h1

i hate drama

Sep 7, 2010
People are too happy in Oklahoma

If I ever skip down a dirt road with a big goofy smile on my face, singing about anything, when the only sane method of communication is to logically express what I wish to say using words that DO NOT rhyme…
Just pretend you don’t know me.

And if I am guilty of the skipping, singing and smiling while with a man wearing cowhide chaps, a pretty neckerchief and a ridiculous grin…
Please feel free to shoot me :-/

As mentioned in the title, I HATE DRAMA (and obviously, by extension, Musicals :-/ ), which is why I only feel worse if I ever catch myself whining or being dramatic.  And although I try to do my best to regulate what those around me hear, see – and to a certain extent ‘believe’ about how sick I’m feeling – I cannot control these things within the confines of my own body and mind.

Today, the words: Oh, God… I feel like I’m dying keep repeating in my head; sometimes it sounds like: Oh, God… I feel like I’m dying again, which is why I’m pretty sure I’m not really dying.  That, and the fact that I am able to sit here and write about it, has served as reassurance.  Truthfully, writing about it is more of a compulsion than a luxury because to actually tell someone how I feel would be the very definition of drama.  Or at least that’s how it seems around here.

Courtesy: TheFrumpGazette.com

Those with Fibromyalgia know the all-encompassing, inexplicable pain of this mostly mocked and disregarded disease and the fatigue that envelops us like a soaking wet blanket.  We know we will, no doubt, pay a price if we dare to do something crazy like, say… sit in a car for 75 minutes to bring my son back to college and [barely] help him switch dorm rooms, then stand for a long time and lift something moderately heavy (to me, but not to normal people), then sit in the car for another 75 minutes to come home (not even drive, just sit). 

Those with Crohn’s Disease know the unmistakable urgency that demands nearness to a bathroom; that feeling like one’s blood is being drained from their body, along with any and all nutrients, but really, it’s something much more embarrassing than that.  Maybe some with Crohn’s/IBD know the panic of leaving the house for a “road trip” after spending the whole morning in the bathroom and bringing a change of clothing, just in case.  I never knew that terror until yesterday, since I usually just stay home, close to my toilet.  But I won’t see my son again for a month and I was missing him before he even left, so I defied my Crohn’s AND my Fibromyalgia.

Yeah, they fought back, but I lived to tell the tale, didn’t I?  :-)


That’s “tell” the tale… no singing or dancing – even if I could get up and do any of that  :-/

Courtesy: Dailymail.co.uk

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4 comments

  1. You have a great writing voice. Keep telling truth.


  2. Thank you, Priscilla; I’ll do my best.


  3. i agree with priscilla. I could listen to you all day. You make me smile a lot with the way you say things.


  4. Well, maybe not ALL day, Nanny… ;-)

    But thank you very much!



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