As Good As It Gets

I spend so much time being frustrated at all the things I can't do, especially with the holidays approaching. I want to go out and see all of the sparkly, pretty things. I want to shop for gifts for my daughter. I want the house to be clean! I think what would make me the most happy right now is if the house were clean and decorated and pretty. I have been fantasizing about a pink Christmas. I have become a professional fantasizer, actually. That comes right after being a professional Netflix watcher. Anyway, we have lived in this town home for a little over a year. The living room, if you could call it that, is still full of boxes. We also have a storage room full of stuff. Ninety-five percent of it is my Mom's junk. We need help with the heavy lifting and there's no one to help. Of course, I could pay someone to help, but I don't exactly have any disposable income being on disability. And that's another frustration. I can't say to myself that this is a temporary situation. I can't tell myself that when I get a job, things will be better. This is it, baby. Unless someone finds a cure, this is my life forever.

I often get flashes of how my life was before. I think about the things I used to be able to do that I can't do anymore. Little dumb things, like washing my car and going to the movies. My life is in my bed. These days, I only go out when I have a medical appointment. I order in food way too much because buying and preparing food is a tremendous task. I'm still a vegetarian but I am eating like crap.

My Mom has had some health problems of her own lately. She may have rheumatoid arthritis or fibromyalgia. She's in pain most of the time and doesn't do anything around the house. Of course, even before this she wasn't exactly Martha Stewart, but I could rely on her for some things. My daughter has never been taught to do anything because I have always waited on her. I am slowly trying to teach her things but I don't want her to be my caretaker. She shouldn't have to take care of me. I just want to take care of myself and my daughter and being robbed of that privilege is almost as painful as the neuropathy.

Crazy

Having the distraction of a boyfriend really took my pain level down. Now that he's gone, the pain level is back up. Dammit! I realized it while it was happening, that I felt better, so at least I will have the memory of it. However, not being in as much pain, or realizing how much pain I am in, is not worth having another boyfriend, at least not the type I seem to attract. I've been reviewing all of my past relationships in my head, from the serious to the fling-only, and I'm questioning my mental state in all of them. I used to question my own sanity, but I need to give myself more credit. When I like the good ones, the non-crazy ones, they don't seem to go for me, though. So, alone I shall be.

Hmmm. My exes. I may be able to get some decent blog entries out of that topic.

My friend George Costanza said it best: "When I like them, they don't like me, when they like me, I don't like them."

Misanthropic Moments

For all my bitching and moaning about wanting someone to love me, to have a boyfriend, it finally happened. For about six weeks. In true 'Leslie Fashion," it moved pretty fast. We were saying "I love you" in the second week. I met his family and I loved them (and adored his sister) and spent several nights a week with him and it was pretty passionate. He helped me get up stairs. He understood my limitations. He was super intelligent, but so depressed that he made me look like Miss Mary Sunshine. I never knew what mood he would be in. He was addicted to playing games (board games, something I didn't even know people did anymore) and distracted himself from his real life problems by playing games all day. I did love him. My pain level went down when we were together and he told me how happy I made him. I decided to approach him about his depression. His response was to break up with me and now he won't even speak to me.

                                                                           

Whenever a love affair ends, my ego is the first part of me to react.  I had fully prepared myself to break up with him if some things didn't change, but instead, I got dumped, and I'm sad about it. I miss him, but I know my ego is suffering more. I was a good girlfriend. We got on well together. I was actually getting out of the house and having some fun for a change. And it's completely unfair that he is shutting me out and won't even explain himself to me. His personality has totally changed. We used to discuss things and now I have been taken out of the loop. And my ego is saying, who is HE to dump ME? This drives me to try to contact him and try to win him back, even though I am not sure I want him anymore. I will stand by him through depression, but to shut me out and stop speaking to me is unacceptable. I deserve better, whether I have neuropathy or not. And to reiterate what I said in my last post, I would rather be alone. I get attached to people so easily. I HATE that about myself. How do I change that?

I need to be successful at something. I need something for me. I have been speaking to an old friend who is an illustrator about a writing project. I need something for myself and to make myself happy.

Into The Wild Again

I want to be the master of my own happiness, but I don't know how. I don't want to need anyone. I don't want anyone have control over how I feel.

Into The Wild's Christopher McCandless thinks he doesn't need anyone, but in the end decides "happiness is only real when shared."  While I don't agree with disappearing without letting your parents know if you're dead or alive, I do agree with his philosophy about needing people. Needing someone is wasted energy. After all, no one really wants you to need them, and it is never something upon which you can fully rely, anyway. Maybe being totally self-reliant is my raison d'etre, but when you need so much medical care, that's a nearly impossible feat. I don't want to need medicine or food or cable TV. I most definitely don't want to need love.

I know what makes my engine tick is out there somewhere. It will be a cause or an art form or something beautiful I can explore. But it's not love.

Poor Poor Pitiful Me

I recently joined a Neuropathy discussion group online and WOW. I am not alone. I never really thought I was really alone, but it's very easy to get wrapped up in your own minutia and garbage and feel like you are the only one on the planet who is suffering. I suppose depression adds to that feeling of loneliness and despair. Everything is magnified. But I am learning that there are thousands of people going through the same thing I am, and in some weird universe, it comforts me. I don't want anyone to suffer, mind you, but it gives me the sense that I don't have some obscure disease and no one knows how to treat it and my suffering is unique and more painful than others'. I want to be like one of those cancer survivors who made themselves better. I want to be proactive. Right now I am just letting it all happen to me. There's no cure for what I have, but surely there are things I can do to feel better. Deja vu - have I said this before? So I am taking baby steps and the first thing I am going to do is swim. The pool in my community just opened up. It's free. I don't relish the idea of trying on bathing suits, but I suppose no woman does, except maybe Kate Upton. My friend Traci  told me to get over it, get a suit and enjoy the summer. I need to get my kid out of the house too because she is not taking classes this summer. Let's see if I follow through. I am also going to try to blog more and hope it gets me motivated to write professionally again. My hands definitely hurt while typing, but I could make excuses the rest of my life and it never be discovered that I have something valuable and important to say to the world. See, this was a positive post. How will the next one be?

Detachment

The thing about always feeling like shit is you don't feel like writing. You don't feel like doing anything. I'm following that instinct.

Done

It's 1:35am and I am mad at the world. I am not always this way, but right now I am. I am so sick of hurting all the time. I am so sick of not being able to do anything. Screw being able to have pleasure, I can't even do the every day things that need doing. It's not fair. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to my child. I just know I am being punished for something. I've asked God to forgive me for whatever I have done, but the pain is still here. Why am I still in so much pain? And how long can this go on? Usually when someone is in this much pain, they either die or get better. But the pain just keeps getting worse and I'm still here.