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Sinking Ship

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It’s really nothing I’m not used to.

Car is down. (Been down for months.) I should probably just junk it altogether.
I mean, if Fiona Apple can live without a car (she’s never had her license- ever) then darn it, I can too. Except she has millions of dollars.

And then Josh has to go out of town on business for a week.

Wouldn’t you know the very day he leaves town, the office here shuts down the water to fix somebody’s broken pipe? It’s 5:51 p.m. and it’s going on 40+ hours without water. I can’t flush the toilet, couldn’t brush my teeth last night- can’t wash the dishes- this seriously sucks. And I love how there’s no warning or notice beforehand. Just- POOF.

This makes focusing on my last few days of school THAT MUCH HARDER.

I walked to the store earlier and carried back 20 bottles of water; a little over 3 gallons. I was able to wash out a few things to have some breakfast. Looks like I’ll be ordering Chinese tonight- thank God they deliver. I called the home office in Pennsylvania to ask when it might be back on, seeing how it’s been more than 24 hours. The owner’s daughter sounded embarrassed and apologized repeatedly: she had no idea it was even off. Lovely.

I could really use a shower. I’m scrufftastic!

Today I’ll finish up my Intro to Social Work class, which will leave two classes remaining.
I wonder what I’m going to write about when school is out. Haa.
Surely I have other things to focus on?!

[crickets chirping]

One Down: Three to Go

 

Social Work Practice
Abnormal Psychology
Intro. to Social Work
Biology

 

TWO. MORE. DAYS.

!

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Sleep: A Thing of the Past

If ever I’ve felt like my head is on the chopping block, it’s now.

It’s 4:33 a.m. Josh is sleeping softly. The fan is gritty and loud but it’s nice and cool in my office area here (I know you’re reading this Almonds and snickering that I use the word “office”- it’s an office, dammit! One man’s corner is another man’s office…) and I’ve been contemplating my future, as always. I’ve been researching work-at-home (WAH) jobs for hours.

So now I find myself at an interesting fork in the road: probation officer vs. medical transcriptionist/transcriber: There are pros and cons to each. While the idea of working in probation, particularly in juvenile delinquency, is appealing, so is working from home. I already have a medical training background (Phi Theta Kappa/Ivy Tech) and am used to working in my pj’s already. (Which is absolutely awesome, I might add.) I spend long hours at the computer- nothing new- and am a disciplined workhorse. I could do either or.

But the thing I really need to consider most is that I’m still not 100% migraine free. When I get one of my killer migraines, it takes me down like a burning plane for 2 to 3 days. Can’t walk or move around, have to avoid bright lights and loud noises, and the accompanying nausea is the worst. Is it likely that any potential employer is going to want to give me two and three days off to recover? Each time? Like, every other month or so? I don’t get them often anymore, thanks to my proactive, homeopathic treatment, but when I do, they’re unforgivable. I’ve had a few bad ones in the past two months. This is something that I have to consider.

This makes working from home a much more practical and reasonable solution. I’ve only got a few more months to solidify my plans and I want to make sure they’re the right ones. I’m going to keep my specifics under lock and key, but I’ve already been accepted into a great college in Washington today. Spoke to an adviser, registered, sorted out the financial aid and bing-bang-botta-boom– I’m in!

My medical transcription (MT) program is an ADHI approved school. It’s not a drive-thru cheapo certificate. it’s a 43 credit hour $4,000 program that partners with Career Step, one of the best MT programs in the country. The best part is that I qualify for financial aid so the entire thing is FREE (for me). Sweetness.

I may interlude and scamper on over and pick up my MT certification (backup plan at the very least- a great sleeper “didn’t see this coming” killer stay at home career at the greatest) before jumping right in to begin working on my BA in Criminal Justice. Before I look too far down the road, I want to start with my MT certification. The worst case scenario is that I might’nt get my BA or return to school at all, but between the MT work (even part time) and doing a few school readings here and there with my children’s book, it would be enough supplemental income to be comfortable. Whichever I choose, I’ll still get the next two months off. That’s like winning the lottery to me. 🙂

There’s a chance I’ll make plans to be a plumber, skydiver, sword swallower, or BMV worker tomorrow or next week, but for today, this is what I’m going to do with my life.

Think I’ll put on a strong pot of coffee and get to work on my Biology research paper. I’ll be researching and writing about whether or not it’s ethical to give children with ADHD  mood altering and psychiatric medicine who may not understand the possible long-term repercussions. Don’t even get me started…

(Four days to go!)

 

And counting…

Truly

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Five days until school is out. Woohoo! 

I swear I’m so tired of talking about school. But, since I’m already on it, let’s update.

Still to go:

5 exams
1 videotaped diagnostic interview
1 biology Biome assignment (due today)
3 5-10 page APA research papers to write in 3 different classes
1 video presentation on Autism

Piece o’ cake. I could do that in my sleep by now. 

I’ve decided to change plans. Again.
I’ll be taking the whole summer off and taking lots (and lots) of pics. I can afford to take the summer off without working- it’s going to be pure Heaven, I tell ya. And after the year I’ve had so far? 

I got it coming to me I think. 

FIVE DAYS!

Another Sleepless Night

It’s 4:27 a.m. and I’m wide awake. There’re only three weeks left in the semester and I’m running out of time fast. I still have 4 major research papers to write (APA, of course), 30 hours of practicum/intern/volunteering at the psych ward and youth shelter, a diagnostic interview to videotape, and an oral presentation on Autism to prepare and record. (Not to mention 6 more exams.) My accumulative GPA is 3.65: not too shabby.

I tried sleeping but darn it, I have a career to plan! Besides, I have an executive decision to make: transfer immediately over to Indiana University Bloomington to begin working on my B.S. in Criminal Justice, or stick it out for the summer semester at my current university, Vincennes, and receive my 2nd degree- an A.S. in Social Work. I’m 97% finished, according to my audit, which means if I take only 3 more social work courses this summer- I’ll have my 2nd degree.

Granted, little can be done with an A.S. in Social Work (apart from residential counseling, youth director, case manager in a group home or Substance Abuse facility, etc.) but I do also have the degree in Behavioral Sciences too, along with the CPC in Substance Abuse. Technically, it’s 5 academic years combined.

My short term primary objective is to become a probation officer, and possibly, parole- ultimately. (Perhaps 3 years in probation working with juveniles, then a transition over to parole so I can take a few years experience with me.) I’m really wanting to stay in the area of juvenile work: I’d rather work with impressionable, responsive, and “workable” adolescents who haven’t already been hardened by poor choices and criminal deviance. However, my dilemma is that most probation office facilities require a bachelor’s degree. I have the equivalency, and I’m sure I could sell myself in the area if I tried, but I really think I do need the Criminal Justice training. I’m not entirely loving “Social Work”, and so I’m tempted to simply transfer over to IU Bloomington so I can begin working on my Criminal Justice degree over the summer. But that means tossing my A.S. in Social Work when I’m 97% finished!

I suppose I’ve ramble-typed enough to have worked this out: I’ll remain at Vincennes for the duration of the summer and complete my Social Work degree. In the meantime, I’ll have registered at IU Bloomington and will be ready to go this fall.

I still have my heart set on Forensic Psychology, but for now, a B.S. in Criminal Justice is what I need to focus on. I’m hoping to be able to integrate photo therapy into my work (down the road) and do more school readings with my children’s book, but I have to keep my irons in the fire down to, oh…say FIVE or so.

I’m considering taking my Abnormal Psychology chapter test on Theories, Perspectives, and Models but I s’pose that can wait until the morning. I’m so super excited these days! I’ve waited 20 long years to be able to go back to college, get a few degrees under my belt, and start my career. My kids are mostly grown (17-24), so I’m allowing myself the luxury to focus on ME now. This has all been carefully planned for a very long time and it’s exciting that I’m finally actually doing it.

Only two more years!

Along the way I’m going to join and pick up certification in IAAP (Indiana Association for Addiction Professionals ) & ICAADA (Indiana Counselors Association on Alcohol and Drug Abuse). My Substance Abuse professor suggested that I join these two organizations. I’m not necessarily going into the Substance Abuse/Intervention field, but I think more than a Criminal Justice degree is necessary if one wants to be an effective probation officer. Many juveniles will have already experienced drugs and alcohol by the time they’re 13. Juveniles that are sent to the probation department? Their experiential substance abuse percentage is closer to 100%. I want to have a few extra tools in my belt: a solid substance abuse education and credentials are essential when working with juveniles.

Juveniles + substance abuse = probation
adults + substance abuse = parole

substance abuse – college education = homelessness, jail, criminal behavior, etc.

It’s only a matter of time before a juvenile experimenting with substance abuse ends up homeless, in prison, or on parole. There’s a very strong correlation between juveniles who are on probation and substance abuse.  I want to do what I can so that he or she doesn’t end up going down that road.

And now I’m off to bed.

Oh, and just in case you’re wondering what a cell looks like during its anaphase cycle of mitosis, this is it:

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Cell during anaphase cycle of mitosis: created by Josh and me for my Biology: Life Sciences class.

Ingredients used:

Centromeres: whole black peppercorn
Spindle Fibers: uncooked pasta
Chromosomes: Ramen noodles soaked in Srirracha sauce
Microtubules: whole green tea

Grade received: A

Operation H A R D B O D Y

So early this morning, as I was serving Josh some creamy oat meal and coffee, I asked him if we could start planning our Puerto Rico vacation. I’ve calculated that it’ll cost around $1,000 each for a 5 day getaway stay in a private chalet in the El Yunque rain forest in the jungle. A round trip flight for two is only $800- insanely cheap. The chalet is $150 per night- again, insanely cheap and we’ll be 15 minutes away from a private waterfall lagoon in one direction and a white sanded beach filled with tiapas kiosks in the other. PARADISE. 

The only problem I see here is that I’m about 30 lbs. heavier than I’d like to be, so…I have to kick my sick sugar habit and start working out. I absolutely HATE to “work out”. It’s so freaking boring. The fact that I’m a former athlete and trained intensely every day (for years) helps; I’ve got some killer muscles in my legs, etc. from being a cross country runner, but I’ve been a bit of a slacker for about 25 years. 

So…

I’m going to start today. An hour per day, 5 days per week. By the time Josh and I are on our private lighthouse beach in Caja de Muertos (Dead Man’s Chest), I’m going to have a super sick body. Because I’m a former athlete, my muscles are well formed- they’ve just been asleep for awhile but it’s time to wake those suckers up!

I’m feeling pretty excited these days. Apart from a video recorded diagnostic interview and a handful of research papers (and finals, of course) I’m pretty much wrapping this semester up. I’ll be able to have a month down in May (in between semesters), so the entire month will be spent picking blanket fuzz out of my hair, eating Ben and Jerry’s rice crackers while watching the ID Channel and catching up on reading my MGM era biographies. Heaven? I think so.

I’m off for a morning photo shoot with my Super Tak (SMC Super Takumar 135/3.5) for my first spring shoot.

Life is pretty damn sweet right about now. 

And here’s why!

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😉

Bite your Tongue! (No Really, Don’t…)

 Helios 44-2 film lens + Canon Rebel XSI

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I’ve decided to write this post about a sensitive subject matter that is both confusing and often misunderstood. While I’m not a doctor, I do have my degree in Behavioral Sciences (yea! I can say that now!) as well as my bachelor’s degree in Psychology, and, I’m currently working on my Masters’s in Psychology of Addiction and Counseling and have spent a great deal of time studying OCD and other psychological and emotional disorders. I’m not merely spouting theoretical book noise, however, I’ve been an OCD sufferer from the time I was a young girl. These days, my symptoms are almost always dormant, due to aggressive home therapy (and homeopathic medicine which is somewhat controversial) but it works for me, and that’s what’s most important at the end of the day. I do what works for me.

Ten years ago, I couldn’t find any posts about tongue or cheek biting. Nor could I find any five years ago. Only recently, I’ve seen more and more posts about people who bite their tongues until they bleed, etc., most are asking questions and wonder if it’s a form of OCD or other psychological disorder. I can answer that.

Yes. It is.

When I was a young girl, maybe 7 or so, I  developed a horrific habit of chewing the flesh on the insides of my cheeks- ripping off the cheek flesh and spitting it out. It’s really quite a disgusting habit! My habit was still in its infancy, unfortunately, and gradually, I began to chew on the sides of my tongue- often not satisfied until it bled and my tongue would swell. I didn’t dare speak to a therapist about it. I knew she would think of it as a psychological disorder and the next step would be medicine from a shrink. No thanks! I don’t think the solution for every problem that manifests is pharmaceutical medicine. There must be other ways.

Taking medicine for an uncontrollable habit is merely putting a band aid on an amputated limb. It does nothing to get to the root of the problem. Oftentimes, a psychiatrist will prescribe a medicine for OCD or other tricky disorders all too quickly, without really breaking down the matter and getting to the roots of what is really going on. It should be understood that tongue-biting isn’t a “cause” but a result of a cause. It’s the effect.

I needed to get to the root of why I was ripping at my tongue, and why I was causing my own muscle to bleed. When the pain would begin to set in, I’d gently scrape my teeth over my tongue, causing a “sweet” kind of pain. It was like pain on pain, and it brought about a euphoric feeling. It was only when I began studying Substance Abuse at my university that I realized what was really going on.

Children spin around as toddlers to get dizzy. The child is literally trying to get high! It’s a human curiosity and it’s in every one of us. Do we all act upon it? No. But we all have the built-in curiosity and capability to settle that curiosity by trial and error. I experienced heightened trauma and abuse as a child. I never really made a connection between the trauma that was inflicted upon me involuntarily, and the trauma that I voluntarily inflicted upon myself thereafter.

Somehow, in my mind, I felt that I needed to punish myself. I’m not talking about consciously, but subconsciously. And also, the physical pain distracted me from the emotional pain. Again, much of this was taking place on a subconscious level, which is why I would find myself doing it over and over, absentmindedly.

Eventually, after much introspection, I came to realize that biting my tongue in such a way, put me in the same category of self-mutilators. I didn’t want to accept it for many years, but it is the exact same thing. Cutting one’s arm with a razor or cutting one’s tongue (or cheek) with the teeth is still cutting just the same.

I used to think it was self pity. And then I believed it was guilt. From there, I made connections psychologically. Over the years I’ve discovered that it’s a multi-tiered disorder. It’s not just one thing that is causing a person to self-mutilate, but a combination of physiological, socioeconomical, biochemical, psychosocial (the list goes on) factors that when combined- cause an explosive reaction that results in pain, and the desire for pain.

To better understand the depth of this disorder, one should consider what’s going on in the brain every time a biter rips off the flesh, or, a cutter cuts him or herself. Our brain releases neurotransmitters called endorphins. These are the feely-good chemicals that act as natural painkillers. They actually mimic opiates such as morphine and codeine. Stress and pain are the two most common reasons that these endorphins are released into the bloodstream. Once the endorphins are kicked out, a series of natural biological responses occur immediately following: feelings of euphoria, a regularity in appetite, enhanced immune responses, and a release of sex hormones. Who would have thought pain could do all of that?

Upon learning this, I have a new theory as to why cutters cut and biters rip off their tongue and cheek flesh: it’s not simply OCD, or self pity, or guilt (or anger, etc.), it’s much deeper than those things: It’s a drug addiction. Inflicting pain triggers the exact same endorphins that morphine, codeine, and other narcotics/opiates do! Once these chemicals learn their neural pathways repetitiously, they take on a life of their own and without the consent of the host, they begin to call the shots.

There is a difference, however in degrees of this “drug abuse”, between cutters and biters.

Cutters are ritualistic. They prepare for their cutting and even just the very thought of their utensils and other preparatory goods will trigger the release of those euphoria-inducing endorphins. The adrenaline kicks off a bit, and the sympathetic nervous system goes into fight-or-flight mode. The heart beat speeds up, breathing becomes quicker, the pupils can either dilate or shrink, depending on the level of adrenaline, the palms may get sweaty- there are very physical changes that take place in cutters. Secrecy is a large part of their preparatory ritual. Contrary to what many people think about cutters trying to “get attention”, it’s quite the opposite. It’s not a “cry for help”; they’re often very secretive about their cutting.

Biters (of the tongue and cheeks) however are not ritualistic in their behaviors. I am a biter. (I would know.) Cutters have times throughout the day and night that they prefer to cut. Sometimes, it’s because of environmental factors, such as people being home or not, etc. Usually, they’re more systematic and methodical though. Biters don’t have to “plan” for biting. If the stress level rises, the tool is right there! The teeth get to work at once, nibbling first- scoping out the territory to find a good soft, painful, “raw” area to traumatize. And so it begins. The teeth start to dance in a bit of a frenzy, darting here and there, finding more flesh to attack- taste buds are mercilessly ripped off in pieces, or in whole- and then the host realizes what’s happening and the guilt comes in. The biter stops, and swears to try and stop for good. But by now, the endorphins have already been sent out and the mission has (temporarily) been accomplished. The “drug” has been partaken and the person has gotten his or her “fix”. Literally. Just like a junkie.

And so it must be treated like a substance abuse issue also. It’s not merely a “psychological disorder”, like OCD. It’s very much a biological/physiological disorder and should be handled as such. There absolutely will be withdrawals if a person tries to stop “cold turkey”. Perhaps not seizures or other dramatic withdrawal symptoms, but changes in appetite, sleep, stress levels, hormone levels, attention and focus, irritability, and other areas will absolutely be affected.

I wouldn’t recommend prescription medication in treating this type of disorder. Why treat a “neurochemical drug disorder” with drugs? I would recommend replacing the cutting/biting activity with other activities that release the same endorphins: laughter, sex, exercise, ginseng, vanilla scented aromatics, dark chocolate, a firm massage, and music- to name a few.

What’s helped me tremendously is pausing for a moment, when I realize my thoughts are going in that direction, and cleaning out my mind- immediately- taking a few deep breaths- calming myself, and I’ll “regroup” my thought processes. Usually, the # 1 trigger of biting/cutting is stress. I can’t really speak for cutters, as I’ve never really been a “cutter”, but the cutting/biting process is the same, so I would assume that cutters are triggered by stress as well. Even if it’s not an overt and obvious stress, stress is most likely the culprit.

There’s truth in the adage “mind over matter”. I was able to give birth to four children calmly through my determination and solid mindset. I had very little pain medication (I chose to have my 3 girls “all natural” so that I could be bonded with them in the pain process) and didn’t scream at all. I controlled my mind and told myself that the pain was “nothing at all”. And, through deep meditation and control, I was able to give birth without screaming and wailing. So, I do believe the same can be achieved by simply taking a moment, pausing- and telling myself that “biting isn’t the answer”.

At that moment, I can redirect my “biting thoughts” to the source of my stress. After locating the source of my stress, I can then reroute my energy to do what I can to eliminate the stress, rather than cut my flesh with my teeth. In this way, I’m laying the axe to the root and over time and with practice, will become more successful and efficient at eliminating the biting(/cutting) altogether.

It has to be a conscious effort. And it has to be a cold, hard choice.

But these simple “mental exercises” shine the light on the problem area, allowing the person to see what is truly going on (and where), so that he or she does not continue to drone on in the same methodical disease-driven behavior, and to proactively and consciously choose a healthier path- one step at a time.

Footnote: Just as there are various degrees and types of substance abuse, there are various degrees and types of cutting/biting. One person’s combining factors may not be another’s. Each person must identify his or her own stressor/s and work to eliminate the source or sources of those stressors. If the person feels that he or she is the source of his or her own  stress, then rather than eliminate the source- try and peacefully merge to coexist harmoniously with oneself.

I hope this was of some help to some of you biters and cutters out there. Your mind is a very powerful machine. You absolutely have the goods to turn this thing around, and I wish you all the best. x

Rain

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Helios film lens 44-2/Flooded field/manual/natural lighting
Upside down reflection-taken yesterday

Call me Dr. Lindsey

Well, not quite yet, of course.

I have a long way to go. But I have it in my scope and it’s on my horizon. I don’t know how I’ve always known that one day I’ll be a doctor. When I was in Nursing (20 years ago), I was a top med. student (Phi Theta Kappa) and found out that I was really good in school. Who knew? I was an awful student in high school, elementary, and probably even kindergarten. But a destructive home life (and excessive abuse) played its heavy hand in my poor academics. I was traumatized year after year, because I had to live with the person who molested me. That wasn’t easy. Let’s just say I wasn’t given the same shot as others in life, starting out.

But perhaps this is why I’m so driven to succeed. I’m destined to be a success because I feel it. Just because I’m not who I want to be “right now” doesn’t mean that I won’t become who I know God is carving me out to be. He’s already shown me what my potential is: I just have to do the work. When the time comes- He’ll open the doors.

So I’ve decided to move in the direction of my greatest passion of all- even greater than photography and singing: criminal profiling. That’s right: I want to be the one who stalks the serial killers. This June I’ll be starting on my BA in Forensic Psychology, and then my goal is to work on my MA in Forensic Psychology and ultimately, my doctorate.

I suppose my childhood had something to do with my interest in criminology. My Dad used to read True Detective magazines- religiously. He was a single parent and was concerned about some of us kids roaming the streets. He wanted to show us what the world was really like. So, he sat my brothers and me down and shared with us the stories of many unfortunate women. The pics were in black and white and so the bloody crime scenes were particularly disturbing because the smeared blood was a hideous thick black. It altered the way I viewed things: I was 7, 8, 9 and 10.

For years we saw those photos: women who’d been mutilated, decapitated, and “posed” by their killer intentionally, to leave a message for the police. It was the killer’s calling card. Now I won’t agree with this style of parenting- it’s extreme. But I will say, it worked, because every time I thought about hitching a ride or getting in someone’s car, I saw those grizzly crime scenes: no doubt it saved my life many times.

When I was a teenager, I read every serial killer book I could get my hands on: Gacy, Bundy, The Green River Killer, Son of Sam, Richard Ramirez (the Night Stalker), TBK killer- the list is very long. For the next 20 years I studied criminology on my own, and for my own interest. I learned about luminol and other forensic applications, crime scenes, basic protocol, and various other areas of investigative work. Even now, the majority of all of the shows I watch are true crime: ID TV: Investigative Discovery.

I always knew I wanted to be a doctor, but not a medical one. And, I’ve always wanted to be a scientist, but not one who studies genes. Now I see clearly the direction I want to go in and the direction I’ve been prepping for my whole life: Forensic Psychology, also known as, criminal profiling.

The dog bite on my right ring finger recently was a blessing in disguise. Because I was unable to type for weeks, I had to hand write all of my notes out. And still I do. I have folders that are full of my note-taking and studies in my courses: it’s caused me to be able to retain almost all of my work.

I’m excited about this new direction I’m taking. it’s fairly common to fishtail around for the first few years in school and I’ve done my share of it, but I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life. This is right for me.

I’m 44 years old. My goal is to get my doctorate before I’m 50. It’s a lofty goal! But I’m dedicated.

Things are going great with Josh too. (This week.) We’ve decided to remain amicable (and VERY platonic) for the duration of the next few months. I’m so close to buying my own home! We’ve decided to have separate homes but remain in each others lives and help support each other in our scholastic endeavors. I want to be a profiler, he wants to build airplanes and fly them. I’m encouraging him to move in the direction of aerospace engineering. He’s got a brilliant mind and he’s without a doubt one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever known.

So I’m off to finish up a karyotyping/meiosis assignment in Biology. I’ve been reinstated in my Intro. to Social Work class which is good, but that means that I now have to knock out 4 months of work in only two. I’ve got this. 😉

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Resignation

“Why do you have a condom in your wallet?”

“What?”

“Why do you have a frikking condom in your wallet?  We were apart for 3 months, dude. Are you kidding me?!”

“Better to be safe than sorry. I was doing a lot of drinking…”

 

And so my day begins.
Seven years: and I’ve had eyes for nobody else. I deserve so much better than this. This winter had been near unbearable. I admit that I didn’t allow myself to think about “my man” at all, which is why I didn’t post anything about him here, because I didn’t allow myself to drown in memories of us. Too much of that can take you down like a bad ship. So I’ve been in survival mode trying to keep afloat academically, and sort out my personal life.

Most of my female friends, if not all, try to fill the emptiness and loneliness after a breakup almost immediately with another mate. They do the online dating thing and scout about for a warm body. They don’t allow themselves time to grieve or mourn and really FEEL the pain. Perhaps I’m wrong for doing so, but I embrace the pain. I welcome it. Because it tells me that what I had with my mate was real. It was valuable. It meant something. 

So I carry on during his absence- every time- alone. Not wanting him back right away, no. But still having eyes for nobody else because I feel I owe him that much. Seven years. How could I even consider thinking about finding somebody else? The idea repulses me because I gave that man every inch of my heart.

When you love somebody this hard- “out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t exist.
I carry on alone and “keep the fort”; and so I did over the long winter- feeling as if my heart had been locked away in a cryogenic chamber, unable to feel great love anymore, or great passion.
But carry on alone I certainly did.

You?
I had hoped for better. I had hoped that the love you gave would have been just as honest and faithful.  Oh this wicked game…

Out of sight, out of mind.
Condom.
In your wallet.

And so you will never have me again.
I’ll go back to my corner.
There’s no fight.
No gloves.
No blood.

I resign.

StillLovingYou

 

It’s over.

Ode to Poppies

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Helios 44-2 film lens/Canon Rebel/natural lighting

Sex and Cupcakes

 

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It actually snowed yesterday. It’s March 26! I’ve never seen winter hold on with such an intense death hold. I’ve just popped off 6 Social Work assignments. The topics were:

  • schizophrenia
  • substance abuse
  • major depressive disorder
  • antisocial personality disorder
  • bipolar disorder
  • borderline personality disorder

Normally, I don’t stay up this late mastering assignments but one of my professors (mistakenly) dropped me from my Social Work Practice course. (I have the same professor for another course this semester as well.) It was an honest mistake, I suppose, so I won’t hold it against her, but it could have been completely avoided had she read my email correctly in its entirety the first time around. Without so much as a courtesy email in my direction- she dropped me. BAM. Just like that. It was pretty much uncalled for. I pointed out that I had asked for an extension in BOTH courses that she teaches, and after going back and rereading my email, she admitted that she’d overlooked that part. So…she agreed to reinstate me and so now I’m up at 3:22 in the morning getting some work done and sending business emails to the school’s director asking if she can expedite my reinstatement (because I’ve already lost a week in the course, unnecessarily).

The severe burn to my belly from my dying cat with feline AIDS and the equally severe dog bite to my right ring finger really threw me for a loop this semester! (That sounds utterly ridiculous. I know.)

The kitchen is spotless and I figured I owed Josh a good supper and some red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.

I should write a post sometime on: How to Keep Your Man Happy 101

It would go something like this:

How to Keep your Man Happy 101

  • sex and homemade cupcakes

 

[The End]

Love is Grand and other Great Things

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Mr. Bob Hedge, himself (AKA: my son) /Helios film 44-2/natural lighting

So Josh is in the living room belting out a rock-blues ballad that he’s making up as he’s going along. Today we’re rejoicing: he just got a new job and I’m changing majors from Sociology to Criminal Justice. Hoo ha! I’m pretty excited about it. I’m thinking, I need to knock back this school thing while I’m in school-mode. A few more years! Two and a half, in fact. I’ve been told that up to 90 of my credit hours could transfer over to my BS in Criminal Justice. I’m pretty happy about that. Sociology is great and all, and I’m most passionate about that, but at the end of it all I’m going to need a jobby job, as in, actual “career”. Sociology doesn’t ensure that but Criminal Justice does. My dream job would be as a criminal psychologist or a Profiler, but that requires no less than a Master’s degree. Hmmm…we’ll see. I’ve decided to move in the direction of a probation officer for starters.

My plan is never vague or blurry when I calculate one. I gather facts, research, strategize, formulate the plan clearly, and execute it precisely. So the new plan is this (which could change at any time, mind you, but for now, it’s a done deal):

Short Term Goals

  • Transfer 30-60 Behavioral Sciences credit hours over to SNHU and apply them to new BS in Criminal Justice
  • Receive BS in Criminal Justice
  • Build up community work with PBS/Peanut Butter Soup– my children’s book- volunteer, etc. or possible school readings (This is the area that needs most attention) Ulterior motive: bulk up resume + gain experience

Long Term Goals

  • Work as probation officer/secure job for $30,000 to $35,000 annually-starting pay- minimum
    (The starting pay for most probation officer jobs is $35,000-$40,000)
  • Continue with Master’s degree in down time/online- snails’ pace, obviously (never more than two courses at any time)
    (Studying Criminal Psychology)
  • Work to pay off student loans and other debt (which is minimal)

I never envisioned moving into the direction of law enforcement (gasp!) but as a probation officer, I would need to be a licensed gun carrier, and, carry a badge. Yep. A badge. I’m halfway through the semester and am miraculously holding on to my A’s (and a B), so I’ll transition over to my new University in June to begin work on my Bachelor’s. Exciting stuff!

It’s interesting to think that the same prospect only one month ago made me want to shake, shudder, and run for the hills. That’s what utter loneliness can do for the soul! Despondency and silence eat away at the core until everything looks so grey and near impossible to achieve. I had predicted that my heart would thaw out this spring: who knew? 🙂

But love indeed has taken its toll on me and I’m helplessly goofy and happy lately. Josh makes an incredibly strong impact on me. Isn’t it funny how different people will reflect different parts of us? He reflects genuine goodness and he brings that out in me. I mentioned this to him one day and his reply was this, “I only reflect back what I see.”

[Kumbaya]

The kitchen is a wreck and I’m still in my PJ’s at 3:11 in the afternoon, but the sound of the electric guitar in the living room tells me to relax- take a break- smile, and let the dishes marinate a while longer.

Love has its ole hook in me once again.

Love is in the Air

Well life has been a crazy blur of love and laughter: the hardest winter of my life is over.  Josh has come back from Shelbyville, and from wintering with his family and Heidi is in from Portland, OR. Brianna is visiting with her boyfriend, Will, and the living room is abuzz with chatter and laughter: I’m positively ecstatic and my heart full of love again.

I’m still drowning in schoolwork- that seldom changes- and I’ll be starting my intern work at the Psych ward soon. Today I’ll be cramming 50 pages of sexual deviance into my head and testing before midnight. (Lovely.) And so I must get started.

I’m off to bake a homemade apple pie with Josh. I wanted to pop in and say that I’m still alive- not only that- but doing very well.

Life is sweet again. 🙂

Until next time!

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My son, Brian, and his little Mandy Tator Tots. Helios 44-2

Me and You

ImageCarl the kitty/Helios film

Sabbatical

Imageself portrait-natural lighting/manual-Helios 44-2 film/taken today

I don’t know how much longer I can do this school thing. Many of my friends are now applying for residencies- Bell, a brilliant writer has just applied to a writer’s residency in a remote fishing village in the Arctic Circle and another friend just got back from her residency in a remote rural area in Southern Iceland. I could probably list 50 others (no, seriously) right off the top of my head who are flying here and there and working hard on their exhibitions. They’re truly amaaaaaazing people and I’m really getting to the point to where I miss the crap out of them! It’s more than that. When you form a bond with a tight group of artists- for years- you come to know each other so well. And, you become a cycle of flowing water, each watering the other and eventually, you’re not even “you” any more but hundreds of other people- all reflecting one another.

Because of the hardships that have smacked me down over the past few months, I’ve had to put off my schoolwork until the last minute. I simply couldn’t do anything about it. Now, I’m facing 30 assignments in two combined classes and my deadline is March 7th. Am I screwed, or what?!

I have the resources to take a year off. I won’t have any extra money, but I would be able to minimally pay my bills and rent, buy food, but not much more. I’m not ready to jump into a “career”, socially speaking, not until I finish school, and so I’ve been in this tailspin for quite some time. My complaints are still the same. I want to do so many things with my art and music: I simply can’t as long as I’m in school.

And school is choking the living daylight out of me. Sure, I’m accomplishing small goals, always. But my bigger ones are drying up, such as, making a music CD, doing more school readings with my book- guh. I just don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Tonight, I’m supposed to work on my assignments, but I have to hook up with my art peeps and reconnect.

I can’t believe it’s March and there’s this much snow on the ground.
My red wine awaits. I have to take a freaking break before I blow a gasket.

I’ll be back…

…eventually.

A Very Special Thank You

Yesterday was such an awful day for me:everything was so dark. Ever the optimist, I know that these times are cyclic. They’re bound to happen and they’re inescapable but they won’t last forever. I hadn’t felt so depressed in a such long time. Since Chance (my dog) ripped my ring finger open, I’ve had to hand-write all of my notes in my classes. Today, I took 33 pages of notes (33!) on dissociative disorders, fugue, and the predispositions of unipolar and bipolar disorders for monozygotic and dizygotic twins. (33 pages!)

Last week it was 30+ pages on schizophrenia and psychotic disorders, and that’s just one class; there are three others. So, life has been a blur of mania and depression and lots of it (note-wise). It’s really no wonder that I’ve been a bit depressed, seeing how I haven’t seen the outside of my bedroom in days and I’m consuming 30+ pages of hardcore psychiatric disorders daily. The bright side is that I’m retaining 90% of what I’m studying and don’t have to look twice at my notes. Once they’re written down, the info. is locked in, pretty much. But still, yesterday was horribly black.

Until, that is, I received a knock at the door.

There was a special delivery and he brought me these!

ImageI knew immediately who they were from. My very special friend “Y”. (No, she’s not a spy, but she is fiercely private, just as I am. So respectfully, she’ll remain anonymous.)

And then my bitter scowl turned into this! (That Proactiv is good stuff, man.)

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I figure that’s the least I owe you, Y. 🙂 (And yes, those are your flowers in the background.)

Nobody’s ever sent me flowers before. (I know!) Thank you a million times over. You’ve been there for me over the years more than anybody else. You’re a GEM and I love you dearly. My icky clouds have passed over and I’m feeling right as rain again. (I had no idea I could be bought with flowers. I’m so cheap!)

Thanks again so much for showing that you care. Love you. xo

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Lately

…things have been so hard. I don’t like to complain, so I try not to, but really, when I look at the string of events I’ve experienced in just the past 6 months, it’s really quite incredible that I’ve managed to remain in college. Let’s recap:

a. The irreparable breakdown of my off again/on again relationship with my former fiance
b. The irreparable breakdown of my car
c. The great internet apocalypse (and subsequent loss of my electricity/phone/and Netflix)
d. Picking up a vile bacterial infection by “the cougher”
e. Missing my own graduation as a result of a systemic infection and U.T.I (and again, “the cougher”)
f. The death of my beloved cat, Carl
g. A severe burn to my belly
h. A bone-deep dog bite to my right ring finger
i. Unspeakable stress from tackling my 5th academic year

I’m a tough cookie, believe me. I can handle pretty much anything that is thrown my way, but sometimes, it just starts to get to you. Little by little. Drop by drop, and in the end, it’s not the catastrophic tsunami that wrecks it all, but the water drop that hangs on for a second too long.

I’m feeling severely depressed. My emotions stay on a fairly predictable plane, daily. I’m not what could be classified as “ecstatic”, but I rarely get depressed either. Tonight, I’m black. So black, I’ve contemplated quitting school, bolting my door, and retiring early. I’m supposed to do 30 hours of internship at a drug rehab/Behavioral Health facility of my choice and I don’t even have a freaking car! I really wish my former room mate (name withheld) would give me the money he owes me already. He owes me thousands of dollars and he knows how hard things have been for me. He hasn’t given me a cent- I would never do that to anybody. How could he be alright with taking advantage of somebody like that? He’s owed me a significant amount of money for almost a year now. It’s quite pathetic.

I’m tired. And tonight, I’m having a bit of a meltdown. I can’t always be the strong one. I want to have a good scream or break something but alas, that takes raw energy and I have none of that at the moment. Truly, I want to quit. I want to quit everything, but I’m not a quitter, so that’s out. I have enough alcohol here for 10 New Year’s parties but I don’t like to drink, so…that too is out. I’ve had enough psychology for the past few years to diagnose and assess 100 people, but I fall short assessing myselfI miss my daughter, and I miss my son already. 

Brian was over for the weekend with his girlfriend, Amanda. I let them take my room over when they’re here: my wide screen monitor doubles as a mini-theater, which can be swiveled around easily. They left only yesterday but already this places feels like a crypt.

I snapped a few pics of them. They’ve been together for almost a year now. They’re absolutely adorable together. :0)

Ghosties (snuggling in the snow)

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Recent Sale

Recently, I sold a print on Redbubble (a pic of my former pet: Sketch titled Black Beauty) and the mystery buyer chose to remain anonymous. If you (the buyer) happen upon my blog, thank you so much for the purchase! It really made my day. :0)

I hope you enjoy our Sketch as much as my children and I have.

Thanks again!

Black Beauty
Image50 MM 1.8 II/manual exposure/natural lighting/Canon Rebel

Hell Week (Revisited)

I can’t begin to describe the hell I’ve endured this past week. I’m sure by now my professors think I’m making up stories, but nope, this really is my life!

Before Carl (our cat who was ill with Feline AIDS) died last week, he tripped me at the stove as I was carrying a skillet full of boiling water. Rather than step on Carl, I took the hit- straight to the stomach. Image

It’s doing better now, and I explained to my professors that I have a severe burn on my belly and need a few days to get myself together. But that’s the good part!

Then my dog, Chance, bit my right ring finger when my son and his girlfriend were over (he was momentarily confused) and when I went to pick him up and move him, he snapped on my finger:

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I should have gone to the ER but I don’t like needles, so I chose to care for it at home. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that I was a top med student at one time, so I’m right up there with a home nurse. (Sort of.) I understood going in, that there are two major infections to watch out for with a cat or dog bite: staph infection and then there’s the reeeeeally bad one- Pasteurella. People have died from that crap!

I took my chances. Already, my immune system is very tough: I take probiotics daily and a vast array of herbal supplements and have for years. I know that the first 24-48 hours is the most crucial time to watch out for signs or symptoms of a systemic infection. By the second day, I was already experiencing mild delirium, nausea, tremors, chills, night sweats, and a headache. For me, the headache bothered me the most, because I have a history of migraines. If I didn’t knock that headache out fast, it could grow into a migraine. Which is exactly what happened. And then came the vomiting. I couldn’t eat or drink anything for two days.

This went on for a few more days and I finally fell into deep sleep, after my Mom brought over some Phenergan and was able to knock me out, mercifully.  I wrote my professors explaining the situation (the severe burn my cat gave me and the bite my dog gave me) and realized how ridiculous it all sounded, so I sent pics too.

Yesterday was the first day I was able to actually get out of bed; I’ve spent the past two days catching up on schoolwork- 7 assignments and a massive Abnormal Psychology exam, but, I’m caught up again. I can only type with two fingers still, but at least I’m back at work and in the land of the living!