I Want to Help People

To make a long story very, very short, my sister and I went to the E.R yesterday for her nearly daily vomiting (at her doctor’s suggestion). Simply put, they didn’t get anywhere. We still have no idea why she keeps vomiting and bloating (there’s a lot of poop in her that won’t come out though she still poops some, just not enough).

But the whole 7 to 8 hour experience made me wonder why, exactly, I never thought to become a doctor/nurse/healthcare person.

I want to help people. I could see parts of my personality in the RN’s. But I couldn’t really see myself there. But sometimes, by really wanting to help someone, I can do more than I normally can. I’ll happily order food for someone who’s too anxious. But there are many, many times where I am too anxious to even leave the house. But somehow, other people’s needs are enough for me to be okay. If that makes any sense… It’s just how I am? Maybe I turn into robot-mode when I feel like someone needs me. I mean, I am good in a crisis, or at least the few situations that are as close to a crisis as I can imagine (being LOST in San Francisco but figuring out how to get to the freeway in about 15 minutes just based on guess and check).

I mean, even if I wanted to somehow become some sort of healthcare professional, I’m too lacking in my own physical health to even consider it.

But it was nice, to once again after a while, realize  how much I do want to help people. Even if all the damn people of the world make me shake my fist at times!

I know I want to help people but I just want to help them at/with something I don’t suck at or can greatly endanger them with.

So not a doctor. Obviously. It’s just frustrating because I want to help people. People who need help can bring a lot of stress. I’m not sure how much stress from others I can actually handle. I don’t want to rule full aspects of life out just because I’ve “thought away” any and all possibilities. But, like I said, I don’t exactly want to murder someone on an operating table either.

Ugh.

I want to help people. Damn it.

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Sorry for Being Dramatic

I’m constantly going to be scared of losing you again

Because I left you before I could lose you the first time

Then I did lose a part of you

And I thought that was fine

Until I thought I could have it back

Because no matter how much I don’t want to want that part of you

I’m scared I won’t stop

Because I thought I already had but I hadn’t

So now I just keep taking all of it out on you

And then I get scared of losing you all over again

But it’s even worse because it would be all of you

And it would all be because of me

Everything leads me to losing you

And all I want is whatever makes you better off

But I can’t just ask you

Cause then you’d know just how wrong everything is

And it would all be my fault again

This is what I mean every time I say

Sorry for Being Dramatic

Be Ready For Your Dream

So lately I have been going through a ton of changes and I’ve been losing sleep over the uncertainty that I have about my goals. Sure, I want to get employed and independent for once in my life but all those things are just dreams until I figure out how to get there.

Like I’ve said before, I keep trying. I’m exercising daily. I’m trying to vary the foods I eat. I’m fixing damaged friendships, I’m taking better physical care for myself. I’m slowly getting my sleep patterned back to the normal land-of-the-living hours.

But I don’t want to lose sight of my main goals. That’s the struggle as I try to fix my life before anyone realizes it was ever broken.

If you had a million dollars…

Would you be ready for your dream?

I’m Just Going to Keep Trying

I’m not sure exactly what has been messing up my thought patterns lately but it has been frustrating.

I’ve stress-cleaned so many times I’m almost out of things to clean.

I’ve hardly got any savings left to stress shop.

I’ve eaten my weight in almond ice cream.

I’ve “marathoned” two Netflix shows and I’m almost done with the second one.

I’ve made a point of stretching twice a day.

And yet I’m still forgetting the simplest things.

And I’m still sleeping in more than I intend to.

I’m just going to keep trying.

Again

At least if I do try to be unhappy I know I will be

If I actually tried to be happy.

Again.

And I couldn’t.

Again.

I don’t think I could get myself to try.

Again.

It would just be over.

And there wouldn’t be any more

“Again’s”

Ever.

Again.

Satisfaction

A few weeks back I looked up a bunch of emotions in both French and Spanish. Emotions that I was feeling at that moment. I keep feeling, in summation, INADEQUATE.

With everything. So, as I always do, I tried to  think of a way to be okay with it. So I looked up words like “dejected” and “fear” along with a few song lyrics and wrote them down. The “x’s” are ones currently on my wall.

Don't I have glorious handwriting?

Don’t I have glorious handwriting?

Each time I feel overwhelmed, I write one of the words on my dark blue wall in chalk. I just wrote “abatido” (which means dejected) a few minutes ago.

I am trying to figure things out. I’m just so thankful for the odd moments I get from time to time. Like when Jewel comes on my ipod and I hear a song I’ve never heard.

And the first few lines make me laugh at 4am.

“If you love somebody

You better let it out

Don’t hold it back

While you’re trying to figure it out”- Jewel “Satisfied

And I really think I’m starting to feel satisfied.

I’m a little lost on where to have this post go.

I don’t have a title and I don’t have a clear end in sight. The last two days have been a lot.

The last few years have been a bit too much. I’ve been finding myself thinking about what I want my life to look like in a few years.

Who do I want to be a part of my life? Am I sure I want ten cats at 28? Am I in an apartment? What city am I in?

The little things.

Right now I don’t know much about the big things. And once again, all I feel sure about are the things I don’t want. But maybe, just maybe, I have finally crossed out enough things, avoided enough life paths, that something will finally make sense.

I don’t think I hate feeling like such a mess. It feels more like me.

“having nothing to struggle
against
they have nothing to struggle
for.”
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

“it seemed to me that I had never met
another person on earth
as discouraging to my happiness
as my father.
and it appeared that I had
the same effect upon
him.”
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

I’m A 3, But Not a 1+2

So here’s a really bad math metaphor:

Everyone can look at me and see 3.

They assume my 3 comes from 1+2. Nice and simple.

But really, they just see 3.

I’m not always 3.

But when I am I am never just 1+2.

It’s always, okay I am not good at math, it’s always so much more. Lots of weird symbols nobody else understands.

It’s an awful metaphor if you suck at math like I do, but it’s just so accurate. Even in the weird abstract puff-of-air mess that I’ve tried to explain.

Oh well.

I guess some things can only be explained to those who want to understand enough to try over and over.