Category Archives: yelling

Suicide…? WTF?

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Suicide…?  WTF?

I have always thought that I was impervious to silly antics like suicide or shaving my head or..  I don’t know…  all that “crazy” shit that only insane, weak people do.  I always thought that people who committed suicide were selfish.  I could not have been more wrong.  They are in pain and out of touch, I barely recognized what I was doing.  There is no such thing as insane, and I have never met stronger people than those that I met in the pysch ward where I went after my attempt.

I took a pair of scissors to my wrist Friday…  in the deadly direction.  Luckily the scissors were dull and I only managed to barely open the skin. It was simply luck that the scissors were dull, if they wouldn’t have been, I would have been in real trouble.  As it was I scared myself enough to go to the hospital right away.

I certainly didn’t wake up and decide that I had lost all sense of myself and it was time to die.  It was a months long process of losing touch with myself.  Months of trying to come to terms with devastating information about fibromyalgia (My brain is aging 3.5 faster than healthy humans).  Months of feeling out of touch and like I was drowning.  Knowing you are going to lose your mind is a special kind of torture.

See, it is not abnormal to fantasize about killing yourself.  When I was depressed and I was first afflicted with fibro I fantasized constantly about how I would do it.  I never meant to do it.  At that time I never would have tried..  This time I tried.  Maybe I didn’t try very hard, but I tried and that was enough.

I couldn’t see a way past the excruciating nervous pain.  I resigned myself to feeling like shit because I do have fibromyalgia.  I thought I was doing the right thing by accepting the cards dealt to me by fibromyalgia; accepting that this was it.

I have fibro and that will never go away and I will never feel human again because I have this condition.  That said, I am damn sure not letting this bitch win.  I am not always stronger but dammit I will fight as hard as I can every single day.

I realized on Sunday morning when I woke up in the psych ward that I could do better; that I could be better.  It is up to me.  I know that there will be days that I feel like total shit.  That doesn’t matter nearly as much as I thought it did.

Every single day is a chance to try harder.  Every single day is a chance to practice skills that are complicated (plans, appointments. lunches with friends).  Every single damn day is a chance to make something beautiful happen.  I have to force myself sometimes but I have never once regretted keeping my plans or forcing myself to go out.

The people that want to see me don’t care that I cannot do anything physical.  They want to hang out with me.  So I have to sit or try to participate and look like a special kind of Broken Scarecrow Clumsy McFalldown.  Point is, the game has changed, you just need to learn the new rules.

The fight is what matters.  The harder I fall, the bigger the comeback..  I broke, I was done..  However, look out..  I found her and I am ready to live.  I hate that I wasted so much time.

The things that do matter?  Well, those are easy.  I have an amazing husband who would do anything in the world to keep me happy and healthy.  I have two amazing sons who are both so successful and amazing human beings that I can barely believe I was the one that raised them.  If I accomplish nothing else, I will have accomplished them, and that is enough.

The things that matter to me alone?  Well, those things I need back.  I need to create, I need to write.  I need to love myself.. big belly and all…    It is vital that I wake and give thanks for another day in this beautiful universe; connecting with amazing humans and loving every fucking second.

I am telling my story because it is important to note that you cannot always tell when someone is going to try to kill themselves.  You cannot always tell when you are going to try it.

When I cut myself I watched it form a line of blood on my arm and it was like I was watching someone else.  I was so far away that if it had been a better pair of scissors I may not be here to tell this story at all.

I bare my soul and I write this post because every day people are taking their own life.  No one can or should ever judge them, or think they have them figured out.  No one can judge those that need help in a psychiatric hospital.  They aren’t weak.  They aren’t selfish.  They aren’t at all what most people (even myself before) think.  They are fucking brave and scared and they simply need a hand.

Be a friend.  Love one another.  It was hard to love everyone in the hospital with me, but once I tried I came back to myself and I was able to come home.  Love is vital..  love is life..  breathing and love, and many beautiful hugs…  also music.  the important stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

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I Want to Start a Commune for People With Fibromyalgia as we are the Only ones that get it.

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I have several topics I wanted to cover today.  I have started taking my notebook with me everywhere so look out warriors…  I have a lot to talk about.  Today I want to talk about injuring yourself and your relationship with your family.  This is obviously two very different topics, but they run together in my mind.

First, injuries.  I fell last thursday and rolled my ankle really bad.  I stood up, added it to the mental pain that I ignore, and continued on my merry way.  See, as you warriors know, we live in such extreme pain all the time, the new stuff doesn’t even phase us.  (mostly)  This is dangerous and we need to be careful.

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I hate the doctor, I know you hate the doctor.  I LOVE my doctor, but I still hate going.  luckily I have a good one.  Now, my ankle kept swelling and wasn’t getting better at all.  I went to Xray and it isn’t broken but it is on of those sprains that are worse than a break.

If I had listened to the voice in my head, the one saying “Meh, add it to the list” I would have had another body part that hurts forever and warriors, dammit if we don’t have enough of those.  So, even if you feel like an ass hole, GO TO the DOCTOR..  You can prevent new pain if you just go.

FAMILY TIME

Now, I am giving advice that took me years of fights and pain and anger and hurt feelings.  Hopefully, you will listen to this advice and it will resonate enough with you to make a difference.

When you get fibromyalgia you are like a leaf blowing around down the street with absolutely no idea where it is going or what it is going.  All the medical texts in the world do not help.  Trust me, I have a bachelor degree in psychology and I can explain what goes on in your brain, but that doesn’t make it any easier to understand.

Thing is though, you can live with it.  You can learn that even though you feel like your body is a giant wrecking ball of anxiety you can find a way.  I did and if I did, anyone can.  I should add I have horrible days.  I am NOT better, I just handle it in a way that works for me.

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I cannot explain why in the beginning everything is fucking terrifying.  I remember my husband making me take my son places because he figured that if I drove I wouldn’t be scared any more.  He was so very very wrong.  Not being able to deal with arguments from your kids…  damn, that needs a new paragraph.

Before you reach a place of acceptance your kids are going to drive you crazy.  Deal the best way you know how.  I would try to talk, that is what always worked for me. But once the fibro was bad I couldn’t make the right words come out.  It felt like I was speaking Arabic and they were speaking english.

That was when I ran away and stayed in my room.  I was not effective as a mother and that made me die inside, but they were better off that I hid until I got my self back..  well the new self that is.

The same thing can happen with your husband.  It is impossible at times to make the words in your head come out of your mouth.  I type..  it is why I write.  I can write fast enough to keep up with my brain.  When I try to have a conversation I find myself stumbling over words and if I am angry it is even worse.

If you start having the conversation with your loved ones and you find yourself saying “I just don’t understand” a lot, walk away, nothing is going to get accomplished in that conversation..  Trust me I have tried..  bad idea..  walk away.  Explain, you are not turning your back forever, you just need some time to cool down.

When this is happening, walk away.  I know that we should not walk away from arguments, but they were not talking about fibro.  Take a minute, type out what you are trying to say.  I should add, this was the absolute hardest part of my journey.  Learning how to communicate with my loved ones was a long arduous process, but you can do it.

Now, to the pain and talking about fibro and what you can’t do..  do other things.  On your own. try things with your family, plan outings where you are going to be able to sit down or rest.  There are a million things you can still do.  I promise.

I went to Artscape in Baltimore on the hottest weekend we have had all summer.  I had my cane.  I sat a lot.  I was very hot, but I swore before we got out of the car that I WAS doing this.  I WAS going to have a good time. I had a blast.  3 miles that day, with a LOT of water, shade, and breaks..  but not only did I do it, I had a really good time.

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Live, love, and fight for your life, you can still have one.

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