Spring tries to kill me. With its pollening and its storms and tornadoes, I'm in hell from mid-March to the first frost; but August upsets me. 

When I think about my younger years, the front of my brain, I swear before Jesus, starts to itch, the way it did when I was a kid. When I was a kid, I was stuck between an older sister who was our only babysitter, and therefore an unquestioned authority figure, and a younger brother who was a violent asshole- a violent asshole whose every brutal outburst was excused by the early 1980s term "hyperactivity." Hyperactivity was caused by "artificial" coloring and flavoring in food- not by the fact that he was, and is, a jerk. That "hyperactive" ass-hat of a brother once threw a large metal cowboy belt buckle at me so hard that when I slammed our bedroom door, just in time, the buckle embedded itself into the wood of the door. This act was blamed on the (absolutely "natural") orange color in some cheddar cheese he'd eaten earlier that afternoon.  This was not an isolated, nor an infrequent, incident. This was my childhood. This, on top of being raised in a high-control religious group- a cult- was my every day.  Both that older sister and younger brother were born in August. August- the scorching hellhole of months. 

The parents that excused his abusive behavior spanked us every day, with a red electrical wire, a leather belt, or a wooden spoon. Poor me, I know. 

Add that crap to the fact that the religious sect I was raised in didn't allow the celebration of any holidays. We had no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no Halloween, no birthday parties. February should have a been a respite, but Valentine's day found me sitting in the elementary school office with my brother and the secretary who resented us for nearly always being late for school, thanks to my mother, and for taking up her time on holidays, when she had to play babysitter. 

Back to my problem with August. I hate August. August is hot and dry and dusty like the blond hair of my problematic brother and sister.

I had no way of fighting against this:

DARVO:

• Deny: The perpetrator denies the abuse or wrongdoing that they are accused of.
• Attack: The perpetrator attacks the accuser, often trying to undermine their credibility or character.
• Reverse Victim and Offender: The perpetrator attempts to portray themselves as the victim and the accuser as the offender.

DARVO is a common tactic used by perpetrators of abuse, including those who are narcissistic or emotionally abusive, to avoid responsibility and maintain control. 

 Yesterday the Angst- what am I saying? Yesterday my anxiety was fucking killing me. I feel better now, but- but. Why do I write this? I don't really have anything to say. I have stress and fear and anxiety that makes me have to take pills and sit back in my chair and drink water while I'm working and it only gets worse if I get a text or my phone rings, or my fucking manager calls me. Blah, blah, blah. Old white lady bitching, but oh my god sometimes I can't breathe. Sometimes I can't bend my fingers. Sometimes I can't button my shirt, most of the time I CAN'T FUCKING SEE. Goddamn menopause or age or wtf ever. 

In two days I have an appointment with an oncologist/hematologist. I haven't told anyone. I can't tell anyone. I have to tell someone. 

My white blood count is low. My red blood count is low. I have been tired for the past 17years. Since Apple, I've been stressed as fuck. I'm stressed now. I am SO TIRED. 

I reckon I need help. How do I get it? How do I look for it? I can't ask... just have to go to a doctor. 

Therapy- can I ask Mike about this? How do I start? I'm losing my mind and I'm fucking scared I'm going get fired because I keep sleeping and can't wake up and OMG what can I do? Also I'm so hungry, but I don't want to eat because WW and me fatty fatty 2x4. aaaaaagh