Archive for the ‘mental illness’ Category

i’ve had them for six months now.  i’m under a rain cloud of morphine and new fashioned nerve tonics.  i tell myself it will be worth it when they find out what is wrong with me.  so far, electric shock nor radiation can give a face to my solid and constant pain disorder.  many nice palliative treatments have also failed.  i can’t even stand a massage most of the time.

imagine that someone was burning your nerve endings at irregular intervals for no apparent reason.  really, imagine it.  they’re talking about actually doing that to me as a treatment now.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhizotomy

i’m sure i’ve missed a few updates here as it has all unfolded and i’ve little strength to repeat it, but i did want to explain that the biggest reason for my lack of activity is that i cannot sit for more than 5 minutes at a time most days and i have an old desktop computer and what feels like a cinder block for a chair.  the smallest reason is that he has launched more and more vile epithets about my work here (that he claims to have never read) lately than i can really tolerate on a good day.  there just aren’t many good days. and.. well.. you know..


phantoms so wild and shaking, so hard

that i think i’m breaking under a weight that’s too big to swallow

so for wallowing’s sake i’ll think of a grave so pitifully shallow.

because my sick is just to much sorrow.  my blank grave mark’s for you’re tomorrow.

it wouldn’t do good to beg any comfort when it’s borrowed.


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new years day for liars and hostages isn’t new or happy.

don’t read me wrong.  i’m not his hostage.  i’m my own.   i am responsible for enduring this.

all day has been such a mess.  stupid, worthless and totally unnecessary lies, anger belching out of him towards our daughter for acting her age (under three) and his best friend (paranoia) have all taken turns.  an 1/32nd inch wick on his t.n.t. would be enough for the fire department to monitor were it literal.  maybe they could send the robots to defuse him or destroy him.  good luck getting me to care which it were tonight.  i’m aghast at foul demeanor on holidays..

i made the traditional beans, greens and cornbread anyway.  i need all the luck, money and gold that i can get my hands on.  do wish my daughter and i good luck for this year should you have a moment.  we will really will need it.

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had to crap out that last post before i could move forward in my life.  it is what it was.  and what it was it isn’t anymore.  i have heavy decision making dark matter in a sack over my shoulder all the time.

that must be why… my new thoracic mri showed 4 black discs, two bulging and deforming my spinal cord.  no nerve damage yet.  my lumbar disc is also “bulging”.  this is fine in your 30’s, the thoracic results are, um… not fine.

new tests are to be performed.  medication maintenance is now handled by a pain specialist.  some of my pain may be nueropathy.

i cannot get over the news from a healer in another city that i am keeping something very hateful low in my chakras and if i don’t let it go, i will only grow the pain syndrome i have now.

i’ve looked so hard for the reason to all of this.  i have searched myself.  i cannot find any undue anger just lying around unused.

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post start date:  nov 4 2010…

anniversary time,  happy happy!!  happy radial and ulna fracture!  happy “bon anniversaire, mon divorce hypothétique!”

“feliz aniversario, mi divorcio hipotética!”

“felice anniversario, il mio ipotetico divorzio!”

“юбилеем, мой гипотетический развод!”

you’re worth a bag of sick,




“sretna godišnjica, moj hipotetski razvod!”

“גליקלעך יאָרטאָג, מיין כייפּאַטעטיקאַל גט!!”

happy google translate.

but, yeah, a year ago he jumped up at me and took me down with all of his force saying, “you think you’re tough?  i can be tough too.”  my poor wrist was broken in his hand as it smashed against a table on the quick way down.  that was the first moment of silence we’d had in over an hour while i looked, in total sobering shock, at my twisted arm that was rapidly swelling and changing color.  we’d been fighting and i had lost all control and was hitting him with all of my primal anger and weak hands.  he’d accused me of cheating again.  it was almost a pastime of his, accusing me of things and finding ways to further isolate me.  this time his insecurity involved a man i worked with.  i lost it.  i kept thinking, “you are not going to take my job away… you are not going to make me feel guilty for supporting my daughter.. you are not going to take the pride i have in my work away from me!!!  i don’t deserve this, i’ve never deserved this.”

(do i really want to go into the next moments?  can i?  i’ve really got to.  these are the really painful memories and the gray areas.)

i managed to weakly bark out, “you broke my fucking wrist.”  “call 911.”


he wasn’t going to call 911.

i certainly wish he hadn’t now.  if i’d had any idea what would happen to me,  i’d have crawled to the ER by my teeth.

no.  no.  no.  he wasn’t going to call and he had thrown my phone and i couldn’t find it.  staying low, i crawled to the front door and opened it and started screaming for help from the neighbors.  he grabbed my bluejeans and pulled me inside again, slamming the door behind us.  at that moment, it occurred to me that he was going to kill me.  horrific pain was setting in and i was too weak to fight him for help so i just pleaded repeatedly and cried, hoping to find the place where he keeps his shame and guilt or simply badger him into doing something.  “they’re going to arrest us both and our daughter is going to go to social services.”  “CALL!!!” i yelled.  what a mistake, one of my worst.

i never thought in a million years that they would arrest me.  i thought they were going to take him and put him where he belonged and that we’d sort through his treatment, child custody and our separation later.  what a relief it would be to come home from the ER and have him gone.  oh justice!  oh righteousness! oh how naive.  i’ve always known he was a liar.  a poor one.  just as poor at it as our police force is at their work.

and it rolls.  downhill all the way he’s got me rigid.

i went to my talk therapy.  there had been quite a delay.  i had forgotten all the broken children he left inside of me between our visits. upon query of him i gave too favorable of a report.  i just found last month’s apology letter and the last three days have cut me to threads of old sinew and short muscular fibre of little use.  of little taste, some butcher’s remains am i.  as i ride on my ticketed rickety train from a departure point of sane to an arrival in good old terror depot.  yarrow, pennyroyal, emmenagogues.. a cramp fed straining of my fragile bowel heart.  my gut receiver.  my pennyroyal, my dear black cohosh, do you work psychically?

can you abort him,

can you keep me while he tries to kill me, can you keep me well?  or  hide me from the manic carousel?

he is going to kill me
i found out the other day it’s so rarely complete, my full sentence, my full thought.

of course you can’t.  stay tuned.  it’s ratcheting up.

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NSFW language.

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plague mass. i mean the density of my plagues, the sum total of my many illnesses (they should really change that to illni ((save the illinoisans uses for it)) ) and not diamonda galás and her valiant campaign for hiv awareness and acceptance.  i’m not saying prayer for my hair loss, for instance..

i’m keeping track of the mass of it.  one fist full, two fists full, five.  in as many days.  my goodness, that’s odd. and now i can’t pin it up like before.  i actually backcombed it like they did in the 1960’s and…. it just agitated the whole process, and me, as i watched my hair fall out of my head for the last week.

i’m also sick in the lungs and sinus. 7 days sick.

i guess i’ve been too absent to mention that i had an mri and the result showed clearly degenerated discs. one entirely dark disc.  so the massive pain has been adjusted with norco to an only slightly debilitating pain.  cannot sit down or lift anything.  can walk five miles.  cannot get into car afterward…

i’ve started physical therapy.  i’m so weak in my right side from limping that i could barely perform some of the tasks asked of me in the orientation.  pushing against another person’s force is not something that i can do with my right limbs.  apparently the weakness goes all the way into my right arm.  hmmm…

after just recently stabilizing my mood and medications i am finding that health problems are putting me back in the hole.  two bad wrists and the back gone.  hair falling out with a scalp covered in hard cysts that interferes entirely with going “sinead” again.  even with some cysts surgically removed, scars still reduce or eliminate the possibility that i will just “rock it” bald ever again.


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again- NSFW- language

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