Scattered Thoughts

  • I’m not sleeping again.  The past week it’s been pretty bad.  I just don’t feel like there’s any point in trying to fix it.  I’m used to sleep deprivation by now, and I can deal with it.  I’d rather just deal with it than go back on meds that leave me foggy all day long.
  • Don’t pick a chauvinist fight with me on the internet at 2:00 am.  I get pretty punchy.  And if you’re dumb enough to provoke a fight by being a sexist asshole, then don’t think you’re going to win by insulting me and trying to shut me up.  It’s not going to work, and you’ll look like an idiot because I can dance rhetorical circles around you.  And I will laugh about it the whole fucking time.  Especially at your pathetic insults and attempts at intimidation.  I work in politics, and I talk to people much, much scarier than you, Princess Poop-for-Brains.  You’re gonna have to really step it up if you want to scare me.
  • I went to a meet & greet with our Lieutenant Governor candidate and several state senators and representatives.  I went with a friend who lives in the same ward as I do, and the city councilor from our ward was there.  He came over and said hi, and he said, “You’re the only normal people here.”  Um, thanks?  I don’t often get called normal.  Ten minutes later he called me a unicorn, after I said I was one of those rare voters who is persuaded by facts and hard data rather than abstractions and fuzzy-wuzzy feelings about a candidate.  (We’ll leave my huge Platonic crush on Joe Biden out of this.)  So apparently I’m a normal unicorn.
  • My gastroenterologist’s office called and said my labs all came back normal.  Uh, then why can I still not stand up for more than two minutes?  I just want a definitive answer about what the hell is going on with my body.  Even if it can’t be treated, even if it’s going to get worse, I want to know.  If I know what’s going on and what I can expect in the future, then I can accept it.  But how can you accept something when you don’t know what it even is?  How can I make plans and learn how to deal with it if I don’t know what’s happening?  It’s just so frustrating.
  • My new case manager is somewhat better than the last one, but she never asks how I’m feeling or how I’m coping.  I can’t find it in me to bring up on my own how much I’m struggling, and I can’t ask for more help on my own.  But if she would just ask, then I could tell her.  But she doesn’t, so I can’t.  I hate how powerless that makes me sound.  Hell, I hate how powerless it makes me feel.  But for now, that’s the reality of the situation.
Advertisements

7 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

7 responses to “Scattered Thoughts

  1. First off, I love reading your second point after posting what I just did. Also- I totally get everything you are saying. Well… except for the normal unicorn part… no one’s ever called me either of those things! But I TOTALLY get how having someone ask is different than being able to tell. And I’m sorry for how it makes you feel. I feel that too. 😦

    • Yeah, it’s funny–we must’ve both been writing our feminist rant posts at the same time. Great minds think alike, huh? 🙂

      I kind of like the idea of being a normal unicorn. I’ve always been into cognitive dissonance with a dash of surrealism.

      I’m glad someone understands needing to be asked. It’s so hard for me to speak, and there are all these rules in my head to keep me isolated and keep me from asking for help. It makes it impossible for me to ask for help. But she’s a DMH case manager, so how does she not even ask how I’m doing emotionally? I mean, come on!

  2. I am shocked that your case manager does not even ask how you are doing. It is hard to not be asked. My relationship with my therapist keeps me alive. I need to have someone to share my suffering with. As soon as I go into her office I just start talking. It has taken me 10 years to build this kind of relationship. Sometimes I wonder if she ever gets tired of hearing about my bliss and suffering. I also have physical illnesses that can’t be explained. Today, I understand that it is part of my PTSD. PTSD has such physical health complications. I know what it is like to want an answer to solve the problem.

  3. I can’t believe she doesn’t ask how you’re feeling/doing. That’s crazy. You’d think as a case manager she’d know how important that is.

    I’m sorry you’re not sleeping well. Does your IBD get affected by having less sleep? I found out this week that mine does 😦

    • I haven’t noticed sleep deprivation making my symptoms worse, but for some reason, I’m always sicker at night, even when my sleep is otherwise okay. My GI doc said that’s fairly common with IBD, but apparently no one knows why.

  4. so sorry she doesn’t ask how you are. that seems odd to me. I mean isn’t that part of her job description? its worrying that she never asks you and your left struggling. hope you find out what the matter is regards to your weakness and fatigue xoxo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s