Off My Mind: Things I am Not Going to Worry About

Lately I’ve been worrying so much that I barely have time for anything else, in my head at least. The other day I realized that I just need to stop worrying… so I did. This is unprecedented in Liz history. The worries are still there, of course, but they no longer threaten to suck me dry. I no longer feel like I’m going to break into little pieces. I still need to purge my system, though, and get these worries off my mind.

I am not going to worry about money anymore. My paycheck every Friday isn’t that great — I work fifteen hours a week and earn minimum wage — and it may be tight every week, but I’m okay. It’ll be even less tight after next Friday, when I pay off the last bill in the stack of bills that I need to catch up on. Hell, I’m even managing to save a little bit of money every week. I’ve gotten damn good at budgeting. Clearly I am wife material.

I am not going to worry that every family member’s health problem is a death sentence anymore. Well okay, that’s probably impossible to stop doing, but I’m going to try. My aunt had her biopsy on the 21st, and the other lady in my life who needs a mammogram has yet to make an appointment, so either way it’s all out of my hands. Worrying is not going to help anything. It’s just going to make me feel sick.

I am not going to worry about my own health problems. Currently I’m in remission, meaning I have little to no symptoms. This could all change tomorrow, but I’m not going to worry about that. I’m actually feeling quite positive about this year’s New York Comic Con; last year, I hurt for days after, but this year I’m less soft because I work in retail again and I’m used to being on my feet for hours. By October 15th, I’ll be a pro. I’m not going to let my pain ruin that day for me.

I’m also not going to worry about my lack of a diagnosis. It’s got to be a good thing that they haven’t found anything, because maybe that means this will go away. Maybe it’s just some weird aftereffect of the mono I had, maybe it’s just the mono working its way out of my system all these years later. I don’t know. I caught a segment of some Mystery Diagnosis-ish show last night and the woman’s symptoms were almost to the T mine; I could have written that part of the episode. She ended up being diagnosed with Scleroderma, an autoimmune disease where the body doesn’t produce enough of the collagen protein and the body attacks its own skin cells and other tissues. It’s a rare disease marked by joint pain, fatigue, Raynaud’s Syndrome, and GI issues. It sounds pretty close to mine, and maybe it’s not mine, but once I get back on my feet and can afford another doctor’s appointment, I’m going to have Pam check my collagen levels in my next blood workup. It gives me something else to go on and something else to cross of the long list of Things That are Not Wrong with Me if the test comes back negative… but I’m not going to let it get to me.

And while we’re still on the health subject, I am so going to stop worrying about my Mirena IUD. When they first told me it could potentially poke through my uterus and cause DOOM, I didn’t worry about it. But ever since I missed my followup because I couldn’t afford the copay, I’ve been freaking out at the slightest bit of pressure in my lower abdomen. Logic tells me I would definitely know if the thing poked through my wall because I’d be in screaming pain and bleeding like a stuck pig or something, but my imagination (as we know) runs rampant and tells me that I am bleeding internally and am going to die. If you’ve ever thought I might be crazy, you now may be convinced that I am completely insane. I’m not apologizing for my imagination. It helps me write stories. :P

I am not going to worry about what I want to do for the rest of my life. I had this problem. I wanted to do everything and couldn’t pick one thing to do forever. A week ago, I realized that I don’t have to pick one thing. A career should be something you enjoy, that you want to get paid for. It shouldn’t be a life sentence. At least, not for me. I am not a “pick one thing and do it forever” kind of person. The only thing I do forever is love someone. I have many interests, all of which wax and wane. It keeps my life interesting and keeps me learning. I can already tell that I’m going to be one of those seventy-year-olds embarking on a new career, because I am always embarking on a new interest, and have already had a successful career.

Part of me wanted to be an editorial assistant, part of me wanted to be a teacher, and part of me wanted to be a surgeon. I can’t do it all at once, and I accept that. I tried to pick one thing to do forever and I couldn’t convince myself that it was okay, so when I realized that I didn’t have to choose, I felt a huge weight come off me. All I had to do was choose which one I wanted to do next. As much as I’d love to be an editorial assistant, it’s not realistic for what I want in my life right now. I’d have to go to school for another two to three years, work the retail job I have now, and then when I finished I’d have to find a job in the field… which would not be easy. I want to work as an editor for a publishing company and read people’s novels and short stories. Those jobs are very, very hard to come by, partly because of the economy, and partly because of the changing landscape of publishing. It doesn’t mean that it would be impossible. It just wouldn’t be easy.

So instead, I’ve decided to chase my other dream for now and come back to that one later: being a teacher. I’ve decided that I’d rather work as a preschool teacher because, as much as I love all kids, that age group is my favorite. And, in Connecticut, you can become a preschool teacher with either an A.S. in Early Childhood Education or your CDA certification. I’ve also heard that many preschool and Head Start programs will hire a teacher as long as they are currently working on their certification. I’ve emailed the head of the ECE department at my community college to see what my best option would be, as the certification on its own would take less time than the A.S., and I’m assuming that since I already have an A.S., I’d be just fine with the certificate.

I’d be able to start working in that field in a relatively short period of time, and then I would have a good paying job with health insurance benefits and enough income to live off of. After that, I could start pursuing my B.A. in English part-time and eventually be in that field, as well as have time to focus on my writing; most preschool teachers are part-time employed, and depending on where they teach, they also have summers off. I would also have something to fall back on if I can’t find employment as an editorial assistant. No matter how I look at it, this works for the best.

I am not going to worry about our wedding plans. Mike and I both have very different ideas of what our wedding should look like. He wants a Halloween wedding and I want a beach wedding — two very different seasons. I worried about us compromising, but I’ve decided that if we don’t, I don’t care. It doesn’t really matter to me how we get married, so long as we do get married. We’re going to talk about our wedding plans, budget, and a possible date later.

I am not going to beat myself up about my savings and worry about how soon we can get our own place. It really bothers me that I had to use the money I saved for an apartment to get through the months I was unemployed… but I’m not going to beat myself up about it anymore. I’m saving money again and moving forward. I’m considering setting up a second savings account that is only for the apartment, that way it’s out of sight and out of mind, and I won’t be tempted to tap into it next time I have a monetary emergency.

And, on a lighter note… I am not going to worry about catching up on Grey’s Anatomy anymore. I finished Episode 16 of Season 7 earlier today, DVRed the first episode of Season 8 last night, and I’ll catch up eventually. I’m not really looking forward to having to wait a whole week to see the next episode, anyway.

Also, on a completely different subject but also equally light note, I am back in my writers’ group at NVCC. I’m also sort of a team leader, the person who is there every Thursday so that we meet once a week no matter what. This also means that, every week, I have to write something. It also means that I’m taking it upon myself to ensure that, every week, we have some kind of snack. Snacks are important. I’m making the writers’ group and the Fresh Ink publication one of my priorities right now, because it helps me make writing one of my priorities. Writing and snacks are important.

What are you not worrying about, and what are you looking forward to? Leave a comment and get the bad things off your mind, and make something good your mind’s priority.

Losing my history

Today was Robbie’s birthday. He is 22 and is one of three of Mike’s siblings. He’s also a new daddy — someone PLEASE remind me to ask permission to post photos of Ciana — and has a wonderful girlfriend, Jaysa. We all went out tonight with a couple of his friends to the Chinese buffet in Watertown.

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

Sushi and beer, a girl's best friend

After over three years of dating Mike — we don’t subtract the two months we were broken up — I’d like to say that his family is pretty much my family. We’ve known for a while now that we are going to get married. He is my best, best friend, and the connection between us goes deeper than words can explain. If one of us is hurting, both of us are hurting. I don’t know about him, but I feel physically drawn to him, like a magnet to a refrigerator door (or to an old-school chalkboard, if you remember them).

Right now, we are both hurting.

That magnetic connection is still there, but we both are currently faced with the C word. I can no longer lean on him when I’m having a hard time accepting that Popi is sick and may not be with us much longer. Now, we must lean on each other, and I honestly don’t know how to be there for him when I am hurting so much myself.

You see, today we found out that there is a tumor in his mom’s brain. This strong, beautiful woman is like a second mother to me. No one could ever replace my own mother — I love you very, very much, Mommy — but Tracy is very dear to me. They — meaning the doctors — don’t know if it’s malignant or benign, so we have to wait and see, and anyone who knows me knows that I suck at the waiting game.

I thought for sure that maybe she had MS, and it was an MS lesion. I wanted it to be MS, so very badly, just like I wanted my grandfather to just have a damaged sciatic nerve. Instead, the C word looms.

And people act surprised when they discover I am smoking again.

With makeup and au natural hair

With makeup and au natural hair

Don’t get me wrong, things aren’t all bad. I went to my writers’ group this afternoon, although I was half an hour late because it started at 3:30 and I work at my PT job until 4. I didn’t bring anything with me, either, so it ended early because out of the four of us, only two people brought something in. One of us wasn’t even there to perfect her writing; she is an ESL student and joined the group so that she could hear more conversational English and learn from listening to us pick apart language in our writing. She’s Russian, so she is automatically cool in my book. I sometimes desperately wish I knew more about my Russian heritage, but thanks to my mom’s dad taking off when she was a teenager, we know next to nothing.

Anyway, she was very cool and for someone who claimed to not be a writer, she had quite a bit to offer to the conversation and lots of suggestions for Chick’s poem.

Even though I had nothing to bring in with me, I did spend almost two hours yesterday writing a chapter for Secondhand Mom. So far, it’s nine pages long and is probably going to be twice as long when I finish it. It might be so long that I’ll have to break it up into at least two separate chapters. Regardless, it felt really good to actually do some writing. I fell right back into pace, and am really loving my characters right now. I just wish that I had more time to spend on writing as opposed to working.

Yesterday was also my first appointment with my new psychologist, but that’s a whole other post.

I am trying really hard to see the good side of life right now, or else I’ll probably lose my mind. I often feel like my whole childhood, my history, is just being pulled right out from underneath me by some meaner, bigger kid. Life’s a bitch like that.

Anyway. How are YOU?

A spoonful of happiness

My new response to everything is coffee.

When I’m stressed out? I make a pot of coffee. When I’m tired? I make a pot of coffee. When I’m gearing up to dive into a whole lot of work? I crave coffee. (Please, oh please, let my Starbucks Christmas Blend last a little while longer.)

Coffee is my new crack, yellowing of teeth included. I’m going to need some of those Crest White Strips. (Do they even work?)

I’m sitting here slurping hot coffee as I write this, because it doesn’t seem natural to sit in front of any kind of computer without a cup of crackcoffee. The stuff doesn’t even give me energy anymore; I just NEED it. And love it.

I look forward to Thursday, when I’ll drive down to my Barnes & Noble, order the White Chocolate Mocha Latte in the largest size, and sit down in front of my laptop to write.

I’ve been trying to write every day, if I can. On Saturday I wrote a lot. I wish I knew exactly how much (but I’ll guesstimate anywhere between 8,000 and 10,000 words). This morning, I wrote 1,074 words, or something around there. I probably will also do some writing Wednesday morning. Getting up at nine as opposed to ten this morning sucked at first, but when I sat down and wrote for thirty minutes, it felt so good. I didn’t even want to stop (which is why I was late to work this morning)!

I’m discovering that not only do I love writing, but I love writing. I can see Secondhand Mom finished very soon, can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. I’m almost there, and it feels so good.

I’m also looking forward to tomorrow, when I’ll get up even earlier so that I can work my shift at my part-time job earlier, so that I can go to the writers’ group at my community college at 2pm. I look forward to seeing the familiar faces: Chick, Roger, Professor Harding. I look forward to seeing the new faces, too. I’m also really looking forward to being on the Fresh Ink committee; I don’t think I can submit anything because I’m alumni now, but I already volunteered to do the page layouts. I haven’t done any print work in a long time, so this should be interesting.

Despite all of the negative that has been such a big part of my daily routine lately, there is a load of positive to go with it. Take some time today to think about the positive in your life. Leave a comment and share it with me; I want to hear all about it.

It's time to make it happen

I know I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up, but when I saw that publisher PUSH holds novel publishing contests every year, I just had to check it out. I wasn’t even sure if they were still doing it, since I’d found out about it when I finished Cut by Patricia McCormick (it was on the very last page).

Turns out, the contest is only for students in grades 7-12. Even though I look pretty young for my age, I would not be able to pull that off. Or could I? ;)

That’s okay, though, because I already have my eyes on an agent that I am going to send Secondhand Mom to. And I plan on having Secondhand Mom finished and ready for editing by the end of February. Especially since I will be spending the first or second Saturday of the month — can’t remember which — stranded at Southern for about four hours. Southern, if you remember, is the university I sort of went to for a while. I am taking my little sister — who is about to graduate high school and is looking at colleges — up to SCSU so that she can take the essay exam to get into their Honors College. The whole process is going to take about four hours, and since I probably don’t have remote internet access anymore since I’ve withdrawn, I am going to be unable to work on any projects for my clients. Which means I need to take advantage of that by bunkering down in my favorite campus lounge (which is stocked with Starbucks coffee, by the way), cracking open my laptop, and writing (almost1) straight through those four hours.

When I was enrolled at Southern, I enjoyed nothing more than hanging out in that lounge and working on my outlines for this novel. The atmosphere of it was just perfect for writing. I did a little pre-writing, too, and wished that I could spend my time there actually writing my novel as opposed to preparing for NaNoWriMo 2009 or doing homework for class3.

Where was I4?

Anyway, I will finish this novel by the end of February, and then I will forceask one of my writers’ group mates to help edit, and then I will edit this sucker, and then I absofuckinglutely will send it off to said designated agent.

This book is going to see the shelves of Barnes & Noble, and nothing — not depression, not work, not the fear of rejection — is going to stand in my way5.


1 I should probably take bathroom breaks, a lunch break, and maybe a cigarette break if I am still smoking2 at that point.

2 I am now one of those on again, off again smokers I once hatedenvied so much when I was a full-time smoker.

3 I’ve come to realize that I enjoyed the environment of Southern more than I enjoyed the program I was in. That’s not to say that I didn’t love the kids. I loved them so, so much. I think about them all of the time, especially my Conner and my Lola. They were such cool kids. But I’ve discovered that the whole thing was a big spontaneous disaster waiting to happen; I should have thought about it harder before jumping in with both feet (and taking out loans). I’m thoroughly enjoying the consequences of that jump now, as I await my next loan statement and prepare to begin making monthly payments. Hoo-fucking-rah for me. I do miss going to SCSU, but I refuse to re-enroll until I’ve thought about it long and hard — haha, excuse me while I be immature and giggle over that — and before I can even think about it, I need to diagnose my mystery autoimmune disease. This, of course, is a post for another day.

4 I’m trying to keep all of my rambling, ADHD-byproduct thoughts organized here, but instead it’s only making me totally lose focus of what the hell I originally set out to write about.

5 Now if only I could quit talking about it and get writing.

December 2009 Goals

I’m VERY goal-oriented, but I tend to take on HUGE things and pile myself with too much to do. Recently, I’ve tried to break that habit by setting smaller goals at smaller intervals. Every month I set a few small goals that are more achievable and less stressful.

Last month, I tried to:

  • Write a novel — and FINISH it, dammit!
  • Finish designing Freaking Bookworm.
  • Give Perpetual Smile a face lift with a customized design.

I managed to write about 60% of Secondhand Mom, my NaNoWriMo novel. I also started working on Freaking Bookworm. With a whole lot of life thrown at me all at once (chronic pain/disease getting worse, work, and finding out that my Popi has cancer), I got pretty slowed down on these goals. BUT — and I say “but” very loud and proud — I did accomplish a lot. I got very close to two of my three goals, so I can’t complain.

With everything that is going on, I need something to focus on, WITHOUT OVERWHELMING MYSELF EVEN MORE. I have a hard time not overloading myself. The last thing I need right now is to send myself to the ER for a nervous breakdown. BUT — and I say “but” very loud again — I need goals like a junkie needs heroin. I’m a goal junkie. An overachiever, if you will. So, how to get my fix without overdosing?

There is a LOT that I want to do right now, a LOT that I need to get done, and a LOT going on in my personal life. The wants I need because I need to try to stay as happy as possible. This means satisfying the muse (writing the novel, working on personal side projects, etc). The needs, well, they need to get done because my clients want their shit done, rain or shine, whether my fingers and toes are attached or not. Plus, I’m broke and I need some money. The chaotic, shittiness of my personal life needs to fuck off, but it’s there nonetheless. That part of my life cannot be changed. I’m having a hard time with that, too.

So, goals. Right. Getting back on track.

  • Go to my writers’ group, every week. This will encourage me to keep writing, be it THE NOVEL or other stuff. It’ll also keep me sane.
  • Spend lots of time with Popi. Make him laugh.
  • Buy a camera and start taking tons of pictures of the people I love, because for some reason there are no recent pictures of anyone.

There. Simple enough, right?