I know the story of how I got to here is all over the shop, back to front, upside down and inside out but sometimes the best way to write it is how it falls and at the moment I feel broken. And scared.
This morning started with the grossest of panic attacks. I woke in a sweat, feeling swallowed by the bed, my wound site feels like a mountain, a pit in my stomach and wave after wave of feeling hopeless and worthless and a fraud and broken. With the occasional dumper of an impenetrable sense of something bad about to happen. I was brittle and weak, hopeless and scared. Not again, not now, not again, not now. I shake my hands constantly when I’m like this, like the emotion has to come out somewhere.
I fly off a FB message to my Personal Physician Steve who I’m sure LOVED waking up on a Saturday morning to his cousin’s wife freaking out on his FB.
I woke up Chef. Dear GOD that man must be developing a phobia about being woken up by me. I had a shower, went for a walk. The whole way around the block! 500 metres! Goddammit if this is going to beat me.
My left leg feels three times the size of my right and I don’t really have a sense of where it ends. I almost tripped twice and stubbed my big toe once. Apparently this is called peripheral neuropathy. I love how the medical term makes something that’s really fucked sound cool.
Personal Physician Steve and I worked out a plan of action to get me through until my GP visit on Tuesday (we think it’s a drug they introduced for the nerve pain that is interacting with my other head meds and basically hit ground zero this morning). I cried on Chef that I’m broken and scared and this wasn’t how the year was meant to start and we had been travelling so well and I’m so so sorry. He of course, held me close, told me we would so get back to great. That I would not be broken forever and look how much better I am than three weeks ago and that he loved me and that it would all be OK. How did I ever score such a beautiful man?
I checked in to FB hoping some of you beautiful people had posted some witty, silly things to make me laugh through tears, the best of emotions. Jane had posted this. Just this. It’s Australia Day here, a day growing increasingly uncomfortable in our skin – someone wrote an article somewhere saying most countries celebrate the day they were freed of colonial rule and yet we celebrate the day it started. Growing up is hard.
So valium (when my back went from debilitating and excruciatingly painful to holy crap Personal Physician Steve sent me a text saying “No reiki guru shakra chiro iridologist would be able to do anything for you … when it comes to the serious shit western medicine is the way to go”. He’s right), knowing I’m loved and knowing such big battles have been fought makes me know its worth it to keep fighting the demons, no matter their size.
Again via Ruth at Gourmet Girlfriend. Girl knows her music.
I have been hesitant posting this as it cuts pretty close for a friend of mine. But she is strong and this has a beauty about it that has me transfixed. An intense sadness but a beauty. I hope she is OK with it.
I’ll never know where you left you’re clothes
But that girl is my first clue
Such a glorious face, she gives it all away
So right now all I know is
You lied, lied
Here in this bed, you once so famously said
“You’re Frida, I’m Diego”
And if that were true
I’d take a lover and forgive you
Right now all I know is
You tell the beautiful lies, lies
And I ran to fall from them every time
Twenty three, twenty three
Had the world alive inside of me
And Anything can happen
And it will, and it does
Before long it all gets serious
And I am in your room watching you naked
For the last time
Oh is this why I loved you
You speak the most beautiful lies, lies
And I ran to fall for them every time
And you speak the most beautiful lies, lies
And I ran to fall for them every time
Is this why I loved you
Tell me, is this why I loved you