This is one of those bad days. And weeks. And months. Actually, let’s go nuts and say years… So far 2014 has sucked pretty bad. As was the last two or three months of 2013.
I’m in pain. I can’t work. I have to walk the dog, even though I rather struggle to walk from the pain (so I hook him up with harness and a lead and he actually pulls me, otherwise I can’t really go much of anywhere). And I’ve had to now turn down my wedding invitation to my cousin’s wedding, which I was really looking forward to seeing, because it’s about 300 miles away in Liverpool and I have trouble making it to the corner of my street (I live on the second house down from the corner). So that really sucks too.
I resent the fact I am “too ill to work”… My boss’ absolute opinion. Which is why he’s given me notice to stop working there. Apparently it seems that they quite like it when you turn up and work and stuff for them to give you money. They also apparently aren’t all that elated when you, well, can’t. Even when it’s not your fault and can’t move or walk or sit or stand. Not without a crapload of help, a back brace, and so many painkillers you have no idea what your name is, let alone where you are, or what your job even is… Opiate-based painkillers are just legalised haze of mild tripping for me. They’re not too great, but they make the pain kinda go away, so they’re also pretty good at the same time.
It can all get a bit confusing.
I’ve been trying to work from home. But I am currently locked out of my work laptop. Again. So I’m not happy. And rather bored. Despite the fact I’m fairly sure I will not do a very good job at wherever it is that is expected of me – if I actually manage to remember what it is. Data analysis is not so compatible with being three-sheets-to-the-wind.
I’m also staying in living room because feel mighty depressed and there’s naughty things in kitchen. Like knives. OK, they’re permanently blunt – for good reason – but it’s still not good to be there right now. The painkillers exasperate it all – give me that detached and numb feeling you get with depression. And nauseous. Very nauseous. Then the pain also makes me feel nauseous, and then disinterested and angry and upset and frustrated. As well as pointless, pitiful, and tearful.
It all basically replicates feeling that awful darkness coming back – so I’m not sure if it is, or whether everything together is just mimicking it all very well.
So I don’t want to eat anything, or do anything, or care about anything. I’ve had awful panic attacks, agoraphobia is having a party in my head, I’m getting awful vertigo between the pills, the pain and the fear, and I very nearly wanted to end it all yesterday.
Basically, I’m in pain and feel pretty bad. Pretty lonely. Pretty pointless. Pretty lost. Pretty sad.
I wish there was an A&E unit for broken brains, for when you feel like this. Stockpiled with tea, cuddles, puppy dogs, cats, and specially trained people to listen to you cry. Why is there no emergency services dedicated to people with conditions that make you want to do very bad things to yourself…? Unless you’ve actually overdosed, or actually there’s not much a regular ambulance crew can do for you. I would certainly appreciate one that doesn’t come with defibs and bandages, but instead comes with a listening ear, a Starbucks barista, an incredibly cute little doggy or adorable cat, and maybe a stockpile of emergency chocolate. One with trained professionals who know how to stop you from wanting to run to the kitchen for a knife, or the medicine cupboard for everything inside it. One that comes when you’re pushed beyond your limits and you need someone to stop you needing the real ambulance.
I have an appointment with the doctor again. I’m going to be asking to be dumped on a CBT waiting list. I need help dealing with being left suddenly incapable of doing anything without a boatload of painkillers and angry stubbornness. I hope I manage to stay in one piece until then. The last time I put myself in hospital was 15 years ago… I’d like to continue to be able to say that. I really don’t want the end of that sentence to suddenly read “today…”
Doggy (that would be Soul, my loving Staffy mixup) is with me now, lying on me… protecting me. In the state I’m in now, I don’t want to contemplate what I may have considered if he wasn’t here.
Luckily, he is.