Reason # 238: They take themselves waaaaaaaaaay too seriously.
For real, seriously, I mean I know I take myself pretty seriously sometimes. Sometimes, I lose my sense of humor, but whatever. The point, is that 99% of the population takes themselves entirely too seriously for their own damn good. Its not healthy. Its why people are dropping dead of heart attacks at 40. My dad may not be in the best shape of his life, but damn it, he's 72, and after getting shot in Vietnam, having a brick thrown at his car (partially destroying part of his face), having two kids after the age of 40, an angina attack (backwards heart attack), triple bypass, diabetes, knee replacement surgery that put him in ICU before it was all overwith, and the latest bout of health problems, he's still alive, kicking and laughing about it all. My dad knows how to laugh and just be happy, no matter how tight things get in his life.
The point of all this, is that the other night, I got full proof that people take themselves way too seriously.
Here's the deal...I don't talk about my job much. Its not the favorite part of my life and dwelling on it after I've left just leaves me way too stressed, which is bad for the jellybean. But, this story is just so...silly, I can't help but share it.
My job involves a drive-thru. Primary reason #1 why it sucks. But, in that drive-thru, I experience more crap from crazy people than the law allows. Here's why people take themselves waaay too seriously.
Me: "Hi, Can I take your order?
Customer: (Engine Roar) "BLOAOIHERKJNBEURIBRT CAN I GET AHDIUGHUIHWEBIUWBERH?"
Me: "Ummm, i'm sorry, can you repeat that for me?
Customer: (still with engine roaring in background) "CAN I GET A NBHEURITHUIWEJHTGJB WITH A COKE?"
Me: "I apologize sir, can you repeat that for me one more time?"
Customer: (engine roar still in full effect) "CAN...I....GET...A...NUMBER...8...WITHOUT ADFIHAUIH...WITH...A...COKE?"
(Hi, i'm not stupid. If you would not park the engine of your car right beside the speaker, I would be able to hear your lousy order. Mmm, k, thanks.)
Me: "I'm very sorry sir, but i'm having a tough time hearing you. Is there anyway you could speak up?"
Customer: (engine roar dies down) CAN...I...GET...A...NUMBER...8...WITHOUT PICKLE...AND...A...COKE?
(Again, not stupid. Please stop speaking to me like i'm 4.)
Me: (Super, super nice voice) Sure, no problem, Total's blah blah blah. Please pull around.
Guy pulls around...Oh great, your Mr. Mid-life crisis, driving a pretty new Chevy Camaro. Just freaking great.
Me: Hi, sir, you're total's blah blah blah.
(I wait, while he gets his money together and proceed to take another order. He leaves his hand hanging out the window with the money in it.)
Me: Hi sir, I can go ahead and take your money. (Waits for him to acknowledge to me, then gently pulls on the money, he turns gives me a dirty look and hands me the money.)
(Process order, get change together and receipt, hand him the receipt, he closes his fist just I go to hand him his change, change bounces off of his hand and on to the ground.)
Me: Oh, I'm so sorry sir. (Customer glares at me and opens his car door without saying a word.)
(I proceed to take another order, then look over and realize the guy is still sitting there and open the window.)
Me: How can I help you sir?
Customer: I hope you didn't scratch my brand new Chevy Camero.
(You have got to be f-ing kidding me. WTF?)
Me: (Looks at car first.) Well sir, it doesn't look like I did, but if I did, I am very very sorry sir. I did not mean to if I did sir.
Customer: You know, you have been EXTREMELY rude to me during this whole entire time.
Me: I'm sorry, sir. I was not trying to be rude to you at all.
Customer: Whatever. (Pulls off to next window.)
Are you freaking kidding me? Would you like to sue me for the cost of the scratch on your car? I make $8.00 an hour and work less than 40 hours a week. Get the f over it!
By the way, he bitched about me to my boss. My boss's response..."Well, she's 7 months pregnant, so it kinda comes with the territory." Haha.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Letting go...
I'm in a complicated stretch of my life right now. My young son, who's newest favorite thing is to shove parts of his body against parts of mine, is arriving in about three months. This is good. I've gotten through the first two trimesters. But this is bad...i'm a procrastinator and I have a ton to do like I said last time and its a bit overwhelming. At least i'm not doing it alone though. That makes life easier.
The biggest thing, out of everything we have to accomplish, besides getting our car fixed (which we are almost there with, yay!), is clearing out four rooms of this house in three months. It used to be five rooms, but in a pure moment of manic nesting syndrome, I dragged my family out to the garage and we cleaned it! Well, most of it. We easily got rid of TWO TRUCKLOADS of crap to the dump and about a truckload and a half of stuff to Goodwill that had been sitting in our garage for the last 22 years or so. We've lived here a long time, since right before D.R was born. Time has not been our friend in terms of accumulation and we are all bad for it. We found old toys (like my Alvin and the Chipmunks doll I got for Christmas 1984 with the pull string on the back that I pulled so much, his voice doesn't work anymore, we chucked him), D.R's stories he wrote back in school (with his overactive imagination, I can't for the life of me figure out why he doesn't try writing...or becoming a lawyer...i still need to have a dictionary beside me to have a conversation with him sometimes), things my mom had meant to send out to her family in South America and about 3 bazillion tool boxes that my dad has. Anyways, we cleaned it. It was weird. It was the most room any of us had seen out there in about 10 years. And, it left us with enough room to shove a queen size bed, a desk and a trunk out there from my room.
Yep, we cleaned my room. Well, we cleared out stuff, how about we say that. My queen size bed was replaced with a California king size bed, that i'm really surprised we fit into my room at all. The mattress is only two years old though, and very comfy. I'm sleeping much better. My desk is gone, which sucks, because I have nowhere to put bills and stuff, but its making me get rid of shit, which is good. I still have a lot of crap that I have to figure out what to do with. I'm getting rid of most of the evening gowns I have, except for two (one for a trash the dress photo shoot and one that I just like and should still fit me once I have the jellybean), I need to organize and pack away my CD collection and then start going through and converting my DVD collection to blu-ray. Plus going through my clothes. Which is gonna be weird, considering I've decided to give MOST of it away that I was wearing pre-pregnancy and start over again when I have the baby. I still have a long way to go, and i'm not sure if I'm going to be done by the time the baby comes. But there are still three other rooms of this house to clean.
Next, is the dining room, which is about 15 years worth of crap from soccer balls to camping equipment, to board games and books. Its gonna take some time, but its a smaller room compared to the garage, so I think it'll work out faster in the end. Then, we gotta clear out the living room, which has pretty much become baby storage stuff. Then, D.R.'s room, who has graciously agreed to move into the living room so that the baby can have his room. Basically, all the cleaning is a method of madness of sorts. And this is boring, I know. But the mess has consumed my life. Its like being underwater, and just wanting to burst up to the surface for air. Its left me consumed in memories when I stumble upon things.
In a real shocker, I've actually gotten rid of photographs. As an amateur photographer, this is so not my style. But, I find in my current emotional state, I'm almost allowing myself to feel emotions other than happiness, and while some of the photos stay because they make me happy, other have to go in the trash because they make me angry. I think its what I knew all along. I clean up my home, maybe i'll clean up the rest of my life. Get rid of other things that make me angry. Learn to continue to be happy with the person I am. I may not have a title, a million dollar paycheck or even a clean room. But I have a family who loves me, a man who cherishes me, faults and all, with no judgement for my past and an adorable little man coming into my life. So, why do I keep holding on the past, besides wanting to remember the good times? Isn't it time to let go of the sadness, the anger? To stop punishing myself for whatever things I did against others that I've already apologized for. To stop allowing myself to feel inferior because I don't have this, that or the other, or don't do things a certain way. I've digressed completely, but I was trying to get here. Its where I've been for months, maybe years. And, its hard to get out of the cycle once you're in it. Once you allow others to allow you to feel inferior, its hard to escape. Its such an easy mold to fit. I'm not this because I don't have that, and I'm not that because I don't do this and I don't love so and so because I do this instead of that. Screw it all. Holding on to photographs that make me upset, doesn't make me a better person. Trying to hold on to things that don't bring back good memories doesn't make me happy. If I'm really going to try to start anew per say, isn't it time to just let it all go?
The biggest thing, out of everything we have to accomplish, besides getting our car fixed (which we are almost there with, yay!), is clearing out four rooms of this house in three months. It used to be five rooms, but in a pure moment of manic nesting syndrome, I dragged my family out to the garage and we cleaned it! Well, most of it. We easily got rid of TWO TRUCKLOADS of crap to the dump and about a truckload and a half of stuff to Goodwill that had been sitting in our garage for the last 22 years or so. We've lived here a long time, since right before D.R was born. Time has not been our friend in terms of accumulation and we are all bad for it. We found old toys (like my Alvin and the Chipmunks doll I got for Christmas 1984 with the pull string on the back that I pulled so much, his voice doesn't work anymore, we chucked him), D.R's stories he wrote back in school (with his overactive imagination, I can't for the life of me figure out why he doesn't try writing...or becoming a lawyer...i still need to have a dictionary beside me to have a conversation with him sometimes), things my mom had meant to send out to her family in South America and about 3 bazillion tool boxes that my dad has. Anyways, we cleaned it. It was weird. It was the most room any of us had seen out there in about 10 years. And, it left us with enough room to shove a queen size bed, a desk and a trunk out there from my room.
Yep, we cleaned my room. Well, we cleared out stuff, how about we say that. My queen size bed was replaced with a California king size bed, that i'm really surprised we fit into my room at all. The mattress is only two years old though, and very comfy. I'm sleeping much better. My desk is gone, which sucks, because I have nowhere to put bills and stuff, but its making me get rid of shit, which is good. I still have a lot of crap that I have to figure out what to do with. I'm getting rid of most of the evening gowns I have, except for two (one for a trash the dress photo shoot and one that I just like and should still fit me once I have the jellybean), I need to organize and pack away my CD collection and then start going through and converting my DVD collection to blu-ray. Plus going through my clothes. Which is gonna be weird, considering I've decided to give MOST of it away that I was wearing pre-pregnancy and start over again when I have the baby. I still have a long way to go, and i'm not sure if I'm going to be done by the time the baby comes. But there are still three other rooms of this house to clean.
Next, is the dining room, which is about 15 years worth of crap from soccer balls to camping equipment, to board games and books. Its gonna take some time, but its a smaller room compared to the garage, so I think it'll work out faster in the end. Then, we gotta clear out the living room, which has pretty much become baby storage stuff. Then, D.R.'s room, who has graciously agreed to move into the living room so that the baby can have his room. Basically, all the cleaning is a method of madness of sorts. And this is boring, I know. But the mess has consumed my life. Its like being underwater, and just wanting to burst up to the surface for air. Its left me consumed in memories when I stumble upon things.
In a real shocker, I've actually gotten rid of photographs. As an amateur photographer, this is so not my style. But, I find in my current emotional state, I'm almost allowing myself to feel emotions other than happiness, and while some of the photos stay because they make me happy, other have to go in the trash because they make me angry. I think its what I knew all along. I clean up my home, maybe i'll clean up the rest of my life. Get rid of other things that make me angry. Learn to continue to be happy with the person I am. I may not have a title, a million dollar paycheck or even a clean room. But I have a family who loves me, a man who cherishes me, faults and all, with no judgement for my past and an adorable little man coming into my life. So, why do I keep holding on the past, besides wanting to remember the good times? Isn't it time to let go of the sadness, the anger? To stop punishing myself for whatever things I did against others that I've already apologized for. To stop allowing myself to feel inferior because I don't have this, that or the other, or don't do things a certain way. I've digressed completely, but I was trying to get here. Its where I've been for months, maybe years. And, its hard to get out of the cycle once you're in it. Once you allow others to allow you to feel inferior, its hard to escape. Its such an easy mold to fit. I'm not this because I don't have that, and I'm not that because I don't do this and I don't love so and so because I do this instead of that. Screw it all. Holding on to photographs that make me upset, doesn't make me a better person. Trying to hold on to things that don't bring back good memories doesn't make me happy. If I'm really going to try to start anew per say, isn't it time to just let it all go?
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
90 days just doesn't feel like enough time...
Actually, if you want real honesty, its 88 days. And it doesn't feel like I have enough time to accomplish everything that I need/want to do.
Here's the breakdown...
Things I need to have accomplished between now and Sept. 11
-Finish Baby registries
-Give mother-in-law info on Snoopy bed set I want
-Finish finalizing details on Baby showers
-Settle on some freaking paint colors and paint the baby's room
-Clear out four rooms of my parents house so we have room for the jellybean
-Get the family van AND mine and the boy's car fixed
-Pre-register at the hospital
-Register me and the boy for child education classes
-Register for a free carseat
-Get pregnancy photographs taken(?)
-Do MORE yoga
-Oh, and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, so that I won't be destitute or contribute to the boy's and jellybean's destitutiness (Is that even a word? I'm making crap up as I go.)
It just doesn't feel like there's enough time to accomplish any of it. Somethings I'm obviously not doing alone. Some of it is not even my responsibility, it just feels like it is, because if I wasn't pregnant, two-thirds of this wouldn't need to happen.
Blarghblooooooghnhbotighfoiehgofihjdsogihdeoi phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht!
Approximately 10 hours later...
Crap! I forgot other stuff...this is why I write everything down in three different places...
Other stuff I need to do between now and Sept. 11
-Get everyone's addresses for the baby showers.
Ok, now I think that's it. PHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!!
Here's the breakdown...
Things I need to have accomplished between now and Sept. 11
-Finish Baby registries
-Give mother-in-law info on Snoopy bed set I want
-Finish finalizing details on Baby showers
-Settle on some freaking paint colors and paint the baby's room
-Clear out four rooms of my parents house so we have room for the jellybean
-Get the family van AND mine and the boy's car fixed
-Pre-register at the hospital
-Register me and the boy for child education classes
-Register for a free carseat
-Get pregnancy photographs taken(?)
-Do MORE yoga
-Oh, and figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, so that I won't be destitute or contribute to the boy's and jellybean's destitutiness (Is that even a word? I'm making crap up as I go.)
It just doesn't feel like there's enough time to accomplish any of it. Somethings I'm obviously not doing alone. Some of it is not even my responsibility, it just feels like it is, because if I wasn't pregnant, two-thirds of this wouldn't need to happen.
Blarghblooooooghnhbotighfoiehgofihjdsogihdeoi phhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhht!
Approximately 10 hours later...
Crap! I forgot other stuff...this is why I write everything down in three different places...
Other stuff I need to do between now and Sept. 11
-Get everyone's addresses for the baby showers.
Ok, now I think that's it. PHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Spinning out of Control...
(I'm writing this about 5 minutes before I start my day long project of reorganization/minimization in my room. This has just been sitting in my mind forever.)
I feel like sometime recently (or maybe longer ago), I lost control of my life.
It all starts with my bedroom/home. I always feel like its organized chaos at best and just pure chaos at worst. Its hard, you have two people living in a 10x12 room, which neither are really happy about at the end of the day. Yes, it would be easier to move out. Financially, we can either afford to move to the ghetto ( and when I say the ghetto, I mean the GHETTO. I've seen it. I'm too white for it. And too girly. And too whiny.), or we would move back into my parent's home in two months (specifically right around when I pop out our little jellybean and i'm out of work). Its not ideal, but its better than any other option we've come up with up until this point. But lately, the organized chaos mostly just makes me want to cry.
I can't seem to find anything, I lose everything all the time and can't find it for days on end. (Seriously, I lost my car keys for a month. And couldn't figure out where they were.) Part of this is short term memory loss, part of this is flat out losing my mind from stress, but most of it is just not devoting enough time to straightening out my life some more.
Some things have changed in my life obviously, and at this point, its not something that's going to change. The little jellybean has very quickly grown into an ear of corn that weighs 1.3 pounds and I only have 109 days left until he shows up (or well, there abouts). I still have to finish registering for the baby showers, settle on paint colors, help reorganize part of the house, paint his room, register for child education classes, put together the crib/changing table/dresser, figure out the whole 3 baby showers thing (because quite frankly, i'm at a loss as to how I ended up with that many to attend, oh yeah, i've lost control of my life!!!!), and thousands of other things. Yet again, I have someone coming into my life who is going to come first. Not that this is a bad thing, its just I need to do some stuff for me before he arrives. (Or as the cute 6 year old proclaimed the other day "flies in").
This whole reorganization thing is not the only thing making it feeling like i've lost control. There are decisions being made in my life about stuff that I've talked about before, but no one really talks to me about it. I've decided to let some of it go, and in some cases make other plans, that will fit more into what I would like to do. This seems to piss people off, but I have gotten really good at unintentionally pissing people off for the last 5 or 6 years, so while there is that whole guilty part in my head, (which I really hate), there's 5 and a half month pregnant me, who just doesn't give two farts anymore. I just hate it...I feel like if I organize one part of my life, maybe I'll be able to organize the rest of it. And I'll feel more prepared when my Jellybean gets here.
So no more messing around, at least for today. I'm not going out, i'm not napping (especially since I have energy right now...at 7am), nothing until I feel like I can breathe in my room. I think that's my problem. So much is going on...working two jobs, semi-job hunting, figuring out this whole pregnancy/mom thing, looking over finances and trying not to cry along with the boy, doctor's appointments, weddings, parties, hanging out with family members, trying to hang out with friends. And yet, again, i'm always trying to be everything to everyone, which never seems to work. And, as my Aunt pointed out to me the other day, "this is all about you and the baby." I have a hard time believing it sometimes, and I very rarely let myself be the center of attention, but I think for once in my life, at least for the next 3 1/2 - 4 months, i'm going to try.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Night and Day...
Everybody has a reason for the way that they are, whether its because of family, friends, experience or time. I just never realized how closely linked my personality is to my family, at least until Mother's Day.
Now, even though I am becoming a new Mommy, i'm still not one yet. So, to celebrate Mother's Day, I got my pregnant butt out of bed and decided to make my mom breakfast! (Also, celebrating the fact that my mom finally came home from Florida, yayyayayayayayayayayayayay!) Somehow, I managed to convince my brother to get his butt out of bed to help me out and the two of us proceeded to cook and clean. I was in the middle of rocking out to Foo Fighters on Pandora and cleaning dishes and giving orders to my brother of what he could do to help clean until we were ready to cook, while the boy peeked in at our progress and generally made fun of my newly developed waddle. (OMG, i'm waddling!!) As we progressed, the boy suddenly stopped me in my tracks with a question..."Why don't you just tell DR what to do all at once, instead of one task at a time?" Both me and my brother stopped what we were doing, looked at each other, and I immediately regressed to the age of twelve.
At twelve, I was not thrilled to have my weeknights and some weekend nights filled with "Play tag with the five year old." Of course, neither of my parents were thrilled to be leaving me in charge of my autistic five year old brother. (We wouldn't find out he actually had a much milder form of Autism, known as Asperger's Syndrome for another 3 years.) But, my father had lost his job, and we didn't have but so many options at the time, so babysitting and cooking, along with homework and making sure DR did kindergarten homework, (Did you color your sheet for school? YES! SEEEEEEEE! Ok, ok!) was part of my life. One particular night, I was desperate to be semi-normal for five minutes of my pre-pubescent life, and really just wanted to watch 90210, and NOT entertain my goofy brother. But, dinner had to be made, the family room was a mess and homework had not even been attempted in my world, (though DR's had been accomplished in 6 minutes...) so I decided to get DR to pitch in and help. I asked him to pick up trash on the floor, put his homework away, and pull out silverware from the drawer, since dinner was almost done. I went back to cooking whatever it was that I was cooking, when 5 minutes later, I heard a wail and ran into the next room to find DR running in circles with a half filled trash bag lying on the floor and tears streaming down his face. There are very few things in the world more terrifying than finding your five year old brother running in manic circles around a trash bag, and there not being any blood you can see coming out of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to catch a glimpse of me, and immediately ran into my arms, crying hysterically. Through the blubber of tears, I managed to catch "Too much...I can't remember." In my effort to treat my brother "normal", (such a crock of crap...nobody's normal) I had overwhelmed him, which, comparatively speaking, is like informing me that I'm in charge of making sure a nuclear power plant doesn't blow up the lower 48 states. I'd be crying and running in circles too. That was the day I learned that not everybody learns the same and not everyone can be expected to do the same thing in the same way.
My brother and I are night and day. I'm talkative, sociable, happy, a multi-tasking, organizational, 3 calenders just to inform me when my baby is coming, giggling, outgoing kind of gal. I'm semi-witty, but mostly just funny on purpose (and accident). DR is introverted, careful, mistrusting of those he doesn't know (for good reason), intelligent, disorganized, messy, one step at a time, would walk out the door without his head if it wasn't attached to his body, observant kind of guy. He's funny when he doesn't try to be, and is actually really great once you get to know him. But getting to know him is like trying to break through a brick wall. I'm practically an open book.
I handle change well, or relatively well for a 27 year old neurotic who tries and fails miserably at planning her life. My brother's life is literally over for 5 minutes if something of importance to him is moved from one room to the next, never mind death, moving to another state or any major life changing event that could happen to any of us at any moment. Yet, he's taught me to not let your neurosis stop you from doing the things you want to do. Harsh reality moment: DR had accomplished more adventures by the age of 19, than I had at 25. Ever hiked 50 miles of the Appalachian trail? I haven't even hiked one. The most accident prone, least athletically skilled out of all of us Flahertys, and he hikes and canoes and swims and falls down the side of mountains. He hiked and canoed 50 miles of the Appalachian trail at age 16. At age 17, he performed at Carnegie Hall, along with 25 of his peers. This is not a person who does well with crowds either. He was courted by MIT, Harvard and countless other prestigious universities and colleges across the United States, well, before freaking out and deciding to stay home and go to school here. He's making plans to hike the whole of the Appalachian trail. He may not have many friends, but the ones he does have, he trusts completely and they understand him completely, neurotic craziness and all.
So, why am I the way I am? Because life has taught me that no ones catches all the good or all the bad. Because my brother is younger than me, but has taught me more than I could ever hope to teach him. Because if my asperger's syndrome brother can accomplish what he has accomplished (which is more than I could ever list), why can't I do the same?
The truth, is that my brother has been the one person in my life who has taught me more about tolerance, acceptance, and understanding than imaginable. He's not perfect, but than again, neither am I , and neither is anyone else. Somehow or another, he turned me into a leader and a pretty good teacher. I have no clue if this is actually going to help me in life, in the end, since I can't seem to find a halfway decent job without moving to Billings, Montana (and I don't like snow THAT much). But it feels like a start. Nothing is ever perfect. But, if you plow through it and keep going, maybe you can walk away with a feeling of satisfaction for the things you have accomplished. Let go of the things you can't control, and be happy with what you have. Strive for more, but be satisfied with what you have done.
Now, even though I am becoming a new Mommy, i'm still not one yet. So, to celebrate Mother's Day, I got my pregnant butt out of bed and decided to make my mom breakfast! (Also, celebrating the fact that my mom finally came home from Florida, yayyayayayayayayayayayayay!) Somehow, I managed to convince my brother to get his butt out of bed to help me out and the two of us proceeded to cook and clean. I was in the middle of rocking out to Foo Fighters on Pandora and cleaning dishes and giving orders to my brother of what he could do to help clean until we were ready to cook, while the boy peeked in at our progress and generally made fun of my newly developed waddle. (OMG, i'm waddling!!) As we progressed, the boy suddenly stopped me in my tracks with a question..."Why don't you just tell DR what to do all at once, instead of one task at a time?" Both me and my brother stopped what we were doing, looked at each other, and I immediately regressed to the age of twelve.
At twelve, I was not thrilled to have my weeknights and some weekend nights filled with "Play tag with the five year old." Of course, neither of my parents were thrilled to be leaving me in charge of my autistic five year old brother. (We wouldn't find out he actually had a much milder form of Autism, known as Asperger's Syndrome for another 3 years.) But, my father had lost his job, and we didn't have but so many options at the time, so babysitting and cooking, along with homework and making sure DR did kindergarten homework, (Did you color your sheet for school? YES! SEEEEEEEE! Ok, ok!) was part of my life. One particular night, I was desperate to be semi-normal for five minutes of my pre-pubescent life, and really just wanted to watch 90210, and NOT entertain my goofy brother. But, dinner had to be made, the family room was a mess and homework had not even been attempted in my world, (though DR's had been accomplished in 6 minutes...) so I decided to get DR to pitch in and help. I asked him to pick up trash on the floor, put his homework away, and pull out silverware from the drawer, since dinner was almost done. I went back to cooking whatever it was that I was cooking, when 5 minutes later, I heard a wail and ran into the next room to find DR running in circles with a half filled trash bag lying on the floor and tears streaming down his face. There are very few things in the world more terrifying than finding your five year old brother running in manic circles around a trash bag, and there not being any blood you can see coming out of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to catch a glimpse of me, and immediately ran into my arms, crying hysterically. Through the blubber of tears, I managed to catch "Too much...I can't remember." In my effort to treat my brother "normal", (such a crock of crap...nobody's normal) I had overwhelmed him, which, comparatively speaking, is like informing me that I'm in charge of making sure a nuclear power plant doesn't blow up the lower 48 states. I'd be crying and running in circles too. That was the day I learned that not everybody learns the same and not everyone can be expected to do the same thing in the same way.
My brother and I are night and day. I'm talkative, sociable, happy, a multi-tasking, organizational, 3 calenders just to inform me when my baby is coming, giggling, outgoing kind of gal. I'm semi-witty, but mostly just funny on purpose (and accident). DR is introverted, careful, mistrusting of those he doesn't know (for good reason), intelligent, disorganized, messy, one step at a time, would walk out the door without his head if it wasn't attached to his body, observant kind of guy. He's funny when he doesn't try to be, and is actually really great once you get to know him. But getting to know him is like trying to break through a brick wall. I'm practically an open book.
I handle change well, or relatively well for a 27 year old neurotic who tries and fails miserably at planning her life. My brother's life is literally over for 5 minutes if something of importance to him is moved from one room to the next, never mind death, moving to another state or any major life changing event that could happen to any of us at any moment. Yet, he's taught me to not let your neurosis stop you from doing the things you want to do. Harsh reality moment: DR had accomplished more adventures by the age of 19, than I had at 25. Ever hiked 50 miles of the Appalachian trail? I haven't even hiked one. The most accident prone, least athletically skilled out of all of us Flahertys, and he hikes and canoes and swims and falls down the side of mountains. He hiked and canoed 50 miles of the Appalachian trail at age 16. At age 17, he performed at Carnegie Hall, along with 25 of his peers. This is not a person who does well with crowds either. He was courted by MIT, Harvard and countless other prestigious universities and colleges across the United States, well, before freaking out and deciding to stay home and go to school here. He's making plans to hike the whole of the Appalachian trail. He may not have many friends, but the ones he does have, he trusts completely and they understand him completely, neurotic craziness and all.
So, why am I the way I am? Because life has taught me that no ones catches all the good or all the bad. Because my brother is younger than me, but has taught me more than I could ever hope to teach him. Because if my asperger's syndrome brother can accomplish what he has accomplished (which is more than I could ever list), why can't I do the same?
The truth, is that my brother has been the one person in my life who has taught me more about tolerance, acceptance, and understanding than imaginable. He's not perfect, but than again, neither am I , and neither is anyone else. Somehow or another, he turned me into a leader and a pretty good teacher. I have no clue if this is actually going to help me in life, in the end, since I can't seem to find a halfway decent job without moving to Billings, Montana (and I don't like snow THAT much). But it feels like a start. Nothing is ever perfect. But, if you plow through it and keep going, maybe you can walk away with a feeling of satisfaction for the things you have accomplished. Let go of the things you can't control, and be happy with what you have. Strive for more, but be satisfied with what you have done.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Fishbowl Uterus...
To truly understand me, you'd have to understand my brain, which I barely understand.
I'm easily amused. Combine that with an overactive imagination and certain ADD tendencies and you have a recipe for pure disaster somedays. It leads me to think about the things I'd like to have if science and reality weren't part of the deal. I.E. Fishbowl Uterus.
My baby is a boy. I thought I was going to be really upset if it wasn't a girl. Truthfully, I'm happy. I already have two surrogate nephews, Peanut (James) and Alex, who I absolutely adore. They are rambunctious, messy and generally entertaining. Peanut is my quiet boy who kind of takes everything in and likes to wrestle and be thrown around by his uncles, but has no issues sitting with me as we dye Easter eggs. Alex is going to be the quizzical one, with his big brown eyes that take in everything and his need to push buttons. God help him, he's a button pusher. My son seems to already have rambunctious tendencies, moving around constantly, bringing his feet to his head so he can play with his toes and leaning against my kidney to remind me that he is there. (Thanks kiddo.) But all those things I know because we saw it in the fuzzy ultrasound or because I can feel it some.
I'm curious. I always want to know how things work, and even more importantly to know what's going on. I was the two year old who would grab her pillow and blanket and curl up on the kitchen floor at night so that I could hear what my parents were doing, so I wouldn't miss out on anything. So, not being able to see what my little boy is doing on a regular basis is driving me nuts! I need a fishbowl uterus, so that I can look down and see what he's doing, how he's moving, how he's progressing and what he looks like. Maybe I could start teaching him stuff early like how to wave and smiling and making funny faces. Of course this is all in my dreams. But it would be awesome.
Truthfully, the more I learn about him, the more I want him to come out, so I can hold him and take care of him and play with him. Surprisingly, I'm more and more ready for him to come everyday.
I'm easily amused. Combine that with an overactive imagination and certain ADD tendencies and you have a recipe for pure disaster somedays. It leads me to think about the things I'd like to have if science and reality weren't part of the deal. I.E. Fishbowl Uterus.
My baby is a boy. I thought I was going to be really upset if it wasn't a girl. Truthfully, I'm happy. I already have two surrogate nephews, Peanut (James) and Alex, who I absolutely adore. They are rambunctious, messy and generally entertaining. Peanut is my quiet boy who kind of takes everything in and likes to wrestle and be thrown around by his uncles, but has no issues sitting with me as we dye Easter eggs. Alex is going to be the quizzical one, with his big brown eyes that take in everything and his need to push buttons. God help him, he's a button pusher. My son seems to already have rambunctious tendencies, moving around constantly, bringing his feet to his head so he can play with his toes and leaning against my kidney to remind me that he is there. (Thanks kiddo.) But all those things I know because we saw it in the fuzzy ultrasound or because I can feel it some.
I'm curious. I always want to know how things work, and even more importantly to know what's going on. I was the two year old who would grab her pillow and blanket and curl up on the kitchen floor at night so that I could hear what my parents were doing, so I wouldn't miss out on anything. So, not being able to see what my little boy is doing on a regular basis is driving me nuts! I need a fishbowl uterus, so that I can look down and see what he's doing, how he's moving, how he's progressing and what he looks like. Maybe I could start teaching him stuff early like how to wave and smiling and making funny faces. Of course this is all in my dreams. But it would be awesome.
Truthfully, the more I learn about him, the more I want him to come out, so I can hold him and take care of him and play with him. Surprisingly, I'm more and more ready for him to come everyday.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
You Don't Realize How Good You've Got It, Till You DON'T Have It...
Unfortunately, I'm a statistic.
No, this did not occur because of pregnancy, though that did make the issue more front and center. I am one of millions of Americans who has gone without health insurance for an extended period of time. 5 very long years to be exact. I was a snot before that point too. I took my health insurance coverage for granted. I didn't just have coverage, I had it good. Once I was old enough to know, I still didn't appreciate it. I didn't pay for medicine, I very rarely paid for doctor's appointments, I never paid more than 30 bucks for a visit to the emergency room (and believe me, I've had A LOT of those). I was a navy brat.
Things started going downhill sometime around my junior year of college. That's when I hurt myself so badly that yet again I had to go to the emergency room. That summer, I started receiving the bills from the hospital, informing me I owed $800!!! OMG, how the hell does a broke ass college student pay for that?! Simple, with a credit card! But then my dad wanted to know why insurance hadn't covered it. Some quick research to discover that more or less because I had to go to a non military hospital, they weren't obligated to pay the bill without months and months of red tape. The reason why they could get away with this was because I had entered limbo being over the age of 23 AND still in college, but they didn't have to cover me anymore, so basically they were looking for anyway possible to get out of paying this $800 bill. Somehow, my dad talked to the right people and they managed to extend my coverage for one more year, but that after that year, I would no longer be covered by my parent's health insurance. My parents assured me this wouldn't be a big deal, we would find a way to get me coverage.
Fast forward to a year later and me and my mom sitting at my parent's auto insurance company which also could provide health insurance. We filled out the forms and then sat and waited for a month, only to discover that I had been denied health insurance because of a pre-existing condition. That "condition" is me being overweight. Yup. You read right. I was denied health insurance that I (and my parents) were willing to pay for because I weighed too much and was considered a health risk. Now, don't give me the crap about defending the health insurance companies because it drives up their premiums and I am a health risk. I know I'm a health risk. So is my 72 year old father with diabetes and my 20 year old brother with asthma. The problem comes in that I'm willing to pay for insurance and this company was unwilling to cover me because I didn't fit into their "standards" of health. Just because you have factors that put you at risk, doesn't mean you don't have the right to have access to health care. Nothing is more shell shocking though, than being told that you basically don't have that right. Because there is almost nothing in this country more expensive than actually going to get health care.
I spent 5 long years doing my best to avoid being sick, toughing out the sickness against my own better judgement and having myself and my parents sink at least $2000 into hospital bills when I couldn't avoid going to the hospital all together. (A reason I'm hoping my child will NOT be accident prone. Mostly, because its no fun to have scars all over you. Though at least you have stories.) My primary care physician did the best she could for me, seeing me when she could and charging me bare minimum prices when I did have to go see her. Mostly, I avoided it as best as I could because I just can't afford it. I literally could not afford to get sick or hurt. That is one of the most frightening feelings in the world. And it was something I felt all the time for 5 long years.
One of the reasons it felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath me when I found out I was pregnant, was because I had NO idea how we were going to pay for all of the costs of this. But the clothes and the this and the that for the kid didn't phase me. That will always get figured out. But I could see me and the boy being in debt for the rest of our lives and never being able to get anywhere, because neither of us have health insurance and how are we going to pay for this?! I knew it was expensive to have a kid, but truly didn't know until I went to see my baby doctor and they gave me the breakdown of how much this was going to cost if I paid for it all myself...
No, this did not occur because of pregnancy, though that did make the issue more front and center. I am one of millions of Americans who has gone without health insurance for an extended period of time. 5 very long years to be exact. I was a snot before that point too. I took my health insurance coverage for granted. I didn't just have coverage, I had it good. Once I was old enough to know, I still didn't appreciate it. I didn't pay for medicine, I very rarely paid for doctor's appointments, I never paid more than 30 bucks for a visit to the emergency room (and believe me, I've had A LOT of those). I was a navy brat.
Things started going downhill sometime around my junior year of college. That's when I hurt myself so badly that yet again I had to go to the emergency room. That summer, I started receiving the bills from the hospital, informing me I owed $800!!! OMG, how the hell does a broke ass college student pay for that?! Simple, with a credit card! But then my dad wanted to know why insurance hadn't covered it. Some quick research to discover that more or less because I had to go to a non military hospital, they weren't obligated to pay the bill without months and months of red tape. The reason why they could get away with this was because I had entered limbo being over the age of 23 AND still in college, but they didn't have to cover me anymore, so basically they were looking for anyway possible to get out of paying this $800 bill. Somehow, my dad talked to the right people and they managed to extend my coverage for one more year, but that after that year, I would no longer be covered by my parent's health insurance. My parents assured me this wouldn't be a big deal, we would find a way to get me coverage.
Fast forward to a year later and me and my mom sitting at my parent's auto insurance company which also could provide health insurance. We filled out the forms and then sat and waited for a month, only to discover that I had been denied health insurance because of a pre-existing condition. That "condition" is me being overweight. Yup. You read right. I was denied health insurance that I (and my parents) were willing to pay for because I weighed too much and was considered a health risk. Now, don't give me the crap about defending the health insurance companies because it drives up their premiums and I am a health risk. I know I'm a health risk. So is my 72 year old father with diabetes and my 20 year old brother with asthma. The problem comes in that I'm willing to pay for insurance and this company was unwilling to cover me because I didn't fit into their "standards" of health. Just because you have factors that put you at risk, doesn't mean you don't have the right to have access to health care. Nothing is more shell shocking though, than being told that you basically don't have that right. Because there is almost nothing in this country more expensive than actually going to get health care.
I spent 5 long years doing my best to avoid being sick, toughing out the sickness against my own better judgement and having myself and my parents sink at least $2000 into hospital bills when I couldn't avoid going to the hospital all together. (A reason I'm hoping my child will NOT be accident prone. Mostly, because its no fun to have scars all over you. Though at least you have stories.) My primary care physician did the best she could for me, seeing me when she could and charging me bare minimum prices when I did have to go see her. Mostly, I avoided it as best as I could because I just can't afford it. I literally could not afford to get sick or hurt. That is one of the most frightening feelings in the world. And it was something I felt all the time for 5 long years.
One of the reasons it felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath me when I found out I was pregnant, was because I had NO idea how we were going to pay for all of the costs of this. But the clothes and the this and the that for the kid didn't phase me. That will always get figured out. But I could see me and the boy being in debt for the rest of our lives and never being able to get anywhere, because neither of us have health insurance and how are we going to pay for this?! I knew it was expensive to have a kid, but truly didn't know until I went to see my baby doctor and they gave me the breakdown of how much this was going to cost if I paid for it all myself...
$2000 - covers up to 15 prenatal visits
Vaginal delivery
Physical exam
One post-partum visit at 6 weeks - Pap smear not included
Fees do not include...
1st initial visit (200 to 900 dollars)
C-section w/ prenatal visits - $2500
Prenatal blood tests - lab will bill
Amniosentesis - $250.00
Ultrasounds - $100 - $230 a piece
Non Stress test (???) - $50
Male circumcision - $337.00 (Yeah, this kid needs to be a girl)
Alpha-feta protein - lab will bill
RPR - lab will bill
Urinalysis - $8
Hemoglobin - $15
Oh my God! This doesn't include any extra stuff, like if you have to go to the hospital or extra testing for unforseen complications, or complications in general. Like me, I made a mistake, didn't go with my gut and went to the hospital first to find out for sure if I was pregnant. Two weeks later, I got the bill and 45 minutes later, my mom walked in my room to find me rocking back and forth on my bed clutching the bills and wailing, while the boy rubbed my back in an effort to calm me down. Ever really paid attention to what you are paying for? I now know. Here's what I got billed for...
Hospital:
1 Emergency Visit - $855.35
1 Laboratory Charge i.e. peeing in a cup - 111.15
1 Radiology diagnosis -having my confirmation ultrasound - 558.90
1 Pharmacy Charge - tiny pill to curb nausea I was having - .75 cents
Then, the Radiology department sends me a bill for 138.50 for having someone read my ultrasound! Oh and the doctor charges me for services rendered - 233.00. Final grand total for sitting in the hospital for 4 hours....$1897.65!!!!!!!!!!
I'm a statistic now. I'm on medicaid. I'm not proud of it. But I don't have $5000 to toss around for health care. I don't know many people that do. I'm not a lazy person. I'm not a person trying to cheat the system. I'm simply a woman, trying to have a child, without having her own health insurance. The claim is that one day, I'll look back on all of this and laugh. Hopefully, I will. With health insurance.
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