I am currently chuckling to myself.
I am happy. I am happier than I have been in years, and I am even happier to tell you all why.
It’s not going to be overly easy to explain. Some of you in fact are going to be downright dismayed by the whole thing. Actually, judging from some of your recent blog entries & exasperated tweets, you are already dismayed. This is understandable, as you’ve yet to ask me anything directly, goobers. The question you want to ask is, “KJ. WTF?”
I’m becoming ME again.
I hear mixed reviews. Some of you didn’t like Me. You prefered the sick, easily emotionally swayed weak & miserable KJ who kinda just went along with everything, had a lot of existential angst, & was relatively certain to be fat her entire life. She believed things because they sounded and “felt” right, because they seemed like the nicest thing on the surface. She was constantly tired and achy, moderately suicidal, but good at keeping a stiff upper lip. She put up with stuff because she didn’t have the energy to do otherwise. She was snarky & angry & didn’t understand why people didn’t just GET IT.
Wait…ok…that last sentence? That kind of hasn’t changed. That’s a core personality trait that unfortunately cannot be beaten from me, and God knows people have tried.
Some of you really adored Me. You have known Me a really long time. You remember when I was Going Places, Doing Things, Seeing People. You knew Me when I had dreams, before I got sick, before I was getting sick, when I still thought TV was a tool of Satan, when I was not just pro-life for me but Pro-Life-Period, full of conviction, loaded with boundless energy. Or you might not have known me quite that far back, but you knew me when some of that was still hovering under all the “Wait! Ack! What happened?!” of my life. I’m fairly certain none of you knew me when I was Christian. Well, maybe two of you.
Somewhere along the way, I became convinced that I was doing everything wrong, even though it had been working very well for me up to that point, and I pretty much did a 180. I know I was seeking something. I had become disallusioned somewhere, and I am pretty sure it was a reaction. It was an irrational, emotional reaction to a seething, deserved hatred of somebody who had hurt me deeply and claimed to represent everything I believed in, everything that had otherwise loved & comforted me. How could I love all that if this person was all that? I am pretty sure now, in hindsight, that I rejected all of that because I associated it with that person.
He was anything BUT all those things. He was evil manifest, disguised as tradition and scripture.
Lately some folks have come into my life (you know who you are) who have reminded me to think before reacting, to consider before responding, to read before writing. Not absorb TV, not suck down seemingly compassionate platitudes, but to think about what we believe, to understand where it comes from, to look for facts. It sounds like these people are pretty cold & maybe sorta mean, huh? But they’re not. They’re the warmest, most accepting and friendsome group of folks a girl could have the pleasure of knowing. They have the patience of saints, & are kind enough to not call me an idiot anywhere near as much as I deserve.
No, I’ve not joined a cult. Now you’re just being snarky. One of them is actually a lady I’ve butted heads with at work & some are tweeps & some are Browncoats. 2009 will go down in history as the Year of Teh Awesome Peoples.
My point is, my brain is starting to work again so I can even consider the idea of thinking-not-reacting. It’s receiving nutrients & making neurochemicals all on its lonesome. Do you know something amazing? I’ve stopped taking Lyrica. That bears repeating and emphasis. I HAVE STOPPED TAKING LYRICA. This is something unimagined before, because after only 4 days off I would become a twisted wreck of pain again. How is this possible?
I am going to a cash pay only doctor. He spends hours with me, because he doesn’t have to take insurance discounts & he doesn’t take any government funded plans. He can actually afford to charge a reasonable rate & spend time with me. He figured out that I have celiac disease and am to a degree lactose & soy intolerant. Changing my diet alone took me off the only medication the FDA had approved for my “condition”, which was diagnosed by a harried neurologist accepting traditional medical reimbursement.
I also no longer take muscle relaxants, and soon I will go off my migraine medication! This. Is. HUGE.
Lyrica not only causes fuzziness but it also made me hallucinate just a tad. I feel like the whole past 3 years was a hallucination. I feel like nothing I’ve done, thought or said in the past three years made a lick of sense. I could easily stretch that back another 10 years, which is when my doctor feels I probably started to get sick, as my symptom clusters started popping up then. So Christ…who AM I now?
I am not entirely sure, and I admit I am slightly uneasy as I don’t remember what it’s like to be this…I dunno. Hopeful? But I think I’m Me now. I think I’m who I was at 9. I am whatever I was supposed to be before It All Went To Hell. Not that it wasn’t going to hell before, but I began to recognize that it was going to hell around 9 years old. Nine is when I last felt certain of anything in the world. How sad is that?
Jesus said something about coming to him as a little child, and some of you might remark sneeringly that this is so you can be a malleable, programmable stick puppet. Well, that’s your right to think. It’s true that it’s a lot easier to indoctrinate kids than it is snarky teens or know-it-all college students (I’m picking on them because I had to sit behind an exasperating soul patch for 2 hours on a plane Sunday & I’m over grad students & the sound of their own voices). But think about it. When you were 9, you might have still believed in Santa, & you probably felt pretty damned good about that. Well, when I was 9, I believed in a lot of things and they made me happy. I loved Wednesdays because that was chapel day, and I loved being outside, and I loved to fly because I felt safe, and I thought people were inherently good, and I didn’t understand why anybody would ever want to kill themselves.
The next year, I was in therapy because I wanted to kill myself.
Full disclosure: I am in near tears writing this. Part of it is gratitude, part of it is confusion, part of it is that I wish I had sent this as a private email to a friend before posting it as a blog. Part of me says, F you all, you get to ride my weird boomerang back to the 80s with me: Reagan, Jesus, loafers, Coke with real sugar in it, making confidence courses in the back yard, Voltron, She-Ra, A-Team, Billy F’n Ocean!
Part of me is also terrified that my newer friends will stop liking me while I reshift. I mean, really, it’s the same obnoxious me, just not agreeing with you as much. Not that some of you ever agreed with me no matter what I said, and you must love me anyway because you clearly think I am a dipshit. But I have to tell you all something. This weird journey I’ve gone on, where I’ve studied other beliefs and committed unthinkable ridiculousness and spent more time inebriated than is probably advisable is in no way regretted. I think it’s been necessary to understand. And you’ve helped me do that.
The problem with Before is that I was admittedly a judgmental little twat. I was a compassionate judgmental little twat, but I had never done anything of interest whatsoever, so it was very easy to say, “Oh, well, no decent person would ever…” Well, guess what? I’m a decent person & I’ve done quite a bit of that. I’ve been known to be quite fond of that. So lemme tell ya something. The improvement of Now over Before is that Now? I’ve been tested. This shit has been on the road. This crap has been in the shop, even.
This is a stupid thing to quote, but Booth said to Bones this season, “You have to be a little bad to get to good,” or words to that effect. I don’t know; is that what I’ve been doing? Am I ready for good now? Do I deserve good now?
I can haz nice now?
I am entering a new chapter in my life which yall know I can’t quite discuss at this time. Whatever is happening, it’s happening quickly, it’s happening with great force, it’s being almost handed to me, and it’s happening with all the people I have loved over the years and new people I adore at my side. I’ve reconnected with people I cherish, met up with people who are delightful and kind, & made connections with folks who are truly brilliant in heart & mind. @TRUE has been talking about the coming uberchange, the propocalypse where a tidal wave of awesome is going to sweep us all up, and I’m feeling it. The tide is receding. Right now, all I see is some kelp and there’s a floppy ass fish over there, looking wheezy, but it’s going to get swirly and crazy in a good and fantastic way. There’s glimmery, sparkly shit on the horizon, barreling toward us.
You are ALL my friends. Agree with me or not, think I’m a dipshit or not, are fully informed about what’s going on with me or not, I love you. You have brought me to the water’s edge, in your own way, on some part of this journey, and here we will find together a big ass boat. I will take you, my friends, on the boat, and…oh my God, I sound like John McCain.
I said “My FRIENDS!” See, even *I* thought that was creepy during the campaign, and I gave the man my money!
Ok, so “Ooh shiny!” distracted KJ isn’t going away any time soon.
So anyhow…uh, boat. Yes, we will get on the motherblankin’ boat while everyone else is stuck at Kinkos straight flippin’ copies. This boat will have a water slide, minigolf, an all you can eat sushi bar, a roller derby, an ice skating rink, a bowling alley, a shooting range, a coconut milk ice cream bar, a vegan deli, a fully stocked music room, and a kitten room. That should take care of all of your needs. It certainly takes care of all of mine. Oh and shopping! Can’t forget @Maeko! OH GOD and a law library! Can’t forget @ktabin. The law library will of course have a cigar lounge.
*Sigh* You guys are awesome. Friends rock. The Fyootcha Rules! EMBRACE DA FYOOTCHA! Which, kinda, is the past.
Boomerang, Toomerang, Soomerang!
Promise to shoot me if I ever quote Lady Elaine Fairchild ever again.