I hate this feeling

I'm sick again. Not the type of sick that would require a rush visit to a hospital or anything, so everyone can take a collective breath, and refrain from calling and yelling at me, thanks. But my lupus is having a field day, and I hurt. And because I've been kind of stressing out lately, my speech has gone wonky on me as well. It's been this way for days.

Unfortunately, there were some calls that I *had* to make, regardless of how crappy my speech was doing. One of which was to my new prescription insurance company, because I needed to make sure their formulary covers my meds, because I can't afford them any other way, and I don't live without some of those medications. C'est la vie, right? Unfortunately, I got a customer service representative on the phone who was a complete asshat, and I was already having a bad day.

While I am aware that I talk painstakingly slowly when my speech is impaired, I *am* understandable. I use very small words, and I'm very sorry for that. But there was absolutely no call for the guy to cut me off and ask to speak to my mother, as though I were an incompetent child. In my continued, painstakingly slow manner, I asked for his supervisor. To whom I explained that I have a brain injury, and that I am a fully functioning adult, and that I was checking on the status of anti-seizure medications, along with several others, and that I was extremely insulted by that particular customer service rep. And I don't really care if I got the man in trouble. That was exceedingly rude and uncalled for.

And while I was explaining this, and I was upset...Mona laughed at me :( She says I sound like a four year old who is just learning how to use big words. And while I know she's right, it doesn't change that I feel rotten. And coming on the heels of "Can you go get your Mommy little girl?", it was just an all around suck.

And I laughed it off, because I know she was just teasing me, but I can't control how I talk any more than I can control getting sick the way I do.

And I hate it more than anyone else could possibly imagine, this complete lack of control. There is nothing worse for someone like me, someone who has always been articulate, been a functional adult sounding person, to be forced to sound like a child verbally. I stutter, and I sound like a fool, and people mock me continuously. And all I can do is sit and take it. And the worse I'm mocked, the worse my speech gets, because the more upset I am, the longer it takes to regain the control. And I'll be this way for the rest of my life.

And don't get me wrong, I'm grateful than I'm alive. I'm unimaginably grateful to my surgeon, the one who left me with any speech at all. I can walk, and talk and communicate. I'm grateful to be alive. I am. I'm grateful for a lot of things.

But being mocked and broken and handicapped is disheartening at best. And at worst, it's crushing. It's heartbreaking, because I can't sit and cry and wail about it. I can't even explain why I'm upset *when* I'm upset, because I don't have the words to explain it. All I can do is sit in silence, and watch the people around me, and be frustrated at my inadequacy.

And at the root, that's how I feel now, almost all of the time. I'm inadequate. I'm sick and broken and a half a person. When I'm feeling fine, it's great. But when a flare hits, and my speech goes out, I feel like less than real. Inadequate. I can't take care of a child. I feel irresponsible because I can't make "plans" and know that I can keep them set in stone, because if I have a series of bad days, no matter what plans I've made, I simply may not be able to handle them. Some days I simply don't drive, no matter what I had going on. The State of California says I can. *I* say I cannot. I choose, responsibly, not to put anyone else at risk.

I feel inadequate right now, because of the mockery this week. And I can't even argue about it, because my speech has gone from bad to worse every day for the last several. And all I want to do is cry. And I'm tired of that.

Secret word of the week

This week's post is brought to you by a fantabulous guest blogger.

Me.

Just One Man Speaking.

I hereby decree that this week's word shall be...

Sardoodledom.

Thats right. You heard it here first.

Goodbye PNATWYMHH readers. I hope you had as much fun reading this post as I had writing it. Which is to say none at all. I don't particularly like any of you. Especially you, the goofy looking one in the back. I'll be keeping my eye on you. Anyway, goodbye again goobers, and always remember:

"Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur."

Open blog to the masses:

I got home on, um. Friday? No, wait. I got home Thursday night. And I didn't call anyone, and I didn't log onto the internets, because I was exhausted and sore and didn't feel altogether great, so when I got home, the only people I talked to were still in Nevada, letting them know that Tanya and I got into town, were safe, and then I got to my apartment, and shut down my phone. I saw my roommate for approximately 30 seconds, long enough to wave at her, and go into my bedroom. And no one outside of that room saw me for the next eighteen hours. Because I didn't feel good, because I hurt, and because honestly, I had been gone for days, and all I wanted to do was sleep, and lay in bed. So that's what I did. I didn't answer the phone. I didn't log onto the web. I didn't even check my email. I did nothing. I took pain pills, and I stayed in bed.

I guess I missed a lot of things during the not-answering-my-phone-and-myspacing.

Imagine that. I didn't feel a need to call everyone in creation, or check Myspace, or Facebook, or blogspot. I guess I thought the world could revolve without me for a few days, and that everything would be fine.

During my absence, I've apparently lost a couple of friends, because if I'm not available 24/7, then we're obviously not friends. Sucks to be me, huh? And I want to sit here, and try to muster up the energy to cry, but I just can't. These same people tend to ignore me for healthy amounts of time when they have other things going on, and I don't generally think much of it. I guess I always operate under the assumption that they have lives and things going on that are of a higher importance than a daily phone call to me would be, and that the world won't stop revolving if they don't check in with me. The same courtesy does not apply both ways, it would seem.

Joy, Mona and Danny saved Christmas for my friend 'Chelle, because she had some serious health and financial issues all at once, and she has two sons who wouldn't have had a Christmas, and I found that unacceptable. But because Danny and I split up recently, I don't have the normal financial resources that I used to have. So my friends pulled together, and put Christmas into play for the boys. Which was awesome of them, and I was very proud of them.

But a few days ago, I guess Joy suddenly started feeling as though she wanted kudos for her part in the Christmas deal. I got a slew of calls and text messages wanting to know why it was that 'Chelle wasn't gushing thanks all over her, or something along those lines. Now, I very much passed along thanks to Joy about the Christmas saving, and whatnot. I haven't been answering my phone, as I posted above. I haven't really been talking to anyone except Phillip in days, because honestly I'm a horrible horrible person, and I was out of town and I missed him and I wanted to spend time with him. Sue me. At any rate. The last of the text messages and phone calls that she left whining about feeling taken advantage about Christmas and how I never return her calls and basically just whining in general ended with how she feels used for spending the money that got spent, and she guesses she just isn't allowed to hang out with me anymore. When that last message came through this morning, I just kind of rolled my eyes, and decided to not say anything at all. I'm tired of it the BS. By the time I had decided to start returning calls after pulling out of my hibernation period, I'd been written off, and now I'm at the point of simply not giving a shit.

And then I opened up my chat program.

And there was a message on my chat program that said something odd, about how 'Chelle was feeling as though she was unloved or some such shit because of being not ranked high enough on my Myspace top 8? And she'd been dropped on Phil's top 8. Um. OK? So I went and looked around to see what the fuss was about. And people just kept getting pissier and pissier. And at the end of the day, my decision was to simply drop my top list on Myspace to 4, leave my boyfriend, and put my relatives as the other three. And at this point, I'm about to make four bogus accounts, make them all ME, and put up all four, and just be self-centered. I don't know why all the piss-fest. I'm not sure I even care. But it had nothing to do with me, and everybody is being snotty. The fact is that wherever she was on my top 8 is where she'd *been* on the top 8 for weeks. I hadn't changed it in a good long while. So now I'm just tired of the bitching.

To be perfectly honest, I don't much want to fight with anyone. I simply want to be happy. I am finally happy with Phillip. He and I are happy together. And all of the people around me who are bickering amongst themselves, and have a problem with the idea of him and I are making me tired.

I have waited ten years for this chance. I won't give him up. I'm sorry if my friends can't understand that. I'm sorry if it's going to cause dissension in the ranks. Sorry if they're feeling neglected and ignored and angry. But I'm not going to put him aside for them. I'm not going to put him aside for anyone.

A while ago during a conversation I said to someone that second to my daughter, he is the most important thing in the world to me. And that's true. It pissed her off, and I felt bad about that. But the easy simple truth for me is that I was given something precious, and I will hold it with both hands, and treasure it. I learned a hard lesson, and will value it accordingly. Words have value. And treating someone with the respect they deserve means something.

I will continue to treat people the way I would want to be treated, whether they treat me that way or not. And I will continue to be happy with Phillip, because I have that opportunity.

Everyone who doesn't wish us well can go their own way. I'm sorry for that, but if that's the way it has to be, so be it.

Merry Christmas from Nevada

Which is where I am right now, because that's where my kid is. I got lucky, and a friend of mine's father lives about a half hour from my parents, and she was heading up to see her dad, and I caught a ride, so I got to spend Christmas here.

I miss Phillip, though. A lot. It's good to be here, but I miss home, and him.

It's actually been good. I don't like holidays in general, but this one has been good. I made some custom ringtones for my little brother and my mom. Watched my little cousins and my kid and everyone open presents. Saw my family. It's been a good day.

But I'll still be happy to go home. I'm never going to be warm and fuzzy about holidays. It's just not me. It's nice, and even kind of peaceful. I'm writing this with my daughter and my little cousin sitting on the floor next to me, and they're playing together while I type. And that's nice. But this isn't my home, and this isn't my life, not really.

I'm an outsider. A visitor. And I don't know. Maybe if I lived here, and was here all the time, it would feel normal? But because I don't, and I'm not, I'm a guest. Weird.

Anyhow. Merry Christmas to everyone. Happy Yule. Happy Holidays. Be well, and happy, and I hope everyone had a good day.

Secret word of the week

New word of the week is:

Backlog

Take it any way you want.

Love, Crystal.

Being alone

Or rather, living alone. I was thinking about it, yesterday. When I finally move to Nevada, which will happen eventually, although I'm not sure when. It's mostly a matter of paperwork at this point. My Dad will be helping me with that. Except for the month and a half or so before I had my daughter, I've never really lived completely alone. I mean, yes, I lived alone with my daughter. But completely alone, just me. Not really. I always lived with someone. Monkey, or a roommate, or a boyfriend. Always someone. Never just *me*. So when I finally go to Nevada, and get my own place...it will be just me. And that's kind of a daunting idea. Not an unpleasant one, just...strange. It's odd to think of myself as a thirty year old woman who has never really lived completely on my own.

I'm trying to decide where in Nevada I want to be based. I know for certain that I don't want to be in Reno. It's not my style. Nor do I want to be precisely where my parents are. That's a little too remote for me. I guess I need to sit down with my parents and scout out what's available to me, and what my options are. I need to talk to some people and go around and see precisely what will and won't work. Because I know myself well enough to know that I don't want to be completely isolated. But neither do I want to live in a bustling city. There has to be some sort of middle ground. I wish I was more familiar with the area. Dad will know. Perhaps I should call them. In fact, I think I will call them. I'm already a pain in their asses, a little more certainly isn't likely to hurt much.

I'm feeling a little out of sorts, with the holidays and 'Chelle ill, and things so awkward in my life. I'm off center, and I don't know how to handle that. It's unlike me to not know how to handle things. My normal way of handling this is to simply bolt. And I know this is not an option now. Neither is giving orders. I've definitely met my match, as giving orders now doesn't work in these circumstances. He basically tells me to shove it. And I can't particularly argue, because he's generally right. I'm not used to someone who can stand up to me. I'm not used to having someone who is so evenly matched with me. In every way. It's a very peculiar feeling.

When life isn't fair

My best friend had a heart attack. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I can't help. I can't make it better. There is abso-fucking-lutely nothing I can do. I am powerless in the face of this kind of horror. It's a week before Christmas, and her children are terrified. My godsons are scared to death, even though they don't know precisely what's going on. The hospital can't release her, because they aren't altogether certain why she had the attack in the first place, which means there isn't a concrete way to prevent it. They aren't certain what's damaged. The doctors are basically unsure of, well, anything. Fucking yay.

And I'm angry, and afraid and...what? Disturbed. And frustrated. Because I don't like the feeling of being so powerless to not be able to help. Yes, everyone pulled together to put Christmas together for the boys. Because that's what we do, when it needs to be done, and that's handled. And the things that needed to be handled have been handled. The basic day-to-day details are in good shape. But that doesn't change the fact that she's sitting in a hospital room, and for the most part I can't even really go and visit.

Stupid lack of an immune system. With everyone in creation in a hospital carrying germs, I more or less have to stay clear, because I can't risk going and picking up an infection of any sort that will make me sick. So I'm basically completely useless. Yes, I risked it when she called from the ER, because I couldn't not go. But now that she's been admitted, it would be great folly indeed to just hang about in a hospital and I know better. Especially right on the heels of my own physician having told me to steer clear of large crowds and places where I know there will be germs.

And it sucks. And I don't like it. And I don't know what to do.