I’m thinking about deleting my secret project off of here because ExpressionEngine constantly updates caches, and that makes WP File Monitor go mad. I need to stop thinking about things and start doing. I have no motivation to do anything other than update my journals and feel depressed. It was bad yesterday. Two bottles of pills bad. I was thinking about all the things I’ve done or gone through in the past few weeks, and I just didn’t want to have to deal with these feelings anymore. My heart is heavy, my soul is strong, but my mind is weakening. I cannot control myself once I start. I save up medications and take them in huge doses. Sometimes I lose consciousness from this. Fair-weather friends abandon me forever. Reaching for these pills is rare, but it happens.
I went out trick-or-treating with Matt and my kids tonight. I wasn’t going to go. My back is broken. I have bone spurs, bulging discs and scoliosis. To make matters worse, that has lead to arthritis in my back and knees because I walk funny. We went three blocks, hitting both sides of the street, and then came home. Chloe kept running ahead of us, and I was so afraid she was going to get hit by a car. Almost every house was dark, cars were zooming around with no lights, and the mayor turned the city lights off months ago to save money. Add that to the fact that we have no sidewalks here, and I only have two hands to hold onto James and Ashe, and you get the perfect recipe for disaster. A tragedy waiting to happen.
I don’t know why Matt didn’t hang on to Chloe better. Oh yeah. Because he was painted gold, which oxidized before we got half way done, and with all that body glitter, not to mention he was just wearing short-shorts, no shoes, in cold weather, he could barely walk! And he laughed at me because I was dressed like an alien, but walking like Frankenstein’s Monster because of my back problems. DW tagged along behind us, not saying a word. I don’t know if he was scared or worried or both. Pictures in my journal soon. I promise.
The boys turned three today. Has it been that long? Three years? James is completely potty trained, but Ashe can read better than his brother, though he still has accidents sometimes. The kids are in bed now because of sweet overload. Two cakes plus bags of candy is going to equal some really bad belly aches in the morning. I’m debating not sending Chloe to school, but she may have missed too many days already and be in danger of failing.
Dennis called me from France this afternoon. France! Whoa! We talked and it seemed he just wanted to yell at me. He told me no more giving Chloe lunch money. WTF? The girl needs to eat, right? Then he told me to hurry up and pay the credit card bill so the card is turned back on because he may need to use it Friday. I hate to say this, but he’s supposed to be home for Thanksgiving on Saturday, and I am not looking forward to it, if he’s just going to complain about all of the things I haven’t done. He also made it a point to complain about the car being in the shop because it broke down Friday and stranded me. I didn’t do it. The thing breaks down every time I drive it. I think it’s time for a new car. But what do I know?
Last night Dennis and I took down PoRo’s room. We packed away her toys, her bedding, her bed, her clothes, her picture albums, her backpack, dance bag, purse, iPod, record player, laptop, tape player, records, art supplies, and other little things that littered her room. I remember getting her every single thing in her room, from the stuffed toys, to the bed that I put together for her in 2001, to the flute that she used to practice every day after school. I remember the starry night throw she would cover up with, her chenille bedspread, the old quilt she kept at the foot of the bed. I even packed away the little wicker dog bed she had for Ziggy at the foot of her bed. I stacked her school books in the old chair she had in her room to practice her flute at, and returned them today. The school bought back all of the books, even though I know there were several they no longer needed. I wasn’t sure what to do with all of her toys and clothes. I knew Chloe would love to have had them, but there is a part of me that would feel wrong in giving them to her. They were PoRo’s. She loved her things. I feel guilty enough that I am giving her old room to her little sister, leaving the three boys in the middle sized bedroom.
I’m sure that in another 5-10 years, we’ll come across that stuff in storage and throw it out. We just can’t do it yet. It’s almost as if we feel that should we keep that stuff, some day our little girl will come back and ask for it, and life will go back to normal. I know, realistically, that is never going to happen. I know the things would be better off donated to charity so another little girl could have what she needed. I know it’s selfish to want to keep these things until they are no longer usable, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. I just can’t.
I’m having a dizzy spell from the three Vicodins that I had to pop today because the pain was just that bad. Severe pain that radiated down my legs and throbbed at the ends of my toes. Pain that made me cry and scream. Pain that had an edge sharper than any sword. The three pills took the edge off the pain. It makes it tolerable, and I’m able to live with it, for some time. I have tried, for the last few days, to make an appointment with Doc Mick, but I cannot get through on his business line. I don’t know what is happening to me, or why it has chosen now to happen, I just know it’s wrong to feel this bad.
I’m starting to wonder if it is the stress? Is it the thought that in a few days I will be (essentially) alone, and have no one to lean on? Is it because I don’t know if I can do this alone? I really don’t want to live this life.
More shopping today. I cleaned a little more on the closet and the living room. I emptied an entire shelf on the entertainment center and packed away all the little cassettes I made when I was a teenager. Every month I made another tape. It’s time to lock away the past, right?
At the store, I picked up some of that Febreeze laundry add-in. With the unseasonal heat we’re having, we’re still sweating and stinking. I’m guessing we’re going to have a mild winter. I’ll never get to try out my new coat!!
My hair brush handle fell off the round end while I was trying to de-tangle my hair after washing and conditioning it. What the hell? This is the third brush I’ve managed to break this year. I’m not ripping my hair out by the roots or anything, so what’s the trip? Are they making hair brushes cheaper or something? I bought it at Claire’s if that counts. Normally, they have pretty good stuff.
I picked up some Jemma Kidd lip gloss. It’s great! I can’t stop putting it on! Even after I eat, I’m finding myself touching up my lips! They look alive again. I know it’s just an illusion, but it’s my illusion, so I’m happy with it.
I’m falling asleep at the keyboard once again. I had to take some more pain pills tonight. I know, it seems like this is habit forming, but I really am in pain, and these pills just take the edge off it. There has to be a better way.
I spent the last few hours in severe pain. Lying on the bed with the laptop, uploading photos to Twitpic and trying to take my mind off things by chatting with people at random sites. In the end, I had to take about 900 mg of Vicodin. I know that’s a high dose, but I have built up a tolerance to it, so I can handle large doses. The pain is subsiding, and Dennis called me to tell me that he’s coming home with the kids. The sad part? This happened after a relatively successful shopping trip. The pain started when I nearly tripped in the parking lot. I stumbled and caught myself on a parked car. When I got up, I was sore, stiff and in some pain. The pain progressed on the way home. It radiated down my left leg, which went numb after some time. I’ve been lounging on the bed since. I sent Dennis and the kids out to eat. I couldn’t keep anything down, even if I wanted to, and I couldn’t stand. So I tried to wait out the pain. Distract myself. It worked for a couple of hours, then I was forced to take the Vicodin. It just takes the edge off the pain. I still have to clean up for the night and try to sleep. I sometimes think this pain is the reason I can’t sleep properly anymore. I either wake up in the wee hours of the morning or I sleep all morning long. I never get to bed at a decent hour anymore.
I need some songs for PlayList. I only have one song. If you have any suggestions, contact me.
If you’re bored, ask me some anonymous questions, or add me on the music profile, or something. I want some interaction, damnit! What do you wanna bet that tomorrow, I’ll be as busy as hell, pain or no pain, and then everyone will want me to spend time with them, and I won’t have the time to do it? That’s the way these things happen.
I jazzed up the navigation bar up there. Now all I have to do is delete that email address, and dig through my images on the domain and then debate what two domains I want to keep. I have three. I’m going to have to let one of them go. Dennis made the rule that come November 5th, I have to pick the two domains I want, and the three sites (two for me, one for him) will be transferred to a cheaper registration. I just don’t know what to do with them. I love all of my sites. Even if two of them are neglected, I like the idea that sometimes I’d have a place to go to, you know? No sense dwelling on the bad part of this. There is a solution, one that will make me happy. I know it! I’d also love to get a Dreamhost account, but the downside to that is they probably would make me pay for hosting or close my accounts.
I just finished my father-in-law’s birthday cake, and I’m trying to relax before I go out to ice it. No, no photos of the monstrosity that I call a cake. Every time I bake a cake, or someone around here bakes a cake, I photograph it an pop it on the internet for all to mock. Not this time, though. Aren’t you sick of seeing these cakes? I may/may not post pictures of my father-in-law in his birthday tee that I bought him – it’s a green Pop Eye shirt that I bought at Target the other day when I went on my shopping spree. It’s kind of funny. The shirt is screen printed with Pop Eye’s body, with the head at the neck of the shirt, insinuating that the person wearing the shirt has Pop Eye’s head.
My shopping spree that day ended in some tragedy. I bought a new winter coat, in black, of course, and it fit fine. I got it home only to then try to button it. It fit over my hips and stomach, but my tits were too big. I couldn’t button the coat over them, and I look like I have two huge scoops of ice cream on my chest! It’s bad! I even tried it while wearing a bra, and got the same results! I thought about returning the coat, but I really like the one I have. It was one of the few in the store that the sleeves actually come down to my wrists and they’re not too long or too short or too tight at the ends or too baggy. I really want to keep it.
I finally got my first nose bleed from treatment. I was expecting it a little bit, so I went into the bathroom and privately bled into a kleenex for about ten minutes. No biggie. No one could even tell I’d been bleeding. I called Doc Mick shortly after to tell him about the side effect. He wasn’t surprised, but warned me that a bigger side effect is hair loss. Yes, I am going to be bald very soon. I’m not looking forward to that. It could happen in as little as the next treatment, or the fourth treatment. I may or may not have hair on Christmas. I know that seems so far away, but it’s not. Not when you’re anticipating something bad to happen.
I feel really tired tonight. Getting up at 5am probably has a lot to do with this, so I’m going to finish my six pages of writing for the night, ice the cake I made, and get ready for bed. Long day tomorrow, too. I have been off of my anti-depressants for over a week now. That could possibly be why I have no energy and people in general are pissing me off. Then again, it’s probably all just in my head.
I got everything done by noon, which was better than what I expected. Then the pain set in. I was down for over four hours. Tramadol is no longer touching the immense pain. I have to break out the Vicodin.
Better post after a while, people. I promise.
I had to delete everyone off the RSS feed, so if you’re reading this, you need to re-sign up. You have to be approved, so put something like “I read your entry and want to be re-approved” in the comment box. I had to do this because my harasser was on the RSS feed to get access to my entries and photos. Persistent bitch, isn’t she? She read my entry about craving sex from my husband and sent me a nasty little note calling me a “dirty, dirty slut”. Um…One of the perks of marriage is a life-long permission slip from God to have as much (or as little) sex with your partner as you both want/can have. Her common sense is right up there with that freaky Canadian who called an Asian blogger the *N* word. Never heard Asians called that before. Ahh the internet. It opens up all sorts of craziness. Literally. These people truly believe what they put out there, no matter how stupid it seems to the rest of the world. Anyone who tells them any differently is clearly psycho.
Onto better things.
Last night was bittersweet and wonderful. I wasn’t able to walk around much, nor was I able to ride any of the roller coasters at the fair. I was able to ride the sky ride a few times, mostly to get to the other side of the midway. There was the Giant Wheel. It’s a huge ferris wheel in the center of the fairgrounds. I love that ride, especially at night. The wildest thing I rode? The swings. Yes, I suffered a bad back spasm afterward. Getting in line for the merry go round, the pain was pretty bad. Dennis took out my pill box and gave me the pills. I swallowed them without a second thought. I just wanted the pain gone so badly. How dare it rob me of my fun? How dare I get hurt while trying to take photos of my daughter on rides and holding stuffed toys or of her and her daddy sharing the same ice cream cone? How dare I have to take narcotics in the middle of a fun night.
Getting on the pink reindeer on the merry go round, my head started tingling. I knew what that meant. Soon I would become a living zombie. I wouldn’t remember anything after the tingling stopped. Not until morning. Chloe was perched on a blue reindeer and Dennis was on an orange lion. I reached out and took Chloe’s hand, then Dennis’ hand. I was sitting between them, our animals were parallel. The tingling became more intense. I rested my head against the pole in front of me, glancing over at Dennis. “Tonight was the best,” I said, with a small smile. The alarm rang indicating the ride was going to start. Chloe jerked her hand away and grabbed a hold of the pole to her blue reindeer. The merry go round started slowly. My pink reindeer slowly started to climb above Dennis’ lion. It was a huge merry go round. The higher my reindeer climbed, the less intense the tingling in my head was. Slowly, my hand slipped out of Dennis’ as my reindeer peeked, and Dennis’ lion descended to nearly the ground. The tingling in my head stopped. As did my memory.
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