Argh! Someone SHUT UP the voices in my head!!!

It's been a week. (or a month, year, maybe 25 years, but who's counting???) I can't stop thinking. I cannot stop stressing, which is causing some wicked migraines, horribly blurry vision, and my hands feel like someone peeled the skin off of them... so what do I do? I take two excedrin pm. I think I might get tired enough to sleep well for the night. Do you think it worked????





I'll give you a minute.




Hint, I took them at 10. My posting time should read, what, 11:48?




The bad part?!?! I should have drank a glass of wine. NOW I can't have a glass of wine to relax, because I'll probably die. My luck.

Side note, I really need someone to fix my dishwasher. I can't wash dishes by hand and the glove thing isn't working like I thought it would. It's very depressing to walk into an otherwise clean kitchen and see a sink full of dishes... and not be able to do anything about it. Actually, it's worse than depressing-it's DEFEATING. Which causes me to become more stressed, depressed, and defeated... which forces me to reevaluate myself and hahaha-the cycle starts all over. Round and round we go, I WANT OFF OF this ride!!!! I hate fuse box shorts, and I hate that I'm progressing so rapidly and can't stop it.


I will have a garden in heaven. I will not have dirty dishes. And I will feel amazing, like I've actually slept... ahhh, but the best part? No more doubts. No more self-hatred. Just working, perfect hands, and a working, perfect mind that can do everything I've always wanted to do.


Hmmmm. Nothing hurts worse than the realization that you've set out to do so much in your life, but will never fully succeed, or amount to much of anything. Ouch.

feel like giving up

So the story goes: I'm clinging to the remnants of me. The sheet of fabric is torn, ragged, and very worn. My fingernails are scratching, and pulling... tearing through the threadbare fabric, just to hold on-ever aware of the very empty nothingness beneathe my feet--when it happens. The fabric tears and I'm falling. Farther, and farther still; into a deep, black, vastness of space. Empty. I know I'm screaming, but there is no sound. I look into my hand and I see the shred of the garment that was me, and weep...


MS robs you of your dignity and strength. And then someone steps up to remind you that you aren't a real woman because you can't keep up.

So I keep on falling, and fading into the blackness. Succumb to the feeling of terror that is complete solitude. I have nothing left of me to hold on to; I just exist.

I hate this disease.

I'm wallowing in the muck and the mire that is MS today. My best friend, (Grandma!) is dying. I'm crying, and miserable that she will no longer be the first person I call. She knew everything before my mother. My pregnancies. My miscarriages. My idiot husband(s!). She prayed any time I screwed up, and her prayers were so strong and firm that I believed God was listening to her. My best friend will be leaving this planet to go on to another life, and I am feeling very alone.

Because I can't stop crying, my immune system is taking a huge whallop. To make matters worse, my (awesome, non-idiot) husband brought home a coffee for me from the gas station. (No, not Starbucks, but wow so sweet.) I drank it and got food poisoning. I've been so miserable sick. Fever, puking, shaking, very bad migraine with partial blindeness (woo-hoo!), and my left arm is losing the ability to function. As is the ring and pinky fingers on my right hand... ugh. And I STILL can't stop crying. Every time I think about how she will no longer be there when I call... :( I'd call and tell her that, but she's so gone.

My husband said: "I know you already know this. But you WILL get better. It just might be a while." Yes, I hope I will get over this fast. It will be a long time of mourning, and I probably will always weep when I think about what I've lost... but I had better not suffer through this exacerbation for very long. (That's right, threatening a non-existent enemy... that is my own body, hahaha. Maybe I've lost it, too. :P)

Someone get that trucks' license plate!

I've been hiding because of how tired I am. I wasn't exhausted, and actually had been at a level of activity that was at least 80% normal.

Now I am dealing with so much stress my body feels like I've been run over, Thor's hammer landed on me during it's fall, and I've been hit with a sleep spell all at the same. Save me, please.

I can't even get my thought process to slow down enough to acknowledge how dang tired I am, and then something else or someone else makes me incredibly angry and frustrated and I fall through the floors all over again.

In the mean time, I hate fake people. I hate liars. I hate people who have no integrity. I hate that I'm so sweet and just let people get away with.... well, lets just say I hate that I keep waking up at night after a dream of screaming my head off, beating the crap out of, certain people in my life. I have words for all of you; most of which entail something like: "You are a worthless, hypocritical piece of garbage." I hope karma kicks in soon, these people all should be pumping porta-pottys. I'll be ready with my camera and the one finger wave.

And I'm not going to say I'm perfect, but I certainly have never been fake. Or a liar. Or made promises I don't keep. (over and over and over and over and over again) Or bullied anyone.

A wormy issue.

I recently checked my email to discover an email from some random MS research group detailing results of an unofficial study involving the most disgusting, nasty, horrific, raunchy, itchy, handwashing-OCD-as-a-side-effect unbelievable procedure. It was (is) literally the most repelled I have ever been, and I've seen and heard some appalling things in my young life. (That is at least 1/3 over, by the way; but another story for another day!) Be prepared for what I am about to reveal to you! Maybe locate your nearest bottle of sanitizer, a nail brush, and probably a new pair of panties. Trust me. Go now, I'll wait!



*takes a swig of her mouthwash*




What, you ask, could have caused me to dive into my bathroom to scrub under my nails like a psychiatric patient with bleeding hands? Worms. Parasitic worms. Used as a treatment of sorts for Multiple Sclerosis. I'm squirming in my seat just thinking about it! People are swallowing "harmless" pills containing the eggs of what will be a parasitic intestinal infection of worms. The worst that could happen? I don't know, repelling your partner while having sex in the middle of night comes to mind. (Take a moment, let that visual settle. A lot of jokes to be made here, inappropriate, but you have to see the WHOLE picture and THEN gag.) Let's not forget the need to constantly have your hands down the BACK of your pants, and, of course; your hand will be unshakeable as the smell is unwashable. {{Lord, thank you for the pill that kills those, by the way.}}

The idea behind this treatment is that people in 3rd world countries are consistently fighting other infections off, which depresses the signals to the immune system to attack the myelin in the brain and spine. While the idea behind the treatment is genuinely a probable solution, there has to be another, more hygenic way to approach the concept!  I offer the opinion that perhaps these people are too busy trying to survive to focus on their numb hands or temporary blindness for the day. Just a thought. I know when I was busy trying to feed my family I wasn't so focused on the fact that my left side was immobile and unusable, and I live such a blessed life that I couldn't imagine the day-by-day stress. In fact, I would be willing to hedge a bet that alot of the people with MS die very young in life due to infections that their bodies COULDN'T fight off.

I should also mention that while this "study" appeared to provide results for a length of time (fewer lesions, less exacerbations, etc.); in the end some couldn't tolerate the "side effects" of having worms. I suddenly imagine dozens of people, hugging their knees and using the carpet to scratch their tookus! (a la Dog!) You, too!? No, THANK YOU!

So, to summarize: worm eggs swallowed, grow into anal havoc inducing adult worms that supposedly distract an already wound up immune system. And we're using a third world populations' lack of medical care as appropriate basis for a hypothisis to bring on a more sophisticated, privileged group of test subjects. They had better be paid a butt load of cash as reimbursement. Yes, pun definitely intended!

Life at it's finest.

Do you remember the days of planning trips to go do something you've been wanting to do? Long days of walking the century old streets of such-and-such town; while roaming through antique stores and museums? How about making a visit to a particular spot, a few hour drive but you'll have all day just to take pictures and ooh-ahhhh over the scenery?

I do.

I miss those days. To steal what I told my husband yesterday, I hate this. I hate, hate, hate this. I can't plan and it's killing me by slaughtering my spirit one little nuance at a time. He apologized and held my hand, and for that whole moment I felt a little better. I am alone in this, but it's very nice to have someone else behind the wheel of a car at least. <3

For today, I am going to ignore the mess we made this weekend before the kids all left, and I will make the cookies that he asked me to bake for Lodge tonight. I will play Scrabble and cry because I'm doing a much better job at remembering what letters/words I was going to use. I will not get angry that I am too tired to just do whatever spontaneous thing I want to do. (Because I am such an "In-the-Moment" type of person!) And, my husband? Would you like to drive me to all of my favorite antique shops go antiquing with me this weekend? Pretty please with a cherry on top? (Seriously, I'll cook whatever you want for a week I just need to do something that screams JESSICA lives in this body!.)

Hi, hello, where are my hands?

Did you know it was possible to induce a stupor relatively similar to THC without even ingesting anything other than O2? I didn't, either. Until last night! ENTER COMPLETE EXHAUSTION. I'm trying to pick up my house when suddenly in walks two bright yellow spots. And their friend, Mr. Red. Well, hi! Who are you, again? Thanking God my kids are already safely showered and tucked into their beds, (Hallelujah!) I realize the need to sit down.

Or is it stand up?

Or move around?

Or eat?!

Drink water?!!

Something in this cabinet has to take this edge off!!! *rifles through medicine cabinet*

I can feel my heart beat. No really, there it is. In my left ear. And the outer quadrant of my left thigh. Hehe. What a strange sensation... no wait, it's not my heart beat, it's ice! And it's moving down my leg? Ugh.

I find the Q-tips and begin the prodding of my ear, while somehow navigating myself around the house to ensure there really isn't some sort of noxious gas leak.

Nope, juuuuust me. Me and this damn disease.

Hmmmm. Cheyenne wakes up. And walks around the entire house before stopping in the living room with a very blank look in her eyes. "Cheyenne honey, what are you doing?" -me, "Going potty." -her; "NO NO NO NO go to YOUR bathroom, sit on a TOILET honey!" -me, "I am, mommy!" -her...

Somehow she wound up in the correct position on the correct porcelain throne to relieve herself before getting back in her bed, but this story made me laugh for far too long. But back to the events of last night:

I force feed myself lots of pretzels, which tasted far too salty. A chicken flat bread from Schwans. Far too bland. Chocolate chips. Why are they burning my throat?!!?!

I turn on some DVR episodes of Friends only to realize I really am not one of those people that finds this show funnier when out of her own mind, it's even more inane than Chandler's jokes. (haha.)

Try reading, nope-no concentration ability at. all. And those big spots don't help. Hands, wait a minute, I CAN'T FEEL MY HANDS! *enter panic*

I retrace my events as a hero enters to save the day *dadadaDA!* Woody laughs and says IMMEDIATELY "What did you take!? You look GONE!" Well, yes, I was, thank you very much, but all I had this entire evening was two excedrin and a coffee. Hours ago. I follow him around the house rattling off whatever has happened to me that evening, and tell him "I can't feel my hands", making us both giggle; before retiring to bed for humming myself to sleep.

My only explanation is that I must have been sleep walking somehow. Too much activity. I now have a spot on my thigh that feels like I froze an ice pack to it, a very sore back, and this evil need to cry but I refuse to let in. At least I have this entertaining story to share with my future self... or, sorry, past self; should we ever invent a time machine. My future self won't remember but should have the ability to locate this particular thread.