Living That Blanket Burrito Life

What can I say about fibromyalgia that hasn’t already been said about a thousand times here on my blog?

  • Um, it’s worse in the winter.
  • It doesn’t like it when I overdo the things.
  • It always catches up to me, every single time.
  • It’ll make me so exhausted that I’ll end up missing an entire day or two, just sleeping.
  • Once the fatigue is back to some kind of normal, then the pain steps in and takes over.

I wrap myself into a human burrito and rest, layer my medications and wait until I’m back to my normal self, which isn’t all that great to begin with, really, but at least I can do the things that I want and need to do again.


I live for my good days.

On my bad days, I cry, pray and remind myself that this too shall pass.

I try extremely hard nowadays to allow myself to feel my emotions instead of ignoring them. It’s alright for me to feel angry, sad, frightened and disgusted. When I face my inner feelings and thoughts, it’s only then that I can take my power back.

My boyfriend has seen me at my worst and he’s still here, by gum. (An euphemism for the archaic “by God.”)

This morning before he went to work, he stopped by because he read that pineapple was good for inflammation (fresh cut by him) and then he also brought me a pepperoni chop flat bread that they make at the bakery he works at. After work, he’s picking up my pills at the pharmacy.

Between Steven, my daughter Brooke and my neighbor Dave, I am well taken care of on the days when I am suffering from this hell-beast disease that is called fibromyalgia. It’s a wonderful feeling knowing that the ones who care for me aren’t doing it just so that they can take advantage of my illnesses for their own personal gain, like some asshat that we all know and despise.

I’ll be filing for divorce within the next month. Then I can finally be truly free of that waste of sperm.

Oh and guess what? For those of you living in the states, spring is only 40 days away.


I Am Not Broken

I’d taken to telling everyone and thinking of myself as a broken doll that needed super glue (the mega pricey kind) to fix.

I’d say to my boyfriend, hey honey, I’m broken and basically worthless now, so how could you love someone like me?

I received two gentle ear tugs for that.

Going through life with this sort of thinking is fucking miserable.

Then I realized after much thought, solitude and reading about trauma (especially of the domestic abuse kind) that what I was actually in need of was spiritual and emotional healing.


The people who hurt me, those are the ones who need fixing, not me.

Because I am not broken.

Repeat that to yourself if you feel the desire.

I Am Not Broken.

I’m doubtful that anyone would willfully go into an abusive relationship, but once you find yourself stuck in one (and don’t even realize it!) it’s sincerely fucking difficult to find your way out.

I had honed my survival skills in order to function and then out of nowhere, I got hit with a life-changing whammy. The man who had sworn to love and protect me was a lying, cheating sack of perverted shit and I had been totally duped.

My bad.

My wounds will heal and scar over. Because I’m human, I will periodically pick at them.

He had done his best to do me harm and destroy me, but you see, it is he who is the broken one, for only the truly fractured purposely hurt the ones that they claim to love.

I’m not on any sort of high horse. I realize that this process of healing will be time-consuming and there’s an excellent chance that my wounds will often become infected.

But I’m hellbent on changing my perspective.

Still Nuttier Than A Squirrel Turd

I’ve missed me.

I mean being Mer…you know, over here on this ancient ass blog.

Starting a new blog was exciting and I’ll be honest with you, it’s pretty fucking great being anonymous. It was sort of like drinking wine out of a Pringles can while tooting around a Walmart parking lot on a zippy cart.

Freedom, bitches.

And I’m pretty sure that I’ll be keeping the new blog, but I put my heart and soul into this blog for six long years. To keep it private felt like the right thing to do back in November, but I’ve since decided to reopen it again.

Emotions, right?

I’m hanging in there. Happy in love, probably for the first time in my life.


I took my sweetheart out for his birthday on January 4th.

I’m still nuttier than a squirrel turd, still a chronic pain warrior (with a 101 bowling average using my 6 pound ball) who continues to swipe daily at my dark, icky thoughts. I’m still me, but I’ve changed so much.

That isn’t a bad thing, though.

I’ve missed this place and I’ve missed you guys.