November 10, 2021
Working out some frustrations... (unsuccessfully, I might add!)
So.... I attended the second session for the pain management group, and wound up feeling frustrated by it. We are supposed to be goal setting, which isn't too bad but the group leaders dissuaded me from setting three goals, which is what I actually need to accomplish this week. They seem to think setting one goal for one or two times a week is enough, which it is when I don't have things to do and this week i have things to do. I also felt frustrated when they used the guidelines for exercise by the Stanford University - an American study when we are in Canada...but... that wasn't my big gripe. The way the instructor explained the study is that we are to be doing resistance training comprised of 10-12 exercises three times a week, then walking or biking or gardening 5 times a week for about 45 minutes a time. Oh, and there was mention of some yoga and stretching in there too. That exercise guideline is on par with my old workout routines when I was fit, thin, and in the gym almost every day. There is no way I could maintain that with the pain levels I have now. So...when they moved onto the guided visualisation portion (which was a body check in that I already know how to do), I skimmed the 3 workbook chapters on working out, and learned that every exercise that was suggested by the book was remedial or rehab level exercises. It was so misleading to hear the Stanford study when the reality of it is much lower than the study. It turns out that the 10-12 exercises are things like sitting in a chair and reaching down or lifting up your legs - quite basic and simple stuff, and not 10-12 sets of 3 reps in the gym doing resistance training! So I apologised for the misunderstanding, and feel better about the exercise guidelines.
That said, I am still feeling grumpy about my chronic conditions in general. Part of me is starting to wonder what would happen if I just woke up one day, cut out the sugar I am eating, and went to the gym and did a full work out. I seem to be okay hauling heavy things around, and any time I have tried weights I don't have any negative repercussions from doing them. I am starting to think I need to do an experiment soon. Part of me wonders if I just may be capable of more than I allow myself to do. but....then the old doubt creeps in and I question if I will ever be able to do anything ever again. I am so tired of letting myself down ALL the time, and I hate it even worse when I let other people down or have to cancel out on them at the last minute. I miss being able to make commitments to other people and to myself and keeping them. Just about every single time I fail to keep my word, and keeping my word means so much to so many people. I know I come across as a flake and a failure these days, and it is so very rare that I shine.
I spoke with my therapist about shining last year, and how I miss doing it and feel like I don't shine for anyone anymore, and rarely feel special. I have heard folks say that middle aged women are forgotten, and I am starting to feel that way. I just spend a lot of time alone drowning in my chronic conditions.
Last week, I told my doctor I will be asking for assisted suicide in five to ten years if things don't start to change for me.
And I mean it.
I can't see living another ten years with this quality of life. I am not living - I just exist slowly moving through the days waiting for time to pass by so I can sleep again, hoping that the time in between won't be painful. I am not needed anywhere, and don't matter anymore. I know some folks would miss me but I wouldn't be a big loss as I am not that involved in much anymore. I am also terrified of getting old and having to try to look after myself meanwhile my conditions get worse and worse. The idea of living in a publicly funded home is nightmarish to me - I know what those hell holes are like where people are left to rot in their filth and most every one forgets them. Who would ever come to see me? I rarely hear from folks now, and I am still around and active. Shut me up in a home and I will rot. So, no thanks, I would rather kill myself than face a future like that. I think my step dad, Derek, had an ideal death. He died when he was around 60 taking his motorbike out for his last ride the night before a buyer was to pick it up from him. He hit a pot hole, couldn't keep the bike upright, wiped out, snapped his neck, and died instantly from it. What a great way to die - a sudden painless death in the middle of doing what he wanted.
I have been struggling with suicidal thoughts a lot the last while. Intellectually I understand that they are a symptom of the C-PTSD but it doesn't make it easier to live with a voice that shouts at me a few times a day to go kill myself, or having a part of my brain that automatically slides into devising methods to kill myself and having to stop myself from thinking that way when it starts - it is bloody exhausting some days which is why some days I simply sleep so much because I am tired of always being on guard and self-aware. And it doesn't help that I am having a hard time seeing any good reasons to stick around much longer. I am not useful anywhere and no one really needs me to do anything. I feel so useless. And every time I try to step up I fail because I can't keep my word thanks to getting sick or not coping or or or...its just a bloody endless string of excuses. I miss so much being a part of something bigger than myself, I miss helping people, I miss being involved...and it is so hard to be involved or to commit to anything if I end up having to cancel stuff because I am too damned sick or in too much damned pain. I miss being reliable both for myself and for other people.
So, yes, I am angry by now. I went from having a decent career - not the top one but a career I was interested in nonetheless - to losing my career thanks to the damned chronic conditions and me having to get accommodations so now I am parked or passed on by for interesting work. No one even cares if I do much of anything! I used to have a slew of acquaintances, social friends, and a small handful of close friends. These days, I have some old friends who are scattered across Canada, the US, and the UK, and a few friends here. I spend far too much time alone, and I think I have aged out of the pagan community I used to feel a part of. The past summer was rough being left out of things. It stings to have someone walk past without a friendly smile, or to have someone else stand with their ass one foot away from my face, and snub my friendly greetings. It stings to offer help and to be turned down over and over again. It stings not to be included. And I don't even know what I did to deserve any of this - did I do anything? I wrote so much of the poor behaviour off as folks not knowing how to act with other people due to Covid but I think that is only a small part of it. There are a couple of tight cliques where I like to hang out and, when there are more folks around, it isn't so noticable. There was hardly anyone there this summer and it was painfully obvious that I don't fit with either clique. The one group is super friendly but the other group is, well, I have to be nice so won't say much. There were friendly folks, don't get me wrong... it just wasn't the same as it was pre-Covid where folks used to be warm and friendly and welcoming. Last summer it was more like you belong to an in group else you spend a lot of time alone. So... I think I am aging out. I have been thinking this for a few years, and last summer really hammered it home. So, I have no idea what I am going to do next summer and, to be honest, I don't have to worry about it right now.
Light bulb moment - I think that is one of the things that triggered the deep depression I fell into by September. I spent a summer trying hard to be friendly to a bunch of folks and was snubbed over and over again, and it hurt and it stung and I wound up feeling old and like I just may not belong to a spot I used to call home. And I think this is partly why I am feeling anger too. And I am still sad that the community lost a couple of more good people, and if I think too much about it tears start to well up for them.
So, I have been trying to think of the things that I love to do that doesn't involve the pagan community. I loved playing guitar and have developed calluses again... I love sewing so took a pattern making course... I love art and am thinking I may take an art course in January. It may also be a good place to make friends. There has to be something that women my age do. And I can't believe I have to try to fill the next 28 years with drivel and try to find things to keep me going. Sighs. Oh, and I also looked up an antiviolence agency with the thought of maybe doing some volunteer work but...it brings me back to my chronic conditions and being reliable. it is one thing if I miss out on a course and another thing all together if I miss out on voluteer work. And with the chronic conditions that is bound to happen. I really miss helping people and being useful. This is another huge part of why I am so depressed - I am useless to people, and almost no one wants me around. Even this summer camping, one person told me to my face that I am too high energy for them, and a second one alluded to us never being friends. It hurts me so much when people feel this way about me, when I try so hard to be freindly to everyone. I don't know whats wrong with me. I know the rhetoric that it says more about them than me but I also know that there is a pretty large element of my own behaviour there too. Ever since I was a little girl people have told me I am too much - too big, too loud, too intense, too much, too much too much... With the high number of times people have said this to me, and the number of folks who pull back from me, there has to be some truth to this, and I must be doing something wrong or off putting. Having people pat me on the back and tell me not to worry about it doesn't help either as I know that I am not going to grow or improve as a person unless I look at my own actions and behaviours. And I have been both so bloody depressed and caught up in the chronic conditions and frustrated with so much that I don't think I would really want to be my own friend either!
Summary: a psychologist diagnosed me as depressed with C-PTSD that activates at times, and she is correct; I am sad because I am isolated both by myself and by other people; I don't feel like I can offer anything anymore which I am sure is bull shit because I know I have good skills just I am unreliable; being unreliable is almost killing me; not having a decent career anymore is also almost killing me.
I have written enough now. Even I think this is a rather drab bleak writing so, if you made it this far, you must be some kind of wonder human! I am heading off.
Lou
Nope - not done - there is more. I am also struggling with my spiritual self - the self that has been there beside me for the past 45-50 years. I don't remember ever feeling so adrift spiritually as what I feel lately. I am angry about this too. I spent years learning and studying a number of different things, celebrating with people, being around other people, reading books, talking with folks, learning from mentors and guides and teachers....only to learn that much of what I have practised is likely cultural appropriation and, thus, inappropriate to practice anymore. I looked up the chakras yesterday to see if they, too, are cultural appropriation and, yep, they are. I have worked with energy centres in other people now for over 20 years, balancing energy fields, smoothing out the ruffles, cleaning out the static, removing the sticky bits, with a focus of healing and coming from a place of deep compassion for the person I was working on. Now, I am even doubting if it is okay to do the energy healing I do anymore. Mind you, I am comforted knowing that Therapeutic Touch was a modality developed by a couple of people but, now, in light of starting to learn that working with chakras can be considered cultural appropriation, I am left wondering what the roots of TT are and need to learn more.
I also love and respect and honour people of all genders. I don't give a damn what is in someone's pants or how they want to express themselves - that is their business, not mine, and it is not for me to judge. That said, I think a part of my spirituality died when I recognized that I could no longer openly practice the biological aspect of my woman based spirituality because it excludes other women. I agree with the reasons why I can no longer practice it with other people and I don't want to hurt anyone - that is the last thing I ever want to do. And...I am sitting here writing out how much I miss following my biological rhythms when I realize just how silly this sounds considering I no longer have those rhythms to work with. Yup - my body has changed that way too. I love the wisdom that comes with age, and maybe that is what I need to start focusing on. There is only so much of "used to be" that even I can take though, and imagine it must drive other folks bananas.
I don't mind aging in so many ways. I just wish I didn't feel so invisible.
I am cut off from the heathen group I used to practice with at times. I can no longer go as I am no longer seeing the one person who runs it. I am cut off from this aspect of my spirituality too, and, even though i didn't go all the time, it was very important to me and it no longer exists for me. I am no longer invited and cannot be a part of something I have been a part of for ten years. I saw photos of them gathering and it hurt to know I cannot be a part, all because I made the mistake of believing someone and loving them. Loving that person destroyed a piece of my spirituality, it destroyed friendships, it destroyed routines and rituals, it destroyed loving other people. This hurt me so deeply that I haven't even been able to cry about it yet now, as I start to write, my face is covered with tears because I miss this part of my life so much and I so very deeply regret believing in someone and loving them. I regret so very much having been emotionally intimate and allowing something to grow with someone else.
And this leads to another piece that is a huge part of why I feel so depressed. I was discarded like a toy when my usefulness was done. My emotions were not considered. What I believed was a relationship was just a cheap thrill and was discarded when it was not useful. It was so painful being told that I was just to be a periodic sex toy when, for six and a half years, I had been assured and reassured over and over again that it was a meaningful relationship, that I was loved and cherished, and that they would be in my life forever, fighting to hold onto the relationship if it came to that. And when it came to that, they let me go with the offer that I may periodically be a sex toy for their periodic amusement. I was never a person to them - I was just used as a toy. And learning that cut me to the bone, and it cut so deep that I stopped crying. And I can't even talk about this with people because there are so many people in common so my grief is silenced and I have not faced it and I have not processed it. I miss this part of my life so much but I also know that I am more than just a sex toy to someone. I stopped playing the role of sex toy the day I got my own apartment when I was 16 years old, and I will not play that role for anyone no matter how much I love them. I am worth more. And this cut me to the bone because I believed everything I was told about how I was important to them and how they would never leave. The signs were there earlier when they refused to talk with me about a mutual friend, with me believing that it was a conversation we should be able to have because they were my partner, and more than just a friend...but the conversation never happened. and so things started to fracture.
The week before Covid, I buried a woman who was like a sister and who had been a part of my life since I was about 14 years old. She was someone I admired, respected, and looked up to, even wanting to be a bit like her at times too as I admired her so much as a kid. I had a casual short term dating relationship end then had the other gal slander me all over the place. I am so thankful for covid that I didn't have to face her right away, and decided to let that go rather than defend myself as she runs down almost all of her exes. That situation had red flags flying in my face right from the second time I saw them yet I chose to ignore then, and paid the price because now I am excluding myself from another community that I used to belong to, simply because this other gal is enmeshed in every aspect of the community so no matter where I go or what i do, she will likely be there. So that is another loss combined with more slagging. Later, I lost someone I considered to be my closest friend and who I had loved like a sister. I learned that she didn't feel the same way and, although she was fond of me, the friendship didn't mean much to her and I was cast aside when I tried to talk with her about some stuff that seemed to be brewing under the surface for awhile. I thought our friendship was strong enough and that we were both self-aware enough to work through it. Nope. I meant very little to her and the friendship I thought would always be there ended. She had been around for almost half my life, and I miss her so very much. I also lost a casual friend when I recognized that I was only a friend of convenience for her, and only worth being around when I was useful to her. And when I tried to talk about it with her, was told I was abusive - yep, abusive because I tried to talk about some mistreatment which really wasn't the worst ever treatment but, still, was something I needed to talk about because I knew it would fester and, again, thought the friendship was strong enough for that. Nope. So another friend gone. Then, after all that, the one relationship I had believed would always be there unexpectedly ended and ended in a painful manner. it wasn't even ended by either of us...it was ended by a third party. Plus, at the same time, I learned more about even more stuff that isn't my story to tell so I am not writing it out here.
My heart has been ripped out of my chest the past year and a half, and it would have been brutal to go through even if covid wasn't going on. But, yup, there has been covid so oodles of social isolation and I am immunocompromised because of the damned chronic conditions and, even now, am terrified to spend much time with folks because i am on immunosuppresants and no one knows if the vaccine even worked on me, and if I get sick I will likely die because my immune system is so broken.
And it is, in part, broken because of the abuse I went through as a child. So I am really angry about that. As if it wasn't bad enough that I had to learn how to be a better person than what I was socialized to be as a little kid, if it wasn't bad enough that I had to spent twenty years in therapy healing from all the abuse and neglect, if it wasn't bad enough that I had to learn how to function around other people....then, when I finally get to a good and healthy place emotionally about my past, then my body started to go when all the stress from the apartments and work hit me - I simply couldn't cope and it all came out physically and I got sicker and sicker and sicker the more the stress built up until it finally all popped and my immune system basically imploded leaving me with autoimmune stuff and mysterious ailments that the doctors can't figure out.
And that leads me to one of the pieces that shoved me into the depression in September. I saw a specialist who wrote me off with fibromyalgia. Yup, that condition that most doctors consider to be imaginary, that very few doctors believe in, and almost no one treats. Yup. I have a label that actually means nothing and there is basically no treatment for it. there is treatment for my PsA as that is an actual medical condition. There is treatment for my psoriasis. Treatment for my IBS-D, the hiatal hernia, asthma, vasomotor rhinitis, and even the borderline diabetes... but not a single thing for the fibromyalgia. I was diagnosed with this earlier by a bad rheumatologist, who told me to go do tai chi and stay off the internet, that there was nothing else that could be done for me. The specialist in September actually examined me thoroughly, and listened when I answered him, yet he still discarded me with the word "fibromyalgia". Even I don't know if I believe in it for myself! I feel bad for folks I know who have that diagnosis and believe their pains but, for myself, I have a hard time believing it because there is so many other things going on, and my symptoms actually fit almost exactly with another condition but...that would require seeing another specialist.
I am fucking sick of specialists.
Let me say that again. i am fucking sick of specialists.
I am fucking sick of being sick.
Maybe I am hitting the bottom and, soon, will climb my way out again and reinvent myself into something else sparkly and wonderful and I will bounce around rarely talking about what goes on inside and somehow in the middle of all that something will click and I will wake up one day realizing that I have been happy for days and will end up wondering why I was so sad in September and October and November too.
It is almost the 3rd anniversary of Ross' death, and I am still grieving him. I am grieving Dee too. Dee I expected to pass on though because she was older...but I didn't expect to lose Ross. I always thought I would be looking after him as we got older. And he is gone. And he didn't even tell me he had been sick. I believed his sister when she told me not to talk with him, that he didn't want me around, then I learned that she had been lying about so many things and, right now, I don't care if I ever see her again I am so angry at her. No wonder Ross seemed so confused when he saw me and came right over hugging me and telling me he loved me. I feel so awful knowing that I believed her and that I stayed away from Ross after Dee died meanwhile every fibre in my being wanted to be with him because I knew he was hurting so much, and he wound up dying alone. I can't undo this one, and there is no healing from it because he isn't here anymore so it is something I have to learn to live with and, in time, learn to accept. Right now though, it is still a raw place and I am not at peace with it.
Maybe there were too many losses in the past 3 years. Maybe it is time for me to say fuck it all and focus on rising up again, stronger and more compassionate than before with a bit of hard earned wisdom. I have to process all this loss and pain because, if I don't, it will make me become bitter as I am so very angry and sad about all the losses and I spend way too much time going over in my head how I could have done it all differently and, in the end, just keep telling myself that I must be a horrible person if so many people don't want me to be around anymore. These were people I loved and cared about who rejected me, and deemed that I was not worthy of their time or their love. Else they just died and are not there anymore. Dee and Ross were my family, and they aren't there anymore. That loss alone has been a hard one to deal with. I am mourning the relationship that was there for 6.5 years, the one I can't even acknowledge properly in public or with a lot of my casual friends, and I am mourning the loss of community that comes as a result of that relationship, knowing that I will not be welcome in certain places next summer. I am mourning the loss of the woman who was like my sister, and am feeling foolish for ever caring as much for her as I did, and wish that I knew how not to love people but I don't and so I love even though it rips me apart when people no longer want that love. And I dig inside trying to figure out what is wrong with me to make people not want to be around me, and why I was rejected. And I am left floundering in a pool of sorrow.
Holy fuck - no wonder I have been SO depressed since September. And this is on top of covid, and social isolation. I even had surgery during covid too! Yup, I had bits cut out and was patched up again and sent on my way. I can finally sneeze without peeing - yay for good surgery! And, yes, that is a happy yay :) The one positive thing in this entire 2.5 hours worth of emotional purging. I am starting to feel clearer about what I need to do. I need to grieve and to acknowledge and learn to work with the losses. I lost the folks I considered immediate family (I still have family folks - just Ross and Dee were my immediate family folks). I lost my best friend. I lost the partner I believed would always be there, and I lost his family too because I can't bring myself to ever go back there again, which means I also lost his wife as a heart friend and, instead, she is now just another person I used to know once upon a time. I lost an important part of my spiritual community with the ending of that relationship. I lost another part of my spiritual community with increased social awareness, and because I do not wish to offend people and, when I learn better, I try to do better. I am aging out of the spiritual community I thought I would always be a part of, and I haven't made plans for where to go or what to do next. I have gained multiple diagnoses in the past 3 years, and a little bit of treatment so, finally, the pain doesn't cut me to the bone most days but, instead, I am simply exhausted all the time as the medication wipes me out. Pain or exhaustion - take my pick! I lost my health. I am parked at work, and don't have the energy right now to reinvent myself into something new and to sell myself to a new employer - I simply don't have it in me to do it again. I worked so h ard and sacraficed so much for my job, believing in myself even when so many people said I couldn't do it but i did it anyways. I miss that part of myself - that drive and the burning belief that there was more to life than what I had been given, that spark that always pushed me forwards. With all the losses the past couple of years, it is hard for me to believe in anything anymore. Maybe now I have named all the sorrows I can start to stop being so angry all the time. I know that I HAVE to process these losses and the pain associated with them else I will become bitter, and I have worked so hard in my life not to be bitter. I have to let go and move on again. I have to reinvent myself, and learn to believe in me again. I am not sure what exactly I am going to do next but I do know, by naming everything here tonight, that I have started on my way to processing all the pain and hurt. I cannot let this destroy me.
I am done now.
Lou
