No Lightning…But Kinda Pissed

First off – let me say that most of today was just fine. That’s why I’m only kinda pissed.

I went to my hometown during the all-school reunion festivities today, & made my first stop my parent’s house. Because, of course, I did! I’m a good daughter!

Dad was out of town, so it was just Mom and me, & we ended up wandering the town to look for Dwight Knuth, the gentleman who wrote his autobiography, & featured one of my blog posts in it. We met up with him at the school, & talked to him for a bit. It was really, very nice & he had to have a hug from us both when we parted.

Then.

We went in search of the shadow box my dad built for the school which holds my sculpture of Horton & the book, Horton Hatches an Egg, which I mentioned features my hometown in it.

See the teeny little plaque at the bottom?

Know what it says?

“Donated by the Class of 2015”.

#&#%@$@%$+$+%((#!@!!?#-#-@!

WHAT!?!

Nothing, and I repeat…Nothing about how my DAD built that wooden box FROM SCRATCH… Nothing about how a member of the Class of 1988 created the sculpture.

Nothing about the hours of time it took my dad to handcraft each piece of this shadow box. The measuring, sanding, staining -painstaking work that he put into this piece, making sure that each shelf fit perfectly into the enclosure, and would hold up over the years. 

This is not a “company-made” piece…this is a hand made, one-of-a-kind piece of artwork. 

But no one knows that, because my dad is too humble to ever push himself forward in that manner. He’ll never tell anyone about the work he put into it.

Just that the Class of 2015 Donated it.

Ungrateful little shits.

Pisses me right the hell off.

Did I get a thank you?

From my Dad, yes.

From the Class of 2015? I got fuck all.

Anyway…

After that, Mom & I blew that popsicle stand & went downtown to have lunch, retreating back to their place afterwards.

I did stick around long enough to hit the “street dance” too… (Nobody was really dancing, more like milling around the street, drinking & listening to a band play really loudly)

I did end up running into some classmates, & had fun talking to them, catching up with where they are, what they’ve been doing, how old we’re all feeling anymore…

And before I knew it, it was almost 11pm, & I had to get the hell out of Dodge. I hate driving the highways so late at night, after hitting a deer a few years back – it makes you a bit jumpy & skittish while driving alone.

So, I’m home, safe. I didn’t smite the town with lightning…although I’d like to smack some little ungrateful wretches from the Class of 2015…

And I scored some homemade strawberry jam out of Mom’s freezer…so…definite win.

So, no lightning, but still kinda pissed.

Thanks, Though







And the stray gets put to the side of the road once again on the journey of life…

I’m used to it now.

The pain of being left behind…

The confusion as they leave, with no explanation, no thought of anyone else’s feelings, & just a merry wave…because, hey… She’s resilient… She’ll bounce right back & find someone else. 

They think that because they don’t see the brokenness that follows… The destruction of self I never allow anyone to see.

All they see is the mask & the automaton that goes through the daily motions, existing until I can rebuild from within, slowly, excruciatingly, piece by piece.

The only one who never left me…is the one I had to push away, because he was a toxic liar & chronic breaker of promises. And, is still stalking me to this day. 

Something seriously wrong with this picture.

And DON’T tell me “Well, maybe you just need some time alone”. 

Fuck that.

I’ve been alone for 6 years, considering how many times I’ve been dumped, ghosted, benched & dusted.

But, I’m fine. Just tired…

Thanks, though.

Truth Bombs

Dropped some truth bombs tonight.

I don’t know if it was Because I’m at the end of my tether, emotionally, or because I’ve been taking more of my antianxiety meds…or just because I’ve had more bullshit to deal with lately than I can successfully shovel…

But, I let the cleansing begin.

First, I talked to my Mom. 

We discussed a lot of things on the phone tonight, about what’s been going on in my life, what my parents have been dealing with (they’ve been helping a friend deal with the loss of her husband, and it hasn’t been easy), and about OnlySon’s graduation. 

While on that subject, I told her some of the family members I’d sent announcements to… And my brother was not on the list.

She wasn’t happy about that.

But, as I tried to tell her…

I don’t have his contact information.  Ever since he & his family moved, I’ve lost touch. We don’t call each other, don’t move in the same circles socially, & haven’t had much to say to one another ever since he wrote his venomous email to me a few years ago, which prompted me to cut off contact with him.

She tried to tell me that “He’s totally changed, & didn’t mean any of those things anymore”.

When I told her that he’d never said he was wrong, had never apologized or attempted to make amends, she said he never would.

So, I told her “And I can never forget, nor forgive, what he said. He destroyed any hope of a relationship he could have with me, so why should I have any consideration for his feelings? He doesn’t want me to be involved with his children, so why should he be involved with mine??. He once stated that his little sister was dead to him. He was right.”

And that ended that conversation.

Then… it was time to handle Truth Bomb #2.

I received an email from E today.

Begging for forgiveness, and threatening to take his own life if I don’t take him back and talk to him.

Emotional blackmail.

After having been emotionally abused in my last marriage, I swore that it would never happen again.

So I let him have it with both barrels.

He has a preteen daughter.

I called him selfish and a coward.

I told him that if he could fight for his country, then he could damned well fight for his daughter, pull himself up by his bootstraps, & prove to his child that she was worth sticking around for, instead of turning her into an orphan.

I told him that it was time to stop laying the blame of his feelings on me, and take responsibility for his own actions and choices.

And that, obviously, he’d never listened to anything I’d said, didn’t know who I was at all, & had some fantasy built up in his head of who I was, and that he’d better get over it, stop lying to himself & everyone else, go home & treat his daughter better than he’d treated me.

I also told him that I’d take responsibility for my own culpability, that I’d let him talk me into lying to family & friends about all the secrets he’d asked me to keep for him, but that he’d asked me to do that at all was reprehensible and morally objectionable.

Finally, I told him that, after all this, I’d been right to stop trusting him, that stooping to emotional blackmail was sick, that I had been right to put a stop to the relationship when I had, and that I wanted him to stop trying to contact me ever again.

The calls would not be answered, & would, in fact, be automatically rejected.

That texts would be sent directly to spam, & I would never see them.

Same with emails.

And I never answer unknown numbers, so trying to reach me from another phone wouldn’t work.

This – needs to end.

And if it means being a stone cold nuclear bitch from now on…

Bombs away….

Cooped Up

The wires are getting tighter.

Yesterday ended on a bad note.

Halfway through my day at work, I had a panic attack. Sudden, shaking, throat-clenching, heart, racing and pounding at the same time, chest tight with fear. I couldn’t look around, just knowing that everyone was staring at me. (They weren’t, logic tells me this, but panic doesn’t recognize logic)

I had to tell my supervisor I had to leave right now, and she understood. She knows what’s been going on, some of what I’ve been dealing with with E, & that my anxiety has been bad. But this panic attack kind of took the cake.

When I got home, it was all I could do not to crawl under my covers & hide. As it was, I had sharp, stabbing pains in my stomach, more blessings brought by the panic fairies, thanks, & had to curl up with a heating pad till they faded.  Thank all the gods for antianxiety meds…even if they make me groggy in higher doses.

I couldn’t even talk to my Beloved Nephew on the phone last night, it was just too much. I needed the silence, the darkness, the….nothingness….

And today, it seemed as though it lingered, yet. It’s not completely gone. But, then, until this situation with E is resolved, until I know that he’s out of my life for good, I will remain wire-tight…and that’s going to be rough.

Case in point…

I had to go to Hellmart today, to stock up on supplies for OnlySon’s graduation party. I wore my earbuds while shopping, as usual, so was OK for most of it. But, when I got in line, there was this one woman who got in line behind me, who almost sent me over the edge into another panic attack.

Or, I almost attacked her. 

One or the other.

See, I have this thing about Personal Space.

I like some.

Especially around strangers.

And she got up in mine.

Like, really CLOSE.

LIKEREALLYREALLYCLOSE.

As I maneuvered myself around my cart, putting some distance between us, she closed in again…and I angled the cart to prevent it. She glanced my way, as I quickly looked down to avoid her eyes. Eye contact is to be avoided at all costs to maintain personal space, folks.

For a minute, I thought she was going to move my cart, she came so close to putting her hands on it, I was actually going through responses in my head, ranging from a simple “Don’t” to a more direct “You need to take 3 steps back, Now.” And, I had a fleeting thought that, from the look she gave my cart, she really contemplated rifling through my stuff, including my purse.

My hands clenched, my face heated, my chest tightened, & I could feel my breathing getting shallower, the closer I got to the cashier. I needed it to end, quickly, so I could get the hell away from there, & her. 

As I told a friend, later, you could almost SEE the porcupine quills standing up off my skin as I stood there.

Luckily, I was able to get the cart angled across the aisle in such a way that the woman couldn’t get any closer to me, & I got my stuff paid for & escaped the store as soon as I could.

But, it was as close as I’ve gotten to losing my shit in public as I ever have.

Ever.

Not exactly feeling like the most stable chicken in the coop right now…

So, it’s back to the lab for the benefits of modern chemistry.

And a heartfelt prayer to KwanYin, for some serious guidance for one of her children in serious need.

Glass

Today is not a good day.

I woke up with a migraine- breath-stealing, nausea roiling, light/sound/smell/touch-sensitive; and all I wanted to do was take my meds & sleep it off. Stress has been high lately, & I’ve had more migraines in the last few months than is normal. I can’t afford some of the meds they want me to try, so I have to deal with them by smothering the pain in sleep. The doctor doesn’t understand… It doesn’t matter if a drug might help me, if I can’t afford it. It’s not even a guarantee of pain relief, just a chance. A maybe. 

I don’t make enough to throw utility money at a Maybe.

Then, I get a call from my regular doctor’s office. 

I have osteo arthritis in my hands, diagnosed by a rheumatologist. Most of the time, my hands, mainly my finger joints, feel as though they are full of broken glass, grating & grinding on itself, just under the skin. Occasionally, when there’s pressure put on those joints, the glass sets itself on fire, just for that extra-special kick.

He told me he couldn’t do anything else, as far as treating the pain long-term went, that I had to go to the Pain Clinic for that. I was to call my regular doc & have her send a referral to the Pain Clinic for me.

They sent a note back to her this morning saying they won’t see me.

Regular doc says I have to call rheumatology doc back, to see what my other options are. 

So, basically, the health care system here is telling me they want someone else to deal with it. No one is willing to actually sit down, LISTEN to me, & help figure out a solution. I don’t know if they don’t believe me about the pain, because no one is actually talking to, or listening to, me. They’re all looking at xrays & blood tests, thinking that tells the whole story.

I’m not a hypochondriac looking for attention. I’m someone who’s been through a lot of medical crap in her life, & because of that, has built up tolerances to certain pain meds. 

I don’t like taking pills. I don’t want to feel stupid & slow at work, & I don’t like the loss of control the drugs make me feel. I’m a control freak when it comes to my own body. I’m in charge, & I hate not feeling like I can say what happens with it.

In 2001, I finally had surgery that fixed a problem with one of my kidneys – that took 5 years & every test known to man & his dog to figure out. 5 years of flaring, excruciating pain, without a diagnosis to even give me a sense of reason. 

In just the past 3 years, I’ve had to deal with having my gall bladder removed due to gall stones & severe pain caused by inflammation.

I’ve had endometriosis, adenomyosis, & an ovarian cyst, which ended up with me having a hysterectomy. Following my surgery, my surgeon said he couldn’t figure out how I’d been walking upright, much less how I’d gotten into the hospital on my own two legs, due to the extensive pain the numerous occlusions of endo & adeno would have caused.

And now, the arthritis diagnosis.

I know pain.

I know how it steals your breath, messes with your senses, & turns your world into a small, very self-focused, & seemingly selfish, place.

I know that other people can’t feel my pain, they don’t understand that – even picking up files, taking a cap off a water bottle, using a pliers to take apart rivets & staples (part of my job, taking apart books held together by these things) – all these things cause my hands to flare, & tears to spring to my eyes because of it.

I gave birth to all 3 of my children naturally, without any drugs to aid the process, & ended up in shock due to blood loss during one of the deliveries.

I know pain. Don’t tell me I’m not perfectly aware of what my body is telling me.

I just want to be able to go to work & live my life without being either half-stoned on pain meds, or in constant, grinding pain.

Where do I turn now?

While I sit here with my hands full of glass, my head pounding, & my chest full of anxiety, depression & hopelessness.

What do you do when all the doctors, the “professionals” tell you that you’re not worth their time…..

Why I Lurk.

My anxiety is so bad tonight, & I should have known better.

Some little time ago, I joined an internet group for introverts. I thought that maybe, if I joined, I’d find some people who truly understand some of the things I go through daily.

Fuck – was I a little too optimistic.

I normally don’t post my own queries in groups…it always seems to erupt into chaos. But, I’d been silent in this group for some time, watching others interact. I “liked” a few memes. I commented once or twice on someone else’s post.  It all seemed to go well.

And I thought that maybe it was time for me to pose a query of my own.

So, I did. I asked my question, which was about me.  It was concerning the effect that anxiety & introversion have on each other for me. I asked if it was possible that my introversion & anxiety seem to feed one another. I stated that I knew almost to the day when my anxiety began to present itself, & that I wondered if that was what caused my introversion to start, or if I had always been an introvert & that the anxiety simply “peeled away” the layers and revealed my introversion.

One woman immediately told me that obviously I wasn’t really an introvert, & that it was all my anxiety causing my issues. 

Yeah, I got defensive. I tried to be polite, I tried to explain myself, but I hate being “diagnosed” based on a 3 or 4 sentence conversation by someone who has no knowledge of my history or circumstances. 

She fired back that obviously I was wrong, she was right, & I had broken 1 of the rules of the group by not being polite.

Fuck that. I was polite. I just didn’t kiss her ass, fall down at her feet, & tell her that obviously she was the Goddess of Right, & I was a lowly Minion of Wrong.

And, she had me booted from the group. 

Exit, stage right.

Shit like this is why I lurk.

I fucking hate confrontations. It makes my heart race, my stomach queasy, & my skin gets hot, I’m nauseated, angry, & anxious.

I can’t stand people who judge others, especially after only just a few words. It reminds me of the presumption that those radio “psychiatrists” could diagnose someone’s problem over the radio after just a few words, & actually help them fix their lives. 

I’m so done trying to join groups. I’m better off on my own, blindly grasping around in the darkness, looking for my own answers.  

Just like my love life, I’m better off not even bothering trying to connect – less chance of being hurt.

Walls up, barbed wire back in place.

Lurk Mode activated.