Tuesday, November 13, 2012

What are we capable of? Many things...

My friend, found her dog, who was taken by someone else and tracked down through several people. It was a good thing too, because both of us had reached a point where we would be dangerous to those who think they have some pseudo power.

Threatening kids and a dog and a single mother. Not on my watch.

And gladly we had the help of a friendly "gang" I have no other way to describe it.

I'm happy to report all the fantasies I had about setting the owner and his dog on fire and watching them run through the house are over. Clearly my friend and I are friends for a reason, because she shared a similar fantasy she had while laying awake worrying about her dog and her life.

If people threaten your life, it is okay to defend yourself. Jesus had that good idea about poking out each other's eyes or something gruesome like that. I'm kidding, but even as a child I didn't care for threats, I was, even then, about warnings.

I give one warning and then it's the choice of the warnee what they do next. They either believe I will do what I said or they don't and get a surprise.

I'm always glad though when I don't have to fight, it's been that way all my life, almost a habit. I didn't tell adults to get drunk and argue with me; that calls for a fight right?

I've lived off adrenaline but will always opt for a peaceful solution given that I feel the circumstances were misunderstood or have changed.

Not only am I a fighter but I'm also a fight breaker, meaning I can pinpoint the problem from the outside, but put me on the inside, and I might get slightly confused and start swinging without thinking.

It seems that my life is either going to get better or to hell with it. I've lived for the last three plus months on medications which have screwed up my chemistry.

And I woke up everyday ready to die in bed, except I always have to feed the parrot, the bird, my keeper. Quoth the macaw, nevermore. That crazy raptor from the other room who keeps me alive. Cusses like a true sailor now and that makes me both proud and uncomfortable.

As I've explained my stupid fucking thyroid is out of whack. I honestly wondered if my rage against the machine would target my former doctor who thought I should have the thyroid killed with radiation. I think of him often as my mind has hit depression and anxiety, two uncomfortable emotions which won't go away.

The company producing the thyroid which gave me one good year, is now out to lunch, and I'm screwed. The second try for help left me in serious shape, sweating and freezing within a nanosecond, pain everywhere, eyesight diminished, and the feeling that things weren't going so well.

What's next? I really can't take much more.

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