crummy day

It’s funny how things can change from second to second. I am frustrated with myself, angry even at how bad I am handling things. Maybe this is just not a good day but I think I should stop kidding myself. There haven’t been any good days for a long long while.

My mood is an emotional roller-coaster and I mean it literally. Blame it on the disease, blame it on the drugs. Whatever. Every single little harmless thing can become lost in transmission in my brain and be interpreted the wrong way totally. I am just an ultra sensitive machine now ever ready to pick up any slight directed at me.

Mind’s in a swirl.

How can I deal with everything? Sometimes I can, and I feel real good about it. I feel super-womanish. And some days I just wish I can chuck my meds into the bin and shout some really nasty expletives at them. And some days I just feel so sorry for myself and I really really wish to talk to someone only to find my mind in a blank.

Not that I don’t have friends who are willing to listen. But perhaps the innate “don’t hurt thy friend” mechanism always kick in, such that when I wish to share the horrible side effects I am experiencing with you, you can only offer a hurried no lah where got don’t worry!

You just shut a door in my face. With a resounding slam.

And you as good as say it to my face that I am paranoid.

Which makes me feel really really pissed off and just don’t wish to unburden myself to you anymore.

So far only one brave honest soul has told me I got acne. Thanks pal. It feels comforting that someone acknowledges the truth.


And my whole outlook of life has changed.

I can feel the mean streak surfacing ever so often, as I scorn at the weird things people do.

For example. If you have a known problem of runny nose in the morning why is it that for years you never did bother to carry a single piece of tissue with you? Mind you, I don’t mind providing the occasional tissue when you run out of yours, but I don’t see why the heck people just don’t bother and they expect other people to provide them with years-long supply of tissues. The tissues in my bag are always mysteriously whittled away when I hardly get the flu these days. And most annoyingly their need for tissues occur at the most inconvenient times when you are hurriedly scribbling notes and your bag is FAR away and they think nothing of asking you for tissues everyday.

I know I am petty. Bear with me. I need to be catty today. It’s rather therapeutic.

I feel like I am losing control over my mood. One minute happy as a lark, the next feeling all teary for weird weird reasons. The worst thing is nobody really understands why you are feeling this way, and it’s not like they are going to give you much leeway and conclude its all part of the side-effects or whatever. But you know what? I can’t be bothered at this point in time. Let them think what they want. I don’t have to be smiling all the time. I am not a mask. If my sudden subdued behaviour at social gatherings discomfort people, hey just don’t invite me next time.

Its so confusing. Wanting people to understand, but not wanting to explain. Wanting comfort from them, but fear that you get pity instead. Wanting them to tell you that yes you are not imagining the side effects, yet wanting them to hide the truth from you.

And I wonder if my brain is undergoing atrophy too. I can’t seem to retain info as well as before. Or perhaps it’s the power of suggestion.

Popping 7 pills a day is making me gag.

I can’t eat dirty food or food that isn’t well-cooked anymore. Diarrhea will find me.

I can’t go out in the sun.

I can’t run.

I can’t dye my hair.

I can’t help feeling hungry all the time.

I can’t help feeling too exhausted to do anything at times.

I can’t help not going out with my friends sometimes, I am ordered to rest when I am tired. Or risk a flare.

I can’t help blowing my fuse at times, it seems to be getting worse.

I wish I understand how to achieve the “don’t give yourself any stress” part which the doctor has ordered. Drop out of school maybe?

I wonder if I can survive the final MBBS without having a severe disease flare brought on by stress.