I'm all scrambled eggs this morning as I have a huge decision to make based on new information regarding my investigation into my local public healthcare district.
I've known for a while, or actually just sensed it, but now have information to prove it, that my case is way beyond my reach. It will never be solved or rectified.
The mismanagement that grows in the dark, moldy areas seems to have seeded itself at the healthcare district.
But it goes up and beyond where I can reach. I think anyway. I could change my mind on that.
I guess I'm just tired of elected officials serving themselves and not the constituents.
There's no change which can occur without some sort of radical action.
For instance, the healthcare insurance reform business. This is not an altruistic cause, this is about changing money from one special interest group over to another.
Real change cannot exist in a capitalist society. We're doomed. We will not be the roman empire, and we will fall by the wayside as our bogged down government cannot keep up with the necessary changes.
And honestly, they really don't care.
If they did, then they would not be fooling around playing games with people's lives. They would take their responsibilities seriously.
I'm always amused how the US constitution is used to argue about so many issues, but in the long run, it really has little to offer modern society.
We need new blood, new ideas, cutting edge technology which can analyze the new America we need to create.
It makes me nauseous to see what is happening in Washout DC, as the President is leading an army of the ignorant, in a fake battle for change.
What a mess, for crying out loud.
Where would one citizen even begin to tackle the entrenched and power seeking political machine?
I don't know. I'm going to be thinking about it though.
You have to be a little crazy to get things done. I've got that down pat.
Anyone who would like to join me on this quest which is going to seemingly bring me down off this mountain and on up to Sacramento at some point.
I really am sick and tired of the mediocrity which is the political system who gutted its educational programs falling behind in the world. "Stupid Americans" could become a perspective about us.
Oh, hell, I don't know anything right now, I'll get back to you soon on this...Laura Hart
Monday, October 19, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I've just got issues (I'm sure this is part one of many)
The title of this blog was created a long time ago during a conversation. I got done telling a friend a story and as if to make it seem as if I understood what I said, I closed with "I just have issues."
We laughed. I wrote down the title and waited until some morning where I could explore that whole idea. And that's today.
Well, I guess the hot topic amongst my friends is my fighting issues.
"We're just worried about you."
How sweet. Well fucking worry about something else. I'll worry about me.
Fighting, hey, its for something.
But then again, going back in time, I remember my childhood. Fighting and lots of it.
Being bi-polar fighting comes naturally, as the chemicals needed to fight are always "that was the wrong thing to say" away.
My personal problem is people who threaten me. I must say if you're going to make a threat, you fucking better be prepared for my reaction. You may not have much time to react either.
Physically threatening me is a whole other matter. I'm unfortunately not afraid to mix it up with someone twice my size. The chemical burst which occurs when I feel physically threatened is nothing you can buy on the streets, well maybe, PCP.
I've been beaten up two years in a row, each in December, the first an assailant and next the pseudoboyfriend mistake.
My assailant who was battling someone who has been in many battles, (but I happened to have been healthy back then), actually, weirdly, after he gave up the attempted rape/assault and the fun of trying to subdue me for five hours, complimented me: "You're stronger than you look."
Yeah fuckhead I'm bi-polar. Whatever drugs you were taking, the ones I make in my own body are unadulterated and of a higher quality.
Had I been a normal weight, all muscle, this piss ant wouldn't have been complimenting me, he would have been in the hospital.
My fighting career started early. Not that I looked for fights but fights always found me.
For the most part kid fights are one thing, except when you have older kids bullying the younger ones. I was a bully buster though and took on some big kids who thought they were pretty tough.
Nothing like being a teenage boy beaten up by a rabid seven year old girl. I'm sure they're still in therapy over it.
I remember telling my parents I would be taking Karate, not piano. I remember reading their faces before the ultimate answer of, "hell no."
They were thinking, training this force? No thanks.
However, I trained myself. I was athletic in every way, and BP chemically, truly even as a young child, mine started early. I worked on fighting moves all the time, and applied them to real life.
When my parents divorced, my Dad who never said a real cross word to me as a child, left the household, my Mother pushed him out. Then she marries my stepfather who woo's my sister and I.
I then discover all there is to know about alcoholism and the blackouts, as my stepfather, had them regularly.
We couldn't have been more a miserable mess than this family mixture, and I remember it well, my stepdad coming home from work, just getting in the door, suit and tie, and he began talking really mean to my mother.
I never heard my Dad talk like that, and something triggered.
"Shut up," I told him.
He just smiled. Then I jumped on him and grabbed his tie and let my body weight pull it tight around his neck. His face turned red and he gagged. He punched me right in the face and sent me flying across the room into the door, where I slid down and looked at the blood trickling from my face onto my shirt.
I knew not to move. My mother and my sister were screaming, and he came over to look at me. As soon as he was crouched down in a vulnerable position, I struck. I kicked him right in the balls.
The fight didn't last long as my Mother's screams got the neighbors attention.
But this would be the first fight which lasted for years until I almost killed him one night. Then he almost killed me too.
I would always try to find a way to come into my house of booze unnoticed, because there would always, and I mean always, be a problem which lead to a fight.
It's not been necessarily a want to fight situation, sometimes it happens. I crept up back stairways, climbed the garage and went into a window, used many windows in fact. I didn't want to fight, I wanted to be left alone.
So, why this sudden physical violence in my life, now so many years later? I don't know completely, but I have a few ideas.
Then I piss off Mr. Martial Arts, pseudoboyfriend, with my usual flair. But that day I had a migraine was throwing up and could not deal with his problems.
So, I said and did some things which pissed him off to the point he punched me fast, cold cocked me to the face, and dropped me like a rock to the floor. Both my hands were full, so it was a total domination, chicken shit, move.
Then he lost all control, when I was down, he put his knee in my back and started to repeatedly punch me in the head. I acknowledged I was down and turned my head to the already broken and numb side and waited for him to get down hitting me.
I passed out for a minute. I imagine he expected to have more time time to pack and leave.
I opened my eyes, realized what had happened and got up to my feet. Now there was nothing in my hands mutherfucker.
He was leaning down packing his clothes as quickly as possible, he didn't realize I had gotten up and was standing right behind, with knives within reach.
But he was a sorry lot, no control of his rage, trained in fighting, stabbing and some other gang related things, and I wasn't going to kill him or even hurt him. He needed to leave immediately and never come back.
He turned and saw me standing over him, and startled at the unexpected sight, growled, "I'm going to kill you."
I said flatly, no inflection, "better people have tried."
He took a swing at me, which I reacted to and fell down. He ran out the door, "bye pussy, chickenshit, run."
I didn't file charges against him, as I felt sorry for him: he wasn't strong, he was weak and that made him dangerous.
His father was cop who blew his head off in front of the family, so I figured he had had enough. He knew better than to come back. At the hospital where they treated my migraine and my completely shut eye, they said, "you better lock your doors tonight, he could come back."
I said, "I'm leaving them unlocked in fact, and its up to him if he would like to do that again."
That's when I realized: Beaten up, but never beaten down.
So, violence reared its ugly head in my life, somehow I got through it. But I still have the feelings that if you want to threaten me then you are really playing with fire.
Usually, I believe in an eye for an eye, balancing out the scale. You punch me, I punch you. Not, you punch me and I drive my car through your rented apartment.
So, yes, I just have issues...
We laughed. I wrote down the title and waited until some morning where I could explore that whole idea. And that's today.
Well, I guess the hot topic amongst my friends is my fighting issues.
"We're just worried about you."
How sweet. Well fucking worry about something else. I'll worry about me.
Fighting, hey, its for something.
But then again, going back in time, I remember my childhood. Fighting and lots of it.
Being bi-polar fighting comes naturally, as the chemicals needed to fight are always "that was the wrong thing to say" away.
My personal problem is people who threaten me. I must say if you're going to make a threat, you fucking better be prepared for my reaction. You may not have much time to react either.
Physically threatening me is a whole other matter. I'm unfortunately not afraid to mix it up with someone twice my size. The chemical burst which occurs when I feel physically threatened is nothing you can buy on the streets, well maybe, PCP.
I've been beaten up two years in a row, each in December, the first an assailant and next the pseudoboyfriend mistake.
My assailant who was battling someone who has been in many battles, (but I happened to have been healthy back then), actually, weirdly, after he gave up the attempted rape/assault and the fun of trying to subdue me for five hours, complimented me: "You're stronger than you look."
Yeah fuckhead I'm bi-polar. Whatever drugs you were taking, the ones I make in my own body are unadulterated and of a higher quality.
Had I been a normal weight, all muscle, this piss ant wouldn't have been complimenting me, he would have been in the hospital.
My fighting career started early. Not that I looked for fights but fights always found me.
For the most part kid fights are one thing, except when you have older kids bullying the younger ones. I was a bully buster though and took on some big kids who thought they were pretty tough.
Nothing like being a teenage boy beaten up by a rabid seven year old girl. I'm sure they're still in therapy over it.
I remember telling my parents I would be taking Karate, not piano. I remember reading their faces before the ultimate answer of, "hell no."
They were thinking, training this force? No thanks.
However, I trained myself. I was athletic in every way, and BP chemically, truly even as a young child, mine started early. I worked on fighting moves all the time, and applied them to real life.
When my parents divorced, my Dad who never said a real cross word to me as a child, left the household, my Mother pushed him out. Then she marries my stepfather who woo's my sister and I.
I then discover all there is to know about alcoholism and the blackouts, as my stepfather, had them regularly.
We couldn't have been more a miserable mess than this family mixture, and I remember it well, my stepdad coming home from work, just getting in the door, suit and tie, and he began talking really mean to my mother.
I never heard my Dad talk like that, and something triggered.
"Shut up," I told him.
He just smiled. Then I jumped on him and grabbed his tie and let my body weight pull it tight around his neck. His face turned red and he gagged. He punched me right in the face and sent me flying across the room into the door, where I slid down and looked at the blood trickling from my face onto my shirt.
I knew not to move. My mother and my sister were screaming, and he came over to look at me. As soon as he was crouched down in a vulnerable position, I struck. I kicked him right in the balls.
The fight didn't last long as my Mother's screams got the neighbors attention.
But this would be the first fight which lasted for years until I almost killed him one night. Then he almost killed me too.
I would always try to find a way to come into my house of booze unnoticed, because there would always, and I mean always, be a problem which lead to a fight.
It's not been necessarily a want to fight situation, sometimes it happens. I crept up back stairways, climbed the garage and went into a window, used many windows in fact. I didn't want to fight, I wanted to be left alone.
So, why this sudden physical violence in my life, now so many years later? I don't know completely, but I have a few ideas.
Then I piss off Mr. Martial Arts, pseudoboyfriend, with my usual flair. But that day I had a migraine was throwing up and could not deal with his problems.
So, I said and did some things which pissed him off to the point he punched me fast, cold cocked me to the face, and dropped me like a rock to the floor. Both my hands were full, so it was a total domination, chicken shit, move.
Then he lost all control, when I was down, he put his knee in my back and started to repeatedly punch me in the head. I acknowledged I was down and turned my head to the already broken and numb side and waited for him to get down hitting me.
I passed out for a minute. I imagine he expected to have more time time to pack and leave.
I opened my eyes, realized what had happened and got up to my feet. Now there was nothing in my hands mutherfucker.
He was leaning down packing his clothes as quickly as possible, he didn't realize I had gotten up and was standing right behind, with knives within reach.
But he was a sorry lot, no control of his rage, trained in fighting, stabbing and some other gang related things, and I wasn't going to kill him or even hurt him. He needed to leave immediately and never come back.
He turned and saw me standing over him, and startled at the unexpected sight, growled, "I'm going to kill you."
I said flatly, no inflection, "better people have tried."
He took a swing at me, which I reacted to and fell down. He ran out the door, "bye pussy, chickenshit, run."
I didn't file charges against him, as I felt sorry for him: he wasn't strong, he was weak and that made him dangerous.
His father was cop who blew his head off in front of the family, so I figured he had had enough. He knew better than to come back. At the hospital where they treated my migraine and my completely shut eye, they said, "you better lock your doors tonight, he could come back."
I said, "I'm leaving them unlocked in fact, and its up to him if he would like to do that again."
That's when I realized: Beaten up, but never beaten down.
So, violence reared its ugly head in my life, somehow I got through it. But I still have the feelings that if you want to threaten me then you are really playing with fire.
Usually, I believe in an eye for an eye, balancing out the scale. You punch me, I punch you. Not, you punch me and I drive my car through your rented apartment.
So, yes, I just have issues...
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Friday, October 16, 2009
what is today?
I sometimes wonder where time goes and often forget what day it is. I think I'm busy and I don't really care, because once I wake up, kill some pain, I'm off to work.
Oh, "off" to work is meaningful. I grab my computer and a whole process begins in my mind.
As I always tell other writers, there's a story in everything, but just as much a story in nothing.
I wonder sometimes how people look at my blogs after I've been to a meeting. I'm sure they wonder what I'm going to say on the blog.
But they never know, because I never know until I think about it for a while.
And some people are scared of me, oh so sad, because there is nothing safe to say around me, I can make anything into a story.
I've been asked "where did you come up with that?" Why it's the muses, they talk to me.
They have so far not asked me to kill anyone so I think its pretty safe to speak with them.
Today, I have a list as long as my arm to get done, and I might accomplish some of it. Driving away from the house is part of the day. I wish I could drive my bed all over town.
With my pillows behind my head, a steering wheel pops up, and off I go. No need for air conditioning and I have blankets for heat.
But up here in this god forsaken valley, I'm sure the cops would pull me over.
"Do you have tags for this thing?"
"Yeah, it's on the end of the mattress don't pull it off."
"Oh."
"Anything else officer?"
"What is that under your blankets?"
"Oh, this, this is my bong. Want a hit?"
"Just get out of here and drive safely."
Yeah right...
Another day, actually a Friday, another round of whatever the universe has whipped up for me.
I'm so impressed so far, I just can't wait to see what's next. Maybe locusts in my bathroom, or rabid animals chasing me. It really could be anything, I don't count out any possibilities anymore.
When my life got this weird, I knew that it was "unpredictable" and there is no controlling it. So, I became weird and unpredictable too.
Now, I just don't care anymore, its the way it is and what will happen will just have to happen. Fuck it.
Oh, "off" to work is meaningful. I grab my computer and a whole process begins in my mind.
As I always tell other writers, there's a story in everything, but just as much a story in nothing.
I wonder sometimes how people look at my blogs after I've been to a meeting. I'm sure they wonder what I'm going to say on the blog.
But they never know, because I never know until I think about it for a while.
And some people are scared of me, oh so sad, because there is nothing safe to say around me, I can make anything into a story.
I've been asked "where did you come up with that?" Why it's the muses, they talk to me.
They have so far not asked me to kill anyone so I think its pretty safe to speak with them.
Today, I have a list as long as my arm to get done, and I might accomplish some of it. Driving away from the house is part of the day. I wish I could drive my bed all over town.
With my pillows behind my head, a steering wheel pops up, and off I go. No need for air conditioning and I have blankets for heat.
But up here in this god forsaken valley, I'm sure the cops would pull me over.
"Do you have tags for this thing?"
"Yeah, it's on the end of the mattress don't pull it off."
"Oh."
"Anything else officer?"
"What is that under your blankets?"
"Oh, this, this is my bong. Want a hit?"
"Just get out of here and drive safely."
Yeah right...
Another day, actually a Friday, another round of whatever the universe has whipped up for me.
I'm so impressed so far, I just can't wait to see what's next. Maybe locusts in my bathroom, or rabid animals chasing me. It really could be anything, I don't count out any possibilities anymore.
When my life got this weird, I knew that it was "unpredictable" and there is no controlling it. So, I became weird and unpredictable too.
Now, I just don't care anymore, its the way it is and what will happen will just have to happen. Fuck it.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The start of the end
Wow so this is it my start to wright something someone will take in and say to them self " hay this guy is fucking nuts. " Now we can have some fun, not your kind of fun... NO!!!! my kind of fun is the kind that will leave your ass dead with no head, and me playing kickball with it HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!
No really I would just stab you in the gut and twist the blade, so I can hear you scream like a school girl! Oh shit sorry I got a little hungry, I get a bit insane when I don't eat. OK now that I had some food where was I .... well fuck I lost my train of thought..... Well you look nice did you do something new with your hair? No? well the glare from the window behind you must be it then. Don't look at me or I will have to smash your face in and drag your ass out the broken window I came in. Then the neighbors would hear me so I would have to kill them to...... Fuck I did it again? sorry I need more than a candy bar maybe a soda to. I'm sorry next blog Ill focus less on killing you and more on killing other people. This has been your friend and every ones : Sean Time
No really I would just stab you in the gut and twist the blade, so I can hear you scream like a school girl! Oh shit sorry I got a little hungry, I get a bit insane when I don't eat. OK now that I had some food where was I .... well fuck I lost my train of thought..... Well you look nice did you do something new with your hair? No? well the glare from the window behind you must be it then. Don't look at me or I will have to smash your face in and drag your ass out the broken window I came in. Then the neighbors would hear me so I would have to kill them to...... Fuck I did it again? sorry I need more than a candy bar maybe a soda to. I'm sorry next blog Ill focus less on killing you and more on killing other people. This has been your friend and every ones : Sean Time
Friday, October 9, 2009
Hope on hold
So, another blood test, another doctor, another long drive I cannot make anymore without serious side effects, such as pain.
I got home last night without much luster, it was late, and my cousin had left a couple messages. First one supportive and inquiring as to what happened at the doctor; the second, crying and cursing her bi-polar condition.
Not that I wasn't already depressed, but I empathized with her message, it is fucking unreal dealing with these mood swings. Its not just the swinging, its the actions you take, decisions you make as well as what screwed up things come out of your mouth.
Yes, it does suck. But only some of the time.
I'm wrangling with a whole debate in my head if I can even live like this, in my physical condition anymore. Part of me has totally given up, which leads to thoughts such as "I can't do it" "I'm not strong enough" "I've been given an overdose of life."
Then the other side kicks in, with the words of wisdom. "Find it, the solution, the answers are there" "It is worth it" "Do this for yourself" and then I'm back.
I dragged out of the bed this morning, unable to make an appointment I had made with someone, and then ended up at my doctor, who is great, and had him give me shots in my neck and back, the trigger points.
Currently, icing and heating, as we speak.
However, I'm up, and now, my hand is not as numb, so I'm at least doing some writing. Progress, as best as I can do it.
I'm not disabled, I'm as abled as I can be. Fuck that shit, it sounded hokey when I wrote, yeah, I'm fucking disabled, but do the best I can to not waste the time I have here.
Even though I'm taking a day off, which I hate, I'll be planning and plotting the whole time.
I am noticing that everyone around me is going through some major changes in their lives and their way of thinking too. A shift in consciousness.
My sister is going through huge emotional changes and she is doing it, but its a tough time.
We all pray a lot around here. Most of the people I know, realize that I call God, Scooter, and whatever you want to call the core intelligence of the universe, prime mover unmoved, we often forget our part in this "big production" called life.
With my sister in her tumultuous existence right now, I get a chance to see how other people are progressing and making the world better as they or we get better on an individual basis.
I watched a friend of mine last night in a series of pain days which lead her to be very up-settable, and it reminded me of what the people around me have to hear about and deal with regularly.
When I looked at her last night, I could see the struggle, the energy she was dealing with, and I spoke to her about it. I then watched that energy just change.
Her color in her face changed, her demeanor changed, and I could see she had learned something from what was happening to her. Cool. And it manifests physically. So, the thoughts are causes of physical problems. Hmm, interesting.
After having spent several hours on their porch staring out over the horizon like a zombie, I went home. My friends are used to my behaviors: I come over and spend the whole time outside thinking. How fun am I?
A prayer for all who are in the middle of becoming the people we should be.
Scooter, its all really fun here thanks for everything. You piss us all off, you make us cry, and then you suddenly fill our candy dishes with candy. Just put out good energy for my friends and family, and my extended family, the human race, that we make it through the trials you so lovingly set up so we can learn. Make us all believe in the powers of the universe so vast and incredible that we fear it. Today, we will all have faith and believe in something greater than our little selves and petty problems. Make it good, Scooter, you know how I get bored.
And there's your prayer for the day.
That is how I talk to the universe. Yes, I'm just as sarcastic with God as I am with everybody else. And as a product of God, I feel at liberty to do so.
Have a good day...
I got home last night without much luster, it was late, and my cousin had left a couple messages. First one supportive and inquiring as to what happened at the doctor; the second, crying and cursing her bi-polar condition.
Not that I wasn't already depressed, but I empathized with her message, it is fucking unreal dealing with these mood swings. Its not just the swinging, its the actions you take, decisions you make as well as what screwed up things come out of your mouth.
Yes, it does suck. But only some of the time.
I'm wrangling with a whole debate in my head if I can even live like this, in my physical condition anymore. Part of me has totally given up, which leads to thoughts such as "I can't do it" "I'm not strong enough" "I've been given an overdose of life."
Then the other side kicks in, with the words of wisdom. "Find it, the solution, the answers are there" "It is worth it" "Do this for yourself" and then I'm back.
I dragged out of the bed this morning, unable to make an appointment I had made with someone, and then ended up at my doctor, who is great, and had him give me shots in my neck and back, the trigger points.
Currently, icing and heating, as we speak.
However, I'm up, and now, my hand is not as numb, so I'm at least doing some writing. Progress, as best as I can do it.
I'm not disabled, I'm as abled as I can be. Fuck that shit, it sounded hokey when I wrote, yeah, I'm fucking disabled, but do the best I can to not waste the time I have here.
Even though I'm taking a day off, which I hate, I'll be planning and plotting the whole time.
I am noticing that everyone around me is going through some major changes in their lives and their way of thinking too. A shift in consciousness.
My sister is going through huge emotional changes and she is doing it, but its a tough time.
We all pray a lot around here. Most of the people I know, realize that I call God, Scooter, and whatever you want to call the core intelligence of the universe, prime mover unmoved, we often forget our part in this "big production" called life.
With my sister in her tumultuous existence right now, I get a chance to see how other people are progressing and making the world better as they or we get better on an individual basis.
I watched a friend of mine last night in a series of pain days which lead her to be very up-settable, and it reminded me of what the people around me have to hear about and deal with regularly.
When I looked at her last night, I could see the struggle, the energy she was dealing with, and I spoke to her about it. I then watched that energy just change.
Her color in her face changed, her demeanor changed, and I could see she had learned something from what was happening to her. Cool. And it manifests physically. So, the thoughts are causes of physical problems. Hmm, interesting.
After having spent several hours on their porch staring out over the horizon like a zombie, I went home. My friends are used to my behaviors: I come over and spend the whole time outside thinking. How fun am I?
A prayer for all who are in the middle of becoming the people we should be.
Scooter, its all really fun here thanks for everything. You piss us all off, you make us cry, and then you suddenly fill our candy dishes with candy. Just put out good energy for my friends and family, and my extended family, the human race, that we make it through the trials you so lovingly set up so we can learn. Make us all believe in the powers of the universe so vast and incredible that we fear it. Today, we will all have faith and believe in something greater than our little selves and petty problems. Make it good, Scooter, you know how I get bored.
And there's your prayer for the day.
That is how I talk to the universe. Yes, I'm just as sarcastic with God as I am with everybody else. And as a product of God, I feel at liberty to do so.
Have a good day...
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The doctor better have some answers...
This last few weeks, months, years or whatever its been, have taken their toll on me, I can't deny it anymore.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed every fucking morning is not what I want to do with the rest of my life.
Right now, I have some difficult choices to make, other than if I should go down the canyon to the doctor, that I know I have to do.
Thank Scooter for my cousin the other night, as I was in a mood, a frightening mood, even for me.
I had been screaming the night before about everything and nothing all at the same time. My cameraman actually handled it well, now he's not taking things personally and recognizing I get the way I get, because I'm not only bi-polar I'm in chronic pain.
The effort to get thru this became risky a week ago when I allowed my doctor to prescribe a steroid for me.
I've gotten very out of it on those, but I thought if I could keep my mind aware that I'm taking them, then I could control it.
Yeah, right.
I called my cousin the other day, why, I don't know, I didn't want to talk, I guess I wanted to breath into a phone like a perv.
She answered and knew instantly that I was fucked up in the head. She asked me a few questions like what kind of mood am I in.
"A bad one what do you fucking think?"
Then she asked when I was going to see the rheumotologist for the Lupus, and I told her this week.
She stepped in it next. "Do you have to go to Bakersfield."
That was enough to stop the heavy breathing.
"What the fuck do you think? Like we have a doctor here or something, what a fucking stupid question."
Good cousin. "You're right it was a stupid question. When was the last time you took the steroids, she slipped in at the end.
Oh yeah, duh.
"today."
"Do you think maybe that could have something to do with it?"
"Maybe," I said because I was still evil.
Thank you cousin, you are right.
For the rest of the night I kept telling myself, "don't forget you're on steroids."
Immediately my mood began to lift, not the it got much farther off than ground than they did at "KittyHawk", but it is better.
That's the awareness I keep talking about. Simply reacting to every thought you're going to probably regret someday is a bad place to be emotionally.
Being aware, still depressed and angry, I tell the negative thoughts that I know I really don't want that to happen or I don't "really" want to do that or say that.
It gets old though, as the pain is my other pain, I guess. It ramps up the mania like nobody's business. If I don't control that, I can't get sufficient control of me.
Now its the doctors turn. I need to hear something positive today, something that gives me hope. I need some hope that I can change this situation. That I can regain some of my health back and continue to work.
As I've discussed I would rather be dead than not working, but I'm half dead because of all the work I do.
For some reason I haven't studied Lupus yet, and really have no idea what sort of situation I'm in. My endocrinologist said I'm in an active phase.
I'm not active, but the disease is, and he attributes this to my weight loss, the rash on my neck that remains after three years, and the pain.
But the only potential problem I see is the medications they use to treat this: steroids is on top of the list. Unless you want to create a one woman army, a killing machine, I suggest we take this carefully.
There is another medication used to treat Malaria of all things, and I think that is what they will give me.
I get so many side effects, I'm a walking side effect of something.
I'm more than willing to risk myself in this way because the fact is I cannot live and won't live with this fucking pain and anorexia.
Then there's still in my mind that a medication I used for faxing, copying and scanning, Ativan, a benzodiazapine, may be a link to this mystery of why I suddenly lost weight, plagued with pain and fatigue issues.
It took one year to cut my previous dosage in half, and I still have a ways to go.
Scooter, I really hope you have something for me today, something that is positive, because I'm done with all of this.
I have a business in the making, and I am the most unreliable part of it. The owner/creator cannot be the weak link.
I've thought I'm just going to have to shut it all down before it really begins. I'll know today whether or not I have a good shot at getting well. I don't care about that shit where you live with things; bullshit.
That's not my plan. I'll do all I can to make this change, make it right, heal, be honest with myself completely, face my fears, and if that's not good enough then fuck off.
Sometimes, I lay in bed thinking I should be in a hospital. Then I realize that's where people get sick. And then stay sick.
I want to work, mainly because its the only thing I can control and even do.
I've had a particularly troublesome pain episode which doesn't want to go away.
A couple weeks ago I thought I would actually kill the pain. I take pain medication, which is strong and I'm sure horribly addictive, which pisses me off, but I never kill all the pain.
I only take enough to let the pain give the edge but not cut me or make me dysfunctional so that I cannot think and work.
But on this day, I really wanted to see what it would feel like without the pain and maybe get some good sleep.
So, I took my regular dose and doubled it. Then I decided to add more to that.
I sat in bed for an hour, when I suddenly realized, I didn't feel so terrible. In fact, I felt good. Instead of going to sleep, I was ready to go to work, and I even got up and cleaned up the house a bit.
But, reader you see the trap here don't you? I liked the four hours of being pain free, a little dingy, but basically okay. I would have to take a lot of pain medication to reach that state on a daily basis, and then I would build a tolerance. Thus not being able to live without my pain medication.
I don't think so. It's not in the plans.
Either we fix this, or I'll fix it myself. I hope that you see another blog from me, because I'm done fooling around, I need help. If there is none or there is some fraction thereof, I'll be quite serious: I'm not going to spend my days screaming in pain where my animals, my children, run from me.
They don't know it has nothing to do with them, the bird screams with me, the dogs bark and tear things up, and that cat looks at me with disdain.
So, I have to get my sorry ass up here, get dressed, and go to Bakersfield. Couldn't find a ride because the appointment was too quick, so I guess I'll be driving this again.
But I need to know, so I'm going to drag myself there, and hope for the best...
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed every fucking morning is not what I want to do with the rest of my life.
Right now, I have some difficult choices to make, other than if I should go down the canyon to the doctor, that I know I have to do.
Thank Scooter for my cousin the other night, as I was in a mood, a frightening mood, even for me.
I had been screaming the night before about everything and nothing all at the same time. My cameraman actually handled it well, now he's not taking things personally and recognizing I get the way I get, because I'm not only bi-polar I'm in chronic pain.
The effort to get thru this became risky a week ago when I allowed my doctor to prescribe a steroid for me.
I've gotten very out of it on those, but I thought if I could keep my mind aware that I'm taking them, then I could control it.
Yeah, right.
I called my cousin the other day, why, I don't know, I didn't want to talk, I guess I wanted to breath into a phone like a perv.
She answered and knew instantly that I was fucked up in the head. She asked me a few questions like what kind of mood am I in.
"A bad one what do you fucking think?"
Then she asked when I was going to see the rheumotologist for the Lupus, and I told her this week.
She stepped in it next. "Do you have to go to Bakersfield."
That was enough to stop the heavy breathing.
"What the fuck do you think? Like we have a doctor here or something, what a fucking stupid question."
Good cousin. "You're right it was a stupid question. When was the last time you took the steroids, she slipped in at the end.
Oh yeah, duh.
"today."
"Do you think maybe that could have something to do with it?"
"Maybe," I said because I was still evil.
Thank you cousin, you are right.
For the rest of the night I kept telling myself, "don't forget you're on steroids."
Immediately my mood began to lift, not the it got much farther off than ground than they did at "KittyHawk", but it is better.
That's the awareness I keep talking about. Simply reacting to every thought you're going to probably regret someday is a bad place to be emotionally.
Being aware, still depressed and angry, I tell the negative thoughts that I know I really don't want that to happen or I don't "really" want to do that or say that.
It gets old though, as the pain is my other pain, I guess. It ramps up the mania like nobody's business. If I don't control that, I can't get sufficient control of me.
Now its the doctors turn. I need to hear something positive today, something that gives me hope. I need some hope that I can change this situation. That I can regain some of my health back and continue to work.
As I've discussed I would rather be dead than not working, but I'm half dead because of all the work I do.
For some reason I haven't studied Lupus yet, and really have no idea what sort of situation I'm in. My endocrinologist said I'm in an active phase.
I'm not active, but the disease is, and he attributes this to my weight loss, the rash on my neck that remains after three years, and the pain.
But the only potential problem I see is the medications they use to treat this: steroids is on top of the list. Unless you want to create a one woman army, a killing machine, I suggest we take this carefully.
There is another medication used to treat Malaria of all things, and I think that is what they will give me.
I get so many side effects, I'm a walking side effect of something.
I'm more than willing to risk myself in this way because the fact is I cannot live and won't live with this fucking pain and anorexia.
Then there's still in my mind that a medication I used for faxing, copying and scanning, Ativan, a benzodiazapine, may be a link to this mystery of why I suddenly lost weight, plagued with pain and fatigue issues.
It took one year to cut my previous dosage in half, and I still have a ways to go.
Scooter, I really hope you have something for me today, something that is positive, because I'm done with all of this.
I have a business in the making, and I am the most unreliable part of it. The owner/creator cannot be the weak link.
I've thought I'm just going to have to shut it all down before it really begins. I'll know today whether or not I have a good shot at getting well. I don't care about that shit where you live with things; bullshit.
That's not my plan. I'll do all I can to make this change, make it right, heal, be honest with myself completely, face my fears, and if that's not good enough then fuck off.
Sometimes, I lay in bed thinking I should be in a hospital. Then I realize that's where people get sick. And then stay sick.
I want to work, mainly because its the only thing I can control and even do.
I've had a particularly troublesome pain episode which doesn't want to go away.
A couple weeks ago I thought I would actually kill the pain. I take pain medication, which is strong and I'm sure horribly addictive, which pisses me off, but I never kill all the pain.
I only take enough to let the pain give the edge but not cut me or make me dysfunctional so that I cannot think and work.
But on this day, I really wanted to see what it would feel like without the pain and maybe get some good sleep.
So, I took my regular dose and doubled it. Then I decided to add more to that.
I sat in bed for an hour, when I suddenly realized, I didn't feel so terrible. In fact, I felt good. Instead of going to sleep, I was ready to go to work, and I even got up and cleaned up the house a bit.
But, reader you see the trap here don't you? I liked the four hours of being pain free, a little dingy, but basically okay. I would have to take a lot of pain medication to reach that state on a daily basis, and then I would build a tolerance. Thus not being able to live without my pain medication.
I don't think so. It's not in the plans.
Either we fix this, or I'll fix it myself. I hope that you see another blog from me, because I'm done fooling around, I need help. If there is none or there is some fraction thereof, I'll be quite serious: I'm not going to spend my days screaming in pain where my animals, my children, run from me.
They don't know it has nothing to do with them, the bird screams with me, the dogs bark and tear things up, and that cat looks at me with disdain.
So, I have to get my sorry ass up here, get dressed, and go to Bakersfield. Couldn't find a ride because the appointment was too quick, so I guess I'll be driving this again.
But I need to know, so I'm going to drag myself there, and hope for the best...
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