"Hello, hello. Is anybody listening? Let go, 'cause everyone lets go of me. Oh, oh, won't somebody show me that I'm not alone, not alone?" --Kelly Clarkson, Hello
At this moment in my life, I feel as though I am standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming, and no one is paying any attention. I don't think that I have ever felt more alone. It is incredibly discouraging. Some days, I think that I have mastered the art of keeping it all together, making it appear as though I know what I am doing. But the majority of the time, I am surprised when I make it through the day without collapsing in a fit of tears. It's a difficult existence. I think that my challenge is that I can't figure out what really matters anymore. I'm fumbling around, attempting to find my place in this crap-tastic, effed up world, and I'm not succeeding at all. I'm going through the motions, but nothing is hitting the bullseye. I can't find my niche. I am beginning to think that I simply do not have a niche.
Kylie and I spent the last week in Michigan with my extended family. It was so nice to take a break from my frustrations, but it was also incredibly hard to march back into my life and remember what I had left behind. This juggling act is too much to handle, and I have recently had too many moments where I just wanted to give it all up and run away. If it weren't for Kylie, I would have disappeared a long time ago. I no longer want to deal with Rat Bastard and his nonchalant attitude about caring for our daughter. I no longer want to fight with the courts about their failure to enforce his child support payments. I no longer want to worry about whether he is going to switch up his weekend visitation and leave me hanging on a day that I have to work. In a sense, I am tired of being the only responsible parent.
I visited another urologist today, this guy being a specialist at Wake Forest Baptist Hospital (i.e. very good). This appointment was far less traumatizing than the last one, but the anxiety leading up to it was just as harrowing. I was the only person in the waiting room who was not a retiree. I spent two hours discussing everything that I have told no less than ten other doctors over the past five years. This time, however, I finally got the official diagnosis I have been waiting for. I'm sure that somewhere on my medical chart, someone has written "Hot Mess." It's a much shorter version than the three disorders that were named today. I now have the pleasure of spending a small fortune on prescriptions each month, in addition to following the diet that has tortured me for two months now. What really sucks is when people ask me why I have to eat such weird, limited things. I just don't really feel like explaining it all. There is nothing sexy about bladder problems; when I mention it, I imagine that people think I just randomly pee on myself. Grief. I have enough trouble scoring a date as it is.
On an up note, here are some highlights from my vacation. It was colder than the Arctic in Michigan, but it was absolutely beautiful. I think that I need to make visiting in the fall an annual event. Even though it was too cold to lounge on the beach of Lake Michigan, it was still awesome. And we got to wear cute earmuffs....always a perk.
I took my dad to see our favorite college football team (Michigan Wolverines) play their Homecoming game. The day could not have been better (minus the eight hour round trip drive to get to the bottom of the state). I spent a small fortune on tickets, but they were the perfect seats, and we had a blast.
Then, of course, there was Halloween. Kylie and I threw our costumes together at the last minute, deciding to go as matching witches. I think that I was pleasantly surprised at how close of a resemblance I shared with the Wicked Witch of the West once I threw on the green face paint. Perhaps I should wear it more often.
Most importantly, I had the chance to spend some time with my grandparents on each side of the family. There is never enough time, and I always wish that I lived closer. I feel like I have missed out on a lot because I am so far away, and I feel guilty for not being there to take care of them the way I would like. When I left my Grandma's on Tuesday afternoon to drive back to NC, I cried all the way to the bottom of Michigan. It's so hard to let go.
Next time we go up, I'm skipping driving. I don't care how much airline tickets are; I can't spend fifteen hours in a car ever again. Or, if the airlines are extremely ridiculous in their pricing (as usual), I will simply fly to Michigan on my broomstick. It seems to be a far more fitting alternative.