I’ve had this blog for a little over a week and I’ve already been sketchy. I’m sorry!! I promise to try to do better!!
My brain is in a fog and my thoughts are all over the place, and I am writing this in the hopes of sorting through things, so please bear with me.
Rob and I made the 5+ hour drive back home to Alabama this past weekend, in order for me to attend my monthly graduate school weekend class (only one more weekend stands between me & a Master’s degree. Woot Woot!!). As my friends will attest, I am what one may like to call a procrastinator, so despite the fact that I had a reflective essay, an annotated bibliography, a synthesizing research paper, and a power point presentation due on Saturday, I arrived home on Thursday with none of the above completed, and spent the majority of my weekend under a great deal of self-imposed stress. Ironically, the topic of my annotated bib, research paper, and presentation was “Perfectionism and Procrastination in Higher Education.” Yeah. And I definitely finished all of it late Friday evening. Ugh, I really don’t know what is wrong with me & why I procrastinate to such a degree. It is as though my brain can’t form cohesive & coherent sentences, or should I say, sentences that live up to my intense need for perfection. Ugh. One academically related positive of the weekend, though: I received my letter stating that I passed my Comprehensive Exams and am now set to graduate. And, this is kind of silly, but one of my former professors (who was also my former boss), whom I am not particularly fond of (i.e. his is a bit of a pompous ass) left me a handwritten note on my letter, telling me congratulations, and it made me really happy.
I still have no job prospects, and it is getting very frustrating. I have moved 3 times in as many months, so I would prefer to stay where I am for a while, but there are just no jobs around here for my field. And, really, if one more person asks me “Well, can’t you do something with your Master’s other than work for a college?” (Umm… it’s a Master’s in HIGHER EDUCATION administration, so, um, no.), I might throw something. I have found a few jobs at various colleges here in South Carolina, but they all would require Rob and me to move. Back to that “Perfectionism and Procrastination in Higher Education” project I mentioned a second ago, there was a topic I covered, called ‘self-handicapping’, in which a person sets up actual barriers for success, as a means of self-preservation. For example, a person may wait until the night before a big test to study, that way, if he/she doesn’t do well on the test, their poor performance can be attributed to a lack of sufficient study time, as opposed to a lack of intellect or ability. A part of me is afraid that I am in, some way, self-handicapping myself. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough to find a job. Maybe I’m not applying for enough jobs. Maybe I’m being too picky. I think I’m afraid of getting a job and figuring out too late that it was NOT the job for me. Bleh.
Wedding planning is also a big stressor, right now. Let me explain a little about my engagement situation, first of all. Like many little girls, I dreamt of meeting the man of my dreams and having him drop down on one knee with a beautiful ring and asking me to be his wife. Well, after about 9 months of dating Rob, that happened. Sort of. See, he planned this really special date, where he took me out to this little island out on a local former army base (both of us come from military families, and he served in the national guard), and had my favorite food, and got down on one knee, and had a gorgeous ring (the PERFECT ring) and asked me to marry him. Unfortunately, I sabotaged my own happiness, because I had ((accidentally)) found out the week prior, that he was planning to surprise, so I had to pretend to be surprised, which took some of the special out of the situation, but whatever. Rob and I stayed engaged for about 6 months, before we realized that we had two different expectations for our engagement. I assumed being engaged meant that we were going to get married. Like soon. As in, like, the next year or so. Rob, on the other hand, thought engagement meant that we would get married… at some point. [Basically, he loved me & just wanted to be engaged. And, although he may not admit it, a major reason for him proposing was because every since I had joined my sorority I dreamed of having a “candlelight” ceremony, which is basically a really special, celebratory tradition that the sorority has for sisters who get engaged. My junior year of college was quickly coming to a close, and I had applied for inactive status for my senior year, so Rob knew this was my last chance. Good intentions, God bless him.] Anyways, he and I postponed the engagement, I gave back the ring (so he could propose again, later, when we were ready), and we just dated. Well… insert a couple breakups, several stupid fights, and one serious ultimatum over the next year or so, and we finally reached a point to where we were ready to be engaged. At this point, Rob had moved from his apartment in Alabama, to South Carolina, to live with his dad & to work a better job. One day, after coming home to visit, Rob realized that my engagement ring was missing. Long story short, he had left my ring, in its box, in a drawer, along with some of his other stuff that he was storing at that old apartment, and his roommates sketchy 17-year old son, stole my ring, gave it to his “baby-momma”, took the ring back from her, and pawned it. For $90. We never got it back & I was heartbroken. Now, when I moved up here from Alabama, this past summer, it was under the shared assumption that we would get married. The little girl in me still wanted that traditional engagement, with the pretty ring that you proudly show to everyone, BUT there was (is) just no way for Rob to afford another ring, so my mom gave me her old engagement ring from her second marriage, and Rob got down on one knee in my bedroom (we were home for a class weekend) and proposed and it was a nice ring (except that it had a gold band & I am not a fan of gold) but it wasn’t MY ring. A couple weeks later, as Rob and I were in the middle of moving out of our apartment, into another apartment with our friend who was trying to divorce his (literally) crazy wife who was doing everything she could to keep us out (she was also delusional and I would like to note that she had been released from a psychiatric unit earlier that day) and the stress got to me and I fainted (I have a strange tendency to do that). Next thing I know, I’m being tied to a back board, with a paramedic informing me that I fainted, hit my head, had a seizure, and was being taken to the hospital. Completely confused and terrified, I looked at my left hand, as I was being lifted into the ambulance, and, through tear-filled eyes, noticed that the diamond was missing from my engagement ring. I had hit the sidewalk with such force that it knocked the diamond out of my ring. Luckily, Rob found the diamond the next day, so this ½ karat diamond sits by itself in a jewelry box and my left hand is naked. I’ve been wearing some random ring that my grandmother bought me when I was a little girl that is this, like, aquamarine/turquoise stone with small diamonds around it, and looks nothing like an engagement ring. To be honest, I feel jipped. I feel like in our society (particularly Southern society), an engagement isn’t real if you don’t have a ring. Maybe that is why I haven’t been in a rush to start planning the wedding—because it doesn’t feel real.
Rob and I (well, technically, I) have changed the date at least 3 times, and still haven’t really settled on one, although we know we want to be married this coming up spring. Both Rob and my best friend, Elizabeth, mentioned that, perhaps, I should find a wedding venue first, before choosing a date, which (as I have not planned a wedding before) I had not thought of. So, now, I am stressing to find a wedding location. I don’t know what my budget is, because I don’t know if my parents are going to pay. I want a small wedding, preferably outdoors, and not in a church. I come from a ridiculously small town in Alabama & there is nowhere to get married & I’m freaking out and our ((proposed)) wedding date is in, like, six months and I haven’t done anything. AHHHHH….
To make matters worse, I feel completely alone. Rob has given me full control of the planning, although I really want his help and input. My parents aren’t exactly thrilled about our impending nuptials, so I don’t feel comfortable talking to my mom about things, because she just brushes me off. Then, Elizabeth is in Alabama, Christine is in Ohio, Emily is in Georgia, and I have no friends here. Elizabeth called me last night & made me feel a lot better, offering to help with anything she can. I really need my friends right now.
And, of course, the cloud that is constantly hanging over my head… my weight. I’ve got quite a history with food and weight (which I won’t bore you with today) and I feel fat & I am miserable. I have probably gained 10-ish pounds since I moved in with Rob and I hate it. I want to eat healthy. I want to exercise. But, it’s like my body (& mind) won’t let me. Literally, candy/sugar is one of my main food groups. I crave it. I’m addicted to it. I need it. And, as far as exercise? I, literally, possess, like, negative amounts of energy. It’s hard to even get out of bed. I was speaking with one of my classmates about my whole “faint-and-hit-the-ground-and-break-my-face” situation, and she started talking about a condition called dysautonomia, and the more I read about it, the more it makes sense to everything I have been experiencing for the past, like, 5 years, but neither Rob, nor my mother, take me seriously, and I don’t know what to do and I just want to feel better. AHHH…
Related to my food/weight issues is the fact that, I suck at being a housewife and I hate it. I don’t know how to cook, I don’t know how to plan meals, and whenever I go grocery shopping, I have all these good intentions of meals and snacks and healthy eating, and I buy all of this food & it just goes to waste. It is so frustrating. And, to be honest, I think the only fruits/vegetables I had all weekend were some orange juice with my breakfast and a slice of tomato on a burger on Friday. That is awful. I eat horribly!! I want to eat healthy, but I don’t know what to eat or what to cook or how to cook and I feel overwhelmed and I don’t have the money to go to a dietitian or anything and grrr… I am just so frustrated with life right now…