Today just seemed like another day. I got off work an hour and a half late this morning, due to staffing issues but even with that I somehow managed to make it through a whole shift at main having only two calls. That’s almost unheard of. I went to the chiropractor to put my hips back in line so maybe I can make it through my days for a few weeks without having to survive on ibuprofen. And then I came home and went to bed. Nothing extraordinary happened today either good or bad. It was just another day.


Yet it was something that the chiropractor said to me while I was on the adjustment table getting heat and TENS treatment prior to the adjustment. “Here there is no work, school, spouse, bills, or anything like that. You just need to relax. I see the worry in your eyes.” Then he walked out of the room, leaving me to ponder what he had said. This statement caught me off guard. I had actually didn’t think I was actively worried about anything. I mean, I always am worried about things. My parents, especially my dad, are one of those things. A year ago this week, my dad spent a week in the hospital battling kidney failure. That was the week I nearly dropped out of medic school after basically living at Maury Regional in his hospital room, actively on week two of not sleeping due to trying to make sure he was not going to do anything that would hurt him. Now I’m a licensed medic and the only difference is that we’re just waiting on him to go downhill again. I worry about work, both the politics and what I might run across on a daily basis dealing with calls. I worry about not being good enough. The list goes on and on.


It’s so tempting to fall back on old habits to cope with things. I’m not sleeping again and I can’t tell how much of it is due to my screwed up internal clock and how much is the depression and anxiety creeping back in. I thought I had pushed a lot of it back into a corner and shut the door. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Wrong. It’s always there. Looming over my shoulder just waiting to come back out. I haven’t cut or burned in months yet even now as I sit here and type this it’s so tempting to hunt down a lighter and start again. Sure it hurts, but the pain brings something to focus on. It would be my little secret. I’ve never stopped throwing up and it’s gotten to the point that most mornings I spend the first thirty minutes of being awake in the bathroom vomiting uncontrollably and if I don’t throw up after eating a large meal I feel horrible mentally and physically.


I miss my friends. Or at least the people I have thought were my friends. I don’t even know who really is my friend anymore. All the people I knew and was really close through elementary, middle, and high school have all gone their separate ways and I just get to see little tastes of it online but they never talk to me anymore. My nursing school friends have all gone their separate ways yet they stay close to each other. Again, I see snippets of their interactions with each other and miss that. As for EMT/AEMT/Medic school friends? The people from the first two I don’t think even remember my existence, but I can’t blame them for that. Three months together for most of them, six for a few others really isn’t that long and I’m more than forgettable. As for my medic school friends, I barely existed when we were in class together for a year, so not really existing now isn’t a big change. Others I do hear from every once in a while. I even spent Valentine’s Day with two of them this year, which was a great surprise because it helped keep that day from being another depressing day in my calendar, though the whole time I couldn’t help but to feel awkward and still not good enough. I do have a couple people I work with that I would like to think I’m friends with, but hanging out with them outside of work has never been offered or approached.


And though many people would say it’s no big deal, the fact that I’ll be turning 25 in two months and I still have never been on a date much less had anyone seem to even pretend to be interested in me is a constant punch in the stomach. I know it’s a little thing in the long run because there’s “more to life”, but it still hurts.


I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’ll never be seen by anyone. Not because it’s private but because even if I did post links to it everywhere no one would care enough to read it. I’m going to sit here and knock out another bottle of wine, find a lighter, and see what happens next. Maybe I’ll make another post, maybe I’ll pass out and finally sleep for once. We’ll see.




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