xylophones & pinwheels

butyoudontlooksick:

It may seem petty to some, but I think one of the most frustrating things I have encountered since being diagnosed is how being sick affects having a normal romantic relationship. To those of my followers who have significant others who are there for them and are supportive and understanding, you don’t know how lucky you are. Well, maybe you do, and if you do, don’t ever take it for granted.

Being single when you’re sick is sometimes a blessing. I have so many people worrying about me that having one less person hovering can be a good thing sometimes. On the flip side though, when you’re not at your best, You can never have too many people looking out for you. As long as they’re the right kind of people though. It’s hard enough to find a decent guy who respects you and shares your interests, but can you imagine how much harder it world be to find that person when your half of your normal self?

The bottom line is that when you are sick, and you know you’re facing a lifetime of trial and turbulence. It’s going to be a rough road for not only you, but for anyone who chooses to stand by your side through it all. If you’re lucky, you already had someone by your side when you got sick. And maybe it wasn’t easy for them in the beginning but they’ll adjust with you and you’ll learn to fight it together. But what happens if you’re single when you get sick? From that point forward, anyone you date has to make the decision to be with you throughout that. It’s easier to go through this with someone you already love. Not everyone will choose to love you despite everything they will have to face.

Ultimately, when you’re sick and looking for love, your list of qualities you look for in another person change drastically. It’s no longer important to you if they like to travel or like going to the same concerts as you. What is important to you is will they love your dog enough to come take him for a walk when you hurt too much to do it yourself. You want someone who will come sit on the couch with you and let you fall asleep with your head in their lap while they run their fingers through your hair even though it’s falling out. You want someone who will take the day off work to go to your doctors appointments with you. Someone who is strong enough to carry you when you are too weak. Someone who is soft enough to admit to you when they are scared too.

I said earlier that people who already had someone when they got sick are lucky. But I think the ones who find someone who chooses to be with them even though they are already sick are even luckier.

I’m reblogging this here because my girlfriend doesn’t know this name and it’s something that really fucking hits home.

We met on tumblr and we’re long-distance. I go on long angry rants on my blog about the various complications of my rheumatoid arthritis, and she comments sympathetically and tells me how much she wishes she were there to hold my hand and hug me and make me soup and whatever. And while I appreciate that—I do, I love her, and I wish she could be here for me—part of me is glad she isn’t. Part of me is glad she doesn’t have to see the way my hands get stuck in awful, deformed claws, the way I stumble around awkwardly and run into things and leave class halfway through because sitting still for an hour-plus is so hard on my hips and back that either I have to get up and go lie down or I’m going to start crying. Part of me is glad she doesn’t have to see me when the side effects of my methotrexate are making me sick, when I scream in pain and frustration from my Enbrel injections, when I curl into bed and just cry because I hate all of this so much. When people say but you’re so young! and instead of laughing and agreeing I get this weird look on my face because I’m trying so hard not to break down—I hate being reminded that yes, I’m way too young for this shit.

So even though I want her to be here, even though my greatest wish is to be with her, I don’t want to subject her to this. At least, not yet. We won’t be able to see each other for another nine months, at least, and by then… I don’t know.

And it doesn’t help that most of the time, I’m worried about her.

consenthousecat:

• Every time I am in public and I hear a man chide a woman on her use of profanity: I get even angrier when I hear men say, “Don’t you know any other words” or “That’s not very ladylike.” First, equating profanity to sub-par intelligence is just insulting and frankly elitist. Intelligent people swear. Second, any woman has the right to define for herself her own relationship to her womanhood. She has the right to build for herself her own femininity. Period. She doesn’t need some man telling her what is or isn’t “ladylike.”
• Street Harassment: I saw this with a lot more frequency when I was living in Baltimore, but I’ve seen it or heard about it once or twice in Southern California too. In Baltimore, one particularly bad instance of it happened when I was walking home from a bar. I was a block away from my apartment, when this guy drove up beside me, said, “Baby, I love you” then mimed for me his (lack of) cunnilingual skill. In Los Angeles, a good friend of mine was driving home from her teaching job, and on the freeway, a truck driver pulled up beside her car and held up a piece of paper with his phone number accompanied by an amateur sketch of what (he thinks) his junk looks like.  This shit isn’t flattering. This shit isn’t going to get you laid. In fact, doing this shit might one day get some very hot beverage “accidentally” spilled on your junk. Just saying.

Yeah, so I’m never really here anymore. I did this weird attempt to be someone else and get away from my shitty life and… my life just got shittier. Because apparently that’s what happens.

On June 14, I got in to see an orthopedic doctor about my problems with my right hand. I’ve had hand and wrist problems before, mostly cysts. I figured that’s what this is, though it’s massive and wraps around my hand and presses on nerves and shoots pain up my wrist. My left hand is also sore and annoying, but not as bad. The doctor said it was very strange, and asked if I had any other joint pain. Which, yes. Constantly. But I figured it was all in my head, or I was overreacting, because I’m 21. I’ve had issues since my mid-teens at least, and what teenager has random joint pain? The doctor sent me for blood tests and an MRI. He wanted to rule out rheumatoid arthritis, an autoimmune condition where, basically, your immune system attacks your joints. Yay.

(dude also gave me vicodin. It barely takes the edge off, but that’s significant enough that I’m willing to deal with all the other nasty shit it does, like make me feel miserably nauseous, spacey, itchy, and otherwise crappy)

I got the results last Tuesday, on June 21. My right hand does not have a cyst; it’s just all inflamed and fluid-filled and rather nasty, and will probably be treated with drugs. It’s pretty much certain I have RA, though I need to see a rheumatologist to get diagnosed and to get drugs. The rheumatologist I’m going to see gets back from vacation or wherever tomorrow, and she’ll let us know if she can take me on.

Meanwhile I’ve been depressed and stressed and in even more pain, probably because of the stress. I’m vacillating between being pissed and crying my eyes out and… it’s just generally not good. So yeah. That’s where I am.

Edit: I’m also stuck driving my brother to and from work and school because he finally got his license revoked. (Though he does pay me. So there’s that, sort of)

(Source: misha-collins, via starfledgling)

… and you should’ve transfered a year ago, but didn’t.

Is it too late?

(Source: collegeproblems)

hitodeman:

I knew I’d seen that smile before. I knew it.

ALSDJFASDFF

(via fuckyeahdeancas)

fuckyeahdestiel:

that awkward moment where an RP shatters your heart into pieces

crying forever

you guys are seriously amazing

(Source: frecklesandwings)

mariephantomhive:

Well, am I the only one who noticed that? Every time they’ve to save someone’s ass, Cas comes first for Dean, and Dean comes first for Cas. Dean chooses to help him, before his own brother and almost-dad. You could say ”It’s because Dean knows Sam can do it himself”, I say it’s irrelevant, ‘cause Cas is an angel (you ass LOL) and he’d be able to do it himself too. The only valid argument here is, Cas and Dean love each other. Romantically or not, they care. A lot.

(via fuckyeahdeancas)

(via chouette-e)

theoneinthedirtytrenchcoat:

a-place-called-gallifrey:

It’ll be alright, just breathe. <3 <3

Love,

The Doctor Who Fandom

<3

(Source: toriandrelativedimensionsinspace, via starfledgling)