No so much excited, but…

Curious if I will continue to find ways/distractions to keep me here long enough to experience any type of what most might consider “the future.”

I sit here at 2am with 2 hours of sleep. Why only 2? Because the unrelenting pain in my dominant arm holds me half way off the edge of a constant anxiety attack. I don’t know if it’s been days or weeks since the pain reappeared after being under control for so long – but it arrived with Hell following behind.

I’ve sat here camped out on the couch for several minutes pondering what this post would entail. Everything troubling my mind? Would it read as though I was throwing an epic pity party for myself? Would it give the impression I was too negative and cynical? A pessimist to the core?

My best response to that – When darkness swallows you whole, it’s impossible to decipher the difference between pity and exhaustion. There is no reflection to analyze. No horizon to look for where the void ends and the light begins. You’re in your closet. Door is closed. No lights on. No illumination peeping from the other side of the door. Alone in a pitch black box.

I have exhausted my options to minimize the pain radiating through my elbow. All attempts have failed. Ice, immobilization, essential oils for pain relief, Emu oil, Ibuprofen, two independent forearm straps next to each other compressing my arm as tightly as I could get.

I returned to survival mode. A place I haven’t been in months, after living in it for almost half a century. Life was looking better… Till it wasn’t.

The relentless, crippling level of pain that radiates through my arm every waking moment has prevented me from focusing on anything except escape. So much so that I forgot to order my meds – most importantly being the ones that treat depression and ADHD. Naturally, both function independently and in concert to keep my mental health within acceptable boundaries.

According to multiple articles, the physical withdrawal from depression meds begins within a day or two. The psychological fun begins a few weeks later. So not only do I get the mind-fuck of debilitating pain, but juggling the withdrawal from a stimulant and SSRI at the same time… enhancement for the downward spiral.

Why did I not seek assistance from my s/o before this happened? Because it was too late once I discovered the problem. When I am this distracted, even the act of sending up a flair to a loved one never crosses my mind. No sense including a person who already lives on the verge of a mental health crisis that her s/o is about to become even more unhinged than usual. Having knowledge of a situation they can neither change nor control only generates more problems ahead of schedule.

By the time all the meds arrive, I will be wholly encompassed in withdrawal. I have no idea what to expect by then.

I used to chase happiness till I learned that happiness fades as well as makes the fall into sadness that much further. I then chose to accept peace and tranquility -the middle ground. No climbs to good times. No plunges into darkness.

For a brief period it worked. I focused on helping my s/o manage her anxiety and unhappiness with her life through being a better, more supportive partner -something I had failed to do during the first part of our relationship. I was learning to cook. I kept the house up routinely. The bills were paid on time. The seemingly endless list of projects we need to reduce was finally being addressed in an effective manner.

She was the breadwinner. I was the house manager. The hatred I felt about my job description was offset by the progress our relationship had made. I felt we were the best we’d been in years.

Then the pain returned… And everything went to shit. Almost none of the projects we have to work on have made progress. I’m unsure what bills I’ve paid. Dishes aren’t done. Cats are barely taken care of. Laundry piles up. I experience anger and hostility to the two cats I love dearly. I type ugly comments to social media posts that are pointless, thirst-traps, scams, etc… rather than just ignoring and hiding them from my feed. I stay away from the public because I can feel the venom coursing through my veins -waiting for someone to do or say something stupid in front of me. My tolerance for bullshit is currently nonexistent. People who have known me for years, wouldn’t recognize me once I was set off. The saying, “Not fragile like a glass -fragile like a bomb” is dead-on.

All I want to do is sit on the couch and play video games because holding a controller is about the only thing I can do that does not inflict additional pain in my arm. Turning door knobs, holding a carton of milk, unscrewing a lid off anything. tearing open a package of food/candy, lifting my laptop off the table, etc, etc… Basically anything beyond hanging off my shoulder multiplies the punishment. And I haven’t bothered to share what my right arm & shoulder are doing. Why bother.

Someone with a mind like mine often wonders if this quality of life is something I will be able to tolerate until my time naturally arrives. An ADHD mind is a different kind of complex machine to own and operate. The need for creativity never stops. The thirst for knowledge is never quenched. The hunger for inspiration never sated. The underlying fear-yet-acceptance of never being good enough looms over our head every waking moment.

To exist within a world of opportunities that I will never be able to experience is a special kind of hell in my mind. Before my wreck, I already had countless adventures I regretted not indulging due to life events, horrific timing, and terrible choices.

Now that I am staring down the field at what appears to be quickly approaching, I’m not sure where that will leave me.

For the first time in my life, I feel as though I have a couple people around me who genuinely not only care for me, but also look to me for help and support when they are struggling. They give me purpose -which is what my ID responds to the strongest.

If I depart this life hoping the next variation is better, I abandon and deeply hurt them. If I stay, I feel as though I will be relegated to this 200 pound mass of unpredictable uselessness forever.

Life truly is defined through suffering.

I wrote this at 2am and had no interest in editing/proofing it. My apologies if it’s random, doesn’t make sense, or difficult to follow. Sometimes you just have to send it and hope people get it.

*Edit. Ok, so I went back and changed things. I can never leave well enough alone.