Posts Tagged ‘For Serious’

So, I have been struggling recently.

Being sick sucks. Most of the time I manage to accept the fact that I am sick, that it is permanent, and this is my normal. But sometimes, I don’t.

Then I get frustrated, that even though I do all the stuff I am supposed to do, it doesn’t get any better. I don’t get any better. And the reality of the situation is, I will never get any better. Between the mental illness, the kidney failure, the rheumatoid arthritis: that stuff is all permanent. It can be managed, but it is never going away. I never get to go back to the way my life was before my kidneys failed.

And then it’s like I’m 13 again, and I get all rebellious, and decide that I’m not going to do stuff, especially not the stuff that is currently saving my life. Stupid, but there it is.

See, this acceptance stuff, it’s a process. There is no finish line, just a constant attempt to accept the reality that this is the way my life is and I need to make the best of it. This is my normal.

And mostly my life is good. I have friends, and family, I do fun stuff. Most days, I love my life. Most days, I am happy.

Not at the moment, though. I’m still kind of pissed about the whole being sick thing.

My niece, Eldest, asked me if I was sicker than I was supposed to be. I’m not, I’m just sicker than I want to be. And I need to continue working on being ok with that.

At least until I can replace most of my body parts with cybertronic equivalents.

So, two days ago I ran out of dry cat food, and Los Gatos have been acting like they have NEVER BEEN FED IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES.

I fed them wet food twice a day, but they still howled and sat in the kitchen all day. In the morning, they circled me on the bed like loud, furry sharks, smacking me with their paws, and trying to sit on my head.

Then I got their dry food, put it out in bowls and they promptly ignored it.

I do not always like my cats.

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So, I sold my books, and got a great price for some of them, and a not very good at all price for the rest. And I am totally fine with that, because the point was to get rid of stuff. The money is just a bonus. You know, for tacos.

I like tacos.

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Grant sent me healing popcorn this week, because I read on WebMD that the cure for all my illnesses was bacon and cheddar popcorn, and everyone knows that they don’t put stuff on the internet that isn’t true.

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In other news, I have decided that my totally inability to be healthy in any sense of the word is no longer going to prevent me from dating. There are a lot of people in this world, fully half of them are men, and of those there is bound to be at least one who can not only handle my freakshow of medical issues but love me because of that.

I mean, statistically, it should work, right?

So I lost three days to recovery from La Flippity Flop, and I am not sure exactly what I did or who I talked to during those days. I’m pretty sure I had supper with Sizzle, and I probably talked to some people on the telephone, but I have no idea who or what I said.

Welcome to my life.

But today I actually felt quite good, and so I got up at, like , 8 AM and by noon had done three loads of laundry, taken out the recycling, vacuumed the carpets, washed the kitchen floor on my hands and knees, made a meal, and took out the trash.

I may have been possessed by the spirit of Bev Kaply.

And now, having set up my machine for tomorrow, I am watching all three Star Wars movies, in order, the REAL ones, not that weird ass shit with Jar Jar Binks. I shall eat a good supper, take a nice shower and go to bed early. Because it is motherfucking hot outside, and the sun wants me dead, so I am staying in the frosty cold fastness of my bat-cave until I have to venture forth to the brain doctor.

That’s just how I roll. Or flop. You know, whatever.

So today I get to have my boobs squeezed between a variety of metal plates while some tech takes radiation pictures that may or with my luck, may not make me sterile.

Being 42 is awesome.

Actually, being 42 IS awesome. I realized yesterday that I am having way more fun these days than I did in my twenties, and that’s even taking into consideration the fact that I barely remember my 20′s on account of the massive quantities of booze, pills and other illegal and yet highly available substances I ingested.

I spent most of my life in the grip of anxiety and the panoply of mental illnesses I am afflicted with. I didn’t have many friends, or much of a typical childhood and my teen years, what I remember of them, are mostly me wracked with social anxiety. And drugs, lots of drugs.

We also moved A LOT, which kind of made everything else much more challenging.

These days, most of that is under control. Not gone, because I’m not sure that such an integral part of me can ever be gone, but I manage that shit. I learned, over time, that while fear ran my life, I was not going to be happy or have fun.

Fuck that shit.

So now, no matter how I feel, I take my meds. I go to meetings. I make plans with people and most of those people become friends.

Even when I am having a bad day, a day when I feel worthless or hopeless, I can recognize that it’s just a feeling. Feelings aren’t facts, and they will pass if I just keep doing the things I need to do.

That, my friends, is a fucking miracle. And is directly responsible for the really great life I now have.

Ok, enough if this feelings stuff. So over it, dudes. Let’s talk about something else. Without feelings.

So.

Last year, the internet gave me a Kindle. This was awesome,  and not just because my friends are awesome, but because reading is like breathing, it must be done regularly and the Kindle makes it far easier for me, especially with the rheumatoid arthritis. I have the arthritis, not the Kindle. The Kindle doesn’t have joints. At least not diseased ones.

ANYWAY, I love my Kindle, which I call Robobook, and I take it everywhere with me. I took it to New England at Christmas, and while there I noticed that there was a spot on the screen. It also started taking a long time to load, and it was getting…quirkier by the day.

Also, the front and back were starting to separate, obviously ungood. I sent an email to Amazon, and they sent me a number to call, but I kept getting sick and having surgery and such, and so only got around to calling them today.

ANNNNNND the warranty ran out on the 23rd.

But, and here is why I have a deep abiding love for Amazon, they are replacing it anyway. And no, I didn’t yell at them or anything, they just said that is what they were going to do. And they are sending me a pre-printed label to return the old one.

And this is good because a life without my Robobook is a life not worth living, dudes. SHUT UP.