Cry Baby. Cry.


Today I fell. First time in several weeks. Was sans walker and concentrating on every step. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

Is this my fucking life? Already on disability and now the Transverse Myelitis?
Living with mom? Waiting to find low income housing with the crack heads and welfare mothers? Trying to find a decent pain management doc, psychiatrist and neurologist?
Mom insisting I stay in rural redneck northern California…. forever.
Tonight she told me she was tired of the constant crying.
Bit my tongue.
I’m tired of the constant living but I get up every day and don’t call a cab to the gun store while screaming ‘Step on it!’. Not a day passes that I don’t want to blow my brains out to end this surreal nightmare.

Did pretty well the first month or so out of the hospital. Did pretty well the three months in the hospital.
Until it sunk in that this was it. The constant wrenching back, leg, ankle and hand pain is forever. The electrical shocks, though much better thanks to the Lyrica, are forever. Being unable to walk in stilettos is forever. Never standing on my tip toes is forever. Never being with a man again is forever.

Two days ago I found an amazing ski program for the disabled (and hopefully disgruntled) at Squaw Valley. It’s a two hour drive each way. It would be possible to race again and the cost is reasonable. Even found a grant available for those with spinal cord injuries (TM qualifies) who are serious about getting into or continuing a specific winter sport.
Mom will not drive me three times a week and I will not even ask. I can no longer drive. Have no idea if that is forever.

Sent mom a link to the following piece instead of speaking. Wish I had written it. Goddamn this writer hit the nail on the head. It isn’t often that I say that. Not because I don’t respect a lot of other’s writer’s work, but because this is something that has affected me for 30 years.. and it will forever.

The 10 Stupidest Things You Can Say To A Depressed Person

I can damn well cry if I want to.
You’d cry too
If it happened to you

Currently Listening To:
by Damien Rice
2003 Vector Recordings

~miss b


The DMV should pay for today’s meds

People are strange. People are idiots. Some people are suck-the-life-right-outta-you Strange Idiots

Perhaps it was the hour or so at the DMV that has helped
extract the soul from me.

Will the Reno DMV Bouncer let YOU pass through the Gates of Hell?

Will the Reno DMV Bouncer let YOU pass through the Gates of Hell?

Or, the 20 minutes waiting at the bank for their single customer service rep to close out my debit card.

Mercifully there was no activity on the debit card since it’s disappearance on Saturday night.

Of course, if the poor bastard who has my wallet had tried to order their gourmet repast at Sizzler they’d have gone hungry. Kinda sorry there wasn’t any attempt at activity. Would have made my black little heart smile for the first time in three days.

Just spent 30 minutes online trying to figure out how to get out of my Sprint contract. I’m the only person I know with Sprint, their service is awful, and to buy out my contract is $200.00

Every person I know is on ATT/Cingular. There was no AT&T in northern Michigan.

Since the phone is lost/stolen/gone I am trying to figure a way out of the early termination fee and just divest from those imbeciles.

Read some fine ideas online in various forums but none of them are fool-proof and most seem out-dated or just dumb
“well be nice to the rep and they’ll surely help you!”
Yeah that’s always worked with a phone company in the past hasn’t it.

Have to go to Welfare tomorrow and apply for a new Medicaid card and cancel my daughter’s insurance and food stamps since she is now in California.

Irony du Jour!

I can’t buy a new wallet to replace the lost one because all of my money was in the missing one

Went to another AA noon meeting today. Free cognitive therapy but you do get what you pay for.
If I have to listen to another fucking flock of sheep (and I raaaaan so far away…. wrong flock ) recite The Lord’s Prayer at the end of a meeting I will surely force a drink down their collective throats.
Serenity thy name is Rachael.

I’m hurting badly this week in terms of mental anguish, guilt and just being alive, so sincere apologies for the angst.
You’ll get over it when I do.

If only I were a sociopath instead of simply neurotic, clinically depressed and oft-times just a tiny bit funereal.

I don’t like pain.
I don’t like to cause pain.
I never want to cause hurt.
I don’t want to feel hurt.
Right now I don’t want to feel.

Currently listening:The Singles 81-85
By: Depeche Mode
Release date: 19 January, 1999

~miss b

Creepy House

Creepy House of Reno

This morning I went for my walk. First off it was damned cold. Trust me it takes a lot of calories to get my ass out at 7:30 in the morning to exercise. I mean a lot of calories the night before.

Guilt and fries with roast beef gravy. The great motivator of fat asses everywhere.

There are a couple of different routes that I’ll traverse depending on my mood. Today I skipped the Creepy House perambulation. And I’m less of a person for it –sniff-.

Lemme tell you about Creepy House in Old Southwest Reno

First you should know that this home is in the middle of a neighborhood filled with upper middle class residences. Many of them have similar floor plans and all have landscaped yards.

You’re walking along bopping to Steely Dan on your iPod and BAM. There it is. You stop and stare the first time and quickly keep moving down the street.

It could be the desiccated lawn, or the metal shutters covering every window, Maybe it’s the pile of phone books or the tags hanging off the front door that you’ve seen for at least six months.

No my friends it has not been abandoned because there are two vehicles in the driveway. One is a white truck. One day I noticed that the tags had expired in 2006. Kept on walking that day for sure.

The next walk you spy the tags on the blue car parked in the driveway next to the truck. They expired in 2003.

Oooooh scary boys and girls.

Two days ago I walked by and saw a pink notice taped by the front door of Creepy House. My mind wouldn’t let it go.

Did someone finally go in and find a crime scene? From 2006? How about a meth lab? Maybe a deranged family of serial killers operating in secret, living in my neighborhood but practicing their cruel satanic crimes in Sparks.

The last one might be a stretch given the fact that the vehicles HAVE NEVER BEEN MOVED ONE INCH. Ever.

It was overcast and cold two days ago. I looked both ways down the street and made my way across the dead lawn, almost tripping over an obviously useless garden hose.

In order to get close enough to the front door I’d have to negotiate the walkway. The lawn seemed safer. Slowly I turned and was confronted by an old hag wielding a rusted butcher knife. Okay not really.

I did get pretty close to the house though. Not close enough to read the notice –and hey there were two of them taped up there.

Nope. Got spooked. It’s a creepy house after all. This blog isn’t titled Happy Shiny Fun House is it?

Today I didn’t walk past Creepy house and missed out on my morning musings about it’s secrets, contents and rusty butcher knives.

I’m sharing this with you all though. Beware Creepy House or you too will be compelled to write about it. It gives me the shivers. Or, it could be that it’s 32 fucking degrees right now. Either way…..

Whatever walks in Creepy House walks alone.

Currently listening:  
Creepy Doll
by: Jonathan Coulton
release date: 07-21-2006

~Miss B

Manic Panic

Manic Episode

Someday this will be funny. It kind of was right after I attempted it.

Clearly the new mix of meds isn’t working and I entered another bout of severe  mixed state mania. This particular circle of bi-polar hell is now referred to as Dysphoric mania.
I could tell it was starting because of an inability to sleep for about a week and the agitation I felt. Plus, I heard cats.

Have never had an episode of euphoric mania. We always want what we can’t have eh? Think of the housework that would get done around here. But no, it’s always been dysphoric for me and it’s getting more severe over the past year and a half. This is the second time in 4 months. What the hell.

My answer? Take an ice pick to a plastic safety razor and try to get the blade out. It was a damned cold day so I thought slitting my wrists in a hot bath would be the way to accomplish my task.

Am pretty sure I looked like a moron at the kitchen sink attempting to dissect the damned razor on the cutting board. I almost cut myself. The irony. It burns.
In the end all I accomplished was bending the shit out of the blade. I burst into hysterical giggles and gave up.

Was suicidal, severely, and had no one to talk with. My closest friend has become embroiled with their own personal demons. Even if my confidant didn’t understand the my illness, I could freely speak what I felt. I feel very alone now.

My shrink’s practice is a medicare, and probably medicaid, mill. He’s virtually worthless but there are very few shrinks left who are not private pay.

At this point I called a musician friend who has been hospitalized for his bi-polar condition and also attempted suicide. He recommended that I check into West Hills Hospital. I called them. They couldn’t tell me if my insurance would be accepted because the billing office was closed for the day. Told them I’d be in on Monday morning at 8:00 a.m.

This all occurred on Saturday night.

On Sunday I went for a walk and tried to get some kind of focus. Kind of hard since I’d fallen the night before and now have a huge black bruise on my chin and a cut on the forehead which probably needs stitches. Being a klutz sucks when you have a step with wrought iron railings. Especially when you fall into them with your fucking head.

Anyway, Monday morning came and my bag was packed. Felt some better and decided that being locked up for observation would in reality suck. Don’t ask me how I know this.

Instead I asked my bi-polar friend for his shrink’s name, and also found out from West Hills that this same doctor is on staff there.

Have an appointment for April 5th which is a month out.
Am on the cancellation list though which is good. Have to see the lame-ass psychiatrist next week otherwise I’ll be out of the lame-ass meds.

Took another walk today and lifted some free-weights yesterday.
Here is something that I’ve never seen mentioned by anyone else
Exercise can help if the depression lifts long enough to accomplish it. I’ve noticed that sometimes exercise makes things worse. The endorphins increase the feelings of sadness, hopelessness and that underlying desire to die.

Feel as though the crisis has been averted, albeit temporarily.

Keep your chin up and your Geodon down.

Currently listening:
Happy Alone
Album: Mentor Tormentor
Artist: Earlimart

~miss b