No One Understands Me Like My Barometer

The fog inside my head spread out to cover Chicago.

I missed therapy this morning. First time I've completely missed a session. It sucks for my therapist because I know she'll often schedule me on a day when I'm the only reason she has to go to her office, but today even as I apologized I didn't feel my standard penitence and guilt. Wednesday we'll talk about ways to keep track of everything and remind myself and stay organized and all of that, but fuck that and fuck every well-intended coping mechanism. I've been poking around some of the other migraine/chronic pain blogs out there. All these things that make me feel crazy and worthless and alive and everything else get echoed across the internet. It's the stuff that makes it hard to take care of yourself when you most need to take care of yourself, the helplessness, the outlook adjustments, the assertions, and the thin shadow puppet "normal life" stories we project to distract and amuse ourselves. So I'm sorry to anyone I've inconvenienced with my disease, but try living with the uncontrollable monster that causes such "inconvenience," the guilt and frustration of constantly messing shit up, and the uncertainty as to whether or not anything you do has any kind of impact or if you're just being tossed around.

Some days I can cope with no control. Today was not one of those days.

Thank you, Aural Girl, for coming over and bringing me food and human contact. I don't think I even asked how her fucking trip was. She just did this huge thing. I was very lost and self-involved in fogland. The humus is delicious.