nothing's fair in love and war in 2013-2014

So… stuff.

When we went to Fort Sumter the day before the wedding, Aaron was very interested in the Park Passport program, where you get a little passport of national parks and each site can stamp their page. I was going to get it for him, except that I had left my debit card at work. I ended up buying him the booklet online, and just this week, Fort Sumter emailed me back agreeing to mail me the stamp for our book. Yay!

I got my formal offer letter for my current job. Pay increase of 50%. $38k/year. I am so excited, you have no idea… especially since Aaron’s job quit paying him and he quit, so we’ve both been struggling along at 12.50/hr. I’m barely getting my bills paid (two have slowly diminishing hanging balances) and he’s selling plasma twice a week. Then his student loan servicer, which is a complete asshole who resorts to dubiously legal tactics on a regular basis, threw down the hammer: settle or default and get basically credit-blacklisted for the next 10 years.

Fuck you too and I hope your honeymoon period is equally shot in the face.

So we’re scrambling to find the $14,000 we need to settle (because almost any lender is better than this corporation) and right now there’s a glimmer of hope? We’ve been rejected twice so far so pleeeease, please let this work out. I’m on as a guarantor. There is a chance that payments could be $400 a month, but probably $200. It’s like a series of punches to the face.

But he has a job interview with a state agency early this coming week. So. Maybe?

This week I’ve run out to the river tributary winding behind the McMansion suburb by my office. I stand on a pier or boat dock and look out over the water and the sky and I just pray. A lot. Until I feel better. Every time, I see these beautiful birds, herons and egrets, fishing. And every time, it’s like–God takes care of these birds, gives them their plumage and their meals, and he didn’t even die for birds. He’ll meet our needs.

We just don’t know how. It’s stressful.

Last Sunday we had some storms roll through that were fairly severe, although our building is kind of sheltered. We heard the wind whistle a few times, saw the trees whipping outside, watched the rain and thunder, but it was fine. Even Sheppy didn’t get too anxious. Then the power went out, just as Aaron was saving his video game. And stayed out. For five hours.

After sitting in bed reading with the window open for a breeze and flashlights and lanterns, we heard a neighbor woman talking about a tree falling on the lines right by the driveway entrance. Twitter confirmed. For lack of better things to do, we got dressed, used my phone as a flashlight, and walked down to the entrance. Hm. Yep. Big ol’ tree blocking the highway, dead power lines strewn on the road, cops and firetrucks and state power trucks swarming as they tried to fix it. We stood out and watched for quite a while, because it was itneresting, it felt better outside than inside, and a man from a competing power company was standing by us and was happy to tell us about how inferior the state company is and how they could be doing better. It was pretty exciting.

And then I got to report the damage to the National Weather Service, and my report made the storm damage report the next day! WHOOO! I was overcome with nerdy joy.

More storms are rolling through today. Might be a repeat. Whee?

Sunday I went to church with Aaron. We have a new meeting place now with a new congregation of people, because we’re married and out of the singles’ group. So now we’re with families. First hour is sacrament, and it’s… basically full of kids crying, and kids playing on iPhones, and kids talking, and parents shuffling snacks and toys in their bags, and I just felt empty. I was sleepy and cold after getting up at 8:30 to barely hear the speakers, who weren’t really teaching anything anyway (I don’t think). And I kind of felt like a quitter, but I can’t do it. I can’t sit and be a proper lady who just doesn’t have kids yet and it was just… smothering.

(Also, I didn’t teach preschool ministry for 10 years to be satisfied with kids playing app games in the pew in front of me. What. No. Heck no.)

Tuesday, I felt brittle and stressed, until I got in the car after work. I put on Halestorm’s new album and lowered the window, my forearm on the door, and sat in traffic listening to I Like it Heavy on repeat one for about 45 minutes, until I felt balanced and like me again. My job smothers me sometimes. I hate dressing like a professional young lady, in blouses and heels. I hate makeup every day and secretary voices and faking smiles. I hate worrying about money. I hate being bored at church. It all came to a head and until I listened to that song eleventy times, I was just frazzled. I oozed out of the car at home and just exhaled, and I didn’t fully relax until about 10pm. We were supposed to meet with the missionaries that night, but Aaron called them off on behalf of my mental health.

It’s been better since; we registered for a major 10k mud and obstacle race in October since there was a major discount going on, and I did that instead of dying and cutting my hair, and a little part of me clicked back into place. I think the wedding and gender roles of the church have been strangling the tomboy and she is really, really, really in need of some love.

Solution: run most days a week, bum around in wifebeaters and gym shorts, not fix my hair.
Solution 2: practically cry because as I act out like this and try to reclaim myself from the hideously boring and plain trappings of politemormonsecretarylady, Aaron’s just grinning and claiming that he fucking loves me, because no matter how classy we pretend to be, mostly we just want to go run around and get dirty.
Solution 3: use his “blood money” from plasma donation to get tickets to see Hollywood Undead next week and Rockfest tomorrow! …!!

Y’all have no idea how much that means. We met at Rockfest. We went to Rockfest while dating and it helped patch our damaged relationship. It wasn’t held last year, but we’re going while married and even though it’s more a metal lineup than rock, it should be damn entertaining. We can walk to the venue from our apartment, and it will be hot and sunny on a dirt field after a day of rain, and it should be the rough, filthy, loud, chaotic, beautiful chaos that I’ve been craving so badly.

Changing gears somewhat, last week I went in to do the medical screening for a scientific study on birth control medication. They’re on the phase 3 trial of a patch rather than a pill. It would pay $900, plus free birth control for over a year. Um, heck yes. I did wonderfully until the blood pressure screen. It was 132/95 the first time and even after peeing and meditating briefly, it only went down to 130/90. That’s stage one hypertension. The week before my wedding, it was 120/80. I failed out of the study–but they did give me some cash for my time, and since they’ll be enrolling for months, as soon as I get that bottom number down to 89, I can come back.

But obvs, concerned. Because wait, WHAT. I had eaten salty dinners the last two nights, but DAMN.

I saw our work nurse (we have an onsite nurse once a week) about the same time this week, after being careful about salt intake and exercise. I told her about what happened and she dug up her notes on me and agreed that that was odd. She took my blood pressure twice and it was about the same: 125/90. There is literally nothing else I can do, lifestyle-wise: I’ve been on a lower-sodium diet for 10 years; I exercise 3-4 times a week; I drink plenty of water; I’m off all cold medicines; I only have one caffeinated beverage a day most days and not even coffee or tea. My parents both have outrageous blood pressures, so the prevailing theory is that my genetics teamed up with the birth control (which can raise it) and now I’m hypertensive. She wants me to quit the BC.

So Friday after work I ran into my OBGYN’s office. I told the front desk that I wasn’t sold on my prescription and asked for a sample. She went back to find a nurse to sign off, and my actual NP who saw me had a brief opening between patients, so she snuck in to talk to me. She agreed that the blood pressure is ridiculous, and recalled that she had thought my heart was racing a bit when she saw me in early March. But because the other side effects of the BC are waning as I’m stabilizing at the end of month 2, there’s a chance that the blood pressure will moderate again too. So I have another month of this pill, will get my blood pressure checked every week, and we will reevaluate at my followup appointment at the end of May, which coincides with the end of my BC pack.

In the meantime, however, until this mystery blood pressure is resolved, she wants me ON birth control. Because pregnancy is even worse for blood pressure! So now I’m not medically cleared to get pregnant. HAHAHA. I can still be on BC with high blood pressure, as long as it’s controlled, and it’s not high enough to warrant medication. It’s literally one mmHg above average. One. One measly millimeter. That said, she might refer me to a family doctor for more focused monitoring.

So that’s been fun.

After all that, I parked my car at the back of the work lot again and set off on a run to find the end of the waterfront trail. It was great. I had a really fast run Tuesday, followed by a 5k walk Thursday, so my legs weren’t quite primed. The air was cool, dry, and windy, which isn’t conducive to great breathing, but I actually ran 5 miles! 8.1km in 1:20. I am so proud of myself. I also got sunburned a little, so I got my Vitamin D fix. My legs are worn out and I think I got a little spider bite on my lower thigh, but damn. If I backtrack along the trail instead of cutting through the neighborhoods/sunshine on the way back to the car, it’ll be right about 10k. I might start doing this on Fridays. It was so nice!

Except for how I was fantasizing about french fries for the first mile, told myself I had to go 5 miles before even thinking about it, and that I had leftover pasta at home. And then I went 5 miles, got gas and BC and cat food and felt bad about spending money, and got home to find that Aaron had finished the pasta for lunch and all that was left was cereal and rabbit food. No runner wants bran cereal and iceberg lettuce after a long run. I was devastated. Like, way too upset about that. My legs ached and I was tired and dirty from trail running, and Aaron felt bad and took me to McDonalds, where I did unmentionable things to a large Big Mac meal, passed out for a nap, and regretted nothing.

He woke me up in time to shower before meeting with the missionaries at a different couple’s apartment, which is in a complex that we were looking at as an option when this lease is up. It’s gorgeous, although out of our price range (apparently they’re jacking up the rent). But as opposed to most church women I meet, we both hit it off with this couple, Isaac and Lynn, and they even served us an impromptu dinner because Vietnamese women always have food ready. And sent us home with leftovers at… 10:30. Wow! We made FRIENDS! Crazy talk. We high-fived all the way home.

Today I finally called Heather and was very sadface about not being able to make her wedding–I have my first day of being salaried the day after; one salary right now; gas just shot up; we’d have to use our honeymoon allowance. Blah. I’d been agonizing over this decision for weeks and just could not find a way around it, even if the dress was marked down from $118 to $38 with free shipping.

So she bought me a plane ticket.

the fuck, man.