Tuesday, July 26, 2011

ten years

If you had told me that when I was 18 years old I was going to meet the man I'd be with forever I would've not only laughed at you, but I would have run screaming. I did not want to be serious with anyone. The only person I'd ever been serious with was my high school boyfriend and that was far from a healthy relationship.

And yet, ten years later there is a man sleeping on my sofa after working all day who wakes up just enough to tell me that he loves me before falling back asleep.

I love him, too.

You will never hear me say that my marriage or relationship is perfect. It isn't. Oh lord, it is the furthest thing from perfect imaginable. But it's good and that's all I need. It's good and happy and full of laughter. Nine days out of ten he's my best friend in the world. Even on that one day when I want to shake him and kick him in the knee I'm still glad I married the jerk.

My husband is my opposite. When I am UP and MOVING and LOUD he is calm and relaxed and quiet. I want to tell the entire world what I think of them and he's okay with only talking to a few close friends and family. I want to see things and learn things and explore and in that he is my equal. He challenges me to think, but more importantly he's taught me how to feel. He's taught me how to love unconditionally. I never struggled with pushing myself. I'm okay with learning something new and I live for understanding a new concept. But emotions? Deep, powerful emotions that leave me vulnerable and exposed? I would rather chew my own arm off.

Except he makes me feel those things. And it's for that reason alone I'm still with him. Because no matter how hard it is or how much I want to shank him on some days when he's sitting on the computer and ignoring me entirely.. I remember that he wakes up just to tell me that he loves me.

And I love him, too.

limitations and lack of purpose

My surgery was exactly one week ago. And it's been just shy of a month since the fall. I'll admit it. I've been cranky, bitchy, snarky and annoying since this all happened. It isn't because of the pain. Yes, the pain sucked, but I can deal with it. The reason behind all of my frustrations is so much bigger than pain.

I have limits. Big, huge, glaring and annoying limits that have impacted my life.

I'm not going to pretend that this is some life changing event and that I understand what it means to be truly injured. This is just a knee injury and it will heal. But aside from breaking my arm when I was a kid, this is the first time I've been limited in what I can and cannot do. For someone who doesn't like asking for help ever, this is a challenge that I'm not handling very well.

When I want a glass of water I have to pull myself up, crutch over to the sink and balance on one crutch while getting a glass down and then shuffle back to the sofa and attempt not to spill anything. Making food is so time consuming and difficult that I bought a box of pop tarts because I can totally manage to open those. I'm eating them cold though. The toaster is far. And while I am dying to go outside and visit with friends and enjoy summer, the exhaustion I feel from going to therapy is so overwhelming that all I can do is relax.

My days consist of sitting on my sofa, browsing the internet, reading, watching bad television and talking to my cat. Four months ago my life revolved around work and I had to make time for all those other things. I've spent the last ten plus years working. I've always been busy. I've always been that person who was hard to see because I had too much going on.

The change in my employment status coupled with the change in my physical ability has been jarring. There are moments of happiness and love, but it's very hard to see them when I feel so sullen and downtrodden. The world seems to be going out of its way to find new and inventive ways of kicking me down just a little further. I'm still determined to tell the universe to fuck off and that I'll get past all of this, but until I manage to get to the other side I'm going to be cranky, bitchy, snarky and annoying.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

being home again

Ever since my surgery on Tuesday I have been staying with my parents. I moved out of their house when I left for college and only came back for a few months when I was 19, so I've pretty much been gone for the last decade or so. In fact, this is the most time I've spent with them since I move into my first apartment way back in 2002. The circumstances of being back home weren't great. I'm having a lot of trouble getting around and it's 100 degrees outside. But despite the reasons behind me being here, I can honestly say it feels so good to be home again.

My dad is the single most amazing man I've ever met in my life. For all of the teasing (and tormenting, kidding, nagging, belittling and bothering) he's been doing he has also been taking the best care of me. Every single day I've been here has come with the most delicious meals. Seriously. Spaghetti, fresh eggs and bacon and bread, grilled chicken, more eggs, more fresh bread, meatloaf and then today? Eggs, toast, bacon, grilled chicken, corn and salad, homemade pizza. Seriously. It's okay to be jealous because he's been fantastic.

And my mom. Oh, my mother. To say we butt heads a lot is such an understatement. We are so similar and so different that being under the same roof was a trying time for us both. I didn't expect things to go so well with my return, but she's been wonderful. I tease my mom that she's lacking a maternal instinct, but she's found it. My mother is sixty years old and she helped me bathe and dress. Her love (after all of these years) warms my little black heart.

I'm excited about going home. I miss my crappy little house and god do I miss seeing my husband. But knowing that I could come back home and depend on my parents for awhile is such a good feeling. I'm a damn lucky kid. Even at twenty-eight years old.

Friday, July 22, 2011

therapy is dumb

Yes, the trend of me blogging while hopped up on pills continues. I'm okay with that.

Today was my first day of physical therapy. Physical therapy is a place they send you so people who are overly perky and happy can tell you what a good job you are doing and then encourage you to be stronger! better! happier!

I think it's safe to say I will not be enjoying this.

The only reason I'm going to blast through this crap is because I don't want to go to the doctor three days a week. I have things to do, people. Okay, so I'm unemployed and alone all the time, but I'd still rather sit at home and read my book than go to freaking physical therapy. There are way too many people there all up in my business and that's not something I handle well.

Because, really, could these people be any happier? It's disgusting. They were happy about the rain and the fact that I could lift my leg a few inches off of the table. These are not my people. My people would tell me that if I get my leg off the table they'd bring me a cupcake. (I'm not ready to discuss the diet I need to go on just yet. I'm still upset by it.)

I tried therapy once. Of the mental sort. I lasted two sessions because the jackass kept wanting me to talk about my feelings. I'm not okay with that. Just like I'm not okay with physical therapy. I'm Swedish and Lutheran, all right? We don't discuss problems. We just go along, do our shit and politely decline any offers from friends or family for help.

Bottom line: Therapy is dumb, but I'm going to do it so I don't have to do it any longer. Yup.

Also? I really, really want a cupcake.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

this isn't 1955

Warning: This is another blog post brought to you by Tylenol 3 and general crankiness.

I don't have kids. You all know this. I love kids. I want kids. I think kids are great and I adore them, but I don't have them. Yes, I've been married for six years and with the same man for 10 years total now, but no we don't have kids.

Guess what? That's okay. I'm okay.

If you tell me one more time that I can't understand what you're going through because I don't have children, I will kick you. If you judge me because my struggles seem less than yours due to an absence of children, I will dislike you. And if you feel sorry for me because I'm not having luck getting pregnant, I will glare at you.

I know I don't have children. But that doesn't make me less of a person. And even though you might swear up and down and left and right that you don't think I'm less of a woman because I don't have children, you're likely lying. Because I know you think things. I know those comments go through your head about "poor Katy" and "she'll understand one day."

Guess what? I'm FINE. I'm okay right now and as much as I want to have children, my world will not be less if it never happens for me. I'm going to let you all in on a little secret about the women of the world who don't have children. Are you ready?

We do not stop being happy, whole and complete women just because we are not mothers. We are still happy people. We are still able to get out of bed, feed ourselves and live a full and rich life.

So, please, for the love of all things holy.. shut up. Do not try to push what YOU think we need onto us. We'll do things at our own pace. Thanks.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

the summer of suck

Summer is supposed to be awesome. Sunshine. Blue skies. Friends. Cookouts. Epic stuff of epicness, right? Well, this summer has sucked. And since I'm currently blogging under the influence of pain meds, I'm going to tell you all why it sucked and why I think it sucks that it sucked.

First my unemployment took FOREVER to show up. Money is stressful. Plus I got to feel all worthless and stuff because I don't have a job and I have never not had a job since I was 15 years old. (Minus six months between CLO and CLO, but I was taking care of Greg and pretty soon was dying to go back.) So anyway. I've been cranky all summer.

Then I decide to go swimming. Mmmm swimming. That seems like a good idea, right? WRONG. I fell getting into a pool and busted my knee. Which you all know resulted in ow and ouch and then braces and crutches and surgery yesterday. And now I'm all ow and ouch and oooh and ugh and medicated. It's not fun.

On top of that, our A/C is busted. And the other night our toilet broke. Because there wasn't enough shit going on, right? And we got some not so great family news that I'll be keeping to myself for now. All in all.. WHAT THE HELL, UNIVERSE? WHAT DID I DO TO PISS YOU OFF SO BADLY?

I'm annoyed. I'm pissed off that good people have crap happen to them over and over while bad people just skip through life. (By the way, if you reference Casey Anthony right now I will probably lash out horribly.) I think it's dumb and stupid and since this is my blog I can honest. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. That's how I feel right now.

Oh and I really have to pee, but I'm hooked to a machine. Think your day sucks? I am hooked to a machine.

And there's my bitchy blog post about my stupid summer of suck.

Fuck summer and everything that feels like summer.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

you're like a grandma.

I had big plans this summer. I was going to go out and enjoy the weather and have a good time. And so I went swimming at my cousin's house last Thursday. That seemed like a good idea, right? And it was.

Minus the part when I fell getting into the pool and busted the hell out of my knee.

One day of pain and a doctor's visit later I discovered I had injured my cartilage. Awesome! Because there is nothing more fun than spending my days sitting on a sofa and popping vicodin. Are you jealous? You totally should be!

I don't know exactly what's wrong yet because I have to fight with insurance companies to pay for my claims. I love our health care system. Really. Really.

But there are plus sides! I get people to come visit me and I got to ride around Walmart in one of those scooters. By the way, those things are harder to manage than you'd think. They don't like to stay still and when you back up it's embarrassing. Let's all mock my pain, shall we? As Lily said today... "Aunt Katy, you're like a grandma."