loser…

me. blaine.

 

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Time machine please…

I think I did something stupid.

I shared my real name with someone.

No reciprocation, not even acknowledgement.

I feel unsafe now. I wish I didn’t. I do trust this person, it’s just… I don’t feel safe. It’s only the second time I’ve done this, and it meant a lot to me. I don’t know how to handle this. Do I ask the person why? Do I let it go? If I let it go, will the unsafe feelings stop in time? If I ask why it’s been ignored, will I create bad feelings with this person? I don’t know.

I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

Remembering LeKZ

For those who haven’t read the backlog, our best friend LeKZ died a few weeks ago, after a long and distressing illness.

For all the antagonism between some of us and them, those of us who knew them and loved them find ourselves missing them more each day. Too many times does one of us think “must tell LeKZ about that”, and then get that sinking feeling when we realise we won’t be having that conversation, ever. It’s not getting easier, but harder. We’re finding ourselves having conversations with them in our head, and we knew them so well that we can easily respond as they would. It almost feels like they’re on the verge of being introjected, but we won’t let that happen. That would be too much, too painful, too wrong for us.

But it’s so hard to let go. Even harder when you know that we’re the executor of the will, and have a room full of their belongings in our house. Constant reminders. It’s heartbreaking to go through her things, stuff that meant something to her, and have to decide what to keep and what to give to charity. The sad remnants of someone’s life, sat in boxes and bags, all there is to show that they were here. Apart from memories, of course. Lots of memories.

The only person/s who knew them, as they were, all of them as individuals, was us. Their names, their personalities, their quirks, loves and hates, habits, voices, nobody knew except us. So it’s down to us to remember them all. We didn’t just lose a friend, we lost so many friends. It kind of feels like a natural disaster wiped out a couple of hundred, and we knew them all.

“There’s just some things that time cannot erase” – Evanescence

Dunno where this is going, but…

This might make sense, there’s even a remote chance there’ll be pearls of wisdom in here, but don’t hold your breath. It’s more likely to be stream-of-consciousness crap.

It’s been a while so I doubt there’s anyone left to read this, but that’s ok. We haven’t been here to comment or support anyone, so that’s fair.

Our friend has been in hospital since January. In and out, bouncing between the medical hospital and the psych hospital. They’ve had a total breakdown. They spent a week on a respirator in ICU coz they won’t take their meds coz they think they’re poison. They’re refusing to let us visit, or even talk on the phone. They’re refusing to talk to their mum, and she’s 88 and lives in the US and is worried sick. It hurts to be rejected like this. Some of us have relationships with some of them, but now we don’t know if that’s true anymore. Left hanging. It hurts bad. Saddest of all is the cold, dead spot that’s growing where the love used to be. We can only take so much, and they’ve been pretty terrible to us for years. We feel like we’re losing them, already lost them, and we’re losing the will to care. That should break our heart, but somehow it’s just a hollow ache of no-more.

Life is hell sometimes.

Our shrink changed our psych meds. We’ve come off Zyprexa and changed to Seroquel. The plus side is we’ve lost 21lbs. The downside is that it doesn’t seem to keep us emotionally level like the Z did. We’re having highs and lows again, and we’re struggling to cope. Badly.  But after 4 years of being level, the lows are horrific. We’re a turtle in a shell, able to peek out at the world, but incapable of interacting with it. It’s too much. It feels like crushing pressure, and we hate that. We like interacting with our friends. We miss you, all of you.

Especially Jaime, a faint voice whispers. Soft, broken sobbing is heard, then fades away.

We start psychotherapy soon, and that terrifies us. Telling a stranger how we feel, what we think… Who We Are. That we’re here, we’re real, we exist. No no no, that’s all wrong, oh no. Back in the shell, denial denial.

We’re in constant pain now. We don’t see the colo-rectal surgeon till October. October. In 24/7 pain, can’t sit, even lying down hurts. Let’s not talk about the fear of needing the bathroom. Burning, stabbing pain that never ends. And months to wait for surgery. Don’t think we can cope for that long. Pain makes a person crazy out of their minds. We’re crying a lot.

Everything seems like it’s spiraling out of control, like a plane falling from the sky, trailing plumes of smoke and fire in it’s wake. Will we eject before it hits the ground, or will we be paste on the runway. We can’t find the eject button. Oh gods, where is it. The g-force is crushing our chest, it’s so hard to breathe. Don’t wanna write this, don’t wanna say. Wear the mask and pretend we’re good, like always. Don’t be a burden. Ever.

안녕  annyeong

Bad times

Our friend, and for many of us, more, is in hospital. They’re a multiple system that some of us have relationships with some of them. It’s complicated!

They had a wound in their foot which was stitched up. The very next day they ripped out the stitches, and left the wound open for a week, so of course it got infected. Cue the ambulance and a stay in hospital. They started acting really odd and paranoid and kinda delusional while they were there, and ended up signing out AMA. Did I mention that we were back and forward from the hozzie coz the nurses kept calling us to go in and calm them down?

2 days later, we’re on the phone, and realise they’re not making any sense. Totally confused, paranoid, thinking people have guns and are coming for them. So again, we call them an ambulance and stay on the phone for an hour waiting for it to come. They had to wait for police backup coz our friend has a history of being abusive and aggressive. They get rushed in, and the docs think the infection has spread and is making them act this way. We think different.

Turns out we were right. They did scans and lumbar punctures and tests, and the infection hadn’t spread. Instead, it’s a psychotic break, and they need psych care. We go in to visit, and they don’t recognise us much, and are spewing hate and vitriol at us, hitting all of our weak points and triggers. So they recognised us enough, I reckon.

They’re still there, waiting for a psych bed, as far as we know. The poor nurses. Our friend is raging delusional, thinks the nurses are trying to kill them, and are wandering through the ward, bursting into the other patient’s rooms and screaming at them. They now have a dedicated nurse with them all the time.

We’re angry coz we’ve been begging them to get psych care for 6 years, and they’ve always blown us off and attacked us for even daring to think that. They always have to be right, you see. It hurts to know that we were right, and to be hurt because we dared to say something. We’ve been hurt so many times over the years by them, but we stayed coz we care. So yeah, we’re angry that all that hurt could have been avoided, if only they didn’t have the burning need to always be right about everything.

And we’re worried about them, coz we care. We don’t know if they’ll be the same people when this is under control. Will those of us with partners there still have them? Or will we be left, alone. We don’t know. We can only hope.

It’s a bad situation all round, it really is.

-Blaine

My eyes! They burn!

They really do! We just had our annual diabetic eye exam. They put these drops in your eyes, and they sting like fuck. Then you sit there for 20 mins while your pupils dilate so much you look like an anime character lol They take photos of the insides and back of your eyes with this seriously bright flash!

The big thing is that the stinging and burning takes 4 hours to wear off *yikes* And until it does, your vision is like blurr-o-vision, and light hurts. Like it feels like you’re being stabbed in the eyeballs. I’m typing half by guesswork and half by knowing where the letters are lol And now I have a headache from my eyes being messed up. Meh.

I need cuddles. Big soppy snuggly cuddles. Any volunteers? 😉

Blaine

Crying

Just had a blow-up with P. We’d left a pair of boots in the living room and he tripped over them. So he threw them across the room and cursed us out. Then, when we went to hug him, he pushed us away and said no hugs for us until we learn to do better and put stuff away.

I had to jump in and get us away before we broke down in sobs. I just said fine, and took us upstairs to bed. It’s only 6pm but who cares. We don’t cry in front of people, even our partner of 17 years. It’s too vulnerable, and we hate feeling vulnerable. Vulnerable always got us punished, or mocked, or told to stop being so silly. Or it was thrown back in our face. Showing weakness wasn’t allowed. It’s a very hard lesson to un-learn.

I can shut down my emotions in situations like this. That’s why it’s me writing. I’m angry, and numb. Others are sobbing their hearts out. Withholding of affection is one of our few remaining triggers, and it’s a big one. Being told we have to be better to be worthy of affection is a fast trip back to childhood. The closed throat, the choking feeling, the place inside where we feel worthless, it’s all there. Again.

I have to write, because the feelings need to be aired. Otherwise, they’ll fester.

I can feel the rising need to cry coming from Inside, so I’ll step back and let it happen now. People need the release of tears.

And yes, we still love him. We just can’t deal with things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at. Thanks trauma for fucking us up.

Matthias