Sabotage

Do I self sabotage? The cards have always been stacked against me, on their own. Yet in some situations I feel like I knock them down and stack them higher. I get on a path of what I think I want, and at some point I stop and reconsider. 


I want to be a Physician Assistant- or do I?  I do. I know I do. Yet I'm coming up with every reason not to. I generally don't give into the: "it's too hard." Instead I'm facing "I want children." I'm too old." "I can't afford it." "I need to support myself." "I need to live on my own." All of that is true. But I also want a career. I struggle with how bad I want a career. 


I know people who have "jobs," and they make a decent money. Many are satisfied, even if only marginally so.  That's my issue - I don't want to just be satisfied, but I feel like I'm too far behind to be happy. 


I don't want to settle, but I feel like I've just been winging it. I set my sights, and then reset my mind. I did the same thing with theatre. I got out of college, and was offered small jobs. Not well paying jobs, but it was a step in the direction I was pursuing.  Am I going to do that again? Will I get another degree that I don't use? Am I collecting degrees? Is that I want to do. 


Do I want a bunch of degrees, just to say that I was able to get them.  Or do I get them, and really not know why I wanted them, 


Someone said that I may self sabotage everything I attempt. That's not it at all. I try to circumvent failure. I'm so terrified that I wont succeed. I guess, I'm not giving myself the opportunity fail. That also doesn't give me the opportunity to succeed. 

Drowning

The girl who always got everything right, wanted everything perfect is now drowning in a sea of her own perfection.


This is not to imply that I'm "perfect," because lord knows I'm not. However, I faked perfection well! I lied to myself, and the world. I chased after "A's" as if my life depended on it. I didn't care about the grade! I cared about being better than all the rest. I cared about "beating out" the masses. In many situations I did.


When there was situation, in which I came up short: I pulled it. That closely guarded trump card was there for moments like this.


You got an "A", while I got a "B." Well I had an Intercranial Brain Hemorrhage Little miss "A" can't say that.  You got cast in the lead, while I'm in the chorus. Guess what: In the chorus I'll be dancing and I wasn't even supposed to walk! You're getting married? Well there's a guy in my life who makes breakfast by my side, even though I'm 4' tall (OK so you beat me there!)


These were never used as excuses. These were simply my ways, in which I can't be beat. But now what.  I'm caught up in myself created delusion that I've beat out the world. However, it's a very insulated world in which I lived. It's been a world filled with people who watched my feats, and cared: a world that accepted I'd always have "one-up" on them. 


Now there's a school in which 1,800 people will compete for 44 spots. When someone beats me in this arena, I wont care about 91 broken bones in my past. That wont numb the failure. The people who can beat me now are faceless and nameless.  That terrifies me. What else do I have to erase any future failures? 


Failing: I'm terrified of failing. Nothing rocks my core, more than a failure. nothing cuts my soul like rejection. 


I feel over my head: trying to get a date. wanting to go to school, needing to find a job. I'm overwhelmed. I'm shaking, and it's not the coffee. I'm drowning in my need to feel better than someone. I need a counterpart, willing to fail in front of me to erase my own inadequacies. 


How terrible does that sound? 

The girl in the airport ...

I've reached a point where I'm not happy for the people I love. As terrible as that sounds, I just can't be. I sometimes feel consumed by envy. I never went through this phase, when I was younger. I guess that leaves me entitled to feel it now. However, in this minute it feels all consuming. I'm caught in a swirl of everyone else's good news. I want to be happy for them. I want to rejoice with you because you have: great children, a beautiful home, an awesome boyfriend, a husband that treats you like gold, a job you love, a career you always wanted, a family that adores you ...

So while I stand here watching all your planes take off, I'm stuck with a delayed layover ... 

It's today

It's April 10, 2011. Today marks 8 years since my "rebirth." Essentially 8 years ago was the day I was going to die.  It was clear, I was dying. As I lay on that gym floor, falling in and out of conscience I knew I wasn't well I also knew that I was too weak and powerless to do anything about it. I had almost succumb to the situation, that was about to be. 


I've been asked what I was thinking, and, feeling laying on that gym floor. I wasn't thinking anything. I was so oblivious to what the world around me. I was feeling excruciating pain. It was pain that seemed to encompass my entire body. The totality of who I am was wrapped inside a Migraine. I do recall a fleeting moment, in which I thought: "Someone needs to find me!" I could not tell you how much time lapsed between that thought, and that thought materializing. 

I soon saw Niki and Vanessa standing above me. Vanessa's long hair was tickling my nose, and she was all decked out in her costume for Anything Goes." I was trapped somewhere between pain, surrealism and a musical! That pretty much summed up all of my time at Five Towns. 


Niki and Vanessa kept asking me questions. The biggest was "what's wrong." I wish I knew. I couldn't move. I couldn't think, I couldn't talk and, I felt no pain. I was in a moment of no pain, and no fear. With all the frantic questions and actions happening around me, I didn't have the thought  process to be afraid. I finally got enough energy to tell them where to find my cell phone, and he to call. After that I checked out. I don't know where I went, or what happened, until several days, when I woke up. 


I still can only know what happened based on stories that are relayed to me, and the small amount of medical documentation I was provided with. The story goes like this ... 


8 long weeks of Migraines culminated in, what was, an intercranial Brain Hemorrhage, that was about to take my life. I was dying on that gym floor. I got to Stony Brook Hospital, with only hours to live. Quick decisions, and trust, an 11 hour surgery and a 3 day medically induced coma and here I am.


 I don't even think Vanessa or Niki even realize how instrumental they were in me being here. I still, to this day, have no clue how the two of them knew to come look for me. Hell I can't even figure out how it ended up being the two of them. This all took place during a costume fitting, for Anything Goes. How the actress and the Stage Manager ended up together, is beyond me. And their mutual decision to "find me" still blows my mind.


They made a decision to save my life, without even knowing. 

I'll stand by you

I heard I'll stand by you, tonight, and it was as if it were the first time I'd ever heard that song. Obviously, I've heard that song multiple times in pop culture. Yet tonight, it resonated so loudly. Each lyric pulsed through my veins. I remember the last time I heard that song, and felt that.

The summer of 2007 was one of the lowest moments in my life. I sat trapped ... trapped in a house I could not leave and stuck in a body I could not move. I was paralyzed by external fixators, protruding out of, both, my legs. I had no choice but to sit there. I tried to exist among the metal and gauze. No mater how hard I tried I got lost within the situation. I felt alone. I felt scared. I felt worthless. Last but not least, I felt invisible.

And there was mom. Amid all my tears she stood in the doorway of our kitchen and sang. That woman belted out I'll stand by you. (boy, did she let her inner diva out.) That's a memory I'll never forget. "...Won't let nobody hurt you ..." - She never fell short there.  Moms are real good at protection, aren't they?

In more ways than one, I'm free. I'm free to leave, move, walk, and anything else I may want.  With that comes the responsibility of standing by yourself.

???

I question everything. I break everything down to it's simplest form, in hopes of securing an answer. Somehow, I always come up empty.  I thought I found what I wanted to do with my life, and then I began questioning that. Do I really want to go into medicine? I studied theatre, and with every fiber of my being wanted to be a director. I gave that up. I gave up. That's not me. Taniya doesn't give up. Taniya's dreams have changed for 30 years. Every second, of every day I feel like I should be doing something else.


I've never been enough, and I feel like I'll always search for "enough." I've waited for something to "call" me. I knew when I heard that call I'd know exactly what I should do, and where I should go. - I would just know, right? 


 Then I watched my mom die. I made every decision, as I watched every labored breath she attempted to take. Every piece of information that I could find, I pulled. I spent countless hours on the Internet, and reading books. I spoke with every doctor I knew.  - that was a challenge. I called, and called, and called again. I left countless messages until I received calls back. I violated HIPAA laws.- I snuck peeks at her chart. I memorized the information, so I could go over it with every doctor who did call me back.  I saw her before, during and after. And then I held her hand when she died. - That's when I heard my "call." If I could: get that invested in my mom's medical treatment, look and every wound, and read every gory detail, of someone much more than a patient ... I could be treating patients. 


So what? OK I can handle blood, and death. I still felt that I was making a rash decision. Maybe I just wanted to "fix people" because I couldn't "fix" my mom. Maybe I simply, wanted to save families from feeling the hurt I felt so deeply. After all: I only wanted to act so I didn't have to be the girl in wheelchair. Then I learned that I couldn't act (how I wanted) because I was the girl in the wheelchair.  So then I didn't want medicine, either. 


Recently, it all became so clear. That "call" became a scream. OF COURSE YOU NEED TO BE IN MEDICINE! - NO you don't want death! You want life. More importantly, you want your life. That "scream" came in the form of someone two feet and more than 20 years younger than I. I've heard that before: "embrace OI, and see yourself in the children that need to be seen. To simply say: "I've been there," negates the magnitude of what I have to do. 


This world was not made for me. I learned a long time ago, it won't adapt for me. I have to adapt to meet the challenges, life presents. It's easy for any doctor, to say: "I've treated this before." "I've seen this." I've grown up my whole life with those doctors. Where's the professional who can say : "I've had this done." "Yes, it will hurt like hell." "No, it's not going to fix everything, but I KNOW it's worth it!" I always wanted a Doctor who understood. It's not all all about medical terms and scalpels. Where's the empathy, and compassion....


A four year old showed me , that's where I come in! 

To cut or not to cut ... that is the question

I'm contemplating having the "seizure surgery." It's hard to think of having an ELECTIVE surgery on your Brain, but sometimes it's hard not to...


There's always that lingering fear that a seizure will happen, and where I might be when it does. If one happens, and the DMV gets word of it, I lose my license for 12 months. - One whole year of trying to rely on some of the most unreliable people. That, in itself, is terrifying. 


I've had my seizures under control, for several months, and that's security. Yet, my doctor looked at me and said: "I was thinking for you, long term, and there's a surgeon I meant send you to." Now that didn't give me the warm fuzzies, but maybe it's something to consider. A life on 2,500 milligrams of anticonvulsants, a day, may not be the best option. 


There's no guarantee that this surgery will even work. Essentially, it is just cutting out the section of the Brain, where the seizure originates. There is a chance that the surgery will do nothing, or even make things worse. I ask myself if it's a risk worth taking. 


Part of me wants to do it, because I have the choice! Back in '03 when I had that Hemorrhage, I had no say. All of those decisions were made for me. I was, blissfully, unaware. I remember waking up, after being in a coma for five days, and not understanding what happened. I could not wrap my head around the magnitude of what I endured. I didn't feel the swelling, in the whole right side of my face. I didn't know that I slept through five days of my life. It all came together, my first day home: I had walked into the bathroom, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror - the whole right side of my head was shaved. Both of my eyes were black and blue. The swelling had not completely subsided. I was not prepared to see any of that. I felt ugly, I felt like so much had been taken from me, and appearance reflected that.  I almost didn't care, that I could still speak and see. All my cognition was still intact, but I pissed that I had part of that decision. 


This time, I'd be saying "Go ahead and shave my head!" "It's OK that you may leave me without the ability, to speak, move, think ..." "I don't mind that I'll have a hell of a fight ahead of me." "I believe in you enough to allow you in my head." More importantly, it would say: "see I can do it all over again!"


So I guess it's not JUST seizure control I'm seeking!  - Yes, I'm a control freak!