Stream of conscience
So I am writing this while 1) absolutely ravenous and 2) in the hospital. (I am mercifully not hooked up to anything except a portable heart monitor) So forgive if this is choppy, but then, it certainly wouldn't be the most incoherent thing I've ever written on Livejournal.
I'm in the hospital due to chest pains that came with arm pain. They still don't know what's going on, but my heart enzymes were elevated and I have a brand new heart murmur. While I don't pray, I damn sure am talking to some kind of deity that this is just one of those weird lupus one-offs. If it is not, then I have yet another organ to throw onto the pile of shaky things barely standing in my world.
Still, some years later, I am amazed to see just how routine hospital visits are now. In the beginning, they were torture. I felt chained to these damn rooms, and howled every time the shackles were yanked back and I was drug into a hospital bed.
Now it's just...........something I do. A part of my life sometimes. An annoying thing that needs to be done.
Part of the problem is that since I do not journal daily anymore, when I do, I feel the need to recap, when that was never quite the point of my writing to begin with. It was to get things OUT. The fact that I needed to do that daily was almost inconsequential, but now looking back - I see how that was the foundation.
The sun rises, strip by strip of colored sky rising across the highway. The sunrise is my companion in the hospital, a silent but loyal friend, every morning. She's even been there when I've been unconscious in the ICU - a friend who does not require me to see her for her to see me.
And Eyelid, I HAVE missed so much! I need to go back and read, I didn't know - but it gave you the experience to write what you did. It was so profound I sat up in my chair and said HOLY SHIT, THAT'S IT, THAT'S FUCKING IT! I DO feel like if I don't sometimes "remind myself" of how bad of a person I am (or at least feel like) sometimes, that I am lying. That I am coddling myself. That I am not being true to the reality of me.
Like, I can let other people lie to me, but if I lie to myself, that's the worst thing, right? Reading that you have felt that way, too, brought me to tears. I don't even think I'd realized where or why I was doing that to myself until you said it.
But then as you said, I tried to imagine someone else telling me all of those things. Someone sitting me down and having a genuine discussion and then just spilling a litany of insulting things like I wrote. And I got mad at that person. I wanted to kick them out and slam the door behind them (in my head as I was having this metaphorical discussion, of course.) I certainly would not be talking to this person ever again.
So...why should it be any different if it's me saying it to myself? You are so fucking right.
And this morning, while staring out of the window, I rolled over your question about who decides what worthy is. I have never considered that. When you asked if Pamela decided I was worthy, would that truly make me so, I paused. The answer was an immediate Yes, but then I had to think about why. I mean, I know why in as she's everything normal that I have ever aspired to be, and the only mother in my life I have ever chosen.
But why give one woman (who most certainly does not want the burden to begin) with the ability to define what "worth" is for me? Because really what even is worth? I have never thought of it from this perspective. This is mind-blowing and I will be bringing this up in therapy - THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!
Also when you said - "activate the nurturing, protective part of yourself. When you hear yourself start to be abusive, stand up for yourself, as if you were championing someone else - a vulnerable person going through a hard time. Demand that the unfair, abusive part of yourself be fair."
I will ALSO be bringing that to Steve, (my therapist). Somewhere along the line, when I got sick, the idea of nurturing myself fell out the window. Why, I'm not sure, as becoming catastrophically ill seems like it would be the most perfect time to gentle with yourself. But no, for me, it somehow triggered this dire need to be harsh.
Maybe I'm still a little embarrassed about being sick and it spilled over to everything else, which is such a bizarre concept. I do know that when dialysis does finally happen, it will be very very VERY important to me that I can hide the fact that I'm on dialysis. I will be telling Jesse NOT to tell people I'm on dialysis. I don't know why, but somehow I need it to be as private as possible.
Which is interesting, given my usual nature of "scream every little thing into the public void."
This is a concept I need to explore more, but for the moment, I am exhausted.
Eyelid, thank you so much. What you wrote was so helpful and I love you - thank you!
I'm in the hospital due to chest pains that came with arm pain. They still don't know what's going on, but my heart enzymes were elevated and I have a brand new heart murmur. While I don't pray, I damn sure am talking to some kind of deity that this is just one of those weird lupus one-offs. If it is not, then I have yet another organ to throw onto the pile of shaky things barely standing in my world.
Still, some years later, I am amazed to see just how routine hospital visits are now. In the beginning, they were torture. I felt chained to these damn rooms, and howled every time the shackles were yanked back and I was drug into a hospital bed.
Now it's just...........something I do. A part of my life sometimes. An annoying thing that needs to be done.
Part of the problem is that since I do not journal daily anymore, when I do, I feel the need to recap, when that was never quite the point of my writing to begin with. It was to get things OUT. The fact that I needed to do that daily was almost inconsequential, but now looking back - I see how that was the foundation.
The sun rises, strip by strip of colored sky rising across the highway. The sunrise is my companion in the hospital, a silent but loyal friend, every morning. She's even been there when I've been unconscious in the ICU - a friend who does not require me to see her for her to see me.
And Eyelid, I HAVE missed so much! I need to go back and read, I didn't know - but it gave you the experience to write what you did. It was so profound I sat up in my chair and said HOLY SHIT, THAT'S IT, THAT'S FUCKING IT! I DO feel like if I don't sometimes "remind myself" of how bad of a person I am (or at least feel like) sometimes, that I am lying. That I am coddling myself. That I am not being true to the reality of me.
Like, I can let other people lie to me, but if I lie to myself, that's the worst thing, right? Reading that you have felt that way, too, brought me to tears. I don't even think I'd realized where or why I was doing that to myself until you said it.
But then as you said, I tried to imagine someone else telling me all of those things. Someone sitting me down and having a genuine discussion and then just spilling a litany of insulting things like I wrote. And I got mad at that person. I wanted to kick them out and slam the door behind them (in my head as I was having this metaphorical discussion, of course.) I certainly would not be talking to this person ever again.
So...why should it be any different if it's me saying it to myself? You are so fucking right.
And this morning, while staring out of the window, I rolled over your question about who decides what worthy is. I have never considered that. When you asked if Pamela decided I was worthy, would that truly make me so, I paused. The answer was an immediate Yes, but then I had to think about why. I mean, I know why in as she's everything normal that I have ever aspired to be, and the only mother in my life I have ever chosen.
But why give one woman (who most certainly does not want the burden to begin) with the ability to define what "worth" is for me? Because really what even is worth? I have never thought of it from this perspective. This is mind-blowing and I will be bringing this up in therapy - THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!
Also when you said - "activate the nurturing, protective part of yourself. When you hear yourself start to be abusive, stand up for yourself, as if you were championing someone else - a vulnerable person going through a hard time. Demand that the unfair, abusive part of yourself be fair."
I will ALSO be bringing that to Steve, (my therapist). Somewhere along the line, when I got sick, the idea of nurturing myself fell out the window. Why, I'm not sure, as becoming catastrophically ill seems like it would be the most perfect time to gentle with yourself. But no, for me, it somehow triggered this dire need to be harsh.
Maybe I'm still a little embarrassed about being sick and it spilled over to everything else, which is such a bizarre concept. I do know that when dialysis does finally happen, it will be very very VERY important to me that I can hide the fact that I'm on dialysis. I will be telling Jesse NOT to tell people I'm on dialysis. I don't know why, but somehow I need it to be as private as possible.
Which is interesting, given my usual nature of "scream every little thing into the public void."
This is a concept I need to explore more, but for the moment, I am exhausted.
Eyelid, thank you so much. What you wrote was so helpful and I love you - thank you!