Learning to walk again

…both metaphorically and literally.

I’ve been out of work since the abdominal drama a while back, and it’s made me think hard about what I want out of life and how I got turned around. Mostly this is an internal dialogue, but I just put this in for those who know what I am talking about.

I had prospects, great prospects, and I took a few off ramps, mostly for other people. My family gives me shit for not coming through, but mostly it was for them. I missed a lot, the world changed, I missed them. Now, it’s a thousand years later, and I’m being cryptic on wordpress because I can’t talk to them about it. Excuses, they’d say. Or so it goes in my head.

Perfectionism is something I inherited, and I often feel like I’m never doing enough. And now I feel like my friends and family are passing me by, while I stand wondering what happened.

Most people outside the situation give me reassurance in the form of, “Hello, you just went through a series of surgeries, which are major life events”. And part of my answers that, and part of me doesn’t hear it, or can’t hear it. So, I’m the black sheep, the disappointment… and when I try to paint my wool, you can see right through it.


Trying to keep up with you…

So, you guys know that “Losing my Religion” was not about actual religion, right? To me, it’s common knowledge, but I wasn’t sure if people would get it if I chose that for a title.

It was/is an expression, basically meaning, “at your wits’ end”, and that’s where I’m finding myself today. It’s been pouring and grey and windy all day- only now I see a beautiful little bit on sunset. I’ve spent today in my lady cave, sorta pondering the mysteries of my own private universe.

Things with the roomy are on and off, and honestly, it makes things hard sometimes. As a creative type, I feel things pretty intensely- some say, too intensely, but then again, that’s what makes me… me… you know?

I’m working on the job thing, and while I don’t want or need ‘How To’ advice on that front, I could use some virtual pats on the back. When I’m feeling sad about other stuff, it’s hard to find the self-confidence I need to put in a nice application. Is this common? Do you ever feel this way? I hope it’s not just me. I kinda wanted to make a reference to Manic Monday in this post too, but my Monday isn’t Manic. I just feel losery in the way that song describes, except they are referring to actually having a job. Ah well, big-haired nostalgia helps anyway.


Me Update


I’ve been struggling to find words for this blog, so in lieu of a mighty creative post, here are just a few little updates:

I’m looking for a job now. I’d like to say that’s what’s keeping me off of here, but that’s not really true.

My health is coming along. Aside from an epic fall on some pavement the other day, resulting miraculously in only a skinned knee and some bruising, I’m doing alright.

Weight gain. I really, really don’t know what to do about this. It might be the surgical menopause. It might be the medications I needed post-surgery. But, I am huge. I don’t like this, but what’s the alternative?

Exercise. I am happy enough with having my mobility back.  I don’t know exactly what I can and cannot handle. Working on working this out.

Food. The weight gain isn’t entirely from food. There are one or two things I’ve changed for the worse, but all in all, I eat similarly, and for some reason, am bigger. So, here, what do I do, right? I guess I am really just trying for some balance- more protein, bringing back some of my older, better habits.



Come sit by me, Charlie.


I don’t really know how I feel this holiday season. I was feeling in the spirit a few weeks ago, but now, not so much. At the moment, I feel a little bit like this guy.

This has been one crazy year. The Year of The Surgeries… and they’re all good- not regretting any of it. It’s just The Surgeries lead to The Talks, and that’s what’s getting to me.

I’m going to fictionalize this a bit because I care about those involved, but I also need my internet friends right now. About 3/4 of the way through my first recovery, Roommate gave me shit for not doing housework. Trust me, I know how silly this sounds- I was there. I remember picking things up with my toes and uttering made-up swear words.

For perspective, and to be fair, Roommate has been dealing my bodily malfunctions for years now. I never asked to be sick. It took courage to face fixing the problems. I didn’t think I’d be dealing with this, too.

At the end of every round of surgery/procedure/whatever, Roommate calmly told me how much I sucked- that I didn’t help around, that I didn’t pull my fair share, that I expected too much. So, with this surgery… Yes, surgery, I went into it expecting to go back to tempjob right away. Did I want to? Does it matter? On the one hand, yes I did. I liked the work and the people. On the other, most people have a much longer recovery time.

I managed to convince my Dr that I would follow any and all advice. Triumphantly, I held that little piece of paper in my hand… only to have Roommate start again with the same lecture, and again reminding me that if I don’t clean up my act, that eviction is imminent.

I can’t afford to stand on my own right now. As it is, I am lucky to even be standing. I was told to come up with a plan- as if I haven’t had one all along. You can plan until you are blue in the face, but life doesn’t always go your way.

TL;DR: I’m scared.



The Highlight Reel


I have to have another surgery. I am scared.

Girlfriend and I had Issues. Things are looking up now.

I started a temp job.

My laundry is really backed up right now, and I’m trying to catch up before I have limited mobility again.

I’m kind of tired of crazy things being wrong with me, but at the same time, I’m very very grateful for the outstanding care.

It turns out my forehead reacts to soda. Of course it does… /Sarcasm/

I’ve been drinking more coffee than ever, partly because I couldn’t for so long. This may change back again…

I mentioned before that I can now drink milk, and I have been, almost every day.

I gained SO MUCH WEIGHT, you guys… I didn’t even know this was possible. I am delighted that I can eat things I couldn’t digest easily before, but something is up with the way I am digesting my food. It scares me not knowing if this will change from good to bad or not.




I have to go see another surgeon- just to talk, but still… This may result in another surgery, it may not. The talk is scheduled for a while from now, which is both good and bad: Good, because well, it’s October, and I want to do Halloween-type things; Bad, because I have time to mull it over. The thing is, there isn’t much to mull over just yet- only the fact that there is an appointment scheduled, but fear being what it is, it can mess with your mind a little bit.

I’ve been extremely, incredibly, unbelievably lucky. I just… don’t want to chance it, you know? Part of me wants to leave well enough alone, but part of me also knows that if it’s best to go ahead and take care of it, I will.

I’ve been so lucky on the food front. I don’t say this to brag, *at all*. It’s just, for longtime readers, you guys know what I went through- Every time I wanted to try a recipe, it had to be modified- sometimes, pretty extensively. So far, things have been really good, almost unbelievably good. I’m almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, (which, technically was Piper’s fear, but I couldn’t find a good picture of it).

I don’t feel like being back in a hospital (eventually, maybe, possibly), but I also don’t feel like worrying about bad things inside of me creating havoc amongst my internals. I also fear speaking these fears, because I don’t want it to look like I’m unappreciative of the excellent care I’ve had thus far.

I’ve been doing really well, considering. It’s just hard to face Fear.