I don’t even know what to write about, recently. I’ve become complacent with being and accomplishing nothing. I’m a the great failure.

Last week I was the sickest I’ve been in a very long time. I was quite literally out of my mind. And if I’m being honest with myself, I still am.

I was plagued by the worst flu I have ever experienced. To make matters worse, I fainted several times; one involved hitting my head so hard, that I was knocked unconscious for an extended period of time.

When I came to, I was in pain, and very weak. I crawled to the couch to help me up. My night grew worse and worse. My final fainting spells caused me to hit my head on the toilet and tumble into the shower.

I was scared. I don’t want to go back through the bullshit that I endured in 2007. I called my husband, in a tearful panic, begging him to come home.

Flu, food poisoning, a dislocated shoulder, and a severe-pain-in-the-ass-concussion.

A few days prior, I had some biopsies done. My results came back with mostly good news. However, the odd discoloration on the side of my nose is precancerous, and developing quickly. March 10th I will be having it removed, along with stitches from my other biopsies. Fun.

I’m feeling better. I’m not too weak to love on my fur-kids. They were a shining beacon of hope and comfort. Much like my brother was for me, as well. He came to stay and help me while my husband was working. I was very appreciative.

Poor guy got sick, too. Two sick dorks. It literally was a shit show. We weathered the storm, as we do. Once he was doing better, I took him home. Then my husband got sick.

Seriously, life. What is the fucking deal here?

Through this all, I neglected to take care of myself and maintain my medications. I’m in a bit of a state of mania. Tonight I made sure that I got back on track.

And that’s pretty much it. I wish I could say that I’m relieved or something like that. But I’m not. I’m just blank. Manic. Withdrawn. Blah.

It’s just life. Shit like this happens. I just roll with it.

Wishing everyone well.

Sorry if I haven’t been my usual self. I’m too worn out. I’m not ignoring anyone, especially not on purpose. I just need a little bit of time to regroup myself and keep on keeping on.


Faceplant FTW!

Yesterday was quite the hellish adventure. Let me just warn you that if you are not a fan of gushy blood stories, don’t read on. 
I woke up with a very bloody face (much like the picture I’m sharing). My nose decided that I would love to wake up with my face and shirt just saturated. I had to take a shower and wash my clothes. 
After that, I thought I was in need of coffee. Made it. Drank it. Went for a second cup. As that was brewing, I went to put my clothes in the dryer. 
Faceplanted the floor. Blacked out.
Got up after I came to. Bloody nose. I expected that one. Washed up, got coffee and went to sit down. 
Within a few minutes, blood started to drip out my nose, once again. Went to wash my face and I Faceplanted. Had to clean up the mess; my face and the carpet.
By this point, I’m dizzy and really fucked up feeling. I don’t know how to describe it, other than it felt like I huffed a can of spray paint (never done), smoked some weed (actually have done), and a vice was squeezing my head.
I had a problem focusing my eyes. Then, guess what? Bloody nose. By this point, I am trying to not freak out and question if I need to go to the E.R.
I probably should have, but I didn’t. I hate going, being poked with needles, and getting no real help. 
I fainted a couple more times. Had a couple more bloody noses. Threw up a couple times because of the dizziness. Then decided that I would just not move the rest of the day, scared that I would take a header into the wall (which, by the way, sucks major donkey dick) or end up face down on the floor. I already had cleaned up enough blood, and I didn’t want to do it any more.
I was miserable. I was loopy as hell and probably made no sense throughout many of the conversations I had. 

None of the blood loss is going to be replenished by my defective body. I don’t want to sit through a (possible) transfusion, testing, and the whole world of shit that goes with it. 
I am in a world of shit. 

I hate people…

This kind of shit only happens to me.

I went to the grocery store to get a couple things. As I am walking around, a guy approached me, from behind, and says very loudly, “Where are the frozen sweet peas?”
Now, we are actually standing at the end of the frozen food section. Not realizing that the gentleman was addressing me, I continue to shop. Again, the man, who was literally two inches from my ass, yells, “HEY! I’m talking to you! Show me where the peas are!”
I turn around and give a resting bitch face followed with, “No.”  Guy gets pissed off, and tells me that he’s going to get me fired, calls me a lazy fat bitch, and stared me down. 
I respond to him, telling him I don’t work there, told him to get fucked, and then said, “Yes, I’m fat. Because every time I fucked your dad, he gave me cookies.”
The guy didn’t know how to respond. His face was bright red. He storms off to get the manager, and brings her to where I am. He tells her I’m a terrible employee, and that I swore at him, and refused to help him.
Manager looks at me, completely confused. She then looks back at the gentleman and tells him, “She is a customer. She doesn’t work here.” He got belligerent with her, calling her a liar.
She kicked him out of the store. 

She apologized to me, which wasn’t necessary. I thanked her and finished up my shopping.
I’m not going out in public ever again. Fucking assholes are everywhere!

Take the blue pill….

I feel like hell. I don’t get enough sleep. I don’t have any energy to keep going, usually. 

I started a new medication. No lie, it fucking sucks. It’s an antidepressant that is replacing the ones I have been on. I did the tapering off the original meds, and then started the new one. What a fucking shit show.

I have been going through random episodes of mania. I get angry, mean, and abrasive. I don’t like it, and can’t seem to stop it. It scares me. The ups and downs are mentally exhausting. It’s embarrassing.

Thankfully, I will see my doctor next week. I’ll have to let him know everything that I am dealing with while on the new antidepressant. 

I just want to be normal. Well, a version of normal that is me. I spend so much time trying to find myself. I’m failing miserably.

A little bit of this, and a little bit of that.

I’m feeling a little better than I was the other day. Despite the seizure, and being scared to death, I am ok.

Feeling a little bit down, but it will pass.

I’ve been getting out of the house more. It’s actually been very positive for me. 

My mom takes me to a Bunco night. I’ve met some wonderful ladies and really enjoy the game. I love making people laugh, and even if I look like an asshat, I’m glad that I can be a positive experience.

I’ve also been going out with both my parents to trivia nights. Once or twice a week, we go to a bar/restaurant and participate in the trivia.

It’s a fucking blast!

Tonight, the three of us competed against 10 +/- teams. There was a lot of people there! We won 2nd place! We beat a team of about 13 people. 

Just us three. How fucking cool is that?

I’ve made a new friend. Actually, a few new ones. My brother plays an online RPG, and made loads of friends. He has introduced me to them, and I just kinda did my best to be part of the human experience.

I absolutely adore one of them. He looks out for my brother, and that means the world to me. So many people have taken advantage of him, stole from him, and hurt him in so many different ways. It really helps to know that I am not the only one who cares.

This dude though. He is fucking hilarious. Great person and someone whom I am glad to call a friend. Hopefully, he isn’t scared of my crazy ass, and calls me a friend, too.

I’m tired. I need sleep. So, I bid you adieu.

Something went wrong…

Yesterday, at 4:50 PM, I had a seizure. 

I was scared to death as my body tensed up, and began to violently jerk. I felt like I was being electrocuted from head to toe. I was gasping for air with every jolt that shot through me. 

What was only a few seconds, felt like an eternity. I only remember bits of the episode, but it was enough to know that something wasn’t right. My husband was quick to assist me, ensuring that I didn’t get hurt. He was calm. He’s seen it before.

Once the jerking and the feeling of electricity shocks subsided, I ran out of the room, into the closest bathroom, and cried. I was scared. I don’t know what caused it to happen. 

I’m writing this so I have it documented, in case I ever needed it for medical records. Nothing more. 

I wish we could turn back time….

I don’t really know where to start. I have been a total wreck. From pain to sleepless nights, I have suffered silently. This is my only dumping ground for my feelings. I find it hard for me to just tell my family and friends how I really feel.

I’m going through another series of injections into my spine. Last week started the testing phase of my left side. Next week, test the right. Then, within a few weeks, the actual injections begin. Nothing is more fun than getting test needles jammed into you, and your relief lasts only an hour. 

Best fucking hour I’ve had without pain in the left side of my back!

Last night I went with my husband to his hockey game. By the time he was done, I was in the full swing of a fibro flare up. It hurts to walk, sit, lay down, and so much more. I feel like I am a total adulting failure. I feel worse because my husband has to pick up where I can’t finish. I am useless.

I’m being put on a new medication for my depression. If they would just give me Valium, we wouldn’t have to go through a million different things that don’t work. Fuck, give me Xanax. That shit works. No. Let’s just put me through hell.

I’m just tired of the hoops that I have to jump through. Everything happens at such a slow fucking pace. I’ve been trying to find a neurologist, but I swear, a good one is rarer than the fucking Unicorns. One asshole thought it was a good idea to ram a fucking needle into the back of my head, and put lidocaine in there. My migraines got worse. He was a dumb mother fucker.

So, I have trouble with trusting most neurologists because they all tend to be dumb fucks who don’t know how to help stop a 10 year streak of daily migraines. I would prefer they just admit that they don’t know what to do instead of turning me into some kind of experiment.

Sorry. I’m just frustrated. There’s times when I just want to give up. I’m exhausted.

I’m a work in progress…

I’m trying. Trying hard to not fall apart. Trying hard to not fall. Just….trying.

I’m emotionally drained. Nothing of significance caused the way I feel. It’s just a conglomeration of life’s “fuck you’s” that are currently a roadblock.

I feel like a total loser. 

I am also trying to help others feel better. If I can impact just one life, I will feel better. I love to make others laugh, feel beautiful, and more positive.

I wish I could do all of that for myself. 

I’m on day #2 with an ever growing fibromyalgia flare-up. Clothing feels like they were made of sharp knives. My head and brain feel like they are spinning; which, in turn, amplifies the daily migraines. Ten years. Ten fucking long years of daily, painful, chronic migraines. All the tests and images didn’t do anything to help me. 

What’s wrong with me?

It’s been super hot here. Last week, temperatures were up to 120°. It is about 110° today. It isn’t totally awful, but I don’t like it because I sweat like a mother fucker. It is gross and embarrassing.

Saturday afternoon, my husband and I, went out to brunch with my (ex) friend’s husband. Matt is such a sweetheart. We all talked about everything under the sun. 

Before he arrived, we talked about his separation. I addressed my behaviour towards him and apologized as much as possible. 

My husband and I really enjoyed hanging out with Matt. I still wish Amanda would have been there. I miss her. She’s my beautiful pageant queen. Always and forever, even if we never speak again.