Back To Life

As a person dealing with a complex set of maladies I need to remember that life doesn’t stop.

No matter what I am dealing with or how deep the shit is piling up I still need to drag myself up and get on it! Nothing or nobody is waiting for me.

I have felt off, sick, filled with malaise this morning for a number of reasons. All I did was write about it. It wasn’t until I got up and “DID” things like clean the kitchen, take a shower, etc. that I actually at the very least distracted myself from my problems.

Maybe they aren’t even problems, it’s just life and I don’t like how it feels right now. I do wish my stomach and anxiety felt better but the Adderall is keeping the fire in my brain at bay for the moment.

You know that feeling when you don’t know whether to eat or puke? Yeah, that is what I am dealing with right now.

So I popped open a bottle of diet orange soda and I am going to tough it out. I mean what’s a few chills, headache, stomach upset, and unfavorable bathroom situations? Sounds like the flu but I know I am just really off my game.

I have less than two hours before my parents pick me up and I have my appointment with the surgeon.

All the worry and angst will truly be real and I just found out from my ex-wife that I can’t come home and go to bed because I have to take my daughter to the gym for a workout after her practice.

I am not complaining just saying I can’t come home and jump into my warm bed. I will leave and my daughter will be stronger-so will I too.

I think I am getting soft as I turn 40 and I don’t like it. All morning I have been writing about problems of mine: my brain, my injuries, and now again my anorexia. I got to stop with this. It is enough to make anyone feel like shit.

I just took my second Adderall and maybe that will pull me from my funk. So not Corey to be down and out. I always see the positive and go for it, I don’t let little things boggle me down and right now I am putting myself under siege with all my chaos.

Whether I think about it, or just live it makes an enormous  difference. I used to just live, and let things fall where they may. Now I am talking and writing about things that don’t allow me any fresh air or breathing space.

My fire in my head I am dealing with. My speech my be off but who the fuck cares? The doctor may think something but I am not on pain pills and I am not off center so fuck him. He needs to deal with my pressured speech today, as I do have things to say.

My anorexia is an issue that has stalked me and hijacked my life for two and a half years. The choice is ultimately mine although it might not be simple. Eat and get well, don’t eat and become the lifer of an anorexic I promised myself I would never do. Getting there is not easy and I called my eating disorders therapist, and I am trying to eat a yogurt so okay that is done, enough said.

My injuries I have had for six weeks and for four I have known to some degree about the surgeries. I am shit out of luck, the anorexia weakened my skeleton and I took a smashing fall- free-falling and I am lucky I didn’t break my back, hips, or neck. Deal with it. One week ago I was pumped to get the easiest surgery out of the way, now everything is worse or I can’t deal? I don’t want to deal with the anorexia or the injuries. Tough, I did this to my body, plenty of loved ones warned me all too well about the long-term implications and I didn’t listen. Starving myself was a better choice I thought. Oops I made a grave mistake and now must deal with it!

I am finally feeling a bit more human, as everything but the anxiety and chills has ebbed. Long live orange soda! At the time it seemed like the wrong choice but I figured if it was I would just puke for sure. The Adderall is quieting my brain and for right now I am not completely 100% miserable like I have been feeling all morning.

I think once I am on the way to the appointment and with my parents who God love them, are so annoying, I will be better. I have cleaned, showered and made my phone calls, I just have like an hour and a half before I get picked up.

I am going to turn my fucking frown upside down. No poor me, never has been that way and fuck you forty if that is what you are bringing me. I am going to my appointment a week post-op and three weeks from recovery, not so bad. No, it is not glamourous or exciting but this is the trench I dug. The next three weeks will involve physical therapy and figuring out surgery on my right leg or fusing my thumb. I know right, really great choices! Time to laugh time to find myself in all this mess!

Where did I go for the last 8 hours that were completely miserable? Corey wasn’t here. Corey is not a complainer or a whiner and whatever forty is bringing if it shit like that, send it back!

I got my little loyal pug on my lap and I do feel a bit better because I refuse to let myself feel sick over psychosomatic reasons. I will take another bottle of orange soda with me to my appointment.

So today’s shit show of a miserable 8 hours is over. Period. I need John Hopkins to call me and schedule an appointment. I also need to call a speech therapist.

I will get this, I have yet to lose yet, and I am not starting now. I am Corey and I am strong and can take a beating and still find merriment in all of it.

That is what the next bit of time is going to require. Focusing on writing other stuff rather than me. I got on a roll and sunk my ship, my sails were not adjusted.

Adjustments to attitude made-and now I can get on with still feeling sick but not miserable or sad. I can’t stand pathetic in my own behavior, honestly. It is fine for others, but not for me. Another swig of orange soda and I should be on my way to well.