Tuesday, September 17, 2013

I May Be Broken, But I Mean Well

Some days, my life is so difficult that I just want to cry. I don't mean that my life in general is difficult, because it's not. It's actually pretty damned amazing in most respects. What I mean is that living in my body day to day can make me so worn out mentally and physically, that I just want to fall asleep for a few years, just to feel normal for once.

I may not look too bad on the outside, but if you could see just how messed up I am inside, you would cringe and run in fear.

Not only do I have an awesome chronic disease that makes planning a meal a nightmare, but I have such debilitating anxiety problems that the only way to get by in social situation is to cling to the resident pet like it's the last life boat on the Titanic.

On a good day, I feel like a normal human being. I don't have any tummy issues, I can eat whatever I want, and I can mingle with people without spinning the ring on my finger so hard and fast that I bruise. On a bad day though, it's almost not even worth getting out of bed.

No matter what I eat, be it steamed rice and veggies, or a greasy cheeseburger, I get sick. And not just once, no...that would make being me too simple. I get sick every 10-45 minutes all day long. There are only so many times you can excuse yourself from class before you just have to pack up your stuff and not come back. Maybe if my Crohn's was a bit more predictable, this wouldn't be too much of an issue...but it's not.

I can eat something for years, and it's perfectly fine. Then one day, my guts will go NOPE, and that food is off the menu for a month, until I'm forced to try it to see if it's edible again. Generally, I can eat it again, until my guts have the same reaction, and we start the cycle all over again. Also, trying new food is pretty much out of the question. So not only does the food have a pretty good chance of making you sick all day, but it's the same thing you have eaten for years.

Tummy issues are semi-controllable, because I can plan and think ahead. The anxiety issues however, are so far beyond my control that it's painful sometimes.

I don't like crowds. I don't like parties. I don't like gatherings of more than 3 people generally. One a side note, whoever thought "small talk" was a good idea, need to be drawn and quartered, and his left over pieces fed to the fucking crows. Small talk is what gets me in trouble...generally it goes like this for me.
Stranger: So, this party is great. How do you know (person who the party is for)?

Me: *Momentary deer in the headlights look* Umm....they're friends with my friend. I'm just here for emotional support. You know, in case the zombie apocalypse starts while we're here and she has to shoot her friend in the face.

Stranger: *blank stare*

Me:  Some of us are ready, some of us are zombie h'orderves. It's the circle of life.

Stranger: So...these little bacon wraps are pretty nice.

Me: Did you know that a pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes, or more?

Stranger: *Just turns and walks away*

My brain goes "Say something! You look crazy just standing over here by yourself. SAY SOMETHING." It's at that point, that out of the anxiety of looking like a crazy person, I end up saying the first thing that comes to mind...which is almost always a horrible horrible idea...and generally ends up making me look like a crazy person. Then I have a near panic attack over that little snafu, and suddenly word vomit comes exploding from my mouth in an attempt to save face...which leads to an even worse situation in the end.

See, this is why I can't have nice things or make new friends.

Yes, this is my dog holding my hand. Pippin loves all his people.

So in the end, I tend to just sit out of the way, clamping my mouth shut, and playing with the family pet. Because the dog doesn't care that you're a damaged person, he just wants you to scratch his belly. The cat may judge you, but he's a cat, and I've come to terms with feline snootyness. An animal is more than happy to stay with you when the room seems so small you can't breathe. They're always willing to give you a nuzzle or a kiss on the cheek when you're crying in the bathroom because you just made a fool of yourself in front of someone you may never meet again.

Like I said...some days, I really hate being me.

Love and Lightning Bugs,
Post a Comment