Friday, November 06, 2009
And I'm back for a rant. . . . .
I just had my birthday.
Emmy is in the final stages of getting her Visa approved. She should (could) be here by Christmas.
I have a little money in the bank and nothing major going wrong requiring I spend it all.
All the tests that the doctors did on my last month came back perfectly normal. Aside from a severe Vitamin D deficency, I'm really healthy. My blood sugar and insulin levels were really amazing. My cholesteral and triglycerides were impressive. My doctor was really really pleased -- although it shot her theory that I was insulin resistant down in flames. (A healthy fat girl? Really? Is it possible?? Noooo!!)
I have a new anti-anxiety med that is working wonders for me.
I've reconnected with a couple college friends, so now my weekends are filled with Doing Things with People, instead of staying at home sleeping the days away.
It's really a good life, all told.
So why do I feel like crying?
Why do I feel like all I want to do is hide in my bed, away from people, away from the world and sleep? Just sleep. If I could get enough sleep, this feeling would stop.
I miss Emmy. It's this viceral, heart crushing thing. And she's sad and I can't help her. I can't make things better. I can't tell the people who are stressing her to back the fuck off. Stop thinking everything is about you and your oppression or your privelige or whatever the fuck we're calling it this week. Take your meds or go to church or have a drink or take a walk or play with fucking sock puppets, whatever it is you do that brings you back down to earth with the rest of us who are just fucking people, after all. Fucking people, just trying to get through all the hoops stupid fucking governments put in our way to keep us apart.
I look at this picture on my desk, here at work, that some stranger took of us in the airport at four in the morning just before Emmy had to leave. Again. And it hurts, because I want her here. Now. But if she can't be here, then I want her to be happy where she is and I know she's not and I know it gets worse every day and I can't do a damned thing and I just want to scream at all the people who are making life worse for her. Because dammit, leave her alone.
This powerlessness bleeds into everything. I can't DO anything. I can't write, I can't read, I can't DO anything. I can't even get myself to put a damned dvd on to watch. I can't fold the laundry I've got washed, I can't clean the house. I can barely sleep, even though it's all I want to do. I only feel good and decent when there's no one else around. When I don't have to deal with fucking people and their precious sense of self-importance.