What. The. Actual. Hell. I was fine. I wasn’t even paying attention to it. Robert has some music playing quietly in the background because he likes some noise when he sleeps. I’m just here reading random crap online with zero point behind it hoping that I’ll be able to get some sleep myself soon as the past few days have been really hard on me in that regard. I’m not feeling particularly depressed or anything, mostly just really tired, and I just start crying. I know it’s the song that started playing and I know what I was feeling while it was going on. I just don’t know what triggered it exactly. As I said: Just tired. Just reading. Just crying? And as quickly as it came, it vanished again. I can’t really be that easily manipulated by music, can I?

Saw my podiatrist. Foot is healing but not healed. She still doesn’t want me walking on it. Gave me a new, less obtrusive shoe to replace the boot for now. I told her about the blisters and she cleaned them and gave me some supplies to keep up on them. The new shoe is because of the blisters and she wants to see me again in two weeks. I think I’m actually going in on the 19th to be specific. I really can’t blame her because the one on the bottom of my foot is rather nasty looking. I gather the boot will be returning after they heal enough.

Made a bunch of other appointments. Optometrist is tomorrow. Primary care is the 30th. Dentist is in early May. Still need to get that referral for my wisdom teeth done now that my insurance should be sorted. Chiropractor is still on hold until my foot heals more. Not much reason to go since it’s for my back and I’m still not supposed to be walking so… I was really hoping I’d be able to start exercising again. I’m guessing summer by this point. At least I still seem to be loosing weight. Well, fluctuating down I should say. Overall lower numbers are good either way.

Oh good. Another emotionally manipulative song just came on. I think I’m going to be able to sleep here soon. Starting to have trouble typing. When I have to keep going over words because I’m misspelling them over and over or have to pause for a second because I can’t remember how to spell them at all in the first place–. Once, in third grade, I forgot how to spell the word “of”. I actually had to ask the teacher because I kept spelling it “ove” and I knew something was wrong with that but couldn’t figure out just what.

Thirty-some-odd-years later that’s still a vivid memory for me. I wonder why that is. Why would I remember something so insignificant with such clarity and yet forget so many other much more important things. I can remember misspelling a two-letter word when I was nine but I can’t remember my own father’s face, his voice, smell, touch. I can see the shadow but it’s so far away. Was it ever even real to begin with? It’s running from me. Or am I running from it?

Where the hell is this coming from?

I don’t think I’m safe right now.


Better late than…

So about two months have passed since I last posted anything here. Whatevs. I don’t do this for you. I do this so someone rich and/or famous will notice me and give me money. Yeah, that makes total sense.

Got my new foot x-rays finally. Only about a month and a half later than my podiatrist wanted me to get them done. Good news is that it looks like my broken foot is healing. I think. The break is definitely knitting back together but there’s this sort of semi transparent lump around it on the bone. I need to do some research and see if that’s normal. I just hope that it is because I don’t need anything else going wrong with my foot.

Which leads me into a bunch of new issues. About a week ago, after I had set up my appointment to get my x-rays done, I started trying to exercise again. My foot wasn’t really hurting that much so I thought it had to be healing by now so I might as well start again. I was (apparently) right that it was healing but the fallout from me starting to exercise again has been extreme.

I’ve developed not one, not two, but a total of three major blisters on my left foot. The first was when I started exercising again, literally that day, and I think was caused by the way I was walking. It formed on the bottom of my foot near a callous. It’s almost completely healed now. The second was caused by my “boot”, that I started wearing again after my foot unexpectedly swelled up from me exercising. I guess it was rubbing the top of my foot and a rather large blister appeared there. It’s still healing and even feels a little sticky. It’s not pretty right now but I hope it’s getting better.

Blister number three happened like yesterday. I have no idea where this one came from. I’ve been off and on wearing my boot again for about a week now but also not walking any real distance either. Last night I noticed that my foot was really, really swollen under a large callous that I have on the bottom of it. After a bit of limping on it because it was hurting so much, I realized that it was actually a very large blister formed under the entire callous. I don’t know if I did the right thing here but I popped the blister and, after realizing that the entire callous was now slipping and sliding around, ended up cutting it free. So now I have a big, bloody patch of skin on the bottom of my foot. I have a huge bandage covering it and I’m cleaning it out regularly. I just hope I didn’t do something stupid but walking on it seemed almost stupider.

Now I just need to make appointments to see all my doctors again, my podiatrist included. I’m kind of worried that she’s going to tell me that I screwed up with the blister so I’m delaying a bit until it can heal over enough to not look like something from a horror movie. One of the issues is that I have so much neuropathy in my feet that it doesn’t really hurt. I guess that’s going to help a lot with the healing process but it’s also going to be a problem with figuring out if something is going wrong (or wronger, really) with it. Oh well. Too late now to worry about it.

On to more happy things: I’ve lost a good 15 to 20 pounds, depending on how much I weigh on a given day as my weight can fluctuate by as much a nine pounds in a 24 hour period for some reason. I’m down to around 265. And that’s with little to no exercise. That’s also with little to no food, sometimes going an entire day or two without eating anything. Maybe that’s not the best way to lose weight but it’s been working so far.

My blood sugar has been amazing for the most part, probably from the lack of eating. Besides the random spike now and then I’ve been managing well bellow where I need to be. Everyone wants me bellow a 6.5. As of late I’ve been bellow 5.5, which is normal. Meaning I’ve actually been having slightly lower blood sugar readings than people who aren’t diabetic. I’m cool with that. But I still need to be careful. I was down to a 5.1 or 5.2 at one point. That’s too low. I’m usually around 5.4 or 5.5 though. Just checked and I’m reading at 5.3. I should eat something to bring my sugar up a little. I’ll probably just grab one of the sugar sodas we keep in the fridge for sugar crashes. I’ve also noticed that even drinking a whole can will only raise my blood sugar by about maybe 20 points. Whatever I’ve been doing lately seems to be really working for me. Hopefully my doctor doesn’t take that as a sign to cut my insulin or other meds. I’m always worrying about running out before I can get my next refill since my insurance really won’t give me any leeway.

Okay, that’s good for now. I pulled the bandage off the bottom of my foot and I’m going to give it a little breathing time as the skin around it is all white and puffy. Let it dry out a bit then wrap it up for another day or two. In the mean time I’m going to look up and see if the way my broken bone is healing is typical or not.

That’s it.


It’s late and I’m nauseous.

So what else is new?

In two days I’ll be 41. I’m not happy about that. It’s not that I’m upset about getting older. I’m more upset that the number keeps going up but I never seem to actually feel like I’m anywhere near it. I’m a child not even playing at being an adult. I just don’t see the purpose in pretending to be something that I’m not.

It makes me feel so isolated. I’ve heard other people talk about not feeling their age but in my case it’s different. I honest to goodness don’t feel like I’ve aged any psychologically since I was 12. As such all of the things that adults are allowed and even expected to do? I can’t do them. I’m not an adult. I’m not allowed to. And when people expect such things of me? I shut down and/or run and hide. I can’t do or be those things no matter how hard I or others may want it of me.

As I continue to age and… not… age… I feel more and more confused. The cognitive dissonance of being a child old enough to suffer from a mid-life crisis feels so very, very wrong. The fact that I’ve lost most of my hair isn’t helping either. I look old and tired. Ugly. I’ve always been ugly. Inside though, I just feel tired. Exhausted really. I don’t feel so old but at the same time I do.

Let me try to explain a bit better: I’ve always been older than my age. When I was a kid, a teenager specifically, I always acted much older than I was. I used to bang on the wall between me and my brother’s room yelling for him to turn his damn music down. I cleaned obsessively. So much so that I would purposefully leave certain things messy in an attempt not to appear crazy. Thinking about it now, that kind of makes me crazy. But that’s how I was, that’s what I became about the time I started puberty. Everything had to be perfect and yet nothing could be.

I remember once when my nephew came over to visit. He said something to me that still sticks with me today. He told me that my room looked like a monk lived in it. It was neat, tidy, and sparse, just as I liked it. I had no idea just how odd that apparently was. I felt unbelievably embarrassed. My attempt at playing being a person had failed. If even my nephew could see through me it would obviously be even easier for anyone else.

So tired. Beginning to lose the plot here. I lost the person I wanted to be a long time ago. I gave up. It was the best I felt I could do. Being an adult meant being something I couldn’t understand. Being a child meant being something that I never really was. Walking through limbo. Struggling through the shadows of what others expected of me, what I expected of myself. I want to burn it all away. Scatter the ashes to the winds.

So tired.

So very, very tired.

When all else fails…

I’ve started writing a new post, I dunno, four or five times only to stop shortly into it. I currently have three drafts waiting in the wings that I have no intention of finishing and I know for a fact that I deleted a few already. Will this post make it? I don’t know. What’s it to you? Stop asking me questions! What are you? A cop? You gotta tell me if you’re a cop.

I can’t seem to decide on what I want to write about. My current health is kind of in limbo. I’m stuck waiting until my foot heals before I can really deal with anything in regards to that. I need to call and schedule a ride to get my next x-rays soon too. Monday, really. I’m seeing the podiatrist on February 1st so I need to get them done before then and the ride people require five business days lead time. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before but arbitrary bullshit always bares repeating. The last time I called them they whined about needing my doctor to fill out a form for them that I was under the impression they already had. I don’t know how often that needs to be done but it can’t be every few weeks, can it? These people really don’t seem to have their act together at all.

In my all encompassing intelligence I think I may have screwed up my foot though. A few days ago I decided that I was sick and tired of being trapped at home and so I went for a short walk. It was raining so I didn’t wear my boot, as it’s mostly made of foam, but I did wear my ankle support. Anyway, it was a very short walk, maybe two average sized blocks in distance, but by the time I got home I was feeling a strange pulling sensation in my foot around where the fracture was. I wondered if it was just my imagination but my foot has definitely been more sore and painful to the touch there as well. I really hope I didn’t screw anything up but if I did and have to start healing all over again it would be my own damn fault.


I saw my shrink finally. It was a strange visit. The whole thing was strange, actually. I was supposed to show up early for group, then see my services coordinator to fill out my yearly re-authorization paperwork, and then finally see the doctor. Well, I go there early for group only to find out that my services coordinator was currently out on medical leave. No one told me why and I didn’t ask. Then, during group, I simply broke down crying. I don’t know why. I think everything has just been getting to me. They had me see another services coordinator and we talked for a bit and then completed my re-authorization.

A couple hours later I saw the doctor, and things got even weirder. She seemed like she was really pushing me to leave the facility. Not that she didn’t think I needed care, but that she wanted me to go somewhere else. To be precise, she wanted me to transfer to my current medical clinic. Now, I get all of my physical medical care at one place but my psychological care at another. My medical place also has a psychiatric care department but from what everyone has told me it’s simply not up the the standards of the facility I go to for my psychiatric care currently. As such, everyone there has recommended that I stay where I am.

This doctor was insisting that I switch over to them. Of course I would prefer to be able to receive all of my care from one single integrated facility but if that means receiving substandard services then I can’t really abide that. Strangely, she also told me that she was thinking about transferring over to my current medical facility. From what I hear, they could really use the help. But still, the whole situation just felt really odd. I’m wondering if the county has told them that they should be expecting to see funding cuts and as such they should cut down on the number of patients they see. It would make sense, but be odd that they wouldn’t simply be forthright about it. They were when a similar situation came up several years ago, although that was thankfully resolved without issue

Anyway, she eventually prescribed me a new medication: Cymbalta. I haven’t started taking it though because it’s currently at the pharmacy and I currently have no way of currently getting there because of my current issues involving my current foot… currently. Robert’s been completely out of commission this entire past week as well. So I’m currently (STOP THAT!) stuck waiting until, hopefully, Monday at the very latest. Robert has group a few blocks from the pharmacy and should be able to pick it up for me then, as long as he goes that is. As I said, he’s been out of commission but hopefully getting better. It’s a wait and see game, and he might yet get worse again before he gets better but you know what they say about clouds: They all have unicorns or rainbows or some such other crap. I dunno. I don’t care either. Fuck the whole goddamn thing.

I guess that’s it since I can’t really think of anything else… currently (WHAT DID I SAY!). Didn’t sleep too well last night but I’m starting to feel like I could pass out again. At least for a little while anyway. Robert’s been snoring up a storm behind me the whole time. Bastard. I really should… pillow… fluff… damn it…

Just once, can’t I be the bad guy?!

Apparently not.

It’s not raining after all.

I’ve been getting some actual good health news as of late. After I saw the optometrist and cardiologist on Friday it was brought to my attention that my body is, in fact, not completely falling apart.

My first appointment was with the optometrist. It was not fun. They dilated me to begin with. I’ve been dilated before and was told the drops might burn but they never did. This time they did. Boy did they. After that they did a quick check on my vision. I’m 25/30 apparently but it was hard to read the chart because my vision was kind of cloudy. I’ve never experienced that before when being dilated but whatever. Then they injected me with dye. I literally didn’t feel the needle. First time ever. Following that, they took a few sets of pictures of my eyes. Then I talked with the optometrist.

First things first, the damage in my left eye? It’s a sort of birth defect. It’s called Torpedo Maculopathy and it’s not dangerous. It just sort of is. But it is rather rare. He said he sees about one patient a year with it. I guess he got his 2019 case out of the way early. Second thing was my Diabetic Retinopathy. He reiterated what my other optometrist stated, called it moderate or something like that. Basically I have damage but it’s not that bad… yet. He told me that if I keep my A1C at or bellow 6.5 it shouldn’t get any worse. My last A1C was 6.4 so I’m already doing good in that regard.

Next appointment was with the cardiologist. Whew! This one was effort, especially considering that I had already been to the optometrist earlier that morning and hadn’t slept well the night before. They did all kinds of stuff to me. First up was an ultrasound of my heart. I got to listen to and watch my heart beat. It was surreal watching the actual valves opening and closing. The technician was a bit dumbfounded at first as she couldn’t find my heart because it was several inches above where it should have been. I told her that my liver was way up high inside my torso as well and that when I had had an ultrasound years before it had taken them a while to find it too. She told me that my organ arrangement was like someone much younger. Apparently as you age your organs slowly drop inside your body but that had not happened with me. I’m not surprised. My body does very strange things. I didn’t ask how much younger though. Things were weird enough as it was.

Then it was on to another dye test. It was some kind of nuclear material, and when they say nuclear they mean nuclear. The vial they brought over to me was in a very large, it looked like iron, tube. So they injected me with whatever it was and then we waited a bit before I went on the most boring amusement ride of my life. It was this large machine that I was sat in that slowly turned over several minutes. It was interesting that it actually had me suspended while it was working but that was it. I joked to the nurse about it not being worth three tickets. I don’t think she got it.

Next was the actual stress test. It was another injection that they gave me all sorts of warnings about. That my chest might hurt and I might feel out of breath or dizzy or other things. The woman before me seemed to have a lot of trouble with it. I mostly just got a headache from it. I mean, I felt it working for damn sure but my worst reaction to it was a headache. It also tasted absolutely terrible. And that was really strange. They injected it into me but I could taste it nearly instantly. A few minutes into the test they gave me a diet coke and then it was back onto the ride again for another set of pictures or whatever the damn thing was doing.

After all that I finally saw the cardiologist. My heart was absolutely fine. No sign of any issues or blockage or anything. He said my squeeze was great but my release was a little weak. It’s easy to fix though. How? Exercise! Of course that would require me to get out of this damn boot.

As a strange aside the people at the optometrist told me that the dye they used in order to take pictures of my eyes might cause some temporary issues. My skin might turn yellow and my urine might be dark or discolored for a few days. Well, I don’t think I turned yellow, though Robert said I did after I told him that it might be a side effect, but my urine did change color. It became a very bright, basically day glow, yellow. It was strange. Had a bit of a bluish-green background, like a highlighter, to it as well. It didn’t last for long and was much weaker the second time I urinated but wow was it strange.

So that’s where I seem to be today, after a weekend of doing absolutely nothing. Other than my moderate Diabetic Retinopathy and my broken foot I’m not in bad shape at all. I mean, I’m still type 2 diabetic and need to lose a good bit of weight but I’m doing better than I would have thought. It’s good to know that some things can actually go right once in a while.

I’ve been booted.

Oh the horror!

Oh the shame!

The thing is huge and unwieldy. Weighs a ton too. All these foam pads and Velcro straps. Robert called it my Darth Vader boot, because it’s black. I called it a totally annoying piece of bullshit, because it is. I pretty much have to keep my leg right below my body in order to walk in it. I nearly fell in the office when I first tried to stand up! And I’m supposed to wear this thing as much as possible? It’s got an air pump and bladder system like those fancy sporting shoes do though, so that’s fun to play with. It’s even got this huge release valve to let the air out with. It feels something like slowly crushing your foot with balloons and then deflating them. Definitely holds your foot still though.

I wore it ’till 2 am then took it off. Super uncomfortable to sleep in and it was actually hurting my foot, but that may have been purposeful. I dunno if it’s supposed to be hurting because it’s holding my foot in a more specific position or not. I need to message my podiatrist about that. See what she says about it.

I think the women at the front desk may have been flirting with me? I’m really not good at reading that sort of thing, like at all, but when they started complimenting my shirt I knew something was up. One of them said the blue really suited me and that sort of sent me into an episode. Mildly though, I might add. I’m pretty sure I started blushing like crazy and acting like a little kid. Then the other chimed in and agreed. I told them I usually try to dress to blend in with the background and they told me I was obviously failing today then.

Compliments and me tend not to mix well. I felt rather uncomfortable and embarrassed but also somewhat flattered. It was a weird situation all around and not something that I encounter often. They were still doing it when I was on my way out. Not that I have any interest in women to begin with but it did make me feel a bit better. Especially with my new Franken-boot.

Dentist later today. I have a cleaning in the afternoon. Then tomorrow morning I’m seeing a specialist optometrist about my left eye and then around noon I’m going in to see the cardiologist. They’re going to be doing a stress test on my heart. I’m pretty sure I’m just going to be doing the liquid test rather than the treadmill one. I mean, Vader boot and all, what else are they going to do? I’m going to be happy when it’s the weekend and I won’t have anything to do for a few days. I don’t usually have more than one day in a row when I do anything. Three days in a row with an early morning doctors appointment? Phew! How sad is that folks? How sad is that?

How can it only be January 3rd? It feels like I’ve already been running around like crazy. Crazy for me that is. Is that a good thing? Is that a bad thing? I guess I’ve been feeling stressed out, especially about all of my doctors appointments and most assuredly about my foot. That seems to be under control though now I need to worry about my weight more, since I can’t really even walk, and how the hell am I supposed to get any exercise? Another month stuck on my ass. And against my will this time, I might add. I’m going to have to schedule more rides.

I need to start getting ready for my next appointment. It’s not for several hours yet but I need a good 2 hours to get ready, then they’re going to pick me up about an hour before hand, and then… no, that’s it. It really does take me a while to get ready though. I don’t primp and preen, it just takes me a bit. I hate rushing when I’m getting ready. It actually makes me uncomfortable and I need a bit to calm down and center myself. I’m an absolute nightmare when it comes to last minute situations. If I’m not already ready for some other reason, it ain’t gonna happen. Not within the time frame you may want it to happen, anyway.

Okay! Enough delaying! Get up and start getting ready! Get up! Go on! Times a wastin’! Just get on up and start pulling yourself together! Go get in that shower you wanted to take! Brush those teeth! Get those clothes on and that… that boot! Go on! Get up!


I could take a nap and come up with a halfway believable excuse? I can always pull the broken foot card. I’m sure that one will be good for quite a while.

Oh I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’ll think about it for a while while I lay here in my warm and comfy bed rather than getting up and getting ready and…

Am I the only one not buying this or is no one else either?

Morning All!

It’s January 1st, 2019 at 8:17 am. I woke up at about 7:30 am and I’m feeling good so far. Took my morning meds and did a quick rounds of all my internet sites (excluding any news sites) and I’m ready to see where today takes me.

Found out that Excel had a nice pre-built spreadsheet for monthly finances with a pretty graph and all kinds of numbers and averages. It looks neat and it’s really easy to work with. I might see if I can add another page so I can insert individual transactions as it only accepts totals right now and I’d rather be able to have a listing of each individual transaction for clarity’s sake. Other than that quibble, it’s prefect. Simple and to the point. Just what I needed. We’re already freaking out over our fast food numbers. Did I call it or did call it? I should freelance as a psychic.

My podiatrist finally got in touch with me yesterday. She was actually out of the office until Monday but she sounded rather worried and told me to absolutely stay off of it as much as possible. She specifically told me that she was going to double book an appointment for me tomorrow, Wednesday, at their other office because she needed to see me as soon as possible. She told me the break I have tends to be really slow and difficult to heal and the best way to deal with it is to immobilize it. So she’s going to fit me with a “boot”. Hopefully I’ll actually be able to do things again after that. If I can at least go to the YMCA and use the weight machines I’d be happy.

I will say that something feels off though. I don’t have a headache, I’ve actually started getting things done, my doctor is rushing to help me out, and… Just what the hell is going on here? Life is actually being nice for once? Am I dying or something? That must be it. I’m dying. Or, or I’m going to get hit by a bus or run over by a train or wild pop musicians are going to rip me limb from limb. Something terrible is coming. I can feel it. Because it always does.

But for now I’ll go with the “everything is cool” facade. I’m going to lure life into a false sense of security and then… I dunno. Robert wants me to bake a cake for our friend, Wayne’s birthday that’s coming up. I’ll probably just do that.

Enjoy the New Year all… While it lets you.


It’s Monday?

Up all night last night. Robert begged me to stay up with him because he couldn’t sleep. He eventually went down around 3 am. It’s currently 7:30 and I’m still awake. I think I’m going to try to stay up the rest of the day and hopefully crash some time this evening. I need to put my foot down with Robert and get my sleeping back in order. What better time than tonight? The last night of the year leading into 2019. That can be a resolution for me, to get my sleeping back on track so I can function during the day. It’s not fun when the twitching hits me from lack of sleep. Not fun at all. Robert is literally snoring behind me. One of these days I’m going to take a pillow and… fluff it up for him. *Sigh*… I need to learn to be more ruthless.

New Years Eve it is. What are my plans? The same as they are every other day. I was supposed to see the chiropractor today but with my foot I had to call off as I would have had to have taken an Uber or Lift and we really can’t afford that right now. I was planning to walk, until I discovered the break. By then it was too late to schedule a ride through my insurance as they require five business days in advance. I would have only been able to give them three. All of my other appointments are set up though, right through the 16th I believe. I’ll call and schedule more soon. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm the poor woman who ended up helping me.

Monday is usually the beginning of the work week for most people. For me, it’s simply another day. In fact, it tends to feel more like an extension of the weekend. Around these parts a lot of places aren’t open on Monday for some reason. Instead, they tend to be open on Saturday and then close on Sunday and Monday. Why? I have no idea. All the libraries around here are closed on Monday as are many small shops. There’s a bee store and an antique shop a few blocks away that are also closed on Monday. It’s definitely not a universal situation but it’s often enough to draw interest in the peculiarity of it. I really should look into why that is. Not today though. Maybe tomorrow when the new year starts, along with the new me.

I’m trying to decide if I want to wait until after my birthday to renew my ID. I mean, it’s already been like two and a half years since I lost my last one. With my birthday being in less than a month and the number of years it remaining valid being based on your birth date and not when you renew it, waiting until after my birthday would give me an extra year before I’d have to renew it again. I think that’s just an excuse to put it off for a few more weeks but it’s an excuse that at least makes some sense. Not much, but some.

My body feels like it’s vibrating. That’s one of the symptoms I get from lack of sleep. I get twitchy and I feel like I’m vibrating inside. It’s a weird feeling, and it’s all throughout my body. I can especially feel it whenever I close my eyes. There’s this feeling of pressure forcing them out against my eyelids as they vibrate wildly. Any kind of loud noise tends to make me jump or shudder as well. If I’m going to actually stay up today, it’s going to be a long, hard trial. And I’m going to have to deal with Robert as well.

I emailed a friend of mine today for the first time in months. That reminds me, I have another friend I need to email as well. I think it’s been more than a year since I emailed him. I’m absolutely terrible at maintaining relationships. I just forget about people unless they’re in the forefront of my mind, such as I’m doing something for them (like computer work) or they’re coming over and inserting themselves into my life. I don’t mean to lose track of them, it just sort of happens. Days blend together and become weeks then months then years. Honestly, I really don’t see it happening until it already has. If that sounds selfish and self-absorbed then guilty as charged. It doesn’t seem to be anything I can help though as it just happens. What I need to do is figure out how to keep it from just happening, whatever that means.

We’re going to start keeping receipts as well. We’re always broke and never seem to know where our money goes. I’m going to look for some money management software and, failing that, I’ll build a spreadsheet and deal with it by hand. I still remember some of how to do that from a class I took in high school. Shouldn’t be too hard to brush up on the basics and then go from there. Money is a huge issue with both of us and we really need to get our spending under control. A month of keeping track of our fast food receipts alone will probably give us a heart attack.

It’s cold this morning. I’m cold. Another symptom of my lack of sleep. So we have twitching, sensitivity to sound, vibrating, sensitivity to cold, and I’m also starting to feel a stress headache coming on. Wow is today going to be hard. I just talked to Robert about setting a curfew, as in at 10 pm all electronics go off and both of us get in bed. He reacted less than favorably to the idea. Actually, he sounded rather angry at the mere mention of it. It’s going to be hard getting myself to do this at all but if Robert is going to be actively fighting me on it I’m not sure what I’m going to do.

I should eat something and take my morning meds. It’s a little after 8 and that’s when I want to start waking up. Might as well start acting today like I’m on my new schedule. It’ll make it easier tomorrow when it (hopefully) really begins. But first I have to sort my meds, as I didn’t do that yesterday, the smarty smart that I am.

This already has disaster written all over it and it’s not even New Years until tomorrow. Oh well, that’s not much different from my life every other day of the year.

It’s Sunday!

You know, I realized I make my life sound absolutely terrible when the reality is, it isn’t. spend much of my time doing nothing. I wander the internet reading. I rarely engage as, and I know I’ve said this before, it’s simply not safe unless you’re willing to compromise your integrity and say what everyone else wants you to say. I’m not going on another internet tirade, though I easily could, just stating a fact.

Here’s how a usual day for me goes:

Of course we all start by waking up. For me, that depends on how late I was up the night before. Often, Robert will insist that I stay up with him for company. He sleeps really irregular hours and I get dragged into that more often than I’d prefer. So by morning I’m either waking up, or just getting to bed. We’ll pretend that I’m waking up, as that’s what’s happening today.

I wake up and then… Well, usually I spend several hours on the internet doing next to nothing. Read a few sites I follow, do some searches, feel betrayed by myself and the world when I inevitably see other people with actual lives actually doing things. And I’m in bed the whole time still. The bedroom is our main social area. We have a living room but don’t really have anything in it. A coffee table with a record player and our fake Christmas tree we bought at Walmart on it and a broken futon comprise the furnishings.

After waking up and playing on the internet for hours, Robert then wakes up. This will usually be around noon or even as late as 3 or 4 in the afternoon depending on when we went to bed the previous night. This is when we’ll talk about getting something to eat. I’m trying to break myself of eating late at night but it’s really hard and Robert keeps snacks by his bed so I’ll often hear him snacking away in the middle of the night when we’re both supposed to be sleeping. Now then, we’ll talk about food but may or may not actually eat anything. Either way, the TV goes on at this point and much garbage is watched.

Chores are then decided upon for the day. These may consist of dishes, vacuuming, sometimes laundry, sweeping, mopping, the usual. I despise dishes so Robert usually does those. Laundry is my chore. I vacuum most days, as Robert gets really O.C.D. if I don’t. He sweeps outside and we take turns sweeping and mopping inside. I do all of the food preparation but getting Robert to help clean up afterwards is like pulling teeth.

Whether we eat or not, much garbage TV is watched from Netflix to our cable DVR to, ahem, downloaded videos. We spend most of the time more talking over the shows than actually watching them. Rewind is a godsend, especially when one of us is talking and we miss something important or especially funny. We’ve been watching Soap recently. It’s an amazingly hilarious show from the late 70s/early 80s. We both agree it’s the Drawn Together of its time. Saw a huge amount of protests and backlash as well. People are so dumb and never learn.

More TV, lots of chatting, food is gotten at some point, Robert continually asks me to do simple things that he could easily do for himself, I whine then usually do them anyway. After we eat a nap is often taken. This would be around 2 or 3 in the afternoon on a day when we wake up around 10 or 11 in the morning. We lay down. Robert sleeps. I play online. I finally start to get sleepy and Robert wakes up ready to watch more trash TV. I get up annoyed that I didn’t get to sleep myself, but relent and watch crap with him.

Leading into the early evening there is talk about showers or brushing teeth. Sometimes they happen. Sometimes not. Sometimes I shower in the morning instead. Either way it’s discussed but no definites are decided upon. Then one or both of us decide to do something and that will often interfere with whatever the other wants to do. I want to take a shower, Robert decides he wants to brush his teeth or use the bathroom for some other purpose. That kind of thing.

This is also when we’re deciding if we’re going to eat again, or at all if we haven’t eaten yet. Sometimes we will have come up with an idea for something earlier or the day before, but that often will get thrown out for something easier or quicker. Usually Robert will decide he doesn’t want to have to deal with a lot of dishes so will tell me to throw something in the oven or run around the corner to Taco Bell, even though he knows it gives me terrible gas.

Then we eat, or eat several hours later. Anywhere between 5 and midnight. Sometimes even later. More trash TV is watched. More complaining about chores is done. More begging me to do simple things occurs as well, which I eventually capitulate to if only to get him to shut up. And of course sleep is often completely ignored until one of us actually feels like doing it. Then the negotiations begin.

If it’s Robert ready to sleep I just roll over and get on my laptop until I can fall asleep as well. If it’s me ready to sleep… Since Robert sleeps very odd hours and can actually operate on as little as two hours a night, it becomes an issue for me. I need several hours, eight or nine in a straight line, in order to feel awake. Robert, not liking that, will complain and beg. He really gets lonely even if it’s only to keep me up on my computer while we’re doing completely different things. He always wants me to stay up with him. Sometimes I get to sleep when I want. Often I’m up half or the whole night with him. Snacks will be consumed during this time as well.

Then we go to sleep (or not) and the cycle begins anew.

More recent breaks involve doctor’s appointments and Robert’s group that he attends every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in the afternoon. I’m usually at home getting things done that I can’t while he’s around. You know, “things”. They shall not be named in specifics.

I suppose you could call this a “charmed life” as I have little want and little worries outside of bills and rent and, you know, not dying. Either way, I’m simply not happy. I’m not happy with it and I’m not happy with myself. Especially now with my foot keeping me down. I’m supposed to be going to the YMCA while Robert is at group. Instead, I’m still stuck at home, but this time not by choice. And I still haven’t heard anything from either of my doctors of what they think I should do.

I think I’m going to roll over and try to get some more sleep before Robert wakes up. Gotta remember to sort my meds for the week when I get up as well.

I hate my life.

And myself.

And my life.

Did I mention myself?


I am regret incarnate. I am regret given purpose. Given need. Desire. I regret so much. Do I regret existence?

When I was six maybe, one of our cats had kittens. I don’t know why our mother let us but she let us each pick one and play with them. We were far too young to be doing this and they were far too small to be handled. I remember me and my brother were playing a game with them sliding them down inside a blanket. My brother said something about his being better than mine. I grabbed his kitten and threw it against a table leg. It cried and cried. The sound of it still haunts me to this day. I could never purposefully hurt another animal again.

Sometime during third grade I believe, me and my brother were out playing with some other boys. I didn’t have any friends my own age so we were always playing with his friends who were a good two years younger than me. I don’t recall what exactly led to it but one of the boys picked up a rock and threw it at my brother. It struck him on the side of his head near his temple. My brother went straight down like a marionette with its strings unexpectedly cut. I went into uncontrollable rage mode. I ran across the street toward the boy who had hurt my brother and simply wailed on him. I probably punched him a good few dozen times screaming all the while. Then I ran to a car, threw myself against the hood, and sobbed.

In sixth grade I stepped on a kitten. Another one of our cats had had a litter. We always had some kind of animal around the house when we were kids. At least a cat if nothing more. So our cat at this time had gotten pregnant and had a litter. They were all up on the top bed of me and my brother’s bunk bed. I went in to check on them and realized that one was missing. While looking for it on the ground I stepped back and immediately felt it under my foot. It mewed and mewed. Wouldn’t stop. I quickly picked it up and put it back with the others, making sure it had a nipple, then left the room in such shame. I came back a few hours later to find it dead, it’s bowels released on the bed where I had laid it. It still makes me want to cry just thinking about it.

Junior high and high school were pretty much nothing but regret for me. I regret going at all. I regret not being able to confide in anyone what I was going through. I regret having friends, the few that I did. I regret not having friends. I regret letting people down. I regret that my one high school English teacher actually believed in me. I regret that I never stood up to the kids at school that tormented me, to the one school counselor that screwed up my classes over and over again, to my family that treated me like dirt and a slave and little more than a welfare check.

Worst of all, I regret not standing up to myself. I could have been someone, been something, instead of the useless, pointless lump of sad that I am today. I could have graduated college, I could have gotten a job, had friends, had a real life.

Work. I did work, twice. The first time I was very young and it was a stupid security job at a strip mall after I had failed out of college. The second time…

I was going to a program deigned to help people like me (crazy folk) find and keep jobs. One of the first things they do is test you to see what you would be best suited for. My results were off the chart on everything. It wasn’t a difficult series of tests. I think it was designed for lower functioning individuals as it consisted of things like completing lines and finding word matches in groups in a set period of time. Things you would do in elementary school. My scores being so high, they had no idea what to do with me. So they offered me a job.

This company was contracted with the state and actually had two positions that they specifically kept open for clients. They decided to offer me one of those positions and I took it. This was in my mid twenties and I wanted to work. I really, really did. We filled out all the paperwork, got me all set up. I went to a consignment store and picked up a couple nice outfits that I could wear to the office. Shirts and shorts weren’t going to cut it here. This job was supposed to be a stepping stone. I was supposed to work here for a year and a half gaining enough experience to move on to a permanent office position somewhere else. I was so excited.

I didn’t show up the first day.

I tried. I tried so hard. I got up, got dressed, got all of my things together. Got on the train and road down to the office. Got off the train and walked the few blocks remaining. Got in front of the office and then… I just couldn’t go in. I paced on the sidewalk out front. I’m sure someone could see me from inside but no one actually came out. I paced and stood, sweating and absolutely terrified. After what seemed like an eternity I simply turned and went back home. I didn’t call out or anything. How could I? What excuse could I give? I got there but was too afraid to go inside? The scary little office building chased me away?

After a few days of anguish and self-hated I eventually did show up. But that first day. That day when I was right there. Right at the front door but simply couldn’t bring myself to open it and walk inside. That really sticks with me. The regret. Knowing how things could have been instead of what they are.

I regret this fear that has controlled me all of my life. How it’s tormented me. How I let it torment me. There’s simply no other way to say it no matter what anyone else thinks or says:

I regret me.