A Few Days in Hell

Actually it's been more like this entire week has been horrible in one way or another.  I tried to not give myself false hope...I tried to be my usual, realistic self.  I knew that there was a very minute chance (like .00001%) that maybe, just maybe, getting the rest of my thyroid out would make my fibromyalgia go away...or even just make it slightly less severe.  I never took the time to think that the 2nd surgery would make the fibro worse...what was I thinking?  Or was I thinking?

Today is one of those days when the pain is not at its worst, but it is still there, as it has been every other day since my surgery.  However, my emotions are at a major low and I feel like I'm falling down what I like to refer to as the "rabbit hole."  I chose this phrase many years ago to describe my depression...it is as it sounds, a trip down the rabbit hole, much like Alice's in the classic story.  Except it seems there is no bottom to the hole I fall down, a trip I make every time I get depressed, and I feel like I'm just falling, falling, falling. 

I told myself that I would get more done this week, with Princess, Bubby, and Dizzie at camp.  I said I would finally get the carpets shampooed, clean out and wipe down all the kitchen cabinets, get all the dust-bunny covered articles cleaned off, get some weeds pulled, clean out the van.  I figured it was more than possible...I had 5 days after all.  Yeah, I got some stuff done, but none of those things. 

I did manage to get the carpets vacuumed, three times even, before I had to sit down to rest and never regain the ability to get the shampooer out and running.  I did start to wipe down the kitchen, but only made it through wiping down the doors, the inside of one cabinet, and the top of the fridge before my back hurt so bad that I couldn't do anymore.  Nothing got dusted, only a few weeds got pulled, and Hubby is probably cursing under his breathe that I'll "never get the van done." 

More so than before, I have been utterly and completely exhausted.  I have taken 5 naps out of the last 7 days and they can last from 2-4 hours, with me waking just as exhausted as before. My body aches and my muscles scream, I have a very sharp, nerve-like pain in my middle back.  My meds are not helping and I will not dare ask for anything "stronger."  (I know too many people  who are sadly addicted to potentially deadly doses of prescription pain killers and would rather be in pain than junked out.)

I want to cry, scream, throw stuff, break stuff, and just throw myself on the floor and have out a 2-year-old-style temper tantrum!  I want to grab Hubby by the shoulders and violently shake him, screaming, "don't you get it....I HURT! I hurt so bad that I want to crawl under a rock and die!  I want my life back...OUR life back!  I WANT to go to the store and not be exhausted!  I WANT to go to church and not be too tired to make it through Sunday School AND service!  I WANT to mow the yard!  I WANT to be able to stay longer at get-togethers!  I WANT TO BE ME AGAIN!"

Don't get me wrong, I love Hubby with all my heart and soul, but it is very frustrating to have a husband who does not like to communicate or talk about what's "bothering" him.  He likes to keep it in and hope it goes away.  I try to honor that by not pushing, but dammit...sometimes I wish he understood better.  I get tired of saying "I hurt" and feel like a cry baby.  I was raised with my step-dad daily barking at me that, "crying is a sign of weakness...don't ever let anyone see you cry...suck it up!"  So I hold the tears in, grit my teeth, and try to keep it together.

After a while, though, even the strongest person breaks.  Today is my day to semi-break...this is not even as worse as it gets.  But, since it's been some time since I've been in this place, it seems worse than it probably is.  I am frustrated...I am angry...I am hurt...I feel weak...I feel worthless...I feel inadequate...I feel alone!  I KNOW that I am not any of these last 3, but it is hard to tell myself that.  I know that God has a plan in all this and part of me considers all my health issues as a form of karmic punishment for my past.  I have made more mistakes than any other person I know...this must be my own personal hell, in which I am to suffer for all of eternity. 

Waking up each day is like Russian roulette.  I don't know if I'll hurt, just be stiff and shake it off after an hour or so, or if it will all start out as a seemingly wonderful and perfect pain-free day, only to hit me later.  So many people tell me I am such a strong person and have such amazing faith in God to not be a hateful and bitter person in spite of this.  I see it as I have no other choice than to do what I can, when I can.  I just wish people who don't have fibro could live just one single day in my shoes...even though I wouldn't wish this hell on my worst enemy.  Then, they would understand. 

They wouldn't look at me like I do nothing but sit on the computer all day.  They would realize that this is the only way I can get back the social interaction I had when I could work.  They would know it keeps my mind busy so I'm not thinking about the pain. They would know that I would do anything to be able to go back to work and have the money to buy the bare essentials again.  They would know the hell I go through inside my head each day.  They would know that they wouldn't want to be me on their best day.  They would just know...they would know I just want my damn life back!