Because I felt that enough crap wasn't happening in my life, I up and had to go to the ER yesterday. Same old stuff. Ulcers acting up big time, possible twist in the bowel again. I see my surgeon on Thursday. This routine is so familiar, I could do it with my eyes closed. Once again, I am on Percocets. PEACHY! I feel as though there is too much going wrong for my life to even be real now, as if some twisted writer is making it all up, poorly, as he writes. At what point does the main character get to heal or learn to deal with stress without ending up in the ER? I am soo frustrated with myself and my own inability to cope like a rational person. Instead, I get bleeding ulcers, go back on pain pills only to find myself right back where I started a few months later. I feel so utterly alone because so much is going on that I feel like I can't bother people with my issues because they are simply too out there. Buck up TROOPER BRANDI!! Right? How am I supposed to function when I am such a mess? Too much too soon too close together. I haven't even had the time to art journal this stuff so I lay it out here and send it out into the cosmos to be healed and dealt with and sent back to me as warm fuzzies, back rubs, and giggles.
Waiting to Exhale-