When I introduce myself to new people, 9 times out of 10 I have to repeat myself. If someone makes me repeat myself more than 2 or 3 times, I usually say, "Addie. Subtractie...get it?" If they are smart, they do. If they are not, sign language for addition and subtraction usually does the trick.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Its been awhile

I've always enjoyed updating this blog, but the last year has been...interesting. A couple unexpected moves and 6 months later we finally settled into the sweetest little house in West Seattle (as of August...yeah it has been awhile). Its our (or my) first adventure living alone, without roommates or a significant other.

It has been such a rewarding experience. Finally, we have had the oppportunity to settle into a routine that is just for us. Mom and daughter. I probably would have been updating this blog a buttload in the last 7 months if it werent for a small internet. Or cable for that matter.

Yes, we are living in the dark ages.

I figured we could give it a shot, just see how that would go, and its been suprisingly wonderful. Its just so...quiet, relaxing. Gracie may watch a cartoon dvd in the evening before bed; however other than that, we listen to music, read books, and just veg out and unwind at the end of the day.

All this being said, the tides may be changing in the very new future.

Work has become more demanding in the last 7 months and "sometimes" requires some effort from home. Oh joy.

But in addition to that, I have seriously been aching to write. Not just on this silly little blog, but to get back into what I have always loved to do. At one point, I wasn't half bad at it. Months go by without even a trace of it, and I am afraid I've lost it. Not forever. But my brain is so hard-wired now to operate in the claims world. Abbreviations. Half sentences. Acronyms. I have completely forgotten how to write about anything other than summarizing chart notes, action plans, investigations, etc. Blah blah blah. Its sucking my brain dry of the ability to write as I used to. English major no more. Claim's Adjuster II. Woop woop! Not.

Ever since I was a little girl, writing has given me an outlet, a sense of fulfillment that nothing else does. I'm determined to get back at it. Maybe it will help restore some of my lost sanity in this claims nightmare I've been sucked into the last year and a half. Okay, its not necessarily hell in a cubicle. But really, it wears on you.

Of course there are many perks to this job: autonomy, benefits, flexibility, a guarantee to continue to advance within the company, etc.

The most rewarding is the ability to help those who really need and deserve it. I have learned so much from these voices at the other end of the line; Men and women I develop relationships with solely over the phone. At at time in their lives when they are hurting, scared about their recovery, going through exhausting treatments, I have the privelage to help them. Explain the process, the benefits they are owed, and to help them understand certain setbacks that may be coming their way - at no fault to them or myself. Its just the way WC claims work. It is extremely rewarding to help them understand and give them some peace of mind that everything will work out. More often than not, it does. If only all the other requirements I have would allow me the time I need to give to these people. Thats the challenge. The constant balancing act.

Ok, who wants to talk about work on a Saturday morning? The point is, I need internet. Not just to work the x amount of overtime hours that are necessary to keep my head above water...but for me. I NEED TO WRITE. Internet isn't REQUIRED to write. I just prefer it.

Next post will be an update on my one and only, Gracie Mae. Not for any of my million followers - ya know, all 3 of them. But for me. For her. I love looking back on my older posts and reading about what that little nugget was up to at that time in her life. Its a snapshot into those memories I have of her. They get foggy with time. Its kind of like a slap in the face when I see how little she was. How she gibber gabbered. And then talked. And then developed the addie-tude.

My baby is not a baby. Repeat. My baby is not a baby. She's going to freaking pre-school in the fall. At a REAL school. Waaaaaaaa. But I'll save all my motherly denials and self-realizations for the next time.