I had a dream recently in which I was in a rage. My father was there, though it didn’t look like him. There was fire everywhere; I was yelling at my father, breaking things, threatening him. He kept moving away, dodging my blows, telling me to stop, but it only infuriated me more.

My accusations took the form of: “Why ______? That’s right – because you’re DEAD!!!” and I would swing at him again.

Finally, I had him cornered. There was a wall of earth behind him, curved like the inside of a clam shell, and fire completely surrounding us both.

I … I can’t bring myself to write the final accusation I made, which took the form of a yes/no question.

“I’m sorry!” he pleaded.

I took it to be a ‘yes,’ my worst fears confirmed.
He tried to get away, but I blocked him.

“How could you?”
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he wept.

I … I don’t remember what came next. I think I woke from the dream. I couldn’t get back into it. And I don’t know how to respond. I’m just …

There’s a choice in that moment. I could be violent, which might be cathartic but would ultimately make me feel worse. And it would make me no better than him – the worst of him that is in me, honestly.

I could forgive him, treat him with compassion. But it just … I’m tired of forgiving, continuing to love someone after they’ve taken so much from me. It feels too soft, too incongruous with all this fire.

I could just walk away and let him burn. Or let him past me. But he’d still be out there somewhere and if this is anything like superhero comics he’ll come back as some kind of twisted villain. I need closure, dammit!

Priorities and Letting Go

I’m having some serious problems with my computer. I think I got a virus or other malware that made harmful changes to my operating system until it wouldn’t load correctly. Long story short, my efforts to repair it seem to have made a bigger mess. I’ve backed up all my essential files and made sure I can reinstall important programs (e.g. the software I use to compose music). The next step is to format my hard drives, then reinstall my operating system. If all goes well, it will be like having a new computer.

Which means I’ll lose all the progress I’d made in The Sims 3 and other favorite games. If I ever want to play The Sims 3 again, I’ll need to reinstall the base game, several expansions, tons of additional content, and all the updates. It will take several hours – possibly days. Then my only choice will be to start a new game, completely from scratch…

Or I can just walk away…

I’ll be honest, I’m not happy about this. I’d prefer for my computer to run smoothly and never have problems. But I’ve had this computer for over 5 years. The hardware is still in good shape, but the software is getting clunky. There are programs I don’t use (one of which interferes with The Sims 3 and other games), I’m way overdue to defragment my hard drive, and my files are kind of disorganized. I had a ton of bad, blurry, or redundant photos taking up space, things I meant to sort or delete and never did, a plethora of downloads… It’s a mess.

I actually welcome the opportunity to start anew, with a clean uncluttered desktop. I can be intentional regarding what I install, how I organize my files, etc. I can build a tool that will help me accomplish my dreams instead of distracting me from them (as much?).

With all the things I’ve been angry and anxious about lately, I’m grateful for my ability to be at peace with this. It’s not a medical, emotional, or financial crisis. I’m not going to lose important files I worked hard to create. And it’s provided some good opportunities. I spent the last few days going through old pictures and reminiscing. I watched the video from my wedding and found the sermon & vows to have even more meaning than they did on that day. I’ve learned a lot about how to protect oneself from malware and other unwanted software. I’ve started focusing more on my priorities: wellness, family, my career, making the world a better place.

Now I just need to let go. To trust that I have everything that’s important, I can live without (or replace) the files that will be erased, and I’m making the right decision for me based on what I know now. If I regret something later, I will have the resources and support I need to work through and release that regret. It’s okay, I’m okay. The world is so much more than this.

Transgender Tuesday: Closets

content note: brief description of thoughts about self-harm

I’ve been very depressed lately. I was woken up on Wednesday by the phone call informing me that my request for periodontal treatment had been denied. When I called to make my appeal, the person neutralized my language so “I’m in a lot of pain” became “I’m experiencing discomfort.” I felt powerless to advocate for myself because no matter what I said, she could submit whatever she wanted on my behalf and I wouldn’t even know. (I hadn’t yet received the letter with information on submitting a written appeal.)

I walked into Wakana’s office later that day, outwardly very calm and personable – but inwardly ready to explode! I told her I was scared of how calm I was and urged her to insert earplugs before allowing me to play on the drums and cymbal. We were all set up to make music when I told her I felt like cutting myself because I didn’t know how else to express the anger: I couldn’t kill people, I’d regret breaking things, but my skin would eventually heal. I said I wanted to get a tattoo in the spot I always think about cutting on; then I’d be less tempted to cut because I wouldn’t want to risk messing up the tattoo.

She said she thought I needed to make a statement… and that my feelings had little to do with my tooth. We talked for a while before I expressed my (ongoing) frustration with Mom: “I’m trying to have a healthy relationship with her, but she keeps hurting me! Even when I think things are going well between us, she always says or does something to hurt me. I can’t take it anymore!”

She told me, “Saying ‘can’t’ makes you a victim. Try saying ‘I won’t take it anymore.'” I tried it and felt a lot more powerful. Whether I allow my mother to continue abusing me is a choice; I can continue to take it – but I am unwilling to accept the consequences of that choice. I don’t want to take it anymore, so I won’t.

The consequences of that choice are terrifying. I was finally straightforward and honest with her on Sunday; I told her how I feel when she goes on and on talking about trivial matters, doesn’t listen to me, asks me to do random things for her she could do on her own, dumps all her emotional garbage on me, doesn’t respect my boundaries when I try to end a conversation. (Well, maybe I didn’t talk about all those things. I wanted to list my major complaints here.) She actually said, “So I’m a horrible person!” and hung up on me! Then she called me back. I told her she’s a wonderful person, and I want her to stop doing all this other crap so I can spend time with who she is beneath it all. She said I was wrong for telling her she could use the computer at the library (hers had just died), she didn’t raise me to be like that, if it were anybody else I’d be falling over myself to help them, etc. She said she thinks the problem is she’s doing too much for me and she’s going to cut me off and I have to pay rent and…

I realized why I let her do all this shit to me. If I don’t, I’m a horrible person and I might end up homeless, without a car, unable to afford therapy, etc. The next thing I knew, Fox had found a new computer for her online and I had agreed to accompany her when she went to the store to buy it. I spent the whole day with her yesterday, first getting the computer, then running a couple errands she hadn’t told me about before I was trapped in her car, then helping her set up the new computer. I was tired, cranky, and starving, but I remained pleasant and even got Fox to help after a long day at work. When it was time to go our separate ways, I said “I love you. Good night” and gave her a hug. She said “Good nigh… we need to…” I repeated “I love you, good night.” and left. Boundaries.

Today I woke up hating the world. I always wake up hating the world. I’m tired of waking up hating the world. I couldn’t get myself to go to the LGBTQIA+ groups on campus. I was too focused on my fight for something remotely resembling adequate healthcare. I’m too busy training to be my own lawyer to get dressed, drive places, talk to other human beings, eat, or do schoolwork.

I hate it. All of it. I want to see it burn.

The above has nothing to do with being transgender, except that I was misgendered in every single interaction that involved another person. (Except Fox and Banji.) At my piano midterm on Thursday I had 3 people using the wrong pronouns to talk what a pleasure I am to work with. (if only that had helped my grade!) Even in interactions that didn’t involve another person, I was asking an imaginary witness questions that required me to describe myself as the gender I was assigned at birth. It’s inescapable!

People don’t seem to see or hear me, they see and hear whatever fits with their expectations (or what’s convenient for them).

The Whole Truth of Coming Out of the Closet – In Comic Form explains the concept of closets quite well: “Closets are created by social and structural expectations about who we are supposed to be, and the consequences of defying that.” It shows how coming out is not a straightforward process, nor is it the same for everyone. There are some links after the comic that are great further reading.

It inspired me to draw this:

putting someone in the gender closet based on secondary sex characteristics - original artwork by Ziya

putting someone in the gender closet based on their appearance

The most important point – from my perspective at least – is that people don’t go into the closet. We don’t start out with everyone seeing and accepting us as we are, then decide (for whatever reason) that we’re going to hide some aspect(s) of our identity/identities. Other people build closets around us.

Sometimes even after we’ve come out to them.

Let It Go

One thing I’m really bad at is letting things go when they make me angry. I become kind of obsessed with them; I keep ruminating on the situation, what should have happened, why I’m right and the other person is wrong, etc. Occasionally I allow it to ruin my whole day.

Sometimes it’s a situation where Wakana would express concern if I weren’t getting angry – a situation that needs to be resolved. The anger gives me the energy and motivation to take action on it. I need to be assertive in making sure my needs are met – firm enough that the other person knows “I mean business,” but not verbally abusing them or otherwise ignoring their rights and needs. Sometimes I have difficulty finding the balance.

A prime example is trying to get treatment for my Endangered Molar, which has an infection that is causing “extensive” bone loss. (In other words, something is eating part of my skull.) My dental insurance took forever to approve a consultation with a periodontist, and then neglected to inform me of their decision. I had to call them – to learn it had been approved a month earlier!

I went for the consultation on January 22nd; the authorization for treatment was submitted on January 26th. The weeks went by… nothing.

I called multiple times and was told a variety of things, from “we never received that” to “it’s been escalated to a supervisor.” Last week I was told that no authorization for treatment had been received, but I had been approved to see the periodontist for a consultation. It had been escalated and approved just the day before.

I was furious! I told the person I was talking to that I had already been to the periodontist for a consultation and they should have an authorization for treatment. She insisted that what had been received was a referral for a consultation; the authorization was a different thing, the periodontist had to submit a “narrative,” etc. We kept saying the same things to each other over and over, with more and more frustration in our voices. I caught myself starting to slip into some inappropriate language; I knew that if the conversation continued it would likely result in me saying some very mean things. I made every effort to end the call as soon as possible without “hanging up on” the person.

I was fuming for the rest of the day. I couldn’t focus on anything else. I couldn’t enjoy being intimate with my husband. I just wanted to break things – including the skulls of the people responsible! It didn’t help that I was in a lot of pain from having Root Canal Molar extracted. I was miserable.

I thought I had to wait for the periodontist to come back from vacation to submit the “narrative,” so I decided to wait until Tuesday to pursue the matter further. After rehearsing my questions a million times – as though preparing to represent the plaintiff in court – I called my insurance. I learned that the “narrative” is basically the diagnosis and treatment plan. The person I spoke to seemed very reluctant to provide useful information … almost as though it was against company guidelines… I noticed we were starting to repeat ourselves, so I ended the conversation before I could become so angry I’d be stuck dwelling on it for the rest of the day.

On Wednesday I called the periodontist’s office and spoke to a very helpful individual who not only clarified what happened, but forwarded me the email that had been submitted to my dental insurance. To be honest, I could see how they might have misinterpreted it: the file name for the attachment was “referral,” the form filled out was a “referral” form, and the periodontist’s office also offers general dentistry. I had to (wait for it!) read the content of the form to see that treatment was being requested. I was also able to verify that it met the criteria I’d been given for a “narrative:” two specific treatments were requested by name and reference number, and it was clearly indicated that I have “extensive bone loss” in the area. I’m not sure there is any additional information that would be relevant, except that I HAVE BEEN IN PAIN FOR SEVEN MONTHS MAKE IT STOP!!!!

This time, when I called my dental insurance, I immediately asked to speak to someone who had the authority to make a decision regarding my treatment. I was connected to a supervisor – who couldn’t authorize treatment, but could work with me more efficiently. I was able to be specific regarding the treatment requested, state that the x-rays and periodontal chart were included, and explain that it was on a “referral” form but was a request to cover treatment. The supervisor offered to call the referrals department, find out what they had received, and call me back.

On Thursday I received a call saying that they have the information I’ve been trying to convince them they’ve had for weeks!!! and it will be sent to the claims department on Friday. The supervisor suggested waiting until Wednesday to follow up regarding the actual decision.

For now I’m calling that a success – because if I don’t I’ll go even more crazy.

… But sometimes it’s a situation that I don’t have any control over and it’s not really worth following up on. Most of the examples I can think of have to do with disagreeing with someone on the Internet.

I think I got myself blocked from someone’s Facebook post … or maybe the whole post got deleted? Someone else had made a comment (tangentially related to the original post) about “transgender men” being allowed in women’s locker rooms at Planet Fitness; I interpreted it to be derisive. I felt compelled to clarify that the person in the women’s locker room was a trans woman and that Planet Fitness had defended her right to use the locker room that corresponds with her gender, free from harassment. Perhaps some of the (additional) points I made could have been worded a bit better. Perhaps some of my anger came through. It’s kind of hard to say; I can maybe see how part of it could be misinterpreted…

(Or I could be making a big deal out of nothing.)

At first I was able to see the post and all the comments leading up to mine, but there was an “error loading” at the bottom of the page. Then the notifications I had received regarding the post disappeared. The post no longer appears in my feed or where it was originally posted. It’s as though it never existed… which might be for the better, but it’s annoying the hell out of me!

I could private message the original poster, apologize for anything that was offensive, and ask what happened… but I’m not sure it’s worth it. We’re acquaintances who haven’t been in the same physical space for years; I’ve never even met the other people who had commented.

I think the best thing to do is let it go and move on with my life. Focus on something else. Do something else. I wish I could switch off the thought patterns that keep fixating on this relatively insignificant experience – or delete them. The post doesn’t exist anymore, so why should my memory of it?

But if I had an easy time letting things go and switching my focus to something else, I wouldn’t have written this blog post. Anyone have any ideas? What works for you?

Fus Ro Dah!

Since writing my last post and looking at lists of Lamictal/lamotrigine side effects, I’ve done a 180 and no longer feel safe taking my medication. Part of me believes it is a lot easier than confronting the APN about her decision to have me stop taking the medication. Part of me believes that I’ve been experiencing side effects the whole time and either ignoring them, not attributing them to the medication, or acknowledging them and attributing them to the medication but refusing to admit that maybe this isn’t the right medication.

All of me is angry at the APN, psychopharmacology, and the entire “healthcare” system: all doctors, their administrative staff, and especially managed care… I want to say I know it’s irrational, but is it, really? My blood pressure and heart rate are high and that’s set off some alarms regarding the medication… but maybe it’s due to the stress of trying to access medical care!

There isn’t really anywhere for this anger and the accompanying destructive urges to go. The APN’s office is closed for the federal holiday, so the earliest I might be able to talk to her is tomorrow. I have too much other stuff on my plate to waste time trying to get in touch with someone as flaky and dismissive as her! Verbally abusing anyone else would be mean and probably backfire. Physical acts of aggression, homicide, arson, etc. would take way too much effort. I’d rather play Skyrim. Shouting at people in that game is a lot more satisfying, and if it isn’t enough I can set them on fire with my mind.

So I’m just fed up with the whole thing and the thought of swallowing their b.s. in the form lamotrigine dispersal tablets makes me sick! I checked, online sources state that stopping lamotrigine without slowly reducing the dose first is safe for people who are being treated for bipolar, but not epilepsy. (do NOT take this as medical advice! Always talk to your doctor before stopping a medication.) Given the alternatives, I’d rather say “fuck you!” to medication and harness the energy from my anger to be awesome at my classes than keep taking something that may be making me sick.

There is a quiet voice in the back of my head saying that maybe it’s the therapeutic effects of the medication that have helped me get to this point. But my symptoms haven’t been much better than before I started taking it, and I’m inclined to attribute the ups and downs to the circumstances of my life. I can’t tell if it’s making a difference, so maybe it’s not. “There’s no point in taking it just to take it.” Right?

I’ve been wasting too much time and energy on this. There are about a million better things I could be doing!

To Save a Tooth

“How can someone so young and healthy have such a serious problem with their teeth?”

The endodontist (root canal specialist) actually asked this during our meeting today – after I’d described a previous dentist’s theory that over a decade of grinding my teeth had caused a cavity to form inside one of my molars. It had decayed from the inside out, to the point where I almost needed a root canal when the cavity was finally detected about a year ago. I thought the dentist had fully treated it, but he only inserted a temporary filling. Some miscommunication must have occurred because I didn’t realize any follow-up was necessary.

Now my gum is badly swollen from an infection – that came back worse after I’d finished the antibiotics I was prescribed four weeks ago. It’s actually less painful now, but still very uncomfortable and so sensitive to the touch I can’t brush my teeth the way I’m used to. I feel like I have a bean wedged between my gum and cheek, and my jaw is sore on that side. I really miss being able to chew on both sides of my mouth and I’m concerned about how a gum infection might affect my overall health.

The endodontist couldn’t have performed the root canal with the infection there anyway, but he pointed out a bigger problem. I’m in danger of losing the molar next to the one that was supposed to receive the root canal because it’s the one that is infected. Ironically, the endangered molar is the one I thought needed treatment; my only complaint about Root Canal Molar is that it feels weird when I touch it with my tongue because it’s the very back tooth and I think half of it is missing. No pain; food gets stuck back there sometimes but I get it out with floss, everything’s fine. Apparently it might actually need a root canal or I could lose it, but again, there’s a much bigger problem.

My poor Endangered Molar has been assaulted by an alien civilization for at least the past two months! In addition to the gum infection, there is evidence of significant decay in the roots, possibly bone? I am in serious trouble. I really need to receive treatment for this … well, apparently, about a year ago.

The endodontist is not qualified to deal with gum infections, and is not authorized to give referrals to see a periodontist (gum doctor) or oral surgeon. So, I had to go back to my primary dentist in order to take further action. I was so furious, I was ready to start destroying things. When we got home I saw that Dog had gotten into my kitchen garbage! I was so angry, I told Mom to take him upstairs so I wouldn’t kill or seriously injure him. It was terrifying and so frustrating because I didn’t have a safe, socially acceptable way to express my rage!!!

I called my primary dentist and learned she could see me if I arrived within the hour. Within about 5 minutes Mom was driving me there; we arrived just in time. She asked questions and took X-rays and said I had two options: I could go to the periodontist to try and save the tooth, or I could go to an oral surgeon to get it pulled.

To be completely honest, if money weren’t an issue I’d say pull the fucking tooth, clean out the infection, and give me an implant. But implants aren’t covered by insurance and can cost up to $3,000. That’s more than my wedding dress! I could get the tooth pulled and not get an implant; this might be what I end up needing to do, anyway. I don’t think a bridge would be an option due to the location of the tooth; the dentist didn’t mention it as one.

But everyone – by which I mean the dentist and my mom – seems hung up on “but you’re so young!” and “it’s really better to keep your own teeth.” There’s a chance a periodontist might be able to help me, so it’s best to take that chance and get the tooth pulled only if it doesn’t work. I expressed some uncertainty, so the dentist made the decision for me: we’ll try the periodontist first. This way the dentist doesn’t have to feel guilty (I don’t think I’d feel any guilt, sorry Endangered Tooth – regret maybe if I then experience problems, but not guilt) and I might get to keep my tooth until I’m old enough for extraction and replacement to be okay. I’d need to wait for the antibiotics I’m now on (again) to kick in and (hopefully) clear the infection before I could go to an oral surgeon, anyway.

Here’s the really fun part. I could get an emergency referral to see an oral surgeon, but my insurance doesn’t see gum infections as requiring emergency treatment. They wouldn’t approve the emergency periodontist referral over the phone; there’s a chance they might not approve it at all! I have to wait 2 to 3 weeks before I’ll even know if I can see the periodontist, never mind then having to make an appointment! The infection will probably come back and/or get worse in that time, and who knows? Maybe more of my teeth will be in danger.

The receptionist said I have to wait for the referral to come in the mail, but if I had X Better Insurance she could write a referral and hand it to me.

Pissed doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You might be wondering, what do dental issues have to do with mental health? Well, let’s see.

1) “How can someone so young and healthy have such serious problems with their teeth?” Well, sir, perhaps my health issues are not readily apparent because they aren’t medical, in the sense most people are used to. I have mental health issues, which impact physical health as well. In my case, they clearly affect my dental health! For example, I GRIND MY TEETH!!! due to chronic tension from repressed anger and overwhelming anxiety.

2) I’m not working because my mental health issues are severe enough that I can’t even follow through with a job interview. I don’t trust my mood to be stable enough for me to show up for work consistently, and my anxiety levels to be low enough to function once I get there – assuming I can manage to be on time. Wakana would say I’m being too hard on myself and I should focus on the times I have been punctual and consistent. But I don’t have to do it every day; when I have had to do it every day I’ve struggled. I need help getting to the point where I can try it again.

Anyways, not working means no income means I can’t afford better insurance or to just pull the fucking tooth already and give me a titanium implant.

3) It’s really hard to do things like stand up for yourself to make sure you get the best possible care, drag yourself to the dentist and wait Spock knows how long hoping you’ll get seen as an emergency patient even though you don’t have an appointment, and deal with the stress of going to the fucking mall to see an overbooked dentist with staff that is probably overworked and underpaid and sick of being the person patients get angry at when their insurance is being sadistic. It’s even harder when you have mental health issues (especially being more attuned to other people’s needs and emotional states than your own). I would rather pull my own tooth without so much as taking ibuprofen first, than deal with the headache that is going to the dentist!

Hmm…

4) When you have a mental illness(es), you start to rely more on other people’s judgment; sometimes you trust it more than your own. “Maybe I thought he was being a jerk because I was wearing depression goggles.” “Maybe the chest pain I’m experiencing is from anxiety.” “Maybe I’m having these symptoms because I read that they’re potential side effects of the medication I’m taking.”

I know I can’t always trust my thoughts and feelings because they tell me things like “nobody loves me” and “I can’t do anything useful” and much, much worse. I rely on people reminding me that those things aren’t true and encouraging me to think about situations from other, more creative, and generally more positive perspectives.

So if you’re in a situation like I was last week, when the hygienist who did my cleaning said the pain I was experiencing from my infection was “normal,” it can seem a bit “crazy” and “excessive” to insist on seeing the dentist anyway. They were busy, I was feeling overwhelmed, I didn’t want to be on antibiotics again anyway, and I’d just been told that my problem was no big deal. So I left. If I’d stood my ground (or had someone advocate for me like my mom did today) my gum might not be swollen. I don’t know if my teeth would be in any better shape, but at least I could brush them!

5) Extremely frustrating situations like this can trigger all sorts of painful, unhealthy, and outright dangerous thoughts. It’s even worse when the people who are supposed to help me when I have a serious health concern like this either don’t seem to care or care but can’t do anything because of bureaucratic red tape. I’m fortunate that I’m in a place where my primary concern is protecting my health, and that my mom was able to support me in expressing my anger – probably because she was angry and worried too.

I’m furious to think that I can’t get the help I need because of a rule my insurance company made up, that someone who has never even met me has to review my information, make a decision with more concern about the company’s bottom line than my health, and use fucking snail mail to communicate with me. It can be all to easy to internalize that ruthless capitalistic complete and utter lack of compassion, to absorb the message that I am worth less than someone who can afford to pay for a better insurance plan (or worse, unworthy of medical interventions, period). So for now I’m clinging to my anger like a life preserver; the hard part is doing that while keeping it directed away from myself.

Pretend that You’re Feeling a Little More Pain

On Friday I was awarded 5 out of 5 possible experience points (XP) for role-playing my (tabletop RPG) character exceptionally well. My secret: I genuinely felt the wide range of emotions she exhibited, from pride to concern to fear to sadness to disgust at the vengeance another player character (PC) took out on an adversary (non-player character / NPC). I was raw and in the moment, responding to what was going on around me with relative ease… while still thinking about how my character would react, what she would say, etc. It was … brilliant, really. I had a lot of other exceptional, long-time role players to, well, play off of. We just get into character and go, and a story weaves itself, and the next thing I know I’m both exhausted and elated having experienced and expressed just about every emotion possible for the past several hours and having accomplished something meaningful… albeit in our collective imagination.

Then Fox and I took the weekend as down-time, which for me meant playing The Sims 3. All weekend. I’m happy with how my game is going and I’m getting to explore aspects of the game that I haven’t already beaten to death, so it’s a mostly neutral-to-positive experience. Except that my body hates sitting at the computer all day and the sims do really stupid, frustrating things and I’m starved for meaningful interpersonal interaction. I know I could pick up the phone or leave my house or actually interact with Fox (not that we haven’t been interacting at all, it’s just been sporadic and not satisfying enough to counteract the effects of staring at a computer screen all day) … but I’m kind of having some issues with intimacy. I don’t want to talk about how I feel or what’s going on in our relationship or my goals and dreams. He gets so angry whenever anything related to his career goals or working comes up that I find it best to just avoid the topic and let him exist on my the couch consuming the internet nonstop. And he comments on so many things that I do – how I’m sitting, whether/what I’m eating, what I’m reading or (heaven forbid) laughing at online, how I’m responding to the sims – that I don’t feel comfortable expressing myself musically or decluttering or otherwise doing anything really noticeable (heaven forbid I should distract him from his videos). If I were to actually go out and do something, then I’d have to explain myself and he might want to come with me so I’d have to wait for him and so on… *sigh* It’s a mess. To make things even worse, I’ll be sexually aroused sometimes but grossed out by the thought of any sexual acts (e.g. “what goes where? eww!” and don’t even get me started on bodily fluids) so I just try not to get too expressive when we are affectionate. Between that and the pain I’m having in my bad tooth and jaw and sinuses and ear (possibly affecting my hearing) I just want to leave my body for a while… but if I could, I might never come back…

Anyways I was playing The Sims 3 yesterday and, out of nowhere, “Cry” by Faith Hill starts playing on repeat in my head. Here’s a link to the official music video on YouTube.

If I had just one tear running down your cheek
Maybe I could cope maybe I’d get some sleep
If I had just one moment at your expense
Maybe all my misery would be well spent

Could you cry a little
Lie just a little
Pretend that you’re feeling a little more pain
I gave now I ‘m wanting
Something in return
So cry just a little for me

If your love could be caged, honey I would hold the key
And conceal it underneath the pile of lies you handed me
And you’d hunt those lies
They’d be all you’d ever find
And that’d be all you’d have to know
For me to be fine

Yeah…. And you’d cry a little
Die just a little
and baby I would feel just a little less pain
I gave now I’m wanting
Something in return
So cry just a little for me

Give it up baby
I hear you’re doin’ fine
Nothins gonna save me
I can see it it your eyes
Some kind of heartache
Darlin give it a try
I dont want pity
I just want what is mine

quoted from AZLyrics.com

At the time I interpreted it to be my frustration at not being able to feel anything while I was playing The Sims 3. The game has a nice numbing effect and I tend to turn to it when I’m feeling miserable. I’m still not ready to cope with the death of Robin Williams and I miss my pet rat Trouble terribly and I’m questioning whether it’s wise to even try to finish my masters’ degree in part because I had to get an extension for my summer class and I still have an F on my transcript from the last time I did that and my finances are in shambles and I can’t keep my act together long enough to take a course never mind finding and keeping a job and I have to wait two weeks before I’ll even be prescribed Lamictal and I don’t know if it will work and the infection in my gum will probably spread to my brain by the time I can have a dentist look at it and I don’t even know what I need to do to plan for my wedding in less than two months that my aunt might not be able to make because of her boyfriend’s health issues and I just want to take a walk outside and enjoy the nice weather and maybe enjoy some of the nice “yay it’s autumn!” activities friends post about on Facebook but I can’t pull myself away from the computer and FOX DOESN’T SEEM TO CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT AT ALL!!! All he cares about are the games he’s playing and what he’s going to eat and maybe the occasional hug, when he wants one. Well, based on our interactions as of late.

It would be nice if he would show that he cared about something like “hey, it’s gorgeous out, let’s go for a walk” or “hey, let’s finally straighten up like we’ve been saying we need to for over a year now” or “you said the mum needs to be watered, would you like me to do that?” or even “I love you, let me massage your feet while reciting Klingon love poetry” … yeah, that’s not going to happen. Once upon a time he was actually romantic but now… Now I don’t really want him to be romantic. The sexiest thing he could do now is get the fuck off the computer and go out with his scores of 7 on the Burns depression checklist since he started taking Wellbutrin / bupropion and earn a steady income we could use to get out of credit card debt (that’s affecting my credit rating, not his) and feed ourselves.

I spent most of the day yesterday numbly playing The Sims 3 and directing Faith Hill’s scathing lyrics at myself instead of him, followed by a couple of hours literally roaring at him. I mean I looked at him and yelled “Roar!” and he yelled back (playfully) “Rawr!” and I got even angrier and yelled “Roar!” and eventually he started sounding angry when he replied, “Roar!” and it felt good to get the anger out but it didn’t do anything useful. And then I went to bed and poured my heart out in my paper journal and had weird dreams about floods and dancing and actually feeling the wind on my skin for once which was awesome. Today I woke cold and alone and in pain. He got angry at me as I was looking online to find him someone else to call because the person he’s supposed to contact about his internship is never in his office and doesn’t have office hours posted and doesn’t reply to emails. He yelled at me and didn’t thank me and didn’t apologize. And he’s content to know this post is “going well.” I can’t live like this.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m better at feeling the emotions of fictional characters than my own emotions because the latter are overwhelming and largely in response to factors I feel I have no control over. I’m angry at Fox for not seeming to care and not taking initiative. He apologized after reading this post and we talked a little, but we’re still having trouble connecting. It’s so tempting to just disappear.