Fight from the Inside

"You gotta fight from the inside.

Attack from the rear.

You gotta fight from the inside.

You can't win with your hands tied."

-Queen

There are two things you should know about me if you don't already:

1. I don't like fighting.

2. I'm a fighter.

I don't have any idea why you'd find that confusing. Just because I don't like to fight doesn't mean I won't. I feel that I fall into that category of "I'll never start a fight but I'll finish it for you." I don't like when people come at me swinging and as a result I do a great job of flying off the handle.

I lay awake tonight for two separate events stirring in my brain. Through a mess of frantic thoughts, tears, and sad song playing- I've decided to blog about them. I've realized that the common link between the two is, obviously, fighting.

Event 1:

I've got a list of personal rules that I try to follow very strictly. Why? When I don't stick to my own rules I usually get to deal with fun things like guilt, grief, anger, and other roller coaster emotions. I know myself well enough to know that I suck at processing these emotions so I try to steer clear of situations that will ignite them. Unfortunately, I recently had an experience where I made a poor decision and it has resulted in quite a fabulous predicament. I have unintentionally let someone walk all over me in a personal relationship. For the past few days I've been stewing over this because I think it's an important thing to bring up because I do feel I was lied to and used. The problem is I do foresee a positive relationship with this person and I really don't want to create a mess if it's unnecessary. As the days pass I get more upset that I've let another day go by without letting this person know how I feel about their lie. Lying is a big freaking deal. There is no way to bring up this topic without it being a "big freaking deal." So, like a coward, I haven't brought up the topic because I don't want to fight. As I sit here and type this blog I'm getting pissed at myself because I'm not standing up for myself. I've been creating a negative feeling about this person and not giving them the opportunity to remedy this situation because I'm not willing to fight for and stick up for myself. Coward.

Event 2:

There are approximately 6ish days until September. If you read every blog, have stolen my diary, or have listened to me vent at all- September is the toughest demon I wrestle every year. Last year was no different and the 1 year anniversary of my invincibility cape falling off is just around the corner. I'm not ready.

Currently, I'm unemployed. I've got many jobs being thrown at me but I know what I'm worth and I know what is best for me so I'm not willing to settle on just any job. Technically speaking, I've spent my whole "adult" life on my career. I am, and know I am, a Badass at my job. My career is going to jump back on track in a short while and I'll be cruising again. Which is pretty stinking important because let's be honest- My damn career is ALL I have. Ya, ya, ya I've got my friends, family and Nova but other than that I have my... CAREER! Lately I've been feeling like I poured myself into this gig I've got and into nothing else that I dream about. I haven't tried really hard to find a sidekick, have children, build a family, or plan for the future. I've just let that part of my heart be pushed aside. When November finally arrives I'll be turning 28. As I sit here and think about where I once thought I'd be I'm sad to think that I'm behind "schedule." It was only a year ago where I told myself that I'd fight every.single.day for the life I hope and dream about. How did I forget? How could I have just given up so easily? It's true, I'm afraid of a social timeline. Even worse- I'm not following my dreams. Coward.

As I lay here thinking about how everything I want most is out of reach, I realize it's time to start a fight. I'm going to dive in without goggles and kick my legs with all I've got. I'm going to peddle as fast as I can while I ring my bell at cars. I'm going to yell, scream, bite, kick, and roar as loud as I can. I'm going to start a fight...

"You're in a lion fight. Just because you didn't win doesn't mean you didn't roar."

Peace Out 2009

"The broken clock is a comfort.

It helps me sleep tonight.

Maybe it can stop tomorrow,

from stealing all my time. "

- Lifehouse "Broken"

Disclaimer: As you've recently read, I am a big celebrator of life. I love to laugh, smile, sing in the car, be with the people I love and soak up every aspect of life. With that said- F Off 2009! GOOD RIDDANCE! This blog is not to whine and cry about a horrible year but is to inspire a better year to come.

You know- 2009 started off as the best year EVER! I found myself on a cruise ship outside of St. Thomas as the magical ball dropped in NYC, kissing 2008 away and kissing 2009 hello. Honestly, the best New Years I've ever experienced. Two thousand and nine was going to be great- I had visions of private practice, homeowner-ship, offers to research therapy products, moving trucks, travel, a growing relationship, family coming to visit, and every awesome second that I got to spend with those I care for! I couldn't wait!

Then I got my ass dumped the weekend before Valentine's Day. No one wants the girl next door- they say they do but most want some spontaneous sparkly bombshell of a girl who they can barely hold onto. Which is fine- we all deserve to get what we want. Even though I lack spark and blinding sparkle- I make up for that in personality and overall fucking amazing. As you read on you'll find some recanted statements from a few men... HA!

Anyway- pack up and move on. As I've said before- Accept.Adapt.Overcome. And for the most part I did. Started dating again, made some great new friends, and really got a chance to explore Charleston now that I wasn't away every weekend. My family came to visit and I'm pretty sure they couldn't understand why I love this city so much but I feel the same way about Massachusetts so we're even.

As you know, about 2.5-3 months of dating Mr. Awesome he decides its completely normal to run off and elope with a girl he's known 2 weeks. Again- she's a model and total party girl. See- BLINDING sparkly and a roller coaster. EVERYONE wants a roller coaster ride. Not me. Good Luck. And still I sit here and wonder... Canoe vs. Kayak?

So my contract was up at work and I had already declined to move to Greenville, SC to work for some heavy hitters so I took the offer to work at my same location for the following year. I figured that I'd be ready for anything given my previous year of legal issues and exploding cases. Ha. I was wrong. I applied for my national certification, my C's (aka the Golden Ticket), then applied for my state license. Apparently my "interpretation" of the date I started at wasn't the same "interpretation" that the state had in mind. I was given a "choice" of fraud or illegally seeing clients. Both of which are against my code of ethics and that I'd be stripped of both my state license and national certification, translation: I'd never be able to work again in the United States again if after my hearing they took my certifications etc. So what did I do? Called my last boyfriends Law Firm... and hung up. Then I called again... and hung up again. Got together with some friends that have grown to be more like family, Austin and Katie, and poured out my situation to them. Katie had the same "rip the roof" off mentality I had. Austin on the other hand told me to stop being such a northerner and sweet talk them and write as many apology letters as possible before calling The Law Firm and actually speaking to someone. I was also advised to stop calling and hanging up on people because "it's rude." So I took the "Austin Road" and wanted to throw up with humiliation the whole way. But- he was right, it was all "a big misunderstanding." Which it was, after all, a misinterpretation of dates. Lesson Learned: If you can lose your license/certification over a date then imagine what else you can lose it over. I document EVERYTHING. Even how many stickers I give out...

Work roller coaster ended and I was happy to get off that sucker. It was time to get ready for Melissa's wedding extravaganza! Lots of events were coming up in the next few months so I had to buckle down. Woke up one morning ready to tackle the world and felt a lump on my breast. The "this can't be happening" moment was lost with my stubbornness to carry on as if nothing was wrong. Others lives were growing out of control with happiness and mine was drowning in negative events. Scheduled my lump removal for the first week of November so that I could concentrate on all of the wedding excitement.

Like I've said... September is my worst month! Grr.

Woke up the morning of Melissa's wedding, for lack of a better explanation, paralyzed. I had a sharp, paralyzing pain shooting from behind my ear and down my neck. So painful that I was seeing stars and passing out. I take pain well, and you'll agree if you've ever seen my tattoo. After some excruciating moments I made it to the chapel, doped up on painkillers, and was able to party the night away. The next morning it took me about 2 hours to get out of bed. To the Emergency Room I go. Do they find anything? No, but they gave me some great painkillers. After seeing what I thought was a specialist- I'm told that my vertebrae is literally crushing nerves and that its crazy that I've gone this long without pain. After FREAKING out I decided to go for a second opinion which has recently unveiled that there is nothing wrong with my spine. Phew.

Had my "lump" removed. Benign. Had my stitches removed. And that's all I'm going to say for now. Where is an ambulance chaser when you need one? Document, Document, Document! Cool Fact- I have been wearing a band aid since November 2, 2009. BEAT THAT NELLY!!! The other cool fact is TMI for the manly readers of this blog. But I am FINALLY starting to heal and grow scar tissue. Ugly scar tissue- but it's growing and has pretty much fully closed. I have decided to give up my extracurricular streaking as I am kind of self conscious about my scar. Sorry Boys.

There is no need to get into my horrible flight experiences of 2009 since at this point I think its honestly ME that attracts such events. But I did have to have an in-depth eye exam yesterday. This summer I got my eyes examined for the first time since 2001 and my doctor noticed that I have a very large optic nerve which is a red flag for Glaucoma patients. This meant nothing to me but I scheduled a specialty appointment anyway. Well, I finally went to that appointment. After failing a visual fields test twice and almost identically, very large pupils, measuring my optic nerve, and taking pictures it looks like I'm going blind. (This is my diagnosis). I have been assured and promised that I won't go blind because we'll monitor this and watch the transformation of my optic nerve and friends every few months. During the first sign of changing I'll go on drops that allegedly prevent the total blindness that my optic nerve is headed towards. This is something common in patients over 60. I just turned 27. I blame 2009 for this.

In closing I'd like to tie back in with my first "woe is me" paragraph. The girl next door. None of you want her until you wake up one day and realize that's all you've ever really wanted. That you were too cool for school and thought the sequined covered roller coaster ride was a life long bundle of joy. You didn't take into account that drunken fights at 2am in the middle of the street weren't so sparkly. That someone who is off their rocker wouldn't be someone you'd want to raise your children. No, you didn't think about how there is just no depth and heart to that glitter covered girl. You were too wrapped up in the games and stupidly mesmerized by the chase. So what do you do? You call the girl next door, 3 years later, and tell her you've made a mistake and she's "the one that got away." Well- we've already known this. We always have. And you're a fool for waiting 3 years to say something you knew after you let the words "goodbye" leave your mouth.

Peace Out 2009.

Stay Tuned for my 2010 Resolutions and Life List contributions! I'm soooo excited to post a written list of goals, hopes, and dreams to work towards! Especially after this post! As much as this post sounds full of spite its more of a way to let go of 2009 and its heartaches and to close the door behind me. Thank you to those I love who have picked me up, made me laugh, and helped to heal my soul with every speed bump, road block, or train wreck. All of my perfect moments in 2009 were thanks to you. All my love, all the time. Always Always.

"In the pain...there is healing."

-Lifehouse

Fight for Your Life...Every.Single.Day...

...Even if you aren't losing it.

"...Troubles they may come and go

But good times, they're the gold.

Just steady as we go..."

Dave Matthews Band

Part I

I don't think there is a person in the world who didn't once upon a time feel invincible. Myself included, I have walked through life doing the same old "it can't happen to me" dance as I play in traffic. Whether you've run away from home in the middle of the night, jumped off the monkey bars, ate cat food, or rode your "Tricycle of Doom" off a cliff in an attempt to fly- we've all felt invincible.

I've heard stories, from those I love, about the moment they felt that magical invincibility cape slip off. Still, like an idiot, I walked around feeling more aware of the dangers of life but not feeling any close brushes with the casualties of it all.

Everyday we wake up in SHOCK that our alarm is going off. Pissed off that it's Monday. Enraged that there's traffic. Upset that there's no coffee. Frustrated with our Blackberry's screaming off all the tasks we've got to do for that day. Wait... in SHOCK that our alarm is going off? Or in shock that we've made it another day? You mean you don't wake up happy? Happy that you've woken up?

Then one day I woke up. It was September- notably the worst month in my 26 years of existence. I wasn't in shock from my alarm clock going off. I wasn't pissed it was Monday. And my Blackberry was just a noise in the background of the sound of my heart pounding. I felt something. Something hard. Something I was trained to check for. Something that I knew didn't belong. Something that couldn't happen to me. For the rest of the day I pretended like this "something" was nothing. For those of you who don't personally know me- I WILL call 911 if there is a splinter under my skin- I have a PHOBIA of things sitting in me that don't belong. I got home from work and Googled my brains out. I woke up a million times that night talking myself out of this paranoia. Then I truly woke up. Made an appointment for this strange "bump" on my Tata behind a mole. After a rushed appointment- a date and time was set to remove this unwelcome part of me.

The first thing I did? Nothing. I didn't tell anyone. Not my parents, my sister, my brother or my best friend. I let them know I was getting a mole removed but that was the extent of it. Selfish? Maybe- but I had to do some serious thinking on my own before my thoughts were crowded with other peoples fears. The first thing I decided was that I'd be fine. No matter what happens- I'd be fine. The second thing I decided was that I wouldn't tell anyone of my lumps existence until it was out of my body. My third decision was that if my biopsy comes back malignant then a double mastectomy it is. Pardon my French but I don't fuck around. I'm a few weeks shy of 27 and not only single but haven't come CLOSE to finding "the one" so CLEARLY these babies haven't been carrying their own weight anyway! After some research I did find that it wasn't absolutely necessary or needed for me to excommunicate the girls. But still...

So after I played bridesmaid in my dear friend Melissa's wedding and strutted my tiger stuff around Savannah- I went under the knife. I remember when we were in the bridal suite, Melissa, kept fearing the nervous pee syndrome. I sat in the waiting room and went to the little girls room 5 times before they brought me into my room. As I sat in my skimpy little half cloth, half paper outfit on the cold table I thought- This is just fan-fucking-tastic. In here, literally freezing my boobs off, about to possibly dive straight into Hell. I will never forget the sound my pea sized lump made when it hit the pan. If my educational background wasn't so physics enriched I'd have thought you could hear that thud across the world. It was the sound of my invincibility cape falling to the ground. It was the sound of time stopping. Life halting. In the same breath it was the sound of freedom from this evil thing that had taken up space in my body- uninvited.

As the doctor singed "bleeders" and sewed me up, I realized I had new decisions to make now that this demon was gone from my body. She began to say that they'd have the biopsy results in 7 days and that no decisions would be made until then. I decided she was already wrong. I had 7 days of waiting. I could sit around coming apart at the seams or I could live my life as I normally would doing the things that make me happy. I chose to take a deep breath, put on a Snoopy Band aid, and be as normal and happy as possible. If the results came back cancer free, GREAT! I'll have just lived my life as I would any other day. If the results came back that the lump was indeed life altering- those were the last normal 7 days of my life. Ever. This was important to Me. So I asked the doctor to see what came out of Me. She chuckled and showed me. I asked her how many stitches she gave me. She smiled and said 13. I said that 13 is a good sign, it's my favorite number. I made my appointment to get my sutures removed. Friday, November 13th. I laughed and smiled. My 27th birthday.

After telling those I love of the news I got mixed reactions. Some angry that I didn't tell them, some shocked that I was able to participate in recent events, and some who freaked out for me. The first few days went fine. By the 11th day of my "7 days" of waiting- I was about to explode. I look in the mirror and want to cry. I look at the ugly developing scar and feel as though I can't breathe. Where is my biopsy?! Finally on Day 11, the day before my Birthday, I got the news. My evil pea sized lump was benign. And then I allowed myself to cry.

Part of me feels guilty for writing this blog. Guilty because I still sit here rattled by the whole event. I sit here looking at my tube of Mederma, dying to go ahead and use it. I sit here and tear up over the thought of this hideous scar on a part of my body that MAKES me a woman. That makes me a BEAUTIFUL woman. I sit here, guilty, for ever feeling invincible.

Part II

I've recently been playing email tag with a new pal and made mention of how important I think it is to fight for your life. I was asked who I aspire to be like- famous, fiction, TV, movie star etc. I racked my brain to think of who I would want to be like. After naming off a selection of people both in the public eye, and in my heart, I explained myself. I don't want to go a day without fighting for my life. I never just want to be the type of person that just sits there and watches my life go by. Just because we're not sitting here dying of a demon or disease doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing everything in our power to fight for our life and make it OURS. I have many sayings that get me through trying times. One is: Accept. Adapt. Overcome. This is a process that I use when trying to get through the harder things my heart is faced with. The other important one is My B's! Don't Bend, Break, or Back Down. I do not, will not, cannot participate in any action of those 3 words. I found myself repeating these 2 sayings throughout those 11 long days. I was ready to do whatever I needed to do to ensure a long and happy life. And I don't see why any other normal day should be different.

To those who read this and have had similar events occur in their life. Be it close calls or actual life crises- I applaud you. For reading through, for fighting, for being here, for smiling, and for everything else you do to fill your days. I've known a few people in my life who have had combinations of difficult childhoods, lost parents, or had something life altering happen to them at a young age. I've heard from many of them that the day they lost their invincibility cape was the day they realized they didn't know how to live their lives. That their perception and overall understanding on how life works was then warped and altered significantly. I realize my experience is minimal and nothing in comparison to the experiences of the strong men and women that I speak of. However, I do know that we've all fought. Whether it was with chemo, in counseling, through rehab, or like me in waiting. No one knows how to live their life. No one. You can travel the world, run off and get married, work your heart out, make millions, shut yourself in your room, or parachute out of a hundred fucking planes. No one knows how to live their life. We're not supposed to. We're just supposed to live it. Whatever that means to YOU is the important part. At the end of the day we just need to go to bed happy that we've lived another day knowing we've fought for our life. Fought by walking the beach at sunset. Fought by kissing the person we love goodnight. Fought by making sure we've laughed. Fought to open our eyes in the morning.

...Fight for Your life. Every.Single.Day.

To those I Love and those who Love Me:

"When the storm comes,

You shelter me.

When I don't say a word,

You know exactly what I mean.

In the darkest times,

You shine on me.

You set me free.

You keep me Steady as We Go..."

-DMB