MFA Creative Writing

I told Mike that I think I'd like to get my degree in creative writing. An MFA to be exact. He was shocked by how much a degree "for fun" would cost and then suggested he take his tuning course where he could meet people in person to learn. I told him he should, and then he just got quiet. Was he not expecting me to agree? I DO think he should take his tuning class in person. If he wants all the best help, learning from someone would be the best way to do it.

I thought that might be the end of it, but then I asked him to help me with writing our bridal gifts thank-yous. He said two or three times, "Why should I write them out if it's you who wants to be the writer in the family." 

That wasn't the point Mike.

Just Doing It

I hate to say it, but some days I am good to go. I'm ready for the challenge. I can take on the world.

And other days, I can't do anything. I'm lazy. I'm depressed. I'm lethargic.

This story isn't really something I'm proud of. In fact, the shame surrounding it makes me hesitant to mention it. However, I honestly believe it changed something for me. And it is important. It's something I need to remember, forever. And sadly, something that I need to be conscientious of the rest of my life.

I've had irregular bleeding since as long as I can remember. On the pill, off the pill, it didn't matter. However, after sex, I always bled. As far back as Kirk, to be honest.

Usually going on the pill fixed the problem, or at least convinced me that it was just breakthrough bleeding. I was wrong.

I hadn't been on the pill since Alex and I broke up. For awhile my period was regular, but then I'd have weird bleeding, sometimes it felt like a period, and other time it didn't feel like anything. However, my saving grace is my imminent departure to India. My bleeding had become so irregular that I decided I HAD to do something about it. There was NO FRICKEN WAY I'd backpack through India having to question what random days I'd end up bleeding.

So in November I went to the gynocologist for my yearly check-up and told him about my issues. I had a Pap and was tested for STI's. All came back normal, so he put me on the pill (again).

Per usual, I bled through the entire first month. It was miserable! I called in, but was told to wait one more month. Finally the beginning of the third month, the doctor decided to do a colposcopy, which is a fancy way of saying an in-depth look at my cervix with a microscope. He found some abnormal cells and did a biopsy of the cells. I wasn't too worried until he called one morning, about a week later to inform me that the bioposy came back as CIN II, caused by HPV.

"HPV?!" I thought. I had a vaccine for that. I thought. It doesn't protect against every strain, and apparently I had somehow contracted it. I was distraught, upset and depressed.

It was suggested that I get a LEEP procedure or wait three months to see how the cells progressed. Most cases (80%) of CIN I goes away on it's own. There's no real data for CIN II, which is pretty scary. So I decided to research the LEEP procedure. They take a metal coil, electrify it, and then scrape a layer of the cervix away. Or I could wait? WTF? An invasive procedure or biding my time?

It was at this point that I finally told my mom and Suzanne. They both suggested I come back home for treatment. Considering the stress levels in my life and regarding the whole "HPV" thing, I readily agreed. I was basically beside myself with worry and whenever people asked me how I was, I made some stupid joke or ignored their queries.

The appointment at home was at the new hospital with a doctor I'd never seen. Her name was Autumn. Seriously? Autumn? I was waiting for Summer and Spring to show up right behind her. However, she was really nice, knowledgeable and spoke with the lead gynecologist. They both thought it extremely "freak-chance" that I came to find out about my condition in the way that I did. However, she recommended a different treatment: cryosurgery. Basically they take a tank of liquid nitrogen, hooked up to a hose of sorts with a metal post at the end. And then they turn on the liquid nitrogen for 60 seconds and hold the metal part to your cervix, while you attempt to avoid the awkward cramping that goes along with it.

I didn't have enough time for the ibuprofen to kick in before the procedure, so I went in unawares. And it wasn't too bad. It sucked. It hurt for about an hour... but more like cramps than anything else. My mom was awesome and supportive, but I had to wait for her to deal with some financial stuff from her thyroid surgery while in a great deal of pain. I wanted to yell at her, but it was all my own fault.

For the next three days, I "melted". My skin on my cervix had frozen, dehydrated and died. So I got to deal with the repercussions of that for a few days. It was so weird to feel "stuff" come out of my body, but have it not be substantial or even visible. It was just water.

So now, I get to wait. It's been a little over a week and a half, but I'm hopeful. I keep telling my body that it is healthy, whole and divinely intelligent. I guess I'll find out in April when I go in for my check-up. So for now, I'm praying, in my own way.

However the scariest part of this whole thing was realizing the other diseases associated with HPV. HIV. I was scared out of my wits. Getting my blood tested was one of the scariest things EVER. Waiting for the results was worse. Thankfully I got those back rather quickly. I'm good, healthy and HIV free. I'm lucky. This entire thing could have been worse.

Come one, Come all, Therapy is for us all
Last night, as I lay me down to sleep,
I dreamt me my soul to keep.
I prayed for divine love. I wished for divine intelligence.
I wanted something to free me from this belligerence.
I was anxous, I wanted to cry.
Instead I hoped to say goodbye.
I want my fears to leave me. I need my dreams to guide me.
I need loved ones to abide with me,
this time I'm spending, which feels like wasting.
This degree I'm getting, my coffin, it feels like I'm casing.
I'm hopeless and wasted up.
Empty is my cup.

So yeah. That's how I was feeling last night. I don't know what exactly overcame me as I was trying to go to sleep. It could have been the nyquil catching up to me. But I had this sense of peace. I don't remember what exactly I had worked out in my head, but something of it had to do with counseling. I don't know why it made me feel safe or relaxed, but I felt that I just had to do it.

When I woke up this morning, I was feeling better. I had hope. I had initiative. So I didn't really feel like calling a counseling center if I wasn't in some huge crisis. But I followed my gut. I called the center three or four times in the morning and got busy signals every time. Beep, beep, beep, beeep. I hate that noise. I figured it was a sign that I didn't really need counseling. So I showered, ate, and realized that life was going to catch up to me.

I was still feeling down and I was still feeling anxious. So on my walk to IGB for our group meeting, I finally made an appointment on the quad. It was really weird though. It was some sort of resignation to my cause. It was a little bit like a sigh, but more of a... what the heck did I get myself into? I've known for awhile that I've needed counseling, but I never was able to do it. I don't know what compelled me to go today.

I walked into the counseling center rather stoic (if not stuffy). I signed in, filled out some forms, and waited, playing jeweled... that dang game!

My counselor Kyle was really nice, and we hit it off right away. I could tell instantly that he was LGBT Ally or gay, but thanks to so many different past experiences, it didn't bother me at all. It wasn't even a positive or negative thought. It just was. It was nice to realize that I'd finally worked through that issue... although I do have a feeling that it wasn't my issue to begin with. I think my dad's homophobia tainted me a little bit, and it took meeting some awesome people to change my mind. Many thanks to Bernie, Trevor, Mary (and KC) and Stephanie. Without them, my perceptions would most likely be quite flawed by it all.

Anyways, after intermittently crying and talking for 2 hours, Kyle suggested group therapy, which is probably a good idea for me. It would help me feel not as alone, but then I usually end up feeling like my problems aren't really that serious, and I should just get over them. I don't know how that will end up working out, but after crying for over an hour, anything has to be better than that. Right?

Some of the things that we touched on were vague. I didn't mention my dad at all until Kyle asked me about him. I was surprised, more embarrassed that I hadn't mentioned him. I guess I take my dad for granted and as long as there is no issue, I don't worry about him at all. I should probably put a greater effort into that relationship, but it's so easy for us. We both love each other a TON and when we are around each other, it's very easy for us to show it. It's the time and connection, not incessant talking.

I told him about Suzanne's past health problems and her engagement. I talked about mom's thyroid cancer, skin cancer, lipomas and chronic sicknesses that have plagued her body since as long as I can remember. I talked about Stacy's body image and self-consciousness, and my concern for her. I talked about my thesis, Bruce and all the anxiety that surrounds it. I even mentioned Alex and Carly. I wasn't planning on mentioning it, but it seemed relevant. I mentioned being kicked out as a kid, and who knows what. It just sort of all came out. Honestly, it was like diarrhea of the mouth. And I probably could have kept going. Thank god he stopped me.

I sort of had this huge big sigh after everything was all over, and he asked me if I felt better. At the time, I just felt, well the same. Sort of numb and tired. I felt like I was starting just one more thing that I'll have to finish. But I was hopeful. So I guess I felt a little better.

When I got back to my apartment, I managed doing dishes, cleaning up, etc. So I guess that was an improvement.

I told Stacy about everything and she was really supportive... in that great way that I offered up what exactly I was comfortable talking about and she responded to just that. She didn't pry and I really appreciate that. I know it's my struggle and journey and I should look to other people for help, but it was nice to know that she's there for me without needing to "understand" and "fix" me. I told her she should join me, just to bring a box of tissues.

I picked up the movie Step Up 3, which was a disgustingly played out drama of dance, love and betrayal. It was moderately decent, and all of us (Susan was there too) gagged at the dopey romantic scene. Oh and Stacy made me dinner. That was pretty sweet of her.

Can I have a catch?

It's hard to forget that day. It was ten days before the beginning of a new school year. It was ten days before I began my official graduate work. And it was 10 days before my 22nd birthday. The sun was shining like only the sun in the mid-west in late summer can shine. It was at an angle, as it was well past noon and the leaves were slightly rustling in the wind that never stops blowing on campus. I was walking the mile towards ARC, the gym on campus reminding my shell of a self that I was happy and healthy and of course, that life would move on. It always moves on, with, or without you. I was at the lowest point on the scale by then. Imagine a 5 foot 10, athletic build of a young woman weighing in barely over 140. I'd stared at my peanut butter and strawberry sandwich earlier in the day trying to convince my stomach that it did in fact want sustenance. It had continued to be a losing battle all summer. But hell, my clothes were loose and I felt sort of like a supermodel, albeit a starved, shaking one. Clad in my black and green flip flops, those silly stretchy black capri yoga pants I could never seem to drop off at Goodwill and my lacy maroon tank-top, I skipped down the stairs to the main floor of the climbing wall and checked in. "Hey Sam! How's that castle problem you've been working on? Figured it out yet?" Frothingham (Froth for short) yelled out from behind the desk. "Not yet. But I'm working on it. I've got a long ways to go." I replied jovially. I still hadn't manged to work past 5.9's and it was a point of contention with myself I'd been working on. "Eh. You'll get it. Let me know if you need any help. I'm belaying later." "You bet! Thanks." I probably would ask him later for a catch, but I wasn't ready yet. I'd use the auto-belay for awhile. I hate depending on other people for help, even if it's expected of me. I walked past a few faces I knew after weeks of climbing and a few people I nonchalantly said hi to. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone and sat down on the bench to get my super tight shoes on and harness-up. I can honestly say whoever thought it was a brilliant idea to wear shoes that cut off circulation even before giving the wearer a blister, climbing; well they were on my list. Sadly I had succumbed to popular convention and had bought a pair of shoes two sizes too small for me. I'd suffered through them all summer. Wincing I stood up and went for the easiest of the auto-belay routes. I had to double check that I'd tied in, because once I had forgotten, climbed up 20 feet and realized my error. I had never instantly become that scared, but down-climbing had been a fete I wasn't eager to duplicate. Climbing up one hold at a time I could feel my muscles warming up and remembering what the whole climbing thing was about. After coming down and choosing one a little harder, my confidence was slowly building and I was ready to attempt the castle problem again. The only problem was I couldn't auto-belay on it. I needed help and hated asking for it. However, in normal climbing fashion, I walked up to a guy I'd seen around in the gym named Andrew and asked if he wouldn't mind belaying me. I offered to reciprocate the favor, but he said he'd already gotten a partner that day. I looked at the guy next to him who seemed almost to slink back on the bench with an intent look on his face. Fine I thought, it's just for this one catch anyways. The partner finally decided to introduce himself as Steve. For all that we would go through later, you'd think I would have remembered what he was wearing, or the overall impression he left on me. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I thought he was kind of short, but that's it. Funny the way memory works. "Nice to meet you", I said in my friendliest voice. I knew I was interrupting the normal two person climbing most people are used to and was anxious to re-attempt my most recent failure; well aside from losing my boyfriend to a tall, Viking-type, blonde skank. Eh, you can't win them all. After we had tied in, and I started climbing, I felt pretty good about myself. I was about halfway up when I reached the crux of the problem. I had to jump just a little bit to reach the next hand-hold, and up until then had continually come up short. It was sort of embarrassing, but everyone has to start somewhere. So I kept at it. This time, I went for it. My other hand slipped almost simultaneously as the other hand went up. I caught the hold I wanted, but lost my feet holds too. I was hanging from my one arm and to be honest, wasn't all that strong to begin with. I felt my shoulder do something quite strange, but didn't think too much of it. I gave up on that route after a few more tries, but got onto two other routes. The longer I climbed, the more my shoulder hurt. Eventually my pain threshold was reached and I said goodbye to the two guys and thanked them for climbing with me. I begged off more routes on account of my shoulder and went for a run instead. I flew up the two flights of stairs up to the running track that circled the majority of the building. I loved the expansive windows and the ability to check out the fitness class rooms, weight lifting area, outdoor pool and the indoor basketball courts. In the same moment I could feel completely alone and independent and yet an integral part of the campus machine. I laced up my shoes, did a quick stretch, and was off, running like a hamster blissfully unaware that it's going nowhere. Unaware that fate had other plans for me, I enjoyed the sun dipping toward the horizon and a good beat in my iPOD. I almost tripped over Steve on my 5th lap. I still think he almost ran into me to get my attention. "Hey. I just moved on to campus and don't really know anyone. I was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a drink or food later on." he asked, without a hint of awkwardness. For the life of me, I had no idea why he'd want to get to know me of all people, but I agreed to give him my number and make plans later. I didn't have my phone on me, so it rang in the locker rooms somewhere. With nothing left to say, I took off to finish my run and he disappeared. I didn't even watch him go. Who was he anyways? What use were MBA students in the first place? Just guys with overstuffed egos! That's who.

the marine - intro

It all happened so fast, faster than I was ready for. In fact, I didn't know, couldn't have seen it coming. See, I had just broken up with my cheating ass-hole of a now, ex-boyfriend. To say I was devastated is probably the largest understatement in the world. I had lost about 20 pounds out of despair and disbelief. How could he do that to me? I still saw him almost daily at the lab I worked in, and could barely get up in the mornings. I shook constantly and had only survived thanks to my two best friends, Kayla and Darius. They basically lived with me that summer. And then Kayla left for graduate school and Darius moved out. I was still trying to hold it together. I went through the motions of a life I was slowly piecing together. It was so long ago, I wonder if I even remember it.

Back In the USA

So I've been back in the states for two weeks now. Things have been going OK, but I feel empty, lost. This world isn't my world. But I don't have a world that I fit into. However, I'm not going to write anything else for tonight. I'm tired. But maybe tomorrow, I'll scribe down my adventures from India. It'll explain the end of April, May and the beginning of June. The most consistently I've written in ages... maybe ever. But then again I had a lot to say and lots of time to say it in.