Friday

I usually spend this day in a slow kind of fog. The end of the week brings this out of a lot of people who actually have jobs and such that take them Monday-Friday, but obviously I cannot claim the same. Fridays are  usually spent in a kind of bubble that contains Nim, books, my phone and DS, and myself. More often than not, I go for a walk, but only on Fridays. Again, weird, I know.

Today is somewhat darker, despite the weather and sunshine. I am still reeling from the news I got recently, about my friend once again trying to kill herself due to her mental illness. It sounds selfish, but it does have impact on me, despite not being the one who tried. I have known her for half my life. She was my first true friend after my first childhood one left the city. To see her in pain without any way to fix it kills me.

Honestly, this weekend is probably one spent with Terry at his apartment in pyjamas cuddling our cat Milo (and him, together or separate). Or, maybe I can find something to distract me outside of the city. A friend of mine mentioned an expo nearby…hmm…

I just wanted to post something today, so that everyone knows I am okay, and that I will keep everyone posted. :3

Voice of IBS-C, now live

Heya, guess what! I have another blog, one devoted to what I am sick with! And it happens to be here on WordPress!

The link is: http://ibschronicdepression.wordpress.com/2014/07/17/welcome-to-the-blog/

I now blog for WeAre1Voice, a community devoted to giving voices to women who are previously unheard or ignored. I was given the gracious opportunity to be this particular voice, and it is an honour I refuse to take lightly.

Thus, when I update there, I will be linking the posts here. That way, you can check it out if you want to, instead of being forced to read it when all you want to read is my whining and histrionics =P.

While you are there, please do not forget to support the fellow women who also are apart of the community!

Trying

I’m trying, so hard, to understand why my childhood friend is so sick. It’s bad enough that I’m sick, but her, too? And my family? I’m not even that old – 30 – and already I feel surrounded by sick people.

Those words are harsh. Maybe too harsh. But I try to be as honest as I know how, and that’s what I can figure.

I don’t have many friends. In fact, I can count the amount of friends I have on one hand and still have fingers to spare. People as a rule do not seem to enjoy having me around, at least not for too long, as I’m aware of a certain novelty affect I have, in which I’m interesting for a while but then when people get I’m just a sick loser, they drop me. It’s happened way too often and way too many times for it to be a coincidence.

So the friends I do manage to have, I try to keep. This usually means a great deal of compromising and biting my tongue, as I want to be as agreeable as possible in order to meet their needs, while being aware that mine will not be met in return. It’s how it goes with me, with very few and rare exceptions, and even they eventually fade, too.

I’m the ugly friend, everyone. I have known it since I was able to make them. As such, I’m only around on a needs-must basis, and usually not based on my needs. When you’re an ugly girl with pretty friends, it’s even harder. They tell you about how they attract people to them, how they get hit on, how they don’t know who to date, and your mind is filled with angry thoughts, because you don’t know what it’s like, and this friend either knows it and is being mean, or truly doesn’t know it and doesn’t even get that you have no idea what it’s like not to be ugly.

You are also not allowed to have your own problems or opinions, because then what use are you, since an ugly friend is only good for one thing, and that is to listen and soothe them. Even if you have similar problems, even if you feel like you want to kill yourself out of loneliness, you still have to pretend to be all fine and listen to the person you just want to make happy say the same thing, though all you do in your life is desperately give her a reason to live, but you are not enough, because you are just an ugly friend.

i truly am sorry for the tone of this post, but I feel it still matters to say these things. This is not a specific person, but rather a mash-up of every person who used and continues to use me. The sad thing is, the saddest of all, is that I am so lonely, I do not even care anymore.

Monday

Even those who cannot work (despite wishing to very much) still sometimes start their weeks on Monday. I know I do. In addition to taking care of my own chronic illness, I also care for my elderly dog, Nim (often seen in the rotating banner pictures above), who has liver, lung, heart, and intestinal issues. Which, if you think about it, is hardly a surprise, considering she’s a medium-sized dog and turned 13 in March, which is in the 90s for a dog of her size.

I do have a routine, though if you compare it to those of you who work, it’s rather sedated. I wake up am hour before I need to feed Nim her first meal of the day, which is at 9. I have to wake up an hour early, in order to allow for my meds to kick in as well as my usual pain to settle. When I wake up, pain is the first thing I notice – usually since it often wakes me before my alarm does. Despite the meds I take kicking in, the pain remains.

Luckily, caring for Nim is distracting and rewarding, so I don’t have to tarry long on my own issues. Nim’s meals are such that you could set your watch to, and there’s good reason for that, since any change can hurt her. That is the last thing I ever want, so you can imagine that no matter how foul I feel, I make time for Nim’s 9. (Though on bad days, if I can, I do ask for help, especially on days that leave me bedridden.)

Once the gentle dust that gets kicked up settles again, Nim and I both take the morning to rest and let our minds, meds, and bellies settle. It’s usually later in the day that I can finally manage to eat, since hunger varies despite my fatness. Nim’s a good dog, and never begs, though she does like to sit close to me to get a noseful, which I don’t mind.

Following that, it also varies. Often, I do have doctors to see, and sometimes the dust never settles until I’m gone from the house. And despite her age, unless properly babyproofed, Nim can and will find her long nose in trouble if left with things she shouldn’t eat.

I guess you can say when I leave the house, I’m anxious. In the past two years that I’ve been jobless, I’ve become accustomed to living very much like a hermit, one who lives indoors and only leaves if needs wants. And even though I really want to say that I’ve gotten better in the past two years, unfortunately I can’t claim it honestly, at least not 100%.

The problem with IBS-C is that it’s so unpredictable. Even if I eat the exact same menu every day, which definitely works for many people, it doesn’t seem to work for me. I seem to go through periods in which a certain food is fine for a while, but then it starts to get bad and I have to switch to something else. I suppose that’s where the moderation rule comes into effect, but again you can see how hard it can be to find a right method.

So yeah. I guess you could say that my life is rich with routine, but it also can be quite unpredictable because of my bowels. Even the most seemingly normal of days can have its forks in the road, and often, they usually also hurt, too.

At least I’m lucky enough to have a pup to love. Without her, I’d be too lonely to bear.

Thanks for reading =3!

This week

Honestly, other than making a few videos about what’s been going on, nothing new has really happened to me. I made a video about a young man in my province who suffered from IBS, got addicted to pain meds, and OD’ed as a result. It really scared me. I used to be on the same drug he was on for his pain. It also scared me because of how often I get ignored in the ER – if I even go.

I plan on eventually writing out the rambles and rants of each of my videos as time progresses, because I want to keep blogging at least once a week, even if it’s inconsequential. Tomorrow, I plan on spending the day transcribing my first few TaraRambles videos onto this website, with links to the original videos, so that if you want to watch, you can, but if you would rather read the content without having to listen to the “uh um uh so yeah basically.” =P

I mentioned I have three sisters. Two of them are older than my by 5 and 2 years, but oddly were born a day apart in birth order (my parents must have been on a schedule that they messed up later, when I was born in spring). This weekend, we all plan on eating together. Since we’re adults, it’s harder now to hang out together, since pretty much everyone but me can work. So it will be nice to see everyone again. I haven’t seen them since my mum’s birthday in May, which may seem like a short time to wait, but my sisters and I used to be very close, so consider that.

With one of my sisters, I’m still working hard to correct horrible decisions made when we were both younger that cost her a lot because of me. I really hope this lunch tomorrow will inch us closer to my making my full amends, finally. I just want to be friends with her again.

I guess I just don’t have a close relationship with any of my siblings. My stepbrother through no fault of his own I barely know, and my younger siblings grew up without me in their lives, so they’re accustomed to not having me there. I also think that the age gap is vast (10-12 years, thanks, Dad), and they don’t trust me too much. Plus, I’m a loser hermit with barely enough friends to count on one hand. They probably don’t want to be seen with me in public, let alone at my dad’s. Plus, they have a younger sibling, too, with the same age gap between them and her, so that’s also probably more time consuming than dealing with their loser third sister. I understand and am used to it. I just wish things could be better. Fates know I’ve tried and tried. But maybe, it’s too little and too late.

I think I’m done typing for now. Look forward to the transcribes in the next few days.

Thanks for reading =3

Hello

This is an obligatory beginning post, so allow me to begin with obligatory information.

As of today, I’m 30 years old, a bisexual woman, in a long-term relationship, and a person with a disability. I also read way too many books, write books that haven’t been published, and love watching awesome cartoons.

I’m a Canadian. I live with my mother, my elderly dog, Nim, and my mum’s cat Mab. I have three sisters, one brother, a step-brother, and another dog named Hayleigh that belongs to my dad and his wife, Mary. I’m (unfortunately) white, descended of settlers from Europe, and am fat, with brown hair and blue eyes that require glasses.

I’m loud. I laugh a lot. I also cry easily.

Hope that suffices for now.