Comments | ubiquitousmixie: i used to be love drunk but now i'm hungover

ubiquitousmixie

i used to be love drunk but now i'm hungover

Sep 03, 2009 21:36

I was going to write an entry yesterday, but one thing lead to another and I ended up sleeping instead. I've been sleeping a lot - the Darvocet's been really good for that. It hasn’t helped much with the pain, but it's made me loopy enough to fall asleep before I can register that it still hurts. I ended up having to call the doctor yesterday ( Read more... )

surgery, recovery

Comments 2

burningeden September 4 2009, 02:29:39 UTC

The timing of this was absolute CRAP and I hate it on about 489304209 levels for you. It's just not right. You have so much hitting you at once and it's not fair because you're easily one of the most amazing people I know.

All I can do is try to distract you a little:

You can go here and watch people with totally screwed up lives get chewed out for it.

There are free new release movies here.

You can watch some television shows here.

I know it isn't much but maybe some of that stuff will distract you and take your mind off the pain for a while.

((HUGS))

cranky__crocus September 4 2009, 02:49:22 UTC

Hugs as well! I feel as though I SHOULD have something to say because I had all those feelings after my operations (multiple--so I guess I never learned to cope), but I don't. There was nothing I really learned to do. I had wanted to read but was too drugged out for that and it didn't work, I'd just fall into a painful sleep. I think I ended up getting a sketchbook and 'journaling'--which I didn't show anything, because it was dark. I just let myself scribble and scrawl out all my negative feelings, so I ended up with pictures of contorted bodies and words of being alone and ALL that lovely stuff, but at the end of my use I could thankfully close it and not look. I felt like I'd trapped SOME of the negative energy in it, and at least I felt a little better to have been doing something (even if I was enough pain that I was just putting a pencil to paper and letting my arm move as it wanted in scribbles, like little kid scribbles). It felt good to vent artistically, however dark I wanted, and know that I didn't have to share it if I ( ... )