I know I wrote a deep an thoughtful post on Monday, and yesterday I wrote a gratefulness post about how lucky I was to have you guys... And I could kind of use that friendship right about now.
I was put on a new medication a week ago. And I thought everything was going swimmingly until about fifteen minutes ago, my time. What's ironic about this whole situation is that right before the shit hit the fan, I was literally, and I am using that term in its correct form, downstairs telling my parents how the new drug that I was taking was working, and that my headaches were going away. I didn't think anything of the weird hives on my face or my aching ribs or persistent feverish state or weird canker sores or my upset stomach or trembling hands or the persistent ringing in my ears or the dizziness or the fact that I WAS FREAKING HEARING THINGS THAT WERE NOT THERE. I think I was deluding myself. I mean, let's all be honest here. I was searching, begging, bargaining with the universe for a miracle. So when this medicine came along, I thought that I had finally found something that maybe, just maybe, would work for me.
I thought that the universe had finally come through on my bargains.
I thought that I had finally found my cure.
So now I am here, ugly crying in front of my laptop. Because if there is something I don't know how to do yet, it is cope with disappointment regarding my health. At this point, I should be at least a little used to this. I seem to be impervious to help, in all honesty. In the course of a year, I have been through 6 medications, 1 experimental treatment, acupuncture, Bowen massage, herbal essential oils, even freaking yoga. You don't know disappointment until you realize that you are reacting badly to a medication. If you think you have known disappointment, I'm sorry, but you're wrong. I don't care if I sound callous right now. This is my blog and I will do whatever I damn well please.
What really gets me is that I'm at the stage in my life where I should be worrying about teenager things. Like, 'oh, what if so-and-so likes me? What was on TV last night? OMG, I totally didn't study for that test, gonna fail now, lol.' I can't worry about those things. I have this huge, overarching thing to worry about. And my friends wonder why I look at them like they're mad when they look at me like I'm crazy when I say I don't like anyone. Normal teenage things are literally a non-issue to me. I don't have enough brain power to waste on them. And the reason is because I am worrying about if I will be able to get my homework done before the headache sets in, or worrying about the foods that I'm eating and how they react with my medication, or worrying about college because it is in two years, guys.
I'm going to be in college in two years. That is a very short amount of time. I need to find something that works to get rid of at least an iota of my headaches, because I'm going to be a poor college student. I am not going to be able to afford trips to the neurologist four times a year. And the fact that my problem might affect where I go to college and how I function as an adult in the future is daunting. My parents tell me not to worry about it, but how can I not? They are the ones telling me to look at colleges! They are the ones telling me to start thinking about my life!
I don't care if you guys skip over this, I really don't. Writing gets the emotions out. I am so done with this condition. I'm fucking done with switching medications at the speed of light. I'm fucking done with all of it. I'm 17. I should be worrying about something stupid. But I'm not. I'm worried about falling asleep tonight because breathing is hard right now. Fucking mexiletine. Or the crying. Could be from either, really.
If you read this whole thing, God bless ya, because you're a saint. I'm sorry to bore all of you with this. Writing this down helps me deal with this, you know?
There are some days where I look at all of humanity and all that is occurring in the universe, and I am extraordinarily glad to be a part of it. But for everyone of those days, there is also a day where I look into the daunting, black abyss of all of space and time and yell "WHY ME?" into the void. Because some days it is infinitely easier to feel sorry for yourself than it is to pick yourself up by the bootstraps, spit in the universe's face, and soldier on.
Today is one of those days.
But I still harbor the hope that tomorrow won't be.
Thank you for listening.
I leave you with, as always, love and kisses,