Warning: Expect foul language. I often blog when sleep deprived, and even when I'm not sleep deprived I cuss.
Warning the second: TMI often occurs. Read at your own risk. Feel free to laugh at my expense (I know I do!).
Warning the third: I suppose I should just put a general Trigger Warning here. I talk about mental illness (Anxiety, panic disorder, depression, social shit), abuse (rarely), and my fucked up relationship with food. And...other things. Actually, just consider this a general warning: If you might be triggered by things, you probably should read no further.

Sunday, August 19, 2012


I hate August. I hate Hate HATE August. It hates me back. The humidity kills my fibro, as well as leaving me prostrate and fatigued. I find myself praying and begging for a weather turn. Someday I will be careful what I wish for. Because when that abrupt change happens (with it's corresponding change in barometric pressure) I'm incapacitated for at least a day afterwards. The only thing meaner to my body than the humidity is pressure changes. Which means I am REALLY living in the wrong part of the world. Which means I am REALLY yearning for Arizona, its consistent weather, low humidity, and drinking buddies.
As I prepare for the coming school year, Arizona, university and the move have me excited. They are frighteningly and exhilaratingly close. Three quarters. That's it. The next time I talk to the advising department I'll be starting the application and transfer process. I'm praying that there won't be any roadblocks, but even if there are I'll still be moving to Arizona. I'll just have to keep trying to get in once I'm down there. I hope my faculty advisor is right about me being an attractive candidate for the linguistics program. It's only THREE quarters away and I have so much to do to prepare!
But when my fibro flares my brain doesn't look at it that way. It's TEN MONTHS away. AT LEAST. I'm going to have to suffer through this shit for another TEN MONTHS. Why can't I teleport??
I'm really tired right now. People looking at me from the outside would roll their eyes and call me lazy (something I'm used to at this point). But the constant pain is exhausting. I'll settle into a status quo, where my pain levels will level out and I'll be in a constant state of ache and fatigue. Those are the good times, because I can cope. The great times are when I barely hurt. The bad times are when the pain spikes for whatever reason and I find myself crying, or dry heaving, or rocking back and forth, all because of pain. Then I have sharp,debilitating pain and complete exhaustion.
I can still find hope in that though. "WHY" you may ask (with a WTF look on your theoretical face). At those moments when I'm in tears I can truly believe that my worsening symptoms of mental illness are directly related to my physical problems. I can believe, at that point, that if I can move to Arizona and get the physical under control...maybe my mental issues won't be so bad.
As the kids say "Aja! Fighting!"

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