Where She Came From

I don’t know if she’s real

she’s shiny though,

certainly.

Just shining

sweeping sidewalks

with glow

as she walks through

what seems like

a dingy street

sometimes,

leaving a little shine

for the next stroller.

Don’t knows if it’s her eyes

that hair

or sweet speaks,

may be

that dress over that body

that smile over that chin,

that shines brightest.

She just shines.

She just does.

Shiny Girl.

Introducing Shiny Girl

Everyone has a hero. Princess Georgia has a SUPER hero.

When you've spent so much time alone in the dark, you start searching for light, and Princess Georgia found hers one evening while wandering aimlessly through the kingdom's library.

Most of the books on the ten foot tall shelves had been passed down from one royal family to the next. After centuries of being read, or centuries of just being stuck on the shelf because they were too boring to be read, the books were darkened, and dusty, and withering. But as the Princess turned one corner, there it was. Light!

Princess Georgia moved slowly towards it, no idea what she was bringing herself closer to. With every step she took, the Princess realized it was not only light she was seeing, it was SHINE! Shine and shimmer! And as she reached her hands through it, it tickled, and Princess Georgia emerged with a book she had never seen.

Had anyone seen it? It couldn't be possible, the cover was so bright, the script was so bold, and the pictures..well even as a Princess, she had never seen something so beautiful!

"Shiny Girl," Princess Georgia read. She opened the book and saw a picture of a a girl not much older then she was herself, with flowing hair and the prettiest dress the Princess could have ever imagined! And what made her smile the most, was the bright and shimmering cape, floating behind this Shiny Girl.

Princess Georgia slammed the covers shut and skipped home as fast as she could.

The Princess missed her art class, and her music lesson, her dance class, and even her afternoon snack as she refused to put down her new book. Each page was shinier then the next! Princess Georgia was in awe.

Shiny girl may have had a beautiful cape on, but she wasn't a super hero the way Superman or Batman was. She didn't fly around fighting bad guys and saving the world, and she didn't wear armor and stand watch for dragons, the way the brave knights did outside the Princess's castle. Shiny Girl, was simply shiny! And that's what Princess Georgia loved about her.

Besides shiny, Shiny Girl was also brave, and beautiful. She was fueled by positive energy, and she was filled with light. That's what a real hero was, to Princess Georgia. She was so impressed by the stories of her fictional friend enduring fights with her friends and heartaches, losses and scary moments, but always coming out on top. Always shining through!

She was a beacon. She was Princess Georgia's beacon! She may just be a storybook character, but she's also an inspiration.

Princess Georgia looked at the big pink calendar next to her bed. "Its a brand new year," she told herself. And she has a feeling that if she tries really hard, it could be a brighter year. No matter what!

No matter what Monster wants to follow her around, Princess Georgia has a little faith that, with Shiny Girl to the rescue, she may be able to see a little more light. Maybe she could even feel a little sparkle, while she's locked in her secret hiding spot, waiting for that Monster to leave her alone.

Ok, that might be pushing it. But Shiny Girl is something to aspire to, and keep in mind (and in her heart) when Princess Georgia is feeling lost in the dark again. There is always a little light to be found, Shiny Girl reminds the Princess. Always a little reason to shine.

Happy new year to everyone & Happy Birthday to YOU,

Love Princess Georgia, and I

My Resolution

"Just a reminder not to off myself.

..What? You asked."

That will be my answer when people ask what the meaning behind my latest tattoo. (I'm a very thorough planner!)

A brand new year is minutes away, and I am exactly where I was this time last year. Miserably sick without any idea of a cure, too scared to live anywhere but at home with my daddy, practically unemployed, and hoping to hell that a chance to be normal again is hiding somewhere in 'this next year'. And it is really kind of depressing, realizing you haven't moved, barely an inch, in an entire year.

Over the last little while, I've gotten that ugly urge to hurt myself. NOT in a serious way, not in even a semi-serious way..but I can't deny understanding, when people or books or movies talk about self mutilation being some kind of release. Most still call it a cry for attention, though. And I definitely don't want attention. Less attention, actually! But when you’ve spent the last four years feeling the same, dull, origin-less pain, you want something different! Even if that different pain really does hurt, you’ll know exactly where it’s coming from, when it will stop, and what will be left when it’s all done. It’s a unique pain, and really specific, because a punch in the face wouldn't quite do the trick.

A tattoo would though! And! Tattoos are a MUCH more accepted form of self-inflicted pain. And with the cravings, and the miserableness being great inspiration for poetry, and poetry always being my ultimate inspiration for body art..really, what's to stop me?

Besides being a line in a poem of mine, it's also something that's always in my head on a regular basis. When I'm sitting in the bathroom all shaky and ick with my journal open, talking/writing to myself, those two words get used a lot. And then I always start humming that Mr.Big song that I've loved since the last day of kindergarten when the grade sixes were having a grad party on the playground and playing that song on their ghetto blaster.

Hold on little girl-show me what he's done to you-stand up little girl-a broken heart can't be that bad-when it's through-it's through-something something both of you-so come on baby-come on over-let me be the one-to-show-you

Well, sometimes I get stuck in a bathroom, or stuck in a moment without my journal, and this way those words will be there for me no matter when, or where, or what godawful time in the middle of the night it is.

Hold on

because

you are her,

the brave

the beautiful

leader

of a lonely army.

You know you can

and you need to,

I know

you want to

so

hold on.

A brand new year is minutes away, and who knows? Maybe I’ll remain lost and desperate for anything, maybe I’ll be right here still, when 1012 starts creeping it. Or maybe that fix for it all, is hiding amongst the next 365 days waiting for me to come find it, and finally get on to who it is I am actually supposed to be.

Either way, I’ll never know, and you’ll never know, unless we hold on.

(So, do it. And happy New Year to you, xo.)

Think Before You Hope Too Hard

Yesterday I wrote about how I'd been sleeping well, and feeling less ill, and more hopeful.

About 2 hours later I was on the floor of a clinic, shaking and sweating, and coming back into consciousness.

I went in to get blood work done, I was feeling brave, and nearly excited because I was pretty sure itd lead to a B12 deficiency diagnosis which would lead to monthly booster shots in the ass fixing all my symptoms. Instead, something about the vacuum in the vile vs. the scrawniness of my veins..she ruptured my vein, and the injection site was instantly swollen to the size of an egg. AN EGG! And then for some ridiculous reason we were discussing trying the OTHER arm, and then I was coming back into consciousness on some clinic floor.

THAT'S what I get for being hopeful? I mean, really? Good Christ.

I don't understand why Ive been so sick for so long in the first place, but what I REALLY don't understand, is why Life, or karma, or God, or whoeverthehell insists on also making sure that I remain hopeless, and sick.

I didn't sleep last night because I was too nauseous, and there is so much pain in the bottom of my stomach. And you know, only I could consume 4 Imodium and eat nearly nothing in 24 hours and still be able to rush to the bathroom. Only me.

Perhaps I could take comfort in the fact that at least I am unique.

:)

Fingers Crossed & Knock On Wood

Yesterday, was a good day.

Aside from murderous cravings rising while trying once again to connect with some fucking iTunes support, I have not felt cranky, or miserable, or cried for no good reason. And that, is for the first time since I started this new drug.

I mean, I had a panicky episode in a foreign bathroom and didn't cry! Sure, I said 'fuck' out loud when the moron in front of me was going 40 in a 60 zone, and I did consume 2 Imodiums and 1 Ativan, but it was an ok day! There was no nausea, no big panic, and no crying break down fit. I still have no appetite or any energy, but I slept the night before, and I am impressed!

And I'm hoping that we are now crossing a threshold into a more panic-free, ill-free, RLS-free, and depression-free place. I mean there has to be SOME likelihood of that, right?

Question Marks

A few hours ago, I was torn.

Since starting a new medication, I hadn't felt nauseous. It may not seem a big deal to anyone else, 5 days without nausea, but it's a huge deal to me. However, instead of nauseous, I've been dealing with ridiculous RLS, sleeping 12 hours a day, barely eating, and crying on a regular basis.

This new drug is originally used as an anti-depressant, and more recently as a suppressant for nausea. Well, the SSRI part is clearly NOT working for me. So I'm left torn. Do I take this drug and keep from feeling like puking 24/7, but feel miserable and cranky and wasted instead? Or do I go back to my original medication, and endure the absolute-illness, but cry and sleep less?

It's infuriating, to think that those are my only two options.

Well now its 5am, almost a week into this new prescription, and I have turned the lights back on after laying in bed in the dark for the last 45 minutes. What do you know...Im nauseous.

So now I am stuck with more then just one question.

No, I am wondering nausea or depression? Why me? Why this? Why for over 4 years?

I mean, really. I have actually, legitimately, felt like shit for the last 4 years. One sixth of my whole life has been spent feeling sick. Frankly, that is just absurd. I hate pitying myself, and I hate comparisons, but Google says that the average length of treatment for a serious cancer, is up to a year. ONE year! SO I could be finishing my 4th round of chemo right now. Technically.

I just don't get it. I don't fucking get it.

Why do I have to try and figure out all these impossible questions? Why do I have to choose the lesser of two evils? Why can't I be ALL better? I honestly just don't get it. The sun is coming up, I am fucking miserable, and exhausted, and I just don't it.

A Tour Of A Well-Equiped Anxious Bathroom (aka A View From My Anxious Toilet Seat)

Its all rather self-explanatory, except for the odd green shading in the bottom left corner of the pictures. My TNA iPhone cover sometimes gets in the way.