That sounds harsh. I know it. I'm sorry in advance, but I need to get this off my chest.
Lately I've been talking a lot about my crash and this whole pain deal. That's different for me. But it has been coming easier lately. To talk about this, I mean. I suppose that is some sort of progress. Probably because I have some hope for relief for the first time in a very long time. I think deep down my strong preference toward denial typically prevails. Right now I wish I'd just shut the hell up. I feel I've over-shared and it makes me feel like shit.
The more I reconnect with friends I shut out when the pain got really bad, the more they want to know about my life. I usually hide this part. I finally told a couple of friends in the last few weeks and I wished I never had.
I can't stand to hear people comment on "what you've been through" and "this ordeal" and etc. Just writing that statement feels ridiculous to me. I can't stand the sympathy even when it feels good to hear it. That may not make sense to you, but it actually makes sense to me. I wish I could pretend the last four years didn't exist, but I have nothing to fill its place and while I'm good at lying, it doesn't actually feel good.
Here's the bottom line for me: yes, this sucks and it's awful and I pretty much bitch about it all the time. But I did this. I did it to myself.
And I frankly can't go much further down this road. The fall before I started this blog (2008) I was taking so much Dilaudid and the pump was emitting so much Fentanyl that I completely checked out. My husband begged me to check back in and so eventually I did, but I have to tell you checking out was awesome. For awhile. But checking out is only a temporary fix because your brain eventually has to let it out. And that's what happened. Those months of grief I'd checked out of came roaring back all at once and it was crushing.
What I'm trying, and mostly failing, to say is that I can't stand you feeling bad for me because I can't stand feeling bad for me. At least not too much. The denial and the checking out begins again. I need to steer clear of that place.
In the next month or two I'll get back into therapy. Then my only outlet won't be this blog. But until then know that I am keeping this together by the thinnest of margins.
