… It’s gotta be a little bit more pleasant than this.

I’m angry. Really angry. I get that way any time I have to take off of school or work due to something like pain or fatigue. Maybe not the most productive way to deal with it, but it’s what I do.

Let me start by saying I don’t like when I am not in control. Thus, this whole gastroparesis thing is making me very, very upset. I’m currently stuck taking a half day off from work to try to harangue my specialist into giving me a test in the vain hopes that a definitive diagnosis, rather than just a diagnosis of exclusion, will give me some leverage at work if push comes to shove and they ask me why my attendance sucks. I’m really hoping that this stupid fucking thing doesn’t cripple me to the point I need something like disability, but if it keeps fucking up my job, I may have to look into that.

I’m upset, I’m frustrated, and some other people in a similar situation might start looking for strength on high. This is one of the few times I wish I had some sort of faith, rather than agnosticism leaning toward atheism. I wish I had some comfort, even if it was a lie. I used to have faith in myself, and that’s failing as my body seems to be failing me.

My bad days are farther apart now, but they’re still REALLY bad when they occur, and I’m still losing weight. I can only keep that up for so long, guys. There’s not much on me to lose. I hate the idea of having a scale in the house, but it may be the only option I have to see just how fucked I am– I’ve already lost ten pounds due to this thing. Gotta say– if any of you need a diet program, try gastroparesis. You’ll dread eating so much that killing yourself sounds more pleasant.

I’m trying to upbeat. Believe me, I’m trying. This is upbeat for me. Angry and seething, but upbeat. If I was being emo, I’d post choice lyrics or quotes on Twitter and go stare at a wall in my room and do nothing. I’m trying to convince myself that this is just a bad flare up– but at the same time, I recognize I need to be prepared for this to happen in the future, along with all my other various little sicknesses I always seem to have. I’m staring at my future and wondering if I can even work a full time job like a normal person. What the hell are my options then? I always wanted to be a writer. Maybe that’s a good thing because maybe that’s my only option. Something where I can work from home and at my leisure. Something where I can go and curl up in the bathroom at a moment’s notice if need be, then resume work afterward without any penalty.

As of right now, my status is that of a Black Parade— I’ll carry on. If there’s one thing I share in common with my favorite wizard, Harry Dresden, it’s that I’m too goddamn stubborn to give up without one hell of a fight and taking at least a few people down with me in the process.

Thank you for letting me process. Thank you for dropping by. I know things can get depressing as shit around here some days, and that ain’t how most people want to spend their time.

Fuck this shit right in the damned ear. I’m finding a hack to get around it and have as normal a life as I can, even if I have to strangle a gastroenterologist to do it.

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