Friday, February 29, 2008

like you would do?

Your body like a searchlight
my poverty revealed,
I would like to try your charity
until you cry, "now you must try my greed."

Saturday, February 23, 2008

I've never gone this long without having any kind of job, and I'm simultaneously terrified, resentful, and exhilarated at the thought of finding work.

I'm afraid that I don't have the damn HP to stay on track for 6-8 hours. let alone dexterity or constitution. It's hard for me to sit still and focus on something mind-numbingly boring when my bones feel like they are made of lava. that, and I'm running out of marketable skills: I'm too sick to cook and I can't clean houses like I used to, not without spending the entire next day in bed recuperating.

I'm hoping to get in at a doula service, because there doesn't really seem to be much out there for semi-cripples like me. my dear old dad is covering my rent next month, so I have a few

I've got three days left of 30 mg Cymbalta capsules, and after that I'll be pharma-free. so far I'm doing fairly well, although the brain zaps just kicked in an hour ago despite the buffer I'd been hoping the weeks of major Omega3/6/9ing would provide. not as bad as I thought, though, and I did have a great acupuncture session yesterday that gave me lovely lovely sleep last night. albeit bizarre dreams featuring Bette Midler.

the nets are in an uproar over that British study on anti-deps' efficacy. I've even seen (hopefully sarcastic) comments calling it a Scientology plant.

I've spent the past 15 years metronoming between "I'm getting MEDS/LIFE tattooed on my knuckles" and "EFF big pharma." I tend to think that meds are only useful in the most extreme of cases and that proper diet, exercise, and supplementation combined with talk therapy or mindfulness training can fix most problems. I'm disgusted that I can obtain 6 weeks of samples (FOR OFF LABEL USE!!!!1!) for ten bucks while the same amount of money will only get me about 2 meals' worth of organic produce, or 5 meals' worth of conventional produce, which may contribute to long term systemic damage. for the typical poverty-limit and under mental patient like myself, our finances just don't allow for the diet required to heal our bodies.

while the idea of national healthcare is so appealing, I'd sure rather see an increase in food stamps. Last time I was on them, I got ten bucks a month, and that was when I made about 750 a month.

my fridge is full now, but after the end of the week it's back to rice and beans until I can find work. I imagine I will end up making some flyers for eco-friendly housekeeping, but it's such painful work I don't know how much I'll actually be able to handle, and then it's back to square one.

I hope once my brain quits churning my posts become more articulate.

Monday, February 11, 2008

they say the way to your heart is through your stomach

Being a Southern girl, if I love someone I cook for them, and worry about them, and bring them presents every time I pay them a visit. Lately this has extended to my offering to make a meal at my friend's houses when I go over for a Buffy or Lost. I worry that they don't eat well, being the sort of boy vegetarian who eats too much white rice and fake meat.

I've been trying to eat an exceptionally well-balanced diet lately. Friday I made mushroom and sweet potato tacos with avocado, chipotle sauce, and onion-steamed kale. Tonight, after a Marinol (BEST CARE PACKAGE EVER), I revived the pressure cooker to make some catfish gumbo. Onions, ginger, garlic, blackeyed peas, organic canned tomatoes, okra, and the last piece of catfish from the giant 4 pound fish I got up at Armitage Produce.

I've gotten so sensitive to what I put in my body. Saturday night I had a gin and tonic and maybe 2 cups of wine and was miserable all day yesterday. Days I eat toast instead of fish and vegetables I can feel it in my energy levels and in my digestion. Hella wicked evil stomach.

I wish my cooking could heal my broken heart, and yours.
my acupuncture clinic gave me some really adorable little round black pills for sleeping. I was astounded by their efficacy. I have been unable to sleep through the night for years without Seroquel, but the second night I took them at dinner and then again about an hour before I planned to take my Seroquel and fell fast asleep reading and only woke up to turn the light off and get up to pee around 4 am. Haven't had any Seroquel since then. maybe 4 days. amazing.

especially now that I am reading that there is a class-action lawsuit against AstraZeneca. apparently there is a high risk of developing diabetes when it's prescribed for off-label use such as a small dose before bedtime to help with insomnia. oh hurray.

the pills are wicked expensive, though, and I am supposed to take 10 2x a day. I guess that's about a dollar a day. man. maybe I should put up a paypal button.

I'd intended to write something witty about my meeting with my dad's pastor's friend here the other day, but ran out of energy. a weekly meeting with this guy (who is the pastor at a small urban church) is a pre-requisite for his supporting me til I can get a job. he wants to know that "I have a responsible adult in my life."

I don't know why my dad thinks this will work. I'll never become a Christian. Especially when this guy got all flustered when I asked him "what about original sin? do you believe women are cursed because of Eve?" I mean, he was just plain kerflummoxed by the fact that I DON'T BELIEVE IN SIN. and then he told me he was certain that Buddhist monks were leading a violent uprising in Burma and not just peacefully getting beaten to death. at that point I wanted to start compiling documentation to prepare for the stupidity I am certain he will bring to arms against me next time we meet.

my therapist says I should tear him apart.

Monday, February 04, 2008

oooh, shiny!!!

I don't know who is responsible for the newly-updated wiki on fibro but it's phenomenal.

Sunday, February 03, 2008

wake up early and you live to regret

I suppose months of being on an anti-convulsive have left me susceptible to mood swings, but for the past few days I've really been plagued by an all pervading sadness that is occasionally overwhelming. I'm shaky and tired, having run out of Seroquel. not even sure if I should continue to take it. Benadryl seems to help me sleep just about as well. and is less toxic. meanwhile my nerves keep misfiring and my muscles feel scraped raw.

I hate being dependent on my parents. I hate feeling this way, I hate the lengths my sickness has forced me to go to get by. I hate this state of perpetual brokenness. I hate my dreams, dreams of being someone else, someone loved and cared for. In my dreams last night I was pregnant and getting married, thrilled to be creating something, thrilled to be wanted and needed and adored. To finally know that things would be ok. And then I wake alone and with no-one to take care of me or hold me when the pain grows so intense I chew my teeth raw. Nothing at all to look forward to, just these unending tears that won't stop leaking. and with cancelled plans and more nights alone and nothing to do but wait it out.

Saturday, February 02, 2008