When it Rains it Pours

Am I Vincent van Gogh reborn? Pinterest started popping up with all these Van Gogh quotes, and they quite accurately describe my feelings. It's nice to know my feelings are shared, yet it seems like it's madness. Such beautiful words created by a soul tortured by loneliness and an unforgiving society. Am I really so different?

Even though I take pills to give me energy, my fatigue kicks my ass so hard. Nobody understands what it does to you if you don't have it. I know because I was a CNA for several years and it was a word I've seen plenty, but had no idea it had to be THIS bad to even be on your chart. My illnesses gave me a new way of thinking. For that I'm grateful. I'm still avoiding the doctor, but I feel like I'm complaining. I also cut myself off of my antidepressants and nerve pain meds. I had to see if they were making it worse. Well, the antidepressant was good to be off. I was more happy, but at the same time had no clear thoughts and was a zombie. I'm in a lot of pain without my nerve medications, that was a poor choice. I've read bad things about my nerve meds, but they're not doing those things to me so I'll start those again.

All that medical stuff makes me feel crazy and is just plain exhausting. That's where that came from. I feel crazy for writing a book about myself and all my conglomerated thoughts.

Talk about crazy. Sunday I walked out of my job, it's now Tuesday and somehow I was let go, hired back and got a raise. I also punched that raping piece of shit in the face. Four times. When it rains it pours I suppose. His eye was swelling after the first punch. Fucker wasn't going to leave so I yelled at him and punched him in the face three more times. He walked out calling me a bitch so I told him to never fucking forget it.

That's also how my dad found out about him raping me. It was his house 😶 Turns out the beast inside me was sleeping, not dead.