You know those days when you’re literally gasping for air? Today I felt like I just couldn’t catch a break, from the moment I woke up until the late evening as I was wrapping things up for bed.
The morning started with a literal “oh shit, fuck, fuck, fuck” as I had forgot it was street cleaning day at my boyfriend’s place and my car was parked on the street. After I just about shit myself and tried to throw my bra-less self together and find my keys, he told me that it wasn’t the side I was parked on this morning. THANK GOODNESS, or else I would have have had a fat ticket and a tow at the sweet hour of 8am.
This totally threw off my day, as I hurriedly put clothes on and babbled about having to go to the post office to mail a book I’d sold on Amazon that was going to the Netherlands. My boyfriend got the impression that my car-tow stress plus book mailing stress was me upset at him, and come to find out hours later, he had literally been shitting himself thinking I was mad at him because I left in such a flurry.
Nope, that wasn’t the case. I was just a basket case. I get home, only to spend an hour with Amazon customer support because the shipping the buyer paid wouldn’t cover how much international air mail is. After countless hangups and frustrated call-backs, I’m told that I need to either extort money from the buyer outside of Amazon (I shit you not, I have it in an email from this numbnut call center person), suck up the cost and ship it, or somehow convince the buyer to cancel the sale. All of these just had me like…aaand you can’t spring for an extra $10 to help a buyer whose been selling for the better part of a decade? NOPE.
Then stomach symptoms decided they needed to play a starring role in my day, so then I was wrapped up with that and worried I’d miss my doctor’s appointment.
I quickly jetted to the post office to get rid of the stupid book, no big deal…and then off to my doctor’s appointment.
I normally drive with my mom in case my symptoms render me unable to drive (which they have numerous times), but she couldn’t come with today because she came down with a case of appendicitis after all the heavy-lifting moving my sister cross-country this weekend. So, I had to drive myself with my service dog strapped in the backseat…
The next hour was spent cheek-deep in tears…and I came to realize that my symptoms are likely the cumulative effect of several traumatic incidents, coupled with heightened stress because of those events.
The stressors go a little like this:
-raped by good friend, Fall 2012
-graduated from college and planning to go to London for term abroad, Spring 2013
-best friend tried to kill me, Fall 2013
-roofied with acid and abandoned in a hotel in San Francisco, Summer 2014
-uncontrollable bleeding as a side effect from birth control meds I was on, Fall 2014
-uncontrollable diarrhea/vomitting, Spring 2015
-leave of absence from law school, Summer 2015
Wow, such a great list, right? It makes sense spelling it all out how that, plus pushing myself to double major and finish college in only three years, was really a recipe for disaster.
Now, as I sit here on the floor of my childhood bedroom, I look at all that I’ve lost-friendships, independence, confidence, good health-and I wish there had been a point where I could have just stopped and changed my direction.
I wish I could undo so much of the last four years, because as much as I try to spew “confident” this, “overcome” that, I’m just as petrified as a dinosaur fossil. I’m beyond scared that when I go for training for my law school clinic that I’ll get sick. I’m scared that I won’t be able to keep up because I’ve been gone for so long.
I’m worried about failure because this past year feels like that, more than anything. It was supposed to be a year of healing and wellness and restoring myself to a better self, but I feel like when I tackle one issue, another one is patiently waiting on the sidelines.
It didn’t help that this weekend, helping with my sister’s graduation from college, I was staunchly reminded of how little I feel in my family and why I’ve literally pushed myself beyond my limits to standout. Here she was, graduating from the one Ivy league school that was my dream school, with my grandma in tow, who couldn’t have been bothered to even sit through my two hour, local, graduation. But for my sister, she flew three thousand miles and spent six days celebrating her.
I know comparisons like this are futile, but it was kind of cathartic and made me realize why I’ve been pushing so hard. I was told by my grandma’s late husband, my grandpa, that my college education would never compare to that of my sister’s because I went to a state school and she got into an Ivy league school. That’s why I graduated early. That’s why I got two undergraduate degrees. That’s why I’m trying to finish three graduate degrees. It’s never enough and I’m at the point where I wonder if it’s really what I want, or if it’s what I think I need to do to please my family.
Who knows. Right now I just know I feel like I’m literally gasping for air now that my sister’s home and there’s even less space for me. The small area I’d carved out for myself since moving home has now been reduced back to a less than 12 x 12 room that’s penetrated by every outside noise on the street. I feel like I have no escape, and even talking to my doctor, an in-patient program to deal with my gaggle of issues and ever-growing anxieties about everything would only be fixed short-term until I moved home again.
The new house is still in its beginning stages, as we’ve only had a few meetings with the contractors to come up with preliminary drawings and measuring of the rooms. I wish there was an option to fast-forward, or at least to see how things will play out. I’m beyond frustrated at the lack of progress all-around me, and I can only feel myself getting more anxious as the days march on and everything remains as it is now.
Spoonie Adventures in Books, Beauty, & Bullshit
I'm a twenty-something year old recent law and business school grad living with a chronic health condition. Follow along on my shenanigans.