Poo is on my head.

I don't have the photo credits for this image.
Maggie sent it to me ages ago... not quite sure why I held on to it!?

The universe seems to think that the top of my head is an awfully swell spot for a steaming, tightly coiled, juicy pile of poo lately and I'm growing really impatient.

Breathing should not be this hard.

Of all things that cause mental blockages when it comes to blogging, I sort of wish this was one of them. I wish I could go on with my life without having to sporadically submit readers to a pity party but sadly, it ain't so. I hate pity. There are only a few things that insult me more than being pitied and I really wish I could find another adjective to describe this post...

Today is a rough one. It started out just fine but as we started getting ready for the Terry Fox run, something in my head went click and the anxiety started to build up. Why? ... I say, why not? It seems like all the shit that's been going on sort of accumulated into this great bit heaping pile of stink and decided to take a crap on my day.

Every time I thought about going somewhere public, standing in a crowd and being reminded constantly of how many people die of cancer each year, my blood seemed to just freeze in my veins and the fear of being pitied ensued. I remember what it was like at the Relay for Life. I was able to hold back until we left and ignore the way I was treated (read: figuratively spit on) by other team mates. I didn't know how I was going to make do today. If I was going to be able to keep a straight face and not bite anyone's head off and/or run away.

Since the topic of participating in the Terry Fox event again this year came up, I've been unable to shake the thought that while we were walking in it last year my mom was slowly and unknowingly dying on her couch taking vitamins and trying to fight this "cold".

I've been able to push the thought to the back of my mind until fives minutes before we left. I put on a brave face and got in the car.

As we drove out, I started thinking of what it would be like once we got there. I didn't know who else was going to be there and already being on the edge of my very fragile brain, the thought of being treated in the same way I was at the Relay for Life (or any other function really) just pushed me to the limit. The limit of everything. Of missing my Mom. Of missing my family. Of how unfair life can be sometimes. Of how anxious I am to leave this place. Of how I miss my true friends. Of my anxiety disorder.

Needless to say, I asked Js to turn the car around and take me back home. The fact that he had to go was a sort of blessing in a way. It allowed me to close the door behind me, collapse in the doorway and stay there as long as I wanted. I was angry, my heart was torn out of my chest again and I longed for something I know I can never have. It hurt but it felt good to allow myself to feel that way. It felt like I needed to fall apart to be able to get back up again.

I felt horrible for not going. For bailing on Js' run like that at the last minute. I wish I could be there right now to support him. To show that I am proud of him. That she would be too. I just don't have the balls.

They say time heals all wounds. I think that's a lie. Time does not heal all wounds, damaged tissue never truly heals. Sometimes, you stub your toe and it hurts a bit but you keep going and then sometimes you want to sit on the floor, rock back and forth and hold your pinky toe in your hands and sob. Today is one of those days. I know it's only a molehill compared to all the things I will have to do without her but if I want to sit on the floor and sob, no one is going to tell me I can't god dammit.

Addicted or dependent?

I came across a blog post a few days ago that reminded me of a conversation I had with Js a while ago about internet addiction. My first reaction was "Guilty!" ... but then I got to thinking about what "addiction" really meant.

Source:
www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com

Who hasn't been a victim of sleepless Internet FOREVER night and days have gone by without even thinking of putting on a bra and going outside... by that definition, I think we could all say we're addicted. Yes? And I don't think that's fair. By that definition, I would be equally addicted to my cat, my dog, my couch, my bed, crochet, reading, working, sleeping and a bunch of other things that I wouldn't trade for the whole world. I know that an addiction doesn't have to be something that hinders your life or well being, it can be something positive too. I don't think I'm addicted to cats... or I'd have 20, my husband would leave me and I would throw the extra ones at the neighborhood kids. But I can't imagine my life without my Jacko... so what does it all mean?

I think the work I was looking for is "dependent". I have no issues admitting that I am totally dependent on the internet (and my cat for that matter... but that's a whole other post). Most the things I do daily either came into being because of or thanks to the internet.

This blog, for instance, I don't need it but I sure do enjoy it and love maintaining it and reading comments. Other websites I work on, I put them there and now I can't get rid of them like yesterday's garbage, they are my work and they help me and so many other people grow - at least I like to think so. I will lose track of time when I work on them because I love to. Yes, it sucks sometimes because Js would much rather I do dishes or the bank would much rather I pay bills... but... yeah I got no "but".

Source: Unknown. I found this image randomly on the
Internet (!!!) eons ago. I own nothing.

Like any other hobby or thing-used-to-stuff-a-boring-Sunday-morning, it has it's pros and cons. Mine just happen to be on the internet... I guess I could say I'm addicted to my projects which depend on a quality internet connection. There.

So now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make coffee so that I can crochet until my fingers bleed...