08 December 2009
The past few weeks have just been insane. You know that ride called "Hellevator" that lifts you up & when you get to the top you just fall? That's kind of how I have been feeling for a while, only recently I've been taking rides more frequently on that Hellevator.
I would probably be fine if I didn't have to live with my dad due to financial reasons. Since that's not the case, I never know how my day will turn out. Last month we discovered my car needed a new water pump. This was only discovered after we paid to get my antifreeze flushed. The next day, the car was dripping antifreeze again & the mechanic said I had a bad water pump. Yay. The cost to buy one & put it on would be around $180. If dad had an air socket or something, he could have done it himself, which means 'I' could have done it myself & saved $140, since the water pump was only $40. Oh, did I mention that my dad insist this be done at that very instant? There was no talking him out of this one. He wanted to get it done & get it done now. Never mind the fact that I didn't have the money to pay for it for two weeks. GET IT DONE! Was what I heard loud & clear. How can I even argue w/that without being seen as the ever loving drama queen. or a hoarder of monies?
I gave in & took it one Friday to the mechanic to have it fixed. It runs great now, but I had an embarrassing ordeal when my check to the auto shop bounced, and again when I went to pay for the check on the first. But hey, the car was fixed, right?
A few days after that, dad turned on the crazy about him always being broke. Um hullo? I've told him time & again, to not buy shit for me, but he does. Like the new 32" tv he got for me to put in my bedroom, or the money he spent buying my water pump that could have waited two weeks until the first.
So here he goes, stomping up & down the stairs, stomping down the hall & slamming the door. That is his usual "I'm so fucking pissed right now" routine. Sometimes he stops at my door & looks at me. I guess waiting to see if I have anything to say, or sometimes for him to tell me how much I fail at life. You know, because I didn't know that already from the countless other times he's told me.
Well he wants money & I have a bunch of jewelry I don't wear so I go pawn it to get some cash. Only when I get home, he doesn't want my money. Alrighty. Well I'll keep it then, because he'll probably ask for it later (he did). I got him a pack of cigarettes & he didn't want those either, yet. A few days went by & he took them. He also started calming down & we were able to have Thanksgiving dinner in a peaceful kind of setting. I mean, at least no one was throwing knives at one another, even though that thought may have crossed minds.
Last week I have no idea what I did, but he was so pissed at me! Oooh wee T-Shayne! He was SO pissed, I had to get out of the house to give him time to chillax. I was okay, just a bit teary when he hurted my feelings. He's good about knowing how to make me feel like shit, especially when I've done nothing wrong. That makes me sit & think about what the fuck I might have done to have him so mad at me. The answer: Not a God damn thing!
I woke up the morning after his crazy spell & he told me to clean the upstairs part of the house. Yay. Cleaning. I'd rather have a root canal than clean, but I did it nonetheless. I mean, I cleaned that bitch so hard you could snort coke off the floors/walls/tables, etc.
While I was cleaning, I popped on my iPod to listen to some "pick me up" kind of songs to keep me moving. That's when he came upstairs & said something to me that I didn't hear re: iPod in ears. I asked him what he said, "Oh you heard me."
No actually I didn't. "I said, Life's a bitch iddinit?" I said yeah, and tried to go back to cleaning. He then came back with, "You better watch who you're punishing." I guess I should have bit my tongue, but I didn't & said the only person I was punishing was myself. He got kind of fiery hot with that comment. So I stopped cleaning, showered & got the fuck out of the house for a while.
He calmed down the next day. I had an appointment w/my psychiatrist & she changed my diagnosis from depression to Bipolar type 2. She wrote me a new prescription & told me to appeal my compensation decision since my diagnosis had changed.
I guess knowing that I'm bipolar helps me deal with things better & not worry about why I'm so fucked up & why I keep doing random shitty things or saying random shit that hurts people's feelings.
Remember when I said I cleaned the house? Yeah well, kneeling & crouching wore the ever loving piss out of my back. I was in so much pain. I got an appt with my dr. & she just gave me some muscle relaxers & some Voltaren. That shit didn't fucking work at all! If I were shot, it'd be like she put a fucking Mickey Mouse band-Aide on the wound & sent me on my merry fucking way.
So Sunday, I was in so much pain, I couldn't stand or sit, just lay. Every time I moved I thought someone was grabbing hold of my lower back muscle & twisting it. Since I don't have insurance, I drove to the VA ER. Oh. My. Lawlz. That place is so fucking bad I think the providers of patient care got their degree at the University of Phoenix online. I was there for 4 hours & all they gave me was a shot in my ass of toradol & some fucking ibuprofen. What kind of bullshit IS this? Only yesterday did I think I should have said, "I NEED SOMETHING FOR THE PAIN. If you don't give it to me, I'll find someone who WILL." Not really, because I don't know of anyone who sells pills, so that would have been a lie.
Two days later & my back feels a little better. If I sit or lay a certain way, it hurts like hellfire & damnation. I'm only supposed to take 1 muscle relaxer 3x/day, but I take two 3x/day instead because those tiny fuckers aren't doing a very good job of relaxing my muscles.
Funny story, while I was in the ER, I would make myself cry to try & get sympathy so they'd give me some good drugs, but NO. No one there mother fucking cared! I worked really hard producing those tears multiple times dammit! But I walked away with nothing but some fucking ibuprofen, which I had at home. So that trip was a big ol waste of time for everyone. I'll know that next time I have an emergency. I'll ask myself "Is this REALLY emergent?" Or maybe I'll just say screw it & go to the local butcher um, hospital instead.