Going To Try Saying This Every Day

I am going to have the best day I can have today.

Attempts To Reconnect

 Well, with the NFL starting, the habit of talking to my friends made me reach out to them.

There’s been no responses, but also my contact ability through alternative means has not been blocked.  I am disappointed, though it was not expected that either would respond.  I do know better then to keep spamming attempts, however.

I do feel myself potentially getting down.  So, I’m preemptively taking an Ativan and remaining positive.  It’s pretty nice to not be in the abject misery of the past few weeks.  I’ll continue to try building momentum.

I do wish I knew how they felt.  I mean, if their lives are better without me, even when doing well, then, I’d be much better off knowing that so I could move on.  But I can’t give up on the idea that we are friends and my breakdowns were just too much for them.  That makes me hope they can see an upswing is happening and maybe they would want to be part of it.

I genuinely believe it would be a big lift to have even limited contact.  It’s tough that even mutual friends are all ghosting or blocking me, too.  

The current plan is to let my doctor prescribe a more manageable anti-depressant, like Prosac.  The Cymbalta route scared me, and was wrong, at least for now.

So it goes.

Fighting Failure

I’m still feeling pretty horrible, wondering how long it’s going to last and if I’ll suffer “withdrawal” from just one dose.  I feel like the drug just messes with you so much, it’s not withdrawal, so much as it’s dealing with major changes to bio-chemistry.

I was so hopeful yesterday.  I told all the boards I’ve been frequenting and reached out to former friends, hoping they would enjoy the positive development.

Now, I’m fighting to not fall back into despair.  Alone again for the rest of the day, it’s so fucking hard to remain positive.  I’m far too out of it to try Elden Ring, vision blurry, sweating and dizzy.  I wish I were not alone.  I feel so insignificant. I wish anyone out there wanted my company.

The people I love intentionally do not want me around.  No one enjoys my company. I hate this so much.

———

I think I understand a little more, an aspect of what went wrong with my friends.

Only people that live in chronic pain or have been traumatized by it understand it.  It’s the relentlessness more than the degree of pain.  It’s never getting a break.  I need distractions.  My friends wanted to help, not realizing just their attention on any topic was the help I needed.  Instead their efforts to help would upset me, when I would be better just with some company.  My frustration would antagonize them, as they are trying to help and I do not recognize it, so focused on just wanting some attention, pushing them away, and making the pattern cycle.

I wish I could go back and be clearer.  I wish I could stop myself from antagonizing them.

I’ll have to find a different anti-depressant when I recover from this crap.  Maybe it will stop me from missing those I love so much.

———-

Almost 3pm, I’ll try an Ativan now, far enough removed from my last Vicodin, and leaving room for another Vicodin if in more physical pain tonight.  I am suddenly in such an overwhelmed state, crying.  It’ll be nice to see if Ativan helps.

Bad Night Not Done - I WANT TO MOVE ON

 Oh. This is not fun.

Again, it ain’t that Shingles Vaccine, but this is pretty bad.

I am wondering if I’m going to have withdrawal from a single dose.  Honestly, I don’t think it is a “withdrawal” issue, so much as this medication so alters you, taking it away alters you again.

The dizziness and movement issues are kinda concerning with limbs that disable from gravity alone.  A weird thing, my face was covered in sweat when I woke up.  My face?  My cheeks were sweating?  WTF, right?

I can understand my doctor seeing a pill advertised as helping pain and depression and pushing it on me, but FUCK!

Enough of that … I need to endure whatever this thing has in store for me for however long it continues to last.  Then, prepare for whatever spaghetti gets thrown at the wall next.

I was in a pretty good place, pretty positive, preparing myself for this med, and I can embrace that even though the med failed.  

Alright, this is getting difficult … wow, how is this drug okay?

Almost made it through the post without tears.

No.

 It’s 1am and Cymbalta has been a bad experience.  I’m not gonna use this stuff.  No way.

If I somehow fall asleep and wake up feeling great, maybe, but this is not okay.  It’s not Shingles Vaccine side effects, but it’s bad enough to really want it to stop.  Dizzy, but a fucked up, weird dizzy, as if sometimes parts of me get hit by more gravity.  Nausea, pain, muscle cramps, very messed up balance (I almost fall over often).

I’ll endure this and figure out what’s next on Monday.

I really hope this feeling doesn’t last, but I fear it may be a few days.  Why do I trust my doctor at all?

Once Upon A Time Called Now! Cymbalta Tonight!

 Okay.  Nervous.

Cymbalta starts tonight.  It’s supposed to be the same time every day, cause it fucks you up if you are late taking it (joy, wtf am I taking!?!?).  I figure since my mornings vary so much, bad night can mean leaving for the pool before 5am, but if I am sleeping, actually sleeping, I let myself sleep.

So, nights it is!

Taking it at 7:30.  So, by what? 7:37 or so, I’m cured, right?  :D

If you read this, send good vibes.  I really don’t want to go through side effects he’ll on this drug.

Pool Paranoia

Sigh.

I had a decent day yesterday, before the house turned into an oven around 5, anyways.  My swim was not that good, but I was making some progress in getting the wrecked right arm (from the blood draw) more manageable, and in reorganizing the living room, I had disrupted some negativity.  I only cried 5-6 times, and none more than a few minutes (sadly, that’s big progress).  I was looking forward, and glad today is thought to be the last of this Hell On Earth week.

The pool was packed when I got there at 6am today.  While changing, though, a lane opened up.  That made me a little optimistic.  Some luck, right?

Prepping to get in, sitting on the edge, I was surprised by just how hot the pool had gotten, and was even intrigued it could be quite useful today.  Two women were sharing the lane next to me, and one was near and approaching just as I had put my feet in.  I smiled, and in a friendly tone joked, “This pool has never BEEN so warm!”

She was looking at me when I spoke, in the eyes, but then looked away, no expression at all, totally ignoring me.  She turned at the wall, as the woman she shared the lane with was trailing by maybe 15 feet.  By how that woman, shared an eyeroll with the one that just ignored me, it seemed pretty obvious she intentionally ignored me.

The next 1:45 minutes was dominated by thoughts of my reputation in the pool, because of how I walk and dislocate all the time, and because of the wellness check when two policemen asked from the pool and interviewed me in the view of the entire club, breakdowns, subluxations, and all.

Even if it had nothing to do with the police visit, this did not used to happen when I was JUST a physical oddity.  Am I doomed to be paranoid and never return to a relax state at the pool?  Do I need to never even try to talk to anyone?  [fuck, first cry of day starting]  Am I really such an embarrassment no one will even exchange pleasantries?  How the fuck am I ever going to make any new friends?  

———

I am compelled to write the following, in case former friends do actually come and read, again.  If any of you, W, C, or A, do come and look, it means you don’t hate me completely, I hope.  I mean, I would think it means you remain concerned.  I ask you to think about why you ghosted me, which I believe was also in part trying to help, yes?  Believing I needed to seek new help and remaining engaged was doing more harm than good, yes?  I’m not disregarding the negative and/or hateful/mean things I wrote.  I just hope time can help forgive things said you must know came from a place of fear and despair.

I am asking you to consider whether any limited contact with express boundaries would be possible moving forward.  I am getting some help, but I am also so stymied by such loneliness.  [second cry starting, lol]  I am trying.  I am having some successes.  Some hurdles just seem so high, and I could really use a friend.  Just knowing someone still cares instead of hoping it is the case.

I should be starting Cymbalta in the next day or so, and it is supposed to start taking effect within a few days to a week or so.  It would be VERY helpful, IMO, to have some positive reenforcement, some positive interactions, while the drug starts to take effect and alter mood.  I do not want to establish isolation [3rd, sigh] with the drug lessening pain and negative moods (presuming it works).  I really do not want to have shitshows like today’s pool interaction making me even more prone to isolation.

Please consider it.

———

There was some minor progress in the unwinding/unfolding department near the very end of the swim.  Not up for writing about it, though, anymore.  It was not significant enough to create any meditations or focuses for the future, anyways.

I do wonder if Cymbalta could end up aiding my swimming, as I did associate finally letting go of some anxiety/stress after 1.5 hours when the progress happened.  I do worry about becoming numb to some pains that actually help me find where I need to move, but it may not be all negative.  Just saying, while I am nervous as hell about the new med, I do have some hopes it could help and can imagine possible paths.

So it goes.

Alright, last long as fuck insane temperature day, hopefully.  Should reach 110.  House should suck again, at least until after midnight.  It’ll be hilarious, I should think, when the projected 95 degree heat of Saturday feels cool.

I just hope they remember to turn the heat for the pool back on in a day or two.  I can totally see the pool end up too cold by Tuesday.  I need to remember to say something.

———

Back to Elden Ring … so difficult to figure out what I still have to do on my best character.  Part of me is tempted to start anew, but I should really try finishing the game once first, lol.  I’ll never have the patience to make a character as strong as my current one.  I’m aiming at finishing as a goal.  Wow, look at me and the rampant positivity!  :’D

Changing My Living Space

I needed something to change.  So, I rearranged the living room, and hooked up the xBox there, out of my  bedroom.

I like the layout.  I started playing Elden Ring again, and lasted about 1.5 hours, stopping before the hands bothered me much (though they started feeling sore).

Got the message from my doctor starting my Cymbalta usage.  It’s got me nervous.  I swear, everything my doc does hurts me.  The Shingles Vaccine was torture, and the blood draw yesterday still has my arm a bit tweaked.  So, I see so many people talking about horrific Cymbalta side effects, I’m getting anxious.

This has me missing my friends, lol.  Damn Xbox.  The connection is so much better than my shit “smart” tv, I want to keep using it, but damn.  I need to accept that they are not in my life and I am not in theirs.

Loneliness suck.  I have the first NFL game on and, of course, miss talking NFL with them.

I hope Cymbalta numbs my brain and makes me not give a shit about anyone or anything.  I’ve read a few people “complain” of that.  I hate the idea of never loving or feeling loved again, though.  

Thank God I have Big Pharma as a friend!  

———

Still two more hellish nights to get through.  The house is okay until around 5pm, then it’s too hot for the AC to even dent, and too hot to open windows until after midnight.

Will I ever sleep again? Will I ever be happy?  Hell, will I ever just be okay?  Content?  Will I ever have a single friend again?

———

Reddit has helped and hurt.  It hurts when others’ experiences remind me of things like how I have always struggled to have friends, that people that call me a friend never invited me or involve me in things.  It’s a common theme on the mental health thread, people that put in effort, that help others, that are told they are appreciated, yet it doesn’t go the other way.

It’s depressing to realize that was childhood through now.  No, until Covid.  I would not say the friends I made online would go out of their way to invite me in things, but I did feel accepted sometimes, and I kept busy.  I had problems with many, too, though.

Will it be better if I go numb?  I mean, I would be crying all the time.  But if I don’t care, am I worthy of friendship?  Will I care if I do not make new ones?  Will I care if my old friends never forgive me?

I think I’ll just pass through my days on auto-pilot until I die.  But my friend Big Pharma will be there for me, right?

I want to not be miserable, but I would like to be happy again.  Fuck.  Loneliness fucks with me too much.

Long Day Coming

 I got a short swim in at 5am.

Then, I went to the lab for a blood draw and urine test.  I am phobic of needles and blood draws.  I’m cringing up writing about it.  I think it may be related to my arm being out of whack.  I still cannot straighten it out.  The tendons seem wrong and there is swelling.  The shoulder is out of place as well.

I’m in a decent amount of pain. 

And the house stinks, though not as bad as the last time, when Nymeria ate part of a skunk.  It’s burning my eyes still, and my nose is clogging up.  The albuterol from earlier is still working, at least.  I am not wheezing.

It’s already 90 degrees out.  I had thoughts of going back to the pool to try to relax this arm and my neck and head (so tense still!), but I don’t want to risk getting too hot.  Plus, I did just leak four veils of blood.  Probably not the best time for a still ill feeling idiot to go swim.

But oh, today will be a long one.  

Instead of the wife and daughter getting home around 5-6, they won’t be home until after midnight.  There is a film premiere of My So Called High School Rank, about Ranked! A Musical, and they won’t be home until 1-2am, most likely.

Not the best of days to be friendless and alone.

Oh, God, No!

 The dogs were barking and I let them out.

Nymeria was skunked again.

It’s almost 1am and still 85 degrees.

It’s going to be over 110 the next three days.

My eyes are burning and it’s unbearably hot still in the house, the smell is overwhelming.

This is too much.  Fuck this world.

Almost 2am now.  I needed albuterol to help me breathe.

I’m hiding from the smell in the bathroom, laying on the floor, turning on the shower every few minutes to clean the air a bit.  My nose is shut and breathing is difficult.

It is cooler here, naked and wet on the bathroom floor.  It’s probably 82 degrees or so.  One nostril is starting to open, hopefully.

Ominous Feeling

It is supposed to reach 115 here today.  I’m having concerns.  Still not feeling well at all from yesterday, getting to hot while not doing well to begin with.

I only swam for 40 minutes or so.  I could feel it getting really hot, really quick, and thought I should ride home before it takes too much effort.

It was barely 8:30am and you could really feel the heat off the sun.  The ride home was, noticeably wrong.  The air was wrong.  It was kinda ominous.

All of the plants were slightly wilting, as if none of them had gotten enough sleep and the sun was waking them up too soon and all were reluctant to face the day.

The Canadian Geese that usually hoard a soccer field were all up the side of the hill, nearer the path than I had ever seen them.  They seemed off, as if confused why their spot did not feel like their spot.

Was I noticing real differences because of this insane, outside the norm, heat?  Or am I carrying ominous feelings and projecting?

If we get a power outage … it’s gonna be bad.  I’m not sure I make it through today if the house is just like yesterday, and it’s likely to be a few degrees hotter.  The garage is already an oven, making my bedroom already warmer close to the garage side wall.  It’s crazy.

I’m not exactly scared.  I am lonely, though.

It certainly would be my world ending in a whimper.

OMFG It’s Too Hot!

 It’s almost 8pm and still 105 outside.  The house is too hot for me.  It’s been a very, very bad day.

I do not think I’ll be able to sleep.  I have a wet towel on my head, which has yet to stop hurting today.  I have an ice bag, too, which I switch with the towel.

Overnight low is 80.  The house is not going to cool off.  My bedroom gets minimal AC, and one wall is adjacent to the garage, which is probably around 120 degrees.

This is gonna be bad.

Tomorrow is supposed to reach 115.  That’s the hottest I’ll have ever been in, and in this house, it may kill me.  I feel very I’ll already and have not slept in days.  This migraine is overwhelming.  It almost feels like the Shingles Vaccine is still kicking my ass.

I’ve been incapable of caring for myself today.  If tomorrow is worse, as expected, I’m in trouble.

This house may kill me after all. 

Can’t Escape Torment

My head is in too much pain today and nothing is working.

It’s times like this, alone in the house, laying in bed, can’t put my glasses on because my head hurts so much, I want to reach out to a friend, but there are none.  I can’t do this.

I can never make amends.  I will never be worth their time or effort.

I am a worthless mass of pain. I should never have tried to be a friend.  I am so heartbroken.  I cannot imagine how much I must have hurt them.  I, WE, reached out to people we hated when they were far less miserable than I am now.  The amount of loathing they must have for me, I do not understand.

——

To my friends, should you read this …

I am not strong enough to do this alone.  I am sorry.  I wish you both could see me.  I daydream of getting on a plane, of enduring the pain it would entail, just to be able to apologize in person.  I want you to see my eyes, my facial expressions, hear my voice inflections.  I want you to know how much I love you both and regret putting such pressure on you.  I want you both to KNOW how highly I think of you.

I am in a Catch-22.  I am not going to get better without your support, and I cannot ask for your support until I am better.  It all got too out of hand.

I wonder if we had met without a Covid shut down.  I was doing so well in my rehabilitation before everything went to shit.

I have not had fun in over a year.  I tried warning you both how much this new house exacerbates my suffering.  I thought I was asking you for help, but I was putting pressure on you, yes?  I’m sorry I was not strong enough.

I am giving up.  I cannot endure pain like this hidden away from everyone.  I won’t.

If Cymbalta doesn’t help substantially, I am done.  This is torture.

I so would have liked to watch your journey as parents.  It pains me greatly, all I have missed already.  I hope you both know how beautiful you are.  You’ll have such a journey.  I wish I had been a better friend. I wish I did not drive you both away.  I am a broken fuckup.  

Perhaps I’ll finally be able to let go of you both in spirit finally, when I let go of my body.  :’)

Why I’m Miserable

 I had a lonely childhood.

I’ve had very few friends.  I am not in touch with anyone from before moving to Sacramento over 20 years ago, and I have none here now save one of my wife’s co-workers whom I could call in an emergency.

Since I was very young, I would get a lot out of nature.  I would go for walks.  When older, bike rides.

I was rarely happy, but I could view nature and feel some peace.

I used to be able to see the beauty of nearly anything in nature.  I would soak it up.

I learned I needed to soak up all the good that I could in order to get by.  It was easy when I lived in the Bay Area.  There were so many beautiful views.  I can remember many, not picture them (aphanatasia), but I remember them.

I realize this used to be how I dealt with sadness.  I used to go for some very long walks.

Sacramento does have some decent views, some beauty, but for the most part, it’s a flood plain, a miserable place to decide to build a city.  I was very upset to move here.  I did explore some, before my body went to shit, the rivers and open spaces, the dog parks.

Our yard in West Sacramento had a view of the deep water canal and some open space.  We had several trees and open views.  That’s gone now, too, here in this little box surrounded by neighbor’s 2 story houses.  I can’t stand it.

The park on the way to the pool is nice.  I really need to start trying to walk there when the weather allows.  Wrong week for that right now, lol.  106 degrees, today!  Expecting 113 degrees for the next two days!  

My wife chose to apply for a job here without asking me first.  That will haunt me until the grave.

In more recent years, the beauty was more difficult to find.  I would even look at roadkill, and see the life that was, and try to soak in the beauty of what had been.  That is how low I was, how little joy was in my life when Lizzie started going to school, so many days alone, for years.

The two friends I met during Covid closures, my best friends ever, were the first time I found beauty in others.  I loved them both.  I loved their marriage.  I enjoyed so much about them that I felt better, and I enjoyed who I was when I was with either of them.  It was so incredible.

And while I am upset they are gone, the real sadness I face is of lost opportunity.

I am 51 and my health is deteriorating so much more every year.  I am running out of time.

I do not have access to the nature I have enjoyed all my life, nor the friendships that showed me even greater beauty.  And I am running out of time.

More time wasted.  I have wasted so much of my life already.

This is the truest reason for my misery and the tears I cannot stop making.  I know I am running out of time and I have nothing to enjoy while it slips through my fingers.

I sit in a room with no view and listen to the air conditioning.  I truly hate it here, in this house, in this city.  

I remember when we first moved here, and people tried to argue it was wonderful to be a 2 hour drive to the mountains or a 2 hour drive to the ocean.  “You can do whatever you want!” they said.

No.  I can’t.  Spending time in nature is now outside my control.  Now, even spending time with friends is beyond my control.

Resisting Urges

I’m having a beast of a time resisting the urge to reach out to my … best friends.  I can’t help but think of them that way, still, and maybe that’s part of the problem.  I mean, I don’t believe they stopped caring, but I imagine it is more probable than not that they don’t think of me as a friend anymore.

Only, I can’t stop crying, lol.  It’s everything, but they were such a valued relationship.

I have unplugged my XBox for a few weeks now (plugged in to send what I thought was important messages last week, only for my doctor to not give a shit) and deleted the App.  It helps.  I still grab the iPad to check for messages and when I have one I momentarily want to send before remembering, but at least I am not spending the entire day on the XBox and it’s apps, where it was habit to check what friends were playing.

Of course, I’m blocked by the “friends” I’d want to reach out to.  So, I guess it would not scratch that itch anyways.

I think the goal for the day has to be to keep the XBox off.  I have to endure the rest of today (only 10am, fuck) and get to Monday.  I wish I did not miss them so badly.  [tears again. Lol]

I really did collapse back into missing them as if they just left since my Shingles Vaccine delirium. I’m not going to say I was doing good, but I had made some progress and was definitely crying a lot less than since it.  I think I got through so many really bad stints of pain with them in mind the last two years.  Even when they could not respond, I felt connected to them.

I could really feel the void left behind during that post vaccine shitshow.  Starting over fucking sucks!

I think I am too embarrassed to get back on the Xbox, too.  So many had ghosted me, I was definitely spoken of, at least between those I tried to reach out to.  I feel so pathetic, an old fool.  Odds are no one checks to see if I have returned, and I’ll likely never even be thought of again by most.  I was pretty insignificant.

I wish the NFL started today.  That’d be watchable tv, at least.  Yet, I’ll be bummed all season, again, not getting into any fantasy leagues with friends again.  So it goes.

Guess I’ll try more Breathe of the Wild on Switch.  Not liking it too much.  I think I would like Craftopia much more if it did not glitch so much, another single player (for me, lol) game.  It’ll get me through an hour, maybe.

I find it so insane that a little more than 2 years ago, I was at an incredible low point.  It was unfathomable that things could get much worse.  This isolation is much worse.

Okay … one hour at a time.

Edit - made it to 5pm.  Woohooo!  Only needed to get through 40 or so urges and a couple crying bouts, lol.  I’m pathetic.

Cymbalta Feedback Scaring Me

I got a lot of feedback on Reddit and I am freaking out a little.  Brain zaps?  Harsh withdrawal?  Just what is this stuff?

There are positive reviews, too, and I get that I pretty much have to try, but fuck I hate feeling coerced into this.  Doctors always fucking hurt me, as seen by the last week thanks to that Shingles Vaccine.  I just have a feeling of dread that I am going to be hurt more.

I am really tired of everything always getting worse and worse, and a common theme from doctors is he doesn’t have a clue what is wrong with me (doesn’t listen) and throws spaghetti at the wall with the things he’s been promoted to use.  I tend to pay.

I’m sacred.  I can’t say I want to do this.

Many have had help from it for “nerve pain,” whatever the fuck that means.  I’d feel more confident if I had that diagnosis.  I’d feel better if anyone fucking understood what wrong with me before trying to shoehorn me with other treatments.

I’m not going to have any support when this goes badly.  

Fuck.  Here comes another breakdown morning before my day even gets started.  I can’t keep doing this.

Time to sit in the hot tub for a few hours, stifling tears and moans, because I’ll be right under all my neighbor’s open windows with this heat wave going.  Two hours to kill before the pool opens.

I guess this is my life now.

No Other Options

 I do not feel I have any other options than to submit to my doctor in wanting to give me Cymbalta.

I do not trust it.  I am weary of any med that has had way too many commercials pushing it.  If it was good and worked, doctors would see the evidence and prescribe it without needing to have people convinced to ask for it through commercials!

Still.  I have no doubt I kill myself soon on this present course, friendless and in pain, constantly alone.

I fear it will fuck up my unwinding.  This has always been my fear.  I’ll ignore some physical pains, lose the sensations that help guide the needed unfolding.  I’ll have to be mindful for other cues.

I also do not know yet what meds my doctor may make me quit to prevent issues, … or maybe I’ll just be permanently pickled.

This is me giving up on ever getting better.  I will never regain my balance.  I will never unfold my love.

I truly believe fear has stayed my hand at suicide.

I believe first breakdown while on Cymbalta likely results in killing myself.

At least it will be over.

AAAAaaaauuuuuggggghhhh!

I miss my friends too much.

It’s a nightmarish situation.  I would complain too much about my pains to them, but I did also chat a lot.  Now, having driven them off, I have so much extra time and I am in more pain.

I’ve been trying to use Reddit, chronic pain and mental health threads, reading a lot and commenting when I feel I relate or can help.  I post once in a while, but it is not very useful other than a time kill.

I’m noticing that not having them to chat with at all, just “hellos” and jokes and headlines and such, I am missing such a crucial part of how I managed to endure.  Chatting with them was a mindset, like having them with me.  I always liked to joke and make them laugh, so I’d be looking towards the funny side of everything, hoping to share.  I don’t look at the positive or funny side of anything.

My mornings all start so badly now, too.

They are 2 hours ahead of me, and both early risers.  My nights are horrific, constant dislocations and little sleep, often near sleepless.  I could greet and start joking and talking with them sometimes at 4am, even 3am.  Just a little banter would help end the night’s agony and often steer me towards a positive start to the day.

It snowballs now.  Pain cascades and I have nowhere to turn all night, only to realize they are likely awake at some point, active and living a beautiful life, and they don’t want me anywhere near it.  My despair causes breakdowns, and I leave for the pool and my morning swim with bloodshot teary eyes.  I start the day at the bottom and it’s hours and hours of loneliness and pain to follow.  So few distractions.

I wonder if I was so horrible they don’t even miss me in any form.  Was any banter enjoyed?  Am I missed in any way?  Did I so overwhelm any good feelings toward me that I really am a monster?

I hope they are happy.  I love them.  I wish they missed me enough to want my company, the good me, anyways, or consider giving me a chance again, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.  They have the perfect new chapter of life to move forward and be happy.  Truly happy.  Yes, I wanted to be part of that life, but …

The first half of this post shows I am too much effort.  They suffered too much of my misery.  When I hit rock bottom (what WAS the bottom, lol), I was WAY too much for them to handle, and I vented at my life, but hurt them in my confused idiocy and blame.  I cannot imagine myself ever worth their attention again. Why should they risk it?  I have Ativan now to take when I begin an anxiety based cascading collapse of pain, and that would have been enough before.  

But that was before, before hurting them and sinking even lower … to THIS.

How do I accept so much more time and pain?  How do I possibly find any joy again, let alone casual friendships?  I am an abomination, doomed to spiral further and further into misery and pain.  Fuck.

F M L

 It’s been one weird week.

I had a realization I believed was HUGE.  I’ve been a paradoxical breather for as long as I can remember.  It causes an extra exhale to occur when I am done speaking.  I used to get teased for it.

I had no idea it was a medically known condition.  They do not understand it, of course, and maybe that is why my doctor, after I tell him this, hoping to finally bridge the gap in understanding between us regarding my folded, perverted postural issues and muscle memory, he responded, “My dog has a reverse sneeze.”

All the excitement of the previous two days was gone in an instant.

All was not lost, however, as I did manage to talk him into allowing me to try Ativan when my anxiety spikes, before I have cascading pain events.  I do need to be careful, as I still have Vicodin, and the two should not be mixed.

I’ve been a total mess for months now, the appointment was a goal, and I at least managed to to completely come out screwed.  I was in agony by the end of the visit, the drive, the waiting, the exchanges.  I set up blood draws and tests for the rest of the week, and then he said I should get both the Flu and Shingles Vaccines.

I was an idiot to do them both.

I am just now regaining my wits.  I spent two days delirious with fever/chills and incredible pain.  I could not sleep for the first 38 hours because both shoulders were in too much pain to lay on.  It was one of the most miserable experiences of my life.  Except for two 5 minute stretches where I begged my wife to scratch my back, I was moaning and screaming and miserable and alone.

Coming around today, thinking again, everything came flooding back, how I am friendless, how my hopes of my doctor understanding me finally went for naught.  I lost all motivation.  I feel dead inside.  I did force myself to swim, but it remains a difficult experience.

I used my first Ativan about 3 hours ago, and it’s why I can write this.  It appears to be working.  It headed off a crying spree and mental collapse.  Maybe this stuff will work.

I did go off on my doctor for a while in the visit.  He wanted to give me Cymbalta and refer me to psych, just as I had worried he would.  After not even trying to understand how paradoxical breathing fits with my situation, I ranted.  I ranted about my condition and how no one has even been able to say back to me anything near what I believe is the problem.  I ranted that I have had an exceptional record using my Vicodin, yet still am untrusted.  I ranted about how my daily regimen, and how it fits the goals you find in any psychological treatment of chronic pain, my exercise, my meditation, my activities with friends …

Then I pointed out to look at our records, our appointments in the last 2 years, and how I begged every time for stronger meds, needing a break from pain I was not getting.  I pointed out it was to supplement my activities, the very things a psychologist would be trying to get me to do.  I pointed out that I HAD friends that also helped me so much to distract from pain, and maybe had he given me what I had begged for, I would not have collapsed as I did.  Maybe I’d still have friends.

No, I ranted.  I am lower than ever, and still not listened to.  He told me he did not want to give me Ativan because I could overdose.  Quite angry, I went lawyer on him, “So, … Cymbalta … do they still have suicide warnings on those bottles?  Did I not tell you earlier that if you get rid of my fear that I’m a definite suicide risk?  How is Cymbalta less a risk than Ativan?”

He caved.  We’ll see how it goes with this bottle, but at least I get to try it.

Then, the vaccines.  Fuck my life. That was ridiculous.  Such pain.  Wiping my memory, too.  I could not think for 2+ days.

It’s like I am starting all over again, like 20 years ago, new city, no friends, pain, no one believing or understanding me.  I do not want to try all this shit again.  I was so miserable and alone for so long.  I don’t have Maya and Matilda this time, my favorite dogs.  I don’t have the West Sac rec center where I was respected and liked by many.  I don’t have a backyard with nature and birds where I could sit in peace.  Everything is so much fucking harder now, and I have so little help.

The people at the Club pool all avoid interaction with me.  I tried a few conversations, but it’s clear the rumors about me after the cops visiting have had an effect, coupled with my difficulty walking and chronic dislocations, occasional tears and the slight muffled screams of pain.  It’s not at all like my old pool.

It’s going to be well over 100 degrees every day for the next week, too, lol.  So much for the swim spa.

So, I’m struggling, you could say.

——-

I’ll wake up tomorrow and go to the pool.  It’s all I can do.  Maybe something gets better.

————

Update - home from swim, NOT ONE person at the pool gave a return nod to me today.  Many that made eye contact were people I used to speak to, only now their eyes went back to straight in front of them and no return nod.  I wanted to go full Five Point Palm Exploding Heart Technique on their asses.  Not one person?!?!  What the fuck do they think of me?  

Maybe I’ll bike farther and try the new rec center pool tomorrow, though I’ll have to pay to get in and likely have to share a lane.  I truly among the unluckiest people on the planet, managing to to achieve isolation from online friends and all real world acquaintances, when I need a friend, Jesus, just someone to have a random conversation with and distract myself for a while.

It’s 19 hours until I go out and swim again.  So many hours to endure.  Do I deserve this?  I must be such a worse person than my greatest fear.

Sometimes It Snows In April

Sad and lonely, managed to sit at the piano and do this.  Hands barley working.  Gaming hurts.  Guitar hurts.  Piano … simple chords are about it.

It did help to disconnect the Xbox.  I’m wondering if I need to hide my iPad and give up on the internet and have no forms of communication around me.  No reminders.

I should just limp into the woods and see how long I can last.

Instead, I sit at the piano or in front of a tv and hurt and cry feel so isolated.  It’s like I’m in solitary confinement.  Do I really deserve my life to be this shitty?

https://www.dropbox.com/s/gtbigy4tt1v1adx/Sometimes%20It%20Snows%20In%20April.m4a?dl=0

All Consuming Loneliness

Loneliness is such a catalyst for my pain. It’s sending me in cycles of such despair.

I miss my friends physically. Knowing them, carrying them with me as I experienced life, was so special.  It gave me comfort.

I am devoid of comforts, now.  It’s like being cast into a void.  There is nothing in every direction.  Just me and pain.

I keep swimming.  I keep playing music when I can.  I play a little bit of videogames when my wrists allow.  The tv is on, but I can’t pay attention for long.  I don’t care about it.

I cared about my friendships.  I knew I was lucky to have them.

I feel like I failed to help them cope with me.  I should have given them a safe word or something.  “You say this, and it means I am overwhelming you and need to step back for a while.”  If they could have been comfortable with pushing me away, but letting me know how long they thought they needed, I could have done it so easily, I think.  I mean, as long as it wasn’t weeks or months.

Am I impossible to befriend?  

I’m in such pain, and every source notes how much friendships help lower chronic pain.  Maybe we need training, to be careful not to become addicted.  They were so much more wonderful than any pain killer.  I liked myself when they interacted with me.  My reality was so much better with them in it.

How can I possibly get to a lesser pain level now?  They are gone and all is worse.  I’m incapable of meeting anyone new, and if I did, I’m so shitty who would really want to get to know me and spend time with me?  I’m so fucked.

Self Loathing with the Weekend

The weekend hits and I feel spikes of despair and longing, missing my failed friendships.

It’s so hard to endure pain in isolation.  I feel no connections to anyone, as if I might as well not exist.

I find myself repeating, “I hate my life,” to the tune of Pinocchio’s I Got No Strings.  Fitting, having no connections anymore.  Sing it with me, everybody!  

I hate my life

I hate my life

I hate my life

I hate my life

I hate life

I hate my life

I fucking hate my life

For Me To Look Back On, Hopefully

I had lost most of the friends I spent time with that I had met in Xbox games. I let a few know I was not handling things well, and would disconnect my Xbox.  I let them know other ways to check in with me should any want to in the future.

I’m losing it.  It’s hard enough to exist with all my pains, losing all friends … I’m bottoming out.

——-

I was having a dream where I was sitting on the floor crying about the stuff I’ve been breaking down about for weeks.  I felt someone tough my shoulder.  I turned and a woman was sitting in a chair beside me, smiling, and she was gently touching my shoulder, slightly gliding a little down my arm.  I was focused on her smile, and I felt connected to someone for the first time in a very long time.  I felt like tension was releasing.

Then, I was awoken by the sound of a text.  Only one person would be texting, and my heart leapt, thinking maybe I was to be forgiven for words said while lashing out in despair and pain and frustration, words I did not mean but were my fears.

It was him, but informing me to stop trying to send any information his way through anyone (no one responding to me for days, I had no idea if anything had even been looked at by anyone).  I did appreciate it, in that I would have stopped earlier had anyone responded to me.  Yet, the way it conflicted with that moment I had been awoken from …

I don’t know.  I am isolated and in pain for most of the day.  Time goes very slow.  Nights are worse.  Sleep is so rare.  I do not think this will end well for me, but I am trying.

I have not given up, yet.  Some day, no more posts will likely mean I have.

So Lost

It has been less than 24 hours since I lost my only remaining friend that I communicated with any regularity.

The strangest thing is to have no reason to check my iPad anymore.  There is no reason to look at my Xbox App to see if he is awake and on line or if he has left me a message.  There is no reason to check for emails.

Before making actual friends through the Xbox, the only people I interacted with on line were people on a book review website, where a new comment would exist every few hours or days, or when I would post regularly on an old SF Giants site that does not even exist anymore (neither do the Giants, to me, anyways, since using the DH).

I feel so empty, so worthless, so lost.

I was no longer living, really, when I met them.  The 20 years since moving to Sacramento and becoming a friendless invalid had turned me into such a shell of a human being.  Making friends was the most wonderful thing.  I was suddenly more than a bag of pain that burdened my family.  I had a reason to wake up other than to try to stop the pain of dislocations.

I had people I loved to see how they were.  People to try to make laugh.  People to share existence with.

It’s gone now.

I am in more pain than ever physically.  I am alone, laying in an out of the way bedroom, waiting to die.

I stare at the knife by my bedside, but I lack the nerve.  I hold the plastic bag and think that will leave less of a mess.  Maybe I’ll even lay down a layer of plastic to help contain the mess of my bowels.  There is no reason to make things worse on those that will clean up my body.  I’ve been such a burden for so long as it is.

I am in far too much pain to be able to try to make new friends.  I can not think very well.  I definitely do not want to have to try and explain the shitshow that is my life to anyone new.

I do not know that I can bear going on without friends.  I have no value at all to anyone.  I have no reason to endure the agony every moment brings me trapped in this body.

I cannot go back to the person I was.  I hurt so much more.  I had some real world acquaintances, but moved to a new area a year ago, losing the people I had known in the pool I frequented.  I know no one here.

I am alone and I cannot justify continuing this anymore.

Goodbye.

Twisted

 I’m not well.  Unfolding had contorted me into uncomfortable twists.  I cannot maintain positions easing strain and/or pressure.  My abdomen and hips are proving difficult.  My shoulders and sides are a wreck.  Whatever I am trying to accomplish, I fear, is far more fucked up that I ever dreamed in my worst nightmare.

I am choking sometimes, my throat folding from muscle memory and twists.  My stomach, beneath, wants to vomit whenever the choking is unfolded, as if I am going to “pop” a la Neo.   Shoulders are out of position to a degree that my sides are wrong, one very buckled while the other … indescribable, maybe cramped, too much smushed together, but some sections are so loose.

Hands are a mess.  Left index finger is very bad.  Pain.  Knuckles swell.  Slightest wrong movement or bump dislocates.  Right thumb is somehow related to forearm and wrist.

All sometimes makes sense, but separately, never all together.  Focus on any one and things cramp, cascading pain and exponentially complicated issues.

I get incredible pressure in my head.  My neck has issues, kinks and cricks.  

I worry the new toy, electric pulses, does too much strengthening for locations.  I think the right spots could produces incredible progress coupled with my swimming.  The wrong spots, with me unable to know how to position myself … makes me anxious about torturous pain like the head pain of this afternoon.

The scariest is something in my head/face, cheeks/eyes, jaw.  There are shifts.  There is pressure sometimes.  Such pressure.  Vision goes fuzzy, slight tremors, maybe.  I go go cross eyed and produce “double vision” (camera one and two not aligned), and I am fairly certain muscle memory forces vision correctness at the cost of strain and incorrect alignment.  Always such pain.

I worry this is too ingrained or muscle memories and kinks in the neck and head to be corrected, and I will continue to experience rather horrific head pain and discomfort for extended periods.  There is no alternative but to continue, but I fear I developed from childhood in ways which will not correct themselves by unfolding.

Into Unknowns

It is like the moment when your stomach lurches and reverses field, when the muscles create a wave of motion in reverse and you vomit.

That is the change I seek in muscles, too many to identify.  In this sense, I am physically nauseous, all the time, often in pain.

I don’t know what is happening, if I am near a success, or if I am near a bad end.

I am so tired.  It has been so long, this unfolding.

I face this alone, and my only hope is that the habits I spent years to establish, how I seek folds and reverse them, will be enough.  

I have nothing left.  I have no will anymore.  I have nothing.

Near The End

 I believe I am close to killing myself.

My constantly changing pain makes me horribly unstable, mentally and physically.

At a low point during the Covid shut down, I met two wonderful people that helped me.  I love them both deeply.  I may have even helped them do some wonderful things.

But my instability drove one away from me, and I cannot handle it.  I cannot remain close friends with the other, when they were both so important to me.  So, one washed her hands of me, and I had to walk away from the other, or invariably become so frustrated and angry as to do things to harm them.  I would. 

I want to now, even.  I want to kill myself on their doorstep, make her see my heart literally broken.  Lucky them, eh?  I can’t last 15 minutes in a car, and they live days away.

I am just in too much pain, and now friendless.  I ruined a most beautiful friendship.  I, a tortured, twisted, constantly shifting puzzle of pain and tension and misery.  I was too much for them, which I did tell them was likely, from the start.

I simply have no idea how I will get through the days anymore.  I would wait for the next chance to speak to them, to banter through messages.  It got me through a year.  Then, this last year was much harder.  I don’t have much left.

If I owned a gun, I would have blown the back of my head out tonight, the moment the friendship ended.  I would have left my wife better off without an unstable needy useless lump of flesh costing money.  

My daughter, she will be hurt by my suicide.  She is doomed to suffer similarly, though I pray differently enough to have a better life than I have had.  I will try to keep going for her, but we seldom speak, and she does know the differences between our cases, and that I am miserable.  I will show her I will endure all I can until I cannot.

I am very close to being done.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I am sorry I was not able to express what I figured out.  I really do understand the paradigm of gravity’s effect on the body, muscle memory, and the subjective nature of perception.  I understand why “life is suffering.”

The best advice you will ever get is to work your core.  There is so much more you can do, but for most, that alone will improve many health issues.

Waves … it is all about waves … and the path or a wave is a helix.

Goodbye