Warning: Long, profanity filled rant ahead. Proceed with caution.
This is what we like to call a brain dump. I know this blog has been filled with them lately, but I’m starting to believe someone is filming me for some reality show where they see how much shit I can take before I snap. Thank god for vodka and blogging, or I’d be checked into a mental institution months ago.
For ease of readability, I’ve decided to use headers. Yes, it really has come to that. The bullshit is flying at me from virtually every direction, so I feel the need to break it down into CATEGORIES. My life has become a series of categories ffs.
Last month my doctor ordered a bunch of tests, asked me to wait a month to have them done to make sure my HCG had gone completely down since it can influence some of the test results. Today I went in to get SEVEN vials of blood drawn. Yes, you read that right SEVEN huge ass vials of blood. I made the mistake of being curious about what tests were being run that required that much blood, and the phlebotomist made the mistake of telling me. My doctor is having me tested for lupus, among other things. The phlebotomist led with lupus and I tuned out the minute I heard that, so I’m not sure if it gets better or worse. Given the trend my life is taking these last few months, I’m going to assume the worst. And of course, the tests have to be sent to an outside lab, so its going to take a few days to get the results back.
I’ve only ever known one person who had lupus, and I haven’t seen her in years, so I didn’t even have anyone to tell me what I could expect if I was diagnosed with lupus. And don’t tell me to google, I have no desire to see what the internet has to offer in regards to medical diagnosis. WebMD is the bane of my existence, and I refuse to freak myself out like that. Nope, not going to happen. So I did the only thing a sane and rational person would do: I asked my mom to get in contact with the woman I knew who had it. They are around the same age and were friends for a really long time before my parents moved to another state. And then I found out my mom’s friend had a stroke.
My mom and this woman are around the same age and she just had a fucking STROKE?!?! Are you kidding me? I don’t know if its connected to the lupus or not (still refuse to google), but ffs, that was the LAST thing I needed to hear. So now I’m a ball of fucking nerves thinking I’m going to be severely disabled before I hit 65. So there’s that. And the whole I have no idea why I keep fucking miscarrying thing hanging over my head.
My brother joined the military, my SiL has the tact of cakes shaped like dicks, and my dad told my husband last weekend that his doctor is considering putting him on INSULIN because his type 2 diabetes is out of fucking control because he refuses to change his diet. And the drug he is currently on to control his diabetes is destroying his fucking liver. So there’s all that.
Oh! And there’s all of Joe’s family relationship drama, but that’s so low on my list I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, people be crazy yo. Not my monkeys, not my circus. I’ll just keep repeating that until I’m mumbling it semi incoherently at work. Which brings me to work. Fuckity fuck fuck.
We lost a major client because a former sales person with the company pretty much stole them out from under us, an employee stole roughly $75,000 from the company, we almost lost a client that would have put the company out of business in a matter of months, and one of our major vendors is having such a severe customer service problem that we’re considering finding another vendor if they don’t shape up.
Oh and the employee that stole from the company? They gave it all back so not only did my bosses not press charges, they gave them their fucking job back. Yup. Not my monkeys, not my circus. Not my monkeys, not my fucking circus. Say it with me folks: Not my monkeys, not my circus.
AND. The problem with the vendor. They pretty much control the market for the products they provide to us, by a pretty sizable margin. So it would be damn near impossible to find another vendor who could offer us the prices they do with the product selection we need. And their customer service department knows that, so I doubt any real long lasting change is going to come from confronting them about the problem. The director of their customer service department is promising changes, but at the end of the day, they can only do so much.
I am, quite obviously, having trouble dealing with all this bullshit. Pretty sure everyone would be experiencing some mental backlash from this amount of stress, so I’m not horribly concerned at this point, but I’m watching for the telltale signs that I’m entering a depressive episode. The panic attacks have been more frequent, but I’m dealing. Its the dreams that are getting to me. I’ll spare you the details of this area of my life, but the man I call my dad isn’t biologically my father. He stepped up to the plate when my biological father couldn’t/wouldn’t give up a nasty drug habit to support his growing family. After my mom left him, I never saw him again, at least as far as I know. My sisters tell me he died a long time ago, but I’ve never really looked into it, mostly because I have no interest in having any kind of relationship with him. I just accepted it and moved on.
So naturally, my subconscious has decided he’s not really dead. That my sisters have been lying to me for over 10 years at this point, and he’s about to knock on my front door any fucking second and want to have a father/daughter relationship like nothing ever happened. While I forgave him for my own sanity a very long time ago, I’ve been burned by enough people in the past that I’m gun shy about opening up to people who have hurt me and the people I care about in the past. And I’ve been having the same dream for the better part of a month now, and its just mentally draining. I wake up after exhausted, and its coloring my interactions with virtually everyone. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve started to suspect my whole fucking family, Joe included, knows and has been lying to me this entire time. I wouldn’t say I’m paranoid, because what the fuck am I going to do if they have lied to me, but if they don’t stop soon I don’t know how much more I can handle before I just snap. And I don’t want to go there. I would do anything to not go there, even if it meant taking medication to make the dreams stop.
The migraines have returned since my last miscarriage, but they’re not as bad as they were before. I’m still dieting and exercising, I’ve lost almost 15 pounds at this point, and physically I just feel much better. If anything, the running has been helping me stay sane. I can’t explain it, but I just feel more centered after a run, like I can conquer anything life has to throw at me. And then life throws me rapid fire curve balls to see if it can shake my resolve. Some days are better than others, and I hate being such a debbie downer lately, I swear there are positives, they’re just so small in comparison to everything else that I’m having a hard time seeing how awesome life can be.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. It was incredibly cathartic to write this all out, and I appreciate it if you’ve made it to the end. I’m going to leave you with a video that a friend sent to me today while we were talking. I’ll be playing this on loop tomorrow on my way to work, and I hope it can help even just one person: