Metallica Time

Jay2For a period of time, when he was about 15, my youngest son moved out of our home and in with friends. They lived in a drug infested, dilapidated apartment complex and we rarely spoke. Every week or so, I’d call and he’d actually answer. I’d say, “Metallica time?”, and he’d reply, “Okay”. That meant that it was okay for me to come pick him up for a visit. But, since we couldn’t speak to one another during that time without fighting, he’d get in the truck and we’d put on the Metallica Black album and crank it up. I’d take him to get a coke and we’d drive the loop that circled our town until the album was over. We’d sing…play air drums…just exist together. It was an indescribable blessing for me, as a mother of a drug addicted child, to have even one thing that we could relate to as one. This is our favorite song on the Black album, even now.

Adios, Mr. Wonderful!

Since I was so confused and agitated about my moral issues yesterday, I decided to spread it around a little. So, I called Mr. Wonderful and picked a fight with him. Of course, this was after he sent me pictures of his enormous…I shit you not…ENORMOUS penis. Frankly, I’m happy that I started that argument and handled it like a complete child, driving him way way awayyyyy. I don’t think I could bring myself to deal with a johnson the size of a fire hydrant. Holy shit!

It’s funny how quickly people will haul ass the minute you start shit with them. It’s just like the scene in Fight Club, where they were supposed to start fights with random strangers. Nobody wanted to fight them, no matter how hard they tried to pick a fight. It’s human nature. You’re either confrontational, or you’re not.  But you’d think that a verbal spar wouldn’t be so daunting to some people. Frankly, I love it. A good fight is like rain…it clears the air and lets you in on secrets that would never come out under less pressurized circumstances. It’s basically verbal recon.

Anyway…that’s the update. I haven’t slept all night because I’m hurting physically and am sort of in a pissy mood. So I tanked up on DayQuil and I feel pretty damn good. lol! It won’t last, but I’ll enjoy it for now. I got a lot done on the house and that’s always a good thing. For me. Miss Unorganized.

Queen Of Pain

abaddonthedestroyer

It’s been a quiet day that flowed perfectly into a quiet evening. I’m grateful for that. Exish is here and I normally don’t have peaceful days in his presence. I’ve had a severe pain day, and Exish was very kind to me. I truly appreciated that because I could not deal with the usual on top of this pain. I think I would have just fucking left.

My doc thinks my problem, aside from the nerve damage, is fibromyalgia. I told her that I wasn’t ready to deal with that particular diagnosis. And, I’m not. She’s a cool chick and said we’ll deal with it later, when I am ready. I love the relationship I have with my doc. We’re both sarcastic and bitchy and say what we think when we think it. No editing, whatsoever. lol! I’m in a chronic pain group on Facebook and so many there have doctors that are just straight up dicks. I guess I got lucky.

I am hurting so bad I want to scream right now. Per the norm, I am exhausted for no reason. My body…stiff and sore all over, arms feel as though lightning is shooting down them constantly, shoulders to fingertips. One thing that’s really turning into a brain fuck lately is that my hands and fingers don’t always do as they’re told, so to speak. Typing takes forever because I constantly make mistakes. But it goes far beyond typing. I don’t HAVE to type. I’m always dropping things. And my hands shake a lot. They never used to do that. And my pain level just presses on…higher and higher. It’s driving me crazy. I haven’t even shot my new pistol yet because it’s too heavy for me to hold straight. I’m a big woman, even without the weight. I am also a strong woman. So, to me, not being able to hold on to a pistol is a big thing.

I’ve gained so much weight because of all this. I’m very inactive. As I said before, when Exish goes out of town, I am going to focus on changing that…focus on me. I know that I can push through this if I really set my mind to it. If I can stay off of the things I shouldn’t eat and maybe just walk for a half and hour a day, I think I’ll lose weight. I’d also like to quit smoking and re-learn Mexican while he’s gone, but that might be a stretch.

This morning, I was thinking about how I used to be, before the incident that caused all of this. I was a totally different person. Active, social and very in control. I loved going out to my favorite bar and hanging out at my friends’ tattoo shops. I just liked to do my thing. But once the pain set in…that was it.

I don’t think I’ll ever be pain free. And I don’t care if I am. But I want my life back. I want ME back. And there has to be a way to do that. I’m sick of the pills and the routine of it all. I hate the mental numbness. I hate the whole fucking thing. And now, with the shaky hand bullshit, I wonder if there is ever going to be an end to what my fucking nerves will do to me. Why don’t they just heal themselves? I heard they can. Doc says mine are dead. Okay then…how can something dead fuck your life up like this?

This is really turning into a wack job rant, so I’m gonna stop now. All I know is that I’m ready for change in my life and I am going to have my way, or I don’t know what. I’d rather die than be this way.