If you play with fire, you get burned.

I did some therapy work today on someone in my life who really failed me when I needed them to be there, and letting that go. Then when I got home it struck me like a sack of bricks – what a fucking idiot I was!!  I knew better than to expect that this person would have supported me. They just didn’t have it in them. So doesn’t that make me colossally stupid for making myself vulnerable go them? (Rhetorical question. Yes. It makes me incredibly, embarrassingly stupid.)

So I may have forgiven them, but I am mad at myself. And feel as if that negates all of the pain… How can I be like “boo hoo, they really kicked me when I was down” when of course they did!! I never expected – although I might have hoped – for them to do any different?   I can make excuses – I was young, my back was to the wall – but the fact is I knew better.

I haven’t felt so much like cutting myself for a long, long time. I hardly slept all night, I kept having nightmares about being unsafe, then I cried all morning about this shit and now I just feel worn out and have a dull headache and would really love that sweet sharp pain to distract me. A tattoo would be even better but you can’t get that at the drop of a hat, at least not a good one.

 

Lonely.

I’m lonely.

Really lonely. In the way that I imagine little widowed old ladies are, except at least they have the memory of once having been loved to sustain them.

I’m on the verge of booking an appointment with The Cuddlery, who have staff in my city. I feel that it’s weird or pathetic somehow.  I suppose it’s kind of the same as booking a massage therapist to give me a neckrub or a counsellor to listen to me – paying for the absence of a life partner. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll become addicted?

That’s where the time goes…

The last time I saw my counsellor I complained (again) about how much time migraines seem to suck up, and how I don’t want to track them in my regular daytimer because that makes them seem like an overlay of my life. I had just had one on two consecutive days, and literally couldn’t remember what I’d taken for it. I keep my meds in my nightstand so sometimes I’ll wake up in the morning with a vague memory of having woken in the night and then I’ll see an empty foil blister pack which is like “proof” that it wasn’t a dream.

Anyway, I bought a little notebook on Monday at his suggestion, to keep by my bed so I can jot down when I take a Percoset or whatever so at least I won’t fry my liver. And suddenly it’s clearer why I look back on a week and think “gee, I haven’t gotten anything done”:

Sunday May 15: migraine, slept all day

Monday May 16: migraine settled down mid-day, went to counsellor

Tuesday May 17: everything okey-dokey

Wedneday May 18: Thunderstormy weather. Ordered migraine meds from pharmacy but couldn’t get it together to go get them. Couldn’t fall asleep because my head hurt too much. Ended up taking 2 Percoset, a Tramadol and a sleeping pill late at night.

Thursday May 19: Holy shit! I woke up and the world is exploding in my head. At noon I dragged myself to the pharmacy and during the five-minute wait I was sweating and weaving and thought i was in more danger of puking in public than I have been in years.  Popped out a migraine pill while my debit card was going through. Came home and injected Gravol, then smoked some pot for the first time in months.  Got it under control but that was it for the day.

Friday May 20: Woke up with a “headache hangover.”  I had been having weird vivid dreams. I’m tired and unmotivated.

So I am kind of pissed off. For this entire last week, one day? One freaking day is all I get? No wonder I feel like I don’t have time to accomplish anything…

A well-done heart.

I just got home from having a catheter ablation of my heart.

I probably would’ve been more scared before hand if I knew what it was going to be like. They put wires through my femoral artery, and then one through my shoulder, and when they thread a wire from your bikini line to your heart it feels like that is exactly what’s happening. Kind of an uncomfortable pressure, except that understates it. I don’t know. It feels like exactly how you would imagine it to feel. Really weird.

Then they poke around stimulating different areas of the heart so that they can find what part is responsible for the arrhythmia. That wasn’t fun and I had no sedation or anti-anxiety meds. I wanted to try and remember what he was saying because it sounded like dialogue off of ER, like “let’s shock with 500 and then go down by 20s. Again.” Of course when it was ‘successful’, it sent my heart into arrythmia which is uncomfortable in its own way.

Then he started to ablate, but he hadn’t told me he was switching from the exploratory part to the actual procedure. It hurts like a mother, and I was startled so I yelled “Ow! Jesus!” which was pretty funny. HE apologized for it hurting me, but all I could think is that he was lucky that I didn’t let fly with some worse swear words. Hahaha.

I had my head turned to the right, away from my shoulder with the port in it, to the wall that had a clock.  The whole thing took more than an hour in the OR and it felt like watching the clock was making it feel even longer than it already was.  So I turned my head and saw that my shoulder was all bloody and NOPE to that, don’t like blood, I’ll take the view of the clock!

When they finished they took me back, where I had to lay flat for two hours because of the puncture in the artery that they need to clot. At the end of two hours I was still bleeding so I had to lay there even longer.  It isn’t like laying in bed at home – you really can’t use your phone or tablet comfortably without your head being propped up. It was boring but OK, except that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since midnight the day before so I was hungry and thirsty and wanted to go pee.

At 5:20 I was finally out of there and home to the couch watching TV. Yay!

I’m fucking poor.

Holy shit, am I poor.  I just crunched my pitiful numbers and I have $58 left for the month after I pay the rent.  I realized that the job options I thought I had aren’t actually practical so I’m back to square one.  I can’t fucking do it, I can’t fucking send out resumes for months in a row. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

The cat has lots of food, and I guess I’ll be boiling up some lentils.