Humbled

When life decides you need a good kick in the ass.

Well this year has been full of adventures so far. Some good, some bad, all unquestionably different. I've definitely grown as a person and tested the limits of what I can handle, albeit involuntarily. I'm also pretty sure I've aged about 1000 years. And, I'm not sure if you've ever experienced aging 1000 years, but it takes its toll on a girl. Then people ask what it feels like or tell you they understand and you want to fall into a fit of either laughter or crying. 

As referenced, I always get very anxious when I have to visit the doctor again. This time was no different, especially since it's the first time I actually met the rheumatologist. He was a very pleasant, helpful, kind man, so that helped. What didn't help was that my appointment was at 10:00, they told me I needed to be there 10 minutes early, and I didn't see the doctor until 11:00. (Is that an American thing? Why do they do that? Rude.) 
Instead of saying things were going as expected, and maybe we should switch treatment, he added more pills. I now take 6 pills a day. SIX.PILLS. I know that it could be much worse, but that's a bit ridiculous. And one of them is for anxiety, because stress makes autoimmune way worse. So now I stress over normal stuff, but I've added stressing about being stressed, and stressing over trying not to stress. 
Plus, the pills made my stomach feel terrible for a while. I think I've figured that out, but I have to be careful to pay attention to different times to take some of them. It's all actually a bit laughable. Oh, bother. 

Earlier this week, I went to the eye doctor and had to get my eyes dilated for the first time. While waiting for the drops to kick in, I had to sit out in the lobby. I felt so embarrassed, kind of muntant-y, as my pupils got bigger; then it started to hurt. Of course it was sunny so everything was just so bright and harsh. I had a feeling of being pitiable, small, and worthless. The good news is that the autoimmune medication I'm on isn't messing my eyes up so far. 
I still had to try and act like an adult when I got home, which meant taking care of the dog. She has a bit of a ritual where she'll go out and sniff some, relieve herself, and do sprints (I call it running laps) on some of our 5 acres. I think she took advantage of my sight limitation and disappeared. I called for a few minutes and tried to stumble in the direction she started off, then I sat on the back of my car and whimpered. The feeling from earlier returned, just an utter downtrodden-ness She came back a little later all pleased that she got to run. Jerk.

This is a transition.

I've written about Meredith and Darryl before, but I'm not sure how long ago it was. I've known Meredith since high school (roughly 12 years). Meredith met Darryl one St. Patrick's day when I begged her to go bar-hopping, and somehow got her to agree. At one bar, I'd said something stupid (I'm good at that), Darryl's brother heard and made fun of me, the invited us to join their group for some more bar-hopping, and the two of them exchanged numbers at the end of the night. When they had their first date, I did her makeup and helped her pick out an outfit. I've listened to their relationship ups and downs, and gotten crying phone calls countless times over the last 3-ish years. 
A few weeks ago he asked her to marry him. It was exciting, but we all really knew it was coming. I also knew the need for help would be coming. I got emails, texts, more exasperated phone calls; asking about colors and venues and themes. I was waiting for one phone call in particular. 

I got that phone call the same night I went to the eye doctor. I had spent much of that evening trying to keep myself from crying since my eyes were already jacked up. Meredith called, and I could immediately tell something was wrong. We went through initial pleasantries, then she started to tell me that she called to ask me something. I told her that was fine, but we first needed to talk about why she'd been crying. Cause I'm a good friend. She told me what had been going on, we went back and forth, I calmed her down. Then she got to the point. What I'd been waiting for and expecting for a while. 
Except...she asked me to be her wedding stage manager. Her...what? Is that even a thing? I think she made that shit up! I'm glad she didn't ask me in person; I don't think I would have been able to hide my shock and dismay. I told her that, of course, I'd do whatever she needed me to. After I hung up the phone, I immediately regretted it. And the more I thought about it, the more I regretted it. 

Today was my first day as her servant/slave/bitch. I went to her parents house and we looked at different colors and such. I started to write down the names of her bridesmaids and ask what their tasks would be. She didn't know what I meant, so I started to say that I wasn't really sure what a wedding stage manager was, but that I assumed there would be other's tasks I would need to coordinate. So she read me this thing with the duties and everything, so I (not entirely pleasantly) said, "so it's the maid of honor and mistress of ceremonies in one." She was silent. I think she may have gotten the point by my slight attitude, which continued on the impromptu hour drive to look at colors for bridesmaid dresses. Where I was forced to actually try one on. Apparently I'm good enough to do all the work and be everything to everyone, but not good enough to stand up with her. Bullshit. But, I'll remain a complete pussy and won't actually say anything about it. I'll just keep stewing and fuming on the inside, all while I'm trying to be stress-free. Ha. 

I'm mostly trying to chalk all this up to the universe breaking me down. At least, it feels like I'm being broken down. But I'm trying to be optimistic--usually (at least religiously) you have to be broken down to renew. So maybe I have to get to the bottom to rise way up to the top. Which better include Henry Cavill, damn it.