I left off at hearing the voices of my dead twins. Actually, better termed as Womb Twins for my Category here, Womb Twin Survivor.  I also said I’d try to keep any medical-type stuff out of the (these) post(s.) Sorry! Absolutely necessary.  Plus, absolutely necessary for some talk about my Therapist–and how NOT crazy I am according to her!

*shuffles medical study papers*

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there were two VERY OLD Psychiatrists.  Their names were Vygotsky and Modell.  They both had some ideas of hearing “voices” in your head.

Vygotsky coined the term, “Inner Talk.”  What he meant, was if we said something in our own heads like, “Oh you bloody idiot, you forgot AGAIN!” Then, Modell had a different opinion.  He said, “Hmmm…well, thanks, Vy.  But I think you’re missing something.  There’s something MORE to this.”

So, he went out to find is “MORE.”  How? He grabbed a bunch of Schizophrenics for a study.  Nothing against Schizophrenics, but certainly back then, the best population. “Okay, guys,” he said.  ”LISTEN AWAY!!!”

What happened? MY HEAD FLEW OFF MY SHOULDERS.  Wait. That comes later.  But you might figure out why anyway.

The people in the study certainly heard a lot.  But it was what they heard that was pretty spectacular.  The voices were somehow known to them.  Very familiar and even comforting.  Sometimes, they were literally “familiar” in terms of family members who may have been deceased.  Moreover, they all seemed to be offering guidance; forms of help.

Ever since then, Modell’s version of a “VAH” (Verbal Auditory Hallucination) has been landmarked as the standard since 1980.

On a personal note, I will not say that you can’t deviate from Modell’s VAH.  It’s not carved in stone.  However, it’s carved in something that’s pretty damn solid.  I will also say that Schizophrenics definitely do not always have such “comforting” VAHs! No.

Can you see how my head flew off my shoulders up there? Family. Dead.  Comfort.  My lost Womb Twins.

Of course I brought this to my Therapist! She is excellent.  I am blessed to have her.  I needed a highly targeted Therapist.  One who could help me with my PTSD.  Hell, I can use CBT on myself. And it works! Nonetheless, extremely daunting as who out there can really attack PTSD (not to mention my Dissociative Amnesia of such extreme proportions!)

On the first day we first met, she described how she worked as “eclectic.”  I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.  One meeting and that was it.  Usually it takes several to see if you’re (possibly) a good match!

The twins were already on the table.  Her take?  That was fine.  I wasn’t crazy.  If it was comforting and not harmful to me, that’s great! I brought her Vygotsky and Modell.  Check this out! Her take? WOW! THIS REALLY IS AWESOME PA!

The above, irrespective of Vy. and Mod. could otherwise have me locked up for the rest of my life, in a closet that was just one big pillow!

I’ve told her stuff that will NEVER, EVER be posted on this blog. It’s beyond all comprehension, all sanity and is so confusing! Her take? That sounds SO amazing! It’s like you’re feeling a sense of freedom.  A sense where you don’t have to worry about anyone.  Not anyone else.  You can just BE YOU!

I still don’t get that! Maybe someday I will.  But that’s one part of therapy.

At times, you have to give it up, let it go and fully trust your Therapist.  It doesn’t mean you’re some kind of puppet! But if you’re working on the really intense stuff–that’s when you have to surrender some of yourself–and it can usually be a big part.  Scary at first? Might feel automatic in the future!

So being a Cyborg isn’t so bad at all! At least for me! Although I’m not sure if I still am.  All of the intense fevers that were making me delirious were the result of very bad pneumonia.  I’m now starting antibiotics.

It’s alright.  I once had a Simple partial seizure where I was completely convinced I was a form of AI (Artificial Intelligence.)  I became Data from Star Trek! No, I was a different form.

Did it scare me? Oh my god, no!!! It was the BEST Sensory Simple partial I’ve ever had! I LOVED IT!!!

Oh, right.  I almost forgot.  I said to remember the words logic and psychologicical.  I’m not going to offer any explanations or comments.  You think about them and what I’ve written if you wish.

My GP called me today as she knows I’m now home from hospital. She wanted to see how I was feeling and then for the first time (I believe ever?) had to ask me the same question twice.  Our conversation became a dance entitled: “Tchaikovsky’s WTF?” 

Here is how it went.  I also believe every patron regrets paying a single cent for the performance.  Well, she was very good. Nonetheless, I also believe this was the worst pas de deux in the history of ballet.  Ever.

I made my appearance on stage with the most abhorrent jeté I’ve ever done. Due to that, when I landed I did an unintentional sway back.  I managed to recover and attempted my tendu.  My leg was exactly as high in the air as it should have been.  Fantastic! Not so fantastic? It was so out of pose.  My knee was so bent and twisted, it looked completely sideways toward the audience while I was facing them.  I couldn’t find my foot either. 

Okay.  Let’s call this “Improvisation.”  Not “Car Accident.”

I was hoping everyone was really focussed on my GP doing a wonderful glissade until we became close enough, but not quite enough to embrace.  She held my forearm for a brief pause as the music continued.

I whispered, “Hey, what’s up?”

She said, “They didn’t give you antibiotics for the pneumonia on the X-rays?”

I looked at her strangely and even if the audience noticed my expression, it would have been fine for the pas de deux.

We separated and I made my way through a bourrée en dehors.  I made the circle a lot smaller than it should have been! However, I really didn’t do myself any favours there.  I still had to keep time to meet up again with my GP! I NOW needed to stay on pointe for a lot longer! “En dehors, out the door INDEED!”

I started to wobble.  Did I fail to tie my shoes correctly? Are they too loose? Did someone steal my shoes and leave theirs in my own little, storage space? I looked out of the corner of my eye.  I couldn’t believe what I saw, but most importantly, my GP was going to rescue me!

She had already done several, massive changements that were not in the initial choreography.  They’d never even been considered.  I knew what this meant.  Her changements were a way of getting her frustration out.  Immediately behind me, her arm around my waist for another brief pause.  Only a very slow (thank god!) turn.  I stretched my right arm out in a simple allongé, palm down. The IV puncture in my arm was killing me!

Again, she spoke, “So they really didn’t give you..?!”

I stopped her.  ”They told me the X-rays were just fine!”

Now I know the possible problem.  Perhaps?

I was asymptomatic, but my Immune System (that’s pretty messed up already) somehow REALLY kicked into high gear.  Did it start beating up on a “soon-to-be-sick” PA? Explanation for 11 days of the extremely high fevers, making me go out of my mind and totally delirious?

Well, I’m symptomatic now.  I’ve been coughing and hacking at the barre, in my dressing room, just everywhere.  All day and night.

Now, it was time for me to finish the performance.  I had no clue what to do as I felt myself start to cough.  Shit! Ah, to hell with it.

All they got with Tchaikovsky now booming for my finale was this: a weak échappé demi-pointe, and one more allongé as I could not deal with that needle puncture anymore! I then walked off the stage like a zombie.

Entering the wings as a zombie, I started to hear a lot of applause. I smiled and knew it was for my GP.  She dragged me out to bow, and I did–only because I had become a zombie.  We were both presented with our on stage bouquets, but I looked down and saw flowers.  Red Roses for my GP, White Roses for me.

Someone even brought a very young girl to the stage.  Her hair tied in a tight, ballerina bun and she had a beautiful, lace dress on. She was also holding so many White Roses I was amazed they could fit into her tiny hand!

Too shy to say anything, only a smile.  A man lifted her up so I could reach the flowers.  I leaned close to her ear to thank her and tell her how beautiful she looked.  I shook her hand and then the man placed the concert program with a pen into my hand.  I smiled back at her and signed it.  Now the entire theatre was screaming!

My GP and I took one more bow and exited.  I took the young girl’s flowers with me.  I’ll be sure to smell them every time I have to take all of these antibiotics I have now.

CODA: With great apologies to Suzanne Farrell, Jacques d’Amboise and George if he was still with us today.  Although, if you two somehow read this insanity, you might just dismiss it as, well…insanity!

She might be feeling guilty as she never called me on my birthday in March–so she feels she can’t talk to me at all.  Well, gotta fix that up.  Because I don’t give a bad goddamn fuck about my birthday! So, if this is the ONLY year in my life when it slipped by? Pfft.

She also needs to know I’m sick.  How much I don’t know, possibly getting worse, being shipped off to a Urologist/Nephrologist (from now on I’m just going to use Nephrologist.)  That I don’t know.  I do know I’ll have to make up a new Category: Nephrology.

I haven’t gotten the third round of tests back–C&S (Culture and Sensitivity.)  That’s an uber-drill down for microbial action.  All my fevers, perhaps? Hang on to your thermometers there.  The Ultrasounds? I don’t know those results either.

I should probably make a Serious Med Geek clarification about my first test re: the Creatinine.  I had bloods AND urine done.  This was no doubt the tip off as Creatinine is normally found in urine! I was so totally-out-of-it-sick to explain the problem!

What any decent physician should do, is quickly and easily look at both the Creatine in the urine and the blood.  Compare and contrast the levels in both the urine and the plasma.  This gives you a pretty good idea of the Kidney’s Glomerular Filtration Rate (GFR.)  Mine apparently fell out of range.

Fevers.  I think I should remove “You Give Me Fever” (in whatever form) from my iTunes Collection permanently.

Last night took me over the edge.

They’ve all been lasting since May 10.  Around 102°F to maybe a degree higher.  Ibuprophen does nothing except maybe down a notch for a few hours.  And they DO make me delirious! In one simple way, I can feel like I’ve been shot up with loads of morphine!

10 days now.  Last night.  This is like a bad re-run of going into Isolation last August from what began as “a simple cough.”  At least now I know what the hell’s going on.

Last night I FELT like I was in hell! My fever was so high I couldn’t even get a reading! At least 105°F as I can get that.  I tried my underarm (like you do with a baby.)  FUCK!!! STILL NOTHING!!!

This is dangerous.  You could die.  Along with everything else? IBUPROPHEN! 10,000mg! STAT!

I kept drifting in and out of sleep (better not have been consciousness!) but I thought I was awake the whole time.  Finally, after a while, a reading: 104°F under my arm! Later, 103°F under my arm! Oh, thank god.

I’m still on fire but extreme, medical emergency averted for now. For now?

Holiday here today but keep sending massive emails to Sweetie GP. Will call tomorrow.  My follow up appt. is not for a couple of weeks and I’ve heard nothing. On vacation? Her back up back up is lovely so hopefully she’ll take the driver’s seat? Maybe I really should be in hospital!

EXTREMELY PATHETIC CODA: While I was studying and dreaming away about medicine, gee, what would be my Specialty? Well, Neurology! Duh.  But for some reason, I went mad over Kidneys! I have no idea why, but I thought Kidneys were SO cool! Now? Bad Karma?

I’m too tired to email my mom now.  How on earth did I even write this?

I’ve also added a new Category entitled ‘The Cyborg’ for us–yes–us(!) as I don’t know how long we’ll remain together.  Due to my current physical state, the immediate high fevers (while not really being sick?) can induce some forms of delirium and/or delusional states.  I figured this out due to a specific issue regarding Urology/Nephrology.

Anything else?

My PTSD and Dissociative Amnesia blowing my head to bits because I can’t stand this anymore? It CANNOT be a seizure! Unless my head has severely been blown to bits! This would make “Epilepsy History!”

Right.  I keep having the SAME Simple partial–that becomes generalized or not–FOR FOUR CONTINUOUS DAYS (nothing yet today…) AND IT CAN LAST FOR 2-3 HOURS AT TIMES!!! At least the last part qualifies as Status Epilepticus, but the rest? NO WAY!!!

And I don’t have DID.

*sighs* Forget all of this.  It’s happening.  That’s all that matters. Although, even entertaining the thought of this being a seizure? It’s almost giving me some serious tonic-clonic giggles!©

However, Dr. PA wants to avoid talking about physical medicine here as much as possible.  Purely Psych/Neuro.  But you can’t always have one without the other.  Pretty much always, really.

Please come into my time machine, for a trip not so long ago in the past.  The first drug we tried to treat the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus became known as “The Evil Depakene!” It made me so sick, in so many ways, but regarding this post? I had my first Auditory Hallucination.  And the crazy, little, bitch of a girl knew me.

That got me a little freaked out.  Just a tad? Don’t you think? *stares at you all and waits for ANYONE to say NO!*

Nonetheless, once I ran to the bathroom and checked my underwear, saw it was clean, I made a tea and took a Valium (or 26.)  It was then I realized that it had occurred, I experienced it, I could deal with it again.

Let me press a few buttons on my time machine console, and we will turn 180 degrees (roughly.)  And end up a couple of years back from today.  Roughly.  Or more or less.

So, I’m shining like the biggest Diamond from Tiffany’s if anyone starts yackin’ in my head again.  Bring it on!

“Oh.  Uh, really?  Well, that’s rather odd but okay…”

The pissy, little brat came back, but now she was about 18 years old! Before, if I had to guess, maybe anywhere between eight to ten-years-old? Then I “met” more people.  And we all had this sort of silent way of communicating in my/our heads.

Further, I could see them (not visually) but in my mind.  I knew what they looked like, I knew the sounds of their voices, as well. Their ages are sort of vague but I’m damn close if not spot on!

It was similar to Jason.  We “met” earlier when I was in the ICU for three days–after trying to see what really happens when you die.  I thought I was going mad! Though I seriously questioned so strongly–did I meet my dead twin?

But when those other four first showed up? I fought and fought and fought!!! I pushed so hard saying things like, “Okay.  You’re here but I’m just making you up!!! I’m just writing a script in my head!!! You may exist somehow but I’m putting words into your mouths!!! No!!! I AM MAKING YOU UP!!!“

I actually did this verbally screaming in the middle of the street one day! *laughing so hard about to burst*

I wonder what I must have looked like? People running for safety from a tornado, or thinking: ‘That one last marble rolling around finally fell out of her ear…what a pity.’

But it was futile.  One of them “tricked” me.  He said, “While you’re going on about stuff like this, confused and asking us questions, how come we can tell you things before you’re even done talking? So how can you write a script and put words in our mouths?”

I see.  That’s an interesting form of logic.  It’s also interesting in a psychological way.  Please keep these two words in mind.

They said they were my lost twins as well.  And Jason whom I cried and cried over to come back FINALLY DID!!! There was a problem. He’s a bit separated from the group.  He’s on his own and extremely fragile and vulnerable! 

And it is possible to lose multiples.  I was told endlessly as a kid that I had lost one twin due a massive miscarriage my mother had during her first-to-second trimester.  When the embryos are THAT small, easy to miss more.

This post is getting very long.  I want to explain this issue properly but it is complex.  The above, as background information, was needed.  So I’m going to do something I have NEVER done before on my blog:

TO BE CONTINUED…

I’ve mentioned losing, quitting that Clobazam cold turkey, for my Typical Absence Status Epilepticus–because it wasn’t available–a million times here! And now I’m starting to do the same with it breaking down my body! I’m back on the drug but sicker than I was before!!! That’s because quitting cold turkey fucked me up THAT MUCH!!!

So physically, I’m now losing some important things.  Well, I don’t know.  You tell me.

Immune System Weakening (hey, recall that little cough that threw me into Isolation in the ER last summer!)
We’ll now just toss in Endocrine because of all the rest of this.

However. this may now prove a bit difficult to write for you to understand.  There is another problem that the TASE does not cause me.  It has lasted for three days and is happening right now. It has just begun.  I am in one of my TASE phases.

Never does the TASE give me an “identity” of sorts.  I am a Cyborg that is in need of repair.  I am working on it.  That is repairing myself.  This is Day 04.  My work I perform during these periods last for 2-3 hours and then I stop and return to a non-Cyborg state.

Neither the Cyborg nor Dr. PA is a Cyberchondriac, but Dr. PA is also experiencing high fevers while not being sick.  Dr. PA is not sure if this is a state of Delirium or Delusion as she has never experienced anything it.  However, the temperatures were relayed to her GP by the Cyborg.  Dr. PA cannot bear to read the email.

Dr. PA still retains lucid moments.

The importance of such a state of mind and the high fevers might have significance to Dr. PAs Kidney problems.  A battery of tests have been ordered and were to be done extremely quickly.  Dr. PA has kept track of the three urine samples and what has been on each Requisition to follow possible outcomes and problems.  Such drastic changes as this, could indicate in greatest simplicity an infection.  But if ignored, it could get worse.

An abdominal, pelvic and renal ultrasound have also been completed (last and latest step.)  Although, the results are unknown as well as the third urine sample.  It was for simply urine and C&S which is “Culture and Sensitivity.”  That digs deeper into into microbial areas to see if any infectious problems exist.

The second urine sample indicated RBCs and WBCs in the urine. That presents a multitude of issues for Kidneys (and I should include Bladders in all of this as well.)

The first urine sample indicated Creatinine which has everything to do with Kidney excretion.  Something is not being filtered out? Or filtered back in properly? If back in that may indicate the results of the second sample.

Dr. PA is also having issues with her Gastro problems again.  She is now smaller.  Within a range of 95-97lbs approximately.  Eating does not help.  Weight can not be maintained.

Unfortunately, working on anything to do with Dr. PAs computer may not be helping with my repairs.  Perhaps later.  It is another form of technology that may still measure my level of functioning. I continue to do things as “measures” of function but not exactly tests.

However, I must see one of Dr. PAs own Doctors today.  I think that will actually qualify as a test and not a measurement.  It is not until later.  I might shutdown before it before such a test.  Dr. PA would like that.

One last thing.  Dr. PA does not have DID.  Only Dissociative Amnesia under the collective family of DID Disorders.

Let’s start with my elbow.  I don’t even remember when the injury happened, but it’s been weeks ago now! More than a month? As they say: if you can’t remember, it’s been a long time.  I suppose I could look in my journal and find the last time I ended up on the floor with a tonic-clonic?

Direct impact.  I can remember that.  It hurt so goddamn much and compared to my other one, completely apparent it had suffered a real blow.

Well, I’ve fallen all over hitting so many hard surfaces when seizing! I just ignored it and figured it would heal on its own.  I was still ignoring it when I went to see my GP recently (or it just never occurred to me as so much else was going on.)  I never told her.

Skip the hard surfaces (literally.)  Picture this.  I’ll be lying down on my bed reading, sending someone an email on my mobile or something and…OUCH!!! Direct pressure on a mattress immediately makes my elbow extremely sore! So much, I have to stop entirely what I’m doing, and somehow try and stretch it out to rest it with no pressure on it.

Another picture this.  Try to visualize how I can do that? I have to twist my arm around like some kind of spastic contortionist! It also has to remain straight as I have problems with flexion.  Don’t bend it! I looked at it last night and I swear there was swelling after pain, pain, pain! There’s also a dark, red ring around the entire bone.  I see.

But my foot? Oh, my elbow is nothing compared to my foot!  And in tracing back by how bizarre it looked (even though seemingly innocuous at the time) I know what happened.  A tonic-clonic in my sleep–which when I awoke, I couldn’t believe how bizarre its havoc looked!

My right foot has a massive bruise on it, nearly covering its entire top! Tell me readers.  How on earth could I bruise the entire top of my foot and not remember it? How on earth could I even do it period???

That tonic-clonic.  I must have really been going at it like crazy! Every single thing on my bed was all on the other side from where I was sleeping.  Guess what else was else was on my bed within “kickable” distance? baby MacBook.  Thrashing away at such a hard object might explain some things?

Some things.  As I said, no big deal.  The bruise hurt but all bruises hurt! A dormant, hidey-in-the-footy-injury? And it (or both) might be pretty serious? I don’t know.  What I DO know is that my GP wants to see me tomorrow after hours when the office is closed! 

I think that means ASAP.  I’m just trying to get a ride with Accessible Transit because it’s such a late booking!!! My GP and Admin. (god I loooooooove them!) are holding the appt.  If not tomorrow, then Wednesday.

Because now I can’t walk, you see.  PAIN! Way more pain with flexion than my elbow.  My ankle, even my toes.  I’ve wrapped myself up in a tensor bandage and I’m trying to walk as gingerly as possible.  With a sandal.  Forget about a sock or shoe! I don’t think I’m at the point of needing two canes.  Hopefully I won’t get there!

I have yet to figure out how I will keep my foot warm for going outside to travel.  Tape a blanket around my foot and upper leg? That would probably work.

So, what brought out the dormant, hidey-in-the-footy-injury? *looks out window and sighs*

I went out to a concert on Saturday night! I haven’t dressed up in ages and I was thrilled to do it! I even wore heels!!!

Fuck off PA.  Didn’t you learn enough from the last time? What impact it had on so many people?

Well, I was strongly reminded from a friend overseas about my epilepsy, trying to sort out its nightmare, learning today that my Creatinine levels are now “a bit off.”  Creatinine has everything to do with your kidneys.  More labs, ultrasounds etc…

I’ll probably be okay.  No, I will.  No, maybe I won’t.  But it’s still pretty ugly just thinking of it along with everything else.

NEVER in my life have I had a problem with Creatinine.  Well, duh. I’ve never had problems with anything remotely to do with renal system.  I’m now counting how many of my bodily systems are falling apart (or at least being affected.)  And sorry to repeat myself folks, losing the Clobazam is why.  Sweetie GP and I agreed, and started the list ages ago.

Immune System
Gastro System
Endocrine System
Nephrology…

Well, so be it.  But me committing suicide is NOT an option.

I made some Tweets earlier before my mobile died while out reading (escape my home while going mad!!!) I basically said such, and I need to make the most of my life–even if it is shortening.  I need to get back to seeing all the beauty there is in it; whether I seek it out or it simply appears out of nowhere.

However, I still need to make up my will and directives.  No, really. I do.  Even if I died in some freak accident.  Everyone has to have a will and their directives! Otherwise, your life as you KNEW it will be destroyed just as much as you’ve been destroyed.

Another thing is that we have amazing hospice care here.  If I’m doing a slower version of the “Kansas City Shuffle” they’ll make me so comfortable (i.e. drug me up with such high degrees of opiates) I’ll just go to sleep.  Peacefully.

And it will be peaceful for everyone else too.  My slow dance will give everyone (including me) lots of notice so we can deal with it together.

Now? I just have to remember this and keep it in mind.  Right at the forefront.

The End.

Sorry.  Not exactly a bad pun.  Freudian slip? Or just bad choice of wording.

But had I received a certain document in the mail yesterday, rather than today? On top of everything else? There would have been ABSOLUTELY NO QUESTION PERIOD OF GETTING SO DISGUSTINGLY WASTED LAST NIGHT!!!

I knew it.  I did.  Just hearing a few, vague words from both Non-Arsey Neuro and Sweetie GP.  I saw them within the last week or two.  What I also saw was the two-and-half-page dictation from my consult with this “Specialist” (oh, he’s special, I won’t argue that!) for my ongoing epilepsy shit.

It’s really quite simple.  You’ve all read it here.

1. Patient developed Typical Absence Status Epilepticus of catamenial origin.

2. Patient lost drug used to treat it, subsequently made everything to do with ALL of Patient’s epilepsy worse.

3. Patient has resumed drug but is still having convulsive seizures with a non-convulsive syndrome when she never had convulsive seizures with it from the start.

4. Patient is still gravely ill, cannot perform everyday functions, plus cannot leave her home for days.

What did I know (or was 99.58385% sure) he was going to say? I’m having Psychogenic Seizures.  And he DID.

Although, I wasn’t prepared for some surprises! All wrapped up in such pretty paper with shiny ribbons and bows!

He misquoted me! He made me sound like I was a simpering, whimpering idiot! His writing about me even had little tinkle of a bell to hear.

Maybe I’m a little sensitive about all of this.  It’s only  been going on for years.  It’s now at the point where its starting to actually effect and break down other systems of my body.  It’s altered my life where I…loss! LOST! I WILL NEVER GET THINGS BACK!!!

I don’t hear any tinkling of bells.  I hear him swinging a mallet against a gong, trying to smash it.

So what’s deal with all the tinkling and gonging? Psychogenic Seizures are real.  But his tone.  And he also mentioned figuring out things quickly, so as not to waste medical resources.  I see.  Or hear?

GONG! GONG! GONG!

Are you calling me a “malingerer?” Along with everything else you’ve tried to depict me as? Doing so as 3-year-old with broken crayons? Broken because you keep biting and chewing on them?

I understand he wants to do proper testing etc… but I can’t live like this.  I won’t live like this.  There may be a point when I really won’t live like this.  If you catch my drift.

And if you think THAT drift is being a “malingerer?” Well, I actually told my mother straight to her face that I’d off myself.  That yes, I would do it if things became so unbearable, I just couldn’t handle it anymore.

You could say that I was “malingering” myself all over my mother, but when I tried to kill myself, ended up on life support in the ICU, she was actually there every step of the way and after.  Thus, my mother does not think I am a “malingerer.”  She never displayed any emotion to me then.

When I told her about the future? An interesting, also minimal reaction.

She placed her hands flat together and put them to her mouth. She shook her head, ever so slightly.  I could see some tears welling up in her eyes but she didn’t cry.  I knew the tears were for both of us though.  She wouldn’t want me to die, of course.  But her tears also acknowledged that if my suffering did become too much, if that was what I had to do, she understood.

Nonetheless, I haven’t reached that point yet.  If anything, I feel like committing homicide, not suicide.

Time to have a serious chat with Non-Arsey Neuro.  This needs to get straightened out.

Fuck.  Music vs. Silence.  I think music better.  Silence only reinforces everything–and nothing–at the same time.

What to pick? Okay.  ”Spleen And Ideal” by Dead Can Dance.   Maybe my favourite except for another.  But I like the haunting sounds of this one.

I’m turning it up.  LOUD.  LOUDER.

Wait.  I have to listen to the first track before I continue.  Probably the second too.  And have a cigarette.  Out of one pack when I bought two.  The other “disappeared.”

That’s what happens when you’re a “Motherfucking Asshole.”

And after I listen to my music and hopefully write in a lucid manner, NO PITY.  If you pity me, I am all the more worthless.

Triggers.  They’re “Motherfucking Assholes” too.  Even more so when you realize that they shouldn’t be.  Something happens, you know the deal, so why should it send you into a downward spiral?

Well, I have no goddamn clue.  Not to mention “so much stress” in my life.

Call it what you will, but I’m too stubborn to call it anything.  That probably makes me a bigger “Motherfucking Asshole” than I already am.

I’ve been trying to quit drinking for a while now.  Somehow, I can’t get past two weeks.  It’s almost like a cruel joke.  Any relationship I’ve had has never lasted past two and a half years.  That’s been the cut off point.  Today was 11 days.

Fine.

I’m a “Motherfucking Asshole” for that issue alone.  And more.

I’m sitting on my bed with baby MacBook, fully dressed and my shoes still on.  I’ll probably not even bother to alter my clothing as such, to go to sleep.

If I can.

But I have a good drug arsenal.  I’ll keep pushing to close my eyes for at least a bit.  Even though I don’t want to see tomorrow.  Or a lot of tomorrows right now.

They all just seem to be empty.

Immediately upon receipt of these emails in any form, I lose all bodily senses except my ability to hear.  What do I hear? The eloquence and linguistic beauty of Monty Python: “…Spam!Spam!Spam!Spam!…”  If you have no idea what I am talking about, Google it.

They always receive an automatic delete, except this one was a quiz.  Sometimes I do the quizzes just to see what bullshit they contain and how fucking ridiculous they are.  On occasion, at least I’ve been able to extract approximately 0.000000000mL of amusement from them.

Well, the good ol’ Typical Absence Status Epilepticus is REALLY doing in my brain right now.  Giving me some nice Dr. Martens curbing but I still have all my teeth and I’m still alive too.

So I decided to do a “Reply All.”  I wrote a retarded, reads-like-I’m-drinking-cat-piss-while-on-LSD speech.  I thought it was humorous so I thought everyone else would as well!

One brain cell left and gmail.

I’ve finally decided to cut off all ties with anyone even remotely connected to non-bio dad’s side of the family.  There are only two exceptions: my cousin who sent the email, and his mother who married into the family–divorced, married again etc.

I’d say they can all go to hell but there must be a more evil and disgusting place (even more evil and disgusting than them.)  Some place that we humans do not know of.  Yet.  I say “yet” because it would become known to humans.  As soon as the bastards and bitches ended up there!

One slight problem though.  The whole goddamn bunch plus their never ending, tainted, inbred progeny would remain locked up inside FOREVER! Thus, we as humans still wouldn’t know it existed.

Long past “Forgive and Forget!” Now? “NEVER Forgive and NEVER Forget!”

Some people may say lots in disagreement to that.  ”Oh, how terrible a thought.”  ”That’s not right.” ” What an awful thing to say.”

“They’re only human!”

Thanks for your views on the matter but there’s far too much to say in retort! However, I will certainly say they do a wonderful job pretending they’re human!

gmail.  I am SO thankful for it and now even grateful for it! The “Undo Send” Feature!

I hit “Send” and by some miracle(?) I realized I knew one of email addresses on the list.  Nobody looked familiar before.

The one I saw was his father’s.  Who actually played a part in physically abusing me when I was young.  In fact, he was the “Ringleader” in getting a bunch of others to go along with it!

I hit “Undo” and looked anywhere, everywhere in a panic for what I had written! It was sitting as a Draft.  gmail simply and automagically treated it as if I REALLY didn’t send it at all.

I’d say that’s one definition for the word “relief.”

A bit more relief? Post about my vaccination for Ebola RIGHT NOW! Before I try and sleep.