Oh, Finally....

It's been a million years since I wrote a blog post, and even longer since I actually published one. Between Christmas, New Year's and the holiday hang over blues and nasty inflammatory flare, the last thing I've wanted to do was try to come up with pithy and amusing anecdotes about my sad little life.

I had a doctor's appointment about a week ago, and he FINALLY fucking got it...that I'm actually, truly in pain, that there really and truly is wrong (thank you, for something finally showing up in the lab work) and he gave me drugs, and referred me back to Stanford's rheumatology clinic. Which is good for him because if he hadn't I was going to cut that motherfucker.

So, I'm trying to take the drugs as little as possible because, after all, I'm a mom to kid with Type 1 diabetes, and I'm a full time student. (Well, hello, spring semester, where the hell did you come from?) And I'm awaiting the late February rheumatology appointment rather impatiently. I would give just about anything to feel normal again...to not have to psych myself up for five minutes just to endure the pain of standing up...to not be so tired that getting dressed lays me out flat.

I want to talk about something The Bloggess put up the other day...about not being ashamed of mental illness, and "coming out" and letting others who are suffering know that it's okay to get help. I'm bipolar and it took me years to get properly diagnosed because I only ever sought treatment when I was so depressed that someone forced me to admit that I needed help. I'm damn lucky that the years of being prescribed antidepressants that were not intended to treat bipolar disorder didn't send me over the brink and land me in the hospital or worse. It's not that I didn't know that not being able to sleep and talking a million words a minute and spending the rent money on frivolous crap were abnormal, it's that being manic feels good...until it doesn't. I also have anxiety disorder and suffer from panic attacks...it's why I'm awake right now, actually. I woke up in the middle of the night in a full blown panic attack, and though the Ativan has brought me down from the ledge, I have had so many nights when there were no drugs and I was too ashamed or scared to ask for help, and only the thought of what it would do the midget and the Archaeogoddess has kept me from hurting myself.

What prompted The Bloggess to "come out" was the breakdown and subsequent suicide of the husband of a fellow blogger. It's heartbreaking that it ever gets that far, that someone, for whatever reason, is too ashamed or frightened to seek help when something's not right. There's such a stigma attached to mental illness, and there fucking shouldn't be. My bipolar disorder is no less a disease than my Fibro, or my arthritis, but that doesn't mean other people accept it as such, or that I've always treated it as such.

My point? If something's wrong...get help. Staying quiet and suffering nobly is bullshit. And you aren't saving your family and friends by suffering in silence. Hiding that shit from them will hurt them and scare them far more than telling them and letting them help you. Trust me on this.

Come out. Get help.

Arthritis robbed me of my Christmas spirit

I'm trying to find my Christmas spirit. I've had it as I did all of my Christmas shopping online. I had it when I was sobbing over this amazing miracle The Bloggess inspired in so many people. I had it this weekend while I was making dough ornaments with the midgets and her cousins. I even had it as I was wrapping presents last night.

This morning, though, I woke up with a raging motherfucking arthritis flare. I can barely walk and there isn't a single position that feels comfortable or pain free. It's some bullshit, yo! I'm taking massive doses of NSAIDs and Tramadol and from time to time Vicodin and it's still agony. Makes it hard to think about Christmas and Santa and all that bullshit.

The only thing that's helping at all is singing this song at the top of my lungs, I don't know why...maybe it's the beat, which is truly groovy...or maybe it's yelling "Fuck You" at the top of my lungs.

Reason #862 I love the Archeaogoddess

A year or so ago, I got an e-mail from my most beloved Archaeogoddess with a link to a blog she thought I would enjoy. As usual, she was totally fucking right. And I fell in love immediately with The Bloggess.

This was the post that started it all. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. I spent the rest of that day reading through her archives and have been hooked since. Jenny, The Bloggess, is an amazingly funny, brilliant and irreverent writer. She has a beautiful soul, and a gorgeous smile. I love this woman. If it wouldn't require so much time and energy (since she lives in Texas of all the godforsaken places) I would totally stalk her. Though, since she's not a social butterfly and has a tendency to hide in bathrooms, it probably wouldn't be so difficult, come to think of it.

Anyway, since I'm doing my best to stalk her in the only ways available to me at the moment, I was totally on it when she made a Twitter request for favorite blog posts about Victor, the luckiest man in the world her husband. This was the blog post I immediately wanted to nominate, because it's fucking hilarious. Of course, I was in a pain induced fog, so I couldn't remember the name of the blog post or when it was posted, so I spent the day reading through her archives, and it kept me from crying. Because, seriously, the pain was that bad yesterday, but she's made of the awesome and can make anything better. Seriously, if I could bottle the woman, I would.

If you are unfamiliar with her blog, go there now and fall in love, and share her with all of your friends and family. Friends and family who can take a joke, because amongst some of her more memorable jokes are things like dead kitten mittens for the homeless. She also has an advice column and a sex column, both of which are equally hilarious.

Well, what the fuck are you still doing on this rinky dink little blog...go...spend the whole day reading The Bloggess' archives and fall in love.

Thank You, Bloggess, For Saying It Better Than I Ever Could

Like so many people who believe in equality for all, I've been following the story of the girl whose school cancelled the prom rather than allow her to attend with her girlfriend. The latest chapter in this ugly, hate-filled saga can be found here.

Now, go read what The Bloggess has to say. And say a little prayer to whatever powers you believe in for all the gay kids without Constance's ability to believe in herself and face down the people who are showering her with hatred. You know that there are kids who are gay, who don't know it, or can't admit it yet, attending that school, and likely attending the other prom, and the scars they will bear from this will never leave them.

And then...if you have time or money and are looking for a worthy cause to support...go here. Gay teens are at a higher risk of suicide than any other demographic.