Cry Pretty

Cry Pretty

Carrie Underwood has a new song out called Cry Pretty and I fricken love it. It is spot on for those that struggle with the “mask” or façade of living, either with mental or chronic illness. I have been listening to it nearly non-stop since buying it. The video just came out last night on American Idol. She has such a tremendous voice. Better than the bitch Miranda Lambert. She blows her in the dust with her vocals alone!

My day has sucked. I woke up at 5 because I was cold. The temp dropped and the ceiling fan finally cooled my room a little too much. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I did some retail shopping online and then had something to eat. By then I was tired enough to sleep a few hours before I had to be up.

When my alarm went off, I didn’t want to get up. I stayed in bed for another 15 minutes or so and then took a shower. The shower just exhausted me. I really didn’t want to go to therapy or leave the house. I rested for a little bit and let my Bluetooth headset charge for a while. Then I got ready to leave. I totally forgot about the pumpkin cake to bring to my barbers and therapist. I will have to do that tomorrow. I also forgot to pack my pain meds so that wasn’t at all good.

While I was at Starbucks, my chickenshit PCP emailed me back saying he wanted the pain doc to prescribe me the new med. Rather than wait till the clinic called me, I called them and found out he isn’t here for the next two weeks and his next available isn’t until June. I said I had to see him sooner and what was going to do about my meds. She transferred me to the nurse but they didn’t pick up and they didn’t have a voicemail. I called back but was put on hold. I got pissed and hung up. Then I emailed my PCP again telling him this and what should I do. I didn’t hear back. I emailed my psych and she understood that I am frustrated but I need to wait as it was “the right thing for my PCP to be doing”. Whatever. I seriously doubt my PCP will EVER prescribe these meds to me now that I am being seen by the pain clinic. So I started crying in Starbucks because I was just so frustrated. Then I put on Pearl Jam and that made me feel better to rock out to their music. Pearl Jam always helps when I am frustrated.

I went to therapy and didn’t bawl as much as I thought I would. We talked and he could tell I was tired and frustrated. After therapy, I was starting to feel sick. Withdrawal from missing my pain med dose at noon was kicking around and I chose to wait for the bus. I waited nearly a half hour for the damn bus. I missed the bus at the Square home so had to catch another bus to take me to the other bus home. Then my bladder was telling me it had to be emptied. I swear I was getting hit from all sides. The bus was fricken late. I had to stop in Walgreens for my mother. Of course there was a line. I was not fucking happy. I was tempted to just leave and tell my mother I would pick it up tomorrow but I didn’t want to hear her.

I came home and I am ready to fricken pass out. My ankle is telling me to fuck off. I go up to my room and quickly take some pain meds. Then I change to my PJs and go back downstairs to use the bathroom, except my mother is in there. Fuck. I waited and then went to the bathroom. Too late. I waited too long. My boxers were fricken wet. I put them in the hamper and then went back upstairs to change into clean boxers. I like my black ones and couldn’t find one. I couldn’t find a damn one of the million I have. Like what the fuck?? I grabbed a gray one and then went to my room to lie down. Except I couldn’t because I was in so much fucking pain. My mother was making dinner. She called saying it was ready. I hadn’t had anything since the Danish at Starbucks so I was starving as well as in withdrawal. I felt really weak. I went back downstairs and told my mother if I pass out, I pass out (after telling her why, which she didn’t hear me because she never does so I had to tell her again).

I was more exhausted after I ate. I tried to nap but damn ankle/foot was not having it. I am so done with today. My suicidal planning has been in high gear today. I figure I could go to a hotel and be dead. Probably be better than the outdoors where a kid could find me. Thing that sucks is that I don’t think I can get my pension like I was hoping. That is my only snag. I am so pissed at this.

My mother told me my pedophile cousin is coming over the house tomorrow morning so I will be leaving and be out of the house for most of the day as I don’t want ANY interaction with him at all. Maybe it will give me the push I need to write some. Just hope my pain isn’t horrible that I can’t leave the house. Even if it is, I don’t fricken care. I can’t be in the same house as him. He makes me sick. And the protection he has from my family and others is pathetic.

Published by

G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality

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