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The World is Against Me

May 25, 2010

That certainly sounds pretty self centered huh? I guess though that is really the only way to view things seeing as outside of my experience things are still pretty abstract.

You know I said that I was going  to stop writing here- and I went and got a beautiful blue journal with gilded pages.  I even set up a new blog and gave that address to my family and friends so that they would be able to keep up with how I am doing with the Man going off to the sandbox here in a few weeks.  I don’t think they have any idea how long I’ve been blogging because to be very honest none of them have taken the time to look since we came out of the IF closet.  It kind of brings a relief of sorts that they choose not to come here to see what may be going on with me – or what has gone on with me in the past four years- but at the same time it kind of hurts to know that there is at least a low level of indifference there.  That I can brush off my shoulder though. The new blog I want to be happier than this one is.  I want it to be funny and random. All these things I used to be and I really want to get back to that-buuuut I am not thinking that is going to happen. I suppose that I still write here because it is still my safe place.

Right now I am working on catching up where the events of the last 10 days or so have pushed me behind. I woke up at like 0730 and after breakfast I’ve been in front of this computer just trying to bust out the work. I was up until I think 4 this morning working on my English Lit course- easy peasy.  Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130.  And a comparison of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60 to a contemporary sonnet called “Anthem for Doomed Youth” by a 24 year old Wilfred Owen.  I’d definitely suggest looking it up for a read.  Let me stray from my intent (by the way I’m procrastinating if you hadn’t noticed) and tell you about this young man.  He joined the Army and was sent to Scotland to recover from shell-shock.  He was in the trenches of the First World War.  He wrote poetry while he was recuperating and wrote this sonnet in 1917 while being treated for what we would classify as PSTD (post-traumatic stress syndrome) and trench fever.  When he was discharged he re-enlisted to fight again in the war.  He died in battle– one week before the war ended 11 November 1918.  He was only twenty-five years old.  For those of us who have family and friends who sacrifice themselves in part or in whole this sonnet is really one that hits kind of close to home.  Then take a peak at Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60.  Ok, let me put my literature nerd away.


For anyone who has kept semi-interested in this abandoned bloggy home of mine, you guys know that this year hasn’t exactly been great if one were to look at everything that has happened.  I thought I was dealing pretty well with everything to spite the stress making me very literally sick.  Believe me, that is all you would ever want to know about that. Anyway, so I never really had to utilize the whole “compartmentalization” method until 10 days ago.

Where to start?

Job hunting is not going well for me and based on a number of different people I really should not expect a job in the first nine months of looking. I started looking back in October 2009 and had one really good prospect until they changed The Man’s report date and she couldn’t wait that long.   One lady was here two and a half years and couldn’t ever find anything– that is until her husband got orders, of course.   I did go to the career fair (I won’t even get into what people interpret “business casual” to be) but the only thing I was qualified to do was a contractor job- in Kuwait.  UHH, no thanks.  First, I have no intent in going to the Middle East unless I am a tourist. Second, I am still unpacking boxes so there is no way I am going to go and pack everything up again. Third, I am not leaving my dogs behind or leaving them with anyone but myself for longer than a few weeks.

My doctor here sucks already.  And the provider list they have for Pain Management Centers is ridiculous in how out-dated it is. The first referral the people had been out of business for over a year.  Instead of them going and looking for another doctor they gave me a website and told me to call them when I found a doctor who was taking new patients.  Two of the numbers were also disconnected and one of those I actually drove to the address and it was just an old building.  No idea where they went and no idea of how to find them. So I found that the second to last provider on the list was in fact taking new patients so I called the referral office and they faxed the letter to the office.  I called and the woman on the other end (Lord help me) told me that I couldn’t make an appointment even though I was on the phone with her and she knew that the letter was in the process of being faxed at that very moment.   She told me (with no small amount of attitude by the way) that she would call me to schedule an appointment.  So I waited a week… then a week and a half.  I called again and this woman had the ovaries to catch an attitude with me talking like “I SAID I would call you to make an appointment. NO you can’t make an appointment now because I am not ready to call you yet”.  Geez! If a hand could go through a phone I swear I’d have gotten myself into trouble.  I hung up and called the referral office to file a complaint and tell them that I don’t want to go to a doctor whose nurses and staff think they can speak to a person that way.  How are they gonna act while I am having a treatment?  So there was only one provider left and I must say that I was dreading the phone call to see if they would accept me as a patient.  The woman who picked up the phone was very nice and she said to go ahead and send the referral.  I told her I would hang up and let the referral office know so they could send my information.  So she calls me and is asking me the preliminary questions.  She asks what the source of my pain and when I say fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome there is that pause– you know the kind…the one where you know that there isn’t a darn thing they are gonna be able to do for ya– and she says that he doesn’t usually treat fibromyalgia but he would see me anyway.  Translation: we can’t do one thing for you but we are gonna take the referral, make the appointment and get the money.

I’m in an incredible amount of pain that honestly is at a level I’ve never been to. Its beyond a ten. Its at the point where I just move because I know there are things that need to get done.  This typing means I won’t be liking my fingers tonight.  My knees hurt… not just like achy knees but if I bend them they hurt. If I straighten them they hurt. Elevated. Lowered. Supported— it all hurts.  My feet hurt from walking- my heels, arches and balls of my feet.  My head I wish I could disconnect and there are no words to describe my neck.  I tried to get a massage but that was a bad idea because it only teased the muscles and I literally could feel it days later.  I can’t get through a day without sleeping in two or three different times.  (sigh)

I found notes for two loans that I knew nothing about in the closet. (I’m sorry if I don’t provide a great amount of details but I am gonna guess that most of you will understand- if you get this far down the word ladder). Sunday I could feel that there was something else.  Down in the pit of my stomach.  The Man lied straight to my face and after just asking the same question over and over again he told me that he cheated on me while we were in EP.

I never really comprehended true brokenness until last Sunday.  Infertility was a painful throb.  A sore spot that gets kicked really hard once a month or more.  By the way, on Sunday I was already six days “late”.  I would bet everything I have that I didn’t even ovulate last cycle and that my lining was virtually non-existent.  Anyway, quite apropos, that is the day my cycle started.   It was amazing (not in a good way) how much faith I put in him and deep down somewhere everything would be okay because no matter what I had him.  Betrayal like this is more encompassing than I could have ever thought I would be. The best way I could put it is that before I was like a crisp picture- maybe my edges weren’t sharp anymore because of what has been thrown into my path but the picture was still whole- still one discernible and definable thing.  I have no doubt that personally I will get through this but it broke my heart even more that I can never be that person that I was Sunday morning.  I’ll make a mosaic and it will be beautiful but it won’t change that its just a bunch of pieces that don’t fit together without some sort of mortar- or is it grout.

You know that our Pastor has begun a new Sunday morning series called “Family Planning”.  Not in the reproductive kind of way but in how a family supports each other spiritually, emotionally, physically.  Yesterday his message was on marriage and while I had already made my decision about how to move forward it was like the message was God-ordained to be given yesterday- just for me.  I have a long road ahead of me.  My Grandma told me about my Grandfather and that she’d been through all this as well but she was rash and made decisions that she wishes she didn’t make.  A side-note: My Grandma is the best woman in the world.  For two days I didn’t know how to pick up the phone to call her.  I wanted my Grandma and I wanted my Mama.  I just wanted a hug and had no where to turn to get one.  I didn’t know who to call or what to say if they had picked up the phone.  The Man and I had a conversation and everything he had sugar coated and lied about and simply omitted came to the fore.  It hurt, I am not even gonna lie- but I think that really I was already numb to it all- which was probably the best way for me to hear what needed to be said. I can’t say more right now…just because it needs to go back into its compartment.   One day at a time and only as much time to think of it that doesn’t render me incapable of doing anything.

Like I didn’t and do not have enough on my plate to deal with my Mama was arrested for felony theft and some old warrants originated in 1995 and we thought had been taken care of two and a half years ago.  Right now, that is about as much as I am going to say because it does require a bit more mulling over.

Actually right now I don’t think I can deal with dealing with it- if that makes sense.  So, I’ll get back to this in some way, shape, or form in the possibly near future.

I’ll leave you with two very random thoughts:

1.  My hot water hose on the drier must not be on tight Because as I sit here I can see water flowing in my general direction

2. I really like Almond milk.  Just regular- not the vanilla flavored one.  Try it… its nice

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