Anxiety Is a Strange Animal

To begin with, THIS was in my mother's car a bit ago. 

 

It traveled with us to a friend's house and then vanished.  We assume it is no longer in the car. 

Next up!  Below is a sketch for a painting a never did.  It was to illustrate how my relationship with my now ex felt.  Very black and white, yet up and down.  I'm happy that I never painted it, but at the same time... a bit sad that I didn't get the chance to.

 

Below, I attempted to illustrate in a concise way what it was like to slowly but smoothly glide into a depression as deep as the one I am currently struggling against.  It includes what was going on at the time of each stage.  For those who missed it, the fish bone was this incident: A Fishbone is Slowly Driving Me Mad

And then, the climb back up to normalcy.  Or at least, to as close as I ever was to it to begin with.  My hope is to come up a different way than I had gone last time.  That way, I can be a functioning adult who not only eats again, but maybe also drives.

In an attempt to just express what I had been feeling about the whole thing, I made what sits right below this text.  Under that is a rough explanation of what is there, since it's difficult to really see. 

Okay.  Time for too much text.  Ready?  Go!


 

The easiest way to write about this piece is to pick it apart and then elaborate from there.

There are reddish words and greenish words. Only one is both. “Whole” has a green W to imply that I feel full of holes, and wish only to be whole again.

The rest of the red phrases are “Who am I now?” and “Where have I gone?” These are pretty self explanatory. Sitting among these is the symbol that was my first tattoo. It's a symbol representing my birthday, something that can't change, no matter what happens to me. The idea was to “re-brand” myself as my own and show myself that I have control over my body and my life. Because of this, I felt it made sense here.

The green phrases and words are less concise and more desperate. These are mostly yelling at myself, but partly for friends and family as well. Capitalizing is just a way of shouting in text form.

OPEN

COME BACK

SAVE ME

Help me

Find me

Open my head again

REBEL

My own worst enemy

COME Find ME

OPEN MY HEAD

Scraps of bandages cover the whole thing on and off because I'm trying to piece myself back together and feel like everyone can see the bandages I've placed over the gaping wounds. Even if people are standing ready with sewing supplies to stitch me up, I'm too afraid to let them. Instead, I stand covered in bloody bandages, dripping all over everything, making a huge mess.

Separate yet attached to this piece is a tiny canvas towards the bottom right. It has a bandage on it linking it to the rest of the piece. The ripped out newspaper headline reads “Doesn't Deserve” because this is the single idea that has been festering and infecting everything else in my head. I wondered why I didn't deserve a certain someone's attention while everyone else did. I wondered why I deserved to get sick and have the pain I have while much worse people who live much riskier lives were fine and healthy.

The idea that I don't deserve the good OR the bad has on and off again messed with my idea of spirituality since I was a kid. In that sense, it doesn't surprise me that it's still a relevant issue in my life. The only force that seemed to be in control of things was a dark one with a terrible sense of humor. This even came up after the car accident. See: Birthday Bashing

I was so happy to even want to drive, and then got smashed in the side. I realize I could have taken this as “See? I can survive almost anything! Driving will be a cinch!” But I didn't. I took it as “Look how close I came to dying. Look how little power the driver had. Look how that couldn't be avoided by us at all. Look how little control we have over other people and the horrible things they do...” and so on.

Eventually it became, “Look how little my problems matter to those I care about.”

That last one is one that I'm currently struggling to shake, which is completely unfair to my friends and family who are trying so hard to convince me I'm safe and loved. I remember when I believed them and knew I was okay and safe. Remembering doesn't seem to cut it.

It's like I'm recalling someone else's memories entirely. “Sure, THAT person was fine for weeks at a time and never had any allergic reaction, but THIS one can't swallow anymore because she is constantly at risk.”

*Ahem*

Other newspaper clippings:

“Being Average Just Got a Little More Fun” for the fact that I miss feeling like one of the group.

“seeks answers” “unusual” I put these two together out of bitterness. I felt like I was kept out of the loop in my own home. If I asked too many questions, I was called nosy, even when the answer would affect me directly. Some of it was sort of for my own good, but still really insanely hurtful.

“Relationship Advice Doled Out” is only partly true. Plenty of advice like “give it time” and “well, you two LOOK happy...” was given at the time. My friends back home realized there were things wrong towards the end, but being far away and only having what I was saying to go by wasn't easy to work with. Sometimes we were very happy. Those happy times were enough to let me know that we could be wonderful, so I stayed. The bad didn't seem abusive enough to leave.

I didn't realize how needy I really am. Fact is, I should be with someone who wants that much to be around me too.

“The Most Unlikely” “Suicide” is for the fact that I really was absolutely at risk, but not because I wanted to be. I went out there so full of hope and wound up in such physical and emotional distress... When I got to the point of not eating and being too depressed to even want to try anymore, it was beyond giving up. I wouldn't have slit my wrists or taken pills because it would have been too much effort for an outcome I really didn't want.

I just assumed that I was going to die and that it was whatever Powers That Be deciding to make me miserable enough that I finally would give up.

My life, like many lives, is a lot of constantly fighting and checking and testing and running.

The food allergies really have finally gotten to me. Beyond physically. The idea that a normal food, even a healthy one, could kill me by me just having a bite... It's so sick. The idea that this cause of death even exists in the world is horrifying to me and the knowledge that allergies can spring up any time is what is currently ruining my life.

“flattering” for what I didn't get.

“thirsting” “water” for knowing that I have what I need in order to get better. I just have to tap into it.

“biggest test” is self explanatory.

“Scares its Way” is right by a caution sign to the right. It says, “CAUTION: Contains functional sharp points and functional sharp edge” There are certain things one often has to do in order to succeed, and sometimes these are nasty things. I could not do these things, so I wasn't good enough or taken seriously. I was too honest, too giving a shit about others, and too hard to argue with. I would stand my ground, and that made me unlikable in action. I say in action because I was still being told that I was so “unique and wonderful” for it. All lies. I just didn't fit in with that subculture and that wasn't anyone's fault.

Beyond scaring people off and using my “sharp edge” only when needed, I've become this caution sign for a different reason. Now, I am entirely a functional sharp edge. I'm on edge all the time and still feeling so broken and strange and wrong, but I function enough to feel less than completely useless.

“Shakes Thing Up a Bit” is not something I generally follow, but something I know I need to do. I need to go out of this new horribly constricting, not so comfortable comfort zone I've created for myself.

“When will this stop?” is an honest question.

“Adding Injury to Insult” is what I felt about the entire situation after the fact. This includes breaking up with me while I was having a panic attack and then IMMEDIATELY taking me out on a date, though in super-retrospect that is pretty freaking funny.

Still, so much of what I decided was fine was really an amazing amount of not okay.

“can't cope” ...How I still occasionally feel, though less and less often.

“Stabbed” “Swing back” Even though I felt betrayed, I need to hop back up and understand that it is, in fact, okay on some level. I am okay and my relationships with others are still intact.

An “Exit” sign is stuck on here towards the bottom left. It includes the icon of a man walking out a door. Under this sit three more newspaper pieces. “Clock Finally Starts Ticking” for not being able to pretend that I don't have some kind of anxiety disorder, “A Necessary Evil?” for moving back in with my family (Also, “return” and “home” keys sit next to each other underneath this.), and “Dr. Answers” for the fact that I immediately went to a bunch of doctors and found that, yes, I actually had real damage in my throat. So, as in my head as it all is, it's not actually ALL in my head. There is something physically wrong. You can read about this here: Okay, So it Wasn't The Fishbone.

Also by this sign is a keyboard key that just reads “esc” for obvious reasons.

...I escape by coming back to where the first trauma happened? Really? But as sick as it is, it's a comfort. I have an easier time “testing” foods (even ones that I know are okay, but just haven't had since coming back) when my mother is around. However, I successfully did this with a turkey dog and mustard. I hadn't had either yet and my writer friend actually cut the hotdog into little octopi. I say “successfully” in that I ate one. I had a panic attack, but I still finished as much as I could and talked through the attack.
I've determined that having an attack is okay. It's the getting through it and having them get less and less intense and shorter and shorter each time that is the important part.

The other keys, going from top to bottom are a symbol for making things quiet (because I felt hushed), shift, control, clear, end, ?, delete, shift, control, alt/option, help, delete, and a symbol for making things louder at the very end.

The two fortune cookie papers read, “Learn from how people in the arts react to criticism.” for the fact that I took it all like a champ until I just couldn't take anything at all anymore...

And, “The hard times will begin to fade. Joy will take their place.” As a reminder to me.

The thin red yarn spiral is to show how I've been feeling. Spinning, downward spiraling, dizzy in every sense. Still, spirals remain one of my favorite shapes.

The cards are the last thing. There are three sets of them.

-Two of Clubs, Three of Clubs, Ace of Clubs and Four of Clubs are for the fact that I went there imagining it being a romantic scene, but then it was us three buddies all the time. This was awesome until I wound up the lone Ace. Then, with another housemate, it was the four of us for a while.

-Later, there are a Jack of Diamonds, a King of Hearts and a Jack of Hearts to represent the three of them, with the lone Queen of Hearts off to the left, separated by text and bandages.

-Lastly, at the bottom is the Joker. This is for the humor and ridiculousness of it all, and also for my friend who was sort of helpful? ...Kind of? Supportive. The word is supportive. That he was.

The specific colors have no meaning beyond trying to separate the words more.

 Now then.  On to current affairs. 

 I haven't posted any new Deddrie comics because I'm waiting until my computer gets here.  That should be pretty soon.  ...Hopefully.  Also, a friend is helping me revamp the www.deddrie.com site again.  Woot!



Another friend and I are collaborating on things that will hopefully become a show at some point in the near future.  Here is a small preview:

Finally, in most of my free/personal time, I'm working on Donna Pierce.  Here is a new panel: 

And now...

I leave you with this!

Laundry Day Is A Very Dangerous Day

And really any day in this household is a chaotic mess.  ...They mean well.

Living at home again is very odd on several levels, beyond being something I hoped would never happen.  I'm in my mid twenties, so I'm very content with the idea of at least pretending to be a real adult type person, but these are strange times in our economy, as well as in my life.
  
I forgot about the dangers of doing laundry here, for example.
Going down the basement steps with a hamper:

Spiders in the basement:

Also, the dangers of a bored out of her mind cat.  This is a very pretty cat:

She is an indoor cat, and lived with dogs and another indoor cat who was de-clawed, but she was never de-clawed herself.  She was also raised by a dog, for the most part.  These each come with their own special problems.
Mainly though, her playfulness causes a lot of danger.  If you've ever seen "Simon's Cat," you'll quickly get the idea.

Pain when feeling playful and one is not wearing shoes:

Face planting on stairs when she feels like playing at bottom and you are going up:

Face planting with everything broken when she feels like playing at the top of the stairs:

Lately, she has also started trolling my family.
We've decided this is all because she doesn't get enough attention.
By “we” I mean my family has been watching cat shows on television too much.  The vet said she's healthy, so yeah... this shouldn't be happening.
She'll use the litter box, but still shit wherever she damn well pleases. 
She'll shit by the computer, by my parent's bed...  Every goddamn place. 

She also has an issue with my sister's dog.  This, I find understandable.  The dog looks like a failed muppet.
It's like something Jim Henson shat out on an off day and went “Ew.  That'll never work on Fraggle Rock.  Better put the sad little pathetic thing up for adoption before Gonzo accidentally blows it up or something.”

To clarify, this is a “hairless Chinese Crested” and it's the same breed as the dog once voted ugliest dog in the world.  That particular dog was more like what my sister's would be after reading the Necronomicon, but as this particular “dog” ages, it's getting close to that anyway. 

Still, she's a smart stupid little thing.  Smart because she is very manipulative for a dog.  Stupid because we, as a family, aren't great at training things.

I'm amazed that I can take a shit by myself.  ...Though I learned by getting a treat of M&Ms every time I did it.  ...That says something.

So, while the dog adds a creepy factor (and likes to go for my kneecaps when I enter the house) and the cat is sharp... there are also the other things in the house.  We have a turtle who my parents desperately wish to get rid of (it lead to the death of the other turtle), a snake that is so freaking lazy that it doesn't even want us to try to pretend the food is alive anymore, and bugs.  Some bugs, like my sister's pet hissing cockroaches, are on purpose:

Some are not. 

Seriously.  So many freaking spiders.  I honestly don't mind spiders, until there are tens of thousands of them in my face.

They have hammocks now.  It's like a freaking spider hotel.

I mind silverfish a lot less now than I used to, but I think it's because I looked them up and took the time to learn about what they really do.  Cockroaches are neat to me now too.  ...Spiders just get worse the more I know about them.

EDIT: The actual web-hammock:

I had also forgotten about the kind of non-sequiturs you hear in this house.  Things like “It's on fire again” and “I didn't know if it was poison ivy, so I touched it just in case” or even “Dad, I'm trying to learn how to wire a cat's jaw shut!”  ...Most of these are from my older sister.  The fire related ones tend to be my father.  Either way, the fuck. 

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.

So:

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!

Lookit:
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. 

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.
No.

As for the art community:

It can go ahead and fuck itself.

A Fishbone is Slowly Driving Me Mad

Okay, so, as most of you know by now, whenever I say "Wow, this has been the most awesome day ever!" something horrible happens.

This was particularly evident on my birthday: (see Birthday Bashing)

Here are some pictures I drew that may help describe what I've been feeling:

You know, like a chest burster from Alien, but in my throat.

So, here's what happened.  Ready?
The day was awesome.  I had gone out with a friend and her mother thrift-shopping.  Then, we wandered around town a bit and looked at some artwork, including some awesome outside sculpture.
Then, there was dinner.  They had made reservations and included me!  YAY!  People think of me! 

This is where happy set in.

This was a terrible mistake.

I got a salad, wary that I often don't think I'm going to be having an allergic reaction to something, and then something goes terribly wrong.  I had this weird "Something bad is about to happen to me" feeling, so I figured a salad would be safe.

Technically speaking, it was.

(EDIT: Okay, as it turns out, the reason bad things often happen when I have a bad feeling is because it's really just a panic attack waiting to happen.  Otherwise, I probably would have been...well, not "fine" but less bad?  I guess?)

On this salad was an anchovy.  Three of them, actually.  They mocked me.  Since they had been sliced open and had all their innards removed, I popped one into my mouth. 

The whole thing. 

Even the head.

I'm an idiot.

I felt that there was a bone, but there wasn't really any pain.
Instead, I got this sudden warm sensation followed by a serious sense of light-headedness. 

This is generally the first sign that I've eaten something I'm deadly allergic to, so I assumed I was going to die unless I took the necessary steps. 

I calmly excused myself, saying that I thought I might be having an allergic reaction, and went to the bathroom to desperately try to vomit up the offending food item.

I couldn't puke.

This is a terrifying thing, knowing that all I had on me was a couple benadryl and an expired epi-pen.

Again, I'm none too smart.

EDIT:  I couldn't vomit because of an amazing amount of throat damage that I was unaware of even having.  But shh... I didn't know that when I wrote this entry. 

So, I sat my ass back down and drank some water, noting that the flashing warmth and panic seemed to be going in and out, which is admittedly odd for an allergic reaction.  I took the benadryl and requested that I go home.

I felt like garbage, and my housemate took care of me.

By "took care of me", I mean that he was polite enough to ask if it was okay that he was going to have a girl over and have sex and not really pay attention to me.  If I had looked worse, I'm sure he would have rushed to my aid, (Probably.  ...Hopefully) but over all I was just confused and miserable and I assume he was well aware of that.

A week went by and I was fine.  I forgot about it entirely.

Then, the fishbone moved.

This is where some may say, "Bullshit.  If it was a bone, you would have noticed the discomfort for that whole week."

Clearly, these are people who do not have chronic discomfort.
I do.
My throat is always a little wonky.  My glands are always kinda puffy.  I'm always a little physically miserable.  So, no.  I didn't notice a difference.

Every time I swallowed anything, even water, that warm sensation and head spinning flared up. 

I called Boyfriend and he and Housemate came to pick me up to take me to the ER.  They had errands to run and people to meet up with, so Boyfriend wasn't going to stay with me there.  He looked very sad about this.  He held my hand, kissed me on the head, and DID stay with me at least until I was all checked in.

(EDIT: This is the part that makes my father want to punch everything in the world.  While I am endlessly forgiving to a fault when I'm in a relationship, this doesn't change the fact that he left his panic attack ridden girlfriend at the ER.)

I was fine, obviously not dying, but very much worried and panicking. 

What I didn't know was that I was surrounded by quacks.

After waiting a thousand trillion bazillion years, I was ushered into a cubicle.  Not an examining room... A cubicle.  I waited for the doctor there.  I could hear everyone else's ailments.  I watched as a girl in the stall next to me got up and walked around a few times, explaining that she was claustrophobic.

Then, I felt myself swallow the bone. 

The doctor came in.  He was nice enough, but he looked down my throat for all of a second with a flashlight and no scope, and then proclaimed that it must not be a bone and must be seasonal allergies. 

As someone with a shit ton of allergies, I can tell you, no. 

No.

Just no.

(EDIT: Turns out, he wasn't entirely wrong.  Check out Okay, So it Wasn't the Fishbone.)

Then, I was moved to another not-examining-room to sit in a circle of chairs with a bunch of other people where were sitting by their loved ones.

Oh, look.  Some people have loved ones.

A nurse man came in and handed me a little bottle.  I thought about keeping the bottle because it reminded me of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, but filled with a numbing drug, rather than something else.

I was told to chug it.

Then he ran away.

Okay, yes, I was in the ER so if I had keeled over, someone would have (hopefully) noticed and done something, but I'm used to a doctor or nurse sticking around when I'm taking a new medication to see if there is any bad reaction.

Nervous, I drank it down.  It numbed up my throat, but since I wasn't really in any direct pain to begin with, making my throat numb and making it warm and even more difficult to use for swallowing just made me panic even more.

Thankfully, it wore off quick.

The nurse came back and asked if it helped.  When I said no and why it didn't help, he let me leave.

...Then a nurse looked at my chart, back at me, back at the chart and said, "Oh, this is totally a fishbone.  This doesn't make sense as allergies.  It'll pass."

Thank you nurse lady.

So, a week after that, I'm fine, until it flares up again.  It wasn't as bad that time, but still jarring and a bit fucked up in the grand scheme of things.  I called the ear, nose and throat doctor to make an appointment and this happened:

So, okay.  Two weeks isn't bad.  I had already gone that amount of time with this bone reeking havoc on my life, so fine.

...


And then it got worse. 

No more warm sensation, or spinning... But my throat was healing whatever had been scratched up, and so, still, it's difficult to swallow and sometimes to breathe.

I noticed that tilting my head felt better, and found myself doing it all the time.  Even when talking to people.

After a while, I stopped eating, afraid of what it would feel like.

Even with barely any food in my stomach, I started getting nauseous.

I became weak, walking around on the floor on all fours, because when I stood up, I'd just fall over.

And then finally:

Which somehow led to me questioning my entire position in life and what the Hell I'm doing at 26 instead of following my dreams.

It was like the stages of grief, but with more stabbing pains in my stomach from trying to digest a freaking bone and nothing else.

I've gotten a system of eating everything very slowly and trying to take benadryl on occasion to reduce swelling.  I see the doctor in three or so days.

(EDIT: As it turns out, what I did during this time turned into what some do on purpose as the "Apple Juice Detox Diet" and I would not recommend it.  I did lose fifteen pounds but to begin with, I was only about a hundred.)

Really, I just want to know if it's itchy and extra puffy now because it's healing, or if I'm just infected.  We'll find out soon.  Woo.

(EDIT: Again, check out Okay, So it Wasn't the Fishbone for more.)

My To-Do List Vs. Reality

Thing I should be doing:
Updating Deddrie.com

What this entails:
Drawing a freaking comic, scanning it, posting it.  It's not that complicated.

Thing I say to myself:
"Is it really that hard to do a stab joke?  Deddrie can be crude and stupid.  That's why he's so great.  This doesn't have to be so thought out!  We have FANS that are waiting!"

My insane rationale for not doing it:
"But... I have these that are too big to scan and I'm waiting to do that so I can edit and... and...  and...  ..."  There is no viable rationale. 


Thing I should be doing:
Homework.

What this entails:
Reading stuff I find interesting, writing brief responses, and drawing a bit.  You know, that thing I love doing anyway.

My insane rationale for not doing it:
I'm not sure exactly what I should do, and I want to impress this class.

...So I do... nothing?  Kay.  What?


Thing I should be doing:
Going over Moth again and publishing the damn thing.

What I'm doing instead:
Occasionally writing bits of things that could go into other things and then forgetting what notebook it was in or just scrapping it... 
OR starting an entirely new story with the characters. 


Thing I should be doing:
Planning out the comic of Mr. No and doing another page of Donna.
Mr. No animation

Reason I should be doing these things:
They'll actually be publishable and I could move on with my damn life.  I mean, look at them.  Interesting shit, right?

Reason I'm not doing this:
I... don't know.  Fear of screwing it up?  No idea.  Donna, at least, it's a matter of finding someone to do color and backgrounds, but also a matter of having the money to pay someone to do said color and backgrounds.  ...It's a bit of a vicious cycle.



Thing I WANT to do:
Play Alice: Madness Returns

Legitimate reason I want to:
I played the first game over and over on the computer.  As an enormous fan of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and everything even mildly related to it, I loved this game.  I loved the Psychological elements and the character designs and... everything.  LOVE.  So, I bought the sequel as soon as I could.

Insane reason I'm not doing it:
I have trouble with point with one, look with other controls and I'm too stubborn to learn in order to play a game I waited over a decade to play.  My real reason?  Imagined embarrassment. 

I'm so frustrated by these types of controls (based on when I was, like, thirteen or something) that everyone else is awesome at, that I'm actually afraid to even try, thinking I will look stupid.  Mind you, I can play when I'm ALONE IN THE HOUSE, but I'm still assuming someone will come in and see me failing and be like "Wow.  Noob" even though no one cares how I play MY damn game.  The roommates in my head are drastically worse than any of my actual friends in real life.  I know this.  So, I keep myself from playing a game, and instead watch videos and cry about how no one will play the game for me, so I can just watch it... Knowing I'll be frustrated when they aren't doing what I would do. 

I know this is stupid. 


Thing I should be doing:
Doing a better post.

Reason I'm not:
Honestly, it's like a baby depression. 

I have so many things I want and should do, that I'm just overwhelmed and not doing anything. 

Because of a lack of comments, even though people post on other things about it, I don't believe anyone is reading this.

Also, I'm hyped up on Benadryl because a fish bone is ruining my life.  ...I'm sure I'll do a post about that eventually.



Thing I'm doing instead:

"Stupid games on internet" is what that says.  I'm not rescanning.  Nope.  Not gonna.






In other news: