Folie à Quatre

So they found out about the divorce. I do not know who ratted me out but I can only assume that it was Sister #1. She would have told Sister #2 so that, of course, anyone in a 100-mile radius would now know.

Apparently they have been calling for some time but my husband had been shielding the calls so that I would not have to stress over it until after the holiday. I am very grateful to him for this.

They continue to send snail mail as well. My guess is that Sister #1 did not relay the address I told her to give them -- the 7th cardboard box by the south entrance to the arch ... the only one with the Cosco shopping cart, etc.

Per the latest phone message, my father stated that he would be driving up soon (perhaps this weekend) to 'take care' of this divorce situation. I do not know what that means and probably do not want to know but I am completely in awe of their delusional thinking.

I haven't seen or spoken to them in so many years. I was informed that they also offered to come up and help my husband with any household chores or repairs. He's a grown man and it's a 3-hour drive. Seriously? There is no making sense of this so do not try.

Years ago, I learned that it is wasteful to make sense of someone that is so illogical. My mother is delusional to a psychotic degree and everyone else seems to fall closely behind. They do meet all the diagnostic criteria for 297.3, or rather, Folie à quatre.

In any event, I am thinking that the time has come to tear out the face of my entire family's reality by speaking out of that which has never been spoken of. It is only a matter of when. I will let you know if I do.

My Top 10 Reasons To Stay Home At Christmas

According to MSNBC, "more and more people seem to be on their own these days. Census figures show that one-fourth of the nation’s households — 27.2 million of them — now consist of one person, compared to just 10 percent in 1950. For that matter, the average American has only two close friends in whom to confide — down from three in 1985, according to an authoritative sociological study released in June. Nearly a quarter have no confidant at all."

To help me get along at during this time alone, I made a list of the top ten reasons why it is better to be home alone at Christmas:

10. Aunt Franny's liver and cranberry stuffing.

9. No fist fights to break up in the yard.

8. No more debates as to who was responsible for the burned Christmas ham back in 1985.

7. Not forced to sit at small card table with five-year-olds who flick corn in your face.

6. No having to be nice to mean people whom you only see once a year.

5. No horrid gossip -- Do not have to hear who is fornicating with who during the lunch hour at work.

4. One less viewing of that damn blonde-kid-movie and his bb-gun.

3. Less presents to re-gift.

2. Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws!

1. Can sit in front of XBox in flannel pajamas, eat pie, and gain ranking points by shooting down all the newbs who just now received a copy of Halo 3.

Attempt At Positive Sappiness #1

'Twas the night before Christmas in apartment #1
when lights went out and all were done
with I in my bed, electric blanket on high
the kitties curled up -- we let out a sigh

Though it had been a rough year
- few triumphs but many trials -
it was enough for my defenses
that I hide in my denial


When up from my bed I arose in a shiver
I thought I would cry and my lip began to quiver
Were there to be no presents, no tree, no shine?
Did I forget it all? I began to whine.

My first holiday so alone
no family but no mire
I tried to convince myself
that my state was not so dire


Since I had a job, a car, and a bed
the heat was on and I was fed
I pleaded myself to cheer up and be glad
tho' reason for gloom, no need to be sad

Thanks to amazon.com I ordered my gifts
They were not wrapped but that should not matter
It was good to have them and should give me a lift
Stay together, be strong, and my heart would not shatter

So back into bed, I nestled warm and safe
Telling myself - "I'm no longer a waif!"
Next year would be better - no Bush, more shoes -
It has to get better and I refuse to lose.

Waiting For Leftovers

As is typical, the sum of this update is that I remain in waiting on HIM to do something other than work or sports. It is one piece of paper to sign but he can't manage that. One sheet of paper so that this marriage can be done. I could actually begin to try and pick up my pieces but he will hold it off as long as possible for his own sake while I wait out another winter in this cold and drafty apartment where nothing works right.

I phone but he does not return calls. I email but he ignores those as well. Over Thanksgiving, he phoned late night and asked if I wanted leftovers. Can you believe that? It seems innocent enough ... but leftovers? Seriously? It is like a nasty joke from fate or whatever being controls irony. All I have gotten from him in forever has been leftovers.

Now in this economy when I can actually AFFORD a house, I have to wait on him again. He has three months to re-finance and six months to sell our house so that I can get my name off the mortgage but there is no reason for me to ever expect that I won't hear of this matter again until 5.75 months from whenever he graces me with his signature. He refuses to even take the time to give me my past year's tax forms or the title to the car as was agreed.

Leftovers. We've done a good job at not hating and fighting each other during this divorce but now I think I've just been stupid. I've become one of those women: smart at everything but alleged love. I left him in our comfortable house so that he would not be so "devastated." Those were his exact words - that he would be DEVASTATED. Stupid. He now says he has "made peace" with our divorce and "has moved on" and guess how I am? Devastated. Stuck and devastated and unable to move on with my life. Unable to make peace because I am waiting on him.

Save Our Canyons

Help Stop the Giveaway of America’s Redrock Wilderness to the Oil and Gas Industry!

No one voted on Election Day to hand over Utah's Redrock wilderness to oil companies. But the Bush Administration cynically chose that very day to advance an outrageous plan that will sell off leases for some 160,000 acres of spectacular Utah canyonlands to oil and gas speculators. While America was voting for Barack Obama and his vision of a clean energy future, Bush and Cheney's underlings were conspiring to plunder one of the crown jewels of our natural heritage for their fossil fuel cronies. Please register your own opposition right now. The auction of Redrock country will take place on December 19.

Update From The Trenches

I didn't know if or when I would return. All that I knew were the directions as they were pointed out by my inner and outer guides. No matter what the conclusion - dead or alive - I committed to finish this fight even it meant travelling to the depths of hell. Thus far, hell is indeed where my journey has been destined. I cannot say that I have not been here before -- only that my previous visits were even less of my choosing.

The blackness has left me so desperate that the only thing that seems an option is to continue to fight. As much as I have tried, it seems the preference to crawl into my hole and stay is a choice that is not mine to make. I am driven by a force that is beyond my comprehension and existence. It does not matter if I die. The only thing that matters is that I do not fail.

It is beyond me as to why I have been pushed and prodded so. It is beyond me as to why my sisters did not get pushed away from that hellhole -- or even my own parents for that matter. I wish to God they had or still would (as I believed it was always possible) but we all supposedly have the right to self-determination. This is just a right that most people do not seem to even know they have, much less select it. Many conclude that I am extremely bizarre or not sane but I stopped listening to them some time ago.

I'm still here. My tag is A54 and I choose to finish this fight.

Update From The Front Lines

Hello,

Yes, I am still here fighting in every way possible directly on the front lines but I will answer your questions:

1. First, am I in a locked psychiatric facility fighting four-point restraints? No ... not yet anyway.

2. Secondly, what am I doing? Well, this is what I do: I go to work most days then most evenings I attend a custom-prescribed therapeutic regimen to constructively deal with my specific traumas. I work at this program so that by the time I get home at night I am exhausted. I am committed to seeing this through or dying - whichever comes first.

The only thing else I do is play Halo (which I am lousy at), pay some of my bills, clean litter boxes, buy cat food to fill said litter boxes, and eat cake. Yes, cake. White cake with white icing from the bakery. I've eaten two cakes in as many weeks alone. No, I have not gained a pound. ... I think because I eat little else.

I do not clean house, my grooming and other ADL's are poor, I have not been to the Zendo ... or anywhere really ... many of my bills are unpaid, and I am doing poorly at work. This is OK because none of these things matter to me at this time.

For example, last week I was informed that I have no motorcycle insurance but this is OK because I haven't been riding my motorcycle. I have also learned that I am about to be sued because I have not been paying my medical bills. This is also OK because many of said bills are for services not rendered. I HAVE NOT received any substance abuse treatment and AM NOT receiving B12 injections. I said cake NOT Vodka. I have multiple therapists so I think they would know if such activities have been going on. Blue Heartless Cross & Shield can pay all the f* lawyers and debt collectors all they want for their own stupidity I need not contribute.

3. Third, how is my health? My heart is broken in every manner possible and I do not exercise. The only other activities besides work and the program are Halo and cake ... so my health? ... ehhh, whatever. I know I'm doing what I need -- that much I can say for sure. My therapists tell me that we can use the devastating effects of the required beta-blocker to our advantage by working with the relentless emotional tirade they bring about as opposed to me being numb, in denial, and generally apathetic. It's kind of like "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel.

4. Lastly, how long is my hiatus? I do not know but as long as it needs to be. I don't feel like blogging and have other writing-type things to do. In fact, I'll probably just go ahead and try to publish all the crap I write so that perhaps I can pay for my non-bills should I decide to do so but I am sure I will blog again regularly at some point.

I do hope you are well and all is peaceful on your front-lines. I do hope the war ends soon so I can stop the obnoxious analogy.

Update From the Front Lines

The War Within is on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time.

My Response

Don’t write to me. I don’t want to hear your sob story of your desire to have your family together once before you die. There is no family here of yours. That you claim to have changed by going to church and reading a bible does not impress me. Your religion is rigid and your hope for salvation is in vain as long as you continue to deny the destruction you have caused. Your pretending sickens me. Even in your skewed religion, there is no forgiveness if you do not confess. I am thankful that you spent so little time at home because her craziness was deadly enough without your endless violence.

You make me sick enough that I vomit. You are a sleazy dirty sociopath and I can only hope that someday I will be rid of your slime. You should be behind bars instead of wandering esteemed through your community with a freedom that I cannot know of and if you ever try to approach me then I will destroy your eggshell world in a heartbeat.

I Don't Know So Stop Asking

Security Guard: "HEY MISS! You can't be there! Come back and step off the gray area!"
Me: "I want to feel the blue light."
Security Guard: "What are you talking about? There are no more trains tonight, you'll have to leave.
Me: ::climbing steps back to street::
Security Guard: "Miss, don't go up there - it is too dangerous. You'll have to call a cab. Let me give you the number."
Me: ::climbing steps back to street::
Security Guard: "Miss, I said don't go up there - it is dangerous."
Me: ::confused ... how to get to cab without going to the street? ::
Me: ::wanders back to platform and sits looking in to the electricity and the void below::
Security Guard: "Are you going to call a cab?"
Me: "There's one more train tonight."
Security Guard: "What is wrong with you? There aren't any more. I'm going to have to phone my supervisor."

Me: ::staring into void::
Me: ::staring into void::
Me: ::staring into void::

Security Guard: ::returns::

Security Guard: "Apparently there is one more train coming through because of the late ballgame downtown ..."

Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::
Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::
Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::

Train: ::horn announces approach::
Me: "Sorry you didn't try for the Olympics but it's not too late for you."
Security Guard: "Thanks, but ... Wait, how did you know that?"
Me: "I heard you."

Security Guard: ::looks bewildered::
Me: ::boards train and leaves disappointed::

Thrown

Divorce after a long marriage is not what I thought. It seemed to be about hate, anger, yelling, fighting, and being cruel to the person whom you had claimed to love more than other ... but it is not like that at all -- that's just what it looks like from the outside ... for most people anyway ... I don't think my husband nor I ever inherited that privilege of voicing hate and anger ... but, like I said, it's not about that.

This failure rips off every scab that you might have mended so that every betrayal or pain that you had thought was gone comes trailing out of the shadows one after another like an angry mob leaving you crippled, shocked, inadequate, unworthy, and primitively raw. Any dream that you had purchased goes under and leaves you completely bankrupt, homeless, and clueless so that all you can hope for is to get to work and back to your latest non-home before more vomit erupts from your now wordless mouth.

It is apparently not fair to ever think that someone will love you enough to fight for you when the reality is that we are all so broken that most of us cannot even fight for ourselves.

August 2nd

• On August 2nd of this year, I had been married for eleven years.
• On August 2nd of this year, my husband signed and notarized paperwork from my lawyer.
• On August 2nd of this year, I cried hysterically for hours throughout the day and spent significant amount of phone-time with a therapist while my husband was able to go about his day.
• On August 2nd of this year, I went to dinner with my husband and we spoke not of the significance of the day. After all, that is the way our marriage has worked. I could have brought it up but he will say that he has nothing to say.
• On August 2nd of this year, I gave my husband a chunk of cash for the specific purpose of buying some 'needed' school supplies but he has changed his mind and I wonder if I've been taken advantage of or I am just not valued or if this is a passive-aggressive way to get back at me. It doesn't matter either way.
• On August 2nd of this year, I received an insane letter from my pedophile father requesting things of me that are ridiculous ... this will have to wait for another post.
• On August 3rd, I felt relief but tucked myself away from contact with others.
• Today, on August 4th, ... more of the same and I speak only when spoken to because I know fetal positions aren't allowed at work or in public. According to him, he would be the one devastated and crushed and I recall that so clearly yet I see it not in him but only myself. I'm wondering if I am a schmuck.

My Buddha Thought #32

"It seems to me that how you live your life is the same as how you would run a business. You have to do things that you don't want to do for the betterment of the whole ... so that the business not only survives but thrives ... even if it makes others unhappy. The key is to play it clean and not dirty. This is also called integrity."

A Cluttered Mind

Today I took eleven bags of old clothing to the charity bin after a couple hours of semi-sorting, throwing away, and packing up what is left of my belongings at the house. It is a huge undertaking to sort through the hopes and dreams that you had ... deciding which to toss, which to give away, and which to keep. I managed to keep the tears away via the MP3 player until I walked into the bedroom where my husband now sleeps alone.

It was immediately that I burst into another hysterical fit of crying and had to sit down. He relentlessly cuts coupons, keeps tiny bits of paper, and leaves it sprawled across everywhere. It was like a bed in the middle of a trash dump. I think he has a compulsive hoarding disorder but you would never guess so. We had always struggled with this issue but I thought he had gotten it under control. The thought of him sleeping alone in that bed with all the mess around him slices a cut through my stomach -- especially since these problems seem to be so very treatable. I cried for him because I know something horrible has probably happened to leave him in this state and I am so sorry. I cried that I have another loss to add to my list.

I'm supposed to gather my financial statements - IRA forms, car title, etc., but I know that they will not be located. I wish I could fix it and I miss him. The next couple of weeks are not going to be easy.

this is what they give suicidal people ...

andI haven't even broken into my emergency stash

None

Have you ever started something big because you believed it to be a good idea? I mean, that thing that you really believed in that only turned into a coaster spiraling out of control so that you don't know how to stop it but you do know that what you've done is horrible and will hurt others? Well, what are you supposed to do? Any choice you make is a losing battle.

Why do I have to be the one who has the power? I do not want it. I don't even know what I am doing anymore. Yes, I already know that I am the only person who can fix matters regarding my self. I am not stupid or so naive to think otherwise. Is it so necessary to continually rub it in my face like nose-in-shit to remind me how much I have failed my own self or is it a way of saying that they know nothing else to do for me so let's just heap some blame on me some more?

Microscopes Are Evil

This has been a difficult week. I can't tell you about it, as you may know, due to legalities of my situation but I can quote you this:

*"There are only two questions that human beings have ever fought over, all throughout history: How much do you love me? and Who is in charge?. Everything else is somehow manageable. But these two questions of love and control undo us all and cause war, grief, and suffering."

This is so true of myself and I do not know what to do about it but let it take it's course. It would be my advice to you to find the answers in yourself instead of some other being. How much do YOU love you and how are YOU in charge of your life? Of course, no one listens to me anyway.

I can take some pills, drink some brew, pass out, see a therapist, act the specimen, or hit a pillow but it all comes back to the same. They like to put me under a microscope or use me for some purpose then go home at the end of the day with no thought as to the horror they have unravelled and left spazzing on the floor. You silly silly people. May God damn you all.

So for the time being I am left to list my debts and assets on a shabby film of paper to be turned in at the most inconvenient of times.

*"Eat, Pray, Love" : Gilbert, Elizabeth : Penguin Books, 2006.

F5

So it is 1am and I am still waiting. I hit F5, then refresh button, F5, refresh button, F5, refresh button, F5, refresh button, Ctrl-F5, and still nothing from him. I wait and i hope and i cry. Will he fold and give up or will he fight for the relationship. He may have already folded already and I just didn't get the memo.

Odd that today I found myself wearing my wedding ring. I don't even quite know how it happened but when I left work for lunch - there it was on the appointed finger. I did not want to take it off either. F5 ... yeah, still nothing. I have refused to admit that he is lost inside his own war and the only person to get him out is his own self. ...or maybe he doesn't want to.

I'd really like for us to just run away and start over again fresh. I want to go home allot and curl up to the couch as he watches ESPN. It wouldn't take me long to get tired of ESPN. I could handle a longer-term separation so that hopefully I would grow and change and become more accepting of myself so that I can just take him for what he is. It doesn't seem to matter though as I'm fairly certain he has given up. I guess I might give up on me too if I were him.

F5 ... yeah, still nothing ...

More Shiny Happy Pills

Dr. Shrink: "I hate to see you like this. The beta-blocker has really pushed you down after you came so far. I'm not going to raise the Nortriptyline until they get your blood pressure under control so I will prescribe you some Wellbutrin to give you a boost."

Me: "I think I'm handling the new beta-blocker better." :: a pill for a pill for a pill for a ... ::

Dr. Shrink: "But still ... you seem so sluggish."

Me: "So you will stop the Nortriptyline?"

Dr. Shrink: "I don't want to stop that due to your fibromyalgia pain."

Me: "I think I just need to get more exercise and see cranio-sacral therapist more."

Dr. Shrink: "Still, you need a boost ::blah blah blah blah ...

Me: ::two antidepressants at once? what is that going to do to me? therapist won't be happy about this. Damn, she's out of town. I don't want to take anything else. I have the right to say no. ::

Me 2: ::Right to say no? You say no? HaHaHaHa ::

Me: :: stop it ::

Dr. Shrink: ...blah blah:: Plus, you are isolating and not enjoying things."

Me: ::I'm not isolating, I'm in hiding. I enjoy the pool and XBOX so... ::

Dr. Shrink: "So take this and we will see it if helps."

Me: ::why can't I stick up for myself and say no? The Dr. seems smart, nice, and practical -- unlike other MDs. Has my personality really changed? If multiple people are telling me so then maybe ... but I'm against taking these meds more than I have to because no one really knows the long-term side-effects despite what they claim. After all, they could be the whole cause of my health disaster as it is. Plus, I have to pay for them full price for all medical for the next $2000 ... I'm such a wuss ::

Dr. Shrink: "...is that ok with you?"

Me: "Huh?"

Dr. Shrink: "Will this time in three weeks work for you? I want to see how you are tolerating the Wellbutrin."

Me: "Ok" ::but I may not have taken it ::
Me2: ::wuss::

Me: ::stop it::

Wails

it's horrible crying crying misery every night don't want to go to sleep. plesae i just want it to stop. please the crying and the wailing and moaning and begging. got what else. screw tapping, screw extra klonopin, screw music, they don't work. it takes a major tranquilizer to knock out the pain but then i wake hungover i just don't want to do it anyore because it doesn't work i just want my bike back i just want it to be over. i wish well for even dead animals on the street i give a prayer but have nothing left for myself to do i just don't know what to do about it. it won't end it is not ending it is not even getting better at all not at all and i don't know what else to do. i don't want any lectures i just want it to stop. i follow the instructions and i am still here every night every night. god i just want it to stop i want it to stop.

My Buddha Thought #42

A couple of weeks ago I fell into a reclusive hiding mode (yes, more than usual) where I avoid contact with most everyone. I've become raw and sensitive so that no matter what anyone says/does or what anyone doesn't say/do can send me into despair.

Of course, no one has noticed that I have disappeared into an oblivion but perhaps that is for the best. It is good to know where I stand with others. I tend to get into either one-way relationships where I do most of the initiation of conversation, events, etc. or one-way relationships where the other person is needy and sucking the life out of me. Not always, but not infrequent either.

Regardless, I've gotten to the point where I now become jittery on the ride home from work only to end up in anxiety during the rest of the evening. Now that some of my health issues are being addressed, I have to actually deal with other things that I'd rather avoid. It's easy to get overwhelmed.

Thanks to Blue Country Magic, I picked up a copy of "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and am hopeful the journey she shares will be helpful to me. Beware, as I will probably be doing quite a bit of blogging regarding this book. I have already been searching for a Guru for myself. I would go to the Ashram in India myself if I hadn't been so close to madness lately (the author's Guru states that the purpose of attending the Ashram is to find one's self but that if your self is near the brink of madness then no one wants to carry you out tied down with wooden spoon in mouth).

For the time being, I've decided that I am overwhelmed by all the stuff I have to take care of. So Self then responded with my Buddha Thought of The Week:

"If you have more stuff than you can manage, then get rid of some of it".

"No matter the frequency, we all have trash to throw away."

I responded by gathering boxes to start sorting through personal belongings at my house so that I can throw away or store as appropriate with the goal being to cleanse myself and do some moving forward.

All this said, I have not decided on when I will come out of hiding. I suppose whenever I feel it is safe for myself and society in general.

BioShocked

I'm not sure quite how it happened. I had promised myself that I would finish all worthy PS2 games (which I did) before going on to the latest console but had not decided on whether to go to the XBox360 or the PS3.

I have always been loyal to the Playstation and detested the XBox but after an analysis on games I want to play and strong encouragement from my co-workers, I ended up bringing home an XBox360 last Thursday. After all, I may as well have a "Property of Microsoft" barcode tatoo on my forehead. To make it worse, I picked up a used copy of BioShock and, as a result, my weekend was rather shot. Not entirely, but mostly, shot.

Before I even hooked the system up I was thinking about how I should spend more time just existing and lessen time that is otherwise sucked up by technology. ...so, there you go, and extra layer of padding surrounding me and my inner world.

Mutes In a Jar - An Immediate Follow-Up

No more than five minutes after my last post I get the phone call: "Want to do dinner tonight?"

Am I a drama queen who blows things out of proportion or am I frequently the only sane person in insane situations? I need to know because I can't tell the difference.

I have dreaded this extra-long weekend because I knew that I would most likely be alone so I made a list of plans and things to do. Every time I make said plans, he phones at the last minute and asks me to do something and I don't want to because I've made plans; however, if I ask him to do something then he does not want to or already has plans himself. If we BOTH plan ahead to do something then I am usually blamed for screwing that up. Sound crazy?

Don't bother analyzing the situation, because enough analysis has been done and after a certain point you just have say 'STOP'. This ends now.

....
....
...

"I'll see you tomorrow instead."

Mutes In a Jar

Despite my faulty history with my latest motorcycle, part of yesterday's personal Fourth of July festivities included me taking a long ride through the local countryside. I knew it was a risk but I felt physically solid and think that such personal freedoms are worth the chase.

Earlier in the day, I had phoned my husband to ask if he wanted to get together today but he declined because he had made plans with his parents. On my way back into town I had one of those pleasant ideas that later turn out to be not pleasant but just plain stupid. I call these part of the 'Pollyannic-Daze-Syndrome' where I experience rare moments of optimism that is unfitting for the situation at hand. Anyway, I decided that I would stop by the house and say hello to these people whom I have not seen for over a year since the separation and this is how it went:

"I parked my bike on the curb in front of the house and went to greet my husband and his dad (who were at the side of the house). With a brief and curt nod my husband walked further to the back of the yard and his father had nothing to say. Assuming they were busy doing yard-things, I continued merrily into the house to fetch my mail and have a good tummy-scratching session with our orange Tabby.

After some time went by and the cat had his fill, I decided to again venture outdoors. As I was walking toward the back of the yard, I noticed my mother-in-law was baking in the summer sun inside of a hot truck. Her head was down in the obvious pose of ignoring me even if it meant she would melt. I did not quite know what to make of this as it was one of two behaviors that my own mother would display -- the other being jumping out of the truck and chasing me with a crow-bar (I never knew which way she would go). Knowing that some unseen poison was being leaked into the air, I continued in the opposite direction to the back yard.

Drinking on his patio, a neighbor noticed me and came over the heartily chat me up about my latest motorcycle mishaps. When I attempted to speak to my husband I was hardly acknowledged and, of course, his father ignored me completely. I was rather stunned that my husband would play this game so I decided it would be wise and leave. The thought that I should go over and roll down the window and ask the woman inside if she needed a fan or some water or a dose of Thorazine was dismissed as I just put on my helmet and rode away from the house and life that is mine but is not mine at all."

I know these family-dysfunctional-situations well and took my usual course of action - leave the premises. What I was surprised at, however, was my husband's reaction -- this I had not seen before. It made me very grateful that I have kept my distance from these people over the course of the separation. I am positive that if I had attended some family function then this same behavior would have occurred but I would not have had the advantage of a vehicle to ride away on. Instead, I would have been trapped in that freezing, hard, and desolate corner in which I had already spent one lifetime.

Overall, I could only conclude that the hidden forces which seem to always drive me, whether nudging or throwing, were trying to make me see that the situation there is beyond my control and that it is necessary for me to leave the premises on a greater level. I knew the chain that binds my husband to a vast pool of poison existed but have lied to myself about it -- hoping eventually he rip it apart. It appears that 'eventually' is going to be a longer period of time than I had hoped.

How fair would it be to myself to make myself endure these types of situations after I fought so hard to escape them? The answer is really irrelevant as it is more of a matter of survival as my thin mentality would erode ... as it always does.

IV You

Happy Independence Day to You

May you have freedom

From all wars - within and without

Well am I Cursed or What?

... so last night I was feeling ok and decided to let the motorcycle get some air when I noticed two of my four custom mods were missing from the bike ... yep, sure enough, someone had to have manually removed them ... anyone else wanna take a kick? ... because when I get back up ...

A Visit With the Happy Heart Doctor

Nurse # 1: I can't hear your blood pressure. Let me get another cuff ... still no good ...

Nurse # 2: Do you have a blood pressure because I can't hear it. You're pulse is tachy at 120 ...

Nurse # 3: I can hear it now, it is 100/70. Is it always so low? Do you feel OK? ...

Cardiologist: ( ::sits down legs straddling apart, hands behind his head, leaning back :: ) Yeah, there's nothing else I can do for you. No magic bullets here. Shouldn't be a problem though - you are fine.

Me: My blood pressure is low and I fall down. I was taking the medicine as you prescribed but my blood pressure kept crashing so eventually I cut it to fourth the dose you had me on and the tachycardia is better when I am able to take it but my BP is still low but I check it to make sure it doesn't get high again. It is hard to function with a heart rate over 100. It was up to 130 over the weekend.

Cardiologist: Yes, I recall that we told you that you could stop taking the medicine since all of your other doctors kept phoning and complaining but it is not dangerous so you are fine. I told them I treat the heart only, not the person. You don't need to be checking your blood pressure.

Cardiologist: ( ::listens to heart::) ...now did anyone in the hospital tell you that you have Mitral Valve Prolapse?

Me: ... um, no ... (::"wouldn't that be your job?"::)

Cardiologist: yeah, it is a leaky valve but it is so minor that you do not have to worry about it.

Me: (:: "thanks for letting me know asshole"::)

Me: Should it be checked periodically in the future?

Cardiologist: No, not at all. You might need to worry about it when you are elderly and decrepit.

Me: (::"... is that supposed to make me feel better about the future? ... wait ... I'm already decrepit ... "::)

Cardiologist: So, I don't want to see you again. Here is a script for a different beta-blocker you can try. Let your internist take care of this in the future.

None

my upper thighs ache and burn since i dropped the ninja again over the weekend. i was going to ride and then ended up locking myself out of my apartment. i had no keys for apartment or car, just ninja. i managed to get a ride to where i keep the ninja by a friend but had to walk to her house and got lost. eventually i made it but then my ride was not so pleasant. i was determined to not be discouraged.

for months i have been studying for the next technical certification in my career queue. i failed the first time and have been determined to pass. for the past two weekends and three weeks i have spent most of my spare time studying for this exam. today i not only failed but scored worse than the last one. as i was walking out of the testing center, the desk-lady informed me that they should stop offerring those exams since there is a global failure rate of about 82%. she was right and now i have to take three others to just get this one.

something else bad happened but i can't write about it here as it might impact the divorce proceedings which i have yet to get a consult for because i can't afford it due to the recent thousands i've spent on medical bills that resulted not in a fix but just more pills.

tonight my bed broke. yeah, the new one ... the place where i go to rest at night ...

i'm told that i really need this three-day holiday weekend. i dread it so much that i taste vomit in the back of my throat as it is a glaring reminder of my aloneness ... my sense of nothingness ... the worst might be that i don't even care anymore about how pathetic i sound ... i need someone to take care of the cats

Tripping The Bell Curve

Dr. M. : y....r. .eu..k..y.....s .s .e..gn
me: ...
Dr. M. : .ou. leu...o...y... i. b.ni..
me: ... .... (dumbfounded because no) ...
Dr. M. : hello?
Dr. I said -- your leukocytosis is benign
me: ... how? ...
Dr. M. : Well, you see, what is normal for most is not normal for all.
me: ... (i am n o t normal ... nothing new there ...)
Dr. M. : You see, you fall outside the bell-curve. It is ok.
me: ... ( ... i definitely fell ... )
Dr. M. : Do you understand? (rambles on) Are you having any other problems?
me: ... I am still having trouble with the oversensitivity to most anything ... and ... it causes ... difficulties ... ( ... i overdosed last night ... )
Dr. M. : Yes, some people are like that. For example, people here in the mid-west who do not tolerate a specific cancer drug that is very much used around the world but cannot be used here so much that a study was done that showed the people in this area cannot tolerate it on the whole. Oh, it has nothing to do with in-breeding though people here tend to marry others in their region and such but it is just what has been studied.
me: ... (in-breeding ... whaaaat? ... i missed something) ...
Dr. M. : So, what will happen is you will need to get the white cell count checked at least once a year so we can make sure nothing sneaks up on us, ok?
me: ... but ... i wanted ... was hoping ... oh nothing, thanks ...

None

last night my blood pressure crashed down to 90/60. it was disappointing because i had a good day on the ninja watching the swell of trees and hills surround me with wonder and hope. but with pain in my chest i later vomited and went to bed sure that the end was near so it is hard to believe that i woke up this morning. god, i was hoping otherwise and do not understand how i continue to breathe each day.

the doctor called and said she has no answer. i can have the disabling tachycardia or i can have the low blood pressure, falling around, depressed, and doped. thank you for the choice. i am amazed at my choices. again, thank you.

in fact thank you to all of you unknown forces - you have given me such wonderful choices in my life. i am sorry that i must have made the wrong choices somewhere because look at the pile of crap i've landed in and i know they were wrong but i don't know what i could have done different. you dirty fuckers who kept my body alive so long ago when i tried to let it go when all you had to offer was the latest drug and a trip home to more rape and violence when you could have just fixed the problem then by taking those bastards to jail but that would have been too hard being the pillars in the community that they are and the nobody that i am.

i realize that i am not special and i do not have any right to bury myself in self-loathing when so many others fight hard to make it through but ... i have no but ... i have no more arguments.

The Bills Come Rollin' In But ...

... instead of being from the heart hospital as the shot above depics, they are from an intensive psycho-therapeutic outpatient program which included regular doses of B-12 shots. By God, I must have been in alcohol rehabilitation the whole time! It's all been a delirium?!? If Blue Cross / Blue Shield says so, then it must indeed be so! I guess now I am just hungover ...

Atonement For Nothing

Happiness is not real. Happiness is a concept invented by a desparate five-year-old with a wish of non-stop milk and cookies ... a scenario of neverending bliss and warmth that only occurs in a Leave It To Beaver episode.

It was not not the bubbly cheerleader stomping on the sidelines with a pearl smile and shiny blonde hair. She was fake and existed only in the etched memories of bystanders.

Perhaps it is a like a moment during a vicious war when a soldier takes a second to smell the honeysuckle of a new fresh summer though too soon has to turn around to the char.

Though fleeting, it may be best to accept the real neverending story ... the one of the ordinary ... the daily ... the mending ... the broken ...

A Towel Of Fond Sudsy Memories

As I was semi-snoozing by the pool over the weekend, a man caught my eye when he pulled out a lounger and began to prepare for his sunning. He was shaking out a huge red, white, and blue beach towel which was designed to replicate a can of Budweiser. Immediately, I began to get all sentimental and sad.

In case you don't know, St. Louis is world headquarters and home to Anheuser-Busch brewing company - number one in the world. Last week it was announced that foreign company InBev has elicited a hostile takeover of our American brew. Since then St. Louis has been in chaos as protesters march downtown and flock to http://www.saveab.com/ in hopes of signing a petition that will probably go nowhere.

After reading the New York Times article today depicting the debacles of August Busch IV, CEO, I was almost amongst a few of my peers who conclude that the spoiled good-ole-boys-club member should go down in flames but then ... I thought of the towel.

Though AB products are not amongst my favorite suds, they do hold a special place in my heart. Amongst all St. Louis iconery, they are second only to the Arch and impose a great camaraderie amongst the locals that would be sorely missed. Many of my favorite St. Louis experiences surround AB:

1. Catching wind of the enticing sweet smell of yeast and hops brewing as I cruise down I-55.
2. Watching the Cardinals hit homers at Busch Stadium.
3. Working for AB Information Technology to monitor brewery software.
4. Participating in AB charity fundraisers.
5. Then, my fave: Grant's Farm. Yeah, it's a tiny little theme park but I would greatly miss my regular pilgrimages to ride the tram as it gets stuck in animal "traffic." Then, getting my shoelaces chewed on by the goats as I sip on the free Amber-Bock. Later, I always complain that the exotic animals should be sent back home but then I drink some more brew and am content. I was there last Christmas for the special pageants and then again last month for a university scholarship fundraiser.

I suppose the brewery would continue on but it wouldn't be the same and all theme parks would be sold. If I was responsible for an empire that had taken generations to build, then I would have assured that nothing like this would even be possible. I do know that if the takeover succeeds then I vow, like the rest, to never drink another AB / InBev-related product. Yeah, that won't be too much of a change for me but ... that towel ... :o(

etarelotni

Cardiologist: "This medicine is the only effective drug for her condition. She cannot have good mental health if she has a cardiovascular event. Give her an anti-depressant that she can tolerate better."

Psychiatrist: "She cannot tolerate other anti-depressants. What is the good of treating her heart condition with a drug if it causes her to have no will to live and no quality of life? Give her another heart drug that she can tolerate better."

Internist: "She is intolerant to all medications and chemicals. Let's take out her blood instead."

Hematologist: "Interesting blood. Let's run allot of tests on it. She can tolerate that."

Psychotherapist: "It's simply intolerable to undo all the progress I have made with her over the past decade because of you pill-pushers who can't get your acts together."

Me: "Why am I so intolerant?"

they beta blocked my brain

... so that now nothing works right ...

well, except my heart works better ... but i am more broken or am i?

Not Quite So Easy or Something Unknown Is In Charge

Since my earliest suicide attempt in fifth grade, I've had countless arguments with death.

I've tried to think back at what was going through my head at such a young age that would lead me to think death would be the answer and the only thing I can conclude is that my interpretation had been that death was the way to make pain stop -- the only escape.

Children do not generally really understand death but despite my growing in age and knowledge, I have to admit that my death belief has remained unchanged since those early years. The only thing that has changed is my wondering about what will happen to me after I die and even that had not stopped me from trying. The only thing that has stopped me is my utter failure at such attempts and the trouble it gets me into.

Oddly enough, I do not know of anyone (personally) who has actually succeeded at suicide but I cannot begin to count how many people I DO know who have attempted and failed. When I worked in social services, I had clients who had shot themselves in the head, doused themselves with gas and lit a match, electrocuted themselves, etc, but yet they STILL survived. The whole idea that it is a "choice" is greatly questionable.

Since becoming ill, I had been contemplating that I could finally be coming close to the opportunity of a fatal disease. At first, I was relieved but as the weeks have passed I have become very confused and have not known what I want. Being in and out of the hospital, going to the cancer center, physically suffering and feeling sick all the time, missing out on the few things I enjoy -- all these things that I would think would make me want death even more were actually confusing me.

Don't worry, I have not become a lover of life who will now blog in a Pollyanna-like-fashion, but earlier this evening I was discussing this with someone and it was inferred that perhaps my view of death itself is changing. Even if I were to get a fatal diagnosis, it would probably NOT be that with a prognosis of a few weeks but instead I would suffer long and hard.

Though it happens to people every day and some within a matter of unexpected seconds, it is apparently very very hard to die quickly for the majority of people. Many of those patients at the cancer center had been suffering for many many years. I had always said that I do not fear death from riding the Ninja but I DO fear suffering for the rest of my life from a severe injury.

Bottom line at this time is that it appears that there is no "BANG - here's your diagnosis and ticket to an ever-lasting vacation." It just doesn't seem to exist and I don't know how I -- Ms Professional Smart-Ass - would have ever believed such a thing in the first place ... except that I was only in fifth grade ... and apparently never grew up in some areas ... but that's another blog entirely. I'm probably going to be the oldest person to ever have lived.

That Crazy Lady on the Street? Yeah - That's Me ...

The plan for the day was to get some stuff done in the apartment and then head out somewhere to study for another M$ exam. Nothing was working right so I decided to head to the pool to clear my head and take a break with the assumption that I was too stressed and needed some air, exercise, and distraction.

After about an hour at the pool, the screeching noise of some kid started to grate on my nerves in such an overwhelming out-of-proportion level that I had to immediately leave the pool and head back home.

Back at the apartment, I could hear my neighbor begin to vacuum. Honestly, it sounded like a freight train -- to my ears only I am sure.

Off to the library I went with the assurance that I would have no noise and could concentrate on this bastard test. It may be helpful to mention that these tests tend to cause some sort of psychiatric panic crisis in me just to think about it so it is very crucial that I be gentle and try to accommodate my anxiety and plan for any stress surrounding the studying for this monster.

The library was fresh and cool so I headed up to the top level that is reserved for quite study only. Once settled down and logged in, I can hear people chattering, kids giggling, pens dropping, and books thumping. By now my heart is pounding in panic that I will not be able to pass this test (there are negative consequences for not passing this test.) After pounding baroque music through my ear-buds, the situation does not improve and I relocate myself to one of the special noise-proof chamber rooms surrounded by Plexiglas or something.

In less that five minutes into my timed practice exam, I can hear a kid two chambers over tossing himself against the glass as his adult-person glazed into a monitor oblivious to this kid's behavior. So that is it -- the point of complete unfraying -- the point where all was lost.

I packed up my belongings, exited the chamber and announced to the whole floor, complete with mild profanities and such, regarding the importance of quiet libraries. I then proceeded to pound my flip-flops down the spiral-tiled staircase continuing to yell something the effect of "HOW'S THIS FOR QUIET?! CAN YOU HEAR THIS?! WELL HOW ABOUT..." etc.

I somehow made it out the building without the security guards assistance but an enormous guttural agonizing sound began to escape from the depths of parts unknown. Once I made it home, I had to put ear-plugs into my ears and crawl under sheets to drown out each and every noise that I could feel penetrating into my skull. It was as if my nerves had been completely ripped open and any self-control was long gone.

Then, as strangely as it came upon me, I practically passed out into a sleep as if someone had shot me up with ativan.

That I've been assured that the latest behavioral outburst of the day is medication-induced is of little consolation. Especially since it wasn't that long ago that I made similar profane announcements in a department store and then threw a vacuum cleaner in another.

I do not take illegal drugs, just the one's prescribed to me. This is what I get. I'm at a loss.

Chronic Leukocytosis and the Quandary of Self-Ruination

So it was another tough week. I managed to put in fifty hours at work only to still desperately NOT keep up with my work while spending six extra business hours running around satisfying medical requests for my bodily fluids and such.

It was my first visit to a cancer center and I guess I expected patients as miserable as myself but was surprised as they all chatted with each other and went merrily around with their bald heads, caps, and wigs. I'd always known that potentially terminal patients tend to draw from a strength that most of us, incorrectly, do not believe is inside ourselves.

I've been in bad situations where a bizarre well of bravery spewed open leaving me to handle the storm admirably well only to crash afterwards into a sopping blubbering mess.

I do not even have a cancer diagnosis but when I went downstairs for my labs I began to cry uncontrollably as I waited for more blood to be sucked from my body. My thought was: "Are these people really optimistic or have they reached the point where they realize that they may have an opportunity to escape this misery?" Which would / do I want? Right now I'm too tired to care.

Nocturnal Chatterings #18

--so here we are again ....

+ yep ...

--i was thinking about what that lady said to me today about how i need to know what i want in life.

+ oh?

--i've always had a goal. always. first, they were scholastic-related. second, they were job-related. then i decided that i want more of a life outside of these things.

+ like what?

--well ... to have fun ... motorcycle ... travel ... a home with people ... that last one is a kicker since i've never lived in the same house with people and enjoyed it ... what would it be like to be around people during the evenings or have a place to go to hang out with them and feel comfortable and not stupid ...

--i thought i could get close enough to the first few ... with a decent salary then why could i not?

+ well, you've been sick ...

--yeah but it's more than that, right? i don't even want to sleep at night anymore - i just want to WANT to sleep ... for the most part i had not been ABLE to sleep ...

+ maybe you're just skewed right now from the drugs.

+ ... OR ... maybe you need to make a decision

--like what?

+ like whether or not you even want to live a life or not ... you have been hoping for, like, to have a myeloproliferative lukemia ... hellooooo?? ... then you wonder how and when you would tell people if you were dying or if you would fight the lukemia or let it take it's toll ... next thing you're contemplating whether or not to take the cats with you should you die ...

--what if i can't decide?

+ then you are looking at your life now as it is ... but you will decide one way or the other, you always do ... there are also some things that you HAVE to let go of if you are to move on with anything ever ... the living in limbo is bad ... it's not the first time you've cared for others more than your own well-being but this time it's really kicking you in the ass ... or heart ... or kidneys ... or spleen ... or

--stop, i get the point.

+ do you?

--no, not really. not enough to move on anything.

+ well, perhaps this current state of crappness is a continual kick in the ass ... how much damage will you let it do?

--i guess that goes back to the original question of do i really want to live. i think i have tried but never known living and so i don't have a clue to it's worth. everyone else seems damn damn miserable.

Today I Went In to Work To Find:

• that half our staff is under one company name the other with a different company name.
• that I have not been paid and was supposed to have been paid last week so I have no money.
• that the company is yet again in health-care negotiations. wasn't this decided already?
• that one of our two best developers is leaving (unless he can strangle more money from the big guy).
• that I still don't know how to do my job.
• that there were injuries last week due to an electronic fly-swatter experiment.

why am I not too stressed about it? because I am tired.

why don't I leave? because I am tired and there is less political crap here.

I Don't Have A Title For This One Either

so after yesterday's fiasco with the psycho-psycho-therapist my psych doc came into the office today to check me out. he took my blood pressure and wondered if i even have one anymore. it appeared to be 100/100 ? oh, and where did my pulse go and how am i able to walk he ranted. i dunno but i'm damn tired and can't find my playstation controller so i am stuck with the psp until i can locate it.

I Don't Have a Title for This One

The beta-blockers have swarmed over my mood -- gnawing on it like nothing I've experienced in years by engulfing me with the most primitive crying spells and desperate urges to die despite the means available. I have moments of rationale that tell me that this will not last, will surely pass, and that once it is over I can resume my previous state of misery.

Surprisingly, I decided to seek counsel with someone outside my normal realm: a therapist in a more public sector -- one covered by insurance as opposed to my usual fare of the private practice (aka, she's out of town). I know when I'm headed to the bad place and that any attempt to end my breathing will result in only making matters worse.

I told myself that this would be a good thing. After all, I only need to vent and seek reassurance during this trying phase so surely someone even semi-trained could give at least this.

I was wrong.

Of course I had expected that she would need to take the usual history and that there would be some paperwork but so much had escaped my memory as to how these soul-suckers operate.

Being upfront, I informed her that I already have a therapist but that she and her backup are out of town so what I needed today was someone to listen as I vented. The crone never let me get any further.

Before I knew it, I was being asked about my sexual behaviors and my marital separation when, at some point, she decided that she would solve my medical dilemma herself. What she would do, she claimed, was get all three of my doctors together on the phone and we would immediately resolve this beta-blocker-depression problem (at 4pm on a Friday).

After all the paperwork, there was no stopping her and it was clear that she had a mission beyond my control. She managed to get my psychiatrist on the conference call but could reach none others and sent me out to phone my internist and my cardiologist to inform them of the plan. I went to a phone and pretended to dial as she yammered at the psych doc. She did not even noticed that I never actually spoke to anyone on the phone but it didn't matter because it wasn't very long that she decided that my hour was up and I would have to resolve this at my next appointments.

I did not reschedule; however I was reminded of how I ended up in so many inpatient facilities growing up by being sent to these truly incompetent broken people controlled by paperwork and legal liabilities instead of care for their patient.

During my drive home, I received a call from the psych doc pretty much asking me WTF?

I dunno ... it did distract me from my misery but now it is nighttime and I am stuck here again feeling myself sliding into the pit again. Honestly, I did not think I would be here again and have never fully believed in the power of chemicals over one's depressive state. I've always believed that the way to be rid of depression was to confront the source and deal with it but between the beta-blockers and listening to my drunken (I hope) upstairs neighbor bellowing out "Sweet Home Alabaaaaammmmmaaa.." (again) I really dunno.