Colloquial Miss

 

What a colloquial miss. We tried, we really did. This is just the I-don’t-know-how-many-I’ve-lost-count day that has gone down this way. My friends are all away, having themselves some great adventures, and I made my peace with the fact that I was going to be sticking out our weeklong break at home (sweet home). I had a highlight planned: completing the first step in the agonizingly long process of getting my driver’s license.

First thing’s first, I have to get my “green slip”- green as in go. Or Kermit. It’s mainly a technicality, an eyesight check, but you need it before you can start everything. I’ve been spending my days trying to catch up on homework, which I’m somehow still behind on, and I haven’t had any fun. At all. This was the one thing I was really looking forward to. The first step- it’s so momentous.

When you go, they make sure you don’t need glasses, take your picture (which is the one that will go on your license) and hand you your green slip. So, I purposely straightened my bangs today, picked out a shirt that makes my neck look great (just go with it) and brings out the blue in my eyes, and put on a tad of make up. I spent the whole entire day doing homework, primarily math (a whooping 65 geometry proofs and differential math equations for over vacation), making it through solely because I had something to look forward to. I was alone at home all day, with the excitement just growing and throbbing inside of me, pulsing with my heart.

My mom swooped by the house at a quarter to seven, and we drove to the mall, to the store that green slips people (awkward verb improvisation going on here). We arrive, after my long day of anticipation, and my mom and I talk about how exciting all of this is, and how it’s such a big step even though it’s a technicality. We walk into the store, tell them why we’re there and what do they say? “We don’t do that anymore”. You’re kidding me right?

We find out that as of a few days ago or something equally annoying in a ridiculous manner, a store on the main street is in charge of green slipping people. My puffed up plastic bag of anticipation started deflating. My mom and I leave the mall, get back in the car and start driving again. It was so anticlimactic. She agrees with me. We parked in the municipal parking lot off of the Main Street and start in our mad dash to find the infamous store. We’re running, running, running, (running), and we arrive out of breath as we see the overhead sign. We practically leap forward, and guess what? It’s closed. It closed at seven.

You’re frickin’ kidding me, right?! RIGHT?!

Wrong.

Closed.

That plastic bag still half full of spitty air? Punctured. Slashed. Empty. Hollow. Deflated. Depressing. Gone. Lost for eternity.

In an attempt to rebound into something positive, we brought my memory stick over to a photography store to get the pictures on it developed. All’s great, all’s well, until they let us know that because they’re closing soon, we’ll need to come back tomorrow to pick up the pictures. Yippee.

So we got frozen yogurt.

But do you know what this means? This means, that when we go back tomorrow my hair will be oily, I will no longer be wearing my perfect picture shirt, I’ll have dark circles under my eyes (because I can’t sleep when I’m upset) and I will have no spitty bag of anticipation. I will look tired and depressed in my picture. And the lighting in that store is awful. I will end up looking grotesque.

But here’s to being optimistic, eh?

As we were sitting outside the frozen yogurt shop, while I drowned my sorrows in banana-date flavored yogurt, I explained to my mom why the situation sucks so much. I was just getting to the part about how I look pretty today, and I won’t tomorrow, when someone walked right by our table. So a random woman got a mouthful about how “I looked pretty today!!!” My mom started laughing when the woman looked back at us, and tried to console me with the fact that at least it wasn’t a boy from my class. You know why it wasn’t one of them? Because they’re all abroad! I’ve got friends right now in Rome, Barcelona, Amsterdam, Switzerland, Thailand, New York… Everywhere but right here, suffering with me. Although I think J will be back from Barcelona soon. Maybe I can depress her too. Here’s to hoping.

You know what? I wasn’t planning on doing this tomorrow. This is messing up my schedule! I’m lying, I have no plans. It’s just annoying. It’s doubly sad: I need to go there again, and I don’t have any plans.

I’m just gonna go to bed now. I think it’s safe.

It’s me,

Ella

Song Quote:

The worst things in life come free to us. –The A Team, Ed Sheeran

P.s. You know what? I’m gonna wear this shirt again. Take that.

Cousins’ Babies

Newborn-baby-001

I pretty much looked like this when I found out the news…

 

A few days ago, my mom gave me the good news: my cousin’s wife is pregnant. I smiled, we laughed, and then I started crying.

I’m the youngest in my family, and therefore never got to have little ones in the house that weren’t, well… me. This is the difference between my friends and me: they have baby cousins, and I have cousins’ babies. My oldest cousin, the one who is soon to be a third time father, was 25 when I was born. He’s the oldest of the oldest (my dad’s older sister), and she got married young, and I’m the youngest of the youngest (my dad), who got married late. There you go.

Anyway, back to babies. I love ‘em.

I truly, truly, simply adore them so much. I don’t think I can even describe it. I just feel this connection to them (don’t let your mind make this sentence creepy). My family and friends have decided I have “baby heaven”, which contrary to its literal meaning (=where babies go when they are no longer alive) actually means I look and feel like I’m in heaven when I see babies.

As of now, I have five cousin’s babies (a new one two weeks ago!), but god willing, soon there will be eight. It’s so amazing!!!!! Two of the soon-to-be babies are girls, and the third is as of yet unknown. I can’t wait until they’re born, and we have this whole next generation in our family! Eight babies. That’s a lot. The oldest is… four? So technically she’s not a baby anymore, but still. Also, two of the new ones are meant to be born within a month of each other, so birthdays every year are going to be super cute.

I love babies!!!! I don’t think this is going anywhere. It’s mainly just, I LOVE BABIES.

Oh, I can tell you why I cried, I guess. I was in a bad mood that day, because of how horribly sick I was feeling, and my mom was trying to cheer me up a bit. I had been in school when my cousin, his wife and their two daughters came over, so I wasn’t around when the news was shared. I was alone at home with my mom, and she came and sat down near me on the couch and told me. I got this immediate grin on my face, so wide it hurt my cheeks and jaw terribly, but I couldn’t stop smiling. The two of us were smiling really wide, and then we just started laughing a bit. But instead of laughing a bit more, I started crying. The tears were falling freely. My cat, Squirt, is amazing, and I will tell you why. The second after I start crying, he’s there: it doesn’t matter where in the house I am and he is, if I start crying, he shows up and purrs next to me.

I don’t have a particularly close relationship with him, not like the rest of my family members, but the two of us (me and the cat) have come to terms with this, and we just live amicably side-by-side. He doesn’t sleep on my bed, I don’t sleep on his, but I’ll fill up his food and he won’t scratch me. That kind of thing, you know. But this, the crying dates – they mean a lot to me. Thanks, kitty.

Anywho, I started crying about the new baby, and Squirt came and purred on me. My mom didn’t want me touching my face while I had cat on me, so she brought a tissue and kind of stuck it in the collar of me shirt to collect the tears. I just kept thinking how awesome (in the literal sense awe) it is that my cousin’s wife has a person growing inside her right now, and that in a few months time she and my cousin are going to welcome another beautiful human being into their family. I may only be sixteen, and therefore wholly unready to start a family, but I already know that I have a whole lot of love in my heart, and I’m going to start my own family one day, and love each and every member with the whole of my being.

I can’t wait. I love babies.

The world can be awesome.

Yours truly,

The coolest cousin-ish thing ever,

Ella

 

Song Quote:

I was sixteen with an open heart…. When I was dumb and the world was young.

–Beautiful, Ben Rector

 

 

On a sadder note, the baby that was born two weeks ago was born into hard times. My cousin’s husband’s brother (the baby’s uncle) passed away shortly before she was born. Her middle name is his. I send all of that love that’s in my heart to the family. I can’t even imagine what you all must be going through.

Wake Up Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I am going to wake up, and everything will be different. Better.

When I wake up tomorrow, my first thought will not be about pain. My first emotions will not be anxiety, fear, apprehension and sadness. I will wake up warm, cocooned in my blanket, feeling refreshed. When I open my eyes, I will look forward to my day.

When I wake up tomorrow, I will not be upset with my family. I will not feel like they say the wrong things. I will not be annoyed with them.

When I wake up tomorrow, I will not have to forcefully remind myself to appreciate what I have. Everything will feel so right that appreciation will come naturally. I will look at my life, and be pleased.

When I wake up tomorrow, I will look in the mirror and be happy with what I see. I will not think about how that girl’s hair looks better, how that girl has a better profile, or how that girl’s figure is nicer. That girl will not haunt my mirror-gazing.

When I wake up tomorrow, my day will not scare me. I will not think of each day as an age, each hour as a mountain to climb. I’ll be excited, about the possibilities each hour poses.

When I wake up tomorrow, I will no longer have Fibromyalgia.

These are my tomorrows. I live in today.

When I woke up today, I told myself to think about the dream I had. When I saw my family, I accepted, dealt with, and loved my interactions with them. When I looked at where I live, what I have, and who I know, I willed the appreciation to feel natural. When I looked in the mirror, I smiled. This hour, right now, is full of possibilities.

I have Fibromyalgia.

If I don’t have today, I will never have tomorrow. I welcome you, today.

Yours truly,

Ella

Song Quote:

I awake to find no peace of mind. -Spies, Coldplay

The Question Is Scars

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The question is scars, imprints, and things that last. Sure, life moves on, and our past is behind us, but there is no escape from what has happened to us. Experiences will live with us forever, because I believe e-v-e-r-y-thing makes an impact, no matter the size, on who we become. Which is why no one event is the sole cause of something. There were many things that led to it.

I’ve been thinking about this because of the possibility that I might get better. I’m sick, and as the title will tell you, sick of it. But I might get better, so I try to focus on that. Whenever I think of my future, when I imagine my grown-up self, when I dream up a family, I’m always healthy. I never let myself think about what life would be like if I don’t get better very soon. I don’t let myself think of when I finish high school, how I’ll never be able to date if I’m sick, or how I’ll dance at my wedding with this body of mine, or how I won’t be able to sit on the floor with my kids, or how I won’t be able to show them how to do cartwheels, or….

Whoops.

But really, even if I do get better (/when), will this disease ever really leave me? What scars have my life cut into my heart, that will debilitate me for eternity? Wow, dramatic sentence. Every phase of my life has left me with scars, and has helped shape who I am. But where is the balance, between the scars shaping us, and our personalities shaping us? And really, is there that much of a difference?

I don’t think so. I believe that our scars are what make us who we are. But the same event, happening to two different people, will cause different scars, and ultimately, a different outcome.

I was bullied, starting from age seven, and because of that (and many other things), I take special care to never hurt anyone’s feelings (because Anyone has an almighty power and if I insult him he’ll kill me). I look out for those who have trouble doing it themselves, and most importantly, I’ve learnt how to take care of myself so I don’t get hurt again. But others who have been in my position have turned to bullying others in return. What does that mean? I don’t know.

That’s why I’ve been wondering, and why I’m writing it down. I feel like I’ve thought this through about 90% of the way, and those ten percent are what is really important and what I haven’t gotten to yet. Writing things down usually helps me figure everything out, but not this time, I guess.

Maybe it just needs more time. It’s not like my scars are ever going to leave me. They stay.

From now on, don’t abandon your scars. The would never abandon you.

Yours truly,

Ella

Song quote:

You’re still written in the scars on my heart. -Just Give Me A Reason, Pink ft. Nate Ruess

The Little Things

balloons against sunset

I like writing g’s, because it’s fun. I like bobby pins, balloons, stools, mug handles and zippers. I like honesty, erasers, flags, glue, furniture, faucets, blankets, railings, calculators and magnets.

I like the little things. Only recently have I been able to curate such joy from all of these, and it’s a good thing I have. I’ve been having a hard time, with a lot on my plate. Too much. It’s like when you’re at a brunch, and there are so many good foods that you just take a bunch of everything, but your plate is way too small to hold it all. As much as I try, after piling it high, there simply isn’t any more room for those five pastries and two apples I want as well. No more room.

But then, if I’m going to continue this ridiculous metaphor, I suddenly realize how beautiful it is that apples are juicy, and that the pastry I’m stuffing in my mouth was just dough a few hours ago. I see the stool in the corner, the blanket over the couch, and the mug handle I’m be holding. I’m just so filled with glee that I don’t notice that everything on my plate has just fallen on the floor and is now sticking to it, thanks to the glue I spilled earlier.

FIN metaphor.

What I’m trying to say is, maybe my days will look brighter now that I’m seeing the positive light. That was a pretty sentence. Maybe, this is what I need in order to start coping with everything going on: a little appreciation of the underlying particles of my day.

A few posts ago, I talked about “big thinking moments”, when I realize how big the world is and I have really deep moments. Maybe writing g’s plays into that somehow. You know, that whole “big things are made up of small pieces” talk that I wish I had gotten as a kid, but that I now give myself daily.

Living with Fibromyalgia, a chronic pain illness, you sort of start to realize that if you don’t appreciate the small things you have, you won’t have all that much to appreciate. And that sucks.

So now, I enjoy zipping up my jeans, and I smile at my faucets.  I decorated the entire girls bathroom (at school) with Winnie the Pooh stickers, because maybe that can make someone else smile. I’ve started bringing extra forks with me, so every day, I’m someone else’s hero (because I give them the gift of food. Well, the gift of being able to eat their food. Same silver).

All of these, make me feel that maybe I can live with Fibromyalgia, and maybe I will make it out okay.

Huzzah for the little things.

Yours truly,

Ella

Song Quote:

The world looks better through your eyes. –Firefly, Ed Sheeran

P.s. Just checked, the post about “big thinking moments” was I Am Effervescent.

Ready For a Zombie Apocalypse

You heard me. I’m ready. I have a bunch of vegan and vegetarian friends, there is food hidden all around my room, and my sisters recently counted how many bathtubs and sinks we have and came to the same conclusion I have: we’re ready.

 

Which is not to say we believe in such things. We’re just ready. Better safe than sorry.

 

Okay, obviously I’m kidding. Although everything I have said is true. The friends, the food, the bathtubs- all real. I’m writing this because I only just realized that zombie apocalypses have been a sub-theme of my past few days. Probably because I have been thinking about our worst fears.

 

Are they destined to come true? Because two major ones of mine have.

 

One thing I have been afraid of ever since my sister got sick has been getting Fibromyalgia. Check that off the list people. I was diagnosed with it this summer.

 

Another has been cancer. Put half a check on the list. The growth was around before I was diagnosed with Fibro, but the results of the second biopsy came after. Half a check because it seems like now everything is fine, after the surgery to remove it.

 

My point is, if two core fears of mine have come true in the past nine months, will all of them come true? I watched a documentary portraying a woman who lived her entire life in fear that a man with a knife would break into her house, and then one day it happened. So thinking beyond the fact that I have to stop watching weird documentaries (there are awesome ones about gypsies too), maybe our fears are meant to warn us about what’s going to happen?

If that’s true, I’m in for the long haul.

 

I try not to live my life in fear of anything. When I break that personal policy, it’s to contemplate how awful it would be to lose another family member. But night after night, this idea about fears keeps haunting me: are they going to come true?

 

I’ve had enough suffering in my life, and I’m nowhere near even being an adult. I like to think that maybe I’m getting my suffering over with now, so that when I’m older, I can be more free. If not that positive outlook, then maybe there is just so much suffering planned for my life, that I was done the favor of having it spread out over my entire existence so that it never becomes too much?

 

Deep thoughts such as these are what keeps me up at night. These, and worrying that my non-existent pink piggy bank will be broken into in sleep, worrying that the sun will fall (what would happen…), worrying that I will get a stain on the rug of the family I babysit for (that rug if freakin’ pristine), and worrying that my apple might get depressed. I’m versatile.

I’m going to end this late night rant with one thought- if fears aren’t meant to be foreshadowing our futures, do they do us more bad than good?

Dream happy dreams,

Ella

 

P.s. Starting to see the source of the ‘tired’ in my name?

Song quote:

But it’s harder than you think telling dreams from one another. – Daniel In The Den, Bastille

thinking by Luis Alves

I Am Effervescent

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Every now and then, despite everything that is going on and all of the hardships, I have these moments where my thinking becomes big. By big, I mean I think beyond whatever is going on in that moment. I think about how incredible society is, even the fact that it exists. I think about what the point of life is, why we’re here. I think about the little things of life that I love more than anything. But most of all, during my big thoughts moments, I think about the positive of my world.

 

I have an internal list of the nicest things people have said about/to me. My mother told me the other day that “to know you is to love you”. A family friend told my mom that when she thinks of me she “thinks effervescent”. My father tells me that “your kids are going to be so fortunate to have you as a mother”. All of these things, that take people seconds to say, stick with me, forever. For the better and for the worse. But with my mood right now, it’s for the better.  I love it when I feel like this.

 

My friend has this huge jar sitting on her desk. Every day, she writes down something nice that happened to her and puts it in the jar. As opposed to me, where every night, as I try to fall asleep, every bad aspect of my day comes to haunt me.

 

I feel like every person is born half blind. We have to spend our entire lives training ourselves to use the other half available to us. We need to learn how to see the little things that are so incredible, I can’t even write them down. You’ll have to feel them for yourself. When you do, suddenly everything around you will have this sort of… buffer. This buffer lets me be in a good mood even though I’m having a hard day physically. This buffer is letting me write even though I want to lie in bed. This buffer is… the other half.

 

Moods go up and down, but buffers don’t. Find yours.

 

Good luck,

Ella

 

Song quote: (You’ll get two today! The words always meld together for me, and these two compete each other)

 

“It’s harder than you think, to delay this sadness that creeps up my spine, and haunts me through the night”- These Streets, Paolo Nutini

 

“How am I gonna be an optimist about this?”- Pompeii, Bastille

Sick and Sick of It

I miss the old me. I miss the me who could stand for more than three minutes, slice her own food, dance for three hours straight, and who could laugh without feeling pain. I’m letting myself say this: I really miss that girl.

 

Sadly, she’s no longer with us.

 

This is the new me: I have fibromyalgia. It has been defining me without my permission.

 

Fibromyalgia has become more than just my disease; it is my way of life. No matter where I turn, it stops me. I have to take it into consideration, because if I don’t, there are consequences. It trumps everything else in my life. I once described it to my friend as “a scared infant with serious abandonment issues”. If for even one second I manage to enjoy myself and forget it’s presence, it makes sure that I know it’s still there.

 

On August 8th, 2012, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I sat in a waiting room next to a boy with Cerebral Palsy, a smiling little girl whose mother was crying the entire time, and my mother (while my dad worked out insurance details). It was the first time the truth looked me in the face with a smug smirk. It was the first time I allowed myself to wonder what my life would look like when I walked out of the hospital. It was the first time I realized that I would never be a normal girl again.

 

Now I know that when something bad happens to a person, all they want is to go back to where they were before it happened. I think that with hardships, we tend to warp whatever was before into an amazing place we want more than anything. But was it really always that great? Ever since that fateful Wednesday, all I’ve wanted is to go back to the time before my fate was sealed. But today… today I have really felt, for the first time, that there’s no point going back. If I really wanted to go back to a time when I was happy, I would have to go back to age 7, before my family moved to other side of the world and life itself became one big hardship. Looking back, pretty much since then it’s been one thing after another… it just seems like a lot of bad stuff has been coming my way.

 

So considering that, do I really still long for what things were like before I was diagnosed? It wasn’t really all that great. Neither is now. All I can really hope for is that my future is better. I have learned not to tempt fate, never to say “from rock bottom you can only go up”, because I have discovered there are things more bottom than rocks. Like mud. And snakes. And bugs. I really don’t like bugs.

 

I can’t change my past. My attempts to change the present aren’t proving fruitful. And what do I know about my future? What if I find out that for the rest of my life I will be longing for what I have right now? I’m laughing at that thought, in the dead hollow that seems to be my inside, because why would I ever yearn for this nightmare? But who knows. I just hope I don’t.

It’s hard to express my hopes for a brighter future, because when I say them out loud to another person, the crippling thought of “what if I’m still sick? What if by that point, I can’t get out of bed?” comes back to me and I shut up.

 

But to you, I will express these. Here, on this blog, I will write down my thoughts and my hopes for the future. I love writing, and everyone has told me that I have a future in it too. I have a lot of things to say, and I have written a lot of them down. And now I have a place to post them.

If you have any questions for me, feel free to ask them. If you have words of encouragement, I would love to hear them. If you have judgments to pass, remember that if you don’t have anything nice to say, you shouldn’t say anything at all. I don’t need any more bullies.

Hope to here from you soon,

Be kind,

Ella

Song that’s stuck in my head and magically goes really well with what I’ve written:

“Believe I’ve got high hopes… But the world keeps spinning around.” ~High Hopes, Kodaline