Rule Number One

Making fun of my religion doesn't make me less interested in that religion, just less interested in you. 

(Gotta stop dating idiot tactless nihilists). 

I seem to be having some sort of hyperactive, emotional, clean-everything and eat a lot of ice cream type of breakdown.

I would stop it, but I do really need to clean my room...

Life lately... no, living lately.

Taking the Spring semester off from Gordon was very difficult. 

I had nothing constructive to do, was stuck in Weare far away from people, had about three actually good days in January. 

I spent all my time with my sister, I drank a lot, it would have been really bad without a couple of good friendships keeping me going. 

So in March, Lent started, and I knew that living in my house, sticking to fasting would be near impossible so instead I decided that instead of giving anything up, I would pick everything up. I had to leave the house at least once a day, even if just to go to Clough State Park, down the road. So every day, I did something. I moved my body and since February 14 there have only been TWO days that I haven't left the house at all. For me, that's huge. But even more huge, I'm in the habit of getting up every day and saying- I think I'll make a snappy new day *snap snap*. 

And now, everything is different. 

I feel like I'm blooming. 

I feel good. I feel my hands. 

I feel good. For the first time in years. Optimistic, even. And I hope this isn't just some sort of remission of some awful disease, I really hope that the whole time this was just arsenic poisoning. Because I'm healing. Really. And I feel so good. My life is not over. It's just begining (and not even in a cliche way). 

I fell in love, which was... terrifying. I fell head first, I think, very suddenly. It was nervewracking because it wasn't the plan I had- I had hoped to get myself all straightened out and financially stable and you know- superficial goals. But I'm learning that being with him pushes me to, really, get around to being better. Being with someone you can see having a family with makes you want to work for that family, so I do. And even though being on my feet all night long at Zales, trying to peddle off diamonds in a recession, I work hard, through the pain, because I know what I'm working for. And he's patient enough with me to keep loving me, and impatient enough to show me what I need to change, to continue to work on, and that's wonderful.

And I hate that he's 1,200 miles away from me. I hate it. But it was the best decision. 

I go swimming every day that I don't work. I love it like I did as a child, completely lost in the water- and I got to swim in the ocean for the first time in years thanks to this heat wave, and I was unbelievable happy. I throw myself into waves, I body surf, I'm connected to water, sky, sand, and these elements are the only things that matter. I'm alive. I go three miles down the road to Clough and swim and float and doggy paddle all around for hours and hours with Eric, and we're just happy as clams. 

I love summer. 

I love being optimistic about the future. 

I love my hands. Being shocked by my own hands. By thinking these quarters feel weird and realizing I can feel them. Being amazed. Wondering if that was what I've been missing out on this whole time. 

And I love weekends. Hopping out of bed and driving 75 miles has never been more worth it. I love Holy Resurrection and all the people and all I'm learning and the priest who'll sit down and eat with me to catch up and make sure I'm alright and remind me to email him more. And I love tuna with grapes in it, even though, let's be honest, I don't actually like grapes. And I love sitting under huge trees- the kind of trees that you can look up and see forever, with the sun glowing through the leaves. Especially if there are also people under that tree 

And my swimsuit's in the dryer now, cuz it was all "lakey" but now I'm headed to see my wonderful sister and my amazing niece and my good friend Tara and we're going to get my swimsuit all "rivery" because I really don't care that I have strep. I'm on antibiotics so I'll be fine so let's go swimming. And it's sunny and warm and the river by the trestle is so beautiful and feels so good, so... I told my sister: make sure your camera's charged, this is a facebook album kind of day. 

Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

So, as I venture back to my adventurous life, I'd like to say: Thank you, Elijah, for being such a good friend when life was a bit darker, and especially thank you for inviting me to the Orthodox church enough times for me to become addicted. Thank you, Harry, for being my love. And loving me, despite all my crazy. And I love my Emily and my Ainsley. And my fan club of Amiee and Ben and Chris. 

Everything's comin' up Milhouse. 

every part of me is exhausted. 

frustrated. 

tense. 

in need. 

...

i could reiterate, i suppose. that this isn't what life was supposed to be like.

that my body is broken and though i have a room in a house, i have no "home." 

i could do what i usually end up doing, focus on the positive, 

the ever-present everything-will-be-okay outlook

even though life just keep looking less and less like it's actually going to. 

...

but

every part of me is exhausted.

frustrated.

tense.

in need.

so i think i'll just keep playing indestructotank. 

I don't know, really, what was worse.
The gallbladder attacks- unpredictable bursts of unbearable pain that caused me to miss a final one day, hit up the emergency room on another, and spend my very last day visiting gordon curled up in a sad, sad little ball on the couch on another...

Or the constant pain in my stomach and under my ribs and in my shoulder...

Or waking up from the actual gallbladder surgery in shock and in pain, or spending the next 5 or so days going in and out of shock because of pain because Morphine, Vicodin, Percocet and Tramadol don't work on me. So in the moments I shouldn't have felt anything, I woke up from anesthesia in shock. Screaming. 

And spent the next 2 days begging for something stronger. And literally being told "Morphine is very strong, you should feel fine." 

My life this past week has been straight out of a horror movie.