Posts Tagged ‘app’

A New Experience

April 10, 2018

“Would you care for any tea or water while you wait,” I was asked as I checked in today at the One Medical office at 10th and Irving.

That was not a question I was expecting.

Nor the lush quiet, the lounge furniture which was modern and clean and the waiting area that was sunny and vibrant with plants.

I was also not expecting the bathrooms.

Well fucking done.

Big, clean, stocked with feminine hygiene products and condoms.

That’s right.

The lighting was low and soft.

The music was unobtrusive.

And.

The doctor was on time.

There was no wait.

I was seen at the time of my appointment and escorted back to a really clean, well-appointed, tech heavy exam room.

My doctor was great, attentive, sympathetic, eager to help me out.

I mean.

I have not had this experience ever with a facility.

And it was in such stark contrast to the shit show offices I have been seen in recently that it was almost a shock, I thought I was on a movie set for rich people with good insurance.

It was a lovely shock.

I am super grateful that I signed up for the service.

And that my employers paid for the membership fee.

Granted I did not get what I wanted, which was a solution right fucking now to the reflux and the discomfort I have been experiencing, but I got an immediate referral to a GI specialist at Sutter Health.

In fact.

My doctor assured me that not only would I not have to figure out whom to go to, I wasn’t going to have to figure out if said GI accepted my insurance, the administrative team would take care of figuring that out for me.

He recommended I download the One Medical App on my phone, which I did, and ping!

In coming message right there.

“We’re very tech heavy here, you can do everything from you phone and the app, you can e-mail, make appointments, get your referrals, get refills on medications, the app will make it really easy for you to use the facilities,” he relayed to me as he was taking my history.

I gave him a very thorough history of what has been happening with the reflux and he did say that I needed to be seen by a GI, but that he also wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anything that could be possibly missing in the picture.

He also covered ground I have already gone over, what foods to avoid, smoking, drinking, weight loss etc.

He said that though there was nothing wrong with my weight there might be some room for weight loss which could alleviate some of the symptoms, but that what he was hearing was that it needed to be addressed faster than reasonable weight loss, if that was the only thing that was needed, to rectify the reflux.

And.

I’ve lost 4 more pounds since the last time I saw a doctor.

I was really surprised.

I know I haven’t been eating as much, but I was really surprised.

I don’t feel like I’ve lost weight, although there is a bit of a difference in my face, because I have been experiencing some bloating with the reflux and my stomach constantly feels full even when it’s not.

I have to maintain an eating plan as a part of my food recovery but truth is I have been eating less, I have been entirely skipping my evening snack now for two weeks, and I have been eating a lot more salads as they are supposed to help with the reflux.

Though honestly, nothing has.

The diet changes have done jack shit.

And I relayed that as well, but he still did a very in-depth look at what was going on.

He let me know that as a member of One Medical I would get two free full physical exams each year and another service which I’m not remembering right now.

I’ve been scheduled to go in for that in May.

The doctor whose office I was referred to will be contacting me tomorrow to set up an appointment.

I am going to ask for the soonest they have and hopefully get in really quick.

My new doctor also prescribed a different reflux medicine which I have taken today.

No real difference from what I was already taking, but I’ll keep trying it and we’ll see what happens.

Over all it was a really good experience and I am so grateful to not have to go back to see the doctors that I was before.

I am still experiencing the reflux pretty badly today, but I feel relieved to be on the right road to addressing it and to have a team behind me that really was all about customer service, being helpful, and making sure that my needs are being taken care of.

The doctor had great bed side manner and he told me that I could explore finding other primary care providers, but I said, no, I wanted to work with him, he was comfortable, I didn’t feel any weirdness, he was respectful, and he’d done such a compassionate job of listening to me express the discomfort that I was in, there was no need to find a different doctor.

Very happy with One Medical.

Very, very, very.

Now, fingers crossed I get into the GI quickly and get the situation taken care of.

I am ready for more relief.

Seriously.

I’m Not Going To Kiss

April 25, 2016

You.

I said, direct, emphatic, no holds bar.

He startled back.

Thank God.

I was a little unnerved when he just hopped up, uninvited, be sure there was no come hither flirtations coming from me, and sat right next to me, arms, shoulders, legs brushing.

I know it’s a Tinder date and I suppose there is sex implied in the app, that’s apparent, and there’s a whole lot of fantasy, but I’m pretty up front with what I am or am not looking for.

And making a coffee date for three in the afternoon speaks to me of interviewing, not jumping right off into bed.

I had some nerves about the date, and that’s a good thing to note, I have begun to discern when I am balking at meeting someone or going on a date, versus, nope, you’re guts telling you it’s not a good date.

I’ve had the feeling before and this was the same thing.

Just not an appropriate date.

A mismatch.

Although he was very happy to meet me, said I looked great, was cute, had great style, was definitely intrigued by my tattoos.

However.

The constant interruptions when I was speaking, the jumping around, the distractedness of him, was well distracting.

I sort of felt like I was on a date with someone who was very ADHD.

Or high.

I wondered later after I left if perhaps that was it.

I can only speculate, but I was uncomfortable and also not attracted to the man.

Although his photos were pretty true to person, there was just something not there for me.

Sometimes the chemistry is so obvious for me, I can feel it oozing out of every pore of my body.

There are some I have had such intense chemistry with, it does feel electric and that is some snazziness, let me tell you.

This guy was just super flat for me, there was no juice.

And he ordered a beer and yeah, we hadn’t, as he pointed out later, had the talk about me being sober, I know this is true and I realize that I put it out there pretty quick with most guys on the dating app, but I had not with him.

My bad.

And also, in it’s own way, my recovery gave me the perfect out when the date started to get pretty fresh with me and my space.

I’m still sort of in awe of someone who did not see how completely uninterested I was, how does one miss that?  I mean, I was not giving out a single signal of interest with my bound up body language and crossed arms and legs.

But.

I suppose folks just see what folks want to see.

We did swap a few tales and spent an hour talking.

We each told about some bad dates.

My homeless guy date came up.

His ex-girlfriend he met in rehab for an opiate pain killer addiction after a gnarly accident who was a crystal meth addict, they met in rehab.

All my hackles went up.

I looked at the beer in front of him, empty glass, the packet of cigarettes in his front pocket–um no thanks I don’t smoke, haven’t for nearly 11 years and ain’t about to kiss an ashtray mouth–a shit, this is not good.

So.

When he made a suggestion, implicit again with this idea that because I had been on Tinder I was ready and willing to drop trow and get it on.

Sure.

Maybe.

If there had been some heat or chemistry, that could have been on the menu, even though the menu that was on my mind had to do with all the time I was wasting on the date instead of on my school books.

Not to worry though, once I dropped the “I’m not going to kiss you,” bomb, the date rapidly dissolved.

I took the “easy” way out and said that I didn’t want to taste beer when I kissed someone.

Which is true.

But I have dated normal guys who drink occasionally, how do they do that? And I haven’t had an issue with it, it was just more that I really wasn’t attracted and the beer drinking on top of the story about the ex-girlfriend crazy just sealed the deal.

“You know, you should expect this kind of response if you’re going to keep using Tinder,” he told me as we were parting.

I stopped.

I looked at him.

I apologized.

“You’re right, I should have been upfront,” I said, making the quickest, fastest amends I could, he was right, I did waste his time, he was looking for a good time party girl to come into the city to play with and I wasn’t it.

I had wasted his time and mine.

I did add, though, “it hasn’t been my experience that it’s an issue, that’s why I usually ask to meet in a cafe for tea, but I hear you and you are right.”

“You can go,” he said to me.

Whoa.

“Ok, thanks for coming out, I wish you the best,” I got up, touched his shoulder and walked out.

Ouch.

Well.

Human, Carmen, little mistakes are better than big mistakes, you went you found out, you got to hear a little bit of what you don’t want and perhaps I can be less blunt, I was just getting worried about getting to a place where I could say, I don’t think this is working, I don’t have to blurt it out.

So.

Chalk it up to another dating experience.

Just out there trying to learn how to do this thing that I have no clue how to do very well, but at least I know a little bit more from today than I did yesterday.

It’s all good information.

Not a bat to beat myself up with.

I tried.

It didn’t work.

And.

Now.

I’m just moving on.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Yes.

I have another date.

This time emphatically.

Just for tea.

 

 

Rejection Is God’s Protection

March 23, 2016

Maybe it’s the full moon.

Who knows.

But the date I was supposed to go on cancelled very last minute and it put an odd taste in my mouth.

Tinder fail number four.

Le sigh.

Full transparency.

I don’t need to be on Tinder.

I’m doing pretty good on my own.

In fact.

I turned off the app again.

My person was right.

There is nothing wrong with the app, but I also know when something doesn’t work for me and this is not working.  It was fun.  It was titillating.  It was and appears to really just to be about fantasy.

And.

Well.

This lady has had enough of fantasy.

I like the real deal.

The smash me into the man deal, the full on kiss, the I want you, you’re sexy.

I can have that.

I am aware of my needs and the TInder and the OkStupid, again, I come back to this again, haven’t cut the mustard with me.

It’s fun.

To a point.

Then it seems.

I don’t know futile.

I was actually a little relieved when he cancelled.

I have had plenty on my plate this week and I’m finally feeling like my cold is passing.

A little lingering cough in the morning.

I figure one more day of sleeping in and I will have the little fucker kicked to the curb.

I’m planning on hitting the yoga studio on Thursday and get back into the flow of that again.

I have missed it.

The being in my body, the stretching, the achey muscles.

Yeah.

Ha.

I’m ready for sore muscles.

Too funny.

Full moon.

Spotting this morning.

Ovulated yesterday.

But not the full on roaring hormonal monster that had me in its clutches last month.

Just a normal cycle.

The moon though.

Have you seen it?

Magic in the sky.

I imagine it descending over the ocean and how it will paint the sand dunes white and silver with its light.

Splendid and alive in the sky.

Or perhaps just in my imagination.

A luminous pearl in the velvet sky.

Yes.

I can feel that I am doing better.

My head feels clear.

My heart feels clear.

A touch sad now and again.

But I have that love of richness, that emotion, deep and true and yes occasionally indigo blue jean blue, but so sweet and tender and alive, that I don’t mind.

I have had so many feelings, tender and vulnerable, strong and flexible.

I do feel that I’m coming out of something.

A little darkness and mourning.

And by perfecting my heart truly/I got lost in the sounds.

The opening of the crocus pushing it’s way through the soil, dark, and at first impenetrable, then, the flower bud plunges up and out and unfurls and yes.

I am like that flower.

Fresh as a daisy.

Silly and sunny.

Sexy.

Back to myself.

Out of the dark.

Into the blue.

The sky blue.

The light of day.

It don’t hurt that the rain stopped falling.

A break in the rain.

A reprieve from the storm.

The orchid on my night stand table has bloomed again.

Five times now since I have been here, I bought it the first week I moved into the studio.

Not bad.

It always seems to bloom at an opportune time for me to self-reflect, to see the purity that comes from the gnarled and twisted roots and the glory that faces into the sun and blossoms there from the ungainly and the knots of green.

I remember to not force the blooms.

To not rip open the petals because I want the full beauty.

There is beauty in every stage of the development.

Just like there is with me, with dating, with romance, with love and loving myself and learning what works and what doesn’t.

And not judging myself when I don’t bloom out as fully as I expected.

Sometimes the flowers on the orchid are six, seven, eight blooms.

This time around there were only two.

Yet.

The simple divine flowers floating in the air are such tender white magical things that I cannot imagine that there needs to be anything more.

I don’t need anything more.

Look at all I have.

My simple life.

My sweet space down by the sea.

My dear friends.

My good job.

My school.

I get to live this life, I get to revel in it.

I get to roll around in it and not take it so seriously and lighten up and go out and put myself out on a limb and take chances and change.

Open the door and meet the welcome face there.

Be swept up into the moment and taken along for the duration of the song, carried away, caught for a moment in the in between moment.

The twixt and the tween and see that here too, is still another way to go.

A softening and letting go.

A sweetness and surrender.

Everything must come and go.

Yes.

That too.

So seize the moment, let the life in front of you be joyous, full, and alive.

Being awake is sometimes a tender place to be, but I’m no good checked out, and I’m not good when I am in fantasy.

I am good here.

In this reality.

With all my vulnerabilities and mistakes and terrors.

The fear it fades.

The sun it warms me as I walk towards it.

And the flowers bloom on their own with out me forcing them to open before their time.

There is no there there.

I am the party.

I am the girl.

No.

I am the woman.

And this is my life.

I’m going to keep having fun and dancing in the hallways and crying on the yoga mat.

I’m going to keep showing up.

Going where I must.

And letting go of thinking I know where it should go.

It’s all the same road anyhow.

Even if I often choose the one less taken.

I bet they all end in the same place.

I don’t need to know my destination.

I just know that I’m on the right path.

Free.

Silly.

Joyous.

Heart on my sleeve.

Happy.

 

It’s Not The App

March 7, 2016

It’s you.

That is a direct quote.

I was sharing something with my person about the frustrations of online dating and then I said something, for the life of me (unconsciously don’t want to embarrass myself?) I cannot remember exactly what I said, but I basically blamed Tinder for my inability to score a date.

“It’s not the app, it’s you,” she said again.

I know, I know.

Cue a lot of school reading today, a lot of introspection, and a lot of writing.

The normal writing I do, every morning, although I did have a different tack today than typical.

I found myself waking up with my alarm and feeling that instead of taking the time to make breakfast and do my morning pages, the thing to do would be to get up and go right to the yoga class at 9 a.m. instead of the one I had signed up for at 10:30 a.m.

I wasn’t hungry, I had a late snack last night with my tea and I knew that if I did eat breakfast and go to the class I might feel a little bogged down with the oatmeal in my body.

So.

I hopped up, striped my bed–Sunday is bed sheet day, fresh sheets are a must to start off the we–drank some water, brushed my teeth, threw my hair up into a messy bun, re-made my bed with clean sheets, read some stuff, said some stuff, drank a quick shot of iced coffee with unsweetened vanilla almond milk and strolled the 1/2 block to Yoga Beach for the Vinyasa Flow class.

Today was my 9th day of yoga.

I have been going for fifteen days.

Not bad.

And I recognized the yoga instructor!

An acquaintance from the hood who I had no idea worked at the studio.

“I was wondering when I would see you here!” He said with a big smile.

I told him that it was class number 9 and I was pretty into it, although very humbled by the experience.

I have also been enjoying the feeling in my body though, of length, of my core getting stronger, of not losing the bicycle muscle I have in my legs, my hips have been feeling looser, not so tight, and my knees have also felt better.

And yes.

Thank you ego for the reminder.

I’ve lost a little weight.

Not the goal, but a nice side benefit.

Mostly from the exercise I presume, but also I have noticed a distinct tendency to eat even cleaner than I typically do.

Yes, that is kale in my fridge.

The class was good and I actually was able to do one of the poses that the first time I saw it demonstrated I was like, um, no.

Except.

Today.

Well.

I just did it.

It wasn’t a big deal move, I’m not standing on my head or anything, but it was fun to see myself stretch and try for something that just a week ago seemed intimidating and impossible.

Sometimes great change can happen quickly.

I just have to be flexible to the situation when things happen.

I left the studio with an open heart and a great deal of gratitude.

I walked past a huddle of neighbors on a stoop outside smoking cigarettes and lounging in the only real sun the day was to have, with some humor in my heart.

I used to be that girl on the front porch steps smoking cigarettes and hanging with the boys.

Not anymore.

Nope.

Today I was the girl all blissed out with the yoga mat in her bag strolling home to eat a bowl of organic oatmeal and apples with blueberries.

Heh.

“Just getting out of yoga?” One of the guys asked and drew on his cigarette, “down the block, Yoga Beach, right, they just opened, yeah.”

“Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago,” I said and smiled, we all silently acknowledged the humor of the moment, two bros and a gal smoking in the sun, obviously all a touch hung over.

“Gotta check that out, you know, soon, ease it in the schedule,” he smiled.

I patted the dog lolling in front of the stoop, “you should, it’s great,” and I walked home happy and a tiny bit incredulous to be this woman who gets up and goes to yoga before eating a healthy breakfast and doing fabulous self-care.

Said self-care meant also not re-employing the dating app on my phone.

This is not to say that I might not or that I may not go back to OkCupid.

I had a really enlightening day about it yesterday from not just my person’s viewpoint, but also from another woman.

Ironically, the woman who saw me walk down to cafe.

They both intimated that it was a job, it would take work, that it would not be without effort and I realized how much I had expected, in some odd ball kind of way, without really realizing it, that I wanted fairy tale pixie dust magic with the damn thing.

Instantaneous gratification.

Which on one hand there is the illusion there to it.

But.

On the other.

It’s not the app, it’s me.

Cue all the reading for school and the paper I wrote, second one in the weekend!

I realized some things, other than some discomfort to see that I was great at dating narcissists, border line personalities, and where I had negative counter transference in a variety of work and personal relationships.

Yeesh.

It was intense to read it and also to know that knowledge of self does not always avail me.

But taking different actions certainly does.

So when I wanted to use the app I did not re-install it, because it would have been avoidance of doing the school work that I needed to do–checking out through fantasy.

However.

I also see the benefits of trying again.

Pick myself up and try again.

The change is not the app, the change is me.

How I see the world, how I operate, how I move in it.

And learn, accept, forgive, and grow.

I don’t know that I’m going to find true love on Tinder or Match.com or OKCupid or Bumble or Hinge or Facebook or Myspace.

Ok.

That last one might have been reaching, but I think you understand the gist.

That being said.

I won’t also find it if I don’t try.

Those things worth having are worth working for.

I am not afraid of the work.

And I’m not too busy to do it.

When I say I’m too busy, that’s me pushing you out of my life.

I can, however, know what my needs are and if I need to study I can refrain from engaging with the dating, but if I need to have some fun and try getting out of my comfort zone.

Well.

I’m going to damn it.

Because I’m worth it and I deserve to be happy.

No man will ever complete me, but I do believe that some one may well be my companion and my compliment.

That is something to strive for.

And to continue to lighten up.

Take it easy.

And laugh at myself.

There’s a good few chuckles in there to be had.

Seriously.

More than a few.

Heh.

Sometimes I Wonder

March 4, 2016

About that blog of yours.

A friend of mine said today after I explained why I wanted to vomit and had been crying all morning.

Nobody wants to wake up to an alarm.

But I would have happily.

Except nope.

My internal alarm went off five minutes before my alarm went off.

I had a hard time falling asleep and I used a little vibrating help to put me down, then slept all the way through until 8:25 a.m.

I looked at my phone to check the time.

I saw a few texts.

I rubbed my eyes.

I stared at the little tiny letters.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck my life.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCFUCKFUCK.

Aw.

Man.

“Did you now your IG account links to your blog?”

“Glad you ‘gave it the old college try’.”

Oh fuck me people.

He read the blog.

He found the blog.

I am an asshole.

ASSHOLE.

Cue why I should never date.

No wait.

Cue to why I should never write about other people when I am mad at myself.

I wasn’t nice to dude and dude found out.

Dude did I feel awful, I’m not excusing my actions, I’m just going to write about what’s been on my mind all day, because that’s what I do.

“You really put it all out there,” a friend of mine said once, “that’s what makes it so good to read, but you know, I get worried about you sometimes,” he said with a look.

“I mean, I can’t write about the stuff you put out there, I just can’t,” he paused, “I’m glad you do, but you sure as shit put your heart on your sleeve.”

Yeah.

I do.

And I was sad and mad at myself this morning, I took out my frustrations about myself and my inability to ask for what I need or to say, hey, this isn’t working for me, thanks for coming out, I’m glad to have met.”

Because part of it was a lot of fun, the texting, the flirting, it inured my little heart for a while.

My starving, foolish, idiotic heart that doesn’t want to feel all the feels, so yeah, let’s check out with a little text flirtation.

Harmless, right?

Except then I poured some gasoline on the bonfire of my vanity.

I have absolutely no leg to stand on.

I hurt someone’s feelings and I was told.

Ugh.

How do I get myself in scrapes like this?

I wasn’t honest.

I wasn’t up front right away.

Instead of a moment of discomfort, instead of saying, hey, you know, maybe not the best match after all, I just played along like nothing was happening, like it was all good, all fine.

I basically fucking lied.

“Oh my God, you look great,” she said to me as I bumped into her on the street heading down to the scene of the crime last night.

“I’m heading to a first date,” I said, “I’m nervous.”

“You look great! He’s not good enough for you,” she laughed, “it’s an interview, not a date! Have fun!”

Turns out I wasn’t good enough for him.

I did, however, make amends.

Oh humility, isn’t there a better way to get to thee?

I mean, yeah, there is, you’re honest right from the get go, instead of stifling it, you address it, by “you” I mean of course, “me.”

I have to change, I have to become better, I hate that I was awful to this man.

I really thought I was a better person, nope, just another asshole on a dating app.

App, if you didn’t already read yesterday’s missive, has been deleted.

I shouldn’t online date, I probably shouldn’t date at all, I keep fucking it up.

Focus on myself, focus on yoga, focus on work, recovery, my job, school.

Or.

I could also say, hey, chalk it up, you made a mistake, yes, you hurt someone, but you don’t have to do it again and I won’t.

That’s the thing, this will not happen again.

I immediately made phone calls, I checked in with my people, I wrote two separate inventories and made those phone calls.

I got one immediate answer, “you absolutely owe him an amends, you hurt his feelings, I’ll call you back in a few.”

Ugh.

Fuck.

More tears.

And a sick stomach.

I wanted to throw up.

Note to self, trust your body, if it doesn’t feel right, that’s your barometer, use it.

I drank some water, put on my kettle, made some coffee, I started to boil an egg, but I actually felt sick thinking about eating it.

I confirmed my yoga class and sat down and really wrote.

I had a great phone call back from a girl friend and she helped me hash it out.

I went to yoga and I did not die.

But fuck, I cried on the mat.

I let it go, I got into the poses, I dashed to the bathroom and honked my nose hard and cleared it and got back on the mat.

By the time the class was over I felt better.

I saw some light in the day.

I got home, intercepted a text from one of my people, took a hot shower, threw laundry in the wash, and made breakfast.

I dressed, got my scooter ready, and went to work.

I worked.

I showed up.

I cleaned and laundered and stripped beds and made food and I sat in the knowledge of what I had done and how it had affected me and this other person and what I could have done different, what I should have done instead.

I got the call back right before I was sitting down to have dinner with my instructions to the amends.

I got off the phone, but on an audio story for the boys, made sure they were set up with their dinners, kissed them both and walked into the front room to make the call.

He answered on the first ring.

Oh holy fuck.

“Hey, _____________,  I just wanted to call and let you know I realize that my actions hurt you and I apologize, it was not my intention to do so, I am sorry.”

He said thanks for calling, he accepted my apology.

I asked if there was anything else I could do, he said no, I said, again, my apologies, please take good care. And hung up.

I think that’s called “adulting.”

Fuck.

I didn’t want to write about it, but there it is, I don’t know how to write about anything but my fucking self, I’m my best, worst material, I am my worst enemy.

I love my little blog, but I will not use it as a mass weapon of destruction.

So.

I got to keep it clean.

I have to keep my side of the street clean.

That’s the best I got today.

I still feel a bit rotten about it, but I also know that not forgiving myself, and oh, the insights I have gotten to see in myself today, better days come around, get better, get better, better days come around get better.

Sun, sun, sun, will come up now.

My insights, too much to put down right now because I do not want to misconstrue anyone with the idea that there was anything wrong with the other person, this shit all falls right in my lap.

I didn’t like going through it, but I have seen what I needed to see and I will be better.

I will.

I promise.

I can’t go through that again.

I just can’t.

Grateful that tomorrow is a new day for me to be a better woman.

I am going to do better.

I just am.

 


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