If I’m the Seated Woman with the Parasol

I’ll be safe in my frame? 

My life has sent me to such unexpected places lately.  I have had the chance to experience ‘friendly’ betrayal for the first time in years.  I dealt with it by being firm and direct, which resulted in a streamline of freakishness.  People are so confusing. 

For example, if they don’t want you to know something about yourself, they tell it to someone you are friends with and bet on the fact that they are the closer friend.  This is so confusing.  What am I supposed to do?  I decided to tell the person I felt sad that they had to be so dishonest.  This is weird.

I’m using this more as a journal than formal writing, so it’s going to be very fluid.  Just bear with me.  I can’t believe I have so much served up to me.  This plate of disappointment is so thick I can’t put enough salt or sugar on it.

Here I’ve been informed that I have Interstitial Cystitis.  And Asperger’s Syndrome.  Now they are testing me for Fybromyalgia and Rheumatoid Arthritis.  I feel like major shit.  This is going to exasperate all the symptoms of everything listed above.  How do I get my emotions to function numbly like the people I see on TV?

I’m so mad I can’t sleep.  I’ve had a full body rash for two days.  I’m so mad.  I’m so mad.  I’m so mad.

I want to have answers now.  I want to know how to fix or treat things now.  Waiting for appointments makes me suicidal.  My focus is so singular, for one of the first times in years, and I feel invisible.  I actually had a lady bump my shopping cart at the grocery.  How rude!  Am I that unimportant?

This blog (gag the word makes me sick) is my venting place.  I have another blog that is more surface, in case anyone feels weird about reading this.

I’m out of words.  I’m never out of words.  My outlook is so bleak.  I have to have someone to tell me that the world isn’t going to shit and that capitalism won’t overtake us all and that my husband will have a job in two years.  I want a guarentee that I will have health insurance that I can afford.  I want to be able to pay my mortgage.  What happened to people?  When did the meeting happen that everyone decided to fend for themselves only?  Am I the only one who worries about my neighbor?

I need to move.  I need to start fresh.  I need a fucking patient advocate.

P.S.

Anyone who loves me that reads this, please know that I am truly just venting.  I don’t want to be fixed, nor do I need financial help.  I’m just pissed.  Really pissed. 

Thanks for reading.

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~ by blanketgirl on July 10, 2008.

One Response to “If I’m the Seated Woman with the Parasol”

  1. Amen.

    World is fucked up.

    Rant away.

    Love you.

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