I Want To Die

 I am so miserable. Every day is so fucking long and pain ridden, and I am relentlessly lonely. My body barely functions and my mind is going. I am “kept” downstairs, my wife and daughter living upstairs, which is very painful for me to climb. I am pathetic.  Neither wants to spend any time with me.

I want to kill myself so badly, but oh, … maybe my daughter will want to watch something on tv with me in the next few days (which never fucking happens) … or I can hold on for the next Warrior game, that could be good … or the Niners in the Super Bowl … of course, I have no friends to watch with, no one to enjoy anything with, no one to even spend any time with.

Tonight would be so good for it. There is a big storm coming in. I could abuse what pain meds I have remaining and go out in our hot tub and slit my wrists, maybe blast When The Levee Breaks in some earbuds with a storm raging around me, feel something as I fade.  Maybe I could time In My Time Of Dying and go out to that.  Yeah, I think I’d rather go out to Zeppelin than any of the crap I composed.

Lord knows I experience no love or friendship or anything worth living for. Seriously, why should I endure so much agony when there is nothing but disappointment and loneliness and mind numbing pain left for me.

Why can I not give up?!?! I hate this existence so fucking much. It will not improve, not one bit. I know this. I am fucked. Best case scenario is that I am miserable as all hell for 6 months, maybe make it into next winter in even more pain than I am crippled by now. i wish I could be brave enough to do it. I am tired of crying every time I think on it. I never had a chance to really live.  This life have been such bullshit.

Please let me be brave enough to do this.

The Final Phase?

 I think I am dying.

More specifically, entering the last phase of the life cycle.  I don’t know how long this will last, but everything requires more than I am capable.

I have not left the house yet this year, I think.  Walking has become near impossible.  I don’t think I can even get on my bike.

My memory is failing in all new ways, more like my brain is cognitively impaired.

At a minimum, I am very sick.  I am overheated after 3 minutes in 99 degree spa water when I usually do PT for over an hour in it, closer to 2 hours.

I have zero interest in going to the hospital.  The effort required just to get there is more suffering than I am willing to experience.

Still have thoughts and hypothesis, but can rarely hold them, let alone write them.

The level of fatigue is such that I cannot even regret my life or situation much before forgetting why I am crying, lol.  I hypothesize that is how we end up “accepting” death.  We’d be panicked but we’re just too damn tired to complain.

I made it through the winter.  It is starting to warm up.  I don’t think I will get to enjoy it, unable to function.

A sad story, me.

Screaming in to the Void

I am broken, mentally and physically. I am so angry. I never had a chance. I want to be done. I want to live, not just exist in this miserable reality I keep enduring. i wish I could have known. It is such torture, in pain and isolation, 16-19 hours a day in bed, maybe 4-5 or those sleeping.

First, I couldn’t work. Then, I couldn’t travel. Then, I could not even think well enough to interact on mic. Then, I could barely walk. Throughout, I have tried to keep hope. I’ve tried to help others with what little knowledge I can express. But I am so broken now, so crippled, no one can stand spending time with me.

I am the character from The Beach, slowly dying, miserable and screaming in agony, and everyone else cannot live while I remain struggling, not wanting to die, but unable to live. I will never be comfortable again. I will never feel accepted or safe. This life has been such a cruel experience.

I am taunted by the possibility of moments of friendship that will never come to pass, moments that would make this painful existence seem worthwhile, at least in the moment. I dream and hope for a miracle and all I get is pain. I can’t handle these sleepless nights anymore. I need summer to get here. I need some physical warmth. I have had so little emotional warmth. I am too broken for others to engage with.

Oh, F*** Me

There is a personal nemesis that has, again, fucked with me and sent what little living I have left into ruin.

It can be argued that he is just a clueless narcissist and I was very unlucky, his relationship with my only remaining friends resulting in frustrations for me that I did not react to well.

Yet, one unknown for certain event strikes out, when I was suffering extremely on a birthday, an extreme pain event, and reached out to the only active friend I had remaining on Band, hoping he was not too busy to respond, as he was playing Xbox in a party with that asshole.  He started responding, and shortly thereafter I suddenly lost my permission to post in our Band chat, and that asshole was the Band administrator.  I panicked, and my world got even worse.

I devolved very badly since then, and that day was a turning point to when I became suicidal.

Two days ago, I was having another extreme pain event.  Fumbling at my iPad, I reached my friend’s page on my Xbox app, and realized I could ask him to party with me and use the iPad mic and speakers instead of being on a headset through the Xbox (a physical impossibility at the time, stuck laying in bed, the iPad propped on me chest).  He answered, and for a few minutes, pain started to subside, or I was being distracted from it.

Then, THAT asshole, who I have blocked on Xbox, joined the chat party because he saw one existed with his friend in it.  This same asshole that has fucked with me time and again.  Now, to him, my name was blocked, he assumed my friend was playing with my friend’s wife (someone asshole adores), and he joined the non-private party (my mistake, not using it often at all) of an anonymous user to try to spend time with her.

It triggered the fuck out of me.

I did not react well.  My relationship with my remaining friend was occasionally rocky, as it’s hard to be friends with an insane, lonely, isolated, person in chronic pain.  One aspect has been my complaints about said asshole, and how asshole gets the benefit of the doubt (I was even asked to forget previous wrongs and give him the benefit of the doubt before that Band incident) and I do not.  Admittedly, my reactions to things can be unreasonable, though, like here, understandable, I believe.

I am once again friendless, this time, caused by my reaction to that asshole, once again fucking with me during an extreme pain event.  He was excused by my friend because of his innocent mistake (though previously, he had been told to always ask before joining even a non-private party!).  I understand him being excused, as in not being punished or my friend being mad at him for it, but the cost to me was so much.

How am I so unlucky?  Why do I have to suffer so much?  My friend, our messages sent during the days, is practically the only living I did anymore.  Everything else is suffering, my rehab attempts, loneliness, and isolation.  All I can do now is feel pain and wait for death.

Another Sleepless Night

[song I wrote some 35 years ago.  Wish I’d have died back then]

Spend my whole driving

A race that’s never won

Life is just to long

To not have any fun

Another sleepless night

I wander through a valley

I search a mountain top

Meandering through this world

The loneliness won’t stop

Another sleepless night

Debating over byways

Which road there is to take

In this race without and end line

It’s my will that’s doomed to break

Another sleepless night

Start the Countdown

 It is time to shit or get off the pot.

Adjustments and agony are at an all time high.

I am once again friendless.  Nothing to help get me through the days.  There is only pain.

Now, begin the countdown.  Let insanity reign!

I shall evolve.  I shall unfold my love and become human, become able to rest, to experience life instead of suffer this sensory overload of pain and discomfort.

I have a snorkel.

I will adjust in ways I could not before, no longer able to raise my head from the water to breathe.

It will work.  Or I will die.  I will push until I can push no more.  

I may go crazy.  I may drown.  I may drown laughing.

They say it is a horrifically painful way to die.  They don’t know pain.

This will be the story of me, the occasional genius, the seer of visions, the insanity and loneliness of chronic pain, the hope for relief.

It is time to get reckless.  I have no more will to live.  Only a change for the better can save me now.

Place your bets.  Smart money is on a painful death crying out in rage at those that left me alone in agony, likely underwater.

I wish she would not have been mean to me.  I am too weak now, too old.  They tried to help, but the frustrations of experiencing ME led to treating me like the lesser human I am, disregarding my pain, dismissive of my special needs, lost compassion regarding my pain and discomfort.

Did they believe?  Never.

I would have given them everything.  They would not listen.  I helped them to their greatest joy and they would not trust me afterwards!  The hubris!  They could not trust or have faith in a broken human.  I see paths of how they will fail without me.  I tried to show them the path.  Her choice.

He was the most honorable man and friend I would ever know.  I miss him already.

How with this strange trip turn out?  Will I evolve?  Will I drown and finally know peace?  Will the story ever be known?  What will William think of his mother, the narcissist.

My mother was a narcissist.  My life has been a horror, a tragedy.

I shall know peace and release.  

A Truth

 There is a limit to happiness.

“I couldn’t be happier.”  You have said it, perhaps, and were correct at the time.

There is no limit to pain.

Tempt this reality by saying, “It can’t get any worse.”  I dare you.  See what happens.

I am a cripple with special needs, on the spectrum, and live in chronic pain, ever changing by the nightmare of hypermobility…

     and they, the best friends I had ever known, unable to endure me any longer, became mean.

I hope for death, but I am not that lucky.

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.  :’)