TW- an angry rant from me, 19. Sorry about that. Stay safe.
So in a moment of madness, I decided it was time to push my stupid body. The one that disobeys me, hurts every fucking day, causes all of us endless anxiety and loathing on occasions. I ran up three stairs cause my heart had been behaving and BOOM-
It felt like I was going to faint. I just got to the bed in time. Black spots and white stars flashed in front of my eyes and my heart screamed bloody murder at me.
What the fuck was I thinking? I already pushed it too hard yesterday- I demonstrated (craply cause I can barely stand by the evening) roughly for two new kids, and it almost broke us. It fucking hurt. Fifteen took over and got us into the car (Dad picked us up) and we spent the rest of the evening trying not to think of how much it fucking hurt.
Now I run up the stairs… and Mum catches the tail end of my stupid experiment and thinks I am RUNNING AWAY from her to HIDE something.
Yeah. I’m hiding the fact that the dog was upstairs cause I can’t fucking stand being so godsdamn lonely in the house all the time.
That’s all, Ma, I’m not hiding blades or a knife. I’m hiding my feelings here right now cause no matter how hard I try to explain the fact that hoping for a fucking end to my pain is like a death sentence for our emotions, you don’t seem to get it. Perhaps you’re exhausted with caring for our nana, and you wish something would go your way. Perhaps you want something to change and for our pain to vanish, and for something to finally start being right about 2016. For you, it’s been a bust, we know… but…
Hope has been a dangerous thing to us. We hoped for a more understanding answer on that appointment with the consultant than, “Well it might be IBS. Here, take two medicines that may or may not help, stop taking tramadol and you’ll probably be totally fine.”
Sorry, but no. One does nothing, the other froze our digestive system like it does when we get migraines. Eating better has helped a lot with some of our discomfort, but the fucking pain is the same. Like knives in our stomach. Like something small and with too many teeth is clawing to get out through an ovary, the right one. I think we ovulated the other day and Jesus, that was rough. Agony through one ovary (the left) and searing pain along our left hipbone.
So no, I’m not hiding anything. No, I’m not cutting- god knows my body is in enough pain without adding to it. Yes, I can run- adrenaline makes a fine taskmaster, though a dumb one. I pay for my mistakes in pain, and that’s why I walk with steps like I’m terrified to wake the sleeping monster. It’s because that fear is real.
Days like this, I cling to the future because living in the present, with no hope and a lot of pain, is torture.
I want to run, I want to lift weights, I want to tickle my friend’s kids without the searing pain from bending over. I want to wrestle with the dog without the worry she will jump up and -splat- her paw will hit the ovary that’s still screaming. I want to actually feel normal when I go up the stairs as opposed to getting half way and struggling for breath.
I hate being this ill and I hate having no options for relief. I want someone to come along and take the pain away, but currently, for the pain to go, we have to get 26 to use her iron will to force it away.
Problem is, it just comes back to haunt us later.