I've been mulling some things over these past few weeks. I don't know, exactly, when it happened, but I realized one day that I am feeling nearly 100% better physically. It feels so good to be healthy again. I no longer live my life around food, I no longer do the binge/starve cycle, I don't compulsively exercise--I do it for the right reasons, and it's just been so liberating. Granted, I have days where all I see is the Michelin tire man looking back at me from the mirror, but it doesn't trouble me the way it might have a couple of months ago. I just shrug it off, know that image is merely in my head, and go about my business... which often includes a peanut butter sandwich.
I was able to quit my job today, and I find myself missing the good parts of it, for example, some of my coworkers and the residents themselves. I do start my new job tomorrow, and everyone seems very nice thus far--but most importantly, calm. Hallelujah. I'm enough of a spaz without being surrounded by them.
I've also decided to go through my RN, then work on med school. At this point, it is too much of a time and financial commitment that I can't make. I can get through an RN program in 3-4 years, then make enough to finance medical school and have enough experience to bypass much of my residency should I decide to go be Dr. Black. We shall see! Either way, should this universal healthcare bill be passed, it will be less likely that I'll get to work for a private practice like I want to, but hopefully the bill won't present a state of permanence and I'll get to do what I bloody well want to eventually. I think the areas that appeal to me most are reconstructive surgery, communicable diseases and obstetrics/gynecology or pediatrics.
I am this close to smacking my mother in the face. She is renewing her vows on Saturday, and has rapidly turned into Bridezilla. I want to jump off of the roof of my house and land on a spiky fence a la Virgin Suicides sometimes. She, for one, wants me to play violin, and I haven't picked up that $*&%ing instrument in close to ten years. I can't even read sheet music anymore. I miss it, yes, but that does not mean that I can play anymore--is it like riding bike? Well, sure, but the sheet music doesn't come back that quickly when one wasn't all that brilliant at reading it in the first place. *rolls eyes* So, she is skulking around the house like some slimy monster, muttering under her breath that her kids aren't doing anything. I don't know what else she wants me to do, other than scrub down the basement (I have done this at this point), play the violin (of which I am utterly and sadly incapable), and put up with her bullsh$t (which I do, with a big, scary smile on my face.) The stress is such that I have sprouted nasty frustration bumps (aka pimples) that are just disgusting. It is just... I don't know, I can see where my sister gets her insufferable personality from when my mom goes into this mode. Unfortunately, I think genetics are against us on both ends a lot of the time. I can't believe I'm not more effed up than I already am.
I am sorely missing rugby and have decided to play again. If I choose to fulfill my goal of a spring marathon, this sport could contribute to my training. The only problem is how the heck do I practice until September...? I know no rugby players around here, nor is there anyone I can really practice with. :(
Zoey is in need of a wakeup call at this point... so, Kait out. So long, folks!