Sympathetic.

One of the problems with caffeine is that my brain thinks too much. There is too much going on and I can’t slow it down long enough to make sense of the work that I am doing.

I was having a conversation with my boyfriend yesterday, and it turns out that I am not very sympathetic. Well, that is what he says. I didn’t understand that, because I felt like I was very sympathetic. I wanted to be mad and offended for him saying that, because why wouldn’t I be defensive about something I have spent my entire life doing? Just being me, with no regard to who or what I affect. I have been learning to try to think about the things I am communicating, because well – that’s part of what school is about. Communication. The art of speaking.

So my boyfriend said that I was not very sympathetic because when he tells me something, I hear it but then I start talking about something else. See, that’s not me being unsympathetic. That’s my brain working on overdrive. I have so much stuff in it, that at any given point, I am either not in the mood to talk – or I just can’t stop.

Sometimes I just don’t have the words to be able to express my sympathy, or even that I am acknowledging what I am hearing. Because I am still learning.

So I am not mad at him for saying that. I need to turn this around. I need to open that door and change the way he views me. Because if my own boyfriend thinks that I don’t show sympathy very well, then what are my future clients going to think? I can’t just open the door to my life to show them that I actually do understand what some of them are going through. I have to maintain my boundaries about who I am. The dialogue will not be about me anymore. It will be about someone else.

I need to show that I understand. That I am sympathetic. Because I actually am.

I am still learning.

 

Glad I didn’t quit.

I am sitting in class by myself. I am 40 minutes early. Because when I am early it makes me feel in control of things. I don’t know what those things are, but I feel in control of them.

The mornings I have school, I don’t press snooze on my alarm. I wake up and I get ready. I am not grumpy. I am not angry. I am not tired. 

I have found the thing that makes me feel alive. I have found that purpose has given me a new outlook and perspective on how my days time should be spent.  When I don’t have school, I consider 9:30 sleeping in. When I sleep in now, I feel like crap. I guess the truth is that I have always felt like crap when sleeping in, but I didn’t know any different. I didn’t know that my body just wanted to be normal. To live normal. To have proper sleeping habits, not ones where 12 hours sleep is what I think my body needs.

So much feels different. I am not scared of school anymore, I know that I can do this – because I am doing this. Everything is running so smooth. 

It’s been almost 48 hours since I last vaped. I guess I thought that it would only take a day for my throat to heal, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Maybe vaping isn’t the problem? I won’t know until I have been quit for awhile.

This is how not stressed I am about school I am – I quit vaping. But I still carry it around with me – just in case. The idea of leaving it at home at this point makes me panic. Not there yet.

I am also able to manage caffeine a bit better than before. Mind you, its only tea. Mostly green tea. I make one cup in the morning and bring it with me to school. I spend about 4 hours sipping on it, so I am aware of whether the caffeine is too much for me. So far everything has been fine. There has even been a few days where I have had to have half a cup more – just to keep functioning because the days are so long.

The days are so long, and everything finally feels so right. I am glad I didn’t quit.

A part of.

I am a part of the future. This really just sank in when I was sitting in one of the many areas of socializing and studying at university. On Thursdays I don’t have class until 1, but I try to be there at least a few hours earlier. The more time I spend there I find the more I feel like I am giving myself a fighting chance of learning. If I have any questions pop up, at least I am able to ask someone fot help right there and then.

It feels good to be a student. It feels good to finally be a part of the future. I am surrounded by people who are the future, all day – three times a week. These feelings are so new and fresh.

To be a part of a group of people, that I can trust blindly. They also trust me. When we have our books sprawled all over the couch, and our laptop and notes on the table in front of us – we don’t want to pack up just to use the washroom. So we ask the person beside us to please watch our stuff. They ask me the same in return. This is a good feeling. These people trust me because I have given them no reason not to.

I am a new person.  

I have also found myself finally settling in to how I learn effectively. I thought it would take months, but it only took 2 weeks. I have found a rhythm and it works for me.

I am no longer a part of the problem, I am a part of the solution.

Making it.

This growth that is happening inside of me is messy. 

I find myself sitting at the back of the classroom, of all my classes in fact. Because I wiggle too much in my seat. Because I clear my throat often. Because I am paranoid about people sitting behind me. Watching my movements. Fumbling and tumbling because I’m not exactly sure how this body works in an academic setting. In any setting. I’m often just so uncomfortable in my own body that I just don’t know where to put my hands, because I want them to protect me.

I sit at the back of the classroom because I take up alot of space. I’m not necessarily talking about desk space either.

Things are different now. Because I am revisiting all of my trauma from an outside point of view. I am exploring the issues that I will see in my future, from the other side of the room. 

So at the back of the classroom I sit, and my tears they come so silently. I hold back from involving myself in some of the conversations because how do I find the words to say that I fell through the cracks. That a social worker was never involved in my life. That all of the things that happened to me, and never happened to me are bringing me to a place where I just don’t know what I’m feeling anymore.

I need to change my story. I need to change my path. This is the hardest my life has ever been. I am no longer just walking, I’m also talking.

To have to live so clean and yet feel so dirty. The darkness of my past lives inside of me. It not longer controls me, but damn this is messy.

 I’m no longer faking it – I’m also making it.

I have a team.

The first time I cleaned up my life, was when I quit meth. I just assumed that life would treat me with the respect I deserved and suddenly all these amazing things would happen to me. I would have a career handed to me, my trauma would all go away, I would be given a beautiful home to spend the rest of my life in, and love would fall in my lap and it would stay.

None of this was true, except for the love part. But the love didn’t stay right away, the love and I went back and forth from loving each other to being apart. It was dramatic, but it was the least dramatic love I had ever experienced in my entire life. Because only one of us was fucked up, and that was me.

The second time I cleaned up my life was the last time we both had to make the decision as to whether it was worth it or not. I honestly had no idea. The first few days I spent in the hospital after my breakdown and suicidal episode, I didn’t care. About anything. I didn’t care if he stayed with me, and I didn’t want him to stay because he was afraid to break me. I was already broken. I wanted him to stay because he saw something worth staying for – in me. In us.

So he had 2 weeks to decide whether we were worth another shot. Whether I would break his heart again but not giving a fuck about anything but drugs, alcohol and partying my face off.

It’s been 882 days since my last drink and it’s about a week longer since my last drug. Everything is different this time. I didn’t quit for him. I didn’t do this for us. Because I know that it had to be for me. Everything inside of me had to know that at the end of the day I was the only one that could decide whether I was going to get better, or get worse. I made the decision. I couldn’t let anyone else, nevermind love , make the decisions about what level of abuse I would suffer at my own hand any longer.

I had to quit for myself.

And he stayed with me, and now everything is so much different. Because I understand that I am the one that needs to take care of my insides. But we are the ones that are building our future.

I decided to go back to school, because I know now that I do have a future. I decided to get my license and a car because I know that in order to have a future I need to be able to bring myself places. I decided to get a job because I know that I needed to support myself and also practice living in the real world. I decided to volunteer at different organizations because I need to give back, all those things that have been given to me freely over the years.

I decide everyday that today I am going to try. And if something inside tells me that I can’t do this, I can’t do that – I reach out. I call someone and 99% of the time – it’s my mom. Because she knows me – because she’s a part of me and she knows me better than I know myself.

I have a team of people all around me – not just cheering me on, but also helping me. And not in a way where they feel sorry for me, but in a way that they are supporting me.

I have a team, and you can too. Anyone can build their support system from the ground up. The help is there. All you need to start is to take that little spark of hope inside of you, and let it lead you.

I am not a miracle. I am the result of many steps, and many people on my side of what sometimes feels like my own little private war.

Everything is exactly as it should be.

The lady that was doing my ultrasound today, stopped suddenly and stood up. She told me to stay put and that she had to go talk to the radiologist. I was already panicking because that’s what I do, but when she said that my head started spinning.

I lay there and replayed the images flashing in my mind, of her measuring the 3 lumps that looked like peas in a pod. I shouldn’t have been looking at the screen, but I wanted to see what was inside of my breasts. I needed to know. Not like I could even understand what I was actually seeing.

I also told her about the swelling in my armpit, and as soon as she looked at it she was kind of shocked. It looked nothing like the other one – so much that she was taking images of them as well in comparison to one another. She even asked me if I lifted weights, but I don’t know if that was just get trying to lighten the mood.

So back to scanning my breast and the lumps she went. She took more images, and then she stood up and handed me a towel. Like I said, she told me to stay put while she went and talked to the radiologist. I didn’t know what that meant. Why did she need to do that? Did she see something?

On her way out the door I asked her the time.  Five minutes to three. I told her my parking was good until three, and that I had to be at work for four. She told me she would be back soon.

Maybe six minutes later, felt like a thousand years. She knocked at the door and then walked in and told me we were done. I was a bit confused. Why did she leave me covered in gel laying there with towels on me. She told me that she spoke to the radiologist and she said that whatever was there, didn’t look troublesome.

I didn’t think that would happen, not the part about nothing being there. But the part about the ultrasound technician talking to the radiologist right away and let me know not to worry. 

I went from thinking I would have a week of pointless freaking out – to being calmed down 100%.

I walked out of the hospital, nearly skipping.

I called my mom right away to tell her what had happened, because I was texting her when the lady left the room. When I arrived at my car to unlock the door, I was also happy to not have been ticketed. But instead I was met with my back driver side window being rolled all the way down. 

Because I was so rushed I forgot to close it. 

And the first thing I think about is my laptop and school work in the trunk. And as I am opening the back door with my hand through the open window, my heart is sinking.

So I pull the back seat down, and there sits all my important stuff. Just as I left it.

And my body feels not so scary now, after the radiologist said not to worry. That the lumps are not troublesome.

And my whole world feels calm now.

Communication.

I am feeling better about school now. I had a meeting with my disability advisor, a meeting with a counsellor who also is teaching me study skills, and also asked my communications class teacher for her opinion on my first assignment. All of these people want to see me succeed and they don’t think I am stupid when I can’t wrap my head around what something is asking me to do.

Also when I posted my blog entry where I was freaking out, I had lots of people respond with help and send me messages with advice. It’s pretty cool how close the help is out there if you just ask.

I was walking around the parking lot of school, bawling my eyes out talking to my mom on the phone. It seems like everytime I am about to cry – I call my mom. I need her to walk me through whatever things it is that I am experiencing. She always helps.

Even then again the next day – I wanted to quit again. I couldn’t wrap my head around the most basic class outline, and I had a number of people reach out and calm me down. Send me examples of work so I could better understand what I was expected to do. It eased my mind.

My brain is acting out. I am experiencing fight,flight or freeze and I have been stuck in frozen mode. She showed me an exercise to practice with my feet, that will slow me down. Will seperate my brain from what is happening and reset the feeling that I find taking me over.

Besides me getting in my own way, I am really enjoying classes. I love participating in classroom conversations, and am so keen to answer. It makes me feel good about myself to be able to be active in the real world. I also am starting to enjoy the material in my text books now that I have gotten past the initial introductory chapter. It feels like I’m getting more comfortable with being a student.

I just need to stay out of my own way, and continue to express and ask for help where it’s needed. That’s really hard for me at times, because I feel like I am a grownup and that I should know better. I should just know things – but often I don’t.

Also my sleep has improved so much. It only took about 3 days from the start of school to reset my sleep habits. Sleeping in to me now is about 8:00am. If I sleep past that time my body aches, I have a headache. I feel awful. I can’t believe I actually feel happy and good about waking up early in the morning.

My trip to the emergency room on Sunday also did get me an appointment faster than having to wait the 2 months. So at 2:30 this afternoon I will have my ultrasound done, and hopefully know within the week about what’s happening with my body.

It’s pretty cool what a bit of communication can do. Now I just need to find the courage to ask my classmates in each class if they would like to start a study group with me.

I still can’t believe I am in university.

Seriously.

I need help.

Week two of school. Just finished my first class of the day, and I feel paralyzed.

I feel like I want to cry, because I don’t know how to write an essay. I don’t know all the technical parts, I don’t know how to research. I don’t know how to cite. I don’t know how to fucking write!!!!!

I am spinning in circles. I just ate my lunch and I didn’t taste it, even though it was spicy. I ate and I thought about leaving university. Because at least I could say that I tried. 

I tried to change my future path, and I did my first week so effortlessly. Then the second week came and it was all too much for me. I can’t do this. I don’t feel comfortable right now at all. I do not feel confident anymore. What happened to me.

I can’t stop clearing my throat. I feel this pressure building inside of me. It wants to see me drown, it doesn’t want me to change. Something inside of me is so comfortable with the life I have been living. Paycheque to paycheque. Never quite enough to be too comfortable, but more than I have had in the past. 

I am panicking because I am afraid to write a paper. I am panicking because I am afraid to read the instructions on how to successfully write a paper. I am not afraid of writing. I am not afraid of reading.

What is happening to me?

I need help.

People can change.

Saturday evening I was on the SkyTrain with my boyfriend, heading back home from downtown Vancouver. We had just witnessed an incident between an intoxicated man and a uniformed police officer, with his dog and I think about 3 plain clothes officers. The one officer approached the man like he was just having a conversation with him as they were headed opposite ways on the stairs to the platform. Then the officer and his dog started up the stairs following the man. I didn’t think the man was even that intoxicated, it really was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Next thing I know the man in question was being swiftly put down onto the concrete platform by a man in plainclothes. 2 other plainclothes officers followed and they shouted at him what he was being arrested for.

I was standing there kind of in shock about how fast they all moved in on something that I didn’t even see a problem with. They told him that he was under arrest for assault, and mentioned something about pushing the officers hand off of him.

It’s crazy to think how many charges are laid against people, and how many times will they actually appear in court? 

I remember going to court to deal with a matter from my past, and when I went to go in I had to stop myself. I had my entire life on my back and over my shoulder. Everything that mattered to me was with me, including my meth and my pipe. 

I couldn’t go through the security at the court house because they would search my stuff and I was afraid they would take my drugs and charge me again. Also I was pretty embarrassed about my bags of things, and I didn’t want to have to be put on the spot. So I left.

Charges don’t just go away. You need to address each and every single one of them, but that’s hard when there is things happening in your life that prevent you from doing that. 

So back to being on the SkyTrain, leaving downtown Vancouver. As soon as we got on the train my boyfriend noticed a man had a fresh little cut on the top of his head. It was only visible because the top of his head was shiny, and hair free. My boyfriend mentioned it to the man, just in case he was unaware that he was bleeding from the top of his head.

He said he hit his head on the cupboard while putting away dishes. We all laughed and that opened the dialogue between them and they started chatting. I was still kind of in shock about how fast the officers acted on a situation that didn’t even look like a situation back at the station, and me and my boyfriend started talking about it. The man got involved in the conversation and then I just faded out and started thinking about random thoughts going through my head. I may or may not have continued with the conversation with them.

My boyfriend continued to talk to this man until he got off at his stop. He stood up and as he was standing he said so matter of factly, that people don’t change. 

I stopped with my random thoughts and I just looked at the man, and then at my boyfriend.

The man then said that he had never known an addict or an alcoholic who has changed. People don’t change.

My boyfriend looked at me. I looked at him. I looked at the man. I knew that my boyfriend wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s up to me to own my truth. 

The man was just between the seat and the doorway, and I said that wasn’t true. People can change. I changed. I was a meth addict for 12 years, and now I am going to university.

He looked shocked as he continued out the door. 

What I should have said to him was that he should get back on the SkyTrain and get off in New Westminster and go to the recovery day event that was happening. He would see lots more people, just like me. Changing their lives.

People can change.

Bit better.

Moments after my last post, a doctor appeared at my cubby hole doorway – in the secondary waiting area of the emergency room. She closed the curtain behind her and asked me to tell her what was going on. And so I did. 

She told me I was at that age where things were starting to change with my body and my breasts.

The last time I remember being at that age where things started happening to my body and my breasts was the last time that I remember being sober and clean. That was so long ago. That was a different lifetime ago.

So things are happening to my body, and there is no way to know yet what it is. I didn’t go to the emergency today because I wanted immediate answers. It’s because I can’t wait two months just to start the process of getting this problem looked at. I will go absolutely insane. My mind is really great at creating problems for myself. So even though there is something I can feel that is abnormal, I would somehow manage to create problems that are invisible – to go with the physical abnormality. I have too much going on in my life right now to be wasting time creating what ifs.

The doctor spent about 7 minutes with me, give or take. She told me that the booking desk for an ultrasound would reach me tomorrow and that I would get a sooner appointment. She also agreed that two months was too long to wait.

I feel like that doctor heard my anguish, through those cubby walls. She could hear my wheels turning and her timing was amazing because I had enough time to drive home, and change out of my pants with torn seams and make it to work on time.

I don’t feel so burdened anymore because I have done something towards getting answers faster. It’s out of my hands now.

I feel a bit better.