chicken doggie
New member
Think you have it bad? Listen to this B.S.
I ran away from home when I was 16. My ultra conservative prejudiced parents were also abusive, and would also occasionally chase my friends away with a shotgun. I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone, join extra-curricular activies, have friends over, go over to friends' houses, or even get a job.
Pretty much the minute I left home I developed Samptor's Triad. It's basically a combination of asthma, chronic sinusitus (respiratory allergies), and a sensitivity to aspirin. The doctors I saw said it was likely the accumulative product of living with 2-3 heavy smokers (Mom, Step-Dad, and Sister) for 16 years combined with the stress of running away from home. So I was working full time my senior year of high school to pay for my own apartment and got several thousand dollars into medical debt since I couldn't get insurance. My allergies are so intense that it's nearly an auto-immuno disease. My body overreacts to almost nothing, and may even be attacking itself. Great, yeah, even my own body wants me to fucking die. It's almost succeeded a couple of times. I've been stabbed with a needleful of adrenaline before just to keep me alive.
I'm not the only one that went unscathed. My mom's had 3 heart attacks in a period of 5 years. She got what was coming to her. It's terrible of me to say it, but I wish she'd just die already. My little brother has always had Cystic Fibrosis. He wasn't expected to live past 18. Well, he's 20 now. He's living on borrowed time. My sister got gestational diabetes when she got pregnant and now has colon cancer they're treating to keep it in remission. Her son was expected to be still born or at least with grave brain deficiencies. A miracle happened somewhere along the line and he's almost normal, barring being slow to learn to talk. Sometimes I wonder if my bloodline is cursed. I refuse to have children for this reason, among others.
Despite all that, I thought things were looking up for a while. I found a great guy and he moved in with me. Things were so great, and we decided to get married. Then he signed up for the Navy. I was trying to be the loving and supporting wife, not telling him "no you can't". So he disappeared for about a year and a half. First was Boot Camp, then A-School where they learn how to do the jobs they signed up for, then he got assigned to the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln just as it was leaving port for a 6 month western ocean tour. At the end of that six months, the war with Iraq began and he was sent out there another 6 months. I don't know if you're aware of this, but being separated from the only person you ever relied on for that much time is basically like living with a 6 ft. spike lodged in your body. Painful, agonizing, depressing, and inconvenient. My health degraded continuously by the year, probably due to stress.
When he came back, we had another chance to live together for a while, but we immediately realized things were different. He'd become an arrogant asshole, I'd grown into a bitter, violent bitch. He decides the only problem is that we have to be separated so much. So he somehow comes to the conclusion that parting for another 4 months while he goes and retrains for another job that would be land-based is the best solution.
By now we've basically spent half our marriage apart. I was dragged from state to state so long, being told we may be moving again next month, so I couldn't even go to college. I'm not spending my hard earned cash on classes I might not be able to finish because we'll be moving.
So now here we are, living together in Hawaii. You'd think that would be great. We're together in paradise after all. But so much has happened and we've grown so apart that I seriously doubt there's any love here anymore. But it feels like we've worked so hard that giving up now would basically be acknowledging that I just wasted the last 3+ years of my life. I am constantly sick, my entire respiratory system inflammed 95% of the time. I can't even take breathing for granted. Every day I live a pained, torturous existance. It's worse for me because through all this, I've fought so hard to stay on my idealistic high horse. I've tried so hard to be understanding, and do what's best. I always believed that it was better to die than to live a life of suffering. So I'm a hypocrit to my own beliefs, sitting here suffering every day because: even though mankind can cure cancer, replace failing vital organs, and even do brain surgury, we can't fix less deadly things like asthma and allergies. And yes, I've been on almost every medication out there and I've had 2 surguries in the span of 4 years, so it's not like I'm not trying my hardest. I'm a living contradiction to survival of the fittest, too fucking cowardly and filled with false hope to even put myself out of my own misery.
So next time you're feeling down, remember that things could be worse. There are fates that are worse than death. There are people who suffer every day, regretting the decisions they've made in the past. If you have your health, don't waste it on drugs and cigarettes. Some people would kill to be given the chance to be healthy, and you don't know who's life you're ruining by blowing smoke in their face. (Also metaphorically speaking.) My only hope at this point is that I can write a few books that become popular, since writing is the only thing I can do well at this point. I want to leave a mark on the world before my health finally gets the better of me. It's a rough life. Make the most of it while you can. Most people can't understand that until they've looked death in the face. Your own fear reflecting back at you is a powerful motivator.
I ran away from home when I was 16. My ultra conservative prejudiced parents were also abusive, and would also occasionally chase my friends away with a shotgun. I wasn't allowed to talk on the phone, join extra-curricular activies, have friends over, go over to friends' houses, or even get a job.
Pretty much the minute I left home I developed Samptor's Triad. It's basically a combination of asthma, chronic sinusitus (respiratory allergies), and a sensitivity to aspirin. The doctors I saw said it was likely the accumulative product of living with 2-3 heavy smokers (Mom, Step-Dad, and Sister) for 16 years combined with the stress of running away from home. So I was working full time my senior year of high school to pay for my own apartment and got several thousand dollars into medical debt since I couldn't get insurance. My allergies are so intense that it's nearly an auto-immuno disease. My body overreacts to almost nothing, and may even be attacking itself. Great, yeah, even my own body wants me to fucking die. It's almost succeeded a couple of times. I've been stabbed with a needleful of adrenaline before just to keep me alive.
I'm not the only one that went unscathed. My mom's had 3 heart attacks in a period of 5 years. She got what was coming to her. It's terrible of me to say it, but I wish she'd just die already. My little brother has always had Cystic Fibrosis. He wasn't expected to live past 18. Well, he's 20 now. He's living on borrowed time. My sister got gestational diabetes when she got pregnant and now has colon cancer they're treating to keep it in remission. Her son was expected to be still born or at least with grave brain deficiencies. A miracle happened somewhere along the line and he's almost normal, barring being slow to learn to talk. Sometimes I wonder if my bloodline is cursed. I refuse to have children for this reason, among others.
Despite all that, I thought things were looking up for a while. I found a great guy and he moved in with me. Things were so great, and we decided to get married. Then he signed up for the Navy. I was trying to be the loving and supporting wife, not telling him "no you can't". So he disappeared for about a year and a half. First was Boot Camp, then A-School where they learn how to do the jobs they signed up for, then he got assigned to the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln just as it was leaving port for a 6 month western ocean tour. At the end of that six months, the war with Iraq began and he was sent out there another 6 months. I don't know if you're aware of this, but being separated from the only person you ever relied on for that much time is basically like living with a 6 ft. spike lodged in your body. Painful, agonizing, depressing, and inconvenient. My health degraded continuously by the year, probably due to stress.
When he came back, we had another chance to live together for a while, but we immediately realized things were different. He'd become an arrogant asshole, I'd grown into a bitter, violent bitch. He decides the only problem is that we have to be separated so much. So he somehow comes to the conclusion that parting for another 4 months while he goes and retrains for another job that would be land-based is the best solution.
By now we've basically spent half our marriage apart. I was dragged from state to state so long, being told we may be moving again next month, so I couldn't even go to college. I'm not spending my hard earned cash on classes I might not be able to finish because we'll be moving.So now here we are, living together in Hawaii. You'd think that would be great. We're together in paradise after all. But so much has happened and we've grown so apart that I seriously doubt there's any love here anymore. But it feels like we've worked so hard that giving up now would basically be acknowledging that I just wasted the last 3+ years of my life. I am constantly sick, my entire respiratory system inflammed 95% of the time. I can't even take breathing for granted. Every day I live a pained, torturous existance. It's worse for me because through all this, I've fought so hard to stay on my idealistic high horse. I've tried so hard to be understanding, and do what's best. I always believed that it was better to die than to live a life of suffering. So I'm a hypocrit to my own beliefs, sitting here suffering every day because: even though mankind can cure cancer, replace failing vital organs, and even do brain surgury, we can't fix less deadly things like asthma and allergies. And yes, I've been on almost every medication out there and I've had 2 surguries in the span of 4 years, so it's not like I'm not trying my hardest. I'm a living contradiction to survival of the fittest, too fucking cowardly and filled with false hope to even put myself out of my own misery.
So next time you're feeling down, remember that things could be worse. There are fates that are worse than death. There are people who suffer every day, regretting the decisions they've made in the past. If you have your health, don't waste it on drugs and cigarettes. Some people would kill to be given the chance to be healthy, and you don't know who's life you're ruining by blowing smoke in their face. (Also metaphorically speaking.) My only hope at this point is that I can write a few books that become popular, since writing is the only thing I can do well at this point. I want to leave a mark on the world before my health finally gets the better of me. It's a rough life. Make the most of it while you can. Most people can't understand that until they've looked death in the face. Your own fear reflecting back at you is a powerful motivator.
