I managed to get drunk enough to steal a few hours of sleep for myself � woke up when the alcohol wore off and the pain started in again. *sighs* It makes me feel� weak, among other things. Helpless, and not in a good way. Waking up in agony is never fun. I was so tempted, when I could finally move, to come upstairs and see if someone would drive me to the hospital, screw waiting for Urgent Care, I want the ER, I want a line in my hand and enough drugs pumped in that I can stop hurting. I can�t deal with this kind of pain. It rips me open too easily.

I�ve been reading about the Cheysuli � it�s a series of books by Jennifer Robertson (I think), who is the same chick who wrote the Sword Dancer, Sword Singer, etc. books. She rocks, I�ve enjoyed her writings before, and now I�m enjoying these. Unfortunately, they are Spike�s, and due to their rarity and tendency to disappear if removed from his house, he�s not actually LOANING me them, I�m just reading them when I�m there. I�m on book five already, and only started a few days ago.

Still looking at May 25 as my estimated ETA in California� and I�m going to have to have a LONG talk with Caleb while I�m down there. His parents have been, all things considered, incredibly supportive. There�ve been times I�ve missed bills, or not quite been able to cover them, and they�ve kicked in and kept me going. But I�m � face facts here � so very NOT their daughter. Not even their daughter-in-law, really. Not yet, anyway. And so I�m being seriously pressured to get the hell OUT of here and move down to California permanently. Which causes several problems, as California does NOT have free public health care if you�re broke� and Caleb�s health care will a) only cover me if we�re married, b) likely not be COMPLETE coverage as OHP is, and c) likely not cover pre-existing conditions, which at this point, even my kidney stones count as.

It�s very frustrating, this. Because I rather suspect that as soon as Deb notices I don�t plan to move down there This Very Fucking Second, or as close to that as possible, she�s going to just throw me out on my ear. She hints at it enough. *sighs* It makes it hard to concentrate on getting WELL enough to go down there, when I know that the time I have to do so in, at least by her and Robert�s view, is very limited. She wants me gone, or at least that�s how it seems. Lots of talk of Candice and Eamon having the apartment. Lots of �when you are gone�. Lots of stuff that makes me feel not only unwanted but undesired to an extreme. It hurts, I guess. I try not to think about it, most days.

Which, of course, is harder to do when I�m HERE than when I�m elsewhere, which is part of why I keep disappearing into Beaverton so much. At least out there I can feel as if I�m welcome, feel safe, even if I know somewhere deep inside that I�m not.

And here�s an oddness: I don�t think that, subconsciously at least, I want to be safe. Which confuses me greatly. Why do I think this? Well, take a look at my boys. All of them, even Caleb, have trouble getting and holding jobs. All of them have, at least up until recently, been barely able to support themselves, certainly not me. Caleb� has done more than anyone else for me, at this point. But a lot of that was made possible by his parents taking care of HIM. *shrugs* And the one person, the ONE PERSON, that I am certain could have taken care of me, certain could have given me a chance to have an actual life, a chance to get well and be happy without any stress, without any worry about bills? *looks down sheepishly* I chased him off the hard way. Forgetting things he�d asked me to do. Not finding time for him. Not remembering � or worse, not wanting � to call him, never having enough time when he called.

I look at what I did to someone that loved me deeply, someone I loved, and I want to throw up purely because I disgust myself that much. He deserved, deserves, better. And for some reason I can�t seem to give it to him. I don�t know what it is that set it up. Grr says that I�m afraid of happiness, because I�ve never really had it. She might be correct, but that doesn�t make it right.

I don�t know why I�m writing all of this down tonight. I�m not even writing it on d-land, it may never get posted� someone else, I assume Eamon, is online, which as I�m on the upstairs computer, means I can�t be yet. If he goes offline before I go back to try to get some more sleep, I�ll post this. If he doesn�t� ehh. Let it fade into nothingness and I�ll try to forget it.

Every time I spend a few days on painmeds I get very used to them, and I start thinking that maybe, maybe, when I go off them (not if, when, the doctors are evil) I�ll be ok, I�ll be able to deal with the pain. I think this because when I�m ON them, there isn�t as much pain. It�s not so bad. I can cope.

And every time, when the medication wears off� misery. Agony. Bursts of shooting, cramping, violent pain that leave me curled in a ball, sobbing. I managed to fight it off for a long time, this time � I ran out of medication what, Friday? And spent most of Saturday being fairly cheerful. It helped that I was with Spike, who seems to make it much easier to be strong just by being there. He hugs me and talks with me, and I can watch him and see that he� copes� and it does make it easier for me to do the same.

But it�s been over 24 hours now, closer to 30 or 40, and I can�t keep the pain at bay any longer. I�m going to have to take some advil and asprin, which REALLY sucks because they are frying my stomach, which means that they will leave me even more queasy and even more nauseated. But the pain might at least loose its edge, and maybe I will be able to sleep, then. I hope so. I need more sleep.

Monday I talk with my doctor about signing a Pain Contract. Monday I talk with the Pain Lady. Monday I schedule all my procedures � I finally got the piece of paper that says YES, I have medical coverage again/still. So everything is ok, and I can go get things DONE again. Monday will be busy.

But Sunday� Sunday I spend in agony. I wish someone were awake. I really want to go to the hospital and at least TRY to get them to make this stop hurting. I�m getting worse and worse about dealing with the pain, really. Not better. Worse. The more of it there is, the less I want to feel it. The less I care about addiction, about my body�s real health, and the more I just want the pain to stop. It hurts too much to keep going.

Eamon�s offline � I�m going to post this now. Gods, I�m tired of this all.