TAKEN

I have FINALLY landed my first job as a registered nurse! Third time is a charm I guess because my first and second interviews just didn't feel right. I'm glad I didn't sell out (since I am still a candidate for the second position) just to gain experience. I mean, SHIT, I busted my ass to put myself through school so why settle for a job I know I am better than? 

I got this opportunity through an old friend, a girl who was in my delivery room with me, and I guess timing, luck & my prayer candle were just all working in my favor because I got hired right there in the interview for the cardiovascular ICU!

I cannot even believe my luck at the moment. I don't even have words to describe my excitement. I am nervous, of course, because this is an extremely difficult position for any nurse, let alone someone who has zero experience on her own, but I'm prepared to dive back into my studies, read up on critical care nursing blogs and be as prepared as I can be, even if it's just textbook knowledge. 

The nursing director said it will feel like I am underwater for the first year and a half, but I am prepared for the stress and pressure. Plus, they have training for the open heart surgery patients, so I have to stay as long as I possibly can. 

I've always been told I would be a great ICU nurse, but to be honest, it scared me. I had stayed clear from applying for those positions because I know every single move is life or death. I didn't know if that was something I could handle, but I also know my personality, and I don't want to take any shortcuts just because the tough road isn't easy. If I'm going to be a nurse, I want to be in the toughest unit & constantly feel challenged. I always knew med-surg wouldn't cut it, but I don't know why I never thought about the CVICU before since cardiac is my passion. I feel like this is the perfect fit for me because I will not only be stabilizing a life, but preserving it.

I am SO excited/nervous/ready to start this next chapter in my life. What an exciting next year this will be! 

Into you like a train.

I wish I had the courage to ask earlier, though I don't know exactly how much it would have changed my actions. 

I was so excited when my Mr. Tie Tuesday came in to visit me twice in my last week before I took off for my heart procedure. Not like we don't talk everyday anyway, but him coming in on Thursday night took me by surprise. I did not expect it, and I suspect he didn't expect to come in either. 

Sometimes I feel like we are drawn to each other like fucking magnets, I don't know how to explain it. 

Anyways, it wasn't much like he was a customer at a strip club more like it was two people on a date or something, except I am wearing a lot less clothes than I would on a normal date. It was nice and, as usual, torturous because I just wanted to rip off his clothes and I couldn't . We had been talking about him helping me with my computer because he had made me a mix of songs (that I now cannot stop listening to), but I truly couldn't figure it out with him talking me through it over messages, so he asked if I wanted to meet at Starbucks close to where we live (did I mention we live within a mile of each other?) to help. He had decided to work from home on Friday, Halloween, so it happened to work out perfect because my loveless man was at work all day.

I didn't feel nervous to see Tie Tuesday outside of the club, like I would have with anyone else, because at this point he just feels like a friend (a friend I very much am attracted to, but still, a friend). However, as soon as I slid into the chair next to him and set up my computer, I could just feel his uneasiness. I mean, fuck, I wasn't going to force myself on him or anything, but at that moment I felt really awkward, like he was watching his back and that he wasn't supposed to be there. I checked for a ring and saw nothing. I have already done this at the club, but I also know a lot of guys take it off there, whether out of respect or because they are trying to sleep with a stripper. So there I was, with this guy I am used to being all over and silly with, and it seems like he is just trying not to make eye contact. I know I couldn't act like "Sasha" at fucking Starbucks but... what was the deal? I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach I really didn't like, and when I went to hug him and he stiffened, I figured I was about to extremely disappointed. 

Sure enough, Saturday night rolled around, he came in as planned (though he was supposed to be accompanied by his buddy and his friends, and they ended up just being too drunk to make it out of the house), and I got the disappointing answer I already knew I would. 

HE IS MARRIED. 

Six or seven years and "hanging on by a thread", he says, though it doesn't matter, because marriage is marriage whether it be one day or ten years, and now I am even more confused than I was before I knew for sure. It doesn't really change how I feel (though it should), but only because I met him acting like "Sasha". I didn't know or care if he was married or had three different girlfriends before, but now that I have taken this flirtationship outside of the club, it is different. It isn't like he tried to pick me up at a bar, we became friends at a place he willingly came to, where he knew girls like myself would be. So, even though I am disappointed, I am also still curious and not any less attracted. I thought maybe I wouldn't message him about sexual things anymore, or just message him less in general, but that absolutely did not work out. I enjoy him as a male interaction I can be very honest with, so why should I just end that? Besides, it seems that my actual boyfriend and I are ending, and I don't see why I should just stop a friendship that sends me into fits of laughter at all hours of the day. I mean, of course I know why, but I didn't choose to meet him at the strip club. That was his choice. 

Ugh. It is really a fucked up situation, but there is really nothing to this situation at the same time. Sure, we talk all day long and he comes in to see me at work, but at the end of the day, we are just typing words to each other and he can stop whenever he wants. I don't even know what is supposed to come of this. 

He is not mine to miss, yet I do. He is not my person to confide in, yet he was the person I was messaging in the middle of the night before my heart surgery, when I was feeling scared and nervous. 

What in the actual fuck is wrong with my head? I'm laughing now because it just all seems so silly and ridiculous. 

Last night, he asked me what is the first thing I think about when I wake up. It took me by surprise because I hadn't really thought about it, but when I did, I realized it was him. My Mr. Tie Tuesday fucking addiction. I wake up and literally check my messages first, in case I missed one from him. I wake up thinking I will roll over and he will be there. It is absolutely crazy, but it is the truth. We spent last night asking each other quite a bit of loaded questions, and I guess because I met him at the club where I am always pretty candid, I answered honestly and without a filter (though I could really use a filter). 

I talked openly about the situation with my SO, where we talked about how we are not in love anymore and that even if we do not work out, I will always be his family who will be at his parents house for Thanksgiving, and who I can call in a pinch to help me pick up my little one from school. Being that I have just about no family at all, it is nice to know this man will continue to be a support system for me. He is just a good man like that, and for that, I am grateful I have him in my life. We will probably still stay together for a while, but it is so much less tense in the house now that we have been honest about our feelings and we can just move forth like adults who have spent a good chunk of time together, which is more than I can say for my previous relationships. No anger, no backstabbing, no speaking ill of the other person, just making plans accordingly. It isn't stressful at all. Sad, maybe a little, but there is no unnecessary drama, which I appreciate. 

I know my Tie Tuesday stayed up really late after our conversation of truth-telling, and I wish I could tell what he was thinking. I suppose asking him would be the best, but I do not want to pry, 

I literally do not even know how I got to the point of liking someone who comes into the club. I was very happy pretending to be in love with someone because he was good to me, and was prepared to fake it until I made it, but now that I feel what it is like to have butterflies again, I don't know why I thought it was okay to settle for anything less than that. 

If nothing else, I feel like this is all teaching me that I don't have to be with someone I don't have feelings for, just because they are good to me. I got lucky with my loveless SO, because he is someone who will still be good to me as a friend if we don't work out, but I have to stop thinking that I don't deserve that giddy feeling. 

I DO. 

I absolutely fucking do. 

This heart of mine.

 For years, I have dealt with heart issues. I have always been someone who exercises and has generally kept myself in shape. In high school, I had dance competitions every weekend, and when I wasn't practicing five hours every day, I was performing at sports events. By the time my son had his first birthday, I had dropped all 41 pounds of giving in to midnight meat and chocolate milk cravings. During nursing school, I didn't have any time left for dance classes, but I got really into running and I have even signed up for my first marathon. Yet, despite all the years of keeping my cardiovascular system healthy, I always felt like my heart just couldn't keep up with how much I pushed myself. After constant EKG's, random panic attacks and palpitations that kept me up at night, I finally went to the doctor and got a diagnosis: Wolff Parkinson White.

 I really had to dig back into my nursing brain for this one. Heart blocks? Got it. Sinus rhythms? Yup, I know it. I can M.O.N.A. a patient right out of an acute coronary, but WPW? Yeah, I would have to read up on this one again. It was clear when I saw my EKG and saw the delta wave that appeared at the start of my QRS complex (sorry non-nursing audience), and I immediately had a flashback to the image of my mother fighting her vent after she had open heart surgery. 

I CANNOT HAVE OPEN HEART SURGERY IN MY MID-TWENTIES. 

When I got my diagnosis, it was right at the start of my last term of nursing school, and I was literally reading my notes in between the physician explaining referrals and symptoms, so I was not at a point to just dive into this situation to get it taken care of. Flash forward five months, degree finished and NCLEX passed, and my symptoms of pain, shortness of breath and insane palpitations have finally driven me to a point of facing my fear and just getting it all handled. 

The cardiologist scheduled me to wear a heart monitor for a month, which I creatively hid at work under a tied up flannel & pulled it off as a "Daisy Duke" look. I couldn't go on stage (my own courtesy for everyone at the club), which really took a big cut out of my money. But I dealt with it and figured I might be put on some sort of beta-blocker and call it a day. 

That was not happening.

I got a call from an Electrophysiotherapist, who specializes in fixing just this sort of problem, and he suggested I get a cardiac ablation. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me just insert a picture to give you an idea.

Basically, they are taking a catheter, sticking it into my femoral artery, and burning of the extra pathway that my heart decides to take when it makes a full forced beat. It is kind of like it taking a detour, but that detour is seriously fucking with my quality of life. 

I was so scared to schedule the procedure, but I decided to just say fuck it and get it over with sooner rather than later, since it IS the busy season for the club and I am ready to get over the hump of going home with zero dollars (which happened my last night working before the ablation). I am not missing out on good money, or a possible job offer, just to have to take off a few weeks for recovery as soon as I start. 

Let me tell you, there is nothing like filling out advanced directive paperwork to put shit into perspective. Furthermore, there is nothing like a very painful, scary and conscious heart procedure to snap you into reality. I am not exaggerating when I say that I thought I might actually die on that table. 

I had to stay awake during the procedure because I am sure the anesthesia would have slowed my heart rate too much and they would not have been able to fully induce me into SVT (basically, a very high heart rate) and irritate my heart rhythm enough to actually catch the abnormal pathway acting up and stop it in its tracks. I was absolutely NOT prepared for the experience I endured. The medication had me violently shaking, almost as if I was having a seizure. I could see my heart rate on the monitor climb up to 180 (my normal is 50, and any healthy person's should be 60-100), and I remember dealing with it fluctuating for about 2 hours before they were able to get a handle on the pathway to cauterize. Then came the heparin drip. If you have ever received heparin, you wouldn't forget the feeling. In nursing school, we are taught to warn our patients of the burning sensation, but now that I have experienced the pain, I would say that "burning sensation" is more like a wildfire being spread very fast throughout your veins. LITERALLY. I finally broke once the drip started and I could feel the tears start to flow, but I was not allowed to move. I couldn't even take a deep breath, which is my normal compensatory method for the hard palpitations. I felt trapped and scared. 

After four long hours, they finally decided to stop.

FOUR FUCKING HOURS. 

I was told that it is a real possibility that I may have to have it done again because they discovered a second abnormal pathway (of the very small chance of that being the case, it was indeed mine) and they couldn't activate it. For now, it was taken care of and I just needed to rest in recovery and be careful not to bleed out from my catheter site. 

Rest? How about recovering mentally from what I just went through? If I have to give this a positive swing (something I am learning from Mr. Tie Tuesday), I am glad I went through it firsthand because you really cannot prepare a patient for the feelings of being awake during a procedure and what they might endure. Not even if you read all of the medication side effects, or possible risks of the surgery, you just do not know unless you have been on that operating table and feeling a fucking catheter burn inside of your beating heart. I can be a good reference if I am ever working in the PACU. 

After 6 more hours of lying flat on my back, I was discharged and sent home with a crazy pressure dressing and directions on how not to bleed out and die (basically). That was three days ago. Today, I am finally feeling okay to walk around and move about on my own. Even though I have help here with my loveless boyfriend to take care of my little one, I always have that feeling like I am alone and I cannot just lay down and recover. I need to be productive, even if I have to take off the next few weeks of work (yay?). 

So here I am, blogging in a very clean living room (ugh, finally) and a glass of red, just relaxing (recovering?). Blogging makes me feel productive, though writing about the actual physical aspects of my heart is just one side of the beating it has taken this week. The emotional part... well, I guess that's an entirely different blog post all on its own. 

The hunt continues..

At this very moment, I should be at my second interview. I'm supposed to be showcasing myself to prove that I can be an asset to the facility and that I am moldable and eager to learn as a novice nurse, blah blah blah. Instead, I rescheduled it, and honestly will probably respectfully decline if even given an offer to accept the RN position.

Out of my circle of friends from school, only one gets my theory, but I'm really praying I am making the right choice. 

There is so much pressure to take the first job you get offered because the job market as a new grad RN, even with a BSN & PHN, is fucking tough. You submit the resume and letters of recommendation along with thousands of other new grads, with that number growing every few months, in hopes of at least landing one interview so they can put a face to the name and, if nothing else, remember you for another position. Trying to stand out in the sea of other eager, new graduates is something proving to be more challenging than expected. 

My job submission list is reaching close to 50 at this point, with one interview, two rejection letters, and no offers. About every other day, the career services center at my school sends a mass email for possible job opportunities, and off we go, all of us, once again, applying for the same positions along with the rest of the entire community of new grads, and at this point, most of us don't expect even a letter of rejection. Of course, any job sounds good right about now, or at least that's what everyone tells me. I had been ignoring the emails from the career services department regarding skilled nursing facilities because I hear complete horror stories, but after feeling frustrated in Hawaii, I decided to put in my resume for the next SNF opening. 

As luck would have it, the nursing manager emailed me with a scheduled interview time. I saw it and immediately thought well, shit. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to at least hear back from a possible job, but deep down I don't feel that I should just take what I can get, like everyone tells me. From the stories I hear about SNF's, they are underpaid, required to work insane hours beyond their contracts, and their nurse to patient ratio is borderline dangerous. As a new grad nurse, I want to be challenged, but damn I also want to keep my license too. To be perfectly honest, I don't even want to interview for this position because I feel I might be tempted to take it, and I don't know if it's a risk I should be taking.

I would be opening up a new facility, so I don't even have much to go on as far as day to day operations as of now. I assume I will have to manage a team of LVN's and CNA's, which would be great as far as teamwork and delegation on my resume for future opportunities, but am I ready for that? I feel like I would need training much longer than I might be offered. Or I could just take the position if it was offered to me, increase my malpractice insurance, and tough it out...

I don't know. I feel like I need to listen to my gut instinct on this one. I know a hospital RN position would be best for me, so why should I settle? Or even put patients in danger when I don't know if I would be ready? I know what I'm worth, and not for nothing but I know what my degree is worth, and I didn't bust my ass stripping through school to pay off a $127K tuition and end up at a SNF feeling untrained & underpaid. Maybe if I was younger and I had time to waste, but I feel like my first job is crucial. I mean, what if I couldn't even get into a med/surg position after the SNF experience? And since the OR is my ultimate goal, I know I still need acute experience for that.. will reputable hospitals even count a SNF as acute experience? And if I start my master's program by the summer for my NP, I will have to disclose that looking for another RN position at a hospital, and hospitals don't want a master's student, only a graduate. 

UGH.

My head hurts just thinking about it. I wish I knew the right choice to make. Or maybe my thinking is so way off and I should just take a SNF position. This is where having parents would be really great. Also, a way to look into the future would be nice. 

In any case, I'm going to go to the interview. If nothing else, I can practice answering disease process questions and medication recommendation scenarios. 

It can't hurt, right?

The Unfuckable Truth: Maintenance Sex

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Back to Cali.

After 11 glorious days of not working, I went back to the club this week. Even after rubber tramping, it felt so nice to not be in 8inch heels or have sweaty hands touching me. I even started to get back on a normal sleeping schedule and I stopped experiencing shooting pains in my back when I finally did get to bed. I have never taken off work that many days in a row, but damn I needed it! After the last night of me being at the club involved vomit all over my legs and ass (have I not posted this?), I was ready to get the fuck to Hawaii. I didn't even open up my fake number app the entire time, which will be a whole post on its own, and I loved it. 

However, all good things come to an end. I took an extra day off after coming back from Maui because there was an actual war going on in my uterus, so I ended up going in on Thursday. 

I almost don't even want to count it because it didn't feel like work. I went in after attending a nursing seminar with nurse managers from various hospitals around the area, and I was in such a good mood after that that I felt like I was beaming. Even more exciting was that I knew that one person was coming in to see me and I couldn't wait to tackle him. This is the same person I kept in contact with during my trip, my Mr. Tie Tuesday, the guy who I'm pretty sure is a long lost something of mine because well.. we get each other. People with the same humor get each other. Anyways, he got there before I did, and I was so excited that I ran out half dressed in my sweater, stripper bottoms and flats, and almost actually tackled him. 

I get too excited to see him. It's like being really hungry and then seeing the food being delivered to your table, if that weird analogy makes sense at all.

Maybe I just need to eat breakfast...

Anyway, the night was a blast. I felt great to have my first night back with Mr. Tie Tuesday because I know I will just hang out with him until he decides to call it a night, and I genuinely have fun. It was a perfect welcome back to work.

Friday night, I was still on the same high. I wasn't in the mindset of thinking about working all day.. I just kind of let it go. The bitchiness, the anger and the frustration just seemed to escape me during the day because I forgot what the night could bring me and I felt so carefree. That is a hard feeling for me to have. I went a little late after dinner in downtown, so I was surprised at how easy it all seemed. I don't know if it was my carefree attitude that guys were picking up on, or that glass of Pinot Noir was kicking in, but I was just a little ball of fucking happy-go-lucky sunshine. 

At one point during the night, this older gentleman grabbed my hand, asked me to sit with his friend, and plopped me in the lap of a man I very much recognized! I only remembered his middle name was Michael (even that is a stretch for me because I never remember names), but I instantly hugged him because I remembered I liked him. Sometimes I might not know their name, or how much they spent, but I remember that it wasnt a fight & they are actually fun company, so I go with my gut instinct. He didn't remember me at first, but once we were dancing he said, "Sasha! How could I ever have forgotten you!", and didn't have me dance with anyone else the entire night. 

If I may just say this without sounding ungrateful, once again, but as much as I love having guys that are nice company, respectful & spend money, this guy is a tough one. Not because of him, but because.. well....

He looks like my father.

This is something I didn't expect when I started dancing. I never thought that one day, 5 1/2 years later, I might dance with a man that so much resembles my dad. It is this one thing that almost makes me wish he was some asshole guy I could write off but NO. He's the opposite and so I have to grin and bear it. And of course, it isn't just one thing, it's EVERYTHING. His age, his light brown hair, his facial expressions.. jeez. Though I haven't met one person who exactly has my father's tough, Brooklyn, smart-ass attitude, this guy came pretty close. I actually closed my eyes during our dances. I FELT SO CREEPED OUT.

I wonder if other dancers have ever experienced this...

Thank goodness this guy paid me good or else I don't think I could've let it continue. It's almost shameful.

Last night was just a pleasant surprise that (almost) made me forget about how I danced with the lookalike of my dad. My Mr. Tie Tuesday came in unexpected and I couldn't be happier. The time seems to slip by so fast that it doesn't even seem fair. It's always nice to have good company around, and he is definitely that. 

I wish the happiness high could have stuck throughout the rest of the weekend, but alas, I am here on a Sunday night, TIRED AS FUCK (thank you redbull/vodka from last night), in this dead club, watching the few guys in here dance & sing to every song like it's a fucking kareoke bar (like, what is that?!). 

I guess I better get to it & scrape whatever money I can tonight.

Rubber tramp.

Well, it is finally the last day of my Maui vacation.

Please note that I said "finally" and not "already", because I am really ready to just go home.

The night after I passed my nclex, I sat at work by myself on the plush, stained red chairs that lined the wall, wondering how many more quiet nights I could tolerate in that place, when I got a text message saying only check your email.

I opened up my email to find two plane tickets to Maui, a congrats for passing my boards (and for a possible end to nightly panic attacks about the NCLEX). I freaked out and actually jumped out of my chair. I had wanted to do a super relaxing vacation after graduation, but my sociopathic mother made sure that didn't happen. After the dust settled with that whole situation, it was just in enough time to take the boards and since I had missed so much work to study, I pretty much figured Maui was out of the question. So when I saw that it was actually going to happen, and during my birthday week, I felt so overjoyed I didn't know what to do with myself! 

Over the next 6 weeks I went shopping for new bathing suits, read online blogs about the best waterfall trail excursions, and prepared for an amazing trip. I wanted to do the "best of both worlds": stay in a super nice resort hotel with an ocean view for the first half of the trip, and then move over to the other side of the island & literally stay in the jungle. 

I really, REALLY, should have thought it through. 

The first half of the trip was great. Though my company is very much detached & quiet, I tried to ignore that and have fun anyway, even if it felt like I was by myself. I drank my weight in Mai-tai's, snorkeled with turtles and went to an amazing, traditional luau on my actual birthday. I felt relaxed, constantly buzzed, and just generally happy. Sure, I didn't get the one fucking thing I actually wanted for my birthday, but I am NOT ungrateful (It's not like I sat back & had everything paid for me either, so I don't want it to come off like I am some spoiled chick).

On Friday, we checked out of the hotel & got the rental car to move on the other side of the island. After almost 4 hours driving, I was just ready to get there & plan out my hiking adventures. The place was absolutely perfect and just how I had imagined it: a little jungle house with overgrown trees, a shower half outside and it all sat just perfectly on the cliff side. The view was just PERFECT.  

 

I mean really, just look at that view. I felt like I was Mowgli from the damn jungle book, and it was awesome. As I cooked dinner, I noticed I had been itching my leg for quite a while now, and when I looked down, I saw that I had huge welt-like bug bites. EVERYWHERE. As I went to examine them closer, I let out a startled scream as a tiny gecko ran over my foot.

I knew then that I may have gotten in over my head.

And just to show you what kind of bites I was dealing with, let me insert this picture of just one 

Now, I'm not saying I am so unlucky because I am a negative person, but it just so happens that I actually do have the strangest things happen to me. The kinds of things that my friends say, "That would only happen to you!". A calm, routine paddleboarding trip will end up with me being rescued by a nearby boat & having a full blown panic attack, or my brand new car will get hit twice in one day (PARKED). It is just annoying at this point, and something I really had hoped would not carry into my vacation. 

BUT OF COURSE...

The hurricane was supposed to hit our side of the island on Saturday and last through Sunday. Since most of the waterfall trails were closed, I enjoyed the warm rain (my favorite kind of weather), dove into reading (and finishing) Gone Girl, and just driving around Hana to look at whatever I could find. It truly was beautiful. Everything was green and warm and utterly perfect. We found hidden caves that you can only explore with flashlights and ate fruit right from the tree. My nature craving was getting fully satisfied, even with most of the trails closed. I was wet, muddy, exhausted and LOVING IT. 

I don't know exactly when things changed, but once they did, it felt like everything just kept going wrong. Those welt-looking bug bites began to cover my entire body, including my face, ears and hands. Hell, I even had one on my eye that had started to swell. But, I didn't want to be that annoying girl, complaining about a bug bite (or twenty) or that I had to deal with spiders out in the wilderness, so I just kept pushing on. The next two nights were almost miserable because of the itching, so when the hurricane passed and the seven sacred pools opened (my only real desire to come to Hawaii was to knock things off my bucketlist and waterfalls of all kinds take up 85% of it), I was dousing myself in bug repellant and literally running in my mud-stained rainbow sandals down to the trail. After 4 miles in, covered again in huge, painful bites and experiencing a fall which ended up cracking the lens of my nice Nikon camera, I felt so done. I couldn't have walked out of that trail any faster. I felt like I was actually experiencing it all alone, despite being with someone, on top of everything else, which is totally fine if I am actually alone. I tried to focus on my reading and having long, hilarious conversations with a good friend (which, thank the heavens, really kept a smile on my face the entire trip), but the cracking of my camera was the last straw. It was the last thing keeping me sane and it was gone. 

I just wanted to go home. 

We drove back to the rental house, and it was decided it was time to figure out a new game plan. We checked out early (not without finishing that last glass of wine, of course), and set off to civilization. I felt like I was giving up and kind of sad, but I gave myself some credit considering my womanly time just decided to show up and my hormones were fucking everywhere. We went to go see Gone Girl since I had just finished reading it (and damn was I disappointed in the ending) & discussed our options for lodging for the night. I figured we would probably end up in a cheap hotel, until my brilliant travel companion said, "Hey! I really wanted to go see Jaw's cove. There's a campground nearby, what do you say?". 

At this point, I was so tired from the day, hiking, stress and my womanly situation that I agreed and said, "Wake me up when we get there". 

LET ME TAKE THIS TIME TO MAKE ONE THING CLEAR. We are never, ever on the same page. Some people just get each other and aren't surprised by the other person's actions. 

We are not those people. 

I awoke to a harsh brake, followed my a noise I recognized but didn't quite understand in my groggy state. I strained to open one eye and looked at the clock. At least an hour of driving. I looked out the window just as the lights were being turned off to see the water. The fucking ocean in front of me. 

"What in the actual fuck?! You have to drive back.. Back up, back up!" (I told you before, I am the anxious one. Instead of seeing us pull up close to the shore, I saw our car being swept under a huge wave and me leaving a 7-year-old child without a mother. Yeah, my mind always goes to the worst possible situation).

"Why do you have to be crazy?"

Ah. The first words actually directed at me, and it was a dumbass remark. I rolled my eyes and turned over, thinking we were leaving but no. It was too late to go anywhere else (my reasoning because I was exhausted) and I just wanted to sleep. I had, unknowingly, agreed to be a rubber fucking tramp for the last night on my "vacation". I am blaming my annoyance on my period, but what the hell?! I thought we were actually camping somewhere, not sleeping in the fucking rental minivan on the side of the highway. 

I couldn't sleep. I knew my period was a situation I had to deal with, not to mention my anxiety. Other rubber tramps were nearby, and all I could think about was someone coming up to the window, forcing me out with a gun to my head and taking off with the car. 

YEAH. My mind seriously goes there.

I was pissed and stayed in the front passenger seat, too tired to argue, but I somehow woke up with my heart monitor going off and tears covering my cheeks in the back row of seats. I had been waking up about every 15 minutes with horrific nightmares, and he was trying to stop me from shaking (because I seriously look like I might be having a seizure in my sleep when I get the nightmares). I wiped the tears, tried to quiet my heart monitor (because every beeeeep beeeep beeep sounds to ME like stroooke, heaaaart attack, suuuudden death) and realized I never dealt with my "situation".

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

I had went from sipping champagne at the Westin to basically showering in the fucking ocean on the side of the road. I just wanted to cry from feeling icky, angry, and just overall over it.

I know I sound like I'm just upset all of the time, but I really try my best to look on the bright side of things. Honestly, it isn't my strong suit and if it's that time of the month, forget it, because my hormones have decided my emotions for me and my uterus has decided to unleash it's full fury and pain inside of me, so just let me be.

After a coffee, brushing my teeth and washing my face in a fast food bathroom, even in all of my annoyance, I decided to make the most of my last afternoon. My traveling partner was begging to get me a hotel room, but I really just wanted to forget about it all. We went to the aquarium, had some drinks in silence, and ran our asses through the airport home-alone style, just barely catching our plane (which, really, would have put me over the edge if I missed another flight). We slipped into our seats and I finally was able to knock the fuck out. 

I will have to say, though, that maybe actually catching my flight is an end to this bad luck storm of the past few days. I am notorious for missing flights. Once, I sat with my headphones in in a corner boarding area, unknowingly watching every single person board my flight and take off. They had to pull me from the flight I actually tried to go on: New York > Japan. I know, I'm ridiculous.

I just cannot wait for this trip to officially be over, which won't be until I get my feet back on LA land. I want to smother my little panda's face with kisses, sleep in my huge California King bed, and get to fixing this crazy tan line. 

Aloha, mahalo, whatever. 

LA, my ultimate frenemy, I'm coming home.