Tag Archives: Anxiety

Wiggity, Wiggity Wack.

I’m sick. Sore throat, coughing, hacking, my voice is suddenly very low and raspy. My mom was like look Minnie Mouse is gone! I asked her if I sound sexy now and she said yes. Thanks mom. šŸ˜‰

But forreal. It sucks. So in April, my mom got sick, then my sister, then my dad, then my sister again, and she got so sick that she developed an ear infection and had to take antibiotics for it and it was kind of hilarious.

HOWEVER. Because she took those anti’s, her immune system was lowered, and she got sick again (mildly this time) with a cold or some such, and SHE GOT ME SICK. I LIVED IN THAT HOME WITH THREE SICK PEOPLE AND DID NOT CATCH A THING, AND I GET SICK NOOOOOW?Ā Give me a break.

But I’ve been so sick the past two days that I missed my scheduled pill times and now I’m off. I don’t like it because I am already off (usually) because I don’t fill the scripts the same day, I do it later when I can get to walmart because it’s the closest place that takes medicaid. No big deal. But now I’m like a whole week off from my appts. It’s minor. It’s minor. I know. Ā But holy hell does that bother me.

This post is all over the place, I’m sorry. But back to me being sick. It’s a little funny because not taking the Vyvanse for two days in a row made me sort of instantly irritable and I was like overreacting to everything and my family was like literally cleaning up after me. At one point, I was scooping some green beans up on to my plate to eat and one fell on the floor and I was just this dramatic, devastated person. Like it sent me over the edge and I was about to cry because everything was awful and my sister is like “It’s okay, sissy it’s okay, it didn’t even happen, see? No bean on the floor. It didn’t even happen.” She picked it up and threw it away while I was busy cursing everything in my life.

My family is so patient.

Anyway, here’s a picture of me where I accidentally turned into a mermaid.

Mermaid hair nails oops

I mean, look at that hair. Those nails? TOTALLY MERMAID HAIR AND NAILS.

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Here’s the Roundup

So. It’s May. I have since been upped to 60mg of Vyvanse. I think it’s really working. I take it in combination with 50mg Zoloft and I no longer have any irritability issues. I also haven’t had any problems with my stomach or anything. Still steadily losing weight, and my Dr is definitely going to say something soon, which is soooo upsetting. I like being thinner!

I still have my ups and downs with depression, but it’s not as often as it used to be, so I think I’m getting better. I really just need things to do, otherwise I feel useless and just beat myself up.

Anxiety is still being managed with Klonopin and it’s still kind of out of nowhere.

I can’t hear anything. Heh. It’s happened before; for like 1-2 weeks, my ears just decide they only want to work at half-speed and so I’m going around all “What? WHAT? Wait are you talking? Crap. Wait say that first part again? I didn’t know you were talking to me,” And so on. They don’t feel any different than normal. Nothing is changed, but now I can’t hear as well and in a week or so it’ll suddenly clear up and whatever. It’s super bizarre. Not bizarre enough for me to go to the doctor for it though! Bleh.

So here I sit, with another 20 pounds of henna on my head to fix/enhance the first batch. I used a different recipe too. And I made more, but I ended up with leftovers, but not enough for another application so I stuck it in a bottle (and also used a toothpick) and drew a design on my arm.

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It’s so bad! Hahahahah I am definitely not a henna artist.

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Excuses, Excuses (But I really do have a plan in mind)

I know I said I would resume posting regularly again, but I decided to wait for this last appointment of April here and then I could give you a big ‘ole round-up of what’s been going on. It’s tomorrow, so even though I know you are all so desperately waiting on me (heh) I’ll be posting my experiences again soon.

Until then, have this picture. I call it: stop yelling at yourself

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The picture is very grainy because I am too impatient to find the best light settings on my iPhone so I just picked one and said fuck it, you can see me, you can see the sky, you can see enough basic details, we’re good.

I will also tell you that I have since henna-ed my hair after that picture was taken and It Is Quite Bright. Also, it is incredibly difficult to do and it smells terrible and I had a headache from the smell of it plus twenty pounds of goop on my head for several hours. And as usual, the same spots I always miss (OR INSANELY don’t seem to take ANY hair color) are still dark blonde. So once this oxidizes I am going to do a small “retouch batch” to fix these spots. And I think next tome I won’t use any lemon juice. Or maybe just a tiny amount. My hair was already very damaged because I dye it a lot, but it feels dry as hell right now. Need to get to some deep conditioning, yo.

Fortunately I never feel better than when I am a redhead so the brightness doesn’t bother me. I just need to get used to the henna process, fine-tune my method for what works best for me.

PS: I think I accidentally splatter-henna-ed some more freckles on my arms. Hahaha! šŸ™‚

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Vyvanse Weekly Update 5 (Belated)

Well.

So I haven’t posted in over a week now. Sorry.

I think I’m my own worst enemy at the moment. I am so scared of spiraling downward that I am probably sending myself down that very spiral. I need to be more positive. I need to. I need to stop being so hard on myself and I need to stop being so negative with myself. It’s hard. It’s very defeating. I don’t want to do anything because I am psyching myself out.

I’ve got a Dr. appointment tomorrow, so there’ll be an update then.

And now, here’s the late weekly update.

My appetite has dwindled down to total zero. I have switched from attempting “reminder meals” to grazing, because actual “meals” are just too much. It’s too much food and it makes me nauseated as hell and then I don’t end up eating. If I just graze, sometimes I still feel nauseated but mostly I end up getting food in. I know I have weight issues, but I’m NOT looking to be anorexic and just not eat altogether. Do I like that I’m losing weight? ABSOLUTELY. But I’m not trying to risk my health, I’m not trying to use this as a means to be perfectly skinny and wonderful. It seems that switching my eating tactics is working because I was dropping pretty steadily and now that has stalled. I don’t know what to do about tomorrow, however, because I’ve lost a lot in three weeks and I don’t know what my Dr. is going to say about it. It’s unfortunate because I still feel really optimistic about this Vyvanse and it just sucks that I might be taken off it.

On a different note, I’ve only had one instance of complete, total irritability. I think this light dose of Zoloft is working well for that. Thankfully! I actually subbed for 3rd graders the other day because I felt comfortable and that I could do it without getting angry or having some outburst on some poor little kids.

I don’t believe in prayers or anything, but if you do feel free to send some positive energy my way. I could really use some positive energy sucking superpower right now. Just be all like oh, you’re super happy? SSSSHHHHLLLLLLLUUUUUKKKKKKK thank you for your energy buh-bye.

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Vyvanse Weekly Update 4

I can already hear you all groaning at my latest complaint. I can hear it. You’re like “Erin, of all the things to complain about, this is such BS. You’re a bitch.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As far as side effects go, my worst one is… the fact that I don’t get hungry at all, and I have to ask people if I’ve eaten anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know, I know! It’s ridiculous. I have a love/hate relationship with it. I mean, who wouldn’t love never feeling hungry? But I do know that my body cannot sustain itself that way and I have to eat something or else a week from now I’ll have no energy and a massive headache and wonder what’s wrong with myself. HMMMMMM.

I do enjoy my brain now. it’s like, I can do anything! But I also feel myself sort of slipping into depression-mode, and I am so insanely terrified of what might happen if I find myself depressed and motivated. I’ve mentioned this before. It’s still just a big fear of mine right now.

I still don’t have any irritable outbursts. Except when it comes to my upstairs neighbors. Speaking of whom, they are killing me. I just don’t understand how you can let your kid scream his head off at you or at his xbox all while knowing you are having “sound” issues with your surrounding neighbors. SERIOUSLY? And how can you still drop shit constantly and move furniture constantly (?!? WTF is up with that, though) and vacuum after midnight constantly. They piss me the fuck off and I have never, never been so mad at neighbors before. It’s an apartment building! You don’t live in a house, so you HAVE to be considerate of other people.

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Viewing Your Parents as You Become an Adult (AKA dealing with new information about parents)

I skipped two whole days of blogging! What a tragedy***Ā for you guys! You must have been devastated!

Just kidding. Truth is, I’ve just been sick. Caught a cold or something and I’ve been laying in bed all day Mon/Tue shivering my ass off and since that’s boring as ALL HELL I got up and wrapped a blanket around myself to keep warm while still sitting at my computer.

*** Side note: I actually wrote “travesty” here first, but it didn’t look right. So I googled it and it totally does not mean what I thought it meant. The weird thing is, every time I’ve heard it being said, they used it as “something terrible, tragedy, devastating” etc. A few entries down on UrbanDictionary confirms this, but wow. I’ve basically been using this word wrong my entire life. End side note. šŸ™‚

So I found out something completely MAJOR about my dad. When we lived in CA, we used to go camping a lot. I loved camping. It was great. I loved playing outside in the forest/woods and playing in the water of waterfalls and trying to catch critters to bring home.

Well, there was one camping trip that we took with uh… three or four of my dad’s “friends”. Quotes because my dad… I dunno. He’s doesn’t particularly like like these people (or anyone really) but he also doesn’t like having no friends so he still associates with people he love/hates. Anyway, we went camping with them. My sister’s gotta be 3 or 4, so that makes me about 9 or 10 at the time. Apparently, completely unbeknownst to me, his friends brought mushrooms (yes, the magical drug kind) on the trip. My dad partook with his friends while my mom watched after my sister and I. I couldn’t believe it! My dad let it slip in a conversation a few days ago, and my mom clearly still disapproves. As in, she wants to pretend it never even happened because otherwise she just gets mad at my dad.

It’s not like at that age I was to know what someone high as fuck was like, but apparently there was a lot of laughing and goofing off and acting like they were dumb teenagers, and I don’t recall that at all. I have very pleasant memories of this camping trip. I don’t remember my dad being out of it or acting strangely at all.

Additionally, it completely changes how I see my dad. I knew he smoked pot a lot before I was born, but he quit because my mom didn’t want it around the baby (aka WONDERFUL ME) and threatened to leave my dad if he didn’t stop. So, he did. I know he has since partaken a few more times, but on the whole, he’s not really done pot since.

I guess I’ve always kinda been daddy’s little girl and it just shocks me to know that since my sister and I have been alive, he’s actually still done drugs. In a completely recreational way, but… I don’t know. I know he’s human. I know he’s not perfect. I don’t expect him to be. I guess I just assumed that once he earned the title “dad” he stopped all the “bad” stuff and slowly began acting like a dad. Which he totally has, there’s just the addition of occasional drug use. I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

I always knew that many of my problems (anxiety, depression, addiction) stemmed from his side of the family, because there have been suicides and alcoholism and drug addiction on that side of the family. My mom’s side has anxiety, too, but I think that’s about it. So I knew that there was always this possibility of slipping down those roads if I wasn’t careful, and hey look at that, that’s exactly what happened to me.

He’s still the same person. Nothing’s changed except what I know about him. But it doesn’t feel the same. I need to find a way to incorporate this new information into the same “MY DAD” brain file I got going on.

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Vyvanse Weekly Update 3

So this is a little different because I’ve only been on my new meds for 4 days now. Including today. I feel pretty okay. 40mg Vyvanse might be a good stopping point. Maybe 50mg. I probably won’t need to go up to the full 70, or even past that. I’m still wearing off too quickly, so I don’t know how that might affect my dosage. Like, would you lower me to 30 twice a day? That doesn’t seem effective if 50mg works until it’s gone… so it’d have to be 50 twice a day. And now that just seems like a lot. I know with medicaid I wouldn’t even be able to do that until I fulfill certain criteria, so it’s not something for me to worry about for a while anyway.

The Zoloft I’m on is 25mg, I think I mentioned it before. Maybe I’m just giving myself a placebo effect, but I think it’s worked right away. Just something to take to tamp down my anxiety to… more reasonable levels. I have noticed that when I realize theĀ Vyvanse is wearing off, I no longer have that “Sudden Moody Teenager” hour where I am so completely irritable and I feel like a psycho. I mean, that experience of Vyvanse has been the worst part of my day, every day. Because it’s not like I’m just going “aww, nothing is going my wayyyyyyyy” *stomp stomp stompy*. Like I’m not whiny and complaining, I am full on I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE YOU ARE IRRITATING ME SO MUCH RIGHT NOW. Every time someone would knock on my door or talk to me if I left my room during that “hour”, I would immediately be like “WHAT. WHAA-AAT??? I DON’T CARE. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Karen pout BSC

Couldn’t just be pouty. I felt like a monster.

And I couldn’t even control it. I had a pretty good idea of when it would happen. Assuming I took my meds within the 7-8 time frame, I would turn into a monster around 2 or 3. So I just did my best to lock myself up in my room from about 2-4 in the afternoon and hope for the best. It’s only been 4 days, but I don’t have that anymore. The only downside is that I don’t know if that is the Zoloft fixing it or the fact that I went up on Vyvanse.

I haven’t mentioned my weight in a bit, I think. It’s because I haven’t steadily been losing weight. When I bumped up to 30mg, I dropped about 3lbs instantly, I think, and then I’ve been pretty steady. I think it’s because even though I don’t eat a lot (I never really ate a lot, but I eat even less now,) what I do eat is junk food. I love candy. It’s still candy season so there’s still shaped Reese’s to buy and the Lindor Truffles are still doing the milk chocolate with white filling. Yesterday we found a place that happened to sell fudge so I bought some peanut butter fudge and it was delicious and worth it even though it was probably 4000 calories in the slice.

Well, along those lines, I’ve lost two pounds since bumping to 40mg, and then nothing. Maybe it’s the candy. Maybe my body adjusts to the weight loss side-effect quickly. I’m terrified that the Zoloft will make me gain weight. When I got home after filling the prescription, literally the first thing I did was hop on my computer and look up “Zoloft weight loss gain” to see what the general consensus was. It’s terrible. The consensus was basically 50/50! Some websites would say “Generally ____, ____, and zoloft are least likely to cause weight gain” and others would say “Zoloft can cause a weight gain of 10lbs or more”! I know it’s because everyone is different and some people have effects that others don’t, but there isn’t even a real like agreement. From what I’ve gathered on Actual-Factual Real Medical Websites, regular forums, and other normal websites that may or may not be facts, you can fall into three groups. 1. Gained weight. 2. Lost weight. 3. No weight change.

And it’s fairly even and random on which group you will fall into. No group is larger than the other. That’s so terrible! I hate, HATE not knowing. All I can do is pray that I do not gain weight because of this. (Or eat less toĀ offset the weight gain. Y’know. That.)

Remember those cute little Zoloft ads with the little Zoloft balls?

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MAYBE THEY WOULDN’T BE FAT LITTLE BALLS IF THEY WEREN’T TAKING ALL THAT ZOLOFT. MAYBE THEY WOULD BE CUTE LITTLE STICK FIGURES OR SOMETHING LESS EXTREME THAN STICK FIGURES BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS LIKE I AM advocating forĀ skin and bones — anorexia-style and really I am not.
Anorexia is serious. I just can’t think of anything in between balls and stick figure drawings.

FIN.

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A letter to the Bathroom Police

One of the biggest “trivial”[note]Ā transgender issues I see all the time is bathroom stuff. Which bathroom to use, how there should be better accommodations for trans people and public restrooms. I have always found this so bizarre. I mean, I’m in my 20s now. I’ve been to many a public restroom (even though I don’t like it and prefer to wait until I get home.) If we say that I used a public bathroom (PB from now on) about 3 times a week since starting school, that means I’ve been in a PBĀ 2,964 times in my life. And that’s most likely a low estimate. That’s including school restrooms, malls, stores, etc.

There have been a few times where I walked into the men’s PBĀ because the ladies was down and everyone was being redirected there temporarily. There have been times where I just couldn’t find the ladies because it was located NOT directly near the men’s, so I went into the men’s anyway. There have been even more times where men have just walked into the ladies room. You know what we all did? Glance up, maybe give a look saying “Huh, that’s ballsy/impressive/etc.” and went back to washing our hands… because that’s the only reason you even see the guy walking in. Nobody said anything. Nobody did anything. Nobody screamed and went “AAAUUUGGGHHH THERE’S A BOY IN THE BATHROOM OH MY GOD SOMEONE CALL SECURITY!”

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Yeah this? Neeeeeeever happened.

What makes now so different? I understand that some people might be uncomfortable if they saw someone of the opposite gender in the bathroom, but who the hell cares? Men walking into “my” bathroom has happened many times in my life, and they just waltzed in to do their thing. They never made a big deal, we never made a big deal, end of story right?

Wrong.

Because apparently, more and more people are getting upset over a perceived “wrong gendered” person walking into their bathroom. I’m sorry, but since when did this become an issue? IT’S A BATHROOM FOR GOD’S SAKE. Who cares who’s in it? “Oh, but Erin, if a guy is in the ladies he can get creepy and be a sex offender or something!” THAT CAN HAPPEN AT ANY TIME, ANYWAY. If a guy wants to be a creep, he’s gonna be a creep regardless of whether you let anyone into any bathroom. That’s his problem. He’s a creep. Forcing someone out of the bathroom because you don’t think they belong in there isn’t going to stop a creep from being a creep! You’re just stopping a poor person who needs to pee from using the bathroom! What is wrong with you people?!

I’m not transgender. I have a few friends who are, but my experience with transgender bathroom issues is limited to stories and those episodes of Degrassi with Adam using the bathroom. Maybe some people are exaggerating how often it happens, but I sure as hell believe it’s at least based in truth, especially with this article that came out just two days ago (March 3 2015).

Why is it that whenever I enter a men’s room nobody gives me a hard time, nobody ejects me out of the room, but if a trans person does they get beaten like hell over it? And why is it that when a man enters the ladies (when I’m in there) nobody does anything, but if they’re trans suddenly it’s scream time and they get forced out and yelled at by the bathroom police (if not also attacked)?

I mean, this is just so completely baffling to me. There are so many issues out there that you can be getting angry about, but you’re getting mad that (you think) the wrong person has entered your bathroom?

I’m sorry, there was an actual point/end to this post, but I got caught up in angry-mode on why I can use a guys bathroom no problem (I mean no harassment, anything) but if someone is assumed to be trans suddenly there are issues.

So I guess this awkwardly ends this post. No resolution, just a girl wondering why you crazy bathroom police areĀ arguing over someone using “your” bathrooms instead of fighting bigger issues like I dunno, homelessness, employment issues, violence+gang violence, medical care…

Although, I suppose you bathroom police don’t really care about those issues, either? Just the ones that let you tell other people who they are and how to conform to your standards.

ā€Œā€Œā€Œ

[note]Ā I say trivial in the sense that we’re not talking about plain old harassment or bullying, or any of the major issues that trans people have to deal with on a regular basis, internally or externally. This is just “crap, I have to pee, which bathroom is going to be my best bet today”. And even then I understand how something as simple as going to the bathroom can be such an agonizing internal debate for many trans people. Thus, the reasonĀ of my post.

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Vyvanse Mid-Week Update: Appointment Day!

So, I went to the Dr. appointment today. It went pretty smoothly, like it usually does. My blood pressure was even down to normal, 118/82, which was probably the most exciting thing that happened. I’ve been dealing with years of “high-normal / pre-hypertension” readings ever since my meds went all wonky on me and I started swapping. Huge, huge plus for me.

I talked to her about my concerns with my irritability and my anxiety feeling out of control. Basically, she told me exactly what the internet told me; that my body[1] is metabolizing the Vyvanse too quickly, and we need to up it. She said that if it still happens and my dosage feels fine in all other aspects, that’s when we would switch to twice a day pills. Another Vyvanse point: she said that while the side effects should calm down and even out like normal, there is a good chance that they will never go away, so now we’re praying that the irritability smooths itself out enough to let me keep a normal job.

With the anxiety, I told her that I’ve never been on something that doesn’t have the added benefit of being an anti-anxiety. She was hoping that the Vyvanse would take away a major portion of it, since a lot of my anxiety stems from my own brain feeding off of itself. That doesn’t seem to be the case. So now I’m on a low dose of Zoloft. I’ve been on Zoloft before, but it was right in the beginning when I was suicidal and severely depressed and it didn’t work, at all. However, there wasn’t really any focus on my anxiety, so now we’re trying this to see if it can sort of dampen everything and bring me back down to a manageable level.

Total cost of everything? $4.00. THANK YOU MEDICAID. Medicaid has been a complete lifesaver for me. Before, when I was totes poor, I still managed to not qualify for Medicaid. Now, after the restructure, I qualify and I am nothing but thrilled.

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I mean freaking look at that! Especially the Vyvanse, 257 bucks just for one months worth. That’s insane. I am incredibly lucky to qualify for assistance because I wouldn’t be on anything right now without it.

It makes me wonder how the hell other people are doing it. I mean, I’m poor. I always have been, and my career choice isn’t promising to get me out of being poor. I can only imagine how people who are middle-class (ish) and don’t qualify for assistance are managing. I mean, insurance is expensive. I was prepared to simply pay the fine for not having it before medicaid accepted me, because paying the fine each year was cheaper than paying for monthly insurance. It’s insane, that’s all I can say. Anyone who is struggling right now with medical shit and are caught in that limbo of “don’t qualify for assistance, can’t pay for insurance either”… I feel for you. There’s got to be a better way.

But now I’m veering into politics and I don’t really want to voice my opinions on that stuff just yet.

[1] For whatever reason, since it doesn’t apply to everyone and there isn’t a known factor on why certain bodies behave this way.

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Vyvanse Weekly Update 2 (plus bonus fire story!)

This week’s been kind of rough. I’ve definitely got a pattern down. I take my pill, and about 6-8 hours later I’m cranky and irritable as hell. Like so irritable I’m like GO AWAY I DON’T WANT TO LOOK AT YOU I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOU. GET OUT. GO. LEAVE. GOODBYE. STOP FUCKING TALKING.

It’s not the best attitude I can have…

Like previous times I went off of anti-depressants, my anxiety is at an all time high. And that’s not fun. The good news is my appt. is on Wednesday so I can tell her all about this and she can fix it. The bad news is I’m terribly impatient when it comes to my health, mental or otherwise.

I don’t know if the side effects are clouding my vision, but I just don’t feel that motivation or clarity that I used to. I’m hoping that it’s because my body adjusted to the Vyvanse and realized it wasn’t enough, so I can go up and maybe get that double dose through the day or… something. But that plus trying to deal with my anxiety? I don’t know, we typically do one thing at a time; I’m just so sensitive to medicinal changes.

I feel really scared and overwhelmed with the idea of going back to work. I do have to go back soon, medicine or not, and I am terrified that I am going to lose my job because I snapped and started yelling at the kids. I mean, not yelling, but being a bad teacher. Like being irritated all the time by them, being snippy and exasperated. I’m also really overwhelmed because it’s like coming back from summer break and you’ve been gone for weeks and weeks and you have to get readjusted to how things work and whatever changes might have happened while you were gone. That kind of crap gives me major, major anxiety. Like blood pressure through the roof, I want to burst into tears when I get home levels of anxiety.

Plus I’ve said it before but I drive myself nuts being here at home doing nothing.


This has been sitting here for a while because I forgot to hit post. Whoops! But it’s “good” news because now I can add on this story. Our upstairs neighbors’ fire alarm went off. Completely normal, because this building has disgustingly sensitive alarms. As in, there’s one right outside the bathroom (which is directly across from the fuseĀ box.) If you even think about taking a hot shower, the steam will set off the alarm.

I digress a bit. So their alarm goes off. And it goes off. And it goes off. And… it’s still going off? Wtf are these people doing, right?

My dad goes outside and can see through their porch window that the room is filled with smoke. So he hollers out for my mom and he runs up with my sister and they bang on the door and no one answers, and my dad is about to try to bash the door in because we know they have at least one cat, if not more animals, and who knows what’s happened to the people right? Door is unlocked. No one is home. Something has been left on the stove and is now burning and smoking. So my dad turns it all off and my sister runs through the apartment checking to see if anyone is stuck or whatever, but no one is there. He opens the porch door and the house door, and my mom is fanning the place, and eventually I find their cat and I take him outside out of the smoke. Still no one comes home. We’ve gotten the alarm to stop, and nothing is severely damaged to our knowledge, so we leave and start writing a note when my sister notices that the woman has come home.

Apparently she is doing laundry and the fam runs to the store quick-like while the wash is going, and they forgot the stove. She remembers at some point and rushes home without them (I mean, we just missed running into her while we were leaving their house and she came home.) So we tell her what we did and that we took the cat out for air and tried to fan as much as possible but holy hell, that place was filled, I mean FILLED with smoke. I don’t even know how the alarm turned off, because there was still so much in there.

My cat currently hates me because I am covered in stranger-cat-smell. I’m just thrilled the door was unlocked. We were all in our pyjamas, and I rushed into regular clothes and grabbed my phone and inhaler because I had no idea if this was a fire that was going to actually affect us. I had basically grabbed what I thought was important and decided everything else could be replaced, sacrificed, whatever, I was going to go into this fire to help our hellish neighbors that we have done nothing but complain about. And it took me no second thoughts, only sparing thoughts to what I wanted to take out of our apartment in case of collateral damage.

My dad was like “jesus christ you’re a bad ass” to my sister and I and all that. Mostly I think I just didn’t care if anything happened to me. That’s probably a little more concerning, but I kept my mouth shut. Apathy is apathy, but I walked in, in an attempt to help people. It’s not like I jaywalked without any cares. Maybe when that one happens (…again) I’ll mention it. For now… I dunno. All I know is my chest hurts from the smoke and my inhaler isn’t doing what I want it to.

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