Clawing the thin ice

I’m guessing yesterday was “Emo” day for GPOYW. Here is my emo picture:

This can also be labeled as “current status.”

On Tuesday, people were posting “truths.” Here is my truth:

I am so fucking angry at most of the people in my life. Scratch that. I’m so fucking angry at all of the people in my life. Where the fuck are you when I need you?

I will play along with the GPOYs and the truths, and maybe even some of the other themes going on daily, but I will always be late. Because I’m late for everything. I will not conform to your time constraints and you can’t make me.

And today is Massage Therapy Thursday!!! I honestly don’t know what happened to the rest of the week. Days sure go by fast when you’re curled up in bed, in the dark, praying to Trent Reznor and Cthulhu for the pain to go away.

Oh, and I finished Fight Club last night. Damn good book! I want to give it five stars.

I’m supposed to be meeting that other gimpy woman in about half an hour.

I haven’t showered.

My cat is being an attention whore.

My bathroom isn’t clean.

I hurt. 

I stink.

I think my son is calling in sick to work. We are both so worn out with all the shit that’s been going on and it’s catching up to him today.

And my head fucking hurts.

I don’t want to exist today.

That is all. Please resume all normal activities.

I’m caught up on Tumblr, but I didn’t queue anything. I’m just too fucking tired.

I’m fucking tired. After getting home from Massage Therapy Thursday, I felt like a marshmallow and I fell asleep. Then I awoke craving chocolate-covered marshmallows. I’m pretty sure I had a dream about them.

I need to find a different way to type while laying down because this is totally fucking up my left shoulder.

Massage Therapy fucking hurt, but she did a damn good job getting the hurt out of my back.

Still feeling a little marshmallowy (and still craving them covered in chocolate), so I’m going to go to sleep.

Tomorrow I’m meeting a gimpy woman who is in the same situation I’m in. We’ll see if we can get along well enough to get a house together. I’ll let you know what happens.

Something just flashed outside my window and scared the hell out of me. Then came thunder. I do believe it’s going to rain.

Oh, and I lost a follower. I was hardly on Tumblr all day and someone abandoned me while I wasn’t looking. Asshole.

Goodnight, sweet dreams, and gentle hugs all around.

I have felt sick to my stomach since last night. This morning is worse, so I’m popping Tums like it’s candy. Whatever it is, it’s moving down to my gut, too. So, yeah. I won’t elaborate on that.

Today is supposed to be major packing/cleaning day. My friend, Eddie, will be here at noonish so he and my son can get the majority of this shit done. I don’t think I’ll be that much help. But, then, I never am. I pretty much just delegate.

I’m supposed to be sorting through shit because I want to have a major yard sale next weekend. But I kinda can’t move, so that’s going to have to wait until I can move again. 

I was actually moving around not too long ago. I had about 20 minutes of not feeling too bad, then the holy-shit-I’m-feeling-really-sick wave hit me again.

So I’m just going to lay here and hope my stomach settles and I don’t get any more abdominal cramps again, and that maybe my lower back will calm the fuck down and the pain in my neck and shoulders will abate. And maybe I’ll take an allergy pill so my eyes will stop seeping. 

And maybe I’ll just keep laying here. I’m praying I won’t have to throw up.

Took a Xanax, so I’m not feeling as antsy as I was right after my son left for work.

My back hurts like fucking hell, so I won’t be doing any packing or cleaning tonight.

My hair is out of control and I want to cut it all off right now.

I want something to do.

I’m almost done with The Kite Runner (the book, not the movie), so I might just finish that. But in an hour or so, when I finish it, I’ll still want something to do.

I don’t feel like watching a movie or TV.

I think maybe I should eat something.

I used my cupping set on my left shoulder and it feels so much better than it did before.

I haven’t been sleeping well, again, so I kinda feel like shit all over. I hate it when I go through the “sleeplessness” phases. 

I still don’t have a place to move to and the bank is putting the house up for sale on June 1st. If anybody knows anything about foreclosures, I would appreciate some information. Do I have to be out by then? Are they going to serve me with an eviction notice? How does this work?

I wish I had more friends who would come over to help me or just hang out with me. 

When I see my doctor on Tuesday, I think I’m going to ask her to put me into psychotherapy or something.

That’s it for now. It didn’t seem like so much when I started, but I guess I have a lot of shit on my mind. I don’t like having a lot of shit on my mind.

And here’s a cat for Caturday:

I’m still feeling rather crappy, but the panic/anxiety attack abated after the Xanax kicked in. It also helped to have a Vicodin, Fioricet, Zanaflex, and Neurontin. Hello, sweet numbness.

But I still feel bleh. I feel sick. I have absolutely no energy to speak of. Seriously, I can barely lift my head off the pillow. I think my headache is coming back, but I think it’s just my sinuses.

I never took a nap, so that might be what I need.

I feel so very depressed, but a nap won’t help that. Or would it?

There’s so much to do to get ready for the move and I can’t do it. The other night I had a dream that I was working (for those evil, uncaring people I used to work for), and I was hurting so bad but I wasn’t allowed to stop working. I had to do everything for them, including cook them dinner. Finally I just collapsed against somebody and starting bawling (ugly-faced) and saying, “I can’t do it all by myself. I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t do this anymore. I need help.”

Then I woke up crying. And I was in such horrible pain.

Not a good way to wake up.

That was yesterday, in fact. And I was out of commission and completely useless yesterday, as well.

Today is for panic/anxiety attacks, and complete and utter exhaustion.

Do I complain too much? Do people unfollow me because I use this as an outlet for what I’m feeling and experiencing with this “condition”?

I need love.

Do you still love me? Or did you ever love me at all?