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Some bad stuff

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When I stopped coming by here, I also cut myself off from just about everyone.  If it hadn't been for my best friend's parents, I'd have never left the house this entire time.  Nothing seemed worth it anymore.  It was all too much, and i couldn't deal with it.  Then things got worse.

A friend of mine died.  She was 43.  She'd suffered from Lupus for over a decade, had lived longer than either she or her doctors thought she would, but 43 is just too damn young.


A week after Rhonda died, my niece, my beautiful, funny, sweet-tempered niece, was raped.  It was a 15 year old neighbour that did it.  He tore her up so badly inside that she was hospitalised for two days.  She now believes there is a curse on the women in our family, since it's happened to all of us.  She's terrified for her younger sister.  It's brought back some horrible memories for me, and all I've wanted to do was curl up under a rock and whimper.  Can't do that, though.


And oh, yeah.  My ex-husband is losing his job.  No more child support from him.  No more rent money.  No more apartment?

Klonopin has become my new bestest buddy.

I guess it's not all that bad, looking at it in black and white.  Others have gone through worse.

It's not all doom and gloom.  My best friend is enjoying life as a trucker.  It's hard, not having him here, but we spend a lot of time together when he's home.  We're going to see Trans-Siberian Orchestra together next month.  It's giving me something to look forward to.

And we got a kitten.  He's four months old, a grey and black tiger-striped cutie.  We've named him Uno.  He keeps me entertained while my son is at school. 

...And so life goes on at La Casa della Blatta.

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But you're back posting with us, and thats the best thing---the more you can chat with us, the more you can ratttle on about nonsensical or earth-shakingly important things in your life, the easier it is to cope.  Trust me on this one--

I am glad you are back, and you do sound positive--hang in there.

We're here, bitch and moan, gtipe, say what a wonderful fuck you had last nite, say anything--just talk to us.  We're here.

Love, China Ramone

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Thanks, China.

I forgot to mention what probably started it all.  After the time in the crazy hospital and all that.  I was referred to neuro about the olfactory halucinations I get.  They thought I might be epileptic.  I was sent for an MRI. 



I never, N-E-V-E-R want to go through one of those fucking things ever again.  I do not care if they tell me my head will spontaniously detatch itself from my neck if i don't have it, I'm NOT GONNA DO IT.  FUCK THAT!

I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail, and never realised how fucking long it was gonna take in that hellish machine.  The ponytail elastic began putting pressure on the back of my head.  The longer it went on, the worse it hurt, until all I could think about was how badly it hurt and how I couldn't move and oh my god someone get me fucking out of here!!!!!

I had the mother of all panic attacks. 

I managed to walk back to the waiting room where my best friend was, and told him it was time to go.  I got out of the hospital as fast as I could, and made it to the car before totally breaking down. 


Want to know the worst part of it all?  Neuro called to cancel my appointment because the doctor had to go out of town.  The receptionist said they'd send me a new appointment by mail.  Four months later, and I still haven't received one.  I figure if there was something wrong, they'd have sent me the new appointment.  So despite having a seizure and smelling bad things, I'm not epileptic.

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Once again China has a way of seeing through to the important issues.

Your perspective must be good to handle the bad, yet see the beauty of a kitten.



Is it a good perspective, or am I just too damn stubborn to give up?

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