When September Ends.
I recently posted about the fact that I find 80 or so percent of my life painful or unfulfilling. My inability to get out of bed for any reason continues to make me wonder why I'm still alive.
Even the very good things are floating in a sea of sadness.
I wish I was a little bit worse of a person. Then at least I could get some of what I want through guilt.
Your phone isn't being weird, you're just so f-ing clumsy that you hit the wrong icons. ALL THE TIME.
I do not even know how you keep turning down the brightness on your laptop.
Today is the with anniversary of the illness that ended my normal life. It was eight years ago to the day that my left leg swelled up so dramatically that I thought my foot would tear my shoe open.
A friend, today, coincidentally, posted that aging is hard, aging while disabled is harder, but both are preferable to the alternative.
Except no they aren’t. I can’t do my job, I can’t participate in my hobbies, and I can’t go see my boyfriend, who says he loves me, but not enough to actually come see me.
So yes. I cannot change many facts about myself, and I hate them so much that I would prefer to not be here. These feelings have come back around, and I don’t want them. I want to know how to make them go away and feel some sort of accomplishment, or real joy. Even the good stuff is floating on a much deeper sea of sadness.
Make it all stop hurting so much. Physically and emotionally. Make something better than this.
You weren't lying to me before, but now you have changed your behavior to suit the company. I guess it will make your trip more pleasant, but I F-ING HATE HER AND I HATE TO SEE YOU PANDERING TO HER IN GOD DAMN PUBLIC.
You are really making me look bad in other people's eyes, and I HATEHATEHATE it. Please stop making the fire engulf my brain.
Please?
I might resort to childish actions.
My injured leg is healing, but still isn't letting me use the lifting aid to raise it. I need to have enough strength in the leg to hold it still while I use my arm strength to pull it up. Any torque in the knee is painful enough to make me cry.
So I try to stiffen my leg, and the bone in my calf - tibia, fibula, I don't know, maybe both - starts causing me pain. If I try to push through, my muscles literally give up, like my conscious mind has no say, there. If someone else lifts my leg with both calf and thigh support, it's fine, but that's not how people seem to want to work. Everyone looks at me like I'm insane when I mention the thigh.
I don't know if I'll ever be small enough to stand, again. My left leg absolutely cannot handle weight bearing, and both my arms and my right leg are not strong enough to hold me up without its help. I tried counting calories to lose weight for a month. My forearm skin got loose and floppy, and I have turkey neck, now, but my thighs and hips are no smaller.
I thought of buying a scale for the lift, but they're pricey. So I don't know what I weigh now, either.
So I can't get up at all, now. My new OT goal is to return to sitting bedside, so that I may do a more effective job washing myself. Ideally, I'd like to see my boyfriend again, someday, and I'd like for us to get physical. I miss him. I miss human touch. I specifically miss touching *him*. Either way, I'd like to be really clean, but I wouldn't even consider physical intimacy if I wasn't. It's unthinkable to me. I thought about trying to date someone else. There are disabled woman fetishists out there, I'm sure I could find someone, somehow. We're open; if I dated someone else, I'd just have to tell him. He's not a jealous human.
The thing is, I *am* a jealous human. The thought of dating a second person to break up the loneliness makes me angry at my boyfriend. I get angry that the thought of me with someone else doesn't bother him. I do not understand how no jealousy works. I'm his, why is he ok sharing me with any random person? I don't love that he's in another woman's bed right now, although it doesn't kill me the way that it did when I was a secret. I was right, and being acknowledged as primary by all involved parties does make the situation much more tolerable for me.
This is the only kind of relationship that he wants, and he's the only person that I want to be in a relationship with. That's why I agreed to this. That doesn't mean that I'm OK with zero in person time.
That's where I'm at right now. I haven't seen him since February, and it's July. I know he loves me, and we usually have some kind of contact every day, but I miss him. My fingertips and my lips miss him. A lot.
Under the influence of drugs that you don't usually take, and not under the influence of the ones that you do can change your behavior.
In some cases, it can reveal underlying feelings, but in others, it can mask the big ones up top that still exist.
It explains why I got hurt well enough for me to forgive, completely. Just putting this in here for continuity, in case someone reads this. Wintle and I talked it out. I'm actually coming to terms with the second girlfriend, because even knowing that he's going on a trip with her doesn't feel like someone is physically squeezing my heart. He used the kind of phrases that made me feel validated. He told me that he discusses me with her, and she knows that I'm there, and that I'm a "keeper".
So that's not my problem, today.
Today my biggest problem is my body. My stomach feels like everything I've ever eaten has turned into a liquid at a temperature too high to be comfortable, and I am too handicapped to use a toilet (I cannot afford enough help to get me to a bedside commode, it would take two people being here 24/7, because who knows when you'll get a stomach ache?). So I'm filthy. I will be cleaned up soon, I can afford *some* help. That will make some of me feel better, but my other problem is beyond help.
I fell and hurt my left leg. It's healing, but there's so much swelling. It feels like my pants are too painfully tight on my legs, but I'm not wearing any pants.
I used to believe that our love was strong enough that it could withstand anything, even if you opened your heart to more people. None of those people would ever be me.
None of those people would ever have the history that we have.
They would have their own connection with you, but they wouldn't have *our* connection.
But today you forgot that we scheduled a phone call. Forgot. It's been more than a week since we've had a good face-to-face chat, and I was really looking forward to it. You weren't excited enough about it to remember that we'd even made the plans.
*You* chose the day. If you were considering letting the wind and your date take you where it may, you could have chosen a different day. But you didn't. Planning a date is a promise. Not being available for it without a tangible reason is an insult. You weren't just late, you went radio silence. That's an insult.
You've never, ever treated me like this, even when you were married to someone else, and I was a secret.
Now, I'm afraid that our connection got severed, but the cut was so far away that I didn't get to see when it happened.