medium – Page 6 – The only certainty is bad grammar

An emotional wreck.

Published: June 25, 2013 / Updated: June 26, 2013 Crystal Life is hard sometimes, medium, True thoughts on pain

I know in my heart how much of an emotional wreck I am right now.

I’m pretty sure it’s not normal to think about suicide every single day.

I saw this picture the other day, or a couple weeks ago, or something on an article on Buzzfeed about a self-harm blog, and it was a picture of a wrist with a cross on it, and on the horizontal line it said hospital and on the vertical line it said morgue. And I think about that picutre way more than I should.

It’s just that. It’s just that it all hurts so much.

And the only time it doesn’t hurt is when I’m on so many drugs that I can’t think straight or see straight or have a normal conversation. The only time I get any relief from the pain that feels like a cindar block on my right ribs and a butcher knife stabbing me in the side is when I take so many drugs that I stumble around my apartment. And I hate it.

I hate it so much.

I cry because I’m in pain. I cry because I’m on drugs. I cry because I’m on drugs and they aren’t working and I’m still in pain.

And I hate all of it.

And I just want all of it to end so bad.

And I feel like I’m screaming with everything I have left in my heart for help, but nobody can hear me. Or nobody wants to hear me.

I feel like my fingers are on the edge of a giant cliff in the middle of a forest and the dirt beneath them is slipping and I can’t figure out how to hold on.

How do you possibly explain to someone that you’re just about out of strength? That your faith is pretty much dried up? And that everything you thought you believed you don’t believe anymore?

I feel like the doctors are mad at me when the stupid crap they keep trying to do isn’t working. And I feel like they think I’m over exaggerating how much pain I’m in.

I feel like I need an insane amount of emotional support right now, but I have no idea where to find it. It’s like I’m looking at my body from a distance, and I can stand outside of the situation and see how much help I need, but I can’t seem to figure out where to get it.

Because how do you just bring up in conversation that you’re in so much pain everyday all day that you want to kill yourself?

When people ask you how you’re doing, you can’t just shout, “HORRIBLE! PLEASE HELP ME! I NEED HELP!!”

This pain is wearing me down. It’s getting to me. And I can see it happening. And I don’t know what to do about it.

I don’t understand it. I don’t know where God is in this.

All I know is that I hate it. I hate all of it.

I’m totally high right now

Published: June 11, 2013 / Updated: June 11, 2013 Crystal Life is hard sometimes, medium, Wow

I’m totally high right now. On pain pills. Jeeze, I’ve never even tried marijuana folks. Give me some credit, I am a youth leader at a church guys.

The thing about being high (on pain pills) is that after being on the drugs for like two or three months I started to think I was getting used to them, and by extension hiding their crazy side effects really well.

I mean ya, when I first started taking the things, I was felt really, really stoned. Like all the time. And I never tried to mask that fact.

I didn’t want anything crazy to happen and then to have someone come up to me like a week later all, “Wait, a second, you were HIGH when that happened? Dangit, I thought you really liked my chocolate and spinach cake recipe!”

Or worse, for someone to just assume I had transformed into the kind of person who has a dopey smile on their face most of the time, random outbursts of tears some of the time, and trouble thinking of the word she wants to use all the of the time.

So, I would go around telling everyone that yes, I was feeling a bit better these days, but it was only because I was taking insane amounts of pills.

Looking back on it now, I was probably so forthcoming because I was high.

Anyway, so ya, I’m pretty high right now. Well, not like, as high as I used to be, but 21 perscription pills a day is a lot for anyone’s system to handle, so even though I’m a little more used to the high levels of drugs, I’m still not really myself. Or at least that’s what people tell me.

And by people, I mean my friend Lynn who came to visit me today. After being amazing and cooking me food and cleaning my house, she told me I looked stoned.

If I wasn’t high when she said it, I would have totally been offended by the comment.

I called my mom to ask if I looked stoned on all the drugs, and she said something about dark circles under my eyes. However, I think that has more to do with the fact when the pain pills wear off it feels like a butcher knife is lodged between my sixth and seventh ribs, and sometimes that happens in the middle of the night and so my sleep pattern pretty much sucks.

I asked my boyfriend about it, but being smart and all, he denied the whole thing and then quickly changed the subject to how much he missed me today because we hadn’t seen each other in a whole 24 hours. Well played my friend. Well played.

Anyway, it appears I’m pretty much chained to these stupid pills for at least a little while longer because nobody really knows why I hurt like hell, or how to fix it, but the pills at least kind of mask it. And I have to say, I’m really, really hate it.

I ran out a couple weeks ago and there was some drama about getting the refill a little earlier than I was scheduled to, so I had to go through a cold-turkey withdrawal AND endure the pain of a stab wound all day while I waited for it to all get sorted out.

Let’s just say I didn’t think I was going to die — I wanted to die.

To be safe, I looked up what exactly pain pill addiction means, and the internet says it’s defined as taking more than the prescribed dose to get high. I never take more than two at a time of the opiate I’m on, and I never take them for anything other than to relieve pain.

So the good news is, I’m not an illegal addict or anything. The bad news is, my body doesn’t appear to know the difference, and if this pain goes away before I do die, and I have to go off all these crazy drugs, I’m pretty sure it’s going to suck. A lot.

Whatever dude. Anyone got some munchies to snack on?

God and pain and stuff.

Published: June 8, 2013 / Updated: June 10, 2013 Crystal god, Life is hard sometimes, medium

I’m pretty sure that eventually one of three things will happen:

1. I will be cured and life will go back to “normal” and everyone will be happy and rainbows will appear magically and then puppies will fall from the sky and as we all walk past chocolate rivers.

2. I will wake up one day and really grasp that this stabbing pain in my right ribs is part of my life now. That it is has become a part of my soul and has been stitched into my story and that I need to learn to live with it, and I will change accordingly.

3. I will kill myself and finally be pain free for an entire day.

More and more it’s looking like number two is going to going to win out here. Although I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I still consider three more often than you’d probably feel comfortable hearing me confess.

As for number one. Well. I guess it could happen. The same way winning the lottery could happen. Or me marrying Prince Harry could happen. But it’s not looking so great.

Ya, ya, ya, God and stuff. He can do anything. I have to tell you though, he hasn’t exactly be waving the magical miracle wand for me lately these days.

I mean sure, if you’re on the outside looking in, all healthy and whatnot, and you might be all like, “Well at least you finally have some pills that help you get through the day.” Or, “At least you have a great job that’s been super flexible and willing to work with you through all this.” Or even, “Thank God you have health insurance.”

And don’t worry, I am glad that I have those things. But I’d also love it if I could, you know, walk through a Walmart without it killing the rest of my day because I’m in too much pain to do anything else. Or, you know, if I was say, “blessed” enough to be able to go into the office everyday. Heck, wouldn’t it be cool if I could just get out of bed in the morning feeling refreshed, instead of having to reach over and grab six pills and then lie there and wait an hour before I felt decent enough to get in the shower? That’d be pretty sweet.

So ya, I’m not in the greatest thankful place right now.

I’m not even in the greatest God place right now.

I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why this is happening to me, and my faith is being tested.

I can see it sort of starting to disappear like Michael J. Fox’s family in those old photos from Back to the Future I. Parts of it are still clear, but there are other areas that are really hazy.

I’ve been praying to Him so much, but all I seem to get is dead silence on the other side.

Just. Nothingness.

I’ll be laying there in bed at 3 a.m., in agonizing pain, wishing I were dead. And I cry out to Him with everything I have inside of me. I cry out to Him to give me peace. I cry out to Him to send me help. I cry out to Him just to see if I’m all alone.

And. Nothing.

Nothing happens. The pain just gets worse. Peace never fills my heart. And all I hear is silence.

I pray for procedures to work. And they don’t. I pray for people to have some sort of understanding of what I’m going through. And they don’t. I pray for the doctors to have some wisdom. And they don’t.

I pray and I pray and I pray.

And I cannot see God in this.

What really makes me upset these days is when something, anything good happens and people are like, “Oh, that was God!”

Really? Then, where is God in this? Where is the “Oh, that was God!” in my pain? Why hasn’t He fixed me? Why am I having to endure this horrible stabbing pain? And really, why does any human being have to endure long-term pain?

I am starting to see that the number two scenario I mentioned above is the most likely outcome for me. That this is going to be my life for at least a little while. But I have no idea how to reconcile God with that situation.

Maybe He will use this for good. Maybe I need to go through this to understand something else later. Or maybe something amazing will come from this.

I cannot see any of that right now though. And from this angle, it all looks really dark.

I thought my faith was strong, but it is so much weaker than I even knew.

“I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.”
— Job 3:26