Adrenaline is weird.

Because only adrenaline could keep me from not noticing this

until AFTER I sat down to take my shoes off after my walk.  It's pretty terrifying to look down and have the impression that you were stabbed in the foot.  I really don't know how I didn't notice this at all during the walk because I spend a lot of time looking at the ground.

Turns out, I've been walking so much lately that I straight up removed entire chunks of skin off my last two toes tonight.

Pretty, huh?  Who knew such small abrasions could bring so much blood?  You can't see most of it from that angle, but trust me, it's there.  And of course, I didn't actually feel pain until I looked at it.  No wonder that NFL player who got his finger amputated in the middle of a game didn't realize it until after he took his glove off.  Not that I'm comparing this to getting a finger torn off, but you know what I mean.

So yeah, it looks like I have to take a few days off to let this heal.  It's currently covered in ointment and bandaged up.  Mom says she's going to try to come up with some way for me to get my heart rate up but still let my foot rest so I don't break this streak I'm on.  We'll see how that goes.

The walk was good, though.  I tried jogging for the first time.  I probably only jogged like a quarter of a mile total, but still I tried it.  It was the most unnatural feeling, and it totally screwed up my breathing for the rest of the time.  I think I need to stick with walking for a while longer.  But look at this.

I can do four full miles now!  That was my big goal.  Pretty crazy to think that I started out at 1.11 miles just eleven days ago.

And since I started out on such a gross note with all the blood talk, I'll end with a pretty picture of the sunset.

Being outside and getting to see all the pretty makes me smile even while my body hurts. :)

More Than Conquerors

In many facets of my life, people often ask me how I do what I do.  And I get it; my very existence defies the odds, so it's pretty understandable to be shocked that I seem so "normal" in the day-to-day.  My response is always the same two-part answer.  One: I remember that none of this is actually about me, and I serve an amazing God that I do my best to live for every single day who pulls me through things I never could have imagined.  Two: I have the most incredible friends, friends who walk with me, pray with me, pray for me, encourage me, and push me to do things I never believed I was capable of,  who refuse to let me give up on the days when I seriously want to, simply because they always saw strength and good in me when I'm too caught up in my failures and shortcomings.  This has been dissected many times in the pages of this blog.

What I didn't expect is how much of a gift this would be when I started this journey in exercising.  Ya know, considering, none of these friends are even within driving distance right now.  Yes, their texts of encouragement have been so sweet and felt so good, but that's not always enough motivation to get me up and moving.  And as stupid as it sounds, I didn't really think God would care about how many days a week I walk, or a milestone I reach.  I figured it's not really a big deal to anyone but me.

So what's the problem if I didn't go out and walk today?  My body was wrecked with pain for most of the day.  I didn't know if I'd ever be able to get out of bed, which was frankly my only priority until about 5:00 pm when it actually happened.  At first, I wasn't going to walk today, but then I remembered...I remembered how frustrated I felt on Tuesday when I slept all day because of the pain and was forced to take another day off.  I didn't want to feel that frustration again.  So I put on my shoes, grabbed my earphones and phone, and left.

After hitting 3.14 miles yesterday, my new goal was to make three full laps around the neighborhood, but I didn't even make it down the first stretch of road before I wanted to turn back.

This hurts so bad.  I'll never make it through three laps today.

I just want to go back to bed.

Why is this crawling by so much worse than before?

If I make it through one lap, it'll be good enough.

I thought I was moving so much more slowly than I did yesterday.  I thought my speed was going to be embarrassing when I sent the screenshot of my walk to my friends who are keeping me accountable.  I thought I was just going to have to tell them that the pain was keeping me from moving as well as I normally would.  I felt like an idiot.  Who was I to think I could do this?  I'm fat for a reason.  Because moving is hard.  My body is fragile.  I'm still not well.  I'm setting myself up for disappointment.

About the time I reached the last cul-de-sac in the first lap, I thought about my friend JD and a blog post she wrote a few years ago titled "Run By Faith".  She had to take her body back after an unexplained sickness left her constantly fatigued and ill for months on end.  In that post she writes about one night when she felt too awful to go out and run (and she's one of the most stubborn people I've ever known, so if she was willing to give up for the night, it was BAD), and when she called her best friend/accountability person, they responded "Now that you're sick again, how will you respond, and what will you choose to believe?"  And I knew that while the pain was out of my control, whether or not I let it defeat me tonight was all on me.

And then I remembered how she said she listened to worship music on her runs.  Up until then, I had been listening to my playlist of songs from the TV show Nashville, because it's just really good music.  And because I'd been listening to the same playlist every time, I kept judging how fast I was doing depending on what song I was on when I got to a certain point each night.  So I was getting all up in my own head, beating myself up if I thought I wasn't doing well enough, moving fast enough.  I decided to see what praise music would do.  I turned on the first band I thought of, MercyMe.  I only have a few songs from them, but the first two were exactly what I needed.

"Beautiful": "You're beautiful, you're beautiful, you are made for so much more than all of this.  You're beautiful, you're beautiful, you are treasured, you are sacred, you are His."  I am the Lord's.  And more importantly, He is for me.  He wants me to be healthy and well and full of life.  But He also sees me as beautiful and treasured just as I am.

"Bring the Rain": "I am Yours regardless of the clouds that may loom above because You are much greater than my pain."  GOD IS GREATER THAN MY PAIN.  I heard that line, and that was the first time I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could make it through the three laps, even if I had to crawl my way to the end.

Somewhere around the halfway point of the second lap (I'm a terrible judge of distance), things started cramping up badly, and the negative thoughts came barreling against my mind.

Ugh, I still have a lap and a half to go.  This is taking forever.

My speed average will be shot.

What if I do two laps?  Two laps is still good.

God, why am I doing this to myself?

I can't even go two miles without wanting to quit.  No wonder I'm fat.  I'm so pathetic.

Then as I turned the corner into the third cul-de-sac, I looked up.  I'd been staring at the ground for some time, using every ounce of strength I had to will my legs to just...keep...moving.  But there at the end of the stretch of road was JD.  I saw her clapping her hands, calling to me like you call to a toddler you're trying to get to wobble its way over to you, and I couldn't help but smile.  And suddenly, the pain in my left calf wasn't so distracting anymore.

I went around the circle and looked up again...and there was Ryann.  Giving the same stubborn, stomp her foot, "you're wrong and I'm going to prove it to you", frustrated only because she loves me look that I've seen countless times in so many different situations.  She's always known that I'm capable of so much more than I believe I am.

Every stretch of road, there was another friend.  Summer.  My cousin Brianna.  Jay from England.  Emma.  Nicole.  Ricky.  I saw them holding up posters like spectators do for people at races.

I didn't even realize I'd made it to the third lap until I was several houses past it.  When I realized it, though, yeah, then I knew I'd make it through three laps even if I collapsed on the porch in exhaustion when I was done.

I thought of another song JD sent me a while back as I rounded the stretch of road at the beginning of the neighborhood, by far the longest stretch of road - "All You've Ever Wanted" by Casting Crowns.  I hadn't listened to it in a while, so I decided to turn it on.  This is the beginning of the second verse.

I was chasing healing when I'd been made well, I was fighting battles when You conquered hell, living free but from a prison cell.  Lord, I lay it down today.

How easily I had forgotten that this whole exercise thing wasn't actually all that much about me, either.  It was about showing the enemy that he didn't get to win me.  That this pain didn't get to control my life anymore.  That God, and His plan for my life, would come out on top because Jesus conquered all the brokenness of this world, chronic pain included, a long time ago.  I am already well.

I kept telling myself that over and over again, along with imagining friends standing at the end of each stretch of road, and I stopped thinking almost entirely about how badly my body hurt.  As I passed my house on the way to the third cul-de-sac, I thought, "Oh yeah, I'm coming for ya."  Before I knew it, the third cul-de-sac was done.

And then, the fourth.

And then I made it to the last one.  My house was in sight.  I smiled.

And as I walked back up my driveway, I sort of wanted to laugh.  Three laps seemed impossible when I started.  I lost track of how many times I considered giving up.  But there I was.  And I didn't care what my speed was, I was going to celebrate that the pain did not win.  I met my goal.

Here's how tonight turned out...

I saw the 3.93 miles and I cheered.  I saw the 2.92 mph and straight up LAUGHED.  That is my second fastest speed since I started this last week.  Yet I thought I was going slowly.

Oh and also?  An hour and 20 minutes is how long it took for JD to complete 6.2 km, or about 3.85 miles, when she started out...she's my main accountability and a big source of inspiration, and our numbers are pretty much identical.  I know that says 1:21, but that's because it gets rounded on this screen; in my history it says 1:20:42.  I felt like that was an extra gift just for me.

You know what verse has been in my head all night since I got back inside?  Romans 8:37 "No, in all these things, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us."

My butt hurts.

That's probably way more information than you wanted to know about me today, but I bet you wanna know why my butt hurts.

Because, as it turns out, when you do this,

things tend to cramp up just a tad!

Holy crap, y'all. 3.14 miles is a 5K!  A FIVE FREAKING K.  And this is only the 7th time I've done this.

I was actually averaging about 3.1 mph for the first 2.2 miles or so, which is the best I've ever done, but then things started cramping up really badly, so it damaged my speed a bit.  But still, I walked a 5k!  Hopefully when it's not that time of the month, my abdomen and lower back will be looser and thus won't cramp up so badly and I can get the time down.

Yay me!

Back To It

Well, I learned another valuable lesson in this whole exercise saga today.  That lesson is that walking at 7 pm after a rain is seriously more difficult than walking at 2:30 pm in the sunshine.  Holy humidity, Batman!  I was absolutely drenched when I got back inside.

So today wasn't nearly as good as Monday, not as long or as quick, but I'm happy with it because it was miserable out there.  And hey, I burned just as many calories!

The bad days with my pain make me that much more grateful for the manageably good days.

Frustrated with myself.

Was supposed to walk today.

Was supposed to do financial aid stuff today.

Couldn't even open my eyes until after 8 pm.

I didn't want to take another day off but my body will not cooperate.

So aggravating.

Praying this surgery on the 23rd on my eyes will fix my headaches, too.

NAILED IT!

Today was a tense day for Mom and me.  We were both coming off that party high and the exhaustion of the past two weeks of preparation totally hit us, plus we were not on the best of terms because of all the stuff that went down last night, and we had to watch Blake today and he wouldn't take a nap, so there were just six million things piling up on us.

So needless to say, by this evening, I seriously needed to blow off some steam and get away for a little bit.  Since punching something and running away were out of options, I went for a walk.  I was frustrated with myself that I took two days off this past week, but that's life, and since I was so close to two miles on Saturday, I wanted to get myself there today, just so I could feel like I ended the week of exercise on a high note.

Well, I guess it was probably a combination of it being sunset plus me being so tense and upset that the walk went by really easily time-wise.  I wanted to hit two miles.  This is what happened.

TWO POINT FIVE! I took that goal and stomped on it.

The rest of the night was tense but somewhat healing, but I am emotionally spent now (lots of tears led me to an asthma attack, yay) sooooo.....good night.

Here's to seeing what milestones I can hit in the next seven days!

The day I'd been waiting for.

PARTY DAY!

Surprising, Mom let me sleep in until about 8:45 before I got up, ate real quick, and we all (us, Holly and Michael) dove headfirst into Mom's party panic mode.  We cleaned and cooked and organized and decorated and I cleaned some more (because nothing is ever clean enough in panic mode) and we finished just as the first guests showed up about 12:40.

From then on it was a whirlwind of amazing food, hostess duties, more food, talking, pictures, more food, laughter and more food.  Not as many people showed up as I had hoped or expected, none of my CU people could come which was depressing, but it all worked out fine (and I still got a hefty gift pile!).

You know me and pictures.  I got a picture with every party guest except for two couples from church who left pretty quickly and my mom's friend from New Bern who stayed the night.

We were down to the "bare essentials party people" (as my mom called it) by 6:00.  We sat on the back deck until midnight talking.  And arguing.  There can't be any day in my family without drama.  But alcohol will do that to anyone, especially this weird freakin' family.  I won't go into the details here because we all screwed up, including me.

I'm glad the day finally got here.  The real end of the era.

Saturday

Today I did a lot of laundry.

My party is tomorrow, as you well know.

I also managed to eek in a walk.

My distance is creeping up every day!  Yay.

I went to Brianna's next playoff game tonight.  The idiot refs handed the game to the other team.  Seriously some of the worst officiating I have ever seen.

Holly and Michael got in late tonight because they had car trouble.  I'm so happy they came down just for my party.  I love them.

They had a bartending competition to see whose drink I would like better.  Michael won.

And now I'm going to sleep because tomorrow is my party and all sorts of people are coming!  I'm so excited!!!

Accidental Day Off

I wasn't intending to take today off from walking.

I slept in because my migraine was so bad that I really couldn't help it.  Then, Mom and I spent 5 hours in Jacksonville buying all the food and other supplies necessary for Sunday.  We got back at like 6:00, and then I spent over an hour unloading it all.

By that point, my legs were so weak and tired that they were just dragging, so there was no way I could turn right around and go out and walk.  I planned to rest up for a bit and then go out...except then thunderstorms rolled in.

So yeah.  I didn't mean to not walk today.  But it happened.  And I was still active walking all over two giant shopping centers and then going up and down the porch and into the house 30+ times to unload it.  I'm okay with it.  My calves and ankles have been burning since my walk yesterday, so I think my legs needed the rest.  I'd rather take a day off now and then than push myself to the break and risk injury that would keep me out for who knows how long.

Besides, I know I'll be back at it tomorrow.

For now, I rest.

Push through it.

It's amazing how I've only been doing this for three days now, and I'm already learning things.

Like how I'm even more stubborn than I realized.

And the value of having a support system around me who's passionate about exercise and health who will push and encourage me.

But mostly, how I have the ability to push through things, and the importance of that ability.

Truth be told, I really didn't want to go walk today.  My migraine was awful all day today, and I had Botox this morning which means I was in added pain, and then I got an upset stomach right before I was planning to go, so I was just all sorts of ughhhhhhh.  But I mentioned to my friend JD that I was going to go I just wasn't in the mood for it and wasn't sure how far I'd get, and she told me to go ahead and get out and go as far as I could, and said that I wouldn't regret doing it.

I told her I was going to go easy on myself today and tomorrow, because the Botox usually has me feeling awful for about 36 hours afterward, and just try to make it a mile.  She said something is better than nothing.

Well, this was today's results.

A smidge further than yesterday, and :44 off the time.  That's not too shabby, if you ask me, considering how I feel today. :)  I also learned that walking in the evening will be way better for me whenever it is possible, because the trees offer some shaded areas along my path.

JD was right.  I was really glad I got out and did it anyway.  And a friend of mine who's done so well in her weight loss/strength journey so she knows what she's saying said that my body will learn the most from days like this.  It was definitely harder than the past two days, but it was really good.

Oh, and tied into this, at the doctor, I learned that I've lost 13 pounds since I was at my last Botox appointment in early February.  And that's without doing any exercise and being super stressed out during school and all that.  I know it's not much, but it was a pretty cool surprise.

And totally unrelated to the exercise, when I told my doctor that I'm moving to NYC in August, he told me he could write me a referral to a pretty famous headache center in the Bronx at my last appointment right before I leave.  So if this vision surgery doesn't fix the headaches (there's a chance it could, we won't know until it happens), I will still be able to get care once I leave.  So yay for that.

Day two. I'm not complaining.

Today, I woke up at 7:30.

I scrubbed a bathroom. Walls and all.

And then I went out for another walk. I walked the exact same path that I did yesterday, and somehow added .67 miles. Went from 1.11 to 1.78. I guess I walked closer to the edge of each cul-de-sac or something?  I don't know, but I'm certainly not complaining.

After that, I relaxed and watched a lot of Dancing with the Stars videos (yay Meryl and Maks won!!) until I had to take a shower. Mommom picked me up just after 1:00, and we headed to the middle of nowhere a few hours away.

Brianna's team was in the third round of the playoffs up here, so we made an overnight trip of it because I have to go to Durham tomorrow morning. They won! 3-0. It was a great game against a team that played dirty (at least in my opinion) and was ranked above them. So it was a sweet win. Round 4 is this weekend. I may or may not be able to go depending on if it's at home (which it should be because they're ranked above the team they will play) because of the party being on Sunday and all the prep we have to do for that.

And now I'm going to pray I can get to sleep in this hotel room because my grandma has to sleep with the TV on.

The First Step

Well, I got out and did it.

There's nothing impressive about the numbers, but I did it.

And it felt good.

It was HARD, but it felt good.

I'm so thankful for the friends who have offered so much encouragement.

I'm gonna do it in the morning, too, before my grandma and I head out tomorrow afternoon.

This is a start.  It is only gonna get better and I'm only gonna get stronger from here.

I don't really have much else to say today, I've had a terrible migraine, so here's a picture of Gretchen and Heidi that made me smile.

They had their own smaller kennels, and this was Charlie's kennel, but they always slept together anyway.  Then when Charlie got really sick, Gretchen started sleeping with him.  So when we lost him, Mom moved the two smaller kennels out and gave them the big one (after cleaning it out very well).  I walked in to get food earlier today and found them like that.  It's so sweet.

Everything hurts.

Well, walking didn't happen today.

It didn't happen because I woke up and every muscle in my body feels like it has a bruise on it.

That much hardcore scrubbing put a major hit on me.

I figure, when I have a hard time getting around my house, trying to go out for a walk probably isn't the best idea.

I decided to give myself a day to rest, and not beat myself up about it.

On to tomorrow.

There once was a man named Pickle.

No really, there was.  He came and power-washed our house today.

My mom went to high school with him.  Apparently, when he was in like first grade, he and a bunch of boys decided to come up with nicknames for themselves, and since another boy claimed Cucumber, Pickle picked Pickle.  And it stuck.  Even teachers called him Pickle.  He's 54 years old and STILL CALLED PICKLE.  And he's an absolute riot.

So yeah, my mom got in touch with him and he came to power-wash our house today.  Except he didn't just power-wash the house.  He also power-washed the deck furniture, the porch furniture, all our trash cans (even the ones in the house), the driveway, the mailbox, the brick things at the end of our driveway, Mom's car, and a glider we had sitting outside that we were planning on getting rid of that is so clean now we put it on our front porch.  And then he went over the house a second time.  No, I'm not kidding.

The man worked for almost eight solid hours, didn't eat, didn't take a drink of water, didn't go to the bathroom, nothing.  I do believe Mom has found her a new regular power-washer.

I scrubbed doors, walls, baseboards, and trim for seven hours.  It took an entire box of Clorox wipes and four magic erasers.  My mom did...all sorts of things.  The upside is the living room, dining room, hallway, and laundry room are SPARKLING.  The bad news is I still don't have a bed and every part of my body aches even after I laid down for 3 solid hours.

Tomorrow I get to scrub a cabinet.  I should get to see Matt, though, which is always a plus.

And now I'm going to watch another episode of Chicago Fire and then sleep.

Taking Back Me

What do you get when you have a mentally ill slob of a 20 year old girl who completely refuses to wipe up anything she spills or clean any mess she makes who moves into a house, stays there for 5 years, and leaves with a rambunctious 4 year old she doesn't properly watch who has, subsequently, also been destroying the house since he was old enough to move?

The answer: My mom and me scrubbing walls, upholstery, floors, baseboards, and basically everything in sight to remove stains, some of which we can't for the life of us figure out how they got there.  Like how I was cleaning crap off the walls a good two feet above Chelsea's height (and we also say she has T-rex arms so it's not like there was any human way for her to reach there).  I just don't get it.  And it's disgusting.

But it's all going to be worth it.  Because at the end of this, not only will we have a clean house and actually want to be somewhere other than Mom's room or the kitchen, I will actually have my own bed and room for the summer.  AND in 8 days, our house will be filled with family, town folks, and friends I love (and I do mean filled, this is by far the biggest crowd we've invited to a party) to celebrate my graduation, and Mom and I both want this lovely house to look as nice as possible.

It's just too bad my body is so...frustrating?  Sure, we'll go with that.  Mom had to go to her school's prom tonight, and I couldn't do nearly as much as I needed to do to help out today while she was here or tonight while she was gone.  But she knows I can't afford to hurt myself, and that that's more important.  Besides, there are some things I can do while she's at work this week.  It's just...yeah, frustrating.  I want to be able to do more of the work without my muscles screaming at me and my legs shutting down and going totally weak from the nerve damage that makes them do that when they're tired.

This summer, I'm going to work on building up my physical stamina.  Yes, I want to lose weight, but with moving to New York, my main concern is being able to last.  Weight loss will come with the increase in stamina (I hope, it won't be so easy for me as it is for others because no thyroid makes your metabolism come to basically a complete halt).  Once Mom gets out of school, we're going to start going to the gym, but for now, walking will have to do.  Hey, it's a start, right?  It's long past time I took my body back.  After spending 5 years in bed and the next 4 in survival mode and barely scraping by, it's going to be hell, but I'm ready for something different.  And as my friend Emma, who has been so sweet in encouraging me and making me feel loved just as I am but also giving me tips on how to help my body, told me, that's the first step, but it's also a huge step.

That's something different in my life the past couple years, you know?  Being absolutely surrounded by people who love me for me and couldn't care less what I look like, but who also are so faithful at reminding me that I can be better.  It's a reflection of God to me, and how He takes me as my messy self but has only ever wanted to clean me up and save me from my mistakes.  These people point me back to that kind of unconditional but fiercely loyal love without tiring of me.  And that kind of love makes me want more for myself.  It makes me want to be better.  I'm finally beginning to see myself the way they have seen me this whole time.

That's why, come Monday, May 19, I'm starting on a journey of taking my body back.

Realization of the day: I am old.

That probably isn't much of a shocker to you.

And it really isn't to me, considering I've had the body of an 80 year old since I was 16.

But I went back to my old high school today, because Bri's team is in the playoffs for her conference and they had another game.  And WHOA.  It hit me.  I am really old.

I mean, I've been back to my high school a couple times since I graduated, but not in at least 3 years, and not to that field.  And when I heard the lady taking money at admissions tell a girl that she was practically "a big sophomore" now that the year is almost over, I just sort of smirked to myself because I look at a sophomore in high school and I'm just like "you cute little baby!"  Ha.

In other news, they won 4-1.  In spite of some terrible refs.  And Bri made a great goal.  So yay all around for that.

Tired of Pretending

Well, because I'm trying to change my attitude, at least in baby steps, I figured I might as well start off with the good news.  Good news is problem number 1 (the one that was in my mother's control) is fixed.  I don't know how, but I don't really care about the details because it was a very long night last night so all that really matters to me is that it is fixed and I am no longer miserable because of it.  Also good news is that problem number 2 (the one that was out of my mother's control) might be able to be fixed, but if it is fixable, it will be a very long limbo period before then...but hey, at least there's hope.  So yay for both of those things.

Unfortunately, that doesn't mean today has been a good one, though.  It's really not a good sign that I've only been home two weeks before realizing that I absolutely cannot wait to get out of this house, move to New York, and never look back.  My mother forced me to sleep on the couch last night because there's no other bed in the house still (which is also her fault), and I've been in even worse physical pain than I usually am because of it.  Not only have I not so much gotten an apology from her for being so awful to me last night (and pretty much all day today), she has yelled at me simply for wincing because walking hurts.  I haven't mentioned my pain until she's asked me things like why I'm wincing.  And then she yells at me for complaining all the time.

I am so tired of this.  I'm tired of not being able to tell my mom the way she makes me feel, because she'll either tell me to stop being a dramatic little brat and get over myself or start screaming at me about how I don't love or appreciate her enough and shut me out.  I'm tired of being the receptacle for her stress and anger and fear and frustration simply because she knows I'm always here and I'll always put up with it.  I'm tired of pretending like everything's fine when it's not, like she didn't hurt my feelings and me physically last night because of her stupid pride.  I'm tired of getting yelled at for things that are out of my control, and then be made to look like the bad guy when her boyfriend shows up.

But mostly, I'm tired of being hit day after day with the realization that no matter how valid or real my feelings may be, my mother will never stop seeing me as the same teenage brat that I used to be.  That no matter what I do, or the things I accomplish, I will still be the little kid who isn't capable of handling things the "proper" way (and proper in my mother's world is the way she would do it, and nothing else).  She may never treat me as an adult, or with the same level of respect that she treats Holly, which, I'll be honest, is ridiculous since I had to grow up a hell of a lot faster than either of them did and have, for a vast majority of the time, been able to look at situations and life far more rationally, intellectually, and all-in-all maturely than Holly has up until the last few years.  The only way to keep my mother happy and not yelling at me is to just pretend I am the kid she thinks I am so she can feel validated about being right about me and I can avoid the fights.  I'm tired of the fights.  But I'm also very tired of the pretending.

Please don't tell me some lines about how it's because I'm the baby and all babies get treated like this and that's how it is, because that may be "how it is", but that doesn't make it okay.  And this may have something to do with all the medical crap I've been through in my life and how much time she's had to devote to being my nurse, but that also doesn't make it okay because I've spent years of my life making sure my health problems and disabilities don't define me.  My mother has absolutely no idea who I really am or the way that I want and deserve to be treated, and I have tried every way I can think of to talk to her about it and nothing works.  So basically, I'm stuck in this same cycle of frustration until August comes and I can finally move on to the next stage of my life completely out and on my own, hundreds of miles away from the grasp of everything about this family that has weighed me down for as long as I can remember.

I love my mother, but I really need not to be here anymore.

Pride is called a deadly sin for a reason.

Today has not been a good day.

My mother annoys me to no end with her obsession with pride and appearances.

Well, that's just one of the two things from today.  The other thing is something that is totally out of her control that just sucks and puts our family at risk.

The first thing, though, could have been fixed hours ago if it weren't for her stupid pride and pathetic inability to accept help from ANYONE even when she knows she needs it. And once again, I also have to pay for her stupid choices because she can't just get over herself.  This is the same kind of crap that almost kept me from getting my cap and gown ordered, which only happened because I went behind her back and went to my friend for help.

I'll tell you one thing, though. She better get the heck over herself and take care of this tomorrow because 24 hours is my limit of being physically miserable when there's a way to fix it. I am not afraid to call my grandmother just because my mother is being an idiot.

Even I'm tired of sleeping now.

Yay Prednisone.

I should be past this never-ending coma-like state and on my way to feeling better soon.

And it goes on.

I woke up long enough to go get my second nasal swab and to stop and get more throat lozenges, but other than that, I've been in bed today.

Much longer of this, and methinks it'll be time for me to go get antibiotics.