----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Show So Far Maybe I got the title for this entry from Monty Python, only my life this year has not been funny at all. I haven't been laughing. Except when I get so fed up, then I laugh like the Joker for awhile and wonder how I'm not going to run through the streets causing complete destruction and death. But I always hold myself back. So good for me. This is day 4 of being on anti-psychotics. I gave in and started taking them, because I am afraid if I'm not zombie-fied at least a little, when the city comes here to take my family's land and destroy all my hard work I'm going to do something that is going to end me in lockup, or the mental ward you don't get out of easily, or at least get me a court date. And then probably the prison mental ward. I have had to take a nap every day. My vision gets blurred. I am disoriented off and on. I have been eating like a caged animal that has nothing else to do. But do I feel less psychotic? Yes, I think I do. I feel my anger but it's like it's further away. I can't quite reach down and pull it out as quickly or as often. And am I less depressed? No. I am about the same, except I am resolved that there is nothing I can do about anything. ANYTHING. I am pretty much fucked. Fucked in every sense about every thing. It feels like a waste of energy to try to care about any of it. To try to do anything about any of it. This is what my karma has slapped in my face. I deserve all of this, and I deserve all the horrible things that are coming. Just lie down and take it. Fighting will only make it last longer, make it worse. January I had my annual pap test. Then a few days later I had massive bleeding and cramps. I thought I was hemorrhaging. I considered sitting naked in the bathtub because I could not keep up with changing my menstrual pads fast enough. But I didn't because I thought I'd just grab a razor blade and just give myself some fucking peace instead. It's stupid to try to kill yourself when there is someone else in the house. I don't want to be perceived as some pathetic spoiled woman who puts out a cry for help, I want a final solution. And my husband is ALWAYS IN THE HOUSE. My mattress topper is still completely soaked in blood, even though I had put several layers of towels and sheets under me while I slept. I can't afford a new one and it's disgusting. Then in February I got a URI. I think I got it at the clinic when I went in for my pap physical. My husband got it too and we had to take antibiotics. I don't know what it was, exactly, because I didn't want to go back to the clinic that made me sick. We just took the antibiotics we had left from my husband's psycho stash left over from him thinking he had every disease in the world. Black market drugs from India are great. In Mid-Feb I felt better but I was still bleeding so I was able to get in to see a Gynecologist. I had to see a male doctor unless I wanted to wait another month. I really couldn't handle the bleeding and I wanted to die, so I went for the sooner appointment. Turns out I have uterine fibroids. He put me on birth control pills and my cycle has been regular ever since. It feels like a miracle and I am so thankful. I am also thankful that he gave me a years worth of refills so I don't have to go back right away. While at the gyno he tried to perform a procedure on me that, I learned afterward, they usually put people under for. I have never felt so much pain in my entire life. I was so scared and so sore and so sick for weeks afterward. And he wasn't even able to get the tissue samples he needed so I'm supposed to go back but I can't. There is no way I can go through it again. For several days after the appointment all I could do was cry, pull out my hair, rock back and forth and try not to kill myself. It hurt and it was emotionally triggering and traumatic and I really hope I can talk this stupid fucking man into just forgetting about it. Otherwise I may just try to get my birth control from a place like Planned parenthood, or my local clinic. I'm slowly getting over it, but I have to contact the doctor at some point and it's hanging over my head. I have been trying to find a psychologist for several months now. There is absolutely no one in the Des Moines area that is taking new patients. At least, not new patients on Medicare. The big mega clinics have walk-in hours that start at 8AM, and you are expected to show up day after day at the crack of dawn and maybe you can get in to see someone (maybe not). I don't have faith that anyone of any skill works at the mega clinics, anyway, and there is no way I am going to get up at dawn, ride a bus for an hour and wait at a hospital every morning for months just to see some shithead that gets all their skills from the internet. I can read self-help books myself, thanks. Then last month the city sent a letter letting us know that they are going to take part of our land to put in a sidewalk. It's getting pretty nasty now. My brother (the legal owner of the property) has been talking with a lawyer and I don't know what's going to happen. I'm pretty sure I will have to move the 6 bushes, two honeysuckle vines, dozen hostas, 3 peonies, 3 thyme plants, 30+ irises, lilies and flowers away from the fence and try to find new homes for them somewhere in the back yard away from bulldozers. But my brother says to wait.... I worked so hard when we got here to save as many plants from my mom's 1,000 square foot garden and put them places so they could turn the garden-turned-jungle back into yard. It cost almost 7 grand and I was out there working day in and day out. I got really sick, my feet were split almost complete down the middle from using the shovel so much (I called them canyons), I had heat stroke a few times and I was just tired. But everything I moved survived and is doing really well now. I was admiring how well everything was doing and feeling a little pleased with myself. My hard work was paying off. And aside from a tiny bit of help from my husband, I did it all myself, which boosted my pretty much non-existent confidence. I began thinking that maybe I'm supposed to work with plants and maybe I could find ways to help people with their plant troubles. Now I just don't feel anything. I have lost my faith in everything. I used to think we all had a purpose. Now I think it's all meaningless. We exist just to exist. Like bugs. I used to think that people came into my life for a reason, now I think I've been ascribing reason to essentially random acts just because I needed something to hold on to. I think everyone just settles with everyone in their life. You make decisions and then you are stuck with them forever. Like committing a crime. You never get to live any of your decisions down. Ever. As a result I have had a hell of a time making any decisions at all. All I want to do is drink and watch stupid TV shows. I was sober for 9 months, then the flooring guy showed up. Awhile back my brother hired someone to put in new flooring. I thought it was a good thing. Then the guy showed up to do the work, and he was a tweaker from hell. Long story short: The work should have taken a day and half. It took over 3 weeks and the owner had to come in and re-do everything the original guy did. That meant having strangers in my house day and night for weeks, banging, sawing, making noise. I was trapped in the bedroom, trying to keep my cat from having a fit. I got the letter from the city about the sidewalk the day before flooring tweaker showed up, so I was already on edge. AND my brother had to go to India for work while they were fucking up the floors so I couldn't even contact him and ask for help. Oh, and they broke our toilet in the process of flooring, did I mention that? That we were without a toilet? Yah... And then I had the shits and vomiting for about 3 weeks. I think tweaker flooring guy made me sick. Maybe I drank too much. Maybe it's just stress. Maybe it's cancer. So I just gave in and started drinking. And I pretty much haven't stopped since. And I feel so much better just accepting that I'm a drunk. It's not the alcohol that is the problem, it's me. I'm the problem. And that's it for now. I got a beta blocker prescribed for my anxiety. I have Latuda for my bi-polar depression/ psychosis, and I have birth control for my physical issues. So now I'm on 3 drugs a day, plus whenever I can afford a bottle. Ain't life grand? 1:52 PM - Sunday, May. 14, 2023 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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