Dear God: Please let me stop losing hair and gaining weight (yeah, my weight started climbing again). 

Oh, wait. That’s right. You don’t give a shit about me. If You did I wouldn’t be having these problems in the first place, right? 

Well, let’s just hope the doctor I’m going to see this afternoon can help me instead. After all, God can’t write prescriptions. She can. I just worry that there won’t be anything they can do in my case and that someday I’ll be well over 200 pounds. Fate is going to play itself out the way it was meant to, though, so if I’m meant to be grotesquely huge, then there’s nothing I can do about it. I run 3 or 4 times a week, and I eat reasonably most days… so I don’t know what else I can do to help myself in that department. Perhaps all the doctor needs to do is adjust my dosage or change my medication, but I find it hard to believe it’d be that simple. Whatever happens, I’ve become a rather private person when it comes to my health, so I’m not going to get into much detail. I’m not going to die. That’s all anyone needs to know. I may end up bald and wider than this house, but I won’t die. 

What I love knowing is that I can say “no” to these doctors and medications anytime I want to, and that’s important to one who had no say over her life/body as a child and even parts of her adult life. Back when they were doping me with psych pills and leaving me with permanent side effects, I didn’t have the right to say “no.” Now I do. Now I can say that life is all about taking risks and living on the edge, and I know we’re all going to die someday anyway, so no more drugs and doctors. 

But I don’t want to suffer needlessly and put my life at risk while I’m still relatively young. If I were single it wouldn’t matter so much if I were risking a stroke or a heart attack by not taking my cholesterol pills, and it wouldn’t matter if I were risking thyroid cancer if I went off my medication, but I do have a husband to consider. So for now I have to do all I can to deal with this latest round of shit our lovely, loving God has decided to dish out at me, as if I haven’t had enough. The sleep issues alone are a HUGE curse for life as it is. Sometimes I’m not sure which is worse, deadly or debilitating. No one wants to die, of course, but when something really limits the hell out of just how much you can live life and your everyday functions, it gets truly frustrating at times. Especially if you look at it long-term.