"When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold on to them. They are the life boats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely illusive. So the question becomes, or should have been all a long... What would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What life boat would you grab on to? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write?"

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

One day, when I'm old and retired and have nothing else to do, I'm going to write an autobiography.

Its title will be, "The Love Life of a Hypochondriac."

Its main focus is how FRIGGEN HARD It is to live life as a hypochondriac. Then it needed another twist, so I'll talk about how twisted my love life can be (is), and especially how my hypochondriac-ness extremely affects my love life.


It is seriously hard living every day worried you might die. From a headache. Or a mysterious bump. Or a twitch in your eye. Or some mysterious poison someone might have put in your drink. Or a stomachache. ANYTHING. It seriously is a psychiatric condition. And I'm totally serious, It's how I feel. OK maybe I don't feel like I'm going to die every day, but every day (mostly every day-certainly every week), I come up with some catastrophic disease that I have. And it could kill me-eventually. Especially after going through my psych class-I have (I think) concluded at some point that I had every psychiatric condition....but I think, thats normal. No one is normal. THats the normal part. Ok now I do sound psychotic. No really, no one is normal. I think we all have a twinge of some psychiatric disorders, and some of us don't realize it. The depressed, the OCDers, the schizos, the bipolars....MPD's...all of them. Usually I'm lucky enough to breeze through each catastrophic (<<<am I spelling that right?) disease, for one week I have bipolar and the next I totally don't.

Lets just say I have NO clue why I'm going to be a nurse because half the time I think I'm dying because of a disease/infection my patient had that I had taken care of. I am very good at convincing myself of anything. Half the time I could create a headache, from thinking about getting a headache. If only I could cure myself that way. There have been many nights that I literally thought i was dying, and yet, Here I am--Alive. And well. (mostly). Doctors hate me. I can just tell when they are talking to me. All my tests come out negative. No one can find anything, because there is probably nothing there. Despite all my symptoms. I don't understand it.

THis will all be in my future book. So look forward to it. :-)

I'm such a spaz.

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