~Pathetic

Yes, I'm still stuck on it. The anger comes from knowing I fell for it. I watch it again... the bait... the trap... I want to post warnings and details... but I don't... I just keep the faith. In the end, we all show our true colors, one way or another. I was a fool. I fell for it. I can accept that. If that's my true color, I'm ok with that. After all, it's better than being a....

~The art of blogging

Is it really a sign of creative genius to keep posting the same thing, no matter what has happened in the meanwhile? If you write a particularly well received entry, is it not rather pathetic to go to another site and post it again, neglecting to mention that you wrote it way long ago?

I guess it depends on why you're keeping a blog. If you're trying to suck someone into your life, I suppose it makes sense to use what previously worked. The online pickup line. Pretty lame. It's like writing a love letter and just changing the "Dear" name over and over as you move onto "the next one".

I'm not impressed only by the piece. I'm impressed by both the creative process and the result. The thought of receiving recycled words makes me feel ill. It screams "You're nothing special. You don't deserve the brain power. You're just the next in line." It's a shame that most people can't tell when words are recycled, it might save them from being hurt.

I hope I never get to the point of recycling my words. I like to think that I'm better than that. Then, maybe one day I'll be so desperate, that I'll try.

... naaah

~summing me up

Anything anyone wants to know about me, just ask. Reading back over the old entries isn't going to tell you a whole hell of a lot. As the title suggests, these blog entries are just rants and musings... diarhea of the brain, so to speak.

I'll have to find one of those 100 question types of things to do. Haven't done one in a while... could be fun.

(012705 ~Comment Reply)

I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have more appts to go to... I'm waiting for the next diagnosis. :\

~stucky brain

Updated my profile... not an easy task. I never know what to say or not say.

I guess I can always change or add to it later. No sense in wasting valuable "working brain" time on it, I suppose.


Wish I could write. I'm sort of stuck. Hopefully it won't last forever.

~Back on the horse

Trying to clean things up.

I paid for this blog. I figure, I may as well use it.

Unfit

People who use their own children as tools of manipulation are not fit to be parents.

People who use their own children as tools of revenge are not fit to be parents.

People who use their own children as human shields are not fit to be parents.

People who can't tell where they end and their children begin are not fit to be parents.

People who make cheerleaders for themselves out of their children are not fit to be parents.

I'd vote for shooting the unfit parents, but then the children would never grow to know the truth, they'd only idealize the deceased.

Children do grow... and sometimes they do eventually see the truth. Often, they even remember the lie... and can clearly see the liars. That they might, is a chance worth taking. It's better than jail.

There is a fate worse than death. I know all about these things, just ask my mother. She knows all about the painful sound of the silence of a child, as she should, and as I hope all unfit parents eventually do.

Next on the MS bandwagon (cont'd 2)

The zappy thing was brutal. The flashing image eye testy thing was fucked up too. I hope that they don't have to do that series of tests again any time soon. With the lab work, they blew the vein after the sixth vial of blood, which although painful, was lucky because that's all they needed.

I hope that's the end of the tests for a little while. I'm in the process of finding a Primary Care doc, and waiting for my appointment with the MS specialist Nero-doc in February. Still not sure about the whole lawsuit thing. I don't even know how to go about finding a lawyer.

I try not to think about things, as much as I can. Thinking about it stresses me out. Stress causes "flare ups". "Flare ups" suck. I think that, as much as I can, I need to stay as far away from the edge as possible, rather than forcing myself to dangle from it, as I've done in the past. I need to learn how to just say "no"... need to force myself to say it more often. The world will get over it. I won't.

~At least I have a valid excuse

Guess this answers the question, "What's wrong with you?", once and for all. As for what the hell is wrong with those who have taken advantage of me, I don't know. I guess that's for them to figure out. My legs still work. For now, I can still walk. I'm lucky.

I'm easy to manipulate, but I do have some brain left. At the end of the day, I have a lot of shit, but I have that shit together better than most with a lot less. I can still walk... I can still put my foot down.

Next on the MS bandwagon (cont'd 1)

I go for my tests tomorrow.

With the blood work, I just hope that they don't blow any veins. With the "Evoked Potentials", I hope they don't zap the shit out of my ass. (That's a series of tests where they attach electrodes to your scalp, and also to various body parts, and zap you.) (Can't help but think of The Simpsons! )

Fun shit.

Next on the MS bandwagon (cont'd)

What the doctor told me is that I have "Progressive Relapsing" MS. My eye is better, but it only went back to a less damaged point. I still have problems with blurriness, glare, and color, but at least it's not completely gone like it was.

I'm due to meet with a MS specialist in February, and before then, go through the "Evoked Potentials" tests and get some more blood work done.

The diagnosis? I suppose that it's both scary and also a source of relief. I feel a little validated... like I can finally say "I told you so", and make sense of a lot of what has been going on with me for most of my life. Things they told me were DID, weren't. Things I wrote off as "Hangover" or "sleep disorder" or "out of shape" or "arthritis" or "PTSD" or "I'm an asshole" actually have a more valid cause/source. At least I know the cause of a lot of my "problems". Whether or not I'll ever be able to "get better" remains to be seen/determined, I suppose. From what I've been told so far, most of the damage (that white part in the center of my brain in the MRI) can't be reversed.

I don't know how in hell I'll be able to afford any of the meds... and honestly, part of me wants to throw in the towel. I've had a long life. I'm tired. I'm angry. I don't know that I want to extend my life. My life has been pretty damn shitty. I "know my MS" very well, I was just told to call it DID because a bunch of idiots who called themselves doctors didn't want to bother with an MRI.

So, am I handling it well? I don't know. I'm trying to take it "one day at a time"... trying to decide if I want to even go through the hassle of a lawsuit which I may very well win. All the money in the world cannot fix my brain, and it cannot compensate for what this disease did to me and my life... not to mention the lives of the people who've had to deal with me over the years. Perhaps, in time, some of the anger will subside. I suppose anything is possible.

"Times" are no more (or less) trying than they've ever been, but at least now I have the damn pictures to prove it.

dain bramage (Next on the MS bandwagon)

As much as I want to type out the whole fucked up story, I don't feel capable. The short of it is: I've had "mental problems" since I was a teenager. I was Institutionalized (that was in 1986). I was labeled. I got worse. I went into the hospital again (that was in 1994). I was re-labeled. I got worse... and worse... and worse. In 2004 I got into a (mentally) abusive relationship. Of course, I got worse. In November, I went blind in one eye. I went to the doctor. I got an MRI (My very first). The result? Apparently, I've had MS for (at least, to quote the doc) the last 10 years. The doc also said, "I've never seen a brain like this." Yes, just like I'd said, over and over and over again, there really was something wrong with my brain.

So, here I am... my life is a mess, my brain is a mess. The good news is that before I killed myself, I got out of the relationship, and that after a pretty hefty course of Prednisone I regained a lot of the sight in my eye.

I don't know what's next for me. The not knowing is making me nuts. I wonder if they have a label for that.

briefly

Don't mind me. My life blew up in my face. I trusted when I should've doubted. I left when I should've stayed. Then... I left when I could have killed. That's a good thing... I think.

There's a story to tell. I don't know why I can't seem to type it out. Maybe it's the disease. Maybe it's just because I'm really fucking tired... tired of all of it. It may be an interesting story, but it's my life... and drama always brings exhaustion after a while, when you're the "star of the show".

My brain is eating itself.

Apparently, it's hungry.

Beginning

Maybe, one day, I'll be able to really write again.