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Jul. 20th, 2004
(no subject)
Jul. 20th, 2004 05:45 amSo, I am sitting here, insomniac again despite my random bouts of exhaustion, wondering why nobody ever seems to quite do good enough for me.
I mean, my dad took care of me for 18 or so years, supported me in all my (intellegent) life choices, helped my get into a good college, tried to get me independant enough to handle living on my own, etc.
and yet here I sit, raging mad at him for not being able to make the time when he was last home to dig up my medical information- of which only he has the copies of- so that I can get my health insurance and get my head to a doctor, rather than attmepting to get coverage with a pre-existing medical condition. I thought I made it clear how worried I was, what with waking up with my nose bleeding for the first time ever in my life, and the pounding migraine that came and went.
I miss being the little girl that hearing of sucha thing would make him worry over, make me assure him I was alright so he coudl go back to work. Even just last year he was quite concerned about this...I dunno, maybe I did to good a job in talking him out of the seriousness of it? Maybe I should have gone all out in my last email, and not played down the migraines like a rare and nonchalant thing. I was worried that just the mention of them might be too much...or convinced that it would be *enough*, rather.
But it wasn't. and I've had weird pressure feeling on that one part of my head since that vertigo attack on the 11th. constant, very light pressure. and I have problems fallign asleep, but I think that is the fear that I won't wake up.
Waking up and getting upa re a whole different matter; it always feel like my brain is rotating inside my skull in the mornings. It isn't getting any worse, but neither is it getting any better, and I just keep getting more worried, and more upset that I no longer am something that can inspire concern in other people.
No, I don't mean that in a "nobody cares" sort of way; I know a lot of you do. I know that those who know of my health problems do worry over them. And yet at the same time, whether through my down-playing of the seriousness or for other factors, it doesn't seem...it doesn't feel that...
I could die in my apartment, and nobody would realize it for weeks, because I'm not a presence here in this apartment complex, or this city. I don't talk to people regular enough online that if I was gone for over a week they'd think anything of it. I go to people to talk, and if I don't go to them, it rarely seems to occur to them to come to me. (That has changed slightly since I've started paying regular visits to the GTI, and chatting more with my friends who hang there, but prior to that I could come online for 10 hours straight with no one pinging me, for days at a time, until I went nuts and pounced whoever I convinced myself would be sympathetic to my drivel for the evening.)
It's like writing letters to my granma- there is no real reason I haven't done so in the last few months; if I wanted to, if it was really important to me, there are any number of hours I could find the time to do it.
But I don't.
I feel obligated that I should, and I will soon, but I don't really want to. I've drifted from my family since I started college; we were never all that close-knit to began with, and the longer it goes on, the more I think, what is the point?
None of them know me. I don't think I know any of them any more, and blood or not I'm not sure I'd want to. I'm equally unsure that I would be willing, or able, to let them know *me*.
But the point is, if I wanted to, I'd do it, instead of finding reasons not to do it. It wouldn't take much time, not really. I could email her easily enough; I check my email at least once a day. I'm sure I could find things worth saying.
And sadly, I probably still won't do it tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after. I'll sit and read webcomics that haven't updated, or trawl through forums that haven't budged, and maybe start that paper that is due on the 28th.
and try to figure out what it is I'm actually looking for.
because this obviously isn't it.
I mean, my dad took care of me for 18 or so years, supported me in all my (intellegent) life choices, helped my get into a good college, tried to get me independant enough to handle living on my own, etc.
and yet here I sit, raging mad at him for not being able to make the time when he was last home to dig up my medical information- of which only he has the copies of- so that I can get my health insurance and get my head to a doctor, rather than attmepting to get coverage with a pre-existing medical condition. I thought I made it clear how worried I was, what with waking up with my nose bleeding for the first time ever in my life, and the pounding migraine that came and went.
I miss being the little girl that hearing of sucha thing would make him worry over, make me assure him I was alright so he coudl go back to work. Even just last year he was quite concerned about this...I dunno, maybe I did to good a job in talking him out of the seriousness of it? Maybe I should have gone all out in my last email, and not played down the migraines like a rare and nonchalant thing. I was worried that just the mention of them might be too much...or convinced that it would be *enough*, rather.
But it wasn't. and I've had weird pressure feeling on that one part of my head since that vertigo attack on the 11th. constant, very light pressure. and I have problems fallign asleep, but I think that is the fear that I won't wake up.
Waking up and getting upa re a whole different matter; it always feel like my brain is rotating inside my skull in the mornings. It isn't getting any worse, but neither is it getting any better, and I just keep getting more worried, and more upset that I no longer am something that can inspire concern in other people.
No, I don't mean that in a "nobody cares" sort of way; I know a lot of you do. I know that those who know of my health problems do worry over them. And yet at the same time, whether through my down-playing of the seriousness or for other factors, it doesn't seem...it doesn't feel that...
I could die in my apartment, and nobody would realize it for weeks, because I'm not a presence here in this apartment complex, or this city. I don't talk to people regular enough online that if I was gone for over a week they'd think anything of it. I go to people to talk, and if I don't go to them, it rarely seems to occur to them to come to me. (That has changed slightly since I've started paying regular visits to the GTI, and chatting more with my friends who hang there, but prior to that I could come online for 10 hours straight with no one pinging me, for days at a time, until I went nuts and pounced whoever I convinced myself would be sympathetic to my drivel for the evening.)
It's like writing letters to my granma- there is no real reason I haven't done so in the last few months; if I wanted to, if it was really important to me, there are any number of hours I could find the time to do it.
But I don't.
I feel obligated that I should, and I will soon, but I don't really want to. I've drifted from my family since I started college; we were never all that close-knit to began with, and the longer it goes on, the more I think, what is the point?
None of them know me. I don't think I know any of them any more, and blood or not I'm not sure I'd want to. I'm equally unsure that I would be willing, or able, to let them know *me*.
But the point is, if I wanted to, I'd do it, instead of finding reasons not to do it. It wouldn't take much time, not really. I could email her easily enough; I check my email at least once a day. I'm sure I could find things worth saying.
And sadly, I probably still won't do it tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after. I'll sit and read webcomics that haven't updated, or trawl through forums that haven't budged, and maybe start that paper that is due on the 28th.
and try to figure out what it is I'm actually looking for.
because this obviously isn't it.