Thursday, July 20
went back to the neurologist that i went to a couple of years ago. different uniform, different haircut, different bag, same syndrome. my mother's relieved it's nothing worse. but it's a real kick to my gut, because i was hoping it might be something else this time, anything else, as long as it's curable. or fatal. because, please God, i don't want to wake up every morning for the next fifty years to excruciating pain and fatigue. please, please, God, make it fast. but what if i change my mind when the time comes? i don't know. maybe i don't want to know. i'm scared. i want to be strong for those who love me, because they don't need me to go all needy and weak on them. we all have our own burdens to carry. i know i never named the condition to a lot of you, and i never even told most of you why i have headaches almost every day and never seem to have enough energy. because, as rude as it sounds, it's my business. i don't need pity and i certainly don't want it. i don't need people hovering around me, constantly asking if i'm okay. because there's only one answer i'll ever give, and it's the truth: i have to be. i don't need anyone to waste time and their own energy worrying about me the way chris has been worrying about me on and off for the past three years. it's unfair to everyone. if you love me, take care of yourself first. don't worry about me, because nothing makes it better except maybe more drugs. and i'm not going to be the one to cast a shadow over the best years of your life. i'm saying this openly for once, because i want to be honest about it. because i don't want you to think i've been keeping secrets from you. and because now i know for sure it isn't going away. but treat me the way you've always done, pretend nothing's wrong, and close an eye when i disappear for days. i earned the right to be treated as fully human. admit it, i did. i attended school more or less regularly, i passed my exams, i even had a cca. i can do this, i can finish school and find a job, i can live and i can die. the neurologist asked me to read up on fibromyalgia, and i discovered that what i'd more or less taken for granted were symptoms. when i was first diagnosed years ago, i didn't take him seriously. but things have gotten worse since then. i'm never fully asleep. some days i can't feel my fingers anymore, even when i'm playing the piano. and the headaches never leave now. dry eyes, dry mouth. i drink so much water. tired all the time. all those times i wanted to just inject pure energy into my veins, something to jolt me awake enough to get through the day. i find it hard to accept that i may never exist even a day without being numbed and 'calmed' by drugs. i've come to terms with the gross number of painkillers i take, because it's that or curl up on the floor screeching my bloody brains out. but i'm not going to let that be an excuse. see, that's why i never named it for you before. i didn't want you to let me have that excuse. and you won't now, because i'll get mad and you'll regret getting me riled up. so maybe i ocp quite a lot, and sometimes miss school altogether. but i catch up with my work when i get back (or at least i try to) and i'm determined to do something with my life. if it's going to be this painful, i might as well either end it or do something worthwhile with it. and since ending it this year might traumatise people, and i really don't want to affect jan and the other a level people more than necessary, i'll try not to get knocked down by a lorry. there you go, my very optimistic post. i'd appreciate it if we avoided the topic after this. but you can't say i don't tell you anything now.
it must've been love.
9:51 pm
xoxo
