It's crazy to think that I'm at my one-year anniversary after my White Robe Vision.
For those who don't know what that means... A year ago I was in church singing along to the worship band. I had been struggling with anger, and depression, and aloneness, and everything that you can imagine someone would struggle with after mounds and mounds of trauma. To say that I was in a dark, scary place would be the understatement of a lifetime. I was singing, pleading with the L-rd for a miracle and for forgiveness when I had this image, a vision.
It was me in the fetal position, dressed in sackcloth with ashes and dirt covering me. I was sobbing. My view was as if I was standing watching myself in this dark but not scary space, but I also knew what it was like as the me that was on the floor sobbing. I don't know how I could be both, but I was.
Anyway, Yeshua (Jesus) walked over and helped me up. He handed me a pile of white clothes, a white robe. Instantly, I was dressed in white, holding His hand, and clean from head to toe. I knew in that moment that I was clean, forgiven, redeemed, and precious to the only One that truly matters. The weight that was literally suffocating me was lifted. I felt the physical sensation of being lighter and of being able to breathe. Tears, happy tears, were falling from my eyes and I was at peace for the first time in YEARS.
The high of this vision fueled my healing in counseling, my passion in bible study, and my joy in life. Since I was feeling better, much much better, I started EMDR. I don't know if I just got to the point in my "healing" where my brain started to process the anger and grief, or if it was because I was processing things in EMDR and therapy, but my joy was replaced by anger. Pure rage and grief and the darkest depression I have experienced in such a long time.
Not only was I battling the memories and nightmares that has stopped a short few months before, but I was suddenly from the highest high down in the my darkest pits. Even darker than I had just gotten out of! Suddenly the urges to start smoking again came back. The desire the slice my skin and jump on Tinder resurfaced. My prayers to not wake up in the morning or for me to die in some quick fashion started pouring from my heart again. My pleas for this life to be over or for me to wake up from this nightmare were back. The enormity of the betrayal I faced from ex-best friend hit me full-force. The horrors I survived and lived through hit me like a ton of bricks. My actions, reasons, and reactions all flooded into my memory boggling my mind with the crap that I've been through. Realizations of what my childhood was like, things I had forgotten were dredged up. Past hurts and scars and darkness all covered me at once. Crashing over me like tsunami-sized waves.
Now, after nearly 8 months, these waves are still skyscraper high, but I've sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor where the waves can't effect me so much because my brain has gone blank. I have a vague recollection that bad things have happened. A small understanding that I am hurt and have been damaged mocks me in the early hours when I wake up, or in the moments before I fall asleep. My heart squeezes and heat rises as my brain recalls the nightmares that I just had throughout my sleep were real events that happened. Anger overwhelms me and forces me from bed to try to go find some mind-numbing entertainment from the boob-tube.
I want to believe G-d has good in store. My heart craves the day when my life is redeemed and I maybe see some fruit that the sh!t that I *unfortunately* survived is going to be worth something to someone. Surely there is a reason behind the suffering. Surely there is a way that this can be helpful for something. Surely my life, my experiences, my pain and sorrow will not be a waste!
It's crazy to think that a year ago would start the roller-coaster that has been this past year. To go from so passionate and on fire for the L-rd, to questioning His beneficence towards me. Hope was replaced with rage and ecstatic joy was replaced with soul wrenching despair. My new found zest for life was, again, brought into the deepest of me begging for my life to end.
I'd like to say that my life is back to me being excited and on fire for the L-rd. I wish I could tell you all that life got back to smooth sailing, that I am happy and excited again and that I finished out the year with minimal lasting pain. Well, I could, but that would be a lie. Just when I started to think I was on the mend, my story would be used for goodness and I might be needed in this world after-all, I was knocked down again. Knocked down by someone who was supposed to be a mentor, a leader, a helper in the faith. At that point, the hits kept coming from every side. I confided in her about some recent family wounds and that was used against me, as ammo for the attacks. Ex-best friend joined in the attacks, people from work, patients, family, and anyone else that was in close proximity to me. They ganged up, at the enemies command, and I was bombarded by the tsunami waves that I thought I was avoiding by remaining on the ocean floor. There's no escape though.
Here, looking back on my year, I'm proud of myself for not falling back into self harm, not succumbing to the craving for a cigarette, and for not putting myself back onto Tinder. I fought like hell to still show up, to try to be as present as possible, and to put myself out there for others. I'm working harder than ever to find some good, some purpose, and some meaning in my suffering and loneliness. I am searching for hope and belonging somewhere. But I don't belong here. I don't belong on this earth. I will forever be a stranger, a loner, wandering along on this blue rotating rock. This is not my home. This is not where I will make sense. This is not where the answers will be found, where I am redeemed, or where my purpose lies.
My heart is so tired. My soul is weary. I don't know how much longer I can hold out here.
My anniversary of one of the most powerful gifts the L-rd has every given me is marked by a season of such despair and difficulty that I'm sent back into the pits of existence when I desperately desire to no longer exist. How can this be? It doesn't make sense!
Showing posts with label difficult day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label difficult day. Show all posts
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Monday, April 23, 2018
Ends to New Beginnings
This week was the end of group therapy and my bible study. It's been rough. I've really enjoyed the friendships that have come to be in both groups, the growth that I've shown, and having places to be to get me out of the house. Those few things can really help improve a person's outlook on life and well-being!
I'm fixin' to tell my sweet little counselor that she was right... right about finding community, right about people being out there that are willing to support me, and right about being able to share and not scaring everyone away. She has been such a blessing.
As is normal with the final bits of anything, there is time to remember how far you've come and what has happened. We share thanks for the people that we've met and the things we've learned. There is an exchanging of phone numbers, encouragement, and a "I hope to see you soon" or "email/text me when you get news about..."
And, as G-d tends to do in my life, there is a theme.
It dawned on me partly in the car today, and I began weeping... in traffic... with my dog sniffing out the window and warm spring air blowing in. Then, as I sat down to begin processing all of the things that have happened this week (by typing them here) G-d flat out told me because I wasn't fully getting it.
Then He keeps bringing up more examples as I continue to write!
So here it is: the theme for this week is sex. What it costs, how it's abused, how it's affected me, and how it has shaped the course of history.
You guys know, because I talk about it in most every post, but I have a history of sexual abuse. Not once, not twice, but countless times. And not at the hands of just one, nor two, but at least three guys. It was a realization that hit me hard this week.
In group, we were encouraged to talk abut something on our last day of group that we would regret not saying while we were in group. I couldn't think of anything. And, since my personal counselor is also the leader of the group, she encouraged me again in my personal session and even prompted me on what I could and should consider talking about. I spent all of 2 weeks pondering what it is that I should share, with nothing to say for myself until the day of group. I wrote it down on 3 pages of my journal and walked in.
Group was nearly over when my counselor asked if I had anything to say. I warned them that I was just going to read it, because I needed to say these things but they are hard for me to say (I left out that I often "shut down" *read dissociate* when I begin thinking/talking about these things).
I wept.
I cried as I read.
I couldn't see the pages so I had to lift my journal up in front of my face so that the tears weren't blocking all of the writing.
And I said it. I said the things that I have had such a hard time saying. I spoke the words, "... I have suffered through countless acts of sexual and other abuse. I have never once gotten to choose to have sex or not have sex, these things were forced upon me. I battle daily with my dreams, desires, and my broken sense of the world.
"However, I can see my healing. I have been made clean, and pure, and have been dressed in white. I've seen it!
"Somehow, these evil things will be used for good. I don't know how, but it'll happen."
Of course, I share a little bit more, but those are things that I have had such a hard time being able to say. I couldn't even admit them to myself a couple of months ago and now I've said them out loud.
Then, another girl in our group shared and she cried through her part of sharing. I cried right along with her. It was so difficult to not just reach over and hug her tight! But, knowing how I deal with things, I don't want to be touched when explaining how somebody else has used touch to so seriously damage me. I asked her, when it was all done, if I could hug her and she accepted. My heart breaks that she has experienced the things that she has. I have gone through many of the same things, but it hurts even more hearing that someone else has had to endure that crap.
I told you guys the theme for the week was sex... Well, even in bible study, the video at the end of the study was of the Q&A portion of the conference that the study was based on. Again, for those who have forgotten or who didn't know, I was doing the study Anointed Transformed Redeemed about David. We can't talk about David without talking about Bathsheba, right? But that was such a small part of the study and it was weeks ago!
This week, in the bonus video, it was the filmed portion of the conference that was the Q&A (I already told you guys that). However, this is important because somebody asked something about marriage or how to minister to husbands or something... and Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore (not so much Beth), began this whole thing about sex!
In a room full of married women, at church, this was a time of great amounts of laughter for them! For me, surely the only single girl under the age of 30 who has not had a great relationship with the subject of sex, this was a serious struggle. Kay touched on singleness and the relationship you should have with sex: she said we should not be having it. Well, duh, and I'm not. It was just a moment where being left out converged with a moment of being triggered and disappointed and all of that happened at church.
*deep breaths*
Through several things, I have been convicted of something that I have not come to terms with, and a huge reason why I'm probably having a hard time this week: sex and I do not have a good relationship. I'm not saying that if we did, that I would be partaking before marriage. But it has been used as such a strong force of evil and destruction in my life that I don't look forward to it. I don't hope for it, I don't look forward to my wedding night or to being married. I don't look forward to "making" kids or to birthing them because it is all a reminder of sex.
I learned this week that many victims/survivors have such a bad relationship with sex because of the abuse, that some of the self harm can be in the form of touching themselves. Trying to find pleasure from how the body reacts and the way that their body probably reacted in the face of abuse. One thing I haven't confessed before is that I have struggled with this myself.
After my first assault, rape, weekend of horror, I was convinced that my body was broken. He was touching me, doing these things that he knew would get a response from my body because he had had sex with other girlfriends in the past. Me, having never done any of that before and having not wanted to do it then, did not react. There was no pleasure, no excitement, no enjoyment. So, I concluded that my body was broken and that I was one of the few people that suffer from not being able to find any pleasure from sex and from being touched.
So, I tried to "recreate" the things that should bring about a sensation that people had described as fun, or pleasurable, or even a need. My body kind of reacted, but I was filled with so much shame and despair and sadness.
Even with this misery, it became a compulsion. I wanted to cut. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to feel something.
I didn't cut. I did hurt myself. And the only thing I ever truly felt was hatred, disgust, shame, despair, regret, and ridiculous darkness.
I stopped shortly after attempting this act.
Then came exfiance. After his initial rape, I couldn't get away. There were so many assaults. So much manipulation. So many excuses, bullshit stories, bible verses he used to tell me I belonged to him and that my body was no longer my own. Blah, blah, blah. He introduced me (read *forced me*) to do things I had never imagined. Things that truly revulsed me and I actually begin cutting and self harming and things that made me want to die.
After that, touching myself became a way that I could control things. I got no pleasure from what he did. Sure, my body would react, but I did not like it. So my brain, making its new pathways, associated those reactions with not being a good thing. In fact, it was associated with pain and depression and all terrible things!
By controlling it myself, when he was not with me, I felt like my body wasn't actually broken, like someday it might be okay... aaaaaaannnd it increased my shame and despair ten-fold.
Fast-forward to this week: Things that I did not expect, but that definitely needed to happen, in fact happened. This topic was brought up and somebody that I have admired and loved learning from/with shared about her struggles with this. Then, to her, I whispered "me too."
It was something that needed to happen. That I was terrified of anyone else finding out about. And now, I have to face it. I have to fight this. I have to work through it and learn to deal with these things. Then, I have hope for healing.
I've been studying the ladies of the bible, primarily the Tamar's, Rahab, Bathsheba, and various others (especially those with abuse, sexual misconduct, and those who were broken [all of us]). I'm finding encouragement and hope, but it's also allowing G-d to expose many of my deep, dark secret places. It hurts, but I hope that someday it'll be worth the pain of debriding (I think I spelled that wrong...)
I'm fixin' to tell my sweet little counselor that she was right... right about finding community, right about people being out there that are willing to support me, and right about being able to share and not scaring everyone away. She has been such a blessing.
As is normal with the final bits of anything, there is time to remember how far you've come and what has happened. We share thanks for the people that we've met and the things we've learned. There is an exchanging of phone numbers, encouragement, and a "I hope to see you soon" or "email/text me when you get news about..."
And, as G-d tends to do in my life, there is a theme.
It dawned on me partly in the car today, and I began weeping... in traffic... with my dog sniffing out the window and warm spring air blowing in. Then, as I sat down to begin processing all of the things that have happened this week (by typing them here) G-d flat out told me because I wasn't fully getting it.
Then He keeps bringing up more examples as I continue to write!
So here it is: the theme for this week is sex. What it costs, how it's abused, how it's affected me, and how it has shaped the course of history.
You guys know, because I talk about it in most every post, but I have a history of sexual abuse. Not once, not twice, but countless times. And not at the hands of just one, nor two, but at least three guys. It was a realization that hit me hard this week.
In group, we were encouraged to talk abut something on our last day of group that we would regret not saying while we were in group. I couldn't think of anything. And, since my personal counselor is also the leader of the group, she encouraged me again in my personal session and even prompted me on what I could and should consider talking about. I spent all of 2 weeks pondering what it is that I should share, with nothing to say for myself until the day of group. I wrote it down on 3 pages of my journal and walked in.
Group was nearly over when my counselor asked if I had anything to say. I warned them that I was just going to read it, because I needed to say these things but they are hard for me to say (I left out that I often "shut down" *read dissociate* when I begin thinking/talking about these things).
I wept.
I cried as I read.
I couldn't see the pages so I had to lift my journal up in front of my face so that the tears weren't blocking all of the writing.
And I said it. I said the things that I have had such a hard time saying. I spoke the words, "... I have suffered through countless acts of sexual and other abuse. I have never once gotten to choose to have sex or not have sex, these things were forced upon me. I battle daily with my dreams, desires, and my broken sense of the world.
"However, I can see my healing. I have been made clean, and pure, and have been dressed in white. I've seen it!
"Somehow, these evil things will be used for good. I don't know how, but it'll happen."
Of course, I share a little bit more, but those are things that I have had such a hard time being able to say. I couldn't even admit them to myself a couple of months ago and now I've said them out loud.
Then, another girl in our group shared and she cried through her part of sharing. I cried right along with her. It was so difficult to not just reach over and hug her tight! But, knowing how I deal with things, I don't want to be touched when explaining how somebody else has used touch to so seriously damage me. I asked her, when it was all done, if I could hug her and she accepted. My heart breaks that she has experienced the things that she has. I have gone through many of the same things, but it hurts even more hearing that someone else has had to endure that crap.
I told you guys the theme for the week was sex... Well, even in bible study, the video at the end of the study was of the Q&A portion of the conference that the study was based on. Again, for those who have forgotten or who didn't know, I was doing the study Anointed Transformed Redeemed about David. We can't talk about David without talking about Bathsheba, right? But that was such a small part of the study and it was weeks ago!
This week, in the bonus video, it was the filmed portion of the conference that was the Q&A (I already told you guys that). However, this is important because somebody asked something about marriage or how to minister to husbands or something... and Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore (not so much Beth), began this whole thing about sex!
In a room full of married women, at church, this was a time of great amounts of laughter for them! For me, surely the only single girl under the age of 30 who has not had a great relationship with the subject of sex, this was a serious struggle. Kay touched on singleness and the relationship you should have with sex: she said we should not be having it. Well, duh, and I'm not. It was just a moment where being left out converged with a moment of being triggered and disappointed and all of that happened at church.
*deep breaths*
Through several things, I have been convicted of something that I have not come to terms with, and a huge reason why I'm probably having a hard time this week: sex and I do not have a good relationship. I'm not saying that if we did, that I would be partaking before marriage. But it has been used as such a strong force of evil and destruction in my life that I don't look forward to it. I don't hope for it, I don't look forward to my wedding night or to being married. I don't look forward to "making" kids or to birthing them because it is all a reminder of sex.
I learned this week that many victims/survivors have such a bad relationship with sex because of the abuse, that some of the self harm can be in the form of touching themselves. Trying to find pleasure from how the body reacts and the way that their body probably reacted in the face of abuse. One thing I haven't confessed before is that I have struggled with this myself.
After my first assault, rape, weekend of horror, I was convinced that my body was broken. He was touching me, doing these things that he knew would get a response from my body because he had had sex with other girlfriends in the past. Me, having never done any of that before and having not wanted to do it then, did not react. There was no pleasure, no excitement, no enjoyment. So, I concluded that my body was broken and that I was one of the few people that suffer from not being able to find any pleasure from sex and from being touched.
So, I tried to "recreate" the things that should bring about a sensation that people had described as fun, or pleasurable, or even a need. My body kind of reacted, but I was filled with so much shame and despair and sadness.
Even with this misery, it became a compulsion. I wanted to cut. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted to feel something.
I didn't cut. I did hurt myself. And the only thing I ever truly felt was hatred, disgust, shame, despair, regret, and ridiculous darkness.
I stopped shortly after attempting this act.
Then came exfiance. After his initial rape, I couldn't get away. There were so many assaults. So much manipulation. So many excuses, bullshit stories, bible verses he used to tell me I belonged to him and that my body was no longer my own. Blah, blah, blah. He introduced me (read *forced me*) to do things I had never imagined. Things that truly revulsed me and I actually begin cutting and self harming and things that made me want to die.
After that, touching myself became a way that I could control things. I got no pleasure from what he did. Sure, my body would react, but I did not like it. So my brain, making its new pathways, associated those reactions with not being a good thing. In fact, it was associated with pain and depression and all terrible things!
By controlling it myself, when he was not with me, I felt like my body wasn't actually broken, like someday it might be okay... aaaaaaannnd it increased my shame and despair ten-fold.
Fast-forward to this week: Things that I did not expect, but that definitely needed to happen, in fact happened. This topic was brought up and somebody that I have admired and loved learning from/with shared about her struggles with this. Then, to her, I whispered "me too."
It was something that needed to happen. That I was terrified of anyone else finding out about. And now, I have to face it. I have to fight this. I have to work through it and learn to deal with these things. Then, I have hope for healing.
I've been studying the ladies of the bible, primarily the Tamar's, Rahab, Bathsheba, and various others (especially those with abuse, sexual misconduct, and those who were broken [all of us]). I'm finding encouragement and hope, but it's also allowing G-d to expose many of my deep, dark secret places. It hurts, but I hope that someday it'll be worth the pain of debriding (I think I spelled that wrong...)
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Daily Challenge
I crashed out last night after coming home from clinicals. I was exhausted!
So, I was unable to talk about yesterday's bunch of stuff and tell you my funny story.
Counseling was good. I talked about Jersey and my "difficult" professor. They took up about 10-15 minutes of the session, but I guess it was worth it because I realized some things by discussing it with someone who isn't a friend with Jersey and isn't in class with the professor. Yay! New perspectives!
Counselor says I'm doing well. We're going to start working on rationalizations. She told me that I'm doing really well and working really hard. She likes my college bucket list, Roomie's Thanksgiving List challenge, how I am doing with "friend" struggles, my dealings with the professor, and she told me it's okay to be flip-flopping all the time.
Apparently I go from having rational thoughts to survival mode frequently, and that is because my brain is confused with the PTSD. Survival mode is in the back, in the occipital lobe (from what I remember from anatomy and phys) while logical thought (where I used to live most of the time because I like it) is in the frontal lobe. So, my brain is trying to be normal, but then it decides it doesn't like how I used to be because it's too hard, so then it switches back to survival mode in the back. Meanwhile, I am left with my head spinning, whiplash, and major confusion and frustration at my lack of ability to be who I remember I used to be. C'est la vie, for the time being.
Normally, after counseling, I go to sit at Country Boy's grave. It was so cold yesterday that I stood there for 5 minutes, in my clinical whites because I have clinicals after, and started shivering so I left way early. I told Counselor that I felt it was weird and morbid. She told me it was actually really good because cemeteries are quiet, outside, peaceful, and there are plenty of ways to ground myself with nature, should I feel like I need to. Plus, I get vitamin D with being in the sun. Maybe next week it'll be warm enough to actually be able to sit with him again.
I ended up showing up to the hospital over an hour early. This was a great accident, because one of the other girls from my group was already there. We have a test tomorrow and so we were able to start studying and I learned a lot!!! Maybe I will do okay on this test. I hope so anyway. I just need to be able to stay in my frontal lobe and stop switching back to the occipital lobe for a couple more days so that I can study solidly and remember the information for this class that I need to know for the test and my future career.
Clinicals went well. When we first go there, I asked if I could go change into greens, just so I would be ready if I ended up being able to go to a c-section or something. My instructor said that was okay, so I went with the other girls who were on L&D with me and we went to change. You should know, that I am tall, and I have wide hips. Wide hips are from genetics, and also from a little "extra padding," a.k.a. fat. Plus, I'm 5'8" and mostly legs, with a short (proportionally speaking) torso. When we went in to go get scrubs, the only sizes that were left were extra-small tops and small bottoms along with the 2x and 3x tops and bottoms. Good grief. I spent 10 minutes looking through every pair of bottoms to find a pair that was medium or large. No such findings came about. So, I tried on the 2x and my friends told me no. I tried on the small pants and they were bursting at the seems around my ass and thighs. They also came up about halfway up my calves, WHEN STANDING!
I walked into the pre-conference room with my whole clinical group and I fake-whined to my instructor: "Instructor, I need new pants!!!" They all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Granted, it was hilarious, but regardless of how thick my skin is, some things still hurt. So, when they calmed down a little and my instructor gave me her badge so I could go get scrubs that fit, they burst into laughter as I was walking out. That stung a little bit because I'm self-concious about my butt and thighs. I fit into an x-small top, but my butt needs a medium and my long legs need a large. To have people crack up as I walk out and they can see my butt makes my high anxiety and ability to be easily embarrassed get sent into over-drive. I play a good sport, but that doesn't mean that someone laughing along doesn't get hurt in the end.
So, just the thing I needed on an already difficult day... people laughing. It was funny, I'll give you that. It just made me over-think it for the rest of the day and even still, a day later. Just breathe.
10 Thanksgivings (from yesterday):
So, I was unable to talk about yesterday's bunch of stuff and tell you my funny story.
Counseling was good. I talked about Jersey and my "difficult" professor. They took up about 10-15 minutes of the session, but I guess it was worth it because I realized some things by discussing it with someone who isn't a friend with Jersey and isn't in class with the professor. Yay! New perspectives!
Counselor says I'm doing well. We're going to start working on rationalizations. She told me that I'm doing really well and working really hard. She likes my college bucket list, Roomie's Thanksgiving List challenge, how I am doing with "friend" struggles, my dealings with the professor, and she told me it's okay to be flip-flopping all the time.
Apparently I go from having rational thoughts to survival mode frequently, and that is because my brain is confused with the PTSD. Survival mode is in the back, in the occipital lobe (from what I remember from anatomy and phys) while logical thought (where I used to live most of the time because I like it) is in the frontal lobe. So, my brain is trying to be normal, but then it decides it doesn't like how I used to be because it's too hard, so then it switches back to survival mode in the back. Meanwhile, I am left with my head spinning, whiplash, and major confusion and frustration at my lack of ability to be who I remember I used to be. C'est la vie, for the time being.
Normally, after counseling, I go to sit at Country Boy's grave. It was so cold yesterday that I stood there for 5 minutes, in my clinical whites because I have clinicals after, and started shivering so I left way early. I told Counselor that I felt it was weird and morbid. She told me it was actually really good because cemeteries are quiet, outside, peaceful, and there are plenty of ways to ground myself with nature, should I feel like I need to. Plus, I get vitamin D with being in the sun. Maybe next week it'll be warm enough to actually be able to sit with him again.
I ended up showing up to the hospital over an hour early. This was a great accident, because one of the other girls from my group was already there. We have a test tomorrow and so we were able to start studying and I learned a lot!!! Maybe I will do okay on this test. I hope so anyway. I just need to be able to stay in my frontal lobe and stop switching back to the occipital lobe for a couple more days so that I can study solidly and remember the information for this class that I need to know for the test and my future career.
Clinicals went well. When we first go there, I asked if I could go change into greens, just so I would be ready if I ended up being able to go to a c-section or something. My instructor said that was okay, so I went with the other girls who were on L&D with me and we went to change. You should know, that I am tall, and I have wide hips. Wide hips are from genetics, and also from a little "extra padding," a.k.a. fat. Plus, I'm 5'8" and mostly legs, with a short (proportionally speaking) torso. When we went in to go get scrubs, the only sizes that were left were extra-small tops and small bottoms along with the 2x and 3x tops and bottoms. Good grief. I spent 10 minutes looking through every pair of bottoms to find a pair that was medium or large. No such findings came about. So, I tried on the 2x and my friends told me no. I tried on the small pants and they were bursting at the seems around my ass and thighs. They also came up about halfway up my calves, WHEN STANDING!
I walked into the pre-conference room with my whole clinical group and I fake-whined to my instructor: "Instructor, I need new pants!!!" They all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Granted, it was hilarious, but regardless of how thick my skin is, some things still hurt. So, when they calmed down a little and my instructor gave me her badge so I could go get scrubs that fit, they burst into laughter as I was walking out. That stung a little bit because I'm self-concious about my butt and thighs. I fit into an x-small top, but my butt needs a medium and my long legs need a large. To have people crack up as I walk out and they can see my butt makes my high anxiety and ability to be easily embarrassed get sent into over-drive. I play a good sport, but that doesn't mean that someone laughing along doesn't get hurt in the end.
So, just the thing I needed on an already difficult day... people laughing. It was funny, I'll give you that. It just made me over-think it for the rest of the day and even still, a day later. Just breathe.
10 Thanksgivings (from yesterday):
- First test of the week is done and I was able to take it with really smart people (it was a group test).
- I had great night shift nurses and got to see an ultrasound/fetal echo.
- Counseling went well.
- I was able to go to Country Boy's grave site, even if just for a few minutes.
- I'm finding friends in unlikely situations and places.
- I started studying and did really well in our version of jeopardy (for the studying).
- Roomie is helping me on my road to recovery and we are setting goals before they are even assigned for counseling homework!
- Fake friends are dropping off while solid friends are coming to the surface because the fake friends are wearing them out too.
- My clinical instructor is absolutely wonderful.
- I am nearly done with one set of clinicals for the semester and my very last set of clinicals starts in about a week or two.
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