Chaotic Insanity

 Hey. It's been a while. I'm an aunt, now, heh. My sister Heather had a baby girl, named Ellie.

I missed her birth, because I was in the ER. It was there that they found something interesting, later confirmed by my family doctor: I've lost 20kg in 4-5 months. 

Why? Because I can't eat. I have no appetite. 

Why? Because I am in agony, every day, and it's getting worse. 

Every single pain clinic has dropped me. I have nothing left. Save "do yoga and eat better". I see the joy and happiness die within the eyes of my husband every time he sees me in pain. I can't walk with just a cane, anymore. I'm treated like literal garbage in the hospital. Nobody believes me, anymore. I cannot be a good aunt. I cannot be a good wife. 

So now, they're testing me for HIV and cancer. I checked online, and... save things like prostate cancer, I checked out at about 9/10 for positive general symptoms of cancer. They took my fluids today, and now I have to just sit around and listen to what I know is esophageal cancer eat me alive.

I quit smoking almost a month ago, after almost two years. I started smoking to help alleviate the pain, but by the beginning of this month, it stopped being helpful. I quit, and two weeks later, I'm back in the ER. I've been fainting, throwing up, memory loss, white outs... I also feel sharp knives of pain within my throat, and cough up blood, and I'm so tired all the time. Yet I can't sleep, because it hurts, and I get nightmares. I get winded walking from couch to desk - barely two metres apart. 

This is all my fault, and I know that. I did this to myself. And now, I'm probably on my way out.

It sucks, because I'll be dead with so much left undone: novels, comics, fanfics, fanarts, meeting the people I love around the world... I'll never get to see Ellie grow up...

I didn't try hard enough. The pain kept getting worse, so a 7 this year was a 9 last year, and it gets confusing. I get abandoned in ER rooms, until my IV dries out, and mere saline makes me scream, while I'm being pulled off a bed by a nurse - literally grabbed by the ankles and pulled on - while throwing up and screaming with pain. I see Terry, his eyes die, go darker, fill with tears, frustration... emotions I can't read... 

I know I'm going to lose him, too. He's already so fed up with what we've had to deal with for 8 1/2 years, now. Every time we go to the ER, he looks... his face... and the way he cries, because he blames himself for my being in pain, and... I just... I can't...

People I love, around the world, get ignored by me, because I can't concentrate. I can't be a friend, because all I can think of is the fact that my body is decomposing on the inside. I'll never get to meet them, so why would I waste their time, if I'm just gonna go die on them? I avoid them, because I can't face it. I can't tell them. I can't say the words, and not just because I haven't gotten the positive result, yet. 

I'm "one more report of bad news" away from having a nervous breakdown. I'm starting to doubt myself, my pains, my illness, my memories. I'm starting to question how reliable I am as a narrator of my own life. I cry every day, in the shower, abuse my body like it's an onion, peeling the skin away to try and shed myself of this skin of sickness. I can't, and people keep calling me a liar, or histrionic, or stupid, or a weakling. I know I'm weak, and a coward! I don't need anyone to tell me this fucking fact. I'm going to shatter, implode, and it will kill me.

And I'll die with so much left undone, but does that actually matter? I can count on one hand the amount of people who give a shit about my original works, and Terry is not on that list. Not even people who call me their best friend... *sigh* People only like my fanworks, my theft of a smarter person's work, destroying it into what I want it to be, because I'm a selfish, disgusting person. Nobody wants what's from my heart. I haven't written anything for any of my original series in over a decade. Why bother? Nobody fucking cares. I've been drawing an original comic series, for free, and nobody cares. I put my heart and spoons into each panel, and only four people even see it, and one of them is me! 

So I guess what I'm saying is... I probably have cancer. I'm going to die later than I thought, but sooner than I wished. And I'm aware that such a thing means absolutely nothing. Nobody cares. One more dead person, one more online idiot who pretends she is loved when she is unlovable. If it's true, and I do have it... I'm sorry. I'm going to let it win. 

I've proven that I don't deserve this life. Someone better deserves it. Someone who has stories people actually give a fuck about. Someone who was never trapped in a basement, who ate better, who kept her gallbladder, who took care of her baby dog better, who knew how to love and accept love and be able to recognise that it's possible to be loved back...

Someone the exact opposite of me...

Heh. Who cares. I abandoned all of the people here, too. I don't deserve any of it, anyway. 

My stories are shit, and I never deserved the goodness I was given. 

Hey everyone! I thought it would be wise to drop a line and let those of you interested know that I have surgery tomorrow! Yep, they're finally getting rid of my gallbladder. I'm torn on the whole thing, because I fear nothing will happen, and I'll be getting rid of a perfectly good organ that I need. But then, it could be the source of my almost seven-year pain spree, so there's enough there to warrant the risk, I suppose.

Anyway, I'll update again once it's all done and I feel better. I'm sorry I don't update too much here, but Tumblr has my soul and won't give it back.

How are you?

So... I turned 30 on Saturday.

It's not as bad as it sounds. I had a wonderful time out to dinner with my family, and was glad that both of my older sisters could make it.

It just feels weird. I'm 30. But sometimes I feel either 60 or 15. It makes little sense. I certainly don't feel as if I've earned being 30. I haven't had any successes worth being proud of at the moment. My life is, at best, half over now.

All I can do is start to get serious about getting published. I really want to get something out there, anything, other than fanfiction that nobody reads much of and is never taken seriously ANYWAY. But I'm deeply afraid of rejection that will definitely come with trying to get published, and I lack the type of ego that can easily bounce back following rejection after rejection. And yet, if I write nothing, send nothing, nothing will happen. At least a stack of rejection letters shows that I at least tried.

Right?

I guess I should fully update, but save deep thoughts and fluctuating health of myself and my pets, I've got nothing.

I know I've missed a lot while I've been busy pissing away my time on Twitter and YouTube. Tell me what I've missed here, while I try to catch up on my own friends list.

Duuuuurp.

I am mentally ill.

To most people reading this blog, who've read this blog for over a decade, you know this in some way. But it's only lately that I've been able to actually say it frankly, without hesitation, and without shame.

This post will be to the point, detailed, somewhat graphic, and very personal. But I don't care if people know what is going on with me. For the sake of length and possible triggers for suicide, assault, bullying, and self-harm, I will cut this entry, but it stays public.

From here on in, no limits.

( Read more... )

Hello.

It's been quite a long time, hasn't it? How are you all? What's new? What have I missed? I hope nothing bad.

( Read more... )

So, to sum up, I really am still here and around. Just not online. And it was due to fear and loss and both. And I will strive to come online once a week, if just to update my writing (which has been really awesome).

Also, I humble request detailed comments about your own goings-on since I was online last. Even a sentence is okay. I just want to make sure you are all okay, and I think it would take WAY too long to try to read that far back (if I can).

A detailed post following this one will be locked, as it goes into details about personal stuff. So if I have not provided an acceptable explanation, you can probably figure it out from it (maybe). If you are reading this as a public post but would like to know more, just comment here and I will explain as much as I feel comfortable doing so in public. Otherwise, PM me.

Once again, sorry.

And, hello.

Not dead. Just struggling through a really long bout of pain that hasn't gone away.

What did I miss?

Anything you want to know from me?

Anyone with IBS should go here: http://www.helpforibs.com/

As most of you know, I have been struggling with my health for over two years following an appendectomy. I've had many diagnoses, but the main one has always been IBS (one associated with post-surgery). It's been overwhelming confirmed, now, and that's what I'm being treated for.

Recently, I've been struggling with several GI doctors over what to eat, as the traditional diets I've been given actually aggravate my condition. And yet it's the only one I've been given. Over two years of frustration, ER visits, humiliation; thousands of dollars spent on useless medicines, procedures, second opinions; struggling very hard with pain medicines and addiction to them, to the point of terror. And now, the mental toll it has all taken on both mind and body.

Honestly, I wanted to give up.

It was only by chance, when I typed in "IBS diet help" that I found the above website. I found the diet described (both normal and flare-up) and followed it for two weeks.

And I felt normal.

Do you know how amazing that is? People who have always felt normal don't realise just how precious that is. I had forgotten what it felt like. Isn't that terrible? To just forget a feeling of normalcy?

It wasn't a miracle cure. Indeed, I was still in pain. But the pain had dropped significantly, to the point of one day that I woke with no pain at all, and actually wept from the joy of it.

And then I went back to my GI, and was told I was doing it wrong, and to go back on the high fibre diet. All of my problems came back from day one, and I stuck with it for a week before I realised that not only was I still in pain, I needed the pain medicine way more while on this diet.

So now I'm back on the website's diet, and I already feel better.

How often does this happen? That a website ends up being more accurate than an actual doctor, one that is actually really well-renowned? I genuinely do not understand it. But I do understand my body. I've learnt how to. I've had to learn, and what I'm doing right now is what it needs.

What this all pans down to is this:

If you are reading this and you have IBS, or perhaps something that sounds like what I've gone through (abdominal pain out of nowhere, constipation, diarrhea, exhaustion, as well as general disrespect from the medical community due to most or all tests coming back normal), please do yourself a huge favour and check out the website above. Save yourself the time and click on it. The woman in charge knows what she's talking about, because she had to deal with the same bullshit that I and perhaps you have for twenty years. I actually emailed the website, and after an email the owner herself began helping me out, and even gave me links and guidance on how to explain this all to my doctor.

I have never experienced anything like that before.

So, seriously. They are not paying me in any way. They are not giving me things or have told me to pass along word or a plug. This is just me, wanting to help you, in hopes that the bullshit I've gone through never happens to you. That's really all it is.

This morning, I woke up exhausted, but that was my fault since I decided to take a sleeping pill the night before. It worked, mostly, but it does leave me feeling really tired in the morning. Luckily, last night's nausea and pain were mere residues.

I got up, showered and dressed and all of that. After, I found Nim in my room, curled up where I usually sleep. When she saw me come in, she left, but allowed me to hug her before doing so, wagging her tail in a sleepy, crooked circle. Basement Cat Mab made a rare appearance, and she chirped and fell over for me and accepted my affections with no arguments or fear. Milo was a blob at the foot of the stairs, greeting me with a helium meow and a headbutt.

The air outside was crisp and cool - a little grey, but still nice. I couldn't help but feel cheerful, so I was smiling a lot. No one tried to run me over, and lots of people waited for me to cross the street, even smiling back when I smiled and waved in gratitude.

I walked past a woman on my way from the bank, with my head tilted back and looking at the clouds. She saw me looking up and said jovially, "It looks like that might be coming, soon."

For a split second I was unsure of what she meant, but then I got it and I grinned, placed my finger to my lips and said, "Shh, it'll hear you and then it'll happen!"

We both laughed and went on our ways, cheered by our mutual superstition of snow.

My coffee was prepared wonderfully today, nice and sweet. My bagel was delicious.

The store is very quiet, very empty. There isn't much to do, and not a lot of people have come in yet, today.

Right now, there are clouds dark with impending precipitation. In some patches, a glimpse of the sunlight can be seen.

It's a very nice day.

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Stress.

Pain in my gut.

Stress from the pain in my gut.

The assholes across the street when they have loud drunken parties.

Nimue's rancid farts.

So that you know I'm not all about whining:

I got myself weighed proper yesterday. It's confirmed - I've lost 30 pounds over the course of one year. I guess diet and being sick really pay off?

I finished the pics for that project my sister posted about! I mean, they're just sketches, but I'm super excited. My pictures for an official story! Awesome! I can't show them, obviously, but once the final ones are done, I can link them! Hee~

I left my comb at home today. Why would I do this?

I also need a haircut in the worst way. Tomorrow is payday - I shall get it done tomorrow.

Euphoria is confusing but fun. It's been two weeks and it hasn't gone away yet?! I like you, Lyrica.

It's Sexy Maiko Week? I suppose this means I should PROBABLY finished that fruit tart smut I've already taken too long to write...

I'm hungry. And yet I had breakfast? Stop that!

Okay bye.