Process

Girl 2 is speech delayed. We’ll be starting speech therapy for her in the near future and work on getting her caught up.  So what does that mean exactly? 

It means...I’m processing it.  I mean...it’s not a bad thing. She’s healthy and happy and a joyful little girl. But it’s unexpected, so it still hurts a little you know? And no parent wants this, an additional difficulty. Kids are who they are and you love them fiercely regardless. But being a parent is hard and worrisome enough on it's own, so another challenge, no matter how manageable, is something to deal with.

I think deep down she’s going to be fine.  Being able to socialize safely again and being around kids her own age will probably help her development as well. Parenting is just...a loooooooong game and here’s something else to wrestle.

So. I’m processing. 

10 years later

So. In 2008, that is 10, yes, 10 years ago, I started this blog with 100 things about me. 
Some things in that 100 haven't changed. Such as: 

• My favorite color is pink.
• I talk all the time unless I am exhausted or mad as hell.
• I do whatever Jeanne tells me (PS: buy her yarn!)
• I'm allergic to cats (including that mother f*cking one)
• Text talk is one of my biggest pet peeves.

Some things are in the past and therefore cannot change. Such as: 

• My appendix ruptured and had to be removed when I was 6.
• I had my belly button pierced until I was 21 when a drunk wrestling match went horribly, horribly wrong. 

Some parts of things have changed. Like: 

• In 2008: I know so much random pop culture stuff, but not as much as my friend LB. 
• In 2018: I know practically nothing pop culture unless I heard it on NPR. LB still knows more than me though so I have her explain things. Or have my (much) younger coworkers explain things to me (occasionally I get to tell them stories of my youth).  
• In 2008: I don't judge my friends. But everyone else is fair game. 
• In 2018: I don't cast my judgement net as broadly. I realized for the most part no one really knows anyone's story. So when I do judge it's typically warranted or I'm just being a bit (or lot) of an asshole.

And some things are just not the same at all. Like: 

• My dad was alive in 2008. He was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia in 2010 and up until he passed away in 2015 it changed so much. It changed my parent/child relationship with both my parents. It lead to some serious crisis's. I found courage I didn't know I had. The fights my mom and I got into. He died right before father's day and while I was pregnant with little turkey I'll never forget being there when he died, and how it it was one of the saddest and strongest moments of my life. I miss him so much and always will. 
• But the biggest most changing thing that has happened in 10 years is that I married the love of my life in 2012 and we have two children! 
• Because when I started this blog I had just broken an engagement. It HURT for a long time. It was hard. I grieved over my could have been, I vented. I cried. I was angry. I wished a lot. I wondered. I doubted. 
• BUT! Ultimately, many, many, much more wonderful things were a result of that broken engagement. Like having an epiphany. Discovering what I truly wanted in a a husband. I celebrated things. And came up with multiple, (often time) hilarious, random lists. So the day came and went and life moved on. 
• And life got better. I met dr.soc and we clicked pretty quick. He had 19 out of  21 of my husband checklist. I was so happy engaged to him and swirling around in the bubble of tulle. Sometimes I'm a great wife and other times not so much. Our marriage isn't perfect (no one's is) and there were tough times I didn't talk about here. But our marriage is good, it's strong, our anniversaries keep coming and I know I wouldn't love him the way I do if I hadn't given back that other ring.  
• AND, dr soc and I created our own family! Which changed everything. Parenting will probably be what this blog will be about more often than not. Sometimes I'm a great mommy and have instagram to prove it. Other times I'm bad mommy and phone it in. It's all about finding the balance. But now my future think is beyond my own lifetime. I'm willing to fight for things, to voice my opinion, and try to make the world a better place now for my girls. Motherhood is hard and very challenging at times, but it's also one of the most fulfilling and wonderful things in my life.  

So. Ten years later, here I am! I hope my life is just as happy in another 10 years. Thanks for reading y'all!  

Pampers Points

On occasion my toddler will say "poop-poop" after she has done just that. (Other times she'll say it and grunt with a huge grin because it's hilarious.)
So the fist time she legit (not the bullsh*t-pun intended-version) did this, my mom-sense immediately recognized this as a sign she's could be ready to potty train. Mommy however, is not ready.  Nope.
Do I want my kid to be in diapers forever? No, of course not. Diapers are expensive and environmentally toxic and gross in general. But...I'm just not mentally there.
She's only 19 months old, still a baby. My small helpless baby is a legit toddler and she's growing into a strong, chatty opinionated little girl right on schedule. But she's still a tiny little girl - the 1st percentile. She would fall in! The stool to reach the potty and sink would probably be bigger and heavier than her. I mean... how could such a tiny little girl be ready?
At least she's not really showing any other signs. So the mom-guilt isn't flaring up at this particular moment over this. I'm sure it will soon enough over something just as developmentally important, but meh, for now I'll change my baby's diapers.      

Lady Math

So something like 200 buses applied for parking permits for the inauguration and 1200 applied for the for the women's march the day after. That's  three times as many people protesting the patriarchy.
Heh.
But where the hell were those numbers on election day?!?!

Now there's probably a pretty good chance those of us angry enough to get involved to march in DC and across the country were probably involved enough to vote. (Like me, I'm angry, I'm marching, and I sure as hell voted) why didn't those same mass numbers elect HRC?

I bet this has something to do with lady math. Maybe all the angry marching numbers were concentrated in the angry liberal small states that have small electoral college numbers. Oh, oh I know! I bet all us angry marchers are women so our lady votes only counted as 3/4!  

Lady Math sucks.

General Baby Stuff

At 37 weeks I'm at the point of no return going to the doctor every week now. And if I go into labor the doctor wont stop it. But at least we confirmed that the baby flipped! Baby's head is down and butt is up, and isn't likely to flip back. S/he is still head butting my bladder and kicking/squishing my lungs at the same time which isn't the most pleasant, but at least we don't have to schedule a c-section before Thanksgiving. Phew! (I could still end up having one if baby decides to not come out in a reasonable amount of time, but that's a possibility I can handle)

In other pregnancy/baby news.
I was rear-ended the day before Halloween and I am fine. But since I wanted to get the baby checked out too (because that's what you do when you are pregnant) I had to go to labor and delivery since the ER doesn't have the monitoring equipment for a baby in utero. I go to the proper area, get hooked up to the fetal monitor and wait. And wait. And wait some more, and then was told the midwife wanted to keep me for about 4 more hours of observation. Which, fine, I already called work and Mike was with me and I like him a whole whole lot, so we just hung out for a while. Then about a half hour of us getting sprung, the on call doctor comes in. Turns out I has having contractions (that I had no idea I was having) 5-6 minutes apart (!) when when I first arrived and I was still having them (!!) every so often, so I was going to be kept 24 hours from the accident, so overnight, for more observation. So we got a trial run of our hospital stay, which is a good thing because we learned the place is cold and made notes about what to pack in the hospital bag for when the time actually comes. And baby was perfectly fine after all that, so that's good.
Oh yeah, that aforementioned hospital bag? We've sorta got it packed... Meaning we have stuff we can pack ahead of time set to the side but it's not in an actual bag yet. Because if we're being honest, having that bag packed freaks me out a little. And by "little" I mean holy-sht-i'm-going to be-a-mommy-so-it's-not-mature to admit I want to run away screaming.

Also, I'm over my body being up for public discussion. Well, I was never "in" to that for the record. When a patron at work informs me I wasn't pregnant the last time they saw me, (pretty sure they're wrong on that one)  or someone who doesn't even know my last name goes on and on how tiny I am for so far along, it's uncomfortable. I know being told you are a small pregnant woman is supposed to be flattering, but you are still talking about my body. Mine. Not up for public discussion. (Though if the political climate keeps going the way it is as a woman I'll have no rights over it anyway.) And we can also leave my baby's parts out of that public conversation. That's no one's business either. Unless we have a girl that is. Because then she'll have no rights over her body either and we can talk all about it.

Grown Up

There are several signs that point to being a grown up. Some of the ones I have experienced are:

• I am willing to pay for convenience rather than find the cheapest option possible.
• I have nice cookware and know how to use all my kitchen appliances.  
• Guests stay in my guest room with a real bed and don't crash on the couch anymore. 
• Eleven o'clock is when I want to be home from a night out, not when I start my night out.     
• I will leave a place when it is "too loud."
• My grocery list consists of real food and is not entirely made up of cheap wine.
• I prefer to be addressed as ma'am. 
• I have no idea who is "singing" on the radio, and I'm not going to bother to find out either.
• I have my 20-something coworkers explain slag terms and current social media to me. 

But I think the biggest grown up significance of being a grown up is:
When I tell people I'm going to have a baby around Thanksgiving (yep!) the response is: Congratulations!

No Shame

In light of Robin Williams' untimely death, I'm going to "come clean" about my mental health.
I have been taking an anti-depressant for a full year now. The past 10 years I have struggled on and off with depression, and since the spring of 2013 I developed anxiety in addition to my depression.

I caught some breaks here and there in that life calmed down enough that I could breath. I've learned coping methods that weren't alcohol, berating others or thoughts of ways to harm myself. I was incredibly lucky to have support everywhere I turned. And I'm incredibly lucky that I was strong enough for at least one moment to reach out for help, and start fighting the fear, loneliness and emptiness that was my mental health. It took a combination of counseling, support, love, medication and work,  to become healthy again.

Suicide is not selfish, it is tragic.  It is not a ploy for attention, because all I wanted to do was become invisible. I was so ashamed of my mental health. My weakness. The fear my entire world would crash into oblivion and not take me with it, leaving me alone to...I don't even know. At some point, I had to be brave and change the scary landscape I lived in. There wasn't a specific catalyst, but something pushed me to do so. Because it doesn't just "get better." It takes time, and a lot of work to heal.

There will always be moments and triggers that may upset me and set me off, but I cannot control those. I can only control myself. And I will not be shamed, I will not hide from this.

Get. HELP. There is no shame.    

Happy New Year

So. My 2014 started off with a bang.
New Years Day we drove to Kentucky to visit my parents and our friends. Saturday we were headed to cinci for a college friends wedding, and Sunday we were headed back to Charlotte. But those plans were scraped because:

My dad was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia.

The day after Mike and I arrived (Thursday), when dad came home from his adult day care, he was moving incredibly slow, barely had any coordination and balance, and he was trembling all over and leaning heavily towards his right side. I hoped that it was just his blood sugar being low due to his diabetes, but the shaking and leaning had me so scared that I feared this was something far worse (a stroke). Dad has lost most of his ability to talk, so even if he did know and could describe what was wrong, he couldn't even tell us anyway. With his doctor's office closed for the evening and the doctor on call being busy when my mom called, Mike and I exchanged and look and decided we were taking him to the ER now.

With a lot of difficulty we got him in the car and with even more difficulty we got him out of it. Dad was like a rag doll at this point, so it took all 3 of us to move him from the car, and even then if it wasn't for the help of a good Samaritan, he would have collapsed on me and than both of us would have been hurt. He was checked in and taken back to an exam room pretty quickly, and then we waited. (Turns out I went to elementary school with the ER admitting tech. She couldn't remember if I was the older or younger one (older), but she did remember that one of us sucked our thumb for a really long time (that was totally my sister).) Eventually from all the tests, blood draws and other hospital stuff, the doctor diagnosed a clear case of pneumonia.

He was given antibiotics and admitted for treatment after that, but he would have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days. And you know, it never occurred to me he would be admitted. Even though pretty much anything with the exception of low blood sugar would probably require hospitalization, it didn't even cross my mind he would have to stay in the hospital for some reason. Mike said that was due to being in crisis mode, we were so focused on finding out what was wrong that we couldn't fathom anything past that point.

I could go on and give more details about the rest of our visit, but frankly I'm so tired and I'll finish up the rest of the story tomorrow. But my dad is recovering very well and he can leave the hospital tomorrow! Yes we were in crisis mode, but all things considered, it was a manageable crisis and it put mom, my sister and I on the same page of dad's care, which is something we have never had before.

So yeah, my dad certainly started 2014 with a bang.

Update 1/10/14:
Dad went home on Wednesday the 8th and he's doing very well. There really isn't much more of the story anyway. We spent the next few days rotating shifts and staying overnight with dad. We decided to not go to the wedding and missed seeing my college friends, but everyone understood and we did get a little more time to see our Lexington friends. And my mom finally, finally has started accepting help with my dad's care. So I'll reiterate that while this was a crisis and really scary, all things considered, things are going to be ok.    

Good Things

Good news!
I accepted a full time library position yesterday! Full time! With vacation and sick time! And benefits! I finally, finally have a grown up job! (I may have jumped up and down while giggling and clapped my hands like a seal after accepting, so acting like a grown up, not so much. But that doesn't make my job any less grown up, just the person who has it now. Suckers!)  

And in other good, but sad to me news, I found a new family for Bailey. Someone my sister works with is going to adopt my girl and Bailey's new family is super super excited. So even though my heart is breaking over losing her, I am happy that she'll be happy and that her new family is happy to have her. It's the best possible outcome for such a sucky (for me) situation.

So. Good things. Yeah. Good things.

Point of Clarification

Over Christmas dr soc and I were able to visit both sets of our parents, and my brother-in-law, his wife and our niece were able to make it to my in-laws the same time we were there for a visit. So some extended family were also over to visit and to meet the baby for the first time. I travel in yoga pants because they are comfortable and those are the only pants the baby has seen me in, but the last time the extended family saw me I was in a wedding gown.  When I realized this, I figured I better put on something a little less lounge around the house and a little more company's coming over.

me: Oh, people are coming over soon. I better put on some real pants.

--I change into an older (but still comfortable) pair of jeans. They just happen to have holes in both knees. I come downstairs in my new (old) pants. This was my mother-in-law's reaction upon seeing my jeans:

mil: I see you put on your nice jeans for us. 
me: Nope, I said I was going to put on real pants, not nice pants.

Pants Always Beats No Pants

I need new pants for work. I have a decent amount of dress pants, but I don't really need to go that formal for my jobs. (both of which I cannot wait to start) I have 2 pairs of khaki/twill pants that I could wear, but that's it, I have 2 pairs and I need to wear them throughout the week. I have some capris that work in the summer, but it's not summer anymore. Not to mention I'm still searching for comfortable yet professional shoes and not old lady shoes that don't pinch.

But I don't have the funds to fortify my wardrobe. And even if I did have them, trying to find pants that fit is a whole 'nother mater. Because I wear a 0-2, sometimes a 4, depending on the brand. And do you know hard that is to find that size in women's clothing? Yeah you can find them in the juniors section, but I am 30, and I am not shopping in the teenage section.

I know, the skinny girl can't find pants that fit her, boo-fcking-hoo. I'm sure there are many people who would love to be at my end of the spectrum. But all I'm saying is skinny people can have problems finding clothes that fit too.     

Email

Remember how I was a little scared of my uk email address?  I thought I was over that completely by graduating and giving uc the bird.
Yeah. I have the same anxiety for my grad school email address too.
Dammit.

It's not a crippling sense of fear and you'll find me curled up in the corner rocking myself whenever I have to check my school email.  But as someone who checks 4 different email accounts 4 times a day the point of having to remind myself to check my grad school email something into itself. And then I have to search for a little bit of courage and will myself to do so, and I can't log off soon enough.

UK was NOT uc.
UNCG is NOT uc either.

I will not be fighting tooth and nail to flounder in grad school.  I will not doubt or struggle on my career choice. And I will not fail here. 
And yet, the smallest whimper escapes me when I have to check an email account.  Dammit.

Slap on the Wrist

So because I have a specific career in mind for myself and it requires a specific post graduate degree, I'm going to graduate school. That's exciting for me.  But it means I have other things going on in my life and my availability for work changed.  Which wouldn't be a problem if i didn't have a small (and small I really mean tiny) supervisor position at my job.
I like my job, I like my coworkers, and I don't want to come across as complaining because I'm not. But I don't want to advance in the company, so I had to give up my supervisor position. And I completely understand the company's standpoint on this, because they want to promote from within, and there are people who are not me that do want to move up in the company.  And it's not like I'm giving up my job completely and while it's a small pay cut, I still have a position.
This isn't a huge reorganization or a company announcement and will barely be a blip on the radar for my coworkers, if it even blips (is that even a word?) in the first place.  But a tiny part of me kinda feels like I'm getting a slap on my wrist for pursuing something higher for myself.

Shocked

One night on our honeymoon before dinner Mike and I were at the bar pre-gaming and practicing our spanish. (not really. well, we were pre-gaming, but not so much the 'practicing' as it was butchering, but that's neither here nor there)  The bartender asked me how old I was and I had to think about it for a second before I remembered: Oh, I just turned 30.

He was shocked by my youthful face. Whereas I was shocked that I'm now at the age that I have to remember how old I am.

Sigh

Date Night as a Grown Up

Mike and I had date night and saw The Hunger Games last night.  The book is better, but the book is (almost) always better than the movie* in general.  Anyway, Mike and I got into the theater in the nick of time to find two seats together that weren't in the front rows. We settled into our seats, watched the remaining previews and got ready to enjoy the movie. 

The teenage couple next to us though, I don't think one of them had read the books. So he was asking/talking a decent amount, loud enough to be distracting. After a good 10 minutes into the movie and a few kissy noises into the movie itself, I knew I had to say something. So I leaned over, and politely asked if he could at least whisper. I'm sure he said something snarky under his breath, but to his credit, he did quiet down. Probably because I didn't ask him to stop talking, just to do so quieter.  And the kissy noises got softer too, as an added bonus.

I remember being a teenager and going to movies to make out. I remember missing about half of the movies I was with my high school boyfriend. (we completely missed the ending of The 6th Sense, and totally faked knowing what the twist at the end was when asked about it).  But also back then movie tickets were $5 a piece and you saw a movie just for the hell of it. Now, movie tickets are $10 a piece and if we go to the movie, it's because I actually want to see the movie. 

Going to a movie to actually see the movie and not to make out. Just another marker of adulthood I guess!
     
*Twilight is an example here. The movie is quite terrible, but that's because the book** is total crap.
**No, I don't care if I'm hurting stephanie meyer's feelings. She can buy as many new feelings as she need with her piles and piles of money she made off those crap books.

Lets Talk Turkey

No, really, lets talk turkey.

I'm having Thanksgiving this year.  And not just for me and Mike, I'm having thanksgiving for 9 (my parents, my uncle, Mike's parents, brother and his wife) or 10 (my sister) people total. Nine to ten people! (thank heavens our table seats 14).  I'm very excited about everyone coming in and cooking for that many people. I really am. But I'm also slightly terrified. 

I've never made a turkey before.  I've helped my mom previous thanksgivings and I've paid attention to what we were doing, but still, eep.  Those were 12 lb birds.  I was told you need 3 lbs of turkey per person, and that equals 30 lbs. Thirty!  So I did what any woman on her own having her first thanksgiving does: I begged my mom for help. (and cooking supplies. What? What else do you think we registered for?)

It sounds simple enough to roast a turkey in the oven.  Pop the turkey in the oven for some hours based on the amount of pounds, baste every now and again, let it rest a half hour before carving.  But then there are all these nuances you don't think about.  Like how big a turkey to actually get. The Joy of cooking told me 1 lb of turkey per person, my mom told me 3. Do I split the difference and say 2?  That's still a 20 lber! Do I roast breast side up or down?  Foil tent or no? Fresh or frozen turkey?  If I get a frozen turkey, I have to account for thaw time in the fridge. It will take days to thaw a 20 lb bird, and I don't have that amount of time for prime fridge space.  Do I stuff the bird with stuffing or aromatics? (stuffing). What kind of stuffing? (I'm partial to a sausage stuffing myself. Nothing says gluttony like stuffing another kind of meat into another) How about brining the bird?  When do you even do that? After it's thawed completely or during that last day of thawing? Where do you brine it? Do I even have a pot big enough to brine in the first place?

MOM!!!!!!

Big person things

Mike and I are no longer in the market for a dining room set.  Cause we kinda sorta totally bought one on Friday.  After not having much luck with finding something we didn't hate at the traditional furniture stores (and dealing w/creepy sales guys), I poked around on Ikea's website to just to see if they had anything worth looking into further. There were 2 tables that each sat 6-10 who were contenders, but I know we need to see them in person before we even consider them further. Mike actually has to see something to get a feel for its' dimensions, and ikea furniture you really need to check it out since it runs on the small side since everything there is designed to fit in a 200 square foot apartment. Since I had the day off and Mike doesn't teach on Fridays, when we were out and about I asked if he was in the mood to go to the store and look. (yep, we live within less than an hour of an ikea. That could not be dangerous to our pocketbooks at all) So we did.

Turns out, one of the tables that I liked (and the cheaper one) was just too narrow for my taste. (I can't pronounce the line name since everything is Swedish. Mike solved this problem by just making up names as we walked along, and hilarity ensued) But as we're wandering around the dining room area, we see the larger version of the cheaper table. That seats 10 -14. Fourteen. For the same price as it's smaller counterpart. The design is the color we want. It's the size we need. It extends. (if the table didn't extend it wasn't even going to be considered).  The chairs are at a reasonable price...   
We look at each other, calculating things. We don't want to buy a table just to buy a table, but...  This is the first thing we've liked. At a price we like... And we do need it for this thanksgiving...  So with a few quick calls to our parents to ask if they wouldn't mind helping us out with the table for Christmas, we decided to go with it.  We arranged to have it delivered because there's no way we were going to fit anything in the car.

So now, we have a dining room table and chairs! We have big person furniture! To go in our big person house! To have big person holiday hosing duties!  And to continue our big person trend, we both kept peeking out our front windows to see if the delivery people had arrived, like little kids.  We're grown ups!

(When we opened one of the boxes, one of the table tops* was damaged.  So once that's replaced and we have everything assembled I'll*** post pictures)
* Another caveat of ikea furniture: assemble it yourself furniture and that you can't really inspect what's in the box** you're buying.
**though, only having 1 out of 12 boxes delivered having damaged merchandise is pretty good odds.
***That's probably a lie. I never take pictures in the first place, let alone post them.

Brick wall

I expected thing to be hard with my dad.  And they are.  But you deal with it.  You adjust to a new lifestyle and you keep going.  But it is what it is.  My dad is mentally in a place that he can't take care of himself, and his reality isn't exactly the same plane as mine and the rest of us. But, oh well.  He's still my daddy, I will always love him, and I will enjoy the time I have left with him.

What I didn't expect, was the problems in dealing with my mother.  It's now been a year since the official diagnosis and she's still throwing herself a big 'ol pity party, feeling sorry for herself  that her husband isn't what he used to be. I know it's hard.  But she needs to put on her big girl pants and get over it.  Dealing with her and trying to get her to do things, I'm throwing myself against a brick wall.  But I can't let up or else my dad is the one that suffers the consequences of her (in)actions.

Yeah it's tough, my dad's disease and watching someone you love decline.  I expected that.  But I didn't expect mom to make things harder.  And that's what makes this whole situation even worse.

Grit

I don't like to talk about my dad's disease on here that much because I feel like I'm airing dirty laundry.  But that's becoming more and more difficult to do because it's woven itself into every part of our daily lives.  It's not as simple as "my dad has dementia."  It's not even mild, we're in the moderate to severe category.  It's not just adapting to a few little changes.  It's basic, everyday things we have taken for granted, have become something to monitor and/or make safe.  And not only from the big bad scary outside world, but also from himself.

I hate saying this, but it's true: it's only a matter of time before my dad has to go into a care facility. His disease will take him to a place where none of us will be able to physically and mentally take care of him.  Yes, I fought that reality at first, I'm still fighting it hoping I have years.  But no amount of pride, pleading and crying is going to change the situation. 
After pushing my mom for months, borderline almost a year, I finally figured that I was going to have to do things myself.  If we (ok, me) want a choice for his care, we (I) have to do this now so we're (I'm) not scrambling only to end up settling for some hell hole.  I'm not giving up on my dad, I'm not shirking him off to someone else.  I'm not.  I'm trying to figure out the best possible outcome for him and all of us.  But I'm in Charlotte and he's in Lexington.  So, I can't help physically right now.  My mom needs it and knows it.  But she doesn't have the grit to look for it, acknowledge that it exists, or let alone take it when offered.  So the responsibility of all this is falling to me. 

And believe me, I'm upset about that.  About everything. That my dad has this disease. That I'm the one taking care of it.  That no matter what I said or how I said it I would upset my mom.  But someone has to do it, and between me and my mom, I seem to be the only one strong enough to take action.  So with some grit and some courage, I'm taking care of things.  My mom and I reached an uneasy truce that I would figure things out and she would trust me on my choices.  Which is good, but I'm still alone on this.

It's not the most ideal situation, but what can I do about that?  I'm tired of trying to pull my mom's head out of the sand.  I'm tired of being scared for my dad.  I'm tired of feeling alone on this. I'm tired of looking for grit. And I'm sad.  So, so, so sad.

Why Yesterday Sucked

Yesterday at 12:30 I took the GRE. It didn't go well. I was going to take it back in February, but I knew I wasn't ready, so I postponed it to March.

I studied, but not as well as I should have. I made the flashcards. I knew/learned cold about 75% of the top 200 GRE words. I took the practice test. But you know what I learned the most when I was studying? That I hate to study. It's so hard for me to get in that mindset first off, and as I recite words and definitions to the dogs, I keep thinking how much I'm not getting this and I get frustrated. And then I start to feel stupid. Which then sets me down the "who am I kidding I'm not smart enough to get into grad school mindset." I didn't want to keep postponing the test, so I figured I would put on my big girl pants, take the test, get a base score and go from there. By no means did I want to do bad on the GRE, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. And then, being the spawn of asian worry (thanks mom) I psyched myself out all the way leading to test day.

I didn't feel ready, I was nervous, and I had a lot of people cheering for me. Combine that with my self fulfilling prophecy so I took my low score really hard. I actually scored right around average, which isn't bad. It's not stupid, and for goodness sake I'm trying to get into grad school and people who do that are not stupid. But to me, it's a low score, I won't get into school with it, I'm so disappointed and it hurts.

But after the test was when it got worse. I then fought traffic for an hour, my gps got me little lost and I ended up in South Carolina, I was hungry from having just taken a 3 hour test that I didn't do well on, and it was freakishly hot day so I was sweltering in my car. I'm cranky as fck, and I come home to dr soc's hopefulness and phd. And then I read the good luck message my bestest buddy sent me and I am just heartbroken. It's one thing to disappoint yourself, but now I've disappointed other people too. Meltdown number 1 ensues.

Dr soc and I took the dogs for a walk and I started to calm down a bit. And then he got the mail which is nothing out of the ordinary. But what was out of the ordinary was I received a thin letter from the place I interviewed at last week. Thin letters from job interviews are like thin letters from college's you've applied at. And even though I knew what it was before I even opened it, reading we found someone else better fit for this position was the one-two punch my day didn't need. Bring on melt down number 2.

I didn't really want that job to begin with but that doesn't make it sting any less. The timing just sucked on it. Granted, getting it the day before or today wouldn't have been any better, probably worse. But it still sucked.

Monday I'll start over. I'll keep looking for jobs, and I'll figure out when to take the GRE again. I'll study differently and get my scores up. I'll find some sort of income even if it's part time working at target. But for the moment, I'm just going to lick my wounds, wallow in self pity and cry.