Legacy..

You’re legacy is whatever your decisions,choices and paths you decided to take. You can leave behind a great legacy or a disaster in your wake. The one thing I always wanted was to leave a trail of fire in my wake, not a blaze of destruction but a blaze of powerful influence. Like all things in life, you can use your gifts for good, or you can use your gifts for bad. Facing my own mortality and thinking about the future is both enlightening and frightening.

Right now, my fears in their own way have come out of their closet. I’m battling my own health issues and thing not to let them hold me down. I’ve decided to bask in my own sadness for a moment before I pick myself right back up. I never discourage people to not feel what they feel. Bask in your emotions good or bad because they are yours. There are no right feelings to feel when shit goes south, when you get bad news. The only bad reaction is to not bounce back. You have to. There’s no other choice but to stop crying eventually and keep fighting to see another day. 

Today I got news that made me realize that the fire that I storm everything in my life with is fully ablaze. It was the most powerful news for me that I could get. You see, somewhere that I thought I was never appreciated, it turns out that my hard work and due dilligence paid off. I was used as an example. The fact is that I work damned hard to make sure I’m the best at everything that I do. If I plow shit for a living I’m going to be the best damned shit plowed that ever was. 

The notification that I got today lifted my spirits from the depths of despair that I was living with fear and worry about my health. It made me once again remember that I’m going to law school. I’m going to ignite an even bigger blaze in my path before my candle blows out in the wind. 

Dr. Who?

With all the things that my dad is going through health wise, I decided to suck it up and go see a doctor. It turns out that my PCP who I love and reminds me of the little man from UP has retired. I’ve been mourning him for 2 weeks now. What really pushed me to seek medical help was I got food poisoning the week before last, then I wound up with some viral cold/flu that kicked my ass and had me towing crossing over.  I admit, after my time working for a personal injury firm and seeing hospitals in New York failing epicly, I’m sketched. The bulk of my treatment and my daughters is in Long Island with surgeries in Manhattan and Long Island. I’ve never been treated by doctors out on the other boroughs that are affiliated with any local hospitals. Its not to say that there aren’t amazing doctors, but the level of care is just vastly different. NYU compared to Woodhull before the purchase. If you don’t know, once upon a time, Woodhull was a nightmare. You might check in, crap shoot if you check out. You couldn’t pay me to check in there.

So the moral is that I know better. I don’t get injections from basement doctors or get medicines out of zip lock bags. Normally, I do my due diligence. When I was super sick last week I decided to call a doctor because I really felt like I was dying. I got ahold of an office that scheduled me for a week later. Mind you, I had searched for a PCP in my area. Time passed I showed up to my appointment yesterday. Of course, it wasn’t drama free. I looked like a crazy person exchanging words with the car service that picks up my dad from dialysis. My dad called and they were an hour late, telling him they’d be there in 15 minute increments. By the time I was done I had ripped them a new asshole and threatened them if something happens to my father in his condition.

I proceeded to go into the office. Hindsight is amazing. I filled out the paperwork which was unremarkable and waited patiently. When I was called in I gave the nurse my entire history. Food poisioning, etc.  when the doctor came in I gave him the same run down. He asked if I had anxiety, I told him that it’s possible at this time. Long story short he proceeded to tell me to strip down and put on the gown. They were going to run a panel for HIV, STD’s and thyroid. This should’ve been my first clue that something was off. In fact for a minute I paused and repeated his instructions. Yet, I still sat down waited for him and the nurse to return and had a vaginal exam.

I went to work and told my bestie about it. She was hilarious because her first question was if there was a nurse present. I responded yes, I don’t think I was molested. Long story short, I had not made an appointment with a PCP. It was an ob/gyn. No wonder he was like okay crazy person, when I proceeded to give him my entire medical life. Today, I was cleaning out my bag and found the business card. Sure enough further evidence that I had gone to an OB/GYN. What throws me off is that the person that scheduled me could hear that I couldn’t talk. I had a hell of a sore throat and told her I was coming in because I was so sick. Maybe she thought I was pregnant and dying of a cold but we were clearly both mistaken… and that’s the story of how I got my vajajay checked when I was really trying to treat a god damned cold…

WWYD (What Would You Do)

Have you watched that show? What would you do? Some of the situations are mind blowing and enraging. Ironically, the other day they showed a situation involving babies. A couple brings a baby to a 10 star restaurant and the question was what would you do if the baby is crying through your dinner. Me personally I’m an asshole. I would side eye through my entire meal. Listen, I’m a mom, but I didn’t take my daughter out until I felt ready she was a silent presence out in public. I can honorably say my daughter never had a meltdown in public. Then again my silent motherly theme song was L.L. Cool J’s Mamma said knock you out. My daughter knew better. Even now, I take her to work no one even knows she’s there. Which brings me to today. 

Today, although I’m dying from a cold, I took my daughter to go see boss baby the movie. The thing is, it’s obviously a kids movie. But why did I hear actual screaming babies that were not cast on the movie? Listen, I sacrificed and didn’t expose the world to a constantly screaming child. Even before I had kids I hated the parents who just let their monster scream bloody murder. Kids are unpredictable, I know you can’t just put a cork in them, but you do have to teach them manners. I used to purposely take my daughter down the toy aisle to teach her that not always would she get a toy and we do not act up. She never had a meltdown for a toy. 

When I became a parent my mantra was I don’t want to hear this shit, so neither should you have to hear it. Some places are baby free zones. Would you take your newborn into a nightclub? Would you take your infant to the bar?  Maybe some body shots for the kid? The answer is no. So if you wouldn’t take your kid out to those places why is it so far fetched to not take your screaming child or infant to a 5 star restaurant where my chicken costs as much as a god damned farm of chickens. I just think it’s prudent. So yes, I’m an asshole but I also was prudent enough to put parenting first above my own need to go see the latest flick. By the way the movie was awesome. Some adult intended suggestive comments but overall hilarious, a tad sad but great. 

The Fountain of Youth…

If I had to write some wisdom to my younger self, I would remind myself to try to enjoy the journey. In a generation where information is at your disposal and beauty or its faux standard in your face, sometimes I feel sorry for the children of today. When I was 12 I was 12. I didn’t know entirely about sex, I wasn’t obsessed with my appearance. In fact, I played with dolls, watched 90210 without fully understanding the implications of the show. I was in essence a kid. I rollerbladed, rode my bike without worrying that a strand of hair would be out of place. I was a kid. 

When I hit high school, I was aware of my own beauty both internally and externally but once again it didn’t affect the things I did. Social media is a monster. Even back then and I’ll explain why. I enjoyed what I could of my years given my circumstances. My physical appearance wasn’t a hindrance in any way growing up because I didn’t care what people thought. In all honesty I never had body image issues. I never suffered self doubt or confidence. In fact, it was the opposite. 

When I grew up in my 20’s Myspace was the internet crack. When I started posting photos that’s when I became somewhat aware. People would leave comments about my luscious lips. To me before my MySpace page my lips were just lips. They would comment on my toned legs how amazing they were. To me, I had toned legs because I had no car and had to walk everywhere. The point is that social media began to make me notice things about myself that I hadn’t realized or taken notice to. In my mind, I was just beautiful because. 

I talk to my daughter all the time. I explain to her that as she grows up, I will let her do more things. Everything at its age. The most important thing I tell her is to enjoy her journey. She will only live it once. Don’t try to grow up too fast because before you know it you’re an adult with your own responsibilities and you can’t go back. Enjoy being care free and a child. The last most important thing I teach my daughter is yes she is beautiful. But don’t put your focus on vanity. An empty mind and an empty heart render you empty. You can be as pretty as you want but be grow up to be a woman of substance for beauty fades.

 The reason I brought this up is that my daughters half sister has been dying to turn 13. She lives a much faster life than I did. But her rush to grow up makes me sad. I told her as much the other day. I told her to enjoy her youth while she can. That I couldn’t understand her rush to grow up. When I was 16, 18 was my goal so I could go out. After 18, I hit 20 and then they flew away and I stare at my 30’s. I enjoyed my years despite my adversity. But I wish I had spent more time enjoying my youth. Because there is no fountain of youth… once you go forward you can’t go back. 

Anx…

I don’t think I’ve ever in my life had anxiety. After working in New York for about the past 8 years or so I can say I have anxiety. This morning is no exception. My heart is racing as I type, I keep willing for a reason not to come in or show up. Oh, my paper essay died I need a moment of silence. Oh, my shoe is wet I have to go back home before I melt. Anything. 

Law firms in New York are nothing to what Florida firms are. Floridas atmosphere is laid back and calm. Here, it’s chaotic and vicious. It’s interesting that it’s not the internal factor that’s an issue necessarily. I think I just need a break. A break without the feeling of overwhelming anxiety that when I return I’m fucked. That when I return I’ll be drowning in more work than before I left. 

My anxiety is so intense I’ve put off my last semester(s) of school. Just so I don’t have to decide on law school or grad school. Avoidance. That’s the term. I am avoiding making a decision. In essence I’m sitting here like a sitting duck wanting a decision to be made for me, because sometimes it’s easier that way. 

When I was laid off because of the economy in Florida relieved. I didn’t have to make a decision to leave the place I had for months been staring out the glass doors to walk out of. In a matter of months the decision was made and sigh of relief. I’m free. 

What they don’t tell you..

I’ve had moments of insanity. I call it insanity because for me personally children are cute but even better when they go home to someone else.  I have occasionally thought about giving my daughter a sibling. For health for life a sidekick to share life with. I love my kid. She’s smart, hilarious, ambitious and the list can go on. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t have days this week I wanted to get my passport and sail off into the sunset without her. Does it make me a bad mom? I don’t think so. In fact, I think it’s normal to think that and feel that way. I think women tear each other up over feeling like this but I think more moms think this than they let on. 

I am an only child. Because of this everything falls on me. I’m not complaining but what I am saying is it’s hard. It’s hard to juggle your life and become your parents caretaker. No one tells you these things. You go to college think about a career but who prepares you for your parents ailing health. Was it a given? Did I skip that lecture? If I had a sibling maybe I wouldn’t be playing circus like I am right now. 

This is what makes me feel like I should’ve given my daughter a sibling. So that the day I am gone she is not alone. So that the day I am not well she has someone to help support her through it. 

Because life is hard. There are no easy choices, and even harder challenges await and as the adage goes: “life waits for no man.”

The caretaker..

Being a caretaker for a loved one is challenging. It far exceeds or at least matches caring for a child. Except it’s an adult. My father died litterally and came back. The miracle in that isn’t lost on me. What I am however is overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed with my work responsibilities, my motherly responsibilities and my responsibilities as a daughter. Normally my weekends are lax. But since my fathers critical condition I’ve been running ragged. To the point I opted to not see him for a few days so I could sort of rest. This weekend I tore my house upside down to try to make more room for my dad and make it more comfortable than it was. He has now reached end stage kidney failure and has stage 4 heart failure with high blood pressure and pulmonary hypertension. 

He started the road to dialysis. It’s a long road and a hard one. One he adamantly did not want. For now, he’s complying and taking his meds and I’m happy. But as I think of the daunting work week and treatment week I know we’ve still only just begun. Although I’m at home today, I can’t help but wonder how he will manage tomorrow.