Sorry, I'm not sorry.

   Allow me to get this entry started with - sorry, I'm not sorry. I'm drowning with the thoughts in my head and need to get them out, which I do best when I can write. So, here I am. I'm probably going to offend someone with my viewpoints, and I'm ok with it because this is my space. If you don't like it, feel free to push that little "X" up in the corner of your screen and peace the F out.

   H'ok. For those of you who are still with me and my bitchy mood, hold tight, things may get bumpy and a little hasty.

   As you're likely well aware, I was born with what I like to call my "genetic retardation" (oops, less than 50 words in and I've likely offended 3.4 of you); it's something I've known would be a part of my life since day numero uno. Sure, medical advancements have made living with being "genetically touched" much easier and more manageable over the past 20 or 30 years, but at the end of the day, not being "normal" still plain sucks.

   I have triggers, I have boundaries, I have a list of "I wish I could, but can't"s. I'm aware of it all. I've spent literally my entire life tailoring my being around my limitations. Yes, I'm currently taking a medication that has made my life about a billion times better than it was up until six months ago; however, taking a medication that is delivered via self administered intravenous injections once every three days brings along its own giant closet of proverbial skeletons.

   Some of you who interact with me on a semi-regular basis may wonder why I do some of the things I do...things like carry around a calendar that is literally the size of a MEAD 5 Star notebook - the "Super Schedule" as Luke has so lovingly dubbed it - which contains a year's worth of my life at a time, color coded down to when my bills are due; green for when I work, yellow for anything to do with Luke (work, appointments), blue for my appointments and weekend fun things (basically places I need to be that don't involve work), orange for bills, and pink for birthdays. Or, when I'm at work - I like to arrange specimens in the walk-in refrigerator by size and sample type...everything has a workable pattern. I like my plates (the agar media we plant specimens to in an attempt to grow any bacteria that may be there) to always be in the same, specific order.

   Some people refer to my tendencies as obsessive, which I am the first to admit and will never deny. However, the bigger piece that took me going to a very expensive therapist to realize, understand, and come to terms with - I do these things because I can control them. I'M in charge of the pattern specimens end up in; I'M in charge of arranging the Super Schedule to MY liking, so that the information I need is visually accessible to ME in the best way possible; I constantly plan out my life, and have a hard time adjusting to a change in said plan if I've been looking forward to it, because it's something I AM IN CONTROL OF.

   I have zero control over my HAE. None. I have control over making sure I give myself my medication when I'm supposed to, but I have NO control over how my body will react to any triggers, whether the meds will be enough to counteract the issue, or if I will have an episode of mega uncomfortable swelling due to some asshole trigger my body couldn't handle. I never have had control over it, and I never, ever will. So, I control the aspects of my life that I'm able to in order to compensate and feel like I'm running my life...not some bullshit genetic defect that I was handed when it was my turn to roll the genetic dice.

   People wonder why I'm not religious, why I don't "have faith" in God; I should "lean on God's shoulder, especially given my "situation" and He will guide me through it; He doesn't give you anything you can't handle" - here's where things are gonna get dicey folks, hang tight or feel free to use the aforementioned "X" easy out. A) I was handed a "not-normal" card at day one IN UTERO - which we've covered extensively throughout this post so far, time to get on to the other "fun stuff"; B) I'm a scientist, I'm wired like a scientist, things need to make sense to me in order for me to believe them; C) I'm supposed to believe that there is a single "higher being" that has humanity's best interest at heart - so long as you're a good person in your community, help others, blah blah blah, you'll be rewarded for such..right? Then explain HAE. Explain cancer. Explain MS. Explain the death of my best friend who was the absolute BEST human on the face of the planet.

   I'm a scientist. Science makes sense to me - "I think this, I'm going to show you via this and that, and ta-da! Proof that my thoughts were correct." That's how it works, and to me, it makes sense. You have a thought, you prove it. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Done and done. If you can't prove it, or at least come damned close, I'm gonna have a hard time believing you and your "theories". Show me proof of God, and I'll be the first in line to jump on that band wagon. But...no one can. Sure, there's "The Bible"...I'm sorry, where did this thing come from? Supposedly, this book was formed by all of these guys back around the time ish of Jesus, son of God, who told stories of his life and all that jazz. Ok, cool. This book has been translated HOW many times? And it's a book of what...? Stories, right? Ok. Stories. STORIES. You want me to believe that this is the ONLY book that exists which substantiates all of this "proof" of Jesus and God? ...sorry, I don't buy it. You can't SHOW me God, or even something close to it. Church exists where a single man or woman preaches to you "the word of God" as if they are privy to an understanding only given to select few. Ok, cool. God spoke to you and put you on the life path you're on? Congratulations. Do you know what happens to people who claim they're hearing voices that no one else can? They're put on a psych hold in the hospital and deemed "crazy"...but when it's religious in nature, that makes it a whole other ball game. Why? WHY????

   Putting all of the previous paragraph's rant aside, if God is so wonderful and giving...explain cancer, chronic diseases, and early deaths of people who have done nothing but good in their lives. Explain to me why I have to deal with this genetic condition my whole life, limiting the things I'm physically capable of doing, but some dirtball who beats his wife and kids and is a menace to society gets away with a "normal card" and knows nothing of physical struggle and limitations. Doesn't seem wonderful and loving to me. I don't buy it. It makes zero sense to me, and I just can't wrap my head around it.

   I do need to say this though - IF you are religious and have a healthy relationship with God, I'm honestly truly happy for you. I know plenty of people who's lives are in a much better place because of their faith; I also know people who are still alive today because they have their faith and church to hang on to when times are rough. I will NEVER tell someone they're wrong for being religious and I will never push my lack of belief on to someone else; I just ask that no one try to push their God into my life or tell me I'm wrong for not believing - it won't go over well for you, trust me.

  My thoughts and feelings on the religious matter are my own, and I needed to express my annoyance with the lack of understanding/acceptance I often get when I say "no, I'm not religious, but it's cool on my end if you are."

   I've been handed another uncontrollable addition to my life, and it's really putting my ability to maintain stable to the test. Another aspect of my NEED to control, is a NEED to understand. I can handle most anything, so long as I can have at least a minimal understanding of whatever the situation may be. Some people (like my boyfriend) may not need me to understand an aspect of their life or feelings, but I do. It's how I'm wired, it's how I function, and deal with life.

   Everything has an explanation, a reason. I function best when I can talk and/or write things out - as those of you who have held steady through to this point are witness to. Some people are NOT wired this way in the least little bit...I am. I think a lot of it has to do with how I was raised - my parents always told me that I could tell them anything, and so I did. I've learned that most misunderstandings are just mis-communication, or a lack of explanation. I've also learned that with an explanation, I'm able to understand things, wrap my head around them, make a plan to continue forward, and by killing two birds with one stone, have at least a little control in an otherwise uncontrolled situation.

   Sorry for the short novel tonight, folks...but really, I'm not sorry at all ;)

~Somewhere between always and forever, Chelsea Leigh