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Hanging In There

I don’t even know that to say.

I’m sitting here it is 6:45PM on Monday May 4th, 2015 and I still have no health insurance because the pissant that will not be legally responsible when I lose my shit doesn’t give a shit that he was incorrect about me getting it back on the 1st as a probably yet worse case scenario.  I’m in withdraw from yes, taking nothing, and like 6 days post-op and I don’t know what part of me is going haywire because of what but every part of my down to the small molecule is going crazy from the volatile cocktail that is Fibromyalgia, unmedicated serious mental health, post operation, and a broken tooth I forgot to tell you all about that happened mid way through the month that will hence forth never be named it has been that horrible.

A month, year, life from now I will look back and see how strong I was to make it through this exact moment in time but for now I’m going to loving punch this kitten in the face.

hang-in-there-cat

Loving because it’s a kitten. In the face because it needs to stop telling me what the to fuck do already.  Be warned other people who might carelessly throw this line around.

So instead of punching kittens I’m going to hide off grid for a bit.  I promise you’ll hear from me soon and before it involves constructing an insanity plea.

Or you’ll hear from me tomorrow, I don’t know, but blogging can be therapeutic.  But my blogging schedule can’t tell me what to fucking do either.

Also, I’m really active on tumblr right now and a bit more pleasant there because I’m currently fangirling over AOU.

Wait can we.

I need to back up.

Guilt.

First of all I feel guilty as hell for feeling as sick as I do because I chose to have my appendix almost rupture while I was withdrawing from my meds, a few days after I ripped a dental filling out of a tooth while flossing.  That shit needs to stop but it’s part of the sickness.  Am a manipulating my husband into giving me more time to hide?

I swear to god my appendix was a physical manifestation of the stress.

Also and my original guilt sidetrack:

I feel this compulsion to justify having spent 10$ on me and my husband’s one no matter what movie a year (MARVEL) when I can’t afford over 2 grand in meds for me in the kid.  And what that movie date did for me in therapy… right down to the three young girls behind us whom as one said “ew” to a kissing scene.

I’m not proofreading this.  Suck it.  I’m literally shaking.

2 Comments

  1. Ping from Out-Numbered:

    Hang in there kiddo. Some days it’s one day at a time. Some days it’s one breath at a time. Good days are stored up in the bank. You’ll cash some in soon. Thoughts and prayers for a speedy recovery.

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