IPOD
RADIO
Every fucking time I think she's starting to get better she regresses. Either she stops taking her meds because she doesn't like being "fake" happy on them or something else. (For most of you who haven't been keeping up, check two blogs back to see what I'm talking about, because I'm too drained to go over it any more).
And I can't tell her that even her being "fake" happy while on the meds is so much nicer; that only then does she finally resemble herself again; that only then can I actually enjoy myself at all in this new place; that only then do I not want to drink every night; that only then do I not want to just yell; that only then does the frustration not make me grit my teeth and hold my tongue when I'm around her; I can't tell her that because that would only make her worse, you see. So I have to grit my teeth and hold my tongue even more and just hopes she finds out just what the fuck it is that's causing her to be like this.
And seeing as how neither one of us has insurance yet, another trip to the emergency room isn't in our budget (oh yeah, we went there for her stomach, which, thankfully, is a little better now due to the medication they prescribed which she is still taking). And of course I sure as hell can't tell her any of what I'm feeling, because that will definitely just makes things worse. This is the only online site of mine I know she doesn't read, so it's the only one where I can vent what I'm really thinking.
Fuck it, I'm tired of it. I'm going to bed. Though before I do, a special thanks to wsoxfan for the support; and at this moment, I'm more optimistic about a possible Cubs-White Sox World Series than I was a week ago. Now, instead of the Brewers or Mets, I think the main obstacle to that is actually the Angels. The Texiera trade just makes them scary good.
And I can't tell her that even her being "fake" happy while on the meds is so much nicer; that only then does she finally resemble herself again; that only then can I actually enjoy myself at all in this new place; that only then do I not want to drink every night; that only then do I not want to just yell; that only then does the frustration not make me grit my teeth and hold my tongue when I'm around her; I can't tell her that because that would only make her worse, you see. So I have to grit my teeth and hold my tongue even more and just hopes she finds out just what the fuck it is that's causing her to be like this.
And seeing as how neither one of us has insurance yet, another trip to the emergency room isn't in our budget (oh yeah, we went there for her stomach, which, thankfully, is a little better now due to the medication they prescribed which she is still taking). And of course I sure as hell can't tell her any of what I'm feeling, because that will definitely just makes things worse. This is the only online site of mine I know she doesn't read, so it's the only one where I can vent what I'm really thinking.
Fuck it, I'm tired of it. I'm going to bed. Though before I do, a special thanks to wsoxfan for the support; and at this moment, I'm more optimistic about a possible Cubs-White Sox World Series than I was a week ago. Now, instead of the Brewers or Mets, I think the main obstacle to that is actually the Angels. The Texiera trade just makes them scary good.
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