It's a Dull, Dull Life

  Today I have a rare day off without being in agonizing pain.
  So...I can do stuff. Well some stuff. There's still some limits, damn them. I really wanted to try and do some barre warmups but my knees are in no shape for that. I can't express how much this hurts. Both literally and figuratively.
   I've decided then to do some coloring. I'm very much into coloring. Always have been, always will be. I think I'll start posting photos of them here when I finish some. I'm also going to clean up  some of my room. This is something that I have not been able to do for months and months and it has been eating away at me. I love cleaning. I loving getting rid of things. That's what happens when you spend 21 years living with a serious hoarder.
  I'm also writing. On here obviously but I'm beginning to feel the stirrings of a story in me. I actually came on here about ten minutes ago, decided I didn't feel like writing and then went onto my library's website and saw how many books and movies I have coming in and for some reason that inspired me  to get on here and write. I've found some series I've really been able  to enjoy lately which is something I've had trouble finding for awhile so I guess I'm just excited. So I ended up here to write about my plans for my day off. It's a beautiful day out, overcast, my favorite. I'd like to get out for a walk but I'm going to try really hard not to beat myself up if I don't.
  Not sure what else to say. Thanks to whoever  reads  this. It does mean quite a lot to me which probably makes me pathetic but I like myself a decent amount so I don't care. Quinn is munching hay next to me and throwing her toys around when they get in her way. And I've got books to read (and apparently write) so I'm gonnna take off now.
  Ta-ta.
  Erin

Pain, Pain, Go Away

  Chronic pain and fibromyalgia are not fun things. Living off of pills is not a fun thing. Not being able to exercise on a regular basis or do the things I love is not a fun thing. Pain is not a fun thing.
  It is difficult trying to explain this to people which is why I generally don't bother. I read once in a book about one of my pelvic conditions that they said it was best to go into a new doctor's office assuming that the worst pain they have experienced is getting there wisdom teeth out or giving birth. Both of these are things that last for a period of time and then go away (though of course, child birth can have lasting issues). When I do try to explain to someone what I am feeling I say it is like that head contraption in the first Saw movie. Pressure on my skull feeling like it will explode and being entirely unable to escape it because I don't have a boyfriend whose innards I can dig through to get a key to unlock myself. Oh, how I envy those folk.
  But that really only covers migraines which I get almost everyday and are also not fun.
  The last few days have sucked balls. It's been over eighty degrees which, for someone who is constantly inflamed and is prone to heatstroke, is way to fucking hot. I've had to work every single day which has made it better in that I get to be in air conditioning for 5 hours but worse because I have to travel in the heat. It's 11:17 in the morning and I'm already sweating.
  Too hot.
  I guess this is just a self pity post which is fine by me because I am waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay to hard on myself and don't acknowledge my pain enough because, like I said, I don't know how o explain it or even where to start. I'm just in a lot of never ending pain that only my doctors can understand and it really fucking sucks. Sometimes I feel like I'd rather die than take another goddamn pill just to get through a day, something that will soon come true because I am losing my insurance and can't work enough to get it.
  Everything just fucking sucks right now.
  Like this badly written post.
  Fuck.
  Gotta go take a pill so I can go to work.
  Ta-ta.
  Erin

Here and Back Again Again

  I keep coming back and saying that I will write more because I've got so many stories to tell and then promptly disappear. I hate that so much because I want to write, especially more frequently on my blog.
  I've talked a lot about my health (I think) because that's the main thing that  keeps me from moving, being able to cook, enjoy my work, much less write. The thing is, I've kind of been in denial. Well not denial but...let me try to explain.
  I push myself. Way, way,way too hard. Why? Because I like to. I love to try and learn new things and fully put myself into the things that I love. Unfortunately this applies to  my health too. I've been fighting it mostly because I've been, I am wrapped up in it. I've been able to understand and accept that my health is extremely poor which causes me to push myself even more. Work harder, move faster, etc. Now it's gotten to the point where, and not necessarily because of this, I have to take a myriad of pills just to get through a four hour shift at work. I can't push through it or tell it to fuck off anymore. My health problems have risen up, gotten right in my face and said, "Hey, it's me. I'm not going away."
  And that's what I have been unable to accept. I like to think that one day my health problems will at least get better if not go away completely but right now, they're here to stay.
  I don't write much because my pain is my life and most days are the same and who wants to hear about that? This is weird for me to say because I don't give a shit what random strangers think of me so why is it any different on my blog? I think it's because all my life I've been the joker. I can laugh and smile and "look fine" when my body's about to collapse and I want to die because of the amount of pain I'm feeling. I can do this because I have always done it. All my life I have had to hide what I'm really feeling from people but so long as I crack a joke, especially about myself, everything is fine. And so that's what my blog has felt like: entertainment for other people. Which, of course, it is but I feel like if I don't have something funny to say, why write at all?
  The thing is, I'm not fine. And it has only recently occurred to me (yesterday) that if I can, I need to write, especially when I'm feeling like hell because that's when it is most important to write. Sometimes my life is funny and I can joke but most of the time it is fucking horrifying
  It's actually a bit embarrassing to me that it took me so long to figure this out and that it's okay, haha (Okay. There's your funny for this post.)
  So right now I actually feel pretty decent. I had a good day pain wise both yesterday and--so far-- today. Just in case though I am writing this in the morning before I have to go to work and before it gets to hot to do anything but melt.
  And I have lots of stories, LOTS of them to share. Some of them will be funny, like when I rescued a bird from the sun room when I had the stomach flu and almost shit myself, and some of them will not be funny at all, they will just be real. My life of pain.
  That's all for now, I think.
  Ta-ta,
  Erin

Here and Back Again

  Hi everyone.
  I recently got back from work and  have a throbbing migraine. My medication's just starting to kick in and I've got no idea what I'm doing. I just know that I miss writing, especially on here. I think I'll just describe the things around me.
  Outside, the wind is sifting through the tree branches, making a noise I love. Rain was assaulting the roof at work earlier but that's stopped for the time being. Both are  sounds that I love to hear when I am cozy, inside, and wrapped up in a blanket.
  Which I am.
  My rabbit, Quinn, is next to me in her cage. She was just lying down in one of those positions of comfort that is unattainable by humans but now she's gotten up, had a drink of water and is currently deciding if an more of her needs to be groomed. After a big yawn she has decided yes. The grooming session has commenced.
  I am covered in a heating pad with one of my fluffy blankets over me, topped by my ballerina quilt and this laptop. Bunny is beside me watching me write. The winds picking up and Squidley's giving me the eye.
  I'm surrounded by the things that I love (such as Squidley) and wish I wasn't in so much pain so I could enjoy it more. I've even got on one of my soft Lilo and Stitch t-shirts and that makes me happy.
  My room is an incredible dump, needs one hell of a cleaning but I'm okay with that because not only does it consist of things which I love, it means I'll get to sort through it all and compartmentalize and organize which is yet another thing I love.
  I've got a number of projects in the works and now that work-work is slowing down I'll have more time to to work on them. (Work.) I know I've been saying that forever but I really need to create because sometimes I feel like I'm starting to lose myself and that's not good.
  For now though I will go make dinner and watch something while my migraine--hopefully--abates.
  Talk to you soon,
  Erin

A Bug in the Toilet

  Yesterday, after I finished taking a shit, I turned around to flush and there was a bug in the toilet.
  See, my writing has become so flaccid and pathetic that I have to start a blog post with that intro.
  It is true though.
  When I turned around there was a bug (of a type I have previously waged a war on and by "war" I mean catch them and throw them out the window) upside down in the water, flailing his little legs for dear life. I couldn't blame the poor bastard. He had just been attacked by human defecation and a heap of blood clots and menstrual blood. I looked at him for a few seconds pondering how I could get him out but considering that it felt like a crocodile was gnawing away at my pelvis and I really didn't want to reach into the mess I had just made, I closed the lid and flushed. I felt really bad and did actually flinch when I flushed the toilet but given the situation, I believe it was the kindest course of action.
  That would have been the highlight of my day but I decided to down some muscle relaxers and pain relievers and hopped on a bus to the mall which was my original  plan for the day.
  I left early because I like to go to the mall and sit in the eating area where the skylights let in so much natural light that I could sit there and read forever. But I can't  because even on a weekday the mall noise starts to act up to an unbearable degree about two hours after opening. But it was nice to have that time, period cramps and all.
  Today I am going to the ballet which warms my heart because even if I still have trouble dancing myself I will be as close to both the place and the thing that I love most in the world (bunny friend aside. Yup, new bunny, more on that later).
  I'll sign off here because I should really eat breakfast.
  Ta-ta.
  -Erin

Plan Pony at the mall. Not sure where I was when this was taken.

  I keep starting posts trying to properly express what I'm feeling but it's not going so well. But third time's the charm, right?
  The basic message is this: I don't want to express my opinion anymore because it's the unpopular one and I am sick of having the same arguments with people over and over and over again.
  Bam.
  I watched a Korean movie a few days ago and needless to say, the English subtitles could use some work. At the end something was said that went sort of like this (and bear with me because my broken memory is trying to remember this from poorly translated subtitles): You can't keep fighting. All we can do is continue being what we are.
  What it meant was that you shouldn't exhaust yourself fighting when things have gone so horribly wrong and are out of your control. To continue doing what you're doing and hope that that will make a difference. Basically, it's another way of putting that Gandhi quote "Be the change you want to see in the world." but I liked how the movie put it better. Also, that quote is so over used and not-followed that I don't even want to say it.
  So that's where I am at right now. I don't want to talk about my opinion. It will inevitably sneak it's way into my writings because I'm not going to stop being me. I like who I am even if no one else does. People would here say they like me! But if they knew what I really thought, they probably wouldn't.
  So while I had some horribly translated English subtitles help me out, I still don't feel like I'm expressing what I'm feeling. Maybe writing isn't the right outlet for it.
  Whatever. I guess this is the post with no point.