Wednesday 29 December 2010
This is no Life
3 days of no activity – nothing but pain. Lying on the sofa eating sweets like they are drugs – pain so bad that i want to die. Is it a crime to really want to die? I don’t mean dramatic suicide attempts, what i mean is that when pain is so bad that there is no respite all i can think of is ending the pain. Tramadol, paracetamol, ibrufen cocktails take the edge off but leave me tearful and woozy.
Tuesday 21 December 2010
Whispers of Pain
A Tramadol, codeine, paracetamol and ibrufen cocktail today – but this also means no sleep. Pain is still lurking at the edges of my fuddled mind. My body is in so much pain – a combination of a cruel and incurable skin disease and a morbidly obese body culminates in an existence that only vast amounts of painkillers allow me to move without needles of lightening shooting up my body. Wooziness ebbs and flows through my mind and the vandal in my mind is currently stoned. He has been pretty chatty the last few days…whispering nasty thoughts into my mind. Thoughts that make my toes curl with shame and my tummy flip with fear.
Why does the vandal in my head do this to me? Thoughts of mindless torture of innocent creatures. Yesterday it was flitting thoughts of boiling my beloved dog. How awful am I for thinking such depraved and nasty stuff. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not acting out these thoughts in any shape or form but the sheer fact that this stuff even enters my mind is highly disturbing.Today Vandal kept going on and on at me to take the pills – all of them and end it forever – this one is getting hard to ignore again. What stops me I will never really know but something somehow always does. However like the nasty torture thoughts, these suicidal thoughts leave me reeling in a mental disarray, with the urge to scream at the world ‘ I want to get off now’.
My mouth is dry and my brain is in slow mo, nausea tickles my tummy and grips my throat and today i do not really want to anything much. I have to wash because i am now smelling quite ripe. That horrible sweet rotting flesh smell, emanating from my private parts, is forever in my nose and no matter how much i wash my body, clean my clothes or bleach my home, the smell never quite goes. People who know me assure me that it is only me who smells it but i live in constant fear that one day they will smell it too.
And so, finally at 7.30am in the morning i am starting to feel drowsy and so I will seize this opportunity to finally rest my head and body for a few hours before putting on my brave face for my mother who is currently visiting. Three days to Christmas, i wonder if Santa will bring me a cure – not bloody likely!
Why does the vandal in my head do this to me? Thoughts of mindless torture of innocent creatures. Yesterday it was flitting thoughts of boiling my beloved dog. How awful am I for thinking such depraved and nasty stuff. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not acting out these thoughts in any shape or form but the sheer fact that this stuff even enters my mind is highly disturbing.Today Vandal kept going on and on at me to take the pills – all of them and end it forever – this one is getting hard to ignore again. What stops me I will never really know but something somehow always does. However like the nasty torture thoughts, these suicidal thoughts leave me reeling in a mental disarray, with the urge to scream at the world ‘ I want to get off now’.
My mouth is dry and my brain is in slow mo, nausea tickles my tummy and grips my throat and today i do not really want to anything much. I have to wash because i am now smelling quite ripe. That horrible sweet rotting flesh smell, emanating from my private parts, is forever in my nose and no matter how much i wash my body, clean my clothes or bleach my home, the smell never quite goes. People who know me assure me that it is only me who smells it but i live in constant fear that one day they will smell it too.
And so, finally at 7.30am in the morning i am starting to feel drowsy and so I will seize this opportunity to finally rest my head and body for a few hours before putting on my brave face for my mother who is currently visiting. Three days to Christmas, i wonder if Santa will bring me a cure – not bloody likely!
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