I just want to have a minor pity party right now.
I missed a massage and another important thing because I had to be in the ER on Thursday for yet another catheter thing, though unrelated to lack of care here. Just bad luck, and my still less than desirable water drinking habits. It got stuck to me. So they had to sedate me and yank it, which hurt even through the sedation. I was there six hours to get a five-minute procedure, three in the hall.
And now, probably a result of this, I have a fever cold sweat combo thing. But the feverish part never registers high enough for them to actually do something really productive about it, except tell me I really shouldn't leave the building.
Max is pretty sick and/or tired again, but he doesn't really want me around very much anymore. In a way, this is a relief from the seemingly constant connection we had going on before, but it's still weird. Don't worry, it will probably change again by the time you read this.
Sigh. I know I should cut him some slack. He has returned to his apartment near me, which means less bodily help, because he couldn't deal with the lack of space and freedom in the foster home, even though his body felt better. And he is dealing with all the changes that brings very admirably. I love him always. It just hurts to be so lonely right now with such a good friend only three blocks away.
Another friend who is hooking up with someone, and always trying to set me up with someone, told me to stop chasing butterflies and stick to the caterpillars I can keep up with. I wanted to say, screw you, I am a butterfly! But of course I didn't. I love that friend as well, but the constant attempts to solve my problems grate on me sometimes. If I solve all of them, more will come anyway. That's just life. This person says I need to be more positive.
Damn it all, I'm trying! But I'm losing energy rapidly, and I'm not very good at treading water.
I'm tired of being here with no word from the other place. The ninth will be five months. I'm beginning to feel squeezed and panicky, about money and everything. Don't want to ask anyone for help, because I was told never to on the day I moved out.
But it isn't just the money. It's everything. I feel like I'm on the verge of a breakdown.
I got in trouble in the dining room the other day for screaming back at one of the constant screamers who knows exactly what she is doing for attention. Every day, I'm woken up by her bloodcurdling scream for her husband, whom she knows will arrive in an hour whether she screams or not, or a need for help in which she describes what she needs, most often my pants are wet, over and over again with increasing volume.
This isn't even my cursing next-door neighbor with Tourette's syndrome.
Still, now it's written in my chart somewhere about my change in behavior because I lost it while I was eating dinner after the day in the ER and screamed back. I would never usually do this.
What is wrong with me? And where is God?