So I've been having a hard time lately. A really hard time. Emotionally, physically, financially… you name it, it's been tough.
Melanie Collins Pennock The only constant in life is change. Things will not stay as they are. Believe me when I tell you I understand. Friends and family leave when someone is Chronically ill. For many reasons. We are the reminders that it could happen to them. We cannot do the things we used to, eventually those people drop from your life. If I still lived where I grew up, I would have friends from the past. Here, my friends were mainly from work. They went away. I am alone almost all day, mostly. I actually enjoy it. Everyone finds their new normal. You are going through a great loss. The loss of yourself.......but a new self will appear. What is needed now is letting go and patience. Hahaha! Very hard. Think of this time as a learning time. You are laying fallow, like a field in winter. Eventually you will bloom!
I dunno. I'm like, really mourning… grieving. Grieving for my lost life, my lost friends, my lost self… I just want someone to come in and really, really care for me. I want to be nurtured. I want to be pampered. I want to be babied and taken care of and just… just… have love poured into me and surrounding me like a cocoon, like a womb, where I can just rest and be safe and happy, just for a little while.
I feel empty. Empty and worn out and worn down and tired, so tired of hurting all the time and feeling so sick all the time and when I say all the time I mean every waking moment. There is no break. Some people with fibro or chronic illnesses speak of "flare days" when things are bad, but otherwise sort of getting along in a fashion. I don't know what that's like. I have "normal", which sucks, and every waking moment is pain and nausea and fatigue, but then I also have "flare". That is living hell. It hurts to breathe, hurts to shift an inch, I want to vomit up my insides and claw out my eyes and my brain and peel my skin off and just curl into a ball and burst into flames and burn away into charred ash and just die. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't do anything but lay there moaning and staring at the wall or ceiling or whatever, depending on which way I happen to be laying.
I'm sick of this. My pain doc (whom I adore, by the way, and totally respect, and she is my favorite doc ever) is certain that she can help me improve. I want to believe her with all my heart, but I'm also sick of the utter devastation and heartbreak that comes with hoping for improvement or good news with this stupid disease and then having that hope shattered, like a plate glass window being smashed over my head. I stagger, I fall to my knees, I am cut and bleeding, and the doctor walks away like it's nothing.
I just don't know what to do about this emptiness, this longing. It's consuming me. It's killing me. I'm crying frequently and I hate it. I just want someone to love me! Why won't someone love me? Where did everyone go? Why am I all alone? Why am I home alone all day with just cats and movies for company?
More than that… why is my life this way at all?
Talking with my pain doc at my appointment the other day, she asked me what I had majored in because I really impressed her with a chart that I made and brought her to describe the various symptoms that make up "sick" that goes along with the constant chronic severe pain. I told her I got sick before I could finish my massage therapy course, but I really wanted to go for neurobiology. She said that I should, because I'd be good at it, and I agree. I'd make an awesome neurobiologist, and she's not the first medical professional or scientist or other professional to say so. I am very intelligent. I have a sharp mind, a way with words, a keen understanding and intuition of how data translates to practical application… plus I love the challenge of working with the brain. I just… I have so much potential, and now I'm trapped, stagnating, forced into a living grave by this stupid malfunctioning body. I could be an incredibly productive member of society! I was an incredibly productive member of society. What the fuck?! Why not G, my abuser? Why not my very first abuser? Grampa told me on the trip up to the big city that he had spoken with the social workers when I was taken into foster care after being rescued from that situation, and they told him that all of the red flags were very clearly displayed in the situation. He was grooming me for sexual abuse in the midst of all the physical torture he put me through.
This is a two year old girl. That is how old I was. There is nothing sexual about a two year old girl. I am just… devastated. Angry. …Angry. And devastated. Is there just a huge neon sign above my head that says "Hit me! Rape me! Fuck with my mind and emotions!"? Seems to be.
I just have so many emotions swirling in me right now, and yet there is still that huge hole. I think it must look something like this inside me right now… (Just don't expect the TARDIS or John Crichton to pop out the other end. That would, admittedly, be cool though.)
Well, given that I've got so much time alone, I suppose I could take time to feel through all these feels and actually process through this stuff. I've really not dealt with any of my feelings regarding fibromyalgia. I've just kind of stuffed it all away. It's been too intense to deal with. Maybe it's all just coming out now, and now's the time to face it.
I bought a book off Amazon recently, and it just arrived tonight. (Talk about timing, eh?)
I think reading through this book and doing the little exercises he has in there will help me process through my own journey. I really do. So… I guess I've assigned myself some homework, something to practically address the Loneliness Hole. At least, I hope it will help. Good grief, I'm so glad I have this blog to word-vomit into. Can you imagine if I tried to keep all this inside? I'd explode!!
That's all for now. I've got a raging headache and my body is killing me. It's telling me that the weather is changing, and also that it hates me. Hah. Maybe I'll take a soak before falling asleep. Lucky me, I've got muscle relaxers now, so I can actually drug myself into oblivion. I'm so happy! Now, to exercise self control and not abuse the privilege… but it's soooo tempting… Oh, did I mention that my neon pain doc has me walking 10-15 minutes a day, and making a calendar to record my exercise habits? I'm naming the calendar The Pit of Despair and decorating it with "pain quotes" from The Princess Bride. The header is, "So it's to be torture, then? I can cope with torture." Week one says, "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." Week two is, "You mock my pain! Never do it again. I died that day." Week three says, "Do you hear that? That is the sound of ultimate suffering." Week four says, "I've just sucked one *month* of your life away. Tell me, how do you feel?" She's gonna love it. I told her that she was gonna kill me. She laughed and told me I could do it. I also failed one of the strength tests because I was distracted by thinking about punching her and then deciding not to do it. When I told her she gave me a fist bump and told me I had great self control, so I passed that test. She's awesome.
Okay. On to the soak, then off to bed. I've talked enough for one night. If you've hung around this long… you're either bored, a true friend, inordinately interested in my inner workings (maybe you should consider neuropsychology, or just psychology?), or plotting to kill me. Well, whatevs. It'll be an adventure, whichever one it is. (At least there were pictures, right?) Good night!