I never thought I would make it to the final camping weekend. I was almost 99.9% sure I would die of exhaustion, stress, and anger before I saw today. Luckily I didn’t, I’m still alive and kicking. I don’t know if I will be after the weekend, ask me on Sunday.

Last weekend was absolutely horrible. It rained the entire day on Saturday, and my body ached so bad I couldn’t even move. I had to keep going into my tent and trying to stay out of the cold and rain and get warm. I think I pissed off my boss and co-workers but I really didn’t care, I could barely move. Kate says its my fault for taking on a job I “couldn’t handle”.

Anyways, I quit my second job; which was working with a boy who has a developmental delay. I believe I put too much on my plate and just wasn’t able to handle it. Thats alright though, I’ve lessened the load and now I shouldn’t be too stressed out!

In other news, Harry Potter 5 comes out tomorrow. I’m pumped but slightly depressed since I won’t get to get it until Monday since I am camping and since I have a college tour that day anyway.

So my high school graduation ceremony was last night. I have to say it went beautifully. It was really nerve racking coming outside to see several bleachers full of friends, family and teachers. I almost died. I was fully able to picture myself falling flat on my face. Luckily, I didn’t.

I was deeply embarrassed halfway through the award part of the ceremony because I realized I wasn’t going to get an award. The few that I thought I would get ended up going to other people. So I stopped listening to the awards, and then guess what? I was called up to accept the Heather Rebeka Lodge Award that is awarded to a graduate student who worked hard and will be attending college in the fall despite obstacles. The obstacles they were talking about was the two surgeries I had last year that put me behind my classmates. Had I not taken co-op, I would be short two credits and I would not have graduated. Thanks to co-op, I was able to earn 2 extra credits and graduate with my classmates. I was award $200 which I put in the bank today.

Unfortunately thanks to co-oping all day, I missed out on having a social life. Most of my classmates enjoyed their last year of high school by attending several parties, going to school functions and just enjoying the high school life. I missed out on that. I was busy working. I missed out on one of the classmates finding a mouse in their pants, I missed out on several awesome get-togethers. I didn’t go prom camping, and I didn’t go to any of the Blue Jays games the popular kids put together because I wasn’t sure if I would feel weird or not.

The class valedictorian made me think about all the stuff I missed out on by giving her beautiful speech. I now feel guilty for assuming I would have a horrible year way back in September, because I could have made it better. Instead of making time for my old friends, I accepted the fact that they had changed. Ya, maybe a couple of them changed for the worst but I still could have joined in on the antics every once in a while. I could have made the new people to my old circle of friends feel included, I should have made my own friendships with them instead of assuming I had been replaced in that circle of friends. I should have skipped more classes, laughed more, attended more parties, gone to more school dances, and enjoyed it while I still could.

I sat through the Graduating Class Slideshow a bunch of people put together and almost started to cry. I missed out on knowing a lot of people. I was only in the slideshow twice myself, and I could have been in there more. Had I given myself the chance to fit in. I suppose you could say that I decided I was above silly high school antics, and in believing so I missed out on what could have been a really fun time of my life.

But that chapter of my life is over now, I have accepted my diploma from high school and in the fall I will be attending college. I’ve got everything set up; the cheques in the mail to secure my spot in the Social Service Worker Program and my first and last months rent has been paid for my apartment. I’ll be attending a Welcome Day in late July, and I’ll bring in all the stuff I need to get set up with Disability Services.

The tuition payment was supposed to be due today, but yesterday my dad and I drove up the college to explain our situation. The money had not come in yet; we were still waiting for the government to release it. They understood, and have given me until Friday of next week. Luckily, the money came in yesterday evening and the college will definietly have it by next Friday. My mom is planning on running it up Tuesday (since Monday is a holiday).

So everyone, I am no longer a high school student.

I hate those nights when you can’t sleep, even though you are exhausted. I can’t seem to get my brain to stop thinking so I can sleep, I’ve been thinking so much that I gave myself a headache. There is just so much going on right now, so many thoughts and worries and concerns.

One of my concerns is that MHE really is making me crazy. Maybe it isn’t the chronic pain, but maybe its the always feeling like your uncapable of doing more. You push and push your body until it breaks but it still doesn’t feel good enough because other people are doing more without straining themselves.

I have tried my hardest to not be lazy, even though my energy gets used up very easily. I drain energy fast, I am definitely not an Energizer Bunny. If I was a battery, I would be the cheap dollar store one that drained after 5 minutes of use. I am so sick of never having enough energy to do everything I want. I want to do everything they can. I want to be able to lift heavier things and work all day without being in so much pain and without being so exhausted.

How do you break out of this constant layer of self-doubt and judgement? I critize myself more then other people critize me, I know that…I just can’t stop it. I don’t know how.

I should think about planning another surgery; should think about writing down the aches and pains and telling the New Doctor about them. Maybe he could fix them so I have more energy and strength, but I doubt it. It seems like with every surgery and each passing year I loose more energy and strength, and I didn’t have a lot to begin with. I’m worried about my bones fusing, I don’t know what that would feel like and my left ankle has been locking up for the past year and a half now. I’m not sure why, and I’m worried it could be because of fusing.

I worry about a lot of things. I wish I could learn how to relax.

Have you ever had one of those weekends so full of ups and downs it felt like you were a part of a really bad soap opera that over dramatized everything? Ya. I just had one of those weekends.

Friday was a good day for me; it was my birthday, how could it have sucked? I spent it with my family and got cool presents. Saturday was a pretty decent day, I took the Non-Violent Crisis Intervention Course through work and learned a lot of valuable things. I also helped set up the dinning shelters for camp to see if we had all the pieces. Sunday was a completely different story. I was planning on going for the perfect birthday weekend where nothing goes wrong and you’re just generally happy to have reached the age of 18. I am still generally happy about being alive, but I’m completely bummed out at the same time.

Early on Sunday morning, Father’s Day, my beloved dog passed away. Shadow had been a part of our family for 8 years, and saying goodbye was so difficult. He was a major part of our lives, and I already miss every little thing about him. I miss him coming into the kitchen to bug me for a slice of cheese every time I opened the refrigerator, I miss him barking loudly every time I come home, I miss him sighing from boredom when my mom and I are on the computers instead of paying him attention, and I miss seeing him waiting at the top of the drive when we come home. That’s just a quick list of things I miss about him, the things I notice more now that he’s gone. The only good thing I have to say on that matter was that it was a quick death. I’m assuming his heart gave out as my Dad saw him in Kate’s room breathing rather heavily and tried to get him to come upstairs but he wouldn’t. Dad then went upstairs to put on a pot of coffee and by the time he came back down to check on Shadow, he had moved to the part of the hallway in front of my bedroom door and my parent’s bedroom door and died.

So Sunday really sucked for me. I was in bed completely out of sorts. I know he was a dog and to a lot of people who wouldn’t understand, there are worse things that could happen – and I am sure that’s true. But keep in mind that Shadow was a very important part of our family. He was one of us. I’m going to miss him a lot.

Monday afternoon I finally made my way down to my grandparents house. I was supposed to go on the Sunday but I didn’t feel up to it. Papa’s health seems ok; he’s progressing at the expected speed of someone who has just had triple bypass surgery. He seems depressed though, but I read online and have been told that its related to having heart surgery and it will pass when he starts feeling like his normal self. I agree with that. Papa has always been the kind of man who has to keep busy, or else he feels useless. Plus there isn’t a lot for him to do around the house.

Papa isn’t feeling up enough to coming to my Commencement on the 28th of June, as the car ride is a long one and he would have to sit outside for a couple hours – he could catch a chill. I don’t want him getting sick over seeing a silly ceremony that is very predictable anyway. He’s seen Shannon’s and Kate’s, he knows how it works. Besides, we will take lots of pictures and he will get to miss all the boring speeches! Lucky guy!

I start work tomorrow, I mean actual work, getting paid for the hours I put in. I got all of my co-op hours on Friday and sent in all of the co-op papers, so I’m now officially done with co-op. I’m an official employee, getting paid. We leave on Friday at 5pm for camp, and won’t get back until 3:30pm on Sunday. For a while, I was just going to get volunteer hours, but luckily my boss decided to put me on the payroll for that. Camp is going to be very hectic and stressful, and it will be good getting paid to sleep on a very hard ground and probably throw my body out of whack. It’s going to be interesting to see how my body reacts to sleeping in a tent, as I’ve never done it before. I’ll have to do it for 3 weekends in a row in July!

Well I’m off to read and get an early sleep, and perhaps think of some alibis for the Murder Mystery Club Night I’m helping run tomorrow.

P.S. I am a little worried that I lost all the readers I had before when I wasn’t posting a lot, so please if you are reading comment me so I know you’re still reading!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I would change if I had the money for plastic surgery. Come on, who doesn’t think about it? That thought is sure to have crossed every female’s mind at some point – even if it was a “Wow, that’s digusting – I would never do that to my body!” But really, would you? If you had as much money as Paris Hilton or Britney Spears?

I’ve been under the knife a lot of times – just not for plastic surgery. Plastic surgery would probably turn out to be disastrous for me, because of the way I scar. Still though, I often used to dream of being scarless and perfect – I even thought about looking into having my ears pulled back.

Now though, I’m completely content with the way I look. I wouldn’t change a thing – unless said scar was causing me a lot of irritation and just not healing properally. Yeah, I’m still really senstive about it and you probably wouldn’t catch me on the beach in the near future – but I don’t hate myself enough to change myself.

The scars all are there to remind me of the things I’ve gone through. Yes, even if they were gone then I would still have the memories of each surgery, but they are like a map – helping me remember where I’m going and where I’m from.

A couple years ago, I thought that if I changed myself then people would like me better. I wanted to make myself better for them, not me. Media can be a scary thing, can’t it? Telling people they have to look a certain way in order to be happy. And to think I believed that bull crap about the perfect shape and size.

I don’t want to look that certain way anymore. I’m happy with who I am; although it does get annoying at times and it’s quite exhausting to always be thinking about the consequences for my actions. I can’t just go snowboarding and have fun with my friends without wondering what the physical effect will be. I still want to experience all those fun things my friends do; and maybe I could, if I was careful about it.

Still, it beats being a size 0 with tons of eating disorders. Besides, it was rare in itself finding someone who actually hated me because I had extra bones or scars. It was silly of me to hate my scars and want them removed. I know that now.

So my message for today is; be happy with who you are, because it isn’t going to change. Plastic surgery just seems to make things worse. Don’t believe me? Two words: Michael Jackson.

Ya, I think I’ll keep the scars. And my sticky out ears.

Since my post on “Expensive Thoughts“, I’ve been thinking a lot about my game plan for the future and what career I’m going to pursue after high school. Ever since I stated volunteering at Sunrise Youth Group, I’ve wanted to work with the developmentally challenged. There is just something about them, you won’t know what I’m talking about until you actually see for yourself so there’s no point in trying to explain it.

The ideas I’ve been looking into are; Educational Assistant, Human Services Counsellor (which I couldn’t find a description for), and a Child or Youth Worker. Those job descriptions have captured my interest for quite some time now, but lately I’ve been wondering about benefits. I need to choose a career that will be flexiable, and offer benefits. If it doesn’t offer benefits, would I be screwed over if I had to take time off for a surgery?

Of course when I went to the Guidence Counsellor, she told me that I really wouldn’t be able to base it on the jobs in themselves, but I’d have to consider where I would be working. Will I have a contract? Be a part of a union? Things like that.

I honestly don’t know why I’m so worried about all that financial crap, but I don’t want to waste all my dads money on schooling for a job that I can’t afford to take time off for surgeries. Surgeries aren’t always something I can put on the back burner for a time more convenient, sometimes it’s a now or never sort of deal.

In the comments over at italk2much for my review, Ish mentioned in his comment “It’s great that she’s not gone into hiding because of her disease. Not many people would talk about things like that easily.” I was flattered and touched to read that, seeing as it is hard for me to share this part of myself with everyone out there in the blogging atmosphere.

In the past, I admit that I have cowered in the corners of my self and made up stories for the questions people asked me, because I didn’t know how they would react to the truth. It’s always awkward telling people because they usually aren’t all that interested in hearing a long, indepth story about it. The strange part is they aren’t satisfied with a simple “I got it from a surgery,” in response to them asking about my scars. They ask me what the surgery was for, and almost always lose interest halfway through my explanation. It’s a little easier on this blog to talk about my disorder, but it’s still pretty difficult. I have a lot of stuff I want to say, stuff I want to talk about and share with everyone – but it’s sometimes really difficult to put all those thoughts into words that I know at least one person will read after I post it. But I’m doing it, slowly and maybe not very well, but it still counts for something.

I also admit to hiding. In grades seven and eight I didn’t even wear a t-shirt to school. I still don’t feel 100% comfortable wearing t-shirts, and I’ve never worn a short skirt to school. I did buy two short skirts last summer in hopes of breaking out that complex of not being able to show the public my legs, but I haven’t worn them anywhere outside my house. I’m working on that though, and hopefully this summer I will be able to wear the skirts.

I was flattered by a lot of comments. Some people said I was strong and others complimented my ability to not let my disorder define who I am – which I try not to, but it is a part of who I am and it has sort of shaped who I am today. I understand that it wasn’t some people’s cup of tea, but that’s okay; you can’t please everyone in the world and usually “medical” blogs aren’t very popular. I didn’t make this blog for a popularity contest, I made it for me.

One comment was made saying I was totally made up, and screaming for attention. Surprisingly, instead of bumming me out that comment really made me laugh. I would really have liked to be making all this stuff up, but fact of the matter is I’m not. I have this disorder. These are my thoughts and feelings on having it – it isn’t made up. Although I must confess, I do like a little bit of attention every now and then – who doesn’t? But that’s not the purpose of this blog at all. I’m surprised that person missed the purpose, seeing as I made it clear in my first entry, but whatever. Although everyone is gifted with a brain, a lot of people don’t know how to use it.

In an earlier post, I rambled on and on about wondering who I’d be if I didn’t have MHE. I guess I will never know if I would be a completely different person, but I do know something: it would be a lot easier.

Yesterday, I went to the mall. I had some last minute Christmas shopping to do. After spending not even 3 hours wondering around with my friends shopping for the people on my list, my legs were killing me. It hurt so much to take each step, and my legs felt as if they both seperately weighed over a hundred pounds each.

I didn’t feel like I could share my pains with the people I was with because I didn’t really honestly think they would understand. When my boyfriend showed up to do his Christmas shopping, I knew that he would be quicker. Basically in and out – he hates malls. So I decided to leave the people I was with after telling them I was going to help him shop.

Now I’m in a fight with my best friend. All because communication lines are fuzzy. I can’t explain myself in words to the people I’m talking to. Blogging about things is easier because I’m not talking to one direct person. I’m writing stuff down and people are reading it after I’ve published it. I find it easier to chat with people online then to talk with them on the phone, which is why I hardly call anyone. There’s something about the keyboard that makes me feel free – so to speak. I’m able to explain what’s going on a little better, instead of talking to someone about it.

Anyway, I left the mall because I didn’t want to push myself anymore. I knew that if I were to spend another hour there walking around and standing in huge lineups, I would seriously regret it in the morning. It didn’t help that it was damp and raining outside – two things that are not good for my legs at all. I know my body, and I know when to call it quits for the day.

If I had the opportunity to change one thing about MHE I would change the pain part. Not only is it painful, but it’s annoying to myself and everyone else around me. It holds me back from doing simple tasks such as Christmas shopping. It makes little things more difficult. It’s the worst part of MHE, because it’s always there. Both physically and emotionally.

I just finished writing a letter to my pen pal Mandy in the States. During the letter, I briefly mentioned to her how I used to feel about myself regarding relationships and other such things. Although it was mentioned briefly in the letter, I now find myself thinking about the way I used to think. Are you following me still? Probably not. I’m not making any sense really, but I will in time – I promise.

In grade seven and eight, and most of grade nine too for that matter – I truly believed that I was deemed “unworthy” of having any cute, decent guy crush on me. I automatically thought that they wouldn’t like me after finding out about my MHE. Most of the times, I was right, but only because it was back in grade seven, when boys still thought belching and farting was cool – hell, they still think belching and farting is cool. What I mean to say is they were even more immature in grade seven then they are now, which is saying a lot – for the most part anyway.

In grade seven, I also thought that “a person like me” shouldn’t wear makeup. I wasn’t meant to be a normal teenage girl, so I shouldn’t act like a normal teenage girl by wearing makeup and carrying a purse. That’s right – I didn’t even think I was worthy of having a purse! I don’t know where my train of thought came from, well me obviously but I don’t know why I thought that.

I know now (obviously) that I was completely wrong with my outlook on life. It was ignorant of me to think that of myself, and it’s just as worse as other people being ignorant towards my medical disability. Now I know that I am just as worthy of having relationships as anyone else in the world is. I wear makeup, and do “normal” teenage girl stuff. Since I grew up a little and realized how wrong I was, I’ve never thought anything like that again, because that way of thinking is wrong and very self harming.

There’s no doubt that I walk with a limp – that’s pretty obvious after several leg operations – and no matter where I am, sooner or later someone always asks me; “Why are you limping?”

It’s the dreaded question. It seems that I’ll just be feeling confident about my walking skills and then someone will ask that question. My mind will complain and whine about it, saying; “But I thought I was doing better!” while my mouth answers the question tonelessly. Usually, I don’t answer truthfully. To answer truthfully, I would have to take up a lot of that person’s time, and how can I be sure if they’re actually interested in hearing the full story?

It’s happened in the most unusual of places. For instance, I’ve previously mentioned I volunteer for a place called Sunrise Youth Group, and all of the members have some kind of developmental problem. At one of the week long camps this year, one of my fellow volunteers made fun of the way I walked. I was a little thrown off at the “You walk like an old lady!” comments, seeing as we were at that camp to begin with. The guy saying them didn’t mean any harm, but like I said, ignorance is a barrier. Those comments hurt me, because I had thought I was doing so well. I had just had my leg surgery that May [I think...the details are a little fuzzy, they're always fuzzy!] and I thought I was doing pretty good, since it was August and all. So basically I had two and a bit of months to heal before ditching my crutches and going to the camp.

I’ve noticed that in the hallways at school, if someone is staring at me (which they do a lot, and I hate staring people, can’t they find anything more interesting to look at?) I notice I limp more because I’m trying so hard not to that I end up limping more. How does that make sense? I don’t know. Heck, for all I know, those people who stare at me could be playing there own private game of “Let’s see who can make Jessica limp more!”

I also limp more if I’m tired or in a hurry. Tired is obvious, everyone walks weird when their tired, but limping more because you’re in a hurry? I guess it’s because I haven’t really regained full use of all of my leg muscles yet. I would by now, had I gone to all my Physio Therapy appointments and done all the exercises.

A note to all you little MHE’ers out there: Physio Therapy is very important. Even if you really don’t want to, go to every appointment and do every exercise. That way you’ll get better faster. It’s been around six months since my last leg surgery, and I’m still having difficulties – all because I didn’t really do the exercises my Physio Therapist wanted me to do. So do those exercises and more, that way you get better quicker and you might just be able to do something about that limp. Mine is with me until I do those exercises and strenghten my leg though.