i live in my body, i live in my life, & they both belong to me
I can't decide the best way to divert my rage,
Sometimes anger is fun, but usually it's just a waste of my energy.
Warning to all those who read this, there may soon be a slew of cheesy and angsty "poetry," or just ranting in all caps.
I feel weak and inadequate a lot of the time. But recent events and conversation have led me to reflect on the amazing progress I have made over the past several months.
I just got out of a five year emotionally abusive relationship. (I'm not touching someone with a ten foot pole that tries to control my behavior in any way, I don't care if it's an overreaction).
I'm still recovering from said relationship. It's clearly not all that different from recovering from any other kind of addiction.
I graduated college.
I got a fucking rad job (an *almost* full-time one at that) that is going to be useful to me in so many ways in the short and long run.
I got a psychiatrist. I got legal anti-anxiety medication. I'm trying an SSRI despite my misgivings.
I dealt with my sister trying to kill herself and nearly dying. I deal with living with her and her issues every day.
I'm dealing with my father being sick.
I conquered a major period of severe depression and anxiety.
I stopped isolating myself.
I learned how to feel again.
I am not numb anymore.
I regained motivation to be creative and write and draw and paint and take photos.
I regained my lost sex-drive.
Despite my physical problems I'm doing my best to help my mother around the house and clean, cook, etc. as well as provide her with emotional support.
I still have things to work on.
I'm trying to be healthier. I'm trying to get more exercise. Trying to drink more water. Trying to eat more often and better foods. Trying to drink less coffee and smoke less cigarettes. I'm TRYING to get health insurance AND a pain management doctor. I'm trying to figure out why my menstrual cycle is out of whack and I am bleeding abnormal blood and having pain when I shouldn't be. I'm also actually trying to start one or two websites or small businesses to sell soap and art. I'm going to research graduate schools and study for the GRE and study chemistry and take community college classes.
But none of this matters.
Everything I am doing and trying to do is not GOOD ENOUGH.
I'm not TRYING HARD ENOUGH.
I'm making things more COMPLICATED THAN THEY NEED TO BE.
Pain management should be MY FIRST PRIORITY.
FUCK EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE.
Because I'm just a full blown JUNKY.
And if I don't get a doctor I'm clearly going to end up in rehab. Because my life is so obviously a chaotic mess.
I ENJOY illegally and erratically getting over-priced medications to treat my pain.
I'm ECSTATIC that one can't find triptans on the black market and I have to share with my mom who also gets migraines.
Because I'm an addict.
Because I'm scared to find a doctor.
I'd rather continue this route because it's so much EASIER.
And my pain must really NOT BE THAT BAD. Because I haven't gone to the emergency room. Because I don't have a doctor yet. Because I'm buying vicodin on the street until I get one.
All of this from a boy who has been homeless for two years.
All of this from a boy on 120 mg of methadone a day, who knows how much xanax and valium, and flexeril, and marinol, and marijuana. (What maybe twenty times the amount of drugs I am taking?)
But he's so self-righteous because he is finally trying to quit alcohol and heroin and reduce his marijuana consumption.
And I'm just a naive, little cold-hearted, selfish, manipulative, junky girl.
Because I don't have a doctor yet. And he does.
(I was naive. I was naive to think that another human being with chronic pain who spent years finding a good doctor (choosing to be a heroin addict and alcoholic in the interim) MIGHT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND SOME of what I was going through).
And I need to GET MY PRIORITIES STRAIGHT.
And until then I'm CUT OUT OF HIS LIFE.
I can contact him once I've done what he wants me to do the way he wants me to do it.
Because he CARES about me. And he KNOWS me and my feelings and thoughts BETTER than I do. Because he's "been there."
Yes, as soon as I get a doctor I won't hesitate to contact him and say "Hello dear, now that I've done what you requested, in the exact way you suggested, will you please grace me with your presence once again?"
Right.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
I don't wish ill upon you, nonetheless I don't want your "prayers."
I LIVE IN MY BODY. I've lived in it for over twenty four years. I've had chronic pain since the age of seven. I am not stupid. Why is this such a difficult concept for people to understand? It's simple people. Very, very simple.
AND if anyone ever tells me to take an NSAID or drink water or smoke weed or meditate again I will punch you in the face.
"Dont think sorrys easily said
Dont try turning tables instead
Youve taken lots of chances before
But Im not gonna give anymore
Dont ask me
Thats how it goes
Cause part of me knows what youre thinkin
Dont say words youre gonna regret
Dont let the fire rush to your head
Ive heard the accusation before
And I aint gonna take any more
Believe me
The sun in your eyes
Made some of the lies worth believing
I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you
I can read your mind
I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools
I can cheat you blind
And I dont need to see any more
To know that
I can read your mind, I can read your mind
Dont leave false illusions behind
Dont cry cause I aint chnaging my mind
So find another fool like before
Cause I aint gonna live anymore believing
Some of the lies while all of the signs are deceiving"
Sometimes anger is fun, but usually it's just a waste of my energy.
Warning to all those who read this, there may soon be a slew of cheesy and angsty "poetry," or just ranting in all caps.
I feel weak and inadequate a lot of the time. But recent events and conversation have led me to reflect on the amazing progress I have made over the past several months.
I just got out of a five year emotionally abusive relationship. (I'm not touching someone with a ten foot pole that tries to control my behavior in any way, I don't care if it's an overreaction).
I'm still recovering from said relationship. It's clearly not all that different from recovering from any other kind of addiction.
I graduated college.
I got a fucking rad job (an *almost* full-time one at that) that is going to be useful to me in so many ways in the short and long run.
I got a psychiatrist. I got legal anti-anxiety medication. I'm trying an SSRI despite my misgivings.
I dealt with my sister trying to kill herself and nearly dying. I deal with living with her and her issues every day.
I'm dealing with my father being sick.
I conquered a major period of severe depression and anxiety.
I stopped isolating myself.
I learned how to feel again.
I am not numb anymore.
I regained motivation to be creative and write and draw and paint and take photos.
I regained my lost sex-drive.
Despite my physical problems I'm doing my best to help my mother around the house and clean, cook, etc. as well as provide her with emotional support.
I still have things to work on.
I'm trying to be healthier. I'm trying to get more exercise. Trying to drink more water. Trying to eat more often and better foods. Trying to drink less coffee and smoke less cigarettes. I'm TRYING to get health insurance AND a pain management doctor. I'm trying to figure out why my menstrual cycle is out of whack and I am bleeding abnormal blood and having pain when I shouldn't be. I'm also actually trying to start one or two websites or small businesses to sell soap and art. I'm going to research graduate schools and study for the GRE and study chemistry and take community college classes.
But none of this matters.
Everything I am doing and trying to do is not GOOD ENOUGH.
I'm not TRYING HARD ENOUGH.
I'm making things more COMPLICATED THAN THEY NEED TO BE.
Pain management should be MY FIRST PRIORITY.
FUCK EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE.
Because I'm just a full blown JUNKY.
And if I don't get a doctor I'm clearly going to end up in rehab. Because my life is so obviously a chaotic mess.
I ENJOY illegally and erratically getting over-priced medications to treat my pain.
I'm ECSTATIC that one can't find triptans on the black market and I have to share with my mom who also gets migraines.
Because I'm an addict.
Because I'm scared to find a doctor.
I'd rather continue this route because it's so much EASIER.
And my pain must really NOT BE THAT BAD. Because I haven't gone to the emergency room. Because I don't have a doctor yet. Because I'm buying vicodin on the street until I get one.
All of this from a boy who has been homeless for two years.
All of this from a boy on 120 mg of methadone a day, who knows how much xanax and valium, and flexeril, and marinol, and marijuana. (What maybe twenty times the amount of drugs I am taking?)
But he's so self-righteous because he is finally trying to quit alcohol and heroin and reduce his marijuana consumption.
And I'm just a naive, little cold-hearted, selfish, manipulative, junky girl.
Because I don't have a doctor yet. And he does.
(I was naive. I was naive to think that another human being with chronic pain who spent years finding a good doctor (choosing to be a heroin addict and alcoholic in the interim) MIGHT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND SOME of what I was going through).
And I need to GET MY PRIORITIES STRAIGHT.
And until then I'm CUT OUT OF HIS LIFE.
I can contact him once I've done what he wants me to do the way he wants me to do it.
Because he CARES about me. And he KNOWS me and my feelings and thoughts BETTER than I do. Because he's "been there."
Yes, as soon as I get a doctor I won't hesitate to contact him and say "Hello dear, now that I've done what you requested, in the exact way you suggested, will you please grace me with your presence once again?"
Right.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
I don't wish ill upon you, nonetheless I don't want your "prayers."
I LIVE IN MY BODY. I've lived in it for over twenty four years. I've had chronic pain since the age of seven. I am not stupid. Why is this such a difficult concept for people to understand? It's simple people. Very, very simple.
AND if anyone ever tells me to take an NSAID or drink water or smoke weed or meditate again I will punch you in the face.
"Dont think sorrys easily said
Dont try turning tables instead
Youve taken lots of chances before
But Im not gonna give anymore
Dont ask me
Thats how it goes
Cause part of me knows what youre thinkin
Dont say words youre gonna regret
Dont let the fire rush to your head
Ive heard the accusation before
And I aint gonna take any more
Believe me
The sun in your eyes
Made some of the lies worth believing
I am the eye in the sky
Looking at you
I can read your mind
I am the maker of rules
Dealing with fools
I can cheat you blind
And I dont need to see any more
To know that
I can read your mind, I can read your mind
Dont leave false illusions behind
Dont cry cause I aint chnaging my mind
So find another fool like before
Cause I aint gonna live anymore believing
Some of the lies while all of the signs are deceiving"