Days Like Today

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Maybe even sleep for a few weeks. I know I’ve mentioned how much my dreams bother me, but even they’re preferable to the way I’m feeling right now.

I think the hardest part for me is knowing that the way I’m feeling is completely irrational. I take slight scoldings and treat them like the end of the world. And, to me, they are. Because if someone has to scold me, I messed up in a miniscule way that I ought to have been able to correct on my own. Instead, someone else has to notice it and tell me to fix it.

And, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s other people telling me how to do things. I love to learn, but I don’t like it when I think I have it down and mess up. Like this morning when I was on watch. I was yelled at for something so small and that I had no way of knowing, but it still hurt me. It hurt me to the point where all my irrational fears and doubts came back up to the surface, the ones I’d been working so hard to get past.

I know I’m better than that. I know I’m a good person who wouldn’t try to do things wrong on purpose. I know there’s no reason for me to feel like shit every time someone tells me I messed up.

But I do.

And it scares me because, if this is how I react in the military, how am I going to behave in the civilian world? How am I going to handle not having a chain of command to help me with everything? Not that they really help me much, but they’re a convenient source of blame.

But, the point is, when I get out, I’ll have no one to blame but myself. And, really, that scares me, too. Because I play the blame game. I don’t like that, but I do. And, if the only person I can blame is myself, then I’m going to blame myself for a lot. Probably more than I actually deserve (because I’m a masochist like that), but I’d be shouldering a lot. And I’m scared that, when that day comes, I might be alone.

I’m not saying there’s trouble in paradise, far from it. Relationship-wise, the only problem I really have is that he’s shouldering a lot of my stress and burdens right now and, even though I know the day will come where he’ll need me to do the same, I feel guilty. They’re my problems. No one else should have to put up with them (Oh, that’s an old wound, isn’t it?).

I should stop now. I’m rambling because I’m tired and have to stay up even longer than I wanted to. I planned to go to bed after dinner, which I skipped to type this up. It’s ok, though, I’m not all that hungry. I had a very big burger for lunch (because I skipped breakfast).

Ok. Rambling’s done. Posting now.

Advertisements

Just Like The Movies

You know how, in older mushy, romantic stories, there’s always that part where the girl realizes that the man who is way out of her league is not only in love with her but willing to do crazy things just to make her smile or something else that just seems silly because it never happens in real life?

Well, I have just been shocked out of my mind. Almost literally.

Actually, let me back up a bit. So, as you may or may not be aware, I just recently came back from a trip to California for my grandmother’s funeral. Adjusting’s been tough, but manageable. Well, last Saturday, I talked to my mom and she informed me that her mother, my other grandmother, was sick and they were scared it was serious. The thing was, I had to wait until Monday because that was when she was going to go to the doctor to get it looked at.

So, I waited. Monday came, no results because the tests that they had to run would take a few days. So, I had to wait some more and, by this time, I was quite worried. The illness they were saying she might have has no cure. In any case, I waited and waited and, today, during lunch at work, I called my mom to see what was going on, if the results had come back, and how they were doing.

What she told me was that the doctors are pretty sure that, yes, it is what they suspected and that they’d have to do a biopsy to confirm. The whole time she was talking, I don’t think it ever registered in my brain what it meant exactly. Like, all the little things that it would mean. I was going to try to get through the day without breaking, but I couldn’t. For the first time ever in my naval career, I was sent home because I could not work through my grief. I couldn’t just “suck it up” and keep going.

Well, this is where the story turns into something out of Hollywood. Almost literally, again.

My boyfriend, who’s almost finished becoming a doctor, himself, is having a friend from a very well-known hospital review my grandmother’s case. The man, according to him, is one of the hospital’s leading specialists. And, while this doesn’t necessarily speak well of the man I am so passionately in love with (yes, I will admit it), he isn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart out of concern for my grandmother, though I do suspect some of it has to do with something I mentioned to him a while back.

He told me that he is going out of his way to help my grandmother because he can’t stand to see me upset like this. He said that what he gets out of this is seeing me happy again.

Oh, guys, I’m so mixed up about this. It makes me beyond happy not only that someone is looking at her case, but that it’s someone who specializes in cases like hers and is really going to be able to make a difference. Not only that, but it’s such an amazing feeling to know that someone you love cares so much about you that they’re willing to go to all that trouble over you. At the same time, though, it’s something that, with my self esteem issues and inability to accept or ask for help, I’m having trouble processing.

I mean, it’s literally unbelievable. That someone cares about me that much is just… mind-boggling. Add to that the fact that he’s actually able to do something to help and… I don’t know. I don’t know, guys. I think my words are broken.

Pack It All Away

I don’t know how many of you are like this, but I’m a compartmentalizer. I stuff emotions and thoughts away in separate parts of me and do my best to keep a lid on them. For a while, before the Navy, it worked pretty well.

I cried when the little jar of sadness started to get too full. I’d laugh and smile when appropriate. I’d be serious when the situation called for it. I was always doing what I could to be exactly what was needed.

And it worked.

But, after this weekend, I don’t know if I can do it anymore. I’m lost and confused and I don’t know what I want from life anymore. I know I can’t stop myself from feeling the pain of the loss of my grandmother, how sudden and sterile the whole affair has been. Everything I have done has been purely business and I have no idea how I can go to work tomorrow.

Everything hurts and I wish it would either stop and go back in its little cubby or that the world could just stop and let me be human a little longer.

I just need a little longer, guys. I need to understand what the hell is wrong with me. I need another few days or something. I need some time where I can stop worrying about everyone else and just… breathe and sort myself out. Repack my mind.

Being human feels more like insanity sometimes.