Piles.

The week of moving.  Its a time that any person dreads -- the packing, the sorting, the finding of stuff.  They are sorted into piles -- keep, give, trash.  Then those piles are sorted into piles -- storage vs active use.  Then those piles are sorted into more piles -- kitchen, bathroom, closet, bedroom, living room, outdoor, laundry room, craft room.  Endless piles.

Then you are surrounded by so many piles of your stuff that you get frustrated.  You get disgusted with the amount of stuff that you have.  And you begin purging.

"I haven't used that in years."
"I've had this for five years.  It's time for it to go."
"I can't stand that lamp."
"I just simply have too many pants" (and then proceed to purge 7 pairs just to be able to lighten my closet)
"I don't feel like dealing with this"

And even then, you still feel like you have too much stuff.  And all you want to do is throw it all away and start over.  And then you wonder if you're an undiagnosed hoarder.

And then... "How in the world am I going to move all this crap?!"

Piles. I hate piles. I hate mess.
This too shall pass...

Goodbye Classroom

When you spend a year of your life re-organizing your priorities, putting one specific activity above everything else, that activity becomes a part of the definition of who you are.  When you spend countless hours trying to digest all of the information disseminated to you in time for the test and with enough depth for it to stick and translate throughout the curriculum, it becomes a part of your "normal routine."  When you spend everyday with the same 13 people for a year, inside the same four walls at the same tables in the same chairs suffering through the same fight, they become more than just classmates.  They become an extended family (we spent more time together than we did with our families anyway) -- you love them, you hate them, you help them, you snap at them, you laugh with them, you cry with them, you heal with them, you complain with them, you encourage each other, you get by and you get through.

And then, all of a sudden, your time together is up.  Time to move on to the next task.  Time to put what we've "learned" in the classroom to the test (thank goodness for a miniature library of physical therapy books and notes to which I can run to when I need to) and venture out to clinical assignments.

It's surreal.  It's not real to me yet.  I've teared up.  But realizing that I won't wake up tomorrow, drag on some sweats, grab my backpack and head to class -- it's unfathomable right now.  Tomorrow (day 1 of the clinical) will be a shocker to me.  Ice cold water to my face.  No more routine for us!

And the comfort that we've built with each other (beginning on day one with palpating each others pubic symphyses -- I kid you not!) has been ripped from us, just as we were thrown into it. 10 months (exactly!) together...

Unreal.  Just absolutely unreal.  Did I really make it?  Is it really already time for these clinicals?  Is graduation really so close???

Congrats to my classmates... We've lived through this together, which means we can do anything. :)  Good luck to everyone on their clinicals, and I can't wait to see y'all for the Board Review and share stories of what we've seen and done :)

I don't know what it is about cold rainy days, but I love them.  I love curling up on the couch under a light blanket -- especially if I've got the Mister to cuddle up to.  I love the heaviness of my eyelids, the slowed heart rate, the trance-like sound of the rain drops falling on the roof, the porch, the windows... It makes me want to get lost in a Jane Austen book or movie, quilt or crochet, cook, or drink a cup of hot apple cider.

Rainy days get me into an introspective and reflective mood.  Considering where I am in my life, where I'm going, what I want to do, things I want to accomplish.  I am not a person content to be stagnant with life -- there is always something more to seek, find, experience, and learn.  A lifetime of learning.  A forever student (although I am quite ready for this stint of formal education to be over, to make way for normalcy, and to allow for the extra-curricular learning such as quilting groups, exercise classes, etc to commence).  Life is too short to settle for less than what you want or what you work for.


Soon I will be transitioning from one abode to another.  A change I am excited about and ready for.  Just another reminder that life is always changing.

New Ideas

So Pinterest has struck me again -- encouraging creativity, uniqueness, self-exploration, and actively pursuing happiness, a human and American right.

Suggestion #1:  Create a list of personal commandments.

This seems to originate from the book The Happiness Project.  I haven't read this book, so I feel like I need to read it before I can understand this concept as its intended.  So Suggestion #1 turns into a goal... Read The Happiness Project.

Suggestion #2:  Make a Bucket List

Populated by the movie, this seems to be a recurring theme of my generation.  And I'll be frank: I don't have one.  And I do think that having goals and wishes and dreams helps to keep a person motivated and energized off life.  So maybe this is something I should explore...  So Suggestion #2 turns into a goal... Watch The Bucket-List.

The Sandbox Strikes Again

Last night, Daniel and I were talking and the Sandbox came up again (although admittedly, I was the one that inadvertently brought it up).  It was said in passing, but turned into a whole conversation.

"And that scares the hell out of you," he observed.

I sighed.  And I explained to him that my concerns were not so much of the physical harm (I have confidence that this wouldn't be the biggest issue as he'd be working logistics instead of the frontline or a combat role), but rather of the emotional and relationship harm.  I explained to him that he has hermit tendencies and that my fear is that it would end up with a ghosting situation.  I explained to him that I've been in that situation before and I don't ever want to be there again.

"I'm not saying I would do that, and I'm not saying I wouldn't do that," was the essence of his response.  And my heart sighed -- when presented with an opportunity to comfort and reassure me, he didn't.  Which leads me to think that ghosting would be a very real possibility if he were to go.

He reminded me that this is a last resort option, and I said "You might say that, but this has come up several times since we've started dating.  And that leads me to believe that this isn't as remote of an idea as you're trying to make it out to be.  That it's a very real option for you and that it's actually something you want to do."  His response? "Yeah..."

I'm getting more and more frustrated with the situation.  I'm beginning to wonder if this option is appealing to him not only for the money, but for "getting away" -- escaping from his over-bearing mother, the job he hates. Is he also wanting to escape from me, from our relationship?  Is the relationship becoming too serious and he doesn't know how to handle it?

I'm beginning to believe that our "Valentines Celebration" weekend will not be all rainbows and unicorns -- but instead will consist of some serious conversation.  But then again, if he's not actively pursuing it, perhaps I should just let it lie...  Yeah... I should just let it lie and pray it doesn't happen. (Yeah, right.  It's probably gonna happen).  But y'all know me -- I have to confront a situation.  It's both my best and worst attribute.  Perhaps I should seek counsel from one (or two) of my military girls....

"I'm just considering it..."

"So how would you feel about me going to The Sandbox?" is not the way to bring a conversation to a quick close when you've said multiple times "I really need to get to bed."

Just mentioning the possibility of going to the sandbox (i.e.--Afghanistan as a civilian contractor) had me in tears. Yes, I understand the money is good.  And therefore I understand why it appeals to him -- he feels he can get his life back on track financially and will be able to afford and put down a huge down payment on a house.  I get it.  And mentioning that 'certain events that start with a W are expensive' and 'this way I could easily get a certain piece of jewelry' does not sweeten the deal for me.

But while he sees dollar signs, I see 12 months of him not being here.  I see his hermit tendencies taking over and the contact becoming less and less.  I see a year of growing as individuals, but will we grow together as a couple?

Then you get worst case scenario fears.... You think about the stories your friends have told you about being over there: the rampant cheating on loved ones (one story even included a girl getting pregnant by a guy whose wife was on the same F.O.B.!), the PTSD, the 'ghosting' of the military on their girlfriends at home.

I believe there is something very honorable about serving your country, about sacrificing time out of your life for something bigger than yourself.  I'm very proud to say that I'm with a man who has already done that; serving for one tour of Iraq in the height of its activity.  I'm very proud to say that although he is not an active Marine, he was and will forever be a Marine.  And the fact that he isn't active anymore was very appealing to me -- we could have a relationship without fear of him deploying or fear of him getting sent to another base.  He was out of the military, establishing himself as a civilian in mentality and in the workforce.

And now he's reverting back to considering voluntarily going to the Middle East.  For a year.