I think we all should be grateful for whatever we have, and what every we don't have for that matter.
"Some times I thank God....For unanswered prayers"
"You can't always get what you want...you cant always get what you want...but if you try sometimes, you just might find......you get what you need"
"Love the one your with"
And a host of other lyrics, quotes, and poems with similar expressions: they're all right. They all give off the same message, gratitude. It's really easy to get caught up in the negatives. I get into a spiral of negativity way too easily. I'm lucky though, when I start to become really deep in self pity, some part of my brain always seems to shock me back into reality. Today I am going to share things that I'm grateful for today. I'm going to try to make this list at least once a week. Hopefully that comes to fruition. So, here we go:
a house to live in, a comfortable bed, uncontaminated food and water, access to good medical care, air conditioning, parents that love me, a sister that loves me, supportive friends, my dogs, being surrounded by animals every day, being able to do what i have to everyday with out physical impairment, having access to a car that runs while mine is out of commission, artistic outlets, freedom to choose, ability to keep an open mind, trust in God, Freedom from fear, getting to watch my nephew during the week and watching him grow, being able to help my parents, use of a computer, use of innumerable conveniences, faith, compassion, empathy, love.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Graduation
This week two of my barn girls graduated from high school. (kids that belonged to my moms friends that wanted to be with the horses, helped me in the barn in exchange for lessons and time with the animals) They are both really great kids, and I'm so glad I was able to be a positive influence on them. They both continue to amaze me. The girls went to different HS, lived very different lives, but both did so well for themselves. In the fall, they both go away to college to become teachers. One of there graduations parties was today. My mom and I went. It was a nice time. But, I found myself a little sentimental. I kept picturing the ten year old little girl I'd pick up on my way to the barn at 8am every Saturday, no matter how cold or how hot it was, she'd be waiting at the door. She was always wide awake and talkative for our 15 minute ride. No matter how tired I was from work that week, or how frustrated I might be with life's little pit falls, she always made me smile. Sharing my love of riding with these two, seems to have had a good impact on us all. I'm such a sissy. I'm sitting here typing and getting teary eyed. Anyway, *sniff sniff* My girls are all grown up, sort of,haha .
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Cooled off....
Well, it has taken all of five days, but it would seem that my temper and the weather have both cooled down. There's a prayer that they say a lot in Alcoholics Anonymous (not a member, but my mom is, i.e. lots of time at meetings as a kid)
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
It doesn't always make me feel better, but I have jet to find a situation causing any negative feeling in me, that this little prayer doesn't apply.
Having a recovering alcoholic as a parent can definitely have an effect on you. She got sober when I was three, so I remember very little of her drinking/drugging. But I went to tons of meetings. I was a pretty good kid, so I sat and colored most of the time. I'm sure I heard things that were probably unsuitable for someone my age, but I have yet to find any ill effects from hearing them. I remember loving hearing all the different stories people had. They'd speak, and sometimes it was like sitting in the living room when the TVs on but your not watching it, or when you stay awake, pretending to be asleep, and listen to the television show your not aloud to watch.
I also developed a real numbness to "bad words". Today I'll be happy to tell you my opinion on them. Here it goes, THERE ARE NO BAD WORDS! I agree that there are situations where a certain word may not be the most tactful word to use. But, if you're speaking to someone with half a brain, the your meaning will still be received with the same effect. If you're talking to an idiot, using a better accepted word will probably go right under the radar, causing no upheaval at all. The media coins words all of the time, and they seem to be readily accepted (all be it, because so many people wouldn't know a newly made up word from a classic one). And on the media, there are so many words on TV during the day that were not spoken on TV at all when I was a kid. Damn Shit Ass Bitch. I hate censorship, but if I was a parent with a kid at home all day, I'd probably get frustrated. It's all well and good that I as an adult, believe there are no bad words, but it is still not accepted withing our society. And, I wouldn't want my kid to pick up words they were going to be punished for when they get to be school age. Honestly, with some contradiction to my philosophy, kids using "bad words" really make me crazy. Not so much amongst themselves, but to adults. Case in point:
When i was about 20, my uncle died, leaving behind two boys and his wife. both boys were under ten years old, (6 and 8 maybe?) Those boys were always spoiled, but would never have gotten away with speaking to there father, or any other adult in front of him, the way they did after his death. To use a very old expression, they swore like sailors. I wanted to ring there necks every second that I was with them. The oldest was a real brat, still is to a point in my opinion. He's a smart brat though. He just finished his first year at Oxford, studying "the classics". He is the only student in his class for this classics BS. He's been saying he wants to be president since he was five years old. He's a psychotic republican. Now, not all republicans are psychotic, but he is. He follows blindly and faithfully, even though he has yet to have voted for anything. But he'll probably make a some big political career. He's got the tall dark and handsome thing going, he's had family tragedy. Both his parents were raised in regular middle class homes and became lawyers. (He was raised in a 33 room mansion, but that will get down played) After he gets out of Oxford, he's joining the navy. You know, for political purposes. It would be nice if that shook him into a more realistic out look on, well, everything. I'm not going to count on it though.
So God help us all in 20 years, if he's still on the track he is on now. Don't worry, just keep reading the blog, loll, I'll keep you all forewarned.
well, this blog entry really took some twists and turns. Never a dull moment here in Sarah's mind.
Thanks for stopping by,
I hope you continue to have a God Damn wonderful life with your Fucking awesome loved ones, and your adorable little bastards!!!
Nighty Fucking Night!!!!!
Sarah
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
It doesn't always make me feel better, but I have jet to find a situation causing any negative feeling in me, that this little prayer doesn't apply.
Having a recovering alcoholic as a parent can definitely have an effect on you. She got sober when I was three, so I remember very little of her drinking/drugging. But I went to tons of meetings. I was a pretty good kid, so I sat and colored most of the time. I'm sure I heard things that were probably unsuitable for someone my age, but I have yet to find any ill effects from hearing them. I remember loving hearing all the different stories people had. They'd speak, and sometimes it was like sitting in the living room when the TVs on but your not watching it, or when you stay awake, pretending to be asleep, and listen to the television show your not aloud to watch.
I also developed a real numbness to "bad words". Today I'll be happy to tell you my opinion on them. Here it goes, THERE ARE NO BAD WORDS! I agree that there are situations where a certain word may not be the most tactful word to use. But, if you're speaking to someone with half a brain, the your meaning will still be received with the same effect. If you're talking to an idiot, using a better accepted word will probably go right under the radar, causing no upheaval at all. The media coins words all of the time, and they seem to be readily accepted (all be it, because so many people wouldn't know a newly made up word from a classic one). And on the media, there are so many words on TV during the day that were not spoken on TV at all when I was a kid. Damn Shit Ass Bitch. I hate censorship, but if I was a parent with a kid at home all day, I'd probably get frustrated. It's all well and good that I as an adult, believe there are no bad words, but it is still not accepted withing our society. And, I wouldn't want my kid to pick up words they were going to be punished for when they get to be school age. Honestly, with some contradiction to my philosophy, kids using "bad words" really make me crazy. Not so much amongst themselves, but to adults. Case in point:
When i was about 20, my uncle died, leaving behind two boys and his wife. both boys were under ten years old, (6 and 8 maybe?) Those boys were always spoiled, but would never have gotten away with speaking to there father, or any other adult in front of him, the way they did after his death. To use a very old expression, they swore like sailors. I wanted to ring there necks every second that I was with them. The oldest was a real brat, still is to a point in my opinion. He's a smart brat though. He just finished his first year at Oxford, studying "the classics". He is the only student in his class for this classics BS. He's been saying he wants to be president since he was five years old. He's a psychotic republican. Now, not all republicans are psychotic, but he is. He follows blindly and faithfully, even though he has yet to have voted for anything. But he'll probably make a some big political career. He's got the tall dark and handsome thing going, he's had family tragedy. Both his parents were raised in regular middle class homes and became lawyers. (He was raised in a 33 room mansion, but that will get down played) After he gets out of Oxford, he's joining the navy. You know, for political purposes. It would be nice if that shook him into a more realistic out look on, well, everything. I'm not going to count on it though.
So God help us all in 20 years, if he's still on the track he is on now. Don't worry, just keep reading the blog, loll, I'll keep you all forewarned.
well, this blog entry really took some twists and turns. Never a dull moment here in Sarah's mind.
Thanks for stopping by,
I hope you continue to have a God Damn wonderful life with your Fucking awesome loved ones, and your adorable little bastards!!!
Nighty Fucking Night!!!!!
Sarah
Monday, June 9, 2008
It's HOT
A little departure today, from the last posts. They were a little taxing to write, and surely would be taxing to read.
And no one likes to be taxed :+)
It has been hot here. Not 107 degrees for 9 days hot, (that really sucks), but humid sickening NJ hot. Working outside, you fully appreciate the difference a few degrees can make. But the really bad part of hot weather and working outside is Airconditioning. Going in and out of the AC makes you feel so sick. But, oh well, its still better then being freezing cold. But there's fun things about the heat: so much fun can be had outdoors, especially in the water. For the first time in a long time, i want to go to the beach, the ocean, the lake, it doesnt matter, a pool might even work. I've lost 25 lbs since december and i dont feel nearly as tired, or as disgusting looking as i did before. I still want to loose more weight, but i'm being very dilligent, and i expect to reach my goal. So the point of the weight thing i guess, was that i found a bathing suit i'm comfortable in, and dont look like a freak wearing, lol. But its not just that, i'm in a better frame of mind then i have been in a long time. That probably has the most to do with me wanting to do something i havent had the ambition to do for so long.
well,
goodnight
sarah
And no one likes to be taxed :+)
It has been hot here. Not 107 degrees for 9 days hot, (that really sucks), but humid sickening NJ hot. Working outside, you fully appreciate the difference a few degrees can make. But the really bad part of hot weather and working outside is Airconditioning. Going in and out of the AC makes you feel so sick. But, oh well, its still better then being freezing cold. But there's fun things about the heat: so much fun can be had outdoors, especially in the water. For the first time in a long time, i want to go to the beach, the ocean, the lake, it doesnt matter, a pool might even work. I've lost 25 lbs since december and i dont feel nearly as tired, or as disgusting looking as i did before. I still want to loose more weight, but i'm being very dilligent, and i expect to reach my goal. So the point of the weight thing i guess, was that i found a bathing suit i'm comfortable in, and dont look like a freak wearing, lol. But its not just that, i'm in a better frame of mind then i have been in a long time. That probably has the most to do with me wanting to do something i havent had the ambition to do for so long.
well,
goodnight
sarah
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Being: 1995-1998
Well, yesterday I got onto a fairly good roll about my time as a teenager, so I'm going to try to continue where I left off now.
May 1995
My grandfather, via my step dad, past away. He had been very ill for many years. He was a two time POW in Vietnam (i.e. he'd been starved a few times), he smoked since he was nine, and was married to my grandmother: more then enough to make someone chronically ill. Pancreatic cancer was his final undoing. All of my aunts, uncles and cousins were here from across the country. The day prior to the first of his services, we had everyone over to the farm for a less somber get together. I was the oldest of the kids, I entertained them, we had pony rides, played waffle ball, what ever they wanted, we did.
To understand what follows, you need a little background. If you are put off by medical or "female" issues, its a good time to stop reading.
When your a teenage girl, they tell you your cycles will not likely be regular. Mine had never been. It might last 2 wk, or a month, and then i might go 3 months without it. By the week of this party, my time of the month had been more then a month continuously. The last week of which seemed to be getting worse and worse. I didn't like discussing anything like this with my mom, but I was getting concerned, so I spoke to her. She was not concerned and was sure i just needed to eat some red meat and put my feet up. The day before the party I bled through my clothes twice. And I don't mean a little, my clothes were soaked. She still wasn't concerned, I don't think she was really absorbing what i was telling her, with so much else going on. Some relatives were staying with us, so i was sleeping on a foam mattress in our spare room. The day of the party i woke up with bloody sheets. I was on auto pilot, talking about it didn't help anything, i just needed to keep moving, keep getting things done. I put the sheets in the wash and took a shower. I did my morning work, set up for the party, socialized. All while making trips to the shower to clean up, changing my clothes 7 times, and stuffing as much food as i could get down my throat. Never underestimate the power of baked zit, it was the only tangible thing that kept me standing that day. I honestly donut remember if i made it through the entire party or not. But, at some point I went to bed.
By only what could be described as a miracle, i woke up the next morning. I remember this part vividly. I was laying in a pool of blood. my hands, my clothes, my sheets, the mattress, all bright red. I felt like i couldn't move. I screamed for an undetermined amount of time, I gave out 4 big yells i know that for sure. My dog was there with me, I used him to pull myself onto my knees. He balanced me as i struggled with the doorknob (that doorknob still sticks). Its about 25 ft from the spare room to my parents bedroom door. I crawled on my hands and knees. It was the longest 25 feet I think I'll ever travel. I banged on the door as hard as i could, which was apparently not hard, because i had to do it a second time.
By the time my mom was opening her door, my other grandfather (he was staying with us because he had a broken leg) had been sufficiently disturbed and was out of bed complain about all of the yelling, and demanding to know what my problem was.
I remember telling my mom I thought I needed to go to the hospital. My grandfather and she were arguing about him needing a ride to the doctors in an hour, neither one really getting the magnitude of my problem yet. my mom decided to stop at our doctors office, that maybe they could see me and i wouldn't have to go to the hosp. My grandfather wearing his robe went with us. The bitching back and forth continued amongst them. Mom pulled up in front of the door and came around to help me out, but there was no more moving for me. I was conscience, but i couldn't move, she went in to get a nurse, two came out, one male, with a wheelchair. the picked me up and put me in it, wheeling me directly to a room. The male nurse lifted me onto a table. I think the doctor must have looked at me all of 30 seconds before he said i needed to get to the hospital. the hospital was less then five minutes away, and it was determined I'd get there faster if mom drove me. the put me back into the car and we went to the er.
We pulled up and someone was waiting for me at the curb with a wheel chair. Everything starts to get real fuzzy now, I think i must have passed out. I woke up on a gurney in what seemed like an operating room at the time. A women doctor was there, nurses were shouting at me, are you pregnant? could you be pregnant? I kept telling them I'd never had sex, but they kept asking me over and over. In the midst of this, I had my first "exam". I remember tears going down my face, and feeling very violated. The doctor was very apologetic, but it really didn't matter at this point.
They pumped me full of fluids and Premarin (hormones). the hormones seemed to stop the increase in rate i was bleeding, so they upped it, and upped it again, and it decreased quite a bit but was still out of control it would seem. I remember waking up in the ER to someone filling vials with my blood. It was a truly strange experience, they were trying to stop the bleeding, and were still taking my blood.
I was really scared, As the wheeled me up to the pediatrics ward, i really felt like i was dying.
shortly after i was in my room, 3 men came in. my mom, her good friend who happened to be a nurse, and myself were the only ones in my room at this time.
They wanted to discuss the lab results and options. My initial labs showed my hemoglobin to be
2. 9 was, as i recall, on the low side of normal. They estimated I had lost, over the last week, more then my total blood volume. They told us there were two options: a transfusion or to continue the hormone therapy and hope it worked. They had to inform us of the risks of the transfusion. In 1995, the blood supply, was still very tainted. This is what they told me. 40% chance of contracting HIV, 50% chance of Hepatitis A, B, or C, and 60% chance of contracting various other diseases transmitted via blood. Keeping in mind, how many units i would require initially, and a high potential of me needing repeat transfusions (since no one had a clue why this was happening), There was very little chance of me not getting sicker from the transfusion.
My mom was sobbing. I remember squeezing her hand. I looked up at these doctors who were sure that transfusing me was the best solution and this is what I said. "I'm not afraid to die mom. But I don't want to live the rest of my life with aids, or anything else. It's not worth it to me." And my mom did something I would have never expected, she did what I wanted. The endocrinologist kept filling me with Premarin. By that night my hemoglobin was 4, the next day it was six, the next seven. Every hour someone took my blood pressure, and my vitals, every 4 hours someone came and drew my blood. I also got to experience several bleeding time tests. (they cut your arm with a razor blade and blot it with a sheet of paper, seeing how long it takes you to stop bleeding. )
After 2 weeks in the hospital, The bleeding had stopped. I went home, with my Premarin pills (3X's a day) and 10 standard Birth control pills twice a day. I was in the hospital again in July, but i was there in much better shape then i was in may. The had no idea what had happened. They gave me more Birth control pills. 12 or14 twice a day. Until my legs started to show signs of clots. Then I got to start on the Depo-Provera shot. When September came around, I still felt like the person laying in the hospital bed believing i was going to die. There was nothing to show why this happened, and having had another episode, nothing to suggest it wouldn't continue to happen. I signed myself out of school. I didn't want to spend the little energy i had left, sitting with tutors (i was sure not going back to school now to have this happen there).
9 months later i got a call from the hematologist that saw in me in the hospital. There was a new method of testing for a certain bleeding disorder, they were doing it at Univ. of Penn. He said the test had been run twice at the local hospital, but there was a good deal of evidence that suggested the university new method of testing was far more accurate. So I went and participated in the six our long testing, gladly. A month later, I knew what was wrong with me. It sounds silly, but it was one of the best moments of my life thus far. Von Willebrands Disease: a lack of or dysfunction of factor 8 in the blood, preventing proper clotting function in areas of the body with mucous membranes. There are 3 types, mine type 1, was the least severe. It was genetic.
So i knew what was wrong, and it wasn't my fault!!!! There were even some therapies in practice for my new disorder. In the end, I've had to stay on the Depo shot for the past, nearly, 13 years. But the medications they have can help me with surgeries or dental work, nose bleeds (something I'd had bad my whole life). This doctor gave me back my life, or at least the feeling that a life was possible. Not something most 17 year old think about, but it was my salvation.
I turned 18 in august of 1997, the year i would have graduated HS. In February of 1998, I took my GED and passed. I'm told its easier now, but it was really hard for me then.
March 22ND, 1998, I moved to OK with my Aunt, Uncle and cousins. That's where I got to actually BE a regular teenager for a bit. But Oklahoma is book in and of itself. That will have to wait for another post. Thanks to all who took the time to read about this. It was an experience that has had an enormous impact on who I am today.
May 1995
My grandfather, via my step dad, past away. He had been very ill for many years. He was a two time POW in Vietnam (i.e. he'd been starved a few times), he smoked since he was nine, and was married to my grandmother: more then enough to make someone chronically ill. Pancreatic cancer was his final undoing. All of my aunts, uncles and cousins were here from across the country. The day prior to the first of his services, we had everyone over to the farm for a less somber get together. I was the oldest of the kids, I entertained them, we had pony rides, played waffle ball, what ever they wanted, we did.
To understand what follows, you need a little background. If you are put off by medical or "female" issues, its a good time to stop reading.
When your a teenage girl, they tell you your cycles will not likely be regular. Mine had never been. It might last 2 wk, or a month, and then i might go 3 months without it. By the week of this party, my time of the month had been more then a month continuously. The last week of which seemed to be getting worse and worse. I didn't like discussing anything like this with my mom, but I was getting concerned, so I spoke to her. She was not concerned and was sure i just needed to eat some red meat and put my feet up. The day before the party I bled through my clothes twice. And I don't mean a little, my clothes were soaked. She still wasn't concerned, I don't think she was really absorbing what i was telling her, with so much else going on. Some relatives were staying with us, so i was sleeping on a foam mattress in our spare room. The day of the party i woke up with bloody sheets. I was on auto pilot, talking about it didn't help anything, i just needed to keep moving, keep getting things done. I put the sheets in the wash and took a shower. I did my morning work, set up for the party, socialized. All while making trips to the shower to clean up, changing my clothes 7 times, and stuffing as much food as i could get down my throat. Never underestimate the power of baked zit, it was the only tangible thing that kept me standing that day. I honestly donut remember if i made it through the entire party or not. But, at some point I went to bed.
By only what could be described as a miracle, i woke up the next morning. I remember this part vividly. I was laying in a pool of blood. my hands, my clothes, my sheets, the mattress, all bright red. I felt like i couldn't move. I screamed for an undetermined amount of time, I gave out 4 big yells i know that for sure. My dog was there with me, I used him to pull myself onto my knees. He balanced me as i struggled with the doorknob (that doorknob still sticks). Its about 25 ft from the spare room to my parents bedroom door. I crawled on my hands and knees. It was the longest 25 feet I think I'll ever travel. I banged on the door as hard as i could, which was apparently not hard, because i had to do it a second time.
By the time my mom was opening her door, my other grandfather (he was staying with us because he had a broken leg) had been sufficiently disturbed and was out of bed complain about all of the yelling, and demanding to know what my problem was.
I remember telling my mom I thought I needed to go to the hospital. My grandfather and she were arguing about him needing a ride to the doctors in an hour, neither one really getting the magnitude of my problem yet. my mom decided to stop at our doctors office, that maybe they could see me and i wouldn't have to go to the hosp. My grandfather wearing his robe went with us. The bitching back and forth continued amongst them. Mom pulled up in front of the door and came around to help me out, but there was no more moving for me. I was conscience, but i couldn't move, she went in to get a nurse, two came out, one male, with a wheelchair. the picked me up and put me in it, wheeling me directly to a room. The male nurse lifted me onto a table. I think the doctor must have looked at me all of 30 seconds before he said i needed to get to the hospital. the hospital was less then five minutes away, and it was determined I'd get there faster if mom drove me. the put me back into the car and we went to the er.
We pulled up and someone was waiting for me at the curb with a wheel chair. Everything starts to get real fuzzy now, I think i must have passed out. I woke up on a gurney in what seemed like an operating room at the time. A women doctor was there, nurses were shouting at me, are you pregnant? could you be pregnant? I kept telling them I'd never had sex, but they kept asking me over and over. In the midst of this, I had my first "exam". I remember tears going down my face, and feeling very violated. The doctor was very apologetic, but it really didn't matter at this point.
They pumped me full of fluids and Premarin (hormones). the hormones seemed to stop the increase in rate i was bleeding, so they upped it, and upped it again, and it decreased quite a bit but was still out of control it would seem. I remember waking up in the ER to someone filling vials with my blood. It was a truly strange experience, they were trying to stop the bleeding, and were still taking my blood.
I was really scared, As the wheeled me up to the pediatrics ward, i really felt like i was dying.
shortly after i was in my room, 3 men came in. my mom, her good friend who happened to be a nurse, and myself were the only ones in my room at this time.
They wanted to discuss the lab results and options. My initial labs showed my hemoglobin to be
2. 9 was, as i recall, on the low side of normal. They estimated I had lost, over the last week, more then my total blood volume. They told us there were two options: a transfusion or to continue the hormone therapy and hope it worked. They had to inform us of the risks of the transfusion. In 1995, the blood supply, was still very tainted. This is what they told me. 40% chance of contracting HIV, 50% chance of Hepatitis A, B, or C, and 60% chance of contracting various other diseases transmitted via blood. Keeping in mind, how many units i would require initially, and a high potential of me needing repeat transfusions (since no one had a clue why this was happening), There was very little chance of me not getting sicker from the transfusion.
My mom was sobbing. I remember squeezing her hand. I looked up at these doctors who were sure that transfusing me was the best solution and this is what I said. "I'm not afraid to die mom. But I don't want to live the rest of my life with aids, or anything else. It's not worth it to me." And my mom did something I would have never expected, she did what I wanted. The endocrinologist kept filling me with Premarin. By that night my hemoglobin was 4, the next day it was six, the next seven. Every hour someone took my blood pressure, and my vitals, every 4 hours someone came and drew my blood. I also got to experience several bleeding time tests. (they cut your arm with a razor blade and blot it with a sheet of paper, seeing how long it takes you to stop bleeding. )
After 2 weeks in the hospital, The bleeding had stopped. I went home, with my Premarin pills (3X's a day) and 10 standard Birth control pills twice a day. I was in the hospital again in July, but i was there in much better shape then i was in may. The had no idea what had happened. They gave me more Birth control pills. 12 or14 twice a day. Until my legs started to show signs of clots. Then I got to start on the Depo-Provera shot. When September came around, I still felt like the person laying in the hospital bed believing i was going to die. There was nothing to show why this happened, and having had another episode, nothing to suggest it wouldn't continue to happen. I signed myself out of school. I didn't want to spend the little energy i had left, sitting with tutors (i was sure not going back to school now to have this happen there).
9 months later i got a call from the hematologist that saw in me in the hospital. There was a new method of testing for a certain bleeding disorder, they were doing it at Univ. of Penn. He said the test had been run twice at the local hospital, but there was a good deal of evidence that suggested the university new method of testing was far more accurate. So I went and participated in the six our long testing, gladly. A month later, I knew what was wrong with me. It sounds silly, but it was one of the best moments of my life thus far. Von Willebrands Disease: a lack of or dysfunction of factor 8 in the blood, preventing proper clotting function in areas of the body with mucous membranes. There are 3 types, mine type 1, was the least severe. It was genetic.
So i knew what was wrong, and it wasn't my fault!!!! There were even some therapies in practice for my new disorder. In the end, I've had to stay on the Depo shot for the past, nearly, 13 years. But the medications they have can help me with surgeries or dental work, nose bleeds (something I'd had bad my whole life). This doctor gave me back my life, or at least the feeling that a life was possible. Not something most 17 year old think about, but it was my salvation.
I turned 18 in august of 1997, the year i would have graduated HS. In February of 1998, I took my GED and passed. I'm told its easier now, but it was really hard for me then.
March 22ND, 1998, I moved to OK with my Aunt, Uncle and cousins. That's where I got to actually BE a regular teenager for a bit. But Oklahoma is book in and of itself. That will have to wait for another post. Thanks to all who took the time to read about this. It was an experience that has had an enormous impact on who I am today.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Being: 1992-1995
From 1992-1999 I could officially be classified as a "teenager". A necessary evil in every society I suppose. August 9Th, 1992, I turned 13. My grandfather bought me a giant rum cake. It was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone but me. (Not that I let him know that) I didn't know it at the time, but this birthday would be a sort ending to my childhood. The day of my party was the last day I would ever see my best childhood friend. She was a huge part of my life. Her parents had gotten a divorce a few months earlier and she'd moved to NC with her mom. She was back in NJ for a month that summer visiting her father. I still miss her, and wonder what her life is like now.
In September eighth grade began. I have never like school all that well, but this year was of particular inconvenience to me. (other girls where busy throwing themselves at boys, i was busy throwing myself into horses) I found my niche. I was good at it, and constantly getting better. Riding was what I was suppose to do, I was sure of it. I guess this is how other kids felt about baseball or basketball. By the end of October that year my horse had to be put to sleep. To say that I was upset, wouldn't come close to how I felt. But I had a teacher that helped me through it marvelously. In hind site, I wouldn't have gotten as good as i did if things had not happened in this way. This was the year I also had one of my first big crushes. The farm I rode at had a foreign exchange student from Spain. I know pretty cliche', but that's the truth. He was a good pal anyway, and definitely helped me hone my chauvinist pig radar.
So, school was definitely in the way of my career as an equestrian super star. (loll) I was in all the middle of the road level classes. Not stupid, not smart, average. Since my popularity climaxed in the first grade, school did nothing for me socially either. A few straggling friends from elementary school I passed the time with were my school day cohorts. I didn't have anytime for them after school, I was busy with my riding. Not that they were at all interested in hanging out anyway.
Something else I had no time for, the saxophone. I was in the band since 4Th grade. The teacher I got for this year of band, put any hopes of that continuing further, well to rest. The crazy woman wanted me to practice.
It should be noted, my father worked nights, i really could not practice at home. She didn't buy it, so after a few months of fighting with her i quit.
Good ridden!
I made some new friends through riding. I had never had the experience of people seeking me out as a friend. Apparently it happens sometimes when your good at something. Who'd have guessed? We had things in common, likes dislikes, and horses being the big thing of course. But there was something VERY different about them, money. There parents had it by the truck full.
They had new cars, computers, rooms in there houses that no one went into, they went on vacations!! It was truly surreal to witness this sort of lifestyle. I new there were people that lived in those giant houses, i just never thought they'd invite me inside. This sort of sums up the class differences. My mom was driving a 74' Dodge Dart Swinger, your feet got wet if it was raining or if you drove through a puddle. Everyone of the girls I was friends with got carted around in a shinny, new that year, luxury something. Some turned out to be real snobs, surprise surprise, but a few were awesome and we're still friendly today.
So basically, what I lacked in socialization during school hours, I made up for with these guys.
I finished middle school, and begrudgingly went to my eighth grade graduation. The day before which, I broke my toe (i.e. horse hoof), and my shoes wouldn't fit. I wore loafers that had a few holes to the ceremonies. My mother was mortified.
I had always been way down on the list of popularity in school. I got picked on a great deal. (looking like olive oil didn't really help either) But, before high school began in the fall of 1993, i figured somethings out: glasses are the enemy, its not bad to keep your mouth shut, and most importantly clothes. I was always a disaster with clothes. This is what I discovered, If I wore things no one had ever seen, and I would have never picked out for myself, I was cool. Lucky for me, there were plenty of size 2's that were ugly on sale racks all over. And I finally incorporated things I actually like into my wardrobe. So dressing "better" and not wearing glasses did a lot to reduce my stress during school.
I did pretty well in my classes, my teachers stopped calling me average. All my subjects accept math (my teacher was horrible), recommended me for honors classes for my sophomore year.
I had an art teacher that really made me think, and really improved my work in that area. Shoot, i even got good grades in P.E. All this positive school stuff and continued success with the horses, was mind blowing. Besides having horrible crush making me bonkers, Life could not have been better.
April 20something, 1994. I was getting ready for school. We lived in an old house, it had a tub, but no shower. So, i was in the bath tub when it happened. My first panic attack. They sound like BS until your standing naked in the bath tub screaming at the top of your lungs. Needless to say, I didn't make it to school that day. My mom had had problems with depression, suicide, drugs alcohol, etc., so she new she had better take me to the doctor. I honestly don't remember if it was that day or the next but i remember what i wore. I remember trying to pick out something that wouldn't make me look crazy. My mom had been locked up when i was a child, and becoming like her was one of my greatest fears, all be it unrealized until this point.
The doctor gave me some dopey med, told me to take 2 weeks off from school, and see him every 2 weeks. I had panic attack after panic attack. And when i tried to go back to school they got worse. Feeling as though you have no control over your body has got to be one of the worst feelings ever. I didn't go back to school that year. I had tutors, and we moved to another school district in the fall. Not because of my problems, it just happened to work out that way. I got quite a bit worse before i got better. I never did go back to HS. The new district tested me and said i was more then smart enough for the classes but didn't trust my emotional state provided me the ability to complete the work. So i had tutors for another year. another year of average work. work i had already done in 8Th and 9Th grade. it was more mind numbing then the medications they gave me.
The doctors figured out in early 1995 that i was bipolar. So the medicines changed, and I actually started getting better. I really thought I was going to have a regular junior and senior year of HS. In May, my life would change forever.
In September eighth grade began. I have never like school all that well, but this year was of particular inconvenience to me. (other girls where busy throwing themselves at boys, i was busy throwing myself into horses) I found my niche. I was good at it, and constantly getting better. Riding was what I was suppose to do, I was sure of it. I guess this is how other kids felt about baseball or basketball. By the end of October that year my horse had to be put to sleep. To say that I was upset, wouldn't come close to how I felt. But I had a teacher that helped me through it marvelously. In hind site, I wouldn't have gotten as good as i did if things had not happened in this way. This was the year I also had one of my first big crushes. The farm I rode at had a foreign exchange student from Spain. I know pretty cliche', but that's the truth. He was a good pal anyway, and definitely helped me hone my chauvinist pig radar.
So, school was definitely in the way of my career as an equestrian super star. (loll) I was in all the middle of the road level classes. Not stupid, not smart, average. Since my popularity climaxed in the first grade, school did nothing for me socially either. A few straggling friends from elementary school I passed the time with were my school day cohorts. I didn't have anytime for them after school, I was busy with my riding. Not that they were at all interested in hanging out anyway.
Something else I had no time for, the saxophone. I was in the band since 4Th grade. The teacher I got for this year of band, put any hopes of that continuing further, well to rest. The crazy woman wanted me to practice.
It should be noted, my father worked nights, i really could not practice at home. She didn't buy it, so after a few months of fighting with her i quit.
Good ridden!
I made some new friends through riding. I had never had the experience of people seeking me out as a friend. Apparently it happens sometimes when your good at something. Who'd have guessed? We had things in common, likes dislikes, and horses being the big thing of course. But there was something VERY different about them, money. There parents had it by the truck full.
They had new cars, computers, rooms in there houses that no one went into, they went on vacations!! It was truly surreal to witness this sort of lifestyle. I new there were people that lived in those giant houses, i just never thought they'd invite me inside. This sort of sums up the class differences. My mom was driving a 74' Dodge Dart Swinger, your feet got wet if it was raining or if you drove through a puddle. Everyone of the girls I was friends with got carted around in a shinny, new that year, luxury something. Some turned out to be real snobs, surprise surprise, but a few were awesome and we're still friendly today.
So basically, what I lacked in socialization during school hours, I made up for with these guys.
I finished middle school, and begrudgingly went to my eighth grade graduation. The day before which, I broke my toe (i.e. horse hoof), and my shoes wouldn't fit. I wore loafers that had a few holes to the ceremonies. My mother was mortified.
I had always been way down on the list of popularity in school. I got picked on a great deal. (looking like olive oil didn't really help either) But, before high school began in the fall of 1993, i figured somethings out: glasses are the enemy, its not bad to keep your mouth shut, and most importantly clothes. I was always a disaster with clothes. This is what I discovered, If I wore things no one had ever seen, and I would have never picked out for myself, I was cool. Lucky for me, there were plenty of size 2's that were ugly on sale racks all over. And I finally incorporated things I actually like into my wardrobe. So dressing "better" and not wearing glasses did a lot to reduce my stress during school.
I did pretty well in my classes, my teachers stopped calling me average. All my subjects accept math (my teacher was horrible), recommended me for honors classes for my sophomore year.
I had an art teacher that really made me think, and really improved my work in that area. Shoot, i even got good grades in P.E. All this positive school stuff and continued success with the horses, was mind blowing. Besides having horrible crush making me bonkers, Life could not have been better.
April 20something, 1994. I was getting ready for school. We lived in an old house, it had a tub, but no shower. So, i was in the bath tub when it happened. My first panic attack. They sound like BS until your standing naked in the bath tub screaming at the top of your lungs. Needless to say, I didn't make it to school that day. My mom had had problems with depression, suicide, drugs alcohol, etc., so she new she had better take me to the doctor. I honestly don't remember if it was that day or the next but i remember what i wore. I remember trying to pick out something that wouldn't make me look crazy. My mom had been locked up when i was a child, and becoming like her was one of my greatest fears, all be it unrealized until this point.
The doctor gave me some dopey med, told me to take 2 weeks off from school, and see him every 2 weeks. I had panic attack after panic attack. And when i tried to go back to school they got worse. Feeling as though you have no control over your body has got to be one of the worst feelings ever. I didn't go back to school that year. I had tutors, and we moved to another school district in the fall. Not because of my problems, it just happened to work out that way. I got quite a bit worse before i got better. I never did go back to HS. The new district tested me and said i was more then smart enough for the classes but didn't trust my emotional state provided me the ability to complete the work. So i had tutors for another year. another year of average work. work i had already done in 8Th and 9Th grade. it was more mind numbing then the medications they gave me.
The doctors figured out in early 1995 that i was bipolar. So the medicines changed, and I actually started getting better. I really thought I was going to have a regular junior and senior year of HS. In May, my life would change forever.
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