#YesAllWomen...

i don't want to be a victim.
i don't want to be running scared,
walking through the world like there's a target on my back,
worried that someday, somewhere, someone is waiting.
watching.
waiting.
waiting for the perfect moment -- to strike.

i don't want to be paranoid. i don't want to be afraid;
constantly re-living the past. always aware of an unknown -- unseen -- unnamed --
threat.

because that's how i've been living.
that's what i've become.
this is the world that i inhabit, that i understand, that i know appears irrational
-- but i also know to be horribly. nightmarishly.
real.

i feel lost...

I never understood why people get so emotional about graduating. In the past, I've listened to coworkers, classmates, and friends express everything from anger to paralyzing fear about leaving the undergraduate realm. Honestly, I can't tell you how many times I've been the shoulder-to-cry-on or the assistant job seeker for people.

When I say I never understood, I mean that I never felt the way they did. People would say things, "I'm just not ready to leave," "I've got nowhere to go now," "I'm so scared that nothing is going to work out," and the like. Out loud, I was supportive, and I could both logically and empathetically see where they were coming from. It's a big step, leaving the campus and people that have become so familiar. Life once again becomes uncertain. On the other hand, I internally wondered why they weren't jumping up and down for joy at the chance for freedom -- for real adulthood -- for graduate school or job opportunities -- for bigger and better things -- CARPE DIEM!! Get me OUT of here!!

With my own graduation ceremony looming less than 72 hours away, I suddenly feel a rash of emotions and sentiments that previous students have expressed. While walking across campus today, I couldn't help but utter a noise of disgust and say, "I hate this place." Surveying the grounds and the pretty pink tulips, I thought, "Well, it's not so bad. But still -- I can't wait to be finished with all of this." Then, as I received my cap and gown, I trudged slowly across campus in tears, thinking, "They're kicking me out. All I did was what they asked, and now they're sending me away to who knows where doing who knows what with who knows who! How could they do this to me?!"

It's quite the rollercoaster. I don't recommend it.

Lately, I've been having nightmares. I mean, I usually do, but these are different. Often when I sleep, I dream of a void: me suspended in empty, crushing darkness. There is no up or down, no point with which to orient myself and determine where I am, or even who I am. Nothing is familiar, and I am alone. I've had these kinds of dreams before, but never with this intensity or such lingering effects.

Waking from these dreams leaves me in a fog of uncertainty. I go throughout the day as though still stuck in that dark, cold emptiness. I felt it again as I unwrapped my wrinkled, too long, navy blue graduation gown and untangled the gold tassle strands. Running my fingers through the tassle strands, it suddenly hit me -- the dreams and lingering feelings come from my feeling of placelessness. It exists so strongly in me that it manifests itself in my dreams. I truly feel lost, along with a decent amount of panic.

As I've thought more about this, I've concluded that this sort of anxiety speaks to feelings of displacement based on my changing position in the world. Though I do have places that are important to me, none of them are permanent. Everything in my life is transitory right now: graduation this week and finishing school in June; leaving the university I've grown to know well; acceptance to graduate programs that I'll never actually go to because they're online; leaving a student job and needing to find other employment; even my housing situation is in flux. My present places are quickly becoming my past places, and future places are presenting themselves -- though some are not really places; more like virtual experiences.

It's an unknown -- it's a feeling of anxiety that occurs even before losing an important place. Facing graduation, loss of employment, and an almost place-less form of virtual graduate schooling creates that anxiety in me.

Of course, changes like these aren't a bad thing. They're actually very good things; things I've worked for and looked forward to for a very, very long time. The emotional effects, though, are incredibly real. Being displaced from the undergraduate experience, employment, and people is a lot to handle all at once. It's kind of like when someone is forced into homelessness or made into an exile through war or foreclosure. I don't mean to minimize these events by comparing them to my current transition; losing a home or a familiar place because of such traumatic events is without a doubt much worse. I use that comparison because it's the only one that makes sense to me, that I can understand.

Graduating is turning me into a school-less (and somewhat reluctant) migrant student -- an exile from everything I have known for the last three years. While my exile is partially by choice, and the graduate program I've chosen to attend does provide a new place to go, I'm still being displaced. I have met the requirements for graduation, and my diploma becomes both a celebration and a pink slip.

I don't like change. I don't like losing the places and the people I have come to know and appreciate. However, I am human, and so my body must move. It must change and move and go new places, do new things. I of all people understand this now: after spending nearly a month in bed recovering from a surgical procedure, I've learned that staying in a room too long really can make a person go crazy. I wanted out! I wanted to move and change and go to other places. And I could not.

It was hugely frustrating.

None of us is meant to be stationary; movement of some sort is necessary. Still, the emotional distress that occurs from losing place is real. I'm feeling it in a big way now. I feel a mixed bag of loss, excitement, anger, sorrow, anxiety, betrayal, anticipation. These places have been critical in forming who I am and where I will go in the future. It's probably universal: places affect us and shape us. Perhaps the fact that places are key formative elements is what makes the displaced feeling distressing. We know we must move on from certain things, but letting go is difficult due to the ties to the place we grew and changed in.

For me, my feelings of loss over my current state and place are helping to spur me on to the next experience. I mourn the loss of familiarity and worry over the new places I must find, yet these familiar places help me realize that I can't stay. Current places have shaped what I do, who I am, and where I will go. My experience as an undergrad student, while coming to a seemingly abrupt and frightening end, has created that desire to move to a new place because of the experiences I've had in the place I now leave.

It's a strange, almost cyclical phenomenon: loss of place creating sadness and anxiety over the loss, while silmultaneously pushing us to find new places, which also creates uncertainty and grief. This constant shuffling of place is what makes us grow and change. Memories of old places shape our interactions with the new. Both types of places directly influence who we are, how we think, what we will become, and where we will go in the future.

Thinking about it in this way is helping to turn my feelings of terror (yes -- terror) about the coming changes into excitement. I won't lie. The fear is still very real, as is the deep loss I can't quite understand and never expected would occur. However, it's being tempered with curiosity and excitement for the experiences and places that lie ahead of me.

Though don't expect me to be all hopeful all of the time -- I'm desperately hanging on to any happy thoughts to keep myself from falling apart!

strange...

If someone had told me that I'd be where I am right now, I would have laughed and asked if there was a drug problem I needed to know about so I could get the person some help.

Based on what I see in my life, I don't know what to think of myself. I don't know if I'm overly hopeful, or a work-a-holic, or just plain stupid. I do know that I'm overly anxious and that I sell myself short, to me and everyone else. Lucky for me, I have friends and family who help me when I'm having a rough day.

Despite worries and concerns, I'm pretty happy. Circumstances are strange and completely unexpected, but I'm doing well.

Life sure can throw you for a loop.

pretending is really tiring...

I woke up this morning and said to myself, "Self? Today, you are going to be happy. Even if it kills you, you will smile, laugh, talk to lots of people, and walk with a spring in your step. You will not cry. You will not frown. You will not worry. You will be witty and funny and hug everyone. Because you are not going to hurt anymore. You won't be sad. You have a good life -- live it good."

16 hours later, I've learned that all of that stuff is a lot easier said than done. I already knew it was harder to do than to say. I've just learned again how much harder it can be.

Honestly, I'm exhausted. I'm sick, I'm hurt, I'm angry, and I'm scared. I feel totally alone, even though I know that I'm not. And I feel guilty! I feel guilty for all of these feelings, because my life really is good. I have great work, great friends, great family, great classes, great professors, great opportunities. And yet I wake up every day and it's an absolute battle to get out of bed.

What's strange to me is a comment that someone made whilst talking with me in the courtyard at school. She looked at me and said, "You know, you always look happy. I see you every single day at least twice in passing, and you just always look happy. I don't know how you do it."

As I started to scoff, she said, "I'm trying to be more like you."

She emotionally floored me. I don't feel happy. I know for a fact that I often don't look happy, either. Dad tells me I'll have worry wrinkles by the time I'm 25 (whereas my money is on 23). So for her to say she wants to be like me?

I'm trying to change. I'm trying to be that girl who smiles and laughs and helps everyone else.

But I'm not that girl. I'm the quiet one, the one who looks at her feet, the one who worries about the well-being of people who have used her and taken advantage of her, the one who tries to be everything.

Tomorrow is another day. Another day to practice.

my life right now...

Whoever thought it was a good idea to call me to be a Relief Society teacher is crazy. Wait...

Parker is married. And Sierra is married. And Alyssa is married. And Abe is married. And Jason and Morgan are married...to each other. Funny, if things had gone as planned, I would have beaten them all at tying the knot. Let's just say I'm glad they went first!

I am obsessed with checking my position on the waitlist for Economics 110. Down to 24th (one second)...sorry, 23rd (yes, I did just check it again) from 110th. It's almost as bad as eBay bidding.

White Collar. White. Collar. NO, I have not watched the first season in less than a week for the second time. And NO, I do not plan on starting the second season again tomorrow. Give me a break.

But seriously, Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay -- I can't decide who I like better.

Why is it that I am absolutely terrified of calling/texting/contacting in any way, shape, or form, the one person who I should not be afraid of contacting? It's kind of ridiculous.

Living at home is making me lazy and depressed. I stay in my room all day, avoiding family at all costs because for some reason, every time I emerge, a fight breaks out. I don't know if it's my tone of voice (which would be hard, because I've pretty much stopped speaking), my facial expressions (again, hard because I usually hide behind a book), or my smell (possibly, because mom thinks my jasmine-vanilla lotion smells like bug spray). So basically I sit in my room and weigh the pros and cons of staying or leaving every time I decide to venture out. Let's just say it sucks.

My dogs are possibly THE neediest dogs on the planet. I don't care, though. It's nice having the little furry things in my room all day.

I decided that I figured out why there are so many liberal thinkers in the Humanities and Social Sciences fields -- I've been doing some research on course requirements for various majors and I've found that most (if not all) of those majors are not required to take Economics (except for mine, of course -- go figure), at least at my university . They can take other classes to fulfill course requirements instead. If Econ is an option, they skip it. I would, too, if I had any other choice. So they read loads of Russian or German or French or whatever literature, and tons of philosophy, and never get into the actual history of what happened to the people financially under socialist and communist governments. Fascinating, what we think works, and how we easily ignore actual history.

It sickens me that one person (me) has so much stuff. And yet, when I decide I'm getting rid of things, I cannot let go! That stuff cost money. A lot of it is in the form of books and memories (journals, photographs, and the like), and arts and crafts supplies. Then there's all of the bedding and clothes (gah, I have so many clothes) -- but I use them all! It's a dilemma, I tell you. A real dilemma. 

Sometimes, when I'm having a sad moment, I picture his cute face and just grin like an idiot. And then I wonder why I'm scared to call him, because he is my boyfriend -- I'm afraid that I'm needy, I guess.

I hurt so, so much. After having that ultrasound, I am completely perplexed by the fact that such a tiny piece of anatomy can cause such excruciating and all-consuming pain, not to mention fainting, vomiting, fevers, and what have you. My whole life I've thought that ovaries and uteri and all those other things were huge because anything that could make so much of my body hurt all of the time had to be ginormous. Wrong. Takes childbirth to a whole new level as well, I'll tell you what.

I got hired to do freelance writing for some sort of online independent business marketing firm. Wish me luck.

Oh, one last thing. Guess who is going on a weekend trip to Cedar City with her man and...wait for it...her man's parents. The four of us, three days seeing plays and hanging out at the Shakespeare Festival. I'm honestly extremely excited, and the more I think about it, just as terrified.

Let's do this.

...

Lately when I think about writing, I feel sick. Then again, that's how I feel when I think about most things.

I'm often ready to bolt into the nearest restroom because my stomach turns and twists so much. I'm always (not an exaggeration) on the verge of tears. I can't sleep.

The worst thing is that my happiness for other people's joy is tinged with a deep pain. It isn't jealousy; I know how jealousy feels -- mean and angry and bitter. This is different. It's more like a quiet, aching sorrow, one that I don't want the happy person to know about because I don't want to detract from his/her joy.

And yet, I sometimes wish they knew, just so they could give me a hug and a job to do so I can help bring about their special days. It's better when I'm working, especially when I'm working for others.

It'll get better. Honestly, it only can get better from this.

I'm lucky, really. Lucky that this is happening: I'll be more aware of others' feelings. I'm learning to be more forgiving. I'm learning to take care of myself for me, not to please someone else. I'm understanding that what I want is just as important as what someone else wants (although I still often do not have opinions, which some of my friends mistake for not sticking up for what I want -- sometimes, I just don't care what we're doing because I'm with people, which means I'm not alone). I'm getting better at telling people the truth regardless of the consequences. I'm practicing asking for help.

I'm growing.

Funny, how I forget that growing physically comes with pain, too -- joints enlarging, muscles stretching, bones lengthening -- keeping me awake when I was little as my body changed into the 5' 2" person I am now. Why should mental, emotional, and spiritual growth be any different?

Perhaps because the pain, for me, is enhanced by other things in my life, such as the long-time struggle with depression, and the more recent appearance of quite severe anxiety. And part of it is my personality: two of my friends were talking to me last night, and they reminded me quite firmly that my loyalty to others has often placed me as less important -- that it's time to stop taking the backseat. And they're right -- while being loyal isn't a bad thing, strengths can easily be weaknesses if used the wrong way.

I'm lucky in friendship. Lucky that I have people in my life who care about me, and who stick with me no matter what's going on in my life. I'm lucky that I have people who celebrate my successes, and who lift me up when I've hit the ground.

Georgie's just lucky, I guess.

now leaving Mordor...

And when I leave the testing center and turn in all of my papers, I feel like this:

Yes. I do use Lord of the Rings to explain and understand my life.

Spring term 2013 -- good riddance. And now to take a week long nap.

i am iron maiden...

False.

While I would like to believe that I embody qualities of Tony Stark, as in the ability to laugh in the face of danger and be phased by nothing, that is the absolute opposite of the truth. Case in point, sitting through Iron Man 3 was a nightmare. After wobbling through the parking lot, desperate to get to my car and on my way home, a panic attack ensued, leaving me so exhausted and shaky that I could barely drive.

Yep. The film was a bit too intense for this girl. Objectively, I believe that it is the best of the three when you look at character and plot development, as well as graphic quality. The film also had an actual bad guy who was legitimately frightening. Stark's other nemeses? Snore. Subjectively, not my favorite film, and one I probably will avoid in the future in favor of a Psych marathon or Captain America.

Second severe anxiety episode this weekend. Thank heaven for good friends who let you spill how you feel, who don't judge you for the crazy thoughts you share, and hug you tight so you feel safe.

Also, the puppies are seven days old as of this morning. Their eyes opened yesterday, and they are precious. I'll post some pictures as soon as I get my camera back from my sister -- can't believe she's graduating this week. It's a wee bit insane.

uncomfortable...

It's a pretty terrible feeling when you'd do anything to get out of your own skin.

Uncomfortable.

Awkward and uncomfortable.

The only thing that's been keeping me from falling apart today is that my new fosters need me. That and forcing myself to keep moving, despite the pain that's been nagging at me since last night.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of constantly fighting the thoughts and feelings that tear at my insides. No matter what drugs I take, no matter how many counselors I talk to, things never seem to get better. I try and I try and I always find myself back at square one.

I feel as though there is no one to talk to. I know I have friends and family who will listen, but I worry that I'm a bother. I just say the same things over and over again -- mainly because the fight has never ended. It's the same fight with the same demons, and nothing ever seems to change.

People tell me that I've changed. That I'm doing better. Perhaps because I'm in the middle of it all, I don't see the change.

May Day...

First day of May.

Wake up and think, 'my face is frozen'.

Follow me to the bathroom and experience a bewildering sensation that the tile has suddenly turned into an ice rink. I forgot my skates, so my toes were not very happy.

Turn on the faucet to 'HOT' and find that even after running it for 30 seconds, the water won't come out warm.

Look out the window and see ice on the bushes, slowly becoming water as the sun forces itself through the clouds.

Walk outside and realize that the sweater isn't going to be enough, and it's time to pull out the winter coat. Again.

May Day, anyone?

For real. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday -- get me outta here!

iHurt...

Most of my posts have been quite depressing of late. And for that, I apologize.

I don't apologize for needing to write things down, though. For some reason this is the only medium I've found where I can truly confess how I feel and what I think. I have journals, loads of them -- and they're all blank. Writing in those is terrifying. I'm not really sure why. I think it might be because I really want the thoughts and feelings I have to be read by someone. Anyone. Because goodness knows it's hard enough for me to order a  hamburger, let alone say my feelings have been hurt.

iHurt.

I feel like that's my life anymore. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually -- every time I get close to finding peace and reassurance, something else goes wrong. Painfully wrong. A constant iHurt application.

Heartbreakingly wrong.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of not knowing, of not having answers, of trying to move forward and being set back -- school, work, relationships -- and I'm tired of people thinking they know what I need. It's understandable, in a way. I never say what I need. Heck -- I don't even know what I need. But I do know that what people think I need is very different from what I think I need.

That's what I've been doing today. Evaluating my needs. Evaluating my desires. Which makes me feel incredibly selfish, and also powerful. And terrified.

My  heart hurts so much today. My body hurts.

habits...

I've been thinking a lot about habits, and how uncomfortable I get when a habit of mine is broken. My roommate and I were talking about it in the car on the way to the grocery store (went shopping for the first time in a month today). We are both noticing that each of us do the same things at the same places (though we personally do different things). For example, when we go to Cafe Rio, we both get pork burritos without sauce and with cheese on the top. When we go to Wendy's, she always gets the same combo, and I always get the same combo. When we go to Target, we always go in the same door, and I always have to stop at the nail polish section to see if there are any new colors.

Those are just a few that we share. But I've noticed a lot of my own.

I never leave my bedroom in the morning without first washing my face and brushing my teeth. I hate skipping that. Same with going to bed; if I don't do those two things, I can't sleep. I do chores in the house in the same order every single time, with a set plan for timing and efficiency. Last night when I did all of the chores, I did them in the wrong order and got so thrown off that I almost started over.

I can't open my garage door until I've gotten in my car and shut the door. I take the same route through the grocery store every time I go, starting with produce and working my way section by section on my list (which is written according to the layout of the store). The dishes in the dishwasher are placed, when I load it, in the same spot every time. The pantry is organized by food type, as are the shelves in the fridge and freezer. So are my clothes in the drawers, and even in the closet.

And another really weird habit? I eat my sandwiches, meat, whatever it is, in circles. Seriously. I start on one side and work my way around in a circular direction until it's gone. I even spin my plate in circles (unless it's pasta, soup, or something that doesn't require cutting -- oatmeal would fall into this category, too). My food is particularly organized; so is Chelsea's. When I eat, cook, bake, shop, bag items in the store, put things away -- there is a system for everything that cannot be broken, or I get anxious.

There are all of these bizarre little quirky things that I've been noticing about myself. If I do things differently, it bothers me a lot. I will try new things, like food and places to have fun -- usually I do that out of fear of what others will think if I don't, rather than because I want a new experience.

I guess this realization is coming from trying to break other habits that are a serious problem. Not only that, but I'm trying to feel more -- that's my assignment, to allow myself to feel what I feel, rather than pushing it away or pretending (which sucks and I hate it). All of these weird rituals are truly that: weird.

Funny how I've lived with myself for nearly 21 years (gah, I'm getting older) and am just barely seeing things that I do every single day. I wonder why it's so much easier to observe other people's patterns of behavior than it is to observe our own.

What are your habits?

ER, anyone?

At 10:00 tonight, I got a call from a friend informing me that another friend was in serious trouble.

So I called a different friend with a car, and we kindly forced the troubled friend into said car. And then drove to the emergency room. After which, we spent 30 minutes trying to get her out of the car and into the ER.

Finally, she agreed to come in. Very reluctantly. I pretty much pushed her across the parking lot.

At 1:00 this morning, Chelsea came and picked me up because the migraine I had this morning started coming back. And I have a 12 page paper to finish that is due at 8:00 this morning.

So. That's taken care of for now. Not the paper, but the friend in trouble.

Never taken a friend to the ER before.

Never pulled an all-nighter as a BYU student before, either (and school is out tomorrow...what?).

Never thought I'd like a Christmas song featuring C-Lee and the Muppets. NEVER.

Now to write 3 more pages. And maybe get some sleep. But after two 20 ounce bottles of Coke Zero, that might not be happening. We'll have to see.

finals weekend...

I'm dying.

Not literally dying, but metaphorically dying. As in my brain cannot seem to function and my eyes want to stay shut forever.

How is it possible for me to have so much to do, yet be so bored?

Honestly, I do not know how I'm going to retain all of this information. All of it is familiar because I discussed it (or listened to my professor drone for an hour every other day) in classes three times a week, but really. I don't know how I'll write good, solid mini essays on events/people/books when I am required to prepare for 41, but only need to know 10. So much information.

Not to mention that same professor, who I have two classes with, told my entire American Studies class that we are "terrible writers" and that "some of your essays are so bad that I just read through the first paragraph and wrote 'I quit' on the top, then gave you a C. If you'd spent time on your essays, and actually attempted to do a good job, I might have read all of it. But really -- it's not like you're freshmen. Really, just awful. Awful."

If I didn't need a good grade, I would write, "I read the first question and it was so bad that I realized I can't take this exam because I don't have enough time to actually attempt to do a good job. I quit."

Temptation. Plagues me to no end.

hurr...

I was in bed for 12 hours.

Kid you not. I went to bed at 10:15 last night, and didn't get out again until 10:15 this morning. Sleeping pills are magic. When they work. And it for sure worked this time!

My first look in the mirror, however, was not magical. The face looked fine, the circles under my eyes a light gray color instead of the usual almost black. And the eyes were brighter, too. But the hair...

Good heavens. Now, I often wake up with a head of curls, because that's what happens when a girl has curly hair. This particular morning, though, was less pretty and/or cute curls, but a Medusa-like tangle of twisting, twining springs.

No way am I brushing that beast out. It'll frizz up like a Pomeranian in the Amazon.

Curly hair problems: it does what it wants.

i haven't been this tired since...

Yesterday.

Good grief.

You know, there are a lot things I can get used to. I can (and have) gotten used to headaches. I manage them -- even when my head really hurts, I push it aside as much as I can. I'm pretty used to nausea and dizziness at this point, too. I can manage it. I deal. No worries.

But man. I don't know if I'll ever get used to being tired. You'd think that overcoming that would be the easiest. No way, Jose. I keep going because I have to, but my mind is so foggy and everything takes longer than it should.

Can't think.

It's just been a struggle this week. A good week, because a lot of good things have happened at school and work. But a struggle, too. My whole body drags, and my mind isn't far behind. Sometimes, I have to sleep, instead of getting things done.

Crazy how exhausting school is.

should have been an English major...

Remember that 12 page paper?

Done.

In 4 hours.

WIN.

And I actually feel that it's pretty decent for the most part. There are a couple of places that need some polishing, but seeing as the final product isn't due until December 13th (a complete draft is needed for full credit during the in class work shopping), I have some time to spruce it up (like a Christmas tree -- yep, it's almost midnight).

Now to take it to school tomorrow and have it peer reviewed. Which means that after I get the 100% grade for bringing it in and having another student look at it, I will promptly disregard all of his/her remarks and take it to the Writing Center for a coworker to look at instead.

Anthropology students struggle at peer reviews. Just saying.

you know those times when...

...you sit at your computer for hours with the intention of starting a paper/essay/research project, but you end up staring at the screen because you can't seem to get started?
...you lay in bed for hours with the blankets over your head while you cry because no matter how tired you are, you can't fall asleep?
...you park yourself on the couch and enter the woman's version of the "nothing box," which is when you're thinking about so many things that it becomes absolutely unintelligible, the thoughts so disconnected it's as though they're not even happening?
...you look at your bank statement and feel utter shock course through you as you see how little money you have left, and can't seem to remember what you spent it all on?
...you wish you could talk to someone, but every time you try, no one listens because they start talking about how hard their own lives are or lecturing you on what you should do, should have done, or aren't doing enough of?
...you look at your calendar and want to stow away on a plane to Australia, where no one can find you and make you face your responsibilities?
...you wonder if there's any point to anything that you're doing anymore?

Pretty sure most people have those times. We'll get through them -- one day at a time. Just keep trying.

triggers...

On Thursday the doctor diagnosed me with chronic migraines and added a new rash of medications to my short list of drugs (now it's a medium list). He also told me that I should track any headaches that occur so we can find triggers, then eliminate or work with those things so that the migraines don't occur as frequently.

Day 2 of My Headache Journal has begun, and so far I've pinpointed a couple of things that bring on the headaches.

1. Anger, irritation or frustration (I guess talking out my frustrations in a raised voice while showering when no one is home isn't an option anymore)

2. Reading for extended periods of time

3. Laying on my left side, which is the side of my head that usually begins hurting first

Day 2 has also brought about some alterations for dealing with these triggers that I've noticed.

1. When angry, irritated, or frustrated, leave the situation, stop talking, or take a nap -- basically things I should do anyway. Or just not get mad at stupid stuff. Which is what I should do regardless of the threat of a migraine.

2. Read for half an hour, and then take a ten minute break (I won't lie and say ten minutes is the average -- those ten minute breaks often turn into half hour to forty-five minute excuse making escapades where I do everything I can think of which will keep me too busy for my homework).

3. Laying on my right side instead of my left (duh). I have also found that sleeping with my teddy bear lessens the pain. I'm not sure why that helps, but it does (and I don't mind it, either -- having an excuse to cuddle a toy is fine by me).

I am also happy to report that the doctor prescribed taking aspirin with sugar free Coke for managing headaches that do occur. Don't be surprised if you see me on campus with a bottle of the stuff -- I have no fear anymore as to what people may think of me drinking a caffeinated beverage. Take that, Dining Services. I'll just bring my own soda with me.

So far I'm able to manage the current headache I have a little better, now that I know how (even though it's lasted for over a week, roller coaster-ing in severity). I'm not sure how preventing future headaches will work out yet, especially because this one won't go away -- we'll wait and see how these new medications take hold. And if they don't, well. Back to the drawing board we'll go.

I'm sure my insurance company loves me right now.

"there's an app for that..."

It's an average day in your typical doctor's office. People are coming and going, some walking in looking sick, others walking out looking sicker. Each one has had their turn with the iDoctor -- and I don't mean the doctor who checks your eyes.

What's an iDoctor, you ask?

Well! An iDoctor is much like an electronic device, similar to an iPad, iPod, or iPhone. No, he or she isn't a robot or droid, or even a cyborg (heaven forbid the medical field takes that route), but they have a similar function: providing you with applications -- or pills -- for anything and everything you can imagine.

Stomach ache?

There's a pill for that.

Head pounding and throbbing incessantly?

There's a pill for that, too.

What about emotional or mental disorders?

Oh, sure. There are several pills for those -- which one would you like? How about trying one out to see if you like it? If it's not a good match you can cancel and try a new one.

See, like an iPad, iPod, or iPhone, the iDoctor has an easy solution for any problem you may have. That solution comes in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and functions, each in a different bottle with a different label. So simple! iDoctor gives you a pill, sends you on your way, and you're set to go! Whether curing boredom or curing a cold, the iDoctor can find any "app" you desire with the touch of a button -- he or she checks the proper "app" from the list and it's on its way, where it will arrive for your use in less than two hours after you swipe your plastic money card at the "app store," or in this case, your neighborhood pharmacy. AND -- you get refills.

Yep. No matter what you have, there's a pill for that.

Huzzah.

Although I may have outsmarted the iDoctor -- I don't think he has anything that can cure smart-aleck.