Oh the Weirdness

My life is weird. I know everyone thinks their life is weird. But mine is. Tonight I got into a humungous fight with my husband about the word y'all's. Don't ask. All is resolved. But is that ridiculous or what? (And it was mostly my fault.) Also I'm a little bit mad at my parents and I miss them so much. But I feel like I'm in the rebellious wild part of my life where I question everything they ever told me and wonder if it's their fault I'm such a screw up. It's not. And I love them. I just think I realized that I am of an entirely different generation and I think I finally started thinking for myself. This is what I call gaining a personality. As it was, I was borrowing my personality from the people around me. As well as my opinions, likes, dislikes, core beliefs. Finally I realize -- Screw That. I'm sick of not having a mind of my own. Of course, this makes me kind of a pain the youknowwhat because I'm almost constantly questioning. Anyway... life is weird. Every time I think, "this is it" and settle down -- havoc immediately ensues. I'm in San Antonio now. I've finally recovered from my first entirely DE semester of school and from my summer school trip to Colombia (yes, the country, and yes, it is spelled with two O's and no U!). I've finally switched my doctors here so that I can get my stint with braces finished and my surgery done. I was thinking late January because I'm going home to England for Christmas and getting approval for these things can take months. And despite the fact that I know I won't be graduating on time, I have a plan. I found a church. We probably going to get to be involved with organizing and leading a connection group. I want to play in the band. I'm making friends -- I have my first lunch date with some girls here on Thursday. I've done nothing without my husband here in six months! This is exciting! I'm getting a life! And next year I'm supposed to keep doing school and my family is coming in April. I'm gonna take my brothers to the zoo and SeaWorld and Six Flags and Port Mansfield to see the deer and the circus. They're gonna see my church and realize how far from the trodden path I've wandered. :) And they'll see my apartment which is finally fully furnished except for the lack of dining room chairs and real TV and anything on the walls whatsoever. Life is great. And guess what --

There's a 50/50 chance that Ray is going to leave in February. Leave for a year for work. With his job, I knew it was coming. But They said (and by now we should know better than to believe a word They say, but They sound sooo convincing, sooo positive that we do believe They) that they would be going around June! JUNE! So I could get my surgery and recover. And do school. And chauffeur my parents around SA. And make friends. And build a ministry. And enjoy a nice quiet time of life. AND THEN move back to Springfield for a year to finish my bachelor's degree with the college of my choice while he deploys. It was a flawless plan. If he goes in Feb, I'm going in January. Basically, when we leave for Christmas, I'll have to be all packed up, because when we get back I'm moving to MO. In winter. I hate MO winters! I won't get to have my surgery (AGAIN!). My parents will have to rearrange their plans to visit me in MO. I'll have no where to take the kids except Branson (which sucks). And I'll get to watch all of my friends finish their final semester of college like I should be except I'm gonna be an eighth year senior before I graduate. And while some my say, why go back, wait until after your surgery -- I can't! It's this or graduate with the class of 2016. My degree is only offered at BBC and I've taken all of the classes I can take Distance Ed. We've been waiting for him to do this traveling stint so I could go back. It's just frustrating. You can't plan for anything. Not even six months. I'm tired. And I want life to be normal. Not weird (or whatever you call this).

Insomniac

I think I have insomnia. You know... that thing where you don't sleep. I looked it up yesterday. Apparently it's not the condition. It's the symptom. You aren't really diagnosed with it. You either have it or you don't and if you do it means something else is wrong with you. How much does that suck? Let's say - for lack of a better word - a lot. Not only does life suck because you can't sleep, but that isn't even the worse thing. Someone told me I should see a doctor. Sure, why not. But that same someone told me before to visualize sleeping and I would do it. Ok - maybe he didn't say it in such a new age way. But it felt the same. As though the sheer willpower of wanting to sleep would be enough for it to happen. What? I asked. You think I want to be lying here every night watching the seconds tick by of my sleepless night? As if. I like sleep. I need 9 hours of it to be fully function and kind. Six to just be functional. Less than that and you're just asking for trouble. I'm not even a Christian until 10 am (that's a joke - I am a Christian... but that's not really the issue... unless you want to make it one. I tried praying myself to sleep. That seems a bit... what's the word... WRONG! If I'm gonna talk to God, it should be on purpose right? No hidden agenda. I shouldn't get into the habit of talking to him just so I can put myself to sleep. That's just what I think...) Moving one. The person who said visualize and later say see a doctor told me before that the reason I wasn't tired when I went to bed is that I didn't work out regularly enough. I go to the gym 5 days a week now. I think it made it worse. I'll still go because I'm getting fat and I want to look like Julia Roberts one day (never gonna happen). But it's not because I want to sleep. I've done the Tylenol PM thing. Pretty sure I'm building an intolerance for it. You know, when you take something so often and so much that it's ineffective. Yeah - that's me. Drugs. I'm a lush. Or is that what you call an alcoholic. I'm not that. The point is... I've tried a bazillion things and here I am. Wide awake. Not sleeping. (Let me be clear here - when I say insomniac - I'm not like Meg Ryan in Prelude to a Kiss. She hadn't slept since she was 14. That's not my problem. I sleep. Kind of. It takes forever to fall asleep some days. Some days not that long. but I never feel rested. I toss and turn and feel awake all night. I watch the clock sometime because I'm actually awake. Sometimes because I'm in that miserable place in between. I dream -- vivid vibrant crazy dreams. About friends. About people that don't exist. About violence. About peanut butter. anyway... I wake up exhausted. And when I get in bed at night I dread it. The dark hours are the worst for me in every way. Maybe it's my own fault. But that bed hates me. And I hate it.) I'm so tired to consciousness. I'd like to disappear into the oblivion that night is supposed to bring. It's doesn't not for this nocturne. (Please forgive my abuse of the English language. It's usually intentional.) No, I am the living dead. A zombie cursed to suffer the tortured night and survive the cursed day.