Tag Archives: lupus sucks

Just got off the plane…

I’m here. They’ve been waiting for me, holding up a sign with my name on it. I have officially arrived in my dark place; looks like nothing has changed, it’s just as I left it. A place so dark that I can’t see through my veil of tears. Nothing and no one is welcome here. I do not wish to talk to anyone on the phone or in person to tell them how I feel, because quite frankly, I may tell them to fuck off! So, the only way that they will get any insight into my dark place is to read this post.

Happiness being relative, I can honestly say that I am unhappy. I don’t give a fuck if anyone thinks that I have it better than some people. Who are they to say that? From the outside looking in, they may assume that I have it better than most and they would be way off base.

No material possession can make me feel better right now. No one person can make me feel better right now. I am responsible for my happiness. Of course I cannot control someone else’s actions but I can control my reaction and I haven’t been doing a great job of that lately. It would appear that I am a glutton for punishment, I assure you I am not. My lack of focus and apparent misery prompted the following question, “Is there someone else?”, to which I replied, “Yes… Me. I am the other person”. To be clear, I am in my own way and that’s what’s so fucking sick about the whole thing. In my heart I know what I need to do in order to make myself happy, which in turn will make everyone else happy, yet I can’t.

There’s this fear that has me paralyzed. The fear of failure. I know that if I don’t move, I will die; perhaps not literally, but my very soul will cease to exist and I will merely inhabit a physical form. Actually, if I continue to have these overwhelming feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, I may kill my physical self; not at my own hand, mind you, but as a bi-product of depression and/or anxiety coupled with my Lupus, Sjogren’s, Raynaud’s and Rheumatoid Arthritis. Stress makes my illness(es) flare-up, so living stress-free is tantamount to my well-being. This very moment, my spirit is on life support and my stress level is off the charts. I almost wish it was over already.

Not to assign blame, but there are some members of my family that really fucked my head up! All those years of rejection added up to me creating this person who I thought my loved ones wanted me to be just to stay in their favor. My first few years on this earth were rife with instability, turmoil and rejection, I felt worthless; no child, especially under the age of 5, should be made to feel that way. Once I was in a more stable home environment, I was told over and over again that I was smart, pretty and funny, but the damage had already been done.

Everyone in my life may be having an easier time than me dealing with my illness or, it could be argued, a more difficult time. Their support or lack thereof, doesn’t diminish the fact that I am sick. The physical pain is secondary to the emotional pain and I don’t know how long I can live like this.

I made a vow to myself, sometime last year, to live authentically and I was making progress, truly. However, I may have fallen off track and reverted into this being that is foreign to me, all to appease the people that I love. I feel like I have to choose between their happiness and mine, which sucks.

ITCHING! Help!

Ooh, looky here… it’s past one o’clock in the morning and I’m still up! Not reading, or watching a movie or listening to music or anything pleasurable like that… no, I’m up itching! Ugh! I’m going to buy a scalpel and cut all the way down to the subcutaneous fat layer of skin or the subcutis for short, and then peel it all off! Sounds gross, eh? I don’t care, I can’t take this shit anymore! There has to be something that can be done about this incessant itching. Ya know, I don’t think my rheumatologist takes me very seriously when I say I want to cut my skin off. As awesome as he is, sometimes I think I’m invisible to him. When tiny cuts manifest themselves on my fingertips from seemingly nowhere, thanks to my Raynaud’s, he says “wear gloves”. Um, yeah, ok. That’s ok in the winter, to a certain extent, but in the spring, summer and fall seasons, it’s just not feasible. But I digress. Back to the itching and my invisibility, my doctor prescribed Loratadine which does absolutely nothing and I take so much Benadryl that sometimes I think my body has become immune to it. I guess I’ll just sit here and scratch myself raw. Ugh!