What do you do when you can’t talk. When you can’t open up. The proverbial catch 22 well and truly catches you.
The hardest things to deal with are the hardest to be honest about. Welcome to Tuesday; or as I know it, Monday in disguise.
The who whats and whens are irrelevant, it’s the knock on that bothers me. Another aspect of my illness that is unpredictable, volatile & grim. I say aspect, it’s a chemically induced aspect. One of the many delightful side effects of my daily cocktail.
The difference this time is that external factors worsen this, substantially so. There was a big external factor today, out of my control & emotional. I don’t have complete control of my feelings, my emotions or my reactions. I cry when I am overwhelmed, I bite when I don’t mean to and my cognitive function isn’t always as sharp as it was.
How do you explain that to someone when it’s imperative information? People don’t understand.
So I find myself in a hole. Not a magical rabbit hole that will take me away to a far off land. No such luck.
The hole was built in part by myself, but was helped along by a vindictive troll and his destructive digger that destroyed my mistake and created a crater. Ta for that, teamwork and all.
So now I simply seek solitude. I hurt physically and mentally. Having endured untold stress in recent weeks, this wasn’t the climax I anticipated. I at least thought that I was gearing up for a Lotto win or something, maybe some Hobnobs. This is the time when I retreat in to myself and give up all my spoons.
Mum is being good so far. She made me lunch and just let me cry & hopefully got everything on my shopping list. My friends will be good too, when I let them in. Not a good time for Mr to be on holiday, but least that’s something to look forward to.
I might be able to use this trauma as leverage to be allowed a black cat; I did put it on the list.