Rotten day

Rotten day

I woke up early this morning, around 7ish. My foot was killing me. So I took some pain pills and some Ativan to get back to sleep. That was plan anyways. It never happened. Every time I would settle in to finally fall asleep for a nap today, the damn phone went off, usually a phone call. So fucking annoying.

I figured if the pain settled down, I would walk down to the public pool down the street and have a dip. That never happened either. By three, I was hurting again and I needed some more pain meds. I tried settling down again but the stupid phone rang, this time my mother called. She wanted to know what I was cooking for supper. I am not making anything for supper. I just want to sleep because I am in pain. Instead of sympathizing, I got the third degree. All questions started with “Why”. I hung up on her. I got really pissed off. Forget about sleeping now!

I have been keeping track of my blog stats today. Someone has taken an interest and been reading a good chunk. I am happy for that. My stats have been sucking almost as much as my book sales. But I know I will have a lot of readers one day and none the next. So goes the blog world.

I had therapy today. It sucked more than rotting onions. I read her the blog I sent her and she got on her high horse with the transgender issues. I was not in the mood to listen to her. I wish I could put her on mute. She still thinks that going forward with my transgender issues is the answer to my problems. What she doesn’t understand is that it is not going to change my bone structure. I still am going to have the bones of a woman so why bother. I just want to die. She kept asking about my suicidality and I kept ignoring her. I had everything planned out for tomorrow morning but no, she insisted we still have a session tomorrow so that plan is off. I am so sick of living. I really have no interest in talking with her. I just feel so damn low. It’s hard to have a conversation with someone that you normally enjoy when you feel this low. She does allow silences now and again.

Today I was thinking of seeing a new therapist, but then I thought I might scare them with my suicidality and said fuck it. I usually get really down in the summer months. If my journals have anything to share it is that. It starts the beginning of July and ends sometime in October. Happens every single year for as long as I can remember. I get hospitalized more too. Last year, I was hospitalized around this time. I wish I could say it was because of the holiday but it’s not. If I wasn’t meeting up with a friend this weekend, I would definitely be in the hospital now.