Category Archives: Deep Thoughts
You Ought to Be in Pictures
Confidence Boost
As a self-
professed and unabashed “Book Geek” I admit that I find myself usually most comfortable and passionate when speaking about books, otherwise I find I am severely lacking self-confidence or self-assurance, and grapple with being a severe introvert. Dealing with most social situations always revs up my anxiety level to unprecedented levels. Worry overtakes me, and I find any relaxation, or enjoyment, hard to muster. It isn’t so much that I dislike being in a social situation, it is more that my concerns and insecurities far outweigh any ease I try to feign. I do a little better one on one, but when surrounded by a larger group, it isn’t pretty. It is an unease of how to fit in, where to place myself, what to contribute that hinders my bravery. Oh, certainly the adage of “be yourself” comes to mind, but it is hard advice when you fear people won’t like the “yourself” you are. There are people I see so at ease when sharing with a group, leading a group, etc. and I envy that.
In my bookclub I recently had to take the reigns in our discussion and felt pretty useless, even though it was about a book. I am far better at sharing my thoughts about the current book when I don’t have to worry about leading, otherwise I am a bundle of nerves. Even when I am just sharing I am questioning myself; am I talking too much, making an absurd point, being rude! Recently, when I went to hang out at a good friend and fellow blogger KitchenKM’s game night, relaxing wasn’t so easy, especially early on. I felt awkward and kind of clammed up. Then as we played the game, I think I got kind of snippy when I had to be silly in the game that was meant to be fun and easy going. I feel like a pretty uncoordinated and unimpressive figure to begin with, and acting silly or uninhibited just makes that even worse for me, even when it should be fun or lighthearted. Overall I had fun, but I know I wasn’t at my best or socially graceful. It is a constant battle between wanting to be accepted and be more social, and a fear of failing and just not measuring up or fitting in. These thoughts are hard to ignore, it is just a given that I will be nervous, clumsy, and awkward. Confidence never has been, and most likely never will be my strong suit, I just can’t seem to find my size.
K
Expectations of Thirtysomethings
As I endure celebrate another birthday in what I am affectionately calling “The Dirty 30s” I realize the expectations placed on a woman in her 30s. As an unmarried, unattached woman of a certain age I do face particular expectations from people. It sometimes feels I am expected to be married with children and living a certain life. That is all well and good, but my life hasn’t taken that path for whatever reason, and I am becoming increasingly okay with that. I am making the most of my life, it is my life to live after all. I sadly have been hard on myself when I feel I am not measuring up, and that is something I resolve to stop. Comparing myself to others is only going to frustrate me, and letting others dictate the lens I view myself through is an exercise in futility. Are there things I wish I could make different, yes, but I can’t dwell on what isn’t, it is embracing what is that is what is important and the best way to live. So as I settle in with another candle on the birthday cake, that is adding more and more candles too fast now for my taste, I am learning to be okay with who I am and where I am at, no matter what anyone else wants or expects of me. So it is with great fanfare I wish myself a Happy Birthday in my Dirty 30s ;0)
K
Turner Point
When I was about 11 years old I got sick with a bad cold or flu. At the same time I had also developed a goiter. My eyes protruded and my neck had a tire like bulge. The doctor ran some tests and we discovered I had a thyroid condition. It would require daily medication and was easy enough to treat. However, I also wasn’t growing. At the time I was hovering well below 5′, despite my parents being taller than average. My dad is 6′ and my mom is 5’8″. Further tests lead to a more devastating diagnosis of Turner Syndrome (TS). Essentially I was born missing one of the two X chromosomes every girl and woman has. This leads to short stature, infertility, and a variety of other possible complications. This is a rare condition affecting 1 out of 2,000 to 5,000 female births, and only about 1% to 2% of embryos with this condition are actually born. With this diagnosis my life became a regular series of doctors appointments as I was growing up. I was placed on a protocol by my specialist, and as her oldest patient I was a test subject for her as well. This protocol consisted of Human Growth Hormone (HGH) and Estrogen Replacement Therapy. I had a sonogram of my kidneys to make sure they were formed correctly. I regularly got x-rays to see how my bones were fusing. This was certainly a difficult thing to face during adolescence, when a child may already feel different, to have a genetic test confirm, indeed you are quite different. I could get angry at God for giving me this to deal with, but I never have. I have the sense that I am lucky to have been given the life I was, despite it’s imperfections. It is part of my life, and something I have to deal with on a regular basis. I will never have a child of my own, and can only get pregnant using a donor egg and IVF. Adoption is something I have tossed around, and the idea of giving a child a home and family that needs one seems to be the route I would feel comfortable taking. Why try to crate a child when I would face a more than risky pregnancy, why not find that child who needs me? I feel that might be my purpose if I am to become a mother. I am at risk for heart issues, diabetes, eye problems, osteoporosis, hearing loss, just to name a few. Since there are limited women and girls with this condition to study, it isn’t easy for doctors to know with certainty what issues a TS patient will face as they age. I did reports on the condition in school to learn more, and had for a time thought I wanted to go into the field of medicine specializing in this and similar conditions. My hope was to give assistance to others facing what I had faced. Although I realized quickly my squeamishness would not be conducive to a career in medicine. Besides and physical issues, there are the psychological issues that go with a genetic condition. Dealing with infertility from such a young age is not easy. It certainly sets a TS teenage girl apart from her peers. Feeling like you don’t quite measure up to society standards is never an easy thing to deal with, and knowing how you don’t measure up doesn’t make it any more palatable. It isn’t that TS makes a girl or woman masculine, but you certainly don’t feel like you are quite an average woman. It is hard to feel like you can be accepted for who you are, when you feel so apart from the average. Fortunately I am taller than the average TS woman, although this brings me to the conundrum of sharing TS with them, but somehow being different from them. I feel that I can’t even fit in with TS right somehow, because I tower over them, so sometimes I feel where do I really fit in? Where can I be accepted? Hard things to wrap my head around. Yes, every woman has her body issues, but this condition is so linked to your womanhood, accepting yourself is not without difficulty. This diagnosis may not have been the most devastating by some standards, but it certainly changed how my life would play out. I have faced unique challenges, and will most likely continue to do so for the rest of my life.
K
Where were you on 09/11/01 . . .
I was heading to the University of Tampa for class and work. Heard about the first plane on sports talk radio that my Dad had on. No one was fully aware it was an attack at that level yet. Class of course was cancelled, and my mind was reeling as I learned a second plane had hit. In the Honors Program Lounge a group of us watched the TV coverage, I felt like I was watching disaster movie and not real life. Later in the Dean’s Office where I worked I just sat there numb and in horrified disbelief, and again witnessed more TV coverage when they brought in a small TV. I just sat there shuffling papers, really not knowing what to do with myself and unable to focus on much. When I got home my Dad and I continued watching the coverage, it was just something I couldn’t shake myself from at that point. My Mom got home later that night and we watched President Bush address the nation. I went to bed feeling the shock, disbelief, fear, anger, etc. I am sure the whole nation felt that day. Essentially, I remember feeling numb and disconnected somewhat that whole day, as if I wasn’t watching or a part of this real horrific event, it was too shocking and too unbelievable to think it was actually happening. And now as I reflect ten years later on 9/11/11, I still recall that numbness, shock, anger, etc. like it was yesterday. Never forget and God Bless America!!
K
Perfection With a Dash of Impatience
It is an odd thing to realize something unusual about my character and personality, I am a perfectionist who is partially extremely impatient. I find it hysterical that I have a mix of needing things to be just so, that is perfect, while being unable to be patient with things. Take for example when I go to a place to paint paint-it-yourself pottery, I am all ready to paint something beautiful and fancy, but then get to the actual painting and just want to get it done, all the while wanting it to look as nice spectacular as the displayed items in the studio. I race through for the most part and then get results that most would think are probably passable for decent, and think, never again, this looks like a child did it. I try to overcome this, but find it hard to say, take your time and do it well, no, I want to do it well without time or effort. I like to be good at things for sure, but never wanting to actually have to be slow and methodical about it. Why I end up stressing myself about all this is a mystery, it is not like I am really ever being judged more harshly by anyone but myself and my own perfectionist mentality. It is truly an exhausting mind I have, but I suppose there is worse. I find carefree and lackadaisical to be rather frustrating to cope with in others. I suppose Type A and Type B are meant to balance out each other in this world :0)
K
krissyandthecity 