So in January, I had another seizure and now I’m on two anti seizure medications. The new one Vimpat is classified as a Schedule 5 narcotic so now I’m a dopefiend☠️☠️☠️. I’m exaggerating but I’m so damn tired, even more tired than I was before. My vision is blurry, my balance is off. In layman terms, I’m fucked up but no one gives a fuck. I had plans to attend a concert tonight that I paid for in December but physically, I wasn’t up to it. I have insurance on the ticket so I will get my money back eventually but I’m pissed. At this stage in my life, I thought I would be somewhere with a drink in my hand and my ass tooted up in the air but nah. I’m in the bed on the weekends with a cat. Who had the audacity to beat my ass a few weeks ago because I went out for a few hours.
No one understands the strength it takes me to deal with this medication. The amount of willpower it takes me to get out the bed four to five days a week to go to work. To keep from falling asleep while working. To merely exist in a culture that has a profound contempt for the disabled. Especially if you are a Black fat woman.
Epilepsy is a hidden disability meaning that the average person who sees me will never know that I’m an epileptic. So people don’t take my disability seriously at all. I had to snap out on my supervisor for asking me to do some work that my reasonable accommodation paperwork clearly states that I can’t do. Man I let that bitch have it without saying one cuss word. She hasn’t asked me to do anything else that’s not in my scope but her stanking ass won’t give me the work that I do very well which is responding to customers emails. Out of complete spite and stupidity. I will never understand why some women treat other women like shit but will kiss the crack of the ass of the man who they are currently fucking but treats them like dirt.
I made a reminder for me to blog once a week on Sundays and I’ve only done it a few times. Partly because my energy levels are in the gutter but I’ve also realized that my niche is not particularly popular so I’ve been like “fuck it why bother?” People aren’t that bright and only care about superficial shit like no talent reality television “stars” and relationships. Do I sound bitter? Yep and so what? I have the right to be upset about being a great writer who can’t get on in a culture that rewards mediocrity. Hell yeah.
So for those who happen to read this, I just wanted to ramble for a little bit. I might blog Sunday but more than likely, I will be in the bed with my cat. Such is the life of a middle aged epileptic.
The Potty Mouth Granny 