I am horrible at trying to articulate how I feel lately, about anything and everything. It becomes a garbled mess that no one but my mother seems to understand and she is iffy sometimes.
This hurts… How does it hurt? Umm, it just does?
I think… No, I know… Oh hell, just whatever.
That thingy… you know what I’m talking about, the thingy! Well, it hurts again…
I do not know if I’m going back to college next semester. It is the pain… Does not seem like a good reason? Sorry you feel that way about my life?!?
Most of these thoughts, and actual conversations, usually end with some type of hurting. But that is my life lately: my pain and my depression because of my pain. I am determined to finish college and retrieve my degree, then go on to Graduate school and I will be getting my PhD, even if I am 30 and working on it!
A week and a half until I see the rheumatologist and my knee is beyond swollen! Somehow, tramadol is not cutting the pain and PT definitely killed me today. My ITB (a ligament that runs down your leg, hip to knee) had to be stretched today… Whoever thought it was a good idea to stretch said ligament on a Fibromyalgia patient with a foam roller and a tough hand should feel what I felt today.
I screamed so loud in my PT room that other patients came in concerned.
I just want today to be over.
if I had bone cancer the way my arthritis flare-up has been today. Brutal does not even cover the pain…
Time for painkillers and bed.
I always have this need to read: books, magazines, newspapers, articles on random topics, even the backs of products and drinks when I’m bored. Reading has never been something I find difficult. I struggle everyday just to function and deal with my pain. But writing? Oh, how bittersweet.
I can physically write but it is difficult and hurts. I want to write a book or a short story or even a sentence that will evoke emotions and bring about a sense of pride in my own writing. I cannot write pieces that are fiction. Analytical bullshit, check! Historical papers about subject that are seriously pedantic and overrated, check! But fiction? The one that eludes me is sometimes the only thing that can keep me going.
I can’t shack this feeling of loneliness. Today hasn’t been easy: too many tests, too much stress, and beyond too much pain. I’ve accepted that I will always be in physical pain, but this emotional part? I don’t know how long I can deal with this…
Anyone else lonely out there? I love talking to people… *hint**hint* My message box sure looks empty…
"It occurred to me that there was no difference between men, in intelligence or race, so profound as the difference between the sick and the well."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald