This is a Really Real Mental Health post.
This time last year I was intensely suicidal. I was tired of fighting the thoughts that so often wanted to kill me. I was tired of being in pain.
I was tired.
This year, comparatively, I’m doing really well. I don’t really get all that suicidal all that often. My pain is somewhat controlled. I’m relatively stable.
I am tired.
I’m tired of being inside. I’m tired of not going to the gym. I’m tired of missing my friends. I’m tired of hearing about people who aren’t even trying. I’m tired of working. I’m tired of avoiding the world.
And this time I know I’m not alone. I know there are lots of us that are tired.
And it’s still not fair.
None of us deserve this right now. None of us were prepared for it. None of us should have to learn to live with it.
But most of us are learning to live with it. We are doing what we’re supposed to do.
Those that aren’t, piss me off. The more we leave our houses the longer this will take, and it’s going to take a long while as it is.
Stay the fuck home.
I’m tired of living in this world even though I’m not tired of living.
I’m tired of not being able to write because there’s no life to write about.
I am tired.
This is a Really Real Health Post.
Last night hurt.
It really hurt.
I’m not sure what was different, what I ate, what has changed, but my HS is flaring and I’m also dealing with serious skin, muscle, and joint pain.
That means my inflammation is sky high right now.
And last night I hurt.
I couldn’t sleep.
I had to be up early this morning for a day full of appointments and mobility rides.
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. I got up. I laid back down.
I disturbed Wonder Woman’s sleep without meaning to.
I fell asleep at 430 am, the alarm went off at 6.
I canceled my 8am, $2 mobility ride and instead called a $20 Lyft a few hours later. I needed that extra sleep or I would have fallen apart today. This is the kind of stuff that causes a mental health relapse.
I couldn’t afford that $20 ride.
I couldn’t afford to fall apart.
And I still hurt.
And I’m sitting in a Starbucks waiting for my next ride. Nothing but time to kill. Nothing to get involved in. Sitting and scrolling Facebook endlessly because I’m not sure what else to do to occupy my time. Two more hours to go.
And I hurt.
Pain like this is so so hard for me. I used to hurt like this all of the time, and while I’m glad I don’t anymore, I’m out of practice with the coping skills of the more intense pain.
That’s not to say I’m not in pain normally, I am, but my normal is a 2 or a 3. It’s chill. It’s just there, a constant hum in the background of my life. I work around it.
Today is twice that. It’s enough that it makes every step reverberate through my body. I feel every inch of my skin. My muscles are cramped and sore. My bones ache. My joints feel like they can’t support me.
This is a hot shower kinda day. Even though the water hitting my skin would feel like knives, the warmth would help me relax.
This is an all day curled up in bed kinda day. Even though my back would cramp, the comfort of my cloud wrapped around me would help me breathe through this.
This is a sleeping med kind of day. Even though I’d feel groggy and drugged when I woke up, sleeping through this would be welcome relief.
But in reality, today is a busy, appointment kind of day. I won’t be home until late. I’m spending the day sitting in hard chairs that make me ache even more.
And I’m still tired because of last night’s painsomnia, there weren’t enough hours left to take sleeping meds.
Today is an ouchy kind of day.
But this too shall pass.