Monday, September 18, 2006

Dear God (a purging of toxins)



...fever you may blur my sight and throw off my balance but you ain't gone beat me muthafucka Image...I'm gonna say my message and then I'm going comatose; yo' ass betta be gone when I wake up....

Now back to my regularly scheduled (or not so regularly scheduled cause I'm sick as fuck) blog already in progress.

If you are looking for words of encouragement today,  you've come to the wrong place.  I've decided to use a soul enema and am dumping the shit right on to God's lap, so this is not for the faint of heart or those that say, "It'll get better" or any of that other Hallmark greeting card shit cause you are getting tuned out today.

Pray for me if you want.  Ignore this if you must.  Say fuck it if you want to.  I could really give a ghot damn right now. 

I apologize for my venom at her, but not at You.  The event was just a catalyst that sent everything all to downhill.

So if I ain't scared any of you off, read on. 
_____________
Dear God,

My whole entire soul is in so much pain.  I've been through so much in life, and these past two months have been very trying

It has just now hit me how much of a failure I feel like.  I'm almost thirty years old and have yet to really accomplish what I set out to do.  My heart still hurts over the fact that despite my doing everything like I was supposed to, I still didn't get into school.  It's been going on three weeks now, but I'm still mourning.  I didn't get a chance to finish mourning because I knew the store needed me; I drowned myself in work to keep the impact minimal.

Substitute teaching is an option, taking classes, but I'm still feeling like shit.  I feel like I'm never going to get there--that it's fate's way of saying, "Monica, you're stuck."

Then, having to go to the hospital a few days after my birthday.  Having to pay all of that money up front before they can even do the procedure.  Trying to hold myself together while my mind is worrying about the store…wondering if it is going to be okay; thinking that maybe I shouldn't go through this whole thing at all Image.  But I do.

She's in pain and I'm being as sympathetic as I can because I'm a woman and I understand.  She apologizes for not being as sensitive; I say I understand; I'm too caught up in my own fear and insecurities.  If they find nothing, money has been wasted Image.  If they find something, can they get it in time before it gets too serious Image?

They remove the thing that has been causing my bleeding for so many years, but I still have side effects of the anesthesia, plus they say I can run a slight fever from time to time, but to keep myself replenished because I will be dehydrated.

So my temperature yo-yo's back and forth (if it gets past 100, they say to call someone), and I take Tylenol, drink fluids, but my temperature never stays down for long Image.  But I still try and go on anyway.

It is like that while I was at work today, so I didn't get everything accomplished like I needed to; my speed was a little sluggish (I would pause for moments, sit down, try to alleviate the dizziness); I wasn't fully prepared like I should.  I wasn't at optimum performance.

I call for help, but the energy is dark, angry.  I try to ignore it because my temperature is now over 100 and I'm feeling very nauseous.   I'm trying to keep it together but she's not speaking to me, and when she does, she talks at me, rather than to me

And it hurts, because I've been through so much shit…I don't even get a chance to explain why I'm not more prepared and by that time, she's so mad that it doesn't even matter.

And I've become angry, sad…I run to the bathroom, sick, feverish, throwing up blood.  Trying to get a hold of the doctors but can't, to see if I can do anything else to get the fever down.  I stay in there a while and then I come out.

Then, she proceeds to tell me why she is mad, rather than saying it a while ago when I'm wondering about it.  By this time, I just don't care. 

I feel like she can run the store better without me.  Plus, Joe always said she was better than I am. 

I never set out to be general manager material, but I always tried to help out the best way I can, and even I have a bad day or have a rough patch.  I always knew I was temporary; he reminded me of that constantly.  I knew that I never mattered as much as anyone else at the store.

And maybe I still don't. (shrugs)

But this was particularly rough because I have been trying so hard to be supportive without putting whatever I'm going through to the forefront.  I didn't even tell my grandparents I was sick or having the procedure; I didn't want to worry them.

And just the combination of everything (school, surgery, ex-boyfriend harassing my ass, this shit with my mama trying to find me, etc.) is crashing down on me right now. 

I don't even know what to say.

I should eat, but I can't.  I should replenish, but I can't.  I want to feel numb.  I don't want to feel anything anymore.  I just feel like I'm going through the motions--like I'm drowning in this ocean of anger, sadness, disappointment, and no one to save me. 

Perhaps the current model of me is broken.  Maybe I need to be someone new.  Clip the remnants of the old and let my soul be hardened.  No locs, just bald; no smile, no giving; what good has it done anyway but hurt me in the end?

Just feel like saying, "Fuck it.  I quit."

Maybe just travel someplace else.  Not back home.  Not to Georgia.  Just away--a brand new spot…where no one can find me.

There are times like these when I yearn for darkness more than light…where I look for something to replace the tears.

I'm so out of it that I'm not coherent enough to even put forth the effort Image.  I only have enough energy to type out this myriad of emotions before they eat away at me like a cancer.

I'm still Your child, but I'm hurting.

I'm still Your child, but I'm highly pissed Image.  How much more shit do You want to throw at me?  How much more do You think I can handle?  And do You really think it will make me love You more or secretly wish You'd just let my soul go where it may?

Forgive me if I seem to blaspheme, but I'm just asking questions.  My threshold is getting pretty frigging low and I'm getting very frigging tired.

Don't I have a right to question, or will I be accused of not believing in You?  Or should I just accept that's the way it is? 

Nah, sir…I deserve so much better than this.  As much as I have given to friends, family, even ghot damn strangers, I deserve better than this. Image

I won't even wait for an answer.  I'm too frigging sick to wait for an answer.

While You are screening Your messages, I will take some more Tylenol, blow my nose, cry another ocean of tears, go to sleep, and hope that this fever is gone.  If not, oh well, I still got to keep on going.  I don't have any other choice.

Or if You are really merciful, just take me in my sleep Image.  But that would be too much of a dream come true.

Peace.





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