Things That are Probably Only Significant to Me

So I've officially had my first "panic attack" of the semester. The first of many I presume. I came home last night after 8 hours of work and 6 hours of class to a husband that was like a puppy waiting for his human to come home. He just missed me so much and wanted to show me all the things he learned about his new racing video game as I struggled to keep my eyes open collapsed in the chair. I was finally allowed to collapse in my bed where I was able to get at least a few hours sleep before my brain decided it needed to THINK. And THINK A LOT. I hate when my brain does this and it does it of course whenever I'm on the overloaded side.

So for the next several hours I tried my hardest to stop thinking. Thoughts of mental diagnoses, group therapy dynamics and empathy with patients I might dislike all swarm through my head. The idea of making new friends in school. Yes this stresses me out a lot. I'll have to write a whole other post as to why. Let me just say, making friends is pretty emotionally exhausting for me.

In addition, as I think I've mentioned before, I've taken on some added responsibility at Faire this season. One that I'm really looking forward to, but last weekend we had auditions for new members to be a part of my group and they didn't go at all like I had hoped, but we did bring in some much needed fresh blood. But that means I have until next Saturday to get all four new gals at least up to speed enough that they aren't left behind. So this means lots of emails, phone calls, explanations, more friendship building, research, guidance and just effort and energy. So I'm feeling a bit thinly spread. Somewhere in the background is my poor patient husband waiting his turn with his wife who is always insanely busy.

I think things will calm down once I get the new kids integrated and I settle into a routine with school, but for now, I'm a little overwhelmed.

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So two days ago I was in the shower and I hear something really small hit the floor. I was confused because well, I wasn't wearing clothes or jewelry in the shower and I wasn't too sure what the heck would have dropped. After I got out of the shower I realized it was the little ball on my belly button ring that keeps it from slipping out. I was bummed because I don't have another one and it most likely fell down the drain. So I went all ghetto and put on a little rubber thing you use on French hook earrings to keep them from falling out as a temporary solution. (Stay with me, I promise there is a point)

Ne next day in the shower I found the little ball in the corner of the shower. Much joy was had. I didn't want to just put it back on until I disinfected it, and I was too lazy to do so at the time, so I put it my jewelry bowl and figured I'd do it later. Last night the little rubber thing on the ring fell off, lost to the world while I was at school. So I spent the rest of the night worrying that the ring would come out. Once I got home, I disinfected both the ring and little ball and put it all back in.

Then I started thinking. Why in heck am I doing all of this? I got the belly button ring when I was 21. It was my great act of rebellion. My mom HATED it and since I was stuck living with her, it was the most perfect thing ever. Not as permanent as a tattoo, but certainly pressed the same buttons. And for me, the all around, general "good girl", this was the best I could do in the rebellion department.

But I'm not 21 anymore. And I most certainly don't have my cute little 21 year old tummy (which I just thought was so fat at the time, and still never showed off) anymore.  I had always figured I'd take it out when I got knocked up, but I also thought I would have been knocked up long ago. I'm really amazed it didn't dawn on me until just last night that I have absolutely no idea why I still have the thing and that I can take it out.  I'm just so used to having it I guess. It's not like I'm prancing around in bikinis these days. Even if I was, it's not like it still bugs my mom. That task was accomplished. It only irritates me most of the time; my pants sit right on it and press it into me. I have to practically pry it out of my belly button after a faire day. I've thankfully never had an infection, but still, it could always happen.

I asked Chris if he cared either way, and he said he didn't, so I think it's time to say good bye. Silly as it seems, I still am reserved. The one big act of rebellion I did. It was significant to me. So I guess I'll take a pic and then say good bye to my one piece of body jewelry.

And for the record. No I would NEVER do it again. It hurt sooooo bad and I almost passed out. I thought I was going to vomit all over the place. Afterwards my friends had to take me home to go to bed (I think it was about 7pm) because I was too shaky to go out with them afterwards. Yeah, so it's just been loads of fun from the beginning.  Oh silly rebellion.