{June 11, 2012}   World of Pain

There are so many different types of pain in the world and so many people suffering them. Physical pain, emotional pain, hunger pains, sympathy pains… Ever notice how the only pain that matters is the pain you’re feeling at the moment? Do you ever feel guilty for complaining about the pain? I do. However, I still complain about it, no matter how much I think of how “it could be worse”. I would describe my pain as annoying: it’s constant, it’s always there. It’s more dependable than my shadow, because even when the lights go down it persists. Tonight I’m agonizing over the deep ache in my hip, thigh and knee. It’s annoying, mostly because nothing I do seems to bring any relief. Sitting still or moving, there’s no difference. Ice or heat, no difference. Unfortunately, I just have to wait for it to stop bothering me so bad, try and wish it away.

I pray that there are no Fire & Rescue calls tonight, because regardless of the pain I’m in I’ll respond and I will give it my all. It’s my job. And I love it.

{June 11, 2012}   I Complain Way Too Much

We got a call today for a brush fire. It just happened to be a few houses up the road from my parent’s house. It was a whopping eighty-five degrees in the sun and about one hundred and six on scene. With all of our fire gear on I thought I was going to pass out. Each fire call I go on I realize more and more that I am in this mostly for Rescue.  To add to my decision of wanting to do Rescue versus fire fighting, my body can’t handle the weight of the gear. My body hurts twenty-four/seven as it is, then you throw fifty pounds of gear on top of the pain and you have a complete wreck. Eventually the adrenaline wears off and all I think about is how bad I’m hurting. I’m in rough shape after fighting that fire today and all I want (believe it or not) is a cold shower and a hot meal. Oh, and a nice, long nap, uninterrupted by my pager going off to inform me of yet another emergency.

I have some good news to report, too. I called my psychotherapist this morning and explained my need for an appointment sooner than July second. Thankfully, she squeezed me in for this Thursday.

{June 10, 2012}   The Inexperienced

*Rookies in the field of Fire & Rescue

The rookies, they’re more enthusiastic than their senior counterparts. They’re one step ahead of their experienced coworkers when responding to a call. The adrenaline pumps through their veins just a little harder, a little faster. They rely more on instinct and textbook procedures, rather than experience.
The rookies move quick. They get excited, like a little kid on Christmas morning. What the more experienced coworkers do not tell the rookies, as a sort of code, for fear they will swerve their career paths from Fire & Rescue is this:
The excitement tends to go away, more and more each time you load a lifeless body onto the stretcher. The adrenaline pumps weaker, replaced by dread and fear in the form of nightmares: the burning building, too hot to enter, with a child inside. The car accident caused by a drunk driver, he escaped without so much as a scratch, but he killed the young mother and father in the other car, leaving two young children parent-less. Or worse yet, being called to a home of your own family, arriving in time to find out that it’s too late, they’ve stopped compressions.
The haunts that these workers go through on a daily basis are inconceivable. But they do it because someone has to, and they just happen to care enough to be the one for the job. I use the words “job” and “career” very lightly here, because the fact of the matter is that most small-town Fire and Rescue is on a volunteer basis. These men and women work all day at their nine to five grind, if they’re lucky for the hours to be so simple, and then go on a call at two in the morning because something’s wrong and someone needs their help. I can tell you from my own experience, that on the way out the door in the wee hours of the morning, they’re not thinking they can’t afford the gas to drive across town and not get paid for it. They’re not thinking about how they have to get up in a few hours to get their kids off to school and go to work. They’re focused on the emergency. Every emergency, every call, is treated as a life and death matter in their eyes.
The horrors rescue responders face, from violent encounters with patients to sleepless nights, wondering what could have been done different to change the outcome of that one call. I have a pretty good idea of what I’m up against in continuing my education to become a licensed Emergency Medical Technician. I have already been on several calls ranging from a middle aged man with a toothache to an older man overdosing on medication and jumping out of a second story window. There are frustrations and often bewilderment, but there’s also that feeling of satisfaction of being the help, being the comfort to someone who is in distress. My Chief has a saying that I’ve grown fond of: “Don’t make someone else’s emergency your emergency. Your safety is first. Once you arrive on scene, the emergency is over, like it never existed. It’s in your hands and you have it under control.”


My hands are shaking and I can feel my heart pounding, thumping in my chest at an unusually fast pace. I’m pissed off and angry. I’m mad to the point where I could start crying any second. I don’t know why I’m mad. I’ve got nothing to be angry about. I hate everybody, too, though not everyone has done something to me. I feel like a time bomb, ready to explode any second. Maybe I’m not mad… maybe I’m just incredibly sad and pathetic? I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I can’t seem to put it into words. I have an overwhelming fog of mixed feelings: hate, anger, misery, pain, numbness, sadness, isolation, fear, loneliness, unworthiness, uselessness, hopelessness, worry, exhaustion… it’s really too much for me to handle and I’m… breaking.
I want to talk about it, but I don’t know how. How can I tell anyone when I can’t put it into words? It’s building up, a constant, unbearable pressure. I’m frustrated. With myself, with my thoughts and feelings, with my parents, my friends and strangers. I keep thinking, “Why can’t anyone understand?!?!”. but I can’t expect anyone to understand… I can’t even begin to understand it myself. I want to scream, yell, hit something, punch someone, cry, sit in a dark room alone, be with someone, stand up for myself, just give up and collapse. I’m breaking, crumbling under the pressure. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I feel like a nobody. Am I not good enough anymore? I just want the old me back, no matter how imperfect I was, because I was so much happier before. I just want to laugh without effort, smile without strain. I am completely falling apart… I need someone to hold me together. I feel alone, like there’s nobody in my corner, like if I try and reach out, I will be reaching on forever, without a caring hand to grasp mine. So, I should just save my energy. What’s the point?
My hands are no longer shaking, my heart rate has slowed to a more normal pace and I feel less angered, but still upset, as tears leave stains on my cheeks. Crying is not so bad, I’m not one for crying, but it does help to relieve some stress. Still, I don’t know which is worse… feeling the pain and sadness or the anger? The fog in my head is lifting to some relief and visibility is increasing slightly. I need to know I’m worth the time of day, someone cares and that I make a difference somewhere, anywhere. I need some reassurance that this is going to get better, I won’t always feel like this and the fog in my head isn’t terminal. I feel as though I’m teetering on the brink of a tall, steep slope and I’m losing grip rapidly. I’m afraid… afraid that if I fall, the slope is too slippery and steep to catch myself and I won’t have the energy to climb back up once I hit the rock bottom. I just want to curl up in an empty corner somewhere and sleep forever. I’m scared because this isn’t me, these aren’t my feelings and I feel as though I’m fighting a losing battle with myself. The new me versus the old me and the old me is being defeated quickly, too weak to fight back, facing an almost certain death. I don’t like the new me. I HATE the new me. I can’t BE the new me…
Maybe I should be alone, stay away from other people so my misery doesn’t rub off on them. But I’m tired of being alone. Not in the literal meaning of the word. I’m constantly surrounded by people- people I love, people I know, strangers… but I’m still alone. I need someone to tell me that I’m not alone and that I don’t have to do this on my own… because I don’t think I can. I need help. I need to feel.
I don’t know what’s going on with me and I’m freaking out. I’m scared. I have no control over my thoughts and feelings and it’s all so disorderly… I can’t stand it. I’m spiraling out of control fast. I’m at my wits end, my breaking point. Between the nonstop physical pain and the emotional roller coaster I’m dealing with day in and day out, life has become torturous for me. I’m a prisoner of my body and mind. I feel that I’m not the only one who carries the burden of blame, though.

{June 8, 2012}   Wisdom

I’m not super-great with words, but after the last two months, where I’ve lost two uncles and an aunt, I wanted to share some wisdom with you:

Stop putting off that visit to a loved one. Don’t think twice about hugging someone, just do it. Tell people how much they mean to you. Tell your friends and family that you love them. Life is short as it is, and then some things happen unexpectedly. In the last few months I’ve come to fully realize just how precious and important family and friends are.

{June 8, 2012}   World of Books

I’m diving into the lack of reality that reading fiction brings me: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

It’s a wonderful world to escape to when life seems to be bringing only unpleasant things my way. A quote from the aforementioned book:



Not leaving: an act of trust and love,

often deciphered by children.

{June 2, 2012}   Moving… again.

So, I’m moving again. I have one month to get everything in order, including remodeling a bathroom and a bedroom. I’m stressed to the max at this point. Not only are we selling this house, but people keep coming to look at it. The other day, whoever came to look at the house went in my bedroom and turned one of my crosses that hangs on my wall above a little memorial for my Grampa upside-down. That pissed me off. So now I’m in a hurry to pack everything that is not a necessity and store it until I’m able to move into the new place. What is wrong with people? To begin with, they had no right touching anything personal in my house, let alone fuck with extremely personal things. AND, who turns a cross upside-down? What the hell is wrong with people?!?!

I continue to be astounded by the disrespect people exhibit on a daily basis.

et cetera