Friday, May 27, 2011


I never finished the book "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert.
I'm not sure why but I think I made it through Italy and most of the way through India...but I never quite got past Indonesia.
Well the other night, I was flipping through the pages and came upon this passage:

The context is that the writer is in Rome and suffering from a serious episode of Depression and Loneliness and she is having a conversation with herself. This is where she realizes she can be her own friend and that even though she isn't surrounded by the familiar or the comforting, she has herself.

I don't know where I am going with this blog entry. Maybe I am just jealous of her and the fact that she can love herself like that. Probably because most days, I am my own worst enemy.

Frisky Friday - Grass

But just a little. ;)

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Frisky Friday - Thoughts

Just thought you should know.

[And yes. I am perfectly aware it is Tuesday.] ;)

Monday, May 23, 2011

I'll be okay.

Hello darlings.
I want to thank all of you for the outpouring of love and support I have received. I think that I had things pent up for a while now and they just finally came out.

Thinking about it today, I realized that I have much higher standards for myself than I do for any of my friends or the people I love. If they have a problem, they need time to process it, grieve if need be, learn from it, and then to heal.
But if I have a problem, I need to get over it. Like, yesterday. I don't allow myself the opportunity to let things out because I think that I have to be "the strong one" all the time.

I promise I will try to be nicer to myself.
And I should probably look into seeing a therapist, and maybe even have my doctor increase my dose of Wellbutrin.

[& I wanted to give a special thanks to NP Odyssey and Pollyanna. I could seriously kiss both of you right now. Absolutely ♥ ya'll. Thank you.]

Sunday, May 22, 2011


I just graduated nursing school.
I just did something that hundreds, if not thousands of people across the country dream of.
And yet, I am not happy.

I should be happy. I should be over-the-goddamn-moon happy. I should be first-kiss, dancing-in-the-rain, cuddling-with-a-puppy, chocolate-chip-pancakes-on-a-Saturday-morning happy about this.
But instead, I don't feel anything.
Actually, no. That's a lie.
When I am not feeling completely and totally empty about the whole experience, all I can think about is how meaningless it all seems without my dad being here.

I am not okay, my lovely readers.
I have never been okay.
I'm a liar. And a hypocrite.
And I am really fucking depressed.

I know that I am loved. And that I would be missed if *something* were to happen to me. I know that I have people who care about me. It is strange how I spend most of my psych nursing rotation talking to depressed and suicidal patients about how beautiful life can be.
I am such a fucking fraud.

I am just not sure how much longer I can stand this. It hurts. Like physically hurts. I don't want to see anyone and I am avoiding phone calls. Two of my closest friends got married yesterday and I skipped the wedding because I hated the thought of the dark cloud following me to the ceremony. All I want to do is shut the world out right now. I know that one day this pain will make sense. I know that it will be useful to me somehow, just as it has been in the past. But I just hate it so much.

The very first sentence in my psych nursing textbook in the chapter on depression reads: "No amount of information can adequately convey the personal pain and suffering experienced by the individual with depression."
So there is no way to accurately explain it. You can't understand unless you have lived it.
It's like being dropped into the middle of a maze and someone shutting off the lights. All you can do is run your hands along the walls to try to find your way out.
It's like you are drowning but you are only a few inches below the water's surface.
It's like there is a tiny drop of poison in a bubble in your heart. You could be content, happy even. But that little bubble is still there and all it takes is for a hiccup to cause it to burst and the poison starts pumping through your veins. It spreads through your heart, and to your lungs, and to your brain. It's like a cancer. And it is a fight you won't win. Because day after day, the poison keeps spreading until eventually you don't have blood in your veins anymore. All you have is the poison. And it is just so exhausting trying to fight it. And you know that one day, your heart will say enough is enough and decide to stop beating as to no longer pump the poison.

Mad Girl's Love Song

Not even my lovely Sylvia can make me feel any better. This might be more serious than I thought.
[By the way, I am in love with this poem. Couldn't even begin to tell you why.]

Thursday, May 19, 2011

New blog?

So I am thinking of creating a new blog.
I want to take my *Estelle's Guide to Nursing School* posts, "clean them up" a bit [aka remove all the naughty bits], and post them to a separate site designed specifically for nursing students.

Now before you say, "Oh wow. That is so sweet of you, Estelle," I am doing this for purely selfish reasons.

I didn't work while I was in nursing school [not exactly true...worked as a CNA in a nursing home for about two months but I don't include that because I left on bad terms]. So I don't have much on my resume in the way of healthcare experience and I need something to make me stand out from all the other nursing students. I think this might be a good idea.

What do ya'll think?

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Something I Never Though I Would Have to Say

I was talking with friend recently about how odd it was to think of her as a mother.
Even though she is almost 10 years older than me with two kids, it is still strange when I see her at her home "being mommy"...especially when the weekend before I saw her downing shots of Patron and helping me kick some ass in a game of pool against two guys who thought they had it in the bag.

Anyway, I am getting sidetracked.

She said that even she thought it was bizarre that she is a mom. And that she often found herself saying things to her kids that she never thought she would say in her life.
Things like "Don't bite the cat" or "Stop licking the wall. It tastes nothing like snozberries."

Well, dear readers, today I find myself saying something that I never imagined I would have to spell out.

PLEASE, for the love of God, do not email me or text me photos of your rashes.
Or your funky looking moles.
Or your questionable [possibly syphilis?] lesions.

I give ya'll a lot of credit. None of you have done this to me.
And yes. While I have had someone describe a rash to me over the phone, no one had ever sent photos before. o_O

Since graduation on Saturday, apparently word has gotten out to my younger brother's friends that I am now 'officially' a nurse [trying to explain to them that, no, I am not a nurse yet, doesn't work]. I already knew more than any of my classmates about splinting fractures and stabilizing strains because of them. They are all skateboarders...or BMXers...or they get high and do stupid shit like fall out of trees.
I just don't ever want to hear "Um...does this look contagious to you?" again. And if I do, I want to be getting paid for it.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Computer Drama

So, if you read my post last night, you saw I was (and still am) having a bit of trouble with my dear laptop. My files [photos, music, videos] are all floating aimlessly around inside my hard drive and I have no idea where to find them or how to access them.

On the positive side of things, I can still listen to my music and access the Internet so I can still put in job applications.
If any of you have any major connections to hospitals in south Louisiana (preferably the capital city area), I would love to hear from you [estelledarling{at}gmail{dot}com]. It seems like the only way new graduates are getting hired around here is if they already have an "in" [teching, CNAs, etc] or if they know someone in management or HR.


So i was in the middle of redesigning this blog when the hard drive on my lap top decided it didnt love me anymore and failed.

The are five critical errors that my system manager thing failed to fix. And I have no idea what to do.

It says...
read time of hard drive clusters less than 500ms
30 percent of hhd space is unreadable
bad sectors on hard drive or damaged allocation table
boot sector of the hard drive is damaged
hard drive does not respond to system commands

The crazy thing is that I can still open and play music on iTunes but I dont have access to any of the music files.
I also tried to do a system recover or restore but I dont even have access to the accessories tab when i click on the start button so i couldnt click on restore and even if I did I don't think that would fix the problem because something is wrong with the hard drive.
so if any of my super smart readers out there have any idea what i am suppose to do about this...i would love your help. By the way...i have windows 7.

Take care, darlings.

Friday, May 13, 2011

It's Over.

Over the past week:
I was pinned.
I made a nursing instructor cry.
I turned 23.
I took (and passed) my final exam.
I graduated nursing school.

I really don't know what to say. Tomorrow, I walk in my graduation ceremony. I'll write more after that.
Thank you all for being there for me. ♥

Also, I found this quote. Love it.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Unanswered Questions.

My last entries prompted a few of my dear readers to ask a few questions about some of the goings-on in my life lately. I suppose how I addressed the situations was a little vague and does warrant a little more detailed response.

So here we are, darlings. Hope this answer helps. ♥

The Doctor's Appointment:
On the April 13, I had a doctor's appointment with an endocrinologist. I first saw her about two years ago because my primary care doc found a small nodule on my thyroid...and that was the last time I saw her. Between the time demands of school and just life in general, I always seemed to cancel my appointments. Well, I actually went this time.
After she palpated my thyroid (which felt like she was trying to choke me), she sat down and looked me in the eye (always a bad sign).
Doc: "Estelle, that nodule is noticeably bigger than it was two years ago."
Estelle: "Well...that's not good."
Doc: "I think it might be time to start thinking about a biopsy."
Estelle: "Ha. I'm sorry, Doc. I thought for a moment there you said biopsy."
Doc: "..."
Estelle: "Oh, shit."

She scheduled the biopsy for April 22, which gave me a week and a half to stress over this (when I should have been writing papers). And medical knowledge really isn't comforting when it is you on the other side of the stethoscope.

Never mind that most nodules are just that...nodules….just little over growths of harmless tissue.
Never mind that if a nodule is cancerous, the chances of it being malignant are somewhere between slim and none.
Never mind that if the cancerous nodule is malignant, the survival and cure rates are like 99.9999%

Nope. The only thing you notice is that if the nodule is painless and the patient is under 30, the chances of it being malignant go up.
So yeah. I really didn't sleep during this week. At least no more than two or three hours at a time. Which caused me to be super moody and snappy at everyone (leading to the drama with the honey...but we'll get to that later).

A fine needle aspiration is when a very tiny needle (a 25g...smaller than the kind used to draw blood) guided by an ultrasound into the suspicious tissue to collect cells. This is done five or six times to insure that enough cells are collected in order for a pathologist to study them. Did I mention this is all done without the use of anesthetic of any kind? But according to the doc, she “makes the skin cold to trick the brain into not feeling it”. Wow, yeah, okay. I am sure than can of air duster you have is really going to help me in this situation.
And honestly, I really don't care how small the needle is. I don't want someone to stab me in the throat with one.

So on the 22nd (Good Friday), Mother Dearest and I got in the car and drove to the clinic where the test was being preformed. I, having spent most of the night curled in a ball crying, took enough Xanax that morning to where I really didn't care whether they cut my throat open and took the whole thyroid out.

They called me in the back where I met the ultrasound tech, a really sweet older lady who kind of reminded me of a bird with her short, silver hair and crazy earrings. I am also sure she was the same woman who did the original ultrasound of my thyroid two years before.

She explained the procedure and got me settled on the table with a wedge under my knees and a pillow under my shoulders so that my back was slightly arched and she had better access to my throat.
The doctor had reminded me to wear a low cut top so that they didn't get any skin prep or ultrasound jelly on my clothes. I kind of laughed at this...because pretty much every top I own is low cut. Ha.
The tech started doing her thing. After a few minutes, she stopped and said she had to go check on the previous scans. A short while later, the doctor walked in.
They talked for a few moments as the tech started to ultrasound again. All the while, I am just chilling on the table, thinking how soothing their voices sound. I am pretty sure the Xanax took effect by the point.
Bit of their conversation stood out through my pharmacological-induced fog. "Not sure....this side, right?.....not seeing, it just isn't there...."

That is right, ladies and gentlemen. After a week and a half of basically losing my damn mind worrying over this...the nodule wasn't even there.
It's a miracle!
And of course, I went home and had a very long nap. ;)

The Broken Friendship:
I really don't know how to tell this story. I mean, I know what happened and what i want to say but I don't know how to say it. Plus, I am being very careful about what I say because I know for a fact that he knows about this blog. :-/

So I guess I'll just write and see where this goes...
I am sure most of you remember me telling you about how much I love Twitter and how there is a huge group of nursing students on there. They are amazing. Supportive, sweet, caring. I have actually made friends with several of them to the point of adding them on Facebook.
Well, there was one follower that I got close to. We had quite a few late conversations that ended up going places that they never should have gone. I blame myself for this. I think something about me puts people at ease and it lets them open up to me about things they would never share with other people under normal circumstances.
Things were said that should not have been said. Especially from a married pastor to a girl with a boyfriend. I decided it was time to put an end to it before it went any farther and anything else that he (or I) would regret was said or done.
That evening, I unfriended him on Facebook, unfollowed him on Twitter, and even ended our Words With Friends game. I honestly didn't think he would notice. I mean, why would he? It's just the Internet, right?
Because I was exhausted (hadn't been sleeping, remember?), I fell asleep for about an hour. Well in that hour, he noticed. I woke up to a friend request and a few Facebook messages, as well as several emails to my personal account, and a message sent via Words With Friends. There were also numerous references to this on his personal Twitter page.

I was a little shocked. I didn't know what to say so I told him I was sorry and that it wasn't his fault. I haven't contacted him since despite several attempts by him to get in touch with me (even going so far as to ask several mutual friends what was going on since I had locked my Twitter account…something I think that was completely out of line for him to do and made me feel like I owed these girls apologizes for him feeling it was necessary to drag them into the middle of our personal business).
I am hoping he just forgets about me. I don't want to start an argument over why I ended our friendship but I am afraid that if I were to respond to him, it would end in a screaming match.
Some of the things he has said to me in his emails were just uncalled for...and even cruel. To tell me, "You, though, have broken my heart and have not acted like the healer I know you are" is a low blow and one that I believe was designed specifically to get a rise out of me and force a response. But I refuse to play that game.
But, I will say, that hurt a lot more than I wanted to admit.
Part of what bothers me about this is that fact that the people who knew and followed both of us only heard his side of the story. Basically, that I befriended him and then suddenly and without provocation, dropped him like a bad habit. So in the end, he came out smelling like roses while I am the cold, callous, heartbreaking bitch. Oh well. Such is life.

The Honey Drama:
Ahh. Not really sure what to say about this either but here goes.
The Mr. and I are in a long distance relationship for now and have been for the past few months. I have never been a part of one of those before and, to be frank about it, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I never expected that I would care about him as much as I do or that I would fall for him as hard as I did. And the fact that he is so far away makes it all the more difficult.

I really don’t remember what the argument was about and I am not sure it even matters.
We’ve gotten into several arguments over the past few weeks…mostly stemming from the fact that I don’t like to say what is on my mind and I let things simmer beneath the surface until it becomes obvious that something is very wrong even when it started as just a small issue that could have been handled easily if I had brought it up earlier. Because, apparently, the boy isn’t a mind reader. Shocking, I know.

I mean, he can be cold and distant at times too so I am by no means saying he is perfect. But even though he isn’t perfect, he is right for me. I feel it. He puts up with my flaws and even loves me for them. My craziness and panic and my constant pushing him away in the beginning and giving him “outs”…basically telling him over and over again “Here’s your chance. No one would blame you if you left. Least of all me”. He put up with all of it. I really can’t think of another man who would have (or, hell, even could have) done that.

A few days ago, he said something that shocked me…even more than the first time he told me he loved me. “I worry about you. You aren’t alone anymore.” I didn’t say anything to him about it at the time but that little phrase, as simple as it seems, made me shed a tear. I believe him. I’m not alone anymore. And as hard as I fought in the beginning to keep myself from falling in love with him, I want to fight even harder to make this work.

Friday, May 06, 2011

Still here.

I just wanted to write ya'll a short note to say that i am still here.
I'm so sorry I haven't been posting or commenting, my loves. I've just been terribly busy.

Things are happening. Exciting things. And I can't wait to tell you all about them.