Because I have some things(s) to say.
29.1.16
Brief Comic Update
More people have been asking me lately about my comic and how it is
coming along so I wanted to post an update there rather than elsewhere.
It is here.
28.12.15
Sitzing and Sipping
Today I (Still) Hate: My broken piece of shit body.
Today I love: Bunny, who I can hug on the toilet when I'm scared to shit.
At 5:30 this morning I found myself up to my belly in a tub of warm water holding my exceptionally large skull & crossbones cup of black tea and balancing a book on my knees at the same time.
Shortly before this I was sitting on the toilet for the second or third time Waiting to Shit, a basic bodily function that has become a disgustingly cruel and frightening game. My arms were crossed over my stuffed rabbit, holding him close to my chest while I took deep breaths and tried to visualize pooping "smoothly and naturally" as I had been instructed. For once in my life I have found a situation in which visualization (sometimes) has an actual effect on whatever is going on. Unfortunately, as I discovered yesterday, when the poop hits the pain spot and the pain starts to scream no amount of picturing a shit sliding out of my ass painlessly is actually going to make the shit slide out of my ass painlessly. Hence, the stuffed animal.
About that time I realized I had left my morning cup of tea in my room where it was now either a pleasantly drinkable temperature or unappealingly lukewarm. I decided to cut all attempts at shitting short (I did manage some but still with bleeding) and raced to my room to fetch the tea while I waited for the warm water coming out of the bath tap to realize it is supposed to be warm water (which can take anywhere from one to infinite minutes). I returned with said cup of tea and placed it on the floor near where I would be sitting repeating to myself that I had better not knock that over, I had better not knock that over. I didn't--and was quite proud of myself--and this was about when I plunked my butt in the tub of too hot water (I can never get a consistent or appropriate temperature due to my stupidly cold limbs) and finally got to enjoy my morning cup of tea with a sinking heart while Bunny looked on with that happy look he always wears on his face on when I feel like killing myself.
As I sipped my tea and read my crappy book (any book so long as it is not my story) I tried very hard not to think about the rest of the day as my mornings have become the best part of them.
Today I love: Bunny, who I can hug on the toilet when I'm scared to shit.
At 5:30 this morning I found myself up to my belly in a tub of warm water holding my exceptionally large skull & crossbones cup of black tea and balancing a book on my knees at the same time.
Shortly before this I was sitting on the toilet for the second or third time Waiting to Shit, a basic bodily function that has become a disgustingly cruel and frightening game. My arms were crossed over my stuffed rabbit, holding him close to my chest while I took deep breaths and tried to visualize pooping "smoothly and naturally" as I had been instructed. For once in my life I have found a situation in which visualization (sometimes) has an actual effect on whatever is going on. Unfortunately, as I discovered yesterday, when the poop hits the pain spot and the pain starts to scream no amount of picturing a shit sliding out of my ass painlessly is actually going to make the shit slide out of my ass painlessly. Hence, the stuffed animal.
About that time I realized I had left my morning cup of tea in my room where it was now either a pleasantly drinkable temperature or unappealingly lukewarm. I decided to cut all attempts at shitting short (I did manage some but still with bleeding) and raced to my room to fetch the tea while I waited for the warm water coming out of the bath tap to realize it is supposed to be warm water (which can take anywhere from one to infinite minutes). I returned with said cup of tea and placed it on the floor near where I would be sitting repeating to myself that I had better not knock that over, I had better not knock that over. I didn't--and was quite proud of myself--and this was about when I plunked my butt in the tub of too hot water (I can never get a consistent or appropriate temperature due to my stupidly cold limbs) and finally got to enjoy my morning cup of tea with a sinking heart while Bunny looked on with that happy look he always wears on his face on when I feel like killing myself.
As I sipped my tea and read my crappy book (any book so long as it is not my story) I tried very hard not to think about the rest of the day as my mornings have become the best part of them.
1.12.15
Sitz Bath Adventure
I tried a sitz bath today, a sort of last ditch effort after getting some really bad news from my doctor's office today. For those of you who don't know, a sitz bath is basically a warm bath that you can put epsom salts or essential oils into but I am just opting for the warm water due to my wrecked pelvis.
Anyhoo, because I don't have a bathtub and since I'm really tiny my doctors told me I could use the basin I do my hand washing in instead. So, like the mindless dolt I am I took the tub and, out of habit, filled it up to where I do when I wash my clothes. When I was done with that I realized it was in the shower and I couldn't lift it out and so, with some help from the wall and my legs, I got it over the ledge and onto the towel I had set on the floor. As I went to lower myself into it my brain began screaming a warning at me.
"ERIN! ERIN! ERIN! ERIN!" it offered helpfully.
I ignored it and lowered myself in further. The water rose up to my belly.
"THERE IS FAR TOO MUCH WATER IN THIS TUB."
I let myself drop to the bottom of the tub and water gushed out over the edge.
It's okay, I told myself. I'm on a towel.
My brain sat quietly in the background.
But then it occurred to me that I still had to lean back. I did so and with every millimeter a far greater amount of water than that flowed out. This was about when 6th grade science class--quite literally--came flooding back to me; something involving a fish tank, some water , and a toy boat. After a short time of this I began to feel extremely stupid but I justified my actions by not realizing the amount of mass my barely-there ass has.
"Alright, Brain," I gave in, got out, re-lifted the basin and, with some help from my legs and the wall, I got it on the ledge and dumped some water out.
I repeated this process once more until I was not flooding the bathroom.
And that's it. No great climax I'm afraid (though I did remember to check the water level before I dumped it out so I won't overflow next time). I think there was going to be one but I've forgotten it as my sister's got me watching The Legend of Chima which is more mind numbing than any amount of side-lying (alone) could ever be. :)
Anyhoo, because I don't have a bathtub and since I'm really tiny my doctors told me I could use the basin I do my hand washing in instead. So, like the mindless dolt I am I took the tub and, out of habit, filled it up to where I do when I wash my clothes. When I was done with that I realized it was in the shower and I couldn't lift it out and so, with some help from the wall and my legs, I got it over the ledge and onto the towel I had set on the floor. As I went to lower myself into it my brain began screaming a warning at me.
"ERIN! ERIN! ERIN! ERIN!" it offered helpfully.
I ignored it and lowered myself in further. The water rose up to my belly.
"THERE IS FAR TOO MUCH WATER IN THIS TUB."
I let myself drop to the bottom of the tub and water gushed out over the edge.
It's okay, I told myself. I'm on a towel.
My brain sat quietly in the background.
But then it occurred to me that I still had to lean back. I did so and with every millimeter a far greater amount of water than that flowed out. This was about when 6th grade science class--quite literally--came flooding back to me; something involving a fish tank, some water , and a toy boat. After a short time of this I began to feel extremely stupid but I justified my actions by not realizing the amount of mass my barely-there ass has.
"Alright, Brain," I gave in, got out, re-lifted the basin and, with some help from my legs and the wall, I got it on the ledge and dumped some water out.
I repeated this process once more until I was not flooding the bathroom.
And that's it. No great climax I'm afraid (though I did remember to check the water level before I dumped it out so I won't overflow next time). I think there was going to be one but I've forgotten it as my sister's got me watching The Legend of Chima which is more mind numbing than any amount of side-lying (alone) could ever be. :)
4.11.15
Things that Can Only Be Said...
My sister walked into my room yesterday to find me buried underneath her laptop finishing up some comic work.
"Hey," I said to her, "Could you do me a huge favor and get me that USB? The one in the teacup,"
We both smiled as the weirdness of what I'd just said soaked in.
"Things that can only be said in my room."
She looked around for the USB but didn't spot it.
"The one with the horse in it," I added helpfully.
"It's in the teacup with the horse in it," she laughed. "Things that can only be said in your room."
"Hey," I said to her, "Could you do me a huge favor and get me that USB? The one in the teacup,"
We both smiled as the weirdness of what I'd just said soaked in.
"Things that can only be said in my room."
She looked around for the USB but didn't spot it.
"The one with the horse in it," I added helpfully.
"It's in the teacup with the horse in it," she laughed. "Things that can only be said in your room."
19.10.15
A Rude Awakening
Today I Hate: Panic attacks. Why? T_T
Today I Love: Being able to go for walks again, tea, Gatorade, and being able to work on my comic once more. Why? Panic attacks.
This morning I found myself scribbling away in my journal while on the toilet after a bout of ass-ripping diarrhea caused by one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while. I've been really stressed and have been having mild attacks lately and while something happened this morning that I knew would turn my stomach I was not prepared for said ass-ripping and my body trembling so much I couldn't move among other fun things. Managed to eat some of breakfast but it was an attack worthy of an anti-anxiety which I took. Lunch went down better and I am thanking god for gatorade.
Feeling better now but I think I speak for both myself and my hemorrhoids when I say fuck this shit.
Today I Love: Being able to go for walks again, tea, Gatorade, and being able to work on my comic once more. Why? Panic attacks.
This morning I found myself scribbling away in my journal while on the toilet after a bout of ass-ripping diarrhea caused by one of the worst panic attacks I've had in a while. I've been really stressed and have been having mild attacks lately and while something happened this morning that I knew would turn my stomach I was not prepared for said ass-ripping and my body trembling so much I couldn't move among other fun things. Managed to eat some of breakfast but it was an attack worthy of an anti-anxiety which I took. Lunch went down better and I am thanking god for gatorade.
Feeling better now but I think I speak for both myself and my hemorrhoids when I say fuck this shit.
9.10.15
Jumping Off of Bridges
Today I Hate: Most everything in my life.
Today I Love: The people I work with, who care about me (ironically).
People don't change. They have the ability to but when given the choice they most likely will not or will become even shittier than they were before. That has been my experience. I desperately want to find people who want to be better, who inspire me, but this is very difficult when everyone is busy jumping off bridges because their friends are doing it.
On a related note, I have a question that won't get out of my head:
In not changing you have shown me that not only did you not care about me but that nothing I said to you mattered at all. My caring about you didn't matter.
Does that mean we were never really friends?
Today I Love: The people I work with, who care about me (ironically).
People don't change. They have the ability to but when given the choice they most likely will not or will become even shittier than they were before. That has been my experience. I desperately want to find people who want to be better, who inspire me, but this is very difficult when everyone is busy jumping off bridges because their friends are doing it.
On a related note, I have a question that won't get out of my head:
In not changing you have shown me that not only did you not care about me but that nothing I said to you mattered at all. My caring about you didn't matter.
Does that mean we were never really friends?
21.9.15
Said Too Much
There are a lot of stupid things I come across when looking at Helpful Hints to Improve Your Writing but there is one that has been popping up everywhere lately and it's really getting to me. It is that you are not to use the word "said" as in:
"Blah, blah, blah," said so and so.
At first this made sense to me because I thought they meant what my teacher taught my class in the second grade which was to not always use the word "said" in order to encourage us to both be more creative in our writing and to learn more words (good teacher). But what they actually mean is that you should quite literally never, Ever, EVER say the word "said".
The more books I pick up (and read; some I just pick up and put back down again others I move to the side slightly) I've noticed that a lot of people are following this advice to the point where, as you get further into the book, you can actually feel them struggling to come up with more and more words for how to describe the noises that come out of someone's mouth and this, to me, is bad writing.
It is all very well to exclaim something or mumble something, to ululate, to complain, to blubber, to laugh, to emit, ejaculate, articulate, verbalize, relate, retaliate, bellow, tell, utter, shout, wail, howl, yell, moan and groan, and scream and screech and whoop and shriek and cry
But
Sometimes people are just Saying Things and I think that needs to be Said.
"Blah, blah, blah," said so and so.
At first this made sense to me because I thought they meant what my teacher taught my class in the second grade which was to not always use the word "said" in order to encourage us to both be more creative in our writing and to learn more words (good teacher). But what they actually mean is that you should quite literally never, Ever, EVER say the word "said".
The more books I pick up (and read; some I just pick up and put back down again others I move to the side slightly) I've noticed that a lot of people are following this advice to the point where, as you get further into the book, you can actually feel them struggling to come up with more and more words for how to describe the noises that come out of someone's mouth and this, to me, is bad writing.
It is all very well to exclaim something or mumble something, to ululate, to complain, to blubber, to laugh, to emit, ejaculate, articulate, verbalize, relate, retaliate, bellow, tell, utter, shout, wail, howl, yell, moan and groan, and scream and screech and whoop and shriek and cry
But
Sometimes people are just Saying Things and I think that needs to be Said.
20.9.15
12.9.15
On Men's Fashion and Dicks
I was sitting here in the library about twenty minutes ago in front of a
different computer screen wanting to write something but having nothing
I wanted to write a post about. Then this happened:
I was waltzing through the store (well, walking really but let's make it more interesting than it is) when I stopped to look at a magazine. Not being a fan of women's fashion--as it mainly consists of wearing nothing at all--it was a men's fashion magazine I picked up. I flipped through it to see if there was anything inspiring I could base an outfit or costume off of. There most certainly was and I decided to purchase it with some money a friend had given me recently. When I got to the register there was the same cashier that had been there earlier today when I went with my sister.
"Twice in one day!" the cashier exclaimed. "Not that I'm counting," she added with a wink.
"Yup," I said.
She rang up the magazine and then "euch"ed. "I think it's so arrogant of him to say that." She pointed to the cover of the magazine where there was a quote from the featured article saying something like, "I think I'm better looking than most of the public thinks I am."
I thought about this for a moment.
"Well," I said, "I suppose that depends on the public's opinion of how you look."
She laughed. "I suppose that's true." Then, "What's he in? Is he an actor?"
"I don't really know," I replied. "I just like men's fashion."
She let out a hearty laugh with an honest smile, this time because what I said had amused her because it was true and she knew it. This pleased me because it's always nice when someone believes that and doesn't think it's code for "I'm buying this magazine to wank-off to hot guys." And sometimes, I like to amuse people, also.
So here I am in the library, twice in one day. At least this time I have something to write about even if I am the only person who will smile upon reading it. That's okay with me.
Because I'm a far more interesting person than most of the public thinks I am. ;)
I was waltzing through the store (well, walking really but let's make it more interesting than it is) when I stopped to look at a magazine. Not being a fan of women's fashion--as it mainly consists of wearing nothing at all--it was a men's fashion magazine I picked up. I flipped through it to see if there was anything inspiring I could base an outfit or costume off of. There most certainly was and I decided to purchase it with some money a friend had given me recently. When I got to the register there was the same cashier that had been there earlier today when I went with my sister.
"Twice in one day!" the cashier exclaimed. "Not that I'm counting," she added with a wink.
"Yup," I said.
She rang up the magazine and then "euch"ed. "I think it's so arrogant of him to say that." She pointed to the cover of the magazine where there was a quote from the featured article saying something like, "I think I'm better looking than most of the public thinks I am."
I thought about this for a moment.
"Well," I said, "I suppose that depends on the public's opinion of how you look."
She laughed. "I suppose that's true." Then, "What's he in? Is he an actor?"
"I don't really know," I replied. "I just like men's fashion."
She let out a hearty laugh with an honest smile, this time because what I said had amused her because it was true and she knew it. This pleased me because it's always nice when someone believes that and doesn't think it's code for "I'm buying this magazine to wank-off to hot guys." And sometimes, I like to amuse people, also.
So here I am in the library, twice in one day. At least this time I have something to write about even if I am the only person who will smile upon reading it. That's okay with me.
Because I'm a far more interesting person than most of the public thinks I am. ;)
5.9.15
Update
Today I Hate: Feelings. Why? They suck.
Today I Love: My friend. Why? I'm at his house instead of mine.
So wow, I haven't been here on the internet world in a while. There are two main reasons for this (aside from hating people but that's always a reason) and I will discuss them briefly now.
I am writing this on my sister's lappy at my friend's house because I still do not have internet at my house and have only been able to use it at the library which I have not been able to get to because of pain. I still don't have internet because The Incompetent Boob has been trying to sabotage the lives of both myself and my sister, I guess because he doesn't have one himself. The Boob is now claiming that it's not working due to "memory problems" with the last password and if you know anything at all about computers--or even if you don't--this is laughable bullshit. Our computer friend is face palming and my sister and I are doing likewise.
Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain.
This is something I used to avoid writing about and talking about (before it became my life) because everyone is on a massive ego trip and if you voice anything at all about your pain or your abuse or your shitty life you'll be labelled a pussy and immediately be subjected to a verbal ego wank-off that usually consists of them giving you an extremely unhelpful example of how easily your problems are solved and then you'll get to hear about all of their problems, 90% of which they have brought on themselves and 89% of which involve their insane spouse which they absolutely have not brought on them self, that's what you're doing.
But I digress (sort of). I have been bedridden for most of the last month as my breasts decided to have another especially bad flareup. Not, thankfully, as bad as the one last December but bad enough to make my life Fucking Hell. Since I had to lie in bed all day my spine went out horribly (C1 forward this time) and instead of getting migraines it felt like my head was going to explode 24/7. My computer friend's dad was able to give me a ride to the chiropractor (thank god) as my usual ride's car is broken. I also had one of the worst periods I've had since starting the Vitex (a.k.a. chasteberry) which I am going to blame on the emotional train wreck of the preceding two and a half weeks.
My breast flareup has gone down a bit, thankfully, but they are still giving me hell if I do too much of anything at all (except lying down which ruins my spine). I got the news that any kind of imaging to--maybe--find out what the hell is going on is out of the question due to the pain which was a kick to the nuts. Might talk about that later but might not. My breast issues are something I don't mind filling someone in on but as this is the internet I have some reservations about talking openly about my breasts for reasons I feel really don't need to be named.
Right now, I'm just trying to get my stamina up enough to be able to get out for a walk daily and be able to do all my stretches at least once a day. Being able to eat at least two proper meals a day would be ideal but all the scrubbing and stirring, etc. exhausts me and aggravates my breasts too much to do regularly. Due to this I've lost weight which is bad because I don't have weight to lose.
That said, I have been writing some but nothing I wish to share with anyone. It's been bad. Things have been really fucking bad. I'm trying to work in some comic-making time as I've got the outline for a few written out and am absolutely, positively itching to get back to work on that. So those are my goals right now.
Yesterday I walked four miles to the grocery store to get oatmeal and fake hotdogs. I sat in the deli area where I read and picked at the zits on my forehead for an hour.
That was the most relaxed I have been in over a month.
-Erin
Today I Love: My friend. Why? I'm at his house instead of mine.
So wow, I haven't been here on the internet world in a while. There are two main reasons for this (aside from hating people but that's always a reason) and I will discuss them briefly now.
I am writing this on my sister's lappy at my friend's house because I still do not have internet at my house and have only been able to use it at the library which I have not been able to get to because of pain. I still don't have internet because The Incompetent Boob has been trying to sabotage the lives of both myself and my sister, I guess because he doesn't have one himself. The Boob is now claiming that it's not working due to "memory problems" with the last password and if you know anything at all about computers--or even if you don't--this is laughable bullshit. Our computer friend is face palming and my sister and I are doing likewise.
Pain. Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain.
This is something I used to avoid writing about and talking about (before it became my life) because everyone is on a massive ego trip and if you voice anything at all about your pain or your abuse or your shitty life you'll be labelled a pussy and immediately be subjected to a verbal ego wank-off that usually consists of them giving you an extremely unhelpful example of how easily your problems are solved and then you'll get to hear about all of their problems, 90% of which they have brought on themselves and 89% of which involve their insane spouse which they absolutely have not brought on them self, that's what you're doing.
But I digress (sort of). I have been bedridden for most of the last month as my breasts decided to have another especially bad flareup. Not, thankfully, as bad as the one last December but bad enough to make my life Fucking Hell. Since I had to lie in bed all day my spine went out horribly (C1 forward this time) and instead of getting migraines it felt like my head was going to explode 24/7. My computer friend's dad was able to give me a ride to the chiropractor (thank god) as my usual ride's car is broken. I also had one of the worst periods I've had since starting the Vitex (a.k.a. chasteberry) which I am going to blame on the emotional train wreck of the preceding two and a half weeks.
My breast flareup has gone down a bit, thankfully, but they are still giving me hell if I do too much of anything at all (except lying down which ruins my spine). I got the news that any kind of imaging to--maybe--find out what the hell is going on is out of the question due to the pain which was a kick to the nuts. Might talk about that later but might not. My breast issues are something I don't mind filling someone in on but as this is the internet I have some reservations about talking openly about my breasts for reasons I feel really don't need to be named.
Right now, I'm just trying to get my stamina up enough to be able to get out for a walk daily and be able to do all my stretches at least once a day. Being able to eat at least two proper meals a day would be ideal but all the scrubbing and stirring, etc. exhausts me and aggravates my breasts too much to do regularly. Due to this I've lost weight which is bad because I don't have weight to lose.
That said, I have been writing some but nothing I wish to share with anyone. It's been bad. Things have been really fucking bad. I'm trying to work in some comic-making time as I've got the outline for a few written out and am absolutely, positively itching to get back to work on that. So those are my goals right now.
Yesterday I walked four miles to the grocery store to get oatmeal and fake hotdogs. I sat in the deli area where I read and picked at the zits on my forehead for an hour.
That was the most relaxed I have been in over a month.
-Erin
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