Tag Archives: illness

Thinking

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5-30-10                 4:29am

Is this what pretty girls feel like?

I’ve never had a problem with guys. They simply have not been interested. Except the over 40, creepy, crazy crowd and the dirty old men, but they’re easy to deal with. Not so lately. The guy I really liked might as well be dead. But for some reason everyone else, or at least a good portion of else, is now interested in me. I don’t know what changed.

N- asked me out last week, which really threw me off but now I like. But so did two lesbians, whom I turned down. Tonight it was the drunk guy who thought I was married to Uncle Dave. There is a quasi-business contact I have that I need to keep who woke me up today to ask me to a Padre game, or a movie, or dinner, or to go square dancing, or God knows what else. I can’t stand this guy but he’s so overly happy to talk to me. And I’m talking to a friend online now. I said that I’m craving Vienna pickles and that I hate feeling hungry. He comes back with, “And I’m craving you nake. [sic]” What? What a way to make a girl feel like a piece of meat.

I don’t quite understand, maybe because I’m not a horny guy. But these types of advances are not a turn on, they’re not pleasant, and they’re not welcome. Sure, I like compliments and I like to feel sexy (crying), but I can’t. I just can’t. I need someone to realize that I am not okay. I’m not.

I told him about a piece of meat and he says, “no. not a piece of meat. I would say more like a piece of art. something special. one of a kind.” It’s these things that make me cry. It’s beautiful. But hearing it reminds me that I’m sick. He wants the one thing I cannot or will not give him. I just want not to be ill.

When I was out with N- last week, as I listened and watched I noticed he was full of hope. Me, not so much. I am tired. So tired. And I would like to spend more time with him, but he’s exceedingly busy. I am exceedingly sleepy. And I need more than a few text message every few days.

There are these constant reminders of what I’m not. I didn’t want to go to that party tonight. Not because I don’t like my friend, but because it’s really hard for me to be around people who have what I want and people who are asking me what I do and if I’m in school and all those normal-people questions. I don’t drink, I don’t work, I don’t want to talk about my group, I don’t drive or have a boyfriend, and I don’t want to talk about any of it.

Gosh I hate myself right now. I don’t want to be having this conversation. (on FB) He asks the tough questions. They remind me of who I am and who I don’t want to be. I feel sad…

Ah damn. Light out already? Gimme a break, sun. I hate Daylight Savings. And I still want a Vienna pickle.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

My Hypothalamus Hates Me

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5-30-10                 1:22am

Not being able to regulate my body temperature is driving me insane. Like tonight my body is very hot and I can’t stand anything touching me. Not even my bracelet or hair clip. Yet I have goosebumps and feel cold. And hot. The other day when I walked a mile I was exhausted. It was too much for me. I should have been hot. I couldn’t breathe but I was freezing to the touch. My coldness astounded me. And sometimes parts of me are cold while others are hot, for no apparent reason. I get fever blisters from my lips being so hot. My hypothalamus hates me.

The hypothalamus doesn’t just affect temperature though. It also controls hunger, thirst, memory, blood pressure, pupil dilation, circadian rhythms, heart rate, bladder contraction, sweating, hormones. It’s the Grand Central Station of the brain. The fact that mine hates me could explain my cravings, funky heart rate, weird memory, odd pupils, vampire hours and a bunch of other things.

I’m going to name my hypothalamus Happy. Happy the Hyper/Hypo Hypothalamus. He’s bipolar. I love him anyway. But I wish he would settle down. So fickle.

I wish I had a name for this. Happy doesn’t always make me so happy.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Money

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5-27-10                 3:41am

I feel so very tired tonight, and sad. I’m here with my book light again. Tomorrow marks one year from my last admission. It’s been a long year.

Tonight I think about money. How it affects and limits me. M- asked awhile back on FB if you’d rather grow up rich or poor. I’ve thought about that a lot. I’m glad I grew up poor, that I can truly appreciate. But I could use some money now.

It’s like being trapped. My mom drives me nuts. She is my x-factor. I can’t stand her and I can’t change her, but I can’t move out. Why? No money. I’m not going to get more money. It’s not going to change. I have to figure out how to deal with it.

I don’t want lots of money, so much I don’t know what to do with. N- was talking Sunday about the average starting salary for his dream job. It was in the hundreds of thousands. I asked what he would do with that kind of money. He said, “I know. Really.” But I mean it. What does a person do with that? I don’t even know what that looks like.

I just want to not have to worry about money, to be able to be free and not tied to so many things. I don’t enjoy scouring a menu for the cheapest thing or not going out ‘cuz I can’t afford it. Money may seem trivial to some but it changes things.

I don’t claim it would solve all my problems, but even my life at USC was better. If I didn’t have to worry about the cost, how would my life be different? What would I do or change?

  • I would be less dependent on others, less limited
  • I would move out
  • I would get new glasses for me & Mom
  • I could get the dental work I need
  • I could dance (body pending)
  • I could order food I want instead of food my wallet wants
  • I might be able to get an answer to my medical problems. Doctors are NOT motivated by Medi-Medi
  • I could buy things like M’s bag just because I want to.

That bag has caused me much grief today. It’s beautiful. I want to be able to just buy it, but I can’t. He said it’s a bag “you” can afford. I’m not a part of that you. An affordable designer bag is still almost 20% of my income for the month. I could buy the bag with the last of my credit, but instead of feeling pretty while carrying it I would be plagued with guilt. That’s no way to carry a purse. My current purse cost $9 at WalMart and has taken my abuse for the past 5 months. I’m impressed. But it doesn’t decrease my desire for this purse or my anger and sadness that I cannot indeed have it. It also doesn’t make me any less aware that I do not NEED that bag.

When I look at something I want there is this fight in my head. The question is not just can I afford that? It’s do I deserve it? Because if I can’t afford it, then surely I don’t deserve it. But there’s a part of me that believes I do deserve it and gets pissed that I can’t have it. Why can’t I have x? I’m a good person. Why is this happening to me?! It becomes more existential crisis than shopping trip.

What I can afford affects how I present myself and how I’m perceived, defines a part of who I am. So I never know just who I am. There are these many different parts in different clothes with different roles, that eat different foods & wear different shoes. And I’m treated differently for every one of them. They’re all me but in different tax brackets.

I just want to be me and free. But that requires money.

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5-29-10                 1:41am

I thought more about money yesterday and what it can’t buy me, what it can’t change.

Money can’t change my health. It can’t take away the days I can’t move or talk. It can’t bring me closer to the people I love. And all the money in the world couldn’t buy me someone who cares about me like my mom does. She may drive me nuts but she’s always there.

I’m grateful not to have many days like yesterday. I’m so exhausted. So sick. I had some good hours today & a long nap. But money can’t change that. It can’t bring me back.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Help & A Magic Dress

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5-11-10                 6:04pm

M- posted this this morning:

What would you do if you knew someone needed your help, but you knew there was nothing you could do to help?

I’ve been thinking about it all day.

I find myself in that position often. So many people want or need my help, but I often don’t have it to give. I pray. And call my contacts. I have an extensive network of colleagues and resources. I usually know someone who can help or know someone who does. But there are situations that can’t be fixed, hearts that can’t be mended, questions that have no answers.

The short answer is – I pray. And I hurt. I have to accept there is nothing I can do. It’s not easy. And sometimes there is something I could do but it would hurt me to do it and I have to say no. And sometimes I have the perfect solution but it’s not my problem to fix.

Helping people is tricky. Many times I find what people are looking for is not a solution but comfort. Someone who will listen, a hug, a note just to say you care. For me, just being near people who mean a lot to me helps. Like Sacha. Her voice and her presence, for the most part, are calming to me. If there’s nothing I can do, it’s not my help they need.

I run a non-profit support organization for people with mood disorders and their friends and family. I see a lot of people in crisis. I get 3am phone calls, emails and texts 24/7. I’m the designated crisis person because I know what to do, what to say, who to call or not call and why. But it takes a serious toll on me. And it’s taken many years to realize that I can’t save them all. It’s not my responsibility. Does it hurt me to watch some suffer? You bet. But, for my own sake, I can’t save them all.

So I do what I can do, what I’m willing to, and I pray. God, please hold this person. They’re hurting and there’s nothing I can do. Then I make sure I have the support and comfort I need. Helplessness eats at me, especially if who I can’t help is special to me.

I also find it frustrating when I’m the one asking for help and there are no answers, there is no response. It would be nice sometime to find someone like me who will do everything in their power to find an answer. Until then I pray, and write, and sing, and accept, and help people. Every day.

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5-12-10                 2:17am

I love what he said later: “I just wish I could make a magic dress that when worn would heal anyone of sickness or woe.”

That would be such a beautiful dress. I close my eyes and smile just to think of it… Makes me feel light yellow and reminds me of the little yellow house I dreamed someday to own. :) I don’t know of a dress that can heal but the one I bought for my birthday this year made woes goes away for awhile. I was still sick but when I wore that dress I felt beautiful. And that feeling, that feeling like I was worth it and could conquer the world, won out for awhile. Just one night. I remember that feeling. It didn’t matter that I was sick. I just felt good. I didn’t want to take it off…

Tonight it makes me wonder why if everyone’s searching for the answers we haven’t found them yet. I don’t know. A magic dress. Why not? Are clinical trials required for healing articles of clothing? Hmmm… Sign me up! :)

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010