It stings.
Well, things have turned badly again.
A couple of weeks ago, I was out with Hermes. I was tired and not feeling great, so I'm sure I wasn't super nice. That's beside the point, though. After doing some shopping, we decided to go out to eat. As I was going to get out of the car, the car next to us was leaving, so I tried to stay out of the way and shut the door really close behind me. So close, in fact, that I shut my finger inside it. HOLY JESUS IT HURT. I really don't know how kids can handle that shit. PAIN. All up my arm, all the way to my friggin heart. Like, I was a little concerned because it hurt so bad even in my chest. Also, since Hermes drove, I had to get him to open the car back up. He was starting to walk inside by then, and apparently I was too calm and didn't convey the urgency of the situation well. I said I stayed there with my finger stuck for 30 seconds, Hermes says it was more like 15. Whatever, I'm pretty sure it was an eternity.
Hermes kept apologizing like it was his fault. It was very nice of him, and I really appreciated his concern. But it really was my own damn fault.
People kept telling me I need to start living in a bubble. Maybe I do.
That same weekend, well, actually the day before, my Mum and I did some shopping of our own. I was doing a little makeup splurging, and it was all well and good, and then my debit card was declined. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? It's so annoying because I knew without a doubt that I had plenty of money in my account. And it's so embarrassing because you're like "no, I'm sorry, I really do have money! It's lying!" and the cashier is just placating you like you're a hobo or something. But I got home and checked my account and, yes, I did in fact have plenty of dollars. I was really hoping it was a fluke.
So after the finger disaster with Hermes (oh that sounds super dirty), I tried to use my debit card again at dinner. No such luck. At least that time, they didn't tell me it said insufficient funds...like you feel the need to prove to these strangers that you're not destitute. Weird.
So that Monday, I went straightaway to the bank and told them my troubles. They couldn't see anything wrong, but ordered a new card just in case. So I took out a bunch of cash for the card-less days to follow, and life carried on.
The new card came in a few days later and I jumped at activating it. I went about changing the information on all my saved accounts, and a couple still told me there was something wrong. Um...I'm sorry...excuse me? Ugh. Called customer service and it turned out that the card had been hacked. They told me that they'd tried to contact me (prove that, bitches, I got nothing) to ask about some international purchases that were suspicious. Nope. So they cancelled it and ordered off for another new card. Good thing I took a bunch of cash out. So, that's strike 2...or 3? of bad things happening. That was over the weekend so I knew I couldn't expect my card anything soon. Life carried on.
That Tuesday, I was chatting with Hermes and he suggested we meet for coffee. I was exceptionally tired and my legs were feeling swollen and angry, but I thought it'd be nice to get out of the house. I agreed...I think something seemed a little off from the start, but I wasn't feeling overly gregarious anyway. Then he told me that he'd run into someone the previous weekend (try to keep up, it took me a while)...it was a friend of a girl that (I guess) he was interested in. He thought the girl was seeing someone but it turned out she really likes him. So he decided that he was going to pursue that instead. But, he had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to date him before he went into his whole thing. And then he tried to say that we didn't have that much in common and letting things go further would only make it worse and blah blah blah...all the bullshit people try to use to feel less like a douchebag.
Alright, don't get me wrong, it's not like I was in love with him or anything. I was mostly mad about rejection (I still have an ego and it still stings) and the fact that he tried to feed me that crap. Don't fucking lie and say it's personalities or interests...there's someone else that you want to bone. That's it!
I was pretty cold during that meeting. But, the absolute worst, most fucked up, completely asinine part: not only did he try the "I want to be friends" shit, he said we should go on double dates. FUCK YOU VERY MUCH. I told him that wasn't going to happen, and probably being friends wasn't either. I know I was stubborn, but it also felt kind of good to stand up for myself. Eventually I just rolled my eyes and left. Then he asked if I hated him and tried to give me some of the same bullshit...saying that I'm a good friend and he'd like to buy me dinner sometime. Ugh. There's a whole lot of NOPE there.
So I've been wallowing in self-pity and loneliness. Sometimes I feel that I'm really not asking that much in wanting a Spot to lay my head (girls, you know the one...the indent between the shoulder and clavicle where your head fits perfectly and he can wrap his arm around you); other times I know I'm picky and pretentious. Then I get to thinking that it's really between the lesser of two evils--settling or being alone.
(Sorry, that's a depressing sounding ending, but it also sounds a little melancholy and epic. But I also have to get up RIDICULOUSLY early--read: 4:45; wtf is that?--tomorrow. Also, I've now ruined my epicly melancholy ending. And apparently just made up the word "epicly." And I said "fuck" a lot in this post. Oh well. Fuck.)
Monday, April 28, 2014
Sunday, April 20, 2014
I'm Just Not That Into You
It's not you, it's me. But also you.
I think we've quite established by now that I'm a strange creature.
That becomes blaringly (wait, that's not a word? Wtf? LIES.) apparent when I'm expected to have actual interactions with people. Shit, that's not even something anyone should feel the need to say. I went to a birthday party last night that I was just miserable at. I had even gone earlier to help my friend get ready, and I was fine. But once people started arriving, I was the only one who didn't know the rest of the group. Then (because I'm me) I had a hard time joining in the conversations where they were all chatting and catching up and I was the outsider who didn't know any of their stories. It made me sad that I'm so stupidly socially awkward.
My mom has told me multiple times that I stop being interested in a guy when he likes me and treats me well. I dunno, maybe she's right.
I recently brought her attention to that quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "We accept the love we think we deserve." She then asked me where the hell I got my idea of thinking I deserve crappy love. And, really, I haven't the foggiest clue.
This part isn't so odd, I think, but once a small thing annoys me, I hate basically everything about that person...we'll call it The No Point. Usually I know pretty quickly whether or not I'm going to really like someone, too. Well, I've hit The No Point with Hermes already. It's not that there's anything he's done wrong or badly, it just isn't what I want.
Now here's the big question: when I'm fairly certain that there isn't a future with a guy, why do I keep trying? It may have something to do with knowing that guys are nice and feeling like I owe it a real attempt before giving up. Like maybe I can will myself into liking them. But then there are times, when I'm just annoyed with them (through no real fault of their own), and I feel like I'm being unnecessarily sarcastic and mean.
I don't think it's about just wanting to be with someone; I'm fine on my own. So that other thing is the best idea I've got. Still stupid.
Maybe the social awkwardness and the weird feeling of obligation are somehow related. Don't ask me how, but maybe they are. Either way, they both leave me feeling like I'd like to curl up into myself and be alone and safe. Uh, sorry, that's really depressing sounding. Yeah, I'm a strange person.
Hermes and I went to check out a new local brewery on Friday. To be honest, I had a really good time with him. (I think that also has something to do with the obligation; every once in a while I'll really enjoy the time I spend with them). Lindbergh was there. Thankfully, it took me a while to notice him, and his back was to me. I don't know if he saw us when we walked in or not. Fucker.
After Mass this morning (Happy Easter!), I was asked to sing at a wedding in July. I readily accepted; I love doing that stuff. Buuut....of course...it's a family that's really close to Soldier's family. I just can't get away from that fucker. Oops. Say a prayer for me that I just talked about church and said "fucker" in almost the same sentence. Well, this is awkward.
I think we've quite established by now that I'm a strange creature.
That becomes blaringly (wait, that's not a word? Wtf? LIES.) apparent when I'm expected to have actual interactions with people. Shit, that's not even something anyone should feel the need to say. I went to a birthday party last night that I was just miserable at. I had even gone earlier to help my friend get ready, and I was fine. But once people started arriving, I was the only one who didn't know the rest of the group. Then (because I'm me) I had a hard time joining in the conversations where they were all chatting and catching up and I was the outsider who didn't know any of their stories. It made me sad that I'm so stupidly socially awkward.
My mom has told me multiple times that I stop being interested in a guy when he likes me and treats me well. I dunno, maybe she's right.
I recently brought her attention to that quote from The Perks of Being a Wallflower: "We accept the love we think we deserve." She then asked me where the hell I got my idea of thinking I deserve crappy love. And, really, I haven't the foggiest clue.
This part isn't so odd, I think, but once a small thing annoys me, I hate basically everything about that person...we'll call it The No Point. Usually I know pretty quickly whether or not I'm going to really like someone, too. Well, I've hit The No Point with Hermes already. It's not that there's anything he's done wrong or badly, it just isn't what I want.
Now here's the big question: when I'm fairly certain that there isn't a future with a guy, why do I keep trying? It may have something to do with knowing that guys are nice and feeling like I owe it a real attempt before giving up. Like maybe I can will myself into liking them. But then there are times, when I'm just annoyed with them (through no real fault of their own), and I feel like I'm being unnecessarily sarcastic and mean.
I don't think it's about just wanting to be with someone; I'm fine on my own. So that other thing is the best idea I've got. Still stupid.
Maybe the social awkwardness and the weird feeling of obligation are somehow related. Don't ask me how, but maybe they are. Either way, they both leave me feeling like I'd like to curl up into myself and be alone and safe. Uh, sorry, that's really depressing sounding. Yeah, I'm a strange person.
Hermes and I went to check out a new local brewery on Friday. To be honest, I had a really good time with him. (I think that also has something to do with the obligation; every once in a while I'll really enjoy the time I spend with them). Lindbergh was there. Thankfully, it took me a while to notice him, and his back was to me. I don't know if he saw us when we walked in or not. Fucker.
After Mass this morning (Happy Easter!), I was asked to sing at a wedding in July. I readily accepted; I love doing that stuff. Buuut....of course...it's a family that's really close to Soldier's family. I just can't get away from that fucker. Oops. Say a prayer for me that I just talked about church and said "fucker" in almost the same sentence. Well, this is awkward.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
If You Swim In Dirty Water
You're bound to get mud on your hands
I really do have a habit of making things complicated for myself.
Oh wait! Before I get into anything, I have a correction to make from the last post. As a joke, I called the surgeon Dr. Bff. The surgeon and I are not actual bffs. Bffffffff was kind enough to point out my mistake. Angrily. But I love him for it.
Damn, it's been a while since I posted. Alright, so I complicate my own life. I don't exactly mean to, it just kind of happens.
I guess things are getting a bit serious with Hermes. We've been going to dinner and watching movies quite a bit. I've been enjoying it. Not overly enjoying it; I think he's more excited about the whole thing than I am. Maybe I'll get there...but who knows. I keep doing this to myself. It just seems kind of tiring. It probably has nothing to do with him; more so my feelings on dating and life in general right now.
I've been feeling kind of tired for a lot of reasons...the health issues not being the least. Everyone keeps telling me how positive I've been with it, which I guess is good, but I'm not sure how else one would act. I'm just trying to carry on with my life...I'm not sure how that's so noble or whatever.
But also, there's just so much gross in the world. So much violence and hatred and selfishness. For some weird reason it really gets to me and stresses me out. So it just makes me tired to even try. And, of course, it came to a head yesterday. I had to teach, which is always hard for me anyway. And there were people who were rude and not paying attention and I have a hard time with that. Especially since these are my coworkers, and (as far as trainings go) it's actually a pretty interesting and fun class. I really don't understand being so disrespectful and mean. I was really upset, but things usually look better in the sunrise of the next day. So I had a new resolve to be positive and focus on the individuals who are interested and keep doing the best I can.
I also get way too introspective when I have time to think and mull. That's probably a big part of this stuff. Also my stress builds on itself and I end up making it a lot worse.
Anywhoooo...the other night Hermes and I were hanging out and he started talking about the first night we saw each other. Uh, I guess it wasn't really the first night, since we'd obviously seen each other the weekend of Harry's wedding. But the first time lately...the first second time...the second first time...something with a one and a two I guess.
He said that he'd noticed me as soon as I walked in the door and pointed me out to Harry. Harry then reminded him who I was and encouraged him to get to know me. That actually kind of irritated me. Like part of me wanted to yell at him and ask if everyone was seriously just going to ignore how slightly crazy and dysfunctional the situation is. It's probably good that I restrained myself. He also mentioned Soldier for the first time. I really didn't like it.
The legs are still being ridiculous. They're actually really bad today, which is probably because I was standing almost the whole time I taught yesterday. I should have known better. But, I did see the surgeon again today, so maybe it worked on my behalf that they weren't playing nice. It's back to testing...a more intensive MRI is in the works, whatever that means.
I feel like this post has a different feel to it. I got halfway through The Perks of Being a Wallflower while I was waiting for the surgeon. (Wtf. When I first went to see him, everything happened so quickly, and I'd be in and out in about 45 minutes. Today I didn't even see him for an hour and a half after my appointment time. I think it made my legs angrier.) But, the book though. I absolutely love it. It's so simple, but so deep. And I get so emotionally attached to books that my thinking and talking (and writing, I guess) will kind of mirror that. It's a little alarming, actually. Kind of makes me question my sanity...can I really have that great of a handle on reality when my mental state can be (albeit temporarily) shaken by a story? Eh, whatever; lock me up in a padded room...at least that way I'd have a lot of time to read a lot of stories! I just really hope it has a happy ending.
I'm supposed to have dinner with Hermes again tomorrow. He has a nice tendency to suggest the next date as we're ending one. (Does that make sense? Seems a little muddy. When we were together on Friday he suggested dinner for Tuesday. Ugh, muddier, cause today's Tuesday and all. He suggested dinner but then we ended up getting together again on Sunday, and we decided that Wednesday would be better. I guess that's not at all a good example. But he attempted to make the plans. Whatever. You're all smart cookies, you can figure it out.)
So, dinner again tomorrow, assuming my legs don't kill me in the meantime. (What if they actually did and that was the last thing I wrote about? God, what a morbid thought.)
It would be nice to just get rid of them and start over. I think in my next life I'll be a starfish.
I really do have a habit of making things complicated for myself.
Oh wait! Before I get into anything, I have a correction to make from the last post. As a joke, I called the surgeon Dr. Bff. The surgeon and I are not actual bffs. Bffffffff was kind enough to point out my mistake. Angrily. But I love him for it.
Damn, it's been a while since I posted. Alright, so I complicate my own life. I don't exactly mean to, it just kind of happens.
I guess things are getting a bit serious with Hermes. We've been going to dinner and watching movies quite a bit. I've been enjoying it. Not overly enjoying it; I think he's more excited about the whole thing than I am. Maybe I'll get there...but who knows. I keep doing this to myself. It just seems kind of tiring. It probably has nothing to do with him; more so my feelings on dating and life in general right now.
I've been feeling kind of tired for a lot of reasons...the health issues not being the least. Everyone keeps telling me how positive I've been with it, which I guess is good, but I'm not sure how else one would act. I'm just trying to carry on with my life...I'm not sure how that's so noble or whatever.
But also, there's just so much gross in the world. So much violence and hatred and selfishness. For some weird reason it really gets to me and stresses me out. So it just makes me tired to even try. And, of course, it came to a head yesterday. I had to teach, which is always hard for me anyway. And there were people who were rude and not paying attention and I have a hard time with that. Especially since these are my coworkers, and (as far as trainings go) it's actually a pretty interesting and fun class. I really don't understand being so disrespectful and mean. I was really upset, but things usually look better in the sunrise of the next day. So I had a new resolve to be positive and focus on the individuals who are interested and keep doing the best I can.
I also get way too introspective when I have time to think and mull. That's probably a big part of this stuff. Also my stress builds on itself and I end up making it a lot worse.
Anywhoooo...the other night Hermes and I were hanging out and he started talking about the first night we saw each other. Uh, I guess it wasn't really the first night, since we'd obviously seen each other the weekend of Harry's wedding. But the first time lately...the first second time...the second first time...something with a one and a two I guess.
He said that he'd noticed me as soon as I walked in the door and pointed me out to Harry. Harry then reminded him who I was and encouraged him to get to know me. That actually kind of irritated me. Like part of me wanted to yell at him and ask if everyone was seriously just going to ignore how slightly crazy and dysfunctional the situation is. It's probably good that I restrained myself. He also mentioned Soldier for the first time. I really didn't like it.
The legs are still being ridiculous. They're actually really bad today, which is probably because I was standing almost the whole time I taught yesterday. I should have known better. But, I did see the surgeon again today, so maybe it worked on my behalf that they weren't playing nice. It's back to testing...a more intensive MRI is in the works, whatever that means.
I feel like this post has a different feel to it. I got halfway through The Perks of Being a Wallflower while I was waiting for the surgeon. (Wtf. When I first went to see him, everything happened so quickly, and I'd be in and out in about 45 minutes. Today I didn't even see him for an hour and a half after my appointment time. I think it made my legs angrier.) But, the book though. I absolutely love it. It's so simple, but so deep. And I get so emotionally attached to books that my thinking and talking (and writing, I guess) will kind of mirror that. It's a little alarming, actually. Kind of makes me question my sanity...can I really have that great of a handle on reality when my mental state can be (albeit temporarily) shaken by a story? Eh, whatever; lock me up in a padded room...at least that way I'd have a lot of time to read a lot of stories! I just really hope it has a happy ending.
I'm supposed to have dinner with Hermes again tomorrow. He has a nice tendency to suggest the next date as we're ending one. (Does that make sense? Seems a little muddy. When we were together on Friday he suggested dinner for Tuesday. Ugh, muddier, cause today's Tuesday and all. He suggested dinner but then we ended up getting together again on Sunday, and we decided that Wednesday would be better. I guess that's not at all a good example. But he attempted to make the plans. Whatever. You're all smart cookies, you can figure it out.)
So, dinner again tomorrow, assuming my legs don't kill me in the meantime. (What if they actually did and that was the last thing I wrote about? God, what a morbid thought.)
It would be nice to just get rid of them and start over. I think in my next life I'll be a starfish.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
New Loves
Desperation, saving face, and moving on quickly
Oy. This damn leg, I swear to God...
So I went to back to see my bff the surgeon last Tuesday and it's taken me the week to get over it. My swollen knee made him a little worried about infection, so he wanted to get a sample to send to the lab. Let me tell you, he'd make a good interrogator. Why, you ask? He ended up aspirating my knee, sans numbing medication. What does that mean, you ask? Disclaimer: this is a little gross.
When he took fluid out of my knee the last time, it didn't feel great; it also wasn't the worst. I laid on the table waiting for it...then I'm pretty sure he stabbed a machete into my knee. It knocked the wind out of me, my back arched, and all my muscles tensed up. And it didn't stop for about 2 full minutes. It hurt like a bitch, I could feel the needle moving, and I'm pretty sure I could feel the crap coming out of my knee. It was fucking awful. Seriously fucking awful. When he finally finished making my life miserable, the syringe was full of junk. And it wasn't a regular, small syringe. It was 60 some ccs of unhappiness.
I sat back up to get the skinny on what would happen next, and it only took about 20 seconds before I started to feel off. The Dr. Bff told me I looked a little woozy. Well, yes, I did feel like I might pass out from the IMMENSE PAIN you just caused me. So I had to lay back down, where I cried just a little bit, then get up in stages so I wouldn't faint and crack my head open.
In my defense, the nurse was shocked that he didn't numb it. My assumption is that I'm a total BAMF for not dying.
Back at the office, while I limped around on my seriously sore and swollen leg (but looking fantastically adorable whilst doing so), I had a visitor. It happened to be Hermes, Harry's brother that I had run into the weekend before. (Okay, just for the record, I do not think he's godlike...but he's all into sports and stuff). It was a nice little visit and we had a nice little chat.
It turns out the anger in my knee is not an infection. That's good news, I think. The bad news is that it's still swollen and stupid. It doesn't really hurt, but it's very uncomfortable. It's making me walk weird again (the other day my boss said it reminded her of Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Do movies need to be underlined? I don't care enough to look it up. It's there now) and the weird walking is making my foot swollen and sore. The problem is, I can't really figure out how to walk right. It's also (again) keeping me from sleeping. So most days I just try to stay awake and not scowl at anyone too intensely. I have to take an unhealthy amount of anti-inflammatories for a couple of weeks and see Dr. Bff if it doesn't help. My thoughts? If it was going to help (or the ice or elevation), it would be doing that by now. But I'm also not a doctor. So I'll be a good girl.
Feeling kind of brave, I ended up asking Hermes if he wanted to get together for a movie on Friday. He brought some beer and we watched Casablanca. Something about the love stories they made back then is just so much better than the crap they churn out now. It was another nice time.
BREAK! While Hermes was over hanging out, I received a text from Lindbergh. He told me that the fb would be saying that he's in a relationship and he wanted to tell me before I saw it or heard it from someone else. I was surprised, annoyed, and shocked all at once. I first made an awkward reply; later on I got mad. I told him that I'm glad he's moving on so quickly and is happy. Then I told him that I'm still having health problems, and dealing with them alone, because he couldn't be there. That I had spent the last few months trying to be able to look him in the eye and trying to feel normal, and fuck you very much for trying to shove your shiny new relationship in my face. BACK ON!
Hermes called me after he got home, and told me that he'd like to see me again. I agreed. Then he asked if it would be out of line to hope for something possibly more than friends. I said it would not. We got together for coffee the next day, and sat talking for a couple of hours.
Yesterday, I asked when we're getting together again. He asked if I'd like to go to a fancy dinner, because he wants to take me out. That was a nice thing to hear.
I'm trying to be cautious; there are so many tricky pieces to this one. I'm not really sure how to handle it all, and I've never been overly excited about having to learn someone new.
You know me...I'll take it all in stride. Or, you know, I'll take it hobbling along awkwardly.
Oy. This damn leg, I swear to God...
So I went to back to see my bff the surgeon last Tuesday and it's taken me the week to get over it. My swollen knee made him a little worried about infection, so he wanted to get a sample to send to the lab. Let me tell you, he'd make a good interrogator. Why, you ask? He ended up aspirating my knee, sans numbing medication. What does that mean, you ask? Disclaimer: this is a little gross.
When he took fluid out of my knee the last time, it didn't feel great; it also wasn't the worst. I laid on the table waiting for it...then I'm pretty sure he stabbed a machete into my knee. It knocked the wind out of me, my back arched, and all my muscles tensed up. And it didn't stop for about 2 full minutes. It hurt like a bitch, I could feel the needle moving, and I'm pretty sure I could feel the crap coming out of my knee. It was fucking awful. Seriously fucking awful. When he finally finished making my life miserable, the syringe was full of junk. And it wasn't a regular, small syringe. It was 60 some ccs of unhappiness.
I sat back up to get the skinny on what would happen next, and it only took about 20 seconds before I started to feel off. The Dr. Bff told me I looked a little woozy. Well, yes, I did feel like I might pass out from the IMMENSE PAIN you just caused me. So I had to lay back down, where I cried just a little bit, then get up in stages so I wouldn't faint and crack my head open.
In my defense, the nurse was shocked that he didn't numb it. My assumption is that I'm a total BAMF for not dying.
Back at the office, while I limped around on my seriously sore and swollen leg (but looking fantastically adorable whilst doing so), I had a visitor. It happened to be Hermes, Harry's brother that I had run into the weekend before. (Okay, just for the record, I do not think he's godlike...but he's all into sports and stuff). It was a nice little visit and we had a nice little chat.
It turns out the anger in my knee is not an infection. That's good news, I think. The bad news is that it's still swollen and stupid. It doesn't really hurt, but it's very uncomfortable. It's making me walk weird again (the other day my boss said it reminded her of Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Do movies need to be underlined? I don't care enough to look it up. It's there now) and the weird walking is making my foot swollen and sore. The problem is, I can't really figure out how to walk right. It's also (again) keeping me from sleeping. So most days I just try to stay awake and not scowl at anyone too intensely. I have to take an unhealthy amount of anti-inflammatories for a couple of weeks and see Dr. Bff if it doesn't help. My thoughts? If it was going to help (or the ice or elevation), it would be doing that by now. But I'm also not a doctor. So I'll be a good girl.
Feeling kind of brave, I ended up asking Hermes if he wanted to get together for a movie on Friday. He brought some beer and we watched Casablanca. Something about the love stories they made back then is just so much better than the crap they churn out now. It was another nice time.
BREAK! While Hermes was over hanging out, I received a text from Lindbergh. He told me that the fb would be saying that he's in a relationship and he wanted to tell me before I saw it or heard it from someone else. I was surprised, annoyed, and shocked all at once. I first made an awkward reply; later on I got mad. I told him that I'm glad he's moving on so quickly and is happy. Then I told him that I'm still having health problems, and dealing with them alone, because he couldn't be there. That I had spent the last few months trying to be able to look him in the eye and trying to feel normal, and fuck you very much for trying to shove your shiny new relationship in my face. BACK ON!
Hermes called me after he got home, and told me that he'd like to see me again. I agreed. Then he asked if it would be out of line to hope for something possibly more than friends. I said it would not. We got together for coffee the next day, and sat talking for a couple of hours.
Yesterday, I asked when we're getting together again. He asked if I'd like to go to a fancy dinner, because he wants to take me out. That was a nice thing to hear.
I'm trying to be cautious; there are so many tricky pieces to this one. I'm not really sure how to handle it all, and I've never been overly excited about having to learn someone new.
You know me...I'll take it all in stride. Or, you know, I'll take it hobbling along awkwardly.
Monday, March 17, 2014
Chasing Leprechauns
And everything else.
In the US, we like to have festive excuses to drink. Not that we really need the excuse, but it makes it more fun. So, of course, there was a lot going on over the past few days as the honorary St. Patrick's Day weekend.
On Friday, feeling much better, I decided to meet up with one of my friends at a local brewery. As I was waiting to get a (non-green, how not festive) beer, a couple of Soldier's friends came up to say hi. It was Harry and his brother, and it was really nice to chat. They (thankfully) didn't bring up Soldier at all, and even invited me to join them the next night for a concert at the brewery. I tentatively agreed, but begged Harry to have Ginny come with, and for one of them to message me at the time. I jokingly let them know that I get very nervous about stuff like that, and that I was just asking them to let me know. Oh, I also gave the brother my number. It was innocent--he recently moved back home and is looking for a job. Since that's kind of what I do, I gave him my card, and then later on he said something about getting in touch with me the next night so I added my cell number. Anyway they had kept insisting for me to go to the concert, so I started thinking that I would.
I heard from Ginny Saturday evening, inviting me to a girls movie night. I was a little bummed. I asked if Harry had mentioned going to the brewery and she said he had, but the girls decided to relax. I was more bummed. I tried to push going out, and she said she was fine with me going or relaxing with them. I was weighing my options until she told me that the guys had just left to stop at Soldier's before going drinking.
Well, that made my decision for me. I obviously couldn't go out if Soldier was going to be there. He probably would have been fine with it, but I wouldn't. I haven't seen him in months and I really don't know how I'd feel about it. And my self esteem, especially with all the stress lately, didn't need that beating. Then I started pouting. For one thing, it feels like it's been forever since I've gone out and had fun. But, the fact that he kept me from going. Then I started to not even want to see the girls. I would have to get ready, just to sit around and do exactly what I was already doing. I hadn't taken my narcolepsy meds, so I also probably would have fallen asleep. And whenever I'm with those girls, they always end up talking about Soldier. I didn't want to hear about him after that. So I sat at home being upset and doing nothing.
The next morning the brother sent me a text. He had given me a band suggestion and asked if I listened to it yet. We went back and forth a bit, and it was fun. We mentioned that we'd talked about older movies and he suggested we get together as friends to watch some older movies sometime. He said that we know most of the same people so we're already friends by association. I made a bad joke about it and he hasn't replied. I felt a little awkward about him being kind of insistent with the friends part, and it's pretty apparent that I'm good at spreading the awkwardness around. I can't decide if I should try to strike the conversation back up. It seems kind of desperate, but I'm not trying to make a move on him. It would just be really nice to have someone to hang out with. Plus, the guys don't really talk about Soldier, and that's refreshing. I'll probably just keep wondering about it for a while. Oh well.
In other news, remember how I was cleared to be normal again on Thursday? Well, for no apparent reason, my right knee started swelling again on Sunday. So, back to the surgeon tomorrow. He's going to think I have a thing for him. (I don't.) I can't figure out what the deal is...it seems to me that there has to be something else going on. I'm beginning to think my leg needs an exorcist.
In the US, we like to have festive excuses to drink. Not that we really need the excuse, but it makes it more fun. So, of course, there was a lot going on over the past few days as the honorary St. Patrick's Day weekend.
On Friday, feeling much better, I decided to meet up with one of my friends at a local brewery. As I was waiting to get a (non-green, how not festive) beer, a couple of Soldier's friends came up to say hi. It was Harry and his brother, and it was really nice to chat. They (thankfully) didn't bring up Soldier at all, and even invited me to join them the next night for a concert at the brewery. I tentatively agreed, but begged Harry to have Ginny come with, and for one of them to message me at the time. I jokingly let them know that I get very nervous about stuff like that, and that I was just asking them to let me know. Oh, I also gave the brother my number. It was innocent--he recently moved back home and is looking for a job. Since that's kind of what I do, I gave him my card, and then later on he said something about getting in touch with me the next night so I added my cell number. Anyway they had kept insisting for me to go to the concert, so I started thinking that I would.
I heard from Ginny Saturday evening, inviting me to a girls movie night. I was a little bummed. I asked if Harry had mentioned going to the brewery and she said he had, but the girls decided to relax. I was more bummed. I tried to push going out, and she said she was fine with me going or relaxing with them. I was weighing my options until she told me that the guys had just left to stop at Soldier's before going drinking.
Well, that made my decision for me. I obviously couldn't go out if Soldier was going to be there. He probably would have been fine with it, but I wouldn't. I haven't seen him in months and I really don't know how I'd feel about it. And my self esteem, especially with all the stress lately, didn't need that beating. Then I started pouting. For one thing, it feels like it's been forever since I've gone out and had fun. But, the fact that he kept me from going. Then I started to not even want to see the girls. I would have to get ready, just to sit around and do exactly what I was already doing. I hadn't taken my narcolepsy meds, so I also probably would have fallen asleep. And whenever I'm with those girls, they always end up talking about Soldier. I didn't want to hear about him after that. So I sat at home being upset and doing nothing.
The next morning the brother sent me a text. He had given me a band suggestion and asked if I listened to it yet. We went back and forth a bit, and it was fun. We mentioned that we'd talked about older movies and he suggested we get together as friends to watch some older movies sometime. He said that we know most of the same people so we're already friends by association. I made a bad joke about it and he hasn't replied. I felt a little awkward about him being kind of insistent with the friends part, and it's pretty apparent that I'm good at spreading the awkwardness around. I can't decide if I should try to strike the conversation back up. It seems kind of desperate, but I'm not trying to make a move on him. It would just be really nice to have someone to hang out with. Plus, the guys don't really talk about Soldier, and that's refreshing. I'll probably just keep wondering about it for a while. Oh well.
In other news, remember how I was cleared to be normal again on Thursday? Well, for no apparent reason, my right knee started swelling again on Sunday. So, back to the surgeon tomorrow. He's going to think I have a thing for him. (I don't.) I can't figure out what the deal is...it seems to me that there has to be something else going on. I'm beginning to think my leg needs an exorcist.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
Post Op
Healing under the influence of impatience
I saw the surgeon for a followup yesterday, after a very up and down week. I was SUPER excited to get back to work on Monday. For real, I was actually excited. Then...Tuesday happened. My legs hurt, I was exhausted, and I felt like I was backsliding from the progress I'd made. The legs got a little better through the week, but I was more and more tired each day.
It was worse because, as tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. My knees were throbbing and it's uncomfortable to try and sleep with them propped up and, for whatever reason, my mind stayed awake. It was infuriating and obnoxious and ridiculous. I eventually (somehow) figured it out, but it was a long week. I'm not exactly sure how it happened but I made it to the end with all my body parts intact.
Yesterday I got a Facebook message from Cowboy. Remember him? Last I knew, months and months ago, he was all gung-ho for me to come visit him, and then there was radio silence. I'd seen that he was planning on coming into town soon, so I can't really decide if his message was surprising or not. He started with small talk...asking about the surgery and how I've been. I was very skeptical, just waiting for my chance, and then he told me his stepparent is passing away.
Ouch. Cheap shot. I can't be mad and snooty when you throw that at me! And he knew it. I'm very sorry for the situation, but there's no need to bring me into it and cause me the misery that's been avoided for quite a while.
If they decide they should go away, why don't they just go away?! They always want to come back, and it's hard. They try to justify it by saying they still care. But NO. You don't get to come back with that shit!
And what am I supposed to do when he throws that traumatic information in? He knows I can't ignore someone who needs a shoulder. I of course changed my attitude and gave my sympathy. We chatted a bit and caught up, and then came the inevitable suggestion: that we should get together while he's here. I was (and still am) very weary about it, and I tried to get that through without actually saying no. I suggested that he might just want to spend family, but he assured me that he'll want to see others too. I still tried to be a little aloof; I ended up just telling him to let me know when the time comes how he feels. Part of me is expecting/hoping that he just won't get in touch with me. I mean, what good will it do to go through the whole thing again? It'll just frustrate me.
I'm getting too old to go through all this crap.
I saw the surgeon for a followup yesterday, after a very up and down week. I was SUPER excited to get back to work on Monday. For real, I was actually excited. Then...Tuesday happened. My legs hurt, I was exhausted, and I felt like I was backsliding from the progress I'd made. The legs got a little better through the week, but I was more and more tired each day.
It was worse because, as tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. My knees were throbbing and it's uncomfortable to try and sleep with them propped up and, for whatever reason, my mind stayed awake. It was infuriating and obnoxious and ridiculous. I eventually (somehow) figured it out, but it was a long week. I'm not exactly sure how it happened but I made it to the end with all my body parts intact.
Yesterday I got a Facebook message from Cowboy. Remember him? Last I knew, months and months ago, he was all gung-ho for me to come visit him, and then there was radio silence. I'd seen that he was planning on coming into town soon, so I can't really decide if his message was surprising or not. He started with small talk...asking about the surgery and how I've been. I was very skeptical, just waiting for my chance, and then he told me his stepparent is passing away.
Ouch. Cheap shot. I can't be mad and snooty when you throw that at me! And he knew it. I'm very sorry for the situation, but there's no need to bring me into it and cause me the misery that's been avoided for quite a while.
If they decide they should go away, why don't they just go away?! They always want to come back, and it's hard. They try to justify it by saying they still care. But NO. You don't get to come back with that shit!
And what am I supposed to do when he throws that traumatic information in? He knows I can't ignore someone who needs a shoulder. I of course changed my attitude and gave my sympathy. We chatted a bit and caught up, and then came the inevitable suggestion: that we should get together while he's here. I was (and still am) very weary about it, and I tried to get that through without actually saying no. I suggested that he might just want to spend family, but he assured me that he'll want to see others too. I still tried to be a little aloof; I ended up just telling him to let me know when the time comes how he feels. Part of me is expecting/hoping that he just won't get in touch with me. I mean, what good will it do to go through the whole thing again? It'll just frustrate me.
I'm getting too old to go through all this crap.
Friday, March 7, 2014
A Four Inch Slice
Happy to be cut into.
I had my second appointment with the surgeon on Thursday. Well, except I didn't.
Monday afternoon/evening, my foot started to get really cold, numb, and tingly. I tried massaging my foot to get some heat into it and ended up having to heat up a rice pack. My foot started to warm up a bit, but the cold had crept up my ankle and into my calf and it was starting to freak me out. I kept checking the pulse in my foot and it was fine, but it was a different type of cold than I'm used to.
It was weird trying to figure out what to look for, mostly because I have weird health stuff in general. I have Raynaud's syndrome, which means my circulation is all crazy. After my biopsy, the nurses were telling me what to look out for with my foot, and it kept making me laugh. They said to worry if it's cold...well I'm always cold. There was also a check for the how quickly the blood comes back to the capillaries if you press on them...pretty often during the winter my capillaries just close up and I lose circulation. So, it kind of came down to checking the pulse, and they marked an X on my foot so I'd know where to look.
Anyway my pulse was there, and eventually the feeling and warmth came back. I decided to call the next day (Tuesday) to let them know what was going on. Since the surgeon is awesome, he got me in that day. He decided my foot was okay (which I knew) and started looking at the pictures from the ultrasound. I mentioned that I'm not able to do anything, and he asked what I meant. Then I said how I wasn't really able to walk and he asked me to elaborate on that. So I showed him how I couldn't straighten or flex my leg quite right.
When I'm uncomfortable or nervous, I make jokes. Also I don't like to be a problem patient, so I try not to be too bothersome. But I decided that I needed to stop downplaying what was going on. So I showed him what was going on and he started to measure the hematoma from the pictures. He decided it was pretty big and was sitting on top of the muscle, then started talking about what we needed to do to get it out of there.
I thought it sounded fantastic. I asked when we could do it, and he said the next day (Wednesday). I was excited. All night, and the next day. I was excited when I got to the surgery center. I was less excited when I went back to the room. I was even less excited when they put in the IV. After that, the doctor came in and explained what was going to happen, then the anesthesiologist came to talk to me about the drugs.
It went pretty quickly after that. They took me into the OR, started the drugs, and I woke up with my leg all bandaged up.
It went really well...the surgeon got rid of the hematoma and I have about a 4 inch incision. My leg's still all wrapped up, I've been off work for the past few days, and I'm trying to get back to walking normally. On a positive note, I finally got to take a shower today. I was pretty rank.
But, of course, this advancement on the situation has made me more lonely. Of course. I mean, kind of...it's made me see how many amazing people and support I have in my life. But at the same time it would be so nice to have someone to curl up next to. Before the surgery, I cried just about every day. I was so frustrated with the whole thing.
Oh but, yay for me, the creepy weirdo guy from church sent me another email. It was something about 10 reasons to let the genie out of the bottle or some weird shit. Crazy ass.
Soldier recently commented on one of my status updates on the Facebook. I'd like to be able to read something into that, but I'm trying really hard not to read anything into that.
So, in trying not to worry too much about the "love life" and trying to keep out the creepers, I'm working on another trip to Paris. This time without the extra lumpy friend afterwards.
I had my second appointment with the surgeon on Thursday. Well, except I didn't.
Monday afternoon/evening, my foot started to get really cold, numb, and tingly. I tried massaging my foot to get some heat into it and ended up having to heat up a rice pack. My foot started to warm up a bit, but the cold had crept up my ankle and into my calf and it was starting to freak me out. I kept checking the pulse in my foot and it was fine, but it was a different type of cold than I'm used to.
It was weird trying to figure out what to look for, mostly because I have weird health stuff in general. I have Raynaud's syndrome, which means my circulation is all crazy. After my biopsy, the nurses were telling me what to look out for with my foot, and it kept making me laugh. They said to worry if it's cold...well I'm always cold. There was also a check for the how quickly the blood comes back to the capillaries if you press on them...pretty often during the winter my capillaries just close up and I lose circulation. So, it kind of came down to checking the pulse, and they marked an X on my foot so I'd know where to look.
Anyway my pulse was there, and eventually the feeling and warmth came back. I decided to call the next day (Tuesday) to let them know what was going on. Since the surgeon is awesome, he got me in that day. He decided my foot was okay (which I knew) and started looking at the pictures from the ultrasound. I mentioned that I'm not able to do anything, and he asked what I meant. Then I said how I wasn't really able to walk and he asked me to elaborate on that. So I showed him how I couldn't straighten or flex my leg quite right.
When I'm uncomfortable or nervous, I make jokes. Also I don't like to be a problem patient, so I try not to be too bothersome. But I decided that I needed to stop downplaying what was going on. So I showed him what was going on and he started to measure the hematoma from the pictures. He decided it was pretty big and was sitting on top of the muscle, then started talking about what we needed to do to get it out of there.
I thought it sounded fantastic. I asked when we could do it, and he said the next day (Wednesday). I was excited. All night, and the next day. I was excited when I got to the surgery center. I was less excited when I went back to the room. I was even less excited when they put in the IV. After that, the doctor came in and explained what was going to happen, then the anesthesiologist came to talk to me about the drugs.
It went pretty quickly after that. They took me into the OR, started the drugs, and I woke up with my leg all bandaged up.
It went really well...the surgeon got rid of the hematoma and I have about a 4 inch incision. My leg's still all wrapped up, I've been off work for the past few days, and I'm trying to get back to walking normally. On a positive note, I finally got to take a shower today. I was pretty rank.
But, of course, this advancement on the situation has made me more lonely. Of course. I mean, kind of...it's made me see how many amazing people and support I have in my life. But at the same time it would be so nice to have someone to curl up next to. Before the surgery, I cried just about every day. I was so frustrated with the whole thing.
Oh but, yay for me, the creepy weirdo guy from church sent me another email. It was something about 10 reasons to let the genie out of the bottle or some weird shit. Crazy ass.
Soldier recently commented on one of my status updates on the Facebook. I'd like to be able to read something into that, but I'm trying really hard not to read anything into that.
So, in trying not to worry too much about the "love life" and trying to keep out the creepers, I'm working on another trip to Paris. This time without the extra lumpy friend afterwards.
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