Sunday, June 17, 2012

I Wrote a Blog-Like Thing!

Soon, I'll have a real post for (all 7 of) you.
I'm in the process of moving EVERYTHING I ever owned back to my homeland...  I'm sure that'll be a post too.  Hopefully a happy one.

...For now, here are some examples of how well I've been handling myself since my not so triumphant return.  Please click on any images that you feel should be blown up larger.  Clearly, my art here has such amazing amounts of detail that you'll want to see every pen stroke. :-D  Shh.

First of all, I've lost my grasp on the English language.  I say things that make sense on some level, but not enough levels:

Also, my mom and I totally just had two different conversations with ourselves... at each other...  as though we were talking to each other.  Soooo crazy is a family trait.  Good to know.

This mega crazy factor has been hard on my friendships.  Well, that isn't true.  It SHOULD have been hard on them, but thankfully my closest friends are endlessly patient.  I've even met some new people who very quickly showed just how wonderful they are.

Still, I feel like this is what is happening:

I've also developed an odd relationship with food.
Now, even as a kid, I've always had that to a certain extent for a number of reasons, (and I'll write a blog post about that next I think) but this is just ridiculous.  The paranoia is amazing:

I lost a good ten to fifteen pounds in two weeks before moving back.  This is particularly awful because I was only about 100 pounds to begin with at my heaviest.


I know I'm already starting to look better as my confidence slowly returns, but for now, I still feel like I look like crap.  

Lastly, my sense of heat seems off.  Everything is either too warm or too cold, and I blame the fact that I'm underweight again.

This is what I look like while trying to turn off the air conditioning unit in my parent's bedroom:

I'll explain myself better next time.
In the meantime, I wrote a thing!

Dating Horror Stories: The Mistake

Also, a silly poem:
Summertime Questions

...and a book review:
Snake Skin

With that, I leave you with a sexy Alice and a happy pumpkin. 

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Okay, So It Wasn't The Fishbone

Okay. I'm going to go ahead and finish that “Fishbone Slowly Driving Me Mad” story.

Apparently, while the fishbone DID freaking hurt, the reason it was stuck snugly for a week and induced this horrible state for a month, was because of previous damage in my throat that I had been ignoring.

Shithead ER doctor who didn't even look at me before going “It's seasonal allergies” was actually kind of right. Sort of. It was a lucky guess.

Meanwhile, after waiting two weeks to see the real Ear, Nose and Throat doctor... which made it a month since I swallowed the bone... He ALSO didn't use a scope or anything. He decided I had acid reflux, though I had no other symptoms. He told me to lift the head of my bed with boards or bricks. Pillows wouldn't cut it, because they'd just force my head forward and wind up hurting my neck. Kay.

I'm tiny, so I had to enlist my housemates/at-the-time-boyfriend to assist. This took forever, as I had to be in tears before anyone would help me do such a thing that seemed so trivial. I should have just hired someone.

At some point during all this, we helped a friend do a video where I was pretending to break up with le at-the-time-boyfriend. Since I felt like he had been avoiding me (Well, lets face it, since we started dating), this induced the worst panic attack of my entire life. A good friend who also gets these sat with me and knew just what to do to get me to stop flipping out.

This was all after I had been forgotten about at the other doctor and walked home.
This would have been fine if I had had sunblock.
Or water.
I had neither. I came back brown and dehydrated.

The next day, I took a pill for acid reflux. It got stuck on whatever was wrong with my throat. I choked for a moment, then had another attack.

Sometime after that, I fell down in a Target from lack of food and being over heated/dehydrated. Housemate carried me to the car. I remember thinking “my hero!” and feeling really bad about it.
In retrospect, it's not like he took me to the hospital or even straight home. We did errands, picked up Other Housemate, found a puppy on the side of the road...

The puppy was adorable, but trying to find the owner became the important thing of that day, so I kind of got forgotten about.  ...again.

For two weeks, I attempted to eat one thing a day, and mostly failed. I went into a deep depression and it was during that time that Boyfriend broke up with me.
The final straw seemed to be when I explained that conditional love is not real love and it was driving me nuts.  I was afraid to tell him if I was upset or injured or needed help in some way, knowing he'd just stop "loving" me.
He agreed that it wasn't right.
Really, the kindest, most loving thing he ever did was let me the fuck go.

Immediately after breaking up with me, he took me to a movie.
Okay. So... All I needed to do was break up with him... and then he'd be a boyfriend? Kay.

It's been difficult since to not let his weirdness screw things up with any new potential romances.

"Do you really have a personality of your own or are you like the Pokemon Ditto?"

My new criteria for a boyfriend seems to be "Would actually stay for a while after taking me to the ER" and there is something very sad about that.

Somewhere before then had been an incident in a restaurant of someone swearing up and down there were no nuts in a product that was chock full of walnuts.

EDIT: Okay, so I had been to this place a few times before.  Awesome pulled pork and bagels.  I was waiting for my carpool to show up so we could go on a field trip.  Since I don't drive, it's actually rare that I'm anywhere alone, and I generally like that aspect of not driving.  
I wanted an apple turnover.  I asked if there were any nuts involved.  I was told "No" and I still asked again with an, "Are you sure?  Cause, I'm seriously allergic."  I was told "No, but one half is apple and the other half is peach."  Well, I like peaches and you couldn't tell what half was which anyway, so sure.  I got through the apple half with a smile on my face, and when I hit the peach half, it didn't even occur to me that he could have meant "So, the apple half is nut free, but the peach half is chock full of walnuts"... because that would be the stupidest thing in the world. 
But that is exactly what he fucking meant.  I had eaten one and realized while the second was in my mouth what was going on.  No rash or anything, but still a tree nut.  So, I ran to the bathroom and tried in vain to vomit.  Right.  Throat damage.  Kay.  A nice old lady handed me a glass of water.  I felt like a giant asshole.  
I sat back down and took too many Benadryl, and when my companions came, I told them what happened.  They were fine with the whole idea and I continued taking drugs for the rest of the day just in case.  Still went on that field trip though.

And then we started consistently living with another thing I was deathly allergic to... Which made me not want to even open the refrigerator anymore.
My sense of safety and my trust in others who "cared about me" was severely shaken.  Laughing it off didn't help.  It just let those who actually DID care think I was still okay.

In any case, I had reached the point where I really did not care if I lived or died, because it didn't feel like most other people particularly cared if I lived or died either.

I packed with a friend as much as I could, while contemplating doing the worst, “knowing” that Housemate and Ex were planning on driving down to my homeland, so they would take my packed crap. It would be fair, since I had packed Housemate's crap and my parents drove it to him right along with mine ten months prior.
Housemate didn't agree that he owed me anything, so that idea went away pretty quickly. However, I didn't know that it would no longer be a valid option until a week after I had already gotten home. I sent money repeatedly to Other Housemate to make sure it was all set, and got to work desperately trying to get a driver to move my crap.

Getting on the plane was interesting. Having a quiet panic attack for hours while people talk behind you about the very foods that can hurt you is really an odd sensation for a neurotic mess with serious food allergies while on a plane.

Anyway, I made it home. It's been weird... and everything I own is still on the other side of the country.
My clothing, my computer, my artwork, my books... If I had realized it would be this long, I would have shipped everything to myself in chunks. It doesn't really matter though.
I'd just like it out of the way of my former housemates.
In terms of having it here with me, so long as I'm back with my family, it can wait. My sanity, however, couldn't wait. I needed to leave in order to save my life.

So, yes. I failed, but it wasn't due to anything anyone assumed.

In fact, when I got back, I saw an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor I actually trust. He used a scope and everything.
 No, I don't have acid reflux.
I had three GIANT stripes of PAIN in the back of my throat from post nasal drip.
It was from environmental allergies.

I wasn't homeless, I was out there for more reasons than just Ex, and while I didn't get any closer to living my dream... I actually got a lot closer after moving back. I find that interesting.

Anyway, I had moved out there for a number of reasons.
A: My health. My allergies here are pretty bad, and I knew they wouldn't be the same out there. To a certain extent, I was right.
B: To live with someone I trusted who I thought cared about me like a sister.
C: To go to school and finish my degree.
D: To live in an art community.
E: To at least try to be with a man who seemed to really want to give it a shot.
...Unfortunately, he was only in it for the chase, and I don't play games.
Gee, sorry I'm not a conniving Hell-bitch?  What the fuck do you want from me?
If I learned any girl tricks during this time, I can honestly say that I'm sorry to whoever comes next, and that I hate him a little for turning me into exactly the kind of woman men complain about.
I wasn't that way to begin with.

My health is the one that really upsets me. I remember coughing, people saying happily “Yeah, that's seasonal allergies! Haw haw!” and I would shrug it off, pretending it wasn't happening.
I had moved across the country. I couldn't have this problem now.

The school part was only upsetting because it's a two year school. I was coming in with a year of work done. They told me that because those credits were randomly spread out within the program and everything had to be taken in a certain order and at a certain time, I would be part time forever... making me stay there for two and a half years.

As for the art community:

It can go ahead and fuck itself.