Naked Fear

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Good morning, hello, and all that crap.

I was not brilliant yesterday. Ran full tilt for about 2 hours after writing and then fell asleep. It was that full exhaustion sleep, too. The kind of exhaustion when I can feel an almost giddy rush as my body relaxes and begins to sleep. Thank the Goddess! She’s resting!! Down for 40 minutes, the nap effectively cut my day in two. It also gave me enough oomph to head downtown for the evening. Popped into a Turkish restaurant my bro & I like for some dinner and a chat with the owner. Then it was just wandering around, enjoying the soft air and looking at the all the cool buildings. A very enjoyable evening, and one I wouldn’t mind recreating a few more times.

Somehow I’ve screwed up my wrist. Fuck if I know how. Well…I DO know how. It’s the damned RA fucking with my life again. I just always want to point to something I’ve done when I have pain. Oh, it happened when I picked this up or when I gestured like that. Truth is, it just happens out of the blue. I could put my wrists into casts and never move them and still have this flipping problem.

Have I mentioned in the last 5 minutes how much I hate this disease?

Did a quick scan of the headlines this morning. I see everyone is still acting like a horse’s ass. The older I get, the more I think any and every public service job – including Presidential and Prime Minister roles – should be filled on a rotational basis like jury service. Everybody should have to put in a minimum of 2 years. We’d probably get better leaders out of it. What’s happening now is a joke. A BAD joke.

Tell me again how I shouldn’t let it upset me.

Well. I oftentimes feel humanity is the cockroach of the mammals. Kind of disgusting and not the thing other mammals really want around. If that’s actually true, then humanity will go on no matter what. There. Worries put to bed. Restless little bastards, to be sure. But they’re in their damned room.

Right. Reality check. One: it’s foggy outside. It’s BEEN foggy outside and very, very humid. That’s enough to set off my RA, so I should get off my back (and start bitching about the weather). Two: I know my double yesterday with a shot of espresso screwed up my normal timing. I’m all discomboobulated and turned around. That’s why I’ve got today to try to get myself back on track. Three: Whatever happens, I already know where I want to ride it out – right here. And whatever paranoia wants to tell me, I’m in the system. In fact, I found out yesterday that I am one of 40 people with a pink ID card. Yes, I had to ask what the big deal about a pink ID card is. Apparently, they’re the new thing. An all access back stage pass to the EU. It almost doubles as a passport (almost! not quite). I can go anywhere with this baby. They’re very difficult to get, though. The administrative process for them has been in place for several years, but only 40 have been issued. I guess this is what we paid thousands to solicitors for. All I’ve been told is it’s a gold pass, hard to get, and proof that I’m a fully accepted EU almost-citizen. Still some hoops to get through, but it wouldn’t be easy to kick me out at this point.

g;ieurty;k;

I am a big puddle of mush.

Sitting here going thru my tasks for the day. Run over there, do that. Come back, devote time to language study. Pick this up and take care of that. Gods! Just trying to order my mind into the most efficient pattern so I use as little energy as possible is tiring. Gonna do REAL well out there today.

And DAMN!! I want to smoke. I’m fucking exhausted sitting here and I want to smoke.

My brother brought up more counseling yesterday. More counseling for moi. He admits I’ve been doing pretty good lately, but still thinks I need some mood stabilizer. He also pointed out how my mood fluctuates with my RA. That should be a no brainer. Put me in pain for long enough and how happy do you THINK I’ll be? And how often do I bitch about this disease? A lot. It’s with me every minute of every day, so I’ve got a lot to bitch about. I kind of feel like I went car shopping and walked away with a lemon. My body is the car and I sure as fuck wish the manufacturers would honor their warranty. This sucks.

Chronically ill. Disabled.

There’s gonna come I time when I just have to accept that and stop fighting it, I think. Every time my mind skirts the subject it screams yes BUT NOT YET! So let me ask that part of me that’s screaming: If not now, when? How often do we have to get up in pain before we’re gonna accept it? How often will we live a half life, getting exhausted after a bit of cleaning or a few hours of walking before we say yes, this is it? Do we REALLY have to take ourselves down to not being able to walk at all, not being able to pick up a fork to feed ourselves, before we say we have a disability? Really? Because we’ve already been there. We’ve already had to have help getting on and off the toilet. Aren’t we AT that point, haven’t we BEEN at that point for quite some time?

If we accept it, we’ll stop fighting. And if we stop fighting, we’ll die.

Yep. That’s it. I barely finished typing the words before I reached to roll a J (which I didn’t, btw).

That’s a big goddamn obstacle.

No wonder I don’t want to accept it.

Well. Time to unveil the statue of naked fear.

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