my body.

“I do love my body…  Just not the parts that I don’t think should be there.”

-Me, after spending an afternoon shopping for dresses at the mall with Rachel.

Seriously…

A phone conversation:

Boy:  I have a headache.  Nurse me back to health.

Me:  Take some Tylenol and a nap.

Boy: How about you rub my temples?

Me:  I’m a little far away for that.  See if your mom will do it.

 

This is yet another fine example of why I will most likely be single for the rest of my life.

 

Seriously, though?  Is this all there is to dating and flirting?  Because, if it is, the whole relationship thing just seems like a waste of time…

…no longer…

The technology gurus on campus have temporarily blocked access to Facebook on all computers linked to the college’s network.  My laptop, most unfortunately, happens to be among these, and therefore is restricted from accessing the aforementioned social networking site. 

The tech guys claim that Facebook  is allowing for the spread of viruses amongst computers.

All I know is that I can no longer play Bejewelled Blitz or stalk anyone. 

Does anyone else see a problem with this?

Baby-Making Machine.

Making small talk at church last night, someone asked me what I’m planning on doing after I graduate in May.  I told him that, eventually, I’d like to go back to school and become a NP, but, as it stands, I’ll probably work a few years in a local hospital until I get comfortable with myself and my nursing skills.  The man I was talking with encouraged me not to wait too long before returning to school, because…

“You’re a pretty girl and it won’t be long until someone snatches you up and you start popping out babies.”

Um…  I don’t really think this is an appropriate conversation to be holding in the lobby of my church with an older man that I don’t really know.  The whole thing was really awkward and uncomfortable.  And, I realize that the man most likely didn’t mean it this way, but the conversation also made me angry.  Who says that I have to get married and that I have to have a house full of kids?  Yes, I am a girl, but that doesn’t mean that my sole purpose in life is to get married and become a baby-making machine.  I am more than just a pair of ovaries.  The whole idea that women cannot be complete without children, or  cannot be mothers and simultaneously be successfully employed is a complete load of crap.

Rant finished.  Thank you for listening.

Garbage.

“Remember – Nothing tastes as good as thin feels”

This is one of the many phrases clipped from a magazine and posted on the bulletin board in the women’s locker room at school.  I noticed it tonight, on my way into the college’s pool.

I noticed it, and then I ripped it down.

No one needs to be reading that garbage.

Genetics.

I am slowly coming to the realization that, like it or not, I am pretty much destined to have the Swarthout family hips.

Curse genetics.

Dear God.

I found this the other day, tucked into an old journal.  It’s a letter from me, to God.  There’s no date on it, but that really doesn’t matter. 

 

Dear God,

 I think I want to be angry at you.  I don’t know if I’ve got the right to be angry at you, but I know I want to be angry at something.  And I know you’re big enough to handle my anger right now.

 I don’t feel you.  I don’t know where you are right now, and I’m feeling disconnected and alone.  Where are you?  I’m right here.  I’m waiting.  I’ve been waiting.  Where are you, and why aren’t you doing anything, and what’s taking you so long? 

 Is it my fault?  Am I not good enough?  Do I just not believe enough?  Is my faith not strong enough?  How come I am still stuck here, in the same exact place I feel like I’ve been stuck in for so long?  Why am I not strong enough to change, especially when I want to so badly?

You promised.  You promised that you would not leave me.  And you promised that you would not leave me the same way that you found me. 

Why won’t you do something?  Please.  You promised, and I am trying to be patient and believe, but it’s getting so hard.  Please.  Please, won’t you just do something?  Please.

 

It’s kind of alarming to read it and realize how desperate and lost I was feeling.

It’s kind of amazing to read it and realize that I don’t feel that way any more.

Counting Down.

Coming back to school after Easter break has always been hard for me.  At about this time every year, things reach the point in the semester where the day-to-day routine has become stale and stagnant.  Right now, I’m tired of going to the same classes, sitting in the same rooms, seeing the same people.  Clinical shifts have become boring.  If I have to take one more set of vital signs, or do a head-to-toe assessment on one more pregnant woman…  Even the babies are no longer holding my interest.

I feel like I’ve been quite miserable the last few days.  Nearly to the point where I am answering questions with monosyllabic answers and unintelligible grunts.  It’s not an unhappy sort of miserable.  It’s more of an I-am-bone-tired-and-growing-weary-of-the-same-old-routine-and-desperately-need-a-break-in-spite-of-the-fact-that-I-just-had-one sort of miserable.

Twenty days until the last day of the semester.  Two weeks of classes left.  Two days of clinical.  One week of finals.

Thank goodness.

Can’t Understand It.

Is it ever okay to hate someone?  Because, after three days, that’s still the only emotion I’m coming up with right now.

My grandma’s husband, to whom she’s been married almost two years, is abusive to her.  I found this out on Sunday, when I called her to wish her a happy Easter.  Grandma says he’s more verbally abusive than physically – he’s “only” hit her once.  I hate him.

She won’t leave him.  After they got married, my grandma and Gary moved to the Binghamton area, hours away from us.  She’s completely removed from her friends and family.  On the phone, she told me that she knows that what her husband is doing is wrong – the way he yells and swears and degrades her is wrong – but then, almost in the same breath, she rationalized his actions and excused them all away.  And she won’t leave him.

I don’t know what I’m hoping to get out of writing this post.  I’m trying to process things out-loud, I guess, because I’m not doing such a hot job of keeping it all inside my head.  I just can’t understand it – why my grandma won’t leave, I mean, even though she’s miserable and scared – and I feel helpless and angry and hateful.  I’m not supposed to worry, though; grandma told me that I’m not allowed to worry about her because I’ve “got enough to worry about as it is.”  How can I not worry?

…never hearing me…

Mom:  “Are you going to Holly’s bridal shower, in May?”

Me: “It’ll depend on what day it is; I may not be home for it.”

Mom: “Why?  Where are you planning on going?”

Me: “I’m going to Guatemala in May, remember?”

Mom: “You’re going to Guatemala this May?”

I thought that she was joking at first, and then I realized that my mom was not.  I wish she wouldn’t forget so much of what I tell her.  It seems like we have the sort of conversation detailed above on a semi-regular basis.  When my mom forgets little things, it’s easier for me to be understanding about it…  but the fact that her daughter is going to a third-world country is not such a little thing, and it makes me angry that she didn’t remember about my trip.  Goodness knows we’ve argued over it enough, and she’s told me countless times that she absolutely does not want me to go.

It makes me angry because, in part, I’m certain that it’s not so much a matter of my mother forgetting the things I tell her, but a matter of her never hearing me to begin with.  I feel like she doesn’t listen to me.  She doesn’t know what’s important to me, or any of the things that I care about.  Sometimes, I feel like I am invisible.