Physics: Interesting, Clever and More Potent For Napping Than Nyquil.

I feel:: sleepy

I got this link from my friend Incurable Hippie. If you like watching elaborate sets of dominoes being run, then you'll love this~The Incredible Machine

It also made me want to take a nap really badly, despite the two large cups of coffee I've had today. I haven't had that kind of experience since watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. It's clever.

Watch it with the sound down, though. The background music made me want to rip my hair out.


The MaybeprospectivenewPastor And My DefinitelyfuckedupPancreas

I feel:: afraid, cautious and watchful

I was anxious about going to church yesterday because I didn't think I could handle another crying jag like last week. It was good, though. The maybe new-prospective pastor taught. What he said about reaching out to people really resonated with me. I felt like my insides were vibrating.

After ther sermon was over, I was going to introduce myself to Dana, the pastor who taught, but there were like 5 or 6 people surrounding him. I stood in line for a few minutes knowing that Marshall was sitting at the end of the pew right next to where I was standing. I don't know if he was staring at me or what, but the longer I stood next to him the more anxious I got. So, I looked around for an escape and saw Dana's wife, Melody, standing by herself in the next pew over. She seemed to be feeling a bit out of place listening to a convo between Kacey and Renita. So, instead of prolonging my anxiety by waiting in line to meet Dana and standing less than an arm's length away from Marshall, I moved into the next pew and introduced myself to Melody. At first, it was the usual small talk. That didn't last very long, thank God.

She started asking me all sorts of questions about myself and soon we were deep in convo and I felt like I was spilling my guts to her; like I had just slit a vein and was bleeding all over her. I told her about Sold Out, about all of my past abuse; I mean everything. I told her about my daily struggle with the feeling that God had betrayed me and how I was still in so much pain because of the things that have happened to me. I honestly didn't plan on going up to her and laying all of that on her. I told her so and she said a scripture to me which made my eyes widen in surprise and caused my heart to skip a beat. She said, "Just remember the scripture, ' I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me' ". I was so surprised that I blurted out, "Oh my God, I woke up with that scripture in my head this morning and I totally put it on my blog before I came to church." She said, calmly, "Well, that's a confirmation that God is speaking to you."(I realize that chartalans and so-called psychics and mediums so this sort of thing all the time out of selfish motives to make people trust them. [For the record: I'm not against real psychics and mediums.] I'm not unaware and I'm not being sucked in. Whenever this has happened to me regarding God, this sort of confirmation has never failed to be right.)We continued to talk after that, my thoughts of Marshall just an erratic blip on the screen of my memory. She ended by praying for me while holding both of my hands in hers.

Afterwards, I still felt really shaky physically. I knew it was my blood sugar level being low that was making me feel so unbalanced. I drove home intending on eating some kind of protein to level myself out, but instead and because I was so hungry (I had forgotten to eat breakfast.), I grabbed the first thing I saw which happened to be two pans of muffins that Dad had made the night before.(I'm paying for that little binge in spades today since I am allergic to the wheat in the muffins. I have felt like I've been having a constant asthma attack all day. Fun times.) I think there were 10 or 12. I ate all of them and promptly sugar crashed a few minutes later. I slept like the dead until about 7:30pm. I'm not sure, but I think I fell asleep around 2:30-3:00pm. When I woke, I was very groggy and shaky again, so I heated some soup (Split Pea and Ham) and ate it. That seemed to stop the shaking for a while.

I tried to go to bed around 10:30pm (trying to follow Dr.'s orders about going to bed at the same time every night and getting up at the same time every morning), but I kept having these vivid memories of the last time I was raped and driving back to Scott and Renita's in a state that was beyond hysterical. I tried to watch a movie, but that really didn't help either. So, I gave into my old standby: junk food binging. I ate nearly a whole package of Oreos. It wasn't full to begin with because Dad had eaten some, but there were still a good half of the package let. I ate all of them, save 4, which I gave to Dad. (Again with the wheat products and sugar. Oy.)

I woke this morning shaking more violently than usual, so I decided to do a blood sugar check just to see if it was really my blood sugar making me shake or if it was my anxiety. (I've been doing a little studying on the internet about hypoglycemia and rapidly changing blood sugar levels and it turns out that low blood sugar can cause anxiety by the body attempting to compensate for the lowness of the blood sugar by dumping adrenaline into the blood stream; hence the shakiness, confusion, rapid heart rate, dizziness...etc. These are all too familiar to me.) My blood sugar was so low that it didn't even register on the monitor. It just displayed "Lo". When I looked up what that meant in the user manual, it said that the device will register "Lo" when blood sugar is below 20 and warned me in no uncertain terms that I should call a doctor immediately. But, since I'm broke and as stubborn as a mule, I didn't make any calls. Instead, I fed the cats, made coffee, and loaded up on supplements which I took with a very large glass of Vanilla Soy Milk.

I've decided to cut sugar and all carbs (except veggies) out of my diet completely. This way of eating is the only way I've ever been able to control my blood sugar levels.

Here's a chart of what I ate and what my blood sugar levels were throughout the day today (from my written journal):

BSL(blood sugar level) before eating: 20 or below
Ate: 11:28am 2 Bratwurst with spicy mustard
Drank: 1 large glass Van. Soy Milk + 1 cup unsweetened coffee (thank God for Splenda)

**will check BSL again in 2 hours**

Reminder: Start buying unsweetened Soy Milk and do away with the Chocolate kind completely.

Took Supplements and Meds
B-12 (sublingual)
Vit. B Complex
N-Acetyl L-Cysteine
Cell Forte
L-Lysine Complex

(out of Prozac until tomorrow)

It's time to get serious about my health. I don't want to slip into Diabetes.

BSL: 1:38pm 110
Ate: approx. 4pm- 2-8oz pieces of baked chicken
3 small red potatoes
1 serving green beans
Drank: 1 Lg glass Van. Soy Milk

**will check BSL again in 2 hours**

BSL: 6pm 113 (so far BSL avg. for day is 74.3-I think pretty low.)
BSL: 7:30pm 104 (started to feel shaky again sort of like this morning so took it again-now BSL day avg. is up a bit to 81.75-better)

Drank: approx 10pm 6oz Chocolate Soy Milk (what was left in the carton)
Took: with Soy Milk my last 2 Klonopin for the day

**will check BSL again in 2 hours if I'm still awake**


It's A 2 Klonopin Church Day

I feel: still somewhat shaky

I'm feeling really shaky this morning. I don't know if it's because of my blood sugar or my anxiety, or both. I talked to a guy who I go to church with the other day and he asked me if I was going to be coming to church this Sunday to hear our maybe prospective new pastor teach. While I'd like to hear him teach, I don't want a repeat of last week's cry-a-thon. I'm anxious about seeing Marshall. I don't really know why I give a shit, but I hope this Sunday he doesn't treat me like the Invisible Woman again. I told my friend Ashley about that. I asked her,"What would you think if someone you had known for 15 years walked right by you in a small room, looked straight at you and didn't say a word. Then proceeded to avoid you for the rest of the time you were there?" She said, "Unless he was in a hurry (he wasn't), or had something on his mind (I can't know what he was thinking. I just supposed that it was to get as far away from me as possible.), then that was really rude. You don't deserve to be treated like that. No one does." I have to run things like this past my friends because, although, for some reason I'm really good at looking at other people's lives objectively, I can't seem to do that with my own. Like I wasn't even sure if I should have been upset or not because I wasn't really sure if what he did was rude.

I was going to write this down in my written journal. You know, sort of have a quiet morning writing, drinking coffee and listening to music, but my hands are shaking way too badly to try to write. It would come out looking like a second-grader wrote it. So, instead, I'm typing, listening to music and drinking coffee (and constantly having to adjust the volume on my Winamp player. I don't know if it's just me being sensitive this morning or if the music actually does get louder in places.) I am trying to fend off another one of my headaches this morning. This time I made my own coffee just in case the church ladies are waiting en masse in the coffee shop again this morning, besides I don't need to spend 5 dollars on one cup of coffee (I would do it if I had a job, but since I don't. I don't have any source of income and 5 dollars for a cup of coffee seems exorbitant to me right now. Even if it is the mother of all large Lattes.) and I don't need all that sugar.

In that vein, I've decided to cut way down on my sugar and carb intake. Something has to be done about my weight. I can almost guarantee that when I step on the scale tomorrow to check my weekly weight, there won't be any loss. Probably no gain either, so at least that's a good thing. The carbs and sugar make my blood sugar levels crazy and that, in turn, adds to the craziness of my mood swings. (I'm remembering an incident at WalMart several years ago with Sally during the Christmas season when we were in the Christmas section. I was wanting to buy ornaments for my dinky tree, but when I checked my wallet, I had like 2 dollars. I thought I had more money than that. It was then that I yelled/lamented very loudly, "WHY DO I NEVER HAVE ANY FUCKING MONEY?" This incident was about 15 minutes after I had eaten a rather large piece of chocolate cake. So, you get the picture. When I looked around for Sally, I think she had snuck off to the Hardware section or something. Probably embarrassed that I was screaming in WalMart.) Also, my back is killing me practically all the time because of the weight I've gained. And lets not even talk about how big my breasts are. Oy. Jesus, I feel like a big piece of flab.

So, here's my verse to keep running through my head on that loopy conveyor belt I call my brain:
Phi 4:13 I can do everything through Christ who strengthens me.

All I can say now, is please give me strength. Church shouldn't be a place where I feel trepidation at the thought of going. I'm going to be late as it is, so maybe I can get my usual place in the corner of the very back pew.

The Scripures that were taught today:
Luk 10:25-37
Luk 10:25 Cierto intérprete de la ley (experto en la Ley de Moisés) se levantó, y para poner a prueba a Jesús dijo: "Maestro, ¿qué haré para heredar la vida eterna?"
Luk 10:26 Y Jesús le dijo: "¿Qué está escrito en la Ley? ¿Qué lees en ella?"
Luk 10:28 Entonces Jesús le dijo: "Has respondido correctamente; HAZ ESTO Y VIVIRAS."
Luk 10:29 Pero queriendo él justificarse a sí mismo, dijo a Jesús: "¿Y quién es mi prójimo?"
Luk 10:30 Jesús le respondió: "Cierto hombre bajaba de Jerusalén a Jericó, y cayó en manos de salteadores, los cuales después de despojarlo y de darle golpes, se fueron, dejándolo medio muerto.
Luk 10:31 "Por casualidad cierto sacerdote bajaba por aquel camino, y cuando lo vio, pasó por el otro lado del camino.
Luk 10:32 "Del mismo modo, también un Levita, cuando llegó al lugar y lo vio, pasó por el otro lado del camino.
Luk 10:33 "Pero cierto Samaritano, que iba de viaje, llegó adonde él estaba; y cuando lo vio, tuvo compasión.
Luk 10:34 "Acercándose, le vendó sus heridas, derramando aceite y vino sobre ellas; y poniéndolo sobre su propia cabalgadura, lo llevó a un mesón y lo cuidó.
Luk 10:35 "Al día siguiente, sacando dos denarios (salario de dos días) se los dio al mesonero, y dijo: 'Cuídelo, y todo lo demás que gaste, cuando yo regrese se lo pagaré.'
Luk 10:36 "¿Cuál de estos tres piensas tú que demostró ser prójimo del que cayó en manos de los salteadores?"
Luk 10:37 El intérprete de la ley respondió: "El que tuvo misericordia de él." "Ve y haz tú lo mismo," le dijo Jesús.


We are butt dust

I feel: surprisingly well today

I found this on a friend of mine's lj and it's just so funny that I had to post it here:

An important lesson for all preachers:
"Dear Lord," the minister began, with arms extended toward heaven and a rapturous look on his upturned face. "Without you, we are but dust." He would have continued but at that moment a young girl - who was clearly listening! - leaned over to her mother and asked quite audibly, "Mommy, what is butt dust?"


Thought Ya'll Might Like To Hear Something That I Listen To Nearly Every Day.

I feel:: tired and anxious

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Friday: I cried.

I feel:: disappointed
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Over The Rhine~Lifelong Fling

My birthday sort of sucked this year. On Friday, the 19th, I found out that the job I really wanted I didn't get. The guy I interviewed with told me that I was all but hired. I called him on Friday morning at about 8:15am; he said that they were going to make a decision that day as to who got to go on to a second interview with the chief of the department. So, naturally, that knowledge put me in a high state of anxiety, especially because of his last comment while we were on the phone, which was, "So, If you don't hear from us today, then that would be really bad."

I carried my phone with me everywhere I went in the house that day. Actually, I didn't really do anything that day. I just laid in bed listening to music and staring at the ceiling clutching my cell phone in my hand. The closer it got to 4:30pm, which is the time their office closes, the more anxious I got. 4:30 came and went and still I could do nothing but lay in bed and wallow in my anxiety. Finally, at about 6pm, I couldn't stand it anymore. At that point, I knew I had been passed over, but I was so anxious and angry that I jumped out of bed thinking to myself, "Fuck it. I'm calling his cell phone." When he answered, he sounded really surprised that it was me. I bluntly asked him why I wasn't chosen to go on to a second interview. His answer was that I didn't have enough accounting experience and that the two who were chosen for the second interview had heavy accounting experience.

I guess he felt like he needed to reassure me because right after he told me that, he began to say things like, "You're intelligent," and "You're so bright," and "You interviewed really well," and my favorite, "You'll get a job at UAMS. I promise." At the time, I was so upset that I didn't realize that the reason he was saying those things was because the excuse he had just given me about accounting experience was bullshit (Although, even through my anxiety, I could recognize empty plattitudes. Like he really gives a shit.). He felt guilty. There was nothing said in my interview that heavy accounting experience was incumbent on my getting hired. It was mentioned in passing only. Furthermore, when I met the girl whom I thought I was going to replace, she explained to me every aspect of her job (My interview lasted an hour and half. She had time.) and it included very little accounting, only basic math. It was mainly a purchasing position; purchasing things for certain doctors as needed and making sure that they got reimbursed for their per diems when they had to travel to the various clinics connected to the Developmental Center which were all around the state. I didn't find this to be challenging at all. I mean, I'd have to learn how they did it procedure-wise, but my god, how hard could it be?

After I got of the phone with him, I still couldn't do anything but lay silent in bed. Then, Sally called wanting to know if I still wanted to go see the DaVinci Code with she and Tanya. It was supposed to be part of my birthday present. When Sally asked me what was wrong (Sally has been my friend for 10 years, she can tell by the sound of my voice when I'm upset even if I'm trying to hide it.), I completely broke down and started crying hysterically. I couldn't really even talk. Sally tried to comfort me, but I was in such a state having held in all that anxiety all day, that I couldn't be comforted. I tried to tell her that I needed to get off the phone because I was obviously to hysterical to talk, but she didn't understand what I said, which is understandable, I barely understood what I had said. So, I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak semi-coherently and repeated myself. Thankfully, I managed to get it out so that it was intelligible. Sally said she understood and that she loved me.

When I got off the phone with her, I couldn't stop crying. I cried the rest of the that night and into the next day. I did manage to sleep during that time because I think by the end of the day, I had taken 8 Klonopin (and because of all the crying, I had given myself one hell of a migraine) and 2 of those Esgic Plus headache pills from Dad's store. I wanted to be numb. I was having suicidal and self-injury thoughts and I knew that the only way I could get those voices to be silent was to take as much numbing medication as I could stand. I realize that this is not the best way to deal with anxiety and being upset. I've already been lectured to by Sally and Tanya on the dangers of overdosing on Klonopin. I haven't taken that much since last Friday. I've been sticking to the prescribed dosages.

Ever since that day, I've been thinking about why getting that job was so important to me. I guess I was counting on it to be my chance to get away from my dad. Also, the people who worked in that office seemed more like a family than co-workers. I wanted that family experience at work. I've been looking for that in every job I've ever had, but never found it. I really wanted to feel like part of a family again. Granted, Sally, Tanya, Ashley and Lainie are the closest family I'll ever have (I should consider myself lucky.), but I guess I wanted too much. I wanted that feeling of acceptance and belonging at my job too.

Edit: Sally and Tanya did take me to see The DaVinci Code on Monday night and gave me birthday presents and paid for me to have pancakes at IHOP. Saturday night, Lainie took me to Downtown Records to see some hardcore bands and that was fun. I think I just really needed to veg out and not think about anything, even though I couldn't understand what the singers were saying for the most part, the music was good. So, mostly, everything is better now. Sometimes, I don't realize how much I need them in my life and then the reality smacks me in the face.


I am not inclined at this moment to write anything particularly intelligent or witty, so just listen to the music. It took me a while to figure out how this damn thing works.

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I Gained 4 Pounds This Week. A Perfect Ending To A Fucking Shitty Week.


How Independent Thinking Is A Threat To Even The Most Educated Of Minds

I feel:: pissed as fuck
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Evanescence~Anywhere

Therapy day was yesterday.

After all of the conversation I and my therapist had about what a good idea it would be for me to keep a journal and after all the time that I spent transferring all of my live journal entries to this Blogger site so it would be more printer-friendly because my therapist told me that he wanted me to bring in my journal entries every week so he could read them; after all of that, he told me yesterday, or rather asked me in that all-knowing therapist way, if I thought I was too self-involved. What?

First of all, what would a personal journal be about if it wasn't about me, my life, my thoughts, and what happens to me on a daily basis? I told him, "That's why I made the journal so I could be self-involved. That's the only place I get to release my thoughts, my anger, frustration and basically everything else that goes on in my life. It's about me." (Incidently, I've also begun journaling in my paper journal again. I kind of like it. There's something about putting actual pen to paper. I don't know what it is, but it's sort of calming. No telling what he'll have to say about that. I've also begun a journal keeping track of my weight loss (goals, achievements excersising, body measurements and whatnot), which is also a paper journal. All this journaling...all this independent thinking...it's quite dangerous, don't you think?)

He pointed out one entry that I made on 4/02/06 (that was the "beware of the Jerry Springer shit" post) that was particularly long right before he asked me if I thought I was too self-involved and then wondered aloud if I thought that all this journaling was counter-productive. He didn't specify what it he thought was it was counter-productive to, so all I can do is assume he meant my overall mental state. What?

He asked me then what my daily routine was and how much time I spent on my computer (on average) every day. I told him that I have a certain way I do things when I get up in the mornings: I feed the cats, make coffee, take my meds, maybe eat, then get on the computer to check email and read journals and whatnot. Other than that, my life really doesn't have a routine.

How can you have a routine when you are taking college classes? You never know how much you'll have to study; therefore, you'll never know how much stress you'll be under, so you don't know how much or how little you'll eat or not eat. You never know what time you'll go to bed, because sometimes, you just pass out on your books or at your computer while studying. I also told him that if I don't have anything else to do, like going to class or some other pressing thing, that I might spend anywhere from a couple of hours to approx. six hours on my computer daily. He seemed to think that was too much because, in his opinion, I should be interacting with people in real life. That's a good idea in theory, but there are really very few people that I like in real life; very few people that I trust. I don't think that's weird, but evidently, my therapist does. Do you guys think it's odd? I mean, I can't see that it is because, for one thing, I like to write, and for another, there are so many people that have journals that I read, not only on here, but on Live Journal and Myspace, that sometimes it takes awhile to catch up with what is going on with everyone. How is that being self-involved? Don't we all try to keep up with what is going on in each other's lives and support each other when we can? I don't think that is being self-invovled.

Secondly, regarding that uber-long post I made on 4/02/06, it was all about the history of my eating-disordered thinking, behavior, and how it has affected every facet of my life. Granted, I wrote that post before I ever met my therapist, but if he really wanted to know me in order to help me, it would seem like it would behoove him to take that info into consideration. Seems to me like it would be very useful. Maybe I'm just a super-green undergrad, but that just seems like common sense to me. Another thing: if I had not made that post all at one time, I doubt he would have red-flagged him. If I had just made like 4 or 5 posts out of it, he probably would never have mentioned it.

Thirdly, how many people in this country, or for that matter this state and this city, spend more than 6 hours a day in front of the damn television? I'm beginning to really hate tv. At least when I'm on the computer, I'm using my brain and it's interactive. Watching tv is a non-interactive activity. It sucks your brain right out through your ears what with all the advertisements foisted on you and images of male and female perfection that are completely unattainable for the majority of people. Yes, there are adverts on the internet, but that depends on which sites you go to. I only go to the same sites most of the time and those have relatively nothing to do with advertising. The sites I visit are mostly you guys' journals and other sites about writing. I mean you can tell by just looking at my link list where I go. At least when I'm on the internet, I have some modicum of control over what's being presented to me via which sites I choose to visit, but tv is a whole different ball game.

So, I guess that's my soap box speech for today. One more thing, though: I just can't believe the undertones of the things he was telling me, which were to conform to society, or rather to conform to what he thinks is normality. (What is normality anyway and what is abnormality? It all depends on a person's individual perspective and he shouldn't be pushing his on me. That's not what he's being paid for.) He told me that I should have a routine every day. The same routine every day. I think that is completely ridiculous. I can feel that old rebelliousness rising in me just thinking about it. I didn't realize it while I was sitting in his office. I mean, I thought what he was saying was confusing, but the more I got a chance to think about it, the more it pissed me off. Right now, I feel like screaming at him: "I'm not like everyone else! I have never been and never will be! That's what makes me special! How dare you suggest that I suppress who I really am in favor of becoming one of the mindless sheep?!"

Needless to say, I'm quite frustrated with him. It will be three weeks before I see him again, but you can bet that these things will not have left my mind and he will get a piece of it the next time I see him.


From Stress Over School To Stress Over Weight Loss: I Can't Ever Give Myself A Break.

I feel:: frustrated, alone, depressed
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Over The Rhine~Jesus In New Orleans

My goal is one pound a week. I know it's a very small goal, but I'm at "the very small goal" stage right now. Anyway, I made these weight loss tickers that I can update every time I lose or gain weight.

I'm still 5 pounds over what I started when I first made these ticker things. I don't have much of an appetite lately. Just want to sleep. When I'm awake, I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts. I cry a lot. Been keeping myself pretty doped up on Klonopin. I haven't cut myself again, though. I wanted to, but at the time I was driving and by the time I got home, I was too worn out from crying to do anything except fall into bed.

This one tracks how much weight I've lost.

This one tracks my actual weight.

I tend to be rather obsessive about weighing and measuring myself. I will try to confine it to once weekly, but I can't make any promises. Friday, I weighed myself and I was 205. Today, 4 days later, I'm 200. I had lost down to 195, but depression, anxiety and a shitload of ice cream made sure that I not only couldn't maintain that weight, but also that I gained weight. I hate being fat like this. I don't feel like this body is mine and I hate the way it feels.

I feel so alone. I feel broken. I hate feeling like this. I have to go to therapy in like an hour. I don't know if I'll be able to drag myself there. I guess I will feel better once I get out of the house.

The fridge is nearly empty and I really don't give a shit. My dad wants me to go grocery shopping today. I feel like asking him,"What the fuck for?"


The Church Ladies Take A Lesson in Flashdance Attire

I feel:: anxious
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Tori Amos~The Beekeeper

Man, I am either a dedicated masochist or I'm growing cahones as big as bowling balls. Let me back up a bit. Yesterday, I went to church for the first time since Easter. Easter was the day I laid it all out on the table for Marshall and I felt like he kicked me in the face. I didn't go the Sunday after Easter because I was just too depressed and I didn't go the Sunday after that because I was too embarrassed to be seen with these huge cuts/burns on my arm and it was too hot to wear sleeves. Why I can post pictures of my self-harm on the internet for the world to see, but am too embarrassed to let those I say that are closest to me know about it is beyond me.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon when church was over, I was the first one out the door. I had a headache that was making my vision blurry and Marshall was sitting right in front of me all during service and I was literally aching just to hold his hand. (I woke up with that headache, but for some reason, I had it in my head that I was going to go to church. I somehow convinced myself that I didn't feel as badly as I did. Reality has a funny way of smacking you in the face and when I got to church and sat down in the pew, my head felt like it was in a vice grip and to this moment the only thing I remember about the sermon is something that Joe said about how Moose meat is so vascular even after all the blood is drained out and how it's all chewy. I remember he used it as some sort of allegory to a scripture verse in 1 Peter. Just so you know, things like that regularly come from the pulpit at my church. It's not that kind of church. One of the reasons I go there.) So, instead of sticking around to chit-chat (I didn't particularly feel like Chatty Cathy.), I bolted to my car. Here's my Life Clue #3 for those who are interested: Never try to drive with a migraine that blurs your vision while simultaneously crying your eyes out and having a panic attack. It's a bit difficult. Not to mention the fact that it makes the migraine worse. (Before I went to church, I stopped at the little coffee shop where I go every Sunday to get coffee before I go to church. I figured if I drank some strong coffee and took about 4 Ibuprofen, my headache would become at least manageable. To my disappointment, some ladies from that church who had evidently gone to early service were standing in a long line all dressed in their best Sunday floral dresses waiting for coffee. I stood there for a few minutes with my faded and ripped raver jeans on, bright red Converse, a bright pink Flashdance-esque shirt that fell off my shoulder to expose my very blue bra strap and dark, dark Doris Day-esque pink sunglasses that were pointed up at the outside edges with rhinestones on the tops of them, with my hair in pigtails while they all stared back at me. I would have screwed up my face and gave them something to stare at, but my head was hurting to badly to move my face muscles. Besides, how threatening can you look in pigtails? Disgusted and not wanting to wait forever for coffee, I left with a sigh. I'm quite sure the church ladies were relieved.)

So, after church, I went home and literally fell into bed, but not before taking one of Dad's wonderful headache pills and a couple of Klonopin. I fell asleep directly and woke up a few hours later with an urge to do something, but I didn't know what that something was that I wanted to do. I just knew that I didn't want to lay there in my bed and stare at the ceiling fan, even though it does remind me of Marshall (I know that's weird, but it's another story.). I laid there for about half an hour debating on whether or not to get up or to just go back to sleep. I looked at my bedside clock; it said 3:30. I decided at that moment that I didn't care where I went, I just wanted to be out of the house. I was thinking I might drive out Hwy 10 where there is this little hidden park-like place right on the shores of Lake Maumelle. It's so peaceful there. Or else, I'd go out to Pinnacle Mountain and walk the trail. Either way, I decided to take my camera in case something interesting passed my way. After I got dressed, I picked up my cell phone and started to walk to the kitchen to put it in my purse, get my keys and leave. I stopped before I got out of my room and just stared at my phone and that little voice inside me said,"Call Marshall." I said no and chided myself on what a ridiculous idea that was, but then again the little voice said, "Call Marshall." This little argument went on for at least 5 or 10 minutes while I just stood there and stared at Marshall's number on the display of my phone. Finally, I said to myself, "Fine, I'll call him, but I'll do it when I get in the car and am on my way to where ever I'm going and I'll just ask him if he wants to go with me." I called him up; he was watching football, which is pretty usual for Marshall on Sunday afternoon from what I'm beginning to find out. I tried to act all peppy and cute. That lasted for all of about 2 minutes. I said, "Hey, Marshall, do you want to go somewhere with me?" He sounded sort of dubious and curious at the same time and said hesitantly, "Where?" So, I told him what my two ideas were. Well, after some conversation, I managed to get out of him that he didn't want to leave his house (that was sort of like pulling teeth with no anaesthetic).

So, I started talking to him about our last phone conversation, in which he said, among other things, that we had a good friendship. I said, "You know, Marshall, we've known each other for a long time (We've known each other for 15 years.), but we really don't have a friendship at all. We don't even know each other. I don't know what your favorite color is or if you drink coffee in the morning or anything like that. I know those kinds of things about my other friends. I just find it funny that you say we have a good friendship when we barely know each other." After I said all of that, he was silent for a minute and then said, "I really don't have a favorite color and it has to be really early in the morning for me to drink coffee." So, since he had made it clear to me that he didn't want to leave his house and I definitely didn't want to go back home and didn't really want to go anywhere alone, I said, "So, can I come over and hang out with you?"

That's how I spent my Sunday afternoon, sitting in Marshall's living room watching European football on his big screen tv and talking. Surprisingly, he was doing most of the talking. He was asking me all sorts of questions about myself. I was very pleasantly surprised. We actually hung out and it was comfortable and we actually talked. Marshall has never talked that much to me or laughed that much in my presence before. At about 6:00pm, I left. Marshall was headed to his parent's house to eat dinner and I had to study for a make up test in my Sensation and Perception class that I took this morning. All in all, it was a good afternoon and I got a hug. That was a bonus. (The only problem with getting that close to Marshall is that when I come away, I want not to be away. I want to stay close to him.)



I feel:: betrayed, homicidal, suicidal, unloved, sick, extremely angry, depressed, anxious, extremely determined to get the fuck away from my dad
There's no music. My head hurts too bad for music.

My dad came home in a drunken rage last night cursing at me and assaulting me physically because he said that the cat litter box was not clean enough. I don't know who I want to cut more: me or him. I had a panic attack that lasted from 10pm last night to most of all day today. I couldn't even go to class today because my eyes were swollen nearly shut from crying and I've had a migraine ever since. And he's acting like everything is normal. That's scary because that says to me that he thinks he has a right to do those things to me. He doesn't. The only thing he said to me last night after it happened was,"There's dumplings in the kitchen if you want them," and, "When are you going to go grocery shopping?" He asked that last question because he knows that my food stamp money renews on the first of every month. I'm not buying him nada. Fucking pieso de mierda.

He used to beat me a lot when I was a kid, but I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a grown woman and I'm not going to put up with that shit. He's sitting in his bedroom now and I have a clear view of him. I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to bitch slap the shit out of him.

I'm not waiting on my disability. Fuck that $542/month. I'm getting a job tomorrow. I don't care what it is. I'm moving out and he can pick his own crippled ass up off the floor the next time he's too drunk and trips over his own damn feet. I want no more ties with him. I'm not even going to tell him I'm moving or where I'm moving. One night when he's out drinking, I'll have some movers come over here and move all of my stuff out. I'm not saying "bye", "kiss my ass", or anything. Fuck him

EDIT: It's now 2am and I can't sleep because I have this growing ball of hatred in my stomach and I can actually feel it. It's sitting there like some sort of stony parasite. I still have the headache, by the way, and I've taken 3 or 4 prescription headache pills today and two 0.5 mg tablets of Klonopin about every 6 hours or so and I'm still mad as fuck and my eye is twitching non-stop. I have so much tension in my neck that I can barely move my head from side-to-side. I have the most awful thoughts running through my head right now.


A Woman Has A Right To Her Own Body, But That Doesn't Mean Every Abortion Doesn't Break My Heart.

I feel:: nauseated
What song is on a loop in my head right now:: Over The Rhine~Show Me

Chemical Abortion
Chemical Abortion

Ok, rip my heart out of my chest while it's still beating. Squeeze it tight in your fist until every drop of blood is gone and it's become a deathly shade of decomposing white and then put it under your five inch Manolo heel and stomp on it until it looks totally unrecognizable. (I just found this on Post Secret and it affected me so much that I had to stop what I was doing and hold my hands over my mouth and breathe through my nose so that I wouldn't hyperventilate.)