She’s Got No Fight Left

I love my mom… I really do.  She’s my mom.  She practically raised me on her own after my dad left us when I was only 2.  She’s been there for me for everything, the good and the bad.   She was always more like a best friend than she was my mom.  She was the cool laid back parent that pretty much let me get away with anything I wanted so long as the cops never brought me home (which they never did).

But she has this problem… well, it’s actually an injury that just creates problems .  When she was around 20 or so, she was involved in a car accident that ejected her from the vehicle and hit her head.  She was in a coma for 3 days.   My family told me that the doctors said she wasn’t expected to survive and a priest was even brought in to read her the Last Rites.  Defying the odds she woke up, and was sent home the following day.  Without proper medical care and followup treatment, my mom had to relearn how to walk, talk, and most things you can imagine after a head injury, all on her own at home with the help of her family.  But she did it.  Looking at her, you wouldn’t think anything was wrong or had happened… until you see her behavior and mood swings.

Even the smallest brain injuries will affect a person in unpredictable ways.  Add that to our family history of depression and anxiety, and 30+ years of time passing since the accident without any treatment for the injury or the depression, and you have what I am dealing with… what I’ve dealt with since as long as I can remember.

Mom was never the easiest person to deal with.   As long as I can remember, she’s had mood swings, anger issues, and unpredictable emotional outbursts.  Her rationalization skills were always lacking, and her memory wasn’t the greatest.  I know my father leaving us really killed her spirit, and even to this day I know she still loves him.  But him leaving only added onto her already fragile mind state.  She didn’t become a stronger person after he left… it only started her slow and steady shutout of the friends, family and world around her.  And now after 29 years, I am finally coming to the end of my tolerance of her problems and lack of self-responsibility.

Now that grandpa is gone and our lease is ending, I’m ready to move out and finally start my life.  But I cant.  My mom doesn’t make enough money with her business and so far had been refusing to look for work.  She picks up job applications,  but doesn’t fill them out or return them.  She cries about her business failing and calls herself a ‘loser’ and follows it up with excuse after excuse.   She managed to get a job delivering newspapers at night, but quit after one night because she “didn’t have a dome light in her truck”.  Ever heard of a flashlight?  After that answer,  she blamed me for not going on her route with her.  She’s an adult, I can’t hold her hand during a evening paper route, a route in the town she grew up in, when I have a job of my own to be at before 7am.

I’m trying so hard to help her get her stuff together and give her the courage to stand on her own feet, but it’s not working.  I’m looking for low rent/income apartments for her and I set up the viewings and drive her to see the place.  I’ve registered her for the housing assistance program and filed for her replacement social security card because she has suddenly lost it.  I printed out the application for Public Aid and upon seeing it was 18 pages, sat down with her (prepared for arguing and tears) and told her I would help her with the whole thing, only to have her fill out the Name/Address/Basic Information section, flip through the rest of it and then start crying and putting herself down before telling me I don’t know what’s she’s going through and then shutting herself in her room and laying in her bed.

I know she’s depressed, I dragged sharp metal objects across my skin for 10+ years so I definitely understand the feeling of being sad, lost and helpless.  I reached my breaking point, or as I refer to it, my “scared straight moment” and forced myself to face and fix my problems.  But for years I’ve watched her wallow in her self-pity and now that time is seriously running out, and she hasn’t reached her wake up point… I don’t know if she ever will.  I don’t know is she can. 

She yells at me and says I have everything figured out and a boyfriend to help support me, therfore I don’t understand her feelings and frustration and accuses me of not caring.   However, it’s obvious with her mind state that she doesn’t see the problems I am facing within the situation.

I have a mother with depression.
A mother with a brain injury.
A woman who is emotionally spent.
A woman who has given up.
A mother who cannot love herself or try to help herself.
A person who cannot function in the day to day Real World.

I have to worry about all of this.  I feel like it’s my job to save her and to help her and try to give her the strength and belief that she is not the loser she calls herself.  That she can find a job and stand on her own two feet.  I can’t fix her brain injury and I can’t make the depression go away.  But I can try to help her and support her, and suggest methods of self support and urge her to try and find ways to better herself, her life, her feelings.

But everything I do is shot down.  All my suggestions and encouragement is met with excuses, resistance, fighting, tears, self-pity, accusations of not loving her and abandoning her, and name calling.  I try telling her that not everything is her fault and how to work on the things she can control.  She may have no control over the fact that she has a brain injury, but she does have the control to treat it… to seek help.  She would qualify for medical disability but I can’t convince her to see a doctor because of “insurance”, where as if she would just quit coming up with excuses, she would find out that she can see a doctor and disability will provide her with insurance and help to pay for her bills, both medical and financial.  There are programs out there that she can access, that will help her, that she does qualify for…. but if I can’t get her to fill out the paperwork or give me the information I need to fill it out for her, or see the doctor, or quit resisiting…. then I’m lost too.  Her refusal to work with me seems like a white flag, a surrender.   Her life choices cannot keep effecting me so negatively.

I feel like it’s an episode of ‘Intervention’.  She’s the addict and I’m the substance.  Her belief that her life will never get better and that it is what it is, and that if she can just keep me with her forever… is just enabling behavior if I stay.  She’s too dependant on me when I know she has the strength to do it on her own, or with minimal help.  But her refusal to belive it, or make an effort for positive change or any type of independence is driving me to the brink of giving up on her.  If she continues to refuse to try and do anything for herself, I have to walk away.  I have to do it for myself.  I cannot allow her this guilt and power over me to keep my life from progressing and growing.

If she won’t get help and won’t let me try to help her help herself, then I have no more words… I have no more answers or ideas.  I love my mother. She gave me life and raised me to be a strong fighter…  but how do you fight for someone who refuses to fight for themself?

Dusting off my fingers and writing again…

Its been a while since the last time I wrote… its been  exactly 8 months since the last time I posted an entry.  As usual, lots of things have changed since my last post about my old rescue squad getting shut down. 

Mom, grandpa, and I resigned our lease for the house back in July 2014.  At this point we’ve been there a year and a half.   The longer we stay there, the more apparent it is that the landlord sucks and that the house had cheap ass work done to it before we moved in, just to make it look good.   I’m just thankful we’ll be able to cut out of the lease early if we need to, and I’m sure as hell not going to stay there for a third year.

Yeah… about getting out of the lease early…  grandpa passed away this past November.   He got a bug that everyone was catching in early winter and for 3 weeks, he refused to go to the hospital.  Finally he agreed and went in on a Sunday afternoon,  and he passed that following Friday afternoon.   By Thursday night, he was so tired and fed up of being sick and in pain, he signed hospice papers allowing the nurses to hook up a morphine drip and remove the bipap mask.  That stubborn old cowboy held on for 19.5 hours, and before the morphine knocked him out, his last words were “Give me a light” has he holds his arm up with an invisible cigarette in his fingers, finally succombing to a smoking-related illness.  How fitting.

The bills have gone from being split 3 ways, to split 2 ways and I’m lucky I got my raise after grandpas funeral, or we’d have already lost the house we’re renting…  The biggest change?   The silence in the house now.  I no longer hear the constant hum of the oxygen machine,  and the living room TV isn’t on full blast anymore.  The silence is deafening.   I miss my grandpa.   No more hockey stories, no more cowboy stories…  no one around to steal my cigarettes and to buy scratch off lotto tickets for…  its been almost 3 months and I’m still not used to the silence.

With grandpa being gone, I cant wait to be able to move out.  Right now I’m stuck staying with mom because she’s screwed without me.  She’s not trying to help herself in anyway.  The way her business is going and the way her finances are, she can’t afford to stay in the house we’re renting alone.  All in all, rent + utilities are around $1500/month.  I’m frustrated because I’ve already spent the last 6 years living at home helping with my grandpa.   Im going to be 29 this summer and I want to be back out on my own.  Its not fair that I have to put my adulthood independence on hold who knows how much longer, because my mom cant be an adult for herself. 

Im ready to start my life with my boyfriend.  Im ready to get a cheap, tiny apartment so we can scrimp and save for the down payment on our first house.  It took us 10 years to finally get together and I don’t want to waste anymore time.  This isnt just some random relationship.   We’ve been friends forever and we’re finally together.   It took me ten years to come to my senses and figure out he’s the one (he had it figured out when we met).  I’m with the man that I’m going to marry.   The man I’m going to have babies with… the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with… and I couldn’t be happier. 

I’m ready to start the next chapter of my life.   I’m ready for a new beginning.   But still, things aren’t perfect.  My determination to be on my own, and to be independent again is hindered by my guilty conscience about my mom not being able to hack it alone…  but I know I can’t sit around and forfeit my happiness because of her self-pity.  I know when the lease is due to renew, I cannot sign it and strap myself into another year letting her depend on me.

*sigh*

Keyboard Players Press Buttons

Its 8:32am.  I’m sitting at my desk at work listening to the hum of the ECP beds and trying to decide if an energy drink is essential today. 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last few days about my drinking habits and came to a conclusion; I’m not alcoholic, but I am definitely a binge drinker. Which can be a slippery slope into a bigger problem.

I don’t need alcohol to function, I don’t have DT’s from withdrawal, I don’t drink every day, or even every weekend.  I’ve never pissed myself while drunk or woke up covered in my own vomit.  I dont leave the bar falling on my face or ever get kicked out or cut off.  I dont go out every weekend or throughout the week.

However…

When I do go out, most of the time I end up piecing the night together or asking asking a lot of “What happened?”‘s.  That is a problem.  I never go out eith the intention of getting drunk, but it seems lately that I’ve become that drunk, obnoxious girl you see at the bar and try to avoid.  And trust me, I hate those girls.  You know the ones I’m talking about… the ones who are drunk by 10pm and you want to slap because they keep bumping into you or spilling their drinks on everyone.  Me? Im not a spiller or a bumper, I’m a talker. 

When I’m drinking, I just want to talk to everyone, about anything.  And just like with everyone,  I become honest.  I’ll say anything that is on my mind without worrying ab it offending anyone.   It was while drunkenly talking to the keyboard player of my favorite local band this past weekend,  that somethingwas said to me that really bothered me and got me rethinking myself and actions whilst out… 

“I like you at the beginning of the show, but I don’t like you at the end.”

I remember the entire concert,  but after the show through my flashes of talking to people, dancing with some of the girls I’ve made friends with from the show, the comment from Jordan was the only real clear moment in my memory after the concert.

That really bothered me.  You can joke and rehash things with your close friends without a real need to feel bad or embarrassed,  but a comment that honest from someone you don’t have a close relationship with can make the real difference someone (like me) needs to open their eyes and really look at themselves and their actions.

That is exactly what I’ve been doing this week.  I can’t keep going out and acting the way I have been.  I’ve made some major changes in my behavior in the past, but it seems I didnt finish and there are still some that need to be changed.  

I don’t want to be that girl you see at the bar who everyone wants to stay away from, who they make jokes about…  I’ve seen those girls and I know what I think of them, I don’t want to become them.

So,  I just want to say thanks to Jordan.   He helped me open my eyes a little bit more.  The only way I can prove to myself and to others that I can change is by doing it.  I can and I will.

Weird Girl

I feel bad. I can’t fully explain why, but I feel like shit. Its not an “I’m sick” feel bad, it’s all in my head.

The winter cold isn’t really helping.
I hate the winter… bleak, wet, cold, miserable… everything is the same, no color or warmth.

Seasons change, bringing out the change in others and what we see around us… who and what we surround ourselves with. The white disappears and color starts to peek through.

I need that to happen. I can’t stand the cold I feel in the air and the cold I feel in myself. I need warmth… sunshine… smiles… laughter… I don’t know how to make them happen right now.

Right now I feel like this weird girl, weird to everyone and to myself. I laugh to hide the tears, drink to cover my fears. It’s a pointless circle of bullshit I’d love to break…. but I’m not comfortable trying. I’ve grown accustomed to how I feel these days and thinking of happiness seems so… foreign.

I can’t write, I can’t think, I can’t move sometimes… It’s in my head, I know. But lately inside my head is the only place I really know.

Something for me to think about…

Since June 1st I’ve run maybe 15 calls on my ambulance, and have only transported 2 patients…
I still go in every Thursday night, and my rotating 24 hour weekend shift.

It’s not because of a lack calls coming into dispatch, and it’s definitely not because people haven’t been getting sick or hurting themselves…

 

Ever since my rescue squad decided not to renew our contract with the village for EMS calls, our call volume has dropped immensely.  We used to cover the entire town, now we just cover the township/unincorporated areas.  That means, we are only getting 1/3 of the call volume we used to have… which needless to say, makes my 12 and 24 hour shifts boring as hell.  But more often than not, I go in just to do chores around the station, and spend the rest of the shift watching TV or sleeping.

Without going into all the drama that started this whole “no village contract”, I’m fed up with the resulting drama even more.  At my department, Fire and Rescue is/was ran separate (except for certain types of calls) and because a Chief from rescue over 30 years ago had a wife who slept with the fire Chief, the two sides seemed to hold the grudge and never really got along.
Get the hell over it.

 

I’ve complained before about the crap my department and the people I’ve met in the last 5 years of being in EMS, have been slowly but surely tarnishing my love and reasons for going into the job.  But for the first time the reason I don’t want to go to the firehouse isn’t because of internal/home life/personal stress, but because of another reason…  One I’m not sure if I’m right about, or if I’m just to scared to admit it to myself…

The politics in the EMS field are beyond anything I ever imagined when I decided to become an EMT.  To be honest, before I decided to pursue EMS, I never thought twice about the politics or anything behind-the-scene of the field.  I only ever thought of the ambulance… the calls… being in uniform and what it would be like, feel like, to do the job.

After the last almost 2 years of everything that my department has been through… the way my own so-called “brothers” on the fire side have acted…  how firefighters/EMS personnel from other departments, private or 911, have looked at or regarded me for wearing my departments name on the uniform…  how the village officials have treated the situation and grouped the innocent people on my department into the “Guilty” lot…  I’m fed up, if not done.  I’m already fighting a battle with the DUI on my background to be able to get a job in EMS, and to be judged on that is going to be hard enough to overcome.   But now, I’m also going to have to be judged simply for being on the department I’ve been on for 4 years.

 

I’ve learned that no matter how many times I prove that I know how to do my job, and that I’m good at it, doesn’t matter as much as the name of the squad on my uniform…  The village officials are doing everything they can to get my squad shut down, ignoring the fact that all the “rotten” has been cut out and completing all the changes and requests put upon the squad, not just from the village, but from the state as well.

 

Everyone tells me to “Just find a job on another department, or a private company”.  It’s not that easy for me.  Like I mentioned, I’m still dealing with the effects and aftermath of my DUI…  I still have time that needs to pass before privates can/will hire me. I still have to deal with the look the interviewer gives me when they read “***** Dept” on my resume…  Not to mention, that right now the only EMS license I have is state, and not national.  I’m limited to places I can apply, no matter how many state lines I’m close to.   Okay, I can deal with that, I’ve been doing that since 2011…  however, do I want to deal with all the people already working for the companies in my area?  Not really.  There are only 3 privates near me, and 85% of the people I know work for them, and an even bigger percent of those people, all work for the same private.

These are all the people who have helped ruin my enjoyment for the job.  These are the same people trashing my department and looking down on me for being a part of my squad.  These people are on the fire side of my building.  They made it clear how they feel about me on a professional level, and a personal level without even knowing me.

 

I love my job, what I get to do when the tones go off and I’m in the rig.  Everything else about it is… well, honestly…  miserable.  Or has slowly become miserable.  My quad is pretty big, and I know most of the people, and after all this time….  I don’t want to work with 98% of them.  But I don’t want to quit either.  I feel like the only way I can save my love for this job is to start doing it somewhere completely different.  Far enough away that the department or company I get on, has never heard of the issues that my current department has dealt with.

With the doubts I’m having right now I don’t know if paramedic school next Fall has a point…  I definitely have to figure something out when it comes to my future in EMS before I make the decision to pay $4000+ for a license in a job I may not want to continue much longer.

 

Decisions, decisions.

Getting Settled, Moving Forward

Its been exactly one month since my last entry…  That’s how busy I’ve been finishing up the move, not to mention I finally got the internet hooked up 4 days ago.

So, we are officially moved.  Completely.  It was a pain in the ass, but its done.  I can finally just relax.  No more worrying about the old house and cops showing up to change the locks.  Now, I can just worry about normal shit… like the rescue squad, and boys, and when the next MDR show is.

Not much has happened since my last entry…..  I turned 27 and spent the night celebrating with a MDR concert, good friends, and lots of drinks…..  My mom, Grandpa, and I are still all settling into the new house.  Its mostly together, with some few knickknacks still trying to find their place……  Grandpa had a run-in with a 10-gallon fish tank and had to get stitches.  I actually caught the old man trying to cover the wound with regular band-aids.  When I tried convincing him to go to the hospital, he wasn’t hearing it.  He finally gave in, and came home with 13 stitches.  Don’t say I didn’t tell you so!!!  I took him to his Doctor for a follow-up to make sure it was healing okay.  His Doc pulled out the stitches, and gave him a good bill of health.  His blood tests from June were all normal, and Doc said his lungs were clearer than he had ever heard them.  That was great news.

Since the move completed I’ve just been working, hanging out with friends, going to local concerts and have been trying to relax and enjoy having all that stress gone.  We haven’t been here long, but I can already tell I feel better, and I can see that grandpa feels better too.

I need to start getting a grip on some other things.  I definitely want to go to medic class next year, so in the mean time I have to get my prereq in Anatomy and Physiology.  No more screwing around.  I’m working, the family is moved and the worry of where to go is no longer existent, and I have good friends and family surrounding me.  Its time to start really focusing on me…  I know I’ve said it before, but this time I really need to focus on me…  where I want to go from now on, and the steps to start taking to get there.  Everyone else is okay for now, so yeah… time to start doing things for me again.  Really for me.

 

I’m gonna let whats left of August dwindle, and end it with a trip to the North woods of Wisconsin during Labor Day weekend…  A nice little mini-vacation.  A weekend may only 2.5 days away, but its more than I’ve had in years.  Going to take the time to empty my head and try and get a handle on the next steps.  After that, its going to be time to put my nose back to the grindstone.  Start saving up to pay off the next cousin, figure out how to pay for my A & P class, and starting getting myself ready for the next phase/steps/whatever you want to call them.  

Suck my Stress Level

Stressed doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel these days.  I’m so frustrated and done with this whole house foreclosure thing.  I wish I could blink and the whole situation would go away.  You know, pull a Barbra Eden from ‘I Dream of Jeanie” and make the situation better.
*Does the Genie Move*  Yeah, no such luck.

Unfortunately, until my family and I find a place to go, that feeling isn’t going to subside anytime soon.

Stress is something I’ve been familiar with my entire life.  It’s always accompanied me, no matter what.  I can’t remember a single time in my life where I didn’t feel it.  Even as a teenager, I was always worried and stressing about things that should have been a parents issue to stress over.  However, when you grow up with a mom who treats you more like a friend than a kid-to-be-parented, it’s no wonder I started stressing to soon.

Its weird though…  When I had my own apartment and was married, my stresses were different.  Instead of freaking out about everyone’s issues, I only had to worry about my own. It was much easier to stress about my bills, my rent, my car, my this or my that…  It’s so much harder having to stress about my grandpa, and all the issues stemming from his health to the house situation.  In that short time I was out of the house, I was able to escape my mom and all her stresses, and the way she laid it all out on me simply because it’s what she does.  At least when I had my own place, she wasn’t able to come into my bedroom whenever she wanted and start yelling and freaking out about whatever was on her mind.  Nowadays she can corner me whenever she wants, so long as I am home.  Whereas back then, she had to pick up the phone, or drive over in order to take it out on me.

Work stress, moving stress, living stress, money stress, being-single stress, body image stress…  Whatever.  It’s all there.  The worst part these days?  I either have no time, or energy to do anything about being stressed out.  I’m either at work, at the firehouse, or tired from working or being on the ambulance.  I don’t have much time to do anything, except sleep.  That’s the other thing, with everything going on and my busy work schedule, all I ever want to do when I get a moment to myself is sleep.  I find that most days, after I get home from work, I can’t do anything but end up taking a nap, whether I mean it or not.  Which in turn just keeps me up the rest of the night once I wake up, and tires me out for the next work day.  I need to start using that tiredness and somehow turning it into something else…  It seems like the only time I ever go out, or do anything for myself is when I go out MDR concerts.

I don’t even know how to de-stress myself anymore.  MDR doesn’t play near me every weekend, so I need to find something else to do…  I crave company all the time, and seeing as I’m (and most people I know) are in our late 20’s, everyone is either working, parenting, or living their own busy lives.  It used to be that I when I was stressed, I would just smoke some pot, but with my ambulance and Doctor office job, I gave that up long ago…  Ironically, I noticed that is when I started to gain weight like crazy.  

It’s a lot of bitching and moaning, I know… but I’m honestly not sure how to fix it.  I know that if I could get this house issue off my back, then I could finally start to relax and see other ways to start stressing, and find new ways to get rid of it.  If I didn’t have to worry about this house stuff, I could move on to stressing about normal things… my own stresses… not other peoples mistakes and stress.

So the house hunt continues, therefore the current stress level stays the same and rises each day.  However, I am determined to change the small things that I can in the meantime.  Now that it is nice, I no longer have an excuse to leave the house and do something active… whether its riding my bike, or picking up extra shifts at the station (Hey, I get paid now… why not?).  Either way, with the house situation, or not… I still need to take control of my stress, and the stresses being put on me, and just try and deal better than I have been.

Tomorrow, I AM going for a bike ride after work.  I don’t care how tired I am.  I have to start working through the “tired” and getting off my ass instead of giving into naps.  I know that will help tremendously with my stress level.  No more Less bitching and complaining… In the words of Jim Carrey in “Liar, Liar”…

It’s all a matter of will power!

The Knot at the End of my Rope Feels Like its Coming Undone

Five… Four… Three… Two… One…  Commence breakdown.  

Tonight I finally lost it… spent a good hour in my car with my ambulance partner in the parking lot of the firehouse screaming, crying, swearing, and scaring the shit out of him with my honest thoughts and comments (that usually I would keep to myself… even from him).

Too say I’ve been overwhelmed lately is nothing short of an understatement from Hell.  With getting my wisdom teeth pulled (and trying to pay for it), packing the house and STILL looking for a place to move to (down to less than 30 days with no prospects), working at the Doc office where I get called stupid on a weekly basis by my boss, and working double shifts at the firehouse for the entire month of March (Remember, I’m just a volunteer) I’m burnt out.

Tonight I went to the monthly meeting at the firehouse, and I went for a specific purpose…  To collect on a deal/”promise” that my Chief had made me in exchange for working Sunday nights as well as my regular Thursday night shifts.  As unfair or immoral as it may have been, my Chief knew I’ve been going through hard times and knows about the house-situation with my family, he told me he would help me out financially if I covered an extra weeknight for a month.  So, five extra unpaid shifts later he welches.

Writing about this makes me feel like I’m breaking his confidence and makes me feel guilty… makes me feel like somehow, no matter how hard I’ve worked on keeping any and all names, places, and people out of this blog, that somehow I’m going to get someone, if not myself,  in trouble…                             However, he backed out.  He didn’t pay up.  There was no set amount…  but no matter what the amount he would have given me, I was counting on that cash to help out with all the shit going on.  Had I known that he was going to screw me out of the promise, I would have never went to the dentist and got my teeth pulled, something that I couldn’t afford…  no matter how bad my teeth were getting.  I’d have some money pocketed for our security deposit for wherever we end up (if it’s not the street first), I’d maybe even have been able to save up some cash to pay off another cousin.  I could have used those 5 nights to help pack up the house, and maybe have a lot more done than we do now…

The deceitful promise broken to me by my Chief (one person I actually trusted to help me) tonight finally pushed me over the edge and I had a full-on emotional meltdown.

I’m sick of people.  I’m sick of doing things to help out others when its obvious that no one is willing to help me.  I’m sick of covering my coworkers ass at work so she can go work day shifts at the firehouse and make more money.  I’m sick of bullshit calls at the firehouse, having people misuse the EMS system and treating us like a cab service.  I’m sick of my grandpa with all his secrets and asking me to buy him cigarettes when he is on oxygen 24 hours/day with COPD.  I’m sick of my mom with her un-medicated mood swings and untreated car-accident-related brain damage.  I’m sick of my cousin texting me at work to watch her kid, or straight up dropping her off at my house without even asking.  I’m sick of my Aunts and their callous disregard for their father’s health and home situation.

The only person I can rely on these days is my ambulance partner…. and most of the time I think it’s just because he wants to get in my pants.  I’m so hardened towards people lately that I can’t (or won’t… not sure which) even let myself trust that the one person that I know has been there for me the last few months is really there for me… or for himself.  He’s a good person, a rare type of male that I’m not used to in my life… instead of embracing what is a great friend and support system I desperately need right now, I’m feeling cold and untrusting towards him and the reasons he wants to ride with me, or watch a hockey game off shift, or go get a pizza.

I am sick of feeling like the world is against me.  I know that the world isn’t actually against me… but it would be nice if I could feel like it wasn’t.  I’m even more fed up with thinking that no matter how hard I try to be what I think is a decent human being or no matter what I change, no matter how positive I try to look at things… that life will always be a struggle, a fight.  That I won’t always have to worry about this or that… that I can have some sense of stability .. a sense of trust… a sense of comfort.  Even if its small.  I wish that I could wake up one day, JUST ONE DAY, and not have to worry about this, that, or the other thing.  One day isn’t too much to ask… is it?  

One day I want to feel like I can fully trust another person…  Whether that person is a friend, family, or lover.  I don’t care which one, just someone…  I hope to one day feel like all my struggles, fighting, bad times, and refusal to give up on this hell I’m currently living will eventually be worth it.  I hope that I can look back and laugh… look back and think “Hell, Leah… look at where you are now.  You were still a dumbass when you were 26….”

Just Another “Girl Feels Fat” Rant

I get that I’ve bitched about it recently, I do…  
However, knowing the scale at my house 
and the one at my job are both off
by who knows how many pounds, 
I haven’t been sure of my current weight…

Went to the Doc the other day, and of course I had to get weighed.  

The damage?
{honestly}
*Deep Breath* Here goes….

156 Lbs.  

Un–Fucking–Acceptable.

I about shit myself.  I’m only 5’0.
According to all the medical weight/height charts
I’m classified as “Extra Large”.  
Nope, not gonna happen… Er, I mean not going to stay that way.
My goal is a “Small” Frame {104-115 lbs}

Now before anyone jumps up my ass about being shallow or vain… 
Understand where I’m coming from…
I’m only 5’0, and since HS I’ve fit into nothing but size 5’s or 7’s.  I just want to get back down to that. 

So here’s to a change.  My plans:

1) No More Soda – Only water, juice, or Gatorade.
2) No More Beer – Drinking will be limited to social functions and outings.
3) Smaller Meal Portions
and with that…
4) No More “One Meal a Day” shit. 
 {I need to start eating like a normal person, on a normal schedule.  You know… That one meal in the beginning of the day… I think its called “Breakfast”???
And no more dinner meals after 8 PM.}
5) Lemonade Diet
6) Gym Membership
{Hey, I can afford one, why not?  
It will give me an actual reason to go work out so I don’t waste the money.}
7) Start taking advantage of the work-out equipment at the firehouse in-between calls
8) Regulating my sleep patterns.  Sounds dumb, but it will actually help.  

*Le Sigh*  
There is one thing I will miss about my weight gain…  
My boobs are huuuuge, like they no-longer fit in my bra’s or hands huge…  
Of course, as soon as the weight starts coming off
its Bye-Bye Big Boobs.  

Oh-well, I’d rather my boobs be smaller and be more happy, physically healthy and 
able to fit into my EMS clothes and favorite pair of jeans again than have huge boobs.
Besides if I really want big boobs, there’s always surgery
😉

Another 365 Days Past…

Holy End-of-the-Year Batman!!!

I can’t believe there is only 24 hours left of 2012.  This year flew by faster than I realized.  So much has changed in the last 12 months.  Some for the better, some not.  It’s funny how time passes.  You either realize it, or you don’t.

This time last year I was still unemployed, still miserable and dealing with the effects of my DUI, dealing with personal drama, and spent most of my time wishing I was anyone but me.  I hated everything I had put myself through, everything that people had made me feel, and mostly hated myself and who I was.

This year, life has changed… s  l  o  w  l  y, but it’s getting better.  I managed to start putting my DUI behind me by finishing the last of the requirements and even starting to put a dent in the chunk of money I owe family members for all their financial help for court/fines.  Thinking about it now, I can’t believe that it was almost 2 years ago…  It still seems like yesterday that I was waking up to my mom yelling and shoving tickets in my face.   The effects of the DUI will stay with me forever.  It will haunt my background and always come up in future job interviews on ambulances.  At this point, I’m still not “hire-able” because the insurance cost’s to cover an employee with a DUI are disgustingly high.  The soonest I can expect to be considered for an ambulance job is 2014 (Only one more year!)  I’m still volunteering at my rescue squad (three years now) so my foot is still holding the door open.  I love my EMS job and won’t give up trying to get hired.  One more year and more doors will start to open.  Just have to keep my head up.

In the meantime, I’ve finally gotten off of unemployment, or rather my benefits ended…  It took 15 months and hundreds of online job applications, but I finally got my ass back into the work force.  September, a crew member from my rescue squad hooked me up with a job at a Doctor office.  The best part?  Its ten minutes down the road.  The crappy part?  The Doc is a jerk and I have to tolerate being called “stupid” in front of patients for his mistakes and little things like not putting 20 pieces of tape on an IV line.  Each day, I wake up and shake of the bullshit from the day before, and be thankful that I have a job.  I think about kittens and glitter as he bashes me and remind myself of how lucky I am to be employed and how good it will look on a future resume and for my medic class.  Oh, and medic class?  Never made it this year.  But it’s still in my future.  With everything going on, I needed to be in a more stable area of my life to take on that heavy load.  Maybe next year?  For now, I’m happy volunteering at my squad, working, paying of debt, and taking care of things that need to be tended too.

I’ve focused on trying to surround myself with healthy people.  I have spent much time with my niece, who is now 3 years-old, and the rest of my family.  I’ve gotten closer to the people I’ve worked with for the past three years on the rescue squad, and gotten to see that I can have fun with them and be myself.  I don’t have to worry about them accepting the person I am outside the firehouse, because I finally see that I’m pretty much the person that they see inside the station.  For some reason I saw myself as two different people, ‘EMT Leah’ and ‘Real Leah’.  Turns out ‘Real Leah’ was ‘EMT Leah’.  I don’t know why I was afraid to show my crew members who I was outside the firehouse.  They love me no matter what.  A handful of them really are that second family the job gives you, if your lucky.  It’s a little sad that it took me 26 years to really crack open who I really am, but its better late than never.

When 2012 started, I hoped for the best but expected the worst.  After all, it usually is the story of my life…  However, this year I really focused on me.  I turned down numerous dates (that I knew would go nowhere), I turned down people I care for and care for me, because I have to work on some issues.  I still need to focus on me, my life.  Getting it all back together again.  I don’t want to be half way to getting on my feet and get tripped up by silly relationships or bullshit emotions.  I put my heart out this year, and it was stomped on.  After Andy, I “dated” one guy, who I honestly didn’t care about… this year N* and I reconnected, stronger than ever… and I thought that maybe this time he and I had a real shot to be together.  I decided to put my heart out there, only to have it ripped out…. more than I would like to admit.  It just reaffirmed to me that I’m still not ready to be a in a relationship, and even more so, made me re-think a relationship that I most likely, threw away.  Did I make the right choice last year?  Did I make a huge mistake?  I’m not sure, because it seems like Andy is doing better than ever, and I wonder if would have made the changes and strides he made, and I not broken his heart?

With all that gushy shit said…  I’ve also realized something else this year, slightly related and unrelated to the last paragraph.  I want a baby.  So much so, that it scares me.  I want to be a mother.  I want a little mini-me to mold, teach, love, and hold.  I am going to be 27 in 2013.  The place I am now, it not where I expected to be at this age…  I have no intentions of rushing out and making a baby, but I want one.  I watched my niece grow the last three years, and this year finally got to see how cool and fun motherhood will be.  The “When are you going to have one?” remarks from my mom aren’t helping.  Watching my niece makes me excited to think about the future, what the next year may (or may not) hold.  I can’t wait to get back on my feet and get into a solid relationship.  I am excited to think about what will happen once I get all that together.

I pulled a lot together in 2012 that I didn’t expect.  I become more comfortable with myself as an individual.  I found a job in this rough economy.  I made friends with people I’ve known for years.  I quit a bad habit that has been a crutch since I was 14.  I found out a little bit more about myself.  I’ve grown up a little bit more.  I’ve hurt people, and been hurt.  I’ve been proud of myself, and even prouder of others.  I’ve learned about myself, and about people I care about.  I went to concerts (2 Justin Moore shows{thank you} and a handful of MDR shows) and had good times sober {or sober enough to remember, lol}).  I put myself out there in ways that I haven’t in a long time, and it felt good.  I only hope to do it more next year!

I can’t wait to see what 2013 holds!  Seeing as the world didn’t end on the 21st, I would say that things are looking pretty good.  I can’t wait until I pay off all my family members and get to the point where I can get myself a few nice things before I start stashing cash for an apartment!  I can’t wait to see how many hearts I break, or how many break mine (sounds goofy, I know).  I can’t wait to truck through 2013 and hit 2014, to get on a paid ambulance, maybe (HOPEFULLY) as a medic!  I can’t wait to find out if my fundraiser idea for the squad gets picked up, so I can put it together!  I can’t wait to see who I meet and the good and bad times I have.  This year isn’t ending all that bad… I can’t wait to see what next year holds.  All I know, it I’m ending and beginning it with a MDR show, and that to me, is one of the best ways to start the New Year! ♥ ♥ ♥