The Adventures of a Middle Kid
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Of Bartonella

6/17/2015

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This probably won't relieve me (much--or for long), but it gives me something to do while battling and resting my achy back against something that isn't too soft or too hard.

I am in throes of a "Bart Day". By this time of day I am thoroughly sick and tired of it and that just winds me up tighter.

A "Bart Day" for those of you who don't know, means that I have been simmering all day long just under the surface. I haven't actually erupted today, but I have shown my teeth a couple of times. 

I know that it's bartonella causing this underlying fury and irritation and not "just" my sin nature...though there is of course that aspect if I cease the battle. I know it's Bart because I'm usually just a flair up, die down, go back to life kind of person when it comes to my temper. When I stew, irrationally, in my own irritation juices for HOURS on end (read all day), then I know it's bartonella since it goes against my normal character.

Sometimes I think if I just "let go" and let the volcano out I would feel better...but I wonder about that. For starters, my words would be nasty and hurtful and probably directed at a family member...for no real reason other than they got into my space in a way that I didn't like for some numbskull irrational reason. For seconds, being Bart, it would probably only relieve for a little while and then I would just do it all over again. So no; I think in the long run the simmering is better. Even though I feel like SCREAMING.

For instance, I showered (I was hoping the hot water would ease some of this pain in my back muscles--it didn't seem to help very much) and then went upstairs. The only way I kept myself from either screaming, crying with frustration, or yes, punching the wall (which would have brought tears of pain) once I reached my room was balling my fists up and grinding them into the cover a book that was laying on the table. I think I might have also been biting my lip in the process, since that is rather characteristic when I'm fighting some sort of volatile noise. While that may sound like a lack of self-control, I assure you that it is the safest and most harmless manner to deal with the violence that simply must get out of me or I would go insane. I am not one of those people who say one ought to just "let of steam" when they are angry, but I also understand, from personal experience, that for some people there is a necessity to release some pressure, in a controlled fashion, in order to disarm an explosion.

I'm not pretty on days like this, either inside or out. Inside I'm an emotional roller coaster (you do not want to see inside my brain) and outside I tend to have a set scowl (I think literary people would call that a "lowering brow") which forms from my teeth being set together firmly. My muscles ache from my tenseness, as my physical works with my spiritual to control my pathogenic bacteria.

For all that, I have managed to get a few useful things accomplished today. I did a semi-straightening job in one room (mainly because I was setting up to do my director's interview--which Mama thankfully suggested that I do on Friday when I'll be home by myself--which very thing I had actually intended on doing, but forgot); of course, that was done in a bit of a ill-tempered stew, but it got done. The fabric isn't all over the place quite as badly as it was. I helped get Grandpa up without biting him, although I did let him know right off that I was a grouch. Poor guy was sooo sleepy. I ALMOST finished this baby romper I started yesterday. I quit on the do-it-yourself snap tape because I was going to turn into a screaming maniac if I didn't. I may actually be calm enough by the time I finish this post that I can go finish it. Making snap tape is actually something that falls right down my alley of things I should like doing--I get to use a tool! So my anger doesn't even make much sense...even though I did booger the thing up. 

I am thankful that my family recognizes my "bartish-ness" and tries to be accommodating to me. If it weren't for their loving me in that particular way, I sometimes wonder if I wouldn't explode a little more frequently. 

I hope...no, I pray that I do not wake up to another Bart Day tomorrow. I HATE this stuff.  

     Racheal

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    The Middle Kid

    I chose to title this blog "The Adventures of a Middle Kid" because that is exactly what I'll be detailing (mostly). I chose 'kid' over any other word, like 'girl' (I am the middle girl so it also would have worked) or 'child'
    (since I am no longer exactly a child).

    I am a middle kid and I will always be a middle kid--even when I'm 80!

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