Wednesday, 1 February 2012


I don't want to go into detail about last night because it was too awful.

All I'll say is that I had a very distressing period of psychological symptoms and revelations, followed by possibly the worst pain flare up ever. The only reason I didn't call an ambulance was that I couldn't get to the door to let them in. And yes, I do think the psych episode caused the pain.

The pain has continued to be unbearable all day, and the morphine has been next to useless, just like last night. On top of that, I keep being overwhelmed by the feelings of 'wait till your father gets home'. The way I used to feel when I had done something wrong, or felt I had, as a child, and I was waiting for the punishment - or the tantrum.

It could be something as ridiculously minor and not in any way 'wrong' as asking my dad how much cheese to put on the lunch I was having to make him (god forbid he should take care of his own children - we had to care for him). It's a real example; he threw a massive fit, screaming at me for not wanting to make his food, not being willing to help and being utterly and completely stupid. Then he sulked, wouldn't talk to me and refused to eat anything at all; I was devastated.

Or it could be a 'bad' report card: full of A minuses instead of As, again true, and something that happened twice a year, every year. I'd be lying in bed, waiting for my dad to get home, hearing the back door go, the low hub of voices, rising as she told him what I'd done. The heavy tread as he walked across the lounge, the door opening and then the stairs. Creaking in time with my thudding heart. Will it be just yelling, or will there be hitting?

The feeling of knowing you've done something to precipitate this - that it's all your own fault - is one of being jittery and unsettled, constantly on edge, knowing something awful is coming but completely powerless to prevent it. You feel the harsh injustice and unfairness of knowing no sane person would blame you for that, and the terror of not knowing if he'll actually hit you, or if he'll start throwing things, or breaking glass by slamming doors. Or if he'll just bring you to tears with the evil things he says.

That's how I've been feeling for the past three days. It's scary and draining and truly horrible. No wonder I'm in constant agony.

Posted from Blogium for iPhone

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