What A Tuesday!

Tuesday what is going on? It's not quite 10AM. And I feel so out of sorts. I didn't sleep great last night. But honestly, that's nothing new. Or groundbreaking. But I woke up feeling so anxious. I was able to get myself ready on time. I basically ran to the bus stop. And then the bus never came...

I waited for almost 40 minutes. The bus I usually take, didn't show up. The second line that goes through the same area...never came. But that bus is notorious for not showing up. I checked online...and there was no bus on the way. So I was getting ready to walk to the main bus depot. And here comes a bus. By a miracle of God...I made my connecting bus. 35 minutes later than normal...but I made it.

Once I got to my normal stop, I realized I didn't put on my shorts, under my dress. About a month ago, I learned this the hard way. I'm positive I flashed everyone going into work one morning. Not on purpose. Just a sudden burst of wind. So I was being cautious on my 4 block walk. That includes going over a freeway. 

When my cousin's ex-wife popped out of nowhere. Stopped in the middle of the busy street. She wanted to give me a ride. I was less than 2 blocks from where I volunteer. So I assured her I was OK. And we were blocking traffic. She then told me to tell my Mom Hi and that she missed her. I nearly burst into tears right there. She didn't know my Mom died over a year ago. It was so weird. I just stood there. Like if someone had hit me over the head. That was a first.

In the end, I was only running about 40 minutes late. Which isn't really late. If I'm supposed to be checking in at 9:30AM. But I'm used to being early. Not rushing. Having some time to go pick up something to eat. Because I'd forgotten my breakfast at home. The Gas Station had already sold out of the yogurt I usually buy. They didn't have any bananas. So I left.

At this point, on a normal day, I'd go for a 20-30 minute walk around the neighborhood. But I didn't have time today. So I walked across the street. And towards the building where I volunteer. To almost be hit by a doctor. Whom I'm going to guess...was late to work. Because it was 8:20AM. And he was driving like a crazy man. It was me, a Porsche, an elderly lady that was slightly ahead of me with a walker, the big work truck that was trying to get through, or the curb. He ended up driving over the curb, hitting the landscaping, and yelling at all of us. I just thought...either you were going to kill that lady or me. Or crash into that Porsche. And then I'm assuming there would have been a ton of trouble. Because the owner likely would have had a heart attack...over being hit in a parking lot.

So I came straight to check in. I'd originally planned to go to Medical Records. Because I need my parents' records for my Genetic Testing. But I was already out of sorts. I actually checked in 2 minutes before my usual time. But this morning has really thrown me. 

I also forgot I was meeting someone who had ordered a stuffed toy from me. So I had to dash outside. And the parking lot is so full today! Since I got here...there was very little parking. What is happening today? I got to my customer. And back inside. To find the Gift Shop a mess. And not stocked. So I spent a good 40 minutes doing that before opening. 

Lately, I've noticed things like time...really get me flustered. Or if something throws my day off. I struggle to steer things in the right direction after that. I don't know what it is. I was prescribed some meds for anxiety. But if you know anything about me. I don't like to take medication, unless I absolutely need it. So I haven't been taking them. But I probably should have taken one this morning. I still feel jumpy. And not myself. Plus I'm so hungry!

Would You Change Your Name?

With my friend's upcoming wedding...there has been a lot of marriage talk lately. Can you believe I was voted, "Most likely to get married and have kids first"...as a high school senior? I'm more like the "Last Woman Standing."

I didn't date in high school. My parents just didn't believe in that sort of thing. I was also preoccupied with school and school activities. A couple of weeks into college...I almost got married. To a man I wasn't dating. I'd known for a few short weeks. I was attracted to him...but we didn't know each other. In all honesty, we were trying to find a way to pay for college. Because it's expensive! And who wants to take out loans? Especially since I now had a mortgage.

You read that right. I was 18 years old. Had been living alone in my 3 bedroom home for nearly 3 months. Hundreds of miles from anyone I knew. Struggling to pay for college. Which I never wanted to attend. I wanted to go to design school. Secretly I wanted to get married and have 12 babies. Live on a Ranch.

So I met a boy. Technically a man. Who was a musician like myself. We had a lot in common. And we heard about his friends who'd recently gotten married...and wait for it! College was completely paid for, for the newlyweds. Some loophole at the time, in our state.

So we devised a plan. Get a marriage license between rehearsals on Tuesday. Which meant going to the Student Health Center on Monday. Before our gig on Friday, we'd go to the Courthouse. And get married. We'd live in our separate homes. He lived about 1/2 mile down the road from me. And when we had our home interview...we'd stage it. Move some of his stuff into my home. In all honesty, all of our stuff combined, still wouldn't have filled up half of my house. Neither of us had much furniture. 

Little did we realize...we are both very traditional chicanos. 

The day came. We were in our trajes. Had one hour and an appointment, before we had to hit the road to go work. In the desert...we were having the worst rainstorm of the year. Water was gushing down the roads. And my pal...was very sweet. Had gone to a Pawn Shop. Bought 2 very simple rings. Brought some roses. Hit the, "Something new, something old, something borrowed, and something blue." Carried me into the Courthouse. So I wouldn't get wet. 

And we waited. 18 year old me. Sitting there, waiting to marry a 21 year old man. That I'd known for 2 weeks. I luckily knew his last name. But not much else. He played the guitar. Was getting a business degree. And was a fan of hats. In the end, the judge was running late. And we had a paying gig to get to. We left. Said we'd try again in a week or two. But fate intervened. 9/11 happened. The entire world changed. Eventually my friend got a scholarship through a local tribe. And your girl, spent her college years living alone, in that 3 bedroom home. With a mortgage that stressed me out, more than finals and clinicals combined!

At different times of our lives, we'd both regret leaving the Courthouse unmarried. But we both know now, that had we gotten married, it would have been for good. We would have had those 12 babies. And lived on his family's Ranch. But neither of us would have finished college. He wouldn't have chased his dreams. And accomplished so much in his career. And who would have taken care of my parents? Maybe this was the way it was meant to be. Just friends. With a funny story to share.  

Ironically, we'd try to date later. Long distance. We'd almost kill each other. My calm self, would launch a stiletto in his direction. He'd launch a 5 carat engagement ring into the Atlantic. We wouldn't speak for 5 years? And now, it's his baby brother that's getting married. Neither of us are married. Or dating. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone forever. 

But their older sister, asked me something that got me thinking...

When you get married...will you change your last name? Two things big sis...If I ever get married. Because honestly, I'm currently traveling a dead end road. And I'm pretty sure that I'll never figure out how to navigate dating or having any sort of relationship. I'm being brutally honest here. I'm 40 years old...and I can't even figure out how to make a friend. The people I talk to most every week, are the security guards were I volunteer. Oh and my trashman.

I had my head stuck in books for too long. My parents had certain expectations. Oh, and the pandemic happened...the entire world changed. I'm incredibly shy. And unsure of myself. In that aspect. So marriage? You'd need to date first. Probably on some level be friends before that. I just don't have those life skills. I wish there were arranged marriages in my culture. Maybe I'm too old? Too independent at this point. Maybe not pretty enough. 

I am very much a traditionalist. In a ton of ways. I believe women should have dreams and careers. But in the deepest part of my heart, I feel like once you get married and have kids, you should be home. Making a home. Taking care of things for your husband...the provider. Spending time with your children. Loving and nurturing your family. Probably because I didn't have that growing up.

My parents owned a business. My entire life. I was left alone a lot. A lot! Or with my grandparents or one of my aunts. I didn't have siblings or cousins near my age. So I hungout with a lot of grownups. Mostly elderly people. In a very traditional neighborhood. It's the life I always wanted. Not sure when I took such a HUGE detour...

I spent my 20s in college. Struggling. Working 100 different jobs at once. Bought a home and paid it off. My 20s were all about work. I figured my 30s would be all about having fun. I'd date then. I'd have a solid career. I'd have time. I could find love. Have those babies I always dreamed of. And create the close family that I never had. But my Dad got sick. Then my Mom. And one day, I woke up and they were both gone. I was alone. And near 40. 

So now I'm highly skeptical that I'll ever be married. I never dreamed of a big wedding. I was more like the girl that was in 150 weddings. I've donated so many bridesmaid's dresses, that the local charity shop thought I owned a business. But that has been my solid role in life. Help my friends find spouses. Plan their weddings. Be in said weddings. Then be the Godmother to at least one of their babies. My favorite part has been, all the beautiful Goddaughters. And now my one Godson. I do have friends. We just live 100s if not 1000s of miles apart. At one point of my life, I made some friends. Even if I can't figure out how to make a friend...in the city where I currently live. 

I used to joke with my Mom. That I was going to find me a Maintenance Man in the hospital. We'd get married during our lunch break. At the Courthouse. By a JP, instead of a priest. I'd wear my scrubs. And we'd go eat in the hospital cafeteria after. My Mom was devasted! None of her kids got married or had babies in her lifetime. She dreamt of the big weddings and all that stuff for me. She'd tell me, to at least let her know beforehand. So my parents could be there. I worked about 4 hours away from my parents' home. They'd need a little time to get there. 

And now? Well, I feel like I'm too old for the big wedding. Are there things I'd like...if I potentially got married? Yes! Many traditions from my culture and faith are so beautiful. But I feel like I have 5 family members who are still alive. That's what happens when you're the baby of 9. And cancer blows up your family. 

So would I change my name? Maybe. A strong maybe. In a past lifetime, I'd say yes. I'd stay home. Be the house maker. Who cooks breakfast for her husband every morning. Packs him a healthy lunch. Stays home with her babies. Is involved with all the school stuff and activities. Cleans and does all those traditional roles. Including having a hot dinner on the table, every night. At least put one of my degrees to good use. 

But then there is this incredibly independent and resilient woman, who has survived so much! I feel like I should be twice my age. I put myself through college. I bought a home. I took care of my dying parents for 12 years...completely ALONE! That lady says...you're not taking my last name. My degrees were earned with my Maiden name. And I'm keeping those roots. Not changing it. Not hyphenating anything. Just keeping it. 

I'd also like to avoid the MVD and any future eye exams at all costs! So I'm keeping it. But I know, if I met the right man. If we had children in any capacity, I'd want us all to have the same name. If he was the bread winner and all that jazz...I'd definitely do it. Without a doubt...if children were involved.

Fun fact, my parents got married very quickly. They began dating in March. They took a road trip to Mexico. In April. And got married. It wasn't legal in the US. But to the two of them, they were married. I arrived the following March. And it wasn't until I was 5 years old...that I began to ask all the questions. I was very concerned with the fact...that we had different last names. While every other kid in my school, had the same last name as their parents. Both parents. It was the 80s. 

I harassed and harassed. By the beginning of December, my parents got married. A big wedding! I believe my Auntie and I planned the entire thing. She used to watch me when I was younger. I was even in my parents' wedding. It was the best day! I can still remember being so excited. Not by the beautiful dress or the delicious cake. But the fact that we all had the same last name.

If the time comes, and I know there will be no children. If I am working in my career. If my diplomas are being used. There is a very good chance, I'll keep my name as is. Even for this very traditional woman, there are some things worth fighting for. 

And some worth sacrificing. I feel like a woman who changes her name, should be taken care of. Almost like, if your husband is taking you on as his responsibility. Financial and physically. If you intend to have children. A name change is and should be expected. 

But if I'm basically just going to live my life, like I currently do. And I'm just adding in a partner. Well then, we're partners. If I'm contributing 50% of the financials, we have no children, why should I make that HUGE change? Life is just so different now. I mean, even the thought of dating...makes me want to stay single forever. Because the men out there dating now...they got one thing on their mind. That's it. They have no sense of loyalty or commitment. Forget being responsible for their kids...much less a wife!

The fact that they expect you to drive yourself to the date. Pay for yourself. Then have sex with them. Never to be heard from again. Nah. I'm just not into that. Remember I said I'm a traditionalist. I expect a little bit of courting. Some romance. For you to at least buy me dinner. Not judge me based solely on my appearance...meanwhile you're 30 lbs overweight. Get winded walking from the door to the table. And have no cash to even leave the staff a tip. No, I'm good. I can take myself out to dinner. Meanwhile, me and my chubby legs are running 5 miles a day. Not for looks. But for health. 

So Big Sis...I'm probably going to be single, childless, and with the same name forever. I ain't mad about it. Just disappointed, that this is where I let my life trainwreck into. Alone in a hole. Trying to adopt a baby. We'll talk about that...another day. For now, this single lady is going to enjoy 3 days of wedding fun. If nothing else, let me find a good dance partner. I need a little bit of fun in this life. 💜

Trying to Find My Way Back

When I first entered the HealthCare arena...as a working professional, I was 20 years old. I lived and went to school in a community that was underserved. And depended greatly on the college students. Who at the time, worked in our local healthcare system, and held 80% of those jobs. The thing is, my college has this amazing nursing program. And the Nutrition Program is also greatly sought after. A little hidden gem if I'm being honest. 

So weeks into switching my major, I was working at my local Department of Health Office. About 2 months in, I was in the ICU of our local hospital. It was all very quick. But then again, I was a quick study. My professors and the doctors I worked under, felt like I could handle it all.

I spent a solid 10 years working. In hospitals. In clinics. Doing research studies for the Universities I attended. Eventually, I became a contractor for the Hospital System my family uses. And when I made that leap, to move home and take care of my aging parents, I slowly slipped away from work.

Maybe I was naive. I thought after my Mom's services, I'd be back to work. Maybe take the Summer off. And then jump head first. What I didn't anticipate was the mental unpreparedness. 

For the first couple of years, after I moved to take care of my Dad, I had continued to work. When and where I could. I was a contractor where he received care. So I'd fill the gaps where I could. Mostly working at the Main Hospital. On weekends, I'd drive 4 hours to return to the Children's Hospital where I worked. During the week, I'd check into our local hospital when I could. I also had a pretty flexible position within our state's Department of Health.

Eventually my Dad's health got to be so bad, that I had to stop working. His care, basically became 24/7/365. We couldn't trust him to drive. He was being hospitalized more and more often. Falls were so common, the local Fire House knew us personally. Things were just spiraling downward. And when my Mom could step in to help...it usually left me doing something for their business. So work was on hold. 

After my Dad's death, I struggled. Mostly silently. With grief. I tried to keep everything together. More so for my Mom. She needed me to be strong. I continued to go to a Support Group that we'd attended as a family. In the Cancer Center where my parents received care. I'd visit my Dad's grave daily, while my Mom was at work. She'd returned part time. 5 months after his death. But I knew I was having a tough time. I saw the hard stuff, that no one else saw. I helped my Dad, keep things from my Mom. Like when I actively knew he was dying. And so did he. But he didn't want her to know.

I gave my Mom and I a goal. One year. At one year, I'd start taking the necessary steps to move back to my home. To reclaim my life. And to get back to the career I'd abandoned. I also felt like that was a good amount of time, to attend the Support Group. Not to mention, I was having TeleMed appointments with my therapist 4 hours away.

Something was off with my Mom. I thought it was the grief of losing my Dad. She didn't go to counseling like I did. She didn't even know that I was seeing a therapist. My Mom held tight to her faith. When I brough up moving, my Mom slightly panicked. 

I thought maybe it was because she hadn't really taken care of any finances, since her and my Dad got together. And after his death, I was the one paying the bills. Making sure things stayed on track. But that wasn't it either. Maybe she didn't want to live alone. I mean, we sort of inherited a dog 2 weeks after my Dad died. And when I brought up moving...my Mom instantly fought me for the dog. The dog she didn't want, when my cousin didn't pick her up. The dog that was attached to me. Literally, attached to my side. At all times. So I'd spend 3 months looking in all the City Shelters. To be told, I needed to get a puppy. Or the two dogs would never get along. Long story short, I ended up with a puppy. So technically, neither of us would be alone.

But that wasn't it either. We'd spent that first summer, basically at my Dad's graveside. Daily my Mom wanted to visit him. We'd have lunch there. Take the dog. Sit for hours. Listen to music. Read books. Just talk. About 9 months after his death, my Mom was just not OK. I couldn't put my finger on it. We were fighting a lot. She seemed off. But I didn't know what was really bothering her. 

I let things go for a few more months. I figured we could talk again, around the anniversary of my Dad's death. I thought, I could move in June. Take a few weeks to get things in order. Then I could go work in July. But my Mom wasn't having it. 

I knew she had a long trip planned with my Aunt and Uncle. So instead of going back to work in July, I told my supervisor, I'd go back in December. Why are those the only times when they want you to enter the workforce? It's a hospital thing. So we agreed December. But my Mom got sick that Summer. And was diagnosed with cancer in September. She spent at least 6 months, in excruciating pain. At diagnosis, the Hospitalist told her she could no longer work. Or drive. Basically, if she couldn't drive...she couldn't work. So there I was. Back at square one. Not sure what I should do.

My plans to go to work were thrown out the window. Fast forward a bit. About 6 months after my Mom's diagnosis...she either started to tolerate the pain better. Or maybe it got slightly better. She slowed significantly on her pain meds. And I decided, we needed some income. So I entered the workforce. With the Department of Health (DOH). Previously, I'd worked in their Clinics. Both the basic clinic. And with Women, Infants, and Children. So I took a job with WIC. 

I didn't realize it was going to be so tough. But it was, what it was. I worked online when I could. I'd go into one of our local offices to teach classes. Once a week. But my Mom, she wasn't doing well. She was struggling with basic stuff. The pain got worse. Neither of us had decent doctors. We were still trying to get her Health Insurance.

Eventually, I stopped going in to teach. Because I couldn't leave her. My Mom couldn't pick up a gallon of milk. Or bend to pick up laundry. She couldn't open a bottle of water. So I did the online thing. For a few months. Eventually, it just wasn't working out.

I'd spend the next 4 years, taking care of my Mom. We got into selling at our local Growers' Markets. Selling our crafts. I started helping friends. Who in return would give us veggies, pies, and bread. Whatever they sold. I just tried to help. And was so grateful for the help that they gave us in return. 

At the high point of the pandemic, I started doing TeleMed appointments. Both for the DOH/WIC and the Children's Hospital where I once worked. Technically, I'm on a leave of absence. I took FMLA when my Dad got sick...and then just changed the leave when my Dad's health worsened. 

From time to time, I still help them. Especially during RSV Season. I tried to convince a good friend of mine, to take a Part-Time RD job with them. But she is happily raising her daughters. I worked remotely from May 2020-July 2021. But my Mom was needing more and more help. By July she'd had two falls. And broken her arm multiple times. She know needed help bathing. I needed to do all the household chores. 

So naively, I thought I'd start working 6 months ago. Until my therapist raised the Red Flag of doom. That she didn't believe I was ready for work. Not only the stress. But it's not like I'm going to be behind a desk. Or dealing with numbers. Or cleaning. I'm going to have people's health and lives in my hands. She just didn't feel like I was ready.

In October I applied to volunteer. In the Hospital. It's a 5 minute drive from my home. I figured I could start with one day a week. See how everything goes. But that's not where they needed me. I ended up at the Hospital nearest the Cancer Center. Not with patients. But in the Gift Shop. Huh?

It's been OK. As my OCD has gotten worse, it has been a mixed blessing for the Gift Shop. I've torn it apart. Cleaned. Organized. I've decorated for every Holiday since I've been volunteering. In January, I started volunteering twice a week. When two of the volunteers got into a fight. 

For the last few weeks, I've been here three times a week. Because the other volunteers are struggling to get along. And they've taken some time off. Again, it's not the place where I want to be. I want to be making a real difference. Not staring at the walls. For 2 hours. Then having a big surge...of selling junk food. Then being bored and stocking shelves.

I know the employees value the Gift Shop being open daily. Especially since the cafeteria isn't always open. We're now open daily. For four hours. It's a steady thing. But last week, on my third day of the week being here. I decided to take a look at the Volunteer Listings. There's rarely anything at this location...that is available. Outside of the Gift Shop. So I started to read through all the listings.

I decided that maybe something clerical woud be good. I could do that for a few months. Then maybe move to something with the patients. I found something. Agreed to all the terms. Sent my necessary documents where they needed to go. And I got it. I was quite pleased with myself. Took all of 5 minutes. 

When I got home on Thursday, I decided to read through my emails. And I found the Volunteer email. I didn't realize it was for the Cancer Center. It's a clerical position. I honestly, don't have a clue what my duties are. The listings are pretty vague. Hence, I didn't know it was in the Cancer Center when I applied. 

It starts in May. I knew it was weekly. But I wasn't sure, how long it would be for. Turns out, 5 months. It also conflicts with one of my days in the Gift Shop. I knew that when I applied. But I'm OK with letting that go. Since my goal is to ultimately get back to work. The Gift Shop is not going to help with that. 

I truly hope that I do OK in this position. I'm hoping to also take a minor position at the Main Hospital. Reading to the NICU babies. That would be weekly as well. 4 hours too. I might try to start that one, later this month. Then if everything is going OK, by July, I'd like to talk to my therapist about going back to work again. Those are my goals to reclaiming my career. Little by little.