45 Minutes Late
Hmm. Guess who walked in 45 minutes after he was supposed to leave the studio?
Of course because I am such a horrible bitch, I’m being avoided. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Maybe I’m an evil, apathetic, cynical bitch, but when someone takes the wrong medication twice over a period of two days and has a bad reaction the second time, I’m less likely to really think it’s a “medical emergency”. Yep, Dennis took the wrong medicine again, this time in the morning, and now he wants to go out to the ER.
I told him to have one of his band-mates take him; I had to finish the laundry and get things ready for tomorrow morning.
Oh what a hateful thing to say! This was an emergency! I’m such a bitch! How could I say something like that?! I bet Darren wouldn’t say things like that…
Fine. Go be with Darren. I’m sick of saying “how high?” when I’m ordered to jump. I put my entire day on hold Friday, and I’m way behind now, so I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep putting my life on hold because Dennis wants attention now. I thought about telling him if he wanted attention so badly, he could wash the laundry or make the bed. I wouldn’t protest that too badly. Ha ha! Or maybe he could clean the bathroom up? That would certainly catch my attention. Being an ex-chronic drug over-doser, I know why and how people do it. The number one reason is attention, especially when they’ve experimented enough with the drug so they know how much to take to make them sick, because they’re such awful actors without the drugs, without killing them.
Besides, Litican isn’t that toxic in less than a gram, even if we had toxic levels of it here, it’s not as if people are dropping like flies over it.
A Day About Nothing
I wonder why Doc Mick upped my medication from Vicodin to Oxy? I have not taken any, too scared of the unknown side effects, but I’m curious as to why he’d do something like that. He also just gave me a bottle of Oxy in his office yesterday, in case I couldn’t make it to the drug store. I have a headache right now, but the hard parts are over. I won’t be needing anymore surgeries or procedures done for another year. I’m really happy about that. Does it mean that I’m getting well? The doctors I have rarely tell me anything. Doc Mick just drugs me and tells me to close my eyes and ‘not watch’ the procedures. But my morbid curiosity takes over, and I watch. This has annoyed him in the past, and he ups my dosages. I go back to see him Monday to get the stitches pulled. Then it’s over. I don’t go back for another year or so. Lucky, lucky me. I finally find a doctor who takes my pain seriously and gives me treatments that actually work and I can only see him once a year. That’s a good thing, I hope.
The weather has been strange here. It was “cold” yesterday and today. 68 was the high. For August, that’s not bad. It was October weather in the middle of summer. I’m torn between shutting the air conditioner off and turning it on after having a hot flash. The weather has made me restless. My sudden lack of pain has made me energetic. I want to go out and play in the nice weather while I can, but I devoted myself to solving the problems at home, first.
My monkeys have transformed to monsters. They trash the house. Let the dogs out the front door, where there’s no fenced yard. Turn the pet rat loose in the house. Dump food out of the cabinets and ice box. Dump trash out of the cans. Pull the sheets off mommy’s bed. Chloe even unplugged my bed; in both areas, and when I laid down today, water gushed out of the mattress all over me! All of them, except for Hayley, are acting up. No amount of sending them to their rooms or locking things up seem to help. When all else fails, they tear up the carpet and peel the wall paper off the walls. This transformation has come because mommy and daddy are mad at each other and they can feel the tension. They’ve guessed that if mommy and daddy are mad at them, we can’t be mad at each other anymore. It’s brilliant, really. They have outsmarted and out numbered us, and their plan worked. For now. There are deeper issues that have to be surfaced, and those issues aren’t going to be resolved overnight, nor will they be solved in front of the kids. We’re going to talk about this. Not tonight, because I’ve got a migraine starting, but soon.
I joined Digg. Add me?
As much as I hate to say it, I fear we’re growing apart.
I have no respect for you anymore. You’re just a stranger with wadges. All we talk about are things that the other does to annoy.
That’s why I have been spending time with that other guy. Oh, and why I’ve probably lost 35+ lbs. He motivates me.
Don’t get me wrong, I love you, but we’re just not compatible anymore. All you care about is yourself and the people who hurt me dearly, and all I seem to care about is moving forward and making myself a better person in the long run.
I realise I’m probably a terrible person for expressing this, but that is the way it is. I want us to work, I really do. I know this is not a single-sided thing, and I’m willing to work with you, if you’d just respond to my touch again.
I fear you stopped loving me.
I fear you have grown to dislike me.
I fear for what I may do in a little over 12 hours.
I fear what our future will be.
I fear we may have no future.
You can calm my fears. But will you…?
This afternoon, my husband asked me if I wouldn’t mind changing the sheets on the bed, if I had time, that is. Seems that they’re gritty from him eating cheddar fries in the bed, the dog dragging dirt in the bed and sand from Chloe. So sleeping on that bed is like sleeping on sandpaper.
But I was in a bitch mood today, so when he asked me that, I replied, “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have time to make the bed today. I have to go out and sell myself on the streets to get that money for my mom. Oh, and I’m already behind a day. Sorry.”
He just stared at me for a second and then walked away. The bed is still unmade.
Milestones
Long day today.
I accomplished something I think was a huge step: I drove again for the first time. It’s been a little over a week, and by a little I mean down to just a few hours, since I’ve driven a car. It was Lance’s car. It was dusk when we piled in. I was a little scared, and he put on Wham! songs. I just can’t be depressed listening to Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. It’s not natural for me. We went to buy my husband something for his birthday. I’d taken Chloe along because she really wanted to buy her daddy something for his birthday. She’s been saving up pennies and money we’ve found in the streets, and she had all of $3.24. I felt a little sad at her for thinking she could get anything for her daddy with that little amount of money. Maybe a Starbucks small coffee? He’d sure like that, though! 
I’m not going to tell what I bought my man, because it’s wrapped and I’ve been getting weird hits from a local IP, but I have a picture:
Cute, no?
At school, it was free t-shirt day. I got one for my dad. I’m going to take it over to him tomorrow. I got this little bear, too:
I named him “Danny Bear” after my (asshole!) doctor. But only because my doctor’s vanity plates read: “DannyBoi” in some variation. It makes me giggle and roll my eyes at the same time.
I’m sure that sooner or later the bad part of today is going to circulate somewhere. I shared with some of my close friends, but we all know how emails get passed around like …. prison currency, right? Especially if they contain something juicy. Which mine did. I will say that I am being emotionally tortured, and I can’t tell anyone that I normally can because they’re all busy with my husband’s birthday. Even his ex is in town, in our house right now, making him a birthday cake. My back was against the wall and I did something stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted some relief. I’m not sorry that I did it. I’ll probably do it again and again until it eventually does what I wanted it to do on that whim. Yes, I know, I suck. It’s the life of a clinically depressed pessimist. I smile and seem happy on the outside but inside I’m still curled up on the floor, sobbing. Hell, I cried the first day of class this semester. I cried after wards. Sean told me I cried when I got my IVs. Don’t worry about me. I’m still here.
Mental note
Didn’t know I was a cheap slut for having sex with my husband. Thanks for the reminder, mother. I can really tell you’re showing off for one of your cheap friends.
I was talking to a friend today who reminded me that my husband is throwing his ex a birthday party for him in May. She complimented me on how calm I was about the whole thing. How I had nerves of steel. No honey, it’s not nerves of steel, it’s the coke, it’s the pills. Seriously, I’m crying inside.
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
