Real Like A Plastic Bouquet
||[04 Dec 2012|10:04am]
Just curious as to whether anyone still looks here. I'm still alive. Surprising? Perhaps.
Shit sucks still. I feel awful, very few things in my life are good. I'm going nowhere. My medication does not seem to help though my doctor somehow thinks it does.
I do not have a good relationship with anyone in my family.
I love my cat to pieces and am terrified of losing her.
I am not singing at all. I did in the shower a few times and I got scared that douchebag living here would hear me. I want to go to karaoke. I want to know how to write songs.
I keep dreaming about my ex-best-friend and Rocky. It sucks.
I'm still very, very far from who I want to be.
BUT I STILL HAVEN'T GONE BACK TO USING HEROIN SO HEY I'M A SUCCESS RIGHT?
I've seen a lot of movies. A few friends. Nobody really gets me except for my boyfriend. And since he knows what I am really like he is at a loss for how to fix me.
I guess that's all because most likely nobody will see this anyway
||[22 Sep 2012|05:37am]
This journal is for real done. Just a reminder if there is anyone who doesn't have my new journal's location. I think I added anyone I thought would really care to read my new one, though. I'm not deleting this, cos sometimes I like to go back and read old entries from years ago. But nothing new ever after this.
My life is a mess and I hate almost everything and everyone. Haha.
I miss Rocky.
I'll miss this journal, in a way. But it's just better for my mental health to start anew.
I hate fall.
||[09 Sep 2012|01:04am]
I give up.
I will be starting a new journal on a different site, or perhaps under a different name. Contact me privately for the location. I will give it to you.
I've had this one for 12 years, and it's a shame to just stop. I can go back and read entries from years ago and remember how I felt at the time and marvel at how stupid I was, or how naive. It's been useful in some ways.
But I'm not here to put myself out there only to be criticised by people who truly don't know me.
The people who actually DO know me, and give some semblance of a shit, can ask me where the new journal will be located.
Not sure how much it will be used, but probably about as much as this one.
I'm done being the object of ridicule and talking to a wall and trying to persuade anyone that what is going on with me is legitimate and documented and torture.
I know what my life is like, and what I am like, and I don't ever write in a journal for the purpose of seeking advice.
So this is done, and you can text or email me for the location of my new journal.
Thanks for reading all these years, and caring, those of you who did.
|and your strength is devastating in the face of all these odds
||[08 Sep 2012|10:37pm]
I am really so glad that Utorrent exists, and of course the excellent site I discovered where I've never gotten a bad anything. Mostly all shows and movies are there. I found Damages (which BLOCKBUSTER DOES NOT CARRY!), and Lena Dunham's first movie (though I ended up having to delete it to make more space, and never saw it. I hate Girls a lot, but wanted to see it. I'll re-download it at some point.) I just spend a lot of time watching television. I don't feel bad. It keeps my mind off things. Since I discovered my wonderful torrent site, I've watched all the seasons of Sex and the City (even though it is ridiculous and stupid), Grey's Anatomy, Sleeper Cell, Damages (up til the current episode, which isn't available yet :( ), and a few others I can't seem to remember. Do you know how many hours it takes to watch 8 seasons of a 45-minute show? It boggles the mind how much time I've spent watching shows. But, I'd probably be crying and freaking out even more if I didn't. I need to not think. That is what I need most. And obviously the best way to accomplish that is by getting fucked up..but that's not an option. So, TV. I read, still, too. I like to get engrossed in stupid magazines, and I always am reading a book. I took out Lorrie Moore's Like Life from the library cos I was sure I hadn't read it, but now, 4 pages from the end, I realise I have. Oh well. Her stories are such a pleasure that I don't really mind. Besides, it was years ago. I think she's the best living short-story author besides Alice Munro. Third would be Jean Thompson. Incredibly interesting, I'm sure.
I wish bands like The Hold Steady and The Gaslight Anthem would realise they'll never come close to being anywhere near as good as Bruce Springsteen.
I have to see the doctor Wednesday and therapist Thursday. And basically nothing at all to report. I haven't done anything, there's been no progress, no change. I don't have any energy. I just cry a lot. My boy is gone. I don't care about anything else.
I just can't stop thinking about Rocky. I keep looking at pictures of him and it's just so bizarre. He was alive then. He's dead now. I held him after he was dead. I can't stop remembering his eyes open and how different his body felt. I can't stop remembering that horrible, horrible day. I keep looking at his photos and I can't stand it. I can't stand not being able to hold him and pet him and tell him I love him so, so, so, so, so, much. How can I keep living for unknown years and years and never get to touch him again? What if he doesn't know just how much I love him? I just MISS HIM SO MUCH and all anyone says is "I know" or "Stop obsessing". WHAT THE FUCK ELSE CAN I DO? I MISS MY LITTLE BOY WHO WAS EVERYTHING TO ME. He didn't deserve this, and it's just so, so awful. And I think these people forget I HAD TO EXPERIENCE THIS ALONE. I heard his death rattle, I drove frantically trying to get him to the vet before he died, I held his dead body. These people do not have these memories that won't stop their constant loop in my mind. They do not understand how horrible it was and how unfair. He was so, so good and loving and innocent. Just so innocent. And he's fucking DEAD at 13. It was so fast. I just don't know how to stop crying and missing him and thinking about him. I thought that I was doing better, trying to go out at least once a week, watching a lot of television on my computer, reading.. but it was some sort of temporary forgetfulness or something. It all came back and it all hurts again. I am just in disbelief and shock and so sad all over again. I don't know what to do.
There's just so little good in my life. So very little to ever look forward to or make me want to ever wake up.
But I love Baby. She needs me..and the last thing Ray needs is a dead girlfriend..
I just don't know what to do, how to try to make myself excited for any sort of future when mine is dark and bleak and full of the same misery as the past.
||[04 Sep 2012|09:00pm]
"It is the only thing in my day when I don't feel like I'm ..drowning."
The person who said this was describing an affair she was having, but it can be applied to a variety of situations.
That's how I feel about being with Ray.
It's the only time I don't feel like I am drowning. I feel like he is my anchor, and as long as he's there, and I know he believes in me, I can't give up.
He would probably kill me if he knew I was putting this in a public forum, but really, it's not like some well-read popular blog thousands read.
He wrote me an email and said:
"I was listening to The Smiths, and the last song was "Asleep" and it made me really sad remembering how that's like your favorite song by them. Please don't ever just give up on life. I really think you are destined for great things and to be happy. I can't stand to think of you just ending your life or something like that....You are very good and loving and caring. You are also very beautiful and talented. And I'm certainly no prize, yet you always build me up and you take good care of me. I wish you could see how good you are."
(For anyone who doesn't know, I was obsessed with "Asleep" for a long time, and still kind of am. I quoted it in Anderson Alternative's high school yearbook, though not a part that would make it obvious what I really meant. The specific parts I always loved said "sing me to sleep, i'm tired and i i want to go to bed......don't try to wake me in the morning cause i will be gone..don't feel bad for me, i want you to know, deep in the cell of my heart, i will be so glad to go..sing me to sleep, sing me to sleep, i don't want to wake up on my own anymore...there is another world. there is a better world..well there must be..")
I thought that I would want to play this as I started to die, and maybe even have it on repeat for whoever found me. I'd listen to it on repeat and just kind of rock back and forth and it was such a beautiful and perfect song. Because that's how I felt..I just didn't want to wake up on my own anymore..I would be so glad to go...and maybe I shouldn't have told my boyfriend that was my favourite song, because he often worries I'm going to kill myself. I know that he wants to be moving forward in life, focusing on positive things. And worrying about your girlfriend killing herself isn't conducive to upward mobility. It doesn't help one to focus on the important things, like furthering one's career, and staying mentally healthy. How could someone be mentally healthy if they're worried their girlfriend might off herself when they're apart?
I get in places where I feel I have to, it's my destiny, and I will, and I start planning, thinking I will take a shower so I'm clean and not hairy and put makeup on and my best outfit, and print out my saved note, and arrange everything..but I never do it. And I won't. It's just an area my mind likes to go to because things are shitty for me now, both in my head and in real life.
But I just hate that Ray ever worries about that.
I need to be strong and be the type of girlfriend who can help him, not make him worry and upset him.
But just reading his email made me smile and want to keep going because I know he knows me and that's ..and nobody else does like he does. Not since my ex-best friend J did I feel completely close and open and honest with anyone, that they totally accepted me and knew all my OCD crazy things I do and the paranoid thoughts I have and the secret dreams I have of being a famous singer and songwriter and how many people I really hate but am nice to and how many bad things I've done and how my mind works and tries to trick me..I don't miss her so much anymore because she's gone. The best friend I had changed like she'd been invaded by a body-snatcher, which happens all too often with twentysomething girls, especially with their very first serious relationship. They get brainwashed or just lost in their relationship, and it becomes all-consuming and they drop everyone else. She put bros before hos. Fine. The girl I was best friends with since sixth grade wouldn't have done that. She'd be here holding my hand and letting me cry on her shoulder about Rocky, who she rescued multiple times when he got out. But she's gone. I accept she will never be in my life again, and is no longer the girl she was when we were best friends.
I have a new best friend, who I know will never fuck me over, because we've stuck by each other through many, many men. And I have Ray, who is my male best friend, my other half, who knows EVERYTHING about me, even the things I'd be embarrassed to tell Michelle. Though there aren't many, there are a few. And I think you're just naturally closer to someone that you cuddle with, sleep with, etc, if you're already best friends with them. It's a level of intimacy the closest platonic friends will never have.
Being best friends with your partner is the best thing, and I'm just so grateful that he still thinks of me as his best friend, after all I put him through. Everything I've done, all the freaking out and crying and screaming and refusing-to-leave-the-doorway-because-I-don't-have-the-right-image-in-my-head. He's stayed, because we have a bond. I like to say he recognised it when I referenced "Yesterday" originally being called "Scrambled Eggs", or when I mentioned a vig, as in paying the vig on a loan from a mobster or whatever. He was so surprised that "a rich girl from Blue Bell" (though I am pretty fucking far from rich, having seen the house I grew up in and knowing my father was an attorney, he thinks of me as having grown up rich, and really, compared to many of my classmates, I did. Until my father left, we were good.) anyway, he was just like "Hey, I can't believe you knew the term 'vig'! You're so smart." (Yes, knowledge of mob movie terminology indicates intelligence, in our world.)
Just little moments like that, I like to remind him of, because they're things I think the other girl he was dating before he met me wouldn't have known. She was rather a bit of an airhead. With a pointy chin.
I guess I feel like I need to try to remind him I'm smart, because he's the smartest guy I've ever known, let alone dated. He just doesn't feel the need to go around showing it off. I read all these people's political diatribes or brags about the movies or musical artists they like and I'm just like, "God, my boyfriend could tear them to shreds. But he just chooses not to. He'd rather just laugh at them with me, because he knows he's smart, and doesn't have to go around proving it." He only argues with people whose views truly upset and offend him, like neo-Nazis or militant atheists who think all non-atheists are rednecks who think the world is only 6 thousand years old and homosexuals are evil. He defends his beliefs to idiots who need schooling, on occasion, but mainly he just acts like a regular guy, and only I really get to see just how brilliant he is. In his writing, of course, but also just the hours-long conversations we often have. He'll get all riled up about something and just talk and talk about it, and he is so articulate and so well-read I just can't believe he chose me. Me. I don't think if I read every book he's read I could be as smart as he is. He's just naturally smart. His brain works differently than most people's.
I don't know what my point was.
Just he sent me an email that made me feel a little better and I'm very grateful he is my boyfriend.
||[04 Sep 2012|03:08pm]
I don't even know what the fuck I was talking about before.
I can't fucking stand this and I am TIRED OF THIS and I cannot just sit around and hope this stuff starts working and then patiently wait until I see the doctor again and calmly explain that I need a higher dose. When all he will do is tell me to do FUCKING YOGA.
I AM TOO FUCKING ANGRY FOR FUCKING YOGA.
I FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE.
I DON'T WANT TO DO FUCKING YOGA.
His job is to GIVE ME MEDICATION and if it does not work, GIVE ME A HIGHER DOSE, or a different type or option.
THAT IS ALL.
I am sick of being asked if I did yoga. I fucking tried it and I fucking hated it.
If somehow this medication DID start working, I'm fucked anyway because I have to fucking move in less than a month and I won't be able to go to the same doctor anymore, and as I've discovered, pretty much no other doctors have even HEARD OF Emsam. Even psychiatrists. Or if they have, they are against MAOIs. So I will probably have to stop taking it once I can't see my doctor anymore. The doctor at Northwestern, which is the only place my insurance would cover in my mother's area, had never heard of Emsam. I'm not going to see a doctor who hasn't even heard of what I'm on. How can you seriously be a PSYCHIATRIST and not be familiar with one of the only MAOIs in use today?
I just don't know WHAT THE HELL I am going to do.
I really can't stand dealing with my sister. My mother promised me she would take me to the library after my sister picked her up from work, in between my sister's two shifts. Then it was "oh I am so tired can you drive yourself" so fine. Then, suddenly, my sister has "things to do". So I'm just FUCKED. I never fucking go anywhere. Valerie has the car every single day, and I guarantee you the things she has to do are probably not all of a wholesome variety. Somehow even though she has the car EVERY OTHER DAY, the ONE chunk of time when I was promised it, she gets it. OF COURSE. I just want to pick up my goddamned book I ordered, which they will only hold for me for a few more days. I want a FUCKING BOOK, that is ALL, a BOOK, because unlike her, I READ, and try to better myself and exercise my brain.
But this was just TOO AUDACIOUS A REQUEST apparently.
Just like ALWAYS, what I want doesn't matter, and any promises made to me are just meaningless, when my sister says she needs or wants something. She always, always comes first. Whatever she does or wants is more important. I'm so fucking sick of this. I just want to go home. I am sick of this bullshit and having to beg, borrow, and steal to get to the goddamned LIBRARY! That's ridiculous. She has a fucking 2 hour break in between when she ends one shift and has to leave for the next. She has "errands" to run for 2 hours, huh? Bullshit. She's just an asshole, and whatever I want or need is never, ever important enough. I can't even tell you how many times I will be out with my mother, or have plans with her, and we have to stop what we are doing, or cancel whatever we had planned to do, because my sister has some reason she has to use the car.
I hate being here. I can only stand it when Ray is here or I don't have to have anything to do with my sister.
A person might get sick of just sitting at home all the time. They might want to get out of the house, even for just 15 minutes to go right up the road to the LIBRARY so they can have a book to help them escape their shitty life. But that doesn't matter to anyone, my mother or my sister.
I'm just tired of always coming last. IN EVERYONE'S LIVES. Every member of my family shows me repeatedly how unimportant I am to them. My mother has done a lot for me, and I know she loves me, but when my sister is involved, there's no contest, she will always choose my sister.
My only fucking real friend, my best friend, said when she returned from California we would hang out. What a big surprise, she's been back since the 29th and not once mentioned hanging out. She can't even email me back. I wrote her like 6 days ago or something. No reply. I know what she does with her time and it's nothing too important to write her best friend back. It's just because I'm never as important to other people as they are to me, ever. Even my boyfriend doesn't get how desperately I want him to come here already. I don't want to be pushy so I try not to pressure him or say how much I wish he'd come over tonight. But I hate being without him, and I'm fucking bored, and it just makes things easier to be with him. He thinks of it as saving money, I guess, the longer we wait until we see each other, the longer until he'll have to spend money. But he's already spending money buying food for himself. When he comes here, I have food for him, at least for a few meals. He just needs time to write and be apart. I know I am a handful to be around all the time. But I really hate being here with my mother and having to jump through hoops and beg just to get a ride to the library. I just miss my boyfriend, our house, sanity, tranquility.
I just found out that this focus group I was scheduled for in a week or two was postponed. "Maybe in October" the message said. So the only cash at all that I will ever have in the foreseeable future just got taken away. It just gets better and better!!
I am just so, so angry. It's not even the library thing, that just..made me freak out. Because I was told I could do something, and then because of my sister's life being more important than mine, the rug got pulled out, and I was just already feeling fucking shitty today and fed up and frustrated with the state of my life.
I'm really sick of the type of comments I have been receiving and I have no choice but to make this friends-only, so the next time I write you will have to log in to view it. It's not complicated. Just have to put in your name and password on the main livejournal page, then go to my specific journal.
Maybe I just won't write. It serves absolutely no purpose. I think I am deluded if I think it fosters any sort of understanding of my life for my father. I can't ever communicate what my life is like through this. He doesn't respond to my text messages or emails half the time, I never see him..it's just pointless to think if I try to explain things in here that it will make any sense to him or anyone. I just have nowhere else to ever say anything about anything because my boyfriend and mother already hear it all the time and I can't keep subjecting them to that. They have their own problems and I can't be freaking out all the time to them because I don't want to drive them away.
My mother, as I said, has already told me she won't listen to certain things I have said about Rocky's death. I think that's fucked up. How I feel is how I feel, and to say I can't even fucking say them to my own mother..Ray is fed up with hearing them too, I just need to stop beating myself up and know how good I was to him..they just don't GET IT, and never, ever will. I watched him collapse and I was there when he died. I held his corpse. They didn't. They didn't treat him like he was their own flesh and blood since he was 11 weeks old. They didn't worry about him and pray for him and love him more than anything in this world. I know that to them, he was just a pet. Sad that he died, but nothing tragic. But for me nothing could be more tragic. Maybe if my parents or sister or Ray died. He WAS my son, I could not have loved him more, and I can't ever stop feeling like I failed him, and didn't protect him and keep him safe. It feels unbelievably shitty and I'm really pissed off that the only two people I have to talk to both tell me they're sick of hearing it. My mind is already a cesspool, full of horrible thoughts and worries and fears and negative things I am constantly fighting to push back so they don't overwhelm me. Now I have this, knowing my boy is dead and I did not keep him safe when that is what a parent is supposed to do. It is always there, and I am always feeling bad about it and apologising to him. It'll never be enough. Not until I die and see him again and can know he forgives me. Until then this is a chunk taken out of my heart that will never be replaced and a sadness that will always gnaw at me and extremely heavy guilt. And all I can do is try to think of other things, to try to ignore it, and that's very very hard for me.
and I'm so tired of it.
I'm so, so tired of being told to "try to think of positive things instead!". My mind does not work that way. It knows what's fake and what's real. Anytime I ever try to think of positive things it senses bullshit and knows I am trying to put one over on it. It knows I am trying to trick it. And won't fall for it. Negative things are the REALITY thus that is what my mind is filled with.
Basically every single thing about my life is fucked up and not how I want it to be. The only things that are how I want them to be are that my family is alive, and I have Ray and Baby.
Every other thing is wrong and difficult.
It's just all such bullshit. Whenever I see my therapist I don't think I ever make clear to her how fucked up things really are. Because we just talk about tiny, dumb things, like trying to be a good listener to my boyfriend. That's very nice, but it doesn't fucking fix me, or make me want to live. It's like we just don't even bother with the big issues, because everybody knows nobody has the ability to fix those. I don't bother telling her how often I get like this and how HARD EVERYTHING IS and how much I want to give up and/or get high. Because it serves no purpose, she has no magic answer, and there's nothing anyone can do.
Except keep hoping the medication starts working.
That seems to be about the only option I have.
It's getting very tiresome and is failing to make me want to keep going. Because I am starting to doubt it ever will.
I'm just so tired of being like this, feeling like this, acting like this, living like this.
I don't want to do it anymore.
I just want to be different. I hate this person. I'm so, so, so ANGRY.
How am I supposed to live? With this going on in my head, and depending on my mother for food, my boyfriend for money, when neither of them should have to do that, or really can? I want this to stop. I want to get better, just not BE LIKE THIS anymore.
I am just so tired. of everything.
I can't deal with it.
I guess I'll take ol' reliable klonopin. I don't take it every day, but I have freaked out at least twice in the last week so this will be the third time in a week and I am scared of getting addicted. I mean, my prescription says to take up to 4 a day. So I'm still taking less than that..but I really don't need to have to worry about benzo withdrawal or something. But they never get me high or make me feel good. It just helps me sleep. And all I want, all I can do, when I am this angry and on the verge of throwing things or screaming at people who don't deserve it is just to sleep.
So that's what I'll do.
And maybe things will look better when I wake up.
But probably not.
|at the end of every hard-earned day people find some reason to believe.
||[04 Sep 2012|10:47am]
A few years ago, when I still had my car, I would often get into my really sad mood, the previously mentioned "bad place", sometimes after dropping friends off, or for no real reason..and I'd always put Darkness On The Edge of Town in and play numbers 3 and 5, "Something In The Night" and "Racing In The Streets". I would just play them over and over and over. I hadn't listened to these songs in years, but I am listening now because I feel as fucking low as I can remember. Part of me listens to these songs and is like just grateful that someone like this exists, and I feel like I don't want to give up on trying to keep living because I always wanted so bad to make music, since I was 5..but then I realise it's all so stupid and unlikely. I was always meant to be a failure. And have proven that over and over again. I have never accomplished anything important ever. Instead I've ruined relationships and hurt people who didn't deserve it and squandered any potential I ever had. I just think I shouldn't have existed. The same way when they do an amnio or whatever it is called and they can tell if the baby is going to be so severely impaired that it would have a horrible quality of life and advise the mother to terminate the pregnancy, I wish that the doctors had some sort of test to be able to see that this baby would grow up to have something wrong with their brain and never be able to live right and would make everyone around her miserable and have to be taken care of like a small child and your lives will all be simpler and better off if you just get rid of this.
I'm sick of trying to convince people I don't even see or have a relationship with that I am genuinely ill and barely functioning and do not have the ability to do things a normal person does. Perhaps someday they will get it through their heads. I don't care anymore.
I know this is not living, and I won't do it much longer. I'm not willing to go around pretending it's okay because I'm trying not to upset the people I am close to. I'm not okay, and I'm tired of the fights and how upset it makes people when I do show how I really feel. I am tired of trying to hide it because I can't, and just end up fighting with the people I love. They would all of them, every one, be much better off if I wasn't in their lives.
I won't answer if certain people, you know who you are, go and try to ambush me by phone again. You're not putting me in any mental hospital --first of all, my poor-people insurance wouldn't cover it, LOL! And I don't need any sort of intervention.
I'm just dealing with some things.
I'm afraid this medication is not working, as I should've anticipated.
You will never know how scary it is to think you are broken and cannot be fixed.
I have very few choices, and my life just feels very close to unbearable more and more each day. I don't want to kill myself. There are 3 main reasons for that. First, I honestly am too embarrassed about the prospect of the medical examiner/coroner/whoever seeing me without clothing. That is ridiculous, but it's true. I don't want someone seeing me naked, even dead.
Second, I don't want to attempt it but fuck up and end up even worse off, in a persistent vegetative state or worse, awake but unable to communicate at all.
Third, I am too fucking ANGRY. At everyone who fucked me over. At the people who pretend they care about me but are fucking assholes and think I don't know it. At people who I know sing worse than I do but still have people fawning over them telling them how talented they are. At people who broke my heart. At people who had a responsibility, if not legal, then moral, to help me when I was completely broke or sad or whatever, and ignored it. People who were supposed to care about me more than anyone else but they flat-out ignored me, and I know for a fact wouldn't help me if I was lying on the side of the road bleeding to death. People who chose people who could never love them as much as I did instead of me. People who lied to me and cheated me and fucked me over and try to pretend that never happened or that they're different now, but still keep showing me they're exactly the same. People who were supposed to be helping me get better but ignored what I told them and forced me to stay on the same, useless medication for 10 years. People who had tons of money when my family didn't and my family deserved it a lot more and I had to hear all about their Caribbean vacations while my mother was visiting food pantries. People who made fun of my cat. People who made fun of me when I was younger. People who told me I would never be a singer. People who told me I didn't have it in me to ever be anything. People who told me I was ridiculous for the dreams I had.
For now, that fury is stronger than anything else. I want to prove people wrong, I want to rise above the assholes I know and knew, I want to get out of this and make them feel stupid for doubting me.
I just keep getting pulled back down by my mind. It wants to like wrap me up like a spider will wrap its prey all up in its web & shit. It is determined that I stay miserable and bogged down and on the edge of taking every pill in the house.
I won't, though.
Because man, am I angry.
There are so many ASSHOLES and people stupider than me or meaner than me, and they don't have a brain for an enemy. I shouldn't be dealing with this, on top of everything else.
I should be making the best of things and trying to live the best life I can with my financial and residential circumstances.
And I know my life would be a great deal easier, even with all the turmoil about where I'll live and money, if I was okay, mentally.
But I'm not resigned to staying like that.
Because FUCK THAT, seriously, you're going to tell me I was this bright, outgoing, "let me sing in front of my first grade class and introduce myself to random people in banks" kid, and then this is how it ends? Spent 3 years addicted to heroin, get clean, get not even 2 months shy of 3 years off heroin, and die?
I'm not okay with that. Besides, come on, to die at 27? What is this, 1971? I'm not famous yet. Not willing to die without even TRYING to make something of myself.
So this has to get better.
If I keep feeling the same then I will just have to tell this honestly to the doctor when I see him on the 11th or 12th, one of those, I forget, anyway, and tell him honestly I think I need to try the 9 mg. And if that doesn't work? Then I will have to examine the possibility of TMS. And tell him that. That I'm not staying on a medication for years that I know doesn't help me. Been there, done that, that's how I ended up on heroin, because I was so frustrated and felt so shitty and trapped. Not spending another 10 years on a useless antidepressant.
But I'm not accepting this one as useless yet.
It's probably been like a month.
I'm giving it more time.
Then I'll be honest with the doctor and tell him it's really kind of very important to me that I feel better soon, and sorry, but yoga isn't what's helpful for a mind this damaged, but could we please try the next dose? I'll give up cheddar and salami. (I may've mentioned this, but I found out I actually could still have yoghurt, so that's all that really matters.)
I have a plan.
And I have a reason to keep going.
I am not famous yet.
If I go out and get over my stage fright and then actually make some music and try to distribute it and get people listening and it fails, then I will be like, "Okay, it's not happening for me."
But if I never even try? And just have this "oh yeah I sang at karaoke and a few recitals in high school and people told me I was really good and should do something with it but I was too scared"? No.
Ca ne suffit pas. (When I tried google translating that, it said I should say "cela ne suffit pas", but since "ca suffit" is an expression, I felt "ca ne suffit pas" was just a restructuring of "ca suffit" so whatever.)
I will keep letting my anger fuel me and inspire me to keep going, and hopefully growing stronger by the day, until I, like a cartoon villain, will pop out of nowhere and take over the world.
|the walls of my room are closing in
||[03 Sep 2012|12:18pm]
I would like to redact my previous statement about the album Born in the USA. It's actually just "Glory Days", "Dancing In The Dark", and the title track I am sick of. I forgot it has "I'm Goin' Down" and "Darlington County", two songs that are just good and fun, and "No Surrender", which is pretty much my motto. From learning more from a 3 minute record than we ever did in school to making a promise we swore we'd always remember, no retreat and no surrender, and wanting to sleep beneath peaceful skies in my lover's bed, with a wide open country in my eyes and these romantic dreams in my head, the song is just perfect. Of course, young people today would hear it and be like "this is corny"..but it's not to me. "We busted out of class, had to get away from those fools"..that was me and my best friend in high school. Okay, I get that the song is probably about a guy and girl who've known each other since high school and are now trying to face the world and stay optimistic and all in the real world..but it always reminds me of J, my ex best friend. Kind of makes me sad, but then I realise Ray is my best friend now. He's the one I am in this long haul, this rat race, this shitty world, together with. He's the one I have to make a promise not to surrender to. We both have a tendency to get depressed and want to give up (though obviously me to a much larger extent), and we both feel like this world is so shitty and ridiculous and rewards idiots rather than genuinely talented people like ourselves. (I don't care how cocky that sounds. I know for a fact he is extremely talented, and he tells me that I am.) Ray is my ally, the person in this world who knows my secret desires and who I really want to be, and believes I actually can become that person. I am so incredibly grateful for him. And I guess that's why a lot of older Springsteen songs mean a lot to me. There's a lot of "you and me against the world, we'll make it because we love each other and that's what matters".
A lot of the songs are about women who've been burned in the past, and the singer is trying to show her he won't hurt her. I remember listening to "Be True" repeatedly when I first met Ray, even before I did, and it was me to a tee and then when I met Ray I was so astounded that a man like him actually existed. He paid for my drinks and dinner! He treated me with respect! He was intelligent, he READ FOR LEISURE, he was familiar with both Nietzsche and the oeuvre of F. Murray Abraham. And he was a real man. He cared about treating me right.
( click here for lyrics to a song that i felt was written for me circa 2007-8Collapse )
I don't know why I even thought of all this. Just I guess listening to all these Springsteen songs reminds me of when we first got together.
In "Tougher Than The Rest", there are a few lines that reminded me of me and my past.
maybe your other boyfriends
couldn't pass the test
well if you're rough and ready for love
honey i'm tougher than the rest.
well it ain't no secret
i've been around a time or two
well i don't know baby
maybe you've been around too..
And, of course, Ray had had a horrible experience in his past, a bad relationship, and I wanted him to know that I was different. I actually made a craigslist Missed Connection post just for him to see, in which I quoted this song, saying
"well there's another dance
all you gotta do is say yes.."
In the beginning of the song it says "So somebody ran out, left somebody's heart in a mess.." and that really applied to both of us. Ever since E, my virginity-taking ex dumped me, I'd been a mess, just flailing about, kissing all sorts of frogs, hoping one of them would decide I was worthy of love.
It was just like a miracle that Ray picked me. He was seeing another girl at the time, and he told me after he met me, he broke all his subsequent dates with her. He just felt like there was something special between us. There was. There is. We just have something. And we've had it for over 4 years. That's amazing to me. Before him, my longest relationship was like 7 months. I'd certainly never lived with anyone, had to cook dinner or anything. But I like it. I just hate how much I've put him through. I mean, I definitely pretended to be someone normal and sane when we first got to know each other. I hid my crazy, as I think most people do in the early stages of a relationship. But he really didn't know what he was in for. I feel bad for doing that to him. But I can only say that he hasn't been a breeze to deal with for the entire relationship, either. But any of his issues, they were resolved like 2 years ago. Since like 2010, it's basically been him being the patience-of-a-saint-having boyfriend whose girlfriend is a nutcase and drives him crazy, but acts cute and sweet when she isn't freaking out, so he sticks around in the hopes that she really will get better one day.
And I have to. I have to.
I don't want this. I hate who I am right now. I have very concrete ideas of who I want to be, and almost every aspect of my personality would be totally different. My family and Ray always tell me I can never be assertive with my friends or strangers who're rude or mean to me, but I have no problem being mean to the people I love most (i.e. my family and Ray). I mean, I am a real bitch to my mom, sister, and Ray, and yet I go out of my way to be nice to strangers, or frienemies. This is true. I just can't stand to have anyone mad at me..but I guess I think if the people close to me get mad, they'll get over it, cos they'll always love me, but strangers or friends might stay mad. I hate the feeling of knowing someone is mad at me. So many times friends or frienemies have hurt my feelings or fucked me over and I just kept quiet and bitched about it to Ray, because I didn't want to argue with them or make them mad. Or like I'll always give Ray an attitude if we are at a drive-through restaurant and he doesn't have the money ready when we pull up, I'll like rush him and get really mad if he doesn't have the exact change out ready to hand the employee, because I'm so terrified of making the employee wait, thus them possibly getting mad. It's just little things like that. When I go to Wawa, I always hold the door for people, even though only about half of them say thank you, but I am a bit ridiculous about it..I will hold the door when someone has not even entered the parking lot yet, is like 30 feet away, just because I don't want them to think I dissed them by seeing them coming and not holding it.
I am just a ridiculous person.
And I really don't know what brought on this entry, or the point of it. Just stuff I felt like saying I guess. If you took the time to click on the underlined text and actually read all the rambling behind the cut, I can't imagine why, and I appreciate it. Just stuff I felt like getting out, I guess. I guess I think reexamining my past might make me understand why I am the way I am in some respects.
I took a long walk with my mother last night. I got sweaty. But it's at least something. One thing I look forward to about whenever Ray gets his new place is bringing my bike there. I can't wait to ride it on flat roads. For now I think I'll just try to take more walks.
My mom made chicken cacciatore and I gave Baby mostly all the chicken in my serving. She loooves meat. I kind of licked the sauce off of it before giving it to her. I sort of broke it up with my teeth, too. I'm like a bird, pre-chewing the food for its young. Anyway, it was sweet. She's so, so smart. I don't know how she even knew I was eating something that contained meat. It just smelled like sauce, but somehow she knew and got right in my face to get her share. She even knows when I eat soup. Yesterday I was having my albondigas soup, which has meatballs in it, but it is red and has like, seasonings and vegetables and such, so I can't imagine how she somehow discerned that it also contained meatballs! She's so, so smart. She also figured this out for wonton soup the other day. She's very smart and a cute carnivore girl.
I believe our fortunes will change and our dreams will come true. We will go back to Paris within a year. We will have money. We will be happy, healthy, and secure. I will be mentally stable. We will both have careers that we like. My family will also have what they've wanted, and not have to worry about their living situation or money. I don't have much reason to believe this, but I just do. And this is where everyone I know just tunes me out because it's soooo ridiculous to believe in God, but it's not hurting them, so mind your business. I've had so many arguments with people about this. I just don't see why it matters what someone else believes. It harms no one if I choose to believe in God. I don't let it affect my political views, I still believe in science and evolution and all that, I'm not pro-life or anything. I think most atheists think that anyone who believes in God is a fundamentalist or evangelical Christian, who will either vote for all Republican candidates and try to get abortion and gay marriage banned, and get prayer in schools, or else try to convert them to their religion. I am none of those things, I'd never do any of those things, but still I get told that it's "stupid", "silly", and that I am ignoring "reality" and living in a "fantasy world" simply because I believe in the God of my understanding. I'm so fucking sick of it. Really, if you look at any atheist websites or youtube videos or anything, the way they talk about believers is just so shitty and they're so condescending and arrogant. It's obnoxious. Guess what, you can believe in God and still be educated and intelligent and liberal!!!
Anyway. My point was that the only thing that makes me confident the tides will turn and things will get better for me and my family and loved ones is that I pray a lot and I don't believe that my God is going to let things stay this shitty for much longer. I just think she's going to reward us for suffering for so long, and she knows we're good people and don't deserve to always be miserable and broke and all that. She wants us to be happy and is going to facilitate that. Not sure how, but she will.
Not that I'd be happy if I wasn't broke. But it'd be one huge worry off my mind. But I have something wrong with me that I am just hoping the current chemical cocktail I am on can fix. If not, I will just have to try something else..or maybe transcranial magnetic stimulation. I don't want to think about that. I am counting on this to work. It was such luck, and so much work, to even get this medication, that it has to work.
I am going outside to smoke, as I do every morning I'm at my mother's. Last night I got really upset about Rocky. I was watching an episode from season 2 of Breaking Bad where a baby had just been born and people were oohing and aahing over it and taking care of it and I just wanted to scream. Rocky was my baby, and he's DEAD. My son is DEAD. How can that be? It just doesn't make sense, and I just started freaking out. I miss him so much. So much. It just hurts so much and seems so unreal. I took some Klonopin and eventually fell asleep. But that fact, that my son is dead, is still there in the back of my mind and I have to keep fighting it from making me freak out again all day, every day. It's hard.
You should probably just not bother reading this. What purpose does it serve? So you can judge me some more? Take satisfaction in the fact that my life is still shitty, and, in your view, it's still my fault? Criticise the way I'm living it, or other people in my life live their lives? Tell me I'm too upset about my cat, it was only a cat, human beings are more important? I'm sorry, that's just not true. He meant more to me than most human beings. He knew me better, he accepted me better, and he loved me unconditionally, which is much more than most people I know can say.
I love my Rocky, he was my son, and I always will, and you will never understand it because you didn't have the relationship I did with him. Nobody ever had what we had together. He was my angel kitty, sent to me to help me and comfort me and keep me going, and I feel like I failed him. I just hope he knows how sorry I am and how much I love him and always will..
||[02 Sep 2012|12:25pm]
So yesterday I made a deal with my mom, because like I want to come to her house on weekends--she has food, and Baby. So she said she'd come pick me up, but I had to go with her to the Bruce Springsteen exhibit at the National Constitution Center. I had something else I'd wanted to try to do that evening, but it turned out of COURSE she gave the car to my sister anyway, so I couldn't have gotten there. We were done in the city by like 1 pm or something, but as soon as we got done our other errands (produce stand, library, 2 different grocery stores because one didn't have my favourite soup, and Chinese restaurant), she gave my sister the car. What a surprise! Doesn't matter if I ever want to use it, it's basically not even my mother's car, my sister just always has it. My sister claims she's getting a car in the next few weeks. Since she's constantly saying she has no money, doesn't have enough for rent, etc, I'd love to know how she's going to manage that. I hope she does, though. It'd be a huge relief for my mother and maybe sometimes I could actually have a car to use.
Anyway, the exhibit was okay, but mostly not worth the ridiculous amount of money they charge for admission. And I got bitched at for attempting to take a photo of a guitar. Seriously, guard? You have such laser-vision that you can see that I am holding up my phone and using the camera function from like 10 feet away? And it MATTERS? I understand if it was the Louvre or something, but come on, it's a ridiculously overpriced exhibit and I just wanted to take a picture of a specific guitar to show it to Ray cos we had just been discussing this guitar. What do they think, if photos are allowed, people will then photograph EVERY SINGLE ITEM and thus nobody will pay to come see the exhibit? Dumb. There was a part where you could write down which song means the most to you and why, and of course I couldn't pick one, so I ended up using like 4 different Post-It notes. You would write your choice, then stick it to this wall. I noticed a bunch of people putting dumb stuff like "Born to Run" or "Born in the USA". Ugh. The man has a huge, varied, brilliant catalog of amazing songs, and "Born to Run" means the MOST to you? I wrote "Mary Queen of Arkansas", "Tougher Than The Rest", "Man's Job", "Redheaded Woman", "The River", "Thunder Road" (okay, kind of expected but I love "you ain't a beauty but hey you're alright" very much), and "Something In The Night". But there were so many more I wanted to write. I haven't been too huge into his last few albums, but like up until The Rising Bruce Springsteen was just amazing. And I am so tired of people dissing him. I'd like to hear the songs they've written, see the stadiums they sell out nightly. There are just so many shitty, asinine songs and lame musicians out there, and I'm tired of people criticising an intelligent man who actually tries to write meaningful stuff. Okay, he goes a bit overboard sometimes with the common man thing. But if you read about his life, he DID grow up like a regular Jersey guy, they didn't have much money, and he got his start actually playing tiny little clubs with his band, not because he knew someone famous or people friended him on Myspace or some shit. He put in the work and he deserves everything he has, and I respect him so much. I just hate that so many people just think of him as the guy who did "Born In The USA". That album is mostly lame, except for "Bobby Jean" and "Downbound Train" and "I'm On Fire". It doesn't represent the huge number of totally different songs he's done in his career. I bet that if you played someone who only knew, like, "Glory Days" and such "Mary Queen of Arkansas" or "Growin' Up", they wouldn't even know it was Bruce Springsteen. I just love him. I don't love every song, but I love a lot of them very much.
I got SO MAD when we got to the library, which I know is open Saturdays, only to find a sign on the door saying it was closed "for Labor Day" on Saturday and Monday. THE HOLIDAY IS MONDAY. NOT SATURDAY. They are so LAZY. I really, really wanted to pick up the book that is waiting for me there, and now I can't until Tuesday. (They're closed Sundays in the summer, of course.) I seriously was like freaking out. I just think it was a really lame move. They know they're closed Sundays, and closed Monday, so anybody who wasn't able to get there Friday is just screwed until Tuesday. There's no excuse to be closed two days BEFORE a holiday and call it being closed "for" the holiday. I hate the library sometimes.
Baby seems to not be sneezing anymore. She sneezed once since yesterday afternoon, but that's it..and my mom says when I wasn't here, she didn't sneeze at all. I really hope she's over whatever was wrong. She's acting normal. I'm so glad. I love her so much.
I finally dreamt about Rocky, but it wasn't what I thought..I mean, in the dream, I didn't know he was dead..and like we were at some amusement park ride and I kept trying to pick him up and hold him because I was scared he'd fall off the ride when it got up high, and there were these train tracks and I was scared he'd run onto them..but when I couldn't hold him and he got free, he went on the ride and he came off just fine, he never fell off, and he never ran onto the train tracks. Someone said I should think of this like the ride/train tracks was death/getting to the other side..I was so scared and worried for him, but he was just fine, and I didn't need to have worried, he made it just fine. I hope so. It was just strange. I totally forgot he was dead in my dream, I was just running after him trying to pick him up like he was my cat Rocky, being naughty..I miss him so much. It still just feels so bizarre. I hate it a lot. And like I guess now that it's been over 3 weeks I'm supposed to act normal and go out and do things and not talk about him all the time..but it's hard. I still hate going in the dining room, where he spent his last day in the corner, and collapsed on the carpet, and I rushed to get him into the carrier and ran out of the house to try to get to the vet...that room is the most depressing room, now. I go over to the living room window and touch his pillows and blanket with his fur still on them. It's still weird just using one plate to put cat food down on the floor. I just miss my boy. My wonderful, sweet, innocent, loving boy. I just feel so bad this happened. I have so many regrets and it just sucks a lot.
Many months ago, probably like February or something, this cat was hanging around our driveway at Ray's. It was obviously not feral, it must've had a home, because it let me pick it up. It nuzzled against my arm, and I was just petting it for a while. We never saw it again, though. Well, the other night I was walking back to Ray's house from Wawa and saw a cat run under a car. I just wanted to see if it'd come out, not even thinking it might be the one we'd seen months ago, which we'd called Jack. I put my hand out for it to sniff and it came out, and let me pick it up, and I carried it to Ray's driveway. It was Jack! I was so happy, and he let me pet him behind the ears and was being nice, but then suddenly seemed to get irritated. He kept rolling around on his back in the grass, making me think he wanted me to pet his belly, but when I would try, he'd bite me or growl. I don't know why he got angry out of nowhere. I really hope he isn't in pain or something. Maybe he smelled my cats or something..anyway, I was just so happy to see Jack again, to know he's alive. I really wish I knew whose cat he was. I want to warn them about letting a cat without a collar out in the city at night. This was like 11 or 12 at night! That's how we lost Lucky, and I'll never forget that. I know it really messed up Ray. They shouldn't have their cat out at night or really out in the city at all. But I have no idea whose he is. I want to bring some cat food to Ray's in case he comes back. I wish we could've brought him inside, but Ray's convinced he is someone's cat that they just let out.. I hope once Ray moves I can convince him to get a cat for his apartment eventually..
So my mother spent every cent she had, basically, on the exhibit (even with her senior discount and my student discount, it was mad expensive) and grocery shopping. She's substituting for some woman being a lunch aide one day this week, but I just worry about her. What will she do when she runs out of cat food? Well, her boyfriend usually buys some when he comes over. She's applied for so, so, so many jobs. It's just very hard when she doesn't have reliable transportation, she has no computer knowledge or skills, and she's 61. They always pick someone younger..she was just telling me about a bunch of jobs she applied for and I felt really bad. She's a fuckton smarter than 99% of the people I have met in my life, but people hiring people probably just look at her age or the jobs she has had and are like "Next!". . I just think something really good is going to happen for her soon. She's just had things so shitty for so, so long. It can't stay that way. She deserves something really good more than anyone. I just keep praying about it.
I've had to pee for like an hour, but Baby is lying next to me, and I know when I get up, she'll get off the bed, so I keep holding it in. I have to get my mother to put my Emsam patch on, though. (It's easiest and stays on best on the back, but it's hard to apply it to your own back and not get it wrinkled or uneven or anything.) So I'll go downstairs now I guess.
Last night I put on the t-shirt I wore the day Rocky died for the first time since he died. It was sad, but I don't want to just never wear it again.
I just want to sleep until I can wake up and suddenly feel like a human being, and act like one. I'm really tired of the way my life is and how I feel, and how few people have a clue what it's like or how hard it is to live with.
I really would be fine if Ray and I could just somehow get a ton of money and move to Europe with Baby and never ever come back again. I mean, we'd stay in contact with our parents, and perhaps some friends, but I would not mind one bit if we had the ability to just leave tomorrow. My whole life here is just so...not what I want. I know I need to try to fix the messed-up parts that are fixable by me. But I just don't have the energy. I'd rather just go try something new. Oh well. I'm stuck with this so I have to try to make it work, I guess.
I really don't even know what the point of writing here is. It doesn't really help me at all, and most of the time if anyone reads it, it's just to bitch at me or argue with me about something. I have been debating just stopping for a long time. But really, the main reason is I don't talk to my dad much, and I know he reads this a lot. So this way I don't have to go over everything I've been feeling, doing, and thinking the next time I do see him. It's like my only way to give him some idea what my life is like. But I don't think it really accomplishes that anyway.
I continue to dream pretty much weekly about my ex best friend. I hate it, because she's always nice and says she wants to be friends again in the dreams. Of course one of the people who I shouldn't be facebook friends with, a bad person I do not trust, still talks to my ex best friend, and told me she is getting married to her piece of shit boyfriend in the fall. It just makes me sad, like, I don't ever want to hear anything about her, you know? I want her erased from my memory. I can't stand that someone I was closer to than anyone and trusted more than anyone completely turned on me and changed into a different person I did not recognise and betrayed me. This is just one example of why remaining in contact with Ms.X, the facebook friend, is not helpful to me. I know she tells me stuff my ex-best-friend, J, says, just to upset me. She KNOWS it bothers me that she talks to J, since she would never have met J if I hadn't brought her along when we all hung out. They were never like close friends on their own. They just saw each other when we hung out together. She KNOWS how bad J hurt me, and yet she has to go and talk to her and bring it up to me, just to get my goat or whatever. She does things like this all the time, she wants to upset me and try to show off how she can still have contact with people I can't. She mentions people from my drug-using past, too. Like, wow, awesome, I'm SO JEALOUS you still talk to a bunch of waste-of-space junkies! I mean I didn't think of them that way when I was friends with them, but I can see very clearly now what kind of people they are, and she thinks it will like impress me or something that she talks to them, but I just think it's ridiculous. Yet she's TOTALLY CLEAN, right? Sure. You're totally clean, but you associate with a bunch of the worst junkies on earth who would rob their own parents without a moment's hesitation. And you claim to act as some sort of referral service, that drug dealers pay you to refer clients to them..but you don't do any drugs yourselves. Sure. Funny, I don't have any contact at all, don't even know the contact information anymore, for any of the drug people I used to know. But somehow you stay friends with them but you yourself are clean. Right. She's proved to me so many times she has a lying problem, but just denies everything if I've ever tried to tell her I don't believe what she's saying. She's really becoming a problem. she texts or calls me like every day. It doesn't seem to occur to her that I DON'T WANT TO TALK even though I rarely ever answer her. UGH.
Well, I am going to go watch more of season 2 of Breaking Bad. It kind of makes me wish I could do crystal meth, but I never knew anyone who could get it, even when I was doing drugs. And I know it ruins lives and all. It just looks fun and when they depict people snorting it, I miss that. The first rush when you snort it and get a drip and feel amazing. But it's an upper, and they always made me feel awful. I mean, I am committed to not doing drugs. Besides, the medication I am on has all kinds of warnings that basically any illegal drugs could kill me if I took them while on it. I'm not going to, and as I said, I never had access to crystal meth anyway..mostly, I can separate the drug aspect of the show from my nostalgia for doing drugs, and just watch it and find it entertaining. But every so often they show someone doing a little bump and then being like "OH MAN THAT IS GOOD SHIT" and I'm just like "UGH I MISS THAT". I was telling my therapist the other day, like, it just sucks that you get sober and then life is WORSE! At least before you were oblivious, you were having fun and felt GOOD. Once you get clean, then you remember why you wanted to get high in the first place..your life sucks. And much of it is stuff I can't do anything about. I just mainly cling to the clean time I have, the fact that in like less than 2 months it'll have been 3 years since I took any sort of opiate, and think that I don't want to throw that away, no matter what. Plus, I know my boyfriend would not stay with me if I started to do drugs again, so I am not willing to lose this relationship. I just miss it. I just wish my sober life was more tolerable. As Gary Busey says, "sober" stands for "Son of a Bitch, Everything's Real!"
I just think these alleged "coping skills" some people have..I've yet to develop any.
Time for a cigarette. I feel guilty every time I smoke, believe me. And I do fully intend to quit for my New Year's resolution. But right now cigarettes are comforting. I hate part of them..I mean, I hate the smell a lot, I even don't like the taste most of the time, I hold my nose during and after smoking..it's just the actual smoking I like..then I have to wash my hands as soon as I come inside cos I'm always afraid Baby might lick my hand and taste cigarette..but I'm always getting bitched at to quit by family members and they just don't seem to understand the concept of you have to be ready and WANT to quit. Quitting, or trying to, because people are bitching at you is not going to work. Same as it was with heroin. When I went to rehab, it was mainly because my mother had found out I was on heroin again, and pretty much made me go. I didn't really want to get clean. I was just sick and needed detox. But I did drugs again when I got out, because I was not ready to stop. You have to want to stop, to have had enough of that life.
I will quit cigarettes. I do not want to get cancer or diseases, and I don't like the negative effects they've had on my body already. But I am not ready to do it TODAY.
I love Baby so much. She always comes into my room as soon as I come home, and stays with me usually all night, though sometimes she comes in and out of my room during the night, waking me up each time she returns. She spends pretty much the majority of her time with me when I am here, and I just love that. My mom says she only sleeps with her when I'm gone because she's a consolation prize, that as soon as I get here she's so happy to be with her "real mommy". This makes me both happy and sad. I know my cat loves my mom, but I do think she has a special relationship with me. Cats are just so good and loving and sweet. I just miss my boy so much. He's not sick anymore. He's not in pain. But I just miss him healthy, running around, chasing mice & such. I just want him back, and it sucks.
||[31 Aug 2012|10:46am]
There really are a number of people I shouldn't be friends with, even on facebook. One of them has really been stressing me out lately, texting me all the time, asking when we will hang out, pestering me. I don't want anything to do with her, basically, but she doesn't know that, and I don't want the drama that will come with trying, even in any sort of gentle, non-mean way, to explain this. So I just avoid her as much as possible.
I have been at Ray's the past few days and I am of course worried about Baby..my mother said she didn't sneeze last night, so that's good..
It's upsetting to think in a month I won't be here anymore, but I'm okay with it. I like my house, I don't mind being there until we are able to get a place.
I am still a little bit sick but not as much. But I really need to come up with something better to do with myself for some tiny bit of exercise than riding my bike. I cannot stand to ride it in my mother's neighbourhood. The hills are just unbearable for someone with my diminished lung capacity, plus it's just very hard to get the bicycle to move at all. We did yoga a week or two ago, but it was excruciating because we did like all 30 poses, when apparently we should only have tried a few at a time since we'd never done it before.
I really just hate being outdoors, especially in this weather, so pretty much anything involving even walking is out of the question unless my mother and I go for walks at night again, which I guess we could.
I just have to bring my bike to Ray's whenever he gets his new place. The city is much much more hospitable to bike riders.
I miss my Rocky so, so much. I keep thinking about him and his last days and hours. I hate it. I just hate that he's gone. And the world has continued to exist and move on and such. I don't want to, I want to pet him again, I want to stare at his pictures and just sit and miss him, but I can't, really. I just hate not having him in my life. He was just so, so good and innocent. I haven't seen any of my friends lately and don't care to. Besides the usual not-feeling-like-being-social because I feel like shit all the time and am not fun to be around, now I especially don't want to, because I'm still really sad about my cat and I don't want to sit and talk about it to anyone besides my boyfriend or my mother. I probably already said this. My best friend has been back from California for a few days and still hasn't emailed me back. That bothers me. I know her boyfriend takes up a lot of her time and hanging out isn't that easy to arrange, but it takes 5 minutes to write an email.
It's pretty sick but the other day I was just going through a whole list of people I wish had died instead of Rocky. Ray was surprised at who was on it, but really come on. That was my son. I could have handled and would have preferred a great number of people's deaths rather than his.
I don't feel any different, and I just keep hoping the medication just needs more time.
My phone will be shut off on the 5th. Really, I don't even care. Ray can just call my mom's house phone to reach me when I'm there. There's nothing terribly important I would need to do with my cell phone. Fuck it.
My mother has a colleague who works for the Department of Welfare and she emailed them explaining my situation and asked if there was any sort of help available (even though I already know there isn't) and this bitch was all like "She needs to be persistent with her SSI application"..what the fuck do you expect me to do? It's under review, and has been since fucking March. What REALLY bothered me was she was like "It's really amazing all the nonsense and paperwork these people will put themselves through just for a measly $205 a month, when you can make that much doing less than two hours of caricatures." Uh. Okay, hello, do you not realise that your own organisation, when it DID offer this great big $205 a month, made people PROVE they couldn't work? Don't you think if people who received welfare could do caricatures, they WOULD? Oh, okay, they're just LAZY. It just made me so angry because she of all people should be aware of the lengths a person has to go to to receive welfare, they must prove they cannot work, or cannot find it, and if they can't find it, they have to go to all sorts of job seminars and training and take whatever job the DPW finds you. She made it sound like "these people" are just so lazy when they could be out doing caricatures. Of course! Because living on $205 a month was awesome, and people would definitely choose it if they instead could have a real job. And now they've taken that away, so people are living on no cash at all and $200 in food assistance. I would like to see this woman feed her household with $200 for food a month, and how she'd manage to live without any cash at all, except what her broke mother could give her. Be persistent with SSI? What the HELL ELSE CAN I DO? I called them! They told me it could take 10 months! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, BITCH?
A number of people have been pissing me off lately. Don't even feel like writing about it.
I'm just fed up, tired, in pain, sad, broke, and irritated. I'll at least see my cat tomorrow.
|thou who never lost a battle, stand by me.
||[27 Aug 2012|09:53am]
I am getting a panicky feeling in my chest again. Baby is sneezing a LOT, like at least once an hour, unless she's asleep. There's no way we can take her to the vet again. She's still eating and acting normal and purring and lying with me..but she's sneezing a lot. I can't stand for her to be sick and there's nothing I can do about it. There are food pantries and clinics for poor people..but nothing for poor pet owners. I just think that's fucked up. A conservative might say "Well, if you're that poor, you shouldn't have bought a pet." but when we bought the cats, we had a different financial situation. In 1999, we weren't DEAD BROKE. My mother was still receiving child support, and in better health, etc. We had no idea things would get this bad. I am just praying really, really hard. I need Baby to just get better. It's just a cold..nobody ever died of sneezing, right? ..it just upsets me.
I had an argument with Ray yesterday and he had to go to sleep and I just got into that Bad Place..I lay in bed just crying and thinking "I have to do it, I just have to die. There's no reason for me to live. I can't do this. There's just nothing left." Then I listened to some Elvis Presley gospel songs and I just came out of it. This is a part of emotional intensity disorder I hate.. things just REALLY get to me and I get way more upset than a regular person would and take it too far, too seriously..it goes away, I just hate the time I feel horrible until it does.
It makes me doubly sad to listen to these Elvis songs because not only do they make me think of Rocky, but they remind me of times with my father, when I was younger, and how much simpler life was then, and how I'd see him more often. It's just hard to see him. I really, really can't deal with public transportation, and unless he happens to be in Montgomery County when I am, that's the only way I can see him, taking a bus and then the el to his office. It just upsets me, the whole process of taking the bus and the el. I fucking hate everyone staring at me as I wait for it, I hate riding it and people looking at me and sitting next to me, how loud it is, I just hate it. I miss my dad. I just don't feel capable of making myself do all that to get to his office very often. I wish he would be in my area more.
Oh by the way our house fucking sold and we have to be out September 25!! AWESOME!
Baby just sneezed twice. I really, really need this to stop.
I have to go to an appointment today. But my mother just found out she has a job interview 15 minutes after my appointment. So she's going to it right after dropping me off. So I'll end up sitting at Northwestern Human Services for like an hour waiting for her. The type of people in the waiting room there are similar to the ones at Northeast Community Center for Mental Health and Mental Retardation. Either loud and obnoxious, or they try to have conversations with you. I hate talking to strangers. But the type of clientele who go to NHS will always want to tell you all about their life, problems, and medications. I hate that shit.
I have to take a shower, which is a pain in the ass. I hate the whole thing..trying to get every nook and cranny clean, shaving my armpit over and over because the hair is short and thus never seems to come up the first time I put a razor over it, how long it takes to rinse the body wash out of my body pouf, trying to rinse the conditioner out of my hair, and all the lotion I have to apply afterward. Of course I feel better after, but it's just a pain in the ass. Everything is. I don't feel like doing anything.
But maybe it's just not been enough time and the medication will start working.
I just want Baby to be totally healthy. I don't care about what a complete mess my life is and how broke I am and how badly I am living like a regular human being. I just need her to stop sneezing.
I am occupying a lot of my time with television series as usual. Since I'm now up to date with Damages, I had no choice but to start another series, so I tried The Shield. I'm ambivalent so far. I don't like dirty cops, or morally ambiguous ones. Vic Mackey seems like a cocky guy who we're supposed to think always gets the REALLY bad guys, so it's okay that he lets other bad guys (not as bad) go, or makes deals with them, or that he shot his coworker who was secretly investigating. I just don't think I like this main character too much. I like my protagonists like Jack Bauer, a moral man, who does what's right, and is never selfish or caring about his own ass, he just wants to help people and get all the evildoers. Vic Mackey is kind of a dick. But I'll try a few more episodes before giving up..
I'm still sick, but not as bad. I am still coughing and wheezing, but it's just an annoyance.
I finished the antibiotic so hopefully the bacterial infection is going away..
There are some people I really need to cut ties with, but it'll be a huge drama-filled deal when I do..it's mainly one person who showed what an asshole they were years ago, and I never should've let back into my life in any capacity, but now they've like wormed their way in way more than I wanted, and I need to get rid of them, because they've proved to be exactly who they were.
I just hate confrontation. I think I'll just write them a long message or something on facebook..
I really hate IBS. I don't even know if it's due to the IBS, but going to the bathroom is really difficult these days. If you poop regularly and easily, be grateful.
It rained a whole lot. I can't decide if it's depressing or refreshing.
|God be with you till we meet again
||[26 Aug 2012|06:40am]
I thought that I was finished crying and being upset about Rocky..but yesterday morning Ray just had to lie next to me and listen as I cried and cried. I just hate this. How the FUCK CAN I LIVE WITH THIS UNTIL I DIE? Maybe my 12 years of smoking will have already ruined my lungs and I have cancer and don't know it and I am dying anyway. Because living until I'm 70 or 80 or something, and never seeing my little boy until then..I can't deal with that. I cannot honestly foresee being able to stand it. I love that boy SO MUCH. Ray agrees, that most pet owners do not love their animals as much as I do. I am obsessed with my cats, and everyone always would tell me they were worried about what I would do when one of my cats died. I always brushed it off because I thought my God would not DO THAT TO ME while I lack coping skills and am still crazy and barely hanging on anyway.
I just don't know why this happened. He didn't deserve this. He was so, so innocent and GOOD. Just pure and full of love. he never hurt or lied to or yelled at or bitched at anyone in his life. He just wanted to be brushed, have his stomach petted, and have water and food. I am reading this book by Sylvia Browne (shut up if you think she's a charlatan, I don't), and she says animals are just pure love, they don't have any of the negativity humans absorb from their environment and the people around them. This is so true. They have no ulterior motives, they just want to give and receive love.
But why are they in our lives for such a short period of time? Why do turtles live so long but the most common house pets don't? I would much rather know that turtles die after 15-20 years than the best animals in the world.
I just keep telling Rocky I am so, so sorry. I love him so, so much. I just wish this had happened to literally almost anyone except him. I could handle it if it was me. I could prepare myself to die. I don't care so much about living. But he deserved to live a long, healthy life. Not get terribly sick and stop eating and die in a fucking car.
They keep saying to focus on the good times we had. But even the good times were sullied by his skin problems, I was always worried about his rash and wounds. Even though in the last year or two they were better. He had too many years with skin problems, and it still makes me hurt so much and want to tear the hearts out of all the people who made fun of him. How can you seriously make fun of an innocent animal with a skin irritation that causes him to have a red wound that most likely hurts, and definitely itches and irritates him? Who the FUCK DOES THAT? One of these people, who I haven't seen in years, was trying to hang out lately. First he canceled, then I did, then Rocky died, and he saw on facebook and sent a message to the effect of "Well, let me know when you feel like hanging out, we will send ol' Rocky off in style, I'll get some champagne." Right, I'm supposed to forget the things you said about him? How you talked about his leg wound like he was a leper or something? I just accepted it at the time because I knew I loved my cats wholly, and had a good time otherwise with this person. But now my best friend in the world, my son, is gone, and the fact that I didn't defend him harder back then bothers me. I did say "that's not nice, that's my boy, he can't help it" or some shit, these years ago, when X was a fixture in my life..but he would still act grossed out and say things about Rocky's leg.
I just don't want to see him right now. He's not a bad person, but I know he never cared about his pets the way I do. They just were kind of there, animals his parents chose to have, and he didn't sleep with them or tell them he loved them or anything.
I just don't want to talk to or see anyone who didn't love Rocky and know how much he meant to him. So basically I've only been seeing my family and Ray. Ray would always talk to Rocky and pet him and tell him what a cool cat he was. He was his favourite. Whenever strangers came over, they always fawned over Baby because she has unusual colours, she's very furry and soft, etc..Rocky was a tabby, which I guess is a common colour configuration, and more standoffish. He had to really know you to come see you, or get a good feeling about you. He'd always jump up on the counter whenever Ray was in the kitchen and Ray would pet him and just look at him and say how cool he was and call him "Rocko Johnson". Ray was always more a fan of Rocky. He likes Baby, he thinks she's cute, he knows she means the world to me, but he really loved Rocky, they had a special relationship. It gives me comfort when I repeatedly say to Ray "You loved him, right? You really liked him a lot? He was a cool cat, right? You promise you'll never forget him, even if we break up?" and he reassures me yes on all counts. He just listens to me cry and hugs me and reminds me how much I loved Rocky and that Rocky knew that.
But what if he didn't? What if he thinks I abandoned him and let him die? I just hope he knows if I had known he was THAT SICK sooner, I'd have tried to do something to help him. But he seemed alright. Even two Saturdays ago, August 11th, the day he died, I had no idea he was really going to DIE. I thought "Okay, we got to get the money together to get him to the emergency place so they can give him a transfusion.." but honestly, I didn't grasp that he was really, REALLY sick. He just sat in that corner of the dining room, drinking water every so often, just sitting there, sort of half asleep. I am so glad I had that last morning with him. But then the horrible last half hour or so..trying so hard to get him to the vet in time...and knowing he was dead but hoping they could revive him..and then holding him wrapped in that towel like a baby, and he looked like himself but it was just bizarre because he didn't feel right, he was so limp, and his eyes were open..my poor, poor boy. I wish I could erase the memory of that last hour, when I gave him the water in the dropper, and frantically calling my dad and Rocky collapsing while I was on the phone, and driving to the vet like a maniac, begging him to stay with me the whole way, and getting there and them telling me there was nothing they could do, and then holding him for that half hour..
I guess I'm glad I got to hold him one last time. I would give anything to hold him again, even dead.
But it was so horrible. It just seemed like it couldn't really be happening.
Every day I have to remember he's gone.
I keep picking up his blanket and pillows in the living room window. I don't ever want my mother to get rid of them. I want his fur on those things forever.
Baby never went in the living room very much. A few times over the past few weeks, she's lain (laid?) down in the ray of sunlight on the carpet there, just like Rocky used to. I wonder what she thinks happened. I am pretty sure once he came back from the vet she knew he was pretty sick..
I don't even remember if I wrote it in here but the vet said Baby is healthy, with extraordinarily healthy teeth with no visible tartar, good breathing sounds on both sides, normal temperature, etc.
That it was probably just a cold that would work itself out.
But then a day or two later she started sneezing, way more than before. I mean, she'd have a bout of like 8 sneezes at a time.
I got worried.
But what could I do? We couldn't afford another vet visit. I hope it is just the tail end of the cold, which includes sneeziness.
And since Friday morning, she hasn't sneezed. My mother says since I left to go to Ray's, she hasn't seen Baby sneeze at all. So maybe that's better now.
I just can't help worrying about her. It makes me sick in my stomach. I can't lose her. I love her so much, and she's all I have. So I am just trying to believe she's alright. The vet would've noticed if some part of her didn't feel or look right.
I'll be going home again tomorrow. I can't wait to see her. I have an appointment Monday. Then Wednesday I have another appointment. I hate appointments. I don't see the good they do.
Oh..I went to the doctor last week. The regular one and the psychiatrist. The regular one said I have bronchitis. And to not smoke, it was like putting a match to fire, or some shit. But I can't just QUIT. It doesn't work that way. Then I googled bronchitis and got scared because it said if you keep smoking you can damage or ruin the cilia in your lungs, which protect them. And get COPD. I don't want that. I want to not smoke, really..but I just can't deal with that right now. I don't have the money for e-cigarettes. And my boyfriend still smokes. It's going to be hard to be around that if I'm smoking fake cigarettes. Maybe in a few months I'll try it.
I don't have a fever anymore, but I'm still wheezing.
The cough syrup they gave me..see, this is just evidence of how unfamiliar regular doctors are with the details of antidepressants. The dr I saw had never heard of Emsam. And when he said he was prescribing a cough medicine, I said, "Well, does it have DXM in it? I know you can't have DXM on MAOIs" and he was like "I'm not sure about that..well, the computer will tell me if there is an interaction." And the computer showed no interaction. But then I spoke to Walgreens who informed me there was a "major, major" interaction with the syrup he prescribed and my Emsam. So..why the hell is a DOCTOR's computer not capable of catching this but a PHARMACY's is?! Scary. So they got him to prescribe a different one, but I looked on the little information packet about the other one, and it says "Additional monitoring of your dose or condition may be needed if you are taking:....selegiline". What does additional monitoring of my dose or condition mean?! So I called the pharmacy and the lady I spoke to was not the same person who'd warned me of the interaction, she just insisted that since this syrup did not contain DXM it was fine.
Then why that warning in the information packet?
So I left my psychiatrist a message asking him if he thought it'd be okay.
I tried the stuff once and it tastes absolutely disgusting, like, worse than most liquid medications, so I doubt I'll take it again anyway..
The psychiatrist went fine I guess. He says it can take 4-6 weeks for me to notice a difference so I am staying on 6 mg for now, I'll see him in 3 weeks and see how I feel then. I mean, maybe I would've gone even crazier if Rocky had died and I wasn't on any medication. But I cried more than I ever did in my life combined, and I'm still crying, so I worry this stuff isn't doing anything. I don't really know.
I just don't really feel like doing anything or going anywhere. Plus, I am broke and have no clue when I'll ever have money again, so it's pretty hard to make plans.
I have done a few things with Ray. We saw Hope Springs (Weird, too long, not very good), The Campaign (amusing), and The Expendables 2 (AWESOME). I've been reading a lot, I guess. And watching Damages. But now I'm all caught up so I can't wait for the new episode Wednesday! I've started another show, Hit & Miss with Chloe Sevigny. Not sure how I feel about it yet, but the prosthetic penis is pretty realistic!
I'm just scared it'll always be this ...heavy weighing on me and always hurt this bad. I can't stand it. Sometimes, for a few hours, I don't think about it that much, but then it comes back and it hurts a lot. I just never ever anticipated how bad this would hurt.
My wonderful little boy. He was just so good. So much BETTER than most people I know. I have a lot of fake friends and frienemies, and I just think, honestly, I'd rather them be gone than him. For example, one person who I may have mentioned before is just annoying. Constantly making jokes and I have to act like he's hilarious all the time, plus at like age 30 or so he does not drive, lives at home, has never had a serious relationship, etc, and just acts like life is all about laughing about celebrities or whatever. I just get sick of it. And they got mad at me for not having the desire or time to drive 20 or so miles each way to go get them and listen to them do their shtick for hours, when I really just don't get much out of it..anyway, we were still facebook friends, and would occasionally comment on each other's posts..then they invited me to a movie showing but it was the night before Rocky died so I ended up not going, and I am almost positive this person is so pissed about that that they aren't speaking to me. They never left one single word of condolence about my cat. Even though they also have a cat and know how much mine mean to me. So fuck them. You are supposed to be my friend and can't even say you're fucking sorry the love of my life died? Don't think I'll be making any effort to see them or even talk to them anytime soon.
My best friend is in California until the 28th. She's really the only person I would want to see, because I could go on and on and on about Rocky and she wouldn't mind. But her boyfriend ...well, I won't get into that publicly, but we both know he's not very good for her, but she has decided to try and "make the relationship work" though it's ..completely hopeless, and anyone can see she's resigning herself to just being miserable..so that's upsetting, and I can't really say anything now that she's for some reason decided to try and stay with him. Not try, she will. She'll let herself be treated like shit. She'll never leave him. It reminds me of the Ani DiFranco song "Fixing Her Hair", which used to remind me of my ex-best friend until she chose her boyfriend over our friendship. I know my current best friend would never do that, but I just hate to see her unhappy when she could do so much better.
and i think
what is this beautiful beautiful woman settling for?
he says he loves her
he says he's changing
and he can keep her warm
and so she sits there like America
suffering through slow reform
but she'll never get back the time
and the years sneak by
one by one
she is still playing the martyr
i am still praying for revolution.
It's just pointless to even get upset about. I will never, ever make her change her mind. She's decided to stay in that relationship, even after all the horrible things she's told me he says to her, and how much she resents him, and he shows that he doesn't give a shit about her feelings.
I can't do anything.
I just hope I can avoid having to see him. I just hope next time we get together I can get some money from my mother or something so I can say "Can we just go to a movie?" because I can't stomach sitting in that dreary room with him babbling on and on. He's extremely conceited (without reason to be) and never shuts up and basically just stifles her. It's just sad.
But it's nothing, really, compared to the only thing that matters, the fact that my little boy is gone. Everything that happens every day, that people write about on facebook, I just don't give a shit at all. I just want my Rocky back. That's all. I would put up with being miserable, with feeling like a mess and not functioning and all that, because I would never have to know the very DEEPEST level of sadness that I did not even know existed before this happened. I thought I was miserable before but I'd give anything to have my Rocky back and feel that shitty. Because that was seriously nowhere near as ..deep and..consuming as this.
This is just the worst. The hardest thing ever. The worst thing that ever happened to me or could happen. And nobody understands because they didn't love him like I did. I loved him TOTALLY and he meant EVERYTHING to me and honestly NOBODY besides Baby was as important to me.
I just want to pet him one more time. One more day with him.
I hate this.
||[18 Aug 2012|10:41am]
My OCD has gotten really bad since Baby has become a little sick. I hate to even say "sick" because it just brings up memories of Rocky and how quickly sickness turned to death. Her eye does seem to be watering less, and she only started making the weird sound while breathing asleep very briefly and it stopped before even a minute had gone by..but she still is sniffling and sneezing a bit. I can't do anything but pray and pray and pray. My incredibly generous angel of an A.B. actually offered to pay for antibiotics if Baby needs them. I know my mother would not want to accept that. But my mother won't have money until her cheque comes, which I believe is the 26th but I'm not sure, and if Baby needs these antibiotics right away, I hope she can put her pride aside and accept a loan. We're basically just going to this free vet appointment and crossing our fingers that they will say it'll fix itself, it's already fixed, or they can fix it and let us pay later, which never, ever happens at vet offices. Well, my mother convinced Rocky's last vet to dispense antibiotics to us and promised to pay him for them after the weekend..but we only ever used one dose :-`(..I'm not sure if she ever did pay him. I kind of think he should just take back what's left and see if he can reuse it or just be like "Well, their fucking cat died, I'm rich as shit, not going to come after them for 50 bucks."
Maybe she did pay him. But I don't know.
I just know that this week she has nothing. When I last saw her she was counting on her boyfriend to buy her some food. And she's got to realise how important it is that Baby stay healthy and alive. So I'm going to talk to her and tell her that if they say she needs antibiotics, she HAS TO let this wonderful woman pay for it. She WILL be paid back.
I cannot lose Baby. I can't.
I'm just trying to keep in mind that the odds of my other cat dying when her brother just died a week ago are low. And she's eating, purring, acting completely normal, other than the sniffling/sneezing/eye/slight wheeziness when sleeping. I now know that when an animal stops eating, they need help right away. I just keep thinking about my poor little boy. Why didn't I realise that him sitting all by himself and not really moving and not eating meant he was REALLY FUCKING SICK? Because he'd never really been sick before, and I didn't know the severity, or how to tell..and I honestly still just didn't get how bad off he was, even after he saw the vet. Nobody gave me any hint that he was about to die.
I just can't believe he's gone.
He's gone. Forever.
Not forever. I know I'll see him again.
But while I am still alive I won't, and that hurts so so much. I wish I could stop remembering his last days, that horrible last half hour. And the half hour after he was dead. It was just so surreal to hold him. He was almost like a stuffed animal. He looked like my son, felt like him, but was limp. Not breathing. I just couldn't believe it. I still can't. And I still hate myself for not insisting they try giving him atropine. But a few people have said that might've given him another day, and what kind of day would it be? Connected to machines? He was too far gone. Cats often hide their illnesses. We just had no idea until a few days before he died.
I just can't stop thinking. This time last week I was lying on the carpet with him. And then at 2 pm it will have been a week since he died. It's so fucking unreal. I miss him so, so much. I just feel so, so bad for him. My innocent baby boy. There are so many people I wish it had been instead of him.
I just keep telling Baby she is a healthy girl, she'll live a long time, all her organs work perfectly, she is healing, she is a healthy happy girl. I came to Ray's house just for the weekend, which I don't usually do but I hadn't hardly seen him this week and if I had stayed at my house I'd only have had like 1.5 days with him. He'll be working tonight and tomorrow night but at least we have time together when he's done work. Though I will probably get picked up before he's back from work Sunday.
I have been having a lot of trouble, though, worrying about Baby. I keep having to go back and touch the toilet paper again, or the nightstand, or step back and forth from the kitchen into the den, until I can picture the right image in my head, of Baby being healthy, the vet telling us she'll be fine, me happily facebooking that she's fine on the way back from the vet..and horrible images of her not being fine, of the same feelings I had when Rocky got sick, keep intruding into my head. I hate OCD. It's such a pain in the ass. Almost everything I touch I have to retouch from 5-100 times to get the right image before I can stop touching it. To keep Baby healthy.
I got sick somehow too. It started like Thursday I think. I started having a throatache and then it got so I cough and can't stop and cough up nasty greenish yellow stuff and I had a fever yesterday. While I was sleeping yesterday I kept feeling like my face and chest were so hot but I was like shivering the rest of me was so cold. Last night I kept getting chills because I was so cold, but then I woke up and felt hot again. I am sort of wheezy when I try to take a deep breath. And the worst part is that you can't take cough medication when you are on an MAOI. It says in the information packet you must avoid DXM, which is in basically all cough medicine. Awesome.
Hey, at least my letter from the DPW came at last (a WEEK after I asked for it..how does it take 7 days to get something to me from like 4 miles away?) so I can hopefully get my loan deferments.. I'm sure there'll be some problem though.
My head hurts so much and I have been taking aspirin and ibuprofen and it seems to do nothing.
I am going to make dinner and go to bed.
|My life gets more nightmareish every day.
||[16 Aug 2012|11:56am]
So Baby's eye had been watery for the past day or so. That's happened before, I suggested when my mom had money, to get her looked at. But then she started sneezing a bit, still not that big a deal..but then she was sleeping next to me at 2:30 a.m. or so, and I woke up to pee, and I noticed that she was making a sound while breathing in her sleep. Like, indicating her chest was congested. First it sounded like a whistle-like sound coming from her nose, but then it was almost a rumbly sort of sound coming from her chest..I was so scared. I thought she'd stop breathing..I felt her chest/stomach and it felt, with each breath, the same way I do, now that I am sick with some sort of chest congestion, like there was something rattling around in there, you know? Each breath felt like something (like phlegm) was making it harder, like she's congested in her chest.
So now I'm terrified to let her sleep. I was given a link to a site that said this place called PAWS gave free exams to pets whose owners lived in Philadelphia and received government assistance. They called back and said that no, it would cost $20 for a visit, and they weren't fully equipped, so if she needs an X-ray, which it sounds like she might, I'd have to go elsewhere. They recommended Girard Veterinary Hospital or whatever, they said their prices are "reasonable". What this woman doesn't get is that right now, my mom has $10 in her account. And won't have any more until I think next weekend. We cannot afford to take her ANYWHERE that charges ANYTHING today. So I miraculously found this coupon for a free exam and consultation at Banfield Pet Hospital. They have a few locations in Montgomery County, but the next appointment they have is Monday. I'm terrified she might stop breathing before then. And I asked them, if she did need an X-ray, what it'd cost, and they said "About $290." ....so we're fucked. I don't know how to deal with this. I can't lose my other cat in the same fucking WEEK I LOST MY BABY BOY.
I'm just trying not to panic.
The lady on the phone at Banfield said "Well is she still eating? Using the bathroom? Drinking?" Which she is, all of them. She's acting same as she ever does. I was like "I just..you don't think she'll drop dead before Monday, do you?" and she was like "Well, I hope not!..as long as she's still eating and not sleeping all the time and using the bathroom and drinking, I think she'll be okay..but if she stops eating or sleeps all the time, you need to take her to an emergency vet." Cheapest emergency vet=$50 for a visit, only if you agree to make them your main vet, like you won't see any others. And again, even if we had the money for the visit, how are we going to pay if she needs an X-ray? Or medications? I am trying so so hard to not freak out. It could be something that will resolve itself, or easily treatable..maybe, as an older, not-so-thin cat, she has sleep apnea or something..but I'm just so, so scared. I mean, she's absolutely fine except when she's like deep asleep. She's napping lightly next to me and not making that noise at all. I think it's cos I petted her like 10 minutes ago so she's in that not-totally-asleep state, you know? But I'm like afraid for her to sleep deeply. I am going to Ray's tonight and so scared that something might happen to her while I'm gone...I begged my mom to borrow money from her boyfriend tomorrow, when he gets paid, if Baby seems worse..she's all like "I really don't want to borrow money from him, he doesn't have any money, he owes his father money.." Okay, but this is BABY! I just hope she stays alright and then we can take her in on Monday and they'll tell us it's something simple.
I just keep thinking what if she needs an x-ray? What if they want to do blood tests? When my mother has money, she spends it. She buys me whatever I need--deodorant, toilet paper, candy, fruit, yoghurt, paper towels, takes me to movies...and she spent like $450 on Rocky's last vet visit and cremation. But that was all the money she had. She does the kind of work where it's either pouring or totally dry. She'll have like 2 jobs in one week, then go 3 weeks without a job. So what the FUCK will she do if Baby needs an X-ray or medication? I am sure I mentioned that both my mother and I were turned down for CareCredit, this sort of credit card for pets that vets take. Maybe I could ask my sister to apply. She has better credit than either of us. We could just pay her back slowly..but what if she's not approved? I just am leaning really hard on my God. I am just praying and praying. Please, please, don't take my girl away from me. Not now. I need her to be here, healthy, a few more years. I just lost my son. You can't expect me to survive losing her too. I just couldn't. I'd have nothing to live for.
So I know pretty much everyone's an atheist but if anyone reading this is not, please, please, just pray that my girl is okay. That she is fine through the weekend, and when I am here to take her to the vet Monday, it's something we can get taken care of. Please. She's all I have.
Of course I love my boyfriend. But these are my children. I know my boyfriend would move on and be fine without me. My cat needs me, and depends on me.. I'm still in disbelief and crying and crying about Rocky. I can't possibly go through that again this soon. I just can't. They really will have to lock me up then.
I just never dreamed my life would be like this. It just keeps getting harder. I thought Corbett's budget eliminating my income was the worst thing I'd have to endure this summer. I had no idea at all the capacity for pain the heart possesses.
|This is going to be a long entry fucking deal with it
||[14 Aug 2012|11:31am]
Rocky died. I can't stop crying. I mean like my whole body is wrenching and I feel like I can't breathe.
The vet had given me the impression the antibiotics might help. Unbeknownst to me, when he called my mom to give the lab results, he actually asked if Rocky was still alive. Thus HE knew how bad off he was, but I didn't. Shortly before 2 pm Saturday, I called the emergency vet and explained the situation, that I'd been turned down for CareCredit, asking if they could work out any sort of payment plan. They said that the owners weren't there, so they couldn't authorize that, but if I could just bring in a few hundred dollars, they could at least take him in for the weekend, give him the transfusion, and then work the rest out Monday. The woman on the phone said "If there's any way you can get even a few hundred dollars, you really need to bring him in, your cat sounds pretty critical." So I called my father begging for the money. He said I should just show up there with $20, which was all I had, and say "Listen, this is all I have, but my cat is very very sick, I can pay you every week, just please see him"..and as I was talking to my father, Rocky stood up, then sort of looked dizzy, like he couldn't walk right, and collapsed onto the carpet where I had my computer. He started having a lot of trouble breathing. He was making a horrible rasping sound, and his breaths were abnormally far apart. I got off the phone and ran upstairs and got the keys to Ray's car and the carrier and when I put Rocky in the carrier, he was like a rag doll, he didn't fight me at all, he just like..fell into it in a pile..I had a very bad feeling, but he still was making noises.
So this horrible, horrible drive to the vet, which is near Plymouth Meeting Mall, was the worst. I was almost screaming, just saying "Jesus, Jesus, please, please, save him, please, let me get there in time, please don't let me lose him, please God, please protect him, please let me get there please please please..Rocky I love you so so so much please hang in there"..the rasps were getting farther apart..but I went through a red light to turn left, I drove as fast as possible in traffic..but shortly before I got to the vet, the sounds stopped. I knew what this meant but I kept thinking "maybe he passed out, or is just being quiet, or if he is gone, they can resuscitate him"..I ran in and said "Please, I don't know if my cat is alive, can you please try to revive him if not, please" and they took him right away..and then led me to a room and someone came in shortly after to say they were sorry, there was nothing they could do, there was no heartbeat. I said "But can't you use the paddles, the defibrillator thing, to shock him" and they just said no, no explanation..the girl was like "We have medications, like atropine, I could try, but I'm telling you they most likely won't work." I said "What is the likelihood that would work?" and she said "Very, very low." I SHOULD HAVE TOLD HER TO TRY IT ANYWAY. I am so fucking angry at myself that I didn't tell her to try it anyway. But I was thinking "How would we pay for that" and "What if it worked but he was brain damaged"..I just didn't know what to do..I just wish so much I'd told her to try that..I was pretty much hysterical and they kept telling me to ssh, I guess because other clients were out in the waiting room with their fucking HEALTHY ALIVE PETS..I said I needed to see him and they brought him to me wrapped in a towel and it was so, so horrible. I just held him for a half hour or so. I kissed his little perfect ears but I got tears on them so I had to wipe them off. I kissed his chin. I just held him. His eyes were open and he looked alive..it was horrible. They said they couldn't shut his eyes though. He felt like a rag doll, and if I reached up to wipe my eyes, his head would like loll back. I just can't get that image out of my head, of him in that blanket, already gone..I wish i could just hold him again, even then, when he was already gone. I would give anything to hold him again. I just can't stand this. I can't have him be gone. It happened so fast.
I didn't know he was that sick. He'd just started being lethargic and not eating in the past, like, 3 or 4 days..we thought he might just have a cold or something..I had an appointment Saturday morning, that always involves a lot of waiting, and I might not have been able to get back to my mom's until 2:30 or 3. I was trying to decide, Friday, whether to go to the appt or not, and Ray convinced me that I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Rocky and I had chosen to go. So I canceled it. And it turned out Rocky died around 2 o'clock so I would have probably still been at the appt or on a train. And my mom had work so he would've died all alone. Saturday morning he was just sitting in the corner of the dining room, occasionally drinking water but just sitting there..he'd start howling which was obviously in pain, and then he'd stop..I woke up around 9 and brought some magazines and my computer down and just lay there on the dining room floor with him all morning until he collapsed and started to make that horrible noise, which I suppose was a death rattle. But what if I'd gotten him to the vet sooner? Maybe they could've saved him. I didn't know he was dying! I swear I didn't. I made that chipin page and FUCKING NOBODY contributed..I mean, okay, it was only up for a few hours..but still..I just thought I'd somehow raise enough money for him to get the transfusion and in the meantime the antibiotics would help him..we only got to give him one dose of the antibiotics. I gave him the liquid one, and it seemed like he didn't swallow it totally, and then I gave him the pill, and he fought me a little bit, so I thought, "He's okay, he still has life in him, he'll be okay.." Right before he collapsed, the vet called and said "I forgot to tell you, after the liquid antibiotic, give him the syringe full of water. I don't want him getting just the liquid antibiotic without water afterwards.." and I was like "Uh well I gave him the antibiotic a half hour ago should I still give him the water now" and he said yes. So he didn't seem to like it, but he didn't collapse for another, like, 2-3 minutes..I don't think it was the water that killed him, he didn't seem to choke when I gave it to him...it was just so sudden..when I saw his side like going in really deep while he was trying to breathe and make that horrible sound I knew I had to get him to the vet..but the rasps were farther and farther apart on the car ride, the worst car ride of my whole life...I just thought they could resuscitate him..the doctor said without an autopsy (a necropsy or whatever the animal version is) she couldn't know what killed him, but since he was very, very anemic and losing a lot of blood, it might've been sudden blood loss that just caused cardiac arrest..I wanted an autopsy but of course we couldn't afford it. It's normally $300 and they offered it to us for $150 but we couldn't even afford that. My mother was still at work and they called her but the connection was bad..I told them I wasn't sure what she wanted to do, could they just keep him there until we could talk about it..
Driving home was so so so horrible..I didn't want to leave him, I should've stayed with him more..I would give anything to hold him again..my perfect, beautiful boy..I just didn't know how sick he was. I thought he'd come out of it. But his mouth didn't smell right. I know how his spit is supposed to smell, and there was a weird smell coming from his mouth..and his gums and tongue were like not the right colour..but I thought they could fix that..the antibiotics would make him stronger and then we could get the money together to treat whatever it was..My mother wanted to get Jackson to bury him in the backyard. I have heard many stories of other animals digging up buried pets. Plus, I just don't like the thought of him rotting in the ground. And I read that unless you have a wooden or metal box, ..things can get in and eat the body. And we only would've had a cardboard box. But my mom wanted to do this because it cost money to have him cremated..but then Jackson's car wouldn't start. I really, really didn't want the body just sitting in a box in our house, decomposing, until whenever Jackson got there. And the dirt in my backyard is very, very hard. I tried to make a garden there years ago. I don't even know if he could've dug that deep. So as we were pulling up to the vet, my mom was like "If money wasn't a factor, would you rather have him cremated" and I said yes..so she went in and asked for him and they brought out this cardboard box and we didn't look inside or anything but I reminded her what she'd said so she asked about cremation..it was fucking $270 for "private" cremation, where you get to keep the ashes. She just didn't have it. It was $100 for "public", where he's fucking cremated with any other animals there whose owners couldn't afford a private one, and the vet disposes of the ashes. So that is what we had to do. But I didn't want to bury him in the backyard. It might not even have been possible, with that dirt. I asked them to let me see him one more time and they said no, you're better off just remembering him..why? I was allowed to hold him the day before when he was dead..they just said "It's just better that you don't." THAT'S MY SON, I WANTED TO SEE HIM. I guess maybe rigor mortis or something made him look weird..but I still think they should've let me see him..they gave us this little clay mold of his paw print that says "Rocky". I feel horrible that we couldn't afford to keep his ashes.
I've been crying so, so, so much. I just kept saying I want to die so I can be with him. And FUCK YOU if you don't believe in God or that animals have souls. I fucking do, and I know that he is in heaven. And I just wanted to die so I could see him again. I can't imagine the rest of my life without him. I can't stand this. I have never felt this much pain in my life and never felt so unable to handle it. I remember when I was younger and guys would break up with me I would think it was the worst thing I'd ever felt, that I couldn't keep on living..I was so fucking naive, that was NOTHING. I would rather get dumped a million times than this. I'd rather be a paralyzed quadriplegic who can't speak or move any body part but still have my boy alive than this. I wish it was me instead of him. I just can't stop crying. And so I called to see if my therapist had any cancellations and somehow she actually did and of course once I mention I can't see how I can live without him she says she thinks I might need to be institutionalized. I have BEEN THERE BEFORE and that does not HELP AT ALL. Sitting in groups listening to other people whose fucking bullshit problems are NOTHING will not teach me to cope without my son. Plus, I am unable to shower in a hospital. I just can't. So I wouldn't be able to stand staying very long. And some of the doctors there might not even be familiar with the medication I'm on so what if I ran out? They might not be able to get more. Or know what it can't be taken with. I don't want to be in a hospital. I just wish I could figure out how to live with this. It's really, really hard in the morning, waking up and then remembering that my boy is gone. GONE. He's DEAD. He was the best, most brave, sweet, ferocious, handsome, loving little boy in the world.
I honestly don't care how fucked up it sounds, but this is so much harder for me than losing any of my grandparents I've lost, or my two friends. I guess because at least they were human, and with most of them I had some idea it would happen soon, and they'd lived long lives..and this was MY SON I was supposed to protect and take care of and keep safe. And he was INNOCENT and PURE. He never did anything mean or cruel or hurt anybody. He just didn't deserve this.
I just keep replaying it over and over and over. Him collapsing, how his side looked trying to take breaths and rasping. The horrible rasping and driving as fast as I could and screaming to Jesus to save him and let me get there in time. And I feel so bad that that's how Rocky died, in a cat carrier, in a car, with me frantic. But I was TERRIFIED, my worst nightmare was happening. I was just focused on getting to the vet as fast as possible. I just couldn't believe he would actually die there in the car. If I had known he was about to die, I would have reached my hand in the carrier and pet him..tried to comfort him..I did tell him I loved him so much, but I was begging him to hang on..I just feel so bad he died hearing me so frantic..but I was BY MYSELF and so so so so so scared. And then I just keep picturing him dead in that towel, and holding him..my boy, with no life in him. How on earth am I supposed to live with this? How can I ever, ever go back to any sort of normal life where I go to movies, watch TV, laugh? My son is gone. Yesterday I just kept pounding my fists on the corner where he spent his last hours and running my hands through the carpet and screaming. "YOU WERE HERE YESTERDAY. YOU WERE ALIVE. YOU WERE SITTING HERE. JUST YESTERDAY." I just can't believe it. If only I had gotten him to the vet sooner. I just thought they wouldn't take him without the money.
It was just so, so fast. He was fine a week ago, purring, jumping up on the island to be brushed, eating normally..
I just can't believe it. And most of my "friends" are atheists so I have no desire to talk to them, or any fundamentalist Christians who don't believe animals have souls. The God I believe in wouldn't make such wonderful, loving, innocent creatures and not have them go to the same place humans do. I have to see him when I die. I have to.
I really don't want to talk to anyone.
I'm just worried about when Baby is going to realise. Maybe she does, because she was sitting in his window, on his blanket..or maybe she just thinks he's temporarily gone like when he was boarded at the vet for a month to treat his wound..I'm worried about her, but she's been acting fine, purring, sleeping with me..but my mother told me I have to try to stop crying so much because it will upset Baby. I can't. I physically can't. I wish I could but it's all I can think about and I am afraid I will never get over this. I always thought that nothing would happen to my cats until I was mentally stable and could handle it. I already was barely getting by, not handling anything well, and then this happened. Out of nowhere. I keep looking at his little pawprint and picturing him dead in the blanket and it just doesn't make sense. How can my son be gone? He was just here. My poor, poor boy. He was so innocent. I can't stand this, I really can't. I don't know what to do. I don't want to go to a hospital. I just have to find a way to live with this and wake up every day and remember he is gone. He was the best boy in the whole world. He had so many skin problems and allergies, they were really bad when he was younger ,and he had to go to the vet so many times..but he never scratched or bit me, he never acted put-upon when he had to have a bandage on his leg or cone on his head..and he made it through all that. His back wound was better, his leg wound almost better. So why this? The vet called because we asked when she was back to call with an educated guess based on the file from the other vet. She just said she couldn't know for sure without being able to look inside, but it was probably a tumor..if only we'd had the money to take him for a checkup in the past year maybe we'd have caught it..
Some of Valerie's asshole friends and a few people that I considered friends would make fun of his leg wound, because at one point it was red and raw and hard to look at. They'd call it "vagina leg" or say he had leprosy or something. This hurt me so bad. I will never, ever forgive these people, even if I am friendly with them now. He couldn't help it, and he dealt with it bravely, and he was a better person, a kinder, sweeter, more benevolent soul, than 99% of the people I know. Who the fuck makes fun of a cat with a wound? Someone with bigger problems than I have.
I just feel so bad for him. All his skin problems, fucking douchebags who made fun of him, his wound and skin irritation itching him, and then he mostly got over that and then got extremely sick and died within like less than a week. He didn't deserve this. I know some people who I'd much, much rather have seen this happen to. I just love him so much. I love him. I can't stand this. It hurts so, so much.
||[11 Aug 2012|01:34pm]
I feel like I can't take this. Rocky stopped eating, and kept sitting by the dining room table, lethargic. My mom took him to the vet, spent basically her entire paycheque, got blood tests, and all they can tell us is he was dehydrated and is very anemic. They think it is probably lymphoma or a tumor. They can't know for sure unless they do an x-ray. I just spoke to the vet and he said what he really needs soon is a blood transfusion. He said he can't do it at his office, that we should take him to the emergency vet and admit him and they can take care of him. I asked how much a blood transfusion costs. He said $900-2000. I am completely freaking out. Rocky's been intermittently drinking water and just lying in the corner of the dining room, listless. Twice today he started that horrible howling like he's in so much pain, and I seriously thought he was dying. He started breathing in a laboured way. Thank God it stopped. But I don't know what to do. I started a Chipin page, which is sort of like Kickstarter, where people can contribute to a cause. Please if you can possibly give anything at all, or just pass the link on to someone who has money to spare and cares about animals. My cats are everything to me and this is completely tearing my heart out. I literally can't do a thing. The vet said we can try giving him an antibiotic and it might help, and since we can't pay today he's letting my mom pay Monday, after she'll have her cheque hopefully for her job today. But he said even if he knew it was a tumor and was removable, Rocky is not strong enough for the surgery right now. Maybe the antibiotic will help him..but it's going to be difficult to get down his throat. And the fact that he's still not eating is very upsetting. I just can't stop crying. My face hurts from crying so much. I'm not leaving my house until he's better. Or, God forbid..you know. I just can't imagine life without him. He's only 13. He's already been through so much. He's so brave and innocent and good. I am begging anyone who happens to see this to tell anyone they know "hey there is a wonderful sweet brave cat who needs medical care and his owner lives on less than $12,000 a year so she can't afford it, can you please contribute something, anything, for his treatment before it's too late?"..I feel like..this just hurt so, so much, seeing him like this. I can't stand it.
Here is the link for his chipin. http://rockypryor.chipin.com
I am going to apply for this thing called CareCredit..but I doubt I'll get approved. I've got to try everything though. This is just unbearable. I never thought I could feel this much pain.
||[09 Aug 2012|09:41am]
Not much to report, really..well, I went to The Cheesecake Factory for the first time. I would never have been able to afford it WHAT WITH MY ONLY INCOME TAKEN FROM ME BY OUR AWESOME GOVERNOR, but my mother was very generous. She had a few jobs recently and even though she's very behind on pretty much all her bills, she gave me some money because my friend is moving to California and this was pretty much the last time I'd see her. The wait was pretty long. I mean, even after we were seated, it took a good 20-25 minutes to get our orders taken. That's unacceptable. It wasn't even that crowded at all. The waitress actually came BY our table, saw that a nearby table had spilled ketchup, and stood there SUPERVISING the busboy cleaning it up. Rather than trust he can handle it and take the order of the people who're hungry and WAITING, she felt she needed to STAND THERE watching him clean up ketchup. WTF. I wasn't like super hungry so I got a burger. I wish I'd had more money and been really hungry because the entrees looked good. We shared a piece of cheesecake and I let her take the remainder home. Dammit. I wish I hadn't. But I am nice.
Then I had to rush home and shower because we were going to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the TLA. I haven't been to see it in years, because it's lately only ever been at these Monster-Mania conventions, which cost a good amount of money just to get into, and I have no interest in the actual conventions, plus they're in New Jersey, which is hard for a carless person to get to. Anyway, it was good to be back. I just remember, ever since the first or second time I went, feeling like "Man, this is where I belong. These are my kind of people, united in an obsession about a bizarre movie." Unfortunately, the chairs were not too comfortable and my ass kept hurting. Plus, it was pretty hot in there and I kept having to wipe sweat from my face. But I am glad I went. Even though I misread the sign at the parking garage and had to pay $28.00 for less than 3 hours..my sister gave me $6 towards it (because we both originally thought it was only $12, thus she'd intended to pay half), but still, that was..sucky. We went to a diner in Glenside, even though I hate diners, hate diner food, and that one especially is not very good, even for a diner. I was hungry though. But had very limited funds, and my sister only had $7 on her debit card, and the diner insisted on a $10 minimum so I got her her cup of soup. It's not a big deal, because she's bought me food before, and just plain given me money. But I just hate that our only option was Wawa or a diner. Both have shitty food. I got grilled cheese with horribly unripe tomato. For some reason, all diners in the Philadelphia and Montgomery County area have switched to these nasty, nasty batter fries. They're covered in this gross crispy stuff. Pretty much inedible.
I was running on literally less than an hour of sleep so I was glad to get home and slept most of the next day. I haven't done much since then, as I now broke for the foreseeable future. My mom is expecting a cheque for a job she did a week or two ago, but agencies that do entertainment for parties are pretty shitty about paying their artists. They'll say the cheque's in the mail and it doesn't come for 2 weeks. She said when she gets it she will put a little bit of money in my account. So today she said she'd call me after she sees if it comes, but she has a doctor appointment at 3. So won't be home til at least 4:30. My bank closes at 5. Mail doesn't come til 4. So she'd probably not be able to put anything in my account til tomorrow. I appreciate it, and it's certainly better than nothing. I'm just so tired of this. And there's absolutely nothing I can do to make my case be decided any faster. Food banks are pretty much useless to a carless person, and have very strange hours, and there aren't any very close to where I live. As I may have mentioned, generally they don't give you much of anything useful anyway. Processed nastyass bricks of cheese, cans of okra..the spaghetti and cans of peaches are good, but it's really hardly worth the trouble. I just don't really get what Corbett thinks poor people are going to do now. Does he honestly think that the amount of food assistance the DPW gives is enough to actually last a month? Because it's not ever. I guess he just figures "well, if they're really unable to work, then they'd be receiving SSI or disability, so they don't need welfare!"..forgetting the thousands who are waiting years for their cases to be decided or on appeals. I am pretty much just trying not to freak out. I know my mom will help me as soon as she can. It's just random. I had money over the weekend. And okay, sue me, I spent some of it going to a movie and paying extravagant parking fees. But that's one thing I truly enjoy, and I haven't been to see RHPS since like 2007 at least, and I did NOT know the parking was going to be that much. I have to get out of the house sometimes. I am so tired of always reading or watching TV or sleeping. I just want to get OUT so I don't give a shit if you say "Well, you should've saved your money and anticipated you might need it this week". I didn't know what my mother or my partner's financial situation would be this week. I just wanted to have a good time over the weekend and I mostly did.
I went to see my dad Monday. He had a client and was on the phone for a while so we didn't actually talk that much, but it was still good to see him..he's going to send letters to the collection agencies hounding me.
I finally spoke to American Education Services, and they gave me this temporary forbearance, and said I was eligible for the Economic Hardship deferment. However, when I looked at the form, it said I must enclose proof of receiving government aid. Um, I started receiving it a few years ago. I didn't save my original award letter. So, I called my caseworker. She returned my call and said "You have to call your permanent caseworker for that." Uh, you're the only one I've dealt with, so why would I think I had a different caseworker? Whatever. I called this other lady, and the phone just RANG AND RANG at least 25 times. Who the hell works in government and has NO VOICEMAIL? So ghetto. I don't understand. I NEED this form, this forbearance only lasts like a few days. This is just so ridiculous. And once I do get hold of her, I bet she'll say she can fax it to me. Well, I have no fax machine, and my mom's can't receive faxes, only send. I just know they'll say they can't be bothered to mail it to me. And the DPW is waaaaaaaaay down Frankford Avenue, and I don't have the gas to get there. Plus, it's a horrible, depressing, dreary place, and you have to wait forever for anything there. So I don't know. I guess I'll try calling her and explain I cannot get there, can they PLEASE just mail it..
I am really tired of ground beef. There's just not that much you can do with it. I had Hamburger Helper the other day, then spaghetti with ground beef the next day, and today it's Hamburger Helper again. There's this one really good flavour of Hamburger Helper, but I can't ever find it in the stores! The others are blah. I really don't like them that much. I just don't get why the one actually delicious flavour is impossible to find!
I had a therapist and psychiatrist appointment the other day. I did not go to either. I shouldn't have scheduled two appointments for one day. Whenever I have that, I just start freaking out. It just always really upsets me. Besides which, I was already upset about other things. And then my stomach got upset. So then the doctor was all calling me like "Well, I really need to see how you're tolerating the Emsam" blah blah blah yes well I canceled an appointment, crucify me for it! I rescheduled! It's a fucking pain in the ass to get a ride to appointments, especially if I am coming from Blue Bell. And even those Logisticare passes they offer, they're useless coming from Blue Bell. There's no bus or train from there to Roosevelt Boulevard. I suppose there's probably some combination of like 4 or 5 buses that might do it, but seriously, I hate public trans way too much to do that. I just hate going anywhere, really.
Two people came to see the house Tuesday, and one yesterday. It's really fucking annoying. One of the people unplugged my fan. Seriously? You're looking around someone's room, why would you unplug their fucking appliances?! PLUG IT BACK IN IF YOU DID IT BY ACCIDENT. I just can't even see how they'd accidentally do it. My little surge protector strip thing is in a corner between the bed and nightstand, so they'd have to have been like bending down inspecting it..there'd be no reason for that. They must've unplugged my fan on purpose, but I can't imagine why. Rude.
My cat started FREAKING OUT the other day. He was doing this really pained, upset mew, that he usually does when this other cat is hanging around outside the window..but I looked, there was nothing outside. I thought maybe he found a mouse or something, but he wasn't chasing anything. I did see Baby sniffing the carpet, so maybe there had been some sort of insect or rodent, but it got away? He just wouldn't stop doing this really upset mew, and then he actually looked like he was hyperventilating or something, he was breathing way too fast. We just tried to pet him and talk calmly and calm him down. But he stayed like right by the dining room table, like staring at it, for a while. I wish he'd have caught whatever he saw so he'd stop being upset. He seemed okay later, and was purring..but I am worried. I hope that's all it was, just some animal or insect he saw..but I am afraid maybe he's sick or something. God forbid. I love that little boy so much and it was so upsetting to have him be so upset and not be able to do anything about it. I just hope he's okay..
Time to make Hamburger Helper. Today's flavour is taco somethingorother. I hope it's good.
||[27 Jul 2012|07:18am]
So the realtor is bringing people here to look at the house at fucking 9:45 am. Seriously? Who has to go and look at a house THAT EARLY? Don't these people have jobs? Ridiculous. So we're going crazy trying to clean. I really hate vacuuming, I get so sweaty.
I am really tired of hearing about this whole Chick-Fil-A brouhaha. They have been known as a Christian business for years. Only recently everyone got up in arms because all their antigay stuff became known. Fine, that's fucked up..but it's their prerogative. I think the part where that Boston mayor said he will make it "very difficult" for them to put a location in his city is absolutely ridiculous. I have no problem with the Henson company severing their ties. Good for them. But to try and keep them from having their business in an entire city? That's insane. They are a restaurant. And they should be allowed to set up restaurants anywhere, and then it's up to CUSTOMERS to decide whether to eat there, knowing their CEO is bigoted. It's un-American and just mind-boggling to me that someone would try to block a company from even having a location in a certain city because they disagree with the boss's beliefs. They have a right to exist and attempt to make money anywhere they want. I don't agree with Dan Cathy, but he's allowed to believe what he believes, and run his business, and consumers can determine whether they want to support such a business. What if a mayor of some other city is a vegan, and decides to block all meat-serving restaurants from trying to open locations in that city, because he disagrees with meat-eating? I mean come on.
I read recently that a Wawa is opening in Florida. You know, when I was a kid, I loved Wawa. They had good hoagies. But over the years, they've just gotten so bad. I don't ever get food there unless I am super hungry and have no food at home and nothing else is open. I always regret it. I just wouldn't even call their hoagies hoagies, they're so nasty. Their breakfast sandwiches are okay, but nothing to make a special trip for. I guess I like their smoothies, but still. The main thing people love is that you can get sandwiches at any hour. Have they not TASTED those sandwiches recently?! Or is it just the ones in Northeast Philadelphia and Blue Bell that suck now?
So we're going to an early movie (Only $5 at Franklin Mills!) while the people look at the house. Then I guess we will eat and eventually go to sleep..but I slept a lot yesterday/last night, so will probably stay up watching Damages. I also downloaded the three Tales of the City miniseries (miniseries-es?). My mom has a job today, tomorrow, and Sunday so I really don't know when or if she'll be able to pick me up..and I have to be back in this area by Tuesday at 1 for this group I have to go to :/.
There really aren't many good yoghurts in America. It's quite disappointing. I miss the ones in France so much. I mean, I still eat yoghurt, but they're just so blah. I only really like select flavours of La Yogurt, YoCrunch, Yoplait, and store brand fruit-on-the-bottom..but none thrill me like French yoghurts. Sigh.
I am really very upset about Sherman Hemsley's passing. I want to wear my George Jefferson shirt but over the years it shrunk and is way too short. I may try, though..
Reading through facebook just makes me super aware of how many people I pretend to like but don't.
I may be going with someone I used to be good friends with and kind of don't really know how I feel about them now to see Rocky Horror at the TLA August 4th..but it's such a dumb way to do things, you can only get tickets at the TLA or Tattooed Mom's. They really should have some sort of online ticketing system. Even the Colonial Theater sells tickets online, and I am sure they're a smaller operation than the TLA. It's just really hard for someone without a car and money to get down to the TLA. I'm just hoping they don't sell out and we can buy tickets when we get there. I don't know. I really want to go. I haven't been to RH in many years, because they hardly ever do it anywhere besides Monster-Mania conventions, which cost more money and are always in New Jersey.
I am sick of appointments. August 7th I have fucking two appointments but they're like 4 or 5 hours apart so I will have to go home in between. I know I have to do these things but I really hate going to them. I hate the Boulevard, I hate the waiting room, I hate trying to talk about my stupid life. I don't ever accomplish anything. I just don't really think much can be done and maybe both of our time is being wasted. I know she tries, but I can't seem to adequately make clear how shitty my life is and how fucked up my relationships are and how much more help I need than I am getting. Which brings us back to "well, nothing can be done, budget cuts, you see". UGH.
I am reading a book of short stories my mom got me. She mistakenly thought I'd read another book by the author, and bought this cos it was on sale somewhere, but I actually really like it. It's called Boys and Girls Like You And Me by Aryn Kyle. Well, one or two of the stories were predictable, but still compelling. The last one I just read was really good. I like having a good book. I ordered a few more from the library but it'll be a few days.
I am still playing DOS games and getting frustrated because the sequels to shareware games are always a good deal harder. Still, it's something to do..
I miss my cats. A lot.
||[25 Jul 2012|06:50am]
It seriously feels like a miracle has happened. I went into my therapist's office yesterday and she was like "I had to get your chart from the doctor's office..and look, it says here Emsam--approved for 6 months." I was like "That probably just means he approved it, not my insurance." She was like "But why would he have had your chart yesterday? Why don't you call your pharmacy and see?" And I called Walgreens and lo and behold they said it was now covered. So even though he never responded to my voicemail, apparently my doctor decided to be the badass I know he is and called or wrote Keystone Mercy and schooled them. I just keep laughing and picturing him getting all pissed, all full of righteous indignation, all saying "Listen, motherfuckers, I AM THE DOCTOR, not you. If I'd wanted her on Nardil or Parnate, that's what I'd have prescribed. I have a MEDICAL DEGREE, you don't. Bitches, I know what's best for my patient, and you will COVER this motherfucking medication or I will go seriously medieval on your ass." I mean, obviously he'd never talk like that, but it cracks me up to picture it. The guy at the pharmacy said he sounded pissed when he called them (meaning the pharmacy). I bet he was! Who the hell is Keystone Mercy to say he doesn't know what's best for me? He is the DOCTOR. He's like the wizard of Oz. He's all-powerful and he got shit done, super-fast. I was astounded.
So now I think I will apply my first Emsam patch today. I know there's still the possibility that it won't work..but at least it's something DIFFERENT. Not another SSRI or SNRI. I'm really excited. It's just a little irritating cos the box is all "Wash area with soap and water before applying and make sure the area is not hairy"..um. People hair hair on every part of their body. It says to put it on your outer upper arm, chest, back, or upper thigh. I think everyone has a little bit of hair on all these places! :/
The receipt said "Your insurance saved you $730"something. So I guess if I were an insurance company, I'd not want to pay $730 a month if I could avoid it. But they are DOING IT. I just hope they feel salty. They thought they could fuck me over but did not realise the badass doctor I have in my corner.
So, please, pray that this works. Please, God. PLEASE. I keep trying to picture myself feeling better and actually feeling like life is worth living. It is possible. I am not stuck this way. This will work.
I can't believe the doctor did that for me. I have to send him a thank-you note. I had this letter written out with a list of reasons for him to give the insurance company for why they need to approve the Emsam..and was worried he'd still not want to do it..and here he already did it. I don't know what he said..but it worked! I'm just amazed. I am sending him a thank-you card, but I also went to two different doctor-rating sites and gave him good ratings. Here is my rating on ratemds.com: http://www.ratemds.com/doctor-ratings/2752290/Dr-RICHARD-YUDELL-Villanova-PA.html
(Dunno why it says Villanova, I guess he has a private practise there or used to.) I think it is nice to leave a rating about your doctor when they are awesome. I like the concept. Kinda want to go and give bad ratings to previous shitty doctors now.
||[23 Jul 2012|11:58pm]
i hope that you can hear
hear me singin through these tears.
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