Hot, Hot Heat

On Monday, I had my cryosurgery.I woke up around 10/10:30 and decided that after an entire month had passed, I should go to the grocery store. I also needed gas for the Honda so I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. It took all of an hour and so I headed to the post office to look for the three Fall Out Boy cds I had ordered from Amazon. Two were there and that was ok.

Then I went home and starved myself for lunch, which is my latest and not so greatest, trend. I watched The People’s Court and soon it was 2:00. I headed off to the Allentown Office of my OBGYN. The waiting room alone is three times the size of the Laurys Station one. And when I got there it was filled with everything from teenage girls to pregnant women. I settled into one of the chairs and happily picked up a copy of Jane magazine which had Zooey Deschanel on the cover. Fantastic!

Minutes later I was called in. I followed the nurse down a bunch of winding, mauve hallways until we reached the room. She weighed me (i always close my eyes for that) and then took my blood pressure. I hadn’t been nervous but I was getting more and more as I waited. Then she left and told me to disrobe bottoms only. I pulled the sheet over my lap and waited. It should have been a little larger because I am a modest person. Soon my doctor came in and he re-explained the surgery with one new fact, the cervix can not feel hot or cold so I won’t feel that. But I will feel uncomfortable. That’s to be expected.

I laid down and waited. The nurse had some problems with the machine (i guess it was her first time) but soon we were on our way. The entire procedure lasts three minutes. As my doctor put it, the longest three minutes of your life. Reminds me of a pregnancy test, a home pregnancy test. Not that I know. The most amazing part of the three minutes was when my doctor, who I see once a year for about 5 minutes at the most, said I could help pass the time by singing a song. I declined but was glad that the ice was broken. And after I counted to 1,000,000 the time was up.

I was handed a list of instructions and told to make an appointment for a month from now for post-surgery follow up. They also gave me a feminine product because I would need it. For three weeks my body will be healing. I got dressed and headed to the appointment station. When it was my turn I leaned against the wall. I had suddenly become very warm and felt dizzy. The woman told me to take a seat and soon a nurse was at my side. She gave me a glass of water and said she would check on me in a few. When she came back I was cold but not dizzy anymore. But I had started cramping. She asked if I had taken Tylenol or anything before I came and I didn’t know I should have. She said it should be the first thing I do when I get home. Then she made me stand to prove I was ok. On the way home I drove with my seat partially reclined because it hurt so bad. They said I could drive myself and I really had nobody go with me so I did.

When I got home I took the pills and laid down. After awhile the pain did not subside and I was given a heating pad to lay on my belly. It helped for a few hours. Then I got up and ate some dinner. By that time the pain had gone away. It was probably the Caesar Salad that helped. For the rest of the night I was ok. I told only a few people about the surgery and they all asked about me. Then I went to sleep. I was half hoping for cramps so I could skip out of work the next day and sleep in again. That didn’t happen. The only other time I cramped up was on Thursday.

Three weeks of healing is a very long time. I’m not even done with week one yet and I desperately wish I was. For my first procedure, the biopsy, all the other stuff never happened. I was hoping that would be true with this procedure but sadly it’s not. I am quite literally a fountain. Ugh.

In July, the day before Live Earth, I return for my post-surgery checkup. He will take a new Pap Smear and it comes back ok I will be free until next year. I really hope it comes back clean.

Not Working Out…

I didn’t eat lunch today.

I brought lunch, plucked it out of the freezer before heading to work. I put it in the freezer at work with all intentions of eating it at noon when I take my lunch. But I just didn’t do it.

I had a very rough night last night, the first Thursday. And I feel very stupid about it. I won’t reach out to anyone although everyone has told me that I should and that I can. Instead I just tried to squash it on my own.

My life reminds me of the opening scenes of the movie Elizabethtown. In the movie, which I’ve come to love over the years, Orlando Bloom’s character is returning to the company, an-almost-but-not-quite-like Nike Corporation. He launched his first sneaker and it failed, costing the company BILLIONS, as his boss likes to remind him. When he enters the building he tells everyone, including people who are merely staring at him, the exact same thing – “I’m fine.” He’s not fine and after he gives a horrible interview he returns home and empties his apartment before preparing to commit suicide.

(Please note, however sad I am death is NOT an option. Ever.)

I’m fine.

I say it all of the time. I say it with such conviction that you have no other choice but to believe me. But you also know I’m lying through my teeth. I also have a tendency to repeat over and over again, It was for the best.

Since about a week ago, or last Wednesday, I haven’t slept. I’m extremely exhausted but my body repels the idea of sleep, let alone a restful night’s sleep. Since last Saturday I have not eaten a full day’s worth of meals. I am so very hungry. All I can do is have my bowl of cereal in the morning just so I don’t pass out or puke at the office. But when lunchtime comes around I decide to devour this week’s book instead of the Lean Pocket I have in the freezer. And when I get home? It’s ok. I can lie on the couch and sulk. No movement means the lack of food can’t affect me. A dizzy trip to the bathroom is cake.

Except on Tuesday when I got home from work and was starving. I actually made some Bagel Bites and had a bowl of potato chips and ATE. What happened next? I was nauseous for the rest of the evening. I could have thrown up. No more of that. But the next night my mother ordered pizza and fries and I took down the French Fries but the pizza? It just wasn’t the same. I stopped mid-bite. I also find that with all of my best intentions to eat, I am wasting a lot of food. I’ll make something and get like, halfway through it before throwing it away. My jeans fit better so it’s not all bad. Really.

As far as sleep…. I have no idea how to shut off my brain. Every little thing from a commercial for car insurance to a WPT televised even has me thinking about him. And I don’t want to think about him. He’s not thinking about me. But I do. And so when I lay down in my bed at night, exhausted and emotionally drained from surviving another day, I want so desperately to sleep but he floods my brain. And my tear ducts. Sometimes I don’t even know why I am crying. Remember the last post? I know it’s the right thing, to be broken up, but my body just will not accept it.

I’m taking a solo road trip on Saturday to Scranton. I’m not putting my life on hold for this. I’m not missing out on this opportunity. I just hope the drive helps. I hope to get new pictures and start to rebuild the life I’m so used to – the single life. I might take a trip up to Massachusetts this summer with my mother, too. A girls-only getaway. Have I mentioned that everyone is suffocating me? Last weekend I got a group hug from my family. Even the mystery father who has been silent since Christmas is talking to me. It’s odd. I don’t know if I like all this attention or secretly loathe it. When I figure it out I will let you know.

I debated removing the old posts. But I figured if it’s supposed to be an honest blog, then I’ll let them up. I deleted posts back before I met James because it talked about the one time I slept with Ben, two weeks before we met. It wasn’t a bad thing and I didn’t do anything wrong, it was just that there was a lot of confusion and emotion attached to it. Plus, I had told him I spent that weekend with girlfriends. If I couldn’t be honest about that…well the post had to be removed. Makes me wonder though, if I couldn’t explain that to him then sheesh what was I doing? I mean, yes, I was no angel in this relationship. I have officially kept 3 sorta big secrets from him when we were dating about things that happened during the time we were dating. Sometimes I feel as if I should blog them. One of them was one of the PostSecret postcards that I sent out. Hmm, maybe then I have 5 sorta big secrets, if you count my other two postcards. I also considered posting those postcards on my blog. But some of those “secrets” no longer apply and make me look pretty stupid. Granted, I never once cheated on him….but still. Secrets are secrets.

By the way, I feel completely stupid. I don’t like feeling how I do. I’m a logical person and this just does not make sense to me. I want to eat. I want to sleep. I want to stop crying. I want to move on and look for that one special person who is not going to be perfect but will at least give me the respect that I deserve. Because I feel so stupid, I resist the urge to call my friends. I don’t want them to agree and think I’m stupid. I was yelled at today because I am very wrong for doing that. I was told that I should call. The example was that I was going to have bad days/nights in the future. If I call for help during those it’s alot different than if I call every time the rain comes down outside. I will have a purpose and people will help me. I dunno…it’s hard to ask for help. I don’t like to interfere with people’s daily existence.

Anyway, I got off track I think. But now I can’t find my way back to it.

I’m hungry.

But I’m fine.

I Made a Mistake.

James broke up with me on Saturday.

I was unprepared in some aspects and prepared in others. 

Friday morning I put all of the clothes I had borrowed from him into the laundry.  Then when I got home I packed up them, his non-refundable birthday gifts, his uncle’s book and some other stuff in a bag.  I put it in the trunk of my car only for worst-case scenario purposes.  Then, thankfully, I went out on Friday with friends and did not worry about it too much.

Saturday morning I woke up and took a shower. I was excited that I was finally going to see my boyfriend.  I had another birthday gift coming in the mail and I had already re-designed my plans for his birthday celebration/poker game.  I plugged in my straightener and was settling into the Best Week Ever when my cellphone sang my favorite part of that Justin Timberlake song.  It was him.

I answered and was happy to tell him about my Friday night.  I had already put the past fights behind me. We were ok.  But after he told me about his evening and he became silent I knew that I was in trouble.  His first question to me was to tell him what was on my mind.  No way. I knew what was on my mind was probably different than what was on his.  And I am a talker and I didn’t want to run with the conversation.  So I refused to answer.

We went back and forth for a while about if we were going to meet up and talk face to face. He kept making excuses until finally telling me that I wouldn’t want to drive down here because I wouldn’t like what I was going to hear.  My heart dropped.  I gave up and asked him to just tell me then whatever it is he had to say.  I should have stood my ground.  I should have told him to come up here and do what needed to be done.  To act like a man.  But I didn’t.

And so he went through his list of excuses about how we are different; family life, socially, etc.  He said that there was no time to see me and that was unfair to me.  He said that sexually we were opposites.  I was very into everything and he was not into much.  I sat and I listened and I also had to pull the information from him.  He had made the decision but was not interested in owning it and getting it done with?  I was crying but I was not hysterical.  I was mad but I did not yell at him.  My weakest moment came when I asked if there was anything that I or we could do to fix this.  I knew that there wasn’t anything but I asked anyway.

Then I was asked to tell him my side and it sounded somewhat foolish to tell him that I had always just assumed that they way we talked and the plans that we made would allow us to be together in the future.  I told him I had not picked out China patterns or anything but I had at a time felt confident that we would be together for a long time.  And then I asked him something I should have asked him a long time ago.  I asked him what he saw in his future or if he ever thought about us in the future.  His answer was that he had not thought about that.  To any normal person who would have asked the question months ago it would have been a red flag.  For me it was a white one. I surrendered to the idea of breaking up.

An hour later we hung up and I had my very first panic attack.  I heaved and my shoulders shook and I could barely breathe.  I was alone in my house and had no idea what to do or what was going to happen.  I sent a text message to a few people. I stood up and walked to the computer and just robotically changed my MySpace profile from taken and covered in pictures to James to single and out there looking.  I e-mailed my bestfriend and some other people.  Then I cried some more.  Texts and calls came in throughout the day.  My family got home and everyone embraced me.  Even my father spoke to me for the first time in five months.  Everyone I knew was genuinely concerned about me.  Some people made very valid points when we spoke, some said very nice things about the relationship and others couldn’t believe that I was not angry.

How could I be angry? Here was a guy who I had loved so much that I would have done anything for.  He has decided that he does not love me anymore and that he cannot be with me.  It was the truth.  And to be fair, after looking back at this relationship we weren’t as happy and as perfect as I made us out to be.  Any man who will never, in any circumstances, put his girlfriend first is not boyfriend or husband material.  There are times in everyone’s lives where that will happen.  Just not in his.  Some of our wonderful events or dates were only about 99.9998% wonderful when looking back.  Take for instance; Yllek’s wedding when I was very ill. Yes, he took care of me all night but his commitment to his team the next morning was still more important than waiting for my mother to pick me up and get me home.  Did you know that for months I had been thinking about that day and how wonderful it was in a way to convince myself that he loved me? Oh how wrong I was.

Also, there were so many things that I found fun in my life that he did not.  He wasn’t into roller coasters and so we could never go to my favorite place – Hershey Park.  Walking a five-block radius in New York City hurt his knees so we could never travel around Times Square in winter like I’d want.  He was not a fan of the beach and so we could never take a relaxing romantic journey there either.  Plus, I doubt any of those events would have happened without him being attached to his cellphone when one of the boys called.  I don’t mean to be rude but his friends were always more important to me. In the beginning he was nice and shut off the phone.  Towards the middle the phone would be on.  Then at the end, he’d take the calls.

Breaking up was for the best.  I know that now.  I know that I was making him to be someone he never was.  I was in love with him. I would have done anything to make him happy.  But when it really comes down to it, I don’t believe he would have done the same for me.

The hardest times for me came on Saturday when I’d reach out and grab my neck. I’d go for the eternity circle necklace he gave me on Christmas.  Unfortunately, I had taken it off after I hung up.  I knew it was the right thing to do and I also plan on returning it to him.  But it honestly makes me cry every time I reach for it.  Crying, though, pisses me off, too.  I know it’s the right decision for us to break up but yet I still cry? Why? I can’t understand it. I’ve also stopped eating (my stomach feels like a mess) and I haven’t slept.  THIS WAS THE RIGHT THING FOR US!  Ugh. I just don’t understand my reactions.  I am a strong woman who has been dumped before.  I move on and I get over it. Not much more to say about it.

What I will say is how ironic the whole thing is.  I was dumped in high school by my boyfriend of a year after going to the SteamTown Mall for the first time.  My boyfriend in college dumped me after I purchased for him the WTC signed poster he would die over for Christmas (oh and the Oakley’s that cost me a fortune).  A guy who had no time for me and only had time for his friends and golfing dumped me another time.  I was also dumped after spending some time in the hospital for female health issues.  Hmm, I just purchased a kick-ass Gymkata XL movie poster for James’ birthday.  I was heading to the SteamTown Mall for the second trip ever this weekend.  He had no time for me, friends only.  I have my next surgery appointment in less than a month for something that he could have possibly given me…(something I regret not telling him).  It’s just a sea full of ironies here.

But like I said, this was for the best. I was violently awoken from this fairy tale I thought I was living.  I was wrong. I was mistaken.  I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t love him. I just realize now that my love was very one-sided and skewed.

Rough, illogical days are ahead.  The dye for the magical poker cookies will arrive soon and in a few weeks so will the Gymkata poster.  The season finale of the Office is coming up, too.  Not to mention the fact that someone I’ve been speaking to almost everyday for the past year and a half is now gone from my life.  It’ll be tough but I will get through it with the help of my family and friends.  I just hope they will be patient with me.

It’s Not Fun Anymore

When I was 19, I had to go the hospital because my doctor was convinced my appendix was about to burst.  I was having extreme abdominal pain and was extremely uncomfortable. They had stopped after seeing my doctor but her orders were that if I got them again I would have to go to the E.R.  And yes, when they first started I didn’t say anything because I was scared.  They didn’t go away and so finally I said something and we loaded into the car and headed for the E.R. down in Allentown.  17th and Chew, I think.  We got there and they ran a couple tests.  I wanted my mother in the room with me because I was so nervous.  It was then that she found out my horrible secret – I was not a virgin. Good times to say the least.  After a couple more tests they determined that I needed to be admitted. I was told to try and get some sleep and then in the middle of the night an ambulance showed up and took me to Lehigh Valley Hospital. I remember one thing from the ambulance ride. Ok, two things. I remember how cold it was outside the hospitals but I also remember passing HamFam on my way to the next hospital.  When I arrived I was set up for more tests including an MRI to look at my appendix.  I spent over 24 hours in the hallway of the E.R. there before getting a room.  They determined it was not appendicitis and instead was some sort of inflammatory pelvic disease. Common in women.  During that three day stay at the hospital, I had my first gynecological exam.  It wasn’t as scary as my mother always made it seem to be.  It was normal.  When I got released from the hospital I made a few decisions. A.) The current Boyfriend had to go because he couldn’t drive 15 minutes to visit me in the hospital.  B.) I needed to go regularly for my OBGYN check up. 

I kept my word (on both accounts) and now I go every year.  Until recently (and due to scheduling conflicts) my visits used to be in January. Why not start off the year with a clean bill of health. Seemed like a smart plan.  This year between crazy periods and other crazy things in my life I did not get into see my doctor until the end of March.  Much later than I’d had like.  This was when the period decided to go missing for awhile and when I was super stressed with life, love and everything else.   

My doctor, he’s crazy.  He is a short bald old man.  He never really asks me alot of questions but he’s always nice to me.  He was so funny the first time I asked to go on the pill.  Condoms were my birth control for like, three years, when I had asked and he really saw no reason to put me on the Pill. But I wanted to try it and so he gave me a prescription. Sure I ended up hating it but what can you do? He just never recommends things to me or anything.  He basically let’s me do what I like.  

So I went in this March for my appointment and I told him about the missing period. He wasn’t worried and told me about how stress can make it go away for a long time (up to six months).  He checked me out and then gave me my new birth control prescription.  One that was going to solve some of my problems.  I was in and out of there in less than 15 minutes.  Painless. I was surprised when my phone rang about two weeks later.  It was the office telling me I had an abnormal pap smear and that I needed to come back for a colopscopy.  I had never heard of that and the woman on the phone fed me a lot of information.  I barely retained any of it and just scribbled down what I could.  Then she transferred me to the appointment line and I set it up.  I hung up my cell phone and went to my car where I called James and cried and cried.  I was basically going to the doctor so that he could paint my um….area, with vinegar.  Bad cells would show up in white and if there were some a biopsy would be taken and sent off to a lab to see what was wrong. 

Smart as I am, I got the very first open appointment and went in. It was a Friday and I was tired due to not sleeping and of course, worrying all night.  I knew that the big C, Cancer, was part of the equation here.  At least as a possibility.  So I was scared.  I sat in the waiting room amongst a big family who was there for a sonogram.  Soon I was called into the room and got to tell my favorite nurse in a “ha ha, told you so” sort of way that my period had showed up.  Next time she shouldn’t make such an “ohmigosh” face when I tell her it’s missing.  Anyway, instead of having to completely disrobe I got to only lose the bottoms. I was perched on a rising stirrup table and lifted into the air.  I really didn’t feel much of anything but I could still see the doctor when he furrowed his brow.  If anything, they are all very good at explaining things because he told me next that he was going to take the biopsy.  When he said it I felt tears welling up but I held them back.  I was preparing for pain but there was none and soon it was all over.  As I got dressed all I could think about was cancer and I started to cry.  I took a minute or two to breathe and then left. 

They told me I would hear in about a week so I tried to forget about Friday.  By Thursday night it was all I could think about.  On Friday I stared at my phone and wouldn’t leave my office for fear I’d miss the call.  Well, the call never came.  The weekend passed and soon Monday passed, too.  At the urging of my boyfriend I decided that Wednesday would be the day that I called for information.  Mid-e-mail to him, my phone rang on Wednesday morning. I knew it was the office.  Once again I had to prepare to listen and so I grabbed my yellow tablet and wrote down what I could. I have to go back.  I need to get cryosurgery.  Basically they will freeze all those bad cells off?  I’m also going to become a fountain for a few weeks until I heal.  Then I’ll have to go back every 2-3 months for pap smears until 3 in a row come back positively clear.  She said I do have the HP virus but that I have like two different strings of it.  It’s going to go away on it’s own and there really is no medication for it.  She also said that I was at Level 1.  Level 4 is cancer.  But she made sure to mention that I was closer to having a clean pap than to the cancer at Level 4.  After all the information she transferred me to schedule the appointment.  The earliest I could get in was for June 11th.  Yes, I have over a MONTH before this is taken care of.  I’m not very happy.  When I got off the phone I called James to let him know what was going on.  I didn’t cry but I was close.  He was concerned and pissed off that I had to wait until June for the next appointment.   

So now I sit and I wait. And it sits and waits inside of me. Nothing I enjoy thinking about.  I don’t want it to get worse because I have to wait! After each procedure I have been banned from having sex.  And although I can from now up until June I am not sure if I’ll even have the desire.  I feel dirty and tainted in a way.  I always prided myself about those appointments to prove that I was STD-free and in a sense  “clean.”  

On a brighter, slightly unrelated note. The Yasmin is helping. I only had two days of PMDD and it came only five days before my period.  In addition though to the usual symptoms I realized that this month I got the anxiety portion.  I was a mess. I mean it’s insane and I cannot imagine how it feels to be someone who gets regular panic attacks. I could not live with those.  I would go to bed during these moments and just feel so hopeless that I had no control over anything.  It was horrible. But it was also gone pretty much right after it started. Unlike before when it was drawn out. 

Do I Pretend?

I went and visited the apartment for the first time on Wednesday night.My drive down was extremely soggy and although I was dying to get there, I didn’t want to die getting there. It had started to pour in the afternoon, the clouds became gray and then the rain came. I got out of work almost at 5 and as I was running to my car, James called. We talked for a minute and I was on my way. Not really, I was on my way to my grandmothers to pick up a package and then to the house so I could pack the car and feed the cats. I put my clothing in a backpack and put the dinner and dessert into plastic bags. I tried hard not to smoosh things.

Finally, by 5:30 I was on my way. I had called James and got my apartment complex directions (right, right, left, left) and headed towards the Turnpike. It was nice to see that on each street I turned on, the traffic jam was heading the opposite direction. When I got on the Turnpike, however, I was shocked to find construction. The right lane was torn up and there was uneven pavement for the first 15 miles or so. I had no choice but to drive in the passing lane the whole way down just to avoid that lane and the rumble strips. Nobody pushed me, which was nice and eventually I could get over. However, my desire to get there kept me going and going.

When I got off of the exit I called James and asked him to pre-heat the oven so the chicken could warm up. I also had to explain to him that pre-heat basically meant turn it on for 15 minutes. Within 10 minutes or less, I was arriving at the apartment complex. I was shocked and surprised by the speed bumps that welcomed me and so was the Honda. Even though I hit them at a slow speed they grinded my brakes (IE turned on my ABS). I was grumbling as I arrived and shut off my car. I had seen a guy in big picture window above where I parked and thought that he must now think I am crazy. I called James to let him know I had arrived and it turns out that was him. So he was halfway down to meet me at my car.

We loaded up with all my stuff and headed up the to the apartment. He opened the door and I was surprised to see how big it was! The living room alone was larger than my bedroom at home. Ok, so most things are but still. The walls were extremely bare, Asylum Chic. We put all the edibles in the kitchen and I unveiled the mystery dessert I had made (it was Oreo Cake) and gave him the muffin I had brought him. Then I put my backpack in his room and gave him his poker sign I got for a housewarming gift. In between it all I got lots of hugs.

Once 15 minutes had passed, we put the chicken and rice into the stove. Then we settled onto the couch and watched Law and Order. It didn’t feel weird to be there. I never even pictured what the place would look like but I was excited to finally have a visual, heck I was excited just to see it. I didn’t feel out of place, I actually was surprised at how normal it felt for us to be there. I didn’t dwell on this and instead focused on heating up the chicken for my man. Soon it was ready to go and after we found potholders, we were set. He made us a salad and got drinks together and I dished out the chicken. We ate at the little white table on the wall in the “dining” area. It was nice. We didn’t do alot of talking; we just focused on the episode on the TV. After dinner he required a back rub because softball had started. I argued that I had made him dinner and dessert and brought it all the way from home and now he wanted more! I was, of course, kidding around.

So after using the garbage disposal and soaking my baking dish, we headed to the living room. He grabbed the remote and sat on the floor in front of my chair while I kneaded and rubbed his back. We flipped through the movie channels and stumbled across the Scene It Game channels. We played the TV one and then continued to look for something to watch. By this time my fingers were sore and so I was running my fingertips along his neck and in his hair. Eventually, we gave up on watching a movie and moved to the couch. Baseball was all that was on and so instead of boring me to death we played the Movie and Music Scene It. It was nice being all cuddled up on the couch like we would have been back at the Cave. But after a boring night of TV (no good choices) we headed into bed. I was surprised to see a new comforter but other than that it was all the same old same old. It was warm though so there wasn’t much snuggling to be done. I was still a little wired but eventually managed to fall asleep. We shifted and woke up and it felt as if we were asleep for hours but only 3 had passed. Surprised as we were he finally came over and wrapped his big arm around me. I laced my fingers in between his and we were like that for a little bit.

I slept off and on for the majority of the night. Sometimes I would wake up and shift and turn to him and smile. He had his back to me and couldn’t even tell. One time I woke up and noticed something big and black scurrying across the ceiling. It was not coming toward me so I did not freak out completely. But I still wasn’t happy about it. I tried to go back to sleep but it was difficult to do. Soon enough it was morning and he headed into the shower while I got dressed and washed the dishes that I brought along. Then I sat at the table and ate my muffin while he prepared for work. I had already packed up all of my stuff and so we said goodbye in the living room and hugged and kissed before heading out in separate directions. I followed him to the Turnpike and lost him as I went into my EZ Pass Lane. There wasn’t much traffic on the highway and within an hour or so I was home with the cats, which were very hungry.

I had a few hours (maybe 2) before heading into work. I stayed and watched tv for a little then left. That day at work all I could think about was how normal the whole experience felt. I had not mentioned to him that I was happy with how it all had worked out. Or how after that last weekend before the move I was falling in love with him all over again. Or even how I just felt as if we were fine after the move and nothing really changed other than his location.

However, I never really talked about my new concerns either. Like how I was afraid that he would fall out of love with me. He had told me, just at random, that he loved me the night before while in the kitchen after dinner. I believed him. I believe him when he tells me at the end of every conversation but sometimes, I falter with my belief. I worry that my big mouth said something and now he’s doubting our relationship.

I sat at my desk working on some tasks that required little thought. All that I could think about was him and how great he was with calling me and letting me know what was going on. How I would smile whenever I would think of him. Sure, there were moments when I missed him but it wasn’t in the sense that he was so far away, it was more in the normal way that it had been a few days since I had seen him last.

That night we talked on the phone and I mentioned what was in my mind for so long. I told him how crazy we must be as a couple because we had transitioned so well with the move and talking and being ok. He didn’t really comment on that and we went to the next topic. After we got off of the phone I started to doubt all that I had said. Did he not feel the same way? Did he think that there were problems? And of course, I re-played that horrible conversation we had had prior to the move over and over again. By saying what I thought was the right thing (taking a break) but never truly wanting that did I alter our relationship forever? I don’t want to put ideas in his head but at the same time I don’t want him to think I’ve begun checking out on our relationship. In fact, I’ve checked in and now I’m more committed to it than ever. I hope it has nothing to do with almost having him break up with me. But I just cannot picture my life without him in it.

I know. I realize. I should talk to him about my concerns. But there is no good time. I could write a big long e-mail or I could just keep it inside until I finally bust. I’ll figure something out. But I want to tell him exactly how I feel and the thing I want more than anything is for him to tell me it is the same for him. I don’t want to be lied to of course but I just want to be reassured. There are times when I need that especially when I am willing to do so much for someone. Sometimes I am afraid that by doing too much for someone I love, I will ultimately push them away. And I don’t want that to happen to James and I. If anything I want to see that he too would do anything for me. Which, I believe is true but I just haven’t felt in awhile.

It doesn’t really feel like our relationship has changed too much. Sure, visiting him requires more gas. And I have to share him with other people who want to visit him. But that will all die down eventually and then it’ll be him and me taking on the world like always. Right? I’m confident enough to agree. I’ll be making many more trips down to the apartment in the upcoming months, I just know so.

L-O-V-E

I wish I could profess it loud and proud but I am concerned about putting it out there for you.  So sometimes I keep it inside and just hope and pray that you know.  But recently there have been famous people who have talked about it and their experiences with it and I find that I agree with them.

I’ll start out simple.

Christina Aguilera is married to Jordan Bratman.  She released a 2-dics CD called “Back to Basics” recently. I just got it. And I love the CD.  What I find most ironic is that she loves Jordan like I love you. 

Now granted, I didn’t make you a 2-disc CD where I wrote and sang all the songs but trust me.  The words that she sings about not thinking it was possible to find this kind of love ring true with me.  She really hits all the points about how she is interested in nobody but him, can’t imagine her life without him, etc. 

I can’t wait for her new single because I’d hope it would be one of the songs that says it right because currently on her MySpace player it’s all just those poppy singles.  “Ain’t No Other Man” is a great sentiment but there are more romantic thoughtful tracks on the CD.

And then there is Jenna Fischer.

She recently gave an interview to Women’s Health Magazine.  Here is the quote:

What about your husband — when did you realize hewas the one for you?
We were dating, and I was taking a bath. All of sudden I realized, “I’m never going to leave him. Never going to leave him. Huh.” So I knew either we’d get married, or he would break my heart.

Wow. I mean honestly, wow.  Doesn’t that say so much? It does for me.  I basically feel the same way, regardless of how many times I thought we should break or break up.  I never actually thought we should.  Usually I am doing what I think would be the “thing” to do. I’m never right.

I’m always the person who would let the other walk away.  I lived my life by that theory of if you let them go and they come back they are yours.  It was only in college when I realized that they never truly come back and never in the same way as originally. It is time for me to fight for what I want. To make it work until I can’t anymore. And then, God forbid if that happens, I would be hurt and broken.  I refuse to walk away because I do want to be with you as long as you’ll have me.

Scary, huh?

Ok, I realize that quote from Jenna contains the dreaded M-word. Let’s pretend it doesn’t. I think you understand that what I mean is that if it leads to something awesome such as that, then good. If for some reason we would run our course w/out that, then ok.  I guarantee that I am not picking out the china pattern or trying on dresses.  (That’s only after months and months of dieting which would begin the moment I get the ring).

Ok, so basically what am I saying? That I love you.  And even after the move all I do is think about you and how happy you make me. Corny, yes but honest to God truth.

Worried? Me?!

I blame fear of the unknown for the insanely stupid conversation I had with James last week that involved the phrase “take a break.” 

I’m fine!  We’re fine!

Not even moving can kick us in the pants. Short phone calls at night (especially when unexpected) are the best. I love being happy and I love being happy with him. I also love having plans very far in advance like parties and my first trip down the apartment.

Oh please, we’re awesome.

Save Me From Myself

Last month my period was 22 days late.

March was an extremely stressful month, which sounds impossible since I was celebrating my birthday and my anniversary.  However, it was.  I had alot of stuff going on financially in my personal life and a lot of things going on in my professional life.  I was eating plenty and not sleeping nearly enough.

Towards the end of the month, my stress excuse was wearing thin.  I would stay up and think about how I had only had sex one time since my last period and how I was itchy from the detergent on the bedsheets and although, I managed to enjoy it it could not be the time when I got pregnant.  I’m into karma and fate, they are two of my nearest and dearest.  Well for that month, they were in high gear. I said outloud, if only to myself, that I would want to remember the sex that caused a pregnancy.  That was prior to my lateness.  Then the commercials on TV were covered with pregnant women and babies.  Celebrities were popping kids left and right.  The thought was everywhere I turned.

At night it consumed my dreams and my thoughts.

I even tried to will myself to de-stress and allow for the period to come.  I begged, I pleaded and I prayed with God (oh how Judy Blume I am).  Nothing happened.  I knew I had a gyno visit at the end of March and that if it (or symptoms of it) hadn’t shown up I could always ask to pee in a cup.

And then – on the day of James and my one year anniversary I got angry.  I got very angry and very depressed.  I cried for hours.  The PMDD had arrived! Hallelujiah!  Granted, it ruined the anniversary because I was an angry, weepy mess but still.  It meant that the period was on its way.  I was not pregnant.

On the day of my appointment I got a very shocked look from the nurse when I gave her the last date of menstruation.  But my good old Doc told me that stress can cause a period to disapear for more than just one month – three was the max!  After that conversation we discussed the PMDD.  Although we never really mentioned it by name.  He was going to give me some water pills to take when I feel angry, weepy and watery.  But then I mentioned that I want to return to the world of female contraceptive.  He then prescribed for me Yasmin.

I’m currently in my second week of pills (had to make it through one period, ya know) and I am in love with them.  It’s a lower dose hormone so it doesn’t make me feel insane.  And thankfully it takes care of PMDD symptoms towards the end of the month.  I (obviously) haven’t been there just yet so let’s hope it works. It’s not fun to tell my boyfriend not to talk to me for fear of saying something completely off-key.

I got in trouble after my appointment of course.  I didn’t mention to James about my lateness, at least not to the extent of 22 days, and he got mad.  I mean, I honestly understand where he is coming from and why he would be concerned about me having a baby but I’m taking the steps to prevent that.  However, before when it was a toss up between that and stress I was fully prepared to take care of the situation alone if I had to. I’m a big girl, if I’d get into a situation like that I’d face it.

Anyway, i’m not in that situation so all is well.  The pills are awesome and I have my phone set as an alarm so I remember to take them.  The best part of the process – the pills have killed my appetite! I really hope this helps motivate me to work out because I am tanking out.  Not cool!  I can’t have a hot, sexy boyfriend and then be some boring fat chick. No thank you!  I gotta try and keep up here. (To be fair he has never ever ever said anything about my weight, this all personal reflection)

I can’t wait to see what happens next week with the PMDD and the Yasmin. Everyone cross your fingers!

I Told You, I Was Trouble…

James moved to Conshohocken on Sunday. 

On Saturday he spent the day packing up his stuff.  I spent the day doing a whole lotta nothing.  My stomach was fine.  I was not emotional. It was just another Saturday.  Then at 8, when he called to tell me to come over, I started to cry. Alot.  I kept pushing the phone away so he wouldn’t hear me.  He thought I had dropped the call.  I cried and I cried while I got dressed to go meet him.  I cried and I cried as I brushed my teeth.  Then I cried and I cried as I drove through Coplay and Catasauqua.  But I stopped crying as I parked my car and I did not cry when he opened the door wearing the Dunder Mifflin t-shirt I bought him for Christmas.

We had a super night.  We almost went to the movies, but nothing good was playing.  So we went to Sheetz (after a few mis-turns) and came back and watched the Director’s Cut of Mallrats.  We hung out through SNL and the Apollo.  And soon it got late and he needed to go to sleep.  And yes, I cried and I cried.  I lasted for about 15 minutes.  Then I stopped again and headed out into the rain.  We said goodnight outside of my car, exchanged I love you’s and promised eachother that we would be ok.  Then I left to go home.

When I got home I did not cry.  I simply went to sleep.

My emotions are completely out of whack.  I feel like Carrie when she would just start tearing up everytime someone mentioned Mr. Big’s bypass surgery.  I’m a weirdo with a crying problem!

Conshohocken is not far from where I live.  At the most, it’s 45-50 minutes away.  It’s three exits on the Turnpike. It’s five minutes from IKEA.  It’s not like he can NEVER come up here to Catty.  It’s no big deal.

However, part of me thinks it is a big deal.  Part of me thinks that due to my big mouth (and wacky emotions) I made it into a big deal.

Two weekends ago, I was convinced that I wanted to take a break.  That was Friday night.  By Monday, when we discussed it, I was not interested in taking a break.  However, I had planted a seed and I regret that.  I have this problem, although hardly a real problem, but when I get started and I’m talking to him the truth comes out. 

But I think my main reason for bringing that all up was because I wanted to feel wanted.  Now I’m not talking about the scene from the Break-Up where she wants him to want to do the dishes.  I just wanted to wanted by him.  I wanted him to worry about me.  Of course with the stress of work and the move, there was little emotion left for me.  And yea, I’m jealous of that.  But I want to be wanted, damnit.

Two nights before he left to Alabama I got text messages.  He wanted me. He needed me.  I have saved them because they mean so much to me.  They are special.  That emotion was what I was hoping to get prior to the move.

As for today, it’s Day 2.  He’s off from work and unpacking at the apartment.  I didn’t get any e-mails from him because well, he’s not at work.  He said he’s going to call me after work today and I am honestly super excited for that.  I can’t wait to hear his voice.

When he was living 10-15 minutes away from me, we saw eachother two days out of the week.  We talked through e-mail and IM each day and life was grand.  That’s not really changing now that he has moved.  At most, I’ll see him two days (counting when I stay over) and we will continue to talk each day maybe now just e-mail and telephone.

So, why am I worried?  He’s the most trustworthy guy I’ve ever known.  His deepest darkest secret remains that he smokes cigarettes when not around me.  He’s never cheated on me.  So what is my issue?

I guess I just wish all this newness would go away and him and I could settle into our routine down there.  Of course, I plan to move out of my house, too but not as far as Conshohocken.  And then we can split the time between the two places, something I never ever considered before.  But yea, um. I really can’t wait to see the apartment.  To sleep in his bed and to make him breakfast in his kitchen.  I worry about boundaries and I don’t want to be a nuissance to him when I’m there or well, to his roommate.  I just want to fit in comfortably and not bother anyone.

I Take It Back

I’m not going to leave this blog, as I originally planned.

I need a place to write. A place that is not MySpace.com.  A place that only a couple people know about.  A place that when stumbled upon will surprise a reader.

This is that place.