I hate the word “thing”.

Every time I try to post on here, my damn post disappears in cyberland. I was so mad the last time. It was a really really good update entry. Now I am writing for me. Everyone else will just have to deal.

I feel overwhelmed as usual. I feel like my life lacks purpose. Like I’m stuck. Isolated. Boring. Bored. And all of that is sincerely true. So that inevitably breeds feelings of malcontent: I feel sad fairly regularly. Stress escalates. Irritability abounds. Anger comes quickly. I’m moody. Up and down. Extreme. Or I’m blah, neutral, uncaring.

I feel like my life is off track. I need guidance. I need confidence – where did all of my self-esteem go? I used to have it. I used to have spunk. I used to not take crap, not put myself in a position to take crap. I truly have about zero self-confidence now. I don’t trust myself to talk in proper sentences. I am always struggling to find words – I will want to say something like "Put the keys over there by the door" and somewhere between "the" and "keys" or "the" and "door" my brain forgets the word I’m trying to say. I can see it in my head but its name flies right out of my thoughts. The word "thing" inevitably comes out. I hate the word "thing". I say it 25,000 times a day.

Constantly. I’m scared and phobic of a lot of things I never had problems with before. It’s alarming to me. I know it’s probably not rational to be alarmed. I just know that something is not right with me. The doctors finally concur.

I feel like I’m lazy. I know I’m not. I know it’s all related to this hormone mess I’ve been dealing with since I was … born probably. But try to convince yourself you’re not lazy when you don’t have much of an attention span, when you can’t sit still and you can’t make yourself do anything at the same time. When you aren’t able to suck it up and go to work when you absolutely have to to make sure your family stays afloat and, instead, have to apply for disability support. It’s difficult.

Cushings Disease. That or Poly-cystic Ovary Syndrome. Or a delicious combo of the two. That’s what they think now. The endocrinologist says it/they explain all of my issues, symptoms, difficulties.

I just want to be better. I just want to be fixed.

I’m tired of feeling like a big fat cow who only gets fatter no matter what I do.
I’m tired of feeling useless and like I’ve wasted my life.
I’m fed up with feeling pessimistic about everything. I’m tired with expecting the worst.

I want to be vibrant and proud. I want to feel sexy and confident. I want to be eloquent and established.

I’m tired of struggling. I’m tired of fighting to get settled in life. I’m tired of worrying. I’m so finished with being stressed.

I feel like my head is going to literally pop off almost every day because my neck muscles are so tight. I try to get BF to massage my shoulders but the effects of his massages, though excellent if I can weasel one out of him, don’t last long. I’m going to ask Santa to bring me a deep tissue massage from some big huge man with big huge hands at a spa somewhere for Christmas.

I wish my fucking period would go away. Gah. I don’t want to have to buy ANOTHER box of tampons. grr. I’m tired of inserting them. whine.

I told you. I’m messed up.