The Wrong Place To Be Thinking Of Her...

Yesterday I attended a funeral for a 16 year old who shot herself. I pray to God I never have to do something like that again. The church where the service was held was decorated for Christmas and it felt so wrong to see lighted trees surround a devastated family. During the service my mind kept repeating lines from Damien Rice's 9 Crimes.

Unfortunately this is the season for suicide. If you know someone who is down or who even made a joke about killing themselves take is seriously. If you are feeling like suicide is an option please call a friend or a family member, or even a suicide hotline such as 1800-SUICIDE or 1800-273-TALK. Help is out there.

I kept wondering what her mom and dad's last words to her were, and it reminded me how important it is to say I love you. So I am logging off to call my mom.

It's been awhile...

I have started this new "program" of waking up early to work out and going to bed early. Being a grown up is hard work. I am missing all the best tv at night. But I guess it's worth it to be to work on time (for the most part).

Speaking of work, things with McGee ebb and flow craziness. Recently, Supermommy came to see me and McGee was overwhelmed by her pregnancy. Which turned into a long discussion of her own children's births. MCGee stated she pulled her youngest child out of her va-jay-jay herself, so now I have this Lion King image of her holding the baby up for everyone in the delivery room to see. I have retold this story several times and have yet to tell it with out reaching down and simulating the pull-out process.

I guess it goes with out saying that I have searched out safe places to get my work done. I have found an office that no one is using and it has become my hide-a-way.

I have also been studying for my licensure exams. Or sometimes thinking about studying. I wonder if I will ever feel prepared for this test. Sigh.

So far the best part of my late spring life has been selling blueberries with my dad and other family members. It has been wonderful seeing my peeps and watching my dad socialize with everyone while he eats all the fair type food.

That sums up my last month of life. What's shaking with you?

I'm not a therapist. I just play one on t.v.

I just went to a training on Autism and they showed the documentary, "Autism: The Musical."
It was a wonderful, emotional, honest, and compelling look into the lives of families who have children with Autism. I encourage everyone to watch it.

Speaking of mental health, recently there was a school shooting in the city I live in. A teenager was shot and killed by a police officer after he attacked the officer with a bat. Yesterday, my mayor brought the chief of police, the superintendent of the school system, and council members together to talk about mental health and the school system. Nowhere was there mention of a psychologist or a licensed therapist attending. How is it that so many people can talk (and make decisions that affect so many) about mental health without having the actual trained professionals present? I am reminded of a time when Clinton was still president and he assembled actors, and athletes, and all sorts of famous people to talk about mental health concerns in adolescents. Never one was there mention of an actual mental health professional attending the conference. As frustrated as I feel, this highlights for me the work that needs to be done to bring awareness of mental health concerns in an appropriate professional way. With trained actors playing the role of concerned psychologists of course.

Fear #457: Puppets

Soon I will be leading a preschool group as a part of my job. For this group we are required to use toddler-size puppets who are "group members." I am not a fan of puppets, and I am not afraid to say I am even afraid of them. I am not entirely convinced they won't come alive in the middle of the night and try to cut my fingers off. As someone who is almost 30, I get this fear is ridiculous, but thus far I have been able to control it by not being around minions of Satan puppets. The puppets for our new group arrived last week, and since I won't touch them, McGee got the job of putting them away. I expected them to be in a box, or in a cupboard. I did not expect them to be in chairs and shelves around the office all facing me. At first I thought it might be unintentional, but then I remembered who I am taking about. Because I don’t want to show more fear than I already have I pretend this is not creeping me out. My next step in overcoming my puppet fear is to find my “puppet voice” so I can begin practicing using them with kids. Right now the only “voice” I can think of is the evil-whispery voice little kids use, but I don’t think that will be conducive to telling a bunch of preschoolers the importance of sharing and being a good friend. I welcome any and all suggestions to overcoming my puppet fear and finding my inner puppet voice. Happy Friday.

Call Me Irresponsible

You wouldn't be alone. This is what I was called today at work by my boss's boss. All because I didn't respond to email she sent me either today or last week. To be fair, when I spoke to her today her exact words (after I said I had been locked out of the email system for the past week) were, "(polite laughter) Oh and I was thinking you were just irresponsible." Okay so that actually doesn't sound any better. I too gave a polite laugh and assured her that as soon as I was able to I would be responsive to all email requests. When I hung up the phone I was in shock for a second. Am I getting the rep as the irresponsible one? And for something that is totally out of my control. I mean I know I won't get the rep for being the mouth (after all I do work with McGee), and she will also win for most empathetic and passionate about her work. But I thought I would be in the running for helpful or considerate.

The truly messed up aspect of this is that I can't even tell the IT person myself that my email is screwed because he is only available by email. I can't tell you how many times today I tried to tell people about my email woes and their response was, "well just send support an email." McGee herself many times today tried to have me check my email to confirm different things. When the IT came today to work on different issues, he was not directed to my area (even though I spoke with the person in charge of directing the IT guy twice in the morning). By the afternoon I called her again only to be told that she forgot I needed a computer tech because she forgot I had a cubicle (disregarding the fact I can't get in the system).

I felt like today was like a weird episode of "the Office." I ate lunch at my desk so I could spend my lunch half-hour walking to clear my head. Unfortunately this plan sucked on several levels. First, I missed a noon meeting (which I thought had been moved to 10am-I guess you can call me unreliable. Throw in undependable too). Second my quick lunch was a light meal of eggplant parm and noodles. Which made my peaceful walk more of a Michael Scott fun run moment. Luckily, there was no puke involved in my exercise. Or nipple chafing.

When I was talking to Carl his advice was that tomorrow had to be better, if for no other reason than it would not be Monday. Here's hoping. I also had to laugh as I relayed a comment McGee made to me when she came into my area to talk about all the talking going on in her area. She said, "I just don't like to talk in the office area." A major lie and I am surprised she wasn't hit with lightening or smote as she stood. I think she was just mad that everyone in her area was talking about Britney Spears, and not their cats or crazy neighbors (which are her hot topics). Here's to whatever the rest of the week brings my way.

Thoughts On Dusty Eggs and Still Having It
This weekend I became 1 year closer to turning 30. Looking back on the past year I have a lot to be happy about. This was the year I graduated and got a job with grown up benefits. I have not had a lot of negative thoughts on turning 30. I know this can be a hard year for some people, but for me 26 was a hard year. As a child that was the year I imagined myself married and with a child of my own (or more than one). I imagine 30 as more of a year I will do something incredible. Like have my ovaries crumble into a pile of dust. Let me 'splain...

Every year I have dinner with my friends. This is a celebration I treasure. Usually. This year brought a little something special. I have a friend who suffers from diarrhea of the mouth (let's call her McGee). It's an unfortunate disease but she is able to keep it under control most of the time. She is older than myself, and struggles with the expectations from her younger years. During dinner someone asked me if I was nervous about the upcoming 30th. I asked if I should be (trying to be funny and keep it light). That's when McGee broke in and said that most women are terrified about turning 30 because that's when they know they've lost all the good child bearing years. She then went into detail about how old and decrepit my eggs would become in 363 days (as she was talking I swear my eggs shriveled a little in horror of their impending doom). She then asked if I ever thought about donating or freezing my eggs. At least if I donated them, she said, I would get some cash. I looked around at my friends (who seemed strangely silent to me--which is a side effect of her disease) and stated that everyone was welcome to join me at the egg clinic (if such a thing exists) for my 30th. We could have a picnic as I unload my damaged goods.

Needless to say this got me thinking. Am I becoming old and decrepit before my time? Am I dusty? But at dinner the next night I found out I still had it.* As I was trying to find a table to have dinner with my father, I told the waitress I could sit anywhere. "Anywhere you say? This girl (yes he called me a girl-hee hee) is going to sit right here (pointing to the space between himself and another man)." Sure the man was 65 if he was a day, but hey, that's my flirting demographic. I laughed and told the gentleman to have a nice evening. Happy to be 29. Because the 28 year old would not have attracted a man who could afford to eat at a restaurant (my previous flirters were also homeless). I think this will be a great year. I say bring it 30, My eggs are prepared to dust themselves off and dance a jig. Or even a cool dance like the running man.


*I lost it two days later when someone at work asked when I was expecting my first child. But it was sweet while it lasted.

In Other News

My new job starts tomorrow. I am nervous to say the least. Wish me luck. My prayer is that I don't sound like an asshole or an idiot (both of which are highly likely as they tend to be my reactions to being nervous). I am also praying I don't trip and fall (which is also highly likely).

Jokes About Dying...

Yesterday I spent an hour with my grandfather. His health is deteriorating rapidly, and I know there isn't much time. This summer I feel like I have spent the majority of it trying to make my mom feel better, and I have not had a chance to process what his death will mean for me. Yesterday I got my first real taste of it.

My grandpa always seemed larger than life to me. It isn't that he is the biggest man alive, but he had a big presence. And he seemed indestructible. I remember once he wanted to drive me to college, because he couldn't really believe it was a 10 hour drive (it was I assure you-12 hours if you traveled with my dad). My g-pa and I made it in 7. I have never been so sure I was going to die in my life. He just kept laughing and saying this drive was nothing. He may have also been drunk (which he was often), but still.

We were close when I was younger, but grew distant when he and my g-ma split up. It wasn't until I was older that I realized most of the anger I carried towards him came from my mom's own feelings of rejection. It's funny the emotional baggage you carry for your parents when you are a child. I wrote him a letter when I graduated high school apologizing for my distance, but by then I was off to college and then graduate school. I will admit I hid behind the distance between us (telling myself I didn't want to be around a drunk driver to make it better). It just felt easier to keep things status quo. Now I wish I had been more accessible to him. The thing is, he never had a bad thing to say about me or my mom. He has loved us the same as ever. Someday I hope my mom sees that.

When I walked in yesterday and saw him in the hospice bed it really hit me. He looks like someone that is dying. He was also not wearing pants, and that was disturbing too (sorry if it is disrespectful but it freaked me out). We sat and talked for about 30 minutes before he fell asleep. I was not sure what the protocol is for this situation. Should I talk about how much I love him, and tell him thanks for being my g-pa? I chose to let him lead the conversation. And the jokes began. His g-friend came in and said she was going to by lotto tickets. He said something about winning the lotto and dying in the same week. To which I replied, "But it would be a hell of a funeral." Then I had a moment of panic. Did I just crack a joke about his funeral to him?!? Then he laughed and it was on. We spent about 10 minutes trying to outdo the each other with inappropriate death jokes. He won (I think he had an unfair advantage though--he has thought longer about his impending death than I have).

We also talked about my mom and his worries about her. There was nothing I could think of to reassure him, so I kept quiet.

When he fell asleep I left the room so I wouldn't disturb him and I sat awkwardly in his living room. I wasn't sure what to think so I tried to keep my mind blank of death and dying. This might have worked if the T.V. wasn't on CNN and the coverage wasn't all about people dead or dying from the recent floods. I focused instead on the family pictures scattered about, realizing how little I have known about my grandfather's life in the last 18 years. I also found out there is a hole in the floor in the living room.

His home health nurse came in and I left. As I kissed him goodbye he introduced my as his granddaughter first then he said my granddaughter, Dr. Lorelai. When the nurse heard this she looked up and said, "Oh a doctor! How do you do." and then shook my hand. Superficial Bitch. I told my g-pa I would be back in a couple of days. The nurse stopped me and said. "But aren't you a doctor? Don't you want to watch his catheter change?" WTF?!? A) Even if I was a medical doctor, there is no way in hell I would get near my g-pa's catheter region (I am making a circular hand motion in my own catheter region). It was bad enough he wasn't wearing pants, and I could see his underwear (and catheter drip line). B) I am not a medical doctor.

I laughingly explained, "I am not a medical doctor but a psychologist, so no I wouldn't stay in the room for any procedures, but if you had a big feeling about changing the catheter we could talk." All she said was, "Oh, you're not a medical doctor (with a sneer). Why would I have a big feeling about a catheter (said with another sneer)?" I said, "well you'd be amazed at how fast big feelings can come up." Like making jokes about death with your dying grandfather.

I Heart The Beach


My last day of work came with more fan fare than I expected. I actually got presents and was taken to lunch. One if my gifts was a beer stein that has my name and degree on it. I guess it's so everyone will know I am a smart drunk. I really enjoyed working with most of the staff this year (the one exception being I really did not like working with the other intern). Thankfully she left a week before I did, so my last week of work was relatively peaceful. I was able to impart my wisdom on the new interns (don't be a jerk and don't be demanding) and say goodbye to everyone who made my year so fun and challenging.

I was really excited to leave work on Thursday because I was heading straight to the coast. I packed up all my books and office knick knacks and drove for 4 hours.

I spent 2 days lying by the pool and hanging out with my family. It was totally chill and exactly what I needed. My aunt celebrated her birthday on Saturday night, and in honor we baked two cakes. This is where the weekend turned a little tense. The cake decorators were 2 cousins, one who is 5, and one who is older. The 5 year old spent the entire time trying to direct the decorating, and finally Reba (the older one) lost it. For the entire dinner Reba kept mumbling that she still liked her cousin in between bites of chili and rice. I was sitting next to her, and there was nothing I could do but let her work through it. I was also trying not to laugh and alert the entire table to the fact that she was so pissed off. And because there was such a war with the cakes, everyone had to have a slice of each, and they had to be cut at exactly the same time. Both cakes were delish if you were wondering, but Reba's was my fav (I'm a chocolate fan).

One aunt become obsessed with One Tree Hill. She stayed up for several nights trying to watch as many episodes as possible. I finally got to talk with her Saturday night when she finished the bulk of the episodes. The only thing she really wanted to talk about though were the characters of OTH. Her daughter told her she was addicted, and she laughed and said "Well Duh!"

I also have been trying to be more active, so each day I swam laps. My 5 y.o. cousin swam along with me, and told me that she wanted to be as strong as I am. I told her that she sees with the eyes of god and she saw my true self.

Saturday night my entire family went to church and I got the giggles while I was there. I was sitting next to an aunt I will refer to as the instigator. It all began when we saw a woman begin picking at the ear of the gentleman next to her. It was actually really creepy and I kept waiting for her to eat the lice she found. I was really creeped because I couldn't tell if this was a daughter and a father or a husband and a wife. All I could do was look away and think happy thoughts. During the homily the priest went on and on about giving, and then there were 2 collection plates, so the instigator began singing about everyone being too cheap (in a high church voice). I pretty much spent the entire service trying not to laugh out loud.

We came home on Sunday, and I have been spending my first week reading, and watching soaps (pretty much what I thought would be happening). I did see the Bourne Ultimatum and I was very impressed. Next on my list are the movies Star Dust and No Reservations. I really also want to go back to the coast, but we will see.

it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. -e.e. cummings

Last night I finished my last therapy session. I had my inner child party and it was fun. We had cupcakes and pomegranate and blueberry punch. We made pictures frames and began a collage. As I was talking to my friend on the way to therapy I mentioned that I did not sob or cry in therapy (and I was a little disappointed--I guess I really did want to resolve everything at once). I mentioned this to my therapist and she laughed. Then reminded me that I am not really a sobber, I am more of a laugher in the face of adversity. Which is true, but I am still bummed I didn't have that great cathartic cry.

As of 6pm tonight I am officially Dr. Lorelai. I am more excited about this than graduating last month. Maybe because I knew I wasn't technically graduating when I walked. Tonight my dad and some friends had a celebratory dinner. I really wanted a glass of wine but I had a crazy sinus headache, so I had coffee instead (that felt like a pretty grown-up drink). We talked shop and my dad would interject with refernces from Fraiser and the Bob Newhart Show. He really loved Fraiser.

Not only will I be an official doctor but I also have a job for the next 5 years (yeah job security). It was a position I really wanted, but yesterday when I found out it was mine I began to panic. I don't really feel like Dr. Lore yet. Most of the time I feel like I'm winging it.

Now that I am a doctor my first order of business is to borrow money from my dad to pay rent for the next 2 months. Which maybe another reason I don't feel quite like a grown-up yet.

Here's to choosing wisely, and becoming the person you were born to be.