) and if it was an ulcer, those hurt more a while after you eat. And the numbness just freaked me out.

I woke up this morning feeling normal. A but hungry, but my stomach just felt like a stomach. Nothing weird has happened to it all day. No pain, no numbness. Just normal. So we're good.

First Day of a New Job

Today was my first day working at my new job. My managers are nice, my co-workers are wonderful. The work itself (fast food. Today they had me on the fryer) isn't bad at all. It smells wonderful where I stand. Like hamburgers, because the grill is right near me.

But a little while into my shift, my vision started to go dark and fuzzy. I felt fine, otherwise, so I figured it was just a little spell. No big deal, happens all the time. I stepped away from the fryer, towards the register, thinking that getting away from the heat might help. One of my co-workers saw that I looked a little weak, and offered to walk me out of the kitchens. I said I was fine, but she grabbed my arm, and started leading me away anyways.

Turns out, the front was a good idea. Before we got out of the kitchen, I apparently passed out completely. From my memory, one minute I was walking, the next I was sitting on a bench at a table, and my manager was sitting beside me, on the phone, apparently, calling an ambulance for me.

I felt fine, before I passed out, other than the fact that my vision was almost totally gone. After wards, I felt sort of like I had the flu. I was tired, my limbs felt heavy, the light was too bright, and my body was just generally "uncomfortable." I wasn't really in pain, but just.... I felt off, bad. Something wasn't right. My coworker (the same one who decided to get me out of the kitchen) got me a glass of water, which I downed in an instant. The emergency personnel showed up, took my pulse, blood pressure, and asked me a whole bunch of questions. I decided not to go to the hospital with them. I don't have health insurance. I couldn't afford it. I wanted to go. Knew better.

I realized, while they were asking me questions, that I couldn't remember drinking anything all day, except for my morning coffee. I decided I was dehydrated. I was sent home from work an hour and 40 minutes early.

Horribly embarrassing. Horribly uncomfortable. Horribly stupid.

So much for making a good first impression.

Now, I'm just hoping that my self-diagnosis is right, and that i'm fine tomorrow, after a billion gallons of water.

Grouchy

Today and yesterday, I woke up at 5, was at work at 6, got off work at 10, came home, and spent the afternoon melting outside. I was running a yard sale for my mother. According to weather.com the high yesterday in my zip code was 88. Today was even worse (although I think it was also more humid today, so that might be a contributing factor). I don't like being hot. I get very sick very quickly, no matter how much water I drink.

Before I agreed to sit out there roasting all day, my mother told me that if we made less than $100, I could keep all of it. She wasn't interested in making money. She just wanted to get rid of all this old stuff that we wont use, but other people might. We made $57, total, about $10 of which was made by selling things that Jeffrey and I had bought ourselves but no longer wanted. Then my mom told my sister she could have $25, leaving me with $32. Fine. Then my mom told me that I had to buy cheese and potato chips, and she told me that she would be pissed if it took more than 5 minutes for me to get to the store and back. There is only one store close close enough for me to get there and back in that time. I got there, cheese was $5, and chips were $4. Over priced, but I was in a rush. Okay. I still had $21. I was a little annoyed, but I was still okay. $21 is still a little more than I had two days ago. Every penny counts.

About half an hour after I got back from the store, she calls me down again. "You didn't buy milk when you were out, did you?"
"No, but what's it matter. I can just drink my coffee black in the morning."
"I'm going to be really pissed," she said, "if my fridge doesn't have milk in it tonight."
"Why? I'm the only one who even drinks it."
"I want some."
"So that means I have to go up to the store?" I was trying my best to weasle my way out of it. I should have known it wouldn't work.
"Either go to the store, or I'm going to be angry."
"Alright." I said. I paused, hoping that she would offer me some money, but after a moment things got awkward, and I went to go get some of the yard sale money. Milk here, at any store, is around $3.50 give or take a quarter. Just before I left I went back downstairs. No way was I going to the store AGAIN.

"Before I go, I need to know if there's anything else you want. I don't want to make another trip to the store." I said. Her eyebrows rose up, the way they do when she's getting pissed. "Anything you need before I go?" I asked again, this time in a little sweeter tone.
"Yeah, actually. Can you get me two packs of cigarettes."
"Sure," I said, although I wasn't happy about what she wanted. I am rather proud to say I have never bought a pack of cigarettes in my life. "Can I have some money?" I asked. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw tightened. Quickly I corrected myself. "I mean, i dont mind buying food and stuff, but like, cigarettes I just.... I don't want to pay for your cigarettes."
"Well never mind then. I don't have any cash and I'm NOT giving my card to you." It wasn't so much what she said that bothered me, but the tone she said it in. The way she said you as if I were some kind of scum. As if I would steal her money or something. I was absolutely FUMING! The cigarettes she smokes are $8 a pack. If I had bought those and the milk I would have been left with a little over a dollar.

So I went and bought milk. She made dinner, but didn't call me down to eat. Eventually Jeffrey and I went down to get food, and even though she spoke to him several times, she ignored every attempt at conversation I made. Silent treatment. Again.

And the kicker to it all? My mom is now asleep, and I just opened the milk.

I'm rather grumpy now.

Explosion.

Last night, at around 8:30, I started to a blog post about my mom. I'm really getting sick of her on/off drinking. I'm tired of knowing she downed a half liter bottle in one day, and then watching her hands shake all the next day.  I'm tired of knowing that the colds she keeps getting, causing her to spend the day sleeping, are actually hangovers. I want to do something about it. Talking to her didn't work last time I tried. I don't know of another way of doing it, without uprooting my family.

Right now though, it doesn't matter anymore, what the right thing to do is. Right now, I'm too hurt to even think about doing anything. I just want to cry. I'm hoping that sharing will help. There was a huge fight last night, and the only way that I think I can feel better is to type out the whole thing bit by bit.


I wake up at 5am to go to work, so I try to get in bed by 10. Last night, dinner was late (9) and I went immediately from dinner to showering. I planned to go straight to bed after. When I got out of the shower, though, my sister said my mom was looking to talk to all three of us at the same time.


She started SCREAMING at us, all three of us, for not unloading the dishwasher. I was annoyed. I hate being yelled at. I told her, as politely as I could, that in the future, she can tell us without yelling. Turns out, there isn't really a polite way to say that.


She didn't let any of us get up to do the dishwasher, even though her open floor plan would have allowed for someone to do the dishwasher, while being yelled at. She turned to Amanda and went off on her too. Manda had just been on vacation for 3 weeks, and had forgotten that she had a new once-a-week chore. She was only told about this chore a few days before she left. She hadn't even had a chance to do it for the first time.


My mom yelled at Amanda for a few minutes, and poor Manda had no idea what my mom was yelling at her about. She didn't remember at all what her chore was. And my mom kept making her guess what she was supposed to be doing. Eventually I blurted it out, and my mom flipped out on me again.

She kept switching back and forth, from yelling at me to yelling at Manda. After a few minutes of back and forth, Manda said something that broke my heart. "I should have just jumped off the roof that day. I should have just killed myself when I had the chance." I remember that day. I was in Virginia still, but my mom called me to tell me what was going on. It terrified me then, but hearing it come from Manda's own mouth was worse.

And they started arguing more, but I couldn't handle it any more. I started screaming, that I couldn't do it. That I couldn't listen to them argue like this. My mom said "This is hte only way we can fix this! We have to have this argument!" and I told her that I couldn't. I could handle the chore argument. I couldn't handle listening to her screech at my sister, and really really couldn't handle listening to my sister half-threaten suicide. When I started yelling, Lauren burst into tears too. Now all four of us were crying.

I walked off, and my mom told me that if I left, I wasn't coming back, and I would have to move out. I changed my mind mid-step, but kept walking, turning towards the bathroom to blow my nose, which was running because I was crying.

I spent as much time as I could blowing my nose, and blowing as loud as I could to drown them out.

I stopped blowing just in time to hear Manda say "I hate it here. I hate everyone in this family. I never have felt like I belonged. None of you like me."

And somehow, even though I was angry at my mother, I started shouting at my sister. I love her. She didn't seem to get that. Instead she mentioned something that a non-family member had said to her, about how she was going to ruin everyone she came in contact with.

No matter what I said, it didn't matter. She repeated herself several times about how we all hated her, and how it was our fault that she hated herself. I kept repeating myself too. "What about me? Don't you know I don't hate you? I love you, Manda." It didn't seem to do any good.

Meanwhile, my mom was still yelling, yelling over us, and ignoring the fact that this was happening. She kept yelling at Manda about her chores. I interrupted again, just about as loud as I could, which wasn't very loud because my throat was hurting already from crying. "This is why I can't listen to you two argue. Do you hear what Manda is saying? Do you hear what you're saying? I can't do this!"

And then I apologized to Manda, because I really was sorry. I had never ever meant to let her feel that way. I wish I had known a long time ago that she felt that way, and I can't help but blame myself. I went over to give manda a hug with my apology. She pushed me away and wouldn't even look at me.

I tried to redeem myself. Instead of running away from it, like I wanted to, I stayed. I stood up for them. But it was too little, too late. And then when my mom finally let us go, I emptied the dishwasher, and had to go to bed. I couldn't even stay up to make my sisters feel better. Manda was still crying when I went to bed.

And now my mother is giving all of us the silent treatment, which just really PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF! I can understand her giving it to me. After I apologized to Manda, I tore my mother a new one. But Manda and Lauren, I just don't understand. Lauren didn't even do anything. Manda got angry with her, but Manda is just a kid. Was she out of line? Yes. Both of them were. Is this a good way for my mother to handle it? No, not at all.

As I was writing this, Manda messaged me and told me she thinks my mom is drinking. I already know she is, and so does Lauren. My sisters and I are going to have a talk all together soon to figure out what to do. I want to call DCF/DSS/whatever, and get them out of here. But I know that when I was there age, I would have hated if anyone did that to me. So I want to know what they want. I'm moving out soon anyways, so all that matters to me is that they are okay once I leave. And I want them to know that I will ALWAYS be there for them. That I love them.

This is NOT a good situation.

Phone Call

Last night I asked my mom if I could have a day off. I have been working, for work, for her, for my dad, and to move my own things, without a single day off for a month and a half now. I just needed one day where I didn't have to do anything for strenuous than taking out the trash adn wahsing the dishes. She was cool with it, my dad was cool with it, and I wasn't working today.

Today at 5:16, I got a phone call from my mother. She asked me to bring her anxiety medication to the police department. Last night, she let someone borrow her car overnight. They were supposed to return it at 1pm. Several times throughout the afternoon I had gone downstairs, each of which she mentioned that she didnt have her car back. She called them at least twice that I witnessed. Once at around 3:30, and once at about 4:45. The second conversation consisted of her yelling "BRING MY FUCKING CAR HOME!" For those of you  who don't know my mom, it probably wont phase you. For those of you who do, you're probably gaping at the screen. My mother does. not. swear..... EVER. 

Fast forward to the phone call and I figure, she went to the police station to file a report that her car was stolen, and that her anxiety attack was related to the stress of not having her car. For some reason, I couldn't find my shoes, so I went downstairs to borrow my sister's, grabbed my moms medication, and we went to the police station.

The lobby is empty. I look around and don't know where to go, so I stand there for a few moments awkwardly. Eventually an officer comes and asks me what's going on. "Um, I'm looking for my mom. She asked me to bring her anxiety pills here." And then, I used my moms full name. My mothers name is Margaret, but she goes by Peggy. I don't know why I used her full name instead of saying Peggy or Peg, but I startled myself by saying it.

Of course, the officer startled me more. "Oh yes. Did you bring any money?"
"Money?"
"She didn't ask you to bring money?"
"No. What for?"
"She didn't tell you?"
Of course by this point, I'm totally confused. I get this bad feeling in my gut, and don't say a thing.
"She's been arrested." he says. "Why don't I go ask her what she wants from you."
He goes. He comes back and hands me her debit card. "She says she has $260 in her bank account. She can be bailed out for that. She says go get $260. Use her savings account, not her checking. Do you know her PIN number?"
Apparently, when I'm under stress, I focus more on grammar than what people actually mean by their comments. I thought for a moment about the phrase "PIN number" before realizing what he asked.
"Oh, uh, yeah."

So we went to the nearest ATM, got stuck and traffic, and showed back up 45 minutes later. I gave the officer the money and asked what my mother had been arrested for. He told me he wasn't allowed to tell me but that it was minor, and I could come back in about half an hour to get her. I told him to have her call me when she needed a ride. We live less than half a mile from the police station, so I figured the 1minute wait for us to drive down wouldn't be too bad, and it would save me some waiting if things took longer.

Its a good thing I didn't just head down there after half an hour. We didn't get called back for another hour and a half. Meanwhile, my little sister asked to go to a friends house. I told her she could go, but I wasn't sure she was allowed to sleep over. I told her I'd have Mumma call when she got home. I didn't tell my sister where my mom was. I had serious issues with lying to her, but I didn't want to put her in panic mode, if it turns out that she had been arrested for something stupid. I figured, if it was a major problem, I could talk to my sister later.

I finally get a phone call from my mom. And my dad. And my sister, all three calls within 1 minute of each other. My sister called to ask if my mom was home. While I was on the phone with her my dad beeped in. So I got off the call with my sister and talked to my dad. Then my mom beeped in.

We pick her up. I'm in panic mode, and super jealous of the fact that she has pills to help with her anxiety. I thought I was going to puke. Finally I ask her what happened.

Her car insurance was canceled because they couldn't find record of a fine she paid 9 years ago. They thought it was somehow outstanding, and canceled her insurance. At some point, she got her car back, and went to the store to buy milk. Another car, a giant SUV, backed into her, the trailer hitch got caught under her car, and totaled it. Luckily, there was an officer in the parking lot who saw the accident. To collect from the SUV drivers insurance, there needs to be a police report. That was easy enough to file with him right there. Then, as they were filing, he realized my mothers insurance was invalid.

And then they took her to the station, and she called me.

So much for a relaxing day.

This Week in BOATKICKERVILLE

Weekly postives cancelled. Too much going on. Too overwhelmed. Short run down

1) Moving means that you will not sit down at all during the day between the time you wake up, and 10pm. It's tiring. Too tired, besides being generally uncomfortable, also means that i get these lovely little mood swings.
2) Moving also means that your legs will declare war on you because you go up and down the stairs too much. I hurt all over.
3) My dad takes on too much at once.
4) My mom may be lying to me about something important (no, not the drinking for once), which makes me angry.
5) She may not be lying. I also feel guilty
6) For the fifth damn day in a row, I have been so busy I forgot to call my sister. Her bed time at my aunts house is 8:30, and I dont usually think of it until nine. I miss her. I also feel like a shitty big sister.
7) I finally saw my best friend, who I hadn't seen in almost a year!
8) my room looks like a cross between a storage unit, a child's play room, a bedroom, and a laundry room. Make of that what you will.
9) The weather is hot. The tourists are coming, and it's good to be home. I smell the salt. I want to go swimming.

THE END

Busy Weekend

It's been a busy busy busy weekend. I did that one update on my blog, and that took up almost all my free time this entire weekend.

Saturday morning I got a sunburn! No, actually saturday morning was my wonderful fiance Jeffrey's graduation. I'm super proud of him. He was recognized separately from the rest of the students graduating in his major, because he was named Deans Scholar, among other honors. Meanwhile, my sunscreen apparently was faulty. Brand new that morning, applied twice in 6 hours, and yet I still got a KILLER sunburn. It still hurts terribly.

My mother and one of my sisters came down for his graduation and stayed around Sunday. I'm not sure my mom had a good time. She seemed to be enjoying herself but every now and then she'd get really quiet and look annoyed. I wonder if its because we were always in a big crowd, and she and I got no one-on-one time. I guess that's my fault, for suggesting she stay at Jeffrey's grandma's house. It was nice though. I had a great weekend with my sister and mom, and mothers day was fun.

Today though, today was a scary day for me. I am (was?) taking four classes. Three of my final exams were scheduled for today. History, which I was not worried about. English, which I was mostly not worrysome, but my teacher is a grammar-lover, and she has all sorts of fancy grammar terms which I never knew. I knew how to use proper grammar, and I knew what was wrong and why, but I never knew things had fancy names. I was afraid I'd forget some of those. Then I had Physics, which SCARED THT CRAP OUT OF ME! I was sure I was going to fail it. I didn't know electricity. I barely knew waves. Lenses? Mirrors? GAH!  On top of all I had no sleep for two days (the sunburn is all over my back and shoulders. I am one of those toss-in-your-sleep types, and each time I'd try to roll I'd wake myself up in pain. Not fun!) I had no time to study over the weekend, because of all the events and familyness. I was sure I was going to fail everything.

But it turns out, the history test was as easy as I predicted. The English test was better than I thought (mostly she asked us about how the rules worked, and not what they were called. yay!) and the physics test. Oh boy. It was crazy. And by crazy, I mean EASY! It was the easiest test I had taken in that class all semester. I was so relieved.

After doing so well on my exams, while being tired and in sunburn pain, I feel like I can do anything! So what am I going to do now? Now I have made an official statement to write 500-1000 words of The Circle before bedtime. And not just any words, but good words. Ones that make sense. I feel like I can do anything!

Why I hate having an anxiety disorder.

About two years ago I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Of course, because I was a minor at the time, and because excess anxiety makes me sometimes come off as a basket-case, no one told me anything about it. Just "You've got this disorder, but we don't think your case is severe enough to need treatment." Everything I know about it, besides the name, has been from Google.

Cool thanks. Now I've got fancy words that may or may not be the reason I can't make a phone call without feeling like I'm having a heart attack. Now I have words to explain that when you ask me a question and I'm not expecting it, my mind goes blank even if I know the answer. Even if it's something obvious like my name. If you put me on the spot enough, I do not know ANYTHING! Now I have a diagnosis that says "This is why you wont turn in any school assignments that you haven't thoroughly edited." I now have a piece of paperwork that means that my absurdly irrational fears are noted.

Let me tell you, a diagnosis doesn't help. In fact, it might even make things worse. Today I started panicking. I'm trying to transfer colleges. I need to ask for recommendations. I need to call my current college, and my high school and get my transcripts. Remember me mentioning irrational fears? I have a whole list of them. One of the hardest ones to live with is the fear of making phone calls to strangers or near-strangers. So I had to make three phone calls (recommendation, transcript, transcript). My heart was racing.

Then I have to write this essay to transfer. That's fine, except that I had already done one and a half drafts. In the first one, I sound depressed. Not just depressed, but almost suicidal. I'm not. I'm quite content actually. That essay got scrapped. I started a second one. Great, now I sounded like I'm bragging. Overcompensate much? I was panicing more. Cue the nausea.

I thought maybe I would calm myself down my eating an ice cream cone. I checked my bank account. $1005. I thought I had about $100 more than that. I had been keeping track of my account in my head, and forgot to subtract the money that my ipod had cost. Crap. Panic.

I suddenly remembered that I still had homework to do for two classes, and I fell apart. If I didn't do that homework I wouldn't get an A. If I didn't get an A no colleges would want me. If no colleges want me, then I'll never get my degree and I'll never become a teacher and I'll be a failure at life. It didn't matter to me that the work wasn't (isn't) due until Monday and Tuesday. That was it. I get restless when I'm in that state. I had to move. Had to walk. So I did. I slammed my laptop shut, shoved it in my backpack and RAN out of the mall. Bad idea. It hurt.

Ouch, I thought, because of my hurt hip. Then my diagnosis came floating back to me. "Anxiety Disorder" floated through my brain. Great, I thought, I'm a crazy. I can't even control my own actions. I don't even have the presence of mind to not run after I hurt myself. How can I ever expect to be a normal human being if I keep collapsing due to stupid things? Everyone has to do these sorts of things, and if I can't keep it together I must be crazy. I must be useless. And besides, what kind of person doesn't take responsibility for their actions? Its my fault I'm falling apart. Not this disorders. Only very weak people blame things beyond their control. I must be weak if I think that its the disorders fault. I must be worthless.

You see where that's going. I walked around the outside of the mall doing this. (As a side note, I realized today that this mall is HUGE. It took me 15 minutes to make the loop, and I wasn't exactly walking slow. I was as close to running as I could get without hurting my hip.)

By the time I got back to the doors I had ran from earlier I was better. I was still very angry with myself, but I wasn't panicky. I was just plain old angry. I will take angry any day over fear. Anger is easier to get rid of. I am a lot better at forgiving than I am at trying to NOT PANIC OVER STUPID THINGS! The moment I say those words to myself, or anything like them, that's about when I lose it. Funnily enough, when a serious situation comes up, I'm pretty good about not panicking. I can handle fear, or at least I can mask it. My heart rate might go up when I'm scared. I might get nauseous. Hell, I might even puke if I'm that terrified. But when it's a rational fear, I know there should an equally rational solution. It's when I'm 100% aware that my fear is unfounded that I lose it. When your fear doesn't make sense, how can you fix it. And the "not-knowing-what-to-do" factor is what gets me. It's the straw that breaks my back.

I still absolutely hate my diagnosis. Maybe it's better to know what specifically is wrong with me, but maybe not. Maybe I'd rather pretend that all people turn to jello at the thought of making a phone call. Maybe I want to get rid of my diagnosis and say "I'm in control!"

But unfortunately, I can't get rid of it, any more than you can get rid of cancer by denying it. I've been having these awful anxiety attacks since I was a little girl. I have tried denying them, and that did me no good. So now they have a name. Great. Thanks for that entirely USELESS bit of information.

I think that when I get back to Mass (read: when I get back to a place where I have health insurance) I'm going to start going to some sort of therapist. I've gone back and forth with this for a while. My last therapist told me that my mother was right to kick me out for not having a job. She told me that I was greedy, and stubborn and had a very inaccurate view of my family. (This bothered me particularly much since she at the time she said it, she hadn't spoken to anyone but my father, and she'd only spoken to him for about 15 minutes, outside of scheduling appointments.)

But I do know that different types of therapy work for different people, so I'm going to go with that and try again.

A Second Blog and a Funny Event

I'm starting a second blog. This second blog will be devoted entirely to my writing, editing, submitting, finger-crossing, publishing, and reading. I might do book reviews. I might talk about things that inspire me. I might whine about some chapter that just wont work!

Anyways, it's called Making Waves and the link is here. You probably should wait a few days before you look at it though, because right now I haven't started posting, or chosen a template for it, or anything. Its just a lot of blank white space.

Yesterday was a crazy day, lot of ups and downs. I don't really want to talk about the downs yet, but I will tell you one of the ups. The place where I usually sit has two chairs against the wall,with a table between them. It looks almost like a waiting room. I will get a picture in an hour for you.

Yesterday, a guy was sitting in one of the chairs reading a book. He appeared to be alone, so I sat down in the other chair. There's a plug there beside one of the chairs and my laptop needed charging. I get myself settled in, start doing my usual computer stuff, and a few moments later a girl walks around the corner. She looks at the guy and goes "What are you doing?" He looks up at her and tells her that he's reading. She FLIPS OUT! She starts yelling at him for being with another girl. For cheating on him with ME! On one hand I felt bad for sitting there without checking with him, and for getting him in trouble with his girlfriend. On the other hand, it was HILARIOUS! We weren't even acknowledging the others presence, but somehow that's cheating....?

It brought a laugh to my otherwise less-than-happy day.

NO BATHROOM IN MY BATHROOM!

Yesterday was crazy, up and down. I wrote lots of half blog posts, and then I came home, and realized that my bathroom had no bathroom inside.

Apparently, at around 1pm my landlord decided that they wanted to replace the floor in my bathroom. Apparently my toilet had been leaking underneath the linoleum and it was rotten. How they figured that out, I don't know. But it was true. So they took out the toilet, soaking my bathroom (again!) and getting sewage on some of the laundry that I had left in there. I guess this is why hampers were invented. Jeffrey was home for about 5 minutes but had to rush off to a meeting. They didn't talk to him, or even let him get the clothes out of the bathroom.

The maintenance men leave at 5pm. So does the landlord. We got home at about 5:15 to find the bathroom door in the living room, the toilet in the bathtub, dirty clothes in the sink. A dirty bathmat on the living room floor. And no note. And nothing covering the toilet drain. You ALWAYS cover the toilet hole. I learned that when I was about 8 years old. If you don't cover it you house will fill up with methane.

Not. Cool. I thought "maybe they went out to get a new wax ring for the toilet," my dad said "maybe they took a dinner break." We called the emergency maintenance line (no one answers the regular line after 5) and got no answer. It becomes 6pm. Then almost 7. We decided to go out. Somewhere with public bathrooms, since we couldn't use one at home. Fast food. Wal-mart. 9pm the maintenance people FINALLY call us back. What if it had been a REAL emergency? They told us they'd pay for a hotel. It was late. We decided not to bother.

It sucks that we have no toilet and no bathtub. I do not approve.

On the bright side, yesterday my new ipod came in the mail. And so did the new sim card for my cell phone. YAY!