Fairy tales gone terribly awry

I am so tired of sleeping alone.
Every night my partner has to go home around midnight. My proverbial Cinderella. Only there's no glass slipper or story of a happy ending. Even if there was a glass slipper, I already know where to find it's owner so there's really no mystery there. It would belong to a man I'm in love with, at his home that he shares with his girlfriend of 12 years, a woman who doesn't even know I exist. A woman who is blind or dumb to his endeavors. He comes to my house every evening and we play nice like a happy couple, and it feels good and "normal" but then he starts checking his watch every 15 minutes so he can make sure he doesn't stay too late, so his ignorant, or damaged, or dependent, or oblivious, or...abused?...girlfriend doesn't get suspicious.
What is the point of our relationship?
He isn't interested in the things I am interested in. We don't agree about politics, class, racism, gender, or even about simple things like etiquette. It may sound ridiculous, but he asks me to go in the bathroom if I have to burp or fart, because "women are dainty creatures" and "aren't supposed" to have bodily functions.
He always has something negative to say. Always, without fail, even when there is a compliment to be had, he adds a stinger at the end. His compliments are back-handed insults.

The very nature of our relationship is a catalyst to my every insecurity. Insecurities that believe it or not, I've worked my entire life to dispel, or to weaken. My whole life I compared myself to a ridiculous standard of beauty. It caused me to compare myself to other women, with completely different bone structures than me. Women I could never be, but starved myself to be more like, threw up my meals to be more like. I spent so many years teaching myself to love my body and my skin and my face and myself. I got to a pretty positive place self-image wise. But apparently no matter how sure of yourself you are, no matter how beautiful you believe yourself to be...if someone you care about tells you otherwise or acts otherwise it is so so so so so sooooo hard to combat those messages. I started comparing myself to other women again. Women I saw him looking at, women I hear his friends making objectifying remarks to/about/at. I started getting mad at the women for my partners lewd remarks and gestures. I was mad at them for being more desirable than I thought I was, or more deserving of his attention.
Recently I've realized my behaviors. I've made an enormous effort not to even look at other women. Not to objectify them and break them apart into comparable body parts. And in doing this I'm starting to regain a sense of self. I'm starting to rummage through the pieces of myself that I've let fall to the wayside to preserve his feelings, possessiveness, and archaic rules of propriety. It's hard, but a work in progress and progress is going well.
What's wrong with me?
What am I doing with this person who occasionally makes me happy beyond compare, but mostly just adds tenfold to my feelings of imprisonment and confinement and claustrophobia. Why do I put up with it? Because I love him? Because I care about his feelings and don't ever want to lose his feelings of love for me? Love sucks.
Love sucks
Love sucks
love suckslovesuckslovesuckslovesuckslovesuckslovessuckslovesuckslovesucks.


Fuck





I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP ALONE ANYMORE.

.

ERGHHHH!!!!
I hate waking up in a perfectly fine mood only to have it smashed to bits by some insensitive fuckwad.
I CANNOT LEAVE COLUMBIA!! I cannot be more than 2 fucking hours from st.louis. For 2 grueling years its been this way. I have to watch passively my friends moving and exploring and having adventures while I rot away in this shitty town. Do you think I want to be here? Living in a house with 8 people? I have ONE ROOM to call my own, and its bulging with my containment. Do you think I want to be here, desperately trying to find things to occupy my time? Fighting constantly with my partner because he's the only one who ever hears this crap and it wears him out?
So when you send me stupid messages and annoying comments like "you would love this wonderful awesome place I am at, why don't you come visit?" or "Come see me!" or any other insensitive ramblings like that, it makes me feel like you aren't really my friend. Have you ACTUALLY forgotten that I am waiting for a heart transplant? Have you ACTUALLY forgotten that I can't leave this place? Have you ACTUALLY forgotten that I am dying and you aren't making it any easier by teasing me with all the wonderful things I may very well never experience?

It pisses me off when you talk about how awful your life is because you can't decide what to do given the volume of your options. Cry me a fucking river.
It pisses me off when you tell me you're going to do a health study where they inject you with TYPHOID FEVER. You are perfectly healthy and you're just throwing it away for what? $4000 dollars? Here's an idea...get a job you asshole. At least you can get a job and support yourself. You don't even understand how degrading it is to get $500 dollars a month from the government and not be able to work to support yourself.
It isn't fair that I have the will and drive, but lack the ability, and fools like you have all the ability in the world and you're pissing it away. You're pissing on me and laughing in my face.


Not that I want to tell anyone how to live their lives. Or how to treat their own bodies...just that it's so frustrating.
So frustrating.
So frustrating sometimes to think I have this strong support system, to think I might have made good enough friends over the years that they can respect me a little bit. By not making insensitive commments that prove just how normalized my illness has become to them.
I know, though, that when the call comes for me to come lay on the hard cold steel table and have my HEART SURGICALLY REMOVED AND REPLACED WITH THAT OF A CORPSE, my friends will come and see me, and shmooze, but ultimately I will deal with it alone because that's my curse i suppose.

Or maybe my friends will step up and suprise me, being jarred by the reality of the situation once I'm on the operating table.
MEh.

Blogs..
For complaining.
wah wah wah. Woe is me. I am sad. Wah.
My life is so bad. Meh meh meh.
Poppycock.
blah.
blah
blah.

Sometimes I feel like my emotions are going to break me.
I hope not, though. Because I have places like this to share my frustrations.

Yep.

My dreams.
Are becoming an entire existence. Last night I dreamed more than 4 dreams. One was very intense...about being interred in a death camp of sorts, in cramped conditions. My head was shaved and I was thrown into a small dirt-floor room with 15 or so others. We didn't have anything in common, really. Nothing obvious anyway.
When I left the building I was in a long outdoor corridor...an alley of sorts...with other shack-like structures lining it. Surrounding the corridor were 50 foot fences of steel, with no way to see out. The tops and sides were laden with razor wire.
There were people roaming the corridor and guards dressed in brown with black boots and large guns standing at and around the huge gate that was the entrance, and walking through the corridor occasionally. Every half hour or so, the guards left view and a sprinkler system came on...more like a mister. It sprayed everyone in the area.
After a while I made some friends, and then as time passed, people started dying. They would start getting sick and become very skinny. Then they would start coughing up a disgusting greenish gunk from their mouths. They would get really violent and then die by exhausting themselves in undirected rage.
I started getting sick, but a few of us, myself included, didn't go past the sick stage. We felt like shit, but didn't die. We all eventually discovered/deduced that this was a testing facility for mass biological warfare,and that we were resistant and therefore valuable to their research.
Then a loud siren went off, and all the guards marched through the corridor in a procession line. They were being called to some sort of fight, and I was making plans to escape before their return...when I awoke this morning .

When I did awake, my head pounded with a migraine. I found that the blood vessels under my eyes were ruptured. From screaming in my dream. From holding my breath while being tortured in water.

My dreams have always been vivid. I've remembered nearly all my dreams since my first one when I was 3 years old. It's like a part of me lives in another world. There are many recurring places that I dream of. Familiar, homey places. The old house with the impossible construction. The forest where I was a ghost, where the old tree spoke to me and I saw it's whole life in front of my eyes. The haunted house with a roller coaster, where I've faced some of my deepest fears. The school with the old rotting staircase. These are places I visit with regularity, picking up where I left off in my last dream. I know I am dreaming and can become conscious in the dreams. I cannot control what happens, only what I do...whether that be flying, running, crying...whatever.

It's new, though...that my dreams are affecting me physically. A bit distressing. Is there something wrong with my brain? Why are my dreams so vivid and so real? So frequent and jarring? Its interesting.
For sure.



for sure for sure for sure

AHHH SHIT

Today is...interesting. I've been doing a lot of the things I used to do now that my partner is out of town for two months. I've been going out at night with my friends who have work and school during the days...which means I haven't seen them at all for almost 6 months.
I know it isn't his fault that I never go out. I am just scared to tell him I want to do stuff on my own. I don't want him to think I don't want to spend time with him and then pull away from me because he thinks that's what I'm doing. I also know his past (and present) history of cheating. He's told me all about his escapades at his favorite bar. Following girls into their cars to fondle them, going home with waitresses after hours and hooking up with other strangers there.
Not to mention all the times he's told me about hooking up with his old co-workers. At least one person at every store he owned- which is 35 over the course of 6 years. On top of that all, he's cheating on his current girlfriend with me. So that makes me feel cheap, and automatically weary of his intentions.
So bottom line is that I fear if I go out, and am not constantly around to keep an eye on him- he'll take that opportunity to flirt and schmooze, and generally just be himself. And that's scary to me. Because I don't want to be like his ignorant girlfriend. I dread the thought of someone I love abusing my trust so completely and being totally unaware of the entire thing.
Not to mention that if he sleeps with someone and gets an STI, I could get it. And STI's with a compromised immune system are scary scary dangerous life threatening...
It is very nice to have time with my friends, though.

In terms of my health...eh. Physically I'm pretty okay, besides the holster monitor they've put me on in lieu (because of my persistent refusal) of an internal or external defibrillator. It gives me horrible rashes and scabs underneath the electrodes. I'm actually not wearing it right now...taking a break for a while.

Mentally I'm in a weird place, I can't really describe that. I'm trying very hard to break out of patterns that cause me to feel unhappy. Thought patterns, behavior patterns. It is very difficult and I find that I'm still pretty ambivalent to everything. There are awesome things going on around me, but all I can think about is the future. All I can think about is what I wish I was doing, or how it would be different if I was at this or that point in my life. It's a problem that needs to be dealt with, but in the meantime it really makes for a bland outlook on everything. I feel just kind of "BLAH" most of the time. Numb? That's as close as I can come to accurately describe it.

I joined a band and I'm screaming again. That is really helping release some energy and negativity. Also, I have a show coming up with my acoustic set, which is now only covers. Hahaha. That's exciting and keeps me busy. I had some car trouble and computer trouble which set me back $1100. So I haven't been playing much pool lately, even though it's still a passion of mine, and I would love nothing more than to be able to become a professional at it. I wish I had a money fountain.

There's lots more. But that's all for now. Goodnight!

Egh...
Today, I feel non existent.
I feel like I'm always waiting for something to happen. But nothing ever does.
My body feels numb. My skin feels numb. I can't even feel my partner's touch.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and I'm not looking forward to it.
I can't go home because I can't be more than two hours from my hospital.
Everyone in my house is leaving town. My "boyfriend" is spending the day/evening with his girlfriend because she likes to cook on thanksgiving for him. Also, he doesn't have an excuse to leave because everything is closed on that day.
Reason number 3452 I feel useless and undesirable.
I am not good enough.
I am not enough.
I am not.

Sick.

I've started therapy. One is a traditional form, you know talking to someone about stuff. The other is an "alternative" form of therapy. I wont go into details, but I'm excited about it and it's pissing my partner off because he doesn't understand it. I have horrible abandonment fears, so after weighing my options against the possibility that he might leave me should i choose to do this...i decided to go ahead and thats a huge step for me.

What, if anything, is accomplished from it, is to be seen.

I had a dream that I got the call for my transplant last night.
It was more like a nightmare. I just fell on the floor and started crying, and they had to drag me towards the operating room. I was so fucking scared. I didn't want to do it at all.
I fear this mimics what will happen in real life.

uncertainly certain of it.

um.
I'm in the hospital right now. It used to be that the only thing I got stuck in here for was my heart problems, but not recently. The last few times i've spent time here it's been for infections that are a result of my immunosuppression. This time it's klebtociala (that's not the right spelling), a blood infection.
I don't know, and they don't know, how or where i got it. Story of my life, really.
The disease that killed my first heart at age 11 was "idiopathic" so they don't know what caused that. My allergies and severe reactions to most medicine are also a mystery.
One can only speculate where I got the histoplasmosis two years ago that sent me into a pseudo-coma and renal failure.
And now this stupid blood infection.

Ugh.

I feel shitty. I hate being in the hospital, i hate it so much. it's like prison. I have to constantly watch my back. My nurses and doctors don't know how to listen to me. Even though about 4 different people ask me the same thing every day, there are 13 different answers in my chart. they misconstrue what i say to fit their stupid little graphs and numbers. How can pain always fall on a smile-face meter? oh, today i'm "slight frown"...i think...because i can't really compare it to "crying hysterically sad face" because i've never experienced the worst pain imaginable.
blegh.

Being here only serves to remind me what a long hard road i have left until i can be free to live my life like i want to.
I wonder if i have it in me to go through another heart transplant...i mean i know i do, but what if it makes me not care anymore? I feel so trapped here in this hospital, but then i think of what waits me at home and it's honestly not much better.
Stay in bed and watch tv? check
get out of bed to pee, shower, eat? check
stuck, can't get out, feeling of suffocation? check.

Everything feels very fake right now.
my life feels like the moments in a movie that you don't see. I am the proverbial in between of living.
I'm living here.

I haven't written in a while...
First off, my computer crashed and I'm too poor too fix it. But that's not a bad thing, really. I all of a sudden find myself with tons of free time. Which brings me to secondly.
Secondly, I decided in December, when my computer crashed, to start seriously learning to play pool. I've always enjoyed playing with friends in a bar setting or whatever, and I was never all that bad. I knew how to hit the ball really hard and make it into the pocket. Usually.
But in December I really needed to get out of my winter slump, and so I thought I would pick up a hobby.
I was so wrong!
What I picked up was an obsession. An addiction.
Luckily for me there is a billiards place only a couple blocks from my house, and this town is small enough that I didn't have too many onlookers while I was making a fool of myself at the table. I started spending hours and hours there, just setting the balls on the table and making shot after shot. I started being able to spot the regulars- all older men- and even getting on a wave-at-each-other basis with them.
Then a man approached me one evening after seeing me there a few times. He offered some advice and that's when I learned that pool was a sport, one that I could learn about. I realized that it wasn't just about luck, or about getting the object ball in the pocket. There are definite facts and rules of engagement and skill involved.
And now you can't get me to do anything else.
I practice as much as I can now. All of my income goes towards playing pool. I am in a nine-ball league on sundays at the billiards place up the street, a TAP league on tuesdays at the place a couple towns over, on mondays it's snooker with the same regulars that I am now a part of, and on saturdays the TAP place has tournaments. And every other spare moment is practicing.
There are some shitty things about playing pool for me, though.
Its so expensive! I can't have a job right now because of my status on the heart transplant list, and I've asked the owner of the billiards place twice if I could work for him in exchange for free pool. He said no both times. The place where I play TAP is free on two nights out of the week...which I take advantage of despite the health risks of playing in a smoke filled building. I just don't understand how people become really good if they aren't able to practice all the time. Do you have to be rich to be good?
And then there are the men who are just assholes. I've never played a woman in a tournament or in either league I'm on. Once a guy stuck his hand up my skirt at a table, and plenty of jerks like to stare at me like I'm a piece of meat, or like I'm bending over to shoot to seduce them. And let's not forget about the excuses I get when I kick a man's ass playing. "oh, I just can't focus completely when I play a woman" or "it's a mother complex" or "It isn't nice to win to a lady"... I constantly get negative feedback from the people I play with. I'm not asking for anyone to kiss my butt or shower me with complements...but when I legitimately win and play well, I hate to be shoved down with comments that make it seem like I didn't win by my skill, but by their lack of it.
But anyway.
Im so glad I've found a passion that I can focus on right now. Wish me luck!!!