My fuzz balls are back in the US with my brothers. I miss them so much. Didn’t matter they weren’t in my bed, I woke up all scruched up against the wall.
I think when I get to Hong Kong and get a bit of money saved (apartments are horribly expensive – no eating out for me unless it’s like the buck sushi rolls I can get in Korea) I’m going to get a cat. I don’t think I want another kitten. I’m hoping to find a animal shelter. Maybe I’ll foster so I don’t have to worry about bringing another cat home or maybe I’ll adopt. If I could find a black turkish angora I’d be in heaven. I’d name him/her Ebony. Then I’d have Ebony and Ivory (love that song).
Consider it a detox. Something in either the psych or fibo meds is making it nearly impossible to eat. I know nausea goes with the fibro, but I won’t know until I try.
At the moment I’m OK. Well, sort of. My asshole ex boss screwed me by not telling me she wasn’t paying my health insurance premiums out of the money she owed me. So all of February, the hospital and doctors were charging me insured rates. So now I owe a bunch of people money. Thankfully my father is sending money and I’ll pay him back out of my pension. I think he feels guilty. So I’m overwhelmed with all this and figuring out what and how to pack.
This may be my last post.
When I have to make a decision to make, I make a list.
I’m making of list of whether to go on, or to give up.
The face in the mirror (both physical and mental) is obviously distorted. I got my recommendation letter from my old old boss this evening. I laughed aloud when I read it. I mean no disrespect to C, but the way she saw me is not the way I saw myself. I remember this happening once before when getting letters for grad school. Even though I checked the box on the form waiving my right to read them, every single one of my professors put a copy in my hand and said read it, but not now. When you’re home. I laughed myself silly. How could these people that I respected, and even worked with on research think this way of me.
I thought I had put that behind me. I thought I had grown a bit of self esteem. But all I can think is who is this letter about? Can’t be me. I’m just you’re average everyday run of the mill teacher. There’s nothing excellent or outstanding about it. Part of me wants to edit it to make it reflect the real me. But at the moment, I don’t know who the real me is. Is the woman in the letter or is the woman I look at in the mirror every day?
Speaking of which, I do see changes, especially with the dental work. But I wouldn’t describe myself as pretty. It always bugged me when my last boss pointed out I had a pretty face. Or, pretty by Korean standards (pale skin and blue eyes). I printed out one of my hanbok pictures and gave it to my dentist because it’s the first picture I’m smiling in. He and his wife think I look like Renee Zellweger. I don’t know what to think.
All I know is I was at the dentist 3 hours today and the Novocaine is wearing off leaving my mouth and body screaming in pain (yay for sunny and 55 to 40 and rainy overnight). My dentist loaned me a Robin Cook book that I haven’t read yet (Chromosome 6) so I’m going to climb in bed with two fuzzy body warmers.