I need to grow up and start believing in myself.

I realized after another rough weekend that I allow the negative words of others to deeply affect me.  Like why do I care about what some friend of Dan's thinks regarding me?  Was I actually naive enough to think he wanted to speak with me?  Actually, yes.  Do I still make excuses for people and say they are nice and would never purposefully try to harm me?  Yes, I do.  

I don't even want to type his name again.  But my ex-boyfriend is not worth my time or energy, be it positive or negative.  I no longer care what he thinks, and I no longer want to be angry about it.  I want to let it go.  I want to also let go of all my negativity I feel regarding work.  I have so much anger and frustration when it comes to how others work, and I'm so hard on myself--why can't I chart faster, why are the tasks just never-ending?  

At the end of the day, I need to give myself praise.  I need to set an alarm EVERY morning and not just wake up when I feel like it, too.  I work so hard and give everything to my patients and literally nothing to myself, I pretty much just rest and relax when I'm off, gearing up for more work.  I don't want this type of life for myself anymore.  I'm tired of it. I need to wake up early and go to be on time.  I need my rest.  I look awful.  I need to do my laundry and clean and function like a grown human.  My world around me has just been crumbling and I told myself I needed someone else to help me put myself back together again, and I don't.  I need people in my life, yes.  I need to learn also to ask for help from my friends.  Instead of just being on the sidelines like I just want to tap out and then being angry at them for not reaching out...how could they possibly know if I don't tell them?  I can do this is the bottom-line.  I love myself.  Every day I will start to say it.  And no, brain, it's not stupid.  Because I'm 34 and I don't feel loved and it starts with the way I treat myself.  So here it is:  I FUCKING LOVE MYSELF.  I am going to try to commit to myself in earnest.  No bullshit, no more excuses.

When I'm feeling sad I like to read Ernest Hemingway quotes sometimes.  

Like "The first draft of anything is shit."

"Forget your personal tragedy.  We are all bitched from the start and especially have to be hurt like hell before you can write seriously.  But when you get the damned hurt, use it--don't cheat with it."

"Write hard and clear about what hurts."

"The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting you are special too."

All Ernest Hemingway, of course.

On Sunday I took care of a patient who broke my heart.  Anyone child who is dying and knows he is dying has a certain look.  It's common in the adult world, but in pediatrics they so rarely give up.  And to see them resign themselves and to know what is coming, man is it fucking hard.  Not so much for me so much as it is for the teenager alone doing it.  It breaks my damn heart really and truly.  

So I guess it was there after all;)  Fully capable of repairing itself, mending anew only to break all over again.  What a portrait we paint, eh?  

I wish you would call.  I know you won't, but I wish you would.  The tequila brings out the wishes.  Humans aren't like cats, another Hemingway gem.  We hide our emotions.  We drink them away.  Until we shoot ourselves in the head with them.

When I drink, I get lonely. I get lost in memories of you in this apartment. 

I call and you don’t answer. 

I’ll be so angry with myself tomorrow. But tonight I only want you. Your curls. Your blue eyes. Your laugh. Your fierce hug. The absence of you smacks. 

What I wouldn’t give to be with you in Muir or Sanibel or any of my favorite places of the universe. To share them with you. How I miss you when my defenses are no more. 

I have white hairs. And my under eye area looks so sunken. In the past year I feel as though I have aged ten. But I also feel more comfortable forgoing makeup, with bare skin.

Mostly when I look in the mirror I see someone supremely sad. I feel like even when I smile now my eyes give me away. 

wanting to fast-forward

I'm in  a horribly sad mood.  I tried calling Dan.  Sometimes I do just to hear his voice, which is pathetic.  And I started crying and hung up because it was the bizarre automated recording talking about transcribing your message.  I had just watched this series called I know this much is true on HBO and I was desperate for human connection.  And of course the most absurd place to ever find it again is from Dan.  But when I'm feeling really desolate I find comfort there still.  And it makes me feel really ashamed and small and the only thing I tell is this blog.  

The series was stunning.  I am still kind of needing to sit in quiet and be alone after completing it.  I cried throughout it, and really connected with it emotionally at times.  It was painful to watch at points.  The end wasn't the hardest-hitting, the writing kind of cheapened a bit for me.  I might like to read the book it was based upon.  

I'm so ashamed of myself.  I think it's ridiculous that I reach out.  I don't know why I do.  I just feel like I've lost everything.  I have no home, no family.  I lost my marriage, I lost my chance at having children.  I look down sometimes and I'm like wow, you are a joke.  You are such a failure.  I'm so good at helping other people, God.  I don't know how to help myself.  It probably speaks volumes that I isolate the fuck out of myself and reach out repeatedly to someone who literally left me without one word of explanation one day and proceeded to block me out entirely from his life thereafter.

What is wrong with me, God?  Why did he have to break me heart and cut me out and then keep working at the same place?  I'm not strong enough for this.  It's been months of dreading every day of going in for fear I might have to see him.  I've lost weight.  My blood pressure and heart rate are up.  I'm trying to work out, to meditate, to help myself.  But when does it really get better?  When will I not care?  When will I want to date someone else, let alone sleep with someone else?  I cannot fathom it.  And I so badly want a family of my own.  I was holding a baby the other day at work and I looked down and he was so sweet and I literally almost started sobbing.  I know I'm not okay.  And I also feel like no one else sees me.  And it's like am I really doing that great a job of pretending or do people just kind of not care that I'm slowly just killing myself every day at work?  Because I'm so exhausted.  I am so, so very tired.

watch the sun rise

If you don't know the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac, perhaps you live beneath a rock of some kind.  But it is beautiful and unique--the layering of it is so super cool.  It has a super cool feel to it, and was recorded in 1976.  Of note, it was "assembled" (yes, quoting wiki here, but it itself cited its sources) at the Record Plant in Sausalito, California.  And you know that while I myself will never again find myself living in Marin County, I have crazy love for its beauty and I felt perhaps most myself there when I was outdoors.  I love Northern California and its natural beauty.  The people that live in Marin are another thing entirely haha.  But yeah, the drums and the guitar parts were the only parts they recorded in one another's company.  Interesting, eh?  I really love the song.  Plus Stevie is fucking bad-ass.  Here are the lyrics:  

The Chain

Fleetwood Mac

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

And if, you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

And if you don't love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying
You would never break the chain (Never break the chain)

Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)
Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)
Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)
Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)
Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)
Chain keep us together (running in the shadow)

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Christine McVie / John Mc Vie / Lindsey Buckingham / Mick Fleetwood / Stephanie Nicks

The Chain lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Reach Music Publishing

I feel my luck could change

In my humble opinion, one of the best songs of all time.  But you have to listen in a big way, either with headphones or good speakers or something.  It is fucking amazing.

I was lucky today.  Took care of two amazing patient families, and the most special 20 year-old renal patient.  Really neat kid.  His mom gave him his kidney.  His dad was like okay, how do I give you this award.  And I looked at him and was aghast--truly.  I told them that they made my job so easy, that it was honestly a pleasure to do it and I loved my job.  And yeah, I was lucky.  It was a fucking glorious day.

Lucky

Radiohead

I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll this time
I feel my luck could change

Kill me, Sarah
Kill me again with love
It's gonna be a glorious day

Pull me out of the aircrash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge

The head of state has called for me by name
But I don't have time for him
It's gonna be a glorious day
I feel my luck could change

Pull me out of the aircrash
Pull me out of the lake
'Cause I'm your superhero
We are standing on the edge

We are standing on the edge

write it on your heart

Okay.  I am obviously losing it today.  So we entertain a bit of Ralph Waldo Emerson for the win:

"He said, 'Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.  He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.  Finish every day and be done with it.  You have done what you could.  Some blunders and absurdities, no doubt crept in.  Forget them as soon as you can, tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely, with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.  This new day is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.'"

Okay, this seems like a tall order.  But a girl can try.

I love you, God.  I am truly grateful for every breath, for every day.  For the glorious life that I live, for the job that I found myself doing after I tried and failed and tried again--I truly love what I do and know not many people get to do that in life.  For this I consider myself truly blessed, and exceptionally grateful.  I am humbled.  I love my family, I am challenged by my coworkers and friends and also love them immensely and feel loved in return.  My dog is pretty much the best thing ever.  And definitely gives the best cuddles.  Thank you, God.  I love you.  I will aim higher.  I will try to shine brighter.

I'm listening to this song that just came on, Something about you by--Odesza Remix by Hayden James.  And it's like, "What about a hit of your love?"  

And that's what it feels like.  Withdrawal.  I see my kids go through it all the time at work.  I feel like I'm withdrawing and fucking miserable for months.

Pleading.  Just a little bit.  C'mon.

I fucking love you.

Just a little.  

C'mon.  

To be naked, in your arms.  Warm and loved.  In love.  There is nothing better.  But I don't want anyone else.  No swapsies.  

What the legit fuck is wrong with me.

never have i ever been so sorry: fucked up again.

Cloyde had me watch this show, Never Have I Ever.  I said, I'm sorry.  I don't do fluff.  I'm into HBO dramas like The Wire or miniseries like Chernobyl or witty comedies like old-school Arrested Development.  I don't do what looks to be teen fluff.  But I said I'd give him one episode.  I watched the whole damn thing in two days and ended up sobbing.  I loved it.  Loved it.

I could relate in some ways.  I mean, my friends were those girls.  We were the so-called AP outcasts, that "UN"--the unfuckable, only I just so happened to be the tiniest, nerdiest white girl in my class.  I could relate to going to my best friend Priya's in my junior year of high school and having her mom prepare dinner knowing I was going to be in attendance (basically, dinner for me pre adding in a lot of additional spices for the rest of the family haha--she did this without my asking, I think she just knew having moved to the States from India so many years beforehand).  I would have done anything to have a cool boyfriend, but really not...because when push came to shove, I let another girl give the boy I liked a blow-job.  I wasn't ready and that was okay.  My girlfriends were really amazing, and made me strong and determined, and fuck.  I think I actually learned a decent amount of shit in high school.  So I did actually really enjoy that show.  I could relate to a lot of things even though it centered on a different culture and focused on a girl experiencing a big loss.  I dealt with my own losses in different ways I suppose.  And had a lot of fucking anger and a temper too.

Still do.  I lashed out at the person I still love.  Who in fact hates me.  Who only reads the texts I send when I send the ugliest, nastiest texts ever in life.  Yesterday was the one year anniversary of a favorite patient's death.  I still have a hard time thinking about it.  I still remember bathing her and putting on these really ugly pajama pants and being upset that it didn't feel right, that everything felt so wrong and what I would have done to see her smile one last time.  Mostly I always remember the good memories obviously, but this was that one day.  So I was angry.  And even a year ago I didn't really feel like my ex was there for me when she died, it was odd.  So I sent him this beautiful photo his mom posted to facebook.  With an amazing remembrance.  And of course he didn't read it.  And then crazy ramblings that became more and more angry and pissed because I'm so hurt that he hasn't ever talked to me since September really and I basically just broke up with myself since he said he needed a break and a week later I said it doesn't feel like a break and he said no after I called many times blah blah blah and I basically dumped me.  Cool.  Anyway, I drank last night and was an asshole.  A major asshole.  No excuse for bad behavior.  Whenever I hurt, I do not allow myself to be sensitive and hurt.  I lash out and get so. very. angry.  I am mean.  I am like a wounded lion.  A wolverine.  A gray wolf.  I am ill-tempered and cruel.  I will say the meanest fucking thing and I do not understand why because I want to howl at the moon, I want to cry, I want to bleed.  I do not allow it of myself.  

I do not know what's wrong with myself.

I asked my psychiatrist this week if it's normal to be so sad.  She nonchalantly asked if I wanted to be on medication.  I said the last time I was on it was years ago and I was afraid because I had not felt anything.  And is it better to be heartbroken and desolate or unfeeling altogether.  She looked at me and said I have a hard time believing you were ever unfeeling you are one of the most feeling people I've ever met.  What the fuck kind of response is that.  If I tell you that is the very thing that petrifies me then believe it.

I love you, Daniel.  I am so sorry.  But you should be too for all the fucking bullshit you have put me through.  And why can we both not say sorry and actually talk and deal with this.  Do you not have feelings the way I do?

I struggle so much with keeping children alive who have no say in the matter who have no parents at the bedside to watch their suffering.  Who literally say that it is too painful to see their child the way they are, and yes, they know they have a terminal illness, but we must (the hospital) give them a trach and G tube so that the suffering (the child's) is further prolonged.  All I can do is be as gentle as possible, provide as much dignity and compassion as I can, be as liberal with pain medications as feasible, and apologize all shift long to a child I pray finds heaven soon.  The things these children endure.  If you could see these wounds, these sores, these physical things.  It is like oh my good Lord, please take them home.  Please.  Please free them.  Because if anyone deserves heaven it is these little angels.  It breaks my heart.  And if I am being forced to watch, it really angers me that the parents aren't by his or her side along the way.  I will always hold a hand.  I will always wipe a face.  I will always tell them I love them.  But it isn't the love of a parent, the hand of a parent.  And that is the biggest indecency that I really struggle with.  I am so truly sorry for these parents--I cannot fathom it.  But goddamn it.  Be there if you are taking the choice away from the child (who in some cases is an 18, 19, 2o year old with that parent making medical decisions on his or her behalf).  

I love all my babies in heaven.  I only wish there weren't so very many of them.  They are more courageous, stronger, and more loving than I can ever hope to be.  

thunder-heart

This is beautiful.  I learned some new words, and I had to read and re-read it to appreciate it.  It's really something:

Oh Wonder

Traci Brimhall

It's the garden spider who eats her mistakesat the end of day so she can billow in the lungof night, dangling from an insecure branchor caught on the coral spur of a dove's foot,and sleep, her spinnerets trailing radials likeungathered hair. It's a million-pound cumulus.It's the troposphere, holding it, miraculous. It'sa mammatus rolling her weight through duskwaiting to unhook and shake free the hail.Sometimes it's so ordinary it escapes your notice—pothos reaching for windows, ease of an avocadoslipping its skin. A porcelain boy with lampblackeyes told me most mammals have the same averagenumber of heartbeats in a lifetime. It is the mouseengine that hums too hot to last. It is the blue whale'sslow electricity—six pumps per minute is the wayto live centuries. I think it's also the hummingbirdI saw in a video, lifted off a cement floor by firefightersand fed sugar water until she was again a tempest.It wasn't when my mother lay on the garage floorand my brother lifted her while I tried to shout louderthan her sobs. But it was her heart, a washable ink.It was her dark's genius, how it moaned slow enoughto outlive her. It is the orca who pushes her dead calfa thousand miles before she drops it or it falls apart.And it is also when she plays with her pod the dayafter. It is the night my son tugs at his pajamacollar and cries: The sad is so big I can't get it all out,and I behold him, astonished, his sadness as cleanand abundant as spring. His thunder-heart, a marvelI refuse to invade with empathy. And outside, cloudsgroan like gods, a garden spider consumes her home.It's knowing she can weave it tomorrow betweencitrus leaves and earth. It's her chamberless heartcleaving the length of her body. It is lifting my soninto my lap to witness the birth of his grieving.

I am utterly heartbroken with all of it. The whole world.