The relationship between sleep, stress, God, and me.

When I worked at MPHA I was averaging 6-8 hours of sleep. My mental stress level was through the roof, but physically I was fairly unstressed. I was yawning ALL the time. There was no such thing as getting "caught up".

Now I average 9-11 hours of sleep. My mental stress level is of a different nature, but definitely had some emotional moments recently, also my body is feeling the effects of my new job.

I think if it were not for my sleep, I'd be off the deep end right now. I wouldn't be able to keep juggling.... the last straw would have been today...

At 7:15 am (not a time I'm usually awake for anymore) my phone rang. Twice. After deciding it must be important if they tried twice, I got up and called back. It was Julie and Jessica. Crying. Jessica's eyesight is fluctuating due to all the changes and she's retaining water to the point of having a visibly poofy face. This morning she couldn't see her mother standing in front of her, let alone herself in the mirror, but could feel the tightness in her skin indicating the poofy-ness had not gone down. She didn't want to go to school. Julie couldn't stay home from work. Neither felt terribly great about Jess staying home alone. They needed someone else to tell them what to do. I told Julie I thought Jess should go to school. Jess refused to talk to me. Not the best way to start the day.

At 12:35 pm my phone rang again. I was in my car with Leah (former coworker at MPHA) going out for lunch. This time it was Mom calling. She wanted to let me know that Tootie would be doing radiation again. Why? My guess was that her second round aimed at her lungs and liver hadn't done the trick. I was wrong. This time the radiation will be aimed at her brain. She's developed tumors there too. Oh, and the last round aimed at her lungs and liver? Well, that didn't do as well as hoped either.

Oddly enough, when I think about Tootie, it's Kanye West that comes to mind. To quote his song Jesus Walks, "I wanna talk to God, but I'm afraid 'cause we ain't spoke in so long..." Frankly, my belief in the existence of a God has been at question lately. Maybe it's all a big coincidence? Big Bang, nothing more?

Honestly, I believe it was a Big Bang, but I want more too. I want love to exist outside of my brain, outside of such a fallible being. I want love so big it can hold the Big Bang, lung cancer in a smoker, and a broken hearted little girl searching for meaning.

What does "my type" mean, anyway?

So my last post was about Alex. That didn't go so well. I ended it after the first date. He was not my type. So, what is my type?

Not Alex.
Not Wade.
Not Cameron.
Not Andrew.
Not Erik.
Not Eric.
Not Neal.
Not Chris.
Not Scott.
Not Josh.

You'd think I'd have it narrowed down by process of elimination. You'd be wrong. I think I am destined to kiss every frog that hops into my pond. Who knows if any of them will ever be a prince.

My experience with Dave is intriguing to me. Mostly because the date with him is making me ask questions of myself. Honestly, I don't know if I'd even "see" him if he were walking down the street (if I hadn't already met him). I know what I was thinking when I did meet him, and I am ashamed of myself for it. I judged him as too dorky, too introverted, and too not-cool. What am I? Captain of the cheerleading squad? Is that part of the high school experience something I want to repeat? Who am I to judge? Apparently I'm a judgmental bitch on occasion.

I like to think of myself as an open-minded, free of prejudice, lover of people. I think I like to put myself on a pedestal. It's time to step down. I have faults. It's not always about the other person. Sometimes, it's about me too. Rather than looking for what is wrong with the other person all the time, I need to start putting some of that effort into seeing my own contribution to the problem.

To my own credit, I have overcome a lot to get where I am. Sometimes it feels like I've come so far that there can't be any further to go, but that is wrong. You are far from perfect, honey.

Love is a simple thing?

Love

Jessica was in the hospital today. She has diabetes. It might be the type that requires shots of insulin to live. Scary.

I'm glad I was there to support her. I felt like I might be the only one who was there for her. Darin left. Julie was wiped out, plus way too worried about how she was going to deal with all of the changes in diet, routine, etc. Paula came to visit, but spent the time acting better than the rest of us and deriding Julie. Others made quick phone calls, sent flowers, asked how it was going, but nobody else was able to just be with Jess. Given not everyone happens to live less than 2 miles away from the hospital and doesn't work on Tuesdays. Anyway, I felt like I did a good job of showing my love today.

Love is a simple thing.