Recently in Mental Anguish Category

It's been a while since I've posted as usual. I think that not much happens in my life which is why I can't seem to get it up to write an entry every day. But I guess that's my own fault as I don't put myself out there in the world like I should.

Anyway, went to see Tool at The Nokia Theater on Monday. It was an awesome fucking show; much better than the one I saw at The Staples Center back in September of 2006 which was the first time I had ever seen Tool. My sister bought tickets for my birthday that year and since Tool is one of my favorite bands, I was stoked.

We had better seats this time and Nokia is a smaller theater which houses about 8,000 people so it was way civilized, plus I had money this time (as I have a much better job) which always seems to make things more enjoyable even if you don't spend much of it.

I do have to say that Tool is just an incredible band. They're as close to purity in music as you can get. There's no pretence of ulterior motives to what they do. They just want to make music that is meaningful without being pussy about it and that deserves respect.

They've been around forever so I can't really add them to music section, but I may still upload some of my favorite Tool songs as people who haven't heard of them (which is insane because they're famous) can check them out if they're so inclined.

As far as the lackluster droll of my life goes, I'm getting really irritated with people's expectations of how I'm supposed to handle my diagnosis of diabetes.

In fact, I'm sick of writing about it and more sick of talking about it, but my family seems to think that I'm blowing the whole thing off (which I am not) and being an incompliant patient and that shit is so untrue. I take my fucking medication and I am very aware of my medical condition; I can't fucking avoid it, but I'm not going to let it define me as a person. I'm not going to fucking walk around with a stamp on my forehead saying type 2 diabetes and I'm not going to walk up to every person I meet on the street and say, "Hi, my name is Tiffany and I have type 2 diabetes." People don't need to know my business unless I tell them that shit and I'm not going to walk around with some badge of shame because of it. For a year I was sick without knowing it and managed to go to work and live my life. Yes, I've made changes and need to make more, but I'm not a fucking cripple and I'm not going to let people talk to me like I'm a child and treat me as if I can't wipe my own ass.

Of course, my mother in particular, thinks I'm being completely irrational about the whole thing and I should just shut my mouth and be pathetic, but that's always been our problem. She doesn't know how to get the fuck out of my business and let my handle my shit on my own. Why is it so hard for her to understand that she needs to BACK OFF?

*Holds hand up dismissively* don't try and answer that. I know you don't know I'm just throwing the rhetorical question out there... It's just very frustrating.

Hmm, I've sat here and written a venomous rant on my blog but it hasn't changed my situation. I still have the same problem I had ten minutes ago, but I have to remind myself that that really isn't the point of this blog anyway.

Just typing out my issues isn't going to solve my problems. However, it DOES help me become aware of them and at least plant the seed of solution in my head.

It looks like the diabetes train has left the station and apparently I'm on it. Yup, it's official kids! I have type 2 diabetes. Fun Stuff!

I got the news straight from my primary physician on Tuesday and it was a weird situation because after he told me he got this earnest look on his face and asked me, "So, how do you feel about this?"

He wanted to know how I was taking it emotionally and I really didn't have an answer for him. Well... I did have an answer, but not a verbal one. Like a dumb ass I actually started to cry. Not full on sobbing, but enough for him to hand me a tissue, put his arm around me and assure me that it was going to be okay and that he wasn't just concerned about my physical health, he was there for me emotionally as well. Seems kinda cheesy, I know, but I appreciated his sincerity. Most doctors don't give a shit about their patient's mental well being, so I guess I'm lucky that way... especially since I'm with an HMO.

So yeah, my blood sugar is through the roof, like in the 3 and 4 hundreds (which is really, really bad). I'm now stuck taking Metformin (which makes feel like shit) twice a day and also checking my own blood sugar with a Glucose Meter twice a day.

Oh yes, you heard right. I have to fucking prick myself twice a day, like, I actually have to inflict bodily harm TO MYSELF and let me tell you, it isn't fun. I kept getting errors in the reading yesterday so I had to stab myself like 4 times. Needless to say, I'm not a happy camper.

I'm feeling really low right now. I don't see the point in taking the pills or doing those stupid blood test when I know I'm never going to get better. Now, this thinking may not be true, but in the state of mind I'm in right now, I don't see it any other way.

I suppose I should go back to my doctor and tell him I'm not handling the situation well, but as I stated before in the previous post; I'm in the mood for some deep dark loathing and it couldn't have come at a more opportune time.

Fall is coming and I'm thankful for it. The summer hasn't been very good to me, but then again, maybe I haven't been very good to it.

In any case, this has been a pretty difficult year. Illnesses that I thought I could hold off on for a little longer are starting to catch up with me and I feel myself thinking increasingly dark thoughts which are never a good sign. It's upsetting to me that I could be 27 and already on my way to full blown diabetes, but you know, that's just the sort of shit that happens to me.

It always seems that the worst that could happen does and I'm just stuck sitting there watching things fall down around me and waiting for the other shoe to drop... and it will drop. It never fails to do that.

I could chalk this up to going through a funk and I suppose I could be proactive and do something about it now, but it's been a while since I've been on anti-depressants and it costs too much to see a therapist or psychiatrist with my insurance so I guess I'll have to let it ride.

Besides, it's been sometime since I've lain with misery and I must admit that I miss its dark company.

Hi *waves*. So my attempts at being an adult have failed miserably. I don’t know if I told you all this, but I am (was) in the process of letting go of my childish ways and becoming an “adult”. Being the notorious late bloomer that I am, I figured it was about time I got off my lazy ass, stop hiding in my child-like shell and try to be a social, normal “woman”. Needless to say… it isn’t going well.

I figure (this is just a guestimate) that I have the maturation level of a 14 year old. Yeah, I think I pretty much stopped progressing on an intellectual level around there. For it not, why do I do and say stupid things and always make the wrong decision much like a puberty ridden teenaged girl. Do you know how frustrating it is to be 25, technically feel 25 but still do idiot things that make it obvious that you really aren’t 25? I want so much to be a responsible adult, but I am not responsible which is funny because I was much more mature when I was younger.

It’s like I’m devolving or something. The more I put myself out there in the world, the more immature and ridiculous I get. I don’t understand it. Or maybe I do understand it. I was in my own little world when I was a teenager. Only a select few even got there foot in the door as far as knowing what I was really thinking or feeling. I was very isolated. Maybe I wasn’t as mature as I thought I was. Maybe being out in the real world is showing just that. I had nothing to compare my maturity to, so how was I really supposed to know. Jeez… that is disturbing. All this time I found comfort in what I thought was the fact that I had been mature at one time. Here I am telling myself that I am devolving, when really I’m not. I was never evolved in the first place. I’ve always been a cave… umm… person. Wow… that sucks.

Needless to say, I am having a bad spell right now. I feel like a failure. My life isn’t in the place I think it should be and I’m depressed about it. It’s funny to look back and think about all the aspirations one has when one is a child. Children talk about being doctors, policemen or firemen. The sky is the limit, nothing is holding them back, and they can do anything. Then life starts. They get thrust into society and have to navigate complex social standards and give themselves over to that innate need to belong. So they start changing themselves. They bury and purge all the things that make them different even if they are the things that make them happy. They start listening to their friends and their parents who have very different ideas about what they think said person should be. It is amazing how you are born a person, complete with ideas and thoughts of your own that bring you supreme happiness, then die the complete opposite of what you once were—shattered and unhappy. I envy those who can withstand the pressure and stay true to their bliss. I wish I was one of those people, but I am consumed with a want to be normal and belong. I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore. I am destroyed.

It’s good that I am able to vent about these things like this. I didn’t have this luxury when I was a teenager so I kept everything bottled up inside. That is probably why I thought I was so mature. I was holding on to all these dark and twisted thoughts. I could float through the day with a mask of persona on fooling everyone. I took a sick pleasure in being able to do that and play the part of someone I was not. I think the only time the pressure really started to get to me is when I started fucking up in school. I think subconsciously, that was my way of letting a crack in the porcelain show. I was letting everyone know that eventually, all the shit they dumped on me would make me break.

It is so fucking true that hindsight is 20/20. I didn’t really understand why school was so hard for me. It had nothing to do with not wanting an education. It was the social pressure. When I entered High School we had a class of 6,000 freshmen, all trapped together in one school. If you didn’t break off into a clique you were eaten by the wolves. Well, I am not a clique person so of course I was left in the big scary woods by my lonesome. I consider myself fairly hardcore. I’m not a fucking wimp or anything, but wearing that mask of persona can only camouflage you for so long. Not that I stayed around long enough to find out what happens when the mask melts and you are exposed. No, I did what I do best… escape.

Hi *waves*. I haven’t written in a while, mostly because I’ve been dealing with shit. My dad has become a bit of a hand full. For a minute there I thought the stroke would knock some sense into him and make him take stock, but it hasn’t. He is still the same tragic, stunted man he was before he had the stroke; only it’s a little worse now. I think he’s lost some of his impulse control… not that he had that much to begin with. All I know is that I’m getting tried of being the mediator between my parents and I’m tried of my mother making everything about her.

I don’t think she understands why I’m reacting the way I am to this whole situation with my dad. I don’t know how she expects me to act. Yes, I have issues with my father. Yes, he isn’t going to win the “Father of the Year” award…ever, but I feel this innate need to take charge and take care of him. Maybe it’s because he really didn’t do that for me and I know how bad it sucks. I think my dad tried, but he had very many demons to battle which didn’t leave much time for his children. I don’t know where those demons came from or why they wanted to torture him so…however, I do know that he lost the war a long time go. This is why I’m kind of pissed at my mom right now. She still doesn’t want to accept the fact that my dad is what he is and he isn’t going to change. She can’t get it through her thick skull that my dad didn’t have a stroke just to spite her and throw her world out of whack—that the world does not and never has revolved around her. Everyone is not out to get her— she is not the end all be all—there are other people on the planet with needs and wants besides her and her massive ego.

I don’t think my dad acts the way that he does on purpose and I think that’s what makes it so sad. I think he knows that he does and says stupid things that hurt people, but it’s like you’re on the outside looking in on yourself being an ass and you don’t know how to stop it. It helps me have a better understanding of my father because I do the same thing. I guess I inherited it from him. But I also inherited my mother’s whip-lash tongue. It’s the selfishness that I inherited from the both of them that I don’t like. Well… I’m not anymore selfish than the next person, but I have my moments. I also work really hard not to be selfish because sometimes I look at my parents and I’m just disgusted with the depth of egotistical stupidity that oozes from their pores. I’m just dumbfounded sometimes. Like, I can’t believe that they can’t see how ridiculous they’re being. I mean, how one could not see that… it’s so freaking obvious! I don’t know—it’s hard to explain, but if you ever have the privilege of having dinner with my parents and watching them interact with each other, you’ll know what I mean. I think what nailed the coffin shut on their marriage was that they were so wrapped up in themselves; they didn’t have time for each other.

Anyway, I think I and they are better off not being married. People think it’s totally weird and unhealthy of me, but I was happy when my parents got divorced. It was finally an end to all the bullshit. Call me incredibly observant for an 8 year old, but I knew their marriage wasn’t going to work and breathed a sigh of relief when they realized it too. I’ve actually had people try to convince me that I’m lying to myself and I really want my parents to get back together—that all children of divorce want their parents to get back together. Umm… sorry, but no. The last thing in the world I want is for my parents to get remarried. Oh my god, I would die. The thought, the sheer thought makes me want to blow chucks.

I just want to be a caretaker. I want to be one of those people that other people can rely on. I really want to conquer any selfishness lurking at the core and be a real giver whom expects nothing in return. I want to take care of my dad without thinking about all the shitty things he’s done to me. I don’t want to dislike him. I already love him, but I want to like him too. Some people may not understand where I’m coming from with this. Considering the history my father and I have, you’d think I’d just deal with the anger and realize that it’s apart of my life. I suppose I’m asking too much to actually want to like my father as a person. But like I always say, you cannot reach perfection… but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Hi *waves*. You know, I’ve come to a realization tonight. I am very alone. I always knew I was, but being off the Zoloft is really showing that to me now. I was totally in a fog; wearing rose-colored glasses concerning my life. I had a false since of security as far as everything goes. I don’t have anyone. I am always the bad guy and I’m fucking sick of it. It’s like people hear my voice, and apparently it is so devastating to the system, so contrary, that they stop listening. Like nothing I say has any merit… ever. I can’t be expected to ask anyone for even the tiniest thing. God forbid I should put them out and ruin their master plan to do whatever it is they feel like doing. It’s like I should be thankful that I am even in their presence and anything that I want or need should be disregarded. It’s fucking annoying as hell and I am tired of people expecting me to blow it off. I’m always the one who has to bend over backwards. I’m always the one who has to compromise like I was born for it or some shit. I’m the one who does what everyone else wants them to do. Excuse the fuck out of me for actually thinking that one should think about another person from time to time and not just themselves. But I guess I am an exception to the rule. I have to decide whether I should go back on the medication and be in a fog. The truth sucks. The question is, do I want to be in the truth… in the moment, or do I want to be out of it?