You should know that this post is a confessional. I’m going raw here, folks, and it’s going to be uncomfortable for me. But this is like therapy right now and I have to let the words out. I have to make them real. No editing as per usual. I’m just going with the flow here.

Comments are closed. You’ve been warned.

I’ve found my music again. I didn’t know it was gone for a long time. I didn’t miss it. But when I found it again I became obsessed. I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t get enough. Right now I’ve got Black Lab’s “Gone” blaring from the music machine¹. It’s a beautiful song². I forgot that part of me.

I always had music. “Jen’s Life: The Soundtrack”, I called it. Lots of little mix tapes. And then CDs. I could always find just the right ones to go with whatever situation I was in at the time. Then I stopped doing that. Stopped listening to it and craving it. Until a couple of weeks ago when that part of my soul seemed to break free. I started searching for music. This time it’s “Gone”, “This Night” (Black Lab) and “Familiar Taste of Poison” (Halestorm) at the top of my soundtrack.

I tried. I really tried. I put my self in a box and buried her somewhere she couldn’t escape. I tried to be normal, do normal things, think normal thoughts. I made promises in the early part of January 2009 and, fuck me, I kept them. I took vows and I was holding up my end of the fucking bargain. I stopped socializing again, shut off the music and accepted that this was my life and I was making a valiant goddamned sacrifice for my children. I stifled myself because I thought I deserved it. That part of me was horrible, selfish and wild. She hurt people, including herself. She burned bridges and made enemies. She had to go. He didn’t love her anyway. Stuff her in the box and forget about her. We were better off that way.

I thought I needed a knight-in-shining-armor and he thought he could “fix” me. I was somewhere really dark and I needed saving. I thought it was the right thing to do. I tried so hard to let him shape me into what he wanted. I fought against it sometimes, but mostly I allowed him to mold me into someone so different that anyone who knew me and loved me couldn’t even recognize me. “Why him, Jen?” they asked. “Better than the alternative,” I’d say,”and I love him.” Didn’t like the tattoo, the clothes, the music, the writing, the friends…changed it all. Because I promised them I would. I’d try to open up to him, but he didn’t like that. Too much of her still left in me. So, I closed off my history to him. No sharing secrets with him. Shared them on the blog. Shared them with strangers because he didn’t really love me enough to want to know me.

I had an out when he cheated on me. Could’ve let her have him and been done with it. But it wasn’t right. “Think of the Lil’lady!” So, I did. Didn’t want to struggle with her like I did with Lil’ Miss. Wanted her to have a better life. A normal life. Brought out the box just long enough to make sure he came back. Needed her to be able to do what I did, afterall. I honestly thought, though, that it would be different. I would be more like he wanted me to be and he would… I believed that. I believed I had to make it work. Pushed her back in the box and locked her back up. It was the “right” thing to do. Even my counselor, Goddess bless her, wondered if I’d made the right choice. Of course I did, I told her, I’m good at this shit. Heh.

That box wasn’t secure though. That part of me would peek out every so often. I put the car in my own name. Kept my own bank account. Kept with my schooling. He’d try to convince me otherwise, of course. Didn’t need a separate account, he said. Don’t need the car in your name, he whined. I didn’t listen to that. Not after what he did to me. Some things I’d give in, but that part of me wouldn’t give up total independence. I kept trying to be what he wanted, though, and I failed miserably. It was pitiful, really. He pulled away again and it didn’t even take 3 months for things to start going back to the way they were.

We’ve only been intimate 3 times since he got back. And it stopped completely 15 months ago. Not that I didn’t try that too. But he pushed me away one too many times. Physically pushed me away. Didn’t want me to touch him. So I didn’t. And for a while I accepted that this was how it was supposed to be. I settled for that because I deserved it. God, I was so lonely.

It started when he took me to his “club” and I had a few beers. I got up to dance with an old (as in 65+ years old) lady. We were having fun and I was thoroughly enjoying the music. He got irritated and decided it was time to go. Then he told me I was “fucking embarrassing” and that my laugh “is goddamned irritating”. Nice.

Then on my birthday he said something that sparked that part of me that I had so willingly given up. “I’m not going to buy you anything because I don’t know what you like.”

What. The. Fuck.

Eight motherfucking years I gave to this person. This man who did not even bother to get to know me. This person for whom I’d sacrificed everything that I am. It was worse than forgetting my birthday. It was worse than him picking out the wrong color or the wrong size or the wrong brand. He was so nonchalant about it. As if it was nothing. That’s when it started. That’s when she started fighting me to get out. She started screaming and burning and begging to be let out. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Not anymore.

I didn’t know it right away. But I could feel it. Just a little bit crazy coming on. My thoughts kept going over our history and how I could fix it. I promised. Everything was forgotten then. I didn’t work. Didn’t talk to anyone. I walled myself off completely from the world. I knew this wasn’t right anymore, but I wanted so much to fix it. But it didn’t take long before he committed one last crime against me and who I am.

Lil’ Miss was in the ER. Her grandmother called me to tell me she was bleeding really bad and that she needed me. She’d been living in another town and I didn’t know she was sick. We don’t speak much anymore. My fault, of course, because he wanted it that way. So, I told him “She’s in the hospital and I’ve got to go”. His response was too much for me. “Why isn’t her boyfriend with her?”

I didn’t tell him who was or wasn’t with her. For all he knew her boyfriend was with her. No, he didn’t want me to go. Thought she wasn’t worth it. I told him “She wants her mother” and then I left. No more fighting. No more trying to convince him of anything– trying to salve his hurt feelings. I went to be with my child and I spent two days with her up there. I was so scared for her. And he didn’t even bother to call to see what was going on.

Eight fucking years.

Then I stopped sleeping and I started craving the music. I went 40 hours with no sleep and then only slept 3-4 hours a day. I was crawling out of my skin and couldn’t figure out why. I had so much energy and just felt like I was caged. I don’t think I’d ever realized what “high strung” really meant until these last couple of weeks. How is it even possible for someone’s nerves to be so raw? I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. That part of me that I thought I didn’t need anymore burst out of her box and took over. I gave up. No more. No fucking more.

That feeling is still there. I still can’t sleep, even though I know what I have to do now. I’ve got too much energy. Too much I feel like I’ve missed, I think. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time on this. I made the decision and it’s only a matter of time. And I can’t fucking wait. Gods, but I’m losing my mind with wanting to get out of here. But I’ve changed more than I realized. I stopped hiding and allowed her to come out. And she’s, pardon the conceit, beautiful and fun and full of life. She’s anxious to get on with it, but I know that I’ve got to wait a bit. I’m not ready yet. Soon, though.

People that have never met this part of me are a little shocked at my “transformation”. At work they say they’ve never seen me smile. They think I’m fun. They like to hear me sing. “What happened to you?” someone asked. I’ve been awakened, whatever that means. No more hiding. Here I am, in all my evil, fucked up glory.

Last weekend I went dancing for the first time in a long time. My friend and her husband took me. They know what’s going on and they know what’s going to happen. It’s been so long since I had so much fun. I even managed to get hit on, which was an unbelievably big ego booster. You don’t miss that stuff until the cute little convenience store clerk tells you that you look really nice and he hopes to see you out. I can’t even tell you when the last time was that he looked at me like that.

I feel like I should feel guilty for starting to move on before I’ve even done it. But I don’t. So I feel a little guilty about not feeling guilty. It’s very strange. But I’m anxious to start living again. In my way. Without the restraints I’ve put on myself. I hated that part of me that I hid away. Hated her so much. But it wasn’t really her that caused me so much grief. I was in a cycle and made decisions based on what I learned from my mother. I know that now. And I know I can do better now. I’m better equipped now. I’m not the least bit afraid of myself anymore.

(To Be Continued)

1. Not a stereo. He says we don’t need one of those.
2. Check out my blip.fm if you’ve not heard it

Related posts:

1. Guilt trips don’t work
2. No more Ms. Nice Gal

I forgot to get my prescription refilled and so now I can’t sleep. So I’ve been trying to find something to keep me occupied without causing me to get really depressed at having to deal with tomorrow without sleep¹. As such I’ve decided to blog. Please keep in mind that this will be a rambling post and probably won’t have any flow. Pretty normal for me, huh?

I finally got a laptop. What? I bought a new desktop last year (and it still rocks socks) but I thought I needed a laptop. Obviously I also needed a router. So I got one that would allow me to sit in my yard and surf the toobs. Of course, because I’m going to be going out into the yard I had to get the warranty that covers drops and spills. And, well, I had to have that fancy wireless mouse. Wheeeee!!!!!!!! That was quite a chunk of change².

Speaking of work, Vince gave me some feedback on the site³ and I’ve decided to make some changes. And I did. It’s looks pretty good, actually. I’ve got some weird ideas, I think, but I like being able to play around with it. I added some funky buttons and a jQuery video slider so, um, yeah, it’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t necessarily call it the most bomb-diggity site ever, but it’s getting close.

In similar news, and keeping with the spirit of this blog, I decided to ask Millie what she was paying her designer for her site. Well, Millie assumed I was going to ask her to hire me or some such nonsense and tells me:

My site is more than one page.

No shit. But just in case I’m as idiotic as she must be, she tells me that a couple of more times. OMG!! I can’t do more than one page!! Bleh. Oh, and the best part? There’s apparently stuff on the site I wouldn’t understand. This is where I said:

I’m kinda good at that stuff. And I am in school for this very thing. Graduating in December as a matter of fact.

WTFever, heiffer.

So, she tells me she paid this woman $2000 for her site (Whis is MORE THAN ONE PAGE!!!) and pays her $250 a year for hosting. This is where I was kind of taken aback. Why did she need that kind of money for hosting? I told her that my hosting is just over $100 a year and you could justsee her deflate.

Mwahahaha!!! You got took. How’s it feel? Oh, yeah? Her husband does your computer work? The dude you paid $75 to defrag your hard drive? Hahaha!! Still a dummy I see. Pssst. I could’ve done that for you for free but who am I? Just the mother of your only grandchild and the wife of your only child.

Sorry, where was I? Oh… So, she’s starts again telling me why I’m not qualified to do her website (meh) when I tell her I’m just trying to learn pricing structures. I don’t want to work for her (meh). So she tells me this chick charges her $30-40 to change an image on the site and for other changing other types of information. Really? Well, of course I’m intrigued. Changing an image is was easy, right? What’s it take? About 35 seconds (if you’re not waiting for the image to upload)? This is sounding good to me. And I find it hilarious that she could be helping her daughter-in-law enlarge her portfolio for a fraction of that, but is insisting I’m too stupid to breathe.

So, I break out my laptop and show her friend the new site I just did. Her friend is impressed but Millie isn’t interested. I told you– HEIFFER. That’s ok. I go on to say that I’m going to undercut the competition and try to offer the same kinds of services for not quite so much. Her friend doesn’t realize that Millie is a heiffer and agrees with me that I had a good idea. We’re talking about my business goals but Millie will have none of it and declared the conversation boring. Ha! Who doesn’t hate being shown how they’ve been taken straight to the cleaners? Sucks to be her.

Then TheMan and I come home and I go to Millie’s site so I can get the link to her designer’s site. First, her site sucks donkey turds⁴. I looked at the source page and it was built with Microsoft FrontPage 2005 with all inline styles that are, get this, capitalized. Anyone who knows W3C standards knows that CSS is preferred and tags should be lowercase. Ahem. Anyway, with my browser, which is 1300+/- wide, her site floats to the left. The images are pixelated and there are typos.

Can I laugh again? Hahahaha!!!

So, I click on the link at the bottom of the page and get… a “This Domain for Sale”. No shit. Pffft.

$2000 for a site that is not standards compliant, was built in FrontPage and is just not attractive (seriously, no :hover affect? REALLY?) isn’t really something to laugh at. I applaud chick for getting money for that stuff. Here I am working hard to learn the code and to make it as compliant and semantic as I can and here I could’ve built that shit in Expression Web and been done with it. Another Pffft.

My friend told me not to take Millie’s insults personally, but I did. And so laughing at the result of that $2k makes me feel better. She didn’t even look at what I can do. Didn’t even give my skills a second thought. So, I’m going to build her a brand new site with beautiful graphics that will resize with different browsers. Then I’m going to show it to her. And then I’m going to tell her she can’t have it.

Because I really am that spiteful. ;P

TheMan’s dad says his VFW commander may need a site and is going to give him my name. He’s also going to let me build him a personal site so I can build my portfolio. That’s nice. I’m glad part of my inlaw family isn’t off the deep end. I told him he will be blessed with awesome Karma– but not until I actually get the work. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Oh, and I’m over my ill feelings toward Millie now. I feel better after a good rant.

1. Holy flare, bat person!!
2. Just under $1k) but thankfully George Soros/Rahm Emanuel finally sent out those refunds shill checks and I was able to swing it. I’m going to use the laptop primarily for work, though, so hopefully I’ll be able to write that off next year.

   At any rate, I’ve finally joined the 21st century with this particular acquisition. My next planned big work purchase is Adobe Creative Suite 4 for students– at a big $349. Oh yeah. That’s way cheap. I’m saving up for that mother. When I start school again in the fall I should be able to buy one of the school’s old systems and stick that bad boy on that. Then I’ll be able to get rid of that old one finally. I’m thinking of giving the old one to my little sister as she’s taking Graphic Design in her high school and can’t afford a PS on her own. Considering the fact that her school sucks I’m going to teach her how to use it too. Then I might hire her ((That’s me wishing for lots of work and tons of money.

3. Which I can’t link to from here, but that’s ok
4. I’m trying sooo hard not to cuss

Related posts:

1. This sucks
2. With Friends Like This…
3. Blah humbug

I haven’t written a school post yet this semester. I am, indeed, slacking. Honestly, though, I’ve only got one week under my belt so it’s not quite that bad.

I’m done with my maths. Did I mention I passed Trig? Oh, yes. But now that I’m done with those courses, I don’t get to see Professor SexyPants anymore. This is sad, but we must all move on. We can’t dwell on the negative, people! Buck up and all that jazz.

Now I’m working on the final 6 courses for my AAB–which I’ll finally have next December¹. This semester is going to be interesting because I get to break work on Windows Servers and cool ass websites (again!!). I’m also taking College Writing as my cake course this semester. Hahaha! Or so I thought.

Want to hear a funny? We were having a discussion on cultural stereotypes and how advertising drives those. The one ad we were critiquing had a dude in outdoorsie clothes, in the woods, getting ready to board a hydroplane. The ad said “Are you ready for Adventure?” Now, my first thought was that it was either very homoerotic (considering the adventure wording and the dude’s facial expression) or it was a dude getting ready to do some kickass adventure stuff in his plane. Apparently I’m stupid, because I was way off (according to my professor– who is very odd and not at all sexy).

Most of the class decided that the ad was aimed at wealthy men or women because dude had a compass on his watch. Apparently these are very expensive. I dunno. He also was walking toward this plane. The ad mentioned “lemon zest” and “sparkling grapefruit” so I’m thinking dude is in Florida and getting ready to take some folks on a jaunt to the Caribbean². But the rest of the class thought it was an elitist ad, mostly because that’s the way the professor led them.

The problem for me came when I tried to explain my train of thought. If you ever experience fibrofog, don’t ever do this. Ever. I had the worst case of tip-of-the-tongue I have ever had. I couldn’t find the right words to save my life. Someone in the back laughed at me³ and the professor just kind of cocked an eyebrow in my general direction. But did I stop? Hell to the no. Of course mortal humiliation isn’t going to shut me up.

So, I tried to explain why I thought Adventure Dude was going to hop down to the islands for some fun in the sun. That reinforced their idea that he’s elitist. I couldn’t articulate that I thought drug running was actually the way he made his moolah. I mean, seriously? They couldn’t see that? Don’t these people watch “Burn Notice” or old episodes of “Miami Vice”? Sheesh.

Then we’re discussing another ad. This one is stark white, with black lettering that says “YourSpace”. There’s a vehicle of some sort pictured (it’s green) and some shit at the bottom. What stood out to me about the ad was the text at the bottom which included “when a homepage just isn’t enough”. Hello! Not only did they play on “MySpace”⁴ but they added to that internet based language. Did anyone pick up on that? No. And the professor, God bless him, insisted that the “YourSpace” meant that there was enough space in the vehicle to have an enjoyable ride.

Of course I tried to explain to him that maybe parents would be interested in getting their kids off of MySpace or FaceBook and their texting paraphernalia, but he didn’t get it. Did he miss the age of the Intertoobs? Apparently. I bet if I brought up Ceiling Cat he’d look at me like I had a big old booger hanging from my nose. Of course, ye old T.o.t.T struck again and I looked like a complete and utter idiot. That didn’t stop me though. I’m pretty sure my new Prof hates my brain-damaged guts. I guess I wouldn’t blame him. I mean, I did sound like I’d been hitting the tequila way too hard.

Now for a little whine: it’s fucking frustrating to be want to participate in the conversation and explain why his outdated ideas are all kinds of fuckered up but not be able to do that. I wanted to come home and just sew my own damned lips shut. Humiliation is not a strong enough word for what I felt when I left that class. What’s the point of having a brain but not being able to use it. I’d live with 100x the pain of this god-forsaken disease if I could just get rid of the fucking fog. Fibrofog may not seem serious to anyone else, but it’s pretty much driving me over the edge.

I’ll have to remind myself to shut the fuck up on Tuesday. Really. I mean, the man did say to let someone else talk for a while. I don’t blame him. I’d kick my ass out of the class if I was him.

And so ends my first school sucks post of the semester.

Peace, love and lollipops.

1. I’d have that motherfucker this May if it weren’t for some dude cheating on my ass, but that’s water under the bridge, yes?
2. For some killer smoke, of course, but I didn’t bring that up.
3. Which caused me to glare at them as a mother would at her disrespectful child.
4. Double fucking Dur

Related posts:

1. English As A Second Language
2. Bill sucks and Kirk is a Pagan
3. And Now I Whine About School

**Note: I have a small Fibro fog issue today, so please excuse any typos as I don’t feel like waiting to write this.**

Wanna hear read a funny? Remember when they were trying to decide if I had cancer¹? Well, last week I got a letter from my insurance company. It reads, in part:

We are in receipt of a claim for the above referenced patient. In order to determine if a pre-existing exclusion applies to these services, we require additional information.
[...]Date Span: 11/07/2008-5/07/2009
1. Did the patient have medical coverage for the date span above?
YES ____ NO ____
2. If yes, please submit evidence of coverage (a certificate of prior coverage from the prior insurance carrier or a letter from the prior carrier with dates and types of coverage held.)
3. If no, please complete the attached questionnaire.

[Stuff that's unimportant to this post.]

When I got the letter, I called the insurance company to see what I should check. I had insurance until March 20, 2009. Since I was only uncovered for a little over a month I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I was told to check option #1 and fill out the questionnaire. Crap. I didn’t know what claim was being potentially denied nor could I remember all of my doctor’s appointments. I knew, since this was the period where my marital status was up in the air, that I hadn’t seen my rheumy, but what about the others?

So, I called all my doctors. You’d think they’d want me to pay them for the dates of service, but they were pretty understanding. I had only been to the doctor for my ganglion cyst (did I even mention that on my blog?). I couldn’t get a hold of my Gyn until today and guess what? Hadn’t been there during that time period either!! Woo-hoo! Take that, coverage denying fuckers.

Of course, they’ll probably deny it anyway. Even though I didn’t go without coverage for a full 63 days, this particular insurance company is so sucky they’ve reportedly told one patient they hoped they didn’t die when they denied cancer treatments for that patient². Meh.

1. I don’t, thank all that’s good and holy. And, yes, I will repeat that every time I bring it up.
2. Which is the fault of both the insurance company AND the doctor, if you ask me. Why couldn’t the doctor lower the costs and take payments for something that dire? HUH?

Related posts:

1. Because I Have a Pre-Existing Condition
2. Yes, I am Selfish
3. Take that, Poor America!

I was working on a post laughing at people contacting me (via my contact page) asking me to put links up for them¹, but then I see yet again idiot progressives bitching and moaning about one of the Health Care Reform bills. These folks, in case you’re not watching, have been dubbed the “bill-killers” because they’d rather see us get nothing — which leaves us exactly where we are — than to see us get something.

They don’t care about the people who will benefit from the ban on pre-existing condition exclusions or annual limits, of course. They wave away stories from real people about how either one of these bills would be helpful. It’s not helpful to them (they claim) and so they don’t want it. That’s not progressive, Jim Bob, that’s picking a goddamned scab over the pain of a 2008 loss. Or just a way to follow the piper, who is playing that tune to get page views and up her advertising dollars². Someone who is so desperate for Obama to fail is jumping into bed with that uber-liberal Norquist (hahaha!!) and feeding hapless followers lies and distortion.

A lie, for instance, claiming this MSNBC article is saying that Obama is going to exclude the employer mandate– though they claim any mandate is bad, but are outraged because of this– and the fucking article doesn’t say any such thing. I triple dog dare you to read that article and come back to tell me where it says Obama is going to eliminate the employer mandate.

I’d also like to add that Jon Walker has since changed the link in the article to point to a more favorable Yahoo! article. Oops. But, let’s examine the Yahoo! article– especially the part which says:

Instead of requiring employers to offer health coverage, the Senate bill penalized businesses if any of their workers obtained government-subsidized health care.

Do you know how the federal has convinced states to pass speed limits, seat belt laws, automobile insurance mandates and drunk driving laws? They’ve penalized the states by refusing to award them highway funding. No, the federal government didn’t say “You’d better do this now!” Instead they said “No, you don’t have to do this, but if you don’t do this you get no money from us.”

Holy shitballs! Only the most hard-headed of libertarian (or contrarian) legislatures refused. They didn’t get their highway money. You know what?

This is the same sort of thing.

Federal government: You don’t have to buy insurance for your employees, but if you don’t you’ll have to pay a penalty for your employees who get federal money to help buy their own.

Employer: Fine. I’m not gonna buy it. Bite me.

Federal government: 75 of your employees get subsidies and/or qualify for Medicaid– fork over the money, bumble wad.

Employer: Fuck. Might as well get them something.

Same fucking thing. See how that works? It’s called strong arming. Happens all the time. But don’t let that fact get in the way of your attempt to derail all things Obama (Hail, Grover Norquist!!!).

But wait! There’s more! These are the same people that were pissed that there was any mandate and now their throwing a collective fit because there might be less of a employer mandate– or at least employer mandate with different language. The cognitive dissonance is clogging up my brain. Help!

Of course, they’re pissed because there will be an excise tax on insurance policies that are worth so much a year– but only over that certain amount ($23k as of right now). Those are the ones, apparently, negotiated by the labor unions for their members. I don’t know what is covered by these plans, or any of their benefits. I don’t even know how I feel about it. But someone on Daily Kos made a point (in one of the posts by someone pissed off that Obama was elected, no doubt).

What would have happened were the union able to forgo the negotiations for health insurance and, instead, negotiated for higher wages? The argument being that with more restrictions on health care, there wouldn’t have been a need for the higher-cost plans as they’re benefits would’ve been excessive (or some such nonsense) and something cheaper would have been just as good. The argument went that the unions would have negotiated for pay raises instead which would have been taxed as income. Would that have been just as bad?

Guess if it was implemented under Obama it would have been. For some of these people Obama is just as bad as Bush. HE LEFT HIS LIBERAL ROOTS!!!!extra, triple super-duper exclamation point with a side of eleventy!!³

I hate moving of the goal posts just as much as I hate hypocrites. No lie. I mean, if you’re pissed that there’s an individual mandate (that would be subsidized by the government for people who aren’t wealthy) then you should be dancing in the streets and declaring victory if there’s no obvious employer mandate. Right? Of course. Not for the bill-killers.

Besides the fact that is not yet a real bill to oppose (except if you’re opposing both bills), either of them will provide multiple benefits to the people who need them most. Both of them offer immediate relief on the ban on pre-existing conditions and annual/lifetime caps. Bernie Sanders’ proposal of Community Health Centers is the bomb-diggity and will most likely make it through conference. That’s a huge win for people who need health care and can’t afford it under the status quo. But since it’s not the public option– which would only cover at most 7 million people– and/or it’s happening under Obama’s administration as opposed to the Other Clinton’s administration, well, KILL THE BILL. Idiots.

Now, let’s talk about me again⁴.

You’ll remember that TheMan lost our insurance when the randy fucker got laid off from his job last spring⁵. Then I was able to get shit insurance from my job waiting tables⁶. You’ll remember that my shit insurance only covers a total of 5 doctors visits a year (which is an annual cap, if you’re keeping up on that sort of thing). Remember that my shit insurance only pays up to $50 for medications a month (not much really). You’ll also remember that a few years ago I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and, recently, I was tested for uterine cancer (I’m cancer-free). I actually consider myself lucky with my shit insurance because a lot of people don’t even have that. They can’t get a check up and they can’t afford their pain meds.

Well, a couple of days ago I get a letter from my insurance company. They want to know if I was treated for anything between November 2008 and May 2009. Dur, of course I was. They want proof that I had coverage. Well, I went one month and one week without coverage– which was between when TheMan’s coverage lapsed and mine went into effect. I actually hadn’t seen anyone for my FMS during that time, but I did take medication for it. You know what that means? They’re going to deny payment to my new FMS doctor on the basis of my pre-existing conditon. And I won’t be able to see him again under that insurance plan (unless we get a health care bill).

So, TheMan became eligible for his employer insurance again, which made me all kinds of happy. Fuck my crappy insurance, I thought. FUCK them straight up the ass with a red-hot poker. Then I read the coverage information of this new insurance.

No coverage for pre-existing conditions unless there was 1 year of aggregate coverage prior to the first date of coverage (or some such shit). There isn’t even a “credit” for the time I’ve had my crappy insurance. Nope, I’ll have to wait until May to get treatment for my condition– if they don’t count my medications as treatment. If they do, well, who knows if they’ll pay for my new doctor?

I’m still fucking screwed.

I can’t go to my new doctor on my own plan until April (or May because they’re moving my active coverage date, apparently) because of annual caps and I can’t get there on my husband’s new plan because of pre-existing condition exclusions. See how that works?

But the fucking bill-killers are happy about that. They want it to stay like that. They’d rather see me go on disability and try to qualify for Medicaid for my condition (which can be debilitating under the right conditions…oh yes…wobbly JJ here!) and give up my measely job and stop being productive. All so they can declare themselves the winner! And, probably, continue to enjoy their own good health and/or health insurance.

Isn’t that nice? And folks wonder why I’m so angry. Honestly, I might feel differently if I wasn’t in so much goddamned pain all the time or I was able to pay my fucking doctors straight out of my pocket. I might be able to stand on principle and ignore the fact that this is an Incremental Change country (and always has been). But that’s not the case with me.

I was so sick yesterday that my mother-in-law took my daughter to school and I slept until 2:30pm. I slept for 15 fucking hours. But that’s all good. People like me should be glad of…something. We shouldn’t want the little bit of change that is offered in either of these bills. We should stand on principle. What happens, though, when the pain in your legs and back is so bad that you can’t stand at all?

Oh! Another story, because you need these stories of my own personal life. My new doctor prescribed me Cymbalta and gave me two weeks worth of samples to try it. Cymbalta is approved for FMS treatment as well as depression (being sidelined by pain can be extremely depressing, I’ll tell ya). Anyway, I took this shit for 2 weeks and went to pick up my prescription. It would cost me $99 with my insurance. Not only that, if I would have been able to scrape that money together I wouldn’t have been able to get my meds refilled this month because that prescription drug cap. So I told the girl to put it back on the shelf. I wasn’t buying it.

Since I was on it for 2 weeks, my body became slightly acclimated to it and I’ve finally started to get the SSRI Discontinuation Syndrome symptoms. Not really bad, mind you, because I wasn’t on it that long. But enough to make my lips feel like I was kissing a cattle prod. Still, it sucks major donkey balls⁷.

The point, of course, is the my FMS expert doctor wanted to start a treatment plan for me, but I couldn’t afford it. Now we’ll have to figure out something else– after I can see him again in April (or May). He wanted me to start physical therapy to learn some very specific exercises (he’s the expert, remember), but I can’t do that either. Annual limits and all that jazz.

You see where I’m going with this? You see why I’m some goddamned invested? Do you see why the bill-killers make me want to gouge my own eyeballs out? Fuck. I’d tell you what it would cost out-of-pocket for me to see my new doctor, but I haven’t even asked his office. I’ve given up hope for that and these motherfucking bill-killers couldn’t care less about what I’m going through (Did I mention crying like a baby when I found out I couldn’t afford my medication?).

And don’t even try to share your story with them. They don’t give two flying fucks. They’re nasty and mean and consider you to be a paid shill for the insurance or pharmaceutical lobby. There’s no way that real people would support this legislation for free of course. None of us are personally invested because our lives suck gigantic dinosaur turds. Nope. We’re all paid.

If I’m getting paid, I want a raise goddamn it. Fuck this not being able to afford the $99 for the meds. If I’m getting money from big insurance to support this shit, then they better pony up some more money. Mama needs some new clothes!! Oh, and if George Soros is still paying pro-Obama bloggers, I want that money too. I’m thinking a sleep number bed would be awesome.

P.S.
I’ll get back to that other post later. I’m waiting to see if I get any new offers to sell my links (money, motherfuckers, makes the world go ’round… or something). If I get some extra traffic I can demand more money, right? Controversy attracts eyeballs, people, don’t forget that and eyeballs equal traffic which equals bigger advertising dollars which equals more and better shoes. Just sayin’.

1. And no one mentioned payment by the way. WTF?
2. Pageviews equal money and, here’s the secret, controversy drives pageviews
3. Except for the whole fact of Obama not being liberal ever in his whole Senate career. Hello! He voted to expand FISA. Dur.
4. I know you’re shocked that I’d do such a thing on my own damned blog, but you’ll get over it.
5. I call that Karma, but whatever.
6. I IZ RICH!!
7. I won’t be going back on that shit even if I can afford it in the future. Fuck that noise.

Related posts:

1. Riding My Pink Pony
2. Yes, I am Selfish
3. Wherein I Lose my Damned Mind