I forgot I had a blog. How does THAT happen? I forgot armed robbery was a criminal offense...
Easter was an interesting weekend. Unfortunately for me, I became ill several days before the holiday, which in itself is not unusual. Mostly it was a huge pain in my ever-shrinking ass.
Having my son come to spend some time here with his wife spurred me into more cleaning than I am generally capable of doing, and I did it while clutching my abdomen and groaning pathetically. I'm HUGELY grateful that I was alone for nearly all of it because, listen, is that sad or what?
The struggles with my health are epic and could fill pages should I choose to make the blog about them. I choose not to, although who knows what will happen as time passes? Over the last few weeks our insurance company has proven its Benedict Arnold soul again and again, as my frustration grows. While I continue to grow sicker, the insurance arbitrarily denies or approves certain tests and medications. I never know from day-to-day what is going to be allowed. And of course there's never an explanation.
ANYWAY. For whatever reason, the IBS that plagues me hit with a vengeance, and everything hurt. Putting anything into my system caused pain; consequently, I stopped putting anything into it. This isn't necessarily good because after a few days, it becomes difficult for me to eat ANYTHING, and the thought of food makes me nauseous. That's where I was on Saturday and Sunday, after several days of trying to get things under control. Monday started lousy, and improved with my determination to simply get SOMETHING in there. The something, which changes with each cycle of this vicious illness, turned out to be cheerios.
Today isn't so bad. Again, I started with the cheerios, and added some gluten-free nut clusters. Not too bad. I managed a bit of plain chicken breast and boiled yam at lunch. Its sad how proud I am that I managed to eat.
Unfortunately, the next step is trying to maintain some sort of natural bowel function. I cannot get in to see a doctor in any normal time frame. Appointments are booked 8 weeks out, so by the time I get in, I'm either back to feeling relatively normal, or the original problem has resolved itself and something else is wrong. I refuse to sit in Urgent Care, or clog the Emergency Room. I just deal with this as it happens, every month or so, and hope that some how, some way, I will find out what it is that causes it, and keep it to a minimum.
The Rubber Regency: Renovated and Reopened!
In the true spirit of a BBB (I'll explain that in a minute), I began a blog in 2005, continued it for three years and then got bored. Or something.
I'm not entirely sure WHY I stopped blogging. I think part of it was because I had become rather hit and miss with it, and lost most of my followers. While there were only a few, I am a bit of a narcissist and needed those people to validate me. Really? Seriously? That's pathetic. True, but pathetic. So I stopped.
Wouldn't it be just so much better if my reason was that mentally I had improved so much, my life was just totally better, and I was simply too busy to spend my time playing on the computer? BAHAHAHAHA......yeah, not so much.
These days I find myself in an interesting and unpleasant position. While I absolutely don't understand it, a marriage that was absolutely the joy of my life has slipped to the precipice of ... what? Disaster? I'll be writing more about that. I am so incredibly sad about this because what it ultimately boils down to is ...
My heart is broken.
I want to write that I adore my husband but that is the worst, cheesiest line EVER. After ten years there are things he does that irritate me. He blithely farts as he wanders through the room with no regard to the chemical warfare he leaves in his wake; he can't figure out which is the light laundry pile and which is the dark; he INSISTS he's told me things that I KNOW he hasn't; but worst of all, he and I have lost our ability to communicate and this is an absolute mystery to me. Honestly, I just don't get it. We each wear our individual labels, compliments of the Mental Health Industry, and boy does this make life troublesome. We're both stubborn beyond belief. Each of us tends to think the worst of whatever the other says ~ and this is new. I'll add a post later that will explain why, I guess. But despite all of this, he is the only man I will ever, have ever, could ever, love: deeply, madly, truly. So why is this difficult union justification for heartbreak?
I no longer trust him.
During the next while I'll post ramblings of the heart and head that will explain both my marriage and my mental illness. My aim here is to be as balanced and fair as is humanly possible. There's no doubt in my mind I'll fail.
As for the BBB, it was explained less than delicately by my psychologist whom I'll refer to as Dr. Doolittle (not because he does little, but because I've been less than human on more than one occasion), after I had an appointment with my psychiatrist (Dr. Jekyll/Hyde). He let it slip that she had called me a "BBB" and then smiled. In his defense, I am pretty sure he thought I knew what it was.
It stands for Borderline Bipolar Bitch.
Dr. J/H is not a particularly nice woman. But she's very good at what she does. Lucky for her.
~Meggy
I'm not entirely sure WHY I stopped blogging. I think part of it was because I had become rather hit and miss with it, and lost most of my followers. While there were only a few, I am a bit of a narcissist and needed those people to validate me. Really? Seriously? That's pathetic. True, but pathetic. So I stopped.
Wouldn't it be just so much better if my reason was that mentally I had improved so much, my life was just totally better, and I was simply too busy to spend my time playing on the computer? BAHAHAHAHA......yeah, not so much.
These days I find myself in an interesting and unpleasant position. While I absolutely don't understand it, a marriage that was absolutely the joy of my life has slipped to the precipice of ... what? Disaster? I'll be writing more about that. I am so incredibly sad about this because what it ultimately boils down to is ...
My heart is broken.
I want to write that I adore my husband but that is the worst, cheesiest line EVER. After ten years there are things he does that irritate me. He blithely farts as he wanders through the room with no regard to the chemical warfare he leaves in his wake; he can't figure out which is the light laundry pile and which is the dark; he INSISTS he's told me things that I KNOW he hasn't; but worst of all, he and I have lost our ability to communicate and this is an absolute mystery to me. Honestly, I just don't get it. We each wear our individual labels, compliments of the Mental Health Industry, and boy does this make life troublesome. We're both stubborn beyond belief. Each of us tends to think the worst of whatever the other says ~ and this is new. I'll add a post later that will explain why, I guess. But despite all of this, he is the only man I will ever, have ever, could ever, love: deeply, madly, truly. So why is this difficult union justification for heartbreak?
I no longer trust him.
During the next while I'll post ramblings of the heart and head that will explain both my marriage and my mental illness. My aim here is to be as balanced and fair as is humanly possible. There's no doubt in my mind I'll fail.
As for the BBB, it was explained less than delicately by my psychologist whom I'll refer to as Dr. Doolittle (not because he does little, but because I've been less than human on more than one occasion), after I had an appointment with my psychiatrist (Dr. Jekyll/Hyde). He let it slip that she had called me a "BBB" and then smiled. In his defense, I am pretty sure he thought I knew what it was.
It stands for Borderline Bipolar Bitch.
Dr. J/H is not a particularly nice woman. But she's very good at what she does. Lucky for her.
~Meggy
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