On C's advice, I took a super-dose of Tramadol last night. I could definitely feel it affecting me, but more importantly I could feel the pain draining away to super low levels. Then again, maybe not? The hard thing about being in such high amounts of pain is that it totally screws with your perception of pain in general. I can no longer really place my pain levels on a scale, though I do for the sake of understanding for those who aren't in my body, meaning everyone else. In any event, the pain levels are low to medium-low today compared to what I was going through recently, and that's enough to make me want to do the Macarena or something.

Although my balance and vision were screwy, and my stomach hurt until I drank some soothing tea, my pain was blessedly masked, and I fell asleep quickly. The pain is back today, but not at such high levels. It's getting worse as the day progresses, but I'll just super-dose myself again tonight if need be. I know that my poor body is very tired from the battle its been fighting just recently, so even though I feel "better" today and the temptation is to leap into action and get stuff done, I'm making a conscious choice to be kind to myself and to my body and just rest today. Get a few things done, sure, like laundry and arranging the flowers that D and R brought with them to C's barbecue... oh! C and I are taking a walk together when he gets home! I'm looking forward to that :) And I intend to shower today, as it's been a couple of days more than it should be since I last did more than just soak in a tub of hot water. That should pretty much do it for me. Most of the day, I'll be resting, because I want to be good to myself. I deserve it! Especially after the hell I just suffered through. There are only a few people in the world I would wish this kind of existence on, and they're people that have wronged me greatly.

J brought up an interesting point today in passing... Those around me, friends and such, feeling bad/sad because they're helpless to help me or alleviate my pain. It's got me thinking, really. I don't want to sugarcoat my life, especially here, because I need an outlet of some sort. In person, I do a pretty good job of smiling through the pain, but the internet is where I can bare my soul and find support and humor from fellow survivors. But should I really be so honest? Should I be more Stepford Wives and pretend that everything is fine?


Here's what I think: Even though my pain may make those I love and who love me uncomfortable because there's not a damn thing either of us can do about it, I'd much rather they know because it is now a part of who I am and how I live my life. To hide a part of myself for the sake of reducing possible uncomfortable experiences would kind of negate the point of the friendship. I fake it with those I don't care to let very far into my life. Those that I let in, it's because I know that even if it hurts them to see me hurt, they will still treat me like a normal person. As much as I sometimes desire to be coddled and swaddled and waited upon hand and foot (though I think that's normal--hello, Mother's Day!), I so much more appreciate the real acknowledgment of my limits, expressions of compassion, and continual good humor that they put forth. So J, how to relate? Just keep being my friend. I'm sorry my pain makes you sad. It makes me sad, too. But just keep being my friend like you always have, and don't get upset when I'm too worn out to want to deal with people at the moment... even awesome people like you.

On another note of pain... D's memorial is this weekend. The closer it gets, the more I kinda don't want to go... because if I don't go, it's not real and it didn't happen, right? And if I don't deal with the pain, then it's not there, right? Right?

Ugh. I'm going to cry so very, very much. I'm dreading it, honestly. I don't want to face this grief. I want to pretend that D is still alive off in the far-flung land of Id, and I just haven't heard from him in a while (which is not uncommon at all), and this has all just been a big misunderstanding. That's what I want. I want D to still be alive. I don't want to attend a memorial service in a church that will be stuffed to the gills with people that I don't know who also loved him, or at least liked him, and I don't want to see his family or Gaga because the last time I saw them we were celebrating another year of life for D.

But on the other hand... I do want to see C and the girls. I know they understand this special brand of grief that comes from having shared a home with D. And finally, I will have someone to grieve with who knew D. I won't be alone in my pain, at least for a few days. There is that.

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