Wednesday, March 21, 2007

It's 3pm --- Do You Know Where Your Leg Is?

I've started the program at the hospital this week. Already I'm learning/relearning things that may eventually help ... but there is always 3:00pm. One of our running jokes was always that we were at our worst emotionally and intellectually after 3pm, so that reminder is always a little knife. But I leave group and head home and the next thing I know the pain and the tears are overflowing. I can't begin to describe the hopelessness and despair I feel. There is nothing to replace what I've lost. Nothing but bills and furnace problems and shame and humiliation about my financial situation ... responsibilities and duties and months of this awful pain and nothing to look forward to or offer any meaning or hope. I see everything through the lens of this relationship and/or what I've lost -- and I mean everything. Weather. Streets. Houses. Strangers on the street. This physical/psychological/emotional pain is so overwhelming I'd chew off my leg to escape it, and I am getting so angry at people who don't seem to get it. I'm becoming childish in my pain; petulant and demanding and I can't seem to help myself. As if I don't have enough issues causing me pain these days, here comes "No One Takes Me Seriously." Am I painting myself into a corner where I have to kill myself just to prove that I meant it when I said I COULD NOT take this pain anymore? That I refused to be soothed and placated with empty words and platitudes? I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. And hurting. And I can't help but believe (as the paragon of emotional health that I am these days) that I was tricked into surviving this last month as some cruel joke ... that I believed the people who said it would get better and I should have just ended everything in February as I had originally thought instead of being a patsy. Again.

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