I have a boyfriend. .. of 10 months.

Shocking, yes, I know, as this entire blog was founded on the things that I do when I don’t have a boyfriend, but somehow despite how much we fought it – and we did fight it – it seemed that the universe took my unending fan-affair with Russell Crowe’s character Javert, from the 2012 version of Les Miserables, and the character Lord Castleroy from the CW’s Reign, and combined them into my friend D.  D and I have been friends for over 5 years.  We have tried dating before and though were intrigued by each other it never stuck.  Last October, it stuck, and in January we admitted it to ourselves.  In April, we admitted it to our friends.

But this post is not about him.  No, it’s about the things that my subconscious is spitting out at me, making me look at as I fret about my passport – I’ve only looked at it about a dozen times, all the things I’m bringing there but not back (like soap and shampoo) and the ridiculous urge I have that everything is going to fall apart, and my 2 years of planning my dream vacation in order to see the Fall Equinox at the cairns is going to fall to pieces… along side the new job that I am taking a vacation from, and the stress that goes into that – the 100 emails a day that I need to slam through, and all those healthcare professionals who think that I am somehow their secretary, when I’m not anyone’s secretary anymore and refuse to be treated as such.

This post is about the things that You Tube has helped me realize about myself, where others were unable to get through. Maybe they grew tired of telling me the same things 30x in a row, or maybe I never heard them at all.

You see, I am taking my GRE’s in a month.  Me!  GRE’s.  Growing up, a Master’s degree was what smart people got.  But, my low IQ, and my inability to do math, and my constant struggles to make B’s made it abundantly clear that I was not  graduate student material.  I was told to go to grad school to get my MRS.  And I might – but only because I expect to marry said boyfriend while I’m in grad school. If he and I don’t work out, I’m not planning on dating again.  It’s not something I planned, it’s just something that happened.

But, grad school, I planned.  Starting when the doctors I worked for at my last health system cornered me in the mailroom and asked why I wasn’t going to school for history – for teaching, and I told them the lies that I have been trained to believe my entire life – I wasn’t smart enough.  They didn’t believe me.  They threw their weight, their support behind me.  Doctors – who were faculty – who continue to be at the top of their field, threw their support behind me.  Support that other students and residents would give their left arm for [provided they weren’t surgeons], these doctors – there were 3 … later  5 – gave to me.


I remember calling my mom after work that day, and telling her about the amazing conversation that I had.  That people who were really really smart – people who were intelligent thought that I had what it took to go to graduate school.  And, do you know what she did?

She cried.  But, not for the reasons you might think.  No, she cried as she told me that she thought she had raised a smart daughter, and then pointed out that they’re only making fun of me.  She cried as she told me that I was too stupid to see that they’re teasing me, and that I should just continue on the path of a hated life, but one that more than paid my bills, that I had started on.

Then I cried.  And I called a friend who logicked me out of it.

It was the last time I told my mom when anyone supported me. Ever.

But, I don’t blame my mother.  It was the way she was raised.  She wanted me to be pretty, and make ends meet.  Happy would be good too – but nobody could be happy teaching.  Researching.  I needed to have the “marketable façade.”

I once sent the above video to my mother.  She was so angry… because I wasn’t pretty any of those things.  Period.  She didn’t follow it up with that I was more than just pretty anything, or that I was not contained in 5 letters.  She just said that I wasn’t pretty anything.  And that she was insulted that I thought she thought I was.  Right.



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