Mail

I got a letter in the mail today from my neurologist with the results from the last minute MRI I took earlier this week. It echoed the message my doctor left on my answering machine, assuring me that everything looks just fine. There's a "red-shade area of encephalomalacia measuring nearly 4 cm in diameter in the anterior left parietal lobe", meaning that there's a hole in my brain, but it's the hole that was made intentionally on January 24th and looks normal. No strange liquids are secreting into areas where they shouldn't be and my sinuses and mastoids (though I have no idea what those are), are clear. So pretty much it's all quiet on the left parietal front.

Between that and a take out menu featuring a cartoon of a 1950s woman on a motorcycle with a man behind her doing various inappropriate things to promote the daily specials was my credit card bill. It's raining outside, so I walked quickly up the uncovered stairs and waited until I reached my apartment to open the letter. Tearing at the lip of the envelope, I ungracefully pulled out the long sheet of paper that began with a sum total that made my heart sink and my stomach clench up. Honestly it could have been five dollars and I would've had the same reaction, though. I scanned down the list of purchases, mostly grocery stores, a couple coffee shops, a cell phone, my Netflix account and the monthly FreeCreditReport.com report that isn't actually free. I read through the list and all I kept thinking was, what am I doing? What am I doing? I have no income, I have no job, I write all day but that actually costs money if you think about the electric bill being augmented by the increased use of my computer. Okay, so writing is good, and I do want to tell my story even if I'm the only one who ever reads it. And yes, I'm doing a fair amount of volunteer work with the Epilepsy Foundation of Colorado. The walk is in two days and I only need a hundred dollars more to reach my fundraising goal of a thousand dollars, which I have to say I'm pretty proud of. Still, I feel like I'm slacking. I feel like I should be doing something more, I should be getting back on the saddle and riding it like a pro, kicking ass and taking names and working million-hour weeks like I used to. I know that I have great earning potential, but I'm not putting it to use sitting here in my kitchen writing about my feelings, drinking neutered coffee and popping Tylenol. I mean, what the hell do I expect to feel when I open a credit card bill? A check written out to me saying, "Sorry you're feeling stressed, Erica, here's a little something on us"? Of course not. I don't know, I'm probably just rambling now.

I've applied to a couple jobs now, all finance or business development jobs, bringing me back to my econ roots. I have all of this training in economics, finance and business and it seems wasteful to not be using it, especially when those jobs tend to bring in a fairly nice income. I miss making money. It's just so frustrating though, because even as I sit here and write this, I can feel the left anterior parietal region of my head is trying to decide if it wants to be a dull or a sharp pain. When is this going to be over? When am I going to feel confident that I can go into a workplace and last a whole day? Not crazy hours, just a regular 40-50 hour week. That's all I want, but can I handle it? I don't know the answer to that. I just feel like I'm floating in limbo and it's getting hard to breathe.

Maybe I'm too far into my head now and should probably go heat up some chili and watch an episode of Prison Break with my boyfriend before going to sleep. That's probably best. Things tend to be much clearer in the morning.