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In reality and in the metaphorical sense. My younger brother moved out of our parents' house recently and went all the way to Washington. Everyone, including my best friend, has been all weepy about it, but me? I don't really feel...anything. I don't miss him, even though I would consider us close. Worst of all, I'm a little bitter about the whole thing, and not for the right reasons.
I moved out almost three years ago, seven minutes away from my parents' house. My brother moved out last week, 5 hours away from our town. Do you know how bad that makes me look?
I know that I'm being irrational and a total jerk about the whole thing. I should be happy for him and proud of his accomplishments, or at least try to hide the fact that I'm not, but I pride myself in being honest. When my parents, friends, and therapist have asked me how I've dealt with this 'trying time', I've admitted that I really don't feel any different and that I actually hope he doesn't do well on his own and has to move back home. Does saying this aloud just make me an honest, up-front person who doesn't shy away from her feelings, or a total bitch?
I think most people really do think about themselves first and foremost, it's just not polite or politically correct to admit it. Why is it okay for us to talk about how fat and ugly and stupid we are, but if we praise ourselves, we're considered conceited and self-centered? If we're not happy about something that isn't supposed to even make us happy, why do we have to pretend otherwise? White lies are good. If you receive the ugliest god-awful sweater from a well-meaning friend, you pretend you love it. There's no harm in that. But when something happens in your life that genuinely displeases you and everyone else around you is overreacting, why should you bottle up your true emotions? Especially to friends and family, who you are supposed to be yourself with?
Sometimes my leap from people-pleaser to blunt babe is too much for even me to handle. I gotta brush away that little voice that keeps screaming 'APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT YOU JUST SAID! JUST NOD YOUR HEAD!'
Or maybe I should listen to it more often.
I moved out almost three years ago, seven minutes away from my parents' house. My brother moved out last week, 5 hours away from our town. Do you know how bad that makes me look?
I know that I'm being irrational and a total jerk about the whole thing. I should be happy for him and proud of his accomplishments, or at least try to hide the fact that I'm not, but I pride myself in being honest. When my parents, friends, and therapist have asked me how I've dealt with this 'trying time', I've admitted that I really don't feel any different and that I actually hope he doesn't do well on his own and has to move back home. Does saying this aloud just make me an honest, up-front person who doesn't shy away from her feelings, or a total bitch?
I think most people really do think about themselves first and foremost, it's just not polite or politically correct to admit it. Why is it okay for us to talk about how fat and ugly and stupid we are, but if we praise ourselves, we're considered conceited and self-centered? If we're not happy about something that isn't supposed to even make us happy, why do we have to pretend otherwise? White lies are good. If you receive the ugliest god-awful sweater from a well-meaning friend, you pretend you love it. There's no harm in that. But when something happens in your life that genuinely displeases you and everyone else around you is overreacting, why should you bottle up your true emotions? Especially to friends and family, who you are supposed to be yourself with?
Sometimes my leap from people-pleaser to blunt babe is too much for even me to handle. I gotta brush away that little voice that keeps screaming 'APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT YOU JUST SAID! JUST NOD YOUR HEAD!'
Or maybe I should listen to it more often.
My cystoscopy was on the 3rd of this month and naturally it has taken me 2 weeks to blog about it. For the record, I did try to write about this a few times already, but dreamwidth refused to cooperate. So, here's all the nitty-gritty details.
My mom was certainly more freaked out at the time over the size of that sucker, seeing as it's supposed to go in my urethra and both of us just recently learned we HAD urethras...Anyway, I had to have my legs in an almost split-like fashion and the doctor proceeded to put the camera up my urethra. I honestly didn't feel it. The screen that showed the images from the camera were right next to my bed so I mostly paid attention to that. We saw the inside of my bladder and it was, and I quote, "beautiful". To me, it was just pink and empty and basically looked like the inside of a bubblegum bubble. Then they pumped a bit of water in, which made me finally understand what that wee-wee pad was all about, collected the sample from the water, and told me I could get up and go to the bathroom. I waddled off, peed the coldest feeling pee (it was just water), cleaned up a bit and put back on my clothes. The whole process took maybe 15 minutes at most, but it honestly didn't feel that long. The urologist and his assistant were both very professional, quick, and understanding of my anxiety (which again was virtually non-existent after 7 Ativan. 
Thank god for my friends. They've all managed to help keep me preoccupied and happy on the days leading up to 'Doomsday'. This weekend I spent most of my time baking cupcakes and playing with babies. My friend and I attempted to make the infamous 
So today a friend came over and we made a chocolate cake and decorated it (
I've been all out of it the past few days. Crying jags, restlessness, general anxiety. So, as I usually do when I'm confronted with anxiety, I had to keep myself busy. I spent the majority of my weekend over at my best friend's house. She had her nephew's baby for the weekend, and nothing distracts me from myself more than paying attention to a lil' babay.
