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Mon, Mar. 20th, 2017, 03:01 am
Dreams, Sickness, and (I think an important) Rant

I've been depressed for two months, which I finally nailed down the probably causes. It started with me switching to gummy vitamins, which did NOT cut it. (After three days of no vitamins, I get super depressed, and I took them till they were gone.) And then got a cold from AgtOrange, and went sporadic on my meds, and then I caught another cold from him, and stopped my meds altogether. Stopped talking or responding to good friends and girlfriend (she really needs a nickname soon along with a few other people here) and I just tailspinned out of control for a couple of months. Plus I may have some issues with either my hiatal hernia or gallbladder or something. Nausea, puking, and diarrhea. But then my diet hasn't been super great either, because I couldn't be bothered to care.

Day before yesterday I finally felt well, so I made weekend plans and had a great day Saturday. Toured a mosque for the first time and learned some incredible stuff, and really felt the presence of what I call the Great Aum (my version of God/Goddess/Om/The Great Consciousness, I Am) for just a moment. It's like a cross between "Om" and "I am" when God says "I Am in the Bible" and I feel his/her/its presence it's like this total sense of compassion and love and thereness of being. Yes, I admit I may be crazy as a loon, and religious folks say "how do you know it's God and not a devil and I'm like, if you feel it YOU KNOW. I've felt it also in some Catholic churches and Wiccan altars, though not generally in a Baptist place yet (I think it might be that they tend to use converted warehouses a bit too often which isn't very transcendent with all the salesman vibes already seeping into the place).

But then I had crazy nightmares all night. The first one I was related to President Trump, and Secret Service kept breaking into my house and rearranging all my stuff. The second we were trying to move but couldn't until the mountains of laundry were done, and I was watching a dog for a friend. I left the dog in the laundry room and ran upstairs because I needed some more quarters (my laundry room doesn't even take quarters) and in the five minutes I was gone someone stole the dog. So I was up and down all night, and that meant I slept all day. Plus my already sick and chronic fatigue tired. Napped but was up every hour, mostly to pee. Too sick to read or watch tv, which is BAD for me. Like, the worst kind of bad for those who know me.

Well, my system cleaned out and I managed to get to a friend's and toked. Haven't puked, though lately it makes my back hurt some and I get paranoid. (Also, the Lyft pulled a U-turn at the end that almost had me sick in the bushes when I got out.) Home again, I feel totally better except for that edgy feeling. No nausea, no diarrhea. And I should not have had that smoothie because puking day-glo green is just not the thing, even if it only tasted of bananas. (It was banana, soy, and organic green health stuff.) But even if the gallbladder is part of the problem I am NOT having it taken out. There are several non-surgical techniques, and from what I gather the diet for having one and not having one is mostly the same, so why take it out unless you are having some kind of nasty acute attack? It's like when they tested me for some of my reactive hypoglycemia, because all I was told was to change my diet to high-protein, which I could have done anyway without having to take a nasty test that put me almost in sugar shock/passing out. It could also be the hiatal hernia getting worse, so I started back up on my prilosec even though I don't remember that making a difference in the past and new studies show it isn't great for your heart (though that's more true of black men).

It occurs to me that I also started my medicine back from zero to the dose I was taking lately, instead of tapering up, and that's for ALL of them, which is probably not the best and brightest maneuver I could do. I should at least cut them in half, or look around for some of my old pills that are a smaller dose. And meat and dairy still don't sit well, so I'm watching that (may still be some kind of gallbladder thing). I've also heard one of my meds can make lactose intolerance INSANELY worse, so maybe this is totally it for dairy for me. No more ice cream or butter. How very sad.

I am also probably cycling, which tends to give me some of those same stomach ailments. So long as I can still eat a little bacon from time to time, I can live with my horrible diet (no dairy, little sulfites, little heavy meats or grease, no canola oil or yellow five, low processed sugar. But I was shocked at the doctor checkup -- I weighed 115 with steel toed books and clothes on, and my ideal weight I like is about 118 with clothes on, so I'm like at least 5 lbs underweight even for me.

Also, I did eat some smarties not so long ago and yellow #5 has made me puke blood before if I eat too much. And yes, I ate one or two yellow ones but they weren't VERY yellow. It was also not so smart. I was craving them something awful. I don't know why I have no impulse control when it comes to craving bad foods (or anything else). I keep talking to my shrink about it but he isn't being terribly helpful. They don't really have "impulse control drugs or therapies" that are terribly effective. Maybe I should develop one using Buddhist meditations and philosophies. Then I can put it on YouTube and get famous. If he wasn't also my pain doctor I would switch, but I still can't find a good pain doc at the pain clinic. Yes, I have problems with uppers at times (can you blame me, chronic fatigue and when I had that nasty big polyp it was the only thing which helped the awful, awful pain and once begun the trick is quitting after they surgically removed it, plus my PMDD/hormones really mess me up. For the longest time I was craving drugs like other crave chocolate, and while they say cravings go away in a few minutes, mine would last the three days while I PMS'd and that is a LONG time to withstand psychotic level PMS). But everyone in the know (addiction specialists) will tell you that uppers and downers are two different brain chemistry issues and not related AT ALL, I even took the genetic test and I'm not predisposed to pain pill addiction. I've been on them for years with no problems, but I still get the runaround. Which is what I get for trying to be totally honest about myself to my doctors. The one shrink pill that I thought I might have a problem with I even told a prior shrink about and refused to take it after a two week trial run. And yes, I'm less honest now because of all the flak I've gotten. But they still treat you like a leper. Especially now with the crackdown on the opiode addiction. I used to visit the ER for breakthrough pain/Percs when I really needed it, and now if I do (which is not often, it was usually like a three day supply maybe once every two or three months) I can't obtain them legally, which was never a problem before. I couldn't even get oragel/lidocaine for my dentist the other day when my latest filling went haywire. Like, ORAJEL FFS!!

Part of me wonders if a prescription for ritalin would cover up my cravings (I'm back on the NAC supplement too, which also effs up my stomach and only works a tiny bit, but I think the chances of me getting ritalin legally are like a a million to one). Which is just too bad. If you can get methadone and suboxone etc for downers, why not a mild upper to counter an upper craving...and I would probably only need it half the time, close to when I think I'm cycling. The Drug War just needs to end and people just need to have compassion. I've had one friend get shot and killed and two OD in the last 4 months or so (one lived, one died), which would never have happened if this so called war did not exist. And I have been visiting one who is trying to quit desperately and I'm so proud of him because he cut his use in half. He tried to go cold turkey but puked all over himself and his bed and his roommate had to clean him up since he couldn't really move. He finally gave up, but just that was enough to knock down his habit.

So then if you have chronic pain or even prior addiction issues (regardless if they have nothing to do with the pain pills you need) you HAVE to deal with scumbags and act like some kind of crazed addict to get what, like five or ten percocet? Even though I've never used them irresponsibly at all. So mostly I just muddle through in agony, because the kinds of people you have to go through for THAT are the worst of the worst. They assume as a woman they can make you do all sorts of things because your are desperate. I may be in horrifying pain, but I"m not that kind of person. I really feel for women on the street subjected to that. If normal people only knew how ladies like that were treated, like, they pay for the stuff, and then they still have to deal with things like groping, hitting on, guys trying to force sex on them even after that, and being shortchanged because they are female. Can you imaging paying for a drug you need (because for those people, they get real sick if they don't have it) and then having some guy try to force sex on you even though you legitimately paid him? What the fuck is wrong with people? Now, I know a lot of dealers who are just stuck in their lifestyle because they were stupid in their teens, and uneducated, and have bills to pay, but there are just as many who need to be locked up and have the keys thrown down a cesspit. Or maybe they need thrown down a cesspit and the keys destroyed.

That's right, not even all dealers are scum. I know what who takes care of his elderly, incapacitated mother who is like in her eighties, can't move and on dialysis. He cooks all her meals, bathes her, the works. All by himself. And pays for the house bills and everything. But he can't do that without an education, with a criminal record from his past, unless he sells drugs. No one will hire him, and certainly not in a job with a flexible schedule so he can always take care of his momma that pays enough. And I know more who are taking care of kids, like being the GOOD DADS that minority men generally seen as not being. I know addicts who work like demons to support their habits, they don't leech off the government and they aren't on welfare and maybe they aren't model citizens, but they only hurt themselves really. And yes, 7 of 10 are probably awful people who con and steal, but they all (the remaining 30) get treated like scum by normal people. If drugs were decriminalized (not necessarily legal) we could deal with the scum like scum, and the people with problems like the people with problems. People who want to quit would come forward when they were ready to do so, instead of being afraid to admit they have a problem.

I often want to wash my hands of these folks I meet, but then I learn of people dying, good people sometimes, and I just can't. It hurts too much. One of them OD'd because the drug mix was too strong...lately Fentanyl is getting mixed in with heroin because it's more powerful and it is killing people. She'd been using too much because she is having serious family issues, which I really feel for her even though she has been doing really awful shady things and I've been avoiding her even as I understand that right now, with her really hurting emotionally, she can't handle the emotional pain. What she needs is therapy, but people with problems don't want to go to doctors and say this because of how they are then treated forever after. She's actually been telling people she was in jail rather than admit she OD'd. It's that bad. The other one quit for awhile, and he slipped and went back to his normal dose when his body had no tolerance now. That's often the way people die. They quit, then they slip once and it's over. Dead.

I did actually have a little smoke here, but lately I don't like vaping it. I prefer micro-amounts in a one-hitter and I left mine at a friends recently and someone walked off with it. The vape is really just a bit much more me because you have to pack a whole bowl/tray. I need to raise the money to renew my medical card, because those strains from the dispensary don't give me so many side effects (I can get high CBD stuff which counters all the THC). I tried just straight oil but it didn't work. My friend gave me another one hitter which I had him clean out really well since I didn't want any residue from what he uses (ahem) so at least I can toke my ganja now. Even pencil thin joints are too much for me.

I actually listened to the gospel music one of the drivers was playing, and thanked him (and totally meant it) when he said he'd pray for me. At this point, I will take every bit of help I can. Seriously. Normally this pisses me off because I'm Buddhist and they take assumptions when they say that. I feel like one should say, "Would you like me to pray for you?" rather than "I will pray for you" because it shows more respect for my personal beliefs. The latter is more to make the person praying feel better about themselves because they can then be proactive, rather than making me for respected and listened to and cared for in a manner I appreciate. But today? Pray away. Do shamanic dances. Light incenses. Candles in church. Lay on of hands. Hail Jesus and Muhammad (peace and blessings or whatever you are supposed to say there) and Mary and whatever angels you prefer. I hate lighting incense late at night because of neighbors but I kind of want to do it anyway, just to show my empathy for all sick people anywhere. And I can't find my prayer paper instructions for others, just my metta, and I certainly don't want to run the printer at 0200 even though I slept all day and now I feel, if not perfect, at least much, much better.

And I AM restless, for whatever reason I can actually stay up for days just toking. No shit. If I take a blast every thirty minutes I can stay up for like two days. Because I can't sleep for thirty minutes after a puff. My chemistry is strangely bizarre. I keep saying I've developed some kind of crazy ADHD or something. It no longer makes me hungry and sleepy. I want to do dishes, but again, that would seriously disturb the neighbors. Maybe 0200 laundry? But that's to close to my nightmare of last night, lol, so maybe tomorrow if I get any rest.

And yes, I know this is all TMI, but if I can make even one normal person have compassion for all the people I have seen, and make them understand that not every person with an addiction is a bad person (yes, yes, LOTS of them are, I don't deny that in the slightest) and that even those who are sometimes have reasons (like this woman, she is so completely messed up emotionally that all she wants is to basically kill herself with drugs so she can't, simply can't, see her way to care about anyone or anything else right now). I know many people with family members who have had super bad experiences. I'm not saying be a doormat for a person who is treating you badly. But no one wakes up one morning and says, hey I want to be an addict/alcoholic/junkie! Something happens or is happening to make them that way, and after awhile they bury that shit so far down they don't even feel what is wrong anymore. They become, as my therapist said, "insectile inside".

I can't turn my back on these people completely. I've lost so many of them, to the streets and to drugs and also to disability and suicide. And even the worst of the worst have glimmers of humanity. Like that woman. She once picked my pocket (or tried, but she didn't get much), and then later, guilty, helped me clean a kitchen for a friend and offered me drugs when she didn't really have much, which for her was the most compassionate thing she could think of to do. You see these things and you know that somewhere, buried under all the pain and awful, they are still living, hurting people, who love and want to be loved so desperately.

My compassion is not a weakness, no matter how people see me. It takes a strong person to love like that, and love doesn't mean me being a doormat or giving them money. But it might be a roommate cleaning up puke. Or just being there and listening to them, even if you have to guard your wallet and zip up your pockets at the same time. Or feeding them and making sure they aren't sleeping on the streets, or dropping them off somewhere in the neighborhood where they can score. Or just calling them to make sure they are okay after a court date or a surgery (I have several friends whose use went haywire after they got cancer or were hospitalized for whatever reason.) People mistake love for weakness, but loving like that is some of the hardest work I've ever done, especially when someone has done me horribly. I forgave the friend who stole my wallet, especially since I learned he took some/most of the money and bought groceries for him and his family, after he'd screwed up and spent his own grocery money on drugs. But if I see him, I make sure I know where my wallet is AT ALL TIMES. I'm not a moron.

And I don't fault people who think druggies are the worst of all people, and dealers even worse, because I know they are hurting too. Loving yourself is just as important. I love you even if I don't know you. You are all beautiful people. I wish you all peace and prosperity and an end to suffering. Blessed be.