belated thankgivings

I realized that i was supposed to be writing something I'm thankful for everyday. i haven't done that for like a week, so i'll give a few things.

I am thankful for hand sanitizer, lysol wipes, bleach, and extra trash pick up to come and get the mouse excrement laden things that Terrance and I have neglected since we moved in (just to be clear, when we left all this stuff in the garage, there was no mouse or mouse droppings).

I am thankful that Terrance comes home in 2 days.

I am thankful that my semester is almost over. I am not thankful that I have 2 huge projects standing in the way of my freedom. (we'll call that one a wash until Wednesday)

I am thankful for my wonderful parents, who have helped me out a lot throughout all of this. I like to play the role of a martyr so people will feel bad for me, but I'm really not doing this stuff alone.

I'm thankful that Panthers are on a win streak. I really do love them and feel bad that I haven't been as supportive as I should have been. In my defense, they've won 6 out their last 28 games.

It finally happened...

There was a moment on Friday night when if I had been able to come outside of my body and look at myself, sitting in a ball on my floor, surrounded by clothes and housewares and boxes and hangers, tears running down my face, sobbing so uncontrollably that I was about one sharp inhale away from passing out, I would have either slapped myself or offered to call myself a cab to take me away to a nice home for the weekend (one of those lovely ones that comes equipped with padded walls and lots of pharmaceuticals to help me get through the day).

How did I get there? Well, it turns out I don't deal with stress all that well. The running theme of this blog as of late has been my stress level, so its been building for a while. You know what else I'm not super good at dealing with? Not sleeping. Ask anyone I know. I can sleep through anything. I love to sleep. When I don't sleep, I'm not a very good person. So, you can only imagine what frame of mind I was in Friday night going off of 2.5 short hours of sleep. Thursday night I had a paper to finish. As usual, I waited until the last minute to really get into it. I was working on it all week. And by "working", I mean pulling my books out, looking over things, and really THINKING about what I was going to do. I put a lot of THOUGHT into this paper. I started writing it Wednesday night but got no where, so I had the lion's share to do Thursday (otherwise known as the night before its due). In my defense, I've had a little bit going on and other schoolwork to do, so its not really like it used to be when i had nothing else to work on and still waited until 8 hours before a paper was due to start researching it.

I finished the paper at 3am. 3:12, to be exact. Five whole hours and forty-eight whole minutes before it was due. I finally drifted off around 4-4:30am (just in time to catch the early news from the BBC, by the way. The world sucks right now, if you haven't been paying attention. But more on that later...), on the couch because there were too many clothes on my bed from going through my closet that I couldn't see anywhere to sleep on the bed. I slept from around 4ish to 6:30 when my alarm cruelly went off for me to get up and go to work. And, to paint you an accurate picture, it didn't just go off. I was justifiably a little scared that I'd sleep right on through the alarm, so I turned the volume all the way up. To around the decibel level of a jet engine, which was just a really fun way to wake up after not having been asleep long enough to complete a REM cycle.

After I peeled myself off of the ceiling, I got ready and went to work. That part's boring, so we'll skip it. There were reports sent and to do lists made and, honestly, some of the best health education since Prochaska proposed that whole stages of change thing. But I won't bore you with all that. We'll fast forward to me, taking things out of the attic, going through clothes, trying to figure out what is what and where to put it and how on earth I'm going to get everything done before our Christmas party.

And then Terrance called...

And I don't remember exactly what he said....

But I'm quite sure he'll never forget it...

Out of fear of ever repeating it again.

Whatever it was, it was something along the lines of him being tired or stressed or something he's apparently not allowed to be right now. I started to calmly explain to him that I was going through a lot and that I had so much to do and all along my voice was getting louder and my words were getting closer together and I'm pretty sure I jumped an octave at one point. By the end of my rant, I think the only ones really physically able to hear me were the dogs. And based on their faces, they didn't like it. My point was that I'm trying to finish up the semester and not fail, I'm trying to get my job done and my very big, very your-job-depends-on-it report to the state and the health department's accreditation stuff done, and I'm trying to take care of our menagerie, who have all had to go to the vet lately (which I have to miss some work for because Saturday vet appointments are reserved for people who don't wait until their dog's vaccinations lapse before thinking it might be a good idea to get them checked out. Otherwise known as losers), and I'm having to figure out when to have people come look at the house to fix it to sell, and I'm trying to find a job in Ohio, And I feel like I'm doing it all alone. And ALL he has to worry about up there is work. And I know he's working very hard. But still.

After I told him I didn't care to talk to him anymore and hoped he had a wonderful evening (that might be a very loose interpretation of what I said. I maybe might have said that I hoped he got his head out of a certain area of his anatomy. But the essence is basically the same), I crumpled into a ball on the floor and cried. Now, I'm not talking a tear or two welling up in your eye and escaping while slowly running down your cheek as you sniffle a bit and need to wipe your nose on your sleeve. I'm talking I CRIED. I'm talking a full body shaking, can't form words, eyes swelling shut, verge of hyperventilation, inconsolable event.

And, because life is super fun for me right now, after I finally caught my breath, I got up, dusted myself off, washed my face and straightened myself out, I finished going through the boxes I needed to. They weren't going to do it themselves, you know? And so, I got to sleep, on the couch again, at around 1am. And had to get up on Saturday at 7am to drop Charlie at the vet (he's a super well behaved cat so we have to drop him off so they can sedate him to do his wellness check and vaccinations. Such a cutie!). And then my dad came over and we went and picked up a couch for Terrance to use in his new apartment and cleaned out the garage and moved boxes and furniture and took trips to goodwill and habitat store. We did WORK, son.

Why is everybody working for the weekend, again?

Terrance admitted, with relatively little prodding, that I indeed have a substantial amount on my plate and apologized for having the nerve to have feelings of his own that I haven't approved yet. He actually, in all seriousness, offered to give up his promotion and his much deserved success and try to get a job at one of the stores in the Charlotte market again. He is a very sweet guy, even though he has the nerve to be human sometimes and get stressed out because he's living in a hotel 8 hours away from his family, friends and home. And he's doing it all for me and us and our future.

And he does tell me that he appreciates me... I just maybe don't always hear him. I'm too busy to hear such things, you know?

I got a full 8 hours of sleep last night, so I no longer feel like my head might snap right off of my body and roll across the room. And suddenly, it all feels slightly manageable. I just have to make lists and organize and keep my sense of humor and remember that I'm not actually alone.

I think we can handle this...:)

ramblings

i'm going to try to be a little better about blogging on the regular. i have a lot going on and i don't want to alienate my friends by bitching about it all the time, I might be taking it out on the internet tonight.

1. I miss my husband. There. I said it. I'm not an independent, don't need a man woman. I want him home. I know we'll be fine. I"m not worried. I just miss him.

2.I'd like to try and write everyday about something I'm thankful for. This will not happen, of course, but its good to have goals. I'm not very good at keeping my goals. If I was, I'd have an MD and be a size 6. But its a goal. Anyway, today I am thankful for the groomers at petsmart, who made my dogs smell good. Even better, the grooming process was a lot for them to deal with, so they're both exhausted and its funny to watch them fight sleep. God bless us, every one.

Stressed spelled backwards...

I wrote that last post as a draft and forgot to publish it. So now I'm in a blogging mood again and will just have 2 posts for the day. I am still currently stressed about the following things:

1. selling our house and not losing a ton of money. The sad thing is, for as much as I complain about this place, I honestly like it. I liked it the minute we looked at it before we bought it and I still like it now. Its home. Do I love the fact that its a shoe box with one bathroom and closets the size of coffins? No. Do I love the fact that its on a busy road that we wouldn't ever be able to take our (hypothetical) kids trick or treating on and that leads to a lot of noise? No. Do I love the fact that the kitchen makes me claustrophobic? No. Do I love the fact that this very busy street is also the home to 2 shit shops and a meth house? No. But I do love it. I had plans for this place. Additions (a master suite and a den with a kitchen and laundry expansion), yard work (level out the yard to the big tree and then put a retaining wall in with steps down to an english garden), home improvements (finish the hardwoods in all rooms and retile the kitchen and bath). This place could have been my dream home. It makes me sad to think about leaving and even sadder that this place is going to have to sell for so cheap. It's worth more than that, dammit. But, unfortunately, the market that we were told was at the bottom when we bought (I remember hearing the phrase "there's no way you won't MAKE money on that place" more than once) has hit about 14 new bottoms since then and the value of our house has fallen each time. So now, we're underwater. Deep enough to need scuba gear. Gear which we can't afford.

2. Getting a new job. This one is sort of like a double edged sword (not sure if thats the right metaphor... I think I'm looking for a damned if I do, damned if I don't type of thing. I'll explain). Never one to walk away from a pay check and health insurance, I have always maintained the position that I will not move until I have a job, with the stipulation that I will revisit my stance in 6 months because I don't think living apart for that long is good for marriages if you have the choice. Staying and moving have me stressed out. Why? I'll tell you. Lets start with a little background about local and state economies. Because of the recession and the housing bubble and all other things related to the country going to shit lately, local economies are suffering. In NC, this means that the state government (which is poor) can go to the counties (which are also poor) and take their tax revenue in order to balance the budget. It is against the law in NC for NC to not have a balanced budget. I'm not sure who would enforce this law, but apparently, its enough of a threat for the state to raid the county coffers, which brings us to the fact that Lincoln County is poor. I'm lucky I have a job this year. And I know I'm lucky because I almost lost it last year and have been told that there isn't enough money to pay me next year. I have frustrations about this that I could write 5 page blogs about and not really crack the surface of why I feel this is wrong, on many levels, but I also understand that anyone could come across this blog and they might not think what I had to say was nice, so I'll just leave it at the fact that it sucks and isn't fair. So, if I stay, I don't have a job. Now, to Ohio. The governor of Ohio is a conservative guy. He was able to balance the budget, which I give him credit for. Have you driven through Canton lately? Ohio has been hard hit by this recession. You know how he did it? He cut aid to the municipalities. Municipalities which I would like to look for a job in, but none of them are hiring because they don't have money. So, I don't have a job if I go. No jobs. No pay. No insurance. Awesome.

3. The end of the school semester. I have a lot to do. I could go over all the details, but I won't. Its just your run of the mill, end of the semester blues. Wo, wo, wo, wooooo.

4. BIG state report due. This week. Running out of time. Statistics are my friend.

So stressed spelled backwards is desserts, which is all I've been indulging in the deal with all of this stress, which brings me to #5: I'm super stressed because my pants don't fit.

I am thankful that Terrance got to come home for 4 days and spend time with me. I wish I didn't have so much school work to do while he was here.

That's all for now. Namaste.

Pity, party of one? Your table is now available

OK, so I haven't written in forever. I'm sticking with the fact that no one reads this thing to think that's OK. To be honest, I started this thing as a release for me. I know it seems silly to do that instead of, like, journal or something. But if I'm being honest with myself, I'm too much of an attention seeker to journal in a private book that no one will ever see and too unsure of myself to really promote this thing and risk people forming an opinion of me that i can't control. So here you have it. My most inner thoughts and feelings on the world wide web with no one reading them. Its exhilarating, really.

So, things are crazy right now.

Backstory: Terrance's company is expanding into the midwest. He's taking a job in Columbus, OH. I've never been to Columbus, which doesn't really bother me. I hadn't ever been to Indy before I moved there and that worked out. We've been dealing with this as an issue for a while, he turned one offer down, because the money wasn't right. THey sat him down this time and gave him everything he was asking for, so it probably wouldn't have been a good career move to turn them down.

Here's the thing, while Terrance is off living in the Holiday Inn Express Centreville, OH, I am still here. I have to figure out how to sell this house, which we've affectionately changed the name of from 'The Bungalow of Joy' to 'The Money Pit'. We currently owe $105, 435 on this palace and need to put about $10K for it to sell unless we want to sell it for $85K. Which is better? To put money into it hoping you'll get it back or just cut your losses and get the fuck out? I don't know. You see, as much as I pretend, I never really took to that whole 'being an adult' thing. I desperately want someone to come and do all of this stuff for me. There isn't a day that goes by that if you came to me at work and asked if I'd prefer to be playing in one of those ball pits at McDonalds than working that I wouldn't say yes. And I like my job. I really do, I just like being an adult less.

I also have to find a job in Ohio, which lucky for me is even more conservative than NC! Super happy I chose public health as my calling right now. I recently did a careerbuilder search for "health education" in a 50 mile radius of Columbus, OH. There were 6 whole results, 4 of which were nursing positions, 1 of which required 10 year of management experience and one which the minimum qualifications were a high school diploma or GED. This is going to be a fun job hunt.

Add the housing and job issue to the fact that I'm in the home stretch of the semester and I'm about to lose it. I want to quit it all.

Here's the thing. I SHUT DOWN when I get stressed. I don't want to deal with anything, let alone everything. If Terrance were here, I would at least feel the urge to fake it because I have to look responsible when someone is watching, but since he's not I've chosen to spend my Saturday stalking people on facebook and blogging a blog that no one reads. I also got into a lengthy staring contest with the cat, which I won because he was ready to be petted.

Honestly, I know that my life is not bad. I understand that there are people, both near and far, that have it worse than me. I could be hungry or homeless. Terrance could be in Afghanistan or Iraq instead of in boringly safe Dayton, OH. I could have Cancer. My friends could have cancer. I could have no friends. I could lose my job. Things could be worse. I know that. But I also know that I'm throwing myself the largest pity party I can right now and you know what, I'm enjoying the hell out of it, in a begrudging, complainy way.

A lady never reveals...

...her age or weight, right? I think it says a lot about society that all a "gentleman" has to do is keep his trap shut about who he's been kissing and ladies aren't allowed to reveal some pieces of key identifying information, but whatevs. I don't make the rules, I just attempt to follow them.

I've been steadily gaining weight since my fight with the parking lot. Not being able to exercise makes it hard to lose weight. You know what else makes it hard to lose weight? Eating whatever you want even though you know that you have been genetically blessed with the metabolism of a pachyderm. I weighed myself Wednesday and was horrified at the number looking back at me. I turned around to make sure there wasn't a small child standing on the scale with me. Not that there was room for a child on the scale, but still. I've always been scared to join anything because I feel like I shouldn't need it. I'm a health educator. I know what I'm doing. I actually teach people how to do this. But I've also always, for as long as I can remember, had a problem with my weight. I've never been morbidly obese, but at my lightest, I was what the kiddos call "thick" (and jiggly, for that matter). And despite what my wonderfully blind husband says, I'm not perfect and I do need to lose weight. I don't want to be a size 6. Hell, I wasn't born a size 6. But I'd be really happy if I didn't have to shop at plus sized store or if, in regular sized stores, I didn't automatically have to reach way on the back of the rack only to discover that my size, the largest offered, has been sold out. So, Wednesday, I took a long look in the mirror (I had to back up a bit to get all of me to reflect back), and decided to do something about it. I signed up for Weight Watchers online. I'm still getting used to the "points". The new program is called PointsPlus - it calculates points based on fat, carbs, protein, and fiber. Its a new thing to count - over the years I've tried low carb, low fat, low calorie, high fiber,... I'm not sure I like the fact that you have to figure our points, but it seems to be working. I have to resolve not to talk to everyone about it all the time - people are going to stop talking to me if I don't find new subject matter. My goal is to lose 30 pounds by my 30th birthday. That still won't be my dream weight, but at least is will get me close to what I weighed when I met Terrance. I know its a big goal. I know that I might not lose that. But I need a goal.

So, there I was on Wednesday, January 21, 2011. 10:27am. Age: 29. Weight: 206.5lbs.

Its out there. Public. Now I have to do something about it.

updates abound

so, i haven't written since April. Not that I think anyone read this thing, but I'm kind of stressed right now and so I thought I'd get some stuff out. Maybe it will help me get my mind on the task at hand (anyone who knows me knows that my parents should have named me The Procrastinator instead of Kelly. It would save everyone (classmates, coworkers, the power company bill collector...) a lot of time trying to figure me out. I wait until the last minute on everything. I always have and I probably always will. I'm almost 30 and it's never blown up in my face (I'm knocking on wood, don't worry). I think if it had, say, back in high school one good time, I probably wouldn't have ended up in my current position. Oh Well. I can work on changing next semester. Speaking of, let me give you the update:

1. I got into grad school! Yay! I am now a (virtual) Tarheel. UNC has an online MPH program, which given the fact that I work an hour away from the closest program was really the only way to go. Plus, UNC has a REALLY good Public Health School. I, with my mediocre grades and sub-par GRE scores never, in a million years, would have gotten into the on campus program. Since there will be no difference, on paper, between me and the smarties that go on campus (you know, when I'm seeking future employment as Kelly B Bragg, MPH, CHES, CPH (fingers crossed!)), I couldn't really pass it up when I inexplicably got an acceptance letter in the mail. I say inexplicably because I am by far the least qualified person in the program. For example, a sample of my classmates would be my group in my one of my first classes as an MPH candidate: Introduction to Public Health Practice. There are five people in my group - a woman with a Ph.D in genetics, a regulator with the FDA, a nurse in high risk obstetrics at a large hospital in Nashville, and a doctor. Thats right, I'm sharing posts and answering questions with an MD. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm the only one with true local public health experience. So far, I think I'm holding my own. I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven't even started yet - brings back memories of the Dub. :) I'm also taking intro to biostatistics. I LOATH that class and everything related to it. I am barely hanging on in there.

2. I had a pretty good summer, all things considered. In June, while on my lunch break at work, I decided to relive my glory days as star of the middle school basketball team. I went out back to shoot hoops (by myself) and fell. When I fell, I snapped the end of my fifth metatarsal off. Apparently, it's pretty common among us ballers. Anyway, I was in a boot for like 6 weeks. The weekend after I did it, a friend from Indy came down to visit. We really couldnt' do much because of the crutches, so I felt a little bad. I mean, lets be honest. Noone I know wants to spend all that money and fly in to see scenic Gastonia. I had fun, I just hope she did. It was about 4,034 degrees the entire time she was here and since I drive a manual car, I had to borrow my father's automatic 2001 Mitsubishi with 145,000 miles on it and no AC. Good times. Anyway, I did the crutches, the boot, the ugly crocs I was instructed to buy, etc. I tried to power through, but was still in a signifigant amount of pain so I went back to the doc in October and it WAS STILL BROKEN. Apparently, drinking a gallon of diet coke a day since hte age of 10 really isn't a good way to build up bone strength. Awesome. So, I'm dealing with that. You know what happens when you can't do anything but ride a bimke for exercise for 6 months? Your ass gets bigger. A lot bigger. It's been a real drain on the self esteem, but I'm hoping that the $400 orthotics that I paid for out of pocket will help me get back on the horse, er, treadmill. Any day now.

3. Terrance and I got a cat. No, we aren't cat people. He showed up in our yard, crying, and I couldn't let him die. The dogs tolerate him. His name is Charlie. I'm fairly certain he's a terrorist (not to make light of everything going on right now, but he's kind of ruining a bunch of my stuff. And I look like I try and hug a weedwacker on a daily basis).

4. I'm gearing up for another fun filled Festivus party. This will be the 3rd year Terrance and I have had a Holiday bash. I'll admit, I go a little nuts over it. I LOVE entertaining. People think I don't, because most of the time I spend the party running around making sure everything is going just right. I don't want anyone to bring anything... I just want to be the consumate hostess. I think I do OK at it. We should have about 20-25 people there this year, most of whom are return visitors, so it can't be so bad. :)

5. I went Black Friday shopping this year. I will never go again. It was too stressful for words. I saw people get punched, arrested, gun confiscated. People waited in line for 4, 5, 6 hours. And then another 2 to check out.

6. I love our little house. It does not love me back. Since we moved in 2 years ago, we have had to fix or replace the following things: refrigerator (fix - $400), septic system (fix - $600), washing machine (replace - $550). The roof now needs to be replaced as does the heating and air unit. Both of which are going to run us about $4,000-5,000. I'm tryng not to be an angry person. At least I have a house, right? A house that stays around 60 because 4 space heaters can only do so much and you can't run them all at once anyway because you short the house out. There are days that I want to send Charlie in to make the guy that sold us this place pay. And then I think about how cute it is and all the work I've done (we refinished the hardwoods in the dining room, painted a bunch, and I did tile backsplashes in the kitchen). And then I like it again. I have to admit, I like it because it's home. It will always be the first place we bought and when I'm making those big MPH, CHES, CPH bucks and Terrance is making those big history channel book tour bucks (he's in school right now as well to become a historian), we'll look back at this little place and say 'remember when' and laugh fondly as we sip wine overlooking our vineyard while we reflect on our fabulous lives... (more likely, we'll look back and say we miss paying this mortgage when we inevitably have to upgrade based on need not an increase in income... sigh...) Home, for us, is definitely wear the heart is - otherwise I'd cry. :)

OK- best to get started on the paper. Anyone taking bets on whether or not I can still successfully pull off the all nighter?