Isis, an introduction.

I volunteer as a feeder at the horse rescue across the street from us. I started last winter, since the highway out here sometimes closes in the early mornings when it snows, and the horses get fed at 7am. It takes about 3 hours, in winter, to slog the golf cart full of hay around to all the pens, mix feed, and slog the now bucket-laden cart back around, then rinse the buckets in freezing hose water, and prepared the soaked feeds and throw new bales into the cart for the night feeders. It's hard work, but it's so peaceful. I love it.
Last Thursday I called the barn manager and asked if I could help out in any way with groundwork. I don't really care to ride, but I do miss the interaction and a lot of the horses at the rescue could use some more mental stimulation. Turns out, she started a 'handlers' program last Sunday and I had missed the e-mail! Two of the more challenging horses, however, were not being used because none of the volunteers were experienced enough for everyone to feel comfortable about it. So Saturday I met with Emmie and we started talking about Isis. I don't have time to give her story now, but I will write it up later. Suffice it to say, she's a 7 year old mare who's pushy and occasionally bites, and she would be having a wonderful riding career right now if people didn't suck so hard.
So, I spent a couple hours with Isis, working through some personal space/ boundary issues and giving her a good grooming. She's such a love, all she wants is to be in your lap. But she does get bored easily, and she expresses this boredom by pacing, pawing, biting, and physically knocking her handler around. I'm looking forward to having a horse to play with on a regular basis, and I really think some tough love will go a long ways towards getting Isis into more amiable behavior patterns and thus upping her chances of being adopted.

I intend to write about how much I loathe PETA later, so stay tuned!

Pictures that make me Smile

Have a good Sunday!

5 years in recovery, 3 left to go.

When there are 378 people in your lecture section, and the teacher talks at you like kindergartners, it's rather hard to wake up and drive an hour to sit in an uncomfortable chair for 45 minutes. Sorry, Mikey- I'm still a bad student.

Anyhow, my second stint on blogspot is meant to be less about illness, more about randomness; but I've recently begun to think that to avoid repeating everything, I need to remember the details. I've gotten to that happy place where I can look back without slipping back, so maybe this is the moment to start reflecting.

Last year at this time the big decision was whether I could finish college, or if I needed another medical leave. Now my big decision is whether or not to double-major in molecular biology and biochemistry, since it would only take a couple extra classes and the sequential biology will keep me here for another two years anyways. I like this lack of urgency. I REALLY like not being on medical leave!

The strange, but somehow nice, thing about an illness that takes an average of 8 years to recover from is that it has given my family and remaining friends time to come their own terms with it. The first few years I hated everything- my friends for abandoning me, my parents for not understanding, the school system for being so damn ridiculous about documentation. I almost didn't graduate from high school because the principal, whose daughter had brain cancer at the time, decided that my brain problems were no excuse for waving a couple classes. I would like to note here that I was an AP scholar with scholarship offers from multiple small, strong science colleges before I had even started applying to schools. They called the day before graduation to say they'd decided I couldn't graduate, and my mom let all hell loose on them. I walked at the ceremony without knowing if I would actually get my diploma or not until later that afternoon.

I so wanted to be normal again, and no one but the doctors though I couldn't be. My mom had me switching specialists monthly for over a year because everyone had the same, grim prognosis and she couldn't handle it. So far, though, it's been spot-on:

In 4-6 months I would most likely develop PTSD- 4 months later I did.

The first one and a half years would be a downward spiral, without any major improvments until 3 years or so- they were filled with cutting, raging, deep depressions, horrible flashbacks, and autitory and visual hallucinations. I was hospitalized while away at school, and had to take medical leave and come home. At almost exactly 18 months my thoughts congealed enough to dump the abusive boyfriend I'd had since the accident. The hallucinations came less often, and I had fewer flashbacks. A week before the 2 year mark, I met Mike and started part-time at college again. At 3 years, I started school fulltime again.

Going off the medications would be like quitting Cocaine. Withdrawl, depression, crawling skin. I would need to take a year off to complete the slow tapering-down of my dosage. Last year, at 4 years, I was mostly done with the drugs, but I had to go on medical leave after the last couple dosage drops increased my flashbacks and left me depressed and cutting again.

At five years, I would start to think and act more like my past self, and start to feel better. I would have hopefully learned enough coping methods to keep the PTSD in check and maintain a 'normal' life. I will still be easily overwhelmed, but I will be better at saying 'no' to things that will make me regress. It was five years as of two weeks ago. I've returned to school again, back to my origional major. Being a 17-22 year old who couldn't drink, stay out late, sleep weird hours, and be in large groups of people was very, very hard to come to grips with, and I give full credit to Mike for helping me find ways to have fun that don't make me sick. We're on a bowling league, I've started watching more movies instead of getting frustrated at the shifting print in books, and when I get in over my head and can't finish a project, Mike is a saint and does clean-up. My balance recently became good enough that I can walk in a straight line, so I've been hiking again in addition to careful weight lifting. I've lost 40+ lbs of the 80+ lbs I put on after the injury. This past spring Greg and I went skiing and had a blast! I haven't lost all my atheltisism after all; it's just been hiding! My dad bought me a season pass 'for Chirstmas' so Greg and I can go up a lot more this coming season! I volunteer feeding at a horse rescue a few nights a month, which fulfills my need for horse-time without costing a fortune. I think about Tigger, the horse who I fell with, a lot, and talk to his new owner a few times a year, but haven't been out to see him in a long time. He's a pleasure horse now, they trail ride a lot, but occasionally he still has a nutty eventer moment and does something terrible, like when he kicked her in the stomach after he'd been penned up for an injury for a couple days... There's a horse at the rescue who had a head-injury in a trailer accident, actually, and I spend extra time with her on my nights feeding. She's so young and spunky, but she'll never be adopted because she's not ridable and she has so many emotional issues as a result of that trailer accident. A high school girl came out twice a week over the summer to brush this mare, because she felt a connection and managed to convince the barn manager that she could deal with the potential dangers. It was somehow life-changing to me to watch them together.

8 years after the accident, I will be as recovered as I can get, which hopefully means having the ability to hold a job, have a full social life, and not get so easily overwhelmed. Here's hoping!!!

Postcards

Mike got my little sister, Katy, and I started writing postcards with his tale of woe on the Oregon Trail. Since it takes at least two weeks for mail to get from me to her and vice-versa, we're only a couple rounds in, but they're something wonderful to look forward to! Our son, Timmy, died of cholera earlier in our epic, and I recently captured a porcupine which I, due to seriously sun-stroke, believe to be my dearest child come back from the dead. Katy is struggling to adjust to her punishment of being sent to Van Deimen's Land, the frightening 'new dimension' that it is. The seasons are reversed, the trees shed their bark but not their leaves, the animals bounce... clearly the whole island is the work of The Devil!

We're way cool.

Sometimes it's easy to forget how close I am to my little sister. In Melbourne, we were both tired and cranky. Our hostel room was private, but beyond small. We didn't have money to eat anywhere special, so we had cheese sandwiches and random things from the corner market. We went to the movies to find the only thing with tickets left was 'Sex and the City.'

There are very few people with whom I could share such circumstances and not murder. Katy is one of them. We had such a blast together this past May/June! I'm so glad I got the chance to go to Hobart [Tasmania, Australia] and see where she's living, meet her friends, listen to her sing, pet wallabies, eat the world's best apples and freshest deep-fried seafood, see penguins, walk in amazing parks, pet some more wallabies...
Thank you, parents, and your frequent-flier miles!!!

We talked Monday night (Tuesday afternoon for her) and I'm all excited for her to come to Colorado for her summer break! She'll get home around Thanksgiving, and probably stay through December. There are advantages to living so close to my parents! Mike's sister is also coming to Colorado, from Tokyo, for his graduation in December, so it will be a family-filled holiday season! I always get a little anxious for big winter plans because the highway between our house and my parents' house is a nightmare when it snows- and it snows at complete random here. It can be sunny and in the 50s in the morning, then a full-on blizzard by 2 pm.

Anyhow, this was a good break before my genetics lab. See you kids later.

September

I felt like such a tourist, stopping to take a picture of these twin fawns! Not only do I see deer daily, but this summer my parents have had two sets of twins and their moms walking through their yard every afternoon! We don't see as many deer in our yard, but twice a year the elk migrate through and eat EVERYTHING, even the juniper bushes!!! We've also had a bunch of coyote sightings in our neighborhood this month, and one missing cat...
Anyhow, my sister wanted pictures of 'American wildlife' to show her friends in Oz, so I obliged!

Taking pictures while driving is probably a bad idea...

We live at the base of that mesa on the left, a ways off that side of the picture. This is one of the worst windy parts of the road; two springs ago I came to this hill crest and slammed on the breaks to avoid a blown-over semi-truck. I've also see tipped trailers and tipped UHauls on this mile stretch.

An abandoned mine along the highway

Green Mountain and The Flatiorns, from Cherryvale Rd.

A handful of the cottonwoods have turned! Feels early.

All of these pictures were taken from my car; only the top one was taken when I wasn't actively driving. Oops. I like to turn my camera on, and occasionally hold it out to the side and click it without looking. Surprisingly, I get more decent pictures than blurred shots of my passenger door!

Time for a real entry- Fushia sweats and Uggs for summer

Fall has come; frost on the apples and car windshields, rainstorms without thunder, and yellow leaves on every third cottonwood or so along my commute. Most notably, the co-eds at my big public university have pulled out their Uggs. Now, this is my first semester on a 50,000 student campus and, after three years at tiny liberal arts schools with strong academics, the 'Greek' culture and diverse student body cracks me up on a daily basis. Uggs are no exception to this rule.

Now, don't get me wrong; I wear Uggs. They're comfy! And in deep snow, they're warm and semi-functional. I even have a hideous army-green pair with brass buckles and fake 'pockets'. But my ownership of said fashion atrocities should be very telling in how seriously I take myself when I wear my Uggs- not at all. I've always thought those pictures of Hollywood starlets in Uggs and mini dresses, occasionally with some colorful stockings or a fur hat, are pretty damn hilarious. What is the point of big ugly sweaty boots when it's not freezing cold? Apparently, the Aussies agree. The inventors of Uggs shake their heads and laugh at how sloppy Americans dress, wearing house slippers outside! Yes, folks: Uggs are Australian house slippers.

On to my wonderful wildlife spotting of yesterday- Rush Week freshman in fuchsia sweat-suit and Uggs.

I've seated myself halfway up, in the middle of the row for my 360+ person lecture and am trying to convince myself waking up and driving to campus will be worth it come exam time when this Sarah Palin-esk voice screeches, "Walker! Walker! Walker! Walker!" A boy right in front of me strands up and raises an arm in salute. She finally notices him and enters my view screaming, "Walker! Sit with me! Walker! Come here! Sit next to me!" Before she seats herself a few chairs in front and to the left of me, I notice her black fuzzy Uggs. Moving up from there, I observed bright fuchsia valour sweatpants with 'Sexy' written up the leg. On top, she has layered a black zip-up sweatshirt with a white faux-fur hood over a perfectly matching fuchsia hoody over a black lacy cami. Her dark hair is straightened, pulled back into an annoyingly perfect bun and held flat on top by a thick, clothe, black headband. She has a cartilage piercing in her right ear with a small silver ring-with-ball, long fake Frenched nails, and pink rhinestones glued to her planner (which has 'Pink by Victoria's Secret' scrawled across it) and iclicker (the radio clickers we use to 'participate' in huge lectures like this). I wanted to take a picture for my sister, but I couldn't think of a way to do so without obviously making fun of her, especially since I was rockin' the camo trucker hat and 'Ride Copper' hoody over paint-stained jeans and muddy hiking boots. Not likely that I'm complimenting her or wanting to use her outfit to help me dress better...

But, her outfit totally made my day.