self, intoxicated

I am not having a good time. I am really trying hard to stay positive about things, but on days like today, it's close to impossible. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining or that I want people to feel sorry for me, because I know that many people are worse off than I am, and I want nothing more than for things to just get better. In a very general sense. I just need to get a few things off my chest. Maybe if I write about them, transfer my worries to (virtual) paper, they won't plague my mind so much.

About a month and a half ago, I started getting migraines. They were initially caused by something that you would ABSOLUTELY NOT want to cause them. I won't go into further detail for fear of being far too open on a public forum. But suffice it to say that this complicates my life much more that it already is. If you only knew. But, even after the "pounders" stopped happening (whether because of the drugs, or time), I was (and am) still getting headaches. Every single freaking day. Some are not so bad and I can go almost 24 hours without taking some kind of pain reliever, but some are pretty intense and can impede on my routine. When I visited the doctor, he was less than sympathetic. For the first time in my life, I felt like my physician wasn't interested in helping me. The same physician who I've been going to since I was 10, who saw me through my whole Takayasu's Arteritis ordeal, who knows more about my medical history than anyone on this earth. My Mom was in the exam room with me, and when she asked if a certain thing has ever been known to trigger migraines, not necessarily hinting that that was my cause, he laughed while telling us of the one patient of his who claimed to have that trigger, following up with, "Can you imagine that?" I was shocked. "That's what caused mine," I said flatly. He left the room. I didn't understand his reaction to my Mom's question. Did he not believe his other patient, and therefore not believe me? Did he not understand how this could seriously damage a person's life? This was just the very beginning of what I discovered to be a widespread apathy towards migraine sufferers by non-sufferers. For some reason, unless they've personally experienced one, or are close to someone who has, most people don't understand that a migraine is more than just a bad headache. Bear with me for a moment while I attempt to illustrate what my migraines felt like. Imagine someone has just drilled a hole in your head, near the base of your skull, and now they are slowly pouring acid into that hole in your skull, and with every beat of your heart, that acid gets pumped through your brain, slowly burning its way through your brain cells, rendering you completely incapacitated until the pain subsides. And even when it does subside, some hours later, it's still the worst headache you've ever had. No position is comfortable, nothing eases the pain except time, and even that is unreliable. Not to mention, the other symptoms that can accompany the debilitating pain. I am led to believe that my migraines are different than most peoples' in that I only experienced the nausea, and not the sensitivity to light and sound, and that lying down made my pain worse, as opposed to better. But regardless of the accompanying symptoms, the pain is something I would not wish on my worst enemies. The world stops when you have a migraine, only it doesn't. You still have the same responsibilities, you just are physically incapable of upholding them. This was the worst of it. These happened off and on over two weeks. I missed a lot of work, even more social activities, and I practically moved in with my parents just so I wouldn't be alone. After I started to feel a bit better, and had a few drugs in my arsenal, I went home again. But I still had the memory of walking around my apartment in the worst pain I had ever been in. Any activity that had preceded one of these headaches was now frightening to me. I wondered whether I'd get another one every time I walked up or down the stairs, every time I did my laundry, every time I parked my car, every time I went to the bathroom, every time I woke up in the morning. These were not true triggers, but events that had happened immediately before I got a "pounder" in the days following the initial trigger and headache - kind of like an aftershock. (I apologize if this is a bit confusing - I'm not sure it makes complete sense to me either.) I took it easy for the next few weeks, while still trying to force myself to do those things again that I was afraid of. I had to get back to my life. And for the most part, I have. However, I still get a headache every single day. At any given moment, I've got some drug in my system, whether it be Relpax, Excedrin Migraine, naproxen, or something else. I can't kick these things. My sleep is crap lately, and I'm tired ALL the time. Tylenol PM, or a muscle relaxer are sometimes necessary for me to get a restful sleep, though I learned earlier this week that with my early work hours, taking these things on a weeknight is not such a good idea. The problem is that I don't want to rely on drugs to get me through the day. And there are these things called rebound headaches that happen after a medication wears off. I don't know if what I'm getting are rebound headaches or not, but I'd sure like to know how to get rid of them. I try over and over again to just not take anything and hope the pain goes away, but 100% of the time, it just ends up getting worse and forcing my hand. Every day I wonder if I'm going to have a headache for the rest of my life.

Jeez, that was detailed. And thorough. God willing, I'll never have to mention it again. I just want it to go away. I am going to make a desperate plea right now that any comments not contain any suggestions as to how to treat my headaches. Because chances are, I've already tried it. Thanks for your understanding.

If only this was my only problem. But I did not intend to write quite so much about the headaches (I guess I needed to vent more than I realized), so I think I will leave it at that. In the process of releasing my stress and worries into the void, I do not want to inadvertently inflict any of it onto my friends, so this is where I will stop. I think this is enough for one day, don't you?

First off, let me apologize for my post yesterday. I was being a nattering nabob of negativity, as my dad would say, and though I cannot change the fact that I occasionally have such feelings, I don't really need to subject others to them. I have not deleted the post yet, though. I haven't decided if I will. A part of me wants to delete it to make it easier to pretend that my life is all sunshine and rainbows (Did I forget to tell you about the butterfly who landed on my head last week?). But another part of me wants to keep it up as a reminder of what will happen when I let my passing insecurities get the better of me. We'll see which part of me is the stronger part.

Now let me get to the topic of this post. I have an acquaintance who I am about ready to beat over the head with a sledgehammer (figuratively speaking, of course). He has a litter of kittens living under his deck. If you're on my e-mail list, you may have received an e-mail from me yesterday about adopting said kittens. If anyone out there in the void would like to adopt a kitten, I implore you to do so, because if you don't, these kittens are likely to die under this guy's deck. All because of his deplorable laziness, ignorance, indifference and apathy. That's a lot of nouns.

If I was in the position that the guy is in, I would do everything in my power to make sure that these cats are taken care of. Here are the things he's done: 1) he called Animal Control and some shelters in the area and nobody will come to pick them up - he'd have to deliver them himself, so 2) he attempted ONCE to gather them up into a carrier, but failed, so he gave up. His solution? Tell his neighbors to stop feeding them, and close his blinds so he doesn't have to look at them anymore. In essence, he feels that if he doesn't see it, the problem doesn't exist. I came up with many other suggestions, like canvassing the neighborhood to see if anyone wanted to adopt a kitten, or posting a picture on a website saying "free to a good home" or something along those lines. Apparently all of those ideas are too much work. TOO MUCH WORK MY ASS. I asked him point blank if he'd rather have these cats die under his deck than to take a few minutes out of his day to try and find homes for them. He told me, "I wouldn't let that bother me." Are you freaking kidding me? He just admitted to not having a conscience.

Admittedly, I am a sentimental person. I like dogs and cats because they're cute. I feel bad when I see dead animals on the side of the road. The couple of times that I've hit things with my car I've actually had to pull over because I was crying. When we put my dog to sleep, I literally cried all day to the point of exhaustion, and a good portion of the following week. Animals in need make me sad. I understand that these cats may not die just because he isn't finding homes for them. Perhaps their mother will be able to take care of them and teach them to find food themselves. I also understand that strays and their litters often fall by the wayside if they aren't fortunate enough to be noticed by a caring human. So my point is that if this situation had befallen me, if I was the person who had the opportunity to do something good for a litter of kittens so they would not have to endure the harshness of the outside world, I WOULD DO EVERYTHING I COULD. I am not above knocking on peoples' doors. I am not above putting up signs in my neighborhood that say "Free kittens to anyone who can catch them!" I am not above sending out mass e-mails to my friends asking if they wouldn't like a little furry friend in their home. And it infuriates me that there are people out there who feel they are.

That's me.

I feel irritated by everyone around me. I feel slighted and unwanted by the people I try to reach out to. I feel like no one is listening to me. But most of the time I don't even have anything to say.

Work is fine but I don't have any friends here anymore. People seem to tolerate my presence, rather than enjoy it. The apartment is beginning to shape up, but being in that place means that I'm alone. I enjoy being alone when my time is peppered with other social activities, but not when there is no end in sight. It's not a good thing to sleep for four hours in the middle of the day for no reason other than I have nothing else to do. And the social interactions I have had as of late have felt forced and unnatural.

It's not that I'm lacking things to look forward to. Summer is about to begin and soon the city will be chock full of activity. But somehow it isn't bring me any joy like it's supposed to - like it has every summer before. I just can't seem to connect.

Gonna post this now, but most likely it will be deleted in a day or two after I start to feel embarrassed for sharing so much.

I take I-90 to go to and from work, and pretty much every day, on my way home, there is a (I would say a homeless person, but I'm not entirely convinced that the people asking you for money are always homeless, so we'll say ...) beggar on the Addison off-ramp. It's not always the same guy - I've seen a few different guys during the time I've been taking this route - but which ever guy it is, he will usually do the same little routine. When the light has just turned red, he's standing right at the corner with his cup or sign or whatever method he's chosen to use. As soon as cars start to accumulate and come to a stop, he slowly walks down the sidewalk trying to catch eye contact with people so he can ask them for money. He'll get several cars down, and then, when the light turns green again and they start to move through the intersection, he'll turn around, walk back up to the corner and start the whole process again. One guy that spent quite a bit of time working that ramp had one of those hand-written signs. Out of curiosity, I would attempt to take a look at the sign so I could see what it said (if it told of his situation, or promised he wasn't going to use the money on alcohol, or what have you), but the writing was so small and scrawly that I could never make out anything more than "Please Help." If I tried to look harder at the sign, he would inevitably see me looking his direction and use it as an opportunity to come straight up to my car and ask me for money. Now don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against charity, but I don't like to give money to random people on the street because you really don't know what their situation is, or what they'll be using the money for. Having said that, it is much easier to simply avoid eye contact than to actually say "no" to a person asking you for money. And this is why I never found out what the rest of the guy's sign said. I still wonder. The last week or so, though, it's been a different guy. This guy is quite a bit younger, and doesn't have a sign, just a paper cup. A couple of days ago, I was sitting on the ramp and I was a bit farther back at the light, so he didn't get all the way up to my car before the light turned green. But as soon as it did turn green, Oh My God. He was on the curb next to the car in front of me and as we passed him by, he actually got down on his knee, holding his paper cup out in front of him and looked me straight in the eye - no avoidance was possible. Never before in my life had it made me so sad to not give money to someone on the street. I realize this was probably his intention all along, but seriously! I felt the pang in the pit of my stomach. Ouch.

And in other heartbreaking news ... yesterday while all the yucky wet stuff was falling from the sky (Storm? Hah!!) and the streets were sloppy and gross, I saw the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life. A single page from a coloring book, all colored in (a little blue and purple doggie), lay abandoned or lost, slightly crumpled, and very soggy on the sidewalk around the corner from my apartment. So sad. Poor doggie.

Sorry for the lack of posts, but I've been feeling kind of uninspired lately. Even though I've had lots on my mind, I haven't really been in the mood to write about it. I'm hoping for two things to happen in the near future, though, so perhaps, if and when they do happen, I will have something to write about. I can't guarantee that they will be good things, seeing as how things have been decidedly crappy lately, but news is news, right? And at this very moment, I could not disagree more with the phrase "no news is good news." I'll explain later.

Ciao!

Oh! One good thing to report -- I bought my ticket for Lollapalooza today!! Woo hoo!! And The Secret Machines are playing!! Woo hoo again!! Yay for super groovy 3-day outdoor music fests in my very own city! (Did I just say "groovy"? Wierd.)

It's only 9 a.m. and I'm already having "one of those days." You know, one of those days when you're just tired of life. I'm tired of caring and feeling and being affected by the world around me. Today I wish I could turn off my brain and my emotions and just be a robot and go through my life doing what needs to be done and that's it. I'm tired of pain, physical and emotional, I'm tired of disappointment, of dissatisfaction, of caring about others who won't care about me, and of feeling like I'm trudging through mud just to make it to the end of the day. I'm afraid I'm going to break down one of these days and my body will completely fall apart and disintigrate. Best case scenario, it will make me numb to the world and I won't have to care anymore. I try to focus on the Self to relax and make the world go away, but it's harder that you'd think it would be to separate the Self from the people and the situations that surround it. Who are we without others? We are what we think, but aren't many of those thoughts put there by others? We are what we like, but aren't those things created by others? We are what we do, but aren't we doing those things for others?

I feel overwhelmed by thoughts and controlled by emotions and it makes me very tired. I need to shut down. Reboot. I need a long sleep. And I'll wake up when my brain is clear and my spirit enlightened.

I feel awful. Physically. I feel worn out, and even though most of the symptoms of my cold are gone, I have this horrible, horrible pain in the center of my chest and back (mostly my back, actually). Everyone seems to think it is a lingering symptom of my cold (my doctor included), and I hope they're right. I hate to think I have any other wierd diseases on top of the one wierd disease I already have. My Mom even says she's had this pain before and it eventually goes away. I reeeeeeally hope it goes away. And soon. Sometimes it hurts so bad it makes me want to cry.

On a related note, I will be going in for another MRI soon to check on my aortic arch, in hopes that the inflammation has stayed down with the decrease in Prednisone dosage. Here's hoping. Though with this crippling pain in the core of my body right now, I find it hard to be optimistic about anything. Add to that, the increasingly intense wisdom tooth pain that I will need to get checked out soon, the unexplained pain in the back of one side of my neck that insists on keeping me up at night, and the sharp pain behind my right shoulder blade that has been plaguing me for months and shows no sign of letting up.

Hate to be a complainer, but yeah, it sucks to be me right now. I hurt.