It's six a.m; I'm so tired/The alarm sounds, a new day begins

I really don't want to go on about how work went this morning, except that I am proud to say that for perhaps the first time in my life, I did not cave in to authority when it was wrong, and I stood my ground and explained my standpoint--namely, that I called in sick because I was in too much pain to walk straight. I don't think she believed me, but the letter from my doctor that had been faxed over earlier helped, I think.
I spent all day yesterday hiding in bed, because two days away from the IV's hurt too much. Which is a bad sign. I'm actually in craploads of pain now, too--I haven't had my happy baggie of meds yet (not for another half hour, grawr), but I made myself go to work because I need the money to pay off the copay for the CT scan I had to have to prove it wasn't a brain tumor and to pay off the happy baggies of meds because my parents, though they "don't begrude me this" are refusing to help pay for it (so I'm wondering where the "begrudging" bit came from), for reasons that will only start another rant. I'm grateful that I've been at REM long enough now that I can do everything there by rote, otherwise I'd have been screwed. Anyway, I didn't go back to bed to hide again because if I had I know I would have ignored that hateful alarm clock and problems would have arisen. Or should I say Problems? Anyway, it's off to the doctor for me now. Yay for the happy baggie, though I will end up looking like a heroin junkie by the end of the week, with my arms covered in needle marks and bruises.


When the stars threw down their spears/Shattered heaven with their tears

It's supposed to snow tomorrow. I'm very excited about it. Maybe it will snow on my birthday, too, which would be a wonderful present *hint hint* (though I'm not sure who I'm hinting at, to be honest). I love snow. It's white and it's cold and it's fluffy and it's pretty. It makes everything better, somehow. Granted, it's also wet and can get brown and slushy, but I'm far enough north where it doesn't get slushy till March. I can live with that.
Unfortunately the snow is not supposed to stick, given that it's only supposed to be forty degrees out tomorrow. I don't mind too much, although a good proper snow would be nice.
My head doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, though I've been popping Tylenol left and right whenever I woke up today....although, granted, I woke up at eight this morning, took two Tylenol, ate a bowl of cereal, and went back to bed, thinking I'd get up around noon...next time I roll over and look at the clock, it says seven-oh-eight, and I think, "that can't be right, it must be broken." Then I realise: pee-em, you idiot. I slept all day.
Which is huge, because until this past week with the IV's I haven't been sleeping much without taking lots of sleeping pills. So this is kind of nice, being able to catch up on my sleep and whatnot. And there's always the reassuring knowledge that my doctor reminded me that it was perfectly okay for me to head on over to the emergency room if I needed to. Ugh. More needles. When I was younger the mere sight of a needle gave me screaming fits, and now here I am looking forward to my daily (well, not currently daily, but you know what I mean) sticking with an inch-long needle. How things change as we age, what?
Aren't you proud of me? A reasonably lengthy entry, and no ranting today. (Granted, I'm still tired--I'm going back to bed now--but still, be proud. BE PROUD, DAMMIT!)


This temple will cave in/There's nothing here worth saving

Just a couple of quick thoughts: Everything smells musty, which is, I think, a side effect of the pain. Pain does funny things to a person.
Second thought, which may or may not be a bit more controversial than me thinking everything smells musty: we are who other people make us. I don't mean after we become adults, though even then to an extent we are altered by those around us; I mean that our very personalities, our beings, who we are is shaped by those around us.


Falling and crawling/A fight to stand up

More IV's today. And more tomorrow. None the day after, though, because it's Saturday and the doctor's office is closed. Which means by the time Monday rolls around I'll be in screaming agony, unless I'm very, very lucky. Which is unlikely because we all know how lucky I am. Well, no, that's a lie, because I got very lucky when I found Nate.
My psychiatrist is, I think, growing frustrated with me, because my mood is not improving. (not including this week from hell) It's been a steady 2 out of 10, with one being 'I'm going to shoot myself" and ten being "I'm fine", since I got out of hospital back in June. Not better, not worse, which in some ways is good--means the mood stabilizers are at least slightly doing their jobs--but at the same time it means nothing if I feel this crummy all the freaking time. The only time I felt remotely better was when I was with Nate, but...I think that was, a great deal of it anyway, the novelty of it, and if I had him around me all the time I would slide back down to a two. She attempted to comfort me with a story about how the other day one of her clients finally found the right medication--after forty years. I can't wait another thirty years like this. It's hard enough to make it through a freaking day.
Sorry, I don't mean for this thing to turn into a "boo-hoo, pity me, I'm so sick and miserable" because, for the most part, I'm either coping or learning to cope. Right now, I'm learning to cope. I think I bitch here because I have no one else to bitch to.
Thanks for listening.


I am weak/But believe me when I softly speak

Relapse late last night, worse than ever. Guess I just spoke too soon. I'm exhausted...I never thought pain was physically draining. I'll write more tomorrow, if I'm feeling better.


And the promises/They may or may not have made

No brain tumor. I was scared, yesterday. I have to admit. Absolutely terrified...I mean, come on. Your doctor may only be following protocol but still--there's a chance you could have a freaking brain tumor and that's a REALLY BIG DEAL. A really scary big deal. But I'm okay now.
I'm also better now. I went back to the doctor's this morning after work--which was awful, by the way. They pulled people from elsewhere to help me, even though therewere only two clients for me to get ready this morning. You know the sad part? I could barely do anything this morning. Even with help. I was so out of it...So my coworkers made an Executive Decision (because Office Staff has, of late, not been showing up on time) and sent me home a half-hour early and had one of the night attendants stay late. Anyway, I went back to the doctor who gave me an IV of something and....it worked. I mean, I still have a headache, but it's very mild--as in, I can just ignore it and I'm fine. I haven't felt this way in ages. I'd jump about with glee, but I'm afraid of bringing the headache back. So I'll just sit quietly and be happy.


If my words have forked no lightning/Never shall I sleep again

Just a quickie because I'm going to sleep for awhile. I came back from my (first ever!) CT scan just now...we'll see how things are either later today or tomorrow. My dad, after hearing how bad the Headache got (the vomiting, passing out, etc) while he was away made an Executive Decision and took me to the doctor, who quizzed me on various things, tested me on other things, injected me with something that was supposed to make the pain stop (it made the pain less, a little--down to almost an 8, which is non-vomit-inducing level [sorry for the graphic image]), but all it really did was make my hip hurt. My dad asked me why I seem(ed) to be revelling in my misery/illness/whatever, and I explained to him that it was either that or cry. Upon which I started crying. Which made my head hurt worse, which I didn't think possible.
And now I'm going to bed.


If I could be your angel/Protect you from the pain

This past week has been hard. Not just from the Headache (which made me throw up this morning), but...in some ways visiting Nate was a bad idea. It reminded me of how completely alone I am here. I have no friends here, none. It's odd, I mean...Ok. I'm a misanthrope. I don't like people. It's not that I dislike people in general, it's that I dislike most people specifically. The vast majority of people. But even I know that I need friends, or at least acquaintances, or something. Even if it's just once a month, once every two months, someone to spend even half an hour with in a social manner. Just having that option. And I don't even have that. I've got my parents, who resent me because they see me as a testament to failure (I'm not, and resent the implication, but whatever) and my siblings, who are (respectively) 18 and struggling with his own problems, and fifteen and therefore too young to be burdened with my problems. So guess what I do? When I really need to bitch, I hunt down my sister and burden her with my problems. I'd bang my head on my desk at this point, except my head is already killing me and I doubt I'd remain conscious and I have to be at work in forty-five minutes.
Which is a handy seque into work. I don't like my job. I'm not keen on some of my coworkers, and a couple of the clients really tick me off, but for the most part I'm ok with them. It's the management that really bugs me. They're looking out for the bottom line (read: money) instead of the best interests of the clients, and that infuriates me. I don't have enough time to rant about this, though, so on to other things.
I got my hands on Anti-Meridian a few days ago, which is the third and (very sadly) final album by Brave Saint Saturn. While Within Temptation remains my favourite band, BSS is definitely my second--has been for a very long time. You know how most bands take at least a year, usually more, to write an album? Their first, which is my favourite of the three (though the third is working its way up there) was written in three weeks...and it's got the only song that I've ever heard that's ever made me cry.
Anyway, in my very first blog, which was definitely more lighthearted than this one, I would occasionally post poems and song lyrics; and I think that I'll post the lyrics to one of the songs from Anti-Meridian. It's called These Frail Hands.

In this broken place where I was born
It seems there is no peace,
And the very soil that we walk upon
Is filled with tears that never cease,
And you can trace the scars of hopelessness
Like sweat upon the backs
Of all the outcast downtrodden,
Water slipped through cracks
Hold on,
Hold tight
And I am overwhelmed
With grievousness and suffering,
For those who lack the voice to speak
For those of us left uttering
Pain does not prevail,
Dear Lord,
Your love will never fail
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
When the concrete of the world
Becomes too cumbersome to lift,
And the cataracts of fear and doubt
Cloak truth beyond what we can sift
And darkness, darkness breeds its way,
When crippling anguish clouds our sight,
The ghosts of dusk can’t bear their teeth,
Set their claws to bring the night
Hold on,
Hold tight
Darkness can’t perceive
The light, the likeness
This has shield from,
And though its wings may shroud the skies,
The dark shall never overcome
Light of the world,
Your love
Has never failed
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
I need your love,
And most of all I want to feel your peace,
I need your love,
Let everything that you are not decrease,
And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen for us their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed
I need your love,
And most of all I want to feel your peace,
I need your love,
Let everything that you are not decrease.

And that's all, for now.


And I am overwhelmed/With grievousness and suffering

Kinda hard to believe the title came from Reese Roper, but it did...you know, Roper of Five Iron Frenzy. I got into them in junior high and high school. They were fun without crossing the line into the offensively enthusiastic, and the musicianship was good. Plus, live, the stage presence was pretty good, too. But then in high school a friend gave me a song called Space Robot Five, and it sounded eerily like Roper's voice, so I checked around, and discovered Brave Saint Saturn, his little side project. It's basically the dark side of FIF--they deal with the dark, depressing side of life, issues like death, depression, war, and so on. Oddly enough, every time I listen to songs like 229 and Starling, I feel uplifted, even though there's not a whole lot in the songs themselves to encourage you. I guess it's just nice, no; beyond nice to know that you're not alone out there.
Which brings me to my second point. Apparently my dad's friend's wife, who I've known since I was four, is bipolar. She's bipolar one, and doesn't have any other issues, but still. I asked him for her address, because I need someone to talk to about this, because with each day that passes I feel more and more isolated, more and more alone, more and more scared of having to live every day with this. Nate and M. have helped me so much with the loneliness, but this is something deeper than they have been able to reach, and I'm hoping that she can, maybe, at the very least, point me in the right direction.
Wish me luck.


Never opened myself this way/Life is ours, we live it our way

I've reached a couple of conclusions; I need to get hold of M. on Monday or Tuesday.
I was very nearly ill when I got home this morning from the Headache. Someone at work asked me what was wrong, and I told her, and she asked if I had tried any nontraditional methods...I'm definitely leaning that way. There's a very highly regarded acupuncturist just down the street. When the 'rents get back I think I'll talk to them about trying it. I can barely stand up anymore, it hurts so bad. It's becoming ridiculous. My doctor asked me, when I went in to see him about it, if I had noticed any tingling in my hands or feet, and when I asked him why, he said it was because it could be a sign of something worse than a migraine. I've started paying more attention, and I've noticed tingling in my hands and feet, but I don't know if I'm just making them up out of paranoia, or if they're really happening, or if I'm making them happen out of fear, or what.
I showed some of my trip photos to my coworkers, and I'm not sure if I should be offended or amused that they all seemed surprised that he was cute. (They all said, "He's very attractive" or something similar in a surprised voice. Well, no, not all. The creepy guy said nothing. He just stalked off.) Oh, well. I happen to agree that Nate is very attractive, but then again, I'm also terribly biased in his favour. He could run over a puppy and it wouldn't dent things. Granted, this is me we're talking about and I'm not terribly sympathetic towards the puppies-and-kitties set.


I got back Sunday. Yes, yes, I know I promised I'd post when I got back, but I was tired and the Headache (which I almost successfully mostly ignored while with Nate) returned with a vengeance...I kinda sorta passed out for a little tiny bit on Wednesday morning while I was getting ready for work, so I didn't go to work. Don't panic, it was only for a couple of minutes--I checked the clock. It's the first time it happened, and I didn't get hurt or anything, so I don't think it's a big deal. I found out that the migraine meds, while reputed to be super-effective, take a freaking MONTH to start working, which is why I'm still in bleep-loads of pain. I'm slowly destroying my liver with the enormous quantities of Advil and Tylenol it's taking to maintain functionality, but...at least I'm still functioning. Right? Right?
Ok, on to my story of the trip. The vast majority of it is none of your business, because I don't want to post details of my relationship with Nate all over the Internets. But I will say this--it was wonderful. Every single part of it, even the part where the car broke down and we were stuck on the side of the road in eighty degree weather for forty-five minutes. God, I've gotten sappy. I will, however, to soothe your voyeuristic souls, post three pictures. Two are of Nate and I, and one is of a gift he gave me--something he bought me (apparently awhile ago) at a Ren fair.

This necklace is the kind of thing I'd look at and walk away from regretfully, thinking, "I love it, but I just couldn't possibly justify it..." I absolutely love it. I don't wear it to work, and it kills me not to, but...if a client grabbed it and it broke, I'd probably burst into tears and cry for quite a while. Keep in mind, though, that on the rare occasions that I do cry, it never lasts longer than 30 seconds. And even that's pushing it.

Next picture: Me and Nate. Or Nate and I. Whichever.

I'm grinning like an idiot, but what can I say? He makes me happy.

Last picture. Also me and Nate, or Nate and I.

So I know I said I was nervous about seeing him again for the first time in years, etc, etc. And I was. Terrified. But...when I saw him, actually saw him, waiting at the airport, it was like all of the fear flew out the window (and at airports they have very large windows). The only way to describe the change is...ok, have any of you read Sunshine? Lovely book, dark, about vampires. Anyway, the main character, Rae, at one point has her own personal magic-handling capabilities change in her, and she describes it as a settling-down, as a filling. And that's what I felt. A settling-down, a filling. A rightness. Visiting Nate was the right thing to do. It had to be done. For the time being, at (the very) least, we belong together.
And I'm not scared anymore.


Interlude of choice...

So I'm leaving in an hour or so for the airport; I probably won't be posting for a few days. See you when I get back!


With all the hope that I could beg or borrow/I can't wait, can't wait for tomorrow

Sooooo...tomorrow's the day. *gulp* Not that I'm nervous or anything. I mean, come on. Me? Nervous? Never! *passes out from nerves*
Ok, so I admit it. I'm terrified that something will go horribly wrong and the weekend will be awful. And I'm embarassed to admit it, but a tiny little part of me almost hopes that it will, because I'm still so convinced that I am unlovable.
ANYway. Not much else to say, except..*gulp* Alright. I really ought to go pack...


Like a thief in the night/It can control you

I sang today, for the first time in a very long time, for someone other than myself. I sang for my sister. We were talking about her German class, and about how if she has to do an oral presentation for her final, she should translate a song and perform it. I suggested one that she'd never heard, or even heard of, so I sang it for her. It's an...interesting song. Very pretty melody, very funny words; it's called "I am Cow."
I've been trying to cut down on the "self-injury" (though it doesn't hurt, and isn't that kind of a qualifier for injury?) lately, and it's been extraordinarily difficult. Those of you who know me have, I think, become almost used to seeing me with red marks on my arms, and to a much smaller extent my face; it's been basically an essential part of me for so long now I can't remember not ever doing it. I think it started about twelve years ago, so...half my life, almost. I tried to stop completely a while ago, and ended up doing more damage without even noticing until afterwards. It's not something I think I'll ever be able to stop completely--there has to be some physical way for me to manifest my stress and agitation. I think the best I can hope for is less frequent, less visible, and more localised. But we'll see.
And now I'm off to bed, because I'm really really tired.


Anywhere I roam/Where I lay my head is home

Just thought the title was especially appropriate, since I've never had a home. *pities self for a moment* Okay, moving on.
Short entry tonight, as I'm in a relatively significant amount of pain and want to go to bed. No, no, the Headache didn't come back. Well, okay, yes, it did, but not because it just arbitrarily decided to overcome the meds and attack me again. No. This morning an eight-foot-high, solid-wood bookcase fell on my head. Or, more accurately, one of the sharp corners did. My coworkers and the nurse at work all reassured me that the dent that has formed in my skull because of said bookcase falling on my head will disappear in a couple of days. All of this background to explain why the effing migraine came back.
I was doing a bit of reading today, (as usual) and it struck me that there aren't many, if any, known famous borderlines. There are presumed borderlines, but it could just be somebody with a nasty temper or who was very spoilt as a child and never grew up. Not to mention none of the well-known borderline portrayals by Hollywood are very accurate. Take Fatal Attraction, for example. It's classic borderline behaviour, except most borderlines--not all, but most (which is an important distinction) don't act that aggressively towards others. It's like...okay. Take Glenn Close's behaviour towards Michael Douglas. Instead of her being so aggressive towards him, imagine her directing all that behaviour inwards towards herself, taking out all the hurt and pain--which is entirely sincere, by the way; she's not manipulating him out of a sick need to be cruel, she really does feel like she needs him--on herself. Although, if pushed far enough, the alternate ending is entirely plausible.
It's just...it's hard, and it's frustrating, and I feel like I can't really talk to anyone about it because they don't understand it and it's not like I can explain it to them because I don't have a very good grasp on it myself. I mean, how do you explain how you work, how you function, how you are, to someone whose perspective is so wholly different?
Eventually, when I have time and motivation and am pain-free, I will give a discourse, or a ramble, or maybe even a rant, on the theory of "I hate you, don't leave me." Which, actually, makes complete sense to me.


I'll know it by the feeling/The moment that we're meeting

Sorry it's been so long. I'm not sure if you've been worried or indifferent, either way, I'm back. I know you care that I'm back, at least, because you're actually reading this. So. Not sure where I was going with that.
The Headache basically came back with a vengeance and knocked me flat on my back, enough to nearly knock me unconscious. I've only ever hurt that bad before once, when some internal stitches ruptured about a week after my surgery. Anyway, I made it to the doctor (a different doctor this time, my regular doctor) who asked me a few questions and told me I have bilateral migraines. Which explains why I didn't originally think the Headache was a migraine, because aforementioned migraines tend to focus on one part of the head, whereas mine was all over at the same time. Anyway, it's mostly better now. Not completely, but for usually 18 or 20 hours a day I'm fine. Which is a HUGE relief.
My tooth got fixed, too. Just a little aside there.
I'm trying not to let my excitement and nerves get the better of me. So far, so good, but by Thursday morning I'll probably be a twitchy wreck. Ugh.
The work drama continues. The client who's been in and out of the hospital for the past eight weeks got home last Friday (not the most recent one, but the one before that), had a psychotic break and went back to the hospital the next day. He came back again this past Thursday, with nothing changed except for an increase in his Ativan levels, which won't do him ANY good when he starts seeing snakes coming out of his throat like he did last time, except maybe he won't freak out and instead he'll be all, "oh, look, snakes. Cool." Anyway, on Saturday morning he freaked out again so he went BACK to the hospital. Again. In the past eight weeks he's been home for six days. I wish the office staff (composed primarily of idiots) would quit thinking about funding and just do the right thing, which is put him in the state hospital where they can keep him safe while they fix whatever's wrong with him. But, of course, I'm a lowly night attendant. Why would anyone ever listen to me, even though what I have to say is freaking common sense? I give up.
On to another issue. I was told last night by a coworker that I have the body of a calendar girl. I thanked her, and didn't crack up laughing until she was out of earshot. I'm sorry, but...me? Come on. I'm a freaking size eight. Size eights aren't calendar girls. Size fours, maybe. Twos, yes. Eights, no. Plus, I'm not exactly, erm, toned. Okay, fine, I admit it. From the neck down I'm not unappealing. From the neck up is another story. I've never, ever been conventionally beautiful, or even unconventionally beautiful. And I'm actually, finally, becoming okay with that. Because beauty fades. Personality, however, is forever, and I've got personality in freaking spades. I'm better at charming people with who I am than with how I look. Actually, until I started playing WoW I'd only ever had one guy hit on me, and that was Aaron. But when people couldn't see me, but just talk to me and hear me, things changed a lot. I grew so much more confident, because I realised that, yes, personality does in fact matter. Looks aren't everything.
Ironically, it was after I figured that out that my boobs finally decided to expand alarmingly to full-D size. I'm a bit worried about buying more bras, though, because every time I do, I go up another size. I'm not too keen on that, really.
What else? Oh, yes. Because I'm stupid, I bought a shirt that lights up. Don't ask. When I get the time I'm going to operate and remove the bits that light up, and maybe jump on them a bit, just for fun.
I got Chalice in the mail, but I'm saving it for the plane ride. Only McKinley could hold my attention, but I might actually just end up sleeping, because my dad is being very stubborn and a bit stupid and refusing to drive me to the airport himself and rather is making me do it. Normally I'd be thrilled, because I love to drive, but there's a slight...ok, more than slight problem. I'll be coming off a night shift. As in, I will have been up for quite some time, and will have to stay up for quite some time longer. I was kind of counting on being able to nap in the car on the way up, but obviously I can't do that if I'm driving. I wish I was like the thingummy demon from Sunshine that gets all the sleep it needs by blinking its eyes. Wouldn't that be great?