Lifelines covered in Cheeto Dust..

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I hate the health system in this country.

The current political atmosphere (and the Executive Orders signed by the Cheeto-In-Command), is already starting to hurt a lot of people who need affordable health care: the poor, the disabled, the sick and the elderly.

Bad Week

My friend, who needs her medications in order not to be a crying mess, is still fighting Medicaid for her refill. Those medications cost $38 A PILL. Her doctor does not have samples of this medication, so she is trying her best to fight withdrawal symptoms from her medication. I have been in the same situation as her and it is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL AND SCARY. All I can do is comfort her and encourage her to KEEP GOING because she is SO CLOSE TO GRADUATING! I just pray this horrible situation will not trigger a seizure for her.

I dodged a bullet..for now

I discovered I am low on my chill pills, so I checked the pharmacy online to see if I could order them. I was lucky I still have approved refills and that my health insurance has not been a dick to me in terms of pricing. My 30-day supply costs me $4 (for now). With this medication, I feel sadness but its not the same sadness as before: the closest description to this sadness looking at the rain and the sound is muted. Without this medication, the rain would become a mid-day storm, annoying the crap out of me (and everyone around me).  I will be gearing up and continue to keep tabs on my health insurance’s announcements to see the Cheeto-in-Command’s writing will affect our coverage.

 

 

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Why it is hard to take care of extra body parts

<DISCLAIMER: RANT>

Last weekend felt like a huge hangover, combined with embarrassment the minute I stepped outside of my house. Inauguration was depressing so my GF and I headed out to an Anti-Inauguration Party to raise money for Planned Parenthood and the local women’s shelter.

The Cheeto in Command has Spoken!

After excising our Constitutional rights to ridicule/make fun/ disagree over the change of the glorified Executive Clerk, we participated in auctions to raise money for Planned Parenthood. Hell, that organization is as closest to the equivalent of Women’s Health Care Services in Canada.

It does not seem fair to make comparisons but Jesus…it is like steeping into two dimensions: one where women health services are as important as heart disease prevention and the other…well…(results may vary depending on which state you live in).

In Canada, there was an entire FLOOR in the Alberta Health Service Building in Edmonton dedicated to everything: birth control, STD testing, PAP smears. I was fascinated and awe-struck. No protesters in front of the office building trying to block my access to see a OB-GYN with stupid signs of unborn babies. Or Biblical Scripture. Or incessant yelling. And the visits were FREE with the medication REASONABLY PRICED. Just let that sink in…

In the US.. the Planned Parenthood mimics that system: clean, professional but with a few minor inconveniences (see above). That system fills the gap that my old GYN left after she stopped accepting my insurance. After scouring my health-plan’s network for a close-enough replacement (25 miles or less), it came to one doctor: a male GYN.

Pain where? Here?

It may not be fair to discriminate on which health professional should need my business, but I have to be honest: medical care needs empathy. I need to have access to a doctor that has a better chance of understanding PAIN from a particular body part that is not available to all human beings. And if you have ever been to the ER and screamed your head off in pain, all you would get is either “keep it down” or “take two of these and try to keep it down”. Female doctors aren’t exempt from downplaying pain, but knowing they can feel it or have felt pain in particular areas does help improve patient-doctor communication.

So I decided to continue going to Planned Parenthood for that much-needed maintenance for my lady-parts. Because they will accept my insurance and will accept my visits whether I have insurance or not. So far, no regrets. I still owe them A LOT.

 

The Metamorphosis

Headhunted

I got a call from a recruiter from a temp agency I used to work with. The interview went well until I told him I was a full-time student. In this interview, I managed to smile and stay cool. Although I wasn’t chosen for a position, I was glad I was headhunted for one. This setback did not made me feel down or shake-up my abilities as a potential employee. I was actually able to see and accept that I was not what they were looking for at the moment.  The fact that I was able to view this experience in a positive manner is one of the first dramatic changes I am experiencing in the metamorphosis.

Growing Fashion Sense

This is a weird process. Before I felt like I didn’t deserve anything nice or “feminine” until I got a job. But after I have gotten gift cards from my family, I was able to shop and enjoy buying articles of clothing for myself. My tastes are evolving, but there are certain elements I couldn’t shake off, such as the affinity for the color black and skulls:

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This was the best Hot Topic could come up with: White Skull Cardigan

My first nice work flats in ages:

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Michael Kors Ballet Flats in women’s size 🙂

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                   Couldn’t resist this kitty purse! BG® Women Cute Cat Leatherette Crossbody Bag

But other strange habits emerge…

Not wanting to leave my bedroom before taking my medication is starting to become a habit. I wake up feeling all dumpy (in spite of having a good-night’s sleep), develop this fear of facing the day (or anyone) until I take my medication. In order for it to kick in, I have wait 30 minutes or so, then when that dumpy feeling goes away, I leave the room. This is causing me to get a later start in the day, so I am currently training myself to wake up earlier everyday before classes start.

The side effects when the medication kicks in full-swing is making me:

-more hug gable

-actually happy to be alive

-less hungry ( a plus?)

-go fully Julie Andrews on a sunny hill.

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     This wasn’t listed on the list of possible side effects leaflet 😦

Facing people while in this mode is better than when I would face people while on my old self. I would treat people better and vice-versa. The reality of taking medication is sinking in: it is not as much as to treat the illness, but to allow other people around you to 1) tolerate you better and 2) not to get worse, even though some people deserve to be treated horribly due to their actions. “Not getting worse” is as vague of a definition as that blurry line between losing control and having a backbone.

Have any of you gone through a metamorphosis? If so, how long has it lasted?

The Awakening

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It has been a rough semester. My grades weren’t decent and because of that, I had a nervous breakdown. The possibility of losing my financial aid hit me so hard that I was a mess. Cutie helped me come to my senses, and I realized that at my age, I should know better. My mind and body were reacting to a doomsday scenario created by my insecurities and fears. Not doing well wasn’t the end of the world when Cutie (who survived A GODAMMED WAR ZONE) wasn’t worried. More like upset on how I handled a setback. That is when I decided enough was enough.

Hello Doctor
I wasn’t sure if my PCP would prescribe something to help me deal with my anxiety (and the beginning of a relapse of my depression) but he did! Armed with a prescription and getting a new therapist is what gave me the strength to try meeeeeee……dd…..ssss so that I can deal with the crap life gives me without falling apart. My old therapist did not take my concerns about my increased anxiety seriously, which goes to show that you don’t need an MSW to be dismissive.

The Half White Pill
So damn tiny. And since I was flying to visit my family, I thought why the hell not try it out? The first few days on it were weird: I would caffeine crash faster during the day, lose some focus but I was feeling overall mellow and relaxed. I was overjoyed with that feeling. I felt (and still feel) that I can handle whatever crap life gives me. That feeling is liberating because it is the same feeling of hope. And hope is that drive that I need to keep moving on while entering in a tough field. The half of that white pill was put to the test while driving to my parents’ house from the damn airport. The roads were SHITTY (almost busted a tire twice with those potholes) and cursed halfway through rush hour traffic. But I got a grip on the situation and I handled it pretty well, making it to the house exhausted and with an undamaged rental car.

Not looking to get high
I feel as mellow as Tommy Chong (without the weed). My perspective on how I see the same places and people are changing. I can handle my mom’s b.s. better. But half of that white pill does not prevent conflict and I have to keep as alert as possible. Overall, my mood is being content with life in general. Which is something I have spent YEARS searching for. If things don’t work out for me, I could convince Cutie to live in the country somewhere, far away from the assholes in the city. Where its nice and quiet. I think the hippies were on to something.

Rocky Roads Ahead

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Part of the process of changing careers when you are not an impressionable 18-year-old involves a lot of adjustments, especially:

-Steep learning curves

-Getting rejected by recruiters

-Going broke faster

-Less energy to study and learn.

The university I am currently attending has an office that tried to tend to the needs non-traditional students, but misses the mark. This is because the university was not designed for non-traditional students (that is what community college is for). If it weren’t for the fact that there would be a huge pay gap, I wouldn’t have chosen to go to a traditional university. I used Payscale to estimate my market worth between a 4 year degree versus a 2 year degree from a community college. The results were depressing.

All of this is part of the rocky road that lies ahead.

It doesn’t make sense to go through this whole process again unless you want to go back to work. Employers don’t want to spend a lot of money training new employees, so it is up to the potential candidate to train themselves. But it is a game of hit and run where you can guess the market’s needs versus what you can offer. No wonder so many people hate to job hunt ( I also hate the hunt). This is like dating, but you are risking your wallet instead of your heart.

I love computers more.

I work with them longer, trying to learn C++. It is like trying to write a book, but one error and the whole program goes to hell. Mind-bending linguistics that you cannot speak with, is what a programming language is.  The more I try to learn from my professors, the less I trust them. They really CAN’T TEACH ANYTHING and I question why the university should keep these professors. YouTube does a better job than these professors.

Everyone has lost their minds and I am waiting them out

I got invited to go protest the current elections but declined. I did my civic duty and that was the end of it. My priorities, on a-day-to-day basis consisted of survival and school work. I have been living like a student for so long that my views have changed. I am used to being the underdog, the unimportant and ignored that when a bad situation occurs, I have a backup plan in my head. My friends are shocked about this viewpoint, but they know little of how hard life used to be and how hard life is for those who don’t live in the U.S.  I am glad to be alive now than in anytime in history. And living here in the US.

 

 

Reaching for high-rung ladders

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Job hunting in the tech industry sucks.

Seriously, it does.

I went to an open house for this FABULOUS company in town.

I was greeted by the company’s VP. The company was looking for “genius” and “amazing” software developers. The place was open, with WINDOWS that allowed you to see the outside. Open communication was encouraged and so were telecommuting and flexible hours. Small staff with multiple locations.  Then one of the members of their staff showed up.

He was dressed like a bum, wearing gym pants, a t-shirt and a long, untamed beard, greasy hair. His boss told us that was his way of dressing up.  His boss was wearing a company t-shirt, cargo pants and at least his hair and long beard were neat.

Somehow this experience felt self-defeating. You show up with over a $100 worth of makeup on your face, nice clothes, resume in hand and researched the company’s history enough to show the VP that you have done your homework. And all of that gets trumped by whether you can magically conjure code while neglecting personal hygiene. And, if you’re male.

Someday I will get to magically conjure code as fast as humanly possible. But the crap spewed by the career development center at the university is pissing me off. I can’t find the right combination of a) competency and b) not looking like a bag lady, but “cool”. Dying my hair blue or getting  tattoos are out of the question for me. My hair can’t handle that abuse and my skin would flare up (psoriasis).

So for now, I have to stick with wearing my black t-shirts, jeans and bright sneakers and hope I look cool enough to a recruiter to notice. On campus.

 

 

Screaming in the Closet-Rants

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This anxiety thing is starting to mess with my head.

I woke up yesterday wanting to get rid of some of my belongings by donating them to the Salvation Army. I finally did that and I felt so much better.

But after I felt that “release”, every time I looked at my closet, I just wanted to scream. Scream at it because there is so much stuff in there. It is like I have forgotten how much crap I own and the sight of it hits my face, whip-lash style.

I have been getting these “screaming moments” more and more. Cutie has had to convince me for the 11th time that I don’t have a lot of stuff and there is no need to donate anything. He said this is what is called “general anxiety”. Which is a bummer.

None of if makes sense

It doesn’t make sense. I would be fine, then I would see something or be around someone and it would set me off into this “screaming moment”. I already asked my therapist to put in a request for me to see an actual psychiatrist for medication, but she warned me it could take months. It would be quicker for me to go to my General Practitioner and ask for meds, but the danger in that is 1) high possibility of over-medication and 2) high possibility of being prescribed the wrong medication because he is not a specialist. If I wanted to be a medical guinea pig, I can go to the university and sign up as one. At least the university would pay me (sorta?).

The Work Fairy/Luck/Whatever Has Blessed Everyone Except Me

This may sound ridiculous, but there has to be more than luck and hard work that is needed to land a job in this area.

Seriously. A friend of mine got FIRED a month ago because he asked his supervisor why she was being a bitch.  This has happened in spite of him consuming these like Skittles:

zanax

The following month, he decided to enroll in university, then got a job at the university’s bookstore, in spite of last month’s fiasco. In a perfect world, a lack of professionalism and decor would have buried this man’s job prospects in the entire state. But this isn’t a perfect world or even a perfect state. Hell this has happened in spite of living in a state that is allergic to unionization. So he must have blown the Work Fairy for that job because I certainly would not have hired him for anything, in spite of him being a “hard-worker”.

I have been torn between getting a part time job (and risk lowering my GPA) or just to focus on raising my GPA so that I can get an internship somewhere. Whether I can get an internship this semester, it will depend on this year’s career fair.

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