I don't like Sundays

I used to dislike Sunday evenings because i knew it was work tomorrow, just like everyone else. Now I hate them because everyone else gets to go to work and I have to lie around in pain and on drugs.

I know it's right that I'm in no fit state to work, and I know it would be stupid and counter-productive to try, but I really really wish I was.

I want to wear nice clothes and sit through endless meetings and have pointless arguments over things that don't really matter. All so I can settle down in the evening and think about what I've achieved that day.

I don't want the sum total of my achievements to be 'took out the bin', 'did the washing up', and for managing those things to be a really big deal. I want to go back to when I could take that stuff for granted. Fat fucking chance.

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One of those days where basic levels of morphine knock me completely flat. I've spent the whole day unable to keep my eyes open. Weird dreams, feeling totally stoned.

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Awake. In pain. Pissed off.

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I'm scared to talk to my doctor or the shrink about my pain being rooted in psychology, because I think that'll just make them discount it as being 'all in my head', not real. When it clearly is real. But if they haven't read the literature, they might not get that.

And once something's said, you can't unsay it. This is hard enough without them being even less believing of me.

But if I can't say it out loud, with conviction, I'm afraid all of this work will be for nothing. Because if my brain doesn't see that I've truly rejected the 'distraction' pain and addressed the underlying issues, it'll just keep doing the same thing. Or it'll shift to a different manifestation of the same thing. And I'll be no better off.

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The depression's been really bad today, I suppose following on from yesterday's doctor's appointment.

I had thought I was doing ok, till I got in there and started talking to him, and realised how not-ok I felt. And it's got worse and worse ever since.

It got really bad late last night because my neighbours were being really noisy and that lack of consideration made me feel very ignored and uncared for. I felt the same getting up this morning, things improved when my friends cane round but then have got worse all evening as the noise levels have risen. And my pain levels are rising accordingly.

It's just too hard doing all this on my own. Not the noise stuff, just coping with all this pain, and now the psychological stuff that trying to resolve the pain keeps on raising. It makes me realise that I've spent the majority of my life feeling incredibly lonely and unprotected.

It goes right back to my mum not giving a shit about what happened to me. She always says it was a time when new mums were encouraged not to 'coddle' their babies, so she just left me to cry. My ex-boyfriend always took perverse pleasure in me being upset, and would not only leave me to cry, but actively cause the upset first. I left him 12 years ago, and since then, I've been alone. I've had friends, some of whom have been great, some who've turned out only to be interested in their own needs. But essentially I've been alone. And for the past four years, I haven't even had the option of going out and changing that.

And now I'm here recognising that the pain is rooted in psychological issues and trying to unlock them. BUT IT'S TOO HARD. Every time I delve into the psych problems I just get completely battered. I KNIW THAT'S WHY THE PAIN'S THERE, BUT TRYING TO FIX IT HURTS SO MUCH! I can't do it by myself. I hate the physical pain, but the emotional pain is just as bad. And nothing eases it.

I CAN'T DO THIS ALL BY MYSELF. It hurts too much. Please, please, somebody come and help me. I don't understand why she's never cared enough to help me. What did I do wrong? She'll risk her life for my sister, but she won't even sit here with me. I just want my mum to care - is that too much to ask?

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I really want to go shopping and buy loads of funky cool clothes and shoes.

But it's completely bloody pointless. I can't go out and wear them, and there never seems any point dressing up just to lie in bed.

I'm so bloody fucked off with all this. I want my life back, I want to go back to work. I DON'T WANT THIS.

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Brief respite

God, I'm sure starved of companionship.

Some friends just popped round for an hour with their kids and it was so nice to have some company.

I'm really fond of all of them, but I just haven't felt up to seeing them for months. The pain is quite bad again today, so I'd spent the morning in bed, in the hope that I'd be able to sit up for the duration of their visit. It worked, and I was.

We sat and chatted, played with the chins (including a demo of crazy-Ricochet-and-her-dustpan-and-brush) and it was lovely.

I'm now knackered and back in bed, but it was fun while it lasted.

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