Showing posts with label classes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label classes. Show all posts

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Left Behind: Many Months Of Updates...

I've been dealing with so many things...so much shit I don't know where to begin.... and because of that I'm afraid this blog is going to sound like a rather long self pity party...so let me start with the good.

I've been studying hard and aced my midterm, (got 102% which is because I got the 4 point extra credit but lost 2 points for mislabeling one of my answers) and got a 98% on my final (which I was actually pissed about) which landed me an exact score of 100% for the whole class which means I hold on to that 4.0 GPA....But that's about it for the good news...

As for the bad (and I'll try to keep most of this brief in order to avoid sounding like I'm whining...)...

Lets start with the weight gain since my breakup...
He made me feel like a cow and now I've turned into more of a cow. Granted it's only 10 pounds but that's A LOT! I know part of it is the depression but also how he made me feel before I left. I've come to realized that my weight is my way of hiding from people, especially men, like a protection mechanism. So for instance if I feel bad about myself I don't want people to see me, so I eat more and gain weight, in a sense becoming invisible to most people. The better I feel about myself, and my body, the more I like myself the way I am, the more weight I loose because I don't mind people seeing me. It took me so many years to build up my confidence, to be ok with people noticing me again, and once I started feeling good about myself, even when I was really heavy, is when the weight started to really come off. It's just the way I seem to work. The happier I am with myself, the more weight I loose and the happier I become. The more I hate my body, the more weight I gain, and the more I hate myself. They're a domino effect that once started, is hard to stop. My break up got me falling in the wrong direction and now I'm struggling to catch up and stop it so I can get it moving in the right direction again.
But the break up isn't the only reason I've been gaining weight. Stress worrying over my family is another factor.

First there was my Mom, breaking right wrist on Mothers Day....and yes she is right handed...
We had just gotten back from a great dinner at my aunts house and were walking the dog, when this lady came up on us with her two sheep dogs leading the way. Max was in the middle of peeing on a tree when one of her dogs barked at us, and Max lunged sending my mother flying into the sidewalk face first, her feet unstable because of the trees roots. I saw her fall, forward on her hands and knew from the way she landed that it was bad, but had to chase after Max before things got worse. So jumping into the dog fight without even thinking about how dangerous that is, I got my hands on Max, got him in control and rushed back to my mother to help her up. From the way she was holding her right wrist I knew she was hurt bad, but it wasn't till I asked her if she was ok, and she replied "no", an answer she never gives me, that I knew we were headed to the ER.
She had fractured her wrist and broke her ring finger to the point that they needed to put pins in and she had to go on disability, so since that night I've been running the house.
I walk the dog, cook, clean, fill out forms and pay what bills that need checks or signatures (as my mom can't write with her left hand) all while going to school, and work. I guess the silver lining in all this is that I always knew I could run a house, but it's different now that I'm actually doing it. Sure I'm exhausted, but its a "proud of myself" kind of exhaustion, and by stepping up without being asked, I've seemed to have earned another level of my mothers respect.

Then finally the thing that has me the most stressed. The thing that has kept me up at night and edgy is whats been going on with my uncle.
My uncle has a tumor growing behind his ear, right over his limp-nodes, and we found out it's lymphoma. He's had it for months, and since he doesn't have insurance, he goes to a clinic which means it takes forever to get anything done. He had a biopsy done but when the results came back inconclusive, they decided he had to have a surgical biopsy done. 
The week after my birthday is when they scheduled his surgery, and even though I went straight from my night class to catch a 10pm train out to NJ so I could go with him to the hospital, he didn't want me there.
He made some excuses about how I needed to stay home with the dog, and when I tried to tell him the dog would be fine he got mad. So even though it broke my heart I stayed at the house because this wasn't about me and all I wanted was for him to be ok, one way or the other.
So I sat in my aunts house hurt and worried. Jumping at every phone call while wallowing in self pity, but still my mind understood why he didn't want me there. He was scared, and he didn't want anyone, let alone me, to see him like that. I understood because the same thing happened when his Mom my Grandma passed away. His way of dealing with something he's afraid of, something he can't control or runaway from is to lash out, especially at those closest to him.
I dealt with my pain for weeks, and he continued to push people away, until my Mom stepped in and had a talk with him about it.
This wasn't something to handle alone, especially not when he has so many people who love him and are there to help. Even the doctor told him not to deal with this alone. That when your dealing with something like cancer it's important to have people around you to help you, because it's so overwhelming on your own you could forget things, or even not show up for treatment.
When he saw what he was doing, things changed. Not only did he welcome Moms help he wanted me around too. And when I didn't understand why my mother told me that if he had to have anyone around he wanted me because I was one of the few people he felt safe with and could talk to.

As you can imagine, that made me cry because this man is one of the most important people in my life. When my father wasn't around he was there, taking me to class, picking me up from ballet or swimming, teaching me how to hit a ball or do a proper sleeper hold. He's the man I compare other men to. He's my Dad/older annoying brother. 
So I put away past pain, prepared for any future ugliness, and dove in.
Since then we found out about what type of lymphoma it is, and how its not curable, but because it's in its early stages and hasn't spread it can be treated. That he has to undergo radiation but not chemo and with any  luck once the cancer is treated it shouldn't make another appearance for a few years.

In a nut shell....no matter what happens, no matter how much stress I have to endure, no matter how broken, or beaten I sometimes feel, not matter how fat my ass gets, one thing I can swear...
If he or anyone else in my family needs me I'll be there, because I wouldn't have all that I have, or been able to deal with the shit the fates have put in my way without them...
I will keep fighting...for them and for me...

Always and forever...

Monday, February 27, 2012

30 and in College: Walking the Writers Gauntlet...

So College is in full swing and I am pooped to say the least...
I had my first traumatizing encounter with ignorancriticism in my English class over a piece I wrote about mothers. I based my piece on the Makepeace Thackeray quote:
"Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children."
Granted, I knew the quote because of the movie "The Crow" but it stayed with me and I felt it was a good jumping off point to describe what motherhood means to me...


Oh why did I do that!!


I know that even mentioning the word God in any public place is a dangerous thing because people don't hear past the word, but I didn't expect it to be that bad...
Instead of my classmates hearing the point of what I wrote they heard that I was saying mothers are like God, or are God, and before I knew it, every person commenting on my piece was using the word offended either because they were spiritual or because they don't believe in God. Even one person said something about that she was offended because "what about women who get raped...." which I don't even know where that came from.

Only one person got the point of my 30 min essay, and understood that what I was expressing was the sentiment of the quote. That the way a baby feels or sees their mother is similar to the way some people feel about their God, and that to be a mother is a great responsibility.
Later after the shock of that shit storm passed (took a few days) I was able to laugh at it. 

I finally had me a true writers moment. To be a writer is to express yourself, open your heart, and risk getting it trampled on for the sake of your art.


I walked the gauntlet of the writer.


But it wasn't until I had go back to that class and read another essay out loud (I was so nervous I wanted to puke) that I knew I was going to be ok. 
Ironically enough one of the topics our teacher gave us that day was terror. So I wrote about my issues with stage fright, the very thing I was coping with in that moment. 
I described terror and how it wasn't anything like fear, which it is confused with so often in our society. I told of my first experience with stage fright, describing in first person detail what I went through. But this time after I finished reading my piece to the class, I got nothing but really positive comments and high praise. They loved it, they loved how I wrote, how I made them feel what I was going through, how clear I was, and some even said I should write novels because listening to my essay made them want to hear more.
It was like I had entered an alternate universe, a Bizarro world if you will. Within a week I went from being the shit on the bottom of everyone's shoe, to a writer worthy of publishing novels.


I wont lie...I left that classroom feeling high as a kite. But as I was leaving I checked myself. 
Man can be a fickle creature. We can love something one minuet and despise it the next. Just because they liked my latest piece doesn't mean they will love my future essays. I can fall from grace just as easily as I rose.

The way I see it is at least I now know that I can survive a painful shit storm of criticism and come out the other side swinging.


I am finally walking the true path of the writer... 


(Photo by gotitlikethat97 ,  Photobucket and is directly linked)