Last week when I made the mistake of seeking help for being a fucking nutcase (still cringing over that, btw) - I thought it would be a regret on all accounts. Well, it turns out every cactus has a non-thorny area too. That made no fucking sense but you do get the point I hope.
As I was signing the last-document in a series of endless paperwork (that I took no time reading), I heard some shouting by the door. From the small bits I heard, it sounded like a man was resisting aid. "I'm fine, you fucks. Leave me the fuck alone."
A few moments later, a paramedic pushing an empty wheelchair walked past me. He was followed by an angry (but so attractive) looking guy limping his way through the crowd of confused yet curious people. He was struggling. And it looked as if he had been crying. Out of instinct (or perhaps empathy), I offered him a chair to rest on. Although we exchanged no words, our mutual connection was profound. Out of respect for his privacy, I didn't try and start a conversation (especially not while the fat nurse and the slutty-nurse had their eyes glued on us). see post
To my dismay, I quickly discovered that the guy was not alone. Just as I was exiting the ER, a 20-something girl rushed past me. She looked so upset. I couldn't help but think "honey, it's called water-proof mascara." I know, I'm such a vain bitch for even thinking that. Despite her raccoon eyes and disastrous hair, she was hot enough for me to assume she was with that guy (who only a moment prior, I had shared such a deep connection with). Of course, why would I think he was single? Just because I am gorgeous and available does not necessarily make every good-looking man single and ready-to-mingle.
Unfortunately, being a hot girl is not enough to compensate for being emotionally unstable 24/7. Plagued with a mind like Sylvia Plath basically precludes being in a real relationship. So fuck me. Fuck my head. Fuck.
I will have to fill in the details in my next post. But the title gives you the gist of it. The weekend following my ER visit, I was scheduled to attend a wedding in Chicago. I was invited by a friend of a friend. I was just a plus-one. I hardly knew any of the guests. But I most certainly knew the guests of honor. The groom was the mystery man from the ER. His bride was the raccoon-eyed girl who had yet to discover waterproof makeup. I was flabbergasted. floored. blown away.
While I never questioned if he would remember me, his sultry eyes and seductive gaze left me no doubts that he most definitely recognized me. I was giddy, I had butterflies. He took my breath away. And he was standing next to his future wife.
3.07.2013
Remind Me Who I Am Again?
There is a critical level of fame and attention that once people reach it, they are no longer in the same stratosphere as the rest of society. it's rooted in a heightened feeling of self-importance. despite how unnaturally perfect their lives may be, their discontent is betrayed by vacant eyes and forced smiles and meaningless relationships. i used to envy such a lifestyle. as a kid, it seemed glamorous to have it all yet still feel a void too strong for words. my naive misconceptions were only reconfirmed after reading books like the great gatsby and the picture of dorian gray.
i know now that what i once perceived as glamour is actually just ungrateful ignorance. there is no real void but rather a restless anxiety that is too vague and too trivial to even dignify with words. i beg god to give me such a life. it would be saturated by vanity but enriched by culture. i would bury my head in the sand...i would drink my painless pains away. i would starve the stubborn last five pounds off my waif body. i would cry on a different guy's shoulder every night. it would be the ultimate life of a drama queen in perpetual crisis.
and yet, the kind of anxiety i am burdened with hovers somewhere between ungrateful ignorance and incapacitated train-wreck. The anchor that kept the boat tied up has been removed. The boat is drifting away but nobody is taking notice. If it is meant to be this way then perhaps I should let it be this way. All four directions, there is open water, no land in sight. I'm fucking stranded at sea.
i know now that what i once perceived as glamour is actually just ungrateful ignorance. there is no real void but rather a restless anxiety that is too vague and too trivial to even dignify with words. i beg god to give me such a life. it would be saturated by vanity but enriched by culture. i would bury my head in the sand...i would drink my painless pains away. i would starve the stubborn last five pounds off my waif body. i would cry on a different guy's shoulder every night. it would be the ultimate life of a drama queen in perpetual crisis.
and yet, the kind of anxiety i am burdened with hovers somewhere between ungrateful ignorance and incapacitated train-wreck. The anchor that kept the boat tied up has been removed. The boat is drifting away but nobody is taking notice. If it is meant to be this way then perhaps I should let it be this way. All four directions, there is open water, no land in sight. I'm fucking stranded at sea.
3.02.2013
dear mr. president
I'm having a mental health crisis (mhc) big enough to warrant a visit to the local clinic. Perhaps I should've settled for a call to the 1-800-hotline. Perhaps I should have simply done nothing and let the storm pass? Because the painstakingly lengthy formalities I had to bear tonight only alienated me further in my time of need. The entire medical community has no sense of how to approach and manage a fragile individual. The judgmental looks by every god damn employee and the hushed tones that were obviously directed at me....it was awful and unnecessary.
Watching the fat incompetent bitches sloth around, I slowly became more and more agitated ...as I lost precious hours of sleep (and the last fragments of a waning sanity). As I sat there, drowning in a hospital gown that was designed for obese nudists (most likely), I couldn't help but notice the love triangle that had been brewing over the last hour. But maybe "love triangle" is not the most accurate way to describe it. It was more like the sluttiest nurse on night-shift and the latino security guard were locked in a lover's gaze. And unfortunately, one of the fattest nurses I have ever seen was simply admiring the security guard as well. She was like a whale wailing internally for a love she will never experience.
In the three hours that I was there, I think I heard four emergency "codes" go off over the loudspeaker. the slutty chick was too deaf to hear anything other than "her man's poetry." and the fat chick was too busy making a stat call for a late-night happy meal delivery. Liiiike, what the fuck people...does nobody work around here? Listen, I get it. I really do get it ("it" being the dazed & confused absent-mindedness from being over-worked or overwhelmed). But both nurses had just started their shifts. I mean, if you have the energy to flirt with a security guard (who is most likely an illegal immigrant and is a struggling 4.5 on the scale of "would i ever..?"), then you should also have the energy to do your job. I almost feel more sympathy for the fat chick....b/c she was just doing what shes knows best - eating her emotions like no-big-fucking-deal.
But I was in and out of fury watching the both of them neglect to acknowledge me. They didn't give a rat's ass about me and my panic attacks. i was teetering on the edge of losing my shit. And losing it big time. it was of no concern to them how vulnerable i felt, shivering alone in the cold ER, as i waited to be seen....and waited to have some mandatory unidentified "talk." This so-called "talk" or "discussion" was total bullshit. I knew that was code for a fucking urine-drug-screen. If this visit was supposed to encourage me to seek help for my issues then I'm afraid tonight was a major fucking bust.
Rather than provide guidance to the ill-minded these triage nurses and ER physicians have only thrown me into a deeper anxiety. I'm convinced i am truly alone with my pile of mental horseshit. It's 3:27 AM. These fucking bright lights and several hours of bawling my eyes out have given me a tension migraine. murder.
Update at 3:44 AM = Just got denied OTC painkillers on the account of "ya can't cuz ya here for head prahblems." Excuse me...what? What the fuck did you just say? Can u imagine.... I was straight up denied. by a degenerate illiterate. So of course the next natural step was to walk the fuck out. sue me bitches. Against-medical-advice my legal ass. do what you want but I am getting the fuck out of this loony bin.
Update at 4:04 AM = God awful news. Apparently, walking into an ER dressed like a hot mess immediately certifies you mentally incompetent. I knew I should've put on my couture ball gown and opera-gloves....because that's exactly the first thing you think of in an emergency: Honey, have you seen my opera-gloves? This place is seriously a circus and I am being kept against my will. I'm literally being held in a circus prison disguised as a luxury crisis unit. There's your next movie David Koepp...but I want to be the first name listed in the opening credits.
For all that drama .... I now owe the world 560 dollars....as if all my sanity wasn't enough. as if the nightmares i will probably end up having about this horror-film status night wasn't enough. now they want actual money from me. absurdity.
the only two things i have concluded from tonight:
1. crispy cremes are the ultimate fat girl snack....and
2. i am totally voting for myself in 2016
Watching the fat incompetent bitches sloth around, I slowly became more and more agitated ...as I lost precious hours of sleep (and the last fragments of a waning sanity). As I sat there, drowning in a hospital gown that was designed for obese nudists (most likely), I couldn't help but notice the love triangle that had been brewing over the last hour. But maybe "love triangle" is not the most accurate way to describe it. It was more like the sluttiest nurse on night-shift and the latino security guard were locked in a lover's gaze. And unfortunately, one of the fattest nurses I have ever seen was simply admiring the security guard as well. She was like a whale wailing internally for a love she will never experience.
In the three hours that I was there, I think I heard four emergency "codes" go off over the loudspeaker. the slutty chick was too deaf to hear anything other than "her man's poetry." and the fat chick was too busy making a stat call for a late-night happy meal delivery. Liiiike, what the fuck people...does nobody work around here? Listen, I get it. I really do get it ("it" being the dazed & confused absent-mindedness from being over-worked or overwhelmed). But both nurses had just started their shifts. I mean, if you have the energy to flirt with a security guard (who is most likely an illegal immigrant and is a struggling 4.5 on the scale of "would i ever..?"), then you should also have the energy to do your job. I almost feel more sympathy for the fat chick....b/c she was just doing what shes knows best - eating her emotions like no-big-fucking-deal.
But I was in and out of fury watching the both of them neglect to acknowledge me. They didn't give a rat's ass about me and my panic attacks. i was teetering on the edge of losing my shit. And losing it big time. it was of no concern to them how vulnerable i felt, shivering alone in the cold ER, as i waited to be seen....and waited to have some mandatory unidentified "talk." This so-called "talk" or "discussion" was total bullshit. I knew that was code for a fucking urine-drug-screen. If this visit was supposed to encourage me to seek help for my issues then I'm afraid tonight was a major fucking bust.
Rather than provide guidance to the ill-minded these triage nurses and ER physicians have only thrown me into a deeper anxiety. I'm convinced i am truly alone with my pile of mental horseshit. It's 3:27 AM. These fucking bright lights and several hours of bawling my eyes out have given me a tension migraine. murder.
Update at 3:44 AM = Just got denied OTC painkillers on the account of "ya can't cuz ya here for head prahblems." Excuse me...what? What the fuck did you just say? Can u imagine.... I was straight up denied. by a degenerate illiterate. So of course the next natural step was to walk the fuck out. sue me bitches. Against-medical-advice my legal ass. do what you want but I am getting the fuck out of this loony bin.
Update at 4:04 AM = God awful news. Apparently, walking into an ER dressed like a hot mess immediately certifies you mentally incompetent. I knew I should've put on my couture ball gown and opera-gloves....because that's exactly the first thing you think of in an emergency: Honey, have you seen my opera-gloves? This place is seriously a circus and I am being kept against my will. I'm literally being held in a circus prison disguised as a luxury crisis unit. There's your next movie David Koepp...but I want to be the first name listed in the opening credits.
For all that drama .... I now owe the world 560 dollars....as if all my sanity wasn't enough. as if the nightmares i will probably end up having about this horror-film status night wasn't enough. now they want actual money from me. absurdity.
the only two things i have concluded from tonight:
1. crispy cremes are the ultimate fat girl snack....and
2. i am totally voting for myself in 2016
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