festering clam
The good news is that I'm getting better at waking up at 4:00 and 5:00am. At first, it seemed impossible, as did going to bed at a time that made that feat less than absolute torture. The body adapts.
Still, I think a NOC nurse lives inside me.
So I'm halfway through my third of four semesters in the nursing program. Graduation looms. And as much as I'm burdened by the homework and deadlines and obligations, I am growing more horrified of what is going to happen after that point with each passing day. Where will I end up, and will I loathe it?
And, of course, I worry about where other facets of my life are going, too. I'm having a difficult time recognizing myself.
I've gained a LOT of weight in the last two years, or, at least, it feels like a lot. I suppose I don't look as disgustingly obese to others as I feel to myself. I think I have a touch of bulimia- I don't purge, but I do seem to have a distorted body image and a strange relationship with food.
So... I'm dieting AGAIN. And I've been running again, though I know from experience that running will not cause weight loss, no matter how much I do it. No, that is something I'm doing for better health and because I'm hoping it will help with some of my I-feel-like-I-have-rheumatoid-arthritis-but-I'm-afraid-to-get-diagnosed symptoms. (And some combination of the two is helping, though I think what would help MORE is to reduce my stress.)
This is a boring post, but I'm too afraid to actually spill my heart here. The contents of my heart (is it a purse... full of old chap sticks, inky pens, and tampons?) is way too dangerous these days.
And that, I suppose, is why I enjoyed blogging so much back in the day. And why I could say whatever I wanted. When you've got nothing, you have nothing to lose, and opening yourself up risks nothing. Once you start to have things, you start to rein yourself in, and if you have very much, you have to be a clam.
And I am a clam. A festering clam. There may be pearls inside, along with the rot, but I'm too afraid to open myself to see.
Still, I think a NOC nurse lives inside me.
So I'm halfway through my third of four semesters in the nursing program. Graduation looms. And as much as I'm burdened by the homework and deadlines and obligations, I am growing more horrified of what is going to happen after that point with each passing day. Where will I end up, and will I loathe it?
And, of course, I worry about where other facets of my life are going, too. I'm having a difficult time recognizing myself.
I've gained a LOT of weight in the last two years, or, at least, it feels like a lot. I suppose I don't look as disgustingly obese to others as I feel to myself. I think I have a touch of bulimia- I don't purge, but I do seem to have a distorted body image and a strange relationship with food.
So... I'm dieting AGAIN. And I've been running again, though I know from experience that running will not cause weight loss, no matter how much I do it. No, that is something I'm doing for better health and because I'm hoping it will help with some of my I-feel-like-I-have-rheumatoid-arthritis-but-I'm-afraid-to-get-diagnosed symptoms. (And some combination of the two is helping, though I think what would help MORE is to reduce my stress.)
This is a boring post, but I'm too afraid to actually spill my heart here. The contents of my heart (is it a purse... full of old chap sticks, inky pens, and tampons?) is way too dangerous these days.
And that, I suppose, is why I enjoyed blogging so much back in the day. And why I could say whatever I wanted. When you've got nothing, you have nothing to lose, and opening yourself up risks nothing. Once you start to have things, you start to rein yourself in, and if you have very much, you have to be a clam.
And I am a clam. A festering clam. There may be pearls inside, along with the rot, but I'm too afraid to open myself to see.