* Insert deity of choice.
Warning: the following is a possibly misguided rant that stems from a lot of the crap that's going on in my life. It's a flailing, rage-filled entry that probably has more to do with a feeling of lack of control and a deep suspicion that I simply have too much on my plate right now. But, like an infected wound, this stuff is better out than in. It also suffers from excessive use of the word 'fuck'. Not for the faint of heart or weak of knee. And if I manage to accidently delete this entry one more time, I'm taking hostages.
Oi.
You. You with the robes and the omniescence and the ineffable plan.
Yeah, YOU!
I've got a bone to pick with you, mate.
What the FUCK do you think you're playing at?
Do you think this shit is FUNNY?
OK, let's take a step back for a moment, just so we get this clear.
So I get this body. For a long time, I don't appreciate it. I don't feed it properly, I don't exercise it and I certainly don't love it the way it should be loved. To paraphrase the immortal words of a bad 80s hit, I couldn't have the one I loved so I didn't love the one I was with. A lot of us down here do that. It's one of our failings.
Earlier this year, I had an epiphany. Yeah, thanks for that. Appreciated it. I realised that if I took care of this vessel better, then I'd probably come to love it and appreciate it better. By doing that, I'd make a lot of other things better for myself and the people around me.
So I did. I ate well and I exercised and I learned to love it for its beautiful imperfections. I took that step and achieved a certain wisdom and grace from it. You know, like we're supposed to do. Achieve nirvana or enlightenment or whatever you want to call it by learning lessons and overcoming our failings along the way.
Now, don't get me wrong, there were some good things that came out of this. Things like my fitness and strength and flexibility (and the fact that I'm getting buns so tight I could crack walnuts with them).
All that is of the good.
But what's with this other shit? What's up with that? What the fuck sort of lesson am I supposed to be learning here, because since September of this year, all I've learnt is that if I try to get fit and healthy, I'm going to bounce from one medical issue to another!
Am I supposed to be better off fat and lazy? Because I sure as shit didn't have this sort of stuff going on when I was.
Let's just look at the list, shall we? Since September, I've been inflicted with:
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT?
To quote a great film, "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" If there was any justice in the world (and my clients weren't raging arseholes who can't pay me on time), I would have been at Fiddler's Green dancing at the masquerade ball, instead of lying on a hospital bed with an oxygen mask, hydro-cortisone dripping into my arm and lips that looked like the bastard mutant offspring of Angelina Jolie and a gelfling from The Dark Crystal.
I'm going from the sublimely ridiculous to the potentially fatal!
I'm sure you're thinking, "But, my child, that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." Yeah, right, as long as I have a good supply of steroids and immediate medical intervention.
And, as if I don't need to suffer further indignities, you make me allergic to fucking MANGOES? Sweet skateboarding Christ! What crack are you smoking? You take the most divine fruit in all of creation, one that I have been eating all my life, one that I wait all year for, for their delicate perfume and delicious flavour and the almost erotic experience of eating, and you make me fucking ALLERGIC to them?
You couldn't make me allergic to something like Brussels sprouts or liver or olives or any of the dozens of things I DON'T like. No, it has to be something else I adore, because, you know, denying me pistachios wasn't heartless enough.
You utter, utter, UTTER fucking bastard!
What the fuck sort of lesson am I supposed to be learning here? How is this shit supposed to make me a better person? Because, you know, call me stupid, but I'm just not getting this. How about clarifying this for me, because it's utterly mystifying me right now.
I'm tired. I'm run down. I'm doing my best to take care of myself. Yet all I get is one medical issue after another. The frustration and anger about this is boiling like dark lava inside of me.
I'm fucking PISSED about this!
It's all so random and they're all things that any healthy person can suffer from, but there's no rhyme or reason to any of it. Some of it isn't even treatable. I mean, this is my second brush with anaphylaxis and if you'd be kind enough to explain to me how my apparent allergy to pistachios extends to this new apparent allergy to mangoes works, I'd really appreciate it. You know, so I can manage to not SUDDENLY DIE from eating another one of my other favourite foods.
Edit: A quick googling has revealed that mangoes and pistachios ARE related, along with cashews, poison ivy and poison oak. They all belong to the Anachardiaceae family. Great, I don't even LIKE cashews...
I know, shit happens. But I've had enough. No more. You're supposed to be in charge, well here's how it's going to work from now on. No more medical problems for me. None. This is it. You've done your dash. No correspondence entered into.
I'll treat this lot, I'll see a naturopath and an immunologist and get acupuncture and therapy and take my meds and I'll get better.
And then we're done.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have a lie down. I've had a bit of a rough 24 hours.
What Reg said.
*hugs*
I really was a fairly healthy girl til April. Now...well, if you read my journal, you've seen the battles. And we get to go do more blood work and find out about the infection that won't go away all within the next 24.
I'm doing a good impression of a small yapping dog on speed, apparently.
So yes, I do know the *what the fuck* feeling rather intimately at this point.
*shakes head*
We're in our 30s, for fuck's sake. This isn't supposed to be happening to us now.
Someone is laughing at all of this. Someone with the worst sense of humour of all times.
Be better.
keep taking care of yourself. some times you do have to just tough things out and continue to answer your mail, pay your bills and sleep regular hours. I have to stick to that practice when things are painfully complicated.
Despite everything, you look fabulous. I imagine that a lot of problems are from poisons that have been building up in your body for a long time finally working their way out of the system. Continue taking care of yourself and they'll eventually be gone. You are young and strong.
But you are getting older. Most of my friend who are in their mid-30s to early 40s are just now discovering a plethora or new health issues that did not need management earlier - or maybe they just weren't made aware of them. The most common is the cholesterol issue. We all ate too much bacon and butter as youngsters, I suppose, or our family gene pools aren't what we'd like them to be.
And personally, I can't think of a member of the Anachardiaceae family that I can't live without.
As one friend of mine puts it, sometimes you just have to allow yourself to lie on the floor and be wretched.
Many love you and admire you.
kind of an odd time to say 'allo... found ya from searching for me netnick... saw the pictures, and you look gawd-damned incredible, and if i may be so selfish as to steal your success for my inspiration, i will do so... and i can be damned selfish...
but what i want to say more is that sometimes things just work out badly... sometimes it just rains frogs for no reason, and usually just when you have a picnic packed... for me, the diety in question is usually eris, but i like my dieties to come pre-packed with a mean streak...
but what i'm still dancing around is that i wish you warm fuzzies, that though it seems like an endless march of spit, there's always an end to it, usually when uppity dieties get bored and wander off... and from reading the bits and pieces hereabouts it seems like you'll make it through, especially if you let down your hair and rant when you need to...
okaythanksbuhbye...
Okay.
I wasn't go to tell you, but it's time.
Waaaay back in the deep dark recesses of my archives, I have a full 55 gallon drum of pure, concentrated BISS extract.
It's all yours.
Get better, damnit. Because I said so.
You know me well enough, Tree, to know that I don't credit God with the positives or negatives in my life. For me God is there to give me the strength I need to get through all the shite I get into in this life.
A couple of weeks ago I saw this kind of hoaky movie full of romance and characters that give thanks to God. One of the characters is not pleased with God and rants that she doesn't believe in a God who lets all these horrid things happen to us. The very patient and impossibly loving hero explains quietly that as a parent, he could be walking right beside his child and that child could fall and get hurt. He didn't let it happen, it just happened. What he can do is be there to give comfort.
A little too smarmy, maybe and probably way too simplistic, but think about it Tree. If life has any meaning, maybe one is that we are here to learn how to deal with living in these ridiculously frail biological bodies. I think part of learning to live with them is accepting that they are ridiculously frail.
And I do think that maybe when you lost all that weight, the stress and change did mess up your chemistry. It just needs time and care to re-align it to a level where you don't feel so nutty.
I hope this doesn't sound too preachy, because it is meant to be a big literary hug.
Due to the amount of comment spam I'm receiving on old entires, comments are now closed for this entry. Please feel free to add a comment on a more recent post or drop me an email!
I've always preferred the expression "What does not kill me makes me stranger." but you're right, the joke isn't funny any more.
You anmd Randi should sit down some time and compare notes about the universe's sick sense of humour as your luck seems to be running the same way as hers over the last twelve months or so.
Know that I am sending warm fuzzy thoughts your way and keeping my fingers crossed that you won't suddenly develop an allergy to Kilkenny.
Speaking of, if you feel like catching up for a talk and retail therapy session , I'm up for the weekend after next.