Insomniac’s Lament

I wish I could sleep. I did this to myself. The weird thing is, I totally used to be able to go to sleep even if I had just been sleeping.
I don’t know what is going on. But I hate tinnitus, and I hate the temperature of my room, and blankets which make me feel hot and cold at the same time. And I miss my friends. And I want to be nice to people but they just keep annoying me so it makes me sad and mean. This sucks.
What is wrong with me?

Oh yeah, now I remember, I’ve been in this house since May (more or less), or at least in this city -suburb?-. And I’m miserable and have lost all independence and want to cry. I’m weak too. I don’t do car rides. One a week, though last week was special. Pre-Halloween car ride for makeup.
And I’m miserable and nobody seems to help it any because they’re either miserable already or I make them that way. I hate not being able to sleep. Or be nice. Or not be hurt when people say things that make me want to cry. I can’t handle the truth right now, even disguised in jest. I can’t even handle jest. And I can’t tell you why except for the same reasons I’ve been miserable these past few months. Also, it’s only been 49 days since My surgery. 7 weeks. Exactly. Because it’s Monday Nov. 5.
Cold and Tired and Lonely. How am I so lonely? I live with 6 other people.
Oh.. I know now, because talking is so hard. Communicating is so hard. Because I feel like they’re sick of it. The sickness. The me being sick. They’ve moved on. I haven’t.
Should I? Can I?
Car rides still hurt, and I’m running out of Oxycodone. But my pain is more like discomfort. I’m itchy, I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m sore, my head aches, I’m tired, I’m weak. It’s hard to concentrate, I’m sensitive to sound, to touch.

I’m sensitive to all through me. Body, Mind, and Soul…And wherever the emotions lie – those are sensitive too.

I feel like an injured animal, cornered and being periodically advanced upon by people with sticks. The animal may normally be loving and gentle, But right now it needs the people to not corner it and simply give it a safe place to heal.



About writingcatherine

This started as a documentation of my adventures in Europe...but hey, life's an adventure in itself.
This entry was posted in The Surgery Story - Chiari Malformation. Bookmark the permalink.

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