coffeebarconfessions

Last night I was hell bent and determined to get to bed before 2AM. Although it's not even Valentine's day yet, Phoenix is already warming up. This winter had me on a luxurious "sleep until 11AM and still walk or run with the dogs five days a week" schedule. It's been stressing me out horribly, to know if I want to keep up the exercise I have to get my routine turned around, or come April's 100 degree heat all my progress will melt away into utter oblivion. Of course good intention always has to marinade for a while with me, before motivation to change my evil ways finally sets in. In other words, I'm remarkably skilled at procrastinating until the very last minute that I am staring failure in the face. That's often, not always, but often when I will get my act together. So of course I try to go to bed early last night so I can get up before noon and exercise before it's too hot and...can't sleep. By 3:30AM I gave up and started writing this bl

For a long four months things seemed to be getting better. At first it was very hard to halt the chariot of destruction in my life. It took continued re-routing, self pep-talks and blatant scare tactics, but I somehow convinced myself that my reaction to life was my choice. That admission affirmed tantrums, meltdowns and anxiety freak-outs were now obsolete, since to choose to behave that way is simply insane. I reached new levels of health under this fragile new government of myself. Things were going swimmingly over here, in positive attitude land. And then one day the rage came back. Was it inevitable? Is it impossible to simply do away with the emotional reaction to my life's circumstances by just not thinking about it? It worked for a while, why did it stop? Because I had a health issue rear its ugly head? Or does part of this inter-related world of weird illness encompass the rage? Quite frankly, I could sit here all day and ask chicken or egg questions, and never get an answ

...with a heaping side of anger. That pretty much describes my state of mind right now. It's amazing, how quickly four months of determined progress got swept away in the blink of an eye. I'm still not quite sure how it happened. It started with a scaly rash on my forehead. Then the boil appeared between my nose and eye. Then another boil. Then an itchy, swollen eyelid, which quickly turned into two lizard-textured ocular skin flaps. Four more massive boils appeared on my face and before I knew it, the texture of my skin rivaled puffy, flaking 40-grit sandpaper.  This hostile takeover has taken about a week and a half, but have I seen a doctor yet? When I finally relented and called my dermatologist yesterday the receptionist apologized profusely for not being able to squeeze me in immediately, and recommended I go to urgent care. I suppose when I laughed and told her I have chronic illness and don't get too hyper about health problems, it earned me a "difficult patien