Tag Archives: sickness

You Are What You Read

Eric says I read too many heavy, serious books about mental illness, and that maybe this contributes to my anxiety and hypochondria. So this time I chose one where, yes, the main character DOES have bipolar disorder– BUT he lives a super full, productive life, has a job he loves, is married to the love of his life, has a baby on the way, and takes really good care of himself. While it’s tough for him and his family to grapple with his bipolar disorder, and he often gets knocked down, he always finds his way back, and it’s actually a really inspiring take on living with mental illness. 

His wife dies, though. 

Of cancer. 



Things I Will Say At Work Tomorrow


  • “Yes. This hazmat suit is necessary.” (said to confused principal)
  • “I don’t care that the hazmat suit is scaring you.” (said to kids)
  • “Stop. Hands up. Now twirl!” (said to first kid who enters classroom, who will then be sprayed head to toe in Lysol)
  • “Next! Stop and twirl!” (said to each successive kid)
  • “Wear this.” (said to each kid, while handing them a SARS mask, a fanny pack of hand sanitizer, and a pin that says “BEWARE– I’m disgusting.”)
  • “GO HOMMMMMMMMME!” (said to any kid who sniffles, coughs, or looks even remotely gross. So all of them.)
  • “Throw that out, immediately.” (referring to kid’s shirt, after he wipes his nose on it)
  • “Cut that off, now!” (referring to kid’s arm, after he wipes his nose on it)
  • “Are you SERIOUS?” (referring to kid who wipes¬†his nose on the classroom rug because I HAVE SEEN THIS HAPPEN)
  • “How is this my life?!” (said to God, over and over)
  • <silence> (God, ignoring me. Plotting my next illness.)


Sitting here blowing my nose over and over, I can feel the beginnings of a chapstacheРyou know, when the entire area between your nose and mouth becomes raw and chafed? And this reminds me of a really bad stretch I had, years ago, when I was constantly sick and the chapstache literally lasted three seasons. I was in a relationship at the time, and each night when my boyfriend and I got into bed, in an attempt to heal myself in the sleeping hours, I would dig my entire hand into a huge vat of vaseline and smother it all over my face, making sure to cover all surrounding areas, most importantly my nostrils and chin.

I still can’t figure out why we broke up.