So my brother/roomie blabbed to my sister about my friend's generosity. Now my sister is insisting that I make an appointment, keep her up to date, and yes, she wants to pay for it.
Dealing with this pain issue has made me turn inward, become more reserved, more hesitant to share, and certainly reluctant to talk about it. More to the point: I hate to talk about it. Blogging is my only outlet, except when I mention the amount of pain I'm in on a given day to someone who asks.
So now I am expected in no uncertain terms to produce results: a doctor's appointment. And I just don't feel like I can accept the help. I've been doing my best to isolate myself from others. This kind of opens that up. Maybe it's healthier, but it is emotional very painful.
Because the thing is, if I share this, if I really open up, all I have is the raw power of the emotional and physical pain. And I start voicing my questions like:
Why me? What have I done that was bad enough to deserve this? I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but do they really warrant this?
What if I never get better? What if this is my life for here on out? Meaning, what if my life basically ended at 27 and now I'm supposed to just lay in bed watching Hulu and going through the motions of living?
Will I ever be happy again or will there just be stages of more pain vs less pain?
Will I ever get to run again, do cartwheels again, dance again?
Will I ever be a fit enough parent to adopt children as I was on track to do before this accident?
Will I ever get to be a doctor or is that just a stupid delusion and nothing more?
At what point will I just lay in bed in my own filth and never get out again?
This sounds like a pity party gone awry, but really I'm questioning the fabric of existence. I'm tired of hoping and having it not work out.
What do you people want from me? Can't I just give up? That's what I really want.
How can I trust you? Huh? How can I?
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