I dreamed about my aunt the other night, the one married to my abuser, or should I say one of them as my mother played a lovely role of her own even if it wasn’t sexual.
I dreamed that my aunt told me that I came over to their house all of the time when I was little. even though I know he abused me, and there’s a picture of a room in my head, I have no memory of going to their house. She then told me that their marriage had always been a sham, that they were never really a happy couple. I think I picked up on their relationship when I was little. It doesn’t mean anything but I dreamed it and I remember being happy that she validated that I was at their house. Of course this validation is meaningless as it was a dream.
second, I bought a dress for my doll. A while back I wrote that i had found a vintage baby doll on Ebay that looked like one I would have had as a child. I was looking for a very specific doll and because this one came with no clothes, it was easy to see that I had found the one I wanted. She favored me of course which was necessary. For the longest time I let her stay naked, I felt like she deserved nothing including the respect of clothing. The other week I finally realized that I wanted her to be dressed, she deserved it and so I went back on eBay and found a little dress for her. I don’t hate he anymore which is good. She’s now just a toy and she’s with the other toys and crayons and books that are for my younger parts. I didn’t realize how much the doll not having clothing bothered my husband so he was especially happy that I dressed her. He knew that she pictured me and that I wanted many times to rip her head off so he’s better now.
My physical pain level continues to increase. It’s amazing because there are things you simply can’t fake no matter how mental you are, like swelling lymph nodes that occur every single day and cause pain, blood tests that imply muscle damage, ice-cold hands in warm waether, and multiple recurring infections etc. No one will listen. I have an appointment at a rheumatologist this month and we’ll see if anyone listens. I expect nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet I can keep a little hope for an answer. I hate that about me, it just sets me up to be more upset when they find nothing.
I don’t like taking any meds except those which are needed for my survival like psych meds so I don’t kill myself or make my husband’s life miserable. But today I dug out old meds until I found Vicodin. I hate those kinds of drugs but I found some and by God I took one. I will keep taking them so I can live with this pain.
I don’t talk about my physical pain very much to people. It’s none of their business and people tend to look at things through their own experiences. They can always find a reason why their pain is worse. I try not to be like that because it’s rude and selfish. So, I’m going to describe it a bit here because I can be selfish here sometimes. No one has to read it, God knows it only matters to me and to my poor husband who is forced to live with me. I honestly don’t know how he does it. He’s a good, good man.
Hmmm…the pain, what’s it like?
I’ve been diagnosed with fibromyalgia since I was 14 so that’s been 20 years. Congrats to me. The pain has never stopped for one second, of one day of that time. Sometimes, things become so much a part of your life that they become background noise. For a while, this was background noise with flare-ups from time to time. It’s like a gas burner that’s always on and sometimes the flame gets turned up a bit higher and then much higher. I burn. I burn everyday from the soles of my feet to my scalp and it never, ever stops for one second. The flame either goes down a little or it goes up. When it’s very bad like now, it hurts to breathe. It always hurts when someone touches my skin it just depends on the day as to how bad it is. Sometimes I can walk well, and sometimes it feels like I might collapse from the pain. It feels like someone is literally slicing the skin of my body , and I’m so used to pain that I can still write this while feeling it. It burns so much. I have found my box of drugs and I will take whatever I can to get through this. I will see another useless doctor this month who will look at the ultrasounds of my face and neck and blood tests and scratch his head and say that although things look weird or are off here and there, they can’t figure anything out.
If that happens again, maybe I’ll just decide to die. There’s only so much a body and mind can go through before it gives up. Could things be worse? Yes. Am I the sickest person in my city or even my neighborhood? I’m sure not. I’m just weak and I’m tired of no one listening. I’m tired of being dismissed. I’m tired of some doctors wanting to belive this is in my mind. You can’t make your glands swell up out of your face or neck, you can’t fake blood tests, even small ones. No one cares because they don’t have to feel it. Good for them.
I have a lot of undirected anger these days. I say undirected because I’m not taking it out on anyone. I just wish I could be alone, but I try to be ok with my husband because he deserves it. I want answers, I want the pain to stop. I want to have maybe 3 or 4 things to handle instead of 6 or 7. I hate the human race (except you all of course). I hate myself because I’m useless and I do nothing but experience pain and bring that into my home.
My therapist is leaving tomorrow for at least six weeks and I will be alone in a way that I haven’t been since 2001. I am a selfish creature for reacting so badly to this. That just makes me more wonderful. Aren’t I a gem?
Well, I took a Vicodin and now, I can force myself to not scream out loud. I guess that’s called ‘taking the edge off”. I found some old Percocet, I wonder if that will help later. The cool things is, that meds like these work maybe for one dose and then they stop. That’s why I dig them out in emergencies like this because I’ve got one dose that can take the fire down a bit and then it won’t work anymore. Haha, joke of the universe at least for today.