I apologize in advance...

Hello. If you’re reading this, you probably know me. If not, congrats!!! You’ve stumbled onto my weird, wonderful world where I say fuck a lot, and try not to complain too much (which fucking sucks – see?).

So about myself: I am a Type 1 diabetic (no, cinnamon can’t cure it, neither can Jesus) which means I have an insulin pump and continuous glucose monitor; I have bipolar NOS which means I’m very fun at parties or not at all; I have celiac, or sprue for my European friends, which means no more bread, pasta or anything wonderful and cake like; I have fibromyalgia which makes my joints feel like they’re on fire all.the.time; I have carpal tunnel, to which I know you’re asking – how is she typing this? through the pain, bitches, through the pain; I also have diabetic neuropathy, which is not nearly as sexy as it sounds – loss of sensation in my hands and feet which is great when walking on coals but not so great on stepping on broken glass (thanks Hub for sweeping that shit up); I have PCOS - which really doesn’t bother me because I have a teenager and want exactly zero more children; I've got a handful of kidney stones rattling around that help to remind me that I am alive; and I have asthma, which is like God saying, "Hey, you know what you could really suck at? Breathing."

I live with the philosophical ideal of Dory: “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” I also have crap memory, so that probably helps with keeping my head above water. My teenager takes full advantage of the crap memory by reminding me of things I never promised, “You said I could have $20 on Tuesday.” Shit, really? I don’t recall saying that, but I also can’t recall what I had for breakfast today. A gluten free granola bar? Oatmeal? Who knows? It’s a mystery.

I plan to use this blog to note the funny, the weird, the awful of being so sick. I don’t think of myself as sick until I see it all written down and then I think to myself, “I should be wrapped in a fleece blanket, with an endless streaming on Supernatural and the Walking Dead, and a mixed drink in hand. And maybe a monkey butler to do all the housework.” Then I realize I’m poor and I have to do all the shit myself, and that makes me want to drink. Damn. I didn’t realize I also had an alcohol problem. I haven’t drank in over a year, but I think about it constantly. Shit.

Anyway, thank you for stopping by my little world of weird and hope you enjoy the ride.