Yes, this is indeed my life

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am alive and this is me and my life is what it is. Oftentimes I'm struck by the urge to laugh out loud at how much of a joke my life has become. I'm tired of being in PAIN. I'm tired of being depressed. I'm tired of being hurt. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of being betrayed. I'm tired of being angry. I'm tired of being self-destructive. I'm tired of my steadily waning self-confidence. I'm tired of no one hearing my screams. I'm tired of repeatedly making bad decisions. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being afraid. And most of all I'm tired of being alive.

Yesterday I snapped at my mom for suggesting that I do another crazy diet/cleanse. I told her I was not going to talk with her about that anymore because I've tried a lot of them and none of them helped. But I said it with such vehemence that as soon as I was done snarling at her, I had the intense feeling that I had just punched my mom in the gut. And then came the guilt. The guilt that's always in the back of my throat, waiting to rise up and spew out of my mouth. But it never does. It refuses to. It lies in the pit of my stomach and I can never be rid of it. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I am not to blame...

Throughout this whole ordeal, my mother has been the one constant. Tirelessly searching for diets, cures, testimonies of other FM sufferers, cleanses, exercise programs, doctors, etc. I've tried them all. And all of them have failed. Don't think I'm being dramatic when I say that all of them failed. I mean it. Nothing in the past two years has made the slightest change in my condition. I'm still in as much pain or more pain as I was a year ago. I am more depressed. I am more emotionally unstable. I still haven't learned how to properly deal with the excruciating torture that has become my daily life.

Now I realize what I have to focus on: how to acclimate myself to the pain and find a way to accept the fact that this is how it will be for the rest of my life. There is no cure. There is no remission. There is no "getting better". For too long now I have let myself hold on to the last remnants of hope that the aforementioned "miracles" would happen. And every time yet another treatment failed, it was like another stab to an old wound.

I can't go on like this anymore. I have to keep fighting. I have to find a way to deal--hopefully I find something before I lose my mind completely.

To the few people who I hope read my blog: I need your support. I need. I need. I need.

P.S. Etta said it best when she sang "I Want a Sunday Kind of Love".

Update on my life

Today is one of my best friend's birthday. His name is Ruiz Alexander and he is 21. I love him and miss him so much and I wish he didn't live so far away in London. It was also Acacia's birthday last week and she's 20. Yay for birthdays! I can't believe I'm turning 23 in September...I feel so OLD.

I am planning on returning to UT in the fall. I've already registered for classes (two hard, two easy). I have to take 12 hours full-time so that I can get regular health insurance.

more later...

Who the F*&% cares about that cleanse??

I'm watching a lame re-run of SNL and wishing that I hadn't missed the episode with Shia LeBouff (his second episode). He's my latest celebrity crush. I love him. He is soo hot! And Jewish. I love Jewish boys. And he dated Rihanna so that means I would totally have a chance. Now all I have to do now is track him down and stalk him. Lol. I also really like Mark Ronson who is Brisith and Jewish and really talented and also likes Black girls. Haha. This post is basically just to say that I really like White dudes. The end.

X

Grace