So today, it’s my frigging knees that are hurting.
Dunno why. I can only assume that somehow, the fall that introduced my poor fragile knees to the cord card concrete is finally catching up to me.
But why would it wait 5 days to do so? Maybe that’s just the stage of the healing I’m in?
Whatever. Like any part of me needs a reason to hurt. I could blame it on the influence of silver prices on leprechaun farts and it would make as much sense.
I am feeling increasingly overwhelmed by all my health issues. There are so many of them now. Diabetes and blood pressure out of control. Three different infections eating away at me. Joints and bones still aching (thank god for Naproxen). Weird fevers and other medical oddities striking without warning.
And that’s just the new stuff.
I feel like I am drowning. I just can’t handle all this depressing complexity. I get overwhelmed by daily life all the time even when I am well.
I would love to be able to just relax and let the medical professional take care of it. But I know I can’t trust these fools. Not with the big picture. They never know what is really going on because all they see is what is in front of them right now.
So thanks for making it so that I have to be EXTRA paranoid and vigilant when I am sick. I am sure that stress really aids in my recovery.
It always kind of sucks for there to be nobody smarter than you in the world but it extra special super soaker sucks when you’re even smarter than your goddamned doctors.
Do you have any idea how lonely that makes me feel? I am all alone out here. I have no true higher authority I can trust to take care of my best interests.
Not even the doctors and nurses currently not quite knowing WTF is wrong with me.
It’s all so frustrating and depressing. I want to be able to relax and trust people. I want to be able, in fact, to have the sort of general faith in the system ordinary people have.
But I see too much. I know too much. I see where they are making mistakes. I know when they could be doing better. I grasps more of the big picture than they do.
And that makes it impossible to relax and trust these people. Or anyone else. It’s like trying to relax on the bus when you know it’s being driven by a toddler.
I mean, what am I supposed to think when I keep going to the ER with legitimate severe symptoms only to be told they have no idea what’s wrong?
If I was rich, I would search the world over for people who actually seem to know the fuck they are talking about.
And then hoard them,
More after the break,.
Well boss, I have broken down our employee retention issue to these factors
- People have a choice whether or not to work for us.
- Working here is extremely unpleasant
- Therefore people choose not to work for us
Obviously there is nothing we can do about factor 2. We clearly can’t make it more pleasant to work here. That would mean the lowly employees had the power to make us do something we don’t feel like doing, and that’s patently absurd.
So we are working on a plan to circumvent factor 1. This whole employees having a choice thing. That sounds wrong on the face of it and I am going to give a stern lecture to whoever slipped up and allowed this to happen.
Isn’t it bad enough that they make us pay them?
Master of illusion
I bitch all the time about being ignored, neglected, and forgotten, but the truth is that from the beginning it’s been as much my fault as anyone else’s.
Because I hide. I cloak. I blend into the woodwork and merge with the wallpaper.
And it’s entirely automatic, to the point where it is my default mode.
And it could be argued, successfully I think, that it is this tendency to cloak that is the whole reason I am so starved for affection and attention in the first place.
Ergo, if I want to get the positive emotional feedback I crave, I am going to have to learn to turn off that damned cloaking field.
And that will be very, very hard to do.
Because on the deepest level, I believe that this cloaking effect is what keeps me safe. That without it I would be utterly exposed and open to all the predators of the world and of my mind to brutalize and destroy me.
Not literally true, of course.
But very much subjectively true.
And that’s the reality I have to struggle with. The truth is that I am the only one who can turn the cloaking field off. If anyone else tried, I would fight them tooth and nail for the right to go right back to the same dank cave I was just fighting to escape.
That’s how deep that shit runs. Right down to my animal-level instincts. That’s what happens when you are violated in the worst possible way when you are too young to cross the street by yourself.
Those bad tapes have been playing in my head for a very long time. Between the rape and the bullying and the emotional poverty of my childhood, it is quite honestly a wonder that I emerged with any sanity whatsoever.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not crazy. I am so crazy it’s killing me. It’s a disease of the hardest to treat mental illnesses to treat, right up there with Borderline and Narcissistic, because like the name says, Avoidant people like me avoid everything, more or less.
Even – or especially – the things that will help us.
We just can’t make ourselves uncloak. Not even to save our own lives.
And pretty soon, it’s going to kill me too.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow..