I’ve been in a terrible headspace for the past couple of days. Not the general “everything is awful” shit that is our current reality (thanks white people) but that questioning my desire to exist type shit.
It’s bad. It’s REALLY bad.
Yesterday I started crying and I’ve been on the verge of completely shutting down since. And, as much as Facebook is trash, that Memories feature is pretty great in that you can look back and see what you were thinking this time however many years ago.
Two years ago, I was experiencing some of the worst pain of my life. This is coming from somebody who’s been hit by a car and had multiple surgeries.
If you haven’t had sciatica, count your blessings because that shit broke me within 24 hours.
There wasn’t any way to position my body that wasn’t excruciating. It hurt so fucking much ALL the time. You can’t sit. You can’t stand. You can’t lie down. I don’t have words for how awful it is. And there’s ZERO relief. Painkillers just made me high but still in pain.
This was year 1 of Covid in a hostile work environment. I had a supervisor who was kind but I still felt like I had to work through that fuckshit. I could barely sleep so my work hours were sporadic as fuck and it all depended on whether I could find a less painful way to sit.
I still have issues with leg numbness but if I even think that it’s about to flare up, I start trying to bring my stress levels down. Stretching, heating pads, ice, walking, and taking some downtime. It all helps.
Despite that, my anxiety is through the roof. I’ve been having issues sleeping. My mood is garbage. I am sad. I’ve been crying. I feel overwhelmed by the fuckery of it all and yet, everything is fine. I mean, as fine as it can be in this shitfest.
But it goes back further. Twelve years ago, I almost died from a pulmonary embolism. I was hospitalized for 6 days and in the ICU for 3. I was in a lot of denial about that experience but I have noticed that since then, I start getting anxious in June.
I’m generally not into metaphysical stuff but I do know that physical and emotional trauma stays with us. I was in St. Thomas at the time and I couldn’t give myself the emotional space to process what was happening because I was caring for my intellectually disabled sister.