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Because I can't bear to eulogize Doug - 2008-08-19
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7:06 p.m. - 2005-07-12
There. That's a little better. I haven't been feeling well. I've been struggling with it. Because there's nothing specifically wrong (like a migraine, ran a power drill through my hand, been trampled by horses) I've been all uptight with the guilts. I'm getting very tired of feeling like I have to justify my bad days. You know, some stigmata, a few pulsing boils, something visible and tangible- proof of my ill health would go a long way in soothing my unreasonable psyche. Gads, I feel like crap. Weak and stupid and bleh. Yet I persist in bedeviling myself and being stingy with meds. Like it's bad enough I've hardly moved for 3 days, I really don't 'deserve' to get spliffed too. I shit you not. Unbelievable. Who is judging me? Nobody. Ab-so-fucking-lutely nobody. Mike? When I finally asked for a drink tonight and told Mike to take the baby for a long walk, Mike's eyes welled up. He was relieved I was finally going to get comfortable. Why do I do this to myself? You know, even if I felt totally fine it wouldn't be the crime of the century that I laid off the housework for a couple days and wrote bad poetry until the wee s'mas. Gods preserve me from this binding mindset which insists I be productive and useful all the time. "I'm not a cripple! I'm handi-able!" 17 years of this shit. Part of it is my never-ending tilt at the windmill of Depression. Despite the reading and the MD diagnoses and my own long, long experience, some cruel self-goading part of me still believes Depression is nothing but self-indulgent laziness. If I push myself hard enough I'll burst through the heaviness and 'get on top of things' as I should. As I am supposed to. Giving in is wrong. Wrong and lazy and weak and selfish. This moronic and masochistic mindset has glommed onto MS too. Another thing I 'allow' to run my life instead of being its master. Control issues? Who me? And Catholic guilt? And what of my personal crusade to Not Be Like Mom? The woman was a wuss and a hypochondriac. Ergo I must be tough, stoic, and never malinger. This above all the other things is the crux. The problem with MS is that nothing is constant. And some of the stuff I get zapped with just sounds so flimsy. Tired? Leaden limbs? Banding? "Daww, is da poor baby is sweepy? Gots squeezy feelings across your tum-tum?" I cannot help feeling like I should somehow be able to be 'bigger' than this thing. And when I can't get on top of it I hector myself mercilessly. And Damn! I don't want to do this anymore! I'm tired of having to fight my body and struggle for my soul all the time. I just want to be normal. Not normal cured, all I'm asking is for normal like I can accept my limitations without feeling like a slacker and a moral coward. Normal like finally acknowledging that even healthy people don't give 100% every second of their lives. I want to understand what it's like just be. Good days, bad days, awful days, just accept what I do is okay. There's a storm coming so I'll cut this off and post now. Knock-knock jokes and other levities would be most appreciated. Thanks, ~LA
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