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Messing with my own head

So I'm sitting here after my tap dance class, trying to write a one-person show (kind of a la Mike Daisey) about my experience with urticaria. It's going to be cool with pictures and screen captures and all sorts of multi-media stuff, really cutting edge.

And I'm looking back over the calendar of October 2012, trying to figure out what happened when, when I actually saw Richard, what was going on, when the bad shit started to happen. When my body crapped out on me.

And I'm looking at Jason's calendar, and what he was doing in October 2012, and seeing what an incredibly poor replacement I must be for the girlfriend he had then, because I know every time I see her initial on his calendar - it's at least once a week - it is a marker of what a failure I am as his partner, as someone who is so much less wanted that she was, even then, when he was willing to walk away from the relationship to be there for me when the blackness fell on my life and everything went to complete shit.

And I'm seeing the other things he was doing, and when the horrible intersection happened of People Who Really Fucked Me Over and Bullied Me Into Questioning Reality, and my heart feels like it's going faster and faster and I'm trying to type stuff and my arms and shoulders are starting to get all prickly and then I go, "Oh look it's the blood pressure machine my doctor had me take home because he's worried about my heart."

So then I do my blood pressure reading because I forgot to take it this morning and I'm supposed to do it for seven days in a row. And it's 165/95. Man, this shit fucks me up in real time. I bet six months ago I would have been swelling up like a balloon.

So I stopped writing and now I'm reading a Neil Gaiman book and drinking some red wine. I hate that this fucking shit makes me afraid of everything, afraid I'll get sick again, afraid to confront things that upset me because I don't want to have everything go really really wrong again.

I got a winter dragon egg today. I had my first tap dancing class. I'm not very good and I'll never dance in any show because I can't remember more than 8 moves in a row and the next 8 moves I'm taught overwrite the previous 8 moves so there's only a single series of 8 moves and I don't remember any of them from last night. But I didn't fall over. And I didn't get tired. And a year ago today, I couldn't even have stood up for an hour, much less danced for an hour, and ran for 20 minutes like I did over my lunch break today.

Baby steps, failure Cowgirl, baby steps. It's the halfway point in my life but sometimes this feels like this is the beginning all over again.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
darkmane
Jan. 7th, 2014 12:30 am (UTC)
Yup, baby steps. And the fact that you can dance for an hour and run for 20 minutes are note baby steps.

m_cobweb and I had a similar discussion about how "terrible" she is and how I would be better off without her. It was kind of 1 sided, actually it was totally one sided because I don't believe that. I tried to convince her that I like my life better with her in it and all the wonderful people (Like you) that she has brought into my life. I'm sure J. would argue many of the same points I did if you had a similar discussion.

It's hard to believe but us guys are kind of irrational when it comes to love. We fall in love and then it can be really hard for us to fall out of it. We're always convinced it will get better and many time we're right.

You're a good person, I'm sorry that stress and your body have teamed up to kick you in the teeth this past year.
webcowgirl
Jan. 23rd, 2014 08:29 pm (UTC)
Aw, poor m_cobweb, permanently unable to see how awesome she is.

Stress sucks, I know she knows how bad it is.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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