It has been a rough day.

I woke up at 4 in the morning with a MASSIVE headache. It was the kind of pain that makes you pause and wonder if the world is ending. The kind of pain that makes it hard to breathe, hard to move. The kind of headache that makes you sit up at 4 in the morning and wonder if you have freaking meningitis. That’s how bad it was.

I managed to shove some pills into my mouth to deal with some of the side effects of the headache (because there’s just nothing that helps the pain) and I attempted to go back to sleep. At best, falling back to sleep would’ve been tough with that amount of pain, but when you add an adorable little cat who really believes that 4 in the morning was the most perfect! time! ever! to eat and in protest of not eating decides to climb in and out and in and out and IN AND OUT of the blinds 20 million times, well, sleep is nearly impossible.

That did not make the day any easier.

Looking at this month, I’m starting to worry. I haven’t had this many bad days in a long time. It doesn’t seem to be related to stress, especially considering my weekends are every bit as bad as my weekdays. It doesn’t seem to be related to difficulty of work because light days are every bit as bad as difficult ones. It doesn’t seem to be related to anything.

But it’s getting worse. It’s getting a lot worse.

The headache I had in the middle of the night last night was the worst headache I’ve ever had that wasn’t the result of a lumbar puncture and subsequent spinal fluid leak. It was terrifying because it came out of no where and awakened me from a dead sleep (again, about having a freaking baby. My subconscious has SUCH issues). Thankfully the pain did go down some and I was able to go to work, but all day I have felt miserable. All morning I felt like puking, and all afternoon I’ve just wanted to sleep. Or cry. Or both.

I don’t know what to do at this point. I don’t know where to go, who to call, what to try. I don’t know how to manage when the pain is like this. I made it through the day today, but it was by far the toughest thing I’ve done in a long time.

I can’t keep doing this. For the first time in a while, I’m genuinely scared of tomorrow.

To my very core, I’m terrified of that pain, of this pain. Of more pain.

I have been getting some really fantastic spam comments lately and frankly, they’re too good not to share. Please know that I literally copied and pasted these comments, the spelling and punctuation, though similar to my norm, is all the spammers. Really. Okay, mostly.

“My colleage was full of joy when reading one paragraph on your post “… a little tour of the past 6 years with that boy. With some really priceless pictures. We met at a camp. …” it makes me to look more intelligent after understanding it.” You’re right, Reverse Telephone Lookup, you actually do look more intelligent after understanding that fragment of a blogpost about my anniversary.

“Your title Utah is Hard, Yo sums up your content well.” Huh, that one may not actually be spam. It’s actually kind of…observant. And literate.

Smokeless cigarettes wrote, “One crucial point I really enjoy about web site posts is the fact that they spark an notion in my brain. Immediately after that comes about, I experience as I need to comment while using hope it is beneficial to many people.” If only the notion sparked in their brain had some semblance of syntax or grammar.

“This can be one of the most important article I ever read today, I’m talking about this piece of your article “…, but once we began doing some pricing, we realized that without all the cards full of money we got for our wedding,…” this is it, you just smashed it down buddy.” Thanks, How to Get Over my Ex (hint: not by leaving non-sensical spam comments). You really smashed something down too. Namely the English language.

“Thanks for the “work” you put into your blog says my aunt” Um, Live prrno cam, I’m not really sure I appreciate your quotation mark implications. Okay fine. Your aunt and her condescending quotation marks may be right, but she can still bite me.

“Considerably, the blog post is actually the greatest on this worthy topic. I concur with your decisions and will thirstily look forward to see your approaching updates. Saying thanks will not just be adequate, for the phenomenal lucidity in your writing. Please maintain it up!” It’s like the Thesaurus sponsored a spam comment.

Oh, and did I mention that Sarah Palin reads my blog? And she think’s I’m awesome. Seriously, she left me a comment with her name on it and everything! “Such a well written post.. Thnkx for sharing this post!” At least they got the spelling and punctuation sort of close to how I expect she would actually write a comment.

I feel like I have so much to live up to now. I mean, I need to spark notions and smash things. And most importantly, I have to go maintain it up. My life is hard (yo).

We all look at life from different perspectives. With different histories. With different destinations. My perspecitve isn’t special anymore than anyone else’s. It’s just mine.

I am a 27 year old wife, daughter, sister, aunt. I am a full-time student. I am an adult living with chronic pain. I am the survivor of an eating disorder. I’m a cat owner. I’m a brain surgery survivor. I’m a “retired” teacher.

I’m on a journey.

The destination remains to be seen.

The road is rough. It has been full of hurdles, it has been full of detours, pain, medications and tears.

But it is my journey, and this is my story. The story of a 27 year old chronic pain sufferer, brain surgery survivor, married to a doctor, fighting against the odds. Succeeding in the face of people who say that success is impossible. Continuing to fight when I’ve been told to give in.

My journey is one of pain and fear and complication. It is one that is lived out quietly by men and women who manage each day in the face of pain. It is one that so often doesn’t have a real voice, it is one that is overlooked because it isn’t always easy to watch or easy to listen to, it’s not always pretty. It is a journey that is even more difficult to live through, to survive.

It’s easy to overlook my journey because it doesn’t take place in the limelight. It takes place in the quiet struggles of making it through each day, overcoming each hurdle, managing each obstacle. It is in the small victories that go unnoticed, the big challenges that are conquered.

My story is one of perseverance. It is one of survival.

Mine is the journey of succeeding, against all odds, against all bets. It is the story of hope.

I gave up m&ms for an entire 24 hour span of time last week. Because I ate more than I’m even willing to admit to here. And I think when I finish this last bag, I may take some time off. I know, I never thought I’d say something like that either. It’s a week of surprises.

Sometime last Monday I discovered that my new love, kumquats, give me horrific indigestion.

I have a toothache. Kind of. One of my 12 year molars (which, fun fact, I got when I was 15) got a cavity sometime in my late teenage years and was filled with an ugly metal filling. Like 2 years later, it got another cavity (related: I have terrible teeth) and was refilled and I was warned that at that point, my tooth was pretty much more filling than tooth and that I had just narrowly avoided a root canal. I breathed a sigh of relief and moved on, having other teeth filled in the meantime (did I mention I have terrible teeth?).

In the middle of the morning on Friday, I realized that it felt like my jaw sort of hurt, except it was different than usual. It was kind of throbbing. And coming less from my jaw and more from the back of my mouth. And as the day passed, it became pretty evident that it was a tooth instead. Now, every time I take a bite of something without haven’t eaten anything much before it, that tooth hurts. I didn’t used to, which leads me to believe that, the tooth is cooked.

It should be mentioned that I HATE the dentist.

And also that I don’t think I have dental insurance.

Because I hate the dentist.

And that I regularly have dreams where all my teeth fall out.

Speaking of dreams, I dreamed that I died in a plane crash last week. Well, actually, my husband, my sister, and my brother-in-law and I all died in a plane crash. Because my sister was flying. But I couldn’t tell her about the dream until today (and then I forgot) because lately I keep having dreams come true and she was flying home from vacation today. And while I don’t think she was planning on flying the plane, I just didn’t want to tempt fate.

I just learned what AWOL meant today. After I googled it.

My sister wants me to try a headache diet. And I told her I would consider it until she informed me that in included not eating ALL THE FOODS I EAT EVERY DAY. And then she insisted that perhaps that’s a sign that I really need to try it. I have gone without chocolate for a few weeks in the past, but internet, now is not the time for me to try to cope without chocolate. That’s like the worst idea ever.

The reason I have jaw pain is because I fell off a treadmill on my face when I was 12. In a sporting goods store.

One night last week I rinsed the berries from the farmer’s market to serve with dinner. I ate my share before Slappy was ready to eat any, and then he paused the tv to show me one of the raspberries he was about to eat. It had a worm in it. IT HAD A WORM IN IT. It was totally alive and all curled up like, oh hey, I live here! So I threw it across the room and made my husband go pick it up. Only, I threw the raspberry across the room, but the worm landed on the plate next to me and tried to crawl away.

Raspberries are dead to me.

We got a “new” computer today. My MIL got a new iPhone and then realized her desktop Mac wouldn’t sync with it, so she got a new desktop too. And we got the old (totally updateable) one. I call that a win.

Over two years ago, I began attending a Jewish temple with my husband. It was one of the first times he, a Jew by lineage, but primarily in culture, had attended. I didn’t know what to expect, I was going because I had no idea where I belonged in the world of religion. For years I have been wandering from church to church, unsure of what the right answer was. Or rather, unsure of what MY right answer was.

When I walked out of temple that night, I was surprised. I felt awakened. I wanted to go back, I wanted to hear and learn more. And so we went back the next week. And the week after that. And each week I felt more and more at home. The more I learned, the more I heard, the more I began to understand Judaism, the more it felt right to me. And yes, this came with its share of problems. I was attending services at an institution that went against most of the religious tenants I was raised with. It eliminated Jesus as a major pillar of religion.

And if you don’t think that gave me pause, you are mistaken. It’s given me years of it.

I have tried to find an easy way to reconcile what I think I believe now, with what I used to believe, what I was raised with. And you know what? It’s freaking difficult. You can’t snap your fingers and unbelieve everything you once believed, and more than that, I’m not trying to force myself into Judaism, I’m not forcing myself to unbelieve anything (including the fact that there’s no such word as unbelieve). I have no reason for that. My husband has never, ever, asked me to convert. He hasn’t even encouraged me to (rather the opposite, actually) because all he wants is for me to feel supported in my faith, to feel surrounded by people who believe the same things I do. We accept that we are individuals, and faith, is incredibly individual.

When I met my husband, he wasn’t religious, he didn’t know what he believed, and truly, I don’t know if he does even now (I’ll have to ask him to weigh in tomorrow). Just because we attend services together doesn’t mean we believe exactly the same things. And more importantly, I have never let my beliefs be determined by anyone besides myself. I would never let something so important be handled without great care, thought and time.

I identify with Judaism, I can often be caught calling myself Jewish. I feel it, I understand it, and I love it through and through.

Nothing about this change has been especially easy. I know I have disappointed many members of my family, I know that I have made friends uncomfortable, I know I have alienated myself from others. If it was simply an issue of doing what was easiest, I would still be at the church I attended as a child. But what’s easy for me, isn’t what’s right for me right now.

I struggle with some parts, and I doubt I have to further enumerate them. And I don’t know how or when I’ll come to terms with those parts. It is a journey I am on, a journey that is still in it’s early phases. I feel fairly confident in the destination, but I don’t know the roads I will travel, I don’t know how long it will take to traverse the distance.

I just hope that you’ll all be patient with me, I hope that you’ll trust that I am not doing this lightly, that I am not doing it without a considerable amount of thought and time.

I noticed that over the course of the past few weeks there has been a shift in the internet. It may have occurred long ago, but I just noticed it this week. I seems that I’ll be reading a site I like, or a site I just discovered when I get to a post that doesn’t fit. Something about it just feels funny the whole way through.

And it never fails that at the end of that post it will say “this post was sponsored by (the company I just said glittery wonderful things about)” and it’s all I can do to not walk away from my computer right then.

Maybe that’s harsh, but I feel like my twitter stream, my blog list is suddenly filled with promotions, with paid reviews. With things that are not writing. Yes, there are words and sentences, but it’s not real writing.

I understand that many people make a living off their blogs and that to do that, they have to write reviews. And that’s fine and well, but don’t be surprised if people click away. Or I guess person. I’m not looking for profundity, I’m not looking for earth-shattering thoughts and prose (and judging by the fact that you’re reading this, neither do you), I just want to read something real. I want to read about your family’s silly anecdote. I want to hear about that thing that happened last week, that news story that pissed you off or warmed your heart. I want to hear your good and bad news.

I want to read real things.

I don’t want to read about how you got a free car. I don’t want to read about that great! glass! cleaner! I don’t want to read about how you got a free trip to Narnia by blogging about how great Narnia is. I just don’t. Because it’s disingenuous. Because it’s not your real voice. It a voice I can’t trust. It’s a voice I know has ulterior motives, a voice that has been paid to speak, to write.

I tweeted about this yesterday and was surprised at how many people agree. How many people besides me miss the writing, the real stuff, the stories, the jokes, the rants. I’m not the only one. We miss hearing your voice, the real one, not the one that got paid to write that blog post.

If this blog post hurt your feelings, I’m sorry. I do understand that writing reviews is a source of income and hey, I run ads on my blog. I get that. But if you have to write reviews, disperse them. Put them on a second blog that we can choose to go read. Don’t try to hide it within your real content, we see through that. Don’t try to pretend like it’s real writing, it’s not. And I feel like I’m being duped.

Just bring back the writing. Bring back your voice. Be genuine again. Because that, not the number of pageviews, not the number of fans on facebook or followers on twitter, is what makes you a good writer, a good blogger. If you don’t have the content, then none of the rest of it matters anyway.

Bring back the real stuff. Please.

Today I reached the halfway point for my clinical rotation. TODAY I REACHED THE HALFWAY POINT. I know, you don’t like the shouting, but I just felt like that needed to be yelled, because it’s kind of a big deal to me.

In honor of today being such a big landmark for me, my body decided to pull out all the stops. My left hand which is normally week and clumsy, was all kinds of screwed up. I couldn’t feel my 4th and 5th fingers on my left hand at all, and I could barely coordinate the movements of it. My head has been a special brand of miserable, and on like 5 different occasions I was totally convinced I was sitting through an earthquake. I wasn’t.

Thankfully no one seemed to notice.

Each day, I fight pain, I fight anxiety, I fight whatever that day is going to hold both from my body and from my patient list, and I do the best that I can. I don’t remember everything I’ve learned or everything I’ve been told to do. I don’t remember some of the things I should and sometimes I’m not as great at what I’m doing as I’d like to be.

But I am doing the best that I can, and so far, it’s enough. It’s more than enough. I’m not just surviving, honestly, I’m succeeding. I’m getting compliments, I’m getting some praise. I’m getting told by my clinical instructor that I’m managing more than she did when she was at my level in her education. I’m getting told by my patients that I’m making a difference.

I am imperfect and I’m accepting that. I fumble a lot, I struggle, I still mumble and second guess myself about a thousand times a day, but I am succeeding.

I can scarcely tell you how close I came to quitting school last year. My husband talked me down off a ledge I was more than ready to jump head first off of. I had drafted the letter to my program director, I had told some friends. I didn’t think there was any way I’d pass my classes that semester, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to actually go on a clinical. I didn’t think this was possible. I cried for hours at the thought of watching this dream dissolve, a dream I had already worked hard for.

It’s possible. I am succeeding. I am still working so incredibly hard for it.

I know you’re all probably tired of hearing it. I know this isn’t exciting to a lot of you, but it’s something I’m just incredibly proud of, something I want and need to celebrate. I haven’t had all that many things to celebrate in the last 12 months, or many things that I felt like celebrating.

I’m celebrating this. I’m celebrating surviving. I’m celebrating managing. I’m celebrating success.

I’m halfway.

While I was in Utah for the evo conference, I met up with my best friend from high school. She lives in Utah, and just happens to be both a devout Mormon and a very serious Republican. But, she LOVES to talk politics and religion, particularly with people she doesn’t agree with. Which is awesome, because ME TOO. And even more than that, she does it while staying as lovely as always. I somehow seem to always walk away from our infrequent talks critically thinking and inspired.

She is with most Republicans in that she doesn’t want new taxes and she absolutely hates the idea of socialism. Well, she hates it as much as she hates anything, which is to say, she hates it, but would still give it a big hug, because that’s how my friend is.

And I told her that I didn’t understand the fear or hatred of socialism, in fact, I like the idea of socialism (GASP). To me, we have an obligation to help others who need it. We have an obligation to provide for those who can’t. And to me, the wealthiest people have the biggest obligation. If you have more money to spare, you should use some of it to help those who have less. That is obvious to me, and the idea that others don’t agree, just plain confuses me.

My friend sat and thought for a moment. And then she told me that the difference for her is that she already donates as much as she can. And yes, it’s primarily to church and church based organizations, but she donates it to causes she feels strongly about, causes that she feels are appropriate. She said that she doesn’t like the idea that the government tells her where to be charitable.

And internet, for the first time, the dislike of socialism made a little sense. I mean, I still disagreed with her, but I understood her perspective. For people who are already wanting to donate money, to help causes, to be charitable, socialism really isn’t necessary. And when you really think about it, the idea that we could all voluntarily help each other, without the government directing it, is kind of awesome.

And not realistic.

Because the thing is, I don’t think that very many people are like my friend. I don’t think that there are anywhere near enough people who are willing to donate as much of their income as they can safely manage, to help others. I just don’t. And maybe I’m wrong, but from what I see, and what I hear about from those who are opposed to higher taxes, who are opposed to welfare, it just seems like the charitable spirit is not so widespread.

I want to believe in people more than I do, but considering the huge fits that are being thrown by people for even small tax increases to help other people, to help this country, I just don’t see it happening. The more I read about conservative groups spitting vitriol about those who need assistance, calling them names, accusing them of addictions and laziness, the more I know that we are not ready for the government to stop legislating charity.

We are not ready.

Even I’ll admit that I’m not ready. I don’t dislike giving money, donating to those who need it, quite the opposite, really. But, I imagine like many of you, I don’t have time to do the leg work to find organizations that will really help people with my funds. And yes, I see all of you rolling your eyes at the idea that the government does that with your tax dollars, but it does.

I explained this to my friend and she frowned. She didn’t like my pessimism. She didn’t like the idea that people wouldn’t pick up the slack and help others. And I didn’t like it either, but I think that I’m right about it, and I think that for the first time, she understood my perspective and my argument for a variation of socialism.

In a little pizza place in Park City, Utah, the two of us had a discourse that few people can have. We had a conversation where we both talked and thoughtfully, genuinely listened. Where we knew that the intentions of the other person were as pure as our own. Where we had no malevolence for the other person or their opinion. Where we just wanted to learn, to understand.

I don’t know that the two of us will ever agree on politics. In the 14 years we’ve been friends, we haven’t yet. I don’t know if we’ll either be satisfied by our government, or enamored with public policy.

But I do think maybe we’d all spend a lot less time yelling if we approached politics like we were talking with friends. If we talked to others like we valued them, if we listened to ideas and tried to understand them not just change them.

Last month, a Republican and a Democrat walked into a pizza place, talked about politics and walked out as friends anyway.

So, my exciting news? Is here. You’ll find me under humor, which in and of itself, I find hilarious.

I’m a big mix of totally honored and shocked to pieces. And of course, totally amazed to be listed with so many amazing writers and designers. Can’t wait to see the gala and be a part of something to benefit the gulf coast, just great stuff all around!

I had dinner tonight with my in-laws. We went to a really nice restaurant and had really really delicious food. And for the second time in a week, I stupidly ignored my instinct and ate something that clearly had eggs in it. Which is bad because I’m allergic to eggs and now I just want to diiiiiiiie. Tonight it was portobella mushroom fries (definitely dipped in egg batter), earlier this week is was a thai salad that had egg in the salad dressing. I know better, and I’m now suffering for not being vigilant.

There’s nothing more irritating that being responsible for your own 12 hour stomach ache. Especially twice in a week.

Also, if the fact that there is routinely eggs (often under or not at all cooked) in salad dressing doesn’t disturb you, then I’m not sure we can be friends.

My husband and I have been watching episodes of The West Wing this summer since we’re caught up on (some) tv. I had almost forgotten how much I love that show. No one writes intelligent zingers like Aaron Sorkin.

I picked up my sister’s dog at the doggy daycare center yesterday because she couldn’t get him in time. We opened the passenger door of the car and he jumped right in and sat down…in Slappy’s seat. And wouldn’t get up. So I got in the driver’s seat and before I knew it, Max was sitting on my lap instead.

And he wouldn’t leave. He was like, no, this is better. I’ll just sit on Katie’s lap. And so he did. The whole way home. And then he sat out on the patio while the cats tried to attack him through the screen until my sister came. It was a loud evening, to say the least.

The fact that I have a bag of cupcakes from the restaurant tonight that I don’t even want to eat right now is depressing the hell out of me.

We found out that there’s a farmer’s market in our area on Sunday mornings and so we went to check it out today. And holy awesome produce, batman. And though I was hesitant, my husband convinced me to try a kumquat and uh, now they’re pretty much all I want to eat. I had no idea what I’ve been missing all these years.

I bought more pretzel m&ms today.

We’ve been growing herbs and a few other plants on our patio for like a month and last weekend we got saw our very first serrano pepper. It was super tiny first and it’s probably quadrupled in size in the last week. We’re going to make something this week (when I say we, I obviously mean me) to use our little pepper that could. Assuming the bugs don’t eat it first. I’ll probably make either chicken or fish with a mango or pineapple salsa, but I’m seriously open to suggestions.

I have really cool and exciting news for you all tomorrow. I’ve been sitting on this for a few days, you can handle one night, right?