The Aftermath

When my first IUI failed I fell apart.  I had been keeping the hope this entire time that we just needed a little nudge, that this would be our answer.  But it wasn’t.  And the disappointment from that literally broke me down.  It did not help that the fertility doctor that we were seeing was playing around with new drugs and not getting the results from those drugs that he wanted to see.  When I questioned him on it he would get defensive or cut me off or flat out not give me an answer.  During the second IUI the nurse and the doctor started to discuss the position of my uterus.  They were using terms like “Retroverted Uterus” and they needed to use the ultrasound to inject the IUI.  When I questioned them about it I received no response.

They would not keep me informed about my own body.  He would also get annoyed when I wouldn’t understand his medical jargon.  During my first visit my ovarian reserve numbers were low which no one mentioned until a few visits after my blood draw.  When I asked what that would mean for me, he just repeated the medical definition for it.  There was not one time that I left his office that I didn’t have to get on WebMD and try to find out what the heck was happening.  My distrust in my doctor was one of the reasons why I hinted in my last post that I had doubts of trying a second IUI.

The day that Aunt Flo appeared after that second IUI was a rough day.  My Grandpa had just died that morning.  I spent 4 hours at my Grandma’s, comforting her and my Dad-helping them make phone calls, etc.  I met my husband for lunch when I finally left my Grandma’s house around noon.  Before we left the restaurant I used the restroom and found out I was not pregnant…again.  The feeling I had this time though was not sadness but extreme hot anger.  I walked back to our booth-steaming.  My husband asked if I was ok.  I told him no and promptly stormed out of the restaurant.  I was so angry.  I should have been focusing on the grief I was feeling for losing a man who had been such a huge part of my life.  And it was trumped by my grief for a pregnancy that I may never have.  And it made me angry.  And I was done.  And my husband was done (probably with dealing with my hormonal self).

I called the fertility clinic that week and told them that I would not be returning.  I thought I would feel better once I did that but I didn’t.  It was a terribly hard thing to do.  It almost felt like admitting defeat.  Maybe it meant that I didn’t want this enough.  Sometimes I worry about that.  If I wanted this enough it would happen.  I wouldn’t let something small knock me down.  I would find a way to afford IVF.  I would try natural therapies.  In fact it was this thought that led me into the natural section at a local market here and buy progesterone cream and red raspberry leaf tea.  It was this thought that still had me hooked to my fertility app on my phone.

I never ended up opening the progesterone cream or the tea.  I have to command myself not to track my temperatures.  And definitely not to google or look in my big scary book about “Taking Control of my Fertility”.  This cannot be the main focus of my life.  And I really am trying to move on.  In fact when I found out last week that I was again not pregnant I did not fall apart.  I did not cry or get angry.  I just thought “well at least it was on time”.

But I am still angry and at times I feel what I guess would be-grief.  There are fleeting moments when the thought of “what if I can’t have a child” looms in the back of my head.  It sits there like a dark cloud. The sadness is so profound that I can hardly breathe.  Can someone grieve over the loss of an idea of how their life should be?  That seems to be the only way I can describe this feeling.

Somedays I’m so bitter that I can’t speak to pregnant people.  My sister who is about ready to pop will go on and on about preparing for the new baby.  She’s understandably excited and I am excited for her.  But there are days where I want to scream “I don’t want to talk about your happiness right now!”  I feel like this is probably a normal thought.  But I don’t want to turn in to the type of person that other people feel like they can’t share their happy moments with.  I just try to swallow it down.

And then there are days where I don’t think about it at all.  And those are good days.  I’m hoping with time I can feel more at peace with the whole situation.  Most of all, I don’t want to give up hope.  I want to get back to feeling optimistic about my situation.  It will get there.  Just one day at a time.

Is it Time to Call it Quits?

The last time I wrote, I was lamenting about the side effects of Clomid.  Much has happened since that post was written.  I will give you the condensed version of events that have occurred.  In early November, we met with a fertility doctor who gave us great hope that IUI (intrauterine insemination) would be our solution.  In December, we again tried Clomid and no IUI to start.  Doctor moved me to Femara due to a short luteal phase.  We did our first IUI in January to start the new year out with a bang!

Funny side story here.  For anyone who is on a similar journey to myself you know that with an IUI comes an HCG trigger shot 36 hours before the procedure.  We go in to see the doctor in January and he tells me I am right on time for ovulation.  When we saw the nurse on the way out, I still thought in my pretty little head that they would do the shot for me.  The first thing out of the nurse’s mouth is “have you ever given yourself a shot before?”.  “No…”, I answered tentatively, still not sure what she is getting at.  “Oh it’s easy, I will give you a brief tutorial”.  “Are you really sure you trust me to do that?” I demanded of her.  Listen, I know what you are thinking, but my Mom did not even trust me with sharp knives until I was 19.  I’m accident prone!  I can somehow sabotage the easiest thing.  The first time my Mom trusted me to light a match: I lit the match on fire but the head broke off and flung right into the crease of her pant leg.  See?  A walking disaster.

The nurse showed me what to do, how to get rid of the air bubble and where to insert the needle.  But that night I was still really nervous.  My Mom has diabetes and has to give herself a shot everyday, so I called her first for help.  She had plans that night.  Then I called my mother-in-law, who has MS.  She said she would come over and help.  But it turns out my father in law was always the one to give her the shot because she could never do it.  So here we all were standing in my kitchen: my husband, my mother-in-law, and father-in-law crowding all around me staring at my bare stomach and watching me with anticipation.  It was an odd first self shot experience.

Anyways, the first IUI failed.  I was a hot mess about it.  Even up to the day of the second IUI I had doubts of doing a second round.  But I went through with it.  But I was so heartbroken that this time I didn’t track my temps, take any ovulation tests, and pretty much didn’t let my husband touch me all month.  Doesn’t sound like a great set up of a second try does it?  So when I found out on Thursday that our second IUI failed my husband and I both said no more.  I feel so relieved and yet so guilt ridden.  I think I have experienced every emotion possible in the last few days.

My mind keeps going back this week to the conversation that I had with my husband in May, when this all first came to light.  What we would do, how far we would go, when we would just have to stop and walk away.  I never thought, during any point in that conversation, that we would actually reach the point of having to stop trying and pick up the pieces of our lives and move on.  And here we are, at the point where we agreed to do just that.  And I realized that I am torn.  I do want to walk away and piece my life back together.  I want to move on from this constant month to month heartbreak of numerous ultrasounds, blood draws, pumping myself full of hormones just to see a negative pregnancy test at the end. The other part of me says to not give up so easily.  But I think a break is definitely what we need at the moment.

I’m Sorry for What I Said When I Was on Clomid

Credit: http://www.someecards.com

To catch you up to speed in my last post I talked about my struggles with infertility-but I really didn’t get in to the nitty gritty details of my story.  I mentioned that my husband and I started trying to have a baby last December.  It was fun, it was stress free.  January, February, March passed.  No positive tests.  It was a little less fun, still stress free.  It doesn’t happen right away for everyone.  I went to my annual exam at the end of April.  The nurse practitioner said everything looked fine.  I quizzed her about why I only had three cycles in 2014 and why cystic acne had completely taken over my body when I quit the pill last year.  “Nothing to be worried about”, she replied.  “It takes a while for your body to adjust back from the pill”.  After a year and a half?  Hey, what do I know.

I get a call three days later from the nurse at my doctor’s office.  It’s 1 PM and she wants me to get to the closest lab to get some testing done.  “Everything closes by 4” I said to her.  She knows this, she says it’s urgent they need the blood work today.  She finds me the closest lab in the downtown area.  I’m shaking the whole way.  I don’t entirely get what’s happening but it doesn’t sound great.  Didn’t the Nurse Practioner just say three days ago that everything looked fine?  The next day, the nurse from the doctor’s office calls me again with the results.  My progesterone levels are pretty much non-existent, therefore I am not ovulating.  She told me that the doctor wanted to prescribe me a fertility drug called Clomid.  She told me to take a little time to think about it and call the office back when I was ready to move forward. So much for fun and stress free.

I still remember the conversation I had with the nurse when I called her back to tell her that we wanted to move forward.

Nurse: Great!  I will let Dr. P know to send the prescription to your local pharmacy.  You know…I used Clomid to conceive all three of my children.

Me: So it is pretty successful then?

Nurse: Typically yes.  However, I feel like I should tell you about the side effects that I got.  Have you ever heard of ovulation pains?

Me: Yeah.  But I’ve never had them.

Nurse: Same here but you may!  Oh and the hot flashes were bad.  But everyone has different experiences with it.  Just thought I should warn you.

I took my first round of Clomid on days 3-7 of my cycle.  I remember idiotically thinking “Huh maybe I won’t get any side effects”, until about Day 15 when my ovaries literally felt like they were exploding.  I also thought I was pregnant that first month because I had some pretty intense nausea.  I could hardly even look at food. On the 4th cycle my OBGYN thought it was necessary to double the dosage as a last ditch effort.  Hot flash city.  I suddenly felt terrible for ever making fun of my Mom during Menopause.  It was just hot, it was fire ants crawling up your neck hot.  I would get so hot at work that I thought I was going to be sick. My coworkers probably thought I was nuts when I would start stripping off sweat soaked layers.

The worst part was my mood.  I was so up and down and easy to anger.  One time a customer at work yelled at me and I cried in our bathroom for 15 minutes.  I had massive sobbing fests.  My husband literally thought I was possessed. When I would get angry, I would literally throw a temper tantrum.  I would scream and punch pillows like a two year old.  I felt out of control. It hurt our marriage.  I even saw a therapist a few times.  The therapist gently suggested that we stop trying altogether.  “Your marriage is suffering” she told me.  “I think it’s time you guys took a break”.

This leads me back to the title of this blog post.  I saw this on the internet during a low time after I discovered last month that I was yet again not pregnant.  Just the fact that this existed out there made me feel 100 times better knowing that what I was going through was normal.  That there are other people out there that understand.  We start another round of Clomid again next in a few weeks after a few months off from my 4 round stint.  Wish me luck that the Clomid rage doesn’t strike again and if it does please disregard the crazy lady.

Don’t worry I’ll Just Google That.

Disclaimer warning: This post has probably way more information than you wanted to know about someone.  Including talk of bodily functions and bacteria/medical jargon things.  #Sorrynotsorry?

As the last week of August comes to a close, I spend this Saturday thinking of all that has happened since the last time I posted.  Mostly good things, some very not so good things have taken place in the last few weeks.  All-in-all it’s been a busy 2 weeks or so.  

Good thing #1: The last time I posted, I had a meltdown and a revelation of “everything will be alright”.  I went into woke up and went into work on Monday with the mindset of moving on.  Then my phone rings at 10 am with a call for a job interview with Planning and Development.  My dream job.  I listen to the message and become hopeful for the future.  The phone rings again at 10:10 am with a job offer from the office I interviewed for.  I told my husband, my boss and co-workers and accepted the offer the next day.  I was finally moving on after 5 years.  

Not so good thing #1: Turning down that dream job was one of the hardest things I had to do.  But it took me 5 years to even get another job offer-and for the government I might add.  I waited hours to call back trying to justify it all in my mind.  But in the end, I didn’t want one of the two jobs to figure out I was playing the field.  Was that the right thing to do?  Should I have just gone?  I think these questions will nag me for a while.  

Good thing #2: My job actually took the news fairly decently.  They wished me the best, and told me if I absolutely hated it I could come back.  But they also decided to yank my insurance away from me two days after I resign, still have not mailed out COBRA information for me even though said insurance will be gone on Sunday, and told me 2 minutes before I left that the 11 hours of vacation time I used on my last two days would not be paid to me.  Why was I concerned about this?  Will we get to that later on.

Not so good thing #2:  So this one actually started as a good thing.  My office had an event with my soon to be new office last week.  A meet-and-greet for our town hearing process.  My new boss was there, I have met him before but it had been awhile.  So I took it upon myself to go and re-introduce myself to him.  He was excited to meet me and offered to take me upstairs and introduce me to the team.  It was a great time to do so.  I told my boss I would be back shortly and went upstairs.  I met the office-everyone seemed nice, if not a little socially awkward (I would fit RIGHT in).  It was about 15 minutes of chit-chat and I decided to make my way back downstairs.  This was until I was called back into my new boss’s office.  I was not expecting to be grilled about my loyalty, my attendance, and my habits of office gossip for the next 30 minutes.  I won’t go into detail about it.  All I can say is WOW.  I felt deflated when I left the building.  I could barely even muster a goodbye.  I turned a dream job interview down for this???  I realized that going from a job where I have little management looking over my shoulder that I was entering micromanagement world.  It will be an adjustment.  Can you tell I’ve been giving myself pep talks?  Stay tuned next week after my first day of work.

Good thing #3: The husband and I took a day trip to Cincinnati last weekend.  We visited the zoo, had some drinks, ate a great dinner, almost got mugged in a parking lot, and saw the Reds vs. Braves play.  Of course there was also lots of rain, so we only got to see 5 innings of the game, but it was still a nice getaway.  

Enjoy this lovely photo of a Giraffe

Over The Rhine-near the scene where we almost got mugged

Not so good thing #3: My vacation high from Sunday abruptly ended with the arrival of a red light camera traffic ticket.  On a rolling right turn.  Enough said.

Good thing #4: My last week of work was this past week.  It was a bittersweet time.  I thought I would be more excited to leave but after you spend 5 years of your life with the same people it is hard not to become attached.  Even if it did take them 3 years to learn my name.  It was also the first week of our town hall style hearings which didn’t start until 10.  So I got to enjoy a week without an alarm clock waking me up.  And two longer mornings with my husband.  Tuesday morning we both woke up and I insisted that he make me my favorite breakfast.  My husband is an excellent breakfast chef.  He makes this great meal of eggs, bacon, sautéed onions and peppers, salsa and cheese all wrapped up in a warmed tortilla.  It’s amazing.  I went to work that day feeling over stuffed and felt a deep pain in my stomach with what I thought was indigestion for the rest of the work day.  Every time I moved it was there.  But I did eat my weight in breakfast that morning so that all seemed to make sense at the time.  Which moves into not so good thing #4.

Not so good thing #4: The pain in my stomach continued into Wednesday evening.  I called both my Mom and my sister to ask how to get rid of a stomach ache.  I ate some soup, I went to bed early.  I was coming down with a cold.  I woke up at 4 am on Thursday, aching all over.  My stomach, my head, oh my.  I tried to get comfortable in bed but the pain in my stomach could not eased and I was starting to get nauseous from the flipping and flopping.  I snuck downstairs (something I never do, I love my bed), I turned on the AC unit, I tried to fall back asleep on the couch.  Around 5 on my second trip to the bathroom because I was so nauseous I took my temperature, 101.3.  “Hmm”, I thought to myself.  Seems odd for a cold which seems to be all in my nose.   I immediately called my doctors office which I knew had an doctor on call for emergency like questions.  To my amazement, someone answered.  I described my symptoms.  I once again got a “hmm” on the other end of the line.  My thoughts exactly.  He told me to meet me in the office in 20 minutes and he would exam me.  At 6 am?  What service.

I spend the next 15 minutes getting my husband out of bed.  We take a barf bag.  We make it out to the doctor by 6:40.  He exams me and gives me a way too long answer for the early hour and the fact that everything hurts.  Short answer was: Yes go to the hospital.  I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with you.  Could be appendicitis or a cyst that has burst was his best guess.  I’m still extremely grateful for someone who took the time 2-3 hours before an office even opens to exam a patient.  I should send him a thank you card.  We drive over to the hospital closest to our house.  I’m hopeful when I walk in.  There are only 2 other people in the waiting room.  We check in, I see a nurse fairly soon.  We get sent back out to the lobby, where I curl up on Seth and groan in pain.  30 minutes later we get called back again.  SUCCESS.  I get blood drawn and they leave the needle in my arm; we get send back out to the waiting room.  2 hours later, when I start to cry from the pain we are still in the waiting room.  Everyone before and after us have gone into rooms.  My husband starts getting angry.  Another hour later and we are finally in a room. 

A P.A. comes in and tells me I have UTI.  I look questioningly at her.  She says we probably don’t even need to take a CT scan.  That’s probably what it is.  You really don’t look like you’re in that much discomfort she says.  Mentally I am punching her in the face, puking on her shoes.  In reality, all I can mutter is an “ok”.  A nurse comes back about 10 minutes later and wheels me to get a CT scan to check for kidney stones.  All I say again is “ok”.  When we get back, I fall into a feverish sleep.  I am awakened by a doctor.  He says that there are no kidney stones.  His diagnosis is a UTI.  I hold up my hand “where is the pain coming from then?”.  He responds that the infection is moving up into my kidneys.  “ok” is all I can muster again.  The final diagnosis they gave almost 6 hours after first arriving was that I have a kidney infection.  But they also mentioned they found enlarged lymph nodes in my intestinal tract on the CT scan.  “But”, they continued, “we aren’t worried about that today.  Talk to your family doctor about that”.  Thanks for a wasted, very expensive trip ER.  I fall into a feverish sleep for basically the rest of the day.  I missed 8 hours of work that I won’t be paid for.  I was forced to go in, despite my husband’s pleas, the next day for a half a day.  Another 3 hours that I won’t be paid for.  That was why I got my panties in a twist when they decided to tell me that before I left on the last day.  

After I left work, I went back to my regular doctor’s office to see what someone there had to say about the diagnosis.  I can never actually get in to see my regular family doctor.  Dr. B, as we will call him, always seems unreachable.  I was able to see him in February for a brief consultation about my migraines but before that it had been 4 years.  So in lieu of seeing Dr. B, I am placed with one of the rotation of doctors in the practice.  All of the doctors there are nice, it is just sort of aggravating that you can’t just have one regular doctor.  I asked once if I could switch about 5 years ago when I was seeing a woman doctor regularly for a particular ailment.  The office told me I could not.  It all seems ridiculous to me.  ANYWAYS, back to the story. 

 I once again was unable to obtain an appointment on Friday with Dr. B to discuss my situation.  But the office placed me with another doctor who I have seen over the past few years.  After reading the paperwork from the hospital and listening intently to my symptoms, he starts by saying “Well this is an interesting case, which is fun for me but you really don’t want to be interesting in the medical world”.  Great.  He went on to say that he disagreed with the kidney infection/UTI diagnosis from the hospital.  He said he did find in the urine culture evidence of staph bacteria growing, which is why the hospital staff decided to pinpoint my symptoms to what they did.  He said the more concerning thing was the enlarged lymph nodes in my intestines.  The third and final diagnosis of the week was that I have a bacterial virus in my GI tract.  The cause of the pain in my stomach was the enlarged lymph node pressing against other organs, etc.  I had to keep taking the antibiotics that the hospital prescribed to treat the staph.  The bacterial virus happening would take time to heal.  More testing may be necessary but we would deal with that when/if the time comes.  For someone losing their insurance tomorrow-this isn’t the best news.  

Good news #5: I am on the mend it seems.  I just ate a grilled cheese for dinner-the most ambitious I have been since Wednesday afternoon.  I’m still not able to really walk around much so I’ve been watching a lot of Sex and the City on HBO.  And I actually felt better enough today to write so there is that.  My husband also let me nerd out today and buy office stuff for Tuesday.  I bought a nice stapler and a ninja man post it dispenser.  Yes, this week it is the little things that are keeping me going. 

It’s My Party and I’ll Ugly Cry if I Want To

It is Sunday once again. Why is it when we get older that the days/weeks/months go by faster and faster. I feel like I blink and a month has passed. It astounds me every week when I look around my house what havoc two humans and a dog could wreck in such a short amount of time. I spend hours cleaning our house, trying to rid it of dog hair, dust, and grime. Only to find that in a week span it has accumulated yet again-not only that but it looks like no one has cleaned in months. It seems like a tedious never ending process. No one is going to look back on their life and say; “Gee…I’m sure glad I spent all those hours chasing my family around with a Swiffer dry cloth”.

This was one of those rollercoaster weeks. In my last post I had just walked away from a second interview with the government office my contract company is employed by. When I walked out of that interview I thought it had gone great (other than my hiccup with the “what is your ultimate career goal” question). They told me before I left that they would be contacting me by the end of the week with their decision. Friday rolled around and still no word from their office. Last year, I interviewed with this same office for two different positions. I had also thought the meeting had gone very well. I knew the two ladies I interviewed with. I had great responses; they seemed to be confident in my skills. Then, it fizzled out. I still don’t know what happened. They mailed me a letter to tell me I hadn’t been selected, which I think is a rude let down. If someone takes the time off of work to come and be grilled by a panel interview then I feel like that person deserves a phone call to let them know that they weren’t selected.

Anyways, when they didn’t call me on Friday I felt like I knew that a similar letter was coming. I had a very strange reaction to this. I don’t know for sure I wasn’t selected but I still felt devastated. I called my Mom to talk things over. But my mother has a habit of butting in when she’s not wanted, and backing off when she is needed. When I called her up she was waiting on my Aunt to arrive from North Carolina; so to her benefit she was busy. I told her the situation and asked her opinion. “Do you think I didn’t get it?”, I asked with a huge lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I could’ve done differently…this is the exact same job I already do AND they all know me down there” I told her, trying to rationalize everything. She started to respond with an “I don’t know” but then I heard my Aunt come in the door. She still kept me on the phone for about 3 more minutes while talking to my Aunt until eventually I hung up the phone. Then I broke down into tears for literally 2 hours straight. Why you may ask? I have no idea. It wasn’t just a little cry either-it was a full on ugly, wail of a cry. And apparently I couldn’t stop. I cried when I picked up the dog at the dog daycare (don’t judge me), I cried under the covers until my husband got home, I cried even harder when he walked in the door. It was a full on pity party.

Eventually though I finally got out of bed and decided to join my husband for dinner with my in-laws. I didn’t want to go. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to even stop crying in front of his family. I was emotionally unstable that day. But I got out of that bed, fixed my hair, pulled my big girl pants on and tried to move on with my day. And I’m glad I did. Once again I was letting my career, or failure of one to define who I was. It had so consumed me that day that I couldn’t appreciate what I already have. So I had to say the mantra of all the things that I had over again. I have a wonderful husband who holds my hand while I sob and brings me water to make me feel better. I have a loving and supportive family (as flawed as they are) to cheer me up. I have a job that pays the bills for now, which is more than what some people have. I have a house, a dog, too much food to eat and clean water. I have so much to be thankful for and this is what I need to remember the next time I host a pity party for 1.

Once I got over this hump, the weekend was actually a great time. I spent a good amount of time with both of my nieces. I colored with chalk, had a conversation with my niece about the importance of sharing, and convinced my Dad to take a selfie. I ate a BBQ pulled pork sandwich the size of my face at a Food Truck Festival. I lost 14 dollars out of my pocket at this same festival but Karma won over when a very nice parking attendant let us out of the garage for free. I went on a few long walks and read most of a book today. I have to say that the good of this weekend outweighed the bad and reminded me of the things I should be focusing on. Now I can confidently say that even if I do receive that letter in the mail tomorrow I know that something else will come along I just need to keep trying.

What Do a Doctor, a Genie, a cross dressing Nanny, and Peter Pan all have in common?

Tonight around 6:30 pm I logged onto Facebook to do some stalking and discovered the tragic news. Robin Williams has passed. The first post I came to read “So sad. Robin Williams was one of the greats”. My eyes got big and a silent “NOoooooo”, escaped from my mouth. Also just now when I was locating the first post I came to so I could quote it, I hit the like button on someone’s status that I haven’t talked to since high school. Another silent “NOooooo”, escaped again. Anyways, I could hardly believe the news. This man was a 90’s icon and brought me so many laughs. From Aladdin, to Bicentennial Man, Mrs. Doubtfire, and of course Jumanji and The Birdcage-there are so many beloved films that I hold dear to my heart. I started texting people immediately to break the tragic news. I texted my husband, my long-time friend who shares my love for the movie Hook, and of course my sister. I always think of my sister when I think of Robin Williams.

*I did write this post yesterday-it did not take me 24 hours to learn of Robin Williams death.  Due to circumstances out of my control (coughtimewarnersuckscough) our internet has been down since Saturday.  Pardon the interruption, continue on with the story*

The summer of my 6th grade year and the summer before her 9th grade year my family had a trip planned to visit my aunt in North Carolina. My aunt had a very interesting job-she up until recently sewed costumes/made alterations for movies and T.V. shows. She would always impress us with her newest stories about who she had met and what movie set she was currently working on. One Christmas my sister received a signed autograph from Leonardo DiCaprio when she worked on the little film he was in called, Titanic. My favorite thing that she worked on was Super Shredder’s cape in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2: Secret of the Ooze. She sent us a great photo of my Grandpa in the full costume (he even got to wear the helmet). This particular summer though she happened to be working on a new Robin Williams movie, Patch Adams. She called my sister that spring and told her they needed extras for the graduation scene and asked her to be in it. My invite was nowhere to be found. Not that I’m harboring any bitterness or anything from this story.

My sister bragged to me all spring and summer about going to work on a movie. Who could blame her? I tried to act like it wasn’t that cool-but it was awesome. When she got back from her big debut she had lots of great things to say about Robin Williams. She of course had gotten to meet him and she added another autograph to her collection of cool things. She also reported to us how tedious being an extra was. Apparently they shot the same scene over and over again for a whole day. If any of you have seen the graduation scene in Patch Adams, you know that he moons the crowd. So she saw a bare butt over and over again all day and had to fake laugh over and over again. This is the story I thought of when I heard he was no longer with us. RIP Patch.

Other than that sad story-life has been hectic. I had a second interview for the two county jobs that I interviewed for last week. I think it went pretty well. I was not sure what to expect going in. I had never been on a second interview. But the questions were straight forward and simple. The Chief of Staff did ask the “what are your ultimate career goals” question though. After which I froze, muttered, rambled a response. In short I responded “I don’t know”. It was my one trip up of the day. I really need to practice that answer. It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out what your career goals are. At one point in my life I did have an ultimate career goal. When I was fresh out of college, I was full of ambition. Then reality set in and life gave me a beating. I still have ambition-I just no longer have an ultimate goal in mind. There are so many thing I realized I could be happy doing. I resolved a few years ago just to be open to career possibilities and see where the path takes me. A free love, hippie dippie approach to my career goals.

But the opportunity to move forward in the interview process is something that I’m incredibly grateful for-and I definitely needed it to boost my self-esteem. I am also grateful that I had an opportunity to help others last week. I really am trying to stick to an effort of giving back in some way once a week. Last week I volunteered at a small food pantry in my community for a few hours. It was a little overwhelming at first. I was asked to work in the produce section of the pantry. A nice man named Dave tried to explain in about 45 seconds flat how much produce every person gets. “Each person gets 1 bread-unless that have more people in their family then they can have 2. Then they can have 2 ears of corn per family member; 2 grape tomatoes, turnips, squash, apples, watermelon” He said other numbers in there but I had sufficiently zoned out. He must have seen the blank look on my face because he smiled and said “don’t worry I’ll be here”. He disappeared soon after. I think I gave too much bread away-because we ran out early. All we had in the last hour were hot dog buns but people smiled and said thank you. I have never been more grateful to be able to put food on the table in my life. It’s the smallest things that we take for granted. I’m looking forward to going back next week.

You’ve got me feeling a bit feverish

As a child I used to seek attention from my parents by pretending to be sick.  So much so that when I actually was sick they never believed me.  So one day when I was 9 and woke up with the feeling like my head had been pounded in-my mom was less than ready to jump to my aid.  It was Christmas Eve, my sister’s birthday and the morning of her Christmas recital with her choir group.  My mom came into my room bright and early and was less than pleased to see that I had not moved from my bed.  She told me to get dressed and that I shouldn’t make my sister late on the big day.  I tried to tell her about my  headache but she was also less than thrilled that I was “pulling something like this” on a day like that day.  So I tried to get up and put on an outfit for the recital but ended up slumped on the floor.  She came back in later with a final warning.  Seeing that I was still not dressed and just laying on the floor she became angry.  So my mom and my sister left me behind.  She did feel bad when they came back home hours later to find me on the couch with my head in one of those huge black kitchen trash bags.  For once I had been telling the truth. 

It turned out a few months later when my mom took me to the doctor that these frequent episodes were really migraines.  A term that has evolved in meaning for me in the past two decades.  My migraines slowed down in my teenage years.  I rarely got them and when I went away to college I didn’t even have medication for them anymore.  Then on the first day of my sophomore year of college I came down with the “flu”.  I kept coming down with this “flu” frequently throughout the semester.  My parents were worried, I was worried.  When I went to the doctor he looked at me like I had 5 heads and said “well it’s your migraines”.  Why hadn’t I thought of that?  They were bad in college but they were worse once I graduated.  I started getting migraines several times a month and up until last January was getting them 15 times a month.  I was starting to forget what a healthy migraine free day was.  It was ruining my life and making my job annoyed with my frequent absences.  So I made some life changes this year and got them back down to about 5 times a month.  Still too frequent but bearable. 

When I submitted my post last night, I went to bed feeling a bit nervous for my big interview in the morning.  I also went to bed with a terrible headache from what I thought was a product of 2 dark beers with friends the evening before.  I woke continuously through the night in excruciating pain in the front and back of my head.  When my alarm went off at 6 am I realized I had just one hour to try to get rid of this thing.  I started my normal “migraine healing routine”.  I walked with a pounding head into the kitchen to take a migraine pill.  I poured myself a big glass of water and started to chug it.  I grabbed a roll from the bread shelf and laid in the dark on the couch for 30 minutes forcing pieces of bread down my throat so that the medicine wouldn’t make me nauseous.  Everything hurt and every time I tried to move I could feel my pulse in my eyes.  I was losing hope for my interview.  My face felt like it was burning so I went upstairs to take my temperature.  Almost 100 degrees-well that was new.  Usually a fever does not accompany my migraines.

 It was now 6:45 I had 15 minutes to get ready for work.  I went back into our bedroom to get my husband’s advice.  “Seth…”, I whispered at him.  No movement.  “Seth…”, I said again in my normal speaking voice.  He stirred and made a noise and rolled away from me.  My head was pounding!  “SETH”, I half shouted and pushed him in the shoulder.  He groggily responds “What?  What’s wrong?”.  “I’m sick.  What should I do?”.  He looks at me and says “Oh just come back to bed”.  “Well what about the interview?”.  “Oh”, he says sleepily, “I don’t know”.  I get it I guess I wouldn’t be helpful either if someone woke me out of a deep sleep at 6:45 in the morning.  I realized then that I needed to cancel.  I can barely walk around my house let alone answer interview questions. 

It was horribly embarrassing to ask to reschedule my interview.  I realize that I’m sure it happens but I am positive it can’t look good to have someone call in sick to an interview.  They luckily did reschedule me for Wednesday.  Here’s to hoping that my ugly migraines don’t make another appearance on that day as well.  In the meantime, I’m hoping I made the right call for today. 

With this horribly crummy day I need to take a moment to reflect on the good things that happened this weekend.  We did get to meet up with some friends this weekend for a baseball game on Friday night and for dinner/drinks on Saturday.  The weekend was full of laughter, too much fun food, and big news shared between friends.  Seth’s friend from high school and his wife announced the birth of their first child.  It’s such an exciting time in our life, and I’m glad to have great friends to share it with.  It makes bad days like today a little more bearable when you have good friends to get you through. 

I’m Over-Thinking My Life Plan Again…

My original goal when I started this blog was to write every day for 100 days.  I have realized in the past week that life is hectic and my goal may have been a far reaching one.  I have started this sentence for this post at least 2 times prior now.  But every time I try to write a little furry face appears before me with an item that he cannot have-leading to a 10 minute struggle.  Even this morning as I sat down at my desktop in our office to have a moment of peace I heard him scratching at the door to be let out; my husband continued to snore away.  BUT I am still writing or at least thinking about writing so that is a small victory in itself.  I still feel like I’m accomplishing something and that was part of my original goal.  As with many times in life I start out with a Plan A and have to move to a Plan B (or let’s be honest a Plan X).  

 

This idea of planning my life actually came up in a conversation this week with my husband and sister.  I am a planner, I like lists.  I’m a severely anxious and forgetful person and I came to realize in college that lists and schedules help with both of those issues.  I am also the type of person who likes to know as much information as possible before making a big life decision.  I like to think and plan and make sure that I am making the most informed decision as possible.  I realize that this can be an annoying trait.  Especially because I am a spazz and will worry myself sick over if I am making the right decision.  For instance, when we put on offer on our house I couldn’t eat or sleep for days.  It was a huge decision and one that I wanted so desperately but could not decide if it was the best decision for us at the moment.  It was a lot more money a month than we originally had discussed.  The decision has turned out ok but the adjustment in income has hit us.  We are getting by but we are having a hard time letting go of the things we were able to do pre-house.  

 

This week another big life decision has come to my attention in the form of an interview.  In the last post, I had a mild freak out about not getting a job with the government office in which employs our contract company.  As it turns out, I did get that interview which is scheduled for the upcoming Monday.  On the phone call with the HR lady, I learned of a few interesting factors.  1. I would be taking a $1000 a year pay cut and they would not go any higher; 2. I needed to inform my boss of the interview because of how the contract with our company is written; and 3. in addition to the interview for the department I applied there was an additional job available in the department that we work closest with that I am now interviewing for on Monday.  All of these factors were a tad problematic in different ways.  

 

Let’s start with the last one.  I know this comes off as sounding picky; especially because my whole goal was to find another job.  The job that I have a surprise interview for is in the data entry division; this is the office that my contract company works directly with.  I’ve known all the ladies in the office there for 5 years.  They’re nice enough; but I would have less responsibility than I do at the moment.  I would say out of a 40 hour work week they probably work about 10.  Maybe a little more if it’s an there’s a deadline for something.  I just don’t know if I would be happier there.  The planner in me is jumping ahead of myself though.  Nothing has been offered to me so there  really is no reason to worry about it until then.  The same could be said for the salary cut.  Part of my quest for being a more positive person is also to let go of things until they are concrete instead of worrying myself sick over “what ifs”. 

 

The second problem though was a real concrete problem however.  Back in 2013 I had another interview for the county with a job I really wanted.  When they called to tell me about the interview they informed me I had to tell my boss about it since they had that clause in the contract about not poaching his employees.  The 2013 discussion about the interview did not go well.  My boss was offended and obviously off-put that I was considering leaving.  It was a big deal for a job that did not even pan out.  And it made things awkward for awhile.  So when the county called  last week about the interview they once again told me that I would need to tell my boss about it so there would be issues with the contract. 

 

I decided to first tell my supervisor this time to try to feel her out of how he would react to the news.  She took the  news well and even told me that my boss had stopped into her office the week before telling her he had heard I was interviewing down there.  That shocked me since I had just heard from the county office that same day.  The office rumor mill strikes again and I gave myself a silent reminder to be careful who I tell things to.  My supervisor assured me that my boss was expecting the news and would definitely not fire me.  She must have seen the terrified look on my face when she told me she still thought it was a good idea that I had a conversation with him.

 

I stopped into his office bright and early the next day.  I like to get bad news or conflict over with ASAP. I paced outside of his office for a good 10 minutes before I had made up my mind to go in.  I marched straight into his office and broke the news of the interview to him.  The reaction was much better this time.  He once again, as in back in 2013, tried to talk me out of it.  And I again told him that “there was nothing wrong with having a conversation and hearing them out”.  To which amazingly, he agreed.  He worried that I wasn’t happy with the company (I’m not entirely); but I replied that it was a job stability issue that was the risk of working for a contract company.  He tried to convince me then that I would have a job until 2018.  “I will?”, I replied skeptically.  “Well yes…as long as we get the next contract”, he replied.  No-that wasn’t promising enough.  But I left the dreaded conversation feeling better and more confused than ever.  I suddenly was filled with hesitation and with the feeling of maybe I wasn’t doing the right thing.  Maybe this job was not right for me.  The over-thinker in me was winning an inward struggle.   

 

I hope that when the time comes I can make the best decision for myself and my husband.  In the meantime, I am going to try to remain positive and calm.  I am terrible with first impressions which means I am also terrible with interviews.  But after an hour of prep tonight I hope that tomorrow I can at least give it my best. 

Dog Days of Summer

These last two days have been quite an adjustment from  my week long stay-cation.  It’s always hard to go back to work after some time off and it has not been too enjoyable to be back.  I went to the office on  Monday with a positive attitude but it fell flat as soon as I walked in the door.  For starters, a few weeks ago when my company had to lay off a few of the clerical staff, my work “bff” was one of them.  A 60 year old lady who has a heart of gold but sometimes a bit of a temper.  This lay off was meant to be a temporary one: about 3-4 weeks.  It’s still not enjoyable for anyone who has to pay their bills.  I was spared but the work bff was not.  I’ve worked with and been friends with this person for almost 5 years now.  When she got laid off she left in quite a huff and was rumored to have quit.  I have no idea where I was when this all went down (I think working and watching Netflix on my phone in the other row of cubicles) but she left without even a goodbye; even to people she has worked with for a decade.

When I got to the office on Monday my supervisor informed me that the “bff” would not return when the others came back from the lay-off.  She had been so angry that she had decided she would take an early retirement.  She did come back into the office later that day and gave me a short, very awkward and strange goodbye.  Kind of like “hey I’m not coming back.  Have a nice life”.  It was longer than that but you get the drift.  Not exactly the goodbye you would expect to have with the woman who came to your bridal shower, who you went gambling and shopping with occasionally, who knows you like whole grain bagels from Panera on your birthday, and has been there for you even when you ugly cry.  I felt a little hurt and definitely slighted.  It kicked my Monday into a bad start; I really hate to lose friends.

I also found out that I did not get hired or even get the interview round at a job that I really thought I had a chance of getting.  I applied to the government office, that I work for mind you.  Not even the office that I have worked for 5 years wants to hire me.  That’s bruises one’s ego.  I found myself going to the place of rejection and self-loathing again.  And yes I turned to stuffing my face with sad potato chips when I got home.  I definitely had a set-back these last few days with my quest for a more positive life.  I felt like the progress and momentum that I had gained last week deflated like an old balloon this week.

Another family member that has not adjusted well to me going back to work this week is our 8 month old puppy Alvin.  We adopted Alvin in February at a local shelter when he was 3 months old.  The shelter told us that Alvin and his 3 brothers were found on a farm in Athens County and did not have a lot of socialization with humans.  When we brought Alvin home, he was so shy and timid of everything.  He would shake if we left a room without him.  That version of Alvin did not last long.  Soon he was a puppy with boundless energy and with a large personality.  He loves every dog and human he comes across (thankfully).

Alvin loved having me home last week.  It was almost like having a completely different dog.  I was used to a crazy, never stops puppy who runs laps around our dining room table.  Last week, he cuddled, napped, and played quietly with his toys.  Needless to say, the stress of going back to work was only made worse by an angry dog  who had to go back to being confined during the day.  Last night he destroyed things at my house and my parent’s house.  His sleeping schedule is off so he thought playtime was at 12:30 am.  Today on our walk he decided he wanted to walk me by playing tug of war with his leash.  When I would get it back from him he would lay down in the road.  I’m sure I looked abusive/nuts pulling my dog on the gravel road because he refused to move.   People in cars were staring as I pulled him to his feet.  I find myself wishing him to be old and lazy on days like these past two.

It’s easy to let the stress of life make you forget to appreciate and be present in the moment.  Alvin has been a great addition to our little family.  Sometimes he’s exhausting and frustrating because he is literally the most stubborn dog I have met.  But he is also so loving to every stranger, dog, and child we come across.  Before we got the dog, I was lonely when my husband would work nights.  Having Alvin around has made less fearful of the house and he makes for a great companion.  He also lets me hug him and smell his ears after a long day.  Something about burying my face into a dog’s ears is the most comforting thing in the world to me (I have no shame on what I publically admit on the internet).  Plus who can stay mad at this face??

Tomorrow will be a new day.  Here’s to hoping I don’t end it with stress eating.

It’s Not Easy Being Green

Today is Sunday. A time for rest and relaxation. A time to prepare for the beginning of another work week. Or in my case, the last day of the infamous mandatory stay-cation. Sunday is also a day of dread, because who really likes preparing for the work week? Menu’s need to be planned, grocery lists are written, laundry is thrown into washer’s, and dog toy remains are extracted and laid to rest in a bin. At least that’s the prep in my house. Today however my dog gave me Sunday surprise hefty pile of dog throw up to clean. Crap.

Poor sick Alvin on a healthier day.

Let’s take a break from this story and rewind to move-in day with my now husband 5 years prior. When I moved into Seth’s apartment with him I knew there would be an adjustment period. Finding out his weird quirks and strange ways would be a trying time in our relationship. I figured one quirk or hot button within the first few hours of co-habitation. That day I brought with me some cleaning supplies (I was moving in with a boy-Seth is neat but not the epitome of clean). I brought the basics: Swiffers of various sizes, bleach products, wipes, the ever amazing Magic Clean Erasers, and of course paper towels. I knew Seth was very environmentally friendly when I met him. I just thought that his lack of paper products was due to the fact that he was a 23 year-old male in a bachelor pad. Not that he had major opposition to owning and consuming paper products.

A heated conversation ensued once he discovered my paper products inside his home. As a compromise I agreed to give his “no paper products” rule a whirl, excluding Kleenex and toilet paper-those would have to stick around. To be honest it was easier than I thought to give it up. I use old rags for cleaning and big messes, cloth napkins for meals, and absolutely no paper plate or cups. It has only led to a fight a few times-throw up accidents are one of them. Which is why my first thought really was “CRAP” when the dog threw up this morning.

Cleaning throw up without a paper towel or napkin is not a fun thing to do. I stood over his mess for a second wondering the best plan of attack. I had seen a few hidden paper towels in the bathroom closet-I had insisted on paper towels when we first got the dog because house breaking a dog without paper towels is also no fun. I had to climb up on the radiator and reach them to only discover that there were about 2 paper towels left on the roll; not enough for this giant mess. But with 2 paper towels, 2 plastic Kroger bags, and the use of the actual paper towel roll I was able to effectively clean up our poor sick Alvin’s mess. When Seth came up to help I asked him to get me some toilet paper to finish wiping up; he handed me a rag. I love that hippie man.

This whole story caused me to reflect on how grateful I am for my little family. My husband and dog can always be counted on to make an annoying or unpleasant situation into a comedic one; even if I can’t see the humor in it at the time I can always look back on these situations and laugh. I feel blessed that these two are in my life and I will continue to try not to take it for granted.

So far this whole experience is lighting a fire under my butt to apply to more jobs, which happens to be the most tedious task. You may spend over an hour on one job application. I like jobs where I can make a profile for the company and not have to spend too much time retyping the same information over and over again. I decided today to apply to 2 jobs; one for a local university in the area and the second at Nationwide Children’s Hospital as a Quality Data Analyst. I had already spent about 45 on the university job which did not require a profile. The second job though required that I fill out a ton of information but it would save it for additional applications, or at least I thought it would. I filled out my work experience, gave my reference information, education information, uploaded a current resume, and worked on a new cover letter to provide. All and all it took about 80 minutes to create this online profile. Once I hit reply, I went to apply for different job within the hospital. I discovered to my horror and frustration that it had erased all my information. *Slaps palm to forehead* That’s enough motivation for me today time to go back to the HBO GO app. It’s Sunday Funday and the frustration is ruining the funday part.