my mom is, at the moment, roughly a block away doing laundry. (bless her.) before leaving, she said something like, "We are no longer making decisions in the moment. we are doing this because we planned to do this" - and even though I know she was, almost undoubtedly, using the royal we, and not referring to me, I'm upset now. (because it's so difficult to upset me.) I still feel like shit, and even so - she suggested I shower and go to this shindig... and... I want to go; this is probably the equivalent of Christmas for my extended family on her side... and I *want* to see certain people, I *want* to be present because I *want* these relationships... but on the other hand, I feel so sick, and even though I got a little sleep, I still feel sick. and even though I took my mom's advice, which was to shower (and go), I still feel sick. to make things even more enjoyable, I want to bang my head against a wall because I can't be sick. not tonight. it's like missing Lindsey's phone calls. I am physically and/or emotionally destroyed so often that I decide I must not really be. I must not really be sick because I feel this way all the time. I can't really be "not feeling well" because I'm supposedly "not feeling well" every time one of these family get-togethers comes along. never mind the fact that I've been feeling sick since before I knew about this gathering; in fact - emphasize that face - because that's just more proof that I'm not really sick. I'm faking! that's it; I'm faking. just like I did unconsciously when I was a kid and consciously when I was an adolescent to get out of something I don't want to do. except, I want to go. a large part of me wants to go. I'm halfway dressed to leave. (and halfway in my pajamas because my mom's doing the laundry.) if I don't go, I'm going to feel like nothing's changed in the past five years. if I go, I'll have to somehow manage feeling like snot while being social. tranquilizer, anyone?
oh, and. my mom decided to tell me how I should go easy on myself about the whole feeling-sick thing (even though she thinks I should go) because... dunh-dunh-dunnnnh I just did that whole Thing In New York. there is not an "oy" big enough to house how tired I am of hearing about how New York has affected me. of course it's affected me. of course, I'm probably annoyed partly because she (and the 20,000 other people who've been like, "but look what you just finished doing") are onto something. but the fact that I wasn't sleeping or was having nightmares, and was feeling crappy, etc, etc, etc, before I went to New York, before I even prepared to go to New York... doesn't seem to sink in with anyone. maybe I should take Monday and discuss physical health with the doctor. because to be totally honest, my physical health sucks. obviously, I'm not well-rested. I have sinus and allergy and breathing issues that make me feel like shit every single day, but have done so for so long that it doesn't occur to me to do something about them. (except on very rare occasions when I realize that doing something would probably mean taking something, and bang my head against the wall because I can't possibly take any more pills.) there's the concussion I have from banging my head against the wall so often. there's my mouth plague, which still fires up every now and again, just in case I start to think I might like a little pepper here and there, or that I don't need to worry about waking up with blood drying in my mouth and staining my pillowcases. (and the gross-out image of the day goes to...) there's the neverending lack of energy. and a few zillion other things. but every time I bring any of it up, it's the same "well, it might be an independent problem or it might be a result of the circumstances as they are now, so let's wait awhile and see" and then we wait awhile, and things still suck, but the circumstances still suck, so we never, ever know how to make me feel *well* for a whole, you know, minute. and I am, to be redundent, fucking sick of it.
my decision for this week: I am going to stop eating junk, (or rather, I'm going to start eating good food; I don't care if I eat junk so long as I also eat things with actual nutritional value) and barring a total medical breakdown I'm going to attempt to reinstate the 5 out of 7 days "out" goal. that's a secondary hope because I do need to get out more (again)... but I will as soon as I'm feeling better, and I'm not going to torture myself. damnit. I don't think this party shit is happening. suck. I know the majority of my extended family wouldn't approve of who I've grown to be, and I know an even larger majority of them wouldn't talk to me long enough to know who that is... but I'd still like to show up at their functions once in awhile. the missing-in-action, too-sick-to-socialize girl is the Peter Pan to my Cathy Rigby. I can't play it again; I just can't. so why do I never feel up to showing them who I am now? why must I be truly too-sick-to-socialize, randomly, after years of hiding out in physical illness to quiet down the mental suck? (i.e. I used to miss gatherings because I was Sick - Rogers-needing sick; now I miss them because I'm normal-person sick. But apparently I get to be normal-person-sick all the time, which is of course, not normal at all.
if I leave the doctor a message tonight, he won't get it before our appointment tomorrow. (four out of five psychics agree.) so we'll just see how I do bringing it up. it just seems like such a waste of words after Friday's session. Friday's session was important. but then, I thought that one would be a waste of words as well. ("why the fuck does THIS matter? I shouldn't even mention it.") and feeling too sick physically to get well in other realms is worth mentioning. and nightmares that suck the life out of me and make me freak out about my heart are worth mentioning. I could even throw in the crustaceon/ insect hybrids that plant themselves (or burrow into) skin and grow so freaking gigantic. he already knows about the violent mobs, and the rest of the regular nighttime Ick.
damnit. I want to talk about Friday - something absolutely unbelievable happened (on top of the important session.) I want to talk about things like that, but it seems I'm only good for whining at the moment. good old, whine-collecting journal.
SPUUUCK.
~me