we’re only 1.5 months into 2017, and i’ve already had a taste of what this year might be like for me. although nothing actually changes when we left 2016 behind, there is always this inevitable desire of better year ahead. is there actually anything wrong in hoping? i guess not. but it would be prudent to temper these hopes with some realism.
it’s been quite rocky since the start of the new year. when i wasn’t feeling too deeply (emotionally or physically), i was feeling nothing at all. the madness here is that i was never content with either. when i sat in the darkness of melancholy and physical pain, i craved for reprieve from the sadness and pain. and when i swung to the opposite end, feeling absolutely nothing at all, neither sadness nor pain, i lamented that i needed to feel something. i do realise this is me in the entirety in of my world that can only be black or white, and either-or. i also do realise i need to gain a footing on middle ground, of a world that can embrace grey. but again, this is a lesson that i will be learning for the rest of my existence.
as fibromyalgia flares come and go, and as i struggled with the difficulty getting through a day, i wonder how i made it through 2 decades of RA. i wonder what gave me the strength to trudge on then, what made me plainly grit and bear. and then i wonder if i’m really just tired of fighting the pain. although my RA is largely quiescent now, the occasional joint flares do remind me that i might be so lucky to only have to fight against fibro. perhaps i can seek some comfort in that? but however much i’ve settled with the chronicity of pain in my life, i never get used to it. there are all the pain pills, tennis ball, TENS unit, and injections to help me cope. there is also a certain sense of acceptance that comes with unrelenting pain that doesn’t wane. but i will never get used to it. pain always demands to be felt.
also as sadness waxes and wanes, i wonder how i got through the last 6 years. there has never really been a time when i can honestly say that i am “good”. it has always been either a “bad”, or an “okay”. my doctors and i have been trying every damn thing there is to augment the perpetual depression. anti-depressants, mood stabilisers, anti-psychotics, benzodiazepines, therapy, ECTS… i’ve had better days. but more than that i have days when i am entirely filled with sadness that i am driven to either mutilate myself, or fantasize about and/or plan to completely annihilate myself. as i constantly question, i wonder if there will be a day when i can truly say that i am “good”. because at this rate i am going, together with chronic pain, i think it is likely that i will expire in years to come. there is only so much one can take. i might accept that i have to live with RA and fibro for the rest of my life, but i do secretly harbour this hope that one day, i will be free of the chains of these mental afflictions.
i can’t do any of these alone. human effort will not suffice, as i have come to appreciate over the years. i can only surrender everything to God, do my best, and let Him do the rest. even these however, can be difficult to do. i am constantly tried and tested- my faith, pain, mood, triggers, urges, life- and all i can do is to hold on tight, pray, and carry on.
seeing my anaesthestist, psychotherapist and psychiatrist next week. hoping to get some bupivacaine jabs in my back and right knee. expecting quetiapine to be upped to 50mg, and cutting out escitalopram completely because it is doing nothing(i was only supposed to cut 1/4 of it, but i was too lazy to half the pill so i cut down 1/2 instead).