I would just like to note that the last post was me on birth control. I get very weepy very often for no reason. This is bad. On the good side I am already losing tons of weight. So I don't really know how to feel.
blah.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
whine, bitch, moan, complain.
I found out there is a cyst on my right ovary that may need surgical removal. I'm trying not to freak out because it could just go away and not need any medical attention but if I fucking have to have surgery I'm going to flip my shit. I don't want to spend anymore time in the fucking hospital.
I am super lonely feeling right now.
I feel like I don't have a lot of friends (which is possibly the most ridiculous thing I could say, but I mean super close friends who I one hundred percent trust with my emotions) right now and it's really hard and it's really lonely.
Being grownup is one of the hardest things I've ever had to learn and it's weathering me so quickly and as cliched as this is life is short and I don't want to waste the increasingly shortening hours of my youth trying to learn how to be a grown up.
I'm tired of being tired all the time. My body is tired of hearing about what's wrong with it and why it can't do things.
I'm also tired of feeling like a failure. Comparing myself to everybody else who is smarter than me, and more talented than me, or more attractive than me, or better liked than me, or doing something way cooler with their life than me. But I'm too fucking lazy to fix any of it.
This is just me complaining. I'm actually doing rather well compared to the past lots of months.
I am super lonely feeling right now.
I feel like I don't have a lot of friends (which is possibly the most ridiculous thing I could say, but I mean super close friends who I one hundred percent trust with my emotions) right now and it's really hard and it's really lonely.
Being grownup is one of the hardest things I've ever had to learn and it's weathering me so quickly and as cliched as this is life is short and I don't want to waste the increasingly shortening hours of my youth trying to learn how to be a grown up.
I'm tired of being tired all the time. My body is tired of hearing about what's wrong with it and why it can't do things.
I'm also tired of feeling like a failure. Comparing myself to everybody else who is smarter than me, and more talented than me, or more attractive than me, or better liked than me, or doing something way cooler with their life than me. But I'm too fucking lazy to fix any of it.
This is just me complaining. I'm actually doing rather well compared to the past lots of months.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
this is where our daughter or gay son will sleep
ohhhhhh man. Watching Glee again. It's too much awesomeness. Like I should be in bed now resting up for work at 6 in the mo, but how can I not watch gorgeous SUPER TALL Cory Monteith belt out Journey at the top of his lungs, and listen to Lea Michele sing with her INCREDIBLY FANTASTIC GORGEOUS VOICE. Holy fuck, I could listen to her sing one hundred percent of the time. I'm not going to go on a whole spiel about it, but for realz, this girl has the most incredible voice.
Rachel: You're very talented.
Finn: Really?
Rachel: I would know. I'm very talented too.
AHHHHH! LOVE GLEE!
Anyways. I don't really have much to say about my life. I'm doing pretty good. Except my stupid uterus is limiting the things that I can do. It sucks. Here is a lllllllist:
1. Bathe. I can shower. But I can't bathe and I can't go swimming in the pool or the ocean (oh god, I shudder at the thought of all the infection I could get from the ocean).
2. Wear tampons. I cannot wear a tampon until my next period, and normally, not such a big deal because I would only be bleeding on week of the month, but OH SO FUNNY, stil bleeding clots and bacteria crap out, FOR TWO AND A HALF WEEKS! So yeah, I have to deal with nasty pads until next weekend.
3. Exercise. It's exhausting and it makes my penis muscles (the ones that would lead down to my penis would be if I had one. I don't know what those are called) sooooo tired.
4. Have sex. This one sucks the most. It hurt so bad. It was like being a virgin again but worse because my muscles were exhausted afterwards and I was weird and crampy. I expected this but it still sucks. COME ON! WHY CAN'T I JUST GET BACK TO ENJOYING SEX?
Anyways. I'm fine, I'm actually quite good. And I'm feeling a lot more okay looking (as I have felt super ugly for the past two months) and my weight is dropping again, so yay!
For the most part, I'm feeling pretty okay. And okay is good. Okay is very good.
AND GLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
<3
ciao
Rachel: You're very talented.
Finn: Really?
Rachel: I would know. I'm very talented too.
AHHHHH! LOVE GLEE!
Anyways. I don't really have much to say about my life. I'm doing pretty good. Except my stupid uterus is limiting the things that I can do. It sucks. Here is a lllllllist:
1. Bathe. I can shower. But I can't bathe and I can't go swimming in the pool or the ocean (oh god, I shudder at the thought of all the infection I could get from the ocean).
2. Wear tampons. I cannot wear a tampon until my next period, and normally, not such a big deal because I would only be bleeding on week of the month, but OH SO FUNNY, stil bleeding clots and bacteria crap out, FOR TWO AND A HALF WEEKS! So yeah, I have to deal with nasty pads until next weekend.
3. Exercise. It's exhausting and it makes my penis muscles (the ones that would lead down to my penis would be if I had one. I don't know what those are called) sooooo tired.
4. Have sex. This one sucks the most. It hurt so bad. It was like being a virgin again but worse because my muscles were exhausted afterwards and I was weird and crampy. I expected this but it still sucks. COME ON! WHY CAN'T I JUST GET BACK TO ENJOYING SEX?
Anyways. I'm fine, I'm actually quite good. And I'm feeling a lot more okay looking (as I have felt super ugly for the past two months) and my weight is dropping again, so yay!
For the most part, I'm feeling pretty okay. And okay is good. Okay is very good.
AND GLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
<3
ciao
Monday, February 15, 2010
can anybody find me sombody to love?
I hate my body. It hates me. We hate each other and are always trying to fuck each other up in funny ways. So what, I didn't eat for like two years straight, I apologized and have fully made up for it by eating lots and lots as much as I can in the past four years. Plus I was good to you before that. Yeah whatever, I was really into the drugs for a while but I'm off that for now, and who knows if I'll ever go back. Why can't you just fucking heal yourself and stop hating me so much. Yeah okay, you fought hard and won, barely, but won the war to stay alive and some semblance of healthy while I starved you, but I gave you the rest you needed and I fought as hard as I could for no relapse, and look, I hardly relapse. I don't think you can even call it relapse, sometimes the uncontrollable angst you throw at me stops me form having and appetite. Quite different wouldn't you say? You got your point across in the years before and after (but especially after) that that you can't control the chemicals in my brain anymore and that GIANT ANGST ATTACKS will follow me, probably my entire life. Yeah I lost a significant amount of weight that almost everyone notices, including my regulars at work, my parents, and yeah, my very best friend who usually keeps his mouth closed and eyes down on issues like this (and I am really sorry for that night, because we both know that night was the night that I really did fuck you up), but hey, I'm trying. Instead of spending all my money on liquor and drugs and clothes and bar cover, I'm buying you food. And yeah I really messed up with my poor judgment and turning of my cheek, but hey WHY THE FUCK DID IT HAVE TO END UP IN FUCKING MINOR MEDICAL APPOINTMENT AND THEN, A COUPLE DAYS LATER, A FUCKING INNER BODY INFECTION THAT LANDED ME A FEVER OF 105 AND IN THE HOSPITAL FOR THREE DAYS, CRYING, SCARED, CONFUSED, FUCKING DOPED UP ON MORPHINE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME, STUCK WITH NEEDLES THAT HAVE LEFT DISGUSTING ABUSIVE LOOKING BRUISES, BLEEDING OUT CHUNKS OF BACTERIA (so gross, sorry for that), THROWING UP, PARTIALLY FROM BEING SICK, PARTIALLY FROM MORPHINE BACKUP, THE BIGGEST PANIC ATTACK OF MY LIFE THAT ENDED IN ASKING FOR A DOUBLE DOSE OF MORPHINE ONLY SO I COULD SLEEP, AND, AND, AND, the most loneliness I have ever felt in my entire life. ever. The most alone. The most cut off, and insignificant and uncared about. ever. WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME???
Why can you and why can't I just come to an agreement. Why can't we become a we instead of a you and me? Because I think that then I could heal, and you could heal, and then there will be waaaaaaaay less problems. Maybe not.
I'm going to apologize for the profuse longevity of this post. I'm going to continue to write about my past awfulness of the last train wreck of a week.
So we start here,
SUNDAY NIGHT: Anxious, crying, trying not to cry and be strong, confronting feelings I've never had before but mostly just feeling lost and confused and stupid. Also, sick. I am very sick. Luckily, the wonderful Hannah offers me her house, as an escape from mine, which at this point I am scared of being in. The rest of the night is pretty okay, movie watching, talking with Hannah, one of my most comforting people in the world.
MONDAY: I'm sick as balls, nervous, upset, crying, anxious, and then, totally out of it, with Hannah being my only anchor to proper reality. More illness, OH HEY my period showed up, HEY HEY HEY, and some semblance of proper reality, and then sleep. Lots and lots of really weird sleep with really really weird dreams (a close of bananas for like two hours? huh?). Waking up to Hannah setting out food for me, Hannah feeding me, Hannah hugging me, Hannah being just generally the best person in the world and keeping me safe. Then, feeling better. Way better like, sort of out of it, but able to grasp concepts now, be sociable. Caleb and Ben, two personal favorites of mine stop by to give Hannah relief time from the mess and shit pile that is me. Caleb takes over, and I mostly fall asleep again. Lily, Claire, Jos, and Kay all stop by, the boys leave. I'm feeling mostly up to par and like these people so by bed time, other than being fucking exhausted, am feeling way more elated. This giddy feeling starts to form as I fall asleep.
TUESDAY: Overstayed my stay at Hannah's. She says not but that's how I feel. I take off early, shower, eat a little, Caleb comes over, but has been at a work meeting since 6 so he just sleeps. Watch some TV, but I'm still feeling woozy so I just nap all day. Literally all day, then watch a whack load of bad TV and go to bed, alarm set, ready for work the next day.
WEDNESDAY: Started out so good. Got shit loads of sleep for work, was happy and perky at work all day, and Jodi, my super amazing ASM, was fantastic with me. Went home, literally grab my computer lay down on the couch with my saltines and watch The Vampire Diaries (new favorite show, so bad, but oh so addictive. There is literally not one unattractive person. They are all GORGEOUS TIMES A BILLION). But I can't sleep no matter how tired I am. I start to get cold, really chilly, and then I'm shaking pretty uncontrollably. I start to get nervous cause I've never had a fever this bad, but I chalk it up to exhaustion. Try to call in sick but they can't cover my shift so I can go to the doctor. I take two advil and try to go to sleep.
THURSDAY 12:23am: Have not slept a wink, except maybe for a tiny bit where I had a dream I was a giant banana (seriously? what's up with all the bananas?). I've thrown up the entire contents of my stomach because I didn't eat dinner, and am shaking like crazy and freezing but I can feel my skin burning up. Walking to the bathroom to pee is exhausting and literally leaves me hanging on the bathroom door gasping for breath. and it hurts to pee, it burns. At this point I'm hysterical. Obviously I can't think straight and I've convinced myself that if I don't go to work I will get fired, but I'm not really sure how I'm going to make it our of bed to get there. Oh yeah, also I've been chugging water down and it's been going right through me. I'm dehydrated as fuck. After a call to the smartest person ever I'm convinced into telling my parents I'm sick, and what's been going on with me. They're 1st, scared as balls, 2nd, angry as balls, then 3rd, won't talk to me. I go take my temp as told to do, and I'm at a whopping 103.6C. This is a ridonc fever. I am rushed to the hospital, sobbing, but otherwise silence in the car cause my parents are so angry and scared and upset with me.
THURSDAY MORNING 1:30am - 11:30am: Spent in he emergency room. I got admitted almost immediately, a room, an IV three blood tests in one vein and another in the other IN THE SAME ARM ABOUT THREE CENTIMETERS APART (ouch! there is a giant bruise on my right arm), a giant ass dose of morphine and gravel so I don't get sick, FOUR pelvic exams all by dudes (a pelvic exam is where they put antibacterial gel on their gloves fingers and stick those fingers up your crotch and into your uterus where they fell around for tenderness and pain. Luckily the morphine is slowing me down or I would be screaming and yelping at the top of my lungs so I'm just crying) which is awkward and fucking painful as hell, more morphine, and lots of stuff I can't remember. I wake up around 9am, my dad is gone and replaced with my mom who wants to talk. HOLY FUCK MOM NOT THE TIME TO TELL ME HOW UPSET AND SAD AND DEPRESSED AND DISAPPOINTED YOU ARE IN ME. Luckily it resolves well with the morphine taking over and me sleeping until they admit me and the nurse comes down to take me to my room. I sleep until my new nurses come in.
THURSDAY/FRIDAY/SATURDAY MORNING: the next three days are lumped into blood tests, bad food, hella morphine (which I have a little device on my arm where they insert it through) every four hours, the burning of when they insert the morphine, gravel because morphine makes me puke, celebrity rehab 3 while on morphine (SO FUNNY) visits from Kay, Ben and Hannah, and Caleb, really weird phone conversations, opening ceremonies ( so boring), reading tons until I get my TV, more morphine, THE BIGGEST ANGST AND PANIC ATTACK OF MY LIFE which was fixed by more morphine I've ever had in my system at one time, HUGE IRRITATION WHENEVER I WOULD WAKE UP FROM A NAP AND THERE WAS NO MORPHINE IN MY SYSTEM, and my parents being the most lovely people ever. OH YEAH, I smelt really bad, and then I got a shower, but apparently when you nap on morphine you have really restless dreams and sweat a lot so I smelled so bad. But the nurses said they were used to it and that I didn't actually smell that bad.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON: DISCHARGE, go home and sleep. Oh and watch Paris, Je T'aime, a new favorite of mine. Sleep more.
And that's the end. It was lovely. And Saturday morning, when the doctor said grieving I just started bawling. It was awful. But that's what I'm doing right now. My body is going through a grieving process and so am I, and while I've been knowing that, I also haven't really? And I chose the weirdest time to understand that, cry about it, and then accept it. In front of strangers, and then my mom. So now, I'm taking it easy, watching all the TV I can to keep my mind off things, and letting myself grieve. OH AND HEY! I'm writing again for the first time in years, and I got really excited about this dumb little project but it made me happy.
SOOOOO, despite all the pain, physical and emotional I've dealt in the past week, and all the sympathy I've felt for myself and from others, I'm doing okay. Not well, because my body is still getting better, but okay. And I will be okay. Maybe not better, but okay. and for now that's all I can ask for.
And that's all I got.
Ciao
Why can you and why can't I just come to an agreement. Why can't we become a we instead of a you and me? Because I think that then I could heal, and you could heal, and then there will be waaaaaaaay less problems. Maybe not.
I'm going to apologize for the profuse longevity of this post. I'm going to continue to write about my past awfulness of the last train wreck of a week.
So we start here,
SUNDAY NIGHT: Anxious, crying, trying not to cry and be strong, confronting feelings I've never had before but mostly just feeling lost and confused and stupid. Also, sick. I am very sick. Luckily, the wonderful Hannah offers me her house, as an escape from mine, which at this point I am scared of being in. The rest of the night is pretty okay, movie watching, talking with Hannah, one of my most comforting people in the world.
MONDAY: I'm sick as balls, nervous, upset, crying, anxious, and then, totally out of it, with Hannah being my only anchor to proper reality. More illness, OH HEY my period showed up, HEY HEY HEY, and some semblance of proper reality, and then sleep. Lots and lots of really weird sleep with really really weird dreams (a close of bananas for like two hours? huh?). Waking up to Hannah setting out food for me, Hannah feeding me, Hannah hugging me, Hannah being just generally the best person in the world and keeping me safe. Then, feeling better. Way better like, sort of out of it, but able to grasp concepts now, be sociable. Caleb and Ben, two personal favorites of mine stop by to give Hannah relief time from the mess and shit pile that is me. Caleb takes over, and I mostly fall asleep again. Lily, Claire, Jos, and Kay all stop by, the boys leave. I'm feeling mostly up to par and like these people so by bed time, other than being fucking exhausted, am feeling way more elated. This giddy feeling starts to form as I fall asleep.
TUESDAY: Overstayed my stay at Hannah's. She says not but that's how I feel. I take off early, shower, eat a little, Caleb comes over, but has been at a work meeting since 6 so he just sleeps. Watch some TV, but I'm still feeling woozy so I just nap all day. Literally all day, then watch a whack load of bad TV and go to bed, alarm set, ready for work the next day.
WEDNESDAY: Started out so good. Got shit loads of sleep for work, was happy and perky at work all day, and Jodi, my super amazing ASM, was fantastic with me. Went home, literally grab my computer lay down on the couch with my saltines and watch The Vampire Diaries (new favorite show, so bad, but oh so addictive. There is literally not one unattractive person. They are all GORGEOUS TIMES A BILLION). But I can't sleep no matter how tired I am. I start to get cold, really chilly, and then I'm shaking pretty uncontrollably. I start to get nervous cause I've never had a fever this bad, but I chalk it up to exhaustion. Try to call in sick but they can't cover my shift so I can go to the doctor. I take two advil and try to go to sleep.
THURSDAY 12:23am: Have not slept a wink, except maybe for a tiny bit where I had a dream I was a giant banana (seriously? what's up with all the bananas?). I've thrown up the entire contents of my stomach because I didn't eat dinner, and am shaking like crazy and freezing but I can feel my skin burning up. Walking to the bathroom to pee is exhausting and literally leaves me hanging on the bathroom door gasping for breath. and it hurts to pee, it burns. At this point I'm hysterical. Obviously I can't think straight and I've convinced myself that if I don't go to work I will get fired, but I'm not really sure how I'm going to make it our of bed to get there. Oh yeah, also I've been chugging water down and it's been going right through me. I'm dehydrated as fuck. After a call to the smartest person ever I'm convinced into telling my parents I'm sick, and what's been going on with me. They're 1st, scared as balls, 2nd, angry as balls, then 3rd, won't talk to me. I go take my temp as told to do, and I'm at a whopping 103.6C. This is a ridonc fever. I am rushed to the hospital, sobbing, but otherwise silence in the car cause my parents are so angry and scared and upset with me.
THURSDAY MORNING 1:30am - 11:30am: Spent in he emergency room. I got admitted almost immediately, a room, an IV three blood tests in one vein and another in the other IN THE SAME ARM ABOUT THREE CENTIMETERS APART (ouch! there is a giant bruise on my right arm), a giant ass dose of morphine and gravel so I don't get sick, FOUR pelvic exams all by dudes (a pelvic exam is where they put antibacterial gel on their gloves fingers and stick those fingers up your crotch and into your uterus where they fell around for tenderness and pain. Luckily the morphine is slowing me down or I would be screaming and yelping at the top of my lungs so I'm just crying) which is awkward and fucking painful as hell, more morphine, and lots of stuff I can't remember. I wake up around 9am, my dad is gone and replaced with my mom who wants to talk. HOLY FUCK MOM NOT THE TIME TO TELL ME HOW UPSET AND SAD AND DEPRESSED AND DISAPPOINTED YOU ARE IN ME. Luckily it resolves well with the morphine taking over and me sleeping until they admit me and the nurse comes down to take me to my room. I sleep until my new nurses come in.
THURSDAY/FRIDAY/SATURDAY MORNING: the next three days are lumped into blood tests, bad food, hella morphine (which I have a little device on my arm where they insert it through) every four hours, the burning of when they insert the morphine, gravel because morphine makes me puke, celebrity rehab 3 while on morphine (SO FUNNY) visits from Kay, Ben and Hannah, and Caleb, really weird phone conversations, opening ceremonies ( so boring), reading tons until I get my TV, more morphine, THE BIGGEST ANGST AND PANIC ATTACK OF MY LIFE which was fixed by more morphine I've ever had in my system at one time, HUGE IRRITATION WHENEVER I WOULD WAKE UP FROM A NAP AND THERE WAS NO MORPHINE IN MY SYSTEM, and my parents being the most lovely people ever. OH YEAH, I smelt really bad, and then I got a shower, but apparently when you nap on morphine you have really restless dreams and sweat a lot so I smelled so bad. But the nurses said they were used to it and that I didn't actually smell that bad.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON: DISCHARGE, go home and sleep. Oh and watch Paris, Je T'aime, a new favorite of mine. Sleep more.
And that's the end. It was lovely. And Saturday morning, when the doctor said grieving I just started bawling. It was awful. But that's what I'm doing right now. My body is going through a grieving process and so am I, and while I've been knowing that, I also haven't really? And I chose the weirdest time to understand that, cry about it, and then accept it. In front of strangers, and then my mom. So now, I'm taking it easy, watching all the TV I can to keep my mind off things, and letting myself grieve. OH AND HEY! I'm writing again for the first time in years, and I got really excited about this dumb little project but it made me happy.
SOOOOO, despite all the pain, physical and emotional I've dealt in the past week, and all the sympathy I've felt for myself and from others, I'm doing okay. Not well, because my body is still getting better, but okay. And I will be okay. Maybe not better, but okay. and for now that's all I can ask for.
And that's all I got.
Ciao
Monday, February 1, 2010
sigmund freud, analyze this
Today life is frustrating me. I work hard at being better, not doing drugs, drinking, getting to bed early instead of going out late and not getting any sleep, eating at proper intervals, making a very good and conscious effort to not talk about people behind their backs even when they're frustrating me, and how do I get repaid?
Like this:
I'm agitated and feel left out when everyone is drinking and doing drugs.
I can't fall asleep until 2 or 3 in the morning so I only get like three of four hours of sleep and that makes me fucking insane.
Me not talking about people in a vindictive way somehow causes everyone else to feel like it's okay to call me a fuck up and crazy and a bad friend and annoying and whatever else loverly flaws that irritate people and drive them to talk about me vindictively behind my back. And I find out about it on days when I'm down.
I'm gaining a shitload of weight and even though I tried eating protein and yummy tasty healthier choices, I've fainted three time in the past two weeks from fucked up blood sugar levels that aren't normal and definitely from past choices I've made (disorders, diseases, and drugs) and I upchuck a solid amount of food at least once a day. It's really charming.
To add on all of these super lovely things, My tits are giant past the point of attractiveness and they hurt like fuck all of the time. My skin is so bad and I've never had acne or even bad skin in my life, I look like shit. I have been so totally unsatisfied with my appearance lately, not once in the past three weeks have I felt attractive. I'm super fucking moody all the time and it makes me hate people. I really have not been able to deal with shit from people lately.
And, the cherry on the fucking top of the dripping and oozing ice cream sundae that is my life is that I have the worst fucking thing to deal with right now, like literally something that theoretically would have me running to the bathroom stalls crying and trying to drown myself in the toilet. Luckily I've taken it with a grain of salt and am laughing it off. Which is kind of awesome because it's made life a whole lot more bearable.
ANYWAYS, despite all my whining I'm doing decently. Watching The OC and Glee. and Gilmore Girls. This is how I cope with life. Through TV shows. I want some fudgeo-s. Imma go get some and eat some and yum yum yum!
Like this:
I'm agitated and feel left out when everyone is drinking and doing drugs.
I can't fall asleep until 2 or 3 in the morning so I only get like three of four hours of sleep and that makes me fucking insane.
Me not talking about people in a vindictive way somehow causes everyone else to feel like it's okay to call me a fuck up and crazy and a bad friend and annoying and whatever else loverly flaws that irritate people and drive them to talk about me vindictively behind my back. And I find out about it on days when I'm down.
I'm gaining a shitload of weight and even though I tried eating protein and yummy tasty healthier choices, I've fainted three time in the past two weeks from fucked up blood sugar levels that aren't normal and definitely from past choices I've made (disorders, diseases, and drugs) and I upchuck a solid amount of food at least once a day. It's really charming.
To add on all of these super lovely things, My tits are giant past the point of attractiveness and they hurt like fuck all of the time. My skin is so bad and I've never had acne or even bad skin in my life, I look like shit. I have been so totally unsatisfied with my appearance lately, not once in the past three weeks have I felt attractive. I'm super fucking moody all the time and it makes me hate people. I really have not been able to deal with shit from people lately.
And, the cherry on the fucking top of the dripping and oozing ice cream sundae that is my life is that I have the worst fucking thing to deal with right now, like literally something that theoretically would have me running to the bathroom stalls crying and trying to drown myself in the toilet. Luckily I've taken it with a grain of salt and am laughing it off. Which is kind of awesome because it's made life a whole lot more bearable.
ANYWAYS, despite all my whining I'm doing decently. Watching The OC and Glee. and Gilmore Girls. This is how I cope with life. Through TV shows. I want some fudgeo-s. Imma go get some and eat some and yum yum yum!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
i wanna dance with my babycakes, let my mouth go where it wants to
I heart Glee. I saw JD posting about that and just thought I would throw that one in there. For realz dudes, it's so awesome. Like straight up hilariosity. And I heart Finn too.
Anyhoo, things have been better but I'm super not down to talk about it.
Two weeks sans drugs and one month sans drunkeness. I'm weirdly proud of myself even though it's been a strange accident how it's happened. Just people losing their drugs, me not having enough money for drinking or drugs, not having anywhere that's decent to do drugs, other people flaking out. But I'm sill really proud, I don't care how accidental it's been.
The best part is I've noticed a small change is my lack of angst.
I really hate being a stupid person. I hate that my choices are do drugs and drink and smoke weed etc, and feel shitty all the time or I stay away from it all and am happier. It's such fucking bullshit. Being a depresso is so depressing. Because being drunk is fun and doing drugs recreationally is fun but I can't even do that. Especially not if I make the decision to use antidepressants again. I hate my body, I hate my brain, I hate the fact that I have to asses every single decision I make. Essentially, I hate that I can't be a weekend warrior.
Listening to Madonna right now. I also heart Madonna. Super stoked for the ENTIRELY MADONNA EPISODE OF GLEE!
ciao.
Anyhoo, things have been better but I'm super not down to talk about it.
Two weeks sans drugs and one month sans drunkeness. I'm weirdly proud of myself even though it's been a strange accident how it's happened. Just people losing their drugs, me not having enough money for drinking or drugs, not having anywhere that's decent to do drugs, other people flaking out. But I'm sill really proud, I don't care how accidental it's been.
The best part is I've noticed a small change is my lack of angst.
I really hate being a stupid person. I hate that my choices are do drugs and drink and smoke weed etc, and feel shitty all the time or I stay away from it all and am happier. It's such fucking bullshit. Being a depresso is so depressing. Because being drunk is fun and doing drugs recreationally is fun but I can't even do that. Especially not if I make the decision to use antidepressants again. I hate my body, I hate my brain, I hate the fact that I have to asses every single decision I make. Essentially, I hate that I can't be a weekend warrior.
Listening to Madonna right now. I also heart Madonna. Super stoked for the ENTIRELY MADONNA EPISODE OF GLEE!
ciao.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
if you leave, don't leave twice
So first things first, I have some things to say to say to some loverly people:
Ruby, Lily, and Claire. You are loverly ladies with loverly hearts who make me all warm and loverly and fuzzy. Let me tell you something (it's gonna be real cheesy but it's the best analogy I can come up with). I wake up everyday and I feel like I' m trapped in a world where I wear grey colored glasses (yes this is my version of rose colored glasses but for depressed people). Everything is one blah color. Once in a while, sometime more often than not, there are little flashes of color. Those comments will leave color in my little grey world for a very long time.
And so I begin:
I am depressed. It's a painfully obvious fact and has been for a while but never has it been THIS apparent. It's gotten to the point where I'm happy when I'm depressed because it's so normal for me that I have to embrace the awfulness, or I would literally just cry all the time. I'm not sure if that makes any sense. It's like because I'm so down all the time, I'm used to it and it doesn't hurt as much any more, so my norm is depressed but I've become a little desensitized to the awfulness and things just get worse and worse. The awful becomes the norm which becomes the happy.
Someone said to me a while back, I just want the Maria back who was always bubbly and laughed way too loud. And it made me cry because I'm not even remotely similar to that girl anymore.
That Maria was curvy and fun. She loved to laugh and hear other people to laugh and didn't have angst or depression or anything she needed to cry about except that her parents wouldn't let her out to party it up with her fabulous and plentiful friends.
Maria now is haggard and tired and has lost too much weight (I was 120 at the end of August, I'm 105 now and have been since at least Halloween. That's a lot of weight to lose in that short an amount of time if you aren't even trying. But for realz, have YOU tried to eat while way too anxious? You just puke it all back up). She laughs much more rarely and much less loudly. She isn't as shy as she used to be but she's much more reserved and mus more distrustful. She cries everyday without fail. She doesn't care about much except the well being of her friends and family, and she cares about her job.
Let me tell you something else. Some days I can't even get out of bed. Because I honestly can't even see a point anymore. Here is my reasoning: If nothing is going to get better, and at this point, after a year of total and incapacitating depression and angst, and a lifetime of depressed days and reoccurring angst, why am I even bothering? I mean why would anyone want to spend the rest of their life like this? I love my friends but I'm not sure that I love them more than I despise this feeling. So why should I get out of bed to go to work? So I can make money so I can continue to be a functioning member of society? WHY? I'm not getting better, there is no light at the goddamn end of the tunnel because there is no end of the tunnel. There is no color in grey land because colour doesn't exist. Life is blah and awful and it doesn't get better. So what is even the point?
YEAH
SO ANYWAYS
I have pshyc evaluation next week.
Go me. Maybe it will help me actually get better.
Until next time,
marmar
PS. Let's all (and by all, I mean the world) listen to JOURNEY ALL THE TIME PLEASE AND THANK YOU
Ruby, Lily, and Claire. You are loverly ladies with loverly hearts who make me all warm and loverly and fuzzy. Let me tell you something (it's gonna be real cheesy but it's the best analogy I can come up with). I wake up everyday and I feel like I' m trapped in a world where I wear grey colored glasses (yes this is my version of rose colored glasses but for depressed people). Everything is one blah color. Once in a while, sometime more often than not, there are little flashes of color. Those comments will leave color in my little grey world for a very long time.
And so I begin:
I am depressed. It's a painfully obvious fact and has been for a while but never has it been THIS apparent. It's gotten to the point where I'm happy when I'm depressed because it's so normal for me that I have to embrace the awfulness, or I would literally just cry all the time. I'm not sure if that makes any sense. It's like because I'm so down all the time, I'm used to it and it doesn't hurt as much any more, so my norm is depressed but I've become a little desensitized to the awfulness and things just get worse and worse. The awful becomes the norm which becomes the happy.
Someone said to me a while back, I just want the Maria back who was always bubbly and laughed way too loud. And it made me cry because I'm not even remotely similar to that girl anymore.
That Maria was curvy and fun. She loved to laugh and hear other people to laugh and didn't have angst or depression or anything she needed to cry about except that her parents wouldn't let her out to party it up with her fabulous and plentiful friends.
Maria now is haggard and tired and has lost too much weight (I was 120 at the end of August, I'm 105 now and have been since at least Halloween. That's a lot of weight to lose in that short an amount of time if you aren't even trying. But for realz, have YOU tried to eat while way too anxious? You just puke it all back up). She laughs much more rarely and much less loudly. She isn't as shy as she used to be but she's much more reserved and mus more distrustful. She cries everyday without fail. She doesn't care about much except the well being of her friends and family, and she cares about her job.
Let me tell you something else. Some days I can't even get out of bed. Because I honestly can't even see a point anymore. Here is my reasoning: If nothing is going to get better, and at this point, after a year of total and incapacitating depression and angst, and a lifetime of depressed days and reoccurring angst, why am I even bothering? I mean why would anyone want to spend the rest of their life like this? I love my friends but I'm not sure that I love them more than I despise this feeling. So why should I get out of bed to go to work? So I can make money so I can continue to be a functioning member of society? WHY? I'm not getting better, there is no light at the goddamn end of the tunnel because there is no end of the tunnel. There is no color in grey land because colour doesn't exist. Life is blah and awful and it doesn't get better. So what is even the point?
YEAH
SO ANYWAYS
I have pshyc evaluation next week.
Go me. Maybe it will help me actually get better.
Until next time,
marmar
PS. Let's all (and by all, I mean the world) listen to JOURNEY ALL THE TIME PLEASE AND THANK YOU
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