I can see why...

This morning we went to the warehouse, bought some candy, and went to work. I stocked everything that my snacks needed. It was a little rough, one woman followed me into the bathroom, asking me to sell her some Dunkin' Sticks. What, I had it in my pocket? Then she followed me into the stockroom AFTER I told her, I'd be happy to get her product after I brought in the candy which was sitting in the sun outside. Hm.

Later on, I was told by a disgruntled person that the ham sandwiches were "Nasty" and all our food choices were terrible. I told her, I'm just the hired help, the business manager is over there (pointing at my husband). Apparently, she didn't want to yell at a blind man, as she left.

I had to smile and play nice while Chuck chatted up the woman who hid my husband's cart and laughed at him as he searched for it. That's a sick game to play on a blind man who can hardly work. But I couldn't say or show how I felt. Like I told Chuck, I can forgive her but that doesn't mean I have to like her. I don't.

I forgot to bring home my VSA catalog. I feel like an imbelicle. It gets better. After I paid $88 for cat medicine later that day, I lost it somewhere. Now the cats are itching and Ron's being way nicer than I'd be in his shoes. "I didn't know you couldn't handle that, Heather." He apologized. I don't like admitting it either. I didn't lose his debit card, the prescription I picked up, the cash he gave me, my purse, my coat, my backpack, the stuff I got at Home Depot, and his leftovers from lunch. But I did lose the cat medicine. I feel terrible about it and furious at myself.

I'm that stupid. I thank God I don't have a baby, I'd kill it. I'd leave it somewhere or leave it in the bath.

Partly, it's the FAS. I have brain damage. I'm not normal. In some regards, I tested in the borderline category (nearly retarded).

The rest of it: Lithium. Ron's told me again and again tonight, it's OK. I love you. It's not that big a deal.

God knows neither of us want me OFF my pills, but it's a new (relatively speaking) problem and I'm still adjusting.

It's like I told Ron: the late-onset disabilties are always worse than the ones that happen pre-birth or in childhood. I know what I'm missing.

I'm not the same Heather. It's good, and it's sad.

I'm not the same Heather. I remind myself: People like me now.