Archive for July, 2010


I popped up something on Twitter earlier while at my friend J.’s place.  I had a feeling I needed Wonder Cane but I didn’t bring it.  I was right.  I was so goddamn stupid and right, I had to buy a cane while at his place! That’s what I put up on Twitter.

This isn’t a way to live.

But it doesn’t end there (and I won’t bother to get into our evening…just my medical shit.)

I had another seizure where my airway was pretty much cut off.  AHA! You didn’t know about those ones did you! Kinda scary, don’t you think?

Loss of postural tone.  My head, neck.  I’ve had that before.  Difference is, three times lately, it’s gone backward.  Before, it was only off to the side.  As a result, my head falls so far back, it feels like I can’t breathe.  The last two times, I was okay and my consciousness wasn’t altered to such a degree, so I could basically either straighten my head, or literally pull it up with my hand.  Tonight, I scared the shit out of J. by telling him to do it.

I didn’t mean to.  I just wanted him to be aware of my new seizure pattern.  And you know what?

This isn’t a way to live.

I’ll call Non-Arsey Neuro, I guess.  Combine the fact that “This Isn’t a Way to Live.”  He doesn’t know how much I want to die so, okay, ramp up the ACs for the Bipolar? The goddamn Asperger’s overstimulation is making my brain think I’m seizing? Migraines, too? Stress…oh, fuck stress! That’s been the whole premise all along!

I’m sick.  I know I am.  Very.  Extremely. Mentally, physically…  I do have the foresight to see it, at least?

It still doesn’t mean that I don’t want to die.

I’m trapped.

This isn’t a way to live.


I just finished reading about part of my life I already talked about ages ago (it’s in this thing called “The Catcher in the Rye”) and I’ve now confirmed that I have definitely been reincarnated.  Just as a woman.  In fact, I think this could be a seventh version of me somehow, as I seem to have had seven hospitalizations at this point! Maybe I actually did come back as a guy before, but I don’t mind being a woman, so much.  Although, getting a period is kinda weird.  All this blood coming out of you.  Every month, too! Wow, it can hurt.  That’s another thing.  Wow, it can hurt.

I don’t want to bore you to your own death, by retelling my whole story for the one thousandth time.  In fact, if it’s all just the same, I’d rather not repeat it ever again.  However, I know you’ll all want proof that it’s actually me so I’ll just mention a few things I said.

We used to go see my younger brother Allie, well not see him in the cemetery, but you know, go there all the time.  I hated it.  We’d even go in the rain. The goddamn rain for Chrissake! That made me hate it even more.  I still don’t know how I feel about this but what I thought was:

It’s not too bad when the sun’s out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.

When I was thinking about heading out west somewhere, just ditching New York, altogether, I had to see old Phoebe before I left.  She’s my little sister.  She’s something else.  Smart as a whip.  The things she comes up with sometimes.

I went to her school to leave a note to meet me at the Museum of art during her lunch break.  I met two kids while I was waiting who wanted to see the mummies.  I had some extra time, so I showed them where they were.  I know this is going to sound so weird as I’m talking about death and cemeteries again but this really got me going.  It’s not just what it was but I saw the same thing at Phoebe’s school right before!

I was the only one left in the tomb then.  I sort of liked it, in a way.  It was so nice and peaceful.  Then, all of a sudden, you’d never guess what I saw on the wall.  Another “Fuck you.”  It was written with a red crayon or something, right under the glass part of the wall, under the stones.

That’s the whole trouble.  You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any.  You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write “Fuck you” right under your nose.  Try it sometime.  I think, even, if I ever die, and they stick me in a cemetery, and I have a tombstone and all, it’ll say “Holden Caulfield” on it, and then what year I was born and what year I died, and then right under that it’ll say “Fuck you.”  I’m positive, in fact.

Actually, right now I’m looking down to see if someone’s sneaked up when I wasn’t looking and written a big “Fuck you” on my shirt.  Yeah, right under my nose.  So far, so good.

I’m just going to say one more thing.  That’s because I told you right from the beginning I didn’t want to tell you anything.  This is the last thing I said when I was in the hospital ward but I can’t remember which time.  Because I’ve had seven or something, now, right? Maybe I’ve even had more and gone back in time five hundred times and each time, I had millions of hospitalizations.  Anyway, the last thing I’ll tell you is the last thing I said when I was in at least one of those psycho wards.  It’s not something I’m going to say ever again, either but I guess that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense if I keep getting reincarnated or backincarnated or something.  I guess I can only try though and I really feel this way, I do, Mr. (or Ms.?) Holden Caulfield Esq. I do.  My last words, the last words, I ever spoke:

Don’t ever tell anybody anything.  If you do, you start missing everybody.


Recently I had to do something that is…well, pretty much foreign to me.  Hell, I don’t think there’s anything that’s “pretty much” foreign about it.

I had to speak up for myself.  Further, I had to do it in such a way that it was verging on violent.  I suppose the reason for that, was because I was backed into a corner.  Perhaps it was a bizarre twist on “fight or flight?” I say it was a bizarre twist, as I was both fighting and “flying.”  I was trying to fight for my life by actually speaking up and defending myself, but I was also…how can I put it? Flying away, because I was so frightened!

Does that make sense? Or maybe it was the reverse.  I was “flying,” or fleeing from the situation, and fighting to somehow allow myself to actually speak on my own behalf. *ponders*

No, I think it’s the former.  I was cornered.  I was trapped like an animal that did have to fight for its life.  There was something… *winces*  Yes, almost primitive about it.

However, we are “evolved” in our thinking, yes? Well, I know I’m not.  Otherwise, why would have this been so hard? So many other people have no problem standing up for themselves, correct? I won’t go into all of the reasons why I have a problem with this.  I know why.  What I found more “interesting” is a bit of fallout.

Another thing I know is that I’m the idiot that wandered away from the village that couldn’t be bothered to send out a one-winged, carrier pigeon to try and find me.  However, if you can place your feet in my idiotic (red) shoes, tap the heels three times…  Well, you’ll either turn into a one-winged, carrier pigeon, or realize how difficult it was for me to say what I had to say.

I felt like one-winged, carrier pigeon shit.

Still, I tried to “just deal with it.”  Because that’s what you do, right?  “Swallow” it.  Sorry…couldn’t resist…

Back to the fallout.  I emailed someone and told them (well wrote them…sent myself off as a goddamn, one-winged, carrier pigeon covered in my own bird shit.)  After I did that, something happened.  As soon as I typed the words on the screen, it somehow became…more…”real?” That’s the best I can describe it.

Immediately afterward, I just broke down.  I started crying my eyes out.  I was sent back to childhood, forward to other years…all of the same things I had been through.  All those years.  You can’t speak for yourself.  You have to shut up.  Don’t you dare state your needs–even if you are trapped and are desperate!

Because when I did? In this case? In response? I was forced to say: “I’ll never mention it again.”


I woke up this morning and checked my personal email.  There was a note saying I got canned, sacked, booted out the door, from my “new,” part time job as a Medical Transcriptionist. *laughing so hard*

I’m not upset, really.  Still, it is kind of a bummer, I have to say.  Yet, I can find the humour in it, even though I’m desperate for money! A humour in a sort of warped and twisted sense (is my humour anything less?)

Although, I suppose I did have the job.  In a way.  I spent a couple of hours there on Friday, just chatting and doing a bit of training.  Yesterday was my first, “real” day.  The arrangement was for me to only work a few days a week, and only a few hours on those days.  I put in an entire day yesterday.

I thought this was because I was new.  Then, I thought it was because I sucked so bad.  After a while, I realized I was probably being a little hard on myself.  I mean it was my first day, right? It’s not like I knew the software inside and out! Also, I’d never actually done this work before–at least not in a real medical setting.  Sure, we did a bit of it in class.  And thus, I thought the full day’s time was for me to train.

Apparently not.

I was told that they wanted someone with more experience. Excuse me! Well, why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place?! I was up front about my (cap)abilities and e.x.p.e.r.i.e.n.c.e… *rolls eyes*  They also mentioned workload, turnaround time and such.  Excuse me, again! Well why the hell didn’t you say so in the…?! Good Lord!

I am at least getting paid for the one day that I was there. *laughing again* I swear…

It’s probably just as well.  I would have had to leave them relatively soon, as I still need to get my stupid Clinic Rotation going! Even faster, now! Not to mention, I was just about to DIE when I got home.

The job wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.  I found the people very hard to understand as they spoke very quickly, and some had quite heavy accents.  Due to that fact, I thought my feet were about to fall off by the time I walked out of the office! “Death by Dictation!”

The pedals! Back and forth, left and right, stop and start…  I’m not even sure I can get away with “blaming” my Auditory Processing Disorder due to the Asperger’s, but you never know.

I will admit it.  I was slow, but come on! Let go on my first day??? Yeah, that’s good for my already, miniscule ego. *laughs once more and shakes head*


I wasn’t even going to bother making a post, but I can’t sit long enough to watch a movie in a chair or elevate my right leg in it, so the best place to be is in bed.  It hurts too damn much, and of course because it’s neurological, NSAIDs don’t do crap.  I’ll get to my leg later.  However, I am hobbling around with Wonder Cane (that isn’t seeming so “Wonder”ful at the moment.”)

Initially, I was going to make a post.  Well, thinking about it this morning on the way to class.  Which, today, by the way, was my “official” last one. *shrug*

My blog has been somewhat of a disaster (somewhat?) so I thought I could at least write a simple “update.”  However, as the morning grew longer into the afternoon, I knew there was something I had to do.  I had to write a very difficult email to someone.  It is concerning events of late, things that have morphed into something that never should have (in my mind!) and thus, how I don’t think I can handle all of the ramifications.

I can only hope that this person will be able to handle what I said to them.  It’s about our newly, formed “business.”  I strongly suspect I will need to back out.  More than strongly? I would hate for it to ruin our friendship.  I must be prepared for that outcome, though.

Good friends are hard to find.  Definitely for me.  I tend to fuck up any and all relationships in my life.  I always have (hence, why I have so few of them!) Still, I actually am willing to place my sanity first.  I will be sad if I lose this person, but it only makes sense.  For if I am not capable of these things, all will fail, anyway? Then, surely, extreme conflict will arise.  I am already such a bomb with a short fuse in relationships.  Perhaps in doing this, we can either lengthen that fuse, or not even light it at all?

I do not know.

My leg? *shakes head*  My brain is up to its (not so funny) tricks, again.  I guess the stress of it all, the stress of my own life, everything…it decided to make my legs go a bit wonky.  I could feel it when I was walking home.  Heavy, like I had just run a marathon without properly stretching.  The muscles all tight.  Now sore.

I was very stimmy today.  Yes, the Asperger’s and getting overloaded seems to be causing such crazy misfiring, which then manifests itself physically–like some form of a seizure.

Do you know there is a proper way of walking with a cane? At least if you’ve got only one bum leg.  You place it down and apply the pressure and your weight in tandem with your “good” leg.  Don’t place it on the ground and lean on it while you’re using your “bad” leg.  It puts the actual weight of your balance and the strain on it.

I feel like such a useless wreck.  No, I do.  No pity, please.  I am deteriorating.  Mentally, physically…right before my very own eyes! Every time I turn around, another piece of me falls to the wayside! It’s like, what a waste! Who wants to be like this? Who would ever want to be with someone like this?

And you question why I want to kill myself?

Sweetie GP gave me shit about that when I went for my physical the other day.  She was around when it wasn’t so bad with the other “active planning stage.”  She said, “That’s when you’re supposed to come to me! Maybe something needs to be done!”

Meds.  She was talking about meds? She may actually have a point.  Even though Non-Arsey Neuro and I have become so resigned to my brain being utterly redonculous and beyond all hope, maybe…? I’m not sure.  Because it’s all so interconnected.  Would this work? Titrate something? Because the ACs cover so much for me, theoretically.  Well, not really theory, at all.  Even the Clobazam/Frisium that is actually a benzo, but used for seizures.

No meds Rx’d for Asperger’s but ACs for epilepsy and Bipolar.  Asperger’s overstimulation due to emotional overload.  Bipolar cycling due to emotional triggers.  Stress lowers seizure thresholds, but meds can’t eradicate stress.  Still, ACs are what is used to manage epilepsy.

Everything is due to the misfiring (miswiring?!) of my brain.  Maybe a stretch but I can go a hell of a lot higher than my current dosage for the ACs and the Clobazam.  Absolutely.  Hey, couldn’t hurt? Also, in light of me wanting off myself so brutally these days? Crank up the ACs for another Bipolar crisis? *shakes head again*

I need to call him about something else, anyway.  Mention it just for the halibut?

Okay, going to try and go knock myself out a bit (more.)  Rest.  Please? Feeling sick. *sighs*


I’m sitting here waiting for some sweet relief, trying to find some way in hell to calm my sorry, sad ass down.  I’m thinking about making a post or not and, well, I guess there’s no thought involved.  Here I am typing.  I’ve got this Irish accent running through my head even as I’m doing it.  But I’m not writing it phonetically.  Or, even in any other “linguistic manner” that you could recognize it that way.  But that’s not even the point.  Why the hell did I even bring that up?

I don’t know what happened today.  All I know is that as soon as I left the house, I need a Valium immediately.  Even that didn’t make sense.  So far, I’ve taken three today and they haven’t done shite.  Well, maybe the third made a slight dent.  Now, I’m home and had downed all my sleep meds, plus some Gravol.  It’s late again and I have to get up early for that part time job thingy.  That I don’t even care about anymore.

After today, hell, even before today it was bad enough.  Trying to hang on to the tiny things that have been good lately has been tough.  Now? I fake a laugh.  But it’s really more a maniacal cackle.  Although, tonight, it became downright evil.  Evil PA.

Did I ever know I had an evil side? If I did, was I in denial or just too fucking stupid to not see it! Well, I did tonight! I don’t get physically violent.  I NEVER do!!! But at my friend J.’s tonight, I told him that if I did, his apartment would have been destroyed while we were having dinner.

Then, on the way home, I saw this couple.  They were beautiful.  So attractive looking.  They looked so in love.  And you know what? I wanted to bash their heads in, and bleed them to a bloody pulp! I wanted to yell at them, “Go fuck yourselves!” Then, I sort of laughed in my head.  “Go fuck yourselves.”

Right.  That’s what you do–every night when you go home together.  Fuck yourselves.  Well, in me kicking the shit out of you and telling you to go fuck yourselves, maybe I’m sending you a message.  It’s the reason why I’m staying away from relationships.  You just get “fucked” in the end.

Postscript: there was a hell of a lot more “Evil PA” going on tonight.  I just didn’t write about it here.


So, after that “ridiculous” “thought provoking” “confusing” “stupid” “_____” post, written extremely late last night, you get a very boring one now.

I’m just killing time a bit, having tea, sitting with wet hair as I just got out of the shower.  I have to go see Sweetie GP and get all nekkid, as I need to have an “Annual Physical.”  I don’t think I’ve had one in three years! Not through any fault of my own (well, intended fault!) I don’t think either of us had the opportunity.  She’s had two kids within that time frame and…well, I’ve been continually going mental.  It’s a full time job.

So, I’m getting dressed today and normally, I wouldn’t give a toss what I wore.  She loves me warts and all! *laughing*  I have to see J. later and then we’re going to an appt. with a bank.  Ugh.  Not.In.The.Mood.For.Him.  Anyway, I feel I should look somewhat…”professional?” However, this bloody “heatwave” we’re dealing with is unreal.  And you know it’s nuts if wee PA, the human ice cube, says it’s hot outside.  Indeed.  She’s actually wearing T-shirts and shorts!

I’m continuing to look for a decent T-shirt.  My shorts are all crazy as they need to be ironed, except this one pair that are a very sturdy cotton.  Walking shorts, basically.  Not to mention, everything is so damn huge!!! Everything’s too big for me!! But walking/bermuda shorts you can get away with as looking big?

Now, a damn shirt! Where are all of my decent shirts? I’m wearing a golf shirt (it was a gift.)  Hey, at least it’s Ralph Lauren! I couldn’t look more preppy if you literally threw me into a John Hughes movie.  I thought I’d be a rebel and not tuck it in.  Nope.  Even though it’s a size S it still looks like a dress on me.

I’d better get going.  At least I finished all the documentation necessary to mail for today (more scholarship/bursary jazz.)  Le sigh.


Earlier today, right now…even lately…? Well, read the title.  It’s so hard to figure out…? What could I be? *snicker*

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not fooling you like the female reincarnation of Holden Caulfield that I apparently seem to be.  No.  I’m just trying to figure shit out!

So, let’s talk about conflict. Like, why am I blogging while I should be sleeping? I need to get up early tomorrow! Egad! What am I going to do??? Or, what if you don’t even like this post??? That’s going to create more conflict in my head! And then I just won’t be able to figure out MORE shit in my head!!!

I’m sorry.  That’s my SISA coming out.  If you don’t know, I have a disorder called “Supreme Idiot and Stupendous Arse.”  They haven’t put it into the new DSM coming out but that’s because it’s never been properly studied.  See, you look around the world and NTs look the same? But me? No, joking.  I have an extreme case.

But back to me being a lot of things? Well, the problem is, I’m getting a lot of feedback from a lot of sources, ‘see? Which is fine, ’cause that’s life.  However, things get a bit more complicated because I get my OWN feedback.  But that only makes sense because we don’t live in a vacuum.  Which, when you think about it, is a good thing.  Who’d want to be trapped in this awful, fast, spinny thing full of dust and dirt forever!

*pauses*

Anyway, so this whole “feedback” thing.  You can’t escape it, right? And yet.  You still get stuck in a vacuum.  Whether you’re getting feedback or not from someone else, or whether you’re getting feedback or not from yourself…

Thus, I could be a lot of things but…  I don’t quite know right now.

I need more feedback.


Well, there’s always time to be depressed (unfortunately.)  I still can’t think straight from the stupid migraine I got sorta, kinda 48hrs. ago.  I need to “think,” though.  My eyes are tired from looking at this stupid screen! I’m still nauseous! I’m out of Gravol!

I’m out of tea.

Yeah.  That’s a significant… OMG! I just typed “significan’t.”  Is there such a thing as “Freudian Typing?” Well, there is now! Anyway, that’s a significan’t problem.

This is so ass, there are 12 donkeys parading through my flat! My head is still hurting, I’m tired.  I managed to finally, late last night, get some soup into me.  I ate some crackers, yes crackers, and they didn’t even stay in me.  Fucking crackers!!!  How benign is a cracker??? And while feeling so disgusting, it wasn’t like I ate the whole box.  Hardly.  Just a few!!!

Fucking crackers.

I wonder if my brain is “thinking” I had a seizure when I really didn’t.  Yeah.  It’s actually doing that now (or having a tendency to do so) when I get a migraine or have a substantial Asperger’s meltdown and/or get mega-overstimulated.  Then I get the “fun” of feeling post-“ick”tal© when I really shouldn’t be.  Christ, all I know right now is I feel rough.

I do have a good reason to be tired, though.  My phone rang first thing this morning and woke me up from a night of crap-ass-donkey-parade-sleep.

It’s not utterly fabulous, but I managed to stumble across a part time job.  Stumble, indeed.  I know that working part time is an option, but I haven’t pursued anything as I still need to get my stupid Clinic Rotation figured out! I didn’t want to take on some menial job, bagging groceries, just to have to leave it in two weeks (not that I suppose it would have mattered, but the entire notion bothered me.)

Well, this one girl that I’ve been in school with since I started, mentioned a Diagnostic Imaging Office that needed Transcriptionists.  Was anyone interested? I just about leapt out of my chair! I contacted them, but apparently they had someone else, so my resume on file, if we get busier…yeah, yeah.

So, I’m barely making out what this woman is saying, while sliding all over donkey dung and trying to shut their goddamn, annoying, braying and drooling yaps.  We went over the details as I had spoken to her before.  I was really keen on the work from home aspect.  Nope. They want me in their office.  Well, screw it! It’s money (shit money, but still money!) So, I’ll go wherever they want me to go.

Good thing I went out and bought those semi-fancy duds when I did, huh? Now, I don’t have to worry about racing around to find decent stuff to fit me when I stroll in there on Friday morning.  I just need to be careful and not step in any donkey dung.


It’s taken me hours to do this, but it is finally done! Thank you all for your patience, as I had told you about taking the shots in May.

I think this was a good thing for me to do (and actually accomplish!) today.  It took my mind elsewhere.  Away from so many awful and disturbing thoughts of late.  Also, staring at pretty, sparkly and shiny objects probably didn’t hurt either!

…stim…stim…stim… *laughing*

There are 16 out of the original 270 pictures I took on the Page.  Yes, I placed them on a Page so they would remain permanent fixtures on my blog.

So, I hope you enjoy them.  Whoo! I think my eyes may be ready to explode like fireworks right about now! *laughs again*