A little of this, a little of that
Things have been going ok lately; each day is challenging, frustrating, and still a reminder that I am sick, but I have found some fulfillment in other things. I have put together different writing and crafting gigs, not enough to make a living if I lived independently, but still money that I can be proud of and experience that is related to my interests. It's not teaching, nothing is, and I still hate that I don't have a "real" job and can't support myself. I let that get me down a lot, to the point that I don't want to live another day if it's not the way I want to be living. And this is certainly not what I'd like to be doing right now, being a dependent woman who does lots of chores because of the unsaid rule that that is my job now. It's that daily sense of failure and submissiveness that makes my Smith degree nearly worthless. I know that isn't true, that I'm not a failure unless I call myself that, but it's so hard not to be able to live your dreams and be proud at the end of the day. I hope that will change, and more importantly, I hope I can be the one to change it.

I can't tell if I'm actually a stronger person, mentally, these days or if I've just tricked myself into filling my day with these little writing gigs and mini-jobs so that I have distractions. I know that so much of what I do is a way of diverting my attention inward to something outward. I bike to escape the house (when I can), sure, but it is much more about escaping my tormented mind. It is so much more pleasant to focus on crossing streets, watching for cars, looking at trees and people, feeling the breeze than to think. It's all about feeling, instincts and not so much about thinking. I rarely think about colitis, or not being a teacher, or wanting to kill myself, when I'm biking. In that sense, I wish I could bike forever, or rather, I wish I could replicate that feeling more often in the daily things that I do.

I have been reading more, a pastime I gave up because for months I decided that I didn't deserve leisure. I didn't consciously decide that, it just happened. I didn't read one book in months because a sick person who stays home a lot doesn't deserve something fun and leisurely like that, I thought. Books have always been gifts to me, words I can interact with on the train, in the car, before bed, on a day off. Reading is a treat and I tried to give it up because I figured I should always be writing, working on a (paying) project, doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning, cooking, etc. I'm much happier now that I'm reading again, though I do still have a lot of guilt over doing it.

I recently saw the Michael Moore film, Sicko, and it really infuriated me about healthcare. I know he frequently stretches the truth, so I'm not saying I'm 100% a Michael Moore fan, but our healthcare system IS fucked up and most people know it. It is a profit-making business, which isn't so in most countries. Insurance companies try their damndest NOT to treat you. I could go on and on about it, but I won't! You should all see the movie though, just as a way to think a little more critically about healthcare in this country.

I spent 4 hours in hospital clinic today, because I'm on Medicaid and misunderstood that I couldn't see a new PCP in the hospital I like in his actualy private practice. I had to go to this chaotic clinic, where I waited forever, and don't even have the referral (yet) in my hands that I needed. A referral, mind you, for the colitis doctor, who I ALREADY see. I felt so bad watching all these people around me who are obviously struggling and who waited just as long as I did. I still know that I have some safety nets and they may not. It also really makes me want to sell my soul for great health insurance or millions of dollars, or marry someone who will give me either of those. It's sick that a fucked up health care system can do that to you, make it "healthier" for you to work for a mean, blood-sucking corporation rather than in museum education.

I also feel like if things don't change radically with my health, we don't suddenly get universal healthcare, or when my Medicaid runs out, I should put up an ad looking for a sugar daddy who will pay all my medical bills and give me his corporate insurance and an unlimited bank account. There are a lot of fucked-up people in NYC, so I'd bet someone would actually agree to that, probably in exchange for sexual favors. But hey, maybe that will actually fulfill me in that department too, since I don't get many of those b/c of my boyfriend's existential crisis or whatever (What's up sexual frustration, how are you today? Not so well, thanks for asking) I guess a random sugar daddy will be my last resort if I feel like I'm slipping through the cracks.

Recently I was listening to Etta James' "Security", and the words really ring true with what I just said above.

Security, yeah yeah
I want some security
I want security...yeah
Without it I'm at a great loss
Yes I am, now
Security, yeah, yeah
And I want it, any cost, yes I do now

Security is what I want right now
Your love is all right
But I need a little more honey
I can't spend your love
At the grocery store


Lyrics always sound so corny when read without the music. Anyway, I too, am looking for security because love doesn't write checks for my medical bills or prevent me from experiencing clinic hell. This is probably one of those entries I will regret writing tomorrow, but man did that all feel good to get off my chest!