Going Out Strange
7.14.05
Title seemed appropos considering how I feel at this moment, and considering it's the song playing in the tray. Thanks Henry.
Not because of any socio-political views. Not because of any internal rage. Not for anything other than bad food and bad timing, I don't think. I've been feeling "acidic" for nigh on 6 weeks now. Nothing sits well. EVERYTHING looks good to eat. Nothing agrees to be eaten.
Maybe there are some comparisons to be made between the bile in my gut and the bile I store in my head to eventually put on paper, or screen, as it were. I don't know. I DO know that I can't afford to be sick. I can't afford to pay for it. I've got enough money for my kids to stay healthy. I don't need to be getting sick. I should be punished for getting there. For having no insurance at the moment. It's tough with only one provider of income in a family of 4 (6, if you count the cats).
Meanwhile, my guts are churning and have been since summer began. I feel like one of those zombie dudes in the Romero movies that my boy J Dubb digs. It's been a helluva ride the last 6 weeks. There's been good and bad - and very little in between. Including time to slow down. I've not had much time for myself - and when I DO get it, I wonder how I should be using it for work.
Stress? Yeah, it's there. I can't relax. And before you say anything, all the med's in the world can't remedy that. It's just the way I am. I keep waiting for the other steel capped boot to fall - because history shows me that it always does. It's that Balance in the Universe thing, I suppose. I can't sleep at night. I toss and turn as soon as my eyes shut. Very rarely do I get a solid 5.5 or more.
And believe me when I say it's catching up. There's no time to take vacation. I can't take time off of work. Not even a question. The food my body refuses to consume/allow, the sleep my body refuses to partake in. Threw up last night. It was painful. Violent. Sobering. Still have that sick feeling/queasiness riding along with me this morning. Constantly feeling like I should just keep a stick handy and let myself go every 3 hours or so, to stay "clean" inside. If I was into drugs, I could understand. But considering all I'm consuming (liquid wise) is water and haven't touched coffee in several days (good thing the coffee maker is broken...despite the bile in my stomach, I'd still be tempted to make a pot every morning...). Maybe I should start smoking. Drinking heavily. Shooting up. I don't know. Something to justify the way I've been feeling.
Nobody said life is easy. Nor do I want it to be. I just wish I could fight it without feeling like I'm going to spew something other than verbal diatribes at all times. Hard to be happy and slow down to count your blessings when you're afraid you may pass out from the pressure of doing anything other than sitting and working. And, as much of a hardass I attempt to be, I don't want seemingly everything that seemingly every person says to register with me as banal minutiae and/or "fighting words". But, this sickness brings the Zero Tolerance Factor up to 11 (a brief respite as I smile at myself for referencing Spinal Tap... okay... moment's passed.).
It won't be long now. "They're coming to get you, Barrrrbraaaaa"
Going out strange, indeed.
Title seemed appropos considering how I feel at this moment, and considering it's the song playing in the tray. Thanks Henry.
Not because of any socio-political views. Not because of any internal rage. Not for anything other than bad food and bad timing, I don't think. I've been feeling "acidic" for nigh on 6 weeks now. Nothing sits well. EVERYTHING looks good to eat. Nothing agrees to be eaten.
Maybe there are some comparisons to be made between the bile in my gut and the bile I store in my head to eventually put on paper, or screen, as it were. I don't know. I DO know that I can't afford to be sick. I can't afford to pay for it. I've got enough money for my kids to stay healthy. I don't need to be getting sick. I should be punished for getting there. For having no insurance at the moment. It's tough with only one provider of income in a family of 4 (6, if you count the cats).
Meanwhile, my guts are churning and have been since summer began. I feel like one of those zombie dudes in the Romero movies that my boy J Dubb digs. It's been a helluva ride the last 6 weeks. There's been good and bad - and very little in between. Including time to slow down. I've not had much time for myself - and when I DO get it, I wonder how I should be using it for work.
Stress? Yeah, it's there. I can't relax. And before you say anything, all the med's in the world can't remedy that. It's just the way I am. I keep waiting for the other steel capped boot to fall - because history shows me that it always does. It's that Balance in the Universe thing, I suppose. I can't sleep at night. I toss and turn as soon as my eyes shut. Very rarely do I get a solid 5.5 or more.
And believe me when I say it's catching up. There's no time to take vacation. I can't take time off of work. Not even a question. The food my body refuses to consume/allow, the sleep my body refuses to partake in. Threw up last night. It was painful. Violent. Sobering. Still have that sick feeling/queasiness riding along with me this morning. Constantly feeling like I should just keep a stick handy and let myself go every 3 hours or so, to stay "clean" inside. If I was into drugs, I could understand. But considering all I'm consuming (liquid wise) is water and haven't touched coffee in several days (good thing the coffee maker is broken...despite the bile in my stomach, I'd still be tempted to make a pot every morning...). Maybe I should start smoking. Drinking heavily. Shooting up. I don't know. Something to justify the way I've been feeling.
Nobody said life is easy. Nor do I want it to be. I just wish I could fight it without feeling like I'm going to spew something other than verbal diatribes at all times. Hard to be happy and slow down to count your blessings when you're afraid you may pass out from the pressure of doing anything other than sitting and working. And, as much of a hardass I attempt to be, I don't want seemingly everything that seemingly every person says to register with me as banal minutiae and/or "fighting words". But, this sickness brings the Zero Tolerance Factor up to 11 (a brief respite as I smile at myself for referencing Spinal Tap... okay... moment's passed.).
It won't be long now. "They're coming to get you, Barrrrbraaaaa"
Going out strange, indeed.
posted by swg11871 at 11:26 AM
1 Comments:
Dude...you can't eat anymore? Your stomach is fucked? Not sleeping?
If you won't go to a Doctor, you really ought to find a way to take at least a couple days off and decompress. Even one might do it. Play some video games with Timmay, watch Res Dogs and Pulp Fiction back to back...something.
And listen to your body. If it says your sick, it would know better than you would.
You know me well enough to know I'm not gonna throw the hippie shit at you about "Life isn't a battle...it's a song!"...but viewing it as a Fight isn't helping your acidity levels. Especially given how strong your Kung Fu is.
You're a smart guy, with a mind so sharp it could cut fire in half. Maybe it's time to reasess the job situation. Perhaps reorganizing your situation will help you make the circumstances your bitch, instead of the other way around.
Either way, you've got your bros...and one of the best families this side of, well, mine. (ahem) Lean on the ones you're supposed to lean on when you need an ear. And smile before I'm forced to email you Helen Reddy songs.
hops off soapbox with a whump)
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