Nothing Right

Do you ever have those times when you feel like a complete and utter loss as a human being? 

I thought I was done feeling this way in regards to teaching this past semester as I had turned in my grades on December 17th. Oh, nay nay. I checked my e-mail this morning, after a 6 and a 1/2 hour grueling campaign to beat the Germans and Japanese in Call of Duty 4, and found a message from one of my students questioning the grade received. 

I immediately had that not so fresh feeling and rifled through my grade book and found I had shorted all of my students 50 points, or 5% of their grades. Luckily, my mistake only changes a few grades, so I can save some face... but not all of it. 

This, of course, after I had to admit to 5 students I had lost their papers about a month ago. 

What shall I do, you may ask? Well, I shall not worry about it at 3 am and I shall deal with it in the morning, contacting the very same bosses to tell them I've made yet another boo-boo.

Why? Why am I an idiot? And why, for the love of everything good and pure, can I NOT do math?

Irish Hospitals

Ireland - not entirely sketchy... just the bits in Dublin.

We left to Ireland on Saturday afternoon and flew via Ryanair - a very good, cheap option for flying throughout Europe if you don't mind flight delays on every flight you're on. Anyhoo, since there are lots of people who want to fly cheap, the flights are almost always full. On our flight, I met two very nice English ladies, and one not so nice English lady who didn't cover her mouth when she coughed (I promise this will make sense and tie in.... but I'm kind of hopped up on cold pills...).

Anyways, when we got to Dublin, we took a taxi into town because we didn't really know where our Hostel was located. 27 Euros later we we relieved to find that our Hostel wasn't in the section of Dublin that looked like Compton - instead, we were in the section that looked like regular L.A. The hostel itself though, was very nice. Very attractive Irish blokes at the front - check. 16 bed mixed-sex room - check. Token American girls who made me embarrassed to be American - check.

We walked around the city for about an hour and quickly realized that EVERYBODY bloody smokes there. We even saw 4 12 year-olds craned over a bridge sneaking puffs from a cigarette - gross. Then we went to a traditional Irish pub and I had Shepard's Pie, which was magnificent and got hit on by 3 drunk Irishmen - so neat! Then, to top things off, I saw a crack whore in the bathroom. No. For real. There was a scantly clad woman stuffing small ziploc bags containing white pills into another ziploc bag - sketchy. Then we walked the streets of Dublin and took in the live bands, leprechauns, and more drunk Irishmen.

The next day was wonderful though - we went on a tour to Wicklow, which is in the country. Basically we saw incredible lakes, churches, cemeteries, monasteries, more lakes, and sheep, lots of sheep. While we were hiking around, I noticed a complete lack of energy on my behalf - note the story starting to tie in and the real purpose behind this post :D - and a sore throat coming on.

I am very, very susceptible to strep throat/tonsillitis, hence the woman coughing on the plane would have done well to cover her f****ng mouth. Suffice it to say that by the time we got back at midnight, I could barely speak/breathe. At about 12:30, I had a full-on asthma attack and had to be transported to a hospital in an ambulance - which took longer than a cab to get to our hostel; standardized health care - strike one.

They rushed me right in to see a nurse, but no doctor. My nurse/ the only nurse on staff for the night was a freaking bitch and told me I was having trouble breathing because I forgot my inhaler - yeah. People who forget inhalers regularly throw up when struggling to breathe. She also repeatedly told me to calm down, which I was trying to do, but you know, not breathing for almost a minute is somewhat scary... crazy, right? Anyways, after a breathing treatment, I was told to go wait to see the doctor. It took FIVE FREAKING HOURS!!! Standardized health care - strikes two and three.

When I finally saw a doctor, she basically told the nurse to be nicer to me because I was obviously in respiratory distress and also had tonsillitis. Lame. After another breathing treatment, blood tests, and chest x-rays, I was finally released at about 6:30 in the morning.

There were many more exciting details, but suffice it to say, the last third of my time spent in Ireland was not fun - at all. I've been down and out for the past few days, but am finally feeling a little better today. We're going to Stratford Upon-Avon tomorrow and I'll be seeing Avenue Q tomorrow night, but I missed Stonehenge and am super sad about having to "rest" whilst in Europe. Friday we're headed to Paris and Barcelona, so hopefully this cold won't be any more of a nuisance.

Sorry about the rant/extended blog, but I'm kind of whiny right now. Overall, Ireland = fun; Irish hospitals = shame on you.

Find a Happy Place

Sometimes, being happy is a battle for me. I imagine myself as a stanch fighter in some kind of war, like the war at the beginning of "The Lord of the Rings" movie, fighting against the powers that would make me unhappy, because the key to happiness lies just on the other side of the opposing army. A weird picture to be sure, but that's what happens when you're a dork with an overactive, visual imagination.

Last February 14th, I was realized I had depression. Two days later, I was diagnosed with severe depression and severe anxiety. Writing, or saying, this on paper or out loud is not difficult when I share my experience with a trusted few. I knew that I would inevitably share this particular trial with many. And for some reason, I feel the need to share tonight.

The two months prior to that fateful day, and the three months after, were the hardest in my life. I have never known despair to that extent. I felt hopeless, helpless, miserable, and empty. I had nothing to give; I could only take.

But, and this is a big but, because I knew sadness to that depth, I knew that I could also experience happiness to that degree, and more. 

There is a stigma in many cultures, particularly in the Utah culture, that the word depression is a synonym for crazy. I think this is why I don't share my experience with many. I am not ashamed of myself, but leaving the sacred parts of my life open to the judgements and sneers of those who choose not to understand is difficult.

I heard once that we should not share sacred experiences with many, because they lose their sanctity, much like I shouldn't tell someone I'm in love with them when I really am unsure of my feelings. And although my trial with depression is sacred, I refuse to let an unhappy memory have power of my life. Instead, I choose to let it be a secure foothold in my life. A place where I know I have strength, courage, and experience so that it cannot be an unhappy memory anymore. Depression has been replaced with wisdom and love.

There are many things that help me now. I don't feel the need to share them. I just want to illustrate that sometimes my happiness is a choice and a battle. Today was a difficult day to keep fighting though.

The past few days have been really tough. I missed an extremely important grad school deadline and almost forgot another. I still have no idea what to do with my life after August, I feel like I'm in limbo, I feel like I can't do anything right, that people have no faith in me, and that if they do have faith in me that it's a wasted effort, and that all things that I have been trying to do "better" lately have been for naught. I feel depressed.

Maybe it's the time of year or the fact that the sun hasn't been out in a really long time, maybe I'm fighting what I'm supposed to really be doing instead of what God needs me to be doing, maybe I don't know what I really want. Maybe it's P.M.S.

I don't know. 

What I do know is that writing about this helps me. Sharing my experience does too. Maybe that's all I need to know right now.

A Bi-Polar Day

Today has been a weird day. A bi-polar day if you will.

And to start off today, I must start off with last night. A good friend delievered a healthy baby last night and I was able to meet this incredible person. She's exquisite, tiny, and beautiful and as I held her, a magnificent peace came to me. I watched her with her mother and father and sister and the quite in the room made a surreal memory that is imprinted forever. I want my own little people someday - not today - but someday. Seeing a brand new person and smelling that baby smell made me appreciate life much deeper than I have recently as I soaked in the bath last night - reading, reflecting, and listening to Buster (the Prodigal iPod returned last night!).

This bliss was ephemeral, as bliss often, not always, but often is. As I'm embarking into the wonderful world of student teaching next semester, I was hoping, and let's be honest, praying, that I would be assigned to a teacher that would be a catalyst for the proverbial spark. Today I learned that next semester will be a rigorous course in what not to do - I was disappointed by this knowledge and after I vented my frustrations in present and participle tenses of a certain four letter word, I felt mildly better.

Then I watched "Motherboy XXX." This episode of Arrested Development can be found in Season 2, on Disk 3. A highly recommended activity - after all, medical research supports laughing.

Then I got a retainer to complete my braces. And no, I don't like it when people call me "Brace Face," "Metal Mouth," or "Train Tracks." It wasn't funny in middle school when I had braces and just because I'm older doesn't make it funny now.

Then I went to Advanced Theory where we talked about feminism and Beloved - and yes, I am geeky enought to consider this an upswing in my day.

Then I went to work, where life wasn't so bad, but it is my nightly custom to expect that no one will drop by or disturb me after I return home from said employment. Not the case tonight. There were no less than three sets of visitors this evening - a statistical anamoly to be sure. One of the visits promted me to write the poem below.

Then I decided I knew what would utilmately make me feel better. But alas, there is no money for a coke slurpee right now, the usual kick to my endorphins. I located the following on youtube.com. I hope that it makes you feel better if you're having a bad day. And if you're having a good day, enjoy the bliss, for sometimes it truly is ephemeral.