You remember yesterday/last night/actually early this morning, when I was musing about how I want to leave a mark in the world, to do something important and worthy with my life? The gist was that I couldn't really fully put into words what I was longing for, but I've found it! I found the words to explain my mission! Whenever I read the Hands Free Mama blog, it's perfect timing for something, either a struggle I'm going through or a thought or philosophy taking shape that needed a little guidance and a shove in the final direction. This time, I came across this article called Your Most Important Role, In Case Someone Forgets, and I'll go ahead and copy the sections that jumped out at me the loudest.

I ended up taking that two-hour drive with Scott. I can’t even remember if he got the job; I only remember the look of gratitude on his face when he dropped me off, saying he would have been way more nervous if he’d gone alone. All I’d done was simply remind him of what he already knew—the good stuff we tend to forget about ourselves in times of doubt, stress, uncertainty, and fear.

Over the past two decades, I’ve referred to that experience many times: As a special education teacher looking into the eyes of a young man who killed his pet … as a mother whose Noticer of Life child admitted she felt “different” from the rest … as a confidant whose friend confessed dark truths she thought made her unworthy of happiness and true love.

“You might not be able to see it right now, but you hold great value,” I’d said to all of these precious people. “I see your value. And I am here to remind you when you forget.”

I have a dear friend who has written a literary masterpiece coming out in April that “illuminates one highly dysfunctional family’s tentative, desperate crawl toward a life of meaning and worth.” My friend says it happened largely because I believed in her. What Katrina doesn’t understand is that I had no choice. Her gift was so obvious and so needed in this hurting world I simply could not let her give up.

While working on the manuscript for my third book a few weeks ago, I needed grammar assistance. I knew exactly who to go to for help.

“Thank you, literary genius,” I texted Katrina after she provided exactly what I needed.

“You’re welcome, soul changer,” she wrote back.

I began to cry.

Out of all the things I could be in this world, I couldn’t think of anything better than that.

Soul changer

I never had to ask my friend what she meant by the term.

I knew exactly what it meant because of the experiences I had with my husband, my former student, and my child.

It means seeing someone’s inner light when he cannot see it for himself. It means putting your hands protectively around her light through upheavals and uncertainties so the precious light doesn’t diminish. It means reminding people of the beautiful things they know, but tend to forget, about themselves.

And I don’t do it for others due to noble reasons; I do it because it is what I hope someone will do for me. And because certain people in my life have done it for me.

One night Avery was playing her guitar and singing her heart out. Suddenly, I remembered an uplifting video I wanted to show her. As a self-professed “fan of adorable old people,” I knew Avery would enjoy seeing this video showing the impact of familiar songs on despondent seniors in a retirement home. The video was so touching and so personal, the newscaster lost his composure at the end of the segment.

After seeing the way the guitar-playing music therapist brought foot taping and hand clapping to the nearly lifeless seniors who began to sing along, Avery jumped up with excitement. “Music therapist? I never knew there was such a thing! I could do that, Mama! I want to do that!”

“There is very strong connection between music and memories,” I repeated from the news clip. “Just imagine. You could transport elderly people back to a beautiful time in their lives. You could help them remember their best memories and remind them of who they are.”

Soul changer

It suddenly occurred to me that we all have instruments in which we can change people’s souls. Some instruments are more obvious than others, but we all have them. Sadly, some people may never even know they’ve changed someone’s soul.

Soul changers

Thank goodness, they are all around us. Thank goodness, they are within us.

My friends, what an important role each of you play in this often-hurting world. You have the power and the instrument to help someone remember these critical truths: You are worthy. You hold value. You are not alone. 

Perhaps you do it with strong hugs or comfort food delivered right to their doors.
Perhaps you do it with a make-up brush and healing hands.
Perhaps you do it with long drives, quiet presence, or faithful prayers.
Maybe it is your green thumb or the tender way you wipe tears.
Maybe it’s the way you remember people’s names and say them with love.
Maybe it’s the way you bring humor to heavy situations or drop everything when needed.
Maybe it’s the way you always know when to pick up the phone or send a hand-written card.

Soul changers

Sometimes all we need to believe in ourselves is one person to remind us of what we already know.

And like a familiar tune from long ago, just a few notes is all we need to start tapping our toes and singing the lyrics we never forgot. And low and behold, we find it’s just the anthem we need to carry on.

That, my dear friends, is what I want to be. That is the essence of what I found myself longing for after hearing Rachel Scott's story, after watching The Mission for the first time and every time after when I listened to the soundtrack with my eyes closed. That's the quintessential Mark Maker that I want to be, the one people remember as the changer and caretaker of souls. Even just one.

I know that I truly loved my work with The Healing Journey, even though it brought up a lot of difficult things for me in the dark of night, and I know that I would have thrown my whole self into my massage therapy, had I been able to complete the training. I continually gravitate toward these professions of healing and helping, because that's who I am. That's what I wanna be. Now that my body is in a state of constant rebellion I can't accomplish the goals I once had for myself, but the delicious thing is that I can be a soul changer and a caretaker of hearts even from the depths of my own pain and from the cushions of my couch. It doesn't seem like such an unattainable goal after all, framed in this kind of concept. The very very best part? I know that I've already met this goal many times over, but each time will be beautiful all over again. Also, when you invest in the people around you, they tend to turn around and take care of you right back, which I've experienced much of. Now that I'm more dependent than ever, I have a lot of good people who have my back. Give and receive, ebb and flow.

Suddenly the next 28 years don't seem so much of a burden anymore.

I really need to have sex with my husband. Not just want, although that's definitely a factor, but need. The problem is… we're not exactly having sex these days, at least not on a regular basis.

It came up in a talk we had as we drove back from the pain doctor last week. I am regularly flirting with him, throwing out double entendres and dirty jokes, making sure to touch him and get Physical Touch in there, and I get chuckles out of him and sometimes a bit of reciprocating physical affection, but more often than not it's just a verbal acknowledgment of the joke and an implied rejection in the silence that follows. Sometimes I get an overt rejection, and rarely rarely rarely does he actually take me up on the offer.

I mean, I get why this is. His reasons are perfectly valid and acceptable, but that doesn't lessen the sting of rejection or the cumulative hunger and longing. It's stress, you see. Our life is super mega stressful right now because of the finances and my physical ailments, and it's been building and building and no matter what we do it just seems to keep piling up around us like a big, invisible grave and I just want to scream because it's just so hard. I feel like I can do anything, take on any challenge, with Drogo by my side, but the stress is eating away at him and burying him deep in soft, suffocating layers and I just don't know how much by my side he is anymore.

I'm a very sexual creature. I am, and I own that. (It's remarkable to be able to say that without shame; something I would never have been able to do a year or more ago!) It keeps me feeling emotionally connected, it relieves stress, it fights pain, and it regulates my mood and keeps me some above the incessant swirling blackness of depression. Being celibate on my terms is one thing, but this enforced dry spell? I'm not handling it well. He said that stress has killed his libido, and okay, that's valid. That's legitimate. But it hasn't killed mine, at least not entirely. Granted, I don't want to have sex as much as I did anymore. I just don't have the energy, I'm usually feeling crappy, and I just… don't. But I have never, ever turned him away when he makes advances. I know that if I give it a minute or two I'll get into it and want to proceed, and sure enough, that's what happens. It's just… you can only be turned down so often before it's just not even worth trying anymore.

I'm constantly flirting, trying to initiate… and now I understand the stories told by men with frigid wives, wives who have lost interest or gotten too busy and distracted with the family. I so get it now. The awful part? The awful part is that I know specifically several men and women who would jump into bed with me if I so much as gave half a consent. I can name them, count them on my fingers right now, but the only thing stopping me is loyalty and love to my husband. It just… it hurts, you know? I know it's not about me, but after a while you just kind of start to wonder, is it me? Do you even want to be in this marriage with me? Why am I so undesirable to you? How can I be such a hot commodity to everyone else, but you won't give me the time of day? And I can't… I can't do that anymore. So I guess I'm going to stop trying. What's the point? It only ever works when he feels in the mood anyway, so why bother? I'm so tired of getting turned down, turned away. Take your stress and leave me the hell alone.

…he doesn't even cuddle me anymore. The loving byplay of yesteryear is gone, and I am so achingly empty and alone. He knows how I feel-- I've not been secretive about this--but I suppose he feels as helpless as I do. He understands it, too. His comments and conversation on the topic makes that blatantly clear. But I just want to feel loved again… I know he loves me-- he says so. (Usually after I've said it first.) But I don't feel it. I feel like a nuisance, a burden, a more or less welcome roommate, an expensive pet maybe. No, he cuddles and caresses the cats more than he does me, so I don't even rank that high.

It hurts. It just hurts. And I don't know how to fix it except to fix myself and get better so there won't be any more crazy bills and not enough money in a paycheck for our basic necessities plus my medical needs and he won't withdraw every night into his man cave and while away the hours not thinking, not feeling, until he climbs into bed and falls asleep.

I know he loves me. But why can't he suck it up and show me? I want that more than anything in the world right now.

Update-- After posting this, I went ahead and succumbed to my grief and the body wracking sobs, though I tried to keep it mostly quiet. Somehow, Drogo has this freaky, uncanny talent of knowing 99% of the time when I'm crying and where I'm at, and today was no exception. I was just picking up my laptop again to edit the phrasing on some of the words (can't even remember now…) when he came into the room, laid down just behind me, and wrapped me up in a big, spooning embrace. That, of course, made me lose it even further, but I feel like I did a good job pretending that I was unaffected, even if he could completely see right through it. At first I thought that he was going to bed but it was much too early for that, so when I guessed/asked about it he answered wryly but truthfully.

As we lay there, ensconced in one another's arms, I found my courage and slowly spoke of most of what I'd written here, not even bothering to change the words. a.) I found them in the first place and I can re-use them if I so desire, b.) they applied so perfectly to the present situation.

Anyway, he vowed that he would be more affectionate with me, said that sometimes he forgets I need the touchy feelies so much. I really appreciated that (still do), and the conversation was quite productive. I feel much more loved, and in fact he answered one of my questions with a surprising yet pretty much protected wet boy. He retreats into his man cave and immerses himself in a fantasy world (whether it's games with the guys, anime, stumbling websites, etc.) partly because he just doesn't like seeing me sick all of the time. Who does? I reframed the question for myself, trying to imagine Drogo in my place and mine in his, and I can honestly say that I have zero confidence that I would not immediately do the same. I would hate to see Drogo sick day in and day out, being helpless to do a damn thing about it, and feeling like a big and clumsy oaf if I try to help him with day to day tasks. No, I completely understand why he does as he does, or at least well enough, but that doesn't lessen the sting or sort out the snarl of emotions.

I'm optimistic about the future. When he realizes there's a problem and says he's going to do something about it, he damn well does it. I don't expect to get more sex, and honestly this wasn't a ploy for more. If I can't get it without resorting to cheap parlor tricks and frosted glass bottles, then I can do without. I'm just really happy that he understands that this is a big deal for me and wants to make it better. I love that man. Oh, and he says that he loves me "lots and lots" :)

Right now I'm in "anger" and possibly "denial". I'm so pissed off at what I've lost, what I have to deal with, what I must endure… I'm just sick of it. Honestly, I'm SO over this.

I continue to deteriorate, despite my best efforts. I can't remember what it's like to have a normal, healthy day. The last time I had a day that I could consider "good" (read: less pain than usual, no limping and stiffness, no flu like symptoms to speak of) was… the 2nd week of April. The weekend that my friends came and cleaned my house for me.

I keep racking up new symptoms, tallying up the worsening of existing symptoms, and I continue to battle the medical system for appointments and diagnoses and whatnot. I am very pleased with the pain doc I finally found, and I think it's going to be a beautiful, long-term relationship.

But seriously… I just have this deep seated anger that I can't shake. What I'm going through isn't fair, it isn't right, and I'm just too young and generally amazing to be incapacitated so! There is so much that I could be doing to better the world around me, but what am I doing? Lying in bed, posting inane things on Facebook, and sleeping (or not). I feel like my life is being wasted, frankly… and that pisses me off. 

I had such promise, such dreams, so many talents, and they are being wasted. I don't feel like I'm contributing anything of worth to the world, or even the relationships that I hold dearest and closest. What do you do when you feel like your life has lost purpose and meaning? When you feel like you have lost purpose and meaning?

It's like… I still have these shreds of rebellion and hope that refuse to die out, but I'm not sure how to feed them right now. I'm just so… lost. I realized the other day (or was it today?) that even when we get my pain under control and some/most of my symptoms managed and handled… I will never go back to "normal". I guess I've been holding on to this fantasy that when I can finally get my pain managed that everything will stabilize and that I'll go back to being the same bouncy, energetic, productive person that I used to be. It's finally hitting me that my life is forever altered. I have no idea what my future looks like-- will it be full of the same untold suffering, day in and day out? Will I ever have a recovery to speak of? Am I going to spend the rest of my life just surviving?

Hell, I don't even know how to adequately articulate all of this. I can't explain what I'm feeling, because I really don't understand it myself. I just know that I'm angry, very very angry, and very sorrowful. I worked so hard to come to like instead of loathe myself, and now here I am again… I feel like all of my hard work has been undone, because I really don't like the person that I am right now. I mean, I like who I am inside well enough, I guess… I'm okay… but I hate the life I have now. I didn't choose this, I didn't ask for it, and I don't want it. Why me? Like, seriously, what the fuck?!

I'm also super pissed off at what this has done to my marriage. We're making it work, and we definitely love each other and all that jazz, but honestly it's hard. Marriage and relationships are hard to begin with, especially when you've got the baggage that I do, but with all of this chronic illness shit on top of it? It's like the odds are stacked against me so high and rising that I can't help but feel I unwittingly made an enemy somewhere who's in charge of all the cosmic, circumstantial shit. I hate how stressed Drogo is, I hate that the stress has killed our sex life, I hate all of the bills piling up and how inadequate it makes him feel when it's no fault of his own at all (and when he's actually borne up under this remarkably well!), and I hate being "that couple" that always has to ask for help from everyone around them. I hate that we don't have many friends, that we can't go out and do fun stuff, and that it's just such a struggle for so long. We have this morbid inside joke that we're ready for our sunshine and rainbows now! Any day, really. lol. But it's the truth. This is just so hard, on so many levels, and I'm sick of it. It's hard enough to have all of the sensations you experience be unpleasant ones day in and day out, but on top of that there's all of the emotional agony and stress to just exacerbate things.

I also hate that I'm fat now. Yeah, yeah, I'm still attractive, blah blah blah, but I'm over 200 lbs now. I have never been this heavy in my life, and it pisses me off to NO END that I try to eat well and I exercise as I can and I got off of the stupid meds that were helping me to gain weight, but I just keep gaining and gaining and I don't see much I can do different at this point. I mean, it's not like I'm eating any junk food at all. We spend $50 on groceries each week for both of us, combined, and Drogo is practically starving (I feel) to make sure that I get enough to eat. He is starting to realize that he needs to eat more, thank goodness, but it's not so bad because he's always been a rather spare eater in general. But I hate that he has to make that decision, and that we have to clip coupons and be so spare and careful in our choices because we have so many fucking bills to pay. I'm tired of actually coming up against the decisions of whether to buy food, gas, or medicine.

I know I'll work through this and eventually (lord I hope so) reach "acceptance", but right now… I'm just wallowing in the anger. Maybe it'll give me the fuel I need to keep going. It's either anger or soul killing despair, so I'll choose the more lively of the two.

I feel like what I'm feeling (and thinking, when I'm coherent enough) at this point in time can be summarized by the two following Skillet songs, "Never Surrender" and "Sick of It." Never Surrender, especially, is almost verbatim what my heart is sobbing to itself. (Emphasis mine, for especially applicable text.)

"Never Surrender"

Do you know what it's like when
You're scared to see yourself?
Do you know what it's like when
You wish you were someone else
Who didn't need your help to get by?
Do you know what it's like
To wanna surrender?

[Chorus:]
I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow
I don't wanna live like this today
Make me feel better
I wanna feel better
Stay with me here now
And never surrender

Do you now what it's like when
You're not who you wanna be?
Do you know what it's like to
Be your own worst enemy
Who sees the things in me I can't hide?
Do you know what it's like
to wanna surrender?

[Chorus]

Make me feel better,
You make me feel better,
You make me feel better,
Put me back together.

[Chorus]

Put me back together,
Never surrender,
Make me feel better.
You make me feel better,
Stay with me here now,
And never surrender.

"Sick Of It"

If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!

When everything you do
Don't seem to matter.
You try but it's no use
Your world is getting blacker.

When every time you fail
Has no answer.
Every empty promise made
Is a reminder.

No one can make this better
Take control, it's now or never!

Are you sick of it?
Raise your hands,
Get rid of it!
While there's a fighting chance.
Are you over it?
Bored to death?
Have you had enough regret?
Take a stand, raise your hands...

If you're sick of it!
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!
If you're sick of it!
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!

Every single day
I chase my own tail
Like a rat inside a maze
Gotta get, gotta get, get away

I'm running out of time
For me to break this.
I'm tired of feeling like
I'm never gonna make it.

No one can make this better
Take control, it's now or never!

Are you sick of it?
Raise your hands,
Get rid of it!
While there's a fighting chance.
Are you over it?
Bored to death?
Have you had enough regret?
Take a stand, raise your hands...

If you're sick of it!
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!
If you're sick of it!
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!

I'm tired of it
I'm over it
I'm bored of it

Gotta fix this
I'm sick of it!

Raise your hands
If you're sick
If you're sick of it
Raise your hands
If you're sick
If you're sick of it

Sick of it!
Raise your hands,
Get rid of it!
While there's a fighting chance.
Are you over it?
Bored to death?
Have you had enough regret?
Take a stand, raise your hands...

Are you sick of it?
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!

Get rid of it!
If you're sick
If you're sick
If you're sick of it!

So I've been having a hard time lately. A really hard time. Emotionally, physically, financially… you name it, it's been tough.

I've been really struggling with this feeling of emptiness inside me that I've named Loneliness. Rather than try to explain myself aaaaaall over again, I'm going to copy and paste a conversation I had with some friends on Facebook today.

 

• Joan Kelley You having a bad day?

  15 hours ago · Like
• 

  Cassandra Russom Bad couple of months.

  11 hours ago · Like
• 

  Joan Kelley I'm sorry. I can't tell you it will get better. I can tell you that you will come to terms with it and reach peace. But you have to morn your losses and that's hard to do when they're still happening. Gentle hugs.

  10 hours ago · Unlike · 1
• 

  Cassandra Russom It's not that… grieving I can do. I'm no stranger to grief, sorrow, anger, etc. It's the loneliness, the reaching out to find no one there, the abandonment and sorrow I feel when I look around and see no one, and the anguish at knowing my husband is purposefully distancing himself because that is the only way he know how to cope with seeing his only love in pain.
  
  Everyone has their lives, and they are living them, and I'm left behind in the dust because I cannot move. I'm forgotten, frozen in time and stranded in place by my pain and sickness. No one has time for the cripple. Everyone has lives, issues, problems, plans… and I don't fit in anywhere. I'm all alone...

  8 hours ago · Like
• 

  Cassandra Russom I've ALWAYS had friends. I've always been independent. This is such a first for me, I can't even comprehend how to deal with it. I actually got on here the other day, bit my lip and ducked my head, bared my heart and asked for help… and got mostly crickets. That hurt so bad… I still cry about that if I think about it for more than a split second. I appreciate those who did respond to my cry for help, but it wasn't enough, wasn't right, wasn't what I was looking for or what I needed. So I continue on, empty and lonely and just… lost, I guess.

  8 hours ago · Like
• 

  Joan Kelley Self pity, Cassie? You're braver than that. Flannery O'Connor had lupus and wrote best selling novels from her bed. You are not being left behind by life or your friends. Your life is what you make it, and you can make it something even from your bed. As one writer to another, I'll tell you I am working on a novel. I've had one book published. It didn't do so great, but it's a damn good book and if I go tomorrow, I'll know I've made my mark on the world in one small way. Come on, girl. Up by those boot straps! I know you have passion in you. Find it.

  7 hours ago · Like
• 

  Cassandra Russom Dude, I just want people to fucking care about me. What's wrong with that? And I think I've earned some self-pity time after being so damn brave so long through so much. I'm like, never grumpy and I'm always happy and cheerful… what kind of sick freak deals with this kind of pain and isn't a raving bitch? Anyway, the self pity party mood will pass, even though the deep craving for connection won't. I've been growing hollower and hollower over the past 2 months… I know I can keep going. I know I will. I know I'm still a badass and I will make my mark on the world, as you say. But… I just want a little comfort, someone to hold my hand and warm my heart while I kick ass.

  7 hours ago · Like
• 

  Rose Suntken I'm sorry you aren't feeling connected, that people are distancing themselves from you. Everyday that you survive the despair you make a mark. Every moment. You are important and though you may not feel loved right now, you are, very deeply.

  7 hours ago · Unlike · 1
• 

  Joan Kelley Cassie. I've been offering a connection almost since I first saw you on the fb site. Maybe the friendship I offer is not what you want and that's OK. And yes you've earned self pity but it does you no good. It is not your friend. And I know when you're ready, you'll leave it behind. But you don't have to be cheerful all the time although that's one of the things I admire about you. Lots of us care about you. Admire you. And would comfort you if allowed. Ate you site it's all us ignoring you? Maybe there's a little bit of you pushing us away? You're not going to come up with 2 dozen close loving friends. You'll be lucky to count them on one hand. But they're there. Waiting on you.

  5 hours ago · Unlike · 2
• 

  Summer Dawn Johnston Believe me, if I were closer, you wouldn't be able to get rid of me!!! I think of you every day and I know Facebook on my phone doesn't like me, so if I miss a post, tag my ass or message me! I'll be more than happy to help on any way I can!!!!!! 

  5 hours ago · Unlike · 1
• 

  Cassandra Russom Joan, I know you have. I'm not spurning that in any way, believe me. I think it's the lack of physical, concrete friendships that I'm mourning. I don't have any good friends HERE, Corey is gone all day, I'm forced to stay home b/c sickness, blah blah blah. I value the friendships I have here online more than I ever thought I would, especially when I'm not in a funk! lol. Are you sure I am not going to come up with 2 dozen close loving friends? Cause that'd be pretty rad. I dunno. I dunno what I'm really asking for, needing. I just… I just want my mommy? I don't know! I just know that there's a big hollow place inside of me that's all sad and empty and I feel all alone and lonely and I don't know why or how to fix it and I'm just so SAAAAAAAAAD!

  3 hours ago · Like

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! 

3 hours ago · Unlike · 1

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?

Why me?!????

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!