Mini-Series of diary 2002
January 8, 2003 (CONT)
It would be nice to find a doctor that will listen to me and diagnosis me correctly, instead assume I am depressed. I should be seeing a physical therapist. One of the healers at this facility told me, “I am tired of the game.” I do not like what I see and do not want to be in the present moment. I cannot focus and my mind wonders. Studying in college was a form of meditation and walking, planting my foot into the Mother Earth, help keep me grounded. My jobs make me feel like shit about myself. I worked so hard, it would be nice to be something. I stayed sick in January, so obviously wasn’t suppose to go to Las Cruces, El Paso or Mexico.
October 13, 2016
The diary seems to repeat itself and it gets old after all. What do I want to be when I grow up? Should I ? Shoud I?, and everything hurts, totally hypochondriac! It sounds like I am way TOO much in my head. Now, well I just don’t care… and if something hurts, I told blab to everyone about it.