Friday, April 8, 2011

Day 55: Confessions for Progress.

April 8th, 2011

I'm torn into so many pieces.

HAH! As if that is a shocker coming from someone with BPD, someone that has trouble with dialectic thinking. Someone that at least.... has started in the one year program to change my life.


Living at this apartment has had its own set of challenges. I have had to adjust to really being by myself for periods of time again. I don't like it. I tend to feel confined and trapped when I can't at least sense other people around. I haven't made any friends here, and I honestly don't expect to. To be honest, I don't even have the desire to make friends most of the time.

But then, I am also thankful and happy for the friends who know, understand, and accept me for who I am, who I have been, and who I will become. Again with distinctions of separation. Before, Present, Future. 

I keep looking for how I view the world, and I put everything into a distinction. A filing system. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. And even though 1 and 2 are different, 1 and 2 can equal 3, and 3 is always three. Every piece while distinct, is still true of itself. But there are still fractions and decimals, and while 1.2 or 2.1 are neither 1 or 2, they are still true pieces of 1 and 2.

The trick is to reconcile that truth and not fight it. I don't know how to do that yet. I think I've obviously overthought the entire issue. I have no idea if it's even possible to follow with what just verbally spewed through this dark keyboard, but it wasn't meant for anyone but me.

Normally I erase when I write insights to myself. It's hard, wanting to be completely open, but feeling the strong need for censure. Not just for me, but for other people's sakes.

I so badly want to integrate the pieces of me into one reconciled being.


This week has proven to be full of developments.


I'm fairly certain I have written previously about the assessment, and pre-treatment assessment that I went through for the study on Dialectal Behavioral Therapy for women with Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD who self-harm or have suicidal ideation. That is a mouthful, but I land in the category. What a double edged sword. I absolutely detest that I can say that I land in that category, but then glad also that I do, because I actually feel as though I have a chance to get the true help that I avidly desire.

On the plus side, I got $20 for spending hours upon hours devastatingly disecting some of the most traumatic events that have ever happened to my life and the effects of them on my actions.

Bought myself Fast Food. Yes Buddy. Nothing like the taste of greasy and unhealthy food to get the emotional juices flowing! Of course, in addition I also was accepted into the year long program, and subsequently introduced to I'm hoping the best therapist I could have asked for.

At our first meeting (only last wednesday) I made a series of profound promises. Profound for me.

1. I would buy popsicles. Lots of popsicles, whos purpose is to focus attention in times of frustration when I would normally start self-harming. Most people don't know I do that- usually because I do it in ways that most people don't think of. The most visualized form of self harm is cutting. I don't do that. Not since I was 17. It's hard to admit it's been 10 years. But most people know that I pick at scabs. What they don't know is that most of the times, the wounds I'm scabbing from I created myself.

2. I would no longer self-harm. I have no idea how I am going to be able to not do this for a year. It's almost second nature, and have had to already stop myself a multitude of times realizing what I was about to or in the process of doing. The popsicles have helped a lot. Reading books has helped a LOT. Anything really that keeps me from being emotionally charged in a negative level.

3. For the next year, absolutely no attempts at suicide. I found this both hard and easy to promise to. I do not generally want to die. Both times I have made an aggressive attempt at ending my life were under fairly extreme circumstances of extreme inner turmoil. I have never made a "look at me I'm hurting." type of suicide attempt, I have only attempted suicide with the motive to die. I have made one other passive suicide attempt-- stopping my medications. While I know I would not just keel over from stopping them, I also know the weakness of my immune system and my body, as witnessed by immediately getting an intense case of shingles, which spread into meningitis- and coming down with a respiratory infection after that. But I don't know the future, and I feel hesitant to make that promise. Maybe I just wanted to reserve the right to say whether my life is worth living or not- Either way I did promise to not kill myself, so I WILL live to be 28.

4. I promised to go back on my slough of medications. There is part of me that has been badgered by many people that my decision to relinquish the medical system I have been entrenched in for the almost last 5 years is not only bad, but completely irresponsible and bordering on reprehensible. For quite a few people it is unconscionable that I should refuse the western medical system when it "has worked so well for me." And while I do not deny that I am better off alive than dead (at least 7 out of 10 times I'd say), I am also left with the quality of life and movement that makes it hard to appreciate being alive. I want to, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have continued to seek out the program. At the same time it is difficult to say anything I feel with a 100% clarity of conviction in any specific direction.

5. I would buy ice, and a bowl, and when I am overwhelmed, to literally dunk my face in ice water. I have done this at least twice already since wednesday, and the effect, I'm sure, has been the desired one because the overwhelming emotion disappears in a matter of moments, replaced by an extremely cold face, and a wet hairline. It is hard, to force yourself to put your face in a bowl of ice water. I think that lends in part to its effectiveness. You have to focus on a number of different things and none of them are glaring raw emotion.  Before my mom left today, I put a bowl of icewater next to my bed, because if it isn't in front of me, the chances of me thinking about it in the throes of emotional upheavel are like my dog suddenly sprouting elephant ears and performing circus acts. Such was the case last night, my mom thankfully coming to my aid and bringing up the ice bowl while I was lingering on an extreme emotional cusp.


I know I am going to be a sloppy mess for awhile. Even today mom and I had an argument, when just last night I surprised her with an 'unbirthday' since I had been in too much pain to do anything but stay in bed. I had run out of every last bit of my pain meds, and no matter how much I had twisted it out from the beginning of February this last week, the taper was still too fast after having been on them for far too long. Not to mention I am just flat in pain. Those two elements do not lend for a very mobile or happy Maria. No, not a happy Maria indeed.

Last night was worse than many- today I even got ahold of my therapist for some extra coaching I guess it's called. It helped at the time to know she is there for me. She responded quickly to my text. I wonder if she knows part of the reason I texted her was just to see if she is real- I mean, if she really does mean to stick with me for the year.... I'm so afraid to trust her, but she made it so easy. I see her again next Wednesday, and I have no idea how that is going to go. I'm not ready to write about last night quite yet.

I have a million feelings brewing about the topic, but... in the meantime...


I bought a NookColor from Barnes and Noble. I absolutely ADORE that I can listen to Pandora while I read. I have spent a vast majority of today reading and listening to classical piano. Ok. I am done writing. I want to keep reading about how the handsome king squares off with the evil-doers and then makes sweet sweet looooooove to his new queen. HA. Romances. *chuckle*

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Day 42: The Power of Keys

March 26th, 2011


We signed the lease today. *teehee*

And subsequently spent the rest of the day and evening packing our abundant amounts of shit up. In the same amount of time my mom packed and tore down the living room, dining, room, and kitchen- I got half of my room done. Pathetic. I have lots of excuses, mostly concerning my hip, shakiness, not being able to breath, etc. etc. etc, but they are all boring.

Mom ordered pizza and we took a break talking outside while she had a cigarrette.

That is, until Connie and Mark showed up on their way to Blaine with their oldest grandson in tow. I think he's like 6 or 7. Cute as a button, and sweeter than sugar. After they left I think mom and I spent another hour and a half talking before we were both exhausted on the topic, and I don't think that has stopped either of our minds on it, just got us sick and tired of voicing our theories on the topic.

We go back and forth on whether there is deliberate action, or whether it is merely coincidental inconsiderate idiocy. We both agree that apologies need to be made. Either way, I'm sick and tired of the specifics and am not going to write an entire blog about it.


Holy crap! Dancing with the Stars! Generally speaking I really can't stand most of the talent shows. I don't care whether it's American Idol, America's Best Dance Crew, America's Got Talent, Dancing With The Stars, or any other caller based voting reality show. But how good was Kirstie Alley? I mean Really! I was pleased by her performance and it was easily one of the best of the entire night. I mean who doesn't like a good butt slapping and boob lifting in the middle of a Cha-Cha? *chuckle* She did us big girls proud. I might actually watch this season, what with Chris Jericho on it as well. It's amazing how short he is in real life. Shorter than I am, although I find most people I come across to be so. Without the Y2J girly hair he is even dare-I-say handsome. Ok, I dare to say it. He's HANDSOME!! But not as handsome as my husband of course... *wink*

On a whole I can't even stand Kirstie Alley. Perhaps I should rephrase. I can not stand Kirstie Alley when she opens her mouth. Thankfully when she is dancing she isn't talking, and when she finishes she is too tired to talk. Her dancing, however, I enjoyed. So good for her!


Geraldine Ferraro lost her battle with blood cancer today. Sucks. Hits home anytime I hear that someone died from blood cancer. Hits home hard. It's not lost on me how lucky I am to be alive.

My luck to be alive, however, does not mean I should let the world walk all over me and be happy about it. It just means that I know more than many folks what it means to truly and honestly be thankful for my life, which makes wanting to end it so devastating and guilt causing.



I've been getting to chat with my husband almost daily for the last several days. I am sure fellow military spouses and significant others can appreciate with me how great it is to be able to share some words when they are overseas. Many more spouses and significant others can appreciate what it's like to miss that person you love- especially when they are potentially in harms way. There is a constant grating on the nerves of worry that you won't ever hear from them again, or that someone will show up on your door with an "I'm sorry ma'am." Just thinking about the reality of the fear is enough to almost put me in tears. Then again I'm incredibly emotional. Up, down, in, out, I'm not sure whether I'm original or crispy recipe right now.


I AM READY TO MOVE TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

These keys were made for unlocking! And my new apartment is just WAITING to be unlocked tomorrow! Besides unpacking, I will have retail therapy to do tomorrow! And while I never really got a good feeling from shopping before, I do admit I enjoy a little economic support session now and then. Now the real question is whether mom will go half and half with me on a big screen t.v. for the living room? Hrm? HRM?

Or perhaps it would be beneficial to buy myself a workdesk? HRM? Who knows. All that is to be figured out tomorrow.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Day 41: More Pillows

March 25th, 2011

Fizzle is trying to suffocate me I swear. Any time I am about to talk, or type, she comes up and lays down on my chest, which is getting phlegmy. I am not a fan of having a hard time breathing or coughing up phlegm.

I fell asleep chatting with my husband, and woke up to drag queen's saluting the troops on t.v. I was extremely confused until I realized it was RuPaul's Drag Race. For those who haven't seen it- it amuses me. Greatly. Especially after yesterday and last nights marathon of The Real Housewives of New York.

I beaded my little heart out yesterday and today I just need a break. I guess. My best friend Tana taught me about beading on felt, and yesterday I was seriously struck with inspiration. I beaded until almost 4 a.m. I know my mom woke me up to take my meds at 6 a.m. but I have no recollection of it. There is a LOT I am finding that I'm not remembering lately and it is starting to scare me. I am glad that I was accepted into the psych study. I want to be emotionally and physically healthy for my husband- but if I can't be physically healthy, I at LEAST want to be able to deal with the stressful situations that will come up instead of reaching into darkness.

I have been completely out of it since Wednesday and the in-person interview. Today mom and I went to the bank to get money together for our new apartment we are moving into this weekend. I have no recollection whatsoever of handing her the bank card. None. At the gas tank I felt like I was watching myself. I am going completely crazy. CRAZY.


I almost have to change the channel this episode. Almost. I can only stand so many puns on being a transvestite and the name RuPaul before I want to pull my hair out. Condragulations, I already want to rip the skin off my shoulder to make it stop twinging, and now I want to rip out my hair. And honey, I've been growing this hair for almost three years.


Like I said to the interviewer on Wednesday when she asked, "Sometimes I feel like fighting leukemia and the left over effects has always been my life, and sometimes I feel none of it ever happened."

I've been able to walk lately- It's taken all the way until today to feel like I am nearing alright again after mom and I went out geocaching last, Yesterday I barely had to take any pain killers, and today as well. Really just when I'm being really active. Of course that's the way it started, pain with every step and just escalated from there-- but the fact it's getting back to that (at least close to that) really makes me feel like progress is being made in that area. I know the gabapentin is more to thank than the physical therapy exercises I do. I am usually in so much pain after I do those stupid exercises. Fuck them, I'm not doing them today.


Brain is still bouncing around. Feeling withdrawal effects. My hip is just... fucking rawr. I guess I should mention I write these entries either really fast, or over a matter of many many hours. This one is taking quite a few hours for me to write. I can't seem to focus on one specific thing. I can't even pick up the beading I was doing yesterday. I can't stay focused on the t.v. I can't focus on the blog, I'm feeling static in my head.

It's not the same ol' brainfog like after treatment, this feels like static. FRUSTRATION.


Besides the frustration how happy am I to be moving? SUPER HAPPY! It's not the original place we had worked with obviously-- that fell through at the beginning of the week, but yesterday mom and I went apartment hunting and found a place we can live with. Really I think she just bent to my will- Mom is horrible about doing that, but I appreciate it all the same. Who doesn't like getting their way? Especially when there are extremely valid arguments for what you want?

The apartment itself is a bit smaller, it is set up differently, but the complex and its amenities are fabulous. Indoor and outdoor pools, sauna, spa, racquetball, full sized basketball court. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. It's all going to be great. Right?



I need more pillows.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Day 39: A Positive Mind

March 23rd, 2011

So much has happened today. So much and not much at the same time. I feel confused. Blurred. Just out of whack.

Today was really hard for me. I've been dreading today, with a kind of morbid fascination of how I would be able to handle it. I had my in-person interview to be part of the study protocol for therapeutic treatment of women who self-harm or attempt suicide with Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD. Unfortunately I qualify with flying colors. In the interview today, over five hours I answered questions about events that have happened in my life and how I have dealt with them.

It's not easy to answer questions about events that have brought so much pain that you don't even want to live anymore. It's hard to explain feeling that way, and not succumb to the depths of the feeling itself. At least it is hard for me.

The altercation with my dad, being raped, going crazy, attempting suicide, getting sick, almost dying without choice, medical uncertainty, betrayals, emotion disregulation- how often, how many times, when, where, what color.... answer these questions, what's the meaning of lugubrious? Hell if I know what it meant, but I could spell it.

That's beyond the point. The point is just that I feel overwhelmed right now. Overwhelmed, and like I don't want anything to do with anyone. I'm bouncing being depressed and suicidal, more depressed than suicidal. And then I feel ashamed. And then guilty, and then unworthy- and then a failure, and back to depressed and suicidal. I still have wine, but I'm not going to try and cure my depression with a depressant. That's just stupid. It was nice yesterday- at least until mom got home and then I just felt angry and annoyed and frusrated again.

It's not her fault that the building changed their mind after a week. So my anger at her is irrational. But I just get SO angry. I feel so... everything above already, and then to be told that I'm not good enough to be even added to a bank account, I'm not good enough to even get a key to a building that they will 'still allow me to be an occupant in'. How do you deal when you already have all of the feelings of worthlessness and of being a failure and then am dealt that blow too?

And I know the answer is 'You just keep going.' And that's what I'm doing. I'm just keeping going.

**pout** But I don't want to. I don't want to deal with ANYTHING. **pout**


Jeremy Morlock was sentenced to jail for murder for the next 24 years of his life for killing an Afghani civillian for sport. Sport. It just... sucks. To hear someone you knew as a kid of being involved in something so heinous is just frightening. Just like hearing about my high school friend Clayton being charged with murdering his daughter- I cannot fathom that he would or could do such a thing. Never intentionally at least- And I wish I could ask him what happened- I wish I could tell everyone that there is no way the Clayton I knew could ever hurt anything, let alone a baby girl. His baby girl. Or my dad's old best friend-- what he did to his wife. I cannot fathom the true atrocities that people do.

Or to hear about my mom's ex-boyfriend stabbing his next girlfriend with a box cutter. I thank God for sparing my mother that pain, and ask Him at the same time why we all have to endure the trials we are faced with.

Being beaten, shot, stabbed, raped, diagnosed with leukemia- How is it decided who should endure what? I am reminded of the saying that God doesn't give you what you can't handle. I disagree. I find he often gives people things they cannot handle. If they could handle it, there would be no murder or suicide. People would not give up all hope. Or those that gave it all up, would be saved. Isn't that also what is said? Give it all to Him, and you will be saved.

Obviously I'm feeling some intense anger towards "The Big Librarian in the Sky."


I am simultaneously angry with Him, and understanding. I know that there are things that I will understand that so many people will not. There are people that I can help just by understanding what they are feeling, or by sharing the many things that I think or feel. I know that somewhere, someone thinks, "Me Too." And in that way, that's how I'm coping.

Not just keeping going. I'm trying to turn my anger into something positive. A negative plus a negative is a positive. A positive added to a positive equals a positive.

If only I could approach everything with a positive mind.


Charlie Sheen kissing Jimmie Kimmel made a black ex-con freak out about being homosexual? Well that's not something I expected to learn tonight. Go figure.

Too bad we can't blame Charlie Sheen's crazy behavior on the nuclear reactor in Japan.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Day 38: Wine and McDonalds

March 22nd, 2011

Our new apartment managers call us a week later after approving us to move in and say that I'm not approved.


You took my $40, said "Yes! You are Approved!" filled out a bunch of paperwork, and everything was fine for a week. And then they changed their mind? After a week? And then I have mom, sitting there like "well I was still approved, so we can still move in, you just can't have a key to get in the building." HUH?

And WHY would I choose to live in a building I can't even enter? No. No. No. No. No.

Get our deposit back, count our losses, and we'll find somewhere else to go.


I am so mad at my mom right now. I am SO MAD AT HER. I am mad that she brought me here, mad that I had to get rid of my animal children, mad that I have nowhere but here to be, and I am about ready to be done with it.

I've got $3k in my pocket. I have a car outside. Fuck all of this. I don't even care about all of the stuff I have here. Pack a bag, load up the animals, and find somewhere warm.

Who am I kidding, there's nowhere for me to go anyway. Noone wants me and my animals so what's the fucking point.


I just got back from QFC and McDonalds. I'm drinking wine and eating french fries. I can't decide whether this is the bomb, or whether it's so sad I want to cuddle under my blanket and sleep.

The McFlurry may have been a bit too much. Yeah. Yeah. I really should have known better than that. I find I make a lot of questionable judgements on impulse. Although to those people around me that is no surprise. It's not even surprising to me, but it still feels weird to admit to myself in black and white.


I've spent the last four hours nibbling on the rest of my McDonald's and drinking the bottle of wine I bought at QFC. Feeling caged. Trapped. A little drunk. I suppose the equivalent of a bottle or more of wine (I bought a BIG bottle) will do that. It's been three months since I've had anything to drink, I guess I forgot. Although as quickly as I feel a little buzzed, it goes away again. I feel like I'm chasing the buzz and that's SO annoying. It's moments like this I would just like a shot glass and some Tequila Rose. BAM. Yes. That would achieve the drunk I have been looking for. Of course I'm also afraid to drink, hence the reason I've been eating the whole time and not actually getting the drunk feeling.


I must be an obnoxiously bad person. Because as soon as something good happens, something bad happens just as quick.


I should take my own advice and look at the positives in my life.

1. I'm alive. I'm constantly in unbelievable amounts of pain (literally, most people don't believe me), sick, and likely looking at killing myself by not taking 95% of my medications, but hey, I'm alive right now, and apparently that's all that counts in this category.

2. I'm loved. By my husband who is thousands of miles away in a foreign country doing his duty for our country, however backwards our country is at times. We have freedom, but that freedom isn't free. By my mother who will do anything for my well-being, even if it means she gets minimal sleep or is broke as a joke. By my Kai-Guy, Fizz-Kitty, and Qari-Bug who never let me down and always are willing to cuddle with me when I'm having a bad day, especially if food is involved. By my best friends; DeeDee, Tana, & Halee in particular, who have been there for me through thick, thin, and all the in-between, and have unflinchingly given of their time when I was in need of them. By my father, who loves me, even if he's about as great at showing it as I am at calling the people I care about. By my brother. By other people who think they love me, but really don't know what loving someone like family (by my definition) means.

3. I'm cared about. By the people who love me, the people who think they love me, and by people who hate me who care enough about me to attempt to stalk me.

4. I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and clothes on my back.

5. I have miscellaneous creature comforts. A netbook, cable, a wii, a dsi, art supplies, an almost empty wine bottle, etc.

6. I... uhhh... fuck it.

MMmmm McNuggets.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Day 37: I *will* hit 'publish'

March 21st, 2011

I bought colored sharpies today. I couldn't help myself. I have so many art inspirations that I am not able to pursue. I REALLY REALLY REALLY wish I had my scrapbook stuff. I miss having all of my craft things. I feel like I have to start over. I feel like that's what I've had to do here, over and over again, start over.

I am so excited for mom and I to be moving to our own apartment in Renton. Next weekend! Unfortunately almost all the costs will fall on my shoulders, but that's what I get for being the driving force in getting out of this current residence. There is nothing wrong 'per se' with the domicile itself. It is just the circumstances that surround it. The owners and landlords of this house are my mom's close friends, which has put so much strain on their friendship since I was brought back to Washington. My mom was right to bring me back to Washington with her. I know in my heart that had she left me there, I would have attempted to kill myself again, and I would have succeeded.

It was inevitable that strain would be placed on their friendship when they insisted that only one animal come back with me. One? No. Sorry. I understand that they had needed at one point to rescue their daughter from a bad situation and the one animal rule was enforced, but this is not the same situation. I was not rescued from a bad marriage. My husband and I are still very much in love and in a committed relationship- we have animals together. I am not going to just get rid of our cat that has been with us almost as long as we've been together (10+ years), and I'm not going to get rid of my chihuahua who my mom calls "her grandpuppy". That right there is two. In addition, I am not going to get rid of my other cat that I nursed back to health from 2 weeks of age who suckles on my lip. And how am I not supposed to get upset giving my great dane to a rescue after having her for over two years and spending thousands of dollars on her(total)? It's merely impossible. I am not their daughter. I am my mother's daughter, and I am so thankful for that it is almost ridiculous.

There have still been many times here that I have wanted to kill myself. Even today the desire to just not exist still crosses my mind. I get tired of the pain. Not only in my hip, but now in my shoulder and neck as well. I get tired of being alone. I get tired of being trapped in my room when my mom isn't here.

My mom and I joked yesterday at Wal-Mart. I said how I was excited and crazy and I was going to decorate my room like a 14 year old girl. She said that fit for me. It was like a dagger. I feel like a 14 year old girl. I'm 27 years old now, but I am trapped at home unless my mom drives me somewhere. I don't even get to go to school. I am controlled by my body's limitations, my emotional stability, and my doctor's suggestions. I am stranded in my own imaginary isolation ward, with three furry companions.

The whole suicide subject came up because of an interaction I saw on facebook last night. Someone made a comment to my best friend that, in my view and opinion, was not only pointless, but unnecessary and inflammatory. The rude comment sparked a lot of anger in myself, as well as my best friend. The situation didn't end the best, and as such I don't want to spark a new flame to it- only to say that when it is obvious someone is having a bad day (such as is stated in that specific status) it is completely counterproductive and pointless to make a statement that in no way comforts or enhances the situation in a positive light.

The person that made the pointless comment, is the same person that told me last November the late night and early morning before seriously trying to kill myself that while I had a bone marrow donor, noone was there for an ex-friend of mine. Which was the same ex-friend who I had pulled every string I could to get the money to fly her and her animals to Texas and for their vet bills, and who my brother married so she could have medical benefits for herself and her unborn child because he cared about her. The same ex-friend that treated me like shit the whole time she was in Texas, and wouldn't do anything, except to say "I was going to do that" any time I already started doing something, despite the fact I was on a shitload of morphine and in craptons of pain. But hey, she was pregnant, so that trumps everything right? Maybe if she didn't shit on everyone that was there for her, she'd have more people to support her??

I don't have any sympathy for her, not after all the lying she did to me, the lying and using she did, the continous lying she has continued to do- Pity party for one. She would have had everything she needed but she chose to screw that all up for herself by treating me like crap and talking shit to her friends, WHILE she talked shit about them to ME! HAH!

You know, I lived with her sister for months and not once wanted to kill myself. After one month of being around my ex-friend I was in the ICU. And while I was in the ICU, she was on facebook saying "she hoped she didn't get kicked out." Kicked out by WHOM? My husband who was and is overseas fighting for her right to be a completely obnoxious lying BITCH? Yeah. Especially since I had never said one word about kicking her out. I had told her that I was moving to Washington, and I didn't care if she chose to stay here or go back to Alaska after her best friend had written a malicious comment on a status of mine. I also talked to my brother in the morning about him and her taking over the lease, but since she never talked to him she wouldn't know that, because at that point, she had already lied to shelters and law enforcement saying I was kicking out a 6 month old pregnant woman who didn't have any place to go. And having a cop come to my front door and tell me that I couldn't kick her out (when I had not said a FUCKING word about that) was my last straw. She broke me right then. Congratulations Ex-Friend. You are a complete douche.

WOW. That felt good to get out of my system.

Excuse me while I attempt to compose myself.


So I sent boxes to my husband and my brother today. I know my husband does, but I hope my brother appreciates it.

I'm just surrounded by negative energy right now. Negative. Negative as in the opposite of positive. I don't understand why everyone expects me to be positive all of the time. I mean really? Is that even possible if you aren't a Stepford Wife?



Ok, I'm positive again. I'm going to play with my colored sharpies now.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Day 23: To Go or Not To Go.. To Court..

March 7th, 2011

This weekend I received a noticed from the Municipal Court of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. It is a summons to appear in court on the fifteenth of March, to explain why I did not appear in court on the 24th of February. I can explain that right now.

I had absolutely no idea I was supposed to BE in court on the 24th.

I have been waiting for weeks for a notice of some sort for a court date that I knew was going to come, but I have not received anything whatsoever. Well, until this notice. Oh yeah, and I cannot leave state when I have IV infusions every 8 hours for Meningitis.

"So what are you going to do Maria?" I don't have any effing clue. Mom looked online on legalzoom, and of course there were no matches for my case. Go figure. I should call JAG, but there is just a huge part of me that doesn't want to deal with JAG. I'm so... scared of them.

Stupid I know, but it's true. Plus I don't want to have to drive all the way down to Ft. Lewis. I don't want a lot of things, but I guess what I want is pretty much out of the question anyways so I better just buck up for this one.

I mean seriously, I'm being charged with a misdemeanor for flipping someone the bird and calling her a crazy fucking bitch after she freaks out on us (Tana and Myself) for parking in a handicap parking spot (which I happen to have a permit for) in the Wal-Mart parking lot of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. She was completely the aggressor, but of course because SHE happened to be an off-duty police officer, I'm up shit creek without a paddle.

Can we say abuse of power? Come on, say it with me! "A-bee-yoos uh-f Pow-wer"


On another note, I am at home. I came home on Saturday after going to Radiology to receive a PICC line. A PICC line is actually a "Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter". Basically it is an IV that reaches to your heart. The difference between the one I have and a normal PICC line, is that regularly a PICC line would be placed in a person's arm. Mine, however, is placed right under my collar-bone in the subclavian vein. This is because the chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant have pretty much screwed my arm veins and none of them were viable to put a line through.

So they sent me home Saturday, and set me up with a home-health nurse. She came to the house at about 8:30 p.m. Saturday night and showed me how to use this IV system. She also brought with her all of the IV medications I would need until today when my Monday nurse would be here.


Today my nurse *D showed up at 10:30 a.m. She took my vitals, drew blood, and went through the check of systems. Then she chit-chatted with us for a little while and went on her way.


OH! Yesterday mom and I went and ran a bunch of errands, and I ended up buying girl scout cookies, and as a birthday gift to myself I also bought the new Pokemon game, White version as well as the official strategy guide. So far I am greatly enjoying it, and it has let me escape reality WONDERFULLY.


The problem with all of this happening right on top of each other, is that my emotional response becomes out of control. For whatever reason, I can't keep myself together. I become extremely agitated and defensive.

I hate that I am putting so much on mom's plate. I know that we are working together on this, but so much is being put on her plate, because of the fact that I can't seem to hold it together. She recognizes it though, and knows that I would take control of it if I could. It feels like such a load of crack considering I seem to be able to type about it calmly, but it's like watching myself. I can't stop it when it starts happening, and it's like my mind goes somewhere else and some other part of me takes over spitting out venom in all directions.


I woke up at 10:26 p.m. After mom left for work I couldn't keep my eyes open. My 2 p.m. infusion just put me to sleep. It was SO hard to stay awake until the end of it. I fell asleep repeatedly, and am so thankful for my alarm.