One Eyed Becca

One Eyed Becca

8-29-11

                The last couple of weeks or so, I have been wearing an eye patch to limit the amount of garbage that I have been receiving from my left eye, which the ophthalmologist seems to think has a damaged and healing optic nerve. I have been having to learn how to do everything with one eye, which has been causing me headaches that help contribute to the general nausea that  has been plaguing me for weeks now. My quality of life has been steadily eroding in a way that only consistent pain and misery can do it. My doctor prescribed me an anti-nausea medication which helps quite a bit, but the trade-off is that I will have to deal with the side effects of a fuzzy head, sleepiness, and paranoia (why is it that every medication I take lately seems to make me twitchy and paranoid? It might just be amplifying something that is already there.). In general, life has been not fun for me.

                So, I end up having an almost constant cycle of, “Woe is Me” going through my head, which does nothing but piss me off. Whenever I get angry at myself, I find it hard for it not to spill out at everything and everyone around me. This general anger makes it hard for me to function overall, and the quality of life continues to erode.

                I find myself getting self-conscious about the eye patch. On the one hand, I have been told (and I have to admit it to myself) that I totally rock the patch. It looks fairly good on me, for being an eye patch, and it helps me stand out in a crowd in a rather theatrical way that I have had somewhat of a penchant for since I was very little. On the other, I feel like everyone is staring at me (which conflicts with the joy I take from the very attention I am complaining about) and I want to just disappear. My own doubts and fears eat away at the illusion of self-confidence that I try to project to the world.

                That being said, there are some days that are easier than others. When I bump into things because my spatial awareness is off, it’s usually a bad day.

Frustrated Self-Loathing and General Hate

Frustrated Self Loathing and Hate

                So, today I go to the ophthalmologist and get told that there is nothing that they can do about my left eye. It’s basically: You have some optical nerve damage and that re-focusing that you’re experiencing is a symptom of the healing that is taking place. It should clear up in a couple of months.

                Motherfuckers! It’s affecting my ability to do *anything* right the fuck now!

                Nothing they can do.

                So, this afternoon, I just had a lovely dive into a situational black depression while I am in the middle of a somewhat manic episode chemically. This lovely combination leaves me somewhat agitated and filled with rage and anger, which, due to my eyes being so fucked up, I can’t even process in my usual ways: jewelry, general crafting, (or because of other recent health issues) self flagellation (by myself or using someone as my sadist). Instead, I turn to my other outlet: Food.

                This afternoon, I made the conscious decision to gorge on salad. I even allowed myself a little bit of ice cream. That sated the general hate (turned on myself for some reason) that was running through my system enough for me to sleep off the dilation eyedrops and headache that I get from them. When I woke up, though, I wanted nothing other than pizza. So, I said fuck it, and asked the husband to grab me pizza on the way home.

                I could have gone for some gourmet type pizza, and made this cheat day on my diet worthwhile, right? Of course I could have. Did I? No. What I wanted and craved was cheap, greasy, fatty fucking Little Caesar’s $5 carryout cheese pizza and crazy bread.

                Fuck gourmet!

                So, he brought that home for me, and I ate almost the entire thing (not the crusts, because, you know, I have class n shit, right?). He had a couple of pieces of crazy bread, and I ate all the rest in a fit of self-loathing and general hate for the world in general.

                What’s funny is I now feel myself rebounding back from that black pit. The act of self-destruction that I just perpetrated worked exactly the way it was supposed to. But, what the fuck am I going to do the next time? Or the time after that. I have to get myself under some motherfucking control again. Hopefully, the next time I have one of these fucking swings, I will be able to channel it in more constructive ways, like my jewelry, or even crocheting.

                At least I didn’t start smoking again.

                Goddamn! I want a fucking cigarette.

Universe: Message Received 8-12-11

Universe: Message Received.  8-12-11

                I went to get my dinner tonight and after pulling out of the drive through, there was a lady with one leg in a wheel chair asking for a couple of bucks. I had a five, so I handed it to her. Then, I went to pull out, park and eat, then we ended up talking a while.

                She was big on god and blessings. She told me how she had been on the street after losing her leg and how her little puppy dog inspired her to get off the street. It didn’t seem like she was trying to score pity points, just tell me her story and preach her experience, which I can dig, though I was hungry and on my way to a party thing. I listened, and told her what had been going on for me lately in broad strokes. She told me that God (or the way I just look at it, The Universe) has plans within plans for everything and everyone. Her losing her leg was just such an experience for her, and she doesn’t miss the leg (that was giving her so many problems before) or her life before. She found meaning in her tragedy.

                So, I went and ate my burger and she went shopping for her food. When I looked up, she was by my car again, and offered me more blessings. I smiled and returned blessings on her.

                Positivity breeds positivity. It doesn’t always work out that way, but doing what you think is right at any given point in time is will be what keeps this world from spiraling completely out of control. She reminded me of that in her way.

                Another thing she reminded me of was the fact that things can in fact get worse. After the recent illness I suffered, I have found myself getting bitter. I have suffered brain damage and things are not quite the same for me anymore. I am frustrated and earlier today, had a major pity party where I was sobbing into my boyfriend’s chest feeling sorry for myself and generally miserable.

                Well, Universe, your message is received. Be happy and grateful that I am alive, and know that the damage could have been worse. Be grateful that the damage can be fixed and is more than likely not permanent. Be grateful that I have a job that will be flexible with me while I am broken. Be grateful for having had (and still having) the love and support of my family in this trying time.

                I am not exactly what you’d call religious, but even I can take a hint that the flow of energies sought to teach me a smidgen of humility, or at least, that’s part of what I choose to take from this random series of events. My boyfriend sought to console me by mentioning that I probably have more compassion for those whose brains don’t work like mine did/does/hopefully will again. At the time, it made me cry a little harder, but he was right (I am sure he just fucking loves that :P).

                One more thing: As I finished up talking with her and watched her roll home, I turned on the radio. “666” was on, which I blasted on the freeway on the way to the party. Thought it was a funny juxtaposition.

My Eyeball is Trying to Float Away!

Floating Eyeball

                Have you ever felt like you could hit yourself on the back of the head, and your eyeball will come flying out? No? You don’t know what you’re missing. I have had this feeling and urge all day, even though I know that my eyeball is very securely attached (I can hope, motherfuckers, I can hope). It is, however, seeming to sink back into my skull just a bit further than it did pre-meningitis. I went to the doctor today, and, after blood test tomorrow, will be scheduling an appointment with an opthamologist to see if there is anything we can do about this crap. On top of all this, I am pretty sure my prescription has changed.

                Though, it would be kind of fun to pop the eye out, say, “Hi! How you doin? Nice to see you,” then pop that fucker back in. A great way to break the ice, right? Or maybe a great way to get a restraining order out against you. Either way…

8/11/11

PS: Visit my weight loss blog, where I talk more about the doctor’s visit. I also wouldn’t say no to more people cheering my fat ass on! It’s time to celebrate the incredible shrinking (I hope) Becca!

http://theincredibleshrinkingbecca.blogspot.com/