No pity party, and forgive me as i don’t proofread.
This time last year i was in Chitwan, Nepal hanging out with Catherine, all the elephants and crocodiles. I ate the best custard too. Today, i am rocking the flannels again as an inpatient at Peter Mac Hospital in Parkville.
No self-loathing, but I can confirm my self-compassion has been shit. In my in my first brain dump i wrote that i will see my current shortfalls with respect and kindness, but its been rough. Tears fall much much more often because i’m so gobsmacked with my current state. i can see I’m not bouncing back and i know i’m not improving. Like, what the fuck. It’s an unfamiliar territory for me, and Its been so surreal to identify as powerless. i dunno what’s happening to me but i know i’m slipping. I just keep trying to telling myself this is all medication induced. it just hurts my soul big time physically and emotionally. I get confused because nothing makes sense and everything aches. Throbs. i always always bounce back. except for now. Im getting slower.
Is it obvious I am emotional? Tears just go. Because i’ve never been here. i know i have to do the things that scare me. I choose to properly share my real truths, because i know strength and growth come through struggle. And i know what you say to myself matters so if I speak my truths, and share my thoughts and pains even though its humiliating there’s a lesson here for me i need to learn. I have to walk this path and experience these moments. I am choosing my purpose. Face my fears and keep on evolving.
My body, well my face and belly protrude with these crazy painful lumps which sit and pull in unnatural ways like i bare triplets who want to do headstands and cartwheels inside me. It feels like someone is yanking at different parts of my intestines. Dips and troughs line my saddle like body. My knees, shins and thighs are red and swollen and overhang the top of my knees and they just fucking throb, non-stop. its not even the physical that gets me upset. I just feel like im mute, and i cant talk. All i feel is this dull throb constant dull ache. i feel like someone is prying my marshmallow face together that i can’t move my face. i know i am unintentionally unforgiving in facial expression. My vision is super blurry. i breathe slow and very shallow. My face. Sunken eyed where they look like teddy bear buttons and i’m just so watery plump at the same time. My skin looks like i’m covered in chicken pox, seeping with chemicals. Sleep is still a huge factor for me. if i get three plus hours sleep i wake up in tears because it feels like someone is pouring hot lava in my joints which wakes me up because i twist up like a contortionist. give me all the ice. an hour or so later then my midsection starts to throb and pull.
My little fucked up feet and legs are still in the graviton and they still aint working and just awkwardly hang in whatever direction they find themselves. i cannot stand on one foot unassisted and I have to manually lift or move my legs my under knee to well, move. i thought my leg saga something i had created in my head fuelled by my excessive emotional anxiety but they are not improving. Only my tattoos are recognisable everything else, all the muscle wastage has me unfamiliar from bellybutton down. I’m quietly in here but i’m just peering out a like a plane window but nothing like white-noise. Im not in control of my jerks and tremors. I still cant focus on tele as the directions of my eyes or the way my jaw sits. Overbite. Underbite. Off centre? Goodness listen to it, what a whinge. This is my space to vomit off. no-one reads this. it’s just your own private venting space no-one gives a shit.
Im grateful that my brain MRI scan came back as normal. Im grateful that after my scans i get to go home on Christmas Eve. Of course, i am grateful for my loving parents. I am grateful for all the messages and well-wishes even when i get overwhelmed, anxious, and don’t respond. I am mostly grateful to not have any visitors while i been here. its feels like everyone is staring down at me centre stage with pity and i hate it. i am so wary to post this episode of my brain-dump. Again, remind myself, no-one reads this. it’s just your own private venting space no-one gives a shit. My chest feels a little lighter now.