Oh, fuck.
I want to rant. About my life. Better skip it. The word "fuck" is used unusually often, and it's really very boring.
Alone at last - ah.
Let me see, what side effects does Lamictal have... headache. Headache is ok. Can live with that, and there is always aspirine. Insomnia... well, I get a lot of writing done at 3am. You have to see something positive in everything. Being agressive - eh, it's not too bad, I mean, I'm not throwing things around or anything, and a bit of a bark is not a problem as long as I don't bite.
And now for my favourite: The Rash. Some people who take those meds get this allergy all over their bodies. I only get small patches which I can treat with a special cream, and though it burns like hell, the patches go away pretty quick. But where our cute little rash really blooms, blossoms and prospers is - on my head. No kidding. OK, the good message is: it's not in my face. The goddess is my witness, if I had this shite in my face I'd hop out of the window, seriously.
No, it's well hidden in my hair. Ugly, small pustules which get infected and swell up. They ooze and bleed - I know, you just love me going into detail. Needless to say, half a day after I washed my hair I would have to rewash it, because it looks - a mess. But I can't wash my hair twice a day, or I'd never get rid of the rash. So I wear a lot of hairbands and use gel to make the mess look "wanted". At the moment, I could concurence Robert Smith of The Cure when it comes to hairstyle.
But it's not the looks. It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell. It. Fucking. Hurts. And no matter what I do, it won't go away. In connection with the headache, I'm up to 500mg aspirine today - good thing I stocked up last time I was in England (or was it Canada? No idea.) And not even THAT really helps. I wish I had a guillotine, I guess THAT would be effective!
Lamictal, so the patient information merrily announces, is also used to treat depressions. Oh wow - really? Well, here is some news from a previously fairly nice epileptic: IT MAKES ME FUCKING ANGRY! My tolerance for most things and people has gone below zero.
I'm fucking tired of people trying to use me, taking advantage of me (no, I will NOT sell my press pass for Ringcon to you, chica), lying at me, insulting my intelligence. I'm tired of having to be considerate of everybody and their dogs needs, neuroses, depressions, streaks of bad luck, personal disasters, unhappy relationships, lousy job situations, diet problems, parent stresses, religious doubts, political ambitions and ingrown toe nails. Guess what: other people have problems as well. I can't solve my own, so why the fuck do people assume I can solve THEIRS, for crying out loud?
And you know, if I try to communicate this, I get this "oh I'm so sorry, I had no idea this is such a burden for you, I will not bother you again with my REALLY IMPORTANT LIFE THREATENING PROBLEMS" attitude. Looking back, I really think I've always been there for friends in need. For friends, supposed friends, pretended friends, wannabe friends and non-friends. At times, I'm really so stupid I ought to be kicked.
No, I didn't smoke anything. And I'm not high on some meds. It's just one of those days where I try to be honest with myself and not lie at me about everything being "fine". It's not fine. I feel lousy, I'm in pain and everybody gets on my nerves. The only thing missing for the perfect day out of hell would be this Rebecca cretin mailing me some bible verses. Or somebody whining about lack in "Finding Námo" updates. Or asking for Jonathan Harding's phone number.
Ha. Feel better now. Meh. I should meditate more.
Erestor
Alone at last - ah.
Let me see, what side effects does Lamictal have... headache. Headache is ok. Can live with that, and there is always aspirine. Insomnia... well, I get a lot of writing done at 3am. You have to see something positive in everything. Being agressive - eh, it's not too bad, I mean, I'm not throwing things around or anything, and a bit of a bark is not a problem as long as I don't bite.
And now for my favourite: The Rash. Some people who take those meds get this allergy all over their bodies. I only get small patches which I can treat with a special cream, and though it burns like hell, the patches go away pretty quick. But where our cute little rash really blooms, blossoms and prospers is - on my head. No kidding. OK, the good message is: it's not in my face. The goddess is my witness, if I had this shite in my face I'd hop out of the window, seriously.
No, it's well hidden in my hair. Ugly, small pustules which get infected and swell up. They ooze and bleed - I know, you just love me going into detail. Needless to say, half a day after I washed my hair I would have to rewash it, because it looks - a mess. But I can't wash my hair twice a day, or I'd never get rid of the rash. So I wear a lot of hairbands and use gel to make the mess look "wanted". At the moment, I could concurence Robert Smith of The Cure when it comes to hairstyle.
But it's not the looks. It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell. It. Fucking. Hurts. And no matter what I do, it won't go away. In connection with the headache, I'm up to 500mg aspirine today - good thing I stocked up last time I was in England (or was it Canada? No idea.) And not even THAT really helps. I wish I had a guillotine, I guess THAT would be effective!
Lamictal, so the patient information merrily announces, is also used to treat depressions. Oh wow - really? Well, here is some news from a previously fairly nice epileptic: IT MAKES ME FUCKING ANGRY! My tolerance for most things and people has gone below zero.
I'm fucking tired of people trying to use me, taking advantage of me (no, I will NOT sell my press pass for Ringcon to you, chica), lying at me, insulting my intelligence. I'm tired of having to be considerate of everybody and their dogs needs, neuroses, depressions, streaks of bad luck, personal disasters, unhappy relationships, lousy job situations, diet problems, parent stresses, religious doubts, political ambitions and ingrown toe nails. Guess what: other people have problems as well. I can't solve my own, so why the fuck do people assume I can solve THEIRS, for crying out loud?
And you know, if I try to communicate this, I get this "oh I'm so sorry, I had no idea this is such a burden for you, I will not bother you again with my REALLY IMPORTANT LIFE THREATENING PROBLEMS" attitude. Looking back, I really think I've always been there for friends in need. For friends, supposed friends, pretended friends, wannabe friends and non-friends. At times, I'm really so stupid I ought to be kicked.
No, I didn't smoke anything. And I'm not high on some meds. It's just one of those days where I try to be honest with myself and not lie at me about everything being "fine". It's not fine. I feel lousy, I'm in pain and everybody gets on my nerves. The only thing missing for the perfect day out of hell would be this Rebecca cretin mailing me some bible verses. Or somebody whining about lack in "Finding Námo" updates. Or asking for Jonathan Harding's phone number.
Ha. Feel better now. Meh. I should meditate more.
Erestor