As Dark And Twisty As I Get - So Not Much

Sati-Marie, providing smart ass-comments since 11.05 this morning.

For some reason I've been in a strange mood today. It could be due to the fact that I'm not getting any, but I don't think it's just that. I don't know what it is, but I've been full of flippancy and smart-assery all day. In fact, at times I've even been a little bit mean, although not to people who can't take it. (Luckily I talked to my friend Ricky earlier, and he's happiest when I'm a bit of a bitch. I love having him around, at least online, because he's one of the few friends that I don't have to be nice around - he's happy to take my shit as well as dish out plenty of his own.)

It could be the weather change, or being tired and sore and cranky, or missing Oli. Or it could be the fact that I've grudgingly gone on a diet. I've put on a lot of weight in the last eighteen months, since my dad had his stroke, but mostly it's gone on slowly so I haven't noticed it so much. But in the last couple of months it's gone onto my stomach and boobs, and a little onto my back, and now none of my bras fit properly without leaving a roll of flab hanging over the side and back. I've always had a fat ass and thighs, so I'm used to that, but when it goes on my stomach and back it really pisses me off, and I know that I seriously need to lose it asap.

I'm not refusing to eat or anything, I'm just not eating anything junky, and that makes me crabby. But I'm thinking nice thoughts - cocktail dresses and designer jeans and little sweaters that show off my midriff - and every time I have a yearning for potato chips or chocolate I think of clothes, and The SBD's perfect body, and if one of those thoughts doesn't work the other does.

I am going to have to go to the doctor soon, because I'm pretty sure that part of the belly gain is due to ovarian cysts. Or at least last time I got a huge hard stomach, the way I have now, that's what caused it. Also last time I found I needed to pee all the time, and now that's happening again, and has been for six months or so.

Of course, I keep putting it off, as I put off many things to do with my health these days. If it's not making me really sick and it doesn't hurt, I tend to ignore it until it does. I know this probably isn't the healthiest way to deal with things, but hell, if I went to the doctor every time something goes wrong with my body, I might as well pitch a campbed in his office. At least once a week something happens with my health that would cause any normal, healthy person to make a trip to the doctor. And most of the time those things go away. Like, ten days ago my foot started hurting, a lot, and I thought that I had an infection, except that there was nothing to see. It just felt infected, deep inside. (I had a pain like this once, when I lived in Spain, but there wasn't much to see then either, just a slight colour change that could have been nothing, and it wasn't until the doctor cut into my foot that a whole load of crap came out. One of the most disgusting - and fascinating, to my scientist's brain - things that I ever saw.) But I didn't go to the doc, because I had nothing to show for it, and suddenly yesterday it cleared up and now - touch wood - it's just fine. And a lot of my health problems go that way.

So yeah, it's probably a mixture of the sore foot (and lack of sleep over the last ten days that's stemmed from it) and the sore teeth and the sore skin and the sore muscles, and the extra weight, and the dieting, and the weather, and everything else that has me acting like a snarky valley-girl. I'm probably making myself sound worse than I actually am - I know most of my male friends, and even my mother, are quite enjoying my sarcastic, overly cynical commentaries on people and life and television ads. But I don't much like myself when I'm this way - despite my chronic cynicism, I'm usually quite gentle and kind - and I certainly don't feel like myself. B, one of my oldest friends, says that when we were in high school I was always extremely sarcastic, and that anytime I said anything you'd have to double-check that I was being genuine...but having been blessed ( LOL ) with amnesia, I don't really remember all that much about my high school days, and what I do remember is viewed through rose-tinted glasses. I have a certain fondness for the memories that I have of those times, but I can't really relate to the person I was then.

I don't know, perhaps I just need sleep. It sounds ridiculous to say that, because I've been doing very little else lately, and still haven't found the energy to tidy my room or do my paperwork or...well, anything really. I emptied out my underwear cabinet about two weeks ago, and the lingerie has just been sitting in a huge (and gradually increasing) pile on my blanket chest. And there are books everywhere, and general junk, and DUST. I haven't cleaned in weeks. And I know I have to, I know that once the room is clean and tidy I'll be less tired and feel better emotionally...but I can't seem to find the energy to clean, or even to put the undies away.

*sigh*

In a way, I feel like I've been robbed of Autumn. I know that's a totally ridiculous feeling, as 1) we're only at the beginning of October, and 2) nobody's stolen anything from me, I'm the one who's been too lazy to get off my ass and do what needs to be done. But I just feel so shitty, and have since three weeks before Christmas last year - although it's slowly been getting worse - and I've sort of lost my ability to get happy. I don't think I'm depressed, I'm just kind of apathetic. Normally at this time of year - and for the last month and a half - I'd be full of plans and excitement, running around making chutney and gathering blackberries and taking long walks in the country every day, buying lovely clothes and excitedly poring over college prospectuses to decide what to study this year, putting together dozens of outfits from my wardrobe to find which top looks exactly right with which bottom, and which shoes or boots and handbag I should wear with them, and whether I need a scarf and hat and coat. This year I've had none of that, aside from buying a couple of items of clothing. I haven't even enrolled for uni, and I don't know if it's too late. I have to call tomorrow, although I've been saying that for the last month.

I don't know, part of me feels like I don't want to go back to uni, but that's a totally illogical feeling - I love the language, I love my teacher, I love my fellow students, I love the campus and the feeling of belonging. I love everything about my classes except for the long bus ride home at 10 at night. So why have I put off enrolling? Last year I was enrolled at the beginning of August. Surely if I really wanted to be there I'd have done the same this year? It's just this awful tiredness, it creeps over me and breeds this apathy that permeates every inch of my life. I don't want to go to class. I don't want to date. I don't want to go visit my father. I don't want to go to the gym. I don't want to see friends. I certainly don't want to clean the house - and neither does Mom, so there's huge layers of dust covering everything - or do my paperwork. All I seem to want to do is eat and sleep and read and fuck, but since Oli's gone there's nobody who interests me both mentally and physically, and food takes so much energy to prepare and unless it's high-sugar high-fat junk, I end up feeling bloated and sluggish. And I can't seem to concentrate on reading, and sleep gives me very little relief from the tiredness. I wake up and I feel worse than if I hadn't slept.

Fibromyalgia / ME / Chronic Fatigue is an extremely cruel disease, and I hope none of you ever get it.

Ehh, my intention here was to write a short post, and instead I've gone on and whinged for ages. Oh well, it's probably done me good, although I can't say the same for my dear readers. I hate whining, even here, and I always worry that people who are new to the blog will catch me on a whingy day and decide that I'm not worth reading. So here's hoping that any newbies don't judge me solely by this post - most days I feel a lot better, and write accordingly. (Although admittedly I've had a rough summer this year.)

Well, it's coming up 3.30 am, so I think I'll go grab some yoghurt - it's not chocolate, but it's pretty good - and a new syrupy-sweet Rebecca Winters book. If that doesn't cheer me up, nothing will.