New Challenges

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Well, I've been pretty terrible about updating this, but in my defense, it's midterm season and I work full-time AND my mother-in-law was here over the weekend, so I'm considering it a win that I am upright, dressed, and haven't committed any felonies. SO. Where are we?

I totally failed at weekly wishes, so let's try this again, shall we?

The Nectar Collective
Last week's wishes/goals were:

1.Purge my closet and dresser/reorganize my drawers.
2. Be a better Snail Mail Collective Participant
3. Buy new windshield wipers and get the car washed. Get the battery checked.
4. Finish the endless baby blanket.
5. Get ahead on school work.

And I did exactly NONE of them. I did work on the endless baby blanket and I did spend 5 hours studying on Sunday, but the baby blanket remains unfinished and the studying didn't put me ahead, just kept me from slipping behind. This week, my main goal is to study my face off for my immunobiology exam. Ok, not literally, because ew,  but seriously, study a LOT.  The exam is on Monday and I am almost finished with the take-home portion of the exam (which is a beast in and of itself). I'm going to the TA office hours tomorrow to get some questions cleared up, which should be helpful. I'm also meeting up with a few girls from my class on Friday night to continue the study fiesta that we started this past Sunday. Monday night by 9:30, I will be ready to collapse into a pile... but I can't because I have another midterm later that week! WHOO HOOOOOO!!!! ::falls over::

When I'm not studying, I plan to work on taking care of the other items from last week's list, but I am making no promises to do anything except probably not die. I'll do my utmost. This weekend, Ken and I are heading to Maryland to visit my aunt and her husband (he's technically my uncle, I guess, but they only got married a few years ago, so we just call him by his first name, haha) and I'll have time to knit in the car, so hopefully that'll knock out the baby blanket. As for the rest... we'll see.

Let's see... what else? Oh! AMCAS finally processed my application and it was sent to the sole MD school I applied to, Cooper Medical School at Rowan University, inconveniently abbreviated CMSRU. (Sidenote, NJ medical schools have some weird obsession with having the longest acronyms ever. We used to have UMDNJ-SOM and UMDNJ-RWJ and NJMS... but everything has changed hands now and I am not sure what anything is called anymore except that UMDNJ-SOM is now Rowan-SOM, so that one is pretty easy.) Anyway, I was super excited to have one of my applications out in the world, and not even two hours later, I got an invitation to fill out a secondary application for CMSRU! They apparently do screen primary applications before sending secondaries, but who knows. Anyway, I now have the "privilege" of writing 4 more scintillating essays about various things and then sending them $75. It is my first choice program, so I have my fingers crossed. Now, if AACOMAS (the DO application service) would follow suit and get their act together, that'd be superb.

In OTHER news, my friend Colleen over at Constantly Quixotic introduced me to a new blogging "challenge". We all know how I did with Blog Every Day in May (I ended up finally getting it all done) and Blogtember (not so great), but this is a little different. It's through Chasing Happiness and it's called The Thankful Project. I love a good blog challenge, and I was going to do a more general one anyway, but I'll tuck that away for when I'm needing some blog post inspiration. SO... if you'd like to join me on our quest to remember why we're grateful in November, head on over to the link above and start posting on November 1st! Link up, read, and enjoy!

For now, I'm heading home to write a giant paper for my microbiology course and continue studying for immuno. Have a good one!

- A

365 Days Later

Monday, October 14, 2013

This time last year, I was sitting in a hotel room in Lancaster, PA, surrounded by my favorite people, getting my hair and make-up done, trying not to have an irrational meltdown about God knows what, and thinking that in 5 hours, I would be walking down the aisle to get married.

First of all, where the hell has the last year gone? I mean, seriously! I started thinking about the things that I've done or that have happened in the past year:

- Got married (what!?)
- Moved into a newer, nicer condo
- Painted said newer, nicer, condo
- Officially got diagnosed with RA (and started on a treatment that seems to be working)
- Went back to school (because I am a masochist)
- Decided to reapply to med school (see above)
- Retook the MCAT (reached my score goal via magic and wizardry a buttload of studying)
- Lost a friend
- Made new friends/got WAY closer with some people with whom I was already friendly
- Went on our honeymoon
- Started blogging again (at this new blog!)
- Caught up on Mad Men (we're now ready for the final season!)
- Worked at the same job for over a year (and got a raise)
- Became a serious coffee drinker
- Got bangs
- Colored my hair red, then went back to blonde
- Read a few (but not nearly enough) books
- Started knitting again
- Realized who my real friends are

There's a million other little things that have happened, so that's just a smattering, but hey, not bad for a year. I wish that I had applied to med school earlier (so maybe I could be hearing about acceptances now, not just waiting for secondaries), or lost more weight (ugh), or read more books, saved more money, felt less diseased... but overall, not a completely unproductive year, I suppose.

So yes, I've been married for a year. Ken and I celebrated last night, because tonight I will be in class (womp womp). We went apple picking at Linvilla Orchards, and then went to dinner at Catelli Duo, which was delicious.

"I picked an apple!" (actual quote)
Chicken with a cool hairdo!
Feeding the chickens... possibly plotting to steal one.
Married for a year, together for almost 5... still making ridiculous faces.
Happy anniversary!

Tonight, I am hoping to get home at a more reasonable time than shortly after 10 pm, because Ken and I have plans to watch our wedding video (because for some reason, we haven't done that yet). I'll let you know how that goes. Of course, I forgot to take our frozen cake out of the freezer, but maybe it will be defrosted if Ken takes it out when he gets home from school. Fingers crossed?

Last night, I asked Ken if he ever forgot we were married, and not in a, "I just made out with this person because I forgot we were married," creepy kind of way. But sometimes, I "forget" that we are married because so little changed from before we were married to after we were married. We had been living together for ten months in our own place (14 months total, including the time we lived at my mom's) and there hadn't been a major adjustment to moving in together. In fact, it was one of the easiest transitions I've made in my life to date. It just felt so natural to have him there all the time, and neither one of us had to alter our lives drastically in any way to make it work. It was way easier than 99% of the times I had lived with a roommate (except for living with Emily, my roommate history has largely been disastrous).

So what does it mean to be married?

I didn't change my name. We didn't buy a house. We don't have kids. We have two cats. We cook together and grocery shop together. He takes out the trash and I bring in the mail. I clean the bathroom and do the dusting, he vacuums. We do dishes and laundry. I constantly ask him if he's seen my phone or my keys, he forgets to make doctor's appointments. We marathon TV shows on Netflix. We order pizza when we don't feel like cooking. He reaches things on high shelves and I taught him how to fold a fitted sheet. We laugh about inside jokes. He holds my hand when we're in a crowd so I don't get lost. He kisses the top of my head and calls me "little wife" because I am a foot shorter than he is. He lets the cats sleep in the bed. I tell him not to wear those shoes with those pants and he remembers to not put my "lay flat to dry" clothes in the dryer. He lets me shower first and doesn't get upset when my beauty products take over our bathroom counter. I pick up the bathmat that he continually leaves on the floor. We share dessert (so I don't feel so bad about ordering it). He tells me I'm beautiful first thing in the morning (and all the time). He kisses me and wraps me up in a hug before he leaves every morning, even though I'm half asleep and basically have no idea what I'm saying. He is never not excited when I come home. We support each other, laugh with (and at) one another, and snuggle. We make up silly dances and have pretend arguments about whose bathroom is whose. We have alone time and together time, a life apart and a life together. We share friends, ice cream, our amazingly comfortable bed, our hopes, dreams, and fears.

I didn't have to change who I was; I just had to continue being myself, and in fact, have become more myself than I ever have been before.

Being married, for us, was a lot like being engaged and living together... or perhaps, living together and being engaged was a lot like being married. Our lives slipped together like a key into a lock, and everything just fit. One of the best things about our marriage is that I'm still learning about my husband (and myself) on a nearly daily basis. It's frustrating, hysterical, complicated, and yet somehow still amazingly fun. I'm so lucky to have found and married my perfect match, and I can't wait to see what's next.

Speaking of what's next, I've decided to link up for Weekly Wishes! Melyssa over at The Nectar Collective is one of my favorite bloggers, and not just because she started the The Snail Mail Collective or because she has an adorable dog. She designs beautiful things and is truly an inspiring artist and person, so go check out her blog! I read a couple of blogs who always link up with her Weekly Wishes posts, and so I figured I'd join the cool kids and give it a shot. Without further adieu, here are my Weekly Wishes!

The Nectar Collective

1.Purge my closet and dresser/reorganize my drawers.
Confession: I don't like shopping. Oddly, I somehow still have way too many clothes because I also hate wasting things or admitting that I don't like something that I spent money on at some point. This doesn't change, even if the item is practically unwearable due to holes or that the style changed. Case in point: I own a sweater that I have had since 5th grade. Yes, it still fits (which means either I haven't grown since 5th grade or that it was huge when I got it... probably some of Column A, some of Column B.) It's not a particularly offensive sweater, but it's also not particularly interesting. It's navy blue. That's it. It's very warm and fuzzy and I probably shouldn't wear it, simply on the principle that the damn thing is old enough to vote, but... it remains in my sweater cabinet. Anyway, I've been talking about reorganizing my drawers for months now, and it just needs to get done.

2. Be a better Snail Mail Collective Participant
So, I still haven't blogged my first Snail Mail Collective experience, and now I have a second one! This week, the goal is to blog about the first one from Courtney of All Things Loverly, as well as the second one, and send my second one off to Laura of Inspiration Sparks. I'm behind on sending Laura her goodies, but she promised she wouldn't turn me in the Snail Mail Collective police! Keep an eye out for the posts about that!

3. Buy new windshield wipers and get the car washed. Get the battery checked.
The paint from my last car repair should finally be set so I can take my car to the car wash, and I've needed wiper blades for at least three months, so that really needs to get done. Also, my battery light randomly comes on and the car has been sluggish to turn over in the mornings, so it's time to get that checked before I'm stranded somewhere and have to wait for USAA roadside assistance to come and rescue me.

4. Finish the endless baby blanket.
For the love of God and all that is holy, this thing needs to be DONE. I had just started it in mid-July and now the baby is 5 weeks old. I'm supposed to meet the little darling tomorrow and I'd really like to be able to hand her momma the blanket.  Also, I'm sick of looking at it, haha.

5. Get ahead on school work.
I have a midterm on Thursday for histo, a bunch of stuff due on Friday for micro, and a midterm in two weeks for immuno. There's also a paper to be done for micro, a paper to think about/plan for immuno, and another quiz coming up in histo soon. Going to try and get ahead, especially on the papers, because that would make my life so much easier.

Feel free to link up your own goals at The Nectar Collective, and don't forget to leave an inspirational comment on the person's blog who linked up before you! As for me, I'm off to get some more work done, then grab a cup of coffee with Constance (who is in Philly for a few hours) before class tonight. Have a good one!

- A

My Husband is Not My Best Friend

Friday, October 11, 2013

The other day, Fran (of Franish fame) tweeted, "'I'm so excited to marry my best friend!' DUDE everyone marries their best friend. That's kinda the point. You are not special." and I replied that my husband wasn't actually my best friend.

I'll pause to let that sink in.

Okay, can we move on now? Let's go.

It has come to my attention that "I married my best friend!" is said a lot, and that's what Fran was pointing out. It seems like everyone marries their best friend. And it makes sense, right? Of course you would marry someone that you totally loved and cared for and thought was awesome. You wouldn't marry someone you thought was boring or lame or who didn't jive with your life goals... and if you would, then you should seriously reconsider your priorities here, but that's another post for another time. ANYWAY, I've been doing a lot of thinking about marriage and relationships, and not just because our one year anniversary of our wedding is on Monday (Sidenote: Where did the past year go? Can anyone figure that out for me? Great, thanks.) I think a lot about relationships in general because I'm neurotic, but also because I think it's good to keep your finger on the pulse of these kinds of things. Relationships and people are really important to me (said everyone ever?) and I like to think that they're something I'm good at... so I think about it a lot.

So, quick back story. How did Ken and I meet?

The short version is online blogging, a Canadian, and a cheese steak.

The slightly longer version is that Ken was going to visit Rachelle (the South-African-Arizonian-Canadian, who has been one of my best friends since 2003 thanks to the magic of the internet) in Montreal because they were pseudo-romantically involved and it was decided that I should meet Ken to decide if he was an axe murderer or a creeper before he went to Canada. I was dating some other guy and moving to FL a few months later to start med school, and he was obviously into Rachelle, so this was a totally platonic endeavor. Our first conversation, as I opened the door, was:

Me: You're tall.
Ken: You're short.
Me: Where's your axe?
Ken: I left it in the car.
Me: Oh, cool. Come on in.

As luck would have it, the cheese steak place that I usually go to was closed, so we grabbed pizza and hung out and talked for a few hours. It was really fun and we said we should hang out again. Then he went back to NY and then to Montreal and I moved to FL and life went on.

Cut to 2009. The thing with Rachelle hadn't panned out, so Ken was kind of dating around. I moved to FL with the guy I had been dating, promptly broke up with him (whoops), started dating another guy who turned out to be 97 kinds of wrong for me, suffered through the first semester of med school, had a mental breakdown, and moved home. Ken was employed, but not in his chosen career of finance (hello, recession that imploded the economy, beginning with the financial sector) and I was laying around in bed feeling sorry for myself and hating my life. We decided we needed to get that cheese steak. In March 2009, Ken drove down to my mom's house (where I was living at the time) and we went and got our cheese steak. We watched a bunch of Eddie Izzard stand up and had a glass of wine. We ended up on the same side of the couch with his arm around, and then he kissed me and I was totally surprised and confused, but really happy. As I tell people now, it was the best non-date-date ever. He asked me to come up and see him the following weekend. The rest, as they say, is history.

So, no, Ken and I weren't friends before we started dating. We knew enough about each other to know that we were interested in learning more, but I didn't know everything I knew about my best friend, or even some of my close acquaintances. As we got to know each other more, some startling differences emerged. We listened to totally different kinds of music and didn't really care for each others' tastes. He was a gamer, I was a reader. I hated NYC and public transportation, it gave me hives. I was obsessed with my cats, he (mistakenly) classified himself as a dog person. I found myself thinking, "How can I love someone who doesn't read as much as I do or who doesn't love folky acoustic music?" I was concerned.

When Ken and I moved in together, I was worried that he wouldn't understand my need for my own time and space. Totally the opposite. Even when we're home together, we rarely are doing things together. Sure, we might be in the same part of the house, but he'll be gaming and I'll be knitting, or I'll be in the bedroom watching something on TV and he'll be in the office watching The Colbert Report online. Sometimes, I'm just doing homework and he's lesson planning (there should probably be more of that and less of the TV/internet thing happening, but hey, we're only human).

While we were dating, there were things, way more important things, that we did have in common, though. We were close to our siblings, we loved to cook, we loved to laugh, and we believed in "God and not being an asshole". We both knew that someday, we wanted to get married (although at the time, we weren't discussing whether that would be to each other) and have a family. We had similar life goals and morals. The bedrock of what I believe to be a good relationship was all there; the rest was essentially fluff. It's great to share hobbies with your partner/spouse, but I quickly learned that it totally wasn't necessary. That being said, we have found some things that we both enjoy, like marathoning TV shows on Netflix (we just caught up on Mad Men and recently started Breaking Bad), eating delicious food, seeing improv and stand-up shows, getting dressed up, and snuggling. I would say though, that largely, our interests and hobbies still are quite divergent. We have all of the important things in common though, and that's why it works.

A best friend is someone that you can come to with any problem, question, concern, whatever, and not worry about being judged. They're someone you can share everything with. And sure, Ken fills that role a lot of the time, but he doesn't solve all of my problems or provide me with all the support I need in my life. My brother is still the one I turn to when I have emotional issues or want an "outside guy's opinion" on something that I know won't be full of bro-tastic stupidity. He also calls me out when I'm being ridiculous and helps me figure my shit out. I call Victoria when I need baking advice or fashion help, or general "Am I being insane?" assistance. I text Julie pictures of shoes to help me figure out if what I have on my feet is acceptable and she is my undergarment guru (girl knows her stuff about bras!) Music question? I call or email Mike. I gripe to Constance, Michelle, and Sarah about medicine, and Pam and Kristin are my rocks when it comes to research coordinator bullshit. Emily is the most empathic person I know and if she were closer, I'd be knocking down her door for routine hugs (she gives the best ones).  Poor Jenn, she gets a little bit of everything, because I swear, we share a brain, and Katie and I trade therapy sessions because sometimes, it takes one to know one, haha.

My husband is there to support me and comfort me. He is there to share my life, not be the sole purpose or my life. He shares in my triumphs, consoles me when I fail, and laughs with my every day. We know what we want, and that is a life with each other. Would we be best friends if we weren't married? Probably not. That used to bother me, but our differences is part of what makes my life and relationship with him so rich and fulfilling. I love him more than anything, and he is my husband and my partner and one of the best parts of my life, but he is not my best friend. I have a handful of people who fall into that category, and my husband just isn't one of them. Ken is my husband, a separate category of relationship who fills completely different roles and requirements that my best friends could never fill. That's one of the beautiful things about life; it's so full of people and layers and experiences. I cherish the fact that Ken and I have separate friendships, separate hobbies, and separate lives just as much I love that we share one life together. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

So there you have it. I didn't marry my best friend, and that's okay. What I did do was marry someone who complemented me in every way that mattered, and who makes me want to be a better person every day. I wish for everyone, whether you marry your best friend or not, to have that experience in their relationships. It really is a blessing.

In Calistoga on our honeymoon
Portrait by Allison Andres
So,  I'll be spending it with my non-best-friend-husband, trying to stay dry (the weather looks like it is going to suck for our anniversary weekend), watching our wedding video, eating our year-old cake, and generally relaxing. Have a good one, all!

- A

Fighting the Hard Battles

Friday, October 4, 2013

So, one of my favorite quotes has been wildly misattributed to... everyone, apparently.

It's attributed to Plato, mostly. It's also attributed to Philo of Alexandria. I did some researching and found out that it has also been attributed to Ian MacLaren and John Watson, both of whom I didn't know existed. The post that I found that goes through the history of the quote is here, but to me, I don't particularly care who said it; the sentiment remains true. We all have it hard, in one way or another, and even if you meet someone who seems to have it "together", they might be fighting their own demons underneath.

I've talked plenty about my battles with depression and anxiety. Fortunately, I've been able to control that demon pretty well. I've been in and out of therapy since I was 12, and continually in therapy since 2009 with my amazing therapist, Danna. (Seriously, if you are in the Philadelphia area and need a therapist, go to Danna. She will change your life.) I have... a mess of issues, but a lot of them boil down to one of the following:

- Not being able to control everything (and subsequently freaking the hell out)
- Never being satisfied with anything (and subsequently being neurotic and depressed)
- Being overly hard on myself, as in, way harder than I would be on other people in the same situation (and subsequently being unhappy about everything)

And then on top of that, it's fall. Yes, I love fall (even though I don't like pumpkin, deal with it) but the fall does weird things to me. Fall is my favorite season, and yet once September is about halfway over, I start to feel this weird slide in my mental state that continues in an achingly slow fashion until December, at which point I generally either get physically ill, have a complete mental breakdown, or both. Once again, The Bloggess put it rather aptly:

"Last night I wrote on twitter about how everyone I talked to this week seems way more broken and fragile and paralyzed than normal.  Why?  My guess is that the moon is way too close to the earth and all of the water in our body is getting sucked up into our heads and most of that water is filled with hormones and repressed, angry memories of junior high rejection that we’d been storing in our kneecaps.  Trust me."

So yeah, perhaps the moon is way close to the earth, or the planets are aligned weirdly, or the magnetic field of the sun is changing, or whatever, but fall does weird things to me, and apparently other people as well. The past few weeks have definitely been hard on me mentally, although it wasn't like anything crazy had happened.

I currently just feel... off. Unsettled. Wrong. I described it to a friend as feeling as though I am okay right now, but very soon, I may not be okay in a very bad way, although I'm not sure what way that is, but it's bad. I have been in a pretty negative head space, which is hard to shake because... hi, this is my head, I live here. It's just a feeling of not being a productive human being or a "good adult" in any realm of my life.

I am unfulfilled by my job and I have been impressively unproductive as of late. I hate my body and yet, do nothing to fix that problem. I am exhausted by the day to day activities of living, but get upset at myself when I am unproductive or don't accomplish things that I want to accomplish. I feel like a bad wife because when I get home from work, I don't want to do anything but be alone, possibly while watching TV. I feel disconnected from myself and my life. I feel WEIRD.

Some of these problems have easy solutions. Unproductive at work? Make a to do list and do it.
Hate your body? Go to the gym and stop eating crap. And yet, I don't do either of these things. I feel nearly paralyzed by the possibility that very soon, THINGS MAY NOT BE OKAY. I am a person of plans, and for "things might not be okay" there are no plans, other than... try to make them stay "okay". Whatever "okay" means that day.

Part of the problem is that whenever I "solve" a problem, I immediately move on to another one without actually giving myself any credit for solving the first one. For example, I needed to retake the MCAT. I studied (a lot) and took time off of work to ensure that I had enough studying time, and I took a ton of practice tests, and then I took the exam and my studying paid off and I got the score I wanted to get. Instead of saying, "Wow, that was pretty great. Look at this cool thing you accomplished!" I said, "Well, you did what you were supposed to do, no need to have a party, let's get on with life." I'm not saying that I should have thrown myself a party, but the fact that I improved my score by 4 points, to a place that will very likely result in me at least getting some interviews for med school, and then acted like it was as exciting as getting the mail for the day... is kind of weird.

Another part of the problem is that I am never satisfied. The MCAT was an interesting exception to this rule, as I was actually okay with the score I received and really, there was nothing I could do about it even if I wasn't (besides take the damn exam again which... no thanks). The more amorphous goals are the harder ones. When I was a freshman in college, I weighed 110 lbs. Maybe 115. I wore a size 4. Even then, I hated my body and wanted to "lose 15 pounds". I'm not sure why, but I did. I never lost those 15 pounds. In fact, my body grew bigger hips and bigger boobs and I got heavier, until I was a senior in college and I weighed around 130 pounds. Then I wanted to "lose 15 or 20 pounds" but again, I never did. Then med school happened and I lost a bunch of weight (thanks, major depressive episode) and secretly, I was so happy to weigh under 130 pounds that I didn't really care that I had spent four days in a psych hospital and how happy I was about losing weight might indicate that I needed to be BACK in the psych hospital. Then my endocrine system decided to go on strike, I gained 45 or 50 pounds, and I hated my body in a way that I had never hated it before. Then a doctor finally figured out that my endocrine system was the problem (and that it wasn't that I was lazy/crazy/unmotivated) and I lost a bunch of weight, bringing me back to 140. I went from being a size 14-16 to a size 8-10. I've been around this weight for about a year. I gained 7-8 pounds on our honeymoon because a week of restaurants and wine and dessert will do that to you. My clothes all still fit, and I was feeling "okay".

Then I had a major meltdown, decided that my body was disgusting, and I hated everything about it. I threw things around my closet, said horrible things about myself, and was generally a jerk to my husband, who was only trying to be helpful.

What prompted this? Who knows. All I know is that it's made eating and enjoying food incredibly difficult over the past few weeks. I can't decide what I want to eat, when I eat I feel okay but then feel guilty afterwards, and I'm constantly fighting with myself over whether I should really eat the ice cream bar that I so desperately want after a long ridiculous day, or how much better I'll feel if I just go to bed without eating it. And then there's the self-shaming about not going to the gym. I pay $45 a month for a gym membership that includes one personal training session a month and do I go? No. I like the classes they have, especially barre, and have I gone back? No. Have I taken advantage of the free trainer? No. WHY? I have no idea. Because I'm a terrible adult? That's all I can come up with.

All that to say is that part of this weight and body image issue is that there is no number on the scale that will make me say, "Ok, enough is enough. This is good." The fact that I lost 45 pounds and got back to a reasonable, not dangerous (albeit still overweight) weight wasn't "enough". I feel the need to be smaller than I am. Of course, when I weighed 110 pounds, I wanted to weigh less. It was this problem that got me into trouble in high school and had me weighing 90 pounds my freshman year (and passing out all the time from not eating). I keep "moving the goal post" so to speak. I know, intellectually, that one has to stop losing weight at some point or one gets sick and/or dies. I know that eating disorders are no joke. And yet, I can honestly say that I don't think there's a number on the scale ore on a tag that would make me "happy".

The same goes for money. I once said to Levi, "There is not an amount of money that I could have in my bank account that would make me stop worrying about money." A million? Two million? A hundred million? Part of the problem is that I've never had more than a few grand to my name at a time, and it's never been for very long because that generally means I've obtained the money to DO something with it (like buy a car, or put a deposit on a house, or send a large sum of money to a college) so it very quickly becomes "not my money". I can't even fathom what not having to worry about money is like, so I think that even if/when there comes a time when there is "enough", it won't feel like "enough".

These bottomless problems are ones that I fear will never go away. I am apparently bad at being content. It's interesting, because one of the things that I think has allowed me to get to where I am is that unending desire to achieve/do/have/accomplish. I like that part of myself. It keeps me going. It occasionally makes me seem insane (see also: reapplying to med school). But as we all know, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and that's when it becomes pathological and destructive. I have the hardest time living in this moment. I am always worrying about what is next, and I never acknowledge, let alone celebrate, what is going on right now. It's annoying. It's sad. It's frustrating. But it's life, and it's keeping my therapist in business, and I'm getting better at accepting that part of it is just my personality, and I'm learning how to temper that with some sanity. And that was a run-on sentence. Whoops.

Anyway, that's what's been rolling around in my skull lately. I haven't felt very inspired to post things, and in fact, it took me a whole week to write this post. To quote Mean Girls, "I just have a lot of feelings!" In talking to my close friends about how I've been feeling, it was brought to my attention that I like lists, and that perhaps making a list of things I want to accomplish will make it easier for me to get things done. Also, lists make me happy. So, here are some short-term goals that I'd like to accomplish in the various realms of my life.

- Finish creating data forms
- Submit IRB amendment for said data forms
- Follow up on hiring a tech (for the love of God)
- Get to work by 8:30 every day
- Finish spreadsheet of sample requirements for various studies

- Study on a more consistent basis
- Start studying now for my histology midterm in two weeks and my immuno midterm in three weeks
- Figure out my plan for the spring semester
- Organize secondary applications for med schools

- Do a closet purge
- Organize bookshelves/buy another one (because man, I have too many books)
- Get stuff hung up on the walls (ketubah, pictures, etc)

- Go to the gym at least twice a week
- Get blood work drawn for upcoming primary care doctor's appointment
- Only weigh self once a week
- Get 8 hours of sleep a night
- Bring better lunches to work (make them the night before?)
- Journal more regularly
- Get back into budgeting (it will make me feel more in control)
- Plan blog posts ahead of time (and blog regularly)
- Write more letters
- Go to synagogue more frequently (read: at all)
- Be as kind to myself as I am to others

And with that, I have to go figure out what I'm eating for lunch, which is one of my least favorite things in life to decide. Happy Friday, all.

- A

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